#lots of hc and lots of liberties taken w the magic system n stuff

[captainkingsley]

Logan finds himself lying awake. It's not an uncommon occurrence for him — since his time in Aurora, he's lost more nights of sleep than he would like to recount. Most of the time, he finds ways to occupy himself: redividing his troops, thinking up new training regimens for them, checking in on the funds he'd gathered, waking his assistants and advisors in the night to talk things over with him. 

But some nights. 

Some nights he finds nothing that can soothe his mind. So he lies awake, staring up at the canopy of his bed while trying to trace where things had gone so wrong. 

Was it when he'd gone to Aurora in the first place? Perhaps the Darkness would have left his people alone if he'd never tried to help Kalin. Perhaps it was when he went through that godforsaken temple and his men had been picked off one by one, his force of elite guards reduced to one survivor. 

He shuts his eyes, covering his face with his arm. In his head, the voice of the Crawler whispers to him the things that he knows to be true: he's not strong enough, his people will never believe him, they must be forced into safety. 

Would it not be better for them to die in the comfort of their homeland than in the clutches of something so horrific as the Crawler, as the Darkness incarnate? 

"Why can't this be easy," he breathes, speaking to none but himself, "I am a failure of a king."

His mind trails to his father. 

He'd know how to handle this, Logan thinks, he'd know what to do. 

If only he could go back, back to before he'd led his men into danger. Before he'd allowed his mind to be sullied by the Darkness. 

Logan heaves a sigh and rolls onto his side. Eyes slipping shut, he lets himself drift into a light sleep that slowly deepens until his mind is free of the Crawler's voice scratching at his thoughts. 

--

He wakes to the rocking of the sea, and for a moment Logan believes himself to be dreaming. But then the sharp tang of seawater hits his senses, the smell filling his nose and bringing him into reality. He touches the sheets, feeling rough linen under his fingertips. 

Sitting up, the rocking of the boat assures him that he is not, in fact, dreaming. 

Were the last few years a dream? 

He stands.  

Logan waits a beat, and then another, feeling his heart skip as he realises that the whisper of the Darkness has gone from his mind and for the first time in ages he's no longer plagued by doubt and fear. Something of a laugh crawls up his throat and before he can stop himself he's laughing for the first time in years, laughing until his eyes water and he's doubled over, holding his abdomen. 

His breath catches. Logan heaves a gulp of air down, his throat still throbbing with the effort of laughter. 

What is wrong with me, he thinks, and his mind provides him with the fact that he's been unable to feel anything but fear, and emotions are new and raw all over again. Standing straight once again, Logan wipes at his face, ridding himself of the tears that had rolled down his cheeks during his fit of laughter. He clears his throat, squares his shoulders, and prepares to leave the cabin just as a knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” he says without thinking, as though he’s already been through these steps before. 

The door swings open and he’s greeted with the face of the captain of the ship, a tall, tanned man with long brown hair. 

“We’re almost near the land,” the man says, “But we’re hitting some rough water. Should we give the trip another few days and go ‘round?” 

Logan opens his mouth to speak, almost ready to tell the man to ignore the storm and go straight ahead, but pauses.

That’s how they wound up at the temple.

He feels his heart in his throat as he tells the captain to take the longer way, and heads up with him to look over the map. 

They avoid the temple this time. The long way around proves to be more difficult to navigate, but Logan counts it as a blessing as they avoid the place so many of his men had died the first time. A second chance, he realises, to get things right. To avoid the way he’d messed up before.

“Sir,” the captain says as they’re pulling into the docks to the city of Aurora — the real city, not the edges or the outskirts. A few Aurorans have gathered to see the commotion, but in the distance, the captain points out a cloud.

Slowly crawling its way over the city from where the temple lies, deep in the desert, the cloud grows as the sun sets.

Logan swears under his breath, grabbing his sword and urging his men to form up. The Aurorans are shouting warnings at them. Logan assures them he knows what he’s doing as he steps off the ship, but each person looks more worried than the last. Most are fleeing back into the safety of their homes. A few stand outside, watching the sky, knowing what’s to come.

