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Chapter Text

—Anise—

Anise knew she was being watched. Regardless of whether the man was capable of hiding himself well, there seemed to be no plausible way for him to do so in this crowd—he was far too discernible. Tall and slender, he was clad in the fine, grey robes of a mage that matched his inordinately light, silvery irises. Atop handsome, sculpted cheeks, his piercing gaze cut like a dagger from underneath his hood, slicing through the heavy ambiance of the tavern from the moment she walked in.

From that point onward, the usual bustling and chatter of drunken hunters and dancing village girls went on around them. She caught his glance intermittently throughout the night, and held it once with a truculent grin until he was forced to look away. He knew what she was, that much was clear—a lost Child of the Elder blood. No doubt he too, was here to abduct and abuse the extraordinary magical talents that she inherited. 

Granted, this feat was impressive—not many had managed to track her lineage successfully. There were a few that managed to find her before this mage, though every last one of them failed in their conquest of her magic—he would fail as well. 

Anise noted his true height as he stood, expectedly aiming to follow her down the hallway of the large tavern. She’d a job to do here tonight and would have to dispose of this man quickly. A bit of entertainment never hurt, and she would happily warm the Elder Blood before an exhausting assignment—like stretching her legs before taking off in a run. And the mage, in turn, would pay for daring to presume that he could spirit her away for his own purposes. 

—Avallac’h—

A heavy instinct coiled in Avallac’h’s chest when the woman entered the tavern. 

After spending years traveling across space and time, he relished in finally finding a lost descendant of the Elder Blood, a final plea of hope that would save his world from the White Frost. Their encounter this evening would prove invaluably important, for if she refused, the fate of his world would be one of devastating winter and ice. 

He needed to find a way to explain this to her.

By the elegant robes she wore, Avallac’h wondered if she, perhaps, had been exposed to the arcane arts at some point in her life. And by the way she moved about the room, he sensed her rising apprehension and awareness of his observance. Though her movements appeared intently nimble and feminine, strength and resolve rippled under every wave of her hand and pivot of her heel. She was attempting to draw him into a false sense of security. Avallac’h lowered his chin approvingly—not only was she powerful, she was clever and aware as well. 

No doubt she’d been stalked and hunted many times before, and learned to lure her enemies thusly in the hardest was possible. He had no such intentions, naturally, except that his motives may appear more forward that he’d intend, when they’d finally speak. But the urgency of the danger could not and should not be understated—informing her of the impending threat to her realm, as well as his own, may suffice to convince her that their interests align. 

Avallac’h furrowed a brow as he watched her turn and saunter gracefully toward a hallway at the far end of the hall, throwing him a defiant glance over her shoulder. He stood, making to follow her into the shadowy depths, and treaded carefully as he watched her enter a room to the far right. 

The tang of magic coated his mouth, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, listening carefully as he approached at a steady pace. As he pushed the wood of the door, it creaked as it opened before him, revealing a vast, empty hall. He glanced about the towering pillars and smirked—recognizing the elaborate illusion of a ballroom. 

The door shut behind him, and disappeared entirely as looked back toward the sound, as phantom dancers suddenly appeared all around him. Avallac’h scanned the faces warily, recognizing more than a few. Inhabitants of Tir Na Lia, and members of his home realm. The Aen Elle—elves. 

In fact, a number of them were decidedly recognizable—members of the king’s court. Avallac’h shook his head at the blatant violation of his private thoughts, and threw a magical shield of his own up against the invasion of his mind. The dancers vanished, and a silver knife appeared at his throat instead—along with a tight grip on his left shoulder. 

“Who are you?” a feminine voice ground out over his shoulder, though he could not see her face from behind the edge of his hood. 

He raised a hand slowly, and the woman pressed the knife against his skin in turn. “I’m not here to harm you,” he said briskly, raising the other hand in a gesture of surrender. “I merely wish to speak.” 

“To me? And why is that?” she mused sternly. 

