Viren's new life in exile fell into a routine. Which was fine - he liked routines, he'd always lived by them. Routines kept his days in order, made him feel in control.
Even if part of that routine involved talking to an infuriatingly smug cecaelia.
At the beginning of the month, he took kelp strips to the vents, and collected grass and sand for grinding. For the first month, he spoke to Aaravos once a week - mostly about advanced magical theory. As much as it did frustrate the mer that he couldn't even attempt to put anything into practice, it was… nice to have some piece of his old life back.
The carnivore was almost tolerable during these discussions - it was easy to see how he could draw mer into his teaching. Aaravos wasn't smug or enigmatic about magic - he was open and patient, and clearly understood the topic on a level Viren could never match. And yet he never felt belittled for it - even when the mer thought the cecaelia was going over a concept the other man found simple, he was spoken to like an equal.
It was almost more irritating that way.
Viren had planned to continue restricting himself to speaking with Aaravos once a week - it was often enough to keep him from - ugh - missing companionship, but not so often as to promote an actual… fondness.
Mer were social creatures. Viren understood this. After getting over his initial disgust with himself for being compelled to seek the company of a carnivore, he accepted that he was not above his baser instincts. Like the kelp wrap, speaking with Aaravos was a treatment for an ailment.
It was easier to accept the relief he felt after their chats when they were appointments.
Except, when he wasn't speaking to Aaravos, he had… few other forms of engagement. He had his memory crystals - he was almost certain he had memorized the history of Katolis by now, he'd viewed the lecture so many times by now. His scattered memories of time with his children were starting to leave a hallow ache in his chest the more he watched them.
When was the last time Soren had looked at him without fear? Had Viren gotten so preoccupied with his work that he had forgotten to be a parent? He tried to remember the last truly kind thing he had said to his son - and came up blank.
The older they had gotten, the better able to take care of themselves, the more he had focused on Katolis. On how to protect them from Xadia. How to create a better future. He'd thought his children understood that - Claudia certainly did, following in his footsteps, supporting him at every turn.
But… seeing the way dark magic had wrecked his body, should he have encouraged that?
And Soren. Soren, who looked so much like his mother - who acted like her, too. He'd wondered how a child of his had ended up so… dense - with amusement when his son was young, and increasing exasperation in recent years. But the answer was obvious - Soren was like his mother; a little rough around the edges, but endlessly optimistic, seeing the best in others... taking too long to realize when they didn't deserve his love.
Left with nothing but memories and hindsight, Viren was starting to feel something he had never had time for before - regret.
"This is unusual," Aaravos remarked, putting away a memory crystal, "Twice in one week? I'm flattered, little fish."
The mer felt… strangely morose, merely grunting an acknowledgement before circuiting the room for what must have been the hundredth time.
The cecaelia watched him curiously, noting the change without remarking on it.
And it became a new routine - for another month, Viren would continue their weekly chats - and then one or two more days, he would simply… exist in the same space. He properly explored the space, with the occasional remark from Aaravos - sometimes snark ("I do not let others in my bed lightly, but I will make an exception for you."), other times helpful ("There may still be a few bottles of spirits in the bottom cabinet there, if you care to imbibe."), but usually mundane.
Somehow, even without conversation, just knowing there was someone else nearby eased the ache.
And then the cecaelia had to ruin it.
"I am going to use some Star magic I have not in some time," Aaravos said, on one of the days that usually passed without much conversation.
"I fail to see what that has to do with me," Viren replied, watching his memory of Harrow's coronation with… complicated emotions.
"I just did not wish to startle you," the cecaelia said, smirking.
The mer huffed - but the amused tone made him place the crystal aside.
On the other side of the mirror, Aarovos closed his eyes, and drew a complex rune in the air with all four hands. There was a thrum Viren could feel from his side - and he watched in amazed confusion as a glowing, spectral copy of the carnivore seemed to emerge from the man's body.
Then he almost darted out of the room in surprise when it swam through the mirror.
The spectre opened his eyes, then smirked as his eyes landed on Viren.
The mer glared, cautiously forcing himself to approach the apparition, "What is this?"
"Astral projection," the cecaelia replied, holding out an arm for inspection, "Something like an advanced illusion."
Viren hesitated before approaching closer. It was easy to forget, through the mirror, that Aaravos was almost three feet longer than he was. The size difference was… imposing, up close.
Still, refusing to be cowed, the mer reached out - and found his fingers passing through the cecaelia's arm.
"See?" Aaravos said, with that damnable smirk, "Nothing to fear."
"I was not afraid," Viren scoffed, emboldened to swim around the illusion, studying the carnivore.
"Of course not," the cecaelia replied, turning his head to watch the mer, but otherwise remaining still.
Viren huffed again at the condescending tone, apprehension dissipating as he went to retrieve the memory crystal from earlier. He had no idea what Aaravos had planned, but since the projection would be unable to physically affect him, it hardly worried him.
The cecaelia chuckled at his indifference, and went to explore the Sanctum.
