[ 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." ]
[ Those three weeks that passed without much incident seemed like a miracle to Will, at first. He'd managed to tame his own irrepressible desire to go around Grand Trad speaking directly with the people, if only for Louis's sake; he'd had the distinct feeling that someone still needed to watch over the man, and while he loves his friends as dearly as he would love a family, his Six Partisans aren't quite up to the task of connecting with Louis.
Strohl is the best at it, in some ways — at least, among those friends that aren't Fidelio and Basilio — but even Strohl sometimes lapses into moments of repressed fury, staring at Louis with narrowed eyes and lips biting back a retort about how terrible he is, how cruel, how uncaring of the lives of others he may be. And, as much as Eupha had expressed concern that Louis's own overreliance on magla was what drove him to madness to begin with — and Will had fully agreed with that point — he's also certain that the thin golden bracelets around Louis's wrists that restrict his flow of magla must seem to him like handcuffs.
Louis is learning, Will figures. Learning to live, in ways that he was not living before. But the circumstances in which he was brought back to Grand Trad must make his association with Will's friends seem like a curse. It's true that he is as much a political player as he is a pawn and prisoner.
Maybe it's only normal for him to feel like he has to run away.
So — while everyone rises up in shock and consternation, and Gallica starts speculating loudly about where the man could have gone — Will calmly sets his fork down and says, "I see. I understand. Don't mobilize any forces. I'll handle this."
Gallica protests loudly, with the big swinging gestures that she leans on as a fairy to make her small self seem larger in times of crisis, but Will won't be persuaded. He tells her to stay in the castle, act as "fairy queen" on his behalf with the other Partisans for now. He calls upon Neuras, gets the man to ready the runner, a trip just for the two of them.
Even now, even with it repressed by Eupha's Eht Rian relic, Louis's magla is easy for him to track.
("Are you and he — courting?" Hulkenberg had demanded, in a tone so scandalized and stilted that Will had found it hard not to laugh. "No — that is to say — I have always accepted as your knight that you as king would someday take a lover or queen or consort. You are as entitled to love as any other man should be. But — it would explain some, some things, if you have lain with him, known him... things which I have always suspected..."
Will gave in to temptation, laughed a little behind one hand. "Don't worry so much about that kind of thing, Hulkenberg," he'd said. "You deserve better than this." )
Louis's magla signature takes him to the one place — the one place in the world left for the two of them, despite the fact that neither spent very long there at all and it has long been in the custody of people who were ready to let it all go. Will dismounts from the runner outside, tells Neuras to wait for him. Strides in through the woods where he remembers playing as a boy, in both forms he'd taken. Walks in, where the sunlight still streams dimly and in dappled pools through the forest crown to the beautiful white flowers below —
Louis is in the meadow outside of the Eldan Sanctum, clad all in white as always, looking for all the world like a lost little boy.
Will doesn't have to look into his eyes to know what they must look like, in the moment: stormy, conflicted, almost more blue than green. He strides in through the flowers, letting his fingers gently caress their petals as he passes by. ]
...I thought I might find you here.
[ His voice is very soft and gentle, in the sort of tone normally reserved for coaxing small animals from their hiding places. ]
[ once upon a time, back when Louis had not taken the name Guiabern, he had been Louis Charadrius. his mother and father were medics, and they knew the ways of physical and mental illnesses, using both magic to medicine to tend to their community. they were both soft, caring people, and from what Louis could remember of them, they cherished him dearly. back then he weas a thin, gangly creature with a mop of blond hair and eyes that got wide at the tales beyond his dreamy little village. the elda had hidden themselves there for generations, hording in their forest with their fairies and their own culture secret from that of the rest of Euchronia.
then a man came to Louis' village, with horns like a crown, and stories of everything that was beyond. Louis had followed him around so incessantly, asking so many questions that the village started to take note, and gossip about the boy who became the man's shadow.
