Stern and serious at first glance; though not because he’s grumpy or unapproachable. Get him in good company and he’ll smile plenty! He’s just a serious person when it comes to his duties, and that tends to carry through to his everyday activities. He’s fairly easy going outside of work; enjoying a good drink and comradery where he can find it.
Current Situation: Currently doing contract work for the Magistry.
[[ Co-written with @thefugitivemango player of @brent-sunborn . @phaithkingston belongs to me. @kaiekasunwhisper , @cebinaruavin and @kynlea for character mention.]]
Birds were chirping in the trees just outside the window at the Kingston residence. Phaith moved about the kitchen as she did every morning. She was an early riser, and often awoke before her partner. She’d gotten into the habit of making a late breakfast for herself and Brent. Today was a bit different, however. They had a guest!
The redhead smiled at the blue haired elven woman as she placed the food down on the table. A friend of Brent’s, she’d said… Phaith had been suspicious at first, worried that the woman might have been associated with Brent's past as a cultist, or perhaps an ex-girlfriend he’d neglected to mention… Thankfully, a brief conversation had put those worries to rest. One of the few friends Brent still had left in Quel’Thalas, it seemed.
“There we are. He should be joining us at any moment.”
As if on cue, the kettle whistled. Syrielle’s ears flickered happily as she watched the Gilnean woman head back over to the kitchen to remove it from the burner. There was an obvious noble upbringing in how she moved about, effortlessly and perfectly pouring three cups of tea and carrying the tray over without spilling a drop, as though she’d rehearsed the movements her entire life. Her posture was perfect, her hair and makeup done up nicely and she wore fine clothing that accentuated an amazing pair of breasts. Brent certainly had taste!
“Thank you,” she accepted the cup, suddenly happy that the same proper style and etiquette had been drilled into her as a Magistrix in Silvermoon City.
Part of her was excited to finally meet the woman Brent had been talking about over the past few years, but at the same time, she wasn’t here to deliver the best of news. She held back a sigh, still uncertain on what to say.
The silence between the two women broke as Brent descended from the upstairs bedroom. He wasn’t expecting guests, so he lazily pulled up some comfortable lounge pants over his naked form. He neglected a shirt. The residence was kept plenty warm, even amidst the cold perpetual rain that rinsed the Gilnean countryside. He yawned, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he reached the final step and turned the corner into the kitchen.
“Mm, put your tea down, sexy. Despite how hard we went at it last night, I’m still plenty ready for another round if you–”
He froze.
Was he seeing things? No, this wasn’t a hallucination. Was it a bad dream? Please, Gods, it was a bad dream! He rubbed his eyes again slowly, before blinking, as if to clear any hindrance from his vision. There was none.
“S-Syrielle?” he managed to sputter, as his brain started to catch up to what he was witnessing.
Syrielle’s worries completely washed away as Brent came into the room only partially clothed. Her ears perked up fully and her mouth hung open, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a smile. She sat back in her chair comfortably, cup of tea in her hands.
“DO go on! Don’t mind me!” she encouraged, eyes locked to Brent’s waist, “You certainly look ready to go.”
Phaith, on the other hand, looked absolutely mortified. With a gasp, her face quickly turned the same shade of red as her hair. Properly embarrassed, she brought a hand up over her eyes and turned to face the counter, away from the two.
Brent reached for the first thing he could find to drape over himself, suddenly VERY aware of how dressed-down he was! The closest thing was, unfortunately, a nearby table cloth. He didn’t care; he wrapped it around himself to cover not just his bare chest, but the slight “morning” rise poking through his pants which, for Gods only knew why, hadn’t subsided yet!
“Phaith, uh… this is Syrielle! She’s ah, erm… a friend of a friend. And we used to, uh… work together. Just work. In the military. She was an officer!”
The words just dribbled from his mouth, almost incoherently, as his brain rushed to catch up. Syrielle Starfrost was in his HOUSE!? How did she even find him? Why was she here!?
“You’re uh… a long way from Quel’Thalas, aren’t you?” he cleared his throat. “What, uh… what brings you by?”
Gods, why was he talking so much? Why was he talking like THAT? He glanced between Syrielle and Phaith nervously, ears perked upright warily!
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Phaith answered, “I should have let you know we had unexpected company.”
It took her a moment to regain her composure, fanning herself a bit because the room suddenly felt very hot. At least she hadn’t been drinking tea when he walked in. Still, she made her way over to kiss Brent on the cheek before heading up the stairs to the bedroom to find him at least a shirt to cover up with.
Syrielle was completely unbothered. Sipping her tea and waggling her eyebrows at Brent as his girlfriend disappeared up the stairs.
“You’d be surprised how easy it is to find an elf in Gilneas. People here LOVE to talk,” she said, “I didn’t have to ask around very long. Which is good. I’m not too sure how long I can stay before they notice I stepped away from my duties.” She cleared her throat, “So I see things are going well! Just curious, are you two attached to staying in Gilneas in any way?”
“Get out.”
When Phaith vanished, so too did Brent’s manners. He scowled at Syrielle, eyes narrowing dangerously. His voice became far more throaty than conversational. And the light in the sitting room seemed to dim considerably around him…
“I gave you ways to contact me. Barging into my home wasn’t one of them. Leave. Now.”
