Chapter 17 - COMING HOME
The moon gazed down on the halls of Mirkwood's King, watching with interest as three dark, cloaked figures nimbly clambered up a wall covered in ivy and clambered in through a window. As they drew off their cloaks, they disappeared out of sight of the moon. A muffled cry came from the brightly lit room, but then stopped as sharply as it began.
"Nilwethion you fool! Ssh! It is only us!"
Legolas removed the blanket he had thrown over his brothers' head when the prince had cried out. Nilwethion looked at his three brothers in shock, his mouth gaping open. After a pause a few seconds, Legolas laughed.
"You ought to see yourself," he whispered, "You look as though you have seen a ghost!"
Words finally came to the astonished prince as Astaler and Nuryávië began walking around his room, taking in the robes and tunics scattered across the floor, the papers on the desk and the sharp, shinning elvish dagger and sword resting against a chair as if they had never seen anything like it before.
"You . . . you are . . . I thought . . ."
Legolas tilted his head, expecting a full sentence, but nothing came. Instead, he found himself being almost smothered in an embrace as Nilwethion leapt across the room and flung his arms around the lost younger brother with relief.
"I feared the worst! But Legolas . . . your clothes. You are dressed like an orc! Where is your tunic?"
The prince shrugged and looked down at the filthy attire given to him by Urshak. As he caught sight of himself in the large mirror gracing Nilwethion's dressing table he gasped. In the dungeon like rooms of the Mirkwood mountains, his filthy, blood matted, pale reflection with the dull white skin and tangled hair had seemed almost normal. Now his reflection stared back at him like a ghost, out of place in the clean and beautiful world of the elves. Legolas ripped away his orcish leather and cape, leaving them lying on the floor, and pulled one of Nilwethion's tunics over his head. Looking back at the mirror, he still looked just as out of place. Almost as though he was no longer Legolas of Mirkwood.
Hearing laughter from behind him, he looked around to see Astaler holding the silver dagger that had been resting by the chair. As he watched, Astaler pressed his finger against the sharp blade, like a curious child. A drop of blood spilled through the sudden cut and splashed on the floor. Black blood. Beside Legolas, Nilwethion gasped loudly. Astaler made another cut on his finger, as if to see what colour the blood would be. Again, the blood that dripped to the floor was black.
"Astaler, stop playing with the dagger," muttered Nuryávië from the other side of the room, "I wish to see if Urshak was telling the truth about Neldoreth."
The three princes so recently let free from captivity opened the door and peered along the corridor, as if checking to make sure nobody else was there. They slipped through the open door and Nilwethion stumbled after them, looking back at the black drops of blood on his floor.
"Where are we going?" he asked
"This is the third floor," said Nuryávië. Nilwethion nodded
"Yes, but you know that,"
He watched as the three princes counted the doors, and then opened one, seemingly at random. Next to the door was a large tapestry of a woodland party scene, stretching along the wall of the corridor. Nuryávië sighed with relief and shut the door again.
"He was lying then," he smiled, "To think I believed an orc!"
He and Legolas let out relieved laughs as Nilwethion looked from one to the other.
"Lying? What . . .? Who . . .?" again, the confused prince finished none of his questions. Everything suddenly seemed to be happening so fast. Only a few days ago he had killed the orc for saying his brothers were weak, and that they would be fine captains for the shadows, but now here they were, having clambered through his window in the attire of orc captains, telling him nothing and apparently believing orcs. As he opened his mouth to ask a question, Astaler interrupted him.
"Wait," he said
The other two stopped laughing as Astaler grabbed hold of the tapestry and pulled it, making it come crumpling down at his feet. Behind the centre of where the tapestry had hung was an ornate door with fancy hinges and a fancy door handle. They all gasped.
"Nilwethion, open the door and tell us what is inside," ordered Legolas, his voice suddenly quiet.
Nilwethion picked his way over the folds of fabric and pushed open the door. As he opened it, the ancient hinges creaked loudly.
"It is a large room," he called back, "There seems to be furniture in here, but it is all covered on white sheets. There are so many layers of dust!"