"There goes that Charadrius child again, right on his heels." "Do you think that someone should stop him? It could be dangerous ..." "Let him be, it's rare for anyone to visit, these days, he must be excited." "Have you seen his parents? Perhaps I should fetch them."
those were the days of the eldan queen and all those under her protection. peaceful, quiet, dull days of hidden histories and forgotten magic. even then Louis had been adept to it, learning from his parents, learning from the stranger that came to them, and reading book after book after book. one day, before his departure, the horned stranger handed him a book with a gilded cover, adorn with a golden heart.
"I hope the two of us can share the same world one day."
they did, but the circumstances that befell both of them were not kind. when watched his parents, friends and people he had known all his life as shadows dancing in the flames, he made a promise to himself: never again. that day he had hidden the book beneath his tunic, as if it were something more precious than his life, and the pages alone could protect him from the world's cruelties. when he was taken that day to the capital, he had not looked back. to steel himself against the world's demands, he would not give it the satisfaction of his tears.
from then on, he had not look back, swallowed his pain until it became nothing but a black heart in his chest, and the decay broke him from inside outward. the promise that he had made himself became an exception, and he reasoned that the whole world could bask in flames until he remade it. when he was condemned for the prince's curse and Hythlodaeus did not speak for him, he knew the dream was dead. there was no world they both could share – no, he would have to make a new world.
this was not a place that Louis wanted to be, but he found himself here, anyway. he is restless, he has been since Will had resurrected him. perhaps he wanted to be found – wanted to be followed.
he doesn't turn to greet him. ]
I lived here. [ his voice sounds casual, but distant, as if he found a memory of his that lived in the motes beneath the streams of sunlight. ] There were stone walls, and the door would open from dawn 'til dusk. The villagers here would implore the aid of my parents for their various maladies, from poison plants to deep, clutching magla that had corrupted their hearts. I learned quite a bit from them.
[ because as much as he left it all behind, as much as he did not think about it, as much as he ran from it and reasoned with it and pushed it away, it was still there, following him like a ghost. it was in the flowers in his room, the copy of the book he still kept like a precious bird, and the name of his skyrunner: Charadrius. ]
...
Yes, it is beautiful.
[ maybe these ruins would eventually be swallowed by the earth, eroded by time, lost to history, the flowers with their petals open to the heaven like a memorial. ]
Do you remember it as it had been before the flames?
[ Louis is charming, easy to talk to, but he could be difficult when he wanted to be. to what extent he hadn't known, due to his own status; some learned habits of his own making left the other side of the conversations absolutely speechless. he learned from court how to hide his weaknesses, shock his opponents, and show nothing but strength. it became more than just his opponents, soon it just became everyone.
[ For a moment, Will hesitates. Some frail corner of his heart wants to give Louis the answer that he seeks, but he's not sure if there is one, and he knows he can't lie. Still, the answer he has to give must be so terribly disappointing: ]
I... don't. [ He hesitates. ] I don't, I think. I'm not sure.
[ How could he remember? He was barely more than an infant, a child of less than six years old. But there's a guilt to that, too; maybe he could have remembered if he cared enough. If he had learned to care the way that Louis did. But still, all in all — he was too young. ]
...I remember some things. Flashes of green... flashes of red. [ Will closes his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. ] My mother... She had long hair, and she wore a red headband. And then I remember being here after I was cursed, confined to the bed in the back rooms of the sanctum. But I also remember things that I convinced myself were true. I know that Grius gave me lessons in swordplay, when I was the Prince. But I also remember the people of the Resistance teaching me to handle a knife... and that part... I know that part isn't true.
[ He slows in the trail of steps he's taking, coming to a stop by Louis's side. ]
I messed myself up a lot that way. But I think... I just didn't want to admit to myself that my mother died to save me. Because I... I didn't want to be the reason she wasn't around anymore.
