[Maeve Debacle] Many Happy (?) Returns (Faust, Tiyribi)

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
September 18, 2013 07:41

Eras of marriage had also taught her when her husband's mind was made up. So she let the rest of the conversation slip into silence, leaving him to what she knew would be an active, frenetic stream of thoughts. He had been callused by the things he had seen and, perhaps, done in the last two seasons, she saw, and those new lines of care and worry that she had marked on his features began to take on even deeper meanings now too. Her expression turned soft and sympathetic, but still she said nothing. He had to come to his conclusions on his own, Tiyribi knew, and it was best to let him do exactly that without further provocation.

She returned his gentle smile with one of her own before turning to pick their infant daug hter up and hold her close. No, Iliviana wasn't much of an infant any more, Tiyribi reminded herself. It had been almost a full era since they had brought her into the world amid such dark circumstances, and it saddened her mother more than she could ever express that such shadows still hung over their daughter now. Tiyribi sighed, and then pressed her forehead lightly against that of her daughter's to derive the comfort of the sound of the little girl's breath and her gentle babbling to soothe over all the nightmares of the past few months.

While most of her attention remained fastened to her husband's conversation still, some of it broke off when Faust's hand touched their daughter's cheek and Iliviana immediately smiled. The noises coming from the little girl's mouth weren't particularly intelligible yet, but it was clear that she thought they were—and that Iliviana was very much enjoying being the center of her parents' attention. “Oh, my darling,” Tiyribi whispered into her daughter's ear while nuzzling the wispy silver hair whose color had been a direct inheritance from her father. Even thinking about having ever given her up tore Tiyribi to the very soul again. It was only with the greatest effort that that memory was so quickly put away.

“That poor child,” Tiyribi finally replied, still resting her head against their daughter's. “Was there no one else of his family there?” Her previous encounter with Karolus Maeve had been brief, if really one could call it that at all, but her experience with his mother—or presumably such, anyway—had been far more intricate. “I met the Duchess Genevieve once. She was pompous and arrogant, but she also struck me as...caught?” Tiyribi's voice lingered uncertainly over the last word. “There were conspiracies all around her to try to control the child, and while I think she saw them, she either didn't seem to care or at least didn't think they were worth considering.”

Intrigue and conniving did not make a proper fostering ground for a young boy. Tiyribi frowned and hugged their daughter a little closer. By now, Iliviana's small, grey fingers had found their way into a few strands of her mother's hair, and she was entertaining herself with weaving it between her tiny knuckles with a look of great concentration on her face. “It would be a hard transition, from the Maevewoods to here. Mayhaps he misses the trees and the fresh air.” That sentiment was a bit more personal than any before. As much as she cherished the safety, security, and privacy that her husband's realm offered their small family, Tiyribi still wasn't much fond of the environment—a fact that she only hoped would continue to soften over time.

“That's good,” she continued, still making a point to meet eyes with Iliviana, “for it would be a terrible thing for him to be all alone.” Then she turned a glance back over toward her husband, gauging both his words and his expression in that singular look. “They might not ever look for him,” she added with more than a touch of sadness in her tone. “Those factions—they are terrible things. They'd even forget a child if it meant more control and power.” Tiyribi sighed, and used the moment to readjust her daughter's weight across her waist. “What are you going to do with him, love?” There wasn't a trace of accusation or judgment in her tone; sincere curiosity was the only emotion present. She did, after all, know her husband better than anyone, and hurting or harming a child was a deed that she knew he'd never even consider.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
September 19, 2013 07:02

Watching the tender exchange between Tiyribi and Iliviana only convinced Faust more and more that some internal squabble was dividing House Maeve. His wife had already opined as much, but the universal nature of familial relations provided additional commentary on the matter. Even a blind man could have seen the love that Tiyribi bore their daughter. Would Karolus's mother have harbored any less affection for her son? Would she, as Tiyribi would have done had Iliviana gone missing, not have rested until every corner of the empire was overturned so that she might find him? That no one in House Maeve had publicly sought the boy's whereabouts was intriguing, especially when the family controlled the almighty Herald, arguably the most efficient means of recovering something that was lost.

Perhaps they had wanted him to perish.

“None that we found,” he said, reaching into the crib to retrieve a bizarre doll shaped like a smiling undead dragon. He shook it playfully in front of Iliviana, waiting for her little fingers to open excitedly before handing her playmate, the miniature Toherro, over. “Even if they were there, though, we wouldn't have known. I only happened to find the boy because he wasn't wearing servants' clothes.” That was also the reason why Karolus was still alive, Faust was ashamed to admit. In war, it was not always easy to differentiate the civilians from the soldiers, and sometimes the former could be as hostile as the latter. Hence, his orders had been to squash all resistance, whatever its manifestation.

Tiyribi's remarks about the Duchess of Plaeve shed some light on the family that had become their sworn enemy. The reality was that the only Maeve he had known of prior to sacking Maeve was Aryun Maeve. “I find it strange that a mother would not be more adamant about protecting her child,” he said, glancing pointedly from Tiyribi to Iliviana, who seemed more than excited by the presence of her parents. The thought distracted him, and he smiled for a moment as he stroked their daughter's silvery hair.

“And now that I think about, there were no guards accompanying the boy and the maids when they tried to escape.” His expression turned pensive as he replayed that fiery evening. He and his soldiers had been chasing a sorcerer down a hallway when he had spotted Karolus and the two women trying to escape into a side passageway. Not a protector had been in sight. “Do you think the Duchess herself was one of the people who wanted me to attack Maeve?” His brows furrowed because it was an absurd suggestion, but he wondered how the heir to House Maeve could possibly have been left unguarded while his men had stormed the keep.

The thought was sickening.

“The subterranean is not an easy place to live,” he agreed, avoiding Tiyribi's eyes when he said what he did. Faust had always known that his wife's place was on the surface. Ever-loving and sacrificial, she had visited him often in Har'oloth, but the vast majority of their time together had been spent in Centripax. He could hardIy blame her either. Having experienced the beauty of the world of light for over half a century, he could well imagine the difficulties of moving to the darkness. “Unfortunately, I can't risk letting him leave the Black Citadel. With our luck, someone will recognize him and word will get back to his family.” If they even care, he wanted to add.

He nodded silently as Tiyribi expressed her disdain for Maeve's politicking, his solemn demeanor conveying that he wholeheartedIy agreed with her. He could not imagine what would drive him to ever consider leaving Iliviana in the hands of an enemy. Nothing, he knew, and he shook his head again. “I honestly don't know what to do with him,” he admitted, “but I think that keeping him here in secret might shed some light on which factions are involved. It's only a matter of time before the Maeve are forced to declare a new heir. Depending on how the lines are drawn, if at all, we'll know where each groups stands. We might even be able to use him as a bargaining chip if any faction does still care about him.” He shrugged, not entirely sure.

“What do you think?”

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
September 20, 2013 09:45 AM

“That seems odd to me,” Tiyribi replied, her mind darting back to the memory of her last trip to the Maevewoods and how bustling the compound was with all the various members of the ancient family. “Though they obviously have properties throughout Enamoria. Mayhaps they were expecting you, after all.” The cold tone of analysis was quick to disappear, however, when she caught the slight hesitation in her husband's voice when he mentioned how the richness of the boy's clothing had saved him. Her expression softened, and she passed him a telling glance that had all the care and understanding she felt laced inside it.

“Mayhaps it was better that way.” While her initial motivations in traveling to Daltina had been to avoid exactly what had happened in Maeve, her experiences in the ancient city had dramatically changed her perspective. Her eyes grew thoughtful for a moment as she moved them to catch her daughter's gaze now, seeing the little girl so content centered as she was between both mother and father. There were thoughts about Freya's living enchantment, the unspoken threats, and all the rest that came back to light and were about to be voiced when Tiyribi's attention was caught instead by the odd toy that her husband produced from their daughter's play area.

