A Normal Family
SO LATE BUT
Here is a Winter's Veil story; it got very long. Featuring Adrasteius and THA CREW.
quick guide:
Adrasteius: crankiest blood elf mage this side of Silvermoon
Avali: his long-suffering fiancee, a paladin; belongs to altanachan
Eulalia: happy-go-lucky night elf hunter, married to Vehiron
Vehiron: psychotic slut, reformed <3; belongs to altanachan
Aurelius: Adra's twin brother, a death knight, trying to reform
Maria: short-tempered blood elf hunter, does not have time for your nonsense; belongs to sandy_mithra
Nyx: sardonic netherdrake in disguise; maria's ma~aan (dragon)
MENTIONED:
Cian: angsty undead teen
Lilija: werewolf undead seamstress girl, ALWAYS IN TROUBLE; belongs to demonlet
Omasvara: JACKASS (blood elf warlock); belongs to jesuitfluff
Luceat: ALSO A JACKASS (blood elf priest); belongs to teaandfailure
warnings: sap.
“If by ridiculous, you mean ‘so amazing you can hardly comprehend it,’ yes,” Adra replied. He opened the cabinets in their spacious kitchen (it was, Avali had noticed, the largest room in the house, bigger even than the master bedroom) and began to pull out an array of ingredients. “Besides, we’ve had dinner parties in the past. I just wanted to do something for Winter’s Veil this year. It’s a sacred time, you know.”
“Not this again,” Avali said. “Winter’s Veil has nothing to do with the Light.”
“Everything has to do with the Light, Lady Blood Knight,” Adra said. “But admittedly, this is a different sort of tradition, and while our tauren brethren are sadly malnourished in their understanding of the divine mysteries, I can appreciate their gifts with regard to the natural balance of things.” He started to go on about blankets of snow and renewal and wintry cloaks and before Avali’s brain slid out of her ears, she cut him off,
“But we’re in Silvermoon. It never snows,” Avali said.
“Never say never,” Adra said, and Avali didn’t know which was more unsettling-his persistent calm or his apron.
“Who are you inviting, then?” she said.
He shrugged. “Everybody. If it makes you feel any better, Cian already sent back word that he won’t be here. He’s still tracking Lilija in Northrend.”
“So that just leaves everyone else,” Avali said. She was suddenly glad that she never took off her armor.
*
“You ought to check your mail a bit more often, madam,” Nyx said.
From beneath a pile of packages and letters, a slim-fingered hand emerged, quivering weakly before it flopped across the pile, useless and sad. A soft, groaned, “Shut up,” reached Nyx’s twitching ears, and he bent over the pile to excavate Maria, tossing crates of various items (bandages, packs of salted jerky, pet snacks, friendly and partially torn notes from Vehiron Goldthorn, pleading inquiries from various captains around Eversong and the Ghostlands, et cetera) aside until he saw her defiantly sheepish face.
“Look, I have things to do,” she said, as he helped her up. “I don’t have time to be dancing for coins in front of the mailbox all day.”
The box spat out another letter just as she finished speaking. Its envelope struck her soundly in the face, and she growled as she clapped a hand over it. Only Adrasteius enchanted his letters to physically attack their recipients. He called it ‘insurance.’
“What the hell does that worthless mage want?” Maria snapped, tearing it open with a force the average person reserved for the throat of a hated enemy. An invitation bordered with red and green scallops fell out of the shredded envelope’s remains, along with several clumps of magical snow, which glittered as it drifted to the street, instantly melting upon contact with the ground. The text glowed brightly, as it invited Maria (and Nyx, ‘because Light knows he’s with you all the bloody time these days’) to a Winter’s Veil dinner at Adrasteius’s new home in the Court of the Sun.
“Free food,” Nyx said cheerfully. “And, er, family, that’s good too.”
Maria pocketed the invitation with surprising care. “Yeah. We’ll go. But maybe I should wash off the blood from this afternoon’s hunt first.”
“It’s red, isn’t it? Festive!” Nyx said, and she laughed, punching him in the arm.
*
She wanted him to tell her a story. That was why he found her in the library, sitting wonderingly in front of the stacks, running her fingers along the leather spines. She loved the smell of leather, because her husband read so often that the faint scent of it was always on his skin.
He tried to come upon her silently, but her hearing was too keen for that-her head turned just slightly, her weight shifted a minute degree to the left, but she did not speak. Kneeling behind her, Vehiron bit her ear gently, his tongue flicking across the lobe, and he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her body against his.
“Hello, beautiful,” he spoke against her neck, kissing the skin down along her bare shoulder. “I was looking for you. Do you want dinner?”
