The hangar-bay door next to the waterfall opened, and Regulus’ mech flew through to land, with Aamin still in-hand. It was dawn by then, and though the journey was as gentle as it could’ve possibly been, it was still quite hard on that exiled Prince, and he shivered terribly when that clawed hand let him go. Medics were already on stand-by though, and he was allowed to lay down on a hovering gurney. His injuries and presumed-hypothermia were already being evaluated, and the four-armed metallic beast that brought him there floated away quietly to enter into its docking-stall. Regulus pushed open the hatch above himself and climbed out, jumping down to the floor instead of taking the offered ladder.

Aamin trembled from the cold, pale as snow, “Y-you…could have…b-brought me s-s-s-somewhere else…f-first…”

“You aren’t yet welcome anywhere else. Be grateful for what you’ve been given.” The Magistrate answered, “This facility has everything you need for your treatment. Burns, cold, starvation…whatever you’ve endured. We don’t scorn you, but we need to know what kind of a liability you are to us before we reveal our hand.” He turned to the medics and nodded, and they started to pull the Prince away. Aamin had no energy to respond, and vanished into those underground halls without another word. Regulus stepped away and lifted a hand to press the curved earpiece on his right side, “I have him. When appropriate, relay to the Duchess that he’s secured and beginning recovery. Everyone in the facility understands this is a top-level security situation and they are bound to keep their mouths shut, but make sure to remind them. I’m going to bed.”

.

Flying high above the clouds, cones of air deflected around the two Fafnir as they made their way far to the northeast. Below them had passed the northern half of Sargon, the western coastal edge of neighboring Mayrain, and the southwestern sliver of New Uppsala. The waters below them were the Bay of Breidablik, and far ahead, coming into sight on the horizon, were the shores of a large, private property with a house on its rocky beach.

The sun was barely starting to rise that far east of Kitez, but rise it did, and Furion looked over to his beloved, “I’m sure at least my pops is up by now. He never was a late-sleeper.” He explained, “I haven’t called ahead though.”

“Let’s surprise them.”

“He loves surprises.”

Ren snorted a quiet laugh, “Exactly. Dropping out of hypersonic now.” She mused, and started to slow down. The cone of air ahead of her faded, and the waters below started to look like actual water rather than a blue streak. Furion slowed down as well, further ahead, and waited for her to catch up before getting back up to speed again. They both extended their wings to full-spread as the shoreline passed beneath them, and a half-minute later, they landed quietly at the house’s front door.

As a beach-front property sitting above some large rocks, the front half of it was suspended on silts, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the bay. The edges of a temperate forest dotted the edges of the main homestead’s borders, with short grass, more rocks, and a road that cut through it from the back. Ren pulled her helmet off, and her flight-suit skullcap down, and shook her head before running her fingers through her hair to shake it loose; Furion did the same beside her. Their wing-optics were cut, and the two approached the front door, and gave a simple ‘let’s not wake up mom’ sort of knock.

Ren stepped back and they waited. A full minute later – and nearly thinking she needed to knock again – the door finally opened, and a large man opened the door.

“Who the Hell is-“ Lequerion started, only to spot the two Fafnir in their full armor standing in front of him, “…Oh no.”

He was a half-inch taller than Furion, which meant he towered over Ren by nearly a foot, and he had to look down at her to see her there. He was aged, and a bit more wrinkly than Furion, but his hair was identical to that of his sons’ – his bangs were short like Seth’s, but that platinum-blonde color and upward-spikey contour at the back gave him away as definitely being their sire – and those eyes…those teal-green eyes. They were wide in disbelief as he beheld that petite woman on his doorstep, and without a word, he reached both arms over her shoulders to pull her into a worried hug.

“What are you two doing here? What happened?” He asked in a worried tone, “Furion, what’s going on?”

“It’s okay, dad, nothing is wrong. We’re on leave.” The Captain answered, and let himself be pulled into the hug as well, stepping into the man’s left shoulder, “For another ten days.”

Lequerion nodded with relief, “Whew…okay, gave me a damned heart attack for a second. How’d you get away with taking your armor on leave with you, though? For a split second I actually considered you might be on the run.”

“I just asked.”

He snorted a laugh and shook his head as he let his son go, “…Okay, fair enough. Lord Rylen is full of surprises.” He held Ren a little bit longer though, and with both arms around her shoulders and one hand to cradle the back of her head, he rocked her back and forth fondly, “Are you two married yet? Have we finally gotten the Rydell name on you?”

Ren blushed, but looked up those many inches, “No sir. Your son is still gainfully employed, so…”

“You two are killing us.” Lequerion sighed, “I should have guessed though when you appeared at my door in your Fafnir get-up. Did you get your job back?”