She looked at it once, then twice, and then noticed how happy Iliviana seemed to be about it, welcoming her old friend with a new flurry of half-formed sounds and a brilliant smile. “Love, what is that?” Tiyribi asked with significant trepidation. It certainly wasn't any familiar shape of animal or figure that she recognized, which led her to assume that it was, instead, something more customary to the underground realms. In no greater fashion than this moment did Tiyribi realize how much of a child of two worlds Iliviana would be, caught between the ancient blood lines of mother and father whosecultures were more often than not at juxtaposition with each other.

Sighing, Tiyribi tucked her hand behind her daughter's head and held her close, wondering for not the first nor the last time how many odds were stacked against the precious little girl's very existence from the moment of her birth. The mention of the Maeve duchess's surprising reticence in reclaiming her boy brought another shiver down Tiyribi's spine, and she again found deep comfort in the sensation of their baby daughter's warmth so near to her now. “I don't know,” Tiyribi confessed, again letting those same thoughts of Freya and Bertrand reappear at the front of her mind. “There was a baroness there, Freya, and her husband, who conveyed messages and requests to me from some unknown 'higher source’. It was she that suggested I lure you into attacking them.” She wasn't looking at Faust then, using the excuse of their daughter's cooing to draw her eyes away and hide the discontent still brewing there.

There were things she couldn't tell him yet, she knew, given how raw and unbridled his emotions and temper still were. She loved him for that protectiveness of her and their family, of that consideration and constant desire to ensure their safety, but she also knew how far it could be taken and that, perhaps, it was better to be metered out. So Tiyribi swallowed the rest, all the details of Freya's spells and threats and everything else until time had sorted out the worst of impulse and the proper circumstance arose.

If it ever did.

“I understand,” she nodded in agreement with her husband's assessment of Karolus's living conditions. It was a terrible pity that it had come to this—but to think that it had all started by the Maeves' presumption on their daughter first somehow justified it all at the end. “Aeris and Aryun originally asked me to deliver the boy a message without the knowledge of his mother. Some sort of interruption at their estate made this impossible, but I assume their faction still succeeded in the end. After all, they came back to me.” And then she let that thought drop, as that particular visit of the twins to Primus Gaudeo had ended with her husband leaving her because of her inconsideration— a desolation that Tiyribi had no desire to revisit.

“I think that Iliviana needs playmates, children her own age,” Tiyribi answered obtusely to her husband's question, still talking softly to their daughter while she, for her part, tried to insert her stuffed doll into the conversation too, complete with animations. “And mayhaps he does too. Over time he may settle here, even prefer it to his family's troubled home, and when the time is right, everything may fall into place as you say.” She shrugged. “I'm supposing he's quite obstinate and proud, like all the rest?” Tiyribi quipped, a sense of amusement gleaming in the corner of her eye. A month ago it would have seemed like the utmost blasphemy to derive humor from the direness of their circumstances. Now, it almost felt natural—and for that, she was grateful to her family as its author.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
September 20, 2013 07:36

“It would seem that way,” Faust said, “but it still makes little sense to me. You said that while you were in Daltina you learned that Reynard Maeve and his legion were on the move. If he had been expecting me, then he would have been waiting for us at Maeve or at least close by when we attacked. It would have been the perfect opportunity to destroy us.” From a tactical standpoint, Reynard's decision to mobilize his forces after Maeve had already been sacked was nonsensical, unless, of course, he had not been previously informed of said invasion. There was also the very real possibility that the Commander Reynard had wanted his city to fall, but what had any of the Maeve to gain by allowing that to happen?

Maeve's destruction was significant for several reasons. First, it was a blatant affront to their ancient ducal family; second, it completely undermined their credibility and reputation; and third, it was a huge blow to their economic monopoly in the province. It seemed to Faust that the conspirators had had much more to lose by Maeve's destruction than opportunities for gain. Even if someone had wanted him to murder Karolus to pave the way for replacing him as heir to the Maeve family, what good would it be ruling a duchy that had been stripped of its throne and humiliated?

His ruminations were abbreviated when he sensed a hint of concern in his wife's voice, and he followed her attention to the undead dragon clutched in their daughter's tiny hands, its skeleton wings flopping around whenever she shook the doll. “That? Oh, it's Baby Toherro,” he simply answered, his countenance brightening obliviously as Iliviana smiled. He suddenly felt his wife's questioning gaze upon him, and it only then occurred to him what the source of her unease was. “When the soldiers brought her here, all she had was the blanket she was wrapped in,” he honestly explained, “I wasn't sure how long it'd be before she saw her toys in Primus Gaudeo again, so I gave her one of mine.”

He brought his face close to Iliviana's, and when her mismatched eyes peered at his, he grinned and kissed her on the forehead. “I know it's kind of old, but I had the servants wash it before I gave it to her.” Standing straight, he sighed nostalgically and chuckled as he lifted one of Baby Toherro's wings and flapped it as if the undead dragon were flying. The doll had belonged to him as a young boy many years ago when House Kitrye'veresi had still been ruled by his mother, Kal'adriel Kitrye'veresi. It had been one of the few items that he had recovered from the fortress's wreckage after Alaret Kitrye'veresi had attacked. In any case, Faust was quite pleased that he'd been able to pass on the doll to his beloved daughter.

“Freya,” he coldIy echoed when Tiyribi assigned at least one of the conspirators a name. “Perhaps we should pay this baroness and her husband a visit.” It was one of the best leads that they had, especially when all others had likely been buried when House Kitrye'veresi had transformed Maeve into a graveyard. “It seems only proper that we ... question those who held you captive.” That last remark rode the undercurrent of hatred, and the Vysstichi Lord tried hard not to scowl when he considered how poorly they must have treated his wife during her captivity. It was true that Freya was probably the key to finding out who the “higher source” was, but once that information was extracted from her, and House Kitrye’veresi’s torturers certainly would, she would be gifted with a slow and absolutely dreadful death.

His eyes shifted towards Tiyribi again, the mentioning of Aryus and Aeris Nlaeve stealing his attention. “What message did they ask you to give?” he wondered. With all of the wealth, servants, and contacts that House Plaeve surely possessed, why would the twins use a governess as their messenger? What's more, what important information could they possibly have wanted to entrust to such a small child? Depending on the contents of said message, that potentially meant that Aeris, Aryun, and Freya were all on the same side. That scenario was definitely intriguing, but Faust did not have long to analyze it before the conversation transitioned to a topic most unexpected.

“Playmates?” His ears perked as they were prone to do when his brows arched bewilderedly. “Sure, Iliviana will make plenty of friends because of who she is, but Karolus ... ” Faust's voice trailed off as he considered her suggestion. As he did so, he ran his hand down his scalp, his fingers combing beneath his silver hair uneasily. “He's definitely one of them,” he answered, his serious expression quickly melting into a laugh at Tiyribi's jest, “which could prove disastrous for him. He'll find the youths of Har'oloth to be ... quite rough.” Rough was an understatement. Indeed, even before Har'oloth had been united under one house, children had been taken from their homes at very young ages to learn the arts of war. Nowadays, they were sent to the academy as soon as they were old enough to hold their bladders. The city's longevity relied upon its military, after all.

He cocked his head to the side and studied his wife curiously for a moment. “Are you suggesting that we take him in?”

OOC: Not my best post. Sorry, I blame Nlatt. I got distracted when he posted.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
September 24, 2013 07:45

“Mm,” was the first reply she made, still nuzzling their baby daughter gently along the girl's grey check. Her husband's logic was irrefutable, but Tiyribi had long-since learned that very few things that House Maeve did were ever visible on the surface. “I'm not sure then. Mayhaps
there was another reason.” But what that could be continued to elude her, and, moreover, she found her motivation to unravel it quickly eroding. Despair over the situation had overwhelmed her once. Now, reunited as she was with her precious family, Tiyribi had absolutely no desire to revisit that place again.

