Gods' Favorite

|| + Hector Clayton + || + Vitello Knight + || + Not All That Glitters is Gold + ||

[hectorclayton]

elpisxelysia:

        “Are… Are you alright?” He didn’t look alright at all, but Elysia knew no other way to address his grieving figure. 

Hector jolted at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He looked to the girl, coming up to his left side, and simply nodded once, clearing his throat forcibly and nodding, “Fine, yes.”

He wanted to be young again, to not know of his father’s misdeeds, to spend his summers with Mercy and write home to the Keep and have his nieces answer with a note from his brother he wanted to-

Hector stopped his train of thought and nodded again.

[hectorclayton]

haydenbattaglia:

Hayden did not speak. Only grasped Hector by the shoulders and drew him close.

He was too full of air, perhaps, or maybe his lungs had shut down or his throat closed up- Hector could not breathe. Instead he buried his face in the shoulder his brother offered.

He did not cry.

He could not cry.

“Hayden, I-” 

His words fell.

[hectorclayton]

( part of him worried the darkness would never give way to light )

[casonirvine-blog]

“I know exactly what this looks like,” Cason began, still struggling with the other man. People on the streets were moving to make room for the brawl ( if it could be called that when Cason had at least half a foot on the other and was clearly winning ), as used to skirmishes as anything else. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you cheering me on though.” 

[hectorclayton]

Hector wrapped his arm around Cason’s, that had snaked around his neck, “Let me go!” He gasped, the stupid oaf was crushing his windpipe and he was finding it harder and harder to breathe, “I told you more than once, I do not fight for my family name as I once did,” He slammed his foot down on the other man’s, rolling to the side and taking Cason with him. He slammed his elbow backwards with a grunt.

[hectorclayton]

sommersofkindness:

“No one would ever say you’re a bad person, Hector.” They had enough of traitors in their kingdom, but a good heart was always easy to recognize. At the question, Pierce stopped for a moment, thinking it over carefully. “I assume they didn’t have time. They had to recover from the raids and unite. Besides, Illias lived with us for years and saw no other choice but to fight for a free kingdom.”

Hector shrugged, tugging a hand through his knotted hair “Illias.. That’s... That’s something else. He and his family, his people, the free folk, they deserve to have their land back, what was theirs. It wasn’t ours to take and yet my father took it.” Looking back to Pierce, Hector smiled, “I’m glad you do not think me guilty, Pierce. I am glad to have someone like you on my side.”

[hectorclayton]

sommersofkindness :

It was always hard to see defeat in a friendly face - even more so when some of their other friends were in those dungeons. Victory was bittersweet this time. “You deserve peace of mind. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Pierce said firmly, leaning against the wall as he started eating the food.

Hector hummed, watching the boy eat, “I do doubt that, Pierce.” He said, voice soft, “I have the blood of traitors running through my blood.” Sighing, he leaned against the wall as well, “Tell me, Pierce, You’re wild friends, Why did they not strike when my father was king. He was far more for their eradication than my brother, who was guilty only because he refused to do anything at all.”

[hectorclayton]

endless | hercy

[hectorclayton]

mercy-thivia :

Chewing on her lip as he spoke, Mercy wasn’t quite sure what to expect. When he told her that he had recieved her letter, she was sure that her heart dropped. Pulse wild as though she couldn’t possibly contain her heartbeat. 

Had he come to criticise her for taking the coward’s way out and write rather than summon the courage to speak to him?

No, that was not her Hector.

Perhaps it was merely just a courtesy, telling her that it was too late but he was too kind to leave her waiting in agony. 

Either way she wasn’t sure that she wanted to here him finish the sentence he had started, beginning to interrupt him. “Hector, I-” 

Then if her heart had been beating out of control it just about stopped. All it had taken was a simple touch. So light and yet she wondered if it might be her undoing. It certainly felt as though it could be if the pain she felt in her chest as his touch was lost was anything to judge it all by. 

A step closer was taken by him and although it had been something she’d only recently realised she wanted, Mercy still found herself lifting a hand to lay it on his chest to ensure some space between them. She found herself struggling to coax air into her lungs, as though they refused to do their duty until thy knew where all this was going. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

The words echoed in her head

Never had a man said that to her.

Countless times she’d heard it from her mother or sister but never from a man. 

“I-”

There was nothing she could say that he would deserve but the hand that had been so fleetingly keeping distance between them fell away. Her last attempt to push him away abandoned.

“I supposed you’d better come in then.”

Hector locked eyes with her, leaning in, just slightly. He had said those words before, to his family. To Tibalt, to Amelia, to his brothers and sister (although rarely), Even to Halle once, but none like this, none with his whole heart,

None like this.

His stomach felt as if it were filled with wildfire, hot anxiety gripped at him, pulling him down

down

down.

