Author's Notes:
Stealth Update. Smut. A little plot development. More smut. Woohoo!
Ж
Act II Scene II:
The Journey's First Steps
It was still fully night outside, but the darkness was no barrier to Nathiel's kal'dorei sight. Asleep in Nathiel's arms, Ambryn's expression was one of serene peace, lips slightly parted, pale features relaxed. They had time yet, before day and duty would call them away to begin their journey south, to Teldrassil and Darnassus, so Nathiel simply watched him sleep, treasuring each moment free from fear and strife. It would almost be a shame to wake him, except they'd agreed to put the best start on each day that they could manage, look forward to whatever they could, and set aside any worries that weren't immediate. The rest would have to take care of itself.
He leaned over, pressing his lips lightly to Ambryn's as his hand slid beneath the sheets, gliding over the slight curve of the human's belly, closing briefly around his penis, and then stroking his testicles before sliding under, between his legs to his valley. Even not really yet awake, Ambryn reacted instinctively to him, lips parting to allow him in to plunder his mouth, legs spreading to grant easier access. That surrender was always a heady aphrodisiac, giving Nathiel a feeling of potency, quickening his arousal, and Ambryn's swift exhalation as Nathiel's fingers caressed and massaged his entrance spurred him on.
The long, thick shaft of his erection was already bobbing against his hard-muscled abdomen, and Nathiel could feel one of Ambryn's hands on his chest, the other tracing a path further downward. Nathiel couldn't help a noise that was half-hum, half-growl as Ambryn's fingers closed lightly on his shaft, thumb brushing over the fat mushroom head before they slid down, pumping his hips slightly into that light pressure, breaking the kiss as Ambryn's knowing fingers caressed his large testicles to let out his own sigh of pleasure.
He turned, reaching over to the nightstand for the bottle of lubricant, and Ambryn threw back the sheets and slid down the bed. The head of Nathiel's cock was too big for him to get his mouth completely around it, but he did manage to close his lips around most of it, and Nathiel had to check the instinctive buck of his hips into that wet warmth, other hand coming to rest lightly on Ambryn's hair.
"Good morning," Nathiel half-groaned.
Ambryn pulled off of Nathiel's phallus. "Mmm. Morning." Then he slid his tongue down the length of Nathiel's shaft, tracing the vein along the bottom to the base, opening his mouth wide to suck on first one large, dark purple testicle and then the other before lapping his way back up.
Nathiel pulled the cork from the bottle's neck with his teeth, wetting his fingers as he sat up, reaching for Ambryn's entrance with one long arm, relishing the feel of his lover's mouth and tongue on his engorged manhood.
Ambryn sighed against his cock as Nathiel's fingers massaged, a moan escaping him when one slipped inside. Nathiel's other hand curved under his chin, gently lifting, and he brought Ambryn's mouth back to his own, taking possession of it once more. He put his free arm around Ambryn's waist, pulling the human mage against him, the other hand still occupied with pleasuring him.
Ambryn hadn't relinquished his grip on Nathiel's now saliva-slicked penis, and though his hand couldn't close all the way around it, he still stroked, eager to reciprocate.
Desire was a full, raging-hot fire in Nathiel now, familiarity only fanning the flames. He knew just where to touch to bring the most pleasure, to elicit a sigh, a moan, a gasp. His finger slid up within Ambryn to a place he now knew by heart, making his human lover tremble and pant. He added a second finger, continuing to work Ambryn's mouth with his own as Ambryn's fingers cradled the back of his neck.
His heart felt like it had become a forge fire, pumping blissful heat through every vein in his body, Ambryn's touch, the feel of his body only making it more unbearably sublime. Ambryn's fingers on his penis were compelling in a way he couldn't ignore much longer, the moisture now flowing down its sides not from Ambryn's mouth alone.
He broke the kiss.
"Please," Ambryn breathed – those emerald eyes like hot, lush forests hypnotic and enthralling.
Nathiel didn't need to ask what he wanted – he knew instinctively and he wanted it fully as much. He withdrew his fingers from Ambryn's flesh and his hand closed around Ambryn's on his shaft. Ambryn shifted over his lover, maneuvering himself until Nathiel's crown was pressed against his bud.
"Kiss me," Nathiel said huskily, wanting to claim Ambryn's mouth at the same time he claimed that innermost sanctuary.
Ambryn complied, and Nathiel's tongue was in his mouth, that dance helping him to resist the urge to thrust up as Ambryn slipped slowly down onto him, feeling that tight, hot, slick flesh envelop him with maddeningly delightful deliberateness. His hips wanted to buck, thrust, propel him deep into Ambryn's body, but he continued to hold still, not wanting to hurt his lover. Ambryn's arms wrapped around his shoulders, the hand at the base of his neck smoothing his hair. Nathiel wrapped one arm around Ambryn's ribs, helping support his weight, the other cradling his cheek.
Finally, after a small eternity that was as wonderful as it was torturous, Ambryn was settled against Nathiel's thighs, Nathiel's length penetrating him to the hilt. It was temporarily sufficient and yet not nearly enough at the same time. Ambryn rose slightly, flexing his knees, and sank back down. It was almost too much to bear. Nathiel wanted him, wanted the completion he could feel on the horizon desperately.
Ambryn rose, sank down again, sweat gleaming on his skin now, chest heaving, and Nathiel slid his mouth down to Ambryn's pale throat, kissing, licking, suckling. Ambryn picked up the pace slightly, rising further, sinking back down again, breath coming fast.
A part of Nathiel wanted to let this play out, take the sex slow, because he knew the climax would be glorious, but it was becoming impossible to hold himself back, self-control rapidly dwindling.
"I want you Ambryn," he rasped, words half a growl. "I can't hold back much longer."
Ambryn's lush smile made Nathiel's heart leap in his chest. "Take me," he whispered softly, and kissed Nathiel again.
A tiny part of Nathiel felt just the slightest bit guilty at giving in to his own impatience, but he quieted it with an assurance that he'd make it up to Ambryn afterward. Then he had Ambryn on his back, the human's legs spread, and he pulled out and thrust, moving into the quick pace his body demanded. He could feel Ambryn welcome him, arms clinging to his neck, feel Ambryn's heartbeat beneath him, around him, their tongues twining and writhing as his hips pistoned and his manhood penetrated his lover again and again, feeling Ambryn pant against his mouth, half-sob with the pleasure Nathiel had awoken in him.
