Hi! After much work, I'm finally publishing my second story! I want to take this time to thank those of you who have sent me messages pertaining to this sequel, and its belatedness. Your kind words and dedication are such an inspiration to keep writing. Thank you so much. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this published. Within a month, I graduated from undergrad., moved to a different state, and was married. Phew! Now that everything has settled down a bit, I can pick up my writing again.

***IMPORTANT****

This story is a sequel from my first, Treason. However, I have tried to make it a stand alone for those of you who do not wish to read my first story; though its highly recommended. If you haven't read my first story, this one is a spoiler for it.

For those of you who have read, Treason, this story is structured a bit differently. I received multiple requests for different plots, so I'm trying to incorporate a couple of them in this story. While it's set up differently from my first, my editor assures me the story is equally as good.

Thanks again guys!

"Five minutes till roll call!"

The bunkroom of bustling soldiers increased their pacing's, the lieutenant's yelling voice echoing through the large room. The men moved through the barrack in a hurried speed; strapping weapons on their backs or securing armor to their frames in preparation for the day. Majority of the soldiers making up the bunkroom were young, their eager yet tired faces ready for the day of training with the battalion. Laughing and talking filled the large room, the soldiers looking forward to the day of physical exercises ahead of them. They had been informed the night before that the day would consist of conditioning, implemented with aspects of dueling different classes. Having not been deployed for over eight months, the commanding officer wanted to keep the company warmed up and battle ready at all times; regardless if it required redundant drills and practices.

Turning off the taps, Deimos Ares'mar shook his head to rid the water soaking his short blonde hair. The cold shower was nothing new to the blood elf; he was rather used to being the last in the bathing area. Though he was one of the first soldiers awake, the young elf slipped out of the barracks to meditate in peace in Elwynn Forest. It wasn't that he struggled with falling into trance in the bunkroom, but after countless ridicules and mockery, the paladin had finally given up. Living in the Alliance barrack for almost four months, the elf had gotten quite used to the mocking and harassment. Being the only blood elf and once-Horde soldier, Deimos naturally assumed there would be several issues with his presence in the bunkroom. However, he also assumed it would pass with time. Sighing to himself, the young elf leaned over the half wall enclosing the shower to retrieve a waiting white towel.

It had been eight months since he overheard the trolls planning the assassination on the blood elf's leader, after which he was captured and brought back to Stormwind. Living with a commanding officer of the Alliance, the blood elf gained the respect of the king by saving his life during a raid on the city by the Horde. He was allowed to return to Silvermoon City to warn his people about the Horde's betrayal, after which his race dissimilated from the faction. It was five months ago that the blood elf returned to the human city, a letter from his leader addressed to King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind; discussing the Sin'dorei's interest in joining the Alliance. Deimos had been declared the ambassador from the blood elves, the king welcoming the young elf into the city. Wanting to continue being a soldier, the paladin had joined Warren Steele's, his host while on city arrest, battalion; moving out of the man's house and into the barracks with the rest of the soldiers. Correspondence between the Sin'dorei and the Alliance had been conducted via letters, discussions and negotiations being kept to a minimum for security purposes. However, word had spread that the blood elves were en route to Stormwind for further deliberations.

Drying himself off, Deimos wrapped the towel around his hips as he watched the hoards of human males make their way towards the twin wooden doors at the front of bunkroom. They moved with excitement, adrenaline pumping through their blood at the prospect of the day. Though he lived with the humans for months, the young elf still found the race revolting in their cleanliness. Being in a large group of only men added to the disgusting habits; contrasting sharply with the Sin'dorei's neat and sanitary lifestyle. Shaking his head as he watched half the humans leave the bunkroom without showering, Deimos found the race's behavior sordid.

Taking a deep sigh, the young paladin knew he didn't have much time to dress and garb himself in his plate armor for the upcoming drills. Several minutes had already passed since the officer had announced the countdown till roll call; the pace in the room increasing with fear of having the commanding officer's scorn at being late. Testing the tightness of the towel around his waist, Deimos moved out from the shower towards his bed.

