slytherynn | Closed: at the mercy of the fae

[ He has the self-restraint, at least, to not tsk at the arrogant, languid casualty of the prince. All the same, always. It isn't enough to wield power, never. Have to show it off, have to show how they are above its rules.

Boring, really.

And he isn't going to be told what to do. Not even by the likes of some being that could ostensibly end him. Wouldn't be the first time he faced those odds. ]

Your halls are full of countless treasures. I disturbed nothing of value, damaged nothing, hurt no one. Why waste your time with me? Surely a prince of the court has better things to do.

Indeed, your little misadventure has roused me from a sound sleep, which I am quite annoyed over. However, I suppose you’re lucky you got caught in my Court, since annoying a Fae ruler typically isn’t a killable offense around here.

[ A pause, as he takes another bite of apple, still studying the human curiously. ]

Although I’ve been known to make exceptions to my own rules. Especially when the perpetrator is lying to my face. [ Now he’s the one to click his tongue chidingly. ] You did not prepare yourself very well for this folly of yours at all, did you? I assumed it common knowledge among your kind that we don’t suffer lies and untruths.

[ They may twist and contort the truth until they convince you the sky is green and snow is hot, but they will never outright lie. And they also have a sixth sense for when someone’s word is false. It tastes bitter on his tongue and he makes a face as he sets aside his apple, appetite ruined for the moment.

Maybe he really should rethink that rule… ]

Edited 2024-01-23 23:43 (UTC)

[ Ah yes, he'd disturbed the noble's sleep. How terrible. He was as arrogant as the boys Balthier remembered from school all those years ago, when he'd kept quiet that he was there on favors and scholarship while they spoke poorly of the common people. No matter his mother was a commoner and worth ten of them.

Not that it reaches his face. She's private. That life was private. Had been so long he would struggle to share it even if he wanted to. Which he pointedly didn't. He wonders if it's the magic of this place, stirring it up. Finding his vulnerabilities. A good defense, all told. ]

If you wanted to kill me, you wouldn't be here in person, and I'd already be dead.

[ If the Prince wants to eat an apple while he threatens the pirate, then Balthier will examine his nails while he bats it back. That was the thing, with these types. He was safer being interesting than being rattled.

He gives no indication he's listening intently, rolling the information around. ]

Ah, so that one is true. Fascinating. But I didn't lie. I took nothing you place any real value on, or it would have been harder to reach. I was truthful that I damaged nothing and hurt no one, so either your spell isn't working, or I've somehow lied without realizing it.

[ If he'd hurt anyone, it had been himself, but if that was how the spell worked, it wasn't much use. One for twisting the truth, though, he wonders how honest the Prince is being. There must be some other interest here, to show up personally.

He knows he ought to be more concerned. Fae have magicks and tempers humes and even Viera don't. But -- he has his own sixth sense, for those who would do anything to get their way. It's a terror he faced much too young and much too long. Those warning bells aren't going off, which means he has a decent chance of talking his way out of this. And anything better than death, he can figure out how to have changed.

Fran, however, is absolutely never going to let him out of her sight again. He was supposed to be lounging in some hot spring while she visited her sister. ]

Ahh, but Fae are as jealous of their treasures as any dragon.

[ The Prince sets his apple aside and pushes himself to his feet once more. Still casually nonchalant, he strolls towards the pirate where he leans against the wall, trying to look innocent - or indolent, either way. He presses a hand to the wall beside the human’s head while his other catches the man by the jaw, tipping his head back. Forcing him to meet his gaze. That slow, lazy smile is still very much in view.

The Fae didn’t seem overly bothered by this intrusion, despite his words. Or perhaps there was something more that interested him. Still, he gripped the man’s chin, holding him in place, even as he lets his gaze drop to where he knew an object of his possession was currently clutched. It sang to him, as did all things that belonged in this realm. ]

It is not for you to judge what I might value or what I might not.

[ That, he suspected, was true. Just like his father. He’d suspected, for a long time, that his father may be one of him. His earnest apologies to the Fae. His father was worse.

The Prince’s hand comes to the wall beside him, and he jerks against the hand on his chin, lip curling to a snarl before he can smooth it. This didn’t matter. It was just a game. Harmless. But he loathed it, from every corner of his being, having any of his choice stripped.

