Betrothed to the Enemy (closed for TaliaTheBlack)

[The Jeffinator]

Once upon a time, there was a great clash between two sides on the continent of Udor -- the humans of the Aedish Union in the East, and the elves of the Feywood Alliance to the West. Both sides had laid claim to the Qaarnic River, the largest river on the continent. The entire contested area came to be known as the Riverlands, and was the site of many tragic battles.

As both sides grew weary after countless years of wars, King Abraham of the Union and King Pantharaasa of the Alliance began peace talks at Qaarngard, the largest keep along the river and considered a good neutral spot. It was decided that Abraham's youngest son Arryn and Pantharaasa's youngest daughter Daralei would wed in the first interracial marriage for the sake of peace. Since they both had older siblings to fill vital roles in their respective homelands, neither side suffered a great loss.

At the signing of the Qaarnic Treaty, Arryn was thirteen and Daralei was eight. The wedding was scheduled for one week after the young elven princess turned eighteen, which gave them ten years to prepare. Humans and elves joined forces to transform the derelict Qaarngard into a magnificent palace encircled by a sprawling city on both sides of the river, connected by bridges. In the decade preceding the wedding, several small villages also popped up along the river, and the entire area became a mixing of human and elven cultures.

Now, the day had finally come for Prince Arryn of House Blackmire -- now twenty-three years old -- to depart the Aedish capital of Landerport, the largest city along the eastern coast. Arryn -- along with his father and older brothers -- climbed into a heavily decorated wooden carriage in the courtyard of the White Keep. It had always been a theme with House Blackmire -- their surroundings were of white stone and gold lining, but their clothing was always black as night, to stand as a stark contrast so one could never mistake a Blackmire when they saw one.

Prior to their departure, King Abraham had gifted Arryn with a new sword as a mark of adulthood. He called the weapon Wolfblade and posed with it for a final painting at the White Keep.

http://i.imgur.com/NHqy6Ls.jpg

After a few days, their caravan stopped to rest and water the horses. Stepping out of the carriage, Abraham pointed westward. "You see there, my boy?" he said to Arryn. "That is Qaarngard. We will be arriving later tonight, and tomorrow you shall meet your bride."

Off in the distance, Arryn could see the east side of the magnificent keep, where he would soon call home. "It does look quite marvelous, Father," he agreed. "But must I marry an elf? They care not for the well-being of commonfolk, I'd much rather --"

"Enough," his father cut him off. "We've been through this. The wedding will proceed as planned and I expect you to do your duty. Disobedience will not be tolerated, son. I trust you know this?"

"Yes, Father," Arryn replied with a sigh. "I would never sully House Blackmire in such a manner. I only mean to say I'd rather marry a woman of my own race."

"Well, of course you would," Abraham said. "But sacrifices must be made for the greater good of our kingdom. Your bride may not be human, but I hear the elven females are quite the sight to behold. That should at the very least provide some form of excitement -- you'll be the first Aedish human to bed an elf! Ha!"

"Yes, I'm sure she'll be stunningly beautiful, as all elves are," he agreed. "But it requires a great deal more than a pretty face to make a good bride. Moreso than that -- we will also be Wardens of the Riverlands. I fear we will clash on how to properly govern."

"Keep in mind, Arryn," added Abraham, "she is a princess. No doubt she has learned a thing or two from her father. Now whether or not that is a good thing remains to be seen! Ha!"

A few hours later, they came upon Qaarngard and crossed one of the bridges over to the palace, which was on the west side of the river. The keep was set along the smallest part of the Qaarnic, as further on both sides it became a great deal wider. The following morning, King Pantharaasa's caravan arrived at the city. Arryn stood with his family in the palace courtyard awaiting the carriage carrying the princess.

Picture of Qaarngard

 

[TaliaTheBlack]

http://i.imgur.com/OyTnowf.jpg

Princess Daralei rose groggily from her bed as she was woken by her handmaidens. The day had finally come. The day she’d dreaded ever since she was old enough to understand what this arranged marriage entailed. She considered lying back down and trying to forget about it all, but she knew her handmaidens wouldn’t let her. After all, the sun was already up. They would be departing soon.

