**This Story Contains Tcest**
Pairings: Raphael/Donatello, Leonardo/Michelangelo, Raphael/Michelangelo, Michelangelo/Donatello
Info: Alternate Universe, Royalty, Elemental Magic, Action/Adventure, Romance

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~*~ Chapter Three: Sucellus, Kingdom of Earth ~*~

Eight Weeks Later
...two months before the Trials of Succession are scheduled to begin...

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Donatello could easily admit his desperate love for the Earth Kingdom. If there was any place in the entire world he could love as much as his own kingdom, Sucellus was it.

It was a feeling that surprised him more than anything else on his journey so far, because Sucellus was a desert.

The capital sat snuggly in the depression of a fertile valley, the city cut in half down the middle by a small tributary that flowed down from the hills and emptied into an oasis that could only be described as modest at best, not even large enough to call a lake. Its intimate size made it a vibrant jewel nestled within a landscape that was light and arid, with dry brush and small spindly trees stretching out for miles in all directions.

Don could never have imagined a place so drastically different from all that he had ever known. There were no mountains, no large bodies of water, nothing that was green or lush outside of the city itself. But he loved it anyway.

Sucellus was easily the smallest of the four kingdoms but it never felt that way, character and culture burst from within its walls like nothing could ever hope to contain it. There was so much art and music and architecture to absorb, he thought he could spend a hundred years walking the ancient stone streets, gazing at the carved marble columns and statues that seemed like they would come to life if you stared at them too long, and he still would never be able to see all of it.

But a city by itself is nothing if it's not animated and amplified by the quality of its citizens, and Sucellus was a shining example of that. All around him were some of the most friendly, joyous and helpful people Don had ever encountered. He almost never saw anyone without a smile on their face. Laughter and singing filled the air wherever he happened to be. They were hard working and carefree all at once.

Every day was the same and yet never did one seem boring or dull. Mornings were for work, conducting business, taking care of shopping or errands and managing the day-to-day responsibilities of their lives. It seemed to be a normal, thriving city in every sense that mattered.

It wasn't until the sun set on his first day within its walls that he learned the true philosophy by which these people lived.

'Never let work stop you from living.' They would chant like a prayer once the sun had reached its peak at midday, their smiles beaming as they shut up their shops and cafes and galleries. In a blink the streets were empty, with everyone retreating into their homes for a meal and an afternoon sleep. Then, when the sun was just starting to lower in the sky, Don watched with wonder as adults, young and old alike, emerged to fill the streets again and the party would last until dawn lit the sky.

Every moment of existence was a celebration for these people. Love, life, death, marriage, birth, everything was joyously praised with as much art, music, eating, drinking and fornicating that could be crammed into the far too few hours before dawn. During the short time he had spent among them, Donatello was exhausted and fulfilled in ways that he never knew was possible.

And he was so grateful that Sucellus had proven to be far less intense than his experience in the fire kingdom. Donatello had left Agni the morning after the masquerade shaken and uneasy with half a mind to go straight back home and crawl under his bed. But, against every instinct that screamed in his head, he had pressed on, and the earth kingdom had soothed his soul, providing the balm he needed to erase that night of excess from his mind and forget about the feelings that still lingered when he closed his eyes.

He couldn't explain why he had reacted to Raphael as strongly as he did. He wanted to blame the drink or the smoke, or maybe the moon itself was responsible, casting its spell over the glade, bewitching everyone in attendance. He supposed anything was possible.

But none of those feeble excuses revealed why he could still feel the blood rushing in his veins when he remembered the prince of fire's shining amber eyes, or the heat of his fingers as they rested against his skin, or how perfectly their bodies fit together as they danced.

It was something he was trying his best not to think about at all, because anxiety wasn't something he handled well on a good day, and because in a staggeringly short amount of time he would be spending every day in Raphael's presence. His performance in the trials depended on him figuring out how to control this strange new flood of emotion.

And the earth kingdom was proving to be exactly the distraction he needed. Under the stars the people would walk the streets, eating and drinking and dancing and singing with absolutely no concerns for personal privacy or modesty whatsoever. Sex, in any consensual form, was accepted and even encouraged anywhere the mood struck, and passerby were more than happy to make sure everyone had a pillow or a blanket or a drink for maximum comfort.

