House Dorthonion

Mourning?
“You look amazing in House dress again.”
The soft sound of Tashin’s voice so close to his ear sent a shiver down Tavian’s spine and out through his limbs. He looked up from the chair where he’d been lounging with a book, mouth slightly open, eyes slightly wide. Tashin’s breath tickled his neck as he leaned over his shoulder, and Tavian had to swallow. Flipping the book shut he reached up to drag his fingertips through the ends of his twin’s long hair. “As do you.”
And it was true. Tashin, though his face was still somewhat gaunt, looked much improved from when Tavian had first seen him. His skin had regained color, his dark hair some of its old luster, and he nearly always smiled, something Sorawen had confided in Tavian she had not seen him do in a long time. In the two weeks since Tavian had returned home he'd made it his personal mission to see Tashin's health restored. With Sorawen's help he'd opened up Tashin' stuffy room, thrown the curtains and windows wides, drug his brother around the garden daily, and had it out with most of the house physicians, some of which had stormed off the estate vowing never to return. Which was fine with Tavian. They were a useless lot, all sniveling and scraping to Zalmon, complacent to keep Tashin as dependent on them as possible. To his surprise Zalmon had not tried to interfere, and it rankled Tavian to have to admit that Zalmon cared about Tashin enough to bite his tongue when it was obvious Tavian's methods were improving him.
Tashin had always been what their mother called "fragile". Birth was always a complicated and dangerous thing, and the birth of twins was doubly so. Tavian's birth had gone well enough, but whether it was because Sarissa Stormcaller was exhausted by the time Tashin's turn came or something else had gone wrong Tashin's entrance into the world had not gone as smoothly. The complications took their toll on both mother and child, manifesting in Sarissa a pale sickliness that followed her until her death a mere decade later and in Tashin a weak and troublesome heart that was at turns no more troublesome than the occasional dizzy spell and severe enough to leave him bedridden for weeks.