[ He wavers for a moment, as if debating whether or not to reach out to Louis and touch him — but, in the end, Will only takes a seat by his side, resting his arms atop his knees as he stares out at the sea of white flowers, impossibly tranquil in the still forest air. ]
You know, since I became king, I've only let myself do one selfish thing. Everything else, I've done for the betterment of the people — but there was one thing...
[ It has the tone of a confession. A secret that only Louis will know. ]
When the elda came to me and said that they wanted to leave this place — that they didn't want to live in tunnels anymore, hiding from the Sanctist church — I gave them a parcel of land not far from here. Charged Gruidae and Russell with guiding the new settlement. It's a better place to live, by all measures. The soil there is more fertile, and there's a river with good clean water. It's closer to the trade routes, so caravans can stop by. With luck... they'll never have to be isolated again.
[ A king's kindly act of charity and foresight, by all measures. But Will continues: ]
...The real reason I did that... was because I didn't want them to build over this place.
[ He lowers his gaze to the flowers again, in some ways still the land of his birth, in others not at all. Where "he" ends and "Will" begins is still a murky pool of unanswered questions, even to himself, even though he accepted himself. Sometimes, he can admit to himself that he has always been the prince, a friendless young man who dreamed of far more than dying at the hands of assassins over the misfortune of his birth. Other days, when he is confused, he still thinks of himself as a simple boy raised to be a spy, without dreams or love, only the certainty for dying for a mission and the one friend he'd ever had. ]
Selfish, isn't it? It doesn't belong to me... and I can't keep it forever. [ A soft, bitter laugh. ] But still. I didn't...
I didn't want you to come back to a village where the flowers weren't blooming.
[ there is the scent of moss in the air, humidity that is trapped within the low hanging branches, making it all smell like rain. Louis remembers the ash and embers, bloody screams, and choking on smoke that caught in his throat. he remembered thinking he was going to die.
though he does remember other things, too. ]
The village was quite boisterous when you were born.
[ where Will wanted to give him something, Louis could offer something back. ]
This place, hidden so distantly from all else, felt like a relic in itself. It was rare that an event roused it from slumber. The fairies wove flower crowns, and there were songs, though I could not say I could recall them now. The halls in the sanctum were decorated in lively colors, and there was quite the feast. Most was not worth celebrating here, but there was something that day. There were people here that you cannot remember, but you did give them joy, however fleeting it was.
[ though for the first time in a long time, he can be comforted that he does have memories, even if they seem so thin that they're hard to recall. it's hard to fathom a connection for Will, when his own are so fractured. ]
It's as much yours as it is mine, and for all the world has done to us – to you – selfishness seems appropriate. Perhaps I should show gratitude toward it.
[ it's certainly ironic for him to say that now, he means it. there are many feelings he harbored toward the elda: anger at their inaction, pain at their loss, but he had never wanted to see this place gone. the ruins would fade, eventually, but they were here for now. ]
[ Will admits to his secrets; Louis gives him some more of his own. Touches on memories he has surely not thought of for years and years and years. They must be happy memories, but there's more to it, too; they must be painful ones. Will knows the treasure he's being given, here; he wants to treat it gently, and with grace.
...
Will looks up and smiles at Louis, warm and genuine and guileless and free. Sweet, like the smile of the baby he once was — the child of the queen, a baby that everyone would have celebrated, and thrown a feast for, and sang songs for, even if that baby would never remember the melodies in adulthood. Because celebration is the point of celebration, and it's okay, sometimes, if these things aren't remembered. As long as everyone was happy — for a moment that now only lingers in Louis Charadrius's memories.
Maybe the Sanctum can be theirs, for as long as they live. In the future, when they are both gone, it will belong to someone else, and they can write their stories then. But for now — for now... ]
...Can you tell me more about your parents?
