Chapter 42- The Excelsior

Aven was the first to wake the next morning. Warm and comfortable, he could feel the heat of his lover as Lucian slept beside him, snores rumbling like the growl of some eldritch beast and lay half draped off the bed, still smelling of the stench of alcohol.

The man’s head pounded. They’d both been quite liberal with the alcohol last night - both in remembrance and in solace.

After all.... Today was the day. The day they’d been fighting for, and building towards for months. The day they were to finally return home. To Aeliorn.

He never thought he would be this eager to return to the place of his capture and harrow. The place where he was enslaved, beaten, abused. But he supposed.... Now it was different. Now, he had Lucian. Calloused fingers pushed through the man’s silky blonde hair and Lucian groaned, turning over in his sleep as he unconsciously pawed away Aven’s hand.

"Lucian," Aven hummed. Golden light peeked through the violet curtains, and he leaned forward to touch his lips to where the glow kissed Luican's face. "It's time to wake up."

"Fuck off." Lucian's voice was hazy. His face pressed into the pillows and Aven arched a brow. “Let me sleep...”

“Do you have a hangover?”

“I’m fine.”

Aven snorted and pushed up, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling and a series of cracks vibrated down his spine. “Well,” he said, shoving to his feet. “You can be the one to explain to Marcello why we’re late then.”

Blankets exploded and Lucian sat up. “Excuse me?”

Aven gestured idly to the window. That was not the light of dawn. It was high noon, and the sound of a city that had been awake for hours roared in the distance. “Aven!” Lucian hissed, scrambling from the bed. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I tried.”

“Once!”

“Look, we were both out, all right?!”

Lucian sent him an exasperated look and snapped his fingers. The closets burst open, unseen servants dragging clothes off of hangers and he put out his arms as the arcane beings swiftly dressed him. "Do you think Marcello would leave us?" He asked, laces fastened and buttons being done up in a flurry while a third unseen servant braided his hair.

“Maybe, if he’s irritated enough,” Aven said, dressing himself and he shoved a leg through his pants.

Lucian didn't answer. Aven's eyes swept over and in seconds, registered that Lucian looked... pale. His arms were out in a T pose as arcane hands tended to him, staring at the wall unfocused. "....are you going to be alright?"

“Yes.”

Aven waved away the unseen servants. They dissipated into silver sparkles and he took up the mantle of their job, finishing the braid and his large fingers delicately did up the back of Lucian’s tunic. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You can’t lie to me anymore.” Aven’s lips touched under the man’s ear. “I’m in your head now, remember?”

Lucian scoffed. “Much to my dismay. You’re far too nosy.”

“Only with you,” Aven teased. He fastened the last lace and drew back to admire his work. “...fit for a King.”

“Not quite a king yet,” Lucian reminded. He spun on his heel, tapping on his lip as blue eyes searched Aven’s figure. “But as for you... no. That won’t do at all. You look like a mess.”

"A mess?" Aven looked down at himself. "I thought I looked fine."

"Not quite."

Lucian clapped his hands and Aven was suddenly being poked and prodded by a dozen hands that stripped him of his clothes and began to fetch new apparel from the closet. Aven pouted. He knew better than to argue and let himself be trussed up, donning an expression akin to that like a miserable puppy getting a wash.

Rather than his leather armor, Lucian was having him dressed in a black coat with red and gold accents, and grey slacks rather than his travel worn brown trousers. "What is this...?" Aven questioned, looking at one of the tassels attached to the seams of his jacket.

"An upgrade." Lucian stood back to watch proudly. "I need you to appear as a man of your status.”

“My status...?”

Lucian hushed him with a kiss. He straightened Aven’s curly brown hair and for a moment... stilled. He leaned slightly to Aven’s weight and his breath spilled out. “....are you ready? Once we leave... everything will change.”

“For the better.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Aven’s fingers tilted Lucian’s face up. Loving. “Because up until this moment, we’ve only reacted. Now... we act. This is the first step to getting your throne back. And you’re going to be an amazing king.”

Red flushed to Lucian’s cheeks and he sighed, a hand curving to Aven’s hand. “I can only hope. Come... let’s see if Marcello waited for us.”

The city of Halarahh was draped in black following the Princess’ funeral. It was a loss that was felt throughout the entirety of the country - like a ripple expanding across the land. Laid to rest beside her mother and her father, taken too soon, Marcello had all but disappeared when the formalities requiring his presence were over.

