strength & honor

and make no mistake, vissai was supreme in kurgan's eyes, which is why he had no choice but to ride the princes hard. especially darius. he was the crowned prince so he got even more flak than the others. so yes, he said things to create distance and make darius chase his approval. he took liberties in checking in on the prince's life. he went above and beyond to make sure darius was prepared for any challenges that may come his way once he ascends the throne. vissai only had one crowned prince and kurgan cared for him deeply.

"if you stay ready, you won't ever need to get ready. i thought i taught you to remain prepped at all times. those from the other kingdoms are not our friends. war is an inevitability. remember that." he could find a teaching moment in any interaction, and though he may have sounded harsh, it always came from a place of care. kurgan was happy to see darius again after so long. "well, you performed adequately when i wasn't watching. now that you'll have time to get your head on straight, tomorrow's bouts should be even more entertaining for me. unless you choke like you always do. you have a bad habit of tightening up at the most critical moments. you need to remember to stay loose."

naturally, kurgan had no way of knowing that dari's combat performance tended to suffer when he observed nor could he begin to understand why that was the case to begin with, but watching the prince use all the skills he'd been taught over the years always excites the master of war. "you'll learn with age that taking your time is a privilge for those who know how to maintain control. as busy as my duties keeps me, it is nice to know i will be spending a lot of time teaching you new things once we return home."

kurgan's expression is light and pleased as he watches dari pour some wine. "there's a fine line between prudence and obstinance, your highness. claiming that you're being cautious doesn't hold water when you look at your track record. multiple sutable matches were made and you rejected them all. it's not a good look," kurgan chided as he lifts the wine to his mouth and drank. "this isn't your father's concern, darius. it's mine. and my concern is not for you, but for the future of the kingdom you hope to one day rule."

that  fine  line  between  humility  and  knowing  he  was  one  of  the  finest  fighters  in  liathra  blurred  at  times,  but  darius  took  great  care  to  keep  it  firmly  in  place.  he  would  not  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  a  mad  king  drunk  on  his  own  power.  not  that  he  possessed  the  same  tendencies  —  or  the  same  volatile  magic,   but  he  had  been  raised  to  carry  pride  with  discipline,  to  embody  vissai’s  strength  without  letting  it  rot  into  arrogance.  “you  know  i  am  always  ready,”  he  muttered,  the  edge  of  defensiveness  slipping  through  despite  himself.  he  had  thought  his  performance  today  proved  as  much,  but  if  absolute,  immediate  destruction  was  what  kurgan  demanded,  then  he  would  give  him  that  instead.

knowing  kurgan  was  watching  did  far  more  to  him  than  he  cared  to  admit  —  and  not  all  of  it  worked  in  his  favor.  under  that  gaze,  he  faltered  in  ways  he  otherwise  never  would.  his  movements  sharpened  too  much,  his  thoughts  crowded,  his  focus  splintered  beneath  the  weight  of  being  seen.  kurgan  would  notice  every  misstep,  every  imperfection.  he  always  did.  and  later,  he  would  dissect  them  with  surgical  precision.  darius  was  not  looking  forward  to  that.  and  yet…  more  time  with  him  meant  more  time  with  him.  that  alone  was  enough  to  stir  something  restless  and  unwelcome  in  his  chest.

his  head  tilted  slightly,  confusion  breaking  through  the  tension.  “you’re  coming  with  us?”  vissai?  kurgan  was  returning  with  him?  abandoning  his  travels  for  this?  to  teach  him?  the  thought  unsettled  him  more  than  it  should  have.  “i  don’t  understand.”

he  straightened  subtly  at  the  shift  in  topic,  composure  pulling  back  into  place  like  armor.  “if  there  had  been  a  suitable  match,  sir,  i  would  already  be  wed.”  his  gaze  lowered,  careful  not  to  meet  kurgan’s  eyes  for  too  long.  it  was  not  a  lie.  none  of  his  father’s  candidates  had  been  suitable  —  young,  beautiful,  pliant.  perfect,  perhaps,  for  other  princes  of  liathra.  not  for  him.

the  words  that  followed  struck  deeper  than  expected.

before  his  next  birthday.

no.

the  blood  in  his  veins  seemed  to  run  cold,  something  tight  and  urgent  coiling  in  his  chest.  “the  throne  will  not  be  mine  for  years  yet,  sir  kurgan.  if  not  longer.  there  is  no  need  to  rush.”  his  voice  remained  controlled,  but  there  was  resistance  in  it  now,  quiet  but  unmistakable.  he  was  standing  his  ground  —  even  here,  even  now.

his  body  betrayed  him  regardless.  heat  crept  along  his  skin,  sweat  gathering  at  his  temples  and  palms,  his  mouth  suddenly  dry  as  desert  sand.  his  heart  hammered  harder  than  it  had  in  any  arena  that  day.  “i  appreciate  your  concern,”  he  continued,  more  firmly  now,  “truly.  but  i  do  not  require  assistance  in  that  matter.  this  is  my  duty  —  and  my  decision.”  his  jaw  tightened  faintly.  “and  i  have  no  need  for  a…  demonstration.”  the  words  grew  sharper  before  he  could  dull  them.

“you  assume  i  do  not  engage  in  …in  physical  relations,  but  you  are  mistaken.  unlike  my  brothers,  i  simply  see  no  need  to  make  a  spectacle  of  it.”  his  gaze  flicked  up  briefly,  something  harder  glinting  beneath  the  surface.  “a  lesson  i  learned  from  you,  if  i  recall  correctly.”  that  edge  —  that  bite  —  slipped  further  than  he  intended.  “is  this  why  you  returned?”  he  pressed,  quieter  but  no  less  cutting.  “to  ensure  i  mount  some  noble’s  offspring  and  place  a  ring  upon  their  finger?”  his  hands  had  curled  into  fists  at  his  sides,  tension  coiled  tight  through  his  frame.  this  was  not  how  he  had  imagined  this  reunion.  not  even  close.  and  yet,  a  part  of  him  knew  he  should  have  expected  it.  kurgan  did  not  come  back  for  him.

he  came  back  for  duty.

he  always  did.

“did  it  occur  to  you,”  darius  added,  voice  lower  now,  more  controlled  but  no  less  pointed,  “that  perhaps  you  are  looking  in  the  wrong  direction  entirely?  that  the  ‘pretty,  supple  things’  you  expect  me  to  favor…  do  not  interest  me  at  all?”  silence  lingered  for  a  beat  after  that,  the  weight  of  his  words  settling  between  them.

then…

a  breath.

regret  followed  swiftly  behind  it.

“…i  apologize.”  the  words  came  quieter,  measured,  as  he  forced  his  hands  to  relax,  fingers  uncurling  slowly  at  his  sides.  he  shook  his  head  once,  grounding  himself  again.  “i  meant  what  i  said,  but  the  manner  in  which  i  said  it  was…  unbecoming.”  his  composure  slid  back  into  place,  though  the  tension  beneath  it  remained.  “if  you  truly  believe  i  require  your  assistance,  then  so  be  it,”  he  added,  more  evenly.  “but  first,  there  are  the  games.  i  intend  to  win  them.”

a  brief  pause,  then—

“and  i  need  to  rinse.”

his  gaze  shifted,  just  slightly.

“unless  you  intend  to  instruct  me  on  that  as  well.”