That primal potency only continued to build, and Nathiel reveled in it, the feeling that here, in these moments, this joining, the universe was spiraling towards perfection. Here, his needs and desires met with Ambryn's, complementing and completing one another.
He didn't let up, continuing to thrust, feeling that perfection nearing, coming closer. They were there – on the cusp of it – Ambryn was crying out into his mouth, warmth jetting between their bodies as his inner walls contracted and released around Nathiel's manhood.
Nathiel felt it, the perfect moment of absolute bliss, everything in balance as he climaxed, pleasure peaking and then spreading out around them as he came, seed washing into Ambryn's body. It took him a little time to come down, and when he did, Ambryn wore a dreamy, contented smile beneath him.
They simply lay there for a long while.
"Sorry, I got a little impatient." Nathiel kissed Ambryn lightly on the lips.
"It was perfect. Extraordinary even. I won't hear a word to the contrary." Ambryn's smile didn't alter. "But then, it always is."
"With you – yes." Nathiel kissed Ambryn again, not deeply, but passionately, making it last. "I love you. I really and truly love you with all my heart."
Ambryn's smile turned tender. "I love you just as much." It became slightly impish. "Maybe more."
"Not possible," Nathiel asserted. "I love you the most."
Ambryn sighed, but his smile remained. "Well I love you the most." His expression turned mock-thoughtful after a moment. "I suppose you'll just have to settle for me, then."
Nathiel lifted an eyebrow, amused, bracing himself with one arm as he drew a lock of hair out of Ambryn's face and smoothed it to one side. "I don't consider myself to be settling in any way, shape, or form."
"Ah. You got ridiculously lucky too, did you?" Ambryn's smile deepened.
"I did," Nathiel said huskily. He glanced toward the window. The first lightening of the horizon heralded the coming dawn. They had time yet. Still deep in Ambryn's body and half-hard, he felt himself stir, and Ambryn's lips rose to meet his.
Ж
They could have walked to Canticle Quarter, Ambryn supposed, or taken a carriage there, except that they'd already run a little late leaving his apartment. Not that he minded the reason for it in the slightest. Dawn proper had passed, and while they weren't late yet for breakfast, they were extremely close to just in time, so it was magic that carried them.
Nathiel was beside him, his arm nestled in the tall, handsome Night Elf's elbow, and he smiled down at Ambryn with those beautiful silver eyes as he reached forward to open the door to Cerulean Lights.
Ambryn couldn't help but smile back, as captivated as ever – perhaps even moreso now that he'd had time to grow to love the strong, passionate man who he was lucky enough to have love him back. He stepped inside, and Nathiel followed him in.
The Cerulean Lights was much different this early in the day – for one thing it was almost entirely empty, most of the light coming from the magically reinforced glass skylights high above where blue skies stretched out without a cloud to be seen. The white-draped tables were bare, chairs empty, lamps unlit.
The young man who met them was dressed much more casually than the maitrê d' from their previous visits, no vest over his white shirt, no bow tie, though he still wore black slacks and polished shoes. He showed them upstairs to where Aunt Adaliria waited, seated at a table. She was wrapped in a robe printed with purple bell flowers, a pot of tea steaming in front of her, and she smiled and rose as she caught sight of them, coming forward to give Ambryn a hug.
"Oh my dear boy, you're leaving all over again – only this time I won't be able to think of you safe somewhere else in the city." Her voice was quiet.
Ambryn held onto her, taking comfort in the familiar, faintly sweet hint of tobacco smoke that surrounded her. "I'll try not to be gone so long this time."
Adaliria just squeezed him. "Oh, it'll do my old bones much good to see you safely back home where you belong once this is all sorted out." She finally let him go, and stepped back, faded blue eyes fond and just a little sad. "Sending you off with a decent breakfast is the least I can do, and I've no doubt they'll be a while longer getting those great wagons ready for the journey anyway."
They ate and talked, perhaps longer than Ambryn had really intended to, reminiscing over the past when his mother was still alive, catching up on some of the less painful parts of what had happened after. Even after the breakfast dishes were cleared away and the teapot stopped giving off steam, he lingered.
"I have something of your mother's," she said after the words finally dipped into silence, lighting the long-stemmed pipe in her fingers, tossing the spent match onto her tea saucer. Her faded blue eyes were intent, taking him in. "I think it will serve you well on this trip, though if the Light is kind, you won't need it. Wait here for a moment."
She rose, and walked away, and when she returned, she had a flat, brown wooden box in her hands, setting it almost reverently on the table. She removed a tiny brass key from the pocket of her robe, undoing the lock, and drew in a deep breath, still looking at it.
"Your mother . . . would not have wanted for there to be a reason for me to give this to you." Aunt Adaliria smiled, but there was sadness in the curve of her lips, old ghosts in her eyes. She lifted the lid.
What lay on the pale gray velvet looked almost like a bracelet, but thick and graceless, blackened as though burned by fire, made up of countless little metallic spheres that draped down into a sort of fringe.
"This is a war bangle, left over from the days before you were born. It possesses the power to slow corruption of the flesh and spirit, though it cannot stave it off completely. Too much exposure and even this . . ." She trailed off, eyes darkening, face tightening, and Ambryn was certain that the memory before her eyes wasn't a pleasant one. "I only pray there will be no need of it, but I know that even now in the forests of Kalimdor, a fel presence remains, however faint, from the days of the old wars." She lifted it, holding it out, and her eyes were fixed on him once more. "Keep it close to you, in a pocket or on a belt. If it burns green, run."
"Thank you." Ambryn took it hesitantly. It was heavy in his hands.
She closed her eyes and took in a deep, long drag from her pipe, turning her head, and plumes of smoke jetted from her nostrils as she exhaled. She opened her eyes after a moment, and managed another smile, but some of that sadness remained in her worn features as she set the pipe down and held out her arms. "I should let you get on, but first – come give me another hug."
To Ambryn's surprise, she insisted on a hug from Nathiel as well before they left, and though his handsome lover looked a little uncertain, he allowed it.
As they stepped outside, the doors closing behind them, Ambryn's hand went to the war bangle now resting in his pocket, thoughts going to his mother, to the illness that had taken her, and he wondered.
"Strange woman," Nathiel murmured. "But I approve."
Ambryn shot him a sidelong smile, distracted from his thoughts. "I think she approves of you too."
"We've still got time before they'll have the wagons ready." Nathiel brushed a lock of hair back behind Ambryn's ear.
