Author's Note: Well, I said what I meant and I meant what I said (thank you, Dr. Seuss!), and I've decided to continue on with this story. A big thanks goes out to Glenn393 for the kind words. Enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading.

The Duty of Archadian Sons

The ascent from the dank dungeons gave Vayne the impression of climbing back out of Hell. He emerged at the far south end of the garden courtyard to the slap of cool evening air on his face and looked over his shoulder at the dark opening to the dungeons. The doorway seemed to breathe, like a huge gaping mouth, just waiting to swallow him up again. The fading sunlight cast a deep red light on the stone walls, like splashes of blood. Turning away quickly, he shut his eyes and thought resolutely of something less frightening. Look at me, he rebuked himself silently, still afraid.

His personal guard was quick to surround him. Their captain, Glabius, led them through the labyrinthine garden paths. Vayne stopped a moment at a fountain and peered at his reflection. His eyes widened at the speckling of blood on his face and neck. He touched them with a gloved hand, wiping a new streak of red on his pale skin. His face contorted in disgust, and he ripped the gloves off his hands, throwing them to the ground.

Glabius turned around and held up his arm, ordering the guard to halt. He looked on at the second youngest Solidor in some interest. "My Lord?"

Vayne was huffing and puffing, scrubbing his face and hands in the cool water of the fountain. His teeth were bared and glinted oddly in the sunset. He stopped suddenly and stepped back, his face still pressed in the soft flesh of his hands. Arms coming down to his sides, Vayne looked out over the flowers and shrubbery, glowing red drops falling down the end of his chin.

"Mother's snow-blossoms are doing well." He dried his face and walked to them, bringing a snowy bud to his nose. Its sweet smell reminded him vaguely of childhood, and he relished in it, closing his eyes. He surprised himself with a smile.

"Glabius." The man came forward. Vayne held the little bud out. "Have this taken to my mother. Tell her I will see her before we both retire." The man bowed and entrusted the task to one of the guard. The entourage moved forward then, and into the shade of the palace walls.

His father's chambers of state were growing darker by the minute. Gramis hadn't moved from his seat. Vayne could see the tension building beneath his smooth forehead. He waited for the invitation to speak, knowing full well his father already knew what he was here to say.

"So then, Vayne Carudas Solidor, what news do you bring me?" Gramis's voice was low and gravelly, but every word held the force of an emperor. Vayne walked to the windows and looked out over Archades, dimly aware that he was staring through his own reflection.

"It is done, Father."

Gramis stared blankly across the room. Vayne could see the fluttering of his pulse at his neck; it was quickening by the moment.

"Done?" The word was scarcely more than a croak.

"Yes, it is done." The repetition seemed to verify the finality of it. Even Vayne felt mildly surprised at hearing himself speaking so candidly about murdering his own brother. He moved to lean on the edge of his father's desk.

Gramis's eyes were closed, and to the untrained eye it may have seemed as though he had fallen asleep in his chair. But Vayne had familiarized himself with the emperor's ways, and between the fluttering pulse and the taut lines of his mouth, he knew he was very much awake and very much in pain.

"Did he suffer overmuch?"

Vayne's hand found his chin and he raised his eyes to the ceiling in speculation.

"He suffered the way a traitor of the Archadian Empire suffers." Gramis's eyes clenched a little tighter. Vayne stood for a moment; he could feel the rift forming, and the job was only half-done. Gramis gave a small, sharp breath, the precursor to a sob. His third son thought it best to leave him to his grief.

"I'm going to see Mother before I retire to my chambers," he said, retreating to the door. "I do hope you sleep well, Father." It was only with the resounding clunk of the door closing behind him that Vayne heard his father release his wailing sobs.

Night had fallen. Vayne entered his chambers and changed into a soft blue tunic before going to see his mother. He didn't want to hurt Larsa with the sharp edges of his armor. He entered his mother's room and immediately felt at peace. The long sheets of Bhujerban silk that draped over her four-poster bed were the colors of the sea, translucent greens and blues. She heard him before she saw him, and came out from behind her changing screen. Her long black hair was loose, released from the pins of polished bone that usually held it in place. Her white arms were bared, and in them she held the youngest Solidor, not yet a full year old.

Vayne smiled and took the child from her arms, holding him to his chest and kissing his forehead. Larsa's huge blue eyes looked up at him with evident liking, and the child rested his head on his brother's shoulder. Vayne could feel the small breath at his neck and nuzzled his younger brother protectively. He was like a little bird, so soft and small and fragile.

"Did you get my message?" His mother nodded, walking serenely toward her bedside table. She held up a vase full of snow-blossoms.

"I did, and I immediately sent the man out to fetch more for me." She took Larsa from his arms and placed the babe in his gilded crib. His eyes remained closed, and it wasn't long before they could hear the evenness of his sleepy breathing.

"He is so easy to care for, this one," she said. "Never a fuss."

Vayne looked on the sleeping child and felt his chest tighten with guilt. Could he possibly tell her that he had murdered her second son? His brow furrowed.

"Mother, I—" She held a finger to his lips to silence him.

"No, you needn't say it aloud. The Law demands Justice against traitors, and so Justice you served." Her hands traced his face's form lightly. "I would rather you upkeep your duty to House Solidor than cloud your judgment with sentimental nonsense."

His blue eyes met her deep brown ones, and for a moment he wanted to throw himself down at her feet and beg forgiveness. But no inkling of sorrow found its way into her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waste and buried his face in her shoulder.

"Mother, this is not the end. Lucius, he—"

"I am well aware of Lucius's ties to the radicals of Landis. If caught, he is to be served just as his younger brother was. I am prepared for that. Duty to one's country is more important than anything in the world." She held him at arms' length, looking into his face for some sign of hesitation. Although his eyes were misty, she saw only ambition burning behind them. She placed a cool hand on his face. He closed his eyes at the touch.

"Dearest one, you must never lose this that you have." Her other hand rested upon his chest, over his heart. "Be brave, my little son. You have my blessing, always."

Larsa gave a little hiccough in his sleep, and the two laughed softly. It was a moment before Aria Candida Solidor spoke again.

"Protect him, won't you?"

Vayne's chest grew tight again, but it was not guilt that he felt any longer. He rested his arm around his mother's shoulders and held her slight body to his.

"I promise. No harm will ever come to him by my hand or any other. I would first die."

She tilted her head back and kissed her son on the cheek before moving away. He watched her shadow behind her changing screen for a moment before walking silently from the room.

As always, any reviews welcome. Hope you enjoyed this second chapter of Filius Impavidus (or Fearless Son). Up next, we have the search for the infamous Lucius Celsus Solidor and the Landis Radicals. Gabranth (one of my other favorites) will almost certainly make an appearance in chapter three.