A Conflict of Interest.

[AnyOtherName]

Closed for Maka.

"Of course, Lady Tyrelliaire. It would be my honor to tutor your son." The speaking woman did not break eye contact even as she bowed her head to her Queen.

"My thanks are great, Elder." The formal and tight expression of the crowned woman softened towards the elf, who was one of few trusted friends. "I tell you, Nathaniel is a brilliant boy. His not taking to the sword is nothing for him to hold against himself, and yet he does." The Queen paused and watched her friend closely, as if attempting to draw her to say something in response. To which, the other woman did not. "Tell me..." she continued after some moments. "Do you think he has the potential for magic?"

"Potential? ...Maybe. I can't guarantee--"

"He must have something, Setharia. He is my first born."

The sorceress tilted her head by a single degree. "He has the King's blood, a throne that awaits his name, a vast wealth...and he is brilliant. Some would call him lucky."

"...He needs to learn to wield magic."

"He'd be the first full blooded human to do so," Setharia reminded her Queen. "Magic isn't--"

"Spare me." The woman's words were emphasized by a dismissive gesture of her hand. "I understand. You'll do your best. He's already been informed and should be prepared to accompany back to your holdings. I expect you'll bring him back in a year's time?"

"A year? That's not even remotely possible."

"He is eighteen. Our House has some very promising prospects for him and such contracts cannot wait."

"Hannah," the elf spoke sternly. "What you ask is nigh impossible, as it is. I need at least five years. Even then, I cannot promise--"

"Two years."

"Five years."

"Two years. By then he either has the slightest glimmer of magic and you keep him for as long as you want to foster it or you bring him home."

It was all so very ridiculous. Setharia bit her tongue, though, and merely nodded in agreement.

"Excellent!" Hannah Tyrelliaire wrapped her arm around the older woman's shoulders, taking to a leisurely walk. "You know, Setharia. Every time I see you it's like being in a dream."

"How so?"

"You are ageless." She looked at her companion. "Almost immortal. And you can summon the elements from nothing."

"I'm not ageless nor anything near immortal. It only seems that way to humans. And I don't will magic from nothing."

The Queen laughed and shrugged. "I won't pretend to know. Thankfully I'm not the one you need to teach."

-----​

Setharia stood by the palace gates, not bothering to so much hold the reins of the white horse that peacefully waited only a short distance behind her. The woman was just over 300 years old, appearing to be the human equivalent of one in their late 20's. Her skin was fair, her hair a medium brown with a warm tone, and her eyes more green than emeralds. Despite being named a sorceress or an elemental mage, the woman wore light leather armor and carried two swords. No one doubted that she knew how to use them.

She watched as Nathaniel approached. By all appearances, he had said his goodbyes and no one accompanied him as he walked his horse to the gate. Setharia was somehow surprised that this event was not being turned into some grand ceremony: it seemed to be the Queen's way, to memorialize all marks of life as much as she could. Sparing any more thought on the matter, the elf focused her attention on the Prince and his regard of her.

The elf said nothing as Nathaniel came within such a proximity that he halted. It suddenly struck Setharia how unbelievably handsome the man had become: he had been a cute kid, to be sure, but the elf hadn't seen him in eight years.

She had served the King(s) directly from the time of Nathaniel's great grandfather's reign until what could be considered recently (for an elf). During such employment she was held dear by the royal family, was nearly considered a member herself. She liked to think that she still was.

Seeing Nathaniel, it brought back a wash of memories. She had cared for him, saw him every day for the first ten years of his life. The woman had entertained the little Prince with illusions and other displays of magic, a practice which his parents had not appreciated at the time. "A gross waste of the Elder Mage's talent" or some such nonsense. Setharia served the King, yes. Swore to use her power for his will, swore to protect his House. But in times of peace, she felt like little more than an aunt or older sister. She loved it. And she was loved.

Until... What had they told the children? She left them for some undefined emergency regarding those of her own bloodline, or she had given in to wanderlust, or...well, she hadn't been around to know what they had been told, exactly. Setharia hadn't even said goodbye. She simply disappeared. A regret, certainly. But one she couldn't fix even if she had the ability to travel back in time.

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel Tyrelliaire had made two far-reaching decisions when he was ten years old.

At eighteen, he was young and tall, with a body lean, hard-lined and straight-backed like a young oak. He held himself with total assurance and confidence. His eyes were a celestial shade of blue and very bright, and they held an unearthly wisdom far beyond his years. Those strange eyes had been captivating and entrancing females since his childhood -now he had come of age, the women of the court virtually melted under his intense gaze. His hair was dark and smooth, falling to his shoulders and held back by a band of intricately twisted silver, a sapphire set in its centre. His regal features were still and composed, but for the occasional grin that flickered across them, bringing warmth and mischief to the depths of those cerulean eyes.

From his childhood onwards, Nathaniel had performed brilliantly at everything he'd set his mind to. It would have been incredibly frustrating, if charming people hadn't been one of the things at which he was so good. He'd become a champion horseman, a gifted linguist, a scholar of history, politics and economics with a grasp of the fields that rivalled some of the realm's greatest experts. The only thing he couldn't do was the one thing absolutely required of a human prince -he could not wield a sword.

Perhaps the mischief could all have been traced back to his first lesson in swordsmanship. The ten year old Nathaniel listened quietly and patiently as the master explained the history of the art, the different schools and philosophies of swordsmanship, and finally concluded by quoting one of the great historians of the blade, who had given it as his opinion that swordsmanship was the unique gift of humanity. The gods had taught their ancestors the secrets of the blade, just as they had given the elves the secret of magic.

And something in Nathaniel's brilliant blue eyes had flickered. He had never mentioned that moment to anyone, not even to Setharia. And he had never truly applied himself to the art of the sword. He knew what he wanted. It wasn't mastery over a simple span of iron. It was sorcery.

He'd loved Setharia more than anyone else growing up. She was like a wise older sister, always by his side, knowing strange things that no one else knew and telling him wonderful stories. She knew so much and was held in such great respect, and yet she still always took the time to listen to his childish discoveries and wonders and little tragedies. She was like no one else at court and the proof was in the gorgeous illusions and displays that she produced for him; dazzling, swirling tableaux of light and colour, rich feasts for the senses and hints of other and more vivid worlds beyond the one he knew.

He'd always wanted to be able to perform magic. It was entirely impossible, of course. Humans with some elven blood could sometimes perform some cantrips, even work their way to possession of a few spells of lesser power, but for full-blooded humans such as the prince, the books of magic were firmly closed. He didn't care. He had decided he would learn magic, and so it would be.

The second decision came a few months later, when Setharia broke his heart by disappearing. He tumbled into her chamber one dawn, to find it blank and empty.

"Elves are like that," his mother had said when he came to her, eyes red with tears. "It's useless trying to keep them in one place, like trying to pin down smoke, and they don't understand goodbyes, maybe because they live so long. According to all the records, Setharia has always been that way, with every king she's served. She'll reappear in five, ten, twenty years and serve us again."

"It won't be that way when I'm king," said Nathaniel. "Or at least, when she does go, I'll know why and where and sometimes I'll go with her."

Hannah frowned at him. Her son had a way of speaking softly, yet with absolute confidence, at times that was disconcerting in a child.

"Oh?" she said, trying for a playful tone. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm going to marry her," he'd said quite simply.


-----

Now Nathaniel strode out of the palace gates. The truth was that his mother, who thrived on ceremony, had planned an elaborate leavetaking ceremony three days from now, filled with declamations, long speeches, flourishes and poetry-readings. It sounded very tedious. Nathaniel had simply slipped out without a word to anyone this afternoon, arranging to meet Setharia here. Elves never bothered with goodbyes, so neither would he.

His eyes lit up as they fell on Setharia. Many a young lady of the court would have murdered to be the object of Nathaniel's present admiring gaze. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding in. He'd always remembered Setharia as beautiful but the memory fell far short of the vision of loveliness before him. Rich, soft brown hair was tinted with honey-shades, eyes shone like emeralds in an enchantingly beautiful face. Simple, well-crafted leather armour clung like a second skin to the shapely curves of a slender, lithe body. There was many a village-story about lovely elf maidens stealing a man's heart away with but a glance from their eyes -looking at Setharia now, Nathaniel understood them.

"Setharia!"

The moment of rapt contemplation broken, he raced to her, picking her up in a close bear-hug.

