Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“NO!” Jarett had been yelling before and during transport, and his cry of despair echoed as he materialized inside the imperial apartments with Tuwife’s dead body. “Send me back!” he roared. “Send me back!” Jarett was frenzied, leaping on the first servant he saw, demanding one of the imperial magicians be summoned immediately to Teleport him back to Thar Amphala. 

*

J’mon Sa Ord could feel everything in their territory, and they knew the taste of their mate’s magic. When the Teleport spell completed and Jarett’s panicked shouts began to echo through the palace, the Soul left the council chamber and sprinted down marble halls to see for themself. The brass dragon’s long, humanoid legs ate up the distance, their ebony tresses streaming out behind them. They entered the chamber at a dead run, skidding to a halt in a most un-ceremonious way. 

The emperor was more shocked than they would have expected to find General Tuwife’s lifeless body on the parlor floor. They had expected that some of the party would die, but not the Nkosi paladin. None of the other seven had made it back? None? “Where is he?” they asked their mate’s pet human. 

“He sent us back,” Jarett wailed, pulling his hair. “He struck a bargain with the lich and stayed behind to save us.”  

J’mon looked like they might strike him dead on the spot. “How could you let this happen?!” 

“Send me back!” the human begged. “I would gladly trade my life for his.” 

The emperor picked Jarett up by his armor and shook him. “Send you back where? The Shadowfell?”

But Jarett could give no coherent answers. In the end, he had to be magically and herbally sedated. “Call the clerics,” J’mon snapped. “If this one cannot give answers, we will get them from the general’s corpse.”

The brass dragon had known this would happen. They should never have let their mate go on this suicide mission. J’mon clenched their fists, growling: “I will not allow this. If anything happens to him, I will destroy the lich myself!” And where was that thrice-damned warlock? They had better be dead. “Gather the soothsayers and the magicians! This will not stand!” 

*

The healers were still attending to Jarett’s wounds and cleaning him up when Opesa entered the healing ward. He was afraid to even look at her. Having let down Gilt D’amour’s mother was far worse than letting down the emperor, whom Jarett felt he owed little. 

“We heard you were back,” she said softly, walking over to him and kissing Jarett on both cheeks. “I am glad to see you well, but where is my son?” 

Jarett was a grown man and a fighter, not known for emotional displays. But he was not humiliated when the tears came in reply to her question. Every horrible feeling in the world filled Jarett’s chest. He had seen the look in his lover’s eyes. Zaahir Kadin had made up his mind to perish in exchange for Jarett’s life. It was the worst possible outcome.  

Opesa grew very quiet. “He is dead?” 

“I pray to god he is not,” Jarett said. “But he stayed behind so that the lich would spare me.”

Her face was grim. “That sounds like my son.” 

“I didn’t want to,” Jarett said. “But it all happened so fast…”

Opesa put a hand on his shoulder. “This is not your fault.” She nearly collapsed on the bench beside him, and more healers came forward to attend to her. 

*

The seers were unable to locate either the cursed city of Thar Amphala or the first consort. It was as if he’d simply disappeared. The rest of the party, however, was shortly located in Avernus. A Gate was opened to bring the four adventurers back home. 

“You and I are going to have a very long talk,” J’mon told Talhar. 

“Your Radiance,” the warlock stammered in the face of the brass dragon’s ire. “It was a no-win scenario. I saved those I could–”

“You left the first consort behind!” the emperor bellowed. “All that returned were the thief and my council member’s dead body!” 

Yashika dropped to her knees and began to pray. Ruqaiya begged for the emperor’s forgiveness. And Najat disappeared in a desert wind. 

“Find him!” the Soul roared. “Find him, and maybe I won’t have you all executed!” 

“The city is no longer in the Shadowfell,” Talhar blurted out, tripping over their words. “The lich plane-shifted Thar Amphala itself to the prime material.” 

“Where?” J’mon asked. 

“I…do not know, Your Majesty. But it was cold, and snowing.” 

That narrowed things down somewhat. But not enough. “Assist the royal magicians. I need to have a word with the priests of Bahamut.” This was His fault. Their mate would not have gone if that old fool hadn’t ordered him to. The platinum dragon needed to fix this.

*

They had resolved not to tell the children, but Opesa could not hide such a thing from her husband. When she and Jarett had recovered enough, the two Geddmores spoke in private while he watched the children at play. 

“What wrong, Unk J’arett?” Inanna asked, when she saw him sitting on the bench, watching them. 