They looked at each other for a long moment, Tavian’s gaze open and intense, his fingers tightening slowly in Tashin’s hair until the younger twin colored suddenly and looked away, drawing himself up. Tavian’s hand dropped back to his lap, resting on the closed cover of his book. His eyes followed Tashin. “Have you been taking that elixir?”
Tashin nodded, moving to the large windows that looked down the grassy slope towards Dawning Square. “It’s helped a lot.”
“No ill effects?” Tavian asked, getting to his feet and following his brother to the window. The library in which they stood was circular and highly domed, the ceiling gilt and filigreed with gold. Part of it had collapsed during the invasion of the Scourge, and now supportive scaffolding was holding it up where it had been partly reconstructed. At least most of the books had been saved. His father probably would have died on the spot had the library truly been damaged. The thought of Andorian Stormcaller made Tavian sigh, rubbing his temples. The funeral was to be held that evening, and as far as Tavian was concerned it couldn’t come fast enough.
“No… sometimes I feel a bit jittery after taking it, but it wears off after a bit. I’m just happy to feel as if I have some strength again. It’s all thanks to you,” he said thoughtfully.
“Anything for you, dear brother,” Tavian murmured wrapping his arms around Tashin’s middle and pulling him tightly back against him.
Tashin gasped, his hands coming up as if to push Tavian’s arms away, but they faltered as Tavian’s lips brushed the edge of his ear. “Zalmon will be upset if-“
“I don’t care what Zalmon thinks,” Tavian growled.
“What about what I think?” Tashin asked, pulling forward slightly.
Tavian loosened his grasp, but did not let his twin go. “Am I upsetting you?” As he asked he kissed the back of Tashin’s neck.
The younger twin made a small noise of distress as his skin flushed again, growing warm beneath Tavian’s touch. “It’s not that, it’s just-“ he gasped and pulled away completely as Tavian nipped the back of his neck. He turned around, his hand going to cover the place on his neck that was tingling fiercely. “Stop it! Wipe that grin off your face, Tave! Zalmon will take any excuse to throw you out again, and I won’t be able to take it! So despite what you want you have to care what he thinks.”
Tavian sobered slightly at Tashin’s words, sighing softly. “I won’t let that happen. I will never leave you again.” He reached out to pull Tashin back to him, pressing their foreheads together as Tashin’s hands came to rest on his shoulders.
“If Zalmon orders you out…”
“I will find a way to stay near to you.”
Tashin looked deeply into his twin’s eyes. “Or I will find a way to be near you…”
Tavian’s arched brows drew together as he tried to make absolutely sure he understood what his twin was trying to say. “Tash… I don’t think you’d want-“
There was a sound from the grounds below. Tashin pulled away, looking back over his shoulder and out the window. “The Lightweaver family is here. I guess I should be glad. As long as Kiril is here you’ll have him to molest, and I won’t need to worry.”
Tavian balked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Tashin turned towards the window, but gave Tavian a sly look over his shoulder. “I know he visited you when you were…”
“In the gutter?” Tavian offered.
“Wherever you were. Regardless, I know he was with you. It’s alright; it’s one of the few things that brought me comfort. I knew he’d do what he could to keep you safe.”
“It wasn’t that bad, Tash. I had a kind of family there… I learned a lot from anyone who would teach me. There are more of us than you know that have nowhere else to go. The worst part was being kept from you,” he said softly drawing the tips of his fingers up the inside of Tashin’s arm.
The younger twin giggled, pulling away and twisting towards the door. “That tickles. Come on, we should go greet ‘the cousins’.”
The Lightweavers, one of the four noble families of greater House Dorthonion, were distant cousins to the Stormcallers. But it was at this distant blood relation and their mutual high standing in the nobility that the similarities between the two families ended. The Stormcallers had long followed in the tradition of demon mastery and the arcane arts. Severe, dark haired, and arrogant Zalmon epitomized the characteristics associated with the Stormcallers. The Lightweavers on the other hand appeared more refined, were simply aloof more than arrogant, and characteristically had fine golden hair. They had been one of the first Quel’dorei families to learn the disciplined arts of the paladin from the once allied and now fallen kingdom of men, Lordaeron. The family was small now and in decline with only two children. The elder was their daughter, Aeltha, now married to the head of House Saer’ilis, Maeglin Dayspark, with whom she shared a deep mutual respect, but no love or children. She was old enough to have studied in Lordaeron herself, and still considered herself a follower of the Light despite having to follow the way of the Blood Knight. The younger was their much-younger son, Kiril, who was near in age to Tavian and Tashin, and considered to be as much of a black sheep among his own family as Tavian was in his. The fact that his hair was as a fiery orange-red rather than gold didn’t help matters. Slated from birth to follow the paladin’s path as his sister had, Kiril had proven somewhat unfit for the role. The details around the incident were purposefully kept hazy, and little was known of what had actually transpired that led to Aeltha “fetching” him home from Kalimdor save that she had and that Kiril had subsequently been installed in the priesthood where he now seemed happy enough to serve the Light and not cause his family any more trouble.
As they descended into the entry hall Tavian hung back as Tashin went forward eagerly to greet their distant relations. Tavian nodded and bowed appropriately from where he stood with his back against the wall, making brief, uncomfortable eye contact with Aeltha, who was as usual without her husband. For his benefit she placed a protective hand on the small of Kiril’s back before nodding and propelling the young priest in his direction.
Kiril raised an eyebrow, his smile quirking lopsidedly as he moved away from the others towards Tavian. He held out his hand. “I see you’ve made it home, Tave.”
Tavian looked up at the young priest, still leaning against the wall. He was slightly taller than the dark-haired rogue, and dressed in formal priestly garb, a long white robe with blue embellishment. Kiril’s face wore the good-humored mask it always did. His boyishly handsome features were familiar and welcome, his long orange-red hair tucked up beneath a loud red and gold cap. They clasped hands, both calloused from the familiar use of weapons. They shared a wry smile. “Most likely just until the funeral and mourning are over. I think that’s about as long as I can stand being in Zalmon's house.”
Kiril glanced over his shoulder towards Tashin who was accepting congratulations on his improved health. “And Tashin?” he said, his voice low.
Tavian followed Kiril’s gaze. His pulse did a funny little dance at the sight of his twin smiling with the others and he felt his chest squeeze. “For him I’d stay, but I may not have to.”
Kiril turned back, again with the raised eyebrow. “I’m getting you drunk later.”
Tavian laughed out loud, the sound of which drew Tashin’s startled attention. “I’m counting on it.” Then with a wry smile he reached up and snatched the hat off of Kiril's head, sending his long hair falling down around his face and shoulders. "And where on earth did you get this hideous thing?"
Kiril laughed, snatching it back as he brushed his hair back over one shoulder. "I stole it from a dead bitch named Whitemane, one of those crazy Scarlet Crusade fanatics. And it's not a 'thing', it's a chapeau."

