an introduction to cornelius aurion
or, “what can i do that darkness cannot?”
THE BASICS
name: cornelius “cor” aurion / pronouns: he/him / gender: cis man / age: seemingly 24 / birthday: january 15 / orientation: pansexual / homeland: the vale of the fairies / current residence: the underland, as a wanderer / occupation: eventual king
height: 5’11” / build: quietly strong / hair: dark blonde, straight, shaggy / eyes: light blue / piercings: just got multiple ear piercings at someone’s residence in the underland. now he’ll fit in / tattoos: none, although he’s not above using temporary tattoos when he needs to come across different / personal style: formerly (and naturally) loose pastel garments. this flew in the vale, but in the underland, he’s now wearing a studded leather jacket every day, along with ripped-up jeans and (as a means of defiance) pastel T-shirts.
positive traits: loving, deeply principled, courageous / negative traits: headstrong, slow with certain decisions, sentimental / mbti: enfj (the protagonist) / enneagram: 7w8 (the realist) (although no one from the vale would describe cor as that) / likes: the blueness of the sky, dessert, musical harmony / dislikes: cold, any and all rules, insincerity
A BIOGRAPHY
He was born in the spring. And he was born in the winter, too; January turned to blooming beauty upon his arrival.
The Vale had never had spring early before. When Cornelius, golden-winged and mild, emerged into the world and melted the snows, called forth the animals from their dens, and filled the rivers with crystal clear water, the other fairies weren’t hesitant about their approval. They called it a miracle. They called it a sign of what this new prince—someday to be their king—was to bring. And…
…they called it fate, too.
A fate for the Vale that was pure prosperity.
Cornelius grew like a weed (or, more accurately, like the flowers that shot up practically overnight now that he had come). His favorite things were not, as his mother and father would have preferred, his lessons in kingly conduct and his preparatory duties; rather, Cornelius’s delight lived inside of everything else. Flying higher than the court thought wise. (Though the court loved him regardless.) Learning from his subjects the best ways to skip a pebble or shoot a fairy marble. Sneaking into taverns solely so he could dance all night, discovering the secrets of the small creatures that lived around the Vale, even challenging his tutors with all of this practical wisdom just to find out what they’d say in reply. Everyone who knew him adored him—and they thought he was a little foolish, too, certainly. A little careless, a little unseasoned, a little different from how an heir to the throne might be. But they loved him in spite of it—and, perhaps, because of it.
Cornelius’s heart was this: the belief that everything was good, the belief that everything could be better. And his soul was this: the willpower to make it so, at all costs.
When Cornelius, therefore, rescued Thalia Larkspur one magical night—the first person to truly see him for more than his future, and the first person to open up to him—he believed then that the court, and its nonsense about unchangeable destiny and “marriages of great possibility” (he was the fairies’ equivalent of eighteen, and the court wanted him to start looking for a partner), could hold some water if he tried.
What had been more ridiculous than the notion that a person’s choices didn’t matter—that goodness came second to the whims of fate? Nothing, Cor had thought—absolutely nothing at all.
But what was more perfect than Cor and Thalia’s night beneath a breathtaking starry sky? What was better than the way she looked at him, the way she cared, the way it all just felt…
…right?
Thalia was, perhaps, destined to meet him—and to change him forever. The court, ever Cor’s obstacle, had only shown Cor the worst things about destiny; but here, now…
…Cornelius Aurion would make the best of it.
He gave Thalia his word that he would always be there for her—come hell and high water. Thalia lacked wings, but Cor promised that his flew for her—that his life flew for her. And Thalia’s road was a difficult one, but Cor told her that he, and his affection for her, would be “the easiest thing in the whole world”.
If the story had ended there, perhaps it might have been considered “happily ever after”.
But Thalia’s triumphant return to The Vale years later—with wings—turned into something a little bit different than that.
Now the court liked Thalia, too. They feared her; how had she come by these wings, anyway? But they liked her as Cornelius’s bride. They liked her as the one destined to help them all.
A sickness had arrived with Thalia—something that not even Cor’s touch of spring could dispel. (Perhaps that should have concerned Cor, but he, like the friend to Thalia he was, was more occupied with the wonderful fact that she was back.) Now the Vale was uglier. Now it was honest, the glorious lights and illusions stripped so that everyone could see a pervasive darkness beneath. Cor, if he’d been asked, would’ve said that it was members of the court’s doing. Too much duplicity, and not enough kind action, had brought about this curse. But Cor was never consulted, the sickness continued, and Cor was left to choose:
Believe that Thalia was his foretold queen, and go along with the court’s claims that they were meant to be?