“It is nothing,” Jarett told her, scooping the toddler into his lap. “I am just a little sore from fighting…yesterday.” 

“I make it better,” Inanna said, pressing her cheek to his chest and clutching him with her chubby arms. Jarett rubbed her back, trying to hold it together. 

Of course, there was no hiding it from the aasimar. Hunin had been ordered on bed rest when he’d arrived back before the other members of the party, and Kyor stayed by his side, listening to the story of what had happened and keeping his brother awake asking questions. 

Jarett went to see them after Opesa had told her husband and returned to watch over the little ones while Soren dealt with his feelings in private where the whelps would not see. Jarett hugged her before leaving to speak with the boys. 

When he entered Kyor’s and Hunin’s chambers, both boys turned and looked at him. “You’re back!” Kyor said, standing up, excitedly. All three dogs stood up to greet Jarett. 

“So good to have you back safely, sir!” Reginald said. Carl and Martha approached, tails wagging, and Jarett petted them half-heartedly. 

“What is it?” Hunin asked, sitting up a little too fast and wincing. 

“We failed.”

“I saw what the lich did to Najat. And she had no sword when she returned…” 

“No,” Jarett said. “I have not fully questioned her about that yet.” 

“Where’s Uncle?” Kyor asked, getting a sinking feeling.

“I was taken by a vampire. The the lich began targeting our healers. It was only a matter of time…” It was hard to say, and Jarett had to finish through clenched teeth. “So he sent us away.” 

“He didn’t come,” Hunin said, realizing. “He traded his life for yours.”

“I think so,” Jarett said, hanging his head. Reginald whimpered. 

The boys were quiet for a moment. The aasimar were no strangers to loss. “Do the babies know?” Kyor asked. Wrapped around his neck, Lockheed snaked its head forward to drink a hot tear that rolled down its boy’s cheek. 

“No,” Jarett said. “They can’t know. Not yet. The emperor is going to try to get him back.” 

“From the lich?” Hunin asked. “It will be difficult, if he made a bargain.” The aasimar were no strangers to being on the bad side of a bargain, either. 

“I do not know what to do,” Jarett said, growing quiet and sinking to the low cushioned chair. “I fear I cannot live without him. And to lose him like this…” 

“There has to be something we can do!” Kyor said, getting more and more red in the face. 

*

The imperial procession made its way to the temple of Bahamut, where the emperor threatened and brow-beat the clerics until they got in enough words edgewise to share that they had received word from the Platinum Sanctuary in Vasselheim. Raven’s Crest had informed all other temples in the city that the archlich had moved Thar Amphala to Issylra, from whence he intended to launch an attack on Vasselheim. 

“Issylra,” J’mon said. “Ready an airship!” The brass dragon was going to find the hidden city if they had to fly scouting missions themself. Now that they knew approximately where the lich was, maybe there was still time to save their reckless and self-sacrificing mate.  

But the airship would take too long. Those who were ready assist with the Sanctuary’s scouting missions--including the emperor themself--were to be Teleported immediately to Vasselheim. The emperor gave orders for the seers to keep trying to find the first consort or Thar Amphala, and all other casters who were capable of flight to prepare to be on the airship by dawn.  

Before J’mon left, they found the two eldest children to give instructions. They were surprised to find their mate’s lover there. All eyes were suddenly on the Soul, as if they had interrupted something. The useless dogs who could not speak and had no manners yelped and scrambled to hide their considerable bulk underneath the bed. The well-behaved one just watched the emperor as the humanoids were doing. 

“I am leaving to assist the wyvern riders of Vasselheim in searching for the unholy city.” 

The human had the audacity to stand up. “I will also assist with this.”

“Me, too,” the elder aasimar said, pretending not to be in pain as he attempted to rise. 

“No. I forbid it,” J’mon said. “He would never forgive me for letting you put yourselves in danger for him a second time.” They looked at Hunin. “You should never have gone along on the first dangerous mission.” And to Jarett, the emperor said: “Someone must survive to take care of these younglings.”

Jarett found it hard to argue with that, but he tried to anyway. “Your Majesty–”

But the Soul cut him off with a gesture. “I am not the caring parental presence he would want for them,” J’mon said. “You do it. I will get him back, but if I fail, you must be here for them.” They glanced at Hunin next. “You are the eldest. You should remain for the sake of your siblings.” 

Hunin liked this answer better than being told he never should have gone to Thar Amphala the first time. But not much. 

“I am no good to these children if His Highness does not return,” Jarett told the emperor. “We must get him back. We must!” 

