#samiel tremark

[seihar]

Sketch compilation of Jay and Samiel from @ladyinbooks ‘s original book ‘Icarus, Burning’ that I absolutely adore and I recommend everyone to read! These two will always have a very special place in my heart  🥹 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[ladyinbooks]

HI!! I just started reading Icarus, Burning while on a hunt for original works on AO3 and I love it sooooo much already; I'll be reading your other works ASAP hehe! Anyway, I was wondering if you have any particular writing inspirations for Icarus, Burning? And, if it's okay to ask, do you have any tips for an aspiring writer who wants to post their original fic online (AO3 as well?) Thank you so much for your time and I hope you're having a good day!!

Hello lovely anon! Thank you so much for your message (and I'm so sorry for my slow response - life has been very busy).

I'm so pleased you are enjoying IB, and I hope you enjoy my other fics too! ❤️❤️

In terms of inspiration for writing IB, there were a couple of things. It originally spawned from me messing around with the idea of mythological sirens, and how I thought it'd be funny to make them an utterly repressed, politely murderous society (as opposed to their scantily-clad Greek mythological counterparts). Then I desperately wanted to put them into a scifi world and have them engage in cross-cultural politics with humans.

Over the course of a couple of years, the fic slowly evolved (with lots of mythology/Classical Greek inspirations along the way), but the truth of the matter is, that originally the whole of IB was actually meant to be about Hird and Venndred and it was a very different story. Samiel and Jason were side characters, and neither were meant to have a relationship with the other. (Jay was meant to be much more of a 'Lault' figure to start with.)

However.

As I was plotting out their backstories (because I love thinking about secondary characters), Samiel came wandering up to me and very politely made it known that actually, he was in love with this human diplomat. And oh, by the way, his backstory was far more significant than I'd originally thought.

And honestly? That was the moment I realised I had to write about the pair of them instead. I won't say Samiel sprang fully-formed in my head, but the more I thought about him, the more he had to say for himself, and I realised very quickly that if Samiel Tremark was in love with Jason Lane, then really that was the story that needed telling. And the more I thought about Samiel, the more I thought about Jay, and who he was - really was - and how actually, his story had to mirror Samiel's in a whole host of ways, and what that meant for his character, and the way he develops in IB.

All of which is my very long-winded way of saying: Samiel Tremark bullied me as I was sitting thinking about him on a bus one day, and he and Jay haven't left me alone since. 🤣

I hope you are having a lovely day too, anon! ❤️❤️❤️

[etherealysis]

“Hello Ambassador,” Samiel says, as beautiful and sweet and deadly as Jay has ever heard him. “I believe you have something of mine. I've come to retrieve it.”

(Or: after decades of Fucking Around, Lault finally Finds Out)

@ladyinbooks

[ladyinbooks]

@matchoaa sent me this, and added:

Venndred wrote this

And yeah. I can see it. XD

[ladyinbooks]

So, I am finally done with all the spin-offs and side stories and generally spread around facts XD

Now I am really interested in how Samiel transitioned from barely being able to call and think of Lord Athannus as Father, to "Papa"?

Also... they got married, he asked Jason to marry him... I wanna detailzzzzzz!

Hehe, yes there is quite a lot for Samiel and Jay. XD (To be fair, they lived in my head rent-free for about five years, and, uh, quite honestly they're still there and I haven't got the heart to evict them at this point!) Thank you for the lovely questions! You've given me a shameless excuse to ramble about them! ❤️❤️

Ohh gosh, one day I want to write a oneshot around this (probably from Daimion's point of view), about Samiel's slowly evolving relationship with his father. I think it's a long, long process, with healthy doses of resentment from Samiel (some of which are irrational, some of which not), and a lot of soft feels. I like to think they build their way towards a relationship as father and son in the in-betweens. Between missions. Between visits. In scraps and messages and letters along the way. I think sometimes Samiel visits Daimion with Jay, and sometimes he comes on his own, and both of them occasionally need a third party (*cough*Venn*cough*) to act as a balance.

And it takes time, it all takes time. Because Samiel hasn't had a parent, and Daimion has desperately tried to have a son in the only way he can: by never letting him know who they were to one another. And they struggle to let go of that together. But they keep trying, and slowly Samiel becomes more interested in what Daimion is attempting to do on Lenia, and Daimion is fascinated by every aspect of his son's new life on Elysium, until one day, one day -

On a perfectly normal visit to Elysium, on a perfectly ordinary morning, at a perfectly ordinary breakfast, Daimion hands a half-distracted Samiel a cup of his favourite tea, and Samiel says 'Thanks papa,' without even realising it.

And Daimion has to go and find a corner to have a quiet cry about it.

All of which is my long-winded way of saying: it gets better, and it blossoms, and it's slow and so very worth it.

