...Of all the members of the Sanctist council, I think that the Consortium Head is the least interested in Sanctism itself. What they care about, as far as I can tell, is power, and selling igniters.
[ Will shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest in imitation of Louis's own pose; unconsciously, he's a little cold in the night air, and he looks a lot more like he's holding himself to keep himself warm than the way Louis looks, calm and unbothered by the tone of their discussion. Still, the king continues: ]
Most people in your army took up working for Fidelio and Basilio after you disappeared, but there was a more... fervent contingent of your former supporters who have fallen into Sanctist hands and basically become radicals. They never accepted your loss at my hands, they hate me the way their God tells them to hate elda, and they will never accept me as their king. [ A slightly wry smile. He does think the bit about God is a little funny. ] The Consortium Head has supplied them with a supply of igniters that are equivalent to divine relics in power, and given them orders to execute me during my next public appearance.
[ At great expense to their business, no doubt. Will shrugs, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. ]
I found out about the plot because one friend of mine is very good at lying, and another friend is part of the consortium itself. The "liar" has already infiltrated their operation, and the "merchant" is trying to disrupt their igniter distribution route, but things like that are easier said than done.
[ Alonzo and Brigitta, of course. He'd had to stop Brigitta from going wild and razing some of the caravans outright; influential as she already is, she's not that powerful, and it would have been equivalent to her starting an all-out war against her boss. ]
Well... even if they're armed with a bunch of divine relics, I don't really think your former captains can stand against me in a fight. And I could do a lot of things, like, sure, sic Hulkenberg on them, or send Heismay to kill their leaders in the dead of the night. But they could still cause a lot of collateral damage as they're going down, and I don't want to put my "liar" in more danger than he's already in. So I've been thinking.
[ He turns his head slightly, hands wrapped around his thin elbows as he looks sidelong at Louis. ]
These men have no loyalty to the Consortium Head themselves. And they don't have much to fight for if Louis Guiabern returns and tells them to stand down. [ A slight pause. ] That is... if you want to be known by that name again.
[ these sorts of sneaky operations, the ones that require some level of political strategy to solve. Louis had seen it here and there, but now it's laid bare now that they're no longer pitting their wits against one another.
Louis continues without an answer to the question. ]
The weak willed make fools of themselves once again. Between the magla and the relics, all that's required for the possibility of a human emergence is the right mixture of their own petty grievances. Perhaps you are correct, the collateral damage could be devastating if this is allowed to fester.
[ if it were Louis, he would allow it to happen. perhaps he'd go so far as to add the right amount of whatever was needed to create that travesty to prove his own point. this is not up to him, though, and beyond satisfaction, there would be not much of a point to prove. (but oh, the satisfaction.)
in a single motion that could be considered gallant, he shrugs the blanket from his shoulders and drops it over Will's; it's still warm. ]
I'll need to don the guise of a clemar once again. Their former lord announcing himself and demanding they drop their arms without horns will cause the certain backfire you wish to avoid. You and I must take care now, the two of us could be seen as the true threat that we are, if we were so politically motivated.
Guiabern will do for now, it is still useful. The name has power behind it.
[ he tilts his head back, the bright line of his pale skin almost glowing against the skyline. there is something devilish about him when he's like this. ]
Contracting me means that you concede to my judgement. I may kill them if I see fit.
[ He is devilish like this, and Will is taking the devil's bargain. Oh, yes, he knows exactly what he's contracted, and that is what sets him apart from his father; Hythlodaeus V had the right heart, but never the bitter appetite needed to match his enemies in ruthlessness and keep them in check. Will has the steel against his soft heart to keep up with these things, though. Serene smile on his face, his hair bright as the moon as it gleams against the sun's last remnants of light. Here he sits, cutting a deal with Louis Charadrius. ]
Normally, I'd say you shouldn't, but... I think the fact that they've fallen in with the anti-elda Sanctists is proof that they never really understood your ideology at all. And we gave them a lot of other choices. [ They could have joined the Tradian Brigade; they were paying well, with decent lodgings and accommodations. They had a lot of other options besides the ones that led them to this. ] As far as I'm concerned, they're dangerous radicals. You can do what you want with them... within reason.
[ Wouldn't want to repeat the magic experiments, after all, and Will doesn't want anyone turning into humans, given the situation. Regardless, it's as much tacit consent as Louis is going to get out of an idealist like him. The king wraps the blanket around his shoulders calmly, accepting it, and the warmth from Louis's body, in turn. ]
I do want this to be a world where you don't have to pretend to be a clemar, one day. But... yeah. I was thinking as much. People will denounce it as some dirty elda trick of mine if you come back as anything less than what they knew you as.
[ With a small, furtive movement, Will repositions himself slightly, such that he's standing in front of Louis, against the guardrails of the runner. He wouldn't have done it before with everyone watching, even though these are his friends and most trusted advisors, people he has already trusted to guard his life. But, in the moment — elda to elda — there are still some things that Will never told his friends about Louis Charadrius, and —
He leans backward, pressing his small back and his silvery head against Louis's chest. He sighs. ]
...The horns are cute on you, anyway. Even if they're not real.
The hatred sowed by the church runs deep, and the elda have not been proactive in refuting the church's hellish rumors upon them. You and I bear the brunt of those decisions made over the last thousand years, and the differences between the tribes are easily exploited for power.
[ along with Hythlodaeus' and Forden's, but Louis always found them indicative of a deeper, more systemic problem. while the elda were not deserving of what happened to them, far, far from it, but locking themselves away along with the hidden history of the world did nothing but cause a greater downfall. there's some satisfaction in knowing the sanctum is returning to the ruins as it should, as if walking away from the past. Louis' resurrection means that Will, at least, was thinking more pragmatically about the future than his father ever did.
before he knows it, Will has already wiggled between him and the rail, and is offering a soft contact that he'd forgotten about in his madness. soft hair, and a soft expression from the young king as they gaze across the ruins of their former home.
Louis sighs, a momentary break in the thoughts of politics and consequences, as Wil leans into him. he did miss him, didn't he? its still rather unfathomable to him, though he supposes it's one of the reasons he so desperately wanted Will to join him.
Louis Charadrius doesn't sound bad, does it? ]
No one had ever asked of my birthright, only assumed. The differences, perhaps, so miniscule that a little glamour and no one cared to notice.
[ dark lashes fall over his eyes, half-lidded and softer. the warmth in his voice that had been gone so long seems to creep back into the edges. he confirms for Will, because he may as well hear it. while Louis may trap, ensnare, and use omission to fuel his own plots, he does not outright lie. ]
I will not turn these spineless fools to humans, if that's what you're asking of me. They don't deserve as much.
[ they will be reminded of the scum that they are, before either dying in the old world, or becoming part of the new one. ]
[ Louis neither accepts nor declines the contact from Will's small body, so the young king lingers, enjoying — as much as he can, given the circumstances, and the genuine bitterness that once characterized their relationship — their shared touch. Maybe it's only his own naïve conceit, but he wants to think that he can ground Louis like this. Keep him tethered here, to a fragile world that still has hope in it, instead of drifting off to the promise of a different world where love and fantasy would go to die. ]
Things have already changed a little, you know. Most of the Elda moved out of the Sanctum already. They still tend to travel in groups and keep to themselves, but...
[ Will pauses slightly. He's not actually used to being this chatty; he hasn't quite said this much all at once since his coronation. ]
It was something I wanted to encourage, myself. I don't think I can say that I'm an elda in the way that the people who were raised here are elda, but... I also didn't think it was right. To sequester themselves in the one place they were forced into hiding... that didn't seem, to me, the right way to live.
[ Thoughtfully, he gazes out at the eldan village, the place that he'd stayed for years as the "prince," and yet no longer quite remembers very clearly, on account of how many of those years were spent alone and away from others in a pain-induced haze from the curse. ]
And I remembered. That you'd wanted to leave. I think... I would have related to that. The desire to leave.
[ To a young Louis Charadrius, the promises that the soft-hearted scholar named More brought to the village must have seemed like heavensent miracles — and then, when the man failed to deliver on them, the hope he'd felt would have become intolerable. ]
[ it was that fated day when More handed him a copy of that book with precious words about utopia, that Louis would no longer be the same. for a while he looked up to the elder clemar that had come to the eldan sanctum, eagerly asking questions about the world outside the forest.
why – why did the elda lock themselves away? why did they allow the world to shroud itself in lies as they alone sat upon the truth? when More left, the church came with their warrior monks in the name of a cruel and bloody god, then burned everything to ash. the man that had spoke soft words about high ideals was no where, and suddenly it all felt like bile in Louis' mouth.
even after the fire and the loss, running away and hiding himself with glamour, Louis still kept that book. ]
The forest felt like a prison, and I clung to too tightly to the bars.
[ he'd never talked about this before – no, nor had he ever wanted to go back to this place, mentally or physically. it was a representation of everything he hated in this world, as well as everything he lost. it was easier to hate than lose. ]
Perhaps your world will be kinder to them, but they will have hardships nonetheless. Seclusion only feeds the lies, and those beyond the city will still feast, even when their king himself is elda. Yet there is the hard way and the easy way, and the hard way tends to foster strength.
[ Louis tilts his head, allowing Will to stay as close as he likes. that he's not turning him away seems to be his own form of affection and acceptance of the company. ]
The two of us are as elda as any other – raised in this damned place or not – those outside of it see no difference.
[ The answer comes near-instantly, without even a moment's hesitation. Maybe Will is only so fearless because he's never had to feel so weak, helpless in the face of a wall of flame; maybe he's fearless because he's looked into the flames and come away without burns. And yet, there's something beautiful about him all the same because of it. An elda, so unlike all other elda, in the way that they have allowed themselves to hide away their secrets and their histories and existence, in shame and hopelessness and fear.
Even Louis had succumbed, ultimately, to hopelessness and fear.
