Durain ran.
How long he ran? He didn't know himself. But he knew it was a long time.
A long time..
How old had he become?
Were his parents looking for him?
What about Coro?
Durain sighed, looking into the mirror.
He was now a young man, about twenty years old. His wavy raven black hair were a little
past his ears, and his brown almond shaped eyes gazed at himself with distaste. Though
he was not poor, nor rich, he wore cloths of a farmer, like his father. Tall and very
handsome, he was the desire of all the women who lived around him, but only one had
his heart.
Almas.
They were betrothed.
She lived next door, and she was the face of beauty itself.
He lived in Perivor, the land of the Dal. In the city, he was known as Orian, and, having
learned swordsmanship from Sir Hassad, a man of the city, he was not a knight, but had
the talent for one.
Looking out of the mirror, he looked over his shoulder at Almas, the only one who knew
his true name, and what he was: a sorcerer.
"I ran away from home when I was sixteen." He said, telling his future wife of his past. "I
couldn't bare the way they all looked at me and Coro, as though either one of us were the
Cursed one." He sighed, looking back at the mirror, "I," he paused, lowering his eyes, "I
didn't want to tell you this until we were married, but I don't want you to marry me, then
realize my dark past."
He felt her eyes on his back and turned to look at her.
Looking into her large azure eyes, he melted, and gave her an ashamed smile. "Well,
anyway," he continued, "I ran away, and stole my way through life until I made my way
to this part of the world, and jumped into this ship that took me here. And here I am."
Almas stood, and approached him.
Being the daughter of a respected knight, she wore a gown the color of her eyes, her long
midnight black hair hanging open to her waist. Her marble white skin was pale, but when
she stood in front of him, she blushed slightly, and stroked back his hair out of his eyes.
"What is this Curse?" She asked, her heart in her eyes.
Durain scuffed, "I'm not so sure myself. All I know is that if a sorcerer has twins, and
they both are sorcerer's, that's not good. My grandfather said that everyone has an
opposite of himself or herself, and that one will not be.. 'good'. So, I left."
Almas didn't say anything, "My father," She said after a while, "had met your cousin---
Belgarion. He had unhorsed my father when he had come to this land and had broken
three of my father's ribs." Smiling, she said, "Memories are the things that make us
laugh, and remember our loved ones, Durain. You shouldn't lock them away, even from
yourself. It isn't right."
"Memory also brings back pain, Almas." He replied.
"Pain makes you cry, and to cry is to level out stress." She countered.
Laughing slightly, he bowed his head. "Sure." He agreed.
"I want to see the world Durain." She said after a moment of silence, turning away from
him to look out the window of Durain's house. "And I want you to come with me," she
chuckled, "this'll happen after marriage, of course. Then you'll HAVE to come with me,"
turning to him, she said, "right?"
Shrugging, he replied, "Whatever you say."
"Okay." She said. "The first thing I'd like to see though, is this Vale you grew up in."
He went pale, "No. I will never go back there, Almas."
"Why?" Almas asked, serious.
"I-I'm ashamed of myself." He replied.
"Is that all?" She said, "Durain, your mother may be immortal, but she is your mother.
Imagine how much pain she is in, not knowing how her son is. Not knowing if he still
lives, of is dead."
Tearing his eyes away from hers, he looked away, stubbornly.
"Durain." She said, commanding that he look in her eyes again, "Look at me." When he
finally did, she continued, "If you son ran away, young and helpless, would you just be
happy?"
"Almas, I don't need this." He said.
"You may not, but you mother may. What about your father? Your TWIN?"
There was silence then.
Turning on her heels, she marched to the door, "Well, I have to hurry to get my gown."
And left.
Gown.
He fell to his knees.
He was getting married in two days, without his family.
Clutching his dragon amulet, he shed a tear.
How could he tell Almas that he was the Cursed One?
Could he tell her that the Curse of the Twin's made him want to slaughter his own twin
brother? Even though he knew he loved Coro, and would die if anything were to happen?
************************************************************************
Coro smiled at his mother, handing over his newborn infant daughter to her.
He had named her Aranda.
His wife, Ulthanis, lay on the bed when he entered the room, her gray eyes closed, with
her wheat colored blond hair pulled back away from her face. She was from Cherek. He
had met her there when he had been looking for his brother.
