Leaning his head back against the carved black and red wall, Tharsis heaved a deep sigh. Though he was trained to withstand and survive the harshest and most dire situations, he lacked the virtue of patience. He was able to fight against the Burning Legion and clash swords with the Scourge in Northrend, but a simple act of waiting seemed impossible and unattainable; at least in his current situation. When the prospect of patience was applied to combat or battle, the commander was more than able to extend his tolerance. However, when it pertained to aspects of his personal life, the characteristic seemed to flee his body and mind; the annoyance and anger at waiting being ever present.

Unable to rouse his son, Tharsis had carried the young elf to the Sunfury Spire; the location of the priests and healing ward. The hour was late when he arrived at the palace, nearly half after three o'clock in the morning, though the priests were more than prepared for the emergency. Methodically taking Deimos from the commander's arms, the healers immediately ushered the unconscious elf into a private room; the last time Tharsis saw his son. Closing his eyes in irritation, it'd been nearly an hour since he brought the paladin in and still received no word, either good or bad from the healers. While the occasional priest would open the thick and solid silks that hung in the doorway to come and go, the older elf wasn't addressed or spoken too. However much he tried, he was unable to hear any noises in the small room; the strong silencing enchant around the doorway impeding the idea.

Sighing heavily while closing his eyes, Tharsis detested the healing wing in the palace. While he was more than familiar with the inside of the rooms, having ended up under the care of the priests multiple times, he despised the feeling of waiting. Unfortunately, he'd been in the situation before; the outcome heartbreaking and distressing. It was nearly twenty-one years ago that the commander sat on a similar carved wooden bench, his wits at end while he waited for information regarding his family member. However, his emotions then were different: they were a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and worry. Waiting for his wife to deliver his unborn son and unable to stand by her side during the difficult trial, Tharsis reluctantly waited in the hall. The ending to the story was a sad one; the druid emerging from the private room with a distraught and saddened look on his face.

"Tharsis! I got here as soon as I heard. I pray Deimos is unharmed."

His eyes snapping open at the new voice, the commander silently berated himself for allowing his memories to dominate his senses. Glancing in the direction of the sound, Tharsis' tired yet expressionless eyes met Lor'themar's worried and troubled ones. The Regent-Lord was adorned in similar attire to that of the older Ares'mar; wearing loose fitting night pants and a simple shirt. His long blonde hair cascaded freely down his back, the distinct lack of his usual half pulled back style giving evidence to the fast response time.

Standing up respectfully to address his superior, the commander gave a small nod in reverence; Lor'themar hastily returning the gesturing. "I haven't heard anything from the priests yet but he looked uninjured. He was unconscious when I found him."

Giving a hand motion to the intricately carved wooden bench in the dim lit hallway, Lor'themar spared a quick glance at Tharsis while they sat. The commander and Regent-Lord, having fought beside each other since before the Scourge attack on the city years ago and knowing one another growing up, always had a deep respect and honor of each other's combat style and fervor. Lor'themar admired Tharsis' enthusiasm on the battlefield; his ruthless and thorough reputation earning him his rank. The older Ares'mar respected the Regent-Lords zeal and passion to lead the torn Sin'dorei into a more prosperous future. One aspect of Tharsis' life, however, that Lor'themar found himself drawn to was his son; a feature that Brightwing took a particular liking in as well. Though he rarely got to see the boy, the leader enjoyed the company of the young elf, his fresh and eager attitude pleasing to Lor'themar. Watching Deimos grow and progress as both a paladin and elf since his birth, the leader felt a small attachment to him.

"What happened exactly? The guardians told me your house was broken in to."

Sighing heavily, Tharsis gave a tired shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not even sure. The attack must have been premeditated though; there was a human waiting in my bedroom for me."

His eyes roaming over the commander, Lor'themar was slightly taken back by the emotions filling his eyes. The usual angered and tough façade struggled to stay strong on Tharsis' face; worrisome and concern threatening to overtake his expression. "I took the liberty of having an investigation started immediately." Pausing to take in a gulp of air, the leader's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though we're still looking into it, the two bodies we found in your house both had trade coalition emblems."

Snapping his head up at the response, Tharsis narrowed his eyes at the other elf. "The slave traders? How would they know where to find Deimos?"

Running a hand over the nape of his neck, Lor'themar gave a small shake of his head. "Beyond me. But like you said, it must have been premeditated; they most likely stalked him for a couple days."

Pursing his lips in anger, Tharsis welcomed the angered feelings that quelled the worried and concerned ones. Strangely, he felt a swell of possessive and overprotective emotions sweep over his body at the thought of his son being watched and examined, ending with his attempted capture. "Were there any witnesses around the house that saw the humans enter?"

Smirking at the comment, Lor'themar shook his head with a cynical grin. "Everyone's either intoxicated or still celebrating. They picked a good night to attack." Breaking to glance around the empty and desolate corridor, the Regent-Lord offered the other elf a quiet chuckle. "If you didn't kill the intruders we could have possibly gotten answers to this problem."

"That wasn't really on my mind at the moment, sorry."