"It's so good to see you again."

 

[AnyOtherName]

He called her name and Setharia felt her heart jump. A wide smile spread over her lips, an expression of joy she hadn't shown in the last eight years. Her time away from the House of Tyrelliaire had been solemn. Lonely. She had realized it at the time, of course, trading books for people and studying in lieu of company. But she hadn't realized how absolutely miserable it had all been until she watched Nathaniel run towards her. An entirely human gesture, surely, but a charming one. Short life spans seemed to inspire those cursed with it to embrace every moment.

Setharia choked back any further sentiments on the topic. There would be plenty of time for that. Two years, at least.

Nathaniel wrapped his arms around her and she gave a surprised and happy squeal as she felt her feet leave the ground. Setharia stood roughly 5'5", which was pretty tall considering her heritage, but Nathaniel was tall for a human so there remained a considerable gap between them. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, cradling around his neck, returning his enthusiastic hug moreso by nuzzling her face against the side of his.

"It's so good to see you again."

And not a hint of resentment. A good discovery, though unexpected. Setharia had only made the assumption based on generalities of Nathaniel's race, though she had always hoped the Prince would be better than that.

But could he be trusted with magic? Probably not. It was the worst type of blasphemy to share that kind of gift with a human. They weren't meant for it. Nathaniel's father had served as a prime example that they simply could not handle that sort of power, even if they did not hold such directly. Humans were too ambitious, too willing to decimate their enemies to gain whatever it was they wanted. If their hands were not forced to risk their own blood in such campaigns...

Setharia drew herself back just far enough to look upon Nathaniel's face. His eyes, they had always been gorgeous, but the mage was surprised to see that they managed to evolve into an even more intricate beauty. Or, perhaps, it was only that she had missed gazing into them so deeply.

"It's wonderful to see you," she returned with a bright smile. "...You've certainly grown up since I saw you last."

 

[Maka]

Setharia gave a happy little squeak as Nathaniel effortlessly picked her up. She impulsively threw her slender arms around his shoulders and rested her smooth, flawless cheek against the side of his face. She smelled exactly as he remembered -a warm, clean sylvan smell like freshly cut grass and pine needles. He inhaled deeply. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

She drew her head back to look up at him, looking intently into his eyes. Her own vivid eyes, a deep green like the depths of the forest, shone. Her mouth, delicate and lovely and seemingly formed for kisses, was curved in a joyous smile.

"It's wonderful to see you," she said. "... You've certainly grown up since I saw you last."

"On the outside, maybe," said Nathaniel with a mischevious grin. "Inside, I'm still just the kid who used to follow you round everywhere."

He set her gently back down on the ground.

"But you! You really haven't changed at all. My mother said it would be that way, but hearing that is one thing -seeing it is another."

He shook his head in wonder.

"You're as beautiful as I remember you," he said reflectively. "Trust me, that is no mean feat."

He brushed a wisp of silky-soft brown hair away from her face, his deep blue eyes intent on her face. When he spoke, his tone was light, and without any resentment, but deep feeling was evident in his eyes.

"We all love you here, Setharia. Why did you stay away from us so long?"

 

[AnyOtherName]

His response made her smile brighten even more. She gave a small laugh, recalling the ‘kid who used to follow her round everywhere’ with only the greatest of fondness. His presence had never been a burden. She loved him, more than anything, and had since the first day he was born. Looking in to his eyes, it was like seeing Light itself. Setharia had sought to gain his attention as much as he did hers; even at a very young age, Nathaniel presented surprisingly complex conversations and seemed to grasp whatever Setharia had to offer on the subject in return. Spending time with him was more rewarding than any day at court or battle.

He set her back on the ground, easing her from toe to heel before releasing her to stand on her own feet. He spoke that she had not changed at all, which was a common enough remark for an elf that lived in a predominately human society to hear throughout their lives. She merely gave a nod as he shook his head in wonderment. Then, he added: "You're as beautiful as I remember you. Trust me, that is no mean feat."

It was intoxicating to hear him speak. Setharia wasn’t sure if it was the quality of his voice or the words which poured from his lips that caused this effect. “You’re too kind,” she offered in response. “Thank you, Nathaniel.”

As he brushed a tendril of her hair from her face, the elf remained looking up at him, focusing her gaze in the ocean-like depth of his eyes. She needn’t hear the question to know what he was going to ask. And as he did, she saw the emotions she had invoked in him when she left without a single word. He was the only reason she had stayed as long as she had, tried to convince herself that she could keep pushing back the day that she would have to leave. She gave him no warning, even though she saw it coming, because she hadn’t wanted to worry the child. It pained her deeply.

"We all love you here, Setharia. Why did you stay away from us so long?"

She winced. The recovery was instant, though Setharia had no doubt that her companion witnessed the micro-expression. “I had to, Nathaniel. I can’t explain it now. But, when the time is right, I will tell you everything.” A slender hand lifted to touch the side of his face, gently stroking along his flesh before being drawn away. She offered him a soft smile.

“...Shall we?” she asked after a few moments, motioning towards their mounts.

She felt a stab in her chest as she turned on her heel and walked towards her horse. It hurt, to be so close to greatness and knowing that he could never be hers. For so many reasons that Setharia didn’t need reference any of them to know that her role was that of an Elder Mage, not a lover. Of course he’d have some infatuation. He was that age. She couldn’t help but feel like she had some sick advantage over him because of their previous...even their present circumstances.

You can’t seriously be thinking about this already. You’ve been in his company all of one minute.

She mounted her horse in one fluid motion, taking to her saddle with natural poise. Her emerald eyes returned to her Prince, who she couldn’t help but regard with some sorrow. “I’m truly sorry for not saying goodbye to you, or that I had to leave you at all, Nathaniel. It will never happen again, I promise you.”

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel's face tingled warmly where Setharia's delicate fingertips had brushed against it. The Elder Mage seemed to float serenely through the human world, perhaps unaware of the boiling cauldron of passions and desires that was the human heart. A thing as simple as her touch on his face was enough to arouse Nathaniel. But he was almost as interest in the slight shadow that flickered across her brilliant forest-green eyes when he mentioned her absence.

He'd always feared that Setharia would be coolly indifferent to, perhaps even uncomprehending of, the hurt that her abrupt departure had caused. It heartened him to see that it had obviously caused her heartache as well. It suggested that the Setharia he remembered, the one who had been kind and warm and sisterly to a young boy, had not simply been a mask she had adopted while he was in her charge. Though his feelings towards her now ran far short of brotherly.

Nathaniel accepted Setharia's explanation with a simple but trusting nod. He watched her mount her horse in one single, fluidly graceful movement, her body as lithe and lovely as that of a proud young fawn. Elves brought the same unbelievable grace and concentration to every task they undertook. Human and elven pairings were very, very rare but human legend spoke in awed, envious whispers of those mortal men with the incredible good fortune of experiencing the favours of elven women in the bedchamber. Demure reserve flashed in an instant into wild, wanton passion. It was said that male seed was like sweet wild honey to them, that they could not be satisfied until their supple bodies had been taken in every position imaginable. So rumour said and looking at the natural poise and composure with which Setharia sat her horse, Nathaniel somehow found himself believing it.

He leapt on to his own grey stallion in an effortless arc. Cloud sniffed the air and reared playfully, as though the new adventures and sights that lay waiting over the horizon, as though sharing his master's excitement.

Nathaniel looked across at Setharia. There was a certain sadness and a mysterious, heartfelt longing in her green eyes as she spoke.

"I’m truly sorry for not saying goodbye to you, or that I had to leave you at all, Nathaniel. It will never happen again, I promise you."

Nathaniel bowed his head. "Thank you," was all he said.

Then a playful light came into his blue eyes. "You know I said much the same thing to my mother when you left. I told her..."

Nathaniel deliberately trailed off, as though thinking better of finishing the sentence. "I think," he said, smiling at Setharia mischeviously, "I think I'll tell you what I told her another time. 'When the time is right'", he said, quoting Setharia's earlier words.

He gently spurred Cloud, who needed no incentive to be set free to gallop.

"Shall we away?"

