Vesryn wasn't the type to get star-struck, or dumbfounded before heroes. His hero rode around with him in his head, after all, and they'd long since gotten used to one another.
Still, everything about Commander Lucien Drakon was quite impressive. Not in a bombastic way, either, but in the way that really mattered. The estate, or house as Lucien had referred to it was imposing without being intimidating, projecting authority without giving off the impression of an iron-handed ruler living inside. He hadn't been joking when he said the place was to be their home for a time; it felt that way almost immediately. Welcoming, secure, the household managed perfectly. Any elf living in a city knew the smell of fear, and it was entirely absent from this place. A few people naturally uneasy around well-armed strange guests, but this was a comfortable place, through and through.
Halamshiral as a whole... less so. Vesryn had only passed through once or twice on his way someplace else in Orlais, and despite the prevalence of elves here, he found it about as uncomfortable a place to be as anywhere else. Perhaps more so, excluding Val Royeaux. The smell of fear had a way of multiplying exponentially upon itself. He did not find himself with an overwhelming desire to explore, instead remaining mostly where he could train, relax, and learn what he could in preparation for the upcoming event.
The venture to Val Royeaux with Stel had been a massive boost to his confidence in matters of subtlety, but the more he thought about it, the less he felt he'd actually done anything that proved he had transferable skills for this mess. He'd spoken with elven stewards and old hahrens and hadn't managed to pick up everything that had occurred with the former. Luck, more than anything, he felt, at least on his part. They were going to need more than that from him this time.
After keeping himself in shape with training for the day, he bathed and changed his clothes, donning just a light leather jacket over his tunic, as the cold had lost its bite for the day. Running hands through his still-wet hair, he wandered through the halls, inquiring after Commander Lucien's whereabouts, and learning that he was in the garden with Stel. That worked out, then. He made his way there, announcing his presence with a knock on the door frame as he stepped outside. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
They appeared to be in the middle of nothing in particular, really. There was a small, round table between them—red iron with a thick glass panel for a tabletop—and they each reclined slightly in chairs made of the same, cushioned in white. Lucien even had his feet up on a padded footstool that matched the set. They were taking tea, from the look of it, and soaking in the early afternoon sun alongside unseasonable warmth of the day. Dressed for it, too: Lucien had discarded his cloak over the back of his chair, and Stel wore hers on her lap like a blanket. It was quite the tranquil little scene, between all that and the winter blooms surrounding them, a fountain trickling off somewhere to the left, faint chimes sounding every time the breeze stirred even a bit. Someone had planned the garden with great care for the experience of sitting in it, clearly.
Stel turned first at the sound of his voice, giving him a soft smile. But it was Lucien who spoke, dropping his feet back to the ground and inviting Vesryn over with a gesture. "Not at all. The tea just got here. Have a seat and enjoy the weather with us, if you like." There was, indeed, another chair at the table, and spare dishes enough to help himself to the tea and snacks if he so desired.
"Excellent." Vesryn flashed a smile and took a seat. It was remarkably peaceful here, he had to admit. He almost felt as though he had too much energy, that he would disturb things somehow just by being there. But he occupied himself with pouring some tea, and by the time he was taking a sip of it he'd forgotten about that. "I'm sure you've gotten many compliments since we arrived, but I'll another to the pile: you've been a wonderful host. It's been good to be able to get at least a little settled before this business in the Winter Palace begins."
He supposed it already had, years ago. They were just the latecomers, arriving for the culmination of it. But he had other things he wanted to speak about. "So, how up to date are you on our activities?"
Lucien looked wry for a moment, but he eventually accepted the compliment with a gracious nod. "It's not difficult, with such considerate guests." He paused, then, stirring a bit of sugar into his tea with a small silver spoon, which he set down at a careful tangent to his saucer a moment later. "Estella writes relatively often," he said, glancing at her a moment before returning his attention to his teacup and picking it up with his right hand. "But I was just about to ask for the latest, if there's something in particular you want me to be aware of."
