[August 22] [Fire Emblem] The Politics of Loneliness (S.Chronicle 6/?)

[runiclore]

The Politics of Loneliness
Author: Amber Michelle
Day/Theme: August 22 - Behind closed doors
Series: Fire Emblem 9/10
Character/Pairing: Sephiran, Rafiel, Naesala, Sanaki
Rating: K
Words: 3740

Notes: AU, part # of the Summer Chronicle. This is a first and ongoing draft; a list of known issues is being compiled here.




.............................................


Sephiran managed to wait two days before he felt compelled to go down to see the heron prince. Kilvas was left in charge of the chamber's security, and any conversation he had with Rafiel would probably be overheard and reported to him, but his memory of the dark room, of its musty scent and dead air, had Sephiran up late both nights thinking over ways to bring the prince out into the open. He wasn't sure if the other senators knew the heron's face, or if they cast their bids blind. There was a certain luminescence to his hair, eyes, and skin that couldn't be hidden - that he thought he himself had lost, or his attempt at disguise would have been penetrated years ago.

He descended to the safe room on the third afternoon after their arrival with a set of clergy robes over his arm. Kilvas was in the room when Sephiran arrived, sitting cross-legged on the table. The prince was seated on the sofa, uncovered now to show faded red upholstery, turned so his wings arched over the arm. Rafiel inclined his head and smiled.

"I apologize for the furniture," Sephiran said when he'd made the proper greetings. "If we have anything brought out of storage it will draw attention to us."

"You have chairs made for laguz?"

He glanced at Kilvas, smoothing the robes over his arm. "Long ago, one of the bird tribe married into the royal house. Of course we are equipped for such circumstances."

"That's the first I've heard of it." Kilvas pulled his feet down, planting them on the seat of the chair instead, and leaned forward. "Those aren't going to fit him."

Sephiran draped the costume over the back of the sofa and sat at the end opposite the prince, turning his back to the raven. The skin between his shoulder blades prickled, but he wouldn't let himself turn. "Leave, Kilvas. There is something we need to discuss."

"Pardon?" He heard Kilvas slide to the floor. "No offense, Minister, but my job--"

"--is to see to Prince Rafiel's safety for our purposes." Sephiran turned his head just far enough to see him in his peripheral vision. He could give an order, but when Sanaki's own commands regarding the prince's safety were in force, his own could be ignored, and he suspected they'd found that loophole and taken advantage of it already. "This is for his sake, Kilvas. Wait just outside if you insist."

Rafiel lifted his shoulders when the raven turned to him. "I see no harm in it. Go ahead, Naesala."

Sephiran waited for him to protest again, but Kilvas turned on his heel and strode to the door without a word, though he did glance back once with his hand on the handle, expressionless. Sephiran turned his face away. They were friends, given their familiar forms of address and the way the raven king hovered over Rafiel the other day as if he suspected they would harm their own savior. There was no doubt Lekain would try if he so much as suspected what they were planning, but the raven should know better than to think he or Sanaki would ever harm this prince. She was so angry about Rafiel's circumstances that morning they could hardly speak of the case. He made a strong impression upon her.

When the door finally closed Sephiran tried to relax and turned toward the prince, but did not meet his eyes. "Who knows your face here?"

Rafiel folded his wings and curled them around the frame, quiet as he thought. "I only recall Lord Hetzel. The traders kept me in a tightly guarded room until the purchase was made. However-- " The heron glanced at the door. "Minister. I appreciate your concern, but I cannot hide my nature, even to go outside."

"Cannot, or will not?"

The heron drew back slightly. "I-- it's impossible. I don't know how you--"

"A spell. It's a spell I studied before coming to the capitol." Sephiran said. Kilvas was listening; the other's glances would have told him, if he were not already familiar with the raven's habits. They had to be careful. "Your wings can be hidden. I can perform it if you are unable to, and stay by your side until you're accustomed to the difference."

Rafiel's eyes strayed to the point behind his shoulders. "What else?"

"Your hair should be bound." Sephiran pulled the robes into his lap and unfolded them. "It is not unusual for clergy and other scholars to move between provinces in pursuit of their research. Your fluency in the old tongue will function nicely in that capacity."

The prince looked away. Sephiran heard his wings shift, but the gesture was so minute he didn't see any movement - just a shift of muscle at the base, where the softer feathers covered skin until the bone met with his back. They looked so heavy.

"Why are you here?" Rafiel pitched his voice low. It almost didn't carry. "You have another name. Why aren't you using it?"

Though he was expecting the question, the answers he'd composed since meeting Rafiel were inadequate when he considered them again. "Will you accept my assistance?" Sephiran asked, pressing an embroidered cuff between his fingers. White silk, thread of gold. "Hiding your presence from our visitor will be that much easier if we aren't making the trip down here to consult with you every day."

