A Strange Education

[Arvælyn]

"A Strange Education"
75 Ash 122

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As if the past few weeks (let alone hours,) hadn't been jarring enough, Arvælyn and Finn were further unmoored upon being informed that they were moving house. Or, actually, that they already had. Apparently, there were security concerns to consider, now. While most of Solunarium was embarking upon the opening festivities of the Solar Sovereign's centennial, a number of slaves had been put to the task of relocating their belongings from their Luxian domus to the royal quarters at the Palatium Umbrarum. They would not be returning to the house they'd called home for their entire time in Solunarium proper. Instead, they were led into the hallowed halls of the ancient subterranean estate that had played host to gods and sovereigns alike in remote antiquity. Though he'd been there before, it always felt like a museum to Arry. And now it would be home.

"Well, it turns out I was a half-elf after all." He said, with a dry chuckle as the servus shut the door behind them. "I was always so concerned with the elfy bit that I never really considered that the other half would be anything other than human."

Now, at last, alone the newly minted prince sighed heavily, feeling as though he could collapse right there on the floor. He wasn't physically exhausted, but mentally he felt like he'd been carrying the weight of the world.

"I know I should probably wander the room in awe and take in the posh, palatial scenery of the new abode, but... I just want a bloody cuddle. Is that awful?" He glanced over his shoulder, one of the wings extending slightly so he could get a better look at it. "I reckon I'll be tougher to spoon now." He noted, wrinkling his nose. He let the wing relax back into its resting position and took a seat on a nearby divan, leaning forward to unlace his boots.

"Gods, every top I own is going to need to be altered, isn't it? At least the taxpayers of Solunarium probably subsidise my wardrobe from here on out, yeah?"

[Finn]

For his part, Finn hadn't left Arvælyn's side since they had been reunited. He wasn't pleased that someone had touched his lute, but he was used to losing that battle. Saying something would only get a servus punished, and then it would happen again. If Arvælyn had true power now, perhaps they could see that the people who served them were treated with greater dignity... Aværys and Varvara had intimated that the pair would be a power couple if they submitted to the will of the Twins. Even now, Finn clung to the idea of self-determination as fiercely as he clung to his amatus.

When they arrived at their new home, someone relieved him of the borrowed lyre. He was pleased that his mastery of the lute helped him learn new stringed instruments.

"Your... ah... father... appears as a full elf when not full dragon. So I suppose, well, I don't know what that makes you, but whatever it is, you're mine." He placed a sweetly possessive kiss on Arvælyn's temple. His arm released the half-dragon when he began to pull away, but followed him toward the divan, kneeling to help him with his boots. Finn couldn't know how comfortable Arvælyn was in his new skin, with his new wings, but he liked to help, and he supposed he was curious whether toes had been replaced with talons.

All the same, he plied his strong musician's hands on his amatus' feet briefly to help him relax.

"We will figure out how to spoon, or you can just drape yourself over my chest, or..." He smiled. Rediscovering his lover would be a good thing.

"Perhaps Dæmon will offer a Kalzasern tailor with exprience making rich attire for Avialæ nobles?"

[Arvælyn]

"My father appears as full Founder when not full dragon..." Arvælyn amended jovially, leaning into the feel of Finn's lips upon his brow with a sigh of relief. It was nice to feel a bit of the familiar amidst all the mind-blowing.

Finn would find most of his lover's form unchanged. The biggest shifts were the wings and the horns, both of which shone a shinier, more metallic sort of gold than his complexion ever did. That sheen blended delicately into the more familiar flesh tone where the new appendages met the body Finn knew so well. There were no new claws, no tail or anything of the like. If he hadn't been introduced as he had, he might have been mistaken for some sort of incubus. So it was that the feet Finn massaged were of a familiar form, despite his suspicions to the contrary. The skin there was still elvish tender rather than draconic armour.

"That feels nice..." He let his head tip back, "My centre of gravity is completely different, now. It took me about a week to relearn how to walk without a wobble. I think the Zalkyrians were worried I wouldn't be able to manage the sands in time for the ceremony and I'd make them look bad." He chuckled at the notion that such ancient, lofty things might be vain enough for that to perturb them. It just seemed so... Solunarian.

He lifted his head as Finn released his ankles and rose from his kneel.

