hellbound. (earinor & akira)

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    • Lucien was, either, the odd one out of all the people Dayan ever had had the (mis)fortune of knowing, or he himself was the odd one out, the person that didn't want to saddle himself, or anyone, with unecessary feelings or the likes thereof. It seemed almost as if the redhead he'd been saddled with was from a different world, to say the least; bossing around servants or asking for enormous amounts of help from them had never been his call to make, even if he had been - in name only - a prince and subsequently the kings son, yet not the rightful heir to anything. "You like shooing people around? How come you haven't bossed me around yet, then?", he inquired, simply feeling his stomach turn whenever Lucien managed to sneak ina remark about how big and pompous his coronation would be eventually. Did he do that on purpose? Hardly, there wasn't anything he'd gain from that, or at least there was nothing Dayan could think of, at least for now - what a pain. "The warmth is nice and all, but I can't stand either all that much. I'm better at composing myself when it comes to the cold, yes, but that's just about anything I can offer up." Besides, a bit of heat wouldn't melt him, not like it seemingly did to his father or even partially Caelan, but ... Dayan prefered Myriads climate, if he was honest, though, maybe Alsters was better for him, or even Fhaergus'; not that he could just freely pick where he wanted his palace to be, though. "I hope this will be a rather short chapter in my life, actually. I'd much prefer it if Richard came back and picked up the crown."

      Dayan felt uneasy to say the least - it wasn't that he didn't have any love for his country or his people, or even the traditions that came with his upbringing, no - quite the opposite actually. However, it also felt as if he'd been handed the most precious and fragile gemstone of all, to keep close and hide away from the public eye, lest someone else coveted it and let that kingdom of his crumble to fine dust. If he were to be honest none of all those things were what he ever thought he'd be doing, let alone what he wanted to be doing, which was why he grimaced at his fellow noble at best, almost apologetically for his original shortcomings. "Fine, fine - if you're dying to have some work on your hands and you keep asking, I can hardly keep denying you, can I now? You may do as you please starting tomorrow morning.", he voiced, sounding a bit exasperated and not all that convinced of his own words, though, he just handed over the reins to Lucien, somewhat happy that all the weight wasn't resting on his shoulders anymore; he'd not die anytime soon, which was a plus to begin with. "Just a roundtrip, then? I'm fine with that, as long as you don't insist we take a carriage." Those were no fun and you always had someone eavesdropping involuntarily, not to mention that they got stuffy rather quick - if anything, Dayan prefered to be out and about on his own or with Richard, who very much counted as his better half in a lot of things. Eventually, though, he stopped in his tracks, right in front of Luciens room - there was no need to intrude and he'd much prefer some alone time after an exhausting day like this; a laughable statement, especially for the person that Dayan used to be. "I do have to start somewhere, rather sooner than later after shunning my duties, don't I? I'm quite the shitty pick for a king.", he grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second. "Forget that, I haven't done anything wrong so for ... and I probably should bid you a good night. However, it also goes without saying that I'm grateful for your help." And if Dayan was terribly honest, Luciens presence was - albeit strangely - comforting. It made the castle less vast and empty, didn't it?
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • "Bossing you around? Well I know my place!", Lucien laughed. "There are numerous people I wouldn't dare shoo around. The king of course, my father, my brother and all the other Lords and Ladies ruling over a country which I will never do." He wouldn't inherit Olette and that was fine, he still had loads of people he could shoo around and he would, especially when he had to plan a big coronation. Even he couldn't do everything himself. He'd do better than Dayan though, because he wasn't shy to tell other people what to do. If he could tell Dayan to forget about his brother, he would though. If his body wasn't found, maybe Lucien had to make up some evidence, or at least he should 'shoo' some more people around to find him, if his father didn't already. Richard dropped out of the equation a long time ago. Dayan would be king, an impressionable one and Lucien intended to stay at his side, that was his mission after all. "I can do the work? Finally!", he grinned and he would make use of it before Dayan changed his mind because he wasn't drunk, or at least tipsy anymore. "No carriage. I rode here myself too, you know?", he continued grinning, not sure what that trip would be about, but Dayan seemed to need this and Lucien happily filled that empty spot. Lucien opened his door when they arrived in front of it and he kept standing in the doorway to finish their conversation. "You'll be a good king.", Lucien simply said with a smile. "And no need to thank me. Thank you for bringing me here. Good night then." With that Lucien waited for Dayan to turn around before he closed his own door and went to bed.

      Lucien woke up rather early, he was a morning person after all. Once he did he got ready fast. He skipped breakfast, maybe he'd have some later, but first he made use of the privilege to finally do what he came here for, plan the coronation. It wasn't like there was much to plan though, he had had a plan before he even came here, he just needed to organize it and that he started now. Of course Dayan would be able to pick things every now and then, but why trouble him with questions like which flowers to use, or which silver. He'd have enough to pick today when they planned his outfit, but that came later. First Lucien ordered a lot of things that needed to be ready, food, table cloths, flowers, everything had to be already here when the day came. Fresh and plenty. He also met with one of Dayans captains to give them a plan of the path Dayan would take. It needed to be secured at all times and they should start to practice too. The same went for music. When he was done with all that it was still early, but the tailors appointment started soon. Lucien intended to meet Dayan there.

    • Talking to Lucien was an experience, that much seemed to be for sure - but nothing of that was something he wasn't prepared for; Dayan never cared who he spoke to, or at least he tried to be friendly to everyone he met. Why? His word would never matter anyway, at least he thought it never would, and now he ended up here, at the top of Adrestias foodchain, where every single word that fell out of line could be taken the wrong way. He loathed it, more than he loathed the sudden appearance of 'help' that he should have just declined; and yet he didn't, simply because he never looked at all those letters that had piled up on the late kings desk instead - he dreaded his fathers study more than anything, as if ghosts of those long gone were still waltzing among the living, and as soon as he interfered with their undead lives for a second, they'd burst into nothingness, never to be seen again. It would have helped to just read all those letters he got, to get rid of all that reminded him of those that had passed and yet, he felt like he had to honor the dead with every breath of his being - and he was already desecrating their graves by accepting help, that of someone from Olette no less. Was his father already turning in his grave? Dayan hoped he didn't, hoped that Rain would never take not of anything that had transpired after his passing, but those who were superstitious enough begged to differ. Once he'd made his way back to his own room and changed clothing, he still lay awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to avert his thoughts, stuck with them for the forseeable future.