Darkness crawls over the city. Logan draws his sword, ready to act.

But it happens much the same as the last time.

His men fall.

Logan watches as they beg the Darkness to get out of their heads until they stop speaking altogether.

Cornered once again by the Crawler itself, Logan feels fear crawl up his spine as it studies him. It knows — knows that he’s done this once before. It laughs at him, grabbing his chin with its sickeningly long claws. Its thumb draws a deep gash down his mouth, just as before, making him taste his own blood as he swims in his own fear.

--

Logan finds himself lying awake.

He tastes blood in the back of his mouth.

Had it been real? 

He shivers and pulls his blankets over himself, huddling into himself. It felt real. It had taken days to get to Aurora, days on that ship, there was no way it was all a dream if it felt so intensely real that he could remember the feeling of the saltwater on his face and the cries of his men.

Logan puts his hand over his mouth, feeling nauseated. 

Go back.

The phrase hits him in the stomach.

Go back.

Go back.

He feels his eyes slip closed once again.

Back.

Just how far back, he wonders.

He wakes with a start in his bed in Albion. Logan looks down and pats his chest, then the bedsheets, and then he stands. A strange dream, he tells himself, a strange dream that has simply left him doubting and anxious. The clock on the wall tick, tick, ticks, over and over. 

He dresses. Nobody comes to disturb him as he prepares for his day. 

Just as he’d told them early on in his reign, and just as it has been for some time.

Logan goes to the mirror in the adjoining room, pulling a shirt on, buttoning it slowly from the bottom, his hands still shaking. Fumbling, he misses the buttonhole three times before grumbling, breathing one deep, heavy breath, and finally the button cooperates. 

He leans in to adjust his hair.

And then he notices that he’s missing something.

His fingers hesitantly touch his face.

His scar.

Logan pales, rubbing at his face, his skin turning red with the force of the friction. It leaves his skin tingling similar to when a hand or limb falls asleep. 

Turning on his heel, Logan goes to where he keeps his itinerary, his log of events, and realises—

He’s supposed to leave for Aurora in a week.

He curses, wringing his hands. Still half-dressed, Logan goes to the door and waves to a maid, who he tells to fetch Walter, please, right now, thank you.

Finishing dressing, Logan adjusts himself until he’s mostly presentable — save the exhausted look on his face and his obviously-shaken demeanor — and Walter steps into the room.

“You needed me?” He says, curious. Logan can tell he’s on edge.

“Cancel the voyage to Aurora.” Logan says. Walter’s mouth stays shut for a long moment, his mustache twitching.

“We’ve spent ages making sure our supplies are ready, our men are trained and ready, and you—” Walter starts, and Logan fixes him with a stare that can only be described as distraught. Walter pauses, his voice lowering. “Has something happened?”

Logan hesitates. He clenches his jaw. 

He could tell Walter.

He’s supposed to be able to trust Walter.

But he'd betrayed Walter before. 

It doesn't feel right to try to be honest now.

“It’s—” He starts. Logan feels something like dread in his stomach. “Complicated.”

“Can’t be too complicated to explain to me.” Walter says, urging him on. 

“A gut feeling.” Logan says. “Aurora isn’t safe.”

“A gut feeling.” Walter repeats. Logan nods.

Walter doesn’t argue with him. Logan watches as he leaves, saying something about how he’ll inform the men and cancel the trip.

Logan breathes a sigh of relief and falls against the wall, sliding down it until he’s sitting upon the floor and cradling his head in his hands. 

-

The next few years pass slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Logan has a pinch of fear in the back of his mind as he watches Albion grow, watches the people learn to function with the slowly furthering technology of industry. Slower than before, than when he’d handed control over to Reaver, but better. The people are happier.

Maybe this is what was meant to happen, he thinks, looking out at the sea from the castle’s highest tower. Maybe he was meant to ignore Aurora’s problems so the Darkness would never sense their presence.

-

Oh, how wrong he was.

