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011 » we both know that things could get messy
fanart by 8koenji.bsky.social.
for louis at luciferi.
fanart by 8koenji.bsky.social.
for louis at luciferi.
fanart by 8koenji.bsky.social.
for louis at luciferi.
fanart by 8koenji.bsky.social.
for louis at luciferi.
no subject
Louis turns against the door, waiting patiently there like a good guard. never really at attention, but always somewhat loose and confident.
he'll get used to Will's habits, and he seems hardly perturbed that Will has begun to change in front of him. it's part of his duty now to guard him through the naked times, as well as the clothed. ]
You seem rather excited about this.
[ Will does not need to accompany him, but he wants to. there's some enjoyment in the need to face Forden for what he is, and for that Louis can wait. there's many things curious about Will, particularly how unlike the king he is, even if he's been kept away for this long. Louis wonders, absently as the prince changes, what kind of person that he'll turn out to be when this ends? ]
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[ What kind of person is the prince, really? They've had several conversations already, but this is a new sort of face he's showing Louis now. The soft-spoken, gentle young man with a heart of gold and a sensitivity around his people — that aspect of him seems authentic, but this prince is a rather different sort of beast. Spiteful, angry. He's real, too; the bitterness in his voice is not one that is easily imitated. ]
Not that I'll do so on this particular occasion...
[ A soft clattering of buttons, the gentle rustling of clothes, and then the prince emerges soon enough, wearing a white-and-gold ensemble that is, ostensibly, more appropriate for meeting the Sanctifex. He pulls on his gloves as he joins Louis by the door, eyes flicking casually over his new personal knight once again. ]
But a throwing of the gauntlet seems appropriate. He should know that the little mouse he failed to exterminate has grown large enough to nip at his ankles.
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is the prince someone who is content living a life within these confines?
they head through the door – Will first, and Louis in tow. the prince's legs are much shorter than his new knight's, but respectfully, Louis keeps a pace a few steps behind him. ]
More than a nip, perhaps he challenges you to draw blood. He is shrewd, and may not counter until he's challenged. This alliance that we currently hold is a bold declaration.
[ he wonders, idly, how long the prince has been showing his teeth. while the king gets more frail, his son fills with fire. ]
In that, he may move directly at the king if he cannot make a move at you.
[ his tone is somewhat low, but not hushed. while he's not overly vigilant, he's rather aware of their surroundings. there are many things he knows about the palace, and even the walls have ears if you speak loud enough. their steps echo off the stone and through the hallways, past the royal apartments and toward the greater halls. ]
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His eyes are downcast and thoughtful. ]
...Forden will never target my father in the way that you are thinking.
[ He sounds strangely certain. Even somewhat bored, as though he is a student reciting lessons learned and not a curiously confident assessment of the danger his own father is in. ]
Though, the reason why... that is a story that would better be told in my quarters. [ They are out in the hall now, after all. ] Trust me when I say 'tis so. He would murder the king's wife, kill his son — but not the king himself. Never the king himself.
[ Pointedly, after they've made their way about halfway down the hall to the reception room where Forden is presumably waiting for Louis, Will turns around and extends his arm, clearly expecting his knight to take it. Why, and to what end...? ]
Come, let me have your arm.
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it certainly would strike up some conversation among the castle's servants. ]
As you will.
[ the pause outside the senate chambers, Will reaching for him in a curious act of rebellion. wanting to see what the prince has up his royal sleeve, Louis offers the hint of his elbow from beneath his cape, allowing him to do as he sees fit with it.
Forden expects Louis alone, he's certain of that, so the accompaniment of the prince will be a surprise – they may even slightly catch him off guard. this won't be enough to trip up Forden to the extent that they could wage a counter attack, or prove any use to his ambition, but he is petty enough to revel in a momentary victory over the cruel old man.
the senate chamber is draped in shadow with a small walkway that leads to the center of raised chairs, only one of which are occupied at the moment. it's meant to be intimidating, so Louis refuses to be intimidated. in his opinion, if the chairs must be raised for one to feel greater than someone else, they must be lacking in other places. it suits Forden.
with an easy stroll he walks beside Will, not tempering his stride, curious how the prince will keep up with him being slightly shorter. they make it to the center and Forden looks down at the two of them, Louis looks up with a hint of satisfaction, knowing that the man must be hiding the surprise in his own expression. ]
You called for me, did you? I would request that you now gauge my time on par with the prince's, as you can see that I have new duties to attend to.