I have so many feels about these two.

As for Samiel asking Jay if he will marry him? You *know* that it was meant to be a perfect moment; that Samiel had planned to the finest detail. And yet it all goes horribly wrong because Samiel can't shut up, and so rather than making a romantic speech, when the big moment comes he just blurts out 'Marry me!' and then spends the next thirty seconds panicking, because Jay hadn't been expecting this, and is still mentally trying to play catch-up.

(It's the longest thirty seconds of Samiel's life, and he spends it plotting all the ways he can burn down the universe if Jay says no.)

[ladyinbooks]

hiii, i've recently gotten into IB and i absolutely binged my way through the story and like any and all tumblr posts of it ans i simply cannot get enough.

so i've been toying with the idea of making a jay/samiel playlist and i wanted to ask if there were any songs or artists or anything of the sort that you link to them <3

Oh my gosh thank you! I'm so pleased you enjoyed IB (and went through tumblr for my IB ramblings as well!). ❤️

A Jay/Samiel playlist sounds amazing - please do feel free to link it, if you would like to! (I always adore song recs, as other absolutely lovely readers will confirm!)

Personally, a couple of songs I always link in my head with Samiel 'n Jay are:

Human (Rag 'n Bone Man) - this is very much my Jay song Skin (Rag 'n Bone Man) - this is very much my Samiel song Candlelight (Jack Savoretti) - the overall feel of not wanting to hide/hide from your lover

[ladyinbooks]

What does "Arikta vashti" mean? On another note, I've been re-reading Tales of the Interior Circle and first chapter made me think, what was going on in Samiel's head when he understood Jason didn't know about killing orders and did not betray him? We only get a glimpse in IB but there was surely a storm going on inside him...

Ooh, I think that's the part where Samiel's shouting in court, is that right? If I remember correctly I had a sort of rough translation of 'spineless bastard' in my head. It's... definitely not a compliment coming from Samiel. XD

Ohh my gosh. Poor Samiel was a wreck. I think on the one hand he was absolutely elated - vindication! His master didn't betray him and it's one less obstacle towards Samiel's goal of marrying that man so hard he never, ever, ever leaves him! And on the other hand - horror. Like, he's dedicated his rage and vengeance and sickening, reluctant obsession to Jason all this time, and now - now it's not even true. Samiel was obsessed with Jay in spite of himself, and now there's a part of him that doesn't know what to do with that anger. It hasn't gone away like it should, and if he can't direct it at Jay then, well, where does it go?

(I have so many thoughts on poor Samiel at this point, the biggest of which is he is A Mess.)

[ladyinbooks]

Hi, I adore your works, the way you use pet names and endearments just makes me all fuzzy and tingly (and often horny lol). And your take on love is much more realistic for me than any romantic rainbows and unicorns. My question is: is there translation for Siren language used in IB? Every time Samiel speaks I go searching for translation notes but never get one, it bugs the living hell out of me... XS

Aww, thank you! <33333 I'm so pleased you enjoy my works! I think it's true I'm fairly predictable when it comes to having pet names (and enemies to lovers) in my fics, so I'm very happy indeed that someone else likes them too! :D (And I'm definitely guilty of the less rainbows and unicorns side of love stories - it's great fun to write dangerous men doing dangerous/terrible things in the name of love, so I'm very happy you enjoy my writing!)

Ooh this is a great question! There's no direction translation of Lenian, mostly because I basically invented it, cobbling together bits of ancient Greek and Latin-sounding words. There are a few exceptions (I think someone explains to Jay what mio ades means, and some of the names/titles are definitely Greek mythology based (and in some cases there's a pun going on there too XD). However, I'm curious if any phrases in particular caught your eye, because I can definitely tell you what Samiel was shouting in my head at any given point, if you would like!

[ladyinbooks]

I was rereading Icarus, Burning and I'm reminded how I love the characters as well as the world building! Can't believe we get to read stuff like this for free! Thank you once again. Also, I can't wait to read Rarely Pure now that it's getting updates! ❤️

Hopefully you'll have a fantastic day/night.

Ahh lovely anon, thank you! 🤗 I'm so glad you love the characters and the world building (and you have no idea how happy it makes me to see you're rereading - the fact that it's something you came back to because you enjoyed it the first time means the world to me).

Yes, Rarely Pure is finally getting updates (she says, having not updated in a month 😅). However, there's a new chapter later today (I'm just doing final tweaks) and we're back on track for hopefully every two weeks again. Whew!

Have a fantastic day/night too! 💖

[ladyinbooks]

Because I was in the mood for some fluffy goodness, let’s have Valentines day fun with Samiel and Jay. 😉

Title: Then kiss me once again Warnings: None Summary: It’s been thirty years since the Songbird Pact Notes: Title taken from ‘It’s been a long, long time’ (Harry James)

The thirtieth anniversary of the Songbird Pact is not a grand affair.

