9. Windows To The Soul #2
Aquilan started and turned towards the young man. “What? Why?”
“I fear I have caused trouble between you and your brother.”
“No, no, you have done nothing. What is between Vesslan and I is of long standing,” Aquilan strove to assure him.
When Declan remained standing there, searching his face, Aquilan continued, “My brother and I have always been very different people. And since I am the younger sibling, in the past, I… I just accepted…” He grimaced, unable to fully explain how he had simply allowed his brother to roll over him, because there were no great stakes in doing so while pushing his own thoughts and feelings would have caused an argument.
What was one opinion of his compared to millions of Vesslan’s?
His brother cared so deeply about minutiae while he never had.
He had always perceived it as a weakness in himself, something a ruler needed to have, but he didn’t.
Yet despite the fact that he now ruled, he found himself even less interested in those things.
“I am king now. Things are different and it is hard for both of us. It was not a situation that either of us ever foresaw us being in.”
“He believed he would be king,” Declan stated, not asked.
Aquilan slowly nodded. “But he has supported my reign and is my closest advisor outside of Rhalyf.”
But even as he said those words he wondered if he said them too quickly as if to cut off any speculation to the contrary.
But was Vesslan really a person he relied upon?
Not exactly if he were honest. Rhalyf and Helgrom’s opinions mattered more to him.
And he sensed that Michael and Shonda’s opinions would have quite a bit of weight too.
He would be pushing against his brother’s viewpoints, not adopting them, more often than not.
When that happens, there will be great grief between us.
“I am glad that you are our king,” Declan said suddenly.
“Compared to Vesslan?” Aquilan blinked.
“Compared to anyone .”
Aquilan drew in a breath at the weight of those words upon him. “I fear I might not live up to your expectations, Declan. There is a certain messiness about ruling. Compromises and–”
“You mean giving land to the great Houses,” Declan said. Again, he clove to the very heart of what Aquilan was thinking.
A brief nod. It was strange, but he didn’t even consider whether it was wise to be speaking so openly to someone he had just met. Declan felt right .
“There will be trouble,” Declan said softly. “It will be hard. You will have to fight on all sides. But if you do that, you will come to the right solution. The best one.”
Aquilan regarded this stoic young man. Someone who seemed so much older than his years. And he nodded.
“I am not looking forward to it,” he admitted a little sheepishly.
“Such fights are cleaner on the battlefield. In this case, words will be the weapons,” Declan agreed. “You will cause people to bleed, but the wounds will be hidden and perhaps nursed for later revenge.”
“Yes.” He smiled softly. “You do not speak much, but when you do, Declan, you show a wisdom that few do who are thousands of years older than yourself.”
Declan said nothing. He just accepted the observation. Whether he agreed with it or not, Aquilan did not know. Again, Declan acted instead of spoke. The young man reached for the books he carried, but Aquilan caught his hand lightly.
“You do not need to carry these for me. In truth, I should take the ones you have,” Aquilan said.
Declan was silent for a moment, not reaching for his books, but not moving his hand back either. As if each word were a struggle, he said, “But I… I wish to carry them.”
Aquilan blinked. He actually felt the burn of what might have been tears behind his eyes.
He wasn’t sure why. Many people wanted to take care of him because of what he was: the Sun King.
But Declan seemed to not notice his position at all.
He found himself releasing Declan’s hand.
The young man gently took the books from him.
“In truth, if we were anywhere but Tyrael and the palace grounds, I would want my hands free,” Declan said in that quiet, deliberate way of his.
“Because you are afraid of being attacked by the Leviathan?” Aquilan’s heart twisted as he remembered that poor, broken-tipped kitchen knife from the day before that Declan had clutched onto so very hard.
“No,” Declan said with a faint frown, “I worry that they would attack you . I would need my hands free to keep you safe. Even a moment’s hesitation–to drop the books–might give them the opportunity to reach you.”
Aquilan’s lips parted. He was deeply touched by Declan’s statement. Many would say such a thing to impress their king, but he knew that Declan would have said this if Aquilan had no rank whatsoever and was a beggar in the street.
“But we are safe enough here,” Declan continued as he adjusted the books so that he carried a few under one arm and a few under the other. “For now at least.”
