[ it did not need to be stated, alhaitham thinks, something as obvious as this. kaveh is like a pacing riboshland tiger. he has regained his strength, and his fury, and suddenly, even the vast expanse of alhaitham's personal room seems too small of a place to hold him. it will, however. even unchained, there is nowhere kaveh can go. even in his unbridled rage, kaveh is no fool; he wouldn't put the safety of his countrymen on trial to go gallivanting without a plan. there is no place for kaveh except for here, in alhaitham's room. that's what separates kaveh from the rest of the salve entourage, because he has a use, a role that only he can fulfill.
it is, in fact, discrimination. to think that all people are made equal and can be equal is folly, when it is acknowledge their individual strengths, abilities and shortcomings that allows you to see clearly who and what they are. ]
My condolences, that being here means you are fed and unchained. Still, it does not change reality: you are here. There is nowhere else you can be. You have not entered another dimension; reality has not warped between yesterday and today. This is your reality, Kaveh. You will do well to accept it.
[ and then, in the same, bloodless tone: ] Choose a divan. You will sleep on it.
[ he won't. not today, not tomorrow. and if he comes to at least acknowledge it, he will fight against it. if this is his reality, he doesn't want to be part of it. he will sleep, he will dream of a better world. of home, with his father, and mother, his people. he will sleep, and it'll be warm again.
this is all just — a nightmare. a bad, terrible dream. the war had been getting to him, maybe. the endless strife between vissudha and lokapala over avidya, the inability of pretending they hadn't had their men and women captured, murdered. his reality had always been a perfect fantasy land of peace and joy.
it's fine if he pretends. it'd be better than accept this pain. the weight of his guilt that maybe, if he weren't here, at least one of his people would replace him. they'd have food, they wouldn't be in chains. it's a bold thought, but it haunts him nonetheless. ]
That one. [ kaveh jerks his head towards the divan furthest from alhaitham's bed. at least, if anything were to happen and alhaitham dared approach him in the middle of the night, he'd have a chance to wake up and defend himself, fight back, just — keep his eyes on alhaitham. he'd be a fool not to. ]
[ the divan, which alhaitham had moved furthest from his bed. it sits next to a view of the courtyard below and out into the green of the blossoming rainforest for a reason. alhaitham doesn't look up from his book. ]
A fine choice.
[ the silver bell rings. servants enter once more, and slaves follow to bear away the mostly-empty platters. a young woman with red hair and slave trappings rolls up the dinner rug and works together with two other slaves to carry it out of the door, where it will be washed before being utilised once more tomorrow. alhaitham directs two servants to leave kaveh's sleeping clothes on kaveh's chosen divan. they leave behind two modest silk skiffs, both made in the traditional blacks and greens of the vissudhan lands, hemmed in blood red and golden strands. a hairbrush, a set of towels, a jewelry stand, on which hands a single pair of earrings - the earrings that had been taken from kaveh's nightstand at the palace of alcazarzaray.
the servants and slaves leave. alhaitham, finally, shuts his book. ]
I will take a bath in the adjoining room. Do as you wish.
[ all the while, kaveh watches. the red of his eyes always tend to fall on the cuffs, and without fail, melancholy rises to his face. they do not need to be blood of his blood for him to feel anguished over them. no matter which nation they hail from, which kingdom they belong to, it is not a sight he is used to, not a sight he enjoys.
the only time he breaks contact with them is when they set down the jewelry stand, and there, he finds old gifts he could have sworn he would never see again. the same pair of earrings his parents had gifted him in his coming of age celebration.
how? why? surely they should have been sold. surely the eremites would have made at least a good amount of mora if those ended in the market. when kaveh inspects them up close, there's no mistaking it. these aren't replicas.
[ alhaitham pauses at the threshold to his adjoining bathroom. the palace hadn't meant for there to be a bath on this floor. it had been a recent renovation, a request from the crown prince of vissudha for his personal use. the marble is new. the threshold's door is carved with a contemporary style of working marble. it is, despite the artisan's best efforts, incongruent with the sure, steady hands of pir kavekavus.
he turns back from it. kaveh is gesturing at the jewelry stand and its sole occupant.
oh, that. ]
An eremite pilfered it from your room. She had sold it to a fence. The household paid 1.3 million mora to buy it.
[ 1.3 million. it's not surprising to hear the number, but it's— so much money for a pair of earrings. if it had belonged to anyone else, he knows, the value would have decreased far, far more. he stares at alhaitham the same way as he always does: trying to find the lie, the joke, the punchline. neither of those come. ]
Why are you giving them back to me? It— It makes no sense.
[ what's he supposed to make of that statement? yes, of course they belong to him. that's why they had been stolen, that's why they had been sold for so much mora. what's the point of returning them to him? to ease the walls around his heart and make his opinion on alhaitham better?
that would never happen.
it wouldn't, but kaveh can't shake off the relief, and the weird feeling of... gratitude, maybe. he takes them in his hands, so careful as though they'd break upon touch, and sits on the divan to admire them. not a scratch, nothing broken. a frozen moment in time. they'd have looked exactly the same on his nightstand, back in alcazarzaray. they'd have felt the exact same on his hand, and that alone pains him. a reminder of better times.
being alone with his own thoughts hadn't done him any good so far, but he clings to the one untouchable, unshakable thing about his past. not everything has to change. ]
[ alhaitham finishes his evening ablutions in peace. the baths are a little too opulent for his tastes. cool water to rinse himself off, a quick soak in the warmth of the several waterfall basins built into the marble, the hot water in perpetual flow, and then he's drying himself off before any more of his evening's time is wasted. the day has been long. it is also the beginning of many long days to come. the night will be an interlude, not a reprieve.
he's using the ends of the towel to tweeze out the last bit of moisture from the ends of his hair as he emerges, draped loosely with a robe the colour of a pre-dawn night. kaveh's existence is like a footnote. his gaze slides off him as he takes a seat on his own bed, shuffling the last of the golden chains off of it as it they were particularly expensive nuisances.
kaveh doesn't seem like he's about to rise. alhaitham rubs his towel over his head, and, without looking up- ]
[ against his best wishes, he watches alhaitham as he emerges from the bathroom, vermillion eyes watching carefully as he strides towards his bed. still nothing. no attention, no touching. not that he had expected it, at this point — but still, what's the point, then? it worsens everything.
kaveh won't say he almost wishes there was at least something, but — ]
Huh?
