Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s difficult not to panic under the heavy weight of the Illuminary Gala; the lights, the colours, the sounds, and the guests, and the atmosphere is all choking full of life and laughter and this odd, electric-buzz in the air that cloaks over your skin like static and lingers long enough to insight even the most stoic with an overload of stimuli.

Coming from a place so devoid of life that even his own body is a whirr of silent machinery, Kyprian is overwhelmed. It takes all his self-control not to just keel over and succumbed to anxiety and anticipation. He has diplomatic meetings to speak of the Cosmic Solarium and discuss inter-remnant peace starting soon (in the sort of way that assumes time moves at a constant, linear pace, although he has been told that here it does not do that) and hyperventilating out his feelings really will only cause a scene and screw with some of his more metal parts so he doesn’t really have the luxury of having a panic attack in the middle of this party.

To be perfectly honest, he doesn’t want to be panicking, either. As much as this all is, it’s new and exciting and the curiosity in him yearns to ask questions and dive into their culture and knowledge. Even this mask sitting on his face is supposedly magic, and what does that even mean? Is magic a form of science? Is it studied can it be explained? He yearns to speak with the tree advisor he knows is organising this, but they seem so busy and the only others the commander knows of are the princess and her…Father? Dad? (he doesn’t want to be presumptuous and assume all the elves he’s met are related but the gruff older elf had certainly acted like her parent, and though she had spoken of a king father somewhere in the forest recharging a tree [which how does that even work?! are elves batteries???] Kyprian knows not enough of elven culture to find if having two male parental figures is typical here or not and he is most certain asking for a clarification would be rude) Both of whom are intensely busy right now as well.

He stands painfully alone, wishing that perhaps his other delegate had stuck around to keep him company instead of wandering off to investigate giant flowers. Or for some foreign conversation, but most of the bird people and sentient trees and elves are all giving him the sort of glare he often refers to as the ‘Elliot-Look’, that is if they even look at him as opposing to ignoring him and the other outer-remnant guests completely. So ultimately he just stands alone by himself in a vast crowd watching the blur of stranger faces this ‘illusionary-mask’ has supposedly created and he feels so. Lonely.

Which is, perhaps, why he so awkwardly yelps when an arm is suddenly slung along his shoulders, a lithe body pressed up tight against his side and a grinning smile in his face.

“And who might you be?” A voice croons, an undeniably amused voice even under the confusing disguise of magic vibrating amongst it like the distant hum of a computer fan. Kyprian opens his mouth to answer, but he isn’t given much time as “Oh, you’re one of those visiting guests, aren’t you? From those other worlds with their charming machinations and beastly fashion.”

He can’t help but feel like he’s just been insulted, but it’s difficult to tell. “Yes, I’m Commander Kyprian of the Cosmic Solari-“

“Oooh, the sky world, isn’t it? Oh, you must be so interested in our little soiree, hm? So novel to invite outsiders to the gala, quite a mess of innovation but we can’t really blame Celly for the lack of protocol, it’s not like we’ve known outsiders before. Of course, what happened at the last gala doesn’t help, but that wasn’t her fault.” The stranger’s voice wanes between amused and condescending and Kyprian can’t quite figure out if it’s supposed to sound like that or if it’s just the magic.

“You know the princess?” He asks, looking at what is most certainly an elf standing right in his personal space.

“Oh Celly? Of course, me and her grew up in the court together! She’s always been so sensitive, I really worry about her sometimes.” Is the voice insincere? So hard to say. “But you don’t really want to hear about that, no? You want to know about us, our world and culture, hm? Oh, let’s walk and talk darling! Keep hold of my arm, don’t want to lose such titillating company in the illusion, yes?”

Suddenly Kyprian’s arm is being tucked into the crook of the elf’s and he’s being swept away into a crowd of dancers, a voice at his ear to make sure he can hear all the words being spoken of magic and enchanted forests and withering.  

He knows he’s blushing, but perhaps the mask will illusion that away too.

Chapter Text

Dynrial is excellent company. Kyprian certainly found the right individual to help him navigate through this long, confusing night. For one, he’s familiar with the court politics, something Kyprian has been fearing facing since he first started preparing for the gala. He’s also well versed in magic and knows the royal family. Soon the commander is caught up on the history of the forest, as well as the newest interferences with the royal line, the failures of the current political climate, the fashion and the culture.