Eulalia relaxed against her husband, a soft purr vibrating in her throat. “I want you to read me something.”
He massaged her hips, still nuzzling her neck, his breath warm against her jawline. “Of course, anything.”
Vehiron hadn’t thought to check the library at first. He had been wandering their expansive mansion for the past hour, searching for his wife, who had become slippery since giving birth last week. Their infant, Rael, slept peacefully in his crib, sated with breastmilk, and that morning feeding was the last Vehiron had seen of Eulalia ‘til now. He didn’t mind her freedom and her wandering, but Vehiron lost track of what to do with himself when she wasn’t there. His fingers dug into her muscles, muscles which had softened from idleness in pregnancy, and she whimpered. Her hands were brushing against the spines, and she faltered, arching her back against his chest.
“I miss you when you’re gone,” he whispered, without thinking. Vehiron didn’t want her to feel guilty or tethered to him. But it was the truth.
“If you didn’t wanna lose me, you shoulda built a smaller place,” she teased. Eulalia’s index finger slid between two books, and she pulled one free.
“Read this,” she said. She had no idea what book it was, she just liked the rich burgundy of its cover.
“Oh, Eulie, you don’t want to hear this one,” Vehiron said. “It’s a volume about Arcanometric Arithmancy.”
“Not a story?”
“A very boring one,” he said. He leaned over her and selected a different book, one of old elven fairy tales. “Here.”
Vehiron showed her the colorfully illuminated letters and illustrations that covered the gilt-edged pages.
“Preettty,” she said, and touched the delicate, intricate decorations that adorned a giant letter O.
“Mmmhm,” he said. She wriggled away from him, taking his hand as she stood. Leading him over to the enormous chair in front of the fireplace, she then directed him to sit. Vehiron obeyed, and watched as she stoked the fire in the hearth. Vehiron reached for the bottle of wine on the table beside the chair, uncorked it and poured himself a glass. He arranged his limbs comfortably while he waited for his wife, who had finished stoking the flames and was now reaching into the neckline of her dress. This he watched with profound interest.
Eulalia withdrew her transformation sphere and activated its enchantment, causing her body to shift from night elf to blood elf. The spell significantly altered her frame, and brought her height down from seven feet to five. Vehiron opened his arms wide, and she climbed into his lap, curling up against him.
Encircling her waist, he held the book in front of them and was about to begin reading when a servant knocked timidly on the doorframe of the library’s entrance.
“Sir,” the servant said. “A message.”
*
The house that Adrasteius had bought for Avali was warm with the scent of spices and cooking food, warm with the glow of lights strung on a sweetly fragrant pine tree, and warm with the sound of Adra’s big, abrasive voice, calling for her to please help him mash the potatoes because the little bastards were not going to do it to themselves. Avali thought that Adra’s voice didn’t match his small fame; it was as though his oversized soul were leaking out whenever he spoke.
She flicked at his ear and laughed when it flattened away from her, like an agitated cat.
“I mean it,” Adra said, shoving a bowl of tender, boiled potatoes and a saucepan of milk at her. “Get busy, princess.”
“Princesses don’t do their own cooking,” she said dryly, but she obeyed nonetheless and began to pound the potatoes into submission with the hand-operated beater that Adra provided, adding a little milk at regular intervals. She attacked them with zeal, such that Adra said, “Come on, I wasn’t trying to upset you. That time.”
“I’m not mad,” Avali said. “I’m just trying to do a good job.”
She grinned at him, and he made a growled noise of understanding in his throat, which was so adorable that she had to flick his ear again.
“What the hell, woman! You’re going to leave a mark.”
“Magister,” Avali said, as she continued to rain terror upon the potatoes, “have I told you that I love this house?”
“That’s fortunate, because the damn thing definitely wasn’t free.” He paused. “Although I am disgustingly wealthy now, you know.”
“Is that so?”
“Well,” he amended, “Maybe distastefully wealthy.”
There was a loud knock on the door, and Adra went to answer it, with Avali calling after him, “Get some servants, then!”
When he returned with Maria and Nyx in tow, he said, “I don’t want any unsupervised people in my kitchen or my study.”
“Like you could get anyone to work for you,” Maria said. “They’d mispronounce a word or forget to polish in a forgotten crevice and you’d scold them ‘til they ran from the room in tears.”
“Or punched you in the face,” Nyx said helpfully.
“I wouldn’t yell at the help,” Adra said. “Not at top volume, anyway.”
Maria flopped down on a chair and propped her boots up on the dinner table, smiling pleasantly as mud oozed from the cleats and spattered onto the wood. “What’s for eats, then?”
“Nothing for you if you don’t clean that up,” Adra said, waving a ladle menacingly.