"I still need to finish packing." Ambryn sighed. It was a simple matter of throwing a few more shirts and pants and robes into the second of the two trunks he was bringing along for what was scheduled to be a long tour of the Night Elven lands, but it wasn't really one he was looking forward to. His fingers were still resting on the war bangle. There was one thing he'd been putting off even more than finishing packing.
He looked up at Nathiel once more. "I . . . before we go – I should – I want to go see my mother."
Nathiel just nodded, wrapping his arms around him. "Whenever you're ready."
Ж
It was hard, seeing the Last Tower again. Ambryn looked up at it, at the snowy white immaculate spire that reached heavenward. It was a peaceful place, and yet the memory of it weighed heavily on his heart. Over there, on the western edge of the cloisters that surrounded its base – that was where he'd sobbed in Aunt Adaliria's arms, feeling as though his heart would never be whole again, wishing in vain that he would wake up, that it all would have been nothing more than an awful nightmare, that he'd come downstairs and find his mother, wrapped in a blanket, sitting in her chair and reading with a cup of tea at her elbow.
Except that after that day, morning after morning, he'd come downstairs to find that chair empty. And then, after a while, he'd come downstairs to find that her chair wasn't there anymore.
Even before then he'd known she wasn't well. It was impossible to miss her wasted body, frail bones, and thin cheeks. He'd seen the priests come in, and knew that they were there to see her. He'd thought they were there to make her better, that with their help, she'd recover.
Day after day though, she'd only weakened further.
At the end, lying in bed, she'd looked so peaceful, so happy. She'd smiled, and Ambryn had done his best to smile back at her despite how much it killed him to do so, despite the way his father's absence ate at him.
She'd left the world of the living somehow utterly at peace, leaving her children behind, her husband, their father, off in a distant land. If she'd felt at all abandoned, it hadn't shown.
She might not have, but Ambryn had.
He dropped his gaze, and wondered for a moment if he blamed his father for more than just being gone when it happened, if he blamed him for his mother's death. Ambryn touched the war bangle in his pocket.
He took a deep, calming breath before the doors, felt Nathiel's arm curve around him, gentle and strong, and gave him a grateful look. Then he went in.
The face shaped of stone wasn't the wasted one that he recalled from that last, awful day. She was just the way he remembered her in his heart, still beautiful, every lock of hair as he recalled it. Her smile was the same though: peaceful and at rest, her eyes closed, everything about her serene. Ambryn couldn't help but smile back at her even as tears spilled down his cheeks and fell to the floor. He felt Nathiel at his back, didn't resist as he was gathered into his lover's embrace.
"I wish . . . I wish I'd come sooner," he murmured quietly. "I miss you, Mama. I miss you so much. There've been days when I've felt so lost. I wish . . . I wish we could have had more time. I know you were hurting at the end. I know . . ." His fingers went once more to the bangle. "I know you did your best to stay with us – not to leave us on our own. I want you to know . . . I'm happy now. I mean – it may not seem like it with everything going on." Ambryn's half-laugh came out like more of a hiccup mixed with a sob. "But I am. I wish you could have met Nathiel yourself. He's the one who really made me happy and I . . . I don't want you to worry." He swallowed, trying to gather himself as he looked up into her face, seeing that sweet smile whose memory he had always treasured and always would, drawing strength from the sight of her. "I'll be back. This time . . . this time I won't be away so long."
Ж
He looked like spun glass, Mattran thought grimly, watching as the Dellani boy came walking towards the wagons. He was deliberately bright, sparkling, trying so hard to look as though nothing was wrong, but he was transparent and visibly fragile, and it was clear for all to see that the wrong move might shatter him beyond repair, throwing everything around him into chaos that would end in an awful lot of spilled blood.
Nathiel was a grim shadow at his side, and if Ambryn Dellani was fragile glass, the Night Elf was bared steel, all hard, razor-sharp edges, ready to cut through anything that came too close to his precious charge. His posture was alert, ready, gaze intent and focused as he swept the plaza and the wagons for possible threats. If the worst happened, he'd be the one spilling that blood. Mattran recognized the spear over his shoulder on its ebony haft despite the wrappings of silk that bound the long blade. Nathiel had no intention of holding back. Breath-Stealer's presence signaled nothing less than the unmistakable intent to kill swiftly, in large numbers if necessary, without mercy or quarter given to the adversary.
It was harder to say if he was the more dangerous, or the human mage, Ambassador Tybalt Dellani of the Kirin Tor, who was watching his son approach, expression giving away absolutely nothing, that assistant of his standing nearby looking officious. His posture was relaxed, hands loose at his sides, gray rune-embroidered robes neatly pressed. Mattran wasn't fooled, not in the slightest. Not after what had already unfolded.
Tybalt's weaponry, like his intent, simply wasn't displayed as such. The gnomish priest's gaze went to the other Kirin Tor who stood nearby, ten of them, in their rich purple robes, staves to hand, a score of guardsmen in purple armor scattered around the perimeter of the wagons that were almost ready to depart. They were part of that weaponry, but only the politely presented part. Mattran's gut told him that what he'd witnessed thus far of the Ambassador hadn't been anything near the worst he could bring to bear. Just as with Nathiel, the continued abeyance of that threat hinged on his son.
If this really did fall through - if the worst happened, Mattran's own people would be drawn in. It was good motivation to succeed, and it was damned good pay, but if there'd been any way he possibly could have turned it down without betraying Nathiel and alienating most of his own people in the doing, Mattran would have given it very serious consideration. He took a long, calming drag on his cigar that hardly helped in the slightest, exhaling long and slow, the sweet scent of the smoke in his nostrils.
That the Silver Blades and the Snow's Lance would be caught in the thick of it as well was no consolation at all. He knew Limanya and Jornt reasonably well, enough to count them as friends of a sort, knew many of their subordinates in passing. As little as he wanted to walk into what could all too easily turn into a bloodbath, it made it just as much worse as it made it better, knowing they'd be in the midst of it too.
He had to give them credit though. Even knowing the stakes, neither the Worgen huntress and her people nor the Draenei mage and his had backed out. Like Vir Aegeae, they also counted numerous Night Elves in their ranks however, and while he hoped they'd band together with their comrades, he couldn't be completely certain of it.
Mattran couldn't help but shoot a glance in Belauq's direction. There was, for that matter, at least one Night Elf in his own company whose loyalty he wasn't sure would remain aligned with the rest.
