“Born Free” (Finn)

[Arvælyn]

“Born Free”

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The Presence Chamber
Palatium Umbrarum, Umbrium
5 Frost 124 Steel[/size]

“Your Exalted Highness.” The advocatus bowed, as the elven prisoners were led into the presence chamber behind him.

“I submit to your authority the living members of the main branch of Gens Orsinus. Lord Gallus, paterfamilias of that house, and his brothers have been found guilty of dabbling in unsanctioned magicks and making obeisance to foreign gods in the interest of accruing the fell power associated with the forbidden state of Lichdom. As a direct offence to the Gods and Crown of the Umbrium, the magistrate has sentenced them to the Law of the Lamb. Their fate has been placed in the hands of the Exalted Gens of Sol’Zalkyrian.”

Seated on his father’s throne, Arvælyn looked down on the prisoners grimly, a scowl upon his countenance as burning eyes sought out Lord Gallus.

“Wherefore would you embark upon such a pursuit, Gallus?” The prince inquired, ice in his voice despite the fire in his eyes.

“It was in the interest of pursuing the Sacrement of Ambition and seeking to answer my Holy Hunger for Power, Your Exalted Highness… since the rise of your dynasty, the fortunes of Gens Orisinus have fallen. We thought ourselves wise to pledge to the Draconic Crown, believing your ancient father would return us to the Old Ways forgotten by Thalya and her kin. Instead, you have elevated a human to an unnatural rank, spat upon our oldest traditions and let the northern sympathies of your rearing infect your regency. With how wantonly Your Highness flaunts our ways, I felt emboldened to pursue a proscribed path myself. I wished to harness the power of my ancestors of note and rise to surpass them in the esteem of generations to come.”

“And, in so doing, you have put all the generations of your line at risk. You do not sound remorseful. You know the undead are profane in the sight of the Platinum Dynasty…” Arvælyn’s gaze turned to the advocatus,

“The Magister has marked them irredeemable?”

“Lord Gallus has exceeded mere mastery of the Rune of Mesmer and his brothers are masters in their own right. The College of Compliance is not like to permanently repair that which is broken in them. The risk of recidivism is great. The entire family is yours to condemn.”

“Might the children be redeemed?”

“Aye, Highness. The Collegio has a strong history of converting the children of the condemned into ardent opponents of their family’s prior crimes.”

“Very well. Lord Gallus, I revoke your place as head of House Orsinus, which will henceforth be held by your cousin Lavrian as the cadet house of Patrios-Orsinus becomes the main branch. Your children will be removed, redeemed and educated to serve the Sentinel Order, as your family is clearly built of strong magical stock. Your direct lineage will be forbidden from holding positions in the senate unto the 5th generation. As for you…” Arvælyn rose and gestured for the children to be removed. He ignored their cries as he slowly descended the steps of his daïs. Veiled Vigils tore the children from their parents and dragged them across the floor of the massive chamber.

Lord Gallus set his jaw, and stared off behind the Crown Prince, evasive of his eyes.

“Have you further calumnies to utter ere I render your judgement?”

“I brook your justice, but bid you take heed: There is much Solunarium might brook from a scion of both the Founders and the Zalkyrians, but to take a northern, human peasant in a marriage that will never produce offspring flouts our ways to such an extent as to baffle the mind of any true-hearted Solunarian. What I did was done in the spirit of the Golden Path and I will not be the last opponent to your mercurial whims. Be assured: I am not alone in discontent.”

Arvælyn’s eyes glowed a bit brighter as black smoke began to waft forth from his nostrils,

“Then neither shall you be alone in being rendered down to ash. Pro Deus et Domina.” The cold delivery was punctuated by the blazing heat of Zalyrian starfire as a beam of white hot fire disintegrated the whilom lord’s head. The screams of his relations underscored the act, until a turn of the prince’s head silenced them as their upper bodies were cremated in a matter of seconds. Their lower halves tumbled to the tile, as the advocatus winced against the heat. With the shrieks silenced, Arvælyn clamped his mouth shut and whipped around, his cape flowing behind him between his wings as he stalked back up the daïs.

“Clean that up before my next audience.” He instructed the chamberlain.

