The Taste of Revenge

saturnia pavonia

perseus
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
LURKER MEMBER
MYTHICAL MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. Multiple posts per day
  3. 1-3 posts per day
  4. One post per day
  5. Multiple posts per week
Online Availability
12 pm-10:30 pm (with some exceptions)
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
  2. Beginner
  3. Elementary
  4. Intermediate
  5. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
  2. No Preferences
Genres
Fantasy, Mystery, Scifi, Romance, Yaoi, Yuri, Horror
Despite being one of the largest mining city within The Dark, Arturil's Gulch wasn't exactly a place that was celebrated, but luck seemed to shine on the citizens when hearing that their upcoming lapidarist would be in charge of creating Prince Elior's brand new crown. Sure, beautiful jewelry was the second largest import from their town next to raw material but this - this wasn't just a nice pair of earrings made for some nobody aristocrat that had no real bearing on The Dark, this was for the future King of The Land of The Light, the people who were a direct result of the death of Ivory's sister.

He could recall his mother's words when he was younger; "letting anger and hatred fester in your gut like that will only give you a stomach ache", or something of the sort - his memory had faded a bit of his mother's details; a waxy film melted onto the sharp images. What she said didn't matter much, Ivory wasn't hungry as he stayed up late tending to the crown. He sat over his desk, carved neatly from obsidian by his mentor in his youth, a faint and small candle offering him all the light he needed as he adjusted his loupes. His fingers held hard-earned callouses on nearly every inch of his palm from countless hours in the mine, their rough texture running along the beautifully polished stones as another memory reared itself in Ivory's mind.

He remembered sitting on his father's lap when he was young, the man towering over him and his once stunted growth. He remembered sitting on the man's lap and closing his eyes as he listened to his grandfather describe what stats looked like, according to his grandfather. "They were like bright white stones, polished to the finest clarity". It hurt, realizing he wouldn't be able to compare notes with his grandfather. Nonetheless he carved at the fine opals that would primarily make up Elior's new crown. When they were done, he would move onto the wire that would hold all of it together. Intricate swirls of metal, each made from Ivory himself. The garnets had already been polished and faceted with a still hand, something his mentor now lacked in his old age. In two days he would emerge to the surface, the first time his ancestors had done so in hundreds of years, and he would get the revenge the Lumineira deserved.

The following day was dedicated to a celebration, of course. It was something he did love about The Dark; because as irresponsible The Council was in Ivory's eyes, the people made the place livable. He woke up late after spending the entire night finishing up the last details of the intricate crown only to be greeted with his neighbors, food in hands as a gift.

"You want to represent all of The Dark while you're up there and you can't do that on an empty stomach!" His one neighbor exclaimed.

He had done plenty on an empty stomach, it wasn't like there was often a choice.

Food soon changed to beautiful arrangements, the arrangement he set neatly in his sister's hands still fresh in his mind before she was sent down the river. He placed them into a vase, the otherwise empty home he shared with his father brightening up briefly. Flowers changed to clothes, though he already had his clothes picked for his overnight excursion. Nonetheless he thanked everyone who offered him their gifts. Lastly was the gift from his father. A box.

It wasn't nearly carved but it was clear effort had been made, the entirety made from a beautiful green jade his father had mined himself. It fit the crown perfectly, resting within the smoothed stone as if it should never leave. His father couldn't meet eyes with Ivory as, through the darkness, a flush of color emerged on the older Elowen's cheeks.

"It was the box I made to hold the necklace I made for your mother." Ivory's father explained, his voice as coarse as the stone he worked every day. Ivory gripped it right and offered a hug just as tightly, gritting his teeth. No one deserved this box, it should be with his mother.

Nonetheless, Ivory offered a smile. His father couldn't understand now but perhaps he would soon. He packed his things in a backpack made of the leather of dried mushrooms, a gift presented to him by his sister. Within it were extra clothes of course, the box that now held the crown, and an obsidian dagger wrapped in his sister's old shawl. It showed his reflection when peering into the blade, his ancestor's eyes staring back at him. He pushed it deep within the bag before he slept, awakening before his father had rose.

He triple-checked everything before lugging the bag onto his back. The travel to the surface would be a long one, a lonely one. Arturil's Gulch was further within the tunnels than many other cities but Ivory knew those tunnels well. He wrapped himself tightly in layers of fabric, his face obscured for protection from the sun as well as the goggles he had worn to protect against sparks while he was a miner. Sure, contact sparks werent the sun but it was something, and he doubted that anyone from The Light would offer anything different.

Hours of trekking throughout the tunnels had been agonizing, especially once seeing the exit he had been certain he would never see. He blinked a bit, his vivid eyes squinting. He wordlessly added his goggles, appearing more like a lost nomad than an honored lapidarist, before showing the guards the box and crown that held it. Just as wordlessly, a cart was whistled over. A beautiful creature was in charge of the cart. "A horse." It wasn't exactly like how his grandfather described it but it wasn't too far off, he noted. He hopped into the back of the cart with a simple nod and held the bag close to his chest. Next stop was Hollowslocke. He could take in the nearly overwhelming differences once he was closer to his target, after. For now, he had to make sure he got to the damn place first.
 
As far as Elior was concerned, it was one thing to be told that his crown was to be made by the hands of someone from The Dark, but another thing entirely to have said person make a journey up to Hollowslocke and personally hand-deliver it to him.

Concerning the latter, he knew that there was little chance that his crown would be made elsewhere when they had proven themselves perfectly capable of delivering remarkable jewellery, using the jewels mined from the interconnecting tunnels that made up their land. As much as his mother served to do whatever Elior wanted, he knew that requesting his crown be made elsewhere was something she wouldn't easily agree to - and he could allow it to slide. Was it ideal? No, far from it - it dented his plans massively if the two lands developed any sort of understanding or amiability, but he could understand why his mother had green-lit the idea.

What he didn't understand, what he refused to accept, was the maker being granted access into The Light; personally escorted into the very heart of Hollowslocke for a reason that was ultimately lost on the young Prince. It was an extension of kindness that would undo every effort he was subtly making to damage The Dark's reputation; to ensure that, in time, the right players would be on his side in his desire to overtake the kingdom below in its entirety.

How could he do that as successfully if they were now being invited up into The Light, with the chance to mingle and make a good impression? He didn't need this newcomer coming across as polite and affable, charming all around him into thinking that, perhaps, their preconceived ideas about those that lived amongst the darkness were unfounded and wrong.

No, it was nothing short of a disaster in Elior's eyes, and though he had to don his best smile and act as though he was excited about his crown, a storm continued to rage powerfully beneath the surface, barely concealed by the mask of practised perfection.

In his finery, he stood at the window overlooking the capital of The Light, his hands resting behind his back and eyes focused intensely on the scenery extended out before him. He wasn't the sentimental sort of man who found beauty in simplicity - his materialistic tendencies encouraged him to put everything he could on display, to have his societal stature evidenced by possessions only his family, as the ruling monarchs, could dream of possessing. That said, he did take immense pride in the kingdom: Hollowslocke, known in The Light as 'the place where the sun never fails to shine', had always appealed to the narcissist in Elior. He had travelled throughout The Light and not once had he found a city that compared to his home; nowhere could hold a light to the vibrancy of the flowers, nothing could challenge the eternally blue skies or come close to touching the aesthetically-pleasing cobbled streets of the town square.

And nothing would ever be able to compete with the castle: a looming, ostentatious construction atop a hill that, through sheer size and location, dominated Hollowslocke. Thick vines climbed the stone walls, dashed here and there by the red of accompanying roses, and, most importantly in Elior's eyes, the flags bearing his family's crest waved proudly around it, not a day passing where they weren't on display.

