Fandom The Dragon Prince: New Era {closed!}

[Asteria]

There was a slight disturbance in the still darkness of the chamber and the quiet solitude that accompanied it. It did not come as a surprise – it had been sensed long before, a small thug at the string of fate, a stubborn knot that would not dare untangle itself. It was not a hindrance, no, never, but perhaps an opportunity. Whether it represented an opportunity for chaos or for a steady equilibrium, that remained to be seen.

The door creaked open, enough to allow the expected guest to pass through. Not much could be seen in the chamber: a mirror facing a table and a chair, and some items scattered across the surface of the table. There were many more on the floor, along a candlestick and hardened wax. One’s temper was, at times, the worst of enemies.

A faint hum and a flicker, yet the change would remain unnoticeable to the untrained eye. The reflection in the mirror became momentarily distorted, before settling into an identical and reversed representation of its surroundings.

On the other side, the figure simply watched, mischievously curious as it was.


“All hail the king!”

“All hail the king!”

Viren had heard those words before. Harrow’s coronation seemed a distant memory now, but he could vividly recall the fondness with which Harrow had clapped him on the shoulder that day before stepping into an ode of applause, as well as his unexpected request to join him in the portrait. The warmth he emanated then. The unfaltering trust he had in his friend. Friend. King Harrow would have been nothing without his loyal advisor, and yet he had made him kneel at his feet, right here, right in this chamber, as if he was nothing more than a disobedient subject.

“All hail the king!”

It was betrayal, his presence here. This chamber had belonged to Harrow’s mother and father and then to him and Sarai, only to one day become their son’s refuge – the heir to the crown of Katolis, the rightful king. But it was now Viren who resided among these four walls. He sat on the throne of the rightful king. He wore his crown with pride, not shame.

Until now, he hadn’t dared to remove it, afraid it might be taken away or vanish before his eyes. Yet, hidden and unwatched, he held it in his grip, his reflection staring back at him from upon the polished gold.

It did not feel like a betrayal, none of it. His actions were necessary in the pursuit of his righteous cause.

“Put it back on,” the familiar voice murmured, low and harsh, into his ear.

But, this time, it wasn’t just the voice. A chill ran down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck rising up as to announce an upcoming danger.

Viren knew very well what the danger was or, better said, who it was. He turned around, instinctively, and ended up facing a star, black at heart and white around the edges. When he looked up, his frown was met with a playful twinkle in a pair of golden eyes and a tight grin.

Aaravos.

He no longer was a whispering voice into his ear. Well, he was that still – a voice coming from a caterpillar creeping up his ear, but now, wherever he went, he could also attach a face to that persistent sound. As Aaravos showed no sign of wanting to create any sort of distance between the two of them, Viren was the one to take three steps back and away from him.

And the crown was placed back on his head, where it belonged.

“Did I interrupt anything?”

Viren didn’t humour him. If he appeared to be defensive or if he denied his assumptions, Aaravos wouldn’t let it go. “What is it?”

The apparition chuckled lightly. “Ah, such a cold and distant tone still. I thought we have moved past that phase. Oh well. You have a visitor.”

“Do I?” The present tense seemed… off.

“Yes.” Aaravos seemed content at the thought. “Right now, as we’re standing here and entertain each other, you have a guest waiting. Somewhere else, of course. This room seems a little too intimate.”

There it was. Viren appeared to not trust his words for a moment, only to overcome his own doubt and become disoriented in turn. “Where?”

“Your dark little room. You call it a study, but I would disagree–”

The confusion was replaced by worry. “Can they see you?”

Aaravos shook his head. “No. Not yet, anyway.”

Viren didn’t know whether to take his words as a threat or a promise. He stood still for a moment more before heading for the door, Aaravos calmly following him out. Twists and turns, and two sets of stairs – the door to his study came into sight. While Viren didn’t show it, Aaravos must have sensed the tension, for his next words held the tone of advice:

“Easy.”

And that he would be – calm and poised, and unperturbed as he opened the door and stepped inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Nashreen Sharma was the first to reach the top of the hill that overlooked Katolis and the valley that lay at its feet – she pulled at the reins, her stallion slowing down into a light trot before stopping completely. The other riders followed her movements as a barked order cut through the air: “Halt!” They too slowed down, stopping slightly farther from her position. Kiaan, the Captain of the Queen's guard, was the only one that approached Nashreen, and he did so quietly.

They were looking at the same sight. Katolis’ gates were flanked by hundreds, if not thousands of tents, their surroundings bustling: soldiers, horses, carts, all moving around in a somewhat orderly manner.

The prince’s words proved to be true. Three nations had gathered around Katolis and they would be willing to go against the largest and strongest kingdom in order to reach Xadia in their pursuit of revenge. Though, that might be unnecessary, considering the latest news: Katolis had a new king, a new ruling family.