Maria rubbed at the mud splotches with her boots and bowed her head. “There ya go.”
Adra threw a rag at her, which she caught nimbly. “Try again.”
“Hypochondriac,” Maria said, scrubbing the table with her tongue between her teeth.
“Can I do anything?” Nyx asked.
Adrasteius handed him a bowl of un-whipped cream and a metal tool that would have fit neatly within any respectable torture dungeon.
“Whip that up if you could-just turn the crank, yes, it’s enchanted to do the rest-”
“This feels wrong,” Nyx said, as the gruesome, spiked device went to work on Adra’s mixture, beating it rapidly to a fluffy froth. “I never realized cooking entailed such violence.”
“It’s a dangerous job,” Adra said, with such put-upon bravery that Avali pinched him.
“See?” Adra winced, rubbing the red bump on his arm. “Dangerous.”
Someone knocked violently on the door, and Maria, seeing the others occupied in their food preparation tasks, supposed she could spare a minute of lounging time to answer it.
She felt a chill as she approached the door, and she noticed that Adra’s front windows had frozen over. Had it snowed in Silvermoon, for the first time ever? Was it a Winter Veil miracle?
Maria opened the door.
“Salutations,” Aurelius said, leaning on the hilt of his runeblade.
Maria slammed the door shut.
“Hey!” The death knight shouted, hitting the door with the flat edge of his weapon. “I was invited!”
“Dinner’s canceled,” Maria shouted back. “Go home!”
Adra appeared in the foyer, wiping his hands on his apron and frowning. “What’s the problem here?”
“Crazy homeless guy trying to break in,” Maria said. “I’m scaring him off.”
“Fuck you!” Aurelius beat the door again.
“He’s my brother,” Adra said. “And he’s getting better.”
“No, see,” Maria said, “the gash I got on my leg last week, from hunting a boar? That’s getting better. Aurelius is a mass murderer. They don’t get better. They mass murder.”
“He is working very diligently on his self-actualization,” Adra said, opening the door.
“Like you’ve never made mistakes,” Aurelius grumbled. He trailed frost behind him as he stepped onto the foyer, leaving icy rose patterns in his wake. Maria would have admired these if she didn’t despise their creator so deeply.
“No, I have-but I’ve somehow avoided the ruthless slaughter of countless innocent people!”
Adra embraced his brother, who returned the hug awkwardly while glaring over Adra’s shoulder at Maria.
“Can we leave that aside for the moment?” Adra said. “His will was subsumed by the Lich King. He couldn’t control his actions.”
“Seemed pretty excited about it at the time,” Maria mumbled. Adra gave her a warning look and she clammed up, for fear of spending the rest of the evening in wool. Her other option was to storm off indignantly, and while that was attractive, Adrasteius’s meal was done, and its scent was too enticing to ignore.
Aurelius chose not to speak at all; words would have betrayed him. He didn’t want to examine his motivations or lack thereof tonight. All he wanted was to be with this family, whether it wanted him or not.
“Leave that thing by the stairs at least,” Adra said, nodding at the runeblade. “Gives me the creeps.”
Aurelius set the sword down with some reluctance; it casts its eerie glow over the banister in an abandoned fashion as Aurelius went to greet Avali and Nyx. Their reception was predictable: cold, restrained acceptance. But at least they weren’t kicking him out.
“Who else did you invite?” Avali muttered to Adra.
“Let’s see … Vehiron, Eulalia, Lulu, and Omelet.”
“Are you serious?” Avali hissed.
“Like it or not, this is the family we’ve built,” Adra said.
“And they loathe each other.”
“Like all solid families do.”
Avali groaned, pressing her forehead to the middle of Adra’s back.
Cheerfully, he said, “Are those potatoes done?”
*
“Your presence is requested at the home of Adrasteius Bloodspeaker,” the servant said, reading from the enchanted invitation, which was shedding illusory show particles. He folded the scroll and massaged his bright red cheek while he waited for an answer.
“Read to me some,” Eulalia said. “Then we’ll go.”
“All right,” Vehiron said agreeably. He nodded to the servant, and the human man bowed before he left.
“This is a story about a gentle village girl, the daughter of a blacksmith who fell in love with a high elf nobleman,” Vehiron began. “She saw him with his company one day, in the forests of Lordaeron. His father was visiting with the King, you see. She thought that she had glimpsed a god.”
“What did they look like?” Eulalia snuggled in against her husband, tucking her head under his chin. Her body was soft and warm, fitting so comfortably, the rhythm of her breathing synced with his, gentle and even. Her presence smoothed the rough edges, settled his confusion, and brought the whole world into brighter focus.
