Note: My FB page reached 100 likes so as promised, I'm posting a new fic!

The title doesn't mean that this fic is actually related to Elfen Lied, I just liked it as a title a lot, nothing more!

This is a strange crossover between Matt & Mello from Death Note, World of Warcraft and some elements from Earth's Children book series (very little though, just the totem concept actually).
Basically, take Matt and Mello - one human, one elf - put them in the WoW universe with a few characters from the game, and that's it. Since my main focus is Matt and Mello, I know that some WoW characters are totally OOC (Anduin is pretty much the opposite of what he really is) but that was needed for the fic so bear with it if you're a WoW fan!

The ship sailed smoothly on grey waters as it approached the Human capital's docks. The Night Elf refrained a sigh at the memory of the emerald sea around Teldrassil, his beautiful homeland. He hadn't seen it for quite some time now, but his travel was nearing the end, Stormwind being his last stop before going back home.

He wasn't fond of Humans. He didn't hate them, but if he had to rate his feelings, they were pretty close to scorn. Humans were petty, vain and attached to material possessions in a way that rendered them unsatisfied, with everything, all the time. Himself didn't need much except some impossible calm right now.

He was a creature of the woods, of the elements and the night, and he would usually avoid meeting Humans at all costs.
But right now, his father passing away a few weeks ago, leaving the leadership of his people in his hands, he couldn't escape the duty that had fallen upon him as the new ruler of the Elven Lands: meeting the heads of the Alliance tribes to secure the bonds and introduce himself as the new Supreme Elf.
He disliked it. He hated the position, the superiority involved with his rank - that he didn't want to apply -, the title and the task. But he also knew that he didn't have the right to pass. The thousands of years old tradition wouldn't be broken so easily, as little as he wanted to pursue the family's ancestral heirloom.

There was also another weight in the balance. Power was an attractive artefact to possess, and as peaceful as the elves were, there is vice in every living form. His tribe was not an exception. The newly named Supreme Elf would never fail the tradition for it would mean leaving the reins of his race to his obvious successor.
In other times, with a worthy second, he might have considered turning to a more peaceful life while someone else attended to the tribe, but it wasn't an option: you cannot leave the power to someone whose ambition is to annex all Alliances' people to the elves. When words of war, slavery and domination are the main ingredients of a regular oration, doom is bound to happen, should this person take matters in their hands.

He had already met the Gnomes, the Worgens – that had been absolutely obnoxious in their lack of hospitality and respect of the Alliance -, the peaceful Draeneïs and the drunkards that are Dwarves, so he was at least glad that it was over soon, after he would have talked with Varian Wrynn, the Human king. Then he would go back straight to his island, north of Kalimdor.

The huge saber tiger at his side growled when a passenger grazed him as he went past them, wanting to be first to debark, the low sound stirring the Elf from his thoughts, deepening the frown on his face, his ears already attacked by the noisy crowd, his nose filled with disgusting smells, too many informations coming to his senses in too little time.
Stormwind was a nightmare for someone like him who loved silence, nature and the simple scent of Mother Earth. Humans wouldn't know, their senses were weak and that was probably why they could get along with such stench and clutter.

The fair-haired Night Elf was surprised to see Varian himself welcome him on the dock, a guard at each of his sides, a smile plastered on his ageing features, his arms held out to his visitor.
"Mello, son of Melvaarion! Welcome to Stormwind!" he greeted him, "Please accept my condolences, your father was a long time friend of mine, and a valuable ally. He will be greatly missed, I can assure you."

The Night Elf walked to the Human king, his riding tiger following in his tracks, but stopped before him at a safe distance from his open arms. He wasn't one for effusions, and Varian quickly understood, letting his arms fall at his sides. Like father, like son... he thought, remembering the tall Night Elf that used to be his friend.

They had fought side by side many times, been together side by side at peaceful times as well, enjoying their friendship, but the late Supreme Elf had never lost his reserve.
Varian had known Mello as a child, and although he had not seen him more than twice, he had difficulties seeing him as a grown-up and responsible male, and even more as the one in charge for his people now.

The man in front of him, not much older than his own son who was in his mid-twenties, still had the features of a young male, nothing like his father, but this would come with age and experience... and the battles he would fight. The Gods forbid any more war though... Varian muttered to himself as he turned around to lead Mello to the castle.

"Anduin is impatient to see you."
It was useless to try to make conversation, apparently, as Mello didn't reply.
What could the young male say? His only souvenir of Anduin was a spoiled brat that loved to torment other kids and animals. Himself wasn't impatient to see the Prince.

