[ 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. ]
[ It's relatable enough. Even Will has felt this way, to a certain extent: the life of king is not one he was meant for, not entirely. Oh, he likes shouldering the burdens of his people; he doesn't have problems making decisions that lesser men would fumble and flounder over. But he misses the excitement. The adrenaline of adventure. The comfort of knowing that he had something to do, even if it was just to hunt a bounty or explore some long-forgotten tower. He misses seeing strange and wondrous sights over the horizon each and every day. ]
Even so, I should have known that you felt this way.
[ And it's sticky, isn't it? There are no real solutions. Will thought that he was giving Louis enough: allies to work with, enemies to rout. The prospect of a dream, . But what Louis is speaking of is something deeper — but just that he has no purpose, but that he is uncomfortable with peace.
That isn't something that Will can solve, at least not single-handedly, with the stroke of a pen or the right word uttered at the right time. Even so, he wraps one arm around Louis's waist, holding him close, in an effort to keep him grounded. ]
...Sometimes I feel like that too, I think. [ A short laugh, more like a sigh than anything else. ] Not in the same way. But I miss being on the runner, exploring strange lands, fighting strange monsters... In a strange way, as long as I had you in my sights, I had something to live for.
[ Maybe Louis could use some kind of objective, himself. Will mulls over plans; there must be some creature out there in the world that is causing people trouble. Maybe they should go out and slay some fearsome manjula together, something like that. It would surely not challenge or exert them, but then, the pleasure is in doing, sometimes, no matter how simple the task. ]
...We'll find something for you, Louis. We don't have to do it right away, but we can do it together this time. I'm always ready to go on another adventure.
[ Louis is also not a man used to touch, so it feels a little uncomfortable as Will loops an arm around him, leans into him like a lover. that's not far from the truth, now that there's time to allow their meetings and partings to sink in. they had shared many things, both brimming with affection and lusting for violence. Will is not unwelcome, though, perhaps the most welcome anyone has been with Louis. when he stops to focus on the touch it's warm, sincere, and natural; despite not entirely being used to it, it is nice. perhaps the discomfort comes from knowing that once he gets a taste, he will want it always.
back then it had been a game of push and pull: attempts on each other's lives. it might have been a type of courting, now that Louis reflects on it. while he wasn't blind to Will, he was quite fond of him, Fidelio had warned him several times of his behavior.
he softens somewhat, his body slowly relaxing as Will presses his weight against him. he's not a man of peace, and he's not a man used to having company. together is such a light word coming from Will's lips, one heavy on Louis' heart. there's much he needs to adjust to. ]
We do not have to go straight back – there may be detours. A little rebellion may be good for the king. Our swords have always clashed, but we have never brought them down upon the same enemy.
[ he still has some energy pent up in him, and he realizes he's been itching for a good fight. ]
His laugh is rich and warm and sweet as it rings out over the forest clearing. Once upon a time and long ago, his mother might have laughed in a similar way, listening to the beautiful stories her clemar prince from a foreign land wove for her, and they would not have known then how their story would end, in tragedy and in flames. Today, at least, Will has faith that the tragedies that befell him and Louis are behind them now, and he wants to write a new ending to the tale that he's begun weaving. ]
So you do want me to run away with you!
[ His laughter makes him shaky gentle against Louis's side, under his arm. Even when trembling, he feels very birdlike and small. ]
Fine by me. We'll still have Neuras on the runner, but you're okay with him, right?
[ Louis probably only barely knows who Neuras is, but the old codger can't be any worse than some of the absolutely bizarre personalities that ran the Charadrius. ]
Hulkenberg will have my hide for absconding from the castle again, but... she'll get used to it eventually.
[ A little rebellion, indeed. In his impetuous, princely way, Will is wholly confident that the business of running the country will be in good hands with Gallica and the rest of his Partisans. So what if he takes a romantic little trip with Louis out in the wilderness for a while? Surely the country will not collapse without the personal attention of its king...! ]
We can go up the coast — I've never been there. Oh, and I should teach you how to sword surf! You'd be good at it...
[ if there was no duty, no oppressive religion, no deep seated hatred in this world, they probably would have been friends. they'd be talking here (rather than a field of flowers, a seat at Louis' table) about running away together. it wouldn't be too different: Will chattering about sword surfing and the coast, and Louis itching to get his fingers around the hilt of his blade. it would be easier for them, in those circumstances, to have their parents chase after them with huffs of disappointment about how they had skirted their duties, arguing about who was the worst influence on who. a lovely thought, one without ash and blood, about how their secret lives could have been.
Will takes it in stride, excited about the prospect of travel, and it settles in Louis fondly before he can realize that these traits of Will have always brought this sort of fondness to him. this isn't new, or novel, it's just perspective now that they aren't at odds. getting Will alone is like an experience in itself, no one else is filling the silence, no friends talking for him, just Will chattering excitedly. it's nice, he thinks, and realizes that he would rather have Will like this more often. perhaps that's part of his own selfishness, but unlike Will, he won't be one to curb it. ]
She will have to. There is honor in being a trusted steward.
[ Louis says easily, getting to his feet and helping Will to his. ]
Come, let's run away for a while. If there is discord in your absence, it will be all the more interesting upon our return.
[ he follows Will back through the flowers, but pauses somewhat behind him, plucking one from the ground below, he offers it delicately to Will, as he once held a blade. ]
[ It's all easy and fun for a little while. Will, nestled into Louis's side, babbling about the fun things they can do together. It's true that no one save Louis ever really sees him like this. Most of Will's other friends are content to know him as the sort of quiet young man who only ever says a few words at a time, and he likes that, too; he likes it when they can read him well enough to say what's on his mind for him, in more eloquent ways. But Louis always pushes him to say more, dig deeper into himself — and now, somehow, Louis has become one of the few people in the world who has ever seen him like this: bubbly, talkative, full of sweet dreams.
Then they rise to their feet, and Louis's beautiful gloved hand takes and holds one of the queen's flowers out to him, and Will's brain struggles to keep up with the words he's just heard. ]
You — ...wait. What?
[ I will be your consort, he says, quite suddenly, and without preamble. As though Will did anything particularly special, or even brought it up again at all. ]
You'll be — but I thought you needed more time to...?
[ Are they even talking about the same thing? This is about the proposal, isn't it? And not something else, like the journey? Is Will mistaken? (Gallica's judgmental voice, from a thousand miles away: Louis, this has got to be the worst way to accept a proposal ever. ]
Please don't misunderstand! I'm happy, I just... I, ah, this is a little sudden...
