Arranged marriage. (DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes.)

[SilentFeather]

Two elven kings are to be in an arranged marriage. It has been that way for centuries in the two feuding empires. A son or daughter would bring peace to the bloody war between them. It was how it was meant to be.

..

Tristan, a young 23 year old man had dark chocolate brown eyes, short dark blackish brown hair, caramel skintoned flesh and a strong, well built body. That morning, he sighed in his head, accepting his Father's stern words for what they were. He bowed his head to him, not daring to complain any further. When he was finally able to leave his father's mighty, handsome presence he scurried away like a fearful animal. He traveled down a seemingly endless hallway, soon sighing with relief as he saw his room door. He turned it's knob, stepping into the depths of it's dark, pitch black room and closing it with a soft click. He walked to his bed, laying down on it with a third sigh that night. He fell asleep almost instantly. He dreamt about many things, trying to be hopeful he steered his dreams away from nightmares. He managed steer clear from those cruel thoughts known as nightmares. He did and had a wonderful night sleep.

Tristan soon awoke to the glorious, peaceful symphony of many birds chirping outside of the castle which stood high above the vast, seemingly endless stretch of grounds below. He loved the castle, he was birthed in it and his brothers did but they perished in a war against the rival empire. He smiled happily, taking a short stroll to his room's window and taking a deep breath into his eager lungs. He was wondering to himself as to exactly who he would be joined to marriage. He hoped that his soulmate would be kindhearted, loving and affectionate. He was hopeful, wanting to stay that way. He was wondering when they would meet. He went into the throne room where his father was that dawn, bowing his head in respect to him like he was taught. He spoke only when his father told him to, not ever daring to speak out of turn. He was not foolish to do that. Never. He was wise not to speak until he was told to do so.

"Father .." Tristan said.

"Yes, my son?" The father who was king replied.

"Do you know when I am to be joined to my mate?" Tristan asked further.

"Tomorrow, you and him are to meet and you are to accept his seed to make a child."  The father said.

"I understand, thank you Father." Tristan said with a bow of his head, walking from the massive throne room.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

Thorontur Erumollien had lived for many years, a son of one of the High Elves and he was found to be a skilled warrior, a just king, and a master of the arts, he had been crowned two decades past after his father's death. He looked at his council, his cousin, Beriadan, at his side as his council consulted with each other as well as himself as to what their next course of action should be.

"And you are certain there are no alternatives?" He asked, his pale eyes meeting his kin's, Beriadan sighed and shook his head.

"I wish it were not so, your majesty, but we have lost enough." Erumollien closed his eyes and sighed.
"Indeed, many of us Fade due to our losses and many still had to be burnt on pyres so their souls may be granted peace." The high king agreed to his kinsman, though he did not like the fact that he had to marry a whelp.
"We may have gotten the upper hand," Lady Mellimeldisiel had stated, voice holding exhaustion, "but I had lost a son of mine already to this war. No parent should ever bury their child." The king wholeheartedly agreed.
"We shall attempt to do our best to make your union as bearable as possible, if you so wish." Erumollien shook his head at his council.
"I had made my bed to lie upon, this war had spilt many an elvish blood and I seek to put a stop to that." He was weary but he did not make it evident in his appearance.

When the council had been adjourned, he walked with his cousin as they discussed what their preparations must be for their union. He was only half listening as his cousin spoke, most of his attention had fallen to his thoughts of possible hope for his people.
"Do you suppose our people will no longer suffer?" He heard his cousin sigh.
"Cousin, our people's grief will change to anger at such a union. A High Elvenking to be wed to another that does not share our blood is an insult to your strength and nobility." Erumollien sighed, the High Elves put him on too high a regard that lest you be a High Elven nobleman, they do not consider one close enough to be worthy of speaking to.
"So I replace their suffering with anger, and if an assassination is to take place due to my spouse?" He retorted, his cousin looked at him before shrugging.
"I know not what you shall do, but you either protect your intended or let him be."

Erumollien slept a dreamless sleep that night and he was grateful for he did not wish to see what horrors his mind held for him.