The walk was a bit long since they had to climb long stairways and cross the capital to reach the castle, making the silence even more awkward. But the Human King knew better than try to stir words out of the Night Elf and he kept silent, preceding the little cortege firmly with the two guards behind him and his taciturn visitor.

Once they entered the throne room, the guards left and Varian turned to face Mello.
"I assume that your trip has been long and tiring and that you wish to rest, my intendant will show you your apartments for the night, and we will discuss political matters tomorrow morning. But I hope that you still have some energy left for the small dinner I have organised in your honour tonight, it is out of the question that we do not celebrate your venue here, and you must be starving anyway!"

Mello cringed. If the choice was his, he'd rather retire to his apartments right now and feed on the small supplies he had left in the bag attached to the saddle of his tiger. Or better, he'd preferably discuss political matters immediately since there was nothing to discuss, really, it was only customary that he had presented himself to each of the other rulers of the Alliance, and he would leave right after that.
But refusing Varian's hospitality would be a great offence, and he respected the memory of his father too much to do him wrong in the tomb.
So the Night Elf simply nodded, and followed the intendant through corridors. The mount followed under the dubious look of the king and his guards, but none opposed. They liked the idea of the animal staying with his master better than having the huge cat wandering around the castle on his own. He was quite scary, his withers easily reaching a man's waist, teeth like daggers and ready to pounce on anyone that would touch him that wasn't his master.

Varian looked at the young male leaving the throne room. Really, he was nothing like his father. He was shorter, well, at least shorter for a Night Elf's standard, although very well built, defined muscled rolling under the skin, hands calloused already from a life in the woods, but all the Human king saw in him was Mello's mother. He had inherited her pale white skin, her fine yet sharp facial traits, thin nose and graceful stature. He didn't know anything about Night Elves' genetics, but couldn't help but wonder how on Earth the boy had ended up with hair so fair and water-clear eyes when his mother had them both dark green and his father had had his long strands white from birth, along with black eyes.
But there was no denying he was their son, the young male mixed the physical traits of his mother with his father's attitudes too obviously not to notice.

Alone at last, minus his riding tiger that had sprawled on the tiled floor, yawning loudly, as soon as his master had rid him of the saddle and reins, Mello began by grooming the wriggling cat that relished in the treatment, before washing the grim of the travel off himself in the small bathroom adjacent to his bedroom.
He knew he had a bit of time to kill before someone would fetch him for dinner, and was pondering about what to do until then, when he heard a voice coming from under his window.
"Come oooon, you won't get caught, I promise!"
The Night Elf approached the window and glanced toward the direction the voice came from.

It was coming from quite far below since Mello's room had a view on the backside of the castle, a grass patch just before the mountains, and he could barely see more than hair and clothing.
A young man, his age maybe, with garments that stated his high rank at Stormwind, was pulling another boy by the arm – boy that obviously wasn't of the same rank, more a poor villager than anything considering the mangy clothes he was wearing, and Mello only guessed it was a boy by the fact that he was wearing pants, because really, he was so frail that he could have mistaken him for a girl – and was apparently trying to convince him to do something that the other didn't want to.

"Come oooooon! If you like me you have to do it!"
The other's response was barely a whisper, but Elven ears were a lot sharper than Humans' and Mello clearly understood the boy's refusal, although weak out of fear. "I'm not sure... I... what if someone comes?"
"Please, Matt, pretty please? You have to show me you like me too otherwise I won't see you anymore!"
The last words of the higher ranked boy were persuasive enough for the poor redhead.
"Okay..." the one named Matt replied in a sigh, kneeling in front of the other. He seemed to hesitate though. "Sir Anduin, do you really like me?"

Anduin... so it was him...
"Yeah, of course!" the Prince's mouth poured out the lies with the confidence of someone who practised them on a regular basis. So he hasn't changed a bit... Mello thought as he witnessed the scene.
Mello didn't miss the glimmer of hope in the boy's eyes as he rose his face to look up at the Prince. Anyone would have understood the pitiful abuse, but the redhead didn't realise he was being lied to. How could someone be so naïve?

It was none of his business, and he could be wrong anyway, so Mello looked away as the boy began to reach for Anduin's pants' opening.
But before he turned away completely, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, in the bushes a few feet away from the scene. Squinting his eyes, he saw four boys hidden and giggling.
Quickly understanding that it was more than just little lies to get a sexual favour, Mello grabbed his bow and shot an arrow in direction of the bush, close enough to make the boys scurry away, the stampede making the redhead jump on his feet, horror painted on his face.
"Someone was watching!" he panicked.
But the Prince was concerned by a totally different matter.
"Someone tried to kill me! Where did that arrow come from?! Father! FATHER!"

