Dellynthelaara summoned her mask of regality to compose her failing nerves. No creases marred her elegant face, yet, like a caged beast seeking freedom, her heart pounded violently against her ribs. The young queen of the dark elves had been through this before, but this time if was different.
Taking deep breaths, Dellynthelaara walked a few paces. She adjusted the folds of her velvet robes, accentuating their sharpness, then she turned and walked back over the silken carpet. She ignored the opulent display of lavish wealth exaggerated by the golden embroidered linning the carpet. Nor did she stop to appreciate the richness of the tapesty or the fine carving adorning the woodwork or the rich jewel adorned alcoves.
She did not even bother to admire the intricate designs on the ceilings. Or the tales fabricated on the tapestries. She was familiar with those stories. Tales fed to her, since her birth. Instead, she kept her gaze on the exquisitively ornate painting on the far corner. She stared at the fstern figure. The regal figure of a mature dark elf, clad in ebon armour, her head held high, supported by an air of overwhelming demeanour. The dark haired beauty was flanked by two dark elven maiden, each a beauty to behold on their own right. One stared at the mature dark-elf with adoration and submission, while the other looked up at the figure with eyes filled with hope and salvation.
Dellynthelaara was certain that those were artistic exaggerations, just like the long staff -- an ornate sphere flanked by twin wings -- she held in her hand, or the lone tear drop falling from her left eyes, projecting a deep pang of loss at her people's peril. Dellynthelaara knew them to be fabricated. She was certain. For Former Matron Orllyndra of House Aealaninnth, was neither a frontline warrior nor was she the sort of leader to feel empathy. Sure her great grandmother was as consummate a warrior as any captain of her guards, or even most dark elven generals, but it was not her valour that made her a terrible opponent.
Oryllndra could definitely hold her own in a fight with her staff, but it was her tongue, and the way she wield it, like a barbed whip when she lashed her venomous words, that made her feared. Her spiteful words could batter a hardened warrior, reducing them to a blumbering mess. And it was her ability to hold those around her in a vice-like grip that gave her great influence.
It was not Orrlyndra's physical might, but rather her ability to hold and coerce that made her so dangerous in her times -- it was her ruthlessness, her utter lack of empathy, and her cold blooded will.
And her grand daughter, Rylonvirah was no different. Dellynthelaara was powerless to stop the bitter bile from surging inside her, at the thought of Rylonvirah.
"So...You have come further but have you progressed?" Dellynthelaara heard her mother's taunting voice in her head. Her voice was the searing edge of a sharpened knife. A cruel knife, with a sharpened tip that could lacerate the soul. It has been her mother's way of making her feel like a failure.
"I will not fail, like you. I will not close my eyes to the obvious, like you" Dellynthelaara told herself and with all the convinction of a monarch, she declared to none in particular. "I am a queen, and a liberator."
Dellynthelaara looked up. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she stared at the portrait of her great-grandmother again. Orllyndra with her staff that was more than ceremonial. Then there was her mother with her ceremonial longsword, reminiscence, though Dellynthelaara knew well that Rylonvirah, in actual combat, preferred an Urumi.
"I will lift them from the dredge that this world found itself in." Dellynthelaara repeated her soothing mantra. Her voice was smooth, but her hands shook, betraying her inner turmoil. Her fingers curled into her palms. "And there is nothing you could do to sway me."
The young uncrowned queen of the dark elves gave a last defiant glance at the painted figure of her great-grandmother. She took a deep breath, then she turned her head. She took another deep breath, feeling the knot twisting in her stomach in protest, and she pushed it aside. The young queen of the dark elves had to show no sign of weakness...not even in the solitude of her own company.
"Delyn," the comforting voice of her brother Savvas, broke her reverie. She turned, but did not look at her brother. Not this time. Her heart held too many conflicting emotions. She did not have the strength to bear the weight of his constant presence in her life...in protecting her from her mother's scorn. He had yoked the burden in his young days, shielding her from her mother. It was her time, her chance, to protecting him now.
"Savvas," responded Dellynthelaara. She felt her throat constrict, her eyes prickle with unshed tears. She allowed a bit of vulnerability to seep into her voice. A part of her that she would otherwise hide, from all, from herself, but not from her brother. "You have always been my pillar of strength. You were always there to hold me when I fell."
"Oh, dear Delyn." For a brief moment, Dellynthelaara thought her brother would close the gap between them -- a gap that she willing placed because of her position -- and hold her hand, but instead his face twisted with the contort mirth of eternal sibling mischief. "Or should I drop to one knee and call you my Queen."