Because not having a good time was simply not allowed after dark in Sucellus, in all the best ways.

Walking past a young couple lost in the throes of passion practically in the middle of the street had been a bit of a shock to Don during his first night within the city, but now he found such behavior refreshing and he could see the positive effects it seemed to have on everyone's mental health. Before long he found himself wondering if his own people might be open to adopting some of the tamer Sucellen customs. It was a question he fully intended to bring to his advisors when he returned home, in any case.

Wandering through the brightly lit crowded streets was not how he generally preferred to experience the midnight hours, however. More often than not he chose to spend his nights enjoying one of the many bathhouses scattered throughout the city, not only because the water called to him, but because they provided some of the best food he'd ever had outside of his own palace.

His favorite bathhouse was built around a natural desert spring, the clear water bubbling and pooling around a veritable forest of massive boulders. Walls had been constructed between each towering rock, and each room was connected by a winding central hall that led to a small garden at the back of the property normally reserved for exclusive gatherings. To add to the atmosphere, they had chosen not to build a roof, it was a luxury that allowed the patrons an unencumbered view of the night sky as they bathed.

All the bathhouses in Sucellus were elegant and grand, but due to the positioning of the rocks, this location offered smaller, more private rooms, and the intimacy of the place brought Don a feeling of comfort that he favored.

Sighing in relief he lounged blissfully on the edge of a medium sized pool in one of the smaller rooms, his legs dangling in the water warmed by the boulders themselves after absorbing the heat of the sun all day. He laid back with his arms behind his head, staring up at the stars before closing his eyes, feeling the warm liquid seep into his skin. It surged through his veins like he was a piece of dried fruit, plumping him back to life.

Donatello was determined to enjoy what he decided was to be his final night in Sucellus. He had a timetable to keep, and even though he would have liked to stay for another week or two, he knew if he didn't leave now, he wouldn't have the time to visit Aeolus before he was expected to return home.

The trials wouldn't wait for him, no matter how much he wished he could skip them all together.

He was dozing, enjoying the quiet music that drifted to his ears from somewhere outside, when suddenly the soft tickle of fingers tentatively ran from his ankle up to his knee. He lifted his head, looking down to find a young turtle maid, her pretty skin the vibrant color of sea kelp, floating between his knees. She smiled at him sweetly, her invitation obvious as she blinked.

Don sat up slowly, offering her a warm smile in return while resolutely shaking his head. She answered with a pout, her pink lip sticking out adorably. But when he didn't change his answer she sighed and leaned over to place a quick kiss on the inside of his knee before pushing back and floating away in search of a more amiable partner.

He watched her go, almost instantly regretting his choice as she slid into the arms of a handsome young male turtle and together, they joined a few others that had started to gather in a back corner where plush cushions were laid out to accommodate small groups.

Taking a deep breath to calm his steadily increasing heartbeat, he rose from the water and reached for a towel to dry his legs.

It wasn't that he didn't want to accept her advances. But as a prince, he was heir, not only to the kingdom of Varuna, but most importantly to the entire element of water and the one thing his priests had always made crystal clear to him was the fact that he needed to be incredibly careful when choosing who to bring into his bed.

The gift of their powers was passed onto their first-born child, regardless of how or with whom that child was conceived and making a mistake with the wrong person could have lasting consequences if he weren't exceedingly cautious.

So, as much as he thought he wanted to join them, it was probably best if he avoided the temptation all together.

Reluctantly he slipped into his loose trousers and stepped out into the hall. A plate of food and a cup of wine was probably a better distraction anyway.

The serpentine space was empty as he walked slowly toward the foyer at the front of the bathhouse where refreshments were served. As he drew close, he passed the smallest room, only large enough for a few people, the water it offered hotter than any of the others due to the tiny size of the pool within it.

A delicately painted screen door blocked off the entry for privacy and as Don passed it he heard a deep rumbling voice that sent a shiver shooting straight down his spine. Instantly recognizing the low timber, he jerked to a hard stop and stared at the screen door with wide eyes.

