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helloeverybunny2018-05-22 10:59 am
notanybunny) wrote in helloeverybunny2018-05-22 10:59 am
FIC • A Tale of Two Princes (Sphere/Vitaen)
Setting: Aquavitae | 7QJ91
Characters: Marc and Ramis
Summary: The next Cajuzinho and the next Bandit King plot to take over the world?but which world
The lies and secrecy started that one morning, barely a week after Marc’s discovery of his true parentage, when he intercepted Postino outside Quentão and requested the mailman to deliver an unmarked letter with utmost confidentiality.
His mother had told him all that he wanted to know about his biological father, about his birthplace, about the war that had destroyed their kingdom. Yet the knowledge did not fill the void in his being, did not dispel the feeling that he did not belong in the strange world in which he walked.
Within the palace walls, everything was alright. There was no longer a pause when he called Paris ‘Father.’ He asked Nausy no further questions about Airyglyph, or its last king. He chased Kahlua down the halls with the same boundless energy and fondness he’d always had for her.
But in the silence of his heart was a storm, and in just a matter of days he’d learned to hide it — and hide it well. It was almost too easy. Like it was something he’d always known how to do, only that he’d never had to.
There had been a sword, his mother had said. A relic of the world they’d left behind. It had belonged to both his parents’ families at certain points in time, but it arrived in Aquavitae in his uncle’s possession.
Marc had grown interested in the Crimson Scourge, because, like him, it did not belong in Aquavitae. So he had a letter sent that morning to the person who was last known to have it.
—-
Another letter, another lie and three days later, Marc arrived in a tavern at the outskirts of Pisang.
He’d asked his parents if he could accompany his Aunt Cielo to the Zinfandel Academy, as he was curious about the institution’s new programs. It took some convincing (mostly of his mother), but they eventually agreed, and he’d gone as he’d said. Got a fancy tour, even made a couple of new friends — including a pretty young girl named Eiswein.
But he didn’t stay too long. He excused himself, saying he’d be back later to pick up Cielo, and left to take care of some ‘errands.’
He’d been sitting in the tavern for half an hour with a glass of beer he hadn’t touched when another young man slid into the stool beside him by the counter. The newcomer was tall and well-built, handsome in the brooding sort of way, with fierce blue eyes and a sword strapped across his back.
“You made it,” the other said by way of greeting. “… Cousin.”
“Hey, Ramis.”
—-
Nausy and Marcus, who were twins, had hoped that their sons would grow up to be as close as they were. But it simply hadn’t been the case, though not for lack of trying.
Although Marc wasn’t as exuberant as his mother or younger sister, he was generally outgoing and charming, a people-person. Ramis, on the other hand, was a bit of a social recluse, preferring to tinker with machines and stay out of everyone else’s way. In fact, for some inexplicable reason, Ramis’ relationship with his sister, Macie, had spiraled out of control that he was sent away to Amarcord to live with their Grandpa Jing and Grandma Cassis instead. And then, a year or so ago, he went off the grid, just after his father was said to have passed the Crimson Scourge on to him.
Marc had no doubt Postino would be able to find his wayward cousin, but he wasn’t sure if Ramis would actually reveal himself. So when he received a letter with instructions for a rendezvous near Pisang, he just had to be there.
They moved to a table in the far corner of the bar, well away from prying eyes, sitting across each other with drinks they had no intent of consuming.
“Thanks for coming to meet me,” Marc said, a little awkwardly. He hadn’t seen his cousin for more than a year, and had barely spoken to him in the time before that. He’d been much closer to Macie.
Ramis shrugged. He was nearly three years younger than Marc, but he was a head taller, and slightly more muscular. His years with the Bandit King had done him a lot of good, it seemed. “I guess I’m curious. It’s... an odd request.” He looked at Marc quietly for a few moments, trying to figure out what was going on with his well-loved cousin; then he reached out behind him for the sword, laying it on the table, sheath and all.
Marc started to reach for the sword, but stopped himself before actually touching it. He remembered what his mother had said about it. “It chooses its wielder.” And cursed the unworthy.
“Yeah. Do you want it?”
“What? No,” Marc replied hastily. “I just... wanted to see it. Something from...” He swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “… home.”
Now Ramis really looked at Marc. In the dim light of the tavern’s interior, his eyes appeared even more crystalline, and the intensity of his gaze was a little unnerving. A lot like his mother’s, Khrista. “So you already know?”
Marc feigned a laugh, but it was hollow. “Don’t tell me you do?”
The younger boy snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dad and Mom talk, and they always forget I’m just around, close enough to hear. So, yeah. I know, Marc. About Airyglyph. About the war. About your father. I’ve known for a while.” His expression softened, and he gently pushed the sword a little more towards Marc’s side of the table. “This is rightfully yours... Your Majesty.”