It was lavish, perhaps even outlandish in how unsubtle the extravagance was, but it signified power and wealth - and both appealed to Elior and the sort of ruler he, one day, knew he would be.

He just had to be patient, continue to put on the dashing smile belonging to the city's golden Prince and bide his time until everything fell into his hands.

He spotted the carriage on the spotless cobbled streets before a servant arrived to inform him, his eyes narrowed in as the vehicle made its way to the golden, intricately-styled gates that stood as the main form of defence for the castle from the civilians beyond it - though the steep hill itself ensured that any threat of attack from unsettled citizens was undercut immediately.

It wasn't easy to maintain the charge uphill when arrows rained down from the castle's superior positioning. No attack had ever been launched against the ruling monarchs, of course, and there was never any fear of unease brewing amongst the contented Hollowslockians... but it was never wise to be so cocky that that possibility was overlooked.

"Do tell my mother that I shall be along shortly. Ensure our guest is catered to and made to feel comfortable in my absence; I shouldn't keep him waiting for too long," he informed the servant at the door, a typical smile resting on his lips. He knew he ought to be waiting with his parents to greet Ivory, make the good impression that they expected of him - he was deemed kind without a fault, and how better to express that inherent kindness than to show it to someone from The Dark? Yet, with the level of disgust currently staining his soul, he knew he couldn't stand waiting for Ivory without it being visible.

No, he had to compose himself first, take the time to put the act on and ensure it played out without a hitch - and if that meant making a fashionably late entrance, so be it.

If anyone could get away with it, then it was likely to be Elior.
 
Ivory’s parents had always told him to be respectful of other’s cultures but it was getting really difficult the moment the castle came into view. It was… was it rude to use the word gaudy? Overbearing? Blatantly fucking ugly? Its size alone was a bit overwhelming but then to add the flags? The gates most likely made of real gold? Did they realize how ineffective a pure gold fence would be?

Under his wrappings held a grimace on the young man’s face, bright white teeth gritted together as he kept himself seated neatly within the carriage. He prided himself in his patience - he had to be in his line of work - but to be hit with such display of opulence while he and his family starved was nauseating enough. Sure, the Council had more amenities than the average miner’s home but they were still humble enough not to live as if they were somehow born better than everyone else - he could spiral in his anger another time as a shaky breath escaped his lips. He had a mission to accomplish, if he kept his focus then he could lie much easier both to himself as well as the royal family.

“Rigid nerves? That’s not a surprise, I would be too.” Called the driver from front, a smile on his lips. The sudden friendliness, however vague the term could be used for such basic interaction, startling the absentminded Ivory, lost in his thoughts. He hadn’t expected anyone from The Light to offer him kindness if he were to be honest, it left Ivory a bit flabbergasted as silence followed. “Not much of a talker, then? Fair-“

“N-No, I’m sorry. It’s… already been a long day,” Ivory replied, his voice hushed , smooth like the polished gems that lined his fingers. He rubbed the amethyst ring on his knuckle with his other hand for comfort. “Time works a bit differently in The Dark, so I’ve been up for awhile now. But to answer your question, no. I’m not worried at all.” Colorful eyes obscured by his goggles turned to observe the streets they passed, the cobblestone road not too dissimilar to that of the roads within The Dark, a fact he took comfort in. “Confidence is key to real success, that’s what my mother would say at least.”

“Well, she’s got the right idea!” Chirped the driver in response. “I’m sure she’s proud to hear you’re an honored guest. Not just anyone can be invited overnight, especially not someone like you.”

The driver’s last words stung more than they ought to have but they did nonetheless, but Ivory said nothiing at them. Instead he offered a small nod, knowing a smile couldn’t be seen if he tried.

“She is sir, very. “

Silence once returned and Ivory took comfort in it, his fingers interlocked in the notches on his backpack. He allowed himself to relax, if only briefly, knowing that his sister would have scold him if he didn’t take the opportunity to at the very least appreciate the flowers. His grandfather went into detail about the flora of The Light and their vibrant colors and he was right, the red in the roses nearly hurting his eyes alone. They were beautiful, Ivory’s calloused fingers desperately craving to feel their soft petals - but he could do that later, perhaps. He needed to act casual after all, like a guest and not a - another cringe - a terrorist. He wasn’t a terrorist, he was doing what was right!

The color of the roses were beautiful and the vines he felt he could climb, like the vague semblance of a fairy tale he once heard as a child. Focus.

Once escorted within the walls of the actual palace, he was more than fascinated to say the least. Beautiful portraits and paintings lined the walls, bright golden frames similar to the golden gate that protected the royal family. He took note of their clothes, the designs much neater and certainly more colorful than his own. The anger returned, the urge to tear those fancy garments to shreds with his dagger coming to mind. He bit his tongue though and forced a smile, even if they couldn’t see it.

“Oh, hello! We’re so happy to see you’ve made a safe travel!” Chimed in Queen Catherine-Helene. What an annoying name. Nonetheless she was his best customer. “You must be Ivory - you certainly stand out, don’t you?” She inquired curiously, her dainty fingers hungry to touch his clothes and backpack. He was not a rose petal, but Ivory stood still nonetheless. Hell, he offered a bow.

“Yes, your highness. It’s a pleasure to present Prince Elior’s crown,” he spoke, a bit louder and a bit more confident then when speaking to the carriage driver. “Is… he present at the time?”

While the Queen’s hands were hungry to observe every bit of The Dark she could, they retracted to her hips upon the mention of her late son. “Ah, he’s… a bit busy at the moment unfortunately, but he will be joining us soon. You intend to stay the night, yes? Oh, I do wish you brought an ambassador., there’s much we would love to discuss with your people. Alas - what matters now is that our son receives his crown, hm?” She replied, her eyes darting to the elegant marble staircase that led to the upper levels of the palace.
 
Inhale.

Compose.

Exhale
.

Staring at his own reflection in the typically overly-grand mirror lining the wall of the vast living area, Elior studied his expression for any fault or flaw; for any hair out of place or blemish upon his complexion. The anger lines had vanished now he had succeeded in bringing a level of calm to his demeanour, the mantra he followed and actions that accompanied them having helped him countless times over the years when his patience was pushed to its limits. Not once had he publicly exploded or allowed anything to disrupt the angelic act, and though he would always praise himself as a superb actor who could weather any storm, he knew much of his success came down to moments like this - the quiet, private moments were he psyched himself up, or calmed himself down, in preparation for the duties he had to act his way through.

Smoothing out the faintest of creases in his collar, he spared a few more seconds eyeing every detail of his reflection before smiling broadly, just to drink in the full effect that everyone beyond the doors would witness. The effect, naturally, was (in his eyes, at least) impressive, his approval arriving mere moments later. He didn't require the approval of someone from The Dark but he did desire the effect his kindness to Ivory would garner. He needed to make a good impression, show his people that he wasn't the judgemental sort who would cast a critical eye on a visitor to their land.

He was that judgemental person, of course, but he couldn't let them know that. No, he had to charm this visitor, flash him that same golden smile, offer him the kind words everyone had come to expect from their Prince, and lavish in the praise such an approach would inevitably garner him. It took incredible acting on his part, but there was something so satisfying in lying through his teeth and having everyone soak it up.

The game was often far more fun when there was a challenging nature to it.