He doesn’t want to give in, doesn’t want to lose. It’s what makes him such a good pirate. But Fran has warned him a thousand times that treasure is not always worth the cost, and she’s right. Even as his fingers twitch and he wants nothing more than to spit in this Fae’s eye.

But if he can’t get it out, then his father can’t, and so isn’t this mission still worthwhile?

He sighs through his nose, holding up his hand, palm open. ]

There are feral, ruthless humes trying to crack this magic. If it falls into their hands, I worry what they will do with it. Probably safest with you.

[ Smooth flattery, a charming smile. But his eyes are cold, a warning in them. It’s safe here, but there are others like it. ]

If they succeed, they could bind any living creature to their will. Even you. Fine if you don’t want to find a counter spell, though.

What makes you think I don’t have one in place already?

[ Sylvain chuckles as he plucks the object up from the pirate’s palm and examines it in the light.

He brings it to his lips, whispers a word to it in a tongue Balthier won’t recognize, and there’s a shimmer of gold magic that washes over its surface before fading to dormancy once more. A spell he wouldn’t have detected until just this moment, despite all the care he likely took.

The Fae’s gaze comes back to his with a look of amusement in his golden eyes. ]

I’m well aware there are those that lust after this, with the intent to do harm. It’s why I’ve left it so easy to find. Should anyone with ill-intent in their heart touch this, the wards protecting it will activate and the wielder will be no more. [ A sharp smile as he gives it a playful little flip in the air before catching it again. ] You, my pretty little thief, are a very fortunate human.

[ Which might also explain why the Prince is treating this particular crime much lighter than he would have otherwise. He was intrigued by this human, who’d broken all the way in here and yet hadn’t fallen into the deadliest trap he had set. It made him suspect that the man’s answer skated closer to the truth than he was probably comfortable with.

Then again, only a fool or a hero would try to steal something from a Fae Prince. And both typically proved to be a source of endless entertainments. ]

[ Balthier's eyes narrow as the Prince takes the small coin-like glyph from his hand, holding the worst of his tongue. ]

What makes me think you don't is that I've seen this magic being tested out there.

[ He nods, vaguely, back to the hume realms. Ivalice's skies, he hates that smug grin. A man who thinks he's seen and knows everything. Fool.

And then his lip does curl into a grimace of distaste. Anger is easier than shame. This information is harmless, perhaps, but he does not want the Fae to have it nonetheless. Objective truth, or as close as one can get, to the fact that no, he had no intent to use this. He was not a danger, not on this front.

It leaves him feeling naked, weak, disrobed of any illusion of not caring. He's 15 again. A moronic bleeding heart who can't stop getting his own hand burnt for helping. ]

What if some poor sap like me, pure of heart and oh so dashing and brave, were tricked into stealing from you?

[ His father wasn't above that. It was one of the reasons Balthier had decided to come. Better him than some story-filled idiot lusting after doing good in the world; goodness was imperfect, and it cost a whole damned lot. ]

[ The Fae prince shrugs before stepping back, lightly juggling the glyph from one hand to the other, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Even if he was watching the human intently at the same time. ]

Then said poor sap would have picked it up, nice as you please, and likely got himself caught just the way you did when my Hall sensed you. On the off-chance he did make it out with his prize, he’d still be protected. His employer, however, likely does not share the same innocent intentions and that is where he’d return the treasure to. A job is a job, after all. And the spell does not end just because it is removed from my Hall.

The moment someone with ill-intent or the intent to use its power comes into contact with it, the wards would still activate, ending the threat and… [ There’s a flash as the glyph disappears from one of the prince’s hands and immediately reappears in his other, ] it would return home, it’s task accomplished.

So tell me, human. Were you stealing my little toy to give to one of those types, or to keep it from their hands? Since we’ve established already that you have no interest in it for yourself.

[ A spell that is discerning. That wasn't something he'd calculated for, though clearly Draklor was either getting around it, or had found one that wasn't so guarded.

But he still scowls, because the Prince is showing off, and he thinks his annoyance is probably amusing at best, so why hide it? ]

My intention was to keep it safe, but had I known it could kill the holder for ill-intent, I may well have delivered it after all.

