joshua 'and i said no' rosfield (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rosarianrebirth) wrote2024-02-09 09:25 am
rosarianrebirth) wrote2024-02-09 09:25 am
Entry tags:
Young Rulers AU
Joshua has not been able to sleep much, since that night. Not much, anyway.
He knows that he needs the rest, he knows far too well that he needs to be able to think, but the nightmares will not go away. So he swallows the exhaustion down, swallows the cold down, too, reaching for tendrils of the Phoenix's power to keep his body from succumbing to illness when the young Archduke of Rosaria had things to do.
Things had happened... so quickly. Betrayal, Father's blood, hot on his face, the realization of failure in his assigned duty. To protect his Father. The Phoenix using his rising emotions and his shock to take over, and obliterating those who were threatening him, Joshua's own grieving, overwhelmed mind wrapped in white-hot fury.
Then, slowly, Clive's voice, calling to him. The Phoenix saw something different in him, and the pause was enough for Clive's concern, his love, to reach Joshua. And so he flew away, high in the sky, to come to terms with his Eikon. With his loss. Without anyone getting hurt additionally.
He did not have the strength to stay Primed for too long, and, soon enough, he was landing against the ruins of the fortress.
There was Clive rushing towards him, and Joshua flinched. "I am covered in blood--"
That did not matter. He got held, and, finally, the tears came. Great racking sobs that he felt like would never end. But they had to, because people in cowled robes came, and he straightened, tensing, ready for a fight, before they all --
They all knelt before him. "Your Grace." After a moment, Clive knelt, too, and the Lord Commander behind him. Joshua stared, barely taller than their bent bodies, and even though somehow he couldn't take proper breath, he straightened, the responsibility he had all his life known would be his settling around him, and he knew he had to talk to them. And he did. He still doesn't remember what he said, but it seemed to be enough.
What followed was somehow worse. Hours and hours of combing through the fortress, and seeing all the dead. There were highlights still, those who had escaped with not that much damage, like Sir Wade, and even those who needed tending, including the Phoenix's healing, but alive.
When Sanbrequoix knights came to 'aid' in the rainy morning, Joshua met them to the last shock of the long, long night. His Mother came with them. She rushed to him, trying to embrace him, but he stepped back, the Phoenix rising to a semi-prime.
"Mother. Please attend me. We will need to speak, later."
Between the survivors and the Undying, there was no question of the Knights taking him in their custody. He firmly refused any additional aid, and when his Mother tried to argue, he called her traitor, under his breath. That gave her pause. He still could feel the suffocating fury at the thought of her. He almost ordered her execution.
Clive talked him out of it. They are still discussing it.
Joshua Rosfield, Archduke of Rosaria, returned to Rosalith attended only by Rosarians. It was a sad journey back, but they needed to return, to regroup. And he needed... the little privacy that his quarters could afford.
It was a good thing that Lord Commander Murdoch was with them. He set to rallying the city's defenses. When the Ironbloods came, Rosalith was ready for them.
And so was the Phoenix.
And so...
So was Ifrit.
There was not much joy or even satisfaction for Joshua since that night, but knowing that his brother was not 'passed over' by the Phoenix, but rather a Dominant in his own right? That made sense to him. A strong one, too, for all the shock that the presence of a second Eikon of Fire gave to all.
Drake's Breath was Rosaria's again. That brought him no joy, for it still meant sacrifices, but he knew Father thought it necessary, and he trusted him still. Always would trust him. But he also knew that there would be attacks, the Iron Kingdom would strongly attempt to retake it, and it would need to be defended.
His mind has gotten used to trying to put all his knowledge, and all the knowledge of his Father's advisors, and all Clive's - and Jill's - wisdom, to understand what needs to be done, where, and why. He is far too young to rule alone. But he is the Dominant of the Phoenix. He can no longer allow himself to be a child, protected, defended, precious... and useless.
Today, there is another difficulty to face. It doesn't look like one. A letter, really. But it's almost impossible for him to reach and open it.
For it is from Dion. Dion Lesage. The son of the man whose soldiers slaughtered Rosarians at Phoenix Gate. The Dominant of Bahamut. Joshua's peer, in age, and in early awakening to the Eikon within him, and so, so dear to Joshua from the short time they spent together. He thought... his friend.
But what if-- what if he has been wrong? What if he has trusted where he should not, as his Father did?
Joshua coughs into his handkerchief, rubs his tired eyes with the back of his hand, and then reaches for the letter.
He can't afford to be betrayed. But he can't afford to be hesitant and indecisive, either. Or afraid.
He knows that he needs the rest, he knows far too well that he needs to be able to think, but the nightmares will not go away. So he swallows the exhaustion down, swallows the cold down, too, reaching for tendrils of the Phoenix's power to keep his body from succumbing to illness when the young Archduke of Rosaria had things to do.
Things had happened... so quickly. Betrayal, Father's blood, hot on his face, the realization of failure in his assigned duty. To protect his Father. The Phoenix using his rising emotions and his shock to take over, and obliterating those who were threatening him, Joshua's own grieving, overwhelmed mind wrapped in white-hot fury.
