In the Balance

[Aeros]

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As all watched the royal move, Æros actually found Arkænyn growing on him rather quickly. Sure, they may not agree on everything, but what the princeps did have going for him was his behavior– something about his displays of unfettered delight, of emotion in general, made him quite charming, and how expressive he was– these things were almost enough to overlook the arrogance entirely. And he did not begrudge the man his arrogance for any petty moralistic reasons, nor even his own ego; no, it was more that unfettered arrogance could be volatile…and dangerous. But so long as Æros could please him, it would be fine, he hoped.

Janus, on the other hand, watched this spectacle of man with quiet curiosity. He certainly veered more towards the stoicism found in other Solunarian nobility, but that didn’t mean he judged others for being…like this. In some ways, he found it amusing rather than anything else.

The princeps’ response caused the older politician’s eyes to widen at first, but only slightly; he figured the man was capricious, but–

But, as soon as questions began to run through Janus’ head, Arkænyn continued, and his revisions were actually far better than the original offer. He was still quite surprised, but also relieved, pleased; his expectations were met and then far exceeded.

Cicæros’ eyes fluttered; both souls within were bewildered. Cicæro already was, but having heard what his kin had just been offered– and then to know that perhaps he could inherit the seat?– it was exciting, incredibly galvanizing; he actually hadn’t really wanted it before, but with Æros being given a different position, perhaps he could? Of course, Janus would still have to guide him in much the same way he had been doing for Æros for a while, but still, it got him thinking…

The princeps, upon finishing his declaration of how fate would move forward, only dismissed one of two present parties. And before any of the Sælyan guests could respond, Arkænyn called to the nomenclator– all further audiences were to be dismissed. To this, Janus actually rose a brow and the faintest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips; the notion certainly amused him, but also, he knew Æros; the boy would be delighted, and if whatever this was earned Æros more of the princep’s favor, then all’s well.

And Æros was! Delighted, that is, and so was his host, for that matter, as Arkænyn approached them. His closeness made Cicæro shiver with anticipatory excitement, sucking in a short, quivering breath as his body tensed; all he could do in response was just nod to the royal's words.

Janus would acknowledge the royal, “Do let us know when we are to make these proclamations, and it will be done. Thank you-- for your time and generosity, Your Serene Starlit Highness,” speaking the latter sentence as he performed a sort of quicker, yet still revenant, kneeling bow. And then, he would look to his kin, and with words unspoken and perhaps a bit of magic, conferred to Æros to enjoy himself– but behave. And with that, the senator would take his leave.

Cicæros, however, would instead follow after the princeps, trailing ‘round the daïs and into the sitting room to join him; any further action would be based on what Arkænyn would state, command, or do.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

"At your earliest convenience..." Arkænyn replied promptly with a wave over his shoulder to Janus as he led the other(s) from his presence.

"Now, then." He clapped his hands together and wrung them as he crossed the threshold into the sitting room. He an anxious servus stepped forward, as the prince turned his back on him and extended his arms. The slave smoothly slid his mantle from slender shoulders and draped it over his arm, as Arkænyn claimed the high-backed seat of honour. He let one of his long, slender legs dangle over the armrest and rolled his head to look at another servant.

"Boots." He rasped, causing the girl to dart over and kneel to begin unlacing the footwear the Sælyan's had deigned to kiss at the demand of their soon-to-be liege lord. To another of the servi his baritone demanded, "Wine. Scorpion wine." The spirit, alcohol infused with small amounts of scorpion venom, was an old Vastian tradition that had been popular in the desert for centuries before finding its way into the capital. It was smooth as wine, but stronger than most spirits and with a different sort of intoxicating effect. If one overindulged it could even become psychedelic in nature.

"Sit." His breath baritone commanded of CicÆros, as the serving girl slid his first boot from his pale foot, and shifted herself to get to work on the other. He extended his arm without looking and a goblet soon found its way into his grasp. He brought it to his lips and tipped it back as his eyes perused Cicæro's fair form from top to bottom.

"You don't have to keep your eyes downcast, now. I know it's tempting to take me in, and I won't begrudge you the privilege. But at least one of you has clapped eyes on the Founders themselves, yes?" He extended his hands presenting himself. "How does the latest model stack up to the originals?" As the serva removed his second boot, he waved her away without troubling himself to look at her. With her head lowered, she collected his boots and backed away to stand against a wall as another approached CicÆros with a less ornate cup of scorpion wine than the one dangling between the prince's fingers.

