The age of man had ended. The earth was new. Man still existed, but in small groups, clustered in communities that lived in harmony with the earth, rather than fighting against it. Humanity had learned to harness their technology to work in conjunction with the earth rather than to fight against it and their lives were comfortable. They lived as children of the earth that loved their mother, rather than as one who plundered her. We were known to them now, unafraid to be different, but living separately. We were not gods to them, or demons and not as alien as they once must have seen us, but we were aware of each other as fellow sentient species, a kind of cousin sharing the earth.

I sat on the back of my horse, our preferred mode of travel, surveying the valley before me. Beside me, Tar'oniel sat on his horse, enjoying the view. He gazed out and spoke into my mind, 'Do you think they will have that flower mead they had last time? Legra said it was a new brew and they were testing it out.'

I smiled fondly at my son, "Perhaps. I think you are more interested in seeing Legra than in her mead." I teased.

Scoffing, he turned his face away from me, hiding his smile, "Hardly. I simply enjoyed the mead the last time we were here." He told me, succinctly and guided his horse forward and down the hill. I followed laughing, but said nothing and rode into the small town after him.

We came to a building near the center of the small community and dismounted, handing the animals over to the care of a girl, who led them into a field near the structure to graze. Entering the building, I watched as my son looked for Legra, but spotted her talking to a tall young man, with long legs and curling hair brushing his collar. She was laughing and I looked from the couple to my son, noting the frown on his face. I did not say what I thought, that my son was jealous. No doubt he would say that he was simply concerned for the girl. I studied Legra with the young man and realized their connection was friendly, but platonic. Tar'oniel seemed to shrug something off and called out as we approached, "Legra, hello." He said and gave a wave of greeting, then slightly bowed.

Smiling largely, Legra greeted him in return, "Niel! It's so good to see you! I have more of that flower mead you liked so much last time." She told him, as she simpered at him, her curling honey blond hair flowing around her face as she shook her head in delight, "I can fetch some for you." Her companion elbowed her and she realized she had forgotten the man beside her. Her dark eyes flashed and she shook her head again and elbowed the man back, "But sorry, this is my cousin, Menan. I don't mean to be rude," She said as she glanced at the man, "But I really just forgot he was here." She teased and elbowed him again, more lightly this time.

Menan rolled his eyes and pretended to simper as she was doing, "She's just saying that because she's a horrible flirt, and she talks about you all the time, Niel." He said, imitating the way Legra said her shortened version of Tar'oniel's name. I laughed at the exchange, as both my son and Legra blushed. Menan peered from Tar'oniel to me and his eyes widened faintly. I stared back at him and felt a shock move through me as our eyes met. His eyes were a dark hazel and his almost blond hair framed his face. His skin was a healthy bronze, more because of the melanin in it, than from being out in the sun. What arrested me was not his features, the color of his eyes and hair, or the look in his eyes, but the sense of familiarity I felt when gazing at him. It struck me hard and for a moment I forgot to breathe.

I had known for a long time that Legra was the same Hoseok I had known lifetimes ago, reborn into a new body, and while I had known her from a child, and had also known her parents and brother, I had not yet met her extended family. Meeting her cousin was more than a shock for as I looked into his eyes, I knew him as the man I had loved. Menan was Namjoon. Tar'oniel looked at me in concern, sensing my distress and shock and put his hand on my shoulder. Silently he asked me, 'Mother. Are you well?'

As he did, Legra blinked and looked between the two of us, "Ma'amman? Would you like some water? Or to sit?" She asked, also concerned.

Before I could answer, a girl with fiery red hair and darkened skin, from both the melanin and the sun, ran into the room, her dark blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, "Menan!" She called as she hung on his arm, almost swinging on him, "Menan! Momma says you need to come help her! Come now!" She cried, then pulled his arm, as if to pull him from the room. She grinned at me and in her eyes I saw the same thing I had seen in Namjoon's young son many centuries ago. The same eyes. The same soul behind the body. It was Angelica reborn. I closed my eyes and found the nearest chair. Menan looked at me in concern, but watched as Legra and Tar'oniel tried to make me comfortable. As they did, he left the room, looking back at me as he exited the back door, calling to the girl to stop hanging on him, as he was coming as she asked.