[ There's a lie in it, one he doesn't mean but recognizes as soon as it leaves his tongue. Because if he's going to kill his father, he's going to do it with his own hands.

He meets the Prince's gaze this time, sighing. ]

Save your Fae magic. I want to kill that one myself, alright? I only meant to give it to my Viera partner to hide it.

[ Only truth in that. ]

[ He picks up on that lie, faint as it is, but before he has the chance to question it, the human is correcting it himself, and there lies the real truth of it.

Interesting. Every aspect of this human is interesting. He wants to know more. It’s been a long time since someone has piqued his interest like this. What made this one so different?

Mercurial, his plans shift again as he gives a low chuckle and steps back, gesturing for the human to follow him. ]

Come, sit with me. I want to know about these humans who are abusing fae magics in your lands. This is the first word of it that has reached my ears and I would know more of it.

[ He wanders back to the long feasting table and sets the glyph down, only to reach for a bottle of rich red wine and pour them both a glass. ]

[ It's not compulsory magic, but it's not much better; he has no real choice. Still, he takes a seat. This conversation, at least, is worthwhile. ]

Draklor Laboratory, in Archades. They're testing spells to bond hume spirits to glyphs. So far, the victims are dying within a few days, but the magic is clearly based on the glyph bindings, and network tells me they have at least one glyph from the same era as that.

[ The wine, though, he eyes with suspicion. ]

I do not wish to offend you, but I also do not wish to partake in this and end up trapped in your hill for a hundred years. What will happen if I drink this?

Nothing at my table will harm you, human.

[ An open ended statement, but a truthful one, at least. Although some of that might depend on your definition of ‘harm’. Still, he waves away that concern with a casual flick of his fingers, even as he draws forth a platter of fruit and sweet biscuits to accompany the wine. Fae delicacies, ones not found in the human world. ]

And you have my word that there’s nothing in the food or drink that will trap you here in my court. For any length of time. As for what will happen to you - I suppose that depends on how well you can hold your wine, does it not? [ A sly smirk, almost a challenge in the glint of mischief in his gaze as he pops a berry in his mouth and then leans back to sip from his wine. Showing that it is safe to drink, in case that was his next question. ]

Now tell me what you know about this Draklor.

[ He narrows his eyes, considering the words carefully. Fae can't lie. But there are always tricks.

Nothing to harm him. Nothing to trap him here. And he has no trouble holding liquor. He runs it through his mind a few times. ]

And if I were foolish enough to decline your hospitality? [ But he does curl one hand around the stem of the glass, indicating he's only asking. A further good show of faith as he answers the question. ]

Too much. I grew up in those halls, and naively thought it would be shut down, not further funded by the new Emperor. They have always sought out ancient magics, though to be myth or too deadly for humes to use, and they are not discerning in the tests they'll use to unlock the secrets.

[ The Prince’s lips curve into a smirk as he chuckles. ] Offending a Fae by refusing their generous hospitality might get you trapped here far longer than a mere hundred years, my pretty little mortal. I doubt you want that.

[ But he listens to that explanation, humming thoughtfully as he drums his fingers atop the table and pops another berry in his mouth before sliding the platter in the human’s direction in silent offering. A frown briefly flits across his lips. ]

And what do they seek, in playing with these magics that are not theirs? Do they have a goal, beyond curiosity of the forbidden?

[ Yes, well, he was concerned about that, but he watches carefully which the Prince selects from the platter. Safest, not that anything here is safe. His only real goal is to make out neither dead nor bound.

He takes a berry, raising a brow in what small act of defiance he'll risk, and pops it in his mouth. Rich, ripe, complex. He refuses to admit that it's excellent, because it is all fake. Games and enchantments and tricks.

He continues talking, even as he scans his mind and body for any reaction. ]

My -- informants tell me the lead scientist has a penchant for knowledge for knowledge's sake. He's always had a desire to rise above the constraints of being human, make himself equal to fae or god. He's too narcissistic to worry about the consequences.

The Emperor wishes to expand his territory, and funds the Laboratory under the condition the Empire use any technology developed.

