Prince of Thieves

Hayden Battaglia, at your service. Bastard in more ways than one.

[haydenbattaglia]

halle-ogden:

She looked back over at him with a large grin, teeth in full show, dimples etched in. It was perhaps one of the most sincere smiles she could give, especially in the world around them. They had been through so much, when they thought things were as bad as they could get, they got worse. The difference was now she knew she could adapt, that she could survive, so instead of pouting and sulking she would just change. It was the resilience of a warrior in a body that was once fit for a princess. Her face still held it’s scars but it had changed to pride, she had seen other women with similar ones, part of a trend that showed the stories of the people in this Keep. 

“Well get used to it, perhaps I will be such a good wife that I charm the recipe out of the sweet but slightly plump man. Each year we will have it and reflect on the time that you started it first.”  she said with a smirk, a smart retort, especially as he continued to go on about her acts of vile playfulness. She looked at the tart, trying to remember the name. “Do you think if I bring him left overs he could decipher what we mere uneducated, non-baking mortals could not?” 

Hayden’s shoulders went slack as she grinned at him, gifting him with the kind of honest smile he thought neither Mason Ogden nor Marcellus Balor had ever gotten out of her, for all that they’d been proper men to be betrothed to. Had Hayden been inclined to cliché bullshit, he might’ve thought something ridiculous like gods, she’s as radiant as the sun - and as far out of my reach, too.

He’d never liked cliché bullshit and so didn’t think it, of course. But he knew it anyway, could feel it in his aching bones she somehow warmed with the brightness of her mere presence. He knew it, yes: the unshakable knowledge that she would leave, or he would, because he’d always told himself that it was easier to leave than be left behind... no matter how hollow that rang.

And he’d let himself be drenched in darkness again, and think: this is where I belong after all.

“So neck kisses and pie fights are gonna be a yearly tradition now? You keep surprising me, you know.” His voice was just slightly hoarse, sounding faint to his own ears. Hard to imagine, years together with her - and not just because of the wildlings at the city’s gates.

He might as well enjoy it, though. For as long as it lasted. Hayden cocked his head; his lips curled into a teasing smile. There was a tired edge to it, sure. But it was genuine. “Wait, you meant making the pie eating a tradition? I guess I can get behind that too.” He slid another finger down his cheek, then licked the pie remnants from it and nodded. “Yeah, definitely this one. I bet the cook knows. How couldn’t he recognize the brilliance he created?”

[haydenbattaglia]

elinor-ptolemy:

She shook and flinched under Hayden’s tender hands, the kind touches shocking her poor heart and prompting even more exhausted tears to fall down her pale cheeks.  Her eyes shut, gold lashes made dark and wet as a shaking hand dashed them away.  How she continued to shame herself, to drag herself so low before someone she cared about so deeply.

The chair creaked under Hayden’s weight, and Elinor fought to hold herself straight and still and proper, despite how she gently shook from the exertion.  (When had she last slept more than an hour’s time?  She could not remember.)  Her eyes stayed downcast, focused on her hands as they folded themselves across her lap.  Tears dropped onto the sleeves of her nightgown, but she could not stop them; it seemed her body was simply weeping from exhaustion, for her voice held no grief.  “He was kind to me.  A kind man, and a good one.  I promised…”  She swallowed, a lump in her throat.  “I visited him when he was imprisoned, to thank him for his kindness to me when the wildlings held us in the throne room.  I promised to p-pray for him.”  Her voice had faded to nearly nothing, and she shut her eyes again, seeking control and quiet as she had been taught.

She was shaking. Hayden pressed his lips together. One hand curled around the back of the chair, as if he had to physically stop himself from hugging her - that probably went too far against the safe formality yet fragile equilibrium cloaking them. He had known something was off with her the minute they’d met again in that hallway and her face had become an empty mask of courtesy. But he’d... he’d hoped that in this he was as wrong as he was about so many other things.

Prayers wouldn’t have helped any of them, Hayden nearly said. But had he not prayed, prayed harder than he ever had in his entire life, when Zion had perished? It didn’t matter if it worked; it was the thought behind it that counted. (The memory tasted like ashes in his mouth nonetheless.)

