Home Coming
Returning home had been all that he hoped for.
Seized on the steps of what was left of the Stormcaller estate, Tavian was dragged like some prisoner of war through the halls. He now found himself down on his knees, head pushed forcibly almost to the floor. The guards held his shoulders tightly. He tried not to resist, though his rogue's instincts told him to wriggle away and find some dark corner to disappear into.
"Well, well, the prodigal son returns." Tavian tried to look up at the familiar, arrogant drawl, but found his head pushed down painfully once again. He grit his teeth. "What in all of Azeroth could have prompted you to return here, little brother?"
"I came," Tavian ground out, "for father's funeral."
"Ah, that's right. The old man did die. That makes me head of House Dorthonion. Did you think I would be a more lenient, that I would repeal his decision to bar you from the estate?"
Tavian stared stonily at the ground. "I had thought you might want to reunite the family, Zalmon. At least let me see Tashin before you throw me back to the Wretched."
Zalmon, who had been pacing lazily to and fro before Tavian stopped at this. "Tashin is ill," he growled. "First the Scourge, then mother's death, and now father's. His heart can hardly handle the strain. If you think for one moment that I would let you upset him further your wits have been as addled as your morals by your time in the gutter."
Now Tavian wrenched his head up, defiantly looking Zalmon in the eye for a long moment before the guards pushed his head back down. "Keeping him locked up in his bed isn't going to help Tashin get better! And keeping us apart is only making things worse for him! He needs to get strong again. I can help him do that, Zalmon!" He was nearly shouting at this point. The more he thought about Tashin the more desperate he was to see him. It had been over a year since his father found him dabbling in the skills of a rogue and banished him from the estate when he refused to study magic as was the family tradition. Over a year since he had seen his beloved twin. To be absent from him felt unnatural, and if it was difficult for Tavian to bear he could only imagine how much worse it was for his gentle, sensitive brother.
Zalmon grabbed a fistful of Tavian's hair now and wrenched his head up. Tavian winced as he met the severe gaze of his elder brother's pale, too-handsome face. "I will –not- let you upset him ever again. He is a good boy, and I won't have him falling along with you into the scum at your feet."
"You would rather destroy his soul with your dark magic? Do you think I don't know what you've become? You're not an arcanist, you're a warlock!" Tavian spat, twisting in the grasp of the guards. "Did father condone your descent into fel magic, or is his death the result of his discovery of your true nature?"
Zalmon curled his lip and released Tavian's hair so that he could reach his hand back to strike him squarely across the face. The force of the blow whipped Tavian's head to the side, and for a moment everything was bright stars behind his eyes and loud silence in his ears. Then slowly out of the silence he could hear his name.
"Tavian?" it came tentatively at first, and then insistent. "Tavian?! Tavian!" Slowly, wincing, Tavian turned his head towards the sound. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Tashin standing tentatively in the far doorway. He wore a gray silk robe, and it made his skin look terribly pale. His dark hair seemed dull, his frame too thin, but it was still gloriously, undeniably his beautiful, beloved brother.
"Tashin!" he cried, now trying to get away from the guards in earnest.
He heard Zalmon swear under his breath. "Get him out of here," he growled.
"Tashin!" his voice began to become plaintive as the guards hauled him back.
"Stop, stop! Where are you taking him?" Tashin cried as he ran across the hall. He was intercepted by Zalmon, whose imposing frame blocked his way. "Zal, please… please let me see him."
"Tavian is no longer welcome in our father's house. We must uphold our father's wishes, Tashin, even in light of his death," Zalmon said, putting his arm around his young brother.
"Tashin!" Tavian cried again, struggling with the guards, but unable to break free. "I love you! I miss you! I… I…" he didn't know what else to say. He was ashamed to realize he was crying and tried to hide his face even as he struggled to break free and reach his twin.
Suddenly the great doors burst open. "What in the hells is all this racket about?!" a woman's voice, loud and commanding echoed through the hall. Everyone, even the guards froze, as a tall, comely woman with thick auburn hair came into the hall covered head to toe in soot smudges, her dress ripped and burned away in places, revealing quite a lot of skin. She took one look at Zalmon and began stalking across the hall towards him. "Husband, darling," the words dripped from her lips like acid, "I believe I asked the household for quite this afternoon. Not only is it rather in bad taste for a house in mourning to be so raucous, but I have been practicing some rather difficult spells that involve fire. In the last five minutes I have been so distracted by all the noise that I turned one of my servant girls into a sheep and lit myself on fire."
Tavian could not help but raise an eyebrow. Husband? When had Zalmon taken a wife? And how had his miserable self convinced such a beauty to marry him? Tavian quickly realized it wasn't important. Her appearance had supplied him with the perfect distraction. All eyes had turned on the woman and he took advantage of it. Tavian wrenched himself forward, kicking one guard in the shin and landing his elbow in the solar plexus of the other. At the same moment, as Zalmon readied himself to reply sharply to his wife, Tashin slid out of his grasp and soon the twins were racing for each other, meeting in a fierce embrace and a combined cry of wordless joy.