She dutifully went through her morning routine of bathing, combing her long silvery hair, and putting on a gown suitable for travel. Once done, she went outside. Down below, in the courtyard, the caravan was nearly done preparing for departure, and she could see her father and brother waiting for her to arrive. But instead of going straight to them, Daralei climbed to the top of the castle wall, to look out across her home city one more time.

When viewed from above, Uilossar, the capital of the Feywood alliance, was largely obscured by the many silver-leaved trees that dotted its streets. The elves rarely raised tall buildings, preferring to follow the natural flow of the land. Thus, the only obvious sign of civilization were the few white-marble watchtowers peeking out above the canopy. Daralei had always found it a beautiful sight. Unfortunately, she wasn’t likely to see it again in a long time.

Uilossar had been ruled by the Illannas family for many generations. In the Aedish tongue, their name translated to Silverheart, so that’s how they were usually known to outsiders. Of course, most of their shared history with the Aedish was far from friendly, but that had recently changed. And it was up to Daralei to keep it that way.

Going back downstairs, she met up with her father, King Pantharaasa, and her brother, Prince Nassandar, who would one day become the new king. The three climbed into their transport, a carriage of grey wood drawn by a pair of great antlered stags, the elves’ favoured beasts of burden. Now that the royal family and Daralei’s chosen handmaidens had joined, the caravan departed on its way to the Riverlands.

Daralei hardly spoke about her upcoming marriage during the following days. She preferred not to think about it too much, and she didn’t want to seem too eager to complain. But during the final day of the journey, when the great keep of Qaarngard came into view and her nerves started to build, she couldn’t help but bring it up.

“Father,” she said to the king, who was seated across from her in the carriage. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I know the Aedish are our allies now, but… they’re savages. They won’t appreciate our sacrifices. I just… I don’t want to be some human lord’s whore.” She gently bit her bottom lip, realizing she’d spoken too harshly.

The king sighed. “Trust me, sweet Daralei, I too am pained by this arrangement. If I could’ve achieved peace without this marriage, I would have. But this is important. The peace will not last if our people remain strangers to one another. An unwillingness to marry sends a dark message to our supposed allies.”

Daralei cast her eyes down. “I understand. I’m just… afraid of what he’ll be like. I don’t think I could make a marriage with a brute last.”

“They are brutes,” he admitted. “But there is honour among their kind as well, even if it must be brought out. You are stronger than them, Daralei. If anyone can make this work, it’s you.”

“I will try, father. I will try.”

That evening, the caravan pulled into the gates of Qaarngard. A crowd of people had gathered to watch their arrival. The human inhabitants were curious to see the mysterious elven nobility, while the elven inhabitants were eager for a dose of familiarity in this strange mixed-race city. Many of the common people outside cheered for the royal family as they passed, but Daralei was too caught up in her own thoughts to really notice.

Eventually, the caravan disappeared into the palace gates. As the king’s servants started rounding up and unloading the supply carts, the royal family emerged from their carriage and walked out into the courtyard, to meet up with their human allies in person for the first time in years.

To those unfamiliar with elves, the royal trio would be an unusual sight. All three were tall and stately, with bluish skin and long hair coloured silver or gold, and all were clad in colourful flowing clothes. Daralei herself wore a dress of purple silk that wrapped tightly around her ample breasts and slender waist, and gently billowed out around her thighs, before ending at her knees. It had a low neckline and no sleeves, with her only other piece of clothing being her heeled silver shoes, and the studs of silver and gemstone that decorated her long ears. While human women were known for wearing long gowns and multiple layers, elves were not so prudish. They favoured elegant simplicity in their outfits, and found the exposure of bare skin to be only natural.

“Greetings, great lords of Landerport!” King Pantharaasa spoke as he approached. “It has been a long time.”