Nashreen didn’t know if she could meet the former king, Ezran, or if he was still in Katolis. She didn’t know what the new one was capable of. Much was uncertain and, while her role was to dispel that uncertainty for Aanya, and therefore for their home, for Duren, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. And she was already outnumbered, that much was clear. She had brought with her only ten riders from Duren, of which half were part of the Queen’s guard.

Flags fluttered in the wind. She could distinguish them from one another, despite the distance: the elephant of Neolandia at the middle, the dragon of Del Bar and the dragonfly of Evenere at its sides. Katolis’ flag rose from the stronghold, tall and intimidating. Duren’s was now present as well, atop the hill.

It had been a young queen that had dissuaded the Pentarchy from going to war and now it was a young prince that convinced them to act otherwise.

“They are here,” Kiaan spoke, stating the obvious. Nashreen was quiet by nature, but in this situation her silence was disheartening.

“They are,” she easily approved. “Do you think that what I am doing is madness, Kiaan?”

He sighed in return. “Perhaps. But you have your way with such things, I will give you that.”

“Good.” Kiaan caught a glimpse of a smile through the long and heavy strings of gold that covered her nose and lips; a veil, and yet no fabric.

Nashreen clapped her heels to the stallion’s sides – a light trot began and then a rapid gallop as it went down the hill. The Captain followed suit, the others soon to come.

They had been seen and expected. A guard stood at the foot of a hill and while he recognized the flag, he continued to look behind the riding party. He had expected… well… more.

“Present yourself,” he addressed them, a little insecure, as they, once more, came to a stop. His gaze continued to travel beyond the riding party. No. No one had been left behind.

It was Kiaan who spoke and introduced her. “You are in the presence of Nashreen Sharma, Queen Regent of Duren.”

Nashreen let the hood of her blue cloak fall in the meantime, revealing the blonde curls underneath. It covered much of her, the cloak, but there was a glimpse of the white dress behind it and its gold accents.

“I would like to see Prince Kasef,” she added, “I believe that I am expected.” He was, after all, the one who had reached out to all of them. She had sent him a positive response at the time, but, of course, she had delayed her arrival. And now, that she did arrive, Nashreen hardly imagine that he would be too pleased.

The guard offered a nod. “Of course, Your Majesty. But… shouldn't we wait for the rest of your party?”

“No.”

Nashreen’s confidence in her answer didn’t leave room for more questions. The guard didn’t ask more either. “Follow me.” And he would lead them to the camp and through it, closer to its centre, where Prince Kasef’s tent would be.

Once they would reach their destination, Nashreen would dismount – her intention wasn’t to appear to be above him, no. Her intentions would come out, in time.

Lucyfer ​

 

[Lucyfer]

As the shadow fell upon the darkened study, and the pathway closed behind, a light began to glow in the room followed by a gentle murmuring of “Lumo” and a few gestures. A golden orb within the palm of a gloved hand began to illuminate, and fill the room with light, giving the fair woman a view of the room as she lowered her hood and looked around.

She stepped lightly as she moved about the chaos of scattered items, mostly the familiar – candlesticks and writing utensils. Wax decorated the floor, the wall, the side of a desk, evidence of a struggle, or a temper.

The light caught on a mirror, in a way that drew the trespasser’s gaze. It did not seem a natural glint, or a natural passing, and she stepped towards it, noting the many symbols that lined the edge of the mirror, none of which were familiar to her. ‘Curious.’ Always curious. What did Viren do with this mirror?

“Ad Lucem.”

She wove a gesture with the words, golden light following her fingertips, before pushing forward and falling upon the mirror, the room, with that twinkling light. Yet, it did little more than cause the symbols upon the mirror to take on that glint, and shine brightly for a moment. It did not offer an idea of what the glass showed, or what it was used for.

‘Maybe….’ Perhaps this had been used in the assassination attempt? She could hypothesize that, as her fingers traced at symbols, half-hoping for one to alight and let her know it was related to the Sun – something she could use. But the assassination attempt still lingered, and she wondered if the mirror had been used. There was something still missing in that equation, something she had seen – someone she had seen – behind Viren. Mirrors were known for distance spells, and seeing spells. If he had to see them….

Maybe.

Cyra Boreal heard the steps approaching. She’d spent too long tracing the symbols to examine much else.

It seemed she would not get so long as she would have liked to examine the room, and she adjusted her position so she was not in front of the mirror, but instead standing in front of the entryway. Her staff she left back in camp, so she only had to balance the primal stone under an arm, which she tucked under her dark purple cloak. Not that it helped much.

The sun always shone, and the light could be seen through the fabric, no doubt.