“You would lecture me about the difficulty of going on without him?” the emperor asked, incensed. “I will return with him, or not at all.” And with that, they left, and were gone within the hour. 

“Now what?” Hunin asked. 

Jarett thought of the flying harness the Soul had given to Hunin for their mission. Being part of the search for Zaahir Kadin would give him something to do besides just feeling terrible. But what would Gilt D’amour want? His parents were elderly, and struggling with the loss of their son. Who would take care of the children if one of them collapsed? Who would protect the little ones if the lich came here to the palace while the emperor was away? 

He knew what his beloved would want. The children were more important to Gilt D’amour than being rescued. He knew what he had to do, though it hurt his heart to stay put. Jarett took a deep breath. “Now we pray.”

Chapter Text

J’mon Sa Ord demanded to know the progress of the search as soon as they and their winged scouts arrived at the Platinum Sanctuary. The scalebearers informed them that wyvern riders had been scouting the Vesper Timberlands around the city daily but had found no sign of the hidden city. “Show me the areas you have already eliminated,” J’mon said. This problem called for precise, mathematical thinking. 

*

When the three void dragons reached the outer wall of the city, Murder hesitated, perching on a crumbling ledge. It’s too far, the young gloomstalker complained.

This will be much trouble, Scream agreed.  

Then I will go, Clawed said. It was curious about this bright new world, and what tastes could be found in it. There might come a time when they would have to leave the city to survive, and scouting out new dark places would help them.

I, too, will go, Scream said.

Why? Murder asked. 

One day, you may be wise, Clawed told it. But now you are not. 

Murder was silent, heeding the voice of their elder pack member. The two older void dragons continued, Clawed guessing the packmates of the gold dragon would be in the city the lich was planning to destroy first. 

But part way there, Scream hesitated. You do not need to accompany me toward the light, Clawed told them. But if you are wise, you will scout the dark places between here and the tower, in case we need them one day. 

I will, Scream said. The two of them touched beaks and parted ways. 

*

It had been nearly three days since the party had returned from Thar Amphala without the brass dragon’s mate. No amount of worship or prayer in the Platinum Sanctuary had gotten them closer to finding where the emperor’s Heart was. And none of it had given them comfort. 

Knowing that Vasselheim would be Vance of Rotthold’s first target, the city had been preparing for the worst. Without being able to find Thar Amphala, the holy council could foresee no way to stop the archlich’s ritual of ascension. So they did all they could, anticipating that Vasselheim would soon be besieged by a newly ascended god. 

It was as though they had given up. J’mon could not give up. Because they had been warned what would happen if the gold dragon fell into the lich’s clutches. And waiting for fate to take its course was not an option. 

After two days, the airship had arrived with reinforcements. Devo’ssa and their cadre had been flying out with the Vasselheim wyvern patrols each morning, flying further and further from the city each day, not knowing which direction to pursue, in spite of all the prayer and preparation. 

Not one for relying on prayer or magic, Devo’ssa had brought their own tools to map and eliminate the areas that had been explored. They were also making use of a farseeing device they had invented, that allowed even their vision to stretch for many miles beyond what dragon sight could. 

The growing sense of dread in the city mirrored the perceived rise in the lich’s power. And as Vance gained strength, search patrols had gotten longer and longer, and gone farther afield to seek out the hidden city. Morning patrols were now day-long patrols that spanned the strength and wind of the wyverns’ abilities. Some scouts even camped without going back to the city to extend the distance they could cover. 

Devo’ssa, sensing the worst was at hand, had not ceased their patrol since the previous morning. It was now late into the night, and the tension in the air was palpable. The aura of evil was clearly strongest to the northwest. And that was where the brass dragon flew. 

With a few adjustments, their farseeing device worked better in darkness than daylight. And when they perched on a low peak at the edge of the Zenwick Mountains to have another look around, this time, the device illuminated something in the distance. Something ethereal, flying on smokey black wings. The brass dragon launched themselves into the air and sped to intercept it. 

*

Clawed was strong, but the corpse was heavy. They had flown far. Much further, and they would not be able to return to the darkness before the sun rose. And then, in the distance, their eyebeams caught something shiny. Something bright. With wings and talons, and ferocity that called to like. Instinctively, they tucked the body further up against their body, partially obscuring it with their smoky tendrils. 