When Daimion had floated the idea of having the celebrations on Elysium, Jay hadn’t really had the heart to say no. The compromise had been: no media, no diplomats, and friends and family only. It was working surprisingly well so far.

“He’s loving this,” Samiel murmurs in Jay’s ear.

Slowly, Jay leans back into the warm, familiar heat behind him. “I know.”

Because Daimion really is loving it all.

His curls – silver now, instead of gold – are thoroughly visible against the warm stonework of the hall. He’s sitting comfortably, bright-eyed as he talks amiably to Hird and Venndred. One of the neighbour’s children is tugging on his hand, demanding attention, much to the stifled horror of her father.

“I wish –” Samiel adds, then stops to clear his throat.

Jay settles more comfortably against him. “I know,” he repeats. Because he does.

However much Samiel may want otherwise for his father, Daimion is never going to have a gentle retirement; a slow, peaceful decline into rest. He’ll never settle on Elysium; never leave his own lasting impression on neighbours, or live close to them in Kathikas. He’s still far too active, and far too reluctant, to leave Lenia in the hands of someone else yet.

But it feels like time is slipping away from them because of it. Samiel doesn’t see him as much as he wants to, and Daimion fights desperately for every scrap of time he can carve out for his son, sometimes to the detriment of his own wellbeing. It’s an uneasy balance, and not an entirely satisfactory one.

Pyrrhine Medala is being surprisingly patient about it all, though. Especially given that she’s probably serving the longest apprenticeship in history, at this point. Even Jay has to admit that she’s been helpful; quietly taking up more of the strenuous burdens of ruling where she can.

Samiel hooks his chin over Jay’s shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. He wraps his arms around Jay’s waist and hums, contented. They both sway a little, moving with the slow, gorgeous tempo Jay can feel winding through their bond, as Samiel rocks them from side to side.

This feeling never gets old, Jay thinks. The giddying privilege of being here, with this man, in this time, wound so tightly together that they share a heartbeat most days.

Thirty years, and sometimes he still has to blink awake in the morning, scrub the sleep from his eyes and realise that yes. Yes, that is Samiel Athannus staring back at him: a perfect composition of silver-threaded curls, laughter lines and the kind of smile that Jay is never going to be able to stop from breaking his heart, just a little.

“I love you,” he says quietly, as Samiel digs the point of his chin in harder. “But all of this. It’s been so long. Did you ever think we’d make it this far?” He means thirty years, and he means together, and he means as everything.

“Yes,” Samiel says, and Jay feels the utter conviction of it ring through them both. “And we’ve got a way to go yet, mio ades.”

“Says you.” Jay slides a hand down; wraps it around Samiel’s forearm and squeezes. “What if I’ve had enough of you causing me trouble after thirty years?”

“Then you’d better be prepared for the worst,” Samiel says. He drops a kiss, small and a little wicked, to the corner of Jay’s jaw. “Because we’ve all seen what I’m capable of, if you decide to leave me. I’m not sure the galaxy could stand it again.”

“Once every three decades is enough then?”

“Once every lifetime,” Samiel says firmly. “Because my knees may sometimes ache, but it doesn’t mean I’m still not perfectly capable of slinging you over my shoulder, carrying you off to the nearest abandoned outpost and keeping you there, if you get any foolish ideas about running away now.”

“Ah well,” Jay murmurs, and feels Samiel grin against his shoulder. “I suppose if I’ve put up with you for this long…”

The tip of Samiel’s nose nudges against Jay’s cheek. “Then you can keep going. Because you’re stuck with me forever. And be nice: it’s our anniversary.”

It’s not actually their anniversary – not the day they were married, anyway. But… it really sort of is, Jay admits to himself, as Samiel drops another kiss to his cheek.

Thirty years to the day, since he’d been standing there, free-falling and terrified, and Samiel had held out a hand and said, Will you run away with me?

There hasn’t been a moment since, not one, where Jay has regretted saying yes.

“Papa said he got us a present,” Samiel adds. “He wouldn’t tell me what it was though.”

Jay closes his eyes. “Ah.”

“‘Ah’? What do you mean, ‘Ah’?”

“Well, I may already have it.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s…”

Complicated. Difficult to explain.

“…vitrios,” Jay finishes, opening his eyes.

Against him, Samiel stills.

“Vitrios,” he repeats.

And there – there – is the sudden upswelling in his soul that Jay was expecting. It catches under his ribs; winds tight around his heart with a triumph so sweetly painful, that it makes his breath stutter in his throat. Samiel is a burning rush of light, roaring in the atoms between them, as the bands of his arms clutch Jay tighter.

“He’s letting you do this?” he demands hoarsely.

“It’s already been done,” Jay admits.