Viren entered at an easy pace, but he did not appear as terribly surprised. ‘Alarms?’ She wouldn’t put it by Viren to set up alarms on this area, though she hadn’t detected any before walking into it. “Hello, Your Grace,” that was his title now, wasn’t it? She didn’t quite drop into a curtsy, but she did at least briefly bend her knees and drop her head.

Looking back up, she noticed the creature at his ear. “Er. You…have a bug, right here,” she made a gesture at her own ear, forgetting that the bug wasn’t quite as important as explaining her presence here.

Getting rid of the bug should be quick.

Then they could be back on track.

~***~

Prince Kasef of Neolandia had ridden his armies hard and fast when he learned what befell his father, and who had struck. His father had been foolish to ignore Katolis’s cry for help against Xadia, but still, Kasef loved his father Ahling and intended to make sure Xadia suffered for what they had done to him.

He hoped to return to see his father alive.

To tell him of what their alliance had done – what he had done, in bringing everyone together. It had taken more than Kasef anticipated, including seeing to it that the supposed “king” Ezran was dethroned. He should not have been on the throne anyways, given his age, nor should Viren have been in a cell, given all he had done.

It was unprecedented, perhaps, but it was in the interest of everyone that he do all that he could to warn people of the threat.

And even then, he had gone ignored.

Now the armies of Neolandia, Katolis, Del Bar, and Evenere were gathered, leaving only Duren. Kasef was anxious to see Duren arrive. He did not know how long Viren may wait for them; he had received a positive response, and was anxious to get a move on.

It was thoughts of Duren which plagued him as he went back into his tent, to look over the letter once more to see if it had given any indication of a timeline. How long could it take to get from Duren, really? He scowled at the letter in his grasp, before one of his servants spoke from outside the door. “Prince Kasef?”

He turned his head quickly towards the tent flap, “Queen Regent Nashreen Sharma is here to see her.”

The man exhaled, his rather large frame relaxing as he heard that. He set the letter down and pushed his fingers through his hair – then reached for his crown to put it back on his head, and reached for his vest.

He had been sparring in the fields among his soldiers to keep himself occupied while he waited. He hadn’t wanted to sweat through his cloths, so he’d taken off shirt and vest. Now he just draped the brown and gold vest over him, figuring it was enough for now. “You may send her in,” he stated, and would observe her entrance, a polite smile on his face. She resembled Aanya in some ways – older, certainly, but the same golden hue, and even blonde hair, although that differed.

He wondered how they were related. If they were related.

He would greet her with some warmth. Sure, Ezran had annoyed him, but he still tried to be cordial and polite to others of royal status.

“I was expecting Queen Aanya,” he confessed when his eyes alighted on the blonde. He hadn’t met Nashreen before, though his father had. He hadn’t heard anything bad about her, “but I suppose it may be safer for someone so young to stay further from the battlefield,” at least one youth knew what to do – stay out of this business. Even if she had been the one, from what Kasef heard, to make sure they did not go to war by disagreeing.

‘The others didn’t have enough of a backbone.’

“I trust that the Queen is unharmed?” Despite his irritation with all of that, he did not wish ill upon her; she was young, she had much to learn about, and to grow. She had been the only one to even take a definitive stance at the meeting – the young prince could appreciate that much, at least.

He wasn’t going to be offering his hand to her, as Ezran had done with him, “Tell me, what have you brought with you, Queen Regent? We are looking to leave soon, His Grace does not want to give those elves anymore of an advantage than they already have, and I know that Duren is famed for its archers.”

He was hoping for more than archers.

He knew that Del Bar had brought along another dark mage with a primal stone – not something either Del Bar or Evenere had. He didn’t know if Duren had such secrets it brought along with it or not.

 

[Asteria]

“Cyra.”

Viren’s tone held no anger as he responded to the intruder’s greeting – it was calm, yet firm. He adopted a similar approach with his children, though the firmness would usually turn into a quiet acceptance expressed through a resigned sigh; it was easy to maintain his neutral position when he was faced with the tricks of one or the other, but when Soren and Claudia joined forces in their usual misbehaving, it was harder to resist and not break through his displeasure.

And Cyra, too, was misbehaving. Viren remained in the doorway for a moment as he looked her over. He was more familiar with her writings than her presence. He had seen her before, when she was younger and still learning, and while he had been aware of her presence in the camp, he hadn’t made an actual effort to reach out. He didn’t have the time for such things anymore.

But she had found a way to get his attention. He couldn’t help but think of Claudia just then, as Cyra stood before him, carefully tucking what he thought to be her primal stone under her cloak. Her attempt to conceal it was of no use – the stone shone through the fabric of her cloak, lighting a spot of dark purple into a slightly lighter shade.

That spot seemed to attract Aaravos’ attention as well. He strolled as a content feline towards the young woman, caring little for what one would consider personal space. Seen or unseen, he simply didn’t care for boundaries.