      However late it was, the to-be king didn't care for the knock he'd heard at his door - that wasn't the first time this morning, either, but he'd ignored all those prior to this one, drifting in and out of sleep, as if his dreams were an adequate escape to all those events that had transpired prior to ... well, pretty much all of this. After reassuring her that he was, indeed, very much alive, the maid at the door seemingly sighed in relief and blabbered something about breakfast, yet, Dayan didn't care much for it and dismissed her words before getting dressed and glancing at himself in the mirror - Lucien was right, his hair looked about as fashionable as if a toddler had given itself a haircut and the dark circles under his eyes gave away that the future king of Adrestia wasn't good at sleeping, something nobody could blame him for, though. Why did people keep mirrors, though? Dayan, very suddenly, couldn't find anything likable about himself and the scar on his forehead seemed to be the root of his annoyance, if anything. None of this would have happened if he hadn't been such an idiot - if only he was stronger, a better brother, something, anything - but he was none of that. Maybe a husk, about as useful as that, void of life - and yet, he just turned away and went for a change of clothes, stepping out of his room and mumbling to one of his servants that they should get ahold of someone that could cut his hair today, preferably after his rendezvous with the tailor, shortly before he walked off to where they had been supposed to meet; and it seemed as though both Lucien and the tailor had beat him to it - did he oversleep? No, he seemed to be right on time. After explaining pleasantries however, Dayan soon figured out why he didn't want to be here in the first place - well, he knew he'd have to get over his internalized fears eventually, right? Lucien just had to pick a fabric the tailor pitched to them, it wasn't like they needed measurements, right? Right? "What about this one?", he asked, after the tailor showed them a few; it was very much black with silver trimmings, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. "Then again, this isn't a funeral ...", he mumbled. "M-my apologies, I have plenty of lighter fabrics, your highness."
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • Lucien had already started to look at all the fabrics when Dayan joined them. The tailor initially was a bit confused to see someone like Lucien here, but he didn't dare say anything to a noble like him, so the redhead demanded to see the finest quality fabrics. Most of them were turquois or blue, which made sense for the future king whos adoptive father had ruled over Myriad and Fhaergus alike and who was dressed in similar colors most of the time. There were also darker colors and white, but this wasn't going to be an outfit for a wedding. The image of a pure king with Dayan in the middle wouldn't work either, it would upset those that held a grudge simply because he wasn't technically supposed to be king in the first place and looked if not a lot, but still like a wolf. There were many things Lucien took into consideration planning this coronation. Most of it wasn't up to Dayan, it wasn't for him, it was to appease the nobles and show them, who their new king was and that he earned his place.

      As soon as Dayan walked into the room as well, Lucien turned around and smiled at him cheerfully. "Good morning, your highness!", he greeted him as if it was the most beautiful day to be alive. Dayan looked tired already, but Lucien didn't mind much, instead they got to work and Dayan skimmed through the different fabrics the tailor had laid out for him. Lucien watched him closely as it drew him to the darker colors. That wouldn't do and thankfully Dayan realized that himself. The tailor started to show him brighter colors, mostly blue and some with flower petals, probably because they looked livelier. Some had elaborate patterns in gold or silver, but that too seemed out of place and once Lucien had enough, because in reality he had already picked Dayans outfit, he cleared his throat and stepped in. "May I suggest a fabric?", he asked simply out of formalities. He didn't even wait for the future kings answer, nor did he care about the tailors opinion, which he practically shoved away. He picked up a fabric in a rich emerald green, while he also led Dayan to the large mirror in the room. He would have touched him, hadn't he known better already, so he didn't for now. Still he put the fabric over his shoulder, so he wouldn't just see it lay there, but also could see how it matched with his skin, hair and most importantly his eyes. "I think it is time for change. We have a new king, why wouldn't he pick a suiting new color as well?", Lucien mused with a smile, looking past Dayan into the mirror as well, slightly standing behind him. "For the coronation we can lace the fabric with gold - not too much, just around the bottom and the end of the sleeves.", he proposed softly still curling his lips upward. "After all green stands for renewal and ambition, that will suit our new king, wouldn't you agree?", Lucien asked the tailor, not expecting him to dare and disagree.

    • Pride was one, if not the most important thing that Dayan was supposed to have. Right now, he was nothing more than a disjointed idiot, a doll dragged along by strings that weren't his own, and he couldn't pride himself with any decisions he was about to make. Honoring his late father was, if anything, what he should be doing, but the colors of Fhaergus and likewise Myriad weren't his to wear - Dayan was overprojecting once more, making the situation far worse for himself than it had to be, and yet, shaking off the death of most of his family wasn't easy. His life would be lived marred with guilt, with the desire to join those who had left him, but alas, he couldn't abandon his - Richards - people; he was trapped indefinitely, surrounded by puppets that tried to mend his pain. Lucien was like them, chirping like a bird that had caught a butterfly in its beak; Dayan simply nodded his head at him and mustered a somewhat upbeat expression; one that was soon consumed by his sheer tiredness and overall antsy behavior. Slowly but surely, he guided himself through the arduous task of picking something fit for a king - for a fraud, a sham, bedazzled with blinding jewels and a heavy crown; what a wretched being he was to be.