But Will doesn't treat him as though he did. He'd have every right to: Louis killed his father, Strohl's family (however indirectly), countless others, would have disposed of Fidelio and Basilio just as ruthlessly. Tried to kill him, many times, several times, even through different bodies, and different souls. And yet, at the end of all that's happened — what do they have to fight over, now? What reason does Will have, truly, to hate Louis, when their battle is over, and Will's ideals won the day?
Will leans back, rubs his head just slightly against Louis's chest. Like a cat, marking its territory with hidden scent. ]
[ there it is, bright as Will's eyes, that glorious ferocity. it's freer now, Will answering in an instant without hesitation, like something buried coming to the surface. Louis thinks he is beautiful when he's like this, fearless, balancing on the edge of a blade. he sought this part of Will in open battle, because he didn't know how to bring him again into his company.
Louis presses his fingers against Will's chin, tipping back his head until it's pressed against his chest, and he can look down at him. ]
Will we battle them all?
[ the world does not change quickly, and he's certain that despite Will's approval from the citizens of Euchronia, that the fanatics would certainly find means to take arms against an elda on the throne. the world may have been quelled, but there was still fear and anxiety within it. ]
Though I suppose none could live up to me.
[ it's less a matter of arrogance, and more one of fact. who else becomes so deluded in wanting to kill, that they become a human in the process? ]
[ There's a slightly lilting, teasing edge to Will's voice as he asks this: Are you worried about me, Louis? his tone implies. Not that he's displeased. But it is very funny to think that, after several mutual attempts to kill each other, Louis now confesses that it is a comfort that there is no one left to threaten the two of them united, at least not in a way that matters. Should Will take it as a confession that he cares?
He won't prod, because he knows well enough to know that Louis is a man who values his pride. But it's a good first step, Will thinks. If nothing else, perhaps it shows that Louis has let go of that mad ruthlessness which once characterized him as a candidate.
He looks up at Louis, pleasantly upside-down and still very pretty for it, blinking his big, watery blue eyes. His hair shines with starlight beneath the night sky, silvery-blue, like moonstone in the right lighting. ]
We'll battle them if they're foolish enough to attack.
[ He leans his cheek ever so slightly into the blond elda's hand, but he also seems content to hold himself where Louis has placed him. ]
A part of me hopes they do. A lot of people will find it very inspirational to see Louis Guiabern routing his enemies once again.
[ there is an odd sort of comfort, even a bit of gratification, in knowing that no one else has managed to be as good as him at trying to kill Will – in that same thought, no one has been as good as Will at trying to kill him. for now, there's no reason to kill one another, nor a reason to conflict. he was defeated in his quest for the crown, and that's all there was to it. it was, in some ways, inelegant in desperation, but it was required of him to fulfill his own ambitions. ]
Certainly, the king must keep his battle prowess honed.
[ Will says something about Louis, but Louis' mind is somewhere else. ]
You mustn't lose your edge, 'less the fools believe they can sniff out your weakness. I doubt that you have, have you? Or you wouldn't be here, seeking out the one that once challenged you.
[ Louis traces Will's cheek with his thumb. there is a surprising tenderness inside of him when the situation seems to call for it, something of which those close enough to him are aware of. ]
[ Will laughs a little, wild and carefree, the way he is when he's charging headfirst into battle without even a second thought. He likes this, Louis's surprising tenderness, and the thumb brushing smoothly over his round cheek; he even likes the way that Louis doesn't quite respond directly to anything that he said, as if his mad, mad mind is elsewhere, which it surely is. (Isn't it a terrible thing, to find a madman so charming? Even if he isn't quite so mad anymore?) ]
I do believe in strength. I needed strength to defeat my enemies, and I needed strength to take the throne. [ A breath; he closes his eyes. ] I still need more strength to protect it. To protect this country, and its people.
[ There's no more need now for Louis Guiabern to be the menace that will destroy Euchronia. No more need now for them to struggle against each other, or try to kill each other. Will has proven his strength, a thousand times over, both in blade and spirit. And Louis lost — but that doesn't mean he needs to be consigned to the annals of Euchronia's history as a footnote and nothing more.
Louis's hand feels warm against Will's face. Proof, if nothing else, that he really is alive.
Still with his eyes closed, the young king continues, in a tempting whisper: ]
Lend me your strength, Louis. Give yourself to me.
[ how their positions have switched: not long ago, it was Louis draping him over his desk, asking him to join him. there was always a boldness in Will that came out during their quarrels, or their secret trysts, that Louis found rather beautiful. now it's Will who brought him back, most likely despite some of the protests of his peers, and Will who implores him, as if it's a more of a personal wish than a political drive.
join me, is what he's saying. join me. ]
What would you have of me? A general, who punishes the enemies of the throne who seek to destroy an eldan king? Would you have me as your court archmage, as I had once been, or a personal body guard to stand by your side?
[ Louis isn't sure, himself, where he fits in anymore. Will has a kingdom, he has friends who support him, and certainly has appointed them to their own paths as his royal circle. with his ambitions having failed, and the world moving in a new direction, he doesn't know where he fits in it.
he's had such a difficult time finding a place in the old world, that he sought to make a new one. Will wishes to give him a pace in this new one so badly, but it's difficult to fathom.
regardless, being here with Will is soothing in its own right. it makes certain things seem possible, at least. ]
[ Will reaches up. Finds Louis's hand still pressed against his cheek. Takes it into his own, turning around slowly, so that they are each facing each other against the railing, and he has Louis's hand in his hand.
Their faces are close. If Will wanted, if he lifted his face a little, he could steal a kiss from Louis, of the sort that they once shared about the Charadrius, when neither Will's friends or Louis's followers were looking.
He lifts Louis's hand to his lips. Kisses the back of his hand, as if in humble supplication, but Louis of all people would know best that Will has never been humble in a way that matters. ]
I could have you as my consort.
[ His voice is low and serious and soft. As to not provide added pressure, Will keeps his eyes lowered, staring at Louis's bare knuckles — but, inexorably and inevitably, those big blue eyes slowly turn towards Louis's face, assessing the reaction, in his usual analytical way. ]
Louis is not a man who is ever at a loss for words, but for a moment there is a silence between them, because he's uncertain of what to say. certainly, the king has thought about it – what it means for Euchronia, and what it would mean for the two of them. politically it makes sense, it would solidify his allegiance and quell Louis' fanatics, sell a narrative that they were united in a better world. it would also soften Louis' policies of violence, while still keeping one of tolerance, while Will benefited from Louis' knowledge of the court.
it is ingenious in that bold way where Will leads with his imagination. it's hard to argue.
after gaping for a few seconds, Louis rearranges his expression into something that's less inelegant, and he almost wants to laugh. not because the subject is funny, but he can't help but think that Will has already thought about this. ]
You truly mean this.
[ though it begs the question of what Louis would be doing otherwise. ]
Of course I mean it. It would be the perfect solution to many of our troubles. And the solution to a few future ones, too.
[ Obviously, there are the reasons that Louis has himself highlighted in his head: the union of the nation's two most popular candidates for king would nigh-obliterate all other options in the public opinion. There would be a scandal to it, too — how could the young king marry his father's self-admitted killer? — but one which Will has carefully weighed and found to be the sort of scandal that can only benefit him.
Besides, Will already has a general and a court mage. And woe betide anyone who dares to suggest that Junah be replaced by Louis.
...Secretly, Will is also tired of receiving and rejecting marriage proposals from the various little-known princesses of Montario and Oceana. Louis has the backing, the influence, the purportedly noble background. Few could possibly protest his selection as royal consort, except perhaps on the grounds that he is a man. But whatever, Will figures. The church can seethe. ]
Besides... the people love stability, but they crave entertainment, too. I think they could use the levity of a royal wedding to lighten their days.
[ His tone softens slightly, to something that is almost conspiratorial: ]
[ a little scandal and liveliness is always good for the kingdom, after all. that built-up anxiety needs an outlet, and entertainment certainly offers that. there isn't much more entertaining than a royal wedding.
there may be a point about Will's heir, but the late Hythlodaeus already proved that with a little of the right kind of magic, that a democratic system could be put into place to choose a new ruler. Will was free to decide whether or not he had children, and those children were free to decide whether or not they wanted to pick up the mantel as ruler.
as much as he despised Hythlodaeus, he can admit that he did offer some freedom to his son, and to the country that Louis killed him for. ]
You say that so freely.
[ Louis can dance around it as much as he likes, but there is an underlying understanding that this is also what Will wants. it works well politically, but it's hardly just that, he knows that Will would not do something he truly did not want to, and no one could force him into an unsavory decision against his own principles and desires. they had been fleetingly together when the doors were closed, as if the world could not see what they were doing, ignoring the intimacy when they were at each other's throats. (or so Louis thought, but it wasn't that simple, was it?) he could ask to be sure, but he doesn't need to: there's no doubt in his mind.
Will is also asking for his companionship: most likely in travel, at court, and in a shared bed, now open for the kingdom to mull over their secrets. it's not something made from hard power without thought to the future passed a certain point.
there's a look of quiet contemplation that passes Louis' face, but he does not withdraw his hand. instead he traces Will's bottom lip with his thumb, as if going over the finer details that he does not voice, perhaps the things burrowed somewhere in his heart. ]
Allow me to consider this as I become part of this world once again.
[ it seems, at least, to have grounded him in a way, given him something to think about and linger on his mind as he makes plans as to what he may do next. ]
[ Will lowers his eyes again, nodding solemnly. It says enough to him that Louis has not rejected the idea outright; it says enough that he can still linger over the shape of Will's mouth as though fascinated by its shape, its softness. Even after all this time, all that genuine desperation and hatred, Louis must still, himself, feel that electric pull that brought him into Will's orbit, and which is now keeping him there.
King Wilhelm, wedded to Louis Guiabern. Both handsome, both beautiful, with powers beyond mortal reckoning. If the people could look past the man's crimes — if they could understand why Will would bear him no ill will, even despite killing his father — it would truly be a union for the ages.
They would all think that he married for power. Will alone would know the truth. ]
I understand. Take your time and think it through.
[ There's no pressure in it. This isn't about demanding an answer from Louis, after all, so much as it is about making mutual intentions known, and giving him something to think about, something to live for.