[ this, too, he should have expected. there was food, there were no bindings, there's even his own sleeping space (a divan of all things, but in a way, his). most importantly, there's his earrings again, safe on his palms. of course, to add it on top, he'd be able to bathe. by himself, without other people manhandling him.
still. he can't help but be suspicious, every time. why shouldn't he? ]
My turn to what? [ just in case he's misunderstanding it. he'd have to be, right? ]
[ kaveh observes him like alhaitham is going to turn around and bite him. he doesn't blame him. it's only expected, given the situation. the irony comes from the objective fact that it had been kaveh a single insult away from biting alhaitham's head off not a scant thirty minutes ago, like a cat facing off in uncertain territory. alhaitham looks up, and notes that kaveh hasn't moved from his position on the divan. he surmises that he had been looking at his earrings.
it hadn't been difficult, to track them down. the eremites took whatever they liked from the palace of alcazarzaray - a stipulation of azar's that gave the desert tribes just enough appropriate incentive to join forces - but the war-scribes kept impeccable records of everything that was taken. jewelry is generally difficult to document, but items of enough significance tends to attract attention. the household has a list of two hundred and ninety seven items that alhaitham has put personal notice on, but it will take time before each one is tracked down, purchased, logged, itemised and returned. alhaitham will not have time until he has completed what he has set out to do. but the earrings - those were a simple matter. kaveh of lokapala's coming of age celebration was widely lauded for its artistry, symbolism and beauty. everyone knew the cut, colour and make of those earrings. alhaitham did, too.
it's not difficult to imagine what kaveh had been thinking, looking at them.
alhaitham lets his towel drop down next to him. ]
Take a bath. [ is what he says. ] Lokapalans are aware of such practices, are they not? And they call us Vissudhans backwards in design. Or is it that you've never bathed without a servant to help you with the process?
I don't want to hear that from someone who sees fit to own slaves.
[ there's venom on his tongue, and whatever nostalgia clouds his heart is so quickly replaced with that same familiar rage. kaveh does not think twice before he rises, taunt successful, taking with him the clean robes and dry towels the servants had brought, alongside his earrings. no matter what happens, he refuses to take his eyes off of them. he storms to the bathroom, and kaveh being kaveh, he's loud even when he shuts the door behind him.
it takes him a long, long time to bathe.
the first half is spent thinking. he has had several moments by himself, him and his thoughts. almost the entire day, from morning to evening, when alhaitham went to bathe himself, and now. he does not strip just yet, and allows fatigue to catch up to him. mental, emotional fatigue. in his intricate mind, his memories are put together like a jigsaw puzzle.
his mother had been away on a trip to fontaine to visit a friend, ever so clueless of what would befall lokapala in her absence. he thinks by now, surely someone would've sent her a missive, and his heart sinks with worry. her people murdered or enslaved. her only son claimed by the enemy kingdom. her husband—
murdered, too. the news were delivered to him by the eremites, spoken between casual conversation. their voices ring in his ears as though they are people who stand right next to him once again: what of the king?, dead, with barely a struggle. not that he could have done anything, eight against one. fool that he is doesn't even keep guards around. one of us could've handled him easily.
that same day, kaveh had told his father's personal guards to leave their post if only for a night. brothers, he remembers them, one recently turned father. they were loyal, committed to their duty, eager to serve. kaveh had told them to celebrate the birth of a new life, a new addition to their family. a person's happiest memory will always be of their home, and a child should have the company of their mother and father. they insisted to stay. kaveh retorted that one night would do no one any harm.
what a fool he had been. he has never been one to be blessed with good luck, but this he does not blame on whatever god is responsible for a person's fortune or misfortune. alone with his thoughts, he had constantly blamed no one but himself. would the raid have gone differently, had he not said anything? would the guards have been able to defend their king? their prince? their people? would he be at home now, back in a kingdom stained red, but a place he belongs? is he the one meant to carry the sorrow and guilt of all the lives lost?
would he let anyone else carry his burden? of course not.
drowning in his own melancholy, the other half of his bath is spent under cold water. most of it is used to rinse his mouth, over and over and over, but it never feels truly clean. kaveh rubs and scrubs at his skin time and time again, and that, too, doesn't wash away the filth. only when it's red and hurt and burning under the touch, is when he considers his bathing to be over.
it had been forty minutes since the bathroom door had been closed, and he emerges from it without a word. he does not offer a look at alhaitham either, instead finding his way to the divan again, where he seats himself with a towel over his head. the scenery is, at the very least, beautiful to look at. he'll be admiring it for most of the night. ]
Edited (sorry for my unproofread fanfic. it WILL happen again.) Date: 2023-04-12 11:36 pm (UTC)
[ the goad moves kaveh the way a puppet would be tugged by the strings of a puppetmaster. a jerk in the right direction, and the puppet goes, stumbling, across a poorly-worked stage. alhaitham watches him go. the solid oak of the door slams shut. the sounds abate. he returns to dressing himself. he pulls on his nightdress, and tosses his discarded night robe over the back of a chair for a servant to collect. he has his book. the room is lit in shadows from the torchlight sconces; it is enough to read by, though he does not need his eyes to read this specific book. alhaitham knows the welts and frayed corners with his touch alone, he can recall the words in their slanted handwriting well-worn with time and love with his eyes closed. he can see etched into the backs of his eyelids the quirked notation and footnotes added in over the years, first by an uncertain hand, and then next by steadier, uniform, slanted hand-writing. he remembers, he remembers, he remembers.