Eulalia craned her neck back to listen to his description, and he was halfway through a belabored paragraph on the nobleman’s flaxen hair when his wife’s parted lips and wide eyes became too much to tolerate.
The book slipped from Vehiron’s hands as he moved to cup Eulalia’s chin; it hit the carpet with a heavy thump and clapped shut. Eulalia’s eyes darted down to the fallen book, but Vehiron held her fast, and then he kissed her, slowly, lovingly. Her eyes closed. She forgot about the book.
Vehiron trailed his fingers along the curve of her spine, smiling as her weight shifted against the palm of his hand. In a moment he would call the servant back, and send Adrasteius their regrets.
*
The message from the Goldthorn household arrived in the middle of dinner. Adrasteius opened it while his guests stabbed at and scooped up the exquisite culinary masterpiece he had prepared for them.
“Vehiron and Eulalia won’t be joining us,” he announced. Omasvara and Luceat had sent a reply earlier in the evening, though the letter was less a ‘regret’ than a ‘suck on it, Bloodspeaker, we’re not leaving the lawn,’ which he shrugged off as their loss entirely.
“Good,” Aurelius said. He growled defiantly at his slice of turkey.
“Jeeaalous?” Maria said.
“He stole her from me,” Aurelius said. “The life he’s living should be mine.”
Avali shook her head. “Eulalia loves him, and he loves her. You missed whatever you chance you had a long time ago.”
“Shouldn’t be with either of them, in my opinion,” Maria said. “Evil and … eviler.”
“So, how’s the bird?!” Adra interjected. “Good?”
“You know it’s wonderful, Magister,” Avali said, cutting off Aure’s reply. He drove his fork into the center of a slice of ham like someone plunging a sword into a corpse. Juice bubbled from where the fork’s tines pierced the meat and Aurelius fixated on his plate.
The deathly chill that emanated from his glowing blue eyes was so intense that Adrasteius feared his meal would freeze on his lips if Aurelius actually tried to lift the fork.
“I’m not hungry,” Aure said.
“Are you ever really hungry?” Nyx asked. “Since you’re dead and all.”
“No,” Aurelius said, and pushed the plate away from him. “I’m not.”
“How rude,” Avali said, frowning at Nyx, who shrugged in response. “You don’t have any consideration for anyone, do you?”
“That’s not true,” Nyx said amicably. “Just yesterday I assisted an old woman with crossing the Walk of Elders.”
“Really?” Avali said.
“Yes. I quite helpfully stood on the opposite side of the lane and waved at her, so that she knew where to go.”
“Why are you WITH this thing?” Avali snapped at Maria.
Scowling, Maria opened her mouth to bite back, but all sound was dead in her throat.
“This is a time for family togetherness,” Adrasteius said. He had silence the entire table, and they glared at him mutinously.
He slammed his palms on the table, and the dishes jumped, clattering with the silverware. “I didn’t spend the whole day in the kitchen with this magnificent apron so you people could bicker over my delicious food. You are going to conduct a goddamn pleasant conversation, or I swear to the Light you will all wake up vomiting dust.”
The looks darkened from mutiny to murder.
“Hey! Hey. Like it or not, we are family. We should be grateful to be here. To be alive.” He sighed at Aurelius. “To exist, in some cases. Can we please-please-pass a nice evening together? For the sake of the holiday spirit? For the sake of acting like a normal family?”
He lifted the spell.
“Adrasteius,” Avali said. “We are acting like a normal family.”
“Seriously. Winter’s Veil at my house was always a major drag,” Maria said. “Too formal.”
“My family couldn’t last ten minutes around a dinner table,” Avali said. “And we never even talked to each other!”
“It’s usually a bloodbath at my family gatherings,” Nyx said, grinning ferally. “Got the scars to prove it.”
“Ours were quiet, too,” Aurelius said softly. “The nanny cooked more than mom or dad. They left us alone to eat.”
“Yeah,” Adra said, surprised by the clarity of his brother’s memory. “That’s true.”
A few moments passed, and then Nyx said, “Pass over that pie, if you would, Aurelius. And the custard, please.”
“Let me cut a slice for myself first,” Aurelius said, digging into the skethyl berry pie, which was vibrant purple and breaded with a thick, lightly browned crust and topped with swirls of whipped cream. The custard was chocolate, gleaming and garnished with plump red cherries. Aurelius served himself and passed the desserts, which then went silently around the table.
“Mmm,” Avali said. “My favorite, Adra.”
“’S good,” Aurelius said, licking a purple smear off of his lips.
Adra sank back in his chair, knowing that another argument could break out any minute-Nyx was pushing a forkful of pie a little too aggressively at Maria-but he supposed they were right. He couldn’t ask or hope for a more normal family.