It's a slow thing, clearly telegraphed, but Will looks up, that dastardly bottom lip of his almost quivering with unspoken emotion. He leans forward; his lips touch Louis's, soft and telling. ]
[ Things are not so idyllic once they start planning Will's next public appearance.
The king's companions were all rather shocked to hear him casually drop the assassination plot — and his subsequent plans for Louis's involvement — but it would seem such capriciousness is, perhaps, not unusual for their "Captain." Strohl certainly recovers in good time. Despite his misgivings towards Louis, he quickly begins to formulate a decent plan to tempt the would-be kingslayers into action: the prospect of the king giving a public speech in Grand Trad's royal plaza will be too much for them to resist, and give his Partisans a large open area in which to defend him. Hulkenberg wrestles with some obvious trauma regarding her teenage failure to protect the prince from assassination, one which is only tempered by an adult desire to make up for her past mistakes. Heismay seriously and openly questions Louis's involvement in a way that makes it plain he does not trust the man, but that's his right; Will seems to have expected that from him, and indeed, it's only rational.
The anointed day soon comes. Word of the king's address to the nation has spread throughout Grand Trad; surprisingly enough, there's a slight sense of indolent indifference towards the whole ordeal, one which perhaps illustrates how relatively uneventful the lives of the people have been under the new king's rule. "A speech from the king? But aren't things going fine?" "Has something happened to the nation?" "Do you suppose he'll do something about the price of eggs?" "Ugh, I won't bother going... if it were really important, they'd broadcast it with that spell they've got, eh? Or hang the king's face up in the sky again, like." "Yes, but what if Junah sings after the speech? She hasn't performed in so long!" "Oh, I want to go! I want to see that cute face of his again!" "The king's face? It's that strapping general of his I want to see, personally. Those broad shoulders..."
All such meaningless drivel.
As Will makes ready to give his speech — he has prepared one in full just in case the assassins allow him the complete amount of time to finish it, though he rather suspects they won't be so generous — Louis has been sent to briefly meet with the "liar," Alonzo, for some information which will help him decide how best to meet Will's threats head-on. Thus far, Louis has been kept entirely under wraps from the populace, of course: he may be widely recognizable as both a force of evil and a bulwark of unimaginable power, but even he can be cloaked, robed, and hidden like any other man.
Alonzo, for his part, doesn't seem bothered to be meeting a suspiciously robed man in the alleys of Sunlumeo Street in broad daylight. As it turns out, Will's "liar" is a remarkably handsome, well-proportioned Nidia man (or can Nidia truly be said to be well-proportioned?) who raises his brows as Louis comes closer. They'd arranged a watchword, in Hulkenberg's usual unnecessarily-precautioned way, but Alonzo hardly needs to hear it from Louis's lips when the man's inimitable face serves as passcode enough.
"Louis Guiabern, I take it? The legend himself," Alonzo murmurs gamely, sliding his fingers around the brim of his bowler hat before pulling it off entirely with a rakish flourish. Holding that same hat against his chest, he manages an elegant bow. "My name is Alonzo, or at least it is today. Never thought I'd cross paths with you myself, but dear, sweet Will has a knack for keeping things interesting, hm?"
"I'll keep things quick — been told you like your reports brief. They have a ground force coming from the southern plaza, two snipers posted at the northwest and southeast corners of the arena, and a squad of casters waiting atop the belltower — though, if all goes as planned, the snipers will be disabled by the king's own shield, and his former Shadowguard friend is set to deal with the casters." An unnecessary wink from those iridescent glassy eyes, and then Alonzo has donned his hat again. "Now, I'm sure it would be a simple thing for a man of your military prowess to crush them all where they stand right now, but His Majesty wants you to put on a show. As for how you do that... I'll leave that to your good judgment. No one gets far in politics without knowing how to take center stage." ]
[ there are ways in which the world has not changed – while the royal sceptre is no longer needed to keep the anxieties of the populace from materializing, the dull opinions and inane exchanges are still rampant – it's disappointing in some ways, comforting in others. there's a mindlessly there that Louis still finds grating, but Will sort of basks in; honestly, Louis doesn't think he'll ever see eye to eye with Will on that, but luckily he doesn't have to. today, he has one purpose, and it's to keep those weak-hearted fools in line.
Louis doesn't get to witness the full plot in motion, but he is there for the tail end of it when his presence is required, and he doesn't interject. it was, in some ways, fascinating to watch them all work, especially Strohl. the plan was formulated, and the group focused on him (all at once, anyone with less confidence would certainly fumble), and Strohl asked him firmly, but evenly if he would fulfill the plot to its ends, Louis replied cooly "if this plan fails, it will not be due to my role in it." it was not a lie, but not the full truth either, if the the plan fell through, he would salvage it and slay the assassins himself, but those were thoughts best left unvoiced. those were desperate measures, and he had told Will he wouldn't kill (well, that was also circumstantial). while he had spent some time with Will's companions, his personal loyalty was to Will, not to them.
that was that, and for now, he had something to look forward to.
there's always something thrilling about being wrapped up in a cloak and walking through the streets of Grand Trad. no one expects him, but that doesn't mean to say that someone won't outright recognize him. he was a very prominent political figure who adored a good scene, so there were plenty that got a good look at him. he was recognizable. still he dons his horns again like a crown, and a tailored, but quaint military garb with a full cape. and as playfully as Alonzo greets him, he's met with the intense, steady of Louis Guiabern, as if it's another part of his attire.
a nidia embracing his own stereotype, interesting. ]
Get in contact with those guards at ready, send word that these traitors should not be killed under any circumstances. While the king will hold his address at the plaza, I will hold rear. I want them brought to me. All of them. I will drag them through the crowd myself.
[ then, there's a cruel smile. ]
Make sure the Igniter Consortium Head is settled before I do.
[ he turns, as if he had just given orders that he expects to be fulfilled, but he pauses mid-step and glances back at Alonzo before drawing up his hood. ]
There are few sins in this world I will not tolerate, and one is treachery.
[ it sounds equal parts a threat as it does a promise.
Louis heads off to put himself in position, cloaking himself as a normal guard before he makes his grand appearance. there are others surrounding the plaza, and it's simple enough to blend in with the lot of them.
if Will wants a show, he will not disappoint him. ]
[ The man gives his demands, and then he's off in a flash, his cloak lifting at the edges with the momentum of his brisk steps. Alonzo, who in his life has been many things, but never the sort of soldier who takes orders from anyone save his late mother, watches Louis pass with wide, glassy eyes for a moment, and then barks out a slightly surprised laugh.
"Treachery, he says!" Alonzo exclaims under his breath. "Is that a threat for little old me? My, my..."
He tosses one lock of hair over his shoulder, then reflexively drapes it along the side of his face again. "I'll take it as a compliment," the nidia man muses; it's probably a good thing if someone in his "profession" still has the sort of face that makes others mistrust him by default. "Very well. Your will be done, 'Lord Louis.'"
Then he turns, and walks out of the alleyway, at a brisker pace than usual.
Naturally, the Sanctist Senate has been assembled. Given the rare occasion of King Wilhelm giving a public speech to the masses, the career politicians were not in a position to refuse the formality of the affair. The State Army General was deposed back when Louis's kingmaking campaign was at its zenith, so that leaves the Princes of Oceana and Montario, along with the Igniter Consortium Head. Gideaux now sits in the position that Rella and Forden once occupied, though it is widely known he is an unwilling representative of the Church, as he sees himself unworthy to lead the flock; Will himself refused all other bishops and pontiffs that were suggested in his stead, though. If there must be any representative of the Church, he figures, let it be the one who knows his faith's misdeeds.
Anyway, they're a strange individual, the Igniter Consortium Head — and not merely because of their bald head and androgynous face. It is rumored that they are an ishkia, and their facial structure would certainly attest to that, but they lack the wings that make ishkia ishkia. Whether this is the result of some igniter experiment or a birth defect has never been made clear to the public. What is known, however, is that they are a ruthless merchant, one that is very good at their job, and one that has risen to the top of the Merchants' Guild despite the discrimination and distrust that their unusual physical appearance has no doubt earned them. They have made their fortune and their political influence off the backs of lesser merchants and the broken bodies of paripus not lucky enough to survive their experiments.
Ambition in the face of adversity is well and good, Will thinks, but any deviation from one's perceived tribe is no excuse for having become a ruthless monster. The Igniter Consortium Head must fall.
Still, killing them outright would only give Will more problems than solutions.
The young king takes the stage in his regalia, minus the heavy crown; this has been his custom for some time, one that has earned him some degree of criticism (what sort of king is it that does not wear a crown?). Still, he doesn't see the need to eternally proclaim his sovereignty over the masses, and besides, he's posed with the crown for enough paintings. Also, it just looks kind of stupid on his head.
Knowing full well that the arrows of a dozen assassins must currently be aimed at his chest, knowing full well that armed insurgents are waiting to make their move, Will looks out at the crowd, his voice amplified by a trick of Junah's, and lifts his head: ]
My beloved people. It is my honor to address you on the anniversary of my ascension to the throne...
[ Will's speech marks the cadence in Louis' movements. it shouldn't be long now that the snipers will be raising their crossbows, and the casters their wands. Louis waits among the guard strategically placed around the plaza, both there to keep the peace and protect the king. the role is one that's easy to play, at least for now, a hood pulled over a half-helmeted head, dressed in the same uniform as the rest of the soldiers, he blends in flawlessly. no one gives him a second glance; no one asks any questions. instead they glide past him, chattering inanely about Will's address – well, they'll have something more interesting to talk about, soon.
Louis wants to make sure the Igniter Consortium Head is comfortable, as the more comfortable someone is in their power, the more rattled they are when it's challenged.
before they had parted, Louis told Will, "No matter what may target you, or what may happen, do not waver in the delivery of your speech." it was a promise of a show, and a testament of trust. it would send a message to the Igniter Consortium Head before Louis even began his own leg of the show.
the echo of Will's voice is behind him as the squad slinks through the southern plaza, trying to hide among the crowd and take a few key points to gain the upper hand. it's easy when attention is on the king, except to those who know that they're coming. he can hear the last part of Will's speech begin, and he makes his move. to pace it with his voice, Louis counts his steps until he's in front of the first rebel. before the man can act, he disarms him. swearing, the other man trying to center himself enough to strike.
then, Louis speaks. ]
Has it been so long that you've forgotten the mark of your own weakness?