“Yessir.” She nodded, and reached up with her right hand to push some hair out of her eyes as she pulled out of the hug; Lequerion kept one arm over her shoulders though, resting it on the upward-idling mechanical limbs that gave her wings form, “Just recently, actually. I…I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh…yes, yes, please…” The older man gestured to the side of the house, and stepped out, pulling Ren beside him. A large metal door raised with a gesture, revealing a garage with two vehicles inside, and Lequerion pointed within, “You can dock here, then come inside. I’ll get something started for us to eat. You’re probably starving and exhausted if you flew here overnight. Just keep your voices down; you know your mother and sister like to sleep in.”

“Thanks, dad.” Furion said, and stepped around them to join Ren in the garage.

A few minutes later, the two found their way inside; the house was massive to behold already, but inside made it look even larger. Warmly-lit by the rising sun, those balcony windows dimmed in a calculated way to prevent anyone in those water-facing rooms from being blinded as it ascended from the horizon. Open-concept architecture allowed the eyes to see the entirety of the living-room, den, breakfast nook, kitchen, and dining room, and all its couches, tables, wall-mounted pictures, decorative bits and baubles, plants, and one snoozing cat to be easily seen.

Ren smiled at the familiar sight, but Furion quietly got her attention before she could linger too long. Lequerion was already in the kitchen assembling the things he intended to craft, and Ren followed her partner down a different hall, and into a guest-room. They had been there many times before, and the room was well-prepared for the next time they arrived, bearing clothing and shoes for any occasion.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Furion pushed the door closed and stepped up behind his beloved, hands gently on her shoulders where she’d started to peel away her flight-suit, “You don’t have to get straight to business if you’d rather go to sleep.”

“How can I go to bed when your dad is making breakfast for us?” She looked back over her right shoulder.

Furion just slid his arms forward and hugged her from behind, leaning down to kiss her neck, “Eat first, then sleep.”

“I’m fine for now…thank you, though.”

“Of course.”

When they were done and changed, they came back out, and Lequerion had food ready. The most comforting and traditional of home-cooked breakfasts was put on the counter for them, and a toaster on the back counter clicked.

Furion pulled a chair out for his partner and let Ren sit first before joining her, and looked at the over-easy eggs and bacon on offer, “Thanks, dad.”

Toast was being buttered, and Lequerion turned around, “Anytime, kid. How are you two anyway? You have to tell me every…thing…?” He suddenly saw the blue-gel band around Ren’s left upper arm, and nearly dropped the toast in his surprise, “…What…?”

Ren lifted her head, then looked at the band, and sighed, “…Sorry, I lost a fight.”

“You lost a fight.” He echoed, and came around the island to set the toast onto a smaller plate, then reached forward to set it in front of her, “How in the world did that happen?”

“…That’s why we came. It…was then-General-now-Magistrate Laurier.”

Those green eyes were still as calm waters, but Lequerion shook his head like he hadn’t heard right, “Come again?”

“It’s the second time he got me in just over a week,” She answered, “He…took my arm the first time.”

“In her defense, she only had the nanotech training-suit to work with, and from what we gleaned from Seth’s footage, he’s upgraded his war-machine quite a bit since he was last witnessed using it.” Furion explained, “They were at a stalemate the second time they fought, and Ren was only using her blades, too.”

Lequerion put two more slices of bread into the toaster before he came around the kitchen island, and approached on Ren’s left side. He reached forward to gently hold her limp left arm, and lifted it up, feeling it with a few careful pinches around it. When he got to her hand, he turned it over a few times, inspecting every finger and wrinkle, before lifting it up to kiss her knuckles, “It’s thin and mushy.”

She just laughed, although she could feel the tears in her eyes starting, and she tried to hide them by looking away. Her voice was ready to crack though, and she snuffled, “…I know…”

The older man just pulled her back against his chest again and pet her head, “You’ll recover. You’re too tough to let this get you down. It’s just temporary setback.” He said reassuringly. Furion slid his hand over to give her right knee a gentle squeeze, and Lequerion let go as the toaster popped again. The younger gestured at their food though, and they both dug in. Lequerion set that new plate of toast in front of his son, then rinsed his hands off under the kitchen sink’s running water, “So…Laurier, huh. What were you two up to that led you to be in his crosshairs?”

“Not us. Just her.” Furion nudged his head towards the woman, “Lord Rylen sent Seth onto a covert mission into Kitez, and sent Ren over to go get him. It didn’t go well. Then he sent her on a mission to try again, but with her full regalia…unfortunately, it didn’t go well the second time, either.”

“What about that Lugios kid? Didn’t you get stuck with him for a bit?”

“Yeah…and he was there both times.” Ren nodded, and used her fork to pick at what was left of her breakfast, “He was able to stop the man the first time; by surrendering us into his custody…but he got in the way when I tried again yesterday.”