[ Will says this even as his hand closes over the flower and his face flushes a beautiful dusky pink, as if a dusting of rose has been placed neatly over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. ]
[ Will's reaction won't deter him from springing things on him like this again and again – no, it's rather entertaining to see him stumble over the words, his face hot as his thoughts race to catch up with what just happened. ]
If the timing is not to your liking, I could withdraw the acceptance until it's more reasonable for you.
[ now he's just teasing, and he looks a little smug about it.
perhaps it's so sudden, because Louis realized that they were already acting the part. sitting there talking about stewards, skirting responsibilities, and the state of the capital upon return. he fell so easily into it, because Will made it easy. with that, he was certain that he could see himself here, and that he would rather not be anywhere else. even though there are many things he has not worked out for himself yet, including his purpose and where he now fits in this world, he doesn't want to let go of moments like these. he could have more, and the king belonged to the kingdom, in a way, but now the king could belong to him too.
Will will change as well, and Louis can't say he isn't curious to see where life takes him, and what kind of person he'll become again and again.
showmanship mattered, and symbolism mattered, especially to someone like him. where else would he get a better chance to accept? there's no where else that it would mean more. ]
N-No! You can't do that! [ Is that a royal decree, Will? ] ...I mean, you can, but — no! No, you can't!
[ Louis is teasing, and Will is easily teased, it seems, at least by the gloriously beautiful man he's chased across the continent for an entire year and change, and loved enough to bring back from the brink of death despite everything. Still blushing furiously, he lurches forward and presses himself into Louis's body, hugging him around the waist and squeezing him tightly.
It seems Will, too, doesn't want to let go. ]
I...
[ He buries his face fully into the man's chest. After everything that has happened, who would have ever thought they'd be like this together? When Louis proposed that they rule his new world as equals, did he ever think it would be like this? ]
[ Will grabs him full-force, so suddenly that Louis almost sways off of his feet. once they both settle, he rests a hand on the back of his neck, allow him to hold and squeeze until he's satisfied. he's never really been hugged like this, not since he can remember, anyway, as if there was some sort of desperation inside Will that came pouring over the edges and into his arms. ]
Then you will have me.
[ as if Will doesn't have him, already. somewhat amused, he says: ]
You're holding me as if I'll disappear again.
[ while Louis can not promise that he won't run off on occasion, he knows where his place is now. it took a long time, pain and grief, rejection of peace in pursuit of glory, and one blood battle after another, but he made it.
[ Or so Will mumbles, holding Louis ever more fiercely now that his hug is being accepted. Louis's hand feels warm on the back of his neck, even through his gloves. As he squeezes, he suddenly becomes aware that Louis's waist is every bit as small as it looks, despite the broader expanse of his chest and shoulders. Ah, young love... coupled with healthy infatuation. ]
I'll be a terrible husband if I let you disappear a third time.
[ He says this and then flushes an even more intense pink. Evidently, the prospect of actually becoming Louis's husband is still a little dizzying for him. But he'll get used to it, surely!
Husband! He's going to be Louis's husband! ...This is somehow more miraculous than his becoming king. ]
[ Will's hands are wrapped over his waist, just above the curve of his hip. the fit of his current clothing hugs his shape, with Will's arms disappearing into his cape. the hand that was at his neck now rests lightly over his shoulders, Louis doesn't seem to be in any rush to head anywhere. he quite likes this place, the sunlight, the scent, the meadow of flowers. for years he thought returning would be painful, and it was, but it was beautiful, too; perhaps that was because Will was here. ]
You'd best keep your gaze upon me as we head back to the gauntlet runner.
[ a hand presses to the back of Will's head as he flattens his cheek against his chest. such fierce affection in him – Louis wonders where it comes from, or if it just naturally spills out of him like a spring. Louis makes things look easy, as his confidence is flawless, but there are some things that Will makes look easy, too.
this isn't that bad; not at all. he could get quite used to it. ]
[ Realistically, Will knows that they have to part eventually, but he wants to linger in this embrace for as long as Louis will hold him. To have the promise of his hand in this field of flowers, this close to the sanctum, to the place of their shared birth — it's more than his sensitive soul can bear. Secretly, and not without great sentiment, he wonders if his parents would be proud of him. Despite everything, and the circumstances of their deaths. If they would forgive him for the crime of falling in love.
He closes his eyes, allowing himself to be cradled by Louis. He lets himself fall into the sway of the man's heart. ]
You say that like I can take my eyes off you at all...
[ They do leave that meadow of flowers behind eventually. Perhaps Will's great selfishness is that he wanted to claim that ancient forest for himself, but that isn't such a terrible crime, for a king. Louis would have seen it razed and ravaged, in the worst depths of his madness. Now, at least, they have the comfort of knowing that it will stay there, pristine and undisturbed, until the next time that they need it again.
Neuras is only all too happy to take them up the coast. He chortles and cackles his way through the blissful five-day drive, seemingly twice as delighted for the fact that he knows their friends must be in a whirlwind of distress back at home in the capital. (They could fly, but Where's the fun in that? You've got to take the scenic route for a honeymoon! he'd said, despite Will's protests that this was not, in fact, a honeymoon.) For the first time in his life, Will sees the ocean on this end of the continent, so like and yet completely unlike Brilehaven's sparkling waves. The waves are stormier here, white with seafoam and rage. On the northwestern end of Euchronia, the seabeasts rise up from the ocean and spread their fins to soar like birds through the sky.
They manage to have a little adventure of their own. A small hamlet, so far from Grand Trad that they had only barely been aware of the election and Will's subsequent ascension to the throne, has been terrorized by a horrific human sea creature; together, Louis and Will succeed in luring it out with a series of smaller kills. Privately, Will marvels at his fiancé's sheer destructive force: even without magla at his command, Louis does the bulk of the damage in the ensuing fight, all deadly elegance with a simple blade.
That being said...
No one wants to hear about their triumph over the human seabeast when they get back.
"You could have died!" Hulkenberg catastrophizes, as if the king isn't the most powerful man in the country, traveling with the second most powerful man in the country. "You could have been killed! How could you leave without even a word to Gallica —"
"Technically, I did say something to Gallica..."
"Even so! And Neuras! That old fool! When I get my hands on him I'll, I'll — argh!"
