Felix Caelus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
conjuredskies) wrote2017-01-05 11:19 pm
conjuredskies) wrote2017-01-05 11:19 pm
Entry tags:
Vita Nova (for smartass_captain)
It’s taken a great deal of effort and no small subterfuge to obtain the right co-ordinates. But at long last it’s done, and when Felix and Jim appear it’s beneath the clear blue skies and on the gentle green grass of central Cyrodiil. They’re in a low hollow, surrounded by hillocks that block them from view, though atop one is a small circular structure of worn white columns. The air is cool, but much milder than in Skyrim this time of year. Felix draws a deep breath and turns to Jim with a smile, gesturing toward one of the hills. He’s out of uniform and wearing his own leathers for this trip - it simplifies things.
From the top, he already knows, there’s an excellent view of the grassy slopes stretching down to the shores of Lake Nibenay, its vast waters stretching out to the horizon both left and right… and beyond that, seeming equally vast, the towering white walls of the Imperial City, shadowing the tiny isles and the full-masted ships that ply the waters around it. Only one building rises above those walls: the shining spindle of the White-Gold Tower, impossibly tall from this angle. There’s a road below, following the general line of the shore, and even from a distance the sound of horses and carts and chatting travelers can be heard. It takes a lot of traffic to keep the heart of an Empire beating.
“Welcome to the Imperial City,” Felix says softly.
From the top, he already knows, there’s an excellent view of the grassy slopes stretching down to the shores of Lake Nibenay, its vast waters stretching out to the horizon both left and right… and beyond that, seeming equally vast, the towering white walls of the Imperial City, shadowing the tiny isles and the full-masted ships that ply the waters around it. Only one building rises above those walls: the shining spindle of the White-Gold Tower, impossibly tall from this angle. There’s a road below, following the general line of the shore, and even from a distance the sound of horses and carts and chatting travelers can be heard. It takes a lot of traffic to keep the heart of an Empire beating.
“Welcome to the Imperial City,” Felix says softly.
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The gift his father died to give him?
He's spent it picking fights and breaking laws. Pissing off his mother's new suitors and polite society alike. Cheated the Kobayashi Maru and ruining every good thing he's ever had. Everything but the Enterprise.
And Felix.
The lights of the lanterns catch on the Imperial's dark hair and eyes, giving his profile a warm glow that Jim allows himself to be swept up in admiring while they make their way to food. He's opened his home to Jim. His family. His way of life. What Jim has done to deserve this, he cannot possibly say. Not when he's hidden things from Felix, lied about his past and so much more. But here they are, all the same.
With Felix's knowledgeable help, Jim soon has a mostly full plate and (more importantly to him) a large mug of beer to enjoy with it. He watches Felix's family and tries his best to put his own from his mind, for now. It's rude to his guests, for one.
"Are we shushing the pissing or the Thalmor part of that sentence? Because regardless, i would pay to see whatever this is."
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"Thalmor," he answers automatically, and then his expression changes as he realizes. Ah. Shit. Much lower, "I didn't explain the Thalmor..."
Blast. He'd hate to spoil Jim's dinner but this needs to be addressed. Enough so that Jim knows what not to say, anyway. Felix places a hand on the captain's back and guides him away from the crowd, to the shadows beneath a lantern-hung tree. It's on a bit of a hillock so they can get a good view of the festivities while they eat... and talk. The others give Felix a bit of an exasperated look - how could you not give your boyfriend the Talk, really? - but follow along and sit nearby, exchanging rumors about which performers they should look for and when the fireworks will begin.
"So," Felix begins, clearly deciding how much to say. "I've mentioned the Great War that happened here, right?"
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It feels like they're apart from all of that now.
"You have." Short, to the point. He's thinking back on everything he's seen since they approached the city. It won't be more than a few seconds before his eyes narrow. "Those robed people at the front of the ceremony. That's who you're talking about. What did they do?"
