Nubeno Prince

AN: I decided to challenge myself and write 30 Day AU Challenge - you can always follow me on tumblr (partofforeverfiction) to get updates (I'll make some aesthetics for the challenge too, I'm so into it these days).

Day 1 is AU - Fantasy, so let me say a few words about it: for the fantasy prompt I decided to use a world I created for my orginal novel - lets just say it takes place in a world that was shattered by a catastrophe many years ago and it's now divided in two parts - the modern South (think about the Coruscant from Star Wars) and the damaged North, where magic is still a thing. People from the South have no idea anyone in the North survived (a huge amount of water ((an ocean)) is separating them), but the elves, dragon riders, fairies and sirens are still there and have enough of South's ways. There are these people called Rangers and they want to bring balance back, challenging the High Council from the South. Harry is from the South and in turn of events he's now a Ranger in training, whilst Tom is from the North and an elvish prince (bear with me).

"That's not how you're supposed to hold a bow," Harry heard someone say behind his back and he sighted internally. Externally he tried to smile, though he was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace of despise. He truly had enough of Tom Riddle's so called advice.

Sure, Tom was a Ranger far longer than Harry was; truthfully, though they were both still in training, Harry came to the Headquarters only a week ago and it seemed Tom lived there for years. It was obvious he was more competent and knew how to hold a fucking bow properly, being an elvish prince or whoever he was. Tom was from the far North, a long way from the Headquarters. Harry has heard the word Nubeno a few times during meals, but he had no idea what it could mean. In the South they weren't studying northern geography. Well, they weren't studying anything about the North and for years Harry was sure that after Day One life pretty much vanished from anywhere above The Far Island.

Tom was probably trying to help, but Harry had enough of it. Seriously, who was using a bow these days? Where they really supposed to fight someone from the South with bows and arrows? Maybe the Rangers knew nothing about the South, but Harry was driving a brand new Sagitt-713 only a few weeks ago and it was obvious no arrow could pierce through it. And Sagitts were commoners' transportation, not something military would use! Were the Rangers really that stupid?

"Let me show you," Tom said with a smile, showing off his even teeth; he had no fangs, just like every other elf Harry's met in the Headquarters so far. Harry supposed it was in exchange for the pointy ears. He tried to put down his bow, but Tom didn't let him, instead standing behind his back and adjusting his hands properly.

Sweet Elish – Harry noticed with some surpise that he started using the Northerners' saying – Tom was doing it again. It seemed everyone in here was so enthusiastic about touching and Harry felt rather uneasy about it. In the South it was unthinkable for strangers to behave like this: touch each others hair, hug for no apparent reason or even casually sleep in the same bed, as if it was no big deal. After a blonde boy called Draco – such a proper name for someone from a family of dragon riders – tried to sneak into Harry's bed and he made an awful scene, everyone seemed to stop a bit with the affection sharing, probably trying to give him some time to accommodate. Everyone, but Tom.

It was rather obvious even the older Rangers held some respect for Tom. Was it because of his heritage or talents? Harry had no idea. It might have been because of his looks too. Whatever charms he did possess, no one dared to stop his attempts to invade Harry's safety zone.

Tom's hand was warm and his touch wasn't exactly unpleasant, but after years of living in such a reserved society, it was weird to be touched and to... feel things. Harry was brough up thinking that one day he may find someone he'll like enough to spend the rest of his life with, but no one told him about these feelings. He was pretty sure his parents had no idea about these things; they were friends, a perfect married couple and they loved each other for sure, but neither them nor anyone else Harry knew acted the way people acted here. Being affectionate wasn't a thing in the South.

Harry was in the North now though and it seemed he was slowly catching up on everything he missed in the past.

Tom was doing something to him. The way he simply looked at him over the table yesterday, it made Harry shiver, though he had no idea why. He wasn't afraid of Tom. Well, maybe he was slightly frightened by the feelings Tom awoke in him, but was there really anything to be scared about?

Tom was leaning against his back now - of course he had to be taller than him, stupid elvish prince - explaining once again why Harry's bow wasn't working the way it should, but Harry couldn't quite catch the words. Tom's scent was intoxicating, he's noticed it before in the library, when they were studying the northern maps together. He smelled like... What was it? Words couldn't describe it adequately, but Harry thought it was something like a silent starry night or maybe a beautiful sunrise somewhere in the open air, if such things had a smell of course.

Something tickled Harry's ear. Tom was still talking, now positoning Harry's hands on the bow. A weird thought about how nice it would be to touch Tom's pointy ears entered Harry's head and he could barely hold back his laughter.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tom's voice sounded muted, as if it was coming from far away. Suddenly Harry felt rather dumb for letting his thoughts wander so aimlessly. "You're never going to shoot a straight arrow if you keep thinking about my ears."

"What do you... You can read my thoughts?!" Harry jumped away almost unconciously with a wild look in his eyes.

"Can you not?" It was Tom's turn to be surprised. "I thought everyone here can..." In a brief moment Tom's face changed from amused to shocked. "I'm so sorry! I thought... I was sure you wanted me to hear it... You were so loud and... well, explicit... about the way you felt about me... Usually we just keep thoughts to ourselves and you didn't, so it felt like an invitation... I'm... I'm so sorry, I should have known you were unaware... Can we... Can we start again?"

