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DESPITE SEBBI begging them to quit their fussing, neither of them would. Abby immediately went to the stove, flicked on the burner, and began a pot of tea. Lucy led Sebbi by the arm, to the bench around the table, flinging trays of dead-appearing, though not truly dead, Abby had assured him, plants onto the ground. The plants' veined, purple leaves folded in on themselves as if saddened by their displacement. Perhaps they'd been enhanced to have emotions. In which case, Sebbi felt bad for being the reason they now sat on dusty, rutted floorboards, beside a pair of muddy, awful square-toed shoes with braided gold laces - Lucy's shoes, undoubtedly.

Lucy forced Sebbi to sit. 

"You really needn't–"

Abby turned to face him, beaming. A pleasant change from her earlier sobbing, though they'd all been rendered sobbing messes out on Ean's streets. "It's no problem." Her eyes flicked to Lucy's face. "Open a window, would you? It's so stuffy in here after being away for so long."

"I will, Love," called Lucy, who had moved on to the living room and carried a pile of tunics in his arms. They were all gold-colored, or gold-trimmed and without collars. Stitched abominations, more like. Lucy threw the heap beside the fireplace, after removing them from the fireplace, the workload minimal, the effort non-existent.

Such familiarity brought a smile to Sebbi's face. The Wizard Kellog had been right. All he had to do was trust in them. And like Red had said, he just needed to prepare to be hugged.

He'd arrived in Ean that morning and with him, had come the rain. He meandered down the roads and alleyways, after never really being there. He knew of Abby's plant shop, and of Lucy's many disruptions to the city's routine. But he'd never walked down the sloping streets, or past the factory districts to glimpse the giant steel stacks releasing blue-tinted smoke into the air. He never rode a cable-car, though that day, he'd almost been knocked over by one.

He regained his bearings shortly after being yelled at to stay three paces from the curb, lest he wanted to be flattened. Another of Ean's citizens, squatting under the awning of a tool store, added that Sebbi would have made for a very pretty stain on Ean's streets.

Flattery was not an Eanian's strong suit. Innovation and invention were. He took a set of moving steps to reach the top of the Western Slopes, while a bell rang out. It fell across the entire city, and Sebbi wondered how such a sound could carry that far and still sound so near, as though it came from overhead.

Abby's plant shop had come into view after he rounded a bend, mindful - very mindful - of the curb and the path of the cable cars. It was a little shack, fenced in on all sides. There was porch, that leaned, and gutters, that leaked. The entire house groaned. Two boxes sat on the lawn, filled with browning sprigs of something. The buds were black on the stems and he didn't know if that'd been intentional or a failing of Abby's ability. As much as she loved plants, they, or maybe more accurately, the growing process, didn't feel the same.

He reached down, grazing the leaves of the plant with his fingertips. He was touching what Abby had touched, what she had undoubtedly toiled over for hours and that realization had him grinning, wildly and stupidly, his heart feather-light, and ready to spring from his chest and take flight.

Taking a breath, Sebbi stepped away from the flowers, and marched the rest of the way to the house. The porch planks bowed under his feet as he stood face-to-face with the door. A sign, hung askew, read: "Closed Until Further Notice."

He sighed, his fist, raised and poised to knock, falling back to his side. He tried to get a peek inside, but the window was covered in curtains, and though there was a crack between them, it was small and dark.

He turned, hands in his pockets, chewing on his cheek.

Red and the Celes's crew had been kind enough to give him money, but he'd used most of it on his tram ticket and upgrading his compartment to a suite. Every cat liked a treat, once in a while, he supposed, his lips curling upward.

Sebbi thought about sitting at one of the inns he'd passed, but he feared missing them. After traveling for so long, the desire to see Abby and Lucy had become unbearable. He wanted to see them as soon as he could.

Settling on the porch, rain misting his face, and sticking his hair to his face, he decided he would wait.

He had waited. A second bell had broken over him, and the rain had grown fiercer. His clothes stuck to every curve, every cut of muscle, and he'd started shivering.

He wished he was a cat, if only for his thick coat to fend off the chill.

Deciding he didn't want his first meeting with Abby and Lucy resulting in him fainting from fever, he got off the steps and headed toward the inn at the bottom of the slopes.

Halfway down, and careful to avoid puddles and speeding cable cars, he had seen her and it looked like she had seen him first.

All his worry and fears rose to the surface. They screamed at him to run away. That this was a bad idea, she would reject him. Lucy too. They'd be angered, their grief, their suffering, cheapened because he'd not really been dead.

