Dellynthelaara met the gaze of Celerim and stood her ground. He would not block her path. Nor would he force his opinion on her. The noble High-elf before her contained all the values of a brother, she longed to have. A very soon-to-be her brother, that is, if they could work out the untold issue between him and Savvas.
"Delyn, are you still disturbed?" asked Celerim, genuine concern clouding his eyes.
Dellynthelaara slowly nodded her answer and took a step closer to him. "I..." She swallowed.
How did one talk about matters that one never shared with anyone?
How does one open up to another?
Another artefact of her upbringing. Dellynthelaara could not say if she could blame her mother or her House for her emotionally stunted childhood. "...I feel overwhelmed." It was a moment of her lowest ebb, and then, just as fleeting as it was meant to be, the hardened edge of a monarch returned to her tone. "But what is necessary will be carried out. I will ensure it."
Celerim studied her face intently. His upbringing of growing up with several cousins, despite being the only son of High-Archoness did show up at times. Times, like these, when he could sense deep troubles unfurling, when he could reach her, comfort her to reveal her unguarded side.
His bare open palm, took her ebonsteel gauntleted hand with a gentle disposition that was only possible among immediate family.
"Should you really follow through this?" he asked. "There is enough burden for you to bear."
When Dellynthelaara reached closer to grab his thick woollen tunic, her fingers found the hardness of metal armour beneath. He came prepared. If she were to guess, interlocked adamantine and mithril mail.
"You do intend to accompany me? Don't you?"
Celerim hesitated briefly. Then intense furrows marred his face. "Only if you allow me to."
His gentle concern in his voice filled the vastness of her war chamber, taking the void in it and filling it with his protection. But just like the drabness festering on the ornate chamber, her mother had painted a dull grey on her outlook that Celerim, more so than Savvas, eased the weight on her heart. At times, when he was not burdened by the oppressive secret she placed on him, when he would indulge in harmless banter with her houseguards, the tall and noble high-elf would affect all with his infectious candour.
"Celerim, you are privy to my secrets. Even Savvas..." Dellynthelaara promptly found herself pulled into his embrace.
Cradling her against his chest, he placed a small kiss on her crest. "That is why I am worried. That is the bastion of Sangunaris, the vampire rex. Nothing will be simple or even what it appears."
The finality in his tone rang true. As a High-elven Justiciar, he had dealt with blood-suckers before, even if they were feral ones. The subtle pull on her heartstrings was there. She knew he could read through the facade she put for others. The mask she presented might help with Sildavik, Myrtilla or even Karlienne... and...including herself but not him.
"It is but a negotiation..."
"Then why the armour beneath? Why are your heels encased in sabatons?" he demanded. He did not relish the hold on her. Nor did he force her chin to look up.
The ornate chandelier threw back a subtle radiance through the chamber, filling its empty cavernous void with the calming presence of Celerim. Dellynthelaara reminded herself of why she had those extravagant chandeliers and gilded scones fitted inside. It was all to accommodate him, for the dark elves needed no such comfort.
"Brother, your fears warm me, but I am not without my own advantage." Her hands caressed the softness of the woollen tunic, hiding the hardness of the armour beneath. "Besides, you, and you alone, know my true strength."
Dellynthelaara turned to look up at him. The fear in his eyes could be seen, even if not as clearly as by others. He looked so much more vulnerable, almost lost to the devotion to her, the thought made her feel rather guilty.
"Anyway, when can I plan your wedding? It would be the first festive occasion, and I am exhilarated. As a ruling matriarch, it falls on me to preside over it."
"Savvas and I... We... are working out issues." Her attempt at tact to divert did little good. Celerim's head shook slightly. Rich auburn locks falling and leaving his shoulders. "He knows. Or rather suspects."
"He does?" That was the problem with Savvas, her brother. Always perceptive.
"He knows there are things I am not delving into him. He also knows it involves you. He has gathered that I have made some sort of pledge to you, but nothing beyond that." Gone as the exuberance she often noticed in him, in its stead, pallid gloom, a signature of her family, loomed. "Can't say I blame him. When he knows his lover and his sister have kept him locked out..."