“That was kind of you. I’m sure he was glad,” Hayden said. Didn’t that take strength, the urge to comfort a man already condemned by everyone else? Even Hayden hadn’t visited him. Hadn’t felt he had the right, maybe - for all that he had felt an instant, protective affection for his little brother, they’d never spoken much. Hamish had always seemed too terrified of pissing off Hypatia to lower himself to a bastard’s level too often.

But suddenly, Hayden was ashamed. His own little brother, and yet Elinor had dared what he hadn’t. Even now, even when it was obvious that she was the farthest from alright you could get, she was so damn kind. Hayden leaned forward slightly to look her in the eyes. “Maybe it’s time to be kind to yourself too, kiddo. D’you have a place to stay or not?”

[haydenbattaglia]

halle-ogden:

She practically beamed, tilting her head as if play thinking, loving how comfortable his kisses felt. Something about the whole situation, about feeling his warm lips, the way his hands were almost around her, even in the middle of all this it made her feel safe. She went on her tippy toes, kissing his left cheek, then his right, then his neck lightly. “Neck pie…neck pie is definitely my favourite. Now we just have to match it to one of the messes on the table, or-” she looked down at the floor. “Those ones can be yours. As soon as we find it we just need to remember or guess the name and voila, the most important part of our wedding day is planned.” 

His neck. Why’d it have to be his neck? He could feel his cheeks heating. Hayden resisted the urge to look around, see if they were being watched. Of course they were; this was the Keep, She knew that as well as he did, knew that they had to sell this to make Mason Ogden back off.

“First time I’ve heard of neck pie,” he said, lightly stepping away from her. He swiped a finger across the pie on his face and casually flicked it onto the invitation still lying on the table, then pretended he was studiously observing the few intact tarts that remained. “I’m pretty sure it’s that one,” he said, pointing at it, and turned to grin at her. “I would know, what with you just dumping it on my head and all.”

[haydenbattaglia]

portia-vitello:

“One moment, love… I’ll be right with you in a moment!”  she called over her shoulder.   Portia had barely managed to get herself a job at the local tavern and that was only because the owner had been fond of her prior to her short time on the throne.   After the rebellion, Holden had gone into a depression –––– forcing her to take on the role of providing for their family.  Two children to feed.  Her shoulders were heavy with the weight of responsibility, but at least she was good at serving.   It was like the old days when she used to be a handmaiden for Lady Alycia.   And now she was a barmaid.  When Portia finally turned to face the customer, she paused ––– surprised to see the other.

“Oh… hello.  What will you be having? An ale?”

Hayden absently - not nervously - rapped his knuckles on top of the bar as he regarded her. When was the last time he’d even spoken to Portia? When he’d broken her out of that tower? She’d become queen after that. That was damn high to climb, only to fall again. “Sure, I could use an ale to smear my throat a bit. While we, uh, talk?”

[haydenbattaglia]

holdenvitello:

Hayden — and he was glad to see the boy, despite everything. They had never quite been family, but the makings were there, and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… Gods, Holden felt old as he turned to look at the boy. “I could ask you the same, Hayden. These woods are not safe; you should be careful to wander.” 

“I can take care of myself. Better than you, clearly.” Hayden shrugged, as if to encompass the entire bloody mess Holden had gotten himself into. There must be some painful irony in finally gaining the crown and losing it nearly immediately. Holden wasn’t too different from Hayden now, having to crawl around in the dirt like any common rat. “Shouldn’t you be with your wife and... and the kids?”

[haydenbattaglia]

halle-ogden:

“Yes you, the all wonderful, somehow weirdly charming no matter what situation you’re in-” even if it felt like an compromising and nearly unforgivable situation. She couldn’t help it, she had said it once, how she could never choose who she loved; she just never expected it would be someone so completely different from everything she had ever read or dreamed about. “You tend to do things that to the common mind seem to be bouts of stupidity.”  at the mention of her blush however it grew more red and the craving to throw icing at his face intensified. 

