The Chancellor.

"Permit me to stand on Ceremony.." AU/OC friendly Ardyn Izunia.

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It was yet another busy day for the esteemed Chancellor of Nifelhiem. Yes, it was nearing the holidays, but that detail was often neglected by him. He holed himself up in his office, signing paperwork as usual, when the office door had creaked open upon it's burdened hinges. The elder looked up from his desk,"Zenna, what has daddy told you about interrupting his work?"

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Seen Better Days (OPEN)

No rest for the wicked. The Accursed rubbed his face with his gloved hands, calloused fingertips scraping lightly against his weathered skin. His body, and soul to an extent, was beleaguered by the ever-discordant and terrifying dreams that preyed upon him in the night. The word ‘dream’ was often the go to word to describe what he saw whenever he closed his eyes. Unlike a dream, however, what he saw was quite unpleasant; memories of a time long passed, pain from wounds long since healed, and fear the likes of which no one truly knew. He had suffered in silence for ages, longing for his eventual release from the agonized existence he had led for the past two thousand years. Gods, he wanted it all to end- he longed for the perpetual darkness that came for extinguished souls. He wanted death to take his breath away, like a forbidden and elusive mistress to her ignorant victims. He wanted to stop existing, but the Six forbade it; at least for now.

The elder rose from his bed as the heavens outside began to brighten into shades of orange and pink. The dawn had finally come. The sun’s awakening had been delayed for two hours this time; winter was beginning to take hold. The days were growing cold, and the nights were even colder. He could feel the remaining chill nipping upon his sun-kissed skin, causing goosebumps to rise. In truth, he didn’t mind winter’s frigid bite; it was a reminder that he was still able to feel- that he was still human to a small extent.

He looked upon his own reflection with a disdainful sigh. What he saw was a tired, old man who had the frame of a stick. His belly was sunken in from borderline starvation, allowing his ribs to show like the ghastly bars of a cage. His cheekbones, though not as prominent, still pushed against his skin. The shining cognac hue of his eyes was surrounded by an unhealthy darkness as they sat in sunken sockets. Indeed, he was the epitome of sickly these days. However, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many days he had gone without food and water, he still lived. He was still alive, and he hated it. He grabbed his many layers and began shrugging them on one by one. He had fastened his vest shut when his phone began to ring. Clearing his throat, he picked it up off of his side table, and answered,

“Izunia.” No ‘Good day to you’, no ‘Good morning’; those greetings were reserved for his better days, “What is it?”

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[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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Ardyn continued to watch Cor work on his shaft. Something about the man seemed almost hypnotizing. Perhaps it was his frigid eyes, or his sun kissed skin, or maybe it was everything that was his; everything that screamed ‘Cor’ was beyond appealing to the Chancellor. He had opened his mouth to speak again, when he felt more suction at his tip. The sensation was so strong, that the elder nearly fell back onto the bed, a sharp cry of ecstasy cutting through the air like a song through an amplifier,

“By the Gods!” He exclaimed with an unabashed moan. He was coming unfurled. Slowly, his smirking, oily facade was fading away, revealing his true colors. He was rather vulnerable; a sensitive, lonely man in need of a caring heart to heal him,

“Cor,” The Marshal’s name fell from Ardyn’s lips again, but it sounded far more wanton that it had before. The throes of pleasure were taking his inhibitions, much like alcohol would do to a bar’s patrons. His breathing had changed, speeding up as the warmth of Cor’s mouth spread further down his shaft. His hips shifted, rising up from the bed to meet the sensation, “Cor,”

[adventurouswind]

It had merely been a brief trip to the store to purchase ingredients for his potion; a simple, easy task that came naturally every three months. He had been gathering what he needed when something caught his eye. The elder's cognac stare darted toward a familiar youth in a red cape. For a moment, the Chancellor found himself unable to recognize the boy as he took in the sight of the flowing, red cape. Then, it hit him. He slowly, languidly, made his way over to him, "Good day to you, Bartz."

Bartz Klauser was traveling through a local store to pick up some potions as well as various things for supply while he traveled the world, he was about to pick up some Gysahl Greens for Boko when he heard a seemingly familiar voice call out to him.

His brown eyes blinked as he turned around, only to see the Chancellor Ardyn Izunia standing there who was the same man who helped the young Adventurer with his wounds.

He smiled as he spoke, happy to see this kind man once again.

“Ardyn, long time no see! How have you been lately? Also, thank-you so much for helping me with my wounds before, really wish to repay you somehow.”