"I could use some of that flower mead." I told Legra as I worked to catch my breath.

Tar'oniel put a steadying hand on my shoulder and crouched down next to me as he studied my face, 'You do not appear ill. What has shocked you, mother?' He asked into my mind as Legra went to fetch the mead.

I gazed at Tar'oniel for long moments, "Those eyes..." I blinked, trying to clear the shock from my mind, "Those are his eyes." I said out loud.

Frowning, Tar'oniel puzzled over my words, 'Whose?' He asked me again, silently.

'Namjoon's.' I said into his mind and looked at the empty doorway to the room Menan had just left.

Tar'oniel stood abruptly and pulled another chair close, sitting near me, 'The child, or the man?' He asked, carefully, peering into my face.

"The man." I said out loud and rubbed my hands over my face, as Legra brought a cup of mead to me.

"I added some water to it, Ma'amman. I hope you don't mind." The young woman announced as she handed the cup over to my shaking fingers. She moved her hands around mine to help me steady them. Once my hands were steady, she released her hold as I drank deeply from the glass, finishing it off, then setting the cup down.

Looking back towards the door, I puzzled over the connection and at the same time, felt my heart blooming with the love I remembered, yet had left behind long after his passing in that lifetime. It was a distant memory, yet I had always remembered him more than fondly.

My mind was racing, and I asked faintly, as Legra and Tar'oniel hovered over me, "Is he here for long? Your cousin?" I asked, still staring at the empty doorway.

Bemusedly, Legra responded, "Who? Menan?" She bit her lip and glanced at Tar'oniel with a question in her eyes, "He's here for the summer, actually. My aunt and his sister leave in a few weeks, but he's staying."

I nodded and stood, then, making an excuse, walked to the bathroom to wash my face with a silent word to my son, 'I will be back.' I told him, as I left the two behind. I heard Legra ask if I was okay with a soft reassurance from Tar'oniel, followed by the beginning of a bantering conversation meant to distract her, which it did. In the bathroom I splashed water onto my face and stared into the mirror, as memories flooded my mind. Namjoon on the beach of the pond on Jeju, Namjoon below me as I teased him with my body, Namjoon on the stage, singing, delighted that I was back, Namjoon, all Namjoon. I thought of Menan and how similar their eyes were. I knew it was him. It had to be him. And here, Angelica was with him again in this lifetime. 'What was the connection?' I asked myself, pondering deeply.

Suddenly, the realization dawned on me, as it bloomed inside my mind. 'Oh holy Mother', I thought, 'What have you done to me?!' The realization was both heavy and light. It felt as if a building had fallen on me, and I couldn't breathe at first. As I began to unravel the thoughts and find my breath again, one set of thoughts coalesced into my mind. Menan was Namjoon, was the Knight, was Angelica's husband, was the man I killed on the battlefield, was Namjoon, and was Menan. I suddenly felt sick. I felt sick, but elated, shocked, and dizzy, happy, but bewildered. My emotions were chaotic.

I had felt so much anger and a desire for revenge when I had first known of Angelica's death. Her husband had been responsible and my anger sought blood for blood. I had wanted Pierre Blois to die and encountering him, wounded, on the battlefield had been a happy convenience. That I could have saved him, had only been in my mind for a moment, and I had chosen violence and to ease his death, which would have come, either way, without my intervention. It had not given me peace, and I had grieved Angelica's death just as much as if I had not taken revenge. I had eventually let go of the events and learned to heal the pain, delegating Angelica into my memory, fondly, but as a lesson I had learned from. And in the space of many centuries, I had eventually forgiven Pierre, asking his soul for forgiveness as well, and had let go of both of them.

Meeting Namjoon, falling deeply in love with him, and then having to leave him had not tipped me off to who he was, beyond his body. I had loved Namjoon more than I could ever express, yet had never known he was the man I killed on the battlefield. In my experience of Namjoon, outwardly, a vastly different person from Pierre, I had learned, somehow, to realize a balm to the heart, which had not fully healed after the revenge I had taken so many centuries ago in France. And now, here he was again, a different body, a different man, the same soul. The realizations circled in my mind and then settled and as they did so, my breath began to slowly steady.