Will blinks and smiles through it, still privately marveling that Neuras somehow managed to make a run for it once the runner was parked in its usual royal waiting area again. While Gallica flits around the king's head, as if inspecting him for any damage Louis might have rendered to him, Strohl finally asks the question that any sensible person would want to know:
"So, wait," the clemar general asks, running a hand through his hair as if trying to wrap his head around what's happened, "why did Louis leave without saying anything to anyone in the first place?"
"Oh," Will says, before Louis himself can get a word in. "Because — first of all, we're getting married."
...
Will does not ask if the ensuing shrieks came from Gallica, Hulkenberg, or Junah. It probably wasn't Eupha. It might have been Strohl? It was a lot of voices at once. ]
[ Louis likes the deck when they're moving over land, even with the distant rumble of thunder and the dark anger of the clouds ahead of them. neither the turbulence, weather nor danger seem to deter him, never looking anything more than elegantly tousled from the wind when he returns to the lower quarters. Neuras seems to amuse him, as Louis can find connection in rebellion – he quite likes the spirit that Neuras seems to embody to influence Will's more mischievous side.
when not above deck, he finds a book from the bookshelf, and to his credit, goes through the entire thing on the trip's time. when filled with Will's companions, it's always bustling while they go about their business during their trips, and with Louis it's far quieter. certainly it's because the warm bustle of several bodies is replaced with just two, but also because Louis seems to be happy to bask in the pages of whatever he gets his hands on. like a cat trying to find the best spot to sleep, it takes Louis a few tries to find his favorite reading spot: the table too rigid for him to lean back in the chair, the bed tubes too stuffy (he's rather tall), and the deck too windy (as much as he likes it out there, it's far too turbulent during the gauntlet runner's movement). finally, he picks the squishy old seat on the lower decks. somehow looking oddly elegant against the dingy exterior – it is, partially due to Will (or entirely due to him), far cleaner than it was when the gauntlet runner was first boarded. when Will comes to share the time reading, Louis only has to move an arm or uncross his legs to make room, hardly bothered by the intrusion. (on the way back he even finds places to absently put his hands while his nose is in his book, teasing Will's hair between his fingers as he reads.)
the coast is glorious and rainy, littered with whirlpools and rocky ledges. the trees are tall, their roots so hardy that they've clawed their way into the rock to survive. it's appropriate, Louis thinks, when he sees them, in a way he never really looked at them before. he's relieved when they run into pods of monsters, and then another, and another. the pent up frustration he has had seems to dissipate into the mist surrounding them when he's in battle, even without the aid of magla. the human is a welcome occurrence, and while it takes them only a moment to figure out how to balance themselves in battle, they fall into it so quickly that Louis would consider their coordination more like a dance than not. they treat with the hamlet afterward on bitter beer and an chowder made from various creatures from the coast (Will mentions that Hulkenberg would love it).
Louis' discipline with the blade comes as a second nature, as if it were some sick extension of his arm. when they get back to the gauntlet runner, Louis takes it upon himself to perfect Will's grip. he's certainly not an amateur, far from it, but there's a sort of beauty in the way Will fights that some adjustment would make extraordinary.
"Loosen your grip," he says, his chin just above Will's shoulder, voice low. He's so close that his lips almost touch his ear. there's a palm pressed to Will's lower back as Louis addresses his posture. "Relax your shoulders, you won't drop the weight. Good, just like that ..."
(does Louis know how he's coming off? well, it's difficult to tell.)
when they arrive back in Grand Trad, they meet the explosion that Louis expected. it's rather entertaining to watch them all fuss over him, especially since both the king and his fiancé had cleared the beasts and humans on a few miles of coast not days before. for the most part he rests his arms over his chest, listening to Hulkenberg, then Junah (who's eying him suspiciously, as if she knows something), then Strohl.
when Louis speaks, there's a certain command to it. it does, in some ways, rub the Partisans the wrong way, but to Louis' credit, he doesn't seem to care.
"While your king has evaded his first assassination attempt, there will be others. We have thwarted the plans for the head of the Igniter Consortium only for now, but only for now. An elda on the throne still has far reaching implications, and there still would be those that would use such to their advantage – prejudiced or not. My name and guise will not only be cause for quelling those ambitions, but also for those seeking some comfort.
"It is far to your advantage, as well as it is to mine – though I would believe more for you."
the glares he can take, because he knows he's got the right of it.
after their exchanges, most of which are still cautious, Junah pulls him aside and points directly at the center of his chest. "There's more to this then you're letting on," she accuses, bright eyes narrow. "I know it. You let those rumors fester because they were beneficial to you, and there's benefit to you now, isn't there? Don't you dare bring hurt him."
it would be the first of many confrontations of the same. ]
[ after the announcement, Louis seems calmer. Eupha notices it first, keeping watch over his magla like an eagle on a fox. she mentions it to Will casually, "Whatever you met about may have some resolution, his magla isn't nearly as chaotic lately."
and it's true, while not all of Louis' problems have been resolved, he seems pointedly less restless. it may be due to the engagement, or the vacation (and somewhere to put his blade), or possibly the conflict that the arose due to the betrothal. there's a familiarity with being the one to blame, and he certainly seems to take the conflict in stride. there are other confrontations that the Partisans have with him, and who could blame them, really? even Louis, who was wrongly targeted by their mission, still became something monstrous in the end. by far the most threatening is Heismay, but he's also one of the more reasonable, rather than walking away with conflict, there is a tentative understanding between the two of them.
Louis does get to work in his own way – while he may not have power anymore, he knows how to scratch together some semblance of a working network. he starts with something small: he means to find his books, the rarer ones first, and then the rest, afterward. Fidelio has a handle on it, and after a few days, the first begin to come in. it feels good to have them in his hands again, and when more make their way into the palace, he begins leaving choice texts for Will to find in his chambers after his duties.
there's still no announcement yet, as things are, well – messy would be an understatement. it was best to work things out personally before bringing it to the public's attention. relations between the Six Partisans and Lord Louis is tense at best, and the victories Will wins in soothing them only seem to last a few days.