A light laugh came to his ears a moment later, carrying over the lower voice, breathy and excited and rapidly speaking but Don couldn't quite make out the words. His eyes were drawn to a small tear in the fabric at the very edge of the screen, right along the frame, and without any control over his own feet, he stepped closer, tilting his head to peer through the tiny opening.

His breath caught seeing Raphael leaning against the edge of the pool with a small smirk on his face. He was wearing his simpler band of royal red cloth around his eyes now, rather than the extravagant jeweled mask he wore for the masquerade, but he would have been instantly recognizable even if Don hadn't heard him speak.

Before him, rising slowly from beneath the surface of the steaming water was a smaller turtle with skin as brightly green as the sea and Don didn't need to hear his name to know who he was.

"Besides..." Michelangelo said quietly, the water running in rivulets down his arms. "You look good in a toga."

Raphael rolled his eyes with a shake of his head as he reached out and grabbed hold of the edge of Michelangelo's plastron, pulling him in close. "Shut up and come 'ere."

Michelangelo laughed again. "You know, if you wanted me all to yourself, we could have just stayed in my rooms."

"Maybe I didn't before, but now I changed my mind." Raphael said, drawing Michelangelo into a deep kiss.

Donatello silently gasped and leaned back, breaking his line of sight. He took a shaking breath, the magic within him had surged with glee the second he laid eyes on the two princes, and now the powerful urge to slide back the screen and join them was so strong he almost couldn't resist it.

He had to get out of the bathhouse as quickly as possible. He'd risked enough that night at the mask, and now with two of them in the same place it would be supremely stupid of him not to get his things and leave Sucellus this very hour.

That was what his brain was screaming at him anyway. The rest of him was another story. When he leaned forward to look through the small tear in the screen again, it was like some outside force had complete control of his body and he was helplessly watching it happen.

His vision refocused just as Michelangelo was pulling away from Raphael's kiss. "Hmmm... you changed your mind because we were given an empty room and now you don't have any other options."

"That's not true." Raphael said with a slight frown. "It's those concubines your wife keeps around. The way they're always smilin' gives me the creeps."

Michelangelo threw his head back with a full belly laugh. "Why wouldn't they be smiling? You know my wife has many varied talents. Her offer is still open, by the way, and I think you should stop being stubborn and take her up on it. Every day I have to listen to her talking about how she wants to mount you like a..."

"No! No. I'm good." Raphael insisted, shaking his head with urgency. "Are ya' tryin' to get me in trouble? I go anywhere near her and my father'll burn me alive, ya' know that! Let's just stay here. I'd much rather be in an empty room with ya' then fightin' off that temptation all night."

"Gee, thanks..." Michelangelo said with a patiently raised eyebrow.

Raphael grinned sheepishly, reaching up to run his thumb across the smaller turtle's cheek. "Aw, come on. That's not what I meant..."

"Heh, I know what you meant." The earth prince murmured. "I guess we just have to make the best of this then." He finished with a teasing smirk, sliding his hands down Raphael's plastron as he slowly sank to his knees, the water sloshing around his waist.

The look on Raphael's face was eager as he watched Michelangelo settle in front of him, his fingers curling around the back of his head.

The prince of earth wasted no time, peppering kisses across the bottom edge of Raphael's plastron, ducking down deep into the creases of his groin, burying his face into the warmth he found there and tasting it with what Don could only assume was long sweeps of his tongue. He couldn't quite tell from his limited angle and he wished the small tear he was looking through was just a little bigger so he could see better.

He shifted his feet, unconsciously leaning closer until his face was almost pressed right against the screen, fascinated by the flex of Raphael's biceps as he gripped the stone behind him with his free hand, guiding Michelangelo forward on his knees with the other, scooting him in closer, sloshing the water over the edges of the pool in his haste and Donatello swallowed hard.

He needed to go. Anyone could walk by and catch him looking. Why couldn't he make his feet move? There was a tugging pull in the center of his chest, like a siren's call, flaring with a heat he had felt for the first time only a few weeks ago, under a darkened sky and a blood red moon.