"how arrogant you've grown to suggest i'd alter military movements just to see you, highness. can you attest that all of my communications to regia ignis have remained confeditinal? who is to say one of the other kingdoms haven't formulated a new surveillance technique? based on my own judgement, i thought it was best to redirect my convoy here. i would never risk vissai's safety on a whim."

as kurgan chided darius, his measured steps carried him forward and accented his points with each beat. "if you meant here as in your private tent, well i thought that'd be obvious. i go where i please and i have to speak to you about what's been happening between your royal thighs," he said, now standing chest to chest with darius, staring him down with a rather stern look as he allows his words to hang between them. of course, kurgan is also the first to crack a smile and start laughing, his arm rising so he could grip darius by the back of the head and fold him into an embrace.

"there he is, my boy! it's been too long darius. long enough for you to have forgotten my teachings. you took far too long to win. the only spectacle the people need to see is absolute battlefield dominance, you know." kurgan couldn't turn it off. even during a gesture of affection with his favorite prince, he was still finding ways to be a guiding force. he supposed if he was no longer needed, he'd have nothing to say.

kurgan ruffles dari's sweaty hair some more before holding him at arms length by the shoulders. he systematically looks over every inch of the crowned prince, first by grasping him by the chin. "you look well, healthy even. a good sign at least," kurgan commented, inspecting darius from every angle as he moved his head side to side before briefly rubbing a hand down his grime-stained tunic. "it was entertaining to watch your victories. even though they were expected."

ever  since  he’d  taken  up  the  mantle  of  vissai’s  renowned  master  of  war,  kurgan  seemed  to  spend  the  majority  of  his  time  traveling.  or  at  least  more  than  he  used  to,  back  when  the  old  knight  had  still  been  rooted  in  regia  ignis  —  when  his  place  had  been  at  their  side.  at  his  side.  training  him.  them.  all  of  the  princes,  yes.  all  of  them.  he  was  in  no  way  special,  and  that  was…  understandable.

darius  owed  him  a  great  deal.  everything,  if  he  was  being  honest.  kurgan  had  been  a  guiding  force  when  the  young  crown  prince  had  needed  it  most,  shaping  him  into  the  fighter  he  was  now  —  ruthless,  precise,  unyielding  in  the  ring.  “rest  assured,  i’d  never  assume  you  came  all  this  way  to  watch  me  fight.”  he  allowed  a  faint,  self-deprecating  note  to  slip  into  his  voice,  turning  away  as  he  began  setting  aside  the  scattered  pieces  of  his  armor,  each  placed  exactly  where  it  belonged.  “i  know  i  wouldn’t.”  the  last  piece  settled  with  a  quiet  finality,  a  soft  breath  leaving  him  as  he  straightened.  “if  anyone  can  determine  whether  there  is  cause  for  concern,  it  would  be  you,  sir  kurgan.”

he  looked  up  just  in  time  to  see  him  move.

and  just  as  quickly,  everything  in  him  stilled.

there  was  no  time  to  prepare  for  it  —  not  for  the  sudden  closing  of  distance,  not  for  the  familiarity  of  it.  kurgan’s  presence  filled  the  space  before  anything  else  could,  grounding  and  overwhelming  all  at  once.  darius’  breath  caught,  lips  parting  slightly,  though  this  time  it  had  little  to  do  with  surprise  at  his  presence  and  far  more  to  do  with  everything  that  followed.  the  remark  drew  heat  to  his  face,  sharp  and  immediate,  but  it  barely  had  time  to  settle  before  he  was  pulled  in.

the  embrace.

it  caught  him  off  guard  for  only  a  heartbeat  before  he  yielded  to  it  completely,  something  soft  and  unguarded  breaking  through  despite  himself.  his  hands  found  purchase  instinctively,  holding  on  perhaps  a  touch  too  firmly,  as  if  the  moment  might  slip  from  him  if  he  didn’t  anchor  it  there.

my  boy.

the  words  landed  somewhere  deep,  somewhere  dangerous.  darius  swallowed,  his  grip  tightening  for  the  briefest  moment  before  he  forced  it  to  ease,  though  he  didn’t  pull  away.  he  couldn’t  —  not  immediately.  he  hadn’t  realized  how  much  he’d  missed  this,  how  much  the  absence  had  carved  into  something  quiet  within  him.  vissai  had  felt  larger  without  him.  emptier  in  ways  he  would  never  admit  aloud.  but  he  did  not  say  that.  he  never  would.  “i  suppose  you’re  right,”  he  murmured  instead,  voice  steadier  than  he  felt.  “i  could  have  ended  it  sooner.”

so  he  had  been  watching.  the  thought  flickered  through  him,  quick  and  sharp.  when  had  he  arrived?  how  much  had  he  seen?  and  why  —  why  hadn’t  he  said  anything  sooner?  kurgan’s  presence,  his  guidance…  it  was  never  unwelcome.  never.  even  now.  especially  now.  the  moment  passed  too  quickly,  as  it  always  did.  it  always  had.

when  kurgan  pulled  back,  darius  let  him,  though  the  absence  of  contact  was  immediate  and  noticeable  in  a  way  he  carefully  ignored.  the  inspection  that  followed  should  have  been  routine  —  it  had  happened  countless  times  before  —  and  yet  it  never  failed  to  stir  that  same  quiet  tension  beneath  his  skin.  as  if,  one  day,  kurgan  might  look  at  him  and  find  something  lacking.  something  unworthy.

his  chin  lifted  where  guided,  compliant  without  thought  almost  as  if  it  came  naturally  to  darius.  little  did  kurgan  know.  “i’m  glad  you  found  it  entertaining,”  darius  said,  allowing  the  faintest  hint  of  a  smile  to  touch  his  mouth.  “i’ll  ensure  the  victories  come  with  greater  haste  tomorrow.”  it  was  as  close  to  pride  as  he  allowed  himself  in  that  moment  —  and  even  that  was  tempered.  his  attention  followed  as  kurgan  moved,  the  shift  back  into  motion  giving  him  something  to  anchor  himself  to  again.  something  normal.  something  safe.  “of  course,  sir.”

the  flush  returned  at  the  bluntness  of  the  words,  creeping  higher  despite  his  efforts  to  remain  composed,  but  darius  turned  smoothly  toward  the  table,  already  reaching  for  the  wine  as  though  nothing  had  unsettled  him  at  all.  he  poured  with  practiced  precision,  though  the  faint  tension  in  his  fingers  made  the  act  require  more  focus  than  it  should  have.  “i’ve  simply  not  found  the  right  person,”  he  said,  quieter  now,  measured and  careful.  “not  for  something  of  that  weight.  the  throne  demands  more  than…  convenience.”  he  set  the  filled  glass  before  him  with  deliberate  care.  “you  taught  me  that  much,  at  least.”

his  gaze  flicked  up  briefly,  searching,  before  settling  again.

“did  my  father  put  you  up  to  this?”  there  was  no  real  accusation  in  the  question,  only  a  quiet  sort  of  knowing.  it  felt  like  something  alaric  would  do  —  send  someone  else  to  press  where  he  would  not.  darius  straightened  slightly,  composure  settling  back  into  place  like  armor.  “there  is  no  cause  for  concern,”  he  continued,  more  firmly  now.  “i  will  choose  a  partner  worthy  of  vissai  when  the  time  comes.”

when  i  decide.

the  rest  went  unspoken,  as  it  always  did.

