Chapter Four : Warning

There are few things in this world that are more elegant than a festive Kaldorei celebration. Violet paper lanterns hung upon the rooftops from strings, swaying in the gentle evening breeze. Flames of torches fluttered and danced as if they were alive. Timid wisps hovered and chased after shadows. Song and laughter were light upon the air that surrounded the Stormherald Estate. Noble ladies wore colorful evening gowns that trained across the garden floor and sleeves that fell far from their slender arms, while their men wore high-collared robes of authority in shades of blue, gold and brown.

Mendingwall was dressed in such garments himself, and found the tight neck extremely uncomfortable. He pulled at it when he was sure his mother was not watching--if she knew how he fidgeted in such noble wear she would only fuss over him until each fold was neatly pressed. He frowned and scoured the crowd obstinately, wondering if the toil he had put into such a celebration had been worth it. He had not yet seen Bellthaine. She had promised to attend; it was two hours past the time for guests to arrive, and he was growing impatient, hope fading rapidly into disappointment.

Manolios Stormherald and the lovely Lycena, of course, were enjoying the attention immensely. Only moments before had he made the announcement that his soft-spoken wife was with child, and the entire throng had broke out into hearty cheers. Mendingwall congradulated the both of them with awkward handshakes, and at one point was so anxious that he made a rather inappropriate joke. When his brother did not laugh, he cleared his throat and moved away, deciding it best to stay clear of his tense family for the rest of the night.

"Mend?"

He turned around so fast he nearly lost his balance, but his feet stood firm and he lost his breath instead.

Bellthaine Moonrunner stood but yards away from him, cheeks glowing and shoulders tense with her own anticipation. The gown she wore did not train, like those of the full grown women in the crowd of faces; instead, it was far more human in design than Elvish. Soft yellow and golden hues glittered like butterflies around her waist, and the sleeves that encircled her tiny shoulders were thin and made of lace, baring her soft, flawless arms. Her dress curved out from underneath her corset like a flower. Had any normal person laid eyes upon her, she would be mistaken for royalty.

"Wow," was all Mendingwall could find to say, something he would kick himself for later. "You look....amazing."

Bellthaine blushed and bowed. Her hair was pinned up in curls and crowned with a golden circlet, revealing her perfect neck. Mendingwall tried his best to ignore it--how could any man possibly look upon such features and resist the urge to kiss them? Instead, he threw such thoughts aside and held out his hand to her. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"I had to wait until my studies were finished." Bellthaine said apologetically, emberrassed. "And then my mother thought I'd look best in this silly thing. What I had in mind was more simple, but she would not listen--apparently I should be dressed as if I'm at my own wedding celebration, instead of someone else's."

"You're beautiful." Mendingwall reassured her, pulling her next to him and leading her through the crowd. It seemed as if everyone parted from their way to stop and look at her. His wish had come to life; Bellthaine was surely the most beautiful girl in their midst, matching even Lycena.

Elvish music carried upon the air, soft and sweet with lyre, harp and flute. The crowd broke apart into pairs, the tall and dashing alongside their lovely companions. Mendingwall saw Bellthaine blush as she grasped his arm, searching around in the sea of faces. "Everyone looks so happy." She observed faintly. "Your brother must be well-liked."

"That's one way of looking at it." Mendingwall smirked, hiding a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew what she was longing for by the distant look in her eyes. "I would ask you to dance, Bell, but I'm terrible at it. I really don't want to emberrass you." Or me, for that matter.

Bellthaine drew closer to his side, her voice a whisper. "Take me then somewhere private. Where we can still hear the music."

"Why, milady Moonrunner, what a suggestion!" He teased her. "It's as if you wish to meet in secret. What exactly are your intentions? I will have you know, I am not so easily swayed by the beauty of a lady."

She giggled and nudged him with her elbow. "Please?"

"Very well." Mendingwall agreed, and once he was sure all attention was diverted elsewhere, he quietly led Bellthaine through the estate and out underneath the back archway, where the music, however faint, could still pleasantly surround them. The bushes that decorated the wooden walls of House Stormherald glittered with fireflies, while others flitted in circles around the paper lanterns, enchanted with the candlelight.

"Now what?" He asked, but Bellthaine had already taken both of his hands, squeezing them tightly.

"Now you can ask me to dance, without anyone watching."

Her hands were warm and soft to the touch. Mendingwall smiled at her. "I wasn't lying when I told you I was terrible at it."

