Seakur Thrayah came in one evening, on the day the young elven child turned seven. It was just shortly before the time for Fannar's father to hold a very important feast within the dining hall downstairs. It appeared that the feudal lord was expecting guests; other noble lords from nearby neighbouring lands to the west. The kindly carer smiled warmly down at the young boy as she spoke softly. Her long, silky black hair slowly slipped across her shoulder and in front of her face; her pale skin looked far more human-like when compared to Fannar’s. The elven woman’s eyes thinned with endearment as she gently laid a gloved hand on the boy’s head.

"Your father wishes to invite you to the meeting with the other lords, Fannar. Do you think you will be able to come?" She asked as she respectfully knelt down to speak with him on his level.

Fannar’s face filled with surprise as he looked towards his caretaker. This would be the first time the two would have met, at least, to his knowledge and memory. Never before had he seen his father outside of portraits he had been shown before. Fannar felt nervous; however, his newfound and rising desire to meet his new father in this new world soon took over his doubt. He felt encouraged. After all these years being cared for and treated so kindly by Seakur Thrayah, perhaps this was finally a sign that he’d become worthy enough to see the person who’d let him stay in this manor for so long. This was it. Now, he was finally seen as capable enough to attend thanks to the guidance and teaching of his dearest caretaker, and friend. His progress in his studies must have begun to shine as something to be seen as enough to repay his father back, even if only in a small way. It felt like he’d achieved something great. Something that might finally bring further meaning and worth to his previously pitiful, and empty existence.

"Yes, I do! I would love to accept father's invitation!" Fannar finally replied, after some thought. His tone seemed confident and his eyes were lit with anticipation.

Soon, Seakur Thrayah helped him dress into new, more suitable attire for the occasion. They felt rather uncomfortable to wear, however. It wasn't because of the fabric. No. The garments were incredibly soft and warm, and almost felt tailor made to fit him perfectly. They were just so fine and expensive in appearance. He was truly grateful for being allowed to wear them, but felt undeserving, and it felt so unusual. Fannar felt rather overdressed; as if he was only deepening his sensation of being an imposter, and the one who stood in the mirror was meant to be somebody else. He still couldn't truly fit into his new life of nobility, even after all these years. The young boy still held these dark, twisting feelings within his psyche, that somehow he had stolen something truly important from… Someone. He just wasn’t sure who. It almost felt like everyone in both his old and new worlds at times. At others, he wondered if it was the soul of this bodies’ original host. Had he stolen the vessel another life was supposed to have been given? Somebody's family?

Pushing down and bottling those thoughts once more, slowly, as he exited the small room, the young boy began to see parts of his new home that he'd never seen before. Inching forward as he unconsciously held one of the fingers belonging to Seakur Thrayah, who followed behind him. It felt alien. Yet, it was also exciting and new. He examined the wallpaper of this new hallway. The paper felt like it was far newer than the one in his bedroom, as if freshly coated on not too long ago. His eyes sparkled at the brightly ornate staircase railing that glimmered a bright gold. They appeared to be engraved masterfully with his family sigil; and as he began to examine his surroundings even closer, he realised it was faintly intertwined with the patterns on the walls. It was even used as a signature in some of the large, hanging portraits of his father and his ancestors. It was like the entire house was reminding you that it belonged to a noble and powerful lord who ruled over a part of the land. One who truly treasured their heritage and most likely embodied the true teachings of their bloodline. Fannar couldn’t bear to even think of touching anything else as he descended down the staircase. It would be horrible to dirty it, or try to take away the beauty of this home.

As he soon reached the bottom, the faint whispers of unfamiliar voices soon grew silent as Fannar laid eyes on the nobles who were all sat at the grand dining table. They all seemed to be awaiting their food to arrive. Empty glasses and plates decorated the beautifully adorned dining room. The boy suddenly realised that he had absolutely no idea who to even look for when it came to his new father. He'd never met the man. His father in this new world had never visited him during his time growing up, and all the paintings and illustrations of him seemed to be from the noble lord’s childhood, up to a very early stage of his adulthood. Nothing seemed recent enough to surely match his new age. That's when he noticed something truly startling. There he sat. A young-looking man with long, pointed ears like Fannar's, with the same hair colour, and tall physique. He hadn't aged even slightly compared to the paintings he'd seen of his father in those books. Nor the pictures Seakur Thrayah had shown him. Not only that, but he was the only one amongst them who seemed to even share the trait of having pure white hair and blood red eyes like his own. It truly took him aback that his father seemed to have not aged even a day. It struck him again, far more effectively than before, that this world was home to many that weren’t human. Or, what Fannar considered truly 'human’', anyway. Not a single man at that table looked that much older than at least twenty or so. Swallowing his doubts, he approached this man and subconsciously bowed his head in respect.