He was thankful to have gotten a bottom bunk; the thought of having to sleep with a human below him was rather uncomfortable. His white blanket was already pulled taunt around the thin mattress resting on the iron bunk frame; a white pillow resting at the head of the bed. His unnatural green eyes furiously scanning the neat bed, Deimos felt his blood boil. He had set out his clothes prior to showering; the missing garments from the bed making him shake in fury. Having had to deal with the human's hazings for several months, the young elf hoped his fellow soldiers would have either gotten tired of harassing him or, better yet, accepted him as part of the battalion. Unfortunately, it was evident that neither had occurred.

Feeling a hand clasp itself around his bare shoulder, Deimos turned annoyed and irritated eyes towards the new presence. A wide smiling young man looked back at him, amusement etched on his features. "Something the matter, Ares'mar? Better get going before you're late."

Gritting his teeth at the human in front of him, Deimos glared at the man. "You son of a-"

Laughing loudly at the angry retort coming from the elf, the man joined the throng of human's emptying out of the bunkroom; weapons strapped to their hips and backs. Feeling his fair cheeks flush with anger, the young elf turned his gaze back towards his bunk, as if willing the missing clothes to materialize out of sheer determination. Sighing to himself, the paladin crouched down to retrieve his chest full of a clothes and possessions under the bunk; figuring he would simply retrieve a different set of clothing. Slamming his closed fist on the stoned ground in rage, the young elf was rewarded with open space; his fellow soldiers had seized his trunk as well. Setting his jaw in anger, Deimos knew he didn't have to look for his armor and sword to know that those were also missing as well.

Smiling at the bright sun that began to spread its rays over the landscape, Warren Steele hoped the bright weather would lift the spirits of his company. Having not seen action in months, he knew the soldiers were getting restless; which almost always spelled disaster in the barracks and practice. Drills and duels became sloppy, their movements lethargic from the lack of exercise. However, the older man hoped the increase in duration on the practice fields would help remedy the problem. Readjusting the plate armor resting over his chest, the warrior moved under a stoned archway towards the forested training grounds.

Though the day was being graced with the sun's light, the late fall wasn't kind to the citizens of Stormwind. The near freezing temperatures froze the morning dew to the blades of grass, frost covering most of the forest. Thankfully, the warrior knew the drills would be sufficient to keep the soldiers warm through the day; fully expecting to see members of his battalion shedding clothing despite the frigid temperatures. Grinning to himself, the warrior looked forward to the drills he had in mind for the company.

Reaching the open forested space, Warren glanced at the multiple lines of soldiers standing in wait for their commanding officer. A thick aisle was created in the middle of the area, rows of individuals on each side of the walkway facing it. A proud smile spreading across his face, the commander glanced at the two captains waiting patiently in the middle of the aisle before gazing at the nearly two hundred standing soldiers. Pets stood dutifully next to hunters, their eyes focused on their masters' face in wait for a command. Warlocks talked in hushed whispers to waiting minions, while warriors stood stoic faced.

Walking forward, all the attention was drawn to the older man making his way down the formed path. Immediately, the soldiers stood upright, their postures tensing and hands going up to their foreheads in a respectful salute. The waiting captain's gave a slight tilt of their heads at his presence, their faces blank and unreadable. Readjusting his sword resting on his hip, Warren allowed his eyes to scan the silent opening in the forest while he walked down the aisle. Taking in the uniformed stance of the soldiers, the commander felt his brows go together and a heavy sigh leave his lips at a lone individual in the front row.

Stopping his walking at the blood elf, Warren tilted his head in impatience at the boy. Arms defiantly crossed over his naked chest, the elf wore nothing save a towel wrapped around his hips, a golden earring in his left pointed ear, and a ruby pendant on a chain around his neck. His posture was leaned to one side, annoyance and infuriation seeping from his stance. His jaw was clenched in anger, his shoulders unable to hide the shivers that raked his body.

"Ares'mar," Warren began, sighing as rage filled green eyes met his inquisitive brown ones. "I'm interested to see how you plan on practicing in only a towel."