[ Satisfied the berry has done nothing, he lifts the wine, tipping it lightly toward his host, then takes a small swig. It's excellent and he has to resist rolling his eyes. Of course it is, like it's matched itself to his palette, drawing him to drink more. Even if it only wine, he does not wish to lose his faculties. ]

So, you see, excellent people to have their hands in things they shouldn't.

[ There’s more to that explanation than the human’s giving him, he senses, but he doesn’t press just yet. He has time. And as the man indulges in the wine and the fruit, he just takes another casual sip, more than content enough to let the magic do half the work for him.

No, there was nothing in the wine or the food that would trap him here, or harm him. Well. Depending on your definition of ‘harm’, he supposed. The wine would merely do what all alcohol did - lower inhibitions, lower resistances, open the man’s mind to more suggestions and nudging - but Fae wine would make that more potent by a hundredfold. Even after only a few sips.

The berries, though? They were a specialty of his court. One much sought after by many of the others. Their sweetness could stir the blood, entice the body. Awoke a hunger for pleasure, for touch, for taste. The man had only indulged in one so far, but that would be enough to start the process and with the wine in his system it wouldn’t be difficult to combine the effects of the two to get what he wanted. To learn what he needed.

And then deicide what to do with this fascinating little human who had stumbled so neatly into his clutches.

For now, though, he just muses over a sip of his wine before prodding for more knowledge on these humans that had Balthier so worried. ]

And you say they’ve already been working to bind human wills with these glyphs? How so?

[ Something is off. He doesn't think it's the food; he still feels the same. But the Prince is being so...hospitable. No games, not deals, no teasing. That isn't right. There's something here he doesn't see.

He watches the Prince lift the wine again, again only sipping, and this time he notices strong hands, smooth skin. Fae, of course, did not show signs of their strength or exertion. His gaze drifts back to the plate, tongue curling slightly at the memory of the ripened flesh, the burst as he bit in. He frowns. No, he doesn't want another, not if his mind is starting to want like that. How little could he partake and not offend his host?

The wine is less concerning, so he mirrors a small sip of that. Wine, at least, he could read the effects of, and it would take at least half a glass before it started to do anything, even strong and smooth like this. ]

It's your magic, isn't it? [ Maybe too cheeky, but please, he doesn't want to be talked down to. ] Or does that one predate you all? The scholarship never agreed. The spell, legend says, gives the bound person the strength of gods or fae or monsters, but in return, they must do the bidding of the holder. Some versions even trap them inside, like the djinn from farther south.

That would be a very concerning thing for a military to get hold of, don't you think? Especially when the stories say it worked on fae and hume alike.

Concerning indeed. [ Sylvain just hums thoughtfully, fingers drumming on the table again as he considers what magics the humans could have gotten their hands on. ]

And you say that as if I should be intimately familiar with it. I am not. Fae magic is different - not only within every court, but in every Fae that wields it. Intent means a great deal when interacting with out magic, after all.

[ Something he’s sure the human will pick up on eventually. Maybe. But he does seem a clever sort. ]

This, for instance, [ He holds up the glyph as an example ] was not made by a Fae of my Court. It was merely entrusted to us for safekeeping. But just because I possess it, and because I understand its abilities and limitations, it doesn’t mean I can wield it as my own.

[ This time the arch of his brows is not remotely intentional, and his tongue moves faster than his mind can reflect that it's not a wise idea. ]

That much danger and you aren't concerned the humans are near cracking it? Either you are self-important fools, or you are too arrogant to realize the harm humans can do. It would have been safer with me; Fran and I could have found a way to sabotage their research.

[ And then he scowls, burying his face in his wine, even if he's careful to only take a small sip. Something was wrong. Something to loosen the tongue, perhaps? He felt hot with embarrassment. He hadn't spoken so recklessly in years, and he knew the risks.

But it had felt good too. Why should he watch his tongue? Why should he tiptoe around people who weren't worth a tenth of what he was? He'd made who he was, earned his reputation, worked hard for every skill and whispered tale and bit of loot on his ship. He was so tired of deferring to people who thought they were clever and important and beautiful.