 

[AnyOtherName]

Setharia took the reins of her mount lightly in hand, though she rarely directed the horse by such means. To one familiar, it would be immediately obvious that she had fitted the mare with a bridle rather than a bit, which seemed to emphasize the point. The existence of any gear on the horse would be nil, were they in their own lands. But long travels required some precautions. Even so, it did not appear that the Elder Mage burdened the horse to carry any more than her and a light saddle. There was a distinct lack of supplies. Without any outward indication of what the elf desired of the beast, the mare performed a short, graceful turn towards the gate.

Setharia looked to Nathaniel, listening as he spoke of discussing her with his mother, finding curiosity when he trailed off. She smiled softly as he reflected her phrasing, holding knowledge of his conversation with the Queen to himself for the time.

The Guard had begun toiling to open the gate in the same instant intent to leave was shown by the Prince and his companion. Their path was revealed under a midday sun, through the crack that steadily spread between the two heavy gate-doors as they swung outwards. It was late spring. The capitol was surrounded by beautiful rolling hills, orchids of marvelous flowering trees, and hosted a view of a primary river by the name of Syghre. Man-made channels were attached to Syghre and its tributaries, supplying the city and outlaying farms with vast fresh water sources. Truly, the Tyrelliaire reign had made some amazing advancements in their collection of providences, technologically. The quality of life they afforded their citizens was second to none as a result (comparing them to elven society would be unfair, considering the age of the race, so the statement seemed justified enough with that exclusion).

“It’s about a three day ride,” Setharia commented as her horse leisurely warmed up to a gallop. “Although, I might go so far as to mention: we can arrive as soon as you desire to be there. But you know that already.” Nathaniel was no stranger to teleportation, nor was his family. Whereas Setharia often travelled by traditional means simply for the experience and enjoyment, humans tended to be so much more in a rush than any other race in the world. Teleportation highly appealed to them, as if it saved days of their lives from being wasted one spell at a time. Setharia’s ability hadn’t been used on what anyone would call a frequent basis, except in the case of the Kings and their councils (which included the Elder Mage, of course). The family only accompanied for grand events away from the capitol. Which, at times, had brought them two seasons travel abroad in an instant, enabled them to enjoy whatever festival and associate with foreign dignitaries with the convenience of returning home in the flash of an eye. No doubt they had found some other elf to work this magic for them in her absence. It really didn’t take as much experience as one would think (and a caster of any school was typically capable), and elves, though a minority, weren’t too difficult to find.

Setharia made no assumption of his preference, and had not one herself. She had seen the lands between here and there more times than she could count, in every season. And it was particularly beautiful, in the spring. But she understood Nathaniel might be eager to see her holdings, to delve into a library of elven books on the arcane. He still had an entire adult life to travel and stare at landscapes, after all, and only two years to attempt to learn magic. To which, Setharia wasn’t entirely certain how much she could help.

She did not expect an answer from him, her statement standing as a simple reminder. It seemed fitting to ride off into the distance on such an occasion as this, and no doubt Nathaniel wouldn’t deny his horse it’s adventurous ambitions in the moment. If the travels became weary, it would be easily fixed at that point in time.

Setharia drew a simple green ribbon from seemingly (and probably) nowhere. Her reins were abandoned on the neck of the horse for several moments as she used both hands to draw back her hair, which was long enough to reach to the bend of her waist. As she banded the fabric around her gathering of tresses she glanced over in Nathaniel’s direction.

“In my conversation with your mother, she mentioned you not taking to the blade?” She watched him knowingly as she tied and made a bow of her ribbon. “I’m not convinced that you have the inability, though I didn’t say so much to my Queen on the matter.”

A hand returned to the reins, taking an idle grip. Setharia made the assumption that Nathaniel had been the one to convince his mother that trying sorcery would be the best option for him, as well. Whether she had realized it or not, the idea had definitely originated from her darling prince.

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel shook his head, smiling.

"It's only three days, and I could use the time to catch up with you. Who knows how much of a chance we'll get to talk during my training?"

Some humans had a morbid terror of teleportation and refused to use it no matter how much time it could save them. Most others were made at least a little nervous by it, perhaps all the more so because it was a completely painless experience. You were in one place, then you were in another. It was disturbingly easy. Nathaniel, however, had always been completely relaxed about teleportation because Setharia had performed it and he would have trusted her with his life.

"A half-elf called Ascander used to teleport us after you left."

Nathaniel grinned, his deep blue eyes sparkling. "He was so anxious about filling your shoes! I suppose I didn't make it any easier by always talking about you. Ascander was forever trying to sound mysterious and elven, talking about his ancestors in the forests..."

As a matter of fact, the thing that had interested Nathaniel most about Ascander had been his human father. If a human could pair with an elf...

The verdant, rolling hills around the city made for pleasant, easy riding. Both Nathaniel and Setharia were natural riders -Setharia was mystically in tune with her steed's will and intentions, whereas Nathaniel had been riding since he was a child. What Setharia could convey with her spirit, Nathaniel could communicate with subtle, almost imperceptable shifts of the corded muscles of his strong body. They rode downhill, across terraces of rich ploughed farmland and through fruiting orchards. A few farmers, recognising their prince, bowed down or shouted out homages -the Tyrelliaire family were well-beloved. Nathaniel smiled at them and raised a hand graciously.

His mother's councillors had once tried to enforce a company of bodyguards on him whenever he rode abroad, but Nathaniel had successfully given them the slip on every occasion. After two weeks of trying to catch the elusive, phantom-like prince, the councillors had given up in frustration. They had to accept Nathaniel's own argument -that for a long time, he had been able to sense danger. He had an uncanny ability to sense hostile intentions in other people.

Clinging on to her mount with slender, shapely legs, Setharia was tying her smooth, autumn-brown hair back with a green ribbon. Watching her closely, Nathaniel smiled at the line her questions were taking.

"Perhaps I could have tried harder to master the blade," Nathaniel conceded. "Perhaps I'm even a little better with it than my masters think."

He winked at Setharia.

"But my heart was never in it."

 

[AnyOtherName]

A soft smile crept over Setharia’s lips as the prince spoke of travelling conventionally as a means to speak with her; he assumed what awaited in her holdings would be a strenuous curriculum. She knew how ambitious Nathaniel could be, understood that he revered the arcane, and could only take his choice in the matter as the utmost flattery in result. He didn’t know, after all, about the reservations the elf held in the prospect of him learning anything useful. He had taken her word, as the Queen had, that the Elder Mage would at least try to teach him magic. Surely, Setharia wasn’t quite as interesting as the supposed opportunity to be the first human in the realm to wield something greater than the weapons of man.

”...Half-elf...” This word pairing, among all others offered about Ascander, over shadowed the rest.

The elf continued to hold Nathaniel in her gaze. She chastised herself in the same moment that she appraised the prince’s physical merits and, much to her shame, continued to imagine a scene between them which could lead to such an offspring.

Setharia cast her eyes ahead as she reached a hand up to lightly touch the cold metal at her neck. It was a silver choker, which covered half of the height of her throat. It was solid and plain, with only the slightest peek of leather laid between it and her flesh. The clasps on the back were a pair of heavy hooks that swung to lock into corresponding eyelets. It was odd, to say the least, particularly considering the history of elves and humans on this continent.

And endless topic, to be sure. But the note of most importance would be found in the rather recent period in which humans saw fit to enslave elves. They had been at war, ever since the ‘primal’ and ‘harmless’ tribes banded together under a single banner. Over seven hundred years of defending against the younger race’s ‘conquer’ mentality. The humans hadn’t started taking captives until shortly before Setharia’s birth, having too much of a sense of fear and lack of understanding of magic to do anything more than to kill and take things. But eventually, they observed that the elves were not all powerful.

Once they began to recognize the particulars and identities of the schools of magic, a preference in kidnapping young practitioners of holy arts emerged. Temples were raided, unspeakable things done to those taken. Many – most, even – were never seen again.

Setharia knew it all too well. Her mother was a High Priestess; a real Elder, not just one of a title a human assigned because they didn’t understand what it meant. Upon reaching a hundred years of age, Setharia had taken to the cause of recovering those kidnapped in the raids. Her mother had been so proud, seemed to forget that she had called her daughter’s magic ‘destructive’ when the skills first began to materialize. One could always choose their school, but it would always be diminished if it wasn’t of the true calling. And with Setharia’s powerful bloodlines, it seemed a waste to bend to her mother’s desire and not serve her full potential.