“Tell me your name first, so I may know what to call you.” 

The woman laughed. “I know the power of a name in the hands of a mage. I’ll tell you nothing until you speak—tell me who you are, and what you want from me.” 

“My name is Avallac’h Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha—an Aen Saevherne sage from Tir Na Lia.” 

Silence hardened around them. “Plenty of words that I don’t understand there, Ah-vah-lahk,” she sounded out his name carefully. “You’re from the elven realm, that much is clear to me. I have been there before. Though you still haven’t told me why you’re here, or what it is that you want from me.” 

Avallac’h raised a hand to lower his hood, turning his head slightly toward the woman. For a moment, he merely peered at her over his shoulder. Despite being a descendant of the Elder Blood, she had little to no resemblance to the original bearer of the magic—Lara Dorren. Amber eyes stared back at him intently, while light brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. 

“My people are in peril, and I have come searching for one lost descendent of Lara Dorren—one who carries the Elder Blood. I believe you can save my realm, and all others, from a catastrophic event that is bound to envelope all life in winter and ice.” 

“You…” she paused. “You mean the White Frost, don’t you?” 

The knife disappeared suddenly from his neck. “Yes,” he nodded surprisedly. “You know of it?” 

Anise bobbed her head silently, trailing her eyes off to the side. “Actually, yes,” she conceded, looking toward him sharply. “And of all the descendants of the Elder Blood, I never expected I would be called to deal with it.” 

“Do you know the others?” Avallac’h inquired eagerly. 

“I don’t know them personally,” she shook her head. “I’ve only ever felt their existence. A connection in our blood, you might say.” 

“Would you be able to find them?” 

“No,” she murmured. “Believe me, I have tried.” 

Disappointment settled in Avallac’h’s chest, and he tilted his head as he observed the woman’s features. “So, what is your name?” he asked again. 

The woman lifted her gaze to meet his, and Avallac’h’s eyes flickered down to the subtle grin that tugged on her lip. “My name is Anise. We-”

Anise was interrupted by the sound of a banging door. Avallac’h watched as she blinked off to the side, and a door appeared in the direction of her gaze. She looked back at him, 

“We may discuss this after my business here,” she said. 

“There is little to discuss,” Avallac’h interjects, stepping into her path as she turns toward the door. “I need you to return with me to the land of the Aen Elle—if only for a time. You may travel there and back as you wish,” he added reluctantly—lying through his teeth to the woman. 

He knew there would be no return from Tir Na Lia. The king would never permit the woman to flee—however he would constrain the magic of the Elder Blood, the woman would not be allowed to leave. 

Guilt twinges slightly in his chest as he watches her spare a contemplative glance, and nod slightly. “Very well, I will help you. After my business is dealt with here.” 

Her hair nearly flew over her shoulder as she turned, rather dramatically. Avallac’h narrowed his eyes at the demonstrable confidence in the way her hips swayed, and he watched for a moment as she strode toward the door, blinking away the thought as he followed after her in a brisk pace. 

In an instant, Avallac’h watched the illusion melt away, and they returned to the tavern. He looked about the empty bedroom before stalking out through the open doorway, noting the unusual silence awaiting him at the end of the hall. 

Dozens of eyes were now centered on Anise, as she stood over the weakened body of a young woman laying beside an island fire. Even the men behind the counter stopped working to observe the scene, and Avallac’h cut through the crowd to the woman’s side. 

Testing how close he could stand without her protesting, Avallac’h neared the woman slightly—prepared to act if the Elder Blood lost control in the middle of the room. 

The woman neither protested, nor reacted to his proximity as she raised both arms gracefully into the air. She, too, was silent. 

Gasps arose throughout the crowd as pale green light bled into her arms and forearms, streaming further down the rest of her body. The woman suddenly began to rise from the ground, rising further and further as Anise lifted her arms. 

Avallac’h turned his attention to Anise’s stern profile, eyeing the way she peered so intently at the figure levitating before her. 