Dark brown eyes widened, both at the gesture and the words. “I…” Marc started to say, then shook his head. “Don’t be silly, Ramis. Airyglyph is gone. And more importantly, it’s not here.” His words were thick with emotion, even as he tried to act like he didn’t care.
And Ramis wasn’t fooled. If there was one skill he’d mastered as a kid who pretty much grew up outside looking in, it was reading people. He was like his father in that regard: terrible liar, but awfully observant. “It’s not... really gone. The capital city was destroyed, sure. The towns and villages, too. But they’d started rebuilding when Dad and Mom, I mean we, left.” The poor kid had gotten so used to his pseudo-invisibility that he often wrote himself out of the stories.
“Wait, what? You were born in Airyglyph, too?”
“Aquaria, technically.” Ramis’ shoulders had tensed visibly, apparently realizing that he’d steered their conversation towards more… sensitive topics. The war. His birth. In ordinary circumstances he would cut off the narrative before it went into hurtful places, but, somehow he felt strangely compelled to connect with Marc. Perhaps because, for the first time, there was a chance that someone could understand him. “I don’t know how much Aunt Nausy told you. But the war, it was really bad. It took an alliance of three formerly bickering nations to take Greeton down.” He marveled at how he almost quoted his father word-for-word. “Dad led the allied army. Their headquarters was in Aquios, the capital of Aquaria. I was born there, right in the thick of the war.” When my parents weren’t ready, when they didn’t want me...
Marc was listening attentively. “Mother told me some things. But Vita brought us here sometime before that, I think. I was two.” Then, more out of curiosity than anything, he asked, “What did Uncle Marcus say about my father?”
Ramis let go of the breath he almost didn’t notice he’d been holding, relieved for the way out. He wasn’t quite ready for that conversation, as much as he wanted to bond with his cousin. “Dad didn’t like him much,” he answered, smiling for the first time since he’d arrived. “They knew each other since they were kids. Rivals, probably. He’d definitely told Mom more than once that they were barely civil at Aunt Nausy’s wedding, although they’d kind of made up when they saw each other again in the underworld—”
Marc made a strangled noise, sitting upright so suddenly he almost knocked off their drinks from the table. “The underworld?” It wasn’t the incredulity of the idea that startled him — aside from living in an utterly fantastical world like Aquavitae, his family’s benefactor was no less the planet herself, walking and living among them in Quentão — but the possibility it offered.
The boys stared at each other in silence for nearly a full minute.
“Is it really possible—”
“I can take you there—”
Marc’s expression was a mix of hope and disbelief. “But how?”
People really needed to stop underestimating Ramis, but he wasn’t about to fault his cousin for that. Besides, it felt good to show off. Occasionally. “My mother is Khrista Traydor, former galactic rebel leader. She has a ship, Marc. Not only can I steal it, I can also fly it.”
The grin on Ramis’ face was one Marc was unused to — he must’ve picked it up from their Grandpa Jing — but it was infectious. It certainly helped quiet the sensible, responsible thoughts that had started to enter the older boy’s head when he entertained the idea of going off-planet to find his homeworld, and maybe his father. “And you know where to go?”
“Of course! Elicoor II, second planet of the Elicoor system, in the Alpha sector. New Aquor — that’s what they call the unified kingdom — is on the southern continent, and is ruled by our Aunt Fia. Piece of cake.” Ramis grabbed his glass of beer and tipped it towards Marc in invitation. “So, cousin. Are you in?”
Marc frowned. “You’re underage, you can’t drink.”
That sent Ramis laughing. After everything they discussed, Marc was worried about that? So his response, of course, was to empty his glass like a pro.
Marc groaned, burying his head in his hands. “I’m going to be grounded for life.”
“Oh, come on, Marc. Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t tell me there isn’t a part of you that’s Aunt Nausy, spelunking queen of Aquavitae.” Ramis picked up the Crimson Scourge and strapped it to his back, then slid the remaining glass of beer towards Marc. “I… I got your back, okay?”
They weren’t particularly close, that much was true. But perhaps they found something more in each other that day, for Ramis to have even bothered to make the offer, and for Marc to eventually accept it.
Marc sat back up. “Oh, alright. I mean, I asked for this, didn’t I? Might as well own up to it.” He reached for his glass, and, as a sign of camaraderie, emptied it as well — although he nearly choked as he finished. (Ramis, at least, had the decency to stifle his laughter.)
With a smile, Marc Albert, son of Arzei Bohnleid II, held out his hand. “So… partners?”
