forum "I would burn the world for you" (OxO Closed)

Started December 01, 2022 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

Nico nodded to Bel. A much needed talk, in Nico's opinion. While talking about his own thoughts would be difficult to convey, he mostly wanted to pick his partner's brain. He wanted to know what had been going on in his head that had led to him behaving that way this morning. He wanted to sit down in a calm environment and discuss things. But that also meant that he would have to share things. He wasn't mad that Bel was having a hard time sharing things with Nico. He found it equally as difficult, if not more so. But they had promised each other no more secrets. And so far, he had held up his end of the deal, it was time for Bel to honor that promise as well.

His hand rubbed Bel's shoulder, smiling down at him. He was trying to reassure Bel that he was alright. He was, alright that was. Just a little stuck in his head but nothing to worry about. Sometimes when he was left to his own thoughts, he tended to let it wander. Such as now. It was too quiet for him and all he could focus on were passing words and obsessively watching all the exits. Speaking of which, he turned his head to look at them all now.

One of the siblings, Treya, was speaking in a hushed voice that caught his attention. He turned his head to look at them just as Miran was demanding to know what they were speaking about. He had needed to finish surveying the restaurant and ensuring it was safe. He looked back at the table only for their little secret to get out.

Well, it was out in the open now. Nico at least had the decency to remove his hand from Bel's shoulder. He didn't particularly feel like tempting Miran to leap over the table and strange Nico. Or shove a knife in his eye. Or use the spoon to- He needed to stop thinking about the ways that Miran could kill him. It was setting him on edge more than he already was.

Under the table, he placed his hand on Bel's thigh, squeezing it in support. He was here for Bel, for better or for worse. Even if the worse meant dealing with his unsupportive siblings. He groaned quietly, making a face. "You're not really helping my case here, love." Telling Miran that Bel had originally said no was not the best thing he could have said right then. He would've bowed his head as well if it wasn't so satisfying to see Miran covering his face. It was entertaining to see him flustered.

He had no idea was Miran was muttering but he could take a guess. It likely had to do with all the things that Nico was. And he could think of more than a few things. "I didn't force him. I didn't coerce him. He said no, I respected it. And then he said yes, and well, I wasn't going to deny him." He could never deny Bel anything. He had Nico wrapped around his little finger.

Miran's heaa snaps up, eyes gleaming. "I never claimed you did any of that." His lip curls. Bel would not be upset if he just happened to disappear on the spot. Confrontation has, well, never been a strong suit of his, unlike his siblings who tend to thrive off of it. At least Val is quiet. She's just eating Miran's food silently, eyes flicking between speakers as she watches the scene unfold. "All I'm saying is that this entire situationhas happened all too quickly, and you all need to take a step back and truly analyze it all."

Bel just wants to hit his head against the table. There his brother goes, speaking and rambling like he's on the battlefield or in the war room and not in the middle of a restaurant with the potential to cause a scene. At least he's being quiet. At least he's not yelling. Miran doesn't yell often, but it never fails to stop Bel's heart when he does. Bel just wishes that his older brother could at least be supportive… (or maybe he's just looking out for Bel. It isn't every day your younger sister suddenly announces that your brother is getting married to a man he met two months prior. A dangerous, strategic man who's the leader of the enemy.)

"Bel, you are twenty-two." Miran steeples is fingers in front of his face as he stares at his brother. Bel shifts uncomfortably under the eldest's gaze. "The first time you set outside the kingdom grounds you were kidnapped and now you're in love with the man. They could have been kind and respectful and whatnot, but do you even know their true intentions?" Bel opens his mouth to object, already knowing that Nico won't take well to having his honor thrown around in that manner. "Bel." Miran's quick to stop him before he can start. "Are you sure this wasn't a psychological attachment you developed in captivity?"

And Bel hates that he knows exactly what Miran is referencing. He hates even more that he hasn't quite figured that out himself. "This isn't the time," is all Bel can manage before the waitress stops by with their drinks. "I'll–" He stops to take a breath. "I'll speak to you after." Perhaps then he would try to plead his case, but he knows how stubborn Miran can be. His opinion of Nico won't change just because Bel could vouch for him. Miran and Nico would have to spend at least some time together, at least learn how to get along for Bel's sake.

Across from him, Val stirs her drink, lips slightly pursed as she looks calmly between Nico, Bel, and Miran. Treya has her head in her hands, the tips of her ears slightly darker than the rest of her skin. Bel could almost grimace. He almost wants to believe Val brought this up just to have some entertainment with her meal, but Bel doesn't want to think that low of his sister. He just… can't believe why she chose now, in a public place with an audience instead of somewhere much quieter.

Nico did not like how this conversation was going. Analyze? This wasn't a battlefield were things needed to be analyzed. Even Nico knew that. While he wasn't always the best at separating the fight from the calm, even he could do a better job than this. He knew this wasn't the time nor the place to be having this conversation. And he couldn't for the life of him figure out why his sisters felt this was the perfect time to mention this. They were in public. They had an audience. And they were royals, like it or not. They needed to appear put together for the sake of all of them. If they were seen crumbling, how could the people put their faith in them? Even Nico knew public opinion mattered. They wouldn't follow them into battle if they saw the royal family falling apart over an engagement.

His jaw was clenched but he said nothing. He knew this wasn't the time to. If he stepped in, Bel might turn on him, and that was the last thing he wanted. Miran, he could handle. Mirna and Nico were like two sides of the same coin. They were bred for war and conflict and to rule. Bel, on the other hand, was not. He was soft and kind and the perfect half to Nico. He didn't know what he would have done if he hadn't met him. He didn't know where he would be. Likely plotting Bel's own death, along with the rest of his family. The very thought made his stomach turn and suddenly the thought of food wasn't so appetizing anymore.

They were about to go to war. Nico could die. Bel could die. Miran could die. If Nico were to lose his life on the battlefield, he didn't want to lose it regretting anything. And he would regret it if he didn't marry Bel, with his permission of course. He wanted to spend what could be his last few months alive with the man he wanted to call husband. They were rushing into it. He could acknowledge that. But this was war. Death was on the horizon. It was better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all. And he was going to love Bel with all his heart. And if they did both survive this war, which he prayed tot he gods that they would, then they would have the rest of their lives to take it slow and enjoy themselves. He would enjoy every moment with Bel, every minute of their time together.

Nico's gaze snapped to Bel, the question evident on his face. What did Miran mean by that? Psychological attachment? Bel had never mentioned anything like this to him. Nico had told Bel. Of the love and betrayal he had faced, and the consequences that had followed. And yet something had happened with Bel and he had not told Nico? He was hurt. It cut deep in his heart. He could understand why Bel didn't want to speak about it but they were to be married. Bel needed to trust Nico. There were some things that needed to be shared and this would be one of them. Especially if it was what was happening between the two of them.