[ He wants to know. Wants to let himself imagine happier endings, for a little while; he wants to think about the kind of person Louis could have been, if the Sanctists never came with their torches and the igniters to light them. ]
[ perhaps the tragedy lies in them both being so loved, so wanted, and then it being so violently ripped away. there are many children with awful, terrible parents, but they had ones that loved them; wonderful, devoted, dead parents. ones that Louis Charadrius has not thought about in a very long time, in fact, he had forgotten quite a bit about them. it feels strange to recall them now, in the way that he had tarnished their legacy and used the talents he was taught to create monsters.
(still, he does not regret it.)
for a moment he's quiet, as if he's trying to collect enough pieces to string together words that may describe them. Will's smile brings some ease, and coaxes more out of him. ]
They were healers. Whatever destructive qualities magla had, they could undo it – no, that would be an insult – rather, they could work it like no other. In that they were unmatched. My mother told me that all in the Charadrius family had always been healers, like a legacy passed down through the ages.
[ most of what he remembers doesn't seem terribly interesting, but Will seems to want to know. ]
She had hair the color of mine, and my father liked to bake bread. They would both always wake before dawn to open the clinic, and would not close until the last person departed. Sometimes it was far past midnight, but despite such late nights, they would get up and do it over again.
[ he considers this, quietly, then continues in the same even tone: ]
Their knowledge burned away with the rest of the village.
[ It feels so quiet, out here in the forest, with no one else around for miles (save Neuras on the runner, who is probably fixing a boiler or some other such activity he thrives on). Just the two of them in their meadow of flowers, which the rest of Euchronia knows to be a symbol of the royal family and which they alone will know as a symbol of idyllic and more innocent days. Sharing their secrets. It feels nice, to be sharing their secrets.
The flowers around them emit only a faintly sweet, floral scent; beyond that, there is only the scent of moss and ancient wood. The air is lightly humid, in the way that wet, misty woods tend to be, but the grass beneath their feet is so plush that the ground will not even stain Louis's pristine white pants.
After a pause, Will reaches out, and gently lays his hand over Louis's where it rests in the meadow. ]
...If the world were kinder, would you have been a healer, too?
[ Gently, he laces their fingers together, his small palm pressed against Louis's larger knuckles. He wants Louis to know that he isn't alone, even as they navigate their more painful memories together. ]
[ half-lidded, his eyes watch as Will touches him, finds the crevices between his fingers and offers quiet contact. at first, Louis doesn't respond, just gazes at the connection between their fingers, and then draws away. it's not long, though, because he's rearranging himself, the hand that was once between them draws over Will's shoulders and urges him in.
Louis knows he is not good at this, but he also knows that Will has been treating him like a wild animal, because he is like one. he's unpredictable, violent, and doesn't do well in chains. there's not much that Louis can show vulnerability to allow Will in, but he can do this.
there's a quiet chuckle that vibrates in his chest. ]
No, I don't think there's a world where I would have been a healer. I wanted to leave so fervently, there's not much that could have kept me from it.
[ he's always felt as if he's betrayed his parents in some way. if the world were kinder, he may have made a good healer – to be quite honest, he still may make a good healer, despite his own personal hangups. he had inevitably reversed their own process for healing types of magla-related illnesses.
it still stands that if he can create humans, it's very possible that Louis may be able to unmake them, as well.
[ For a moment, Will's heart lurches with the sting of perceived rejection; he thought that Louis was pulling away from him, and even he isn't above feeling a twinge of fear. But then, instead, Louis pulls him in, nestles him firmly under the weight of his arm, and Will feels an irrational fondness bubble up from the pit of his stomach towards his throat, where it threatens to burst out of him in affectionate nothings. Happiness feels like a field of flowers at the center of his chest, threatening to bloom.
Oh, it's such a laugh. He's so very, very stupid, to be so enamored with Louis Charadrius.
Maybe he can blame his foolish elda heart.
Madman or murderer or martyr though the man may be, Will nevertheless lets Louis hold him close. He shifts his head slightly, bringing his nose closer to the curve of Louis's chest, where he wonders if that black heart still beats, twisted by anxiety and hatred and the disappointment over the years of realizing that no one would ever help him build a better world.