Tavian looked at Kiril wide-eyed. "You've been to Lordaeron since the Plague?"

Kiril took the chapeau back from Tavian, smoothing it and righting it's crumpled corners. He nodded soberly and gave an ironic smile. "Yes, haven't you heard that we're courting the Horde's favor? The thing that Sylvanas Windrunner has become is leading the Forsaken from the ruins of the city."

Tavian nodded slowly. "I've spent some time in the Ghost Land since we last met. I know there are Forsaken there now, but I didn't realize... I'm afraid the focus of my world is bit narrow at the moment."

"Yes, well I've been all over the continent in the last half year for one reason or another. It would seem that priests are needed everywhere these days." Here he gave a sardonic little laugh. "I even returned to Kalimdor for a time."

"Does Aeltha know?" Tavian asked, his voice hushed as he stepped closer to his distant cousin.

Kiril nodded. "She's done her own fair share of 'adventuring'. Mostly I think it's just to get away from Maeglin, but she's been restless since..." Kiril's voice trailed off as he glanced back at his sister.

Tavian followed his gaze again and nodded. "She seems to have regained much of her powers."

"Yes. She hates the Blood Knights, but she's willing to do whatever it takes to regain the Light. Not that I can blame her."

Tavian snorted. "You almost look and sound like a real priest."

Kiril gave him a funny look. "And what exactly else would I be?"

Tavian shook his head, his eyes shifting to Tashin who was now sidling up next to Kiril. Kiril's attention shifted to him immediately as he threw an arm around his narrow shoulders. "Light bless me if it isn't the little sickling looking nearly as good as new," he said fondly.

Tashin giggled and lightly returned the embrace. "Hello Kiril. I have to wonder what you and my wayward brother are whispering about over here." He gave Tavian a long look.

"Scandalous things that your pure heart need not be burdened with," Kiril replied. He placed the chapeau on Tashin's head and gave it a little squish, pushing it down over his eyes.

"You children are making me nervous," Sorawen's voice broke in as she came up behind Kiril and Tashin, giving them both a little push towards the doorway where the rest of the members of the House had disappeared. "I want all three of you where I can keep my eyes on you. The last thing we need is some incident on the day of your father's funeral."

"Mistress Stormcaller, I am a man of the cloth! I would never cause trouble for my family," Kiril said affecting hurt.

"Hm," she said, reaching out to steer Tavian towards the door as well. "The only one of you I trust is Tashin, and even then I don't trust you two not to influence him. Now go sit quietly until the rest of the House arrives."

"Yes, Mistress Stormcaller," Tavian said demurely, giving her a sly smile and a wink before taking Tashin by the hand and leading him after the others.

The funeral went as well as could be expected. The four main families of House Dorthonion had all made at least token efforts to represent themselves. As head of the House Andorian Stormcaller had not been well liked among the families, even his own sons had not cared for him overly well. It was a common sense that Zalmon would be no better liked. His strutting and superfluous speech making at the funeral did not help to qualm this feeling. He affected so much emotion that Tavian could barely keep from laughing out loud, and even his well behaved twin had to look down into his lap with lips pursed more than once. The feast that followed was well attended and even better stocked with food and wine. Even if it was a bit over the top, Tavian had to admit that Zalmon had gone out of his way to make a good show of their father's passing. About halfway through the meal Kiril leaned in between the twins, resting his chin on Tavian's shoulder. "Might I borrow you two for a moment?"

The twins' gazes shifted to Zalmon at the head of the table who gave them a dismissive wave of his hand that said "I'd rather not have you in my sight in any case." Only too eagerly they rose, chairs scraping on the floor of the dining hall and followed the priest out into the garden where he settled them beneath a large tree that looked, like much else on the Stormcaller estate, a bit worse for wear. From behind the tree the priest produced a sack and from that several unmarked glass bottles which he passed around.
Tashin took his bottle warily, eyeing Kiril. "What's this?"

"A very old and distinguished minting of Pupbelly Verbose. I got it from a gnome in Booty Bay," he said with a cheeky grin.

Tashin leaned forward, eyes wide. "You've been to Booty Bay?!"

Kiril leaned cooly back against the tree and nodded. "Oh yes. I could tell you stories, but I won't, because what happens in Booty Bay, stays in Booty Bay."

