Kallus stood in the library, facing his son.
The boy kept his arms crossed, refusing to meet his father's eyes. Of course, Kallus didn't blame the boy for being afraid of the words to come; Kallus wasn't looking forward to this talking-to either.
"I suppose it was to be you," Kallus said. "If anyone would be opposed to Damien, of course it turns out to be you, Níhilan."
"Psh, like you expected anything else," the boy scoffed. "Damien is weird. Since when does a human get to live in our House? It makes no sense."
"My reasons are my own, Níhilan." Kallus bent to the boy's level. "And, yes, I did expect a different outcome. You two are close in age, and you share the same wing with relatively no one around to monitor you. I figured you would've become friends by now at the very least."
"Yeah, like I could be friends with a freak like him. Have you seen his blood magic scars? He's practically half-dead already."
"Yes, I have seen his scars," Kallus nodded. "But you would do well to pay no mind to it, the scars will fade in time, Níhilan. You won't be made to suffer any embarrassment on account of him."
"Well, good."
"I understand you lashed out at him earlier. Because he insulted you?"
"Yeah." The boy looked down. "He called me naelen. And before you ask, I didn't teach him that."
"I figured," Kallus said. "It's not in your arsenal of curse words. He most likely learned it from Lila."
"Then you should be punishing her," Níhilan smirked.
"Well, she's not the one who punched her brother."
"But I didn't start that! Damien is wrong to call me names, Dad."
"Yes, and I intend to speak with him also. I want you to focus on your action. You will find that laughing through an insult is much better than punching through it. Violence creates enemies, but humor...creates friendship in even the most unlikely pairs. You have a strong sense of humor, son, so employ it. When Damien makes you angry, find a way to laugh."
"Urg, but I don't want to be his friend." The boy scowled. "You can't expect me to just accept the freak into my life."
"Acceptance is what Damien needs most," Kallus said. "He comes from a dark world. Whether you embrace him or not, I would advise you not to push him to anger anymore. Provoking him would likely put you in danger."
Níhilan cocked a brow. "Danger? Really, Dad? Damien couldn't hurt me if he tried. He’s so weak."
"That may be true for now, but you must be gentle with him, Níhilan. No more insults, no more brawls. You understand?"
"Fine." Níhilan rolled his eyes. "Can I go now?"
Kallus dismissed him with a nod, and when the boy walked off, Kallus went upstairs and found Damien sitting in his room. It was almost concerning how quiet the boy was, how withdrawn into himself he seemed.
Kallus pushed open the door and leaned against the post. "You called my son 'naelen'?"
Damien turned at the sound of the elf's voice, and his chin bent subtly with a nod. "I did."
Kallus wasn't proud of it, but he allowed himself to laugh at the notion. Of all the ways to cast an insult, this human had found the epitome. "If only you applied yourself to your other studies with such diligence."
"I suppose you came here to punish me for it."
"Punish is a strong word," Kallus said. "I understand my son has a short temper. It appears he was looking for a reason to lash out. The flame must have been there long before you provided the fuel." Then he came and sat on Damien's bed. "Still, I expect better from you, Damien. Do not think of my son as a rival, do not let your emotions get the best of you."
Damien craned his head, perplexed. “Emotions?”
“Yes, humans are far more sensitive to emotion than I deem to understand, but it does not make us, Damien. Anger, grief, fear...these things must not drive you. They have their purpose, yes, but one must not turn to violence on account of them.”
Damien let out a breath and said, “I’ll try. To do better.”
“Good.” Kallus gripped the boy’s shoulder. “Níhilan has agreed to not provoke you any further, but you must take care to monitor yourself. Your choices are your own, and you must live with the consequences of them.”
Then he made his exit and closed Damien’s door behind him.
***
After supper, the two boys were ordered to clean the dishes. Kallus employed his words when it came to discipline, but chores were Lanara's preferred form of punishment. Side by side, the two youths refrained from talking to each other as they worked, and when their task was done, they were sent up to their rooms.
Naelen dragged himself behind Damien on the way to their secluded wing, being all dramatic about it. Like an idiot.
It would have been nice for Damien to close his door and be done with the elf for the rest of the evening, but Naelen stood awkwardly in front of his door, holding Damien's gaze. It didn't feel right to turn his back in that moment.
A gap of ten paces separated them, but it no longer felt so distant.
"I, uh, shouldn't have insulted you like that," Damien said. "It was wrong of me."
The elf seemed struck by Damien's apology and looked away. "I shouldn't have called you a freak," Naelen said.
"Well...you're not far from the truth," Damien chuckled. "I already know I'm a freak, that's why I didn't like hearing it from you."
"And I already know I'm an ass," Naelen said, unable to hold in his laughter. "So, there's no need to tell me." He gestured to Damien's arms. "I have a question: were you...raised by dark elves? Is that why your veins are so black?"
"Mhm."
"Weird. I mean cool, but weird."
"Why cool?" Damien puzzled.
"Well, the danger—the adventure of it!"
"No." Damien shook his head. "Whatever you're picturing it was not 'cool', it was torture. It was...a life I'm striving to forget."
"Then good luck with that." Naelen grinned. "Good luck trying to not be a freak, I hope it works out for you."
They shared a mutual laugh, and when it faded, Damien smiled at Naelen saying, "Good night, Naelen. I hope you stop being an ass."
"Heh, sleep well. Damien."