"Tave… Tave," Tashin was practically sobbing. "I've been so worried about you. Zalmon kept saying that the Wretched had most likely eaten your life force and turned you into one of them."
"Zalmon is a ridiculous oaf," Tavian hissed in return. He felt Tashin starting to sag in his arms and let the weight of his body pull them both down to their knees. He pressed their foreheads together. They gazed at each other lovingly, tenderly touching one another's face.
The whole display made everyone in the room, including the guards, just slightly uncomfortable. It was Sorawen who finally leaned over to her husband and whispered, "Are they going to kiss?"
Zalmon scowled even more. "Don't be lewd."
Sorawen smirked. "I just know how vain you Stormcaller men are. If you ran into a copy of yourself I'm sure you'd be instantly in lust."
Zalmon raised an eyebrow, an expression coming over his face that suggested he finally saw something in a different light. "I suppose you're right. I never thought about it that way, dear heart."
Sorawen sighed. "I take it this is the return of your other little brother. I have to say he looks about 100 times better than Tash. I do hope he does some good for the poor boy."
"He's not returned, and I have no intention of letting him have anything to do with Tashin," Zalmon growled.
Sorawen arched in immaculate eyebrow. "You'd wrench them apart again? From the looks of it that really might just kill Tashin."
Zalmon scowled. "Why do you think I never wanted Tavian to come back here in the first place?"
Tashin clung onto Tavian. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, and took deep breaths of air, trying to calm himself. The pounding of his heart was becoming painful and the younger twin pressed his hand over his heart suddenly finding it hard to breath. "T-tave…" he gasped.
"Tash?" Tavian asked. "Tashin, what's wrong?"
"He's having a spell, you idiot, what do you think is wrong? Are you happy now?!" Zalmon bit out, walking swiftly to their sides. "You're presence is doing this to him."
Tavian scowled at Zalmon, holding Tashin close. "Only because you kept us apart for so long, and he knows you'll try to tear us apart again," he spat, reaching into his jerkin with one hand.
"Give him to me," Zalmon said.
"Not on your life," Tavian replied, curling his lip. He produced a vial with a purplish liquid in it from his shirt, and expertly popped the stopper in it with his thumb. "Tash," he said softly, "I want you to drink this. It will make you feel better."
"He's not drinking anything that hasn't been approved by the house physicians!" Zalmon snarled, making a grab for the vial, but Tashin had already pulled it to his lips. Tavian couldn't help but smile at the defiant glint in his beloved brother's eye as he swallowed the elixir down to the last drop. He took a startled breath, as if surprised that he could actually breathe again. He looked at Tavian as his breath steadily evened out and his heart rhythm calmed to normal.
"What was that?" he asked, looking at the vial in his hand. "I feel… better than I have in weeks." He smiled tentatively at Tavian.
Tavian grinned rather proudly. "I've been learning alchemy. I worked for some time on that elixir, but be careful… it contains Bloodthistle. The herb contains amazing properties, but can also be very addictive."
"Are you trying to turn him into a slip-head?" Zalmon snarled.
"No," Tavian snapped. "I'm trying to make him better, not keep him bed ridden and dependent for the rest of his life because the 'house physicians' are too scared to try any real treatments lest they make a mistake and you have their families executed."
"Stop it!" Tashin cried. "Please, stop yelling at each other. Brothers, please…" he looked around plaintively his eyes falling on Sorawen. "Sora, do something about them."
She rolled her eyes, coming to stand by the group of them. Tavian could not help but look up at her and notice how truly beautiful she was. He smirked slyly. Zalmon's wife, eh? "What am I supposed to do?" she asked in exasperation. She waggled her finger at Zalmon. "Stop being a pig. See? It didn't work, he's still a pig."
"Sora…" Tashin said plaintively, but Tavian burst out laughing, he couldn't help himself. He was sure he was falling more and more in love with Zalmon's wife by the moment.
"And as for you," she pointed a long finger at Tavian. "You are filthy. You're not going to be seen in this household at your father's funeral looking like street trash." At that moment she seemed to realize how she herself appeared and with a tsk conjured herself into a fresh gown.
"He's not going to be seen in this household or at father's funeral at all!" Zalmon fumed.
Sorawen arched an eyebrow, and reached up to touch Zalmon's cheek, wiping a large swatch of soot across it. "Really? I think it's rather in bad taste not to have both of your brother's there. After all this is a time of rebuilding, how benevolent you will seem when you open your arms to your wayward little brother in this tragic time of reconstruction," she said with the fluidity of a born orator. "Besides… if I remember correctly you are still borrowing money from my father to rebuild the estate. And until such time as those debts are paid off, I think it is safe to say that I have just a bit more to say about what happens in these walls than you, dear husband," this was said with the grace of a politician.
Zalmon stared at her stonily, and then finally sighed. "For now and for Tashin's sake alone will I allow you to stay within these walls unmolested. But even the faintest whisper of trouble from you and I will toss you back to the Wretched."
Tavian had gotten to his feet, pulling Tashin up beside him. He wanted to do nothing more than be near to his twin, but once again Sorawen summoned him with a crooked finger.
