[ while he should have asked how long it's been, he has some idea from the way that Will holds himself, from the way he speaks of politics, of the Sanctist church who most likely wants him dead. ]
Given the opportunity, change does not come swiftly, but it will come violently if left unattended for long enough.
[ isn't that what he intended to do? some sort of violent upheaval. his resentment toward the church and even the populous was still inside him, remembering their indifference, cruelty and greed.
but that's enough of that, isn't it? there is work to be done, no matter how many feelings that he must sort through. his body is weak, and his mind still feels muted, and here he is, in this place he never thought he'd return to. ]
I've not dined here since I was a head less taller than you. This formerly hallowed village is still worse for the wear, I see.
[ he notices Will's blanket around his shoulders, and then with a grunt of displeasure, wraps it around his waist. it's for Will's friends, rather than himself, he doesn't care anymore about his nudity now that his heart is lodged in his chest and bare to the world. ]
[ You're the one who brings change violently, Will wants to say, but he lets the thought die on his tongue. No real point in bringing that up now, and besides, Louis's point is more towards concern over the current Sanctist council. He's not wrong, certainly not; Will knows that he needs to be wary of the same forces that killed his mother, and eventually, his father as well — but, as with many things, he thinks it's okay to take steps one at a time.
...More importantly, it does bring Will some amusement that Louis covers himself up of his own volition. So he is capable of some degree of consideration for Will's friends after all, is he?
Once the man has properly robed himself — and he looks more angelic than ever, with only that thin cloth wrapped round his waist for modesty — Will extends a hand as if to gallantly help Louis to his feet.
They can leave together, he means to say. As equals, and not as a king and his prisoner.
(Some of his friends will almost certainly treat Louis like a prisoner, though.) ]
Did you want to eat here, in the village? Things have changed since I took the throne... most of the villagers have left now.
[ Would Louis want to? He never spoke of the eldan village with much emotion other than disdain — but surely its loss would not have affected him so profoundly if he hadn't loved it in some way?
When he named his skyrunner the Charadrius, was it for his parents, or for himself? ]
...I was thinking we could eat on the runner. Basilio's gotten very good at using our kitchen, you know, and I think he'd be happy to cook for you again.
[ there are still many things he wants to ask, but he has to settle himself with what this all means, first. the only memories he has of this place are flame, and he left as soon as he was able, not because it was gone, but because he couldn't stand being there anymore. ]
The skyrunner would be preferable.
[ for a moment he looks at Will's hand, because it means more than just a hand to his feet. it's a loaded gesture, one that's quite the reminder that someone in this cruel world cared enough to want him back, no matter how much he hurt them. he's not sure what to do with that – it's like a thread in the tapestry had woven about savagery of this world, and the kindness that will, with one pull, unravel the whole thing. it makes him so uncomfortable, to have his identity exposed in that way, but it also stirs that dream he had so long ago. there may be more warmth in the world than just fire.
is he ready to leave this place, for real this time, just like he had wanted to back then?
after his consideration, he takes it, allowing Will to give him some support as he gets to his feet. ]
I'm sure that Basilio would like a word with me, after all. As the rest of your friends.
[ Will may not consider him a prisoner, but he knows he will be one until he either escapes or proves otherwise. it's going to be a long, uncomfortable, maddening road. ]
[ Louis has always wondered what the inside of the Prince's (King's, now) gauntlet runner looked like on the inside. it was, at most, a mild curiosity that crept on him when he was reading, after Will tried to kill him with Drakodios, he wondered more. as Neuras continued to make modifications, Louis found himself thinking about it more and more, even as his brain unraveled from the magla.
Will gets him something simple to dress himself in, but no matter how common the clothes, he still manages to look like he belongs on a throne, evening sitting on the deck for a meal.
at first everything is tense, and he certainly feels like someone who's disrupted a family dinner. while it's uncomfortable, it's also kind of fun to him in its own way. Hulkenberg is by far the one most stirred by his presence, he notices her watching him from the corner of her eye, especially when he lingers around Will too long, or too close, for her comfort. Strohl is uncertain, and along with Fidelio and Basilio, Louis considers Strohl to have the most reason to dislike him, but he's surprised when the clemar man concedes a bit, and seems more understanding than he would've expected. Louis knows how Basilio and Fidelio voice their mild distaste, and it's through little barbs here and there that they pass between each other aimed at Louis. while Louis takes the entire thing with grace (there is some comfort about the way that some things stay the same, especially with it comes to those two), he knows that others will need to be resolved eventually. Junah and Eupha excuse themselves, both of them needing a moment away from the tension.
the first person other than Basilio and Fidelio to strike up conversation with Louis is Strohl. given Strohl's position as general, they find enough common ground to talk about military strategy, especially among the last few roaming humans. Heismay ends up chiming in, and the three of them have some semblance of a working conversation without Louis' brand of ugly honesty (though it does show up a few times when he tells Strohl blatantly that an attack from the rear would be most efficient, even if it would have the most causalities).
He's as brutal as ever. That's definitely Louis you brought back, Strohl remarks to Will after the conversation.
later that evening Basilio and Fidelio settle with Louis on the deck of the gauntlet runner to get some time with their old boss. many things have changed now, and it will take time for the three of them to heal from it. they're up there for quite some time – before long the sky is dark and the stars are above, with the camp fire the only source of warmth on a chilly night.
We left 'em for you, eh? Basilio says as he comes down the ladder and into the lounge. Figured you were next.
Don't let him stay out there for long. He'll listen to you, Fidelio says in passing. Hnh – probably. in reality it was less "listen," and more concede, but the distinction didn't need to be made.
Louis is at the rail, gazing out across the grassy expanse and to the wall of forest that hid the Eldan Sanctum within the depths of the trees. it looks rather dim at night, a few quiet sounds of nocturnal beasts beginning their hunts, and the insects singing in search of a mate. across his shoulders is a blanket that Fidelio had brought for him, though he wears it more like a military cape than something made for warmth. ]
Basilio has made a request of me – he'd like to battle. [ he says absently. ] Later, when we're settled, he says he "owes me a few punches." If it's blows that sooth him, I would not be one to refuse.
[ For the first few hours, at least, Will does not interfere.
It's important for Louis to learn to get along with the others, even if he himself makes it difficult to do so. Privately, Will considers it a small miracle that they did not erupt in full-fledged battle as soon as their former nemesis stepped foot on the gauntlet runner. Nearly all of them have bad histories with him to varying degrees, and Will understands that. Strohl would be well within his rights to never forgive the destruction of Halia; Fidelio and Basilio trusted and were betrayed by him in the worst of ways; Junah had to know him intimately and tolerate him longer than most, and in some corners of Euchronia, there are still rumors that they were more than friends. Even without shared histories, Hulkenberg and Eupha and Heismay still linger in corners of the runner, whispering to each other in low voices, distrustful even as they swear their faith in Will's optimism and trusting heart.
Even so, Will believes in forgiveness. He's never, not once, stopped believing in forgiveness.
Even in the last moments, when Louis had screamed his name and made one last, desperate gambit to claim him — even then, as Will brought down the sword of the King on the man whose neuroses threatened to consume the world, he'd believed in forgiveness.
Everyone says that Will hasn't changed at all, but the truth that he has changed. Just a tiny bit. As a king, Will is much more cautious now in expressing his own wishes, his own opinions; while he always does exactly what he wants to do, headstrong and impetuous as always, the truth is that he also wants the others to feel like they have the freedom to voice their own thoughts. It's a private relief to him that Strohl, as always, is the first to take his side, and talks about Louis as politely as he might have observed any other unusual thing, like a butterfly in the sand. It's a relief, too, when the Magnus brothers come around, finally setting aside the bitter spite of discarded former friends and confidantes and speaking with him again as they did in years past.
He'll listen to you, Fidelio says.