"I was going to tell him about Ithilian and Amalia," Stel added, dropping a spoonful of golden honey into her own cup. "You know we ran into them in the Graves, and they came back with us. But what I hadn't told you yet is that Ithilian adopted Lia. So she's Lia Tael, officially. Might want to change that on all your paperwork." She smiled at him, obvious humor in it.
"Is she now?" Lucien sounded quite pleased, huffing at Estella's joke. "Alas, bureaucracy has a way of making everything annoying. I shall not think about that part of it for a while so that I can be purely pleased on her behalf instead." He took a sip of tea before continuing. "You said Cor and the others will be around in another day or so, yes?"
Stel nodded easily. "Donnelly and Hissrad, too, yeah."
"Shame Lia's back in the Graves, then," Lucien mused. "Or I'd have all my junior officers in one place again."
"Family reunion with all the kids?" Her eyes narrowed with mirth; she hid a smile behind the rip of her teacup.
Lucien laughed outright. "Now there's a terrifying thought," he replied in a similar tone, shaking his head.
"Sounds like something I would enjoy witnessing," Vesryn said, after he was done restraining a smile so he could keep from spilling the tea he'd just sipped. "You should've seen the Firstday celebrations we had, Lucien. I think we're not unlike a large family sometimes, ourselves. Or at least we're getting to that point. Years of what we've been up to will do that." It wasn't even just the Irregulars, he felt, though of course the relationships grew more abstract as more of the Inquisition was pulled into the mix. But down to the lowest-ranking soldier Vesryn felt there was connection in the Inquisition, the kind that most armies didn't have a hope of achieving. Maybe it had something to do with their goal, the solidarity of their cause, or the care the leaders took with their lives and well-beings. Likely it was a mix of those things.
"That it will," Lucien agreed, some curiosity filtering through his tone. "What exactly did you all get up to on Firstday?"
Stel reached for one of the light, fluffy fairy-cakes on the plate near the middle of the table. "We played capture the flag in the snow, and then had a big party. Some of us even extended the celebrations for a day and went sledding. On our shields." Settling back into her seat, she took a bite of the finger-sized pastry and smiled.
"Now that sounds like quite a lot of fun. Reminds me of impromptu horse races and watching you clean out Donnelly's coinpurse on a weekly basis." He smiled fondly when he said it, an expression Estella easily matched.
"Yeah, but dinners out were always on me, so I think we broke even."
"You know, it's a shame I didn't end up in Kirkwall somehow back when you were forming this company," Vesryn mused, imagining the possibility. "It sounds like something I very much would've enjoyed." Realistically, there was no way it would have happened. Saraya rarely directed him anywhere north of the Waking Sea in those years, and when she had it was in Orlais, typically the western end of it. There simply hadn't been any draw to Kirkwall, especially not with the troubles rumored to be bubbling up out of it in that time. "How is the city lately, have you heard? Still enjoying some much needed peace?"
Lucien raised his free hand to his chin, rubbing over his dark stubble with the heel of it. "Relatively, yes. Improving, even, in some respects. It has its own share of difficulties, as any place does, and the structure of things there was so upset by what Meredith did that in many ways, Sophia is building a brand-new state. They're Marchers, of course, and they value their independence—so they've been working on putting a force together that only answers to the city. The Lions help where they can, but for now, they are inextricably attached to me and I inextricably attached to Orlais. So you can see where they might have to help from a few paces away, so to speak." For a moment, he was silent, pouring himself a second cup of tea and putting his feet back on their stool.
"The templar issue will inevitably arise again soon, given this push. They represent the most powerful group still in the city that does not answer to the authority of the Viscountess." A breath gusted from his nose, accompanied by the clink of ceramic as he set his cup back down. He seemed to be looking at something quite distant, certainly beyond the garden and the other people in it.
Stel seemed to have an idea of what. She drew her legs up underneath her on the chair, tilting her head at him. "And how is Sophia? We write, but not as often as the two of you do, I'm sure."