“Yeah, not like you ever barged into MY home, huh?” she shot back, seeming unbothered by his foul mood.
“That was different. I was a cultist, and I was trying to assassinate you.” Brent glowered. “This is way different now, and you know it!”
She sighed as she placed her teacup back down on its saucer, ears lowering slightly as the conversation shifted to a more serious matter.
“The regular methods of contact are risky right now. It’s very VERY important that you not return to Quel’Thalas. At least… not anytime soon. Brent, Sunwhisper’s been compromised. She was captured while crossing the Thalassian Pass and is being held and interrogated.”
Brent frowned deeper at the news, scoffing and shaking his head.
“That idiot…” he huffed. “Alright. I’ll make something up to set Phaith’s mind at ease, and meet you at the pass tonight. Show me where she’s being held, and I can get her out. I shouldn’t have let her go alone in the first place…”
Syrielle shook her head, “No. You need to stay away. The Kingdom is on high alert, especially for her old cultist friends. There’s nothing we can do for her. Not now. Don’t try to reach her or Kynlea. He’s being watched too. The good news is, she’s agreed to atone for her crimes against Quel’Thalas, which was enough to keep her head on her shoulders. As long as she continues to cooperate, I believe she and Kyn will be fine. “
She took a breath before continuing.
“What I’m worried about is, how much does Sunwhisper know about you? Does she know you live here? Understand that she IS cooperating fully. Cebina Ruavin is their main target at the moment, because she’s out causing trouble in Khaz Algar. From what I was able to find out, they know you’re alive, but they aren’t currently looking for you. Which is why I was asking… how attached are the two of you to Gilneas?”
“--Slow down, slow down!” Brent stepped closer to Syrielle, grabbing her shoulder to stop her rambling!
He huffed again, fixing the table cloth that was wrapped around him. His ears flickered, brow furrowed as he quantified as much of what Syrielle had hastily blurted out as he could. Thankfully, he was well awake by now, and managed to catch all of it.
“Kai is a fucking idiot. She’s gonna kill tens– if not hundreds– of people trying to bullheadedly escape custody. Then she’ll get killed anyway. Cebina’s always been trouble, I don’t know what she’s up to, and Kai doesn’t either. But your people aren’t going to accept that answer, right? If you’re telling me she’s been caught, I’m getting her out. Plain and simple. It’s what’s best for everyone.” he stated, firmly. “I’m not just going to turn a blind eye to it. I don’t think you expected me to, either– or you wouldn’t have come all the way here to tell me about it. You know I’m right. You want me to extract her, and you wanna help me do it. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
“No, it isn’t!”
Syrielle’s hand came up to grab Brent's wrist. A reflex from him grabbing her shoulder. She frowned as he completely missed what she was telling him to do.
“My boss is the one holding her and I'm not risking my career to save her. I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to run before they start trying to sniff you out.”
Her other hand reached out to his shoulder squeezing it tightly to drive the point home.
“Brent, you don’t understand. If Sunwhisper escapes, then Kynlea dies.”
“Then I’ll pull him out, too.” Brent shot back, scowling. “I’m not leaving Kai again. I did that once before, and…”
He trailed off, frowning silently. He pulled his hand from Syrielle’s shoulder, and let it fall to his side as he turned his face from hers. Ears wilted; he felt more guilt about that than he’d realized, it seemed.
Ny’alotha was… chaotic. Kai’eka was devoted to the cause until the bitter end, but Brent couldn’t bring himself to stay. He left her there to defend Ny’alotha alone. And when it was all over, he was quick to put it all behind him after leaving the Cult. He even tried making amends for all the misguided harm he’d done, in his own way, hunting down remnant practitioners.
But he never made it up to Kai’eka.
His brow knit tighter, as he slowly exhaled through his nose. His eyes darted back to Syrielle, resolve only compounding as he looked at her again.
“Who’s your boss?”
“My boss is much older and much more powerful than I am and you are not to mess with him under any circumstances. He's highly intelligent, cold and calculating. Most importantly, he's the one keeping the barrier that protects Kynlea active.”
She kept her gaze level with his, her expression void of any pleasantries it had shown earlier.
“Do you understand what I'm telling you? Even if you successfully manage to extract Sunwhisper and Kynlea both, that barrier comes down and Kyn is lost to the void. Kyn doesn't want that. I don't want that. Sunwhisper doesn't want that. There is no scenario here where you can get involved without making the situation worse. The only thing you can do is keep yourself and Phaith safe.”
Her eyes looked past him now, to the Gilnean woman standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Keep your family safe.”
Brent glowered, clearly not content with all the restrictions Syrielle was placing on him. How could she come here and tell him all this, then expect him not to do something about it? His fists clenched– but his ear flickered as he heard Phaith come down the stairs. He relaxed, sighing.
“... You really shouldn’t have come here.” he whispered softly so only Syrielle could hear.
Then he turned– and his demeanor turned with him. The deep glower vanished, brow smoothed, eyes wide and bright again as he beheld Phaith at the bottom of the stairs, holding a shirt for him.
“Thanks.” he smiled to her as he approached for the shirt. “I’ll go slip this on real quick. Syrielle can’t stay much longer, sadly. But you two feel free to keep talking while I get dressed properly, yeah?”
