vineleaves | Open: And they're gonna bend their branches down to lay their fruit upon the ground

"We're in agreement, then. I'm lucky to have so many allies in love here," he says in a teasing tone, though it is a rare and wondrous thing. Claudius's old watchword was secrecy -- he spoke seldom of his lovers, even to wish them well. In Elsinore, his well wishes were sometimes more reason for King Hamlet to target somebody.

"We are quite a nice little polycule, huh?"

“A polycule,” Claudius repeats with delight. “Is that what we’re calling it? It sounds Greek — like you yourself, I suppose.”

He laughs. "I guess partially. I believe it's a combination of 'polyamory' and 'molecule', because if you draw a little diagram of everyone involved with lines going between who's in a relationship with who, it sort of looks like how scientists draw pictures of molecules."

“I adore pictures of molecules,” Claudius says with utter sincerity, leaning upon the counter. “It’s fascinating to imagine the connective bonds at the heart of all matter. Attractive forces, you know.” The last he says with an illustrative circling of his hands.

"You've been teaching Mercutio about... uh, science stuff, right? You should offer up classes for everyone. I mean, if you want to. You're very smart." And Dionysus doesn't know a ton about science, which is to say he knows very little about science.

Claudius glows with the praise. "Wouldst thou believe I've never been to a university? My brother believed I had a low cunning, and too much learning would only whet it to a blade I could bury in his back. Well, he was right, but I educated myself on that point. So much studying in secrecy. But here I've a fellow-student in Laertes, and many others have joined me. Mercutio, Magnus, Tress at times, and perhaps Gideon --" He counts them off on his fingers -- he has collected quite a bevy of young people around him. "Dost think others would be interested?"

"I think so! Look how many people came to my wine class, after all. Even people who don't drink were there! I think, given nobody here has to devote any time or energy into a career, it frees us all up for hobbies, and learning, and as a result everyone's interested in learning all sorts of things they might not have been interested in at home, when there was more of a limit on what time they had to devote to themselves."

"There was a time when I couldn't bear to be idle," Claudius says with amusement. "Often when I appeared to be idle, drinking and laughing in company, I'd be busily making contacts and connection, furthering all sorts of machinations. Now I'm happy to be a housewife, and save the machinations for when they're of the utmost necessity. I have to keep myself sharp, however. Say, do you happen to know Tress's real name?"

"...Tress isn't her real name?"

“It’s a nickname. She challenged me to discover her real one — there’s another thing I used to do while looking idle. Gathering information.” Musing aloud, he says, “I’d draw a web of her closest connections and judge who among them is most likely to know, but Tress is well-liked by everyone. Perhaps the first challenge is to find her best friend.”

"Did she... did she give you any clues about what her actual name could possibly be? This seems ...almost impossible. There's a lot of names."

"No clues except it is possible. She offered a hint if I need one. I can't even narrow it down by country, because she comes from a world with dragons and spore seas. So far she's unique in the spore seas -- multiple people come from a world with a London, England, but no one else mentions the moons that spread spores." But he's clearly enjoying the challenge of it. "Charlie is an English name. Do you think her name could be English? Something like Regan or Cordelia?"

He smiles at the options of names Claudius goes with. "Could be," he says. "There's a lot of English names though. Is there a limit on how many times you can guess? We could find you a baby name book and you can just go alphabetically."

“But a carefully lined shot that hits its target is always more impressive than a volley of arrows, dost not thou think? Or a carefully lined strike in a game of billiards. I’d like to impress her by getting it right on the first guess.” With a soft, private smile, he says, “I’m my very fond of Tress, know thou. I love her like mine own niece — I finally told her during all the,” with a vague handwave, “business with Aornis.”

He's still not really ...over all of that, but the warm smile he gives Claudius doesn't let on the pang he feels at the reminder about his murdered former 'friend', the secret murderer. "I'm glad you told her then! Always best to tell people important things like that, I think."

"Yes, well, I also told her I'd murdered my brother in the same breath." Claudius sighs -- but for all his insight, he can't sense any unease beyond the warmth of Dionysus's expression, and so feels no guilt in proceeding to unpack his own feelings. "Aornis had meddled with her memories -- made her believe her beloved Charlie had arrived, but she couldn't reconstruct their conversation in any detail. I could've let Tress go on believing the lie, as long as it made her happy ... but she would've discovered it sooner or later. Just as he would've discovered the truth about me, sooner or later. She deserved to hear it for someone who loved her enough to be honest with her ... I didn't expect that to be me, that's all. Though it seems, in my stolen memories, I told Aornis how I'd felt about Tress first, and offered the same avuncular regard. Who can say whether that's why Tress was targeted?"