"They will have to adjust themselves to it," Louis says on a night when they both could share a meal. "You are their king, and even if it's a decision they don't like, it's still yours."
during talks about how the announcement will be planned, who first should get the message (certain nobles could be quite finnicky to who gets information first, they don't want to hear something from the rumors in town), and what the timing would be to the council and Sanctist Church, Louis takes notice that Will looks pale. the magla suppressors make it difficult for him to make the details of it, but he's tuned into Will enough to know something is not right.
he stands up before Will collapses, the eyes in the room going to him, before they're back on Will. the rest happens quickly, Hulkenberg is called, who frantically commands the guard to take their king to his quarters, and then for the doctors. the room is scrambling, and Eupha takes off after the guards to follow Will, certainly on the same notion that Louis had.
with his eyes narrowed, he trails behind group. his heart is pounding in his chest, up against his eardrums, only betrayed by his easy stride. ]
[ Will does not regret returning to Grand Trad, but for a few days, secretly and in the privacy of his heart where Akademeia once stood, he does sort of regret the fact that he did not relish his private vacation with Louis for a little while longer. It was so nice while it lasted: only having to think about the sea spray in the air, and the fresh breeze on the deck, and the beasts that they would slay for sport and profit and minor bits of political support. Now that Will is no adventurer but a king again, he feels caught between too many parties: boardrooms, courtrooms, his people, his friends, the nobility, the church. It is clear that the nation is in no condition to hear about the king's betrothal to Louis Guiabern, in no small part because Louis himself has yet to win over the king's own confidants.
(Nearly all of the Partisans see no value in the idea of Will marrying Louis. Gallica only buzzes in confusion until Will finally admits to her that he truly does love the man. Junah, Eupha, and Hulkenberg seem actively decided against it, perhaps in no small part because all three would have better access to the kinds of stories that arise when frail princesses are married to tyrants — though of the three, Eupha somewhat surprisingly seems the most amenable to being persuaded about the idea. Strohl seems to flip-flop in his position, occasionally mentioning that he sees the political merit in it, then casting his golden-brown eyes to the floor as he contemplates the prospect of a country with the man he nearly sees as his father's killer on the throne. Fidelio and Basilio generally treat the idea as more of a joke than anything else, though Will has detected flashes of frustration in Fidelio's yellow eyes, as though what truly frustrates him is the idea that perhaps he never understood Louis at all.
Only Neuras knows the way that Louis and Will had curled up with each other on the runner, each laying on the other's warmth, turning idle pages, fingers carding through silken hair. Only Louis knows the way that his warm hands and low whispers made Will tense up, aching for more than careful touch.)
...Heismay does come to threaten Louis one night.
Or perhaps that's not quite his objective. The eugief comes and goes near-silently; it's an easy thing for him to be found waiting for Louis to emerge from the bath in his quarters, hanging upside-down from the ceiling, arms folded in his usual eugief way.
The man doesn't bother with the usual sort of intimidation before an interrogation — only launches into his remarks. "I know not whether you still have designs upon this nation," Heismay murmurs in a quiet, low voice, "but I have taken the measure of you, Louis. You do not strike me as the sort of man who would claw his way to the throne through seduction and marriage. You strike me as the kind of man who is too prideful to do that."
A pause, and then his gleaming red eyes vanish completely from sight.
"My advice to you — not as your enemy, but as an older man who once lost what he loved — is this: cherish him. Every moment you have with him. You and he deserve better than what men like me were given."
Regardless — Will knows nothing of this. The following morning, he looks pale, a little disoriented. He tries to hide it from his friends, particularly Gallica, who is thinking the same thing he is: He looks the way he did when he was suffering from Rella's curse.
He manages to shake off the blur in his vision, powering his way through breakfast, and then a tedious meeting featuring traders from the merchants' guild, come to protest wages withheld by their employers. During the strategy meeting with his Partisans that comes afterward, when the idea of the engagement with Louis is brought up again, he finally finds it in his body to relax, let his shoulders slump, heave a sigh —
— only to collapse outright from the chair in which he's seated.
Everyone stands up in a panic after that.
Eupha is already channeling an Archetype of the Healer line as Hulkenberg calls for a doctor, but the issue affecting his magla, the mustari reports soon afterward, is not one that an Archetype can solve. The ordinary doctors quibble about what ails him: An illness? An infection? Another curse? (There is some talk of bloodletting; another doctor says the leech enthusiast should be fired.)
Basilio mutters under his breath about how he doesn't like these kinds of doctors; Strohl admits readily that they should have done a better job of cleaning house in the medical department. The royal doctors were the ones who let Hythlodaeus V become bedridden, but no one had thought to remove them until Will came down sick. ]
[ Louis sees no reason to divulge his feelings – how could any of them possibly understand? both Louis and Will have done terrible things to one another, both forgiving of each other's transgressions in favor of their affections. when he watches the Partisans argue over Will's choices, he feels a quiet rage flicker inside of him that never quite reaches the surface. out of all of this, they can only still think of their own pain, and not the complicated net of circumstances that created it: one they were all very much a part of. for the most part, Louis does not accuse them of their own missteps; it is, in most ways, useless. it's not because he sees some moral superiority in it, but simply because he's kept it to himself for so long that it seems like walking into an impasse. he's been blamed for far worse, and it's never hindered his strength.
there are a few glances passed his way, and he knows the question that is now repeating like a mantra in all of their minds: did Louis Guiabern do this? for a moment he hates all of them, viciously, displacing his worry for rage.
"It could be that another curse was ..." the doctor is looking at him, out of the corner of her eye, uttering the thought into being by breathing life into the words.
that's it. Louis is done watching them scramble like rats in their ignorance, flitting around the king how he remembers them flitting around Hythlodeaus in his bedridden grief. from behind the mingle of people that have made their way into Will's private quarters, Louis steps up.
"Leave," he demands, voice sharp. "Now."
"With all due respect, only the –"
"Leave or I will drag you out."
the doctors all look at one another, some of their mouths agape, others trying to find words to argue where Louis left no room for argument. now threatened, they all leave the room, Basilio muttering under how it's easier to breathe now. Hulkenberg looks like she wants to retaliate Louis' demands, but only glares at him for now.
"You, General Strohl. There's an eldan village to the east, take the most trusted of your soldiers and seek Gruidae. She has a text that details magla flow in the body. Travel through the night if you must and do not rest until your return."
"This isn't a curse, is it?" Gallica asks, already knowing the answer. "It's something else."
Louis nods, briefly, and from Will's side, Eupha does too. pulling glove off of his middle finger, he presses a palm to Will's forehead. he's hot, and Louis can only trace the flow of the magla like a dull feeling in his nerves.
"Remove these," he says to Eupha, holding out his wrist, adorn with the bracelets.
"I'm ... sorry?"
"I can't be of use to him if I'm still chained. You can shackle me again after this is over if it comforts you."
"You cannot be serious," Hulkenberg interjects. Eupha's inquiring gaze meets hers. Right now, her anger seems to match Louis', out of both terror of failure and concern for her beloved prince. "Will you still be a threat? It's not far from here that you drove a blade into the king's chest."
