#princemordecai

[inheritanceistar]

Sacrifice oneself for oneself, that was Istar's creed. When he commanded his weaves, he did it for himself and his goals. Reaching the height of magic, saving witch lives, boasting the strength Odin blessed him with before all who bore witness, these were the reasons Istar got so excited for battle. But he was a soldier and Leander's cutting tone helped to remind him of that. When Istar fought in Leander's army, he fought for him alone. "Understood, Sir."

Andvari shifted again, sending Istar plummeting toward the ground with its four metal hands palms down to soften the impact. On one knee with his left hand pressed against the earth, his armor shifts to be a cube on his back. When Istar wove spells through Yggdrasil, he didn't need his armor.

"ᚾᛟᚹ ᚷᚨᚱᛗ ᚺᛟᚹᛚᛊ ᛚᛟᚢᛞ ᛒᛖᚠᛟᚱᛖ ᚷᚾᛁᛈᚨᚺᛖᛚᛚᛁᚱ, ᚦᛖ ᚠᛖᛏᛏᛖᚱᛊ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛒᚢᚱᛊᛏ,ᚨᚾᛞ ᚦᛖ ᚹᛟᛚᚠ ᚱᚢᚾ ᚠᚱᛖᛖ; ᛗᚢᚲᚺ ᛞᛟ ᛁ ᚲᚾᛟᚹ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᛗᛟᚱᛖ ᚲᚨᚾ ᛊᛖᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚦᛖ ᚠᚨᛏᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚦᛖ ᚷᛟᛞᛊ, ᚦᛖ ᛗᛁᚷᚺᛏᛃ ᛁᚾ ᚠᛁᚷᚺᛏ."

From the mud, constructs shaped as hellhounds rose up at Istar's invocation. A vicious pack with the devastation of Hel at their fangs began clearing the way, death permeating the air and targeting the darkspawn as they fought back. When Istar walked forward, it was with mistilteinn vines wrapping around his limbs, purifying the air for him and those who fought on his side.

Leander shot Istar a harsh look, his brows furrowed in a scowl that etched deep lines into his blood-spattered face. His voice was a gruff bark, cutting through the cacophony of the battlefield like a whip. "Cut the shit, Istar. This isn't a fucking show." Around them, the air was thick with the stench of darkspawn blood and the acrid smoke of burning buildings. The clash of steel and the screams of the wounded echoed through the streets of Aventia, the grim symphony only added to Leander's aggression. He gestured sharply at the relentless horde with a crude point of his finger. Leander's expression was grim, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle ticked in his cheek.

"They're after us because we're the threat," he growled, his stance wide and aggressive, every muscle in his body taut and ready for action. They'd been at this for hours and one by one the Warriors were falling as the darkspawn focused their efforts on them. His eyes, shone with a piercing gold as he scanned the battlefield "Something's pulling their strings," He turned to Istar, his gaze unyielding, demanding. "Volunteers sink or swim." If they hadn't known what they were signing up for when the Dark landed on their doorstep, then they were fools. "Push forward. Cut them down. End this."

[agrcn]

PAVED IN BLOOD

Mentions: @princemordecai & @casimirnoctis & @kunokye Trigger Warning(s): Death

The first time he had died, he had asked for death. Valerius had offered him a solution to his one and only problem. To anyone that would listen to him, his motivation for joining the Warrior’s Guild had been to prove himself, to prove that he wasn’t worthless. The Tower had told him that he was. The more he had used his magic after that, the more he had been convinced that it was true. But then he had picked up a sword and shield. It was his saving grace, the one good thing. Anger had still permeated his every thought, but he could forget about it for a moment or two when he sparred with the other warriors in the Guild.

But then there was Valerius. There was always Valerius. He’d found him at his best and worst, shown him a path that he hadn’t even thought possible. Why would he have ever said no to an offer like that? Valerius had shown himself to be nothing but proud of him. There were his tests, but every mentor had a test. Really, Agron had been eager to prove himself. He always had been.