      As he flipped through his samples, watched the tailor talk and talk about how much better everything would be with a spruce of color, how well the sky-blue hue of Myriad would suit him, but how rich the deep royal blue of Fhaergus appeared on his pale complexion, all the while he guided him away from the depths of the darker, sadder colors that had him enthralled. Soon, however, Lucien broke the ice that had formed between all of them and dug through the many shades of green that they were offered - past the vibrant sage and lush forest colors, all the way to something that Dayan, under any other circumstance, would not only consider hideous but an eyesore. He never hated his looks, not once, even if they seemed outlandish for his heritage and unfit for a king of the fhaergian bloodline, but right now, the emerald green was nothing more than a farce - a sigh followed and his hand trailed to his chin. Dayan was lost deep in thought for a bit and mustered Luciens hands that crept over his body like a spider with too many legs and too little of a brain; it touched nothing but fabric, and yet it managed to make him about as comfortable as he were if he sat himself on an anthill. Ready to protest was, what he was, but he shook his head slightly - maybe Lucien was right. No, he definitely was - but that question was not aimed at him, not in the slightest. "S-Splendid! Lord Lucien is right, it suits your highness v-very well!", he stuttered, somewhat taken aback. Dayan trailed off, his eyes droopy and his mind laced with thought - he had listened to Luciens initial explanation, was following the fabric with his eyes, and then looked back to the other two men. "I have to agree with Lord Lucien, too. Then, let us do as he says." The tailor simply nodded and Dayans eyes trailed off toward Lucien, whom he shied away from - the fabric had overstayed his welcome. "Your highness, we still need measurements so the suit w-" "I'm rather busy, you see." "I-It won't take long, I promise!" It should fit. That was right. It had to fit, not be eyeballed. He cleared his throat. "Alright." Another glance fell toward Lucien, whom he tried to smile for. "Do you need a suit as well?" Now he was just trying to buy time.
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • Lucien watched Dayan closely. He had noticed the new kings little problem a while ago, but it was worse than he had imagined as it seemed. Well that was a problem. He'd have to shake hands eventually. He had to be comfortable in a crowd and maybe even phase those dirty people that would line up to lay gaze on their new king and a prince they all knew already. They were not the problem here, Lucien was sure they accepted him for being down to earth. It seemed that he had changed, but as long as it didn't leave the castle that was fine and Lucien was very good at keeping secrets, even for others. He already started to build a little network of trustworthy people around here to help him establish an iron grip, although an invisible one. For a moment he locked gaze with Dayan, the new king, whom he wasn't afraid of, wondering why the death of his family had an effect like that on him. His father would be interested too, but Lucien hadn't written to him yet.

      Lucien smiled again when the tailor agreed with him. Whether he truly did or not was of no concern for Lucien. Dayan just seemed happy to get out of this dreadful task and Lucien smiled even more, nodded and shoved the fabric into the tailors arms, which he had pulled of Dayan at the same time as he shied away, shielding him from the prying eyes of this vermin of a tailor. Was Lucien too harsh? Maybe. But to gain his respect he better did a good job with the kings clothes. Lucien watched their little discussion, then chuckled. "Oh no, I brought all the clothes I need, do not worry about me your highness.", he answered, then looked at the tailor again. "I am sure the kings clothes all fit him very well. I will let a maid bring the best fitting garments we can find to you as soon as possible, you can take the measures from that.", he proposed, although it sounded more like an order. Lucien put one hand on the mans shoulder to lead him to the door. "Our king is busy, you heard him. Your assistant can pick up the fabrics later in the day. Now shoo, don't you have work to do?", he asked him with a cheery smile and another chuckle, shoving him outside the door and closing it into his face. Lucien turned around again, his own fingers twitching slightly after touching this man, but he shook it off and locked at Dayan. "Now that is taken care of. Just pick anything that fits you well and I will take care of the rest. The flowers, the table clothes, the music, food and your guards orders are taken care of as well. Everyone is already working as we speak."

    • Poof. Just like that, Lucien got rid of the offender - of the eyesore, the worm that was about to put his grubby hands on his very body; on the thin layer of clothes that didn't protect anything, that seperated him from a world he suddenly loathed so much. They weren't opaque, and yet they felt like they were - they were nothing more than paper garments, made for a knight that once donned and armor with the strength of thousands - Dayan was left with nothing and he swallowed, deep and sudden, to get rid of the knot that was obstructing his throat, robbing him of air. "I needn't worry about you? T-That is mighty fine to hear.", Dayan mumbled, preoccupied with his own misery. Thousands of sharp objects were jabbing into his body - the fabric that Lucien had delicately touched was digging itself into his skin, threat after threat, and he felt every second of it. Right now, he wanted to flee his own body, the flesh chassis he was forced to inhabit and loathed to be. Droplets of sweat had formed on his temples and his lip was quivering - for a moment, he cast his gaze toward the floor and bit his gloved finger, hard at that. Why was it so hard to simply exist? "For fucks sake ...", he whispered, almost wordlessly, just to himself, before he forced himself to raise his head again.