He removed his hand from Bel's thigh, barely managing to offer a smile to their waitress as she dropped off their drinks. He reached forward and grabbed his glass of water, sipping from it. This day had gone from bad to worse. Could it get any worse than this?

At least Miran is calm, is the only thing on Bel's mind as he takes in everything his brother tells him. There's no scene, thank the gods, but the tension in the room has already risen considerably. If Miran were to yell, that would certainly garner the attention of everyone in the room. Now they just look like a family that's had a bad day, which, well, isn't entirely far from the truth. The waitress keeps her distance, shooting a few wary glances to the table, but occupies herself with fulfilling the orders of neighboring tables. There's no scene. There's no scene. There's no scene.

Treya lifts her head from her hands, any sort of heated emotion previously on her face wiped clean like a slate. It's… impressive. Scary, but impressive. Unlike the rest of the siblings, Treya has no issue locking away everything she's feeling behind a mask of calm indifference. She's had the most practice. It's cruel to think about what she's been through at such a young, young age, but it's prepared her. She can face stressful situations with a fire and then entirely calm herself the next second. It's unlike Miran, who usually builds and builds and builds until he explodes. It's unlike Val, who seemingly never has any strong emotions. Unlike Bel, who can't even process his own feelings without feeling the need to break down.

Gods. What has his life become? He spares a quick glance at Nico to his side. His heart aches as he notes how Nico pointedly shifted away, pointedly removed any sort of contact. But then he looks to Miran, the man Bel knows is only here to look out for Bel. He did travel across the lands just to find Bel, hadn't he? Miran's only there to protect him. To protect him from people who want to hurt him or use him–similar to what Nico's party's first intentions when they found him shaking in a carriage. People change. People change and Bel knows that, but he can't help but wonder where all of these feelings had stemmed from. Every normal person would be terrified, they would fight back, they would resist and they wouldn't fall for the man who kidnapped them. Was it because they were so kind to not kill him? No harm from their hands came to Bel. They could've killed him. They didn't. On the second day they met, Bel had told Nico he trusted him. And Bel still does. At least, he thinks he does.

With his mind spinning, Bel doesn't even register the food arriving. The waitress bustles off, her lips tucked underneath her teeth. He pokes at it with his fork and can't bring himself to eat any of it. Val slides her tongue over her teeth before taking the first bite. She's staring at Nico, eyes narrowed in quiet thought. Miran doesn't say any more. Treya hums a happy tune to herself. Bel wouldn't mind disappearing, to be anywhere else, but here he is, wedged between his brother and the man he swears he loves.

Nico schooled his expression, neutralizing it. He didn't want to let on to anyone beyond this table that there was something wrong. There was no hiding it from he siblings around the table. They could see it evidently, they could feel it in the air. But he didn't need anyone else looking over to this table. He didn't the waitress whispering to her coworkers about the drama going on in the royal family. If anyone decided to take advantage of this situation, they were screwed. None of them were in the right mind. And only Miran and himself were capable fighters at the table. He wished he had brought his sword with him. Or at least his daggers. He was growing more anxious by the minute that he didn't have them on him.

He found the steak knife on the table and slipped it under, placing it on his leg. It gave him some relief to have it in hand, even if he kept his expression neutral. He didn't look at anyone at the table. Not Bel, not Treya or Val or Miran. He just stared straight ahead. Even when their food was delivered, he barely acknowledged the waitress. A tight smile and a quiet thank you. He didn't touch his food. He didn't so much as pick up his fork and play with his food. He would ask for a to-go box later and take it home. Perhaps he would eat it later. He would see if he could store it in the kitchens. It would be a nice midnight meal.

He kept a watchful eye on all the doors and windows. With his increasing anxiety, he kept watching them more intensely. He would have to leave soon. He felt like it was just going to keep building and building until he exploded. Already he could feel his grip on his magic loosening, as it sought to protect him from whatever foes he might encounter. Bel's siblings were terrified of magic and he tried his best to get a grip on it. They hated him enough as it was, he didn't need to add to that by losing control of his magic.

He waved the waitress down and asked her for a box to go. He needed to get out of there, for his sake and theirs. He wasn't running away. He would never run away from bel, no matter what he was going through. No matter what was going on in Bel's head of whatever conflict this had brought. Whatever past trauma was being revisited. But if he didn't leave, he was going to explode, literally. He could only hold on to his magic for so long as his anxiety and agitation rose. It was better for everyone if he left. As soon as he packed his food he cleared his throat and finally faced the others. He placed enough money on the table to pay for all their meals and then some. "Thank you for the invitation to lunch. I have a few things I need to take care of." He looked down at Bel. "I'll see you tonight." Where they would have a much needed talk. He grabbed his box and stood from the booth. Without another look, he turned on his heals and left the restaurant.

Like a watchman, nothing escapes Miran's eye as he catches Nico slide a steak knife from the table and hide it somewhere on his person. He tightens his jaw yet says nothing. He of all people understand how naked it feels tk be without a weapon, but he at least hoped Nico would have at least a little more trust. Shouldn't the king know that, like him, Miran is just merely looking out for the man they both love. He wants to make sure Bel isn't in over his head, to make sure that Bel has thought this through, to make sure he is seeing past his rose colored glasses. Bel is so new to the outside world. He doesn't yet know that hasty decisions get people killed. Miran knows that. He's known since he was first thrust into war at age twelve.

He's known that rushing into romance breeds catastrophe and only develops into something worse when faced with the stress of a battlefield. He's known that impulsive plans result in punctured lungs and slow, suffocating deaths. He's known that people grow close in traumatic situations and bonds built on shakes foundations are bound to collapse with even the smallest of earthquakes.

And then Nico stands suddenly after piling all his food into a to-go container. He excuses himself to Bel and disappears out the door. Miran takes a cautionary sniff of the air, nose twitching as he senses the magic growing in the air around them. Does Bel even know of Nico's magic? Is it yet another secret between them? Almost as soon as Nico leaves, Treya hisses a curse, reaching for a cloth napkin to help seep up the blood dripping from her nose. Vals eyes narrow as she looks to the door where Nico exited. Bel. Bel hardly registered any of it, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the tablecloth. Gears whir behind his clouded eyes. Miran gives his brother a sympathetic look before taking a bite of his lunch. It's not at spicy as he wanted.

Knowing none of them will eat well, Miran calls for the check and pays the waitress a hearty tip that should cover her living expenses for a few months. All he requests is that she'll stay quiet about the tense situation. They get boxes for their food and slowly slide out from the booth. Bel gently shakes Bels shoulder, knocking him from his daze. Almost as soon as the trance is broken, tears flood to Bels eyes and Miran doesn't hesitate to lead his brother from the restaurant and allow him to collapse into Mirans arms as soon as they're within palace walls.

