#hopefully i don’t spoil ths for anyone but also it’s really funny

[rezicoded]

[madefate-a]

( Henry ) 5 Times the Love

▉▊▋☣. ( love, love, love. accepting ! ) 

>> @heroismdreams • ♪♫

i. ( domestic life was never quite my style. )

This is something he did not know about emotions: even a single one can feel like a whole world. 

He’d always ( well, almost always ) assumed that a singular thing would always just be a singular thing. You’re happy, you’re sad, you’re angry. That’s why there are names for these kinds of things, y’know? It makes sense, right? It had been nice, once he realized that this was one of those point of no return deals and he couldn’t go back to not feeling, to know that he wasn’t starting from scratch. 

❛ Henry? ❜ 

Even though he can’t really feel it, that doesn’t stop him; Sumia’s hand has taken his and regardless of what anyone else might call it, this is his warmth. Theirs, hopefully, forever. His, Sumia’s, and – 

( and ! and ! and ! his mind hasn’t understood it yet but something else within him has. fireworks are exploding in his ribcage and they’re tearing him apart and isn’t that just beautiful, and, and ! ) 

❛ You’re crying. ❜ 

There is no such thing as one emotion. Her voice quivers with everything all at once and he can hear it – he knows the names: hesitation, worry, caution, pain, joy, hope – hope – 

I’m always happy, he’s said. He’s believed. But a pale facsimile of joy won’t convey just how – wondrous this thing living inside him is. So he takes what he has learned and tries to show it, letting his fingers close over hers and leaning in to cradle her face with his free hand. 

❛ I didn’t know I could. ❜ 

He whispers it against her lips, ecstasy bleeding from every word. It seems so foolish, to assume that happiness could only ever be one thing. She has just created a universe in this moment; all he can do is gaze at her in reverence and try to remember how to breathe. 

( and baby makes three. ) 

ii. ( you cried, and it broke my heart. ) 

❛ You do remember we have a crib, right? ❜ 

There’s laughter in Sumia’s voice, in her eyes, but there is also, always, that soft kindness – that goodness that even now Henry does not quite know what to do with. Just because he’s never been particularly vocal about what he now knows as his shortcomings doesn’t mean that he’s not aware of them; he knows that there’s a sort of inadequacy to bridge, that a learning-to-be-gentle smile of his own and brushing his elbow against her own isn’t enough. 

But it’ll have to do. 

❛ She doesn’t like it, ❜ he says matter of factly. 

❛ Is that right? ❜ 

❛ Absolutely. ❜ 

❛ Hm – don’t you have to use something, at least once, to make that decision? ❜  

His lips part as if to say something – questioning, curious, amused. After all, he knows teasing when he hears it, and his expression melts for a moment before it draws into something that is not a smile. 

❛ She did! Once. – She cried. So that means she didn’t like it. ❜ 

He meets Sumia’s gaze with his own open and honest, and he watches her search. For what he can’t say – what she finds, he doesn’t know. But after a few moments of silence she leans in and presses her lips against his jaw. 

❛ She’ll probably cry again, you know. ❜ 

❛ What ?! ❜  

When Sumia doesn’t startle at his distress ( distress – not so novel an emotion, now, but still, somehow, strange ) he knows instinctively now to calm the panic that flutters like some frantic, winged thing his chest. 

❛ I know. ❜ She lays one hand over his arm, her forefinger resting so, so, so achingly gently on Cynthia’s head. ❛ But that’s part of the process. She can’t talk yet, she’s just learning. And she does it by crying. ❜ 

❛ Ah – ❜ The words catch in his throat and Henry glances from her back down to the girl sleeping in his arms. Her face is so soft – there are no hard lines anywhere, nothing scarred, nothing broken. She is flush-pink with life, tiny, tiny little lips parted as her breath whistles in her mouth. Her fingers – impossibly small – are curled to her palms so fragile and diminutive that they can’t even grasp yet. 

Before he can decide to put her down – before he can understand what he’s thinking at all – Sumia captures his mouth in a chaste kiss and delicately, capably, transfers Cynthia into her own arms. He hadn’t noticed any strain in them until they’re free to fall to his sides and tremble, minutely. 

❛ Come on, ❜ she murmurs, beckoning him to follow. Which he’ll do anywhere, anytime, anyway. She leads him to the bed, sitting against the headboard and bidding him to join her. ❛ Lie down. ❜ 

He listens obediently, curling around her and placing his head on his shoulder, Cynthia in clear view. Beside him, he feels the vibration of a low, warm laugh. 

❛ She’s going to be the halidom’s most spoiled child, ❜ she informs in a good natured whisper. 

❛ She’s going to be its happiest, ❜ he replies, watching her until sleep claims him. 

iii. ( when you smile, you knock me out. i fall apart. ) 

❛ I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Florina this happy. ❜ 

Henry can hear Sumia’s voice and Cynthia’s responding giggle from where he’s seated – far enough to not intrude, close enough to see every detail, hear every word. The sun’s light is a physical thing today, pooling into honey golden reserves, glittering softly when it catches on whatever is there – a hairpin, a ring, a bracelet. 

By extension, Cynthia glitters just as much when she moves up to braid another fallen flower into Florina’s mane. And maybe Sumia is right; the pegasus doesn’t so much as twitch, her head hung low for Cynthia to reach, patient throughout the entirety of the process. 