"I may have to be the big spoon... Or... tongs or whatever bit of cutlery I pass for these days." He conceded with playful disappointment. He chuckled at the mention of Dæmon. "I don't doubt the clothiers of the Umbrium are up to the task of cutting wing-slits in my tunics, but I'll grant Kalzasi certainly has the experience. I'm still small for an Avialæ, though, and I will not suffer to wear Talon's adolescent hand-me-downs. I've had more than enough of borrowed garments, and the urchin chapter of my life is well and truly over." He absently waved a hand to dismiss his own line of thought, then his churning eyes softened as his gaze alighted upon Finn's fair face.

"So. How are you feeling, Finn the Majestic?"

[Finn]

Finn's smile didn't waver. He found that he didn't truly care how they held one another as long as they held one another. But he listened, nodded, and when the question came, he gave it due consideration. Everything was mind-blowing of late, paradigm-shifting. Even before they left the north for the Atraxian Expanse, a prince had become a demigod, a king had been assassinated, a demigod captured, and a strange war begun. Mind-blowing was the new normal, and often they were forced to just keep going, digesting and processing events in turbulent dreams or the like.

"Relieved now that you are back," he admitted. He began to undress himself and his amatus as well. His interests weren't immediately prurient, but he wanted to see his lover, assure himself that he was unharmed, if changed, and then investigate how their bodies would fit together at rest. Perhaps they would have a little rest now.

"It was difficult to tread water without you. Without you... it wasn't so clear why I do what I do. But you are my home now... so I went from homeless to..." He glanced around for a moment, then back to Arvælyn. "Now I'm home."

His fingers traced the curve of a horn, brushed a high cheekbone, and tapped lips that at least he had memorized long since. He smiled, then toppled gracelessly upon the divan next to his amatus, tugging at him with an animal need for closeness and comfort.

"And now we know."

Arvælyn's parentage. Cithæra's plot. At least, more of it. He wondered if they would keep Arvælyln in the know now that he was their heir, their piece on the chessboard that matched the Queen's heir.

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn smiled first at the tenor of the reply. It was, after all, about him. It was an immense compliment to be such a focal point in the life of a lover, but as Finn continued, it did spark a bit of worry. Sacrifice had been the theme of the season- Or at least the latter half thereof- and it was concerning to think that Finn might be offering up too much for his sake. There was a time in his life when he'd never have considered such a thing worthy of worry, and yet here they were. Perhaps his conscience was rubbing off on him, even in absentia... even beyond what he, himself, seemed ethically concerned with.

"I'm glad I'm you're home, but I don't wish to be an anchor you can't pull onto the deck, Finn. I'm..." He sighed, "I saw how you were with Tal-... with Dæmon. There was an ease, a-..." He pursed his lips before they curled into a snarl and shook his head.

"You say you're home, but... I gather you miss Kalzasi. I don't." There was a sharp edge to the statement. "You grew up there, I didn't. After the havoc at Talon's reception I'd just hoped to start fresh somewhere... Questioning our safety there reminded me that I'd uprooted myself before, and could again. I... know you don't feel safe here. I probably shouldn't either, but at least I feel taken care of..." He winced, and quickly leapt on his own comment lest it be taken amiss.

"By a larger community than you and Aurin, I mean. You're my conscience." He shifted his body to face Finn, more directly, claiming his hands. "Tell me if it is unreasonable to relish the comfort... the easy renown. Maybe I'm in greater danger than I've ever been in my life, Finn, but it doesn't feel that way. I'm well fed, I want for nothing, I live in a fucking palace and I'm..." He couldn't even cop to the rest because it sounded so ridiculous when voiced aloud: Princeps Draconum. The Dragon Prince of Solunarium.

"I want you to love all this as much as I do." He sighed gravely and looked down at their joined hands, "You don't, though... do you?" Fiery eyes glanced up, looking oddly vulnerable despite their radiance.

[Finn]

There was no hiding from each other. It seemed even if they obfuscated their symphonies for the moment, they knew the music so well.

Finn didn't try to obfuscate.

