Brabil listened intently, his ever-present smile switched out for a sympathetic frown. Once Decian had told his tale, he gently rubbed the soldier’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear your nights have been spent like this… Though it is strange how it’s always the same… Makes me wonder if…” He chewed on his bottom lip, in thought, before he stood. “Ah, anyway… I believe breakfast will be prepared by now.” He started walking toward the door, but Decian followed him up.

“Wait, Brabil. You said you would tell me whose name I said.” Decian pleaded. Brabil looked back to him and shook his head softly.

“I truly think it’s better if I don’t.” He said softly.

“Is… Is it someone I know?” Decian frowned.

Brabil shook his head again and forced a little smile. “No… No one you know.” Decian let out a little sigh of relief, and even chanced a small smile. See? He told himself, it isn’t Isgellian. “Come on, Decian. Let’s go get some food. I can tell you what we can and can’t have there.” Brabil smiled widely back at Decian, walking toward the door.

“Are you speaking from experience?” Decian asked as he followed his king.

“No, but when I was chosen to be the next ruler, King Tomis brought me to a meeting, and pointed out what we can’t eat… He was speaking from experience.” Decian and Brabil both shuddered at the same time. “I can’t imagine what that would be like…” He frowned.

“I can.” Decian sighed. “Second year of training. I was out for three days.”

“I remember…” Brabil said quietly as they walked. “It was Endric, wasn’t it? Who snuck the meat onto your plate?”

Decian just nodded and looked to the side. “Someone’s coming…” He murmured just as they reached an intersection in the halls. The dwarf he had sat next to at dinner the previous evening was reaching it at the same time, and he gave him a polite smile.

“Hey!” The dwarf grinned at them. His short brown hair, which had been spiked up at dinner, hung mostly flat across his forehead.

“Hello. I’m not sure I got your name last night.” Brabil smiled warmly to him.

“Oh! It’s uh... Jedd!” He stammered and struggled to keep up with the nocten on his short legs. “Woah. Those’re some fancy shoes.” He said, looking to the white platform boots Brabil wore.

“Thank you!” Brabil smiled widely at that. “I like being tall~”

Jedd chuckled breathlessly. “Yer tall without ‘em, too.” He stared up, way up, at Decian. “Yer not even wearin’ tall boots… And look at ya! I-I’ve never seen people so tall!”

Decian looked down to Jedd, who came up to Decian’s waist, and smiled. “I take it you haven’t met a nocten before?”

“Or a satyr, or a elf!” Jedd nodded. “Not sure I like ‘em elves, though… Def’nitely not that prince one.”

Decian laughed softly. “No, I’m not so fond, either…” He said. He didn’t catch the pitying look Brabil sent his way.

“I didn’t think ya’d have those fangs there.” Jedd said, still staring up at Decian. “I’ven’t heard much about nocten… Don’t think no one has. Bet yer fangs make it real easy to chew yer meat huh?”

Brabil shook his head. “We don’t eat meat.”

“What?!” Jedd gasped, his brown eyes going wide. “Th-Then what’re they for?”

“Blood.” The king shrugged and pushed open the doors to the dining hall. Jedd went quiet, the colour draining from his face.

“Oh.” He swallowed thickly as they all made their way to chairs. Already seated at the table was the smaller satyr, who had his head low as he ate slowly, and the other human king and soldier whose names Decian couldn’t remember. Jedd went over to sit next to the satyr, after Brabil and Decian had sat down a little way away.

“Oh,” Brabil giggled, “I think we scared them away~” He looked over to Jedd, whose eyes were still wide.

“What? But why?” Decian frowned softly and looked over, too. “Did they really not know that we drink blood?”

“Most people don’t… It’s not like we interact with other races much outside of meetings.” Brabil shrugged.

“But still, they look… Scared, almost.” Decian stared over at Jedd. “And they’re the ones who actually eat meat. They kill their animals.” He frowned a little deeper.

Brabil patted Decian’s shoulder and sighed softly. “It’s alright, Decian. I think if you talk with the other races more, you’ll find that many of our ways are strange to them. And many of theirs will be strange to us.” Brabil picked up the fork that sat next to his empty plate. “For example, Feathers.” He held it out to Decian. Decian took the gold utensil in his hand and looked at it. He hadn’t last night, or else he would have noticed that the handle was carved in the shape of a feather.

“What…?” Decian mumbled to himself and looked at his own cutlery. All the handles were feathers, and there were even golden feathers painted on the edges of the plates.

“Feathers don’t mean the same things to elves as they do to us… Even those who are descended from the same race as we are have very different customs.” Brabil explained and looked over the table at the various dishes of food that were set along the length of it.

