The Demon Lord And His Hero

Syryn undressed in an empty street not too far from where the fight was taking place. Patches of cloth were ripped away when he couldn't get the dress off as fast as he would have liked to. After a short struggle, his upper body was finally uncovered to the air. Dully, Syryn stared at his half nakedness, his porcelain skin appearing unusually pale in the light of the fake moons that illuminated the night. He discarded the entire dress wishing that he had brought along a shirt. It was too late for regrets.

A black hair ribbon was then produced from the pocket of his pants. Using the aforementioned item, Syryn tied his long hair back with deft and quick movements. He then took a few steps forward, unsure of where he was going. Which direction was home?

"Sounds like they're having fun," he voiced aloud to himself at the sound of the cheers that rose in a crescendo.

The teen then proceeded to aimlessly amble around, taking corners and detours that he hoped would lead to a place that was familiar to him. It wasn't long before Syryn began to regret his impulsive decision to leave Vincent. Without a ride home or any knowledge of his general direction, the teen had no hope of reaching the manor. Strangely, he felt Rowan's anti mage field was thinning out in favour of rapidly spreading out over a greater area. The blond's purpose for such an action escaped Syryn's understanding.

He looked up at the sky, the only familiar sight in a landscape of houses that crowded around him crookedly. Sighing, Syryn shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the tall buildings. He could only imagine the amount of ridicule that he would have to entertain when he was found by friends.

The sound of conversation drew the mage's attention to his left. He dared not hope for it but the voice had sounded like Sebastian's. The teen quickened his steps in the direction of the voice. Yes, he elatedly cheered. It was Sebastian. But just who was he talking to?

"There he is. We've been lookin' fer you, S'ryn."

The teenager was rooted to the ground when he saw who it was that Sebastian had been conversing with. The Night king's mask was off. Too long had it been since Syryn had laid eyes on the gold hair and blue eyes that framed a perfect face only Eos could have sculpted. The blond man briefly let his gaze drop over Syryn's exposed chest. It had the alchemist overheating from just that brief glance.

"Syryn, why are you shirtless?" The blond anti mage asked. There was a flash of amusement in his cerulean eyes. He had been Syryn's age when they'd last seen each other. Now 20 years old by the alchemist's estimation, Rowan was more enchanting than he had ever been.

"I couldn't wear it under the dress- what are you laughing about?!" Syryn turned to glare at Sebastian.

"Yer adorable when ya blush like that," Sebastian replied.

"Are you blind?" Syryn hotly retorted. "I'm not blushing. It's the make up I had to put on for the stupid role."

"Whatever ya say, S'ryn. I'm gonna call it a night and go home to my bed so..." The mage turned to Rowan and grinned, "have a nice time you two."

The teenager's cheeks warmed at Sebastian's little innuendo. His eyes then darted away from Rowan's face. Too many things were happening much too quickly and Syryn's taxed brain was unable to catch up. In a fit of panic, he turned around to leave but then realised how idiotic that was, and how Rowan was going to find out that Syryn was a dumbass.

What was he doing? Syryn had already turned his back to Rowan and was standing still like a moron while his brain did the overthinking thing it liked to do when the blond was around.

The teenager could feel the anti mage's keen gaze between his shoulder blades. "Ryn, will you please turn around and face me? I promise not to bite."

Embarrassment reigned in, Syryn spun on his heels to scowl at Rowan. "How did you find me?" It came out colder than he intended.

"I can uniquely identify and follow magical signatures that come under the effect of my field. I tracked you through it."

Syryn's surprise grew like a balloon in his chest until it popped and he blinked. "You're not supposed to be able to do that so soon," he blurted out. It was through the passage of several years of study and practise that his Rowan had reached the point that second life Rowan had already prematurely attained.

In response to his words, Rowan smiled, and the curve of his lips upset Syryn because it matched so perfectly with that of the man he used to know. The teenager had two separate visions of Rowan in his mind - the Rowan that had saved him, and the Rowan of this life. To his dismay, the distance between the two had suddenly reduced.

"You sound unhappy about it."

"No," Syryn replied hastily. "I'm not unhappy. The sooner you gain more power, the better it is for us all."

"I hope that's not all I am to you, Syryn," the anti mage said. He walked closer to Syryn so there wasn't such a large gap between them. The alchemist found that the top of his head barely skimmed the line of Rowan's chest.

"What do you mean?" He was forced to tilt his head much further back than he had anticipated. Fortunately, there was still time for Syryn to grow.

"A weapon, Is that all I am to you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he frowned at the anti mage. "Is it fun to look down at me and make up wild assumptions?"

"I have never looked down on you, Ryn. You know that."

"And stop calling me Ryn. You're not him." In Syryn's mind, there was only one Rowan who had saved him from a life of violence, and it wasn't this one. This Rowan may have had some memories of the past but he wasn't the one who had decided to imprison Syryn instead of killing him. It galled the alchemist that the lines were blurring between the two.