He took a step in to the room, followed by Legolas, Astaler and Nuryávië. Even the floor had a huge dustsheet over it. With a flurry of movement and dust, Legolas whisked away one of the sheets, revealing a dressing table almost exactly the same as his own. The mirror stood framed with gold and silver leaves, the glass as clear and cleaned as though it had only been polished that morning. A brush and comb lay where they had been left, thrown haphazardly down, strands of black hair still stuck to the bristles. Next to them a small hand mirror lay, even though there was a large looking glass. It was face down on the table, half covered by a pair of gloves.
Moving aside the gloves, Legolas picked up the mirror. On the age old silver read the inscription, "To My Darling Prince Neldoreth Of Mirkwood, With Much Love, Culaeariel"
Legolas flung the mirror across the room, anger boiling up in his blood. The glass smashed as it hit a wall. He turned around to his siblings. Now there was no avoiding the fact. Urshak had been telling the truth. There were not six princes of Mirkwood, but seven.
"I cannot believe they kept this hidden from us!" he cried. The blonde turned around and thumped the wall with all his might. Astaler, Nuryávië and Nilwethion began to rip away more dustsheets revealing more and more evidence of their lost brother. Nilwethion shook his head in disbelief.
"This room could belong to any one of us," he whispered, "It looks as though it could still be lived in, though how long has that tapestry hidden it?"
"Longer than I can remember," hissed Astaler, his voice low and guttural. As Nilwethion watched, his brothers seemed to change, becoming dark and angry in a way he had never seen them before. Their eyes became almost black with a burning hatred and their pale skin seemed to glow slightly as though they were ghosts. Turning around they strode out of the room, leaving Nilwethion to collapse on to the floor trying to make sense of his world as it fell down around him, tears pouring silently from his eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A few floors down from where Nilwethion was curled up sobbing, King Thranduil sat in his throne, head in his hands. His beloved wife was still insisting her children were all dead, now believing Calensil to have left her, and was locked away in one of their chambers to save her from hurting herself or others. The healers had recently declared that she was insane. Nilwethion had become withdrawn, spending much of his time with Elrohir, although now the Imladris elf was with his parents in the garden. It was weeks since he had seen his other children, though it seemed longer. Months or years, the time had little meaning any more. Calensil sat on his knee silently. She was still covered in orc blood, as se had refused to wash after the day the orc had entered his halls, bringing dark tidings of his children.
Suddenly he heard doors banging. Lifting his head, he signalled to a guard to go and see what the cause of the disturbance was, but within moments the doors to the hall crashed open revealing Astaler, Nuryávië and Legolas. His heart lit up with joy and he jumped up from his throne, happiness carved on to his features. Calensil ran across the rooms, throwing herself in to their arms with a cry of joy.
"My sons!" he cried, "My sons have returned!"
He leapt across the room following in his daughters' footsteps, ready to embrace them, but the princes stepped back from him. It was then that the king saw the smouldering anger in their strangely dark eyes and their looks of hatred. He paused, unsure what to do.
"You never told us," growled Legolas
"Never told you what?" his voice was almost a whisper, hoping desperately that the young prince was playing some sort of trick on him.
"Neldoreth," replied Astaler.
The court froze. Elves standing around the room held their breath. Those old enough to remember Neldoreth gaped, memories flooding back to them after centuries of being hidden. Those too young to know who Neldoreth was, looked around, confused, but said nothing, the tenseness in the room pressing down on them. After what seemed like forever, the king spoke again.
"Neldoreth?"
"Yes, King Thranduil, Neldoreth. You ought to know him. Does the name mean nothing to you?"
Again, the king repeated the name, his voice weak. Legolas rolled his eyes.
"The name seems strange to you. Would you like us to refresh your memory?"
Thranduil opened his mouth, but nothing came out except a small, scared squeak. From Legolas' arms, Calensil looked around, confused. She clutched at his tunic, hoping to find comfort, but something was different about her beloved brother, and she did not like it. For the first time, there was no comfort in his arms. Astaler took over from Legolas, his harsh words stinging the king like whips.