Ramis Edarl, son of Solomon Marcus Nox, grinned and shook the hand he was offered. “Partners,” he agreed. The word meant a lot more to him than the other boy realized, and for that he was glad.
Characters: Marc and Ramis
Summary: The next Cajuzinho and the next Bandit King plot to take over the world?
The lies and secrecy started that one morning, barely a week after Marc’s discovery of his true parentage, when he intercepted Postino outside Quentão and requested the mailman to deliver an unmarked letter with utmost confidentiality.
His mother had told him all that he wanted to know about his biological father, about his birthplace, about the war that had destroyed their kingdom. Yet the knowledge did not fill the void in his being, did not dispel the feeling that he did not belong in the strange world in which he walked.
Within the palace walls, everything was alright. There was no longer a pause when he called Paris ‘Father.’ He asked Nausy no further questions about Airyglyph, or its last king. He chased Kahlua down the halls with the same boundless energy and fondness he’d always had for her.
But in the silence of his heart was a storm, and in just a matter of days he’d learned to hide it — and hide it well. It was almost too easy. Like it was something he’d always known how to do, only that he’d never had to.
There had been a sword, his mother had said. A relic of the world they’d left behind. It had belonged to both his parents’ families at certain points in time, but it arrived in Aquavitae in his uncle’s possession.
Marc had grown interested in the Crimson Scourge, because, like him, it did not belong in Aquavitae. So he had a letter sent that morning to the person who was last known to have it.
—-
Another letter, another lie and three days later, Marc arrived in a tavern at the outskirts of Pisang.
He’d asked his parents if he could accompany his Aunt Cielo to the Zinfandel Academy, as he was curious about the institution’s new programs. It took some convincing (mostly of his mother), but they eventually agreed, and he’d gone as he’d said. Got a fancy tour, even made a couple of new friends — including a pretty young girl named Eiswein.
But he didn’t stay too long. He excused himself, saying he’d be back later to pick up Cielo, and left to take care of some ‘errands.’
He’d been sitting in the tavern for half an hour with a glass of beer he hadn’t touched when another young man slid into the stool beside him by the counter. The newcomer was tall and well-built, handsome in the brooding sort of way, with fierce blue eyes and a sword strapped across his back.
“You made it,” the other said by way of greeting. “… Cousin.”
“Hey, Ramis.”
—-
Nausy and Marcus, who were twins, had hoped that their sons would grow up to be as close as they were. But it simply hadn’t been the case, though not for lack of trying.
Although Marc wasn’t as exuberant as his mother or younger sister, he was generally outgoing and charming, a people-person. Ramis, on the other hand, was a bit of a social recluse, preferring to tinker with machines and stay out of everyone else’s way. In fact, for some inexplicable reason, Ramis’ relationship with his sister, Macie, had spiraled out of control that he was sent away to Amarcord to live with their Grandpa Jing and Grandma Cassis instead. And then, a year or so ago, he went off the grid, just after his father was said to have passed the Crimson Scourge on to him.
Marc had no doubt Postino would be able to find his wayward cousin, but he wasn’t sure if Ramis would actually reveal himself. So when he received a letter with instructions for a rendezvous near Pisang, he just had to be there.
They moved to a table in the far corner of the bar, well away from prying eyes, sitting across each other with drinks they had no intent of consuming.
“Thanks for coming to meet me,” Marc said, a little awkwardly. He hadn’t seen his cousin for more than a year, and had barely spoken to him in the time before that. He’d been much closer to Macie.
Ramis shrugged. He was nearly three years younger than Marc, but he was a head taller, and slightly more muscular. His years with the Bandit King had done him a lot of good, it seemed. “I guess I’m curious. It’s... an odd request.” He looked at Marc quietly for a few moments, trying to figure out what was going on with his well-loved cousin; then he reached out behind him for the sword, laying it on the table, sheath and all.
Marc started to reach for the sword, but stopped himself before actually touching it. He remembered what his mother had said about it. “It chooses its wielder.” And cursed the unworthy.
“Yeah. Do you want it?”
“What? No,” Marc replied hastily. “I just... wanted to see it. Something from...” He swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “… home.”
Now Ramis really looked at Marc. In the dim light of the tavern’s interior, his eyes appeared even more crystalline, and the intensity of his gaze was a little unnerving. A lot like his mother’s, Khrista. “So you already know?”
Marc feigned a laugh, but it was hollow. “Don’t tell me you do?”
The younger boy snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dad and Mom talk, and they always forget I’m just around, close enough to hear. So, yeah. I know, Marc. About Airyglyph. About the war. About your father. I’ve known for a while.” His expression softened, and he gently pushed the sword a little more towards Marc’s side of the table. “This is rightfully yours... Your Majesty.”
