Dorian Ursuul's Story

"Whoever tends to these gardens are masterful at their craft." Arkaelus smiled fondly. "Actually my mother designed it. The same plants are brought in in to replace those that have died, but everything has remained the same since she made it. I'll thank her for you next time I pray." His mother had died several years ago, when an outbreak of smallpox hit the land. It was contained, but it still took her. Fortunately he knew she was with Khali now, in a better place.

"I must admit, I do not do well with small talk...I'm rather out of my element...." The king laughed at her words. "Surely you must have some skill in the matter. How else would you talk to your suitors?" He asked. Arkaelus had a few senators that have offered their daughters' hands in marriage, as well as a couple princesses of free cities across the Northern Sea. Still he wasn't quite interested in any them. His advisers have even suggested taking up marriage with an Ashkaran princess, but the last thing Arkaelus wanted was to have another pompous royal in the palace.





His flurry of blows were working well in the beginning. Although Zexen dodged most of them, the one that was blocked staggered Dorian's opponent. Maybe he could simply pummel him to submission. Then half way through his fifth swing, Zexen bashed Dorian with his shield. Stunned, Dorian dropped is sword and stumbled back a yard.

Regaining his senses he knew that to continue fighting with a sword wasn't going to work. Zexen was simply too fast. Dorian, however, still had few tricks up his sleeve. He called upon the Vir flowing in him and his veins glowed. His skin began to turn to stone. A mid level spell, no need to go any higher. He cast bull strength on himself for the extra power. Then he dashed at Zexen full might and arms wide out. Dorian intended to prevent his opponent from escaping his bull run. All he needed to do was close in and begin a barrage of punches.

A frown flickered across Fiona’s features for a moment as it appeared the room was dispersing with the majority of its members venturing outside to spectate what appeared a duel of sorts between their host nations General and someone she was unfamiliar with. As entertaining as it would quite probably be to watch these two make complete fools of themselves for their amusement Fiona would have preferred to resolve the matters at hand, but alas that would have to wait. Also as she glanced towards where their host had sat in what she could only describe as a withdrawn surly mood, though in part that description may have been slight projection she noticed that one of the Fae, the woman Fiona had made note of earlier no less, had already brightened his mood as she stole him away from the gathering.

While in the Fae Queens absence it appeared that those who had remained in the room had in turn gathered around the last of her party and were now venturing into the early evening air to spectate a dance by the sound of their animated discussion and their invitation to join, which was certainly something different to what everyone else had left to see at least. But given a choice of spectacle a duel seemed more fitting for the event than a dance despite the considerable lack of subtle conflict such a gathering of leaders who usually herald.

Her expression had resumed a soft smirk while she mulled over events before refilling her wine glass and standing, her fingers wrapping around her staff as it ceased its perfect balancing act. The base made a gentle thunk sound in time with the click of her footsteps on the stone floor as she made her way through the throng of the remaining dignitaries, pausing for a moment as she watched Arkaelus depart in the company of the Fae Queen.

Sighing to herself at the missed opportunity to capitalise on their hosts attention, at least for the moment but a single moment often resulted in success or failure in such matters. While her most logical choice given his nations close proximity she also avoided further discussion with Nemu for almost the same reason, at least for now at any rate. The voice of the wasteland bothered the lady of Kythianna more than she let on, though the exact reason for that escaped her. Perhaps postponing a further meeting was ill-advised?

Either way, her steady strides took her out into the open air of the courtyard where the duel was already underway with neither side having gained the upper hand. Circling around the fighting ground she glanced towards the glowing embers of the blacksmiths forge and reached out lightly with her fingers, releasing her glass to float gently to orbit her staff as she felt the warmth in the air brush across her skin. However her eyes were immediately drawn to the growing pressure around the Khaldorian general as he seemed to be building up magic. Clearly this was much more interesting than it had first appeared, though should couldn’t help but frown slightly at the un-sporting nature the fight was now taking, even if his opponent was Fae.

She nodded politely to the other spectators of the duel, her eyes lingering on the Blue Fae for a moment and smiled slightly at the one she’d noticed from earlier staring at her from the crowd.

”I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Though I suppose that also applies to your fellows as well as the duellists before us.” She grinned towards the representative of Ashkara and gestured towards the pair of Fae standing behind him as she grasped her glass once more and took a light sip.

Fiona entered the courtyard and joined Father Superior, Skandar, and Niven. Father Superior didn’t expect to see her at the Duel. She nodded politely to the spectators of the duel, her eyes lingering on the Blue Faery for a moment. Father Superior smiled at her in return as she entered. She possessed a very interesting form of Magic, Blue could tell. ”I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Though I suppose that also applies to your fellows as well as the duellists before us.” She grinned and gestured towards the group as she grasped her glass once more and took a light sip.

