Prince Fetching

[Mino]

8 Glade 121

He wasn’t sure why they chose him, but they had.

Lady Blue had stared down at him, an air about her that was all that she needed to convey what she wanted. Don’t disappoint. Her gaze had sent a chill down his spine. If she didn’t want that, then she should have gone herself. Or someone else. Someone not him. He’d steeled himself, though, and did as she said because there was nothing else he could do. If he had thought to rebel, it was quashed by the faint sting of his collarbone as he moved to stand upright. The brush of the fabric of his shirt over the raised skin of his brand had brought back the sting of the memory of sizzling flesh. His own. He blinked back the burn of tears at the memory. He sucked in a breath, lifted his head as he looked up to the steps of the palace.

The times that Mino had been here had been...different. For one, he had been on four legs rather than two. And the other bit — he’d been here for Fawn. There’d been little interaction with people aside from the guards that would have double-checked what the strange cat was doing in the palace in the first place. Nothing had changed, but it all still felt foreign to him. Maybe it was the difference of vantage point. He took the steps slowly, gaze sliding over his surroundings.

There was a notable thing that had changed since last he’d graced the palace: his intentions. Being here on business only seemed to make the visit all the more strange. Going anywhere in an official capacity was usually reserved for the Lady and her entourage. But — here he was. He wondered if that meant something. It could mean nothing. I could mean everything. His body vibrated with the prospect that maybe he would be traded off to another color if this didn’t go well.

He knew exactly who would try for him if that were the case. The ghost of her fingers crept up his spine, danced over the back of his neck. The hairs there stood on end as he took a few more steps. The day wasn’t particularly cold, but he felt a chill hit him. He rubbed his hands together, thought better of stuffing them in his pockets.

He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat as he was escorted to the waiting area. He doubted that the High Lady would come to see him, despite the request — but he was hopeful. He licked his lips, ears twitching as he gazed around the room he’d been stuck in. He wandered a bit, let his hands slide over the furnishings. Then, through his hair. Best to keep his hands off the things in the room; he ought not steal from the palace, of all places.

Even if the glimmer of the room was enticing.

[Paragon]

Prince Fetching

8 Glade 121

The melodies played softly in her mind as she hummed to their steady tune. The notes were threaded with playfulness, confidence, a dash of cockiness but were at their core, as pure as she had always wanted them to be. Music that touched upon the rhythms of her soul wove its way into her heart eliciting a smile from her as she continued to hum. Her hands brushed tenderly over golden brown eagle feathers. Sahfri sat upon a cushioned chair as her younger son played his guitar. She carefully brushed her fingers through the feathers of his wings, meticulously brushing away dirt, loose or ill-formed feathers, all while humming along to the tune that both of them heard. Mind to mind, she and her son played a song born from the symphonies of their inner being and she was filled with pride.

“You have mastered the Nocturne, I see.” Sahfri could feel the smile in her son’s mind as well as his face. Though his eyes did not open as he continued to strum at his guitar, she felt his acknowledgement.

“Yes, mother. After what happened in Ash, I thought it best to learn. After what Talon has told us...” There was a shared thrum of silence between the two of them as the memory of autumn’s attack presented itself in their minds. The attack had shaken their family. Someone had attempted to assassinate Talon. Sahfri knew who that someone was. The answer had been found not long after the attempt had been made. But after what her eldest son had revealed to the family at the beginning of the season, there had been anger. There had been disbelief. There had been relief...and there had been an insurmountable amount of pride in what Talon had become. Still, for the grief he had caused, he had been properly reminded to be wiser in his action. His return also did not negate the fact that twice in less than two seasons, killers had targeted the Heir of House Novalys. That had put them all on edge, no matter how much stronger he had come through in the aftermath.

“Has he been told?” Sahfri felt Rien’s mind brush over her thoughts. She captured his attention gently and guided him to the rhythm’s of thought where the answer he sought lay. The strumming of Rien’s guitar ceased as he stiffened. She lightly brushed over a few of the ruffled feathers in his wings.