Aquilan could have said that he was quite capable of defending them both.
That it was his duty to defend them both.
That a human–no matter how skilled–could not do more against the Leviathan–or any foe–than him.
But he didn’t. Not only would it have insulted Declan unnecessarily, Aquilan sensed that it was not altogether true.
Declan had power. There was simply something about him that spoke of a warrior.
“Thank you, Declan,” he said simply. “I am honored that you would protect me.”
“I know how that sounds. A human protecting the Sun King,” Declan said quietly, “but I swear to you that I… that I would let nothing happen to you.”
“Just like you did with Finley and Gemma?” Aquilan asked, wondering what horrors the three of them had gone through to survive that night while waiting for him and the Protectors to arrive.
A simple nod. Not that he was expecting an explanation. Declan wasn’t chatty as he had noted before, but what happened during the beginning of the war was clearly still raw and bleeding for his Shadow. He would let it be. Perhaps someday, Declan would honor him with the tale.
The two of them began to drift down the avenue of flowers towards the front doors.
Pools of color–pinks, yellows, oranges, purples and reds–flowed out from the avenue of white stone.
The sweet, delicious scent of them filled his nostrils.
The low drone of bees could be heard over the wind.
He caught sight of many of the big-bodied, soft bumble bees as they flew from one flower to the next, collecting pollen for their hives.
He noted that Declan would glance out at the flowers and then quickly look back towards the white stone road as if the colors were blinding.
“What is Efenalune like?” Declan suddenly asked.
“It is…” Aquilan searched for a kind description of the rather abundanza palace, “very… ah… filled with… uhm… history.”
He saw Declan’s right eyebrow lift over the top of his sunglasses.
Aquilan let out a laugh. “All right, all right, it is gaudy and filled with junk.”
“Junk?”
“I shouldn’t say junk . But the Sun King and Queen who built it–King Sontar and Queen Eroan–were very fond of commemorating all of the Aravae’s alleged triumphs even if they were not all that triumphant.
There is no wall without an etching of some battle or another.
And most of it is gilded with gold,” Aquilan admitted. “Lots of gold.”
Declan nodded. “And Kyrion? What do you like about it?”
“I think you described it rather well earlier. Kyrion is simple, pure white stone with clean walls and graceful domes and arches. Not a touch of gilt to be found. But one can tell that it has been diminished in some way. There is a sense that it is a shell of what it once was. A ruin really. No Sun King or Queen has lived there since Ailduin’s time. ”
“Did you consider making your home there?” Declan asked as they reached the broad, graceful steps that led up to the front doors of the palace.
Two Protectors immediately crossed their arms over their chests and bowed low to Aquilan. He waved a hand to indicate that they could relax. The doors were already being opened by staff inside as they walked up the steps.
“I did,” Aquilan admitted. “But it felt like disturbing a tomb. And that felt wrong. But I intend to make sure that the palace is preserved and, perhaps, in time, it may not feel like a violation to live there for at least some part of the year.”
Declan went still again beside him and Aquilan quickly looked over at his Shadow to see what the matter was. Declan’s lips were open in almost distress and that distress became clearer with his words.
“So you will… will leave Earth?” Declan got out.
His eyebrows lifted. “Leave? Oh, no, no, you misunderstand. At most, I would only be gone a season of the year. I would return. You must not worry that I would abandon you–I mean, humanity –ever. And I have no intention of doing even that until things are far more settled here in a few centuries or more.”
Declan seemed to absorb this for long moments, but then he shocked Aquilan when he reached over and touched the Sun King for the first time on his own.
His right hand closed around Aquilan’s left forearm.
A tingle ran up his arm into his chest. It almost felt like magic.
As if Declan were imprinting something upon him.
His Shadow stared intently into Aquilan’s eyes and even the sunglasses could not hide the feeling behind his next words.
“Whatever Vesslan has made of this place, you must make it yours, King Aquilan,” Declan said firmly. “Change it into what you want. What pleases you best.”
Realizing what must be worrying his Shadow, Aquilan assured him, “No matter what it looks like, I will stay, Declan. You must not worry–”
“I would have you love it here,” Declan murmured even as his hand disengaged from Aquilan’s arm. The tingles remained. “That way there would be no question that you would remain here forever.”