Viren could hear a light hum, a vibration coming from deep within Aaravos’ chest – a quiet chuckle almost, and one he didn’t know what to make of. “Curious little thing, this one,” he said then, “studying the mirror with the little trick she hides under her cloak…” Aaravos trailed his words as a translucent hand reached out to one of her curls.

The tips of his fingers went right through it, a bitter reminder. No, he wasn’t able to touch. To feel. Not yet.

But soon…

He didn’t look back at Viren, but Viren looked at him, watched him, though to Cyra it may appear as if he simply looked into the distance. He set his jaw in order to prevent himself from commenting on Aaravos’ statement.

Cyra was a curious woman indeed; that much he knew. Questions and more questions she had had once… He didn’t know how far her curiosity would take her, to what lengths she would go in order to satisfy it. She was here, though, wasn’t she? For what purpose, he couldn’t tell just yet.

Viren reached out for the handle of the door then, pulling it closed behind him as he entered the study. It was at that moment that Cyra mentioned the bug at his ear. He was used to it at this point; Soren had already tried to knock it off or crush it on numerous occasions, despite his protests. And while others were not as violent, questions would still arise.

And Aaravos’ subtle laughter resonated into his ear.

“Its presence should be of no concern to you. It is harmless. Call it an… animal-familiar, if you will,” he told her, easily so. For Cyra, the word ‘familiar’ would hold more meaning than it had done for others.

“It has been a while,” Viren couldn’t help but mention as he gave the room a once over. Everything seemed to be in its place, as much as it could be – he had clearly left a mess behind him. He made no mention of how he had come to know of her presence in his study though.

That was something for her to worry about.

He was still calm, neutral, despite the many questions he had. “But I imagine that neither of us would have envisioned our reunion to be under such… circumstances.” One could pretend to think so, at least.

“What brought you to me is quite urgent, I believe.” He would allow her to fill in the blank spaces in this story. Somehow, he didn’t believe that his presence had been expected or even desired in the first place.

But again – that was something for her to worry about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

There was no mistaking who Prince Kasef of Neolandia was once Nashreen’s gaze settled upon his form as she entered through the flaps. “Prince Kasef,” she greeted at the sight of him, but no curtsey followed.

He was the image of his father, though he stood taller than the latter. That was hardly a surprise. In the very few instances in which she had met King Ahling, the topic of his children had been brought up with over-joyous pride, but there had also been a humorous complaint about his prince being quite a handful. The same thing could be said about the king, though, for an entirely different reason. While Prince Kasef was too hot-headed, his father had a childish streak that couldn’t go unnoticed once one found themselves in his presence.

The first time she had met him, Nashreen had been quite young and still fairly nervous about the position she had come to occupy. It had been one of her first events as Queen Regent, the image of Duren, of her home. She had still been getting used to the newness of it all.

King Ahling had approached her first. And, instead of the usual greeting she had expected to receive, he had made a flower appear from behind her ear before handing it to her. She hadn’t forgotten that. It was a silly gesture from a king but a reassuring one all the same.

Prince Kasef seemed to have no tricks up his sleeve – not that he had any sleeves to begin with, considering that he was wearing only a vest –, but his welcome was cordial. Respectful. A greeting one would desire from another royal.

He wasn’t as easy-going as his father, certainly, but he was still something that Nashreen could work with. She offered the prince a smile of her own, warm and soft, as she settled before him.

And the prince began his discourse with a confession – he had been expecting Aanya in her place like many others. Considering Aanya’s strong presence during the reunion of the Pentarchy and the secrecy that surrounded her state after the assassination attempt – for secrecy easily led to confusion –, it was expected.

Despite the prince’s belief, Aanya would not remain away from the battlefield. Not for long.

His next question allowed Nashreen to bring some clarity to the situation though. “I am afraid that Duren did not have a happier fate than Neolandia, my prince. The Queen has been harmed. You can perhaps understand my silence on the matter or the delay in my arrival.”

It was a lie. A necessary lie but a lie all the same. It wasn’t hard to pretend that it was indeed the truth. Losing Aanya had always been a permanent fear, a persistent threat hanging over both of their heads. Aanya had been the one who was supposed to grow through her, but Nashreen felt as if she was the one that had done so. She had clung to the Young Queen as if she was an extension of her persona.

That thought alone brought a touch of sadness to the curve of her lips. “I pray that both of us will see better days at their side.” And those words weren't a lie.

But they weren’t here to share the burden of their losses, that much she knew. Prince Kasef lost no time in inquiring about what was of true importance now – numbers, Duren’s forces. Nashreen clasped her hands tightly in front of her.

“Nothing,” she stated simply. The answer was just as clear. “Well, let me make the situation sound less grim; I have ten riders with me at the present. The rest of my forces have remained stationed at Duren’s borders: twelve thousand soldiers, of which three thousand are archers.”

They were not here though. The prince wouldn’t be pleased, understandably so.

