The Demon Lord And His Hero

"I have known you for a lifetime. This is what my heart tells me."

Syryn's eyes went wide and the words played inside his head like an echo.

"What do you mean?" The question was squeezed out in an artificially calm tone.

"I might sound insane, Syryn, but there's something so achingly familiar about you and I can't understand why."

Rowan was solemn and unembarrassed in his admission. Syryn could say the most explicit things without reservation but this - revealing his innermost thoughts to Rowan was a hurdle that was almost insurmountable.

"It does sound insane," Syryn replied. What was happening? Was Rowan starting to remember?

"I am haunted by the thoughts that we were together in another life. Do you feel the same?" The anti mage asked, fearless, despite the vulnerability that was apparent in the tightness of his shoulders. Syryn could crush him with a single word. It would be horrible and cruel, underserved, but the last thing the world needed was a Rowan deviating from his set path.

"No."

He could sometimes be dense but he wasn't an outright idiot. The alchemist could discern a burgeoning affection in the eyes of the anti mage; a warmth that could not be mistaken for friendship. Rowan was so transparent with his feelings that Syryn could not feign ignorance

And if the anti mage was slowly recovering his memories, Syryn had to kill Rowan's infatuation in the womb. It was the best decision for the good of the world and a future Rowan who would remember that he had a wife.

So with that single word which carried the weight of his rejection, he snuffed out the tentative hope in Rowan's heart. To the anti mage's credit, there was a fleeting flash of pained disappointment before it was erased away.

"I apologise," Rowan bowed his head so he wouldn't have to face Syryn's cold eyes, "I have burdened you with my expectations."

The anti mage had never appeared lonelier to Syryn and it broke his heart.

"Stop.. don't- don't make that face Rowan."

An iron box that was locked away in the deepest recesses of the alchemist's mind had begun to shake, demanding to be opened. Syryn had locked it away a long time ago for reasons that included Rowan's marriage.

"Can't I be allowed to feel disappointment?" the anti mage replied, gaze briefly flickering to Syryn. Rowan turned his back to Syryn and put some distance between them. Right beside the blonde, there was a lantern bud that still hadn't bloomed. Reaching out to it, he plucked the bud with a gentle tug.

This had Syryn wincing at the anti mage's careless treatment of Eos' flower.

Rowan caressed the closed petals of the bud and spent a few moments holding it, letting it rest on his palm while he gave himself the time to feel through Syryn's unhesitant rejection.

When he made peace with it, Rowan held the bud out to Syryn, who - taken aback by the offer- looked up into Rowan's eyes, refusing to take it.

"A gift to commemorate our first outing together," Rowan informed him. First? How optimistic, Syryn thought. Reluctant, he accepted the flower because it would have been petty not to - as much as he feared Eos' wrath.

Neither of the two were ready for the magnificence with which the bud bloomed suddenly in Syryn's hand. The soft yellow petals had unfurled to reveal an inner throat that was brilliantly alight.

"Is this normal?" Syryn asked, tone muted.

"No," Rowan replied, staring at the flower with quiet intensity, "I've never seen that happen."

Syryn felt like the stem was burning in his hand. Him, a demon, touching the sacred flower of a Goddess whose light was the antithesis to the darkness of his kind.

"I think Eos likes you," the blonde informed him with a smile.

Syryn was almost shocked into dropping the flower by that horrifying thought. There was no possible way that Eos could feel anything but hatred for his kind.

"Careless words breed disappointment," Syryn shoved the flower back at Rowan, smacking it against the anti mage's chest. In doing so, the taller boy caught his hand refused to let it go. It led to a staring match between the two.

Syryn's response had struck a chord of frustration in the anti mage. With a little more heat, he demanded some of the truth that Syryn was smothering to death. "What are you so afraid of?!"

Neither of the two were paying enough attention to the blossom to notice how it's light pulsed in the centre of their tangled fingers.

