Felix Caelus

There’s a moment where he struggles to find words that encompass it all. To find anything to say to his father’s piercing stare in the gloom of that hall.

“A man I trust absolutely,” he finds himself saying, his voice sure and steady. Few are the people that Stratos Caelus trusts the way he does Jim Kirk, a man not of his blood nor his homeland nor even his world. The very thought would have shocked him, a few years ago. Yet here they are. And here he is, advocating for the man to his own father.

“Are you certain of that?” Nereus presses. His gaze is searching. “You know as well as I do the risks we face. You know better the kind of company Felix has sought out in the past. The man claims to have no family, his home is conveniently obscure, everything he says about himself is measured out as carefully as glow dust. I fear there are secrets being kept here.”

“You’d be right about that, Father.” Felix’s voice comes from behind him. The younger of the brothers swallows as they turn to him, but he lifts his chin and tries to stand straighter as he looks Nereus in the eye. “But not from us. I know exactly who he is and where he comes from, and I swear to you that Jim would never do anything to bring this family harm. I know my… taste in company doesn’t always inspire your confidence. But he is no spy and he’s very definitely no cultist. I promise, father.”

Amid the clunk of dishes from the other end of the hall, Felix watches the lamplight play over his father’s face. He reads the expression there, startled and compassionate and not truly convinced, and something in him panics. Spurs him to throw out, headlong: “He saved my soul. And nearly lost his own to do it.”