rhy maresh (goldenhelm) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-07-21 14:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !log/thread, alucard emery, rhy maresh |
WHO: Rhy & Alucard
WHAT: Brief talk of their future at home, & then talking about Alucard's sister possibly showing up here.
WHEN: Tonight
WHERE: Maresh Palace
WARNINGS: Mentions of canon character deaths, lots of feels
Rhy had briefly gotten into the habit of practicing magic in the evenings, but he had noticed that Alucard’s mood seemed to be worse when he returned from that. So he practiced in the afternoon instead, and then joined Alucard and Kell for dinner, and then went directly back to the bedroom with Alucard.
It was not unusual for either of them to be somewhat moody in the evenings, and so he didn’t ask. He held Alucard’s hand as they walked back to the bedroom, and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his lover’s knuckles. “I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, and paused to kiss Alucard’s palm, “About our heir. And I think we should adopt.”
That would, hopefully, cheer his lover at least a little bit, though it depended on what exactly was bringing Alucard’s mood down. It was a logistically easy solution to their problem, though choosing the child and getting the people to accept him or her as their next ruler might not be. Rhy was tired of worrying about whether the people would accept what his heart wanted, though. He was tired of thinking about what kind of sacrifice he could make for the magic that might grant them a child of both their bloodlines. And he was even more weary of thinking about any option that involved having to be with a woman that he didn’t think he could love, not truly, no matter how wonderful she was. He just wanted Alucard, and a child that he could raise, and love, and teach everything he knew.
--
While his mood was not always something which could be helped, Alucard’s actions were under his control. He recognized the difference between Kell doing something that got under his skin and the very sight of him being a thorn in Alucard’s side. It was not even something that Kell had any control over, and for that reason Alucard absolutely refused to let himself lash out at Rhy’s brother - that title did not help in this moment - and damage what rapport they had built. Once they reached Rhy’s room, Alucard could let himself be as moody as he felt. Rhy understood that it was a problem they had in common, one stronger in the evenings.
The walk was a hold to that moment of promised relaxation, even were he to give in to that mood entirely, for one night, this night. Alucard had not been expecting Rhy to raise so serious an issue as they went down a hallway. But stop Alucard did as well.
They did not need an heir here, so Rhy could only have been speaking of Arnes, of what they could and possibly would do there. The uncertain future. Adoption meant the end of the Maresh line, at least so far as it went by blood. Unless Beras grew suddenly more charming and successful with ladies, it could also mean the same thing for the Emery family. The two most royal families, of the longest highest histories, put out like a dying fire.
It was one of the only solutions that meant they could be together just the two of them. Alucard had thought of it when he had been at sea, when the reality of being with Rhy was simply a dream (not an idle daydream, as those did not come with so much politics and concern with the unpleasant details of reality). But he had not raised it because it could have asked too much of Rhy. So he looked at Rhy, shocked still for a couple moments, before a smile, only still tinted with the emotional baggage Alucard carried then, rose across his face. “Truly?” Alucard checked again. He knew what that meant, and he had not permitted himself to truly wish for it, not in Arnes, not then, not ever.
--
It was so good to see Alucard smile like that. Rhy knew him well enough to be able to tell that whatever was bothering him had not gone, but he was smiling anyway. Part of Rhy was glad that the mood, apparently, had nothing to do with their future, because as much as he hated the feeling of his own worries for it hanging over him, it bothered him even more to think about what it felt like to Alucard.
“Truly,” he answered, smiling back. He squeezed Alucard’s hand, gently. “It is the option that would make both of us the happiest, I think. And the longer I think about how much it would cost us to try to prioritize what the people would want the most -- some of them, at least -- the more it feels like the cost is too high.”
He ran his thumb over Alucard’s palm. “I have faith that we can convince those who can be convinced, to accept both our marriage and our child. And anyone who cannot be convinced is likely to be against us regardless of what we do.”
--
His heart ached, torn apart with happiness and melancholy at the same time. His head felt light, as though they returned from a night out at taverns instead of a small family dinner where they lived. It made their return to Arnes look far more promising. Even if they remembered nothing, the fact that Rhy had reached that conclusion here meant there were far better odds he would do so there as well than he would have given it, only moments before. It had been an issue Alucard had left to Rhy to resolve, to determine what he was willing to do, the balance between Alucard and Arnes, the expectations and hopes each had.
The words were familiar ones, the logic one so emotional that Alucard had not entirely trusted it, had not trusted it would have the same weight to Rhy, who had lived his whole life preparing to be king, bearing the burdens that required. There it was, said aloud, to him by the one person whose opinion on the issue mattered. Alucard’s mattered, of course. But his feelings on this solution were an easy one to guess. It had never taken much consideration to know Alucard would accept it.
