The Daemon's Tale Ch. 02

Thank you all so much for the warm reception to the beginning of this story. It was indeed a short start because I intended it only to set up the scene for Gabriel's future behaviour, but the chapters should be longer from here on in. I hope you enjoy this one.

~Archer~

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It was a warm day in early spring when a hunting Daemon trailed to a stop outside the gates of the Faerie Council. He had not meant to come here, or to stop at all. Lost in the mind of a predator and driven solely by instinct he didn't have to think or more importantly, feel. The pain dulled to a barely registered ache and he could push the memories aside to live in the moment.

But the gates had distracted him. Somewhere in the fog of predatory instinct a half-formed thought registered. He'd been meaning to come here, hadn't he? Slowly the fog cleared and as the Daemon straightened from his hunting crouch he became less Daemonic, more human in appearance. His eyes brightened to resplendent teal, his fangs and claws retracted. He remained streaked with dirt and animal blood of course, but as his conscious self crawled unwillingly back he became recognisable once more. Gabriel Jhaedaes Os Tar, the Daemon Lord, had returned from more than a month lost somewhere in the wilderness where he had been unable to be contacted and unable to be found.

Unlike the humans, the Faerie's did not post guards at their gates. Magic protected the curved wooden structure instead such that only those who knew the charm would be able to enter. Gabriel used his teeth to tear a small wound in his palm and pressed it against the gate which promptly swung open and admitted him without question. The Faerie's had allowed such a feat to the Daemon Lord, trusting of his intentions and to allow political matters to be undertaken with ease.

Today though it was a slightly dazed, injured and noticeably weary Daemon that trudged down their silver paths lined with silvery trees. The Faerie's lived in wooden structures, shaping the trees with their clever magic without ever damaging or killing them. To these creatures the Forest was their life source and its health was vital to their own. Gabriel ignored most of the dwellings and their inhabitants though, passing by azure-winged Fairies and solemn Elves without a second glance. Not only was he too familiar with their whimsical appeal to be moved by the atmosphere of this place and these people, but the pain that came with the memories was now fresh at the forefront of his mind. The crack of a breaking neck echoed in his head and dead hazel eyes obscured his vision. How could one appreciate the beauty and magic here when death filled their mind?

Nonetheless Gabriel knew the Faeries would give him a place to stay. They would welcome his presence and he could pass the time in discussions with the Council, receive updates on the state of the war, report back about the Daemon race. He could stay here as long as he liked, he knew, in the company of pretty and magical creatures. He could stay until he healed, perhaps, and more than just physically. The Faeries were fascinated by the charming, powerful Daemon Lord; moved by his powers of persuasion, captivated by his striking appearance. Here he could learn to remember her with fondness rather than with anger and grief.

"Gabriel. It has been a long time, my friend." The Fairy that greeted him was close to one thousand years old and despite the silver streaks in his bright red hair and laughter lines around his eyes and mouth, he still retained the distinctive beauty of his kind. His features were sharp and angular and he was delicate in build. Deep red and cream wings arched over his slightly stooped back, shaped like those of an exotic butterfly and azure in the dappled sunshine. He wore flowing cream robes and carried an oak cane, which he leaned on as he reached his other hand to clasp Gabriel's shoulder welcomingly.

"Too long," Gabriel agreed, inclining his head briefly in greeting. The Fairy was Tiran, the Council Elder, most magically powerful of the entire Faerie race and as such essentially their leader. "Forgive me, son, but you are not looking your usual dapper self." "I've had some...trouble, lately." Gabriel did not elaborate because he could not bring himself to speak the words aloud. Fortunately Tiran could read his need for privacy quite easily and did not press for further information. "Your usual quarters are being readied as we speak, Gabriel. I thought from the state of you that you might like to stay a while." "That would be appreciated Tiran. I expect to be in the Forest for the foreseeable future and I could do with somewhere like this right now." Gabriel's voice, normally slightly gravelly and velvety and yet another potent source of enchantment, was now lacklustre and unenthusiastic. Katherine's death had affected him to his very core and Tiran was alarmed to see his old friend lacking so many of the quirks that had defined him. A once brash, charismatic Daemon, Gabriel now seemed defeated. It was a dramatic change.