-

He wakes again, the taste of blood in his mouth from where he’d been slashed across his lips. Logan feels his face and finds no scarring and sighs, knowing he’s back once again to just before the trip to Aurora. 

With a frustrated huff, he rolls over and goes back to sleep.

Walter pounds on his door later in the morning. Logan tells him to go away.

-

Back.

Further back, he reasons.

Another attempt. 

And then another.

He loses track of how many years pass in his attempts — they blur together as he fails over and over. Some attempts get him barely past leaving for Aurora. Others, he sees his younger brother overthrow him. 

Cedric is always a kind ruler, but he tries to make everyone happy. Can't he see that he can't uphold all of his promises? To make one group happy, he must disappoint someone else. Logan tells him as such the first few times. 

In one, he appoints Logan as an advisor. The people turn on him, throwing his slow-earned trust out the window. 

In another, his brother has him executed. It's very unlike him, Logan finds himself thinking as he's led onto the platform.

-

He wakes up. 

He always wakes up with blood in his mouth.

Sometimes he simply gives up and tries the most outlandish things: at one point he hands control of Albion over to Reaver. Why he thought that would make any sort of difference, he'll never understand. 

He winds up getting his scar from one of Reaver's machines, that time around. He also meets his end on the same machine, a year later, saving a child far too young to be near such things. 

It’s amazing how much compassion one gets after seeing so many disasters.

He wakes up.

-

This time he’s in a different room in another wing of the castle. Logan stares up at the ceiling, noting the pattern of the delicate carvings of lion’s heads and cherubs, and realises just how far back he’s been thrown.

He stands, heads for his wardrobe, and dresses.

With energy he hasn’t had in years, Logan bolts from his bedroom.

If he’s gone this far back, he realises, then that means —

He turns the corner and sees his father, Sparrow, his long hair braided down the back of his neck. Sparrow has to stop before Logan runs headfirst into him, turning in a dramatic sweep to avoid his son.

“Dad!” Logan shouts, and he ignores the shock on Sparrow’s face as he throws himself at him. Clinging to Sparrow, he tucks his face against his father’s shoulder. He has him back, if only for this chance, and he’s not going to waste a second of it.

“Logan,” Sparrow says as his son lets go, “Are you alright?”

It goes without saying that Logan hasn’t shown such enthusiasm toward hugging his parents — either of them — since he was a young child. To Sparrow, it’s a strange and out of character occurrence for Logan to show such affection. 

To Logan, however, it’s seeing his father for the first time in so, so many years.

He almost blurts out that he missed him, but catches himself.

“I’m fine,” Logan says, wiping his face with a sleeve. Damn it, he thinks, he can’t cry in front of his father. Not now.

“You don’t look fine.” Sparrow says, and ushers Logan to follow him. 

The tension in the air would have been overwhelming if not for Logan’s entire focus being on the fact that his father is alive and walking with him through the castle. His hair is almost entirely grey, the crown sits on his head as nobly as Logan remembers it, and he walks with power that Logan remembers imitating when he was first coronated. 

Strange that he has these memories, he thinks. He’s barely eighteen but with the experience of an entire history’s worth of failed kingship behind him. 

Sparrow waits until they’re in a quieter place to encourage Logan to speak. 

And suddenly — unlike with Walter — Logan finds himself explaining the entire situation.

He expects his father to be confused, or brush away his experiences.

But he doesn’t.

Sparrow sits and listens, taking in every word. He’s patient and seems to believe everything from the start. Likely he’s heard other strange stories, Logan thinks, knowing that his situation is no stranger than some of the other things Sparrow has been through.

Logan finishes his story with minimal distress, though not for a lack of emotion on his part. He’d had to stop a few times to pause and collect himself — mostly after the times witnessing his own death. Silence falls over the two of them as Sparrow processes what he’s explained, and then he rubs his beard and frowns.

“When did you say this darkness first attacked Aurora?” Sparrow asks. Logan swallows harshly.