Convinced he couldn't improve on perfection, Elior eventually strode from the room and made his way to the staircase that led to the hall. His smile was already fixed in place the moment he left the comfort of his own privacy, but he made a concerted effort to make it appear more natural than it actually was when he heard his mother's cheery voice carry through the hall, countered by the deeper tones of their visitor. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from someone from The Dark but...as he, with effortless grace, made his way down the staircase and locked eyes with Ivory, every preconceived idea immediately crumbled.

He had anticipated someone... pale from the lack of sunlight; someone short, thin, weak as a result of their circumstances beneath the surface. He didn't envision facing someone taller than him; someone clearly strong from the work they undertook. Being proven wrong was never ideal for someone like Elior, who believed they knew it all, but actively having to digest just how wrong he had been without the ability to express his frustration was incredibly difficult.

But the smile remained, coinciding with an outstretched hand to Ivory.

"I apologise for my lateness, it's most regrettable. I assure you, going forward, you have my full attention," he greeted cheerily, his blue eyes focused on Ivory's face and doing their best not to wander up and down him in the same curiosity his mother had done little to disguise. He, meanwhile, sought to be more subtle with his analysis, not wanting his curiosity or interest to be observed by anyone, Ivory especially.

"I've been looking forward to your visit-- you must indulge me with stories over dinner. You will eat with us, won't you? Ah, we won't take no for an answer. It'll be our pleasure, won't it Mother? For our guest to dine with us?"
 
Oh, this was already annoying.

He knew he wasn't going to be treated like a normal citizen of The Light but he had at least hoped not to be treated like an animal. He knew it was a culture shock but Ivory wasn't granted the honor of being able to follow his curiosity and ask the questions he wanted to in fear of upsetting the royal family. He was there to be a good representative and get the Lumineira family to perhaps grace them with more resources such as medicine. Medicine that would have saved his- life saving medicine. He wanted to get to his plans already, bypass the formal dinner and simply force Elior as his victim and while he had no intentions of actually killing anyone, the craving to do so was lingering within his core.

Much like the Prince though, he had worked on his poker face and while his knuckles may have changed from their vantablack color to a hint of gray. He was thankful for still being bundled up though he would admit that the warmth that the many layers of fabric offered were beginning to cause him to sweat. He sighed quietly - hopefully too quietly for the other three to hear - before unwrapping his face and removing the goggles. Thankfully the inside of the home, while still bright enough that he had to blink a bit, was dimmer than the blazing sun he wasn't quite ready to face (literally.) He hesitated as he unraveled the wrapping of his face but once on full view, he fully expected that same curiosity to only heighten now that he was in full view. He knelt down briefly, pulling the jade box out and replacing the space with his clothes.

"Of course, I would be honored to attend a formal dinner with you all, if I am allowed," Ivory replied after returning to his feet, his features now on full display as he held the box delicately. Once again did he bow, a knee to the ground as he presented the jade box. It wasn't perfect, far from it, but the color was immaculate. It's sharp angles could be ignored for it's color, the strange inclusions casting shadows in the sun as it poured in. Through the box was the crown, the design intricate and beautiful. 'Bloody perfect'. his father described it. The swirls in the metal get the hard, sharp center offered a beautiful combination of femininity and masculinity in it's design (mostly because he had no idea what Elior looked like).

Taking in the Prince fully now, he was... hm. He couldn't deny the man was handsome, or at least not poor looking for someone from The Light. His anger still fumed, overpowering the slight curiosity he felt within his chest. Once the box sat within Elior's hands, he sat up fully and peered down at the Prince, choosing to keep a neutral expression in his eyes rather than the fury he felt. He offered a smile nonetheless though, however crooked it was, before returning to his bag.

"I would love to be shown where I may be staying, if that isn't too much to ask. I'm dreadfully tired from my trip, resting my bones would be nice.'
 
Elior's insistence to himself that he continue to maintain his impenetrable front and bestow upon Ivory all the kindness and sweetness that had come to be expected of Hollowslocke's crown prince was rigid, leaving no room for manoeuvre. He was determined to keep the facade as tight as it always was, not because he cared about making a good impression on Ivory individually but because he wanted -no, needed- his own kingdom to look upon the favourability he showed to this stranger and remark how wonderful he was for it.

That meant every minute, every second, had to be considered, every move he made analysed and every word thought over before he out anything into action because even the slightest of things, however minimal they might be, could alter the carefully crafted mask that had stood him in good stead for years.

And yet, in spite of his determination and the continued repetitions in his own head to keep himself and his true emotions under control, there was a flash of sincerity, his expression highlighted with an emotion that hadn't been constructed for the occasion. The cause of the incredibly rare disruption from his plans? The sight of the crown, his crown.

He knew to anticipate something of genuine quality, or his mother would never have sung Ivory's praises as vocally as she did. As much of a disappointment his mother often proved herself to be to Elior, he could at least admit that her taste was exquisite, and he had the utmost faith in her choices - if she said that Ivory would craft him a crown for the ages, then he was comforted, expecting something that met his often impossibly high standards.

But this crown? It surpassed those entirely. The icy blue of his eyes lit in delight as his fingers, long and nimble, carefully lifted the crown from its case to observe its craftsmanship up close. The combination of grace and strength, the gentle detail juxtaposing its firm construction, was... well, it was him. It symbolised everything he was, everything he sought to be.

The fact someone from The Dark had managed to craft something that so perfectly suited him and his tastes was extraordinary, almost disbelieving, and though his mask quickly rearranged itself, the light that had lit behind his eyes, the intenseness of his curiosity, had yet to fully lift.

"...This is remarkable, Ivory. It is, in a word, perfect. Your work is... it is beyond anything I could have imagined," he praised, the words not necessarily untrue -he was immensely proud of the crown that would rest on his head for years to come- but the manner they were delivered in was entirely false. He would never willingly compliment someone to such extremes, particularly someone as beneath him as Ivory was, but he couldn't casually disregard the hard work Ivory had put in without coming across like an elitist narcissist.

It was why, however genuinely grating it was, he was quick to offer a smile in response to Ivory's request. He saw no need to accompany him on the journey to his room when that was a job for one of the servants. It was utterly demeaning to take the job on, as though he was expected to undergo that menial duty when, in contrast, he was a Prince who had far more important matters to concern himself with - but he was smart. He knew that this was another golden opportunity to appear... humble, kind, accommodating. Throwing that aside because of how much it disgusted him would be a wasted opportunity, looked back upon with regret.

"Oh, of course. You've had a long journey, you'll want to rest up before dinner. Forgive me. Allow me to personally show you to your room for the night, it would honestly be my pleasure, Ivory," smiled Elior as he carefully placed the crown back within its case, forcing himself to not become engrossed in admiring the item once again. "Come, your room is on the second floor; there's a remarkable view of the gardens from the veranda, I'm sure it'll be to your liking."
 
Was the praise nice? Of course. He was only a man, terms of praise would always pluck at his heart… but at the same time, what did it matter what any of these people say? To have praise from a neighbor on his handiwork meant miles more than the words that came from Elior’s lips because they knew the time and craftsmanship that went into the crown. To Ivory, hearing the praise was simply hearing a fact be spoken aloud. Nonetheless he offered a toothy smile to feign the joy he knew he was meant to feel in that moment, force back the glee he knew his father was most likely experiencing from his mind.

The man didn’t do much smiling in recent years and Ivory was no different, so little smiling that Ivory never noticed how his father’s teeth had been ground from countless restless sleep -

Ivory blinked, forcing the thought from his mind. His eyes, large and curious as a boy, were locked on Elior in particular before he began to speak in response.

