The Princes

Torta takes a moment and blinks then wipes his eyes with his hand as if trying to remove sleep from it as he stands before a grand forest with the most exquisite trees and animals dancing about. As the young elf sighs and shakes his head, he takes a step forward and the almost mirage like image fades to a bustling camp with the raucous sound of weapons being prepared by the elven smiths and warriors practicing their sword play with some of the fae servants and slaves. One in particular, a strong looking fae man with a dull sword and wooden shield stood before a shirtless elf who stood a good head taller with a muscle bound form that was uncommon for the elven folk and a shocking set of red locks that framed his battle scared face. The elf swung with one of his two swords upon the fae and as it connected with the fae’s shield, splintering a corner of the wood, the elf almost seemed to float around the fae and take his other blade close enough to the fae man’s throat but stopped before contact.

“Chantlian!” Torta shouted with a twinge of rage, “Don’t cut so close to the fae! You know they can’t handle violence! I taught you better!”

The elf, Chantlian, bowed his head towards Torta and muttered, “I am sorry, Father. It won’t happen again.”

As Chantlian said that, Torta walked up to the shirtless elf and admired the new tattoo on his chest. “How is the new mark holding? The magic still running through you? I know we cut it close when we did the ritual. If we must than we can have the camp priest do it again if need be-”

“Father.” Chantlian almost shouted, attempting to stop his Father from fretting so profusely, “I am fine, the mark holds well. Find Uncle, he seems angry again. The shadows grow darker around him, Father.”

Torta sighs a long moment before uttering, “Damn it all, he’s gonna oust us before we can even cross the bridge. I was barely able to get Heimdall to let us cross last time, if he even begins to suspect Tylineus is turning to our cousins then our hopes will be dashed before we can even set foot on the same isles as them.”

Chantlian placed his hand on his Father’s shoulder though the two look to be more like brothers with how young they looked. Though Torta by now was well over a thousand years by human standards, Chantlian was only a few hundred, “You have grown much, my son. How is my granddaughter?”

Chantlian laughs and smiles for the first time since Torta has arrived, “Talyna is well, Father. Mother is watching her while Lyna is gathering more herbs. You should talk to Mother, you know.”

Torta begins to look about frantically, “She isn’t nearby right? I still need to speak to my brother before I can begin to-”

“Torta!” Came a cry from behind Torta as he cringes and closes his eyes. He takes a very deep breath and sighs in frustration as he opens them again to find his tent in the middle of camp and sitting before him is his wife. One of the most beautiful elves in not just Alfheim but even amongst the elven folk of Midgard, she was the daughter of one of the greatest sorcerers and sorceress’ in Alfheim but bore her own power with pride. “Why am I hearing about a harem?”

Torta laughs a bit though it does nothing to hide the fear he holds, “It is nothing, my dear. Merely jokes I assure you, my love.” He begins to kneel in front of her and takes her hand to kiss her young skin but she yanks her hand away and slaps him with enough force to turn his head halfway.

“Enough lies, firefly! Tell me what is going on!” Torta’s wife yells, “First I hear of some harem from the other women, then I hear we are to make another excursion into Midgard when you swore we were finished there for good after almost dying by some wolf! When does this end, Torta! When I have to tell your Father you are dead in Midgard with no way to return and be brought back? Or when a human finally figures out how to strip you of everything and make you a slave!”

Torta rolls his eyes, “I told you, the harem is a lie and I told you I would swear to try and make our last excursion be the last. You know I can’t control what Tylineus does or what he wants to do!”

“You are the face of this ridiculous tribe! You call the shots in the end, not your brother!”

“That isn’t true and you know it! I’m the public figure head because everyone knows, not a single elf would willingly put their name with my brother after what happened.”

“Oh? You mean when your brother tried to send you into Svartalfheim? When he tried to have you enslaved by the duergar? Or how about when he convinced you to go with him into Midgard and start stealing from the humans and kill off as many as you two could as you went which how did that go again?”

“That is none of your concern, Vilentia.”

“You can never admit when you’re wrong, even when it’s so blaringly obvious it is. You just can’t take responsibility for yourself or even your brother.”

“I am not his fucking keeper! He chose the path he did! That’s not my fault!”

“Of course it is! You let him walk this path and kill the people he did! He is worse because you let him! You know he’d stop the minute you said!”

“I did try! All it did was make him angrier at me! I can’t lose him, Vi! Not again.” Torta finally fell back into a random seat and placed his head in his hands as he began to have shaky breaths that seemed to rattle his very soul. After a few moments, his wife placed her hand on his shoulder but almost as if in a flash Torta stopped shaking and his composure returned in an instant as if he’d never lost it in the first place. “I am fine, Vilentia. I just have a lot on my mind.”

Vilentia shook her head, making her red-gold hair almost dance in the fire light that hung from the roof of the tent, “My love, when does this end?”

Torta placed a hand on his face as he uttered, “I hope this to be the final battle. He swore it would be, all we would need is there.”

Vilentia took his hand and gave it a small kiss than placed it on her face, “My love, you know what we need is here. It’s never been in Midgard.”