“You see, my prince,” she began then, tone still pleasant, “I am rather uncertain about the situation Duren has been asked to be a part of. Many questions arise from your actions, from Katolis… and if you heard about my queen’s approach to war, you can understand that this will not do for us.” The decision will not be taken out of impulsiveness or sentiment. Not when so much remained unknown.

“You have been the one to reach out to all of us and now there is a mention of His Grace… is Katolis still King Ezran’s? Is it the mage’s? Who am I to follow? Is this war meant to bring justice… or fulfil a man’s desires?”

Questions, questions… “It would have been a waste of resources to bring my men on such uncertain grounds and leave Duren unprotected.”

Lucyfer ​

 

[Lucyfer]

Viren’s tone was terribly familiar in a way any child who was prone to misbehaving would know, and Cyra knew it, though she had left her childhood years behind. Her parents had still been inclined to it even into adulthood, when she started to dabble in dark magic. Their disapproval had been obvious.

Viren’s disapproval with her presence was also, obvious. That was to be expected, given she had hoped for more time to explore here – if even to be found here. Ideally she would have met him more on her own terms, but this would still work.

Even if Viren was being a bit weird. Looking into the distance, before speaking to her. Cyra did look over her shoulder, but of course, she saw nothing as he spoke of the caterpillar being his familiar. “Ah.” She looked back over to him, and at the curious bug on his ear. “Well…I suppose you don’t really get to pick it,” that wasn’t the way with familiars. The bond was there or it wasn’t, and caterpillars had their power.

Transformative powers, like the butterfly.

For trespassing, Viren was calm. Cyra had not been certain what to anticipate, most of their correspondence in letters, so she was not certain if she ought to be reassured or worried about this. Her king had spoken of his demeanor, during the meeting, and at its conclusion. He had lost his temper at the end, when Aanya denied him aid. So, she thought, this may be a good thing, as he spoke to implore her for details as to her trespass.

“Yes, it is urgent,” Cyra said, considering her ways out of the room if she ended up needing them, considering the primal stone.

Of course, if she had intended Viren harm, she would have acted before speaking, but curiosity was still reigning supreme.

“As you know, His Grace Florian is dead,” Cyra said, stating the obvious, “Prince Solaire has been crowned, hastily,” it was abnormal to crown one so soon, but this was war, after all. They had to act. Certain norms went out the window, as it had with King Harrow, and as it had in crowning Viren king, when it should have gone to an orphan after Ezran abdicated the throne.

“As you know, King Florian was not killed by a Moonshadow assassin,” her tone almost sounded apologetic as she said it, but she wasn’t going to phrase it as a question, or ask him to confess. She knew. She saw no point in making a game of it, “You killed him,” she could assume why, of course.

She heard as much from Florian – fear of Xadia, of what they would do to Katolis and the rest. He may have had good intentions in doing it – to target only four, and so save all. It was a cold, terrible logic – but she could imagine it. Had already considered that.

“You and an elf.” A blurry, hazy image was still in her mind, “And that leaves me with many questions about this war, and your intentions with it, Viren.”

Obviously, she had not yet outed him to Del Bar or to King Solaire, or they would never have arrived on the doorsteps of Katolis. At least, not peacefully.

“I am hoping you could begin by explaining why you took this action, and why you seem to be working with an elf,” she couldn’t determine the sort of elf. The image had been far too blurred, and though she had been in Xadia, she had not met any elves. Had not wanted to meet any elves, for that matter.

That would have meant death.

~***~

Nashreen seemed unbothered by his expectations, and for that, Kasef was relieved to see her smile, even though her further answers would dampen that spirit. First, her response about Aanya being wounded did cause his lips to turn down. She may have spoken out against the war, but at that time, so did his father. He could not blame it on her being youthful entirely, no – she had misjudged the threat. They had all misjudged the Xadian threat.

“I do understand,” he spoke to that, “I pray that Queen Aanya will have a smooth recovery,” as he hoped for his own father. He hoped he would be returning to find his father awake, and cheered to see him. That it would all return to normal, only now, without the Xadian threat to ever loom over them.

And yet, in spite of what happened to Aanya, nothing was sent.

Kasef’s olive eyes widened, and he blinked, startled by this. He started to open his mouth, to express his outraged confusion, but he shut it quickly as she continued, though is arms did fold over his chest. His posture was no longer so open or welcoming, finding that he hadn’t been believed or trusted enough to send forces by Duren.

He let out an agitated huff as more questions came from her.

He lifted his hand to his hair, and pushed his fingers back through it, shutting his eyes a moment as he thought of how to answer. Not that it would matter, they were leaving soon, and Duren wouldn’t catch up with them anytime soon.