A quiet chuckle next to the elf caused both Warren and Deimos to whip their heads at the man standing beside the paladin. Matheus Williams, rogue and friend of the Sin'dorei, quickly turned the laugh into a cough, turning his head as he brought a hand up to conceal the mirth on his face. Gritting his teeth at the lack of support from his friend, the young elf turned his eyes back to the older man. "Maybe you should ask the bastards that stole my clothes."

"At least they gave him a towel this time," a voice behind the elf sounded. Snarling in anger at the comment and reminder of a previous hazing, the elf whipped around, his fist swinging through the air. Satisfied when he felt his punch connect with the priest's nose, Deimos prepared to unleash another fist before a strong hand grabbed is raised arm.

"That's enough!" Warren strong voice bellowed at the young elf, dropping his grasp on his upper arm. Deimos, anger and embarrassment causing his flaxen cheeks to burn, turned back to the older man. Readjusting the wrapped towel, the paladin shifted his weight from one foot to the other in an effort to return blood flow to his freezing bare feet.

Opening his mouth to address the elf, Warren distractedly noticed a young man run behind him, embarrassment and panic on his face. He gripped a polearm in one hand, the other arm supporting the shifting plate armor on his chest from his running. "Sorry I'm late, Commander Steele." The human boy paused, a smirk going across his face as he glanced at Deimos. "Looking good, Ares'mar."

Seeing red from the remark, Deimos took an aggressive step towards the laughing human; a firm hand placed itself on his chest to stop his advancement. Warren gave the angry elf a disapproving look before turning to regard the chuckling human. "One mile, Leanith. Now."

The boy gave a sigh at the punishment though the amusement and mirth never left his eyes. He eyed the furious elf once more, the smirk never faltering, his eyes seeming to attempt to send a hidden meaning to the elf. His eyes were darkened with mockery and amusement, making Deimos mutely wonder the underlying intent. A sly smile going across his face, the young man turned away from the elf as he commenced his mile run punishment.

His eyes roaming Deimos' body, Warren took in his crossed arms over his chest in an effort to maintain heat in the freezing air. His frame shook with shivers, a blue tint reaching his pursed lips. Running a tired hand over his face, this was not the way the man had planned the day of practice to begin. Turning to the patiently waiting captains, he addressed them with a firm voice. "Start the roll call and drills. I'll be back."

Satisfied when the second in commands gave a brisk nod of their heads, Warren gripped the young elf's upper arm to beckon him forward. "Let's go before you get sick."

Walking besides the shorter man down the makeshift aisle, Deimos gritted his teeth when catcalls and whistles erupted from the waiting soldiers. He kept his green eyes downcast, refusing to meet the stares boring into him, while the captains chastised the soldiers. Warren seemed to pick up on the elf's discomfort, increasing his pace out of the forested training grounds. Taking a turn into a stoned doorway to the large complex of barracks, the warrior spared a quick glance at the young elf. His eyes still focused on the floor, shame and embarrassment were etched on his fair face. Raising an eyebrow when Deimos sniffled as they entered the building, Warren gave a sigh. "Are you sick? Do you need to see a priest?"

Shaking his head, the young elf kept his gaze on the limestone ground in front of him. He gave a quick glance at the man as they passed other battalions' barracks, making their way through the passageways towards Warrens'. "No, I'll be fine."

"Deimos, I understand why you want to stay in the barracks but," Warren paused, hesitantly trying to select words. "It's not working out. The men aren't ready to accept you quite yet."

Swallowing hard, the paladin shook his head in disagreement, a small grin spreading across his features. "I'll be fine. Or are you that lonely at the house that you miss me?"

Shaking his head at the sarcastic comment, Warren had to admit to himself that after living with the elf for three months, he had gotten used to his presence. While he was initially thrilled at the prospect of Deimos moving out of his own home and into the barracks, the warrior soon began to regret it. The hazing to the paladin became progressively worse; starting with little pranks, like his sword being glued in its sheathe. However, the men had increased their vigor in the jokes; Deimos attending the drills naked or mana deprived from someone stealing his fel ore. "Move back to the house. We can try this arrangement later; once the men have gotten used to you."