More importantly, he wouldn’t.
Here is a Winter's Veil story; it got very long. Featuring Adrasteius and THA CREW.
quick guide:
Adrasteius: crankiest blood elf mage this side of Silvermoon
Avali: his long-suffering fiancee, a paladin; belongs to altanachan
Eulalia: happy-go-lucky night elf hunter, married to Vehiron
Vehiron: psychotic slut, reformed <3; belongs to altanachan
Aurelius: Adra's twin brother, a death knight, trying to reform
Maria: short-tempered blood elf hunter, does not have time for your nonsense; belongs to sandy_mithra
Nyx: sardonic netherdrake in disguise; maria's ma~aan (dragon)
MENTIONED:
Cian: angsty undead teen
Lilija: werewolf undead seamstress girl, ALWAYS IN TROUBLE; belongs to demonlet
Omasvara: JACKASS (blood elf warlock); belongs to jesuitfluff
Luceat: ALSO A JACKASS (blood elf priest); belongs to teaandfailure
warnings: sap.
“If by ridiculous, you mean ‘so amazing you can hardly comprehend it,’ yes,” Adra replied. He opened the cabinets in their spacious kitchen (it was, Avali had noticed, the largest room in the house, bigger even than the master bedroom) and began to pull out an array of ingredients. “Besides, we’ve had dinner parties in the past. I just wanted to do something for Winter’s Veil this year. It’s a sacred time, you know.”
“Not this again,” Avali said. “Winter’s Veil has nothing to do with the Light.”
“Everything has to do with the Light, Lady Blood Knight,” Adra said. “But admittedly, this is a different sort of tradition, and while our tauren brethren are sadly malnourished in their understanding of the divine mysteries, I can appreciate their gifts with regard to the natural balance of things.” He started to go on about blankets of snow and renewal and wintry cloaks and before Avali’s brain slid out of her ears, she cut him off,
“But we’re in Silvermoon. It never snows,” Avali said.
“Never say never,” Adra said, and Avali didn’t know which was more unsettling-his persistent calm or his apron.
“Who are you inviting, then?” she said.
He shrugged. “Everybody. If it makes you feel any better, Cian already sent back word that he won’t be here. He’s still tracking Lilija in Northrend.”
“So that just leaves everyone else,” Avali said. She was suddenly glad that she never took off her armor.
*
“You ought to check your mail a bit more often, madam,” Nyx said.
From beneath a pile of packages and letters, a slim-fingered hand emerged, quivering weakly before it flopped across the pile, useless and sad. A soft, groaned, “Shut up,” reached Nyx’s twitching ears, and he bent over the pile to excavate Maria, tossing crates of various items (bandages, packs of salted jerky, pet snacks, friendly and partially torn notes from Vehiron Goldthorn, pleading inquiries from various captains around Eversong and the Ghostlands, et cetera) aside until he saw her defiantly sheepish face.
“Look, I have things to do,” she said, as he helped her up. “I don’t have time to be dancing for coins in front of the mailbox all day.”
The box spat out another letter just as she finished speaking. Its envelope struck her soundly in the face, and she growled as she clapped a hand over it. Only Adrasteius enchanted his letters to physically attack their recipients. He called it ‘insurance.’
“What the hell does that worthless mage want?” Maria snapped, tearing it open with a force the average person reserved for the throat of a hated enemy. An invitation bordered with red and green scallops fell out of the shredded envelope’s remains, along with several clumps of magical snow, which glittered as it drifted to the street, instantly melting upon contact with the ground. The text glowed brightly, as it invited Maria (and Nyx, ‘because Light knows he’s with you all the bloody time these days’) to a Winter’s Veil dinner at Adrasteius’s new home in the Court of the Sun.
“Free food,” Nyx said cheerfully. “And, er, family, that’s good too.”
Maria pocketed the invitation with surprising care. “Yeah. We’ll go. But maybe I should wash off the blood from this afternoon’s hunt first.”
“It’s red, isn’t it? Festive!” Nyx said, and she laughed, punching him in the arm.
*
She wanted him to tell her a story. That was why he found her in the library, sitting wonderingly in front of the stacks, running her fingers along the leather spines. She loved the smell of leather, because her husband read so often that the faint scent of it was always on his skin.
He tried to come upon her silently, but her hearing was too keen for that-her head turned just slightly, her weight shifted a minute degree to the left, but she did not speak. Kneeling behind her, Vehiron bit her ear gently, his tongue flicking across the lobe, and he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her body against his.
“Hello, beautiful,” he spoke against her neck, kissing the skin down along her bare shoulder. “I was looking for you. Do you want dinner?”
Eulalia relaxed against her husband, a soft purr vibrating in her throat. “I want you to read me something.”