*

A void dragon. It had been many decades since Devo’ssa had encountered one. The emperor tended not to travel out of the city, and creatures of the Shadowfell were rarely smuggled into Ank’Harel. In spite of its alignment and nature, a dragon was a dragon. Whatever this tiny one was doing so far from its home, it definitely belonged to the archlich. Which meant Thar Amphala must be close. Or it came bearing a message from its master. 

What news, sibling? Devo’ssa called out when the gloomstalker was within mindspeech range. 

Do no harm, the smaller creature called back, suspiciously. I bring one who does not belong in the dark city.  

Do you have him? Devo’ssa asked, scenting the air between them as they flew closer. You will have my undying gratitude if you have saved my mate from your master . 

It is too late , Clawed said. The god has risen. But we saved what we could.

Devo’ssa was knocked breathless by this statement. There were images that came with it. Violent, desperate images that took the fire out of their gullet. What did you save? they asked.  

It was only then the brass dragon saw the limp body clutched tightly against the void dragon’s misty form. Devo’ssa’s roar of despair could be heard for miles, and the gloomstalker pulled back, rightfully distraught at the ancient dragon’s fury. 

Do no harm, it said again. I have risked much to return him.

Just barely, Devo’ssa held their fire, reaching desperately for the body of their beloved. The void dragon flew to the ground, unwilling to approach further, and set down its precious burden before leaping back, prepared to flee. 

No. No. No… Molten tears the size of an orc’s fists dripped from the ancient dragon’s eyes. They scooped up the body and cradled it against them. Fiends! Devo’ssa screamed. They will pay for this! But the oath was less threatening through sobs. 

The void dragon bowed and took wing to return to the darkness before it was caught by the dim winter sunrise. Little sibling, what is your name? The brass dragon asked. I would thank you for this small kindness.

I am Clawed Terror, it said, after a brief hesitation. 

Clawed Terror, Devo’ssa said. When I destroy Vance and his unholy city, you will be spared. 

I will hold this promise if that day comes to pass. 

It will. 

The void dragon sped back toward the city, hurrying before the sun, which was rising at its back. And the brass dragon turned their attention back to their dead and mangled mate. 

Soulmate, this world is grown dark without you. Come back to us. 

Devo’ssa reached into their alchemist’s pouch and produced a large diamond. Ignoring everything else–the snow melting beneath their body, the cold, the dark clouds slowly filling the sky to drown out the sunrise–the brass dragon focused all of their energy for one hour, casting Raise Dead without hesitation or irony, considering how they had judged their mate for using it on the whelps not a year ago. 

*

After days of torture, Gilmore’s death had been anticlimactic. When Delilah had cut his throat with that awful glass dagger and Vance had plunged a darkblade into his heart, Gilmore had stayed, hovering, over his own body. Around him, the city had disappeared. All that he could see was a muddy darkness, with the cries of a million lost souls in the distance. 

But he wasn’t ready to leave. And no divine voice was calling him. Even the porcelain-masked Raven Queen made no appearance. A pinch of pain--which he would not have thought he could feel now he was dead--and Gilmore was surrounded by whirling tendrils of inky darkness, moving somewhere. 

He slept--or ceased to exist--for a brief time. The inertia of travel in the dark void made Gilmore sleepy, and his consciousness dimmed. He didn’t know how long he was nothing. But a bright light behind his eyes called him back, and he became aware of something familiar close by, outside the void. 

Then he was scooped up in pearlescent claws and held fast in a familiar brass-scaled paw. Already, Gilmore was beginning to forget himself. It was the emotion that he remembered more than names or events. 

He held tight to the feeling of familiarity and being loved. Time had no meaning, but Gilmore stayed with the familiar presence as long as he could, a soft light steadily growing around him.

Finally, his remaining eye opened wide, and he gasped, Gilmore’s body convulsing as breath returned to his lungs. He turned his head, coughing blood into the snow. 

I cannot bear what they have done to you, his mate said. 

“We must warn the others,” Gilmore said, as soon as there was breath in his lungs. “He’s completed the ritual. He’ll come for all of us now.” 

We will return home, then, to defend our own. 

“But Vasselheim. The Platinum Sanctuary--”

Can wait until you are safe and fully healed. Devo’ssa sent an emergency Message for one of the royal magicians to open a Gate for them to return to Marquet. 

“I think this is my fault,” Gilmore said, beginning to remember. 

It is not, Devo’ssa said firmly. You have suffered enough without this falsehood Vance has implanted in you. The Gate opened, and the brass dragon carried Gilmore through. 

“The children?” he asked. “What of the children?” 