It wouldn't leave them alone for long though, she knew, no matter how desperately she tried to ignore it. For that reason, then, could she not blame her husband for trying to probe at it further. He was worried; anyone could see that in the way his face was lined with cares and the way his eyes shifted uneasily at every moving shadow. Again her attention fastened on him, and again her expression softened. The last few months had been harder on him than she could ever imagine and that, in turn, broke her heart too.

It was all such a tragic, terrible mess.

She flinched slightly when he mentioned the condition in which Iliviana had traveled to Har'oloth, and again she clutched a little bit more tightly at the precious girl in her arms. “I thought it better,” Tiyribi said softly, “to avoid drawing too much suspicion.” There were very few half-blooded Vysstichi and Esh'lahier infants, after all, and even fewer that had the sort of social ranking that the daughter of a city's high lord and a provincial governor did. The same suspicion that had forced Tiyribi to part with Iliviana in the first place had guided her in doing what she could to disguise their daughter's identities from strangers' eyes. “I knew I should have come with her. I wanted to. I just also didn't want anyone to know where she had gone.”

Her eyes lighted on the stuffed toy in question. She smiled a bit when her husband identified it as one of his, and watched fondly as he used the same to entertain their daughter. Since her birth Iliviana had been anything but a typical infant, and thus finding toys fascinating enough to spark her interest had been something of a quest. The winged creature still seemed a bit morbid in Tiyribi's tastes for a little girl, but clearly Iliviana liked it—and it seemed to be part of her rightful inheritance from her father at the end of it all. That, more than anything, spoke in its benefit.

“No,” Tiyribi said softly, “I think it's beautiful. And so does she.” The girl's mother pointed slightly with her chin at the pleased look and wide smile now dressing Iliviana's face. One hand was still holding the toy tightly around its abdomen while the other was doing its best to mimic her father's earlier animation of Toherro's wings. “Sometime you'll have to tell her, and me, the story behind it.” Normal, after all, might have to be readjusted, but it could still be found. They simply had to look hard enough.

When the conversation switched directions again, Tiyribi made an effort to keep her eyes averted from her husband's as he soaked in everything she recounted. Again she swallowed the actual details of just how the Maeve had kept both her presence and her cooperation in Daltina, as it became quickly evident that her husband's anger was quite stirred enough as it was. She closed her eyes and made a motion to rest her forehead against her daughter's in an attempt to hide the sadness that was beginning to reappear across her features.

“I never read it.” She had let the rest of his comments about Freya and Bertrand slip past without hers, and didn't formulate an answer until his first direct question was spoken. She gathered herself, then reopened her eyes and returned her husband's look once more with a renewed sense of quiet calm. “I warned Genevieve that there were traitors in her house in order to see her reaction. She was surprised, but that's all.” Apparently the idea of deception and treachery was simply the modus operendi for those calling themselves Maeve, and its dowager duchess was not fazed by it in the least.

When her husband questioned her line of reasoning about Karolus, she merely shrugged again and looked away once more. “Perhaps then that they would be good for him. I'm sure he's still young enough to have the worst knocked out of him.” Whether that would be literally or figurative was, of course, most likely a combination of both. She considered for a moment what Faust had said about their own daughter and found herself idly wondering if it would ever be possible for Iliviana to be anything but that. Here, and in Primus Gaudeo, she was essentially a princess. Would anyone ever see past that—or, more importantly, was it even safe for her if they did?

Tiyribi then diverted her thoughts from their daughter back to the boy in question. “He's just a child. He doesn't have anyone else. His family abandoned him and now does not even look for him. You once offered to foster Kieran here to help acquaint him with his father's society. Perhaps the young ducal heir of House Maeve would do well by such an education too.” At that moment, Iliviana let loose a shrill sound and shook her toy furiously in the air, evidently a bit put out that her parents' attention had wandered away from her again. Tiyribi shifted her onto her other hip. “Our daughter belongs to both worlds, and she'll have to learn how to navigate and treat them equally. Mayhaps he ought to, too.”

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
September 27, 2013 02:51

“No, you were right to trust your instincts,” he quickly said, realizing that he had inadvertently faulted Tiyribi for their daughter's traveling conditions. It had not been his intention. “The road from Primus Gaudeo is long and dangerous. If word had gotten out that you were coming here, there's no telling what sort of ill attention you might have attracted, especially with the Maeve about.” Even though his wife had traveled to Vortex to visit him many times over the eras, he had never been comfortable with her doing so. Highwaymen, orcs, and raiders were more commonplace in Arium than law-abiding citizens. What's more, it was more probably true than not that House Maeve had eyes in Arium as well. Of course, he was duly aware that his wife could also take care of herself better than ninety-nine percent of the empire, but that detail was often ignored by his husbandly instincts.

“Really?” he asked when Tiyribi expressed her approval of the undead dragon doll. A light smile and thedip of his shoulders conveyed his relief. “Oh, good. I wasn't sure if you might think it strange. My oldest sister gave it to me when I was a boy. It was my favorite toy growing up, my only toy actually.” His voice trailed off at the memory. It was as vivid in his mind as the sky on a cloudless day.

Unfortunately, the recollection of Vylkos Kitrye'veresi was not all warmth and smiles. She had beentaken from him at a very young age, the same day that his mother, second oldest sister, and brother had also fallen.

He was unsurprised to learn that Genevieve had shrugged off his wife's warning. Although he did not know much about the duchess, he knew that most people would never second guess the loyalty of their family members. His mother, for instance, had made the costly mistake of trusting Alaret Kitrye'veresi, her sister, over a century ago, which had eventually led to Kal’adrieI’s downfall and the absolute desecration of her house. If truth be told, there was nothing that he or Tiyribi could do about it now.

The Maeve were a family divided, but they were still a family first and foremost. In the end, one of them would be standing over the other with a bloodied dagger in hand, but by then, it would be too late.

What did surprise him, though, were Tiyribi's recommendations concerning Karolus. It took him several moments to realize that she was serious, and when he did, he stared at her blankly for a long minute. “I suppose if they don't kill him first,” he conceded, his index finger and thumb stroking his chin in a pensive manner, “but I admit the boy could learn some humility.” That there was no jest in Tiyribi's suggestion made him consider it that much more. In a way he knew that he was rightly to blame for Karolus's bleak situation, even though the reality was that in war, things like this happened all the time.

His wife's subsequent explanation twisted the invisible dagger already embedded in his conscience, causing him to wince. It was true that Karolus had no one else. Whoever had been among Freya's faction had clearly wanted the boy to die, or else they would not have asked Tiyribi to convince him to waylay Maeve. Once again, Karolus's utter lack of guards and other forms of protection during the invasion testified to the same. Two unarmed maids could hardly be deemed adequate bodyguards for anyone.

“It's a possibility,” he reluctantly granted after some consideration, his tone vacillating, “though I wonder if he’ll just end up using that education against us as soon as he's old enough.” Strangely, the latter half of his statement lacked any conviction, and he knew that his wife would recognize that much. By the time Karolus Maeve was old enough to be a threat, his family would already be nothing more than a blot of ink in the pages of history, Faust was confident of that. The Vysstichi Lord sighed and shook his head.

Iliviana's squeal brought his attention back to their daughter, and he chuckled at her tactic. “You raise a good point, my love. I guess it's something to think about. I never thought we'd even consider taking ... a Maev'e in, but ... ” Stretching his arms wide in an exaggerated yawn, the dark elf paused when he heard his stomach grumble. “It's something to think about,” he repeated.

“Have you eaten yet?” he suddenly asked. “It must have been a tiring journey here ... and it's been a long time since we've been able to eat as a family.” His smile returned.

OOC: Sorry in advance for the typos and crapp_y_post. I was seriously experiencing blurry vision while typing this. lol

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
September 28, 2013 08:17 AM

She smiled appreciatively in his direction, reading easily between his words the apology lying there. In truth, though, it would long remain a source of shame and uneasy feelings for her. That moment when she had given their daughter to the care of guards that, though she had handpicked herself, were still just strangers to the little girl...the enormous guilt, fear, and worry would forever remain scarred in the depths of her memory.

