Chapter Text
Some few days later, their circumstances were much changed. Rather than the dour, twisted remnants of the Deeper Dark, Steven now found himself on one of the sprawling lawns of the University, surrounded by extraordinarily elaborate lanterns that illuminated the ground without detracting from the beauty of the night sky above. He was standing near to the edge of a crowded square where students and professors alike danced with barely-present decorum to strange but not unpleasant tunes produced by a small band.
He knew no one here, and none of them knew him.
Almost no one, that was. Anthony popped up at his elbow, a glass of punch in hand – punch that Steven knew had been liberally doctored; he’d taken one sip and nearly choked from the potency of it. “You’re being quite the wallflower,” the wizard observed.
“Enjoying the quiet while I have it,” Steven said. It was something of a truth. He looked out over the dancers again. “It seems... days ago, I was at war. But they don’t even know how much danger they were in – they thought you four were just down there for the adventure of it.”
“Their professors have a better idea,” said Anthony more seriously, and he jostled Steven’s arm, nodding in the direction of a clique of older men and women standing and talking. They all appeared significantly drunker than their younger counterparts. “Which means it will be all over the University sooner or later... this place is a sieve. The only reason it hasn’t been news already is that everyone’s been paying more attention to Thor, and he’s been circumspect enough to stay mum about how truly near to disaster we came.”
“You can’t hide the danger from people, Anthony,” said Steven.
Anthony grimaced. “No.” Hesitation, then – “Will you walk with me?”
It was easy enough to retreat away from the field without being called back; in the bright mess of lights and laughter, everyone was so much more concerned with themselves. Steven let Anthony lead; the streets of New York were yet largely unknown to him, although they carried with them a sense of familiarity that made his heart ache. They walked in silence for a while, along paths lit occasionally by mage-lights, but mostly only by the stars above; it was clear night. Music floated after them.
Unfamiliarity aside, it didn’t take long for Steven to determine where Anthony was going. The walls about the city were some thirty feet high and had stairs upward only occasionally, but Anthony led him to one such set of stairs with an absentmindedness that indicated a more than passing acquaintance, and then they were looking out over the edge: an ocean of stars above – and Steven was now the only human in the world who had ever seen an ocean with his own eyes – and the black below.
“I’m reporting to the University Council tomorrow,” said Anthony abruptly, not looking at Steven. His hands were clenched on the parapet. “It’s time for House Stark’s secrets to come into the light.”
“Long past,” agreed Steven. He reached out and covered Anthony’s hand with his own. “But that wasn’t your fault.”
“Perhaps not,” said Anthony. He turned his head only slightly; Steven could barely see the other man’s eyes. “The question remains – shall I tell them of your return, as well?”
Steven considered. “I’ve been enjoying the respite,” he admitted. But that was unfair. In the days to come, Anthony would need his support – the entire city would need his support. The lost art of the Paladins needed to rise again, if they were ever to break free of Howard’s legacy. “I have. But... I swore to serve; I cannot abandon that cause for my own comfort.”
Anthony nodded. “I expected as much.” He paused. “...you’ll have many options, of course, when you become known. If you feel inclined to accept the hospitality of another... I would not be offended in any way.”
Steven turned to face him fully. “Anthony.” He waited until the wizard looked at him properly – no more side-long glances. “If you wish me to leave, to take residence elsewhere, I shall. But I would be honoured to stay. More than.”
“What we had down there... was between comrades; friends under fire,” said Anthony, looking down as Steven stroked his thumb over the back of Anthony’s hand.
“True; but there have been worse things to base a courtship upon.”
“I’m not going to live very long. Oh, I have years left... but not decades.”
It hung in the air between them; a declaration both had avoided until now. Steven had already seen it for himself. The hair at Anthony’s temples was beginning to grow in white, as was his carefully trimmed beard, and he looked too tired for his age. Gently, Steven pressed his other hand to Anthony’s chest, just over the Dweomer-stone embedded there.
“Perhaps I shan’t either,” he said, although he doubted it. He felt nowhere near as aged as Anthony seemed to, these days. But that did not change his decision. “Whichever way it goes... I’d like to try.”
