Fate was a fickle thing, and Tyr had given up on trying to change it. From trinket, to soldier, to General and then Boss; he should have known the day he was cast from his position that he couldn’t be rid of this place. Though he had been given peace for many long seasons, being a trinket once again felt like a punishment for enjoying that time spent away. Consequence for the things he had done in the absence of the brotherhood. But it wasn’t just Tyr that had been given the consequences of his actions; Jigsaw had paid the ultimate price for his. Tyr had made sure of that.


Standing amongst the muck and mire, Tyr’s eyes were closed, and his head hung even with his withers. He felt defeated, as if all the strength he had carried was finally beginning to fade away. Perhaps he would wither and rot amongst the mud, just as the trees did when they fell.


Amongst the reek of men, Tyr began to scent something much softer; sweeter, and familiar. It caused him to open his blue-green eyes, and lift his head to peer into the shadows cast by the overhead vegetation. Like a dream, she appeared, and Tyr felt his heart give a harsh thump in his chest. “Oswin?” her name was but a whisper on his lips, afraid that she couldn’t possibly be real. He had dreamed of her often on the sandy beaches of Atlantis, surrounded by their children. To think he had missed the Lagoon while he had been there, and now he wanted nothing more than to go back to the Ridge.