We will get all of you to safety, Devo’ssa promised. And then I will rejoin the council in Vasselheim. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Gilmore said, trying to grip the brass dragon’s claw and finding it difficult with part of each finger missing. 

Once you are safe, I will take my revenge, they said. This cannot stand.

Chapter Text

“Something has happened. I can feel it,” Opesa said, holding tight to her husband. 

“Is it necessarily something bad?” Soren asked, willing the glass to be half full. 

“Where is our son?” she asked again, resting her cheek against his shoulder. 

Unable to give a comforting answer, Soren just held her.

*

Jarett was in the courtyard below the harem, watching his children play ball with the other royal children. He had volunteered to give Zaahir Kadin’s parents time to be alone and take comfort in one another. Jarett himself was carefully numb, aware of the jagged edges of anxiety and grief inside him, but keeping them at bay for the children’s sake. Every time they asked him where baba was, it was a new knife in Jarett’s heart. 

In moments of quiet like this, he would reach out for that familiar presence. But he could not find it. 

“J’arett effendi,” one of the gardeners approached, looking away, as if they were working on some other task. “The emperor has returned from Vasselheim.”

Jarett leapt to his feet before he’d consciously decided to do so. “What news?” 

“They have called all of the healers and all of the magicians to them, and retired to the imperial apartments.” 

What could that mean? Jarett wanted to go and see for himself if Gilt D’amour was returned, but the children--he couldn’t leave them. So Jarett sat back down on the planter, his body humming with a faint hope. Little by little, the tension began to bleed out of him, but Jarett needed to see it for himself before he could believe.

*

“He is returned,” J’mon Sa Ord told the gathered clerics. “But he needs much healing.” The emperor paused. “There are parts missing. Fix it.” 

Gilmore couldn’t help a lopsided smile. How like his mate it was to speak of him like one of their broken automatons. But being examined by so many healers at once was less charming. And Gilmore didn’t care about any of this right now. He wanted to see his children. “Where’s J’arett?” 

Stormclouds moved over the emperor’s countenance. I have spent the last 72 hours scouring Issylra for you. I take your remains from one of the lich’s servants, return you to the living and bring you home, and your first words here are to ask for your mortal lover?

Gilmore gripped their hand. “The children. It’s not safe.” 

J’mon relented, nodding. “We must get all of you to safety. The lich’s powers are as yet unshown, but it is best not to underestimate him.” They took Gilmore’s hand, hesitating. “My Heart…do you think it would upset them to see you like this?” 

Gilmore was still in shock, and he wasn’t thinking clearly. Of course it would frighten the children to see him like this. An Alter Self spell was called for. But dying wasn’t the same as taking a long rest. Gilmore was out of magic. 

He was forced to rest while the healers crafted special gloves and shoes for him. While he did so, Gilmore pondered what sort of eyepatch would look best. The missing teeth…he could do little about that just now. Fortunately, they would be the easiest bits of him to replace or grow back, given the right spells and time. 

While Gilmore pondered, J’mon went and found a jeweled eyepatch in their hoard. It wasn’t just lovely to look at, it could also hold a spell. Gilmore examined it while the emperor argued with the royal magicians about which spell would be the most valuable to him in an emergency. 

“It can only hold a third level spell,” Gilmore cut in. “Put in Blink. It’s saved me in the past.” He’d used it to hide Ardhanarishvara from Vox Machina in Thordak’s lair. If they linked hands, Gilmore was certain he could take the children with him when he cast the spell. 

“You are more experienced in the arcane arts than I,” Devo’ssa said. They nodded to the magicians, who did as Gilmore had suggested. 

While they waited, the brass dragon held onto their mate, but not so tightly that the healers couldn’t do their work. “What’s happened here?” Gilmore asked. “Is everyone safe?” 

“Now that you have returned, everyone is safe,” J’mon said. But they looked out the far window together to watch inky clouds creeping over the horizon. “I will tell the priests to light the fires in the temples. Encourage the city to go worship. These are dark times. We must keep the light going, and make everyone feel safe. Ank’Harel will yield no worshipers to Vance of Rotthold.” 

“No.” Gilmore said. “We need to give the people hope. We need to make them feel protected.” He could feel the fear rising all around them. “We should make a flight over the city, as a beacon for the people to look to.” 

“The longer you are here, the more danger; the more chance the lich will reach out to take you back,” J’mon said. “You go with the children to safety. I will fly over the city before I leave for the Platinum Sanctuary. Do not fear. I will settle things here in Ank’Harel before I leave again.” 