Then there was the wild card, the High Elf female who strode boldly out to meet Ambryn, and the Light only knew why she was coming along, or who'd even thought it'd be a good idea. She was a mage, and a High Elf both, with plenty of bad blood to go around on both counts as far as the Night Elves would be concerned. The only way it could have possibly been worse would be if she were a warlock.
"You've looked as cranky as a raunchy sock wrapped around a skunk all morning long," Limanya said easily in her growling voice.
Mattran glanced over his shoulder and up at her, well aware of the frown on his face and his scrunched brow. "I think you know perfectly well why. If this goes bad, old girl – it won't just go bad. It'll go really, really bad. At that point the sock might be better off."
"Then I guess we'd better not screw up." Limanya's smile was dog-like, teeth bared, though without the chops drawn back, tongue showing. "We could go into this ready for the worst, braced for a fight, looking for aggression, and we'd probably find it. Or, we can look at this as a chance to help the Ambassador out at his job – being diplomatic." Her smile went away. "You're right – it's scary just how bad this could go – but that makes it really important. We've both got a lot of people who'd get screwed over either way if this goes sour, and not even just that – a lot of innocent people could and probably would get hurt. Right now, we're getting paid to help make sure that peace gets kept – that good people don't end up suffering needlessly. I can't think of a better cause, especially with such a fat payout."
"Which is why Mattran is still here." Jornt's tone was just as calm as Limanya's, hooved feet clopping on the paving stones as he approached. His staff, topped with a gold-cast bird of paradise, was cradled in one arm, a steaming mug of what smelled like cider in his other hand. "I don't think there's any question that we all know the stakes."
"Aye." Mattran's frown didn't ease. "If we fail, it may well mean a fight that could shake the Alliance to its foundations, and we're bringing along the fuse and the explosives that could start it."
"It hasn't started yet, little man." Jornt winked down at Mattran.
The gnomish priest scowled back at him before returning his gaze to where Ambryn stood, talking with one of the Kirin Tor, Nathiel by his side. Motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and his stogie almost fell right out of his mouth as his jaw dropped, because the gods-damned Night Elven huntress from Darnassus was headed right for the human. Nathiel's head came up, clearly sensing her. Mattran saw his features harden.
"Shit – we may not even make it through the fucking portal!" Mattran breathed.
Ж
Ambryn sensed rather than saw Nathiel tense, looking up at him and following his gaze to where a Night Elf was walking purposefully towards them. He didn't recognize her, though he supposed that wasn't unusual – there were a great many Night Elves present. This one though – she didn't bear the device of any of the three guilds his father had employed. Ambryn felt the slightest chill run down his spine at the realization. There was only one person she could be.
He jumped slightly as she let her bow fall to the paving stones with a clatter, undid her belt and let it and the quiver follow, arrows rattling, leaving a trail of discarded knives in her wake as she drew nearer, and stopped short, holding up empty hands. She didn't speak immediately, but dropped to one knee.
Ambryn's wariness didn't entirely leave him, but he couldn't deny the curiosity that filled him.
"I come to you humbly, Ambryn Dellani, unarmed, bearing you no ill will or evil intent." Her words were dignified, measured, her softly glowing pale lavender eyes resting on him. "I am Shaenae, Hunter of Darnassus. I would have you know that I am sworn to defend your life, oathbound to see you safe. I will give my life in order to preserve your own should it be needful. The circumstances demand nothing less. I swear to you by the goddess and on my own soul and my hope to be accepted into her realm at the hour of my death, that I will see you reach Darnassus alive, and return unharmed."
For a moment Ambryn couldn't move, couldn't speak, caught completely off his guard. Her gaze was straightforward and unwavering, posture straight. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she meant every word. He started to step forward, to help her up, except that Nathiel's arm snaked around his waist.
"As tough as you probably are with just your bare hands, I suggest you retrieve your weapons if you want to live up to that oath, Huntress." Nathiel's tone was cool.
"I'm honored, Hunter Shaenae," Ambryn said quietly, feeling somewhat sorry for her.
Ж
Shaenae nodded crisply and stood, backing away. She had seen what she needed to see. The human knew her words for the truth, and she had meant them with every part of her being. The moment she'd started toward him she'd felt the unmitigated collective enmity that focused on her, the willingness and intent to kill without hesitation, even among those of her own kind. It was in every gaze but his. Perhaps the priestesses had foreseen even better than they knew, because she could sense the sudden outbreak of violence that awaited any misstep.
For the sake of her people, she had to be just as willing, just as swift to kill as any of those who watched over the human child, or her people would suffer for it. He was at the center of it all, and she could only be grateful at the absence of malice in his eyes and the sympathy in his voice.
She let her gaze rise to the silver eyes of the male who'd spoken so coldly to her, saw in him the lethal threat of the others magnified ten-fold, and understood fully that her words and her oaths meant nothing to him. She knew with gut-wrenching certainty that if she failed to protect the human, she would only be the first to die.
Shaenae backed away and turned to gather up her weapons.
Ж
Mattran let out a slow sigh of genuine relief as the huntress backed off, hearing Jornt doing the same behind him.
"Well fuck," he said more calmly than he felt. "That went better than expected."
Limanya shook her head. "Oh, she's a smart one. I'm pretty sure she knew just how ready everyone was to kill. I'm also pretty sure that's exactly why she did it and why she has every intention of following through."
"Damned good thing," Jornt muttered.
Ж
Hector had almost drawn his sword when the Night Elf huntress had started toward Ambryn. There was no doubt in his mind who she was or who she was headed for. It took genuine effort to restrain himself and hold back from revealing his presence. He'd had to remind himself forcefully that at the moment Ambryn was incredibly well protected. There wasn't any possible way the Night Elf would have been able to get at him before being cut down. That didn't make him want to be there keeping Ambryn safe and protected any less.
He watched as the huntress discarded her weapons and knelt, suspicion only partly assuaged. It was possible it was an act. He kept his hood up, kept to the back of the wagon that Tybalt had arranged for him to travel in, and he waited.
The first part of the trip wouldn't be terribly long. The wagons would travel by portal to Valiance Keep, down to the docks, and all the goods and supplies that had been loaded over the course of the morning into the wagons would be loaded onto the three ships that would bear them southward on the next morning's tide to Kalimdor, along with the wagons themselves.