[ he says smoothly, the way that no one else would address the Sanctifex. ]
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He is irked. Many things about the situation in front of him are irksome at present, though he ever strives to practice and project the serenity and peace of mind which he preaches, and he will not falter in that now, in front of Louis Guiabern of all people. He was not there, that night he sent soldiers to raze that overgrown patch of western forest that the eldas called their sanctum; he has no way of knowing that the clemar nobleman in front of him was ever a blond and blue-eyed boy who watched his parents burn alive on the torchfires of the Sanctist igniters. He suspects, sometimes — but he does not know, and it does not matter to him. Who or what sent Count Louis Guiabern to be a thorn in his side is irrelevant. What matters only is that the man is a thorn in said side, and clearly hates the Church to which Forden has toiled his entire life, half because he knows it gives him the power he has always sought, and half because he himself is a true believer in the faith. He would not have come this far, if he were not a true believer of the faith.
...The boy is another story. Forden often regrets that he tolerated the prince's presence for too long, but by the time he found out where the king was keeping his paramour and his bastard, it was too late — the boy had already grown into something that foolish scholar was attached to. Even after arranging for the death of the woman that had seduced Hythlodaeus and led him off course, Forden thought that he might still be able to sway the situation to his advantage — perhaps his pulse had quickened slightly at the hope that the child would either resemble the king or be as malleable as he was in his youth. And yet, not only was it elda, it looked like her.
The Sanctifex has arranged countless times since then to have the thing murdered in its bed, but time and time again the assassinations have failed, been thwarted by that one-eyed drunken lout, that Grius. Even Rella, that useless twit, had only snarled up her curse and let the boy escape in the arms of that idiot daughter of the Hulkenbergs. And now the young prince leans on the arm of the military officer that has served as Forden's chief opposition within the royal court, wearing a smirk as if he, too, knows the siren song of seduction, just like his unclean wench of a mother —
Outwardly, Forden simply closes his eyes for a time, and sets his jaw, leaning back in his seat.
"I believe I called only for Count Guiabern's presence at this meeting," is how he opens, though this does not seem to be the point of the meeting at all.
Will knows full well what he is doing. What sort of a man Forden is, and what sorts of secrets he has borne for over fifty years. He had a feeling that this sort of display would aggravate Forden — that the sight of the eldan prince on the arm of a gallant young clemar would spark unwanted memories and jealousies so impossibly twisted that they no longer even resemble desire. He knows, which is why he smiles gently, resting the whole of his palm upon Louis's forearm in a manner that is nearly possessive.
He had no problem keeping up with the pace of Louis's longer legs, adapted quickly to the change in pace. It does not even bother him overmuch that he has no true bond with Louis at present, no way of knowing how Louis will respond to certain moves. He is improvising, at present, and Will can be very, very good at improvising. ]
Surely there is nothing that cannot be said about the country's defense in front of its crown prince, Your Eminence.
[ "The rebel forces to the north are stirring. They plot against you, Your Highness," Forden says, venom dripping from the title as he says it with the barest hint of sarcasm. "It is a matter of utmost importance, and as general of the royal army, it falls to Count Guiabern to put them to rout. Yet you would compromise his interests by appointing him as your royal knight instead." ]
Is there a reason he cannot serve in both roles?
[ Coquettishly, Prince Wilhelm rests his head on Louis's shoulder, though at his height it's more like a gentle nuzzle just above Louis's elbow. ]
The army has many generals. You should send a lesser officer. I can think of at least three majors who would jump at the chance to prove themselves.
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this is a ploy to get a rise out of him, and he can feel it working. centering himself, he needs to remember the bigger picture. ]
Reliance on me alone will make poor soldiers in the future. I did not think your ranks so desperate for leadership that you would need me to quell a simple uprising. If are skilled warriors in the north that mean to make their way to the capital, then they can cross swords with me at the prince's bedside.
[ there is a game here – one that Will has started by brushing his weight against him, curling an arm through his own. when Count Guiabern speaks, the intention is deliberate – he means to make Forden question their relationship. for now, it doesn't matter what there is between them, only that Forden has to think twice about it, guess it, possibly make his own assumptions about it. the less that is scrawled in stone, the better.
it's always like this – a standoff of two proud men, dancing around their blades. if Louis did not know that there were guards flanked close to the Sanctifex, he might think it worth it to go for his throat here and now.
there is a low, deep hum as Forden leans back in his seat, his hand still clenched around his staff.
"Is it? If I'm not mistaken, the one that had attempted to lay a curse upon His Majesty is still free, and none have answered for it. I've been told it was a skilled mage, one of your caliber, perhaps? It may be upon the king to review your qualifications before you are to take the mantel of royal knight to his son."