[SilentFeather]

Meanwhile, the proud King Tristan tried to empty his clouded mind of brutal worry. He was a new owner of his kingdom's throne that his beloved father had stepped down from. The father was quite forgetful and weary so he let his son tend to the vast empire. He was crowned by the crown of the Devachi clan. He accepted it with such honor that he was gifted with. He wore the gold crown with a head held high. He had the title of King since he turned 20 since his father was getting much too brittle bones and frail in what was an elderly process. He was proud of his son for being a true offspring from his strong loins. He was the seed that a father was blessed to have and adore with everything in him. He wanted his son to rule the kingdom of Devachi. He soon retreated to his room, washing his body and putting on his formal silks. They were white and gold. He was finally prepared.

Tristan went to each of the maids who raised him since his mother was deceased. He would miss them dearly. He knew that he was now a man and he was destined to be wed to the King since birth. He stayed in the throne room, soon hearing his father speaking to him. "Tristan, you will be departing to the King of the rival clan soon." He said. He was not one to explain twice.

Tristan studied in his mind of exactly what he was to say to his mate. His mind was spinning and his heart racing. "Yes father." Tristan replied to his father.

"I will miss you father." Tristan said, expressing his emotions to his parental guardian.

I shall miss you as well. You are doing a noble deed, generations of our tribe will be proud of you. I am proud as well." The father said.

"Thank you father, and proud I shall make you and our kingdom." Tristan promised his father.

Tristan sat on the throne, feeling his father's strength flowing through him like lightning storm. He saw many of his guards, some were standing by the door of the throne room and others stood tall outside with swords or axes. He felt protected by them, not having fear of being kidnapped like an unfortunate victim or slaughtered by the rival clan. He tapped his fingers on the armrests of the throne. He sighed softly, still waiting until the time that he would be soon be meeting his soon to be lover. He looked his hands, knowing that his body languages had revealed that he was one feeling, that was nervous. He hated that.

Tristan"s body, oh did he despise the way his body was betraying him. He was patient, soon ridiing in a large, relaxing horse guided carriage toward where his soon to be beloved was. He would eventually get to meet him. 

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

He had awoken that day with a wariness he cannot place. Pushing his emotions away, he put on his ceremonial robes and had opened the door to see his cousin with the silver and gold paint that their people wore on their Binding.

They were silent for a long time as Beriadan gently painted his dark skin with the symbols that spoke of strength, loyalty, unity, wisdom, and fertility, Beriadan paused and looked at Erumollien with hesitant eyes, the High Elvenking bowed his head.

With a few strokes upon his cousin's bare chest, Beriadan had painted their symbol for love.

Without much words, Beriadan had stood up and pressed a kiss upon his cousin's brow before leaving the room. Erumollien sat there, looking at the symbols so carefully painted, the silver and gold shining under the sun's touch. He closed his eyes and prayed for peace of mind.

It had taken him several minutes before he left his chambers and had gone to his gardens where they had chosen to hold the wedding. There was his high council who all bowed the moment he was seen, he waved them off and tilted his head to acknowledge their greetings. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around.

Lady Mellimeldisiel had given him a gentle smile before she offered to give him her blessings. He accepted and carefully, she wove golden thread and gems into his dark hair, she spoke for a few moments of how his hair was like the night sky before she said that she had finished weaving the stars into his hair. He thanked her and embraced his councilwoman tightly before he continued to go and greet every guest present. From dwarves, to Halfling, to humans and mages, each of them had come and he thanked them for finding time to come to his Binding. King Torsten III and his husband had come, he bowed his head at the Dwarvenking before turning to speak to another guest, feigning excitement about his soon to be spouse.

[SilentFeather]

King Tristan was in the carriage, watching through the world pass by from the window. He sighed for what was the millionth time. He lost track of just how many of the such sighs his lungs had expressed and his mouth had accepted. He did not want to be riding in the horse drawn carriage but did not complain. His fate was meant to be faced head on and accepted. He soon grew boresone of the seemingly endless traveling but knew that he would and needed to be patient like he was taught in the past. The days passed by like an awful heatwave and the nights were soothing like the depths of a pond stained black. He soon arrived at the rival kingdom. He got out with help from a guard, stepping into the castle.