Dellynthelaara let a peal of laughter slip from her lips, forgetting all that she was. Then, she reached and playfully slapped his chest with the back of her wrist. Her mother might have been wrong about her but she was every bit, correct about Savvas. Her brother did have an ability, almost like an empath, to feel, to perceive the emotion of others. But it was his other ability to bring the cheerfulness out of them that made him stand out.
It was a rare ability, that almost none had. She had seen him use it countless times. All those countless times, that he made her laugh.
"Speaking of me being your pillar of strength," said Savvas, with another of his i-will-pull-your-leg smile. "you too, Delyn, have been my source of amusement."
"You are such a smooth talker." Dellynthelaara smiled sweetly. She loved to tease her brother. Especially when they were alone. "I wonder, perhaps, did you inherit it from your father?"
Savvas shook his head. "Not from Sire." Not Father. Just Sire. Savvas never called his father anything but Sire, despite the effort of her mother. "I can hardly remember his face, apart from an amorphous form, almost blurry and dreamy. But Aunt Rillie assures me that he was more direct in his approach."
"Are you sure?" Dellynthelaara's voice was low, soft and most importantly, filled with teasing jabs at her brother.
"But if you have to know..." Dellynthelaara did not notice the note of fondness in Savvas's voice nor did she let the fondness distract her from observing the riposte jab aimed at her. "...It was watching Aunt Rillie and her marvellous attempts at seducing maidens."
Dellynthelaara rolled her eyes at his attempt, while Savvas winked at her with bright eyes and with carefully manicured fingertips, he pushed imaginare lint of the gilded edge of his doublet, highlighting his victory in the eternal sibling banter.
"I could hardly imagine mother being a smooth talker. She could barely say a kind word to anyone," puffed Dellynthelaara.
"Actually, she is," responded Savvas and after a brief momentary pause added, "I know you have a different view of your mother, but believe me Aunt Rillie is usually kind and generous, especially when you have moments with her in private and when she is not dealing with official issues."
Dellynthelaara knew Savvas's words to be true and the veracity of it hurt her more. Of course, Savvas would say that. After all, Rylonvirah had adopted him into the family. Showered him with all the love one could provide. But those were never meant for her.
Why?
The answer was simple. While Savvas was a child she wanted to care for, provide shelter, and raise, she was just brought into the world to take the throne. No. She was bred to fill the void in the throne. Dark thought surged inside Dellynthelaara. She was certain that her status as an Aasimar was another of her mother's ploy. A simple calculated measure for some mysterious purpose that only her mother could conjure.
Even Arlene, the rustic half-elven girl had high opinion of her mother. Opinions that cannot be garnered by mere might and guile, but by genuine kindness. Was her mother's kindness reserved for everyone except her?
A host of emotions surged inside, threatening to overwhelm Dellynthelaara. Her mood darkened, piercing the hardened veil of composed regality.
"You seemed to focus intently on your great grandmother's potrait?" asked Savvas, slightly squeezing her arm in assurance.
Dellynthelaara cursed herself for letting her emotions spill out. But then she reminded herself, that it was Savvas who read her. He could always read people easily, moreso her.
"Do you see the ceremonial staff she carries?" asked Dellynthelaara.
Savvas waited for the real question to come.
"Mother had a ceremonial weapon too, but she preferred a particular blade. A longsword. I have never seen mother wield it. Mother avoided its presence. Almost as if its presence brought pain but she would nevertheless carry it on ceremonial occasions. Do you recall it?" asked Dellynthelaara.
"Your mother preferred a Urumi in combat," replied Savvas, "and she was highly proficient with it. Any ceremonial weapon is just ceremonial. No need to pay it much heed."
"Celerim has a similar blade, though a bit longer and with range made to keep the opponents at bay. Do you know that?" asked Dellynthelaara, her eyes seeking her brother's for any sign of acknowledgement.
"Do you mean, if I noticed that Celerim has a long, hard, elegant and pointed tool," replied Savvas with his characteristic wink. The innocent youthful look on his face was a stark contrast to the sly contents of his words.
Dellynthelaara gave a sigh of exasperation. She did not miss the fact that he had not answered her direct question.
Despite the multiple traits that Dellynthelaara admired in her brother, it was infurating, especially when Savvas had decided to not engage in a particular topic. Concealed behind the sexual innunendo of a humour, lay Savvas's real intention. He would not engage in the topic. A fact that only added to Dellynthelaara's frustration.
Savvas looked at her with another of his teasing smile, so innocent and youthful. "Though, he prefers not to use it. If you need to know the details, he prefers a good tool in his sheath."