Blood had been dropped into the basin. Then again. And again. And again. Over and over, Agron was tested. Loyalty to a man he considered a father was easy to give. He had been so damn eager. Strike down those Valerius asked him to and he would be worthy. He would be proud of him. Who else could say that? Who else could say that Valerius Noctis actually treasured them? That was what Agron thought at least. Valerius had never told him any different. If he didn’t want Agron there, it would be easy to dispose of him. It would have all been fine that night if he had just stayed at the vampire’s side. Instead, he had run into a dhampir.

Casimir. The heron mark on his blade had been placed there after years and years of hard work. Agron had put his blood, sweat and tears into his craft every single day. Valerius had noticed it with a single look. Agron had asked for death. He had wanted to become a strigoi. He had wanted to get his revenge on the Tower for all of the anger that they had placed within his heart, all of the hate. But then Casimir had to go and say that he was desecrating that heron mark. Everything he had worked so hard to accomplish, everything he had worked so hard to prove, could be gone. Instead of looking at him with respect, they would look at him with fear.

It was that thought that stayed with him that night. It was that thought that stayed with him as Valerius was captured before his eyes and then himself. Damodred had offered him a way out. She had offered him a new path.

Redemption.

It was easy for him to drop his blood into that basin again because he knew what to expect. He knew what Valerius wanted and he knew that only he could get it done. The first thought he had as the basin lapped up his blood and grabbed a hold of him was a simple one. If he died here, would Leander care? Would Kuno?

A test of faith was all this was though. As he had expected, he had accomplished what needed to be done. All he needed to do was find Valerius and put a stop to this all. But could he? Would he be able to strike when the moment came? This was his sire. He was indebted to the vampire. If Agron could breathe, he felt like he would have needed to take a single breath. His body felt lighter than ever, but his lungs felt empty.

The first time he had died, he asked for death. This time though? He hadn’t. It was his fault. He had trusted that they were not amongst anyone that would go against them. He hadn’t expected this and he should have. It had happened so fast. Kuno was right there. He had been right there. Agron had felt it happen before he could react. It almost felt painless. Was this what it had felt like before?

He hadn’t even told Leander that he loved him.

Then there was nothing. It was quiet. His soul had felt like it was slipping away.

Would Kuno feel like this was his fault? It wasn’t. He had done everything right. This was Agron’s fault. He was always reckless. He fought like he had nothing to lose. Except now he had everything to lose and Valerius had more of a hold on him than ever. He almost didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to…

The Tower was in shambles. They were all running around as if everything that could have gone wrong did. Wasn’t that what had happened though? Valerius had escaped. Agron’s eyes widened as he looked around.

He had died.

He had failed.

The Tower had been right. Agron, the Queensguard. Agron, the Red Knight of Lysara.

He had failed. The Tower would call him useless.

He had failed. The Warriors Guild would call him useless.

He had failed. Leander would call him useless.

He had failed. Kuno would call him useless.

He had failed.

'Come home to me, my Red Knight.'

Valerius didn't think he was useless. He never had.

[incubusnero]

Person: @princemordecai Location: Watching those gladiator's oil up At one point, Nero had never thought anything would be as exciting as being on the sidelines of a jousting tournament, some kind of public sparring. The crowds were always in good spirits, the tension in the air palpable, the liquor flowed. Gladiator's were something else though, he didn't think he could ever consider going after another knight after seeing them. The crowd is rowdier, the fights far more vicious, there's this energy of violence and depravity in the air. Not to mention he swears they oil them up before they get themselves dirtied up again and he makes eye contact first with a perfect pair of pectorals in the arena before he looks to exactly who he expected to be there. at the side of the stands. "Did I miss anything interesting?"

[akanisxingrid]

Who: @princemordecai

They left like new people returning to Eterna the city was very much the same, but with a new air of worry then there had been before. But who could blame the atmosphere when a city fell to the darkspawn. But unlike in Aventia Akanis felt ready to face the darkspawn next time. It was clear in his stride that the queensguard had found a part of him that was missing.