The Prince was beautiful. Fuck him and that grinning face. Pretty men were the worst of the lot. ]

[ He’s flattered, Balthier. Tell him more about how pretty you find him to be.

But for the moment he just gives a low chuckle, even if that seems to just give further proof to the human’s words. ]

Oh, trust me, I’m well aware of the harm humans can do. I have seen far too much of it to doubt that. However, I’m not concerned that they’ll acquire my glyph after the effort I’ve gone through. And as for the one they have…

[ He pauses to take another sip of wine and for the first time something sharp and dangerous flicks through those golden eyes. The first glimpse of the predator the Fae can be, when they want to. When they’re not hiding it behind polite masks and the thin veneer of civility. ]

Now that I know of it, that will be dealt with as well.

[ His shoulders relax a from his ears, careful posture settling into something more comfortable and even tired. Relief.

Not a thing he'd normally let such a powerful stranger see, not without calculation. ]

Then maybe this whole mess was worth it. Though you shouldn't just kill him. He deserves some suffering for all he's caused.

[ Anger, metallic and bitter, a cruelty that he hates lurks in him, because he inherited it from his father, and while it's only ever reared it's head toward those who abuse their power, he's terrified it goes deeper, that if he ignites it, it wouldn't stop; just like Cidolfus.

But right now, it feels good to let it out, and without realizing it, he reaches for another berry or two, pressing them between his lips as his gaze is unfocused in far off thought. ]

You're toying with me [ He says suddenly, vision snapping back, and this time when he looks at the Prince's face, his eyes skirt over the slope of bones, the curl of hair, the pretty, terrifying predatory eyes. Eyes like Fran's. Fran who he loves like something more than a sister but not quite as a lover, even if they've lain together.

Why is he thinking of that? ] What is it you're waiting for? I won't sprout wings or start dancing, you know. Even less likely to burst into repentance or groveling.

[ He has no sense how far gone his filter is, thoughts he's kept private so long he often can't voice things even if he wishes too pouring out like breathing. ]

I’ll take that under advisement then, pet.

[ He chuckles as he takes another measured sip of wine. Watches as the human pops another handful of berries in his mouth. Even better.

He doesn’t miss how the human’s gaze has started to drink him in in an all new way. Not exactly how one would size up a threat at all - the human’s drinking in far more than that now and it just has his lips curving again in that slow, knowing smile. ]

Maybe I am. You’re a very interesting little mouse for me to have caught so late at night. Not what I would have expected. Who said I’m waiting for anything? Maybe I’m just enjoying your unexpected responses to all of this and figuring out your next one.

[ He bristles at that, the scowl coming transparently. ]

I am no one’s pet, and in the hypothetical scenario in which I was, I certainly would not be a mouse.

[ His eyes narrow, and now he is clearly taking stock of his host. ]

If I were a mouse I wouldn’t have caught your attention. You like curious things. Wonderful. Even to the Fae I’m an exotic diversion.

[ Theres real venom in it, but not at the Prince. This is a much older wound, one freshly tender as memories of his father have been stirred. ]

[ Ohhh, that seemed to have pressed some unintentional buttons. Even more interesting.

Chuckling still, he leans across the table in a movement too swift for the human to predict - or evade, as he reaches out and catches him by the jaw, holding him in place. His thumb slides over berry-reddened lips with a thoughtful hum, leaning in close enough that his warm breath teases against the man’s skin. ]

I didn’t mean it as an insult, pet, and you’re certainly not demure enough to ever pass for a mouse. It was just the easiest comparison to go by in relation to catching you. And while I can’t argue that you aren’t exotic in your uniqueness, diversion isn’t the right word for you either.

Are you saying you don’t like curious things, as well? Your mind is fascinatingly sharp. For a human.

[ He snarls at his face being caught and held, even if the thumb at his lips sends a different kind of heat through him. He will not give the satisfaction of being attracted. That's a lesson he learned a long time ago. ]

Then stop calling me pet. I belong to no one, and barbed compliments do little to tame me.

[ Even if images are threatening to form behind his eyes. What would the Prince do to tame him? Would he try to break Balthier, or stop just short and shower him with praise? Both offended him. And both made heat simmer in his stomach. ]

I like things that know what they are, and do not beg for the attention of an audience.

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