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The Chancellor smiled warmly at the young adventurer as he placed a bag of herbs in the basket that hung from his right arm. It was filled with an assortment of various herbs, mostly those with curative properties, along with mint leaves and honey. He gave Bartz a pat on the shoulder,

"I have been faring well, thank you." At Bartz's thanks, he chuckled softly, " There is no need to thank me, let alone repay me. 'Twas my calling after all."

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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Ardyn’s hips trembled with growing ecstasy as he felt Cor’s tongue lapped at his shaft. He moaned softly as he stared into his eyes. A bright smile fell into place as he watched, “Cor,” The Marshal’s name fell from his lips like  a heavenly hymn, a soft sound of desire that was often reserved for those who were in control of him. The elder had given the Marshal control of the night; albeit reluctantly,

“You have wonderful eyes, my dear,” He spoke through his whines, struggling to keep his voice steady, “You are- Ahhh... You are far more beautiful than I first thought.”

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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By the six! As the Marshal took the hardened shaft into his mouth, Ardyn was instantly hit with pleasure. His stubbled jaw hung slightly open as though a moan had left it. His head had fallen back, allowing his unkempt hair to hang a little more freely. His fingers began to claw the sheets, and it felt as though the world around him had frozen in place. He exhaled a breath that he had been subconsciously holding. With the air that left his lungs, a soft whine escaped, voicing the elder’s true feelings of the moment. He was only a few seconds into the encounter, and he was loving it. Ardyn, having been raised in a time when courting a man was considered a sin against the Six, would not confess it openly; he was even slightly loath to do so.

He lifted his head up, and gazed down at the Marshal, wearing his signature smirk, “My my,” he mused, his voice somewhat unsteady from the waves of ecstasy that washed over him, “You are quite the handsome one,” He chuckled to himself, “Open your eyes, love,” he ordered gently, “I wish to see those beautiful, icy seas.” Despite the sudden change in demeanor, the regret still lingered; no doubt that it would stay for quite some time afterward,

“Come on,” he urged the Marshal, “Open your eyes.”

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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“I am not having a change of heart, Cor,” Ardyn insisted as he shimmied out of his pants, exposing more marks. They were smaller, nearly unnoticeable in the artificial lighting of the room. Without the many layers he wore, he felt vulnerable, and weak; like a wounded animal waiting for death to take it. Cor, he felt at least, was the predator now. The Chancellor found it difficult to look into Cor’s eyes as he crawled onto the bed. Was he playing submissive, or was he feeling guilt tear at his mind?

“I’m merely stating the obvious,” He wanted -no. He needed- companionship. He needed someone to love him, hold him, comfort him; he needed what he had lost many lifetimes ago. Even if that meant taking advantage of a man who only needed help in guiding a King to his ascension, he would get it. He was a desperate, pitiful man; a shell of his former self, and he loathed that fact,

“Shall we get started, Love?” Ardyn still did not look at the Marshal; he couldn’t bear to look upon such a strong, devout warrior while he defiled him. He had taken advantage of many other poor souls at the many brothels he had visited, but something about this moment felt different, almost scarily so.

Why is this any different? For once, he had no answers. All he could do was get the act over with as swiftly as possible, and leave the Marshal be for the rest of his natural born life. We court, I leave. he recited those words like a mantra in his head as he reached for the waistband of his black briefs, We court, I leave.

One thing was for certain. Without the obscuring layers, Ardyn was surprisingly fit. Had they not been on opposing sides, had Ardyn not been there at Insomnia’s fall, he might have been interested in pursuing something. Were he one to act purely on physical attraction.

He shook himself out of his stupor at Ardyn’s words, and he sighed, peeling his underwear off and tossing it with his slacks. Ardyn asked for his submission. Very well, he’d submit. He sank to his knees beside the bed and stared up at him. “Let’s just get this night over with.”

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Ardyn donned his poker face as he slipped out of his briefs, No turning back now. He situated himself so that his shaft was inches away from Cor’s face. His cognac eyes stared down at the Marshal, burning brightly with the lust that he had tried so hard to snuff out. He had longed for this moment, to have the all powerful Immortal on his knees and pleasuring him, but the circumstances were not quite what he had wanted. Nevertheless, he pursued him.  The Chancellor stared for a moment before speaking,

“I am sure you know what I want you to do.” His voice, though smooth as oil, was devoid of emotions, “Do it quickly, so that we both may leave.”

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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The elder removed his orange-red scarf, and placed it upon the side table,“I am well aware, Marshal,” his voice had darkened, “Though, if I may be honest, your blade would be far from the first to pierce my flesh,” As he spoke, he removed his vest, and lifted his old, ruffled tunic above his head. Beneath his many layers, now exposed to the Marshal, was a honed body. taut muscles moved beneath tanned and weathered skin as he tossed the articles of clothing aside. There was something else that rested upon his skin; a nest of scars snaked their way from his chest, to the lower section of his belly. Each scar varied in size and severity. The worst of them all was the one that rested in the center of his chest.