Tristan bowed his head to the king before he even dared to speak. He introduced himself, trying hard not to let fear overtake him or jumble his words. He was shy but he was more of a talker rather than a listener. He was glad that he was safe and secure in the rival's King's lands, he was uncertain of what would happen.

"Good evening to you, my King, I am King Tristan. It is truly a pleasure to finally be in your presence." He felt eager to speak. "I traveled many moons from my lands of Devachi." Tristan said, expressing a smile to the other King.

Tristan stood still, looking at the King. He was eager to see the such man that was the King. He did not know as to why but he was. He smiled, standing before the King, his soon to be beloved soul mate. He felt a strange peacefulness. He looked up at the King, wondering as to what the remainder of the evening would lead to. He knew that soon he would have a child but for now he would be with his arranged lover. Life was like that from night to day. Life was like emotions, changing in many unique ways. Some positive, some negative. He was nervous but he tried not to make it noticeable. He tried to focus.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

Eerie silver eyes landed on his intended and he could hear his council murmuring with one another. He could hear Beriadan's stifled gasp, Erumollien held up a hand to silence the noises. He bowed his head slightly.

"Welcome, King Tristan, to the land of Diminishing Shadows, welcome to my kingdom, Firithdae." He spoke his kingdom's name in the High Elves' oldest tongue, having been raised to speak it like all of his people.

His intended was...comely. He did not seem to bear the dark skin and or the silver eyes of the favoured ones, and neither did he seem to be as tall as they. But he was comely still and he supposed he can tolerate that.

"These are members of my High Council," he gestured to Mellimeldisiel and the others, all of whom bowed, yet still maintained the posture that spoke of their loyalty only to the Elvenking and not his future consort. "And this, is my cousin, Beriadan." His cousin bowed, expression an unreadable mask.

"I am the High Elvenking, Thorontur Erumollien, son of the late Queen Marilla Valainistima and the late King Nostalion Erubadhron." Holding a hand out for his intended to take he barked out a command for the doors to be opened. There was a wariness in his staff's eyes, he knew they disapproved of his intended and though he was pushed in the situation, he still chose to protect the one he was to call husband.

"Guests for the wedding had already arrived, visiting dignitaries, king's, queens, nobility from all walks of life had come to witness our binding." He spoke swiftly, bowing to a Dwarven moble as they passed, "They do not know of our true circumstances but they do know that this is a political marriage, as far as they are concerned, this is to strengthen ties, not to end grief." His voice was low to avoid anyone else from hearing his words but his intended.

"Your quarters for now will be right beside my own and should you need anything, you need only pull the rope by your bed. A servant shall see to your comfort." He was called by his council and he bowed to his intended to excuse himself.

When he approached them, one of his councilmen, Valdaglerion, looking disgusted. "That...boy, is to be your husband."
"So it is."
"He does not have the touch of the Favoured."
"No he does not."
"Will you rescind your decision to wed him?"

Erumollien needed only to look at the door of his intended's room, he remembered battles, his sister falling to an arrow at her back, his brother protecting his patients, his father's head being thrown his direction. He smelled smoke and grief and fear and blood. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was in his halls once more.

"No I will not."

[SilentFeather]

King Tristan smiled, feeling blessed to have not be slaughtered by the rival kingdom. He was now in unfamiliar territory but avoided confrontation. He remained respectful of the foreign lands. He also had an ancient language that the him and his villagers spoke but felt that it was easier for him to communicate in English. He introduced with a respectful bow of his head. He stayed still like a statue. He smiled warmly, trying to remain positive through the whole entire situation. He was willing to do anything.

"It is a divine pleasure to be in the presence of the High Council." Tristan said. "Especially the kingdom as well."

