Chapter Text
Taran had a favourite way to spend the morning:
A long, lazy start, Callum’s head on his chest, toying with his shoulder length red hair, his fingers brushing over Callum’s freckles. Nuzzled kisses every now and again, precious snatched moments of intimacy tucked away in their secluded chambers far away from the mayhem of the court.
And this morning began in just that way, Callum had woken first, he’d been studying a new selection of sheet music when Taran had awoken. Taran had read it over his shoulder yawning occasionally until he had been able to convince Callum to put it on the table next to his side of the bed. He pulled Callum down, close enough that they were sharing air, Callum huffed at the suddenness of the movement.
“Good morning to you too!” He laughed, as Taran kissed him, wrapping his arms around Callum’s back.
“It is a good morning, but I can think of a few ways it could be better.”
A little later, Callum's head resting on his chest, Taran was toying with Callum’s hair. Callum sighed contentedly, his hand resting over Taran’s lower ribs, fingers brushing back and forth.
Taran adored Callum’s hair. The depth of the copper was so very Callum, Taran loved running his fingers through it. Feeling the smooth texture as it passed between his fingers, feeling the silkiness of it. It was doing this, watching the strands pass, that he noticed something that made Taran’s stomach drop.
A single grey hair.
It was fresh growth, not long and it had gone unnoticed until this moment.
But a grey hair it was.
A sign of Callum’s mortality. How could this happen? He was not physically old, could something be going wrong? An error in the various enchantments that kept the few mortals dear to the folk young, perhaps?
Taran swallowed, he let the strands slip from his fingers, he began to simply stroke Callum’s hairline. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could, panic bubbling up like bile. He could feel a tremor in his fingers; he fought to keep his breathing regular. Callum did not seem to have noticed Taran’s panic, this was all Taran really wanted, he needed to understand what was happening without alerting his husband.
“Taran?” Callum asked propping himself up on an elbow, he pushed a stray lock of hair away from Taran’s brow. “Are you well?”
Taran nodded, not immediately sure he could speak.
“Are you?” Callum asked again, his lovely face creasing into a frown, he moved again, he was settled on his forearm, part of his weight on Taran. Taran took comfort from the gentle pressure.
“I am, I am merely considering the day ahead. What,” he took a second to think again, “what are your plans for the day, my love?” tucking Callum’s hair behind his ear, subtly assessing signs for any further grey. There were no other greys, Taran inwardly relaxed a little.
“I was going to meet the queen, and Niamh, to discuss further plans to bring in more mortal protections in the realm. I believe the king will be attending today. You know, you could be of some use in that?” Callum said looking Taran in the eye through his eyelashes, Taran enjoyed Callum’s attempts at seductive manipulation immensely, especially because it was unnecessary. Taran would do more or less anything that Callum wished.
“Oh?”
“Mm, perhaps you could work with the king to test the waters on how far protections could go? Get an idea for the limitations among the nobility, that sort of thing.” Taran contemplated this, he agreed that it would take some careful degree of diplomacy to get certain members of the court on board. He even agreed that his sway might help bring some of them inline, but none of that mattered in consideration of Callum’s grey hair. He would grant Callum anything if the aging process were upon him.
“I shall attend your meeting then.” Taran said brushing his thumb along Callum’s cheekbone. Callum blinked, he looked momentarily taken aback.
“You will?” He sounded surprised, as if he had expected Taran to resist. Perhaps in other circumstances he would have, but in this moment he could not.
“If it is what you wish?” Callum smiled down at him, pressing their lips together.
“It is, thank you.” Taran smiled faintly, his eyes drifting from Callum’s face and onto hair, definitely no further greys.
“You came?” Niamh Proudfit exclaimed upon hearing Taran’s non-mortal footfall. Taran enjoyed Niamh’s company, she rarely fell for his verbal traps and gave him much the same treatment. It was like sparring. The queen, despite being surprisingly intelligent, for a mortal, often dropped herself into them. Though Taran still enjoyed baiting her to see if she would argue back. Both such clever mortals but so different in their cleverness. The queen would learn though, of that Taran had no doubt, she had proven herself to have a keen understanding of their ways in many ways.
Callum was peering at him, in the sunlight Callum’s hair still cast a deep red fire around his face, there was no grey amongst it. When more grey took hold would it look like the silver of a blade amongst a fire? No matter what it signified it would be beautiful, it was Callum. Taran took a deep, steadying breath which he hoped would seem more like an impatient sigh and tore himself from his thoughts.
