An End to Summer

He reached out to touch her arm. "I'm no teacher."

She smiled at his word. "You only need to offer support my beloved heart-son. I am so sorry I wasn't strong enough to help you more." The way she said it this time was fractured with sorrow.

"It's alright, momma-Amy. Do not burden yourself. Let me play this song for you and hopefully it will ease your mind."

He was never sure if it did.

They didn't have a chance to revisit their conversation. Amy passed away a few days later. Her words stuck with him though.

'If we don't adjust and grow, we will loose allies and those powerful talents will be lost forever.'

Allies.

As though they were going to war.

When he met Frankie Welton and knew for certain the battle was near.

She was a warrior for a battle-king. Though she was Amy's niece by title, she looked more like a reincarnation of Amy herself. The messenger reborn but crafted from harder stuff. She was taller and more muscular but they shared the same curly red-orange hair, freckles, green eyes and long face. The dimpled chin, square jaw and hawkish nose were earned from the other side of her bloodline. He couldn't recall her mother's heritage but it hardly mattered, Welton blood sang through her so loud it drown out any doubt about her lineage. The Welton heir.

Her face bore the scars of a battle hardened fighter but she stood alone and unarmed. From her posture she looked ready to do battle with them all. If he had a sword, he would have thrown it and himself down and pledged himself to fight at her back.

When she collided with Christopher he couldn't help but smile. Once, a lifetime ago, he had felt that way too when Bennonton looked at him. Enthralled. The warrior and her battle-king? They looked perfect together and he wondered if she was ready for Christopher's fearless adventures. At least he felt reassured she was well guarded. Alexander could offer his honor to her properly another time.

The rest of the day was a blur of emotions. He held himself together to support his family as best he could but as he watched his eldest brother walk off with Frankie Welton his chest grow tight with an unusual heaviness. The joy he felt for his brother warmed him but he was filled with the grief of Amy's passing. It was difficult to imagine never having her wisdom ever again. The loss brought back memories of the greater loss. It was hard to breathe.

"I think I'm going to have a walk around." He told his brothers and sister, exchanging hugs with them.

Remember the good times and all the good things, he told himself.

In the last few months she had been in so much pain. It was a blessing to lay that burden down. In his heart, he wished she really was in a better place. Was she reunited with her heart's desire? Was she riding across the ever-after with Kelly and princess Winifred? Would she meet his children? Perhaps that is what made the keening longing swell inside him.

He wanted his Lord General.

His beloved was in his thoughts more than usual. It frightened him that he could barely remember his handsome, fierce features. Even the faces of their children dimmed over the years between. How much time would have passed for him there? Surely he'd found someone else. It was always the way they expected, that Alexander would depart first. Alexander told him not to waste time mourning him. He wanted Bennonton to live and be happy. His wild spirit deserved to find love again.

Alexander wished he had enough years to live so he could heal enough to find someone. He'd met some lovely men but none brave enough to lure him to their arms. There was no equal to the unbreakable high prince. He glanced back the way he'd come and felt himself smile at the memory of his brother's expression when Frankie ran into him.

Yes, they would be a good match.

Gods and devils, he couldn't wait for Frankie to meet the mounts. Maybe it would ease their mourning. While they were relieved Amy's pain was ended, they were confused and lost in this world without her or any other worthy rider to claim.

He considered how best to help the mounts while he walked, glad of something easier to focus on. The sunset faded from the sky and dusk began to ease some of the autumn heat from the air and the sound of people and children slowly began to fade as guests departed to their homes. He would have to return to his family soon and help with cleanup, but he just needed a few more moments to clear his heart.

As he rounded the back corner of the building and heard the low, choked cry. He thought it was a dog, the muffled whine of something trapped. A big dog, he thought as he slowed his steps. No, it sounded more human. Gods, please don't let it be his uncle and Mambo out here taking their grief out on one another. He squared his shoulders, ready to pull fighters apart and moved around the corner to see what had happened.

There was a figure curled on the grass in the lengthening darkness. He signed, shoulders slumping forward, "Uncle Sebastian?" But no, the person was huge but not his uncle. Crumpled onto his side, back to Alexander, he appeared to be completely nude. In an unsteady rhythm, his sides rose and fell in time with those whimpers. His bald head was tipped forward as though trying to huddle against some horrible cold. Despite the late summer heat, he could see the broad shoulders trembling.

