Doe tried to hold his ground for as long as he could as Rhiannon advanced on him, stubborn and resentful, but finally she drew close enough that he took an unwilling step back. At first, Doe’s expression was just defiant, his face set in a little frown and his paws firmly planted and his eyes never leaving the she-cat’s. But the more she talked, the more Hywel snapped at her and seemed to change into an entirely different tom, the more she insulted him, the more she just stared into his eyes with that grey, taunting, snake-like gaze… After a while, Doe was looking slightly frazzled, his expression uneasy and his paws tottering back and forth uncertainly.

For the first time, all the issues in his own life seemed inconsequential and naïve, like he’d been amplifying all his stories and then here, now, was a true one - truly dark secrets, murder; he didn’t have anything like that. But almost more than the actual facts, he was most unnerved by the revelation that there was something deeper to Hywel than his easy smiles and constant laughter. Doe had been working under the assumption that Hywel was more or less just what he appeared to be on the surface - and maybe that was why he’d been so hesitant to let things go deeper. It was a big reason as to why almost all of Doefreckle’s relationships had ended in disaster, either physically painful for him or emotionally scarring for them both: he had to have a hint of tragedy. Of violence, of darkness, of unpleasant histories. Hywel had always just been too kind, too pure. He’d entertained the thought - more a joke with himself, really - of one day being able to rile Hywel up enough to hurt him, but until this moment he’d never actually seen him angry. He hadn’t exactly thought it was possible.

So, as outwardly freaked out as Doe looked - more from the unpleasantness of being accosted by a she-cat than anything - and internally confused as he felt - because this was a hell of a lot to take in - Rhiannon was ultimately doing herself a disservice. Because all it was doing was making Hywel more interesting and showing Doe that he’d clearly judged him too harshly too quickly. But he couldn’t very well say that, because a) he couldn’t think clearly with Rhiannon in his face and all of this wouldn’t properly process for another few nights, b) Hywel didn’t exactly know that Doe’s tastes leaned towards sadomasochism and the macabre, and c) it just wasn’t the sort of thing one said, as outrageous as Doefreckle had the capacity to be.

So, instead, he took Rhiannon’s bait - because he doubted he’d get the story from Hywel and now that he’d had this new side of him dangled in front of him, he wanted to know; and also because, even though Hywel had clearly had very good reasons for living this pseudo-double life, especially because they weren’t serious, Doe was still slightly annoyed at having been excluded, and at having been mistaken for someone who couldn’t handle brutal things. And he sort of wanted to punish him, as childish and irrational as that was. But really - this was possibly the first time that Doe had met a tom who didn’t want to hurt him, he wanted, or at least had wanted, to hurt others. That was both uniquely interesting to him - and, since his insipid self-promise to swear off violence against himself, the closest he could get to satiating that particular part of himself. He wanted to know why! He wanted to know what had happened! He wanted to know what Hywel had done!

God, Rhiannon had really misjudged Hywel’s little boyfriend.

“What… what about your dad?” he asked, and his voice was so convincingly soft, so convincingly timid and frightened. He looked between Hywel and his sister, his eyes all the while impatiently urging one of them to spill the freaking tea.

God, this was the best day of his life.

Of course this situation was incredibly upsetting for Hywel, and Doe knew he should have been more sympathetically guilty, but all he could think was how attractive he was when his voice changed, getting slightly deeper and more forceful, and he lost his temper. When he admitted, in that quiet voice, ’you’re right. I did kill someone’, Doe shivered involuntarily. But then Rhiannon was rounding on him again and Doefreckle had to slip back on the frightened, innocent look that had given way slightly to bewitched eyes and a dry mouth. He just stared at her as she talked of trained little soldiers and crusades and patricide - and all he could think of how much he’d fantasised about ridding his life of his own father when he was young.

And then Rhiannon’s claws were gripping his face. Doe froze - but, aside from the obvious surprise at the suddenness of it, not with fear. As her claws brushed down to his throat he had to hold back a little shudder, hoping that his wide eyes and shallow breaths would be mistaken for trepidation and not for what it really was. Wouldn’t want to hurt this pretty one the way you did back then, hm? - he wanted to argue, no, no, you can do that. He definitely wasn’t into she-cats, and especially not this one, but holy hell, with her biting her lip like that maybe he could get into this— and, the moment was over. Doe tried not to look visibly disappointed when Rhiannon removed her claws from his cheeks. Usually he was funny about injuries on his face but— shut up! Shut up! He wasn’t doing that anymore.