Father Superior bowed politely to her. ”I am Father Superior, the Blue Faery. This is Niven a young wishing start faery in training. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”



”It’s nice to meet ya! You seem quite magical~” Niven commented.

Zexen’s shield bash was a success as he managed to stun Dorian. The Khalidor Grand General dropped his sword. Zexen felt that this was the perfect time to land a critical blow. With about a yard of distance between the two, Zexen dashed forward for a swift strike. However Dorian seemed to recover considerably quickly. Zexen could feel a wealth of magic energy building up in Dorian. This made him hesitate a bit. However Dorian was already charging full speed at Zexen.

Dorian got close enough and a barrage of unusually powered punched began. Zexen took several and felt as if he’d soon lose his footing. Each punch felt like being hit with stone. Zexen raised his shield and a punch struck the shield propelling Zexen backward to the ground a few feet away.



Father Superior and Niven watched as the Battle grew intense. Father Superior was having a difficult time keeping himself from interfering. He felt as if his child was in danger, He wasn’t quite clear why he felt that way. ”This has gone far enough.” He said and stepped forward. However Niven quickly flew in front of him, stopping him from intervening.



”Father Superior you can’t help him, it’s a duel remember? They are supposed to fight it out for themselves.” He them looked back toward Zexen who seemed to be charging his sword with water magic. Niven noticed the sword of magic spell that Zexen was conjuring. ”Zexen, why aren’t you using your magic!! You’ve got loads of it I can feel it!! Use it and you’ll win!! Niven shouted to Zexen, who was knelt down on the ground while he charged the spell.

Zexen turned partially and shouted, ”You don’t understand! I can’t!! He lost his focus and left an opening for Dorian to take advantage of.

"I wanted to broker an alliance....between Khalidor and Anansai." Tenanye said. Arkaelus didn't interrupt. Alliances were really half the purpose for the summit and he felt the majority of representatives knew it. He'd like an alliance between their nations. Anansai had a large untapped market ripe for the picking and their prime location could house naval bases too.

"More over, I wanted to propose a marriage...between myself, and Your Grace....I feel that with this union would be mutually beneficial." Arkaelus' train of thought immediately and blinked for a few seconds. He honestly hadn't expected a proposal to be made. His hand nervously reached out to rub the back of his neck as he thought of how to respond to the out of the blue question.

"An alliance would be a good start." Arkaelus began uncomfortably. "As for the your...proposal, I'd like to keep the idea on hold. We only just met and I hardly know anything about your kingdom or your people and I'm guessing that goes vice versa. I'll think about it though." He told her. "Honestly I hadn't expected a proposal so soon. You didn't even buy me a drink first." Arkaelus joked.





Dorian's attacks were working out wonderfully, his opponent could hardly withstand his blows. However, he was confused. He had expected more of Zexen. After all the prince was said to have an incredible magical capabilities by merchants who've passed through Valen Alus. It was also rumored that Zexen was much older than he was and thus more experienced. Dorian would believe what he could see with his own eyes, still he started to think that a counter might come up.

”Zexen, why aren’t you using your magic!! You’ve got loads of it I can feel it!! Use it and you’ll win!! Niven shouted. Dorian knew he was holding back, must have been for something big. ”You don’t understand! I can’t!! He frowned. Those words were strange. Why couldn't he? Was Dorian not worth it? Angry he spotted an opening when Zexen became distracted and took advantage of it. He dashed forward with a powerful tackle that would knock his opponent out of the ring. Dorian wanted the duel to be over so he could get to the bottom of why Zexen was holding back.

During a moment of distraction, Zexen was tackled out of the sparring circle by Dorian. He hit the ground with a loud thud. Angrily he pounded the ground with his fist. He quickly stood up on his feet and whipped the upper half of his body toward Niven. ”How do you expect me to focus on a match when you are badgering me with questions regarding things that DO NOT concern you?!” he yelled angrily at the young Wishing Star faery. He took a few steps toward Niven in an attempt to scold the faery more. Zexen hated losing and not putting his best foot forward while making a first impression. That match did not showcase the best of his ability and he knew it.





Father Superior intercepted Zexen before he could approach Niven. He could understand why Zexen was angry but Niven was not the heart of the issue. Zexen’s phobia was. “Now that is enough. I will not allow you to exact your frustrations on Niven, or on yourself. He simply verbalized something that those of us who are magically inclined most likely felt and or wondered about.”

Zexen, having realized that he was picking fight with Niven who meant no harm, apologized. ”I apologize Niven I have been unfair to you. My magic has always been a touchy subject for me.” Zexen explained. ”Besides, I would have had it under control. I was powering up a sword of magic spell. If only I hadn’t have been distracted, I could have turned the situation around.” Zexen continued.

Father Superior gave a gentle smile before replying, ”Dear child, you are capable of much more. You are by lineage a wishing star faery. Sword of magic spells are merely the tip of the iceberg for you. I’m surprised Valen has not encouraged your studies in star faery magic.”