Will isn't so sure that that's the case. No more than anyone else, perhaps. But that's fine. Will has never asked Louis for anything more than to be someone else to him.
He comes up onto the deck, near-silent except for the way his light steps click against the patio that Neuras always keeps polished and protected against the elements. Comes to a stop by Louis's side, gazing out at the Eldan Sanctum with him. The night is breezy, and not too warm; the evening breeze makes Will's skin prickle a little.
But that's not a bad thing. It's nice to feel alive. ]
...I'd tell him not to hit your face, but it's probably better if I don't interfere.
[ Why not the face? Well, a variety of reasons, really: the people of Grand Trad will want to see Louis Guiabern at his most glorious; it'll look bad if it seems as though the king has mistreated him, even if they were famously political adversaries; Will himself likes Louis's famously perfect face. All sorts of things. But also: neither Louis nor Basilio are the kinds of men who like it when others interfere in their affairs. So Will won't take a side.
(It really is quite funny, the way Louis makes a plain linen tunic and a simple cotton blanket look like military adornments. Even at his most relaxed, the man has the bearing of a soldier.) ]
[ there wasn't a moment where he show weakness, and thus he had trained his body to perform at fluid type of confidence that could only come from muscle memory. it's simply the way that he holds himself, now. something in him has become so ingrained that he cannot faulter, even now.
Louis is not a man that is bad with people, perhaps less so when he became desperate to see his ideals through, but he had once inspired countless toward his vision of a new world. thus, Will's friends got a break from the tension, he knew when he needed to offer some reprieve from himself. for him, as well, while the Magnus brothers are familiar, the rest of Will's friends are not, and he is very much the outsider. to them, there's still much he has to prove.
Will steps beside him and Louis considers him. ]
I should ask you the same. You've resurrected your ideological nemesis and given him reign among your comrades. [ as easy as he says that, their views are not so different in theory, but in practice. ] My life has been guided by a single goal since I left this harrowed, ashen ground. That purpose has faltered, and I'm left adrift.
You understand that I do not regret my actions. That world I dreamed of is dead and gone, but I do not – cannot – regret reaching for it. I can offer none of your colleagues the apology they would otherwise deserve.
[ it's a scar, certainly, from a wound that had been torn open again and again and stitched haphazardly before healing, if it could be called that. ]
[ ...So you acknowledge that they deserve an apology? Will thinks, though he doesn't say it out loud. It's never been his style to be smarmy and smug, lording his philosophical victories over his fallen and former foes. Tempting, though. A part of him wants to see the expression that would cross Louis's features if Will was just that impudent to his face. There's something so indescribably intoxicating about the way he and Louis know each other only too well.
He watches Louis for a moment, taking in the slightly surly set of his lips in the starlight, and the glint of his unwavering gaze, as firm and unyielding and delusional as ever. ]
It's fine, Louis. I didn't bring you back to make you atone for what you've done. Nor did I think that you'd regret your decisions. You are the man that you are.
[ But he would feel that way, wouldn't he? Will muses, as he ponders Louis's somber profile some more. Faltered, left adrift. Will destroyed his dream, his vision, the guiding light by which he had made all of his decisions since he watched the sanctum, and his family, go up in flames. To some extent, Louis probably feels as though there's nothing left for him to live for, and Will bringing him back must seem like some grand, cruel gesture of revenge.
If it's that way, Will thinks, then there is something he can put Louis to doing, right this instant. ]
...I didn't bring you back to use you, either. But — if it'll help you feel better, I'll tell you something that the others don't know about yet.
[ Still smiling, Will tips his head slightly to one side — and how few other people have seen Will like this? The way the serene sweetness of his soothing smile turns sly in just the next moment, sly and cunning and dripping with a bloodlust, an eager anticipation for war that his father never had — ]
The Igniter Consortium Head is planning to assassinate me.
[ where Will's friends would jump in an instant, begin their planning, Louis takes it in stride. whenever someone is in power, there will always be someone looking to kill them, that so much is always true. ]
Oh? [ there's an inflection in his voice, one that sounds slightly entertained – then pleased, when he realizes what this means. ] A church loyalist, I'd expect. You don't seem like the type to keep the tyrannical rule of outdated religion within your midst, knowing the truth of the world. An elda, on the throne? They've been pissing themselves ever since you were crowned, I'd suspect.
[ elda to elda. ]
Their grapple for power is one of desperation. They are now as useless and obsolete as ever, as they've become astutely aware. Your friends would be better equipped to protect you, especially your loyal knight, why tell me?
[ while Louis had some idea, he wants to hear it from Will, himself.
leaning back against the rail, arms crossed over his chest, Louis looks about as relaxed as he gets. it's akin to what Will had seen when he first came into the man's company, cracking a corner smile at pranks of the Magnus brothers.
yes, in some sick way, he feels as if his death was justified. it was the world that he believed in, after all, one of harsh truths and survival of the fittest. if he had died reaching for that dream, then he had deserved that death. it was one of the reasons why he could not apologize, even if the apologies may have been deserved. but Louis was never good at subtle gestures that created smaller, lasting change. he was not good at forgiveness, at kindness, and community.
his language was that of upheaval, forcing change where it was not allowed before. there is, perhaps, room for both, and he would learn, even if he felt as useless as the ruins of the sanctum. ]
...Of all the members of the Sanctist council, I think that the Consortium Head is the least interested in Sanctism itself. What they care about, as far as I can tell, is power, and selling igniters.
[ Will shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest in imitation of Louis's own pose; unconsciously, he's a little cold in the night air, and he looks a lot more like he's holding himself to keep himself warm than the way Louis looks, calm and unbothered by the tone of their discussion. Still, the king continues: ]
Most people in your army took up working for Fidelio and Basilio after you disappeared, but there was a more... fervent contingent of your former supporters who have fallen into Sanctist hands and basically become radicals. They never accepted your loss at my hands, they hate me the way their God tells them to hate elda, and they will never accept me as their king. [ A slightly wry smile. He does think the bit about God is a little funny. ] The Consortium Head has supplied them with a supply of igniters that are equivalent to divine relics in power, and given them orders to execute me during my next public appearance.
[ At great expense to their business, no doubt. Will shrugs, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. ]
I found out about the plot because one friend of mine is very good at lying, and another friend is part of the consortium itself. The "liar" has already infiltrated their operation, and the "merchant" is trying to disrupt their igniter distribution route, but things like that are easier said than done.
[ Alonzo and Brigitta, of course. He'd had to stop Brigitta from going wild and razing some of the caravans outright; influential as she already is, she's not that powerful, and it would have been equivalent to her starting an all-out war against her boss. ]
Well... even if they're armed with a bunch of divine relics, I don't really think your former captains can stand against me in a fight. And I could do a lot of things, like, sure, sic Hulkenberg on them, or send Heismay to kill their leaders in the dead of the night. But they could still cause a lot of collateral damage as they're going down, and I don't want to put my "liar" in more danger than he's already in. So I've been thinking.
[ He turns his head slightly, hands wrapped around his thin elbows as he looks sidelong at Louis. ]
These men have no loyalty to the Consortium Head themselves. And they don't have much to fight for if Louis Guiabern returns and tells them to stand down. [ A slight pause. ] That is... if you want to be known by that name again.
[ these sorts of sneaky operations, the ones that require some level of political strategy to solve. Louis had seen it here and there, but now it's laid bare now that they're no longer pitting their wits against one another.
Louis continues without an answer to the question. ]
The weak willed make fools of themselves once again. Between the magla and the relics, all that's required for the possibility of a human emergence is the right mixture of their own petty grievances. Perhaps you are correct, the collateral damage could be devastating if this is allowed to fester.