“Ah.” He said, with a careful soft nod, and stepped forward, into the doorway. His eyes were still locked on her. Mercy. She was so beautiful, it often left him speechless. Her long dark hair did not look her look pasty, as it did his brother, and her dark eyes were so full of life, of answers that he hadn’t asked the questions too yet. 

But even more beautiful was who she was. She was thoughtful and stronghearted, she was stubborn and independent, and so very smart, and she did not need him, a too tall knight with his heart on his sleeve and little more on his mind than war and family.

He took another step forward, entering the room.

Hector remembered kissing her, at the market, so long ago. He remembered how soft she was, when she was away from the world, she was soft. She was even kinder and allowed herself to be something other than strong and courageous. 

“I ask you to excuse my candid behavior..”

[hectorclayton]

sommersofkindness :

Pierce noticed the discomfort in his friend’s demeanor and quicky took the bowl from him. “Thank you, Hector. Come, let’s eat somewhere else.” He placed a hand on Hector’s shoulder and guided him out of the main hall that led to the cells. “How are you? We’ve all made hard decisions these days.”

Hector followed Pierce without hesitation, letting the other man guide him from the room, into another. At his question, Hector only shrugged, “I don’t know.” He answered after some time, “I’m alive, I guess. What more can I ask for at this time..”

[hectorclayton]

iapetxs :

      “Ah, yes,” Iapetus greeted easily. It wasn’t difficult to be magnanimous after having won the war that his family had been planning for decades; he felt that he should probably be warier of the young man, but… Well, he did have a soft spot for the mortals whose lives had been twisted by the Olympians. If only young Ser Clayton knew what he’d done to his Mercy in their past lives. 

      “You can meet my eyes when you speak to me, it’s alright,” Iapetus noted with a hint of amusement. “I received word that she had arrived back in Westedell, yes. But she’s a clever little thing; she likely saw where the winds were blowing and tucked herself away somewhere safe. But she will find me soon enough, I wager.” He gave the younger man a thoughtful look. “She thinks very highly of you. She does not think very highly of most people.”  

Hector looked up, meeting his eyes. It was strange. He had lived at the castle since his mother passed when he was but a boy, and he had trained, however briefly, under his father. But he did not recall, no matter how hard he tried, what his father’s eyes looked like. The man before him... “Sorry. Bad habit.” He smiled slightly, and straightened his stance.

He softened, at the man’s words. Mercy. His Mercy. “I care about her.” He told Isiah Balor. “I care about her very deeply.”

[hectorclayton]

sommersofkindness :

The Lion’s Keep was successfully taken over by the free folk, with the equally shocking betrayal from important allies of the crown. Considering that Pierce had also broken his oath to do what he believed was right, he figured that they shared the same goals, tired of the Vitellos tyranny. For the others, there would be trials.

As a knight standing with the wildling court, he was one of many to escort noblemen to the dungeons. He’d just locked down his last prisoner when the sound of his name made him turn his head. “Yes?”

Hector kept his eyes down. He did not look into the tomb-like dungeon cells. He did not look for his brothers, his sister in law, his family. He held out a small loaf of bread to Pierce, set atop a small bowl of vegetable stew. He had made himself useful in this way, passing out food to those who deserved it.

“For you.” He said, voice soft.

[hectorclayton]

endless | hercy

[hectorclayton]

mercy-thivia :

The feeling of uneasiness that she’d felt since the Keep was invaded had never really left her. While she was almost certain that she was secure in her position, there was much mystery as to what would happen to everyone else, those who had sided with the Vitellos. Though if she were being honest with herself, which she had not allowed since such candidness had caused her to write a letter, there was really only one man who she felt concern for. Only one whose welfare she felt the need to know about.

But she’d done little about it other than spending longer than she’d like thinking all over in the peace of her room. 

Walking the halls didn’t fill her with the same usual confidence, there were too many wildlings that she didn’t know what to make of and because of that she’d kept to her room whenever she could, only venturing out now and again when the boredom grew too strong. 

Though again, if she were being honest it was partially to avoid the very person who was taking up so many of her thoughts.

Two knocks on her door pulled her from similar thoughts again and she rose, smoothing her hands over her skirts as she approached the door slowly. There was some hesitancy in her steps, something she’d barely known until recently and Mercy couldn’t fathom who had possibly sought her out. But after a moment she pulled the door open to meet the face of whoever it was.

Brown eyes widened as she found herself tilting her head back so they could meet blue one and a single name escaped her lips. 

“Hector.”

Had her hands not been resting on the doorframe perhaps she would have reached for him, gods knew that slim fingers itched to. To check he wasn’t just a figment of her imgaination. But she was rendered motionless by the sight of him.

