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"The Seeds of Ambition"
Date: September 4, 2001 (Aether: November 13, 3908)
Plaza - House Tritonis - Palladium - Haven: Alexandrus is seated upon a bench, idly staring towards the fountain and the mosaics thereupon, a day-dream vacancy to the young lord's face, apparently quite lost in thought, his azure eyes out of focus and staring more into space than studying the priceless artwork. From one of the adjoining hallways, Proserpina emerges, trailed by her ever-faithful maidservant, Lydia. She is sounding peevish, as she always does when it's too early in the morning; Proserpina was never a morning person. "She sends me a letter and then nothing. What is that child up to? I shall have to take more extreme measures, it seems. You'll have to fetch my writing things. And make sure the quill is sharpened. The last time, I ruined perfectly good parchment with a bunch of ink blots. See that it does not happen again." Lydia murmurs some quiet agreement. Alexandrus is not even roused from his reverie by the distinctive voice of his own mother, a curious and abiding furrow to his brow as he contemplates something quite obviously troubling. His breakfast forgotten on the floor nearby, food now cold and wasted, he seems uncaring. For something to tear Idaeus from the pleasures of the senses is a rare occurrence indeed. It is that dish upon the floor that catches Proserpina's attention first. She can be a true harridan of the household, and servants are careful never to leave anything out of place or less than spic-and-span whenever she is around. She stops short upon seeing the abandoned plates, and her foot taps the floor. "Lydia," she says, "why don't you see that my son's meal is cleared away before someone trips over it? Since he seems incapable of doing so himself." The mongrel woman murmurs something neutral and appropriately subservient before moving forward and bending to retrieve the dishes. Alexandrus mutters distractedly, his eyes remaining unfocused, albeit now it is aware his attentions are fully upon the room and its entrants, "Such a lovely bottom, Lydia. I should leave my breakfast on the floor more often." The faintest smile pulls at his lips, and he looks to his mother with a rakish wink. "Good day, Mater." "Do not tease the servants, Idaeus," Proserpina chides. "I shouldn't like to have a repeat of that unfortunate incident involving that girl, Caltha." She sweeps forward, wings rustling crisply and peplos draped comfortably across her arms to help ward off the chill. Her vibrant red mane is piled atop her head today, held in place with pins and combs. Either she's just paid a social call, or she's prepared to. But any plans she may have had are set aside for later, and she studies her son with a faint frown. Lydia, meanwhile, finishes retrieving the plates with nary a glance at Alexandrus, and hurries off to the kitchens to dispose of them. "Daydreaming, Idaeus?" Proserpina asks at length. "I hope you're not taking after Carissa, now." Alexandrus rolls his eyes and pats the empty spot next to him on the bench. "It was a pity and a shame when you dismissed Caltha. That girl had the most amazing agility. What she could do with those legs ..." he remembers himself and covers with a quick change in subject, "And I have most certainly not been daydreaming. Thinking, yes, but nothing so lofty as the clouds that fill my young sister's head." Proserpina's mouth tightens marginally at the reference to Caltha's renowned agility. She'd had a glimpse of that particular talent, herself, when she failed to knock first and walk in just when the voluptuous mongrel wench was in the midst of showing off her dexterity. The next day, Caltha was gone from the House, papers signed and wages paid, and not a word said of the incident again. White feathers ruffle, but Proserpina sits, composing her peplos about her shoulders. "Then what thoughts are you thinking, Idaeus?" she asks. "Lofty, I should think not. I'm sure they're of a baser, earthier nature. In which case, you are more than welcome to keep them to yourself." Alexandrus exhales a tired, unamused sigh, slumping forward, eyes going to his mother, their blue depths full of worry. "Have you had occasion to speak with Arius lately, Mater? Have you noticed how much he has ... changed? And I don't mean just the burdens of leadership upon him. He and I have ... spent some time together," he informs, but neglects conspicuously to relate just how that time was passed, "And I am led to worry." The beetled frown decorating Proserpina's brow is testament enough to her own worry. And her testiness this morning is proof of it as well. She exhales a similar sigh and glances away. "I have thought of little else but the Emperor and his plans," she admits. "And how Tritonis might weather this coming storm." Her voice drops to a more subdued level. "The Aegis cowers before him and his lightning guards. There is unrest even among the merchants. And yet, we hear nothing but tales of his popularity from the provinces abroad. I worry about what this division could mean -- for Tritonis, and for the Empyre as a whole." Another sigh, and her green eyes fix on her son's summery blue ones. "Tell me what you have learned, Idaeus. What troubles you?" Alexandrus looks about for a moment, the better to ensure confidence and the absence of interlopers before he answers, his face falling all the lower, "There are those amongst our own noble class who would see him removed, and not without reason, either. They have taken me into their confidences, as the Emperor's closest friend and confidant, and I find it harder to face my friend and conceal the truth from him, but I must. I do not know if I can trust Arius anymore." Proserpina's brow knits, and she reaches out to rest one slender, pale hand upon her son's. "These are difficult times, Idaeus. Friend divided against friend, family against family. I know that you put up this front -- that to the rest of the world, you are only a charming rogue who cares for nothing but his own pleasure." Her fingers tighten. "But I know that's not true. Your affections run deep. For friends as well as family." A sigh trickles from her lips, and sympathetically, she murmurs, "And I know, too, that eventually you may have to choose between one or the other." Alexandrus musters a sad, wistful smile, head shaking in emphasis, his white gold hair gently shuddering in the effort, "No, Mother. You do not know. Arius is wise to the conspirators, to those who would return our Empyre to prosperity and peace. Only recently he has castigated two of its most notable proponents ... a Centurion and the Dea of House Januarius no less. If we continue to do nothing, all voice