#malvalen

Dearest brother,

It has been quite some time since we've been together - almost forty years? What a pleasant surprise to find that you've your own village, and under such a fitting name. I've even heard talk that it may become a kingdom soon, and what a fine king you would be indeed.

I know that we've had our quarrels in the past, but I truly wish to make amends. I've changed, brother. I'm not the haughty brat I once was, and while I know you may not offer forgiveness, I ask only to be able to see you once more, to apologize for my wrongdoings.

You may not like to see me as I am, but physically blind as I may be, my transformation has helped open my eyes more than you could imagine. I hope that you can accept me as I am now - then again, you always had the bigger heart of the two of us.

I hope that your son and his wife are well. It is my wish to make amends with them also; I was rather terrible to them before, but I've learned and have seen the error of my ways.

I look forward to seeing you soon, my wonderful brother.

With love, Anaxandyr Sunspeaker

Aomaho looked up from the letter and knitted his brow slightly. "Do you recognize this name, Mal?" he inquired, though it was an unnecessary question. He could feel his partner through their link, sorting through his memories to find any trace of an "Anaxandyr."

Shaking his head, the priest let out a quiet sigh and rubbed at his eye. Both of them could feel his emotions welling up, but of course, thanks to Mal'valen's unliving state, no tears fell. "He's looking for my grandfather," he responded quietly. "But... I don't remember any mention of my father having an uncle..."

"Probably because of what was mentioned in this," Aomaho remarked, waving the letter a bit. "If he is in need of welcoming, then we shall do so, especially if he is disabled like that."

A small part of Mal'valen worried that Anaxandyr was contacting him - well, the person he thought was his brother - because of the financial benefits that might accompany him. He knew nothing of his great uncle and grandfather's relationship except what was written in the letter - in fact, he realized, the Elven side of his family was mostly shrouded in mystery. He knew only that he was named for his grandfather, and that was that.

Approximately eight years in the future...

Though a small and relatively new Kingdom in the grand scheme of Azeroth, Sun’s Peak had grown steadily, with new citizens joining them on a weekly basis. They came from all walks of life, for the most part escaping the horrors and tragedies of the Alliance and Horde conflicts. All were considered exiles from their societies, and as such, Mal'valen and Aomaho welcomed them to their home with open, loving arms.

In the wake of all this, they had decided that, once a month, they would hold a special ceremony to welcome the newcomers - a baptism of sorts. They had built a generously sized cathedral, which was used for all manner of services and celebrations. Current citizens, young and old, filled the seats facing the altar, while those who had joined within the past month moved to the front of the sanctuary, kneeling in reverence.

People of all races were present, both amongst the newest civilians and the veterans. Of the new, there were several Draenei, a Human, a Dwarf, both High and Blood Elves, and two Trolls with their child. Most had been drawn to Sun’s Peak by friends who were citizens already, though a couple found them just through murmurs and rumors about the neutral kingdom.

It was dusk, and the candles in the sanctuary remained unlit, leaving the hall dark except for the dim rays of waning sunlight that seeped through the elegant stained-glass windows depicting the arrival of the Naaru. As the ceremony began, a gently swaying melody played on piano began nearby, and the instrument and musician - Aomaho - were slowly illuminated. Next to the piano stood a half-Draenei boy of no more than twelve, his son Rond'theron, holding a violin, and Mal'valen’s younger sister Kal'theraa, with some percussive instruments: a drum, tambourine, and a shaker.

Mal'valen sang after a brief introduction - gently, but projecting enough so as to be heard by the congregation. He too was illuminated, and he stepped up to each new citizen, one by one. With one hand glowing with Holy Light, and the other wreathed in dark Shadows, he placed his thumbs upon each of their foreheads, leaving glowing impressions between their brows; it was a symbol of the Balance of Light and Shadow that their kingdom revered. He moved down the line, singing to them with his family playing accompaniment on their respective instruments.

Upon reaching the end, Rondmus - Aomaho’s father - stepped up to the opposite end of the group from Mal'valen. The two of them took the hands of the outermost citizens and helped them to their feet; once they stood, the outermost citizens turned and helped the next in line, each aiding one another in a display of newfound devotion and solidarity.

Once they all stood, Mal'valen moved to the podium before them, and the candles throughout the sanctuary slowly came to life, blessing the halls with soft, warm light. “My new friends,” he spoke, his normally quiet voice amplified by the crystalline microphone and speakers that had been set up within the sanctuary. “You are here because you left your old lives behind, whether involuntarily or of your own volition. You came seeking refuge, exiles from Alliance and Horde alike. You have endured great losses - friends, family, allies.

"Those you left - the factions, the commanders, the abusers, the loved ones - they may become bitter, hateful, spiteful. They may seek vengeance, because when you left, you took something away from them. In saving yourselves, you damaged them, and they will turn their suffering against you. They will vilify you in the name of reconciling the pain in their hearts, and to deflect blame for their own sins and troubles onto you.” Mal'valen’s tone was dark and filled with melancholy, but there was still a deep sense of courage within his voice.

giveaway 3rd prize for malvalen of his draenei paladin, zrimgor!

Quickly, he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill and began writing - he wanted to write it in Draenic, but even with Aomaho's knowledge of the language in his mind, he had some difficulty creating the unique characters still, especially with his poor eyesight.

“You–… we can what now?” Mal'valen asked, peering up at his younger brother.

“There’s no reason not to,” Veladrys responded, smirking a little as he handed the paperwork to the elder half-Elf. “You have a decently-sized village here now, and I’m pretty sure you could consider them your followers at this point.”

The priest didn’t even bother putting on his glasses to read the papers he’d been handed, shaking his head quickly. “No. No, absolutely not. First off, I’m no leader. Secondly, they’re family, not followers.”

Veladrys frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “You think there isn’t a head of a family?” he remarked. “Calling your land a kingdom doesn’t mean you have to be some smug, pompous, asshole of a leader. I don’t see why there’s any reason you all shouldn’t benefit from the designation.”

The apprehension was quite apparent on Mal'valen’s face as his long eyebrows drooped. In spite of his concerns though, he plucked his glasses from his robe pocket and donned them, squinting as he read the print that was a bit too small for someone with optic nerves as rotted as his were.

“For what it’s worth,” Veladrys interjected, “I think you’d make a damn fine king. Aomaho too.” He reached out and gave his older brother a firm pat on the shoulder. “Think it over. I’m gonna go check on the kids.”

i get irrationally angry about people...

I agree, it’s especially stupid considering that the ship was blatantly sabotaged. It wasn’t the Draenei’s fault at all.