"Have you ever tried?"

"Not especially, no."

"Then you can't know you're terrible, can you?" She pointed out, trying not to giggle.

"Very well." Mendingwall hesitated, and then moved his hand from her grasp to her waist. "I'm not sure if I'm doing this right." He admitted nervously, and, moving it further, settled it on the groove of her lower back. He entwined his free hand's fingers with her own and stared down at her, wondering if he needed further instruction in the matter.

"You're too far away." Bellthaine reassured him gently. "Closer."

He breathed in sharply and guided her closer to him as she asked; her stomach touched his and he swallowed, screaming at himself not to be caught blushing. He could see the anxious rise and fall of her chest; she was just as nervous as he was. He lead her around on the grass slowly, terrified of crushing her feet; but she followed him and seemed to nimbly escape his awkward steps.

"I'm so glad no one can see us." He said under his breath. They laughed together, still dancing slowly and ungracefully as youngsters, even Elven ones, often do. The music swept to its end in what seemed like moments, and they stopped. Mendingwall loosened his grip but Bellthaine did not break away, her eyes betraying her desires, flitting back and forth from his gaze to his mouth.

Mendingwall's conscience was screaming at him to take her back inside. Don't even think about it! She is out of your league. AND she's probably spoken for. AND her father will kill you, and if he doesn't, YOUR mother will!

Give up already. Shoving all reservations aside, he curled his other arm around her and brought her face up to his. She gasped as his grip tightened, and then their lips were moving against one another. Bellthaine's lips were softer than anything Mendingwall had ever experienced. Her arms moved up his chest and around his neck, fingers gently stroking his hair.

His conscience screamed at him furiously, keeping him in stride, not allowing him to press her for more. He broke away and felt her warm breath on his cheek, but her lips found his again strongly. The effects of her taste, her smell, the warmth of her body were absolutely intoxicating. Dizzy, he pulled away from her, afraid to lose control completely. "No."

She was alarmed by his reaction. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"I can't." Mendingwall murmured. "I shouldn't. I mean..." He sighed, scolding himself for his lack of articulacy. "You're engaged, aren't you, Bell?"

Bellthaine looked up into his face, confused. "What?"

"You. You're friends, all of you, you're...surely someone like you is already intended for someone else?"

She gently lifted his chin, and in shame he met her gaze. She was biting her lip, trying not to laugh. "That's what your worried about? My family, an enraged fiance?"

"Mostly, yes."

She became very solemn. "My father mentioned once he had someone in mind for me, yes. But I have never met him. I doubt I ever will. Our engagement was never set in stone; apparently the boy himself was greatly opposed to marrying me."

"That's understandable. He's never seen you." Relief quickly swept over Mendingwall. "You're very hard to resist when you're standing right in front of someone."

She tilted her head coyly and twirled her dress around her bare feet, turning away from him. The pale, near violet color of her skin shone in the evening light. "I thought you weren't easily swayed by the beauty of a lady." She said in a mocking tone, imitating him.

"A lady, no, never." Mendingwall agreed, joining her side. "Angel or goddess, maybe."

"You're overexaggerating. How mean." Bellthaine protested, nudging him with her elbow.

"Okay, maybe I was." He grinned. "Just a lady, then. A lovely, tiny little lady."

"Not fair, I can't help my size." Bellthaine giggled and against his better judgement, Mendingwall pulled her against him again.

"You're the perfect size." He reassured her. "Perfect fit."

"Mendingwall?"

Both of their bodies went stiff with surprise. Startled, Mendingwall whirled around and held his breath. Lycena stood before them both, Manolios rigid with eyes bulging beside her. "Oh!" Lycena exclaimed, and her face began to twist with what could only be amusement. "We're so sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt. I needed a breath of fresh air, so many people in the house...."

Manolios' face, on the other hand, contorted into an ugly mix of horror and disgust. "What...what were you--"

"Pardon," Bellthaine begged and bowed low. Her circlet caught moonlight and shone of diamonds. "I felt faint. Mend--I mean, Lord Stormherald was only accompanying me to make sure I was well. Weren't you, sir?" She stared at him tensely.

"Y-yes, of course." Mendingwall parrotted her, but his tone was not as convincing. "She's a friend of mine." He knew neither his brother or his bride were fooled, but at least they had not witnessed them earlier.