“My abilities are out of control. Father tried to teach me but faery magic always results in something going out of control when I am the caster. It can’t be helped.” Zexen said. He hung his head in shame of having to admit such a thing.

Blue quickly replied with a nurturing tone, ”well you will not have control over magic of any kind if you don’t believe in yourself as a spell caster. This is especially true for faery magic. Wishing star faery magic is rooted in faery dust. A star faery is required to believe in his or herself in order for their spells to work most effectively. With your current attitude towards your magic, it’s no wonder your spells have been unreliable. If you were to ever come with me to Anansai, I could train you in the use of your power”

Dorian watched as Zexen as the other fae argued about his lost. Sure Niven had interupted, but it wouldn't have mattered as charging magic into a sword wouldn't have been enough. In order to counter a caster with a spell, that spell needed to be cast quickly less the opponent could react with more magic. By the time Zexen would have been done charging, it would have been too late anyway.

My abilities are out of control. Father tried to teach me but faery magic always results in something going out of control when I am the caster. It can’t be helped.” Zexen said. The brows on Dorian's face furrowed. If the prince was a faery, that would mean that Zexen was most likely very old. Since age meant that experience would eventually follow, Dorian was confused as to why Zexen couldn't cast a spell properly. Maybe he was a special case? Then he heard Blue speak of training in Anansai, to which he had to chime in his two cents.

"Confidence without merit is hollow." He began. "If you can be taught how to cast effectively then self confidence will just be part of the territory. We meisters are confident because we are among the most powerful casters in the world. Anansai focuses on training within the time span of lifetimes, a lazy style that promotes weak and indecisive casters. Our training is short, brutal, and effective. Since your a prince of a neighboring nation, I could offer to train you myself. Immediately. You could learn to master your magic in a matter of months instead of years."

Dorian commented on the situation in a way that made Father Superior cringe. "Confidence without merit is hollow." He began. "If you can be taught how to cast effectively then self confidence will just be part of the territory. We meisters are confident because we are among the most powerful casters in the world. Anansai focuses on training within the time span of lifetimes, a lazy style that promotes weak and indecisive casters. Our training is short, brutal, and effective. Since your a prince of a neighboring nation, I could offer to train you myself. Immediately. You could learn to master your magic in a matter of months instead of years."



Father Superior almost couldn’t believe the arrogant attitude Dorian exhibited. He let out a slightly mocking chuckle. Here was a mere human berating the teaching style of one of the world’s oldest known beings renowned for his wisdom. A Human having little to no knowledge about Fae magic practices, yet alone Wishing Star Faery magic and training methodology, dared to mock one of the world’s oldest authorities on magic. Father Superior replied as he shook his head.



”Dear human child, how presumptuous you are.” he started. ”You know nothing of the magic Wishing Star Faeries wield yet alone how to train that power. I did not say that confidence was the only thing Zexen lacked. However for what he is, self-confidence, as you put it, or belief in his magic ability is imperative for proper spell casting of miracle magic or light magic. Zexen wields a form of magic very similar to my own which, might I add, is a very particular and rare form of magic. I can feel it. If he were to train under you, Dorian, he would no doubt learn to be a better spell caster than he is currently. However he would not tap into the true root of his ability and potential.” he said to Dorian.



Father Superior then turned to Zexen, “Young Fae, I caution you not to use ‘mastery’ as the foundation of your quest to improvement. A true master of a skill is one that never tires of pursuing more knowledge in that craft. Mastery, in the traditional sense of the term, brings one to the top of a summit with only two options, to stay in one place halted or to descend. I consider myself a life-long learner and student in my craft. With that mindset you are without limitation.”



Zexen looked between the two men. Father Superior brought up a valid point. Zexen was a wishing star Faery, technically. However so was his father, Valen, and he had no such luck instructing Zexen. ”My father is a Wishing Star Faery. How is it that he has had no success in training me magically and you believe that you will?” Zexen inquired of Blue.



Father Superior smiled sincerely, ”I know it would be different. I believe Valen could not train you because his magic at its roots is vastly different than your own. Yes you are both Wishing Star Faeries, but what drives the source of your individual powers differs greatly. Also, Valen prefers to use Dark Magic which as I can tell is by definition the polar opposite of your magic origin. From what I hear, Valen Alus is home to many dark magic users so you would definitely have little success training there. Unlike Valen Alus, there are many magical resources available in Anansai. You would gain an understanding of your magic rather quickly there.” He concluded.

Zexen asked somewhat meekly, “So you’re saying that it would be better if I trained with you, right?”



Father Superior placed his hand gently on Zexen’s shoulder. ”This is not a competition between Dorian’s training and my training. There is much for you to learn under Dorian’s instruction. Humans have a rather different relationship with magic than fae do. For you to get an understanding of that magic bond would be to your advantage. Fates allow it, Anansai will be well and waiting, so will I. Remember gaining control over your magic requires patience, will power, and the allowance of time.”