Rather than the colourful banners of Halruaa, dark fabric ripped in the autumn breeze. Even in Halruaa, the eve of winter could be felt in the chill of the wind carried across the seas. The docks were loud, loud and sullen, most of the ships bearing ebon flags in honor of the fallen princess.

The waves sloshed against the shore, and ships bobbed on the water. Lucian's eyes fanned across the ships in the harbor, mouth running a mile a minute. "It's going to be a very long voyage," he said back to Aven, eyes fanning over the ships. "Do you remember what I showed you on the map the other night? We will sail south through Lake Halruaa and down the river that will lead to the bay along Chult, sailing around the peninsula and into the open ocean. Once there, it will be a straight shot to Aeliorn, save for Maztica of course but there is a channel we can use to-" Lucian suddenly stopped and scowled.

"What is it..?" Aven asked, grateful to be relieved of his lesson.

"Where the hell is our ship?! You'd think a boat full of screaming half-humans would be easier to find. Have you seen one called the Excelsior?"

"No... maybe we missed it? I didn’t realize I needed to be reading."

The pair walked twice along the length of the city's docks - and none of the ships matched up. Lucian stood and gawked at the water. "He actually left us."

"Surely he wouldn't," Aven murmured. "I mean... he needs us if he's going to Aeliorn, right?"

"Not if Ceril somehow got to him."

Aven's elbow nudged the Prince's shoulder. "You know he wouldn't. Maybe he just-"

Both of the men went quiet as a shadow passed overhead.

For a moment - they thought it to be a cloud that blocked out the sun... until they saw it. It was much too grand a ship to grace the surface of the water. With three tall masts cascading down sails of purple with the silver star pointed crest of the Silvercrest line and proper homage to the Mother of Magic. Rich wood built the shape of the ship, four wing-like plumes of heavy fabric extended out from each side and glistening silver with touches of magic. It sailed high above the other ships, airborne on the wind as if it weighed no more than a feather, itself. And atop its railing, a figure dressed for the occasion stood, with raven hair windswept back and royal robes draped across his frame, Marcello casted down a strong rope ladder enchanted with his arcane talent, the workings of a smug smile twisted on his lips.

Lucian's lip twitched into a scowl. "That bastard," he muttered as the ship passed overhead. The scowl didn’t meet the twinkle in the Prince’s eyes, grabbing hold of the arcane ladder and climbed, Aven behind.

He swung himself over the railing, eyes wide as he took everything in. Flocks of seagulls sailed beneath the ship's hull and men shouted orders and tied down ropes, preparing for the voyage west - Lucian's mindulgulph included, though they were more of a hindrance to the specialized sailors than a help. Mages conjured wind at their fingertips, sending gusts forth into the sails and lofted the ship upwards from Halruaa.

"Well?" Marcello strode towards them, a laugh disrupting his cocky smile. "What do you think?"

"I think it's in your typical fashion," Lucian chided. "Flamboyant and flaunting. Too good for sea travel?"

Marcello looked livelier than he had in some time. However, whether or not this was an act was to be seen. "Lucian, my dearest friend," he purred, clapping Lucian's shoulder. "The ocean is so very dangerous. Skyship travel is far superior. Besides, your uncle will never expect you to come by air."

That was true. If Aeliorn was to expect them, it was by boat. Lucian's blue gaze swept the ship. Icarus and Camlen were attached to the rope netting, the latter of the two leaning precariously over the edge grinning and pointing below towards the speck sized people disappearing from sight as the ship lifted higher into the air.

"It is impressive," Lucian admitted. "Where is your elf?"

Marcello bit down on his lip. "Hiding below deck, I imagine."

"Not the most social creature, is he."

"Can you blame him?" Marcello huffed. “Come. Allow me to give you a tour. Welcome aboard the Excelsior, your majesty.”

Marcello clearly had spared no expense when it came to designing the magnificent Skyship. It was, in all accounts, a palace in the sky. With sweeping halls and chambers, it was lavished with comfortable furniture and decor from home, from paintings to intricate statues that lined every room. All of its notable passengers possessed a bedchamber for themselves, and ate at a magnificent dining room with bountiful food - cooked by Marcello’s finest chefs, snatched from the Halruaan palace.

The tension that had once hung in the air had been expelled, replaced instead by childlike wonder as they roamed the upper deck. Aven clung to the ropes, one foot twisted into the netting and the other propped up onto the edge of the deck as he stared out across not sloshing seas, but great fluffy clouds that rolled by.