luck had nothing to do with her death, he knows. old age was a sort of fortune, when you live in his world. it means that you've lived long enough to outlive most of your enemies, but not all. it had been the same for his parents. it will be the same for him, though he knows that he sees far more clearly through the darkness than they ever had. he had the eyes for it. the vultur volans, they say, is brightest of the night constellations. the beak of the eagle sits altair. in its triangle sits alshain and tarazed, the heralds of balance. an eagles wings, when spread, carries with it the weight of the world above and the balance of the world below. only with the keenness of its sight can it see through the darkness, and alhaitham has the eyes for it. he always had. it means the world has never seemed darker for it - the world, instead, has always been bright enough to lay before his feet its tragedies.
only in the dark can you not discern the colour of blood.
there are preparations to be made. he will make them come morning, when the sun rises and the world begins to awake to a continuation of its reality: a world where lokapala no longer exists, annexed into the folds of a nation-state so vicious that its name has become synonymous with bloodshed. avidya will send their envoys. ashavan may do so too, if they have any they could spare; all of them would be competing poets by morning, each coming up with a verse more scathing or more tragic than the last. politics always came later, when it comes to the dreamworld's ashavan and their philosophers. fontaine and liyue would undoubtedly ask after the status of their embassies. the world order will change, shift like chess pieces on sand, and then, as always, it will settle. and what comes from it will be as solid as stone.
pir kavekavus had been a master stonemason. there were people like that, to whom stone is simply another material to be molded.
kaveh returns. forty minutes later, he is wrapped in his bathrobe and wrapped in his thoughts. they come with him like the uncertain trail of feathers, curled vines from a tender forest jungle or the nettles of a spring harvest. he does not, alhaitham notes, look at alhaitham. of course he would not. the night stretches out far like this, outside of that sole window. alhaitham allows it. kaveh has been fed, and watered, and bathed. he has his earrings. he has his fury and his hope and his despairing reality. he has everything that alhaitham knows how to place within his reach. tomorrow, alhaitham will reteach him again the things that he loses in the night, but that is for tomorrow. ]
Sleep. [ is what alhaitham says instead from the foot of his bed. he rises, and one by one, begins to douse the torchlight. ]
the room goes dark, and kaveh, sweet, special kaveh, son of the sun, is illuminated by the moonlight, as though claimed by it. the stars weep in sorrow for the loss of their kin, but the moon, star that it is not, still shines with hope in the evening sky. kaveh's own light hasn't been extinguished yet. there is hope. there is always, always hope, if one knows where to seek for it. if one knows to fight.
kaveh does not sleep. from the divan, he stares into the outside, a bird in a cage. here, he thinks, the night is calming. just a day ago, night had been too bright, scorched by the fire. ever so loud, disrupted by violence. here, he finds none of that. it is gentle, and it is calming, and it almost convinces kaveh that it is fine to lay, and close his eyes, and rest.
he had thought so before, too.
kaveh sleeps, eventually. when the sun rises behind the tall mountains of vissudha, it tells kaveh, i will keep you safe. when yellow meets gold, and the sun takes over the flame in kaveh's eyes, he finds will to give in to his fatigue, but he does not move. does not fit neatly under the blankets, does not lay his head on the pillow.
he stays, here he is. hugging his legs, seeking their comfort. he rests his head on his knees, and only then, without the comfort of a better sleep, he allows his body to rest.
not for long, he knows, but at the very least, it'll give him the comfort of not being alone with his own thoughts. ]
[ morning comes. the sun rises. time passes. and what kaveh will thusly wake up to is this: a fresh change of clothes on a little pedestal by his divan, fit to his size and carefully embroidered in the colours of black and green, save for the blood-red needlework along the inside of its seams. new toiletries, pale silver bangles fit for thin wrists, a silk bathrobe faint with the scent of fresh silkflowers, a comb carefully carved and inlaid with mother of pearl.
a dark, woven blanket draped over his back, curved like the tail of a long, ancient beast.
at noon, a servant comes in her swaying skirts and brings in a profusely blooming bouquet. sumeru roses flower alongside of the gentle sway of padisarahs. not true padisarahs, never true ones. not since the last ones along the hills of vissudha river faded, never to return, never to the land where it is said the goddess of flower shed her last tear. the card reads thusly: long may the eagle's eyes adjudge.
alhaitham doesn't return. not on the first day, not on the second. the third day, music fills the halls, loud enough to permeate even the deepest of rooms. zithers and sitars, the pattering footfalls of light-spun dancers. gentle laughter and the wafting smell of food. kaveh gets his. dinner rug by dinner rug, day by day, savoury curries and herb-like stews and little paper-thin layered desserts topped with dried green ajilenakh nuts. on the third day, there's a portion of a sumpterbeast turducken, layered with crocodile, and deer, and avidyan peacock, and rabbit, all wrapped up in one another in carefully designed layers. it is, in fact, a significantly proper cut of meat.
it's not until the evening of the fourth day, long after the quiet servant in her swaying dress had come and gone to leave kaveh with a sketchpad and charcoal - drafting paper woven from the toughest fibers of lotus stems; charcoal ever-burnt from the sprouts of adhigama trees - that alhaitham re-emerges from the depths of the palace. the steel of his gaze glances past kaveh as if he were decoration. it lingers upon the bouquet, still-blooming, just a little less profusely, and ignoring it, lets the door fall behind him before his shoulders shift. his cloak is discarded half-way across the floor as he steps to his bed. his face meets its covers, and he is still.