Then, slowly, Clive's voice, calling to him. The Phoenix saw something different in him, and the pause was enough for Clive's concern, his love, to reach Joshua. And so he flew away, high in the sky, to come to terms with his Eikon. With his loss. Without anyone getting hurt additionally.
He did not have the strength to stay Primed for too long, and, soon enough, he was landing against the ruins of the fortress.
There was Clive rushing towards him, and Joshua flinched. "I am covered in blood--"
That did not matter. He got held, and, finally, the tears came. Great racking sobs that he felt like would never end. But they had to, because people in cowled robes came, and he straightened, tensing, ready for a fight, before they all --
They all knelt before him. "Your Grace." After a moment, Clive knelt, too, and the Lord Commander behind him. Joshua stared, barely taller than their bent bodies, and even though somehow he couldn't take proper breath, he straightened, the responsibility he had all his life known would be his settling around him, and he knew he had to talk to them. And he did. He still doesn't remember what he said, but it seemed to be enough.
What followed was somehow worse. Hours and hours of combing through the fortress, and seeing all the dead. There were highlights still, those who had escaped with not that much damage, like Sir Wade, and even those who needed tending, including the Phoenix's healing, but alive.
When Sanbrequoix knights came to 'aid' in the rainy morning, Joshua met them to the last shock of the long, long night. His Mother came with them. She rushed to him, trying to embrace him, but he stepped back, the Phoenix rising to a semi-prime.
"Mother. Please attend me. We will need to speak, later."
Between the survivors and the Undying, there was no question of the Knights taking him in their custody. He firmly refused any additional aid, and when his Mother tried to argue, he called her traitor, under his breath. That gave her pause. He still could feel the suffocating fury at the thought of her. He almost ordered her execution.
Clive talked him out of it. They are still discussing it.
Joshua Rosfield, Archduke of Rosaria, returned to Rosalith attended only by Rosarians. It was a sad journey back, but they needed to return, to regroup. And he needed... the little privacy that his quarters could afford.
It was a good thing that Lord Commander Murdoch was with them. He set to rallying the city's defenses. When the Ironbloods came, Rosalith was ready for them.
And so was the Phoenix.
And so...
So was Ifrit.
There was not much joy or even satisfaction for Joshua since that night, but knowing that his brother was not 'passed over' by the Phoenix, but rather a Dominant in his own right? That made sense to him. A strong one, too, for all the shock that the presence of a second Eikon of Fire gave to all.
Drake's Breath was Rosaria's again. That brought him no joy, for it still meant sacrifices, but he knew Father thought it necessary, and he trusted him still. Always would trust him. But he also knew that there would be attacks, the Iron Kingdom would strongly attempt to retake it, and it would need to be defended.
His mind has gotten used to trying to put all his knowledge, and all the knowledge of his Father's advisors, and all Clive's - and Jill's - wisdom, to understand what needs to be done, where, and why. He is far too young to rule alone. But he is the Dominant of the Phoenix. He can no longer allow himself to be a child, protected, defended, precious... and useless.
Today, there is another difficulty to face. It doesn't look like one. A letter, really. But it's almost impossible for him to reach and open it.
For it is from Dion. Dion Lesage. The son of the man whose soldiers slaughtered Rosarians at Phoenix Gate. The Dominant of Bahamut. Joshua's peer, in age, and in early awakening to the Eikon within him, and so, so dear to Joshua from the short time they spent together. He thought... his friend.
But what if-- what if he has been wrong? What if he has trusted where he should not, as his Father did?
Joshua coughs into his handkerchief, rubs his tired eyes with the back of his hand, and then reaches for the letter.
He can't afford to be betrayed. But he can't afford to be hesitant and indecisive, either. Or afraid.
The Letter (After Phoenix Gate)
Dion had been away from Oriflamme at the time, and his first instinct had been to ask after the Rosfield brothers and Lady Warrick, and he had been in a right tizzy until he'd been assured that they were alive and relatively well, only to be slightly shell-shocked to learn of Archduke Elwin's death.
He had not dared write then. Rosaria was grieving and still going at war with the Ironbloods, and in the mess of the Archduchy gaining control of its Mothercrystal again had come the news.
'A second eikon of fire!'
Dion had seen the adults around him look worried at that news. Rosaria had two eikons? Both of its princes blessed with such power? Suddenly, the western duchy was not as small a player on the world map anymore, even if their current ruler was only ten years old, and their routing of the Ironbloods only confirmed it. Dion had even heard some whispers he deemed completely crazy, some old cardinal wondering if the Duchy might not follow up on its streak and attack the Empire. He'd mocked the very idea to his tutor, who had seemed to agree with him. The war against the Ironbloods had bene in motion before the Phoenix Gate incident, and Rosaria had only finished what they had started. Attacking the Empire now would not benefit them. They still needed to rebuild, and to grieve.