He learns all this and more as the lithe elf leads him in dance after dance, speaking in a low voice in Kyprian’s ear, pretending he doesn’t notice when the commander fumbles a step or almost runs into another pair of dancers. It’s like something out of a fiction story, something ancient and Golden Age that he doesn’t quite know how to process. The atmosphere does not help; the music is loud and a constant presence in the air, which itself is heady with aromas his brain does not know how to process. Bodies press from all directions, and voices murmur in a constant buzz. He has no idea what they’re saying, but he can feel eyes on him with every step.

He’s afraid, not that he’ll admit it. The upcoming summits here mean far too much to the Solarium for failure to even be an option. They need the allies, need the help, and support. Need to know.

“You doing alright there, skyman?” The lilting tone of Dynrial is at his ear, a hand moving from where it was holding the commander’s waist to cup his chin, tilt it so they’re looking into each other’s eyes. “Seemed to be dreaming off there for a moment. Am I not entertaining enough?”

“Oh no, you’re plenty…Entertaining.” His ears burning. “Apologies this is just…”

“Overwhelming?” Dynrial smiles understandingly, though the lights of the ball make him appear far more condescending (it is the lighting that puts such a glint in his eyes…right?). “Oh, I understand. You foreigners must not be used to such delights. I can’t possibly imagine you have such wonders in your quaint little world.”

“Well, we certainly don’t have such decadent parties.” Kyprian chuckles in good nature. “We’ve had supply issues for some time now. With few resources, something like this would only be partaken by those on the upper decks and even then…Well, it wouldn’t be in good taste.”

“Hmm…” The elf takes a lock of the commander’s hair between his fingers, twirls and combs through them. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to forgive all you crass foreigners. I’m sure the court will understand the lack of manners here. Even as traditions are being broken left and right.”

“Broken? I was under the impression this is how the ball is supposed to be?” Was this not a genuine representation of Enchanted Forest Culture?

“Well it is…If you don’t count all the forbidden rituals and questionable decisions our poor Celly has made. She must be under so much stress, I cannot even believe how else such poor choices would be made. Certainly, we all know how supposedly capable that dryad of hers is, but they’re so young! How are we supposed to trust an infant with dangerous magic?”

“I see why that would be concerning…” The commander didn’t know much about the princess past the information he’d been given by the visiting students to the Solarium, and brief correspondence concerning the gala. “I hadn’t realized things were so unstable right now…”

“Oh yes! I’m so worried about her! I mean, with all the rumours in the court about what really happened at the last Gala, and all these unwise decisions, people are having trouble trusting the poor dear. It’s cruel, but I really can’t blame them. Who would want to put their lives in the hands of someone who’s almost doomed us all twice?”

“I suppose…” Kyprian tries not to let the unease show on his face, but evidently he’s fairly easy to read.

“Look at me, killing the mood like this. Come, come, let’s just dance for a few songs. Then you can tell me about your sky realm.” The elven noble tugs Kyprian closer, till their hips are practically flush. The commander can feel heat creep up his neck, flushing from head to toe as Dynrial reaches up and cups the back of his skull, fingers running into his tightly bound ponytail. “Just pay attention to my charming self, pretty. I’ll lead you where you need to go.”

Even through the magic and the masks, Dynrial’s gaze is haunting.

“…Of course.” Kyprian breathes.

Several songs later and the two have parted ways, Dynrial placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Kyprian’s mouth and waving coquettishly before disappearing into the crowd of masks with a wink and a flip of his opalescent hair.

Left to his own devices again, the commander finds himself lost at what to do.  He hovers, once again nervous in a crowd of strangers. It’s not too soon that he finds himself in conversation, though. In but a few stark moments he’s surrounded by illusioned faces of dryads and avoreals and elves, many of which belong to the court. They welcome themselves to speak to him of his own remnants, of relations and magic and he can’t help but feel that in all a few moments he’s managed to insult several dignitaries and made himself look like a right fool.

He can’t help but feel like he’s done something stupid. The only saving grace is the students of Hope, who continue to help him in his search for more information. But as the night goes on it becomes clear that everyone is far too busy worrying about their own problems. There’s tension in the air, arguments breaking out. One guest draws a sword, another growls at an avoreal. There’s shouting and cursing and he watches in horror as a spectacle takes place between the Princess’s chef dad and an avoreal with giant goggles. When the argument ends in tears and shouting from a big old bird, he finds he can’t take the pressure anymore and uses the crowd’s distraction to slip away into the shadows.

Tucked into a corner, lit by the light of his cybernetics and watching those dizzying crowds, Kyprian wishes he was back on the Bridge, looking out over the cosmic void that surrounded the Solarium. Food crises were preferable to this. Hell, even a conversation with Elliot was better than all this worrying and guessing and failing.

