The Beginning of the End

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Dimaethor let out a heavy sigh at her words. He would be imprisoned to the same house for upwards of one or two years. He would end up insane by them. Dimaethor had always hated being cooped up. Even when he had gotten older he loved to explore, and couldn't stand being holed up in the castle for too long. Oftentimes, he would walk in the castle gardens to clear his head, as the plants and fresh air always made him feel clear-headed after working inside for hours on end.

After a second, he changed the subject, staying, "You have not won the war. The king still lives, and resides in the Capitol, with men tenfold the number you saw here, and walls twice as tall." He refused to look at her for too long, not wanting to be pulled in by her elvish charms and beauty. He would not give in.

-----

Not too long had passed when the same human from earlier knocked and entered, handing him a scroll and calling him, "Lord Oriske." Making a face, he resisted the urge to release his shadows and destroy the man, not wanting to give them another reason to want to kill him. Breaking the wax seal, he read the writing, and soon had placed it on his father's desk, straightening some loose books and papers. His father was never known to be a tidy person, but refused to let the servants clean his study, so his desk was a disaster of scrolls, books set face-down, breaking their spines, and any number of odds and ends that collected upon his desk. Setting some of the books on the shelves, he said to his siblings, "I'm going to the Hall of Kings. You might have to make dinner yourselves, but stick together. There's no telling what these human bastards will do." The curse elicited a laugh from Jaeh, who never heard his father curse, and thought it amusing when adults swore.

Oriske left, but not without taking the sword that was underneath his father's desk. Hooking it to his belt, he left, soon finding himself in a long hallway devoid of soldiers. On the walls were paintings of every lord of Reaven, from the first to Dimaethor. And soon, as per tradition, Oriske would have a painting done of him. Walking down the hall, he soon found himself in front of his father's painting, which depicted him with a soft, loving smile. Reaching up, Oriske touched it lightly, a sad light coming to his eyes.

Taking his hand back, he sighed, already missing his father, wherever he was.

-----

Once in his own room, Failen changed into fresh clothes, trying to ignore the empty bed at the other end of the room. The servants all shared rooms, but Failen's roommate had left to fight for his lord. He was probably dead.

Once dressed, he found Serena and Lyra, the daughters of Dimaethor, and asked where their elder brother was. As soon as they told him, he was off, soon finding him in the Hall of Kings, assuming his duties once more, not trusting the humans.
 
The elf looked at him and she laughed softly, "Do you really think the elves are simply devoid of the army except for me?" She looked at him and she suddenly started to notice how sad he looked, and she almost cringed, "The elves formed a mini-army and are assaulting the castle as we speak. We wouldn't put everything we had into this one little city and expect for the evil one to simply sit there and await for us to see us fail. We are crafty in our methods, and trust me, we'll be very careful about how me play the rest of our cards here soon."

The elf then sat up, "And trust me, the house isn't that bad. In fact, we have a two story mansion that has gardens and such. We thought long and hard about how to contain you Dimaethor. You will have no issues in being comfortable or being enclosed. You'll go under a new name just to be safe, but I'll be there to help watch you and, if you will see reason, help suppress your shadows better than you do now."

Personally, the elf disagreed with how the army was handling the lord. Not only did this mean she was spending a year with him, it meant there were multiple opportunists for him to escape or otherwise injure her. The elves had a simple philosophy when it came to things like this: a wounded creature deserves to die. She wanted to behead him right here, but he idea was she was taking him out of the city alone, and this would make the people think that he was being taken to the elven homeland. She wished they had come up with a more effective solution to solving this issue they had created. But the only other option was public execution, and that was too risky to preform. The other, more messy option didn't appeal to her very well at all either. She was stuck with him.

She finally sat up and looked down at him with a mix of pity and understanding, "Get up. You're personal kingdom is fallen. As we speak Oriske is most likely being anointed lord and you are being made into a somber memory to be left to tales and woe. Come with me now, or I can knock you out with magic and take you to that house and tie you down." This was going to be an interesting trip.
=====
Talen looked at his friend and he set to finding himself a place to stay. He was one of the solders who had elected to stay inside this city after occupation, and he needed a house, and, as was his preference, close to the castle at that. He wandered down the stairs and watched the people start to mill around as the invasion was over. It was the lull after one was taken over, as his own hometown had once experienced.