[ it causes him to stop dead, the trickle of sweat creating a thin river from his brow and down his nose. he knows that voice – he knows it, and it doesn't take him long to place it.
"C-count ... Louis?"
it sinks in, then he yells in warning.
"It's Count Louis!"
then, the chaos begins. whatever mission that the ground force thought they could accomplish has been compromised. the reception from the crowd is one of bewilderment until the ground force begins to scramble. some try to hurry their way to the king, unsure if that was a call for retreat, others make for a hasty exit. for them, the capture is swift, as the guards are waiting. now with their positions revealed, Louis can pick off the rest, and he makes short work of them, collecting them like game to a hunter on the prowl. as the rest of the soldiers either calm the masses or drag the cowards away, Louis parades the rest through the crowd and to the podium.
most of them are sniveling all the way there.
"Count Louis please, I know this is what you would have wanted! I know, I know it is!" or "Don't do this, Count Louis, please!" another curses him, and Louis can at least respect that.
as he makes his way forward, he draws his hood back, shaking his hair from the helmet that he tucks beneath his elbow. ]
Quite the crowd you've drawn here today, your majesty. As it so happens, I've brought a few gifts. [ Louis makes an exaggerated gesture to those captured behind him. ] They're all but weak-willed cravens, but I bid that you accept my offering in good grace. I'm certain that whoever sent these traitors to disrupt your address cannot be here, themselves, most likely due to their own cowardice.
[ there are a few from the crowd that can be heard calling his name, the rest in stunned silence. ]
[ Will keeps his promise: he does not waver in his speech.
He does not waver even as Louis makes his first move and disarms an assassin in the crowd; he does not waver even as the citizenry's eyes are drawn to the flash of steel and a woman shrieks when she sees the first bright light of a magic flare. He does not waver even as the cries of "Count Louis!" ring out, both in terror and in worship, in fear and in adoration. Even now, Louis commands that kind of respect. "Count Louis!" "No! He's here?" "But he was dead! They all said he was dead!" "Count Louis is alive!" "Oh, God save us all!"
There goes the man who was almost King.
Will does not waver, and that means this, for anyone with the brains to put it together (and for those who don't, well, Will knows Batlin will clear things up for them; the man never quite stopped being Grand Trad's best and most popular crier, even after he took up a seat in parliament) — the King knew that this assassination attempt would happen, he knew that he would be protected, and more importantly, he knew that Louis would show up. ]
...By the grace of God, and all other gods, let us walk together, and build our kingdom anew. Thank you.
[ Calmly, he lifts one hand to signal the end of his speech, and smiles.
Then he turns his eyes towards Louis, and lets him speak.
(The and all other gods bit is not only an acknowledgment of the mustari, but a jab at the Sanctist church. It's also in some agreement somewhere that he's supposed to end his public speeches with Closurei, but as small an acknowledgment as that would have been, Will refused to segue territory to his enemies with it; he had Eupha strike the law off the books just this morning.)
It was, truthfully, a little funny to watch Louis simply lift, drag, and hurl grown men until they formed a pile of contrite prisoners for Strohl's guards to round up. Privately, Will is amused, given that he himself was once the victim of being thrown off a flight of stairs by Louis Guiabern. That much clearly hasn't changed. If anyone in the crowd doubts that this is the real Louis Guiabern, well, one might point out that a construct of the king's would never be as cruel as the real, the true, Count Louis. He is unmistakable in all his mannerisms, his taste for theatrics, his sadistic madness.
How droll.
Will smiles.
(Later on in life, perhaps, some will note that this smile was perhaps a tad too warm, considering what had just happened; later on in life, perhaps, some will realize that the king's smile was a little soft, a little lovestruck, a little too sweet, and a little too gentle.) ]
Hello, Louis. Thank you for the gifts, and for thwarting the attempt on my life just now.
[ Again, he is not the least bit surprised. His Partisans are working their positions, calming the crowd down now, but by now, the people have largely gone quiet, aside for inaudible murmurs, and all eyes are on the king and his known archnemesis.
And yet, for all that Will should be facing a man who nearly killed him, he seems perfectly, inexplicably calm. ]
I'm told that they did it in your name. But Louis Guiabern never abided such tactics, did he?
[ Pointedly, and with cold blue eyes, Will turns to look over his shoulder, directly at the Igniter Consortium Head's seat. Though he stops short of casting outright blame on the merchant, he does very loudly and clearly say: ]
Not with divine relics, and igniters, no... the Louis I know always favored direct confrontation and a clash of blades.
[ it feels good to be on the field again, even if it's for a brief moment of a crowd-pleasing show. part of politics is giving a good performance, and while peace is well and good, the masses need, and crave, entertainment. somewhere, drowned by the sound of Will's voice, he can hear his still-dedicated supporters crying his name. out of the corner of his eye, he can see the Igniter Consortium Head's face rearrange itself quickly from any semblance of surprise.
good, he thinks. now the real game begins.
he's aware of the senate's fear of him, especially after he had made a spectacle of Forden's murder. each and every one of them knew that if they took so much as a step out of place, Louis would find a reason to hunt them down – thus, his presence is as much as a threat now as it was then. the king's acceptance of a verbal allegiance will temper him for now, but he is still as unpredictable and fearless as he was prior to his resurrection. ]
There was once a world that I would have built upon strength, and such still holds to my philosophy: those that had make decrees of attempted regicide in my name are cowards. If I were to kill the king, I would do so myself, and not send mindless lackeys in my stead. All those with my name upon their lips and a sword in their hand without sharing my cause as thus denounced.
[ there's a moment that he looks smug, a curl of a smile on the lips of a snake. as Will suspects: it would be difficult to say that this was not the real Louis Guiabern, matched in performance and cruelty, boldly standing before the king and his guard to say that if there was intention to slay him, that he would do so himself.
though he means it in many ways, if there's going to be anyone that would kill Will, it would be his honor alone, even if he would not make a move to do it. that is his rival, his partner, his king, and anyone who raises a sword will feel his wrath. his words are a promise.
while the Igniter Consortium Head has now composed themselves, there are others on the senate that are not as talented at hiding their own shock. ]
Your majesty, I will protect you from all that take my name with means to slay you, no matter what the cause. While I'm no longer an archmage in service of the crown, you understand that I cannot have my own name sullied.
[ then he does something curious. he takes the last, sweeping steps toward the king and offers his hand. ]
I will see through this world you mean to create.
[ the two of them had clashed on a public stage over and over and over again – in so many cities across Euchronia. they had once fought above Grand Trad, with blades and teeth and bleeding hearts, and after Louis was utterly defeated, it now came to this.
something that should have happened so long ago. ]
They hadn't made any particular agreement about what Louis would do after helping Will thwart the assassination attempt. A public display of allegiance, an announcement of fealty — however independent, and however Louis may want to put it on his own terms — yes, this is all much more than Will thought he had earned.
But the crowds are cheering Louis's name even as many others cry out their shock and horror ("Louis! Louis! Louis!" "Wasn't he dead?!" "I won't accept this! I can't accept this!" "His supporters killed my brother!" "But I thought they hated each other..." "Louis! Louis! Louis!" "All hail His Majesty!" "Louis! Louis! Louis!") — and Will cannot falter now, not with the eyes of the nation upon them. Calmly, he reaches out for Louis's hand. Takes it, clasps it in his, as if swearing an oath of brotherhood; for a moment, he almost swears he hears his mother's voice. The crowd erupts in still louder cheering —
"Louis! Louis! Louis!"
(The Igniter Consortium Head, Will notes with faint satisfaction, has gone utterly stone-faced, hiding their mouth and nose behind a hand twisted in frustration. Their compatriots are not so put-together; the Prince of Montario's eyes have gone so wide as to bulge out of their sockets, and his small, withered hands are trembling atop his cane. The Prince of Oceana's face is twisted in a snarl. Plainly, none of them like the fact that their most dangerous enemy has returned. The boy-king with a pure heart, they thought they could tolerate and outsmart over time — but the monster that haunts their nightmares is risen, and plainly, he cannot be distracted now with dreams of the throne.)
Will says nothing. But —
Instead of letting go of Louis's hand once the cheering has run its course, he does a curious thing. He lifts Louis's hand to his lips. He does not stoop his back or bow his head, as that would be unseemly of a king (and the royal regalia goes some way in correcting his usual bad posture) — but he lifts Louis's hand to his lips, and kisses his knuckles in what must surely be a gesture of friendship.
This gesture does not displease the masses. There is a final loud cheer, and then Will lets their hands drop; he lifts his hand in farewell to the people, who have by now received the show they were hoping to see.
The speech is over. Once again, the king has triumphed over his unseen enemies, and unveiled the return of a man who is both his father's murderer and the most beloved member of his father's cabinet. The taverns will have gossip for days.
(Only one young woman, a longtime fan of Will's, has the wherewithal to ask: "But... the kiss to his hand... that isn't common practice, is it? Not from the king..."
Alas, as is the way of things, no one listens to this young woman save other young women.) ]
[ the king is not the only one surprised, his entirety of his guard is surprised.
of course, Louis wouldn't be satisfied with just annihilating the assassination attempt – after all, Will had told him to put on a show. he put on that show; one that would have all of Grand Trad bustling with rumors, and the council wiping the sweat from their brow. ]
They will think twice before making another move, but they will make another. It's just a matter of time.
[ Louis tells Will as the all head back to the palace. Strohl agrees, and presses that they should be ready to think of their next move. Louis doesn't disagree, and finds that he's – somehow – pulled into this little group, no matter how many barbs Hulkenberg glares at him.