Lifting a brow up at the sarcastic and harsh remark, Lor'themar gave the commander a small grin; surprised by his reaction. "I understand."

"Commander Ares'mar?"

Whipping his head around, Tharsis met the gaze of Priest Aldrae leaning in the hallway with questioning eyes. His short and messy blonde hair contrasted sharply with his neat and tidy clothes, his face expressionless and unreadable. Having ended up in the healing ward on numerous occasions, Tharsis had become accustomed to the priests that resided in the quarter. While he was older than the commander, Aldrae had somehow preserved his humor and wit despite the hardship and suffering he saw during the Third War; a personality that would typically irritate Tharsis to no end. However, the commander held strong respect and honor for the priest. Though he had a jesting personality, the healer seldom allowed it to impede on his work; he took great pride in his occupation.

Standing up from the bench, Lor'themar mirroring the action, Tharsis raised a puzzled brow. "Yes?"

Scratching his disheveled hair, the priest darted his eyes between the two elves in front of him. "Do you want to speak in private on behalf of your son?"

Glancing at Lor'themar standing beside him, his expression passive, Tharsis gave a small shake of his head. The commander was fully aware of the relationship the Regent-Lord held with his son; a similar bond that Brightwing had. Though Deimos didn't spend as close to as much time with Lor'themar that he did with the ranger-general, the leader's eyes still softened when looking at him. "It's not needed. What happened to my son?"

Nodding firmly in response, Aldrae glanced down at a piece of parchment clutched between his fingers. "Whoever attacked Deimos inhibited him by administering a high and potent dose of a volatile agent; an anesthetic." Pausing to wait for any interruptions, the priest was thankful for the silence that followed. "I've consulted Camberon, an alchemist, to narrow down the type used. Based on his symptoms, it was most likely an inhaled agent with a muscle relaxant."

Shaking his head in impatience, Tharsis narrowed his eyes in irritation. "So is he fine?"

Having dealt with the commander on more occasions than he cared to admit, the priest knew how to effectively communicate with him; straight to the point. "We're not sure what the minimum alveolar concentration was in the anesthetic so we can't precisely determine any adverse effects. I'm administering intravenous therapy to flush his blood of the drugs. But until his system is clean, we can't establish if there's any toxicity. I'm going to keep him over night to monitor for Bradycardia and Myocardial depression; though based on his sympathovagal balance now, it seems unlikely he'll develop the disorders. He hasn't shown any symptoms for anaphylaxis so it's safe to say he's in the clear." Breaking to take in the blank and void looks on the two elves gazing back at him, Aldrae gave a warm smile. "Your son's fine, but I want to continue to watch his vitals until tomorrow."

Nodding at the lengthy response, Tharsis stared futilely into the private room; the thick silks obstructing his vision. "Is he awake?"

"He's not fully coherent but he is conscious."

"I want to see him."

Heaving a silent sigh, Aldrae was prepared for such a demand from the commander, knowing the order left no room for dispute. While his patient was indeed awake, his state required rest and respite for a full recovery; the idea of allowing Tharsis to impede disheartening. However, he knew the older Ares'mar wouldn't accept nor heed any further suggestions or proposals; his mind was set.

"You go ahead, Tharsis," Lor'themar began, watching the priest pull back the solid fabric that hung in the doorway to allow passage. "I'm going to check on the investigation. I'll be back in the morning to discuss it with you."

Nodding in both answer and thanks to the leader, Tharsis turned his gaze towards the small room, the priest standing by the door frame while holding the silks back. Stepping into an equally dim lit area, the commander's senses were assaulted with the smells of disinfectant and sterilization elixirs. The small space was windowless with sconces hanging on the walls emitting an icy arcane glow to the room that shined on the red tiled floor. On one side of the room was a long black counter, littered with medical instruments and parchment. Resting on the opposite wall was a square bed; the inhabitant the object of the commander's attention.

Stepping further into the room, Tharsis gazed at the young elf lying in the center of the bed with examining eyes. A crimson blanket pulled up to his hips, Deimos lay unmoving on his back; his eyes closed as if in a slumber. Slowly approaching the side of the bed, Tharsis took in his flaxen color before turning his attention to his son's right arm that rested slightly to the side of his body. Lying palm up, his limb had a small needle inserted at his elbow, two small pieces of tape holding a syringe in place. His eyes following the thin tubing running from the syringe to a clear fluid-filled glass jar hanging beside the bed, Tharsis watched a drop of liquid fall into the drip chamber at the base of the container. Turning his eyes back down at the young elf, the commander was surprised to see unfocused and half-opened eyes gazing back at him. Crossing his arms over his chest while he continued to examine his son, Tharsis shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "How do you feel?"

The question, though it seemed small and diminutive to the older elf, took Deimos great concentration and deliberation when considering an answer. His half-lidded eyes blinking several times to an attempt to focus on his father's face next to him, the paladin gave a small shrug. "Tired. Kind of in pain."

Ignoring the slurred tone, Tharsis lifted a brow at the reply, turning his head towards the priest to send a questioning look at him; his voice coming out harsh and demanding. "You said he was fine; why is he in discomfort?"

