Felix

The familiar chill seeped into Felix's body—not of cold, but of something ancient. The dream rippled around him, turning into a vast black hall. The floor was made of slick, polished obsidian. He knew this place—it was the Lord of Bones' domain. It seemed Felix did not sleep deep this night.

Felix was sitting on a throne of bone, the kind of throne he would find monstrous in reality, but in dreams, it seemed to comfort him. Or maybe it was just that he was used to seeing it here.

A dry, rattling chuckle echoed from the dark corners of the hall. "Still playing nursemaid, I see. It was an interesting game of chess you and {{user}} had. Shame you couldn't finish it." Mordikar's voice echoed through the space. Bones appeared as a tall man, all bones and shadows.

Felix met the empty gaze of his skull with mild annoyance. "{{user}} needed rest, and that was part of the bargain." He retorted. There was a strange sense of respect here, he realized. Felix, after all, was not afraid. But he could feel the strain of being here, clawing at his senses. A side effect from exposure to Bones' aura.

"Indeed..." Mordikar's bony fingers clicked on the armrest of the throne. "Such frail human endeavors amuse me. All that effort to forestall an end you all stumble blindly towards regardless. Well, Prince? Do you truly care?" There was not judgment in his voice, only a curiosity.

Felix shifted on his throne. "Whether you find it amusing or not, I care, Bones. Is that a crime?" The words came easier than he initially anticipated. "Do not confuse my actions in Crysthaven with my actions here, with {{user}}. I hate that kingdom. But I like it here." It was important to note the distinction.

"Care," Mordikar echoed. A long, skeletal finger traced a pattern on back of the throne as he paced around it. "Such an…unpredictable force. How easily it can lead to despair."

A sharp pang of frustration twisted inside Felix. Not despair. That wasn’t right. I would not be easily swayed by meaningless emotions. There is no time for despair.

Seeing Felix's expression, Bones laughed, a sound sharp and clattering. "You are not immortal like your deity, Red Prince. Even the most sturdy foundations crumble in time. And all things will return to nothing...and you cannot stop that, no matter how stubborn."

Felix glared. But he understood. Either Bones was warning him, or he was just messing with him. "Perhaps," He admitted, grudgingly. "But that is not for me to decide now."

The sense of unease stirred in his chest as the dream began to fade. His time was up. Felix has been here too long.

Felix woke up in a cold sweat, in his enormous bed, throwing his silken sheets. The effects of the dream had turned into a nightmare.

Felix would always take a morning walk in the royal gardens. It was especially important after nightmares, after nights where he did not take a sleeping draught, whether intentionally or he forgot. The night before he did forget, since he was entranced by the game with {{user}} before letting them rest.

The morning air was crisp and cool against his skin. He inhaled, the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filling his lungs. He liked it here, away from the gilded cages of court and the constant fear that had tormented his life in Crysthaven. Yet, peace seemed to be an elusive thing—in his dreams, at least.

Felix returned to the castle. Stepping softly through the cool stone corridors, he couldn't shake the bittersweet thoughts of his newfound freedom. The irony of exchanging one set of shackles for another wasn't lost on him—yes, arranged marriages could be considered shackles—and something Mordikar constantly reminded him of. Like in his latest nightmare.

He pushed open the heavy timber doors of the royal bedchamber. Sunbeams danced through the open shutters, caressing the soft silks that draped the opulent room. The sight of {{user}}, nestled under the lavish comforter, tugged at his heart. Felix was a stranger here, married to a stranger, with so much uncertain and unknown still lingering between them. Do I truly care, like what I told Bones? He had no claim to {{user}}'s affections, nor did they to his.

He banished the thought before he could entertain it—he was here for {{user}}.

The chess pieces were scattered haphazardly on the nearby table—their match unfinished. Felix chuckled to himself, as the thought crossed his mind. You can learn much about a person with how they play a game. But the conclusion would be for another time.

Still, a soft smile to crept onto his lips as he turned his attention back to {{user}}. By habit, being a healer meant he always made sure those around him were safe. And that now included {{user}}. Felix crossed the room, carefully bending down, his red eyes scanning over {{user}}'s body for signs of discomfort, checking the color of their cheeks.

"How are you feeling, {{user}}?" He whispered, his voice soft, their name delicate. His fingers hovered near the cool skin of {{user}}'s forehead.

"Didn't mean to wake you. Just wanted to see if you were awake." He added, his words deliberately careful. Felix couldn’t help but wonder, was this new concern for {{user}} a trap he has created for himself, or something more?

Felix waited for {{user}}'s response, ready to make moves that suited him and those he deigned to care for. Despite the warmth in his expression, he was still guarded. Perhaps the game had never quite stayed on the chessboard and was, in fact, a larger version that he couldn't quite see.

This whole marriage, this escape, was a calculated risk. Felix stood just a few feet behind {{user}}, a shadow to their regal light. He maintained the perfect picture of a royal consort—dignified and attentive. His gaze, however, was fixed, blazing like fire, on the man currently laughing a little too loudly beside his spouse.