Tristan was curious as to why many in the rival clan glared at him. It made him nervous but he spoke only when spoken to. He was positive and was truly eager to know lots of information. He was to be a future father of the rival King's offspring. He spoke only to the members of the kingdom, remaining polite and formal as he was meant to be. His life would be positive. He was to soon be joined to the King.

Tristan walked alongside the King, holding his hand that was once offered to him. He smiled, finding no worry in holding hands or sharing a stroll in the kingdom's massive kingdom. He was proud to ve helping the two clans would soon be at peace. He gazed at the scenery. He would be a lover and then a father for the very first time but would have to wait unti a later time. He a later time. He would take holding hands for a time, enjoying it as it would ve but only if the King desired.

"Thank you, my King." Tristan said, walking into his bedroom to explore.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

Mellimeldisiel spoke for the council, her voice flat and cold, "I could wish we felt the same." Her pale green eyes met that of her king's before she bowed and left.

Erumollien just sighed before waving away his council, "It is no trouble, it is as required after all." He spoke wearily before walking away to meet with his cousin and one of his allies.

He had gone to one of his private meeting chambers, there he saw Beriadan looking at the family portrait his father had commissioned after their mother's death.

"I used to be insulted at Airemana's placement." Beriadan murmured, Erumollien took his place by his cousin's side, "But I realised that she always chose to sit by your feet so she may shield you at all times." His sister, his Captain of the Guard, his Dark Hands. To think that she had fallen in so horrible a manner was still a sharp lance to his heart. "Glandur was a fair healer, always so gentle and reassuring, choosing healing over war." Erumollien murmured, looking at his brother's face in their portrait. Even while the rest of their family was blank face, he shone like a radiant star, his smile so blinding and pure.

"And Tôrana was always so wise and strong, he never thought rashly and sought alternatives if they were to be found." Reminiscing lost family had been something the two found themselves sharing a bond over, and today was such a day.
"To think that I am marrying the son of a ruler who had waged war against us for many years." He sighed and bowed his head, his father's killers, his sister's, his brother's. "I do not wish to rescind such a union, Hethren but it is my only way of preventing our people from fading due to heartache." Erumollien spoke with barely veiled frustration that was mixed with grief, Beriadan looked at his cousin before shaking his head and pressing their foreheads together.

"We can only wish for the best."

---

Tôrana - Uncle
Hethren - Cousin

[SilentFeather]

Silently, Tristan rested for a while in his large, new room. He soon began slumbering for a time. He stayed in a mental realm of slumber, feeling so much more at peace. He also soon sensed his body relax on the bed. He remained calm and soothed by the silence. He sighed softly in his sleep. He soon awoke, finding that he was invigorated as he resurfaced from his slumber. He tried to distract his mind from anything that caused impatience. He looked around his room, seeing a large bookshelf that contained many may genres of books. He smiled, letting his eyes consume word after word they read.

Tristan read a few books that were in his room, passing the tediously, sluggish time more productively. He was a book worm and proud of it. He was happy to be able to be by himself for a minute or so it. Being with his first lover seemed to be magic. It was so much more. He read a few books that caught his eye, reading them with a very patient, attention span.

Tristan sighed, walking around the new castle. He did such until he was questioned bu a guard. When he explained what he was wandering then the guard followed him. He felt safer with a guard, even if it was with a few of them or dozens of more.

"Thank you, guard."  Tristan said.

"You are quite welcome, King Tristan." Simply, the guard said, speaking in an emotionlessly monotone tone of voice.  

Fortunately, Tristan looked around the castle, the guard following behind him like a lost puppy. Adorable.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

He had ended their conversation by steering their talk to more serious topics, or at least, in his council, cousin and people's eyes.

"Will you forego consummating your unity?" Erumollien glared at his cousin, Beriadan shrugged.
"You have a choice, this unity alone can be a fair excuse to end the war but any child you will have your intended bear shall be seen as a bastard in the eyes of our people." Beriadan explained, the Elvenking knew better than to add that even his cousin shall view it as a bastard.
"And yet, it was part of our agreement that a child must be born." He replied, making it clear that he shall have no more talks of his Binding.

