I thought back to my days as a young one. They were hazy, a lot happened to me when I was younger that made me want to forget those years and my subconsciousness had done its best to obey my wishes. There was a tale that I could recall; the hero was an elf, my age, who fought alongside humans and was persecuted and sentenced to death but he escaped having been rescued by the humans. He found out he could perform magic and then he-
"No!" I exploded, "No I will not fight against my kin! I will not cross blades with an elf in combat, ever!" I hissed angrily. This was absurd. In the story, the hero called forth the elves and they fought with the humans. All the humans were defeated and the elf exiled. The moral was to stay in line with what the monarchy wanted. I could not lead my human friends to their deaths, I would not.
High King Marlow held his hands up, "It may not come to that, we all know it. And if it does it shall have a different outcome."
I shook my head once more.
"How do you it is me?" I choked out.
"Someone who has suffered more than we thought possible, someone still strong, still able to love. Someone who is still under the title Theron." He eyed me meaningfully. Now I understood why he insisted on me keeping that title. Then my blood shivered.
"Lorcan knows!" I gasped, "He insisted on calling me Theron Elvin even when I asked him not to; I thought he was just being antagonising, but do you think he knows the legend too?"
High King Marlow frowned, "It is possible, but Lorcan is too narrow minded to be gifted with Sight. I do not believe he knows."