      His eyes focused on Lucien, on his saving grace, and the only thing that didn't offend him by simply existing. However, that still didn't mean that Dayan was keen on trusting him, on giving into him and accepting all that he gave him - first of all, he was confused, and second of all, the entire story that this redhead was spewing made little to no sense. Wrecking his brain over something so simple, yet sinister, was nothing but a pain in his ass at this very moment. "Anything? I wouldn't mind the emerald green, not at all. It just was a bit sudden.", he chuckled, brushing his discomfort off and eyeing the fabric samples, before he thought about what kind of impression it would make, all the way up there, on the stuffy balcony that offered a view of Myriad and beyond ... the thought alone made Dayan sick and he started touching the fabrics, their plushness obstructed by the gloves he'd put on. Visuals were fine, too. "Or did you have something else in mind?", he questioned, his gaze darting upward and toward Lucien, whom he forced himself to smile at. What a sorry excuse of a king he was. "Ah ... I should stop asking you for things. You have taken care of so many things for me, how can I ever repay you?" What was it that he was after? A seat at his court? No, Dayan needn't be silly ... not all people of Olette were the same as the ones his fathers hated and shunned. Lucien surely was different - he was kind, and somewhat overbearing, too.
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • Lucien gave Dayan space, let him breath and calm down himself, for a bit. It was better not to push him he was sure and if he leaned anything from his life in his fathers dungeon, it was that friendliness and love was only scheme, something that hurt in the end. It left him hollow, he knew as much, but as a husk, how would he be capable to complain? Who was he but a mere actor that projected someone on his empty shell that he thought he should be. His goals and ambitions aligned with his fathers, always, the only difference was that Lucien did what he thought to be right to achieve their common goal, whether his father would take the same approach or not. For now it was to secure Dayan as king and to befriend him to the best of his abilites. This was why he stood there, giving Dayan room still as he was starting to sweat and try to escape the spot Lucien had touched through even a different fabric. Lucien could claim he understood him somewhat, but the disgust he apparently felt after touching the tailor was nothing more but something that he made himself feel.

      Dayans gaze went up and Lucien smiled at him as if he hadn't noticed anything happening at all. "Not at all. I think the color fits you and it is something new, something you, not something your father was. I am not trying to speak ill about the former king. He led Adrestia and Thria far, but a good king welcomes change and also rules by his own believes. You will be the first Thrian king, this is a new era and we should celebrate that accordingly.", Lucien explained, but picked up another fabric still. "That doesn't mean you can't have more than one piece to wear. The emerald looks expensive, which it should as a king, but this..." He held up a deep forest green. "I think it would fit you well too. Green is your color anyhow... hun.", he added at the end with a little wink, wondering if the king would mind, or preferably be reminded of a good evening he had yesterday. "You don't need to repay me, I told you that before, although... " Lucien acted like he mused over what favour he could ask of the king, but in reality, he already had something in mind. Not for himself, but for Dayan, which in turn was for him anyway. "The tailor needs your measurements. After you picked something fitting perfectly from your existing wardrobe... how about that trip you promised? I could use a break!" Lucien stretched his back and put a hand in front of his mouth as if he needed to hide a yawn.

    • Was the redhead giddy? Dayan couldn't tell - he just knew that he himself wasn't, but he was watching Lucien regardless, someone that - to him - seemed like a kitten that had been given a ball of yarn and was currently playing with it. As of now, he wasn't sure if he himself was the ball in question, or if it was just another scummy metaphor that he made up on the fly, to feel better about himself. A groan escaped his lips. Agony was upon him - his dreams were tormenting him and so was his brain during his waking hours; he would never escape those ghosts that circled upon his head and sung white lies about what truly happened that night. If they would continue to haunt him if he stole their halos and plucked their wings? No, that would make them angels, not ghosts, and Dayan had enough delusions that he should be fighting. "Thrian king, huh? I guess so ... still, the wind of change might me hard to accept." Not once did Dayan bore himself with the details. Theoretically, Lucien was right, but on the other hand, he never had thought about his identity before - socially, he was both, though raised in an adrestian environment, and yet, the cursed blood within his veins - the one that should have compelled him to the throne from the very start - was definitely thrian. His looks were a different story.

      Dayan took a deep breath - this doubled down as an identity crisis and he doomed to never have nice things, ever again. What would his old self do? Not shoulder the responsibility, because he was so goddamn immature that Dayan had a hard time recognizing himself - nothing would be the same, not ever again, and therefore, he had to learn how to care for himself. His eyes followed Luciens motions, but his ears had long since closed themselves off and were occupied with hearing his own thoughts - things that weren't meant for them, making him reap what he'd sewn. Suddenly, he had to take a double take. "Two? I ... that's quite extensive, though, isn't it?", he threw in, unsure of the implications. The wink didn't go unnoticed, but he was unsure how to respond. This was awkward. While he liked both colors, and the fact that they belonged to him, he didn't want it like that - and he didn't want to brag. Before long, he was immersed in his thoughts and picking at the fabric, before he showed a phthalo green shade to Lucien; Dayan liked it, even if it was clear that it had blue accents and wasn't much of a vibrant color. "What do you think about this one? Be honest." Two strong, deep colors would probably work better. "Although ...?" Wasn't he just cute and selfless? Dayan could get behind that, even if it reeked of a bad facade - or was that the truth? Everything seemed to make his hair stand on end; he was going to go insane. "That trip?" Oh, yes, they had talked about something like that. It would help, maybe - he could get out of here, and maybe ... no, that was stupid. "I don't see why not. Are you sure you want that, though? Maybe it's not to your liking ... you don't have to please me, you know."
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • Lucien pranced around the fabrics a bit more, looked at them and possibly at colors he would have wanted for himself. His persona had an expensive taste after all and he never grew tired of shopping for new clothes. After he looked at some gold laced fabric a second longer than he needed to, he returned his gaze to his king. "The late king changed a lot, people are used to change by now and generations like my fathers get ready to lay down their mantles. It is us starting to rule this country and I'd say we didn't grow up with the fear of the Thrians our parents felt.", Lucien argued and smiled while doing so. "I know your family was intimidated by the Lords speaking against you as king, instead wanting your brother to lead, but maybe they were wrong, maybe they underestimated how far the people of Adrestia came and how much they've changed.", he further suggested. "Either way, you are going to be crowned soon and everything else will be dealt with when the situation arises. I'm here to help you if you need anything."

