The main mountain road, paved and shining from years of use, shimmered and wove its way down to the valley floor, and on it were faint shapes and figures that heralded the arrival of the Demons.  There were no battle calls, no alarms, not even a shout; this invasion was allowed, and the Dark Elves would be grateful in the end.  At least, that was the hope.<br/><br/>The massive iron gate that barred the way at the entrance to the castle was slowly pried open, incredibly heavy to move as each piece was solid metal, meant to hold up against any attack.  It took special pulleys and a small army to open the doors wide enough for the oncoming parade, but once done the message was clear: welcome.<br/><br/>Tamlin vaguely wondered what it might feel like, to return to somewhere you had been exiled from.  The histories were honest in sharing that the Dark Elves were not the first in the mountains, and there were still Demonic places left untouched even after they had been driven out into the swamps.  The texts delicately  skirted around any statements of theft, but anyone could understand the implication, if not the justification.  Perhaps some of the Demons in the procession would be returning to somewhere they once knew.  The Queen certainly was, though there was almost nothing written about her besides her name and some obscure dates.<br/><br/>The first Demon crossed the threshold, and all the Elves's eyes were drawn in-- who was this?  The front was surely pride of place, and the Demon looked every bit as Tamlin had expected for a race so feared.  Giant, on another scale entirely, all white fur and wicked horns, hulking mass and claws that could disembowel someone with a single swipe.  Icy blue eyes, foreign and unnatural, slid over the audience as the rest of the company entered past the gate.<br/><br/>Naviin stirred, just enough for Tamlin to notice, and he could see his brother's jaw work beneath the skin.  The scar there was a bad one, incredibly deep and still as vivid as the day it was recieved.  It broke up the strong line of his face, the Demon who caused it having chipped the bone; Naviin was lucky to have lived from such a blow.  And he was staring, utterly honed in, on the white Demon at the base of the stairs, his gold eyes pale and tinged with rage.<br/><br/>It must be him, Tamlin realized, eyeing the stranger as well: the Demon who had scarred Naviin, who he had mentioned the times he'd spoken with Tam about his past battles, sometimes with a veiled level of respect, mostly with the words burning and spat like venom.  The White Wolf, Bloodsnow, Reaper in the Rocks; whatever the name used, Tamlin understood them now.  The prince could only hope his brother would keep his distance and his patience, what little he had, and leave the terrifying Demon alone.<br/><br/>There were many other Demons of all shapes and sizes, so bizarre they too warrented attention.  One could stare for days and still find something else to marvel at, and Tamlin nearly felt dizzy as he looked around at the colorful display.  The most prominant was a carriage, held by another imposing Demon and obviously meant for the Queen-- who else would ride in such flair and style?  It was strangely shaped and bright; the color almost felt inappropriate for such seriousness, but Tamlin had to remind himself this was supposed to be a happy time, even if it did not feel like one.<br/><br/>The carriage halted, the door opened.  Beyond was shrouded in a dark, swirling mist, but a carpet sprang out, unrolling itself from the doorway and up the stairs, landing feet away from the Dark Elf King and Queen.  Magic, Tamlin thought excitedly, eyes wide.  Magic was not a thing Elves could do; there were rare cases, but so few and far between that it was treated like an impossibility.  To see it here was a sign, of what he had no idea, but he would take it as a good omen.<br/><br/>Then the Queen herself stepped out, and the low murmurs and whispers of the court doubled in volume and veracity.  She may have been a Demon, but there was no denying she was beautiful, despite her unnatural form; all sleek iridescence, glistening and glowing under the sun, she stood with immeasurable grace and poise, as if this were a housecall and not a monumental moment in time.  Minas, the Demon Queen.<br/><br/>The Dark Elf King and Queen were the only to not be shaken, perched upon the stairs like eagles in an aerie.  They were adorned ceremoniously, layered in calming, serene shades, silks and heavy brocades and jewels, as such a public event required nothing less.  Their children stood beside them, still as statues.  All four of them gray, unmoving, nearly seemed unalive, but finally there was a change.<br/><br/>The King opened his clasped hands and spread his arms in a slow gesture, before bowing his head, the point of his gold and silver crown mirroring Minas' horn, though nowhere near as magnificent.  His Queen did the same, and after a moment, so did his sons-- all four bowing, expressing something unseen by anyone present for an era.  Royalty bowed for no one except equals, and the Demons were now not only equals, but in time may be so much more.<br/><br/>"Welcome, Minas, Great Queen and Mother of Demons.  The mountains celebrate your return."  The King's voice flowed through the open air, deep and reverberating; everyone who heard it listened.  He unfolded from his bowing, and there was a smile on his face, a rarity that made it seem as though he was welcoming home a friend.  The friendliness was not exactly a show; it was meant, but there were reservations.  The Demons were here to talk about peace, to talk about bettering their relationship, but there were requirements to be met if such a peace was to be achieved.  For the sake of the public, however, the best course of action was to seem as at ease as possible.<br/><br/>The Queen and her children also unfolded from their bows, and now the family resemblances could be discerned.  The King, Vuren, had the pale medium grey skin common for his kind, which appeared again in his oldest son, and both had the light yellow, honey eyes also present in many.  The blond hair was a trait shared by all four, of differing hues; Naviin's was the lightest, nearly white, while his younger brother's was much more golden than the rest.  Tamlin took after his mother, Riasa-- dark skinned, shaded like a thundercloud, and the unusual two-pointed tips to his ears.  His eyes though, they did not match mother or father, two dark discs of night in a slim, fine-featured face.  Sharia looked the most like a blend between her parents, though she was in no state to be welcoming anyone.<br/><br/>They stood at the top of the stairs, and waited for the Queen to reach them; once she did, they would be on equal ground, and the real negotions could begin behind closed doors.