“Aman, aman,” she muttered in a dual voice, and the greenness of her arms intensified to a pale white light. “Esvall nethal aimene!” 

Avallac’h’s eyes widened at the magical incantation, and his lips parted at the way the young woman’s body reverted to an even younger form. Slowly, she descended to the ground, and his gaze hardened with suspicion and sharp realization—this woman was more dangerous than he’d anticipated. He had never seen the power of the Elder Blood used in this way, and he lifted his arms slowly as Anise staggered a bit. 

She caught herself in time to keep from falling over, but that hardly deterred Avallac’h from stepping closer to her. “Where did you learn this magic?” he muttered darkly. 

Anise rolled her eyes toward him heavily, shaking her head and panting lightly. “Later,” she murmured. “This is not the time.” 

Avallac’h pressed his lips together tightly, scanning the woman’s face. A glimmer of pity shone through his expression as he watched her collect herself—whoever taught her to control her powers did so very poorly. 

He laid a hand on her shoulder to steady her, and Anise looked toward it sharply, before looking up at him. “You’re right,” he said. “We will discuss this at a later time. For now, you must rest.” 

She shook her head. “The White Frost isn’t resting, is it?” she said, straightening up. “We should go to your realm.” 

“Wait,” he said, surprised by her eagerness. “You may want to collect yourself a bit.” 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” she responded sharply. “I know my bounds, and I haven’t reached them yet. Let us go—besides,” she paused, and Avallac’h stiffened visibly as she scanned his length. “The land of the Aen Elle must have a more comfortable bed than the one I found here.” 

“Why are you so eager?” he asked suspiciously. 

Movement flickered in her brow, and Avallac’h narrowed his gaze at the flash of a memory that danced across her eyes. “This is what I do, sage. And I could not stay here long one way or the other, now that I have used the Power. There are others who will find me here. I may as well leave.” 

Despite the bustling going on around them, Avallac’h held Anise’s gaze silently for a moment before conceding. 

“Very well,” he said, stepping back with a nod. “If you insist.” 

“I do. Let’s go.” 

Chapter Text

—Avallac’h—

Pillars and large, open windows revealed the beautiful architecture of dusk setting over the elven city outside, but this only seemed to interest Anise. With her in tail, Avallac’h strode toward the end of the throne room, only to be disappointed at the sight of Eredin standing beside the empty throne. 

 “Aen Saevherne,” Eredin hissed in a low voice. “You have returned to Tir Na Lia, I see. And with a guest, no less—how droll of the king to miss this sight.” 

“Where is Auberon?” Avallac’h asked darkly, with equal disregard for courteous greetings. 

“The king is away.” 

 “Clearly—where has he gone?” 

Eredin’s eyes trailed over to the woman. “If you tell me why it is you’ve come, perhaps I will send for him.” 

Avallac’h glanced over his shoulder as the woman looked back from the windows, meeting his gaze before peering over at Eredin standing beside a throne. He turned to respond, but before he could speak, she strode in front of Avallac’h.  

“You’ve a problem.”  

“Anise,” he mumbled her name, and she gave him a sidelong glance. 

“And what problem might that be?” Eredin asked, a subtle grin tugging on the side of his mouth. 

 “For the king’s ear only,” Avallac’h interjected, stepping forward carefully and laying a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Come,” he added quietly. 

 Anise narrowed her eyes at him, and glanced at Eredin once more before turning to walk away with Avallac’h. The sound of Eredin’s clanking armor faded as they stalked further away from the throne, where she finally turned and looked at the elven mage. 

 “That was a little strange. And abrupt.” 

 “You’re not to speak before him again,” Avallac’h retortsed sharply. “Not of anything I don’t permit you to speak of—nor of anything at all, if I instruct it, while you’re here. Do you understand?” 

 The footsteps stopped beside him just outside the palace doors, and he looked over to see the woman peering down at him from the top of the steps, arms crossed. 