      Dayan was worried, maybe even scared and Lucien could guess why, even though he couldn't comprehend those feelings. Him being worried only helped him though, it meant that he needed and wanted guidance, guidance the redhead wanted to provide. Lucien chuckled. "You are going to be king, even five sets of clothing wouldn't be extensive!", he replied. What a worrywart he was. He grew up rich, as a prince and the son of the king and yet he almost seemed like he lived in a palace for the first time in his life. Lucien eyes the fabric Dayan chose for himself and stepped a bit closer, not too close, he knew Dayan well enough by now. "Ohh... I love it! Who would have thought you possessed an eye for fashion? No offense. It fits you though and it is an homage to Fhaergus blue colors while it is still you. Yes, if you are happy with it, we'll take this one!" Lucien nodded and put the other fabrics away. "I will let the tailor know." He could have written it down, but he was certain he'd remember what he needed to do, for now he had to get Dayan to let loose a bit though. "I'm not trying to. I can stand to get away from all this craziness too, so how about you find something that fits you in your closet, so I can relay your measurements and the color you picked to the tailor and afterwards we'll have a little break?"

    • Dayan still seemed to be on the fence - on one hand, he didn’t want any of this and on the other, it felt as if he was kicking the legacy of his late family around the room by just insinuating he wouldn’t be a wanted king, only a needed one, until they found someone with more ties to this country and a less shattered psyche than him. Couldn’t he at least have one person that supported him? … He had Lucien, that had to suffice, even if he knew that - deep down - he probably shouldn’t trust anyone with red hair or ties to Olette. Could he afford to be that suspicious? Not really. “It’s true and yet I can’t help but fear what everyone thinks. Maybe I’m also just overthinking it and hurting myself.” For one, he wanted to know what was going on in Luciens head, and for two, he wanted to know what really happened. Dayan knew even that but he refused to believe what he saw, even now. “I … I am grateful to have you. It’s quite odd, if you think about it, and maybe I’m just worrying too much about everything. If I could just turn off my thoughts, even for an hour, that would already work wonders.” Dayan didn’t know how, though. Would he ever? Potentially not. “They just have to get used to change, just like me.”

      With that change, a lot of things would happen - he’d ascend to the throne and just be some important guy then and there, huh? "And even then, my other clothes are still perfectly fine, you know?", he replied to Lucien, who was right, sure, but Dayan wasn't necessarily worried about getting some new kind of clothing, oh no; he was more feeling resentful towards the fact that he might have to leave something behind. It really was as easy as that. "An eye for fashion?" He raised an eyebrow. Certainly, he had anything but that - fashion wasn't his strong suit and he didn't care enough, never had and never would, which only meant that Lucien was trying to be nice now. What an awful lout this man could be - and yet, he was tolerated, no, even appreciated in his vicinity. Why wouldn't he? To Dayan, he fixed problems that were awfully inconvenient and to others, he was the semblance of a normal, quite fruitful life. "Huh?" That was ... interesting. Weren't they supposed to ...? Dayan accepted it. It was better that way. "That is quite fine by me." Complaints? Zero. Actually, less than zero, even - he would value what he had, for as long as he did and if Lucien meant it, then he was happy about it. Dayan went to pick out something, relayed the sizes, and why, the hard part was done anyway. "Did you have something in mind for this little break of ours?"
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • "We will find out in due time. If you want I can get a lay of the land before the coronation. Adressing the lords worries and fears during your coronation speech might already be enough to sway those who are undecided.", Lucien suggested. He would call it 'asking around', but Olette had an extensive network of spies all over Adrestia. Surely Myriad had too, but he doubted Dayan knew anything about those affairs and Lucien wasn't willing to pry just yet. "Turn off your thoughts, huh?", Lucien chuckled and the smile on his ace remained. "Some more wine could do the trick, you don't need an excuse to drink a little." Their wine tasting was done after all. "Or, if you feel like it, I am sure there are plenty of women, or men if you fancy that, waiting to fullfill the future kings every wish.", he continued with his sing-sang voice. Dayan didn't seem like he could deal with anyones attention however, not right now, but maybe some wine would change that too. "Adrestia is ever changing lately, I think the people are ready to accept more."

      Dayan worried about all the wrong things. Having a father whos country was taken from him and another who never really had much to his name, or a place to take his clothes out to, probably did that to him. Lucien had taken him as someone more confident and ready to spend his families money before they all died, but maybe he was wrong. "That doesn't mean you can't add more. My sister gets a new dress every month, you can get five new sets for your coronation without feeling guilty." Lucien too liked to drape himself in new and fashionable clothes, sometimes in the finest silk from the south before the shipment left Olette to be brought to the rest of the country. Even now he eyed the fabrics not only for the future king, but because he might have a shopping spree later on himself. Now that they had a fabric and Dayans size another big bullet point was crossed off their coronation list. Great. Dayan didn't need to do much more, some decisions here and there that Lucien could take over for him, like which flowers he wanted. A speech however was another hurdle and something Dayan probably didn't want to do. That was a lter problem though. "How about we ride out a little? Doesn't hurt to get away from here for a bit." Lucien wasn't the sporty kind, he didn't flaunt about in the streets or the woods, he didn't hunt, but he wasn't beneath taking a leasurely ride for a few hours. The less people in that case, the better for him too. Most people were annoying to him, not worth speaking to as long as he didn't need anything from them. Did Lucien have any friends? No, he kept people close for his own and his families purposes, which were the same thing anyway, but not because he couldn't stand being alone.

    • His finger ran along the golden trimmings of his clothing, tracing it absentmindedly, waiting, prying, eyeing - what was going to happen if he let go? Dayan wished he knew, wanted to be aware of more, of worse than whatever ill fate had befallen both him and that accursed blood pumping through his disturbed veins. Once upon a time, to be his fathers son, that would have meant something, but now? His father lay dead in the dirt, not cremated but buried, hidden from those very eyes that now bore into his own soul, lest his coming undone would reveal more secrets than there were supposed to be. "I would appreciate that, if you could.", he tried to steel his voice, smoothing out the subtle tremors that cursed through him and it, even now, convinced of his own wrongdoing and future downfall. "I'd love nothing more than that, really." For the dead to stop clammoring, for the living to stop fleeing and for his minds eye to conjure up visions of things that had yet to transpire or were wrongly perceived by his very unstable self. Happiness? Whatever that used to be, it was hard to catch a glimpse of, even in his memories that he hounded for it, time and time again, like a madman, looking through the same things over and over and over and over and overandoverandoveroveroveroveroverover ... huh? The to-be-king sneered. "Egh, I'd rather not lay with anyone right now."