[ if it were Louis, he would allow it to happen. perhaps he'd go so far as to add the right amount of whatever was needed to create that travesty to prove his own point. this is not up to him, though, and beyond satisfaction, there would be not much of a point to prove. (but oh, the satisfaction.)
in a single motion that could be considered gallant, he shrugs the blanket from his shoulders and drops it over Will's; it's still warm. ]
I'll need to don the guise of a clemar once again. Their former lord announcing himself and demanding they drop their arms without horns will cause the certain backfire you wish to avoid. You and I must take care now, the two of us could be seen as the true threat that we are, if we were so politically motivated.
Guiabern will do for now, it is still useful. The name has power behind it.
[ he tilts his head back, the bright line of his pale skin almost glowing against the skyline. there is something devilish about him when he's like this. ]
Contracting me means that you concede to my judgement. I may kill them if I see fit.
[ He is devilish like this, and Will is taking the devil's bargain. Oh, yes, he knows exactly what he's contracted, and that is what sets him apart from his father; Hythlodaeus V had the right heart, but never the bitter appetite needed to match his enemies in ruthlessness and keep them in check. Will has the steel against his soft heart to keep up with these things, though. Serene smile on his face, his hair bright as the moon as it gleams against the sun's last remnants of light. Here he sits, cutting a deal with Louis Charadrius. ]
Normally, I'd say you shouldn't, but... I think the fact that they've fallen in with the anti-elda Sanctists is proof that they never really understood your ideology at all. And we gave them a lot of other choices. [ They could have joined the Tradian Brigade; they were paying well, with decent lodgings and accommodations. They had a lot of other options besides the ones that led them to this. ] As far as I'm concerned, they're dangerous radicals. You can do what you want with them... within reason.
[ Wouldn't want to repeat the magic experiments, after all, and Will doesn't want anyone turning into humans, given the situation. Regardless, it's as much tacit consent as Louis is going to get out of an idealist like him. The king wraps the blanket around his shoulders calmly, accepting it, and the warmth from Louis's body, in turn. ]
I do want this to be a world where you don't have to pretend to be a clemar, one day. But... yeah. I was thinking as much. People will denounce it as some dirty elda trick of mine if you come back as anything less than what they knew you as.
[ With a small, furtive movement, Will repositions himself slightly, such that he's standing in front of Louis, against the guardrails of the runner. He wouldn't have done it before with everyone watching, even though these are his friends and most trusted advisors, people he has already trusted to guard his life. But, in the moment — elda to elda — there are still some things that Will never told his friends about Louis Charadrius, and —
He leans backward, pressing his small back and his silvery head against Louis's chest. He sighs. ]
...The horns are cute on you, anyway. Even if they're not real.
The hatred sowed by the church runs deep, and the elda have not been proactive in refuting the church's hellish rumors upon them. You and I bear the brunt of those decisions made over the last thousand years, and the differences between the tribes are easily exploited for power.
[ along with Hythlodaeus' and Forden's, but Louis always found them indicative of a deeper, more systemic problem. while the elda were not deserving of what happened to them, far, far from it, but locking themselves away along with the hidden history of the world did nothing but cause a greater downfall. there's some satisfaction in knowing the sanctum is returning to the ruins as it should, as if walking away from the past. Louis' resurrection means that Will, at least, was thinking more pragmatically about the future than his father ever did.
before he knows it, Will has already wiggled between him and the rail, and is offering a soft contact that he'd forgotten about in his madness. soft hair, and a soft expression from the young king as they gaze across the ruins of their former home.
Louis sighs, a momentary break in the thoughts of politics and consequences, as Wil leans into him. he did miss him, didn't he? its still rather unfathomable to him, though he supposes it's one of the reasons he so desperately wanted Will to join him.
Louis Charadrius doesn't sound bad, does it? ]
No one had ever asked of my birthright, only assumed. The differences, perhaps, so miniscule that a little glamour and no one cared to notice.
[ dark lashes fall over his eyes, half-lidded and softer. the warmth in his voice that had been gone so long seems to creep back into the edges. he confirms for Will, because he may as well hear it. while Louis may trap, ensnare, and use omission to fuel his own plots, he does not outright lie. ]
I will not turn these spineless fools to humans, if that's what you're asking of me. They don't deserve as much.
[ they will be reminded of the scum that they are, before either dying in the old world, or becoming part of the new one. ]
[ Louis neither accepts nor declines the contact from Will's small body, so the young king lingers, enjoying — as much as he can, given the circumstances, and the genuine bitterness that once characterized their relationship — their shared touch. Maybe it's only his own naïve conceit, but he wants to think that he can ground Louis like this. Keep him tethered here, to a fragile world that still has hope in it, instead of drifting off to the promise of a different world where love and fantasy would go to die. ]
Things have already changed a little, you know. Most of the Elda moved out of the Sanctum already. They still tend to travel in groups and keep to themselves, but...
[ Will pauses slightly. He's not actually used to being this chatty; he hasn't quite said this much all at once since his coronation. ]
It was something I wanted to encourage, myself. I don't think I can say that I'm an elda in the way that the people who were raised here are elda, but... I also didn't think it was right. To sequester themselves in the one place they were forced into hiding... that didn't seem, to me, the right way to live.
[ Thoughtfully, he gazes out at the eldan village, the place that he'd stayed for years as the "prince," and yet no longer quite remembers very clearly, on account of how many of those years were spent alone and away from others in a pain-induced haze from the curse. ]
And I remembered. That you'd wanted to leave. I think... I would have related to that. The desire to leave.
[ To a young Louis Charadrius, the promises that the soft-hearted scholar named More brought to the village must have seemed like heavensent miracles — and then, when the man failed to deliver on them, the hope he'd felt would have become intolerable. ]
[ it was that fated day when More handed him a copy of that book with precious words about utopia, that Louis would no longer be the same. for a while he looked up to the elder clemar that had come to the eldan sanctum, eagerly asking questions about the world outside the forest.
why – why did the elda lock themselves away? why did they allow the world to shroud itself in lies as they alone sat upon the truth? when More left, the church came with their warrior monks in the name of a cruel and bloody god, then burned everything to ash. the man that had spoke soft words about high ideals was no where, and suddenly it all felt like bile in Louis' mouth.
even after the fire and the loss, running away and hiding himself with glamour, Louis still kept that book. ]
The forest felt like a prison, and I clung to too tightly to the bars.
[ he'd never talked about this before – no, nor had he ever wanted to go back to this place, mentally or physically. it was a representation of everything he hated in this world, as well as everything he lost. it was easier to hate than lose. ]
Perhaps your world will be kinder to them, but they will have hardships nonetheless. Seclusion only feeds the lies, and those beyond the city will still feast, even when their king himself is elda. Yet there is the hard way and the easy way, and the hard way tends to foster strength.
[ Louis tilts his head, allowing Will to stay as close as he likes. that he's not turning him away seems to be his own form of affection and acceptance of the company. ]
The two of us are as elda as any other – raised in this damned place or not – those outside of it see no difference.
[ The answer comes near-instantly, without even a moment's hesitation. Maybe Will is only so fearless because he's never had to feel so weak, helpless in the face of a wall of flame; maybe he's fearless because he's looked into the flames and come away without burns. And yet, there's something beautiful about him all the same because of it. An elda, so unlike all other elda, in the way that they have allowed themselves to hide away their secrets and their histories and existence, in shame and hopelessness and fear.
Even Louis had succumbed, ultimately, to hopelessness and fear.
But Will doesn't treat him as though he did. He'd have every right to: Louis killed his father, Strohl's family (however indirectly), countless others, would have disposed of Fidelio and Basilio just as ruthlessly. Tried to kill him, many times, several times, even through different bodies, and different souls. And yet, at the end of all that's happened — what do they have to fight over, now? What reason does Will have, truly, to hate Louis, when their battle is over, and Will's ideals won the day?