"And it's not far from here that you chased a culprit of whom you convinced yourself was me. I'm here because your king wills it – you either trust his judgement or I will find another way to shatter these chains without your aid."
"If you mean treachery, I swear by my blade, Louis Guiabern –"
Eupha's removing the bracelets, taking them gingerly from Louis' wrists and into her hands. her expression is mixed, she certainly doesn't trust this man with much, but the two of them have reached an understanding on Will's condition.
"If you use too much magla, I'll know." that is her only warning.
watching Will for a moment, Louis notes how small he looks cradled under the covers, a wince crossing his expression.
(Basilio and Fidelio glance at one another. "He's still got it, eh? I haven't heard him this mad in a long while. Still a bit rough, though." Fidelio grins.) ]
[ Strohl, ever the general who never quite stopped being a soldier, is always quick to answer an order when he's been given one. "I'll take the runner," he answers quickly, already halfway out the door.
Junah isn't present in the room — she's off at the Mage's Academy again today, and as she doesn't have the runner, she can't herself teleport over — but Heismay watches the group in her stead for a few moments, his bright eugief eyes nearly as glassy as her brilliant nidia irises. After another moment, he disappears. "I'll go with Strohl," are his last remarks before they set off. It's likely a thought with some strategy behind it; Heismay was always their barrelman whenever they were out on the runner together, and while Neuras likely won't need a second set of eyes to watch for enemies in the air, it's better for Strohl to not be the only combatant on the runner, all the same.
...
In his slumber, Will dreams.
It's not a very nice dream, but it's also a very disjointed one. He is human again, impossibly large, with curse-magenta magla surging through his veins. The little teeth monsters want to play hide-and-seek with him, but when he tries to step forward to find them, he accidentally crushes a few under his feet. He's very sad about this. He cries a little.
When he wakes, he's not quite so distressed, but he's vaguely conscious of yelling around him, an argument taking place. His brow furrows; he's still not fully awake. The teeth all seem very upset with him — or are they just upset over him? He can't quite tell...
His lashes flutter open; his eyes scan the room blearily. Did they return him to his own bed, or is this a bed in another room? His eyes scan colors, shapes; there's Eupha over there to his left, the Magnus brothers in the corner, Hulkenberg by the wall. Louis, close by his bedside, his long-lashed eyes positively burning with fury and — what seems like — ]
...Louis...?
[ His lashes flutter closed, then open again. He gropes weakly for Louis's wrist. The man's hand feels so cool on his forehead; can he move it to his cheek and neck too? It would feel so nice, so comforting... ]
Don't look so sad... I just had a bad dream, that's all...
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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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Even so, I should have known that you felt this way.
[ And it's sticky, isn't it? There are no real solutions. Will thought that he was giving Louis enough: allies to work with, enemies to rout. The prospect of a dream, . But what Louis is speaking of is something deeper — but just that he has no purpose, but that he is uncomfortable with peace.
That isn't something that Will can solve, at least not single-handedly, with the stroke of a pen or the right word uttered at the right time. Even so, he wraps one arm around Louis's waist, holding him close, in an effort to keep him grounded. ]
...Sometimes I feel like that too, I think. [ A short laugh, more like a sigh than anything else. ] Not in the same way. But I miss being on the runner, exploring strange lands, fighting strange monsters... In a strange way, as long as I had you in my sights, I had something to live for.
[ Maybe Louis could use some kind of objective, himself. Will mulls over plans; there must be some creature out there in the world that is causing people trouble. Maybe they should go out and slay some fearsome manjula together, something like that. It would surely not challenge or exert them, but then, the pleasure is in doing, sometimes, no matter how simple the task. ]
...We'll find something for you, Louis. We don't have to do it right away, but we can do it together this time. I'm always ready to go on another adventure.
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back then it had been a game of push and pull: attempts on each other's lives. it might have been a type of courting, now that Louis reflects on it. while he wasn't blind to Will, he was quite fond of him, Fidelio had warned him several times of his behavior.
he softens somewhat, his body slowly relaxing as Will presses his weight against him. he's not a man of peace, and he's not a man used to having company. together is such a light word coming from Will's lips, one heavy on Louis' heart. there's much he needs to adjust to. ]
We do not have to go straight back – there may be detours. A little rebellion may be good for the king. Our swords have always clashed, but we have never brought them down upon the same enemy.
[ he still has some energy pent up in him, and he realizes he's been itching for a good fight. ]
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Will can't help but break into laughter.
His laugh is rich and warm and sweet as it rings out over the forest clearing. Once upon a time and long ago, his mother might have laughed in a similar way, listening to the beautiful stories her clemar prince from a foreign land wove for her, and they would not have known then how their story would end, in tragedy and in flames. Today, at least, Will has faith that the tragedies that befell him and Louis are behind them now, and he wants to write a new ending to the tale that he's begun weaving. ]
So you do want me to run away with you!
[ His laughter makes him shaky gentle against Louis's side, under his arm. Even when trembling, he feels very birdlike and small. ]
Fine by me. We'll still have Neuras on the runner, but you're okay with him, right?
[ Louis probably only barely knows who Neuras is, but the old codger can't be any worse than some of the absolutely bizarre personalities that ran the Charadrius. ]
Hulkenberg will have my hide for absconding from the castle again, but... she'll get used to it eventually.
[ A little rebellion, indeed. In his impetuous, princely way, Will is wholly confident that the business of running the country will be in good hands with Gallica and the rest of his Partisans. So what if he takes a romantic little trip with Louis out in the wilderness for a while? Surely the country will not collapse without the personal attention of its king...! ]
We can go up the coast — I've never been there. Oh, and I should teach you how to sword surf! You'd be good at it...
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Will takes it in stride, excited about the prospect of travel, and it settles in Louis fondly before he can realize that these traits of Will have always brought this sort of fondness to him. this isn't new, or novel, it's just perspective now that they aren't at odds. getting Will alone is like an experience in itself, no one else is filling the silence, no friends talking for him, just Will chattering excitedly. it's nice, he thinks, and realizes that he would rather have Will like this more often. perhaps that's part of his own selfishness, but unlike Will, he won't be one to curb it. ]
She will have to. There is honor in being a trusted steward.
[ Louis says easily, getting to his feet and helping Will to his. ]
Come, let's run away for a while. If there is discord in your absence, it will be all the more interesting upon our return.