      Surely, a few glasses of wine, or rather bottles, would drown out his sorrows but no matter how much Adrestia changed, how easy it wound up being laying with a man, Dayan himself had no preference - the only thing he wanted, right about now, was to not have anyone by his side, to isolate himself and be left as he was, wallowing in his sadness, his despair, borne of nothing but his own inability to save anyone, to protect anything. Whatever Lucien was spouting, sure, it was only meant to cheer him up, perhaps, but Dayan didn't buy what he was selling, not yet, anyhow. "What about you, then? I hardly ever asked for anything, and it's not like we were pressed for money.", he retaliated, not liking the comparison of him and whatever spoiled brat that the Olettians likely called the woman third in line for their very own throne of duke, or duchess in her case. Like that would happen. Right. "Ride ... out?", the question was caked in uncertainty, a hint of fear, a smackdab of disdain for the idea itself. Dayan wanted nothing more than to bury his head, his face, in his pillow and lament the ways of the world, the unsteady waves crashing into him, before they either drowned him out completely or washed him ashore - he didn't want to be anywere, but he sputtered and grumbled, relenting against himself, against the intoxicated fool in his mind, wanting to break free, to forget, to run until his legs gave out and then some more. "Alright. If you have need of a horse, there's plenty in the stables for you to pick, would you need a change of clothes first?", he asked Lucien, scrutinizing his current attire - this was barely fitting for an adventure, but enough to attract beggars, bandits and whoever was in cahoots with the seedy crowd operating in the shadows of the world. "I know I need one."
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • "I'll have a draft ready soon and you can go over it and see if you want to add or remove anything.", Lucien smiled. Dayan didn't ask for any of this, but frankly, he probably didn't even realize he should prepare a speech or what all went into organizing a coronation. Was he even educated in these things? He was never supposed to be king, but the late king seemed smart enough to advise both his sons, even if one of them would only stand by the others side, helping him rule. "There are stronger substances than wine too. Liquor from the north, plants from the south, or a few things from Thria.", he reminded the king. Lucien maybe knew too much of these things, but the ones he mentioned were common in their respective places of origins and surely not totally unknown to someone like the new king. Sure, Olette had way more trade with the south, but those things made their way up here as well. "That's fine. Might be better not to before the coronation anyway." People still should marry before any intercourse, not that most cared enough.

      Lucien chuckled when Dayan offered to get him some clothes too. "Me? I'm also not pressed for money, me being second in line aside, I am well off still. My brother doesn't care about the fine things in life anyway, so me and my sister have more money to spend anyhow." While Lucien could contract whatever he wanted and also did, because he carefully curated his persona and was into the newest trends, his sister had to ask their father for new dresses and the like. He rarely said no however. One day she'd be married off to someone, maybe to further their interests in the south, which she would hate, or maybe the north of Adrestia, which was probably worse for her. He couldn't imagine her sitting in the barren castle of Stenz. Oh well, maybe she'd be queen one day and marry Dayan. Lucien would just need to open him up to that idea, but not anytime soon. "I arrived here with my own horse.", Lucien chuckled and it was fed in said stable as well. Dayan wanted to change it seemed and Lucien, well he could get into a set of less flamboyant clothes, that said he was always dressed to impress. "Well then, we'll change and meet at the stable, how's that sound?", he asked already heading for the door. "When we're gone I have someone clean this up." All the fabrics the tailor lay out for them to see. Lucien would also relay Dayans wishes and size.

    • “I wasn’t insinuating you were pressed for anything, simply a gesture of goodwill for doing more than you should. My thanks, of sorts.”, he murmured under his breath, stung by the remark in the worst way - would everyone think he pitied them now, just because he offered them a helping hand? What a disgraceful pack of hounds his subjects ought to be if that was how they thought. Should he sneer at Lucien’s example? No, he wasn’t quite that haughty, or self-absorbed - Dayan learned forgive and forget, not the hard way, but the long way, all his life, through love and virtue that was beseeched onto him like a thick blanket, made out of good intentions. What did all of that award any of them? Nothing, only doom, gloom and death awaited them beyond their kindness and Dayan, who was hurt and embittered by letting it happen in the first place, would only get worse and worse about it. “Your own horse? I thought you got here by carriage. Excuse my prejudice.” He, too, could be an asshole, though, and he, too, needed tough skin, grow it or earn it by stealing it from someone else, anything was fine as long as it worked out. “Sounds good. As for the fabrics, I can take care of that myself. You really don’t have to do everything for me, even if I appreciate it.” Talking to strangers and being seen by them, even if they had names, faces and some sort of relationship to him, made his skin crawl at present. Naturally, someone like Lucien would take advantage of that. Dayan was sure.

