Coronation

[featheredflames]

It is all far too much attention for Joshua's liking.

He knew this was how it would be, that there would be a certain amount of fussing the be expected...but this was beyond the scope of acceptable fussing surely. So much unnecessary commotion over a fitting of ceremonial robes that he wouldn't wear more than a handful of times at that... Would it not be better to spend time focusing on the clothing he would be draped in when he finally dawned his father's mantle? The day-to-day wear that he would need to sport as Archduke of Rosaria.

That would come later, in time, he had been reassured. This outfit would get at least a few days of wear out of it. The ceremony was to last more than a singular evening, festivities dragging on for nearly a week after the event of the coronation itself. Already Joshua feels weary at the thought. Fancy suppers and meeting with dignitaries were in his future but right now his present reality was a miserable one. Fabric is cinched around his waist as measurements are taken and pins are adjusted. He feels like a doll as he's fitted, made to stand for bells on end. Founder he could only hope that some semblance of reprieve would find him soon, hopefully before his knees gave out...

Swallowing he stares out the window, doing his best not to move as the tailors do their work as quickly as they can. It would be unfair if he told them to stop - they were only doing as they had been instructed to, to rework and refit the robes his father wore on his crowning day. Joshua cannot help but think they don't suit him - Clive would wear (and fit!) them far better than he. Yet it was tradition...and while he may be able to escape the tailors ere long, there was no escaping protocol and the duty that loomed over him.

Comments

[flamebrand]

Joshua looks more his age when he allows himself the freedom of feeling, and Clive privately revels in that, too. That exasperated little huff, the rolling of blue, blue eyes. It settles something in Clive's heart, and allows him the grace to step back, arms folded across his chest.

"Not quite. The rest of court should be reminded that Ifrit bends the knee to the Phoenix."

A half-smile, though he means what he says. With two Dominants of Fire taking residence in Rosalith, and given the perilous position Ifrit put the Firebird in almost a decade prior, Clive has spent much of his time atoning for it by silencing every whisper that suggested the Warden of Inferno's dominance (ha) over the Phoenix. His is a power used only for the benefit of his brother, now: when he stands beside Joshua, it's only because Joshua allows it.

That's a downer, though. Clive moves swiftly along from it, not wishing to dampen whatever mood has already been soured by minutes and minutes of standing still and holding poses.

"－At any rate, I thought we might visit Ambrosia after this. Her fitting is finished, incidentally."

She looks very fetching in her new parade colors, and Clive thinks that a walk to the stables might take the edge off of Joshua's tiresome day.

[featheredflames]

His back stiffens ever so slightly at the thought of Clive getting on his knees for him and oh, no, he truly should not let his mind wander down such dark and treacherous paths. No, he will not make a comment on those words, lest something slip free that he may regret.

Thankfully, for Joshua's heart and sanity, he changes the subject. A visit to the stables to see Ambrosia. Wonderful. He smiles, expression softening. He does love the chocobos so, having sought refuge in their quarters over the years for comfort.

"I would love that, Clive. I bet she looks majestic." He knows she must, what with the fittings he saw being fashioned and crafted over the past few moons.

[flamebrand]

Good. Joshua looks pleased, and Clive mirrors that same pleasure, the smile slight but genuine on his sharper features.

"She's missed you, you know." Ambrosia. She's ever been assigned to Clive, but she always seems most delighted when the brothers are together, and Joshua has always been a soft touch around animals. They must sense the goodness of his heart.

Clive sidesteps another attendant, as she lays the last of the fabrics against Joshua's leg; his hands throw up in the universal sign for surrender, lips still curved upwards.

"―But we'll speak further once I let the tailors do their work. I fear I'm only delaying things with my interference."

[featheredflames]

His heart softens to hear as much. Adoring, sweet Ambrosia...she had always had a soft spot for him, even as a child. He remembers tucking himself under her wing to hug her, finding her not only incredibly soft, but also incredibly warm. It didn't matter if he was smelly afterwards, as Mother had complained of him reeking of birds. If anything it was a compliment - he was the Phoenix after all.

