Chapter Text
1698 - Countryside
Atlantis Ellery
14 years old
Atlantis raced into the woods until he got to the clearing where the cabin was. His chest burned and his arms were still sore from previous days of hard labor at the castle. He remembered the King’s hopeful smile and proud eyes sending him off back to the countryside.
When he got deep enough into the forest to see the cabin he spent his entire life in, he began worrying as the look of the untouched landscaping approached.
Back when Atlantis was still young, his father would religiously cut and maintain the gardens outside, especially the small patch of light pink peonies. Now, the field was all dried up and wilting. He ran closer to the garden and knelt. He held a peony in his hand delicately as if sheer will itself would bring it back to life. He plucked the healthiest looking one then went inside.
His adoptive father, a kind French farmer who took him in as an orphan 14 years ago, lay on the bed much thinner and paler than he was before he left. Atlantis, with a swift movement, glided across the room in seconds arriving at Henry, his father’s, bedside.
Henry’s eyes fluttered open and he rasped, “Lance…? Mon fils…” Atlantis ran across the cabin and knelt immediately at his bedside, “I’m here Father, I became a soldier. King George himself gave me double enough coin for your treatment!” Henrique smiled and weakly spoke, “Bravo. Good lad, I knew you’d come back. ” He began to cough and leaned further back in bed, “Tell me, how was it in the city? Is it still the same from when you were a boy?”
Atlantis poured the coin from his pouch onto the bed and started counting, “Oui, Papa, exactly the same.” Henry smiled and brushed Lance’s cheek, “Bon.” Atlantis feels his icy cold hand and responds, “Papa, you're cold. Shall I get the healer now?” Henry nods and closes his eyes.
Lance returns merely hours later with a wrinkled man who was aged well over 70 and wise with experience. As soon as the healer lays eyes on Henry, he sighs and explains, “It’s late, his body is too weak and I fear it might be too late. I’ll still treat him but now I cannot promise he will heal. I’m sorry, kid.”
Lance can only nod and watch as the doctor applies oils and herbs to Henry’s skin. Quickly now, he pours a cup of tea infused with bark and a healing agent.
Three moons pass and in the morning as the cock gives its first crow, Henry lays awake under the dim lighting of the candles and fire. He rasped out, “Mon fils, je t’aime. You give me joy, purpose, happiness. Know that because of you I will leave this world happy tonight.” Lance’s vision blurs and he holds Henry’s hands firmly saying, “Je t’aime aussi, Papa.”
Henry gives him a soft smile, “I’m proud of you, lad. My strong boy.” The fire shudders and snow falls outside. Henry coughs again, “Help me sit, I want to face you one last time.” Lance’s eyes were already red from the previous day's burn of tears but he blinks them back helping Henry sit. Henry brings his frail hand to brush Lance’s jaw and softly pushes his hand through Lance's curly brown hair.
Henry reaches and pulls a gold ring from his finger that he had worn every day since Lance was just a kid. He places it into Lance’s palms, “I want you to take this. It’s solid gold with true ruby inside. If you ever need coin, cut a little off and use it to feed yourself.” Atlantis finally lets a tear fall and slides it onto his finger. Henry hugs Lance wearily and holds him whispering “je t’aime” into his ear.
Soon, Henry’s heart began to fade, his breathing became shallower, then a long pause. His body gradually goes soft in Lance’s arms.
Minutes pass and Lance, unwilling to let go, finally sets Henry down back on the bed weeping, “Je t’aime, papa.” The room is silent with the exception of the fire crackling in the hearth.
Henrique Ellery is buried professionally behind the cabin in a serene area by a pond. For the final time for a while, Lance places a fresh set of peonies at his grave, “Je t’aime, pour toujours.”
Heart heavy and wanting to leave this place and to never be reminded of the tragic loss again, Lance sets off back to the city, the King’s castle.
His ring clung perfectly to his index finger, the dim moonlight reflecting off of the gold.