Rising Sun Valley the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love

Being back in the Valley might have made him sad, once. This place holds memories, so many that any attempt to quantify them only leaves his head aching. Korei, Lily, Lennon... his siblings. All dead or gone now. His gaze wanders, and more names come to him. Outlander. Valette. He shakes his head slightly as he continues north, deciding he's had enough of this trip down memory lane. That isn't why he'd come back here.
Honestly, he isn't quite sure why he's here again. The betrayal that had taken everything from him once again had also taken the last of his desire to pursue anything he'd wanted in the past. That road has only led him to heartbreak, and he is done seeking happiness when happiness has never wanted him. Perhaps that is why he's back; there is no happiness here for him, but there is something else. He halts, eyes finding the sky, and notes the start of the sun's descent. He'll have to find shelter for tonight... and maybe tomorrow, he'll figure out what it is he's searching for.

They were unknowingly on the same wavelength it seemed because Midar had no idea why he was back here either. He had tried many times to return here and make a life that didn't involve Alarian, but each time his plans had fallen apart. He didn't want to try and be the version of himself that had no Alarian at his side. Each time he come here and tried to establish himself, he had taken off, disappeared into the darkness to sulk and stew and leave destruction in his wake. 

Yet here he was again. As with the times before, he had no real plan; he just walked and waited for something to happen—good or bad, he didn't care. 

Of all the things he expected, none of them even came close to what he saw drifting through the valley in the distance. Even from where he was, Midar knew him. The color of his coat and the scent that drifted by on the breeze made him swallow hard against the memory of the last time he had seen his mate. 

He trotted forward, stopping when he was close enough to say something. Alarian? he called out. What was he doing here? Where had he been? The most pressing question, though, the one that made the beast's heart race within his chest, was whether or not Alarian would be happy to see him.

A familiar voice calls his name, one he hadn't ever thought to hear again. Images of dark fur and violet eyes flash in his mind, but for a moment, he doesn't turn; for a moment, he can't decide whether he wants to. After all that he's lost, he isn't certain he wants to invite another tragedy into his life; another love waiting to be torn apart by circumstance. But Midar has always managed to find his way back to him, hasn't he?
He's turning before he makes the decision to do so, eyes finding his mate without a sound, lingering for several quiet seconds. Midar. I didn't think I'd see you again, His tone betrays nothing; one of the more useful skills he'd learned after he'd died for the last time — after he'd been reborn, transformed into something else. He wonders if Midar will love what he has become. For now, he waits, letting his former mate lead the conversation; perhaps he has something to say to him, something different from what he'd said last time they'd spoken.

Memories and feelings came flooding back—things he wasn't particularly keen on addressing right now, or ever. He had never moved on from Alarian, and he never would. Everything in his life boiled down to his love for the scarred man, and without him, he had been a wandering, soulless husk. He hadn't been able to stay in one place for very long or commit to anyone else because there was only one he could ever give his loyalty. And that wolf had left him.

Midar stared at him in silence at first, eventually taking a few more steps towards him. You left me, he finally said, the statement sounding more like a fact than anything else. There was no accusation or resentment, but beneath the surface there were waves of hurt and betrayal. He was too selfish to see that it was completely his fault. All he remembered was that he was being himself, and Alarian had suddenly decided he didn't like who Midar was anymore. The memory was warped by time and bitterness, which he was blinded to as well.

He isn't sure what he'd expected — not an apology, and in that regard he isn't surprised. Midar still doesn't seem to understand what had gone wrong between them. It's nothing new. He'd gotten tired of it after so long, and that was why he'd left. But time and tragedy have given Alarian a new confidence, a new patience with a situation that should never have been given either of those things. He ought to have given up on this for good, as he'd meant to — but seeing Midar here now, he can't. He understands now that this is a bond he cannot escape; soul-tie, twin flame, a curse on the core of himself. This is forever, and he refuses to let his forever be what he once thought it would.
I had to, He responds, voice firm yet tinged with sadness. I loved you, and I still do — but you were always too controlling. There are things I need in my life, and you're one of them, but you stood in the way of the other things I need. I didn't want to leave, but I was miserable. He moves forward, closing the distance between them until they're only a foot apart, perhaps less. I don't think I can stay away from you. I need this — but not the way it was. Things need to change, or I'll always be miserable. And he can't handle that. Not anymore.