"As much as I would love to keep your company...I regretfully must agree." He can see how flustered the tailors and attendants are, having to navigate around Clive's mountainous figure while ensuring cloth drapes attractively over his own. "But as soon as I am done here, I can attend you. Where should I look for you?"

[flamebrand]

A beat after Joshua asks where they should reconvene, where Clive tips his head. The gesture is almost houndlike in nature, before he eases the slant and relaxes his mouth for a soft laugh.

"I thought I'd stay and watch. Until you were finished."

Near-apologetic, as he moves back towards the wall like a black-and-crimson shadow. Only his eyes remain bright, blue and focused on Joshua with comfortable intensity.

"Unless His Grace is feeling shy."

[featheredflames]

"Not at all. It is nothing my brother has not seen before."

The woman at his feet turns red at his words and Joshua realizes he should course correct immediately.

"When I was feeling particularly fussy, you did help dress me as a child, after all." That is what he means. Naturally. Not that Clive hasn't seen him in a state of undress since then - he has - and Joshua wishes, above all else, that such an opportunity would strike again.

"Feel free to enjoy the show at your leisure, although I cannot guarantee it will be entertaining."

[flamebrand]

The show. Clive would chide his brother for such an indelicate choice of words, but that would say far more about the state of where his own mind is going than anything else－ it could be that Joshua is just speaking about the theater of a fitting in general, and not the potential degrees of undress that Clive might find him in.

It's wicked of Clive to assume the latter. Intrusive thoughts are shooed aside, to middling success: the delicate jut of Joshua's collarbone comes to mind, and then the smooth line of his waist tapering to his hip.

Clive clears his throat, and breathes through his teeth.

"Never a dull moment with you."

Familiar, in a way that he doesn't usually dare to be when there are eyes and ears on them. He's forgotten himself for a moment, but quickly slides back into a posture more befitting his station.

"Your Grace has grown into a fine young man. Father would be proud."

[featheredflames]

Father would be proud.

It touches him in a way nothing else could, as he stands still to allow the attendant to pin a pleat at his waist. Oh, if only that were true. If only Father was still alive and here, that he'd been able to protect him as Clive had told him he should have all those years ago...

But he was a child then. Ten summers old and a weak, sickly thing at that. It wasn't his fault. So many had reassured him thus...but the guilt still remained all these years. Perhaps it always would.

The teasing tone from his voice is gone, replaced with something more somber, reflective, as he smiles back at his brother.

"I will do my best to make him proud. I hope I can measure up to his legacy."

[flamebrand]

Far be it for Clive to speak on behalf of their father, a man he can only hope to emulate, but still. The words are out of his mouth before he can temper them, delivered in that soft whisper he assumes whenever he wants to convey something important. A strange habit of his, that he speaks so quietly when he wants to be heard.

"You already have. Look at you."

Of age, wrapped in regalia, alive. It's the only thing Clive could ever ask of Joshua: to be whole, to be here.

"Of age, having endured the worst of this world with grace and kindness. You make Rosaria proud; you make me proud, every day."

[featheredflames]

Look at him.

Joshua looks down at himself, at his body, at the drapery he's been coated in. It is true that he's endured a lot, but so has Clive. So have many of their people. He cannot think of himself as special by any means...but if Clive is proud of him, what would ever be better than having his favour?

"Clive..."

His face feels hot, cheeks pink. He shouldn't grow teary, he can't wipe his eyes if he does what with the way he's pinned, but he gives his brother a heartfelt smile that lights up the entire room.

"I could say the same of you. I would not be standing here if it weren't for your support."

[flamebrand]

Founder, that smile. The most radiant thing in the Twins. It's small wonder that the Phoenix bypassed him for Joshua: his brother is brightness incarnate, a being of pure light. The Firebird must have known that Joshua would be born perfect.

And, well. The compliment he's given settles over Clive, warm and gauzelike. He shakes his head in customary deference, but the gentle lowering of his brows and the pleasant slant of his lips stay in place. The rest of the world― which exists, plainly, as other men and women currently occupying the room― blurs into obscurity for just a moment, before Clive allows it to come back into focus again.

Right. They're not alone. Best not to get too lost.

"You've needed it far less than you think." Joshua can stand on his own. He's no longer the little boy who spent more days in bed than not, and the world should know as such. "But you have it, now and forevermore."