She knew she was joking, he had to be, after everything they had been through together. “You are the best, but in the worst possible way.” she teased, jumping forward lightly as she jested. She was about to grab and through the closest cake when she felt a full force hit her face, it caused her to step back, feeling the pressure start to turn as the pull of gravity made it slide off and plop on the floor. Moving her hands up she wiped her eyes, licking her lips as her squashed up face turned into a grin, brightened by her now blueberry indigo tinted face. It stained down her dress. Without saying another word she began to move towards him, her eyes locking onto his as the corners of her mouth turned the grin into a smirk. “Oh my dearly betrothed, how can I repay you for such a kindness.” she said, moving onto her tippy toes, wrapping her arms around him as she pushed her body against his. While rubbing the berry bliss against his garb, the quick and quiet hands that he had trained moved to the counter behind him, grabbing a pie and raising it above his head. She winked, so quickly as she let it drop down on top of his head, covering him in a raspberry swirled custard. 

“Glad to know that whenever I’m acting the fool, I’m at least also charming and wonderful,” Hayden said, his lips nearly twitching into a smile as her cheeks grew even more pink. He’d never much been one for flattery - he’d seen enough of it in the Keep to know it was empty and meaningless - but her teasing compliments still made him want to grin like… well, like an utter fool.

But he wasn’t enough of a fool to think she actually meant it. Still wasn’t enough of a fool to think she meant any of this, to think that their play-acting at marriage could ever turn into something genuine. But gods, he wanted it to be. He wanted it more than he had ever thought himself capable of.

Perhaps it was that which made him the biggest fool of all.

He didn’t have a mirror right now, but he could sure guess at the devastation written plainly on his face. Hayden was almost glad when she pushed herself flush against him, if only for the distraction it granted both of them. It was easy to ignore the kinda gross slurry of the pie, the stickiness of their clothes, in favor of the warmth of her skin. He swallowed roughly, staring down at her lips-

And got dumped on the head by what he - as he licked the icing off his lips - guessed was some kind of custard. He wasn’t even mad. Not like he hadn’t already needed a bath anyway. “I’m not sure this is how pie-tasting’s supposed to work, you know,” Hayden said, amused. He couldn’t help himself; he pressed a quick kiss to her sticky forehead, then resolutely looked away as if to pretend it hadn’t happened.

[darius-of-vitello-blog]

“What lies.” He scoffed, swiping his foot from side to side to clear his porch steps from forest debris. “You’re always happy with me around- I never allow anything else.” A jiggle and shove later and he was pushing the door open to reveal the comfortable home.

Inside the floor was bare, but the furniture was covered in quilts or tapestries. Some from his travels, some from the old woman who had left it behind, and some he had stolen from the Keep.

Part of him hoped Hayden wouldn’t be able to tell.

[haydenbattaglia]

His expression softened in an embarrassing show of emotion. Gods, he was so damn glad to have his brother back. “Maybe,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. And then, not quite sure what else to do with himself, he lightly punched Darius against the shoulder. “Better not let it go to your head, though. You’re plenty insufferable already.”

Hayden followed him inside, his ever-curious gaze sweeping around the room. For one panicky moment he could’ve sworn one of the tapestries was the same one Halle had once caught him and the ladies Annabelle and Mara under - until he saw that the needlework was just a bit different. He found he was kinda relieved that that monstrosity had at least burned with the rest of the Keep.

But that still left the question of what Darius was doing with the rest of those tapestries. “Taking decorating tips from the court, Darius?” Hayden said lightly. Although he’d always been happy to take his brother along on his adventures, Darius being brought to steal on his own left a foul taste in his mouth for some reason.

[coeusxcoleman-deactivated202005]

           Coleman didn’t touch his own drink anymore. The stuff tasted acceptable, but he preferred wine. The last time anyone had spoken ill of his wife—which didn’t seem to happen often at all, mind you—and he was close enough to hear it—which was just foolish—it had been the last time the person spoke at all. Cole didn’t immediately reply to Hayden’s question, though he did meet the younger man’s eyes and tilted his head a little. “Should it be? Is that what motivates you to marry her?” A bastard, finally worthy of a name, a title?

          He shook his head, then. “A life made out of political schemes and betrayal, is that a life at all?” But what his life, now, if not that? He pursed his lips a little. 

[haydenbattaglia]

Hayden sharply glanced up. His eyes narrowed; his grip around his mug tightened. “Not that it’s any of your damn business,” he said tersely, “but no.” He was marrying her to get Ogden’s greasy paws away from her once and for all. He was marrying her because she deserved to be free and happy. He was marrying her because if it were up to him, no one was going to use Halle as a pawn ever again.