Soon, his feet and eyes found him a nice home that, thankfully, was uninhabited and deemed so even after a quick search. Seeing the house was most likely lived in before all this, he sighed and placed his things down on the bed. He also made sure his sword was ready. He wanted to have a small home and have a nice life inside this city, and this situation made it perfectly possible for him to do so. The army wanted him to take a random house not already lived in, or lived in previously. So he had one nice house that mirrored his own.

Soon, Talen would have to take to Failen about some of his own habits and his new life. He felt sorry for his friend and wanted nothing more than for him to be happy again, for being under Oriske wasn't happy. Even after he had left, they had remained in good contact until Dimaethor declared the city under the king and turned the army into one of wraiths. It almost was hard to blame his friend for becoming what he had. Yet it made it no simpler for him to do so.
 
Suppress my shadows, Dimaethor thought angrily. As if I can't control it. He rolled his eyes as he listened to the elf, still standing up. This elf had some severely incorrect information, and he wasn't going to just let her trample over the entirety of his being. Shadows weren't just something you could suppress and hide. That would be like trying to change skin colors, and Dimaethor was taking it as an insult that the elf would consider forcing his shadows away.

As she told him to begin walking, he frowned and turned from her, not answering her question. He knew that he was acting as his eldest son might, but he was under extreme stress, as well as an elf who seemed too eager to use her magic. He reached for his sword, not knowing what he was going to do, but found that he hadn't gotten it back. Shouting in frustration, he tore the sheath from his belt, throwing it to the side and watching it land some fifteen feet away.

"Do whatever you want, elf," he growled, finally sitting down, though he was careful not to get his coat dirty. "I don't have a damn choice, do I?" Absentmindedly, he began toying with one of the silver buttons on the front of his jacket, like he used to as a child and had gotten upset about something.

-----

After about an hour of walking through the Hall of Kings, Oriske found his brother and sisters, and took them to one of the nicer sitting rooms, calling for tea. He felt that some of the hot, earthy tea from the kitchens would soothe everyone's nerves, though they had to wait a while, as many of the servants were still missing.

Once the tea arrived, he sent for someone to have Failen come to him. The man arrived a few minutes later, asking what he was needed for. "I need you to watch over my siblings. I don't trust these humans, and I am confident that I can take care of myself."

Failen interjected with, "My lord, I am your shadow. If you fear for your siblings, I can help arrange personal guards for each of them." Oriske looked exasperated at that.

"Failen, I just want them safe. And right now they aren't. Not while these humans are here."
 
The elf shrugged, "Everyone has choices in the world Dimaethor. For example, you could try and run away right now and get an arrow in your leg before you get thirty paces. You could also try and attack me with shadows, and we could get into another magic duel again. Dimaethor, everyone has choices in this world, even when you don't think you do. So let's get moving before I have to force you to move with me."

The elf severely wanted this to end with an arrow inside his skull and have his head placed on a staff for all to see and her return to her beautiful home and never have to worry about the world of these mortals again. Yet it seemed fate, as important as it was, was also working against her. She was to oversee and guard this man inside of a mansion instead of a cell for the next year or so! She wanted nothing more than to kill him, yet she accepted her post as a general, and now she was suffering the consequences of her actions.

The elf then took him onto a dirt path, where she let him mount a horse. She trusted Dimaethor, at least for now, for he had nowhere to go with his home occupied and his only family now in control of his castle. She also knew he thought she would kill him the second he tried to run. She already had the word of death on her lips in case he decided to try. She smiled to him and she started to trot their horses away from the lands.

"Dimaethor, you hate me correct?" She asked him finally, staring at him as he rode next to her.
=====
Talen finally couldn't stand it and went back to the castle, remembering a way he could get close to Failen and become apart of his hometown again. Knowing that he could at least talk to the lord, he cleaned off his armor as best he could and went back up to the castle and requested an audience with the lord.

The knight knew that this was highly out of character and it could backfire on him. But this could also help get him closer to the inner-workings of this castle and help him get closer to his friend. He waited as the man walked up to Oriske, "Sir, this man requests and audience with you!" Talen bowed to Oriske, saying, "My lord."

