My Mouth Before It Called You A Lying Traitor
To those who belittle members of the lower class, they have failed to consider the ace that is knowledge. Rumours could be dismissed, but not forgotten. With the nobles now divided into two — those standing loyally by the Earis of Serulla, and those who believed in Sarl Zaros Atha'lin — gossip made for propaganda. Unfortunately, it seemed the information uncovered would help very little with the matters of the Trials. If anything, it only stood to fuel the candidates' internal conflicts.
Alongside the attendants who'd moved in to the Palace in order to tend to the son of Nira Atha'lin, came words of his... recent tastes. It was all speculation, of course, but the Earis's handmaidens had whispered about how all of his conquests had held a striking resemblance to them. Dismissal was the immediate response, followed swiftly by the slight hope that even an ember of their old friendship remained.
Zaros had been pinning an Atha'lin rose to his lapel, when his mother entered the room. She did not straighten his collar, nor kiss his cheek or envelope him in a hug — maternal warmth was not something he knew. But if anything, her cold nature had prepared him for the noble court.
"You look... decent. The rose is a nice touch." Nira appraised, gaze analytic as though she was a gardener pruning a hedge.
He did not reply, simply weaving blonde strands together into an intricate plait. Taking this as a sign to continue, his mother lowered her voice to a hiss, a plot readied on her tongue.
"Apparently the Earis was not as virtuous as they would have led people to believe — this will be more shocking to the court than your own exploits, fortunately."
Again, Zaros did not respond. He was not as naive as Nira Atha'lin assumed, nor did he have interest in winning through blackmail. Still, another reminder that he had forfeited his place at the Earis's side left him positively miserable.
"Zaros, are you even listening? Underhanded methods may not be your preference, but for the sake of reform—"
"—what has coveted your attention, mother?"
Blinking, Nira could not speak for a moment. She had half the mind to raise her hand to him for such insolence, but alas she could not afford to direct him back into the arms of that spoilt palace brat. Clearing her throat, she continued with her tale, though the expression on her face distinctly proved her unspoken warning.
"The Earis has shown favour to lovers reminiscent of your visage, my son. If they harbour any lingering affections from your youth, it would be wise to use that to our advantage. Surely you know that the loser of the Trials will be disgraced to the point that one's position may be futile in the face of mockery?"
A noticeable hitch in Zaros's breath caught her attention, but she did not scold him. No one was immune to infatuation but she had faith that he would choose family, and the ideologies she had spent countless hours teaching him, over childish emotions. Still, Nira had the sense to leave in that moment, aware that the second Trial required careful preparation.
The door may have shut, but for Zaros it was the sound of a dam cracking. He downed the glass of wine, filling it up again as though the alcohol burning down his throat was some herbal remedy. Had they thought of him, when they'd lain with people of similar likeness? Had they both been so prideful as to reject the implication of reciprocation?
With a curse, his fists hit the desk he'd been writing his arguments at. He wanted to make do on his jest, and climb through the window and hold his Earis in his arms. Eight long years, and still his heart was weak to that insufferable snark. To that self-righteous nature. To that dammed smile which spurred dangerous thoughts.
Shoulder to shoulder, like the pillars at the entrance to the library, two adolescents watched the stars as though waiting for them to unveil some hidden secret. One, clearly not used to such late night rendezvous, anxiously looked over their shoulder for fear of being caught. The other, noticing such with a merciless grin, draped his arm over them.
"Are you scared of being caught, belladonna?"
His words earned him a huff, and a jab to the ribs with an elbow at the use of the nickname. Clearly, they were not aware of the true meaning of that flower: a dangerous beauty, indeed. A few heartbeats passed before the victim of his playful tease answered with a sarcastic tone of voice.
"No, it's not like anything would happen to us if Madame Venys caught us out after curfew. She would applaud our climbing skills, for sure, and neither you nor I would spend the next few days organising the non-fiction section."
Zaros snickered, leaning into them. They nudged him in retaliation, but nonetheless did not pull away. It would always be like this with them, he could sense it. A verbal back and forth which secreted far too many glances. Silence came over them again, just shy of awkwardness yet comfortable all the same.
"One day," they started, "I'm going to make a map of the stars."
It was an unexpected declaration, but Zaros did not complain, his gaze softening. Something pulled on his mind; it would typically be buried, but his tongue had been loosened by her vulnerable statement.
"Will you go alone?" He asked, quietly.
The young Sarl almost wanted to scoff at their audacity to have a back and forth during what should be an intimate conversation. But, he knew now to look beyond that porcelain mask — the pretense of the expectations weighed upon them.
"I could not think of anything so honourable as ensuring that Her Emminence's second born does not do anything foolish on their voyage."
A well-crafted response. Not quite the I could think of no better place for me than by your side that he had wanted to say, but it was enough. Their hands crept closer, until their pinkies were entertwined in a silent vow.
Oh, but how the death of the original Earis could change everything.
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