It was wide and jagged, like an unclean cut from a blunt sword, with smaller marks coming off the sides; much like veins of agony. As he briefly turned away, a mirror image of that ghastly mark was on his back; the blade that had caused him such grievous harm had run him through completely. Along the middle of his back, more gruesome marks made a home upon him; burn scars that told of scalding water being poured over him. He had been through hell, that much was true. Though, some of the scars he bore weren’t always on his flesh. Mentally, he still suffered. He was lonely, often to the point of seeking temporary companionship from a local brothel. Tonight, he had Cor; though, he didn’t seem to be a willing participant,

“Look well, love,” Ardyn rumbled, “For you may not see these marks again. After tonight, you shall see me no more. I promise you.”

Cor slowed in his own disrobing, though he had far less to take off than the layers and layers Ardyn hid himself in. Honestly, it was like watching someone take off their entire wardrobe. Cor knew his body wasn’t completely unmarked, but compared to the mess that was the center of Ardyn’s chest. It was difficult not to ask what had happened, but more important was the assurance that this first night would also be their last.

“It sounds like you’re having a change of heart,” Cor narrowed his eyes. “After you stalked me from your boat and followed me all the way here to end it here? What’s your game?”

[permittedceremony]

“I am not having a change of heart, Cor,” Ardyn insisted as he shimmied out of his pants, exposing more marks. They were smaller, nearly unnoticeable in the artificial lighting of the room. Without the many layers he wore, he felt vulnerable, and weak; like a wounded animal waiting for death to take it. Cor, he felt at least, was the predator now. The Chancellor found it difficult to look into Cor’s eyes as he crawled onto the bed. Was he playing submissive, or was he feeling guilt tear at his mind?

“I’m merely stating the obvious,” He wanted -no. He needed- companionship. He needed someone to love him, hold him, comfort him; he needed what he had lost many lifetimes ago. Even if that meant taking advantage of a man who only needed help in guiding a King to his ascension, he would get it. He was a desperate, pitiful man; a shell of his former self, and he loathed that fact,

“Shall we get started, Love?” Ardyn still did not look at the Marshal; he couldn’t bear to look upon such a strong, devout warrior while he defiled him. He had taken advantage of many other poor souls at the many brothels he had visited, but something about this moment felt different, almost scarily so.

Why is this any different? For once, he had no answers. All he could do was get the act over with as swiftly as possible, and leave the Marshal be for the rest of his natural born life. We court, I leave. he recited those words like a mantra in his head as he reached for the waistband of his black briefs, We court, I leave.

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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Ardyn chuckled once more as he led Cor away to the bedroom. He would get his way tonight; Cor had made the mistake of agreeing to the terms, despite the ambiguous terms, and the Chancellor was going to take advantage of it. The elder shed his coat as he entered the bedroom,

“I assure you that I too am a man of my word,” he responded while removing hs shoes, “I have not harmed his Majesty, correct?”

Cor gave him a sour look and worked his boots off. “To my knowledge, no,” he admitted, watching him suspiciously. “Which is why you don’t have a blade through your belly right now.”

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The elder removed his orange-red scarf, and placed it upon the side table,“I am well aware, Marshal,” his voice had darkened, “Though, if I may be honest, your blade would be far from the first to pierce my flesh,” As he spoke, he removed his vest, and lifted his old, ruffled tunic above his head. Beneath his many layers, now exposed to the Marshal, was a honed body. Taut muscles moved beneath tanned and weathered skin as he tossed the articles of clothing aside. There was something else that rested upon his skin; a nest of scars snaked their way from his chest, to the lower section of his belly. Each scar varied in size and severity. The worst of them all was the one that rested in the center of his chest.

It was wide and jagged, like an unclean cut from a blunt sword, with smaller marks coming off the sides; much like veins of agony. As he briefly turned away, a mirror image of that ghastly mark was on his back; the blade that had caused him such grievous harm had run him through completely. Along the middle of his back, more gruesome marks made a home upon him; burn scars that told of scalding water being poured over him. He had been through hell, that much was true. Though, some of the scars he bore weren’t always on his flesh. Mentally, he still suffered. He was lonely, often to the point of seeking temporary companionship from a local brothel. Tonight, he had Cor; though, he didn’t seem to be a willing participant,

“Look well, love,” Ardyn rumbled, “For you may not see these marks again. After tonight, you shall see me no more. I promise you.”