Then he waited for Oriske to let him arise, which he eventually did. He drew his sword and planted the tip into the ground, "My lord, before this I served as part of Dimaethor's personal guard, which is how I knew your name and the names of your other family members. I understand I defected and you have little reason to trust me after what I did. I wish to become apart of this guard again, seeing as it was partially destroyed by our entrance. I am prepared to swear fealty to both you and this army, if you would allow me to retake my position as a personal guard to you and your family. Would you take up my sword and let me become apart of this army once more?" He asked, holding his sword up in his hands and bowing so he presented it to Oriske.

This could prove dangerous, for if Oriske accepted it and he pledged his fealty, then he would have to follow this boy even if he did turn evil and fought against the invaders. Yet this was his only way to get closer to Failen, his lord and the area he had left to defect to. So he held his sword out, ready to either be rejected or accepted.
 
The elf shrugged, "Everyone has choices in the world Dimaethor. For example, you could try and run away right now and get an arrow in your leg before you get thirty paces. You could also try and attack me with shadows, and we could get into another magic duel again. Dimaethor, everyone has choices in this world, even when you don't think you do. So let's get moving before I have to force you to move with me."

The elf severely wanted this to end with an arrow inside his skull and have his head placed on a staff for all to see and her return to her beautiful home and never have to worry about the world of these mortals again. Yet it seemed fate, as important as it was, was also working against her. She was to oversee and guard this man inside of a mansion instead of a cell for the next year or so! She wanted nothing more than to kill him, yet she accepted her post as a general, and now she was suffering the consequences of her actions.

The elf then took him onto a dirt path, where she let him mount a horse. She trusted Dimaethor, at least for now, for he had nowhere to go with his home occupied and his only family now in control of his castle. She also knew he thought she would kill him the second he tried to run. She already had the word of death on her lips in case he decided to try. She smiled to him and she started to trot their horses away from the lands.

"Dimaethor, you hate me correct?" She asked him finally, staring at him as he rode next to her.
=====
Talen finally couldn't stand it and went back to the castle, remembering a way he could get close to Failen and become apart of his hometown again. Knowing that he could at least talk to the lord, he cleaned off his armor as best he could and went back up to the castle and requested an audience with the lord.

The knight knew that this was highly out of character and it could backfire on him. But this could also help get him closer to the inner-workings of this castle and help him get closer to his friend. He waited as the man walked up to Oriske, "Sir, this man requests and audience with you!" Talen bowed to Oriske, saying, "My lord."

Then he waited for Oriske to let him arise, which he eventually did. He drew his sword and planted the tip into the ground, "My lord, before this I served as part of Dimaethor's personal guard, which is how I knew your name and the names of your other family members. I understand I defected and you have little reason to trust me after what I did. I wish to become apart of this guard again, seeing as it was partially destroyed by our entrance. I am prepared to swear fealty to both you and this army, if you would allow me to retake my position as a personal guard to you and your family. Would you take up my sword and let me become apart of this army once more?" He asked, holding his sword up in his hands and bowing so he presented it to Oriske.

This could prove dangerous, for if Oriske accepted it and he pledged his fealty, then he would have to follow this boy even if he did turn evil and fought against the invaders. Yet this was his only way to get closer to Failen, his lord and the area he had left to defect to. So he held his sword out, ready to either be rejected or accepted.
 
Dimaethor glanced sideways at the elf, frowning slightly. "You are taking me from my home, your people have refused to sit with my king and discuss peace, and I am being kept in a place far away from my home and my family, while not knowing what will happen afterwards. So, yes. My feelings towards you aren't exactly friendly." He focused back on the dirt path in front of him, reaching up to fiddle with the buttons on his jacket, the chains between his wrists jingling together.

After a while, they came upon the two-story mansion, and Dimaethor stopped his horse, looking at it silently. My prison, he thought, giving a slight glare towards the elf.

-----

After a while, Oriske was called to the throne room, and once he was sitting in his father's throne, the human from earlier approached, kneeling before him. Failen stood at his side, silent as he watched Talen, frowning slightly. After a few minutes, Oriske told the man to rise, and listened as he was told what he wanted.