“And what has you looking so down?” The familiar, lilting voice at his ear is welcome enough for him to let out a breath of relief.

“Dynrial?” He looks up and sure enough, the noble elf is standing at his side, smiling sweetly and holding out a glass to him.

“Commander.” The glasses are full of a lovely berry-coloured liquid, that which Kyprian knows to be a rather archaic form of alcohol developed by fermenting fruit. Apparently it was quite traditional here. “Not having a good time? Here, drink up, tell me what’s wrong?” He sure that the slightly patronizing tone he’s picking up is just the influence of the music.

“Thank you.” Kyprian accepts the glass, sipping and savouring the sweet drink. Dynrial drinks form his own glass, taking purchase up against the wall right next to the commander, pressed up shoulder to shoulder. “This is just…Well, I’ll admit this is a bit too much for me.”

“Understandable. And all this drama cannot be possibly helping, now can it?”

“Not really, yes.” The drink warms him from the inside out, makes it easier to breath almost. He takes a longer swallow, letting the flavor sit on his tongue. It’s impossible to ignore the way Dynrial’s eyes follow his glass, how a tongue darts out against soft lips… “Ah um…” He’s blushing. Has he ever stopped blushing since he stepped in the room? He feels so warm, almost feverish… “It seems the Princess is very stressed right now.”

“Oh yes, the poor dear.” Something doesn’t seem completely sincere in the elf’s pout. “That fiasco with the old hunter and his pet avoreal couldn’t have possibly helped. And old Bird Brain over there making a scene over the whole thing? It’s as if he wants the ball to fail.”

“That…General, is it? He doesn’t seem very pleased with the gala…”

“Well, Thelvoskye’s a bit of an isolationist. Old fashion type, doesn’t really like the noveau, you see. He didn’t even want the Princess to invite you foreigners in the first place, convinced they were going to take down the Forest. Can’t really blame him; not that you aren’t all sweet, but all these strange people just showing up out of the Withering, it is suspicious.”

Well that didn’t really sound like the best way to put it…

“I suppose…”

Dynrial looks sideways at the commander, frowning. “Oh you poor dear, you need a break, don’t you? Well come on, drink up, let’s get you some air.” He drains his own glass and gestures for Kyprian to do the same, which he hesitantly follows, before both empty glasses disappear into thin air and the commander finds himself being swept along again by the elf wrapped around his arm.

Chapter Text

Outside in the gardens, away from the crowds and the judgmental gazes, it’s easier for Kyprian to breath. Dynrial leads them both to a bench tucked behind large bushes, away from sight. The flora around them is just blooming, giving off a beautiful, humming glow. Kyprian is briefly distracted by this fascinating life before him, he doesn’t even notice Dynrial sitting so close to him their thighs are pressed together.

“Moon violets.” He jolts with warm breath washes over his cheek, but it’s just Dynrial at his shoulder, staring down at the glowing flowers.

“Huh?” Kyprian flushes as all he can conjure to say is a noise of confusion.

“The flowers. They’re called moon violets.” Dynrial reaches past Kyprian to brush his hands against the flowers, though the action brings them even closer together, the elf’s chest right up against the commander’s back. “They only bloom on this night. Typically they’re a centerpiece in the gala decoration, but perhaps Celly’s dear little advisor didn’t find it necessary.” His tone is patronizing, even as he runs his fingers along the soft petals, which seem to glow even brighter at the contact.

“We have bioluminescent plants in the Cosmic Solarium but not quite like this…” He murmurs in awe, afraid to raise his voice as if it will scare away the shimmering flowers. “Some of our scientists worked on crossing plant dna with that from phytoplankton to produce a constant glow in the dark. It saves on lighting costs in the greenhouses. But this is…”

“Well, of course it’s different,” Dynrial chuckles, “They’re magic.”

Kyprian finds himself staring in wonder, unable to break his gaze away from the flowers. Certainly, he had seen enough magic tonight to know of its existence, to know it to be real and raw and powerful but…Up close like this, seeing the waves of energy cascading off these little flowers like the heat of an energy grid, magic seems so much more real than it had from afar.

“Obviously, growth magic is the most prevalent in all plant life,” Kyprian jolts as Dynrial rests his chin on the commander’s bare shoulder, all too aware of every point of contact between their bodies. “But the discipline that makes up moon violets is mostly dream magic, although it’s tertiary element is charm magic. But charm magic and dream magic are so intertwined that you almost always see them together. Anyways, because dream magic is such an important element to this event, it’s obvious that we draw a lot of importance from components like the moon violet.”