As the siblings continued on with their fight, Doe stood there quietly brushing his broken paw back and forth over his throat until the last of the claw-prick tingles faded away. This was an absolute whirlwind. Ceremonies, Samhain, high ranks, sacrifice - to a half-starved adventurer like Doe, these were words woven of goldthread. Fairly certain that no one was paying attention to him, he allowed himself to stare outright at Hywel, his eyes far more interested, far more appraising and intrigued and intent, than they ever had been when he’d thought he was just a sweet face with a soft heart. Without knowing it, Rhiannon had just knocked down one of the last barriers keeping Doe distant and the two of them apart. Now, with the first tantalising sliver of truth out in the open, something deeper was back on the table. With Doe so good at compartmentalisation, now one of the little drawers unlocked and beckoned, labelled ‘love: permitted.’

He didn’t want to interrupt, but quite honestly all he wanted to do was get Hywel away somewhere private right now.

When Rhiannon turned to him to deliver her last jibe - really, she had only one insult and it centred around his prettiness, so he was starting to feel vaguely complimented - Doe met her eyes with a bewildered, wide-eyed gaze, his mouth open slightly like he’d forgotten to close it, and it was only half acting. He didn’t snap out of it until she was just about to turn away, when he finally cobbled together enough poise after the shock of everything to give her a tight, sneering sort of smile, faintly defiant, like he was saying yeah, you will see me again.

And then there was awkward, heavy quiet. Doe stood behind Hywel where he’d been the entire encounter, just watching him a little apprehensively and waiting for him to speak. He didn’t want him to be upset, but at the same time he didn’t want him to dismiss him now under some illusion that he wouldn’t want him anymore - so he waited, slightly uneasy and hesitant to be the first to speak. When Hywel finally broke it and then trailed off, Doe limped forward tentatively and brushed against his side, stopping beside him and looking up at the side of his face. “It’s fine,” he replied, his voice low and quiet and laced with the sort of jokey amusement that one uses at a wake to try and get the other mourners to chuckle at their own grief. “My daughter wished me dead the other day - there’s nothing like family to bring out the worst in each other. I’m sure you two will make up.” It wasn’t at all the same as murdering your father to save your sister from some sort of sacrificial retribution, but Doe was trying to use the normality of his example to show Hywel that his life, however dramatic or violent, was still just a life and that he’d treat it as softly as any other. Adding quickly with an embarrassed little laugh when he realised he’d left out a key piece of information, “oh, and I have children by the way.” In the aftermath of such chaos, this moment felt quiet, close, simple.

Brushing his cheek against Hywel’s, he tilted his head towards what he didn’t know was a large museum, closed for the evening, surrounded by great, round Greek columns of white marble. The bright orange sun of the early evening made them glow and pooled on the wide ledges of marble between them. “Would you like to go talk?” he asked softly, and the way he looked up at Hywel wasn’t fake at all. With all this now out in the open, he felt his heart truly opening.

He supposed, too, that it was time time for him to tell Hywel the truth about his own death, if they were going to be setting their paws on a new path of honesty.

Really? Doefreckle nodded quietly, his smile gentle and self-assured. He was happy to take the lead here. "I feel like you have some underlying issues with being ghosted you might need to work through," Doe laughed as he limped along at Hywel's side, easing him towards the colonnade. He sat down in the cool shadow of a Corinthian column, the orange sunlight only a breath away from his paws. "No, I'm not going to do that. One of my past dates ended up using me to try and gain control of SummerClan, and then he murdered my son - so that's really the baseline level you need to try and avoid. He was from the League, too - so, really, the fact I'm still hanging around with you at all must show I like you at least a little. Another one - what did he do? Oh, he drugged me for a week and broke my paw for the second time. I could really go on here, Hywel." Doe grinned. The casual way he said it all, with a faint laugh in his voice like he was just sharing funny stories that had happened on holiday, was both faintly tragic, because it had become so run-of-the-mill for him despite how horrible he knew it was, and showed that he really, truly was the forgiving type. "He was League, too. God, I really know how to pick 'em." He laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly.