Oriske was silent for several minutes, thinking it over. He didn't trust the human, but it was true that he needed a new personal guard. Slowly, he spoke. "Alright. But as a member of my personal guard, know this :if I ever see any amount of hesitation, any sign of betrayal, I will cut you down. You will share quarters with Failen, and you will spend every moment of every day with him. Understand?" He narrowed his eyes at Talen, frowning.
 
The elf laughed and stopped him before he could enter. She gripping his wrist and muttered a long spell over him, which slowly placed a small blue star on his wrist, "This will keep you unable to leave more than a mile from this house without my contact to open the way. Your new home Dimaethor!" She also couldn't leave without touching him, but she had stocked the house with enough food, water and supplies to last them a year of heavy eating, two if they ate light.

The elf looked at the house with a bit of disdain, but she loved the garden she had helped to make. It spread all over the expanse of the mansion, and it was slightly overgrown as well. She had mixed in multiple colors and plants into it, making sure it was open, free, alive and healthy. As all elves did, nature was the most sacred thing next to magic. It explained the reason why elves always preferred to live in houses sung out of trees. It was simply their own account this was their new lives, stuck in large homes. She always hated this sort of thing, but she would ignore it for the time being.

"You may get settled in Dimaethor. We have multiple wardrobes and things of that nature for you when you are in need, and I shall make dinner for tonight." She smiled to him, already planning out the meal in her head, "I hope you are as excited as I am." That was sarcasm though.
=====
Talen nodded and took up his sword, bowing as he sheathed it, "My lord." He then arose and looked over at Failen; this was even better. Not only did he accomplish the first goal, he was now in a better spot than ever to be in the company of his best friend. He would be able to serve his lord and his friend equally now.

"My lord, do you have any plans for me to undertake now?" He asked, looking at Oriske. He was reluctant to leave yet, but he also wanted to know if his lord started to trust him or not. He knew that, if he was lord, this was an amazing offer but not one that could be totally harmless. Yet fealty was forever binding until death or release either way.

And so, now, as a personal guard to the son of the dark lord, he stood and awaited his first orders.
 
Dimaethor frowned at the elf before he wandered to a bedroom that looked unoccupied. Sitting on a small, comfy couch, he looked around, his grey eyes taking in the room. There was a bed, a wardrobe, a curtained window, and a bookshelf, though it was mostly empty, aside for a few books whose titles were written in Elvish. Dimaethor didn't know much more than a rudimentary level of Elvish, but he suspected that it was about time he learned some more.

Sighing, he stood up, looking at the blood staining his jacket and trousers. Slowly taking off his clothes, he moved to the wardrobe, looking through it and finding a quilted tunic and dark trousers. Pulling them on, he left his soiled clothes on the bed, sighing. Tugging at the sleeves of the tunic, which was much too big for him, he looked down over himself. Elvish clothes are so weird, he thought, longing for his clothes from the castle.

Eventually, he drifted downstairs to the smell of a meal cooking, his expression neutral. He walked outside, wanting to feel close to the nature that his wife had once loved so much. She'd taken care of her own garden, refusing to allow any of the servants to help. Dimaethor could only wish now that he'd spent more time with her there.

Sighing, he sat down beneath a tree, not caring about the clothes he was wearing. Leaning his head against the bark, he closed his eyes, and, not for the first time, found that he couldn't recall the face of his wife. It got worse as each day passed, and soon he feared that he would forget her completely.

-----

Oriske looked to Failen before saying, "Failen, take Talen to your quarters. He will need to know what his duties will be." Failen bowed low and mumbled, "Yes, my lord." He walked past Talen, discreetly gesturing for him to follow. He walked to the servants' quarters, opening the door for him. The room was sparsely decorated, with all the furniture in pairs: two beds, two wardrobes, two nightstands. Both sides looked lived in, but Failen moved to his side. "It is unlikely that the cleaning man will return..."

He was silent for a few seconds before adding, "We rise before dawn and awake his lordship. After he has eaten, we go to the courtyard and he will spar with us. Then we will do whatever he wishes. I am not sure what will happen, as he is so recently lord, but in a few weeks he will probably find a routine..." He looked at the human, keeping his tone neutral and professional. He was trying his best to not become friends again, even if they were now on the same side. It made Failen nervous about his own emotions, and he didn't want to seem weak in front of him. Not again.
 