Louis knows what this means – it's a threat. ]
Then your intentions could not be more blatant. If you're accusing me of treason, I would dare you to see it through to trial, and hope dearly that you can find enough skill among your men to replace me.
[ "He is clearly smitten with you, is that your doing too, Count Guiabern? If you could not fulfill your ambitions in cursing him, it would be far easier to get him to trust you. It seems that it's worked." ]
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The Prince Wilhelm that Forden knows is a shallow thing, a petulant thing. Spoiled, whimsical, wild, free. A little stupid, a little foolish, to hide the fangs and claws lurking just beneath the smile. He's exactly the sort of stupid young man who would be easily manipulated by sex.
Will has never wondered whether or not Forden knows that this act is entirely false. What matters is that playing the role aggravates him, and as long as it aggravates the man, Will is resolved to be the most frivolous, foppish little eldan prince that ever existed. He laughs ever so carelessly, tossing his hair a little with his free hand. ]
Your Eminence! Please, there's no need for such protectiveness. That investigation — wasn't it closed long ago?
[ Naturally, Will knows that the Sanctifex's concerns are not borne of protectiveness. But he can have that as a flimsy excuse. Really, bringing up his own assassination from nearly ten years ago... How desperate must the doddering old priest be? ]
I think you will find it hard to convince my father that Louis is the one who attempted to curse me when we are so very close. And he's more than proven his loyalty to me...
[ Louis has done nothing of the sort, but that doesn't matter. Will can sense that Louis has picked up on why the prince has been falsifying this relationship between the two of them, so it falls to him to go along with it. ]
It would be such an inconvenience to send him up north. And... you don't have the official capacity to do such a thing, now that I think of it. Perhaps you should petition my father for an audience? You and he are such good friends.
[ Really twisting the knife there. Will fixes Forden with a saccharine smile, continuing to enjoy the warmth of Louis's arm. ]
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nothing is better for a broken system than royalty that sticks to their convictions.
(better than a king that he knows.)
Louis crosses his arms in front of his chest – that his hand is not as his sword speaks for itself. Will busies himself at his side, flippant and vapid in their performance. ]
There are also leagues of monks with battle experience under your thumb. Despite your claims, and due to the increase in attempted assassinations, it is more advantageous to have someone with battle experience under the direct command of the prince. He has chosen me himself, I would hope that you trust his judgement.
[ he looks more irritated than angry (perhaps some irking that Forden would not yield to an elda, even if that elda was royalty). ]
I do not answer to you, nor your faith. Do not waste my time again.
[ as if that were that, he dismisses himself. it's an insult to do so, and Louis is quite aware of how rude his boldness is, but he simply does not want to see Forden's face anymore.
the old man winces behind him as his footsteps echo from the room. a silent dare hangs in the air for any of Forden's forces to try and stop him, but no one does. it's enough for Louis to know that he does not want confrontation, at least not yet.
his pace is so swift that even the servants move to step briskly out of his way as he heads back through the main hallway. ]
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I believe my royal knight has made his point clear. Pray excuse us, Your Eminence.
[ With that, he turns to leave, calmly walking out of the room at his own pace.
Once his steps are far enough away from the Sanctifex's meeting hall that he's certain none of the warrior monks are watching or listening in on him, Will quickens his steps, half-skipping, half-running down the hall to catch up to Louis. His feet can't carry him far, though — after a few paces, the prince gets impatient, drawing his sword out of its scabbard so that he can glide on it (in a rather ill-mannered and boyish way).
At length he catches up to Louis, riding with whimsical ease on his sword, his hands folded behind his back. It's... kind of like having the prince casually slide up next to you on a scooter. ]
Well! You know how to make an exit, don't you?
no subject
and he's humored Forden long enough.
it's not hard to keep up with him, while he certainly made a scene in storming out, he still has a duty to keep an eye on Will, and he will also not allow Forden the opening he desperately wants to put a knife at his throat. he gives the prince a rare, curious glance atop the sword, but doesn't comment (yet, anyway).
he's among the pillars in the hall, merely waiting for Will, wasting his time doing than rather than speaking with Forden. ]
Even small acts can be that of bold manipulation, and I simply reminded him that since I'm under oath to protect you, and that I will no longer comply when he beckons.
[ it's a challenge to Forden's authority, who thinks he can call in Louis (and possibly the prince) whenever he likes. ]
Perhaps we should get you a very tall chair so you can look down upon him the next time he tries such a display.
[ is that a height joke? yes. ]
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[ Furrowing his brow, the young prince puts some effort into making his sword fly up a little higher, but there are reasons that efficient magical flight was long known to be one of the foremost unsolved problems at the Mage Academy, and this effort seems to tire him out a bit quicker than it perhaps should (being a gifted mage himself, Louis might be able to see ways in which Will's magla expenditure is a little wasteful in this particular endeavor).