[ he follows Will back through the flowers, but pauses somewhat behind him, plucking one from the ground below, he offers it delicately to Will, as he once held a blade. ]
I will be your consort.
[ and that's that. ]
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Then they rise to their feet, and Louis's beautiful gloved hand takes and holds one of the queen's flowers out to him, and Will's brain struggles to keep up with the words he's just heard. ]
You — ...wait. What?
[ I will be your consort, he says, quite suddenly, and without preamble. As though Will did anything particularly special, or even brought it up again at all. ]
You'll be — but I thought you needed more time to...?
[ Are they even talking about the same thing? This is about the proposal, isn't it? And not something else, like the journey? Is Will mistaken? (Gallica's judgmental voice, from a thousand miles away: Louis, this has got to be the worst way to accept a proposal ever. ]
Please don't misunderstand! I'm happy, I just... I, ah, this is a little sudden...
[ Will says this even as his hand closes over the flower and his face flushes a beautiful dusky pink, as if a dusting of rose has been placed neatly over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. ]
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If the timing is not to your liking, I could withdraw the acceptance until it's more reasonable for you.
[ now he's just teasing, and he looks a little smug about it.
perhaps it's so sudden, because Louis realized that they were already acting the part. sitting there talking about stewards, skirting responsibilities, and the state of the capital upon return. he fell so easily into it, because Will made it easy. with that, he was certain that he could see himself here, and that he would rather not be anywhere else. even though there are many things he has not worked out for himself yet, including his purpose and where he now fits in this world, he doesn't want to let go of moments like these. he could have more, and the king belonged to the kingdom, in a way, but now the king could belong to him too.
Will will change as well, and Louis can't say he isn't curious to see where life takes him, and what kind of person he'll become again and again.
showmanship mattered, and symbolism mattered, especially to someone like him. where else would he get a better chance to accept? there's no where else that it would mean more. ]
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[ Louis is teasing, and Will is easily teased, it seems, at least by the gloriously beautiful man he's chased across the continent for an entire year and change, and loved enough to bring back from the brink of death despite everything. Still blushing furiously, he lurches forward and presses himself into Louis's body, hugging him around the waist and squeezing him tightly.
It seems Will, too, doesn't want to let go. ]
I...
[ He buries his face fully into the man's chest. After everything that has happened, who would have ever thought they'd be like this together? When Louis proposed that they rule his new world as equals, did he ever think it would be like this? ]
I wanted you more than I ever wanted the throne.
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Then you will have me.
[ as if Will doesn't have him, already. somewhat amused, he says: ]
You're holding me as if I'll disappear again.
[ while Louis can not promise that he won't run off on occasion, he knows where his place is now. it took a long time, pain and grief, rejection of peace in pursuit of glory, and one blood battle after another, but he made it.
somehow, he made it here. ]
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[ Or so Will mumbles, holding Louis ever more fiercely now that his hug is being accepted. Louis's hand feels warm on the back of his neck, even through his gloves. As he squeezes, he suddenly becomes aware that Louis's waist is every bit as small as it looks, despite the broader expanse of his chest and shoulders. Ah, young love... coupled with healthy infatuation. ]
I'll be a terrible husband if I let you disappear a third time.
[ He says this and then flushes an even more intense pink. Evidently, the prospect of actually becoming Louis's husband is still a little dizzying for him. But he'll get used to it, surely!
Husband! He's going to be Louis's husband! ...This is somehow more miraculous than his becoming king. ]
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You'd best keep your gaze upon me as we head back to the gauntlet runner.
[ a hand presses to the back of Will's head as he flattens his cheek against his chest. such fierce affection in him – Louis wonders where it comes from, or if it just naturally spills out of him like a spring. Louis makes things look easy, as his confidence is flawless, but there are some things that Will makes look easy, too.
this isn't that bad; not at all. he could get quite used to it. ]
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He closes his eyes, allowing himself to be cradled by Louis. He lets himself fall into the sway of the man's heart. ]
You say that like I can take my eyes off you at all...
[ They do leave that meadow of flowers behind eventually. Perhaps Will's great selfishness is that he wanted to claim that ancient forest for himself, but that isn't such a terrible crime, for a king. Louis would have seen it razed and ravaged, in the worst depths of his madness. Now, at least, they have the comfort of knowing that it will stay there, pristine and undisturbed, until the next time that they need it again.
Neuras is only all too happy to take them up the coast. He chortles and cackles his way through the blissful five-day drive, seemingly twice as delighted for the fact that he knows their friends must be in a whirlwind of distress back at home in the capital. (They could fly, but Where's the fun in that? You've got to take the scenic route for a honeymoon! he'd said, despite Will's protests that this was not, in fact, a honeymoon.) For the first time in his life, Will sees the ocean on this end of the continent, so like and yet completely unlike Brilehaven's sparkling waves. The waves are stormier here, white with seafoam and rage. On the northwestern end of Euchronia, the seabeasts rise up from the ocean and spread their fins to soar like birds through the sky.
They manage to have a little adventure of their own. A small hamlet, so far from Grand Trad that they had only barely been aware of the election and Will's subsequent ascension to the throne, has been terrorized by a horrific human sea creature; together, Louis and Will succeed in luring it out with a series of smaller kills. Privately, Will marvels at his fiancé's sheer destructive force: even without magla at his command, Louis does the bulk of the damage in the ensuing fight, all deadly elegance with a simple blade.
That being said...
No one wants to hear about their triumph over the human seabeast when they get back.
"You could have died!" Hulkenberg catastrophizes, as if the king isn't the most powerful man in the country, traveling with the second most powerful man in the country. "You could have been killed! How could you leave without even a word to Gallica —"
"Technically, I did say something to Gallica..."
"Even so! And Neuras! That old fool! When I get my hands on him I'll, I'll — argh!"
Will blinks and smiles through it, still privately marveling that Neuras somehow managed to make a run for it once the runner was parked in its usual royal waiting area again. While Gallica flits around the king's head, as if inspecting him for any damage Louis might have rendered to him, Strohl finally asks the question that any sensible person would want to know:
"So, wait," the clemar general asks, running a hand through his hair as if trying to wrap his head around what's happened, "why did Louis leave without saying anything to anyone in the first place?"
"Oh," Will says, before Louis himself can get a word in. "Because — first of all, we're getting married."
...