Young as he was, preoccupied with studies and the beginning of military training, Dion was kept away from most of the discussions surrounding what was happening, but it was not like you could keep a precocious and smart child completely away, and after the flames of war had died down again on Rosalith, he'd made the decision to write to Joshua Rosfield. He hadn't asked permission for this, and had asked his tutor to find someone trustworthy to send the letter instead of using an imperial guard. If you had asked him why, Dion might not have been able to articulate why it had felt safer this way, just that it had. He felt uneasy, as if somethings were happening in the shadows that even Bahamut's light could not reach, and it made him cautious.
The envelope on Joshua's desk bears Dions elegant writing, the words flowing from his quill. 'To His Grace Joshua Rosfield'. It bears Dion's personal seal, not that of the Imperial house. And Dion spent a long time composing it.
'My friend,
I would still call you such, even knowing that you now bear a title you never wished to be yours so soon. When next we meet, it will feel strange to call you 'Your Grace', and I can only imagine how heavy those words are and how they come at the cost of great sorrow for you, your brother and your people.
I barely could breathe when I heard of what happened at Phoenix Gate, and I suspect the accounts I have heard to be extremely softened and pared down. No one here seems to be willing to tell me much, and I have had to resort to eavesdropping simply to catch any sort of information, although I refused to rest until I could be assured that yourself, your brother and Lady Warrick were safe and sound. It grieved me to hear of your father's passing, and in such a fashion that seems to speak of betrayal inside our own borders.
I shall not say more here, for fear this letter might be intercepted, but the Imperial Court is very uneasy about the whole affair, and I know not who to safely speak to. I keep being told I am too young to preoccupy myself with such things, and that I should focus on my studies instead. But you have no such choice and I wish it were not so.
Your brother too must be going through a lot. After all these years, to discover that he too carries the power of an eikon, and one that no one seems to have heard of before! It certainly is the talk of the town. People here seem worried about it, and it worries me that they are. If we are allies, should they not rejoice that your forces are strengthened? That they do not speaks to me of something dark that I cannot quite understand yet. In any case, I am sure your brother was as shocked as anyone else, and it must be difficult for him to adjust. There is so much on your shoulders already, but it is lucky that he has you by his side who knows what it means to carry such a weight.
I know not when we will see each other again. You will be busy in the coming months, too busy probably to entertain a visit that I do not know I would be allowed to make anyway. But our countries professed friendship not that long ago, and we professed it between ourselves as well. I do not take such an oath lightly, although I do not know what I could possibly do to help you at this time.
I have made provision for this letter to be sent by people I trust who do not belong to the Imperial House. If necessary, it might be easier to communicate via stolas to ensure no interception, although it might be presumptuous of me to expect an answer any time soon.
I pray that Greagor's light will protect you and your brother, and Rosaria, in the trying times ahead. Would that there was more I could but some words on a page. They feel very inadequate, but they are all I have. For now.
Faithfully yours,
Dion Lesage.'
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After he is done, he curls in on himself, waving away maid's concern as gently as he can. It takes a long time before he calms down, then he asks if the person who brought the letter is still in the Keep, and if they are, that they wait a few hours for him to compose an answer. If Dion can trust this way of sending letters, then it would be wiser to not reply via an official channel. If the messenger has left... Joshua will ask the Undying for a way to deliver the message.
He still has tasks to take care of before he can take the time to reply, but he will not delay much.
His own handwriting is neat and flowing, if not very ornate, though he has been told it probably will be.
My friend,
I am sorry that I have not written before. It has been difficult, to know where to turn. After that night, nothing feels the same. Nothing is the same.
I am afraid that I will confirm your worst guesses, but you may need to know just how cautious you need to be. The men who snuck into the fortress were Sanbrequoiq. A dragoon knight fought Clive. The men who killed my Father were Rosarian. In the morning, a detachment of Sanbrequoix knights came to observe the situation, and my Mother came with them.
She has been detained. I do not know if I can ever forgive her. But there are many things that I do not know, and I have realized that far better than I ever could, before. There never seems to be enough time, but I hope that will ease as I learn more, so I can become the leader that is needed in these times.
Clive is as well as can be expected. I think his awakening is closer to when it happens for most, in truth, it is you and I who are the exception. But he was put to much questioning after I was revealed to be what I am, and all the scorn he was subjected to now being wrong feels as it should. But his Eikon has much fury, perhaps because of how he awakened in the middle of war, and we have not much knowledge about his Eikon at all. So we are trying to understand what it means, in the middle of it all.
Jill has been unharmed, beyond being subjected to whatever my Mother has managed to do, for these years, and while I have not yet broached the subject to her if she may wish to return home, I hope she stays. She is a comfort to Clive, and I selfishly wish to grant him all the good things in the world. But while I understand why Father took her as he did, and he never made her feel as lesser than us, nor spared an effort to make her stay here comfortable, it is only fair that she can choose her own fate.
Dion, my words cannot convey how much your letter, your wishes, and your compassion have meant for me. I have not been alone, but - the kind of friends you and I became, I have never known. The thought that you might be lost to me was excruciating, and now I feel strong enough to face the days before me again.
Please, stay well. Be cautious, for I know not where near you there are those would sow seeds of discord between our countries are, but they can't be too far.
I am sorry that I have little in good news to share, but know that my regard for you is strong, and my wish to be close to you again is unquenchable.