[Aeros]

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To be alone with the princeps had Cicero nervous, but to prevent that from affecting their shared corpus, Æros soothed him through Mesmer, weaving away his trepidation and highlighting his excitement. He wasn’t sure how possession quite worked with the other soul fully conscious, but when his brother was in a good mood, the act was an easy one. It was also easier given that Cicero himself had Mesmer and he took his brother’s manipulations in as encouragement more so than anything else, allowing such magics to interlace with both of their Symphonies with an elegant ease.

CicÆros stood and watched as Arkænyn gave his initial orders to the nervous-looking servii in the room. Scorpion wine was an interesting choice, though it was one both parties were familiar with. Æros had been a fan of it in the past, Cicæro only had passing dalliances with it. Cicero's only worry concerned his constitution compared to the princeps, and…Æros was met with the realization that he did not have what…extensive…tolerance he used to possess any longer. Twined as the two souls were at this moment, Cicæro communicated his tolerances, and the ghost would…try to abide by them.

When given the command, Æros would sit across from the platinum royalty; per what he had been instructed, he had deliberately kept his eyes away from the man’s gaze when he could, though passing glances and his peripheral vision had granted him view enough of his visage to get the gist. But when Arkænyn waived that little rule, CicÆros turned his gaze, eyes a tawny sort of gold, onto the princeps. Both souls within found the other man exquisitely beautiful; it was no wonder that platinum blood was so coveted when those who bore it were graced with such majesty. It made Æros miss the constellations he used to bear; he’d always imagined that they were the projection of his celestial blood, made manifest using his Fæ aspects as medium.

Cicero himself was a pale, golden little elf; for those of his race, he wasn’t the tallest of men, standing only a bit over 6’. But despite his pallor, his skin bore warmer tones and he looked hale, full of life. His figure was slender, though toned, strong; his father had been a soldier, and the two of them bonded through training often. And with the way his opalescent, golden curls fell ‘round his sweet, boyish features– he was certainly charming.

When the princeps mentioned the Founders, CicÆros smiled warmly, though almost impish, at Arkænyn’s words. “I’ve seen Them both, yes– but as for His beauty? It is a brilliance I cannot even begin to describe; lucent radiance, golden incandescence…he is the personification of elven Majesty, truly. Even being in His presence was an incredibly edifying experience alone…but you? I could not imagine a more perfect reflection of His grace. Don’t tell him, but the violet of your eyes? Exquisite; another being couldn’t hope to match you.” Cicero’s voice was soft and silken, not what Æros was used to hearing when he’d been alive; his expressions of admiration however, were delivered with a bright, blooming sort of reverence, though not quite a sentimental one.

And once he’d said that, he’d drink from the cup of wine he’d been given. Cicero’s tongue quite liked it, apparently– which was a dangerous game given who was piloting him.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

Arkænyn's leg that was draped over the armrest bounced lazily, as he watched his guest. Now that he was unshod one could see that the pale flesh atop his foot was crisscrossed with witchmarks that extended down through the leg of his trousers. His toenails, like his fingernails, were painted a reflective platinum base over which patterns in black had been laid.

"I envy you." Arkænyn confessed, through an irritated sigh. "Though it is eminently obvious I have been touched by Them, I have never seen Them myself... Only in dreams, but who is to say whether those were visions or the force of my will presenting itself in my subconscious." He grunted, shaking his head.

"No matter. My time will come, and it will be glorious. Perhaps embracing you will be the first step on that journey." He took a sip of wine, then extended the arm holding it toward Cicæros.

"I expect both of you wish to be useful to the Crown. Tell me: How may I use you?" His lips curled into an impish smile that would dismiss any doubt that he was incognizant of the connotations laced into his word choices. There was something darkly playful about the notorious libertine prince. Although he'd been criticised for his early failings as a Solunarian leader, perhaps he was learning his stride by finding ways to make the boring work amusing. That may well have been to Æros' benefit, as it was abundantly clear from the way he unabashedly stared and the placed to which his gaze roamed, that the Prince Regent found Cicæro physically attractive. Of course the ear nibble had likely clued them both into that moments earlier.

[Aeros]

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As CicÆros’ gaze drifted over the other’s figure, Æros found himself particularly interested in the intricate designs wrought by the witchmarks Arkænyn bore– much of him wanted to see more of them, but it didn’t feel quite like the right moment to ask after that.

The princep’s open admittance of envy honestly surprised them both, and as he went on, CicÆros eyed him curiously– he wondered about the dreams, because though he’d met Them, he didn’t actually experience those.