Will leans back, rubs his head just slightly against Louis's chest. Like a cat, marking its territory with hidden scent. ]
[ there it is, bright as Will's eyes, that glorious ferocity. it's freer now, Will answering in an instant without hesitation, like something buried coming to the surface. Louis thinks he is beautiful when he's like this, fearless, balancing on the edge of a blade. he sought this part of Will in open battle, because he didn't know how to bring him again into his company.
Louis presses his fingers against Will's chin, tipping back his head until it's pressed against his chest, and he can look down at him. ]
Will we battle them all?
[ the world does not change quickly, and he's certain that despite Will's approval from the citizens of Euchronia, that the fanatics would certainly find means to take arms against an elda on the throne. the world may have been quelled, but there was still fear and anxiety within it. ]
Though I suppose none could live up to me.
[ it's less a matter of arrogance, and more one of fact. who else becomes so deluded in wanting to kill, that they become a human in the process? ]
[ There's a slightly lilting, teasing edge to Will's voice as he asks this: Are you worried about me, Louis? his tone implies. Not that he's displeased. But it is very funny to think that, after several mutual attempts to kill each other, Louis now confesses that it is a comfort that there is no one left to threaten the two of them united, at least not in a way that matters. Should Will take it as a confession that he cares?
He won't prod, because he knows well enough to know that Louis is a man who values his pride. But it's a good first step, Will thinks. If nothing else, perhaps it shows that Louis has let go of that mad ruthlessness which once characterized him as a candidate.
He looks up at Louis, pleasantly upside-down and still very pretty for it, blinking his big, watery blue eyes. His hair shines with starlight beneath the night sky, silvery-blue, like moonstone in the right lighting. ]
We'll battle them if they're foolish enough to attack.
[ He leans his cheek ever so slightly into the blond elda's hand, but he also seems content to hold himself where Louis has placed him. ]
A part of me hopes they do. A lot of people will find it very inspirational to see Louis Guiabern routing his enemies once again.
[ there is an odd sort of comfort, even a bit of gratification, in knowing that no one else has managed to be as good as him at trying to kill Will – in that same thought, no one has been as good as Will at trying to kill him. for now, there's no reason to kill one another, nor a reason to conflict. he was defeated in his quest for the crown, and that's all there was to it. it was, in some ways, inelegant in desperation, but it was required of him to fulfill his own ambitions. ]
Certainly, the king must keep his battle prowess honed.
[ Will says something about Louis, but Louis' mind is somewhere else. ]
You mustn't lose your edge, 'less the fools believe they can sniff out your weakness. I doubt that you have, have you? Or you wouldn't be here, seeking out the one that once challenged you.
[ Louis traces Will's cheek with his thumb. there is a surprising tenderness inside of him when the situation seems to call for it, something of which those close enough to him are aware of. ]
[ Will laughs a little, wild and carefree, the way he is when he's charging headfirst into battle without even a second thought. He likes this, Louis's surprising tenderness, and the thumb brushing smoothly over his round cheek; he even likes the way that Louis doesn't quite respond directly to anything that he said, as if his mad, mad mind is elsewhere, which it surely is. (Isn't it a terrible thing, to find a madman so charming? Even if he isn't quite so mad anymore?) ]
I do believe in strength. I needed strength to defeat my enemies, and I needed strength to take the throne. [ A breath; he closes his eyes. ] I still need more strength to protect it. To protect this country, and its people.
[ There's no more need now for Louis Guiabern to be the menace that will destroy Euchronia. No more need now for them to struggle against each other, or try to kill each other. Will has proven his strength, a thousand times over, both in blade and spirit. And Louis lost — but that doesn't mean he needs to be consigned to the annals of Euchronia's history as a footnote and nothing more.
Louis's hand feels warm against Will's face. Proof, if nothing else, that he really is alive.
Still with his eyes closed, the young king continues, in a tempting whisper: ]
Lend me your strength, Louis. Give yourself to me.
[ how their positions have switched: not long ago, it was Louis draping him over his desk, asking him to join him. there was always a boldness in Will that came out during their quarrels, or their secret trysts, that Louis found rather beautiful. now it's Will who brought him back, most likely despite some of the protests of his peers, and Will who implores him, as if it's a more of a personal wish than a political drive.
join me, is what he's saying. join me. ]
What would you have of me? A general, who punishes the enemies of the throne who seek to destroy an eldan king? Would you have me as your court archmage, as I had once been, or a personal body guard to stand by your side?
[ Louis isn't sure, himself, where he fits in anymore. Will has a kingdom, he has friends who support him, and certainly has appointed them to their own paths as his royal circle. with his ambitions having failed, and the world moving in a new direction, he doesn't know where he fits in it.
he's had such a difficult time finding a place in the old world, that he sought to make a new one. Will wishes to give him a pace in this new one so badly, but it's difficult to fathom.
regardless, being here with Will is soothing in its own right. it makes certain things seem possible, at least. ]
[ Will reaches up. Finds Louis's hand still pressed against his cheek. Takes it into his own, turning around slowly, so that they are each facing each other against the railing, and he has Louis's hand in his hand.
Their faces are close. If Will wanted, if he lifted his face a little, he could steal a kiss from Louis, of the sort that they once shared about the Charadrius, when neither Will's friends or Louis's followers were looking.
He lifts Louis's hand to his lips. Kisses the back of his hand, as if in humble supplication, but Louis of all people would know best that Will has never been humble in a way that matters. ]
I could have you as my consort.
[ His voice is low and serious and soft. As to not provide added pressure, Will keeps his eyes lowered, staring at Louis's bare knuckles — but, inexorably and inevitably, those big blue eyes slowly turn towards Louis's face, assessing the reaction, in his usual analytical way. ]
Louis is not a man who is ever at a loss for words, but for a moment there is a silence between them, because he's uncertain of what to say. certainly, the king has thought about it – what it means for Euchronia, and what it would mean for the two of them. politically it makes sense, it would solidify his allegiance and quell Louis' fanatics, sell a narrative that they were united in a better world. it would also soften Louis' policies of violence, while still keeping one of tolerance, while Will benefited from Louis' knowledge of the court.
it is ingenious in that bold way where Will leads with his imagination. it's hard to argue.
after gaping for a few seconds, Louis rearranges his expression into something that's less inelegant, and he almost wants to laugh. not because the subject is funny, but he can't help but think that Will has already thought about this. ]
You truly mean this.
[ though it begs the question of what Louis would be doing otherwise. ]
Of course I mean it. It would be the perfect solution to many of our troubles. And the solution to a few future ones, too.
[ Obviously, there are the reasons that Louis has himself highlighted in his head: the union of the nation's two most popular candidates for king would nigh-obliterate all other options in the public opinion. There would be a scandal to it, too — how could the young king marry his father's self-admitted killer? — but one which Will has carefully weighed and found to be the sort of scandal that can only benefit him.
Besides, Will already has a general and a court mage. And woe betide anyone who dares to suggest that Junah be replaced by Louis.
...Secretly, Will is also tired of receiving and rejecting marriage proposals from the various little-known princesses of Montario and Oceana. Louis has the backing, the influence, the purportedly noble background. Few could possibly protest his selection as royal consort, except perhaps on the grounds that he is a man. But whatever, Will figures. The church can seethe. ]
Besides... the people love stability, but they crave entertainment, too. I think they could use the levity of a royal wedding to lighten their days.
[ His tone softens slightly, to something that is almost conspiratorial: ]
[ a little scandal and liveliness is always good for the kingdom, after all. that built-up anxiety needs an outlet, and entertainment certainly offers that. there isn't much more entertaining than a royal wedding.
there may be a point about Will's heir, but the late Hythlodaeus already proved that with a little of the right kind of magic, that a democratic system could be put into place to choose a new ruler. Will was free to decide whether or not he had children, and those children were free to decide whether or not they wanted to pick up the mantel as ruler.
as much as he despised Hythlodaeus, he can admit that he did offer some freedom to his son, and to the country that Louis killed him for. ]
You say that so freely.