Rosaria will endure. I will make sure of it, whatever it may take. And I hope the union that was pledged the day that we met will endure also.
Please stay safe, as much as possible. I will attempt to send word if there are changes.
Yours, with all my heart,
Joshua Rosfield.
He reads and rereads it a dozen times, but he cannot think of how to soften the blows, or, perhaps, he is too tired to do so.
He sends it, in the most discreet way possible. Even as he calls on some of his Father's advisors to compose a more formal missive to Dion's father. Who, he has been told, is on his way to being elected Emperor by his peer Cardinals. One has mentioned it was on account of fathering the Dominant of Bahamut, and Joshua did not know how to feel.
But he did not lie in the letter. Knowing that Dion was not part of what happened has made him stronger. Or, at least, made him feel stronger.
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Dion is happy to get an answer so soon. He had not expected that at all. Joshua was a head of state now, still grieving his father and having to deal with whatever was at the root of the Phoenix Gate incident... Dion could not be a priority of his and he understood that well. Yet Joshua wrote back almost immediately.
Dion read the letter so many times that he is certain he has learned it by heart. And once it was committed to memory, he burned it. What Joshua revealed to him is too dangerous for it to ever be found out. It confirms every vague feeling of unease Dion has been feeling since the incident in a way that makes his insides twist.
Duchess Anabella conspired with a Sanbrequois faction to kill her husband. That doesn't make any sense that Dion can understand. But Joshua would not mistake armor from Sanbreque. And a dragoon knight was there as well? This, more than anything, startled Dion. He hasn't started training with the dragoons yet, but he will be expected to in a year or two. And he will be their commander. He has already started learning about them, he has met some of them, to give them the blessing of Bahamut. And yet...
And yet no one has informed him that one of the Knights has been killed in action while being hostile in a country that is supposed to be an ally. It takes Dion some sneaky investigating to find out which Knight it was. And then... it might be petty of him, but it's easy enough for him to bring the man up and ask after him, only for some very uncomfortable attendants to have to tell him the man is dead, and be struck dumb when he demands an explanation.
He does get scolded by his father for this, but Sylvestre is too busy to bother about his son trying to find things out that he should not. He has officially been elected Emperor now, although there will be no coronation until after Archduke Elwin's official funeral and a period of mourning, as is appropriate since Sanbreque and Rosaria are allies. And so Dion finds himself an Imperial Prince now, and even more unsure of who he can trust.
He brought Terence into his confidence almost immediately of course. And his tutor, Master Harpocrates, who hasn't shied either from his questions or from his tears after a panicked Dion showed him Joshua's letter, but has also urged caution. Everyone now goes around being even more deferential and calling Dion 'Your Highness', and he doesn't know what to feel about it all.
Who in Sanbreque tried to plot to destabilize Anabella? And how can he protect himself from them? Soon, he will start military training, and he will have to gauge the dragoons, see if they can be trusted...
Deep inside of him, the dragon is vigilant. Cautious. On days where Dion cannot speak to Terence or his master, he talks to him.
And he keeps writing to Joshua.
Maybe some would consider it a betrayal of Sanbreque, to have their prince send word of the Imperial Court to a foreign power. Dion considers it his duty both as a friend and an ally.
In each letter, he asks after Clive and Jill. He dares not ask about Anabella although some rumors come all the way to Oriflamme. People are scandalized and titillated to learn she is under house arrest by order of her own son, but it seems the involvement of people from Sanbreque still isn't common knowledge.
So Dion watches, and waits. Most probably, there will be a funeral service for Elwin Rosfield, and if Dion insists on going, his father will not refuse him.
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When the next procession for Father's interment comes, he does not ask for Dion to be there. That, he knows, would give leverage against them both, or get Dion into trouble. But he can hope, even though that is very difficult as the dreams get worse, with thinking about what he will say about him, and what others will say about him at the ceremony.
The day comes, and the representatives from Sanbreque and Dhalmekia arrive, and a familiar blond head is there, and that is enough for the moment. He will find a way to steal a bit of time with Dion later, but there is much to do before that, and his health has been testing him.
After a time... or two... when he has lost his temper due to the exhaustion, and Clive has had to talk him down from doing unwise things, he is keeping a very tight rein on ... anything but what he must do. So he stands there, very small and rather pale, but his motions and words are certain.
He is not the child he used to be, as he knew he could not afford to be. Though few of those gathered are likely to take him seriously, he will do his best. Mostly keeping quiet - outside of the assigned times for speeches, which he keeps as short as permissible but does earnestly and solemnly - and listening, and learning. There is always so much to learn.
But, eventually, the guests retire to his quarters, and he has a bit of time. Others have made it possible for him to have time to rest, rather than try to make decisions that would determine the future of people, and he is grateful.
Dion, on the other hand, will find a brief, unsigned note in his quarters. If you wish to, Jote can take you to me.
The Undying have assigned the young girl to him, and while he would not dream of putting her to duties that a child that age should not shoulder - yes, he is aware of the irony of that thought - he knows he can trust her, and there are very few things he needs more trust about. She can be a messenger and guide, and knows the Keep more than well enough to make the traversal of two (or three, Joshua isn't sure if Dion would come alone) children, even if one of them is a visiting prince, inconspicuous.