“Your brother has enough on his mind.” It was only because she and her younger son were practitioners of Mesmer that they were able to hold the information revealed to them in the palace thus far. It was only a matter of time however before whispers of the truth went beyond the walls.

“And the necromancer?” Sahfri smiled.

“Spying on me, my little phoenix?” There was a corresponding note of amusement that trilled through Rien’s thoughts. It pleased her to know that her son had become skilled enough to be able to subvert some of her wards. “All is as it should be thus far. She visited the Monument, it would seem. Time will tell the consequence of that meeting.”

The soft shuffle of feet across polished wood floors announced the arrival of another. With their arrival, Rien returned to strumming his guitar softly. Sahfri resumed grooming her son’s wings paying careful mind to each feather. A quick glance through the thoughts of the approaching chamberlain told her all she needed to know. A curious visitor. She was in a better mood that day. As the man opened his mouth to speak, Sahfri spoke without looking up.

“Send him in.” The servant sputtered slightly before bowing.

“Yes, my Queen.” As the man backed away, she again felt the amusement from her son.

“Planning something, mother?” Sahfri smiled, combing her fingers through the auxiliaries of her younger son’s wings.

“Always, my phoenix. Always.”

---

The walk to the den where sat the Iron Queen and her younger son was not a long one. It was a hall that was spacious but comfortably decorated. The taste of House Novalys was that of simple grandeur. There were few grand ornaments that hung from walls but memento’s to family members or their achievements were carefully placed. The result was that each decoration was meticulously arranged to give the palace an almost temple-like feel to it, with each alcove or nook being its own shrine to the departed members. The corridor leading up to the den where sat the Daizokura of House Novalys was one paying homage to some of the more ruthless members of the otherwise valiant house. A statement...or perhaps a warning…

Sahfri was dressed in a simple black silk gown with dull iron bracelets on her wrists. Her head was adorned with the customary circlet that accompanied her attire. The very thing that had earned her the moniker of Iron Queen. She was seated upon a simple chair. A warm hearth crackled quietly in the otherwise cool palace to provide some warmth in the frigid mountain air. Refreshments were placed nearby. She continued to very patiently and quietly groom the immense wings upon her younger son’s back. Rien himself continued to strum his guitar softly. As both Mino and the butler entered the den, neither of the two royals ceased what they were doing to acknowledge them.

“House Lekivian, to see the High Lady of Kalzasi.”

Sahfri continued to hum in tune with the melodies that wove themselves between her and her’s son’s mind. The music was matched by the chords being plucked by the man’s guitar.

“You may go.” The butler bowed and hastily made his exit. After a moment, Sahfri spoke.

“For what purpose does House Lekivian interrupt us?” Sahfri's voice was musical, as though she were on the verge of song. It was silken and pleasant but the question she posed was edged with a sharpness that could not be missed, no matter the feint smile that touched her lips as she continued the work of scanning, one by one, the feathers held tenderly between her fingers.

[Mino]

If his nerves hadn’t been acting up before, they certainly were then. Mino had only just begun to relax, minimally, after stewing in the idea that he would be sent away without meeting anyone. Which, should elicit fear in him, but he’d come to terms with thinking that this was just a doomed errand from the start. He wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Red had orchestrated this all as an excuse to punish him. Because branding him hadn’t been enough for her. But he was retrieved, brought in like a cat out of the rain, and that flicker of nerves started up again.

His ears twitched as his gaze swept over the decoration of the hall. A short walk, but full of much to see. Much to stew on. The shrines to the deceased members of House Novalys had interesting placements, he’d say. House Lekivian had subscribed to paintings and potted flowers; it felt more like there were eyes watching visitors and the children within the walls than the shrines did. More threatening. At least, until the members of the house with far less kind reputations met him towards the end of the hall. Imposing, formidable figures even in death. Mino decided it was probably best that he didn’t think too much on it.

What he could think on was the image of the two royals as he was lead into the room. His gaze lingered on the pair before it was forced to the floor as he bowed. A perfect ninety degrees that remained so until he heard the Iron Queen speak. He hadn’t the good fortune, or misfortune, of being in her presence often — at all — to give the rumors and the gossip surrounding her much of a thought in the moment. Just — she was as beautiful as he’d expected.