Which, it turned out, blossomed to be a significant force. A long time was spent considering how easy it was to kill humans and whether or not doing so was wrong. Most of the time, she and the small group she travelled sought to liberate, not destroy. If a confrontation was had, they’d take the initiative but they attempted not to take out their vengeance on a race as a whole for the actions of some.

This life persisted for a hundred and twenty-three years. Setharia spent more time in the claimed lands of the human kingdom than in the Faewood, her returns lasting only long enough to reunite the person(s) recovered to their families. On which occasions there would undoubtedly be a feast and thanks, and the mage would see her family briefly before leaving the next morning. The members of her group often exchanged, some returning for later attempts and some not.

And then she met him. Edwin Tyrelliaire, the man who changed history. A civil war in which a noble house challenged the authority of the throne was two years in, Edwin being the head of the rebellion. His fight had nothing to do with elves. But as Setharia found herself drawn to him, the man was easily swayed to forbidding raiding and enslavement of her race in exchange for her help. He was reasonable, brilliant, and...Setharia had truly loved him. As her King. They had never been lovers, and it was a prospect that was never mentioned between them.

Serving him had its benefits and consequences. When Edwin took the throne, a cold peace came to an existence with the elven kingdom. Part of the treaty agreement had been that no human would set foot in the Faewood and, quite needless to say, many elves remained bitter for the actions of ancestors. If it weren’t for wanderlust, far less would ever find reason to explore human lands at all. As it was, there was some interaction between the races. They were relatively safe around each other. And being four human generations later, at present, there wasn’t a lack of young and curious elves willing to risk the brutality they’d never witnessed in exchange for seeing more of the world. In general, things were good.

But picking sides in a human conflict? It was an unforgivable offense. Setharia was an exile, stripped of her elven name. She was forbidden to tread on the soil of Faewood just as if she were of human blood.

Her human King rewarded her for her service and she was given a permanent position in his heirs’ councils, so long as she desired such. But it was somewhat maddening, to get so close to a family only to watch them age and die in what was less than the duration of a childhood for an elf. To see a bit of Edwin in all of them, to cherish the light they all had, only to watch it be snuffed out so abruptly. Over and over. And over.

And Nathanial – he was a dazzling display. It hurt to imagine his life so fleeting.

All these thoughts and memories manifested by touching the collar, though Setharia showed nothing outwardly. Instead, she tied her hair back and made her statement about doubting that Nathaniel was incapable of wielding a blade.

His response was not unexpected. She respected that he told her the truth in the matter and refused to turn it against him, though it became a very real possibility to deny his need to learn magic.

"But my heart was never in it."

Setharia studied him for several moments. He had the inclinations of the arcane, he always had. His eyes were sharp with wisdom and sparkled with an untainted view of the world; a rare combination, to be sure. He was capable of wielding the power he sought, even if Setharia wasn’t quite sure why. He had something. The elf had made a guess of such when Nathaniel was a child, though she had never revealed her thoughts to anyone or tried to test her theory in the matter. He was much much too young at the time.

And he still was. Eighteen. A child.

Emerald eyes lingered on Nathaniel’s face. It was impossible to deny that he was a man in anything but elven theory. A realization that prompted her to imagine his exposed flesh, the bend of light as it touched the angles of his strong body...

What is wrong with you?

“Fair enough,” she responded simply. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

Stop looking at him. You’re so obvious.

She offered him a smile before turning her attention towards the path that lay before them. “I can’t promise that you’ll wield magic,” she commented as she serenely took in their surroundings. A short pause existed before she was unable but to turn her attention back to him. Her expression was serious. "I won't - I can't - lie to you. I am aware that you're well versed in history, so far as the human libraries can educate you, so you know that I am an exile of the elven kingdom. Still. I am sworn to a sacred oath not to instruct your kind in magic." Setharia would consider his reaction before continuing. "...I could not refuse the request of your mother, my Queen, but..." She sighed. Repositioned herself.

"Nathaniel," she allowed his name to hang in the air for several moments. "I cannot take this decision lightly. And know that if I teach you anything, we are both liable to be targets of assassination and your country at risk of war once again."

"...Tell me. Before I consider anything else, I must know. To what do you serve?” The most typical responses were: house, king, country, realm, family, love, or self. The elf offered no examples, preferring for Nathaniel to derive his own answer without any outside influence. She watched his expression as he considered the question, remembered how it had made her feel when she had been asked the very same one. She had been over a hundred at the time, and just barely considered an adult.

 

[Maka]

The question seemed to hang in the air. Setharia's vivid, shining green eyes were fixed on Nathaniel, her expression calm but serious and intent. Nathaniel understood the importance of her question. She was violating the most sacred laws of her kind to undertake his tuition -the least she deserved was a considered answer.

So Nathaniel reflected. What did he serve? Why had he chosen such a difficult and unpromising path to walk, with all of the easy and rewarding options that his talents and his birth offered him?

His kingdom and his people? He was devoted to their interests, it was true, but it was not the driving force in his life. He admired the men who could put their country above all else, who would die and kill for it, but he was not among them. Indeed from his earliest years, there had always seemed something narrow and insular about such an attitude. What made their realm better than their neighbours? Was patriotism as admirable in citizens of those kingdoms? Why should one take pride in membership of something one had not chosen, that one had been born into? He had put these questions to his tutors, and the answers he'd recieved had not been satisfactory.

So, humanity as a whole, perhaps even the world as a whole? It sounded lofty and noble but Nathaniel didn't think anyone could truly serve such an abstract, diffuse concept. It was an adornment, a label to hang on simpler and more basic motivations.

His family? He loved them, it was true, but if serving his family's interests was his only true motivation in life, he would not be here at all. He would have applied himself to learning the blade, knowing that it was the simplest and clearest way to serve the needs of the royal line.

Did he only serve himself, then? Did he want to learn magic to satisfy carnal needs and grant himself power over others? But that answer would not serve either. Again, a short and easy road to power and gratification of every desire he could concieve lay before him and he had instead taken a shadowy and uncertain path.

Again, his eyes scanned Setharia's lovely, impossibly perfect features. Not quite every desire. A knot of fierce, complex longing seemed to rise in his throat, so that he swallowed and spoke hoarsely.

"I serve something that I don't have words for yet. It's... truth and wisdom, but it's much more than that. It's a great joy and sadness I feel swelling up inside myself on frosty mornings; alone late at night; in the shadow of the trees on a hot summer's day..."

Most of all when I look at you.

"It's as you said. The heart wants what it wants."

 

[AnyOtherName]

She gave a simple nod in response. Inwardly, she was proud of what he had said, surprised that he had the capacity to say it such a way, and felt again conflicted as a result.

He was indeed wise beyond his years, and perhaps the first human who could truly handle magic. It didn't mean that he should or that there was any guarantee that it wouldn't corrupt him. It was an untested path, and one that was strongly warned against in all the teachings Setharia was given in her youth - as if forbidding such hadn't been enough on its own.

Why was she even considering it?

"There are two options," she announced suddenly. "The first is that I teach you in secret, whereas you pretend to be staying in my holdings for any other reason than the one you truly are. You can't, under any circumstances, show anything of your potential magic outside of specific confines within my keep. My former queen has spies everywhere in my district, even several in my own employ." Setharia's lands were nestled just along the border of the Faewood, an area she had specifically requested so that she could serve as a buffer between kingdoms. Enforce the one-way restriction of traffic, aid elves that were ready to undertake an adventure in human lands and educate them prior to their travels. Routing out the countless spies would be taxing, expensive, and unnecessary - it would only raise suspicions, and to date Setharia had done nothing for the spies to report, so their presence was harmless. "The hope being that by the time anything is found out, your powers will have had enough time to develop so that you're able to defend against whatever reprisal may come of it."

"The second option is to beg an audience with the elven Queen and her Elders, to ask permission to practice whatever art it is that is resides within you. Something is there, unawakened...no doubt they could feel it just as well as I do. Though I can't claim to know if such a presence would sway their opinion in whether or not humans should be taught anything. It is just as likely they will put us on trial for intent and refuse to give release, rightly suspecting I'd teach you even without their blessings."

"The choice in the matter is yours, Nathaniel."

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel brooded on the question, his vivid blue eyes clouded over with thought.

He was determined to learn magic but he did not wish Setharia to be the subject of any more trouble from her people than she already was. To spare her that, perhaps they should travel to the Faewood, a place he had always wanted to see, and petition the queen of the elves. Nathaniel could be highly persuasive when he wanted to be, particularly to women -although a millenia old elven queen might be difficult to charm.