“I —  I’m not sure. It’s always already been present… I think I heard whispers of the Spire, and I know you had your time there, but I can't be sure—” He says, and Sparrow nods along. He goes quiet for a few long moments, his brows furrowing as he thinks things through. Logan notes the way his face is set with deep lines.

Had his father always looked so old?

“I think I may have to plan a trip to Aurora.” Sparrow says.

Logan feels his heart drop.

“No, no, what if—” he starts, but Sparrow cuts him off with a raised hand.

“Then you’ll do it again. I know you’re capable, Logan. If what you’ve told me is true, and I believe it to be, then I know you’ll find a way to get this right.” 

-

The first attempt with his father doesn’t go as planned. 

Logan doesn’t tell him about that the next time he wakes up in the castle.

This time before they leave, he’s sure to see his younger brother, Cedric, stooping down to his level to assure him that he’ll be back. Cedric grabs his hand and nods, staring at him with dark, intense eyes that make Logan think that maybe he knows.

He keeps that look in his mind as he and Sparrow set sail for Aurora. 

His little brother deserves better than all of the failed experiences Logan has had to deal with. 

-

The second time, they avoid the temple and head straight for the capitol. There, the land is only partially ravaged by the Darkness — only a few cities in the distant desert have fallen, and the city of Aurora is thriving. It’s fascinating to Logan to see the city cast in bright sunshine and with all varieties of people and things he’s never seen in full. They meet Kalin’s father, a tall, withered man with a thin body and dark hair. Logan stares at Kalin, and Kalin stares at him with something in her eyes — something that makes him think that she knows.

He gets the feeling that Cedric knows more than an eight year old should due to his Heroic blood, but Kalin, he wonders. What does she know?

Sparrow makes plans with Kalin’s father. 

They stay in Aurora for some time, bringing Albion’s troops over in small groups, stationing them around the cities of Aurora in preparation.

When the Darkness crawls over Aurora, they’re ready.

-

He watches as his father brings down a too-large hammer onto a shadow, dispelling it with a surprising crunch. He'd fought them before, yes, but Logan always forgets how solid they are before they crumble into nothingness. His father swings again and again, but as Logan watches, more swarm him. Humanoid figures are joined by larger monsters, snarling as they attempt to wrestle the hammer from Sparrow. 

Logan moves without thinking. 

Unlike the last time, he wants to make a difference. He wants to ensure that his father is safe.

He hears his father yell to him, telling him to stay back, but before he can even register his own body moving, Logan throws himself into the midst of the fight, stabbing his sword through a humanoid made of darkness. 

The next thing that happens leaves Logan and Sparrow both stunned for several moments.

Logan throws his free hand out as though to reach for his father, and his hand sparks.

A shadow screeches as it’s impaled by a silvery light, and Logan feels a rush of something through his arm.

Sparrow’s eyes go wide, and before Logan can vocalize his confusion, he’s back to swinging his hammer, this time with renewed vigor. 

“What just—” Logan shouts over the slamming, the sound of gunshots around them. Sparrow finds his way closer, standing by Logan’s side as he readies a spell to defend Logan and himself.

“Will,” Sparrow says, “And a good spell, at that!”

“But I don’t know how to use—” he starts, and he hears Sparrow laugh.

“You’re my son!” Sparrow shouts, and Logan feels his hand pat his shoulder. “You’ve got Heroic blood, Logan, you don’t need to learn to use it, you need to learn to control it!”

It’s a rush, using Will, Logan realises. He watches as Sparrow uses his own, watches the way he moves his hands and arms to direct the flow. Logan copies him, looking all the more like a mimicry of his father as they work beside each other. Will is easier than the sword, Logan finds, and as he flings another spectral blade he realises enjoys it.

He hits a Shadow directly between where its eyes should be. He shouts, delighted, and his father spares him a proud grin.

Perhaps he enjoys it a bit too much.

-

"I know what you're doing," is the chilling phrase that hits Logan's mind. Backing up, he moves until his back is against a wall, giving him cover on one side. Eyes frantic, he looks around through the haze of nighttime, searching for the source.