Then, Doe's eyes softened. From where he sat in the shadows, his eyes dark and gentle and concerned, he reached out a paw and laid it on Hywel's. "You can tell me everything if you want to," he told him softly, "why you did it and who he was. But you don't have to. Either way, Hywel, I'm not leaving. You're kind. You're sweet and funny and generous and gentle. I don't care what else there might be under all that. God knows I'm not everything you might think I am - what kind of hypocrite would I be if I turned my back on someone I," he caught himself, swallowing like he'd choked on his own spit, "care about because of something from his past." He brushed his paw up from Hywel's paw to his foreleg, running it up the thick, soft fur and then back down before finally drawing his paw back to himself. He smiled up at Hywel, the faintest hint of sadness, of openness, glistening in his eyes. No more secrets - at least not from him.

When Hywel first began to speak, Doe hunched his shoulders into an unpretty but more comfortable sitting position as he listened, his brows pushed up in a sorrowful frown and his eyes never leaving Hywel. But as he went on, taking careful, shaky pauses to steady himself before he spoke again, Doe stood and slipped over to sit against Hywel's side, his body leaning into his thick fur. Tilting his head up, he rested his cheek on the lowest part of Hywel's shoulder, watching the side of his face as he continued and pressing occasional gentle kisses against his fur when the story ventured into darker places. When he started on the path of fathers, Doe drew his tail around and curled it with Hywel's, his own more or less engulfed by the other tom's pale fur. As slight as he was compared to Hywel, he felt protective of him right then, wanted to encircle and defend him from the world and all its suffering they'd both had far too much of.

As Hywel spoke of soldiers, of killing his mother's mate, Doe shivered involuntarily. Not from the horror of it, though - from the dark scene playing out in his head, windswept moors and grey skies and a son raised to kill turning his claws on his sister's father; from the black, spiteful violence in Hywel's voice; from his own shaky breathing and his heart thudding small and fast in his chest. Daddy made a soldier out of me. He barely held back another shiver.

When Hywel's voice dropped to a cold whisper, Doe turned his head from where his eyes had wandered unseeingly to the marble and to the highlands so many hundreds of miles away. His chin rested against the side of Hywel's shoulder. "And you don't need to," he whispered back. "You were protecting your sister. You were taking revenge for the life he'd forced you into and everything he'd taken away. I fantasised about killing my father for less than that." He tilted his head down, only his eyes showing over Hywel's fur as he whispered another soft kiss against his shoulder. His voice was just a breath against him. "Doesn't matter if you didn't enjoy it or if you did. Any gentle heart could have turned dark. And even if it never really lost it afterwards..." He brushed his cheek so softly against his shoulder, just the faintest suggestion of touch. His voice was still no more than a whisper. "I wouldn't mind."

Doe opened his mouth, and the words that almost came out were because I love you. But he shakily closed his mouth and they didn't. The casualness of it, how easily and simply they'd almost slipped out like they were nothing out of the ordinary, terrified him. Especially because they weren't true. They couldn't be true. Whatever he felt for this jaunt of theirs, it wasn't love. It never would be love. He was just a romantic, a stupid romantic. There was nothing in this moment but pillow talk - casual lovers were allowed that, that reassurance; they were allowed to care about the one they slept with, even if they were never going to love them. The way Hywel looked down at him with those soft, damp eyes jerked him out of the cold panic beginning to squeeze around his heart and make his eyes stare like a deer in headlights.

He let out a soft little laugh, brushing his cheek against Hywel's before looking up at him. "Trust me, if you knew how horrible I really am you wouldn't need to ask." The way he said it - his eyes gentle and unchanging, his voice soft and slightly husky, the whisper of a warm smile on his face, everything openness and tenderness - made it unclear whether it was a joke or not. It wasn't. As Hywel continued, Doe lowered his head again and rested his cheek against him. And then he let out a little hiccup of a laugh, a small grin spreading across his face. "I-I think if you ever end up marrying someone's mother and having kits with her then the one who really has to worry is me." He tilted his head to grin up at Hywel. It softened to a smile a few heartbeats later. "But aside from that, I don't think you need to worry, Hywel. You'll never be him." The way he was looking up at him - all that pure faith, that trust - gave him completely away, even if he didn't realise it himself.

He was falling in love.

"Mm." Doe's little hum turned to a soft, closed-mouthed laugh, a small smile tugging the edges of his mouth up. His eyes were closed, just savouring the feeling of Hywel warm and solid against him. When Hywel thanked him, his eyes stayed closed for a moment longer before he finally slowly opened them, tilting his head to look up at him. "Of course," he whispered back, his voice so quiet and faintly sad, faintly mystical, like if he spoke too loudly he'd turn this moment to mist, like that by whispering into this little breath of secrets he could make Hywel understand everything he felt and everything he wanted to say, like of course meant forever.