Tavian chuckled as he opened his bottle, taking a swig. "I can imagine." Tashin gave him a scandalized look and then eyed his bottle. "Here let me get it for you," Tavian said, reaching around Tashin to take his bottle and taking advantage of the moment to pull his twin back against him. Tashin made an indignant sound, but then let his head rest back against Tavian's shoulder. He took a tentative sip of the Verbose, and wrinkled his nose.

"This is strong," he said.

"Just drink it slowly," Kiril responded.

The three of them sat for some time drinking and talking about the things that young men talk about. Mostly Tavian and Kiril chatted about politics, the reconstruction of the city, the Scourge, the Wretched, the few reports Kiril had heard about Outland to where Pirnce Kael'thas had disappeared to supposedly secure the destiny of their people. They were just about to embark on the topic of the Draenei who had supposedly already made contact with the Kaldorei when Tashin stirred against Tavian's chest.

"I'm sleepy," he slurred, starting to pull away. Tavian looked down to see Tashin's bottle empty on the ground the dark blue glass reflecting the light of the stars.

"I thought you were going to drink that slowly, Tash," he said, letting his twin go as he jerked to the side and lay down on the ground, curling around himself.

"I was..." he said softly, his voice continuing to slur. "But then... I had nothin' to do but drink it cause you two were talkin' so mush."

"Ah," Tavian said with a smile to Kiril. The two peered at Tashin as he used his hands for a pillow and fell asleep on the spot. They chuckled to each other as they leaned back against the tree each taking a swig from their bottle.

"If I was really nice I'd make things easy for you and offer to leave," Kiril said around a grin and a swallow.

Tavian shot him a sidelong glance and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn't do anything to betray Tash's trust." He looked over at his sleeping twin, his eyes softening. "I'll wait."

"Forever? He just might make you."

Tavian scowled and looked back at Kiril defensively, taking another swig. "As long as I have to," he snapped. "Besides, don't you think it's a little lewd for a priest to be encouraging such 'uncouth' things. I've heard it's not exactly considered moral, this longing in my heart." He sulked back against the tree some more.

Kiril stared at him a moment, mouth agape and then let out a hearty laugh. "Feeling melodramatic tonight are we? As I recall this happened the last time I got you drunk. Of course a lot happened that night..." He gave Tavian a cheeky wink.

Tavian continued to sulk, though he couldn't quite keep his lips from quirking up at the corners. "I was miserable, desperate, and in despair. I take no responsibility for my actions that night."

"That's too bad, because they were quite skillful. I have to admit I was impressed."

Tavian blushed in spite of himself and this time could not hide his smile. "Shut up." He sighed. "Maybe I should leave again, and soon. I'm afraid of what I'm capable of putting him through. His heart..."

Kiril ran his long fingers through his red hair. "Tashin's heart needs you. All I know is that if you truly love Tashin then you must do so without apology to him, yourself, or anyone else. Love has nothing to do with morality. It has little to do with anything actually other than itself. Even if he feels the same he will never follow your lead unless he is certain you will not forsake him. How can others accept your love if you yourself cannot?" Kiril gave Tavian his sagest look over the top of his bottle.

Tavian gave him a flat look. "Did becoming a priest make you instantly wise?"

Kiril laughed musically, tipping his head back. "No, but the path to it helped."

Tavian mulled over Kiril's words for a few moments, sipping at his Verbose. He gave Kiril a couple sidelong glances which were returned with a raised eyebrow. Finally Tavian spoke. "When you were in training to be a paladin... what happened in Kalimdor, really?"

Kiril covered his surprise with a long swallow of his drink. He looked sideways at Tavian with piercing eyes.

"When you returned you were different. Even before I was banished from the House I could see it. And when you came to see me... you were as miserable as I was," he pressed. "What happened?"

"I don't talk about that time, Tavian," Kiril said with a shrug and a sigh.

"Not even to me? We've always shared each other's secrets," Tavian pressed. "We've shared more than that."

Kiril gave him a long look.

"The short version. Just give me the short version," Tavian insisted, his voice slightly pleading.

Kiril took another drink. "The short version, eh?"

"You went to Theramore to study and then..." Tavian urged.

"And then I left Theramore."

"Why?"

Kiril sighed. "You said short version."

Now it was Tavian's turn to sigh. "Alright, so short version you left Theramore and went... where?"

"North."

"To where? Orgrimmar? We weren't even on good terms with the orcs then."

Kiril gave a derisive little laugh and took another swig hitching his thumb upward. "Farther north."