Zexen smiled, ”Thank you Blue. I understand.” Zexen turned to Dorian and replied, “Well Dorian, I think I have made my decision. If you will have me, I would like to train with you in Khalidor.”

Dorian grew annoyed at Blue, especially when he was reffered to as a child. An insult that he would need to repay in the future. Still he listened to the old fool ramble on about the philosophy of magic. They could agree on one thing though. Humans and fae were different went it came to using magic. In most cases, men used magic mostly for war, while for fae it seemed like a more natural part of life. In Khalidor magic was only a means of war with the only exception being healing.

Well Dorian, I think I have made my decision. If you will have me, I would like to train with you in Khalidor.” Dorian nodded in agreement and then waved over the servant who had been serving Skander drinks. "Fetch us a carriage, some ink, and a fire totem. Be snappy with it." He told the servant.

"The training will start immediately. We're going to a festival and on the way there I want to review what you know. Also, seeing as you're a basically a beginner, you will be getting a tattoo to hold certain magics. I don't care what it is." He told Zexen. Dorian hadn't been a teacher past training soldiers, but he could still teach the way that his master taught him.

Fiona smiled warmly in greeting to the Blue Fae, though she was a little irked that her words seemed to have failed to penetrate the bubble of solitude that surrounded the man to whom she’d directed her introduction. She nodded towards the younger Fae however he seemed rather out of balance and slightly cheerier than she liked in others, but that was to be expected with most Fae from what she was led to understand.

”I’ve heard of you, from old tales in the archives of Kythianna. Very interesting stories regardless of whether they ring true or not.” She replied in greeting before addressing his younger companion. ”You’ve got talent young one; I hope that your Father Superior has been encouraging you to develop it.”

Though sadly before either could respond to her words Father Superior’s attention snapped back to the duel before them and Fiona could feel him itching to intervene as ripples of energy surrounded him. She tensed a little as her eyes darted from the two Fae beside her to their companion in the ring being beaten back by the general, though before it could escalate more from his interference the younger of their number made to stop his movement. Niven then turned to cheer on his companion, shouting what he believed to be encouragement yet seemed only to agitate the combatant as he failed to echo the suggestion and cried out in protest.

Fiona could certainly sense a great deal of magical potential in both of the fighters though the Fae certainly contained a greater depth to his powers than the Khaldorian yet his lack of magical use in the dual was strange, especially when his opponent is channelling his own magic into combat with devastating effectiveness. It seemed to her that Zexen was gifted but his potential untapped and lacking control or guidance, which could become an issue if left untamed. She mused over why the Blue Fae would allow for one of his kin to languish without proper discipline, especially given the nature of their magic and their kind it puzzled her as to how Zexen was lacking in his studies. The discussion between the two Fae intrigued her as she listened about his powers becoming uncontrollable as he tried to tap into the same magic that Father Superior controlled with such ease, which suggested both uncertainty as well as a great source of magic.

As the mulled over the possible causes for the Fae’s magical impotence the meister, for she could think of no better word to describe him given his recent display of magic save perhaps a higher title, stepped forward and all but demanded the right to train Zexen. His tone caused Fiona to chuckle to herself as she refilled her glass with a much darker liquid having grown tiresome of the local wine from the summit and its lack of flavour. She had to admit it couldn’t hurt to train the youngling, even if his probably out stripped her own life by many years he still seemed far younger yet not as that of Niven. She’d probably have stepped forward to add her own voice to the debate had it not been for the soft voice beside her that finally decided to acknowledge that the world around him existed.

"Skandar." He answered simply. "Prince of Ashkara."

She turned and narrowed her eyes slightly towards the man before trying again with her failed greeting from earlier.
”You can call me Fiona. I represent my people since someone must. You clearly didn’t find much enjoyment with neither the dual nor the company of its spectators did you? Going from your silence thus far at any rate.”
She turned away slight as her focus returned to the combatants to see that Dorian was now to train the Fae to better control his abilities, a decision which surprised her given the highborn nature of the Father Superior.

”I wonder why he acquiesced so easily to the idea of his kin being trained by a mere mortal.” She muttered to herself, her arms curling round her staff almost lovingly. Giving the impression that her words had been more directed towards it than it had to the second prince of Ashkara.

”Also,” She looked over her shoulder and gave the man a warm and genuine smile ”If the entertainment is lacking why don’t you partake and improve it for us all? I'm sure an actual magical dual would be instructive at the very least.”

Amelia saw Valen and smiled. He was a friendly acquaintance in her eyes. However she noticed Severyn's hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword at his hip. Xiao Jingshen broke from the dance, standing straight with wide eyes. Amelia wasn’t quite sure why Severyn and Xiao reacted in this way to Valen. Her eyes curiously honed in on the two fae.

