Passionate Ambivalence

On his return Viren brings the serpent, but leaves it in its basket by the door, hoping not to antagonize Harrow further.  He's already thinking this won't work, and he needs alternate plans, but it's almost certainly too late. His daughter's brilliance will fail, his valiant son may fall, untold soldier's lives lost, and for what?

Even speaking with Harrow doesn't go as planned.  They couldn't have done worse if they'd meant to. But there's a certain fitting clarity in his current position.

"You're right," he says, kneeling, drawing ragged breaths, "My place is here."  There's a calm descending on him, dampening the flaring anger at the stupidity of loss.

Harrow says nothing for minutes, just breathing, gasping in air like he's drowning.  Eventually he speaks, almost a whisper.

"Thank you."  He sinks down again onto the ornate chair with a groan.

Viren glances up at him, shuffles forward.  "It's not hubris for a High Mage to sometimes stand beside the throne,  rather than before it. Crown and staff both rule and serve, since ancient days.  That is the High Mage's place. But my place is here.” He looks back down at the stone floor. “My spirit is yours to command."

He has been inching forward til he is again at Harrow's feet.  The king reaches out and grasps his shoulder. Viren looks up, meeting Harrow’s eyes.

"And your heart?"

"Forever."  The barest or whispers.  Feeling completely drained, he sighs and gently leans his forehead against the king's armored knee.  Fingertips begin stroking his hairline. His eyes are wet.

"To lose you when I might have saved you…” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That would destroy me."

Harrow shakes his head.  He reaches out to pull his mage up with him as he stands, then starts pacing the room.  Viren leans on his staff, his knee still smarting from leaning on it so long, and watches.

"I could face this if Sarai were here."

Viren huffs and throws his arm out. "Harrow, she would want you to fight!  You know that."

"She'd accept any decision I needed to make.  But..” The king stops pacing and gives his mage a small nod.  “ You're right, she'd help me find the heart to fight."

Viren comes to stand in front of him, the clink of his staff on the stone the only other sound besides Pip’s quiet chatter.

"Harrow, please, think of your boys,” he pleads. “The crown may have sins to atone for, but the king has children who need him."

Sarai would have made that argument better, too.

                                                              ____

The end is coming.  The shadows creep silently up the steps, and death within them.

King and mage stand shoulder to shoulder, staring at the heavy chamber door.  The sound of armored bodies crumpling to the stone floor just outside is the only noise to be heard.  Even Pip has gone still. No shouting, no weapons being drawn. Just quiet death.

Harrow swallows.  "What ideas did you have besides that snake?"

"It was Claudia's idea, actually." A small strained smile from her father.

"She's a very clever girl.” Harrow peers at his mage out of the corner of his eye. “My answer is still no."

"There's only one other thing I'm able to do.” Viren pauses. “It is dark magic”

"Obviously."

"Not only that.  It's horrific.” The muffled sounds outside the bedchamber’s door have stopped.  “You will feel tainted by having witnessed it. You will...hate me, and want me dead."

Harrow frowns, straightening his back.

"I’ve seen you do a great many things with your dark magic. Viren, please, my children… I can’t not -”

"You will! …I will pay that price, if not gladly..."

He reaches out to take Harrow's hand.  Harrow swallows as the mage presses his lips to his knuckles.  When Viren straightens, their eyes meet.

“Viren -” Harrow starts to speak but quiets when Viren squeezes his hand.  

“Forever, as I said, my king.”

He releases the king’s hand with a small smile and turns back to the door, readying his staff.

Death breaches the door.

                                                                         ___

Even without the smashed-in door, they can tell the elves are there; they just can’t quite see them.

Viren gives no them time to begin their attack.  The purple jewel in his staff begins to glow, warping and disturbing the air and light around them.  The elves begin to scream.

Harrow jumps back, terrified, as he watches tendrils of energy lash at barely-perceptible forms, utterly merciless in their destruction.  The elves' souls are ripped loose from their bodies, flayed and torn asunder. Bodies finally become visible just to crumble into choking dust.  Unearthly wails echo through the castle and far into the night beyond.

Viren's eyes, both dark and too brightly lit, pierce through Harrow and he shudders.  He looks like a monster from the worst of nightmares, eldritch and inescapable. Still, when the energy drains away and he sways, Harrow catches him, easing Viren's body to the floor.  

He stares into the face of his beloved mage.  What stares back isn't Viren. Harrow prays that's temporary.

There's commotion in the hallway.  Soren and Claudia, followed by Callum, shouting,

"Dad!"