And then it hits him. 

Quite literally. A clawed hand pins his shoulder to the wall and causes him to shout in pain, the impact sure to bruise.

"I know you're trying to use your Will to change the world into your ideal one."

He’s cornered by the Crawler again. Its claw drags down his face, scratching open his lip, and Logan is overwhelmed to a point where even his newfound magic is out of reach. Breathing heavy, nearly hyperventilating, Logan panics, thinking again that he’ll be thrown back, thrown back, back to the beginning where he’ll have to start all over once more — 

"You're weak, little king, having to call on your parents to fight your monsters for you."

— But then a bolt of ice slams into the Crawler’s eye, forcing it back. Logan looks up to see Sparrow drawing his hammer from its place on his back, his teeth bared in a snarl unlike anything Logan has ever seen from his father.

“Get the hell off of my son,” Sparrow says, swinging his hammer as the Crawler slides backward. Its many faces turn, not expecting the sheer determination radiating from Sparrow as he follows it. 

The whispers from the Darkness begin finding their way into Logan’s head. He slumps against the wall as he covers his ears, forcing himself to keep his eyes open as he watches his father drop his hammer in favor of using his hands to grab the Crawler’s limbs and tear.

Why his nickname is still Sparrow, Logan figures he will never know, as he looks more reminiscent of a bear or a lion in battle.

Despite covering his ears, the screeching coming from the Crawler as his father tears into it is like nothing he’s heard before. Logan feels tears welling up in his eyes as he tastes the blood dripping from his lips and he shuts his eyes as the din of battle overwhelms him.

Later, Sparrow lifts him from the ground and pulls him against his chest. Logan tries to ignore the ichor and the blood spattered against his armor.

“It might come back,” Sparrow says, “But not for a long time.”

Logan nods, leaning against his father.

“Something like that, it speaks of its children,” Sparrow continues, helping Logan out of the chaos and the mess that’s been strewn around them, “But it doesn’t realise just how far I’d go for my kids.”

Logan chooses to look away from the fact that his father’s hands are stained black and red. 

-

They return to Albion with hope. Hesitant hope, but hope nonetheless. The queen, Logan’s mother, sees his new scar and fusses over him, something she’d never had a chance to do in previous times. He should be upset about it, he thinks, being a young man with the world ahead of him, but he doesn’t push her away. He lets her prod at his scar, tutting at him that he should have cleaned it better, should have helped it heal so it wasn’t so deep. He shrugs the suggestion off, saying something about how he thinks it makes him look more daring.

“Daring?” His mother laughs, “What, are you trying to impress someone?”

Logan pushes his mother’s hand away, trying his best to hide the grin that’s slowly drawing across his lips. He can’t help it — he has his mother back, and she’s still the same as he remembers. 

“No, no,” he says, “Nobody in particular.”

“Not trying to find a wife, Logan?” 

“No!” is the immediate, stuttering reply. His mother eyes him.

“A husband?”

“Mother,” he says, his heart jumping to his throat. 

“So long as you’re happy,” she says, reaching to push his hair into place. 

It hits him, then, that he had never told his mother the first time around. He's sure she knew — why wouldn't she? Cedric had him found out the first time around by the time he was thirteen, poking fun at how he hoped Logan found a good husband before he became king. 

He never did. Of course not. He didn't have the time for that.

But now? 

Maybe. 

Maybe, if things continue on without the hiccup of starting over. 

-

He hopes this time he’s doing things right. 

It feels like he is: the people are happy, Cedric is growing up and he's doing his best to be closer to him this time. Their parents take note, finding time to include both of them in lessons. However, the toll of fighting so hard at his older age is evident in Sparrow, who has to halt their Will lessons on more than one occasion to rest his body. 

There's an instance where Logan is learning how to direct an intended spell after it's flung where Sparrow has to stop and lean against the fence in the garden. When he takes Logan and Cedric inside once more, Logan props himself up against his father to keep him steady. 

The next day, Sparrow begins walking with a cane. 