”My apologies for interrupting your fun. However I promise I bring news of more festivities. I was informed that there will be a masquerade festival this evening. We are formally invited to attend. I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunity to dance more there.” Valen said to the group lightheartedly.

Severyn narrowed his eyes, stepping in front of Amelia, protectively, Xiao Jingshen already safely behind him. "You address a Queen, a princess and two Princes, you bow before speaking." Severyn said, though his voice did not rise, his tone was not a pleasant one. He turned to the aforementioned group. "Your Grace, Princess, Prince, let us go." Severyn said, and he began to usher them toward the festivities.

Before they could leave Amelia turned toward Valen, ”Lord Valen won’t you join us?” She said, a hint of concern in her voice. Severyn kept Amelia and Xiao moving.


Valen managed a smile and replied. ”Your Grace, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. However I must find my son first. Please enjoy.” His smile faded as the group advanced further out of view.



The music and smell the food from the masquerade filled the atmosphere. Amelia took it all in and it was delightful. Everyone wore masks and the smell of wine, rum and other whiskey danced vividly through the air. It was almost instantly intoxicating. Amelia shook her worries regarding Severyn’s disposition toward Valen and looked about every which direction. There seemed to be something exciting happening at every angle.



Amelia saw a vender selling masks of all kinds and the sight gave her a sudden jolt of excitement. Before she knew it she was like a teenager on a first date. She sprinted a couple of steps forward and spun around while giggling. ”Masks! Oh how delightful they look. Prince Severyn, Princess Xiao, Prince Kiran, we must peruse this vendor’s wares!” She gently grabbed hold of Severyn’s hand and led him forward.




Valen wasn’t surprised at Severyn’s aversion to him. He knew that he was an outcast in Anansai. He never held much respect for the leadership of Anansai since the Summer King and the Winter Queen. As he walked toward the courtyard he thought back on a conversation he had with the Blue Faery many centuries ago before he was banished from Anansai, before the two lovers were at odds with one another.


Blue and Valen sat high up in the night’s sky, located in the cloud lands of Anansai. The clouds were a dark shade of Blue and the stars were bright and illuminated the nights sky. Anansai was beautiful in its landscape and its lights could be adored from above. The Blue Faery and Valen sat admiring the view of the land below.



”How beautiful Anansai is. Empress Tae Young has seen to it that Anansai thrives after a difficult war.” Blue said in a jolly manner as he admired the view from the clouds.

Valen smiled calmly. He kissed Blue on the cheek gently and placed an arm around his waist, pulling him close. ”Just imagine how much more Anansai would thrive with you as its benevolent and kind leader. The Blue Star should be down there guiding Anansai as a king, not assisting mortals and fae from the clouds as an Archbishop.” Valen whispered smoothly into Blue’s ear.



Blue looked Valen in the eyes as he somewhat pulled away from him. ”Why would you say something like that? Don’t speak that way. Empress Tea Young is far more of a leader than I. You’d do well to appreciate her and all she’s done to keep Anansai from caving in upon itself.” Blue replied.



Valen’s voice became firm as rebutted, ”I am not so easily impressed by the spider fae and her kin. How much wiser or fairer are they than you?! You are the fae I fell in love with. You are the fae that even mortals call upon in times of need. Not the spiders. Anansi performed but one miracle, closing the rift. You perform miracles on a daily basis for a dying world. You should be King, Emperor.” Valen protested.

Blue was mortified by the words passing his lover’s lips. Blue quickly interrupted Valen before he could continue his blasphemy. ”I WILL HEAR NOT ANOTHER SYLLABLE OF THIS!!” He shouted, forcing Valen into a shocked silence. ”I, as well as all of Anansai, am in Anansi and her kin’s debt! They fought for this land’s peace! I was selfish, I cared to protect the wishing star faeries, leaving Anansai to whatever fate befell it! I made NOT a noble decision during that time! You thank your wings that the Spider Fae is not here to witness your foolishness else they’d tear you apart.” Blue was very angry with Valen’s perspective.

Valen would not give up easily. ”If you refuse to believe in your potential like I believe in you. I will ask other Star Faeries what they think. I’m sure they will feel the same as I!”

”NOT A CHANCE!” Blue replied. ”The Star Faery Coven will hear no more utterances of this again! Do I make myself clear? Anyone under my leadership WILL show respect to the Empress.”

”BLUE!?” Valen replied as he was hurt that Blue had pulled the rank card on him. Yes Blue was Valen’s leader but he was also his lover and to Valen’s understanding that placed him above the other Star Faeries.

”That’s Father Superior to you at present.” Blue replied firmly. He did not like having to be this way but Valen gave him no choice.

Valen glared as he tried to hold together the remnants of his pride. ”Yes… Father Superior.” he replied begrudgingly.