Walking into the places to present himself to the queen wasn’t something he feared, he could present himself in front of the Queen with pride, with good news. And the information from his memories were shared as she might be able to make some use of the knowledge. He spent what felt like hours debriefing the Queen. Ingrid also chimed in about her own trial and amused the queen slightly that she had been present in it. Ingrid definitely left some part out for her own sanity.

But once that was all said and done, Akanis hadn’t forgotten he had sent a letter to Leander when he had set upon his search for the phoenix and while he liked to think it had arrived to the prince's hand before he had, it wasn't a certainty. Knocking on Leander's door loudly just in case the prince had company. “It is Sir Akanis, your highness.”

[fharzai]

The crown's power was special and important. WIthout it, even Fharzai could admit his sphere of influence wouldn't be as far-reaching as it was. One day the Queen—and Leander too it seemed from the reading—would make choices that shaped the pattern of Taravell for generations to come. All Fharzai could do was guide them in the right direction.

"Make no mistake my prince, this tower is a source of stability across the continent. Balance is centered here thanks to the efforts of witches like Her Majesty. Like you. Anyone who threatens it is no friend to peace or friend of mine." There weren't many Children of the West left, but Fharzai's detachment extended to them as well. Whatever threads of Fate other druids tracked only pertained to Fharzai when his dreams guided him to assist, and if he caught wind of them bringing something nefarious to his stronghold... "Any pattern that involves harm to Olympians or their house of knowledge is one I will reject in no uncertain terms."

"Many things, many many things," Leander mused, "but no, Fharzai, your love and loyalty aren't things I've ever questioned." The dreamer and his odd fixations might not have been to the prince's taste, but the druid had his worth and his value. A realm of magic that however studied, wasn't one that interested Leander enough for the warrior to broach.

"And if a time comes where you must choose between your people and this tower?" Leander asked, naturally the queen did what she could to maintain the interests of all parties, but when the choice came, she'd choose her city. It's people, the Tower, and the witches within. Iskarans had hunted Fharzai's kind to practical extinction in their borders, it wasn't uncommon for druids to shoulder the blame for the world's problems.

[agrcn]

closed starter for @princemordecai location: the border between the lostlands and haven note: jinkies

Having not seen the prince since their...moment, Agron was quite concerned. He shouldn't have been, but his mind kept telling him that he should apologize or try and make amends of some sort. It had never been in his nature to be that kind of person though. He was a man of duty, the Queensguard. The Mordecai family was one he had sworn loyalty to and that, for certain, included Leander. He was sure he had messed up whatever progress they had made with just one moment though. And, with how Agron was as a person, he didn't know how to fix it. A bottle of cologne sure wasn't going to cut it this time.

Nevertheless, that was only the second reason he had made his way to the border. Refugees had been making their way over to Lysara and now they simply could not. This barrier was one that nobody seemed to know how to dispel and this was far above Agron's abilities to even try to do anything about it. The witches of the Tower were sure to be trying to figure out a way. Until then, they would all have to stay put. Maybe it would be handled soon, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, Agron was more concerned about the safety of Lysarans. And the royal family.

That was what brought him to Leander. He wasn't sure how the witch would treat him now, but he would be prepared to adapt. The other's back was to him as he arrived so he cleared his throat. "Prince Leander."

[agrcn]

closed starter for @princemordecai location: eterna note: uwu

If someone were to tell Agron years ago that he would be here with Leander, he probably would've told them to fuck off. But here they were. They had fought together, trained together. Now they were bonded by this whole thrall thing and he was second-guessing everything. Not that that really had anything to do with Leander personally though. It had everything to do with the fact that he didn't want it to look like he was fucking his way to the top. Agron didn't really care what people thought about him when it came to most things, but he did when it came to something like that. After he had worked his ass off to even become a Blademaster, it had felt like he took several steps backwards when Valerius had turned him. After that whole debacle, it felt like he was somewhat moving in the right direction. He was a Queensguard. He mattered to these people. He mattered to the Lysaran throne. Nothing could take that away from him. That didn't mean the thoughts weren't still there though.

