#[ tetia // head in the clouds ; heart in the sky ]

[witchembrace-a]

part four .................. 4/???

[chainsawcorazon]

How about (Munna Bhai) for pre-massacred Licht with young Patri, Sephirah's Apostles and the Elf Tribe in general?

Hello Anon, thank you for requesting! I’m a sucker for romance, so this fic also includes some romance, namely Patolli/William and Licht/Tetia. Thank you for requesting, and enjoy!

Additionally, to all readers, Bollywood Prompts are now closed! Thanks to everyone who requested a fic! I have nine more to get through, and hope to finish them all by the end of the year. Happy reading, everyone!

~~

Ronne made a silent note of it, of course. The human royal had only begun to visit regularly some weeks prior, so maybe, just maybe Ronne was making bold assumptions based on too few facts. Maybe there wasn't any correlation between the stolen gazes and Licht's sweaty palms. Maybe they were mere coincidences, and Ronne could accept that.

Except Ronne was never wrong.

Rhya figured it out not too long after, and once Rhya caught on, it was only a matter of time until everyone else did. One by one, Licht's inner circle came to know, and little by little, Licht stopped hiding it.

They announced their pregnancy just months later.

*

“You can't keep avoiding her forever you know,” Ronne remarked one late afternoon. He was husking corn for the evening, and Patolli was supposed to be helping him, but the boy had sat by the river brooding instead of helping Ronne shuck and clean the vegetables.

“I'm not avoiding her,” the boy retorted, biting the inside of his cheek. He was fuming, which disappointed Ronne more than anything.

“You are, and it's hurting Licht's feelings,” Ronne lied smoothly, because Rhya was only half as good as him when it came to the deception game, and because everyone but Patolli knew that Licht was too enamored, too busy with his beautiful lover and their future child to focus on the grievances of one lone teen.

“He's going to marry her, you know,” Ronne added some minutes later. “If you want to be Licht's bodyguard when you get your grimoire, then you have to guard her as well – and all of their children.”

“Why?” He snapped back, his eyes burning with hatred and just a twinge of pain.

Ronne sighed deeply before speaking again. “Because he loves her.”

*

Rhya told Patolli the same, Reve made some vague remarks about the power of moving forward, and Fana just pulled him into the forest, sat him down on the ground, and told him every single detail of Licht and Tetia's impending marriage so that he could get it through his head that the time for dreaming was over.

Vetto understood, however.

“It happens in phases,” he told him one night while the little boy was out crying in the field, accompanied by Vetto's little squirrels. “You live, you love, you move on, and you love again. It's a cycle, Patolli. It doesn't end with one person.”

Snot covered Patolli's upper lip and his eyes ran wet with tears. When he tried to speak, all he managed were wheezes before the sobbing intensified. Vetto reached for a handful of wildflowers and plucked them from the ground. He carefully pulled off the dirt and roots, and handed the bunch to Patolli who sobbed as he cradled them in his arms.

“Look at those, and tell me if any one of them is the same as the other,” Vetto instructed him gently. It took several more minutes before Patolli's sobs petered out into hiccups and his eyes cleared enough to peer at the flowers in his hand.

Patolli was done before Vetto could finish counting the minute.

“No,” Patolli grumbled with a sniff.

Vetto could only smile. “And?”

“... They're pretty,” Patolli said awkwardly.

“And?”

“They're flowers!”

“Aaaand?” Vetto had to bite back the chortle.

“They're pretty flowers and they're all different!” Patolli screeched, the tears replaced with fury, his cheeks flushed with childish exasperation.

Vetto burst out laughing, unable to hold back the mirth bubbling in his throat. Patolli stared, gob-smacked, before grumbling underneath his breath. He chewed his cheek and stroked the flowers in his hands while Vetto tried to stifle the laughs.

“Good!” The older man finally wheezed, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “Good,” he repeated when he witnessed a forlorn look settle in Patolli's golden brown eyes. “Good,” he said for a third time. “Every flower in this field is beautiful, and every single one is different from the other. When we pick them for our friends and family, we never pick the same ones. We want to give our loved ones all the colors of the world, because we love them in every which way that we can. These flowers, Patolli, they're wild and they have no masters, and we too are slaves to their beauty and warmth, because we want to give their beauty and their warmth to the ones we love the most.”

