His plan was to avoid the male lead but-
Solveig arrives the next day, and the day after, and the day after that.
The repeated visits are starting to really get to Cadeyrn, but no matter how curt he is with Solveig he keeps lingering, and it’s not like Asterius can just toss the male lead out of his house, (he’s already tried asking the System and just got a static-ing red screen in his face, so that’s a hard no).
But even if he’s been forced to play semi-nice with the male lead and entertain his constant harassment of more information about Maria –
How did they get here exactly?
With him awkwardly sitting between Cadeyrn and Solveig, the two of them glaring over top of his head as they have afternoon tea at the crystal dining table?
[Host is the one who started this] The System reminds. He tightens the grip on his teacup, forcing himself to take a sip of the leaf juice. He never really was a fan of tea, more of a coffee person, but the OG Asterius seemed to have been a bit of a connoisseur of the stuff.
Asterius (the current one stuck between two peacocking gods) did not know this, not until Solveig showed up this morning, with a golden tin and practically forced it into his arms. He claimed it was a present from their sister, and that he should stop ignoring her.
It was not the first time Solvieg had brought up Ilona, quoting that he should answer her letters. After the Blood Sun had left last time, he had given Cadeyrn a curious look. The Demon had quickly scoffed and claimed very bluntly, “The brat never writes letters, why would she start now?” The System didn’t deny that statement, so it seemed to be the truth, which meant for some reason, Solveig was lying.
But now stuck with what was obviously high-quality tea and completely dumbfounded on what to do with it, his brain grabbed the first related piece of information it had, “Are we throwing a tea party?”
And before he could backpedal, Solveig was smiling and nodding, stepping into the house as though that was an invitation, “I could spare a few minutes for my brother.”
Brother. That was the first time Solvieg had acknowledged what they were. Cadeyrn had huffed and snatched the tea, stalking into the kitchen to get it ready. Silently he thanked the demon and promised himself to get Solvieg to leave as quickly as he could. And that plan seemed to have backfired completely, because the feared heaven’s vanguard chose to sit right next to him at the grand table, close enough that his golden armor was jamming into his side. It hurt, but it’s not like he could complain about it. The System was hovering over his shoulder, edges a permanent red, watching like a hawk.
Flashing a blindingly bright red anytime he even had an OOC thought. It was infuriating and so showy it was making his eyes dance with spots, surely making him act even more OOC.
Thankfully Cadeyrn comes back before too long. Pausing in the doorway as his gaze lands on Solveig causally relaxing in the chair next to him. Something shifts in Cadeyrn’s face as he swiftly walks over, setting the tray of steaming tea down on the glittering table with more force than necessary. Asterius tries to convey his apologies for the situation with his gaze, Cadeyrn must get some of it because his shoulders un-tense a fraction. Still, the demon scoops up Pluma (who was sitting on his other side), and deposits the little angel into Asterius's lap, taking the seat next to him.
Solvieg frowns, side-eyeing Cadeyrn, as he makes a show of causally stretching out his hand to drape it over the back of Asterius’s chair, “You let this thing sit at the table with you?”
Asterius stiffens not just from the rude remark, but because his gauntlet is now digging into the back of his neck. The little swarm of stars around him chime unhappily, circling around Solveig’s arm as if to push it off. He appreciates the gesture even if he knows they couldn’t really do anything.
Cadeyrn for his part doesn't react at all, keeping the same impassive blank face as he finishes setting up the tea, making a show of pouring the steaming liquid into the glittering cups. Distantly he remembers something about drinks being served in order of importance. Despite being arguably more powerful than Solveig (not in fighting abilities, just force of divinity), Solvieg definitely ranked higher than him on the hierarchy, he was one of the suns after all. Yet, Cadeyrn hands Asterius the first cup, staring intently at Solvieg as if daring him to complain.
Asterius just closes his eyes for a moment, briefly scolding the demon in his brain for still trying to pick a fight with the most powerful Celestial. Strangely though, Solveig doesn’t seem offended by the gesture, in fact, Asterius would almost say he looks amused, going so far as to push the steaming cup closer to Asterius. Gracelessly accepting the second cup with a wide grin.
It feels like a trap. Solveig was acting, dare he say it, semi-pleasant today. He was strung so tight, waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s no way he was just here for tea right? (Asterius has to force down the part of him that remembers family being something warm and safe. That was when he was human, gods have far more time to hold grudges and let resentment grow).
He takes a careful sip of his tea. It takes a monumental effort not to let the disgusted shiver race down his spine, the tea is horrible! Dark and rich, tasting so strongly of herbal plants, Asterius has a violent flashback to all the horrible poorly flavored medicine he had to take as a child.
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Pluma looks up at him curiously from his lap, and Cadeyrn slides the tiniest bit closer, but if Solvieg notices anything weird, he makes no outward show of it, just takes a sip of his own tea with a pleased hum.
‘Glad someone is having fun,’ he snarks in his own head, immediately the System window is in his face.
[☹. Host…]
‘I’m allowed to think mean thoughts,’ he protests, forcing himself to take another sip, ‘he’s not a mind reader!’
Solveig swirls the tea around in his cup, “The Golden Sun Lily,” he says, pausing as if somehow Asterius is supposed to know what the hell he’s talking about. “You wanted one, right?” he asks, voice stuttering now with uncertainty in the face of Asterius’s raised disbelieving eyebrow.