"Is that so." Rafiel sighed, pushed his hair over a wing with a sharp motion, and leveled a narrow-eyed stare at him. "Then you will accept me as your guest, Sephiran."

He shrugged to relieve the tightness in his back. He felt their weight, his wings, in the way the prince watched him and the tone in which he said that name. How many of his secrets were whispering into Rafiel's ears as they spoke? How many more would unfurl themselves with the heron prince under his protection?

Did Kilvas have any idea what he'd done, or was it a lucky accident?

Sephiran allowed the prince to pull the costume from his lap and tried to still his thoughts. Sanaki would be waiting for him upstairs, and he would be no use to her if his own worries interfered with their business. The matter of the Daein prince was not going quite as planned. Having Rafiel taken care of would ease her mind. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer better accommodations? Servants talk, and rumors seldom bear much resemblance to the truth."

The heron's mouth curved. "You don't want Naesala nosing around your rooms, is that it? He'll be good."

Well, if he wasn't worried-- Sephiran would endure it. He'd heard worse since the last Apostle's assassination, so a little speculation wouldn't hurt his feelings. "Brace yourself," he said, rising to approach Rafiel. "This will be uncomfortable."


*


"So the Daein prince has been beset by bad weather," Sanaki said from behind her dressing screen, "and Duke Hetzel will need time to respond to your summons because he has fled to Asmin. I don't see a problem."

Sephiran waited on the edge of her bed with the velvet mantle he'd commissioned folded on his lap. Thick scrolls were worked onto the hem in crimson thread, accented with flowers of long crystal beads sewn between them. It must have already been started by the time the Minister of Ceremonies mentioned it to be done so quickly. "The road between Seliora and Serenes is extremely difficult this time of year. We should send aid."

"Because that would be the polite thing to do?" Sanaki rounded the screen in an empire-waisted gown of white brocade stitched with tiny clusters of flowers and long, sheer, flowing sleeves. The back hem whispered over the rug when she padded to her mirror. "But I'm told we're very rude here in Begnion - I'd hate to disappoint."

"You don't want to ease him past our cultural differences and--"

"No."

"His party will need help, and enabling the prince to make an early arrival will give us an excuse to call Hetzel back immediately." He watched her turn around and twist to see herself from the back. The folds curved around her frame. "If not that, we need another pretext to pull him in."

The empress finally turned to him, hands on her hips. "What about his mishandling of government funds? That's reason enough to drag him back by the ear. I can't believe he did that."

Sephiran looked away, focusing on the sheen of her hair reflected in the mirror. "The others will want to know why he did it, and we want to keep them as far away from that topic as possible." At her sigh he slid his gaze back to her. "It looks nice on you."

"What?" Sanaki stared at him, blinking slowly, and then straightened. "Oh. Thank you." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and walked quickly to the screen.

The afternoon was fading to a dark gray, clustered with heavy clouds that hid the sunlight, and her curtains dimmed it further until it felt like evening was already upon them. He set the mantle aside and got up to light the lamp on her bedside table, then went to each lamp on her walls with a matchstick. His extra rooms should have been cleaned and aired out by now, and Kilvas would have escorted the heron prince upstairs and made him comfortable. He should be there helping his guest to adjust. There wasn't much to be done, but losing one's wings was an unnerving experience, even if it was temporary and reversible.

Sephiran blew the match out and pulled the curtains closed. It took him nearly a week to accustom himself to walking around without wings at his back. Without their weight he never felt he was standing straight, and it took days of stumbling and tripping to learn he had to break a fall with his hands instead of simply levitating from the ground. There was no one to help him at that time - Zelgius came later.

"Kilvas told me you decided to take Prince Rafiel in," Sanaki said after the silence had stretched for a few minutes. He heard her come around the screen again. "I assume you wouldn't do this unless you were sure of his safety, but it seems careless to me."

He left the window, let the curtains fall together into an impenetrable violet wall, and walked around the bed. "I--" Sephiran stared at her reflection in the mirror and their eyes locked. "Not that one."

"Why?" She looked down, tugged the braided neckline where it curved down between her breasts to form a heart. "It's cut more snugly than what I'm used to, but it fits well. I like it." Sanaki frowned at him in the glass. "Is something off? Does it look bad?"

"...No. No, it looks fine." The bodice hugged her waist and flared out over her hips, and it was just the perfect shape to fit his hands if he reached out to her. The deep indigo shade made her skin glow a creamy white. He made himself look up to meet her eyes again. "If you like it--"

"--then you like it?" Sanaki spun, and the skirt flared and gathered on the rug and around her ankles when it stilled. The back laced up in vintage style with a blue cord. "It should get his attention, yes? I should have more made."