(she will pull her king aside later to warn him, as how easily he seems to get along with them does not seem right to her. of course, it does not seem right to Louis, either. it is a foreign thing for both of them. she'll also ask, delicately, if there's something between the two of them. to her credit, she doesn't pry – the privacy of her king is not something that is hers to invade, after all.)
a week goes by without incident. actually, falling into old habits seems easy. Louis takes to the library, picking through the crown's selection with keen interest. for now, he is watched closely by the crown guards as well as forbidden to use magic. Eupha gives him a relic that disperses the magla around him, making even a talented magician like him unable to use it. Louis hates it, but begrudgingly accepts.
most of his time is spent with either Will, or Fidelio and Basilio. as much as the blood had been boiling, they fall back into easy times. Basilio makes a passing comment to Will how he feels as if he has his old Louis back – the one from just when Will met them, when they were brighter eyed and more hopeful of the world Louis had to offer. there's a few times that Will can even overhear some Louis' laughter as the three of them begin to train together again.
Strohl and Heismay are the other two that begin to bridge the gap. at first Strohl doesn't want to admit it, but Louis does give decent advice, and when he disregards some of the man's cruelty, it's sound enough for him to use.
there are dinners and drinking, and one jaunt on the gauntlet runner. Louis begins to notice it too – it's a bit like he was there all along. when he's in the midst of it – when he doesn't think about it – he's fine. when his thoughts interrupt the book he's reading to tell him how he doesn't belong, he finds that he cannot chase them away. they were all too accepting of him, too ready to welcome him despite the human monstrosity that he had become. some days he feels much like a prisoner, stripped of magic and left in a cage of rather lovely bars.
so, he leaves. he's neither to clever about it, nor careful in hiding his foodsteps if someone knew where to look. when Will resurrected him he had left the Eldan Sanctum without a thought, but he realizes he should have lingered. when he had left, he had never looked back, not even visited that place he called home that was burned to ash.
it's two weeks later that two of Will's personal guards interrupt his breakfast with Gallica.
"Your Majesty, my apologies for the interruption. It's Coun –" she stops herself. "Lord Louis, my king. He's gone. There are no traces of how he left, he's simply gone."
"What do you mean he just vanished?" Gallica asks.
"We searched the entire perimeter. We thought he may have gone into the city, but there have been no reports of his movements within these walls."
"We need to go find him before he does something he'll regret." ]
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[ Will shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest in imitation of Louis's own pose; unconsciously, he's a little cold in the night air, and he looks a lot more like he's holding himself to keep himself warm than the way Louis looks, calm and unbothered by the tone of their discussion. Still, the king continues: ]
Most people in your army took up working for Fidelio and Basilio after you disappeared, but there was a more... fervent contingent of your former supporters who have fallen into Sanctist hands and basically become radicals. They never accepted your loss at my hands, they hate me the way their God tells them to hate elda, and they will never accept me as their king. [ A slightly wry smile. He does think the bit about God is a little funny. ] The Consortium Head has supplied them with a supply of igniters that are equivalent to divine relics in power, and given them orders to execute me during my next public appearance.
[ At great expense to their business, no doubt. Will shrugs, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. ]
I found out about the plot because one friend of mine is very good at lying, and another friend is part of the consortium itself. The "liar" has already infiltrated their operation, and the "merchant" is trying to disrupt their igniter distribution route, but things like that are easier said than done.
[ Alonzo and Brigitta, of course. He'd had to stop Brigitta from going wild and razing some of the caravans outright; influential as she already is, she's not that powerful, and it would have been equivalent to her starting an all-out war against her boss. ]
Well... even if they're armed with a bunch of divine relics, I don't really think your former captains can stand against me in a fight. And I could do a lot of things, like, sure, sic Hulkenberg on them, or send Heismay to kill their leaders in the dead of the night. But they could still cause a lot of collateral damage as they're going down, and I don't want to put my "liar" in more danger than he's already in. So I've been thinking.
[ He turns his head slightly, hands wrapped around his thin elbows as he looks sidelong at Louis. ]
These men have no loyalty to the Consortium Head themselves. And they don't have much to fight for if Louis Guiabern returns and tells them to stand down. [ A slight pause. ] That is... if you want to be known by that name again.
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[ these sorts of sneaky operations, the ones that require some level of political strategy to solve. Louis had seen it here and there, but now it's laid bare now that they're no longer pitting their wits against one another.
Louis continues without an answer to the question. ]
The weak willed make fools of themselves once again. Between the magla and the relics, all that's required for the possibility of a human emergence is the right mixture of their own petty grievances. Perhaps you are correct, the collateral damage could be devastating if this is allowed to fester.
[ if it were Louis, he would allow it to happen. perhaps he'd go so far as to add the right amount of whatever was needed to create that travesty to prove his own point. this is not up to him, though, and beyond satisfaction, there would be not much of a point to prove. (but oh, the satisfaction.)
in a single motion that could be considered gallant, he shrugs the blanket from his shoulders and drops it over Will's; it's still warm. ]
I'll need to don the guise of a clemar once again. Their former lord announcing himself and demanding they drop their arms without horns will cause the certain backfire you wish to avoid. You and I must take care now, the two of us could be seen as the true threat that we are, if we were so politically motivated.
Guiabern will do for now, it is still useful. The name has power behind it.
[ he tilts his head back, the bright line of his pale skin almost glowing against the skyline. there is something devilish about him when he's like this. ]
Contracting me means that you concede to my judgement. I may kill them if I see fit.
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Normally, I'd say you shouldn't, but... I think the fact that they've fallen in with the anti-elda Sanctists is proof that they never really understood your ideology at all. And we gave them a lot of other choices. [ They could have joined the Tradian Brigade; they were paying well, with decent lodgings and accommodations. They had a lot of other options besides the ones that led them to this. ] As far as I'm concerned, they're dangerous radicals. You can do what you want with them... within reason.
[ Wouldn't want to repeat the magic experiments, after all, and Will doesn't want anyone turning into humans, given the situation. Regardless, it's as much tacit consent as Louis is going to get out of an idealist like him. The king wraps the blanket around his shoulders calmly, accepting it, and the warmth from Louis's body, in turn. ]
I do want this to be a world where you don't have to pretend to be a clemar, one day. But... yeah. I was thinking as much. People will denounce it as some dirty elda trick of mine if you come back as anything less than what they knew you as.
[ With a small, furtive movement, Will repositions himself slightly, such that he's standing in front of Louis, against the guardrails of the runner. He wouldn't have done it before with everyone watching, even though these are his friends and most trusted advisors, people he has already trusted to guard his life. But, in the moment — elda to elda — there are still some things that Will never told his friends about Louis Charadrius, and —
He leans backward, pressing his small back and his silvery head against Louis's chest. He sighs. ]
...The horns are cute on you, anyway. Even if they're not real.
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The hatred sowed by the church runs deep, and the elda have not been proactive in refuting the church's hellish rumors upon them. You and I bear the brunt of those decisions made over the last thousand years, and the differences between the tribes are easily exploited for power.
[ along with Hythlodaeus' and Forden's, but Louis always found them indicative of a deeper, more systemic problem. while the elda were not deserving of what happened to them, far, far from it, but locking themselves away along with the hidden history of the world did nothing but cause a greater downfall. there's some satisfaction in knowing the sanctum is returning to the ruins as it should, as if walking away from the past. Louis' resurrection means that Will, at least, was thinking more pragmatically about the future than his father ever did.
before he knows it, Will has already wiggled between him and the rail, and is offering a soft contact that he'd forgotten about in his madness. soft hair, and a soft expression from the young king as they gaze across the ruins of their former home.
Louis sighs, a momentary break in the thoughts of politics and consequences, as Wil leans into him. he did miss him, didn't he? its still rather unfathomable to him, though he supposes it's one of the reasons he so desperately wanted Will to join him.
Louis Charadrius doesn't sound bad, does it? ]
No one had ever asked of my birthright, only assumed. The differences, perhaps, so miniscule that a little glamour and no one cared to notice.
[ dark lashes fall over his eyes, half-lidded and softer. the warmth in his voice that had been gone so long seems to creep back into the edges. he confirms for Will, because he may as well hear it. while Louis may trap, ensnare, and use omission to fuel his own plots, he does not outright lie. ]
I will not turn these spineless fools to humans, if that's what you're asking of me. They don't deserve as much.
[ they will be reminded of the scum that they are, before either dying in the old world, or becoming part of the new one. ]
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[ Louis neither accepts nor declines the contact from Will's small body, so the young king lingers, enjoying — as much as he can, given the circumstances, and the genuine bitterness that once characterized their relationship — their shared touch. Maybe it's only his own naïve conceit, but he wants to think that he can ground Louis like this. Keep him tethered here, to a fragile world that still has hope in it, instead of drifting off to the promise of a different world where love and fantasy would go to die. ]
Things have already changed a little, you know. Most of the Elda moved out of the Sanctum already. They still tend to travel in groups and keep to themselves, but...
[ Will pauses slightly. He's not actually used to being this chatty; he hasn't quite said this much all at once since his coronation. ]
It was something I wanted to encourage, myself. I don't think I can say that I'm an elda in the way that the people who were raised here are elda, but... I also didn't think it was right. To sequester themselves in the one place they were forced into hiding... that didn't seem, to me, the right way to live.
[ Thoughtfully, he gazes out at the eldan village, the place that he'd stayed for years as the "prince," and yet no longer quite remembers very clearly, on account of how many of those years were spent alone and away from others in a pain-induced haze from the curse. ]
And I remembered. That you'd wanted to leave. I think... I would have related to that. The desire to leave.
[ To a young Louis Charadrius, the promises that the soft-hearted scholar named More brought to the village must have seemed like heavensent miracles — and then, when the man failed to deliver on them, the hope he'd felt would have become intolerable. ]
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why – why did the elda lock themselves away? why did they allow the world to shroud itself in lies as they alone sat upon the truth? when More left, the church came with their warrior monks in the name of a cruel and bloody god, then burned everything to ash. the man that had spoke soft words about high ideals was no where, and suddenly it all felt like bile in Louis' mouth.
even after the fire and the loss, running away and hiding himself with glamour, Louis still kept that book. ]
The forest felt like a prison, and I clung to too tightly to the bars.