"Neldoreth was your son, Thranduil of Mirkwood. The eldest. The crowned prince. He was sent out on a mission one day with a group of warriors and was captured by orcs. The orcs took him away to their lair where they beat him and tortured him for years before he finally became as twisted and evil as them. He waited to be rescued. Every night he prayed to the Valar that you would come and take him home, but you never did. You did not care anymore because the Queen was due with another child to take his place. Neldoreth was no longer needed, so he forsook the light and embraced the shadows. He began to detest his father, cursing him in the dark, wishing to kill the one who betrayed him. You. You betrayed our brother. He worked his way up to being a captain of the orcs. A true leader, training his orcs in the most effective ways possible. Elvish ways. Then, he began to hear rumours of the children of the king. His siblings, if you will. He wanted us to be on his side so desperately, king Thranduil. Did you know that? He did not want to hurt us, but to turn us in to great captains of his orcs so that we could rule them along side him. He still hates you. So do we, king of Mirkwood. You lied to us. You kept so many secrets from us, but still pretended to love us! You abandoned us though. Neldoreth told us. You sent nobody out looking for us, just as you did with him. You abandoned us, leaving us for dead. We hate you, king of Mirkwood. We hate you more than we can possibly say!"
As Astaler spoke, the king, though immortal, seemed to age beyond possible for elvish years. He lifted his hand to the princes, a tear forming in the corner of his eye, but they backed away from him.
"Astaler . . .?"
"Do not speak to me!" cried the prince, "Stay away from us!"
"Nuryávië . . .?"
The prince turned his head away from the king.
"Legolas . . .?"
The young prince stared at his father with intense hatred, still clutching Calensil in his arms.
"We found the room behind the tapestry, Thranduil. You did not think you could hide it forever did you? Nilwethion knows,"
"My children, you do not understand . . ." the voice of the king was broken and almost inaudible, but the three princes before him did not care. Even Calensil did not seem to be able to listen to him. Nuryávië cut across Thranduil angrily, his voice bitter. As he spoke, he drew the scimitar from its sheath at his side. Astaler mirrored his movements.
"Do not call us your children!" he cried, "We want nothing more to do with you!"
Then, in a swift movement, he dragged the scimitar across the palm of his hands to the gasps of the watching elves. Black flood flowed from the deep cut, covering his palm and dripping to the floor. Thranduil's mouth dropped open in horror. Beside Nuryávië, Astaler made a slit in his own hand to the same effect.
"I cannot do it," whispered Nuryávië, "I hate him, but I cannot do it,"
With that the princes turned and fled the room, Legolas still holding Calensil. As the king watched them running away from him, his heart breaking, Calensil looked over Legolas' shoulder and hissed at him, baring her teeth.
As soon as they disappeared, the king collapsed against the wall and wept.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Yet another dramatic chapter! I know the Imladris elves, Mithrandir and the elves still prisoners of the orcs will be back again next chapter, but all the energy of this chapter had to be concentrated on these three princes and the king or it probably wouldn't have worked. By the way, this chapter happens a couple of days after the last one, just incise anyone got confused.
Also, extreem apologies concerning the amount of time it took to get this chapter up and running. There were loads of problems getting the chapter uploaded, and it has taken me about a week to get it uploaded and fixed.
MAVERICK GIRL ~~ I feel bad for them too, but at the moment I feel worse for the king.
LEENA TOROS ~~ you can see what they did, and it wasn't very nice for either side, but no, they didn't have any wax in their ears. They heard Urshak fine.
TAMARA ~~ of course they care about Thellind and Oroweth! You're lucky they didn't hear you asking that! They just have so much stuff that's happening at the moment they aren't really getting time to think.
JUKIA WOLFCALL ~~ I'm not actually sure where the inspiration came from, it just came. I think I would get on very well with your muse.
IMBEFANIEL ~~ I see your point. Is the story being insane a good thing or a bad thing? I have a "to kill" list too! It includes Jerry the mouse (Tom 'n' Jerry), Harry Potter (stuck up brat!), Tweety Pie and Scrappy Doo.
SONY ~~ well in all honesty, I'm not sure how to get out of this one either. I'm still working on it, so any plot bunnies would be welcomed!
ELFAER GILIELL ~~ even though you probably won't get to read this, have a nice holiday!
PHEROWEN ~~ cute. Yes. I see you haven't read the more recent chapters yet.
LEXIE ~~ Why thank you!
PIRATE-CHICHA ~~ lol. Thank you very much! S.N.S.S.? I'm afraid that one thing these orcs aren't, is stupid. They don't think they've embraced the darkside, at least.
EBONY FALCON ~~ I think that right now the game of dares has been forgotten. They're concentrating a litte bit more on getting out of this situation alive. However, that is a very sweet little plot bunny that just hopped out of your arms. Maybe. Who's side though do you think is playing traitor though? The princes or the king?