That was what brought him to his current position at the foot of this bed that he felt he wasn't supposed to be in. The hilt of his sword was gripped within his hand, the heron mark the only thing he was focused on. This was the one thing that couldn't be taken from him. He wouldn't let it. His head turned slightly towards where Leander was as he cleared his throat, but his gaze was still on the heron mark. "Have I ever told you how I got this?"

[ageofkarme]

Useless… It wasn't the first time he'd been called that and it probably wouldn't be the last, but as scary as Leander's tone could be the word sounded hollow coming from his mouth. The mystery box was a lot more cutting than the prince could ever be. "With all due respect Sir, I was never useless." Karme says this definitively, facing Leander and even looking him in the eye as he did. Of course, he may not have been a vicious copy of grandmama tearing him down, but he was still scary.

As if realizing what he'd just said a second too late, Karme averts his gaze and stumbles back against the workbench. "I-I just mean it's never been my job to fight, that's all. I got your initial forces to Aventia in record time. I-I lived in a warzone, for a time, and it never hardened me to battle. I hope I never harden, because violence is scary. No one can shame me into feeling differently, not even you." Fiddling with his fingers, Karme kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his heart racing as he struggled to believe he was saying these things to Leander of all people. But he wasn't the same witch he was in Aventia. "I'll be better though, because I do owe it to everyone who's fought so I didn't have to. I've still flown more miles than any other skytrol-fueled vessel pilot in the queendom, so you will need me. When you call, I'll answer. Even if I'm scared." Karme wanted to let the earth swallow him whole after saying all that to Leander, but luckily his relationship with his mom was a bit healthier now. Surprised that she was being brought up, his gaze jerked back to Leander, both curious and uncertain. "You wanted to talk about … oh yeah, sure. I wouldn't mind that. No one in Genovia really talks about her but I … she's kinda the witch I want to make proud now." 

The confirmation made the Olympian bristle, cantankerous on a good day he stayed straight-backed as he glowered for a moment at the giggling inventor. "You were useless. Do better or don't show your face under my command again." Leander recalled the ship in the air, doing nothing despite that an Olympian of Vulcan was behind the helm. The prince thought maybe there was a reason that Calpurnia's fucking cards turned that one over for him, but he should've known better. Random chance to a random brat. "I buried eight Warriors. Had you done anything up there maybe at least one of them would've made it out of Aventia alive. You owe it to them." Some weren't meant for the battlefield, they did better behind the scenes, but Karme seemed determined to prove otherwise so Leander would expect results in the future.

Grilling Karme wasn't why he was here though, well, talking to Karme at all wasn't why he was here but while he waited for Verna he'd cross one conversation off his list. "I wanted to talk about your mother."

[agrcn]

closed starter for @princemordecai location: tower of olympia note: wink wonk

The room was empty save for the two of them. A good thing given that Agron was not often himself around the prince. They weren't here for an exchange though. The strigoi had invited Leander there because the two of them seemed to both be interested in this gladiator arena thing. Agron had only ever attended if Queen Arethusa attended, but really he didn't do much outside of that. Maybe the fights were all entertaining. He just wasn't ever going to go on his own to this sort of thing. Now that he was participating in it, he felt like it was somewhat hypocritical of him to be there. He was a Blademaster though. This felt like he was supposed to do this. Or maybe he just wanted to get into some sort of competition. He may not have gone out much, but he certainly was always interested in a fight that could yield more recognition. As if he didn't have enough.

He had been testing the weight of one of these practice swords when he heard those telltale footsteps. Honestly, he more so smelled Leander's scent before he even saw the witch. I was one he was all too familiar with. Anyway, that wasn't the point of this. Sparring. That was the point. He pointed the sword towards Leander and kicked the other one he had grabbed towards the prince. "Let's see what you're made of."

