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    “I can choose a husband?” High King Eliot asked again, blinking in shock. “A husband?"

    “If you’d like,” Dint said through his teeth. “And a wife, of course." 

    “What if I—” the High King’s eyes darted between Ted and Dint, fast as a bunny sniffed. “What if I only want a husband?”

    Quentin couldn’t feel his legs.

    When newly arrived High King Eliot Waugh meets Fillorian Quentin of Coldwater Cove, he makes a decision with lasting consequences not only for the two of them, but for the entire kingdom.

    (Or: A Love Letter to Fillory)

  2. 18 Oct 2020

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  3. 13 Oct 2020

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    “Quentin,” she said, voice going lower, soft. “My Q. Do you know how much we have both learned from one another? Millions and millions of times over.”

    Eliot couldn’t help but look up now.

    Quentin was wide-eyed and shivering as he hugged himself, magnetized to Julia. His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything in response. Her answering smile was almost teasing.

    “It wasn’t always good. We hurt, we fought, we clawed each other apart. Yet still, every moment was so important. Every moment of your teachings, of our love, the gifts you’ve given me, have built my bones and brought me here. An infinity of Quentin Coldwater.”

    “Are you—are you talking about all the other timelines?” Quentin swallowed. “Julia, I—”

    She shushed him, finger to his lip, a soothing sound. “But what I’ve learned from you, from this Quentin, from my Quentin, is that universe is unfeeling. It doesn’t care. It never will.” She took in a breath, tucking his hair behind his ear. “So we decide what matters. We are the light.”

    Sunbursts dazzled through the cut pattern stone. The glass from the windows refracted prisms on the ground. Julia gazed at him for a moment, reading his face like it held multitudes. She closed her eyes, like she was holding back tears and nodded, murmuring to herself in tongues unknown. She placed her hand to his chest and a glowing light shone between them.

    “What are you doing?” Quentin asked with a wheeze, feet scrabbling backward as his chest—his heart—pushed forward. And Queen Julia the Righteous—the Goddess—laughed, quiet and private. She kissed his lips once, gentle, before her light disappeared into his chest.

    “Just a minor mending,” she whispered.

    Julia wrenched her hand away and Quentin collapsed into himself, eyes shining with tears. He was silent and overwhelmed, as Julia held his face. After a long moment, his shaking hands reached out into the small space between them and clutched at the air, like he could hold it in his palms. Then he flexed them out—a hopeful, halting burst—and with the movement came a thousand little sparks from his fingertips.

    —His magic was back.

    Quentin sobbed, a wild and gasping roar, hands flying to his mouth. His eyes crinkled with a hidden smile, tears falling down over his knuckles. He was radiant; Eliot was transfixed. Behind them, blurred beyond his pinpoint focus, Fen was crying too, shoulders bobbing up and down. Penny held an arm around her, maybe smiling, maybe tearing up a little himself. But all Eliot could feel was the luminous smile on Quentin’s face, shared with the goddess, and the little bits of magic—a spark here, a swirl of dust there—flowing from his strong hands.

    Everything was going to be —

    Lace and silk scratched against Eliot’s brocade and a tiny finger interlocked with his pinkie. It snatched his focus from Quentin, down to Margo, who stood by his side. She tilted her face up at him, shoddy Lilly Pulitzer-yellow eyepatch and all. She pressed her lips into a tiny smile and elbowed him, sharp and teasing. His heart bloomed like a rose in June and he kissed her forehead.

    Everything was going to be okay.

    “How? How did you—?” Quentin asked Julia, through stuttering laughs and sobs. “Umber said he couldn’t. He said—”

    “Umber had completely lost sight of what a god was, what a god could be, if only they cared in spite of the universe. That, and...” Julia, the goddess, let out a long sigh and tilted her head “He’s a lying asshole.”

    Quentin let out a bright, bursting laugh. Julia joined him, wrapping her arms around his neck, as he dissolved again into sobs. He buried his face in her shoulder and Julia stood on her toes to whisper in his ear, for a long time, caught in their own world. Whatever she said calmed Quentin, the lines of his face serene and still, as he nodded and hugged her tightly.

    Eliot wasn’t curious about what was shared between them. He felt no envy.

    He only felt gratitude.

    The dawn was settling into day. Julia kissed Quentin on the cheek and stepped away from him, shooting him a wink and a finger wag.

    She wandered around the room dreamily, smiling up at the light. “And things will work for me and mine too. It’s all so simple now.” A giggle bubbled through the room, champagne fizz and soap suds. “Man, Umber was such an asshole.”

    The goddess spun around to face them with a tiny smile.

    “So,” Julia said, scanning her gold-lidded eyes across the mere mortals. “What the hell are you guys waiting for? We’ve got some work to do.”

  4. 13 Oct 2020

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  5. 10 Oct 2020

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  6. 07 Oct 2020

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  7. 06 Oct 2020

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  8. 05 Oct 2020

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  9. 05 Oct 2020

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  10. 03 Oct 2020

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  11. 01 Oct 2020

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  12. 30 Sep 2020

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  13. 27 Sep 2020

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  14. 27 Sep 2020

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  15. 22 Sep 2020

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  17. 16 Sep 2020

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  18. 11 Sep 2020

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  19. 07 Sep 2020

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  20. 03 Sep 2020

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  21. 01 Sep 2020

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