“Callum asked me to, so naturally I did, why is it so hard for you mortals to understand this?” A pang of guilt set itself off across his chest and sank down into his stomach like some off path enchantment, he did not want to risk including Callum in that statement. He was mortal, but he was Taran’s and today Taran felt far more aware of his husband’s eventual death than he had in many years.
“We thought you might find a way to avoid it.” The queen said her tone honest, she was standing by Niamh, they seemed to have been conversing, she was wearing her usual frumpy scholar garb. Taran wondered how the king could stand to see such unfaltering cuts on his queen. Taran suspected the king likely tried to convince her to embrace tailoring at all times, not just for occasions, but as yet had not won that battle. She must truly be wily.
The king was sitting at the table, he was leaning back against his chair, sipping coffee.
“I never doubted you, uncle.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe what you choose, dear.” Callum said, hastening him to the table. Niamh and the queen had made their way over too, sitting on either side of the king. The housekeeper was not here, perhaps he was sweeping.
“Now, as Callum may have mentioned we are attempting to strengthen the protections mortals receive in this realm. Fewer mortals wander in by accident these days - the world outside is ever changing and we have noticed a steady decrease in how many mortals enter faerie more generally. But that does not mean that those who do find themselves entering this realm should not be protected. The question is how and to what extent can we enforce this?” Niamh began; Taran resisted the urge to loudly exhale or stare at the ceiling. But this was important to Callum, he would see this through for his husband. Callum needed this, after everything, after Nora, after seeing countless mortals killed in so many horrific ways, the nightmares that Taran had held him through. For Callum, always for Callum.
“Mortals have been at less risk since the king and queen took the throne, but they are still at risk from small folk or nobility who disregard the queen’s mortality.” Taran had been summoned from his thoughts when Callum had spoken, Taran had looked at his husband and seen pure determination on his lovely face. Taran was not sure what was on his own face, but he caught the king watching him with…Taran wasn’t sure what the expression was, he looked like he was trying to comfort Taran.
The queen was nodding.
“The problem is far from unique to our realm, look at Lilja and Margret, Mord, Aslaug, and Ari, a whole village at risk from their Folk. Perhaps we cannot change other realms, but we can try to start a change here and hope it spreads.”
“Emily is correct, as we have covered before, all realms are dangerous, but we can start the change. Mortals would be protected, not hunted, not eaten or tortured, any that wish to stay ought not to be enchanted and any that wish to leave should be free to do so. But as Callum pointed out, the small ones do pose a problem, bogles specifically.” Taran was unsure if Niamh’s summary was for his benefit or for her spriggan who was grinning away as she wrote Niamh’s words.
“We could always just kill any that disobey until they understand?” Taran suggested, Liath gestured as if he had made this point and been ignored.
“I said similar.” He murmured
“No torture and no murder.” Callum said quietly, Taran sighed, exasperated.
“So, what then, you wish for help to understand how your plans would be received?” Taran asked, changing the subject. He was looking closely at the hairlines of the other mortals. The queen had several greys dotted about her head, some were long, standing out against her dark hair. Niamh had some grey showing up also, though she kept her hair short and so it was hard to tell properly. It followed though, Niamh was physically the oldest of the three mortals, followed by the queen and then Callum. Surely if mortal hair turns grey as they become elderly, it would make sense that older mortals had more. But the king did not seem concerned for his queen’s decay, in fact, Taran had never seen him pay any attention to the silvery additions to the queen’s hair.
“Yes, preferably without your usual wilfulness.” Niamh said. The queen gave a “hmph”, clearly, she thought so highly of Taran…really what had he done wrong?
Nothing.
Well, nothing much anyway.
Nothing that was not for the good of the realm.
She would understand one day, surely.
“Well, I suppose I'll do it.” Taran declared, next to him Callum’s face lit up, his hand reached for Taran’s.
“You have our gratitude, my love.” Callum said quietly. Callum’s reaction made it worth it.
“Hmmm, well I suppose I ought to get straight to that - right this instant.” Taran said, rising, he needed to get away from his husband, he felt on the brink of tears and Callum could not see that, he would ask what the matter was. His sweet, caring mortal. How foolish Taran was, and yet the panic had never really gone from earlier that morning, he had been distracted but now Callum was looking at him his eyes wide, so much emotion in them and Taran couldn’t breathe.
Callum looked as if he were about to say something, but Taran shoved back his chair and fled the room. Callum had certainly looked confused when Taran had briefly given his farewell to the table. Taran was also almost certain Callum had attempted to take back Taran’s hand.