“You’re very…Learned in magic, I take it?”

“Hmph, I’ll have you know I’m one of the most skilled of the court when it comes to magic, especially charm magic. Obviously.” Kyprian can’t see it, but he’s pretty positive Dynrial winks at him. “My inspiration was built around my magical expertise.”

“Then can you…” Kyprian frowns, disentangling himself from Dynrial so he can face him. The movement basically puts him and Dynrial in each other’s laps, but neither really seem to notice. “Well, it’s just I don’t understand magic at all. It doesn’t seem dissimilar to the science we use in the Solarium, but it also is so different in many aspects. For one, magic defies our know laws of science, things like biology and physics broken by these unimaginable concepts that you here in the Forest seem to perform with ease.”

Dynrial’s head tips to one side, thoughtful. “I don’t know all those words you’re using, but I sort of get the concept; you have set laws that define your world that magic doesn’t fall under, right? But we have our own set laws here. Magic is as entwined into the world here as…Physics, is it? Applies to your remnant. Maybe your physics is our magic.”

Kyprian frowns, thinking this out. The analogy doesn’t line up quite right, but he’s onto something. “The weird thing is, though, that physics applies here too! Like the concept of gravity; the force that keeps you tethered to the ground instead of drifting away. That’s a physics concept, which is a discipline in science and is obviously does apply here. Objects fall when you drop them. Gravity effects matter here.”

Dynrial perks up, snapping his fingers. “Oh, I see. Hm…No I get it.” He points at Kyprian. “Your science is our magic, right? Physics is similar to…A class of magic. For instance, we have a concept for the same thing you call gravity, I think; the property of earth magic vs air. Earth magic ties us to the ground, keeping us tied down, right? We are drawn to the ground because Earth magic pulls us towards it. However this property can be overturned by avoreals, who have the ability to reject earth magic, allowing them to fly. Well, that’s an oversimplification of the property, but you get the point.”

“So magic is just your explanation for the world in the way science is? Or moreso…Maybe magic is just a different form of science. Like a discipline!” Kyprian finds himself wishing he’d brought something to take notes with, but he’d left most of his notation devices back inside the Gala. This was a fascinating conversation of cultural comparison. Maybe if he brought back concepts like this to the Bridge Crew they’d be more open to negotiations between remnants. After all, those stuffy crust folk who saw the Enchanted Forest as classless and primitive just needed to know that they had their own versions of science technology, right?

…Right?

Dynrial seems just as engaged. He talks with his hands, gesturing about. “In a lot of ways, they do seem similar. But I think the approach sounds very different. We don’t use magic to explain our lives, it is so intrinsically entwined in them. Magic just is our lives. It’s there in the food we cook and the jobs we perform. Merely traversing the forest is an act of interacting with magic. Don’t get me wrong, there are studies of it, but no one would ever need to question why things function the way they do…Because the answer is always ‘it’s magic’.”

Kyprian’s eyes widen, excitedly gesturing as well now. He refuses to admit that he’s losing his composure a little in the excitement. “Science is like that, very much so. However, most that I know do not dwell on that aspect. They don’t recognize the chemistry in their food, the physics in their movement, the complex anatomy and physiology that make their bodies perform actions. The answer to every question is ‘It’s Science!’ but people reject that sort of explanation. It’s a total shame that people don’t want to understand the complexities of knowledge that are intrinsically tied to their everyday lives. Because it’s ALL SCIENCE, Dynrial. But science isn’t just this simple explanation, it’s…It’s everything! I’ve always thought that…That…Sorry, is there something on my face?”

Kyprian suddenly notices that Dynrial is staring at him, eyes heavily lidded  gaze fixated on his lips. Kyprian reaches up a hand instinctively to touch his face, like he’ll find some imperfection there, gasping softly when Dynrial snatches his cybernetic hand in one of his own.

“You’re just so…adorable.” Dynrial murmurs, holding Kyprian’s hand up to his own lips and pressing a chaste kiss there. In effective because of  course the hand is metal, but Kyprian still blushes like he can feel the soft press of the elf’s lips. “And I totally get it, you know? Magic is a beautiful part of our lives but it’s also fascinating and some people don’t see it that way. And look I’m not like…A total nerd about it like Celly’s advisor, but I find the way it makes everything so interesting…I love interesting things, you know?”

Kyprian gets the feeling he’s not entirely talking about just magic anymore. He also feels like he should be a little insulted by that ‘total nerd’ comment, but he’s a bit too busy staring back at Dynrial. It’s so unexpected to meet someone who he can really talk to like this on a diplomatic mission.