"Take as much time as you need." Gabriel thanked the old Fairy wordlessly when he returned the affectionate pat on the shoulder as he walked past, winding his way deeper into the labyrinth that formed the Faerie stronghold within the Forest. His room was located at the very top of a silver birch, the windows uncovered and open to the elements in order to prevent him feeling claustrophobic. Daemons valued freedom over anything else and being walled in was very uncomfortable. This was why his room in the city had not had glazed windows, he reflected with a slight jolt. This was why the Vampire had been able to reach Katherine without waking him. His own Daemonic weapons might not have killed her but in the end his Daemon nature had allowed it.

A frustrated growl escaped his throat as the macabre thoughts took hold once more. Now that he was back in control, a consciously functioning Daemon rather than an instinctive predator, he couldn't seem to quell them. Images and ideas clogged his thought processes and demanded his attention. It was utterly exhausting and each thought, each picture brought a fresh stab of agony. Having already used one avenue of escape by living wild and unencumbered by conscious processes for over a month, Gabriel knew he needed another escape. Fortunately, that escape beckoned to him the moment he stepped into his familiar room.

Sparsely furnished and very simple, the circular room that was open to the gentle breeze and fading sunlight was almost entirely dominated by a huge four poster bed placed directly in the centre. Deep red coverings were the only colour in the room and though he noticed vaguely that it was about the colour of blood, it had never seemed so welcoming. He collapsed onto it without bothering to clean the evidence of weeks of hunting and living in the Forest away, too troubled and tired to even dress into something other than the now tattered black cotton pants that were his only attire. Within seconds sleep claimed him -- not the pleasant drifting kind full of playful dreams, but the soundless black of physical and mental exhaustion. He sunk into it without trying to fight it. Here, he might find some relief.

xxx

Warm sunlight fell liberally over his face and chest and never had a sensation felt more pleasant. He stirred and stretched languidly, almost cat-like in his movements, but did not open his eyes. For some reason he thought he might be dreaming, that the peace and pleasantness of this moment somehow could not be a part of his reality. Just in case he decided not to look around; if he was awake then something told him he should try to sink back into the warm refuge of sleep.

Why, though? Why should he need to fall back to sleep so urgently? Because the need was pressing now but rather than being able to fulfil that need, he now felt uneasy. A half-formed darkness hovered at the edge of his consciousness and he knew he shouldn't feel so peaceful, even with the pleasantness of the morning sun bringing him gently back into the world of the awake.

Katherine.

With a choked gasp Gabriel sat bolt upright, clawed hands tearing the sheets. He looked around himself wildly for a moment because he didn't recognise his surroundings but flooding back now were all the memories, all the unwanted feelings. Katherine was dead. He'd failed to protect her. And he was reliving her loss in his head over and over again, hundreds of times each waking, conscious minute. Any peacefulness he'd felt drained away so quickly he felt ill. And all of a sudden, he was exhausted again.

He contemplated slipping back into the dark relief of sleep. It would be easy to do so, with this heavy tiredness weighing him down as though actual, physical bonds restrained his normally boundless energy. His vitality seemed to have drained away though, killed at the same time Katherine was by the calculated strength of one of his own. Even the risk of nightmares couldn't quite deter him. However at the same time he sank back onto the now ruined bedding and allowed his eyes to slide shut came two soft taps on his door. Damn the Gods.

Gabriel let out a soft growl and dragged himself from the sanctuary of the bed. Normally volatile and dramatic when angered, today there was no storming across the room to snarl at the disturbance. Instead his pace was lethargic and his shoulders were slumped as he trudged over to open the door, with even the fresh spring-scented breeze flowing unheeded through his glassless windows failing to enliven him. A loud click accompanied his opening of the door and Gabriel turned dull teal eyes to look at the intruder.