Valen remembered that day well. It was one of those things one would never forget. Valen’s disapproval of Anansai’s leadership extended long before his exile from the realm. However he was willing to put on with Tenanye and Severyn for as long as it took if it meant winning Blue back. Even if the Empress and Prince despised Valen. Valen had reached the courtyard where Zexen stood among Father Superior, Dorian, Fiona, Skandar, and a young wishing star faery that Valen had not seen earlier. He shook off his earlier thoughts and joined the group.

”My son, how was your duel with the noble Grand General?” He asked with a smile. He placed a hand on Zexen’s shoulder. Zexen informed him of the outcome, ready to hear dissapointmet from his father in response. However Valen was easy going about it. He was glad his son gained a valuable experience and most importantly he was well. ”My child winning is a luxury we cannot always afford. However one can find far more value in a loss than a win sometimes. We should go to the masquerade. It will lift your spirits.” Valen tried not let his earlier thoughts regarding Father Superior and himself effect his present disposition. Zexen still hadn’t told his father of his plans to train in Khalidor under Dorian.

Dorian watched as Valen came down to greet his son. ”We should go to the masquerade. It will lift your spirits.” Dorian nodded towards that. "You should, Zexen, but first you should speak to your father about how long you'll be here. I'll be down at the festival, your first assignment will be to use what spells you know to find me." He told his new apprentice as he walked away.

He had walked to the stables and rode for a few minutes, he donned his mask. It was the face of the fool, one that he had worn every year. The point of the masks were to be unrecognizable and the fool was the last thing people expected a high born to play. Eventually he reached the center of Jodan where the festivities were at its height. So taking the part of the jester, Dorian searched the crowd for interesting figures to mess with.

After picking several fights and winning a purse of coin, the jester waltzed into the Smoking Ox. It was owned by a man who moved to Jodan from Whiteharbor. Usually foreigners didn't do very well with setting up shops outside of the slums, but he brought with him some of the finest mead the city had ever seen. "Round on me!" Dorian shouted, dropping the coin he had earned from his scuffles in front of the barkeeper. Then he wondered upstairs, maybe find some fun.

As Dorian stepped out in the tavern's balcony he saw a few drunkards. One had a broken nose and a torn ear, maybe an unlucky fisherman. Another had better cloth on him, colored wool, probably a lonely aristocrat. The third, like the others, was by himself. However, unlike the others he wasn't giggling uncontrollably to himself, and he had flowing locks of ebony hair. Dorian knew only one man that kept hair like that, but he was fighting a war.

"What's got you down in the dumps, friend?" He questioned the masked stranger, leaning against the railings.

"What's got you down in the dumps, friend?"

Jon smiled softly beneath his mask, the white wolf mask betraying nothing of the North Man beneath it. He recognized the voice at once, he'd recognize it anywhere. The jester mask was a unique choice for the tough and gritty general but to Jon it fit, at least here in his home where Dorian could be at ease and afford a good laugh Jon and Dorian had been friends since their youth. The North and Khalidor, being the northern most countries were bound to interact since their inceptions. Yet it was the coming of The White Walkers during The Long Night in The Age of Heroes when Khalidor and House Stark first forged their centuries long bond of brotherhood. There were a few bonds of blood here and there as the years went on due to one marriage or another. Now however the most recent event that brought Khalidor and The North together was Mances uprising and Dorians intervention. Yet as boys the two were close, Dorian reminded Jon so much of his older brother Robb, both bold and fearless, men bred for combat. Jon saw that similarity even more now that Robb was gone. Where Jon recognized his friend it appeared that he was still a mystery beneath the wolf face. That ruse would be broken shortly as he turned to the man he'd known since he was a boy, drink in hand.

"Oh don't mind me, I'm told I brood too much."

Jon could see the shift in body language as Dorian stared at him from behind the mask, his Northern accent all too evident, no doubt cementing whatever suspicions Dorian may ave already had.

"I've come here to see an old friend. A friend that I owe a great debt to, a debt I can't even begin to repay."

Jon Stark reached up and pulled the mask off, a friendly smile on his face as he offered his hand to shake Dorians.

"It's good to see you Dorian."

Hidden behind her mask, gold wings that sprouted from her face, and dripped down her chin, brushed with rose, and tied with a silver ribbon. Dae walked into the the festival, She had a cart waiting for her, but she knew she always got more coin when she was dancing then she ever did with her cards, or violin. Women liked the cards, Men enjoyed the dancing.

She was glad for the mask. No one could see the disdain she didn't bother to hide. She hated them, she hated them all. The excuse was that no one could know who or what you were, the poor and rich could dance without ever knowing but that was hardly true. You could tell by the masks, the more elaborate, the more expensive. Even Eva's beautiful dragon mask, was simple compared to the richness of most. Her own, was a twisted gift from someone she'd rather not think of now. She would have to see him tonight. His name slithered on her tongue as she thought of him. He wanted her to remember, he wanted her to be force to call on him one day so she could owe him a greater debt. She'll cut her tongue off before she let that happened.