And it has been. He’d handed the block of vitrios to Venndred this morning, with strict instructions to place it in the Naos next to Samiel’s.

Vitrios is unbending; unbreakable. So when the time comes – when he and Samiel are spread stardust-thin across the galaxy and this is all that is left of them – Jay’s threnodia will sit, carved aeons-deep, with the only words that have ever truly mattered; with the only thing he has ever wanted the universe to know.

“Humans don’t –” Samiel rasps. “I mean, no one’s ever –”

“Your father made an exception.”

“You’ve already written it,” Samiel realises. “What does it –” His hands are frantic, as he spins Jay roughly around. This close he’s bewildered; triumphant. The pounding of Jay’s heartbeat is not his own, but Samiel doesn’t seem to care about the way he’s bleeding desperate, greedy delight between them. “What does it say?”

“Well.” Carefully, Jay reaches out; tucks one silver-threaded curl behind Samiel’s ear. “Not much.”

“Jason.”

Jay laughs at the growl; leans closers and presses their foreheads together. “I didn’t have long stretches of wisdom,” he admits. “And I couldn’t think of anything profound that I wanted to pass on, that might help others. I certainly didn’t have an endless narrative of triumphant deeds.”

“So?” Samiel demands, impatient.

“So,” Jay says. He clears his throat hoping, absurdly, that he’s done the right thing here. “So it actually only says one thing. The only thing, in fact.”

“Which is?”

Jay tells him.

**********

In the depths of the Naos, there are two blocks of vitrios.

One contains a careful, exacting narrative of the life of Samiel Athannus, written in High Maa-Tarekian. No detail is spared; no moment left undescribed. Covered, the vitrios stands as a testament to all that happened, in a time when there was change at the heart of the universe.

The other block is simpler.

Small. Neat. There is only one sentence written on it, in exacting Interior Circle Standard.

Because Jason Lane hadn’t needed to say anything more about his life than this. He hadn’t needed to write history, or pass down wisdom.

Three words were enough.

I loved him.

Nothing else had really mattered, compared to that.

[ladyinbooks]

So because I was super mean with the last Ficlet Friday, I promised GraveTiger an IB mermaid!AU (because, you know, it’s MerMay). But it just broke 5k, and now I’m regretting my life choices, because this could be... oh dear, I have so much I could write in this AU. So much. 😓 Like, there is a wealth of backstory I want to add in here and I can’t.

Anyway, I’ll be posting some Mermaid!AU IB either this evening or tomorrow.

[ladyinbooks]

Hey, just wanted you to know I absolutely love your writting and your books and I always get so excited when you update any of your stories 🥺!! I read IB 2 years ago and I reread it again now, and I still can't believe this masterpiece is available FOR FREE for all of us to read!! So I wanted to thank you the only way I know and I drew Jason and Samiel (I've been sketching them from time to time because they live rent free in my head adfsfd)

I hope this brights your day a little bit! All my best wishes <3

Oh my god. OH MY GOD!!!!!

@mureh This is BEAUTIFUL! Thank you! ♥️♥️♥️♥️🤗🤗 (Please forgive the emojis, I'm just trying so hard not to start screaming over here.)

Firstly, I'm so happy you like IB, and I'm honoured that you've re-read it! It's really sweet of you to say you enjoy my fics - it made me smile so much to hear you've been sketching the boys from time to time because they live in your head rent free. (Seriously, I can't stop grinning - what a lovely compliment! Thank you!)

And now I'm sorry, but actually I am going to start screaming a little bit about your lovely art...

OMG IT'S GORGEOUS! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! ♥️♥️♥️

Can I just say I love their expressions?! I love how happy and full of life they both look. I love Jay's grin and the confidence in his posture and I adore the way he's just got an arm around Samiel's waist, and a hand on his own hip. Hellooooo confidence! This is such a wonderful Jay swagger! And his build is perfect. I mean utterly, utterly perfect. This is exactly what I was thinking of when it came to Jay. Alright, he's not as tall as Samiel, but yup. He could throw him over a shoulder if he wanted to. He just exudes a wonderful sense of cheerful competence in this piece - he's there and he's in charge and it's so wonderful. And his clothes! You've captured this fantastic military feel to him, that's still slightly outside the uniform rules (which yes, 100% yes!) and it works so well for Jay.

And then Samiel. SAMIEL! I adore how he's that little bit more reserved. He's calmly competent and his expression shows it - he's got Jay, and that's all that needs to be said for him. He's quietly dangerous, in the way a dormant volcano is, and you've caught that beautifully. Oh! His hair is utterly gorgeous (and precisely the length I was thinking of when I wrote him!!!!); his skin tone is perfect and I'm going absolutely feral over the way you've got him so tightly bound up in his uniform. Yessss. Absolutely yes. (I love what you've done with his uniform - it's that perfect combination of more formal, but practical and easy to move in.)