“If it please Your Exalted Highness, your next audience is with Sentinel Phocion.”

“Ah, then he needn’t wait. Send him in.”

The chamberlain nodded to the crimson-armoured guards manning the doors far opposite the throne, and they opened to reveal the black-clad Phocion, who marched forth without a pause until he reached the remains of the prior visitors. A few paces from that grim debris, he paused to bow.

“Sentinel.” Arvælyn addressed him, tacitly granting permission for the sentinel to speak.

“I hope I bring happier tidings than they, so let me lead with the happiest: I have recalled Finn to Solunarium for a meeting Custodes Deorum later this afternoon. I believe he has kept the evening free for a visit with Your Highness.” Phocion reported, keeping his eyes on the throne and completely neglecting the Kinetic clean-up crew disposing of the elder generations of Gens Orsinus.

Arvælyn’s eyes lit up, literally.

“I shall clear my evening!” He beamed.

[Finn]

The drier air of Atraxia had felt luxurious after months of what he had dubbed 'swamp ass' in Drathera, although the Prædium, at least, was comfortable. He couldn't only invite people to enjoy his—and, by extension, Solunarium's—hospitality, however; his work required outreach.

Finn was glad to be home, albeit briefly. Somewhere along the way, he had become a desert creature, perhaps by some alchemy of Hilana's desert teachings, the training of the Vigilia Argenti, the love of their solar deity, and the importation of his family. In the end, however, Arvælyn was here, and home was where the heart was.

He had come the night previous as soon as he had tied up what needed doing, knowing he could sneak in some personal time between the exigencies of Custodes Deorum and all. Some of his entourage had returned with him: Ramses to seek out Vrædyn, no doubt; Lystreia to shore up her social life and perhaps play a gig; Arkænyn to seek out Raithen, perhaps. Finn had slept in his parents' modest home, and Syrena was brought over for breakfast.

Then he reported to Phocion; then, endless meetings. He intended to return to Ecith by way of the Citadel so he could carve out a bit more time for his family—even Ciarán had given up the nightlife of the Umbrium to sleep under the same roof as his brother for a night—but he needed to see his beloved's face, to hold him in his arms, to smell the particular bouquet of him.

Phocion had gone ahead, bidding him bide his time, and so Finn cooled his heels, awaiting word that he might enter His Exalted Highness' presence. He sang silent litanies to himself, reminding himself that he would have to comport himself respectably if other eyes were upon him for their reunion, even if all he wanted to do was scoop his dragon-winged prince up in his arms and vault them into a storage closet in the Velvet Cabaret to lounge upon rolled up rugs and ornate pillows, sharing a bottle of wine and each other's bodies, and thoughts, and words, and...

The skirl of melody alerted him before the door opened. So many people were heavily warded against his Command, he had to rely upon his eyes most of the time. Whether servus or princeps, he was alert and ready to adapt to the change in situation and company.

[Arvælyn]

News of Finn’s arrival had shifted the dark tone that had begun Arvælyn’s day. With the execution of Lex Agni behind him, he was able to focus on the happier meeting to come later that evening. As such, the day dragged. Stuck in the doldrums of quotidian politics, his mind was hours ahead of him and when he had a moment to himself he pondered how best to spend it and saw to it that all was related to the staff to see things prepared.

When the moment finally came after the sun set on the realm above, he returned to the royal apartments of the palace to Finn as he sought him— alone.

“I might have known you were here before Phocion told me, if not for those bloody Sentinel wards… I can still feel your Symphony even in distant Drathera sometimes.” Perhaps this was a symptom of their associated Emblems or perhaps it was the extent of the prince’s Grandmastery that traversed so great a distance to mingle with Finn’s soul in absentia.

He marched apace to Finn and opened his arms to embrace the human at length, kissing him deeply as his wings enfolded them in shadow. They parted and folded at his back as the moment passed.

“You look well. His Æternal Radiance is surely pleased with your endeavours to expand His domain. I’ve little doubt She of the Scourge is no less approving, albeit not so overtly as He is wont to be… but we needn’t get into that. How are you?” He’d been getting reports on the mission’s progress regularly at meetings of the Draconic Council. He’d have been happy to speak with Finn himself on the matter if it pleased his amatus to do so, but he was more interested for the moment in Finn’s spirits.