The sunborn exhaled softly, his face shifting slightly; part sympathetic, part bashful. “They are…unpredictable, honestly. I’m surprised They answered what I thought would've been my final prayer at all, even more so that I am bereft of my own flesh,” he said, gesturing with both hands towards himself in a brief, sweeping downward motion and alongside a soft, self-deprecating exhale of a laugh. “But I am glad to have been saved, especially by Them, regardless of form. And you? I can't speak for anyone but myself...but I've every reason to believe your time will come.”

He’d continue, “...having said that, I do want to use this..." he drew out the 's' a bit as he looked to the side to think of the right word. "Hallowed blessing to serve Solunarium, and it felt like my desire to do so was falling on deaf ears in the Umbrium– your call was most unexpected, but I’d’ve been a fool not to take it. Unlike them, you listened, you gave me this gift; and for that, I cannot understate my gratitude, Your Serene Starlit Highness.

Service under you is service to our beloved nation, too, is it not?” CicÆros’ gaze returned to meet Arkænyn’s with this question.

“So how will I serve you? However you’d like me to– as I said earlier, I am yours to command,” punctuating this sentiment with a wink, then drinking more of the wine.

Arkænyn’s gaze had felt lascivious from the start, but as the minutes passed, it became ever the clearer that such intent had not been misread. And while Cicæro had his nerves– namely, whether he’d be able to please a prince– Æros returned the princep’s interest in kind.

“Truly. Whatever role you want– I can even wear different flesh if it is your desire.” At this point, the look in CicÆros’ eyes mirrored Arkænyn’s; gone was the trepidation, the nerves; for they’d been suppressed, and for the moment, the softer party’s will was weakened.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

Arkænyn sniggered.

"I would be disappointed if They were predictable." He replied, with amusement, but there was a softening to his expression as the other expressed faith in him. He seemed almost disarmed by the sentiment.

"Then perhaps both of us... all of us are victims of underestimation." He looked absently over his shoulder, "My arrival should have been a singularly epic moment in our history: The first Platinum child of a sitting sovereign coming home to roost. Instead, my moment, like my mother's second throne, was usurped by the Zalkyrians." He snarled, running the slender fingers of his free hand through his platinum hair,

"Though I am a rarity, my counterpart is rarer still... and though our stories have commonalities, in the eyes of the realm his bloody horns and wings trump my fair hair and, how did you put it? 'Exquisite' violet eyes..." He trailed off, downing his wine and extending the goblet in a wordless command for a refill, which was promptly delivered.

"Now, that is an interesting notion..." Arkænyn replied, at the proposition of Æros donning different flesh to suit his desires, "Though I do quite like this flesh. I think I like its owner, as well... When you join my privy council I will need you to have a consistent form. It would be too... jarring to have you wearing different bodies day by day. You will give me options and I will select the face and form I favour. I like to be surrounded by pretty things, don't you?" He paused,

"But, more to the point: On what matters do you think yourself authoritative enough to advise me? I will be candid with you. My interest in you, Æros, derives from your direct connection to the Founders. I look for signs and portents in the world around me and you may be my inroad. My sources have informed me that my counterpart, his lover and his brother all bear Emblems. I refuse to believe that this is some sort of endorsement of the Phædryn claim over that of the Unbroken Line. Næ... this is a lesson. We are being taught that we have forgotten the tenets of our Faith. We have become stagnant, whilst the Phædryns were crafty... hungry." He leaned forward,

"I am hungry, too. I will not hide away in this desert palace for the centuries of my life content to sip scorpion wine with pretty boys, when there is a world of faithless, misguided heathens who must be brought to heel. If half of my birthright must be griped from my grasp by the dragons, then I shall have to expand my domain in other directions. How will you help me achieve this?"

[Aeros]

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Æros listened as Arkænyn spoke of the day he’d arrived in Solunarium, the very same that the dragons rose from the depths. And he would continue to listen, granting the princeps his rapt attention for the whole of his words, smiling softly at parts, because they resonated with him.

Cicero smiled internally at the comment that Arkænyn had any positive opinion of him, and Æros was somewhat glad for that. Much as he liked his brother’s form, this…wasn’t somebody whose soul he’d like to render dormant.

“Shall I select only of my kin? And what if any protest to the notion?” He’d inquire at first. His gaze would shift to nothing in particular as he thought for a moment before promptly returning to Arkænyn. “But I do agree– it would get confusing rather quickly were I to not have consistency.”

It was the rest of what Arkænyn said that made CicÆros’ eyes widen, but then, he looked thoughtful.