And he was marrying her... because he loved her. The more fool him.

He snorted. “Not a life I’d much care for, that’s for sure.” And it would be his as well, once he married Halle. Betrayals and schemes and gods only knew what else. But worth it. For her, it’d be worth it. Hayden tilted his head at Coleman, considering him. Balor seemed about as fond of the idea of such a life as Hayden. He didn’t bother asking what was wrong, though; he took another sip of his beer instead. Not like he could imagine Coleman Balor pouring out his heart anyway. “You didn’t answer the question, by the way.”

[elinor-ptolemy]

She was slow to react to his kind touch, her eyes blinking sluggishly, her body still and torn between flinching back and leaning closer.  “I’m…I’m sorry.”  She said automatically, tears still falling, her eyes shutting as he gently caught her tears on his fingertips.  Her exhausted mind took in his words slowly, hearing his pain and suffering and having no defense against it.  Her tears fell faster, and her brows pulled together in a pained expression as she sniffled quietly and trusted him to hold her up.

But her eyes opened at the smile in his voice, confusion written on her face at the truth he shared.  “What?”  Her voice was so faint and hesitant, it was nearly a whisper in her empty tomb of a chamber.  “They…but…you mean…P-Prince Hamish escaped?”  Her heart bombarded itself with remembered words and the last, painful moments she’d spent in the prince’s company.  Did he truly still live?

[haydenbattaglia]

He frowned. What was she apologizing for, his loss or her weeping over it? Hayden didn’t want her to apologize for her tears, to muffle them or feel ashamed of them. She had nothing to be ashamed of, least of all with him. He wished she knew that. He wished she trusted him - even when he was afraid he’d never be able to trust her in return. “Don’t be,” he said, voice gentle despite the bluntness of his words, his thumb brushing carefully at the corners of her eye.

When Elinor spoke, the sound was whisper-soft, hardly more than an echo of the long-forgotten strength Hayden knew she had once been capable of. Where had that girl gone? He pulled back his hands but did not step away; instead he perched on the arm of her chair, his bearing deliberately casual. But he was close enough to comfort her again, if need be, and that was what mattered.

“Yeah, he was broken out,” Hayden said again, a little surprised that it apparently mattered so much to her. He’d been so wrapped up in his own grief that he’d never stopped to think she might carry some of her own. He was such a bloody idiot. “I didn’t know you, uh” - even cared was too blunt, maybe - “were close to him.”

[minalariviere]

Time had passed while she remained secluded, away from the outside world. Lazily slouching on her chair, the priestess limited herself only to listen to the soft wind playing with the thin fabric of the tent, just as she’d been doing for the last couple of weeks. It was clear how many of the visitors and the very own citizens of Westedell had vanished into thin air after the battles, the fires and the executions, giving place for peace and silence to finally settle in these unholy lands. 

Though… Such calmness was suddenly interrupted by steps, not as delicate as the steps of the priestesses looking after Mina in her idleness. 

A thief, perhaps? An assassin? A child of the Gods, or maybe one of the Gods themselves? Either of them would be annoying if they attempted to take her from her rest. “Hm?” Her eyebrows raised in a sort of welcoming gesture, as she opened her eyes and softly slurred a few words. “I haven’t asked for a jester, yet.” 

[haydenbattaglia]

“Good, because I sure ain’t one,” Hayden said. He didn’t have much to jest about anymore, in large part due to her. He came to a halt just in front of her, put his hands in his pockets. He remained standing. It was petty as fuck and he knew it, but he needed the small advantage that looking down on her gave him. “You’re looking a little pensive there, Lariviere. What’s wrong? You upset there aren’t more innocent babes for you to murder?”

[holdenvitello-blog1]

He stood on the edges of civilization — the edges of his civilization, at the very least. Word had gotten around, warning of monsters and ghouls alike, but he did not heed them. ( For what did a dead man walking have to fear? ) He could not say if he was challenging the fates or dooming himself, but his feet moved of their own accord. When he heard a snap of twigs, he merely slowed his pace. “If you yearn to rob me, I have no gold.” How ironic that the last son of the golden family would have to make such a claim.