The low rumble of a churr reached his ears and his hand shot forward, his fingers wrapping around the handle on the screen of their own volition with every intention of opening it and stepping through, his eyes widening as he distantly realized he wasn't going to be able to stop himself.

"Wait... do you feel that?" Michelangelo asked, puzzled.

Pulling sharply away from Raphael he turned to stare at the closed screen door at the same moment another screen door further down the hall opened, spilling light and a small group of laughing, drinking Sucellens into the quiet space.

Don jerked back with a gasp, looking toward the commotion. The sudden noise seemed deafening and shattered the spell that had caught him so effortlessly. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and swung back to the tear in the screen just as Michelangelo was stepping out of the steaming pool and moving with purpose toward the closed screen door.

A wave of panic blossomed in Don's chest, his heart instantly hammering against his ribs. He had to move, quickly, or Michelangelo would find him standing there, spying on them like a lunatic.

He forced his feet to move, lurching to the side with an undignified squeak. If they caught him, there would be nothing he could do. This wasn't a dark crowded field full of dancing bodies, this was an almost empty hallway with nowhere to hide.

How did this keep happening?! Sucellus was a major city, Agni was a major city, with thousands of people living their lives. The odds that he would encounter even one of the other princes, let alone two of them, let alone two of them in the exact same place, was astronomical. This was ridiculous.

In his haste to get away, Donatello failed to notice that he had turned in the wrong direction and was heading deeper into the bathhouse, away from the main exit and safety. Door after door blurred past him as he walked swiftly down the hall.

The revelers retreated back into their room, closing the screen door behind them, quiet descending on the hall again. And in that quiet he could hear the distinct sound of quick feet slapping on the stone floor in pursuit of him as he fled. A burst of adrenaline rushed through his veins and he only just held himself back from breaking into a full sprint.

Before him, at the end of the hall, was one inviting opening with greenery visible just beyond its threshold and he blindly passed through it, rushing into the green space looking frantically for a door.

The garden was large, decorated with thick bushes blanketed in fragrant white blooms and surrounded by tall leafy trees, the tops of which brushed against a sturdy pergola above, built to completely cover the space and contain the flock of exotic finches that flit about from tree to tree as they filled the air with their cheerful song. There was a fountain in the center of the yard, gurgling pleasantly.

But even the enticing call of the water could not comfort him now. Don made straight for the perimeter wall, hoping he could climb over it or maybe find a small service entrance to slip through as the sound of footsteps behind him grew louder with each passing second.

There was nothing. The entire garden was completely enclosed. Don spun in a circle, searching desperately for a way out. He was out of time and out of options.

To his right he spied a tall hedge tucked up into the corner and instantly decided it was the best option he had. Diving for it, he squeezed into the narrow space between the leaves and the perimeter wall, holding his breath and freezing still as a statue. Not even a second later his pursuers came bursting into the garden.

"Raph, he's here! I know it!" Michelangelo's breathing was heavy, and his voice agitated.

"Who?" Raphael asked with clear annoyance.

"Donatello!"

There was a heavy pause and when Raphael's voice came again it was thick with confusion. "What?"

"The magic, can't you feel it?! It's coming off him in waves."

Don winced and shut his eyes. There was another long pause, with only the splashing sound of the fountain breaking the silence.

Then Raphael sneezed so loudly he scared the birds in the trees.

"Gah! Come on Mikey!" He growled as he sniffed. "I don't feel nothin', and ya' know I can't be out here. I wanted to relax, not chase ya' around on one of your tangents again. Come find me when you're done runnin' around like a crazy person."

The sound of Raphael's heavy footsteps faded as he left, but Don didn't dare move even an inch. Michelangelo hadn't made a single sound, but Don knew he was still there, he could feel his presence like a heavy blanket on his shoulders.

A long moment passed before the earth prince's quiet voice finally drifted to him from somewhere near the fountain.

"I know you're here. I can feel you. Your magic... it's reaching out so desperately..."

Don laid a hand against the stone of the back wall. It had honestly never occurred to him that their power would be a physical sensation they could feel between each other. But there it was, that same tugging, tingling pull deep in his chest, like there was a tether straining between them. And now that his attention had been drawn to it, he couldn't possibly mistake it for anything else.