“To give you the most accurate answer, I’d have to know in what fields you consider yourself weak– I’m hesitant to be presumptuous in that regard. But, what I can tell you is that I can confirm all three bear those marks; I’ve seen each made manifest. Because I was friends with the draconic crown prince and his lover, but then…” Æros laughed, something bitter and sardonic. “I’ve certainly burnt that bridge– his lover, with his crown of majesty, did deign claim my slave as his thrall; and then that thrall ‘disappeared’ upon my return.” He added in brief extrapolation, mimicking a puff of smoke with his hands when he said ‘disappeared.’

“But the other two? I know some things, some things I feel I might draw particular danger for saying 'fore my allegiance has officially been shifted. I also cannot say for certain if anyone else bears them. I do have a tie to a girl who’s working with House Phaedryn– but she’s been given wards touched by the Midnight Mother herself; I can only learn what she tells me or what I see in her company, but should I learn anything pertinent, I will convey it to you.” His loyalties had been torn in so many directions of late.

“But as for expansion…there’s many options. I’d happily aid you in conquest either diplomatic or by force. If my skills in possession become more subtle, more refined, perhaps I could sow discord amongst your rivals that way? Perhaps convince dissenters of your own majesty that way, too. Anything that hides the Aura and Symphony would hide my…presence, and then it’s just acting from there,” he said with a dark sounding laugh.

He paused for a moment, considering. “Further, my magic is yours to direct. I’ve fiv–” he cut off, wincing like he’d just bitten down on glass. “...four Crafts. Two are mastered, the others will be soon– I can be quite quick with that when I push myself.”

Æros almost continued, but he looked hesitant, pained. “My…” He sucked in a breath, ”...I had a third rune of similarly mastered potency. Listen, the…circumstances surrounding my death were complicated, but I had…I had a rune ripped from my soul; my Semblance." He shuddered; this part had enraged him since it happened, but quick as that fire came, he reigned it back in with a flex of æther.

"To my knowledge, the Silver Sentinels are still coveting the crystallized form of it I was able to retrieve, and if you could get that back to me so that I could figure out how to bind with it once more, I promise I’d serve you far better with it than without.” Briefly, he felt gripped with anxiety about the notion of not being able to pry that free from the claws of the Sentinels– he had to ask.

“...and if nothing else, I can serve to stoke your hunger; push you on. For I feel the same. I fell into a period of stagnation myself, but now? Eyes ahead– and you are right; there are so many who ought be brought to heel. And you? Wear the boot– I’ll advise you from the shadows, spectral as I am.

"It's more effective if you don't seek Them, as well; what we will do is make waves, act in ways that will attract Their attentions. I’ve done so before– I’ll be damned if I don’t do it again. Spend enough time with me and They might appear to us both at once, but regardless…even if I am alone, your name will be on my lips, for we are working together now, yes?” Æros spoke with a fiery conviction now, confident in his words and determined to see them through. “Stoke now our nascent flames, Your Serene Starlit Highness, for our hunger will burn brightest, our souls aflame.” He smiled, and then he laughed, pleased at the notion of a future working to further Arkænyn's goals; they didn't have to agree on everything. Power was power.

"Mmm, but don't tell me you've suddenly lost interest in scorpion wine and pretty boys? That'd be such a shame," Æros added, grinning innocently before finishing his own cup of wine and asking after another.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

Arkænyn laughed grimly at that first query.

"You'd be better received by the other members of the Consilium if you selected from my kin, but alas... That would be unbecoming. No. You may choose from outside your family, but do favour us with a full-blooded Re'hyæan form. We would not wish for our subjects to believe we have compromised our scruples out of desperation in response to the Zalkyrian annexation of the Umbrium. I am still new enough that my moves are under particular scrutiny. Perception is everything." Arkænyn shrugged at the second question.

"Just be clever. If you need me to command it, select someone from amongst my subjects who will not cause collateral damage to vex me for my troubles. You may send me portraits from which to narrow the options... or use your Craft of Masquerade to display their images." Arkænyn's lip curled up in a slight snarl at Æros' subsequent wording.

"Weak? My primary deficiency is a lack of opportunity and a rival Crown that has been paving their path for decades, whilst I was a ward in Auris... They were about this work even before I was born." He bit his lip, as Æros elaborated on his knowledge of the Emblems. As the ghost continued on, his smile returned, spreading broadly.

"I ask how you can help me, and you tell me how I can help you." He guffawed at this realisation. "He of the Sceptre would laud your ambition, even if She of the Scourge would balk at the unsubtle manner with which you present it. I have no authority over the Sentinels. To reclaim your... crystal is it? I would either have to beg, barter or burgle. I do not beg. I will not burgle. However, if you find me something they want that I have and am willing to part with? I shall consider it."

