The Iron Fist of Akrivar [Finn]

[Arvælyn]

"The Iron Fist of Akrivar"
50 Searing, 124
Zōbrie Āegenka Fortress
Kālādon, Aurisian Covenant

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One moment Arvælyn was standing in his own palace, and the next, with one simple step, he was back upon the content upon which he was raised. Such things were a wonderment to him at one time, but now they'd become so casual. Particularly with a traverser in the family, but Finn was not on duty and it was an Aurisian mage who'd formed the portal that delivered the prince and his consort from Solunarium.

They found themselves surrounded by high, walls that seemed carved from obsidian and accented with something that glowed like molten steel... like Arvælyn's own eyes. Those dark walls were lined with decorated with well-preserved ancient paintings and tapestries. The styles may have been different, but the idea was the same as what one viewed in the receiving rooms at the Palatium Umbrarum.

Beneath one large fresco that hung above a set of tall, double doors flanked by liveried footmen stood a chamberlain in black robes. The chamberlain bowed, though the footmen remained stock still as statues, staring directly across from them.

"Your Exalted Highness... Your Grace. His Blazing Highness apologises for the clandestine reception, but he thought it wise, given the split loyalties of House d'Averyx as things currently stand."

"Well, we come in the hope of unifying those loyalties, so we offer all due deference to His Highness' judgement." Arvælyn replied, with a cordial, if tempered smile.

"If you will follow me this way, His Blazing Highness awaits you in the courtyard." He turned from the Umbrian princely retinue, and turned as the double doors behind him parted to reveal a corridor with a high archway that opened up into an open area upon which the sun shone from above. Presumably the courtyard in question.

[Finn]

The Rune of Traversion held great utility, and Finn had mastered it. In Solunarium, however, it was considered a servant's Rune. In Solunarium, even the servants had Runes. He used his frequently as a Sentinel, but even though diplomacy fell within the purview of the Vigilia Argenti, he was here as Arvælyn's husband. My Grace, he thought ruefully to himself. He had to concentrate to remain graceful, else he would trip over his ornamented footwear, and that wouldn't do. Of course, while he didn't wear a prince's crown, he wore many hats—perhaps a tasteful fillet at a formal affair, cowl and veil should subterfuge and obfuscation be required to find and follow leads that might take him to the Mad Queen that he might take her life.

Finn nodded graciously, showing more respect to the chamberlain than Arvælyn needed to, but then all his status here derived from Arvælyn. The Siltori would hardly be impressed by Aværys' crown blazing forth from his brow, not like the faithful of Solunarium. That suited him fine; he was growing accustomed to the hunger in his belly that was a more spiritual Hunger. From time to time, he needed to remember to temper his Ambition, to mind his place upon the Pyramid—not that his last object lesson hadn't been a pleasant one.

He refrained from speech at this point; Arvælyn had said all that needed saying for the nonce. He walked beside his husband—not so close as to cling or get in the way of swaying arms and wings, but not so far that he couldn't reach out and pull him into the slipstream on the off chance ambush awaited them, not so far away that he could not step between him and sword or sorcery aimed at his blessed body.

When he caught the crown prince's gaze, he smiled, serene and supportive, then as his prince looked ahead to the courtyard opening up to them, he looked forward as well.

[Arvælyn]

As they stepped out into the beautifully appointed courtyard, the cool winds wafted the enticing aromas of the surrounding foliage toward them. It was as if the breeze itself was curated to welcome the newcomers to the space, for indeed it was. The Siltori chamberlain led them forward, though he was scanning the area for his prince and would find him on one knee before a bush with dark green leaves and black blossoms. Garbed in a regal black robe to match the flowers, he was extending one pale hand toward a particular bloom and, as they approached, they would see a small, scarlet caterpillar with black stripes inching its way up his index finger toward his pale palm. The chamberlain bowed, and made his exit.

"This little guest preceded you and I thought it auspicious." The Blazing Prince observed in his baritone, without lifting his gaze from the caterpillar. "A Bloodsilk caterpillar. They travelled with your armies across the Crystal Sea when you came to conquer Ailizane. They flourished here, though I believe they are extinct in Atraxia." He slowly rose to his full six feet and five inches, smiling faintly and approached Arvælyn and Finn to display the scarlet inchworm.