He's quiet for a little while before he asks: ]
...Is that why you left the castle without saying anything?
[ The closes his eyes, chasing the aftershocks of the rumble in Louis's chest. ]
If you wanted to see the world... I'd see it with you.
[ A faint smile. If you want to run away, I'll run with you. ]
I just... I still want to do right by this country and its people.
[ that was somewhat more complicated, but Will was bound to bring it up eventually. it's not as if Louis didn't know what he was doing, marching through the castle doors, out into Grand Trad and taking off through the countryside. it may be more apt to say that peace distresses him, makes him restless, because all he's known is strife. it's as if he's always waiting for something to go wrong – for something to happen, and if it does not, he will be the catalyst for it.
part of him ran because he could, as his own freedom is important to him. another part ran because he wanted to be followed. ]
No, it's not the prospect of world travels that seduced me away. Before such events brought us to where we are now, I had quelled rebellions of both Oceana and Montario. There was purpose within the military, a path that I could climb and exploit, as my will was strong enough. I awoke that day and felt suffocated within the walls of the palace, trapped and rudderless. I left because I could, and in that small rebellion found a sense of ease. I'm not a man made for peace.
[ that was not Will's fault, even if he brought Louis back, the weight of his existence did not fall on him. partially, he's unsure what to do with all his unrest and pain, which he now has no outlet and can do nothing but confront when there's nothing ideological for him to fight against. ]
It is not upon you to give me purpose, I must find it for myself.
[ it is his way of not conceding his values, in one small grasp for his pride. ]
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no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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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Strohl is the best at it, in some ways — at least, among those friends that aren't Fidelio and Basilio — but even Strohl sometimes lapses into moments of repressed fury, staring at Louis with narrowed eyes and lips biting back a retort about how terrible he is, how cruel, how uncaring of the lives of others he may be. And, as much as Eupha had expressed concern that Louis's own overreliance on magla was what drove him to madness to begin with — and Will had fully agreed with that point — he's also certain that the thin golden bracelets around Louis's wrists that restrict his flow of magla must seem to him like handcuffs.
Louis is learning, Will figures. Learning to live, in ways that he was not living before. But the circumstances in which he was brought back to Grand Trad must make his association with Will's friends seem like a curse. It's true that he is as much a political player as he is a pawn and prisoner.
Maybe it's only normal for him to feel like he has to run away.
So — while everyone rises up in shock and consternation, and Gallica starts speculating loudly about where the man could have gone — Will calmly sets his fork down and says, "I see. I understand. Don't mobilize any forces. I'll handle this."
Gallica protests loudly, with the big swinging gestures that she leans on as a fairy to make her small self seem larger in times of crisis, but Will won't be persuaded. He tells her to stay in the castle, act as "fairy queen" on his behalf with the other Partisans for now. He calls upon Neuras, gets the man to ready the runner, a trip just for the two of them.
Even now, even with it repressed by Eupha's Eht Rian relic, Louis's magla is easy for him to track.
("Are you and he — courting?" Hulkenberg had demanded, in a tone so scandalized and stilted that Will had found it hard not to laugh. "No — that is to say — I have always accepted as your knight that you as king would someday take a lover or queen or consort. You are as entitled to love as any other man should be. But — it would explain some, some things, if you have lain with him, known him... things which I have always suspected..."
Will gave in to temptation, laughed a little behind one hand. "Don't worry so much about that kind of thing, Hulkenberg," he'd said. "You deserve better than this." )
Louis's magla signature takes him to the one place — the one place in the world left for the two of them, despite the fact that neither spent very long there at all and it has long been in the custody of people who were ready to let it all go. Will dismounts from the runner outside, tells Neuras to wait for him. Strides in through the woods where he remembers playing as a boy, in both forms he'd taken. Walks in, where the sunlight still streams dimly and in dappled pools through the forest crown to the beautiful white flowers below —
Louis is in the meadow outside of the Eldan Sanctum, clad all in white as always, looking for all the world like a lost little boy.
