Weak

Baron stole an unoccupied bed at the eastern wing of the ship, tired and grateful that his uncle hadn't pressed him all night with questions. The less he knew the better. There was no need to bore the old man with semantics. No, there was no need to tell anyone why he was really here. He wasn't one to lay his weaknesses out on the table. Friend or foe, he trusted no man. He in truth knew why he was shunned by his own family.

“Fraternizing with a human.” was how the Elders had put it. As if it could somehow justify their need for killing the love of his life. Back then he was an honest man, he didn't fraternize. He loved Delilah with every fiber of his being. Thinking about her made him restless. He turned on his side, struggling to get comfortable. His thoughts were plagued with regret. How could have been so selfish? He could have easily prevented …. He should have taken his mother's advice. He should have left Delilah alone or at the very least denounced himself from the Gods. Being the product of a mortal-immortal relationship himself. He should have seen this coming. His own mother. Had lied to protect him. She told the elders she hadn't realized the error of her mistake and that she had thought the man, his father, was of her own kind. When the elders grew suspicious, she broke off all ties to Baron's father. Could he have done the same with Delilah? Or at the very least offered up my immortality? A wise man would know that you could never have both. Even as a halfling you were forced to a pick a side. God or man? The question was irrelevant now as he had been cast out of the realm of the Gods by their elitist council of Elders. He was already losing his immortality. His powers were slowly draining. If he didn't start learning to think and fight like a mortal, he would perish in this world. He was losing the upper hand, he was becoming weak.

Graciously Baron took comfort in knowing he did have some family left. His father was a stealthy man, who stayed hidden or well disguised whenever he dared to make contact with his only son. It had been three years in passing. He thought about the last time he was truly a happy man. He had lived his life to the fullest; he had power, wealth and most of all a good women to share it with. He closed his eyes, willing himself asleep with safer thoughts. He mused over his uncle's generosity. Uncle Leopold's reluctance and brisk demeanor was nearly a facade. Similar to the one his father used so nobody would assume they were relations when they were seen by the public. Baron remembered the last reunion he had with his father, it was a joyous affair. He had introduced him to Delilah, with a promise of a stable home, marriage and someday grandchildren. All of those things would never happened. Once the Gods had caught word of Baron's plans they took it offensively. They were far too righteous to let a halfling like Baron make a mockery out of them by choosing a human mate.

Tonight Baron was overcome by exhaustion. His dreams were corrupt with memories. It was a reoccurring night terror. It began with Delilah sitting in a field, as he entwined wild flowers into her chestnut hair. He was so jaded, oblivious to any harm that might steal his love away. One moment he was laughing with her in a meadow, and the next she was gasping for air. For her life. She was changing in front of his eyes. Aging rapidly. “No!”. Baron shouted shaking his betrothed, begging for the cruel magick to end until she was no more than a corpse. Mercilessly, that was always where the dream had ended.

Self consciously Baron reached for his bastard sword, as he slept with it unsheathed. He had been on a warpath since Delilah's death almost three years ago. This meant awake or asleep, he would never let his guard down. He was a devoted warrior now, slaying beasts and anything other obstacle the Elders dared to put in his path. He liked the challenge. It was a good distraction. Every beast slayed brought him closer and closer to facing his true nemesis. The one who had brought upon Delilah's death. All of this was practice for when he would face the one he despised, loathed above all. Aries, God of war.

The End

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