“No, King Ezran willingly abdicated the throne. Viren is king at this time,” not the way Katolis usually did things, from what he was hearing, but Kasef didn’t much care. He dropped his hand. “It’s meant to bring justice. That’s what Viren was doing at the Pentarchy – trying to bring justice for Harrow, and protect us all, but he wasn’t heeded then, and now we’re all paying the penalty for it. You can speak to King Solaire or Queen Nasira if you want to know more of what Xadia has done.” He gestured out of the tent, in a vague direction.

He didn't actually know where Solaire or Nasira were, of course. They were present, and she could easily speak to any one of them if she needed to know the havoc that Xadia's assassins had wreaked on their lives. Of the threat they presented to all of humanity.

Both reported dead parents, as well.

Both were here to see to it that Xadia would no longer threaten them. “Or simply look at human history to know what we’ve dealt with for all these years with Xadia.”

How they had been kicked out of Xadia.

How the elves never helped them in the first place.

He let out an agitated huff, “It will be too late to call your men, we will be marching soon. Perhaps when you see how things are, you can at least request they defend the border while we are in Xadia, to prevent further tragedy.”

Though he wasn’t sure how much use that would be if attention was focused on the marching crew.

Still, he was annoyed with Duren for not sending any aid after what befell Queen Aanya. Clearly now they could see the need – what did it matter if it was Ezran or Viren who led? And in Kasef’s opinion, it was a good thing that Viren led.

Ezran didn’t have the stomach for this.

He was a disappointment to his father.

To his mother.

 

[Asteria]

The matter was urgent, indeed. Viren remained silent, only offering Cyra a nod as to show that was listening to her. He did wonder if the issue she wanted to discuss was tied to the reason why she had seemed so interested in Aaravos’ mirror or to a mundane matter related to her king and his kingdom, and the role they presently occupied.

It was questionable, how much truth could be found in the latter. For the beginning, however, he had been right in his assumption. Cyra spoke of King Florian’s death and the hasty coronation of his son. That had been the case of most of those who were present: Prince Solaire, Princess Nasira, even himself. Neolandia was momentarily represented by King Ahling’s eldest son and, once Duren would arrive, he hoped to see Aanya’s former regent.

“Of course,” Viren agreed. He did know. “I have already offered King Solaire my sincerest condolences. King Florian was a good man and, by the looks of it, his son will easily fall in his footsteps.”

But her words took a turn, one that wasn’t as unexpected as it should've been. It was an unpleasant one all the same, as she further spoke of her king’s death and those she considered responsible for that outcome.

Him.

Him and an elf.

Perhaps considered wasn’t the right word – she did not ask, she did not even desire a confirmation. She simply knew. She wasn’t accusing him; she was only stating the truth.

That was for the better, he thought. Had she lashed out at him immediately, he would’ve found himself in need to get rid of her.

Such thoughts proved to be unnecessary for the time being. She was willing to listen. His frown had grown noticeably as she spoke, and he became aware of the tension present in his body once he glanced at Aaravos. He was still at her side, as composed as ever. He even seemed somewhat entertained by Cyra’s boldness.

Viren hardly knew what to make out of that peacefulness. He always seemed to be in control, even when he was not.

‘Easy.’

He untensed with a low sigh and a subtle roll of his shoulder blades.

“There is a saying, I believe,” he began, tone neutral. “The Sun watches what I do, but the Moon knows all my secrets and she whispers them to her lover as he rises from his slumber. There are no real secrets under the Sun, are there, Cyra?” He lowered his gaze to the bright spot on her cloak.

Viren cautiously eyed Aaravos once he raised his gaze. Cyra’s Sun Primal Stone – light would always shine upon the truth. Nothing could stay hidden, not forever. He had used one of Aaravos’ spells and he had not been warned about its loose ends. It had been a misstep on his part as well, perhaps, because he had not taken into consideration all the possible ways in which his plot could be uncovered.

Nonetheless, her knowledge of the situation may prove to be an affordable loose end.

“I still remember the first time I saw you,” he went on as he took a step forward, standing between her and the door. “Back then, you were a young girl fascinated by the idea of Xadia and learning magic. Your parents weren’t too fond of your dreams, however.” They had called her back to Aurelia soon after her arrival.

“You had a mind for learning and an enthusiasm that may only come from an immense curiosity. It was a pity to see you leave. I was curious myself to see when,” if, “I will hear from you again.”

One could not base someone’s future on their childhood wishes. Not fully, at least. Interests were fickle at a young age, and enthusiasm could quickly fade. Such things meant little in the long run anyway. Most children and young teens would get enthralled by the idea of producing magic, only to abandon it once they found something more accessible. He had thought that even Claudia would direct her attention towards something else as time went on.

But her attention had been steadfast. Even now, she seemed to be just as focused as she had been during her first day.

So was Cyra.

“And, of course, you've proven to be stubborn. Ambitious. It was good to learn more about your progress, as much as you’ve allowed me to.”