Suddenly it was all he could feel, and it explained so much. The intense familiarity for Raphael that had overwhelmed him at the masquerade, the way they had circled each other and how relieved Don had felt when he finally found himself in Raphael's arms. It was never the alcohol or the moonlight or the music resonating in his bones. It was just them, the way it should have always been.

"Please come out..." Michelangelo's plea was soft and strained and Don released a defeated breath.

There was nothing he could do, nowhere for him to run, and he laughed quietly to himself as he accepted it. This had been the stupidest idea he'd ever had, April was right, there was never a scenario where he would have been able to complete his journey without being discovered, he should have known better. And now it was all over.

'I wonder if I'll be treated as a royal guest or a prisoner of war...' Don idly thought as he drew himself up. They would ask a million questions of him, questions he couldn't answer because there was too much he needed to protect. And there was no one to blame but himself. He'd gotten himself into this mess and now he had to face the consequences of it.

Doing his best to keep his face as emotionless as possible, he squared his shoulders and slowly stepped out from behind the hedge, stopping a few feet away from the safety of the back wall where he had plenty of space to move, if he needed to.

Drawing in a shaky breath Don found himself locked in the piercing gaze of the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen, eyes deep as a mountain lake and framed by an ornately embroidered band of orange cloth that wrapped around his face in perfect contrast to both the blue of his irises and the light green of his skin. A fluffy towel was tucked in at his waist, resting low on his hips, absorbing the drops of water that still clung to his legs.

He wasn't handsome like Raphael, not in the same way. There was none of the rugged, weighted power that the prince of fire so easily radiated. Michelangelo was lighter, brighter, his face open with such innocent wonder that Don was immediately finding it hard to maintain his defensive posture.

They stood frozen and staring for a long moment, like each was waiting for the other to make the first move.

Finally, Michelangelo shook his head. "You're really him... aren't you?"

Don's breath caught in his throat. It was probably a rhetorical question, there was little doubt Michelangelo knew exactly who he was, but if there was even the slightest chance that the earth prince was not completely certain of his identity then Don had to take it.

He swallowed uncomfortably before answering with a short bow of his head. "Your Highness, I'm not sure who you think I am, but I promise you I am nothing more than a simple scholar, and I'm afraid I've..."

With a swiftness that rivaled even the fastest Bilifay, Michelangelo swooped down, plunging his hand into the fountain beside him and flinging a cupped handful of water right at Donatello's face.

Don didn't even have the chance to think, it was pure instinct. With practiced ease he raised his hand and caught the water midair, pulling it into the shape of a small orb that he held over his palm in front of him, and the momentary rush of using his power for the first time in four months overrode the realization of what he had just done. He stood blinking at it for a second before a shocked chill ran through him and he quickly looked at the earth prince.

Michelangelo was gazing at him with the widest of grins plastered on his face.

Angry at himself for falling for such a simple trick, Donatello released a grumbling huff and dropped the water to splash on the ground at his feet.

"I'm sorry, but I had to be sure." The earth prince laughed.

"Fine." Donatello finally said. "You've found me out. So, what now? Are you going to interrogate me? Drag me before your father so he can decide what to do with me?"

Michelangelo tilted his head. "Why would I do that? You haven't done anything wrong. Not unless you're here to kill me. Wait... you're not, are you?"

Don blinked in complete confusion at the flash of fear in the earth prince's eyes. What kind of question was that? He wasn't a... oh. Well, that wasn't really an unreasonable assumption to make under the circumstances, he supposed. A litany of half formed responses jumbled up in his brain before he finally answered with nothing more than a whispered 'no'.

Relief softened Michelangelo's face and he smiled. "They all think that you... well... it doesn't matter what they think. You're really here... I almost can't believe it."

Michelangelo took a step forward but stopped when Donatello immediately tensed.

"What about him?" Don asked, tipping his chin toward the door that led back to the hall and the bathing rooms.

Michelangelo smirked. "Who? Raph? He won't come back in here, he's allergic to the azaleas. They make him sneeze."

With a self-satisfied, toothy grin he plucked a white bloom from a nearby bush, smelling deeply from the fragrant blossom before tossing it into the fountain.