Nico didn't want to leave Bel. It had been the last thing that he had wanted to do. But if he hadn't left, the consequences would have been drastic. It wasn't worth the risk to stay. Not when he could hurt the people around them. And he would never risk putting Bel in that sort of situation. He hadn't been worried his magic would harm Bel. He coukd never harm him. He would rather drive a knife through his heart than cause any pain to him. But that didn't mean his actions wouldn't have brought emotional pain to him. It would have brought him more pain to stay than to leave. So he chose the best option, which was admittedly a terrible option. But Bel would be safe with his siblings. He only prayed they didn't try to turn Bel against him. But perhaps it was well deserved.

It should have been Nico there, taking Bel into his arms and holding him. It should have been Nico laying back down on the bed with Bel as he cried. It should have been him comforting Bel. But he couldn't. He couldn't be around him. Not until he released the magic swirling in his gut. Not until he dealt with the turmoil he was feeling. Once the anxiety and his restless magic subsided, then it would be safe to go back. He wasn't abandoning Bel. Or his people. He would never do that. He just needed some release.

Nico walked. He walked and walked until the town faded behind him and even the palace as he disappeared unto the trees. He needed to get as far away from everyone as possible. Just because he didn't have strong magic didn't mean it couldn't be catastrophic when it bubbled up like this. He wouldn't risk anyone's wellbeing.

When he could go no further, he collapsed to his knees, unleashing the raging magic. Wind snapped around him in a whirlwind, picking up the branches and leaves around him. The wind became strong enough that some of the weaker plants and bushes were ripped from the roots and joined the rest of the debris in this cyclone of air. On and on it went, climbing until the funnel reached the peak of the trees and beyond. And then just as quickly as it had formed, it disappeared.

Nico hunched over himself, gasping for air. It felt as if it had been sucked out of him. It likely just had. He had never had the best control of his magic. Not like the others. It was entirely possible he had taken his own breath from his lungs. He bowed his head, lowering it to the ground as he caught his breath. He realized then just how much he was shaking. He felt like his whole world was crashing down around him. He didn't think he could do this anymore.

For years he had played the good soldier his mother wanted. For years, he had dedicated his while life to avenging his mother and the family he never knew. He had sworn to take back the crown and rid the country of the tyrant, false king. To stop the genocide of mages and purify the land. And he was so, so tired. He was tired of everything falling on his shoulders. He was tired of everyone looking at him to succeed, and blaming him when he failed. He had given so much. So much of himself and yet he felt like everyone still demanded more.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, curled on the forest floor like an infant. He had no recognition of time. He coukd have stayed there all night. Had it not been for the nose that sniffed his hair.

Nico sat up, blinking in confusion. His hand went to the knife he had tucked in his waistband only to find a tabby cat in front of him. The cat was young, to be approaching Nico, but not so young it was still with its mother. As he sat back, the cat climbed right up into his lap. Nico raised his hand, about to push it away, but when it looked at him with those big eyes, he couldn't help put pet the cat. Bel would love this, he thought.

"IL not sure you're supposed to be doing this," he said, knowing the cat wouldn't respond. "Aren't you supposed to be afraid of me?" He looked around the carnage he had unleashed. "You should be." He wondered then if perhaps the cats home had been here and he had just destroyed it. He had a bad habit of doing that. He noticed then the setting sun and knew it would be dark before too long. He needed to get back soon.

He picked the cat off of him and placed hik on the ground. "I have to go now. Off you go." Bht as he made to walk back towards the palace, the cat began to follow him. "No, no, stay here." He gave the cat a pointed look before trying to walk away again. Only to be followed once more. They continued this dance all the way to the edge of the forest where Nico gave up trying to get rid of it. He vent down and picked up the cat. "Listen, I'm only doing this because my fiancée will love you. If he still want to marry me, that is. But either way, he'll definitely take to you. But you better not sleep on the bed. No pets on the bed. And you better be potty trained too. I'm not dealing with your piss and shit."

The guards let Nico through the palace. He tucked the cat between his arms, comforting jt as they walked past the pumas. "Not a fan? Me either." He at least had the decency to say it when he was out of ear shot of the pumas. He stood in front of his room, gulping. He hoped Bel was in there. Butbwhat would he say. He didn't know. And what jf Bel wasn't in there? Too many possibilities and too much for his head to handle. He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, setting down the cat only once he closed the door behind him.

After the disaster at the restaurant, almost able to smell the impending swell of magic, Miran quickly ushers his sisters and his brother back to the palace. He orders his sisters away, telling them to give their panicking brother space to deal with his own little crisis. Miran takes him up to his room, an isolated area on a high floor. A puma watches carefully, raising her head, huffing, and laying it back down when she realizes that it's only Miran. Bel luckily has the key, handing it to Miran with shaking hands. Miran finds their room slightly messy but grand. It's fancier than what even he grew up with at home. The four-poster bed towers in the middle of the room, the massive balcony doors let in plenty of the afternoon light, the furniture stands massive in the room atop of cold, marble floor. Miran wishes that his brother could possibly have a smaller, cozier room that'll give him the comfortability and room to breathe instead of this massive cavern.

Bel all but collapses on the foot of the bed, head in hands as he shakes it carefully.

"Miran." His voice is small. "What am I doing?"

Miran takes a careful breath in, then out as he tries to delicately choose his next words. "I guess you're doing what you think is right."

"But what if it's wrong?" Bel chokes on his words, finally looking up to his brother with red-rimmed eyes. "I've never seen this much of the world before. I've never met this many people. I've never–" A sob breaks his voice and Miran takes a few steps forward to place a comforting hand on Bel's quivering shoulder. "I think I love him."

"How about this." He nudges for Bel to scoot over before taking a place beside him. "You met because he kidnapped you?" A nod. "Did he threaten to hurt you if you didn't comply?" A hesitation. A shrug. Miran purses his lips. "When did you first start to… well, feel for the man?"

"Only a few days in."

"Only a few days in," Miran repeats slowly, closing his eyes and trying not to balk at the absurdity of it all. "When did you know he wasn't going to hurt you?"

Bel pauses, thinking back on his time with Nico, the tumultuous era that has spanned the past two months. "A few nights in. I kept having nightmares." Another pause. "He would hold me until I would fall back asleep. It was safe. It felt safe." The safest Bel had ever really felt before, even when back within the massive stone walls of Araniel.

And Miran, well, Miran knows that no man just using one for a hostage would cuddle them in the middle of the cold outdoor night until their nightmares went away. This obviously won't be over any time soon. Miran needs to be grilling Nico for himself. But not tonight. They're all far too tired to deal with the rest of this right now. Miran carefully stands. "You need to get some rest, Bel. Think about your life and how you want to proceed." He takes a careful breath. "I won't tell you how to live you're own life, but it's my job as your older brother to ensure that you aren't getting yourself into something that you won't be able to get out of." Bel tenses slightly, but then admits defeat. "Get some sleep. I'll be in the guest quarters in the East Wing if you need me." With one last squeeze to Bel's shoulder, Miran steps away and to the door. He glances at his brother over his shoulder before stepping out, allowing the door to click shut behind him.