"I thank you deeply for your invitation to this event sir, I humbly accept your offer." He spoke in the most clear and polite tone he could muster past his nerves.

However, just as he was starting to anxiously wonder if he should have said 'father' instead of 'sir', he saw a look of surprise fill the man's face as the rest of the room had broken into sudden laughter. All the other men chuckled and smiled heartily, the ones sat closest to the host of the meeting even patting the man's shoulders merrily, or elbowing him playfully with teasing grins. The woman behind him having a small giggle at the sight as well, using this as her que to leave the room and attend to her other duties. Relieved that the two would not suddenly start a fight or be overly tense around each other despite their long separation.

"Well! What a wonderfully polite little gentleman you have there Lord Cathal!" One of the shorter, ginger-haired men exclaimed.

"Quite! My lads could learn to have some respect from him!" Another remarked joyfully.

He hadn't realised it yet, but Fannar had broken some troublesome ice to help lighten the mood from a rather tricky discussion they'd had prior to his entrance. His father's surprised face soon changed to one filled with a sense of pride as he smiled and made room for the boy to sit beside him. Fannar soon sat down quickly in response and politely returned the smile towards him in a pleasant manner. The boy’s hesitation dissolved quickly. He felt a strong sense of acceptance and relief from this exchange. He hadn't been sure about their relationship, or what his father thought of him, as he'd never come to visit him. He'd never really thought to ask if he could exit his room to meet the lord, either. However, he understood that his father was most likely an extremely busy man, surely very hard-working as well, considering he was the sole leader of this quaint fiefdom. He had to manage his people, the money, and possibly countless other things Fannar couldn't even manage having to shoulder the burden of. It was the same in his previous life, as well. The city bustled as many suits carried their cases of work to and from work as they kept themselves and their families afloat. Fannar understood their fear of becoming like him. He’d never resented them. No. He would put the past aside. It was disrespectful to keep thinking back on that life, especially in front of his father. In front of all the noblemen who’d taken the time to attend. To Seakur Thrayah, aswell. He was simply grateful enough to the man for giving him food and shelter, not to mention his fine clothes and the company of Thrayah for all these years. It was like a blessing from heaven itself to finally live a life of quiet comfort after all those rough nights in the cold streets of- No, this wasn’t the time. But, then again, it was of... Uhm. His mind drew a blank. It was strange. He couldn't quite remember the name of the city anymore. It kept escaping his mind. However, that was for the best. it wasn't likely that he'd ever have to think about it again. It was better to forget that life. After all, this was his new life now. Those cold, isolating nights were behind him. He wouldn’t ever be left alone. This world was different. Right? Right. Yeah. It was. This time was different.

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"Young master?" An unfamiliar voice rang out after the soft sound of metal and china clinking against the wooden table reached past the young boy's thoughts.

"Hm?" The boy's head perked up slightly.

Fannar’s blood red eyes searched upwards and behind himself, towards a much more human-looking man dressed in rather simple clothes. Even more so compared to the ones Fannar had worn in his room usually. But, they did seem slightly more worn and frayed than his own were. Their ears were small and rounded, they seemed slightly older in appearance to the noblement at the table as well. His dark hair was short, almost as dark as Seakur Thrayah’s, but at the same time feeling more natural to the boy. He’d almost started to miss seeing the faint flecks of other colours of dark browns that were also prevalent in the hair of his old body. The man’s hair also seemed rather similarly unkempt and slightly unclean, which made him grow slightly uncomfortable. Not because he felt disgust or that he wanted to avoid them, but because it felt hauntingly familiar. A name began to edge across the edge of his tongue again from the darker reaches of his mind. No. He didn’t want to remember it. There was nothing to remember. He was just surprised to see an actual human. That was surely it.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you quite alright, young master?" The tall, dark-haired man asked. His dark green eyes meeting with the child's.