An Elf. She was almost as tall as him, unusual for a woman though less so among her kind, with copper-brown hair and soft blue eyes. Like all Elves she was elegant and aristocratic in her appearance with symmetrical, elegant features that had a slight exotic slant. A few light brown freckles dusted her nose, an unusual feature among the Faeries, but it did not detract from the whimsical beauty she shared with all of her kind. They were so different to the Daemons, these natives of this world; attractive in a delicate, magic-infused way where his kind were striking, attention-grabbing and dramatic. Her colours, like the other Faeries, were soft and pretty, for instance; earthy brown in her hair, faded blue in her eyes, the dusky gold of her skin. He stood out here for this reason -- his hair a theatrical black, his skin stunning silver, his eyes too-bright teal.

He knew her purpose for coming immediately; her robes were the colour of new grass so she couldn't be anything other than a healer. Only then did Gabriel remember the wound the vampire had inflicted on his shoulder, a wound which had been untended for over a month and bathed in dirt for most of that time. Sure enough, a glance at the relevant shoulder confirmed an infection had settled in.

"Sorry to disturb you, Jhaedaes, but Tiran sent me to treat your wounds. He thought you might have slept enough to put up with me, just for a little while." Her smile was disarmingly sweet. Gabriel had grown used to the Elves being aloof, studious creatures with little interest in wasting time in conversation, but this woman's easy manner and charm suggested otherwise. "Call me Gabriel," he replied shortly. A little bluntly too -- he hadn't meant to be rude but his humour was far from regained. Charming though this Elf was, he couldn't seem to muster the energy to be his usual charming self in return. "How long have I been sleeping?" "It is the third morning after the day you arrived," she replied, brushing past him without waiting for an invitation. The state of the wound must have surpassed her need to be deferent. Several days then, Gabriel realised. It seemed impossible that he still felt tired and yet the weight pressing down on mind and spirit was as relentless as it was undeniable.

"You scarcely look rested though, Gabriel," she observed, catching his face in one slender hand to peer into his eyes. Startled by the invasion of personal space he tried to step back, only to find the wall behind him. The Elf was all business it seemed, intent on assessing and restoring his health regardless of his lack of tolerance for her attentions right now. Her manner remained gently concerned and quiet however and the Daemon had to admit she was well suited to her role of healer. Despite his impatience she was soothing to be around.

"Sit, please." Gabriel sat on the ornately carved chair which was the only other piece of furniture in his room so the Elf would be able to easily treat his wounds. He watched as she prepared tinctures and cleansers which were then applied to the several small cuts and grazes obtained from his weeks living roughly in the Forest. She hummed and whistled as she worked, thankfully not a particularly chirpy tune but a pretty one, melodious and unmistakably written by the Faeries. Yes, she was rather soothing. For the first time since Katherine's death Gabriel was surprised to find himself experiencing a few waking minutes in which he was reasonably relaxed.

The Elf worked quickly, frowning slightly at the sorry state of the Daemon Lord as she did so. He was still a handsome man, no doubt about that, but his characteristic spark was absent. She'd never spoken to him before since he'd never needed a healer of her calibre until now but even from a distance his vitality and charisma had been obvious. This man sitting so still and quiet as her gentle hands worked their magic could have been an entirely different Daemon altogether if it wasn't for those distinctive bright teal eyes. None of them knew what had happened to reduce Gabriel to such a state but she knew it must have been terrible to have such an effect on the resilient, powerful Daemon. Nothing but great failure or tragedy could have wrought such a devastating change.

When she finally turned her attentions to the shoulder wound Gabriel didn't so much as flinch despite the angry redness of the injury and the burgeoning infection it supported. She could tell he was watching her but it was as though part of him was far away. She cleaned it thoroughly and stitched the ragged holes left by what must have been claws, but she didn't ask how he'd received it. It was easy enough for even someone less sensitive to Gabriel's withdrawn, suppressed emotions that it was not something he would divulge indiscriminately, if he ever divulged at all. She was beginning to worry that the Daemon Lord was changed forever.

She finished her task by bandaging his shoulder and instructing him to make sure he kept it dry when he bathed. Gabriel only nodded, compliant enough to obey her instructions but devoid of any stronger emotion. Worry gnawed at her thoughts as she packed her things but what more could she do? Something awful had clearly happened to Gabriel and although she was a talented healer there was nothing she could do to ease that kind of pain. But as she left she clasped his hand briefly, a gesture of support for the stricken Daemon, one that caused him to meet her gaze with surprise in his eyes. A final gentle smile was all she could offer him before leaving the room to return to him his privacy.

