#avyna

I have no self control. Late night sketch turns into find time to finish and add sketch a thon for my favorite couple.

I doodled for 3 hours last week after teaching and before our karaoke social.

Slyxis and Avyna, being their usual lovesick selves.

And Slyxis and Salin, mostly taking place before Avyna was in the picture.

I am aware this may be suuuuper squished. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking again and I sat myself down to write out the entire family tree for my Artarik Royals. I’ve even done some broad strokes on MOST of the Emperor’s reigns (and may or may not have discovered that there’s a whole other story to write with a couple of them)

I have names for the Emperors, and the Vanais direct line. In this case, both lead to Rhaikshyr, who is the firstborn, re-unification of the ‘godsblood’ or ‘dragonblood’ as they are called. 

This couple has been through so much shit; I just want them to end up happy.

The cells were devoid of most light, the only source a small scattering of torches that were spaced much too far apart to be of any real use for lighting up the prison. If one could call it that. It was a small room under the fortress, meant as a chamber to break even those who swear they are unbreakable, to take from them that which many most value: their source of orientation, of time.

It does not work on those whose lives are already shrouded in darkness.

Why they decided to lock him in the pit, Avyna has no idea. Xalcher has not been able to see in centuries, so the lack of light will not break him. For her own sake, she took one of the torches off the wall and began to walk in the direction of the barred cell they had dragged Xalcher to upon his surrender two days ago. Slyxis had returned from speaking with him with a somber request that she talk to her brother, one she had initially refused point blank.

She had been restless ever since, her feet eventually finding their way to the great iron gates below the main castle. It was midnight outside, most of the fortress asleep after preparing for their march north. Of all the times to step in to the prison, she had to decide on the most surreal.

Her footsteps echoed off the limestone walls, warning their prisoner of her arrival and as the torchlight fell across the stone floor of his cell, Xalcher lifted his head as though he could see it. She stopped in front of him, hanging the torch from one of the sconces welded into the iron.

His hair was frayed and dirtier than she had ever seen it, unkempt on the fortress battlefield. His cheeks had sunken in slightly, and a scruffy beard had started to grow in on his jawline. The chains clanked as he adjusted his position where he sat on the ground and crossed his arms over his knees. “Avyna…” he whispered. It was not a question. He knew exactly who stood before him.

“Xalcher,” she responded, voice cold and as detached as she could make it. Silence fell between them for a time and she crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight back and forth.

After a tense three minutes passed, Xalcher chuckled lightly, sardonically, his sightless eyes following her shuffling footsteps. “Your presence is as unmistakable as ever, sister.”

“You asked me down here to speak,” she cut across, her voice cracking like a whip in the darkness. His head turned up to the source of her voice, trying to pinpoint her exact location. “Then speak.”

The man swallowed and slowly rose to his feet, the chains groaning as he stood. Avyna tensed, calling on her ice magic as a precaution and Xalcher paused. “I cannot harm you, Avyna; your magic is unnecessary.”

Avyna scoffed. “I know better than to trust you. Either get to the point or I am leaving now and you will never see me again.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “I cannot see you now, sister, so that threat will not work on me.” Her lip curled at his forced attempt at humor, a low growl rumbling from her chest. “You sound like one of them,” he murmured as he stepped closer to her, feeling out the floor. His hands grasped the iron rods of his prison and he leaned against them. “If I recall, the last time I saw you, you stood about here,” he gestured, his hand trailing at her eye level across the bars. Sightless green eyes, clouded from his injuries, pinpointed her gaze, staring right at her. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology,” she spat, throwing her hands at the iron in anger and leaning in a few inches from his face. “I want a reason.”

He did not flinch, his gaze flickering down to where he could feel her anger radiating from her eyes. “A reason for what?”

“All of it,” she snarled. “Why would you throw your lot in with Mainke and Kerith? To see me killed? To see my family destroyed? What was your reason?”

“Kerith threatened my sons. He has them in custody and if I did not cooperate, he was going to string them up and flay them alive.”

She inhaled sharply. Her eyes searched his face, at the impassiveness of his gaze and she shook her head. “Lies. You never cared about family before; why would you start now?”

“I have cared only for family, from the start!” he countered hotly.

“You aided that madman in killing my son!” she screeched, her voice echoing off the walls. That did cause her estranged brother to flinch, his eyes lowering as he opened his mouth. Likely to apologize, but Avyna would not have it. “Your help allowed him to kill my father-in-law—“

“The man who tried to kill you as a child, you mean,” Xalcher retorted.

“The man who took me in when you murdered our mother and framed me for the crime!”

“Everything I did, I did to keep you safe!”

“And killing everyone who ever disagreed with you was the way to go about it? Did you really think so little of me? That I could not protect myself?” she asked, but there was no real question in her voice. She did not expect an answer and she sighed, her breath gusting between the bars.

“Avyna…” Xalcher whispered. “You never gave me the chance to explain all those years ago.” He moved his hand and lightly brushed his fingertips over the knuckles that were clenched around the bars of his cell. She stiffened at the contact, her magic flaring involuntarily and Xalcher felt the familiar crackle of angry astral energy flicker over his skin. “I mean you no harm, Your Majesty, I swear that. Will you permit me to explain, now? Will you hear my words?”

“What makes you think I will believe a word you say, traitor?”

“Only you can make that decision.”

She glared at her brother’s sightless eyes, the injury she had caused him all those centuries before, and exhaled sharply. “Speak.”

***********

I wrote this a couple weeks ago and I've been staring at the ending ever since wondering if I should add more to it. And maybe I should. But I haven't figured out how to say it yet.

Xalcher is a very complicated and intruiging character. I wouldn't call him a true villain, per se, but he most certainly is not a hero by any definition. He is a man who believed in his cause, believed that everyone else remained intentionally blind go injustice, and it took him down a very dark path.