The mer could see that the carnivore's physical body remained, appearing meditative on the other side of the mirror. Thinking nothing more of it, he went back to watching his memory.
The implications hit him later.
"You are looking much better," Aaravos remarked, projection watching him apply the treatment for his dark magic corruption, "You could probably make the treatment three times a week rather than every day."
"Must you follow me everywhere?" Viren sighed, doing his best to reign in his irritation. That would be just what the cecaelia wanted, after all.
"Would you rather I did not?" the carnivore asked, tilting his head with a secret smile, "With how often you have been coming to see me, I thought you were feeling lonesome. But if you ask me to leave…"
Viren… paused, trying to summon the will to dismiss the cecaelia.
Aaravos continued to smile, saying nothing.
The mer huffed, and continued his work with more fervor.
The carnivore chuckled, "You were very expressive before, little fish, but even more so with your eyes back to normal."
"What?" Viren asked.
Aaravos arched a brow at him, "Your eyes. They are no longer black."
The mer opened his mouth to say something back, then huffed again, ignoring the statement.
"Ah, of course," the cecaelia mused, "You do not have another mirror to see yourself. Eyes are usually the first thing to recover - as they are the last to remain corrupted."
"How many mer have used your treatment?" Viren asked.
"Many," Aaravos replied, "Though, while under my tutelage, it was rare for them to become as corrupted as you - they would use the treatment from the start," the cecaelia reached out, a hand passing touchlessly through the mer's hair, "You can expect your hair to return to normal last. Well, closer to normal, in any case."
The mer leaned away from the non-touch, finishing with the wrap, "And were you so… hands on with all of them?"
"Only the ones I particularly liked," the cecaelia smirked.
Viren rolled his eyes, "I'm flattered."
"You do not believe me?" Aaravos asked, "Should I be more specific?"
"About what?" the mer sighed, flipping an hourglass with twenty minutes worth of sand to mark the time. He slid it into an indent on the counter made for such a purpose.
"Why I like you, little fish," the cecaelia teased, resting his chin in one hand as he affected leaning on the counter.
"Spare me you inanities," Viren said, keeping his eyes on the falling sand to ignore the carnivore.
"Inanity?" Aaravos mused, "Then do you believe there is nothing about you to like?"
"I believe," the mer said, glancing over to glare, "You will say whatever you think will get the best reaction out of me."
"Should that mean it is nonsense?" the cecaelia asked, shifting to float above Viren, looking at him upside down, "Would you believe I was lying if I were to say I greatly respect your intellect?"
The mer shifted back, crossing his arms uncomfortably. He was well aware of how intelligent he was - he and Harrow were friends, but that wasn't why he had been the high mage of Katolis.
Aaravos completed his arc to Viren's other side, leaning close, "You are ridiculously stubborn - almost to the point of stupidity. Especially in admitting your own feelings."
"That is hardly a compliment," Viren huffed, forcing himself not to move back again. He would not be chased around by an illusion.
"Then it is good I am not complimenting you," the cecaelia smirked, "I am not obligated to hate your faults - nor admire your strengths. For example, your determination to follow the rules to protect people who allowed you to sacrifice yourself is admirable, but terribly dull."
The mer glared, "And I suppose caring for my family is equally dull?"
"No, that's as it should be," Aaravos shrugged nonchalantly, "Your fear that I will harm them is misguided, but I do not begrudge you that."
"Thank you so much," Viren replied flatly.
The cecaelia reached out one spectral hand, and affected poking the other man's nose, "The way you pretend to be unaffected in order to seem in control is cute."
"Cute?' the mer asked, arching a brow. Even setting aside the dark magic corruption, Viren was well into his forties - well past the age of being found cute.
"Cute," Aaravos confirmed, moving away, "As is the way you steal glances at me when you think I am not looking."
Viren huffed, looking away from the carnivore. Of course he stole glances - he could not let the cecaelia harbor some false notion that he… well, in any case, the stars on the other man's skin were simply distracting. Though it seemed that trying to hide his unfortunate fascination had the opposite effect of his intent.
So, perhaps with a bit of petty spite, he turned back and studied Aaravos openly.
This did seem to catch the cecaelia off-guard - if only for a moment. Then the usual smirk returned as he moved back a little, "Do feel free to look, Viren - I am not shy."
The mer snorted, thinking, Clearly.
But still, Viren couldn't pretend the carnivore wasn't… gorgeous. Aaravos was gorgeous, and denying it was a fool's errand. The cecaelia was poised and elegant, and the ethereal nature of his projection only added to his enigmatic charisma. He always seemed exactly how he wished to appear - comfortable with himself and his environment Viren had never been.
Viren had always been proving himself - proving himself useful, proving himself loyal, proving himself caring… always proving himself, in every way.
And in the end, what did it get him?
The mer looked back to the hourglass bitterly, a hot spike of petty jealousy in his chest at the simple ease Aaravos projected by virtue of his existence.
"Have I managed to upset you without speaking, little fish?" the cecaelia asked.
"No," Viren lied, and the other man let him leave it at that.