Chapter Text
Viren hadn’t been much for cooking in the past. It was a tedious task that he didn’t need to worry himself with during his time at the castle. Any time they weren’t treated to food, Claudia would love to take up the helm to try new things in the kitchen. They didn’t always have the best outcomes, but delicious meal or horrible new splatter across the walls, they always had a certain charm that only Claudia could bring. He sighs over what he works at making now. Something in his chest aches. He misses her, he truly does.
Sometimes, he thinks, people take things for granted until they are put into the position to miss them. He felt it when Harrow was lost to the elven assassins what feels like eons ago now. He felt it when Soren chose to leave his side, and that too feels so long ago. The things he’d give to listen to Harrow’s ramblings in the early mornings. To watch Soren tease his sister and the princes relentlessly with his cheesy humor and horrible jokes. To have Claudia smile warmly at him again, to hear her say “I love you Dad” one more time. An image flashes through his mind, and he sees her but she’s not smiling. It’s a memory that feels so distant yet so clear. Her hair hangs in messy waves over her shoulders, half gone stark white, and her eyes… She looks exhausted. She was like that for such a long time. Weary, tired to the bone. She looked well beyond her years, clinging to a staff she shouldn’t need to stay standing. She no longer smiled.
Viren frowns, and banishes the thoughts from his mind. Dwelling did no good, he should know that. He pours a cut the soup he’d just made into a bowl and sets it upon a tray alongside bread he’d managed to dig out from a cabinet and a glass of water.
He stares down at the tray. After a long beat and another sigh, he picks it up.
The walk isn’t long from the kitchen down the hall. He passes several sets of tall, midnight blue doors on his way, but pays them no mind. He’s been there long enough now that he knows what lies beyond each. He stops at a set of doors at the end of the hall and steels himself before he enters. It opens to lush bedchambers. Plush carpeting covers the floor, large double doors open out to a balcony, and in the center of the room lies a bed, see through, sparkling drapes hanging around its edges. They’ve been mostly tied up, kept out of the way for the owner, who lays still upon the sheets.
If Viren didn’t know better he’d say the elf was dead but…
Well, he might as well be with the state he’s been in.
He walks around to place the tray on a nightstand, glancing over to where Aaravos laid. The elf stares blankly at the wall, not bothering to look up at Viren when he approaches.
“I brought you food," Viren says.
Golden irises that look so dull compared to the times Viren had seen them in the past finally moved to look at him. It was a slow glance, as if the effort it took to move his eyes was a great strain on him. He stares at Viren silently before his eyes fall back down to stare at the tray Viren had brought him. Viren can see how dull his eyes are, how dim the stars that used to shine so brightly upon his skin have become. It is extremely worrisome. It has been ever since he started this downward spiral. What ever happened to the elf who’d been full of vigor and life?
Again, Viren finds himself longing for things he’d previously taken for granted. What he wouldn’t give to see Aaravos smirk at him. Tease him for another stupid something he’d accidentally said. Hear his assured words full of confidence and power. Or to see his markings glow like they used to.
None of it happens of course. Instead, Aaravos simply rolls over, turning his back on the food Viren had brought in for him. It’s answer enough.
Viren frowns. “I’ll leave you be.” He leaves without any other words. Aaravos says nothing, but it’s what he expects.
Viren stops to take a deep inhale as he shuts the doors behind him. He runs a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels tired too. Exhausted, actually. But Aaravos had been good for about nothing the past weeks and somebody needed to keep pressing on when the other couldn’t. So press on he did, back down the hall to sit down and make himself eat a serving of the same meal he’d prepared.
It was odd to enter into this dimension he’d only ever seen through a plane of glass. Odd to finally get to see it from the inside. To be able to touch the items, the shelves and doors and books. Good lord there were so many books. They made for good pass times and good study when he wasn’t busying himself with other things.
The amount of things he could do here were limited, but he tried his best to fill his time lest he go mad from the boredom and stress nothingness brings with it.
He remembered once upon a time, having wanted to be able to enter into this strange, curious world he’d only ever been able to barely peek into. Now that he was here it was, well, not underwhelming. There was much to see he hadn’t expected to find within the space. The context put a damper on what should be an exciting new discovery , though.
He still remembers the day they got thrown into the mirror. It’s vivid in his mind, something he can’t forget.
Viren had never seen so much raw fear on Aaravos’ face before. The elf had struggled, violently so, when he saw the mirror they were being dragged towards. No’s and Not Again’ s spilled from his lips, his words angry, desperate, and horrified. Viren was too afraid to fight back the same way Aaravos was, too stunned by their loss and the elf’s display of outright terror to act out. He knew hardly anything about the mirror’s history or how it functioned, but he knew enough to know it wasn’t something he wanted to get stuck within. Someone as powerful as Aaravos being afraid of it was evidence enough of how horrendous it truly was.