“Damn…”

“To say the least.” Furion chimed in.

“If I get a third shot…I need a better angle.” She continued, “Furion says you fought the man once before. Any insight?”

Lequerion tossed a hand-drying towel over his shoulder, and crossed his arms in thought, “Honestly, the man fights as well as you.” He started, “Just…utterly relentless and nonstop, using that adamant refusal to take a breath to overwhelm his enemies. In melee, that mech of his can learn and adapt to any fighting style; if he can witness a strike coming, the A.I. on board can predict an outcome, and move the arms to counter it. His offensive moves have to be self-motivated though, which is why the thing has four arms instead of just two. The big ones are largely A.I.-piloted, but the smaller ones are all him.”

“…How do you know that?” Ren was surprised.

“I’ve gone over the footage of my fight with him so many times, trying to figure out how he was able to stay toe-to-toe with me. No mortal man should’ve been able to.” Lequerion answered, “Obviously, things might’ve changed since back then, but…most people become masters of their style, and rarely change it, only incorporating new things into it that may be helpful, rather than switching entirely.”

“…He was using the big arms offensively against me.” She noted, “The smaller ones were deflecting and parrying every blow. I couldn’t understand how he defended so perfectly.”

“He must’ve learned from our fight, then.” Lequerion supposed, and set his hands onto the edge of the sink, “Maybe he swaps A.I. between the two now. You should study your own footage like I did. See if you can spot the moment he switches.”

“You’re right. I will.”

.

It was two more hours before the rest of the household finally awoke, but by then, Ren had swapped places with the sentiment, and was thus unconscious. On her left side in the gap between Furion’s right and the back of a bracket-shaped couch, right arm draped over his stomach and head on his chest, she snoozed quietly. When the first of two sets of footsteps came into the den, it was an older woman with a long, thick braid hanging behind her back, largely gone white by then with a subtle tint of orange streaking through it. Grey eyes looked to her husband though, “Morning, honey. What’s for breakfast? I can smell you’ve been cooking.” She greeted tiredly, and yawned against the back of her hand.

Lequerion – where he was lounging on the mirrored side of the bracket-couch - gently lifted a finger up to his lips in a gesture to be quiet, and nudged his head to the side she’d passed-by. His attempts to keep the room’s volume to a minimum were dashed though when the excited giggling of a young girl filled the air, and the youngest member of the family skipped around gleefully.

“Fury fury! Furion!” She cheered, and lunged at the man where he’d had his head back against the pillows in a deep sleep. He was jarred awake by the smack of a 4-year-old’s hands against his cheeks, and while startled, he quickly realized there was no threat, “Fuuuuuurion!” She cackled.

Lequerion tried to get his daughter to come back in his direction, but she didn’t hear him, too wrapped-up in the happy sight of her much-older brother.

The older woman came to the rescue though, and lifted the child up from behind the couch to rest her against a hip, “Suzu, you should be more mindful when people are tired.”

“It’s okay, mom…also, hi.” Furion mumbled, eyes bleary, “Sorry to drop in unannounced…”

“Oh, don’t you worry, baby.” She reached down to accept the greeting clasp of his left hand, “But why don’t you take her to bed? If you’re both this tired, you probably traveled here overnight, right?”

“They flew all the way here in their armor; can you believe it?” Lequerion explained, still shocked by it himself, “Lord Rylen actually let them do it, too.”

“Oh wow,” Her brows went up in surprise, but she set her daughter down to shoo her towards the kitchen before leaning down to kiss the top of her oldest child’s head, “Please take her to bed. We can catch-up when you’re both rested.”

Furion blinked hard a few times to wake up a little, but eventually nodded, and carefully moved to peel himself from Ren’s slumbering form. With care, he got up, scooped her into his arms, and walked her around the large couch and coffee-table. He paused beside his mother before heading down that side-hall though, and bent his head down to touch his brow to hers, “Thanks, mom.”

“Are you married yet?”

He snorted a quiet laugh, “I’m still Captain.”

“She transferred out though, didn’t she? That means she’s fair-game.”

“That was a temporary formality. She’s back with us again. I’ll explain later.”

She made a face at him, but then turned to look at the sleepy Wing Commander passed-out against his shoulder. She reached over to brush a few strands of hair from her face, and smiled, “Well, I guess it’s just as well. I’d have been quite upset if you did it without us.”

“Lord Rylen knows.” Furion noted, and glanced back at his father as well, who was making his way to the kitchen to cook-up round 2, “And apparently, he has for quite some time. I don’t think we have to hide being ‘us’ anymore.”

“Well, don’t get too bold. You still have a team to lead, and so does she. Now…go on and rest easy. We’ll chat later. It’s good to have you both home.”