A/N/: Hello everyone! Haha. So here it is; my first ever multi-chapter BMT fic. Hopefully the start won't weird you out or bore you. The first part is odd; the second part sort of sets the scene and fills you in on what sort of time this is set, and how the characters are all feeling etc. Hope you enjoy!

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Dancing bears,

Painted wings,

Things I almost…remember.

Sunlight pierced Lorlen's eyes. He blinked and opened them. He was standing in a long corridor, and the sunlight streamed in through tall windows in the left hand wall. Soft music was coming from a half open door at the far end of the corridor. It sounded like a music box, tinkling and melodious. The music filled him with a longing, an aching yearning to be near something. He followed the sound to the door and passed through it. He stood in a gloomy room, full of furniture covered in dust sheets. On one table, stood against the far wall, a collection of ornaments sat, the dust sheet pulled back. Beautiful plates and vases covered in gorgeous paintings glittered in the light reflected from a floor so highly polished it sparkled. Lorlen wandered over, trailing his fingers over the smooth surfaces.

The music sounded again, the same sweet tinkle of notes. He followed it through the next doorway into another long corridor. The music was louder here. The intense longing coursed through him, and he ran down the corridor out into a wide entrance hall. The ceiling flew away like a cathedral, and massive doors were closed tight, bordered by windows on either side. Opposite, two grand staircases ascended to the first floor. Between them a wide door was open to a magnificent ballroom. Lorlen heard the music, this time accompanied by a voice.

Dancing bears,

Painted wings,

Things I almost, remember,

He rushed up the left hand staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

And the song, someone sings,

Once, upon a December,

Another wide door stood at the top of the staircases. This led to a large balcony overlooking the ballroom. Two thrones had been built into the wall, facing the room, and a beautiful gilt framed picture of a family hung on the wall, taller than five men.

A single woman stood in the middle of the dance floor, spinning and singing softly, her red hair like a flame in the soft light.

Someone holds me safe and warm,

Horses prance through a silver storm,

Figures dancing gracefully,

Across, my memory…

As her voice faded, music swelled and ghostly figures began to appear, dancing silently. In seconds they were solid, dancing and twirling in the bright costumes of a court, ladies and gentlemen spinning and whirling.

Lorlen descended the steps. He caught the hand of a nearby lady and began to dance. He traded partners, trying to get to the woman in the centre, who was still singing.

Far away, long ago,

Burning dim as an ember,

Things my heart, used to know,

Things it longs to remember,

Spinning away from another woman, Lorlen found himself in the centre of a small circle. He turned to the woman, who was standing on the other side. She held out a hand. He crossed to her and took it, pulling her into a dance. They stepped lightly, slowly, while she softly sang;

And the song,

Someone sings…

She pulled away, still singing quietly, to kneel in a graceful, formal bow on the floor.

Once, upon a December…

She lifted her head, and Lorlen suddenly recognised her. "Vinara?" he asked quietly.

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Lorlen sat up in bed with a jolt. He breathed hard for a minute, and then relaxed back onto his pillows. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he checked his timepiece. Almost time to get up. What an odd dream he'd had. The grand palace, the dancing, the song, and then Vinara…

Weird, he thought, getting up to dress. He sighed as he opened the cupboard. Hanging inside were his new robes; white as snow, the incal of the High Lord sewn neatly onto each sleeve. He hadn't really wanted to be High Lord, but he understood the Guild's need to have someone they trusted irrevocably in the highest position of power, so he had accepted his promotion. He pulled the robes on and swept downstairs. His servant greeted him with a smile and warm breakfast, and he ate while reading a report that Osen had sent him about the city rebuilding. He smiled to himself. He had trained Osen well, and the young man was making an excellent start as Administrator.

Upon finishing his breakfast, he started towards the University. He should probably check in with Osen before his day of meetings started. He wasn't due in court for another two weeks, since most of the houses hadn't yet arrived back from the other Allied Lands.

Lush plant life surrounded him on his walk, the gardens having come into full bloom only a week ago. Six weeks since the battle, Lorlen thought, staring around him. And none of this was affected. Life still goes on. He caught sight of a flash of black through the foliage, and his chest constricted.

Akkarin.

Akkarin hadn't spoken to him since the Invasion. Technically, he hadn't spoken to anyone, but it still hurt. He didn't think he could understand; Akkarin had lost everything. Lorlen's heart still hurt to think of Sonea, giving her life so young to protect the city. And yet, somehow he resented her; leaving Akkarin behind, making him withdraw into himself. He knew it was stupid, but some part of him blamed her for making his friend this way.

Lorlen had tried to speak to him. All he'd got was a blank look and no words. Lorlen couldn't think of a way around the problem. He'd spoken to Akkarin as much as he could, in whatever free time he had, but there had been no reaction apart from his blank stares turning into angry glares. It had become obvious that Akkarin didn't want to talk and didn't want to be talked to. Lorlen had left him alone, stressing the need to get him to come out of his shell to Takan; the only other he thought may be able to convince Akkarin to speak. But Takan, ever loyal, had not pressed his master, and had simply sat with him and followed him wherever he went.

Lorlen peered through the trees. Akkarin was wandering aimlessly along a path, Takan trailing behind him. Lorlen's frustration at Takan rose again. How could he watch his master torture himself so and do nothing? He considered trying to talk to Akkarin again, but continued onwards instead. Akkarin had nothing to say to him, and until he came out of his silence on his own, it was almost sure that nothing Lorlen could say would convince him to speak.