As soon as Miran's powerful presence has been drained from the room, Bel falls back onto the bed with fresh tears in his eyes. Is this… is this what he really wants? Is Miran right? After all, Bel is so young and Nico is the only person he's ever had feelings for–maybe he's getting into this all too quick. What does he know about love? What does he know about marriage and actually being happy with another person? What if it's all just some psychological bond Bel formed foolishly under the stress of his kidnapping?

But…

Nico loves Bel, a fact that Bel has cemented deep in his mind. It's only been proved time and time again. He has no question of the other's faith… it's just a matter of Bel's. Can he really love Nico the way that Nico loves him? What is he supposed to do if he can't? He doesn't want to trap Nico into a marriage that only half of Bel's heart is into.

Bel doesn't know how much time has passed before he hears the door softly creak open. He doesn't move. He's too tired to move from the bed. He's content to just… lay against the pillows and dwell in a misery of his own making.

Nico supposed he couldnt just call the cat, the cat, but he didn't have a name thought of. And he also didn't know the gender, nor was he in the business of molesting cats to figure it out. He would let Bel handle that and go along with whatever he chose. That is, if Bel wanted to stay with Nico. He would still give the cat to him no matter what, but well, he hoped they would be able to raise it together.

As soon as the cat was set down, it started to sniff around the room, checking back in with Nico, rubbing his head against his legs before leaving to explore the room again. He lifted his head from the cat, finding Bel's sprawled form on the bed. His heart clench in his chest and he was heavy with guilt. He shouldn't have left. He shouldn't have had to leave. He knew better than to let his magic get the better of him. He knew better than to let it build up before giving it a release. Despite his feelings for his magic, he knew he had to let it out. He had learned that lesson a long time ago, when he had refused to used his magic for months until he finally exploded. He had barely managed to survive. He had learned from then to let out his magic. A little bit everyday to take the ache off of him and prevent such a blow out. And yet he hadn't for the last few days. He couldn't remember the last time he used it. And combined with the stress and anxiety of the past week, well, it's no wonder he lost control.

With hesitant steps, he approached the bed, walking around to the side that Bel was laying on. The sight of Bel was almost too much for him. His fault. This was his fault. He shouldn't have proposed. He shouldn't have done any of this. He had pressured Bel into thinking he had no choice. Miran was right. This was all Nico's fault. Why couldn't he have controlled himself this one time? The bkx of rungs was Bruning a hole in his head where they sat hidden from Bel. Those beautiful rings he was going to surprise him with. With a real proposal. That was the least that Bel deserved.

He got to his knees on the floor, looking at Bel's broken form. Nico had tears forming in his own eyes. He reached out to try to touch him before thinning. He stopped midway and dropped his hand back in his lap. He didn't know what to do. He didn't like this feeling, loosing control. First with his magic and now with his relationships. He swallowed, looking down at his lap before back up at Bel. "Bel," he own voice cracked, making him pause. "I'm sorry I left. I wasn't leaving you. I could never leave you. My magic, it-" he mashed his lips together to contain the sob.

(Ahdnnsnsh that was so short I'm sorry)

Just from the sounds of his approaching footsteps, Bel knows that it's Nico, but really who else could it be? Miran's already said good-bye, Treya and Val rarely venture outside of their own bubbles, his cousins hardly know him well enough to bother checking in on his sorry state. And what a sorry state it is. He can't even sort out his own feelings. Everyone's waiting on him and he's not even smart enough to know if his feelings are actually genuine or if they're just some horrific side-effect of this entire damned situation. He wants to bring his hands up to rub at his eyes, to pull at his skin, to tug his hair. Really, he just wants to do anything than just sit there, but he's practically immobile. His thoughts make it too monumental of a task to even bother trying to move. He does, however, at least manage to follow Nico with his eyes as the other man rounds the bed and kneels beside him.

He should've done something. He should've told Miran to stop talking, to save it for later, to not cause Bel's mind to shut down in the middle of what was supposed to be a pleasant meal with his partner and his family. But in a way, Bel doesn't know if he would've even liked Miran to stop. After all, his points were all valid ones that came from a concerned place in his heart. He had no ill intent. Would Bel even register the odd amalgamation of feelings circulating? Would Bel even notice how false his feelings were? No. He needed at least someone to snap him out of it. Always count on the rational, strong-willed older brother to keep an eye out for Bel. His breath shudders as he stares at the ceiling.  

"I'm sorry," Bel at last manages to croak. He still can't summon the energy to move. He lays. Stagnant. "I'm sorry I can't love you the way that you love me." And maybe one day Bel will learn, but is that really what both of them want? How long will it be until then? How long will Nico be waiting on Bel's stupid mind and his stupid thought process struggling to even pull apart the smallest bits of information. "I don't–" he pauses to take a shaking breath. "I don't know what I'm doing. Am I in over my head?" He at least finds a little resolve to shift, aching to sit up and breathe in some fresh air. "How do I even know what love is–am I–am I doing it right?" Never in his life had he ever felt so lost. He can't… he can't imagine a life without Nico since the brave king had first came into it. But can he really imagine another life, or is he just delusional? Hah. He wouldn't even be surprised if he begins to lose his grip. On reality, on his mind, on everything he thought was cemented in his life.

(alksdjfd dw mine are probably gonna get a little shorter now that im just playing bel atm)

Nico felt his heart crack into little pieces as he looked at Bel. He was hunched over himself, looking so small and lost. Nico wanted to grab him and pull him into his arms and shelter him away from the world. He wanted to hold him and never let him go. But it wasn't possible. And grabbing Bel to try to hug him now might only make things worse. Might only freak Bel out more and that was the last thing that Nico wanted to do. He wanted to soothe his worries and talk him down. He wanted to calm Bel. And if that meant he couldn't touch him, then so be it. Even if it was a struggle on his part.

From the first words Bel uttered, Nico was already shaking his head. None of this was Bel's fault. And of course he thought it was. His Bel also looked to himself first before blaming anyone else. But this wasn't Bel's fault. It was his own. Nico had never truly sat him down and made sure they were on the same page. They never truly talked about their feelings. He might have asked Bel to marry him but he never checked to make sure that Bel felt that way. Though he had said no. Bel had said no and Nico had let it rest. But it had been early. It had been too soon. But if Nico was going to die fight in a war, he wanted to die with Bel as his husband. And maybe he had been thinking irrationally, maybe he still was, but war and death did this to him. Nico had lost too much, had seen to much. He wanted to take care of Bel, and thus leaving his fortune to him when they were married. That way Bel would never want for anything. He could live life quite lavishly.