Lycena did not seem to mind the tryst in the slightest. "Well, all the same, we are very sorry to disturb you. We will give you some room to breathe, won't we, Manolios dear?"

"Of course," Manolios croaked, unhappy about it, his eyes fixed on his brother, boring into him like needles. "Perhaps we shall talk later than, Mendingwall, after you have escorted this young lady home. It's getting late."

Mendingwall felt his fingernail's digging into his palm as he gripped his fists angrily. "Very well." He said with finalty. "I shall see you inside."

"Alone." Manolios instructed sternly, and he took Lycena and they swept back into the gardens together.

"Vultures." Mendingwall hissed when they were out of an earshot.

"Perhaps you shouldn't escort me home." Bellthaine suggested sheepishly. "I'm sorry that I got you in trouble."

"Don't worry about him, he doesn't scare me. The only thing we'll be talking about is him, keeping to his own business."

"All the same, he was right about one thing." Bellthaine sighed. "It is getting late, and I should probably go." She paused. "Would you...come see me?"

"When?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight?" Mendingwall hesitated. "I'm not sure if I can manage--"

"Please," Bellthaine interrupted him, her voice wavering.

Mendingwall breathed in deeply. "Very well. After my house has settled tonight and everyone is in bed."

"My window is on the farthest side of my house. I'll leave it open." She leaned up on her tiptoes and gently pecked his cheek. "I'll be waiting for you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mendingwall did not bother to seek out his brother when he returned to the party; instead, he sat under the willow tree and brooded about his ruined evening with Bellthaine. His mind played the moment when he and Bellthaine had kissed over and over again, and his stomach squirmed uncomfortably with anticipation. He cursed under his breath and wished the guests would leave and his family, go to sleep. He did not know what to expect that evening, or what to do.

Don't even think about it. His inner voice growled.

Come off it. Mendingwall silently retorted. I'm not going to do anything like that.

As if you wouldn't jump for it if she gave you the chance.

I wouldn't. Mendingwall protested. He could not deny that he longed for more than the implication, but he was an honorable young man, and did not want to risk Bellthaine's reputation or throw her into shame.

"Mend?"

Mendingwall winced. He hated it when Manolios attempted to shorten his name. His tone was never friendly. "What?" He muttered unhappily, sticking a fallen twig into the ground repeatedly in hopes of passing the dull time faster.

"May I speak with you in private?"

Not keen upon humiliation, Mendingwall reluctantly followed Manolios into the kitchen, where hired servants were cleaning pots and pans. Manolios bid them to exit and they obeyed. He paced the cold floor, the heels of his black boots heavy upon sturdy wood planks. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" He demanded, once he knew they were alone.

Mendingwall shrugged, knowing his indifference would infuriate his brother more, and sat down at the servant's table, setting his feet upon it. "I have done nothing wrong."

"Indeed!" Manolios scoffed, eyebrows raised skeptically. "Only compromised the daughter of one of Darnassus' most high ranking officials--the High Priest of Elune, no less! I know your mother told you to reach for the moon, but she is far out of your league."

Mendingwall rolled his eyes. "We were talking, nothing more."

"You jolly were not." In his travels, Manolios had caught a hint of what Mendingwall thought to be a Dwarven accent. This was not completely uncommon--Winterspring was a shared home of Dwarves, Elves and Gnomes alike. "I saw how you were holding her. Friends don't hold each other like that."

"You want the truth, brother?" Mendingwall retorted with a threat in his tone, standing as tall as he could muster. "It's none of your business."

"It is my business when you endanger our family."

"Endanger?!" Mendingwall fumed. "How is spending one night with someone I care about endangering anybody?"

"She is not yours to have and to hold, Mendingwall, she is probably already spoken for and you know that!"

"I already asked her!" Mendingwall shouted, heart beating wildly with rage. "You think I would've acted how I did if I wasn't sure?!"

"So she couldn't be lying to you?" Manolios asked, baiting him. "Using you, until such a man shows up and steals her away from you as swiftly as she came into your life!"

"Is that what happened to you? Is that why you fled like a coward to Winterspring after that night you fought with mom?" Mendingwall demanded, his voice rough. He had never wanted to hit his brother so badly before.