"Wait." The Elf paused and turned to see Gabriel lingering uncertainly in his doorway, seemingly warring with some internal discomfort. She waited silently, encouragement in her expression. "What's your name?" "Vaern," she replied with a smile, before walking silently away.

xxx

After washing properly for the first time in weeks in the gilded bath that was in the small room adjoining his main one, Gabriel tried to spend more time sleeping. He tossed and turned fitfully for the next twenty four hours but the little sleep he did get was plagued by nightmares of pale-haired Vampires and dying orange trees. He punctuated these stretches of disturbed dozing with agitated pacing of the confines of his room, frustrated and unable to escape his thoughts but unwilling to leave and find a distraction. This room had become a crutch; both hated and needed, the one stable constant in a life that had been torn asunder and yet a prison thanks to his own insecurity. Somehow Vaern had broken through his lethargy and awoken his anger. Slowly, Gabriel's old fire was reigniting and beginning to smoulder.

At the same time as the previous day the same two knocks broke through his agitation and his lonely, increasingly wild thoughts. Today he flung the door open and glared at Vaern with darkly burning eyes, his temper obviously frayed and his patience very short. If she was alarmed by the dramatic change that had overcome the Daemon Lord since she'd last visited she didn't show it though. She offered him the same sweet smile and open, friendly expression and instructed him to sit. He did so reluctantly in his agitated state.

"You're looking much better Gabriel," she noted, once again applying a mixture of herbs to the smaller cuts and bruises adorning his body. "I don't feel it," he snapped, in no mood to allow her soothing nature to calm him. The thoughts of Katherine and her death had been pressing and heavy yesterday but today they crashed through his mind with careless abandon, each a swirling reminder of his pain. The dull ache that had clogged his throat was now a sharp stabbing somewhere deep in his chest and his inability to find an escape even in sleep frustrated him. He was not used to feeling powerless, to being unable to solve his problems. Gabriel had always been in control before this. It was not Vaern's fault but her initial visit had jolted him out of his apathy and into a stage of grief he was even less equipped to deal with, and he reacted with a predictable shortness of temper.

He found no comfort in her deft treatment today. She changed the dressing and thoroughly cleaned his shoulder injury while he sat rigidly, every muscle tense. She noted his stress in the taut cords of tendon running along his neck and clenched fists, could almost feel the anger rolling off him. Though he was still far from himself Vaern was at least a little relieved that the dull, unreacting creature of the previous day was gone. He might be changed forever but even this simmering fury was better than lifeless lethargy.

She worked quicker than she normally would have this time. Vaern was no helpless woman but Gabriel looked like he might snap any moment, and being a Daemon could easily revert to his predatory nature and do some damage. Against him she wouldn't stand a chance -- he wasn't the Daemon Lord for nothing -- and she had no desire to be around when he vented his frustrations. She quickly bandaged his shoulder and packed away her equipment, but before she left she gently cupped Gabriel's face in both elegant, gentle hands and caught his coldly burning gaze. "The pain won't last forever, Daemon Lord. I promise." Then swiftly she turned and left.

Gabriel stared after her, momentarily stunned into motionlessness. She knew. She might not know all the details but there was understanding in those kind hazel eyes, an expression far preferable to pity which he had not found in her countenance. Somehow she had guessed the cause of his pain was lost love; this he could sense. For a moment he allowed the relief to wash over him, allowed himself to believe her earnest promise, even wondered if she had experienced something like his tragedy to speak so surely of recovery. Just for a moment, a fleeting second, Gabriel found peace.

But he was still a Daemon. The moment passed and the anger returned with a vengeance. After sitting still and restraining every taut muscle as the Elf had treated him Gabriel had reached the end of his already shaken self control and white hot fury rolled over his body in almost tangible waves. He was lost, and an ear-shattering roar from his tower caused Vaern to pause at the bottom of the stairs and turn frightened eyes back the way she had come.