He pursed his lips, his dangling leg ceasing to bob back and forth.

"Working together?" He sucked some air through his teeth and sighed. "Prithee do not mistake the abounding largesse I display in condescending to imbibe with you for some manner of equipoise between us." His lips smiled, though no sign of joy was present in his purple eyes, "I. Am. Peerless. You will work for my advancement and be happy to do so because it is the natural order of things. If it pleases me to reward you, I will do so." His eyes darkened, and he hissed: "But don't you dare expect it." After a beat, his smile returned and his tone lightened and he chuckled.

"Of course not! What did I just tell you before we quit your uncle's presence? One must be certain to leave time in the day for recreation. And I would like to wax recreative with Cicæro. He is so enticingly timid in my presence. He is not so brazen as you, Æros. A lovely trait in an advisor, to be sure, but as the day grows late I find myself losing the mood for counsel. Actually, why don't you flit off somewhere and leave Cicæro and me to get acquainted?"

[Aeros]

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“If given reign to choose, I had no intention of picking anyone that wasn’t full blooded Re’hyæan; that would be foolish. I just wasn’t quite sure what my options were, but I’ve much to ponder in that regard, now.” There were some within and without his house that he'd not mind purloining the skin of.

Æros sort of figured the other would respond this way, though it appeared that Arkænyn missed what had been unspoken, only implied. “The rune– it’s crystallized. And while I would love to have it back on myself, have you Semblance yourself, Your Serene Starlit Highness? If you do not, that crystal can bind with you– or anyone. Which is part of the problem; would be a shame for something so useful to be wasted on them; and if you do the bartering to get it back, it’s as good as yours; you’d have the rune yourself, then, and at a master’s potency. All I can do is ask– your ability to take it for yourself is always there.

And I fear I’ve misspoken; my sincerest apologies." Here, he'd bow his torso deeply. "When I say ‘together,’ I spoke not as equals– I am below you, and my mind there has certainly not changed.” Arkænyn misconstruing his intent was a dangerous notion, indeed.

But rather, it was the next thing that he said that posed the greatest risk. “I…really shouldn’t. I can if that is truly what you command, but I must warn you: depossession is a process that is not easy. Cicæro will be struck with a heavy æther sickness immediately, which is usually allayed by healers within my own house, but even so he’d be exhausted by it– entirely sapped.

Alternatively, I can do one of two other things; I can give him control, or I can submit to you; either way, you'll have the submission of both of us. Is there not appeal in dominating the brazen, too, Your Serene Starlit Highness?” And he was, certainly, sincere. He omitted the part about how badly he’d damage himself were he to leave, but to abruptly tear away from Cicæro would harm him just as much; they needed the help of Necromancers to ease it, at the very least.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

Arkænyn nodded, in response to Æros' assurances.

"So you do." He replied blithely as he lifted the goblet to his lips for a taste of scorpion wine. He tipped his head back as his tongue began to tingle whilst he rolled the liquid around in his mouth.

"If the Sentinels are in possession of this crystallised Rune, then they'll have studied it no doubt, with the intention of learning to recreate the process." He frowned at this notion. "If they haven't yet found a method, they'll never give it up- If they have, then it isn't worth what it was." He grunted in displeasure. This was too heady a topic to contemplate in his current mood.

"Good boy." The prince was assuaged by the apology and clarification, it seemed, though he grimaced at the complications presented to his request. He paused at length, and pondered. Slowly his lips curled into another of those smiles that didn't quite make it to his violet eyes.

"Is that so?" He released his grip on the goblet, which remained aloft levitating at his side as he undraped his leg from the armrest, drew his knees together in front of him and leaned forward to stare at CicÆros.

"What a compromising flaw that is for you both... so, if you were to depart from him he would be left drained and helpless? Melting from the chair onto the floor and lying there like a rag doll?" The grin found its way to his gaze.

"You know, Mummy never did send me any dolls to play with when she shipped me off to Auris. Do you think I'm too old to adopt the habit?" His smile broadened until it cracked into laughter.

"I see why you were drawn to the senate, Æros. The politicking, the bargaining, the backtracking and backroom dealing. Alas, it is not a matter of what can be appealing, it is a matter of what I am in the mood for right now. And being denied is rarely something I enjoy." With a little giggle he straightened his back, sat upright and crossed his legs, placing both hands on his lap.

"Will you be able to use that shrewd political acumen to appease me with something else, or will you give me what I asked for?" He wrinkled his nose as his expression took on a look of mock consolation, "Because I've got to say your pretext for being disinclined to obey me sounds like a you problem that doesn't really have a downside on my end."