✨ its missing him hours... ✨

ariya entered the crown prince’s pavilion without hindrance, offering a brief nod to the knights of the ember guard stationed at either side of the open flap. a handful of servants lingered within, attending to his grace’s preparations for the day though fewer than there might have been had he been on the morning’s list. they bow and curtsy at his arrival, then withdraw with quiet efficiency, leaving he and darius alone so they might speak privately.

ariya swept into his own bow in proper deference to the prince, a growing stack of missives held loosely in one hand. there is no shortage of matters within them worthy of discussion and yet he bypassed them all. saying plainly as he straightened, “your brother has a gleam in his eyes that i do not like. you would do well to steer away from him on the breaking field.”

he held darius’ gaze for a weighted moment and then let it fall, crossing the space to seat himself at the small desk pushed against one of the canvas tent’s walls, “or you do us all a favor and let your dragon have a meal of him.”

it was a topic well-worn between them. ari had never liked nor trusted the skywarden’s second born prince, fabianus, though it had taken quite some time before he had dared to say as much to his prince. once he felt he had been given leave to do so, he had said it often though he knew better than to press too hard. in truth, there was never enough time in their crowded days for all ari might have said on the matter, a busy morning of the solstice games and where they might easily be overheard most of all.  

“you have received a great many invitations to watch the king’s charge this morning.” he continued, shifting at last to the purpose of his appearance here. “the king has impressed upon me that it is his wish that you accept one — or extend your own, to someone with whom we might cultivate new ties.”

darius  did  not  look  up  when  ariya  entered.

he  knew  it  was  him  long  before  the  flap  stirred—by  the  way  the  guards  did  not  announce  and  by  the  quiet  shift  of  movement  within  the  tent  as  servants  began  to  withdraw  without  being  told.  it  was  a  pattern  now,  one  he  had  grown  used  to  in  a  way  he  did  not  often  allow  himself  to  acknowledge.

he  waited.

only  once  the  last  of  them  had  gone  did  his  hands  still  at  his  wrist,  finishing  the  pull  of  a  leather  strap  with  a  firm  tug  before  he  lifted  his  head.  his  gaze  found  ariya  easily,  settling  on  him  without  hurry,  without  the  sharp  edge  he  wore  for  most  others.  there  was  a  flicker  of  recognition  at  the  stack  of  missives,  soft  sigh  blooming  in  his  chest. 

at  the  mention  of  fabianus,  something  quieter  settled  into  darius’  expression.  not  irritation.  not  quite.  something  closer  to  resignation,  worn  thin  from  familiarity.  his  thumb  dragged  once  along  the  edge  of  the  strap  he  had  just  secured,  a  habit  more  than  a  need,  before  his  hand  fell  away.  his  attention  stayed  on  ariya,  properly  now.

“he  always  has  one,”  darius  went  on  after  a  moment,  voice  low  enough  to  sit  between  them  rather  than  carry.  “usually  just  before  he  decides  he  is  cleverer  than  everyone  else  in  the  room.”

there  was  the  faintest  shift  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth—not  quite  a  smile,  but  close  enough  to  be  felt.  he  did  not  brush  the  warning  aside.  he  never  did.  not  from  ariya.  his  gaze  held  for  a  moment  longer,  something  thoughtful  in  it  now,  before  he  looked  away  first—toward  the  open  edge  of  the  pavilion,  toward  the  distant  noise  of  the  games  beginning  to  stir.  “i  will  keep  clear  of  him,”  he  said,  and  this  time  it  sounded  less  like  strategy  and  more  like  quiet  agreement.  “or  as  clear  as  he  allows  anyone  to  be.”

at  the  suggestion  that  followed,  darius  huffed  a  breath—soft,  brief,  almost  amused  despite  himself.

“if  i  start  feeding  princes  to  seraphina,  we  will  have  a  different  kind  of  problem  on  our  hands,”  he  murmured.  his  eyes  flicked  back  to  ariya  and  there—  something  warmer  sat  beneath  the  composure.  familiar.  allowed.  “though  i  will  keep  the  option  in  mind.”  it  passed  quickly,  as  it  always  did.

darius  straightened  then,  rolling  his  shoulder  once  as  if  settling  into  himself,  into  the  weight  of  the  day  ahead.  the  leather  at  his  arms  creaked  faintly  with  the  movement,  worn  and  fitted,  more  practical  than  ceremonial,  golden  gauntlents  polished  to  near  perfection.  when  ariya  shifted  the  conversation,  so  did  he.  it  was  almost  visible—the  way  the  crown  settled  back  into  place.

at  the  mention  of  invitations,  his  attention  shifted—not  sharply,  but  with  purpose.  duty  had  a  way  of  doing  that  to  him,  pulling  him  cleanly  from  whatever  else  might  linger  beneath.

“of  course  he  has,”  darius  said,  and  this  time  there  was  a  thread  of  something  wry  beneath  the  composure.  “my  father  does  so  enjoy  offering  me  as  a  prize  to  be  won.”  his  gaze  dropped  briefly  to  the  stack  of  missives  in  ariya’s  hand,  then  lifted  again,  not  to  the  letters,  but  to  the  man  holding  them.

“and  what  would  you  have  me  do?”  he  asked,  though  they  both  knew  he  was  not  asking  for  permission.  not  truly.  “accept  one  of  his  carefully  chosen  alliances,  or  make  a  spectacle  of  independence  and  extend  my  own?”  a  pause,  slight  but  intentional.  they  both  knew  the  answer  to  that  question.   “who,  in  your  estimate,  should  i  be  spending  my  morning  with?”

people  in  high  positions  of  power  were  normally  used  to  being  seized  up.  nosherwan  wasn't  doing  it  to  find  weaknesses  in  darius  however.  if  anything,  he  was  admiring  all  of  the  good  traits  that  he  had  seen  of  the  man  so  far.  looking  for  more  to  spot. 

a  strong  future  king. 

that  much  was  obvious.  so  as  much  as  he  allowed  himself  relax  in  the  newfound  warmth,  he  wasn't  going  to  let  that  lower  his  guard.  he  was  in  vissai  for  a  purpose  and  he  would  make  sure  to  see  it  through. 

“you  seem  to  not  know  the  power  and  class  that  they  hold.  truly,  you're  one  of  the  most  wellspoken  crown  princes  i've  met.”  and  he  had  seen  several  through  his  life.  “good.  i  wouldn't  want  to  make  you  uncomfortable.” 

that  wasn't  the  goal  for  his  trip.  technically,  that  part  was  alreayd  done.  he  could  have  went  back  home  feeling  accomplished.  yet,  he  wanted  to  get  to  know  the  other.

“sometimes,  perception  can  truly  be  all,  can't  it?  if  one  person  thinks  you  mean  them  harm  because  of  your  tone,  it  can  cause  a  whole  outbreak.”  he  wasn't  that  paranoid,  but  he  wasn't  talking  about  himself.  “they're  rarely  enough,  but  they're  almost  always  what  kick  things  off.”  which  meant  they  had  to  be  careful.  “the  middle  is  a  good  place  to  be.  stay  as  long  as  you  can.” 

that  part  was  true.  not  many  were  used  to  holding  a  mirror  up  to  themselves.  something  that  nosherwan  was  always  confused  by,  but  he  loved  his  own  reflection.  “then  allow  me  to  be  the  one  to  see  it  in  you.”  he  bowed  his  head  slightly  as  a  form  of  acknowledgment.  once  more,  he  only  meant  to  compliment  darius  with  his  words. 

this  place  seemed  to  be  what  he  had  needed  since  stepping  foot  into  the  palace.  not  only  was  the  sunlight  finally  shining  down  on  him,  but  the  crown's  armor  was  also  reflecting  it.  warmth  radiated  off  of  every  corner  and  nosherwan  found  himself  getting  a  little  too  comfortable.  it  was  like  his  strength  and  power  was  coming  back  to  him. 

