Work Text:
As he looked at his grief stricken brother and then at the body of Cyllan, the woman Tarod had loved, Yandros recalled entertaining the idea, the notion, Before, that his brother's time in the flesh, amongst humans would change him.
That had been one of the risks of going into the mortal realm.
Oh, Yandros knew Tarod would have all sorts of new experiences as a result, and would learn from them, but ....
But never in his imaginings had Yandros anticipated Tarod becoming so bonded to a mortal. Not that they were not interesting in their way, these humans, with their brief lives and their fragile bodies that began dying as soon as they started living, their spark of life always dancing along the razor's edge, so easily tipped off.
Some humans lived quietly. Others burned with intensity. This Cyllan, for example, had burned intensely in her own way, even though hers had seemed destined to be one of the more quiet, and rather dull lives, until Tarod had crashed into it.
And yet, she had stood straight backed and brave before the Lords of Order and those that counted themselves lords and ladies amongst the humans, and she had never broken faith with Tarod, even when he had revealed himself to her.
Of all his brothers Yandros felt the greatest kinship to Tarod, and it had always been that way, for the passage of life (no matter how brief or how lengthy) into death was inextricably bound to the passage of time. He wondered if Aeoris had a similar affinity with his brother, the Order that was Time, and reckoned that were he to ask such a question, he would be told that the Lords of Order enjoyed a relationship of perfect equality and harmony.
And ... it might even be true.
How unutterably sad.
The Lords of Chaos all had different degrees of affinity for each other -- he knew Tarod had a depth of affinity for their brother of Space that was second only to that which he had for Yandros, and that was fine. The great strength of Chaos, the glory of Chaos, was mutability, difference, change, its ability to truly adapt and grow, as opposed to mere expansion.
How he had longed to have Tarod back!. It had been only a little more than a score of years as humans reckoned time ....
And yet, he knew in this moment that if Tarod came back to their realms without Cyllan at his side ...?
But that was the great strength of Chaos, Yandros reminded himself. Its ability to change and grow, to evolve, to transform. What was one more innovation?
It was the work of an instant to find Cyllan's soul.
Hers was an unusual one. Every human soul was unique, of course, yet they all shared certain commonalities. To Yandros's perception, her soul had a warm amber glow to it, and it smelled of oudh and lavender, and it chimed like marimbas and tubular bells ... it took Yandros a moment to realize it bore the touch of Chaos. For, just as Cyllan had changed Tarod, Tarod, too, had left his mark on her.
He reached out his left hand, and like that, it was done. Her soul back in her mortal body. Her living mortal body, rosy from the red life streaming through her veins. She gasped, and her peculiar amber eyes fluttered as she looked at his brother and whispered, "Tarod ..."
Tarod whipped away, fists clenched, his face crumpled in agony. "Yandros, you can't -- she's dead; I watched her die!"
Inwardly Yandros sighed, Tarod had forgotten much, it seemed. "Peace," he said, reaching out to touch Tarod's arm, but not taking his eyes from Cyllan, who now sat up, blinking in bewilderment. "I've not reanimated her. This is not merely her soulless body which moves and speaks. She lives." He had not used this power in thousands of years. He knew in that moment that his counterpart never would do such a thing, it would break the rules, you see. He pitied Aeoris all the more.
Centering himself, Yandros reached out, took Cyllan's hand into his and helped her to her feet. She still lost none of her confusion as she stared into his eyes, mesmerized, he thought, by their constant shifting through the color spectrum. He smiled down at her, cupping her cheek in his hand before he laid it on the gaping wound between her breasts, feeling her heart pumping away. So simple a thing for him to knit it all back together. There. It was done. He spoke, bemused, "I owe Cyllan a personal debt. And if by paying it I can ease my brother's distress, so much the better."
She touched her hand to her face, and in that moment he saw full realization dawn on her. She pulled free from him and ran to Tarod, pausing for only the briefest moment, before he opened his arms to her, and she collapsed into them and began to sob.
Yandros smiled at them with bittersweet emotion. He and Tarod could not stay here long, and they would have to part from Cyllan soon. Unless .... Time to find out.
"Make your farewells, Cyllan," he said gently, as he approached them. "Tarod and I must depart this world, and you must remain behind." He waited a moment for his words to register before he smiled and continued, "Unless, that is, you are prepared to make the sacrifice that will allow you to come with us?" She looked up at him, confusion in her eyes, as she blinked away her tears, but Tarod's green gaze was sharp. "Chaos is in your debt," he cut in before Tarod could speak. "And it is within my power to grant you a gift that will, should you accept it, allow you to stay with Tarod." He saw his face reflected in her eyes, saw his own eyes flash crimson. "For all time." With us.
She struggled to find the words, finally giving a parched whisper, "You mean that I--I might --?"