It would get anyone's attention. "I'm sure you'll be invited to functions where it will be useful."

She twisted her arms back to adjust the cord, watching him again in the mirror with a slight frown. He couldn't hold her gaze for every long, and turned to take his place at the foot of her bed again where the curtain draped down, tied to the post, and the lace trim shielded part of his face from her scrutiny.

It wasn't a bad choice. If she hadn't made a habit of dressing conservatively - because she preferred her subordinates to look her in the eye when she spoke to them, she'd said - perhaps he would be used to the idea. He didn't control her wardrobe or her life, whatever that fool minister wanted to claim, nor did he want to - usually. "Tell me," Sephiran said, wishing for something to do with his hands. Something he could look at, concentrate on, other than her. "If the prince makes overtures during his visit, will you accept?"

Sanaki finished her adjustments and let her hands fall to her sides to hide in the folds of her skirt. "What kind of overtures are we talking about?" He arched an eyebrow and she shrugged. "That depends entirely on how he asks me and whether I think he's a fool or not. If men here in Sienne are any measure, his chances are bad."

His lip quirked up. "We aren't all like your senators. Only most."

"You aren't." She gathered handfuls of her skirt and joined him on the bed, pulling the folded mantle into her lap. Her fingers stroked the velvet. "I never see you involving yourself in courtship. Why is that?"

"I've made it a point not to form entanglements like that."

"But why?" Sanaki hugged the fabric to her chest. "Don't you get lonely? Even Oliver has a mistress."

Sephiran watched her fingers curl around the vermilion, hands cuffed almost to the knuckles in blue silk sewn with dark beads. Someday they would grow stiff with age and the skin would wrinkle, the joints stand out. He'd thought that problem through long ago, and decided he could endure that; it was, after all, a change only skin-deep, and the soul beneath would never decay. Sanaki would live a longer life than Altina, and she would bear age with grace, as she bore everything else. He understood it better than when he was younger - age, time, mortal fragility.

Herons were unlucky creatures, bound to life so much longer than their brethren. Several generations had passed since his own birth - but not many. Not that many.

"You're enough," he said. "I've been happy watching over you."

Sanaki turned her face forward. Tendrils of hair escaped her combs and fell to tangle with the cord binding her dress. "But I feel the same way. I don't want to include anyone else."

Her face gave nothing away, though her posture was stiff and her fingers were creasing the velvet. Had he misjudged her motivations? Sephiran loosened their grip and set it aside. Change was inevitable; time moved like a whirlwind in a world ruled by beorc, and they didn't even know it. If they settled down, lived more placidly, maybe they would find the same peace in life he knew from Goldoa, and from the old world, when people of both races lived longer and less violently.

Sometimes he wished they'd found Sanaki's sister so someone else would be obligated to sit on the throne. He would have remained her guardian - he could have taken her away to a more peaceful life. Then, if he wished, he could give in and do as she asked. He could tell her the things he kept from her now, and not wonder if she would wheedle the truth from Rafiel, or if Kilvas would show one of his ungodly streaks of luck and uncover a detail that would unlock the others.

"I understand." His hands itched to pull her closer, but he kept them still.

"Well." She pulled her combs loose and let her hair unfurl. "We should send riders, shouldn't we?"

Sephiran gave in and reached to comb his fingers through the dark length of her hair and pull it away from her laces. It smelled sweet, like vanilla and honey. "Yes."

"Of course." Sanaki sighed lowered her head to her hands. Her fingers massaged her temples. "Before the night is out it will be done."

It should have been a relief to hear her say that. "There are things I must tell you about him before he arrives."

Her head turned slightly. "Do you mind if, maybe--"

Sephiran shook his head. "That will be fine."

"You haven't explained why you brought the heron prince out of the safe room."

"I couldn't leave him down there," he said, breathing deeply for her scent. "Without air and freedom, a heron will wilt and die like a flower. It would be no different than starving him."

Sanaki stayed quiet. Sephiran tried not to think in metaphors.


*


Before returning to his rooms, Sephiran delivered Sanaki's order to the dragon riders and penned a note to call Zelgius back from Persis, with instructions to retrieve Hetzel on the way. When he entered his parlor it was well after nightfall. The lamps were lit, the fire flared brightly, and the prince was seated on the ottoman Kilvas usually claimed for himself, the raven a shadow behind him.

"You said this would be a short meeting," the raven king said. "What took so long?"

"Business," Sephiran said, leaning his staff in its corner. "The empress sent me on a few errands. It shouldn't have been a problem."