Blinking, he drew in a breath and let it out again, lowering his head and gazing down at the marble. The shadows had shifted, half his paws in gloom and the other in the sunshine. "If... If we're sharing secrets, I should tell you something, too. Honestly, there's a lot I should tell you, but if it's about my general personality then I guess - I hope," he added, looking at Hywel briefly - I hope you'll stay that long, y'know, like you do in a casual fling; how long were they going to keep pretending? - before turning back down to his paws, "you'll find all that out by yourself. Over time. But there’s one fairly big thing.” He looked down for a long time, gathering up the courage and trying to work out how on Earth to say this, before he finally drew in a deep breath and, looking up at Hywel, blurted out, “I died. For two years. Uh—“ He laughed, and it was somewhere between embarrassed at having to put the obscenity of this into words and frantically desperate for Hywel to understand. His ears had gone bright red from the stress of it. “I was leader, and then I was hit by a car - and because I hadn’t gotten my nine lives, I just… Well, I just died. And so then I was a ghost. I’m explaining this terribly. Uh— and then I came back.” He tilted his head to the side on back. “And I wasn’t leader anymore, because two years had passed - like I said.” His eyes glanced up at Hywel again before looking away. He didn’t want to see his reaction, didn’t want to see if he believed him or not. “And when I met you, I’d only been back for two or three weeks. So that’s why I was very - rude. Really, I’m still getting used to everything.” Now that he’d started telling the truth, finally saying it all to someone, he couldn’t stop. His voice sped up, so relieved to finally be getting it all out, so eager - so excited - to give all the secrets to the wind and let it take them, far away from him.

"Apprentices I’d given their warrior names, they were senior warriors now. I’d— well, a she-cat was carrying my kits when I died and now they were grown up, with their own lives. Borders had moved. Whole Clans were just gone. A tom… well, a tom I’d thought I’d spend forever with had a wife.” He laughed at that, slightly breathlessly. “And then, a moon or two ago, a tom who died just after me, who’d adopted kits with me, he came back, too. God, this is so much baggage.” He looked to the side, his voice quietening for a second like he was just now realising what he was saying. “I probably sound insane. But the point is - I don’t know how it happened, or why it happened to me, or to him, or to a she-cat I know in the League, but now that I’m back all I want is to give myself a second chance. To do everything right this time and not-not fall down the same paths I fell down the first time round. I was traumatised and I was horrible - this is my chance not to be. Or to be… to be less. You know? Of course you don’t. I’m sorry. I sound so nuts.” Without looking at Hywel’s reaction, he turned his head and buried his face in his thick fur with a defeated little groan, his cheeks burning. He didn’t want him to speak, didn’t want to see his face or hear whatever it was he was going to say. He just wanted to stay hidden in his fur and not face him.

He left out the details of Shadedsun - how Shaded had been in love with him, how Doe had realised he felt the same during his death and confessed his feelings when Shaded came back only to be rejected, how they were just now reconnecting with their one surviving daughter, how they’d always share an unspeakable bond and a soft, unknowable love story of their own, however sun-faded and unspoken it was now and however different it was to what he was telling himself he didn't feel for Hywel. He didn’t want Hywel to think he was unavailable, even if it really did offer the perfect excuse to duck away from his feelings for him and put an end to this forever - if Hywel even still wanted him at all after this. But now that he was faced with the prospect of Hywel rejecting him, even if he’d always been the one pushing back against it, all he wanted was the chance to keep this strange romance of theirs going. For another day, another week, another who knew how long. The chance to keep denying his love, to keep playing these games where they circled around and around each other and never truly said what either of them meant. But with his face hidden there in Hywel’s fur, he was already accepting the end of their relationship and the loss of him from his life. Maybe it would be for the better. He couldn’t afford the feelings he had for him, the confusion and the denial that came with them. Maybe the best thing would be for Hywel to pull away and reject him now. Doe was already beginning to draw away, his head still bowed; he raised his broken paw to wipe away a tear he hadn’t even realised had spilled over his cheek, looking down at it confusedly, a tired, numb sort of frown creasing his brow. He sniffled faintly.