But something in him rebelled at the idea of bowing down and asking permission from the Queen. It was not his own pride in his position -he would have been quite willing to sacrifice all personal dignity if it would mean becoming a mage. It was the fact that this woman and her court had exiled Setharia, his Setharia, had judged her for doing what she had had to save both races from perdition The thought made his blood boil.

Setharia was venerated among the human kingdoms for her role in bringing the benevolent Tyrelliaire dynasty to the throne, but to Nathaniel that had never been the greatest gift she had given humanity. That had not been the aid she provided but the payment she exacted -ending the bane of elven slavery. Ever since he'd learned about humanity's history as a child, Nathaniel had been profoundly glad he lived in a world where slave-taking was one of the most forbidden crimes. Setharia's actions might have saved the elves from destruction but they also saved humanity's soul.

Now she was willing, for the love she bore his family, to go before the court who had condemned and exiled her as thanks for saving them, and abase herself. Nathaniel shook his head. This would not be. He'd learn magic from the woman he loved. He didn't need permission from the people who would throw away the brightest gem in their crown.

"I want to stay and learn magic from you," he said.

He grinned, a sudden summer in his eyes.

"As for my public reason for being there... perhaps we could claim to be lovers."

 

[AnyOtherName]

Neither path was without merit or consequence, but Setharia felt a weight lifted as Nathaniel expressed that he preferred to learn from her rather than make it an immediate political issue with their neighbors. Her former queen wasn’t completely unreasonable, but she and the elemental mage had never had a conversation without hostile tones; therefore the prospect of being submissive in her company (as one would be expected to be, when begging such a favor or blessing) was less than favorable.

The downfall, perhaps, being that Nathaniel wouldn’t be afforded the best education. Setharia studied him, watched as a grin spread over his marvelous lips. The elf was more than capable, even in schools in which she did not actively practice, but she couldn’t even identify what it was she sensed in the young prince. Hopefully, three days travel would present a glimpse of –

Her train of thought was interrupted by Nathaniel’s words. "As for my public reason for being there... perhaps we could claim to be lovers."

Setharia parted her lips as if to speak, but paused.

No. That’s completely unacceptable and you should chastise him for making such a suggestion. You’re his instructor and one day you’ll be on his council. It’s one thing to imagine a secret affair, but a public ruse that would sully both your reputations?

But she didn’t speak. She closed her mouth and exchanged her surprised expression for a more thoughtful one.

It was typical of human kings to have a span of sexual freedom prior to taking a wife. Nobles, commoners, elves...it wasn’t the sort of indulgence to begrudge royalty, no matter where they found their tastes. No harm would come to Nathaniel’s reputation as a result of a pretending to be Setharia’s lover. As for her own: she felt nearly legendary in the eyes of men, whereas such gossip would be of envious tones rather than condemning ones. No doubt the news would travel into the Faewood, and her Elders would...what? Shake their heads? She was already an exile, what did it matter? The only real social consequence Setharia could imagine involved the contempt of her future queen, whomever it was Hannah saw fit to marry Nathaniel.

“...Actually. That works quite well, doesn’t it?” A soft smile came to her lips. “I swooped into the capitol, cradle robbed prince charming, and whisked him away to my holdings. It will supply my former queen with just enough amusement that perhaps she will take it at face value.” She gave a light hearted laugh and directed her gaze forward. A few moments of thoughtful silence passed before she turned her attention back to her companion to continue. “You understand, though...that we can’t really...” A pause. “I mean, of course you know.” Smooth. “Although, being in a pretend relationship is going to seriously ruin your prospects with all the lovely maidens of Daegarr. I can’t have you embarrassing me with affairs, after all.” She gave him a playful grin.

There was no doubt that the prince could have anyone he ever wanted. He was astonishingly handsome, marvelously intelligent, and of a genuinely good heart – any girl could only be so lucky.

...Too bad that girl couldn’t be her.

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel felt certain that Setharia was going to dismiss his suggestion. It was not her surprised expression, the wondering lift of her clear green eyes, the parting of her ripe lips. It was something he felt totally sure about it. He was both surprised and pleased when she agreed with the plan.

“You understand, though...that we can’t really...” She paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I mean, of course you know.”

Nathaniel's expression was innocence itself. "Oh, naturally."

His eyes caressed her face. Her features were pure elf -all touched with a wondrous, delicate, exotic beauty that transcended that of even the loveliest human maiden. Right now they were touched with a radiant flush that aroused him even further. He could imagine that lovely face arched back, that body trembling under his touch, responding eagerly, like a musical instrument, to the feelings he could bring forth in it...

"And you have no idea how much good it'll do my reputation," he added cheerfully. "Maybe you haven't heard the stories about elven women but trust me..."

He rode up behind her along the quiet country lane. His horse whinned at the proximity of her steed but, responding to his touch, remained passive and allowed Nathaniel's leg to brush against Setharia's slender thigh as he passed by.

"As for the maidens in your territory...", he said, and this time his voice was entirely sincere. "That doesn't matter. Once the news gets about that you have taken me as a lover, no maid with eyes could ever believe that I could be interested in anyone else."

He leaned around in the saddle to look back at her, his eyes affectionate and challenging all at once.

 

[AnyOtherName]

Setharia felt wash of warmth over her face in response to the mentioning of elven women, apparently being well aware of what sort of stories were told of them among human males. She had thought to look back at Nathaniel, to make some retort, but she remained looking forward. The elf couldn’t help but marvel in the sensation of her blush, having not experienced such since...she couldn’t even remember.

Her hearing tracked the progress of the prince’s horse as it approached her own. The woman’s sight was not applied until the moment that Nathaniel rode nearly abreast, her emerald eyes settling on his face. They were drawn away only momentarily to witness the brushing of the young male’s leg against hers as he passed.

Setharia blinked. Returned her gaze to her prince’s face, her relaxed expression unfaltering, and listened as he continued to speak. His compliment was sweet, albeit indirect, but it wasn’t until he looked back at her that Setharia melted.

Those eyes...

She flashed a concealing grin. “From the sounds of it, I won’t be needing to train you in flattery. It seems you can convincingly fill the role of an enamored lover well enough...”

To feel his hands exploring her flesh, to test the rumors of their respective races... Setharia suppressed a shiver. She had never experienced the intimate company of a human male but had heard her fair share of tales regarding their epic lovemaking. Human passion, the level of desire and bliss they were capable of achieving...the intermixing of their energies, it was a concoction that could drive an elf to an otherwise unachievable height. Sexually, and – in some cases – emotionally.

It was that part that Setharia worried about the most. The pain she felt with the passing of her human family, friends... The mage couldn’t accept the human condition, as much as she tried, and she felt death as if it was wrenching away a part of her own soul. Multiplying her capacity for grief, even if it was only for one person...was it really worth it?

Until now, definitely not. But as she looked upon Nathaniel...she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“...Which will leave our time mostly open for your actual training. I imagine a couple of appearances in public a day should suffice to ward off suspicions... And you’re going to keep practice with the blade; there are a few masterful sellswords I know to hire. Not because you need it, skill-wise, but because it appears normal.” A playful smirk. “Besides, I can’t bring you back to the capitol a fat and spoiled scholar. Don’t expect to be sitting around reading all day while I cater to your every need.”

...Though some of those needs are undoubtedly a wonder to service...

Her fixation on Nathaniel’s form, imagining the toned definition of his muscles beneath his smooth skin, marveling at his stature... Setharia felt a burning want from within, a spark that enflamed her heart. She had to fight it.

Have you not broken enough elven laws? Now you want to resort to taking advantage of a student, too? And he’s practically family! Not of blood...which is all that really matte-- Gods, you’re terrible. Just terrible.

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel grinned mischeviously at Setharia's dismissal of the idea that she cater to his every need. For a few moments, he just enjoyed a steamy, wildly erotic calvacade of images of Setharia attending to his most primal needs. Setharia kneeling before him, glossy brown hair swept to one side, her sweet wet mouth busy over the head of his cock. Setharia, gloriously nude, bent over in front of him, her perfect buttocks thrust provocatively into the air and a moist, pink pussy just waiting for him to ravish it... it was almost as though the thought had tapped some well deep inside him. He'd never known images as powerful or vivid.