Beriadan shot a glare at his King and kinsman before he huffed and gestured for Erumollien to follow him. "If we cannot talk of such things, then mayhaps we can at least speak to your late kinsmen as well as your late subjects." The High Lord said as he shoved Erumollien out the private meeting room and to their memorial halls.

Each elf that had died in war, be it man, woman or child, had been given a respective area where their families can light their candles and offer flowers, give them small gifts or burn the letters addressed to them. And upon an elevated part of the halls were the memorial for Erumollien's father, sister and brother as well as Beriadan's grandfather and father. There they both knelt and lit the candles that had been placed on tall candelabras, murmuring prayers and vows of remembrance, Erumollien swiftly ended his visit by leaving the halls soon as he had spoken his last word. Beriadan knew better than to chase after his cousin when he was overcome with grief and so, chose to continue speaking to his kinsmen before he speaks with his King.

Erumollien however had chosen to take sanctuary inside the library, requesting for books in their writing style so that he may read old tales and history texts. He had requested for inks, a quill and some parchment while he read some texts on history, he would rewrite it on the parchment he had been provided with. He recalled promising a translated version of his people's history to the Dwarvenking Torsten so that his heir (and the Elvenking's godson), Crown Prince Adalsteinn will have something to read regarding his father's allies.

Even though Erumollien had been sending over tutors for Adalsteinn and his sister so the two may speak the High Elves' tongue and read their texts with ease. Though he supposed his dwarven friend wishes to teach more to his son and daughter and the king was not against such a thought.

[SilentFeather]

King Tristan turned, walking back to his bedroom. He laid back down, falling and sinking below the waves of slumber. He slept for a while longer, not noticing any noises. Not hearing anything outside that was outside his train of thought. He was at peace, not wanting anyone or anything to disturb him. He knew that soon he would have to rise and shine soon but as for now he would rest for as long as he could. He slept for most of the day, dreaming about what the future was like. He was soothed, did not awaken. Not for a single minute. Life was difficult.

King Tristan soon awoke, noticing that it was now evening but he was much too relaxed to care. He did not care. He yawned, rubbing his eyes till the drowsiness from them was gone. He looked around the bedroom once more, gettivg up to his feet, walking from his massive bedroom wondering as to why the King was taking so long to return. He stayed patient though. Patience was soon to be rewarded. He was eager for the King but did not went to make an awful impression. He wondered as to why the kingdom was uninviting to him. He knew he was different but that was not his fault. It seemed as though the rival clan did not want him to be joined to their King. He did not care and was not complaining a bit.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

The Elvenking did not realise how long he'd spent in the library as he translated every point of history that he found necessary for his godson, muttering to himself as he double checked to see if he was correct in his information. Not stopping after the translation of history, he decided to translate faerie tales for the Dwarvenking's daughter as well. She was a newborn, but he recalled that as a child, he always read to his younger siblings even when they were too little to understand what he was saying. Both prince and princess of the Dwarven kingdom were guests for the Binding due to the fact that their fathers had come as guests and he had practically spoiled them with small trips to the woods and horseback riding to even small excursions to different secret locations he went to as a child.

By the time the lights had dimmed, he deemed himself finished with his project and beckoned for the librarian, requesting that they bind the parchment he had written on. When he received an affirmation from the librarian, he bowed his head in thanks before leaving and heading for his chambers to change.

He was stalling his required visit to his intended, he did not wish it. If anything, it seemed his intended had interest in him while he felt no pull. Changing into his nightly clothing, he noted that his silver and gold markings were starting to fade, come morning his cousin shall paint them once more as was custom. He rubbed away at the symbol of love upon his chest and shook his head.

"If love shall come from this union, then I am becoming a mad king." He muttered before he left his room, his circlet still upon his brow. He never took his symbol of power off while he still was meant to conduct business. And to him, such an action that he was to do, was business.

Approaching the door to his intended, he rapped his knuckles against the door three times before waiting.