And yet, there they were soon after, sprawled on the familiar marbled flooring, standing before an all too familiar mirror that quickly closed over, until all that was left was their horrified reflections staring back at them.
Viren had been hopeful at first. Too stubborn , or too disbelieving, to accept they were truly stuck t here. “Surely, someone will come for us!” He had said, when nothing he tried, magic or physical, made any dents in the mirror. “We won’t be left here forever!”
Aaravos shook violently where he still remained seated on the floor, face buried in his hands. He sobbed and it struck a cold, deep fear into Viren’s heart. “No one will come for us,” His voice came out strangled, choked by grief. “No one will come. No one ever comes.”
“Someone will!” He tried to insist. “Someone- My children. Claudia! Surely she will-”
“You do not GET IT, VIREN!" Aaravos had screamed the words, startling Viren into silence. He’d never heard the elf yell before, let alone with so much anguish in his tone. He turned to face him, standing as he was overcome with his emotion. “WE ARE BEING LEFT HERE TO DIE! WE ARE MEANT TO ROT AWAY HERE AND BE FORGOTTEN!” Viren had backed away as the elf screamed at him, Aaravos shaking as his eyes and stars glowed ever brighter with his feelings on a crescendo. Viren could see the tears that spilled down his cheeks, all poise and elegance forgotten. “NOBODY WILL COME FOR US!” Something seemed to hit him, and just as quickly as it came, the elf’s anger fell away, replaced by a broken expression. “Nobody will…” He shook again, and collapsed back onto the floor.
Viren held onto his hope for the first week. He knew how to activate the spell that let him see out of the mirror, so he kept coming back to watch and wait. Wait for something to happen. Anything.
The mirror had been moved to an area he didn’t recognize, no longer kept near where the dragons slept. The walls were stone, the room bland aside from a single door across from the mirror. In all his time spent watching throughout the first week, there was never any sign of activity. Nobody came to check on the mirror. The door didn’t budge. He slowly came to the conclusion that the prison they were trapped in had two layers of security: The mirror itself, and the new door that cut the mirror off from the outside world.
His hope waned, and he tried to hold onto it. The next week was spent searching through the books lining the walls and trying more spells to break through the mirror. It was pointless to keep trying, and a part of him had known this from the start, but he kept going anyway. He didn't get this far in life for lack of being stubborn.
The third week…
Well you could probably guess.
He sits now over the food he’d made, picking mindlessly at it. He's grown groggy with exhaustion and the inevitable depression that’s been sneaking up on him. He refuses to give in to it. Not yet. Not when Aaravos is already in a pitiful state. What would become of them both if he too caved to the sorrows that hang in the air around them?
Despite giving up on his attempts to break through the mirror for now, he still clings onto a small hope that Claudia will come for him. Surely, if nobody else does, she will… right?
He remembers again, the time after she revived him. Her eyes never meeting his. How tired she was. How she never smiled anymore. And then, those months after before she…
He bites his tongue and pulls himself away from the thoughts. He can’t think about that. He has to trust she’ll come back. If she doesn’t, he’s unsure what he will do.
The days pass slowly here. He spends his time exploring what all the rooms have to offer. The main room has plenty of books to read through, though there's many in ancient languages he can't decipher. There's the bedroom Aaravos hasn't moved from in days, and the kitchen Viren had slowly been becoming more familiar with. The other rooms he needs to commit more time to exploring. One set of doors opens into a luscious, indoor garden. If it weren't for the visible ceiling and walls, Viren would have thought he'd stepped outside. The floor was covered in grass, and all sorts of plantlife and small critters fill the room wall to wall.
Another room appears to be a study of sorts, complete with journals and a desk. Viren opened a few out of curiosity and found several blank, yet to be used. Others were filled with scrawling notes. Some were written with patience and elegance, but others were scribbled messily onto pages surrounding diagrams and drawings Viren couldn't begin to explain the meaning of. He had to assume it was Aaravos' writing. There's one he finds, tucked in the desk drawer, that is filled with drawings of a woman. She's human, and Viren certainly doesn't recognize her, but she fills page after page. She varies in ages across the pages as well, ranging from a child to a young adult depending which page he opened to. He doesn't know what to make of it, but he gets the distinct feeling that it's something he shouldn't be looking through and carefully tucks the journal away again.