❛ She wants to be beautiful, ❜ Cynthia says decisively, her voice like so much twinkling, spun glass – so full and vibrant, so like her mother’s. ( and thank goodness for that. ) 

❛ And now she is. ❜ 

Sumia looks just as surprised as Henry feels when Cynthia turns on her heel, places both her fists on her hips, and replies, ❛ She’s always beautiful. Now she’s just beautifuller ! ❜ 

A moment of silence passes – and then a grin breaks out across Sumia’s face like the sun burning through a cloud. She reaches out, unbridled, and takes both of Cynthia’s hands in her own before pulling her onto her lap and kissing the crown of her head. 

❛ Yes, she is. My apologies, Florina. ❜ 

( Florina doesn’t look particularly offended. ) 

❛ Rina forgives you ! ❜ Cynthia laughs, high and loud, and flings her arms around Sumia’s neck in a hug. ❛ Mama, do you want flower braids too? ❜ 

❛ I would love some. But. ❜ There’s the mischievous edge to her voice that is so rare and so treasured; when Sumia meets his gaze, Henry feels a little shock roll down his spine. ❛ Don’t you think your father needs some too? ❜ 

Cynthia gasps with the new information, grabbing onto the idea like it’s so novel and so wonderful, and Henry feels his throat clog when she turns to him and waves. 

❛ Yes! Of course! I’m coming, Papa! ❜ 

He can’t really answer her around the inexplicable tightness of his throat – but he’s also learning that he doesn’t really have to. 

iv. ( we’ll bleed and fight for you; we’ll make it right for you. ) 

There is almost something funny about the irony of it. In days past, he would certainly have found it absolutely delightful – would have given into the base desire of laughing himself silly with his dying breath, over the fact that it was his dying breath at all. Especially if he had been back then like he is now – with something to live for. 

How delicious that tragedy would have been, then; how much it strangles him, now. 

Without saying a word, without even knowing what he’s doing, Henry finds Sumia’s hand and slots his fingers through with hers. She reciprocates, and in his own way he feels that touch – one drop of water sending ripples down to the absolute depth of his soul. 

If he looks at her, he is lost. All he can do is hold on. 

( he won’t wish for a miracle – no, he’ll try not to. but it’s a futile effort. he has always known that Sumia can create universes, and it would take more than death itself to rend from him his faith in her. ) 

❛ Well, love, it looks like we’re going to have to make a choice. ❜ 

Sumia squeezes his hand. 

( he can still hear Ricken’s voice, trembling and young and grasping so hard at a hardness it did not possess – if I were cut down in battle tomorrow, would you shrug and carry on? 

he can also still hear his answer, skimming the surface, mindless and careless. but even if he remembers it all clear as day, he cannot, for what is left of the life of him, feel what he’d felt. what he didn’t feel. ) 

❛ Henry. ❜ 

Oh – oh no. No, no. He knows what’s coming. His heart jumps into his throat. He squeezes her hand. Sumia sighs. 

❛ Henry. Look at me. ❜ 

And he obeys without a moment’s hesitation. He looks at her. 

– He’s not lost. Oh, right. This is Sumia. He almost forgot that when there’s nothing left, his faith in her will remain. 

She doesn’t need to say a word to ask him her question. He doesn’t need a second to find the answer. He tugs her forward, bridging the distance halfway and settling his forehead from her own. From here, he can see every intricate detail of the tears that pool at her lower lashes and fall asymmetrically down her face. 

❛ We can’t let her live in a world like this. ❜ Her voice is rough, now, without the facade of strength. ( which is never a facade – no matter if she doubts as much, there is never any question that in all her power and softness and kindness and worry and love, there is no one stronger in the world. ) ❛ We have to try – she can’t – ❜ 

❛ I’m with you, ❜ he tells her. Nothing has ever been more true. When she falters he moves into the space she creates. He reaches his free hand up to cradle her face, letting the tears trap against his thumb. ❛ I am always with you. ❜ 

She closes her eyes. In that one, single second, he mourns with the force of someone irrevocably shattered. 

But there is no choice. For Cynthia, he will give himself always, every time, without question. 

❛ It’s been a while. ❜ He smiles, he laughs, he searches for the way his face was always etched into simple, amused joy. ❛ I hope I’m not too rusty. ❜ 

Sumia pulls back. They plunge into battle still holding hands. 

v. ( and you’ll blow us all away. ) 

❛ That’s right! That’s me, Cynthia! ❜ 

He’s still grinning, even though he can’t quite puzzle it out. Sumia told him as much, but she seems pretty keen on an enthusiastic introduction. A kid? His kid? Kinda weird, if you ask him – not that they’re not used that brand of weird by now. And he can’t not believe her; they’ve seen these kids dropping in from the future. 

It’s just – well, strange ! But that’s not a bad thing, not at all. Strange is a-okay in his book, for the most part. 

❛ Well it’s, uh, nice to meet you, Cynthia! ❜ 

She glows at that and – yeah, he doesn’t really get it. It is nice to meet her; she’s pretty hilarious, with her energy and her humor and that eagerness of hers. And she kicked some serious butt on the battlefield, so yeah! Definitely cool. But she seems to really take a shine to that, practically vibrating with the force of whatever the heck she’s feeling. 

❛ You too !! Oh it’s been so long – ah, I have so much to tell you! What are you doing right now, are you busy? ❜ 

He blinks for a moment, never losing his easy, well worn smile but still working to keep up with her pace. 

❛ Oh, well, not at the moment, no – ❜ 

❛ Great! I wanted to ask you about entrance flourishes! ❜ 

– What in the world? 

It doesn’t really seem like his thing. None of it does – and there’s always that little, whispering urge to break off prolonged contact and seek refuge for a while. Surely he should just… do what he wants. That seems to be allowed by everyone around him, and he uses those reactions to measure his own. 

– Ah, well. Maybe in a little while. She seems so… happy. He doesn’t get it but – 

– He kind of likes it. Seeing her happy.