[ Louis can dance around it as much as he likes, but there is an underlying understanding that this is also what Will wants. it works well politically, but it's hardly just that, he knows that Will would not do something he truly did not want to, and no one could force him into an unsavory decision against his own principles and desires. they had been fleetingly together when the doors were closed, as if the world could not see what they were doing, ignoring the intimacy when they were at each other's throats. (or so Louis thought, but it wasn't that simple, was it?) he could ask to be sure, but he doesn't need to: there's no doubt in his mind.
Will is also asking for his companionship: most likely in travel, at court, and in a shared bed, now open for the kingdom to mull over their secrets. it's not something made from hard power without thought to the future passed a certain point.
there's a look of quiet contemplation that passes Louis' face, but he does not withdraw his hand. instead he traces Will's bottom lip with his thumb, as if going over the finer details that he does not voice, perhaps the things burrowed somewhere in his heart. ]
Allow me to consider this as I become part of this world once again.
[ it seems, at least, to have grounded him in a way, given him something to think about and linger on his mind as he makes plans as to what he may do next. ]
[ Will lowers his eyes again, nodding solemnly. It says enough to him that Louis has not rejected the idea outright; it says enough that he can still linger over the shape of Will's mouth as though fascinated by its shape, its softness. Even after all this time, all that genuine desperation and hatred, Louis must still, himself, feel that electric pull that brought him into Will's orbit, and which is now keeping him there.
King Wilhelm, wedded to Louis Guiabern. Both handsome, both beautiful, with powers beyond mortal reckoning. If the people could look past the man's crimes — if they could understand why Will would bear him no ill will, even despite killing his father — it would truly be a union for the ages.
They would all think that he married for power. Will alone would know the truth. ]
I understand. Take your time and think it through.
[ There's no pressure in it. This isn't about demanding an answer from Louis, after all, so much as it is about making mutual intentions known, and giving him something to think about, something to live for.
It's a slow thing, clearly telegraphed, but Will looks up, that dastardly bottom lip of his almost quivering with unspoken emotion. He leans forward; his lips touch Louis's, soft and telling. ]
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Given the opportunity, change does not come swiftly, but it will come violently if left unattended for long enough.
[ isn't that what he intended to do? some sort of violent upheaval. his resentment toward the church and even the populous was still inside him, remembering their indifference, cruelty and greed.
but that's enough of that, isn't it? there is work to be done, no matter how many feelings that he must sort through. his body is weak, and his mind still feels muted, and here he is, in this place he never thought he'd return to. ]
I've not dined here since I was a head less taller than you. This formerly hallowed village is still worse for the wear, I see.
[ he notices Will's blanket around his shoulders, and then with a grunt of displeasure, wraps it around his waist. it's for Will's friends, rather than himself, he doesn't care anymore about his nudity now that his heart is lodged in his chest and bare to the world. ]
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...More importantly, it does bring Will some amusement that Louis covers himself up of his own volition. So he is capable of some degree of consideration for Will's friends after all, is he?
Once the man has properly robed himself — and he looks more angelic than ever, with only that thin cloth wrapped round his waist for modesty — Will extends a hand as if to gallantly help Louis to his feet.
They can leave together, he means to say. As equals, and not as a king and his prisoner.
(Some of his friends will almost certainly treat Louis like a prisoner, though.) ]
Did you want to eat here, in the village? Things have changed since I took the throne... most of the villagers have left now.
[ Would Louis want to? He never spoke of the eldan village with much emotion other than disdain — but surely its loss would not have affected him so profoundly if he hadn't loved it in some way?
When he named his skyrunner the Charadrius, was it for his parents, or for himself? ]
...I was thinking we could eat on the runner. Basilio's gotten very good at using our kitchen, you know, and I think he'd be happy to cook for you again.
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The skyrunner would be preferable.
[ for a moment he looks at Will's hand, because it means more than just a hand to his feet. it's a loaded gesture, one that's quite the reminder that someone in this cruel world cared enough to want him back, no matter how much he hurt them. he's not sure what to do with that – it's like a thread in the tapestry had woven about savagery of this world, and the kindness that will, with one pull, unravel the whole thing. it makes him so uncomfortable, to have his identity exposed in that way, but it also stirs that dream he had so long ago. there may be more warmth in the world than just fire.
is he ready to leave this place, for real this time, just like he had wanted to back then?
after his consideration, he takes it, allowing Will to give him some support as he gets to his feet. ]
I'm sure that Basilio would like a word with me, after all. As the rest of your friends.
[ Will may not consider him a prisoner, but he knows he will be one until he either escapes or proves otherwise. it's going to be a long, uncomfortable, maddening road. ]
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Will gets him something simple to dress himself in, but no matter how common the clothes, he still manages to look like he belongs on a throne, evening sitting on the deck for a meal.
at first everything is tense, and he certainly feels like someone who's disrupted a family dinner. while it's uncomfortable, it's also kind of fun to him in its own way. Hulkenberg is by far the one most stirred by his presence, he notices her watching him from the corner of her eye, especially when he lingers around Will too long, or too close, for her comfort. Strohl is uncertain, and along with Fidelio and Basilio, Louis considers Strohl to have the most reason to dislike him, but he's surprised when the clemar man concedes a bit, and seems more understanding than he would've expected. Louis knows how Basilio and Fidelio voice their mild distaste, and it's through little barbs here and there that they pass between each other aimed at Louis. while Louis takes the entire thing with grace (there is some comfort about the way that some things stay the same, especially with it comes to those two), he knows that others will need to be resolved eventually. Junah and Eupha excuse themselves, both of them needing a moment away from the tension.
the first person other than Basilio and Fidelio to strike up conversation with Louis is Strohl. given Strohl's position as general, they find enough common ground to talk about military strategy, especially among the last few roaming humans. Heismay ends up chiming in, and the three of them have some semblance of a working conversation without Louis' brand of ugly honesty (though it does show up a few times when he tells Strohl blatantly that an attack from the rear would be most efficient, even if it would have the most causalities).
He's as brutal as ever. That's definitely Louis you brought back, Strohl remarks to Will after the conversation.
later that evening Basilio and Fidelio settle with Louis on the deck of the gauntlet runner to get some time with their old boss. many things have changed now, and it will take time for the three of them to heal from it. they're up there for quite some time – before long the sky is dark and the stars are above, with the camp fire the only source of warmth on a chilly night.
We left 'em for you, eh? Basilio says as he comes down the ladder and into the lounge. Figured you were next.
Don't let him stay out there for long. He'll listen to you, Fidelio says in passing. Hnh – probably. in reality it was less "listen," and more concede, but the distinction didn't need to be made.
Louis is at the rail, gazing out across the grassy expanse and to the wall of forest that hid the Eldan Sanctum within the depths of the trees. it looks rather dim at night, a few quiet sounds of nocturnal beasts beginning their hunts, and the insects singing in search of a mate. across his shoulders is a blanket that Fidelio had brought for him, though he wears it more like a military cape than something made for warmth. ]
Basilio has made a request of me – he'd like to battle. [ he says absently. ] Later, when we're settled, he says he "owes me a few punches." If it's blows that sooth him, I would not be one to refuse.
[ closure, perhaps. Basilio and Louis' way. ]
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It's important for Louis to learn to get along with the others, even if he himself makes it difficult to do so. Privately, Will considers it a small miracle that they did not erupt in full-fledged battle as soon as their former nemesis stepped foot on the gauntlet runner. Nearly all of them have bad histories with him to varying degrees, and Will understands that. Strohl would be well within his rights to never forgive the destruction of Halia; Fidelio and Basilio trusted and were betrayed by him in the worst of ways; Junah had to know him intimately and tolerate him longer than most, and in some corners of Euchronia, there are still rumors that they were more than friends. Even without shared histories, Hulkenberg and Eupha and Heismay still linger in corners of the runner, whispering to each other in low voices, distrustful even as they swear their faith in Will's optimism and trusting heart.