[agrcn]

closed starter for @princemordecai location: the lab where valerius was hahahahahaha note: uwu but make it sad

It felt like all he could hear was Valerius' voice in his head. From the moment he had stepped foot in that dreaded place, it had been consistent. Agron had always been reckless. He had placed his hands within that skull without a second thought because it was what was needed. Everything he ever did was because he thought it was necessary. How often was he putting his life on the line because it was something he thought he needed to do? That was why he was the Queensguard. He didn't mind dying if it meant he was protecting someone. But doing what he did that day felt like it had so much of a lasting impact on him that he couldn't shake it.

Valerius had escaped. Valerius was in his head. The vampire was his sire and, unfortunately for Agron, he had no choice but to feel indebted to the man he had once looked up to as a father. Maybe he still did to an extent. He couldn't quit thinking about how he was lucky. Akanis hadn't been as fortunate. He'd failed at protecting his fellow Queensguard. He would fail as a Queensguard. He would fail at being a mentor. He would fail at being a husband. He would just...fail. That was what he would have to come to terms with. What he couldn't figure out was if that was his own thoughts or Valerius in his mind hoping to get a grasp on him. Was Valerius the only person he could depend on?

How he had gotten to this lab was a blur to him. Valerius had been right there just a few weeks ago. Agron had seen him. He hadn't spoken to him, but he had seen him. Sword dragging behind him, he stopped in the middle of the room. 'Come to me, my Red Knight.'

There it was again. Maybe he was just hearing it now or maybe it was actually the vampire in his head. Either way, he wanted it gone. If he could find Valerius himself, then this would go away. He wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but he blinked them open and looked around. "You want me to find you. You..." He wiped at his eyes, blood staining his fingers. It was a sight he was all too familiar with. So much for being the hero that Leander had said people would call him. How could he ever be that when he didn't trust himself?

"Leander." He whispered the name as if it was some sort of prayer that would save him right now, but all he really wanted was for the man to find him. There needed to be a different voice in his head right now and he only hoped it was the one he needed the most.

[agrcn]

closed starter for @princemordecai location: eterna note: *loud barking*

Marriage. Agron had been wondering what the fuck he was thinking for so long now that he had just accepted his own stupidity. The two of them hadn’t even said that they loved each other yet. It was clear that they did, but wasn’t that a prerequisite? They weren’t exactly a normal couple though. They had hung out once and then hadn’t stopped. And now they were going to get married. It felt odd for Agron to think about. The face that he would fall for someone that he couldn’t have for the rest of his life was a choice that he had made and it was one he would have to deal with.

A hand dragged down his face. “You’re fucking stupid, Agron.” And apparently crazy, too. Here he was talking to himself when he could just talk to Leander. The witch would probably agree with the statement he had just made, but Agron had been lost in his own thoughts for so long that he’d forgotten Leander was even there. If it meant anything for him to sigh, he probably would have. Instead, he dropped his hand and looked behind him towards the man he had agreed to do this with. “Don’t give me that look.”

[agrcn]

closed starter for @princemordecai location: leander's chambers note: :fuckboi:

To everyone else, Agron could lie and say that this hadn't affected him. The fact that another place had fallen so soon after Iskaldrik weighed on him more than he cared to admit. This one more so than the latter, of course. He'd been there in Aventia. He'd attempted to fight until he couldn't anymore. At least he'd had one good thing to come out of it all, but even that couldn't fill the feeling of disappointment he had with himself. He could tell others words to somewhat placate them or make them feel better, but he would always seem to beat himself down. The only person he could even remotely express that to was the man in the room with him right now.

"Why do I feel like I failed?" He hadn't. He wasn't the only person that had been there. Again though, Agron was constantly his own biggest critic. He didn't expect Leander to coddle him though. They were just words spoken that he couldn't help but let out at the moment.

