-

Ar’thilmus gave a soft chuckle as she fondly watched her children fighting with a set of pillows, striking at one another’s tiny limbs with cushioned blows. It amused the mother elf to see the female of the twins, Aza’lihnlia, overpower her brother with the pillow, knocking him off the bed to which caused her to roll in the bedsheets in fits of giggles. Lakil, the boy, began to wail loudly, tears springing to his little blue eyes, but Ar’thilmus reached across to her son, stroking his fiery-red hair until his cries subdued. The small child looked up and gave his mother a smile, which she returned affectionately. With a little aid from Ar’thilmus, Lakil rejoined his sister, attempting his revenge by using two pillows instead of one; this seemed to amuse the pair.

At this moment, the door opened and Ar’thilmus glanced over her shoulder to see the course. There was no one there, however, the door standing open on its own accord. Perhaps it was just the wind, Ar’thilmus thought to herself, for that door had been on a loose hinge now for several weeks. Or perhaps… The cold hand touched her cheek and she jumped startled. A chuckle came out of the air as a pale-skinned, pale-haired moon elf materialized over her, lowering his body onto her lap.

“Di’thang…”

“We would have expected you to be used to our way by now, love…”

Di’thang gave her a gentle smirk, his golden eyes giving his usual emotionless stare. She wrinkled her nose at him.

“I am used to it.”

“Of course… of course.”

Again he chuckled in the pit of his throat, and as her eyes narrowed at him threateningly, he leaned in against her chest, riding his lips gently over hers. She allowed him the pleasure for just a moment, privately enjoying the warm tenderness of his lips, before pulling away from them.

“You are impossible, Di’thang…”

“We’d not have it any other way, Ar’thilmus.”

She gave him a smirk, sticking her tongue out at him and turning away. Di’thang shrugged his armoured shoulders nonchalantly, beginning to then kiss her pointed Elven ear, his tongue teasing over the tender flesh, touching the sensitive skin and drawing an involuntary shudder from his wife as she leant her ear in against his lips.

“Mummy!”

The young girl’s panicked cry drew the attention of the elder elves; their loving embraces quickly forgotten. Ar’thilmus gave a cry also and leapt up, forcing Di’thang from her lap, as she saw her son holding in his hands a ball of blue energy on which Aza’lihnlia stared in horror. Lakil himself looked uncertain, and almost terrified, by the strange force hovering in his palms, and he too began to scream out in horror.

“Magic Missile!” Ar’thilmus screamed out in realization, and thinking fast she leapt across the room, giving her son a rough shove. Lakil tumbled off the edge of the double bed, the unusual ball of energy flying from his palm and crashing into the wall, just inches from his sister’s head. The impact resulted in half of the wall falling away, becoming no more than painted plaster on the carpet below.

Ar’thilmus lay now over her son, his cries of pain and fright muffled against her chest, as Aza’lihnlia’s screams were soothed by Di’thang’s hand on her lips. Ar’thilmus lifted herself, looking down at Lakil and frowning deeply. The elf boy had taken a currently swelling bruise to the side of the head where it had collided with the floor, but this was thankfully and hastily healed with a wave of his mother’s divine hand and a blessing given to the Lady of Loss. Ar’thilmus cast a quick glance now to Aza’lihnlia but she was well in Di’thang’s arms, all but a little startled. Satisfied, Ar’thilmus turned her attention to the demolished wall, wrinkling her nose at it, and then to Lakil, shaking beneath her.

“Victor used that spell often… it seems you are your father’s child after all, Lakil.”

Only as the words left her lips did Ar’thilmus realize what she had said, and biting heavily on her bottom lip she glanced to her husband… but he was gone.

-

That week had passed quickly, the incident of that evening forgotten at least for the moment by all of the family… save for one. That night Di’thang tended to the children as was the usual; Ar’thilmus needed to catch up on her rest at least a few nights a week, and for this reason she now slept. The twins had been restless, particularly Lakil. Di’thang chose first to settle Aza’lihnlia for she was a light sleeper. He stroked his fingers along her auburn brow, smiling fondly at her. She reminded him of Ar’thilmus at times, and he knew she would grow to be as beautiful and as sharp as her mother. Di’thang then, satisfied that Aza’lihnlia was sleeping peacefully, looked now to Lakil, sat sucking his thumb in the bed beside his sister. Di’thang gave him a slight smile, which the small boy returned with a childish giggle, despite the thumb between his lips.

Di’thang removed from his armor a small jar of powder, white in color but thick in texture, carefully adding it to the young boy’s milk. He shook the bottle and handed it down to Lakil, who inquisitively looked at the drink inside.

“What is it, Father?”

Di’thang tilted his head as Lakil’s deep blue eyes stared up at him, his red hair having fallen down over some of his pale little face; it had grown well over the past season.

“It will you sleep, Lakil.”

The child grinned, swigging down the milk thirstily, as Di’thang watched over him. Draining the contents, Lakil returned the now empty bottle to his stepfather, giving a yawn and laying his little head back on the pillow beside Aza’lihnlia’s. Di’thang gave a gentle, satisfied smirk.

“…and our name is Di’thang.”

Di’thang shook his head at Lakil, returning the jar of powdered poison to the folds of his armor and stepping back to vanish into the shadows.

-