"No," Nico said, "No you have nothing to be sorry for. You are perfect exactly the way you are. It is my fault. I never asked you how you were feeling. I never asked you about us. I just assumed. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry to have put you in this situation. I never meant for this to happen." And he hadn't. He hadn't been thinking of Bel's siblings when he had asked Bel to marry him. He had only been thinking about Bel and how happy he made him. How he couldn't see a life without him. "No one knows what they are doing when it comes to love" He moved a little closer. Nico placed his hand on the bed, aching to hold Bel's. "Do you think I know what I'm doing? I don't. And that's the beauty of love. No one truly knows what they are doing. You never know what someone is going to do and it's terrifying and exciting. But you have to trust the one you love to love you and protect you. To not break you." And Nico wondered then if he had broken Bel. He prayed to the gods he had not. All he wanted to do was cherish Bel. He wanted to love him and give him the life he deserved. He never wanted to hurt him.

Bel listens. He sits and he listens and he tries to keep his breathing steady. The last thing he wants is to work himself into a panic attack. It wouldn't be the first he's had. He doubts it'll even be close to the last. He doesn't know what he's doing and Nico says that's normal but Bel he–he needs to know. He needs to know if he really loves Nico the way he's supposed to. And there's no right or wrong with love, and Bel at least knows that much, but he… He can't go any further without feeling like he's just stringing Nico along. He can't do that to him. Not when Nico's been so kind.

"I think…" His voice shakes as he tries to speak. He pauses, regains himself, and then speaks again. "I think I need some time." He registers Nico's hand so close to his, but Bel can't take it. "I think I need some time to relearn how to love you." And saying it out loud causes Bel's voice to break all over again. The confession makes his heart hurt, but he knows deep in his mind that it's what the both of them need. Everything has been so rapid and quick-paced and Bel truly hasn't had a time to breathe. He nearly died and made a deathbed confession and then his family, whom he loves so incredibly much, got involved, and Bel isn't quite sure if he even knows who he is right now. "I also need to know who I am before I can… be in a relationship." Because he's twenty-two and just barely out of his father's cold castle. "Work on myself." Because Bel is clearly the one at fault here. He's been leading Nico on with feelings that Bel doesn't even know are real. "I don't know how long it will take." He can't dare to meet Nico's eyes, to bear to see the disappointment.

His own journey will start in the morning. He'll begin with Loven and she'll finally be the one to teach him how to get over his weakness. She'll be a harsh teacher, but one that Bel needs. All his life, everything has been cushy and easy. That ends tonight. That ends now. He's going to learn to fight. He's going to figure out his feelings. He's going to set his priorities straight. It hurts now, but… but it'll all be for the better. "I can… I can ask Sella to move me to a new room. I can also tell her to postpone the wedding if…" He still can't bear to look at Nico. "If that's what you want."

(adsfjhadjfk BEL NOOOOOO MY HEART)

Every minute that passed Nico felt like his heart might stop in his chest. It was quiet. Bel was quiet. He couldn't take the silence. he couldn't take not knowing what was going through his head. He could feel himself spiraling. The future that he had envisioned for Bel and himself was slowing starting to slip from his grasp. Gods, Nico was an idiot. He had pushed Bel too far. He had taken this utterly too far. he hadn't meant for any of this to happen. he hadn't meant to get so attached so quickly. But after almost losing Bel, he couldn't stay away. He jumped right in at the fear of losing him. And now this was all unraveling because of himself.

Tears came to his eyes as Bel made his confession. His head dropped in defeat. This was it. This was truly it. He worried that by the time that Bel found himself, he would have moved on from Nico. He wanted Bel to have every bit of happiness that the world had to offer. he wanted him to find himself and flourish. He only wished that he would be able to stay by his side and watch the whole way. Now he would have to watch from a distance. Because he wouldn't push. he wouldn't fight for Bel. Not now, it would only drive him further away. And Nico wanted what was best for Bel. Well, this was what was best for Bel if this was what he was thinking. He wouldn't try to make a further mess of things by arguing against this logic. Because it did make sense. It would be hard for Bel to find himself with Nico breathing down his back.

"No." his voice cracked more than he wished it would. It cracked much more than he wished it would. "No, you will stay here. This is your room. I will move out." He'd join the others in the barracks. There was no place for him in this palace. There was nowhere he could go where he would not be drawn to Bel. The barracks were the safest option. He wouldn't run the risk of running into Bel every day all the time. "I will be here waiting for you if you will still have me. I'm one call away, my love."

Bel stares at his hands folded in his lap. Gods… gods, he knows that he's breaking Nico apart. He knows that every word that he utters is enough to break them permanently–but Bel has to do it. He needs to study himself if he wants any sort of lasting relationship in the future. He runs his hands through his hair, the tight curls far different from the dreadlocks he was so used to. Nico helped him with his hair. He tries not to think of the fond memories. There will always be more memories, ones made without the possible stain of false love threaded through.

The bed dips again and Bel straightens, eyes snapping to find… to find a kitten. A sob catches in his throat as he holds his hand out, rubbing his fingers together queitly to coax the kitten over. He fully sobs as it brushes his hand. "It's not–" he says. He swallows the emotion piling and overflowing in his throat. The kitten pushes into his hand and Bel finally wills himself to look at Nico. "It's not over. I can promise you that." Not yet. It's not over until Bel knows who he is first. After he finds himself, he could find that he still loves Nico dearly. The man saved his life after all. He's saved it so many times. He's held Bel while he cries and he's give him gifts no king could have bought him. Nico brought him a kitten, a tiny animal he's wanted nearly all his life. Before he can even register it all, Bel scoops the creature into his arms. They purr gently. Bel hopes he isn't allergic.

"Nico, please don't hate me for this." He blinks, hot tears rolling down his face. "Please, please don't hate me for this. I'm…" He takes a careful breath. "I'm so tired of being weak. I'm so tired of having everyone do things for me. I need to… I need to learn, first." His shaking hand reaches out to hold Nico's. "Maybe we can start over. No hostages, no fighting, no threat of death constantly looming over our shoulders–" He at least manages to laugh at that, because when will the threat ever be neutralized? They're heading into a war, after all. Bel needs to know how to fight. Bel needs to know how to protect. "Nico, please, I… I want to still love you after all of this is through." The kitten squeaks and Bel's heart could just melt. "I can't… I can't promise you anything, but we can both pray." He blinks, withholding the sob that struggles to break through. "Right?"