Oh gosh, I really can't stop grinning. You'll have to take my word for it, but I'm literally sitting here smiling so much my cheeks are hurting a little bit. Your talent is phenomenal, and you've captured these two perfectly. I'm so grateful and absolutely honoured that you've taken the time to draw them.

And, well, this is my phone's wallpaper now. It had to be done so I could stare at this some more on my morning commute.

Thank you so, so much. ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

[ladyinbooks]

Still no IB!MerMay fic, because... it’s still going. Someone save me - I have spent the evening writing about pirates when I should have been working. 😭

In the meantime, have a teeny snippet:

‘Deathless’, people say of him now. ‘Abomination. He sings to the sea, and the water answers him’.

Had Amias imagined what Tremark would look like, he would have pictured someone older. Hardened. A grey beard and brawny shoulders. Maybe traces of his first death, lingering in the crags of his face and the weathered rough of his hands.

But the Drowned Man is none of these things. He’s young. Slim-hipped, with a swordsman’s shoulders and a mop of curls as bright as new-minted doubloons. The gold of his eyes gleams in the shadows of the room; the handsome angles of his face and the bronze of his skin turn him utterly beautiful, and he’s all the more terrifying because of it. He’s studying Amias with a faint, unsettling smile on the generous width of his mouth.

[ladyinbooks]

just had to let you know that I am currently thoroughly enjoying "Icarus, Burning" and that you are one of the best authors I've ever come across (and I don't just mean on ao3)

Oh my gosh, you sweetheart! Thank you! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ What a lovely message to receive this evening.

I'm so pleased you're enjoying 'Icarus, Burning' - it's very near and dear to my heart for a lot of reasons, so it makes me very happy indeed to know that you like it. 🤗

[ladyinbooks]

@etherealysis created the most gorgeous pieces of Samiel artwork. I’m not going to lie: since then, I’ve been pretty much staring at them non-stop.

However, they also got me thinking about Samiel in a high-society setting, being a politely dramatic murder boy and, well, a little ficlet happened.

So, @etherealysis this is for you (and I still can’t thank you enough for your art)!

Title: To the Death Warnings: None Summary: It’s the ten-year anniversary of the Songbird Pact, and Daimion Athannus makes the mistake of inviting his son to the celebrations...

The tenth anniversary of the Songbird Pact comes around much too fast.

Daimion, who has spent the last half a year trying to ignore the approaching festivities, finds that his week has been fully booked without anyone consulting him.

It’s probably for the best: if his assistants had let him know exactly how much he was duty-bound to do, they are clearly aware he would have fled. Hiding out at Eleusia sounds far more preferable to dealing with a host of politicians and diplomats.

So far, the only saving grace of the whole enterprise has been his personal guests.

The throne room is crowded. The high ceilings echo with the sound of quiet conversation. The marble floors have been polished to gleaming slickness, and the Lenian court has turned out in all its finery for today’s event. The humans, too, have come in their best, and the palace is a sea of opulence.

Looking over the shoulder of the diplomat who has accosted him, it takes Daimion a long moment to find who he is looking for.

It’s Kate’s hair he spots first, and it’s still as obnoxiously red as the first time he met her. She stands, towering in her heels. The dark cut of her clothes look surprisingly elegant, when he knows she much prefers comfortable practicality.

Venndred has an arm wrapped around her waist. He’s cheerfully oblivious – or wilfully ignorant – to the disapproving looks he’s getting. In contrast to his wife, he’s kept to low, neutral colours; his robes classical, even though they’re no longer the white of his order.

It makes Daimion glad to see that he hasn’t abandoned all traditions.

When Venndred had resigned – when he’d left in pursuit of a calling Daimion could not deny was a greater one – he had discovered he missed the man. Frequent visits notwithstanding, Venndred’s careful, cheerful competence as Psyke had been a steadying hand during Lenia’s turbulent transition to Daimion’s rule. He’d been a useful ally, and a friend.

So, he has missed Kate and Venndred; surprisingly so. But more than them, he has missed –

His son leans over, and whispers something in Kate’s ear. Whatever he says, it makes the pair of them grin at one another – an appalling breach of etiquette.

Samiel is dressed in his finest, today. Neck to foot in black. He had never formally resigned from the Severne order, despite being given leave to go, and Daimion had granted him special dispensation to wear the dress uniform today. He isn’t wearing a mask though, and his face is painfully bare for all to see.

The sight of his son sends a small, bittersweet ache through Daimion’s chest. He’s not a boy any more. No longer even the young, headstrong man he was ten years ago. Samiel has matured and grown; settled into his bones, and the space of his own body. There is still that mischievous spark in him – Daimion doubts it will ever leave: a legacy from Aoide – but he’s calmer.