She had so much to say. So much that the words that all rushed to come out all at once instead found themselves getting lodged in her throat and leaving her uncharacteristically both speechless and breathless. 

What could she say in person that she hadn’t already in her letter? Her words were so much less eloquent in person.

A letter than she was still none the wiser over how it had been received. Such was her hesitancy, now cause completely by the man in front of her. As much as her heart seemed to be begging her to say something heartfelt, to carry on the honesty she’d allowed pen and paper to tell, Mercy just couldn’t seem to voice it.

So instead she settle for a truth wrapped in formality. 

“It’s good to see you.”

When she opened the door, Hector felt the weight of the letter, folded small as he could get it, in his breast pocket. 

Yours

Yours 

Yours

“Mercy.” He said, his voice quiet, “I...”

Hector faltered. Words were not his forte, and as much as he wanted to reach forward, to hold her close and tangle his hands in her long dark hair, he knew it was no way to great a lady, and Mercy was not only a lady, but the one he...

“You as well.” He managed, rubbing a hand at his stubbled chin. It had been nearly two days since he had shaven, and he was certain he looked like a street rat at this point, a look he had managed to pull of as a younger man, but one he tried to avoid now, as it made him look far too much like a Vitello. 

His eyes were locked on her. She was here. He was here.

Yours

Yours

Yours

“I got your letter,” he said softly, and reached forward, his body ignoring the screaming in his mind as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Mercy,” He said again, She was here. She was safe. He was safe. His hand lingered, and when it finally fell back to his side, he took the smallest of steps forward and took a breath, deep, clean air. 

He was a traitor to the Vitello name 

He remembered his brother’s eyes on him as he left the throne room, the way his niece had cried out in the night.

Vitello no more. 

He was simply Hector now.

The letter was weightless, but he felt it still, crushed against his heart.

“I love you.”

[hectorclayton]

endless | hercy

Hector sat against the wall, his back pressed flush against the cool stone, his head resting on his knees. He wished for sleep, quite actively, but sleep had yet again evaded him. All he could see was the face of his brother, of his uncle, over and over, a never ending cycle of heartbreak. He wouldn’t change his choice, he couldn’t, he could no longer support his family, the only family he’d ever had, when they let things like this war happen, when Antony had killed these people, when his father had stolen their land.

Sighing loudly, Hector pushed those thoughts from his mind, lifting his head and leaning it against the cool stone. He wrapped his arms around his knees and looked up at the ceiling. When he was a boy, he had thought that the ceiling went on forever, reaching towards a sort of heaven, somewhere among the stars. Sometimes he almost wished he continue to think that way.

Somewhere on the other end of the hall, a door opened and Hector head voices, a low conversation most likely about his family or the free folk, or maybe even about him. He put his head back on his knees and tried to ignore the nausea that rolled over him in waves, wishing he could go back, wishing he could stop his brother, his father, from making these mistakes. 

But he couldn’t. 

He took another deep breath, clamping down on the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. Standing, he ran a hand through his hair and adjusted the sword that still hung loosely at his side and headed down the hall, his feet moving slowly one in front of the other. 

When had his life become such a mess? 

How could he fix this? Or fix himself, fix the feelings that bubbled inside him, threatening to explode with each step. He needed... 

He needed someone...

He knew. His feet found the familiar path down the hall, down steps and around corners, Hector did not look up the entire time, his gaze focused on his feet until..

Hector looked up at the door, wiped the slight wetness from his eyes, and knocked twice.

[hectorclayton]

iapetxs :

      “Something I can do for you?” Iapetus asked, still in particularly high spirits after seeing just about everyone he hated in this world led away like cattle to be jailed. Oh, happy day. He’d noticed the approach out of the corner of his eye and had turned with more good humor than he usually possessed, a stark contrast to last week’s scowls and snarls. “Speak up now, I’m happy to help.” 

“Sorry, sir,” Hector said, quickly. He still felt the dread pooling in his stomach. He had denounced his family, had left them behind, and yet he still felt as if he were a guilty man in this war. He had done nothing but try to protect his family, the people of the realm...

“I was just wondering if you had seen Mercy of late. I heard she would be returning, and I know the two of you are quite close.” He asked, his head bowed slightly, the feeling in his stomach was now a burning feeling.

[hectorclayton]

haydenbattaglia :

“’Course we have. I’m just not sure how many times the city can go to hell before our people give up.” Hayden sighed. Gave Hector a closer look. “You look like shit, by the way. You alright?”

“I always feel my best when I look like shit,” Hector said to his brother, managing a grin. “How about you, Brother?”

