Page 41 of The Night Prince 3
And now I have potentially the son of the Night King as a friend. The moment I saw him–my Shadow, perhaps THE Shadow–I felt our connection. But it is nothing bad. Declan is not bad. But what happens if Vex did kill my parents? Declan is not responsible for it. No other Night Elves are.
Stranger still, he had never found out what territory or trinkets his parents had risked nearly certain death for in traveling into the Under Dark with only a few trusted advisors and warriors. He had scoured his parents’ private and public papers, but there was nothing. He had questioned the advisors who were left. Every person on the Radiant Council had been brought to have tea, dinner, drinks, whatever he could think up so that he could question them. But nothing. The only odd thing that had struck him was his mother’s library.
He’d always loved reading and the quiet of a library–especially his mother’s with its honey colored wood and shelves stretching from floor to ceiling–had always been a special place for him. Not that she had let him read many of the books there.
“These are histories, Aquilan dearest,” his mother had said as she caught his wrist just as he’d been about to take a purple and silver colored tome from the shelves. “These wouldn’t interest you.”
The book was ancient. He could practically taste its antiquity on his tongue. And from the beautiful silver script on the spine, it had been about the creation of Illithor.
“But, Mother, it’s about Vex and Ailduin, isn’t it?” his voice, high and light and boyish, had protested at her words that he would not enjoy it.
The truth was he was in a phase where anything about Vex and the Under Dark was thrilling and he always loved all things Ailduin. There were so many bloodthirsty tales of the clever, vicious and powerful Vex that caused him to hide under his covers for fear the Night King would visit him. But he was starting to want to know the truth of the Kindreth. To see how much of this high-dudgeon was true and how much was make believe.
After all, Ailduin and Vex were said to have been friends, if not lovers. If Vex was as terrible as he was painted then Ailduin would never have befriended him. He was too wise and good. But he had and their friendship hadn’t just lasted a few centuries or even a few millennia, but over ten-thousand years. Maybe longer. So a history would be exactly what he was looking for. He needed to understand Vex.
His mother’s smile was thin. “Yes, well, history can be difficult to interpret without a deep background on a great many subjects. One must especially be careful of those who would write what they wished had happened and not what actually happened, though even with the latter there are risks of prejudice slipping in anyways.”
Aquilan blinked large eyes at her. Now he definitely wanted that book. What could it possibly say that his mother thought he would not understand? As a very young elf, he had strained against the conventional wisdom that serious things were to be reserved for when he had several millennia under his belt. He was ready to learn now! Besides, people said he reminded them of Ailduin all the time. He wanted to be like that ancient and noble Sun King. To model his life after Ailduin’s. How was he to do that if people kept information from him?
“I won’t believe everything it says, Mother,” he promised solemnly. “And if I have questions, I’ll come to you.”
How foolish did she think he was? History was, after all, written by the victors. Everyone knew that and expected such a shading of the truth. Though it was unclear if there were any victors after the destruction of Ailduin and Vex’s friendship.
“How about this,” she quickly broke in, “I’ll let you read this when I feel that you are sufficiently prepared for it?”
His cupid’s bow mouth tugged into a frown. This book must contain many secrets, many truths, if she thought he needed such preparation to read it. The purple and silver spine taunted him with its nearness. Could he snatch it and run away? No, that would be disrespectful to the extreme to his mother. And he loved her. So much. But he didn’t like her decision in this matter.
“When will that be?” he pouted. He wasn’t above pouting as it often got him concessions from her if he looked especially pitiful. Though he was careful not to use it overly much. But this was about Vex and Ailduin! It was worth the pursed lips and big eyes. “A very long time?”
“No, no, not a very long time.” She laughed and kissed his forehead. She smoothed a hand over his hair and studied him with a suddenly solemn expression. “Be diligent in your other studies, Aquilan, and I will let you read this book and many others on Vex and Ailduin. How about that?”
He nodded eagerly.
But that day had never come when she was alive. And after her death when he had gone into her library to finally look at some of those books, the ones about Vex and Ailduin–the one with that purple and silver cover–were gone. Like missing teeth in a too wide smile, every single book relating to either the Sun King or the Night King was not on the shelves. They’d clearly all been pulled out.
At first, he had assumed that Vesslan was behind the lost tomes. He had envisioned his elder brother running in there and burning anything about the Night King in his fury at not being able to take action against Vex. But why Ailduin also? Just because they had been friends? Supposedly, Ailduin learned to rue the day he’d allowed Xelroth Vex a permanent place in his heart.
But later, after the initial press of anguish had left him, he’d realized that his brother would never bother with their mother’s library. He’d never cared about it when she was alive and he certainly hadn’t when she’d died. Books had never scared or inspired Vesslan. He didn’t actually read very much.
So Aquilan had come to the startling–and even more perplexing conclusion–that his mother had taken the books. Maybe she had destroyed them, hid them somewhere or even taken them with her into the Under Dark. He was never to know their fate or what they contained for not even the Glass Scholar could locate a copy of the silver and purple book he described. The place where it had been was still empty on the bookshelf as if to remind him of its missing fate.
But these questions and reminisces–stirred by finally entering the Under Dark for the first time–were snuffed out. Because the moment he stepped across the threshold of the rift, the world spun and his view of Declan blurred. Only when he set foot on the ground in the Under Dark did the world settle again and he could see clearly once more.
Magic! Something interfered with the rift! But how? Who? Why?
Immediately, he looked for Declan but did not find him. The young man was nowhere near. He looked for the rift, but it, too, was gone. The magic had separated him not only from Declan, but from the others and a way back to Earth. All of his senses told him he was alone.
It could be that Declan’s use of magic this first–known–time to open a rift had been faulty and caused this issue. But he did not think so. No. Something else had interfered and thrust him from Declan and vice versa.
Someone did this. And the logical answer is Vex. But why?
There were a million answers to that of course. If Declan was truly his child, maybe the great Night King wanted a private word with his son. Or perhaps he thought that Aquilan’s hypocrisy wouldn’t hold and he would lash out at Declan. Absurd in some ways to think that, but in others… not so much. If he were an outsider looking in on his behavior towards the Night Elves, he wouldn’t trust himself either. And then, of course, there was the possibility that Vex wanted him–the Sun King–alone to murder him like he had Aquilan’s parents.
Might have murdered them. I cannot allow my pain over their loss to cloud my vision again!
None of these answers was pleasant to consider except for the first where Vex wanted to speak to Declan alone, to help his son recover his memories and know his place as the Night Prince. Aquilan swallowed. If Declan was the Night Prince then it was only logical that Vex had come to take him home. He would not allow his son to remain a lowly citizen of the Aravae Empire. Working in a bar? Living with humans? Carrying Aquilan’s books? Absolutely not! The fact that these were things in Declan’s life at all probably were an affront.
His heart suddenly hurt terribly and he placed a fist against his chest to offset that ache. Just that afternoon, he had been planning–if not consciously–about things that he and Declan would do together in the upcoming days, weeks, months and maybe even years ahead.