[haydenbattaglia]

“Even if you did, I would want nothing from you.” Once, Hayden might have spat out those words, would have balled his fists in anger. But his voice was flat, his face an empty mask - and as he came closer to the man he used to be proud of calling uncle, his steps were uneven and hesitant. “The hell are you doing here, Holden? It isn’t safe.”

[darius-of-vitello-blog]

Even as his brother complained Darius continued to sound off a jubilant laugh. He couldn’t help it- it was just something that happened. It was impossible to let solemnity take over when loved ones were near. It was then that he realized that maybe that was just what he needed after these past few weeks; time with family. 

“It’s right there you overgrown child.” He said, pointing to the small building now visible. “Are you happy now?”

[haydenbattaglia]

As his brother continued to laugh, Hayden leveled him with a thoroughly unimpressed stare. The corners of his mouth were twitching, though; Darius’ mirth had always been contagious. Like the plague. “I’m never happy,” Hayden replied, deadpan. But then he shrugged, smiled. “At least not till you finally get that rum of yours out.”

[darius-of-vitello-blog]

“Whatever you say dear one.” He pulled back a branch and released it in an attempt for it to whack his brother with a laugh. “And should I be offended? My rum is always worth it! You know that.” Walking a bit more showed that there was a slight bend, and beyond it he knew his cottage lay. He had earned it by keeping an old woman company. She had been poor of sight and kept to herself, so Darius had spun her some charming stories of his travels and when she died (thankfully of old age) he had taken over the place. 

[haydenbattaglia]

It was a combination of good ol’ reflexes and his maybe slightly excessive but ever-present paranoia that had Hayden grab the branch just before it hit his face. He regarded it with blatant disgust before he released it behind him. “Your rum is worth a lot. But traipsing through the bloody wilderness? I’m not sure yet, brother,” Hayden said mock-solemnly. Something squelched beneath his boots; suppressing a groan, he hoped it was just wet leaves and not something more revolting. “How far is this cottage anyway?”

[coeusxcoleman-deactivated202005]

               Coleman considered Hayden’s words with a smile that contained barely concealed secrecy, a smile that said he knew more than he let on. Hayden could try to guess what exactly it was that hid behind that grin, but any attempts to unveil the truth would result in a conclusion nowhere near the unbelievable reality. “I suppose I am as mortal as any other in the Realm, yes.” A gesture, a gentle lift of his shoulders, icy eyes aimed at the younger male, regarding him levelly, but Hayden was looking away. The corner of his mouth twitched.

              Only after his companion’s words did Coleman follow Hayden’s gaze to the barkeeper, who had apparently been hiding behind the bar and looked from Hayden to him with wary eyes before getting up. Coleman didn’t have to say a thing—he assumed the barkeeper knew now not to try anything reckless or stupid, again. 

              Coleman’s next smile was a lot more genuine than the previous one had been. “Why wouldn’t I? Contrary to popular belief, Hayden, I daresay I do actually also care for people who are not my wife. Halle is a wise, strong young lady and my brother seems fond of her.”

[haydenbattaglia]

That damnable smug, secretive smile. It was a true noble’s smile, rife with condescension and reveling in it, as if Coleman knew something Hayden didn’t. He fucking hated it. Considering Coleman over the rim of his mug, he snorted and took a sip of his lukewarm beer. All of a sudden, he missed his brother with a ferocity that surprised him. At least Darius didn’t make him feel like an ant to be squashed below a noble’s heels. Usually brought better beer, too.

“I don’t disagree,” he said carefully, deciding right there and then it’d be better better not to comment at all on Coleman’s wife; rumors said the man got kinda touchy where she was concerned. And anyway, of course Halle was strong. She was probably the strongest person Hayden knew. Didn’t mean she couldn’t get hurt when people yet again tried to use her for their own purposes. “And that fondness isn’t motivated by, I dunno, her political uses?”

[holdenvitello-blog1]

“Perhaps.” Or perhaps they would end up precisely where they were. Did it matter now? Their paths were locked here, and after the thing was done, Hayden would still clasp onto his anger, and Holden… Well, Holden would most likely be beside his brothers, rotting in a place he had helped drive them to. No, he refused to sit and accept this. There had to be someone he could save, and if it was Hayden, Portia, the children, anyone, that would make him different than his brothers, would it not? It would make him a different Vitello altogether. “You cannot place all your anger in people, Hayden — nor in yourself. You have a chance at a happiness that you deserve, after this is through. Shed your ties to this family, and create one of your own.” 