Even so, Will believes in forgiveness. He's never, not once, stopped believing in forgiveness.
Even in the last moments, when Louis had screamed his name and made one last, desperate gambit to claim him — even then, as Will brought down the sword of the King on the man whose neuroses threatened to consume the world, he'd believed in forgiveness.
Everyone says that Will hasn't changed at all, but the truth that he has changed. Just a tiny bit. As a king, Will is much more cautious now in expressing his own wishes, his own opinions; while he always does exactly what he wants to do, headstrong and impetuous as always, the truth is that he also wants the others to feel like they have the freedom to voice their own thoughts. It's a private relief to him that Strohl, as always, is the first to take his side, and talks about Louis as politely as he might have observed any other unusual thing, like a butterfly in the sand. It's a relief, too, when the Magnus brothers come around, finally setting aside the bitter spite of discarded former friends and confidantes and speaking with him again as they did in years past.
He'll listen to you, Fidelio says.
Will isn't so sure that that's the case. No more than anyone else, perhaps. But that's fine. Will has never asked Louis for anything more than to be someone else to him.
He comes up onto the deck, near-silent except for the way his light steps click against the patio that Neuras always keeps polished and protected against the elements. Comes to a stop by Louis's side, gazing out at the Eldan Sanctum with him. The night is breezy, and not too warm; the evening breeze makes Will's skin prickle a little.
But that's not a bad thing. It's nice to feel alive. ]
...I'd tell him not to hit your face, but it's probably better if I don't interfere.
[ Why not the face? Well, a variety of reasons, really: the people of Grand Trad will want to see Louis Guiabern at his most glorious; it'll look bad if it seems as though the king has mistreated him, even if they were famously political adversaries; Will himself likes Louis's famously perfect face. All sorts of things. But also: neither Louis nor Basilio are the kinds of men who like it when others interfere in their affairs. So Will won't take a side.
(It really is quite funny, the way Louis makes a plain linen tunic and a simple cotton blanket look like military adornments. Even at his most relaxed, the man has the bearing of a soldier.) ]
How do you feel?
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Louis is not a man that is bad with people, perhaps less so when he became desperate to see his ideals through, but he had once inspired countless toward his vision of a new world. thus, Will's friends got a break from the tension, he knew when he needed to offer some reprieve from himself. for him, as well, while the Magnus brothers are familiar, the rest of Will's friends are not, and he is very much the outsider. to them, there's still much he has to prove.
Will steps beside him and Louis considers him. ]
I should ask you the same. You've resurrected your ideological nemesis and given him reign among your comrades. [ as easy as he says that, their views are not so different in theory, but in practice. ] My life has been guided by a single goal since I left this harrowed, ashen ground. That purpose has faltered, and I'm left adrift.
You understand that I do not regret my actions. That world I dreamed of is dead and gone, but I do not – cannot – regret reaching for it. I can offer none of your colleagues the apology they would otherwise deserve.
[ it's a scar, certainly, from a wound that had been torn open again and again and stitched haphazardly before healing, if it could be called that. ]
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He watches Louis for a moment, taking in the slightly surly set of his lips in the starlight, and the glint of his unwavering gaze, as firm and unyielding and delusional as ever. ]
It's fine, Louis. I didn't bring you back to make you atone for what you've done. Nor did I think that you'd regret your decisions. You are the man that you are.
[ But he would feel that way, wouldn't he? Will muses, as he ponders Louis's somber profile some more. Faltered, left adrift. Will destroyed his dream, his vision, the guiding light by which he had made all of his decisions since he watched the sanctum, and his family, go up in flames. To some extent, Louis probably feels as though there's nothing left for him to live for, and Will bringing him back must seem like some grand, cruel gesture of revenge.
If it's that way, Will thinks, then there is something he can put Louis to doing, right this instant. ]
...I didn't bring you back to use you, either. But — if it'll help you feel better, I'll tell you something that the others don't know about yet.
[ Still smiling, Will tips his head slightly to one side — and how few other people have seen Will like this? The way the serene sweetness of his soothing smile turns sly in just the next moment, sly and cunning and dripping with a bloodlust, an eager anticipation for war that his father never had — ]
The Igniter Consortium Head is planning to assassinate me.
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Oh? [ there's an inflection in his voice, one that sounds slightly entertained – then pleased, when he realizes what this means. ] A church loyalist, I'd expect. You don't seem like the type to keep the tyrannical rule of outdated religion within your midst, knowing the truth of the world. An elda, on the throne? They've been pissing themselves ever since you were crowned, I'd suspect.
[ elda to elda. ]
Their grapple for power is one of desperation. They are now as useless and obsolete as ever, as they've become astutely aware. Your friends would be better equipped to protect you, especially your loyal knight, why tell me?
[ while Louis had some idea, he wants to hear it from Will, himself.
leaning back against the rail, arms crossed over his chest, Louis looks about as relaxed as he gets. it's akin to what Will had seen when he first came into the man's company, cracking a corner smile at pranks of the Magnus brothers.
yes, in some sick way, he feels as if his death was justified. it was the world that he believed in, after all, one of harsh truths and survival of the fittest. if he had died reaching for that dream, then he had deserved that death. it was one of the reasons why he could not apologize, even if the apologies may have been deserved. but Louis was never good at subtle gestures that created smaller, lasting change. he was not good at forgiveness, at kindness, and community.
his language was that of upheaval, forcing change where it was not allowed before. there is, perhaps, room for both, and he would learn, even if he felt as useless as the ruins of the sanctum. ]
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[ Will shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest in imitation of Louis's own pose; unconsciously, he's a little cold in the night air, and he looks a lot more like he's holding himself to keep himself warm than the way Louis looks, calm and unbothered by the tone of their discussion. Still, the king continues: ]
Most people in your army took up working for Fidelio and Basilio after you disappeared, but there was a more... fervent contingent of your former supporters who have fallen into Sanctist hands and basically become radicals. They never accepted your loss at my hands, they hate me the way their God tells them to hate elda, and they will never accept me as their king. [ A slightly wry smile. He does think the bit about God is a little funny. ] The Consortium Head has supplied them with a supply of igniters that are equivalent to divine relics in power, and given them orders to execute me during my next public appearance.
[ At great expense to their business, no doubt. Will shrugs, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. ]
I found out about the plot because one friend of mine is very good at lying, and another friend is part of the consortium itself. The "liar" has already infiltrated their operation, and the "merchant" is trying to disrupt their igniter distribution route, but things like that are easier said than done.
[ Alonzo and Brigitta, of course. He'd had to stop Brigitta from going wild and razing some of the caravans outright; influential as she already is, she's not that powerful, and it would have been equivalent to her starting an all-out war against her boss. ]
Well... even if they're armed with a bunch of divine relics, I don't really think your former captains can stand against me in a fight. And I could do a lot of things, like, sure, sic Hulkenberg on them, or send Heismay to kill their leaders in the dead of the night. But they could still cause a lot of collateral damage as they're going down, and I don't want to put my "liar" in more danger than he's already in. So I've been thinking.
[ He turns his head slightly, hands wrapped around his thin elbows as he looks sidelong at Louis. ]
These men have no loyalty to the Consortium Head themselves. And they don't have much to fight for if Louis Guiabern returns and tells them to stand down. [ A slight pause. ] That is... if you want to be known by that name again.
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[ these sorts of sneaky operations, the ones that require some level of political strategy to solve. Louis had seen it here and there, but now it's laid bare now that they're no longer pitting their wits against one another.
