Silver & Gold (Scomiche)

Stars

It was bright in the vast room. When he was small, before he'd accidentally stumbled through the veil, he'd spent hours here, climbing the pearlescent vines that were etched into the massive stone walls. He would perch on the ledges of the enormous open windows watching the pink and blue floating lights that were the sylphs and smiling at the dryads and the treemen watching over the forests as always. Now he spent his hours by the sea or in the trees, locked away in his room, anywhere that he could find solitude.

He regarded the two silver thrones, running his finger over the detailed metalwork on the place his mother used to sit. He used to giggle when she would tell him that one day they would commission a place for him, a throne worthy of her beautiful nightingale. He didn't feel very much like a nightingale anymore, he no longer had a reason to sing, his wings were broken.

His ears picked up on the nearly silent approach.

"You have always had quite the habit of disappearing, my princeling."

"It was never my intent to worry you, father." he turned and stepped from the dais.

"I understand." Sparkling silver eyes met a matching set. "I know the burden of the stone inside of your chest. I know."

Mitch's brows shot straight up at his father's words. Referencing a fae's loss, with the exception of conveying condolences, was considered the highest form of disrespect and astonishingly  churlish.

"You are my son." He took three steps across the white marbled floor towards him, features mirroring the despondency of his own. "The only pain more agonizing than losing my own heart is watching my son bear the weight of losing his. With every passing moment you drift further away, vitality fading. For all of my strength and valor, in this I am impotent, powerless.  I know it is not my place to ask, but I am all the same. Will you tell me who it is that has stolen your heart?"

Mitch looked away, for just one moment wishing for the freedom to forget his standing, to lay etiquette and duty aside and tell his father everything as he had when he was but a child.  But no. Spilled moments of candor would cause an endless amount of unrest. The veil would surely be closed. His frail connection to the man he loved would be lost forever. He needed it to remain open, he needed to feel like he was still out there, close, safe, loved. If the veil was closed he would fall into darkness, separated so finitely ... the tiny threads that held him together would snap and he would be lost.

"It was not stolen, it was given freely, gladly."

He turned away, moving towards the towering opening in the wall, drawn, as always, to the light from the many stars. He closed his eyes, a recalled memory nearly sending him to his knees.

"I love the stars."

"Our stars are different, and yet the same. Our constellations are different. Maybe our worlds exist in the same space, but different locations."

It was quiet for a few breaths, and Mitch wondered if he'd said something wrong.

"I hate it when you leave me, when you go back... to your world." Scott frowned, pulling him closer against him on the large blanket as if he was afraid he would disappear back into the veil at any moment.  "I wish you could stay. I feel like I'm always holding my breath, waiting for the next time I can see you again and just hoping you'll come back to me."

He turned those golden eyes up to him, flecks of pink and white swirling there for a few moments. He lifted, propping up on one hand while he ran the fingers of his other over his cheek.  "I'll always come back to you."