The taller man took in Syryn's harsh words without a change in his expression. He bowed his head towards his shorter companion and asked, "who do you think I am, Syryn? Am I a fake copy of the one you keep inside here?" His long forefinger tapped gently on the teen's forehead. "Or is it here that you keep the other Rowan?" And now the anti mage splayed his fingers over Syryn's chest where his heart was thudding. The blond had come too close to the truth about Syryn's feelings and it scared the teen.

"You're not a fake copy of him. You're your own self, unique in the way that he can't be," Syryn answered.

"But you think he's better than me, don't you?"

It was true. "It doesn't matter." Syryn was now more upset than ever.

"By your logic, aren't you just a copy of the Syryn from the past?"

It made him stop to think about the double standard he had imposed upon the anti mage. Rowan was right but it didn't make sense. He was that same Syryn, wasn't he?

"Time may have flown backwards but our consciousness kept moving forward. I am Rowan just as much as you are Syryn."

"But you'll never be him till you remember everything," Syryn replied. They were now making progress. Confusion had given way to clarity about what differentiated the two Rowans.

"So what am I then?" The anti mage asked.

Syryn's answer was more certain than he had been many minutes ago. "You are the same Rowan but you're missing pieces of yourself." And as he said it, the realisation sank to the bottom of his consciousness.

His understanding changed the entire way that Syryn saw Rowan. He had expected the anti mage to remember things from their past, memories that were supposed to remind him of what had happened once upon a time ago. Now he saw them as the same person. The world had flipped on its axis. Syryn stared up at the blue eyes that belonged to the man that had imprisoned him in the Frozen Tower.

"Ro?" He called out tentatively. The word was hot as coal on his tongue. Syryn waited for the feeling of betrayal but it never came.

"Yes," Rowan smiled at Syryn, gaze fixed on the younger man like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. "I'm sorry, Ryn, it took me so long to remember. But now I do, I remember everything." It was a soft murmur of words that ripped the air out of Syryn's chest.

Warm hands cupped his face and a callused thumb wiped away something wet on Syryn's cheek.

"Asshole," Syryn's fingers balled themselves into tight grips on Rowan's tunic. His voice was shaky from the effects of the cocktail of so many overwhelming emotions that were sending him contradicting signals. "Look at how long you made me wait."

"Forgive me, Ryn."

"There's nothing to forgive," he replied, unsure of why Rowan looked sad. He thought it might have had something to do with Syryn's death, a tragedy that the anti mage had witnessed to its end.

"How much do you remember of our past?" Rowan asked.

"Everything, till the end."

"The stone chamber?"

"Yes," that was how he had died. In hindsight, Syryn thought it a wonderful way to die. It was on his own terms and for a noble reason. He couldn't deny that Rowan's presence during his ritual suicide had been a comforting presence. It was selfish of him to think so but Syryn wouldn't have had it another way.

"Alright," the anti mage answered. "We have much to discuss, Ryn. Come stay at my home tonight."

Still a little dazed from the fact that he was talking to his old friend in the flesh and blood, Syryn remained quiet as he followed Rowan back to the anti mage's carriage. How was Syryn supposed to pretend everything was normal when they existed in a reality where he had said to Rowan that they should fuck.

"Oh Eos, what have I done? Spare me, goddess!" Syryn frightfully muttered under his breath. On that fateful day at Winter Fortress, he hadn't been afraid to defile Rowan's lips because the boy still had yet to complete the ceremony that bound him to Eos. With this new revelation, didn't it mean that Rowan was already Eos' champion? And what about Rowan's feelings? He had kissed Syryn. He had felt something for Syryn. Had it changed now?

"Rowan, if you're the man from the past then you are also still Lillith's husband," he coolly informed the anti mage.

"I am not," Rowan answered without emotion. "The marriage ceremony to her wasn't just a ritualistic display in front of an altar. It was a vow from me to love and honour her till death parted us." Rowan slipped his hand down Syryn's and he slowly interlaced their fingers. "And death did do us part."

The mage looked at their hands, one small, one larger, clasped together as if the temporary contact could overturn the disasters that were approaching them. Did Rowan think that the world could be saved by his power alone? Syryn could not give to the anti mage what he had received from Lillith.

Rowan was aware of the thoughts that were fomenting in the mage's mind. He lowered his head and cupped Syryn's cheek with his free hand, forcing the teen to look at him.

"Now that I'm here, I expect you to put away the little games you've been playing with other men, Ryn." Rowan's smile was gentle but something dangerous lurked behind it.

"And what makes you so confident that I care about you enough to listen?" Syryn had always been a contrary creature even against that which was for his own good.

Rowan's answer was cryptic. "It's your turn to remember. Remember the promise I made to you, Ryn. Then we'll talk about this again."