There were many things Tarrant wanted to tell to his grandson. He wanted to lie and tell him he’d never thought of leaving and that his intentions to come back to the islands had always been on the forefront of his mind. He wanted to lie and tell him he hadn’t been planning to leave the islands that very morning. But too many lies and promises to be broken had passed his lips, enough that Tarrant was suffering for them now – so much so that he felt even older in spirit than he ever had. “I’ll try to stick around, Elliot.” He said quietly, looking into those gold eyes, and even though Elliot looked different than Midas in color it was those eyes looking at him that reminded Tarrant of the son he’d let down. “I’d like to get to know you too.” He said it softer, and that was in honest truth.

Tarrant’s ears swiveled and his face turned slightly so he could look at Sylvia when she spoke once more. The words she gave tore through his heart. Tarrant’s breath was inhaled sharply through his nostrils and it burned in his lungs. For a moment he only held it, panic striking him until all he could utter (and quite weakly) was, “No.” Not that he was denying what Sylvia was saying, but that he was denying the universe from taking his son from him. Before he got a chance to say goodbye. Before he got a chance to try and rectify their wrongs. Before he got a chance to tell Midas one last time how much he loved him.

As Sylvia continued to speak Tarrant took time catching his breath. He was trying to keep the world from spinning too fast and away from him. What she said was not concrete – she had not seen Midas’ death. She had not seen his body withered and rotted away into nothingness. It did not mean she was wrong but clearly a touch of old Tarrant remained within – the Tarrant that did not like to accept the finality of death. It would be cruel to tell her he thought differently and so Tarrant only stepped toward her, ran his gentle muzzle along her neck and pulled her toward his chest. His chin came over her withers and he encouraged her to step toward his body for a reassuring and emotional hug. “I’m sorry, Sylvia.” He swallowed down a thick lump of emotion and turned his green eyes toward his grandson. “And to you as well, Elliot.”

He wondered if, on the multiple occasions he had left the islands, others he’d left behind faced this same sort of heartache. It hurt, but Tarrant let it burn rather than push it away. He’d done enough of that to plague him for a lifetime. After the moment settled he drew back from Sylvia, hooves digging grooves in the soft Atlantis sand as he moved back. The warmth of the sun was on his back, soaking into his body with comfort. “Are you two planning on staying here, on Atlantis?”