Gilmore nodded. He hated to be made to feel so vulnerable. But after what he had just been through, his courage had faltered. He still needed to come back to himself. It would take time. “Alright.” He kissed J’mon. “But promise you will come back to me.” 

“My Heart, I will always come back to you.”

Finally, the gloves and shoes were finished, along with the eyepatch. Gilmore donned them and one of the royal magicians cast Seeming on him so that, to the casual observer, he looked as he had before. Then J’mon led him to the nursery wing.

When they passed through the doors, there was a scream, and his mother came running down the hall toward them, throwing her skinny arms around her son. “I am sorry, umma.” Gilmore rubbed her back. “I’m sorry to have scared you.” 

They went to the nursery, where all five of the whelps’ heads turned as the door was opened. “Hello, my darlings.” Gilmore felt overwhelmed, seeing them again. They were everything he had tried his best to forget he was losing. Ardhanarishvara ran over to be hugged, and when Gilmore knelt down, all of the children came close to hug him and be petted. 

“You smell funny,” Galatura said.

“Baba, what happened to your eye?” Inanna asked, pushing one chubby finger through the Seeming to touch his eyepatch. Of course the whelps’ truesight would be able to see through the spell. 

Gilmore gently caught her little hand and held it. There was no reason to disturb the humans in the room by making it look like Inanna was poking her finger into his eye. “It’s a long story, my love.”

“Tell us the story,” Kurjara said. 

Ereshkigal was quiet, but sat down, somber, in Gilmore’s lap to be hugged. He stroked her braids and looked around at the others. “We’re all going for a little trip together this time. Gather your things; whatever you’d like to take along.” 

“Where are we going?” Ardhanarishvara wanted to know. 

“Somewhere very special. You haven’t been there since before you were hatched.” 

“I’m excited!” Inanna shouted, running to her toy chest to pick a doll. 

“Come along.” Gilmore encouraged the others, who were reluctant to leave his side. “Pack up. Quickly now. Zawj al’abb will go get your older brothers.” Gilmore looked up at J’mon, nodding. 

The emperor was not about to leave his side, and sent some of the servants to get the aasimar. When they turned away, Gilmore looked up to find Jarett standing in the far doorway, just watching him. Gilmore wanted to go to him, but not in front of his mate. The display would undoubtedly trigger the emperor’s insecurity. Thank you, Gilmore whispered into his earring. For taking care of my babies.

But Jarett did not respond. His eyes held longing and relief, but he said nothing, just kept staring. 

When Kyor and Hunin entered the room, the younger aasimar burst into tears and ran to him, throwing his arms around Gilmore. Lockheed unwound from Kyor’s neck and crawled into Gilmore’s hair, purring. 

“You’re alive,” Hunin said. Gilmore put a finger to his lips in a plea for him not to say any more in front of the whelps. Hunin nodded. 

“So good to have you back, Your Highness!” Reginald said, giving the other two mastiffs a meaning look until they sat obediently. 

“Are you coming?” Gilmore asked J’mon. 

“Loathe as I am to leave your side,” the brass dragon said. “I am needed in the Platinum Sanctuary. And I have a lich to slay.” 

“Be careful,” Gilmore told them, standing up to take J’mon’s hands in his. 

“I owe the whispered one much,” the Soul said. “He will not be undying for long.” Gilmore pulled J’mon close and kissed them, passionately. 

There was a fire in J’mon’s eyes which almost went a different direction. But then the Soul looked down at their children, all waiting to take a trip. “I will check in with you frequently.”

“Please do,” Gilmore said, squeezing their hands, reluctant to let go. The emperor saw them to the Teleportation circle, along with Gilmore’s handmaids, a regiment of the Hand, several healers, and two of the royal magicians. Gilmore gathered his brood, waited for his parents to join them, and then looked to Jarett. 

He looked uncertain if he should go, but with a nod from Gilmore--J’mon was carefully not looking at Jarett--he rushed to join them. 

“Vance should not be able to reach you there,” the Soul said. “It is the safest place, while we deal with him on this plane.” 

Gilmore nodded. “Please be safe.” 

“Now that I know that you are safe, I can do what is necessary.” 

“But safely,” Gilmore repeated. “Ank’Harel needs you to come back in one piece. And so do I.” J’mon grabbed him for one last desperate kiss before letting go and stepping back. 

“Send them,” they ordered the royal casters, who triggered the circle, teleporting the royal family to Gilmore’s lair.