"Before I met Talon, he had a reputation for... I suppose all the things that made him a host for Arcas. Or... I suppose, made the revelation of Who he was more understandable by mere mortals. He is... different now, but my introduction to him was like a knight in shining armor, saving me from the destructive whims of a drunken nobleman. And we developed a sort of friendship... a strange sort of friendship for a commoner such as I am. You knew me when I was studying him, observing him with his family and his lover. So I suppose even changed... even as Dæmon... he does put me at ease, reminds me of simpler, more easily digestible times.

"I don't think you are unreasonable to enjoy all the things that were denied you before. I do love Solunarium as you do... I can empathize... Some of it is fear that there are things I'm ill-equipped to help you with... protect you from... Some of it might be pride... I never thought I would be a kept man, an auxiliary to someone else. You've risen so high, so quickly... whereas before we were climbing our career ladders side by side. I'm still not sure how I fit in. I don't mind playing my role in public. I still feel like your equal when we are alone, when it counts... even though you are the Dragon Prince of Solunarium."

He laughed, and there was no deception in him.

"I love how it makes you happy in new ways. And they are calling me the far-strider now... with the help of the Sentinels, I can visit my parents if I want to with some ease. I can traverse the world to bring you some foreign delicacy at your whim. When you are settled, I might try to bring the lute back to Syren. I could ride a wyvern to where 'tis said She abides, then open a portal back here. I could fetch Aurin for you..."

[Arvælyn]

Wings and horns weren't Arvælyn's only souvenirs from the Thalamum Draconum. In the aftermath of his bout with Greater Threshold Sickness, he'd developed greater facility with all of his Runes. His Mesmer, in particular was leaps and bounds beyond where it had been. He wasn't sure if it was his draconic lineage, his divine pedigree or perhaps a result of the strange sacrificial bloodbath he took to assuage the symptoms of his affliction. Whatever the case, his Symphony projected an ease about the arcane that hadn't been present before. Moreover, there was more of a sense of control- a far cry from the absent, unwitting way he used to deploy his Mesmer when they met. Despite of all this, his Symphony remained an open book to Finn. Perhaps even more so, now that there weren't unconscious barriers being erected.

So it was that Finn would sense the burgeoning blossoms of envy that had been germinating when Arry mentioned Talon would wither on the vine at Finn's response. He seemed to understand, and in his comprehension, to lose the sense of a threat to his interests.

He smiled to hear Finn say he loved Solunarium. It felt like something he needed to hear. Finn would feel a revelation in Arvælyn's Symphony that was only just striking him now. He'd unwittingly been taking Finn's critiques of the realm as critiques of himself. He was a product of Solunarium, even if he'd been born abroad, he'd been an export and since learning of his lineage he wrapped so much of his identity up in the realm. It explained his severity, his jealousy.... The elements of him that he felt he was supposed to suppress in Kalzasi were fair celebrated here.

"Frost will be a strange education, I should think." He mused, "And we are better situated than ever to shift paradigms in Solunarium... at the very least in the Umbrium. My father has not let on how he plans to rule, but I do know that he plans to spent Frost listening to his future subjects. We will have his ear, Finn. You and I both." He smiled and nodded.

"I'd like to see your parents again, too, if you don't think my new look will be too startling. I suppose I could always Masquerade into my former self and hope I don't knock over any vases with my invisible wings." He sighed,

"Gods! Aurin... I've no idea what he'll make of all this." In wondering, a curious notion crossed his mind, and he tried to reach out to see how he was feeling in this very moment. He felt that distance was a lesser barrier than it had once been to his Mesmer. Perhaps even thousands of leagues away, he might even dip into the distant Symphony of one he'd known long and knew well.

[Finn]

"I'm curious what your father thinks of me," he admitted. Laying back in only his skin, he was without physical or emotional barrier to his amatus. He had spent so much time worrying about Cithæra deciding his usefulness had worn out, but now she was not the greatest power invested in Arvælyn.

Finn got on perfectly well with Raithen, but he had little power in the scheme of things. Phocion and Valæra seemed content with him so long as he played his role as a Sentinel properly. Cithæra was a mystery, though the approbation of Aværys Himself seemed to secure Finn's place in the power schema of Solunarium, and her plans. Perhaps the same would be true for Kyrin—Zalkyriax—who went so far as to wear Aværys' face. Imitation was the highest form of flattery, they said.