Glancing down at the chart resting in his hands, Aldrae disregarded the impatient and hard tone from the commander. "Muscle ache is a common side effect from the anesthetic and relaxants. It'll dissipate in a day or so."

Nodding in acceptance of the response, Tharsis glanced back down at Deimos; who continued to struggle to grasp onto consciousness. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

Brows together in concentration, the young elf willed his thoughts and memories to cooperate with the request. His mind was fuzzy and muddled, reluctantly complying with his demands to replay the night. Swallowing hard, Deimos glanced up at his father's waiting and expressionless face, putting great effort into focusing on the older elf. "I…I…not really. Remember an Undead, and that's all."

Squinting his eyes in thought at his son's words, Tharsis felt agitation and discomfort swell in his chest; he didn't see any Undead in or around the dwelling. While it was a possibility that Deimos' recollection was compromised from his incoherent state, the chance of missing a slaver in his home only increased his unease tenfold. "An Undead? Was it in the house?"

Closing his eyes in an attempt to gather his jumbled thoughts, Deimos knew it was in vain. Already fighting to stay awake, his body simply wouldn't cooperate with another demand. "Don't remember. Sorry."

Eyeing the young elf's fatigued face, Tharsis concealed his annoyance and frustration at him with a blank look. While he understood that the boy wouldn't be at his most coherent state, he still clung onto hope that his mind would be fresh with the memory. Unfortunately, it seemed the opposite. Sighing at the situation, the commander knew he would be forced to wait to gain better information from the paladin. Allowing his harsh stare to soften as Deimos opened his tired eyes to meet his gaze, Tharsis uncrossed his arms. "Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

Shifting slightly in the bed as much as his hindered arm would allow, Deimos narrowed his weary eyes at the older elf; clearly ignoring the order. "What...happened?"

Pursing his lips in dissatisfaction at the question, Tharsis gave a deep sigh. "Like I said, I'll talk with you after you've rested. You're most likely not going to remember this come tomorrow anyways."

Watching the younger elf's eyes close, Tharsis turned his attention to the priest scribbling on the chart clutched in his hand. "When can he be released?"

Taking a moment to ponder the question with haste, Aldrae darted his eyes over the parchment in front of him. "Probably around noon. The majority of the drugs should be flushed out of his system by that time; though I highly suggest holding off on physical exercise for a couple days."

Nodding in agreement, the commander moved towards the doorway. The adrenaline and excitement from the night was quickly wearing off, his body beginning to feel the fatigue and exhaustion in his movements. However, he knew sleep wouldn't come easy for him at the house; the memories of the intruders to fresh in his mind.

"Thank…you."

The quiet and slurred words causing his movements to halt, Tharsis turned towards the voice behind him. Meeting Deimos' fatigued gaze, the commander raised a questioning brow. "For what?"

The question seemed to throw the paladin off guard, his already muddled stare attempting to decipher the inquiry. Giving a small shake of his head, Deimos offered his father a wavering grin. "Saving me."

His eyes roaming his son's face, Tharsis was gave a firm and brisk nod of his head in response. "Get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow."

Not bothering to look back to see if Deimos complied with his order, the commander hastily departed the small room; the situation putting him in more unease. While he was annoyed and frustrated at the position Deimos placed himself in, he couldn't quell the feelings of relief and reprieve at his son's safety. Though he planned on exchanging words with the paladin regarding the matter, the situation could have ended grimmer. There were many unanswered what-if scenarios; what if Tharsis didn't get to Deimos in time, would he have ended up a sold slave? What if the anesthetics were more potent than intended? Would the boy have slipped into a coma, or worse, death? Shaking his head, the commander ran a hand through his hair. Pondering such notions were pointless and inane; his son was well and healthy, a small miracle the Light or someone watching out had granted him.

"I went to the Bazaar today and ran into Phobos. He seems quite excited for his new promotion."

"Yeah, that he is." There was a pause. "I don't want you going to the Bazaar alone in your condition."

Laughing jovially at her husband's stern tone, Tavia smacked a fair hand into his firm chest. Resting beside Lake Elrendar, the married couple sat against a broad redwood. Though Quel'Thalas was enveloped in a bitter winter, the wife was adamant on spending time in the outdoors. Laying a protective hand on her swollen belly covered with warm fabrics, the female elf smiled warmly while looking down at the unborn infant. "And what condition am I in, my love? I'm not an invalid."

Sighing deeply, Tharsis hesitantly rested his own hand on the large bulge. "The druid said your due date is around this time, Tavia. I don't want you putting too much strain on yourself or the elfling. You'll need your strength."

Rolling her eyes at the firm voice, she gingerly picked at the frozen blades of grass littering the ground around her. The tranquility and serenity the lake offered drew her to it, Tharsis reluctantly allowing her to venture into the wintered environment only after donning layers of clothing. "We're fine. Amerdar says both me and Deimos are as healthy as can be."

Lifting a brow, the commander gave her a quizzical look. "So, are we in agreement then? 'Deimos', is it?"

Turning her loving gaze to her husband, Tavia offered him a warming smile while rubbing her belly. "It just seems right. I talked with Phobos about him as well; he says the name is fitting."