That the entire trip wasn't being done by portal was supposedly out of deference to the Night Elves' deeply ingrained suspicion of arcane magic. Hector privately suspected that Tybalt thought he might employ such a tactic with the intent to lull the Night Elves into believing this really was a purely diplomatic mission. Even if they somehow suspected that Ambryn was being used as very well-protected bait to draw out those who might wish to do him harm so that they could be dispatched, that realization alone might just give them pause.
Hector let his gaze linger on Ambryn, and as painful as it was to see him held in another's embrace, the sight of him still wasn't one that Hector wanted to look away from. It was almost as painful knowing that Tybalt had at least partially gotten his way. Ambryn's greeting to his father hadn't been terribly warm, but it hadn't exactly been brusque either. Hector had known Tybalt had been using him before, knew he was being used now, but he was wondering if he'd ever really had a grasp of the depth of the Ambassador's machinations. Had Tybalt ever really wanted to rid his son of his Night Elven suitor, or had that just been one more means to reassert his control, a discarded skein of his tangled plot discarded when a better opportunity to ingratiate himself with his son appeared?
Hector supposed it didn't matter either way. He was here, caught fast in the bonds of a love he couldn't for the life of him break. It was hopeless and he knew it, but he couldn't let go. So he waited, and he watched, and when the time finally came for the caravan to move through the wavering portal that opened before the first of the wagons, he settled himself into the back, and watched as he rolled past Ambryn.
He waited until the wagons were down to the wharfs proper before disembarking, jumping from the back of the wagon to the street, walking along the waterfront. There wasn't much danger of him being seen by Ambryn or anyone else he might recognize here in the seedier part of Valiance Keep – at least until the following morning when they would board the ships and cast off. The Dellanis and their immediate escort would be hosted at the governor's home and then spend their night in a much more comfortable, upscale inn than the dives boasted by the docks. It was a night that Ambryn would undoubtedly spend in the arms of his Night Elven paramour. The thought made Hector's jaw clench, teeth grinding.
He wended his way among the dock laborers, fishermen, and trinket-hawkers that thronged the waterfront, the smell of salt from the ocean mingling with the scent of those same indigents, the air loud with the midday bustle. Perhaps because his thoughts were elsewhere, it wasn't until he was almost at his destination, an inn sided in tarred wooden planking by the name of Iron Mary's, that he realized he'd been followed.
He briefly considered moving on and then doubling back in the crowd, except that he suspected if it was anyone who knew of his connection to Ambryn, like that High Elf wench, they'd already have gone to him with the news. That being said, he also wanted a look at his inconspicuous pursuer, and if necessary, Hector could settle things without needing to run the risk of exposure.
He went in, crossing the sawdust-covered floor, dimly lit under oil lamps that flared and smoked in the drafts that blew in through the clapboard. A large hearth burned in the center of the common room, giving off heat to counter those drafts as well as the chill wind that entered when the door was opened. Hector found himself an unoccupied table with a view of the door and sat, waiting.
He didn't have to wait long. A Night Elf swept in, skin a pale blue, hair deep green, a fur-lined vest on over his loose gray-green shirt. His black trousers were soft, accentuating his toned legs, and his luminous golden eyes swept across the common room and settled on Hector, a smile crossing his lips. Hector didn't smile back, making no attempt to hide the displeasure on his face as the slim Night Elf approached his table.
"What do you want?" he growled tersely.
The Night Elf's smile merely turned amused as he pulled out a chair and seated himself, crossing his legs. He was probably of a height with Hector, slim and toned rather than strapping. "To do us both a favor." His eyebrows rose. "Maybe more than one now that I've got a good look at you." He leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of one hand. "I'll buy."
Hector sat back, folding his arms. "You going to tell me what you're up to?"
"All in good time, handsome. All in good time." The Night Elf winked. "I'm Belauq by the way."
Hector simply glowered at him.
Belauq rolled his eyes, smile turning amused. "Trust me, even if the beer here isn't worth it – you'll want to hear what I have to offer."
"Two beers," the tavern maid said as she swept over to the table. "That'll be eight coppers."
Belauq glanced over at her. "Impressive – you didn't even have to ask what we wanted."
"Beer's the only drink we sell, and if you're at a table – you're buying." Her tone was as matter-of-fact as her outstretched hand. "Eight coppers."
Belauq handed her a silver. "What'll that buy us to eat?"
She made it vanish like a street magician. "Nothing – the rest is my tip. I'll be back with the sausage platter though. That'll cost you another silver." Then she was gone.
The Night Elf looked mildly nonplussed for a moment. "I'm guessing that's not optional either." He turned his gaze back to Hector. "So, you're Ambryn's human suitor."
Hector felt a moment of misgiving, wondering if Tybalt had set him up. Still, he didn't let his unease show, shrugging and taking a swig of the beer. It wasn't the worst he'd ever tasted, but it was pretty close. "How'd you know?"
"Nathiel passed your description around Vir Aegeae. He'd very much like to skewer you with that spear full of dark magic he's toting around." Belauq's tone remained casual. "The thing is – I have no intention of telling him about you. I can even help you hide."
That immediately caught Hector's interest, but wariness remained. "Oh? And what do you get out of this?"
"Well, if you manage to walk away with the human mage – Nathiel will need . . . consolation. It all has to be done very carefully of course. I don't want Ambryn dead, just – shall we say – compromised." Belauq's golden eyes took on a malicious cast. "Believe me, that more than anything else will finally get Nathiel's head, as well as the rest of him, where he really needs to be. You get your human lover, and I get Nathiel whenever I want him. Everyone walks away happy." His smile twisted. "Sort of."
Hector snorted. "You think I haven't made a pass at Ambryn quite a few times already? He's not going to go for it."
"Not on purpose." Belauq shrugged. "But we'll have our opportunity. I've known Nathiel since before your great grandfather was born. I know his temper, and how to provoke it. All we have to do is be ready." He looked away, and Hector followed his gaze to see the tavern maid approaching, sliding the sausage platter onto the table. Belauq genially handed her another silver coin, which vanished as quickly as the first, and then she was gone.
"And you're sure it won't end with him trying to skewer me anyway?" It wasn't that Hector necessarily feared the prospect. A part of him was even eager to test the Night Elf's mettle. The chance to put his blade through that dark purple chest held enormous appeal. He wasn't stupid though. Nathiel moved with the grace and surety of a warrior, and he'd seen duty as a bodyguard in Northrend – a successful one, or he'd be dead or crippled. For that matter, he didn't strike Hector as a stripling, and age didn't slow the Night Elves. There was no telling how many centuries of experience he might have in combat.