He leaned, closing the distance between them, to kiss Rhy. Those words were more than Alucard had dreamt of getting. The smile stayed when he pulled back and slowly took another step toward Rhy’s room, though they were something more like theirs by this point. Alucard did not even make an appearance in his own rooms for good show, there being no one to make such a show for. “We will do right by them,” by Arnes, by their child, “that will show.” Those who were willing to see. The rest, they would deal with.
It did not change what happened here. But the future held something to look forward to. Alucard could hold onto that. Even with his moods.
--
Rhy felt the weight disappear, the weight that both of them were carrying. He smiled against Alucard’s lips as he kissed back, his free hand coming up to press against Alucard’s cheek. It would have been good news to give under any circumstances, but he was especially glad to be able to cheer Alucard when he was feeling down.
“We will,” he agreed. He kissed Alucard again, and then murmured, “It’s good to see you smile, love.”
It wasn’t that Alucard hadn’t been smiling at all recently, but not in quite the same way. He was allowed to be moody, of course, but Rhy’s heart ached for him whenever he was.
--
Were the good news something smaller, something less extraordinary and life changing, the most ideal future they could make for themselves, Rhy’s concern about Alucard’s smiles of late might have chased away what Rhy had brought out. As it was, the recognition of the darker moods Alucard had struggled with of late, different but no more or less dark than others he had known for years, did not negate or greatly decrease the happiness that filled his heart. It reminded him of the pain he suffered each day they were in this place, no less true in this moment than any other.
There were plenty of good things about this place, about being here. The time he and Rhy had together, the freedom to explore many options that would have been more difficult, if not impossible, while ruling a country and picking up the pieces Osaron’s attempt at playing king had left, these were all incredible. Alucard kept himself conscious of them, so that they did not sink beneath pain and darkness. He had refused to succumb to any darkness before, and that would hold true here as well.
“I have never looked forward to our future together in Arnes more,” Alucard said honestly. It was the source of his present happiness, the words something which only affected them at home, not here. But given that future, which whether they returned themselves to it or another version of themselves lived it, was something worth being that happy about. “Though, I want you to know, that future, our future and Arnes’, is not what has darkened my brow,” Alucard continued on. He had trusted Rhy, as much as he had forced himself to be ready to do what was right by them, whatever that was. Even had it taken walking away. Beyond that, there had been little for Alucard to do, nothing but his mind made up, his heart braced.
--
“I know,” Rhy answered. “Or… I had guessed. I just wanted to give you some good news.” He kissed Alucard’s cheek, and then pulled gently on his hand. “Come to the bedroom and tell me what’s on your mind.”
It wasn’t much farther down the hallway, and Rhy hadn’t intended to stop them here. He had a feeling that whatever could still make Alucard’s mood darken was something he didn’t want to talk about outside of their bedroom, even though the palace was very nearly empty, and Kell was not close enough to overhear. Rhy didn’t know exactly where his brother was, but he could approximate the distance, because of the bond between them, and it was definitely out of earshot.
--
Alucard gave a small nod in acknowledgement. He did not try to hide his moods from Rhy, even when they did not speak of what specific nightmares they had or what possible situation tormented Alucard as he lied, attempting to sleep. Rhy was still there for him, had changed his schedule to be there during Alucard’s poor moods. And Alucard did the same for Rhy, sensitive to the nightmares. Sometimes Alucard woke up first, even when he was sleeping well.
Having acknowledged his latest mood aloud, Alucard knew it was time to share it with Rhy. Even though there was nothing either of them could do, nothing anyone could do about it. No course of action that would influence what happened. There was only waiting and seeing, with no way of determining when hope, when chance of happiness, was gone. Alucard had struggled rather than accepted that helplessness.
Rhy’s room was a place of comfort and familiarity. Private and all the more private for the warding Alucard had raised around it, shining cheerfully with the usual castle protection spells. He sighed, slightly, once across its threshold. Esa was the only reminder of his sister in the whole room. Said cat made her way over to Alucard, and he picked her up in an easy action. One hand slowly stroked her as Alucard considered what he was going to tell Rhy.
He chose to sit on the couch, where they could be together, the small unity a measure that could decrease what distance lay between them. “This place… is separate from our times and places,” Alucard stated as groundwork. “Kell, Holland, you, me, we each come from a separate point in time, not affected by what our future holds.” By this year, 2018, they were all surely dead, no matter what else happened. But Holland was no more dead for being the first of the four of them to die, to be dead when Alucard came from. And that was just the start of it. Alucard was not truly invested terribly whether Holland lived or died.