Eyeing the man skeptically, Deimos gave a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

Sighing at the stubborn elf, Warren was satisfied when they reached the familiar oak doors leading to the barracks of the men in his company. While there were women in his battalion, they were housed in a separate part of the complex; ensuring the two genders didn't mix. Eyes roaming the barren bunkroom, the warrior was bombarded with memories of his own time in the barracks. While the soldiers played pranks and jokes on each other, they never crossed the delicate line that the men did with Deimos. Shaking his head as he watched the half naked elf approached his bed, Warren gave a small sigh of relief. Resting on top of the bunk was the paladin's plate armor and sword; a bundle of clothes resting on the side. At the foot of the bed was a wooden trunk, Deimos' name carved on the top.

Observing the young elf hesitantly lift up his possessions and inspect them, Warren watched as a confused and cautious look passed over Deimos' face. Dropping the clothes on the bed, the paladin slowly picked up the white pillow resting at the head of the bed, his eyes boring into the piece of bedding. Brows together in confusion at the boy's odd behavior, the older man took a step towards the elf.

Emitting a groan that sounded like a mix of a sob and an angered grunt, Deimos whipped the pillow to the stoned floor; turning his back on the object of his anger and the bewildered man. Eyebrows up in surprise and curiosity, Warren crouched down at the pillow on the ground. "Deimos, what's-"

Stopping midsentence, the warrior saw the reason for the elf's outburst. A translucent liquid stained the pillow, the consistency confirming the man's suspicions. Someone had gotten intimate on the young elf's bedding, the revolting evidence as clear as day. Standing up from his crouched position, the older man ran an irritated hand over his face, anger and disgust resonating off his body. "This has gone too far. I'll find out who-"

Whipping around to address the man, the young elf shook his head at the man furiously. A scarlet blush covered his cheeks, his face contorted in humiliation and horror at who defiled his pillow. "It doesn't matter, Warren. They won't admit it. They never do!"

"When is enough enough, Deimos? If you know they won't stop, then come home. This," the man gestured madly to the stained pillow. "is unacceptable; and I can only imagine what it'll escalate into."

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, the young elf gave a deep sigh as he kept his eyes trained on the floor; the blush on his face deepening from the man's words. Reluctantly nodding, the paladin turned his eyes towards his angry commanding officer; his voice coming out in a defeated whisper. "Fine. I'll pack up after training. You can expect me tonight."

Sighing in relief, the older man nodded. "Good. I haven't touched your room so moving back in shouldn't be an issue."

Unsure how or what to say with a response, the precarious situation causing the air around him to feel stiff and uncomfortable, Deimos simply gave a small yet brisk nod. Turning his head to the side in an effort to break eye contact with the older human, he eyed the long and broad sword lying delicately on the bed with feigned interest. The vile and repulsive act stirred many feelings in the young elf; anger, resentment, embarrassment, yet also confusion. While his predominant feelings were that of utmost rage, he couldn't help but feel a bit torn. Over his months of living in the human city, the paladin had fallen in love with Stormwind. Having gotten accustomed to the strange stares from the citizens, Deimos looked forward to weaving in and out of the mad crowds the trade district housed. He found great pleasure in swapping war stories with Matheus over drinks at the tavern. Though Warren often told him otherwise, he got small satisfaction when visiting the Park, stirring up arguments and century old wounds with the night elves. Though he missed Silvermoon City, the human capital had quickly become home for Deimos. While he was tempted to berate and harbor a grudge against the human race for the atrocity that the soldier committed against him, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"So then, I figured this is the end of the duel, right? The kid was mana deprived-"

"-I wouldn't have been if you didn't throw and smash my mana potion."

"Will you let me tell the story?"

"Can you tell it right?"

Clearing his throat loudly, Warren was quick to hide his smirk by stealing a sip out of his glass of bourbon. Reveling in the dark liquid that warmed his chest, the commander darted his eyes between the two bickering men sitting opposite the table from him. A goblet of fine wine resting in front of him, Deimos sent a heated yet mirthful glare at Matheus; who painted his face with a feigned look of confusion with too much ease. Keeping his word, Deimos had swiftly packed his meager belongings following the practice and drills. Using all of his self reserve to ignore the ridiculing and mocking words being yelled at him from the soldiers, the young elf hastily made his way to Warren's house. Sensing the paladin's tense and anxious presence, Warren was quick to suggest going to the tavern for drinks.