Pain shot through his heart, he could not do this, he had to understand what was happening. He could not take enough air in, and his stomach felt in knots. He leaned against a wall on his way into the gardens. He would speak to one or two of the nobility, those he trusted, see what they could gleam and then after that he would go to Nora’s grave.
The Lady of the Gnawed Branches agreed to listen out for opinion, she had been a lady-in-waiting for Arna, first as queen consort and then as queen, she had fed Taran information when she could and for that Taran vouched for her. She was open to Liath’s rule, and not overly hostile to their mortal queen, she would make a useful ally for their rulers.
Lord Summer Berry argued a little, but he found incentive in that Taran knew he had been one of the attempted poisoners of the late king.
“I stopped you, and I let you live, tell me, why should I not kill you now, hm? You were useful to me, but if you are of no use, then what is the use in you?” Taran asked as the spineless noble attempted to run.
“My lord, I,” He stammered as Taran dragged him by the elbow, “I, please, I do not wish to involve myself.”
“You’re an incompetent traitor and I am not in the mood to entertain your pathetic whimpering, find it in yourself or find yourself dead.” A strawberry plant burst from the tip of Summer Berry’s nose as he tried to escape. Taran shoved him against the wall of the castle.
“Oh, very well, I’ll do it.” He said, Taran released his grasp and the noble scrambled away.
Taran sighed and righted his midnight blue cloak.
Spies in place Taran went straight to the gardens within which they had buried Nora. He dropped onto the bench, he failed to muster any hint of his usual careful grace, he just landed and stared at the ground. He let his face fall into his hands.
He knew, of course he did, how could he not know, it was always in his thoughts, that at the heart of it, Callum was mortal.
Mortals age and they die.
But they were supposed to have so much more time together. Callum was two-hundred years old, that was no age for a mortal who had married someone as powerful as Taran.
How could he be aging?
It did not even matter that he was aging, Taran would change his appearance right alongside his husband.
It was the finality of mortality.
It hit him again, and again over their marriage that he would lose Callum.
He also knew that he could not go on after that.
Death was not something Taran feared.
Life without love, without Callum, that was what scared him more than anything.
He needed that all-encompassing, deep, burning, bright love he felt for that man more than he needed air.
He took a shaking breath, for one of the few times in his long life he felt nausea. He swallowed it back, fighting the tears that were forming. He choked back a sob, when he looked up and Liath was stood amongst the trees, darkness-spawn cat in tow.
“Uncle,” the king gestured to the space next to him, “may I?”
Taran nodded. Liath dropped down, the dark one jumped up and sat on his lap.
“You’re behaving strangely, Callum was quite upset, you know? The way you left him there, I’ve never seen you like that with him.”
“He has a grey hair.” Taran said, voice not much above a whisper. Liath turned to look at him.
“Ah, I see, well, it is a shame, his hair is quite something.”
“Yes, I - what?”
“A shame for a grey hair to ruin the effect- is, that not what you meant?” Taran was looking at his nephew now. “Oh, it isn’t?”
“No, you know this surely - mortals, their hair turns grey when they become old and then they die.” Taran explained, how could this foolish infant not realise this.
“Ah, no, that - they turn grey for many reasons, uncle, age, yes, sometimes it is in their family, but also stress! Emily never used to be so grey, I noticed her go greyer after we became friends…hm, probably not connected. Stresses of the job, I’m sure, and she was already grey before from her doctorate, she took it all so seriously.” Liath rambled.
“What?” Taran shook his head.
“Grey is not a harbinger of death, uncle, Callum will be well.” Liath patted Taran’s hand. Taran exhaled, placing a hand on his stomach, grip on his shirt tightening.
“Truly?” How ridiculous that he was seeking reassurance from this child.
“Truly.” Liath said with a nod, he was watching Taran closely. “Perhaps you should speak to him, he did look positively puzzled when you left the way you did.” His nephew was stroking the dark one. The dark one was staring at him, they were still not at peace, he had fed her, stroked her, and really, that duel was entirely for the good of the realm not to mention to keep an oath, but the dark one was nothing if not capable of holding a grudge.
“I will…I should go,” Taran said making to stand. “Oh, I spoke to the Lady of the Gnawed Branches and Lord Summer Berry, they will feed information back to me in terms of the nobility, but the small ones are a different matter. Perhaps a job for our scholars?” Taran said over his shoulder, he was in the mood to help his nephew.
“They’ll enjoy that.” He heard Liath laugh.