Belauq did have a point in that respect. It would be best to wait for the right opportunity.
Hector had kept his expression fixed in the same glower as before – not difficult considering the subject matter. The intent way that the slim Night Elf was looking at him though suggested he knew or at least guessed at the direction of Hector's thoughts.
Of course – that assumed that this wasn't all some sort of a set-up.
"I'll hide you, and that help is going to be my insurance that this goes the way I want." Belauq's eyebrows rose.
It was that attempt to assert control that convinced Hector that Belauq really did want what he said he did, at least partly. That by no means inclined him to fully trust the Night Elf's intentions, but it was assurance of a sort.
Hector took another long pull on the swill beer. "So let's say that I agree to this. How are you proposing to hide me?"
"Oh, I think you'll quickly realize just how ingenious I can really be." Belauq's smile was broad and toothy. "Unlike Night Elves, humans are not possessed of eternal youth. They don't even have the extended lifespan of a dwarf or a gnome. Once you've aged, you only get older. Normally."
Hector caught on instantly. "Just how young are you planning to make me?"
Belauq shrugged. "Nothing drastic. You're perhaps . . . in your thirties now?"
"Five years shy," Hector replied dryly.
"A decade then – not yet into the prime of your people's manhood, but . . . perhaps familiar enough to tug on Ambryn's heart strings just a little. The innocence of youth without the bitter memories that your current face would doubtless bring." Belauq sat back, expression eminently satisfied. "Of course, you'll have to be a half-decent actor as well, but it could be done."
Hector let the glower drop, relaxing and allowing his interest to show. "Alright. How are you going to do it?"
"Not here." Belauq's smile turned amused and slightly condescending. He tipped up his beer mug, eyeing the contents. "Why don't you get a room, and then we can . . . discuss the particulars in greater depth."
There was a smolder in his eye at that, one that Hector wasn't a stranger to, making the second favor that Belauq intended to both of them fairly obvious. He let his gaze drift from the Night Elf's admittedly beautiful features to a neck that Hector's hands could certainly fit around. He was on the slender side for a Night Elf – body still toned, but he clearly wouldn't be any match for Hector in a contest of strength.
He rose without a word, not missing the way Belauq's eyes swept over him, lingering on his crotch, and went to get a room. Key in hand, he returned to the table, giving the Night Elf an expectant look. The Night Elf stood, knocking over his beer mug without any pretense of doing it by accident, and beer splashed across the table and onto the floor.
For some reason that petty, condescending gesture struck Hector as amusing, though he couldn't have said exactly why, and he led the way to the upper floor. The room had thin walls and no windows, and he was willing to wager if the magical heat stone in the iron stove wouldn't have been cheaper than coal or wood, there'd have been enough of either to heat the little room for maybe an hour at most. The bed was barely more than a cot, straw sticking through the threadbare sacking that shaped a lumpy mattress. A clay chamber pot sat half underneath it.
Hector shut the door, threw the deadbolt that looked to be the only thing of any sturdy construction in the small space, and turned to face Belauq. The Night Elf was eyeing him openly now, gaze raking up and down Hector's body. He stepped forward, and without a word, reached for the clasp on Hector's cloak, tossing it onto the bed.
He was smiling, a small smile that combined with his lascivious gaze declared his intentions as clearly as if he'd put them in writing, hands going to the leather straps that held on Hector's breastplate and pauldrons, letting them fall to the floor, fingers dancing down the buttons of Hector's coat, sliding it down off of his shoulders and tossing it atop the cloak on the bed.
Belauq took a little more time with the shirt, sliding his fingers up under it, first over Hector's rippling, hairy belly, and then along his muscular ribs, up to his hairy chest, massaging his pectorals, thumbs sweeping over Hector's nipples, teasing them, tweaking them gently between his index fingers and middle fingers. He tugged upward on the hem, and Hector obligingly raised his arms, letting Belauq tug it over his head and off, rewarded a moment later with Belauq's warm wet tongue on the nipples he'd been teasing just a moment before, one and then the other before he bent, leaning down to kiss Hector's powerful biceps, gradually sinking to one knee as he kissed and licked and sucked his way down Hector's chiseled belly.
Pale blue fingers undid Hector's fly in a heartbeat, and Belauq's mouth continued its sojourn downward. He wrapped his hand around Hector's half-hard penis, and grinned. "Now this - this I like a lot. How big does it get?"
"Eleven inches." Hector's voice came out husky. He was, despite his initial misgivings, extremely turned on. He was honest enough to admit to himself that the knowledge that he wasn't being true to his desire for Ambryn wasn't nearly enough to stop him, especially in light of the fact that Ambryn wasn't his to hold at the moment anyway. This wasn't what he ultimately wanted, but he was more than willing to take advantage of what was being offered.
The feel of the Night Elf's mouth enveloping his cock was enough to draw out a quick exhalation of pleasure, and he ran his hands gently through Belauq's thick green locks, unable to help a certain amount of tenderness despite its source being purely sexual pleasure, and he let his head fall back as the head of his engorging penis hit the back of the Night Elf's throat and slid in. That throat got tighter as he got harder, but Belauq didn't seem to have much trouble swallowing the broad shaft despite his jaw being lowered as far as it would go to avoid more than grazing Hector's cock with his teeth.
Belauq seemed to sense when Hector was starting to get close, because he stopped deep-throating his penis, pulling off to lick and suck on his large balls instead, one hand holding them close to his mouth, the other kneading Hector's powerful right buttock.
Apparently he wanted this to last a little bit longer. Hector half-smirked at the thought. He reached down, tugging under Belauq's arms, pulling him to his feet, and went to work on the buttons of the Night Elf's vest, tossing it onto the bed atop his own clothes, and the shirt as well. They'd want all the extra padding they could get.
He gave Belauq a quick kiss. "I hope you brought something to lubricate yourself with, spit dries fast."
Belauq's smirk matched his. "Don't worry, I've got that covered."
Hector nodded and then manhandled him onto his back on the bed, tugging off his boots and trousers and tossing them to the floor, stripping off the remainder of his own garb before climbing on top of Belauq, getting a good look at his smooth, toned, slender body. He was lithe, shapely and athletic though he wasn't stacked with muscle, and he had a decently sized endowment, not as big as Hector's, but still fairly good-sized even half-hard. Hector didn't plan to accommodate it, but it suited the rest nicely.