[mercy-thivia]

Dearest Hector,

Dear Hector,

Hector,

          You may find it odd me writing to you now, after all this time - I know it is something I myself am finding more than slightly strange. I can only apologise for the rushed manner of this letter, I do not have much time and much I would like to say. I must confess that there was a part of me that had hoped that perhaps your memory would fade as time passed with me her at home. That I may have been able to find some sort of respite from the thoughts of you that were never as far from you as I might have liked. You complicated things, you see.

         I thought I had succeeded, being back here at home it was easier to banish all thoughts of the Keep. That is such the effect you had on me, any thoughts of the place inevitably led back to you. With my sister Joy being so sick I had thought that my mind would be too full of worry for her and my time too taken with caring for her to have any of it left for anyone or anything else. It was the case for quite sometime.

        At least until my sisters started questioning me about my new life and all the people I’d met. Had I made any new friends? What were the nights like? Who was the most handsome? The kindest? And the most beautiful? Who did I miss most? This flood of questions seemed to give me only one answer for the majority of them and while I cannot say I confided the truth with my sisters, it is the reason that I have found myself writing this letter. 

      Which brings me back to how strange I found it to be writing this in the first place. You see, I have never been the sentimental type, never really thought that I owed anyone any explanations for my actions - not even my sisters receive them - but yet once more you seem to have broken what is the norm for me. I feel as though I owe you an apology at the very least. You have always been nothing but kind to me, clearly seeing something in me that I struggle to believe that could possibly exist. And I have done nothing but put distance between us and continue to disappear without warning or explanation.

      It is only now, with some hindsight, that am I able to say that I regret my actions deeply. Of course I understand that I am probably far too late in my confession, if that is what this outpouring of words can be called, and you may have given up on me. Perhaps that would be by far the best thing for someone as good as you. I cannot say that I know how you will react to all this but I hope that if nothing else we might see each other once more. If only because you deserve an apology in person rather than through lifeless parchment.

                                                         Yours,

                                                                                                                                                               Mercy

@hectorclayton

[hectorclayton]

ALLIES OF THE VITELLOS:

Before participating, please ensure you have read the event.

The hour for judgement has arrived. While at dinner, the lords and ladies of the Vitello family were surprised by the sudden appearance of the free folk. A few knights protect them, but they are of no match for the impending army, and King Holden asks them to lay down their arms in the remaining hope that peace can still be discussed with the free folk. Instead of killing the family, the wildlings take them to the throne room. What do the knights think of the uncertainty that lies before them? What do the lords and ladies believe will become of them all? Gathered together with others that had been present in the Keep, they remain in the throne room to await their fates. Under the threat of death, it is now that the rest of the world learns who they really are.

“We rise up  And we fall down Only to rise again.”

PARA RESPONSE:

Hector paced. Pacing was useless. He paced some more, his brows drawn deep down, eyes fixed on his feet, flitting up to the assorted people about him, his family, his brothers. He had failed to get them out, failed to get his nieces out, and watched, now, as Antony cradled little Peyton, the small little thing asleep in his arms, with no anxieties, no worries of the war outside the doors of the throne room.

this day would be endless, the night would never come and when it did they would die and he would die with a letter in his pocket from a girl he never told the truth too. He could write to her now, scratch something on the back of her own letter, the words he never said but-

        but...

                No. Hector ran a hand through his hair and sighed, hands worrying at his sword, still strapped tight to his side. He bit his lip harshly and tugged some more at his hair.

He sat, his back pressed against the edge of the throne his brother sat upon once, the throne his father lived on and the throne his uncle avoided. He tilted his head back and let it rest against the cool, heavy, metal. 

What had they gotten themselves into. Was this his fate for not condemning his brother? The price of his kindness? 

[hectorclayton]

hamish-vitello :

Hamish did not smile back as Hector, easy confidence exuding from his every pore, strode over to him. If he had been capable of it, he would have hated his brother for it. But it was only the usual, bitter sense of inadequacy which settled inside his stomach like lead, the knowledge that he had only himself to blame for never, ever being able to measure up.

“No,” he said. His fingers curled tightly around the book’s spine, his knuckles growing pale. He wanted to accept Hector’s offer, he realized. He was scared. Hamish had been scared and craven his entire life, and he was so, so sick of it. “Do I look like a coward to you?”

Hector’s smile fell away, and he tilted his head just so, looking at his brother, “No, Hamish, you have far too much Vitello blood to be a coward, But I do not see what you mean, little brother.” He looked over the boy- the man, as he had become one when Hector had been away training, He leaned heavily to one side, and always seemed a moment from exploding. The Vitello blood was very strong in Hamish.

Hamish was bad at hiding that Vitello-ness that flowed so strongly through him, while Antony threw his fits, they had, in the past few years, becoming few and far between, his anger more controlled, a blaze in his eyes instead of a body at his feet, where as Hamish still had a set to his jaw, a fire in his mouth, and a fist ready to strike. “You are no coward, Hamish.” He repeated then.