A cry caught his attention, twisting his head and he grinned passed the dark curls that fell into his eyes. High up in the air, a flock of albatross flew beside the ship, several of them looking over bewildered at the ship cutting through the sky. A laugh tumbled from Aven’s lips, and he lifted his hand to trail his fingers through a passing cloud.

“You’d think you could just fall into them and sleep, couldn’t you?”

Lucian drew next to Aven, a cloak wrapped around his pale arms as he bared himself against the chill of the air. “Fluffier than even your pile of blankets back in Aeliorn,” Aven remarked. “But it’s wet... cold.”

“A shame. I suppose we’ll simply have to make do with our beds.” Lucian leaned to the railing.

Aven studied him for a long while. The Prince's icy blue eyes held a brightness in them, something that ignited inside the boy like a flame being lit after so long in the dark. Hope. The man's gaze softened, and he turned to follow Lucian's gaze across the endless expanse. "It's an honor to be at your side, Lucian Arceneaux."

Lucian exhaled in a breath. "...I couldn't have made it this far without you," he admits. "Thank you."

"Never thank me." Aven glanced over. "...what is your plan? Regarding your Uncle, and his men."

"I assume you mean once we land in Aeliorn."

Aven nodded.

A sudden coldness overtook the passing warmth that had lit up his face. "My uncle will be executed for treason," Lucian said. "As well as those who have aligned with him."

"And those who surrender?"

"They will swear fealty to me. They will never again possess the power and prestige my uncle granted them, but they will survive."

"And if they don't?"

"Then they will die." Lucian's fingers gripped the wooden railing. "...my hatred claws at my conscience, to simply kill them all. But I will not rule as my uncle does. I will be different."

Aven's lips were soft as feathers as they brushed against Lucian's lips. "You're allowed to be angry," he said. "Channel it into every bastard you have the pleasure of killing."

Lucian grimaced. "...my father," he said. "Once said that as a King, we must be cautious of our anger. That holding on to it... it is like drinking poison, and expecting another to die."

“Your father was a wise man.”

“He was.”

For a moment - Aven thought he saw a glimmer in Lucian's eyes as he leaned his face in close. But any touch they might have made was disrupted. "Lucian, Aven!" Camlen and Icarus approached, each breathless and grinning, eyes wide and youthful. "Have you ever been on a skyship before?" Icarus huffed. It was immediately apparent they'd been running about exploring the ship like a pair of children.

"Once," Lucian said. "My father and I took a skyship to visit the western provinces, when we were short on time."

"I remember that!" Icarus said. "And you, Aven?"

Aven snorted. "Never had the chance while in the arena, I suppose. Have to say, it's better than riding a flaming horse through hell." He grinned. "Are you two enjoying yourselves?"

"You wouldn't believe how massive the ship is!" Icarus beamed, arms animated as he tried to mimic the size of the skyship. "There's levels upon levels, a dining hall, a sparring room for melee and mages, a menagerie for the animals, a pool - it's like a flying palace!" "

“Marcello is a very lavish traveler, so I've found," Aven smirked. "Lucian is the same way. He feels the need to conjure an entire cabin whenever we've got to rest.

"Don't you dare compare me to him," Lucian said shortly. "Come, let's find some dinner. I'm starved."

The food was divine. Typical of the five star chefs that Marcello had employed to work upon the skyship. It was even enough to bring peace between the rambunctious Mindulgulph and the exasperated Halruaan troops. Laughter rang out over the deck as they played blackjack and dice.

Everyone was enjoying themselves. The calm before the storm, Aven noted as he watched all his friends. Even Lucian seemed to be enjoying himself, sharing a glass of wine with Icarus as they played a game of twenty questions, laughing with alcohol sloshing over the rim.

“Much better than sailing, don’t you think?”

Aven turned.

Marcello leaned against the railing, book in hand as he smiled at the man knowingly. “It’s impressive,” Aven admitted, approaching. “Definitely the most luxurious ship I’ve been on.”

“Of course. It’s of Halruaan make. Everything produced in my country is lavish.”

“Naturally,” Aven purred. “What are you reading?”

Marcello arched a brow. “Are you trying to bond with me, Kheistan?”

“I figured we need more moments to get to know one another that doesn’t involve political bullshit and the planes of hell,” Aven said, leaning beside the Netyarch. “Read it to me. What’s it called?”

“The Tao of Earth.”

“The Tao of-” Aven cocked his head. “What’s it about?”