"They arrived as invaders, but have come to be beloved here and, bearing the colours of our banners, they are most welcome in this d'Averyx household, as are you both." He inclined his head, "Your Exalted Highness. Your Grace."

"Your Blazing Highness."

"How fares your sister Valæra? I very much enjoyed the time we spent together in Aur'arnis during her extended visit. I trust her recent afflictions have not tarnished her beauty?"

"Indeed not, they only further distinguish her particular pulchritude. She has taken ætherite orbs in place of her lost eyes."

"Which she doubtless utilises to great effect." Prince Qalanar replied with a chuckle, as he turned to deposit the caterpillar on the leaf of a tree that hung near his head. "I am no less pleased to welcome her lovely half-brother and his handsome husband to Zōbrie Āegenka Sombāzmion. Shall we sit?" He gestured toward marble benches arrayed around a fountain the flow of which was curated by spirits of air and water, dancing in its midst.

Arvælyn nodded and moved to take a seat, as Qalanar perched on the bench across from him. Though he looked no older than the Solunarian envoy, the Blazing Prince had a good four score on them, but none of those many decades diminished his striking beauty. The telltale sign of silver witchmarks crept just above his collar, barely visible against his pale neck as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and look at the pair across from him. He observed them both at length, his violet gaze lingering longest and latest upon Finn.

"Here we are. All of us favourites of mighty Gods. Surely there is concord to be mined from this, yes?"

[Finn]

His Grace acknowledged yet again, Finn bowed more formally.

"Your Blazing Hightness," he said in time with his husband as if they were singing a duet back in Kalzasi before so much that was hidden was revealed to them.

"Thank you."

The marble bench was big enough for the both of them, and that suited Finn fine. He tried not to crowd, but to provide a pleasant foil for his royal husband. The princes were talking, so he settled in to listen actively. Their arrival was, as acknowledged, quiet, and so he supposed yet more might be revealed in the balmy air of the garden. His tasks here were myriad, but for the moment, he doubted Thalya would appear, so his focus narrowed.

Not so very long ago, he had thought Kalzasi impressive. It still was, but he hadn't had anything on a par to compare the impressiveness he knew. Solunarium was the realm that had lifted him up, from its humans, its elves, its dragons, and even its gods. All the same, he was mildly surprised that Qalanar's gaze focused so on him. His smile acknowledged, but gave nothing. He felt the invisible crown around his head tense, and he knew that it was glowing faintly. Sometimes it did that, and he assumed it was a sign from Aværys that he was watching, listening.

When Arvælyn didn't immediately answer, he did.

"There is ever concord between my husband and me, even as there is between the Divine Twins. And surely concord must exist between them and the Oathbinder."

Finn wondered, though, whether they would find accord or His Blazing Highness would seek to overawe them. Akrivar was a greater god; Aværys knelt before Eikæn, so would he do the same before Akrivar?

[Arvælyn]

Qalanar's eyes remained fixed upon Finn's searching them as he spoke and for a moment afterwards, a slight smile curling his full lips.

"Then you do not know." He looked to Arvælyn who was tilting his head quizzically, a gesture that, when coupled with his metallic wings, reminded the Aurisian prince of the Solunarian's reptilian background.

"The special relationship between our realms is a natural thing, for your god and mine are kin. Aværys' divinity was born of Akrivar's seed when the world was yet young. Though His Re'hyæan form was born to mortal elves, the god that woke within Him is Akrivar's own son." He paused, to let that revelation breathe for a moment, reaching up to tuck a whisp of raven hair with a silvery sheen behind one pale, pointed ear.

"There are different opinions as to what this means in terms of our relationship with your religion and your realm, but I am of a sympathetic bent. If I am chosen to serve Akrivar's will, why should I not favour the spawn of His glory? If His son has chosen thee, then why should I not, also, favour you?" He mused, as his violet eyes settled on Finn again.

Arvælyn knitted his brow, considering the implications of this new information. The lineage of the Founders was not a focus of Varværyn religion, aside from their elven blood. Where Talon-Arcas seemed fond of broadcasting his relationship to Eikæn, the Divine Twins did not highlight Their heritage. They were more focused upon Their progeny than Their ancestry.

But there was something else this news revealed: Arvælyn, himself, was a descendant of the Burning King: God of Tyranny. Was his severity a product of that? Was he meant to lead his people with the Iron Fist of Akrivar?

"I see, now, wherefore your house has long been aligned with Gens Sol'Aværys."