The message was clear. Savvas is made an outsider in his own family, by none other than her. It made her wretched. What about the numerous oaths she swore in silence to protect him? For Dellynthelaara was reminded of what it made her. Of what she had become... of the very thing she hated. It made her akin .... to her mother. No... It was exactly what her mother did to her. And she, in turn, hurt her brother the same way.
Dellynthelaara vowed to change that pattern reverberating through her being, cleansing the mistakes of her House. Of her mother. Of her grandmother and of her great-grandmothers. She would wipe away the agony that she unknowingly inflicted on Savvas. Embrace both him and his lover. Provide them the openness that her mother failed with her own children.
No. Her feelings ran deeper than anything. She cared for Savvas and Celerim too much, and knowing it made her even more distraught. More importantly. She is not Rylonvirah.
Dellynthelaara's resolve to alleviate Savvas's suffering finally convinced her.
When she turned towards Celerim, she found him a few steps away from her. Unconcealed curiosity roaming in his face. "It is almost uncanny. Perhaps, a play of light." Celerim pointed to the newly mounted chandeliers and the cool light they cast. "No possible."
Dellynthelaara raised a single eyebrow in question. She had other things to worry. A plan with the vampires, to abandon. She needed to be there for Savvas.
"I once met a High-Elf solicitor in Sarenthill. Your profile..." Celerim considered the uncrowned queen, then shifted his gaze to the chandelier, as if the low light emitted revealed what darkness and daylight hid. "... bears a striking resemblance to her. But Antilorwe is a full-blooded High-Elf."
"Antilorwe?" The corners of Dellynthelaara's mouth tugged, pulled aside by the impending revelation.
Again, it all ties back... To Cyrene... To Antilorwe... To their disappearance.
"Brother." The word carried familiarity, but not her intonation. The iron-clad power of a sovereign returned, lacing generously through her, bringing with it the icy cold exterior. "Your worry is duly noted, but matters of importance dictate my actions, and they are not for you to concern yourself with."
With a simple shrug of dismissal, she walked past Celerim.
"Dellynthelaara, perhaps could you spare a moment of your time?"
If Dellynthelaara was annoyed at being ambushed by Altonarrak, she masked her expression well. Instead, she stood tall. It was part of herself, a requirement to carry the crown of the Dark elves. She gave him a nod, permitting him.
"Have you thought about an alternative?"
"If you intend to dissuade me like my brother, you are attempting the impossible." There was hard steel in the way she uttered my brother.
"I do not intend to, nor do I consider diverting you." Altonarrak fell to one knee before his queen, despite the distance between them. The alternate shade of light and dark from the crystal-mounted scones along the walls covered his features partially, but the golden eyes still shone through. "There is something that could boost your influence."
The tone was familiar, though now emboldened. Dellynthelaara did not waver under Altonarrak's gaze, even if it were from beneath her, she could not deny its intensity. House Aealanninth always feed on its young ones. She reminded herself. That is the nature of her family and, even as an outsider, her grandfather is no exception.
"Speak," she uttered, a note devoid of any emotions.
"There is a weapon, attuned to you."
Dellynthelaara narrowed her eyes slightly, more out of caution than actual interest.
"Phantomsong and Lament," divulged Altonarrak, "a spear and shield, meant for the hands of none, except you."
"I wield a mind to win my wars," she retorted, moving past him.
With a swish of fabrics, and at a speed impossible to perceive, even for Dellynthelaara, Altonarrak stood before her, blocking her path. The ruling matron reminded herself of his dreaded moniker, the wraith of the tempest brigade. A title well-earned, considering the prowess he just displayed. His face still held that kind grandfatherly smile, masking what roamed deep inside.