“Do you thirst? Hunger? I saw to any number of options to be at the ready depending on what might strike your fancy.” For so brief a visit, it had seemed essential to overprepare and make sure the evening would be memorable.

[Finn]

Within Arvælyn's embrace, arms and wings, Finn reached out with his aether to bypass the wards on his clothes to mingle his melodies with his maritus'. Then he felt complete, and only then did they emerge from their embrace, still holding close. He looked intently at Arvælyn as though making sure nothing had changed thereupon from his memory. His smile twisted a bit into more of a smirk.

"The dragon reaches far for his favorite bauble?"

As for Aværys, "No great hand has parted the clouds to spank me, so I suppose He is content with my efforts so far." He did feel a quirk of something for having his beloved Tethered imply Varvara too was pleased. Finn was a creature of Her brother, but They were twins and he wanted to please her as well as that would add to Her brother's pleasure.

Someday, he would ask Vrædyn if he also felt that strange sense of rightness when working hand-in-hand with a Tethered. He was paired with Arvælyn and together they were changing a large swath of the world. Once he had figured out how to work with Phocion, that partnership too had proven fruitful.

"I hate being parted with you," he said, and that was certainly true give his body language, arms still around Arvælyn's waist and hips flush with his dragon prince's. "But... there is consolation in being one of the people making change. I spent so much energy trying to fit into a Solunarian mold, now I am encouraged to be myself, as if even the parts of me that have trouble conforming to Solunarian norms are good and... useful. You have given me so much, I figure giving you half a continent should keep us even." His smirk lacked the sharpness of Arvælyn's previous lover's, but he did seem more confident in who he was even without the anonymity of the veil or preparing himself for a social obligation and the role he must play such that his light only served to illumine Arvælyn.

"Some changes I likely won't live to see, but there are enough similarities to start building bridges... between the senates, for example. If I ever take up my seat in the Solunarian consilium, they will be surprised that I have cut my teeth—tusks—already in a similar institution." He was actually going to set Ciarán up with a babysitter to sit with him through meetings of the Senate as a silent observer for their new gens. Whether he ever gave what imperium he now held in his own right over to his brother or not depended on how his political education went. He would just have to make a few adjustments in his symphony to prevent him from saying anything he oughtn't.

A few years ago, the thought of doing that would have made Finn ill.

Now...

"Aye, let's sup lightly in preparation for amorous athletics." He grinned. "If you want fuller reports than I send with such loving regularity, well, that will make it easier to draw those lascivious sports out to a more intense conclusion..." He kissed Arvælyn quickly, for the barest moment holding his lower lip between his teeth. Finn didn't bite down lest he become supper then and there, but he turned, slinging an arm around Arvælyn's shoulders with all the familiarity he could muster. Nobody could fault him for such behavior in the privacy of their chambers.

[Arvælyn]

“Thou’rt the very pinnacle of the trove…” Arvælyn offered in a surprisingly sound impression of Aværys. He’d have given a far more authentic portrayal if he had to reprise his role in Aværys Æternal today than he’d given years ago in Kalzasi.

He wrinkled his nose at the image Finn invoked of being subject to divine discipline that might be interpreted as erotic, but he did not speak on it. Ploughing contentedly on to the warmer sentiments pertinent to himself that followed.

“They had to be harder on us, I think, to help us adapt. Breaking the rules knowingly is a far different matter than ignorance. We could never hope to help this realm evolve if we didn’t understand from what it would be altering. I think you know the culture well enough that mum and her tacticians trust you to dip back into your natural state and trust that you’ll be able to modify your behaviour when formality demands as much.

“Besides, I think it’s good for you to flex your Majestic muscles somewhere outside of the prime pyramid. I know you struggle with the ambiguity of your place thereupon…” The prince trailed off.

“Oh, I am well aware that I’ve taken as much or more than I’ve given. Comforts aren’t everything.” He offered earnestly, but not self-deprecatingly. He spoke as if the arrangement was a foregone conclusion over which he had no control.