"Oh, well if my nephew finds the name acceptable, by all means."

Playfully hitting the commander at his sarcastic remark, she shook her head with amusement. Abruptly, her face lost all remnants of its mirth to be replaced with a serious expression while she placed both hands on her tummy. Immediately, Tharsis was at her side, his concerned and worried eyes darting between her face and the unborn elfling. "Tavia! What's wrong? Is it time?"

Smiling at his anxious and fretful voice, the wife slowly shook her head, her hands beginning to massage her abdomen. "Relax, my love. It was only a kick. He's been very restless lately."

"Maybe we should return to the city and talk with Amerdar. It's quite cold out; perhaps the temperature has-"

Placing a finger on her husband's lips to shush him, Tavia smiled with amusement. "Amerdar knows already. He says it's probably because I'm so close to my due date; nothing's unusual about it."

While he relaxed considerably, Tharsis skeptically and hesitantly moved back to his position beside his wife. "It's still hard to believe so much time has passed. It feels like it was only the other day you told me you were carrying an elfling; now it's nearly time for him to be born."

"This time in a week, we'll probably be holding him."

The comment shocking him to his soul, the commander turned his gaze at his unborn son in deep thought. "I'll finally be able to meet him; put a face to the name."

Smiling at the longing and loving look in her husband's gaze, Tavia caressed his fair cheek, smirking at the stubbles of hair that tickled her hand. "You'll be a wonderful Ann'da. He's blessed to have such a caring father." (dad).

"Yeah, until he reaches that annoying age when he hates us both."

Biting her lower lip in thought at the jesting comment, the wife glanced down at her belly in contemplation. "I'm sure even then he'll still love us." Pausing to send a mirth-filled gaze towards her husband, she gave him a gaiety smile. "And will you love him any less even at that stage of his life?"

His voice losing any evidence of mirth or tease, Tharsis turned solemn eyes to meet his wife's tranquil ones. Rubbing a hand over his unborn son, the commander brought the other to stroke Tavia's fair and soft cheek. "Just as I promised you on our wedding day, I will always care for and protect our son."

Snapping his head up from his slumber, Tharsis glanced around his surroundings wide eyed; slightly taken back from the vividness the dream possessed. His eyes roaming the familiar library, he ran a hand over his tired and strained face; the memory making his mind run. Sitting at the desk covered with its usual stacks of reports and intel, the commander had given up on sleep when it refused to come to him after he returned home. Reading through the mounds of parchment, his mind anywhere but on the accounts he was trying to comprehend, Tharsis succumbed to the fatigue that plagued his body. Noticing the sunlight enveloped the room from the elevated and high windows, the elf spared a glance at the small clock resting on the edge of the desk. Surprised at the ending morning, Tharsis stood on shaky legs.

With noon fast approaching, the elf had little time to shower and dress in preparation to get Deimos from the Sunfury Spire. While he felt a small pang of annoyance in his chest at not being present for when his son would awaken with coherence to answer questions, he felt stronger, more predominant emotions overwhelming the irritation; shame and remorse. The memory from nearly twenty one years ago stirred up feelings and thoughts that he fought so hard to destroy and forget. Pushing the silks open in the library doorway and turning to ascend the ramp to the second floor, the commander clearly remembered the memory that filled his dream. Only a day before his wife's death and Deimos' birth, it was the last full day he spent with her. While the memory carried sadness and grief, it also harbored pleasure and bliss. He easily recalled the eager and happy feelings he felt then, of holding his elfling in his arms, his beautiful wife sitting closely beside him. However, life wasn't as kind to him.

Reaching his bedroom, Tharsis pulled back the silks to enter his chambers with bitter feelings. A day that should have been celebrated and joyous was instead overpowered with distress and anger; the news of his wife's death drowning all other thoughts and emotions. He remembered with ease how he told Amerdar, the druid who attempted to save his wife's life, to send the elfling to the Shattrath orphanage. He had no inclination or desire to lay his eyes on his son, his wife's death to near to consider caring for their elfling together. It was Brightwing, who sat beside him throughout the ordeal, who convinced him otherwise.

Stepping into the ornately decorated bathroom, Tharsis sighed while he ran a hand over his face in dismay; he had broken the vow to his wife. Always staying distant and cold to the boy while raising him, he rarely exchanged words of care or love with him. Instead, he brought Deimos up as a soldier, treating him as though he were in his battalion. The paladin was officially conscribed into the military at the age of nine; though his swordsmanship was on par with elves a hundred years older. While he looked at Deimos in a different light than the others in his company, Tharsis knew the boy didn't receive the lifestyle his wife longed for him to have. Deprived of the kindness and love he ought to get from his parent, Deimos clung and begged for any acceptance and approval the commander would sparingly offer him. While he was deadly and proficient on the battlefield, the young elf lacked the needed attachment and bond with a parent, causing his psyche to be compromised and devastated.