[SilentFeather]

King Tristan got up, softly walking to the door to it from across the room. He took a minute to compose himself. He began trying not to be too nervous. Once calm he reached out turning the knob of the room door. He opened the door, standing infront of the taller, stronger King. He bowed his head to him, speaking once he felt an urge to speak to. He the powerful man. He smiled up at the King, looking into his piercing silver eyes. "Good evening, my King. You have returned." He said formally. He had his own bloodline in which his brave child that Tristan was admired by thousands of his loyal subjects. He slightly missed being in his homeland. He knew that it was just one day but ir was for the best. He loved sword fighting like when he was young. He came. He was from a long heritage of Kings, Queens warriors, medicine women, assassins and more. He came from a true royalty. He felt proud of his own blood line, He was eager to bring peace between the two clans.

"My King, would you like to come in?" Tristan stepped aside, letting his soulmate walk past him and in the room.

Tristan sat on the bed, smiling up at the King once more. He was strangely calm, looking at the paint that decorated him. He was curious of what each symbol meant. He would be sure to ask the King later, he would.have questions. He wondered about many things, needing to keep his mind on the King. He tried not to become aroused on the presence of him. He was like a God, he could not help it. He was a well known King and that was fair and fine with him. He was blessed to have been chosen as a mate. He would make his father and his own clan proud of him. He was sure he would be a great lover.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

He needed no answer as he stepped inside the chambers he'd presented to his intended, his gaze wandered round the room with thinly veiled grief.

He had the room commissioned for Airemana's name day, he knew how she would often have warriors' night terrors and he wished to be by his sister's side to ease her hurt.

He shook his head and forced the memories away from his mind. Despite the fact that he had ordered all alterations to her rooms undone, he could still see the faint traces of paint on the walls, he could still remember the golden leaf decorations he had designed to hang above her bed. He turned to the younger king, his pale eyes trapped in a time now gone. He could recall his younger brother helping with the decorations, even adding in incense to remove any scent that may invade Airemana's nightmares.

"How are you taking to your stay?" His voice was blank, void of emotions and unreadable. His questions were the most basic questions he would ask to any guest he had that he had no care for.

He barely looked at his intended after his arrival that day, having chosen to stay away to attend to his duties as king. And now he must attempt to strike a civil conversation with his intended before he retired for the evening.

"How had your day gone?" He added as an afterthought, he thought bitterly that his younger brother, Glandur would have asked this to his betrothed before retiring when they were still battling. His brother's betrothed had already begun to fade were it not for the fact that he had taken in the grieving painter as a member of his house, brother by bond to his blood brother.

He forced away the memories and thoughts that plagued his mind and focused his gaze upon the other king, offering a tight lipped smile to him.

[SilentFeather]

King Tristan walked over to the bed, sitting down upon it. He was not aware of the turmoil that the other King felt. He tried to be hopeful, respecting the King and all that he wished to do. He stayed on the bed, wondering as to what the King was thinking about. He mentally sighed, trying to remain hopeful, keen of eye and most of all, understanding. He did not let it be known but he had his own share of burdens. He carried the such "burdens" on his back and shoulders for many many such years, knowing that he had a father who guided him into the young but sharp man he now was. He did not know of his mother's death was his fault, he knew that soon his father would explain the blunt truth to him.

"Good evening, my graciousness." Tristan said, furthering the words. "I am quite fine, I had quite a wonderful day."

"How has your evening been, my King?" Curiously, Tristan asked.

Tristan had also lost many of his companions to the brutal war of the rival empire. The companions were his protectors. They pledged their allegiance to him, each willing to fight to the death. Mentally, he sighed in the depths of his mind. He was a happy being, taking each day and living the such existence to the fullest. He knew that the lives of his clan would be on the line if the King was not accepting of the joining. The second burden was also on his shoulders, weighing him down like a massive stone. He wanted to be a future lover and soulmate to the King, he would wait if he had to. This would be a peacefulness to the two empires if a handsome son or innocent daughter was soon to be born.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

Erumollien nodded his head absentmindedly as he moved about in the room, still following the direction of the paintings he had commissioned to be done for the room. He could still see where he had asked the painter to put the sky at dawn, where he had requested for the woods and springs to be put or even where he had asked their old secret playing area to be put in. He had lived for centuries and an age long past, he had seen too much suffering and yet he continues to suffer and every step he took toward his intended felt like a shard of glass being slid into his very soul.

