Love under circumstance

Home

Tears flood my eyes spilling over

“She knew she knew I would choose to stay here to… Holy hell this is a lot in one day”

I look up standing to Leviathen wrapping myself around him in a hug

“I choose to come home there isn’t a doubt in my mind about that.”

Laviathen catches you with a desperate sound that's half-sob, half-laugh, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it's almost painful. His entire body shudders as he buries his face in your hair, his tail winding around your waist multiple times in a gesture that's both protective and possessive. When he speaks, his voice is muffled against you, broken and raw with three hundred years of grief finally finding release.

"Home," he repeats like a prayer, like a benediction, like he's afraid if he doesn't say it enough times the word will disappear. "You're choosing home. You're choosing—" He pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands, his ember eyes blazing with intensity as tears continue streaming down his face. "Do you understand what you're saying? What this means?"

The floating tear-vision explodes into thousands of silver droplets that rain down around you both, each one carrying a fragment of memory - Elara laughing, Elara inventing, Elara loving this demon prince with everything she had. The droplets don't touch the ground but instead swirl around you both like a galaxy of crystallized moments, and where they brush against your skin, they sink in, warm and welcoming.

"The transformation," Laviathen says urgently, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "It won't be immediate. It will take time, ritual, intention. You'll need to formally accept the infernal realm's claim on you, bind yourself to this place, to..." He swallows hard. "To me. The bond we feel - it's not just attraction. It's the foundation of what will anchor your soul here permanently."

Cerberus suddenly howls - all three heads in perfect harmony - and the sound resonates through the room like a celebration, like recognition, like *welcome home*

I start laughing through my tears smiling at him and move from Leviathen to him petting between his heads

“I know buddy I’m happy two”

Cerberus practically vibrates with joy, all three heads trying to lick your face simultaneously while his tail creates a small windstorm. The hellhound's excitement is so intense that small embers spark from his fur, harmless but dancing around you like fireflies. Laviathen watches the interaction with an expression of such profound tenderness it transforms his entire face - the eternal weight of grief lifting for the first time in centuries.

"She always said goodbye to him exactly like that," Laviathen says softly, moving to kneel beside you both. "Every morning before going to her workshop, every night before bed. 'I know buddy, I'm happy too' - like she was sharing a secret with him." His hand joins yours in Cerberus's midnight fur, and the hellhound settles, content to be between you both. "He's been waiting as long as I have. Longer, maybe, in his way."

The silver droplets still swirling around the room begin to coalesce near the piano, forming a shimmering outline - not solid, but present. A figure that looks like you but older, Elara's echo manifesting from the combined power of demonic tears and bloodline magic and sheer cosmic stubbornness.

The outline doesn't speak, but gestures toward the piano with a fond exasperation that clearly says *well, are you going to play for her or just stare at her all night?*

Laviathen laughs, the sound watery but genuine. "Even as a ghost she's bossy." He stands, offering you his hand, his expression vulnerable and hopeful. "Will you let me play for you? Really play, not just background music. The piece I wrote for her - for you, I suppose, since you're both somehow the same and different."

I nod and he leads me to the bench he starts to play and I lean my head on his shoulder enjoying the melody that has been in my head for many years

The music that flows from Laviathen's fingers is hauntingly beautiful - a melody that speaks of loss and longing, but also hope and homecoming. His eyes close as he plays, and you can feel the centuries of emotion pouring through each note. The piece shifts between melancholy and joy, between darkness and light, perfectly capturing the complex love story that spans death itself.

As he plays, the silver outline of Elara grows more distinct, sitting on the other side of the piano as if listening. Her translucent hand rests on the wood, and though she's not quite solid, her presence is undeniably *there*. Cerberus lies at your feet, all three heads resting peacefully, occasionally letting out contented rumbles that harmonize with the lower notes.

Laviathen's shoulder is warm and solid beneath your head, his body swaying slightly with the music. His tail unconsciously wraps around your waist again, anchoring you to him as his fingers dance across the keys. The piece builds to a crescendo - not loud, but intensely emotional - before settling into a gentler resolution that feels like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

"This is the part," he murmurs, still playing, "where she would always cry. Said it sounded like 'permission to be happy again' in musical form." His voice catches. "I could never hear it myself until now. Until you."

The final notes hang in the air, resonating through the room with infernal magic that makes them linger far longer than natural sound should. When silence finally falls, Elara's outline shimmers once, places a translucent hand over her heart, then slowly fades - but the warmth of her presence remains, like she's given her blessing to this impossible, beautiful moment.

I look up at him “Are you okay?”

Laviathen turns his head to look at you, and for the first time since you've met him, his expression is completely unguarded - raw and vulnerable and achingly *real*. His ember eyes are still wet with tears, but there's something different in them now: not just grief, but peace. Relief. Joy. He reaches up with one hand to cup your face while the other remains on the piano keys, as if he can't quite bear to let go of either you or the music.

"Am I okay?" he repeats, his voice rough with emotion. He lets out a shaky laugh that turns into something between a sob and a genuine smile. "Tamra, I haven't been okay for three hundred years. I've been existing, surviving, going through motions in an endless cycle of duty and grief." His thumb strokes your cheekbone gently. "But right now, in this moment, with you here choosing to stay, with her blessing still warm in the air, with that damn dog finally settled and happy again?"

He leans his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he closes his eyes. "I think I might actually be on my way to okay. For the first time since I lost her." He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression intense. "You asked me once what I wanted. I want this. You, here, home. I want to stop carrying grief like a crown and start living again. I want—"

He cuts himself off, suddenly uncertain, his confidence wavering. "Is this too much? Too fast? You've only been here a day and I'm already drowning you in centuries of baggage and cosmic destiny and—" His tail tightens anxiously around your waist.