A little promised fluff to end the year!

Have a fantastic new year, bring on 2020!

How Therion came to travel with Cyrus he couldn't quite remember, but he certainly was grateful for whatever God threw him into his path.

A Stolen Year

It hadn't been an easy year. In fact, if pressed, Cyrus was inclined to say that it had been the hardest year of his life. Which probably went a long way to show just how sheltered and simple his life had been thus far.

And yet, he'd come out the other side of this year stronger than he'd started it – both physically and mentally. For all the hardships he'd endured on his search for From the Far Reaches of Hell, he'd earned himself a new understanding of the continent and the history and myths it had been built on. And, yes, while Atlasdam had lost both its headmaster and headmaster's assistant to all this malarkey with the missing tomes, it had rehired a professor most dedicated to his study and the bettering of his and the world's knowledge.

It was just strange that he brought that thief back with him.

It was just strange that he'd started travelling with that thief in the first place.

Because, well, they had nothing in common. For a renowned (though disgraced) scholar to travel twice around the continent with a thief while he hunted down the criminal who had stolen the missing books… For a thief to travel with a scholar even as he searched for a way to remove the mark of shame shackled to his wrist…

No one could wrap their head around it, least of all the pair of them.

It had been such a chance coincidence that the pair had even met, simply bumping into each other as they brought provisions for their respective journeys. And, when they thought back on it, neither of them could really remember who had suggested they start travelling together in the first place. Therion was adamant that Cyrus had forced himself upon the thief, desperate to learn more about these Dragonstones he was collecting and to get a thief's opinion on his own stolen book quest; Cyrus was insistent that Therion had suggested they travel together since Cyrus would be able to take the fall for him if anything went wrong. Regardless of how exactly it had come to pass, the two of them started reluctantly travelling together soon after they left Atlasdam. By the time their journeys came to an end nearly six months after they started travelling… They were more than reluctant to part.

During the course of their journey together, they'd gotten to know one another quite well, perhaps better than anyone else in the entirety of Orsterra knew them. Because, while Cyrus' life was quite frankly an open book, Therion's was a locked closet, full to the brim with secrets and traumas just waiting to be unloaded on someone quiet and trustworthy who would listen.

And while Cyrus hadn't exactly asked to hear these problems of Therion's, he'd heard them all by the time they parted ways.

By the time they left Noblecourt with a Dragonstone in Therion's pocket, Cyrus had learnt that Therion thought all scholars pompous, pedantic pains-in-the-arse – himself included. When they arrived back in Bolderfall and returned the first of the Dragonstones to the young lady Ravus, Cyrus started to learn that Therion trusted no one, not even himself, and when they left the black market in Wellspring, the scholar knew why. He didn't press for more details about Therion and Darius' relationship, it was all too obvious in the way his entire personality had changed when the pair came into contact with him for the first time.

Surprised so completely, the swagger and confidence that Cyrus had come to rely on from the thief as they walked the towns was replaced with a shocked, high-pitched voice, a weakened, distracted display in his fighting abilities as they fought of Darius' men. The small chatter that he'd finally managed to cultivate with the man as they travelled from town to town was replaced by such overwhelming silence that Cyrus hadn't even known where to start the conversation on their way back to Ravus' manor.

However, Cordelia had known where to start. Because she knew that look on Therion's face, a look at Cyrus had never worn. Distrust. The broken heart of a cynic so desperate to be a trusting optimist that just kept getting crushed.

While Cyrus – a trusting optimist to a fault – had never experienced what Therion had, couldn't know the terrible things that Darius had done to him in their years as partners in crime, he could carry on as though things would get better. And Therion was rather grateful for that.

It hadn't taken long at all for Therion to get a read of the good professor – he never did shut up all that much, after all. A man dedicated only to his work, no eye for anything or anyone else - no matter how much they threw themselves at him. Yet still… It was one thing for a man to be dedicated his work and the singular pursuit of knowledge, it was another entirely for him to kill someone for using their knowledge in what he viewed as an immoral way. Yes, what Gideon was doing was disgusting, immoral and unforgivable in every sense of the words, but he was only doing what the tome told him to do.

