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Nothing seemed that out-of-the-ordinary, except for a teddy bear hiding under the bed and a broken picture frame (with all the glass shards still stuck in it) in one of the drawers. It held a picture of a being with greyish hair. You really couldn't see the picture that well because it was smashed in right at the face. The picture frame was plain, except for the carved word "father" at the bottom.

What Doran saw was a very austere, solemn-looking man. He wore very intricate and obviously expensive clothing, giving him even a sharper edge. With him was a beautiful woman in more plain garb (which was easily recognizable as Gunther's mother) holding a little baby in her arms. But it couldn't have been Gunther - Gunther had silver hair, and the young one had hair as black as his father's. The caption at the bottom of the picture said "Lord, Lady, and Baby Draven Oreal'net".

~

Gunther was bored, making jets of water shoot up in the air and battle each other or dance or make water fireworks. He had fun playing - he was glad his mother had been at least somewhat adept at magic. That was his strong suit, after all. He made one of the jets turn into a ballerina, dancing around in the air before evaporating into it. He'd probably do this for a few more minutes before getting out.

Gunther dried off quickly, putting on his change of clothes (which happened to be his night clothes). He brushed his teeth before he forgot to, and then headed into his room.

What he saw when he got in there was Doran holding that familiar oak frame, holding the small pieces of glass in his hand. Rage surged through him at seeing that damned man holding his mother in his arms while she cradled the baby. He walked over to Doran and calmly pulled the frame out of his hands, taking the family picture out and ripping it in half. He then tossed the picture frame and the half of the picture with his father on it into the fire.

"So, found that did you?" Gunther looked up at Doran, who currently looked a little frightened. "If you don't tell anyone that you found that, and you don't ask too many questions about that picture, I won't get angry with you." He took the remaining piece of the photograph and placed it back in the drawer, closing it gently.

Gunther sighed. "I'm not mad at you, you know. I'm mad at HIM." He pointed to the now-ablaze half of the picture. "My father was a b*****d... and if it wasn't for him, I may still have had a brother." He sat down on the edge of his bed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "So what do you want to know about him, before I get tired of thinking of the b*****d?"

"All right then. That little boy in the picture was my older brother - but when my father left my mother he took Draven with him. We haven't seen or heard from either of them since." Sighing, he brushed a lock of hair from his face. "And I really wanted to meet my older brother, too... but at least the b*****d was kind enough to give us this nice house and a few million gold, which totals up to about one sixty-fourth of his wealth." Gunther growled. "And I'm named after the ********."

"Oh no, I can't see him. He's barred me from entering his estate. I only saw Draven once in a window. He's... a lot like mom. He's really handsome. From what I've seen, he's sweet. But that's just it. I HAVEN'T seen. I don't think he knows I exist, even." Gunther sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest. "If only I could get Draven to visit me... then I could tell him everything..." Suddenly he realized he was ranting. "Oh, right. Sorry about that... I tend to do that a lot when it comes to my brother and that b*****d."