"That is...good to know you have taken to your new surroundings." He spoke a mite hesitantly but he did not know how he felt about his intended taking to his new home swiftly but he felt he had no care for it.

Hearing the inquiry, he did not speak for some time before answering, "It was as any day of mine would be." Save for the fact that there were more dignitaries than any normal day due to their Binding but he did not tell his intended that.

Unsure how to proceed, he offered a bow to his intended and brushed his lips against the younger king's brow before he left, murmuring out words in his tongue.

"Boe i'waen, losto vae." Without speaking another word, he left for his study and there he locked himself inside it, choosing to sort through his paperworks where he read through treatises, trade agreements and petitions. Hoping that if he does so, he can keep the nightmares, the memories....the grief away from his mind.

---

Boe i'waen, losto vae. - I must go, sleep well.

[SilentFeather]

King Tristan noticed the other King's lack of attention to the conversation but did not dare to complain. He knew that something was troubling the King's mind, also noticing that he was not pleased with his presence sitting in front of him. He wondered as to how long he would have to wait until the other King would trust him. He looked down at his hands that were in his lap, trying not to be too depressed by the long, boresome day. He wanted to rather run away and make a new life for himself and himself only. As much as he wanted to he did not want to let his own beloved kingdom and his father down so he would stick it out for as long as he was able to, even through the intense negativity that the rival kingdom gad brought down on him earlier in the day. He had hoped that he would have been accepted in the lands but realized he was wrong.

King Tristan took the result of emotion as a chance to earn the other King's trust and then the kingdom as well, he wanted to be loved, not shoved away and spit upon. He knew that they did not spit upon him but still it felt as if he was truly alone in the world. He was like a sponge, soaking up every glare, every negative feeling and more. He didn't want to offend.

King Tristan smiled, looking up into the taller King's mysterious, silver eyes. He knew that it would take time to gain the other King's affections but for now he gladly accepted the ruler's gentle lips touching one of his eyebrows in a friendly way. "Good night, my King." He said softly, taking a bath and redressing into night wear. He yawned, slipping away to rest.

King Tristan watched as the other King departed the room, leaving him alone once more. He hated being alone but he accepted it as it was. He sighed, not choosing to dwell on the misery that he felt in the rival kingdom. Patience was the only choice in the matter but he was running out of that though it was his second day in the other King's castle.

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

He did not find peace in hiding behind papers where he could feign kingly duty to. He felt desperate to claw away the grief and pain, and he knew that if none can hear him at that time he can perhaps simply hide and play a song. It was rare to find it in himself to sing these days though he knew when overcome with grief he always sang the same tune.

Creeping out his study, he headed to his chambers and plucked his lyre from where it gathered dust as he carefully wiped it clean and plucked away at the strings, testing to see if it was tuned. His movements were automatic as he sought comfort deep into his mind.

He parted his lips and sang softly, voice filled with grief, "The elves have burdens the men don’t have
Bitter remembrance stains all jubilation with tears.
Shadow and terror abound in our long, lamentable history
Our children will cross the sea." The Elvenking took a trembling breath at the thought of any child of his fading or dying, he swallowed thickly, he did not understand why he sang the translated version of the song but he did. If anyone heard him, he did not know how to react.

"The great singing wood will fall into new silence
The sweetest summer does not seem beautiful.
Our days, having departed will go beyond eyes
That watched the young green trees." He recalled how much his sister hated the translated touch saying that the rhymes were wrong and how it had lost the deeper touch of the favoured in it. He agreed with her, so why did he sing it now. A tear slipped down his cheek without his knowledge as he continued to pluck away at the harp's strings.