"Aye, and some remain fixedly so, even as I see the merit in their cousin counterpart before me. Your Highness' sister was most persuasive on that point." He paused, pursing his lips as his eyes danced to Finn.

"I understand you seek the disinherited queen?"

[Finn]

"Streolon," he whispered.

Of course, he knew that Aværys was an entirely new incarnation of the elder god, but while his god was patient with his unending torrent of questions, he hadn't had all of them answered. But while ancient lore was incomplete and often contradictory, the way he understood it, Streolon had perished in ancient struggles, quiescent for eons before being reborn, diminished, in Aværys. The long slog back toward former glory had been bogged down in the mortal hungers of the god-king, though his sojourn in Kaladon seemed to have purged him of that narrow view.

Streolon's realm had been the Abyssal Maw, the obsidian city and the Crawl of Ambition. Thankfully, Aværys' realm was brighter than that, unless he hadn't been shown its true nature.

Qalanar was distracting in his beauty; if he hid the Ash Knight's burning, then perhaps Aværys hid the darker hungers of his former self. When that arresting gaze released him and the princes spoke, he glanced to Arvælyn once more, and then he was on the spot again.

His posture straightened, though he had hardly begun to slouch. He nodded.

"Her ambitions would devour the Pyramid. She is an oath-breaker, cannibalizing her own blood to maintain her grasp on power. Worst of all, she tried to take what's mine." His hand rested possessively upon his prince's knee. He could share Arvælyn with his family, with Varvara Augusta, with his throne, his crown, and all his people, but he would not allow any of them to take his life, not while Finn himself still breathed.

[Arvælyn]

"Or Streleōn in Silandris." Qalanar observed softly.

"It is the same in Vastian and at least the Solunarian dialect of Vallenor." Arvælyn replied with a slight nod.

"Call Him what you will, He was a formidable force in His time and I've no doubt His current incarnation is no less remarkable." The Aurisian prince crossed his legs and let his head loll to one side, one pale cheek resting upon the black silken fabric of his robe.

As Finn's fervour heated his cheeks more than Qalanar's artful features, he arched a dark eyebrow.

"You need not prosecute her case for my sake. Her right to Aurisian support disappeared with her legal claim to the Solunarian Crown. The verbiage of our treaties aligns us with the throne, not any particular occupant thereof. I'm sure you can imagine, we are very particular about the language of compacts here in Auris.

"This is not to say that she is not without sympathy behind the walls of the Aur'raihnish Ring. There are those who would yet support her, but we can no longer do so in a manner that would cause harm to your realm without breaking the law. I know she spent time here before she was forsaken by her kin. She came to Auris to study the Chronomantic Craft, residing in one of my uncle's estates whilst petitioning The Immortals for their aid. All that being said, I do not believe she remains within the borders of the Aurisian Covenant... at least not the version of it we currently occupy. Hopefully she has found a version of reality better suited to her lot and has renounced the pernicious path of trying to warp ours. I do not believe I can offer your more in the way of aid than that, but I will say that I wish you success. She has clearly displayed a frightening level of irresponsibility with an incredibly dangerous Craft of magic."

"We are grateful for your indulgence in this matter, Blazing Highness. Is there anything you would know of us? I am told you had something you wished to discuss with an Umbrian envoy."

"Well, with a Phædryn envoy, but yes." He cleared his throat and sat upright. "I am scheduled to visit your crimson citadel in a few weeks time, and before I travel to Solunarium, there is something of a... petition I would like to discuss. it is of a personal nature, after a fashion, but withal pertinent to our diplomatic relationship."

"Do go on. You have me intrigued."

"Before I make a fool of myself and pursue this formally, I wished to make certain that... Well." He frowned slightly, and averted his eyes from the fiery gaze of his princely counterpart. "Is the Princess Valæra accepting suitors, or is her hand spoken for?"

Arvælyn blinked.

"Why... as far as I know, she has no immediate plans for betrothal, I... Yes, I think that path is clear, Blazing Highness." Only after he responded, did his surprise wane enough for him to recognise what an immense boon it might be for Umbro-Aurisian relations, if their Herald were to become his in-law. This man was not unlikely to become Witch-King of The Aurisian Covenant at some point.

[Finn]

"I do hope to pick up some Silandris while here," he admitted with a rueful smile. "Learning from texts isn't the same as immersion, I've found."