Logan feels guilt well up inside his chest as he watches his father walk. 

He'd be healthier if Logan hadn't been so selfish, hadn't wished to reset his chances and have his father there to help him. 

But, he reasons, his father is a Hero in every sense of the word. He's stronger than he lets on. 

-

He gets another seven years with his father. It's the longest one of these younger starts has gone on. 

Logan hopes it's the final one. 

His mother takes over as queen for a little under a year, giving Logan time to talk to Cedric about his plan.

“I think you deserve the throne.” Logan says, and Cedric stops, halfway through putting his sword up from their sparring match. He’s still full of energy, his hair out of place. Cedric attempts to push his hair from his face as he comprehends what Logan has just said. 

“Excuse me?” Cedric says, his eyes wide, “Logan, you can’t be serious.”

Logan raises a brow.

“Is it that difficult to believe I’d just hand it over?” He says, and Cedric seems unable to form a proper response for a few moments, his throat tensing and untensing as he tries to find the words to use.

“Why?” Is all that he can manage.

“Because,” Logan says, stepping closer to his brother so they’re able to see eye-to-eye, “I know you. I know you’ll be a good king and that I am not cut out for it. You can be the king Albion needs.”

Cedric stares at him, dumbfounded. Logan continues, his voice soft.

“You have a good heart and you know the people well. You will do so much better than I could ever hope to.”

“This isn’t something I can simply accept, you know.” Cedric says, “We’d have to talk it over with Mother, and…”

Logan clicks his tongue.

“I’ve already brought it up to her. She wanted me to talk to you before she made any sort of decision for us.”

-

The year passes. Cedric eventually accepts, though not without hesitation. Their mother is laid to rest beside Sparrow, the crypt below the gardens once again opened and shut. Logan almost wishes to turn back time again, just to get some more time with her, but —

He doesn’t will it too strongly. She deserves the rest after all of this. 

Cedric is coronated, much to the surprise of the people, and Logan watches as the crown is placed on his head. Rumor spreads as to why Logan refused the throne — some say he’s not mature enough, others say that it’s because he can’t give an heir. He pays them no mind, knowing the truth: that he’s not meant for it. He’s never been good at being king, even before the Crawler first took his mind. Kind, yes, benevolent to the extent that Sparrow was, sure — but the planning, the money management, the constant socialization and ability to keep track of who’s doing what and where…

Cedric is better at those things. He’s able to juggle multiple conversations at once, he’s good with money, and he knows when to put his foot down to the demands of people like Reaver. 

He’s proud of his younger brother for being the king he can’t be.

The first year of Cedric’s rule is hectic, for sure, but he manages to befriend many of the same people Logan remembers from the previous times he’s seen his brother at work. Page winds up coming to the castle with a request for additional school funding, and Cedric befriends her faster than Logan can say her name. And then Benjamin Finn, plucky soldier that he is, shows up with a report from the Swift brigade and Logan sees the connection between Cedric and Ben before either of them have a realisation of their own.

He knows, of course, that long ago, in ages past that are no longer ‘real’, that Page and Ben and Walter were part of a resistance against himself. That he’d hurt each of them in turn, they’d lost their families, their trust — everything. They’d lost everything because of Logan.

But now?

Now he hears Page talk about her family with excitement as he walks the halls of the castle with her, he hears Ben tell stories about his family’s business and his brothers’ antics. 

He even gets a nudge from Ben about the fact that one of his older brothers is looking for a man. Logan shrugs it off, telling Ben as politely as possible that he’s not interested, sorry, but did you know Cedric is? 

“You’re about his age, aren’t you?” Logan says, and Benjamin sputters.

“He’s the king, and I’m just a soldier, and — you’re ridiculous.” 

Logan tries to hide his grin. 

And then, Logan meets Thomas.

At first, it’s a meeting in passing. Thomas, a bookkeeper hired by Cedric’s new team of advisors, works long days and far into the evening in the castle’s library. He’s not someone that Logan plans to meet with very often. His work is quiet, and he prefers the solitude of the library to meeting with people. Something that Logan understands and agrees with wholeheartedly — while he’s been taught from a young age how to interact with nobles and commoners alike, Logan prefers to have time to himself.

