Child of stars, Archmage of Xadia, master of elements and keeper of lore long forgotten, yet there were still things that Aaravos had yet to understand.
Things like bread.
Even in the first days of Elarion, when the city lay battered by ice and the flower of dark magic first bloomed, humans had been obsessed with the stuff. A dietary staple that seemed to crop up at every meal: bread toasted over the fire, bread smeared with pastes and wrapped around meat, bread fried in butter and eggs, bread, bread, bread, bread.
He just didn't understand the appeal.
It had been almost a week since they had overthrown the young king and marked those humans who refused to join in Viren's crusade, and preparations were underway to begin the campaign on Xadia. Armor, horses, supply lines and training; even with magic no army ever marched in an instant. Aaravos knew this, but it didn't make the wait any easier.
His construct had been glibly passed off to Claudia by an exhausted Viren, the human mage staggering off to find his bed early after yet another pointless debate with one of his more outspoken councilors. The woman seemed to object to everything Viren did on principal, her arrogance causing rifts in the council and delaying the war on Xadia at every turn. Viren was being run ragged, and Aaravos was becoming more and more impatient.
Regardless, there was little he could do for now about this particular problem. Which brought him back to the particular quandary of the bread.
He had followed Claudia down to the castle kitchens, his construct perched atop her feathery paldron as they all gazed silently down at what seemed to be a vast and baffling array of tools, ingredients and magical reagents. Flour, eggs, salt, butter; all perfectly normal ingredients for making bread as far as he knew.
He couldn't imagine what she needed all those feathers for though.
Or that much sugar.
Or-why was that honey glowing?
Aaravos observed with interest as Claudia measured and mixed, laboriously grinding the feathers into a light rainbow powder and stirring them well with the sugar before dumping the entire bowl into the bread dough and mixing vigorously. Feathers, feathers. What would feathers do? The pale blue were from a Skywing elf, the air arcanum, perhaps... for texture? To make the bread soft and airy? Was bread supposed to be airy? He didn't know. The few times he'd had bread had been before the Bloom of Elarion. Cold had made it difficult to grow and harvest wheat and other grain and the human populace had taken to grinding bark and moss into their flour in order to make what little food they had stretch for as long as they could. The results tended to be unpalatable by even the most charitable standards, hard and bitter, almost impossible to chew on its own, with an unpleasant gray-green tinge that reminded him of mold and mildewed rock. He had eaten it at the time, mindful of how little his hosts had to begin with, and went to bed that night feeling as though his stomach was being torn from the inside.
Once Elarion had Bloomed the humans stopped using bark to make their flour, but Aaravos still couldn't bring himself to touch bread. What Claudia was making however, appeared to be an all together different sort of victual. She stirred the mix into a fine, creamy batter and poured a thin layer out into the pan, small blue, red and golden sparks gently drifting up from the batter as she softly chanted, eyes flickering black with the dark magic she called fourth.
"Tel ereht eb yoj, tel ereht eb ecaep, tel ereht eb epoh."
The thin layer of bread stuff slowly fried into a light golden wafer, steam gently wafting from the pan as it cooked. In his spectral form Aaravos could smell nothing, a boon when he had been keeping Viren company in his dingy little cell, it was now a limitation that sorely vexed him. He watched as Claudia deftly flipped the wafer and fried the other side, sliding it out of the pan and onto a little blue plate before pouring more batter and beginning the process again. Soon there was a short stack of the little wafers, a golden plateau that Claudia toped with cream, a dollop of the strange glowing honey and an assortment of berries. It didn't look like bread, it looked... good.
Aaravos tensed as his construct suddenly crawled forward, teetering precariously on the mage girl's shoulder, its tiny antenna quivering with interest as it scented the food.
"Careful there little bugga-boo, you don't want to fall off!" Claudia nudged the construct to a more secure perch, delicately stroking it's little purple horns with a careful finger. "I don't know- can you eat these or do you just want some berries? What are the rules for sparkly caterpillars?"
What indeed? Aaravos pondered the question. His construct could certainly be destroyed. In this state, it was as mortal as any creature under the stars, though imbued with some protective magics to make it a more resilient vessel for his power. It was also a living, or perhaps semi-living, creature. It might have been created, sustained and controlled by his magic, but it did posses it's own primitive drives. It enjoyed the bits of leaves and fruit Claudia fed it. Enjoyed the warmth and safety of it's little terrarium.