But perhaps he hadn't been sufficiently demure and mindful when the topic of the time-warping former queen of the Luxium came up. He nodded at all the information passed freely over by the prince.

"I appreciate that. I might wish to speak to those chronomancers who worked with her if possible. 'twould be easier not to find her in Auris, in fact. Then it would become a diplomatic issue, which would complicate matters." He wondered whether he would be forced to chase her through time. "The Powers of Solunarium support my quest to bring her to justice, though I must admit that a baser Vengeance is always on my mind."

Khyan wasn't always on his mind, but Finn knew his spirit-thrall did feast upon those feelings. Perhaps he was close now.

As matters turned over to the more delicate, Arvælyn answered for his sister; meanwhile, Finn's smile grew to Cheshire proportions, as if he were a cat who had got into the cream.

Of Arvælyn's Re'hyæan half-siblings, Raithen had been a fast and easy friend. Phocion was ever distant, but they had a rapport even if it was cooler than he could have wished. Valæra, though, was more forceful, more aggressive in some ways, and he had yet to find his footing around her. He rather looked forward to the possibility of Qalanar knocking her off balance. Of course, Finn was unlikely to be present for such a reveal, but he could, at least, imagine.

He wondered if this wedding would take place in the Ash Knight's realm. Arvælyn and his wedding had set the bar rather high as these things went.

[Arvælyn]

"Issa iā gevie udrir." Prince Qalanar replied with a faint smirk. He seemed unconcerned as to whether or not his meaning was understood, as he continued without pausing to translate.

"A worthy endeavour, though I cannot promise they will agree to meet with you. The Immortals are much sought after and, at least in my experience, those who practise Lost Magicks are of a different bent than the rest of us. There is something intrinsically changed in those who seek to manipulate those powers and, in the instance of chronomancers, their... relationship with time can make them very difficult to pin down, unless they have a particular vested interest in whatever you seek to address with them. Even a prince royal cannot blithely demand an audience. They are given a great deal of discretion."

He nodded,

"I understand the desire for revenge. It is wholly natural when something you love is threatened, and I can see you love one another deeply. I hope this doesn't seem invasive, but you took oaths to one another and I can sense their gravity and veracity written upon your Auras. It is a... peculiarity of my particular position that I am aware of these things."

"If I may be so bold as to speak on your petition on a personal note, I do not know Your Highness well, but I do know that my sister speaks fondly of you. And, speaking for myself, I think it would be a great honour to have our houses linked by marriage. I understand what import such vows must represent to one such as you."

"Indeed it is not a matter I broach lightly. I have spent my first century a bachelor, and I do not rue it a whit. I hope that my patience serves me well in this."

"I shall be a champion of your suit, Blazing Highness, as I expect the whole of Phædryn's dynasty shall be."

[Finn]

Finn puzzled over the phrase, though that line of thinking was interrupted by the talk of chronomancy. He didn't think it wise to share the fact that his husband's family had one as well, though he hadn't yet met that particular elf. And as the prince began to speak of the oaths between him and his husband, he could only smile. There was nothing bashful about it anymore. Finn wasn't quite smug about it, but he was growing into the idea that he was a part of Arvælyn's hoard. Whether Arvælyn knew that Finn was growing equally possessive, he didn't know. More dyed in the wool Kalzasern in culture, he wouldn't care so much if Arvælyn's lusts expanded to other people, or even his heart, he would brook no rivals to the level of commitment between them. Their love and their marriage transcended most; it had been sealed by their Gods personally, and while he might not have made a thrall of Arvælyn, nor Arvælyn bound him in silver chains, the shapes of their souls were changing such that they were matched pieces of a puzzle.

"While I didn't go running toward marriage, Your Highness, and while it hasn't simplified life, I can say that I am happier now, more content with how I fit into the world, than ever I was as a bachelor. If it be Valæra's will that you be her match, I hope the next hundred years of your life eclipse the former." He smiled in all sincerity. And if she didn't wish to be wed to this handsome prince, he would not want to be in the room if Cithæra attempted to force the issue.

Collateral damage.

Drawing back around to the changes wrought upon practitioners of the more mysterious branches of the arcane, he wondered, "Do you suppose that chronomancers grow closer to Velar and Vicis? My golden god gave no rune, but merely an emblem. Yet I cannot say that I truly understood his domains at all until he did."