Nico raised his head as he felt the bed move and the kitten he had found in the woods had finally made an appearance. He hadn't meant to make Bel cry. That was the last thing he had thought of when he decided to take the cat home to Bel. He just wanted to make him happy. It seemed that he couldn't do anything right. "He's yours. I haven't named him yet. I thought you should have the honors of that." He didn't mention that he had almost killed the poor kitten and destroyed his home. He doubted that would help his case at all.

Nico wished Bel would just stop talking. The more he said the more he felt his heart cracking into a thousand pieces. He didn't need Bel to explain himself. He understood everything perfectly. He wasn't upset. He wasn't mad. He wasn't disappointed. he just wanted what was best for him. And if this was what Bel needed, Nico would give it to him. The more that he rambled, the more that it hurt. He needed to leave this room and fast before he said something he would later regret. "I could never hate you, my sweet Bel, never." He shook his head, pushing up to his feet. He was only hurting them both by staying here. He could send a maid to fetch his things later. His spare few things. His beautiful shirt that Bel had chosen for him. It would sit at the back of his closet so he wouldn't have to look at it. The pain would be too much.

He looked down at Bel with a soft expression, the love in his eyes unmistakable. "I will wait for you as long as it takes, Bel. But don't hold on for my account. I want you to soar, darling. And you need to do everything you need to, to achieve that. I will always come for you, Bel, all you need to do is ask." And maybe he was setting himself up for failure. Maybe he was only breaking his heart further, but Bel ever needed him, Nico would always be right there. "Goodbye, Bel." Then he turned on heels and left.

(my brain has not been kind to me at all i am so so so so so sorry)

Bel holds the kitten close to his chest, thankful that it doesn't squirm in his hold. "I'm sorry," he manages one last time before the door shuts behind Nico and Bel's left in the massive room without the warmth of another. He curls in on himself, the kitten a small comfort that he wraps himself around. "I'm sorry," he says only to the still air as he sobs into his pillow… but even doing so, he finds himself lighter than he had the past few days.

-

Down on the ground floor, using a small knife to pick at the dirt beneath his nails, Miran leans against the doorframe connecting the castle to the courtyard. Just through the courtyard and on the other side of the wall lay the makeshift barracks. Miran silently watches their setup, an offered help if they require it but not one to impede on their small community. His hoard of cousins eat their meals behind him, through the hall and in the dining room. Their joyous conversations are always wafting through the air… A luxury he's never quite had at his home in Araniel. It's all… so foreign, so strange. A messenger hawk crosses through the sky, Miran's favorite crimson seal adorning the four letters. Hopefully he'll have insider information of his father's castle soon, and maybe his friends might pay them all a visit. Gods know they'll need all the help they can get.

Miran eventually hears footsteps behind him, a cadence he's memorized from the few short interactions they've had. "How's Bel?" Miran asks as Nico approaches from behind. "Your city has made quite the settlement, if I do say so myself." And it is at least impressive. These people have clearly had far too much experience picking everything up and moving it accordingly.

(You're okay!! Don't worry about it)

Nico walked through the palace, his footsteps heavy and the silence grave. His heart was aching in his chest. The tears had since dried from his cheeks. He wouldn't walk through the halls crying where anyone could see him. He wasn't going to cry. He couldn't. he had to be strong, for himself and for Bel. He wouldn't try. No, he would thrust himself into his work. He would be at the training yard every morning with his men. Then he would spend every waking moment helping plan this war. He would win this war and be rid of Bel's father. Thoughts of how to kill him kept his mind occupied from the pain in his heart. He would kill the king for everything he had done to Bel and his siblings.

His steps didn't falter as he saw Miran leaning against the doorframe connected the palace to the courtyard. Just beyond, he could see his people settling in just beyond. He wondered how this conversation would go. Lunch hadn't gone well, he wondered if this would go any better. Nico deserved anything Miran slung his way. Nico was the reason Bel was hurting. He pressured him and made him feel like he didn't have a choice but to return Nico's affections. He never wanted that. He never wanted any of this. He just wanted Bel to be happy, and if that meant Nico couldn't be in the picture anymore, then so be it.

He came to a stop next to Miran but didn't look at him. He looked at his people, smiling and laughing and enjoying themselves. For the first time in most of their lives, they were safe. They were safe from harm and safe from percussion. Those with magic didn't need to worry about the consequences that would follow with it. They weren't on the run. Death wasn't looming over their shoulders. It was all he ever wanted for them. For them to be safe and happy. The only thing that could make things better was if his people could put their roots down. He would have asked if they could make them here, if only his home, his kingdom, weren't ruled by a tyrant. Nico would never be able to rest as long as his home was liberated from the king.

He finally looked at Miran. "Bel is strong. He can survive this." Because he would. Bel could do this. They both could. "They're adaptable," he motioned towards his people setting up in the yard. "We had to be, or we would have never made it this far."

"Oh I know my brother will survive this," Miran responds, voice lacking any sort of gentle let-down. Blunt. That's always how he's been. It's hard to get things done when everyone just chooses to dance around what they're trying to say. "He's impulsive. He may not think so but this is far from the first time he jumped into anything without thinking about if it was what he truly wanted." Miran's mind goes back to when they were boys, when Bel insisted that he wanted to apprentice beneath the palace archivist. He was offered the position and said yes without thinking. Only a month in did he realize how much he hated it, but couldn't say no because he was already in so deep. "I'm glad that he's learning." But over time, Bel came to appreciate the art after taking long breaks from it. "And he might go back to you." Miran steps away from the doorframe and looks to Nico. "But I'm not able to promise anything of my brother's affections. It's my job to make sure they aren't ill-placed or dangerous."

Miran takes a few steps towards the courtyard, looking off to the covered hallways that lead down sets of stairs and into the underground gyms. There's weapons of all sorts waiting to be used by sparring soldiers. "You're a warrior, correct?" Miran asks, glancing over his shoulder as he takes a few steps towards the staircase. "And a mage? You need a healthy outlet for your emotions and bottling them until they kill you is hardly the way to go about them." Miran levels Nico with a knowing look. There's a lingering emotion in Nico's eyes, and it's hardly one of meager heartbreak. There's exhaustion laced within there. "Come spar. I want to see how you are in action." Miran vaguely waves Nico over as he descends the first half of the staircase. 

Below ground and deep into the mountain, the air is much cooler, much crisper. There's a pair of soldiers practicing on targets with a pair of complex crossbows, chatting idly to each other in Blakkian. They notice Miran's arrival and they set up their bows, sensing that it's about their time to leave. Miran nods to them on their way out. Waiting for Nico to join him, Miran walks carefully beside the rack that holds dozens of artfully crafted swords. Some metal, some wood, some even crafted from sparkling gems. "Would you rather spar with or without magic?" Miran asks as he selects a simple longsword made of polished iron. "I'm good either way." He's grown familiar with his ice, familiar enough to use it as a second instinct in moments of high tension. It's saved him more than once before.