Manolios blanched. He was not used to his younger brother confronting him with such force. "Of course not," he sputtered. "I left because I wanted to. Lycena was....she's been my only--"

"Right." Mendingwall interrupted, filled with loathing. "You're lecturing me, about holding a girl the wrong way--apparently--when you used your wife before you even bothered to marry her--"

Manolios struck out at him and Mendingwall staggered backwards, holding his cheek with his hand. Manolios rasped, out of breath, shaking with his own anger. "I'm--I'm sorry." He stammered. "I shouldn't have--I didn't mean to--"

"Your no brother of mine." Mendingwall snarled and pushed past him.

"Wait, Mend, please."

"If you tell anybody about Bellthaine and I," Mendingwall hissed. He had never hated his brother before this, but enough was enough, and he was not going to be pushed around again. "I swear to all of the Gods of Azeroth, I'll tell everyone the truth about your precious baby."

He slammed the kitchen door away so hard it was nearly knocked off of its hinges. He cursed under his breath, his shoulders tense, and nearly ran into Lycena, who was walking in the opposite direction to find her husband.

"Mend, have you seen--"

"In the kitchen." Mendingwall snapped, trying to move past her.

"What happened?"

"Ask him about it. He can tell you all about his hypocritical, fatherly lecture." Mendingwall answered hotly and stalked down the hallway. Lycena followed him; he heard her footsteps and rolled his eyes. Only an obstinate woman would marry his brother so quickly--either that, or a foolish one.

"Mend, wait." She pleaded, and touched his arm. He slowed, holding his emotions back. She had not done him wrong, he knew, and would not give his brother the opportunity to hit him again for speaking rudely to his wife. "I don't know what happened between you and Manolios, but I promise you--he's only ever spoken well--"

"Don't bother, milady." Mendingwall could not help the cold nature of his own voice. "Lord Stormherald has made it perfectly clear I am an emberrassment to our family name."

"That's not true!" Lycena persisted, still kind despite his own manner. He steadied himself and let the tension in his shoulders drop. She was nothing like Manolios at all. "I'm sure he was just angry..."

"Does he punch you when he's angry?"

Lycena gasped. "Of course not--he hit you?"

"Not like I didn't deserve it." Mendingwall admitted sorely. "I guess I crossed the line a bit, but...he has no right telling me how to run my own life."

"That's true."

"What?" Mendingwall said, surprised by her answer. He was expecting he would have to defend himself more.

Lycena sighed, smiled at him, and took his arm. "Walk with me. You are as much my brother as his, now, anyway."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"He's a stubborn, stuck-up, arrogant jackass."

Lycena laughed in good spirit as Mendingwall fumed beside her, his cheek still smarting from Manolios' punch in the kitchen. "Sometimes," she allowed, "he can be. In truth, any man can be. You all have varied similarities."

"I hope you didn't drag me out here to stereotype me." Mendingwall grumbled as they walked through Darnassus together. He hoped to himself that when they returned, the guests would be gone, and he could be with Bellthaine again.

"Not at all," Lycena said, and patted his shoulder. She seemed easy enough to warm up to; and her soft, motherly nature made him feel more comfortable than he normally would in the company of a new family member. "I just thought we should talk, about your brother."

"What about?"

"I don't know, whatever you want, really."

Mendingwall paused and glanced at her. "Did you marry him because he used a bear trap on you, and wouldn't release you otherwise?"

Lycena laughed. "Of course not--he wasn't so crude. He talked me into an evening walk, kind of like this one. Kissed me only hours after meeting me." Her eyes glittered.

"Doesn't sound like him at all. Not boring enough."

"Why do you dislike him so?"

"I thought we already clarified that." Mendingwall said flatly, and Lycena smiled and took his arm again.

"Give him time. As much as he wants to, he won't change overnight." She said, and lifted up her skirt to her ankles as they crossed a small bridge.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Mendingwall asked as Lycena stopped to gaze at the water.

"I wanted to talk to you myself. About your friend." Lycena said delicately to avoid angering him. "Bellthaine is her name, isn't it?"

"Yes." Mendingwall admitted grudgingly, wishing his family would drop the subject altogether. He thought of her waiting patiently in her bedroom, and the image of it made him ache.

"I like her. She seems like a very nice young lady."

Mendingwall scoffed. "You're not going to tell me about how she's out of my league, and how I should stay away from her and seclude myself to a convent thousands of miles away? Or perhaps, something to that effect?"