“Thank you,” he began simply before turning to face the Queen in particular. He offered another small bow, “I put the utmost passion and care into my commissions. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details but just know it was not just I who worked on the crown’s creation but many hardworking miners-“

“Yes, yes, no doubt! Now I suggest you run along, get settled. Elior will happily show you to your room,” interrupted Elior’s mother as she clasped her hands together, her smile holding an air of falseness. She couldn’t compare to her son’s skills after all and, if she were to know, she would most likely be proud of her son’s talent to hide his true emotions. A certified actor! She waved her hand dismissively albeit with a smile nonetheless and Ivory had to do everything he could not to cringe.

“Thank you, your majesty.” Ivory replied quietly, his eyes only briefly having left Elior to acknowledge her words. He motioned said Prince forward to lead the way before picking up his pack to hold tight. He paused, allowing the other to make a move first before following behind through the halls of the palace.

For once in his journey to The Light, Ivory’s eyes did brighten oncd taking in the paintings. Art wasn’t uncommon in The Dark but it was often in the form of statues but painting? As adjusted as thr citizen’s eyes were to the dark it was still difficult to paint, even though plenty of pigments used in paints was from The Dark. The bright light was beginning to cause a headache but he didn’t mind if it meant he could observe the paintings just a little longer. He knew he could ruminate on them later before dinner, his head swiveling back to Elior as they moved up the steps.

“… I’m glad you enjoy your crown, Elior.” Ivory offered after a moment, his voice hushed now that they were no longer by his parents’ side. “If you have any questions, I would be happy to answer them.”
 
Witnessing his mother's efforts to feign a smile that had come so naturally to Elior over the years was just one more reason to justify his belief that he was... better than her. He wasn't immune to the mask slipping, with the sight of the crown and the genuine surprise that flooded his expression being the most recent of examples of that, but he was at least held together enough, under an expert level of self-control, to manage to keep more... judgemental emotions under wraps.

It was one thing letting his surprise take over, given the positive connotations that reaction had, and another to grimace brazenly in response to the sight of Ivory, or scowl in barely contained outrage at the disrespect he felt the other, purposefully or otherwise, had chosen to embark upon. No, despite feeling both of the latter emotions, rolling over him in waves, he was still able to flash a dazzling smile and proceed onwards with the air of friendliness.

His mother really ought to learn a lesson or two from him.

Biting back the need to order Ivory to respect his title and refer to him as such (even if it took every fibre of strength within him to let the lack of 'your highness' pass by without comment), Elior eventually determined that he was composed enough to glance back at his guest without any indication of his rage being witnessed. In doing so, he caught the other's unsubtle fascination with the grand pieces of art that lined the walls, most portraits but others landscapes or picturesque sceneries depicting the beauty that encompassed The Light.

A part of him naturally wanted to lean into the latter purely to drive home how superior his world was to the one that existed beneath the ground's surface, but, aware that he was likely to enjoy that too much to keep a handle on the faux naivety of such remarks, he once again bit the inside of his cheek until the urge for that particular dose of mischief had faded.

"I don't wish to bore you with the questions I have, I'm sure you're far too tired to indulge my fascination-- but perhaps at dinner, when you're rested up a little, you will allow them? I am curious regarding the process, from its start to its completion. I wasn't being complimentary out of politeness, I assure you. The crown is a marvel to behold and my curiosity comes entirely from a place of... well, being a fan, I suppose," he quipped lightly in reply, flashing another bright smile over his shoulder down at Ivory, at least enjoying the momentary advantage he had at peering down at him, rather than the reverse being true whenever they were stood on solid ground. It irked him more than he cared to admit to, given how little he really mattered - but he wasn't going to pass up the chance to derive a little satisfaction in being able to look down at him, as literally as he already did metaphorically.

"I notice you're an admirer of our art?" He said with a brow raised, coming to a stop at the top of the staircase and nodding for emphasis to the nearest portrait; a detailed depiction of his great-aunt. "Princess Tamara, my grandmother's youngest sister. Supposedly fond of causing quite the scandal but best not to enquire too much into that; I doubt my mother would be keen to get into details of her aunt's unconventionality."

A smile, this time a little more playful in nature, rested on his lips as he broke his focus from the portrait.

"My portrait is in the library, upon my insistence. I can't bear to have it hanging so publicly on these walls, it's... rather embarrassing, wouldn't you say?" He proceeded as he made his way through the expansive hallway to a door at the far end of it. The modesty was, as always, falsified - nothing appealed to Elior more than having his grand portraits lining the walls of the castle, but he had come to accept that admitting that wouldn't earn him as much favour as pretending to be horrified at the narcissistic element of it all.

"Ah, no matter-- here's your room."

Encouraging Ivory to take the first step in, he was quick to follow behind him, his eyes peering around approvingly. From the deep blue and gold colour scheme to the antique wood that made up the various pieces of furniture in the room, there was little, in Elior's view, to critique - and frankly, someone born to a world of tunnels beneath the surface of the world really ought to find no fault in the luxuriousness of it all.

"I'm sure you'll be comfortable-- the bathroom is through that door, there. By all means, take a hot bath and unwind. There are bath salts and lotions and petals-- use whatever you desire, Ivory. You are a guest and I take it as my duty to ensure you leave us content and happy. Nothing is off limits; if you need anything, ask away. Come to me personally if need be, I'm happy to accommodate you."
 
"They're beautiful," Ivory admitted as he took in the detailed work. Most of it simply looked like shapes to him; the trees and their vibrant colors were unrecognizable to him and the clouds were a concept that had only ever been described. As far as he was aware, the detailed Romantic style portraits and landscapes were abstract in nature, rather than a realistic (albeit glorified) rendition. A few long blinks could be seen from the man, perhaps seen as Ivory truly taking in the art before him.

In reality, it was Ivory reminding himself why he was in The Land of The Light anyway. This wasn't the time to enjoy fine art or exchange in simple pleasantries, he was there on a very specific, very dangerous mission. He cleared his throat to center himself before looking up at Elior with those same curious eyes. He had to keep the mission as his focus, he had to or he would return to The Dark with nothing changed. Quickly cutting the distance that had grown between them short once looking away from the paintings and instead kept his eyes forward, his hands gripping onto the strap of his pack tightly. Whether it was for comfort or out of anger was yet to be seen.

His grip did lighten as he took in the bedroom he would call home,that disgusting fascination returning as he took in the ornate decor. The wood of the dresser felt strange under his hands, the knotholes grazing his callouses carefully. There was a lightness to the material that Ivory had never experienced before and his mind tried to figure out a way to accurately describe it to his father. Pumice-like? It wasn't quite as light nor as porous -

Those long, focused blinks. His eyes looked away from the wood he found himself admiring to the mirror attached to it. He had seen his reflection in the natural hot springs that he and many of the other citizens of The Dark used as a bath but that was always in the dim light of the bioluminescent mushrooms or candles. To see himself, his eyes wide like they had been when he was younger, unsettled him firstly. To see that his body seemed to suck in the light around him as well was strange, a black hole to the vibrant colors that made up the guest bedroom. His eyes didn't linger on himself long, instead shifting to Elior behind him as he found his heart begin to beat faster.

He could do it, then and there. They were alone, right? He could easily overpower any servant that tried to step in, couldn't he? He could pretend to be searching for something in his bag and lock the door before Elior would notice. He...

Blink.