Tavian looked confused for a moment. "But the only thing father north of Durotar is..." his voice faded out. Kiril took another swig, Tavian leaned forward, mouth open. "You went to the lands of the Kaldorei?!"

Kiril nodded, rubbing his head. "I did. I don't really know why... I was stupidly curious I suppose," he sighed and leaned back, letting the bottle dangle in his hands between his knees. "The forests were beautiful there, but I suppose they'd have to be with so many tending them." His eyes grew distant and he looked up at the stars. "Anyway, short version. I met a druid, and after a time I was convinced that I loved him and that I did not want to return to what was left of Quel'Thalas. Knowing that my family would look for me once they received word of my absence from Theramore I - we - sought refuge in Moonglade, and found it for a time. Those followers of Cenarius are very neutral minded, you know. Of course that changed when Aeltha came to fetch me. Can you imagine the horror in which my mother and father contemplated the dishonor to the family and dispatched her to bring me home?" Kiril licked his lips as if savoring something sweet. "Whatever she said to the druids they handed me over almost immediately, and to be honest the tongue lashing I received from her myself made me so ashamed I willingly followed her all the way home like a kicked puppy." He closed his eyes and for the first time that night his good-humored mask slipped, and Tavian could see the darkness that lay beneath; sadness, longing, and no small amount of self-loathing. He took a deep breath and then turned to face Tavian. "And that is why you cannot be ashamed of what you love. Emotion is not enough, it must have conviction, Tave. Emotion without conviction is often called regret."

Tavian thought about this for a moment, looking down into his lap. They each were silent with their thoughts, each took a drink. After a moment Tavian said seriously. "Still... I can't believe you fucked a Kaldorei." He couldn't hold his serious face and began to chuckle in tandem with Kiril around the lips of their bottles.

The red-haired priest snorted. "I know, right?"

"Was it hot?"

"Oh yeah," Kiril took a swallow, "very." They looked at each other, eyes sparkling, and continued into their downward spiral of drunken giggles. After a few moments they tapered off and Tavian looked down into his bottle, swirling the last swallow around before setting it aside. He looked over at Tashin who was still asleep on the ground, legs pulled up to his chest, snoring softly. He reached out to touch his leg.

"I could never do anything to hurt him," he said softly.

"Yet you plan to leave again."

"I think he would come with me."

"You'd want that?"

"I could keep him safe, and it would be better for him than letting Zalmon keep him shut away," Tavian said between gritted teeth.

"He could disown you both," Kiril said, his voice measured.

"What does it matter?" Tavian mused, moving now to crawl to Tashin's side, gently brushing hair from his face. "Our entire race has been disowned. There are more of us living in the streets or in hovels or worse yet as Wretched than there are those of us still entitled to land and estate. The Quel'dorei were in decline even before the invasion; I can't help but feel that the Sindorei will only continue to follow the trend. Changing our name does not change our fate." As he said this he traced Tashin's face reverently.

The younger twin stirred and turned onto his back, rubbing at his eyes. He stretched out his legs inadvertently pushing them through Tavian's. The dark-haired rogue froze as he watched Tashin slowly wake, green-tinted eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him blearily. "Tave?"

"Yes, it's me-" his words were cut short as Tashin's hands found his hair, yanking it sharply to bring Tavian's face to his own, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss. Tavian's heart nearly stopped. For a moment his brain could not sort out what was happening and he froze, eyes wide as Tashin's taste and smell began to fill his senses. Tashin's body arched towards his, legs tangling more heavily with his own. And just as his eyes fell closed, brows drawing together in a mixture of ecstasy and torment and he began to move into the kiss, accepting that it was genuine, it was over. Tashin's head dropped back to the ground and he went limp, asleep once more. Heart hammering, panting slighting Tavian stared down at his brother with wide eyes. It wasn't until he noticed the thin line of saliva still between their lips that he rocked back, self-consciously wiping his hand across his mouth. Shaking slightly he looked over his shoulder at Kiril who was regarding him with wide eyes. "He's drunk," Tavian breathed lamely.

Kiril's lips twitched up in one corner. "So are you. And for that matter so am I. You should go to bed. We should all go to bed."

Tavian nodded. He was not used to feeling flustered or thrown off, but he had never kissed Tashin like that before. More importantly Tashin had never kissed him like that before. Pecks, nips, innuendos... that was as close to showing his feelings as he had ever gotten. But Tashin had said his name, he had known it was him not some left over dream partner. He must have. Tashin had kissed him, and even if he was drunk and half asleep and would never remember this moment in a million years it didn't matter to Tavian, because no matter what somewhere beneath it all Tashin had kissed him like that. Wanted to kiss him like that.