“what's  not  easily  seen  or  known  can  provide  great  insight  for  someone.”  the  answer  seemed  to  actually  surprise  the  changeling.  evident  in  the  fact  that  his  eyes  had  widened  a  bit  and  he  leaned  forward,  closer  to  darius.  “have  you  found  a  lot  of  temples  to  roam?  i'm  sure  your  dragon  gives  you  access  to  a  lot  of  different  places.”  ones  that  not  everyone  would  have  access  to.  that  alone  could  give  some  more  knowledge  than  the  normal  person  could  have  had.  interesting. 

"do  you  often  watch  others  when  they  don't  know  they're  being  watched  then?"  his  tongue  licked  his  lips.  he  did  the  same.  “you're  right.  they  are  truly  themselves  in  those  moments.” 

all  of  the  information  was  eye  opening.

finally,  the  answer  that  he  had  expected  all  along.  that  simply  provoked  a  nod  from  his  side,  not  too  surprised.  “i'm  sure  that  for  someone  that  doesn't  like  to  have  things  expected  of  him,  the  freedom  of  flying  away  from  others  can  be  liberating.”  in  the  sky  he  didn't  have  to  be  a  crown  prince.  he  didn't  have  to  be  anything.  nosherwan  couldn't  even  imagine  it  himself.  “do  you  have  a  strong  bond  with  several  dragons  or  is  it  mainly  your  own?”  he  didn't  know  how  that  fully  worked. 

darius  listened  without  interruption,  though  the  praise  drew  the  faintest  shift  in  his  expression  —  not  quite  discomfort,  but  something  close  to  it.  he  was  accustomed  to  words  like  that,  had  been  shaped  by  them,  expected  to  carry  them  as  easily  as  he  did  his  armor…  and  yet,  coming  from  nosh,  they  did  not  sit  the  same.

“you  give  me  more  credit  than  i  have  earned,”  he  said  quietly,  though  not  dismissive,  his  tone  measured  rather  than  deflecting  entirely.  “but  i  will  take  it  as  it  is  meant.”  his  gaze  lingered  a  moment,  steady,  before  drifting  forward  again.

“perception  can  be  everything,”  he  agreed  after  a  beat.  “it  is  often  what  decides  whether  words  are  taken  as  warning…  or  as  threat.  and  by  the  time  action  follows,  the  damage  is  already  done.”  there  was  no  weight  of  lecture  in  it  —  just  observation,  something  learned  rather  than  taught.

at  nosh’s  next  words,  however,  something  in  darius  stilled  —  not  outwardly,  but  beneath  it.  allow  me  to  be  the  one  to  see  it  in  you.  his  eyes  flicked  back  to  him  then,  sharper,  studying  in  return  now  rather  than  simply  observing.  there  was  no  rejection  in  it,  no  dismissal…  but  neither  was  there  blind  acceptance.  nosh  had  stepped  closer,  in  more  ways  than  one.  “that  is  a  dangerous  offer  to  make,”  darius  said,  voice  softer  now,  though  edged  faintly  with  something  unreadable.  “seeing  clearly  is  rarely  without  consequence.”  and  yet  —  he  did  not  tell  him  to  stop. 

the  shift  toward  lighter  conversation  came  almost  naturally  after  that,  though  the  tension  did  not  entirely  fade.

“there  are  more  than  one  might  expect,”  he  answered,  when  the  temples  were  mentioned.  “vissai  was  not  always  what  it  is  now.  there  are  places  left  behind…  forgotten  by  most,  but  not  entirely  lost.”  his  gaze  dipped  briefly,  as  if  tracing  the  memory  of  them  rather  than  the  stone  beneath  his  feet.

“flying  makes  them  easier  to  find,”  he  added,  quieter.  “and  easier  to  reach  before  others  do.”  at  the  question  that  followed,  the  corner  of  his  mouth  curved  —  faint,  knowing.  “observing  is…  a  useful  habit,”  he  said.  “though  i  suspect  i  am  not  the  only  one  who  practices  it.”  his  eyes  held  nosh’s  for  a  fraction  longer  than  necessary.

then  —  the  dragons.

the  shift  was  subtle,  but  unmistakable.

“one,”  darius  said  simply  at  first.  “it  is…  not  quite  something  that  is  divided.”  his  voice  softened  again,  not  in  volume,  but  in  something  less  guarded,  less  shaped  for  court.  there  was  no  topic  that  could  reach  him  like  dragons  did.   “there  are  others  i  respect,  others  i  have  flown  with,”  he  continued,  “but  the  bond  is  not  the  same.  it  is  not  meant  to  be.”  a  small  pause. 

“they  choose  us  as  much  as  we  choose  them,”  he  added,  glancing  briefly  toward  the  light  spilling  across  the  chamber.  “and  once  that  choice  is  made…  it  is  not  easily  undone.”  and  he  didn't  want  it  to,  either.  seraphina  was  as  much  part  of  him  as  he  was  of  her.  they  were  one  soul,  one  life.  nothing  would  ever  change  that.

his  gaze  returned  to  nosh,  steadier  now,  though  something  quieter  lingered  beneath  it.  “you  speak  of  freedom,”  he  went  on,  “but  it  is  not  only  escape.  it  is…  clarity.  there  is  nothing  to  hide  behind  when  you  are  in  the  sky.  no  titles,  no  expectations  —  only  what  you  are,  and  whether  it  is  enough.”

a  beat  passed,  softer  than  the  ones  before.

“tell  me,”  darius  added  then,  tone  easing  just  slightly,  though  his  attention  remained  fixed,  “does  lysain  offer  anything  comparable…  or  do  you  prefer  to  keep  your  feet  on  the  ground?”

traveling  was  a  part  of  the  job. 

visiting  other  kingdoms  in  light  of  following  their  traditions  was  supposed  to  be  a  fun  thing.  the  invitation  had  even  come  from  the  vissain  high  priest.  observing  the  customs  and  magic  of  the  dragons  up  close  was  going  to  be  a  sight  that  he  would  never  forget.  which  was  a  good  thing. 

what  he  didn't  account  for  was  how  he  always  tended  to  over  prepare,  even  when  he  knew  how  long  it  took  to  get  from  point  a  to  point  b.  there  could  have  been  unforeseen  circumstances  in  the  road  ahead  of  them.  if  varlinnis  knew  one  thing,  it  was  how  to  reach  the  other  kingdoms  quickly.  although,  that  was  a  piece  of  knowledge  that  was  often  times  frowned  upon.  why  they  knew  it  at  least.   

still,  he  wasn't  going  to  let  that  slow  him  down  once  he  was  already  on  his  way.  he  told  them  to  continue  to  push  on  forward  and  ran  into  people  from  other  kingdoms.  they  were  comfortable  with  waiting  around,  slowing  themselves  down,  but  he  didn't  see  the  need.  maybe  he  still  had  similarities  to  the  mad  king. 