The moon gazed down on the halls of Mirkwood's King, watching with interest as three dark, cloaked figures nimbly clambered up a wall covered in ivy and clambered in through a window. As they drew off their cloaks, they disappeared out of sight of the moon. A muffled cry came from the brightly lit room, but then stopped as sharply as it began.
"Nilwethion you fool! Ssh! It is only us!"
Legolas removed the blanket he had thrown over his brothers' head when the prince had cried out. Nilwethion looked at his three brothers in shock, his mouth gaping open. After a pause a few seconds, Legolas laughed.
"You ought to see yourself," he whispered, "You look as though you have seen a ghost!"
Words finally came to the astonished prince as Astaler and Nuryávië began walking around his room, taking in the robes and tunics scattered across the floor, the papers on the desk and the sharp, shinning elvish dagger and sword resting against a chair as if they had never seen anything like it before.
"You . . . you are . . . I thought . . ."
Legolas tilted his head, expecting a full sentence, but nothing came. Instead, he found himself being almost smothered in an embrace as Nilwethion leapt across the room and flung his arms around the lost younger brother with relief.
"I feared the worst! But Legolas . . . your clothes. You are dressed like an orc! Where is your tunic?"
The prince shrugged and looked down at the filthy attire given to him by Urshak. As he caught sight of himself in the large mirror gracing Nilwethion's dressing table he gasped. In the dungeon like rooms of the Mirkwood mountains, his filthy, blood matted, pale reflection with the dull white skin and tangled hair had seemed almost normal. Now his reflection stared back at him like a ghost, out of place in the clean and beautiful world of the elves. Legolas ripped away his orcish leather and cape, leaving them lying on the floor, and pulled one of Nilwethion's tunics over his head. Looking back at the mirror, he still looked just as out of place. Almost as though he was no longer Legolas of Mirkwood.
Hearing laughter from behind him, he looked around to see Astaler holding the silver dagger that had been resting by the chair. As he watched, Astaler pressed his finger against the sharp blade, like a curious child. A drop of blood spilled through the sudden cut and splashed on the floor. Black blood. Beside Legolas, Nilwethion gasped loudly. Astaler made another cut on his finger, as if to see what colour the blood would be. Again, the blood that dripped to the floor was black.
"Astaler, stop playing with the dagger," muttered Nuryávië from the other side of the room, "I wish to see if Urshak was telling the truth about Neldoreth."
The three princes so recently let free from captivity opened the door and peered along the corridor, as if checking to make sure nobody else was there. They slipped through the open door and Nilwethion stumbled after them, looking back at the black drops of blood on his floor.
"Where are we going?" he asked
"This is the third floor," said Nuryávië. Nilwethion nodded
"Yes, but you know that,"
He watched as the three princes counted the doors, and then opened one, seemingly at random. Next to the door was a large tapestry of a woodland party scene, stretching along the wall of the corridor. Nuryávië sighed with relief and shut the door again.
"He was lying then," he smiled, "To think I believed an orc!"
He and Legolas let out relieved laughs as Nilwethion looked from one to the other.
"Lying? What . . .? Who . . .?" again, the confused prince finished none of his questions. Everything suddenly seemed to be happening so fast. Only a few days ago he had killed the orc for saying his brothers were weak, and that they would be fine captains for the shadows, but now here they were, having clambered through his window in the attire of orc captains, telling him nothing and apparently believing orcs. As he opened his mouth to ask a question, Astaler interrupted him.
"Wait," he said
The other two stopped laughing as Astaler grabbed hold of the tapestry and pulled it, making it come crumpling down at his feet. Behind the centre of where the tapestry had hung was an ornate door with fancy hinges and a fancy door handle. They all gasped.
"Nilwethion, open the door and tell us what is inside," ordered Legolas, his voice suddenly quiet.
Nilwethion picked his way over the folds of fabric and pushed open the door. As he opened it, the ancient hinges creaked loudly.
"It is a large room," he called back, "There seems to be furniture in here, but it is all covered on white sheets. There are so many layers of dust!"
He took a step in to the room, followed by Legolas, Astaler and Nuryávië. Even the floor had a huge dustsheet over it. With a flurry of movement and dust, Legolas whisked away one of the sheets, revealing a dressing table almost exactly the same as his own. The mirror stood framed with gold and silver leaves, the glass as clear and cleaned as though it had only been polished that morning. A brush and comb lay where they had been left, thrown haphazardly down, strands of black hair still stuck to the bristles. Next to them a small hand mirror lay, even though there was a large looking glass. It was face down on the table, half covered by a pair of gloves.