Don frowned, "You told him you saw me."

Michelangelo shrugged. "He doesn't believe me. Besides, he's halfway through his third bottle of wine already. By tomorrow he probably won't even remember we came in here. And he... he's never really been able to feel our magic, not like me. You could say I'm a little more attuned to it than the others. Not even Leo can feel us as strongly as I can, and he's way more into that kind of thing than I've ever wanted to be."

Don watched the earth prince carefully as he spoke. The smaller turtle was drawing steadily closer with each word, but he was moving slowly so Don didn't call him on it. Taking a few discrete steps to his left he kept a careful distance between them. The closer they came together the more the magic within him sang with joy, like a hive of buzzing bees pulsing through his veins.

Michelangelo watched him step away and gave him a sympathetic look, concern and understanding and longing written all over his face. He almost looked like he might start to cry with the way his eyes were shining.

"I've imagined this moment hundreds of times." He offered quietly. "We all have. We've tried to picture what you would look like, what we would say to each other. And now here you are and... and... why? Why did he keep you from us? Why did he lock you away?"

"He didn't... ...it's complicated." Don deflected, taking a deep breath and clenching his fists, almost blurting out truths in defense of his father that couldn't be told. Not now, not yet.

Michelangelo must have sensed his reluctance because he immediately held up his hands with an apologetic smile. "Ok, that's ok, I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to. That's not what this has to be about. Fair warning though, Leo is gonna drill you relentlessly about it, that's kind of his thing. And he won't wait until after the trials are over either. It'll be a first night around the campfire type deal."

A wave of guilt crashed over him, because the truth was that every part of him wanted to let go, to let Michelangelo in, to have someone that he could finally confide in.

"I know you have questions," Don sighed. "and... I want to tell you, all of you, I do. But there are pieces of this even I don't know the answers too, and until I discover them... I can't..."

"I get it, but..." Michelangelo said, moving closer by a couple of steps. "Is that why you're here? If there's something you're searching for, I can help you. We'll all help you, with anything you need."

"No, that's not what I mean."

There were dozens of reasons why he was on this journey but finding answers to the many questions surrounding his father was not one of them, not now in any case. He wasn't even sure there were answers to be had with so many unknowns standing in his way.

Even so, he felt light with the realization that here, in this garden at the very least, he was in no danger. The air between them crackled with energy, but instead of frantic it was soothing and calming. Michelangelo was one of his own, one of the few that could perfectly understand what it was to be who he was. He gazed into those pleading blue eyes and truly wished he could tell Michelangelo everything.

But he couldn't. There was still one particularly important person that Don needed to protect, that he absolutely couldn't fail, not now that they were so close to end. So, he settled for a fraction of the truth.

"I'm here... because I've never been anywhere. How can I be king when I've never seen what exists beyond the borders of my own kingdom? I need to experience the world, to learn about it outside of the pages of a book."

Michelangelo had stopped next to him, close enough to touch, and it was taking all of Don's will power not to step in closer. He smelled earthy and sweet, like citrus and moss and soil during a rain, and it was intoxicating.

"I understand." The earth prince soothed. "You want to see the world, and now you're taking the chance while you can still do it in secret. Honestly, I would've done the same if it was me."

And just like that Donatello went completely numb, his eyes glazed and locked on Michelangelo's face so close to his own, blinking as he tried not to think about how enticing his lips were and maybe what he would taste like if he just...

"Do you like it here, in my kingdom?"

The simple everyday question distracted Don from the turn his thoughts had taken and he smiled gratefully. "It's lovely. My favorite, so far."

"So far... how long have you been here?"

"Eight weeks, give or take a few days. It's kind of easy to lose track of time here."

"Heh, yeah." Michelangelo laughed softly. "So... I'm guessing you've already been to Agni, seeing how it's kind of on the way."

Don nodded, "It was nice. A little too hot for my taste."

"Yes! That's what I always say. It's muggy and the air is so heavy there. But don't ever let Raph hear you say that. He gets all grumbly and complains about how everywhere that isn't Agni is too cold."

They both laughed at that mental image of Raphael and somehow it was easy for Don to believe, even though he knew next to nothing about the prince of fire.