[agrcn]

I've been carried away tryin' to get inside your brain

@princemordecai

[agrcn]

Neptunalia Festival

"There is no competition. Respectfully, you could never be me. Disrespectfully, I would never want to be you."

accompanied by @princemordecai

@thequeendomhqinspo

[inheritanceistar]

Again, he laughs, enjoying himself too much for their current predicament. "Commander. I tend to still lose myself in the excitement of battle. Old habits die hard, eh?" Yes, Istar had a bad habit of showmanship. The self-aggrandizing nature of his magic during fights like these were certainly a weakness. He threw himself into the fray, defended his fellow witch with pride, and relished in his ability to keep up with a superior like Leander while death and carnage rained down around them. This battlefield was no different than any Istar had come across while Lysara clashed with Astoria. In the end, that cheery smile of his was both a tell and a weakness. Even now, Istar was holding back.

Taking the cue, the blows stop so that Istar could use Andvari's hands to tear the ogre in half, finishing it off finally. He leaps and as he rises, his armor's form changes shape and function, sprouting the wings of its flight form. "Forgive me, I know the situation is dire," he says as he joins Leander in the air, only now seeing the full scale of Aventia's devastation. "Targeting us? Almost sounds like you're suggesting they have a strategy." Istar didn't have much experience with darkspawn, but he did know they were mindless. Or rather, they were supposed to be mindless. "If that's the case, aren't the more ... inexperienced volunteers at risk? I'd like to be able to protect them if you want to continue an advance."

This fucking guy. Istar had once been a knobby-kneed boy scratching at the doors of the Tower. Leander was a few years his senior, but he'd grown up on the stacks, and he'd already been Accepted when Istar arrived at the gate. The Warrior had known just as everyone else did that Istar would take the red and submit himself to Ares eventually. The passion of his rage was undeniable and while Leander cared for few and tolerated less, he would always have room at his table for a fellow Warrior of Mars.

Their stories could not have been more different, but they fought on the same battlefields, against the same enemies, and for the same causes. That meant something to Leander, it was more than he cared to articulate, but as molten flames erupted around him, he took a beat to appreciate the wall of indomitable force that was the Olympians in their glory.

"Save the novelties for Court, it's Commander." Leander amended, the darkspawn were relentless and they continuously pressed their advance. "They're targeting us." That much was clear, the Warriors were powerful but their strength was not unlimited. Ten could hold back an army but this was unlike any force that they'd faced to date.

[fharzai]

"Even if she chose to ignore that voice, I would still do whatever I could to protect Lysaran interests. Whatever else you may think of me, I hope you've never doubted my love for you queendom." It wasn't a passive love either. If Fharzai even thought for a moment that house Mordecai was a threat to his balance, he'd do whatever he needed to ensure Lysara moved forward. But the way he looked at Queen Damodred, then Queen Arethusa as she grew, the daughter she didn't have and the son she did, were undoubtedly with the eyes of someone who cared.

"Dreams are private, Her Majesty's or otherwise. Though I can say her sleep is always blissful. I'd have it no other way," he says with a slight bow of acknowledgment. Much could be learned about a person from their dreams, so Fharzai did not share what he saw in most cases. However, it was becoming harder and harder to justify his tightlippedness as more of what he gleaned became pertinent to current events. "Where do I stand? Well ... whatever path leads to the Tower still standing is one I will counsel the Sitters to take. No matter what, it cannot fall. Though it is my hope that our citizens can avoid further violence."

"You're here at the Queen's leisure, given position and authority because she saw fit to give the dúnedain a voice." Leander reminded though he smiled as he took in the setting a bit more and considered how long Fharzai had been settled in Eterna now. How long he'd likely be hereafter, it took a great deal of commitment to affix yourself to any place for any given length of time. "Fortunately you and my mother and my grandmother were always close. Tell me, what does she dream of? Is it all chariot races and naval expeditions?"

The Aetherians could only be a formidable foe, but the Sitters would do what they could to settle things. "It's said that our Scholars have the power to end a war before it is begun." Astorian atrocities could not be negotiated or ignored, Iskaran brutes could only be put down. But a society of magi? Perhaps they were foes that Lysara could reason with. "If the dreamer wishes to walk, then he has my consent to do so. But where do you stand in all this, Fharzai? The fence will only suit you for so long."