Will doesn't have to look into his eyes to know what they must look like, in the moment: stormy, conflicted, almost more blue than green. He strides in through the flowers, letting his fingers gently caress their petals as he passes by. ]
...I thought I might find you here.
[ His voice is very soft and gentle, in the sort of tone normally reserved for coaxing small animals from their hiding places. ]
It's pretty, isn't it?
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then a man came to Louis' village, with horns like a crown, and stories of everything that was beyond. Louis had followed him around so incessantly, asking so many questions that the village started to take note, and gossip about the boy who became the man's shadow.
"There goes that Charadrius child again, right on his heels." "Do you think that someone should stop him? It could be dangerous ..." "Let him be, it's rare for anyone to visit, these days, he must be excited." "Have you seen his parents? Perhaps I should fetch them."
those were the days of the eldan queen and all those under her protection. peaceful, quiet, dull days of hidden histories and forgotten magic. even then Louis had been adept to it, learning from his parents, learning from the stranger that came to them, and reading book after book after book. one day, before his departure, the horned stranger handed him a book with a gilded cover, adorn with a golden heart.
"I hope the two of us can share the same world one day."
they did, but the circumstances that befell both of them were not kind. when watched his parents, friends and people he had known all his life as shadows dancing in the flames, he made a promise to himself: never again. that day he had hidden the book beneath his tunic, as if it were something more precious than his life, and the pages alone could protect him from the world's cruelties. when he was taken that day to the capital, he had not looked back. to steel himself against the world's demands, he would not give it the satisfaction of his tears.
from then on, he had not look back, swallowed his pain until it became nothing but a black heart in his chest, and the decay broke him from inside outward. the promise that he had made himself became an exception, and he reasoned that the whole world could bask in flames until he remade it. when he was condemned for the prince's curse and Hythlodaeus did not speak for him, he knew the dream was dead. there was no world they both could share – no, he would have to make a new world.
this was not a place that Louis wanted to be, but he found himself here, anyway. he is restless, he has been since Will had resurrected him. perhaps he wanted to be found – wanted to be followed.
he doesn't turn to greet him. ]
I lived here. [ his voice sounds casual, but distant, as if he found a memory of his that lived in the motes beneath the streams of sunlight. ] There were stone walls, and the door would open from dawn 'til dusk. The villagers here would implore the aid of my parents for their various maladies, from poison plants to deep, clutching magla that had corrupted their hearts. I learned quite a bit from them.
[ because as much as he left it all behind, as much as he did not think about it, as much as he ran from it and reasoned with it and pushed it away, it was still there, following him like a ghost. it was in the flowers in his room, the copy of the book he still kept like a precious bird, and the name of his skyrunner: Charadrius. ]
...
Yes, it is beautiful.
[ maybe these ruins would eventually be swallowed by the earth, eroded by time, lost to history, the flowers with their petals open to the heaven like a memorial. ]
Do you remember it as it had been before the flames?
[ Louis is charming, easy to talk to, but he could be difficult when he wanted to be. to what extent he hadn't known, due to his own status; some learned habits of his own making left the other side of the conversations absolutely speechless. he learned from court how to hide his weaknesses, shock his opponents, and show nothing but strength. it became more than just his opponents, soon it just became everyone.
but it was not Will now. ]
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I... don't. [ He hesitates. ] I don't, I think. I'm not sure.
[ How could he remember? He was barely more than an infant, a child of less than six years old. But there's a guilt to that, too; maybe he could have remembered if he cared enough. If he had learned to care the way that Louis did. But still, all in all — he was too young. ]
...I remember some things. Flashes of green... flashes of red. [ Will closes his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. ] My mother... She had long hair, and she wore a red headband. And then I remember being here after I was cursed, confined to the bed in the back rooms of the sanctum. But I also remember things that I convinced myself were true. I know that Grius gave me lessons in swordplay, when I was the Prince. But I also remember the people of the Resistance teaching me to handle a knife... and that part... I know that part isn't true.