"Well, he should probably never come to Varuna then, everything back home is covered in snow for six months out of the year."

"I can't wait to see it..." Michelangelo said after a few heartbeats, his face eager and shining with delight. Moving swiftly, he closed the distance between them until there was only a sliver of space separating their bodies, his eyes sliding shut as he tilted his head down and breathed in deeply.

"You smell like the sea... and juniper." He whispered, turning slightly so their noses almost bumped. "And your eyes... like quicksand, pulling at me..."

Don shuddered, biting the inside of his lip. Time hung, unmoving around them, as they held their breath. The pounding of his own pulse the only sound in his ears. Even the birds stopped singing like they were waiting for a choice to be made.

Something undefinable was vibrating across his skin and he itched to move his hands and find out what it would feel like if he completed the connection. But he held firm, somehow managing to control the impulse, and eventually Michelangelo huffed out a light laugh, clearing his throat.

"So, um, I'm guessing you'll be going to Aeolus next then?"

Don looked up into the branches of the trees as he tried to focus on the question rather than the warm breath brushing across his cheek. "I was going to... but not now. My goal was to remain hidden while I traveled, so I could observe and learn. But now that you know I've been here that's no longer tenable. I should just go home and wait for the trials to start."

"No!" Michelangelo yelped, pulling back sharply. "You have to go to Aeolus."

Caught off guard by the sudden urgency in his voice, Don looked down, finding the earth prince's face dark and serious. "Why...?"

Michelangelo shuffled his feet for a moment, an uncomfortable frown shadowing his face, before carefully answering in a voice so quiet Don had to strain to hear it.

"I could try and explain it to you, but it's really just something you need to see for yourself. It's easier to understand that way. Besides, you came all this way, it would be a shame if you didn't finish what you started."

Don wasn't sure if that last bit was still about Aeolus, or if he was referring to the magnetic pull energizing the air between them that had them both mesmerized, but either way he couldn't argue. It would be a shame.

Deciding he didn't need to acknowledge the vague suggestion with words, he answered with nothing more than a lopsided grin and a nod, satisfied when Michelangelo beamed.

"It's a nice enough place," The earth prince assured, the lightness returning to his voice. "If you like rocks and ice and snow, anyway."

"I guess I'll feel right at home then." Don chuckled. A short silence stretched between them, making Don worry about what might happen if he stayed any longer. The last thing he wanted was to make a mistake he might regret.

"I should probably go." He said apologetically, his gaze falling on the open door leading back to the hall. "I don't have a lot of time left."

Michelangelo's disappointment was palpable, his fingers flexing at his sides, but eventually he nodded with acceptance.

"Here, let me..." He whispered.

Donatello watched as Michelangelo extended his arm, his hand forming a quick fist before pulling sharply back at the elbow toward his side. A second later a grinding rumbling sound made Don turn his head and he saw the stones of the back wall separating and swinging in, forming a small doorway that opened onto blackness.

"It's a private entrance built for my family's use, so we can come and go as we please. No one will see you leave."

Don smiled warmly. "Thank you, Michelangelo."

"Call me Mikey." He corrected with a feigned grimace. "Only my father calls me Michelangelo."

"Mikey..." Don said in a whisper, turning toward the opening in the rock.

Before he took more than a step, a hand reached out and wrapped around his elbow, pulling him back, sending a tingling shock shooting up and down his arm. He gasped as Mikey planted a determined kiss directly on the center of his cheek before dipping in to whisper in his ear.

"We'll see you soon. Don't be late."

Don shivered and smiled gently, pulling his wrist free with his last ounce of strength. At the opening in the stone, he turned back for one last look.

Mikey was staring at him, open mouthed, his chest rising and falling with the effort to stay where he was, and Don sighed heavily before disappearing into the darkness.

The magic within him was simmering with displeasure almost insurmountable as he walked away, but even as it raged at his core, Donatello could tell that on some level it understood. Now was not the time or the place, and it only needed to wait a little while longer.

In two short months they would all finally be together. And maybe, if they were lucky, they would never need to be separated ever again.

~*~ EotW ~*~