A Gorgeous White

The blade rang as it sliced through the air before it slid into its sheath. The thrumming force remains surging within its steel body. The sword belt, hanging loosely around the wide hip, noised as its owner began to walk. Gently and elegantly, the youth ambled. His long wavy hair of silver swayed with his movements as though hypnotizing anyone who stared at his figure. Numerous servants and brave knights passed him and not one could resist the urge to take in his beauteous and striking features. There was a certain allure to only stare yet not touch.

Moulin shifted his gaze to the open arches at his right, revealing the breathtaking view of the sea of clouds. Silver pupils softened as a tranquil breeze gently swirled around his form. Then the hand on the hilt of his sword clenched tightly.

A sigh escaped Moulin's lips as he turned his head and headed towards his fellow maeruthan's courtyard.

When he passed through the archway, there weren't the boisterous sounds of laughter and the laborious grunting of training. Only pure silence welcomed him. Moulin scanned the area and spotted a passing elf who was about to leave the area. The youth quickened his steps and approached the female elf questioning her about where his friends were.

"I heard they were going to join the warriors to eat and drink in the Festive halls of the West wing. Perhaps, you can find them there, My Lord. Would you like me to take you there?" The elf blinked her bright eyes shyly, patiently waiting for his response.

Moulin smiled and declined. Although he was disappointed, he preferred to train alone this time. The men must be yearning for some entertainment and fine wine. Unfortunately, Moulin currently wasn't in the mood to join them. The elf could only bow before reluctantly leaving the area. However, she was delighted that she was able to converse with the mysterious maeruthan aphrodite and was excited to boast it to her friends.

The youth approached a secluded area of the courtyard, hidden by a wall of tall yet thin trees. Moulin cracked his neck as he shed his outer garments and stretched his arms and legs. He gathered his hair into a ponytail and unsheathed his sword, gleaming under the faint light. Then be paused.

Moulin raised his chin, lifting his closed eyes, and breathed it. He tried his hardest to soothe his heart, aware of his fluctuating emotions.

Afterwards, he abruptly opened his eyes, feeling the presence of another person.

"I know you heard all of it." Moulin softly spoke as he made light swings of his sword.

A heavy boot pressed against the stone floor followed by light footsteps, approaching the silver-eyed young man from behind. When strong arms came to encircled around Moulin's waist and a warm breath stroking his scalp, Moulin smiled faintly.

"I also know how troubled you are at this moment..." Hadrian's captivating voice entered Moulin's ears. They are like the deep waves of a storm-touched ocean.

Moulin sighed, letting the tip of his sword pierce the ground and he leaned his head back on the man's strong chest. "What is happening to me?"

"If you tell me, I may be able to help," Hadrian said, whispering against his ear.

Moulin enjoyed the huskiness of his voice and the tinge of concern dripping into his ear. His breath slowed and Moulin relaxed within his lover's embrace.

He started, "I had a strange dream last night."

Hadrian buried himself into Moulin's hair as he listened. "So it wasn't because of the discussion between you and your brother that bothers you but... a dream?"

Recalling him and Emlen's conversation earlier this morning, Moulin sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm still conflicted. However, yes, what truly troubles me is this strange dream I had. I can't seem to ignore it. It's eating my mind."

Moulin began to describe the visions and the tragic state of the room as well as the poor elf that he almost froze to death. His pupils quivered when he recalled the grotesque features of the person in the hood who met his eyes. Crimson blood streamed down the stone table, trickling and dripping down the jagged stone steps. Moulin felt as if he was truly present during that scene. The scent of blood was so strong it made him want to seal his sense of smell.

Questions swirled his mind but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the answer to it. What it just a bad dream? Then what could explain Morhas's voice? Speaking to him so gently like how he used to in his sleep.

"You're anxious..." Hadrian whispered as he slowly raises Moulin's hand, gently taking the sword away from his grip. A layer of pure white frost enveloped the hilt and Moulin hadn't even noticed it.

"I am anxious. I don't know what it all means. Everything... is all so confusing. I can't find any hints of it either." Moulin said as he watched Hadrian lift his hand, enclosing his large hand around his slightly smaller ones.

"Perhaps, if you wait, you will have more to discover. If that kind of dream reappears again, you must be wary and strive to acquire more from it." Hadrian said. "You don't have to unravel it as soon as you can. We have time. I will help you."

"Mn..." Moulin nodded.

Suddenly, ice materialized within Moulin's palm. Little shards attach themselves to the other, shaping into something solid. Curves and silver carvings of ice adorned the formed bow within his grasp. The archer's bow thrummed with energy, gleaming and glistening, as it recognized its master's touch.