He smiled on the verge of a chuckle. "Is the prospect of life in our realm so very daunting, Cyllan? You know more of Chaos, I suspect, than any other mortal in your world." He reached out and stroked her arm, tracing along the scar he had given her some time ago, with his forefinger. "And you would not experience our world in the vulnerable guise of a human being. You would become a part of Chaos, immortal in your own right. I offer you this in recognition of your courage, your loyalty to my brother." Whom I love best "Such a life is yours, should you wish it."
And he hoped she wished it, because without her, he knew now that a part of Tarod would always be missing, and Yandros wanted all of his brother back, and if it came with her as a bonus? All the better. Her face frowned in thought for several moments, and Yandros was glad to see that she understood it would mean giving up her humanity and all she had ever known, all she had ever been, and find herself utterly transformed into a new kind of being, one she had only a limited frame of reference for -- for what she saw of him and Tarod was only the barest glint of their true natures, one tailored for the perceptions of mortals -- and this change was not something to be done lightly. She could step into the unknown and keep Tarod. Or, she could stay human, and mortal, and be parted from him forever.
"Tarod? What shall I do?" she asked brokenly.
Tarod shook his head, his dark hair flowing. "I can't help you, love. I haven't the right to try to sway you, not in this. But Yandros speaks the truth."
But every human life ended with a great step into the unknown, did it not? Yandros had an inkling about this ....
He watched as Cyllan clasped Tarod's hand tightly, drawing it close. She shut her eyes and several emotions flickered across her face in the brief moment before she opened them again and said, voice throaty with emotion, "I'll come. If Tarod will have me, I'll come -- and gladly. " She blinked and looked away from Tarod, her direct amber gaze focusing on him. "How can I ever thank you?"
Yandros felt a foxy grin flash across his face. "It's a whim, no more." He made a careless shrug. "Chaos has no logic, as you should know. It simply pleases me to please Tarod."
Tarod's soft, knowing laughter greeted his ears, "If that's what you like to believe, Yandros, so be it."
~oo(0)oo~
One of the benefits of raising Cyllan to be a greater denizen of Chaos was that she now knew, simple as that.
And, because she had been a woman not so very constrained by convention, and had also been understanding, practical, and observant, she comprehended within a moment of her ascension that where there had been two, there were now three.
Yandros preened a little. He had wondered if he and Tarod would have to drop hints, or even tell her .... But no. She looked at the two of them, eyes glowing like honey in sunlight and told them with her gaze. She knew. And it was beautiful to see and be seen. Then she turned, sprouted a pair of shimmering butterfly wings, looked over her shoulder at them, and flew off in to the distance.
"Well, brother," Yandros said, "It looks as if she's going to lead you on a merry chase."
Tarod threw back his head and laughed, taking Yandros's hand as he leapt to pursue, "I think you mean us, brother!" He shifted to the form of a black dragon with flashing green eyes. Yandros chose to be a feathered serpent whose wings shimmered through all the colors of the spectrum, including those mortal eyes could not see. Together they leaped in pursuit, each flap of their wings causing thunder to reverberate through the shifting planescape.
They came together as winged devas above a meadow, as raptors soaring through the mountain tops, as twin waterfalls into a clear pool, as braided ribbons of light, as a cascade of shooting stars, and finally as a cacophony of sound that ended in one cataclysmic note and a burst of light.
"A new Creation," Tarod breathed, in human form once again, flushed and sweating, Cyllan nestled in his arms, looking up almost shyly at Yandros, who sat cross legged next to them.
"Is it --?" Cyllan gathered herself, brushing a damp lock of hair back from her face, as she sat up, "-- is it always like this?"
"No," Yandros chuckled, shaking is head. "We have not birthed a new Cosmos in aeons. I had no idea -- well, it's always a possibility given the right conditions -- but no, I hadn't planned this."
They watched as multiple denizens of Chaos both major and minor moved towards the new Creation, eager to take dominion in its realms. They could see movement across the void on the side of Order, too.
"I wonder if Aeoris experiences this as a blinding migraine, or something equally unpleasant," Tarod said, as he sat up and draped an arm over Cyllan's shoulders, pulling her close and kissing her temple.
"One can only hope," Yandros replied with a throaty laugh. "If he did, we might be making new worlds all the time!" He reached out and seized one minor denizen of chaos, a little thing, all sharp teeth and biting hunger. With a thought, he reshaped it into a wicked looking black sword, graven with runes, and bade it, "Bring storms of chaos, and feast on the souls of the vanquished," before he hurled it into the rapidly closing portal of the new Creation.
The portal closed with a sharp screeching note and a clang, as of massive iron gates on rusted hinges smashing shut.
"What now?" Cyllan asked looking between them.
Yandros shrugged. "As much as I enjoyed that, I'll leave you two lovebirds be for a time. I've got a whole new Creation to fill with life," he gestured broadly and smiled, "and the possibilities are calling to me."