"Good gracious, no, those human convents are so filthy, the most humble have no sanitary concern at all." Lycena teased. She dipped her shoe idly into the water below, resting her elbows on the wooden railing. "What I was going to tell you was...simple, actually....just be careful. I've only just met you, and I don't want anyone getting hurt."

"Thanks for the heads up, but you don't need to worry about me."

"I'm not worried about you, as much as I am about her."

Mendingwall raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "I don't understand."

"You're a very charming young man, Mendingwall Stormherald. Much like your brother." Lycena said gently. "I remember being her age. It's a very vulnerable time--and a girl's heart is so easily broken. If you pursue her, you must be relentless; never, under any circumstances, abandon her."

Mendingwall shook his head in disbelief. "I would never do that."

"You say that now. But would you be so brave in the face of her angry father?"

Mendingwall said nothing and felt a chill down his spine. He hoped to never confront Lord Moonrunner in such a way, and would strive to avoid such an unpleasurable meeting. "I didn't hit Manolios back," he managed, "but that doesn't make me a coward."

"It's good to hear. Remember your own words." Lycena said, satisfied with his answer. "It's the only warning I can give you."

After a long silence, Mendingwall cleared his throat. "It's getting late, I should take you home."

"Don't bother, I know my way." Lycena said, waving her delicate hand at him as if to gesture his leave. "I'm sure there's someone waiting anxiously for you about a mile or so from here." She smiled, eyes glinting mischievously.

Mendingwall could not surpress a grin. "You really just brought me here to--"

"Don't keep her waiting." Lycena interrupted, a smirk spreading across her face. "And it would be wise to return home before dawn, so that you aren't caught."

Mendingwall bowed graciously. "Thank you, milady."

"No thanks needed, young Mend." Lycena bowed in return. "Despite anything that happens, you will always have a friend in me. Unlike Manolios," she winked, "I remember what it's like, to be young and in love."

Mendingwall nodded and took off in a full run in the opposite direction of his house, feeling as if his feet had wings, and made note to himself to apologize to his brother for his harsh words--about Lycena, at least. She was not deserving of any discord.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was two hours past midnight in the city of Darnassus. The moon cast light through the trees and settled on the waters of the Moonwell beside the temple. The archways loomed, ornate with Elvish text and symbol, in shallow darkness. Ancient protectors, moving trees that spoke and rumbled, swayed quietly to themselves, their giant limbs occasionally creaking as their roots shifted in the ground. The city smelled thick of pine and lavender.

Mendingwall's eyes shone as brightly as a cat as he leapt silently through the sleeping city, up the paved cobblestone roads towards the House of Moonrunner. No lanterns shone upon the High Priest's walls, and he knew the entire family was asleep. He crept up the stairs as quietly as he could, the sound of his footprints drowned out by the music of crickets. He steered away from the large archway that beheld the large double doors, and passed window after window. All of the elegant wooden shutters were closed, save the very last one on the far left, where the house began to curve around to meet its other end in a crescent. There, in the window, was a single little candle, burned nearly to its end in the darkness.

Mendingwall checked behind him and slowed his pace under the windowsill. With a single skilled movement, he hoisted himself up and over, falling clumsily on a bed softer than anything he had ever owned. The mattress was stuffed with swan-down and the blankets were made of silk.

He was greeted with a tiny moan. He tensed, sucking breath in sharply, and felt warm, soft skin brush up against him. A pale hand touched his knee. "Mend?"

"I'm sorry it took so long, Bell. I hope you didn't wait up for me too long."

"I'm a lightweight," she reassured him, raising her head long enough to stare at him with one eye, her other covered with a mess of dark blue curls. "I fell asleep regardless."

Mendingwall took in his surroundings and felt his stomach flutter uncomfortably. She seemed completely unaware of how she looked, of how sitting in bed with her made him feel. "Lie down with me." She whispered. He hesitated, and then scooted himself under her silken blankets, resting his head on the pillow beside her. He was both terrified and exhilirated. If her father knew, he would surely be beaten within an inch of his life, or banished, or perhaps even far more horrible than either. It gave him an intoxicating rush.

Innocently enough, Bellthaine turned and cuddled against him, resting her head underneath his chin. Mendingwall's cheeks turned hot. "Do you ever dream of me, Mend?" She asked sleepily.

He rested his cheek against her hair and the tension in his body slowly ebbed. "Only when I'm awake," he murmured softly. "Then, it's just constant. Especially after tonight."