Torta began to caress his first love’s face and say, “Tylineus believes our future to be there so I must go with him as his brother, I can’t abandon him.”

Vilentia sighed, a long one that showed all of her hopes have died finally, “Then this time, I cannot follow you any longer.” She quickly stood up and looked down at her first love and a single tear fell from her crystal clear blue eyes. In a moment the young elf Torta saw in the meadows was there, a chance to enrapture her again but as quickly as he saw it then the girl was gone and who stood before him was a shadow of that girl. Almost like seeing the widow before her husbands death when she knows he will never return and she can only cry into her pillow at night before the news came.

“What do you mean, my love.” Torta shot up and tried to grab Vilentia’s hand, “Please don’t leave me.”

“You left me hundreds of years ago when you followed your brother,” Vi said as she turned from Torta, “I hereby divorce you. Our vows no longer bind us, our love now broken. I set you free to die as you wish.”

And as if the fire flickered in time, she was gone in a flash, usually when she blinked away she would leave behind some marvelous display but now only silence and darkness seemed to creep around Torta. The elf prince, stunned at his wife’s revelation or rather denouncement, simply sat back in his chair and stared at where she was but a moment ago. As he sat and stared at the blank wall of the tent, a flourish came from behind him and a hand, much like his own, landed upon his shoulder. “Brother? Why are you still here? We were meant to speak hours ago.”

“Vilentia is gone, brother.”

Tylineus’ eyes went wide as he realized something and a faint grin played across his face, “I am so sorry, my brother. She did not deserve you or your power or your station! She was a lowly sorcerer’s daughter. She brought nothing to our house but trickery and in-fighting.”

Torta stood and turned to walk out of the tent, “She was the best part of me. What is the plan, brother.”

Tylineus chuckled, “We will take the riches of wolves, my brother. We will take from them what they have taken from all of humanity.”

Torta slowly turned to his brother in a moment of both rage and concern, “What do you mean, brother? We have taken our fair share, we are no heroes as you’ve so eloquently put it last when I questioned you for killing all those humans before we sold them.”

“We are no heroes, my brother. We deserve everything the worlds has to offer even the backwater world of Midgard is our jewel to take as we please or would you rather I call it the dirty whore you do so love to play with. By the way, whatever happened to that young thing? She seemed to have disappeared after your passionate love-making, almost like they do when I play with them.”

Torta stared daggers into Tylineus as he walks up to him and stares him down, the two showing their similarities as anyone could tell they were brother albeit for Torta’s dark hair and Tylineus’ blonde, “This is the final journey, brother. Promise me!”

Torta thrust his hand toward Tylineus as he began to grow wrathful but quickly hid it from his brother, “Of course, Torta. This is the final journey to Midgard for both of us. I promise.” As Tylineus shook his brother’s hand to cement his promise, a wicked grin crossed his face as he pulled his brother into a hug to hide his grin.

“Good. Thank you, brother. I know we’ve been through a lot together but I can’t do this anymore. We must return to our duties and make Father proud.”

Tylineus patted his brother’s back as he uttered, “Do not worry my dear brother. This will be our final journey as I’ve said. I’ll make sure to end our expeditions on a good note and Midgard will be our last destination but you must promise me one thing.”

Torta grew confused, “What brother?”

“You mustn’t retreat if the tides change as I never did. You must stand your ground even if you die because you will lead us now.”

“Really?” Torta was surprised by this, Tylineus always sought the glory for his tactics and victories. Its very unusual to let Torta take command.

“Of course, brother. You must show everyone who you truly are without me to steal your glory.” Tylineus grinned again and thrust his hand out.

Torta gave pause and thought for a moment but shrugged, his brother would never harm him or put him in danger again after his oath. “Alright, Tylineus. I promise to stand my ground even if death is certain.”

Tylineus grinned a wide grin of malice but to dear Torta, it was just his brother, “Fantastic! Now get out there and rally the troops! We have an early start but you should get some drink and merriment in before we ship out again!”

“What a marvelous idea, brother! Are you joining me?”

“Not yet, brother. I have one more matter to attend to before I join the rest.”

“Alright, brother. Get some rest to, even you need rest from the darkness.” As Torta turned from his brother to join the other warriors to celebrate, a frown grew on Tylineus’ face as a familiar shadow seemed to grow from behind him. One with fire red hair and the same wicked grin of mischief and malice, “Has all been set in motion?”

Tylineus nodded, not turning toward the shadow, “Yes, everything is going to plan. The wolves have been warned correct?”

The shadow grinned as his form changed to that of a curious one-eyed man, “Of course, my friend! They know who to expect and what to do.”

Tylineus turned towards the shadow and gave a glance, “You should really stop that, it is unnerving to see him here even if it is a trick.”

The red shadow chuckled, “You’re no fun.” he brings his long, skinny arm across the elf prince’s shoulder, “Now let us have our fun before we seal your brother’s fate.” Then a laugh like bells wrung through the air as the two began their wicked deeds in the dark once more as Torta basked in the light of the flames with his son, friends, and brothers-in-arms. Not knowing this would be the last night he would have peace and the last night he would think his brother cared for him as much as he cared for him.