Her attention might not have been on him, her gaze on the feathers of her son’s wings. Grooming him. Probably both figuratively and literally, though he wouldn’t have those exact words for it. Mino licked his lips, let a smile spread wide.

How did he word this? Royals were different from nobles, even the great house for which his own aligned itself with. Nobles could be dealt with when offended, with little harm to reputation. But the woman before him wore a crown and wielded power far above his paygrade.

“Well.” He sniffed, glanced at the refreshments. “Everyone loves a good party, and I happen to carry an invitation to a weeklong one.” His ears twitched, frame leaning toward the music. He hazarded a step toward them, eyes on the instrument in Rien’s hands. His ears might have been pointed, but the twitch of them wasn’t quite the same as they would be with their fluffed tufts swiveling with each move of muscle. “I see it was mother-son bonding time that I interrupted.”

Something he couldn't relate to. Lady Blue had no familial feelings for him and Lady Red....that wasn't the sort of bonding he thought was supposed to be present in families. "My mother does the same thing." He didn't quite point at the Iron Queen, but he did gesture toward her and her meticulous combing through Rien's feathers. "Only with fur rather than feathers."

[Paragon]

Prince Fetching

8 Glade 121

As Mino took a step closer to both herself and her son, Sahfri’s winter grey eyes lifted from the feathers of her Rien’s wings. They settled upon the emissary from House Lekivian and though her expression did not change, the warning in her gaze was clear. He could continue to step closer uninvited but doing so would most certainly incur the Iron Queen’s wrath. Ever so slightly, she narrowed her gaze.

“We wonder if all of House Lekivian’s members are so lacking in manners.” Again, Sahfri’s voice retained that musical quality. The lilt of something that could have been mild amusement or annoyance danced around the edges of her words as she regarded him.

“Have you a name, young man? It is customary to introduce yourself as a guest in another’s household. Nor is it proper to be so casual in our presence.” The music of her son’s guitar ceased, prompting her to glance at Rien. Rien looked up from the strumming to turn his attention to their guest. His eyes held the typical Novalys grey tones but there was a hint of blue to them around the edges. The prince did not speak but he studied the emissary carefully.

“Start again, young one. This time, properly. We shall entertain this lesson only once.” Sahfri turned her attention back to the grooming of her son’s wings. Though her eyes returned to the golden-brown feathers, it was clear she was listening and attentive to what Mino had to say. She did not know how House Lekivian raised its children. It was due to this, and the fact that it was her first interaction with this particular member of the household, that she was willing to afford a brief lesson in proper etiquette while in her husband’s palace. Rien continued to study the young man before turning his head to resume strumming at his guitar. She felt his desire to open up and be friendly toward the young emissary. The man was clearly uncomfortable. He would not gainsay her in front of a guest however, no matter if being stoic and silent was against his natural instincts.

[Mino]

Another twitch of his ears.

Really, they should have chosen someone else for this. He was charming enough, but there were limits to charm. Mino dropped into another bow, brows furrowed. “It would be just I, Mino Lekivian, that lacks manners within the house, Your Highness.”

That was the thing. He was charming but only to those that found his peculiarity interesting. If rumor served true, and it usually did in some regards, nothing outside of her family would be interesting to Sahfri. Which, would mean that he needed to make himself interesting. He thought he drew enough attention as it was. His gaze flickered to the prince, who regarded him for a moment before turning back to his instrument.

“I ask forgiveness of my—” He licked his lips, sought the word he wanted to use. Mino didn’t like that, he found. Looking for the right words. It was a different sort of wordplay than he was used to, and it made him feel — No use fretting it now. He needed to stay focused. “Transgressions of speech. I like to think I was the less successful result of raising children from the lowest dredges of society. Works out most of the time, though.”

