Legend of Ransera

Finn's mouth opened to clarify on the point of Aniyah, but Phocion was quicker on the uptake. His eyes went thoughtful at the mention of a more rural home for his family. His parents, at least, would likely enjoy existing both in a smaller village as they were accustomed to and the city where all was new and shiny. His sibling, their husband, and child, might feel the same. Ciarán would likely whine if he was separated from Umbrian debauchery. Finn was going to have to teach him how to mitigate those urges somewhat; moderation in all things.

He was not above a touch of Mesmer added to a lullaby to soothe his nephew to sleep, though he figured he would have to be more careful with Sirena. It hadn't occurred to him to present himself to her with Aværys' grace. Perhaps a touch of it here and there might lend a sense of patriarchal awe to his imagine in her mind. But, as Phocion said, much needed to be discussed before all decisions were made.

"Verro, Vigilia."

He turned and half-led, half-accompanied his husband back to where he had left Sirena and Aniyah to the revelation of pancakes.

"Sirena," he said, and perhaps there was a faint smudge of gold in the air around his hallowed head as he knelt beside her and Aniyah bowed low to the prince. "This is my golden prince I told you about. Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps, but you should call him—"

"Your Exalted Highness," she said, precocious and calm, standing and bowing in a fair imitation of Aniyah's. "Thank you for your hopsitality." With only one stumble on her short script, Finn smiled approvingly. He, at least, thought she was adorable, even if she might be dangerous. After all, quite a bit of naturally-occuring beauty was dangerous. Take Arvælyn, for example.

Finn rather hoped Phocion too was at least somewhat impressed by Sirena's comportment. He had only had one sleepless week with her, but she was behaving herself and showing due deference to one of Solunarium's thrones.

"Finn kept me safe. Finn killed the monsters." Her face screwed up in thought at the question. "In the place I was before... It felt real. Now it seems a dream. I had someone who took care of me." Her hand sought out Finn's. While she hadn't given Aniyah undue problems, it was clear to whom she felt attached without the need of any arcane meddling in her mind.

"It was real, though." She looked to Finn, who nodded gently.

"I never knew Lyra to be a... dreamwalker. But the egg... it was clearly magical, and so perhaps it mesmerized her into a didactic dream while it kept her safe and hidden." They still didn't know whether it had been an incubator as she grew, or kept her in stasis until such time as he released her. He could take an Assessor back and vault them home with much greater ease now, at least if the Zaichaeri Order hadn't further meddled with the site, but for now it was likely best to let that bees' nest settle rather than stir it up again. While he was more partial to a pax with Kalzasi, he didn't want to be responsible for closing the door on a pax with Zaichaer.

Strange times made for strange bedfellows, and these were certainly strange times.

When the door opened, Finn was waiting. He walked in immediately, dropped a bow and a respectful "Vigiliae."

As they had long ago dispensed with him standing at attention and giving reports, he took the seat beside his mother-in-law. The query made sense; he assumed she had read reports, but wanted to hear it directly from those working with her. He considered.

"She seems to be acclimating to life in the village," he said. "She has her mother's intelligence, though I cannot say yet whether she has her mother's cunning. She is reserved, observant, and well-behaved. I believe she has the requisite empathy to understand what the adults around her want and give that to them so she is otherwise free to do as she pleases. My family has indicated that they could be persuaded to move to the village and help in her raising, give her some sense of a family unit since she imprinted upon me and so, by extension, might feel a bond with them. They are also peregrini, and learning how to integrate themselves with the Solunarian populace, so they might actually help each other. My sibling and brother-in-law trust my judgment, and I trust the judgment of Phocion and the Assessors, so if they deem her safe enough for it, she might learn from having another child around her as well.

"With regard to the state religion, I cannot say whether she has any true religious feeling. I do not recall how I related to the Gods in my youth, not at that age. But I have fed upon a little of Deus Aværys' grace whenever in her presence, underscoring what authority she sees in me with His divine Majesty. Perhaps that will lay a groundwork for the future. I do believe that she would respond better to awe than Our Lady's chains. But perhaps Vrædyn Princeps might be a better judge of that than I am."

He paused, then, "I am certain you have read my reports and those of others. I am necessarily kept in the dark about certain aspects of her nature, but if Your Serene Highness has specific questions, I might give you more germane answers."

Finn inclined his head to Phocion's input, glad that classism didn't prevent him from understanding and appreciating his point of view on this aspect of Sirena's upbringing.

He inclined as well to Phocion's mother, who was abrupt. He didn't necessarily want her speaking directly into his mind—or reading it for that matter—but he did rather wish he was included in those discussions she had with Phocion right in front of him. After all, he had married another son of hers and worked faithfully for this one in the Custodes Deorum, which was, by extension for her as the Vigilia Magna. But then, mothers-in-law were meant to vex, he supposed.

She knew better than he did about Varvara Domina, however. His sacrifice of Syren's lute had pleased her, but other than that, she seemed content to leave him to her brother, who had chosen him. He might claim some special knowledge of Aværys' mind, but not his twin's.

Finn stood respectfully as she took her leave.

"Verro, Domina."

And then he was alone with Phocion once more. He considered. According to his own parents, a parent's duty was to guide their children, educate them, and all, but to gradually release control as they grew older, as they grew into themselves, and would have to, perforce, make their own decisions. He didn't know whether that could be true in this case, but perhaps if he did evangelize her, Aværys would protect her. He wanted to believe that Lyra would return for her, that Lyra would be grateful to Solunarium, to the Custodes Deorum, and to the Divine Twins for the succor they offered her daughter, and the same would be true of Sirena herself, or whatever Lyra had intended to name her.

He supposed he would have to play the Golden Father, and pray that it was for the best.

"Verro, Vigilia," he said, quietly. If she became his thrall, his Leh'anafel, then he could, at least protect her. Perhaps she would be the one to succeed him in the fullness of time. He bowed, and wondered sometimes whether Aværys spoke through him as it sometimes seemed Varvara spoke through Phocion. But he had been dismissed, and so he made to depart, his orders given and received.