god would have at least made it to day seven, but alhaitham is no god after all. ]
at first, he had not questioned his waking to be so quiet. kaveh did not sleep soundly, plagued by nightmares as he had been, but he slept, and was not roused. the room is empty, he figures, because alhaitham is crown prince, and he has duties and responsibilities. kaveh had been the same way once.
on the first day, his thoughts are nicer to him. it is not as excruciating to be by himself, and he doesn't hate the quiet. the clothes, he rejects them until he's uncomfortable in his own filth, and finds that greens do not suit him nearly as well as lokapala's whites do. he spends the night reminiscing over it. the bouquet goes completely ignored.
on the following days, when alhaitham doesn't return, the weight of his thoughts are heavier. he overthinks, overassumes, makes up impossible scenarios that didn't feel so impossible anymore. alhaitham is making plans to sell him again. alhaitham is having meetings to find all the lokapalans that weren't in the kingdom at the time of the raid. alhaitham is torturing the other slaves. alhaitham, alhaitham, alhaitham.
he has nightmares on the third day, and forces himself to eat that night as well.
on the fourth day, the sketchpad had been appreciated, and it's the first time he feels gratitude since his capture. it's a moment too late, but better than nothing. here, he then wonders, someone surely must be requesting such things of the slaves and servants. alhaitham isn't dead, of course not. there had not been bells rung announcing the crown prince's passing, no mourning rituals. the idea that alhaitham has been thinking of kaveh is one that upsets his stomach, and he figures eating will be hard on the fourth day, too.
except it is on the fourth day that alhaitham returns, without a word, without a glance. kaveh is decoration. that much was obvious on day zero.
here, kaveh learns to despite the quiet.
he does not move from his divan (his, now, that he had spent enough time on to rid it of alhaitham's smell, only to be replaced by his own), but he sets the sketchpad and charcoal down, as though they are his, too, and not a commodity at all. ]
[ kaveh speaks. his voice rises in outrage. it's the most novel thing that alhaitham has heard in four days, so much so that he is compelled to turn his head to look at him. kaveh, in vissudha greens and blacks, putting down the sketchpad that alhaitham had asked the head servant to requisition from the engineers. he has been kept busy. he can't quite gauge how much kaveh has eaten, though given that the kitchens have not been a flurry of belts and whips, perhaps he had taken some of what alhaitham has said to heart. he still has energy to be angry. alhaitham supposes that that, if nothing else, is progress.
he is looking at him, and his eyes are terribly red. alhaitham suddenly feels terribly tired. ]
Tending to my duties. [ is what he says. speaking through half a cheek becomes tedious fairly quickly. it warps his words and strains his mouth. alhaitham flips onto his back after a beat, and breathes out. his head is still turned. ] I have those, you see. I may not be paid for it, but it is work nonetheless. [ and because kaveh expects it: ] Would you know what work is? What have you achieved these last for days, former prince of the Lokapalans?
[ the days spent in silence surrounded by his own thoughts had him almost forget that this is alhaitham, insufferable prince, and that talking to him without feeling that selfsame rage of days and days ago is nigh impossible.
kaveh's voice rises, and so does kaveh. on day four, he doesn't mind his distance, and stands by the foot of the bed. had his mind not been clouded by a red-hot anger, he'd almost have thought that looking down on alhaitham is a good look on him. ]
What could I possibly have achieved, locked in your room as I was? You've made me into decoration. You left without a word or warning. What was I to do for four days all by myself?!
[ kaveh's voice rises. kaveh stands at the foot of his bed, a golden toss of righteous fury. alhaitham looks at him with a tilt of his chin. four days alone had given him pent up energy. the lack of purpose has sunken in. alhaitham cannot sympathise, but he can, as he would, understand. he has put kaveh into this situation with deliberation. he now reaps the consequences.
alhaitham rolls his eyes. ]
Were you expecting me to stay behind and keep you company, Kaveh? Lounge about in sleepwear so that I can trade barbs with you, perhaps? I wasn't aware you had such an expectation. As an honoured guest, perhaps you can file a formal complaint. I'll receive it with grace.
[ and then, in the exact same tone: ] Your meeting with Elham is tomorrow night. You will be provided with directions. She cannot leave the slave quarters for long, but you will have an hour before she is missed. You may do with that time as you wish.
[ had he expected it? no, of course not. what does he even expect out of alhaitham, to begin with? they had told him one thing: he'd be alhaitham's bed slave. he had not, at any point, done anything of the kind. alhaitham hasn't touched him. alhaitham hasn't forced him to sleep on his bed. he hadn't even used his body to warm his bed, at best.
the lack of purpose is crushing. he doesn't hate the faux freedom, the way he's not, frankly, violated, but he hates not being able to do anything.
until alhaitham speaks, as always. it's the first time he's given a reason to do anything. ]
You weren't lying. [ he had genuinely though it'd be a lie. why would he not? ] Why? Answer me at least this one time. Why are you letting me meet up with her?
[ kaveh's tone rings of genuine surprise. alhaitham had expected as much. a part of earning trust is in increments. it will always, from an objective perspective, start from zero. surprise in this case is to be expected; kaveh hasn't believed a thing he's said since, and it's likely he will continue to disbelieve no matter what reality says. alhaitham doesn't owe him an explanation; he doesn't owe anybody anything, and hasn't in a very long time.
the bed is soft, and warm. the temptation to just close his eyes is very real. but the night is long, and he has a few things he needs to complete before then. alhaitham's gaze flips up to the ceiling in a gesture that reads that if the archons won't grant him patience, then allow them to at least grant him strength. ]
I have been providing answers to you. That you dislike them, disbelieve them or can't understand them is none of my concern. [ is what he says first. and then: ] Do you not wish to meet her?