"Remembrance of summer seems now friend and enemy
Farewell, farewell and farewell fall like blossoms from my lips.
Farewell and farewell from the dear gates of Firithdae.".Ending the song, he had not realised he had wept til he had placed a hand upon his cheek to discover it wet.

He let out a grief stricken cry before he fell to his knees, beating his fist upon the cold stone floor, asking why he still lived when his family had nearly gone from him and all he had felt was heartache and pain. He cursed his father but begged forgiveness for his failures as well. he pleaded for his family to give him release from the night terrors that plagued his dreams, showing their deaths repeatedly until he no longer can continue his façade of a calm ruler. He wept bitterly as he felt his years upon his shoulders, he was weary and he wished to bear no more pain yet it was a curse he had borne for too long an age that he had learned to accept it as his own normalcy.

[SilentFeather]

King Tristan slumbered, trying to fade away to a peaceful slumber. He had his own troubles, flashbacks in his mind were a distraction to him. He wanted to be with his father, missing his fatherly affection. He may have been gone from his kingdom but he remained focused on taking the task he was born to do without complaining or disrespect with each passing day and night. He sighed once more, trying to sleep without a single presence of disturbance. He managed to get halfway through the cricket chirping night, soothed by them as they made a symphony that he always adored to let his eager ears to hear since he was an innocent, wide eyed child but that was the past. He remained his youthful self, never speaking out if turn or being rude. He was uncertain of the future, finding that life was meant to be with a kind soul but knew that the other King would probably trust him.

Eventually .. the other King probably would love him. But as for now he would accept little gestures from the other King. He awoke from a cruel nightmare, gasping for breath as if he was dangling from the ground with a noose around his neck. He felt as though he was also back on the battlefield fighting alongside his brave father. He too had many struggles in his long past. He had been around to see the past that seemed to never fade from the recesses of his mind and the horrors delving deep in his heart. He was still eager to gain his lover's affection and so much more. He looked at the four walls of the room frantically, soon sighing with relief that the bodies that he saw like in his past was not there, he was in his room and in the King's massive castle once more. Whew ..

[DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes]

Beriadan had come into his cousin's room with the paint that he had applied ever since his cousin had agreed to Binding with the rival kingdom's ruler. He still had his reservations towards such a union but he had seen his family fall and he was seeing his cousin fade before his very eyes. His king rarely slept or ate, he rarely did anything that used to bring joy to him, and the advisor and high councilman worried for Erumollien.

So it was unsurprising that he had immediately sent for the mind healers to be fetched when he came upon the sight of his cousin lying upon the floor with tears staining his cheeks. How no one heard his cries was beyond him. He loathed himself for being deaf to his kinsman's suffering. He knew he was several doors away but the superior hearing of the High elves should have tipped him off that those cries he heard was not the wind.

"Erumollien, why do you do this to yourself." He spoke softly as he lifted his cousin up onto his bed just as the healers burst in. He set aside the paint and decided he shall not reapply them on his dear cousin that day. Traditions be damned but he must find a way to keep his cousin from fading away from him.

He stepped out of the room and wondered to himself why the king's intended never woke from slumber to wonder at the grieving song his cousin surely would have sung, or even have heard his cries. But he supposed those that were not of the favoured did not understand or have too much to feel from those that are closer to them.

He stayed outside his cousin's room, asking for the king's papers to be sent to him so he may overlook them to see if he can help his kin. He sighed and called for a guard, "Announce that for today I shall be holding open court for the king is in need of rest." He looked inside Erumollien's room and saw his cousin looking ashen despite his dark skin, the healer's hands glowed with an otherworldly light as they placed a hand upon his King's eyes, ears, mouth and chest. He knew that they were taking away the darkness in his heart that had begun consuming him since his family's death but he also knew that to fade was almost lethal for them. He knew that it might be too late and he might be forced to see his last family wither away til he was nothing.

The only mercy was as far as he could see, the king will be with his family if he dies and his intended does not need to trouble himself. From what he observed from afar, this Tristan-King was just deluding himself into thinking he was nurturing affections for his cousin. And he would rather go through the fires of the Other than see his cousin be falsely loved due to a delusion.