But … 

But, sometimes time alone is just as fine when that ‘alone’ is with one other person.

He wonders, as he sits in the library with the gentle glow of a lantern on the pages he’s scouring, where Thomas wound up in all the times he’d failed as king. Was he, perhaps, in the Brightwall academy? Or at home, stricken with some illness or injury from working long hours of physical labor that his delicate hands couldn’t handle? 

Was he alive at all when Logan had the throne?

Lost in his thoughts, eyes unfocused, he doesn’t notice Thomas sidling up to the table he’s sitting at until his hand taps the page of the book Logan as open in front of him. 

“You’ve been on that page for half an hour, now, my lord.” Thomas says, amusement in his voice that breaks Logan’s trance. “Do you need it read aloud to you, or are you simply tired?”

Logan blinks at him.

His ears feel warm.

“No, no, I…” Logan starts, clearing his throat. “I am… distracted, is all.”

“Perhaps you should get some rest and resume your…” Thomas glances at the book, a smile creeping across his lips, “Study on Auroran perfume industry tomorrow.”

That’s the book he pulled off the shelf?

Logan rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Thomas’s gaze as the man chuckles at him. 

-

He goes back to the library. Thomas apologizes for teasing him, but Logan shrugs it off, content to forgive and forget. An hour is spent, then, as Logan helps Thomas sort books and find duplicates, making a log of how many of what is currently in the castle. For the most part, it’s quiet save for when one of them makes a quip about a book they’ve got in their hands, or a note on just how many of one they have.

“Really, I don’t see why the castle has thirteen copies of What Your Choice of Dog Says About You,” Thomas says, “I know your father liked dogs, but really?”

“Funny thing is, his old mutt was a stray he found.” Logan says, “My father didn’t know Phoenix’s breed any better than he knew the difference between a daisy and an aster.”

“Really?” Thomas replies, his eyes wide. “The way people talk about that dog, I’d have thought he was bred by the gods themselves.”

“Might as well have been,” Logan laughs, “My father claims he saved his life multiple times.”

“Now that I will believe,” Thomas says, leaning against the bookshelf he and Logan are sorting through. “All the stories I’ve heard…”

Silence passes over them. Logan puts another book up, making sure its spine is lined up with the ones beside it. He presses a finger against the textured cover, the gold leafing on the lettering glittering in the dim light.

“Do you think,” Thomas says, tapping his chin, “That your father would like to have a book written about him? About his adventures?”

Logan turns to look at him. He studies the way Thomas is staring at him, like he’s hiding some eagerness behind his eyes.

“I think he’d like that.” Logan says, and Thomas beams.

-

Somewhere in-between his getting to know Thomas, Cedric winds up married. To Benjamin Finn, just as Logan expected. He tries to keep the wedding small, but word gets out through Bowerstone and the entire city is lit up in bright lights and dancing, and Logan finds his hands itching as he catches a glimpse of Thomas in the gardens.

-

He watches Thomas's face in the lantern light, his copper hair turned fiery red in the gentle glow. There's something he can't read behind his eyes, something sly and curious that is tempting Logan to ask him what he's thinking. But he doesn't want to be intrusive — he'll wait until Thomas is comfortable speaking, himself. Minutes pass in a strangely comfortable silence, Thomas's pen scratching across paper and Logan focusing on his breathing, conscious of how loud it is in comparison to the sound of writing. 

Finally, Thomas looks up again, a lock of his hair falling in front of his face. 

"Alright," he says, a gentle, almost melodic lilt to his voice, "I think my hand needs a rest. You've been quiet — is something on your mind?"

You, Logan almost blurts out, but holds himself fast.

"I'm simply curious about how your work is going," he says instead. 

Thomas smiles at him. Logan feels something in his chest go tight.