"Thank you, Elior, this is all very much appreciated," Ivory replied and once again, his voice soothing yet monotone. He moved carefully to rest his bag on the floor beside the bed before unraveling the shawls of fabric that left his appearance vague. There was no way he wasn't going to take advantage of his fantastic bath after all, he wasn't an idiot. While his skin seemed to absorb all light, one didn't need to see the detail of his muscles to know he was strong. He peered over at Elior, blinking a bit as he waited for the other to leave. "I would like to be alone for a little bit, if I may?"
 
The long silence that followed their entry into the room was... curious. Elior wanted to say that it was disconcerting, but when he rarely, if ever, felt that emotion, he didn't know if that was how he even felt as he stood on the periphery of the scene, watching as Ivory made contact with his own reflection and stood, as though transfixed, by what he saw staring back at him. No, it wasn't strange, it was... intriguing, if nothing else, Elior's brow having subtly raised as the silence passed by without interruption.

Automatically, life returned to his own eyes as he made up for the monotoned words with energy flooding his own; falsified enthusiasm to maintain his image. Even if he had the luxury of privacy with Ivory to allow it to drop, confident that nobody would ever believe the guest were he to inform anyone he could of the Prince's abrupt change in personality, what was the point? It was tiring having to maintain the display to someone who a) nobody would believe in the first place and b) would, if everything went the way he believed it would, be back on his way to The Dark in the morning, but it was better to be safe than it was to be sorry.

Hell, perhaps Ivory would return home and inform his people that the Prince of The Light was nice, but ultimately a pushover; someone who did what he could to please without harbouring much of a backbone in the process.

Now, wouldn't that be perfect for his plans; to lull them into a false sense of security and take them by surprise when he became King? When he sent in the troops and demolished their pathetic excuse of a country--

"Oh, of course; there I go again, off in a dreamland. By all means, unpack and relax. If you feel like resting until dinner, come down to the main dining hall around... 7, I'd say. We have some guests arriving, some close friends to the family; aristocrats, you know the sort. But I say that not to put you under pressure but to... give you time to prepare. Could be a tad cruel of me if I failed to inform you of what you will be walking into. Would rather be like a poor lamb walking into the lions' den," he laughed, the sound musical and rich - even if Elior, in contrast to it, was... cold.

All that did, in his eyes, was prove just how remarkable an actor he was.

He made his way to the door now there seemed little more to say to his guest though, upon reaching the exit, he stopped and took a final glance back at Ivory.

"Oh, and welcome to Hollowslocke, Ivory. To The Light. I'm sure your time here will be one to remember, hm?"
 
Ivory followed the other out, his hand gripping the handle to the door tight as he pictured slamming Elior's head into it over and over and-

He was forced out of his daydream, upon hearing the Prince speak and couldn't hide the slight twitch in his eye at the mention of other aristocrats joining them. That... could be bad. The King and Queen he could handle, maybe even the servants, but other aristocrats? How may would there be? He planned to escape in the night with Elior, ideally with him still alive but a small part of him thought that perhaps that detail could slip if need be. Assuming they were to stay the night as well, were they going to treat him similarly? Like some strange animal on display? The thought made him want to groan, but he held himself together.

Just because Elior seemed to be a good actor didn't mean Ivory couldn't do the same.

"I'm sure I will be fine, but thank you. You've been quite the gentleman to me, Elior, though I'm sure you are like that to everyone," Ivory reassured, offering his best, large smile, even if his striking eyes did narrow a bit. He fully intended to annoy the man by ignoring his royal title because why should he care? He was from The Dark, a completely separate group no longer influenced by the rule of The Light on a governing level. To him, Elior was nothing but a brat simply by his lifestyle, whether he was perfect in how he acted or not. He couldn't reply with hostility for a plethora of reasons but he at the very least could be passive-aggressive in his dismissive attitude, however small of an action it was to simply not call him a Prince. He could tell it would grind the other's gears as he stood by the door, savoring the height difference himself as he looked down at the future King.

"As for my stay, I'm sure I will." He added quickly, his smile growing briefly before quickly closing the door, indifferent to how close it was to Elior's face. He had some time to himself, time to relax and take in the overwhelming culture shock fully now that he stood in a bedroom with a functioning bathtub. He didn't know if he would like it but the idea of the various salts and powders that would aide in his bath time sure would make it more enjoyable. He considered it a calm before the storm of sorts, enjoying the warmth and smells offered to him that certainly wouldn't be offered anywhere in The Dark. Perhaps he could leave and explore the palace a bit once he was done, take in the art. Perhaps he could ruin those paintings. The idea caused him to laugh, the first genuine laugh he had uttered in quite a while. He knew it would be nearly impossible but wouldn't it be nice? A little touch added to his plan?

For now, he chose to focus on the bath he ran for himself and happily dumped every bit of dainty salts and glitters offered to him, watching the hot water change in color.
 
It... had to be purposeful at this point, didn't it?

There was no way this... idiot could be obtuse that he thought it was proper to continually refer to the Prince as though he was a common man on the street, could there?

And then there was the door coming to shut right in front of his face; that surely wasn't an accident either, was it?

Elior stayed staring at the wood of the door just mere centimetres from his face, too struck by his genuine shock to realise that he ought to move away and busy himself with something he was expected to be involved with before a servant arrived on the corridor and observed his otherwise... odd behaviour. But he couldn't move away with the sort of suddenness he ought to display when his mind was overrun, thoughts colliding with one another at a hundred miles per hour, crashing relentlessly and provoking up another thought in its wake.

He wanted to believe that Ivory was merely an idiot, so unused to life in a civilised society that he had yet to understand its customs and expected behaviours. Such an impressed was steeped in disrespect and disregard, in superiority and elitism, but Elior wasn't too concerned with how cruel his opinion of Ivory was; not when he was certain it was the truth. Yes, Ivory had to be that way, merely naive to the world he momentarily inhabited, because the alternative, that he was doing this on purpose, fully aware of his actions?

Well, that was unthinkable and it couldn't stand. The idea of not being liked by someone from The Dark wasn't devastating to Elior, but it gave him... trouble; something to feel concerned by. There was undeniably anger at the core of his reaction if this was all purposeful, the downright disrespect being shown to him by a literal nobody being so outrageously rude that he almost had to laugh at it, but beyond that, there was... a flicker of panic.

If this person could inherently dislike him even despite the expertise in which his act was delivered, did that mean others would fail to be fooled by it? Did that mean the people whose affection he genuinely needed would gradually fail to be pulled in? Did that mean he, however hard he tried, was destined to face opposition to his plans?

He shook his head abruptly to free him of the troublesome thoughts - because no, none of that would happen. One miserable interaction with a nobody from a horrid little country was hardly going to impact his future going forward. He had a land who doted upon him, who thought him the golden child to lead them to a future of prosperity and joy.

Ivory was either a naive idiot or a bumbling fool whose disrespect knew no bounds - and neither was going to ruin Elior's mood nor the confidence in his plans.

Occupying himself in the proceeding hours with work in his study, he only became aware of dinner approaching when a servant thought it useful to remind him - a gentle word that stirred him into action. Without it, he would have likely been late to arrive - one late arrival to greet Ivory was easily understood, but arriving late to a dinner with the Land's aristocrats; powerful people he had to keep on side? Oh, that couldn't happen and, for once in his life, he found himself grateful for the servant's interruption.

It didn't take too long to ready himself for the occasion. Donning the traditional finery of The Light with his hair perfectly combed into his place, Elior arrived into the dining hall with a few minutes to spare. With a charismatic smile, he made his way to greet each and every one of the guests; people he had known his entire life and knew, therefore, precisely the right words to impress them - be it a quiet mutter of politics or a kind compliment on the latest fashions on display in the room. He eventually reached his parents' side, leaning down to peck his mother's cheek and offering his father a friendly pat on the shoulder before surveying the room as a whole.