He took possession of Belauq's mouth, feeling the Night Elf's tongue dance with his own, almost vying with him more than engaging him, and the Night Elf's hands were anything but still, roaming over his body, gliding over his back. Hector lifted the Night Elf's right thigh, caressing his leg, hand sliding up to his hip, the other hand cradling the back of Belauq's head. Just because this was a sordid little tryst in a seedy dive didn't mean he couldn't be a gentleman about it.
He let his hand slide to Belauq's bottom, gently squeezing the firm muscle under his fingers. One of Belauq's hands came up to settle lightly at the base of Hector's throat. He felt the other hand that had been rubbing at the small of his back slide down, fingers dipping into his valley. Hector allowed Belauq to play with his entrance a little, until the fingers stopped massaging and prodding and started to press earnestly inward to penetrate him. At that point it was time to make sure the Night Elf knew who was actually getting fucked.
He levered himself up, got a grip on Belauq's wrists, and pinned them above his head with one hand. Then he kissed his way down the Night Elf's throat, shifting so his legs were between Belauq's. He wet his fingers with his mouth and reached down, fingering Belauq's entrance, lifting his head to get a good look into the Night Elf's eyes.
Belauq didn't look all that disappointed about the fact that he was obviously going to end up being the bottom, but there was also a certain fire in those golden eyes that said he wasn't exactly about to meekly submit, either. Hector watched the expression in his lovely pale blue face shift as Hector's sword-callused fingers slid in.
Belauq was already wet inside, slick and oily. Hector's finger glided in easily, and it didn't take him long at all the find the pleasure center, sliding his finger over it, massaging, watching as Belauq started to breathe more heavily, pleasure suffusing his features, eyelids sinking half-shut. Hector continued to be gentle, even tender, giving Belauq a little time to adjust before adding another finger. As easily as the Night Elf accepted it – even just going by how well he'd blown Hector just a little bit ago – Hector was fairly certain the Night Elf didn't need the preparation all that much, but it wouldn't be right to just plow him without showing him at least a little bit of a good time first.
"Alright! Goddess, human - you win!" Belauq had started panting. His expression turned fierce. "Fuck me!"
Part of Hector was once again amused by the Night Elf's manner, and he was definitely turned on, but at the same time he was just a little bit disappointed by the lack of any show of tenderness. Still, that wasn't enough to keep him from lifting Belauq's legs, placing the head of his cock at the Night Elf's entrance, and pressing inward.
He wasn't as gentle as he might have been otherwise, but Belauq's body accepted him easily, tight, warm, slick flesh enveloping him as he penetrated deeper, buried to the hilt in no time at all. The Night Elf reached up, gripping the headboard, obviously settling in for a rough ride.
Somewhere in the back of Hector's mind, there might almost have been a faint wisp of regret all but buried in plain but powerful sexual lust.
Hector set himself, got a good grip, and gave it to him.
He stopped trying to be gentle, didn't bother with tenderness, just focused on slamming his hips forward, driving his cock into Belauq's body, pulling back, drawing almost all the way out, and then shoving in again, losing himself in the rhythm and the pleasure of their bodies coming together. It was pure sex, and he didn't bother to think of anything beyond that.
For his part, judging by the panting and the grunts and the moans, Belauq seemed to be enjoying it fully, bracing himself to meet each thrust, head thrown back, eyes rolled up, jaw working as he gave himself over to animal pleasure, body stimulated by Hector's big penis shoving into him. The Night Elf reached down with one hand, grabbing a hold of his own cock and stroking it almost furiously, the other hand still clamped to the headboard.
Hector felt the first tremors of Belauq's coming orgasm in the contractions around his penis, looking down to see the Night Elf's testicles draw up close to the base of his shaft. It was almost enough to make him climax himself. Those contractions strengthened, and Hector watched as Belauq came, seed spurting from the head of his cock, landing on his chest and belly, one shot almost reaching his chin.
"I want to be on top," Belauq rasped, chest still heaving, one hand coming up to rest on Hector's chest.
Hector slowed, stopped, but didn't pull out. Instead he wrapped one arm around Belauq, pulled him close, and shifted until he was on his back, the Night Elf on top of him, his still-hard penis buried in the Night Elf's body.
Belauq didn't hesitate, just levered himself up, braced himself with his hands on Hector's shoulders, and brought his butt down, motions fluid, quick, and well-practiced. His eyes were shut, head tilted back, sweat all over his body just as it was now all over Hector's, pearl-colored seed sliding slowly down his torso.
He was beautiful, everything about his physical appearance perfect, but as erotically exciting as it was, Hector still didn't feel even the slightest hint of affection. The only attraction was that animal lust. He reached up, grabbing Belauq's hips, and started to thrust up into him, meeting his buttocks on the way down. He could feel his own climax approaching, and that completion became his only focus, the male above him just a part of the experience, there to provide pleasure just as he was.
He felt his balls tighten, body tensing, and release crashed through him as his manhood pulsated, blasting thick jets of his spend up into Belauq's body. His pace slowed, and on top of him, Belauq rode it out, finally looking down at him now with those golden eyes, a faint, satisfied smirk on his face as he stroked his once-again erect penis.
He pulled off of Hector's softening cock, shuffling forward on his knees until his crotch was above Hector's face, and unspeaking, shoved the head of his penis between Hector's lips.
Hector allowed it, sucking as Belauq's manhood thrust into his mouth, looking up and meeting the leering golden gaze. He didn't resist as the Night Elf pulled out and shoved back in again, corona pushing against the back of his throat, but he didn't swallow it either, just continuing to suck on the silky, slightly salty skin of Belauq's penis, the Night Elf's testicles slapping against his chin.
Belauq picked up the pace before too long, reaching down, and Hector was distantly glad his blond hair was too short for the Night Elf's fingers to find much purchase, because even as short as it was, Belauq still did his best to pull on it. It was all too clear now to Hector that this – the sex – it was as much about control for him as slaking their mutual lust.
He watched Belauq's expressions, waited for any hint of tenderness, affection, even a hint of fondness, but his face remained fixed in that smug leer as he continued to pump his hips. He leaned forward, bracing himself with his hands on the headboard, and began fucking Hector's face in earnest. It wasn't much longer until the cock in Hector's mouth started to pulsate.
Salty, musky liquid spurted over Hector's tongue, and Belauq sagged above him, pulling back and pulling his penis out of Hector's mouth, sitting back on his chest, looking eminently satisfied.