He gave Phaith a kiss on the cheek, before disappearing into the next room– shooting Syrielle a look before he vanished completely.
“No disappearing to go kill any high ranking government officials allowed!” Syrielle called after him.
Clearly, she didn’t hold the same reservations as he did with Phaith present. While the redhead looked a bit confused and worried, she was strangely calm, collected, and mostly, unshocked. Which indicated to the Magistrix that she knew enough about Brent's past. That was good, at least.
Phaith was no fool, and rather skilled at keeping her ears open to listen to conversations she wasn’t part of. She'd collected Brent's shirt quickly enough, but had stood at the top of the stairs to eavesdrop for some time before coming down.
Still, she acted the part and gave Brent an encouraging smile as he left the room. Before addressing Syrielle.
“This Sunwhisper woman, she's…?”
“An ex-cultist, like him. They worked closely together. Sunwhisper died defending Ny’alotha, and was raised by the Ebon Blade.”
Phaith nodded, hands folded politely in front of her, her eyes returning to where Brent had vanished.
“We aren't tied to Gilneas. I've uprooted my tailoring business a few times already. What's one more move, aye?”
“I'm sorry,” Syrielle sighed, ears wilting, “I doubt they'll come hunting for him for no reason. But if he gets involved in any way and they see him as an active threat…”
“No, I appreciate the warning. We'll be cautious, no matter what happens.”
The Magistrix relaxed at that. While she couldn't account for what Brent would do, Phaith had a good head on her shoulders. If anyone could talk him out of doing something stupid, she could. She got up from the table and began to make her way out.
“I should head back before they notice I'm missing. You two stay safe, and good luck.”
“Of course,” Phaith tore her attention away from where her partner had vanished and escorted their guest to the door, “Safe travels.”
Syrielle reached over to take the Gilnean woman's hand, slipping her a communication gem.
“In case something happens. I'll help where I can. But I can't go against Quel’Thalas.” She whispered.
Phaith nodded, quickly pocketing the gem. With that, Syrielle took a few steps away from the door, threading the arcane strands around her with her fingers before teleporting away in a puff of magic.
A few seconds following that, Brent returned, now properly shirted. He looked around for signs of Syrielle, before exhaling a relieved sigh. He smiled at Phaith, and approached her.
“Surprised to see her. We worked together for a while, but we weren’t all that close.” Brent explained. “She just came to deliver some news from Quel’Thalas. I haven’t considered it home for a long time, but I still have some ties there. I’m gonna have to go back and take care of something.”
Phaith couldn’t help but frown at his words. Still she leaned in as he approached her, sliding her hands into his and placing a quick kiss on his lips.
“That doesn't sound like a very good idea,” she admitted, “You don’t even know where to start looking for Sunwhisper, do you? Is this really what you think she wants?”
His ears wilted slightly as he looked at Phaith, lips pressing to a thin line. Another sigh.
“Your hearing is dangerously good, you know that?” he smirked slightly, making a light joke before he shook his head. “I don’t know where she is. But that’s never stopped me before. Is it what she wants? I don’t know that either. There’s a lot I don’t know… and that’s why I have to go.”
He brought Phaith’s hands up between the two of them, and gently kissed her knuckles as he went on, elaborating further. Clearly, she’d heard plenty already! But he had his side to explain.
“What I do know is that she can only be a criminal and a terrorist in their eyes. Whether she’s cooperating or not, they’re not going to let her live. Not for long. She represents everything that that ass-backwards kingdom despises; a traitor, a Death Knight, a cultist– former or not, they don’t care.” he told her, brow furrowing deeper again as he spoke more about it. “She’s always had my back, though. Even when I didn’t. I… I left her, Phaith. I left her to die there in Ny’alotha. I can’t leave her to die in Quel’Thalas, too.”
Phaith nodded, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his.
“I love you, Brent. Whatever you decide to do, I'll support and stand by you. I know you'll be careful, just don't do anything rash, alright?” She placed a kiss on his forehead, before moving back and looking over the home they'd created. It wasn’t the manor she'd grown up in, but she was proud of what they’d built.
“There's a small town near the sea, not far from the dark portal, called Surwich. It was built by Gilneans that survived a ship wreck. Do you want me to start looking? –ah, it might not be a good place to raise kids, though. The woods there are dangerous.”
She sighed, returning her gaze back to him. It was obvious, she was doing her best to stay calm, but stress was evident in her face, “Can you think of a place? Just in case?”
“We won’t have to go anywhere, Phaith.” Brent assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “It’d be a lot safer here– for all of us– than to run off to hide somewhere so derelict as Surwich. The Armistice notwithstanding, it’s better for us here close to a proper city. Quel’Thalas isn’t looking for me. And even if they do decide I’m worth dredging up, they’ll have an impossible time doing so. Even after this.”
He pulled Phaith into an embrace, holding her close as he gently rubbed her back. He hated to see her worry– another reason he felt rather cross at Syrielle for coming by unannounced and dropping this in his lap. She meant well, he knew. But the last thing he wanted was for Phaith to have any reason to panic about things. They’d both had enough of that through their lives.