Hadrian's hand wrapped around Moulin's hand holding his sacred weapon. Then so slowly, he guided Moulin's other hand to draw the bowstring, materializing an ice arrow thriving with cold mana. The freezing aura spreads throughout the courtyard.

"What are you planning?" Moulin asked curiously.

"Practicing..." Hadrian curtly responded as he channeled a stream of his own mana into Moulin's arms, effortlessly merging their energy. Their essence is like two red strings coiling around each other, altering into a thicker bind.

Moulin's heart jumped when he realized what was happening. Golden mana pumped into him, fueling his soul. The abundant rush was addicting, flowing like honey and melted gold. Glittering faint golden light masked over Moulin's skin in a translucent layer. Unlike before, when he was too distracted to notice such wondrous things, he realized his heightened senses.

The fascinating blend of power engulfed their bond, blazing more brightly than the brightest of stars. The giant glowing arrow materialize between the youth's smooth fingers. The tiny shards of ice it expelled cracked and buzzed with electricity. The golden pointed tip thrummed with perilous energy trembling in excitement to be released.

"Focus..." Hadrian's warm breath caressed the delicate curve of Moulin's ear. Moulin's heart pounded.

Then the bowstring snapped into place!

Whoosh!

The arrow left a powerful gust as it pierced through the air, as fast as the eye can see. It left a trail of tiny glistening snowflakes and the surroundings shook from the intensity! Mana wafted in the air, sizzling with the discharge of the deadly weapon that was released.

Moulin could hear how loud his heart pounded as his eyes gazed at the fading trail in the sky. A smile adorned his face. He was about to turn to Hadrian before a blinding flash of gold occurred in the sky.

Startled, Moulin covered his eyes with his arm as he drew closer to Hadrian in shock.

Golden flashes of lightning filled the clouds followed by the terrifying roars of thunder. Moulin's widened eyes reflected the blinding flashes of light within the clouds. From the deafening sounds it produced, it was horrendously powerful. Does fusing your mana with another maeruthan normally achieve these kinds of strong attacks?!

Moulin flinched slightly as a thunderclap boomed in the skies.

Not long after, the thunder grew fainter and the lights became dimmer and dimmer. When the silence finally returned, Moulin released a relieved sigh. Fortunately, the arrow didn't create a snowstorm or any kind of storm. When he saw how the sky got darker, he was almost shaking with regret. He didn't wish for anyone to suffer from his and Hadrian's so-called 'practicing'.

However, he had to admit. He felt much better after releasing the arrow. It was as though a big portion of his problems was bitten out.

"What do you think?" Moulin lowered his sacred weapon and turned to Hadrian slightly. His silver eyes easily caught the man's golden gaze.

"We need more-"

"Control." Moulin nodded and sighed. "I know... Perhaps, we can fire a few more shots and neutralize our mana a little bit. If we were in a more desolate area, we could try something bigger and stronger."

Hadrian looked at the youth's calculating look. The corner of his lips rose in amusement. "I meant that what we need is more... Connection."

"Oh..." Moulin blinked his eyes in surprise. In the next second, his expression morphed into confusion. "What do you mean?..."

The Lord chuckled and swallowed Moulin's next words with a kiss. The youth's eyes widened. He didn't know if Hadrian's words spoke the truth or if it was all a ploy to kiss him. However, Moulin wasn't the least bit angry. Instead, helplessness and joy poured into his chest and he gently parted his mouth to join his lover's tongue with his.

Hadrian angled his head, pushing himself deeper into the moist cavern of Moulin's sweet mouth. He actions grew fiercer in each passing second until he had Moulin pressed against his chest. The youth moaned delightfully and raised a hand to bring Hadrian's head closer. He smiled against the kiss, feeling naughty pleasured.

Suddenly, both of them pause and slowly parted. Moulin's eyes flashed with irritation as he shifted his gaze to the pair of onlookers starting at them between the trees. His silver eyes widened slightly when he realized who they were.

"Forgive us for the intrusion, My Lords."

Na'El smiled softly as he took a few steps forward. Behind him was Arcefi, dressed elegantly and silently staring at the two maeruthans with strange serious eyes.

"Hello, do you need me for something?" Moulin spoke first, aware of the dark look the man embracing him was giving their two guests. However, he didn't leave Hadrian's comfortable arms.

Na'El shook his head, "No, young master."

"What do you want?" Hadrian narrowed his eyes. Moulin was afraid Hadrian would twist the Oracle's head off with just his gaze.

The Elven Oracle replied calmly.

"His Majesty King Hathiandor Thundralln and the Royal councillors requested your presence." Na'El stopped aside to reveal to royal elven knights ready to escort Moulin.

Moulin's lips parted slightly. The King wants to see him? Why?