      Not a minute after they parted ways, Dayan firmly shut the door to his room behind him and exhaled deeply - he’d hurried here, the second Lucien was out of sight and earshot. His back pressed against the wood of the door, his breath hitched as he slid down to the floor in slow, every moment an agonizing one as his chest cramped uncomfortably, his breathing growing erratic and labored, his eyelids squeezing shut as his hand dug into his chest. Even the fabric of his clothing felt like it was suffocating him, every single moment and agony he couldn’t help but wish to escape - he was just warding off the inevitable, trying to convince himself it wouldn’t come to pass, all the while he knew just how wrong he was. Panic cut into his very being, followed by a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and while Dayan wanted nothing more than allow himself to be vulnerable, to be weak some more, to let his body figure it out and watch from behind his eyes, he didn’t have time for it. Begrudgingly, he forced the feeling back down, changed his clothes, cleaned the sweat off with a towel first, then stepped into a pair of boots and hurriedly left again - he could be weak at any other time, not now. “We’ll be going out. Don’t wait up.”, he told one of the butlers in passing, dashing past the lit, barely bustling halls and out into the courtyard, then into the stable. By the time Dayan arrived, he found no sign of Lucien yet, which he used as a prompt to first saddle his own horse, then ask one of the stable hands to point out Luciens to him, which he gave a second to get accustomed to his face, then removed it from its box and started to get it ready and yet, he didn’t get too far in the process by the time the fiery redhead showed up. “I’m almost done.”
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • "Ah. You don't have to thank me really, though I guess I should get myself a new set of clothes for the coronation.", Lucien smiled. He could do that whenever he had time however, maybe he would later on. Again Lucien chuckled at Dayans apology. "I travelled partly in carriage and it still brought my luagguge here, but I rode through the city on my own horse." Only him with one horse wouldn't have worked. He came with a whole set of people, guards and servants who would make his journey save and comfortable. "Taking work you don't want to do yourself off your hands is my whole reason to be here. I don't mind if you want to do it yourself, but I really don't mind doing it for you either." He smiled again. "Just tell me if I need to take care of it and now, I'll leave you to it." Lucien left for his own room, finding some comfortable clothes for riding out, but even those looked fancy, albeit a bit more practible. A white ruffled shirt and pants he could stuff the ends in, the waistband reaching way up. The sleeves were shorter so he wouldn't get stuck on anything and he grabbed a pair of black gloves as well. He put on some boots as well, Dayan probably would lead him way out into the wilderness. He also tied his red hair back, only a few shorter strand still framed his face.

      When he arrived at the stables Dayan was already there, readying the horses instead of letting a stewart do that work. There was one here too, that probably pointed Dayan to Luciens horse, a white, beautiful steed with braided hair. Dayan probably hated all this fancyness and Lucien wondered if he should tone down on it. After all, this young, fashionable man interested in all the ine and modern things in life was only a persona he took on as his personality, but deep down he was moldable into whatever his father needed him to be and had no real interests of his own whatsoever. "You needn't do this.", Lucien grinned, putting on the gloves he brought. He was capable of saddling his own horse, but he hadn't done so in a long time. He still waited for Dayan to finish, then got on his horse swiftly. He already told his guards of, Dayan surely didn't want a bunch of people following them, no matter if it was safer or not. "Now then, what meadows and hills has Myriad to offer? I don't think I ever saw much else than the castle and the main roads when we visited."

    • Lucien’s steed was a formidable one, something Dayan could imagine at a plethora of shows, displaying it’s beauty, it’s skills - the poise with which it walked, carried it’s master, making his own pedigree spark brighter than even the sun in that silly moment, but what was it worth? A horse like this was wasted on menial tasks like carrying it’s master, dirtying it’s coat, going about anywhere but into it’s stable, where it should sit like a marble statue, left to be admire by only those who were worthy enough of gazing upon it. But wasn’t that him as well? They wanted to force him onto the throne, as a marble replacement for a brother that disappeared into nothingness, like he’d never walked this plane of existence before, like all that was ever left of the royal family was him - the ruthless one, the loud one, the wild one. Dayan didn’t want to be just a statue to be perceived by others, frozen in place, fed partial truths, innocent lies that dotted his nightmares as the rotting word crumbled beneath his heel, and he? He fell apart with it, no longer human, not for a long time. Freedom like that wasn’t freedom at all - to be king was like being shackled in gold, like a songbird in a gilded cage. Right. Freedom with restrictions, it was no freedom at all. That was non-negotiable.

      Dayan’s entire being shuddered as Lucien entered the stable, finally joining him as he was lost in thought - the irony of letting a man of olettian ancestry dictate his coronation not lost on him. What did he fear more; Lucien or himself? A man or the crown? “I have an awful feeling I will hear a lot of that in due time.”, he scoffed, fiddling with the saddle a slight bit more, before he deemed it proper and moved onto the rest. Right. Once done, he let Lucien get on as he got onto his own - Dayan’s movement was neither as swift nor as uncaring or smooth as it usually tended to be, his side stinging uncomfortably as he got on. “Not a single one?” What a fool. To live within this world but not enjoy it’s beauty, to not run with and from the wind, take off into the nothingness of the vast world in front of them, what the hell did he think himself capable of? “We’ll take care of that, then.” A whistle followed, Dayan skillfully maneuvering his own steed away. Where to go? What to see? The meadows would be a sight for sore eyes, and beyond it, the scattering forest, some smaller hills, wouldn’t that be a sweet sight? Just thinking about it invigorated him, and yet, it was followed by a deep, longing ache - for a hug, for a word, for someones voice that he’d never hear again. It’d be fine. He’d make do. To make them proud, that was the least he could do. “Follow me. I hope you’ll enjoy it.” An almost sinister snicker trailed after those words, with Dayan’s horse picking up speed in no time.
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • Dayan wasn't ready to be king or anyone important. He'd been comfortable in his role as the adoptive son never to be burdened by any responsibility, traveling maybe if not staying by his brothers side. He needed to give up on him, but Lucien knew better than to blurt that out. "You're going to be king, you can saddle your horse or anyone else's all you like." With both of them on their horses Lucien smiled at Dayan who seemed motivated for once. "Well, given our families history, of which my late grandfather sullied the relationship, we never stayed for long. None of us wanted to overstay our welcome in Myriad. Much as I can't remember your family visiting Olette for longer than necessary, though I did hear that you enjoyed our beaches one time. Well, all is forgotten I hope and I look forward to seeing some of your home." Dayan was riding ahead and Lucien followed him, not having any problem with the pace he chose. They soon left the castle grounds through the back, past the beautiful colorful gardens Myriad and the capital were known for. Nowhere else in Adrestia was it this colorful, the garden full of different roses and other flowers, but even the wild meadows exloded with colors of red, yellow, blue and purple.