"Anyways," Matheus began again, sending a silencing glare Deimos' way, only to be responded with one of equal intensity. "So, I'm ready to finish it. Not a big deal though. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time I bested him, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last."

"Light! Can you just tell the damn story?"

"Can you wait patiently without wetting yourself, kid?" Smirking at the angry flush that visibly washed over the paladin's fair face, Matheus rolled his eyes. "Alright. So, I go in for the killing blow. And, BAM, I'm a foot tall and wandering around aimlessly. Look up to see what the hell happened, only to see Deimos standing over me – by the way, you're freakishly tall to penguins – and he's laughing."

Grinning ear to ear at the rogue's annoyance with the story, Warren raised his brows in surprise. "Who polymorphed you?"

"Who else? Lena. She's like his little keeper or something." Stopping to shrug his shoulders in quick thought, the rogue continued with a lighter tone to his voice. "I guess we should be happy that she even got the polymorph right. Remember last month with Talenop? Poor bastard was stuck a sheep for a week."

"Yeah but I think he liked it. He said he found the whole concept of grazing relaxing."

Nodding at Deimos' words, Matheus sent his look to Warren while setting his jaw in determination. "But anyways, the gnome interfered. Isn't that not allowed, or something?"

"Who won the duel?"

Narrowing his eyes in annoyance at his commander, Matheus didn't bother to hide the edge that overtook his voice. "It doesn't matter; the duel wasn't fair anymore. He had outside assistance, which in duels shouldn't be allowed."

Bringing his brows together in thought, Warren leaned forward on his elbows while rapidly contemplating the situation. "She finished her duel, Matheus. Whatever she wanted to do with her time after that was up to her."

Wearing a broad and haughty smile, Deimos clapped the irate and aggravated rogue on the shoulder. "I have this distant memory of someone telling me, 'Expect the unexpected', after being ambushed on a roof."

Slapping the blood elf's touch away with a mixture of annoyance and jollity, Matheus attempted to hold his incensed glare directed at the Sin'dorei with determination. However much he tried though, the cracked façade showed the mirthful expressions he truly harbored. "You smug-"

"So, I assume Deimos won?"

Ripping his gaze from the arrogant posture Deimos assumed, Matheus gave a small and beaten nod of his head. "While I was waddling around the forest, the kid chugged some water. But had that damned gnome not inferred, I would have been wiping the floor with him."

Silently snickering at the rogue's inability to admit defeat, Warren sipped the top of his drink in pleasure. Glancing around the tavern, the commander wasn't the least bit surprised at the company the establishment attracted. The Pig and Whistle Tavern, located in Old Town, was a usual haunt for both veterans of past wars and officers in need of the pleasures of alcohol. Being conveniently located by the command center, soldiers found great joy in both the stress relief of the drinks and the eye candy of the bar maidens. His eyes easily finding the one bar maiden that stole his heart, Warren felt his cheeks flush slightly when she turned to meet his stare.

"I hear the blood elves are coming to the city soon," Matheus began, oblivious to the commanders silent courting with the woman across the room. "I hope they bring some female soldiers."

Gripping the brushed silver goblet in one hand, Deimos gave a small grin while swirling the red liquid in thought. When he first came to the city he found the lack of delicate and aged wine disheartening and troubling. However, after speaking with the owner of the tavern and ensuring a small shipment of wine more of his caliber, Deimos became more at ease in the bar. "Even if they did come, you wouldn't stand a chance with them."

Crossing his arms over his chest with a lifted brow, Matheus leaned back in his seat with a smirk. "Is that a challenge, kid?"