"Ah, our guest has yet to arrive, I see?" He commented aloud, taking his seat to his father's right and taking absent note of the empty space to his own left; a space he realised was designated for Ivory. "...Let's not bombard the fellow with questions or looks tonight, if I may politely request. I can only imagine how daunting this must be for him so let's... go easy on the chap, hm?"
 
Oh, he felt amazing.

The bath was well appreciated by the weary Ivory, his bones aching from the sudden temperature change alone, something he hadn't really realized until he was left alone in the guest bedroom. There were a lot of things he had realized now that he was alone; that the window could open, for starters. Secondly, that there were strong vines growing right beside it that he could very easily climb, right? There had to be some truth in the tale his grandfather told him! Worst comes to worst he could very easily survive a jump that high, but could Elior? He also noticed just how light everything was. Most chairs were, unsurprisingly, carved out of stone - typically still a part of the ground, unmovable. When the chair sat at the vanity could be picked up and moved about with ease, Ivory wasn't afraid to admit that he was downright fascinated, desperate to know the materials used. The best part of course was the bath though, the feeling of freshness like nothing he could gain from a quick wash in the hot springs in The Dark.

He emerged from the bathroom with a sigh, steam sizzling off of his own body. The heat the sun had offered wasn't quite so unbearable as he sat back onto the bed, staring out at the sun as it lowered in the sky. He couldn't quite look out without squinting dare his headache get worse but he did have to admit that, for a moment, he could appreciate what The Light had to offer - in the privacy of his own bedroom, with no prying eyes to watch his reaction.

The bed? Eh, it was alright. He had grown accustomed to the stone bed he grew up with and, while the fabric was nice, it didn't compare to his blankets at home. No, they were soft and warm while there was an odd crunch to the comforter. If he had an issue with texture it would be a sensory nightmare, he noted. He knew he couldn't just sit on the bed naked staring at the wild fields all night though, he knew he had to get dressed - and get dressed into something nice, no doubt. Fucking aristocrats.

He dressed himself in the best clothes he had: harem style pants, grey in color with small and intricate designs hand-painted into the side, offered to him as a gift at the announcement of his trip. A simple grey sleeveless mock turtleneck as well as his sister's shawl, draped neatly and covering his skin. He of course had to add the jewelry, each finger featuring at least one ring if not more, as well as the large citrine necklace - all hand made by him, bar his mother's necklace. He stared at himself in the mirror a moment longer, humming in approval at how handsome he felt knowing he was most likely going to be gawked at. With a sigh, longing desperately to remain in the room and enoy his brief respite from his mission, he eventually emerged from his room and followed the staircase down.

It was much easier to maneuver now that the sun had lowered and the temperature had dropped a bit, so while he didn't exactly have a spring in his step as he walked down the stairs he could at the very least observe the paintings better before facing the horrors of a dinner with the royal family and their cohorts. To see the expansive table filled with guests did make his heart stop for a second but he trudged on, offering a toothed smile to the others. before offering a bow to the King and Queen. He took his seat beside Elior, offering him no acknowledgement as he finally took his seat.

"I apologize, I hope I didn't keep you waiting," Ivory insisted as he sat on the wooden chair, once again making a mental note of how easily they cold move and be picked up. Could he throw it, would it break on impact?
 
Oh, this was definitely purposeful.

There was little doubt in Elior's mind of that suspicion, which had now become undoubted fact. He may have spent hours free from dwelling on the curious case that Ivory seemed to represent to him, but he seemingly wasn't free entirely from pondering it. Granted, he no longed needed to concern himself with wondering just what it was Ivory thought and felt about him, with the conclusion drawn being that of annoyance and even, dare he say, dislike.

It was more than obvious that all of his charm proved ineffective or simply unnoticed by the visitor, and while he ought to shrug it off as the idiocy of a stranger whose opinion meant absolutely nothing in the long run, it wasn't... easy to do when he was so noticeably snubbed by him at the table; a table Ivory should be on his knees thanking him for the opportunity to dine at.

No muscle twitched in his jaw, neither eye narrowed, in his disgust. Rather, the smile seemed to freeze in its place as he chose to keep his eyes focused on Ivory. It wasn't natural nor particularly accommodating, but in that moment, so caught up in the intensity of his rage, he failed to recognise how many seconds were passing with him locked in that position. He eventually managed to regain himself and his senses, turning to offer the smile at the other guests who were far more grateful for it than Ivory ever could be, but the light didn't quite each his eyes; the smile not quite as... easy as it usually was.

It was still a good act, still solid in how believable it was, but he was rattled and that had its effects, no matter how minimal they were. In hindsight, at a later period when he was calmer, he would look upon the slip up as something to regret; something that could never happen again.

But for now, he was just grateful he had controlled himself enough not to grab Ivory by the neck and--

"I do hope you enjoy," he encouraged with a nod to the first course, crab on a bed of light salad, as he reached for his glass of wine. His efforts to appear the gentle-hearted Prince, concerned for the comfort of his guest, seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, with the unsubtlety of the other guests at the table in their open stares and whispers occurring in spite of what he had requested - but what did he care? All he had to do was make the effort in suggesting they be polite and kind, the result of which would cast him in remarkable light.

If they chose to ignore it and instead followed instinct in staring openly at the stranger to their lands, and made Ivory increasingly uncomfortable as a result... well, that was more a benefit to Elior than a negative.

He could at least register some enjoyment from that.

"Do tell, what constitutes a good meal in The Dark? What are your specialities down there?" Continued Elior with feigned intrigue, his eyes momentarily dipping to the countless rings lining Ivory's fingers. "I'm ashamed to admit I know very little about your land. My ignorance is, ah... regrettable. All the time in the world to educate myself and I haven't thought to do so on your home. Rather embarrassing, no?"
 
What little of his mood that had lifted was gone now upon facing the strangers, his eyes scanning them each unsubtly - and he had no fear in doing just that given they seemed to be just as unsubtle. The only difference was that he could hide his expression as long as he didn’t open his mouth to speak, the long stare at himself in the mirror causing Ivory to realize that his expression simply sank into the consuming void that was his skin.

In brought some pride to him, knowing that his people could read one another’s body language despite this detail. He couldn’t say the same for Elior and the citizens of The Light as his eyes locked on the long-held smile. His brow raised slowly as a smile grew on his lips - one blind to Elior. He knew he couldn’t do much as a guest but if he could rattle the little Prince’s ego just a bit, he was willing to.

Not to mention focusing on that rather than the growing whispers was far more favorable.

“Well,” Ivory began as his eyes eventually moved to the plate before him. He stared at the crab with curiosity before using his fork to pierce the shell before looking at the others’ plates to confirm he was doing it right, “I would say we have a dish not too dissimilar to this. Cave spider on a bed of lichen was my mother’s favorite, for example.”

He blinked at the horrified whispers that followed, once again not necessarily surprised. Ivory was sure if he mentioned the crab and salad that he would receive the same horrified looks from his neighbors. His hand moved to grip the stem of the wine glass tightly, though he had worked with enough glass to know not to snap it. He took a sip, humming to himself as he tasted the strange wine, before deciding he quite liked it and took another sip.

It wasn’t at all similar to the wine they made in The Dark but it was good nonetheless. ‘Grapes’, his grandfather described. Ivory liked grapes.