He fought against his instincts, keeping himself grounded. With the Wizard's voice rattling around in his head telling him to trust in them, Sebbi had advanced forward, one wobbling foot in front of the other, the scariest step he'd ever taken.

And then, he took no more, because Abby was in his arms, wrapping him up. He felt only her warmth, and heard only her words, his own inner monologue that had him questioning everything, banished to the dark.

Welcome home.

He had been an idiot, hadn't he? Doubting her, when all she'd ever done was love him. It was his turn, to love her with everything he had, and so he returned her embrace, holding her in his arms, no longer afraid of hurting her.

Lucy had welcomed him after and now—

Lucy stooped over a few wet logs in the fireplace, poking at a blackened piece of scrap paper. His fifth attempt at getting a fire started. Sweat slicked his forehead.

Sebbi snickered. "Wet logs will never catch."

Lucy flicked his white-streaked hair out of his eyes and snorted, chin held very high. "It'll light if it knows what's best for it. Its warmth will dry a very exquisite king."

"King?" That was news to Sebbi.

Lucy's mouth pulled taut. He straightened, pulling the hem of his tunic down. "Ah, yes. I..." He smoothed down his shirt, though the front was immaculately starched. "You were...gone and–"

"Reven's not resigned yet?"

Lucy cocked his head and grinned. "I'm sure he's thought about it, but no."

"And Aelurus has yet to crumble?"

Lucy shook his head. "As much as the Moonborns might enjoy such a spectacle, no. Aelurus remains intact."

Sebbi reached up, stroking his chin. "You've exceeded expectations, then." A smile emerged on his face, and Lucy encouraged by the sight, smiled in turn. No more was said on the matter, no more needed to be said. Sebbi had died, Aelurus needed a new ruler. It only made sense it would be Lucy, being the last of the Crescent Moon bloodline. 

What had been unexpected was Reven's continued service to the crown. Sebbi thought surely, after one night in Lucy's presence, he would forfeit his position and scurry back to Hewn territory. The fact Lucy hadn't run the advisor off meant that Lucy was trying his best, and Reven knew that.

Abby took a seat beside Sebbi, sliding a steaming cup of tea across the table.

"Brownbark," she said, resting her elbows. "It'll warm you up while Lucy fails to light a fire."

Lucy threw a handful of paper onto the logs, urging them to light. The papers only smoked, the wood only sputtered. Lucy dropped the poker, tossed his hands into the air, and with a curse, joined them at the table.

Abby was quick to serve him a comforting cup of tea, and pat his back. "You tried."

"I do not try, love." He harrumphed. "I do."

"Yes," she said, taking her own cup and bringing it to her lips, "but what you do best is be handsome, and I doubt some wood is capable of responding to that." She sipped deeply, a sigh escaping her lips. Steam rose up, wetting her face.

Lucy gulped his tea, brow furrowed. Between sips, he speared the fireplace with spiteful eyes.

Sebbi glanced at his hands and no one spoke, the silence liberating, not smothering. They drank comfortably until the tea pot was empty, and Abby was putting a second one on the stove.

"I dreamed this," Sebbi said, fingers running along the curve of his cup.

Abby turned to face him. Lucy's eyes flicked to his face.

Sebbi shook his head, hair falling around his ears. It was still damp, the air causing his ends to curl. "I guess I didn't dream it," he kept his gaze on the cup, "I had.." He swallowed. "I had died. And the Hollows it–it showed me what I wanted most." His head raised, his gaze landing on Abby. "You were brewing tea." His gaze slid to Lucy. "And you were doing your best to make it impossible for Abby to brew her tea." A sharp almost pained laugh spilled from his lips. "We sat around this table, and we ate, and it was supposed to be enough." He ran his fingers along the table, wishing he had claws to rend the wood. "It wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough. There's no replacing this."

Abby moved and took a seat beside him, eyes glistening.

Lucy snorted. "It took you dying to realize there's no replacing me?" He placed a hand to his heart, and stuck out his chest. "Of course there's not. I am a masterpiece, anything less, a crude imitation."

At this, Abby rolled her eyes, and Sebbi chuckled.

Lucy leapt to his feet and pounced. He joined Abby and Sebbi on their bench, arm looped over Abby's shoulders. "Love, do you not think I'm a masterpiece?"

"I think–" Her gaze flickered between the two brothers, her eyes pleading with Sebbi for help. Telling Lucy the truth, which was sure to upset him, would result in hours of sulking. However, placating Lucy's ego would only cause it to grow and there was already too much of it for such a tiny house. Neither outcome was ideal. "I think Sebbi--" Abby started. So avoidance was her strategy, smart.  "--must be exhausted and–"

"Oh," said Sebbi bringing his cup to his lips, behind which he concealed a smirk. "I'm fine." Abby winced. "Had a nap on the tram ride over." His eyes met hers, and her face immediately ignited, no scrap papers necessary. "Please, Abs, tell Lucy whether you think he's a masterpiece."