“This, I think, is the safest place possible for her,” Tiyribi said, fondness seeping back over her tone as she dipped her head to meet Iliviana's gaze for a moment. The little girl looked up and smiled at her mother, then showed off the newest trick she'd learned with her toy, making the dragon's wings flap in an uneasy mimic of her father's. Tiyribi smiled, then let her gaze wander back toward the stuffed doll when her husband explained its origins. “It is a bit strange, love, to have an undead dragon as a child's toy,” for a moment, her voice trailed off, and she again felt her attention drawn toward the bright smile still dressing their daughter's face, “but I'm sure she loves it, and loves having something of yours.”

The mention of his childhood accentuated another line across her beloved's face, Tiyribi saw, and her expression turned sympathetic again. That, more than anything, was the reason why she found it a precious gesture that Faust had given their daughter his inanimate childhood companion, too. There were things that, when she grew older, Iliviana would have to understand about being a Kitrye'veresi, things that Tiyribi could never teach nor even feign to know. Her Andares blood would open doors on the surface, but Iliviana belonged to her father's world too, with all its secrets and starkly different way of life.

Tiyribi tucked a hand gently against the base of Iliviana's head, and then looked in her husband's direction as the conversation shifted back toward the young boy that had now unexpectedly come under their care. When Faust agreed that Karolus could use a few hard-learned lessons, she smiled knowingly. “Better to learn it now while he is still young.” Of course, she had only the dimmest impressions of what sorts of things the youths of Har'oloth might decide to pass along to the Maeve heir, but boys everywhere had a commonality—those here would just add another heightened edge of severity to their games, Tiyribi imagined.

She watched in silence as the decision weighed itself across Faust's face, tipping from one side to another. He was still furious at everything that had happened, she saw, and was eager to pin blame on the entire House Nlaeve for what had occurred. That this young boy carried that unfortunate last name bothered her husband's sensibilities, but the conscience and the gentle spirit that she knew he carried and had fallen in love with those many eras ago were still speaking their piece, too.

And for her? In truth, she held Karolus Plaeve no ill-will. He had been made the unfortunate center of his family's machinations by the heritage of his birth—and that thought struck too closely to home as she continued to hold her own precious daughter in her arms. There were pragmatic reasons behind her suggestion too, considering that Karolus represented both the bloodline and the youth of his ancient family, two things that Tiyribi anticipated the rest of his relatives would be anxious to preserve once the dust settled around their current games. It just needed to be given time, Tiyribi reasoned, and in time perhaps Karolus would cease to be a Maeve and instead find touch with the humanity that so many of his relatives had so easily and callously forgotten.

She shook her head lightly when Faust voiced his suspicion that Karolus would turn on them at the end, adding to the uncertainty that she had already marked in his tone. “You have been saying that Iliviana needs a brother...” Tiyribi trailed off, letting the mischief in her eyes also lighten her tone. “But the child shouldn't be a prisoner. He's far too young.”

Again she smiled at her husband's proposition. It seemed that his good mood was restored, and for that, more than anything else, she was grateful. “That would be nice,” Tiyribi agreed, noting that Iliviana was now glancing steadily back and forth between her mother and her father as if she, too, believed herself to be an integral part of the conversation at hand. “You know, I only meant to lend you my wedding ring. You've yet to give it back to me.”

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
October 1, 2013 07:32

For now, Faust wanted to say, but wisdom rejected the thought's verbalization. He and Tiyribi would eventually have to discuss the next course for their family. While Har'oloth might have been the safest place for Iliviana to reside in during her mother's captivity, the Maeve had surely learned of her whereabouts or, at the very least, caught wind of her location by now. With Aslangrad posing a great danger from the north and the Maeve rallying allies in the east, it was only a matter of time before they converged upon Vortex. The Church of Aslan was already galvanizing the empire to join it in purging the land of the dark races. Soon —very soon- Vortex would not be safe. The city walls would be overrun with enemies, and the rest of the world would simply stand by and watch.

His stress was quickly lost in his smile as Tiyribi approved the ancient doll, though he'd had a feeling that she would. Walking his gaze over to their daughter, he could not help but chuckle as she continued to flap Baby Toherro's wings, clearly engrossed in the unusual toy. However, his mirth was soon diminished by the memory of his recent encounter with the unruly dragon lich, who was, as Faust would one day explain to Iliviana, hundreds of thousands of times larger than the one she wielded in her miniscule hands. That would be quite a conversation to have with her when she was older. “You're probably right. I'm not very good when it comes to these things,” he agreed when he considered his wife's words, though the sight of their precious child playing with the very toy that his mother had given him was still an unimaginably heartwarming scene. “I suppose that means no swords for her either then,” he said, a playful grin lighting his features.

Thank the gods he was not raising Iliviana alone. He wouldn't have known where to start.

And now, it seemed, they were about to add one more child to their care. The notion was wildly disturbing as he loathed the Maeve family more than anyone else alive, yet somehow it appealed to his sense of humanity. Contrary to how the bards might one day sing of his brutality and mercilessness in sacking the ancient ducal city (they certainly would not seek his side of the story), he was not without a heart. Karolus Maeve, he repeated in his mind, trying to imagine the spoiled human child walking down the hallways of the Kitrye'veresi Dueling Academy among Vysstichi and Esh’lahier peers alike. The first couple of years would surely be a nightmare for him. The youths of Har'oloth were indoctrinated in warfare from the moment they were able to lift a sword, mainly because they did not have the luxury of living normal lives — not when nearly every race on the surface wanted them dead. Cunning, strength, and skill determined the social stratosphere in Har'oloth, not titles.

Another sigh betrayed his wavering resistance, and it was all he could do in response to Tiyribi's comment that Karolus was too young to be a prisoner. Had the boy been a young adult, the dark elf would not have had second thoughts about locking him in a windowless room until his hair turned white and his back curved from old age, but Karolus had done nothing to earn his fate, unless, of course, he could be blamed for being born. Ironically, traditional Vysstichi would have faulted him for exactly that as they perceived the world strictly in black and white — either one was an enemy or an ally. As far as they would have viewed the situation, the duchess's heir was a threat and should be treated as one. Faust sighed, only now realizing how much his years on the surface had molded and altered his perceptions.

“She does need a brother,” he said, chuckling as he noted the telltale glint in his wife's gaze. Moving towards Tiyribi, he wrapped her around the waist and drew her suggestively towards him, though carefully enough as to not crush Iliviana. “I just thought we'd ... go about another way of giving her one.” He grinned and dropped a kiss against his wife's lips, though a short-lived one as their daughter started to bat one of Baby Toherro's wings against his ear.

The hallway opened before them as they exited Iliviana's room, a black marble floor veined in white leading the way. Numerous tapestries and portraits lined the walls, depicting exquisite mushroom forests, elaborate underground caves, and long-forgotten ancestors. A few torches set in wall sconces also illuminated the corridor, casting flickering shadows along the ground as Faust, Tiyribi, and Iliviana passed.

“I haven't forgotten, but I'll have to get it back from the diviners first thing in the morning,” the dark elf obscurely said as they walked towards the dining hall. He bit his lower lip and scratched his head as he was accustomed to doing when embarrassed. “Some of my ... advisors insisted that the ring was either poisoned or IethaIIy enchanted. They didn't think you'd ever part with it willingly.” Indeed, how he remembered his generals and bodyguards flocking to stop him when he had reached for Tiyribi's ring. “By the way, where are your servants?” he asked, suddenly realizing that his wife's attendants might very well be outside the gates waiting for entry.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
October 3, 2013 08: 46

“No,” she demurred gently, “I think it's beautiful.” It would be the first of many inheritances their daughter would gain throughout her life, Tiyribi reminded herself—some pleasant, and others perhaps less so. The events surrounding her birth was enough of a testament to that. Her smile faded just slightly as she lowered her head to vainly try to catch Iliviana's gaze again, losing out to the girl's toy instead. “Mayhaps in a few years. Give the girl a chance to learn how to walk first.” Tiyribi turned a fond look in her husband's direction to soften her spoken disagreement.