"She is... very far away." There was no mistaking the melancholy in the words; his feelings about that matter were plain as day. "But that's not what you meant." He moved his eyes back to the two of them, their former clarity restored, and a slight smile in place. "She's quite well. Sends her regards, naturally. And Ashton's about as well as he can be, all things considered." A crease appeared between his brows there.
"Um." Stel hesitated there. "About that... and what happened with the Wardens. I hope... I hope you don't mind that we made that decision. It all happened in Orlais, after all, but it seemed better to deal with right then—" She cut herself off; Lucien seemed content to wait patiently until she'd finished speaking, but Stel herself was obviously not that comfortable with the subject matter.
He shook his head, waving a hand almost dismissively. "I think you did the right thing. It's probably better that it was the Inquisition, anyway. The decision needed to be made quickly, and I'm not sure how well I'd have kept my head, in the heat of that particular moment. Nostariel was..." He frowned, apparently searching for the words. "The best of us, in many ways. One of my closest friends, to be sure. But the right thing was done there—so it doesn't trouble me who did it."
"If only the fool was always the one to pay the price for their foolishness." It was honestly impossible for Vesryn to truly feel that loss as they did, as he had only known Nostariel for such a short period of time; the closest he could come was to see what it did to the people he cared most for. And it was also written plain as day. "At least the Viscountess was able to see justice done for the one most responsible."
Their relationship was obviously a deep one, between the Crown Prince and the Viscountess. Stel had told him the bare minimum of it, and it wasn't like it was a great secret or anything. The romantic choices of those in positions of great wealth or power or birth had a way of getting around, he knew. It was hardly his business to delve into Lucien's relationships, but given what he expected a prince of Orlais had to face, he hoped his experiences might have given him some useful advice to pass on. It was his reason for seeking him out, actually.
"I was hoping to get your thoughts on something, actually," he began. "I want to avoid being a detriment to our cause when the ball begins. There's a rather obvious issue that's likely to be brought up, that being the fact that Stel and I are together." The twist he put on the word 'issue' said all it needed to about how he felt towards their inevitable disagreement. "We haven't shouted it from the rooftops, but we haven't been hiding it, either, and it's the business of these nobles to know little details about everyone they're dealing with."
He offered Stel a look, hoping she was alright with him bringing up the subject. Vesryn had seen very few people she was more comfortable around than Lucien, however. "Your situation is not the same of course, but I imagine it's impossible for a prince's choices to please everyone. Admittedly, I've never had my affections criticized by anyone, certainly not Orlesian nobility, so... I'm not quite sure what to expect, or how best to face it."
Lucien didn't seem surprised, not by the information itself nor, apparently, that his advice was being sought about it. Stel sighed softly, but the appreciative look she shot Vesryn suggested she might have been considering a similar inquiry.
"I've been criticized plenty," she admitted, in a tone that suggested Lucien would know what she referred to. "Not about this kind of thing, though. It's always been... on me, so to speak. Rather than..." She pursed her lips, tracing her finger along the rim of her teacup.
"Of course." Lucien nodded slightly, leaning a bit further back in his chair. He rested his free arm over the back of it, the other still next to his cup on the table. "Well, you haven't put yourselves in the easiest position, to be sure." He smiled, a clear indication that the remark was no indictment of them. "And yes, I'm at least familiar with that. The things people will say about Sophia, or about the two of us, when I am not in earshot are..." His expression darkened for just a moment, before it passed. "Well. Unkind is far too mild, but in the right area." Likely no one dared to say much to his face, given just who he was.
He tipped his head up for a moment, watching a few winter clouds drift by overhead, thin and wispy and grey. "I can tell you one thing with certainty: however you handle it, the things that are said will be more or less the same. The disapproval will be predictable, and consistent, regardless of how you present yourselves in front of their eyes. Everyone who cares to know already knows. Everyone who disapproves already disapproves." He glanced back down, lifting his shoulders. "All that's left to decide is what your reaction to that is going to be."
