[A/N: I have a lot of feelings about lemons, ok? There weren't enough fics for this pair so I wrote my own.]


There's a faint ripple in this cozy stillness, a vaguely familiar voice, and it annoys him. He had decided that his journey was over, and taken comfort in the silence of this place. Just because he was tired of being free did not mean that he desired being bothered by anything. Whether it was his own mind or some outside influence he wasn't certain of yet. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep for ages.

"Softness! Come here! Quickly! It's one of our boys!"

"Are you certain, Bitters?...oh...It's...I think that's little Lemonhope."

He opens his ancient eyes with some effort, tries to recollect the two identical voices, one shaking with excitement, the other cautiously optimistic. Could it be the same person talking to themselves? The room looks the same as it did when he entered it and laid down upon the bed.

He sits up to find the source of the voice, and stares at the two figures huddled at the foot of his bed. They stare right back, wordless. Then the screaming starts. All three individuals yelling at each other, before deciding it's too much effort at their age and going quiet again.

The two elderly Earls, clothes a bit different, but still in the black and white themes he remembers, 'hmm' to each other thoughtfully. The lemon in black speaks first, then his brother.

"Mm, it is good to see you...alive."

"Yes, we never knew what became of you."

It's a strange moment for Lemonhope, seeing and hearing his earliest memories, that have been fuzzy and gone out of his mind for centuries, suddenly in startling reality. It's equally strange to see them so calm and cordial. He's not afraid of them anymore, and he was already prepared for death, but the whole encounter is intrusive and perplexing. He clears his throat.

"Hm, what happened here? I didn't see any signs of anyone when I arrived. I thought the kingdom was empty."

His makers frown in unison, brows furrowing. The earl in white speaks first this time.

"Mm-it is a very long story."

"Yes, centuries long. You would fall asleep again."

Lemon hope smiles a bit at that, curiosity peaked. In his time he had composed many songs, to tell the stories he had experienced and heard in his life.

"Hmmm that is alright, my story would take a long time to tell too. I came here to rest, and I'm too sore for traveling, so a story is a good way to pass the time."

They all agreed upon this, having grown past the age where squabbling or vengeance was worth anything. Nearly one thousand years had passed between the creators and their creation, after all. They spent their days and nights telling tales until their voices were hoarse, taking turns when one or the other had started losing the ability to speak.

They carefully avoided speaking of their transgressions, as they gathered bits of tattered scraps, and scratched words and musical notes into a patched-togther book with whatever pigments they could find at the end of their world. They already knew that story, and didn't care to hear it again.