The maid scurrying about near him squeaks under her breath as she bustles by. Clive laughs, and closes his eyes.

"I should keep quiet, before I embarrass myself further."

[featheredflames]

Joshua thinks it ought to be the opposite - that Clive should speak more - but perhaps his brother does have a point. They are making quite the scene by simply pouring platitudes over one another. Any more should be reserved for a more private time, if they can be awarded such a luxury.

"You flatter me, brother." Not that he's opposed to it, but the attendant at his feet is looking rather red. Best to shift the subject while he still can. "Will you be occupied later? I would very much like to have supper with you this evening, if our schedules align."

[flamebrand]

"There's nothing that requires my immediate attention," is his easy answer to whether he can open his schedule for a dinner with Joshua. "If His Grace wants me at his dinner table, then so be it."

They can visit Ambrosia, then Clive can relinquish Joshua to get changed for dinner before reconvening. A solid plan, if he's ever heard any. Clive will also have to slip out of metal and steel, given that it's generally frowned upon to stink of bird at the dinner table.

"I might even sit by your side, and pick the vegetables off your plate."

[featheredflames]

"My hero. A true Shield of Rosaria you are." If Clive is going to tease him then he is going to tease him in turn. "I will be grateful for your assistance, as I heard whisperings from the kitchens that stew will be served." Which meant mushy carrots. The absolute worst.

Hopefully there would be tarts or whipping cream to whet his sweet tooth once the main course was over.

"I will meet you down by the stables?" As much as he enjoys Clive watching him this will be finished far faster if the tailors and attendants don't have to be privy to their idle chatter and teasing.

[flamebrand]

The Archduke of Rosaria, still quaking at the sight of carrots. Clive spares himself a moment to smile about it, before conceding the point that yes, he is being a bother. Even corralled to the side of the room, he's a distraction from the proceedings.

With a low sigh, he pushes himself up from his casual lean against the wall.

"That would be for the best." He can moon over Joshua at the coronation proper; there's still time enough yet for him to cry over his brother's beauty. "I'll ready the greens for you to give to Ambrosia later."

Indulgent as ever. He spares one last nod to his brother before turning on his heels, carefully stepping over a pile of crimson fabric on his way out and towards the stables.

[featheredflames]

Joshua is, admittedly, sad to see his brother go, even if it is for the best that there are no more distractions during the fitting. It seems to be the right course of action however, for the attendants finish up their duty soon after. Released from his prison of pins and fabric, Joshua is quick to dress in simpler attire for the stables. It does not take him long to find his brother, and he smiles in greeting, hurrying over with a bounce in his step.

"Clive!" He waves to him, slowing to a stop as he comes to the entranceway. The smell of birds and hay is an overpowering scent, but it is welcome in its own way to a boy who always spent far too much time inside. "Have I kept you waiting long?"

[flamebrand]

Clive, a black-and-red shadow in the dim of the stables, brightens at the sight of Joshua approaching, and straightens from where he'd laid out the promised greens on top of a few overturned crates. There will always be something touching about his brother having grown into better health over the years; Clive still worries, but some of the constant vigilance has waned over time.

"Joshua." A greeting, as he wipes his hand on his leg. Casual, even. Foregoing Your Grace, as there's no one around to posture for. "Not at all. You've done far more waiting today than I have."

An ordeal and a half, fittings. Behind Clive, Ambrosia lifts her head at the sound of Joshua's voice, and crows enthusiastically in greeting. Her other favorite Rosfield!!!

[featheredflames]

As much as Joshua enjoys Clive fussing over him, his genuine worry is something that has always left him feeling guilty. Being indulged and doted on is one thing, but the last thing he's wanted ever is to be the source of undue stress for his brother. Thankfully in recent years that has changed somewhat. Even so, Clive would always be overprotective.

Grin splitting across his face he joins Clive at his side before his attention is, naturally diverted to Ambrosia. She's eager to greet him and he in turn cannot help but laugh, reaching out with his hands to stroke her beak and feathers.

"Oh, if it isn't Her Highness." Yes, Ambrosia is chocobo royalty, as far as Joshua has always been concerned. "Have you been keeping well?"