For a moment, even he was a little nonplussed, but he quickly regained his characteristic poise.

"As you say, ma'am," he said. "No matter how the spellcraft goes, Mother will certainly be delighted if I come home knowing one end of a sword from another. And you'll certainly have a good reason for keeping in shape. A good official reason, anyway."

He grinned at her.

"Have you thought of a place to stay for the night?" he added. They were now descending from the hills into the peaceful plains and scattered copses that surrounded the capital. Nathaniel had often ridden around these farmlands and knew them well.

"I know several different farmers who'd be happy to put us up for the night", he continued. "Then again, it might be nice to camp out by ourselves somewhere."

 

[AnyOtherName]

"I would much prefer to camp, if you don't mind." Setharia took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the sunlit pastures before them, watching the graceful motion of the tall grasses and crops beyond the path as they gently swayed in the breeze. She felt the same slight wind against her face and the simple grace of nature seemed to calm her worried mind. A characteristic clarity returned to her. "The elements provide me far more comfort than any stranger could. No matter how welcoming the host or comfortable the bed, I'd rather sleep on the cold earth in the middle of a rainstorm."

"Although, certainly, I don't expect Your Highness to suffer such conditions," her tone was nothing but respectful as she returned her attention to her prince. "Obviously I lack supplies but such are easily gained. I could offer a tent, at least." A smile. "Though you'll have to share it with me. Might as well get accustomed to close quarters."

The woman wondered how long it would be before she would be able to teach Nathaniel teleportation, or if magic would apply the same way as it did to elves. Who could say if he would be able to practice multiple schools, or if his natural talent was his limit?

No doubt the man would grant her the want to sleep outdoors. She'd hear his response in the matter before offering that she had a specific location in mind, of which would require that they continue to travel for another hour. During such time, the mage abandoned serious conversation for catching up, asking Nathaniel about each of his family members, their well being, and antics (in the case of his siblings). Such talk would carry them to their destination; there were four children besides present company, three sisters and a brother (the youngest), all made of adventure and intrigue in their youth.

-----

They came upon a creek, entering a sparse grove that clung to the bank. Setharia dismounted as her horse slowed to a trot, catching her feet easily in the same moment as she spun on her heel to watch as Nathaniel approached from a close distance. "I find I am quite the creature of habit," she started to explain, her steps carrying her backwards - a necessity of the momentum the at-speed dismount incurred. "I'm very much prone to favoritism, and this spot...I used to stay here quite often." Her backwards pace slowed, in the background her horse began drinking from the stream.

A moment would pass as Setharia turned to observe the familiar layout of the area, taking a few steps as she examined the changes since her last visit. Trees had grown, of course, and a few new saplings had sprung out of the earth. Mostly, though, it was unchanged: a mercy in the human territories.

Once Nathaniel - and more importantly, his horse - were settled in the serene copse, Setharia summoned an ethereal flame in the palm of her opening hand. It burned an intense blue, and seemed to rest directly upon her skin. Wickedly bright tongues lashed at wisps of air, growing to encompass the entirety of her hand. The mage held the flames, rather close to her own breast, as the fire moved to consume her arm just beyond the bend of her elbow. She considered for a moment before giving a slight turn of her head to look at Nathaniel. She smiled. "Where do you want the fire, sweetheart?"

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel had been about to object that he did not need a tent -he was used to sleeping rough on hunting expeditions. But his objection was silenced by Setharia's comments that they'd be sharing close quarters. That was entirely too tempting a prospect.

Setharia's chosen camp site was a beautiful, quiet spot on the banks of a trickling creek. There was a pleasant, cool breeze on the air and a velvety stillness to the evening. Nathaniel breathed it in with pleasure. Life was pleasant for a prince, there was no doubt, but it was also circumscribed, hedged around with duties, responsibilities and etiquette. He'd always felt happiest when he was outdoors by himself. But it felt even better to be with his present companion.

He watched in quiet admiration as the intense blue flames crawled up her arm, wondering if he'd ever be capable of such feats. In answer to her question, he gathered together a circle of rounded stones in the middle of the grove and gestured, with a grin, to the centre of the circle.

"What school of magic does magefire belong to?"

 

[AnyOtherName]

The elf motioned her arm towards the circle of stone, her hand directing the flames with an open palm. The fire gathered as a mass near her wrist as she moved and in the moment she completed the extension of her arm the energy leaped from her in the form of a bolt. It struck the ground, splashed within the confines of rock, and picked up with intensity as it crackled within its new domain. There was very little fuel present in the ring, and as soon as the noise of burning had begun it stopped. Seemingly without need of an external energy source, the flames continued to dance, reaching to about knee height. Their heat diminished slightly, an orange color quickly bleeding in to replace the blue.

"Evocation of flame falls in the realm of the elemental. Though many study it specifically and call themselves 'pyromancers', which is a school of it's own. A purist one, which is rare given the elven ability to practice magic outside of our respective paths. I'd say that they are restricting their own school while they'd argue that elementalists merge four distinct studies into one." She cast her gaze directly into the fire. "I don't claim to know, but in my opinion learning to control one element naturally leads to the others. Nature is so much more than flames."

Setharia took a long look at her companion. The light of the fire as it reflected off of his face, highlighting his strong jaw and sharp features...the flickering of faint shadows over his perfect skin as they hid from the ever-moving flames...it was absolute beauty.

"I don't hold too much hope for elemental magic - or pyromancy - in your case. I think if you were so inclined towards my own school I'd be able to recognize it." A short pause. "Even if it is not your path, you may be able to dabble in such practices. But given the amount of time you have to..." She wasn't thinking of the two years, more so of his lifespan. Setharia was accomplished in the elemental school, and knew a few tricks of others. Though her illusions would fail to impress her own kind, and were even easily seen to be a false projection by humans. Her healing, only slightly more useful than a bandage. And this was after over three hundred years of study.

"...Perhaps we should just focus on whatever it is that comes to you naturally. We just need to figure out what that is." A silence fell over their incomplete camp as Nathaniel considered her words. After several long moments the elf continued. "I haven't the faintest idea what power resides within you, Nathaniel, but I am certain it will manifest. You need only be patient."

An impossible task in his position, Setharia would guess. Vaguely she recalled when she was nearing adulthood, excited and frightened of the true path. Frightened that she may never find her way. Excited in any other circumstance, even if she had inherited her mother's magic (which had, at one point, been a substantial fear in itself).

"I suppose it'd be in out best interest to set up camp with the last of our daylight," she spoke as she absently gazed towards the sky. "I'll go get supplies...if you'd be so kind as to tend to the horses, I will be back shortly." She'd wait to hear his reply before closing her eyes and seemingly shifting out of existence.

-----

It was no more than ten minutes later that Setharia returned, appearing sitting atop of a travel trunk with a large bag draped over her right shoulder. Teleport spells were by touch, so the task of packing was still very much in order.

"I've brought supper," she announced as she climbed off of the trunk. "After we get this tent set up, we can eat and call it an early night."

All of which happened, of course, but the full details will not be disclosed here. The tent was erected, two bed rolls and sets of blankets placed inside, and the couple dined on steaks, potato mash, and corn. There was also red wine, of which Setharia allowed them each one glass only. She wasn't sure if she was more worried about Nathaniel or herself.

By the time they finished eating, dusk had came and went, leaving the sky to the moon and the stars. A marvelous sight, and one which Setharia was often able to lose her thoughts. But tonight, even as she stared up at the wonders above her head, her mind remained firmly elsewhere.

On Nathaniel, and her desire to have him as an actual lover.

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel wondered, for the first time. He'd always been so confident that he'd be able to become a mage, that he'd accomplish something no other human had ever done before. But part of him, for the first time, doubted. Why did he think this way? Because he was a prince, and used to getting everything he wanted? He smiled wryly to himself. Did he imagine that sorcerous powers were simply yet another prerogative of royal blood.

While Setharia disappeared to get supplies for them, he wandered down by the creek and stared at his reflection thoughtfully. He sat there for a time, listening to the sweet chatter of birdsong, the drowsy hum of insects. There was a magic in everyday life, that was true. Would that have to be magic enough for him?

Then he smiled. He might become a mage and find his way into the chronicles of humanity forever -he might not. But there was one childhood vow he was determined to fulfil, and that meant more to him than all the magic in the world. Before he was done, he and Setharia would perform the oldest and the greatest spell of all time, the magic of man and woman.