[ unhelpful, as always. after enough times, kaveh will learn not to ask, but his innate curiosity would stop him no matter what. curiosity, and frustration, and sheer anger. he doesn't understand alhaitham, and how else would one come to understand another if they do not converse, and question, and learn from them?
would he come to understand alhaitham, one day? does he want to? ]
I do, but why? You've taken both of us as slaves. If anything, most people wouldn't let a captured prince meet with their people. You're aware I worry about her, so why are you being...
[ kaveh does not finish his sentence. alhaitham does not allow him to. ]
You worry about each and every one of your people. If I were arranging this meeting solely because of your penchant to worry, I would, by necessity, arrange meetings between you and each of your countrymen. Does that seem possible to you?
[ and what would that achieve, aside from keeping kaveh busy? as each individual is met with, the next one begs worry, and the one left behind as well. it would only compound his worries. his rage would burn into despair. as busywork goes, it is ineffective, and it achieves nothing - not on kaveh's part, not on alhaitham's part.
alhaitham shrugs. ]
Rather than guessing at my intentions or lack thereof, you should be taking time to think what you wish to say to her, and how to treat her. If there is anything you wish to pass to her, you will tell me now, so that I can arrange it in the morning.
[ the stubborn side of him says yes, it is possible alhaitham is crown prince, he has authority, and power, and he knows how to exert it. the wiser part of him knows that would be suicide. there would be people who would surely be suspicious of him. why allow a slave, former-prince, to meet with his people? what does that achieve? wouldn't it be dangerous?
the blood-red of his eyes stare at alhaitham, as though trying to uncover the secret in his words. kaveh always fails to do so. ]
Will we be alone?
[ the obvious answer would be no, but isn't alhaitham king in doing the unexpected? ]
[ his eyebrow quirks. ] Why would I go to the trouble of arranging a clandestine meeting between yourself and one of your countrymen, and have someone else there for it? If I suspected the two of you were capable of discussing anything of importance, I would not have arranged the meeting to begin with.
[ the truth of the matter is, what he needs is for the two to meet. anything that comes from it is beside the point. alhaitham knows kaveh. he knows the warmth of his empathy and the depth of his care. he would not put any of his countrymen in danger. it is, in fact, what is needed at this juncture.
this, he does not say. instead: ] Elham will keep the time. She is aware of the one hour time restriction. You will do well to remind her as well; I will not be responsible for the consequences should the two of you overstay.
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no subject
Date: 2023-04-11 11:45 pm (UTC)it is, in fact, discrimination. to think that all people are made equal and can be equal is folly, when it is acknowledge their individual strengths, abilities and shortcomings that allows you to see clearly who and what they are. ]
My condolences, that being here means you are fed and unchained. Still, it does not change reality: you are here. There is nowhere else you can be. You have not entered another dimension; reality has not warped between yesterday and today. This is your reality, Kaveh. You will do well to accept it.
[ and then, in the same, bloodless tone: ] Choose a divan. You will sleep on it.
no subject
Date: 2023-04-12 12:44 am (UTC)this is all just — a nightmare. a bad, terrible dream. the war had been getting to him, maybe. the endless strife between vissudha and lokapala over avidya, the inability of pretending they hadn't had their men and women captured, murdered. his reality had always been a perfect fantasy land of peace and joy.
it's fine if he pretends. it'd be better than accept this pain. the weight of his guilt that maybe, if he weren't here, at least one of his people would replace him. they'd have food, they wouldn't be in chains. it's a bold thought, but it haunts him nonetheless. ]
That one. [ kaveh jerks his head towards the divan furthest from alhaitham's bed. at least, if anything were to happen and alhaitham dared approach him in the middle of the night, he'd have a chance to wake up and defend himself, fight back, just — keep his eyes on alhaitham. he'd be a fool not to. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-04-12 01:08 am (UTC)A fine choice.
[ the silver bell rings. servants enter once more, and slaves follow to bear away the mostly-empty platters. a young woman with red hair and slave trappings rolls up the dinner rug and works together with two other slaves to carry it out of the door, where it will be washed before being utilised once more tomorrow. alhaitham directs two servants to leave kaveh's sleeping clothes on kaveh's chosen divan. they leave behind two modest silk skiffs, both made in the traditional blacks and greens of the vissudhan lands, hemmed in blood red and golden strands. a hairbrush, a set of towels, a jewelry stand, on which hands a single pair of earrings - the earrings that had been taken from kaveh's nightstand at the palace of alcazarzaray.
the servants and slaves leave. alhaitham, finally, shuts his book. ]
I will take a bath in the adjoining room. Do as you wish.
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Date: 2023-04-12 01:49 am (UTC)the only time he breaks contact with them is when they set down the jewelry stand, and there, he finds old gifts he could have sworn he would never see again. the same pair of earrings his parents had gifted him in his coming of age celebration.
how? why? surely they should have been sold. surely the eremites would have made at least a good amount of mora if those ended in the market. when kaveh inspects them up close, there's no mistaking it. these aren't replicas.
he turns to look at alhaitham. ]
Where did you get these?
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Date: 2023-04-12 02:20 am (UTC)he turns back from it. kaveh is gesturing at the jewelry stand and its sole occupant.
oh, that. ]
An eremite pilfered it from your room. She had sold it to a fence. The household paid 1.3 million mora to buy it.
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Date: 2023-04-12 02:58 am (UTC)Why are you giving them back to me? It— It makes no sense.
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Date: 2023-04-12 04:00 am (UTC)Who else would I have given them to? They are yours.