A little kinder, perhaps.

He’s holding a glass of wine in one hand, but the other rests on the hilt of his salzon. He still stands as though he is half expecting an ambush at any moment. Daimion doubts that instinct will ever leave him. Samiel will always be on guard, protecting the thing he cares most about.

And Jason Lane doesn’t seem to notice, or to care. He never has, and something in Daimion softens at the sight of his son’s husband, accepting that protection without question.

Jason looks as well as Samiel. Neat, sharp formal wear; his hair not as much of a beacon as Kate’s, but he still attracts attention in his own way. The man has always appeared powerfully competent, and if nothing else, Daimion can respect the way he wields that competence as a weapon in turn to protect Samiel.

The pair of them orbit one another, not touching – not quite – but so intimately close, there can be no mistaking what they are. There is an easy familiarity to the way they move: Jason stepping into Samiel’s blind spot; Samiel half-turning to keep his husband in view.

It warms Daimion’s heart, to see them so.

As he watches – ignoring the oblivious diplomat who has begun chattering in front of him – he spots Kate turn. She pauses as her eyes meet Daimion’s, and from across the crowded room, she winks.

It’s a horrendous breach of etiquette. Were she anyone else, she would almost certainly be arrested on the spot. As it is, no one is paying attention, and Daimion is far too used to her antics to take any personal offence.

“We’re also considering opening up a new colony on –” Daimion’s diplomat continues, and Daimion stifles the slow-burning urge to strangle the man.

He is just about to open his mouth – just about to make excuses and remove himself – when he sees his Decime, making her way across the floor towards the little group clustered in the corner.

And this?

This is precisely what Daimion did not want happening today.

It has been ten years, and Pyrrhine Medala has never quite forgiven Samiel and Jason for snatching her victory from her. She has worked well with Daimion; has grown and matured – so much so that he is confident her rule will be strong – but he knows she will always hold a grudge against his son.

Pyrrhine is clever, and she has had time to nurse her resentment towards all four of them. Daimion doubts she would cause a diplomatic incident today of all days, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try to wound his family.

“Excuse me,” he says, over the diplomat’s chattering, and knows it’s unspeakably rude. He doesn’t give the man time to respond, just shoulders gently past him.

It is slow-going across the room, not least because he is stopped every two feet by another well-wisher, or politician, or courtier. It makes him want to scream: it’s precisely the reason he never wanted this role in the first place. He has no patience for it.

By the time he makes it over to Samiel, it is too late.

“It’s not exactly in keeping with the message we are trying to send,” Pyrrhine is saying quietly. “Perhaps it might be better if –”

Samiel’s expression is like stone. Next to him, Jason is watching with raised eyebrows, as he looks between the pair of them.

“No.”

Carefully, Pyrrhine clasps her hands together. She isn’t attracting attention, not yet, but Daimion is painfully aware that it wouldn’t take much for the focus of the entire gathering to swing in their direction.

“I’m only suggesting,” Pyrrhine says delicately, “that you remove your salzon for the duration of these celebrations.”

“No,” Samiel says again, and this time his voice is harder.

Daimion watches as his son curls a hand around the hilt of his blade, and says, “Perhaps we should take this discussion elsewhere? It might –”

Pyrrhine tilts her head. “I could ask one of our Severne to take it from you.”

It’s a goad, and they all know it. Her deliberate overruling of Daimion, and the insinuation she has the power to strip Samiel of his salzon are both gently antagonistic.

Daimion sees the way Samiel’s hand tightens on the hilt of his blade. Sees too, the way his knuckles begin to turn white with the pressure, and the slow-creeping frost in his expression.

“I,” Samiel says slowly, “would like to see them try.”

It’s not a threat. Not quite. But were he anyone else, it would certainly be enough to have him removed from the room. He knows it and Pyrrhine does too, if the way she stills is anything to go by.

“Don’t threaten me,” she says, very softly. “You will not like the outcome.”

This is the point Daimion could intervene – should intervene. But doing so is likely to attract more attention. At the moment, they are a small group holding a conversation. If he opens his mouth and gives an order, either Samiel or Pyrrhine will react badly.

Equally, he’s interested to see where this goes; to discover if Pyrrhine has any intention besides making a point. There is also a small, ill-tempered part of him that would very much like to see her come unstuck, after the rudeness of her behaviour. And if anyone is capable of making her regret it, it will be Samiel.

Jason clears his throat. “Is there a point in coming over here, Decime?” When Daimion glances at him, he shrugs ruefully. “Beyond antagonism, of course.”

“I’m not antagonising anyone,” Pyrrhine says, without looking at him. She is still staring at Samiel, and he at her; the pair of them fixed on one another. “I’m only asking if Samiel feels it is appropriate that he continues to carry –”

“I do.”

