Chapter Text
As ancient as time itself
The seasons rule the world in careful turn
Spring wakes the earth
Summer keeps it alive
Autumn harvests its bounty
Winter guards its rest
None are meant to linger where another belongs
Spring always came when Winter had already wandered far beyond the edge of the world.
Lando himself looked like the earth waking from sleep, small white flowers tangled through his curls of brown hair, fresh blossoms blooming wherever the warm breeze brushed against him. The grass beneath his boots softened and brightened with every step, there was sunlight in his smile, in the warmth of his skin, in the life that followed him so faithfully.
It was his time to tend the earth, it was his time to bring forth life.
So the earth he tended, the life he brought forth.
The rivers loosened their ice, the winds fell to a hush, the first green shoots dared to rise from the sleeping ground with his arrival. He walked the fields, the flowers following in his wake, their buds unfurling slow and soft to the gentle morning sun at the touch of his fingers.
His did his work, and he did it well.
He wandered along the hillside, looking out across the land with quiet satisfaction. The hills rolled gently beneath a soft green haze, young grass stretching toward the horizon like a promise kept. Wildflowers had begun to scatter themselves between the blades, small bursts of yellow and white and violet. The rivers ran full again, the air carried the bright scent of new leaves.
He liked this part best.
The moment just before the Solstice, the moment just before the world changed hands again, the land stirred, the soil warm, every little form of existence waiting for the sun to climb higher.
Waiting for Summer.
Waiting for Charles.
Lando brushed a hand through the tall grass as he walked slowly down the hill, smiling faintly at the way the flowers leaned toward him.
He stopped near the riverbank and looked somewhere beyond the eastern lands. Charles should already be on his way. By now the air should have begun to change, the sunlight brightening into the deeper glow that only Summer could bring.
But the sky remained the same.
The wind stirred the leaves, but the warmth did not deepen.
He frowned slightly.
That was strange.
Charles was never late, not once in all the years the world had turned beneath their care.
Lando waited a little longer, listening to the quiet rush of the river and the distant song of birds in the trees.
And he waited…
And he waited…
The sun climbed slowly.
The warmth stayed the same.
And the place where Summer should have appeared remained empty.
🌸🌸🌸
After every Solstice, ever since the beginning of time, Spring and Autumn would cross the world to find the place for their earned rest. After every Solstice, ever since the beginning of time, Lando and Oscar would cross the world to find each other.
Spring and Autumn mingled together in a quiet valley where they touched in harmony. The ancient trees there stood half dressed in green and half painted gold, their branches heavy with both new blossoms and dying leaves. Colorful wildflowers scattered themselves through the amber grass. Hidden in the middle of the timeless grove, the waters of a lake reflected the blue sky of a spring morning melting softly into the warm copper light of autumn evenings.
It was a gentle place, a resting place. The world exhaled in quietude there.
And Lando loved it dearly.
Every year, when his work was done and Charles took the land into warmer hands, Lando would follow the winding paths through the hills until the valley opened before him once more. And every year, without fail, Oscar would be waiting.
Autumn lived in every part of him.
Yellow and orange leaves clung to the dark folds of his cloak as though not ready to fall away. His hair carried the color of fruitful earth after rain, his eyes held the stillness of wise forests just before winter. Wherever he walked, leaves drifted soundlessly from the branches above him, turning slowly in the air before settling at his feet.
Every year, when their eyes finally met again, Lando would smile, Oscar would move first, Autumn slowly wrapping Spring into his arms.
“You are late.” Oscar would say every time, the tip of his fingers touching a newborn tiny white flower threaded in Lando’s soft curls.
“I had half a world to wake up.” Lando would answer, resting his head on the safety of Oscar’s shoulder.
“I had half a world to put to sleep.” Oscar would reply, tightening his arms around Lando.
Then they would lay down on the grass by the lake, breathing together as if to make up for the months apart. Lando would tuck his face into the warm space made for him against Oscar’s broad chest, Oscar would gently kiss the top of Lando’s head. And they would rest, waiting for their calling to tend the world again.
This time, once more, Autumn drew Spring into his embrace.
“You are late,” Oscar said.
“Charles never came,” Lando answered.
This time, they didn’t lay down on the grass.
This time, there would be no time to rest.
They had to bring Summer back.
Or the wheel of time would cease to turn.