Mino didn’t have much to offer that would make him interesting, or more so than he thought he already was. Most of what he did have would be considered inappropriate and the High Lady Sahfri had already warned him once. He wondered what a second time would be like. Most likely different from the Lady Blue’s, but not better, he was sure. He let his gaze rest on the floor. Not the same as the wood of his own home, but exuding the same sort of feeling. If that sort of thing were possible of something like wood.

He was a little screwed if he thought the wood was more interesting than he was.

No, the one thing he did have — that was appropriate — was a smile. A smile wide enough to make his dimples pop. To force his cheeks further up his face and make his eyes scrunch up to accommodate them. Little crescent moons with lashes fanning over tan skin.

[Paragon]

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"Your thoughts, prove true.” Sahfri ceased grooming her son’s wings. “Success eludes you. But we shall not place that burden of blame upon your pedigree. A common man can have more worth than a king where a king without worth is hardly a king at all.”

The High Lady of House Novalys rose from her seat. She eyed Mino as one would stare at a piece of dust that settled upon a wall that was as equally interesting. She brought her hands together, taking a step forward. The hem of her dress brushed over the wood of the floor. She readied a dismissal of the young man but paused as she felt a note of curiosity from her son. The Iron Queen turned her head slightly, listening to the thoughts that passed through Rien’s mind. He had ceased strumming his guitar, turning fully to study the young man. The esteemed lady let out a sigh as she recognized in her son the desire to put this one at ease. Bringing up a hand, she tapped the tip of one elegant finger against her chin. Unlike many noblewomen, Sahfri did not douse herself in makeups and perfumes. Her hands were without paint. Her cheeks without blush. The elven beauty of her features were completely her own. In that moment, she was the cold statue that was matriarch to her family and critical of any who entered her domain.

But as she listened to her son’s thoughts, she saw the wisdom in letting him proceed. With the barest nod, she dropped her hands.

“You are fortunate however. I must tend to more pressing matters. My son shall see to you, young Mino.” The High Lady turned, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her son's brow, brushing her fingers through his hair. She spared Mino not another glance as she made her way toward the doors to the den. The door opened without prompting and the First Wife of the Shokaze left to see to other matters.

---

Rien watched his mother leave. He loved her but there were times when he believed she was overly harsh. It was clear that the young man was there only to deliver an invitation but with his mother being so on edge, she seemed less than receptive to any who did not leave all but the best impression on her. As soon as his gaze returned to Mino, the Second Son of House Novalys threaded a gentle Note of calm into the rhythm of the young man’s thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was much warmer and welcoming than his mother’s.

“I am Rien. Second Son of House Novalys. Please, may I hear your invitation? Do you like music?” He would not apologize for his mother. She was Queen and her reputation preceded her as a woman that had little tolerance or patience for the ill-prepared. That was where Rien came in. Where his brother had to tend to matters that would one day prepare him to assume the mantle of Daizoku of their Great House and perhaps even Shokaze, Rien had much greater freedom to be the man he wanted to be. He plucked a few of the strings of his guitar, allowing Mesmeric Notes of calm and ease flow from him in gentle waves.

“You must be hungry. That is quite a journey up the mountain to visit us. Why don’t you take a moment to relax. Then we can see to the matter at hand, yeah?” Rien’s golden-brown eagle wings folded in comfortably at his back. He flashed Mino a smile gesturing for the young man to join him.

[Mino]

Lady Novalys was cold. Harsh, too.

Mino wouldn’t have said that he wanted success the same way that she might define it, but it would probably serve him better to shut his mouth. Which he did, though not with much flair. A flat press of his lips as his gaze dipped down to the floor. The slightest raise of a brow. There was a startling similarity to the Lady Blue and he wondered if maybe they were distantly related. A fool’s thought; what use would a relative of royalty need for the business she dealt in? Or better yet, why would she have need to hide] it.

But it was a distracting enough thought to not think about what sort of impression he had managed to make. Or about the chill that would likely settle into him if the Lady Blue thought that this was not good enough. That speaking with Rien was simply a formality that she wouldn’t be pleased with. It evaporated. He blinked, and that cold creep was gone. No icy fingers threading through his hair, scratching over his scalp.