"What the hell?" He ran to the man's side and knelt beside the figure, not sure he should touch him. There was no one else around to explain what happened. His voice roused the person though, the shoulder muscles tightened and the man rolled towards Alexander with a raw, broken sound bubbling up from somewhere inside that vast chest.

It hit him like a comet. Not a crash of destruction but a gathering of force and energy traveling some inhuman distance to slam into him. His heart and soul and mind were consumed by the brilliance of that contact. A sensation he never thought to feel again overwhelmed him, burning cheerfully into scarred holes left in his soul.

"Zan'Dar!" The Lord General of the southern kingdoms panted out the name as he completed rolling towards him and reaching out for him in desperation.

"Ben? Oh Gods! You're hurt." It was such a horrible understatement but he couldn't get out any other sane word through the screaming sensations raging through him.

His big hand cupped Alexander's cheek, it felt cold and wet but the touch was so familiar. The crippling relief drove out the fear and pain for a moment. "Just a cut. Had to...fight through. Damned demons. Cursed northerners. I'm here. I'm with you."

With him, right now. Drawing the same breath. Touching. After so many years. He choked on his happy sob. But for how long? He shrugged out of his jacket and spread it over his shoulders and kissed him. "We'll get you fixed. Don't you dare fucking leave me again."

"Worth it. Worth everything." He winced and grunted as Alexander checked his stomach and the wound. In the dark he could tell very little about it other than it was long and deep. The man shuddered as he bit back another sound of agony when they were touched.

He stopped exploring the wound and stroked a hand over Bennonton's bald scalp. "Your feathers. You're glorious feathers, my love."

He grunted out a broke laugh. "They will return."

Behind the glorious sensation of the reconnected bond and the wild disorientation of it slamming back all at once, he felt the frantic distress of Amberlynn and Jasper. He couldn't hear their words over the roaring in his head, just felt the panic. It was impossible to reach out to assure them.

"I've not come across the threshold to die upon your door. Leave me and get the medica. I will be here."

"I don't want to leave you. I...I'm afraid you'll go."

"Since when are you afraid?" He closed his eyes, shivering. Despite his horrible pain, he was smiling.

Leaving him was his only recourse. He had to get help if he didn't want his beloved to bleed out on the grass. He gave his hands a squeeze and stood, hating himself and cursing for not having the ability to mend him. He broke into a run and almost collided with his mother and father.

"Alexander. What on earth?" Her eyes went to his blood streaked face to the mess of his shirt and loss of his jacket and then darted towards the sound of the groan just around the corner.

"He's hurt. Help. Oh, gods. Please." He heard the plea spill from his lips in the spirit-tongue and had to force himself to form the words more carefully in English.

His father pushed him carefully to the side and jogged into the shadows.

"I'll get grandmother. Stay with him." His mother cupped his face and then released him, moving swiftly away to get Delphine.

"Stay still young man, I'm here to help. Lay still," Anthony said calmly as Alexander rushed back to Bennonton's side. His father gave him a glance, full of questions they had no time to answer. "Your mounts are going to do themselves a harm, son."

"I can't seem to hear them. I'm..." He fanned a hand at his temple before reaching to take Bennonton's floundering hand.

"Focus on them and make sure they know you're safe and well." His father's voice was firm and then he was trying to check the wounds in the darkness.

When he closed his eyes and forcefully pushed at the heavy veil of emotions tangled around him, he could feel the relief of both of his mounts. The prince is here. His prince! His General! Bennonton was here! He is wounded. I'm sorry—so sorry.

There was a thrill of excitement from both mounts. They extended their affection and relieved support, punctuated by a cavalier smugness of Jasper. Of course the prince had come. I said so, didn't I?

By the time he could open his eyes again, ears ringing and head spinning, grandmother Delphine was there, tutting quietly over the man. Her bright, knowing eyes only glanced at Alexander once before she attended to the wounds.

"Blankets, Alexander. Go and get this man something more than the jacket hmm? Table clothes from inside will work just as well as anything for the drive home. Sooner we get him safely there the better."