"Do you have any idea how many people come through these rooms in a single day? You said it would be safe--"

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and turned around. "Are you incapable of protecting him without my presence?"

Rafiel drove his elbow into the raven's leg before he could reply. "Do you two ever get along?"

Kilvas snapped his wings, but backed off a step. "Hasn't happened yet, no."

Sephiran smiled and joined them at the fireplace, sitting at the edge of his armchair. With his hair bound into a long golden tail and his wings hidden, the prince could have belonged to one of the northern clans easily - maybe even the family from Salinos he'd claimed for himself so many years ago. No one familiar with herons would miss the glow to his eyes or skin, but he chose each of his personal servants with that criteria in mind. They were all from Persis, and not one had ever laid eyes on a member of his clan.

"It's just as well they've seen him," he said to Kilvas. "When word that I have a beautiful guest spreads, the collective imagination will do all the work for us. Keep him away from the nobles and he'll be fine."

"That's supposed to make me feel better, huh." Naesala folded his arms, and though his shoulders slouched, his wings were too stiff and still for him to be truly relaxed. "Well, he does get around, so--"

"Naesala!"

"Okay maybe he doesn't, but--"

"I'm going to tell Leanne."

Kilvas snapped his mouth shut.

"Leanne?" Sephiran bit the inside of his lip to control his smile. "Princess Leanne, the youngest of your clan?"

"Correct." Rafiel turned his head to look back at his companion. "Naesala is--"

"Hey. You have no business laughing, Senator." Kilvas bared his teeth in a grin. "Duke Tanas is a little infatuated with you. Does he visit often? He seemed awfully interested in getting in."

Sephiran leaned back a hair. That smile never preceded anything good. "No." Hetzel wouldn't have told Oliver-- would he? They both knew what the man was like. "He might have called about the situation with the prince."

"This prince." Rafiel drew his attention with a brush of his hand, and then leaned back slowly, as if afraid he would lean too far. His companion stilled him with a hand on his shoulder. "Why is he visiting? Naesala said your empress is considering him for marriage--?"

"The senate wants her to," Sephiran said. "She has agreed to think about it."

Rafiel cast his gaze down and wove his fingers together. "Politics? I don't understand why beorc do this to themselves. I thought your people worshiped the Apostle."

"But she is not an Apostle." His empress had, in fact, officially cast the title from her shoulders when it became clear she could not argue her case. She did that on her own, without his advice, and he wasn't sure he'd have been brave enough to counsel her in breaking tradition so boldly. "The word of law does not require her to be, but power has shifted to the senate since that... incident."

"Why are you going along with this again?" Kilvas folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the mantle. "I thought you opposed everything Lekain did on principle."

That was high fantasy if he'd ever heard it. He would like to; if Sephiran were to list the things he'd wanted to do regarding that man, protesting his installation as Duke of Gaddos would have been first. That was where it all started. "They'll lose support if they put too much weight behind Daein's case. With luck, your case will tip the balance again, and she will be able to put a stop to this nonsense." He flicked his gaze to the raven king. "It is also a good opportunity to examine the senior council's involvement with Daein. I suspect at least one or two have strong connections to the royal family."

"I'll bet you a thousand gold," the raven said, straightening to retie his hair, "that it's the usual troublemakers, and they're so tied up with Ashnard it's obscene."

Sephiran granted him a thin-lipped smile. "Thank you, but no. My resources are otherwise occupied."

Kilvas chuckled. "Good choice."


.......................................................

Looks like Soren will arrive during Sanaki's chapter after all. Funny, I'd joked it would take me seven installments, but never believed it until now.

Maybe I should delay longer with an interlude. Some kind of transition to pass the time in-story would be nice. I don't think I've done a good job with that, and I didn't really end this the way I should have if I'm going to begin a new leg of the story. Hmmm.

I won't have a good idea of any big changes that need to be made until the story is complete and I can take everything into account. I guess I should stop worrying about it. That's really hard, though.

.

Comments

[lazulidragon.livejournal.com]

I'm really enjoying your Rafiel, here, without all the ANGST ANGST ANGST from the Serenes Massacre weighing him down. His friendship with Naesala is great!

[runiclore.livejournal.com]

Thank you~ I wasn't sure how they'd turn out at first, but it's a nice surprise. They interact so little in RD that I remember.

The fangirl in me wants to write happy herons.

[oniric-angel.livejournal.com]

And the fangirl in me says you should listen to your inner-fangirl.

That, and I loved that chapter ! The Sephiran Rafiel Naesala interaction was priceless. @___@

[runiclore.livejournal.com]

Thank you, I'm glad you liked~ I have to admit, I'm a sucker for scenes where Sephiran and Naesala bicker, because it seems like they would. Their personalities just aren't compatible. XD