“Huh… How interesting…” Decian murmured softly as Brabil started serving their plates with food that wouldn’t make them violently ill, avoiding the bacon, and eggs, and that weird dish Brabil had never learned the name of, just knew that if he ate it he would be bed-ridden.

Decian didn’t talk much over breakfast, just ate his food in peace. There were still a few hours to kill before the meeting, so he had a servant show him the way out of the palace, to the gardens. He wandered there for a while, looking for somewhere quiet where he might read.

He hadn’t expected the gardens to be so lovely. Back home, no one really had them. No one had the space, after all. Some kept a couple flowers in a pot in their homes, but nothing like the elves’. Just stepping outside, under the sun, and seeing the neat cobbled paths bordered with hundreds of multicoloured, beautiful flowers made him feel… serene. The flora outside of the Deep Wood was so different. So much… Brighter, somehow, even though they didn't glow in the dark like most back home did. There was more variety in the shapes and sizes, and so much more green. A gentle breeze blew softly toward him, carrying the soft scent of the flowers with it, and for a moment Decian stood there, just past the door, and took it all in. Sure, his acclimation to the Deep Wood meant that everything was headache-inducingly bright, but in that way, it was all the more mesmerising.

Decian began to wander slowly down the paths, past all the flowers, past trees with occupied benches underneath, ignoring the looks of disgust sent to him by the elves he passed. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been wandering when he came to the edge of the gardens. There was an open field of bright green grass, with a small stream cutting right across it. Decian would have turned back, gone back to the flowers and all the life, but something called him onward. There was a tree, across the field, right on the edge of the stream. Its branches hung down, nearly brushing the ground. Decian had never seen a willow tree before, and certainly didn’t know the name for it, but he was intrigued. Surely, behind those branches would be a perfect little hiding spot from the world. The tree would cast shade, too… He suddenly, desperately wanted shade.

However, as he came closer to the tree, it became clear that he was not the only one who had thought to hide away there. He could begin to hear a faint humming coming from behind the branches, as if someone were singing. That should have sent him away, he realised, to find his own spot, but the singing was so lovely. He didn’t recognise the song, and it drew him closer and closer. He stood just outside the wall of branches and listened. The man’s voice was sweet as it quietly sang, ‘… with me… Under the obsidian sky. Light the night the way you lift my heart…’ Decian couldn’t help the soft smile that curved his lips. He’d never heard elven music before. He wondered who was singing such a sweet love song and couldn’t help but chance pushing some branches aside. He crept through, finding himself in a surprisingly large open area beneath the leaves. He could see the man’s shoulder, and some of his hair. His shoulder was bare and covered in freckles. His hair was red. Ever curious, Decian crept closer, until he was to the side of the elf.

Prince Isgellian was sitting cross-legged against the trunk of the tree, with a cloth laid out in front of him. On it were many different dried flowers and herbs that Decian couldn’t recognise. But he did recognise the act. He’d seen Deme mixing teas so many times, after all. Isgellian was smiling, singing quietly to himself while he mixed the herbs together. His shirt was white, hung from a gold collar around his neck, and the glamour was nowhere to be seen. The prince looked no different, save the honest smile curving his lips, and the… Oh. He had dark circles under his eyes, to rival Decian’s. He seemed… Paler. Then Decian noticed the bruising on his upper arm. It looked new, and dark. Probably from training… Decian told himself, just as he realised he’d been standing there too long. He took a step back to take his leave, but a branch snapped under his foot and he froze.

The elven prince startled, dropping the herbs that were in his hand as his head snapped up to look at Decian with wide eyes. His glamour flickered back as if automatically, shimmering over his face and arm. “What are you doing here?” He asked, sneering. His eyes narrowed, and every trace of that sweet, honest smile was gone from his face.

“I was looking for a quiet place to read… I’m sorry for intruding.” Decian said, forcing his voice to stay polite.

“Yes, well this place has been claimed. Go find somewhere else!” Isgellian snapped, scowling. Decian scowled, ready to return the prince’s hostility, when it was as if a sudden realisation made Isgellian regret his words. “I-I mean…” He looked down. The words came out as if he had trouble forcing them from his throat, “I would… prefer if you… found s-some place else… sir.” It seemed as though that last word made the prince want to gag. Decian glanced around them, seeing no one else. They were completely alone, so why…? The Prince hadn’t even attempted to respect his guests the previous night, when there was a crowd. Strange… Decian thought.

“Well, I… Didn’t see you were here until you heard me. I was already planning on finding elsewhere…” Decian said slowly, confused by the elf’s forced manners.

“Good… T-Thank you.” The elf looked away and scowled.

Without another word, Decian took his leave. Well that was… uncomfortable…