“We are used to saying goodbye when someone dies,” Alucard continued, aware it was a painful point for Rhy as well as him. “Nothing of them remains. We do not believe in immutable souls. However much it hurts, they are gone, and we must heal and move on.” And so Alucard had started doing. So he had been forced to do. But here, in this place, that healing had been drawn back, like the scab from a wound. It left him fresh and raw, unable to let go.
“But she could be here,” Alucard said. “If Holland can be here, she could. There is no reason why Kell should be from the time she lives but she is not.” And nothing Alucard could do about it. He studied the portal but held no hope his understanding would permit him to thread the needle of time, to bring Anisa here, where she could grow up, where she could live.
--
Rhy sat close to Alucard on the couch, pressed against his side to offer what nonverbal comfort he could. He rested one hand on Alucard’s thigh, and his fingers lightly brushed Esa’s soft fur at her hip.
A slight crease of a frown appeared on his brow at the mention of Holland’s name, but he didn’t say anything. The next sentences did, indeed, cause a flare of unexpected hurt. Especially because he had been reminded recently that he had not, in fact, said proper goodbyes to his parents. But he said nothing about that either; this was not the moment for it.
“She deserves to be here more than he does,” he said quietly. “Unquestionably.”
There was unfortunately very little else he could say. He had no control over whether Anisa came here, and if there were words that would ease the difficulty of waiting, they weren’t coming to mind.
--
Unfortunately deserve seemed to have little to do with whether one was here or not. Or needed. As painful as the thought of Anisa being here without him was, Alucard would have given his place here for her in a moment. Alucard had a future in Arnes, one that would end one day as everyone’s did, but it was a brighter future than it had felt a handful of minutes before. Even without that, it was a future, one at all.
Anisa could be here. It was dangerous logic, possibility, one that applied to everyone ever of all time, every person they had ever known. Alucard mourned more than Anisa, but she was the only one who consumed his thoughts, whose early death was so hard to let go of here. His mind was creative and thorough; it had already reached the conclusion Reson Emery could step through the portal. But whether Alucard used his bare hands in the base, magic outside it, or anything else, he felt confident he could handle his father’s arrival, namely in a lethal fashion. It would sour many people here toward him, but Reson Emery was a risk to the lives of anyone he interacted with. His mother could also arrive, a distant fond memory from Alucard’s youth. But he had long accepted and moved on from her death. Anisa, hers was the one that stuck, whenever nothing else occupied his mind.
“The injustice of her absence, the constant continued possibility,” Alucard shook his head, “It feels like her death has stretched from one of the worst moments of my life to one that carries on to this day, a part of time without clear ending.” Whenever the day faded away and the darkness became louder than the rest. And this, these thoughts, louder than the rest. Alucard had even watched her death in the liran, in an attempt to force his heart to accept the truth. Anisa was dead. The possibility that could change did not negate that.
--
Rhy truly didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t fix it. The only thing he could actually do was to try to help Alucard find some kind of closure, but he wasn’t sure there was any closure to be found. Not without having a definite answer, one way or the other, about whether the portal could or could not bring her here.
He had, perhaps, done all that he could do by taking away all of Alucard’s worries in regards to their future at home. But as for their future here, Rhy had no answers. He liked this place, but he was more homesick than he had admitted to anyone, and he certainly couldn’t mention it now. If he could have traded places with Anisa, that was a context in which he could have said something. It would have meant leaving Alucard behind, which would hurt, but if it meant that Anisa had a future…. But he had no control over that, either, and there was no point to that train of thought. He swallowed all of that down and refocused on figuring out what he could say, what might actually be of some small use.
“Is there anything,” he said after a moment, “That you, or we, could do to make the waiting easier?”
--
His mood continued to sink. Sure, part of it soared, buoyed on the joy of the future they had. But the division between the good and the bad only grew. The abyss that had held him, deeper and deeper into its bosom as the weeks went on, greeted his return. The ache was familiar, rooted so much a part of him that it was simply a part of him. Fresh wounds had trouble healing, and this one had been held open, was still being held apart from healing.
It was not a terribly kind trauma to lay at Rhy’s feet. But it was Alucard’s. Rhy asked a question that Alucard had considered time and again. The only possibility open to them. His first pained reaction was that he didn’t know, but Alucard had greater self-control than his thoughts. So those useless words did not escape his mouth.