He gets that same sickly feeling of betrayal he's felt off and on since he first realized that Aornis was not who she pretended to be around him. "That -- that poor -- poor Tress. It's completely -- I --" He takes a deep breath. "I still feel terrible that I didn't know you all were going through all of this, up until the end of things. I should've been able to help -- hell, she was messing with everyone's minds, that's basically my juris-fucking-diction, after all, and I --" He takes another deep breath. "I'm so sorry, dear."

“My sweet Soterios,” Claudius says softly, eyes intent on Dionysus and yet not sharp. He wraps a comforting arm about Dionysus’s shoulder — convenient, that they’re of a height, and he can do this. “Cruel though it may sound,” he says, “I’m rather glad you feel responsible. A god less connected to his humanity could easily wash his hands of the whole affair, say something trite and unprovable like everything happens for a reason. Everything happens. We make our own reasons. Thou art a kind, unsuspecting man, and had no reason to think anything was amiss until someone had told thee. Thou art not like me, suspicious, spying into every shadow, interrogating even ghosts beyond the remit of inquiry.” Still softly, he asks, “If I find myself again planning in secret to forestall some hidden danger … wouldst thou have me find thee?”

He appreciates the arm around his shoulders, and leans into Claudius a bit. "I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me anything, dear. But -- I would appreciate it, because I might be able to help, and -- y'know. I want to keep you safe."

Claudius hesitates, puts on a flickering smile, and says, "When I was in grief, I think I spoke some nonsense to thee about having been a sacrificial lamb. Properly speaking, it's called a scapegoat. As a rule, Danish Catholics don't practice animal sacrifice anymore, but it's the idea of taking an otherwise innocent creature, pushing all of the community's sins on it, and either killing it or releasing it to take those sins somewhere else. It separates a society from its own failing and shortcomings." Realizing he's start to ramble, he dryly continues to the point, "I'm not used to this. Having people I can trust in when I'm not safe. I assume any person I talk to will tacitly endorse whatever suffering I go through, or explain why it's necessary to endure it. But I do trust thee, and would like to trust thee with more of my cares."

"That is what I'm here for, you know," he presses a little kiss to the side of Claudius's temple. "But it's not just me. There's so many people here who love you, and who also want you safe. I don't think there's anyone here who wants you to be suffering."

"With one notable exception," Claudius says with a sigh. There's no point keeping it to himself, he realizes -- there never was, but he told himself he was keeping the peace. "Luo Binghe. He doesn't wish any fresh suffering upon me, perhaps, but he's endeavored to cause me pain in the past and despises anyone who openly protects or sides with me. Aornis meddled with dreams as well as memory, crafting cruel nightmares from people's past vulnerabilities ... but she had the idea from Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe tortured me when I was not two months here. When a friend of mine bade him to stop, he became Luo Binghe's life-long enemy, and was sent one such a dream by him."

The longer Claudius talks, the more alarmed Dionysus looks. "He -- wh-- sweetheart, I'm so sorry--" he wraps him in a very tight hug. "I had no idea -- he tortured you?!"

It shouldn’t shock him still, enough to crush the breath from his lungs with the relief of releasing a held-in breath. He momentarily closes his eyes against Dionysus’s look of alarm, then steels himself to explain. “For insolence,” he says. “He used some magic from his demon half — magic in his blood, which he slipped to me secretly. We dallied once, sharing a kiss, and it seems he thought on it often. He heard rumors that someone in this mansion was styling himself a prince, and decided our dalliance must have been a targeted distraction, an attempt to undermine him on this prince’s behalf. For thathe interrogated me, used his power to torture me. When I told him roundly and insolently that there was no plot against him and his empire had no relevance here, he used it to bring me to my knees, and swore I would never know another day’s peace. The very next day he made good on his word, and continued torturing me from a distance, lashing out with pain whenever the whim struck him. I’ve known many royals and nobles like him before,” he says bitterly. “They’re selective in their cruelty. They make examples, then show magnanimity and mercy to those within their own circle, reminding them how good they can be. They make scape-goats for their own sins and either sacrifice them, or send them out into the world to be forgotten. It may be Luo Binghe has never been cruel to thee, since thou art a god and thy status makes thee worthy of respect. Or thou may’st be a part of his circle. But … if it sits uneasy with thee, that Aornis was a friend to thee and villain to others, I would have thee know the truth of’t.”

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