It wasn’t all play, this talk of the past – it hadn’t been so with Harrow, Ezran, even Aanya.

He wished that they had listened. Things may have been different now.

“I especially recall one incident from our conversations. The illness of a boy of four, if my mind doesn’t fail me.” He watched her carefully, his gaze and tone softer than before.

Even now, he thought of Soren, of his fear and his pain. He was too young to understand what was happening to him, much like the four-year-old.

He thought of Lissa, of her own fears and worries.

‘It doesn’t matter, Viren. You’re hiding a monster beneath a thin layer of skin.’

He thought of Claudia and her hope.

‘I want to learn, dad. What if Soren gets sick again? Or you? Or mom?’

“We can’t always do the right thing, Cyra. There is no right or wrong in a situation like this one. Sometimes we do what we have to do.” He had done what he had needed to do. “Haven’t you sacrificed much in your own line of work? Why did you even want to become a healer in the first place?”

Their answers may be more similar in kind than she believed them to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Prince Kasef made no attempt to conceal his emotions: there was surprise, a tint of confusion, and a quiet rage as the realization hit him – she was there, yes, but alone. His open posture turned defensive as he folded his arms over his chest while she spoke. He huffed bitterly and moved his fingers through his dark locks in irritation.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Nashreen imagined that he was trying to compose himself, but she dug a nail into the soft flesh of her palm while she awaited his response.

As he began to speak once more, though, she, too, was surprised. Unlike his gestures, his tone remained rather calm, but not without great effort.

She removed the pressure at the sight.

The Prince confirmed what she knew. Lord Viren, King Harrow’s advisor, had been crowned king following Ezran’s abdication. It was no longer a mere issue of regency.

“I see,” Nashreen said. She did wonder, briefly, about Ezran’s whereabouts. She couldn’t help but think of Aanya just then.

Most people used the term child as an insult for young rulers, but it was more than that – it was a truth that brought along a heavy responsibility for those around them. Prince Ezran may be just that, a child, but he was a child in need of teaching, attention, and love. Of discipline, too, at times.

He had lost his mother. He had lost his father. He had lost his crown and with it the reminder of his parents and his family’s legacy.

He may as well have lost his home.

She didn’t get to inquire about his health, though, as the prince before her went on, speaking of justice and protection, of past and present wrongdoings. One veiled rebuke after another.

“The unity of the Pentarchy is flawed, it is true,” she did not deny it. It was perhaps rather unfit that it was Nashreen who spoke so, considering she had been the only one that hadn’t heeded his call. “I don’t need to look far away from home and the history of the family I serve to be made aware of what Xadia is capable of. Neither does my Queen.”

Viren had made use of Aanya’s mothers’ sacrifice in his attempt to be persuasive. His demands had been refused even then by a so-called child, a child that had known loss long before she had come to know happiness.

“And this is what it all comes down to, in the end: our homes, our families. We are here for our own interests. It just so happens that our current positions are quite similar in kind. We are blinded by the same loss and the fear and hurt it has brought along.” Sympathy and understanding were not enough to make one act upon another’s suffering. The Pentarchy had already made that clear.

For Duren, not even the shared experience had seemed to be enough of a reason to act upon. While clearly displeased, the prince did try to find a use for her rebellious troops. There was a rebuke even in his offer for Duren to protect the border. It was hardly a helpful position and they both knew it.

If anything, Nashreen imagined that she being proven wrong in the long run would bring him a silent satisfaction.

She did nod at his words, no matter. “You have said well, my Prince. It is a tragedy,” she emphasized the cursed word, even though it was hardly the focus of their conversation.

It was a tragedy from all sides. For all sides.

‘I cannot repay a debt of a hundred thousand whose lives were saved by sending a million men and women to die in violence.’

“However, what you have proposed can be easily done. Katolis is the key to the heart of the Pentarchy; the border shall be defended accordingly.” They did not know Xadia’s true intentions.

Or the others' true intentions, after all.

The curve of her lips turned slightly apologetic. “I am aware that we may appear to be in disagreement, but I do hope that you will come to see Duren’s forces as… ah, well-prepared and well-rested reinforcements. They have the means to catch up if necessary,” that was for her to decide, “considering that they won't have to face the same difficulties we will.”

The talk of battle did not interest her as much at the present moment – she imagined that a council would be called soon in order to discuss such matters. Duren’s lack of aid may have not been taken into consideration.

“Speaking of disagreements,” she continued, “I was surprised to hear about Prince Ezran’s abdication. It seems to be quite a rushed decision as he is of an age that allows him to have a regent. And he had a regent…” Or so had Viren claimed during the Pentarchy.

She did not continue. Her silence was rather telling. “I imagine that the young prince’s abdication was the only way to avoid conflict inside Katolis’ ranks, but is he well?”