“Aven...” Marcello pursed his lips. “I appreciate the gesture but... I don’t think you’ll find this book to be of much interest.”

“What?” Aven challenged. “Because there’s no pictures? I’m no dumb brute.”

“No, I simply-” Marcello drew an exasperated sigh. “Very well... it’s about the philosophical musings of the importance of creation and stability over destruction and change. It is written in the Thorass dialogue by a Netherese philosopher with many long-winded philosophical tangents."

Aven stared. “...oh.”

A slow grin cut across Marcello’s features. “What? Not interested? I thought you were no dumb brute.”

“No! I- I just-”

“Well, you insisted, so you shall receive.” Marcello was thoroughly enjoying himself now as he gestured for Aven to get comfortable. “And don’t worry, Aven. There’s three sequels, as well. Shall we begin?”

To say it was torture would be an understatement. Aven didn’t even last fifteen minutes before he pushed himself up. “Nevermind, I’m a dumb brute, I guess. I’m done. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Marcello laughed. His eyes twinkled in the night. “You’re a man of action. It’s all right to not have the patience to suffer through the philosophies of dead men long before our era. They speak of ideas birthed in ancient pasts, where you focus on the present. There’s no shame in it. Besides.” Marcello glanced over, where Lucian’s doe eyes watched Aven from across the deck. “I believe your present is currently pining over you.”

Marcello could see the way Aven’s face lit up, the smile that bloomed as he immediately closed the distance, arms roped around his Prince.

They truly were in love.

He never thought Lucian capable of it, to be perfectly honest. The cynical, selfish, ignorant boy he had been... was not the man he was now. Love had changed him. Marcello ignored the weary pang in his heart as he held his book to his chest, and descended into the ship to find some quiet to finish reading his book.

And it was in the bowels of the ship that he found the elf.

Brushing past one of the cargo holds, Marcello’s boots came to a screeching halt as he stared inside.

Stuffed with crates of supply, water, food and crafting materials, the elf cowered in the corner, knees pulled into his chest with his face buried into them, ears tilted downwards and flattened against his white hair. Marcello frowned, stepping over and around a box to meet him. "Rhaen..? Is everything all right?"

"Don't come near."

"Don't come near...?" Marcello froze in his tracks. "Why? What's wrong?"

Rhaen turned a pathetic look up to Marcello, and promptly vomited across the deck floor. "Ships on the water are bad enough," he grunted, lifting the back of his hand to dab at his lip. "Ships in the air are a nightmare."

"...Mystra almighty." Marcello ignored the drow's warning as he lowered to his knees on the cleaner side of the floor. "Come here. If you were sea sick, you should have told me."

"And what could you possibly do?" Rhaen groaned with a hiccup. A bucket of smelly slosh was beside him. "Careful not to get your trousers dirty, my lord."

"Nonsense." Marcello took Rhaen's hand and pulled him away from the filth. "Is it the heights or the movements?"

"...the motion." The rocking, the... everything. In Dambrath, I never had many opportunities to be on a ship, let alone one in the air. It's vast, with horses and fields."

"Then I believe I may have a remedy." Before Rhaen could protest, Marcello tore the drow close and up against his chest. Arcane utterings fell from his lips and from beneath the two, as they sat on the dusty ground on their knees, a green light glowed from underneath. A sigil, running across the splits in wood, making Rhaen’s jade eyes glow a vermillion hue as they widen. Even as Marcello cast, the elf’s sharp eyes could see cords of black running through Marcello’s veins - but he did not flinch.

All at once, he seemed to steady. The churning of his stomach fell still, the ship itself seemed to glide through the air without so much of a bounce. He looked at Marcello. "What did you do?"

"It's called Mountain Stance," Marcello hummed. "A spell that allows one to simply... ground themselves."

“You helped me.”

“I helped you.”

“It hurt you.”

“At this point, simply drawing breath hurts me.”

Rhaen’s eyes searched Marcello. “...my head is still swimming. But it’s mostly gone away. Thank you.”

“Good. And there’s no need to thank me. You’re a guest on my ship... it’s only natural I see you’re taken care of.” At last, he finally wrinkled his nose, gaze dipping down to the stains on Rhaen’s shirt. “Now why don’t we get you changed into something... cleaner.”

Somehow, the night was even more beautiful in the sky than it was at sea. The pale crescent moon was a silver claw in the sky, a blanket of stars swallowing the ship whole as it sailed through the night. Stillness and quiet. There was no spray of the sea in his face, or the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Only the cool brush of wind as it blew back twisted locks of tawny brown hair that tangled against his ears.