Leaning against the porcelain basin in deep thought, Tharsis heaved a deep sigh. The protection he failed to give his son extended far beyond emotional but also physical distraught. He pushed Deimos into battle at a young age and continued throughout his life. He couldn't count the numerous days after a bloody battle he didn't seek out the boy's safety; keeping his mind busy with other duties while his son painfully lay in a healer's tent. The paladin's current position was more damning evidence in his inability to follow through with the promise to his departed wife to protect their elfling. Glancing at himself in the large mirror that hung on the wall, Tharsis, for the first time in his life, felt guilt, anger, and disgust at himself. He had ruined the one aspect of his life that Tavia left in his care, her dying gift to her husband. The boy detested and despised him; the fault falling on him. He deprived the boy of any attachments and relationships, claiming them useless; a notion he assumed after losing his wife and the grief becoming difficult. Swallowing hard, Tharsis was set and determined to salvage the bond with Deimos. While he lost his wife, he refused to lose the promises and vows he made to her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling from the elevated piece of furniture, Deimos allowed a small sigh to pass through his lips. While his thoughts were no longer clouded and fuzzy, his body carried a dull ache that offered him more annoyance than pain. His limbs were lethargic and protestant to move where he commanded them to; a stiff feeling in his muscles frustrating him. Though his mind was clearer, his memories still seemed jumbled and confused. While he could recall the assault from the midst of the night, he had a vague recollection of his father's face. The freshest and clearest memory was waking up in the healing ward, his arm connected to a syringe and Priest Aldrae checking his heart rate. Though he still sat with the needle stuck in his limb, the arm resting protectively close to the hanging glass container, Deimos felt slightly more alert and awake. His fingers hesitantly probing the foreign object stuck in his skin, the paladin found the whole notion of the equipment odd. Usually unconscious when such utensils were used on him, he rarely got to witness the equipment in action.

"Don't touch that."

Snapping his head up at the familiar voice, Deimos' surprised eyes met Tharsis' calm and passive ones. Eyeing his father push the silks back to enter the room further, the young elf grudgingly complied with his demand; his hand falling limply to the side.

Examining his son under a firm gaze, taking in his disheveled hair and pajamas he still wore from the night prior, the commander was satisfied to find the boy alert. Content that he was healthy, Tharsis turned to the priest leaning over a piece of parchment on the counter opposite to the bed. "Aldrae, is he able to be released?"

Lifting his head up at being addressed, the priest gingerly approached the sitting elf with a warm smile. "His vitals are well. How do you feel, Deimos?"

Nodding at the question while the priest probed his fingers around the paladin's neck, expertly applying pressure to his digits on the young elf's lymph nodes. Trying to remain still and compliant at the examining hands, Deimos gave a small swallow. "I feel fine."

Moving his probing hands to the elf's bicep, the priest felt a small smirk dance across his face; he knew he should've expected such an answer from his young patient. While Deimos was a more compliant and easier patient, he possessed the same disregard for his wellbeing as Tharsis did; inheriting more traits from his father than strictly appearance. Digging his trained fingers into the muscle, Aldrae kept his gaze watching the paladin's facial expression, not the least bit surprised at the small wince that crossed his features. "Feel any discomfort?"

"A little."

Nodding, Aldrae spared a quick glance at Tharsis, his impatient stance and annoyed eyes boring into the priest. Chuckling quietly at the solemn expression yet concerned eyes, the older elf turned to the counter to retrieve a small wad of gauze. "You're going to feel some muscle pains probably for a day." Moving over to his young patient, the priest hastily glimpsed at the commander. "Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids for the next twenty-four hours; it's important to flush out whatever may be lingering in his system."

Pausing as he peeled the two small pieces of tape off the paladin's skin, Aldrae expertly gripped the base of the syringe with one hand while applying pressure to the skin where the needle rested under. Taking in Deimos' tensed posture, the priest sent him a reassuring smile. Slowly pulling back on the syringe, the needle coming cleanly out of the elf's arm, Aldrae was quick to firmly place the gauze on the area. Focusing on the bleeding incision for a moment, the priest removed the cloth to inspect the newly healed skin.

Disposing of the syringe and needle accordingly, the priest turned his eyes back at the commander; who stood waiting with growing impatience "No drills or physical exercise for a couple days. Don't be surprised if he sleeps the rest of the day either."

Taking the comment as an indication that he was free to leave, Deimos pushed himself off the bed; his bare feet making contact on the cold tile with a soft thud. Though the impact from the landing caused his leg muscles to send small aches up his body, he was sure to keep his face impassive and blank; fully aware of the scrutinizing gaze from his father. Nodding in thanks to the priest who dully watched him move across the room, Deimos raised a questioning brow to the waiting commander as he shifted nervously from the stare.

"Do you want to talk here or at home?"

Offering a thick cloak that was rolled up under an arm to the boy, Tharsis allowed his eyes to continue to examine the shorter elf; taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes and slumped posture. "At home."

Nodding as he pulled the piece of clothing around his broad frame, the paladin hastily clasped the front of the cloak together. Darting his eyes to see if he father had brought any other provisions for him, he was rewarded with seeing the commander's empty hands. Not allowing disappointment at the thought of having to walk bare foot through the district show on his face, Deimos gave a small swallow. Looking expectantly at Tharsis, he was taken back by the overtly investigative and exploratory gaze that roamed his body; making his discomfort increase. The thought of receiving the lecture that was sure to come was enough to make him anxious, but the strange look put him on edge. Cocking his head to the side in confusion, the young elf was surprised at the bizarre and foreign emotions that consumed his father's eyes. "Ann'da, is something wrong?"