Elves generally did not eat meat, and it was apart of their training that came upon this change. Normally, they were taught that the earth around them teamed with life and killing an animal was the equal of doing the same to a human. She hadn't believed it until they made her link minds with it and had her feel the pain as it was violently killed and gutted. From then on, she moved onto fish and more simple meats, always making sure not to consume the flesh of these dying creatures.

What she was doing now was a traditional elven dish that was certain to appeal to Dimaethor. It was a simple roasted fish over beef, surrounded with herbs and seasoned lightly. Overall, it looked appealing and would look to have appeared on his banquet rather than laid out for him. She smiled and began to sing lightly in her amazing and cute voice. The voice was alluring and would entrance any normal mortal being until it ended.

She saw him sit down outside the garden and lean against a tree, and she suddenly felt a pang of sadness. She knew the pain of forgetting someone that you loved or knew, and she felt it. She used to be close to her mother, Islanzer. Yet now she found all she could remember was the clothes and faint pictures of the house they lived in. It panned her, for she couldn't find the memory needed to restore it. Then an idea came to win Dimaethor's trust.

"Dimaethor, I have some food for you!" She called lightly and waited for him to come in. It must seem like he was being treated lowly yet this was how she wanted to treat him. When he came in she looked at his eyes, "I can restore your memory of your wife, but it involves magic. If you're willing to try then I'll try and find an image of her and I will restore her to you for all your life."

She was not offering lightly, for the spell was long and it would forever bind them together in trust. She reached out her arms and motioned for him to let her put her hands on his head.
=====
Nodding to him, Talen realized this was working into his favor. He was next to his friend, in the same room with his friend, and now he would see him all day. He knew Failen didn't trust himself, or at least, he pretended not to think of himself as much other than a slave to the lord. He smiled to him and nodded, clearing off the other side gently and laying what little things he still owned on it. He looked to him as he sat down on the bed, "I'm glad to be in your company again my friend."

As friends, they had done almost everything together. They had pulled pranks, acted like soldiers, and now they were back together again. IT was going to take a while to show his friend how much he still trusted him, yet that would be another battle for another time. He needed to cross each threshold as it came to him, and not before, "So we are basically his personal servants?" It wasn't angry or full of spite, only a curiosity to pinpoint the term.
 
Dimaethor hardly reacted as he heard the elf singing, though he was admitting to himself that she had a voice that could make the birds silent. As he heard her calling for him, he slowly stood up, straightening the dark green tunic before walking towards the house.

Once inside, he glanced over at her as she spoke to him, his grey eyes hooded and wary. The offer...it was tempting. Taking a deep breath, he regarded her silently before bobbing his head in answer and approaching her. Heart pounding, he allowed her to touch his head, bringing up the memories he did have of his wife, his expression stoic.

-----

"No," Failen answered immediately. "We are the final defense of our lord. When he cannot act, we must. We are not common servants. And while we do serve, it is not like the others." He looked away, trying to forget their childhood together. It would be best that way. There was no room for friendship in the personal guard of the Lord of Reaven. Failen couldn't let his loyalties blur. If the humans tried to hurt Oriske, Failen would need to be able to protect his lord from any threat.
 
The elf used a simple spell and placed her warm hands on his head. The spell simply looked into whatever memory of the person, however damaged, and restored it to the former glory it was. She smiled and started to sing in a whisper, until the memory was clear to her. She saw the woman and then she transferred that memory into Dimaethor's mind, so he would always remember her. The memory was one of him and her walking through the garden, but she dare not go any further for his own privacy and respect.

Once the spell was complete, she stepped back and smiled to him, "Eat Dimaethor, and think of your wife. I found the only memory I could of her face, and you two were a lovely couple. You have...my uttermost sympathy for her." She bowed, then she sat down and took a small piece of the meat and began to eat, "The food is not poisoned."

The elf watched him and waited for his reaction to the food and to his brand new revived memory. She gave a tiny smile to him and watched him start to eat, always awaiting for him to react. His reactions were unpredictable in a predictable way. That is, she expected an abnormal reaction, but she couldn't glean what it would be.
=====
Talen watched his friend with a stoic expression, "So we are simply his more personal servants with more power then. Do not deny the word servant, for it is how it works." HE watched his friend start to drift further and further away from him. He started to think of how it was that this was happening and the only thing he could think of was him wanting to doubt his loyalty to something. IT was going to be difficult tracing where it was he was coming from.