Louis continues without an answer to the question. ]
The weak willed make fools of themselves once again. Between the magla and the relics, all that's required for the possibility of a human emergence is the right mixture of their own petty grievances. Perhaps you are correct, the collateral damage could be devastating if this is allowed to fester.
[ if it were Louis, he would allow it to happen. perhaps he'd go so far as to add the right amount of whatever was needed to create that travesty to prove his own point. this is not up to him, though, and beyond satisfaction, there would be not much of a point to prove. (but oh, the satisfaction.)
in a single motion that could be considered gallant, he shrugs the blanket from his shoulders and drops it over Will's; it's still warm. ]
I'll need to don the guise of a clemar once again. Their former lord announcing himself and demanding they drop their arms without horns will cause the certain backfire you wish to avoid. You and I must take care now, the two of us could be seen as the true threat that we are, if we were so politically motivated.
Guiabern will do for now, it is still useful. The name has power behind it.
[ he tilts his head back, the bright line of his pale skin almost glowing against the skyline. there is something devilish about him when he's like this. ]
Contracting me means that you concede to my judgement. I may kill them if I see fit.
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Normally, I'd say you shouldn't, but... I think the fact that they've fallen in with the anti-elda Sanctists is proof that they never really understood your ideology at all. And we gave them a lot of other choices. [ They could have joined the Tradian Brigade; they were paying well, with decent lodgings and accommodations. They had a lot of other options besides the ones that led them to this. ] As far as I'm concerned, they're dangerous radicals. You can do what you want with them... within reason.
[ Wouldn't want to repeat the magic experiments, after all, and Will doesn't want anyone turning into humans, given the situation. Regardless, it's as much tacit consent as Louis is going to get out of an idealist like him. The king wraps the blanket around his shoulders calmly, accepting it, and the warmth from Louis's body, in turn. ]
I do want this to be a world where you don't have to pretend to be a clemar, one day. But... yeah. I was thinking as much. People will denounce it as some dirty elda trick of mine if you come back as anything less than what they knew you as.
[ With a small, furtive movement, Will repositions himself slightly, such that he's standing in front of Louis, against the guardrails of the runner. He wouldn't have done it before with everyone watching, even though these are his friends and most trusted advisors, people he has already trusted to guard his life. But, in the moment — elda to elda — there are still some things that Will never told his friends about Louis Charadrius, and —
He leans backward, pressing his small back and his silvery head against Louis's chest. He sighs. ]
...The horns are cute on you, anyway. Even if they're not real.
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The hatred sowed by the church runs deep, and the elda have not been proactive in refuting the church's hellish rumors upon them. You and I bear the brunt of those decisions made over the last thousand years, and the differences between the tribes are easily exploited for power.
[ along with Hythlodaeus' and Forden's, but Louis always found them indicative of a deeper, more systemic problem. while the elda were not deserving of what happened to them, far, far from it, but locking themselves away along with the hidden history of the world did nothing but cause a greater downfall. there's some satisfaction in knowing the sanctum is returning to the ruins as it should, as if walking away from the past. Louis' resurrection means that Will, at least, was thinking more pragmatically about the future than his father ever did.
before he knows it, Will has already wiggled between him and the rail, and is offering a soft contact that he'd forgotten about in his madness. soft hair, and a soft expression from the young king as they gaze across the ruins of their former home.
Louis sighs, a momentary break in the thoughts of politics and consequences, as Wil leans into him. he did miss him, didn't he? its still rather unfathomable to him, though he supposes it's one of the reasons he so desperately wanted Will to join him.
Louis Charadrius doesn't sound bad, does it? ]
No one had ever asked of my birthright, only assumed. The differences, perhaps, so miniscule that a little glamour and no one cared to notice.
[ dark lashes fall over his eyes, half-lidded and softer. the warmth in his voice that had been gone so long seems to creep back into the edges. he confirms for Will, because he may as well hear it. while Louis may trap, ensnare, and use omission to fuel his own plots, he does not outright lie. ]
I will not turn these spineless fools to humans, if that's what you're asking of me. They don't deserve as much.
[ they will be reminded of the scum that they are, before either dying in the old world, or becoming part of the new one. ]
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[ Louis neither accepts nor declines the contact from Will's small body, so the young king lingers, enjoying — as much as he can, given the circumstances, and the genuine bitterness that once characterized their relationship — their shared touch. Maybe it's only his own naïve conceit, but he wants to think that he can ground Louis like this. Keep him tethered here, to a fragile world that still has hope in it, instead of drifting off to the promise of a different world where love and fantasy would go to die. ]
Things have already changed a little, you know. Most of the Elda moved out of the Sanctum already. They still tend to travel in groups and keep to themselves, but...
[ Will pauses slightly. He's not actually used to being this chatty; he hasn't quite said this much all at once since his coronation. ]
It was something I wanted to encourage, myself. I don't think I can say that I'm an elda in the way that the people who were raised here are elda, but... I also didn't think it was right. To sequester themselves in the one place they were forced into hiding... that didn't seem, to me, the right way to live.
[ Thoughtfully, he gazes out at the eldan village, the place that he'd stayed for years as the "prince," and yet no longer quite remembers very clearly, on account of how many of those years were spent alone and away from others in a pain-induced haze from the curse. ]
And I remembered. That you'd wanted to leave. I think... I would have related to that. The desire to leave.
[ To a young Louis Charadrius, the promises that the soft-hearted scholar named More brought to the village must have seemed like heavensent miracles — and then, when the man failed to deliver on them, the hope he'd felt would have become intolerable. ]
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why – why did the elda lock themselves away? why did they allow the world to shroud itself in lies as they alone sat upon the truth? when More left, the church came with their warrior monks in the name of a cruel and bloody god, then burned everything to ash. the man that had spoke soft words about high ideals was no where, and suddenly it all felt like bile in Louis' mouth.
even after the fire and the loss, running away and hiding himself with glamour, Louis still kept that book. ]
The forest felt like a prison, and I clung to too tightly to the bars.
[ he'd never talked about this before – no, nor had he ever wanted to go back to this place, mentally or physically. it was a representation of everything he hated in this world, as well as everything he lost. it was easier to hate than lose. ]
Perhaps your world will be kinder to them, but they will have hardships nonetheless. Seclusion only feeds the lies, and those beyond the city will still feast, even when their king himself is elda. Yet there is the hard way and the easy way, and the hard way tends to foster strength.
[ Louis tilts his head, allowing Will to stay as close as he likes. that he's not turning him away seems to be his own form of affection and acceptance of the company. ]
The two of us are as elda as any other – raised in this damned place or not – those outside of it see no difference.
[ his voice gets a little quieter. ]
There will be more that come for you.
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[ The answer comes near-instantly, without even a moment's hesitation. Maybe Will is only so fearless because he's never had to feel so weak, helpless in the face of a wall of flame; maybe he's fearless because he's looked into the flames and come away without burns. And yet, there's something beautiful about him all the same because of it. An elda, so unlike all other elda, in the way that they have allowed themselves to hide away their secrets and their histories and existence, in shame and hopelessness and fear.
Even Louis had succumbed, ultimately, to hopelessness and fear.
But Will doesn't treat him as though he did. He'd have every right to: Louis killed his father, Strohl's family (however indirectly), countless others, would have disposed of Fidelio and Basilio just as ruthlessly. Tried to kill him, many times, several times, even through different bodies, and different souls. And yet, at the end of all that's happened — what do they have to fight over, now? What reason does Will have, truly, to hate Louis, when their battle is over, and Will's ideals won the day?
Will leans back, rubs his head just slightly against Louis's chest. Like a cat, marking its territory with hidden scent. ]
I have even less to fear with you by my side.
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Louis presses his fingers against Will's chin, tipping back his head until it's pressed against his chest, and he can look down at him. ]
Will we battle them all?