The prince floats up to be about Louis's height, then wobbles on the blade; realizing that his spellcraft is making him dizzy, Will gives up, letting the blade fall back down to its usual height with a faintly exhausted sigh.
...He's surprisingly playful and childish, like this. ]
It's too bad I'm not a fairy like Gallica. Then I could just float to whatever height I want to be...
[ Gallica must be another one of his companions... ]
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Fairy, is it? Another surprise from the young prince.
[ though he wonders how many of those there will be as the two of them continue this dance: reaching forward bit by bit, feeling the other out, curious to the other's true intentions. ]
A floating sword, armor from magla, and a fairy companion. I suppose I fit in well with this eclectic mix that you've amassed. Come, I'm certain he's having us followed. There are wards that need to be checked in your quarters to ensure they are to my liking.
[ with or without Will perched upon his sword, he heads back to the prince's room. somehow, Louis Guiabern seems diligent in his duties as the prince's protector. for all the rumors about him, there are some eccentricates that don't quite peek through. ]
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[ The wards are royal magic of a kind that Will has never bothered with double-checking because they are woven into the very construction of the palace. Not that he minds Louis re-examining them, of course; it simply surprises him, firstly, that the man would think to do so, and secondly, that the man even noticed them to begin with. He looks more like the type whose martial might was proven by his bladework and not his spellwork, but Will supposes that there was a very good reason after all that people started calling Louis Guiabern "the Archmage." ]
And if they are not to your liking? Will you make new ones?
[ When they return to Will's room, it would appear, at least, on face value, that nothing in the young man's room has been changed. On the air, however...
Something feels different. About the magla of the place. Surely the wards were not broken, but... it would have been a simple thing, for someone in Forden's camp to take advantage of the improptu "meeting" to plant something inconspicuous...
Will is quiet as they return. He seems to be aware that something has been altered, but he also wants to see how Louis will react to the violation of his quarters. ]
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the royal magic holds a certain type of authority, but Louis has no respect for any type of authority, so where this may seem blasphemy to some, he could care little. he knows that Forden does not, either, as much as he preaches otherwise. ]
Perhaps. If such a fool has tampered with your quarters, then there is a vulnerability in defense. If we expose it, we may also potentially have some fun with the one who thought they could dupe you.
[ it's curious that the prince can tell as well as he can, but that may be that they both are adept to it in ways that others are not.
Louis sets a hand on the doorframe, gently drawing it up in a gesture that looks delicate coming from a man of his stature. there is a look of quiet contemplation on his face, slightly devious to see if anyone would be so bold as to infiltrate the prince's quarters. ]
Someone wishes to tell when you come and go.
[ he says, gently tugging at the artificially created magla pathway, laying over one of the wards. it's easy to spot now that he's pointed it out. ]
You've become a threat.
[ there's a show of amusement from Louis, who seems rather thrilled at the prospect. ]
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He cannot think such things because he knows full well that Louis has yet to earn his trust, so Will says nothing about it, and merely imitates the gesture. Will can manipulate magla patchways as well as any archmage; he takes hold of the one that Louis pointed out, and draws it nearly taut enough to snap it in half. With cold dignity, he casts a glance in his personal knight's direction, curious to see what his reaction will be. ]
Well? Shall we break it and let our guest know that we've caught on to their scheme?
[ The question is meant to probe for a response, a reaction. The idea of an intruder in his personal quarters does not surprise the prince; such schemes and machinations have haunted him as long as he has been alive. What he is more interested in is what Louis's reaction to such an insult will be. ]
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Is that what you wish to do?
[ he asks, unabashedly challenging the prince. ]
What would be most beneficial to the cause that you're pursuing?
[ ultimately it's Will's choice, and Louis will deal with whatever consequences come of that choice – he is Will's knight. however, there's something curious about the way that Will works, about what kind of person he is, and the potential of what type of person he could be.
Louis can't help but find himself more intrigued than he normally tends to be about people. ]
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As entertaining as it would be to allow them to spy on me for a time to lure them into a trap...
[ He turns his gaze pointedly in Louis's direction, pulling the strings like so many silver spiderwebs around his middle finger, gazing at his new knight's lips — ]
I enjoy a bit of privacy in the evenings.
[ — so saying, he snaps the magla web outright, breaking the original caster's spell into unrecognizable ribbons that soon disintegrate into motes of magla on the air. Then he dusts off his hands, as if he's done nothing more interesting than clean up a few specks of dirt in his room. ]
You feel the same way, don't you?