[ he'd never talked about this before – no, nor had he ever wanted to go back to this place, mentally or physically. it was a representation of everything he hated in this world, as well as everything he lost. it was easier to hate than lose. ]
Perhaps your world will be kinder to them, but they will have hardships nonetheless. Seclusion only feeds the lies, and those beyond the city will still feast, even when their king himself is elda. Yet there is the hard way and the easy way, and the hard way tends to foster strength.
[ Louis tilts his head, allowing Will to stay as close as he likes. that he's not turning him away seems to be his own form of affection and acceptance of the company. ]
The two of us are as elda as any other – raised in this damned place or not – those outside of it see no difference.
[ his voice gets a little quieter. ]
There will be more that come for you.
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[ The answer comes near-instantly, without even a moment's hesitation. Maybe Will is only so fearless because he's never had to feel so weak, helpless in the face of a wall of flame; maybe he's fearless because he's looked into the flames and come away without burns. And yet, there's something beautiful about him all the same because of it. An elda, so unlike all other elda, in the way that they have allowed themselves to hide away their secrets and their histories and existence, in shame and hopelessness and fear.
Even Louis had succumbed, ultimately, to hopelessness and fear.
But Will doesn't treat him as though he did. He'd have every right to: Louis killed his father, Strohl's family (however indirectly), countless others, would have disposed of Fidelio and Basilio just as ruthlessly. Tried to kill him, many times, several times, even through different bodies, and different souls. And yet, at the end of all that's happened — what do they have to fight over, now? What reason does Will have, truly, to hate Louis, when their battle is over, and Will's ideals won the day?
Will leans back, rubs his head just slightly against Louis's chest. Like a cat, marking its territory with hidden scent. ]
I have even less to fear with you by my side.
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Louis presses his fingers against Will's chin, tipping back his head until it's pressed against his chest, and he can look down at him. ]
Will we battle them all?
[ the world does not change quickly, and he's certain that despite Will's approval from the citizens of Euchronia, that the fanatics would certainly find means to take arms against an elda on the throne. the world may have been quelled, but there was still fear and anxiety within it. ]
Though I suppose none could live up to me.
[ it's less a matter of arrogance, and more one of fact. who else becomes so deluded in wanting to kill, that they become a human in the process? ]
That's some what of a comfort.
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[ There's a slightly lilting, teasing edge to Will's voice as he asks this: Are you worried about me, Louis? his tone implies. Not that he's displeased. But it is very funny to think that, after several mutual attempts to kill each other, Louis now confesses that it is a comfort that there is no one left to threaten the two of them united, at least not in a way that matters. Should Will take it as a confession that he cares?
He won't prod, because he knows well enough to know that Louis is a man who values his pride. But it's a good first step, Will thinks. If nothing else, perhaps it shows that Louis has let go of that mad ruthlessness which once characterized him as a candidate.
He looks up at Louis, pleasantly upside-down and still very pretty for it, blinking his big, watery blue eyes. His hair shines with starlight beneath the night sky, silvery-blue, like moonstone in the right lighting. ]
We'll battle them if they're foolish enough to attack.
[ He leans his cheek ever so slightly into the blond elda's hand, but he also seems content to hold himself where Louis has placed him. ]
A part of me hopes they do. A lot of people will find it very inspirational to see Louis Guiabern routing his enemies once again.
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Certainly, the king must keep his battle prowess honed.
[ Will says something about Louis, but Louis' mind is somewhere else. ]
You mustn't lose your edge, 'less the fools believe they can sniff out your weakness. I doubt that you have, have you? Or you wouldn't be here, seeking out the one that once challenged you.
[ Louis traces Will's cheek with his thumb. there is a surprising tenderness inside of him when the situation seems to call for it, something of which those close enough to him are aware of. ]
There's a part of you that believes in strength.
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I do believe in strength. I needed strength to defeat my enemies, and I needed strength to take the throne. [ A breath; he closes his eyes. ] I still need more strength to protect it. To protect this country, and its people.
[ There's no more need now for Louis Guiabern to be the menace that will destroy Euchronia. No more need now for them to struggle against each other, or try to kill each other. Will has proven his strength, a thousand times over, both in blade and spirit. And Louis lost — but that doesn't mean he needs to be consigned to the annals of Euchronia's history as a footnote and nothing more.
Louis's hand feels warm against Will's face. Proof, if nothing else, that he really is alive.
Still with his eyes closed, the young king continues, in a tempting whisper: ]
Lend me your strength, Louis. Give yourself to me.
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join me, is what he's saying. join me. ]
What would you have of me? A general, who punishes the enemies of the throne who seek to destroy an eldan king? Would you have me as your court archmage, as I had once been, or a personal body guard to stand by your side?
[ Louis isn't sure, himself, where he fits in anymore. Will has a kingdom, he has friends who support him, and certainly has appointed them to their own paths as his royal circle. with his ambitions having failed, and the world moving in a new direction, he doesn't know where he fits in it.
he's had such a difficult time finding a place in the old world, that he sought to make a new one. Will wishes to give him a pace in this new one so badly, but it's difficult to fathom.
regardless, being here with Will is soothing in its own right. it makes certain things seem possible, at least. ]
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Their faces are close. If Will wanted, if he lifted his face a little, he could steal a kiss from Louis, of the sort that they once shared about the Charadrius, when neither Will's friends or Louis's followers were looking.
He lifts Louis's hand to his lips. Kisses the back of his hand, as if in humble supplication, but Louis of all people would know best that Will has never been humble in a way that matters. ]
I could have you as my consort.
[ His voice is low and serious and soft. As to not provide added pressure, Will keeps his eyes lowered, staring at Louis's bare knuckles — but, inexorably and inevitably, those big blue eyes slowly turn towards Louis's face, assessing the reaction, in his usual analytical way. ]
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Louis is not a man who is ever at a loss for words, but for a moment there is a silence between them, because he's uncertain of what to say. certainly, the king has thought about it – what it means for Euchronia, and what it would mean for the two of them. politically it makes sense, it would solidify his allegiance and quell Louis' fanatics, sell a narrative that they were united in a better world. it would also soften Louis' policies of violence, while still keeping one of tolerance, while Will benefited from Louis' knowledge of the court.
it is ingenious in that bold way where Will leads with his imagination. it's hard to argue.
after gaping for a few seconds, Louis rearranges his expression into something that's less inelegant, and he almost wants to laugh. not because the subject is funny, but he can't help but think that Will has already thought about this. ]
You truly mean this.
[ though it begs the question of what Louis would be doing otherwise. ]
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[ Obviously, there are the reasons that Louis has himself highlighted in his head: the union of the nation's two most popular candidates for king would nigh-obliterate all other options in the public opinion. There would be a scandal to it, too — how could the young king marry his father's self-admitted killer? — but one which Will has carefully weighed and found to be the sort of scandal that can only benefit him.
Besides, Will already has a general and a court mage. And woe betide anyone who dares to suggest that Junah be replaced by Louis.
...Secretly, Will is also tired of receiving and rejecting marriage proposals from the various little-known princesses of Montario and Oceana. Louis has the backing, the influence, the purportedly noble background. Few could possibly protest his selection as royal consort, except perhaps on the grounds that he is a man. But whatever, Will figures. The church can seethe. ]
Besides... the people love stability, but they crave entertainment, too. I think they could use the levity of a royal wedding to lighten their days.
[ His tone softens slightly, to something that is almost conspiratorial: ]
You'll be beautiful.
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there may be a point about Will's heir, but the late Hythlodaeus already proved that with a little of the right kind of magic, that a democratic system could be put into place to choose a new ruler. Will was free to decide whether or not he had children, and those children were free to decide whether or not they wanted to pick up the mantel as ruler.
as much as he despised Hythlodaeus, he can admit that he did offer some freedom to his son, and to the country that Louis killed him for. ]
You say that so freely.
[ Louis can dance around it as much as he likes, but there is an underlying understanding that this is also what Will wants. it works well politically, but it's hardly just that, he knows that Will would not do something he truly did not want to, and no one could force him into an unsavory decision against his own principles and desires. they had been fleetingly together when the doors were closed, as if the world could not see what they were doing, ignoring the intimacy when they were at each other's throats. (or so Louis thought, but it wasn't that simple, was it?) he could ask to be sure, but he doesn't need to: there's no doubt in his mind.
Will is also asking for his companionship: most likely in travel, at court, and in a shared bed, now open for the kingdom to mull over their secrets. it's not something made from hard power without thought to the future passed a certain point.
there's a look of quiet contemplation that passes Louis' face, but he does not withdraw his hand. instead he traces Will's bottom lip with his thumb, as if going over the finer details that he does not voice, perhaps the things burrowed somewhere in his heart. ]
Allow me to consider this as I become part of this world once again.
[ it seems, at least, to have grounded him in a way, given him something to think about and linger on his mind as he makes plans as to what he may do next. ]
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King Wilhelm, wedded to Louis Guiabern. Both handsome, both beautiful, with powers beyond mortal reckoning. If the people could look past the man's crimes — if they could understand why Will would bear him no ill will, even despite killing his father — it would truly be a union for the ages.
They would all think that he married for power. Will alone would know the truth. ]
I understand. Take your time and think it through.
[ There's no pressure in it. This isn't about demanding an answer from Louis, after all, so much as it is about making mutual intentions known, and giving him something to think about, something to live for.
It's a slow thing, clearly telegraphed, but Will looks up, that dastardly bottom lip of his almost quivering with unspoken emotion. He leans forward; his lips touch Louis's, soft and telling. ]
...Let's just enjoy the breeze for now.