[ with that, he disappears through the door. ]
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Date: 2023-04-12 05:50 pm (UTC)[ what's he supposed to make of that statement? yes, of course they belong to him. that's why they had been stolen, that's why they had been sold for so much mora. what's the point of returning them to him? to ease the walls around his heart and make his opinion on alhaitham better?
that would never happen.
it wouldn't, but kaveh can't shake off the relief, and the weird feeling of... gratitude, maybe. he takes them in his hands, so careful as though they'd break upon touch, and sits on the divan to admire them. not a scratch, nothing broken. a frozen moment in time. they'd have looked exactly the same on his nightstand, back in alcazarzaray. they'd have felt the exact same on his hand, and that alone pains him. a reminder of better times.
being alone with his own thoughts hadn't done him any good so far, but he clings to the one untouchable, unshakable thing about his past. not everything has to change. ]
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Date: 2023-04-12 06:10 pm (UTC)he's using the ends of the towel to tweeze out the last bit of moisture from the ends of his hair as he emerges, draped loosely with a robe the colour of a pre-dawn night. kaveh's existence is like a footnote. his gaze slides off him as he takes a seat on his own bed, shuffling the last of the golden chains off of it as it they were particularly expensive nuisances.
kaveh doesn't seem like he's about to rise. alhaitham rubs his towel over his head, and, without looking up- ]
Your turn.
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Date: 2023-04-12 09:00 pm (UTC)kaveh won't say he almost wishes there was at least something, but — ]
Huh?
[ this, too, he should have expected. there was food, there were no bindings, there's even his own sleeping space (a divan of all things, but in a way, his). most importantly, there's his earrings again, safe on his palms. of course, to add it on top, he'd be able to bathe. by himself, without other people manhandling him.
still. he can't help but be suspicious, every time. why shouldn't he? ]
My turn to what? [ just in case he's misunderstanding it. he'd have to be, right? ]
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Date: 2023-04-12 10:43 pm (UTC)it hadn't been difficult, to track them down. the eremites took whatever they liked from the palace of alcazarzaray - a stipulation of azar's that gave the desert tribes just enough appropriate incentive to join forces - but the war-scribes kept impeccable records of everything that was taken. jewelry is generally difficult to document, but items of enough significance tends to attract attention. the household has a list of two hundred and ninety seven items that alhaitham has put personal notice on, but it will take time before each one is tracked down, purchased, logged, itemised and returned. alhaitham will not have time until he has completed what he has set out to do. but the earrings - those were a simple matter. kaveh of lokapala's coming of age celebration was widely lauded for its artistry, symbolism and beauty. everyone knew the cut, colour and make of those earrings. alhaitham did, too.
it's not difficult to imagine what kaveh had been thinking, looking at them.
alhaitham lets his towel drop down next to him. ]
Take a bath. [ is what he says. ] Lokapalans are aware of such practices, are they not? And they call us Vissudhans backwards in design. Or is it that you've never bathed without a servant to help you with the process?
sorry for my fanfic. it will probably happen again
Date: 2023-04-12 11:32 pm (UTC)[ there's venom on his tongue, and whatever nostalgia clouds his heart is so quickly replaced with that same familiar rage. kaveh does not think twice before he rises, taunt successful, taking with him the clean robes and dry towels the servants had brought, alongside his earrings. no matter what happens, he refuses to take his eyes off of them. he storms to the bathroom, and kaveh being kaveh, he's loud even when he shuts the door behind him.
it takes him a long, long time to bathe.
the first half is spent thinking. he has had several moments by himself, him and his thoughts. almost the entire day, from morning to evening, when alhaitham went to bathe himself, and now. he does not strip just yet, and allows fatigue to catch up to him. mental, emotional fatigue. in his intricate mind, his memories are put together like a jigsaw puzzle.
his mother had been away on a trip to fontaine to visit a friend, ever so clueless of what would befall lokapala in her absence. he thinks by now, surely someone would've sent her a missive, and his heart sinks with worry. her people murdered or enslaved. her only son claimed by the enemy kingdom. her husband—
murdered, too. the news were delivered to him by the eremites, spoken between casual conversation. their voices ring in his ears as though they are people who stand right next to him once again: what of the king?, dead, with barely a struggle. not that he could have done anything, eight against one. fool that he is doesn't even keep guards around. one of us could've handled him easily.
that same day, kaveh had told his father's personal guards to leave their post if only for a night. brothers, he remembers them, one recently turned father. they were loyal, committed to their duty, eager to serve. kaveh had told them to celebrate the birth of a new life, a new addition to their family. a person's happiest memory will always be of their home, and a child should have the company of their mother and father. they insisted to stay. kaveh retorted that one night would do no one any harm.
what a fool he had been. he has never been one to be blessed with good luck, but this he does not blame on whatever god is responsible for a person's fortune or misfortune. alone with his thoughts, he had constantly blamed no one but himself. would the raid have gone differently, had he not said anything? would the guards have been able to defend their king? their prince? their people? would he be at home now, back in a kingdom stained red, but a place he belongs? is he the one meant to carry the sorrow and guilt of all the lives lost?
would he let anyone else carry his burden? of course not.
drowning in his own melancholy, the other half of his bath is spent under cold water. most of it is used to rinse his mouth, over and over and over, but it never feels truly clean. kaveh rubs and scrubs at his skin time and time again, and that, too, doesn't wash away the filth. only when it's red and hurt and burning under the touch, is when he considers his bathing to be over.
it had been forty minutes since the bathroom door had been closed, and he emerges from it without a word. he does not offer a look at alhaitham either, instead finding his way to the divan again, where he seats himself with a towel over his head. the scenery is, at the very least, beautiful to look at. he'll be admiring it for most of the night. ]
i love ur fanfics, chinhands
Date: 2023-04-13 06:44 am (UTC)luck had nothing to do with her death, he knows. old age was a sort of fortune, when you live in his world. it means that you've lived long enough to outlive most of your enemies, but not all. it had been the same for his parents. it will be the same for him, though he knows that he sees far more clearly through the darkness than they ever had. he had the eyes for it. the vultur volans, they say, is brightest of the night constellations. the beak of the eagle sits altair. in its triangle sits alshain and tarazed, the heralds of balance. an eagles wings, when spread, carries with it the weight of the world above and the balance of the world below. only with the keenness of its sight can it see through the darkness, and alhaitham has the eyes for it. he always had. it means the world has never seemed darker for it - the world, instead, has always been bright enough to lay before his feet its tragedies.