"You need not doubt my loyalty if you are not sure of what is happening. I swore fealty; that is a forever bond." He said simply, nodding.
 
By the time the elf had finished with him,Dimaethor had tears in his eyes, and as she began to eat, he found that the tears had begun to spill down his cheeks. Reaching up, he brushed them away with the sleeve of the tunic, the memory now as fresh in his mind as if it had just happened. Dimaethor didn't usually cry. Indeed, when she died giving birth to Jaeh, taking her from him, he hadn't allowed anyone to ever see him cry, even when he watched her be buried.

And yet, when faced with a memory as fresh as a spring day, he found that he couldn't keep from letting the hot, salty tears spill down.

He allowed himself two minutes to cry, subconsciously counting the seconds. When the two minutes passed, he wiped the rest of the tears away and focused on eating, starving from the battle to the ride to the restoration of his memories. The food was delicious, but Dimaethor hardly tasted it, replaying the memory over and over again.

-----

Failen glanced up at Talen, not entirely trusting him. After watching him for a few seconds, he answered his statement with, "I do not question your loyalty. I question my own. Do not make such assumptions in my presence." He stood, tightening the belt around his waist that held his sword. He knelt by the fireplace that sat on the outer wall, which had had held a warm fire that morning. Now, it was little more than ashes. Placing a couple branches and kindling from the small pile beside the fireplace, he glanced at Talen again before murmuring a soft spell beneath his breath, creating a spark amongst the kindling. It was just a tiny spell, nothing too fancy, but wraiths weren't supposed to be able to use magic, and he didn't know how Talen would react. Still, Failen didn't know much more than that, and hoped that Talen wouldn't say anything about it.

Once the fire was going, he sat besides it, his back to Talen, making it clear that he didn't want to talk anymore.
 
The elf then saw his tears and looked at him and she gave a tiny nod and smiled, "I know this pain Dimaethor. I cannot even remember what my elven home looks like. I may talk about it with such determination and splendor, but I am merely quoting what others say. Do not think anything of this: it is cruel to make someone forget anything so dear to them." She reached out and used a napkin to quickly dampen the rest of his tears and she smiled lightly, "There, all better!"

The elf then took the plates and started to wash them, while she began to hum and sing once more in her lovely voice. It was simply her way of dealing with things. She sang all different kinds of songs, but they were all in elvish so the common man wouldn't be able to distinguish what she was saying. But for Dimaethor, she guessed he could glean the general meaning. The song was a simple tale of a man named Krea who sailed across the world to gain the heart of his lover at her request, only to come back and find she had tricked him so she could marry his brother. It was an angry song that softened at points, but to her it was sung all in the same monotonous lovely tone.

Once finished, she sat down again and smiled to him, "Do you enjoy the garden Dimaethor? I care for it, for it is the only piece of living plants in this wretched land." She sighed and looked out again into the lovely plants, trees, flowers and vines that seemed to live and breathe to the normal eye. She saw them all and her smile only grew wider. It felt nice to have some real beauty in this one large barren landscape.

"Well Dimaethor, if you need me I'll be outside, singing to the plants as you will see me do multiple times throughout our stay together." Without explaining further, she stood up and walked outside, caressed and flower and began to sing in the most lovely of her voice she could go, spreading a magical song over the garden slowly.
=====
Talen looked at him and shook his head, "Magic...all I can do is sense when someone is inside my mind..." He looked at him with amazement, "Y-you need to teach me some! I can sense other magic users so I at least have something in me! Can you teach me? Even if it is simple defensive spells and wards that would be helpful!" He didn't know how to use magic (ironically), so he was now working to find some. Yet no one would ever teach him.

"And besides that, is there anything that I should wear and act like? Any specific swords? I broke mine in the aftermath of fighting Dimaethor, so I need a new blade." He ignored his turned back and pressed that last veiled request before he looked down and smiled once more.
 
Dimaethor watched as she left, realizing that he didn't even know her name. Her lovely voice filled the air, and soon he was wandering upstairs, finding a washroom. He spent a couple seconds figuring out how to draw his own bath, and once he got it he was soon watching the tiny tin tub fill with water. The bath was much tinier than the one in his personal washroom, and it was marble rather than tin, but it would do.