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Terence is not allowed to accompany him, his rank judged too low for such an occasion even as Dion's personal attendant. And so Dion rides alone with his father in a carriage that feels too soft and plush, and is quiet and obedient.
When they arrive, he is stricken by how pale and frail Joshua looks. He was always a sickly child, but the past months have taken their toll while Dion cannot imagine what it is like exactly, he knows the exhaustion of having to play your part to the perfection. Add that on top of grief and the weight of a country, and it is no wonder Joshua looks exhausted.
Dion did not expect to be able to see him right away, and given that this is Rosalith, he believes Joshua will find a way and indeed, he finds the note, and asks someone to send this Jote to his quarters. He did not expect her to be a child, even younger than him. He follows her through secret passages and dark corridors, until she raps on a door, waits for an answer inside, then opens it to let him pass.
Dion takes off the hood of the cloak he put on over his clothes to look less conspicuous, looking around the room. It is wide, and quite dark. The Rosalith castle is made of darker stone than the one in Oriflamme. There's a fire roaring, bringing the temperature of this room much higher than the outside. Probably because Joshua is sick.
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"Thank you, Jote." A deep breath. "I will be safe with him."
"Your Grace, the Empire..."
"It is all right. Please."
She makes a very hesitant face, but, after a moment, she bows and slips out, closing the door from the outside.
Then Joshua finally turns properly to his guest, stepping closer, then hesitating, for a moment, eyes fixed on the face that glows in the firelight beneath the pale-gold hair.
"Di--" He hesitates. But they are alone. "Dion. Well come."
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He can see, too, Joshua's hesitation. The letters they have exchanged have cemented the trust between them no doubt, but still, they have not seen each other in a long time. They have both grown a little. But from up close, Joshua looks even worse than earlier in the day.
And then a glint catches Dion's eyes. the flames of the fire playing on a chain of silver and turquoises, hanging from Joshua's belt. And it's like something clicks and he comes forward and engulfs Joshua in a hug, closing his arms carefully around the too frail body and holding him close.
"... I am so sorry."
The words are whispered, and Dion cannot say what he is sorry for. Elwin's death, his country's obvious involvement in it, his own powerlessness to protect anyone he holds dear from the plots swirling around them...
There isn't much he can do for now, but offering some support to a dear friend, that he can do.
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He hesitates for so many reasons. It has not been that long since they first met, but so, so much has happened. And while the letters have let him know Dion can be trusted, he has no idea where the boundaries of it all are. It is something he has run into many a time in these months, on top of the more global picture - that each person that he has known, he needs to build a new connection with, and it isn't the same. Even Clive, though Clive understands best of all. But Clive has his own changes to deal with, and Joshua can help with some things rather than ask of him.
But Dion crosses the distance and holds him and Joshua can't help reaching back, melting against him and holding on to the back of his clothes, his own black against Dion's pale, white. He is shaking, or, perhaps, shivering despite the warmth. He doesn't cry, barely, but his breath hitches at the apology.
-- and, for a long, long moment, he can't say anything. Just holds on.
Eventually, he manages to find himself again. "Th-thank you." Deep breath, and he leans a little back to look at him - he looks... stronger. Healthy. That is good. But Joshua doesn't really let go. "Thank you for coming. I - I was pretty sure that if I asked, it would make things worse. Except making things better is not nearly that easy."
Another deep breath, and he inclines his head towards the red, plush sofa.
"Come, sit. You have traveled far."
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And Dion doesn't need to explain why this is something that makes alarm bells ring in his heart as well. He adores his father, but Sylvestre has let his political ambition come before his own these last few years. Or rather, he's been using his son in service of his ambitions, and successfully so since he has managed to grab the imperial throne. Dion can't quite say when he realized his father's love for him was conditional to him being obedient and doing what was asked of him to secure his father's position, but it was at an age where a child should be assured of his parents' unconditional love.
He follows Joshua to the sofa but doesn't let go of his hand as they walk and then sit.
"A lot of things have changed in Sanbreque too. There are few people I can trust, just like you. I am glad you have your brother with you, and Commander Murdoch. The Lord Commander was a friend of your father's, he will be of good counsel, I am sure."
And... whoever else protects him from the shadows. Dion noticed a few hooded figures who probably looked inconspicuous enough in the crowd, but these days, he tries to keep an eye on as much as he can.
"... What of your mother? Has she explained herself?"
He dreads the answer almost as much as he dreaded asking the question.
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"Then it will be better if we spend time together at the banquet tomorrow, and probably publicly over the next few days, as well." Slow blink. "Did you have time to eat, or are you hungry? There are things about which I keep track of time, but some, I sometimes don't remember to pay attention to."
A slow nod, to the next part. "There are those who had, have, faith in the world that my Father wanted to create, and as long as I stay the course, they will not even consider turning against the duchy that they love. And then there are some whose lives are dedicated to the Phoenix. They will protect me, whatever it may cost them." He swallows. "Jote is among them. She was given over by her mother, when it was discovered she is a bearer. She is... so young. But was assigned to me, and I try to keep things ... normal, as much as possible, for her."