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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*Feisty. Good. Perhaps I can bring him around before the moon sets.* He chuckled darkly at the Marshal’s low growl of a voice, “You are lucky that I am a gentleman, Marshal,” he purred, “If I were not, then I’d have tied you to the nearest bed and taken you.” He turned away briefly,

“If you do not cooperate, then I shall see to it that you never fight again. Is that clear?”

“A deal was a deal,” Cor snarled, following after him. “King Noctis reclaimed the tomb at Ravatogh. I’m a man of my word, unlike you, and I’ll live up to my bargain.” He stripped out of his Crownsguard jacket, hanging it on the chair he’d been sitting in until Ardyn had surprised him. He couldn’t bear to sully it with this.

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Ardyn chuckled once more as he led Cor away to the bedroom. He would get his way tonight; Cor had made the mistake of agreeing to the terms, despite the ambiguous terms, and the Chancellor was going to take advantage of it. The elder shed his coat as he entered the bedroom,

"I assure you that I too am a man of my word," he responded while removing hs shoes, "I have not harmed his Majesty, correct?"

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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Like the felines he mimicked, Ardyn lsnguidly stepped into Cor’s personal space, and leaned in, allowing their noses to touch. In his cognac eyes, primal flames rose; desire was their fuel. He chuckled as the words came forth like a sweet song,

“I want you, love,” he purred, his breath puffing out against the Marshal’s lips, “I want to bed you. To court you. To claim you.” To punctuate his statement, he kissed the man before him. It was a quick, painless act: one that faintly tasted of spice,

“I want your submission, dearest Cor. Just for the night and not a moment more. I promise to be gentle.”

The Marshal’s eyes widened like saucers at the press of his lips to his. He wasn’t sure what to make of this, it was so… sudden.

“Don’t call me ‘love’,” he repeated, a low growl in his voice as he stared into those amber depths, unable to look away. “You want me to submit to you for a night? My submission? Fine. I’ll give you those things, but courting me? Claiming me? That’s not going to happen. The sun will fall from the sky before that happens.”

[permittedceremony]

*Feisty. Good. Perhaps I can bring him around before the moon sets.* He chuckled darkly at the Marshal's low growl of a voice, "You are lucky that I am a gentleman, Marshal," he purred, "If I were not, then I'd have tied you to the nearest bed and taken you." He turned away briefly,

"If you do not cooperate, then I shall see to it that you never fight again. Is that clear?"

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

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[Continued x ]

The look in his eyes and that flicker of tongue brought an icy shiver down Cor’s spine, and he watched the redhead step further inside. There was something very predatory about his movements that didn’t lend themselves to a clear frame of mind.

“That… depends. You’ve yet to tell me what your demands are, Izunia. All you’ve said is ‘a favor’.”

[permittedceremony]

Like the felines he mimicked, Ardyn lsnguidly stepped into Cor's personal space, and leaned in, allowing their noses to touch. In his cognac eyes, primal flames rose; desire was their fuel. He chuckled as the words came forth like a sweet song,

"I want you, love," he purred, his breath puffing out against the Marshal's lips, "I want to bed you. To court you. To claim you." To punctuate his statement, he kissed the man before him. It was a quick, painless act: one that faintly tasted of spice,

"I want your submission, dearest Cor. Just for the night and not a moment more. I promise to be gentle."

[hardcormarshal-deactivated20260]

Ardyn stood silently in the doorway, his eyes glowing like twin embers in the night as they bore a hole into the Marshal's soul from behind. A smirk slowly curved the right corner of his mouth upwards. He stood there in silence for a moment before taking a step forward, "We meet again, love."

It seemed time was up on avoiding the Chancellor. He’d promised him a favor in return for information, and it seemed he was there to collect.

“Don’t call me ‘love’, Chancellor,” Cor growled, containing the urge to jump at his sudden appearance. “I see you’ve found me.”

[permittedceremony]

Ardyn's smirk only grew at the warrior's reaction to the nickname. It was a simple phrase, a tender word often reserved for lovers who kept secrets beneath the covers. It was seldom that he used such a word; let alone in reference to the enemy. However, it seemed to fit the situation that the elder had planned.

He strode into the room, allowing his cognac eyes to rove over Cor's body. He could see the taught muscles beneath the dark shirt; the sight of it caused the Chancellor to lick his lips like a hungry Coeurl,

"Indeed," Ardyn's voice was the deep, rich purr that he had used in Galdin Quay, "Are you ready to make the payment, Marshal?" His heated gaze met the chilling hue of ice, "Or are you unprepared?"