"Come with me, Tavian," she said. He looked over at Tashin and before he could stop himself he kissed him quickly on the lips, taking only the tiniest moment to enjoy the startled look on Tashin's flushed face, and then followed after Sorawen with a smirk at Zalmon.
They walked in silence as she led the way through several hallways which were under construction and up a looping ramp to the second floor. Tavian knew the estate like the back of his hand and knew she was leading him towards the guest quarters.
"I'm surprised you even know who I am," he said at some length.
"How could I not? Tashin talks about you all the time," she answered shortly.
"Ah. I guess I'm just surprised since I had not received word that Zalmon had married."
Sorawen glanced over her shoulder with a look that said she did not appreciate Tavian fishing for information, but she spoke on anyway. "Yes, well it all happened rather quickly. House Dorthonion needed money, House Saralonde had lots of it, seeing as the estate was built outside the city, but needed some higher class connections… not to mention some way of keeping their headstrong daughter out of trouble. Obviously a match made in political heaven."
"So you do not love my brother?" Tavian said, moving closer to her.
"What's to love? Other than his face of course. I don't suppose I could have asked for a more attractive husband, but self-centered arrogance tends to cool that fire after a bit."
Tavian put his hands on her hips, turning her around, sliding his hand suggestively to the small of her back. "I have a feeling your fire is anything but cool, lady Sorawen."
She returned his sultry gaze and he smirked as he felt her hand move over the crotch of his pants. No one can resist the rogue, he thought. It took him a moment to realize that her touch was becoming increasingly and quite uncomfortably cold. "Just remember, Master Tavian," she said softly into his ear. "That the next time you touch me without my permission I can and will quite literally put your manhood in an ice block."
Tavian could hear the tinkling sound of magically conjured ice forming on Sorawen's fingers and he released her, taking one large step back. "My apologies, Lady."
She gave him the shallowest of nods and then turned around, beckoning him with a hand again.
"You know," he said after a moment. "Tash and I have always shared a room. It's quite unnecessary to put me up in the guest quarters."
Sorawen snorted. "Believe me you don't want to stay in that mausoleum. The 'house physicians' have decreed that sunlight and 'contagions' from the city air could be most grievously detrimental to your little brother's health. As a result the windows have all be shuttered up and the blinds haven't been open in months. I think they're all secretly just waiting for him to die so that none of them can be held accountable for his health any longer. If any one of them had any common sense they would see that there is nothing wrong with your brother that some decent rest, fresh air, and a reason to live wouldn't cure. I have suggested numerous times that he go stay at the Stillwater Estate in the Eversong Woods, but no. 'What about the trolls?' 'What about the scourge?' 'He could catch the plague!'" she sing-songed in a mocking voice. "Two weeks in the woods with my sisters and he'd be cured of all but the occasional heart palpitation." She snarled as she conjured a key out of the air and unlocked one of the large doors, pushing it open with a creak.
Stepping into the dusty, closed up guest room Tavian regarded Sorawen carefully. "You seem to genuinely care about Tash."
She laughed as she pulled the heavy drapes wide, flooding the room with golden-red light. "Well as far as I can tell he's the only decent man in the entire Stormcaller family. I had high hopes for you the way Tashin was always going on about you, but I think you're quite a bit more like Zalmon that I can really appreciate."
Tavian gave her a stony look. "Don't ever compare me to my elder brother. I'm nothing like him."
She gave him an acid smile. "No? Vain, promiscuous, self-righteous, arrogant… tell me if I miss anything. Although I must say that you do at least have the capacity to truly care for another. Your little scene with Tashin was quite touching… then again… I have to wonder how much of that is really just because in some twisted way you see him as just an extension of yourself. Narcissistic, yes there's one I missed earlier."
Tavian took a deep breath, clenching his fists. He was angry, but not because of the mocking tone in her voice, but because there was truth to her words. "I stand humbled, Lady."
She smiled and nodded. "Yes… I have that effect on a lot of people. Now, arms out at your side." She twirled her finger and was suddenly holding a measuring tape.
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to take your measurements, silly boy. I could just use Tashin's, but I'm afraid he is quite a bit thinner than you at this moment."
Tavian scoffed. "Are you calling me fat?"
"No, I'm calling your brother malnourished."
She ran her delicate hands over his body as she moved the measuring tape. There was nothing overtly sensual about the process, but Tavian could not help but shiver, though in truth his mind continued to return to Tashin and the feel of him in his arms.
"I only stood up for you for his sake," she said taking his inseam. "I don't give one whit about whether or not Zalmon wants to excommunicate you from the family for being a rogue."
"Technically I've already been excommunicated from the family for being a rogue."
"Whatever. I just want you to know that if your being here does not help him, if he does get worse because of you, I have no qualms with tossing you out myself," she said, snapping her fingers as the measuring tape disappeared. "All done." She walked to the door.
"He will get better," Tavian said, halting Sorawen in her tracks. She looked back over her shoulder. Tavian gave her a roguish smile. "He needs me."