#'spirit bird told me to go to lord dirthamens lands. be back in 3 days'

[selenelavellan]

Finding You

Raised by Uthvir AU

Previous

Mana’din, Selene’s family (mentioned), and Dirthamen are @feynites

It is a short conversation with the disguised spirit.

Apparently she is being asked to Lord Dirthamens lands, though when she asks for what purpose they are particularly vague in details.

They assure her she will be gone no longer than three days.

It means three days away from her posts, but if she is being summoned, then surely her absence has already been cleared with her Lady Mana'din.

She leaves a note for her family to keep them from fretting, complete with a doodle of her sword beside her name so that they know she is not leaving unarmed.

She clasps her favorite cape to her shoulder guards, hooks her sheath to her hip, and follows the spirit through the crossroads without hesitation.

Selene has never been to Lord Dirthamens lands before. Has only been to cities under Mana'dins protections, and her one trip to Arlathan.

It is very exciting to be so far from home, she thinks.

The spirit is quiet for much of the journey. They remain a bird, flying a few feet ahead of her and opening the necessary eluvians, until they finally arrive nearest to their destination.

She is expecting a meeting hall somewhere. Perhaps someone's home, or place of business. But the spirit leads her through the gates, and into the castle of Lord Dirthamen himself.

Whoever has summoned her must be very high ranking here, she realizes.

She glances back up at the spirit; a raven, still. Nearly identical to the one she had found in the garden in Arlathan, that had been so close to her mysterious dancing partner.

She wonders....hm.

There is very little time to ponder the possibilities, before she hears the music. Low, and slow, and nearly muted through the heavy stone walls. It becomes louder and clearer as she continues behind the spirit, a grin spreading over her face as realization dawns on her and she picks up her pace, sure of her situation before the 'surprise' is revealed. Two large doors are pulled open by Lord Dirthamens sentries, revealing a man standing inside of a large ballroom. It has been decorated in a similar manner to the one they had met in, back in Arlathan, and she wonders for a moment if he has actually gone and borrowed some of the decorations for re-use. There are musicians arranged by the back wall, and her dancing partner is staring back at her through his mask. The same one he had worn that night.

I'd have brought mine if I had known, she muses internally as she steps towards him, no longer needing the spirit to show her where to go.

She can't stop her smile from spreading as she moves towards him, sweeping her cape back in a flourish as she moves into a deep bow before he might make yet another grand gesture of his own. He has had enough upper hands for the day, she thinks.

She extends one hand towards him, palm upturned.

He places his own in hers, still gloved as a palpable feeling of relief emanates from him.

“You found me,” She grins as the orchestra strikes up a new song for them.

“When I asked you if I might, you did offer permission,” He points out, following her lead as she glides them through one of the classical steps.

“Still. Sounds like an awful lot of work for a dance,” She teases as she spins him out before pulling him back towards her.

“It was a very memorable dance.”

Selene hums in agreement, moving them into a more complicated step. His own cloak billows behind him as they twirl across the dance floor, feathers fluttering across his neck and shoulders. If she had known why she were being summoned, she might've worn something more aesthetically pleasing for the occasion. Her armor is meant to cling close to her, to keep from making shadows move in the wind and giving away positions, to be silent during patrols so that her quarry won't know she is approaching. It is white and stark in contrast to the dark of his gown, the crimson of her cape a brilliant burst of color around them as he briefly changes their position to spin her himself, switching quickly back into the following role as Selene turns back to him with a laugh.

“Why did you summon me?” She finally asks as the song comes to an end, her hands resting on his waist, his own settled onto her shoulder and hip.

“I wanted to see you again,” He admits.

Selene laughs again, shaking her head fondly. “You could have come yourself, if you knew where I was. Why didn't you?”

He hesitates, and she frowns as doubt starts to rise in her gut at the silence.

Her eyes dart across his face, and she moves one of her hands up.

“May I see you without the mask?”

He hesitates again, but gives her a slow nod before she can become too uncomfortable.

Her fingers carefully tuck beneath his chin, pressing gently between the smooth material of his mask and the skin beneath. The mask falls from his face and lands in her palm. There are four slate blue eyes looking back at her nervously from dark skin that reflects the multicolored lights of the room beautifully. Selene licks her lips anxiously, not in any way off put by the extra features, but concerned about the absence of any kind of markings.