Stel looked troubled, a slight pinch at the corners of her eyes. "But surely there are better and worse ways of handling things? I don't want to hide this, or make it anything other than it is, but..."
"Some will find being open unseemly. Others will recognize the courage in it." Lucien shook his head. "Nothing will be universally approved. You can't decide with those thoughts in mind. Choose what you can live with. Can you stand the idea of pretending that what you feel isn't so?"
She shook her head immediately.
Lucien smiled. "Then don't. You clearly aren't ashamed of what you feel, either of you. So don't pretend you are. Don't pretend anything. The consequences will be what they will be. But no amount of court approval is worth giving up what really matters. That much, I understand very well."
"Seems to me," Vesryn said, intertwining his fingers together, "that the approval of people who find such things unseemly isn't worth going after in the first place. It's probably for the best; honesty is really the only tactic I can pull off, to be fair." He certainly wasn't going to act like he was just a soldier for Stel to command, or her elven bodyguard. Not only was he incapable of it, but he imagined it would do little to help Stel focus as well. They needed to keep their attention focused on those unfamiliar to them, not split it by keeping up an ill-practiced charade.
"Bring on the consequences, then." Really, he didn't think much of them. They would spit their words. He knew Stel had a way of taking many things to heart, even when it was unwise to, and while Vesryn didn't know exactly how he'd react either, he believed it would be good to be there, beside her. Not behind her. "Thank you, Lucien. It's a shame Sophia couldn't be here as well. I'd love to see her answer the things these nobles say about her." Of course, they probably wouldn't say them to her face, either. Not many noblewomen earned their fame by slaying an Arishok in single combat.
Lucien chuckled, a knowing smile returning to his face. "As would I, I assure you. Perhaps someday I will." He didn't elaborate, but it was clear enough what he meant. "In any case... you've my support, whatever it be worth to you. The princely bit is a sight more useful, admittedly, but I mean mine personally as well. If nothing else, my name makes a very nice shield, at times, when the battles are fought with words. Feel free to wield it, if it serves."
"Thank you." Vesryn smiled warmly at him. "I'll use it with care."
Still, everything about Commander Lucien Drakon was quite impressive. Not in a bombastic way, either, but in the way that really mattered. The estate, or house as Lucien had referred to it was imposing without being intimidating, projecting authority without giving off the impression of an iron-handed ruler living inside. He hadn't been joking when he said the place was to be their home for a time; it felt that way almost immediately. Welcoming, secure, the household managed perfectly. Any elf living in a city knew the smell of fear, and it was entirely absent from this place. A few people naturally uneasy around well-armed strange guests, but this was a comfortable place, through and through.
Halamshiral as a whole... less so. Vesryn had only passed through once or twice on his way someplace else in Orlais, and despite the prevalence of elves here, he found it about as uncomfortable a place to be as anywhere else. Perhaps more so, excluding Val Royeaux. The smell of fear had a way of multiplying exponentially upon itself. He did not find himself with an overwhelming desire to explore, instead remaining mostly where he could train, relax, and learn what he could in preparation for the upcoming event.
The venture to Val Royeaux with Stel had been a massive boost to his confidence in matters of subtlety, but the more he thought about it, the less he felt he'd actually done anything that proved he had transferable skills for this mess. He'd spoken with elven stewards and old hahrens and hadn't managed to pick up everything that had occurred with the former. Luck, more than anything, he felt, at least on his part. They were going to need more than that from him this time.
After keeping himself in shape with training for the day, he bathed and changed his clothes, donning just a light leather jacket over his tunic, as the cold had lost its bite for the day. Running hands through his still-wet hair, he wandered through the halls, inquiring after Commander Lucien's whereabouts, and learning that he was in the garden with Stel. That worked out, then. He made his way there, announcing his presence with a knock on the door frame as he stepped outside. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
They appeared to be in the middle of nothing in particular, really. There was a small, round table between them—red iron with a thick glass panel for a tabletop—and they each reclined slightly in chairs made of the same, cushioned in white. Lucien even had his feet up on a padded footstool that matched the set. They were taking tea, from the look of it, and soaking in the early afternoon sun alongside unseasonable warmth of the day. Dressed for it, too: Lucien had discarded his cloak over the back of his chair, and Stel wore hers on her lap like a blanket. It was quite the tranquil little scene, between all that and the winter blooms surrounding them, a fountain trickling off somewhere to the left, faint chimes sounding every time the breeze stirred even a bit. Someone had planned the garden with great care for the experience of sitting in it, clearly.