“Knowledge, in general, is just so important, in ways I cannot even begin to understand why people reject it so much. Every time I present concepts to the Bridge Crew they just act like…Like the facts aren’t there.” He’s terrified that he’ll go back after this gala and have everything he come to see that is magic be utterly rejected like…Like it never happened. But talking about it like this…Acknowledging that it has a science to it. It’s comforting. Knowledge. Facts. That’s all he needs. “Do you…Do you have any learning material I could borrow? About magic, that is?”

“Pfft of course I do! My family has a very large library. Full of bookshelves that are perfect for hiding in the shadows of…Super comfy! Maybe we meet up after the Gala and I…Show you around?” Dynrial smirks. His hand is on Kyprian’s chest and he’s leaning real close and Kyp has no idea when any of these things happened. “But that’s boring talk for later. We are at a party after all, hm?”

Kyprian flushes to the best of his ability, the whir of his cybernetics now embarrassingly loud. Dynrial seems to notice too, because his lips curl up and he suddenly looks at Kyprian’s chest like he’s super interested in it.

“Ah RIGHT! OF course!” Kyprian’s voice sounds embarrassingly high in his own ear. “For now, how about we just keep-“

“Hush…” Dynrial murmurs, placing a finger to Kyprian’s lips. “I know exactly what we’re going to do.”

How it went from talking amiably about magic to being pressed up against a wall out of sight from the general population, a knee between his thighs and a hot mouth at his neck, Kyprian feels like he has no idea.

He does know that he’s blushing far brighter than he has in years, certain his circuits are overheating with all this attention. And the noises he’s making are…Well, indecent to say the least. He almost sighs in relief when his mouth is covered by Dynrial’s own lips, taking away his ability to draw attention to the two men making out in the corner of the ball.

“You’re delightful~” Dynrial purrs when the kiss ends. Kyprian is panting, breathless and overstimulated in a number of ways. He can feel the energy thrum through his cybernetics like pumping blood, the whirring of fans as they try to cool down his rapidly heating body. “Who knew outsiders could be so…Charming.”

“Ah uh you yourself are quite…Nice…” The commander breaths out. Oh stars, they’re so close to each other… “I really must thank you for helping me so much tonight. I-I suppose without you I would have ended up sitting in a corner, panicking.” He probably shouldn’t have admitted that but in his defense, it has been a really long night.

“It was no problem.” Dynrial is smiling, pleased and perhaps a bit too sharp. He covers it with Kyprian’s own skin, going back to kissing his neck and tonguing along the line between skin and cybernetics. Kyprian did know the skin was sensitive there but he did not know it was that sensitive.

The last time he had been so close to someone, so close and intimate, he’d still been a teenager; unskilled and afraid to pass unspoken boundaries. Now grown, he is still both of those things. His partner isn’t, though, and does not seem to shy away at Kyprian’s inexperience. In fact, he seems to more than revel at the reactions at the commander’s sensitive reactions to being touched.

Between gasps is when he notices it; the princess has come out again, mask in hand. “Ah, what’s going on?”

“We’re kissing? I thought that was universally understood across cultures.” Dynrial pauses his ministrations to look at Kyprian ruefully.

“That doesn’t sound true…But, no I meant,” He gestures over the elf’s shoulder. “The Princess.”

Dynrial’s eyes almost seem to glow behind the mask at these words. “Oh she’s finally conversing! Sorry dewdrop, I have some business to attend too.”

With one final, swift kiss the elf is gone and Kyprian is once again left alone.

Knowing he looks thoroughly disheveled, the commander tries to compose himself before going back into the crowds. He can tell it doesn’t quite work, though. The forest nobles keep giggling behind his back, exchanging sly looks. He feels like an animal being observed in a cage. It’s stifling…

Thankfully, he is not the center of attention to moment the princess loses her composure, shouting at everyone and seething. Not a few minutes later there are swords to hand out, and some very concerned looking faces. What in the world was happening? In all this hedonism and indulgence he had failed to notice just how bad the ball was going. Across the room two figures were arguing loudly, another absolutely sobbing against the wall. Everyone looks nervous and on edge, there’s no sign of the princess and…The air felt wrong.

A handful of disastrous conversations later and Kyprian feels like the butt end of a joke, countlessly fumbling over his words and somehow saying all the wrong things.

When it all comes to a head, he’s heartbroken. Dynrial had been playing him…Of course. Wasn’t that always how it worked? How foolish of him to trust anyone showing interest in him. Of course it was false, of course there was no earnestness there. After all, who would actually enjoy his company?