Mino gaze turned up to the second son as he introduced himself, and he thought that must have been nice. To be second. To not be at the forefront of responsibility. He might have preferred that sort of set up. The thoughts that had once been like icicles slicing through the air to plummet toward the ground had turned into languid strokes of a a breeze through grass. Not quite lethargic, not yet — he wasn’t comfortable enough for that. Even if their furnishings looked comfortable enough for a nap. Like he could plop down on one.

He bowed once more.

“I want to extend my apology to you.” He scratched at the nape of his neck, rocked back on his heels. No, formality wasn’t his thing. Mino did better with polite conversation where he didn’t worry so much about status, even if the other party did. “I certainly must have interrupted a rather nice moment with your mother.”

Nothing he could do about that now. “It’s more....eloquently put on paper, but the House Lekivian would like to invite the illustrious House Novalys to our annual cotillion.” He fingered the flap of the envelope, considered the seal on the back. Lithe digits turned it over to reveal the painstakingly perfect script on the other side. That he couldn’t read, but could admire the loops and tails of, regardless. “A ball on the first night, and an assortment of activities the following days. Your presence isn’t requested specifically, I’m afraid. I wasn’t in charge of that aspect.”

As he spoke, he drifted closer to the Second Prince, gaze flickering to the instrument then the prince himself. “I quite like music.” His ears twitched, a smile following. No teeth; not the time, not the place. But the press of them against his lips as they spread would probably be evident, little bumps beyond his flesh. He hadn’t had the time to indulge much, but if he could — he would have liked to listen to the tones of Fawn’s voice again. “Though, I haven’t had much time to enjoy it, or much of anything leisurely. Busy season, and all that.”

“I’ve made the trip on several times, actually. A friend of mine was granted...stay here while she recovered. You might have seen an overgrown cat prowling around on occasion.” More than several. He didn’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times he’d come and gone. But it had been easier on four legs rather than two, as he had forced himself to do this time around. It wouldn’t, though, stop him from eating food that has been offered. Still wary of the prince, he eyed the other’s feathers. Great wings that could lift him from the ground and carry him into the air. How nice. It sparked memories of being chased by someone of similar structure.

But — food. He focused on that instead. “I’m always relaxed.” As the High Lady of Kalsazi had seen, and not liked much. He let just the barest gleam of teeth show through this time.

[Paragon]

Prince Fetching

8 Glade 121

“I’ve had my fill of eloquence today.” Rien strummed a few more notes from the guitar. He wove together the chords with a bit more of the calming effects of his Mesmeric influence. Only enough to take discomfort away, a gentle suggestion rather than an intrusive demand. He reached for the invitation and upon being presented with it, his eyes roamed over the script, a growing smirk spreading across his face. Shaking his head, Rien set the invitation aside then looked back to Mino.

“Consider the invitation accepted. For both myself and my brother.” He chuckled. “Even if I have to drag him there myself.”

Talon was not overly fond of social gatherings among their peers. Rien understood the necessity of them. They were opportunities to better ingratiate themselves with their fellow nobles. Gossip abounded in such gatherings and that gossip was often what helped shape the direction of the nation. Having run not just his own tavern but a string of them in different parts of the territory, Rien had a fine grasp on the usefulness of directing information.

“Would you like to enjoy it now?” He extended the guitar to Mino, clearly offering the man the chance to either indulge in the comfort of music for a moment or at least politely decline.

“Ah, so you are the caracal cat that has been prowling the palace grounds. Fawn told us to expect a feline visitor and to not be alarmed.” He had visited the young woman in the palace infirmary. Rickter, Telion, Hannah and his brother had been deeply concerned about the young woman’s recovery. From what Rien had been able to gather, she had suffered an attack in a particularly brutal fashion. As he understood it, the man responsible for it was now dead. He had to wonder how many others had suffered at the hands of the perpetrator.