What was perhaps even more confusing for the thief to witness was how Cyrus was so willing to kill his former boss because he'd harmed his student. He supposed, in one way, he could understand why Cyrus did what he had to do. But to do it in such a careless manner, with such dark determination behind his eye as he set the monstrous form of the man aflame…

There was a darkness to Cyrus, a side hidden from even the scholar himself that Therion only caught glimpses of as they fought men – especially those in their way. That darkness held him captive even as they made their way to their final destinations: Northreach and Duskbarrow.

Why Cyrus stood by Therion's side as they fought their way through a town of thieves intent on killing Therion, he didn't know. Why Therion decided to continue travelling with Cyrus to Duskbarrow after they returned the last two Dragonstones, he couldn't explain. The best either man could manage was to say they were simply finishing what they started, seeing all the loose ends tied together before they went their separate ways.

However, that didn't really explain why they lingered on the Woodland roads between Bolderfall and Duskbarrow. They travelled those roads almost slower than the Riverland slugs, setting up camps at lunch and striking them down long after the sun rose the next morning, foraging for fruits and hunting for meats as though they weren't carrying more provisions than they could possibly need for this last leg of their trip. Listening to one another talk as though they knew it might well be the last time they saw each other.

Therion not only tolerated Cyrus' impromptu classes and lectures, but he actively listened and questioned the scholar during that last stretch of the journey. Not only that, but the thief volunteered information about his past during that time as well, explaining to Cyrus why he trusted so little as a result of Darius' influence on him, discussing the fact that he hadn't really wanted to be a thief as a child but certainly felt he had little choice in the matter now – his face was too well known, too scarred to be trustworthy even in the towns that didn't know him.

And by the time they happened upon that hidden library… They hadn't wanted to part.

It was inexplicable, irrational even. Therion was a wandering pick-pocket, constantly moving, never settling down; Cyrus was a stationary scholar who travelled only when he wanted to retrieve a rare tome. Cyrus was a noble man, desperate to do good by the world and leave it better than when he arrived; Therion thought only of his own survival and gave little heed to those around him unless they could be of benefit to him. Yet after their six months together, they both began to change, to pick up some of those traits from one another. The professor gained a selfish wanderlust, desperate to see even more of the world for research purposes, of course. The thief became more conscious of those he stole from, taking only from those who had more than enough to spare.

And neither man really wanted to be that far from the other when it came time to part. They'd come to rely on one another – Cyrus relied on Therion's cutting sarcasm to shut him up when he was rambling or acting a fool; Therion relied on Cyrus' company, his ability to chatter away with only the slightest invitation to fill that silence that sometimes felt all too lonely.

So when they arrived back in Atlasdam in the early autumn, their goodbyes were difficult.

"You are more than welcome to stay, you know." Cyrus told Therion, a bundle of new-old tomes under his arm as they started up the bridge to the Academy. "You need not teach nor study."

"Thanks all the same, Books." Therion grabbed at his scarf, nervous around all these academics as they went about their lives, shooting him dirty glances. "But I'm not suited to a place like this."

"I understand." Cyrus sighed, resting a hand on Therion's shoulder that made the man jump in surprise. "Still, there is always a seat at my table for a friend."

"Friend, eh?" Chuckling, Therion patted Cyrus on the back once. "I'll keep that in mind if I'm ever in the area."

Squeezing his shoulder as a goodbye, Cyrus offered Therion a sad smile as they parted ways on that bridge. "Safe travels, Therion."

Patting his back once again, Therion sighed his goodbyes. "Don't tell me how to travel, Books."

"Then die."

"I'll miss you too, Cyrus." Waving over his shoulder, Therion left Atlasdam once again, this time alone with no real need to come back.

Cyrus hadn't expected to see Therion again, there was no reason for him to come back to a town that knew his face after all. Still, that didn't stop him thinking about him. It didn't stop him hoping he'd catch a glimpse of purple scarf as he looked out his window into the Flatland plains every night. Rarely did Cyrus dream – he'd stay up so late reading that his body would simply shut off into sleep when it felt it was lacking – but when he did, it was of Therion, of their travels together.

