Lorren

Nine

Lorren sat in the bed, fingering the edge of her gown as she studied the two brothers. She had memorized their features, but now that they were next to each other, right in front of her, other things stood out that didn’t before. She was able to see beyond their manly beauty and find the flaws that made them unique.

Aran had a small scar that cut through the left of his upper lip, near the bow. His lips were thinner than Etan’s, but still finely shaped. When he frowned, his eyebrows drew together to create crinkles and his lips pressed tightly, giving him a look of sternness. Although Aran was stern in appearance, he had a goodness in him that drew others to his side. A light of golden hues radiated from him, bathing her in his warmth when he was near her, creating a cocoon of security as it entwined with her own energies.

Etan had a boyish look to him - fresh skin free from battle scars, with full lips and fine eyebrows. Even still, Lorren could see a darkness in him that belied his outward appearance. When his temper shot off, she could see the swell of energy around him, taste the acridness of it in her mouth, feel the suffocating heaviness of it as it tried to consume him. His energy frayed her nerves, reminding her of her life before being rescued. She had never seen a darkness like this in anyone but her master, the man who had raised and trained her, honed and harnessed her powers.

Lorren looked to Aran, hoping that she still had a mental link with him. She nudged his barrier with her powers gently, hoping he would respond, assuming that he would not. As moments passed by without his response, she finally dropped her barrier, hoping that it would make it easier for him to register her in his mind.

I am here, gwennig, Aran finally responded, What is weighing on you so heavily that you cannot say it aloud?

It is Etan. Can you not see the power roiling from him? It’s getting darker and darker... I can sense that he is trying to contain it, but it is swallowing him whole. The one and only other person I have seen like this is my... my master. Aran, he is becoming dark. His light is fading quickly, Lorren whispered hastily into his mind, her eyes never straying from Etan’s face, which was hidden by shadows.

What do you suggest I do, Lorren? I cannot see what you can. I cannot look through your eyes unless we are physically connected as well as mentally. You are aware of the extent of my powers, as I am aware that you have no extent to yours, Aran replied, his frustration palpable.

Lorren shot her eyes to him, Aran, I am going to try something, and I ask that you support me in this. I want Etan to remain good, but it is hard for him to want to when he has had something so precious stripped from him. His heart is heavy, and it is allowing the darkness to take hold. Will you support me, my kallo - my hero?

Aran looked up at Lorren then, his eyes widening at her term for him. Kallo in the old tongue meant hero, but when used by a woman in an intimate setting, it meant much more. It meant that she gave her trust to him, believed in him above others. For her to refer to him as “Kallo” brought an immediate response out of him- Mine. The possessiveness took Aran by surprise, but he didn’t fight it. He knew to listen to his instincts, and his instincts were telling him that she was his.

I will support you in anything, gwennig. You need not ask me. I swore myself to you, and I meant it. Do what you feel is necessary. I am here. He nodded at her slightly, his eyes focusing on his brother.

“Etan?” Lorren said, drawing Etan’s attention to her, “Could you help me for a moment? I’m feeling a bit chilled and the fire is too far away to really allow me to feel its warmth.” She spoke to him slowly, as if he were a small child, coaxing him out of his dark mood.

Etan looked from Lorren to Aran, then back to Lorren again, a small and triumphant smile playing about his lips as his spirit lifted fractionally. He mentally cheered that she had called upon him and not his brother to help her with something, regardless of how mundane or menial the task was. “What is it that you need me to do, Lorren?” he asked as he moved closer to her, grasping her small hand in both of his when he sat next to her on the bed.

“Could you sit here for a while, next to me? I feel that having the warmth from another might chase away the chill I am feeling,” Lorren said, her eyes wide and full of feigned innocence as she patted the empty spot next to her on the bed. She knew that having Etan so close to her was not smart - the man was still pining for his bride, who was quite possibly her sister, and was unpredictable at the moment - but she could not think of a better way to ease the heaviness inside of him. Whenever he felt like he was being of use to Lorren, or when he spoke of Ledia, she could see the darkness in him begin to lift. But the moment Aran shoved him away from Lorren or changed the subject away from Ledia, the darkness would settle back over him.

Is that wise, gwennig? He is blurring you and Ledia together... I do not want him to forget that you are not his bride, Aran spoke into Lorren’s mind suddenly, his apprehension rising as the possessiveness in him began to resurface, giving a sharp edge to his mind’s voice.