"Somehow, I've dreamt of you, always. Even before I met you. It was strange, and frightening. But you were always there in the distance...a stranger. I feel like I've known you all my life, but only just now know your name, the sound of your voice...and because of you..." She trailed off and pressed closer against him. "My dreams are stronger now, more clear. You clarify everything."

He averted his eyes from her form, wishing she was not so naive about his gender. "Dreamers are rare, you know." He whispered. "You must be gifted."

"Now I am."

Her lips brushed against his cheek, and he turned to meet them. His heart began racing as she brought her arms around him. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were wandering, mind dizzy with fierce passion, down her legs and up again, underneath her satin nightgown. A soft moan escaped her mouth as her legs crossed with his; his hands were moving up her back now and around to her soft belly--her lips fought harder for control, bidding him to do more, and he wanted to.

Her smell and the feel of her flawless skin were intoxicating; he had rolled on top of her now, pinning her down but holding himself up enough so that he would not crush her. Her fingers were in his hair, brushing his cheek, bringing him into deeper kisses by pressing against his neck. He felt as if his entire body were on fire--the sounds she made! Surely they would drive any man insane.

No!

Mendingwall caught himself and pulled away, panting. His body screamed for more of her, for every part of her, and he longed without remorse to make her his own, to be her first and only, but his mind would not allow him such desires. His thoughts drifted to Lycena, asleep next to his brother, and he regained his control. He would not allow Bellthaine to succumb to such a fate--a rushed marriage to cover a growing belly.

"I can't." He whispered, kissing her forehead.

"Why?" He could hear the disappointment in her voice and wanted to kick himself--throw Elven chivalry and honor out the window.

"It isn't the right time."

"But I want to."

"I know." Mendingwall slowly shook his head and sat up, ruffling his unkempt hair. "Maybe I should go."

"Please stay. I'm sorry," she pleaded, tears building in her eyes. "I shouldn't have pressured you."

"No, no!" He protested, touched her face. "Please, please don't cry. I want it just as much as you. I just....I don't want to rush things. Please understand, don't blame yourself. We have all the time in the world for this, I promise." He sighed, reluctant to leave her warmth, and the security she gave him. "But I don't want to get you into trouble."

"Please, stay with me?" She begged further still, eyes glowing in the night. Mendingwall hesitated, but surrendered to the emotions that bound him, and nodded. He pulled the sheets and down blankets over their heads and slipped his arms underneath her, holding her close against him, her back pressed to his chest. He sighed and tried hard to clear his mind, still fighting thoughts of her naked skin and the sound of her breathing, while the other part of his mind embraced them eagerly.

"Mend?"

"Hmm."

"I don't want to lose you over something like this."

He smiled and closed his eyes, telling himself over and over again that patience was a virtue, and gently kissed her hair. He knew there would be a day when he would not have to leave at the first sign of morning, or have to watch her from a distance while heads were turned. The sounds of the night lulled him to sleep. "You never will," he murmured into her ear, "Never." And then slowly, enamored with everything that had happened in that enchanted evening, they both fell asleep in each other's arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Mendingwall awoke, it was to the song of a dove and the sun's glow playing upon his face. He breathed in slowly, still caught between a world of dreams and reality, and looked through blurry eyes at his bed-partner. Bellthaine was sleeping soundly, her exposed back still turned towards him. He almost reached out and caressed her, but realization hit him and he sat up with a jolt, looking in horror at the sunrise. "Oh, no."

Bellthaine jumped with fright when he leapt out of bed and tumbled out of the window, knocking over her candle in the process. "Mend, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"I overslept." He peeked over the windowsill. "I'll see you soon, I promise."

"Hurry," she urged, and he flew down the porch that lead up to her home, under the archways and through the quietest streets of Darnassus. He came to a halt outside of his own land, listening carefully. He heard nothing, and sighed a breath of relief--his family and their servants were not yet awake.

As quietly as his feet would allow him, Mendingwall crept through the gardens on his family estate, removing his sandals to ensure his silence as he stepped upon the wooden deck. The morning birds began to chirp and sing. Feeling pressed for time, he quickly moved through the kitchen, inwardly praying that no hired help had seen him enter his own home.

"A late night for you, little brother?"

Mendingwall cringed, recognizing the voice immediately. In the faint shadows that fled from the coming sun, stood Manolios. He wore simple pants and an undershirt; Mendingwall felt envious. He was built like a saber. He had taken the time to braid the hair out of his face--he must have been waiting for his return for most of the morning.