Stel turned first at the sound of his voice, giving him a soft smile. But it was Lucien who spoke, dropping his feet back to the ground and inviting Vesryn over with a gesture. "Not at all. The tea just got here. Have a seat and enjoy the weather with us, if you like." There was, indeed, another chair at the table, and spare dishes enough to help himself to the tea and snacks if he so desired.
"Excellent." Vesryn flashed a smile and took a seat. It was remarkably peaceful here, he had to admit. He almost felt as though he had too much energy, that he would disturb things somehow just by being there. But he occupied himself with pouring some tea, and by the time he was taking a sip of it he'd forgotten about that. "I'm sure you've gotten many compliments since we arrived, but I'll another to the pile: you've been a wonderful host. It's been good to be able to get at least a little settled before this business in the Winter Palace begins."
He supposed it already had, years ago. They were just the latecomers, arriving for the culmination of it. But he had other things he wanted to speak about. "So, how up to date are you on our activities?"
Lucien looked wry for a moment, but he eventually accepted the compliment with a gracious nod. "It's not difficult, with such considerate guests." He paused, then, stirring a bit of sugar into his tea with a small silver spoon, which he set down at a careful tangent to his saucer a moment later. "Estella writes relatively often," he said, glancing at her a moment before returning his attention to his teacup and picking it up with his right hand. "But I was just about to ask for the latest, if there's something in particular you want me to be aware of."
"I was going to tell him about Ithilian and Amalia," Stel added, dropping a spoonful of golden honey into her own cup. "You know we ran into them in the Graves, and they came back with us. But what I hadn't told you yet is that Ithilian adopted Lia. So she's Lia Tael, officially. Might want to change that on all your paperwork." She smiled at him, obvious humor in it.
"Is she now?" Lucien sounded quite pleased, huffing at Estella's joke. "Alas, bureaucracy has a way of making everything annoying. I shall not think about that part of it for a while so that I can be purely pleased on her behalf instead." He took a sip of tea before continuing. "You said Cor and the others will be around in another day or so, yes?"
Stel nodded easily. "Donnelly and Hissrad, too, yeah."
"Shame Lia's back in the Graves, then," Lucien mused. "Or I'd have all my junior officers in one place again."
"Family reunion with all the kids?" Her eyes narrowed with mirth; she hid a smile behind the rip of her teacup.
Lucien laughed outright. "Now there's a terrifying thought," he replied in a similar tone, shaking his head.
"Sounds like something I would enjoy witnessing," Vesryn said, after he was done restraining a smile so he could keep from spilling the tea he'd just sipped. "You should've seen the Firstday celebrations we had, Lucien. I think we're not unlike a large family sometimes, ourselves. Or at least we're getting to that point. Years of what we've been up to will do that." It wasn't even just the Irregulars, he felt, though of course the relationships grew more abstract as more of the Inquisition was pulled into the mix. But down to the lowest-ranking soldier Vesryn felt there was connection in the Inquisition, the kind that most armies didn't have a hope of achieving. Maybe it had something to do with their goal, the solidarity of their cause, or the care the leaders took with their lives and well-beings. Likely it was a mix of those things.
"That it will," Lucien agreed, some curiosity filtering through his tone. "What exactly did you all get up to on Firstday?"
Stel reached for one of the light, fluffy fairy-cakes on the plate near the middle of the table. "We played capture the flag in the snow, and then had a big party. Some of us even extended the celebrations for a day and went sledding. On our shields." Settling back into her seat, she took a bite of the finger-sized pastry and smiled.