Dark brown eyes widened, both at the gesture and the words. “I…” Marc started to say, then shook his head. “Don’t be silly, Ramis. Airyglyph is gone. And more importantly, it’s not here.” His words were thick with emotion, even as he tried to act like he didn’t care.
And Ramis wasn’t fooled. If there was one skill he’d mastered as a kid who pretty much grew up outside looking in, it was reading people. He was like his father in that regard: terrible liar, but awfully observant. “It’s not... really gone. The capital city was destroyed, sure. The towns and villages, too. But they’d started rebuilding when Dad and Mom, I mean we, left.” The poor kid had gotten so used to his pseudo-invisibility that he often wrote himself out of the stories.
“Wait, what? You were born in Airyglyph, too?”
“Aquaria, technically.” Ramis’ shoulders had tensed visibly, apparently realizing that he’d steered their conversation towards more… sensitive topics. The war. His birth. In ordinary circumstances he would cut off the narrative before it went into hurtful places, but, somehow he felt strangely compelled to connect with Marc. Perhaps because, for the first time, there was a chance that someone could understand him. “I don’t know how much Aunt Nausy told you. But the war, it was really bad. It took an alliance of three formerly bickering nations to take Greeton down.” He marveled at how he almost quoted his father word-for-word. “Dad led the allied army. Their headquarters was in Aquios, the capital of Aquaria. I was born there, right in the thick of the war.” When my parents weren’t ready, when they didn’t want me...
Marc was listening attentively. “Mother told me some things. But Vita brought us here sometime before that, I think. I was two.” Then, more out of curiosity than anything, he asked, “What did Uncle Marcus say about my father?”
Ramis let go of the breath he almost didn’t notice he’d been holding, relieved for the way out. He wasn’t quite ready for that conversation, as much as he wanted to bond with his cousin. “Dad didn’t like him much,” he answered, smiling for the first time since he’d arrived. “They knew each other since they were kids. Rivals, probably. He’d definitely told Mom more than once that they were barely civil at Aunt Nausy’s wedding, although they’d kind of made up when they saw each other again in the underworld—”
Marc made a strangled noise, sitting upright so suddenly he almost knocked off their drinks from the table. “The underworld?” It wasn’t the incredulity of the idea that startled him — aside from living in an utterly fantastical world like Aquavitae, his family’s benefactor was no less the planet herself, walking and living among them in Quentão — but the possibility it offered.
The boys stared at each other in silence for nearly a full minute.
“Is it really possible—”
“I can take you there—”
Marc’s expression was a mix of hope and disbelief. “But how?”
People really needed to stop underestimating Ramis, but he wasn’t about to fault his cousin for that. Besides, it felt good to show off. Occasionally. “My mother is Khrista Traydor, former galactic rebel leader. She has a ship, Marc. Not only can I steal it, I can also fly it.”
The grin on Ramis’ face was one Marc was unused to — he must’ve picked it up from their Grandpa Jing — but it was infectious. It certainly helped quiet the sensible, responsible thoughts that had started to enter the older boy’s head when he entertained the idea of going off-planet to find his homeworld, and maybe his father. “And you know where to go?”
“Of course! Elicoor II, second planet of the Elicoor system, in the Alpha sector. New Aquor — that’s what they call the unified kingdom — is on the southern continent, and is ruled by our Aunt Fia. Piece of cake.” Ramis grabbed his glass of beer and tipped it towards Marc in invitation. “So, cousin. Are you in?”
Marc frowned. “You’re underage, you can’t drink.”
That sent Ramis laughing. After everything they discussed, Marc was worried about that? So his response, of course, was to empty his glass like a pro.
Marc groaned, burying his head in his hands. “I’m going to be grounded for life.”
“Oh, come on, Marc. Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t tell me there isn’t a part of you that’s Aunt Nausy, spelunking queen of Aquavitae.” Ramis picked up the Crimson Scourge and strapped it to his back, then slid the remaining glass of beer towards Marc. “I… I got your back, okay?”
They weren’t particularly close, that much was true. But perhaps they found something more in each other that day, for Ramis to have even bothered to make the offer, and for Marc to eventually accept it.
Marc sat back up. “Oh, alright. I mean, I asked for this, didn’t I? Might as well own up to it.” He reached for his glass, and, as a sign of camaraderie, emptied it as well — although he nearly choked as he finished. (Ramis, at least, had the decency to stifle his laughter.)
With a smile, Marc Albert, son of Arzei Bohnleid II, held out his hand. “So… partners?”
Ramis Edarl, son of Solomon Marcus Nox, grinned and shook the hand he was offered. “Partners,” he agreed. The word meant a lot more to him than the other boy realized, and for that he was glad.