better  to  be  early  than  to  not  arrive  on  time. 

he  had  happily  summoned  up  a  flame  to  lead  them  the  rest  of  the  way  there,  hearing  some  concerns  of  the  potential  fog  getting  in  the  way  of  their  sight.  that  could  have  been  seen  as  an  offensive  tactic.  there  was  no  time  for  him  to  dwell  on  that  fact  though.  he  couldn't  let  that  be  what  stopped  them. 

their  entrance  was  announced. 

they  were  there  on  good  terms. 

there  should  be  no  pressure  or  concern,  but  why  did  the  high  priest  always  feel  on  edge?  as  if  people  were  waiting  on  him  to  turn  on  them.  on  varlinnis  to  drop  the  peaceful  act  and  seek  destruction  again. 

a  small  smile  formed  on  his  face  at  the  greeting.  ahh,  the  crown  prince  and  not  the  king?  interesting.  “thank  you,  and  apologize.  that  is  surely  my  fault.”  he  bowed  his  head  out  of  respect.  “i  tend  to  assume  i'm  always  late  due  to  the  unknown  elements  of  nature  and  leave  early.  the  others  tagged  along  in  fear  of  missing  all  of  this  as  well.”  while  his  smile  was  faint,  his  eyes  seemed  to  widen  with  awe.  “that's  amazing  news.  we  are  sad  to  have  missed  it.” 

what  a  joyous  event  to  not  have  seen.  he  should've  left  earlier. 

“i  speak  only  for  myself,  but  i  would  love  to  join  you.”  there  was  no  hesitation  in  the  high  priest's  words.  he  was  ready. 

darius  did  not  speak  at  once.

for  a  brief  moment,  he  simply  regarded  devansh  —  not  as  one  might  assess  a  guest,  but  as  one  might  weigh  presence  against  moment.  there  were  very  few  people  who  could  arrive  unannounced  at  the  gates  of  regia  ignis  and  not  feel  like  an  intrusion.  fewer  still  who  could  be  folded,  almost  seamlessly,  into  something  already  in  motion.

devansh,  it  seemed,  had  managed  it.

a  faint  smile  touched  darius’  mouth  then,  quieter  than  the  one  he  had  offered  in  greeting,  but  warmer  for  it.

“you  have  nothing  to  apologize  for,”  he  said  at  last,  voice  smooth,  unhurried.  “if  anything,  you  have  spared  yourself  the  duller  half  of  the  day.”  his  gaze  flicked  briefly  toward  the  courtyard  beyond,  where  preparations  had  already  settled  into  readiness.  “the  hatching  itself  is…  rarely  witnessed.  even  by  those  who  try.”

there  was  no  disappointment  in  the  words.  only  acceptance  —  the  kind  that  came  from  a  life  spent  around  creatures  that  answered  to  no  schedule  but  their  own.

he  descended  the  last  of  the  marble  steps  then,  the  shift  in  movement  subtle,  yet  enough  to  draw  the  attention  of  those  nearby  into  a  more  ordered  stillness.  silk  whispered  softly  against  light  armor  as  he  crossed  into  the  courtyard  proper,  the  mountain  wind  catching  at  the  pale  fabric  draped  from  his  shoulders.

“what  follows  matters  more,”  darius  continued,  turning  slightly  so  that  his  attention  returned  fully  to  devansh.  “not  for  spectacle.”  a  small  pause,  deliberate.  “for  meaning.”

his  hand  came  to  rest  briefly  along  the  neck  of  his  horse,  steadying  the  animal  with  practiced  ease  before  taking  the  reins.  the  creature  stilled  beneath  his  touch,  as  though  accustomed  to  it.

“in  vissai,  a  hatching  does  not  end  with  the  bond,”  he  said,  almost  conversationally  now,  though  the  weight  beneath  it  remained.  “it  begins  a  series  of  obligations  —  to  the  dragon,  to  our  god  and  to  the  kingdom  that  placed  that  egg  into  waiting  hands.”

there  was  something  quietly  deliberate  in  that  phrasing.

placed.

not  given  lightly.  not  taken.

his  gaze  held  devansh’s  for  a  moment  longer,  something  more  intent  settling  beneath  the  calm.  “today,  you  will  see  one  of  those  obligations  fulfilled.”´he  mounted  in  a  single  fluid  motion,  the  movement  effortless,  refined  into  habit.  from  horseback,  the  perspective  shifted  him  —  less  the  prince  receiving  a  guest,  more  the  figure  others  oriented  themselves  around  without  needing  to  be  told.

“the  rider  waits  at  the  temple,”  he  went  on,  adjusting  the  fall  of  the  reins  between  his  fingers.  “they  will  kneel  before  the  winged  beast  and  be  acknowledged  —  not  as  a  child  of  their  house,  but  as  something…  changed.”

not  elevated.

not  exalted.

simply  no  longer  what  they  had  been.

darius  tilted  his  head  slightly,  studying  devansh  once  more  —  and  this  time,  there  was  a  quiet  note  of  something  almost  like  curiosity  beneath  the  composure.  “it  is  not  often  we  allow  those  outside  vissai  to  stand  within  that  moment,”  he  said.  “but  you  are  not  unfamiliar  to  us.  nor  to  me.”  a  beat  passed,  brief  but  intentional.  then,  softer—  “so  you  will  stand.”

not  a  question.

not  quite  a  command,  either.

something  in  between  —  something  that  acknowledged  both  his  authority  and  the  respect  he  chose  to  extend.  the  wind  stirred  again  through  the  courtyard,  banners  shifting  as  the  escort  began  to  form  more  tightly  around  them,  the  path  toward  the  lower  terraces  already  being  cleared.

darius  gave  a  small  motion  of  the  reins.

“come,”  he  said,  gaze  lingering  just  long  enough  to  ensure  devansh  would  follow.

and  then  he  turned  his  horse  toward  the  open  gates,  the  beginning  of  the  procession  carrying  them  down  from  regia  ignis  and  toward  whatever  waited  below,  the  heavy  beat  of  seraphina's  wings  accompanying  them  in  the  air. 

   "of course it will be memorable. it's one of my own creations." caspian says with a shimmering smile that rivals the plentiful rings he adorns his fingers with. moving to dress, he maintains conversation with the prince. an attendant offers caspian clothing which he puts on, admiring himself in a nearby mirror another attendant held in place. "and the court will have no issue with you being paraded as king of the merfolk. why?" caspian buttons up the front of his ornate doublet, leaving the top few buttons undone so that he can show off the golden necklaces he wore. "--because I said so, of course. they'll have to get used to the idea of you as king one day, anyhow. why not practice?" caspian finishes his outfit with black boots that another attendant has to lace up the back. they go all the way up past his knee, stopping at his thigh. once finished caspian gives himself a look in the mirror, striking a pose. he truly was the prettiest creature to ever grace the entire realm.

darius  watched  him  dress  in  silence,  gaze  steady  as  caspian  moved  through  the  practiced  ritual  of  being  adorned.  there  was  something  almost  ceremonial  in  it,  in  the  way  attendants  hovered  and  adjusted  and  presented,  as  though  they  were  preparing  him  for  an  audience  rather  than  a  simple  walk  through  the  city.  he  did  not  comment  on  the  remark  about  kingship.

not  immediately.

instead,  his  attention  lingered  just  long  enough  to  take  in  the  final  result  —  the  open  collar,  the  gold,  the  deliberate  display  of  excess  worn  with  effortless  confidence.  predictable.  and,  irritatingly,  effective.  he  was  beautiful,  in  a  way.  so  unlike  the  other  men  at  vissai's  court.  “i  suspect,”  darius  said  at  last,  voice  calm  as  ever,  “that  forcing  the  court  into  acceptance  is  a  strategy  that  tends  to  produce  resistance,  not  enthusiasm.”

a  faint  pause.