His breathing was of focus for a five count, for seconds that passed quickly. What would he be able to do if she arrived? “Perhaps,” Alucard started because there was no guarantee that it would help, or that if it did that help would outlast the time it took to do, “we could prepare for her arrival, for what she would need.” A room. The probability of school. The practical and involved. Alucard was better at resisting his moods when he was busy. And maybe if they did something, anything at all, that would feel better than the nothing he managed now.
--
That actually made Rhy smile. It was such a simple, and sweet, thing to do -- though he, too, saw the potential for added misery in it, but they could find a way to keep having something to do to prepare. “Of course we could.”
He turned his head to look at Alucard directly. Unexpectedly, his heart ached when he looked at his lover’s face, but he ignored that for the moment. “She is, of course, welcome to take a room -- or multiple rooms -- here in the palace.”
--
Rhy’s agreement, expected, the farthest thing from shocking, was still a slight balm amid the emotional unrest turning his gaze on his misery, fully looking it in its face. There were so many good things, in his life, in life here, so many smaller sorrows he knew how to handle. It was only this large one that had consumed him.
Alucard nodded. He had expected as much. Indeed, he had spent a little time in thought as to which rooms Anisa could take. Not the queen’s. Not the king’s. They were too freshly dead themselves, and Alucard doubted Rhy was ready to do that to their rooms. But even in the wing that Rhy, Kell, and Alucard occupied, there were other rooms, rooms far enough away that they could still have privacy but all be living together.
“I expect some of her things, her clothes and books, would show up were she to,” Alucard hurt just saying that sentence aloud. Just speaking about it. “But she would still need modern clothes and space for modern things, as much as the rest of us. More, perhaps, as young as she…” he paused when he tried to choose the right word. Is wasn’t it. “Would be,” Alucard finished.
“I would love to have her here,” Alucard said. Then he closed his eyes a moment. The words had reminded him of so much loss. Not just that she was not in their lives here. But Alucard had dreamed, before he had wooed Rhy, before he had returned, that a day could come when Anisa lived with them instead of his brother. That Alucard would have been able to get her away from their brother, from the miserable estate he had brought to its knees.
--
Rhy could see the slight ease, and still the slight toll, that this way of moving forward was taking. He let Alucard continue wherever this train of thought was taking him. When Alucard seemed to have finished, and closed his eyes, Rhy leaned in, resting his head against his lover’s.
“We’ll go shopping,” he said quietly. “We can start tomorrow, if you like.”
It was too late to start now, and the wound probably too fresh. In the morning this would be easier to tackle with renewed energy, after having recovered from the emotional work of this moment. Rhy definitely needed a moment to breathe, to process his own feelings, which for the moment he was taking care not to examine too closely. This moment was about Alucard, not him.
--
Alucard leaned back against Rhy. Where some of his dark thoughts led him, Rhy could likely guess. But Alucard did not want to voice them all aloud, to give them the power that would do. Sometimes speaking things took away their power over him. Other times it was the opposite. So far, his fear was neither any less nor any greater for having told Rhy about it. That was enough, as much as they both had dead that haunted them. Alucard did not trust what words he would use, were he to say something to Kell. And he had no great desire to show this misery to the world. Though he was certainly neither the first nor the only one here to deal with such losses, with the possibility of someone returning, and with either their appearance or continued absence.
At first he just breathed, thinking about those words. Alucard had purchased Anisa clothes often and recently enough to know her sixes, to be able to choose clothes that would fit her. Trying to guess what she would like in modern fashion was, perhaps, more challenging. But then, that did not have to something painful. It could be fun. “I would like that,” Alucard said. Even with the availability of shopping from the comfort of one’s own home, it was not a nighttime activity for them.
It was so easy to wallow in those feelings, to lose himself in them and their pain. But Alucard tried - was trying - not to do that. “I know,” Alucard said softly, “she’s not the only one we’ve lost.” Even selfishly, Alucard had lost a good portion of his crew, people who had made more of a family with him than his own had, Anisa being the exception. And Rhy had lost his parents, suddenly and sharply. As well as guards and others he had known much of his life. All of London knew loss, from the richest and most powerful to the poorest living in squalor. The whole city was working on healing, back home. Here, there were only a few of them.
--
Rhy suspected that Alucard might have noticed his own slightly darker mood, and was guessing at the cause. But he was, in fact, not thinking about his parents at that particular moment, or of anyone else he had lost. He was very carefully not thinking about anything except what they might do for Anisa, and it was not his grief for his parents that he was avoiding. That already felt like an older wound, at least compared to the new, fresher thorn that had gotten stuck in his heart in the last few minutes.
