Poise and Rationality || 1x1

[Baelixx]

The three other royals listen in quiet reverence as he shared such intimate details about his family. At mention of Major and Magor working together, King Varian shifts a little in his seat. The dragon king's thoughts wander back to the conversation he had shared with the young prince in his office, and it is evident the older man is uncomfortable from the idea of what could happen to his people. Of what had already happened to many people. The terrors and atrocities. Queen Jaina places a palm on his knee, and they exchange a quiet look as words are exchanged between their minds. Comfort and hopeful.

Aella's own expression softens at the mention of Dean, the youngest brother and the only one she had yet to meet. The one Rith had been so concerned about despite his very young age. Her heart goes out to him, to all of the responsibilities he has had to bear for so long. His anxieties and every unfair expectation.

But it is when he talks about the rebuking and the beheaded man that goosebumps raise on her arms, and it wasn't just because of the wind rattling the windows. No. It was because in an instant her mind flashes back to the story he had told her in that magnificent cave of gemstones, like starlight and magic brought to life. That story about four queens and a king, rebuking, lavender sails, and twisting storms of green and grey.

Those blue gold eyes narrow at first as her mind reels, racing over the recollection of details. Of the queen and her people, of the healing and then the punishment. And then those eyes widen as Aella stares at Rith, her expression a dichotomous concoction of bewilderment and comprehension. He had said it was just a story about his kingdom's history...

She is mentally chastising herself for being so entirely clueless as it clicks into place for her and Aella can't help but lean closer to him, shaking her head wildly. "It is your history!" Aella practically shouts. He had said not on his lands, that he couldn't speak of whatever blight had been placed upon him.

"Aella!" Her mother chides, surprised by the outburst and apparent lack of control.

The princess holds up her hand, a gesture of waving off the scolding as her gaze searched Rith and she speaks. "The lavender sails, Rith." The young draconian states. "I get it now. I'm sorry I was so clueless, but I get it now." Those eyes search over his features, and she feels a bit ashamed for not piecing it together sooner. "Is... Is that what made you different? To take on new forms and and that blinding light?"

[Alpha*]

He flinches, ignoring the pulse of pain through his body, at the sudden movements that he - along with the shout - had been expecting, it's so engraved into every fiber of him that he can't stop it. But Aella wouldn't hurt him; and he schools his rattled nerves. She's asking questions and he nods, "indeed, " Is nodded slowly, wishing for something to do with his hands. Anything to do that would distract him from the frozen sear which would surely pierce him - "it is, at least... in part." Rith exhales slowly, "allow me to finish, then I will answer questions, my lady."

That should be simpler.

The prince had set the spoon down, "my father commanded the mans' body be left in the summer courtyard.. at least for a while, his head was returned to the ship in a black bag we call a 'pari' it was considered a great dishonor. There was a great storm that arose that night, it fealt like the stone of the castle may crumble and devour us. Those who my father pays to serve, well, some fled. The sky was green and there was great winds, lightning, even the earth shook." He wonders if it's too late to stop, it probably is, "in the morning my father sent a regime of soldiers to the bay... for once he went himself, I wasn't... permitted to attend. " The prince remembers how he'd gasped as his father killed the messenger, and the other punishment ---

Rith continues, trying to keep out of his head, "he came to the bay but the harbor master said that the ship just disappeared. Magor was angry, he sent his armies in every direction, to peaceful kingdoms and countries that had survived before, and those things done-" does he even have words for them? Does he want to scar them the way he is? Break them ?? No. "He sent people to search, spent vast amounts of riches to try to cajole information concerning those who had supposedly threatened Apinumera.. he found nothing. None of them did. "

Now comes the painful part. "I was seven, my first battle. I rarely was allowed more than a week in my... home.. when I was thirteen I was sent to the ocean of sand and fire. Do you know of it? " us asked rhetorically, "where the sun sleeps only a few hours and rain only falls twice a year.. with sands that swallow entire companies of men and their horses -" and hadn't he seen it? Tried to stop it? Hadn't he --

He blinks back at the memories, willing his eyes to remain dry and his throat to unconstrict. Rith gathers a handful of his shirt, knuckles white and he takes a steadying drink of the laperi as if the heat would make things easier. "There are a people there who call themselves wanderers; they are called by those who don't live like them the Karu. They gave another word which they use." His mouth quirks in a tiny smile - how he had thought many times of disappearing into the desert to live, or die, as they do. (Though he hates the sand...) "They care not for gold or jewels and titles, only for water and food and scarce things. Theirs is a hard life, but a free one. " Is it jealousy that colors his tone, or admiration ? "Karu trade for what they need, or they go without.. my father hated them. Still does." Sighs the prince, "I admire them." How he had loved the heat! Their stories at night, how they'd all known their place, their role in the tribes, in the desert- "He sent me, and an army there, had us... try to fight them. All we fought for six months was sand and heat and dehydration. " a wry smirk, "one day the Karu sent envoys, they'd decided amongst themselves that we needed help, they lead us into the desert. " He exhales, "my father sent Makor to make sure I didn't mess up. My uncle started fighting the peaceful people, and when he left there were few left of them. And us. We stayed to try to salvage them... but it wasn't enough. " a muscle in his cheek jumps, "fifteen tribes were a mere handful."

He doesn't note that his hand aches, "I went home, with stores of red stones that the Karu traded with. My father was angry, sent me to a forest people, this time I didn't fight his orders. It started to rain again, heavily, with thunder and lights. We had had a battle, and my men were exhausted. We had a simple dinner and went to bed. "

He'd been a child; a mere thirteen years old. A child --