It took Dellynthelaara a few moments to catch the drift in Savvas's words. She quickly concealed her blush. Curious, she might be as any maiden of her age, but Savvas was her brother. She would rather not indulge her curiosity.
Straightening herself, Dellynthelaara collected all the calmness to compose herself and decided to approach the topic in a different way. "Do you know Celerim has an aunt, a demon blooded woman? Perhaps, it was before my time but Mother also once had a tiefling lover."
"Delyn," Savvas closed the gap, narrowing the space between them, he slowly wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer to his chest, "Aunt Rillie had many a lover. In fact, that is why she never stepped inside any tavern. Left one too many scorned barwench in every tavern. It is no surprise she had a tiefling for a lover."
Dellynthelaara found herself struggling against Savvas's embrace. She was about to protest, but she felt Savvas's finger stroking her head. It traced a pattern that she recognised immediately, a sign of care. It was calming, soothing and comforting. She knew not how much she could reveal to Savvas.
About Celerim's involvement, about betrayal and her mother's twisted will.
About herself. Her abilities that none could explain. Her abilities that she dared not to reveal.
"But why this sudden interest in Aunt Rillie's former lovers?" asked Savvas.
Dellynthelaara had no answer. Or one that she was willing to provide. She had to lie. To protect her brother.
"I think she might have cursed me," said Dellynthelaara, "even before I was born. Perhaps, scorned by mother's refusal."
"It would explain," said Savvas, "why you were a very naughty and adamant little princess." Savvas gave a small chuckle but the sharp sibilant hiss from Dellynthelaara, with the sharp edge of a monarch, made him drop his tone.
"Delyn, I know not what made you reach this conclusion, but here is what I know about the tiefling woman. I met her when I was really young."
Delyn found herself sinking deeper into her brother's embrace, his grip tight as the memory he held inside him.
"Mother just passed away and Sire, I can only presume in what was his way of coping with the pain, sunk himself deep into his duties. So Aunt Rillie rushed to fill the role of my mother, despite the obvious disapproval of your grandmother and great-grandmother."
"Why?" The word escaped Delyn's lips even before she could rein in her thoughts.
"Because, in their eyes I was the son of their vassal. Not Aunt Rillie's equal. They loathed every time I called her Aunt Rillie. But your mother was iron willed, even at a young age."
Savvas's hand gently smoothed the long silken strands of Delyn's hair, calming his sister.
"One day she came to our doors. Perhaps to repair some dented armour or mend chamber pots. I was too young to notice such details. But she was poor, alone and destitude. I recall Sire, handing me a gold coin, too big for my tiny fingers, to give her."
When Delyn turned her head, she saw a smile as genuine as the memory he shared, cross her brother's face.
"I remember, the way she took it and tussled my hair. Her palms were callous and yet they were warm and nice. That is when Aunt Rillie came and attacked her."
"But why?" She asked for the second time.
"In those days, Aunt Rillie was hot headed. Perhaps, she considered it an affront for a lowly vagabond girl to touch me or perhaps, it was because she touched me with her soot covered dirty hands. The reason matters not. What matters is what followed next."
"What happened next? Mother lacerated her and then seduced her with her dominance?" scoffed Delyn.
"No," chuckled Savvas, "Actually, it was the opposite. It all happened in a flash, so fast that my eyes could barely follow. Aunt Rillie unleashed her urumi and rushed and a moment later, she was writhing on the ground. Aunt Rillie was so full of herself. Unchallenged, None could best her in a combat until then. Until she put her in place."
"She bested mother in her prime? while mother was wielding a Urumi?" Delyn's eyes widened in awe.
"Oh yes," replied Savvas and then with a knowing smile, he added, "When she returned, even your grandfather would not dare to summon the Wraith against her. He had willingly acceded to her, almost afraid of her."
"You knew about Altonarrak?" stammered Dellynthelaara, feeling herself shrouded in an ashen cloud of ignominy. Only the familiar warmth nurturing from her brother prevented her from sinking deeper into cold swamp of despair.
"Of course, I knew." Savvas pinched Dellynthelaara's sculpted nose, playfully, with a familiarity that only siblings could avail. "When Aunt Rillie started seeing her regularly, she worked at her smithy close by. On many an occasion, I would sneak at night and snuggle with her. Despite the cold floor where she slept, it was always warm and soothing by her side."
Savvas released Dellynthelaara and turned her face towards him. "When you were born, she cared for you as her own. More than Aunt Rillie in fact. To answer your question, I do not think she cursed you."
"But..." Delyn struggled to vocalise her thoughts. She was the queen of the dark elves, the voice of power, and yet, for the sudden doubt the sprouted inside her, she felt herself relieved of her own voice. The words knotted inside her throat forming a hard lump.