      It didn't take long for them to pass the back gate into an empty land stretch. No city, no houses, not even fields. The woods further ahead undoubtedly the royal hunting grounds now open for other hunters too. The hills oversaw the large lake Myr right next to city and castle, providing fish and the rivers leading into it where their source of fresh water. Olette looked undoubtedly different, very bright, but not as green and lash. Their capital lay at the sea with the biggest of Adrestias harbors visible from the castle. It was a bustling merchants city and the outskirts had a lot of sand. Myriad was full of farms of different kinds, Olette had more fishing industry and trade was very important. After they road a ways out, past any guards eyes Lucien caught up wanting a word, stopping them both for a moment as he maneuvered his horse in the way of Dayans. He smiled. "If you rather be alone that is fine. I'll cover for you if you just want to get away for an afternoon.", he suggested. He didn't want to seem clingy and Dayan, well, both of them weren't friends, not even acquainted yet. Riding out alone surely would have worried everyone, maybe to the point they'd fear Dayan wouldn't come back to lead this country. It was easier to say he showed Lucien around, but that didn't mean he had to do that. "I can wait here until you feel ready to return. I brought a book, just in case."

    • To be king, that was never his role - the heir to the throne had always been Richard, it was his role by birthright, and Dayan? As ridiculous as he found it as a child, as much as nobody wished to crush his dreams under their heels, as free spirited he grew up. Soon, his younger self realized that there was nothing to be jealous about when it came to the role his younger brother would inherit, as it only brought one restriction after the other, and so, he set his sights on becoming his righthand man instead, if Richard would have him and his tardy approach to learning, that was. Dayan, for no particular reason, often shirked subjects he was considered good at, almost rebelled against those he was bad at and then? He just outright started skipping all those classes and lectures. To him, it wasn’t jealousy or deviating his brothers attention that pulled him away, but the realization that Richards fate was none he wished to share, even if he would love nothing more than to stay by his side and shoulder his burdens. “You say that now, but the moment I sit on that throne for the first time, am called king the first time, it might as well be like I’m dead and what’s left is a role who’s shoes I don’t fill.”, he grumbled, his misgivings clear as day. To then foist the unwanted, heavy crown onto his aching, ill-fitting skull was like they’d chained him in the depths of a damp dungeon, to waste away and never be heard from again, except this one was a gilded cage, standing proud above all else in this world - one where people could witness his inevitable decay.

      “All is forgiven, I suppose. We’re not them, they’re not is and dwelling on the past never got anyone to push forward.”, Dayan admitted with a sigh. To claim he trusted an Olettian of all people was idiotic, and to admit that he felt trapped, even when the wind was close to whipping both him and his horse into the face, was to expose a weakness he didn’t know he had himself. A snake slithering onto his skin, offering him sound advice, whispering sweet nothings into his receptive ears was all he needed - Lucien seemed to want to play that part, to cut him loose from the ties that bound him. There was a glint in Dayans eyes, green as dying - not yet dead - grass, one that grew brighter the more freedom he was offered by this stranger in the guise of an ally, by someone he should despise yet couldn’t, for picking up the slack he left, for making sure he was doing the most even when he wasn’t doing it himself. “Didn’t you ask to be shown around? Or was that just a farce?”, Dayan asked, the treachery evident. Not that it didn’t benefit him in this case - the wind called him, whistled for him to come closer, to bridge the gap between him and the life he was about to leave behind. Could he go? Should he go? There was a knot in his stomach, an unease in his mind that burrowed deep within his brain. “I don’t know. It’d feel wrong. You wanted to get out and see it all with your own eyes, no? Who knows if I ever have time for that again. Besides …” To shirk the lush nature around them just to bury his nose in books? That felt inefficient, if not ridiculous. “You’ll have plenty of time to read later. Don’t be ridiculous, or lazy - we’ll keep going, of course. You haven’t earned your rest yet.”, Dayan snorted in amusement.
      Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.

    • "The crown comes with responsibilites, but none that you cannot delegate. The former king, before your father, if you can even call him that, after all did almost nothing besides demanding the death of your ancestors for childish reasons. The city only kept afloat because he had people around him who made it so. That said, if you just do a little more than him, the world won't sink into chaos and you can still be yourself. Maybe with some restrictions, I admit, but nontheless, you can ride out and go hunting, or travel the country as you see fit.", Lucien answered, trying to reassure Dayan and get over his depression and doom outlook on life. He let out a chuckle and a sigh however. "Well I admit this is rich coming from me, a second son, who is definetly more free than my brother." That was a lie, his brother was the free one, yes he had to one day take over, but only the pretty parts. Their father wanted to seperate their responsibilities, Ares was going to be a ruler, a firm hand, a fighter, a king and Lucien? He was to keep in the shadows, clean up Ares' messes, protect him under cover of the dark and deal with their more... sensitive issues. Plausible deniability, their father lived, because he put the blame of their secret prisons on his father and Ares was to be able to put the blame on Lucien. He didn't mind, nothing mattered to Lucien and someone who wasn't alive could never be free.

      "Well said.", Lucien simply smiled. "Would you have come out here if I hadn't given you a little push?", was his retaliation question. "Sorry" Not that he was absolutely not interested in Myriads countryside, if Dayan needed someone to be that, Lucien would be. Dayan however decided to take Lucien with him it seemed, who let out a soft graceful laugh. "If you insist.", he smiled, maneuvering his horse out of Dayans way again. "Though, I could ride out on my own, take in the scenary, without getting lost, if that's a concern... well, who am I kidding? I might get lost..." He chuckled again. Lucien wasn't exactly an outdoor person, given that he hadn't seen the outdoor for a good portion of his childhood. He could probably tell where north was, but finding his way out of a forest? It was probably not his strong suit. Even he couldn't do anything, Ares was the outdoor person able to survive anywhere without even having any weapons.