“Though that isn’t exactly the meal of pure elegance. Cave spiders aren’t a rarity and lichen is typically plentiful as long as we don’t over harvest it.”
 
"Cave spider? That sounds--"

Revolting.

"--interesting," replied Elior diplomatically, silencing the instinctive criticism that threatened to slip through. He would have mirrored the same horror expressed upon everyone else's faces at the table had he lacked the control to manage it in time - but that didn't mean he didn't inwardly feel the same disgust everyone else seemed to obviously feel. They chose not to openly embark on pestering Ivory to elaborate further on how a cave spider could constitute a decent meal out of politeness, but confusion continued to reign - their inability to understand something perfectly normal for him and his people meaning, in their eyes, that it simply couldn't be a valuable meal source for those in The Dark - because they, with their expensive seafood and wealth of fresh seasonal vegetables, knew what was best when it came to food, right?

Frankly, Elior was surprised that not one person seemed curious enough to detach themselves from their efforts at politeness to offer a critique, even one expressed gently with apparent consideration. Such an intervention might have gone against what he expressly asked of them -to be on their best behaviour- but hell, it wouldn't have been the first time they selfishly followed their own desires over his own. It was precisely why Elior had a long list of names of those who had irked or wronged him over the years; a list he was happy to tick off one by one when he was in the ultimate position of power and authority in the land.

Until then, those that he had marked down on that list could at least try and worm their way back into his good books by being a pain in the ass to someone that wasn't him. Critique Ivory until they were red in the face if they so desired; call him out on his horrid meals, pick apart his clothes, remark unfavourably on the horrid world he called a home-- anything to make Elior's night less miserable than it currently was.

And yet, for what could be the very first time, the guests seemed eager to honour his request, the more critical of words pushed aside in respect for their Prince and his desire that they treat Ivory politely.

He just had to remind himself that one day, all this infuriating goody-two-shoes behaviour would be worth it.

"Elegance means nothing when it comes to a good meal. If it's fulfilling and tasty, I think that is all that truly matters," continued Elior in what appeared as an attempt to support Ivory against the obvious judgement at the table, swooping in to act as a form of defence - solely because it made him look good in front of the right sort of people to impress and keep close to him, even if several at the table would come to realise that, rather than an ally, Elior had no intention of being too friendly to them once he rose to become King.

"Pay them no mind, Ivory," he opted to add beneath his breath, nodding across to the other in a continued show of support. Despite the effort to whisper and act as though the display was solely for Ivory's benefit, the subtlety of it wasn't completely unnoticed - and that was the point. He wanted his kindness to be observed; for others at the table to see him take that brief moment to reassure Ivory and be proud of him; be more impressed than ever that he was going out of his way to accommodate a stranger as... odd as ivory was, particularly when his subtlety in doing so gave the impression that he truly cared and wasn't doing it for attention.

But that was the art behind the moves he made - he could make something intentional and deliberately crafted into something that appeared so effortless and natural. Manipulation wasn't an easy art to master... but he would be far too modest if he claimed not to have developed some expertise in the field.

"For what it's worth, I would love to try a meal from your land. I am eager to do business with you again so perhaps the next time you visit, you can share with me some of your culture, much like you've enjoyed some of ours. Only if you care to continue to do business with my family, of course. Your talents are remarkable but I won't seek to demand you to put work in if you feel those talents are best used... elsewhere."
 
Staring back at the aristocrats that watched Ivory in horror with those same wide and curious eyes was more of a way to tease them if anything. It didn’t take a genuine to realize that anyone from The Light would be horrified by what he said, but the elite? The upper crust of their society? He would have been more surprised if they did what Elior was doing and try to sympathize with him.

He didn’t need sympathizing. What he needed was respect.

A brief blink before his eyes returned to the crab before him. It was true, the large shell of the crab and little legs were eerily similar to the spiders that were farmed and eaten by his people. He chose to, in the awkward silence, take his first bite.

It exposed just how sharp Ivory’s teeth were, however similar they seemed to Elior’s. They crunched the shell with ease, oblivious to the fact that it wasn’t meant to be ingested. He savored the flavor, a brow raising curiously. This tasted like shit. He wouldn’t let it go to waste though, it wasn’t in his nature. Perhaps his palate was more complex, perhaps it was just his tastebuds, but Ivory found himself craving the cave spider.

The bed of greens, thought? Absolutely divine. He let himself chew on it a bit longer to get the taste of the crab out of his mouth, a quiet and subtle hum of approval being heard if listened to closely enough. Ivory could enjoy himself, eating in silence like he often did with his father… but Elior was talking. It took every fiber of his being not to roll his eyes.

“You might be trying our food sooner than you think,” Ivory replied in a murmur as he locked his eyes on the Prince, an emotion behind his eyes that couldn’t quite be described. Anger? Joy? Fear? Nonetheless he kept his lock for a moment before eventually offering a smile, albeit one that certainly didn’t match his cruel gaze.

“Cave spiders are actually quite a helpful resource in The Dark. They’ve been domesticated and farmed, their chitin used in a lot of material. The young spiders are about this size, -“ he motioned to the crab on Elior’s plate , “ - but a mature spider can get to the size of a large child, typically. I believe the largest cave spider raised in captivity was about my height in length, though that was decades ago.” He explained simply, a smug smirk on his lips hidden. It was all true but to see more horror strike in the faces of these nobody aristocrats? It would make the dinner worth it.

“We eat more than spiders though, obviously.”
 
A nod. A smile. An 'mhm' and 'oh, quite' to indicate interest and assure the other that he was being listened to.

But all Elior wanted to do was cut the conversation off entirely, turn his attention elsewhere, to someone who not only would be grateful of it but someone he could entertain himself with. Trying to find enjoyment in a conversation with Ivory was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone and, though he knew the considerable benefits tied to providing him with his attention now, the task had become so tedious and grating in nature that he was almost at the point of abandoning it altogether. His guests had already heard him try and defend the newcomer; they had seen him cheerfully interact and devote his time and attention to taking in stories of his life in The Dark.

Did he really have to spend the entire night hearing him drone on, knowing, innately, that nothing he said or did would convince Ivory to like him? Because ultimately, that was the main detractor for Elior: knowing that ivory wasn't someone he could convert to being one of his innumerable fans. He didn't quite know why that was, what had failed in the attempt to win him to the side so many automatically flocked to at receiving even the slimmest dose of Elior's charm, but he couldn't give the benefit of the doubt a second longer.

It was torturous to his ego but the facts were obvious - Ivory disliked him and his blatant disregard of Elior's title had merely been the first of many indicators. He had to give the other credit for being relatively subtle, of course, but his mind had been made regardless of it: he couldn't delude himself into thinking that Ivory was simply naive and unaware of how to act around a man of his status.

And so, confident in his analysis, he wanted nothing more than to detach himself from the conversation and rebuild his confidence, boost his ego, by talking to someone who would lavish him with the praise he wanted; the praise he damn well deserved.

How he had overlooked his method to break the tedium of the evening up was beyond him, but, at the knock at the dining room door, the plan now unfolding into action finally came back to him and it took all the composure he had not to widely grin to himself at the genius of his own foresight.

He could never have anticipated Ivory being so... unwilling to cooperate, of course -his arrogance would never make room for the potentiality of someone not liking him- but Elior was wise enough to assume that the long evening would be draining on him; that everyone at the table would do their part in boring him to tears. Was he at fault, then, for allowing himself an opportunity for a little fun? To set up a scenario where he could escape the dining room for a few minutes and relieve himself of the negativity?