Which does mean that, so long as the Phoenix will not be harmed, Dion can trust her for messages and guidance here. Much less suspicious than an adult, after all.
Then the blue eyes drop. "I will admit I have not gone to talk to her much. I was... so angry, that day. Clive had to stop me from ..." He trails off. "And I have been too tired to come even close to matching her in conversation."
He has limitations. He understands them, or at least tries to.
"None have tried to reach her personally since. We... shall see if anyone does, now." When there are foreigners welcomed in the Rosalith Castle.
"It will be important to have her answers, but at this time, I cannot do anything with them. There are many answers to find, like how is what happened to Clive possible. I think... with Drake's Breath retaken, we need to take time to recover."
And that is not a royal 'we' in any way. He means the country, the people.
"But I won't have us taken by surprise again. This... this was my promise, in my heart, today." To his Father.
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When Joshua admits to his anger towards his mother, Dion squeezes his hand and then goes to put and arm around his shoulders.
"It hasn't been easy for me to find things out but... I have been keeping my ears and eyes open, and I have ways of listening that I don't think many people in the Imperial Palace realize I can do. But so far, everyone has been so preoccupied with my father's getting the Imperial throne that Rosaria is a distant concern. People gossip about your mother's involvement, and also about the second Eikon of Fire, and there is some unrest about that but I think in the coming month, my father will be to busy consolidating his own power tor anything major to happen. Officially at least."
Given that this clearly had been plotted for a while, there must have been people in the shadows, and there is no reason why they would not still be there, biding their time.
"... I will be leaving Oriflamme soon, to start training with the dragoons. I won't be able to hear as much. But I will be freer to correspond with you. There will be less scrutiny over my every action, and I will have more leave to move around as I wish, as long as it's reasonable."
So, he won't be able to hear as much useful information directly... that is, unless he cultivates his own network of trusted people.
"I wish there was more I could do to help. If Sanbreque was indeed involved in this attack, and there are many signs she was, I cannot stand for it."
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His other hand rises, to forestall argument. "I don't mean that I expect you to abandon me. But... from what I know, training will be very demanding, and if your attention in divided, you may put yourself and others in danger." And he does not want that.
His brother taught him, that sometimes people need to, or will, put themselves into danger, for a reason, like the way Clive left to clear the worst of the enemies from the Phoenix Gate that night, along with Lord Commander Murdoch. But getting hurt during training would be useless, senseless, and dangerous.
"What happened has made us very careful. There is ... very great likelihood that more attempts will be made." He doesn't point out that he saw the Sanbrequoix armor himself. He doesn't think it will help anything if he says it. However damning the evidence, as he said, there is not much that he can do. Not when he is ten, and, despite being a Dominant, considered certainly... less wise and capable than the rest of the heads of state. But one thing he is certain he can manage. They can manage. "We will be ready, next time. We will not get hurt like this again." Besides... however damning the evidence, there may be more players in the shadows, and pointing fingers will only increase the danger, rather than the opposite.
"But there is so, so much to learn. About many things. So it would stand to reason for you to focus on your studies, historical and political and military all. This will help. And... knowing that you are safe will help, too." Beat. Before he flushes slightly. "That last part will help me, that is."
There is also no uncertainty in Joshua's mind, nor his words, about whether Dion would be good at the training he will undertake. Just as he had faith in Clive, always, he has faith in Dion, also. They are strong, in ways that he is not. But he knows he can be strong enough, too, so long as he never falls into the trap of complacency and ignorance again.
He starts to add something, but then has to press his hand to his mouth as coughing wracks him once more, leaving him glaring at a wall because he can't glare at himself. Not without a mirror, at least.
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The fact that Joshua wants him safe makes his chest feel warm, too, in a weird, but pleasant way.
But before he even has time to reassure Joshua that he will e intent in his studies, Joshua starts coughing and Dion immediately feels worried again. Joshua is not well, and so any things have been asked of him today, and will be asked in the coming days or months.
He starts rubbing Joshua's back comfortingly.
"My friend, you are exhausted. Today was a long day, you need your rest. Where is your bedchamber?"
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Ignore the lack of baby icons okok plz and ty
He has to, of course, and he will, but these months have passed by in a whirlwind of chaos and death and flames. Rosaria still stands and he knows he's played no small part in the matter. He wishes it was just his sword arm and anger that drove the Ironblood away, that all but obliterated them.
Nothing is ever that easy for him.
Before, at this time of night he would go out on the castle balcony for fresh air and watch the moon. Sometimes Jill would join him. There was peace in those moments, when the moon looked down on them with her gentle light. Now, he looks up and sees a cold, uncaring celestial body. He can't leave the castle walls because Joshua could need him at any moment. And then there is the reminder outside of the battle. Once verdant land, so green and rich, now lays scarred.
There is a massive blemish not far from the gates. The grass burned away and ground leveled from some monstrous mass.
Him. It was him.
After the battle, when that...that beast had finished, Clive surveyed the damage. Everything smelled of ash, his mouth was thick with it. There were so many bodies that had been reduced to charred corpses.