"Or perhaps," Manolios continued smugly, "I should say, an early morning?"

"Shouldn't you be taming lions somewhere?" Mendingwall groaned, knowing he was caught but determined not to allow his brother the pleasure of knowing it.

"Did your mother know you were out last night?" Manolios probed, his voice dripping with sarcastic accusation.

"Not like you'll tell her, either way." Mendingwall shrugged.

"I think you're bluffing."

"Try it." Mendingwall offered, golden eyes blazing. "See if you're right."

Manolios opened his mouth but had no answer to give. Mendingwall smirked, feeling rather big-headed over his victory. He would never smear Lycena's name, but as long as Manolios did not trust him, he had such leverage as to keep him out of trouble. Manolios enjoyed far too much the title of eldest son--a little reminder of past grievances, Mendingwall decided, did wonders for their relationship.

"I'm sure mother will be awake soon, and will probably want to know where you were." Manolios continued, ignoring his comment, voice condescending.

"No, she usually sleeps for most of the day until late afternoon." Mendingwall scowled. "And before you get all high and mighty on me, I'll remind you that I'm now immune to your threats. While you've been off enslaving exotic animals," he strongly emphasized the insult, knowing it would make Manolios' blood boil, "I've been at home caring for her in your absence. I think I know how to run this house. Better than you ever could, I imagine."

Manolios threw up his hands in exasperation. "Always fighting," he said. "I didn't come all the way here to bicker with the likes of you all day." He gathered his thoughts, and tried to remain diplomatic. "I'm sorry for last night, it was wrong of me to react the way I did. I promise, it will never happen again."

"And I'm sorry what I said, about Lycena." Mendingwall grumbled. "She seems....nice."

"She told me you went to Bellthaine's last night."

Mendingwall's muscles froze and words escaped him. Manolios half-smiled, as if displeased by his little brother's lack of retorts. "Although my opinion is strongly against your....friendship with the lady Bellthaine....my wife seems to have confidence in you. I just want to advise you--again--of all the feminine forms in Darnassus, hers is the one you shouldn't compromise."

"It wasn't like that, we didn't do anything." Mendingwall snapped. "We're just friends."

"Friend of the opposite sex that you slept with last night?" Manolios taunted.

"You wouldn't understand." Mendingwall snarled.

"You're not a child anymore, Mend. I'm serious, if you were discovered, have you thought of what would become of her? Of you, our family? It's such a risk--"

"One that you were just as willing to take, Manolios Stormherald."

Surprised by her sudden presence but quick to regain his composure, Manolios turned to face, in Mendingwall's opinion, far better half. "I'm sorry," her husband apologized softly. "Did I wake you?"

"No," a wry smile crossed Lycena's face as she braided her hair to her side. She placed a hand on her slightly protruding stomach, well hidden by her white sleeping gown. "As a matter of fact, your son did."

Mendingwall watched awkwardly as Lycena stretched to kiss Manolios' lips. "I think you've forgotten," she said, her voice alluring like honey, "all the nights you risked your family name to visit me in the dark."

He choked on his own laughter, relieved and satisfied by Manolios' horror. "We were engaged to be married, Lycena," he defended himself poorly.

"And in love," she sat down at the servant's table to rest her feet, and grinned at Mendingwall. "Your brother is quite a romantic, you know. He gave me a beautiful tigress as an engagement present."

"Really?" Mendingwall sat down with her, thoroughly enjoying the twisted look of frustration and emberrassment on Manolios' face.

"Yes, and she just had cubs a few months ago. It was quite a learning experience--I am relieved to carry just one, since she gave birth to four." Lycena laughed, and then her eyes brightened. "Say, is Bellthaine fond of animals? Perhaps she would like a cub of her own."

"She might like that," Mendingwall said thoughtfully, not wishing to show too much enthusiasm in front of his brother. He was inwardly excited with the idea, knowing that she would be thrilled.

"Lycena," Manolios began unhappily. "I don't think--"

"Enough, Manolios, he knows you don't approve." Lycena chided gently. "It is not our place to challenge fate. Bellthaine is in Mendingwall's life for a reason--we might as well support him while she plays a part in it."

He went rigid and sighed. "As you wish." He kissed his wife's hand. Mendingwall glanced at her and nodded graciously. Such allies like Lycena were a support, indeed.