Lorlen reached the University steps and began to climb. He felt a shiver of dread as he realised it was the start of the day for novices; all of them would be coming into classes, hanging around while they waited for their lessons to begin. He reached the top of the stairs and headed right, towards the door in the side wall which led to the Administrator's Office. A swarm of novices parted like a sea before him, a ripple of bows running through them. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help feeling self conscious. It wasn't as if people hadn't bowed to him when he was the Administrator; but when people, especially novices, bowed to the High Lord, they did it with a strange mix of awe and fear that he had never experienced before. He wondered if he'd ever get used to it.

He reached Osen's door with relief and knocked. The door swung open, and he entered with a smile. Osen didn't look up at his visitor, so intent was he on the papers in front of him. He simply made an 'mmm' noise with a tinge of what sounded like annoyance and motioned impatiently to his desk. When Lorlen didn't move, Osen huffed, "Perin, if I have to tell you again to take these letters to the courier I swear I'll…well I don't know what, but please do it."

Lorlen smirked. "Dear, I do hope I was never as rude to you as you are to your assistant, Osen."

Osen jumped almost halfway out of his chair in fright. He stared up at Lorlen with a mix of horror and embarrassment that made Lorlen laugh loudly. "Oh-Lorlen, I didn't- I mean, I don't-"

"It's fine Osen," Lorlen said, moving to sit in a chair. "I'm sure I was very short tempered at times. Being the Administrator is a hard job."

Osen shifted uncomfortably and didn't say anything. Lorlen sighed. "I'm beginning to see that Administrator is a job much harder than the High Lord's. That's probably why you're allowed to resign from your post, whereas I must keep mine forever…"

Osen looked concerned. "Do you regret taking the position?" he asked quietly.

Lorlen smiled. "No, no I don't. I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I watched you do it for long enough," Osen said with a cheeky smirk.

"Now, now Administrator, respect for your superior."

"Superior," Osen snorted. Lorlen raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at him and he hastily swallowed the rest of his clever remark. "What can I help you with today, High Lord?" he asked with mock sincerity.

"Nothing. I simply came to see how things were running. It can be incredibly boring, attending meetings. When you attend a meeting, you see, they expect you to participate, which means you will know something about whatever is being discussed. However, the High Lord is expected to attend meeting simply so whatever goes on is conducted underneath his eye, which is entirely dull for me. Magicians argue for hours on one topic or another and make meaningful comments referring to something I know nothing about, and I have no idea what they're talking about." He laughed suddenly, "That's probably why Akkarin never said anything; he never knew what meetings were about!"

Osen smiled, but didn't laugh. He could sense the pain behind his friend's words; he missed Akkarin, and blamed himself for not being able to bring him out of his stupid silence. Osen hated Akkarin for making Lorlen feel so guilty. His friend needed to feel confident and be able to focus on his job as High Lord. However much he tried to pass it off, being High Lord was a huge responsibility. Lorlen knew this, but his concern for his friend hampered his ability to fully focus, and even if he didn't realise it, Osen did. He needed to do something about it, and fast. The Administrator and High Lord were supposed to be an unbreakable team, working seamlessly together to ensure the Guild's continued prosperity. If Lorlen couldn't focus fully, they couldn't perform to the standard they were capable of, the full extent of which the Guild needed to continue to function in these difficult times.

Osen had considered sending Akkarin to the Healers; if his friend reacted to only talking about Akkarin in passing so badly, should he be more concerned about the issue? Osen took a deep breath. He would find out.

"Lorlen?"

"Mmmm?"

"Have you spoken to Akkarin recently?"

The pain on Lorlen's face was enough. "Something is wrong with him, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Osen." Lorlen's voice sounded constricted. "I've tried talking to him about everything, and tried anything else I can think of, but…"

Osen frowned. "It's not your fault, Lorlen," he said quietly. "Akkarin could be suffering from something serious, and he could need serious help."

Lorlen stared at Osen with pleading eyes. "He isn't ill, Osen," Lorlen said, but his voice lacked conviction; he seemed to be imploring Osen to confirm his statement. "He's just sad."

Osen shook his head. "You were a healer, Lorlen. You know something more is wrong with him. I promised Vinara I would send him to her if he got worse; I think he has." Osen leaned forward and stared into Lorlen's eyes, "He'll get better if he's helped, Lorlen. He just needs professional help."

Lorlen looked away, down at the floor. "Whatever you say," he whispered.

Osen frowned slightly. Lorlen was never this passive…Was something else wrong? Before he had a chance to ask, Lorlen rose to his feet. "Do whatever you deem necessary, Osen," he sighed quietly. "I have a meeting to attend. I will see you soon." Osen looked after him with concerned eyes. He knew putting Akkarin in the Healer's care would be the best option; but why did Lorlen feel against it?

Lorlen walked through the thankfully quiet corridor. He knew Osen would sense his conflict over Akkarin if he mentioned him. He also knew that Vinara and Osen were considering sending him to the Healers. So why on earth had he mentioned it? Maybe I wanted Osen to see, Lorlen thought. Perhaps I know, somewhere, that something is more wrong with Akkarin than he or I know how to fix. Perhaps I should admit that I am wrong and support Vinara and Osen in placing him in the Healer's care.

He shook his head, confused. There was no answer he could give himself. He supposed he would just have to trust Lady Vinara's judgement, when it came. If she believed Akkarin should be put under the Healer's supervision, then he wouldn't argue. She knew best, after all.

He furrowed his brow as he considered the strange dream he had woken up from. What was it about that that made him feel so strange? He had odd dreams all the time; everyone did. But why did this one feel so strange?

He reached the door of the first meeting and tried to shrug off his distraction. He was needed as the High Lord now; cold and calm, judging and superior. His heart ached to act towards others in this way, but it had to be done. Nothing else would satisfy the members of his Guild.

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A/N/: Most definitely will enjoy all types of feedback! Thank you for reading.