Legends of Belariath

Velthorian

“You wanted to speak Velthorian?” She spoke in beautiful voice; the melodic flow in which she formed her words was complimented by a natural softness. It was one of the first things that had caught his attention when they met so many winters past.

Vel smiled faintly. She was the only one other than Cirus that he had bothered to tell the entirety of his first name. It did not hold any value that might mean the life or death of any particular person should it leak out to the public, but for him it had significance, a reminder of his past. “I did, and do” he replied, his tone quiet and firm. He focused his gaze upon Sinreth some odd thousand feet below the ledge, silently taking in the illuminating lights.

Demora’s eyes never left him, “What is it Vel? Is something wrong?” He seemed troubled tonight, why? Her dark brows furrowed in concern, a delicate, slender hand coming to rest upon his shoulder.

“The tension grows, can you feel it?” Vel shifted his gaze up from the flickering lights below, staring up into the empty darkness of the night

She paused, uncertainty flashing across her eyes. Demora quickly averted her gaze to the ground, her fingers slipping along his shoulder slightly “I… You mean the Cabal? Vel?”

He nodded slowly, “right…”

“Yes, of course Vel, I feel it. We all feel it… I…” she trails off for a moment, gathering her thoughts, “I wish it would all end, that everything can be-“ The sudden movement of his hand snapping up, two fingers raised towards the sky stopped her short. Her eyes rose slowly to look at him, confusion evident within.

Vel turned to face her, his eyes moving down and locking onto her own with a hardened stare. “Is that why you did it?” No emotion was attached to those spoken words; it was simple, and direct.

“W-what?” Her eyes widened. Fear, uncertainty and shock suddenly seemed to mix in with the confusion in a chaotic torrent expressed emotion. “Wh… What are you talking about?” The hand resting upon his shoulder trembled, quickly recoiling to her chest.

“Is that why you betrayed Cirus? Betrayed me?” Velthorian asked quietly, his voice hardening with each word, “I do not have time for games Demora.” His eyes remained unflinching in their resolute stare as he continued, “You have been passing information to him, information that almost successfully sealed Cirus’s fate tonight, why?”

Demora was now shaking visibly, each striking statement in Velthorian’s questioning forcing her to wince and cringe. The calm but deadly tone in which he spoke made it worse than if he had been shouting. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She never wanted Cirus to die; he didn’t understand at all, and she didn’t know how to explain, let alone how or where to start. She stammered, “I-Vel, no it’s not like that, I-I was trying to help. I was-“

Vel’s eyes flared as if someone threw a skin of oil onto a burning flame, a harsh, loud whisper lashing out “To help?!” His hand shot out and grabbed Demora by the collar of her tunic. Demora yelped as he pulled her harshly against his chest, his eyes boring into her, “Help who exactly?! You almost had him killed Demora. Cirus could have been killed; he should be dead right now because of you!” The grip on her clothing tightened and his voice dropped to a deadly calm, “You have betrayed him, betrayed me.”

“No… no!” She shook her head desperately, “Vel! Vel I did it for you!” Tears gathered at her eyes, spilling out and trickling down her cheek. “He-... he said he would kill you if I didn’t help him, he sai-“ her words were cut off by a stifled sob, unable to hold back the emotions of pain and hurt. The man whom she loved with all her heart, her soul, was berating her. He was scolding her as if she herself had attempted to drive a dagger into his back, when all she wanted, was for him not to be hurt. “Vel… I just wanted to keep you safe… I didn’t want to lose you…” she paused, looking at him. Her eyes glistened and her cheeks were stained with the trail of tears. Demora looked at him, unmoving, seeking some reaction, Something to show that he still loved her, that everything would be alright.

The seconds passed; the hardened calm of his dark brown eyes locked with the desperate hope of her lighter shades. Conflicting thoughts and burning emotions raged behind that stoic facade, threatening to break through his emotionless wall and reveal themselves to Demora’s searching eyes. Vel squeezed them shut, his brows furrowed in discontent.

“Vel?” Her voice was soft and tinged with uncertainty. Her eyes darted along his face, attempting to make sense of his actions, to understand. “Vel is-“

“Shh…” He interrupted with a soft whisper, his free hand moving up and placing a finger across her lips. For the next few moments neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. It was if they had become statues silhouetted against the night sky. Suddenly, she felt the unrelenting grip upon the collar of her tunic release, the hand sliding up to the back of her head, pulling her into Vel’s waiting lips.

“Mmh!” Demora uttered a light cry of surprise, hesitating as firm lips pressed and touched against the softness of her own. Confusion flashed across her features, her own lips unmoving as she attempted to recover her senses from the sudden shock. But then, against the persistent rush of emotions pressing against her, seeking entrance into her body and soul, she gave in. Her eyes closed; her lips parting slightly as they allowed the burning passion to flow through. Her knees gave slightly from the sudden flood that tore into her. Catching herself she pushed back against him, returning the passion, the emotion and the burning desire within.

Each brush and touch of his lips read like an open book of his love, his care, his desire and his want of her. His hands moved down and encircled her wrists, pulling her slender body against him as they lost themselves in that kiss.

Slowly, reluctantly their lips separated. Vel’s grip loosened and his hands slid from her wrists to rest at his sides. She looked up at him, her eyes soft and content. Smiling gently Demora reached up and wrapped her arms around Velthorian’s neck, her head coming to a rest against his chest. She felt something warm and slick upon his skin. Tilting her head back Demora looked up. Vel’s neck was completely drenched in blood. She cried out in shock and her hands pulled back, her eyes wide with horror.

“Vel!” Demora forced herself from the paralysis of shock. Her hands shot forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, ready to support him if he collapsed. “Vel what happened?! Are you alright?!”

Vel watched her, the lines of his face beginning to harden. His eyes took on their usual calm and firm gaze. However, there was something else, something that could not be held back by that emotionless wall, an undeniable sadness flickering within, looking out at her.

She looked at him, uncertain, confused. He didn’t seem to be in pain, nor aware of the fact he was bleeding… Her thoughts trailed off, suddenly light-headed. She felt her pulse quickening, her breathing growing heavy. “Velthorian…?” The words came weakly, her eyes fell from a loss of strength, and then she noticed. Glistening blood was pouring from a single clean laceration on each wrist; it completely drenched the cloth upon Vel’s shoulders, the dark stain growing as it spread down his arm.

Vel watched her silently, unmoving. A faint chill spiked within his heart as her skin begin to pale. The urge to reach out and hold her, to pull her against him and comfort her was unbearable, but he did not move. It tore at his very soul to watch the weakness flowing over her, taking control of her body, but he did not move.

“Velthorian…” Despair filled her voice as she whimpered his name. Her fingers closed around his arms tightly in an effort to keep from collapsing. Demora struggled and forced her now tear-filled eyes up to her lover. She saw the hardness of his face, the calmness of his eyes, and her heart broke; a light sob escaped her lips.

Velthorian did not move.

Demora felt her grip slip and she desperately clenched her fingers, the slender digits curling into the cloth of his tunic and holding, but even that could not last. Finally, the last of her strength waned and she fell, crumpling onto the ground by his feet, the tears spilling from her fading eyes. The first victim of the purge.

Vel did not move, his gaze quietly resting upon Demora’s lifeless form. He had always loved her, and he still loved her. But this was the life they choose, and this was the path they walked. For all one’s actions, no matter the reasoning there are and always will be consequences that follow. Though she only wanted to protect him, she betrayed Cirus in the process. And that was unforgivable.

Slowly, he turned and began making his way back down to the city. He never looked back.

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