In between the humor resided truth, though—and a cold one at that. Iliviana wouldn't just inherit toys from her parents, but would also all the derision and outright violence that so usually typified the relations between their ancestral people. And those weren't the only threats to her existence, either.Tiyribi bit unconsciously on the inside of her lip and pressed her forehead gently against their daughter's. “She'll have to learn soon enough.” The mirth had disappeared from her tone for the moment while her imagination ran wild, envisioning all the mights and coulds that plagued her sleepless nights.

Sighing, she kissed Iliviana's forehead softly and spared only a sideways glance in her husband's direction. He was thinking, she could tell, and turning over and over all the sides to her proposal about Karolus's welfare. At that moment she was incredibly thankful that he didn't press her for a reason for her sudden show of compassion to the child of their enemy. She really didn't even know why herself. Karolus Maeve stood as heir to as complex and complicated an inheritance as her own daughter and, perhaps, in that did Tiyribi find a sense of empathy with the poor, abandoned boy and her natural motherly instincts.

But then there were also the cold calculations and the quiet weighing of action and consequence still grinding in the back of her mind, she knew—skills that had laid dormant as of late but were not fully forgotten. Imperial politics were a complicated game, and sometimes seeds had to be planted decades before anything would come to fruition. For now, though, she knew better than to interrupt her husband's train of thought. He had to come to a decision himself, Tiyribi knew, and would only do so on his particular time table. It was better not to persist, she'd learned since their last heated argument in Primus Gaudeo that had sparked this most dramatic chain of events. Trying to make decisions for him had been one of the worst mistakes of her married life yet. She was far from keen to repeat it again.

She laughed lightly as he did and as he drew her closer, knowing all too well exactly what was on his mind. “Of course,” Tiyribi said headily as their daughter interrupted and their lips parted, not bothering to hide the slight disappointment across her face when they did. “I think that that should still be arranged, perhaps after this one is asleep.” Tiyribi tilted her head slightly in their daughter's direction. It was strange that they could so easily fall back into their natural patterns of family life given the torturous months that had so recently preceded this day, yet for that was she eternally grateful. Their lives would resume again, she felt certain, and they could pick up the pieces and move on from all of this.

Following her husband out of their daughter's room, she noted yet again that she'd yet to learn the first thing about navigating the Citadel despite her previous visits. Her husband's realm still felt unknown and foreign to her, and not for the first time did Tiyribi wonder if that feeling would ever truly fade. Though she might not have been fond of Har'oloth by nature, she had tried for his sake, and she was grateful that, for now, it offered a safe haven for their family away from the threatening world. That security was something precious and rarely found, she realized, and she had to cherish it wherever she could.

His answer about her ring surprised her, and she looked at him curiously. “Diviners?” Even the repetition of the word didn't help her understand any more. It wasn't until he explained that those around him had believed her token of identification had been some sort of a threat that comprehension began to dawn across her face. “Oh,” Tiyribi said quietly, suddenly withdrawn. “Or they suspected my intentions.” That admission, despite the guilt it brought, was understandable. She was an outsider here only by token of her marriage, and she had dealt with and then gone to Daltina willingly for all intents and purposes on the surface. What else were they to think?

At his next question, she in turn flushed with embarrassment. “I...” Her voice trailed off, knowing full well that he'd not much like it, and probably call it careless and unnecessary as he often did. “There are none,” she started again, “as I came alone from Daltina. No one else knows that I'm here. I've not been to Primus Gaudeo yet.” She looked away then, purposely avoiding his gaze and the reprimand that she was sure would be inside it. “I couldn't bear to be apart from you or Iliviana for a moment more than I had to,” Tiyribi added quietly.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
October 7, 2013 07:13 PM

“Soon, but not yet,” Faust lightly said, understanding the truth of his wife's words all too well. One day, he and Tiyribi would not be around to protect her, and when that time came, she would need to be ready to take care of herself. Fortunately, her regal heritage insured that others would stand beside her, but the adversities that had confronted her parents would be hers to bear alone when they were gone. The thought saddened him deeply, mostly because their dear girl had not even lived long enough to create problems of her own. If there was a way that he and Tiyribi could have shielded her from the decisions that they had made in life, they certainly would have.

Alas, it was not an option. The recent feud with House Maeve convinced him now more than ever that prejudice was not going anywhere anytime soon. Even though he had saved countless lives over the years, some of the very people he had once protected with his life had forgotten him as soon as House Maeve had publicly denounced the dark races. Allies, too, had turned their backs on him. In fact, only today had his wife told him that Elanara Al'lende, a woman who he had once considered an ally, had sought to execute him for crimes she knew nothing about. Indeed, Iliviana's future burden was one that he did not wish upon her, but it would not wait for her to be ready. No, it most
certainly would not.

“This one isn't likely to fall asleep tonight,” he muttered playfully, and he leaned down to touch his nose against Iliviana's, “because she's too excited to have her mother back.” He chuckled and gently wiped their daughter's hair from her mismatched eyes, tucking several tendrils behind her small but sharply pointed ears. “And so is her father.” A tender smile was sent Tiyribi's way as he guided her by the low of the back out of the room and into the hallway. Such moments as these were too precious to be taken lightly. Over the years, time and distance had taught him to find every second with his wife; the recent months and Tiyribi's captivity, however, had emphasized the importance of making the most of those rare seconds.

They continued down the hallway for many minutes. The Black Citadel had been constructed with a mind for defense, and thus, there was no rhyme or reason to the myriad of turns and variably-long passageways that stretched on and on through the shadows. Portions of the fortress had been fashioned into the rock wall itself while others had been completely manmade, adding more confusion to the labyrinthine facility. Fortunately, there were guards and attendants everywhere, the former usually standing at attention and the latter bustling about to complete their daily routines.

“Never,” he said when Tiyribi wondered if his advisors had suspected her motives. It occurred to him that his wife did not really know the people that he surrounded himself with on a daily basis, a reality that was easily fixed now that she was here in Har'oloth. “It's just that-” he paused and considered how to couch his response in the least alarming way possible, “- people are creative. The finest assassins kill with what's most familiar to their victims.” He did not elaborate, nor did he want to. In his earlier years, the Vysstichi Lord had played the role of an assassin on more than one occasion, though he had never done so for money. There had always been a purpose, a cause. Still, some of his methods had been less than savory.

“You came alone?” his expression twisted with concern. “You know I- that was dangerous, Tiyribi. I know you can take care of yourself, but that's a very long way to travel alone, especially with the Maeve after us.” He sighed, though his stern mien eventually eroded under the heartfelt words that she used to justify her decision. Given how happy he was to see her after all these months, it was unsurprisingly very easy to forget his frustration. “What am I supposed to say to that?” he honestly asked, his laughter touching the air as he shook his head hopelessly.

“I don't mean to nag. I just ... worry about you is all,” he said when they arrived at the private dining hall, which was automatically opened by two servants when they spotted the royal family. The dining hall itself was an elaborate room complete with colorful tapestries and a soft purple carpet atop the black stone floor. In the center was a rectangular table surrounded by six chairs, one at each end and two on both sides. There was also a high, wooden toddler's chair next to one of the head seats. A low-hanging chandelier highlighted the shiny silverware that was set on the table already, and contributing to the illumination was a dancing hearth tucked against one of the walls, a swinging door leading to the kitchen on its right.

“Do you have a craving for anything in particular?” he asked, pulling a chair out for Tiyribi and the specially-made one for Iliviana. “Kamal is a fine chef. He's been with me since I met him in Imperia maybe seven or eight ordinances ago.”