“... I’ll think of a place though, just in case.” he added, reassuringly. “I’ve got some contacts I can reach out to. New names, identities, whatever we may need. I really don’t think it’ll get to that point, but I’ll prime them just in case. Alright?”
“Alright,” Phaith nodded, leaning into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug and resting her face between his neck and shoulder, “I trust you. Just remember, there might be more than just the two of us soon, hm?” She couldn’t help but smile a bit at the possibility.
Brent smiled too, pulling back from the hug to look at Phaith’s face. He chuckled a bit, giving her hips a playful squeeze as he pressed his forehead to hers.
“Very soon. Be ready when I get back– we’ll get right back to it, I promise.”
She nodded, already eager for his return, but worry still evident on her features.
“How long? You need to give me a timeline or I'll worry the whole time you're away, and neither one of us wants that, aye?”
“Four days, tops. I’ll contact you somehow if it’ll take more than that. But operations like these happen quickly. The real time sink at the beginning will be gathering information and planning things. But that’s also the lowest risk time, so if I think it’ll take longer I can still reach out easily”
Another nod, before she pressed her lips to his. A deeper, more passionate embrace this time pressing her body against his. She wanted to make certain her touch would linger long after he left.
Brent pulled Phaith in close, returning the passion of the deep kiss. It was over too soon, as he pulled away to get ready for the impromptu operation to save Kai’eka. His hand lingered in hers as he stepped back, not wanting to let go. But after a reassuring nod, he pulled it away and went upstairs.
The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity.
Kynlea leaned back against Bey’ron's lavish desk, arms crossed over his chest, his narrowed eyes peering into the large circular portal the Magister had set up. He was dressed down in comfortable clothing, no armor and no weapons, but despite the relaxed position he’d taken, he was tense… guarded.
The swordsman didn’t look great. His long disheveled hair was loosened from its usual hair tie, and lack of sleep was evident from the bags under his eyes. He was physically drained and mentally exhausted. On top of that, a pounding headache hammered through his skull from all the drinking he'd been doing.
He'd answered the Magister’s summons, simply expecting a report on the interrogation. Had he known that THIS was the moment he was going to meet his mother face to face for the first time, he would have prepared a little better. Though, it certainly made Bey’ron's story about him being captured and roughed up believable…
Kai’eka, on the other hand, didn’t look as terrible as he'd expected. Other than the arrow still lodged in her shoulder and some strands of grey hair out of place, she didn’t appear too roughed up. Her lich blue eyes glowed brightly, her frame tall and strong. She looked every bit the cold, muscle bound warrior woman that Brent and Gattius had described. As an Ebon Knight, he had expected her to look a lot more dead than she did, but despite her pale features, she appeared extremely well preserved. She was leaning back against the wall facing him, hands bound behind her back, allowing the light the portal created to illuminate her features through the strong metal bars. It was jarring how similar they looked even after her transformation; the same eyes, nose, and jaw… Same height and build. Even her neutral, unapproachable expression matched his own.
It certainly gave him a newfound respect for his father, realizing that Astaloren had to raise a child that looked exactly like the woman who screwed him over.
“Not how I wanted us to meet.”
Her voice startled him as she spoke up, finally breaking the long silence.
“Yeah…” he replied, bringing a hand up to scratch at his beard, “To be honest, I always imagined it starting with me punching you in the face.”
The corners of her lips twitched up in a smile. If there'd been any doubt on if this was really her son or not, the immediate promise of violence confirmed it.
“Wouldn't have it any other way, Kid.”
“Haven't been a kid in a very long time,” he pushed himself off the desk, frowning, “You missed that by well over a century.”
“I know, I just–”
“Just what?” he snapped, “Thought that you could just slide into my life now that you feel lonely and bored enough?”
“That's not it… I…”
She trailed off, casting her icy gaze off to the side, her expression remaining infuriatingly neutral. Her ears flickered slightly, but remained where they were. Her lack of reaction bothered him much more than he expected. Perhaps it was the alcohol still running through his system, but it really pissed him off.
“No, fucking look at me!” He growled, closing the distance between himself and the portal. He grabbed the bars of the cage, gripping them tightly as he peered angrily at his mother.
“It's the fucking LEAST you can do!” He continued, golden eyes flaring, “You abandoned me and dad! Left him no warning or context on what YOU afflicted me with! And for over two hundred years, not ONCE did you ever attempt to check up on us! It took you TEN fucking years to even realize that dad was dead! Did you even TRY?!”
His outburst earned him a reaction at least, her ears lowered slightly, and she resumed eye contact, that cold, guarded expression now gone from her gaze.
“You know,” he sneered, “when I was younger, I always thought you'd come back someday. Despite all the times dad said it wasn’t gonna happen, I always hoped… I had all these scenarios in my head of what I'd say to you, what you'd say to me, and practiced all sorts of imaginary conversations we’d have… I thought of you so FUCKING much!” He chuckled, darkly, “And now, here you are. And I finally realize how one-sided it all was… You never thought of me, did you?”
“I couldn't allow myself to!” She finally replied, his words finally triggering a reaction, “Because, if I did, I would have gone back to find you! The shadows see EVERYTHING, Kynlea! They would have followed me and taken you!” Her voice broke under the distress, and she had to take a moment to regain her composure, “Either way, I was losing you… at least this way, there was a small hope that you could have a normal life.”