“I'm not giving Ratri any flowers,” he retorted.

“But you give your mother flowers all the time,” Vetto teased. “It's because you love her, don't you? I know you love your brother as well, but Ratri doesn't much appreciate the subtleties of gifting, but your mother does. You give your mother flowers because you treasure her, and because she treasures you.”

“Hmph,” Patolli huffed, giving Vetto the side-eye.

“And you know that she treasures every flower you give her, no matter how different they are,” Vetto added gently.

“What's your point?” Patolli grumbled, shoulders defeated and fingers still entangled in flowers.

Vetto could see the tears begin to form in the boy's eyes again, and so he turned away and looked up at the moon. “Imagine the flowers in your hands are people,” he began softly, his squirrels nibbling away at the nuts they'd picked from Vetto's pockets. “Imagine that every time you loved someone new, you picked a flower from this field. Over the years, you accumulate hundreds of flowers, each different from the last, and as the years go by, some wither away, while others persist until they too fade away.”

A sob hitched in Patolli's throat, and the little boy began to cry again.

Vetto kept his eyes on the moon. “Imagine Licht was your first flower, Patolli. Imagine him as the most vibrant flower you've ever picked, and the one you cherish the most right now. Give it the respect it deserves, and accept that your heart has chosen what it's chosen.”

Patolli's sobs echoed through the field as the squirrels continued to nibble at their nuts, while Vetto stared longingly at the bright, full moon. “And when it perishes, bury it with honor. There's no shame in loving, little one, but letting go is a part of that process.”

“No!” Patolli snarled back, his sobs getting worse as the evening persisted and the squirrels nibbled away.

“And when you least expect it,” Vetto continued, gaze fixed on the beautiful moon up above, “another flower will come along, and it will be a flower you least expect to love, and yet you will. You will love so greatly that even the sun and moon won't be able to withstand your love. Trust this if nothing else, Patolli. You will love again.”

*

And he did. A thousand years later, at the gates of the Spade Kingdom, Vetto stood next to his kin in rippling white and black armor as Patolli broke down the gates with a single swipe of his sword. The demons came quickly and so they rode through the swarm with their weapons poised, Fana's great fire breathing Hell down upon anyone who stood in their way.

A thousand years after their deaths, a flower was born. It was a flower few would call pretty, and yet that flower kept Patolli safe in his chest until it was his time.

Vetto hid his smile as they charged through the corridors to where the victims lay chained, like heroes out of fairy tales long dead. They fought every step of the way until they broke down the doors to the roof, cut through the black magic that held down the sacrifices, and finally breathed a sigh of relief as they awoke from their days long sleep.

“William,” Patolli said softly, cradling his beloved in arms much like he cradled those wildflowers one thousand years ago.

“Patolli,” the human croaked in response, “is that you?”

“Yes, my love,” Patolli said hoarsely, voice breaking finally as he pulled the human against his chest and held him tight, kissed along his shoulders and neck before burying his face in his bloodied hair.

And Vetto watched as Patolli cried once more, but this time with relief – this time with love that could defeat even the fists of a thousand demons.

*

Yami Sukehiro snorted from his position on the floor. “We're gonna die if they don't stop making out.”

“I believe your human friends will be here with transport soon,” Vetto said plainly.

“Scarface hasn't brushed his teeth in like... how long have we been here?”

“Three days!” Fana piped up.

“In three days,” Yami continued. “Your buddy's making out with three days worth of bacteria.”

“He's done worse,” Rhya drawled.

“I'm so glad Pato found someone,” Fana sighed with relief. “Thought he would never get over that schoolboy crush!”

“Lady, you thinking stabbing our king and tryna resurrect your entire tribe was over a schoolboy crush?” Yami asked, deadly serious.

Fana waved her hand nonchalantly. “Oh, of course, Pato is just a little emotional, is all!”

“Never mind,” Yami grumbled, laying back down and staring at the sky. He thought he could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds. “Anybody gotta cigarette?”

Rhya lit a stick and handed it to the large man. They sat still, some smoking, some chatting idly, oddly content while the rest of the heroes gathered to take them all back to their respective homes.

And just a few feet away, Patolli kissed William tenderly underneath the beautiful night sky.

*