The question seemed to break him from his reverie, Deimos surprised when his father gave a brisk shake of his head and hastily left the small room. Blinking in shock at the peculiar reaction, the young elf was unsure how to respond accordingly. The glint in his father's eye was foreign and strange; the young elf fully expecting to see anger and fury. The lack of the usual emotions made him nervous, unsure how to react to the odd behavior from the older elf. Sighing to himself, Deimos quickly left the small room to catch up with Tharsis; damning himself to finding out the reason for the manners.

"Go to your room. I'll be up to talk with you in a moment."

The quiet and solemn voice taking him by surprise, Deimos halted his movements, the wool cloak hanging limply in one hand. Standing in the majestic foyer to their home, the young elf felt his mind beginning to reel at all the possible hidden meanings behind the words. If he was on the receiving end of a long-winded lecture, his father usually pulled him into the library; his fierce and loud yells booming off the elevated ceiling while the young elf kept his head dutifully down. A faster reprimand and talk would commence in the foyer, short yet harsh words being exchanged. Though the time was significantly less than the lecture in the library, the words said were usually cruel and brutal; causing more damage than the shouts of anger and occasionally accompanied with physical contact. The last, and particularly worse scenario was being lectured outside or on the training grounds. Watching his father adorn his weapon, the paladin knew the severe outcome to such retribution. However, being ordered to his room was a unique and new occurrence; his thoughts unsure how to react.

His feet plastered to the floor, Deimos watched his father turn towards the kitchen. "We can talk in the library."

Glancing over his shoulder at the young elf, Tharsis gave a firm shake of his head. "No."

The unyielding and hard voice not leaving any room for argument or other thoughts, Deimos reluctantly moved towards the ramp as the commander entered the kitchen. Reaching the second floor, the young elf felt his apprehension at being cornered in the small room increase with unease. Though he was sure his father wouldn't necessarily kill him, or even punish him severely for the events that happened in the dead of the night, he couldn't quell the nervousness at the unknown. The unfamiliar and strange look in his father's eye back at the palace made his fretfulness amplify. Hearing movement below him, Deimos increased his pace; he'd have to prepare for the discussion.

Reaching his room in a brisk walk, the paladin first visited his bathroom to refresh himself. Feeling slightly more comfortable at his empty bladder, the young elf quickly reached the side of his bed; searching for the object that he knew was there. Kneeling beside the bed, he gently lifted the mattress to retrieve the small dagger he kept concealed. Brows together at the empty space that mocked him, Deimos hoisted the mattress up further in an effort to frantically search for the weapon. While he could rely on one of the many swords that hung on the wall, he wouldn't be able to discretely arm himself. Keeping the sharpened dagger under the mattress for years, the intruders must have removed it prior to attacking him. Growling in aggravation at the missing weapon, the paladin slammed a fist on the marbled floor.

"Perhaps you should have kept this under your pillow; like I trained you to."

Dropping the mattress back to the bed in surprise, Deimos turned to the voice. Leaning against the doorframe, Tharsis lifted the small dagger; a firm look on his face, yet a small sadness in his eyes. His other hand held a glass full of water. His cheeks flushing a deep scarlet, the young elf gave a deep sigh while he stood to his feet. "Can I have it back?"

Regarding his son in front of him for a second, Tharsis moved to the edge of the bed. Carelessly lifting the mound of pillows, he placed the shined dagger at the bottom, replacing the plush pillows to rest on top of it. Sending his son a pointed look, the commander approached the desk to place the glass on top of it. "Remember to drink a lot of water today." Pausing to take in the nervous stance his son assumed, Tharsis felt a pang of guilt swell in his chest. He knew Deimos was panicked and frightful from the years of harsh punishments and treatment he received from him. Motioning to the bed, the commander leaned against the desk while crossing his arms. "Get into bed. I want you to rest while I talk with you."

Not moving for several beats, the order throwing him off guard, Deimos reluctantly complied. Ripping back the made bed, he hesitantly pulled the Frostweave blanket up to his hips. Refusing to allow his posture to relax and dismiss his defenses, the paladin propped himself up on his elbows while he waited. Having received more lectures than he cared to admit, he knew they ended all the faster if he remained quiet throughout them. The young elf had an idea where the talk would be headed; discussing his failure as a soldier and disappointment as a son, his inability to protect and defend himself, and of course, the 'needed' increase in drills to help perfect and correct his errors.

Satisfied when his son was lying in bed, Tharsis narrowed his eyes at him in frustration, a finger pointed at him. "Had you kept that dagger under your pillow you may have been able to fight that human off." Pausing as Deimos only offered a small nod in response, his face blank and compliantly tilted forwarded, the commander heaved a deep sigh and ran a hand over his face. However much he willed it to remain, the strong façade was quickly fading. Shaking his head, his voice came out in a quiet manner, laced with concern. "You have no idea how dangerously close you came to being taken."