Miran certainly wasn't pulling his punches. His words cut deep into Nico and it stung, yet preferred this as opposed to sugar-coated words and lies. He preferred others to be blunt and straight with him. There was no use dancing around the subject and trying to protect the other person's feelings. It would only cause more pain in the end. "I wouldn't want you to promise your brother's affections. That's something only he can give." And while Nico prayed to whoever would listen that Bel would come back to him, he didn't want to force the prince into his arms. He wanted all of Bel or none of him. And if Bel couldn't give him his true self, they would never be able to make it. They had jumped in head-first, the rings in his pocket attested to that.

He crossed his arms, watching Miran as he pushed off the wall. He nodded his head once. He was a warrior. He had been on all of his life. He had been bred for this. Bred to fight, bred to win this war and take over the crown as a warrior king. Warrior first. He shifted on his feet, slightly uneasy. "I am," he said. His magic had always been a sore spot. His magic was rather weak and exhausted him more than was worth using. He only used it in extreme situations, other than the small little outlets so he didn't let his magic build up to the point of insanity.

He didn't know what prompted him to follow Miran down the stairs. They weren't friends. They weren't even friendly. Miran saw Nico as a threat, against his siblings, especially against Bel, and to his crown. But right now, they had a common enemy and it only made sense for them to align themselves together. But once the king was dead and the throne was left up to grabs, only time would tell what would happen. If it turned into a fight, Nico wasn't sure what would happen. Would Miran die for that crown? Would Bel leave him for fighting his brother? He supposed the latter didn't matter if Bel never came back to him. Nico looked at the weapons, skipping over the wooden or decorated handles. They weren't novices, so wooden would be no use to them when they were both skilled to handle a blade, and to not kill each other while training. The bedazzled and decorated swords were too much for him. He didn't care much for how the sword looked, only that it was balanced and complimented him. "Without," he said without hesitation. "I learned not to rely on magic in a fight a long time ago."

Miran's practiced, smug grin falls away into something far more human, a little lopsided, similar to his younger brother's. He tests the weight of the weapon in his hand, whipping the blade through the air with a twirl of his wrist and a slice of his arm. Tossing it from one hand to the other, Miran determines that it'll be a proper weapon. Nothing to maim or kill, but it'll do more than fine for sparring. Plus, he wants to see how well Nico may fair against a trained opponent instead of a bandit searching to get a pouch of coin. They're sloppy, but they're scrappy. The scar cutting into his cheek is more than enough proof that anyone can get lucky. "You know, you're going to have to learn how to properly channel it one day." Miran sets his sword down to shed his coat and silver jewelry. He removes the cuffs from the helixes of his ears and the rings from his fingers. "It's just going to kill you."

He steps to the center of the ring, the wooden floor slightly pliant. If he shifts his weight, he could almost bounce across the boards. He tests the sword's shine in the light seeping through the narrow windows situated near the ceiling. Occasionally, somebody will walk past, their feet momentarily blocking the sun from the room. Candles and sconces set around the room allow for use in later times of the day when the sun can't stretch around the buildings. "First to lose their weapon?" Miran inquires with a raised eyebrow. Every spar has its different rules and he just wants to ensure he has them right. Fair. Equal, even. With the other man still off guard, Miran has the simplest opportunity to lunge and take out a prominent threat, to both him and his family, but Miran's smarter than that. He knows to pick his battles. He may pick too many, but at least he'll let this one rest. It's not the time. Not the time, not the time. Bel still has to get his mind straight. Nico still has an army to lead.

Their battle may come one day and Miran will have no issue raising his blade against the man, but until then, he's happy being tentative allies. If Bel still decides to continue with his romantic affair, Miran is looking at his future brother-in-law. Well, fratricide wouldn't exactly be a new concept in Miran's jumble off a lineage. Ask his father. Ask his buried uncle. Ask his cremated aunts. Clenching his jaw, Miran takes a slow circle around the room, boots almost silent on the soft floor, and politely beckons Nico to make the first move. His sword is pointed towards the ground, but it could easily be at the other man's neck in a moment.

Nico wouldn't say he was particularly picky when it came to choosing a weapon but he certainly was selective. While he was well-versed in a wide variety of weapons, his preference was a sword and a long bow. And sparring didn't exactly call for a bow so a sword it was. The exact sword he carried in the situation, broadsword, shortsword, longsword. For now, a broadsword would suit his needs. He looked at the various options, testing the weight of a few before deciding on one. He tested it with a small series of swings before coming to the conclusion that this one would do. He would have preferred his own sword but that one was back in his room, well, Bel's room. And going back for it wasn't an option anymore. He was weaponless unless the maids brought it to his tent with his people. He would do Bel the favor of making himself scarce as much as possible until the prince made a decision. And depending on that, might continue to make himself scarce.

He watched as the prince shed his fine clothes, the action reminding him of Bel. Or rather, the clothing reminded him of the prince. Bel had a fondness for fine things that Nico would never understand. But it had been something he would have been happy enough to indulge in for him. He would buy all the finest things the land had to offer if only to make him happy. He placed the tip of the sword in the ground, crossing his hands over the hilt as he waited for the prince to finish. "I know how to use my magic," he said, almost defensive over it, "But I was trained how to fight without it. Sometimes it's not always the viable option." Sometimes he liked to feel his opponent dying beneath his hands, his blade, versus using his magic to suck the air from their lungs. His magic wasn't something that was strong enough to be a strength in battle either, excessive use of it draining him faster than if he was on the front line for hours. not to mention he had also depleted his reservoir of magic in the woods. None of which he planned to tell Miran. There was only so much he was willing to share.

Nico nodded his head. It sounded fair to him. Much less brutal than who could draw blood first or who surrendered. Nico wasn't known to surrender. He would rather die. Which was a bit extreme for sparring but he also rarely ever lost. He was a strong opponent, even if he didn't always look it. He stepped onto the mat, testing the weight and balance of it, almost dancing on his toes for a moment as he got a feel for it. He raised his sword, gripping it with both hands and he circled the prince. The corner of his lip tipped up as the prince beckoned for him to strike first. An unlikely strategy, to allow the enemy to make the first move. But he would not underestimate Miran. The prince was a worthy opponent.

(So how do we wanna do this? Who do we want to win? Or should they draw?)

As soon as the first strike comes, Miran swipes his sword to quickly parry it, wasting no time to whirl and lash for Nico's arm. The first to lose their sword. The first to become vulnerable. An ever present smirk on his face, Miran lunges without abandon. He moves with purpose and power, There's not a single step wasted as he battles. Nico, though slow to begin, picks up quickly. Miran's smirk grows into a smile as he lashes and parries. It's a back and forth game, one that Miran has every intention on winning. They continue to trade blows, back and forth and back again, just a dance across the bouncing floor. The only sound is their feet mixed with the metallic screeches of their blades.