Moving aside the gloves, Legolas picked up the mirror. On the age old silver read the inscription, "To My Darling Prince Neldoreth Of Mirkwood, With Much Love, Culaeariel"
Legolas flung the mirror across the room, anger boiling up in his blood. The glass smashed as it hit a wall. He turned around to his siblings. Now there was no avoiding the fact. Urshak had been telling the truth. There were not six princes of Mirkwood, but seven.
"I cannot believe they kept this hidden from us!" he cried. The blonde turned around and thumped the wall with all his might. Astaler, Nuryávië and Nilwethion began to rip away more dustsheets revealing more and more evidence of their lost brother. Nilwethion shook his head in disbelief.
"This room could belong to any one of us," he whispered, "It looks as though it could still be lived in, though how long has that tapestry hidden it?"
"Longer than I can remember," hissed Astaler, his voice low and guttural. As Nilwethion watched, his brothers seemed to change, becoming dark and angry in a way he had never seen them before. Their eyes became almost black with a burning hatred and their pale skin seemed to glow slightly as though they were ghosts. Turning around they strode out of the room, leaving Nilwethion to collapse on to the floor trying to make sense of his world as it fell down around him, tears pouring silently from his eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A few floors down from where Nilwethion was curled up sobbing, King Thranduil sat in his throne, head in his hands. His beloved wife was still insisting her children were all dead, now believing Calensil to have left her, and was locked away in one of their chambers to save her from hurting herself or others. The healers had recently declared that she was insane. Nilwethion had become withdrawn, spending much of his time with Elrohir, although now the Imladris elf was with his parents in the garden. It was weeks since he had seen his other children, though it seemed longer. Months or years, the time had little meaning any more. Calensil sat on his knee silently. She was still covered in orc blood, as se had refused to wash after the day the orc had entered his halls, bringing dark tidings of his children.
Suddenly he heard doors banging. Lifting his head, he signalled to a guard to go and see what the cause of the disturbance was, but within moments the doors to the hall crashed open revealing Astaler, Nuryávië and Legolas. His heart lit up with joy and he jumped up from his throne, happiness carved on to his features. Calensil ran across the rooms, throwing herself in to their arms with a cry of joy.
"My sons!" he cried, "My sons have returned!"
He leapt across the room following in his daughters' footsteps, ready to embrace them, but the princes stepped back from him. It was then that the king saw the smouldering anger in their strangely dark eyes and their looks of hatred. He paused, unsure what to do.
"You never told us," growled Legolas
"Never told you what?" his voice was almost a whisper, hoping desperately that the young prince was playing some sort of trick on him.
"Neldoreth," replied Astaler.
The court froze. Elves standing around the room held their breath. Those old enough to remember Neldoreth gaped, memories flooding back to them after centuries of being hidden. Those too young to know who Neldoreth was, looked around, confused, but said nothing, the tenseness in the room pressing down on them. After what seemed like forever, the king spoke again.
"Neldoreth?"
"Yes, King Thranduil, Neldoreth. You ought to know him. Does the name mean nothing to you?"
Again, the king repeated the name, his voice weak. Legolas rolled his eyes.
"The name seems strange to you. Would you like us to refresh your memory?"
Thranduil opened his mouth, but nothing came out except a small, scared squeak. From Legolas' arms, Calensil looked around, confused. She clutched at his tunic, hoping to find comfort, but something was different about her beloved brother, and she did not like it. For the first time, there was no comfort in his arms. Astaler took over from Legolas, his harsh words stinging the king like whips.
