Alwyn watched in suspense, next to Lorcan, as the exchange carried out, though his mind began to put together the pieces-revelation after revelation slamming into him, hitting him just as hard-if not harder-than his instructors at Amarone whenever messed up. First was the revelation that Falun was “little Freedom”. That, combined with the name, could only mean one thing. It was widely speculated, and, at least confirmed to him by Alexei, that his father had been responsible for the deaths of Anithias and Julia, in revenge for the murder of the princess. He had always assumed that the kits...well...the kits would have been taken care of as well-maybe exiled, maybe worse. His father was not the type, in his opinion, to leave loose ends if he could help it. But doubt began to creep into his mind.
But you had thought that about Caden...yet, your father did nothing to hunt him down, despite Daniil’s obsession, even misdirected your cousin multiple times to make sure that would not happen. Even with everything, murdering kits is not something he would do...unless he had to...evidently...so...
He actually stumbled at the next thought, bracing himself on the walls of the little ketch.
“I’m sorry...I...need to sit down…” He gasped, barely controlling himself as he managed to stagger his way over to a barrel of something or another, sitting on it, the normally poised guardsbeast going into something of shock.
He...he actually did it. The bastard actually did it. He left the Freedom kits in the hands of Vito Furotazzi of all beasts. And not just for a little while, until things calmed down, or he could find them some harmless, out of the way position. He left them under his care for decades, until the old todd was rumored to have passed away. And, presumably, Falun and the other one...a sister...were now his heirs. Was this some kind of sick justice for Vaelora? It was not only enough to kill the todd and his wife, but to totally spit on and destroy their legacy by turning both of their kits into something they would have both hated? Is this something Vaelora would have even wanted? She was always portrayed as kind and loving, and her three kits had confirmed this.
He barely had time to recover from that little snippet of information before another cannon shot was fired at him. Before him was Jeshal the Ironclaw, murderous pirate turned former Minister, though he had been discouraged from looking too closely into him by his parents, and then the Empress and his tutors, other than something of a historical footnote, so he had never really learned much about the old todd. He glanced again at the claw, noting it was far finer and more technical than most of the cruder prosthetics used in the Harbor. But that was not the revelation that stunned him-it was the last sentence the leader of the Furotazzis uttered that drove him over the edge.
He hurriedly looked at Lorcan, Kinza, and Jeshal, then made a mental comparison of them to his mother, who would have been the Empress Dowager’s sister. He could see it. He could actually see it. The coloring, the faces, the builds even. Tanya was not only alive, and presumably well, but she had remarried and had kits with this...todd...and that meant that Lorcan...and...Kinza...were his cousins.
And you..flirted with…
The heir of House Ryalor had seen many things in his service, and done more than a few questionable things, but for some reason, this sent him over the edge. He staggered, looking around for some kind of porthole, but knew he would not make it in time. Luckily, a bucket, presumably used for cleaning, was nearby, and he made it just in time to start emptying his guts into it.
It was not just the fact that he had flirted with Kinza, or the revelation about Falun that sent him over the edge, it was the implication of just how low his parents were willing to go for power. As he took a small breather before the next round of bile, the thoughts raced, no, stormed through his mind.
It all makes sense, now, in such a twisted fashion.
His mother, father, and even granduncle had kept many details of the family’s rise to power deliberately vague, and they were even more opaque regarding the fate of the true Empress dowager and the true Crown Prince and Princess of Fyador-and thus technically their first lieges, even now with his father and mother sworn to a new Empress. They had never exactly said that she or her kits had died, true, but it was implied, after so long... no wonder his granduncle, even in his old age, had drawn his blade on his father-to hold such dual allegiances, to betray Tanya, and her kits, especially without permission from her...was...absurd...obscene even...and now his father, with his mother’s-the Empress’s sister no less-had brought the entire House into it with her acquiescence. Whatever kind of honor they thought they had restored to the family was just some kind of pathetic smokescreen. His granduncle had been right. Even the vixens of the night had more dignity, on average.
He threw up once more into the bucket, before he was able to stabilize himself, and find a dirty rag to wipe his mouth against, before he, now laying down, found a crate to lie against and just stared at the other two todds for a moment, not even having an excuse for his behavior, as he managed to just ask a question.
“Is...it true…? That Tanya is still alive, and…” he knew was taking a risk, but he had to know,
“that Aille and Valdrisk are as well?”
@Jeshal the Ironclaw @Falun Furotazzi @Lorcan Rainclaw 