Will does not ask if the ensuing shrieks came from Gallica, Hulkenberg, or Junah. It probably wasn't Eupha. It might have been Strohl? It was a lot of voices at once. ]
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when not above deck, he finds a book from the bookshelf, and to his credit, goes through the entire thing on the trip's time. when filled with Will's companions, it's always bustling while they go about their business during their trips, and with Louis it's far quieter. certainly it's because the warm bustle of several bodies is replaced with just two, but also because Louis seems to be happy to bask in the pages of whatever he gets his hands on. like a cat trying to find the best spot to sleep, it takes Louis a few tries to find his favorite reading spot: the table too rigid for him to lean back in the chair, the bed tubes too stuffy (he's rather tall), and the deck too windy (as much as he likes it out there, it's far too turbulent during the gauntlet runner's movement). finally, he picks the squishy old seat on the lower decks. somehow looking oddly elegant against the dingy exterior – it is, partially due to Will (or entirely due to him), far cleaner than it was when the gauntlet runner was first boarded. when Will comes to share the time reading, Louis only has to move an arm or uncross his legs to make room, hardly bothered by the intrusion. (on the way back he even finds places to absently put his hands while his nose is in his book, teasing Will's hair between his fingers as he reads.)
the coast is glorious and rainy, littered with whirlpools and rocky ledges. the trees are tall, their roots so hardy that they've clawed their way into the rock to survive. it's appropriate, Louis thinks, when he sees them, in a way he never really looked at them before. he's relieved when they run into pods of monsters, and then another, and another. the pent up frustration he has had seems to dissipate into the mist surrounding them when he's in battle, even without the aid of magla. the human is a welcome occurrence, and while it takes them only a moment to figure out how to balance themselves in battle, they fall into it so quickly that Louis would consider their coordination more like a dance than not. they treat with the hamlet afterward on bitter beer and an chowder made from various creatures from the coast (Will mentions that Hulkenberg would love it).
Louis' discipline with the blade comes as a second nature, as if it were some sick extension of his arm. when they get back to the gauntlet runner, Louis takes it upon himself to perfect Will's grip. he's certainly not an amateur, far from it, but there's a sort of beauty in the way Will fights that some adjustment would make extraordinary.
"Loosen your grip," he says, his chin just above Will's shoulder, voice low. He's so close that his lips almost touch his ear. there's a palm pressed to Will's lower back as Louis addresses his posture. "Relax your shoulders, you won't drop the weight. Good, just like that ..."
(does Louis know how he's coming off? well, it's difficult to tell.)
when they arrive back in Grand Trad, they meet the explosion that Louis expected. it's rather entertaining to watch them all fuss over him, especially since both the king and his fiancé had cleared the beasts and humans on a few miles of coast not days before. for the most part he rests his arms over his chest, listening to Hulkenberg, then Junah (who's eying him suspiciously, as if she knows something), then Strohl.
when Louis speaks, there's a certain command to it. it does, in some ways, rub the Partisans the wrong way, but to Louis' credit, he doesn't seem to care.
"While your king has evaded his first assassination attempt, there will be others. We have thwarted the plans for the head of the Igniter Consortium only for now, but only for now. An elda on the throne still has far reaching implications, and there still would be those that would use such to their advantage – prejudiced or not. My name and guise will not only be cause for quelling those ambitions, but also for those seeking some comfort.
"It is far to your advantage, as well as it is to mine – though I would believe more for you."
the glares he can take, because he knows he's got the right of it.
after their exchanges, most of which are still cautious, Junah pulls him aside and points directly at the center of his chest. "There's more to this then you're letting on," she accuses, bright eyes narrow. "I know it. You let those rumors fester because they were beneficial to you, and there's benefit to you now, isn't there? Don't you dare bring hurt him."
it would be the first of many confrontations of the same. ]
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and it's true, while not all of Louis' problems have been resolved, he seems pointedly less restless. it may be due to the engagement, or the vacation (and somewhere to put his blade), or possibly the conflict that the arose due to the betrothal. there's a familiarity with being the one to blame, and he certainly seems to take the conflict in stride. there are other confrontations that the Partisans have with him, and who could blame them, really? even Louis, who was wrongly targeted by their mission, still became something monstrous in the end. by far the most threatening is Heismay, but he's also one of the more reasonable, rather than walking away with conflict, there is a tentative understanding between the two of them.
Louis does get to work in his own way – while he may not have power anymore, he knows how to scratch together some semblance of a working network. he starts with something small: he means to find his books, the rarer ones first, and then the rest, afterward. Fidelio has a handle on it, and after a few days, the first begin to come in. it feels good to have them in his hands again, and when more make their way into the palace, he begins leaving choice texts for Will to find in his chambers after his duties.
there's still no announcement yet, as things are, well – messy would be an understatement. it was best to work things out personally before bringing it to the public's attention. relations between the Six Partisans and Lord Louis is tense at best, and the victories Will wins in soothing them only seem to last a few days.
"They will have to adjust themselves to it," Louis says on a night when they both could share a meal. "You are their king, and even if it's a decision they don't like, it's still yours."
during talks about how the announcement will be planned, who first should get the message (certain nobles could be quite finnicky to who gets information first, they don't want to hear something from the rumors in town), and what the timing would be to the council and Sanctist Church, Louis takes notice that Will looks pale. the magla suppressors make it difficult for him to make the details of it, but he's tuned into Will enough to know something is not right.
he stands up before Will collapses, the eyes in the room going to him, before they're back on Will. the rest happens quickly, Hulkenberg is called, who frantically commands the guard to take their king to his quarters, and then for the doctors. the room is scrambling, and Eupha takes off after the guards to follow Will, certainly on the same notion that Louis had.
with his eyes narrowed, he trails behind group. his heart is pounding in his chest, up against his eardrums, only betrayed by his easy stride. ]
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(Nearly all of the Partisans see no value in the idea of Will marrying Louis. Gallica only buzzes in confusion until Will finally admits to her that he truly does love the man. Junah, Eupha, and Hulkenberg seem actively decided against it, perhaps in no small part because all three would have better access to the kinds of stories that arise when frail princesses are married to tyrants — though of the three, Eupha somewhat surprisingly seems the most amenable to being persuaded about the idea. Strohl seems to flip-flop in his position, occasionally mentioning that he sees the political merit in it, then casting his golden-brown eyes to the floor as he contemplates the prospect of a country with the man he nearly sees as his father's killer on the throne. Fidelio and Basilio generally treat the idea as more of a joke than anything else, though Will has detected flashes of frustration in Fidelio's yellow eyes, as though what truly frustrates him is the idea that perhaps he never understood Louis at all.