“You don't have any vallaslin,” She says. Not that he probably needs to be notified of it, surely he knows already.

“That is true,” He nods.

“...I do not suppose that is because you are so young that you haven't gained them yet?” Not that that would be a better situation. It might even be worse, really. But they are alone, in a ballroom, with a private orchestra, and he is very finely dressed. There is an obvious answer as to why he wouldn't have any markings, even if he were very very old.

...and he would indeed, she realizes, be significantly older than herself, if it's true.

“It is not,” He admits.

Selene nods slowly.

For a very long time.

Much longer than she means to.

“You're Lord Dirthamen, then.” She finally says.

“Yes.”

She nods a bit faster, now, anxiety starting to override her usual confidence.

“That's great! Congratulations,” She blurts, unsure of how she's supposed to act. She's met Mana'din on more than one occasion, but she's also been assured that the way Mana'din interacts with her people is far from the norm of most of the Evanuris. Selene has never been very good at stopping her mouth when her nerves overtake her though, and they've never overtaken her quite so suddenly before, either. Her voice begins to rise in pitch as she continues, “And you were Lord Dirthamen back in Arlathan then, too. When the spirit of Deceit was your spirit of Deceit. Which means I...called you a spy. Did I ever apologize for that? I didn't mean any offense or anything, some of my best friends are spies you know-”

“I found it very endearing,” he assures her as her voice starts to crack. “You do not have anything to fear from me.”

“Good, that's-that's great! Fantastic. Awesome, really. Not that I was afraid of you. You're not scary or anything like that-unless you want to be scary?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Good,” Selene repeats. “Because I don't think you are.”

“What do you think I am?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head and a note of curiousity.

This time it is Selene who hesitates.

“...I think you're very pretty,” She says honestly. “I think you are a very good dancer, and very romantic, and I like serving your daughter so I think you might not be so terrible, really.”

The skin around his cheeks and ears darkens, as his lips quirk up in a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Silence pervades for a moment, before the orchestra decides to break it and begins a soft tune around them.

“Would you like to dance again?” He asks. “If you are hungry, or would like to see more of my home, we could do that instead. You are my guest, during your stay here. Most everything is available to you.”

Selene glances back at the orchestra, takes a deep breath, and resolves herself. Just because she knows his name now (and what a name it turned out to be) doesn't change things. He's still the same man with the beautiful laugh she met in the garden and spoke with at the party. He seems to like the way she's been behaving around him so far, so...probably there's really not any danger here.

“I'd love another dance,” She admits, moving back to a starting position with him. “Thank you.”

–

She doesn't expect it to be comfortable.

It's surprising when it is.

When he has food carried in for them, when they discuss current events like old friends, when he lifts her off the ground during one of their dances and she makes an embarrassing squeak at the motion and he only laughs again and radiates more affection around them.

He shows her to one of his gardens, and the two decide to rest together beneath a tree that is probably older than she is, a small stream passing near them that carries all the way down to the river near the base of the mountains.

“Is your job dangerous?” he asks as his shoulder brushes against her own and he readjusts his position slightly against the tree trunk. His mask has been re-affixed to his face since they left the ballroom, but it does not seem to impede their conversation in any way.

“Not really,” Selene shrugs. “It can be, certainly, but I'm not usually sent on the more dangerous excursions. I mostly stick to a patrol around my lady Mana'dins council chambers and various locations in and around the palace. Most of my job is just shooing people away from places they shouldn't be.”

“And you enjoy it?”

Selene shifts awkwardly, eyes drifting upwards to leaves above them. “S'okay.”

His head tilts, and she glances down to see him staring back up at her. 

“You are lying.”

“It's a good job,” She asserts, because it is, and her Nanae had been very pleased when she had gotten it. “It's not, perhaps, what I would like to spend eternity doing. But it is a very honorable position that allows me the freedoms to pursue my hobbies in my off time. The land there is still trying to repair itself; we're in need of people who can do physical and applicable jobs. There is less of a need for...theoretical positions right now. But one day things will be better, and maybe if I have come up with a real, quantifiable hypothesis by then, I could present it to my lady. And perhaps if it is good enough, she will permit me to do real research on it.”