Again he had to relinquish Bennonton hands, kissing the scarred knuckles before forcing himself to let go. He ran inside, ignoring all the wild stares at his state and ripped the coverings from the first tables he came to. He touched the precious spot inside him, felt it flicker in response and then grow steady and warm. His heart.

"Alexander! What's going on?" Sean, his cousin, appeared at his side, wide-eyed. "Are you alright. Wait, where the hell are you going?"

"I'll explain later," he growled and grabbed another tablecloth before rushing back out into the night. The sense of Bennonton was all around him and he was there. Home! Please stay.

Please don't go!

I need you.

All the millions of things he'd thought of telling him for long, miserable years. I love you. Love you. Love.

Sean didn't leave his side though. His jaw was tight with worry and around the questions he obviously wanted to ask. He stared after Alexander, stumbling slightly and falling a step back as he took it in.

"Sean!" Mother called. "Bring the car around. Here. The keys." She tossed them, turning to focus on the man again. "Close your mouth and get the car, boy."

He would have gladly traded places and suffered the pain but he could only help wrap the man in the cloths, wincing as the blood stained the stark white fabric. Moving him was a challenge. He was the same vigorous man Alexander remembered and it took all of their strength to carry him to the car Sean drove around to them.

Alexander wedged himself into the backseat with his beloved, cradling his head in his lap and grateful to feel the fingers twined with his.

"Who is this giant, Alexander?" his father asked as they sped away from the community center, heading home. He caught the concerned gaze in the rearview mirror and was transported to his childhood suddenly. A drive from the airport and a boy's petulant whining.

My beloved. My heart. My soul's desire. My one and only. My General. My King. The father of our children. "My friend." He choked around the stupidity of not admitting all the rest and felt the nuzzle of amusement from the man in question.

"Little fool." Bennonton whispered in the spirit-tongue and nuzzled his cheek against his stomach. "My little fool!"

His mother twisted around in her seat to stare at him in disbelief. "Friend? Alexander Harris-Wallace! You never mentioned a 'friend'. Does he go around getting knifed in the gut often?"

He wanted to laugh and admit how many times the big man had worse than that but bit back the response. "I love him mother. I love him."

The anger on her face fled, followed by wonder and a touch of awed concern. "Really? Truly?" She glanced at the big man and then back at Alexander, head shaking from side to side. "You never said anything."

No disbelief about his sexual orientation. No shock or concern. Just happiness showed in her eyes and that depth of wonder.

"You would never have believed me if I tried to tell it all."

His father choked on a laugh. "Son...there isn't much we haven't seen."

"All this time you let us try to pair you with these women. You never said anything. Did you think we would be...upset?"

He shrugged and Bennonton chuckled very softly, his smile curling wider. The fingers threaded through his squeezed possessively, a little stronger than before.

"Yes." He admitted. "And, I didn't think I'd ever see him again. Easier to let a girl down easy than for you to get upset about something that—"

"We would never be upset about something like that. I know we get fixated on talk of children but that's not important, love. This is wonderful. I am only sorry he's hurt." She looked down at him and then back to Alexander. "I haven't had the pleasure of his name yet."

"Calvary General, Lord Bennonton, Prince of the southern kingdoms. Highlord of the first gate and wielder of the soul blade." It felt so good saying his title that his voice shook with the fire behind each word.

Her brows knitted as she took this in and narrowed her eyes a moment, looking for the first time that he ever could remember...confused. "Bennonton." She pronounced back to him, one corner of her mouth quirking up. "We are going to have a very long sit-down and talk about this...man of yours. When we are sure he is stitched back together and not going to flee from us." A pause and then, "Are his people going to be hunting for him?"

Alexander looked down and found his eyes watching, intent and adoring. They were not golden but pale amber brown.

"No." Bennonton answered, in thickly accented English.

"Thank the gods for that. It's a pleasure to meet you Bennonton." She smiled to him, with genuine pleasure.

"Your son—is a mighty, um—" He rolled a few sounds around before trying out. "Warrior, mother."

It didn't seem to surprise her, or she was better at concealing her emotions now. "Oh, I know he is." She reached back to ruffle Alexander's hair and sighed heavily. Then she turned herself forward and cuddled against Father's side, head resting on his shoulder.