"I'm afraid of you misunderstanding my good will for something else," Syryn snapped and it stung the anti mage. "What do you think you're doing Rowan? Your feelings are so plain on your face even a child could see through you. Aren't you to be Eos' hero?" The world needs you to be the saviour again. To join in union with Lillith so that her powers will amplify yours, and you can be the dashing golden boy who cuts through demons like a hot knife through butter.

"You're very cruel, Syryn." Rowan softly replied, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Yes, he was cruel, but Rowan would thank him for it later. Syryn could not allow himself to give in and pretend that he hadn't died once already. If Traxdart was allowed to run unchecked and rampant, Syryn might have to die again. It was a fate he hoped to avoid this time. Rowan had to be in top form to face the mad emperor.

"And what of it?" Syryn asked, colder than he had intended to sound.

"I don't know," Rowan ran a hand through his gold hair. "You've turned my world upside down and you have no idea."

Rowan would have continued his life, content with letting fate take him wherever it wanted to. He was satisfied with drifting towards the future that was painted for him - with some unknown priestess who would have his heart and body. But Syryn had come out of nowhere like a storm and upset the threads of the events that were carefully laid out for Rowan to follow. Now he had his own selfish hopes, clear goals, desires – and all of it tied to Syryn.

"What do you really want from me Rowan? Why are you telling me these things?" The iron box was struggling mightily. Syryn swore at it and demanded it stay closed.

The anti mage took a step forward and came to stand before Syryn. "I had hoped for an outcome that would satisfy the questions that my heart seeks, that you'd tell me the truth. I know you're lying Syryn, but if that's what you want then I will pretend that it's the truth."

In the face of Rowan's kindness, the alchemist wavered, wishing he could close the distance between them and make it okay. Rowan was hurting, and right now, Syryn was sure that his old friend was in there somewhere.

"I- " the chains on the iron box snapped under the force of blue eyes that had no right to look so crushed. "You are right. I lied."

"About?" Rowan immediately replied, leaning forward into Syryn's space - so close he could make out the individual points where Rowan's lashes began. Why couldn't Rowan just lick his wounds and fuck off? Syryn's internal voice snarled.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Syryn couldn't do it.

"Do you want me to say that I've always known just how you liked your potions? Or that your fighting style was familiar to me? Or that I know how soft you are under that brutal anti mage strength you like to show off? That I came here with you because I saw that you were upset? Cause none of that is true!" Syryn began a rant that shut his friend's mouth.

"None of it! Take your stupid flower and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Fucking stupid anti mages who don't know when to shut up! You've ruined everything!"

Syryn looked into the iron box and he was met with a seed that had been hastily buried away before it could germinate. Rowan had been and was still off limits. Now that the impossible had happened, the alchemist was compelled to confront his buried feelings. Denial was no longer an armor he could wear.

"Ruined what?" Rowan demanded. "Can you stop speaking in riddles??" Syryn cared about him. Rowan held that admission close to his heart but refrained from asking about it to the volatile mage.

"No, I can't you annoying blonde brick. If you can't remember for yourself then I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because.." there was no reason he couldn't tell Rowan. "You will remember it yourself." Syryn did not have the courage to explain the sequence of events that began with his metamorphosis into a savage demon lord.

"What if it doesn't happen?" Rowan asked, impatience sharp in every word he spoke. The headache inducing voice he had been hearing wasn't just him going stir crazy. Syryn's answers alluded to something, a connection between them that Rowan could not remember. He was reminded again that he had a promise to fulfil but to whom? Was it Syryn?

"It will." Red had remembered, and Rowan was partially recalling. What did it all mean? Would everyone remember?

"Then answer this much, what was the nature of our relationship?"

Syryn's heart ached for Rowan. The world was unfair. He was only a tool and a side character in Rowan's epic. Maybe he had recieved a second chance at life so he could prepare Rowan for the appointed time. The alchemist braced himself for the heartbreak he would endure for the sake of their future.