"Delyn?"
"But..." Delyn's eyes searched Savvas's. "Demon blooded sometimes have a different anatomy. Some could hide their features."
"And?"
Dellynthelaara wrapped her arms around herself, holding her faltering resolve. "Did she have an anatomy that is otherwise not present in women?"
There was simply no other way Dellynthelaara could frame the question.
"If she had one, I would not know." Savvas shrugged. He simply stared at Dellynthelaara for an interminably fleeting moment, a look compassion on his face.
Obliterating her hardend will, Delyn felt a warm tear trickle down her cheek. She turned her head away, struggling to hide her overwhelming emotions and instead found Savvas's gentle hands wipe the tear from her cheek, just like he had done in the past.
"Delyn, I don't think your are of her bloodline. I believe the precise nature is a question only High Alchemist Vangere could answer."
"How could you be certain?"
"I like men and your mother likes women. Do you want me to elaborate on how intimate we talk about each other's sexual habit?"
"No," answered Dellynthelaara with certainity. She would rather not have those details. They would spoil her sleep and her waking moment.
"You have been staring at Former Matriarch Oryllndra's staff, then You wanted to know about Reminiscence and The Sentinel." Savvas's soft hands cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "What is bothering you, Delyn?"
"I am just overwhelmed with administration and...," Dellynthelaara's voice trailed. She took a deep breath and reminded herself Savvas is perceptive. More perceptive than her. "I have some troubles. Thoughts and difficulties."
"I see." Savvas's face was serious, his gaze penetrating. Deep concerns roamed behind his lavender eyes. "But there is more to it, isn't it?"
Delyn gave a weak nod of acknowledgement. "I am troubled, Savvas. There is a weapon. It taunts me. Every time I grab it, it feels like my own fingers clawing my eyes out. Something that I should command and yet, defies me."
"And that weapon is a Urumi?" asked Savvas.
"How did you know?"
"Because deep down you fear that your mother would return. That is you deepest fear, isn't it? But let me assure you, your fears are unfounded."
"But there is more," continued Dellynthelaara, "There is also a girl." Seeing the mischevious smirk suddently appearing on her brother's face, Dellynthelaara corrected herself, "Not that way you think."
Dellynthelaara hesitated for a moment, not wanting to reveal anything more than necessary to Savvas. "I only beg you, brother, what I am about to reveal, please do not ask me to say more than I am willing to."
Savvas cross his hands across his heart and then reached out to touch her lips, a secret gestured that only the two of them shared.
"I have a strange connection to a girl. I believe she might be my sister. What is more puzzling is that, she is a High Elf, I believe."
"If Aunt Rillie had another daughter, it would never be a High Elf. She was too conscious, in certain aspects. And even if her daugher was a High Elf, she would never abandon her daughter," replied Savvas.
But, she did abandon me
"If you really have a sister, it is safe to assume she comes from the other side of your heritage." Deep furrows marred Savvas's forehead. A single nerve jumped on his temples as thought raced faster through his head. "I think I might have a way to find your supposed sister. Not many High Elves would willing dally with a dark elf."
Dellynthelaara swallowed hard, suppressing the liquid fire razing in her belly. For all her courage and power, she could not dare to reveal the truth to him? How could she? Dellynthelaara was certain that she is not a full blooded dark elf. "What would you do now, Savvas? she asked, instead.
"Their oathvogts have extensive records. Even child of shamed union would be in their records. It is only a matter of combing through them, especially if one had the correct contacts," said Savvas.
"Savvas, I hate to intrude such a burden on you."
"Delyn, you are not a burden. You are my sister." Savvas's tone was gentle, but the weight of his words did not escape her. Leaning closer, his eyes darted around like trapped swallows, his tone dropped to a barely audible whisper. "Delyn, I would be gone for a while, I only urge you, to stay vigilant. Be wary of your grand father."
"Savvas, I am more than capable of defending myself."
"I don't think he means you direct harm, but his motives are shrouded in multilayered cloak of mystery. I do not trust him." The last sentence had a tone of finality to it.
"So where will you go now, Savvas?"
The old charm, the smile that won unreciprocated love of a few maiden and seduced a harem of men, returned to Savvas's face. "I am meeting an old acquaintance of mine, well versed in the bureaucracy of the high elves and with enough expertise and resouces to digg through the records."
"Does this acqauintance of your come with a name?"
Bow down to Dellynthelaara, Savvas took his leave, but not before making another flambouyant bow and said, "He goes by the name Leyandur and run a law firm."
Is the high elf Antilorwe?