Anthony smiled at him, a little sadly, and squeezed his hand in return. “I really ought to deny you; but on this eve the thought of waking next to you is... far too tempting.”
“Then stay,” said Steven, and kissed him, slow and sweet.
It was not like their first kiss, full of grim desperation and, Steven had been fervently hoping, a conveyance of forgiveness – forgiveness that was not at all his to give, but which Anthony had badly needed at the time. This kiss was unhurried; the skies were above them and the Dark far below, and if he fell over the edge, Anthony could catch him in his spells. When they broke apart it was leisurely. At one point in the War Steven might have then suggested that they retire to a more private venue; but now there was no urgency, and so they wrapped their arms around each other and went back to gazing out over the starry horizon.
Sometime later, footsteps on the wall saw them both straightening, and then relaxing again as they saw who it was – Janet and Henry, looking somewhat inebriated. Henry’s cravat had escaped him rather entirely, Janet’s carefully ornamented hair was mussed, and both were flushed – whether from the climb up to the wall or from the punch, it was difficult to say. The pair joined them, and Janet extinguished the light she’d been using to see the way.
“I’d have thought you would’ve had enough of the Dark,” said Henry, glancing down with a shudder. Beneath the cool light of the stars, the shocking edge of white hair he now bore stood out starkly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Anthony carelessly. “Depending on how tomorrow goes... who knows. Perhaps I shall be down there regularly, to open up trade relations.”
“The stonegnomes are fine leatherworkers,” said Janet; there was an avid gleam to her eyes. “And I still intend to learn how they work both leather and stone. Our Houses should partner on this.”
He glanced at her, startled. Any partnership with House Stark now would be impolitic in the extreme – but the warmth in her smile told him she didn’t particularly care.
“You’re doing the right thing, Anthony,” she said. “So damn the other Houses if they don’t support you in it.”
Henry nodded. “We need the Dweomer for now. But making it difficult to move forward...” he shrugged. “There’s no logic in that.”
There was a rush of air, and Thor dropped out of the sky to land in a crouch. Light was yet fading from his eyes and hair as he stood, but after a few seconds they were again surrounded by the comfortably starlit night. “I hope I do not intrude,” he said as he stood.
“Not at all,” Steven said courteously. “The crowds of this modern era are perhaps a bit loud for my tastes, but a gathering of friends...” He squeezed Anthony’s hand and smiled at them all.
This was met with a broad grin from Thor. “Aye. Friends, comrades – who better to stand and celebrate with?” From somewhere within the folds of his cape he produced a flask topped with gold; when he uncorked it, the scent of fresh honey wafted out. With a gentlemanly air, he offered it to Janet first.
She giggled, then, and took a hefty swig, her eyes widening at the smoothness of it. “That is – I should say that is a very dangerous drink, Thor,” she laughed, passing the flask on to Henry for a try. “But if we’re going to form a society club, then we shall need a name.”
“A society club?” Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“Good heavens, what is in this?” muttered Henry, coughing slightly as he lowered the flask. Thor winked; Henry rolled his eyes and passed the flask to Steven, who, like Janet, drank easily.
“A team to investigate wonders – and perhaps save the world,” he mused, as he passed it to Anthony.
“Change is upon us – upon all of Midgard,” said Thor gravely. “But we shall be ready to meet it.”
“Then let us be the Avengers Society,” proclaimed Janet.
“The Avengers, eh?” Anthony asked, amused, as he took his drink and passed the flask back to Thor.
“We’ve already had vengeance,” said Steven, casting his gaze back over the parapet. “As much as can be had.”
“Nay,” said Thor, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “That was not vengeance. That was long-awaited justice.”
“But such a name shall surely make all of Society sit up and take note,” said Janet smugly.
Anthony laughed, looking around at them all: the legendary Last Paladin, a warrior of Light from a race of gods, the head of the most powerful House in New York, the Transfiguration Seat of the University, and the soon-to-be-disgraced High Wizard. “I don’t see how we can avoid doing so. Very well, then. Let us be Avengers!”