Lifting his gaze at the distressed tone, Deimos turned his head to the side in curiosity at his father's peculiar behavior. "I know. I'm sorry."

Taking a step forward, Tharsis hardened his gaze at the boy, his jaw clenched in rage. "No, Deimos, you don't. What if I didn't get to you in time? What if the person in my room actually put up a fight and the human took you before I could stop him? Where would you be now, Deimos?"

The older elf's voice escalating in pitch, the young Sin'dorei dutifully gave a small shake of his head. While the yelling was customary, the concerned and worried tone was not. "I-I don't know."

Pursing his lips in anger, the commander gave a furious shake of his head. "Who knows where you'd be, really. Sold for hard labor; likely. A sex slave; maybe. But you should have easily identified that human before he attacked you."

Ignoring the last comment, Deimos had great difficulty wrapping his mind around his father's words. Opening and closing his mouth in utter shock and astonishment, the paladin couldn't seem to find the right words to say. "Slave? What are you talking about?"

Hardening his stare at his son's blatant ignorance, Tharsis gave a frustrated sigh. "The humans were identified from the trade coalition. I can only imagine where you'd be now had I not intercepted." Pausing to take in the stun and horror that spread on the paladin's face, he was quick to continue his speech, his voice not wavering in intensity. "But as I said, you should have been able to know that human was in your room long before he attacked you. Had your senses not warned you?"

Blinking several times at the question, Deimos willed his mind to comprehend the new-found information. However much he tried, he couldn't quite understand his father's words to him; the dreadful events increasing in horror. "Trade coalition? I thought they were taking elves from Murder Row?"

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other in annoyance, Tharsis set his jaw. While the shocking news to the boy was to be expected, it was sincerely impeding on his lecture. "They must've been watching you. But you're missing the point, Deimos." Narrowing his eyes at the boy with an intense stare, the commander took notice of the younger elf's torso tense under the gaze. "Did your senses not give you any forewarning for the attack?"

Averting his eyes for a second to consider the older elf's words, Deimos gave a sheepish shrug. "I'm not really sure. I was so tired that I think I just brushed off any weird feelings." Noticing his father scowl deeper at the response, the young elf was quick to continue. "But I'm not all that good with recognizing my… intuitions, I guess. I had something similar happen in Stormwind when I got stabbed."

"You were stabbed?"

Tilting his head away from the grimacing and unforgiving stare, Deimos missed the concerned and disturbed emotions pass over his father's face. "Yeah but I was fine; Warren got me to the priest in time for him to resurrect me."

Eyes roaming his son's downcast face, Tharsis failed to detect any evidence of humor or jesting in the boy's words; his anxiety only escalating. Shaking his head incredulously and in disbelief, his couldn't conceal the harsh and cynical tone in his language. "And pray tell, what else happened in Stormwind?"

Shrugging calmly in an attempt to make light of the situation, Deimos silently replayed all that did take place in the human city; saving the heir, blacking out in a drunken stupor, fighting beside the humans against the Horde, and shamefully drinking demon blood. "Nothing important. So, the slavers found me?"

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Tharsis was determined to rip the information from his son one way or another eventually. However, the boy was right in attempting to bring the conversation back around to the original topic; delving into the specifics of what occurred at Stormwind would have to wait. "It would appear so. If they're keeping an eye on you, I don't want you walking around Silvermoon without someone with you."

Unable to stop himself, the young elf felt a frustrated sigh pass through his lips. Whatever small freedoms and liberty he retained were being ripped away; the notion of more suffocating rules agitating him all the more. "If I'm not safe here, why don't I just stay in Stormwind? I'm sure Warren would be more than glad to-"

"You really think I'd allow you back there after you just told me you were stabbed, and only Light knows what else?"

Quick to cover a yawn with the back of his hand, Deimos felt his weight beginning to become overbearing for his elbows to support. "Fine. So you're going to watch me day and night?"

Cocking his head to the side in displeasure at the sarcastic and impatient manner from his son, Tharsis lifted a brow. "For one who was carried into the healing ward unconscious, I would expect a better attitude."

A shameful blush reaching his fair cheeks, the young elf sent his eyes down to the blue comforter on his bed. Brushing his fingertips along the cerulean trim, he felt an intense stare boring into him uncomfortably. "I-I'm appreciative for what you did. Hell, you're probably right; I don't even want to imagine where I'd be if it weren't for you." Pausing to choose his words delicately and with great care, Deimos swallowed hard while meeting his father's curious eyes. "But you can't expect me to rely on a babysitter for Light knows how long. I give you my word that I won't step foot in Murder Row, and it's not as if I stay out past my curfew. Other than time in the house, I spend most of my waking hours with you anyways. But please, I don't need to be escorted around the city like some child."

"And take a chance of repeating last night? No. I stand firm on this, Deimos. You can beg and complain all you wish, but I won't yield. You will be in the presence of another at all times, you're restricted from Murder Row, you're not to train alone, and if you're practicing with the paladin trainer, I want you in this house no later than five o'clock."