Hector turned his head, grabbed the chamber pot, and spat into it.
Belauq just smiled lazily down at him and got up, reaching for his clothing.
"Leaving already?" Hector asked casually, sitting up.
"Yes." Belauq's tone was practically a purr. "I wasn't sure at first, but I think this is going to work out between us."
"Hmm." Hector watched as Belauq bent over. "You could stay for a little bit."
Belauq paused long enough to shoot him a condescending look. "Thanks, but no. I got what I came for. I'll be back in the morning to give you the youth charm."
Hector frowned. Then he stood. Belauq gave him a mildly incredulous look as Hector grabbed him by the arm, mouth opening only to be filled a moment later by Hector's tongue.
This time Hector didn't make any pretense at tenderness or courtesy. The kiss was hard, harsh, brief, and dominant. He turned, shoving the Night Elf back down over the bed, stroking his penis to get it fully hard again, anger mixing with lust in a heady combination that was about to make him do something he might just regret later.
He grabbed Belauq's mouth with one hand, ignoring the teeth that sank fruitlessly into his callused flesh without being able to break the skin, the other clamping onto the Night Elf's hip. He lined up his cock, and slammed it in to the hilt in a single stroke, feeling as much as hearing the vibrations of Belauq's muffled grunts against his palm as he was plowed. He made the pace as harsh and brutal as the kiss, making no bones about what they were doing now being nothing more than a quick, dirty fuck.
Belauq's hands were gripping his arms tightly, but he was shoving back into Hector's thrusts, meeting every pounding assault with his hips. He came, contractions within his body bringing Hector close to the edge. Hector picked up the pace, slamming in even harder, and managed to climax as well. He let Belauq go, pulling out of him and stepping back.
For a moment the Night Elf just stood there on legs that trembled slightly, bent over the bed. Then he got up, expression furious, golden eyes blazing with anger, and shoved Hector in the chest. "You think you can just fuck me?! That I'm just here for you to use?!"
Hector shrugged, his own anger abated, feeling less regret and more of that strange, mild amusement, probably because he was still riding the high from another climax. "You only came here to use me, so far as I'm concerned we're even."
He lay in bed for a while after the Night Elf had gone. The air still smelled of sex and exertion. He didn't have any illusions about the sex ever becoming something else. He'd seen all he needed to see to know that.
It left him yearning for something with heart. Something with meaning that reached clear down to his soul. He closed his eyes, drifting back to a warm kiss in soaking wet clothes, holding Ambryn's body tenderly close, the smell of hay and the soft whicker of horses in their stalls around them, remembering the sweet kiss that had opened a gateway to a feeling which rushed all through his blood like liquid sunlight, brilliant and uplifting.
Ж
Tandira arrived in Valiance Keep on the evening tide. From a distance the dusk combined with the faint mist off of the water to give the bustling port a strange, almost surreal feel, a multitude of orange-yellow lights from windows and braziers putting her almost in mind of a hive of insects, watching her with small, gleaming, alien eyes out of the piles of timber and stone, irregular silhouettes that formed odd humps along the headland in the dwindling remnants of the swift-fading sunset.
There was a feeling on the air – not danger – not exactly, but a sense of expectant wariness, as if the inhabitants waited for the first scent of a predator on the wind.
The Ne'Aluina wasn't the only kal'dorei vessel as they tacked into the harbor, the helmsman bringing the vessel gracefully about. Other sleek vessels with sails like the night rode at anchor already, the more delicate light of her own people's lanterns shedding gentle radiance over graceful bows as they rode the gentle swells next to the great, broad shapes of human vessels and even a trio of gnomish ships with their huge protuberant chimney stacks and massive cog wheels.
The gangplank was lowered, and the ship's bosun joined her with a lantern, leading the way down over water that was now dark with the growing night. Three of her own kind were waiting for her on the dock, strangers to her. Hunter Shaenae had sent word that she would meet her, which meant she was likely one of the two females present.
The shadows beneath their hoods might have balked human eyes, but not hers. She was not wholly reassured by what she saw. There was something in their faces, a reflection of that same wariness she'd sensed on the air. The bosun seemed to sense it as well, because he stopped in front of her, not quite tense, but clearly ready.
"Lady Tandira." The female on the left spoke quietly in the kal'dorei tongue. "I am Hunter Shaenae."
Tandira felt her sense of misgiving deepen, heart starting to pound. "I . . . Hunter Shaenae – I am gravely concerned by your demeanor. Am I too late? Has something happened to the human?!"
"Ambryn Dellani is well." Hunter Shaenae's pale lavender eyes narrowed briefly, and then she seemed to relax slightly. "I have sworn to see that he remains so. The situation is delicate."
"Then I count you as a comrade still," Tandira replied quickly, feeling a little less uneasy herself. "Is there somewhere we may speak privately? I have concerns, and any allies in this endeavor would be welcome. I fear the fate of our people rests on this Ambryn Dellani's safe arrival in Darnassus. There are others who . . . may see matters differently."
Shaenae looked to the two Night Elves who accompanied her. The Night Elf in the middle nodded after a moment, her rose-colored eyes still not warm, but not openly threatening. "Accompany us, Priestess."
"The two who accompany me are Aelessia and Ferendil, of the Silver Shields mercenary guild," Shaenae explained as they walked down the pier.
"They will aid us?" Tandira asked, her cloak wrapped tight against the bitter northern chill that rode the night wind.
"They do not entirely trust us, Priestess." Shaenae's tone was slightly dry. "Their organization has been retained by Ambassador Tybalt Dellani of the Kirin Tor as protection, along with two other guilds – Vir Aegeae and the Snow's Lance."
"We would very much like to trust you, Tandira," said the third female. "I would be Ferendil by the way, and I myself would be glad to greet you as a sister priestess once we are sure of your true intentions. As Hunter Shaenae so drolly stated, the situation is very delicate. It would be extremely unwise to provoke Ambassador Dellani and the Kirin Tor."
Tandira felt a mixture of relief and a different sort of trepidation. She now understood the sense of wariness that they'd exuded when she approached them. Ambryn Dellani was well-protected. The only problem now was that his protectors didn't trust her.
"I appreciate your caution," she replied simply. "I also welcome your aid. Above all else, Ambryn Dellani must reach Darnassus unharmed."
"On that, we agree." Aelessia's tone was plain.
Ж
Author's Postscript Notes:
See something that could be done better? Just feel like sharing your feelings? Want to comment?
Leave me a review.