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
October 8, 2013 08:45

She laughed, watching as their daughter giggled at her father's antics and presented her stuffed Toherro proudly in one hand for his inspection. Iliviana smiled when their noses touched, then made a show of hiding her face behind one of her toy's wings and looking shyly around it at her father, ma king a variety of different expressions in the process. “Or else she's already growing adept at working around us,” Tiyribi noted lightheartedly, fully aware that Iliviana had long ago managed to wrap her father around her little finger and used that power fearlessly with all the forthrightness and innocence due to her youth.

Her mother wasn't much better, Tiyribi knew, as she again relished the weight of her beloved child in her arms and enjoyed this moment of reunion far more than she ever thought possible. It was even enough to overwhelm any sense of regret she might have carried about having missed out on the last few months. Iliviana had grown so much and so rapidly since Tiyribi had tucked her carefully in and sent her away with a last desperate prayer. Her husband was right; before they knew it, their little girl would be up walking, talking, and probably chiding her parents for the foolishness of their many mistakes.

She heard the gentle, warm tone return to her husband's voice, and she turned her gaze toward him just in time to measure the soft smile he sent her way. It was the same one he had used when he'd come to see her in Primus Gaudeo after two eras of separation, she marked, and it foretold of that lifetime they had promised to each other in the days that followed. "I'm here now,” the words finally came softly, “and I'll not leave again.” Tiyribi smiled back at her beloved, thinking that maybe, just maybe, they weren't all that far removed from the couple that had stood on the rooftops with all the hope that awakened love could ever stir.

Letting her husband gently guide their family down the hall, Tiyribi noticed just how busy the entire Citadel was, and in a way that was somehow different than the last time she had visited. She had guessed, of course, that matters in Enamoria had put the entire city of Har'oloth on high alert at her husband's behest and defense, but seeing it first hand was another matter entirely. Despite the heavy presence of Esh’lahier in her husband's realm, Tiyribi still had always felt out of place here and sometimes had even wondered just how many of Faust's loyal subjects had objected, silently or otherwise, to their lord taking an Esh’lahier and a surface-dweller as his consort.

That same suspicion appeared again when she offered an opposite explanation to her husband's about his advisors' actions. Even when he denied it so staunchly, she couldn't help but think that perhaps he was just doing it for her benefit. "Well,” she started, “you canassure them then that I did not part with it willingly at all, nor will I ever.” It wasn't the time to have that conversation yet. Still, the weightlessness on her finger did nag at her, given that she hadn't removed her wedding band since that evening in the Faille Grove that Faust had put it on her finger.

That event gave him the right to worry as he did, Tiyribi reminded herself as her husband reacted in exactly the way she had predicted, vacillating between annoyance and frustration as was apparent in his tone. She waited it out, and was relieved to hear it lighten far quicker than it ever had and even begin to evaporate—but never, she knew, entirely forgotten. "Hopefully forgive me." She shrugged, and then finally dared a look in her husband's direction. “It really isn't all that long, if you think about it. I know you worry; I do. And I don't mean to add to that.“ But that rebelliousness that had flustered Malkaer who had had the same sorts of concerns about her lackadaisical attitude toward her personal safety was still present and not tempered by the years. It was just something she'd have to avoid bringing up in her husband's presence again in the future.

“Is she eating solid food already?” Her attention swept back to their infant daughter still carried in her arms, the latter of which had taken to biting idly on the edge of Toherro's wing. Iliviana instantly perked up as if she knew the conversation had cycled back around to her again and began to make babbling sounds to add to the dialogue. Tiyribi moved toward the high chair that her husband had already readied for their daughter and placed the girl carefully in it. Then she took to her seat too and let her eyes follow her husband until he found his. “Definitely not peaches.” The answer dredged up some rather unpleasant memories of another pracenda in Primus Gaudeo with a figure that had already been named far enough this day, and did not need to be revived any more.

“I honestly...” And her voice trailed off as she realized just how badly she had cared for herself over the last few months, and how most normal impulses, including her appetite, remained elusive. The trouble of the last season had been saddled far too quickly on the toll that her daughter's birth had taken, and thus had never given Tiyribi a chance to properly recover from either. “Something light would be wonderful. A soup perhaps?”

Her eyes had still been following her husband all this time, marking how he moved and where he looked and how he carried himself. Her expression flashed hints of worry that he'd probably mark if saw them. She remembered the Dread Knight's half-finished comment when he had escorted her here, and she felt that same sense of trepidation and concern creep up again as it did before. “Are you all right?” she asked, reaching forward to rest one of her hands on his. There was a quiet depth to her words that said they meant far more than just what appeared on the surface.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
November 2, 2013 08:47 AM

Hide and seek had become a popular pastime for him since Iliviana had arrived in Har'oloth. The maids had often commented on the girl's seemingly endless supply of energy, which, when coupled with her unusually-heightened sense of awareness despite her age, equated in a handful to monitor. Even so, Faust had found himself enjoying these sorts of moments with his daughter, something that he had never expected when Tiyribi had first told him that he was going to be a father. The news had terrified him, especially as his interactions with children had been limited through the years, but Iliviana had grown on him so quickly that he didn't know how he had ever managed without her.

Grinning as the girl giggled, he pretended not to notice Iliviana's peeking eye as he sneakily reached around the small Toherro doll and flicked the undead dragon's other wing over its soft body to playfully rap his daughter on the backside. “That may very well be so,” he confessed, exchanging a hopeless shake of the head with his wife. It saddened him to think that one day Iliviana would be too old to play with. Even though it was technically him taking care of her, at least, to the eyes of third parties, he secretly admitted that he probably had more fun engaging in her childish games than she did with him. Such innocent activities were rare opportunities for him to escape from the world, to return to a childhood that he had never been a party to.

“Eventually you'll have to,” he remarked, and there was no denying the veracity of that statement. However, a smile nevertheless waltzed across his lips. “But when you do, you'll not go alone. Never again.” Like hers, the assurance was absolutely impossible to guarantee in a physical sense as both of them had duties on opposite sides of the provincial spectrum. The promise, though, was much more meaningful. It was his pledge to never leave her again, not even when he disagreed with her like he had in Primus Gaudeo shortly before his journey to the Maeve in Daltina. That decision had led them down a dangerous road that they had only recently begun to find their way out of. But from now on, they would embark on their journey together as they had vowed to do those many years ago in Medonia.

He knew how much her ring meant to her. Seeing the unease on his wife's expression reminded him how difficult it had been for her to part with that sentimental item, particularly as she had not known the state of his affections at the time. “It's in safe hands,” he said, bringing her pale hand to his lips and kissing it gently, reassuringly. “They'll not let anything happen to it. I promise.”

Upon closing the door behind him to secure their privacy during their first meal together in a long time, Faust knew that he could not begrudge his wife even though the concern had shown plainly on his features before. And how could he? She had risked herself to see him and their daughter without even knowing how he felt about her decision to travel to Daltina alone. Her innocent apology drew his gaze, and all he could do was chuckle. “If she-” he motioned with his chin towards Iliviana, “- ever uses that line on us, I will blame you.” His tone was lighthearted and playful, though there was some sincerity to his words. Considering how intelligent their daughter was, it was not difficult to imagine her replicating her mother's talent with words.

“She doesn't like the baby food here, so I started cutting up some *grown up’ food for her,” he hopelessly said, cringing as he recalled the assortment of mashed up mushrooms and other subterranean fungi that infants of Har'oloth typically consumed during their prepubescent years. Iliviana had looked at him like he had betrayed her when he had tried to feed her a spoonful of that unusual medley. “She seems to like it?” He shrugged. Once again, it was obvious that the entire parenting experience was new to him.

Not long after the family settled at the table, a group of servants in black cassocks entered the dining hall. They wore their white or silver hair in pony tails and moved with the grace and familiarity trademark of their people. “Milord, milady, princess,” one of the men said, a middle-aged Vysstichi whose Charismean was much too fluid to have been acquired as a second language. If he seemed surprised to see Tiyribi in the room, he hid it behind a smile teeming with the courtesy and politeness of a well-trained attendant. As the other servants set the table with silver place settings, golden goblets filled with wine (milk for the little girl), and a rare platter of fruit imported from the surface, Faust shared a few words with the head attendant before sending him off to comply with his family's order.