"Hm. When you can get away, I can take us to Karnor to visit them. Perhaps a glamour at first so we can prepare them for the revelation, but it will be a shock regardless, and then they will digest it and move on. Ultimately, you're the elf-dragon that I love and that's all they want for me. Whether I can get them to visit Solunarium or not, well. We shall see. And Aurin would... well, I don't know him so well as you, but I imagine he would try to take you down a few pegs, imagining that you are getting too big for your britches."

When Arvælyn reached out, he could feel Aurin, the tenuous connection that hadn't snapped despite their distance. Aurin could feel him too. There was a familiar sense of his symphony, and then surprise and a whipcrack of instant worry. The fox-faced man seemed prepared to set sail immediately for Solunarium, history and experience having taught him to expect bad news as a matter of course.

Finn watched, curious about the echo of Aurin he could hear resonating through Arvælyn.

[Arvælyn]

"We spoke of you, as a matter of course, whilst I was, um... transitioning in the Dragon Chamber." Arvælyn replied, a bit sheepishly. Better Finn's ears were burning than the rest of him, but he'd quite missed his amatus whilst in the heat so near to Sorokyn's core. He'd come to understand that it was no ward of protection that enabled him to endure it, but rather the presentation of his long-suppressed nature. Not only could he now endure flames, he could produce them. That, at least, had come more naturally than flight, which still eluded him. It certainly felt odd, though.

"That would be nice, I think..." The Zaichæri war, it seemed, had been averted. Even if it hadn't, he felt they were both better equipped to handle threats that might assail them in Kalzasi. If it seemed warranted, he imagined they might even complement their defences with a security detail from the Sentinels. Still, Finn's folks were far enough outside the city that he didn't anticipate much in the way of mortal danger.

"Aren't I getting too big for my britches? I'm too big for my tunics now." He said with a demonstrative spread of his wings.

Sensing the assumption of alarm he'd inadvertently projected into Aurin across miles and seas, he sent forth a motif to quell the concern. He was safe, it sung, he was well. Aurin was welcome and encouraged to visit, but not to reprise his role as saviour, but rather as a guest. They hadn't spoken in a while, so the worry made sense, but he was sorry it was something to which the other hallowed human in his life leapt upon thinking of him. He withdrew the connection, and looked to Finn.

"I'm sorry... I'm present, now." Knowing how he'd feel if Finn had mentioned wishing to visit Torin rather than his parents, he recognised a foray into his former lover's Symphony was less than tactful. In Finn's position, he'd have been furious, or at least hurt. He knew Finn wasn't like him in that regard, but still he sought to apply the same rules to himself that he would have wanted from his amatus. Errantly, for a brief moment, he wondered whether he'd have been able to use his newfound augmented power to feel Torin, as well. It was a Symphony into which he'd deeply delved, after all. But it was only a passing thought, and not one which he pursued beyond the hypothetical.

"Why do I feel like you deserve an apology for how my family has uprooted your life? They could have prepared you better for all of this. Gods know they could have prepared me better, the cagey cunts..."

[Finn]

Finn wasn't certain whether Arvælyn was purposefully withholding Zalkyriax's views on the human, but he supposed he would just have to ask the dragon himself. Whether he had wanted Aværys' mark or not, he had it, and that was liable to give him some prestige in Solunarium regardless of his attachment to the Dragon Prince. Elves and dragons alike would see him in a new light, he supposed.

"Perhaps you might eschew tunics altogether?" he posited. "Britches as well if you like. Let Solunarium bask in the glory of their new prince."

Finn smirked, wicked in its way, though hardly so complicated and barbed as Aurin's. Aurin slipped away, slithering out of Arvælyn's awareness. The smirk softened into a smile as his amatus' attention returned to the here and now.

"When I do go back, I can carry word to him for you. I suppose I could even offer to carry official documents from the Solunarian court to the Kalzasern..." He looked thoughtful for a moment, liking the idea of being able to do something as a Sentinel that others couldn't. "And... well... I wanted travel and adventure, too. And I want to be where you are. I think I am slowly beginning to understand how to be here. I suppose I will have to figure out how to order my life now... attending you... being a Silver Sentinel in fact rather than as a cover... I don't need to sing for my supper any longer, but I don't want to forget my art. Impossible really with my muse right in front of me."

The bard laid back on the divan, curious blue gaze affixed to Arvælyn. Much had changed, and while he could sense a great deal, he was curious what might be said.