At the door, after the King's admittedly irritated order to enter, stood a soldier, his eyes darting to the table and those sat at it automatically. If he was daunted at being in the presence of so many established figures of The Light, he failed to show it - much like he failed to show much interest in keeping his attention on them for more than a second. There was no curiosity to be found in any of the guests at the table and the same went for Ivory - though the soldier's eyes eventually found their way to the newcomer, they darted away and landed once more on the King, as though indifferent to someone from The Dark being sat at a table amongst The Light's most powerful.

"Well? What is it, Nathaniel? What is so terribly important you deemed it appropriate to interrupt our dinner?"

"...I apologise, your Majesty. It's... an embarrassing oversight of mine," answered Nathaniel, a quick glance shifting to Elior. It wasn't... ideal, appearing the fool when he was otherwise remarkable at his job, but, apparently, the embarrassment he was forced to endure came second to what Elior needed -and required- of him. He had become used to it over the time they had been close, witnessing slivers of Elior's selfishness up in that proximity, but it didn't dissuade him from maintaining their affair. Why would it when, as loath as he was to admit it, he had come to crave every second he spent with him? "I have papers that require your signature regarding funds for weaponry but-- there's no excuse for interrupting your dinner like this. It can be resolved in the morning. Again, my deepest apologies to you, your Majesty and to you, my Queen--"

"Oh, it's only a few papers, Father. I'm sure my signature will suffice, Nathaniel? Allow me to quickly resolve this for you. There's little point in having you worry about repercussions from the General when I can spare a few minutes to have them signed for you tonight," smiled Elior as he set his napkin neatly on the table, casting an apologetic glance around the table. "Duty calls, I'm afraid, but I shouldn't be too long. I can't have the fellow be shouted at for a simple oversight, it wouldn't sit right with me. I'm sure you all understand? Now, excuse me - but do continue to dine without me. Don't allow a few minutes without me disrupt the flow of the evening."

With a further smile, he stood from his chair once it was pulled out from him and proceeded to stride from the room after the soldier, leaving his father to similarly smile in pride.

"You know that boy of yours works far too much, don't you Aledeus? Disrupting his meal to ensure that soldier doesn't suffer the consequences of his own idiocy? He oughtn't concern himself with the flaws of the staff--"

"Ah, but that's Elior. Too kind for his own good," remarked the King joyfully, his glass held up in the expectation for a nearby member of staff, stood on standby, to fill it for him - and they did so, without eye contact from the monarch or even a murmur of gratitude in response. "It's a flaw of his, I admit. It'll open him up for trouble; he'll get taken advantage of, having a good heart like that. But he has always been that way, that boy. I doubt there is much we can do to alter that."
 
As much as Ivory wanted to enjoy the little taunts towards Elior, he needed to keep an eye on the Prince, know where he was. Throughout his entire venture into The Land of The Light, the man’s composure had stayed mostly intact, bar little breaks. He hadn’t been raised in an environment where he felt he had to fake himself like the Prince had, after all, so it should be no surprise that his skills weren’t as honed as Elior.

It was because of that lack of practice that left Ivory shocked, the muscles in his back rolling a bit as he gripped his silverware tight. He watched silently as Nathanial entered the room and, for the first time since emerging from the tunnels, there was a very clear and distinct anger to the seemingly otherwise coolheaded Ivory. It was anger that he had forced down, swallowed countless times - but he was on the verge of throwing it up.

This wasn’t how his plan was supposed to go.

He didn’t care that Nathaniel seemed to disregard him, no. He was annoyed that he had been interrupted. He wanted to squeeze as much fun out of the scenario by annoying Elior as he could before acting on the brunt of his plan, yet that little fucking brat had to involve an otherwise innocent person in this? That anger that had stewed in him for months was on the verge of being seen -

Blink. Blink.

He let out the faintest of sighs as he steadied the rage that coursed through him. His thumb stroked the edge of the fork for comfort as he miraculously seemed to keep his temper at bay. He… had to relax. Everything would work out fine, this was just an awkward hiccup in an otherwise smooth evening, right?

“Perhaps he ought to be a little less kind. Grow a backbone.” Grow a backbone that Ivory could bash in with a rock over and over, maybe his skull too. “Being soft isn’t a characteristic ideal for a future King, your majesty. Kindness can often be seen for weakness and such a glorious kingdom like The Light shouldn’t fall due to its ruler being too kind.”

Ivory wanted to be sick. Offering The Light even the smallest bit of praise caused his stomach to churn, and the pieces of shell that now rest within it weren’t helping. He locked eyes, sharp and furious, on the pair as they left before glancing to the King and Queen, feigning his expression for shock.
 
"A backbone?" Repeated the King, not out of a desire to emphasis a comment he found to be outrageous in simply being uttered but in genuine surprise that it had been. There was no distinct anger behind it but, rather, quiet disbelief that Ivory had been the one to speak as openly as he did; offer up suggestions on how Elior could improve himself.

When most considered the Prince perfect, the idea of voicing a comment that suggested otherwise, regardless of their validity or the possibility to heighten Elior's future performance as King, was... well, unthinkable. It had rarely, if ever, been done, and yet, in this instance, it was a stranger to their lands that had opted to do so. He had spent time during the dinner conversing solely with Elior and so, in the King's eyes, he really ought to have understood that the Prince was a good soul; someone who would make a wonderful King when his time to take the throne arrived.

And though Ivory wasn't openly stating otherwise, the mere fact he thought Elior less than perfect, suggested ways he had left to improve, was... surprising, if not entirely untrue.

"I suppose he does have room to grow, yes. Kindness is a valuable asset, it is what has earned him the love of our people, but it can be... difficult to maintain kindness and also proceed with the decisions a King must make. That is true," he conceded after a further moment's thought. As deep as his desire to defend Elior was, doing so would only allow every guest at that table to realise that the King would willingly ignore the potential to gift his son the chance to be greater than he already was - and what sort of father, what sort of King, would he be if he turned a blind eye to that?

But he wouldn't allow his concession to go without a defence of some sort, that eventually arriving a few seconds after the main course arrived.

"But you must also understand that my son is, and forever shall be, gentle. He may not be a fierce ruler, but he has attributes to his character that will make him a great King. He is empathetic; a true man of his people. He understands them in a way I'm not sure even I do. He has their support, their love. That is a valuable thing to have, the loyalty of an entire country. A difficult thing to achieve. But Elior, through his gentleness and his kindness... well, he has it. I don't wish to make him someone he is not, you understand?"

How little the King actually knew his son was more obvious than ever in his compliments, all praising attributes that Elior willingly falsified for the very same benefits that the King also heaped praise onto. His admission that Elior was perhaps never going to be the strong ruler who wasn't afraid to exert his power was made in ignorance of the facts, the wool pulled over his eyes as much as it had been over the kingdom at large.

Elior would never risk the love his people had for him but he would use it to his advantage; use their loyalty and adoration to push forward with ideas and plans that no ruler before him had had the strength or the guts to see into action.

But to his parents, he was too gentle, too kind, to rule in any other way than out of the goodness of his heart.

If only they knew that, in the present moment, he was anything but gentle as Nathaniel pushed him up against the wall; as he eagerly accepted the rough kisses that he knew he could easily conceal behind his clothes.

"He has time to learn what is needed of him, I assure you. Years, really. I don't intend on dying anytime soon, after all," laughed Amadeus in good humour, the remark earning a hearty laugh from friends around the table, at which he raised his glass to capitalise on enjoying the moment. "No, no. He'll learn, he'll learn, as I did and my father before him. For now, his softness is an asset. It is what makes him him."