"Now that sounds like quite a lot of fun. Reminds me of impromptu horse races and watching you clean out Donnelly's coinpurse on a weekly basis." He smiled fondly when he said it, an expression Estella easily matched.
"Yeah, but dinners out were always on me, so I think we broke even."
"You know, it's a shame I didn't end up in Kirkwall somehow back when you were forming this company," Vesryn mused, imagining the possibility. "It sounds like something I very much would've enjoyed." Realistically, there was no way it would have happened. Saraya rarely directed him anywhere north of the Waking Sea in those years, and when she had it was in Orlais, typically the western end of it. There simply hadn't been any draw to Kirkwall, especially not with the troubles rumored to be bubbling up out of it in that time. "How is the city lately, have you heard? Still enjoying some much needed peace?"
Lucien raised his free hand to his chin, rubbing over his dark stubble with the heel of it. "Relatively, yes. Improving, even, in some respects. It has its own share of difficulties, as any place does, and the structure of things there was so upset by what Meredith did that in many ways, Sophia is building a brand-new state. They're Marchers, of course, and they value their independence—so they've been working on putting a force together that only answers to the city. The Lions help where they can, but for now, they are inextricably attached to me and I inextricably attached to Orlais. So you can see where they might have to help from a few paces away, so to speak." For a moment, he was silent, pouring himself a second cup of tea and putting his feet back on their stool.
"The templar issue will inevitably arise again soon, given this push. They represent the most powerful group still in the city that does not answer to the authority of the Viscountess." A breath gusted from his nose, accompanied by the clink of ceramic as he set his cup back down. He seemed to be looking at something quite distant, certainly beyond the garden and the other people in it.
Stel seemed to have an idea of what. She drew her legs up underneath her on the chair, tilting her head at him. "And how is Sophia? We write, but not as often as the two of you do, I'm sure."
"She is... very far away." There was no mistaking the melancholy in the words; his feelings about that matter were plain as day. "But that's not what you meant." He moved his eyes back to the two of them, their former clarity restored, and a slight smile in place. "She's quite well. Sends her regards, naturally. And Ashton's about as well as he can be, all things considered." A crease appeared between his brows there.
"Um." Stel hesitated there. "About that... and what happened with the Wardens. I hope... I hope you don't mind that we made that decision. It all happened in Orlais, after all, but it seemed better to deal with right then—" She cut herself off; Lucien seemed content to wait patiently until she'd finished speaking, but Stel herself was obviously not that comfortable with the subject matter.
He shook his head, waving a hand almost dismissively. "I think you did the right thing. It's probably better that it was the Inquisition, anyway. The decision needed to be made quickly, and I'm not sure how well I'd have kept my head, in the heat of that particular moment. Nostariel was..." He frowned, apparently searching for the words. "The best of us, in many ways. One of my closest friends, to be sure. But the right thing was done there—so it doesn't trouble me who did it."
"If only the fool was always the one to pay the price for their foolishness." It was honestly impossible for Vesryn to truly feel that loss as they did, as he had only known Nostariel for such a short period of time; the closest he could come was to see what it did to the people he cared most for. And it was also written plain as day. "At least the Viscountess was able to see justice done for the one most responsible."
Their relationship was obviously a deep one, between the Crown Prince and the Viscountess. Stel had told him the bare minimum of it, and it wasn't like it was a great secret or anything. The romantic choices of those in positions of great wealth or power or birth had a way of getting around, he knew. It was hardly his business to delve into Lucien's relationships, but given what he expected a prince of Orlais had to face, he hoped his experiences might have given him some useful advice to pass on. It was his reason for seeking him out, actually.
"I was hoping to get your thoughts on something, actually," he began. "I want to avoid being a detriment to our cause when the ball begins. There's a rather obvious issue that's likely to be brought up, that being the fact that Stel and I are together." The twist he put on the word 'issue' said all it needed to about how he felt towards their inevitable disagreement. "We haven't shouted it from the rooftops, but we haven't been hiding it, either, and it's the business of these nobles to know little details about everyone they're dealing with."