He had to. He had to. Anger bubbled in his chest for a few moments until his next words quickly doused the fire. Alarian still loved him—the beast could deal with anything else as long as his mate's love still existed. Midar almost missed the rest of what he said.

He had been miserable, Midar stood in his way, he had been miserable, Midar was controlling. He studied the other man with what almost seemed like confusion. He had been miserable? Had he been miserable the entire time? Had he just been overpowered into keeping quiet about it? Midar was incapable of love in the traditional sense, but he did love Alarian in his own way, and the last thing he wanted to hear was that he had been miserable when they were together. 

The distance between them suddenly disappeared. It seemed they were both bound together by some outside force. Even miserable, Aliarian had still felt drawn to him. He wanted things to change, though, and the beast was wiling to hear him out. Change was difficult for him, but if it meant keeping his mate, then he would try. What needs to change, he finally said, resisting the urge to run his nose through the fur of the other man's neck; it had been so long since he had been able to do that.

Midar manages to surprise him, after all this time. He sucks in a breath at the unexpected response, hating himself for the relief that floods his chest. No matter how hard he tries, he's never been able to completely turn himself to stone; a weakness he fears he'll carry for the rest of his life. I want a peaceful life. Friends. Children. No more chaos or fighting or moving around — I want to choose who we give our loyalty to, and to be able to trust that you'll try to protect our lifestyle rather than destroy it. That's what I need from you. It's a lot to ask, but he doesn't think it's unreasonable, given their track record. He wishes he wasn't so hopeful for agreement.

What he wanted was kind of a lot. Peaceful was not a word he could ever use to describe his life, and it had been that way for as long as he could remember. He didn't even know how to do peaceful. And it wasn't even that he deliberately searched for chaos, either; often it seemed that chaos just followed him around and waited for an opportunity to blow things up. And children? He wanted Children? What would Midar even do with children. He would be more inclined to be nice to their own, but he wasn't exactly the warm, mentoring type. You want to raise children with me? he asked first. That was the easiest thing to nail down right now. Besides, he couldn't help but be somewhat intrigued by the idea of having pups with Alarian. The rest he was unsure about. What if Alarian picked some place for them to live that was full of weak-minded wolves; he refused to be loyal those types. If you do not want me to destroy things, then do not try and force me into a pack with wolves I will not get along with. By now, his mate should be able to tell which packs he would be able to at least tolerate. It wouldn't be good to expect so much from him so soon.

He nods in response to Midar's question. I've always wanted them — And I've had them, he thinks, but he leaves that out. His husband can never know that. And I want to be with you. So they'd be our children. As for his other concern — And any pack I choose would be for both of us. Somewhere we can be happy together. That's all I want. It isn't so much to ask, is it? He steps close, touching his nose to Midar's jawline lightly, a hesitant start to renewing their relationship. It feels nicer than he'd expected; he missed his husband's touch.

Part of him, a rather dumb part, wanted to ask why there was this sudden change of heart. The last time they had spoken, Alarian seemed rather disgusted with him. So what had changed now? Midar certainly hadn't; if anything, he was worse, now, after living for so long in the darkness that consumed him in the wake of their breakup. He wouldn't ask any of those questions, though; not and risk running his mate off again. The selfish part of him didn't give a shit why he was back—he just wanted to grasp on to his offering and never let go. 

He would a find a pack that suited them both and they would be together, and he supposed they would have children. It all seemed too good to be true. He hadn't even realized how hard he was clamping his jaw until he felt Alarian's soft touch there. He released a soft huff of air and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were swimming with emotion. He leaned forward and ran his muzzle through the soft fur of his neck, drawing in the familiar scent; he had missed it so much. His memories of the scent did not do it justice. I don't know if I'll be any good at raising children, he warned softly as he pulled back a little. He would try if that was what his mate wanted from him, but he couldn't promise he'd do a good job.

Midar returns the touch, and the last of Alarian's wariness melts away. He wants this, no matter how much it sounds like a bad idea. All that matters is that the two of them are happy together, right? He presses closer when Midar pulls away, burying his face in his neck fur. We'll figure it out, He murmurs, voice muffled. A few moments later, he adds, I love you.

He rested his head on top of Alarian's, pulling him impossibly closer. I love you, too, he quickly returned. He was quiet a few seconds before adding: Did you have a pack in mind? He wouldn't just join anyone; he wanted one that would leave him be and let him do his own thing without requiring much from him in return. He was never very good at following leaders blindly, especially ones he didn't respect.