“Slow, but steady. I’ve been trying to revise some of the latest chapters, but … I think I need a rest, the words are starting to make less sense than your father’s choice of fashion in his younger years.”

Logan laughs, casting his eyes down to Thomas's hand. It's stained with ink from his pen where he's forgotten to lift his wrist enough, dragging his left hand through the ink. Smudges on the paper are small, the text still legible. "So you’re close to being done?"

"Oh, not quite." Thomas hums, his pen now left abandoned on the table. He runs his ink-stained hand over his hair, tucking it behind his ear. “Though Walter has been very kind to tell me of Sparrow’s adventures. And he pointed out where your father left all his journals in the library…”

Logan smiles. 

-

He kisses Thomas sometime later that week. It blurs together, really.

-

Cedric tells Logan that he and Benjamin have added another to their relationship. 

It’s not something that Logan ever saw coming, nor had it happened in any of the previous lives he’d lived. They introduce her to Logan and he decides that she’s good for them, excitable and confident in herself. 

-

He becomes an uncle.

Cedric’s kid is so much like him, energetic and bright. Logan decides that his priority is going to be to help her have the life she deserves. 

Thomas asks if he wants to have children. He shakes his head and assures him that having his brother’s family is more than enough — thankfully, Thomas seems to have the same opinion. He’s grateful that they can agree on the the important steps in their lives, and after some discussion and agreement on the venue, Thomas agrees to marry him.

With it being Logan’s turn, Cedric goes out of his way to make the party as bright and delightful as his own. It’s embarrassing, being the center of attention, but Logan winds up not minding it as he sees the way Thomas smiles at him, the way Cedric and his partners look so happy for the two of them.

-

“Hey, hey, slow down, you!” Logan shouts, watching as his niece runs down the hallway, her tiny feet taking her faster than he realised she was capable of. Thankfully, Walter is there to stop her from going too far too fast, lifting her off the ground in one sweep of his arms. Logan catches up to the two of them as Walter hefts Myra onto his side. She grabs at the collar of his overcoat, and Logan goes to voice his concern.

“It’s fine, Logan, she’s just happy to see me!” Walter says, “With a grip like that, I think she’ll wind up being a better fighter than you or her dad.”

Myra does, in fact, wind up being a good fighter. Her first lessons are given by Walter, but as he gets too old to fight — even fake fighting against pretend enemies — Logan takes over. And with it, he begins to instruct her on proper rifle usage and Will.

She struggles with the latter skill, but her brother, Alistair, grows up alongside her and winds up showing promise with Will. So Logan makes sure that he gets proper education on how the skills work, on how to control it despite the fact that sometimes Logan worries that he’s going to reset all that he’s come to have simply by thinking about it too hard.

But, then again, the powers are called Will, and Willing something into existence means wanting it.

The Crawler’s words drift into his mind, late one evening, as he’s contemplating usage of Will.

"I know you're trying to use your Will to change the world into your ideal one."

Is this his ideal world, he wonders, watching Myra and Alistair as Myra swings her sword down against Alistair’s, the sound of scraping metal filling the room. He thinks for a few long moments, thinks about Cedric and his spouses, about Page and her school, about Thomas and the way his hair is slowly beginning to show signs of greying, just as his own is.

Of course it is, he decides. Why would he ever want anything more than this?

-

He wakes up in the dead of night. Logan stares up at the canopy of his bed, his mind flickering from memory to memory as though reviewing a dream just before it's forgotten. 

Was it all a dream? 

The thought makes his throat go tight. His niece and nephew, his husband, Albion’s thriving population and culture, Aurora...

Maybe it was all a dream, maybe he's still trapped as king with the Darkness soon to encompass Albion —

He feels the bedsheets shift. Logan looks to his left and sees a mess of red hair peeking from the edge of the blanket. 

His lips turn upward into a smile. 

The memories fade — what was he just worried about? 

A bad dream, he supposes, and tucks himself against his husband. Thomas's arm tightens around his middle. 

Albion moves in the night, guardsmen make their rounds, and the stars shift overhead. 

Things are alright.