Some, Clive could still recognize as Rosarian.
He couldn't run fast enough to find some secluded place, anywhere that would keep curious and terrified eyes off of him. Clive doesn't know how long his body heaved until all the contents of his stomach were expelled, until only bile burned his throat on the way up.
No, now there is no refuge. Everywhere feels wrong. Everyone is busy trying to keep the duchy afloat amid the tragedy of Elwin Rosfield's death and the betrayal of it all.
And yet, Clive finds himself down in the crypts, seeking out the only man whom he felt ever truly understood him. A man now dead. He's never felt so alone. He can't do this.
Clive stands next to his stone coffin, hands hesitant to grip the lid of it. Usually it would be adorned with a sculpted image of the dearly departed, but there hasn't been time. This wasn't planned. Maybe someone will get around to it one day.
He sinks down and rests his back against the cold stone. Down here the light is dim, flickering torches and candles all that provide. The air is damp and musty. Clive thinks he could disappear down here if he were quiet enough. If he sat perfectly still.
It's tempting, but he can't do either, apparently. He rests he head back against the stone and looks up into the darkness, voice cracking and echoing as he speaks.
"There's something wrong with me, Father. There's always been something wrong with me."
with pleasure but now I can do this for visual....
He does not know how to help. But Clive has never abandoned him, not even for a moment, and Joshua doesn't even consider asking anyone else to try to help. This is his brother. He has to find a way to ease him.
When he approaches, he doesn't light up a fireball, the smell of ash making him cautious, the memories of burned bodies from Phoenix Gate, ones that the Phoenix incinerated, far too vivid to not understand how fire might be the last thing that would help, just now.
Words, on the other hand...
No, not even that. Softly, but not silently, he steps closer to his brother and reaches to soothe his hair from his face. He has words and arguments, but they can wait. Especially if Clive needs to say more.
my feelios!!!
But when he sees it is Joshua who has dared disturb him, all his anger dissipates. Well, all his anger except the little bit directed at himself for being so selfish. Still, he allows his brother to touch him and offer up what comfort he can. It doesn't add up to much in the grand scheme of things, but right now it knocks something loose in him and, as Clive looks up at his little brother in the low light, his vision blurs and tears start to fall unhindered.
Clive turns away and brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, digging them in hard. Stop. Stop crying.
"Sorry. Dust in my eye." It's a poor excuse, made all the more obvious by how his erratic breathing and how he bunches up his shoulders, as if trying to hide.
very appropriate you're making my heart ache.
"Don't--" He hesitates. Before, he knew that his brother would have known it for a request. Now, he worries that Clive may take it as an order, and a part of him feels ill at the thought. So he amends that, voice even quieter. "You don't have to hide from me."
For the first time... he wonders. The Phoenix can mend the flesh, but it cannot touch the spirit. How can he heal the spirit, the heart? There must be a way.
sorry not sorry
Clive has always tried to keep his feelings in check, to spare others his problems. When it comes to Joshua this is especially the case. Even from an early age, when Clive had only really begun to realize something wasn't right between him and his mother, he wanted to see Joshua smile. When his baby brother cried in the wet nurse's arms, it broke his heart, even if Joshua was simply hungry or tired, like babies get.
As they grew up - too quickly - Clive determined never to burden his brother with anything that would make Joshua feel even more guilt than he already did. They could commiserate about their mother, but that's about as much as Clive ever allowed.
But right now? He can't add to Joshua's plate. Even though he desperately wants to melt into that hug's warmth and cling to one of the only people in this damned world he knows he can trust, he doesn't. Even though his shoulders shake more and he won't stop crying despite making himself see stars and shapes with how hard he keeps pressing against his eyes, he holds back.
Or, at least he holds out at first. But the reminder if their dead father in a cold stone box at his back makes him realize how fleeting all their lives really are. Dominants or no, their bodies are so fragile and Joshua has never been particularly healthy.
He can't lose his brother. Not his brother. Please, never his brother.
Clive sobs and quickly wraps his arms around Joshua, tugging him close, even as he hides his face in his brother's chest. "Just...just don't look at me. Please."
yu-huh.
Instead, he shifts one arm, just enough that he can card fingers through Clive's hair. Immense as his grief and guilt are, there is one thing that is bigger. And that is his love. Love for Clive most of all. And also for their country, and even their realm. But it all starts with this one special, incredible person, who has been his support and guide and protector all of his life.
And if he can be the one lending strength, then so be it.
He lets Clive's crying take its time.
"You saved us. Again. Without knowing, without expecting, without training, you still did it."
He can't say that those who got killed are an acceptable price, because they are not. But he has to remind his brother that the tragedy was not all that happened.
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All the same, he doesn't know how long it takes to focus his breathing and calm his tears, but it eventually happens. Or at least enough that he can furiously wipe at his eyes with his tunic's sleeve. "It wasn't me." His voice is thick and Clive swallows. "I didn't have any control over that...that thing.
Ifrit. A second Eikon of fire. Something that shouldn't exist. A fiery beast that killed so many people, including their own men. Clive didn't have control, but that blood is still on his hands.