“though  i  have  no  doubt  you  would  consider  that  part  of  the  entertainment.”  his  gaze  shifted  as  caspian’s  attendants  moved  about  the  room,  gathering  what  remained  of  the  spectacle.

marry  him.

the  comment  drew  the  barest  flicker  of  something  across  his  expression  —  gone  almost  as  soon  as  it  appeared.  darius  did  not  dignify  it  with  a  response.  not  here.  not  like  this.  the  sudden  weight  at  his  arm  was  …  expected.  he  glanced  down  briefly  at  where  caspian  had  looped  himself  against  him,  gaze  resting  there  for  a  moment  longer  than  necessary  before  lifting  again.  he  did  not  pull  away.

“i  do  not  recall  making  any  such  promise,”  darius  replied  mildly,  though  there  was  a  quiet  note  of  amusement  beneath  the  words  that  had  not  been  there  before.  his  free  hand  adjusted  the  cuff  of  his  sleeve  with  idle  precision.  “though  i  imagine  you  would  have  accepted  on  my  behalf  regardless.”

a  brief  glance  toward  the  doors.  then  back  to  caspian.  “come,”  he  added,  tone  shifting  just  slightly  into  something  more  decisive.  “if  i  am  to  be  led  through  drakereach  with  such  claims  attached  to  my  name,  we  may  as  well  ensure  the  food  is  worth  the  spectacle.”  and  with  that,  he  began  to  move  —  fully  aware  of  the  presence  at  his  side,  and  making  no  immediate  effort  to  dislodge  it.

the  palace  corridors  gave  way  to  open  air  soon  enough,  the  warmth  of  the  bathhouse  replaced  by  the  cooler  breeze  that  drifted  through  drakereach.  lanterns  had  already  been  lit  along  the  streets,  their  golden  glow  catching  against  stone  and  silk  alike  as  the  city  moved  around  them  in  a  steady  hum  of  life.  wherever  darius  went,  attention  followed  —  respectful,  curious,  inevitable  —  though  today  it  seemed  just  as  easily  drawn  to  the  figure  at  his  side.  they  made  quite  the  pair.

he  ignored  it  with  practiced  ease,  guiding  them  instead  toward  a  place  he  knew  would  be  quiet  enough  to  indulge  caspian’s  presence  without  inviting  an  audience.  only  once  they  stepped  inside,  the  noise  of  the  town  softening  behind  them,  did  his  gaze  shift  again  —  briefly,  deliberately  —  to  the  man  still  at  his  arm.  shaking  his  head  a  little,  he  let  his  focus  shift  back  on  the  place  around  them.  they  were  offered  a  seat,  hastily  led  inside  the  little  shop  away  from  prying  eyes. 

at  least  for  the  moment. 

it was sweet how composed he tried to look, how in control, even as he gave it away. what a dignified prince, lowering himself onto his knees to suck at the cock of a dirty sailor, a pirate.

he enjoyed ignoring his own station, the finery draped over him in those moments. it was sweeter to think himself the pirate, the seaman who made the dragon prince kneel. or rather let him, there was no force there, darius wanted to be on his knees for thallan like thallan wanted to be at sea.

the thought almost made him rush through it, cut through the poise and shove his cock into that wanting mouth--but he held back. saw the way his breath hitched, saw the hunger in his eyes.

that was the effect he had, the effect his cock had. he watched it and smirked, felt him close, felt his scent and his warmth as he closed in and inhaled. the salt and sweat, the water, the musk of a man who spent his day in the sun.

a caress of his hair as he moaned through it, surrendering to his true self as he set on worship. not rushing as he undid his laces, as he pulled free his treat and denied himself to kiss and nuzzle, to claim.

he hummed, almost wishing for a pipe but it would do to watch, to know all could easily tell what was happening. the sweet prince, taking what was his. was it cruel to think this is what he was born for as he finally opened his mouth to curl his tongue around a fat cock that was warm and wet for him? thickening with more blood as he sucked, took him into his mouth with ease and practice but no hush.

it was slow, careful worship, it was servitude. something foreign to prince, but well known to this one.

"right at home, aren't you?" he whispered, caressing his cheek as he suckled and licked, as he buried his face in thallan's crotch and took all off him. hands holding onto him, steadying both of them, relishing in the pleasure he was giving and receiving on the mere act of worshipping thallan's cock.

the half-elf lowered his pants under his ass, giving him more skin to grip and hold onto, to worship. hips shoving himself further into his mouth, feeling his throat close around with a sigh.

"that's it, no need to think now prince. just do what feels right, just give yourself to me..." he might keep him this time, he might demand more. "how does it taste? as good as you remember?" he leaned back, a pleased grin on his face, a relaxed stance as he leaned back to watch him work. to let his devotion run free.

the  whisper  was  a  brand  against  his  skin,  a  soft  question  of  belonging,  and  darius's  answer  was  a  hum  that  vibrated  through  them  both,  a  sound  of  pure,  unadulterated  agreement.  the  caress  on  his  cheek  was  a  benediction,  and  he  leaned  into  it  for  a  fleeting  second,  a  silent  admission  before  his  focus  returned  to  the  task  at  hand.  he  buried  his  face  deeper,  taking  all  of  him,  the  act  a  desperate  prayer  for  a  moment  of  peace  from  the  relentless  noise  of  his  own  thoughts.  here,  there  was  only  scent  and  heat  and  the  solid  reality  of  thallan  filling  his  senses.

he  let  thallan's  hips  guide  the  rhythm  now,  a  subtle  surrender  of  the  control  he  had  so  carefully  initiated.  it  was  easier  this  way.  to  be  moved,  to  be  used.  the  prince  who  spent  his  days  weighing  treaties  and  commands  found  a  strange  peace  in  having  the  decision  taken  from  his  hands.  his  fingers,  which  had  been  pressing  with  quiet  claim,  now  curled  more  loosely,  accepting  the  steady  thrust  that  tested  the  limits  of  his  composure.  a  faint,  almost  imperceptible  tremor  ran  through  him,  a  current  of  pleasure  that  was  both  a  gift  and  a  test.

then  came  the  command,  soft  as  silk  and  unyielding  as  steel.  the  words  unraveled  something  deep  within  him.  the  constant,  thrumming  tension  of  duty,  of  expectation,  finally  went  slack.  his  shoulders,  which  he  hadn't  realized  were  braced,  relaxed.  a  soft,  shuddering  breath  escaped  him,  muffled  by  flesh.  this  was  the  release  he  craved,  the  surrender  he  couldn't  find  anywhere  else.  his  mind,  unmoored  from  its  usual  anchors,  drifted.  would  this  be  all?  this  hurried  devotion  on  the  deck,  stolen  between  duties?  or  would  thallan's  hands  soon  be  gripping  his  hips,  pulling  him  up,  bending  him  over  the  railing?  the  thought  sent  a  jolt  of  pure  need  through  him, throat tightening on instinct,  a  hunger  that  went  far  beyond  this  single  act.  he  wanted  more.  he  always  wanted  more.

