Zi'da 90, 717
"—we should go." His words were half-hearted, muttered with a reluctant laziness from under a barely tolerable thick layer of blankets in the bed that they shared, in the home that they'd spent half of Zi'da claiming as their own. The early morning had already drifted past without protest, the last of Zi'da's sunlight long and golden through the uppermost floor's windows of their bedroom, making everything feel cheerful and etherial instead of how the young Gawyne really felt inside. Eyes open, blue irises paled at the thoughts that drifted through his mind when he spoke, watching the face of the delicate pianist whose body had become so comfortable against his own.
But they had an appointment to keep.
Caius sighed then, the weight of the passing trials having swiftly and unexpectedly become heavier and heavier until it felt harder and harder to breathe because of fear, let alone smile—the promise of his natural end no longer a whisper but an agonizing groan in the back of his thoughts. The worry of death made real like the stiffness in his scarred shoulder and the ashen color of the cloak that declared his title to all of Andaris on the streets. As if the threat of murderous intentions at the hand of Valkyr wasn't enough for the pair, the young Gawyne was haunted by what he considered irrefutable, unarguable knowledge—the trial, break, bit, and trill of a death he felt powerless to stop because he didn't understand how it could happen naturally if he was neither ill nor in natural danger.
He'd already confessed his knowledge trials ago, and while he knew the blonde Venora was still suspicious of his watered down Immortal lineage and its so-called gift, Caius felt it. He knew for sure, and he felt as if he was drowning in too many emotions for too short a time,
"Darcyanna, I know it's not proper, but know it's actually official, that it will mean something to all of Rynmere. But, more importantly, it will mean something to us." The northern noble spoke quietly, sincerely, blinking slowly before stretching, unwilling to leave the warm comforts of bed because this forever was far more satisfactory than anything else. The delicate pianist had quickly become all he wanted in life, unexpectedly so. He'd spent so much time desperate to find ways to stop what he knew was coming—wasting time—that the season he'd had with Darcy hadn't been long enough.
Nothing was enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
Even if it was for only a trial, not knowing what tomorrow would bring, Caius longed to have all he could of the moment—just in case. It wasn't the first time he'd brought up the notion of eloping, of a private unofficial officiation of their willingness to commit to one another. He'd joked about it over the past fistful of ten-trials, always with a smile on his face, as if all of noble society would embrace such a scandalous notion—a clandestine ceremony—before the Church-mandated season of Saun and all the finery nobility required, all the finery the blonde Venora deserved.
"I don't care if it's madness or abuse of my power, but somehow the Empress has agreed to see us, to weigh my plea for our union." The young Gawyne realized that was perhaps his only selling point on their idea—the Empress herself!—but he couldn't help the powerful longing for a symbolic solidifying of his very real, very ridiculous feelings for Darcy, "Nor will anyone but us consider it real because they won't know about it, but I don't sarding care about that part."
Caius smirked, the hint of a smile on his face wary, aware this walked a strange line, aware that his honesty about his prophetic gift had been hurtful and strange. He didn't believe that Ziell was malicious in his gift, nor did he believe this knowledge was meant to be a burden, not really. Perhaps, had he not been so in love so late, it would have been a boon to know his natural end. But now, it just fucking hurt.
"We will be officially wed as if we'd done so before all the Kingdom in Saun, actually married, though of course no one but us and the Empress and her witnesses will be the wiser. We can dress as fancy as you like." There, for a trill or two, the northern noble let a wicked, conspiratory grin spread across his face, tone deviously convincing as he curled to kiss the delicate pianist purposefully, persuasively, despite his awareness that he already had everything he wanted here in the cozy space they shared,
"You can still say no, of course."
But they had an appointment to keep.
Caius sighed then, the weight of the passing trials having swiftly and unexpectedly become heavier and heavier until it felt harder and harder to breathe because of fear, let alone smile—the promise of his natural end no longer a whisper but an agonizing groan in the back of his thoughts. The worry of death made real like the stiffness in his scarred shoulder and the ashen color of the cloak that declared his title to all of Andaris on the streets. As if the threat of murderous intentions at the hand of Valkyr wasn't enough for the pair, the young Gawyne was haunted by what he considered irrefutable, unarguable knowledge—the trial, break, bit, and trill of a death he felt powerless to stop because he didn't understand how it could happen naturally if he was neither ill nor in natural danger.
He'd already confessed his knowledge trials ago, and while he knew the blonde Venora was still suspicious of his watered down Immortal lineage and its so-called gift, Caius felt it. He knew for sure, and he felt as if he was drowning in too many emotions for too short a time,
"Darcyanna, I know it's not proper, but know it's actually official, that it will mean something to all of Rynmere. But, more importantly, it will mean something to us." The northern noble spoke quietly, sincerely, blinking slowly before stretching, unwilling to leave the warm comforts of bed because this forever was far more satisfactory than anything else. The delicate pianist had quickly become all he wanted in life, unexpectedly so. He'd spent so much time desperate to find ways to stop what he knew was coming—wasting time—that the season he'd had with Darcy hadn't been long enough.
Nothing was enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
Even if it was for only a trial, not knowing what tomorrow would bring, Caius longed to have all he could of the moment—just in case. It wasn't the first time he'd brought up the notion of eloping, of a private unofficial officiation of their willingness to commit to one another. He'd joked about it over the past fistful of ten-trials, always with a smile on his face, as if all of noble society would embrace such a scandalous notion—a clandestine ceremony—before the Church-mandated season of Saun and all the finery nobility required, all the finery the blonde Venora deserved.
"I don't care if it's madness or abuse of my power, but somehow the Empress has agreed to see us, to weigh my plea for our union." The young Gawyne realized that was perhaps his only selling point on their idea—the Empress herself!—but he couldn't help the powerful longing for a symbolic solidifying of his very real, very ridiculous feelings for Darcy, "Nor will anyone but us consider it real because they won't know about it, but I don't sarding care about that part."
Caius smirked, the hint of a smile on his face wary, aware this walked a strange line, aware that his honesty about his prophetic gift had been hurtful and strange. He didn't believe that Ziell was malicious in his gift, nor did he believe this knowledge was meant to be a burden, not really. Perhaps, had he not been so in love so late, it would have been a boon to know his natural end. But now, it just fucking hurt.
"We will be officially wed as if we'd done so before all the Kingdom in Saun, actually married, though of course no one but us and the Empress and her witnesses will be the wiser. We can dress as fancy as you like." There, for a trill or two, the northern noble let a wicked, conspiratory grin spread across his face, tone deviously convincing as he curled to kiss the delicate pianist purposefully, persuasively, despite his awareness that he already had everything he wanted here in the cozy space they shared,
"You can still say no, of course."
❦