Polgara gazed after her son, who shut the door behind himself and looked down at
Aranda, the baby girls honey brown eyes squinting.
Turning around, all her sorrows erased for that one moment, she smiled up at her golden-
eyed mother, tears of joy in her eyes, "Isn't she beautiful?" She asked.
Poledra looked down at the child, smiling.
Ce'Nedra, the Rivan Queen who had come to the Vale for the birth of her husbands
cousin's daughter, approached the child in Polgara's arms, and sighed, "Oh dear," She
murmured, "What a beautiful child."
Garion took his wife's tiny shoulders and moved her aside, and took her place to look at
the newborn, and sighed, "I forgot how babies look," he admitted, giving Ce'Nedra a
look, and winking.
Wide-eyed, Ce'Nedra blushed, "Sorry, one son and four daughter's are good enough for
your Majesty." She said icily.
Garion raised his eyebrow, but Polgara hushed them.
The door opened, and Coro entered the room again, his dark eyes bright.
Polgara handed his son his daughter, and led everyone out of the room, smiling at her
son.
Coro paid no attention to them, but stared in awe at his daughter, "Oh, your so tiny!" He
said, then to himself, he murmured, "Only if you were here Durain."
Shutting the door behind herself, Polgara gazed at Garion, who had his arm wrapped
around his Queens shoulder, then at her mother, who sat by the window, looking at her.
"When is father coming?" Polgara asked Poledra.
Poledra smiled sadly, "He's not coming until he finds him."
Garion looked away respectfully, leading Ce'Nedra out of the room.
Polgara sighed, "He hasn't been found for at least four year's, mother. He doesn't want to
come home, so let him live his life in peace. Why doesn't father just come home?"
"Durain is still your son, Polgara. Why he left so suddenly, we'll have to ask him. We
still have to discover who is the Cursed. Durain believes it is he. Let Belgarath find the
boy."
Polgara looked away, "He is dead to me, mother. He no longer is my son."
"Pol, you cannot disown your own blood." Poledra replied, her golden eyes burning.
How long he ran? He didn't know himself. But he knew it was a long time.
A long time..
How old had he become?
Were his parents looking for him?
What about Coro?
Durain sighed, looking into the mirror.
He was now a young man, about twenty years old. His wavy raven black hair were a little
past his ears, and his brown almond shaped eyes gazed at himself with distaste. Though
he was not poor, nor rich, he wore cloths of a farmer, like his father. Tall and very
handsome, he was the desire of all the women who lived around him, but only one had
his heart.
Almas.
They were betrothed.
She lived next door, and she was the face of beauty itself.
He lived in Perivor, the land of the Dal. In the city, he was known as Orian, and, having
learned swordsmanship from Sir Hassad, a man of the city, he was not a knight, but had
the talent for one.
Looking out of the mirror, he looked over his shoulder at Almas, the only one who knew
his true name, and what he was: a sorcerer.
"I ran away from home when I was sixteen." He said, telling his future wife of his past. "I
couldn't bare the way they all looked at me and Coro, as though either one of us were the
Cursed one." He sighed, looking back at the mirror, "I," he paused, lowering his eyes, "I
didn't want to tell you this until we were married, but I don't want you to marry me, then
realize my dark past."
He felt her eyes on his back and turned to look at her.
Looking into her large azure eyes, he melted, and gave her an ashamed smile. "Well,
anyway," he continued, "I ran away, and stole my way through life until I made my way
to this part of the world, and jumped into this ship that took me here. And here I am."
Almas stood, and approached him.
Being the daughter of a respected knight, she wore a gown the color of her eyes, her long
midnight black hair hanging open to her waist. Her marble white skin was pale, but when
she stood in front of him, she blushed slightly, and stroked back his hair out of his eyes.
"What is this Curse?" She asked, her heart in her eyes.
Durain scuffed, "I'm not so sure myself. All I know is that if a sorcerer has twins, and
they both are sorcerer's, that's not good. My grandfather said that everyone has an
opposite of himself or herself, and that one will not be.. 'good'. So, I left."