He offered Stel a look, hoping she was alright with him bringing up the subject. Vesryn had seen very few people she was more comfortable around than Lucien, however. "Your situation is not the same of course, but I imagine it's impossible for a prince's choices to please everyone. Admittedly, I've never had my affections criticized by anyone, certainly not Orlesian nobility, so... I'm not quite sure what to expect, or how best to face it."
Lucien didn't seem surprised, not by the information itself nor, apparently, that his advice was being sought about it. Stel sighed softly, but the appreciative look she shot Vesryn suggested she might have been considering a similar inquiry.
"I've been criticized plenty," she admitted, in a tone that suggested Lucien would know what she referred to. "Not about this kind of thing, though. It's always been... on me, so to speak. Rather than..." She pursed her lips, tracing her finger along the rim of her teacup.
"Of course." Lucien nodded slightly, leaning a bit further back in his chair. He rested his free arm over the back of it, the other still next to his cup on the table. "Well, you haven't put yourselves in the easiest position, to be sure." He smiled, a clear indication that the remark was no indictment of them. "And yes, I'm at least familiar with that. The things people will say about Sophia, or about the two of us, when I am not in earshot are..." His expression darkened for just a moment, before it passed. "Well. Unkind is far too mild, but in the right area." Likely no one dared to say much to his face, given just who he was.
He tipped his head up for a moment, watching a few winter clouds drift by overhead, thin and wispy and grey. "I can tell you one thing with certainty: however you handle it, the things that are said will be more or less the same. The disapproval will be predictable, and consistent, regardless of how you present yourselves in front of their eyes. Everyone who cares to know already knows. Everyone who disapproves already disapproves." He glanced back down, lifting his shoulders. "All that's left to decide is what your reaction to that is going to be."
Stel looked troubled, a slight pinch at the corners of her eyes. "But surely there are better and worse ways of handling things? I don't want to hide this, or make it anything other than it is, but..."
"Some will find being open unseemly. Others will recognize the courage in it." Lucien shook his head. "Nothing will be universally approved. You can't decide with those thoughts in mind. Choose what you can live with. Can you stand the idea of pretending that what you feel isn't so?"
She shook her head immediately.
Lucien smiled. "Then don't. You clearly aren't ashamed of what you feel, either of you. So don't pretend you are. Don't pretend anything. The consequences will be what they will be. But no amount of court approval is worth giving up what really matters. That much, I understand very well."
"Seems to me," Vesryn said, intertwining his fingers together, "that the approval of people who find such things unseemly isn't worth going after in the first place. It's probably for the best; honesty is really the only tactic I can pull off, to be fair." He certainly wasn't going to act like he was just a soldier for Stel to command, or her elven bodyguard. Not only was he incapable of it, but he imagined it would do little to help Stel focus as well. They needed to keep their attention focused on those unfamiliar to them, not split it by keeping up an ill-practiced charade.
"Bring on the consequences, then." Really, he didn't think much of them. They would spit their words. He knew Stel had a way of taking many things to heart, even when it was unwise to, and while Vesryn didn't know exactly how he'd react either, he believed it would be good to be there, beside her. Not behind her. "Thank you, Lucien. It's a shame Sophia couldn't be here as well. I'd love to see her answer the things these nobles say about her." Of course, they probably wouldn't say them to her face, either. Not many noblewomen earned their fame by slaying an Arishok in single combat.
Lucien chuckled, a knowing smile returning to his face. "As would I, I assure you. Perhaps someday I will." He didn't elaborate, but it was clear enough what he meant. "In any case... you've my support, whatever it be worth to you. The princely bit is a sight more useful, admittedly, but I mean mine personally as well. If nothing else, my name makes a very nice shield, at times, when the battles are fought with words. Feel free to wield it, if it serves."
"Thank you." Vesryn smiled warmly at him. "I'll use it with care."