Lucyfer ​

 

[Lucyfer]

Cyra did not expect Viren to be happy that she knew, and she did hope he would maintain a level head about it, as she was trying to approach this calmly, and to understand. To hope that Viren had the best intentions in mind, though the presence of the Elf certainly had her wondering about that, given their target was Xadia, and elves, by default, really. If he had such an ally…well, his motives were in question.

She kept her expression calm, as neutral as possible, though some unease certainly slipped in when he came forward, making one exit from the room difficult to access simply by his movement. She offered a nod to his statement of secrets.

The saying was quite familiar to her. She prided herself on finding answers, after all – and this had been one of those things she found the answer to, although it had brought with it more questions. Her eyes kept track of Viren as he spoke, careful for movement that might lead to an attack, or a spell, or, well, anything that could cause her harm. She was aware that she had more or less cornered him with this information.

She remained blissfully unaware of the other presence watching her.

Unaware of how powerful that caterpillar could be.

He spoke not of an answer to her question, but of recollections of their history – her history, in particular, and her path that cut her off from the norm. Her parents had been against her trajectory, at the beginning, and in some ways, even now. It had led to her position now, and it had truly taken off with that child she was desperate to heal – and she had.

“Why do you think I am giving you a chance to answer, and not simply dragging you before the mob, Viren?” Cyra countered as her own answer to his somewhat rhetorical questions. She knew they weren’t entirely rhetorical, of course. She was aware of what she’d done, what she’d sacrificed, in the name of restoration.

She was aware nothing was straightforward.

Nothing was black and white.

“I know how this world works better than most. Life requires life,” even in the non-magical sense. People ate life to sustain themselves, be it plants or animals. She and Viren used to life, to better life, to improve life. They were shunned for it by some, and by others they were revered. “King Florian understood this,” someone that Viren had killed, “On his behalf, I need to know why his Life was required, Viren.” He was familiar with her, so she would remain familiar with him.

“I need to know why you are working with an Elf, when you want a war with Xadia. I need to understand your motives, and how it betters everyone, Viren.” Or else she would drag him before the mob, in some way or other, if it was clear he wasn’t in favor of saving the most lives, of making the best decision.

“I need to know you’re still on our side.” The side of Humanity, the side that bettered them all, and continued life, and not something detrimental. Not something…selfish.

~***~

Although Kasef wondered how much use the troops of Duren would be in defending things, he supposed it would be good to have them at their backs. They hardly had a map of Xadia, did not know where to find everything or everyone. They knew the path to the Queen of the Dragons thanks in part to Viren, and that was where they planned to march, to put an end to all of this by striking out at her.

They would continue to strike out from there, no doubt.

Given all of their forces would be moving into Xadia, it would be good to have something at their back. Something to make sure their people were safe, in case they missed anyone on their way in. With the way Moonshadow elves were, that was certainly possible. So, he tried to make himself relax his posture a bit more as the Queen Regent seemed to agree with that.

Even if he couldn’t be entirely happy about it.

He sighed, still. “Hopefully we won’t need them as actual reinforcements.” They would take far too long to catch up, and if they had to retreat, that would not be good. With any luck, they would remain unnecessary, although skilled archers against dragons sounded useful. He supposed they’d have to make due with what archers and mages they did have. He knew that Viren’s daughter, Claudia, was something of a mage.

There may be others from the other kingdoms, as well. He couldn’t say he was too familiar with all of that. He didn’t have one to bring along, but Viren couldn’t be the only one, right? That just seemed insane.

“As far as I know, Ezran is fine,” Kasef answered. He knew Ezran was put into a cell, but no one really needed to know that, did they? He had abdicated willingly, and so far as anyone needed to know, allowed to move somewhat freely, and treated well. None needed to know he’d been forced towards that decision by the pressure from many leaders here.

But the cell was keeping him safe from retaliation.

Kasef was unaware that Ezran was, in fact, gone from that cell.

“He was smart to hand over power to Viren without a go-between, or advisor role. Quick action was needed, and he knew he couldn’t be there to make it. Not to mention to go along into Xadia, into war, and Viren didn’t need to be hung-up by not having Ezran there and to question the decisions he would be making on Ezran’s behalf.”

That would cause far too much conflict, really, if even the idea of Ezran disagreeing with Viren’s actions existed. Those of Katolis, and others, might wonder if they should be going along with things. Now, there was no question. Viren was king; there was no risk if they went along with what he said, no person to upset ‘back home’ for the decisions made.

It was as she understood: it prevented conflict. "I'm sure you wouldn't want Aanya in this situation, although it seems she trusts you well enough to make the decisions here. I hope there won't be too many conflicts of interests in the few you have brought, or in your wish to have troops sent to the border." Aanya could stop that, couldn't she? Hopefully, she would not.

Asteria