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The king's companions were all rather shocked to hear him casually drop the assassination plot — and his subsequent plans for Louis's involvement — but it would seem such capriciousness is, perhaps, not unusual for their "Captain." Strohl certainly recovers in good time. Despite his misgivings towards Louis, he quickly begins to formulate a decent plan to tempt the would-be kingslayers into action: the prospect of the king giving a public speech in Grand Trad's royal plaza will be too much for them to resist, and give his Partisans a large open area in which to defend him. Hulkenberg wrestles with some obvious trauma regarding her teenage failure to protect the prince from assassination, one which is only tempered by an adult desire to make up for her past mistakes. Heismay seriously and openly questions Louis's involvement in a way that makes it plain he does not trust the man, but that's his right; Will seems to have expected that from him, and indeed, it's only rational.
The anointed day soon comes. Word of the king's address to the nation has spread throughout Grand Trad; surprisingly enough, there's a slight sense of indolent indifference towards the whole ordeal, one which perhaps illustrates how relatively uneventful the lives of the people have been under the new king's rule. "A speech from the king? But aren't things going fine?" "Has something happened to the nation?" "Do you suppose he'll do something about the price of eggs?" "Ugh, I won't bother going... if it were really important, they'd broadcast it with that spell they've got, eh? Or hang the king's face up in the sky again, like." "Yes, but what if Junah sings after the speech? She hasn't performed in so long!" "Oh, I want to go! I want to see that cute face of his again!" "The king's face? It's that strapping general of his I want to see, personally. Those broad shoulders..."
All such meaningless drivel.
As Will makes ready to give his speech — he has prepared one in full just in case the assassins allow him the complete amount of time to finish it, though he rather suspects they won't be so generous — Louis has been sent to briefly meet with the "liar," Alonzo, for some information which will help him decide how best to meet Will's threats head-on. Thus far, Louis has been kept entirely under wraps from the populace, of course: he may be widely recognizable as both a force of evil and a bulwark of unimaginable power, but even he can be cloaked, robed, and hidden like any other man.
Alonzo, for his part, doesn't seem bothered to be meeting a suspiciously robed man in the alleys of Sunlumeo Street in broad daylight. As it turns out, Will's "liar" is a remarkably handsome, well-proportioned Nidia man (or can Nidia truly be said to be well-proportioned?) who raises his brows as Louis comes closer. They'd arranged a watchword, in Hulkenberg's usual unnecessarily-precautioned way, but Alonzo hardly needs to hear it from Louis's lips when the man's inimitable face serves as passcode enough.
"Louis Guiabern, I take it? The legend himself," Alonzo murmurs gamely, sliding his fingers around the brim of his bowler hat before pulling it off entirely with a rakish flourish. Holding that same hat against his chest, he manages an elegant bow. "My name is Alonzo, or at least it is today. Never thought I'd cross paths with you myself, but dear, sweet Will has a knack for keeping things interesting, hm?"
"I'll keep things quick — been told you like your reports brief. They have a ground force coming from the southern plaza, two snipers posted at the northwest and southeast corners of the arena, and a squad of casters waiting atop the belltower — though, if all goes as planned, the snipers will be disabled by the king's own shield, and his former Shadowguard friend is set to deal with the casters." An unnecessary wink from those iridescent glassy eyes, and then Alonzo has donned his hat again. "Now, I'm sure it would be a simple thing for a man of your military prowess to crush them all where they stand right now, but His Majesty wants you to put on a show. As for how you do that... I'll leave that to your good judgment. No one gets far in politics without knowing how to take center stage." ]
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Louis doesn't get to witness the full plot in motion, but he is there for the tail end of it when his presence is required, and he doesn't interject. it was, in some ways, fascinating to watch them all work, especially Strohl. the plan was formulated, and the group focused on him (all at once, anyone with less confidence would certainly fumble), and Strohl asked him firmly, but evenly if he would fulfill the plot to its ends, Louis replied cooly "if this plan fails, it will not be due to my role in it." it was not a lie, but not the full truth either, if the the plan fell through, he would salvage it and slay the assassins himself, but those were thoughts best left unvoiced. those were desperate measures, and he had told Will he wouldn't kill (well, that was also circumstantial). while he had spent some time with Will's companions, his personal loyalty was to Will, not to them.
that was that, and for now, he had something to look forward to.
there's always something thrilling about being wrapped up in a cloak and walking through the streets of Grand Trad. no one expects him, but that doesn't mean to say that someone won't outright recognize him. he was a very prominent political figure who adored a good scene, so there were plenty that got a good look at him. he was recognizable. still he dons his horns again like a crown, and a tailored, but quaint military garb with a full cape. and as playfully as Alonzo greets him, he's met with the intense, steady of Louis Guiabern, as if it's another part of his attire.
a nidia embracing his own stereotype, interesting. ]
Get in contact with those guards at ready, send word that these traitors should not be killed under any circumstances. While the king will hold his address at the plaza, I will hold rear. I want them brought to me. All of them. I will drag them through the crowd myself.
[ then, there's a cruel smile. ]
Make sure the Igniter Consortium Head is settled before I do.
[ he turns, as if he had just given orders that he expects to be fulfilled, but he pauses mid-step and glances back at Alonzo before drawing up his hood. ]
There are few sins in this world I will not tolerate, and one is treachery.
[ it sounds equal parts a threat as it does a promise.
Louis heads off to put himself in position, cloaking himself as a normal guard before he makes his grand appearance. there are others surrounding the plaza, and it's simple enough to blend in with the lot of them.
if Will wants a show, he will not disappoint him. ]
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"Treachery, he says!" Alonzo exclaims under his breath. "Is that a threat for little old me? My, my..."
He tosses one lock of hair over his shoulder, then reflexively drapes it along the side of his face again. "I'll take it as a compliment," the nidia man muses; it's probably a good thing if someone in his "profession" still has the sort of face that makes others mistrust him by default. "Very well. Your will be done, 'Lord Louis.'"
Then he turns, and walks out of the alleyway, at a brisker pace than usual.
Naturally, the Sanctist Senate has been assembled. Given the rare occasion of King Wilhelm giving a public speech to the masses, the career politicians were not in a position to refuse the formality of the affair. The State Army General was deposed back when Louis's kingmaking campaign was at its zenith, so that leaves the Princes of Oceana and Montario, along with the Igniter Consortium Head. Gideaux now sits in the position that Rella and Forden once occupied, though it is widely known he is an unwilling representative of the Church, as he sees himself unworthy to lead the flock; Will himself refused all other bishops and pontiffs that were suggested in his stead, though. If there must be any representative of the Church, he figures, let it be the one who knows his faith's misdeeds.
Anyway, they're a strange individual, the Igniter Consortium Head — and not merely because of their bald head and androgynous face. It is rumored that they are an ishkia, and their facial structure would certainly attest to that, but they lack the wings that make ishkia ishkia. Whether this is the result of some igniter experiment or a birth defect has never been made clear to the public. What is known, however, is that they are a ruthless merchant, one that is very good at their job, and one that has risen to the top of the Merchants' Guild despite the discrimination and distrust that their unusual physical appearance has no doubt earned them. They have made their fortune and their political influence off the backs of lesser merchants and the broken bodies of paripus not lucky enough to survive their experiments.
Ambition in the face of adversity is well and good, Will thinks, but any deviation from one's perceived tribe is no excuse for having become a ruthless monster. The Igniter Consortium Head must fall.
Still, killing them outright would only give Will more problems than solutions.
The young king takes the stage in his regalia, minus the heavy crown; this has been his custom for some time, one that has earned him some degree of criticism (what sort of king is it that does not wear a crown?). Still, he doesn't see the need to eternally proclaim his sovereignty over the masses, and besides, he's posed with the crown for enough paintings. Also, it just looks kind of stupid on his head.
Knowing full well that the arrows of a dozen assassins must currently be aimed at his chest, knowing full well that armed insurgents are waiting to make their move, Will looks out at the crowd, his voice amplified by a trick of Junah's, and lifts his head: ]
My beloved people. It is my honor to address you on the anniversary of my ascension to the throne...
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Louis wants to make sure the Igniter Consortium Head is comfortable, as the more comfortable someone is in their power, the more rattled they are when it's challenged.
before they had parted, Louis told Will, "No matter what may target you, or what may happen, do not waver in the delivery of your speech." it was a promise of a show, and a testament of trust. it would send a message to the Igniter Consortium Head before Louis even began his own leg of the show.
the echo of Will's voice is behind him as the squad slinks through the southern plaza, trying to hide among the crowd and take a few key points to gain the upper hand. it's easy when attention is on the king, except to those who know that they're coming. he can hear the last part of Will's speech begin, and he makes his move. to pace it with his voice, Louis counts his steps until he's in front of the first rebel. before the man can act, he disarms him. swearing, the other man trying to center himself enough to strike.
then, Louis speaks. ]
Has it been so long that you've forgotten the mark of your own weakness?
[ it causes him to stop dead, the trickle of sweat creating a thin river from his brow and down his nose. he knows that voice – he knows it, and it doesn't take him long to place it.
"C-count ... Louis?"
it sinks in, then he yells in warning.
"It's Count Louis!"
then, the chaos begins. whatever mission that the ground force thought they could accomplish has been compromised. the reception from the crowd is one of bewilderment until the ground force begins to scramble. some try to hurry their way to the king, unsure if that was a call for retreat, others make for a hasty exit. for them, the capture is swift, as the guards are waiting. now with their positions revealed, Louis can pick off the rest, and he makes short work of them, collecting them like game to a hunter on the prowl. as the rest of the soldiers either calm the masses or drag the cowards away, Louis parades the rest through the crowd and to the podium.
most of them are sniveling all the way there.
"Count Louis please, I know this is what you would have wanted! I know, I know it is!" or "Don't do this, Count Louis, please!" another curses him, and Louis can at least respect that.
as he makes his way forward, he draws his hood back, shaking his hair from the helmet that he tucks beneath his elbow. ]
Quite the crowd you've drawn here today, your majesty. As it so happens, I've brought a few gifts. [ Louis makes an exaggerated gesture to those captured behind him. ] They're all but weak-willed cravens, but I bid that you accept my offering in good grace. I'm certain that whoever sent these traitors to disrupt your address cannot be here, themselves, most likely due to their own cowardice.