She glowered, Sebbi suppressing a chuckle.

"Love?"

Behind them, the tea kettle whistled. Abby almost knocked the bench over in her rush to remove it from the burner. "Can't answer," she called back over her shoulder. "Much too busy with tea. Needs my full attention so it doesn't end up burnt or bitter."

Lucy leaned into Sebbi. "She thinks I'm a masterpiece, that's why she flusters so." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"You are one of a kind, brother."

"And you," Lucy's face grew serious, his eyebrows low over his eyes, "did you really return because of us?"

"I did," he said, smiling as Abby pretended to mull over how heaped her scoops of tea leaves ought to be, "I couldn't leave behind those I love." The words slipped easily from his mouth, the ease of his honesty, surprising him. 

His words had carried, and Abby had heard them, and the spoon she'd been clutching, clattered to the floor, bits of dried tea leaves and bark sprinkling her apron.

Sebbi sprang to his feet, channeling his Aelurian speed, and hurried to Abby's aid. He knelt, picking up the spoon and offering it to her.

She took it, a blush staining her cheeks, and Sebbi, uncharacteristically brazen, grazed her fingers with his own.

Her face grew redder, her shoulders depositing themselves a hair's breadth from her earlobes. "Thanks," she mumbled, whipping back around to face the counter. She did nothing but face the counter, her gaze near ready to burn holes through the stone. 

Lucy, eyebrow lifted, raised his teacup in a fake toast. "I was wrong, dear brother." He crossed his legs. "You have changed. A bit."

"I guess I have," said Sebbi, patting his pocket where the ribbon he'd made from the Wizard's pocket square, rested. He would wait to give it to Abby, when the moment was right.

"Let's have stew." Abby turned around, tea pot, and new cups in hand. Her face was smooth and untroubled, though a hint of red colored her neck. "Tonight, to celebrate."

Lucy's eyes glittered. "No onions?"

"Double the amount of fish?" asked Sebbi. Nothing ruined a good stew like an overabundance of vegetables.

Abby laughed, and it was like the room brightened. "Very well. Double fish, no onions."

"And wine!" Lucy slapped the table. "Can't celebrate without wine."

Abby's expression darkened briefly. "Fine, you can have your wine."

"You're the best, love!"

She shook her head. "Axion should be here soon. He was with us when we arrived." Her gaze drifted over to Sebbi. "I imagine he wanted to give us some time alone."

Lucy snorted. "You can't possibly be insinuating that shadow stain is compassionate or thoughtful."

Abby smacked him. "He is," she offered quietly.

Lucy's lips hardened into a line. Clearly he wanted to say more, but he was holding his tongue, showing more restraint than Sebbi thought possible.

"Margo will be here later." 

At the mention of the mouse wizardess, Lucy perked up, his mouth softening. Sebbi's heart pounded and a grin he was unable to control rose to his face. He was excited to see her again and to keep his promise. A cart-load of cheese. He wasn't Aelurus's king anymore, and without the resources of a realm to rely upon, it'd be a hard task to accomplish, but he'd find a way. 

Gods, it felt good being back, and being able to keep his promises. 

"And Vicrum." Abby sped past his name like it was a horrible tasting potion they would digest without question. But it still left a sourness on Sebbi's tongue. He frowned. Lucy's jaw twitched.

"He'll be over, to return the spare key."

"And then he'll leave, immediately," Lucy spat. "I'll demand it and if he disobeys?" Lucy plucked the frilled, lacy trim of his tunic. "Then I'll have Kit stuff him inside a cell."

"He'll stay." Abby spoke through gritted teeth. "No dungeons. Got it, your highness?"

Lucy stalked over to the striped sofa and plopped himself down, legs hung over the curved arm. "Fine." He tucked his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. 

Abby's gaze dropped to Sebbi's cup. "More--" A loud snore rose up from Lucy's spot. A very purposefully loud snore. She cut Lucy a glare, and Sebbi heard a sound like rusty gears grating together. She mumbled something about a bonfire of gold brocade, and then addressed him, her voice sweet, a smile on her lips. "More tea?" 

Laughing, Sebbi raised her cup, the yellow-brown liquid steadily flowing from the kettle spout. He leaned back, as Abby returned to the sink, dirty cups in hand. Sebbi drank, the tea calming his nerves and warming his belly. 

It felt good, almost too good, finally being home.