Dirthamen rumbles slightly beside her, perked up by her admissions. “Do you have a topic in mind?”

Selene flushes slightly. “Ideally? Yes. Quite a few. I have several journals filled with them, though most will only make minor changes, if any noticeable ones at all. I've dropped a few off with those who could use them; equations for magical inputs to help promote growth and necessary erosion in the soil, or to better distribute some of our limited resources. A few were even implemented, which was very gratifying! But change on a large scale takes time, no matter what. And when your basic principles are faulty...”she drifts off, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Which principles?” Dirthamen pushes.

“It would be treasonous to say,” Selene sighs. “Even to you.”

“I am very good at keeping secrets,” he notes.

Selene gives him a wry grin.

“You will almost certainly have to keep this one, if I tell it to you.”

He nods, suddenly serious as he raises a privacy barrier around them.

She rubs slightly at the back of her neck, the ends of her hair tickling her knuckles as she does. “Elvhen and spiritual sacrifices are a poor energy source,” She says quietly. “It is wasteful, and cruel. There are better options out there, if only we could be given the option to find them.”

Blue eyes blink from beneath the mask at her, as the air goes suddenly somber. “You truly believe that?”

“I do.”

“Do you have any evidence, to such a claim?”

Her nails scratch at the skin on her neck “...I do. There was a dwarven woman I met once, during a patrol. I was still young, and new, and I had never killed someone before. Nor did I wish to. So I...spoke to her, instead. The dwarves do not sacrifice people and spirits the way we do, but still their cities are powered from deep beneath the earth. They are doing it somehow, without bloodshed or shattering, which is proof in itself that there is another way. There are other sources of power, of magic. Perhaps they are even more efficient! There is so much run off from shattered spirits, it is...it is wasteful, and it leaves so many scars....”

“Oftentimes, that runoff finds its way into the dreaming,” Dirthamen explains. “New spirits can be born from it.”

“I am aware. However, many of the spirits in my home have been touched by death. Even if they do not always realize it...” she shakes her head. “The experience lingers. Even as new life sprouts, and new experiences overwrite the old, it does not make them vanish. Those spirits are more likely to succumb to corruption, sprouting from the scars left in the spaces where they pulled themselves back together.”

“They are a risk, then.”

Selenes face scrunches in distaste and tension. “No! It is still a very small percentage that corrupts. Not nearly enough to draw attention to it, unless you are looking for the pattern. There is no reason to give them such a dangerous label. It would only sow panic, and distrust. I only meant it as one possible positive outcome of solving the issue.”

Dirthamen blinks beneath the mask. “I did not mean to offend you. My apologies.”

She lets out a breath, and leans back against the tree. “I forgive you,” She says. “You promised to keep this a secret though, remember.”

He nods in agreement, and the privacy barrier falls away from them.

Selene takes a moment to allow herself to be bold,in the aftermath of her admission, and carefully places her hand over his.

“Your home is very beautiful,” She tells him, looking out over the mountain range, the expanse of soft greens beneath their feet, and the river where the two lands meet. “I can see why you wouldn't want to leave it.”

He stills for a moment, before his fingers find their way between hers, and his head leans against her shoulder.

“I am glad you enjoy it.”

–

After her admission in the garden, Dirthamen decides that Selene might enjoy seeing one of his libraries.

He is not wrong.

The sun sets and rises while they pour through the aisles together, pointing out their favorites and discussing various subjects as they arise. She is making a mental list of authors and articles to search for when she returns, even knowing this library is far larger than any near her own home.

They are debating over the merits of an old eluvian security measure when Selene lets out a long, rather loud, yawn.

“Ah, I forgot to show you to bed,” Dirthamen realizes, glancing up at the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows. “That was inconsiderate of me.”

“It's fine,” Selene says, covering her mouth as yet another yawn tries to escape. “I'm fine.”

“You should sleep,” He frowns.

“I'll sleep tonight,” She assures him.

Dirthamen seems dubious, but does not push the issue. Instead much of their day is spent doing activities that permit her to sit for long periods of time (although she will concede that some of them are necessary responsibilities of his). He shares a very large dinner with her before escorting her to his rooms for the night. His rooms.