“The only reason I lived a normal life is thanks to dad and Everblaze! You could have told him about the mark! Could have turned yourself in back then instead of now! At least then you wouldn't have committed half the fucking atrocities you and your goddamn cult are responsible for!”
She opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again, ears lowering. He wasn’t wrong. She'd been too devoted to the cult for that option to have ever crossed her mind. She would have never gotten involved with the Twilights, and she and Alteris would have never had that falling out. Brent and Thea might not have been recruited, and possibly lived normal, happy lives outside of the cult's influence. Knowing what she did now, it was such an obvious choice.
“I did what I thought I had to do with what I knew at that time. I'm still working on unlearning a lot of fucked up shit,” she admitted, “Can’t take any of it back, much as I wish I could.”
“Why’d you ever get involved with that stuff?”
“Was born into it,” she sighed, “My parents worshiped the Void Lords long before I was born. I wasn’t shadow marked the same way you were, but I was conceived in a void worshiping ritual. Was… created and blessed with the strength and drive to become one of their fiercest enforcers; the ‘Shieldmaiden of Hope’s End’,” She couldn’t help a ghost of a smile, remembering how proud she'd been to receive that title, “My sole purpose was to use the strength and power I was gifted with to protect and ensure the completion of the Old Gods’ plans. To stop and remove anyone that dared interfere or get in the way, and to support every effort to bring them power. It’s… all I lived for.”
((“The one break from her Void indoctrination was leaving you to a better life. Not forcing you to serve the shadows like she was forced to. It's fucked, man. I won't lie to you. But leaving you behind and breaking all ties with you? That's the most maternal choice she's ever made in her entire life.”))
His ears flickered as he remembered Brent's words.
“...because it's all you ever knew,” he concluded.
“Yeah.”
Kynlea rested his head against the bars and closed his eyes. The cool metal felt good, helping to quell his growing headache.
“I never wanted kids,” she admitted, “Won't pretend what happened with your dad wasn’t an accident.”
“Yeah, that was obvious, thanks.”
“Didn't change the fact that you became the most important person in my life that night,” she admitted, unable to maintain eye contact as she struggled to keep her composure, “And for a brief moment, before the fear and the panic set in… the thought of the three of us becoming a family felt… perfect.”
“Not perfect enough for you to stick around, though, huh?”
“Never claimed to be gifted with emotional intelligence… or critical thinking.”
“Guessing they didn't teach that in shadow cult school?”
She looked up at him again to find him smirking. His stern and angry expression had faded away. It was the exact same expression Alteris would give her when cracking a joke to lighten the mood after an argument.
“They really didn't,” she couldn't help but smile.
He returned the smile, waving her over to come stand in front of the bars.
“Let's get that arrow out.”
She pushed herself off the wall and moved forward so that he could tend to the object. He did quick work of it, taking hold of the shaft while his other hand braced her shoulder. With a firm tug, he pulled it out in one swift motion. There was no blood flow to stem due to her undead nature, and the wound would heal itself over time through her hemomancy.
With that done he encouraged her to turn around so that he could untie the rope that bound her wrists.
“You get permission from that Magister to do this?”
“You complaining?”
As the rope was unbound and her arms finally freed, she immediately turned around to face Kynlea, reaching out to grab him and pull him into a tight hug through the bars. He returned the embrace with just as much vigor, closing his misting eyes and leaning into her as much as the bars would allow.
“Thought you were supposed to punch me in the face”, she managed to joke, eyes welling up with tears.
(( Co-written with @lordbeyron / @thefugitivemango / @kynlea , @nepenthea, @cebinaruavin and @brent-sunborn for character mention.))
~*~*~
The portal closed instantly behind Kai’eka, leaving her in a small room. No windows, no doors. There was a perforation in the lower part of the wall, which looked like it was meant to pass trays of food, but it looked to be sealed shut. The room was shaped like a cube; as wide as it was tall, tall as it was long– just enough to fit the cot, which was the only furniture in the small cell. The ceiling was high enough that Kai’eka’s ears didn’t quite touch it, but only barely. Light seemed to emanate from the bottom edges of the room, causing a low, eerie glow. A bucket sat in the corner away from the cot.
Otherwise, the room was empty.
Kai'eka's ears flickered, unable to hide her frustration at the situation. As an
Ebon Blade, she didn’t require heat, food, water or sleep, but the enclosed space wasn't something she enjoyed. Of course, she wasn't in a situation to be picky.
Idly, she tested the ropes that bound her wrist. Something she could easily snap off on a regular day, but she was still feeling the heavy toll the battle and rune trap had taken on her. Having been sapped of her strength on top of losing her blades…. the situation wasn't ideal.
With a huff, she leaned back against the wall, her mind finally starting to catch up on everything that had just happened.
In hindsight, going through the Thalassian Pass hadn’t been the best option. But even then, the truce between Alliance and Horde had stretched out for years, and while she was an enemy of Quel'Thalas, no one had seen her since her physical transformation through the Void and Undeath. She'd assumed there wouldn’t be an issue as long as she stayed clear of the Eversong Woods.
Clearly, she assumed wrong.