Lifting the goblet to sip the remainder of the aged wine, Deimos rolled his eyes at the usual antics the rogue possessed. Having become close friends with the human, the young elf was quite accustomed to his womanizing and wanton ways. Not the least bit experienced in the art of women himself, mostly due to his tender age of twenty years, Deimos found Matheus' actions amusing. "Sin'dorei society isn't the same in regards to…sexuality as human society is." Pausing to contemplate his words, the young elf couldn't stop the half grin that grew on his face. "You would be stigmatized in our culture."

Snorting incredulously at the insult, Matheus narrowed his eyes at the paladin sitting beside him with a mixture of malice and curiosity. "So, there's no lying with women in Silvermoon, is that what you're saying?"

Glancing over at Warren in hopes of seeing some sort of assistance or aid in an explanation, Deimos knew he was damned at soloing the discussion with the blank face that stared back at him. "Well, intimacy is typically reserved for either a married couple, or one that's engaged to marry. It's not considered…suitable to become intimate while courting a woman."

Shaking his head at the words in disbelief, the rogue allowed a small snicker to pass through his lips. "No wonder you're so inexperienced."

"So," Warren began while leaning forward, his brows scrunched together in curiosity and interest, "even with the destruction of Silvermoon and the Sin'dorei nearly being wiped out, your culture didn't see an increase in intimacy? At least for the purpose of reproduction?"

Giving a shrug of his shoulders and a grin spreading on his face, Deimos gazed into the empty goblet resting in front of him. "I'm not really the right person to be answering that. I was born two years after the attack; conceived and born a blood elf."

"Well at any rate, if there are any female blood elves, we'll see how much they can resist my charm. Cultural norms or not," Matheus stated, leaning back in his chair with a grin.

Shaking his head at the response, Deimos knew that as much as Matheus wished and longed for a female Sin'dorei, the young blood elf highly doubted any would step foot into Stormwind. While women were seen taking up arms in the military, their services were typically reserved for less demanding tasks. His old company in Silvermoon consisting of several females, Deimos was comfortable with fighting beside the opposite sex. The commander of the battalion, his father, also harbored similar thoughts and feelings; not allowing discrimination to dictate his decision at stationing the women on the front lines. While other commanding officers found the battalion's ways strange and peculiar, the sheer amount of victories and progression by the company quelled all criticisms.

His gaze locked on the aged and worn goblet resting on the warped table, Deimos didn't pay any heed to the buzzing conversations taking place around him. Though his elvish hearing was more than proficient at picking up the voices and sounds around the room, his mind was dominated by other thoughts. It was true that an envoy of blood elves were making their way to the human capital. At first word, the paladin didn't give it much thought. That was nearly two weeks ago. As the day grew closer that his race would enter the city for the milestone meeting of the merging of forces, the young elf felt both apprehension yet excitement overcome his being. Seeing his own people, regardless of the monotonous and boring political figures that would undoubtly come, would put a sense of comfort in his mind. He also felt confident that at least Lor'themar would be present. Having been raised around the Regent-Lord, the paladin felt a small amount of anticipation at seeing a familiar face. Even if the leader for the blood elves didn't make an appearance, the young elf would gain some sort of comfort from seeing other Sin'dorei; regardless of their time together being short and brief.

"I've got a meeting tomorrow at 0800. Do you have training?"

Following Warren through the wooded front door to the dwelling, Deimos unthinkingly shut the door with a swing of his hand. Stepping into the foyer of the house he called home, the paladin felt his body slightly relax at the ambiance and environment the abode emitted. Having been given the task of repairing and fixing several elements in the house months ago, the Sin'dorei had taken it upon himself to redecorate and revamp the house in a more fitting fashion. Hiring several hands to speed up the process, Deimos gutted the house out, only to replace the furnishings with those of the blood elves. The arcane chandeliers were nearly identical to those found in his previous home in Silvermoon, the white couches made of the same quality, and the tiled floor constructed of similar material. Unable to replicate the ramp used in Sin'dorei homes, the paladin was forced to keep the wooden stairs untouched.

Dropping his broad sword on the waiting table in the entrance, resting the weapon beside Warren's, Deimos followed the commander up the stairs. "No, not tomorrow."