Left alone again with his family, the dark elf turned back to Tiyribi in time to notice the concern that flickered across her countenance. She could see right through him, he knew, and the legion of troubles that demanded his urgent care. And as much as he wanted to assure her that all was well in the world now that she had returned to him, he was quite aware that she would penetrate that lie like a knife slicing through a leaf. “Now that you're here, I know that I will be,” the honest response spilled forth. He opened his black hands to hers, his fingers closing gently around it. “Tiyribi, I want you to know that ... what I've done, I'm not proud of it.” There was guilt there, a quality seldom heard from the man who had, once upon a time, never been known to raise his sword against innocent lives.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
November 8, 2013 09:54

Not even an era had passed since their beautiful daughter had been born, and yet the infant was already becoming an eager toddler and growing increasingly independent. Every day was filled with a thousand different “firsts” and memories that the adults around her would cherish and remind her of for the rest of her life. To think that Tiyribi had missed so many of them during her stay in Daltina, that she had missed this, the whimsical play between father and daughter and how eager they both were to partake in it...

...it truly broke her heart. She stifled most of a sigh as she watched Iliviana try to track her father's movements with her mismatched eyes with a skill that betrayed just how often they had played this game before. She should have been here. Nothing in the world should have ever torn her away from her family, and it hurt her more than anything ever could to know that the past few months was time that she would never be allowed to relive. A single hand escaped to wipe a few strands of silvery hair away from her daughter's face, but gently enough to not interrupt her play.

Tiyribi glanced at her husband when he spoke, marking just how much he was enjoying himself in their little game of make-believe. It did her all the good in the world to see that, and it would serve as the start of the healing process to cover over the troubles that the last few months had wrought. It would take time, she knew, to regain what had been lost. Some of it never would be recoverable. But now, with her worry and concern and greatest fears allayed, the confidence of her healthy, whole daughter in her arms and the renewed affirmation of her husband's affections, she had all the things that truly mattered.

A faint, sad smile appeared on her face when Faust corrected her point about the disparate reality of their lives. It was true; she had left a province and a people, and this precious time would come to an end far sooner than either of them would have liked. Yet she also heard the conviction and assurance in his voice as he spoke, promising that their hearts and souls would never be willingly separated again. “I know that now,” Tiyribi replied softly, letting the gratitude and quiet confidence in her gaze tell the rest of the story that her words had omitted. Maybe it wasn't reclaiming their past that they needed; maybe, instead, they were meant for an utterly different future that would and could be better.

Her eyes followed his as he took her hand. His assurances wore away the rougher edges of her worry, but she still felt the nagging in the back corner of her head that some in Har'oloth most likely doubted her intentions and motivations—and rightfully so. Still, Tiyribi thought it best to let the matter go for now and instead enjoyed yet another display of her husband's tender devotion and care for her and her concerns. “So long as you promise,” she said teasingly.

The mention of their daughter drew Tiyribi's attention back to the precious bundle still trundled carefully in her arms. She pressed her nose against the young girl's fondly, and smiled when Iliviana looked up at her in turn. “I'm sure she'll have plenty better when she starts to talk.” Their daughter was, after all, an extraordinarily gifted child, and had been since the very day of her birth. Thus it took little imagination to see her running circles, literally and proverbially, around her parents in no time at all. “It's good that she likes it.” There was a soothing tone to her voice as she spoke, trying her best to set her husband's mind at ease. The last few months as a single parent had assuredly been difficult on him as well, Tiyribi could see, and he seemed so ill at ease and self-deprecating still. “I just can't get over how grown-up she's become since I saw her last.”

Memories were lost, Tiyribi reminisced, but there were still more to be formed as she seated herself carefully near the two she loved beyond all else in this world. For a moment their privacy was interrupted as the train of servants came in to prepare the table, only one of which actually addressed the family directly. Her demeanor withdrew for a moment, still unsure of just where she stood in her husband's seat of power and after the long months of absence and uncertainty, but still managed a careful look and deliberate nod in the man's direction when he made mention of her presence. She could only imagine that news traveled as fast here in the Citadel as it did in the Concordia Incola, and thus many, if not all, her husband's attendants were already made aware of her sudden reappearance.

She waited deliberately until they had left before leaning over toward her husband and clasping his hand gently. She watched him, anxious, with eyes that were made keener by the years of marriage and the familiarity it brought, as he struggled to put into words the answer she sought. “’Will’, but not ’am’?” Tiyribi queried softly, then let her fingers intertwine with his. “Oh, love. I think we both feel that.” She had been told, of course, of the events in Maeve—or at least as much as had filtered through her keepers while in Daltina. Most of the true extremity had been hidden from her, but it had been enough to incite the ire of every person with Maeve blood present in the basilica at its telling.

“What happened?” came the quiet question, though without a single hint of judgment or condemnation in its tone. It was spoken leadingly, making it clear that Tiyribi had asked it out of a purposeful line of logic that she meant to see to its conclusion. “I know you well, beloved. There is something heavy on your mind.” Her hand tightened comfortingly around his as she spoke. He had originally left Primus Gaudeo in the height of temper and broken-heartedness—two states for which Tiyribi was wholly responsible. He was resolute when he had returned, and even though he never said as much, she could very easily his intentions between the lines of his speech. But now? This was something far different than those two last memories she had of her husband, and it incited a terrible, dark feeling in her at its appearance.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
November 13, 2013 06:39

It warmed his heart to see both mother and daughter reunited. Even though he had provided what care that he could in Tiyribi's absence, he knew that nothing and no one would ever be able to replace her in Iliviana's life. The way that the girl smiled and giggled when Tiyribi touched noses with her was a precious moment to behold, one that the dark elf candidly enjoyed observing from across the dinner table. He could only imagine how many times his wife had envisioned this exact scene when House N!aeve had imprisoned her in Daltina. That she was now free to cherish her daughter as Carmelya had intended was a privilege, he knew, that Tiyribi would never allow anyone to take away from her again.

His wife's insightful prodding after the servants departed to the kitchen elicited a light chuckle from him. Despite their months apart, time had not dulled her ability to read him like one of her many correspondences. She knew him better than she did the pages of her spell book, which made it extremely difficult to slip anything past her attention. It was what made her his wife, his best friend, and his confidant. Vulnerability was not a trait that Vysstichi-kind tolerated in their ilk. The slightest hint of weakness often resulted in indentured servitude or death at birth, and it was that same supremacist mentality that had enabled the ostracized dark elves to survive for as long as they had. It was also, perhaps, the reason why it had taken the Prince of Har'oloth many years to acclimate to the fact that he could not hide anything from Tiyribi's sharp eyes and senses.

He would have had it no other way.

“I don't know what they told you about what happened at Maeve,” he said, his gaze downcast and finding refuge in the platter of expensive cheeses and fruits on the table, “but I can't imagine that it was far from the truth.” Knowing that Tiyribi would never judge him for his previous conduct did not make confessing it any easier to her. As her husband, he had long held himself to a certain standard, one that he had hoped she would be proud to boast of to her friends, her relatives, and her people. The Herald had not described the incident in great detail, but anyone within earshot of a whispering rumor would have had no difficultly connecting him to that macabre evening when the night had come alive and the Black Legion and the ratta army had descended upon Maeve like Jalat himself.

“We attacked only hours after they climbed into their beds,” he softly said. The dull glint in his crimson orbs narrated the tale of savagery, bloodshed, and mercilessness — adjectives that had most certainly never been used to describe the dark elf. Only the touch of her hand against his brought him back to the present moment and emboldened him to meet her gaze, albeit slowly. “First we scaled their walls and killed the watchmen,” he continued, reliving every single second of that infiltration, which he had personally led. Indeed, under the cover of shadows they had stalked the streets, murdering the Maeve guard without notice or warning of any kind. Most of the defenders had not even had enough time to draw their swords. “Then we worked our way to the main gates, butchering the soldiers in the area before opening the entire city ...”