I felt a knock on the door and my son's energy on the other side. Quietly his voice entered into my mind, 'Are you certain you are well, mother? Your emotions...' He trailed off, not needing to say more, as we both knew what was going through my heart, even if he didn't know what was going through my mind. When I didn't answer, he spoke aloud, "Mother? Are you okay?" I still would not answer and he knocked again, "Mother?"

"What's wrong?" I heard from the other side of the door. It was another man's voice.

'Menan? Namjoon?' I asked myself and listened for the voice again, but it was my son who spoke, instead, "It is nothing, actually." He said to the other man, a little at a loss as to what to do. Long gone was his natural distrust of humans. Legra was his friend, and he might have been interested in more at some point, and therefore Menan was not a threat, exactly. He could actually be a friend, but if he was Namjoon reborn, he did not know what it would mean to his mother, exactly. Tar'oniel scrutinized Menan as the man steadily returned his gaze.

I stood up fully from the sink and wiped my face free of the water I had splashed onto it, then turned and opened the door. I looked from both my son to Menan and back again. Sending a silent message to Tar'oniel that I was fine, and he could leave me to go after Legra, or attend to our business, I looked back at Menan, and gave him a half smile, studying him. This time, Namjoon as Menan was taller than me, by a few inches. His features were similar, yet different. His skin was a touch darker than it had been in his life as Namjoon. His eyes were no longer dark, his hair lighter and curled.  The openness in his eyes was the same, with a lightness to them he had sometimes lacked as Namjoon, the weight of his life having left a heaviness in his eyes sometimes. As I looked at him more closely, I also saw the man, Angelica's husband, in that lifetime long ago, when I was still quite young.

As I studied him, Menan studied me and for a split second I thought he recognized me. I stood up taller and gave him a shaky smile, "I'm well. Don't let my son fool you." I smoothed down my tunic and ran my fingers through my hair, then broadened my smile as I gazed at him.

Menan smiled back, and I was shocked to see two deep dimples form within his cheeks. I studied him again and wondered if Pierre Blois had ever had dimples and realized I could not remember if I had ever seen the man smile in those centuries so long ago. Menan leaned against the wall, almost as if to engage me in a long conversation, his dimples still vaguely on display, "So he's your son?" He asked. With my nod he smiled deeply again, "That's good to know. He seems to have a thing for my cousin, which could get weird."

Raising my brows at him, I asked in a whisper, "Why would that be weird?"

Menan suddenly blushed deeply, "Uh. No reason, actually." He said and stood up straighter.

'Holy Mother.' I thought to myself, 'He's so like him.' Licking my lips, suddenly a bit nervous, I responded, "You do know that you must keep your thoughts silent around my kind, don't you?"

Blushing even more deeply than before, which I didn't think was possible he laughed, "Uh, I think I remember hearing that somewhere."

I smiled softly. The man before me was so different, yet so familiar, and I simply gazed at him as he returned my expression, openly. We stood there in the hall for many moments taking each other in before he cleared his throat, "I guess you are here on business, or something, but do you want to go for a walk before you get down to the grit of it?"

Holding my breath, I suddenly let it out and responded, "Yes. I would like that. Lead the way?"

Dimpling at me, he stepped down the hall and I followed him, falling in step next to him. As we walked side by side, I was amazed at how the Mother had weaved together each of his lifetimes into my own. The past was simply that, the past, yet here was the past walking beside me in the present. And though we were just getting to know each other in his new form, with this version of me, simply older, yet the same, I could feel the love between us, never fully gone, beginning to blossom again as a new flower, yet ages old. I smiled at him and boldly, though shy, he smiled back, then lightly touched the back of my hand with his fingers, as if asking for permission. It was maybe too soon, but we were no strangers to jumping head first into each other. Feeling the deepening familiarity, and knowing his mind, I put my hand into his and with an even shyer smile, he looked down at the ground, then threaded his fingers with mine, as if he had never once let me go.

Finis