However, Nico's skill proves to be a worthy match for Miran's caliber. If faced in the true battlefield, Miran would question if he would have a chance of escaping with his life–a tactile retreat is something he's never been afraid of, especially with allies that are more than willing to snipe from a distance. A battle stepped away from is hardly a battle lost. The battle is not over until a warrior has died or submitted. Oh well, they said no magic to begin with, but when has Miran ever truly been entirely one for fairness. Pushing back against Nico's pursuit, Miran clashes loudly against his blade with his own. They slide together as Miran steps, the room going frighteningly close as energy rushes from the ball of his foot to the floor around them.

With another shove, Nico trips over a slippery block of ice set right behind his heel, falling straight onto his ass as another tendril of solid ice springs from the source and encases the sword. With a triumphant exhale in the form of steam, Miran stares down at Nico's fallen form. "You lost your weapon," Miran states firmly, lips curling into a smile. Accuse him of cheating all he wants, Miran knows that the laws of war are a courtesy crossed the moment people become frightened. There's no honor in war. There's honor in leading and surviving–but never killing. To kill is to take and to take is to steal, and Miran is many things, but a thief is far from the list. "I won," is the declaration, Miran tipping up his chin as the numbness recedes from his fingertips and warmth once again fills his blood. "You were a worthy match, I have to admit." He shrugs ever so nonchalantly as he offers Nico his hand, surely warm now that he's flexed them.

Miran was a worthy opponent. He knew if any battle were to occur between the two of them, the result would be devastating. A battle for the crown. A deadly battle. Neither would be secure on the throne if the other lived and still desired. A battle that would wage for hours if it must, until the each grew too tired to lift a sword. A battle that would be won only when one's strength gave out before the other. Nico prayed that day would never came. That one or the other would give up the crown. That they could find a compromise or even that one of them would fall in battle and there would be no battle to be had. Nico prayed that they remained allies for Miran was a formidable one.

What happened next, Nico hadn't expected. One moment, he was clashing swords with the prince, and the next, he was on his ass with his sword encased in ice. He looked up at the prince in shock. Ice. Magic? The prince had magic. It was almost laughable. The very king who hated magic and made it his life's mission to rid the world of it, his first son was made of magic. The cool ice was in his veins. Oh, he wondered what that false king would have done if he had known. He likely would have killed his son, leaving Bel to inherit the throne. His precious Bel, well, not his, not anymore. Bel could be a wonderful king, if advised and educated properly. Not by the king, of course. And not even by Nico. Nico knew war and strategy. He knew how to command and keep his people alive. But it wasn't the same as living a fulfilling life. But someone else could teach Bel. Perhaps Miran himself if he stepped down. If Bel decided to come back to Nico, he could make him his king. Too much relied on an unknown future. All Nico could do was focus on the present. And the present was Miran having magic.

He threw his head back and let out a laugh that could reach the gods. "Yes you did." He took the hand that was offered to him and got to his feet. While there was still a shadow in his eyes, the grin on his lips was not forced. "I'm curious, how have you been able to practice your magic? you're obviously well taught but how?" He bent down to retrieve the sword and return it to the rack.

Miran had been expecting a multitude of reactions, but Nico tossing his head back to laugh hadn't been one of them. Able to hide his shock well, Miran returns with his easy smirk, willing the magic within him to disperse the ice into water, then to boil away to nothing but evaporated steam. Magic. Nobody expects the son of a tyrant king to be full of it. That's why he goes to such costs to hide it–such means to ensure his father can't catch wind… not again at least. It's why he disappears on alleged crusades with the same band of merry warriors. They wear the silver and scarlet of their kingdom until they breach the border, swiftly changing to match the regalia of the land. They fight against their own men, hidden with masks and helmets and the witchcraft of Miran's closest friend. Magic has never been Miran's enemy. 

"My mother taught me at first when I was young," Miran explains, smile fading away to a much more somber expression. "It was clear that I had a gift ever since I was a boy, but my mother knew that I would be sentenced to the noose if my father ever discovered it. We tried to hide it when I was little, but my older sister grew ill and then died in her sleep and my mother didn't want another one of her children to be defenseless. We trained in secret, when my father was asleep or away or too busy fussing over his own power to pay his family any mind…. but our Captain of the Guard, Ceveniere, found traces of my ability when doing her rounds." His face grows bitter as he recounts the tale. "I had been careless. My father confronted my mother and she took the blame. Despite not being a witch, she managed to convince my father that it was her magic. Her secret training." Miran clears his throat, unable to tear his eyes from the shine of his blade. "I'm sure you can figure out what happened after that."

Pacing over to the weapons rack, Miran returns his sword. "My mother's side of the family comes from magic. I'm sure you've noticed my littlest cousin, Arlo, has a particular talent for speaking with animals. Marcel has some extent over plants and Sella's able to commune with the mountains. I believe that's how she got you and Bel here so quickly  when his lungs… attacked him." Miran clears his throat and wipes the image of his little brother coughing blood from his mind. "I have friends arriving in Blakkast soon, each of them with some form of their own magic. They work with me within the ranks of the Aranian military to infiltrate and attack. Nobody knows that it's us. Nobody's known for the years we've operated."

(I told myself being out of school, i was gonna be more active, apparently not oop-)

Nico looked at the crown prince of Araniel in a different light. He no longer saw an entitled prince trying to hold onto the crown and its promises, but a man trying to mend and hold his country together. All the mean while, Nico was trying to tear it apart. "I am sorry ab out your mother," he said, "I know what it's like to loose a devoted parent." His own mother had been devoted to him, even if her war took precedent. He was all she had left of her family. The last bit of Callistar blood and rightful heir to the throne. She had loved him, even if she had been consumed with rage and revenge. Even if she had turned him into a fear general and head of the Lisias. She had taught him how to use a blade. She had taught him how to wield his magic and when not to. She had always been there for him, until she wasn't. "You should tell Bel. He deserves to know what really happened to your mother. And your sisters as well." They had a right to know.

He crossed his arms across his chest, nodding his head. "I can send Ambrose your way and he can sort through their magic. Those of us with magic are placed carefully in our ranks so that no side is left too vulnerable. There's always a healer, elemental, and whatever else we have, to equal out the strengths across the ranks. And I would like my people to train with yours. To learn how Araniel fights and how to defend themselves against it." They would need to have a proper war meeting soon, with Blakkast's generals and whatever allies would soon be joining them. Time was not on their side. Every minute counted.

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flickering to the ground. "Will you check on Bel? I don't think he should be alone right now. You don't need to tell me anything." It would be better if he wasn't told anything. If he knew anything at all he would want to rush to his side. "Just because he can handle it doesn't mean he should be alone. And I think he would like his brother with him. He looks up to you, you know. He admires you. I think it would be good to have his brother with him."