He sighed deeply, the breath fleeing his lungs as if it had been trapped for many minutes. Looking at Iliviana, so innocent and happy in her high chair, only twisted the knife that was his guilt. “We killed everyone, Tiyribi.” He shook his head, obviously ashamed of the admission. “Man, woman, child. Armed or unarmed. I've never done that before, not once. I was just so ... angry. All I wanted was for them to pay for what they did to us, for what they did to you. I've fought many wars, but I've never killed innocent people like that.” He slouched in his seat, hanging his head in patent disgrace. Her touch was the only comfort to him at that moment, though he feared to look at her lest he see in her expression the monster that he had become. “I thought that the Maevewood Legion was going to be there,” he grimly explained, “but they had left behind only a small contingent of guards. It was an absolute slaughter.”

That night had haunted him for many months, and Karolus's captivity in Har'oloth was a constant reminder of the barbarism that he and his forces had showed to their enemies. His advisers and his friends had reminded him that House Maeve would have shown no less cruelty had the circumstances been reversed, but not even their rhetoric had been sufficient to convince him that they had done the right thing. No, his conscience bled regret, and the worst part about it, he had begrudgingly accepted, was that there was no turning back now.

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Tiyribi Andares
November 17, 2013 09: 18

The public demonizing of her husband, his reputation, and his people had cut her to the very soul when it had filtered to her eyes and ears. Her expression turned crestfallen, and her fingers tightened slightly around his as she saw much the same pain in her beloved's look too. Everything he was and had worked for and had become was wiped away in that single stroke of prejudice-fueled hatred, and it was frightening to see just how quickly the world had believed it. She, though, never had. He was still the man she had fallen in love with all those years before on that snowy evening in Pledonia, and the eras of their marriage had just served to deepen that same affectionate knowledge.

Yet it seemed that Tiyribi might have been alone in that belief even in this room now, and she saw clearly the guilt and self-condemnation written across her husband's features as he so pointedly avoided her gaze. She frowned, uncertain of exactly what to say. “Not much,” was all she settled for instead, realizing that he needed to tell her everything that had happened in Maeve no matter how little she wished to hear it. In truth, none of it mattered to her; the past was done, unfixable and untenable, while their future remained to be shaped. Nothing he could have done or said would alter the sentiments behind those sacred vows they had taken in the Faille Grove so many years before, and never would they shake her faith in the character of the man who she had chosen to share her life and children with, even if he didn't see himself with the same vision.

She listened then, patiently, as Faust began to describe the events of that dark night, and made no change in her expression. It had been war, she told herself, and all the bitterness and anger that it created made any action seem reasonable. She could well envision the city falling easily under the better-prepared and surprising force of Har'oloth, particularly as she had seen the results of such in the utterly shattered confidences and devastated visages of the Nlaeve remaining in Daltina. A great figurehead of their strength had been destroyed, she had divined, and now she had fact to put behind assumption.

Her fingers curled around his as he mentioned his anger, and her mind was drawn back once more to the series of conversations in Primus Gaudeo that had all led to this. There were a thousand things she wished she had done differently, a hundred different choices that she would have rather made and avoided the decades of cascading consequences that had brought them to this juncture now. As much as she wanted to ignore the past, to pretend like it was better left forgotten and didn't matter now that they were reunited, Tiyribi knew that they couldn't—not so long as her husband's soul was so wracked with guilt and shame that seemed so foreign to the usual confident, assured man she knew.

For one of the first times since their marriage, she wasn't sure what to do to comfort her husband. That he needed some sort of assurance and forgiveness was obvious, but she also recognized that such things would be useless coming from her. He accused himself far more strongly than any other mortalvoice on the face of Telath; only he could, in turn, release himself from paying the emotional penance for crimes attributed to himself. "Oh, my love,” she said softly, pressing her other hand gently over his as well to offer what comfort it could.

“You were protecting your family, as you told me before.” The sentiment behind her words was completely sincere. Her eyes dipped slightly to try to catch sight of his after it was said. Months before she had gone to Daltina believing that the matter could be dealt with reasonably and thus prevent all of this from occurring. It hadn't though, and there had been a battle, and blood had been shed—and yet at the end of it all, their family was reunited and together. Everything that she had feared would happen had not, and now Tiyribi was left to wonder if any of her preconceived notions had been worth entertaining after all.

Both knew all too well that this wouldn't be the end. The Maevewood Legion had survived and it was now moving, and it was just a matter of time before the next piece would slide across the chessboard. Tiyribi stifled most of a sigh, and then let her gaze wander tellingly between her husband and their infant daughter. “You were protecting us, Faust, and everyone who relies on you, just like you always have.” How she wished that her will was enough to convince him of that particular sentiment.

"Do you remember," Tiyribi began softly, “how you told me that I didn't understand what it was like to be a Vysstichi?” There was slight trepidation in her voice, as returning to the memories of that most heated conversation between them was not done out of fondness. Still, it had cost him to confess to her the things that he had, and she had to be as equally honest with him in kind. “You were right; I didn't, and perhaps in so many ways I still don't. But this is our family, and it seems that the world is intent upon punishing us for that fact. I don't know how else to keep it at bay.”

She drew closer to him then, still searching with her eyes to meet his. “You are still my husband,” Tiyribi insisted, “and nothing will ever change that. I do not for one moment believe you are anything but the man that I married. You must believe that, love.”

 

[Tiyribi Andares Kitrye'veresi]

Faust Kitrye'veresi
December 28, 2013 09:42 AM

Only comfort borne from many years of marriage enabled him to lift his timid gaze from the table. In his wife's amethyst eyes he saw no censure, yet in their reflection he observed a man who had allowed guilt and remorse to chip away at his soul like a chisel against stone. And how could he not? Faust Kitrye'veresi, once hailed as a defender of the weak, had preyed upon the innocent like the very monsters he had spent decades denouncing. What's more, he had unleashed hell itself upon the city of Maeve, using the Black Legion as his mode of destruction and thereby tarnishing its name as much as his own.

Sometimes he wondered what some of his friends might say. Would Aerienne Sarista, the benevolent Ancient Aelyrian who had shared her home and hearth with him, have sanctioned his decision? How would dear Fiabeth look at him now? His ebon hands filled with the fabric of his pants as he clenched his fists beneath the dining table. One day, his daughter would learn of his egregious behavior, be it in the form of literary works or songs crafted by the bards. What would she say, he wondered.

With a heavy sigh that did little to unshoulder the sorrow that he carried, he listened quietly to the voice of reason, one that he had and always would associate with his wife's. How he loved her for her concern for him, for her ability to see past his flaws and root for the man that he always
strove to be. Even in failure, she found ways to understand him, to accept his shortcomings notwithstanding their implications on his soul. There was nothing more that he could have asked from her.

His eyes widened slightly as she referenced the dialogue, and particularly the acidic question that he had posed to her, that had led to his conduct in Daltina — the event that had triggered the entire feud with the ancient ducal family. The memory was not recalled with any bit of fondness, but the words that accompanied it did cause him to find some shelter in their logic. It would take him some time, he knew, to determine whether they would be enough to allow him to forgive himself, but there was one truth that he would never deny.

“Thank you, Tiyribi,” he quietly said, lifting a hand atop her own. It was clear from his sullen tone that he had much soul searching left to do, but the half-smile that he sent towards her was his assurance that he would find a way. “I don't think I could do this without you.” As she drew closer to him, he sank into the warmth of her arms, his eyes closing in exhaustion as he reveled in her touch.

“It's good to have you home,” he whispered in the silence of quietly-burning hearth. And truly, home had never felt more like home than it did now.