[ He slows in the trail of steps he's taking, coming to a stop by Louis's side. ]
I messed myself up a lot that way. But I think... I just didn't want to admit to myself that my mother died to save me. Because I... I didn't want to be the reason she wasn't around anymore.
[ He wavers for a moment, as if debating whether or not to reach out to Louis and touch him — but, in the end, Will only takes a seat by his side, resting his arms atop his knees as he stares out at the sea of white flowers, impossibly tranquil in the still forest air. ]
You know, since I became king, I've only let myself do one selfish thing. Everything else, I've done for the betterment of the people — but there was one thing...
[ It has the tone of a confession. A secret that only Louis will know. ]
When the elda came to me and said that they wanted to leave this place — that they didn't want to live in tunnels anymore, hiding from the Sanctist church — I gave them a parcel of land not far from here. Charged Gruidae and Russell with guiding the new settlement. It's a better place to live, by all measures. The soil there is more fertile, and there's a river with good clean water. It's closer to the trade routes, so caravans can stop by. With luck... they'll never have to be isolated again.
[ A king's kindly act of charity and foresight, by all measures. But Will continues: ]
...The real reason I did that... was because I didn't want them to build over this place.
[ He lowers his gaze to the flowers again, in some ways still the land of his birth, in others not at all. Where "he" ends and "Will" begins is still a murky pool of unanswered questions, even to himself, even though he accepted himself. Sometimes, he can admit to himself that he has always been the prince, a friendless young man who dreamed of far more than dying at the hands of assassins over the misfortune of his birth. Other days, when he is confused, he still thinks of himself as a simple boy raised to be a spy, without dreams or love, only the certainty for dying for a mission and the one friend he'd ever had. ]
Selfish, isn't it? It doesn't belong to me... and I can't keep it forever. [ A soft, bitter laugh. ] But still. I didn't...
I didn't want you to come back to a village where the flowers weren't blooming.
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though he does remember other things, too. ]
The village was quite boisterous when you were born.
[ where Will wanted to give him something, Louis could offer something back. ]
This place, hidden so distantly from all else, felt like a relic in itself. It was rare that an event roused it from slumber. The fairies wove flower crowns, and there were songs, though I could not say I could recall them now. The halls in the sanctum were decorated in lively colors, and there was quite the feast. Most was not worth celebrating here, but there was something that day. There were people here that you cannot remember, but you did give them joy, however fleeting it was.
[ though for the first time in a long time, he can be comforted that he does have memories, even if they seem so thin that they're hard to recall. it's hard to fathom a connection for Will, when his own are so fractured. ]
It's as much yours as it is mine, and for all the world has done to us – to you – selfishness seems appropriate. Perhaps I should show gratitude toward it.
[ it's certainly ironic for him to say that now, he means it. there are many feelings he harbored toward the elda: anger at their inaction, pain at their loss, but he had never wanted to see this place gone. the ruins would fade, eventually, but they were here for now. ]
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...
Will looks up and smiles at Louis, warm and genuine and guileless and free. Sweet, like the smile of the baby he once was — the child of the queen, a baby that everyone would have celebrated, and thrown a feast for, and sang songs for, even if that baby would never remember the melodies in adulthood. Because celebration is the point of celebration, and it's okay, sometimes, if these things aren't remembered. As long as everyone was happy — for a moment that now only lingers in Louis Charadrius's memories.
Maybe the Sanctum can be theirs, for as long as they live. In the future, when they are both gone, it will belong to someone else, and they can write their stories then. But for now — for now... ]
...Can you tell me more about your parents?
