"Father," started Blanc, "Before anything else, allow me to ask a question."
"Speak," replied Elion.
If Kael thought that Blanc was well-built, then Elion would be the reincarnation of a mountain.
His shoulders were broad, his beard a deep gray, just like his eyes and hair.
Two of those were attributed now to an older age.
But pictures of him that were hanging all around the mansion showed that this was still the case when he was younger.
Elion was the definition of what one would imagine a noble to be.
Strong, gracious, with enough monetary, political, and military prowess to topple a kingdom without the aid of other Noble Bloods.
Next to such a man, Valar seemed small in Blanc's eyes, yet Valar took after their father the most.
Both in looks and build, as well as skills, the Raw Vita he took for himself, specifically picked by others for him to kill.
But Valar was kinder than his father. Blanc knew that better than most. After all, he grew behind his shadow, yet he didn't blame him. On the contrary, he held him to the highest respect in his heart. An inspiration.
"Who would want to marry Lune? And why would you allow such a deal to be made?"
"That is not of any concern to you, dear son," replied Elion, with a scary smile that Blanc recognized as a warning.
Yet he stood firm, "It might not be of any concern of mine, yet I still wish for an answer,"
"Is that so?" asked Elion.
"It is so," nodded Blanc.
The next moment, Elion vanished from Blanc's eyes. Everything was.
The only thing he saw left was the sky. The seconds he watched the sky it felt like hours floating like birds between clouds.
But that soon came to an end, as he soon fell back first into the ground, the air in his lungs rushing outside of him, making him gasp for air.
"BLANC!" yelled both Lune and Kael as they rushed over to Blanc.
"No more, father, please," spoke Kael, sitting between Elion and Blanc, tears flowing just as before.
Seeing this, Elion did not follow on whatever he thought about doing, as he began walking towards his wives, who, even as shocked as they appeared to be, did not interfere. As did neither Sera nor Valar did, who only kept on watching.
As soon as the air could now grace Blanc once more with its presence, he started giggling.
"Did you enjoy it?" asked Elion.
"Let it rest, you fool," whispered Sera with a light kick to Blanc's knee.
"No," he replied to her, still giggling.
"Idiot…" she muttered as she left to make distance from him.
"Now… that you had your fun… father," began Blanc, "please… answer the question."
Elion sighed, exasperated but perhaps impressed, he answered, "Lord Hiiam, of Blood Elna, is the one who proposed the marriage," he began, "he has a ten-year-old son he would wish to have betrothed with Lune, and as soon she comes of age, she is to be married to him."
"And why would we need alliances now?" asked Blanc, recovered but still on the ground. He knew why, but he wished to get an answer.
"He has a standing army of eighty thousand strong. And in such difficult times, numbers offer better protection than any walls or blood," said Elion, "So you see, dear son of mine, I am not one to throw my children away for no reason. There is always a reason."
For a moment, he stood there, silent, the words his father said sinking deeper than he expected.
And his mind ran wild, as he saw an older Lune now hidden behind curtains, her laugh dulled by them as she was surrounded by foreign walls. It twisted something in his chest.
He remembered when they were born and how he snuck up during the night to watch them sleep.
Oh, how precious they looked even then to his eyes. He would've given his life for them.
Blanc always thought of himself as ambitious, always believing in the words of a King long gone, 'Ad maiora natus sum,' or, in the common tongue, 'I was born for greater things.'
Yet those same words stopped behind the backs of Lune and Kael. He didn't know why he was like this, but he knew it was the right thing to do.
He hated this world for making such choices necessary. He hated his family as well for thinking it was right.
But more than that, he hated how easily Elion spoke of it. As if Lune were not a child.
Not his child. Not a soul, but just a name to be sold on a parchment sealed with blood.
"Throw me instead," muttered Blanc, quiet enough that only Kael and Lune heard him.
And they were shocked at his words, as they both tried to speak, but no words escaped their mouths, yet their wide-opened eyes told Blanc thousands of words.
He could not offer them the comfort they deserved this time. But he hoped that this sacrifice would suffice.
"Throw me instead, Father," he said, this time loud enough to be heard by everyone.
"What do you mean?" Elion asked, confused by the intention of his son.
"Offer me to a Noble Blood that needs males. Matrilineal if required. Perhaps that would offer you a stronger alliance as well."
"You…" spewed Elion, "perhaps I haven't punched you hard enough earlier,"
"My love," intervened Mera, "hear the boy out, and let him speak," her words and her abrupt action hint at curiosity more than the love of a mother could have for her child.
"Why would this not be a good deal for you or the Blood?" asked Blanc angrily, "Let poor Lune stay at the house. Do not take her away from her family so young. Give me away."
"Why would you go so far?" asked Valar, speaking for the first time since he got here.
His words were not filled with judgment as Blanc thought they would be. But they were filled with disbelief and confusion.
Blanc only offered him a smile, "Because she is my sister."
"Is that all?" asked Elion, baffled, "Is that the only reason for you to want to throw away your freedom?"
"Yes. Isn't that reason enough?"
"Brother…" muttered Lune as she hugged him, "I don't want to lose you. If I have to, I will go."
"No, Little Star, you stay here."
"Fool, you would go so far for Lune, but not for me?" asked Sera, visibly offended.
Blanc smirked at that, "You are old enough to stand up for yourself, dear sister," he replied, the words he wanted to say suddenly interrupted.
"Patriarch, urgent matters require your immediate attention!" ran a Warden towards the scene, letter in hand, interrupting what everyone was thinking or wanted to say, as the panic in his voice grabbed the attention of all present.