A/N: Alright. Short note before the story begins. This is the companion piece to my drabble Waiting, and the reason that I added on to it was because someone requested it. I also wanted to try a few things with this fandom anyway. Well, I hope you enjoy and that this story is to your liking! Also, this first chapter is dedicated to Reinamarie Seregon for requesting/suggesting that I write this.

Disclaimer: Hellboy and any characters associated with it do not belong to me. I take care of the plot and the obvious OCs soon to come.


Silence. Unbearable, empty silence.

Ever since the defeat of Prince Nuada two years ago, the chamber of the Golden Army knew no living thing. Not even the smallest mouse wandered through the intricate halls of the fallen elf city.

"Are you sure this wise milady?" a low voice hissed through the emptiness. "This is fallow ground. Cursed ground. We should not be here."

"Do not act in such a craven manner Gaeleath," a woman's voice snapped. "You said it yourself, it is in the best interest of our people."

Two dark cloaks as black as the night raced silently across the ancient pathways that led to the throne room, where the remains of the last elves of royal lineage could be found. As the pair ascended the case of stairs, Gaeleath gazed at the walls that illustrated the creation of the Golden Army. At first the army was supposed to be a thing of peace, bringing sense back to the belligerent humans. However, it soon became painfully clear that that was not the case. The army of peace was instead an army of destruction. No good thing could come of it. Thankfully, the army was gone for good now. Suddenly a gasp tore Gaeleath away from his thoughts.

"There he is," the woman murmured in an almost reverent tone. There, in the center of the throne room, laid the pieces of Prince Nuada's body. Untouched as the day he had died. As she knelt by his remains, pale hair pooling on the ground, she said harshly, "Gaeleath. The other sibling is unnecessary. Proceed with the ritual this instant!"

"As you wish, Lady Liamhain." And with that, Gaeleath removed a pair of dark gloves from his hands and extended his palms forward, facing the deceased prince before him. Light encircled the body with a forbidding silence, creeping across anything it could touch like some snakelike creature of legend. Nothing happened for a long while.

But slowly, Nuada's body began to mend. The pieces that had scattered across the floor upon his death began to magically draw together so as to form his body once again. Once that was completed, color began to return to his garments as well as his facial markings. In a short matter of time, the prince resumed breathing for the first time in two years. However, he had not awakened to acknowledge it.

"He should resume consciousness in a span of three hours," Gaeleath declared quietly, slipping his gloves back on. "However if milady wishes for her plans to succeed, we must take precautions."

"Yes, yes. Bind him if you must, but take care that you don't damage him! The Council wants him unharmed."

"Of course Lady Liamhain." Roots quickly slithered from all sides and proceeded to bind Nuada's arms behind his back. Taking the elf's weapon as well, Gaeleath twirled it casually between his fingers. It seemed that the weapon refused to change for him as it did for its master.

"Come, Gaeleath. It is time for us to depart. Our job is done hereā€¦for now at least."

"Yes milady," he murmured as he threw Nuada over his shoulder. And in the blink of an eye, the elves had disappeared from sight.