Selene is no stranger to sex. She is very familiar with it in a theoretical, anecdotal, read-several-stories-about-it, sort of way.

She's just never quite gotten around to the act herself before.

As she walks out of his (private) baths, one of his robes pulled tightly to her body, she feels like this is something she should probably tell him.

So she clears her throat and does just that.

He blinks.

“...not even with a spirit?”

“There was a desire spirit I almost tried with once,” she admits “But we were too similar, and then time passed and I just...never got around to it.”

“But you are very popular,” He blurts.

Selene raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“The...When I was looking for you. I was told you were a 'heart-throb'. I understand that to mean you are very popular in manners such as this, yes?”

“Oh. Oh! That's-no. I've been courted a few times, and there have been a few dates, but I've never done sexual activities with a partner before.”

“Oh,” Dirthamen notes, and she's glad to see there's no judgment or disappointment at her admission, that he seems to simply be filing away this new information like any other. “We do not have to have any tonight either, if you do not want to.”

“You're not going to be upset?” she checks.

His eyebrows crease in concern as he places his mask down on a small table beside the bed. “I did not bring you here for sexual purposes. I only wished to dance, and to speak with you again. We have done both of those things, extensively. There is very little you could do to upset me, I think.”

“Good to know,” She grins, her grip on the robe relaxing slightly as she crawls into the bed beside him.

She falls asleep flat on her back, her sword within arms reach as it leans against the side of the headboard.

When she wakes, she is curled almost entirely around Lord Dirthamen. 

His back is pressed tightly to her chest, her legs tangled up with his and one arm laying over his hip, and the arm she can no longer feel because it somehow made its way beneath him is being tenderly held between his own hands.

It might be embarrassing, if it were not quite so comfortable.

Instead she nuzzles her head gently against the back of his neck, shifts to a more comfortable angle, and falls back asleep to the soft snores of Lord Dirthamen.

–

On the third day, he arranges a picnic in the garden for them. She is wearing an outfit he gifted her, made of silk and starlight and feathers, her armor safely stowed away in a new leather pack as well. Her legs are bared, and she thinks her Nanae might disapprove of the vulnerability, but it is very comfortable, and he has not shown himself to be untrustworthy.

“I had a very nice time with you,” She smiles as he finishes off a small sandwich. “Thank you for finding me.”

“You could stay, if you'd like,” He offers slowly. “I could send a messenger to your family, tell them your summons has been extended...”

Selene snorts at the mental image of some poor messenger having to tell her Nanae that their daughter is staying an unspecified amount of time longer in Dirthamens lands when they have likely already been fretting since they found her note. Probably they would return full of holes with much of their past dug up and an angry, buzzing Nanae in their full armor behind them demanding to see her and verify that she is still alive and unharmed.

“I do not think that would go over well,” She admits without further detail. 

Dirthamen does not push the matter, and she stretches and lays out in his lap instead. His fingers card carefully through the strands of her hair, and she lets her eyes close in contentment at the motion.

“I would still like to see you again,” Dirthamen muses.

“You could come visit me,” She offers.

“I cannot leave for long periods of time. In truth, I do not usually have as much free time as I have given you these last few days. I had to reschedule several tedious but necessary appointments.”

“Well, thank you for making the time for me anyways. It was very sweet.”

“I would do it again, if I could.”

“I don't doubt that,” She grins.

Deceit arrives in the late afternoon to escort her back through the crossroads, to ensure she makes it back to Mana'dins lands safely.

Selene stands, slinging her pack over her shoulder and verifying her sword at her hip and turning around to see Dirthamen one last time. The look he is giving her makes her ache; like he is missing someone who hasn't even left yet, and she will blame that, she thinks, on what she does next.

Her fingers slip beneath his mask and pull it away from his face, as she presses a kiss to the soft skin of his cheek. She watches in pride as the skin begins to flush and one of his hands darts up to touch the space.

“Come find me again sometime pretty boy,” She hums, carefully placing the mask back on and straightening. “I could always use a dance partner like you.”

He nods, his exposed throat bobbing as he swallows down his nerves. She strides off behind Deceit, a bit more sway in her hips than usual.

It was a very good trip.