The boy gave an answer that Holden did not want to hear. There was so much life in Portia; if he cast her out entirely, he knew his ghost would haunt this world in agony of it. He followed his heart, but at what cost? “Then we are both damned,” he answered finally. 

[haydenbattaglia]

Perhaps. What a vague, useless answer. Hayden shouldn’t have hoped for anything different, should perhaps be grateful just to have Holden grant him this much. But gods, he was so damn sick of having to be grateful for scraps. “I’m not angry,” Hayden said blandly, obviously lying through his teeth. He was silent for a moment, then quietly admitted: “Mostly, I’m just tired. I’m not sure any member of this so-called family deserves happiness anymore, Holden.”

Hayden smiled sardonically. “Try telling me something I don’t know,” he replied, tone flat but expression oddly gentle. He pulled himself up on the bars, looked down at the man he used to admire so much. “All of us were damned a long time ago.”

[darius-of-vitello-blog]

“Excuse me for enjoying a place that I know won’t get burned to the ground.” Gingerly he knelt to pick up a pinecone and hucked it into the woods. “Everyone needs a place to escape to, brother.” Ever since the unrest between the people had started Darius had been working on acquiring this cottage, just in case. And besides, it fulfilled his need to escape every so often.

[haydenbattaglia]

“My place got burned down and I’m doing just fine,” Hayden grumbled, as much to convince himself as to convince his brother. It still stung to think of the plaza, of the old boarding house he and so many people had made their home in. Probably wouldn’t stop stinging any time soon either. The Keep? That was a different matter entirely. He plastered a grin on his face. “C’mon then, show me to this cottage of yours. But that rum better be worth it.”

[elinor-ptolemy]

It was instinctual, the way she flinched at the sudden motion, the noise of his chair scraping the flagstones.  Elinor watched him with wide, sad eyes, the man that had once been her childhood companion trying to hide his grief.  She heard the drag of steel over flint, and the business-like admission that the former king had gone to the gods.

She didn’t realize she was crying until the tears fell on her folded hands.  “I’m so sorry, Hayden.”  Her voice quiet and exhausted, as her heart twisted with the loss of an entirely unknown branch of her family.  A side she would never know, now.  (The pretty little daughter she had met, in the arms of a loving father.  The sweet smile and voice full of delicious secrets about love.  The kind voice that had offered to seek the stars with her.  The mother of those two princes, who must have loved her two strong boys.)  She had known of the Vitello’s atrocities, real or imagined, only by hearsay…but it was those brief glimpses that she would remember instead.

Elinor’s tears kept coming, for all that she could hardly raise her head to look at her companion.  “That you should lose so much of your family, and so violently…I am so sorry.”

[haydenbattaglia]

He raised his head in surprise, trying to blink away any remnant of tears. The brightness of the fire; it had to be because of the brightness of the fire. Elinor sounded more like the little girl he had once upon a time known than since she had come to the Keep, kind and compassionate instead of formal and distant. “So am I, Ellie,” Hayden replied, voice slightly strangled. The affectionate pet name just slipped out without thinking. “So am I.” Rocking back on his heels, he quickly wiped a hand across his eyes. Then he stood and turned back to her.

Fucking hell, he’d made her cry. He was at her side within moments, hands instinctively reaching out to brush his thumbs across her cheeks and wipe her tears away. “Hey. Hey, don’t cry,” he said gently. “It’s alright. I’m gonna be fine. You... you get used to loss, after time. I’m gonna be just fine.” Even if it still continued to ache. Hayden thought of Zion, thought of his own role in his father’s second death.

If she knew, if she knew of his guilt, would she still feel sorry for him then? He doubted it.

Yeah. It didn’t stop aching. Hayden took a deep breath, forced a reassuring smile. “Besides, Hamish and his ma are still out there somewhere. They were broken out by someone.” Rumors indicated it had been done by a certain recently arrived sea captain and her crew - but he hadn’t investigated too closely. Better not to. You never knew when someone might try to use that information. “So you just be concerned with yourself, yeah? No need to worry about me.”