She sighed as she trailed her eyes around the area. “You know, I’m not sure I like the weather here.” 

He furrowed a brow at her. “What?” 

“I’m not sure I like it here, in fact, I’m not sure I’d like to stay.” 

Avallac’h parted his lips reluctantly, understanding the game. He stared intently as she descendsed the stairs. “Let me make one thing clear to you, Aen Saevherne,” she lifted her chin up proudly as she closes the space between them. Something dark passds over her expression at first, but with a brisk decision flashing across her eyes, it abated to a gentler assertion. “Order me like that again, and I will explicitly go out of my way to do the opposite.” 

Avallac’h frowned. “I would rather have you think me rude, than dead. Eredin is the last person in this palace I would trust—or advise you to trust. You think me rude, but I am merely trying to act on the best decision. There are those who would seek to abuse the power you hold, I know you know this. It must be preserved.” 

Something sank in the woman’s expression as she peered up at him—so abruptly, that it roused a quick twinge of discomfort in Avallac’h’s chest. He watched for a moment, observing her delicate profile as she shook her head. 

“I wasn’t clear—you must explain your decisions to me, and discuss them with me henceforth. I understand you wish to preserve my blood,” she said disdainfully. “But there’s also a person living within it that must be preserved, and I protect her first and foremost—I protect myself, and I am more than capable of doing so. From all manners of harm.” 

“I don’t doubt that you do,” he nodded. “But in other matters, especially those of Tir Na Lia, you will need to trust my judgement.” 

She blinked upward, meeting his eyes for a moment. “I will decide which of your judgements to trust, but I ask that you respect me enough, then, to discuss your thoughts with me. I walked in there blind to the danger you speak of now. If I’m to work with you in any way, you must at least try to consider me a partner.” 

Avallac’h raised a brow as a sense of approval sets in—perhaps she’d be more cautious than he thought, though she hadn’t particularly demonstrated it in the throne room. “Very well.” 

A glimmer of movement flickered through her cheekbones, and she took off in a steady stride ahead. An amused grin tugged on Avallach’s lip as he watched her, “Do you know where you’re going?”

She paused, and her head moves side to side as she glanced about her, and then pivoted toward him. “Well I’m sure you’ll tell me, and then I will,” she said smoothly.

Avallac’h shook his head slightly, and gestured in the direction of the leftmost cobbled path, leading into the city under the cover of impending darkness. 

—Anise—

Anise slowed somewhere at the end of the path, allowing the mage to surpass her, and trailed behind him through the streets of Tir Na Lia. Glinting lamp posts, pristine water fountains and pointed roofs—everything was just as she remembered it from the last time she’d been here, while training to use the transportive powers of the elder blood. 

 She slowed behind him as he came up to the door of a house, conjuring a key in his hand. 

“Is this your home?” she asked, scanning the modest height of the little home. 

“Yes,” he answered flatly, unlocking the door. 

With a wave of his hand, a fire appeared in the far corner of the room, illuminating the sight of papers and books strewn across fine tables and shelves—even the ornate chesterfield sofa. And, on the other side of the room, a small dining area and staircase led to a higher level. 

Anise watched as the mage strode toward the stairs, and stopped at their base. She shuffled across the floor a bit uncomfortably—she hadn’t expected to be staying in the man’s very home. 

“If you follow these stairs,” he gestured to them. “You will find a bedroom. You may stay there for the time being, I will sleep here.” 

Anise furrowed a brow, sparing the couch a sidelong glance—did he intend to sleep on that? Certainly, he couldn’t expect to sleep with her in his bed, if that was his offer for her lodging. Still, she’d be crass not to appreciate being given the more comfortable arrangement. 

She nodded as he walked by, and met his silvery gaze for a moment. “Thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” he mumbled. 

“You’re offering a stranger your bed,” she said, turning toward him with a smirk. “And not in the pleasant way. It’s more than I’ve ever gotten.” 