He massaged her hips, still nuzzling her neck, his breath warm against her jawline. “Of course, anything.”
Vehiron hadn’t thought to check the library at first. He had been wandering their expansive mansion for the past hour, searching for his wife, who had become slippery since giving birth last week. Their infant, Rael, slept peacefully in his crib, sated with breastmilk, and that morning feeding was the last Vehiron had seen of Eulalia ‘til now. He didn’t mind her freedom and her wandering, but Vehiron lost track of what to do with himself when she wasn’t there. His fingers dug into her muscles, muscles which had softened from idleness in pregnancy, and she whimpered. Her hands were brushing against the spines, and she faltered, arching her back against his chest.
“I miss you when you’re gone,” he whispered, without thinking. Vehiron didn’t want her to feel guilty or tethered to him. But it was the truth.
“If you didn’t wanna lose me, you shoulda built a smaller place,” she teased. Eulalia’s index finger slid between two books, and she pulled one free.
“Read this,” she said. She had no idea what book it was, she just liked the rich burgundy of its cover.
“Oh, Eulie, you don’t want to hear this one,” Vehiron said. “It’s a volume about Arcanometric Arithmancy.”
“Not a story?”
“A very boring one,” he said. He leaned over her and selected a different book, one of old elven fairy tales. “Here.”
Vehiron showed her the colorfully illuminated letters and illustrations that covered the gilt-edged pages.
“Preettty,” she said, and touched the delicate, intricate decorations that adorned a giant letter O.
“Mmmhm,” he said. She wriggled away from him, taking his hand as she stood. Leading him over to the enormous chair in front of the fireplace, she then directed him to sit. Vehiron obeyed, and watched as she stoked the fire in the hearth. Vehiron reached for the bottle of wine on the table beside the chair, uncorked it and poured himself a glass. He arranged his limbs comfortably while he waited for his wife, who had finished stoking the flames and was now reaching into the neckline of her dress. This he watched with profound interest.
Eulalia withdrew her transformation sphere and activated its enchantment, causing her body to shift from night elf to blood elf. The spell significantly altered her frame, and brought her height down from seven feet to five. Vehiron opened his arms wide, and she climbed into his lap, curling up against him.
Encircling her waist, he held the book in front of them and was about to begin reading when a servant knocked timidly on the doorframe of the library’s entrance.
“Sir,” the servant said. “A message.”
*
The house that Adrasteius had bought for Avali was warm with the scent of spices and cooking food, warm with the glow of lights strung on a sweetly fragrant pine tree, and warm with the sound of Adra’s big, abrasive voice, calling for her to please help him mash the potatoes because the little bastards were not going to do it to themselves. Avali thought that Adra’s voice didn’t match his small fame; it was as though his oversized soul were leaking out whenever he spoke.
She flicked at his ear and laughed when it flattened away from her, like an agitated cat.
“I mean it,” Adra said, shoving a bowl of tender, boiled potatoes and a saucepan of milk at her. “Get busy, princess.”
“Princesses don’t do their own cooking,” she said dryly, but she obeyed nonetheless and began to pound the potatoes into submission with the hand-operated beater that Adra provided, adding a little milk at regular intervals. She attacked them with zeal, such that Adra said, “Come on, I wasn’t trying to upset you. That time.”
“I’m not mad,” Avali said. “I’m just trying to do a good job.”
She grinned at him, and he made a growled noise of understanding in his throat, which was so adorable that she had to flick his ear again.
“What the hell, woman! You’re going to leave a mark.”
“Magister,” Avali said, as she continued to rain terror upon the potatoes, “have I told you that I love this house?”
“That’s fortunate, because the damn thing definitely wasn’t free.” He paused. “Although I am disgustingly wealthy now, you know.”
“Is that so?”
“Well,” he amended, “Maybe distastefully wealthy.”
There was a loud knock on the door, and Adra went to answer it, with Avali calling after him, “Get some servants, then!”
When he returned with Maria and Nyx in tow, he said, “I don’t want any unsupervised people in my kitchen or my study.”
“Like you could get anyone to work for you,” Maria said. “They’d mispronounce a word or forget to polish in a forgotten crevice and you’d scold them ‘til they ran from the room in tears.”
“Or punched you in the face,” Nyx said helpfully.
“I wouldn’t yell at the help,” Adra said. “Not at top volume, anyway.”
Maria flopped down on a chair and propped her boots up on the dinner table, smiling pleasantly as mud oozed from the cleats and spattered onto the wood. “What’s for eats, then?”
“Nothing for you if you don’t clean that up,” Adra said, waving a ladle menacingly.
Maria rubbed at the mud splotches with her boots and bowed her head. “There ya go.”