“You are not –”

“I am,” Samiel says, interrupting her a second time in a horrendous breach of etiquette.

There are murmurs of interest behind them, and Daimion winces. This debate is starting to attract attention after all, and the last thing this event needs is his heir and his son verbally brawling in public.

“My salzon is my word,” Samiel says. “My bond.” He tilts his head. “You’re not taking it from me.”

“It was your oath to a woman that no longer exists.”

“It is my oath to something far greater.”

And there it is.

Daimion nearly breaches etiquette himself, by laughing at the look of sheer frustration that flickers briefly across Pyrrhine’s face.

“You swore your oath to Deneira Callios,” she says, and although her voice is not sharp, Daimion suspects if she were anyone else it would be. “That blade is a reminder of your loyalty to a woman who is remembered as nothing more than a murderer.”

Samiel tilts his head. The beginnings of a smile lurk in the curve of his lips. It makes Daimion’s heart thump painfully in his chest. In his defiance, his son looks so much like his mother that the resemblance is uncanny.

If she could see him now, he thinks, and it only hurts a little.

“Samiel –” Jason begins.

Samiel ignores him. “My salzon is a promise,” he says to Pyrrhine. “A vow. Its service is dedicated to protecting the only thing that matters. The only thing, in fact, that you should be worried about it protecting.” His smile turns sharper. “Because if anything ever happens to Jason, you had better pray that I am already dead. Or the next time you see this blade, it will be buried in your guts.”

“Alright!” Venndred says cheerfully, startling Daimion. “I think that’s enough, don’t you?”

“A salzon shouldn’t be sworn –” Pyrrhine breaks off, and takes a deep breath. “That is not what a salzon is intended for, and you know it.”

Samiel leans forward a little. This close, he towers over her. “Very well,” he says sweetly. “If you think I’m wrong, then you go right ahead and try to take it from me.”

Just as Daimion is about to step in, help comes from an unexpected quarter.

“Wait!” Kate hisses, and when they all look at her, she places a hand on Samiel’s shoulder. “Don’t do something I’ll regret.” She leans over to pluck the glass of wine from the hand he isn’t gripping his salzon with.

He lets her, which is possibly the more surprising thing, and they all watch – Daimion despairing, Venndred amused – as she downs the whole thing in three large gulps.

“Alright,” she says when she’s finished. “Now you can kick her fucking arse.”

Daimion looks at Jason, curious. “Are you going to stop this?”

“No,” Jason says. He doesn’t seem particularly worried, watching the unfolding scene with a look of mild interest. “The Decime started it.”

“And Samiel may well finish it.”

Jason shrugs. “Perhaps you need to rein in your heir then, Most Exalted.”

He has a point. And in spite of the strong temptation to let Pyrrhine dash herself into oblivion on the rocks of Samiel’s defiance, Daimion knows that ultimately, it’s going to end up in more of a political headache than he would like.

“This event is meant to be a celebration of peace,” he says mildly. “So, I think you are right.”

“He often is,” Samiel says absently, from where he is still staring Pyrrhine down.

“Only ‘often’? I’m wounded, dearest.”

“You’ve been known to commit one or two errors, mio ades. Even you can’t be perfect.”

Kate rolls her eyes. “Oh please. Like you think he’s anything else.”

“No.” Samiel’s grin is wide, feral, and an utter breach of protocol. “You’re right: I don’t.”

“Pyrrhine,” Daimion says, and she looks at him.

Her face is impassive; her expression a mask. But she is a student, in comparison to the masterclass that was once Deneira. Daimion can see the anger in her eyes; the vengeance she has never quite managed to let go of. Samiel and Jason robbed her of her total victory, he knows. And although she is patient, she is having to wait longer than she anticipated to take formal command of Lenia.

He trusts that she wouldn’t ruin peace for the sake of her revenge. But she’s clearly hoping to at least humiliate his son.

“Severne Athannus is still sworn to the service of the throne,” Daimion says, which is, strictly speaking, true. “Asking him to relinquish his salzon when on active duty could be considered direct breach of an order from the crown.” He makes sure his expression is bland; his tone mild.

“He hasn’t been a Severne for a long time,” Pyrrhine says quietly. “You and I both know that.”

“Not even when he’s guarding the Songbird Pact?” Daimion asks. “When he’s ensuring continuation of the goodwill between humans and Lenians?”

“That’s not what he’s doing.”

“Isn’t it?” Daimion turns to his son, who is watching the conversation. Next to him, Jason is carefully neutral, but Kate is practically vibrating out of her skin with glee.

The crowd around them is also watching now, openly fascinated by the unfolding drama.

“Severne Athannus,” Daimion says, and sees Samiel flinch. “Your blade is your life. Your oath.”

“Yes, Most Exalted.”