“Appetizers followed by amorous athletics. Got it.” He said, glancing my askance of Finn to wordlessly impart orders to the servi waiting in the corridor outside. It wouldn’t take them long to collect the platters of breads, oils, cheeses, fruits and cured meats that had been arranged and help on standby until Finn’s preferences were made clear. The wine, Arvælyn would pour himself, though his hands remained fixed upon Finn’s person. Goblets hovered over to wait for grips to grasp their stems.

“Yes, busy yourself with reports when you are away from me. This eve is for pleasure.”

[Finn]

"And thou'rt the very pink of courtesy," he replied in kind. While not an actor, he had spent enough time with them—and this one in particular—that sometimes he could fake it when he found the music of a line and truly internalized it.

"You are most likely correct, O Wise Exalted Highness of my Heart."

Finn was only gently mocking; he wanted his husband to own his power, to embody his Power, but he didn't want him to sacrifice the perspectives he had earned through fate, fortune, and hard living, either. He loved all of Arvælyn, from the starving waif in Antiris to the majestic creature he couldn't let go of just now.

His melody slithered gently through the symphonies of the nearby servi and they moved into action. He had figured out how to be 'loud' with it such that the men and women who served could sense that it was a magical suggestion and choose to act or not act upon it. It just felt more correct to him, much akin to making verbal requests without playing them like meat puppets.

"I half-hoped to find you naked and wanton on the bed, but this is nice too." He grinned, his half-hope sincere, but was galvanized by another part of his anatomy than his brain. In actuality, he was content just to be there, close, touching, no matter what happened. He had read wedding vows from various cultures in history both for musical inspiration and before their own wedding; some indicated a believe that a marriage made one soul of two. He didn't believe that, but he did like the idea that there was some precedent for their pairing in the Gods who claimed them, and that their carefully honed gifts of Command allowed for a reciprocal exchange of self or soul or whatever one might call it, while still remaining themselves.

Finn plucked his own wine from out of the air, offering a kiss by way of thanks. He didn't let go of Arvælyn either, and eventually they made their repose among the cushions where the food was soon laid out.

"I'm going to have to learn to play an instrument with my toes so I can underscore our time together without losing the privilege of having my hands upon you. Or perhaps I ought to have learned Kinetics instead of Negation for that effect. Hm..."

He was half-joking, but took a ruminative sip of wine and glanced sidelong at his dragon prince.

"How have you been?" he asked, his tone and his symphony indicating he was more curious about the heart and mind and body of his man than the details of his day, although he had proven many a time that he was happy to listen, to let Arvælyn loose a flood of minutiae just to exorcise them from his mind for a while.

[Arvælyn]

“Perhaps you ought have…” Arvælyn replied, half to the notion of Finn’s taking a Rune of Kinetics and half to the notion of his own nakedness. For emphasis, he began to undress both of them simultaneously without lifting a finger, but to shift the odd appendage to ease the disrobing process.

“I have been fine.” He answered, rearing back a bit to look Finn properly in the eye.

“Putting out some fires and…” His mind travelled back to his morning execution, “…igniting others. I am growing more accustomed to my place. I think I’ve had to adapt to spare my mind. I have a better idea of what is truly urgent and what can wait. So many people come before me with desperation crying out in their Symphonies. It took learning to recognise that their interpretations were rarely holistic. I would get lost in their perspective and think I couldn’t rest until the issue was addressed. But often those things can wait, and often it doesn’t truly matter to the realm if they come to pass. It is the natural rise and fall of life and society.” He halted his telekinetic disrobing at the undergarments as to preserve some semblance of their modesty before the now approaching servants, who entered to lay out the refreshments he’d ordered.

Unlike Finn, Arvælyn was perfectly comfortable letting his Rune Command in no uncertain or ambiguous terms. ‘I was not born to sue, but to Command’ as Aværys uttered as chronicled in His Radiant scripture.

The servi did not linger after laying the spread immaculately. That had been part of their unuttered orders, as well. So, soon the couple was alone once more.

[Finn]

"I love that word, fine," he said quietly, in a strange humor. "Covers all manner of sins, doesn't it?"