"I... I have to think about it," Harry answered truthfully. He was still shocked after what just happened. Did he really think about that pointy-eared guy so intensively? Well, he might have give him a few lazy thoughts in the evening, thinking how much Tom was getting on his nerves with the bow thing... Or maybe during dinners, when that weird light was shining in his eyes so magically – there was a saying his grandmother used to repeat in her last days: The old stars may be gone in the skies, but they still shine in the elvish eyes... Harry didn't understand it then; the old stars and elves were both gone, weren't they? The whole old world, the world of dragons and underwater kingdoms, castles in the skies and magicians, it was all gone long before he or his ancestors were born.

Yet he was standing in front of an elf, a prince!

Trying not to look at Tom, Harry left the training ground hastily. He needed to be alone. He had to think without strangers invading his head.

"I'll wait," Harry's heard an apologetic voice, but he didn't dare to look back.

…

Tom kept his promise and stopped bothering Harry. To be precise, he kept an unnatural distance. When everyone else seemed to get closer and closer to Harry with every passing day, slowly learning to interact with the strange southern boy, Tom stayed away, almost impassive.

Deep down Harry knew it was fake, an act to make him think Tom let him go. Now that ke knew he could read minds, it was easier to tell people's intentions. Well, Tom's intentions. Everyone else was hard to read and Harry could only get small things from their heads: emotions, scraps of words, detached images... He stopped doing it after a few days, knowing well enough it was so wrong to try to get to know another person's most personal feelings.

Tom thoughs though... It seemed he wanted Harry to hear it, feel it. Harry knew now Tom was sorry, that he deeply regreted his actions... But there was somehing else, an image Harry couldn't quite understand. It looked like a yew tree, tall and strong, Tom sitting under it. A green bush he just planted was growing beside it, small red fruits between its leaves...

…

"Tell me," Harry decided to break the silence between them after a week that felt like forever. "The yew, what's it all about?"

"How do you? ..."

"It was impossible not to see it," Harry snaped, sitting down on the bench under a blooming apple-tree. When there was nothing to do, Tom was always sitting there reading one of his ancient - and probably boring - books. "I don't know what your problem is, but you can tell me or please kindly back away from my head."

"Well, well, when did you become so bold?" Tom tried to laugh and his ears twiched as if they were living their own life. Harry gave his companion a stern look. "All right... No need to be angry... I have to appreaciate the moment, right? Who knows when you'll be kind enough to talk to me again." Harry tried to say something, but Tom didn't let him: "The yew tree... I made my first bow from it. They say yew stands for immortality, but no one knows better than me that nothing is immortal, not even the elves."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. It felt like Tom was drifting apart, thinking about something Harry didn't understand.

"What about the holly?" He wasn't interested in the holly that much, but if the question could help him get Tom out of the grim place he was visibly heading to, he had to try at least. "There was a holly near the yew."

"Your bow is made of it," Tom answered absently, loooking in the distance. "It burned down like everything else in Nubeno."

"Nubeno?" The familiar yet unknown word awoken Harry's interest. Maybe it was his only chance to learn something about the mysterious past of the North. "Is that your kingdom?"

"It was," Tom corrected him bitterly, still not looking at him. His eyes were shining again, as if remembering the gone world awoke some mystical power in the elvish prince. "What the High Council calls Day One was the last day of my world." For a moment they were silent. A stray butterfly sat on Harry's palm and spread its wings, showing them the heavenly blue pattern. "I was..." Tom began hesitantly, taking a deep breath, "I was still a kid back then, the youngest of my family. No one could suspect I'd be the last. That day... Everyone was gone... My parents... Eitherael and Eithel, though we all though they were invincible... Even Leinal - we were celebrating his safe return from Shagreen that day... They wouldn't spare me if he didn't hide me so well, he was the most skilled in illusion..."

Harry didn't know what to say. Now that he knew something about Tom's past, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know more. He felt helpless all of a sudden. What could he, a southerner with no powers, no knowledge, someone not capable of shooting an arrow, do?

In the end Harry raised his hand - the butterfly flew away rather offended - and squeezed Tom's palm lightly. He wasn't sure if it was a proper thing to do; everything was so new, even Tom's skin felt different this time. What was this feeling? He wanted to help Tom, to protect him somehow, though he had no idea how.

"Tom... Can you tell me, who are they?" Harry asked in the end, the question not giving him rest. "The people who attacked Nubeno?"

"Aertho Furstenberg, Britta Newen, Roghert Inglenot." The three names sounded foreign in Tom's mouth, though Harry knew them all too well.

"The High Council?" He asked in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I was living in the South for years and nothing like that..." … happened, Harry wanted to finish, but then the memory of Neville's sudden dissaperance came to his mind. And what were his parents saying about Mr Weasley, the one from the antique shop? Wasn't he taken away in the middle of the night? "Is that why you're here?" Harry began hesitantly. "To... challenge them?"

Finally Tom looked up at him. The light in his eyes was no longer beautiful – it was eerie, almost frightening, as if the old stars were burning in him desperately for one last time. His grip on Harry's hand tightened dangeroulsly.

"Challenge?" Tom sounded weirdly amused. "No, Harry, I'm here to take my revenge."

AN: Well, it was just a quick story, because I need to make myself write again. Of course comments are appreciated, thanks in advance!