Adra threw a rag at her, which she caught nimbly. “Try again.”
“Hypochondriac,” Maria said, scrubbing the table with her tongue between her teeth.
“Can I do anything?” Nyx asked.
Adrasteius handed him a bowl of un-whipped cream and a metal tool that would have fit neatly within any respectable torture dungeon.
“Whip that up if you could-just turn the crank, yes, it’s enchanted to do the rest-”
“This feels wrong,” Nyx said, as the gruesome, spiked device went to work on Adra’s mixture, beating it rapidly to a fluffy froth. “I never realized cooking entailed such violence.”
“It’s a dangerous job,” Adra said, with such put-upon bravery that Avali pinched him.
“See?” Adra winced, rubbing the red bump on his arm. “Dangerous.”
Someone knocked violently on the door, and Maria, seeing the others occupied in their food preparation tasks, supposed she could spare a minute of lounging time to answer it.
She felt a chill as she approached the door, and she noticed that Adra’s front windows had frozen over. Had it snowed in Silvermoon, for the first time ever? Was it a Winter Veil miracle?
Maria opened the door.
“Salutations,” Aurelius said, leaning on the hilt of his runeblade.
Maria slammed the door shut.
“Hey!” The death knight shouted, hitting the door with the flat edge of his weapon. “I was invited!”
“Dinner’s canceled,” Maria shouted back. “Go home!”
Adra appeared in the foyer, wiping his hands on his apron and frowning. “What’s the problem here?”
“Crazy homeless guy trying to break in,” Maria said. “I’m scaring him off.”
“Fuck you!” Aurelius beat the door again.
“He’s my brother,” Adra said. “And he’s getting better.”
“No, see,” Maria said, “the gash I got on my leg last week, from hunting a boar? That’s getting better. Aurelius is a mass murderer. They don’t get better. They mass murder.”
“He is working very diligently on his self-actualization,” Adra said, opening the door.
“Like you’ve never made mistakes,” Aurelius grumbled. He trailed frost behind him as he stepped onto the foyer, leaving icy rose patterns in his wake. Maria would have admired these if she didn’t despise their creator so deeply.
“No, I have-but I’ve somehow avoided the ruthless slaughter of countless innocent people!”
Adra embraced his brother, who returned the hug awkwardly while glaring over Adra’s shoulder at Maria.
“Can we leave that aside for the moment?” Adra said. “His will was subsumed by the Lich King. He couldn’t control his actions.”
“Seemed pretty excited about it at the time,” Maria mumbled. Adra gave her a warning look and she clammed up, for fear of spending the rest of the evening in wool. Her other option was to storm off indignantly, and while that was attractive, Adrasteius’s meal was done, and its scent was too enticing to ignore.
Aurelius chose not to speak at all; words would have betrayed him. He didn’t want to examine his motivations or lack thereof tonight. All he wanted was to be with this family, whether it wanted him or not.
“Leave that thing by the stairs at least,” Adra said, nodding at the runeblade. “Gives me the creeps.”
Aurelius set the sword down with some reluctance; it casts its eerie glow over the banister in an abandoned fashion as Aurelius went to greet Avali and Nyx. Their reception was predictable: cold, restrained acceptance. But at least they weren’t kicking him out.
“Who else did you invite?” Avali muttered to Adra.
“Let’s see … Vehiron, Eulalia, Lulu, and Omelet.”
“Are you serious?” Avali hissed.
“Like it or not, this is the family we’ve built,” Adra said.
“And they loathe each other.”
“Like all solid families do.”
Avali groaned, pressing her forehead to the middle of Adra’s back.
Cheerfully, he said, “Are those potatoes done?”
*
“Your presence is requested at the home of Adrasteius Bloodspeaker,” the servant said, reading from the enchanted invitation, which was shedding illusory show particles. He folded the scroll and massaged his bright red cheek while he waited for an answer.
“Read to me some,” Eulalia said. “Then we’ll go.”
“All right,” Vehiron said agreeably. He nodded to the servant, and the human man bowed before he left.
“This is a story about a gentle village girl, the daughter of a blacksmith who fell in love with a high elf nobleman,” Vehiron began. “She saw him with his company one day, in the forests of Lordaeron. His father was visiting with the King, you see. She thought that she had glimpsed a god.”
“What did they look like?” Eulalia snuggled in against her husband, tucking her head under his chin. Her body was soft and warm, fitting so comfortably, the rhythm of her breathing synced with his, gentle and even. Her presence smoothed the rough edges, settled his confusion, and brought the whole world into brighter focus.
Eulalia craned her neck back to listen to his description, and he was halfway through a belabored paragraph on the nobleman’s flaxen hair when his wife’s parted lips and wide eyes became too much to tolerate.