His hand came up to cup the royal face, eyes seeking the softer places within Arvælyn's eyes to assure himself they hadn't gone up in dragonfire. He didn't know what he was reacting to, really. His melodies hadn't gone seeking in his husband's symphony. Perhaps it was plain human intuition that told him something of moment had happened, but he was also coping with his own fears, rational or irrational, that Arvælyn's core character might alchemize in his absence into someone who looked like the man he loved but was categorically different.

Whatever he saw there, he smiled. He leaned in for another kiss. Then he smirked as his clothes started coming off as if of their own accord.

"You are acting regent until and unless your father decides to make an appearance," Finn reminded him. "It is only natural you would want to handle everything all at once lest small fires become conflagrations. I would say you have risen to the challenge and without a youthful education in statecraft." It was as if they had thrown Arvælyn into the fire to see whether he was fine metal or dross. But his ability or inability to rule a nation had little to do with why Finn loved him.

Finn looked at himself with the same searching eyes sometimes. The voice he had trained to urge empathy from his audience was now tailored to Command. The hands that had toiled to pluck beauty out of the air were now trained to kill. These weren't evil things in themselves; they were monumental changes in who he was, however.

He took up a piece of something he knew Arvælyn favored and held it up. If Arvælyn didn't feel like being fed, Finn would just eat it himself.

[Arvælyn]

“For all the burdens of my station, I do have the privilege of being above many sins of the Faith.” Arvælyn observed. In a religion that prioritised knowing one’s place in a hierarchy, it was indeed beneficial to be toward the top thereof. He was more often one sinner against than sinning.

The morning has not been such an aberration from the prince’s norm as to have any marked bearing on the present state of his Symphony. Death was a part of life in Solunarium, and dealing it out was part of his duty and his religion. If the Orsinus incident was remarkable it was only insofar as the subjects of his sentence were of a senatorial family. That was, indeed, unusual. Still, it wasn’t as though Arvælyn had any relationship with the fallen family. In their apparent disapproval, they’d made no strides to befriend him and their dissenting voice would be no great loss to the senate in his fiery eyes.

“I am an actor playing a role. Much have I rehearsed and immersed myself in this character, directed by the elders of my Gens. It’s only now that the costume is starting to feel natural…” He added, with a twitch of the wings.

“Mm…” He parted his lips to welcome the morsel of salted meat Finn proffered and tipped his head back, swallowing it down in only a few bites. The gesture looked avian or reptialian, one might think, as the bite was gulped down his long throat.

“Do you ever feel that way? As if you’re playing a role for the sake of others? For me?” That afterthought brought a crease to his brow and a grimace to his lips.

[Finn]

"Phocion loved your Aværys so much he invited you here to play a similar role," Finn said, grinning.

If the way Arvælyn ate when at his leisure gave him pause, there was no sign of it on his face or in his symphony. Perhaps he even thought, my adorable little predator. Who knew? Finn was strange like that.

"For others, yes. For you, not exactly..." He considered. "Well, I play all those roles for you. How I comport myself as your husband, as a Sentinel, even as a Radiant—that all reflects back upon you. I hear it in echoes of symphonies: they have the temerity to question my credentials as an Empyreal Lord, as if their God Himself didn't elect me before any of them. Well, save Vrædyn, and he has always treated me better than most. When we are alone together, or even mostly alone together, I sometimes have to decide which role you need me to play. They are all me, all Finn, but whether you need your husband to be a listener, someone to argue with who won't shy away from hard truths, or just... well, I do enjoy when you want me to play seductive bard..."

He grinned again.

"Playing different parts of myself more than others when you need me to doesn't feel like a burden or like I'm not... myself. Other roles have been more difficult. But I have told you all that before... Learning to accept the harsh realities of the desert, the difficult truth of life in Solunarium. Sometimes it has been difficult to be a Sentinel, to be hard when my heart tells me to be soft. But that is the duty. I sacrifice myself to Varvara, too. But I have you to remind me why I do the challenging things as well as the easy ones, and I have my family here, adapting to a new life in a new place. You and Solunarium have allowed me to be more than I was before."

He paused, considering again. He might have been distracted by Arvælyn's lips just a bit.

"Does that make sense?"

Sometimes he asked that, not because he thought Arvælyn too slow to follow, but wondering whether he was articulating clearly what he rarely articulated.