Avallac’h glanced at her before lowering himself into the chair beside the fireplace, and shook his head. “I find that hard to believe.”

A painful memory flashed through Anise’s expression, and she smirked at the flames beside him. “Try shackles.” 

Silence hardened between them. “Who imprisoned you?” 

“My family,” she said. “But… I suppose shouldn’t have brought that up. I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s alright.” 

 The mage nodded. “Yes, that’s alright.”  

Anise loosened a bit. 

“You should go,” Avallac’h said, nodding his head toward the stairs. “Get some rest—I saw how that incantation taxed you.” 

She grinned. “I should, but it wasn’t all that taxing.” 

 “Did your family teach you such magic?” Avallac’h asked abruptly, as though he’d been waiting for the opportunity to ask. 

Her smile faded a bit as she bobbed her head. “Yes and no—we knew many practitioners of it. When my powers were discovered, many were asked to help me learn to control them.” 

 “A wise decision.” 

“Perhaps,” Anise said. “I’d call that debatable.” 

The mage furrowed a brow. “How do you mean?” 

“Their methods did not leave me unscathed, in more ways than one.” 

Anise held his silver gaze for a moment, and crosses her arms as he looked about her searchingly. Finally, he responded softly, “I see.”  

She lowered her chin. “Mhm,” she murmured, turning to shuffle slowly toward the staircase. 

“Anise,” his deep voice called her back. She stopped, looking back in time to see a glimmer of reluctance in his expression. 

“Yes?” 

“You’ll find a tome upstairs, about the royal family and the monarchal structure of Tir Na Lia. I suggest you read it before you go to sleep.” 

She nodded. “I’ll see if I can find it. Good night, Avallac’h.” 

“Good night.” 

The stairs creaked beneath her weight as she climbed them, arriving at a doorless room, with barely enough room for the bed laying underneath the window—much less the bookshelf at its end. She climbed onto it slowly, noting its cold stiffness from a lack of being used, and sat by the window for a moment—forgetting Avallac’h’s instructions to find and read the correct book on the shelf. 

Another job—that’s all this was.

At least the city view was nice. 

Chapter Text

—Anise—

The beautiful sights of Tir Na Lia did nothing to stay the horrible nightmares, and Anise reeled through one dream after another, until she sat up sharply—feeling her stomach turn over at the lingering images. A cold sweat dripped down the side of her face as she hyperventilated for a moment, not recognizing the bed she’d woken up in—nor the small, constricting room. It took a moment for the recollection to settle, though the nausea hardly abates. 

Quickly, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and conjured a simple robe. Throwing it over her shoulders and tightening the sash over her waist, Anise flew out the door and down the stairs. The fire dimmed, and she barely caught a glance of Avallac’h laying on the couch, stirring in the darkness at the sudden movement in his home. 

Clasping a hand over her robe, she burst from the front door and staggered toward a nearby fountain, throwing herself over the cold, stone railing as her heart raced against her chest. 

Calm, calm, calm! Her inner voice repeated. The Elder Blood flickered in her veins, but Anise had long since learned to control it—her body’s response to the terrifying dreams were another story. 

Torture and experiments that bordered on mutilation… Oh yes, they’d taught her control—taught her to withstand the harshest of bodily harms. But the effects they’d had on her mind were harsher and longer lasting, and she never learned to fully cast them aside. Instead, she shuffled them to the depths of her thoughts, and in turn, her body learned to react to their rare resurfacing. The combined effort to control the Elder Blood and draw herself from this state made it an exhausting affair.

Tears welled in her eyes as she gripped the stone, not caring a bit about the way it tore at her fingernails. One shallow pant after another, the panic slowly subsided, draining all her energy with it. 

“Anise?” she heard Avallac’h’s voice behind her, and barely turned her head in his direction, before feeling her vision fade. 

“Av…llac’h,” she whispered, waving a hand through the air, vaguely in his direction. 