“No,” he said quietly, “But she is the most missed.” Saying that made him feel a little guilty, because he did not miss his parents in the way that Alucard missed his sister. He would not mind if the portal brought his parents here, but that would cause as much upset as it would relief, for all three of them that were here already (not counting Holland). Rhy suspected that they would not approve of his choices for the future and did not particularly feel like having the confrontation which would confirm as much.
But only good things would come from Anisa’s arrival, or at least, more than enough good to outweigh any less pleasant emotions that her presence might bring. She would be alive, and Alucard would no longer be tormented by the fact that she could come but hadn’t yet. Rhy did genuinely want both of those things to happen, for Anisa’s sake and for Alucard’s, even though the conversation about it had awoken some new emotion in him that he didn’t want to consider too closely until he was alone. He was afraid, he realized, of where that train of thought would take him, and even more afraid of what Alucard might think.
He let out a breath. “I may not have put my parents to rest yet, officially, but in my heart, I have already said my goodbyes. I can feel that their time is over, no matter whether I miss them. The possibility of their return doesn’t hang over me, as Anisa’s does for you.”
--
Alucard accepted that answer. He missed his sister so terribly it was easy to accept, to know that to be true. Everyone else Alucard had lost, those Rhy had lost, they had all been adults. They had lived and done thing with their lives, whether that had been sailing or ruling or guarding or whatever else. Lenos, who had been only a few years out of childhood, had still seen much of the world aboard Alucard’s ship, ranging far from his childhood home. Their losses were sad, and given certain circumstances, heartbreaking. But they had lived, and aboard the Night Spire they had all faced the possibility of their deaths time and time again. Anisa should have had more.
There was, admittedly, something different to Rhy’s parents’ death than to those belonging to most other people. It marked the start of Rhy’s reign, the time that he had to step up and to rule and to do as he saw best. And he had done just that. Among those who ruled, there was no expectation to hear what one’s predecessors thought of one’s actions. By virtue of doing them, it was impossible to hear. Just then, Rhy sounded truly as much of a king as he was.
It did not answer what darkness had overcome Rhy with this confession, but Alucard did not ask. Possibly, Rhy did not know. And if he did, he was not choosing to share it just then. Admittedly, considering that, considering that unknown possibility had distracted Alucard from the pain in his heart. It was something external, something beyond himself. A puzzle of sorts, one he trusted to hear from Rhy in time. For now, he could watch and observe.
Alucard turned, so that he could lean back against Rhy, so he could release some of the tension inside him. Whatever he had to learn from Rhy, he wanted and appreciated that comfort and companionship.
--
Rhy did not entirely know what to make of Alucard’s silence. He seemed to have accepted what Rhy had said, but was either still thinking on it, or still wondering what was on Rhy’s mind. He certainly knew Rhy well enough that it was very unlikely he’d missed the subtle signs of Rhy being hurt, no matter how carefully Rhy had worked to conceal it even from himself. But he also knew well enough not to ask, for which Rhy was grateful.
He shifted slightly, and wrapped both of his arms around Alucard as his lover leaned against him, his hold warm and steady. Whatever else was going on his heart, he loved Alucard still, and always would. The depth with which Alucard loved his sister only cemented that, and Rhy was certain he would have felt very much the same if their positions had been reversed, if it had been Kell who’d died too young and Rhy left hoping for his return but unable to do anything about it. Just thinking about it gave him a taste of what Alucard must be feeling, and it was awful.
Quietly, he pressed a kiss to Alucard’s hair, and sent a silent prayer to the portal to grant his lover’s wish. The thorn in his heart dug in deeper as he did, but he ignored it.
“I love you,” he murmured in Alucard’s ear, offering what warmth and comfort he could.
--
Alucard settled where they were. It was not the bed, and it would, in time, be wise to change their clothes (or at least remove them) and to retire to the bed, where they could sleep more comfortably for the night. But he was not inclined to leave Rhy’s arms just then, not for some length of time. Even knowing the promise of the best possible future, back home, Alucard appreciated having Rhy here and now, where they had more time together than they ever could while ruling a kingdom. It was important work, that, and Alucard had prepared himself for it as best he could, so as to be a strong partner. But this felt more like being at sea or, there not being a ship anymore, being at some port along a distant and unimportant stretch of coast. At least for a while.
His eyes were half-closed, and he felt more comfortable than he had in many evenings. “And I love you,” he whispered in return, just loud enough to be heard, given his mouth was farther from Rhy’s ear. One hand rested atop Rhy’s, and Alucard sighed softly. The pain had not entirely gone away. But Rhy’s presence eased it. He appreciated every evening with his lover, every moment they had together.