Specifically, it was of the laughs they'd shared. The times when Cyrus had made Therion laugh so hard that he'd thrown his head back, the quieter times when he'd hidden his laughter behind his scarf as though he was embarrassed by it. It was of the times he'd caught him smiling out the corner of his eye as he explained this theory of the other, the times he'd woken before him and watched the cynical, sarcastic lines on the young thief's face soften with the comfort of sleep.

The problem was, Cyrus just never pieced together what it all meant. So often in his life, Cyrus had been alone, solitary in his studies and his private life. He never felt the need to find a wife, he never felt that urge that so many other men seemed to have to start a family. He was content with his studies, his pursuit of all things knowledgeable.

So when he started to think about Therion in every moment that he wasn't studying, he simply assumed that was how friends thought of one another.

Therion wasn't much better.

The only 'friend' the thief had ever had was Darius, his partner in crime. And though the man was abusive in more ways than one, Therion had looked up at him with some kind of revering love that he was never quite able to explain. So when the bastard threw him off the cliff and destroyed all those positive, human related emotions, Therion never quite figured out how to build them back up right. Hence why it had taken him so long to trust Cyrus, a man who would never have harmed him yet could still kill mercilessly. A man who only wanted to help him, to make him see the world in a positive light once again.

Constantly on the road, Therion didn't sleep all that much and only in short, easy to wake from bursts that left no room for dreams. But that didn't stop him from thinking about the scholar at every waking moment. The way he'd smiled as he spoke, the way he squinted when he read by candle light, the way he'd wrinkled his nose at the tavern mead yet smiled in surprise as he'd tasted it… Constantly he was reminded of the scholar, distracted by him even. It got to the point where he simply left the continent, hoping that a complete change in scenery might free his mind once again.

Instead it only made him lonely, desperate to return. However, he'd travelled so far south in his journey to run away from Cyrus that it was already winter by the time he returned to Orsterra, only a few days from the turn of their new year. Only a few days away from the New Year festival in Atlasdam.

Or at least, Therion thought there was a New Year festival in Atlasdam, there was one in most other towns and villages around the continent. But Atlasdam was never really all that much like all the other towns and villages in Orsterra. Their 'official' New Year festival was exclusive to scholars and members of the Atlasdam Royal Academy, leaving the rest of the town to celebrate alone. And, yes, while they did set up celebrations in the street, Cyrus wasn't there.

Or at least he wasn't there when Therion finally arrived on the bustling streets at quarter to midnight.

Exhausted and travel worn, Therion wasn't really sure why he'd tried so hard to travel all this way in such a short period of time. Four and a half moons had passed since he'd last seen Cyrus, would the scholar even remember him? Would he want to see him again?

There was little place for self-doubt in Therion's mind as he pushed his way through the crowds in the streets, going against the tide as he desperately searched for Cyrus. He knew he wouldn't find him in the crowds on the streets – he'd be up in the palace – but that didn't stop him from looking.

In the end, he hadn't needed to search all that hard. As soon as he made his way to the bridge connecting the Academy to the town, he saw that familiar moon lit silhouette reading a book as he leant against the bridge's stone wall.

It was like no time had passed. His hair was perhaps a little longer, his profile perhaps a little sharper – if only because of how it appeared in the moonlight – but he was still his Cyrus.

His Cyrus.

Shaking his head and clearing the frog in his throat – why was he so anxious? - Therion reached a hand in the air to wave as he approached. "Books? Uh, Cyrus?"

Immediately roused from his reading by that familiar voice, Cyrus turned to spot Therion walking up to him. And his face just lit up. "Therion?!"

Before he knew it, the thief was wrapped up in such a bone crushing hug that all he could do was chuckle and hug the professor back. "Good to see you too..."

"I take it your travels were safe?" Cyrus ask as he pulled away, folding his book into his cloak as he smiled at his friend. Evidentially, there had been no need for Therion to worry and doubt, Cyrus had missed him just as much as he had. But did he think about him as much as he did? Did he wonder why he left for so many months without even a letter?

"Enough." Therion answered honestly, folding another loose bandage away. "Only a few new scars."

"That's good to hear." Cyrus smiled as a silence descended on them. All this time, Therion had thought about coming back yet not once had he thought about what he was going to say.