the  question  that  followed,  laced  with  knowing  amusement,  pulled  him  back  from  the  brink  of  his  own  longing.  the  reminder  of  every  other  time,  every  other  secret  visit.  it  was  a  reminder  of  his  own  weakness,  of  the  pattern  of  his  return.  he  should  not  be  here.  a  crown  prince  did  not  seek  out  a  pirate,  did  not  kneel  on  the  worn  wood  of  a  foreign  ship  for  the  taste  of  another  man.  and  yet,  he  did.  again  and  again.

he  pulled  back  slowly,  an  act  of  will  that  left  thallan's  skin  glistening  in  the  sea  air.  his  lips  were  swollen,  his  chest  rising  and  falling  in  a  rhythm  that  was  no  longer  entirely  his  own.  he  did  not  speak  at  first,  simply  breathed,  his  gaze  still  locked  with  thallan's.  "it  tastes,"  he  began,  his  voice  a  low,  rough  thing,  stripped  of  its  courtly  polish,  "like  coming  home."

and  then,  as  if  to  prove  the  point,  he  leaned  back  in,  not  to  take  thallan  fully  again,  but  to  press  his  lips  and  tongue  against  the  base,  in  a  slow,  open-mouthed  kiss  that  was  more  worship  than  want.  his  hands  slid  from  thallan's  thighs  to  his  hips,  fingers  splaying  across  the  newly  exposed  skin,  holding  on  not  just  for  balance,  but  as  if  to  anchor  himself  to  this  truth.  the  prince  was  gone.  here  was  only  a  man  on  his  knees,  finding  his  meaning  not  in  a  kingdom,  but  in  the  salt  and  heat  of  the  one  who  commanded  his  surrender.

Enter Darius.

His eldest brother may have only stood marginally taller than him, but his presence carried where Cassius' never had. He filled every room he entered with an effortless regality, every bit the golden son of Vissai.

Oftentimes, when Cassius looked at him, he saw past all of that -- to Darius’ gentleness. The kind that reminded him his brother was not only Aurelius Skywarden’s son, but Ignatia’s as well.

Regardless, he was easy to spot in a crowd, and easier still to avoid.

It was his words that gave Cassius pause, however, unease settling alongside surprise in his gut.

He had never intended to hide his familiarity with Aren. The Lord Commander was a friend to the Vissai court; it would not be unusual to see a royal prince exchanging words with him. Cassius was -- and always had been -- very intentional about who he was seen with, and what he was seen doing.

He had known, of course, that Darius was clever in his own way.

He wondered, briefly, what their father could possibly want with Aren. Later, after he had humored Darius enough, he would take it upon himself to find out.

"The Lord Commander has always been a friend to Vissai," he said simply, avoidantly. "I was simply welcoming him." He didn't add, of course, such pleasantries weren't expected of him, the third prince. Nor that he considered Aren a personal friend. His interest in the other went above royal propriety and duty.

That aside...

Cassius' eyes narrowed a fraction as Darius invited him to walk alongside him.

It was rare for his brother to show such interest in him. Perhaps it was the curious part of him -- or the lonely, insecure boy who had once longed for his brother’s attention -- but he indulged him, his steps quiet as he fell into place beside Darius.

A wry smile plucked at the corners of his mouth. "You forget, brother," he began, matching Darius' light tone, "procession and expectation follow you everywhere. If I was avoiding anything, it was that."

It was true enough.

If he stood at Darius' side, he would be the one being observed instead of the observer.

As Darius continued, his words grew... gentler, almost curious. It gave Cassius pause, though his footsteps remained steady. His brother’s observation was correct in an unsettling way. He was so accustomed to his family never truly seeing him that to have Darius -- of all people -- so accurately describe his childhood stirred a distant, familiar ache in his chest.

He stilled at the question, caught somewhere between perplexity and something dangerously close to hope.

His mask of indifference, cracked as it was, remained firmly in place. He did not allow the flicker of emotion to surface.

Not yet.

He studied Darius -- scanned his face, saw the gentleness there and…

He would allow him the truth.

"A child never chooses the edges of things," he replied, tone level, measured as it always was. "But, we all have our roles. I have merely embraced mine."

He met his brother's gaze and held it.

darius  listened  without  interruption,  his  gaze  resting  on  cassius  with  that  same  quiet  attentiveness  —  not  sharp,  not  probing,  but  present  in  a  way  that  suggested  he  was  weighing  more  than  the  words  themselves.

at  the  mention  of  the  lord  commander,  there  was  the  faintest  shift  in  his  expression.  not  suspicion.  recognition.  “of  course,”  he  said  simply,  inclining  his  head  a  fraction.  “he  has  always  been…  reliable  in  that  regard.”  he  did  not  press  further.  whatever  cassius  chose  to  name  it  as,  darius  allowed  it  to  stand.  he  believed  him,  but  he  also  knew  there  was  more  to  it  than  he  let  on,  though  he  would  not  be  pushing  for  an  answer  he  was  unwilling  to  give. 

his  attention  shifted  instead,  following  the  thread  cassius  offered  him.

the  faintest  hint  of  something  wry  touched  his  expression  at  the  mention  of  procession.  “yes,”  he  admitted,  quieter  now,  “i  imagine  i  make  it  difficult  to  go  unnoticed.”   there  was  no  pride  in  it.  if  anything,  something  closer  to  awareness  —  of  weight,  of  presence,  of  the  way  the  world  bent  around  him  whether  he  willed  it  or  not.born  to  be  the  center  of  attention  wherever  he  went.  to  hold  himself  in  a  way  that  made  it  impossible  for  others  to  ignore  him.  his  father's  first  lesson,  maybe.  he  didn't  remember. 

his  steps  slowed  slightly  as  cassius  continued,  as  the  tone  shifted,  as  the  words  settled  into  something  more  honest.  this  time,  when  darius  answered,  he  did  not  look  away.

“i  have,”  he  said,  voice  even,  steady.  no  denial.  no  attempt  to  soften  it.  “it  was  never  much  of  a  choice.”  he  was  born  with  only  one  purpose  and  that  had  never  been  up  to  debate.  at  least  not  after  his  dragon  hatched.   

a  brief  pause  followed,  the  air  between  them  still,  carrying  the  quiet  truth  of  it.

“and  you  are  right,”  he  continued,  softer  now,  though  no  less  certain.  “a  child  does  not  choose  the  edges.  any  more  than  he  chooses  the  center.”  his  gaze  held  cassius’,  unwavering.  “we  are  placed.  shaped.  expected  to  become  what  is  required  of  us.”

another  step,  unhurried.

“but  embracing  a  role…”  he  exhaled  lightly,  the  thought  unfinished  for  just  a  beat  before  he  continued,  more  deliberately,  “is  not  the  same  as  being  limited  to  it.”

it  wasn’t  an  argument.

not  quite  agreement  either.

something  in  between  —  something  offered,  rather  than  imposed.  a  fantasy  he  held  onto  for  his  own  survival.  he  wanted  it  to  be  true,  not  just  for  his  brother,  but  himself,  too.

the  sharper  lines  of  his  expression  eased  then,  just  slightly,  something  more  familiar  surfacing  beneath  the  crown  and  expectation.