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"They invaded," he says quietly. "This was all a few years before I was born, of course. They swept up from the south and took or besieged almost every town in Cyrodiil. The Emperor was forced to abandon the Imperial City itself." There's a pang in his voice at that - he wasn't born here, wasn't born at all when it happened, and yet an echo of the pain and shock has been inculcated in him with every tale he's heard of the event.
"The Eighth Legion stayed behind," he adds a little more softly. "To defend the city and cover the Emperor's retreat. They died fighting to the last man." He looks up at the towering wall beyond the parkland, pristine as moonstone beneath the moons and dotted with distant torches. "My aunt Arvenna died on one of these walls." He sips the cup of hot wine in his hand. "The Thalmor sacked the city and slaughtered most of the people. They occupied it for a year before the Emperor was able to gather enough legions to retake the city and drive them out of Cyrodiil. After that, they agreed to a peace treaty. One that outlawed the worship of the Empire's patron god."
Felix doesn't easily incline toward anger. Jim knows this by now. But he also knows enough to recognize the coiled, venomous thing beneath the Imperial's deliberately cool and calm voice. Felix despises these people in a way he does no-one else. Perhaps even more than he realizes consciously. He can't hide it here, speaking of these things. Not from Jim.
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"It's not a treaty if they still hold power over you and tell your people what they can and cannot do. I know you and your brother. No god the Imperials worship would be one of devastation and suffering. And the gods..they're important here. Not just some vague belief that may or may not exist. Tell me, does the Empire get a say in what the Thalmor do? They don't, do they? That is no peace treaty. You're effectively a colony. They own you. Or think they do, at any rate."
Jim can't believe this. All the cheer and pleasantries among these people, all the while living under the rule of some other species and for what? Because they had the stones to stand up to them and take their home back?
"And everyone is just...fine with it. Letting that be the state of affairs."
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"It's not like that," he protests. "Not... not completely. Neither side was able to keep fighting, that's why we needed the treaty. We can't afford to start another war yet, but neither can they. They can't just push the Emperor around." They just... have the stronger position at the bargaining table, and everyone with half a brain knows it.
"Like the ban on Talos-worship. The Empire barely enforced it for years. Sure, the big chapels had to close, but nobody was arresting priests or knocking on doors to see who had a household shrine. Even less if you lived out in the provinces.. Not until the rebellion in Skyrim gave the Thalmor leverage to demand more powers." His mouth twists like the name leaves a bad taste of its own, and thinking of exactly what the Thalmore have done with their free hand sickens him, makes him deflate before he speaks again.
"Nobody's fine with it, Jim. We just... can't change it, yet."
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Jim's fingers dig into the fabric of Felix's tunic, a turbulent storm of emotion in his eyes. And there's nothing he can do to help. Well, a lie. There's plenty he could do but it would ruin this world forever if he did. Whatever path this world would have been on, he would be altering it. And for a terrible moment Jim doesn't care. But he recovers, composure back in place after only a moment of outburst.
"Look at me. I'm sorry I asked. Just...let's just enjoy what we have, here. Your emperor is putting on a brave face and celebrating in spite of your people's oppressors. I just...I want...We can talk about them later. They don't get to own this night too. This belongs to you and your people."
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"To us," he agrees softly. He leans closer, drinking in Jim's presence. The reassurance of his support, his sympathetic anger. If he's spoiled the evening a little, it almost feels worth it. "You were right to ask. You needed to know. I should have talked to you about it before, but..." He shakes his head. "I didn't want to get you mixed up in it. They aren't your enemies to worry about.
"For now, you're right. Let's enjoy the food and the shows. And then, if you're still in the mood, we can take a couple of those kites for a test flight..."
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Jim pulls Felix close, hands moving from Felix's arms to his back and pressing him against Jim. Felix is slightly larger than he is, but Jim can support his weight. For a minute at least. He touches his head to the side of Felix's and breathes his promises into the Imperial's ear.
"Your enemies are my enemies. Your struggles are mine. I'm here for you." For now and in the future. And for once, Jim isn't afraid of this notion. If there's one thing he's good at, it's fighting for a cause.