"You are so young, bright-eyes," Bennonton murmured in the spirit-tongue, soft lyrical words he had ached to hear for so long. "No hair on that chin of yours! Oh dear me. Oh dear. I am a dirty old man."

"I'm twenty-four!" He leaned down and kissed his forehead, sniffling as the tears came. "Gods and devils I've missed you, my king."

"I've missed you, beautiful boy," Bennonton sighed quietly and drifted to sleep.

It was a long night and Alexander wasn't able to sleep at all. After the stitches and the medication grammy made, Bennonton drifted in and out of a fevered sleep. Hot and then cold, he tossed and turned but close to dawn, he finally seemed able to drift to sleep. A true, healing sleep.

He stayed close though, sitting in the chair beside the bed, watching him sleeping. He looked up from his guard to find his mother in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Her bright eyes were very keen and interested. "You were a solder there?" She asked quietly. "This place he's from?"

He felt heat warm his cheeks and he looked away, shrugging. It felt strange to talk about it with his mother. The old fear that she wouldn't believe swimming up his throat to glue his mouth closed. Slowly he let the story unfold. Aided by the mounts who apparently had guarded his secrets as their own. She frowned, eyes slightly unfocused at times as she seemed to receive evidence from her mount.

"My god. Alexander. Why didn't you tell me?"

"The mounts knew. I thought they told you."

She narrowed her eyes and then sighed. "No my son. They protect you as though you are one of them. I guess you are one of them in a way." She wiped her eyes and then leaned over to hug him. "I am glad you told me everything. I am so sorry I wasn't able to help you with this burden you've been carrying all these years. I knew you were changed after the accident but I would have never guessed how much."

He woke to the sensation of someone watching and blinked awake. Bennonton's smile was radiant when their eyes met. "I woke you with a look? Truly? Dreamer." He leaned and kissed his eyelid. "What has become of your scars, beloved boy?"

Alexander rolled towards him, sliding an arm around his chest as carefully as he could. He explained what happened when he came through. A boy again. Forced to live through a life without migration and honor and wars. At last he murmured, "I'm not as strong now as I was when I ran the migration and tried to keep up with you. Does it displease you?"

"No, bright-eyes." Bennonton lay a hand over Alexander's heart. "This is who you are. And Mine. I don't see you as soft and frail. Your spirit is strong as before. I love you. I will always love you in whatever form you pick." Such sweet words and followed with a small, almost shy kiss, as though he were cherishing something very precious.

"And what of the children? Are they alright? Healthy? Whole?"

"They are your children in heart and looks, beautiful darlings. Our son sits the throne for us. And our daughter rules in the west with her fine dandy of a husband. You would like the little velvet peacock quite well I think. Kyrie-bred they say, although not to his face. Not that it matters, he's a good king and a fine husband."

"And your sister? Did she...get what she wanted?"

"Ah Zan'Dar! She did not wish for such a tragedy to befall your blood sister! Tsh. She and the High Lady K'lee are beyond happy together. I don't think either of them or their deity would care for you mourning their union." He smiled warmly and Alexander could see the joy there, and how much he would miss them. "It is a small price to pay to return to your side." He snuggled in closer, rumbling out a weak growl. "You still smell like pears and cinnamon."

They slept like that for most of the day. Bennonton didn't wake when Alexander untangled himself from his arms to get him food but he was awake when he returned with the tray of fruits and tea and some of the boiled oats and the fruity little pear-like pearls from the red tree that had helped him recover. "You should eat."

Bennonton crinkled his nose as he scrunched back into the pillows but slowly smiled. "Well and well. Fine. I will." After attempting a few small bites he asked. "What is it you do? Do you rule here? Your clothing is strange. Not silk and not velvet. It's hideous you realize." He plucked at the tee-shirt with playfully demure fingers.

"Now who is the peacock hm? No, I don't rule. I'm a chef."

"A chef?" Bennonton coughed and sputtered. "What? A cook?" An amusing expression of horror and outrage settled over his handsome features. "Zan'Dar, Keeper of the Breath of Life, is a cook? Do you serve a noble house?"