[flamebrand]

More happy trilling from Ambrosia, who leans to nuzzle her face against Joshua's hair, his cheek. It's as much of an answer to how she's been as anything can be, though she also projects her discontent at being neglected (dramatic― it really hasn't been that long since Joshua last visited) by flapping her wings and urging Joshua closer with a few insistent chirps.

"She still thinks you to be eight, not eighteen," Clive observes, which is met with another little wiggle on Ambrosia's part, and a clicking of her beak. Silence, big Rosfield! The birds are talking!

[featheredflames]

"Well, she is still bigger than I am." He huffs out a laugh at her outburst, moving closer to obey her order. Her wiggles and chirping are, as always, charming, and Joshua is more than happy to indulge the chocobo in whatever way he can.

"Will I always be your chick, Ambrosia? I do not think I can easily fit beneath your wings as I once did." But that doesn't stop him from looping his arms around her neck. Whatever stress he had been carrying in his shoulders earlier melts away on contact.

"What a lovely bird you are."

[flamebrand]

Two lovely birds, as far as Clive is concerned. It's hard to keep his expression from sliding towards this side of doting, but the sentiment is clear on Clive's face anyway: blue eyes pool soft and warm, and his lips settle into a relaxed, settled arc as he watches Ambrosia nest around Joshua as best she can.

Very sweet. If Ambrosia had the standard chocobo coloring, they really might have been mistaken for a mother and her chick.

"Careful, brother. She may want to keep you for the rest of the night."

A step forward, and Clive touches his palm to the small of Joshua's back. To steady him, is his excuse― in truth, it's only an excuse to touch.

[featheredflames]

"As much as I would love to stay the night with such a lovely lady, I have prior arrangements."

He grins cheekily toward his brother, unable to help keep the warm blush from his cheeks when he feels Clive's palm steady him. He leans into the touch ever so slightly, just because he can. It's fine, is it not?

Ambrosia seems to be disappointed that she can't have Joshua all to herself, but he quickly placates her with a promise of fresh greens. "We brought you treats, since you so very much deserve them."

[flamebrand]

Joshua lists closer, and Clive can smell him even above the scent of hay and bird: parchment, ink, incense. Something warm and wicked blooms in the pit of his stomach, a desire that simmers every time his brother breaches the carefully-curated walls of Clive's personal space.

It isn't done, to want Joshua the way he does. Flesh and blood, Twin Flames. Clive already has him in every way that should matter; anything else would be ruinous.

Still, he leans, and noses against soft blond hair. The hungry creature in his chest rumbles in affirmation, whispers yes yes yes in Ifrit's sandpaper hiss―

―but Ambrosia snaps Clive out of his reverie with a rather emphatic chirp, indicating that the elder Rosfield should let go of her baby so that she can have the treats she deserves. No funny business, on her watch.

"...The greens. Right." Clive clears his throat, and steps away to fetch the items in question to hold out for Joshua to take.

[featheredflames]

No, there will be no delaying her treats if Ambrosia has any say in the matter. In a way she is a godsend, for Joshua finds himself holding his breath when the warmth of his brother's dampens the nape of his neck. He isn't expecting Clive to draw closer, to nose him the way Torgal would. Did he smell good? Was something wrong? Or did he feel it too, that inexplicable draw...

Founder bless the bird before him, for if Clive hadn't pulled away he may have turned to kiss him.

Ah...did he really just think that?

Taking the offered greens he gingerly turns to Ambrosia, sheepish. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Your Highness."

[flamebrand]

While his brother is busy with Ambrosia, Clive takes a few steps back to watch from a safe distance, arms folded across his chest to keep his wandering hands in check. He'd assumed that time would allay the simmering wrongness brewing under his skin, and that he would compose himself enough not to let terrible compulsions overtake his reason.

That hasn't been the case. The itch grows harder to ignore, year by year and day by day; Clive's love has metastasized into something beyond excising. Beyond duty or obligation or familial affection.

But it's impossible, he knows, to stop loving Joshua in any way, so the next thing out of his mouth is as fond as he ever is.

"You two make a pretty picture."