"Why are you out here?" "I always hoped you would return." Therion and Cyrus said at the same time, breaking the overbearing silence before chuckling awkwardly.

"After you." Cyrus insisted, still smiling at his dear friend. But was that a faint hint of a blush at his cheeks?

Shaking his head, Therion asked again, "Why are you out here? I thought you'd be in there?"

Looking back over his shoulder at the palace, Cyrus chuckled. "Oh… I'm not one for fancy parties myself. Too much dancing, too much small talk… I just needed some air."

It wasn't like Cyrus to seem so distracted with his words, but Therion couldn't blame him. Somehow everything was just a little awkward. And continuing to talk was the only way he could think of to make it less awkward. "Not much of a dancer myself."

"Nor am I." Cyrus chuckled again, offering his hand. "Though, there is much more room out here if you wanted to practice…?"

Therion shook his head mutely.

"A fine choice." Cyrus chuckled again, looking back over his shoulder at the palace once more. "More than that, all the women in there… They are all clamouring for someone to kiss at midnight."

"What?" Therion asked in confusion, completely lost. Cyrus wasn't asking him too…?

"Oh, no, I..." He laughed again. "There is an old Flatland folk-tale that states that if two lovers kiss at midnight on the turn of the new year they will be blessed with good fortune for the year to come."

"I see. Sort of locks you in to that one person for the whole year."

"In a way, I suppose." Cyrus tilted his head to the side in agreement, lost in thought as he struggled to find the right words to say what was clearly on his mind. Therion watched silently, giving him the space he needed to formulate those thoughts. Finally, Cyrus faced him once again, a strangely troubled look in his eye. "Therion, may I be candid?"

"I've never known you to be any other way, Books." Therion joked before gesturing in front of him for the scholar to continue.

"Yes, quite. Um. I always hoped you would return." Cyrus struggled to meet Therion's eye as he spoke, a bright blush covering his cheeks that was visible even in the moonlight. "Most nights, I would set up at my desk in front of the window and watch the Flatland plains always hoping that I might see you a top one of the hills. You have haunted my every dream since I have returned and, well, it almost feels as though you stole this entire year away from me. However, I mean that in the most appreciative way possible."

"Cyrus. Shut up." Therion said softly, a strange look on his face that Cyrus had never seen before. It was soft, so soft, yet also forceful, determined even. So alien was the look on Therion's face that Cyrus didn't even register that he'd closed the gap between them completely, there was barely room for him to hold a book.

"Beg pard-"

Before he could finish, Therion's lips were on his own. Much like his face, his kiss was soft and determined, catching Cyrus so much by surprise that he did little more than just stand there in wide eyed shock as cheers rose from both sides of the bridge and the new year began.

"Happy New Year." Such a simple thing to say as he pulled away, but there was a wealth of emotion behind Therion's voice, all of which boiled down to the same thought that was running through Cyrus' head: 'Damn, that felt good.'

"H-happy new year." Cyrus managed a hoarse reply before he cleared his throat and asked, "I'm terribly sorry, but would we be able to do that again?"

"You don't have to be so polite about it, Books." Therion laughed, almost as red in the face as Cyrus.

"Oh, quite." Still, Cyrus was gentle as he took a hold of Therion's waist, never breaking eye contact as he leant down to his lips. He was gentle right up to the point when Therion decided he didn't want to be and knotted his hands in Cyrus' hood, pulling the scholar even closer as he desperately deepened the kiss. The next thing Therion knew, his back was forced against the bridge wall as Cyrus answered his desperate kiss with one perhaps even more hungry. Before he knew it, his hands were under Cyrus' shirt on his bare skin, his legs wrapped around the scholar's hips and one of their lips was definitely bleeding. A frantic breathlessness came over them, made all the more evident by their breath clouds in the cold winter air.

"Shall we go..." Cyrus started, panting as he momentarily broke away. "Shall we go somewhere a little more private?"

Therion could only manage a hasty nod in response.

The last year wasn't bad. In fact, if pressed, Therion was inclined to say that – despite everything that had happened – it was best year of his life. After all, if none of it had happened, he wouldn't have woken up in the bed of a man he could truly love and trust the first day of the new year.