Undressing, he laid his clothes out nearby, stepping into the tub, using a cloth to scrub at the dirt that had accumulated on his skin from traveling to the house. Dimaethor washed himself, another thing he was unused to, but quickly grew accustomed to.

When he was clean, he got out, drying himself with a towel before dressing once more, though his blonde curls were still slightly damp. Going to his room, he lied on the bed, staring at the ceiling and losing himself in the memory of his love.

-----

Failen shook his head at Talen's question. "I only know the one spell," he said. "And I don't know anything else about magic." He glanced back at Talen, brushing his dark hair behind his ear. He didn't mention that he only leaned the spell as an attempt to replace his absence of shadows, and that he didn't know any other spells because he was as equally inept. Even simple healing spells were difficult for him, and he had allowed himself to forget the other spells he knew.

Standing, he adjusted the sleeves of his coat, looking at the human. "The incantation is Tijeah," he said. "It's an old nymph word I learned from a trader who visited two years ago." He folded his arms across his chest, feeling tired from just using the simplest of spells. He would need a good meal and some sleep, and hopefully he would be feeling better in the morning.
 
The elf finally had to stop when the garden was permeated with magic and it was ready to blossom. The garden would flourish like a wild forest at this rate, and soon she would be able to simply lay down and watch it grow. For now, she simply had to pump magic into it at a continuous rate. This wasn't tiring to her, but a tedious task if it was cold or wet.

Hearing the man take a bath heartened her; she wasn't going to deal with a man who was broken. Perhaps the memory had helped, but most men weren't able to cope with losing their kingdoms. Once again, this wasn't even her idea, and she thought they should just behead him and be over with it, but that wasn't her cup of tea nor her decision to make. She was just stuck here.

So Demiel sat there, lightly singing, and cleaned the house. Her amazing voice filled every room with her lovely music and sounds. her voice was heavenly to say the least.
=====
Talen shrugged and tried the incantation, but nothing happened. He sighed, remembering how some people couldn't wield magic even if they had the ability to. It was simply a matter of having a special thing inside your mind taht allowed you to penetrate reality and reach into the unreal and alter it.

"Alright then. So what can I do now?" He asked, sitting down and smelling the bread. AT least it felt fresh and smelled equal to that perception.
 
Dimaethor read through the elven book again, trying to remember what he had forgotten in the last several years. When that proved fruitless, he shut the book, sighing. Taken into another fit of crying, he let himself be filled with his memory of his wife and his the rest of his family. Praying to the gods that his children were safe, he conjured up memories of them, letting that be what keeps him same.

-----

Failen shrugged. "Wait until Lord Oriske sends for us. If he doesn't want us today, we just wait until tomorrow and begin our regular duties. I'm sure that by tomorrow morning things will be reaching a sort of normality. He might have us working with his sisters and brother. They might need help with adjusting." He got up only to sit down on the edge of the bed. After a second, he asked, "Why...why'd you join with the other army? Why didn't you stay?" It had been something that had bothered him since Talen had left, and he wanted to know exactly why things worked like that for certain.

((Sorry it's so short!))
 
Looking down at the garden once more, the elf finally walked upstairs and saw Dimaethor had taken the room adjacent to hers. She smiled, as it meant she would be able to get to know this man a bit more than she ever wanted to. It would make sense for her to at least get to know him. She had already decided that she may even ask him to describe some of his family to her. Then she would have to do the same, if she could remember them.

Sitting down on her bed, the elf began to undo the few belongings she had brought and laid them out on the room. Since it was all of elven design, she wasn't totally alienated by everything. She smiled and started to hum lightly to herself in the cool crisp air, knowing that she wouldn't have to be the only one doing things for long.

All the elf could hope for was that she could bring Dimaethor to some sort of understanding to where they both stopped being antagonistic and began to develop some sort of friendship. She took the phrase her mother had taught her seriously: the best was to defeat an enemy is to make them your friend. If she was able to do this with the fallen lord, she could have a much better time with him and possibly develop the stages of friendship. If this wasn't possible, getting to know this man wouldn't hurt her at all.