He hums, a non-committal sound as his brain races, trying to remember if that plant is somehow important, thankfully Solveig continues before he has to say anything, “Ilona wants one.”
“And?”
“Well-,” Solveig stutters, shifting his gaze away to star at the curtained windows, “would you-I mean do you want- I can-.” Solveig stops his own rambling with a heavy sigh.
“Master already has one,” Cadeyrn cuts in, taking a graceful sip of his own tea. It’s stubbornly unfair how he can so easily make the simplest movements so beautiful to watch. “I acquired one several years back.”
Solveig growls over his shoulder, “and how did a demon find such a rare Celestial plant?”
There is an acquisition there, Solveig’s voice filled with divine fire and bubbling heavenly furry. Asterius has no idea why this stupid flower has so much meaning, but he knows he can’t let the two of them continue to argue.
“It is merely a flower,” he says, forcing his voice into an even and bored tone, “take it if means so much to you.”
“That was no what i-,” Solvieg cuts himself off with a frustrated growl, turning sharply as his hair glows with sparking flames. “Nothing is ever easy with you brother.”
And this time, brother is said like a curse. Holding none of the familial love he is used to hearing in the term. It tugs at something in his chest, overlaps with the image of Beth, smiling widely at him as she starches out the ‘o’. Her voice is dripping with mirth and sarcasm, but still the term hangs in the air like an important meaningful thing. (It aches, even as he forces her laugh out of his mind.)
Solveig keeps his gaze trained away from him, even as Pluma puffs up in his lap, feathers ruffling with a low growl, “It’s always like this with you. We’re all just a game for you to play, everything fine as long as nothing is out of place.”
Asterius does not know what that is supposed to mean, an insult most likely born from dozens of arguments, a hurt he has no context on the full meaning of, it does not stop him from snapping back, “Well I’m quite done with this game.”
He knows it was a mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth.
The temperature sharply spikes as Solveig spins to face him, “You-!“
“Ouch-,” Asterius cuts himself off with a hiss, flinching back as his hand automatically moves up to cover his stinging arm. Solveig had thrown his whole body into that turn, roughly pulling back the arm still slung around Asterius’s shoulders. The golden armor was meant for war, covered in sharp points and spikes, it had easily cut through his robe, tearing through flesh as easily as silk. Shimmering silver blood stains down his sleeve, dyeing the purple robe a light lilac.
Everything seems to freeze, the very world seeming to hold its breath. Asterius looks up, locking eyes with Solvieg’s frightened face, his eyes locked onto the wound and the silver blood staining his own golden armor.
“CRACK!”
Cadeyrn’s cup is fractured under his grip, porcelain and dark black liquid staining the crystalline table. His eyes are a blinding red, brighter than they had ever been before, ice dusts the table, and the silver binds on his arms flair a bright white as he growls. Asterius barely has time to process all of this, before Cadeyrn is on his feet, lunging for the Heaven’s Vanguard like a rabid wolf.
“Cadeyrn!” he protests, fear overtaking him as he grabs the demon around the middle, finches slightly as it pulls on his arm.
Instantly Cadeyrn stops. Going rigid in his hold, carefully looking down to meet Asterius’s gaze. His look is unreadable, Asterius has no idea what he’s thinking, why he got so mad, but still Cadeyrn seems to temper some of his fury, the light dimming on his bindings.
Still holding onto Cadeyrn’s shoulders he turns back around to Solveig.
The feared god of the Blood Sun sits on the edge of his chair, worry etched onto his face, maybe afraid Asterius would seek some sort of repayment, but he was just tired. Solveig was stressing him out and he just wanted to crawl back into bed and waste away the time, watching Cadeyrn work in the garden or playing with Pluma.
“Asterius, I didn’t-,” he holds up a hand, cutting off Solvieg and stopping Cadeyrn from saying anything. The demon looks one moment from reaching across the table and stabbing Solveig, something that would probably get them both killed.
“Just leave Solvieg,” he sighs turning away from the Celestial to face Cadeyrn, giving the demon a pointed look to calm down. Cadeyrn bristles but stops glaring at Solvieg, instead moving forward to gently take his arm, evaluating the damage.
“But-,”
“Master said leave!” Pluma growls, puffing up his feathers, sharp talons digging into Asterius’s shoulder, though never hard enough to cause damage.
He couldn’t see Solvieg anymore, was busy watching the silvery blood trickle out of his cut. It was a superficial wound, the blood was already starting to slow, it would be nothing more than a minor inconvenience for a day. Truthfully it had startled him more than it had hurt. But he knows that Heavens’ Vanguard is still at his back, and he’s not going to leave anytime soon unless Asterius makes him, maybe this time he would finally listen.
“Leave us God of the Blood Sun,” it is not an order, but a formal request, he weaponizes the title in the same way Solveig had tried with their family ties, “Celestia’s renowned Vanguard surely has more important matters to attend to then harassing his older brother.”
“I-,” Solveig starts to protest before seeming to change his mind, “I’ll get back to my duties then.” And he spins on his heel and leaves. The door slams back into its frame hard enough to rattle the very walls of the little cottage. The complex mobile of stars over their heads twinkles and chimes as stars shift violently off course. Looking up into the new pattern of stars, there is not one constellation that he recognizes.