“What is it sworn to?”

Daimion’s eyes meet his son’s. It is a moment of perfect understanding, and it makes the warmth in his chest burn a little brighter, when he sees the mischievous slant to Samiel’s smile.

I know what you are doing, it says. Thank you.

Slowly, Samiel draws his salzon.

The he turns his back on Pyrrhine and on Daimion. He ignores the horrified gasps of the courtiers around them, and drops to one knee, his robes pooling around him. Across his upturned palms, his blade is perfectly balanced; his head is bowed in picture-perfect obeisance.

“You are what I am sworn to,” he says clearly, for all to hear. “You are what I would die to protect. My life is yours; my blade is yours. Only you can choose to wield me, mio ades.”

If Jason were any other man, Daimion suspects he would probably be trying to wring his beloved’s neck right now.

As it is, he lets out a barely perceptible sigh and – ignoring the way Kate is smirking at his elbow – reaches out to rest a hand over Samiel’s. The blade is pressed between their palms, a sharp ribbon of steel, binding them together.

“And in return, I am yours,” he says calmly, loud enough for all to hear.

Daimion chances a look at Pyrrhine.

Her expression is still impassive, but the taut line of her spine says enough on its own. Resignation and irritation ooze from her, as she watches the scene.

“There,” Daimion says. “I think that should allay your concerns, Decime.”

“Quite,” she says, and the frozen chime of her voice has Daimion stifling a smile. “We are most reassured.”

Daimion takes a moment to savour the small, petty victory. Then, he brings his hands together sharply. The crack startles onlookers, making people turn to him, as Samiel discreetly climbs to his feet.

“Then I think we should proceed with dinner.”

“What an excellent idea,” Pyrrhine says. And, when Daimion offers her his arm to escort her, she rests her fingers lightly.

“I know what you are doing,” she adds, too low for anyone else to hear.

“Oh?”

“You cannot protect him forever, Daimion.”

Behind him, Daimion knows his son has wrapped an arm around his beloved’s waist. Knows too, that the pair of them will likely not be seen at dinner. He can hear Kate, cheerful and obnoxious, and Venndred’s quieter, clever voice; they blend together, those two, far better than he would have thought.

His family. His friends.                                          

Daimion pats Pyrrhine’s hand, where it is resting on his forearm.

“Oh, my dear,” he says, and he is just as quiet as her. “They have never needed my protection.”

When she turns her head a little to look at him, he acknowledges her with one raised eyebrow.

“And certainly not from you.”

[ladyinbooks]

I'm a sucker for 'Babies Ever After' so among your couples, which would want be parents and raise a child? Which would want to create a family of their own? 'Cause I can't stop imagining what would Hess and Samiel be like as Dads XD

Oooh, lovely Anon this is a great question! And I have a lot of thoughts about it!

My immediate thought was 'Samiel'. Like, not even 'Samiel and Jay', just: 'Samiel'.

I think coming from a childhood where he had practically no family at all, there would come a point where he'd seriously start thinking about kids. And wanting them. And wanting them with Jay.

Jay, I think, wouldn't have even stopped to consider the possibility of having children, and I think his initial reaction would be 'Nah'.

But then.

I think the longer they're settled on Elysium, the more Samiel embeds himself into the local community, and I think he ends up as the absolute favourite adult of the neighbourhood children. I suspect he teaches them useful things (like how to fight, or start a fire without man-made tools), alongside a general willingness to let them use him as a babysitter pretty much whenever someone wants a break. I think the kids love him because he treats them like mini adults, and the adults love him because they know their children are safe with him. After all, if anyone came near their kids with ill intent, Samiel would tear them to pieces.

And so one day, Jay wanders out into their garden, and there's Samiel with like four different kids clinging to his arms and legs (and generally using him as a climbing frame), and Jay realises that actually, it's probably time they at least considered starting a family.

Ultimately, I could see them adopting at least one Lenian and one human child.

(And then Aunty Kate and Uncle Venn would have the time of their lives spoiling them rotten. Aunty Kate in particular would just up and take them off joyriding on the Banshee, where the entire crew then take turns teaching them things like 'How to shoot someone who pisses you off', and, 'Why you should always bite people who look suspicious'. 🤣)

Hess as a dad...

Oof. This one is. Hmm. I'm utterly, utterly torn here, Anon! Part of me wants to go 'Aww, if he had kids with Dan, they'd be the safest children in the entire universe! No one would be getting past their dad, the literal Antichrist!'

The more dreadful, awful, horrible part of me is going: 'Hess would absolutely use any potential children as a weapon to ensure Dan never, ever, ever left him'. And yikes, I think that's horrendously dark. 😓

I'm genuinely torn. I don't know which scenario is more likely. I think perhaps it would depend how far along Hess is on his redemptive path...