Almas didn't say anything, "My father," She said after a while, "had met your cousin---
Belgarion. He had unhorsed my father when he had come to this land and had broken
three of my father's ribs." Smiling, she said, "Memories are the things that make us
laugh, and remember our loved ones, Durain. You shouldn't lock them away, even from
yourself. It isn't right."
"Memory also brings back pain, Almas." He replied.
"Pain makes you cry, and to cry is to level out stress." She countered.
Laughing slightly, he bowed his head. "Sure." He agreed.
"I want to see the world Durain." She said after a moment of silence, turning away from
him to look out the window of Durain's house. "And I want you to come with me," she
chuckled, "this'll happen after marriage, of course. Then you'll HAVE to come with me,"
turning to him, she said, "right?"
Shrugging, he replied, "Whatever you say."
"Okay." She said. "The first thing I'd like to see though, is this Vale you grew up in."
He went pale, "No. I will never go back there, Almas."
"Why?" Almas asked, serious.
"I-I'm ashamed of myself." He replied.
"Is that all?" She said, "Durain, your mother may be immortal, but she is your mother.
Imagine how much pain she is in, not knowing how her son is. Not knowing if he still
lives, of is dead."
Tearing his eyes away from hers, he looked away, stubbornly.
"Durain." She said, commanding that he look in her eyes again, "Look at me." When he
finally did, she continued, "If you son ran away, young and helpless, would you just be
happy?"
"Almas, I don't need this." He said.
"You may not, but you mother may. What about your father? Your TWIN?"
There was silence then.
Turning on her heels, she marched to the door, "Well, I have to hurry to get my gown."
And left.
Gown.
He fell to his knees.
He was getting married in two days, without his family.
Clutching his dragon amulet, he shed a tear.
How could he tell Almas that he was the Cursed One?
Could he tell her that the Curse of the Twin's made him want to slaughter his own twin
brother? Even though he knew he loved Coro, and would die if anything were to happen?
************************************************************************
Coro smiled at his mother, handing over his newborn infant daughter to her.
He had named her Aranda.
His wife, Ulthanis, lay on the bed when he entered the room, her gray eyes closed, with
her wheat colored blond hair pulled back away from her face. She was from Cherek. He
had met her there when he had been looking for his brother.
Polgara gazed after her son, who shut the door behind himself and looked down at
Aranda, the baby girls honey brown eyes squinting.
Turning around, all her sorrows erased for that one moment, she smiled up at her golden-
eyed mother, tears of joy in her eyes, "Isn't she beautiful?" She asked.
Poledra looked down at the child, smiling.
Ce'Nedra, the Rivan Queen who had come to the Vale for the birth of her husbands
cousin's daughter, approached the child in Polgara's arms, and sighed, "Oh dear," She
murmured, "What a beautiful child."
Garion took his wife's tiny shoulders and moved her aside, and took her place to look at
the newborn, and sighed, "I forgot how babies look," he admitted, giving Ce'Nedra a
look, and winking.
Wide-eyed, Ce'Nedra blushed, "Sorry, one son and four daughter's are good enough for
your Majesty." She said icily.
Garion raised his eyebrow, but Polgara hushed them.
The door opened, and Coro entered the room again, his dark eyes bright.
Polgara handed his son his daughter, and led everyone out of the room, smiling at her
son.
Coro paid no attention to them, but stared in awe at his daughter, "Oh, your so tiny!" He
said, then to himself, he murmured, "Only if you were here Durain."
Shutting the door behind herself, Polgara gazed at Garion, who had his arm wrapped
around his Queens shoulder, then at her mother, who sat by the window, looking at her.
"When is father coming?" Polgara asked Poledra.
Poledra smiled sadly, "He's not coming until he finds him."
Garion looked away respectfully, leading Ce'Nedra out of the room.
Polgara sighed, "He hasn't been found for at least four year's, mother. He doesn't want to
come home, so let him live his life in peace. Why doesn't father just come home?"
"Durain is still your son, Polgara. Why he left so suddenly, we'll have to ask him. We
still have to discover who is the Cursed. Durain believes it is he. Let Belgarath find the
boy."
Polgara looked away, "He is dead to me, mother. He no longer is my son."
"Pol, you cannot disown your own blood." Poledra replied, her golden eyes burning.