Or forge a different path?
Cor should’ve forged a different path. But he was a pure heart in a twisted world, and he thought that what had transpired by happenstance that night years ago meant something. He thought, Thalia and I matter even if the court’s decrees and insistences don’t. (The court was urging Thalia to bind herself to Cornelius, part way of harnessing Thalia’s “miraculous potential” and part way of getting closer to something that might be causing The Curse.)
What Cornelius’s decision to believe in them did to Thalia, though, was worse than any blight and more burdensome than any free night under the stars ever could have been. It drove Thalia far away.
They were to be bound one day in the autumn—and Cor let the arrangements go forward. Perhaps he was smitten, perhaps he was naive. Perhaps he was optimistic that Thalia was on the exact same page; perhaps he was just as poor a “miracle” as the court seemed to be insinuating either of them were on their own.
But the court and its prince proved too much for Thalia, and she fled the night before the binding.
The sickness spread. The land withered.
Nobody—the court or Cornelius—could have predicted that The Vale could fall so far, could lose everything it had. The people were in a state of fear. The court was, for once, without answers. And Cor, heartbroken and miserable in his grief, was officially the prince of a dying kingdom and the man who’d repelled his only friend.
But…
…Cornelius Aurion would be there for The Vale. He’d promised the same once to Thalia (and failed to follow through); but no longer would Cornelius let the things that lived inside his heart wilt.
He would find the cure the fairies were looking for.
Obviously, the Vale could only be healed by something powerful—something unconventionally powerful. So Cor left the kingdom, and his life as its heir, behind him. His next stop?
The Underland.
Today, he’s scouring it for the cure.
Cornelius’s gift of springtime has begun to transform, the more time he spends down below. No longer is his power bright and easy to draw on; now Cor senses shadows mixed with the light, a new darkness with his magical warmth. In exchange for bringing growth and good to the Underland, the Underland is bringing an edge to Cor.
But he presses on all the same. Truly, Cor will find the cure or be defeated trying; and—if what Cornelius would begrudgingly call “destiny” allows—he’ll find out where to meet Thalia again…and to apologize for betraying his promise to her that starry night.
He wasn’t there for her when she needed it most. But he’s a man of action now, not just belief. And he’ll make a happy ending for The Vale, for Thalia, for everyone who depends on him…
…that is, if the Underland doesn’t have a different sort of ending in mind.
ABOUT CORNELIUS
If light were an individual—and if that individual were also capable of harboring a share of darkness, too—it would be Cornelius Aurion. Faithful believer in goodness to the very bone, Cor does not just hope. (In fact, it could be said of his court that its fatal flaw is substituting mere hope for authentic will to make things right.) No, Cornelius is a doer; where others, placed in his shoes, might have followed the letter of the law, both a younger and an older Cornelius saw something precious in embarking into the wild, in deliberately eliciting good from the unexpected. He is internally strong that way. Externally, of course, he is paying for his dogged resolve to bring forth goodness with the Underland’s kiss of darkness. But—forever an agent of positive change, even if his magic no longer blooms—that is a price Cornelius is able to accept.
Cornelius is, perhaps, less crafty and cold than the other residents of the Underland. Through trial and error, Cornelius has learned to handle himself during his time within the Underland’s perpetual danger… And yet… Something distinguishes Cornelius as other right away, doesn’t it? The air of spring is sometimes a good thing (especially for those residents of the Underland with little light in their lives), but it is also be a challenge for Cor to overcome—a futile reminder of the very thing he seeks to restore, a foreign emblem in a hostile country, a season that’s not to everyone’s taste. Within the world of the Underland, Cornelius does possess power—both the power of integrity and that of life—but the sheer insurmountability of his quest to revive the Vale, and his strange-seeming inner light (perhaps contemptible to some?) in spite of a dark so powerful that many around him have resigned themselves to it, likely temper Cornelius’s potential successes. —Even so, there’s a lot of potential in this man who goes against the grain of his surroundings…this prince who would rather be a savior. Whether or not Cornelius sees triumph…his struggle is, undoubtedly, a journey worth witnessing.
CONNECTIONS
Check out this page!