Would it enjoy the bread stuff?
Claudia speared a forkful of the stuff and waggled it enticingly at the little construct. Watching as it stretched toward the tidbit, little legs flailing as it tried to reach "What'cha think sparkles? Wanna taste test?"
Curiosity getting the better of him, Aaravos traveled the link to merge with his construct. Hesitantly sniffing at the proffered morsel, before taking a small, careful bite.
It was perhaps, like heaven.
Warm, sweet, butter and sugar and cinnamon, a nip of cream and strawberries all melting on his tongue like the first snowflakes of winter. It tasted nothing like the bark bread he'd had in Elarion. Trying to compare the two would be like trying to compare the culinary merits of chocolate verses shoe leather.
But more than those wonderful, fleeting physical sensations...it tasted like home.
Like his laboratory after a luxerious day of study.
Like long talks with his apprentices, their excitement at some new spell or experiment carrying the conversation long into the night.
Like the children of Elarion...safe, happy. Because of what he had done.
All gone now.
Abruptly Aaravos pulled back from the construct's mind, opening his eyes to find himself back in his own physical form, sitting cross legged on his bed. The air tasted dusty and stale, stuffy with the hot smell of candles that burned down to a puddle of wax only for him to remake them with the flick of his wrist, year after year after year. He reached up to rub eyes that had gone hot and scratchy from several days of under use and was surprised to find that his face was wet, faint tear tracks streaking down his cheeks.
Startled and disgusted with himself, he laughed, though even to his ears it sounded more like a sob. He hadn't cried in centuries, had thought the sorrow and grief had been burned from his heart by rage and the desire for vengeance... and yet here he was, weeping like a distraught child over ghosts that had been dead for centuries.
The humans' bread was a menace.
Straightening from his bed, he rolled his shoulders and padded to the large silver bowl that served as his wash basin, muttering curses and groaning as muscles stiff from inaction creaked and popped loudly in protest. Washing his face, focusing on the feel of cool water trickling down his face, bathing away all evidence of the tears, he struggled to center himself. Breath in, breath out...Calming, he dried his face and once more resumed his position on the bed, closing his eyes and seeking out that minut thread of connection that he shared with his construct and Viren's blood and using it to slip his own consciousness past the magical wards that bound him in his prison. Breath in...breath out...
He opened his eyes to see Claudia precariously balancing yet another strawberry atop what was now a teetering mountain of bread stuff, cream, berries and honey. It was absurd, and after a moment he felt the faint beginnings of a small smile creep across his face.
So much power, and yet she used it for something so simple...
And he couldn't fault her for it at all.
He looked on with interest as the mage girl finished her leaning tower of culinary chaos and prepared a steaming pitcher of what she had dubbed her "hot brown morning potion". To his surprise, the mixture required no magic, just some odd, dark beans that she ground up and then poured boiling water over. The resulting brew was black as pitch and smelled bitter in a way that was strangely enticing. A softly murmured spell saw the dishes clean, the castle chef squawking with indignation as plates and pans seemed to scour themselves in the blink of an eye.
He would have preferred to wash them himself?
Vaguely irritated, Aaravos followed Claudia as she put everything on a tray and slipped quietly through the castle corridors, ducking through secret passages and behind corners to avoid the multitude of stoney faced servants that seemed to roam the castle in droves. Seemingly the entire staff was piqued about the boy king's forced abdication. He couldn't entirely blame them, loyalty was an admirable trait. Sometimes though... sometimes sacrifices must be made. Soon they would understand that. The little king could be freed later, once the baby dragon was slain. Quite possibly it would even be better for the boy in the long run, no child should be asked to bear the weight of a crown.
They stopped at the door to Viren's rooms, darkness swarming thick in the hallway as Claudia paused to balance the tray on one hip before hesitantly knocking. "Dad? You awake?"
The door creaked open in a flickering beam of light to show a bleary eyed Viren, his hands tremoring slightly with fatigue where they clutched the handle of Aaravos's staff.
"Claudia? What's wrong? What happened?" He turned to Aaravos panicked, "Is the worm safe?!"
Aaravos could only shrug, flicking his ear with exasperation.