“and  if  you  were  avoiding  me,”  he  added,  that  faint  trace  of  dryness  returning,  softer  now,  almost  self-aware,  “i  cannot  say  i  blame  you.”  a  brief  glance,  then  back  to  him.  “i  rarely  arrive  alone.”

this  time,  the  quiet  that  followed  was  different.  less  heavy.  still  full  —  but  shared.

and  for  once,  unobserved.

there  were  some  people  that  seemed  to  pay  attention  more  than  others.  that  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  he  knew  that  darius  would  make  a  great  king,  when  the  time  came.  he  seemed  to  know  exactly  what  was  going  on  around  him  and  where.  for  someone  that  wasn't  used  to  have  eyes  on  him,  nosherwan  would  be  the  first  to  admit  that  he  felt  the  crown's  eyes  on  him  a  couple  of  times.  gaze  lingering  longer  than  it  should  have.  so  he  wasn't  surprised  that  the  man  had  said  something  insightful.  almost  as  if  he  had  been  studying  the  older  man.  a  part  of  him  felt  flattered.  another  part  felt  like  he  should  be  on  guard. 

“thank  you.  your  words  do  not  fall  on  deaf  ears  and  they  were  quite  the  compliment.”  this  time,  he  actually  grinned.  “but  they  favor  me  too  much.”

his  steps  slowed  down  whenever  they  passed  by  a  window.  there  wasn't  a  lack  of  sun  this  high  up  in  the  mountains,  but  when  they  were  indoors  it  wasn't  always  easy  to  feel  that  warmth.  his  skin  tingled  whenever  he  felt  that  familiar  embrace.  the  kingdoms  were  so  differently  from  one  another. 

at  least  the  warmth  was  able  to  soothe  him  in  between  steps.  make  sure  that  he  took  it  easy  and  didn't  rush  off  anywhere.  he  looked  at  their  feet  first,  making  sure  to  match  darius'  pace.  then,  he  tilted  his  chin  up  so  that  he  could  look  at  the  eldest  prince  of  vissai.  a  powerful  title  to  hold.

“do  you  favor  those  that  prepare  with  words  or  is  action  more  of  your  go  to?  or  are  you  among  those  that  lay  somewhere  in  the  middle?”  his  ears  seemed  to  perk  up  as  he  asked  the  question.  he  genuinely  wanted  to  know. 

if  people  were  going  to  assume  things  of  one  another,  then  they  might  as  well  try  to  actually  get  to  know  them.  that  was  something  that  he  was  trying  to  do.  read  darius.  understand  him.

“i  often  believe  that  honor  comes  not  with  a  man's  words,  but  his  own  perception.  you,  for  example,  seem  to  be  one  with  high  honor.  it  follows  you  around.”  another  quiet  observation.   

once  he  saw  the  sunlight  pooling  in  the  room,  nosherwan's  feet  seemed  to  do  the  talking  for  him.  he  stepped  into  the  corridor  without  thinking  too  much  of  it.  “you'll  find  that  it  pleases  me  very  much.”  the  grin  only  grew  warmer,  eyes  almost  glowing  under  the  sun.  “do  tell,  what  topics  interests  you  outside  of  the  political  conversations  around  the  round  table?” 

darius  felt  it  —  the  moment  nosh’s  gaze  lifted,  settling  on  him  with  intent  rather  than  passing  curiosity.  it  was  not  unfamiliar,  being  watched,  measured,  weighed…  but  this  felt  different.  less  like  expectation,  more  like  interest.  it  held  longer  than  it  needed  to.  longer  than  it  should  have.

he  did  not  look  away.

instead,  he  allowed  himself  a  brief  glance  in  return,  taking  in  the  way  the  sunlight  caught  along  the  man’s  features  as  he  stepped  into  it,  the  warmth  softening  something  in  his  expression.  it  suited  him,  darius  thought  —  far  too  easily.

“you  give  my  words  more  weight  than  they  deserve,”  he  replied  at  last,  voice  smooth,  though  quieter  now,  less  performative  than  before.  “but  i  will  not  pretend  i  dislike  the  favor.”  a  faint  curve  touched  his  mouth,  fleeting,  but  genuine.

at  the  question,  his  gaze  shifted  forward  again,  thoughtful.  for  a  moment,  he  said  nothing,  as  though  considering  the  answer  rather  than  reaching  for  one  already  prepared.

“i  was  taught  that  words  carry  power,”  he  said  slowly,  “that  they  shape  perception,  bind  alliances,  and  sometimes…  prevent  the  need  for  action  altogether.”  a  small  pause.  “but  i  was  also  taught  that  words  alone  are  rarely  enough.”  his  eyes  flicked  back  to  nosh,  sharper  now,  though  not  unkind.  “so  perhaps  i  do  fall  somewhere  in  the  middle,”  he  admitted.  “though  i  suspect  the  world  has  a  way  of  deciding  for  us,  eventually.”

the  comment  about  honor  lingered  a  moment  longer  than  the  others.  darius  did  not  respond  to  it  immediately  —  not  out  of  dismissal,  but  because  it  was  not  something  he  took  lightly.  “honor,”  he  echoed  quietly,  as  if  testing  the  word  rather  than  accepting  it.  then,  softer,  “i  think  it  is  easier  to  see  in  others  than  in  oneself.”  it  was  the  closest  he  came  to  contradiction.

they  stepped  fully  into  the  chamber  then,  sunlight  spilling  across  the  stone,  catching  in  the  gold  of  his  armor,  warming  what  little  of  him  it  could  reach.  for  a  brief  moment,  he  allowed  himself  to  simply  stand  in  it,  the  tension  of  the  throne  room,  the  weight  of  expectation,  loosening  just  slightly.  when  he  spoke  again,  his  tone  shifted  —  lighter,  though  no  less  deliberate.

“as  for  what  interests  me,”  he  continued,  glancing  back  to  nosh,  “i  find  i  am  drawn  to  things  that  do  not  demand  anything  of  me.”  a  subtle  pause,  just  enough  to  let  the  thought  settle.  “history,  perhaps.  not  the  kind  written  for  courts,  but  the  quieter  accounts  —  the  ones  people  do  not  intend  to  leave  behind.  the  kind  you  find  at  the  temples  in  town.”  remnants  of  a  time  before  vissai  was  the  kingdom  they  knew.  his  gaze  lingered  a  fraction  too  long  again.

“and  people,”  he  added,  almost  as  an  afterthought,  though  the  weight  of  it  suggested  otherwise.  “they  tend  to  reveal  far  more  than  they  realize…  when  they  are  not  trying  to  be  understood.”

another  pause  followed  —  shorter  this  time,  less  guarded.

“and  flying,”  darius  said,  more  quietly  now,  though  something  in  his  tone  shifted,  softened.  “there  is  very  little  in  this  world  that  compares  to  it.”  his  eyes  drifted  briefly,  not  unfocused,  but  distant  in  a  way  that  suggested  memory  rather  than  distraction.  “dragons  do  not  care  for  titles,”  he  continued,  the  faintest  hint  of  something  real  —  something  unpracticed  —  threading  through  his  voice.  “or  expectations.  they  demand  presence,  nothing  more.  and  when  you  are  with  them…  there  is  no  room  left  for  anything  else.”