Something seemed very unusual about the sudden pause between them both as Fannar's eyes widened. Slowly, he brushed a lock of white hair away from his pale face, still stunned at the sight of another being with perfectly human ears. But, even moreso, what really struck him now was the look in the man's eyes. His pupils were twisted, faltering, and unstable. Filled with desperation, and yet, vacant of soul or willingness. Yes. He remembered. He knew this look in the thin man's eyes. In fact, without truly realising it himself, he was giving the exact same look back. He'd known those eyes. Those terrified, trembling eyes. He'd lived those intense, unnerving emotions for years. The boy had started to unconsciously mimic them. Those dark, horrible feelings oozed up from his burning stomach and into his dry throat.

Why...

Why? Why was there somebody like that here? In this world? This home? Wasn't this world supposed to be different? Why? He was just imagining it. It wasn’t the same here. This is different. His heart began to race as he slightly gripped the tablecloth.

"W-Why, yes. I am quite alright, thank you, sir." The boy managed to reply with an uncomfortable and nervous smile.

Why were this young boy's eyes so familiar? The human thought.

"That...” His gaze strayed to the other noblemen, whose faces were starting to turn sour again at their conversation.

“That is very good, young master. You need not be so formal with me. I am just a humble servant.”

It was extremely strange, especially for the son of a wealthy lord, for any elf to speak to him like this. It took him completely by surprise. But it made him wonder more.

Could it be? The older man couldn’t believe it.

Even this cruel man's own son? He felt appalled just by the thought.

To their own kind?

The servant's grip on the remaining plates he held tightened slightly as he pushed those thoughts down. Trying to stifle his own smile, that he returned towards Fannar, from becoming twisted with a dark excitement. After all, it'd all be over soon. He'd have his revenge. For himself, for his family, for his kind. For the people of his own impoverished land that fed the filthy, corrupted men that sat at this table. The dark-haired man was new to this land owned by Lord Cathal, but he was certain it must be very much like his own. All lords were the same. He knew they were. They would never be able to change their greedy ways. Especially his own lord, who sat on the very opposite end of the table with his disgusting grin, already itching to stuff his irritatingly fowl face. Dragging him around like some stray dog on a chain for a leash-

A small hand seemed to suddenly wrap itself around his wrist as his thoughts stopped. Flinching for a moment as he looked down.

The young boy was exchanging another glance with him again.

"You're not." Fannar raised his voice.

"Huh?" The man mumbled as he looked down warily at the small child.

"You're not a servant, right?" Fannar smiled warmly, though his trembling eyes likely gave his rising fear of the older man away.

"You're just helping for a second, and then you’re joining the rest of us, right? You’re not a servant. Y-You’re… Another new friend." His smile faltered and could barely keep itself formed as it wavered across his face. Fannar’s clenched fist trembled.

"What is this sudden nonsense?!" The lord the servant had just been glaring at suddenly blustered as he slammed onto the table.

Fannar's father cleared his throat and gave a stern look towards the lord, making the other man startled and quiet. Slowly, they sat back down into their chair in silence. However, the rage had not left his face, and his mood seemed to be spreading to the others across the table.

"After all." Despite his crackling voice, the boy's eyes softened with his father's help.

"You're the one making my first meal that I may share with my dear father, right? That makes me really happy.” The tears started to well up in his eyes as he pulled the human closer to him, as if trying to stay strong and not let them spill as he spoke.

“I've gotten to meet so many new people today, important, special new friends. That includes you. Right?" His smile even managed to finally straighten out, as well. It was genuine. His eyes clinging on to a shine of innocent, naive hope.

"I, uh, young-" The dark-haired man mumbled, similarly becoming a bit shaken up from the exchange. Amazed that the rich man’s son would even want to hold his tattered shirt.

"Fannar." He finally released the human's wrist.

"Yes, Fannar." The servant managed to smile back, a pure look of surprise having washed over his face. "It’s- It’s an honor to meet you as well."

Who was this boy? Was he really of nobility? He couldn't possibly be. But yet, here he was. How?

There wasn't time to think about it. The servant soon left the room again after catching a glimpse of his lord's outraged, blood-red face, swallowing his rising fears of what he was about to have to do. He'd never even held doubts about his plans before this very moment. He'd simply be adding a little twist to his lord's wicked plot to grab more power, to fuel his own revenge. But, could he still do it? Could he do that to a child like Fannar? An elf that had finally seen him as another living being? Somebody who might even be able to begin to understand his pain? His suffering? His torture? Could...

Could he…

Kill him?