She couldn’t shake the Magister’s words, however. He knew she was there to meet someone, and while she didn't think highly of the Phoenix Guard, having two of their members on top of a Magister seemed excessive force to guard the pass. And the way that rune trap had immediately locked in and drained her source of power…
“...heh, fuckers knew I was coming.”
Her words were met with silence. But she wasn’t left in silence for long, however. Light flooded the cell as a portal opened in the ceiling. It revealed metal bars crossed in a hexagonal lattice pattern. Beyond them, the Magister could be seen sitting at a desk in an elegant Quel’dorei decorated office. The alignment of the portals were clearly skewed; while the portal had opened above Kai’eka’s cell, the Magister sat in a chair looking straight ahead into the cell from his side.
“You sound surprised.” he stated, clearly having heard her commentary. “We have eyes everywhere, you know. We go to great lengths to track the whereabouts of enemies of our Kingdom, Kai’eka. And you’ve proven to be one time and time again.”
Bey’ron glanced up from the desk, then back down. He scribbled notes on parchment, organizing each into meticulous stacks. It was too far away to tell whether or not the paperwork concerned Kai’eka, or if he was simply multitasking his interrogation with something else.
“Not bothering to change your name when you were reborn was a foolish choice. Stomping through the Thalassian Pass, even more so.” he scoffed. “Did you really expect to be greeted cordially?”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, already exasperated by the conversation.
“Trying to make It sound like security's always been tight. You have any idea how fucking easy it was to infiltrate the Phoenix Guard?”
“Mm, must have been quite easy, if you somehow managed to do it.” Bey’ron quipped back. “It wasn’t always so tight, no. But we’ve learned from the mistakes of the past. It’s easier to see threats coming when we know what to look for.”
Another parchment meticulously signed and sorted amongst the piles of papers on his desk. He set his quill down, looking at Kai’eka directly as he clasped his hands. He smirked.
“Case in point; here you are.”
He stood from the desk, and circled around in front of it. As he did, an Imp appeared through a portal and dropped into his now-empty chair, taking over the paperwork while Bey’ron focused fully on his new detainee.
“Now, as we discussed before, you’ll answer some questions for me, and I’ll consider doing the same if I like what I hear.” he restated his offer from before. “Let’s start with an easy one, shall we? One even a brute like you should know– what is your leader, Xal’atath, planning?”
Of all the questions she had been expecting, that hadn’t even crossed her mind. She hadn’t touched anything in regards to the cult since Ny'alotha. Confusion was evident on her features.
“What the fuck does that crazy bitch have to do with anything?” She replied, “Haven't touched void shit since I died.”
The Imp scribbled down some notes as she spoke, and stopped once she did. It was apparent the little demon was transcribing her answers. Bey’ron leaned against the desk, and crossed his arms.
“Where are the rest of your traitorous cohorts? Nepen’thea Dusksinger, Brent Sunborn, Cebina Ruavin?”
The Ebon Knight looked up at the Magister, eyebrow raised. For someone who claimed to have eyes everywhere, he certainly didn't seem to know anything.
“Thea is dead. Backstabbed back when we were working in Nazjatar. Alt was killed not long after that. Brent left the cult around the same time as me. He managed to put that shit behind him and is settling down now. Cebina is still out there. Approached me a while back and asked me to be part of some dumb plan. Told her to get lost. Haven't seen her since. No idea where Karas ended up. Haven't seen him since the Fourth War.”
“Ah yes, Alteris… your brother. I had nearly forgotten about him.” Bey’ron nodded slowly. “But Cebina did approach you, yes? Why did you decline her invitation?”
Again, the Imp scribbled down more notes, recording everything Kai’eka said. Aside from the scritching of his quill against the parchment and the gentle humming of the portal, everything else was quiet. The Magister looked to the Death Knight, expectantly.
“Do you expect me to believe you left behind everything to which you had devoted your entire mortal life? Aside from your friend Sunborn– allegedly– you’d be the only one to ever do so. Quite… anomalous.”
“Because it was all a fucking lie!”
Kai’eka's eyes flared in anger, her face twisted in a scowl. Hands balled into fists, straining the rope.
“I gave EVERYTHING to the Old Gods! Devoted my whole damn life! Sacrificed everything I had to ensure the cult would survive! Fuck, I even died for them! And guess what I got for it? Not a damned thing! Everything I was promised, everything I worked for… everything I was taught from the moment I knew how to walk? All lies!”
She growled.
“So no! Not interested. Told her to fuck off and get out of my sight!”
The Magister couldn’t help but grin at her outburst. Her frustration and anger, the first and only true emotion she’d exhibited besides the baseline irritation of being captured. He chuckled, laughing deeply at her predicament. At her comeuppance. It felt harsher against the background of silence. Even the Imp’s writing had concluded, the demon standing by waiting while his master enjoyed Kai’eka’s admission.
“By the Sunwell itself, so you did learn your lesson! It only took dying for your hollow cause, but you finally caught on!” he laughed raucously. “I do so love seeing traitors get what they deserve!”
Kai'eka sneered at him, wanting nothing more than to punch that dumb grin off of his face and shove those fancy quills up his ass.
“Whatever. We both know where this is going. Just get the fucking execution over with. I'm done talking.”
“Mm, just as well. I’ve had enough listening to your lies, in turn. We’ll set to executing you tomorrow, perhaps. You… and your son.”