When will you learn?
"Dad? Your caterpillar is fine..." She smiled at him, extending the tray hopefully, "I wasn't sure if you'd eaten yet so I made crepes..." Viren looked at them blankly, uncomprehending.
"Dad?"
Viren?
"I don't- thank you, Claudia. But I'm not hungry." He looked at Aaravos, his eyes weary and bruised from lack of sleep. "Everything is fine?"
Aaravos could only roll his eyes. One day Viren might remember that they needed the construct to speak with one another, but today was clearly not that day.
"Everything is fine Dad but... you need to eat."
"Claudia I said I am not HUNGRY!" The girl flinched, blinking rapidly as she looked down at the tray, trying and failing to hide the pain in her eyes.
"I made them special for you."
It was such a small, sad sentence.
Viren sighed, groaning as he rubbed blearily at his eyes before picking up the fork, spearing one of the bread things. A crepe, Aaravos reminded himself. And shoving it bodily in his mouth. The effect was profound, his shoulders sagging, his tight expression easing as his eyes closed.
"Ahh, thank you that...I'm sorry. I've been so stressed recently that I- Thank you."
She smiled hopefully at him, "There's my morning potion too if you want it, I think I figured out the recipe so they'll counteract each other. The magic in the crepes makes you relaxed and sleepy and I haven't quite figured out how to stop the sleepiness yet but the potion is for staying awake so I thought-"
Viren held up one hand, cutting her off mid-sentence, "No, but thank you, I think I'm just going to try and get some rest for tonight." He glanced tiredly at the still mostly full tray, it's once artful stack of crepes now toppled, the jug of Claudia's potion still gently wafting steam into the air. "Why don't you give that to Soren? He's doing... something with food now right?"
"Um yeah, it's like a guard thing where they eat to build muscles or something. I think it's kind of specific though, he was drinking a bunch of raw eggs the other day which is really disgusting, but he said-"
"Claudia I don't- just see if he wants them okay? Goodnight."
"Okay... Goodnight Dad."
She turned to walk away, shoulders slumped, one hand reaching up to softly stroke the little purple caterpillar that still perched on her shoulder. Viren, his door already half closed, paused.
"Oh and Claudia?" She turned questioningly, her face brightening. "Put that thing back in it's box." He glared at Aaravos. "I don't want him following you around."
Really Viren? NOW is when you choose to worry about that? Inwardly Aaravos scoffed, torn between being amused and offended. He was bored and lonely, slowly being driven mad by his past failures and scheming to escape and reign fire down upon the people who had unjustly imprisoned him, but he was NOT a voyeur.
Claudia's face fell once more, her hand dropping down to grip the tray tightly. "Okay...Dad." Viren's door shut with a resounding 'click', plunging the young girl into darkness.
"Okay…" her voice, so small, so very, very sad; tugged at a part of Aaravos's heart that he'd thought he'd successfully smothered ages ago. She was in pain, the detached and eternal wisdom of the stars, his very nature decreed that he shouldn't care…but he did, and by the elements he could never explain why. Not even to himself. Claudia turned from her father's door, shoulders slumped dejectedly, tears welling up in her eyes as slowly felt her way down the dark hallway.
"Don't cry little mage." She didn't hear him, his voice no more than the sigh of wind to her unattuned ears, but with a whisper of power the little construct on her shoulder began to glow, soft white light, the light of the midnight star ascendant, spilling from the tiny star markings that covered its body and chasing away the darkness surrounding her.
"let there be joy, let there be peace, let there be hope."
The light glinted, reflecting the quiet wonder in the mage girl's eyes as the construct continued to glow like a constellation hung in the night sky.
"In time this too shall pass, as night becomes day and night again, as the tides roll high and low, as the stars are born and die, so too shall this pain give way to a new hope."
He knew she couldn't hear him, but something wounded in the girl's eyes slowly scarred as she gazed into the radiant light. "Thank you." The tiniest whisper, and yet in that moment it meant infinitely more than he could articulate it was a warm fuzzy feeling, much like when he had tried the crepe, but without the edge of pain that memories of Elarion had brought.
A new memory, for a new age; and perhaps…perhaps a new light to shine in the dark between stars, to guide humanity to its true potential.
He could only pray to the Elements that it would be so.