Doe stared up at Hywel like he was seeing the moon for the first time, his eyes suddenly so young and so broken and so afraid to gaze upon him in case the cold, howling beauty broke his heart. He was lost, seeing what seemed so much like home for the first time. It was such a little, stupid thing, but when it came to his death and his return to life, no one had ever asked Doe if he was okay. They'd asked him what it had been like, why he hadn't gone to StarClan, what he'd done wrong - but they'd never just... they'd never asked, 'Doefreckle, are you okay?' He hadn't realised how much he'd wanted someone to ask him that question. Wanted someone to set aside their awe or their confusion or their fear to just ask the tom standing in front of them if he was alright. If he needed a hug. If he needed something other than to be whispered about like he was a carnival freak, an anomaly.

The way Hywel was looking at him now, like he'd disregarded the magnitude, the impossibility, of what he'd been through and was just looking at him, made Doe's throat close up. It was all he'd wanted. To be seen. It was like drawing breath for the first time. And in that moment, he knew this was different. This was love. This was what it was meant to be. "Not really," he laughed, and it was a little wet. It was the first time he'd said that. The first time he'd said he wasn't okay. The first time he'd admitted it to himself instead of just plastering on the smile and skipping on ahead. The relief of it was like a sob. To not lie, to find someone he could be ugly and frightened and truthful with - it was all he'd ever wanted. It felt like a dizzy dream that would be taken away from him at any moment and he found himself desperate as a starving man to hold onto it. "But I'm getting there. Thank you for asking." He laughed again and bowed his head slightly, raising his good paw to wipe tears from his eyes like he was surprised to find them there again. "I don't know why I'm crying." His voice had that tired, jokey quality that came from finally reaching the end of a confession and feeling so impossibly exposed, so drained by it. So happy. Where everything was open and everything was honest, just for that little span of time.

You're sort of like a miracle then. Doe smiled, and for once his humility was genuine. "I don't think so," he replied, glancing up at Hywel before dropping his gaze meekly. "If there is something only I can do, I hope it's bei..." He trailed off, the moment closing up again like a smoke screen - and for once, he didn't want it to. He wanted to say what he meant: I hope it's being with you. But it was like he didn't have any control over it, like his heart wanted to confess and his head wouldn't let him, like he had two warring sides inside him. He let out a sorrowful, regretful little breath, bowing his head further. He was defeated. "Thank you," he murmured again, his voice as sad as a child's. Sad as snow. He didn't look at Hywel as he leaned against him once more, just wanting that feeling of being held by the tom he wanted to love and be loved by before he took it from himself again.

Doe let himself sink into Hywel's touch like this was all he'd been searching for all his life, this quiet moment. At the tom's words, Doe smiled against his fur, gentle and sorrowful, his eyes still closed, and let out a breath; the feeling of inhaling again, the air bringing with it the scent of Hywel, was a delicate sort of magic.

And then something that had been prickling at him since earlier weaselled its way back into his mind. It was stupid to be bothered about it, to be insecure about it - vain little Doefreckle, with all his father's insults turned around and held up defiantly for things to flaunt, didn't do insecurity - but it had hurt at the time, and it hurt now. He didn't want to sound like a crazy side-piece looking for reassurance, because he was enough of a narcissist to know he was the goods, and it was so frustratingly embarrassing to feel that little flutter of jealousy reappear in his chest when he'd hardly ever known the feeling before meeting Hywel, but he... He had to broach it.

As much as he didn't want to, the unwillingness to pollute this gentle embrace with unpleasantness was stronger, and he drew back. "About what Rhiannon said..." Saying that made him sound even more crazy, because he didn't mean the earth-shattering murder of his father, he meant the stupid little bit that didn't matter. "About..." He looked down, avoiding Hywel's gaze, and licked his lips - self-conscious, frustrated, irritated by the indignity of needing to ask. Just say it; you know you're hot. But still he struggled, and was embarrassed by his struggling, and was getting more squirming and getting redder with arrogant, affronted annoyance by the second, shifting back and forth on the warm marble. "Me. Not being your type. And big... muscular," he said the word like he was mocking it, his brows raising and his head doing a little shake, "toms... being. Your type. Which I'm not, you might have noticed. Big. I'm not... small. But I'm not... big. Large. Yes... So, I just would-" He got his stride back now, his prim and proper, distant Doefreckle voice reappearing. "I'd just prefer it if we ended things now if my looks are going to be an issue."