Hazy

As the yarrow was carefully bundled up, his paws moved still as he lifted his skull to regard Rhazien with cool composure,  expression betraying little emotion as he absorbed the older man’s laughter and musings. The comparison to Sephiran elicited a subtle raise of his brow, though he made no comment on the matter. He didn’t feel one way or another about it – Sephiran was Sephiran. He was Caedes. Instead, he listened in silence as Rhazien's thoughts drifted to their home, and why he had left.

Saffron. Caedes's demeanor shifted imperceptibly, a flicker of intensity in his gaze betraying the gravity of the question. His response was measured, his voice a low rumble tinged with restraint. Rhazien knew better than to hint that Caedes was a traitor. But more likely, he was being toyed with. Ah, this uncle. Of course the man wanted to play his wordy games. "Why?" Caedes echoed the inquiry, his tone betraying neither reluctance nor hesitation.  "Grandmother. She wanted me to." He paused, a hint of contemplation in his gaze before continuing. He was speaking of Rhazien’s mother, afterall. The woman had raised Caedes more than his own mother had, though. He had a right to call her as he did. She asked him to leave, to help himself, and help her true blood grandson, so he had obeyed. "Because ‘I was going to rot trying to fix my father', Or so she believes." It was common knowledge how special Caedes’ father had been, was still to Astrid, but he digressed. That man was far away, locked up, sedated or raving. Caedes’ nearly crushed his precious yarrow between his fingers, the defined musculature beneath his ruined hide flexing at the thought of his poor, broken sire. How many remedies had they tried? How many concoctions, poisons, sedatives, to make him lucid? Nothing worked.

With a slight tilt of his head, Caedes reiterated his statement to Rhazien, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I am here to play my part. For the Saxe Empire. Sephiran is an extension of that, he will be Sultan here and I will give him my strength when he requires it." Caedes’s lips pulled back into a wicked grin, emeralds alight with anger - not for Rhazien, just rage. Plain and simple, always there under his usually well-put-together facade.