Callum was lying across their bed, reading through the rest of the sheet music he had begun studying that morning. His hair was draped over the edge of the bed; he turned his head when Taran entered.
“There you are!” He said sitting up, confusion and concern all over his face. Taran made his way to him, he scooped Callum off the bed, hoisting him up, Callum gave a small huff of surprise as he wrapped his legs around Taran’s waist. Taran kissed his husband, there was so much to the kiss, so many emotions and feelings that Taran was not sure he could verbalise in that moment. “What - what is happening?”
Callum’s tone was surprised but happy. Taran sat on the bed, keeping Callum in his lap, torsos pressed together. Callum kissed him this time, his fingers making their way to Taran’s hair. Taran ran his hand down Callum’s back and back up, feeling the ridges of Callum’s spine. Callum’s fingers tightened, he clutched Taran’s hair, before he pulled back a little breaking the kiss.
“Not that this isn’t lovely, but please tell me what is going on, you’ve been strange all day.” Callum sat back a little, resting on Taran’s thighs.
“I have not!” Taran pouted.
“You have, my love, you barely argued with the queen and Niamh! Even when you agree with them you argue and if that weren’t enough, you pulled your hand from mine and fled the room.”
Taran dropped his head to Callum’s chest.
“I am sorry, I was deeply unsettled and could not remain in the room any longer. I had to get out.” Taran took a deep breath, inhaling Callum. Callum pushed Taran’s face up, Taran met his eyes. Callum brushed Taran’s cheekbone with a thumb. Taran dropped his head again, his forehead landing on Callum’s shoulder.
“My dearest love, what is it?” Callum pressed a gentle kiss against the pointed tip of Taran’s right ear. Callum was rubbing Taran’s back, he paused slightly when Taran took a shuddering breath but continued after a second. Taran realised that Callum seemed to be holding his breath, bracing himself, and Taran could not have his love worrying.
“This morning…I found in your hair a single strand of grey, only one, I have looked for more. I became fearful that it meant you were growing older. Not because it is a greater age, but because I do not want time to pass. I knew from the moment you chose to stay with me that I would not be able to live without you, but the fear, the pain, all of it, Callum - I will not live without you. It all became so crushingly real, I realised that I will lose you. And I cannot bear it.” Callum pushed Taran’s face from his shoulder. His eyes were difficult for Taran to read.
“Taran, you gave me your name, you trust me?” Taran nodded, a tear breaking free for the first time. “I promise you, I am not going anywhere, I will not leave you. And when the time comes, we will be together again, I don’t know how, but I know we will be. Do you understand?”
Taran blinked, more tears escaping, Callum wiped them away gently.
“I understand.” Taran whispered, Callum smiled sadly.
“Good.” He said as he kissed Taran’s nose.
“My nephew said to me that mortals do not always have grey hair to show age, he said it can run in families or be caused by great stress. I confess, I had thought it was the first sign of mortal decay.” Callum was watching him closely.
“Mortal decay, Taran!” Callum huffed, he was feigning offence. “My grandfather turned grey when he was thirty years old, his hair was less red than mine and it faded quickly, he lived for decades after, his hair was white by the time I was born! But, if you are asking whether I have felt more pressure as of late…then I have, for the first time in all my years in this realm, there is real chance of change. I am trying so desperately to help other mortals, and it is exhausting. I am less worried now you are helping also, but you know how much this means to me.”
“He truly went grey that young? And lived?” Callum rolled his eyes.
“Yes, on both counts.”
“And my helping with these plans will stop you feeling such exhaustion?”
“Most definitely and I am so grateful to you. And before you ask, I am not on the brink of death, a single hair means nothing, I am almost certain there have been others before that you missed.” Taran shook his head.
“I would have noticed.”
“You are not that observant.” Callum pulled Taran in to kiss him again.
“I’m very observant.”
“You are not.” Taran returned the kiss.
“I am!”
“Are not.”
“My love, I am a retired general, I am incredibly wise and observant.”
“Mm of course. Now, shut up and kiss me, oh wise one, preferably before I decay.”
Later, they were lounging on a chaise, Callum was resting his head on Taran’s chest while Taran stroked his hair. The single grey hair was still there, but Taran felt at peace with its presence. He would watch it, it was an enemy, but he no longer felt the crushing sense of Callum’s mortality whenever he saw it.
He would always resent the irony of their situation, Callum should have forever, they should have forever together, but that would not be the case.
However long they had together, that was all that mattered really. Because that meant love, and what else was more important than that?