And so Demiel listened to him cry and started to sing to him a calming song which spoke of rebirth and love, which would flow over him and his descendants and love him to the end of time. he wouldn't get the whole thing, but he would at least be allowed to make out the gist of her song. So she sang for about an hour before sleep took her in a gentle tide.
=====
Talen sighed and leaned back, a little put off by the question. He had always been fond of his life up until this war, and he didn't exactly want to reveal it all. Yet this was his friend and his friend deserved to know this right now. So he looked Failen dead in the eyes and spoke in a depressed tone.

"I wasn't planning on it, but I had to. They took my sister, you remember her, right? Little Jess?" Looking down at his knees, he thought slowly, "They told me they'd let her live if I stayed. So I agreed and they literally let her go then and there. but I didn't leave at that point. I don't know why, I just kinda stayed. Maybe I didn't like Dimaethor. Maybe I despised his methods. All I know is something kept me there until I heard we were coming home and I...I...I almost snuck away. I didn't want you hurt at all Failen. I would've been crushed if you had died."

With that he laid down and started to shake as he tried to place his memories. He didn't know why he did what he did. All he knew was he had done what he had done and there was no going back.
 
Dimaethor fell asleep to the sound of the elf's singing, her lovely voice lulling him into a deep, restful sleep.

When he awoke, it was dark outside, and Dimaethor was still dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing earlier that day. Sitting up, he rolled his shoulders, stifling a yawn. Making his way downstairs, he lit a fire in the fireplace, sitting near it.

The warmth of the fire comforted him, and once it was going well he took off his tunic, and just sat there, basking in the warmth of the fire.

-----

Seeing Talen begin to shake, Failen went to him, wrapping his arms around him aas he pulled him back into a sitting position. "Y-you did what you had to...I forgive you..." Failen didn't know why he was being so comforting. Normally, he was cold at best, but around Talen he was comforting, caring. Talen brought out all of the feelings he tried to force down.

Unconsciously, he pulled his smaller form into Talen's lap, trying to comfort the man as best he could. "It's okay...now...now you're on the good side..." He slipped one of his hands into Talen's, his heart racing through his chest. Ever since they were children he had secretly liked Talen as more than friends, and this was the closest he'd ever let himself get to his friend. "I...I have liked you for as long as I can remember...more than like...and now that I can be around you I don't know what to do with myself..."
 
The elf woke up to the soft crackling to the fire and a smile crossed her fave. She sat up and sat for a few minutes to the sound of the fire slowly burning in the air of the household. It lulled her a bit, yet she didn't know why.

Demiel began to slowly work her way down the stairs, her long garment flowing down the stairs. She almost laughed, but she instead sang. She did a low and soft song, which was both alluring and tentative. She let it spill into the house, filling the air with all the lovely notes and sounds. It was enough to drive the coldest heart sift.

Seeing the man sit there, she couldn't just sit there and not join him. She softly sat there, smiling and thinking about what it was that he was doing. He looked quite handsome in this light, and she found herself wanting to blush. Looking to him, she let her hand brush his, "are you alright tonight, Dimaethor?"
=====

Taken felt himself get Sat up and his heart o beat. He had no idea what his friend was doing, yet the way he spoke felt...nice. He felt safer in his embrace, and he then felt him sit into his lap. His mind raced, as if he was in battle. He looked to his friend and then the words he'd never have thought he'd ever hear out of him were spoken.

"You...like me?" He said slowly, and blushed, "y-you really do?" He gripped his hand tighter and smiled, a warm and inviting smile. Maybe he didn't have to salvage this friendship after all, "I...Failen I...I think you've made me like you too.." His hand carcasses Failen's cheek.
 
Dimaethor stirred slightly as he heard the elf singing, lifting his eyes from the light of the fire. Watching her sit next to him, he forced himself to look away, trying not to be reminded of his wife. In the semi-darkness of the room, she could be her. Still, as she touched his hand, he didn't take it away, suddenly taken by memories of his beautiful wife, of her touching his hand in much the same way.

He nodded once at her question, focusing on the fire and imagining that he was seeing him with his wife in the flames.

-----

"I like you like a woman likes a man...I think I always have, but seeing you again has made my feelings come back," Failen said softly, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he choked out, tears stinging the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks. "I know it's wrong...and I know that you probably think me an abomination. Men aren't supposed to feel this way towards another man... I'm so sorry..."
 
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