“House Lekivian. The House of Widows.” He gave Mino a knowing smile. Rien was not naive. The truth of the Hatokomon status family was known to him as well as his mother. He had a suspicion that his father was aware of their efforts as well. As for his brother? He had no doubt that Talon was unaware of the darker pursuits of the House of Colors. A part of him wanted to keep it that way. Talon lived in a world where his passions drove him to believe in the good that could reside in people. The Second Son of House Novalys was of a much more cynical mind.

“When were you taken in?”

[Mino]

Mino could feign being relaxed as well as the next child of the House Lekivian, but this felt — genuine. The couches suddenly seemed more inviting than quaint pieces of upholstery to furnish this particular space. Which, made sense given Rien had been sitting. Unless that was special royal training to not show discomfort. But, regardless, the cushions beckoned to him. Rien’s drop in formality was permission enough for him to cross over to one, grabbing a pillow to sink his fingers into as he first sat down.

They said money couldn’t buy happiness, but it certainly could buy comfortable furniture.

His eyelids drooped, half-lidded as he listened to the other accept the invitation on behalf of himself and his brother. Talon — the name was well-known and he’d seen the other prince in passing — but he couldn’t really remember anything outside the sphere of their connection to Fawn and the unfortunate incident that had befallen her. An incident he wouldn’t really refer to as an incident, but his mind was reluctant to think further on it for a better fitting word. The rathari’s head lolled to the side in time to see the royal offering him his guitar.

Sitting up felt like a chore. Maybe this was the difference in money of their houses and statuses. Better not get used to it. “Gods, no, not much of a player. Gave up on playing any instrument ages ago for the sake of my ears.” The shift from elven tips to fur-lined ears was easy as breathing. The tufts at the top of his ears made the flick of them seem more exaggerated than they truly were. “It’s the listening I’m more interested in.” If he slumped ungraciously back into the chair, he wouldn’t say he noticed.

“One and only.” He hadn’t met many rathari that were similar to him in species. Cats were common, but much smaller. The Lekivians had kept few rathari in their number, and they seemed varied in their species. As if they’d been specially selected. He’d rather not follow the implications of that thought. “I make a pretty cat, if I do say so myself.” The flash of his teeth accented a lazy smirk.

A smirk that left him momentarily as Rien smiled back. But it was a smile that knew maybe more than just the name of his house. Or maybe it was just that he could understand the story behind Mino’s upbringing, in some way. He swallowed, lay further back. Sprawled out now, really. One hand draped over the pillow, the other under his head and mashing his cheek up in an imitation of kneading.

He would have to answer the prince. This was a simple question with no further meaning. That was all. Knowing smiles were often given to him when he’d first stepped into the view of the public. Pity, sympathy. Poor little street urchin swept up by a wealthy family. How nice.

“I was...small. Young. Think around eight, or nine.” There was just enough solemness to his tone, but the edge of a purr as he sank deeper into comfort. “Saved my life, really.” He wouldn’t add that his speculations of what he would be like now if it weren’t for them was severely different. He might have had a family. Might have lead an honest life. Might, might, might, might. But he didn’t. “Can’t help but be reminded that I could have been much worse off.”

[Paragon]

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“Can you be so sure?” The question was posed with a note of curiosity to it. “Only the gods know for certain what our lives will look like in the future. Vicis spins the threads of destiny, guiding us toward the fates we choose and the fates chosen for us.”

There was no mysticism in Rien’s voice. He spoke matter-of-factly. The gods were real and determined the fates of the mortals that lived within the realms of the world they created. Like many Avialae, he was a follower of the teachings of Naori, the Dragon Goddess of Chaos and Freedom.

“Some fates are inevitable. Some we make for ourselves. Some are complete and total chance.” Rien plucked out a chord upon his guitar then turned his eyes back to the Rathari sprawled out on the sofa across from him. “I won’t argue with you, Mino. You know your life. I don’t. But I wonder, is it everything you hope for?”

Rien listened carefully to the melodies playing in the Rathari’s mind. There was no judgement in Rien’s gaze, merely the curiosity of someone posing a question. He did not expect a clear cut answer. In fact, Rien didn’t expect an answer at all. He only knew that what he knew of House Lekivian and its children caused him to wonder how deeply ingrained its teachings were to its members.