Only Neuras knows the way that Louis and Will had curled up with each other on the runner, each laying on the other's warmth, turning idle pages, fingers carding through silken hair. Only Louis knows the way that his warm hands and low whispers made Will tense up, aching for more than careful touch.)
...Heismay does come to threaten Louis one night.
Or perhaps that's not quite his objective. The eugief comes and goes near-silently; it's an easy thing for him to be found waiting for Louis to emerge from the bath in his quarters, hanging upside-down from the ceiling, arms folded in his usual eugief way.
The man doesn't bother with the usual sort of intimidation before an interrogation — only launches into his remarks. "I know not whether you still have designs upon this nation," Heismay murmurs in a quiet, low voice, "but I have taken the measure of you, Louis. You do not strike me as the sort of man who would claw his way to the throne through seduction and marriage. You strike me as the kind of man who is too prideful to do that."
A pause, and then his gleaming red eyes vanish completely from sight.
"My advice to you — not as your enemy, but as an older man who once lost what he loved — is this: cherish him. Every moment you have with him. You and he deserve better than what men like me were given."
Regardless — Will knows nothing of this. The following morning, he looks pale, a little disoriented. He tries to hide it from his friends, particularly Gallica, who is thinking the same thing he is: He looks the way he did when he was suffering from Rella's curse.
He manages to shake off the blur in his vision, powering his way through breakfast, and then a tedious meeting featuring traders from the merchants' guild, come to protest wages withheld by their employers. During the strategy meeting with his Partisans that comes afterward, when the idea of the engagement with Louis is brought up again, he finally finds it in his body to relax, let his shoulders slump, heave a sigh —
— only to collapse outright from the chair in which he's seated.
Everyone stands up in a panic after that.
Eupha is already channeling an Archetype of the Healer line as Hulkenberg calls for a doctor, but the issue affecting his magla, the mustari reports soon afterward, is not one that an Archetype can solve. The ordinary doctors quibble about what ails him: An illness? An infection? Another curse? (There is some talk of bloodletting; another doctor says the leech enthusiast should be fired.)
Basilio mutters under his breath about how he doesn't like these kinds of doctors; Strohl admits readily that they should have done a better job of cleaning house in the medical department. The royal doctors were the ones who let Hythlodaeus V become bedridden, but no one had thought to remove them until Will came down sick. ]
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there are a few glances passed his way, and he knows the question that is now repeating like a mantra in all of their minds: did Louis Guiabern do this? for a moment he hates all of them, viciously, displacing his worry for rage.
"It could be that another curse was ..." the doctor is looking at him, out of the corner of her eye, uttering the thought into being by breathing life into the words.
that's it. Louis is done watching them scramble like rats in their ignorance, flitting around the king how he remembers them flitting around Hythlodeaus in his bedridden grief. from behind the mingle of people that have made their way into Will's private quarters, Louis steps up.
"Leave," he demands, voice sharp. "Now."
"With all due respect, only the –"
"Leave or I will drag you out."
the doctors all look at one another, some of their mouths agape, others trying to find words to argue where Louis left no room for argument. now threatened, they all leave the room, Basilio muttering under how it's easier to breathe now. Hulkenberg looks like she wants to retaliate Louis' demands, but only glares at him for now.
"You, General Strohl. There's an eldan village to the east, take the most trusted of your soldiers and seek Gruidae. She has a text that details magla flow in the body. Travel through the night if you must and do not rest until your return."
"This isn't a curse, is it?" Gallica asks, already knowing the answer. "It's something else."
Louis nods, briefly, and from Will's side, Eupha does too. pulling glove off of his middle finger, he presses a palm to Will's forehead. he's hot, and Louis can only trace the flow of the magla like a dull feeling in his nerves.
"Remove these," he says to Eupha, holding out his wrist, adorn with the bracelets.
"I'm ... sorry?"
"I can't be of use to him if I'm still chained. You can shackle me again after this is over if it comforts you."
"You cannot be serious," Hulkenberg interjects. Eupha's inquiring gaze meets hers. Right now, her anger seems to match Louis', out of both terror of failure and concern for her beloved prince. "Will you still be a threat? It's not far from here that you drove a blade into the king's chest."
"And it's not far from here that you chased a culprit of whom you convinced yourself was me. I'm here because your king wills it – you either trust his judgement or I will find another way to shatter these chains without your aid."
"If you mean treachery, I swear by my blade, Louis Guiabern –"
Eupha's removing the bracelets, taking them gingerly from Louis' wrists and into her hands. her expression is mixed, she certainly doesn't trust this man with much, but the two of them have reached an understanding on Will's condition.
"If you use too much magla, I'll know." that is her only warning.
watching Will for a moment, Louis notes how small he looks cradled under the covers, a wince crossing his expression.
(Basilio and Fidelio glance at one another. "He's still got it, eh? I haven't heard him this mad in a long while. Still a bit rough, though." Fidelio grins.) ]
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Junah isn't present in the room — she's off at the Mage's Academy again today, and as she doesn't have the runner, she can't herself teleport over — but Heismay watches the group in her stead for a few moments, his bright eugief eyes nearly as glassy as her brilliant nidia irises. After another moment, he disappears. "I'll go with Strohl," are his last remarks before they set off. It's likely a thought with some strategy behind it; Heismay was always their barrelman whenever they were out on the runner together, and while Neuras likely won't need a second set of eyes to watch for enemies in the air, it's better for Strohl to not be the only combatant on the runner, all the same.
...
In his slumber, Will dreams.
It's not a very nice dream, but it's also a very disjointed one. He is human again, impossibly large, with curse-magenta magla surging through his veins. The little teeth monsters want to play hide-and-seek with him, but when he tries to step forward to find them, he accidentally crushes a few under his feet. He's very sad about this. He cries a little.
When he wakes, he's not quite so distressed, but he's vaguely conscious of yelling around him, an argument taking place. His brow furrows; he's still not fully awake. The teeth all seem very upset with him — or are they just upset over him? He can't quite tell...
His lashes flutter open; his eyes scan the room blearily. Did they return him to his own bed, or is this a bed in another room? His eyes scan colors, shapes; there's Eupha over there to his left, the Magnus brothers in the corner, Hulkenberg by the wall. Louis, close by his bedside, his long-lashed eyes positively burning with fury and — what seems like — ]
...Louis...?
[ His lashes flutter closed, then open again. He gropes weakly for Louis's wrist. The man's hand feels so cool on his forehead; can he move it to his cheek and neck too? It would feel so nice, so comforting... ]
Don't look so sad... I just had a bad dream, that's all...
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