Pausing for a second at the short response, Warren was unable to determine if the lethargic tone was due to the intake of alcohol or tiredness. The time well past midnight, the commander was aware that the paladin had a trying day; the hazing from the soldiers in the battalion, a day of training, and moving back into the house. Glancing behind himself at Deimos, Warren took in his turned down face and slumped shoulders. "Are you tired or intoxicated?"

Snapping his head up at the question, the young elf felt a grin spread on his fatigued face. "Tired. C'mon, Old School, you've seen me drunk before. You know what to look for."

Shaking his head while he resumed his pace up the stairs towards his chambers, Warren couldn't help but think back to the memory of the Sin'dorei intoxicated. Their rapport was new and unstable; Deimos only recently moving in with the commander. After having a night out with Matheus, his first true meeting with the rogue, the paladin had become intoxicated much to Warren's dismay. The day that followed was less than pleasurable for both of them. "Yes, and unless you've learned how to hold your liquor, let's not repeat that."

Reaching the top of the stairs, Deimos glanced to the sides of him. The hallway housed four doors; three of which he was allowed entry. The far door on the left was Warren's bedroom, and deemed off limits to the paladin. A door in the middle of the hall consisted of the one bathroom the two had to share; much to both of their consternation and discomfort. Two doors at the right end of the hall held the study and Deimos' bedroom. Though the study was reserved for both of them, Warren rarely stepped foot inside the room. Deimos, however, found great satisfaction at having a quiet sanctuary to retreat to when reading.

Moving to the right while Warren mirrored the movement to the left, Deimos paused momentarily at his closed bedroom door. "Is there anything you want done tomorrow?"

The question taking him by surprise, the commander glanced over his shoulder with a shrug. "Not really. I suppose you can take a personal day."

Nodding at the response, Deimos turned the doorknob and entered his bedroom with a slight frown. Taking in his surroundings, the rounded Sin'dorei themed bed and arcane infused lights, the young elf heaved a deep sigh. Though he enjoyed being given the privilege of a day to himself, he was often found at a loss for what to fill his time with. Usually starting with an extended morning meditation, the young elf would wonder around the city, shop in the trade district or visit friends. However, he would be plagued with tedium and monotony before the sun would contemplate setting. More often than not, the paladin would end his personal day in the training grounds.

Pulling his shirt and boots off, carelessly leaving the articles in the middle of the room, the young elf moved to the meager sized closet nestled in the corner. Pushing back the silks that hung in the doorway in Sin'dorei fashion, Deimos retrieved the pair of night pants awaiting him. Leaving the enclosed space, the young elf paused in his actions to glance around the room. Ringing his hands around the netherweave cloth pants in his hands, the young Sin'dorei felt a profound emptiness in his chest. His eyes darting around the stucco walls adorned with golden accents, the purple rug resting over the tiled floor, and the fel crystal sitting the corner of the room, Deimos knew that the characteristics of the room was nearly identical to that of his old bedroom in Silvermoon. It harbored the same dramatic hues and tones of the blood elves, the bed made of same quality. Removing his leather pants only to be replaced with the loose cloth ones, the young elf made his way to the bed.

Pulling the netherweave comforter back, the young elf lay on his back, silently willing the vacant and empty feeling to pass by. Glancing at the window, he felt a deep sigh pass through his lips at the pane of glass that kept the outside world separate from the house. Though the room was decorated to bear resemblance to that of his preceding room, he knew the decorations were only a façade over the chamber. However much he tried, he couldn't will the room to be identical to his in Silvermoon; it simply wasn't. Turning over on his side, the young elf gave into defeat at trying to quell the unfilled feeling in his being. Instead, he would do what he normally did in the situation; give into sleep.

Laying still for several beats, his elvish hearing failed to pick up any noises of movement in the house. Instead, he was responded with stillness and silence. Assuming that Warren had retired to bed immediately, the young paladin felt the empty space in his being increase. Forcing his eyes to shut in a poor effort to induce sleep, he couldn't seem to stop his mind and hearing from straining. However much his senses vainly tried, he knew they wouldn't detect the sounds of movements and a presence in the house that had lulled him to sleep for years.