Taking a couple deep breaths he settled his nerves before leaning over Tashin again and gently shaking him. "Tash wake up. We need to get to bed," he said, his voice gruffer than he expected.

Tashin came awake again with a little gasp and sat partway up. "Wha? Where are we?"

"The garden. You fell asleep, remember?" Tavian said getting to his feet and offering his hand to Tashin to haul him up as well.

Tashin looked at his brother's hand for a moment and then blinked. He brought his fingers to his lips and then looked up at Tavian with thoughtful, if still inebriated eyes. "Yes, I remember now," he said reaching for Tavian's hand, getting awkwardly to his feet, leaning heavily against his older twin. With a nod to Kiril and an awkward smile Tavian began the arduous task of leading his brother back to his room. The estate was dark and silent, and Tavian was surprised that no one had come to look for them. The rest of the funeral party was probably as drunk as they were, he mused. With each stumble and catch Tavian was painfully aware of the warmth and closeness of Tashin's body which continued to bump against and cling to him at turns. By the time they reached Tashin's room Tashin was babbling.

"T-tave, I want to tell you something," he slurred twisting around in his brother's grasp now stumbling backwards towards his bed. He hiccuped, the act of which made him grab onto Tavian's shirt and giggle. "Cause stuff has been happing, you know?"

Tavian put his hands over Tashin's intending to pry them off and steer him to bed. "Tashin I think you should go to sleep now," he said, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

"Yah, ok... but y'know... cause we're... I mean you're better than me... you're the best, the best brother," Tashin said haltingly, with all the earnestness of a very drunk person.

Tavian chuckled close to Tashin's ear and realized too late that they were almost to the bed, and then it was too late, because Tashin's calves encountered the edge of the bed and he was tipping back onto it, dragging Tavian down ontop of him. And then he was looking up at him with those glowing eyes through impossibly long dark lashes, his lips parting sensually around the words he'd yet to say, hands still clutching the front of Tavian's shirt. "It's just that..."

"Yes?" Tavian whispered, his mouth suddenly dry, his body all too aware of every place that it pressed down against Tashin's.

"Don't sleep with Kiril," Tashin breathed, scrunching his nose.

Tavian hung his head a bit, sighing. "Ok. I won't," he said softly, beginning to push himself up.

"Cause... cause..."

"I know. I won't sleep with Kiril."

"Again."

"I won't sleep with Kiril again," he amended managing to get Tashin's hands off his shirt as he stood up.

Tashin turned onto his stomach and half-crawled, half drug himself the rest of the way onto the bed, tuning over again to look up at his older twin through his tousled black hair. Tavian sighed and forced himself to look away, clenching and unclenching his fists and biting his bottom lip.

"Will you stay?" Tashin's voice came softly, plaintively.

"No," Tavian said, his voice hoarse. "I think that would be a very bad idea, Tash." And without giving Tashin time to ask again, because he knew he might not be able to say no twice, Tavian turned and stiffly walked out of the room making a bee line for the only thing he knew would help him at the moment.

"Sorawen!" Tavian cried, his voice almost cracking as he pounded on his sister-in-law's boudoir door. "Sora, I need you!"

The door flew open and very angry, very night clothes clad Sorawen stood in the doorway, her eyes flashing fire and the promise of a prolonged and painful death. "What do you want, Tavian?! I am not going to sleep with you, so take your drunken self back to your room!" She pushed him sharply away from the door, but he caught her hands. She squeaked in surprise as he pulled her into the hallway.

"Ice water," he breathed looking at her intensely.

"What?" she asked, trying to pull back.

"Can you conjure iced water?" he shouted back.

"Y-yes..."

"Do it. All over me."

Sorawen pulled back, confused and slightly disturbed. "But..."

"Do it!" Tavian shouted, and then gasped as he lost all of his breath, a deluge of nearly freezing water covering him from head to foot in one swift moment. He closed his eyes as he slowly regained his composure, feeling each rivulet of icy water drip from his fingertips, his chin, the ends of his hair, focusing on this feeling until it clouded out what he'd been feeling before and the image of Tashin misty eyed and flushed from drink on his bed was gone. When he was able to breath again he shivered violently once, and fixed his eyes on Zalmon's wife. "Thank you," he whispered, and then turned on his heels to find his room and the empty bed that awaited him.