The book slipped from Vehiron’s hands as he moved to cup Eulalia’s chin; it hit the carpet with a heavy thump and clapped shut. Eulalia’s eyes darted down to the fallen book, but Vehiron held her fast, and then he kissed her, slowly, lovingly. Her eyes closed. She forgot about the book.
Vehiron trailed his fingers along the curve of her spine, smiling as her weight shifted against the palm of his hand. In a moment he would call the servant back, and send Adrasteius their regrets.
*
The message from the Goldthorn household arrived in the middle of dinner. Adrasteius opened it while his guests stabbed at and scooped up the exquisite culinary masterpiece he had prepared for them.
“Vehiron and Eulalia won’t be joining us,” he announced. Omasvara and Luceat had sent a reply earlier in the evening, though the letter was less a ‘regret’ than a ‘suck on it, Bloodspeaker, we’re not leaving the lawn,’ which he shrugged off as their loss entirely.
“Good,” Aurelius said. He growled defiantly at his slice of turkey.
“Jeeaalous?” Maria said.
“He stole her from me,” Aurelius said. “The life he’s living should be mine.”
Avali shook her head. “Eulalia loves him, and he loves her. You missed whatever you chance you had a long time ago.”
“Shouldn’t be with either of them, in my opinion,” Maria said. “Evil and … eviler.”
“So, how’s the bird?!” Adra interjected. “Good?”
“You know it’s wonderful, Magister,” Avali said, cutting off Aure’s reply. He drove his fork into the center of a slice of ham like someone plunging a sword into a corpse. Juice bubbled from where the fork’s tines pierced the meat and Aurelius fixated on his plate.
The deathly chill that emanated from his glowing blue eyes was so intense that Adrasteius feared his meal would freeze on his lips if Aurelius actually tried to lift the fork.
“I’m not hungry,” Aure said.
“Are you ever really hungry?” Nyx asked. “Since you’re dead and all.”
“No,” Aurelius said, and pushed the plate away from him. “I’m not.”
“How rude,” Avali said, frowning at Nyx, who shrugged in response. “You don’t have any consideration for anyone, do you?”
“That’s not true,” Nyx said amicably. “Just yesterday I assisted an old woman with crossing the Walk of Elders.”
“Really?” Avali said.
“Yes. I quite helpfully stood on the opposite side of the lane and waved at her, so that she knew where to go.”
“Why are you WITH this thing?” Avali snapped at Maria.
Scowling, Maria opened her mouth to bite back, but all sound was dead in her throat.
“This is a time for family togetherness,” Adrasteius said. He had silence the entire table, and they glared at him mutinously.
He slammed his palms on the table, and the dishes jumped, clattering with the silverware. “I didn’t spend the whole day in the kitchen with this magnificent apron so you people could bicker over my delicious food. You are going to conduct a goddamn pleasant conversation, or I swear to the Light you will all wake up vomiting dust.”
The looks darkened from mutiny to murder.
“Hey! Hey. Like it or not, we are family. We should be grateful to be here. To be alive.” He sighed at Aurelius. “To exist, in some cases. Can we please-please-pass a nice evening together? For the sake of the holiday spirit? For the sake of acting like a normal family?”
He lifted the spell.
“Adrasteius,” Avali said. “We are acting like a normal family.”
“Seriously. Winter’s Veil at my house was always a major drag,” Maria said. “Too formal.”
“My family couldn’t last ten minutes around a dinner table,” Avali said. “And we never even talked to each other!”
“It’s usually a bloodbath at my family gatherings,” Nyx said, grinning ferally. “Got the scars to prove it.”
“Ours were quiet, too,” Aurelius said softly. “The nanny cooked more than mom or dad. They left us alone to eat.”
“Yeah,” Adra said, surprised by the clarity of his brother’s memory. “That’s true.”
A few moments passed, and then Nyx said, “Pass over that pie, if you would, Aurelius. And the custard, please.”
“Let me cut a slice for myself first,” Aurelius said, digging into the skethyl berry pie, which was vibrant purple and breaded with a thick, lightly browned crust and topped with swirls of whipped cream. The custard was chocolate, gleaming and garnished with plump red cherries. Aurelius served himself and passed the desserts, which then went silently around the table.
“Mmm,” Avali said. “My favorite, Adra.”
“’S good,” Aurelius said, licking a purple smear off of his lips.
Adra sank back in his chair, knowing that another argument could break out any minute-Nyx was pushing a forkful of pie a little too aggressively at Maria-but he supposed they were right. He couldn’t ask or hope for a more normal family.
More importantly, he wouldn’t.