He was waiting for the lovely elven mage when she reappeared, and immediately set to work helping her erect the tent and cook the meal. After the meal, Nathaniel stripped to his waist and set to his evening exercises, keeping his body hard and limber through rigorous and relentless physical exertion.

He spent even longer than usual, fuelled by the burning desire he felt raging in him all the time around Setharia. By the time he was finished, a gibbous moon glowed in the night sky and his hard body was slick with sweat despite the coolness of the evening.

 

[AnyOtherName]

Setharia had been unable to but watch as Nathaniel removed the clothing from his upper body, marveling as his bare flesh was exposed to her gaze. At some point during his exercises, the elf realized that - not only was she staring - but all of her senses drank in his exertion. Listening to his breathing as it became heavier, faintly smelling his sweat as he pushed his body to perform...she could even imagine his taste upon her lips. All that was missing was touch.

And, gods, how she wanted to touch.

...She could imagine that, too. But as she did so, she caught herself. Setharia felt the strain of her hardening nipples under the protection her leather armor, a heated desire building between her legs...

You'll be sharing a tent this evening and your chambers once you arrive in Daegarr. You really, really need to get it together. She forced her eyes away from his form and climbed to her feet from her sitting position next to the fire. Wordlessly, she wandered off to just beyond the light of their camp, again looking up to the sky. Why is this so difficult for you? How is it that you, against your better judgement, want to give everything to this boy? A sigh. Magic? Well no, you shouldn't know any of it - in fact you're forbidden to be taught - but, hey, you're glorious so I'll make an exception. And she had given next to no resistance on that note. Pretend to be lovers? Okay, sure! ...It is not as if anything will actually happen. Surely, I can resist the temptation of your astounding body and charming personality over the span of a couple years.

Setharia glanced back in Nathaniel's direction briefly. If my resistance is ultimately futile... She turned away, distracting herself with the task of unfastening the buckles of her cuirass. It is exactly that kind of thinking that will be your undoing, Setharia.

She returned to the fire once all of her leather armor was removed, the pieces of which she tossed inside the tent on her way back to the stone circle. As the elf approached the brightly burning flames it seemed that Nathaniel was just finishing his workout routine. A sheen of sweat covered his statue-worthy body, glistening under the light of the moon and shimmering from the reflection of the fire.

...It is only a matter of time.

The removal of Setharia's armor had left her in plain clothing: an airy and thin white blouse accompanied by medium gray breeches. While her top did not cling to her so possessively as her cuirass had, the slight shifting of the material against her revealed much more of her build. The gracefully rounded mounds of her breasts were otherwise unrestrained; beneath her shirt one could exactly determine the intimate curves, perhaps even glimpse the outline of her nipples. Her endowment, no doubt seeming bigger than it was for the slender form it belonged, was in measure D-cup.

She watched Nathaniel for several long moments, uncertain of what to say. Eventually, she managed: "Well. I think I'm about ready for bed." She stretched her arms up and outwards while arching her back. As she returned to her former position, she wondered if Nathaniel would be able to sleep after such a workout or if he'd need time to cool down first.

Would be a shame if he decided to rinse himself in the creek...his scent is intoxicating...

"...How about you?"

 

[Maka]

Any hope of his work-out exhausting him to the point of dispelling the vivid erotic images in his mind was dispelled when Setharia padded back into the circle of the dying firelight. The slender, perfectly toned body underneath the leather armour was everything Nathaniel had dreamed it could be and more. It seemed like he could have encircled her slimly tapered waist with his hands and her slenderness only emphasized the eye-popping size and buoyancy of her beautiful, firm breasts, snug in her sheer white blouse. Under that white fabric, Nathaniel's eager eye could discern the dark outline of her nipples, stiff and quivering.

Her brilliant green eyes seemed to be taking him in just as avidly, a feeling that only reinforced Nathaniel's intense arousal. He let himself drop and roll after his hundredth push-up, very aware of the huge, heavy erection he was now sporting. He stared up at the stars, drawing measured, deep breaths of the cool night air.

"Well. I think I'm about ready for bed," Setharia said, after a lingering movement's hesitation. She smiled at him and stretched, her movement pushing the material of her blouse against her breasts. They stretched it taut. Nathaniel stared, fascinated.

"How about you?"

Nathaniel opened his mouth to announce his intention of washing himself in the creek first, then he closed it again. He suddenly knew that Setharia didn't want him to. She wanted to fall asleep breathing in his scent, the primal and heady male musk. Did elves sweat? He doubted it somehow. He smiled at a sudden thought that crossed his mind -working up a sweat with Setharia in quite a different way.

"It sounds wise," he said. "Full day of travel tomorrow."

He crawled into the tent, making himself at ease on his bedroll and making sure it was not far at all from its neighbour. He hesitated, then spoke again.

"Setharia?" he said. For once, there was no note of teasing, anticipatory mischief in his voice. "Thank you for everything. You're the person I love most in the world."

There was silence for a moment.

"That would be true even if you disappeared for another eight years."

His hand found her slender wrist in the darkness and gripped it tightly.

"But please don't."

 

[AnyOtherName]

It was impossible not to notice the rigid girth in Nathaniel's pants as he rolled onto his back. Setharia's emerald eyes traced the outline of his impressive manhood, nearly moaning her approval. Stifling that, she bit down lightly on her lower lip.

She tried to recover by speaking, stretching out her form, momentarily forcing her eyes away from the young prince. Setharia did not catch Nathaniel's admiring gaze upon her breasts as she did so, though she hoped that his desire was directly related to her even without that particular evidence.

As the young human entered the tent, the flames of the fire abruptly ceased with a distinct lack of embers and smoke in it's wake. Setharia blinked, her eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. She saw nearly as well in night as in day, another perk of her long-living race, and easily made her way to the tent under the new conditions.

She settled on to her bed roll, remaining sitting up as she untied her hair.

"Setharia?" The elf looked in the prince's direction, her hands dropping to rest on her lap after she tossed the green ribbon aside. "Thank you for everything. You're the person I love most in the world."

She froze. There were many degrees of love and she couldn't be certain what kind he meant. She loved him back, of course, though she just recently became confused as to how. Like a little brother? As her King? ...As a lover?

Nathaniel filled in the silence. "That would be true even if you disappeared for another eight years." He reached over and took a grip of her wrist, holding her firmly. Not in a rough way, as if he thought he had rights to her possession, but in a sense of one that needed another. "But please don't."

Setharia smiled softly. "You needn't worry about that, my sweet prince." She moved the hand that was held at the wrist, placing it upon Nathaniel's chest. "I love you and I will never disappear, ever again. Such distance between us pained me as much as it did you." She leaned down to kiss him gently on the forehead, as she used to when she tucked him in as a child. "...Now get some sleep; as you say, we have a full day of travel tomorrow."

Her hand remained on his chest as she laid down, laying on her side so as to face him. Emerald eyes shut in the same moment that her head touched the pillow.

-----

Setharia found herself walking into her chambers, through a set of heavy French doors that led into the sitting room. Paying little mind to where she was going or why, she wandered down the western hall, observing the wash of light as the setting sun cast long panels across her path through tall arched windows. Her hand eventually found its place upon the sweeping silver handle of her bedroom door. She opened it unceremoniously and glanced around as if expecting something to be revealed.

Slow steps carried her over the threshold. A wonder of why she had come here. Surely, she wasn’t that old, to be forgetting the reason she came to a room upon arriving...

Her searching emerald eyes found a trinket upon her vanity. It absorbed all of her attention, and for a moment she merely stared at it from a distance.

“Nathaniel...” she whispered, clasping her hands together as she rose them up before her heart.

He had been nine when he made her the gift. It was a sitting cat, long and graceful with jeweled eyes. Intricately carved into onyx, a surprising level of artistry and patience had been shown in it's creation. It stood about a foot tall and ever had a place where Setharia could see it on a daily basis. It was beautiful. The eyes – it wasn’t that the gems had a monetary value, it was the dazzling effect of the mixed colors. Each iris was its own, one blue and one green. Sapphire and emerald chips had been gathered and set in a pattern which a darker shade outlined the lighter. The effect was an astounding depth.

She approached the vanity, her eyes eventually trailing up to her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a pair of white lace panties and little else. Matching mage sleeves tied around her upper arms with silver ribbon, fitting loosely as it descended the length of her arms. As they approached her elbows, they split open, being left to spill down towards the floor as their color faded to translucence.