So much was going to change. It seemed only yesterday they were leaving Aeliorn in chains, with not a single coin to their name. Now, they were returning with an army at their backs. It was almost too much to digest.

“Have you seen Marcello anywhere?”

Aven glanced back as Lucian approached. A silk robe flowed down to his feet. “The last I saw him, he was with Rhaen.”

Lucian scoffed and drew to Aven’s side.

“Do you not approve?”

“No. I don’t. He should stay away from the elf.”

Aven bit down on his lip. “If Marcello believes he can be trusted, then we should trust that.”

“It is Marcello’s judgement that I find lacking.”

Aven’s brows furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard of trauma bonding, Aven.”

“Trauma... bonding?”

Lucian nodded. “It’s when two people bond over something traumatic and it feeds the relationship in an unhealthy and at times abusive relationship.”

“You’re losing me. What does this have to do with Marcello and Rhaen?”

Lucian folded his arms. “Rhaenoran murdered Theseus Silvercrest. Marcello’s brother... you did not see them in their youth, Aven. They were the best of friends. Nothing could separate them. Marcello should have been furious with him. Should have cast him down where he stood, and yet he didn’t. Why?”

“Perhaps because he’s a man of virtue and doesn’t see the need to kill without cause?”

Lucian shook his head. “There was cause. Marcello has killed for less. He did it because Rhaenoran is a tie to Theseus. A tether to a shared past. A shared trauma that they both endure.”

Aven hesitated. “So you believe... the reason why Marcello is so taken with Rhaen, why he spends so much time with him... is because he killed Theseus?”

“That’s right.”

Aven wrinkled his nose. “I’m not so sure. Marcello is a bit more sound of mind, than that.”

“Is he?” Lucian’s eyes shot over. “Do you remember what happened in the cave? In Carcerai?”

“...that was different. The grief was still fresh.”

“Wounds do not simply fade overtime. The pang simply strikes less often. Fresh or not, Marcello’s will is splintering. And this damned curse he’s under is of no help. They’re not healthy for one another.”

Aven’s gaze swept Lucian. “You worry for him.”

“Of course I do. Marcello is like a brother to me.”

“I thought he was a wretched, intolerable snake.”

“Oh, he is. But he’s also my closest confidant. One who sacrifices too much of himself for others.” He glanced over idly. “Like someone else I know. A shame I have to love such idiots.”

A grin slowly drew over Aven’s lips. “And yet an idiot you love regardless.”

“A pity.”

“Don’t worry for Marcello. He’ll get through this. He always has.”

“You’ve so much faith in others.” Lucian leaned his slender arms to the railing. His eyes were half lidded, his icy gaze fanning over the endless expanse of stars. The wind ripped his robes and hair about and with a breath, drew a strand of blonde behind his ear. “...and that’s why I need you. Hopeful. Inspiring. As my friend, my lover... my captain.”

It was at ‘captain,’ that he lost Aven. The man cocked his head. Aven blinked. "Captain?"

Lucian reached over, fixing the edge of Aven’s collar that had flipped up. "Captain Kheistan."

“You’re making me a captain..? Why?”

“What do you mean why? You need to have at least a caliber of jurisdiction if you're to help me lead my men." He pulled a metal pin from his pocket - two swords crossed over a golden circle before a sunburst emblem imprinted into the metal. He attached it to Aven's shoulder. “I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”

“Do you even have the authority to make me captain, o’exiled Prince?” Aven snorted, looking down to admire the gold that glittered on his coat. He seemed to slowly digest the weight of it.

“One of the few benefits of being banished means I can then act outside the law. You’re my Captain, the world be damned.”

Aven stared down at the metal pin that gleamed upon his chest. The gold lining caught the silver of the moon, making it flare in a platinum sheen of sparkles. His fingers rose to brush over the metal, a thumb following the spiked curve of the burst. “Everything’s changed.”

“I know. Only several months ago, you were a slave to my will. And now...” Cold, slender fingers fanned across Aven’s cheek. “Now... my captain. My defender. My shield.”

Aven’s warm fingers left the pin and folded over Lucian’s, lifting them to his lips to place a kiss. Delicate. “It’s the greatest honor.”

“The honor is mine, Captain.” Lucian ascended on his tip toes, gracing his lips to Aven’s. “Now come... the nights are longer with the coming of winter, and it’s cold. Let’s go below.”