"A weapon in hand does not tarnish the sharpness of the mind that wields it." asserted Altonarrak. "Besides, Phantomsong and Lament will only consolidate your prowess. The glow underneath your skin will deter as well as attract many an enemy. You command things that you have no rule over. Then, why fear the divine gifts of Resh'Ketu?"
"Borrowing powers from an obscure deity of vengeance is below my standards as a current ruling Matriarch of House Aealannith." The young Matriarch's tone held no emotion. Her rebuttal, stern as the gaze, swept past him.
Altonarrak only smiled. The kind grandfatherly mirth on his face, made anyone, except her, believe in his candour. "Ah little one, I forget sometimes. How it is to be young and feel overpowered in one's rising prowess." He closed the distance between them, laying a palm on her cheeks.
Even Dellynthelaara could not deny the affection in the touch and the gentleness with which he approached her.
"Come I will show you something," he beckoned her closer and added with a mischievous smirk. "What you are about to witness, not even Rillie was allowed to do it."
Dellynthelaara's ears perked as did her curiosity. The old dark elf chuckled in return and summoned Wraith.
"Come, would you like to hold?"
Dellynthelaara extended her hand. Finger curled around the handle of the twin-bladed scimitar and clutched tightly.
Nothing. It was every bit ordinary. The metal felt cold and hard. Even a bit of grime and dirt, even rust.
Then, she let her power flow and met the bubbling pools of magma lashing at her. Coils of liquid fire struck obliterating her will. Black phantom's rose, choking her. A hundred wisps stretched out towards Dellynthelaara, in a battle for supremacy against her imbibed powers.
Altonnarrak's chuckle intensified. Yet, there was no malice. Only a kind old codger, enjoying a moment with his grandchild. "Not that little one."
Dellynthelaara shot him the angry glance, spiteful enough to turn cockatrices to stones.
"Work it out with Wraith. Do not try to overpower. Do not try to subdue." His calm gentle voice guided her. "Coax. Not your tool. Not a minion. A partner. Treat Wraith the same. Offer to work with Wraith."
Dellynthelaara felt the turmoil subside, giving her a path to prod with her powers, the realm of a sentient weapon. A transient realm made to accommodate the will of one. The only response from Wraith was a dull hum and lacklustre aura that accompanied her invasion. Dellynthelaara pulled her arm away, dumfounded.
"That is the secret," said Altonarrak, face still held that congenial smile of a frail old codger. "Not to dominate but give what you can and take what you could. Would you believe if I say, for all the power that I have at my disposal and with the infinite might hidden inside Wraith, there are fights I could not win?"
"Why?" asked Dellynthelaara, her eyes probing him, trying to uncover the mystery.
"Well I lost to Rillie, and she was wielding a normal urumi."
Dellynthelaara knew her mother could hold a blade, should the need arise, but preferred an urumi for favoured choice. Though she dismissed all praise of her prowess as mere exaggerations, she could not deny the words of the champion of a queen.
"I tried to disarm her, but couldn't. She continued her assault relentlessly. In the end, I had to beg, to appeal to her sense of self." The Wraith of the Tempest Brigade shook his head slowly, but his gentle teasing smile never vanished.
Dellynthelaara pursed her lips. This is not how she expected the discussion to evolve. The realisation of his words stuck her deep. Was her mother ferocious enough to subdue to myth? Or did Altonarrak's fatherly love prevent him from unleashing his full abilities? Neither of the options was appealing to her, at the moment.
"Then, there was Lyriendriath of the unerring forging." A thin smile crawled onto Altonarrak's lips.
Looking at him, clad in tatters, with wraps around his legs, skin wrinkled with age, and weight of aeons pressing on his old bent shoulders, it was hard for Dellynthelaara to imagine malice lurking in his heart.
"I did not even summon Wraith against her." He said as if reciting an ancient mantra. "She would have knocked down all my wards, and shattered Wraith."
"What is the nature of the relationship between my mother and Lyriendriath?" asked Dellynthelaara, curiously piqued by the mention of the convergence of powers.