[ He wants to know. Wants to let himself imagine happier endings, for a little while; he wants to think about the kind of person Louis could have been, if the Sanctists never came with their torches and the igniters to light them. ]
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(still, he does not regret it.)
for a moment he's quiet, as if he's trying to collect enough pieces to string together words that may describe them. Will's smile brings some ease, and coaxes more out of him. ]
They were healers. Whatever destructive qualities magla had, they could undo it – no, that would be an insult – rather, they could work it like no other. In that they were unmatched. My mother told me that all in the Charadrius family had always been healers, like a legacy passed down through the ages.
[ most of what he remembers doesn't seem terribly interesting, but Will seems to want to know. ]
She had hair the color of mine, and my father liked to bake bread. They would both always wake before dawn to open the clinic, and would not close until the last person departed. Sometimes it was far past midnight, but despite such late nights, they would get up and do it over again.
[ he considers this, quietly, then continues in the same even tone: ]
Their knowledge burned away with the rest of the village.
[ all that was left was what he could remember. ]
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The flowers around them emit only a faintly sweet, floral scent; beyond that, there is only the scent of moss and ancient wood. The air is lightly humid, in the way that wet, misty woods tend to be, but the grass beneath their feet is so plush that the ground will not even stain Louis's pristine white pants.
After a pause, Will reaches out, and gently lays his hand over Louis's where it rests in the meadow. ]
...If the world were kinder, would you have been a healer, too?
[ Gently, he laces their fingers together, his small palm pressed against Louis's larger knuckles. He wants Louis to know that he isn't alone, even as they navigate their more painful memories together. ]
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Louis knows he is not good at this, but he also knows that Will has been treating him like a wild animal, because he is like one. he's unpredictable, violent, and doesn't do well in chains. there's not much that Louis can show vulnerability to allow Will in, but he can do this.
there's a quiet chuckle that vibrates in his chest. ]
No, I don't think there's a world where I would have been a healer. I wanted to leave so fervently, there's not much that could have kept me from it.
[ he's always felt as if he's betrayed his parents in some way. if the world were kinder, he may have made a good healer – to be quite honest, he still may make a good healer, despite his own personal hangups. he had inevitably reversed their own process for healing types of magla-related illnesses.
it still stands that if he can create humans, it's very possible that Louis may be able to unmake them, as well.
he just hasn't tried. ]
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Oh, it's such a laugh. He's so very, very stupid, to be so enamored with Louis Charadrius.
Maybe he can blame his foolish elda heart.
Madman or murderer or martyr though the man may be, Will nevertheless lets Louis hold him close. He shifts his head slightly, bringing his nose closer to the curve of Louis's chest, where he wonders if that black heart still beats, twisted by anxiety and hatred and the disappointment over the years of realizing that no one would ever help him build a better world.
He's quiet for a little while before he asks: ]
...Is that why you left the castle without saying anything?
[ The closes his eyes, chasing the aftershocks of the rumble in Louis's chest. ]
If you wanted to see the world... I'd see it with you.
[ A faint smile. If you want to run away, I'll run with you. ]
I just... I still want to do right by this country and its people.
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part of him ran because he could, as his own freedom is important to him. another part ran because he wanted to be followed. ]
No, it's not the prospect of world travels that seduced me away. Before such events brought us to where we are now, I had quelled rebellions of both Oceana and Montario. There was purpose within the military, a path that I could climb and exploit, as my will was strong enough. I awoke that day and felt suffocated within the walls of the palace, trapped and rudderless. I left because I could, and in that small rebellion found a sense of ease. I'm not a man made for peace.
[ that was not Will's fault, even if he brought Louis back, the weight of his existence did not fall on him. partially, he's unsure what to do with all his unrest and pain, which he now has no outlet and can do nothing but confront when there's nothing ideological for him to fight against. ]
It is not upon you to give me purpose, I must find it for myself.
[ it is his way of not conceding his values, in one small grasp for his pride. ]
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