Mouth slightly open in shock and annoyance, the young elf narrowed his gaze in anger. "I'm not an elfling! Yes, I screwed up last night; that was my fault and I'm willing to accept punishment for it. But you're being unfair and excessive, Ann'da. Had I been more awake and alert, I could have easily held my own against that human. Can we compromise? My curfew can be six o'clock and no constant supervision."

Growling in frustration and impatience, the commander shook his head. "I won't tolerate your juvenile behavior any longer. You will abide by the rules I set forth." Pausing to take in the angered and contempt packed glare from the younger elf, Tharsis continued with a softer tone. "These policies aren't permanent, Deimos. I'm hoping this issue is dealt with in a month or so; then you're previous rules will go back into effect. But until then, I expect complete obedience from you. Understood?"

Shaking his head in an effort to clear his furious thoughts and emotions directed at his father, Deimos sent his eyes to the side in rage. "Fine."

Sighing at the brazen attitude, Tharsis took in the younger elf's face plagued with fatigue and anger; the latter most likely resulting from the first. Picking up the cold glass of water resting beside him, the commander carefully approached the bed; his eyes examining the paladin with scrutiny. He didn't expect the discussion to tide over well with his son; his natural tendency begging for more freedom instead of the loss of it. However, Tharsis also was aware of his paternal responsibilities and duties to the boy to protect him, however much it was detested by him. Taking note of his infuriated posture and lack of eye contact, the commander knew his son well enough to recognize when he was sulking. Reaching the side of the bed, Tharsis offered the water to the young elf. "Drink this. Aldrae said you need to stay hydrated. Then you're to rest for the remainder of the day."

Hesitantly accepting the waiting glass of water, Deimos spared a quick glance up at his father's face hovering to the side of him. Skeptical eyes meeting calm yet concerned ones, the young elf gave a small nod of his head before stealing a sip out of the glass. Though the angered and frustrated feelings at his father were still present in his being, the paladin found the older elf's finicky demeanor peculiar. "What about training?"

Watching the younger elf take a liberal gulp from the glass, Tharsis crossed his arms over his broad chest. "You're going to take a break from physical drills. Instead, we're going to focus on your mental strength. It's been some time since we devoted a whole day to meditation so tomorrow we'll do that. I want to take you through a couple different methods to teach you how to better use your senses; it's obvious that you don't appreciate your full potential."

Draining the cup, Deimos was taken back with surprise when the commander generously took the empty glass. Eyeing his father with slight doubt, the paladin watched the older elf under examining eyes while he moved towards the doorway. "I'm pretty good with my hearing."

"You're an elf; acute hearing is just a sliver of the privileged mental capability our race possesses."

Nodding distractedly at the words, Deimos felt his exhausted and tired body silently pleading with him for a reprise in the day. The soft bed and plush pillows were tempting him to give in to his fatigue as his father pulled back the silks to leave the room.

"Ann'da," the young elf began, Tharsis pausing in his departure to glance back at his son with quizzical eyes. "I think I said this last night, though I can't really remember if it was real or not. But, thank you for helping me last night. I know you probably think I'm weak and more a bother than anything, but for what it's worth, thanks."

Regarding his son's calm face for a moment, Tharsis was sure to keep his own features blank and passive; though he wasn't aware of his eyes giving away his eagerness at the young elf's words. "You're my son, Deimos. No matter how hard I push or demand of you, nothing will change that. What I saw last night was a parent's worst nightmare; you're just lucky that I have the training to react accordingly. Majority of the elves in the city wouldn't have such an advantage." Pausing to consider his words, not bothering to take in the bewildered expression in the paladin's eyes, Tharsis gave a strong sigh. "There's no need to thank me, either. What I did last night, I would willingly do today or twenty years from now."

Shocked at the uncharacteristic and unexpected moving words, Deimos opened his mouth to reply only to see his father briskly exit his room. Watching the fabric hanging loosely in the doorway sway back to its resting position, the young elf wasn't sure how to react. His worn and weary body begged him to give in to the sleep that threatened his consciousness while his conscience told him to speak his father. Located somewhere in the middle of the two sides was his rational mind; trying to create a compromise for the opposing teams. His father, he figured, would immediately close up upon initiating a conversation about his new manner and behavior demonstrated. The older elf would dismiss any notions of change or strange emotions; most likely reverting back to his cold and distant self. Though Deimos found the new attitude from the commander strange and foreign; it was a welcoming feeling. Having always dreamed of gaining his father's acceptance and love, it seemed the older elf was willingly offering small amounts of open kindness. Falling back on the mattress, his head resting lightly on the pillows, Deimos allowed his eyes to immediately close. Though he was still incensed and angry at the newly placed curfew and rules, he felt small oddities accompanying the feelings; happiness and security. Though the emotions openly conflicted with one another, the paladin annoyed at the restraints placed on his life, he was slightly relieved and elated at the prospect of his father directing so much attention at him. The newly instilled rules served as evidence that the commander retained some aspect of love and care for the boy; Deimos reveling in the emotions. Feeling consciousness slowly begin to ebb away from his body and mind, he felt content and happy where he was at; any thoughts of returning to Stormwind no longer on his mind.