He pushed himself from the desk nonchalantly, and began walking around to the other side. The Imp quickly scurried out from the chair, and took his place off to the side on the desk. Bey’ron examined the stack of parchments, appraisingly.
“He’s clearly in league with you, as well. My agents observed him interacting with your messenger. And we apprehended him at Dawnstar Spire awaiting your meeting, just before we apprehended you.” he explained, sorting the logs his Imp had taken. “Two traitors, publicly executed on the same day. Mother and son, too! Certainly should draw a big crowd, don’t you think?”
That certainly got her attention. She’d set to staring at the wall in front of her, having simply accepted her fate. When he mentioned her son, however… Her eyes widened and dread overtook her features and ears pinned back as he spoke.
“He isn’t part of this! Never has been! Let him go!”
“Tch, more lies? Come, now. I know all about the shadow mark you left on him. You’ve come back to reclaim him, and bring him into your Void-worshipping fold. I’m not a fool, Kai’eka.” Bey’ron scoffed, shaking his head dismissively. “Your traitorous lineage will end with him. If you’d like, we can have your guillotine facing his gallows so you can watch him hang before we behead you.”
He finished stacking the parchments, and looked back up at Kai’eka with a grin. He waved his hand, and the portal slowly began to close.
“Tomorrow, most likely. I’m tired this evening, and still have to finish interrogating Kynlea before I can retire. Enjoy your last night, Miss Sunwhisper.”
“No no NO! I'm telling you the truth! The only reason he has that mark is because I made a stupid decision when I was younger! I left him so that no one could trace him back to me! Because I didn't want the cult to find him! I didn't want that life for him!”
She pushed herself off the wall, panic set in her features as she called out at the closing portal, “When I found out Astaloren was dead, I wanted to make sure he was safe! I swear! I just want him to be safe!”
She struggled with the bonds now, desperate to get free somehow. She felt tears sting her eyes. Alteris had been right. She should have stayed away.
“This is MY fault! It was my mistake! Kynlea shouldn't pay for it!” Her voice broke in her distress, “Magister, PLEASE!”
The portal held open slightly at the last second, the rift only about a foot across. Slowly, it crept open once more to reveal the Magister again, arms crossed as he peered at Kai’eka. His smirk was gone, brow deeply furrowed, ears perked high. His felfire eyes were piercing, narrowed on the Death Knight’s tear-touched face.
“That almost sounded sincere, Miss Sunwhisper.” he spoke, tone dripping with accusation. “Do you know how Astaloren managed to spare you son a terrible fate of being consumed by the Void thanks to your carelessness?”
He gave no time to answer, only to contemplate the question, before his gloved hand pointed to himself.
“Your son lives because I deem it so. He sleeps peacefully because I allow it. He breathes another breath because of my mercy.” he spelled out in no uncertain terms. “Suppose I believe you. That you’ve shed your Cultist past, and your reasons for returning to my kingdom are truly to reunite with the son you abandoned– regardless, you’d still have much for which you must atone. If you’ve truly learned that harsh lesson, and finally see the empty promises the Shadows offer… atonement would be something I would expect you’d seek, given the atrocities you committed in the name of your false and abhorrent Gods.”
He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Do you? Do you seek atonement?” he asked, plainly. “Because such a penance is the only way I’d ever let a monster like you see your son again.”
It was strange. Even though she didn't need to breathe, Kai’eka’s chest still rose and fell in her distress as she listened to every word. Her answer was immediate.
“I… I just want him safe from the void. Safe from the shadows. If you can guarantee that, then… I'll atone… whatever it takes. You can get someone to dig through my head if you don't believe me.”
“Hmph. You know as well as I do that there's no guaranteed way to protect yourself from the shadows.” the Magister scoffed. “However… I'm exceptionally capable. The fact Kynlea is still free of the Void's influence should be evidence enough of that.”
He sighed, and shook his head. He shifted his hands from clasped behind him to folded in front of him. His stern expression softened, if only a bit.
“That won't be necessary. You have, against all odds, convinced me of the authenticity of your intentions.” Bey'ron stated. “And with that, not only do I feel merciful enough not to execute you, but furthermore to arrange for you to meet the son you abandoned over two hundred years ago.”
A smirk returned to his face.
“But make no mistake, Kai’eka Sunwhisper, you will atone. In exchange for keeping Kynlea alive, both thus far and from here on out… you work for me, now. Is that absolutely clear?”
Her ears remained lowered, flickering as she listened attentively. She'd managed to calm herself somewhat. It was a conflicting clash of emotions. Despite the hate she'd built up against this man in front of her in such a short period of time, he was also the only reason Kynlea was alive.
To say she was surprised he was sparing her life was an understatement. He was going to let her live AND grant her request to see Kynlea? It certainly felt too good to be true. What was in it for him, other than yet another hired muscle?
She nodded, agreeing to the terms. She could figure it out later. Right now, she was in no position to argue.
“Understood,” she replied.
“Good. We’ll start by hunting down your former comrade, Miss Ruavin. You clearly hold no stock in her ambitions, so instead you’ll help me break them.” Bey’ron instructed, straightening his robes. “But first… I told you I’d consider answering some of your questions if I liked what I heard. And since we’ve come to this agreement, suffice it to say that I do. So, do you have anything you’d like to ask me?”