"There's plenty to enjoy." He nods against Felix again and sighs. "Don't worry for now. I'm here for you."
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But that's for another night. Here and now, he has Jim and he has his family and the Empire stands strong. None could harm them. He relaxes in Jim's arms and breathes in the sweet smells of home.
There's a fanfare from the city's inner walls, then, drawing everyone's attention in the direction of the White-Gold Tower in time for the fireworks to start. Tamriel has no holograms or lasers or the technology that Jim's people do - but they've been practicing their fireworks for a very long time, and there's more than a little illusion magic enhancing the display. The sky is soon alight with ribbons and starbursts and fountains of all colors - and then whales and ships and eagles, auroras and spriggans and minotaurs. There's a particularly good bit where they outline the symbols for all twelve major constellations in order, starting with the Ritual and ending with the Thief.
And dragons, of course. Those are the recurrent theme. Stylized creatures, it's true, little like the predatory lifeforms that menace Skyrim. But the Imperial pyromancers make sure to have flames appear to leap from their jaws and the children love it. The grown-ups love it. Ushug is cheering, but she did say she was here to see some explosions. Felix just leans against Jim and watches happily, plate cleaned of food and a second cup of wine in hand.
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Jim is speechless by the display in the late night sky. What should be a chill night is warmed by fires and more than a little magic (not that Jim would know if it were). His breath comes in small clouds and his eyes are wide.
He knows whales, ships. Eagles. But there are many creatures he doesn't recognize and some he had no idea if they were real or legend. In Skyrim it tends to always be a bit of both. Jim hears the cheers but his voice has absconded, leaving him in a silent wonder when the fireworks turn from symbols he only vaguely finds familiar to full on stylized dragons.
His grip on Felix's hand entwined in his tightens when it it breathes a shower of gold sparks as flames. A few breathless swears fall from his lips absently.
A night sky like this is a sight the captain has never seen before.
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Home at last, he thinks, drinking in the work of master illusionists and master alchemists alike. He knows just enough to appreciate how difficult some of those tricks are, how little he understands the craft that accomplished them.
But there is a view he likes better - the one he gets when he sneaks a look at Jim's expression. Felix grins, very satisfied indeed. The Imperial City at New Year is the greatest party in Tamriel. Even enough to impress a space captain from beyond the stars. And yet... there's a simple pleasure in watching Jim's delight that really doesn't care about Imperial honor or one-upping far-off Federations.
"Will you be up to joining me for a dance, after this?"
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Yet Felix isn't the only one enamored by the soft smile of his lover. Jim's smile softens.
"I suppose it's only right you teach me the dances of your world. I have it on fairly good authority mine would get us kicked out of any proper establishment."
The memories of borrowed costumes and close spaces are as fresh in Jim's mind as though they had happened only yesterday. Of music and liquor flowing freely. Of a cunning smile and promised words. The first of many healing sessions and oh the talent in those fingers and that mouth. Felix Caelus is a magic all unto himself.
"Let us hope I'm half as good a student as you were."
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He'll wait until the show ends and the musicians turn their lutes and drums to dancing tunes before he pushes himself to his feet and offers Jim a hand up. There's much else to come this night, but first he'll do his best to show Jim the jigs and voltas popular here... and perhaps, then, some of the less restrained dances already being demonstrated by Bosmer and Khajiiti celebrants in other parts of the gardens. Jim's still unlikely to find anything he considers racy, but he'll notice not everyone pretends to Imperial notions of propriety... including a lot of Imperials themselves. Especially after a drink or two.
But whatever they're dancing, whoever their partners, Felix will never be more than a couple of steps away.
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Don't think he missed the one that looks most like what he'd call fun.
Though as they're out in public, Jim does his best not to attract unwanted attention. It's a good thing Felix stays close though. He'll have to shoo away some of Jim's more appreciative partners.
A fine way to begin the year anew, with liquor and light under the night sky in the thrumming heart of the Imperial culture.