"Neldoreth was your son, Thranduil of Mirkwood. The eldest. The crowned prince. He was sent out on a mission one day with a group of warriors and was captured by orcs. The orcs took him away to their lair where they beat him and tortured him for years before he finally became as twisted and evil as them. He waited to be rescued. Every night he prayed to the Valar that you would come and take him home, but you never did. You did not care anymore because the Queen was due with another child to take his place. Neldoreth was no longer needed, so he forsook the light and embraced the shadows. He began to detest his father, cursing him in the dark, wishing to kill the one who betrayed him. You. You betrayed our brother. He worked his way up to being a captain of the orcs. A true leader, training his orcs in the most effective ways possible. Elvish ways. Then, he began to hear rumours of the children of the king. His siblings, if you will. He wanted us to be on his side so desperately, king Thranduil. Did you know that? He did not want to hurt us, but to turn us in to great captains of his orcs so that we could rule them along side him. He still hates you. So do we, king of Mirkwood. You lied to us. You kept so many secrets from us, but still pretended to love us! You abandoned us though. Neldoreth told us. You sent nobody out looking for us, just as you did with him. You abandoned us, leaving us for dead. We hate you, king of Mirkwood. We hate you more than we can possibly say!"
As Astaler spoke, the king, though immortal, seemed to age beyond possible for elvish years. He lifted his hand to the princes, a tear forming in the corner of his eye, but they backed away from him.
"Astaler . . .?"
"Do not speak to me!" cried the prince, "Stay away from us!"
"Nuryávië . . .?"
The prince turned his head away from the king.
"Legolas . . .?"
The young prince stared at his father with intense hatred, still clutching Calensil in his arms.
"We found the room behind the tapestry, Thranduil. You did not think you could hide it forever did you? Nilwethion knows,"
"My children, you do not understand . . ." the voice of the king was broken and almost inaudible, but the three princes before him did not care. Even Calensil did not seem to be able to listen to him. Nuryávië cut across Thranduil angrily, his voice bitter. As he spoke, he drew the scimitar from its sheath at his side. Astaler mirrored his movements.
"Do not call us your children!" he cried, "We want nothing more to do with you!"
Then, in a swift movement, he dragged the scimitar across the palm of his hands to the gasps of the watching elves. Black flood flowed from the deep cut, covering his palm and dripping to the floor. Thranduil's mouth dropped open in horror. Beside Nuryávië, Astaler made a slit in his own hand to the same effect.
"I cannot do it," whispered Nuryávië, "I hate him, but I cannot do it,"
With that the princes turned and fled the room, Legolas still holding Calensil. As the king watched them running away from him, his heart breaking, Calensil looked over Legolas' shoulder and hissed at him, baring her teeth.
As soon as they disappeared, the king collapsed against the wall and wept.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Yet another dramatic chapter! I know the Imladris elves, Mithrandir and the elves still prisoners of the orcs will be back again next chapter, but all the energy of this chapter had to be concentrated on these three princes and the king or it probably wouldn't have worked. By the way, this chapter happens a couple of days after the last one, just incise anyone got confused.
Also, extreem apologies concerning the amount of time it took to get this chapter up and running. There were loads of problems getting the chapter uploaded, and it has taken me about a week to get it uploaded and fixed.
MAVERICK GIRL ~~ I feel bad for them too, but at the moment I feel worse for the king.
LEENA TOROS ~~ you can see what they did, and it wasn't very nice for either side, but no, they didn't have any wax in their ears. They heard Urshak fine.
TAMARA ~~ of course they care about Thellind and Oroweth! You're lucky they didn't hear you asking that! They just have so much stuff that's happening at the moment they aren't really getting time to think.
JUKIA WOLFCALL ~~ I'm not actually sure where the inspiration came from, it just came. I think I would get on very well with your muse.
IMBEFANIEL ~~ I see your point. Is the story being insane a good thing or a bad thing? I have a "to kill" list too! It includes Jerry the mouse (Tom 'n' Jerry), Harry Potter (stuck up brat!), Tweety Pie and Scrappy Doo.
SONY ~~ well in all honesty, I'm not sure how to get out of this one either. I'm still working on it, so any plot bunnies would be welcomed!
ELFAER GILIELL ~~ even though you probably won't get to read this, have a nice holiday!
PHEROWEN ~~ cute. Yes. I see you haven't read the more recent chapters yet.
LEXIE ~~ Why thank you!
PIRATE-CHICHA ~~ lol. Thank you very much! S.N.S.S.? I'm afraid that one thing these orcs aren't, is stupid. They don't think they've embraced the darkside, at least.
EBONY FALCON ~~ I think that right now the game of dares has been forgotten. They're concentrating a litte bit more on getting out of this situation alive. However, that is a very sweet little plot bunny that just hopped out of your arms. Maybe. Who's side though do you think is playing traitor though? The princes or the king?