The End Of An Era

[Taelian Edevane]

85th of Ash, Year 120

People die all the time, and most don't get to be heroes.

I've been given a strange and unlikely chance, at what some would call... redemption. Really -- not even that. Something else; like an escape, or an awakening.

I think I know where I want to be, and what I want to do next. I feel it within me; this brewing unease. I've been pressed beneath the heel of the revolution for so long, and now another; tied between Aldrin and Eloise, used like their pawns, directed rather than determining my life for my own self. When I was but a man, feeble and mundane, I could justify this reality to myself. I was a seed that had been planted, but had yet to bloom. Now, though, I've bloomed. And I don't want this life anymore.

I'm writing this letter to you, dear Wendell, as an almost-stranger. We shared flirtation with one another at a table in Essen, you afforded me the chance at courtship, and at the time -- so dainty, perhaps even afraid -- I refused.

Yet, I will refuse no longer. I've come to accept your proposition, and also to sweeten the deal: I am a Draedan.

I myself don't fully understand what this means. Perhaps I never will. But like Lorien's Kings of Old, I carry within me the blood of a God, and it has been awoken. I am not the mage I was since before this awakening, nor am I a mage at all -- not any longer. But, Wendell: I can become so much more.

If I am to leave the Covenant and still to reside in Lorien unharmed, I must find refuge elsewhere. I would ask that you, Lord Venger, be my refuge. I do not know what I can offer in exchange other than potential. I feel almost undying -- I can lift stones thrice my size, I can strike with the force of a comet. I can blockade against nearly any force. I am strong now, Lord Venger, and I will only become greater. If you have ever desired more than the mere tedium of your station, then invest in our marriage. Meet me in the garden of the Diadrus, come nightfall, and we will discuss. Tell me what you desire of me, My Lord, and let my light deliver.

With Aspiration,
Ser Stephan Lange of the Argent Knighthood. Your Suitor.

[Taelian Edevane]

As he expected, Wendell came. The sight of him lit Taelian's expression with the barest of smiles, as he looked towards him and politely waved. The two seated themselves beside one another, within the interior garden of the Diadrus, one of 'Stephan's favorite places to come. Wendell knew who he really was -- not Stephan, not born an Argent, and at that, not even an Elf, which was the identity he was trying to hide. He knew now that 'Sil'Norai' was only the ruse of his mortal bag of meat; that he was something more, something else. Elf was an appropriate word, but it wasn't the only one, or the full picture.

"I must admit, I did not expect such a... confession. A... Draedan. My. I've always thought you to be enchanting, but perhaps not in such an immaterial way. Are you certain this is not something you are being misled on?" he asked.

Taelian shook his head. He pressed his palm forward and channeled his Divinity, creating a Conquerors Ward around the two of them, an almost transparent red -- not fully opaque -- barrier of energy with crimson runes inscribed upon it. It was nothing like what Oath produced; this was something else entirely. The ease with which it was created, and even the power that was so clear and palpable that he felt as if he could see it... it did diminish the Celebrant's modest doubt. At least, mostly.

"My father is Jaxkael," he added. "I saw it -- a sort of vision. It came as I... died, or at least I would have, had my 'Divinity' not been awakened. I understand any degree of skepticism you may wield, but there will be plenty of time to prove my condition to you as we spend our time in one another's company. I've been reading on the supposed powers of the Draedan, and they are wide-ranging and extensive, affecting virtually every semblance of my biology. For example; you will not see me become sick or succumb to disease. I will no longer age, though you would likely not have witnessed such a thing anyhow, given my Elven lifespan to your comparatively short one. I am also, apparently, able to procreate with any other intelligent being at any time. You and I could have heirs within days -- a prospect I'm certain would appeal to any Lord."

"But--" Wendell interrupted. "I cannot be certain that there is any process for legitimacy, where it concerns said children. Lorien has been bereft of Draedan for hundreds of years, and your kind are - at least publicly - exceedingly rare. Any such laws of inheritance have surely been eradicated, and I would need to petition with Duke Matthias, or Count Duncan. Which--"

"Which I'm certain," Taelian began, "you will be able to do -- with ease -- as his most trusted chancellor and advisor. Is that really such a concern, Lord Venger?"

"I must ask: are you so desperate for this, Stephan?"

"Taelian," he corrected. "If you and I are to marry, you should call me by my proper name while we are in our own solitude. And yes -- I am. Yet not desperate enough to lie. Everything I have told you has been the truth, and I am certain - somehow - that you believe me on that. And so--"

"I never intended to marry purely as a transaction, Ser Lange," he said. "What you are asking is that I compromise my positive relations with the Covenant, the Pact, and perhaps even the illustrious House Galbrecht, if you do intend to retire in your position as a Thespian. All so that I may 'invest' in you, when my ambitions are not as lofty as you seem to imagine them being. I am content with what I have acquired in this life, and the prospect of more power is not enough for me."

"What would be enough for you, Lord Venger?" Taelian asked. "My affections? I offer them to you, freely. Love comes easily for me. And devotion with it. I already trust you: how wide is the separation between that and love?"

"You tell me," the man said, reluctantly. He lowered his gaze.

"Not so wide, Lord Venger," replied the Knight. He held out his hand, and took Wendell's in his own. The sad truth was: he wasn't even certain if he was lying. Was his desperation for authority so severe? He did not know. Everything became a blur to him. It had been that way since he'd died.

[Taelian Edevane]

Wendell was handsome, there was no doubt. One of the most handsome men he'd seen, and certainly known. His attraction went beyond his face, or even his trained physique. What was perhaps most striking about him was his intellect and good nature; his desire to do right, and to be honest and fair. Deep within, Taelian held the same compulsion, even if at times it was marred by ambition or willpower. He had always held a certain reverence for men like him; perhaps it was why he'd fallen for Riven so conclusively.

He did not expect to love Wendell as he did Riven. Perhaps he would never love another man the way he did his charming, gallant, winged-warrior. But Riven's dreams and his had proven to be thousands of miles apart, and at times, one needed to adapt - perhaps even desperately - in order to bring forward the change they wanted. The question was not whether he would love Wendell as much as he did Riven; in fact, it was whether he could love him at all. And the answer to that was yes. Perhaps as a friend, or a member of one's family, and perhaps one day as a husband. For now, he wanted his status. Marrying him meant becoming a Celebrant; it meant joining the upper echelons of one of the world's wealthiest nations. It meant power, and independence, the sort he'd never had. No longer would he need to scrape the boots of Eloise, or beg Aldrin for mercy. He would have his own resources, his own font of strength to pursue.

Perhaps, above all, that was what he loved. The liberation that Wendell could offer him. In exchange, Taelian -- Stephan -- would be the good, handsome, ageless husband that he himself sought after, the kind he dreamt of. A strong man, yet one able to use Divinity to forge his legacy, providing the heirs to House Venger that would outlast his own aspirations. Long after he would be gone, 'Stephan' would be there, a chaperone to that same legacy.

Perhaps they were using one another. That was fine, in some way, to both of them. An illusion of love, an illusion of independence, to form in symmetry two very delusional men.

"Lay with me tonight," Wendell began, "...and I will believe you. And come the dawn, we may present our intention to the minister in Kastran, and House Venger will proudly call you its second father."

[Haldir]

Oh Dear, you seem to have contracted a REVIEW!

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• 5 {No Magic}

Pieces of knowledge:

• Lores

  
  Negotiation: The Terms of Marriage
  Negotiation: Risk vs Benefit
  

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Injuries: N/A

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