"Opmf!" A small pale skinned girl with unbelievable long hair ran right into her. Her mask was butterfly wings, like hers only with more lace and jewels. She was noble. "Oh, I'm sorry." She said with a bow and Dae blinked. Nobles don't bow, but it was clear by her accent she was one of the foreign nobles that had arrived.

"Xiao Jingshen, slow down." said a tall man with a black feathered mask with a long beak, and thin chin approached them. "Severyn, you're breaking the rules~! Oops." The girl, Xiao Jingshen said to the man, Severyn as he approached with another woman with an equally elaborate mask.

"Forgive us, We are new here and my young friend gets a little excited." He explained, while the little one smiled, and she nodded, but said nothing. They both looked at her and her legs began to warm.

They were faeries, and they sensed her. She turned and quickly made her way through the crowd, leaving them looking to themselves with confusion.

Dae stopped, just under balcony that over looked the plaza. She sighed. They're were Faeries here. Faeries. He could be here, he could be any one of these masks people. She felt eyes on her suddenly, and looked up, finding a man with a white wolf mask looking down at her. He wasn't from here, one he took the mask off and a Khalidorain would never, so he was from of of the foreign lands, North she would figure by the pale skin, midnight dark hair, equally dark guarded eyes. She knew that look, even from here. He knew pain, just as she knew pain.

"Oh don't mind me, I'm told I brood too much." Dorian flashed a grin. Girly locks? Moody and northern? It was Jon. No other northerner would go as a mysterious loner at a festival except him. "I've come here to see an old friend. A friend that I owe a great debt to, a debt I can't even begin to repay....It's good to see you Dorian."

Dorian slapped Jon's hand away and embraced him in a strong hug. "It's been a long time!" He happily exclaimed as he let go. Honestly he was set back. He expected a letter from Ned before they would arrive, but surprises were welcomed. "I take it this means you won? Did you kill Mance? By Khali I wish I could see his head roll. He rebels against the Starks using wildlings, of all people!? Did you know some crossed the border and attacked our forts? Guess they thought they were yours. Captured one named Styr, savage tried biting me while we fought. I can send him to you if you'd like." Dorian took a breath. He hadn't meant to bombard Jon with so many questions, it was just that he hadn't seen him in so long. Jon was taller and more filled out, even the beard was fuller.

"So where's the rest of the brood?" He asked looking around. "I bet Robb wreaks of mead by now! Is Sansa here?! I have a dress that I got from a campaign in the colonies for her, has the feathers of peacock." Then he saw the look in Jon's eyes, something was wrong. "Jon...Where are the others?"

Dorian hugged him, a great bear hug, truly the similarity between him and Robb was uncanny. He set Jon down with a laugh as he seemed to radiate excitment. He bombarded Jon with questions and stories of how the war reached Khalidors borders which suprised him. Though it wasn't long before Dorians words turned to talk of his family, of Robb and Sansa and the rest. Jon couldn't hide his grief, he couldn't if he wanted to. He was miserable all the time, it was only brief instances of levity that broke up the sorrow. The reunion with Dorian proved a more brief respite than he could have hoped. The memories his words brought back were too painful to ignore.

The morning was cold the day of the funeral. Winterfell was in mourning. The war was over and Mance Rayder had been captured, due to be executed on the morrow. There was one thing left to do before he was dealt with and this horrible time was put behind the people of The North, the burial for the royal family. The North had no kings before House Stark, should they had lost them the land would forever be without a pivitol piece of their history. Due to Mance Rayder and his wildlings The North had lost it's King, it's queen, three princes and two princesses. To Jon they were mother and father, brothers and sisters. Each harder than the last.

Jon walked the length of each tomb in the crypts of Winterfell, a tomb had been carved for all of them with a statue to match. Jon looked on the granite visage of his father, stern and kingly Eddard Stark held the families ancestral sword ice in his hand as he looked out onto a world in which he no longer drew breath. Next was his mother Catelyn Tully-Stark, for her the trout of House Tully had been carved into the stone along side the dire wolfof House Stark. Sansa's had taken the longest to carve, the stone worker had told Jon it was difficult to capture such beauty. The boys Bran and Rickon had been buried together, inseperable in life it seemed wrong to break them apart in death. The last two proved the hardest to bear. Robb and Clara, he and sisters bodies were never recovered. He knew they had been drowned, somewhere off the coast of White Harbor but no sign of them had ever washed ashore. It pained Jon to bury two empty caskets. Jon placed his hand on the stone hand of his half sister, and for the first time he wept, allowing himself to feel all of it.

"Jon...Where are the others?"

Dorians voice snapped him out of the painful memory. Jon blinked and took a labored grunting breath to clear the emotion from his throat.

"They're gone..."