only in the dark can you not discern the colour of blood.
there are preparations to be made. he will make them come morning, when the sun rises and the world begins to awake to a continuation of its reality: a world where lokapala no longer exists, annexed into the folds of a nation-state so vicious that its name has become synonymous with bloodshed. avidya will send their envoys. ashavan may do so too, if they have any they could spare; all of them would be competing poets by morning, each coming up with a verse more scathing or more tragic than the last. politics always came later, when it comes to the dreamworld's ashavan and their philosophers. fontaine and liyue would undoubtedly ask after the status of their embassies. the world order will change, shift like chess pieces on sand, and then, as always, it will settle. and what comes from it will be as solid as stone.
pir kavekavus had been a master stonemason. there were people like that, to whom stone is simply another material to be molded.
kaveh returns. forty minutes later, he is wrapped in his bathrobe and wrapped in his thoughts. they come with him like the uncertain trail of feathers, curled vines from a tender forest jungle or the nettles of a spring harvest. he does not, alhaitham notes, look at alhaitham. of course he would not. the night stretches out far like this, outside of that sole window. alhaitham allows it. kaveh has been fed, and watered, and bathed. he has his earrings. he has his fury and his hope and his despairing reality. he has everything that alhaitham knows how to place within his reach. tomorrow, alhaitham will reteach him again the things that he loses in the night, but that is for tomorrow. ]
Sleep. [ is what alhaitham says instead from the foot of his bed. he rises, and one by one, begins to douse the torchlight. ]
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Date: 2023-04-13 09:34 pm (UTC)the room goes dark, and kaveh, sweet, special kaveh, son of the sun, is illuminated by the moonlight, as though claimed by it. the stars weep in sorrow for the loss of their kin, but the moon, star that it is not, still shines with hope in the evening sky. kaveh's own light hasn't been extinguished yet. there is hope. there is always, always hope, if one knows where to seek for it. if one knows to fight.
kaveh does not sleep. from the divan, he stares into the outside, a bird in a cage. here, he thinks, the night is calming. just a day ago, night had been too bright, scorched by the fire. ever so loud, disrupted by violence. here, he finds none of that. it is gentle, and it is calming, and it almost convinces kaveh that it is fine to lay, and close his eyes, and rest.
he had thought so before, too.
kaveh sleeps, eventually. when the sun rises behind the tall mountains of vissudha, it tells kaveh, i will keep you safe. when yellow meets gold, and the sun takes over the flame in kaveh's eyes, he finds will to give in to his fatigue, but he does not move. does not fit neatly under the blankets, does not lay his head on the pillow.
he stays, here he is. hugging his legs, seeking their comfort. he rests his head on his knees, and only then, without the comfort of a better sleep, he allows his body to rest.
not for long, he knows, but at the very least, it'll give him the comfort of not being alone with his own thoughts. ]
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Date: 2023-04-14 03:15 am (UTC)a dark, woven blanket draped over his back, curved like the tail of a long, ancient beast.
at noon, a servant comes in her swaying skirts and brings in a profusely blooming bouquet. sumeru roses flower alongside of the gentle sway of padisarahs. not true padisarahs, never true ones. not since the last ones along the hills of vissudha river faded, never to return, never to the land where it is said the goddess of flower shed her last tear. the card reads thusly: long may the eagle's eyes adjudge.
alhaitham doesn't return. not on the first day, not on the second. the third day, music fills the halls, loud enough to permeate even the deepest of rooms. zithers and sitars, the pattering footfalls of light-spun dancers. gentle laughter and the wafting smell of food. kaveh gets his. dinner rug by dinner rug, day by day, savoury curries and herb-like stews and little paper-thin layered desserts topped with dried green ajilenakh nuts. on the third day, there's a portion of a sumpterbeast turducken, layered with crocodile, and deer, and avidyan peacock, and rabbit, all wrapped up in one another in carefully designed layers. it is, in fact, a significantly proper cut of meat.
it's not until the evening of the fourth day, long after the quiet servant in her swaying dress had come and gone to leave kaveh with a sketchpad and charcoal - drafting paper woven from the toughest fibers of lotus stems; charcoal ever-burnt from the sprouts of adhigama trees - that alhaitham re-emerges from the depths of the palace. the steel of his gaze glances past kaveh as if he were decoration. it lingers upon the bouquet, still-blooming, just a little less profusely, and ignoring it, lets the door fall behind him before his shoulders shift. his cloak is discarded half-way across the floor as he steps to his bed. his face meets its covers, and he is still.
god would have at least made it to day seven, but alhaitham is no god after all. ]
happy to announce i did not die :)
Date: 2023-04-14 05:12 am (UTC)at first, he had not questioned his waking to be so quiet. kaveh did not sleep soundly, plagued by nightmares as he had been, but he slept, and was not roused. the room is empty, he figures, because alhaitham is crown prince, and he has duties and responsibilities. kaveh had been the same way once.
on the first day, his thoughts are nicer to him. it is not as excruciating to be by himself, and he doesn't hate the quiet. the clothes, he rejects them until he's uncomfortable in his own filth, and finds that greens do not suit him nearly as well as lokapala's whites do. he spends the night reminiscing over it. the bouquet goes completely ignored.
on the following days, when alhaitham doesn't return, the weight of his thoughts are heavier. he overthinks, overassumes, makes up impossible scenarios that didn't feel so impossible anymore. alhaitham is making plans to sell him again. alhaitham is having meetings to find all the lokapalans that weren't in the kingdom at the time of the raid. alhaitham is torturing the other slaves. alhaitham, alhaitham, alhaitham.
he has nightmares on the third day, and forces himself to eat that night as well.
on the fourth day, the sketchpad had been appreciated, and it's the first time he feels gratitude since his capture. it's a moment too late, but better than nothing. here, he then wonders, someone surely must be requesting such things of the slaves and servants. alhaitham isn't dead, of course not. there had not been bells rung announcing the crown prince's passing, no mourning rituals. the idea that alhaitham has been thinking of kaveh is one that upsets his stomach, and he figures eating will be hard on the fourth day, too.
except it is on the fourth day that alhaitham returns, without a word, without a glance. kaveh is decoration. that much was obvious on day zero.
here, kaveh learns to despite the quiet.
he does not move from his divan (his, now, that he had spent enough time on to rid it of alhaitham's smell, only to be replaced by his own), but he sets the sketchpad and charcoal down, as though they are his, too, and not a commodity at all. ]
Where have you been?
good. now sleep!!!! doctor tomorrow!!!