She noted the distinct lack of her collar, gazed upon the smooth skin of her throat.

The feeling of a presence drew her attention. A glance in the mirror ensured that no one was directly behind her, but when she turned she found Nathaniel standing nonchalantly in the center of the room. He was naked from the waist up, just as he had been the last time the elf set eyes on him.

Neither of them said anything. Setharia watched as the prince’s eyes drank in her mostly exposed form, finding pride in the expression he gave in response.

You can’t...

An elevation of her pulse. This was obviously a dream...and she could.

She smiled as she took purposeful steps towards him, the sway of her hips perhaps a little more noticeable for her lack of clothing or seductive intent. As she stepped before Nathaniel, she inclined her head to look up at him and placed a hand lovingly on his chest. Slowly, the appendage trailed downwards, her fingertips dancing over the hard lines of his body before settling at the band of his pants.

"I want you, Nathaniel," she confessed easily, her gaze meeting his. "I want to be your everything, and for you to be mine." Her fingers curled between his flesh and the material of his clothing in the same moment as her alternate hand reached up to lovingly stroke his cheek. She raised herself on to her toes to take his mouth with hers. The feel of his lips, pressing against her own with a matched level of intensity...she felt her body tremble.

She pulled back after several moments, stared up at him with a deep love within her gaze.

 

[Maka]

Nathaniel fell asleep, thinking of Setharia, the sweet, aching throb of his stiff manhood failing to subside. The kiss Setharia had planted on his forehead seemed to linger like a beautiful brand, his chest tingling where her fingers rested. Despite the exertions of the day's travel, he fell asleep only gradually, Setharia's soft and regular breathing his companion.


He was standing in an unfamiliar, sunlit room, still stripped to the waist. He looked about him, feeling neither alarm nor surprise.

The room was decorated with quiet, exquisite taste. The furnishings and wainscot, rosewood and ebony inlaid with silver and pearl, were older and more beautiful than many of the palace's most treasured antiques and they had been polished with beeswax to a rich, warm glow. Lovely objets d'art hung on the walls or were arranged on stands. Nothing about the room was designed to overawe and impress -it was simply an accurate reflection of the character of the extraordinary individual who occupied it. Nathaniel would have known that the room belonged to Setharia even if it had not been filled with her scent -fresh-cut grass and pine and now just a hint of something new underneath, a deliciously spicy, intriguing aroma on the edge of perception.

So he was not surprised to see Setharia standing with her back to him, although the sight of her virtually naked body itself was a blissful revelation. Crisp white lace panties adhered lovingly to a perfectly toned and sweetly rounded bottom, its mouthwatering shape seeming to be stroked, caressed and fondled, seeming to be made for his hands. Long, smooth and creamy legs took his breath away. Her straight, slender back was still pale where the sun had not touched it and it too seemed to invite his hand. He wanted to to run his fingers down her spine and feel her tremble under his touch.

Setharia turned and took him in without alarm. Entranced, Nathaniel drank in the new view she had afforded him. Her luscious bare breasts, huge and flawless ivory globes, each capped by a stiff, rosy nipple just begging for the attention of a skillful, flicking tongue. Her flat, well-conditioned stomach and trim waist. It was the mystery of the elves, that at the moment Nathaniel could only feel thankful for -that Setharia could have gained the wisdom and experience of living unnumbered mortal lifetimes and yet still retain the lithe, nubile body of a girl in her twenties -perfect and golden and quiveringly ripe for love.

His eyes rose to her angelically beautiful face but this time it was not tinted with a blush. There was deep, fascinated love in that brilliant green gaze, and a wanton pride in the hunger of his gaze. She stood with her arms outstretched, as though to prevent the silvery ribbons from obstructing his gaze in any way.

After a long, delicious moment she moved towards him, hips swaying seductively. She laid a hand on his firmly muscled chest and slowly brought it downwards, towards the fearsome erection tenting his breeches.

"I want you, Nathaniel," she said, words he wanted to hear from those cupid's bow lips all of his life. "I want to be your everything, and for you to be mine."

With that, her hand dipped below his belt to feel the hardness there and the other rose to stroke his cheek and she had pulled herself up on tiptoe to kiss him. He took her in his arms at once, returning her kiss with dominant fervor, his tongue brushing against her. Meanwhile, one hand went to one of her breasts to squeeze and press the sensitive flesh, a finger tracing a circle around the swollen nipple, then flicking it. He felt Setharia's whole body tremble, and he thought of her sweet, slick juices moistening the clean white fabric of her panties. He thought the spicy smell was stronger now.

When Setharia broke the kiss, he leaned down to kiss the smooth skin beneath her pointed ear, puckering it and nipping at it playfully.

"You already are my everything," he whispered. "And I'm going to give you... everything."

 

[AnyOtherName]

The feel of his hand against her breast, his fingertips skillfully teasing her hardened nipple, his tongue dancing amid her own in the sharing of their mouths... The elf felt a wash of desire radiate from her very core. It was far more than the heated juices that now seeped between her thighs, the lace of her panties doing little to hold the slick moisture in their confines - no, what she now felt was more than anything comparable to the lust she had felt in the past. It was all encompassing and maddening; the elemental mage could not even imagine a path in which she did not give herself and take of the young human for the entirety of the night.

His words were near perfection; the only way they could've been more so was if they were actually coming from Nathaniel's lips rather than a fabrication of him. It made sense, though. What would know better of how Setharia would have wanted the prince to respond than a dream, a manifestation of her own subconscious?

...But how was it that a dream was having this sort of effect on her? Her senses just as sharp as they would be in reality, her body wanting for him so badly... What she had been told of the desires a human male could draw from an elven maiden was proving true, but how? She wasn't actually feeding off his his sexual energy, she was just imagining it...

Perhaps Setharia would have thought more of it, were her mind not completely lost to devotional kisses to the side of the prince's throat and the stroking of his manhood through his pants. His taste gathered onto her lips, and soon she was but unable to lick his flesh for the full effect. It was dizzying. Again, she trembled, and this time a soft moan escaped her throat.

She lifted her gaze to look up into his cerulean eyes.

He seemed so real - but dreams...they were anything but reality. Setharia could say, and do, anything she wanted, relieve the pressures of what she felt for him. Be completely honest and not need to worry about long standing consequences.

"I love you, Nathaniel," she spoke simply. "I...I've never been with a human before, and I'm glad. I don't want to feel this way for anyone but you. And I won't, ever." As she spoke, her hands placed themselves at the fastening of his remaining article of clothing. Nimble fingers dexterously unworked the binding, and within moments she was slowly revealing his gloriously erect cock.

The elf's inhalation of breath resembled a soft gasp as she sank to her knees, her emerald eyes marveling at his size. The man's length and girth almost seemed unnatural to the slender maiden, and for all she knew, it was nothing more than an embellishment of her dream. But, no...she had glimpsed his hardness, outlined through his clothing, in the waking realm. She couldn't be certain on all the details but she suspected what she now witnessed was fairly close to truth.

...How was she going to keep herself away, in real life?

Pushing such concerns to the back of her mind, the woman let out a hot rasp of breath, her lips less than an inch from making contact with his intimate flesh. A hand lightly wrapped around his shaft, settling to hold him at the base, as she leaned forward to kiss the underside of his throbbing erectness. She followed with a full lick, carrying her mouth towards his crown. She lingered, exploring the contours of his flesh there, though she did not take his head fully beyond her lips, rather working around. Once satisfied with her exploration, she trailed a combination of kisses a licks back down his length. Her free hand lightly trailed fingernails over his inner thigh as she leaned forward to lick his balls. A practice that soon translated into her gently suckling his jewels, taking one into her mouth as she massaged it lovingly with the motions of her tongue. The hand upon his inner thigh helped to keep the other from feeling left out, though it received a full turn shortly thereafter.

She withdrew slowly, her hand beginning to teasingly stroke his shaft. She looked up at him with a playful grin on her full lips.

"So you're aware... We're about to share a marathon of sex," she informed him. "Far be it for me to tell you how to do what you do, but - keep in mind, you're a young stud. I imagine you could cum for me...in my mouth or on my chest...and recover marvelously enough to fuck me for the rest of the evening."

She awaited a response before preparing to set back to pleasuring the man of her dreams.