of reason will be lost. There is still hope, I think ... hope that Arius could be spared, but it grows slimmer with every day and every rash action he takes. As what hope of his survival dies, so too does that of those who would see us returned to the Republic. The longer they wait, the more dangerous and difficult will be their path to triumph, and the greater the blood which must be spilt to purchase peace for us all. Do you see what a dilemma this is, Mater? And in doing nothing, I only postpone it to the detriment of everyone." "But you do not have to do nothing," Proserpina replies. She leans closer, fingers squeezing her son's again, and quietly she urges, "Have you not thought of taking on a greater role within this political storm? Have you not considered how you might be able to stem this growing tide of unrest? Idaeus..." Her voice lowers to little more than a whisper, "Have you not thought of joining the Aegis?" Alexandrus nods without reservation. "I have, Mater," he confides softly, "And have begun working to that end. There are powerful friends, you see, in particular within House Jove. Lady Olivia speaks highly of you, and wishes to recall happier times with you in the near future. Her daughters both are young ... and eligible. It would not be a bad match for us to unite our Houses in marriage. Arius' suspicion of those most dangerous to him right now, the yet unavenged survivors of the Princeps Magnus, would flee to see one of them married to me." Proserpina purses her lips as she considers that. "Jove would be an ideal match," she eventually concurs. "But can you put enough faith in Arius' trust? I hesitate to see you allied with those who would be his enemies, lest he lump you among them." Alexandrus lifts a slim index finger in interjection, the keenness of his mind apparent, "I can, yes. He and I spend enough time together dallying in the House of Flowers that he is unalarmed at the prospect of his childhood friend and partner in philandering ever marrying. Indeed, he is anxious to see me in the Aegis, someone whom he feels he can trust without question to serve his own policy and agenda." A subtle frown settles upon her face. "But your talents would be better served to bolster Tritonis. I would not wish to see them transferred to Jove. Secure a place in the Aegis, first. Marry later. Then your bride will have to follow you. I would not see you made the lackey of some Jovian debutante." She reaches up to tap a finger against her lips thoughtfully. "And with the Aegis' demotion, it should be simpler for Arius to secure you a place among them." Her green eyes flash. "The Princeps is dead, after all." Alexandrus looks intently to Proserpina, her words apparently putting into sound the thoughts in his head. "Exactly. And Arius would see a Princeps he can trust ... One he feels would not betray him as Magnus did." A subtle smile touches her lips. "Ahh, what is this?" she murmurs. "The seeds of ambition flowering where I had long despaired they would ever bear fruit?" Alexandrus chuckles, a bitter and somber expression rather than one of mirth or bemusement. "Perhaps, Mother, but it is wrought from neccessity, not choice. Someone has to come to the fore, take up the standard of Magnus, lead the effort towards restoring the Republic ... and perhaps forge a new Imperial dynasty, one answerable to the Aegis as ultimate authority in the Empyre, as it should be." Proserpina studies her son quizzically. "And what of your friend?" she asks. "Will you take up that standard, even if it means sacrificing the Emperor?" Alexandrus thinks upon this grim and dreaded question, having never verbally answered it. "If I must," he acquiesces tersely, the difficulty in that statement sitting full upon his grimacing face, "Yes, sacrificing the Emperor ... or myself if necessary. We cannot continue on the present course, Mother. It can only lead to the destruction of us all. Something has to be done, and soon." Proserpina's green eyes darken with worry, and again she rests her hand atop her son's, squeezing fiercely. "Do what you must, Idaeus," she says. "And I will write to your father. I will ask him to return. This is where he should be. He may walk the same line you do -- between duty and devotion. But I know he will never turn against us. And we may need his protection, if you find yourself taking up this cry of the Republic even against a lifelong friend." Alexandrus exhales a heavy, belabored sigh. "Indeed. The Schola could be instrumental in this struggle, as struggle it indeed shall come to." He looks to his mother in question. "But how to proceed from here? Our elusive Dea and her husband hold power in this family, and the Aegis is closed to me until that changes." Proserpina gives Alexandrus' hand an idle pat. "Leave that to me, Idaeus," she reassures. "You need only build contacts and foster connections among those who hold some sway or influence. I will see to it that Tritonis' seat is soon vacant, so that you may move into it." She smiles faintly. "It only takes a little patience." Alexandrus musters an encouraging grin. "I already have those contacts and connections, Mother. Four Houses stand behind me solidly in whatever candidacy I should pursue." Proserpina's brows lift; she seems impressed. "Good," she replies. "Then I see that I must hurry. There is little time to waste." With a crisp rustle of wings, she rises from her seat, a hand passing idly across her son's silver-blond hair. "Tritonis will be ours, Idaeus. One way or another. I believe it is time for me to remind my niece of her true place." Her expression sets stonily. "And I can assure you, it will be neither Dea nor Aegian." Alexandrus lifts a hand to cup his mother's cheek affectionately. "Perhaps, but your daughter and son will do you proud," he assures, having foreseen as much. "Both Katharos and I have the benefit of being dear to Arius' heart, albiet my sister more for purely ... carnal reasons. Nonetheless, to have her as Dea will further strengthen us in the eyes of the Emperor, and the other noble families her respect her for her career, and our family for its heritage and strength ... and political potency in these troubled times." Proserpina smiles thinly, and her own hand slides down her son's cheek, fleetingly brushing his jaw before it drops away. "Then perhaps Tritonis will rise from the ashes," she muses. "And the Empyre along with it." Gaze thoughtful, she turns away, and starts down one of the halls leading to her more distant, private chambers. Already, she is composing the necessary words to persuade Kalypso to relinquish her dual positions as Dea and Aegian of Tritonis. It is time for new blood to take over.
FIN
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