[ the world does not change quickly, and he's certain that despite Will's approval from the citizens of Euchronia, that the fanatics would certainly find means to take arms against an elda on the throne. the world may have been quelled, but there was still fear and anxiety within it. ]
Though I suppose none could live up to me.
[ it's less a matter of arrogance, and more one of fact. who else becomes so deluded in wanting to kill, that they become a human in the process? ]
That's some what of a comfort.
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[ There's a slightly lilting, teasing edge to Will's voice as he asks this: Are you worried about me, Louis? his tone implies. Not that he's displeased. But it is very funny to think that, after several mutual attempts to kill each other, Louis now confesses that it is a comfort that there is no one left to threaten the two of them united, at least not in a way that matters. Should Will take it as a confession that he cares?
He won't prod, because he knows well enough to know that Louis is a man who values his pride. But it's a good first step, Will thinks. If nothing else, perhaps it shows that Louis has let go of that mad ruthlessness which once characterized him as a candidate.
He looks up at Louis, pleasantly upside-down and still very pretty for it, blinking his big, watery blue eyes. His hair shines with starlight beneath the night sky, silvery-blue, like moonstone in the right lighting. ]
We'll battle them if they're foolish enough to attack.
[ He leans his cheek ever so slightly into the blond elda's hand, but he also seems content to hold himself where Louis has placed him. ]
A part of me hopes they do. A lot of people will find it very inspirational to see Louis Guiabern routing his enemies once again.
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Certainly, the king must keep his battle prowess honed.
[ Will says something about Louis, but Louis' mind is somewhere else. ]
You mustn't lose your edge, 'less the fools believe they can sniff out your weakness. I doubt that you have, have you? Or you wouldn't be here, seeking out the one that once challenged you.
[ Louis traces Will's cheek with his thumb. there is a surprising tenderness inside of him when the situation seems to call for it, something of which those close enough to him are aware of. ]
There's a part of you that believes in strength.
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I do believe in strength. I needed strength to defeat my enemies, and I needed strength to take the throne. [ A breath; he closes his eyes. ] I still need more strength to protect it. To protect this country, and its people.
[ There's no more need now for Louis Guiabern to be the menace that will destroy Euchronia. No more need now for them to struggle against each other, or try to kill each other. Will has proven his strength, a thousand times over, both in blade and spirit. And Louis lost — but that doesn't mean he needs to be consigned to the annals of Euchronia's history as a footnote and nothing more.
Louis's hand feels warm against Will's face. Proof, if nothing else, that he really is alive.
Still with his eyes closed, the young king continues, in a tempting whisper: ]
Lend me your strength, Louis. Give yourself to me.
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join me, is what he's saying. join me. ]
What would you have of me? A general, who punishes the enemies of the throne who seek to destroy an eldan king? Would you have me as your court archmage, as I had once been, or a personal body guard to stand by your side?
[ Louis isn't sure, himself, where he fits in anymore. Will has a kingdom, he has friends who support him, and certainly has appointed them to their own paths as his royal circle. with his ambitions having failed, and the world moving in a new direction, he doesn't know where he fits in it.
he's had such a difficult time finding a place in the old world, that he sought to make a new one. Will wishes to give him a pace in this new one so badly, but it's difficult to fathom.
regardless, being here with Will is soothing in its own right. it makes certain things seem possible, at least. ]
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Their faces are close. If Will wanted, if he lifted his face a little, he could steal a kiss from Louis, of the sort that they once shared about the Charadrius, when neither Will's friends or Louis's followers were looking.
He lifts Louis's hand to his lips. Kisses the back of his hand, as if in humble supplication, but Louis of all people would know best that Will has never been humble in a way that matters. ]
I could have you as my consort.
[ His voice is low and serious and soft. As to not provide added pressure, Will keeps his eyes lowered, staring at Louis's bare knuckles — but, inexorably and inevitably, those big blue eyes slowly turn towards Louis's face, assessing the reaction, in his usual analytical way. ]
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Louis is not a man who is ever at a loss for words, but for a moment there is a silence between them, because he's uncertain of what to say. certainly, the king has thought about it – what it means for Euchronia, and what it would mean for the two of them. politically it makes sense, it would solidify his allegiance and quell Louis' fanatics, sell a narrative that they were united in a better world. it would also soften Louis' policies of violence, while still keeping one of tolerance, while Will benefited from Louis' knowledge of the court.
it is ingenious in that bold way where Will leads with his imagination. it's hard to argue.
after gaping for a few seconds, Louis rearranges his expression into something that's less inelegant, and he almost wants to laugh. not because the subject is funny, but he can't help but think that Will has already thought about this. ]
You truly mean this.
[ though it begs the question of what Louis would be doing otherwise. ]
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[ Obviously, there are the reasons that Louis has himself highlighted in his head: the union of the nation's two most popular candidates for king would nigh-obliterate all other options in the public opinion. There would be a scandal to it, too — how could the young king marry his father's self-admitted killer? — but one which Will has carefully weighed and found to be the sort of scandal that can only benefit him.
Besides, Will already has a general and a court mage. And woe betide anyone who dares to suggest that Junah be replaced by Louis.
...Secretly, Will is also tired of receiving and rejecting marriage proposals from the various little-known princesses of Montario and Oceana. Louis has the backing, the influence, the purportedly noble background. Few could possibly protest his selection as royal consort, except perhaps on the grounds that he is a man. But whatever, Will figures. The church can seethe. ]
Besides... the people love stability, but they crave entertainment, too. I think they could use the levity of a royal wedding to lighten their days.
[ His tone softens slightly, to something that is almost conspiratorial: ]
You'll be beautiful.
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there may be a point about Will's heir, but the late Hythlodaeus already proved that with a little of the right kind of magic, that a democratic system could be put into place to choose a new ruler. Will was free to decide whether or not he had children, and those children were free to decide whether or not they wanted to pick up the mantel as ruler.
as much as he despised Hythlodaeus, he can admit that he did offer some freedom to his son, and to the country that Louis killed him for. ]
You say that so freely.
[ Louis can dance around it as much as he likes, but there is an underlying understanding that this is also what Will wants. it works well politically, but it's hardly just that, he knows that Will would not do something he truly did not want to, and no one could force him into an unsavory decision against his own principles and desires. they had been fleetingly together when the doors were closed, as if the world could not see what they were doing, ignoring the intimacy when they were at each other's throats. (or so Louis thought, but it wasn't that simple, was it?) he could ask to be sure, but he doesn't need to: there's no doubt in his mind.
Will is also asking for his companionship: most likely in travel, at court, and in a shared bed, now open for the kingdom to mull over their secrets. it's not something made from hard power without thought to the future passed a certain point.
there's a look of quiet contemplation that passes Louis' face, but he does not withdraw his hand. instead he traces Will's bottom lip with his thumb, as if going over the finer details that he does not voice, perhaps the things burrowed somewhere in his heart. ]
Allow me to consider this as I become part of this world once again.
[ it seems, at least, to have grounded him in a way, given him something to think about and linger on his mind as he makes plans as to what he may do next. ]
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King Wilhelm, wedded to Louis Guiabern. Both handsome, both beautiful, with powers beyond mortal reckoning. If the people could look past the man's crimes — if they could understand why Will would bear him no ill will, even despite killing his father — it would truly be a union for the ages.
They would all think that he married for power. Will alone would know the truth. ]
I understand. Take your time and think it through.
[ There's no pressure in it. This isn't about demanding an answer from Louis, after all, so much as it is about making mutual intentions known, and giving him something to think about, something to live for.
It's a slow thing, clearly telegraphed, but Will looks up, that dastardly bottom lip of his almost quivering with unspoken emotion. He leans forward; his lips touch Louis's, soft and telling. ]
...Let's just enjoy the breeze for now.
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