Savvas's recollection of Lyriendriath painted her warm and comforting as he reminisced of his own mother, Vaynlene. So very different from the version from Altonarrak. People are multifaceted, but could they have opposing natures indentured in them?
"Lovers." A single word. No further elaborations.
"But mother had a string of multiple lovers. What made her special?"
"They were or are still Lovers. That is all I am willing to tell." For a narrow precarious moment, Dellynthelaara felt that whatever roiled inside him would erupt. "If you need further, go ask Vangere. That is, if you find him and if he is not addled enough to make coherent noises."
Dellynthelaara let her eyes drop to the lavish threadwork of gold adorning her robes. They told promise of untapped wealth. But the beggar in the threadbare tunic, made her feel inadequate.
"Their mistakes are theirs. Not yours to ponder. Nor could you help. But I come offering you a path, to not err." With a sharp snap of the jaw, the gentle joviality returned to Altonarrak. "No matter the powers we wield, there are those against whom you should never bare fangs. Never to subdue but to align goals."
"I have been trained in politics from my birth. I am aware of when to bring an army and when to bring gifts."
"Then you should be aware that it is the mind that decides when to wield a weapon and when to offer a drink. Wielding Phantomsong and Lament will not tarnish your intelligence, for in the end, it is you who decides when to hold the weapons. In fact, it is an enhancement to your wit."
"Then, I am not witless enough, that is assuming Resh' Ketu is real... enough to covert the weapons of the Dark-elven goddess of vengeance and retaliation." Dellynthelaara glanced at her champion, a hint of challenge brimming in her eyes.
"Stealing is taking what is not rightfully ones," said the elderly dark-elf with a twinkle in his eye and another of his disarming smile on his lips. "It is not stealing when a rightful owner bestows it. Or, how can someone bestow something to the one who is the rightful owner?"
The flippant reply did nothing to quell Dellynthelaara's insistent and questioning gaze. Her eyebrows arched into crescents. More questions than answers. That is what Altonarrak has ever been.
"Besides, she might be the goddess of Vengeance, retributions and rightful retaliation... for others. For you, she will present a different aspect." Altonarrak stepped further closer and pushed the curtain of black hair from her shoulders. "Little one, I only ask that you follow me to her hidden realm."
"An intrusion into a supposed goddess of retaliation's realm..." Dellynthelaara shook her head in refusal. "There is nothing to be gained from such frivolous acts."
"Not intrusion," corrected Altonarrak. "I would be welcomed and her essence will rejoice when you join me."
"Grandfather," Dellynthelaara let her mask slip. "Have you gone senile in your old age?"
His brilliant golden eyes turned directly bore into her, and then he chuckled lightly and nodded with a thoughtful expression on his face. "A mother would always welcome her son, even if she became divine essence."
Altonarrak's golden eyes were blazing. His frame stiffened, and the resolve of Dellynthelaara stood unwavered. "Grandfather, if you need a physician, I will promise the wealth of my House to stall this madness."
"I am not the son of a goddess," Altonarrak spoke with a genuine smile. A faint sheen of tears in the corners of his eyes only added to the veracity of the smile. A pain that bare open all of him for her to see. "I was a mere lad when she pushed me away while battling the maddening horde in Naraka. By the time I made my way back, she was already elevated to divine essence. Cults gathered to praise and her apotheosis was witnessed by all, except me."
Altonarrak's golden eyes burned like glowing embers with all the hues of liquid amber, orange and deep crimson. A tear slid down the creased flesh of his cheeks. A single lone tear. And in a flash, it was all over. Dellynthelaara wiped his tears and then she pulled away from him.
"Goddess or grandmother, I have no need for a bestowed powers." Dellynthelaara gathered her regalness around and considered her champion. "I exiled my own mother to reach the throne of the Dark-elves. I will not bend my knee before goddess or grandmother to receive her blessing. I have no need for her divine relics."
Dellynthelaara shoved Altonarrak aside and walked ahead, the heels of her sabatons echoing her resolve through the empty hall.
"Besides, I need no more divinity."