“Why do you care that I atone?” She asked plainly, “Magisters aren't known for their mercy.”
Kai’eka wasn't always the sharpest, but she'd lived and worked in Quel'Thalas a very long time before her exile. Bey’ron would certainly get high praise and influence for capturing and executing a traitor. She couldn’t imagine anyone being happy with his decision to let her live. From what she experienced at the Pass, he wasn’t short on muscle, either.
“Mm, no… I suppose we aren't, are we?” Bey’ron chuckled, amused at how enduring the Magistry's reputation for ruthlessness was. “If you don't atone, the alternative is death. I think that would be a waste, don't you? You're rather strong, and well experienced. Not too bright, but so long as you're obedient, that's hardly an issue. And seeing as you literally died for your devotion, misplaced as it may have been, that shows you possess loyalty. In short… you'd make a much better asset than a corpse.”
He shrugged, crossing his arms.
“Besides, if you don't atone, I'd have to kill your son, too. That would also be a waste, I think.” the Magister sighed. “You two possess a lot of the same qualities that make you such promising assets.”
Her ears flickered in annoyance.
“Noted,” she replied, “What about the mark? Are you able to remove it? Kynlea goes free now, yeah?”
“Unfortunately, no. It is dormant, however. Isolated from detection by the Void Lords or their agents.” the Magister explained. “But otherwise, yes. I’ll have him released from custody, and bring him here in an hour or two for the heartfelt reunion you’ve been seeking with him.”
He stepped back, and once again bid the portal to close. It shrank down quickly, the connection between the cell and wherever the Magister was fading quickly. His voice echoed before the portal vanished;
“Welcome back to Quel’Thalas, Kai’eka Sunwhisper.”
Upon Raven’s desk in the main building of the vineyard sat a small wrapped basket, wrapped in what was probably an expensive, blood red silk. Attached to it was a gold leaf gilded card with the name ‘Kynlea’ written in an elegant script. The seneschal knew his bodyguard always arrived earlier, and his first stop was always the desk.
Nestled inside of the basket was a bottle of red wine, not from their vineyard, and decorated with a bow. In front of it was a small box of chocolate dipped fruits, a covered plate of various cheeses and meats, and plate of crackers, slices of a thin bread, and a knife. Raven had put a lot of effort into this, trying to tailor the flavors of everything specifically to his bodyguard’s tastes. At least the ones he’d gleaned from their interactions.
The inside of the card was just as embellished as the front, and the note read:
Kynlea,
I know you’re not one for sweet stuff, but it happens to be that one time of the year that people vomit feelings all over the place. I’m grateful for you and your protection. I enjoy your banter, and it is so refreshing to have someone smart enough to keep up and even surpass me in some cases. If you’d like company or help consuming the delicious things in your basket, you know where I am.
Happy Valentine’s Day,
Raven
The silk that wrapped everything held a familiar smell to Kyn, and that same scent wafted from the card as well. It was the sweet, almost spicy cologne that Raven favored. Cashmere and vanilla. Above the Happy Valentine’s Day, it looked as if something had been written and covered with white paint. Did Raven make a mistake in his script? That didn’t even happen when he was nervous. Maybe he’d written something that he regretted, and had to fix it before leaving the gift.
The smell of coffee was starting to wafte out from the back room; a sign that the seneschal was almost ready to start his day.
Kynlea couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as he read the script. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile for a brief moment, before he looked around to see if Raven wasn’t watching him from somewhere. If he was, the bodyguard couldn’t see him.
Carefully, calloused fingers opened up the silk wrapping.
“Heh...”
The seneschal had great taste, that he couldn’t deny. Everything he did had a certain extravagance to it. Kynlea should have expected this from their interactions. Raven was a shameless flirt, and he certainly hadn’t held back when it came to his bodyguard.
Kynlea brought a hand up to scratch at his beard. He didn’t have anything to give the man in return for the gift...
...or did he?
There was still some time left before his shift started. With a final look around to make certain that no one was watching, Kynlea scooped up the basket and followed the scent of coffee into the back room.
Drop me a character name and I’ll reveal my muse’s heart…
💔 Non-existent
💗 Very low
💗💗 A little
💗💗💗 Hopeful
💗💗💗💗 High
💗💗💗💗💗 Maximum
Raven Direwing
VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗💗
“He’s pretty cute, actually, especially when he gets all flustered. His smile is contagious, I have to admit. He’s on the lean side, but not to the point where I’d be afraid to break him in a spare. On the fancy side of things. Always dresses nice and obviously enjoys the finer things in life.”
FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗💗
“I’ve only has a few conversations with him, but enjoyed both. Easy to relax around and fun to tease and flirt with. He’s someone I’d like to get to know better, maybe over a drink or something. You know... when I’m not training or working...“
SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗💗💗💗
“Fuck, if I wasn’t his bodyguard... It would complicate my job, though.”
ROMANTIC INTENT: 💗
“I’ve talked to the guy twice. Sure, we’ve flirted back and forth, but I’m pretty sure that’s as far as things will go. I enjoy spending time with him but... Dating him would conflict with my job too much. Hard to stay focused on guarding someone when you’re distracted, you know?”