There's a bathroom, as elegant and beautifully crafted as the rest of the rooms. The bath itself is larger and more ornate than many he'd seen. It's dipped into the flooring and always filled with warm water. He can sense it's magically imbued in some way. He assumes it's self cleaning and keeping itself at a comfortable temperature. There's various bath salts and soaps lining the edge of the wall near the bath, but they appear untouched. He wonders if Aaravos needs to bathe.
There's one more room, but it's empty. He doesn't know what to make of it, assumes it's for the sake of letting whoever is trapped there have some freedom with at least one of the rooms. He leaves it be after that.
Other curiosities include the fireplace in the main room, tucked between the thousands of books lining the shelves. It never goes out unless someone puts it out, so it's easy to deduce it too is magically imbued. He's curious about the windows in the same room. There's nothing to be seen from them but a white light that shines through them during what he assumes is the day, and then darkens during the night. The windows don't break, don't even scratch, he'd already tried. He sits and stares out of them time to time, hoping to see something new in the white void, but he's always met with nothingness.
Then there's the balcony in Aaravos' room. The only place he'd count as being "outside", but even that's questionable. It's possible to walk out onto the balcony, but the sight isn't much. The white void sits in a haze around it as well, the only thing of interest being the ground beneath the balcony. It appears to be stone, and a thin layer of water covers it. It's not far beneath the balcony, and Viren wonders what would happen if someone were to step onto it. Could someone walk into the whiteness? What happened then? He's yet to test any theories, not wanting to intrude in Aaravos' space for longer than necessary.
Part of him wants to try and help. Offer the elf some form of comfort, even if he wouldn't accept it. The other part of him is stubborn and angry. How dare Aaravos mope about, like this wasn't his fault in the first place? The conflicting feelings keep him from trying anything, so instead he brings Aaravos necessities such as food and otherwise keeps his distance.
Honestly, he's not sure if Aaravos need to eat. But in his own conflicting emotions, doing the bare minimum for the elf helps him feel better about himself in some ways.
He'd taken to sleeping on what he assumes to be a couch pressed against the wall beside the windows. It's larger and more elegant than other couches he'd seen before, which is the trend everything seems to follow in this place, so at least its not horrendously uncomfortable.
One morning, he woke and realized with a startled jump that Aaravos was in the room. He looked pitiful, sat by the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a book resting in his lap. He looks as dead inside as he has every other time Viren's seen him, and he rests with his head leant against the wall next to the fireplace, as if he wasn't strong enough to support the weight of it on his own.
Viren is unsure what to say when he sees him, so he instead remains silent and stares. He probably looks like an idiot, but Aaravos isn't looking at him.
"How did watching the mirror go?" Aaravos asks quietly. His voice sounds weak and raw, as if he'd just been crying.
Viren frowns and tries not to get frustrated all over again. "I think you can make an educated guess," He spits out, more tense than he intended to sound.
"Ohhh yes of course. I'm sure you'd be long gone if your precious daughter had shown up." Aaravos sounds extremely bitter. One of his hands tightens around the book as he speaks.
"What are you implying?" Viren stands from the couch, brows drawn together. He shouldn't be getting angry, but he's had three weeks of frustrations and depression building up, and the emotions had to come out eventually.
"Don't act like you would want anything to do with me after this!" Some of Aaravos' exhaustion is forgotten as he raises his voice back at him. He's still not looking at him. "Just a lowly elf who failed and got you trapped in a prison!"
Some part of Viren recognizes the self deprecation. The rest of him is too caught up in his emotions to dwell on it. "It's not like you've been exactly helpful the past several weeks!"
"What do you expect me to do?!" Aaravos spins, getting to his feet and letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. He looks so angry. So sad. "Do you I think I stayed here for centuries last time just for fun?! Because this place is sooo pleasant to be trapped inside?!"
"Well it's not just you trapped in here anymore!" Viren yells, and it gives Aaravos pause, eyes going wide.
The elf sways where he stands, all of his anger fueled energy visibly draining out of him. "I'm sorry," He sighs out shakily, a hand coming to his face. "I'm sorry, I-" He sinks slowly back to the floor, leaning against the wall once more. "I'm scared , Viren." The words come out delicately, a raw admission of his true feelings that snaps Viren out of the emotion induced rage he'd been in.
It hits harder than it should. Viren knows Aaravos is afraid, but hearing it aloud makes him realize how scared he is too. He knows he should say something. Apologize. He doesn't. Silently he walks over to the fireplace and sits across it from Aaravos. The elf still has his face in his hand, and Viren can see the way his shoulders shake.
Viren can't bring himself to give any words of comfort, but he can sit there with him until the elf stops shaking. So sit there he does.