“Voltur.”

He halts. 

- he -

- all his life is strength and lordliness - 

-he doesn't know how to be gentle enough for this elf so delicate you can almost see the gentle curve of his bones like-

Deep breath. 

Slowly, gently, he turns his head. 

Ophel does not look at him.

His voice is guarded.

“Go if you need to. I will not stop you. I do not know what I have done to warrant your ire. But if you want me to win–“ he says too sharply, like ice on his warm tongue, “– then we will need to work together.”

It's like all the wind has been let out of him. 

He sinks back into a chair, still not looking up.

"I am not angry. I am not ever angry with you." 

…

“I do not understand you, my friend.”

A weak laugh. 

"Nor I you. Where shall we start?"

He offers him a pale smile.

“I am Ophel. It is good to meet you.”

That gets a real laugh. 

He hasn't actually laughed in a while. Ophel was there the last time, he thinks. 

"Very well. I am Voltur, Duke of Volturgard. My son is a conquered king and I made a foolish bargain with a fairy." He fights down the urge to giggle. 

His half-hearted smile grows and grows.

“Hello, Voltur. I left my homeland to avoid duelling my brother, and I too made a foolish bargain with a fairy. Perhaps we know the same one?”

"Oh dear," his face is very grave, "it sounds like it might be catching."

-And then a note of confusion -

"I'm sorry - your brother?"

“Yes. I have a brother. It is… a long story.”

He can’t believe he’s never told him that before.

“And three sisters. My mother just gave birth to twins, actually. I visited them some months ago.”

"I had heard that elves rarely had children."

"And... I believe we have time."

He chuckles, and it is like honey. 

“You are correct. My parents are… special enthusiasts.”

They do not really have time, not for anything. That is all the more reason to spend it with one another.

“I came first. Then I came of age, and my parents thought they did so well with me that they wished to try again, or so I am told. Well, they swiftly lost interest after the next two were born – so there I was, a single father at twenty.” He jokes. “It was not so bad. My sister, Flarìth, is a delight. My brother, Astaldel, is quite the opposite – but I am working on that.”

He has never spoken so much of himself to Voltur before, not freely. It– feels good.

His nostrils flare. "That sounds - wildly irresponsible of them. You ought not to have been solely answerable for your brothers' and sisters' welfare. What exactly happened with your brother?"

“It was, Voltur, and that is alright. These are the ways of the elves – to my kindred, I am… jarringly stable. Besides, they are proving themselves good parents now, to the twins.”

He will finally take a second draught.

“My brother, may the gods bless him, is not particularly good at anything. He was a beautiful child, but soon he… twisted. As he grew older, he built some sort of resentment towards me. I admit that I may have committed some failures while raising him, but his urge to prove himself, and to spite me in turn, led him into the arms of a vampire.”

He recounts the rest of the story.

“I was Chosen that day.”

"I should like to visit the cities of the elves," he says, not really thinking, "it seems impossible that they should survive that way - well, many things about them seem impossible." Nobody ever seems to have an elf country as a neighbour, for one thing, and how exactly do you have a city hidden in the forest without farms - "that is to say - when times are kindlier, I should very much like to visit."

He clears his throat. 

"I am - impressed, once again, by your prowess. There are few who would survive an encounter with such a monster, new priesthood from the Dawnfather or not."

“And I should like to take you. They will love you, Voltur. People always do.”

He absorbs this for a moment, exhaling slowly.

“I very nearly did not. I was fortunate, that day. Sometimes I wonder if the creature is still out there, somewhere.”

The sun begins to creep down low over the horizon. Ophel can feel it before he can see it, with a turn of the head towards the window. The day’s end draws near.

He refuses to be swept away by the evening. Not now.

“And you, Voltur. Tell me. You said that it would be better to find happiness in these circumstances than to lay idle. What does happiness look like to you?”

"...It is not a question I have often given much thought." 

In truth - he thinks he has been most happy when he travelled the land, in the army and later with Astryx and Rastaban, when the world was at his feet. 

He is too old and too important a man now.

"I think - I think perhaps it is important that I find out."

Ophel nods, taking in every word.

“When did you last feel it?”

"... That night. We stood by the tree in your garden and-" 

…

“And the time before?”