Dorian seemed shocked by the news.

"Only me and Arya are left."

Jon added mercifully before he ran his hand through his coal black hair.

"Mance knew he'd never hold The North while a Stark yet lived. His plan was simple and brutal. Kill every Stark he could find. He almost succeeded too. If it wasn't for you and the men you sent his forces would have got Arya. They helped turn the tide, I had your people by my side when I finally broke Mances final assualt and captured him. I took his head less than a week ago, just before I left to come here."

A few tears shed from Dorian's eyes when Jon revealed that there were only two Starks left. The fact that his forces couldn't do more to save them made him angry. Were they only good for protecting Arya in a castle? He took a deep breath and cleared his eyes. He should say something at least, something that he would have said when he was bishop of the college.

"They were good people Jon. Their death is tragic, but don't fret about it. Death is not an end. You will see them again, that I assure you. Now come! I'm sure your parents don't want their son to sulk, especially if he's king." He said, trying to cheer Jon up. He indeed knew the pain of loss. His father had died when he was a babe and was raised by his uncle. When he died Dorian looked up to Hakvus for advise, as the man was everything he was not. Yet he taken from the world too soon, before he could truly make a difference.

"How about we go down and enjoy the festivities? I think I saw a bear wrestling contest on my way here." He suggested, downing his mug of mead. He looked over the railing and yelled out to a girl underneath them. "Hey you! Yes you, with the wings! Where's the bear!"

"Hey you! Yes you, with the wings! Where's the bear!" Dorian Urusal looked down at her, breaking her thoughts from the man he'd been standing with. She frowned behind her mask, shrugging before she looked around, listening for the growl of a bear, it was loud enough over the music. She found the sound to her left and pointed. "That way." She said, her accent giving her away as foreign, she was again, grateful for the mask.

It was then that Eva rushed up to her, grabbing her arm. " There you are, Come on, They are waiting for you." She said, tugging her toward where the other dancers were. "Alright, alright." She said but not before looking up at the dark haired man once more.

. "I learned how to play when I was a boy because my father was consistent with the idea that all his sons had to have a connection to the arts in someway. Although I've never quite cared for the traditional use, my countrymen love the fiddle." Arkaelus said and picked up the instrument. Tenanye smiled behind her wooden mask as he began to play. She clapped along with the music. Being Fae, she couldn't help the sound of music, nor the talent behind it. Sure, they could make music themselves but when humans did it, and did it well, it was a magic foreign to them.

When he finished, Tenanye laughed and clapped. "Well Done, Your Grace." She said, smiling. "You have quite the talent." She said. "You should be proud." She said, genuinely pleased with this.

"Mei mei!" Tenanye turned to see her sister, in a lovely butterfly mask rushing up to her. "Oh, There you are." She said, hugging her little sister. "There's a bear here, it's going to fight, I want to see it, can we see it?" She asked, excitedly. " Sure, If that's alright with you all." She asked, it was then she noticed Severyn's holding on to the hand of what seemed to be Queen Amelia. She was glad for it. Severyn looked to Amelia. "I don't mind, What of you, Your Grace, we can do something else if you like?" He asked her, placing a hand atop of hers.

Dorian was a good man, a good friend. Jon knew he only meant well, hoping to busy Jon with drink and food and women and in so doing take his mind of his hurt. Yet in this way Jon and Dorian were quite different. Jon wasn't the man to drink his sorrows away, or lose himself in women. Jon had never been that man. When trouble found Jon Stark he sought solitude and the quite of a forest clearing. He enjoyed a good hunt, the company of Ghost and not many other people. Clara sometimes could reach him, when he pulled away, Sansa could as well, but no one was as skilled at reaching Jon Stark when he turned inward like his father. Most likely because in this way Eddard Stark was like none of his children more. Eddard was called the Quiet Wolf in his youth, some even thought him a mute. Not until his older brother Brandons death did he start speaking up for himself and become the king every grew to know.

Dorian called out to one of the party goes, asking about a bear. Jon turned and lost himself for a moment. A woman off in the distance with a purple mask that looked as if it were made of butterfly wings. Her dress was the deepest blue, reminding Jon of mountain ice. Yet her skin was warm and brown, off setting the frigid color of her clothes. Past her mask Jon could see a head of curls the color of chestnuts. She spoked and Jon wondered where her accent was from, he'd never heard an accent quite like it. He wasn't sure why but he found himself unable to break his gaze. It wasn't until another woman rushed over and pulled her away did he finally lose sight of her. As she left she turned back once, their eyes meeting, hers behind a mask and his unobscured.

Dorian led Jon back inside where the festivities were in full swing, his mind drifting back to the woman in the mask. As Dorian led him through the corwd he figured he would at least attempt to have a good time, even if it was just for Dorians sake.

"So, you're really going to fight a bear? Wonder who I should put money on, you or the bear?"