"I never want it to appear ever again."
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It wasn't me. I didn't have any control over that thing. The words cut through Joshua like a sword, a flaming one, and he tightens his hold on his brother, for the sake of comforting them both. Oh, how he understands that.
"Well. Rosaria has the Phoenix." So Clive doesn't have to call on his Eikon again. He understands, oh so well, the horror at the thought of priming again. He feels it, to the marrow of his bones. But he doesn't have a choice. Clive does, and Joshua will not take that from him. Not if he has a say in that.
"But even if it wasn't you, it wasn't not you, either. It went after the Ironbloods, mostly, moving in the direction you would have taken it if you had had control. So, while it having control caused damage, it still listened to you enough to turn against our enemies, instead of--" me "-- other targets."
He stays quiet for a moment, then breathes out.
"Selfishly... I would rather you to be you. Certainly not forcing yourself to be something else that you hate."
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Clive tenses up. No. No, that's not desirable, either. Joshua is so young, his little brother. Clive is supposed to protect him, not the opposite, even if that is the Phoenix's whole legacy in this family and nation.
It all made so much more sense when Father was still alive. He made the inevitable feel far enough away that Clive could still breathe a little. With Father around, Clive still felt safe. Now, the ground has given out beneath his feet and he's trying so hard to hold on and not fall into the gaping chasm below. His little brother has taken the throne before his voice has even started to crack, the one parent who loved him lies cold in a coffin while his hateful mother remains among the living despite probably being responsible for so much death, and now he's a rampaging beast that shouldn't exist, a freak of nature.
Everything is so, so wrong and all Clive can say while his breath comes up short again is, "Shit." The curse comes out quietly, almost hesitantly. Swearing doesn't yet come naturally to him, but now feels like the time.
Clive shakes his head and he tries extricate himself from Joshua's hold, at least enough that he can look at his brother in the dim light. "That's not... I didn't mean..." Why can't he say anything right? He shoves a hand into his hair roughly, leaving it a mess. "I'm still your Shield. I will still protect you and the Phoenix. You mustn't take on more for my sake."
The Phoenix mustn't burn itself out.
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In the dim light, the slightly hollowed-out look in Joshua's eyes is harder to see, but his raised eyebrows and small smile, a little too old for his face, are discernible.
"I am not taking on more. It was always my responsibility, wasn't it? You are my Shield, and I know you will protect me." Certain, and steady. Those are simple, immutable facts. "I know what it is like, to awaken and see what your Eikon has done, without your choice in the matter. Your duty lies elsewhere, not in having to endure that."
The Phoenix was always going to burn itself out. It is why their Father also had to take on the throne too young, though not quite so much so as Joshua. But that gives them time, all the same.
If...
If nothing else, big and horrifying, doesn't force him to burn too fast, of course.
But giving his brother the choice, that doesn't seem like a burden, or a threat, at all.
He places a hand on the side of his brother's face, gentle.
"It will be all right. We shall make it so."
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And Clive isn't helping.
He shakes his head and, careful not to shove Joshua off him brusquely, stands up. Takes a few steps away, then back, all while his hands hover uselessly. Finally, he runs them over his hair and laces his fingers together behind his neck, looking down at their father's coffin. Father would know what to do. He'd look at the whole situation and find the best option for everything and he'd do it with grace.
Clive looks at the coffin and the coffin coldly disregards him.
Clive has never truly wanted the Phoenix, aside from when he was very young, before Joshua was born, when he realized his mother would give him a second glance if he were what she wanted. But now, even though he knows he wouldn't know what to do, he wishes he were the Dominant just so Joshua could be spared all of this.
It should have been him. Why is he Ifrit instead?
Who is Ifrit?
"There's something wrong with me," he whispers. A breath in, a breath out, and Clive lowers his hands to the stone coffin again. "I don't know who - what I even am anymore." Ah, but Joshua doesn't need to see him having an existential crisis. He turns to his brother and shakes his head again.
"Sorry, I... Sorry. Don't listen to me."
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The way Mother does. His lips purse at the thought, unsure if he wants to do things as she does. But the truth alone doesn't help. So... what is he left with?
When Clive finally turns back to him, his eyebrows are scrunched with worry, but his eyes are steady, and his body is pulled as tall as he can be. "Y--" No. "I can tell you what I see. But I don't know that will help much, will it? But I have.. read... and been taught, that when a big change comes, a lot of people don't know who they are anymore. And so I think that it is ... all right? To not know. At least for a while." Apologetically. "I don't know how long, however."
He chews on his lip for a moment, then nods to himself, firmly.
"And I don't think there is anything wrong with you. There is something wrong with the world. It can't be right for a wife to betray her husband. It can't be right for all the lore to miss an entire eikon. It can't be right for someone like Father to ... just be ... gone." His voice trembles, throat tight, but he takes a deep breath and goes on. It's the best he can do. "So it may be like--" he flounders for a moment, trying to express what his thoughts suggest. "Like looking in a crooked mirror. Nothing is wrong with you, but what you see is wrong all the same. But the mirror is crooked, brother. There is something wrong with the world."