[ there are a few from the crowd that can be heard calling his name, the rest in stunned silence. ]
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He does not waver even as Louis makes his first move and disarms an assassin in the crowd; he does not waver even as the citizenry's eyes are drawn to the flash of steel and a woman shrieks when she sees the first bright light of a magic flare. He does not waver even as the cries of "Count Louis!" ring out, both in terror and in worship, in fear and in adoration. Even now, Louis commands that kind of respect. "Count Louis!" "No! He's here?" "But he was dead! They all said he was dead!" "Count Louis is alive!" "Oh, God save us all!"
There goes the man who was almost King.
Will does not waver, and that means this, for anyone with the brains to put it together (and for those who don't, well, Will knows Batlin will clear things up for them; the man never quite stopped being Grand Trad's best and most popular crier, even after he took up a seat in parliament) — the King knew that this assassination attempt would happen, he knew that he would be protected, and more importantly, he knew that Louis would show up. ]
...By the grace of God, and all other gods, let us walk together, and build our kingdom anew. Thank you.
[ Calmly, he lifts one hand to signal the end of his speech, and smiles.
Then he turns his eyes towards Louis, and lets him speak.
(The and all other gods bit is not only an acknowledgment of the mustari, but a jab at the Sanctist church. It's also in some agreement somewhere that he's supposed to end his public speeches with Closurei, but as small an acknowledgment as that would have been, Will refused to segue territory to his enemies with it; he had Eupha strike the law off the books just this morning.)
It was, truthfully, a little funny to watch Louis simply lift, drag, and hurl grown men until they formed a pile of contrite prisoners for Strohl's guards to round up. Privately, Will is amused, given that he himself was once the victim of being thrown off a flight of stairs by Louis Guiabern. That much clearly hasn't changed. If anyone in the crowd doubts that this is the real Louis Guiabern, well, one might point out that a construct of the king's would never be as cruel as the real, the true, Count Louis. He is unmistakable in all his mannerisms, his taste for theatrics, his sadistic madness.
How droll.
Will smiles.
(Later on in life, perhaps, some will note that this smile was perhaps a tad too warm, considering what had just happened; later on in life, perhaps, some will realize that the king's smile was a little soft, a little lovestruck, a little too sweet, and a little too gentle.) ]
Hello, Louis. Thank you for the gifts, and for thwarting the attempt on my life just now.
[ Again, he is not the least bit surprised. His Partisans are working their positions, calming the crowd down now, but by now, the people have largely gone quiet, aside for inaudible murmurs, and all eyes are on the king and his known archnemesis.
And yet, for all that Will should be facing a man who nearly killed him, he seems perfectly, inexplicably calm. ]
I'm told that they did it in your name. But Louis Guiabern never abided such tactics, did he?
[ Pointedly, and with cold blue eyes, Will turns to look over his shoulder, directly at the Igniter Consortium Head's seat. Though he stops short of casting outright blame on the merchant, he does very loudly and clearly say: ]
Not with divine relics, and igniters, no... the Louis I know always favored direct confrontation and a clash of blades.
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good, he thinks. now the real game begins.
he's aware of the senate's fear of him, especially after he had made a spectacle of Forden's murder. each and every one of them knew that if they took so much as a step out of place, Louis would find a reason to hunt them down – thus, his presence is as much as a threat now as it was then. the king's acceptance of a verbal allegiance will temper him for now, but he is still as unpredictable and fearless as he was prior to his resurrection. ]
There was once a world that I would have built upon strength, and such still holds to my philosophy: those that had make decrees of attempted regicide in my name are cowards. If I were to kill the king, I would do so myself, and not send mindless lackeys in my stead. All those with my name upon their lips and a sword in their hand without sharing my cause as thus denounced.
[ there's a moment that he looks smug, a curl of a smile on the lips of a snake. as Will suspects: it would be difficult to say that this was not the real Louis Guiabern, matched in performance and cruelty, boldly standing before the king and his guard to say that if there was intention to slay him, that he would do so himself.
though he means it in many ways, if there's going to be anyone that would kill Will, it would be his honor alone, even if he would not make a move to do it. that is his rival, his partner, his king, and anyone who raises a sword will feel his wrath. his words are a promise.
while the Igniter Consortium Head has now composed themselves, there are others on the senate that are not as talented at hiding their own shock. ]
Your majesty, I will protect you from all that take my name with means to slay you, no matter what the cause. While I'm no longer an archmage in service of the crown, you understand that I cannot have my own name sullied.
[ then he does something curious. he takes the last, sweeping steps toward the king and offers his hand. ]
I will see through this world you mean to create.
[ the two of them had clashed on a public stage over and over and over again – in so many cities across Euchronia. they had once fought above Grand Trad, with blades and teeth and bleeding hearts, and after Louis was utterly defeated, it now came to this.
something that should have happened so long ago. ]
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They hadn't made any particular agreement about what Louis would do after helping Will thwart the assassination attempt. A public display of allegiance, an announcement of fealty — however independent, and however Louis may want to put it on his own terms — yes, this is all much more than Will thought he had earned.
But the crowds are cheering Louis's name even as many others cry out their shock and horror ("Louis! Louis! Louis!" "Wasn't he dead?!" "I won't accept this! I can't accept this!" "His supporters killed my brother!" "But I thought they hated each other..." "Louis! Louis! Louis!" "All hail His Majesty!" "Louis! Louis! Louis!") — and Will cannot falter now, not with the eyes of the nation upon them. Calmly, he reaches out for Louis's hand. Takes it, clasps it in his, as if swearing an oath of brotherhood; for a moment, he almost swears he hears his mother's voice. The crowd erupts in still louder cheering —
"Louis! Louis! Louis!"
(The Igniter Consortium Head, Will notes with faint satisfaction, has gone utterly stone-faced, hiding their mouth and nose behind a hand twisted in frustration. Their compatriots are not so put-together; the Prince of Montario's eyes have gone so wide as to bulge out of their sockets, and his small, withered hands are trembling atop his cane. The Prince of Oceana's face is twisted in a snarl. Plainly, none of them like the fact that their most dangerous enemy has returned. The boy-king with a pure heart, they thought they could tolerate and outsmart over time — but the monster that haunts their nightmares is risen, and plainly, he cannot be distracted now with dreams of the throne.)
Will says nothing. But —
Instead of letting go of Louis's hand once the cheering has run its course, he does a curious thing. He lifts Louis's hand to his lips. He does not stoop his back or bow his head, as that would be unseemly of a king (and the royal regalia goes some way in correcting his usual bad posture) — but he lifts Louis's hand to his lips, and kisses his knuckles in what must surely be a gesture of friendship.
This gesture does not displease the masses. There is a final loud cheer, and then Will lets their hands drop; he lifts his hand in farewell to the people, who have by now received the show they were hoping to see.
The speech is over. Once again, the king has triumphed over his unseen enemies, and unveiled the return of a man who is both his father's murderer and the most beloved member of his father's cabinet. The taverns will have gossip for days.
(Only one young woman, a longtime fan of Will's, has the wherewithal to ask: "But... the kiss to his hand... that isn't common practice, is it? Not from the king..."
Alas, as is the way of things, no one listens to this young woman save other young women.) ]
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of course, Louis wouldn't be satisfied with just annihilating the assassination attempt – after all, Will had told him to put on a show. he put on that show; one that would have all of Grand Trad bustling with rumors, and the council wiping the sweat from their brow. ]
They will think twice before making another move, but they will make another. It's just a matter of time.
[ Louis tells Will as the all head back to the palace. Strohl agrees, and presses that they should be ready to think of their next move. Louis doesn't disagree, and finds that he's – somehow – pulled into this little group, no matter how many barbs Hulkenberg glares at him.
(she will pull her king aside later to warn him, as how easily he seems to get along with them does not seem right to her. of course, it does not seem right to Louis, either. it is a foreign thing for both of them. she'll also ask, delicately, if there's something between the two of them. to her credit, she doesn't pry – the privacy of her king is not something that is hers to invade, after all.)
a week goes by without incident. actually, falling into old habits seems easy. Louis takes to the library, picking through the crown's selection with keen interest. for now, he is watched closely by the crown guards as well as forbidden to use magic. Eupha gives him a relic that disperses the magla around him, making even a talented magician like him unable to use it. Louis hates it, but begrudgingly accepts.
most of his time is spent with either Will, or Fidelio and Basilio. as much as the blood had been boiling, they fall back into easy times. Basilio makes a passing comment to Will how he feels as if he has his old Louis back – the one from just when Will met them, when they were brighter eyed and more hopeful of the world Louis had to offer. there's a few times that Will can even overhear some Louis' laughter as the three of them begin to train together again.
Strohl and Heismay are the other two that begin to bridge the gap. at first Strohl doesn't want to admit it, but Louis does give decent advice, and when he disregards some of the man's cruelty, it's sound enough for him to use.
there are dinners and drinking, and one jaunt on the gauntlet runner. Louis begins to notice it too – it's a bit like he was there all along. when he's in the midst of it – when he doesn't think about it – he's fine. when his thoughts interrupt the book he's reading to tell him how he doesn't belong, he finds that he cannot chase them away. they were all too accepting of him, too ready to welcome him despite the human monstrosity that he had become. some days he feels much like a prisoner, stripped of magic and left in a cage of rather lovely bars.
so, he leaves. he's neither to clever about it, nor careful in hiding his foodsteps if someone knew where to look. when Will resurrected him he had left the Eldan Sanctum without a thought, but he realizes he should have lingered. when he had left, he had never looked back, not even visited that place he called home that was burned to ash.
it's two weeks later that two of Will's personal guards interrupt his breakfast with Gallica.
"Your Majesty, my apologies for the interruption. It's Coun –" she stops herself. "Lord Louis, my king. He's gone. There are no traces of how he left, he's simply gone."
"What do you mean he just vanished?" Gallica asks.
"We searched the entire perimeter. We thought he may have gone into the city, but there have been no reports of his movements within these walls."
"We need to go find him before he does something he'll regret." ]
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