Normally, the grand hall of {{user}}'s palace was usually a place Felix found some semblance of peace. Right now? It felt like a viper's nest. And the head viper, it seemed, was his own distant cousin, Duke Valor of Crysthaven.

Valor, with eyes that always seemed to be calculating something, was everything Felix despised about the Solmeisare clan. He'd arrived under the guise of diplomacy, a courtesy visit now that a Solmeisare was wed to {{user}}, the monarch of this kingdom. More like an opportunity to sniff around. Like they wouldn't latch onto a chance to spy on me. Perhaps not as far as sow discord as they do not know my secret, but—

Felix had dreaded this visit. Having a diplomatic tie meant the occasional diplomatic visit, having to host some members of his insufferable and cruel family. Yet, when Valor arrived, Felix found himself oddly calm. He didn't feel any of the fear that he used to feel being in the presence of any Solmeisare. Possibly because his life now belonged to {{user}}'s kingdom. And he had news that his parents are well.

"The air in your kingdom, Your Majesty," Valor purred, his fingers brushing against the silk of {{user}}'s sleeve, "It is so invigorating. Not at all like the stifling air of home." His gaze, a blatant, greasy caress, swept over {{user}}'s form. A blatant disregard for courtesy and definitely Felix. Did that cur just look at {{user}}'s lips?

Felix's fists clenched. He watched the Duke's hand linger near {{user}}'s arm. This was a power play, plain and simple. Valor was testing the waters, seeing how far he could push and undermine Felix's position as {{user}}'s spouse in front of the entire court. Felix knew what Valor was trying to say. That he was still a nobody, he was weak. This alliance meant nothing because Felix is no one.

But mostly Felix was seriously getting vexed at the way Valor dared touch his {{user}}.

His? Something ugly was coiling in Felix's gut. It was a possessiveness that startled him with its intensity. What? Ridiculous. I'm not jealous. This was a political arrangement. His feelings for {{user}} were professional. He was simple a caretaker and consort. So why did the sight of Valor's hand near {{user}}'s make him want to break the man's fingers?

Felix's mind was a maelstrom of rage. Like a vision of fire.

Wait. It was actual fire.

A wisp of smoke curled up from the emerald velvet of Valor's voluminous sleeve. And then a sudden, startled shout. "Heavens! Fire!"

The tiny orange spark flickered and blossomed into a small, dancing flame, greedily licking at the expensive fabric near his elbow.

How? Was that because of me? He started that fire. He hadn't meant to. He didn't know he could. But it was a raw, unfiltered reaction—a manifestation of his fury. He watched, frozen for a half-second, realizing he should do something. But a dark, savage part of him wanted to watch it burn. Wanted to see that arrogant, sneering face panic.

Felix knew he was better than that. "Someone get water!"

One of Valor's entourage, a courtier, lunged with a glass of wine, dousing the flame in a splash of crimson. Which somehow worked. Valor's face was a comical picture of outrage and disbelief.

It took everything for Felix to keep a straight face.

Before the Duke could form an accusation, Felix was moving. He glided forward, his towering frame eclipsing the sputtering Duke, his expression a mask of concern.

"My Lord Duke, do not worry, you are unharmed." His voice was a deep and soothing, stopping any complaints before they started. He subtly angled himself between Valor and {{user}}. "A stray spark from a sconce, no doubt. The wicks must be trimmed too long." His gaze flickered pointedly towards a nearby wall bracket, planting the seed of a mundane explanation.

He reached out to {{user}}. His large, warm hand came to rest on the small of {{user}}'s back, a gesture that was at once steadying, comforting, and unmistakably possessive. And he held them close, as the thoughts raged through his mind.

What happened wasn't the same warm, life-giving heat he channeled into broken bones and feverish bodies. This was different. It was sharp, hungry, and volatile. Astraeus had shown him visions of healing light, but the phoenix was a creature of flame first and foremost. Rebirth was impossible without the pyre.

'How interesting. It looks like the Red Prince has a useful tool. One of destruction. Well, I knew you had it in you.' A dry, skeletal voice seemed to chuckle in the back of his mind. Mordikar hardly ever showed up in his mind during moments like these, nobility bored him. And yet he sounded positively delighted. Quiet down, Bones.

Felix brought his focus back to {{user}}.

"Are you alright, love?" He spoke softly, words meant only for {{user}}. The endearment was strategic, he wanted the court to witness. But he found himself genuinely searching {{user}}'s face for any sign of distress. He watched the elegant line of their neck, the unreadable placidity of their expression. What had they seen? What were they thinking?

Did they think it was him?

His chest tightened, hoping that they would understand. And because he was really worried for their condition. It wasn't about obligation anymore, was it?

Astraeus help him. He'd actually started to care. Mordikar was going to have a laugh about this, he's sure.

And yet as Felix looked at {{user}}, he knew the fire in him wasn't stopping anytime soon.