It fell to her side, and she lifted it up again—this time, it was caught by another hand. The elven sage kneeled beside her, and another appeared behind her back. 

“I’m… sorry,” Anise murmured in a haze, as he lifted her silently. She protested as Avallac’h hand disappeared from around her wrist, to take her by the knees and lift her up. His steady breath fanned her neck as he froze, peering at her intently. “No,” she sighed, and laid a hand on his shoulder, pushing him away slightly. “I can walk,” Anise nods, trying to convince herself of the fact more than him. 

—Avallac’h—

Anise was like a ghost, the way she fled from the house. It took Avallac’h a moment to realize what was happening, and he barely had a moment to throw on the topmost layers of his robes before embarking after her out the door. 

It didn’t take long to spot her crouched over the nearby fountain, her pale, golden robe splayed out behind her slender form against the ground. Avallac’h approached her slowly at first, assessing the extent of her stability, before nearing her more comfortably. 

“Av…llac’h,” he heard her murmur his name, and was stricken by the desolate countenance as she slowly turned to look at him—never in all his travels and encounters had he seen such age-worn weariness in any creature’s eyes. 

A moment passed before he recollected his purpose, watching as her hand rose and dropped before him. He quickly kneeled beside her, catching her wrist as it fell again, and lifted her slowly. Avallac’h looked over her once for signs of injury, expressly ensuring not to note the looseness of her robe—as well as how delicate she felt within his grasp—as he released her hand to lift her off her feet. 

“No,” her hand reappeared on his shoulder, pushing him back, and Avallac’h was stunted. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but her eyes remained cold and distant as she steadied herself. “I can walk,” she mumbled, though her voice was frail. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he inquires darkly, watching as she stumbled a few steps away from him. 

She stopped. The moonlight cast a shadow against her cheekbones as she turned and peered at him, the waves of her light brown hair cascading about her. Avallac’h pressed his lips together as an instinct plucked at his chest, urging the admittance that the woman was beautiful, in the most ethereal way that she possibly could be. 

“I had a nightmare,” she mumbled, and the resolve faded from her eyes as she turned away. 

Just one step later, she fell to the ground, and Avallac’h strode to her side. Wisps of green light flickered around her forearms, and she let out a sharp exhale as she tensed—suppressing them back into nothingness. Suppressing the Elder Blood, which, no doubt, was throbbing to whisk her away through reasonless self-defense.

Pity settled in his chest as he peered down at her. Once again, Avallac’h knelt at her side, reaching under her shoulders as he laid a hand atop her back. He closed his eyes as an incantation rose deep in his throat. “Gvaed, gvaed m’corth,” he muttered. “S’vylthaen.”  

Anise let out a breath of relief as her body relaxed, and she fell against his support, clutching the forearm that was stretched across her shoulders. For a moment, she merely caught her breath, and leaned her head against his upper arm. Even Avallac’h could sense her pain abating, her racing heartbeat slowing to a calmed state. 

Finally, she rose—and he rose with her. She spared him an embarrassed, sidelong glance as she trailed her eyes down to the ground. “Th—thank you,” she murmured, raising her hands up to cradle her arms. 

Avallac’h nodded—the only response he could muster. 

“I’m so sorry,” her eyes flickered back to him as he stepped away, looking over his disheveled robes. “I woke you up—I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s alright,” he shakes his head. “Though I have trouble believing that a nightmare instigated all this.” 

Shame coiled in the woman’s eyes as she peered at him, and without so much as a nod, she turned away pointedly—hiding her face as she strode back to the home. A few steps in, she stopped and looked back at him. “Are you coming?” she asked, uncertainty and hesitation steeping in her tone. 

Avallac’h narrowed his eyes at her slightly, reading the utter unwillingness in her expression to discuss what happened. He sighed, dropping his shoulders as he shook his head reproachfully, and the woman turned away again.

All was silent for the rest of the night.