Mello knew he would have to explain his actions, but he wasn't scared of Anduin. He watched the redhead, thinking that he would run away with all the fuss the Prince was doing, but instead, the boy picked up the arrow as soon as he saw it, understanding finally why Anduin was crying bloody murder, and watched it closely before checking around for someone that could have possibly shot it.
Anduin, on his part, was already gone, running to the front of the castle through the gardens, still calling his father.
The Night Elf followed the redheaded boy visually until he was gone from hearing guards approaching. Then he left his apartments for the throne room where Anduin was still acting as if the arrow had touched him.

"That's enough Anduin." Varian raised a hand to silence his son as he saw his guest approach.
"I shot the arrow." Mello simply stated, to erase all doubt, although he knew that the king wasn't stupid, and could put two and two together knowing that Anduin was in the back of the castle specifically where the room of his archery expert visitor was located as well.
"WHY DID YOU TRY TO KILL ME?!" the Prince marched on him before stopping cold. The Night Elf's look was intimidating to say the least, and his lack of courage did the rest.
"I didn't". The Darnassian accent was thick, but the voice was steady. It was one of a being that knew he wasn't the one to blame.
"Mello, can I ask you why you shot an arrow knowing that my son was around? I know very well that if you had wanted to aim at him, you wouldn't have missed, so there has to be a valid explanation. Please give it to me. Were you trying to protect him from something?" Varian had no doubts that the Night Elf meant no wrong to his son.

Mello stared at Anduin for a few seconds, but the coward wouldn't open his mouth, and Mello didn't want to confront him because in the end, all the blame might be put on the redhead's account and he didn't want that.
"I was practicing."

The king turned to face his son, his look severe. He was very well aware of his offspring's temper and behaviour, and he had no uncertainty about the fact that Anduin had pulled another trick. The circumstances were quite unusual and he couldn't fathom what had happened, but if his visitor had deemed necessary to shoot an arrow then the matter was somehow serious.

"Oh!" Anduin exclaimed suddenly, his face lighting up with the triumph of someone who found an exit door in a tricky labyrinth, "You were actually aiming at that boy, right? The one that was attacking me! Father, there was that boy with the red hair from the village, and he was after me for some reason and your visitor apparently helped me, and I was already so scared because of the other assaulting me that I mistook his help for another attack."
"Find the boy!" Varian shouted at his guards, "Bring him here, he will have to explain himself in front of me before I throw him in a cell!"
"Father, no!"

Mello was surprised to hear Anduin raise against his father, in favour of the young villager. Probably as much as the king himself.
"He's just a poor scoundrel, and he doesn't have all his right mind, his family would be devastated if they knew. I know that what he did is very wrong, but he probably only wanted some money, he's not even strong enough to hurt me, please, let's forget this."
Every word screamed lie to the king's ears but he saw from the corner of his eye his intendant entering the room, probably to inform him that the banquet was ready, and he was very tired of his son's regular antics, so he dismissed his guards with a sign of his right hand, sighing that his guest had had to witness this.
"Let's devote ourselves to more pleasant activities." he gestured to Mello and his son toward the huge door that had been opened on the left, leading to a room where a table had been set for too many people to consider it a small dinner. And indeed, from a door at the far end of the dining area, nobles in fancy clothing began to enter, taking place on each side of the table, leaving both ends free for the king, his son and the visitor.

The Night Elf gave a dark look at the Prince, who smirked before taking the seat that was his at one end of the table.
"Mello, please sit beside me." the king gestured to the chair that was paired with his at the other end. It was customary to have important guests sit next to the king during celebrations.
Mello sat, as Varian introduced him to the crowd: "Mello, son of Melvaarion, the new Supreme Elf!"
The young male breathed heavily, highly annoyed by the clapping and the overall forced public activity, but he showed nothing of his displeasure.

Once the feast was over, Mello retired to his apartments.
He was about to take some rest a while later when he heard steps in a corridor nearby, when everything had been silent until then, steps that were being taken so carefully that it was obvious that whoever was walking didn't want to be heard.
His trained ears recognised the Prince by the sound of his shoes and the rustling of his clothing.
With a practised ease, he opened his own door without a sound and, his tiger in toe, trailed the other, unnoticed.
Master of camouflage, the Night Elf slid in shadows while the Prince progressed in the night, soon joining his acolytes in front of a tavern in the center of Stormwind.