Date: 2023-04-14 05:39 am (UTC)he is looking at him, and his eyes are terribly red. alhaitham suddenly feels terribly tired. ]
Tending to my duties. [ is what he says. speaking through half a cheek becomes tedious fairly quickly. it warps his words and strains his mouth. alhaitham flips onto his back after a beat, and breathes out. his head is still turned. ] I have those, you see. I may not be paid for it, but it is work nonetheless. [ and because kaveh expects it: ] Would you know what work is? What have you achieved these last for days, former prince of the Lokapalans?
just one more tag...
Date: 2023-04-14 06:01 am (UTC)kaveh's voice rises, and so does kaveh. on day four, he doesn't mind his distance, and stands by the foot of the bed. had his mind not been clouded by a red-hot anger, he'd almost have thought that looking down on alhaitham is a good look on him. ]
What could I possibly have achieved, locked in your room as I was? You've made me into decoration. You left without a word or warning. What was I to do for four days all by myself?!
looks... at...
Date: 2023-04-14 06:09 am (UTC)alhaitham rolls his eyes. ]
Were you expecting me to stay behind and keep you company, Kaveh? Lounge about in sleepwear so that I can trade barbs with you, perhaps? I wasn't aware you had such an expectation. As an honoured guest, perhaps you can file a formal complaint. I'll receive it with grace.
[ and then, in the exact same tone: ] Your meeting with Elham is tomorrow night. You will be provided with directions. She cannot leave the slave quarters for long, but you will have an hour before she is missed. You may do with that time as you wish.
i went to sleep!!!! i was good!!!
Date: 2023-04-14 09:50 pm (UTC)the lack of purpose is crushing. he doesn't hate the faux freedom, the way he's not, frankly, violated, but he hates not being able to do anything.
until alhaitham speaks, as always. it's the first time he's given a reason to do anything. ]
You weren't lying. [ he had genuinely though it'd be a lie. why would he not? ] Why? Answer me at least this one time. Why are you letting me meet up with her?
good!!! as you should!!!
Date: 2023-04-14 09:59 pm (UTC)the bed is soft, and warm. the temptation to just close his eyes is very real. but the night is long, and he has a few things he needs to complete before then. alhaitham's gaze flips up to the ceiling in a gesture that reads that if the archons won't grant him patience, then allow them to at least grant him strength. ]
I have been providing answers to you. That you dislike them, disbelieve them or can't understand them is none of my concern. [ is what he says first. and then: ] Do you not wish to meet her?
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Date: 2023-04-14 10:25 pm (UTC)would he come to understand alhaitham, one day? does he want to? ]
I do, but why? You've taken both of us as slaves. If anything, most people wouldn't let a captured prince meet with their people. You're aware I worry about her, so why are you being...
[ nice, but kaveh refuses to say it. ]
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Date: 2023-04-14 10:41 pm (UTC)You worry about each and every one of your people. If I were arranging this meeting solely because of your penchant to worry, I would, by necessity, arrange meetings between you and each of your countrymen. Does that seem possible to you?
[ and what would that achieve, aside from keeping kaveh busy? as each individual is met with, the next one begs worry, and the one left behind as well. it would only compound his worries. his rage would burn into despair. as busywork goes, it is ineffective, and it achieves nothing - not on kaveh's part, not on alhaitham's part.
alhaitham shrugs. ]
Rather than guessing at my intentions or lack thereof, you should be taking time to think what you wish to say to her, and how to treat her. If there is anything you wish to pass to her, you will tell me now, so that I can arrange it in the morning.
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Date: 2023-04-14 11:23 pm (UTC)the blood-red of his eyes stare at alhaitham, as though trying to uncover the secret in his words. kaveh always fails to do so. ]
Will we be alone?
[ the obvious answer would be no, but isn't alhaitham king in doing the unexpected? ]
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Date: 2023-04-14 11:29 pm (UTC)Yes.
[ his eyebrow quirks. ] Why would I go to the trouble of arranging a clandestine meeting between yourself and one of your countrymen, and have someone else there for it? If I suspected the two of you were capable of discussing anything of importance, I would not have arranged the meeting to begin with.
[ the truth of the matter is, what he needs is for the two to meet. anything that comes from it is beside the point. alhaitham knows kaveh. he knows the warmth of his empathy and the depth of his care. he would not put any of his countrymen in danger. it is, in fact, what is needed at this juncture.
this, he does not say. instead: ] Elham will keep the time. She is aware of the one hour time restriction. You will do well to remind her as well; I will not be responsible for the consequences should the two of you overstay.
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From:what happened to not writing fanfic, man.
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From:i never got this notif wtf ????
From:dw thinks we've had too much fun with gay men
From:ur not wrong tbh
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From:"welcome back to rp", you say, forcing me to write this. sick in the HEAD!!!!!!!!!
From:HAHAH you know u love it ✨✨✨
From:.......... i shall neither confirm nor deny it thank you,
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From:im going to kill you one of these days it is a Promise
From:sparkles!!!
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