 

[The Jeffinator]

As the caravan of carts and wagons pulled into the palace courtyard, they were followed by an elegantly decorated carriage carrying the elven royalty. As they stepped out onto the cobblestone road encircling the central fountain, it was immediately apparent how beautiful and graceful their kind was. Even the men looked somewhat attractive, but nothing could have prepared Arryn for the vision of beauty as Princess Daralei appeared from inside the carriage. He gulped as the elves walked toward them, trying not to stare at the luscious curves of her body or the silk cloth that clung to it. Even her bare arms and the neckline of her dress sent his heart racing, contemplating the fact that in a week he was going to be sharing a bed with her.

Exerting incredible mental control, he reminded himself that elves were more susceptible to human odors, and that if he didn't quiet his thoughts his bride-to-be may catch the scent of arousal from him. He regained control of his thoughts as the elf king greeted them.

“Greetings, great lords of Landerport!” King Pantharaasa spoke as he approached. “It has been a long time.”

"That it has," Abraham replied, a grin visible beneath his thick gray beard as he clasped arms with the elven lord. It had taken them a number of meetings to develop the ability to greet each other without grimaces and snide remarks. Deep down they both probably still secretly despised one another, but for the sake of their people they found the will to be friendly. "May I introduce my sons!"

"This is Prince Andrew, my oldest heir and next in line for the throne," he pointed to a man who looked to be in his early thirties, sporting the same thick beard as his father, only black.

"Prince Albus, my second son and apprentice to our Grand Magister of Sorcery," he then pointed to a man in his late twenties, who was clean-shaven and had his long hair back in a tail.

"And finally, Prince Arryn, betrothed to Princess Daralei and one of the finest warriors trained by Knight Commander Barrus."

All four of the Blackmire men were rather tall, dressed on their dark colors and deep raven hair. Abraham and Andrew were both quite built and muscular, standing at least six and a half feet. Albus was a few inches shorter, and considerably thinner, given that he spent more time studying books than in the training yard. Arryn was the shortest of the men, but still tall by most standards, standing at roughly six feet and two inches. He had built a fair share of muscle, but his body was much more lean and agile than his father and eldest brother, his training having focused more on speed and precision than brute strength.

They all greeted each other, until Arryn finally made eye contact with Daralei. "Good morning, my lady," he said politely. "I trust your trip was comfortable?"

 

[TaliaTheBlack]

The elven king likewise introduced his heirs. Prince Nassandar was much like his father: tall and lean, with flowing golden hair. Neither men were specialized fighters, but rather scholars and diplomats, and dabblers in the arcane arts. It was not conventional for elven nobility to lead from the front lines, the way human lords did. Rather, they preferred to amass a wide base of knowledge and leadership skills, to best command their underlings. Daralei was no different. Although she was not the first heir, she too was well-educated in the arts, sciences, and the arcane.

And yet, she didn’t feel very prepared for this moment. Daralei marvelled at the human lords before her, whom she hadn’t met since she was a young child. She was surprised at how tall and imposing the men were. Elves were usually taller than humans. Daralei herself stood at five foot ten inches; not unusual for an elven woman, but very tall by human standards. Her father and brother were both well over six feet. Even so, the Blackmire men made her feel quite small. She’d heard rumours that the Blackmires owed their great stature to sharing the blood of orcs or giants. She figured it was only slander, but she could see where the idea had come from.

King Abraham and Prince Andrew seemed like perfect exemplars of their kind: masculine, strong, commanding, but not very attractive to Daralei’s sensibilities. But her betrothed was different. He was tall and strong, but more refined in his appearance, not as brutish as she’d expected. She had to admit that he was handsome, even if the thought of being with a human felt strange to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when he spoke to her, now standing right before her. “Oh, yes, my lord, comfortable enough,” she answered, trying to hide her nerves behind a smile. Was he as nervous as her? She couldn’t tell. His dark eyes and chiselled face didn’t betray it. “I hope we didn’t take too long to arrive. Is the city to your liking? I’ve heard it’s a wonderful place, but I haven’t been here since… since we met as children.”

While Daralei did her best to initiate conversation, King Pantharaasa turned back to his human counterpart. “Your grace, I believe we have a lot to discuss surrounding the upcoming wedding, and it would benefit our elder sons to join the discussion. Shall we leave our prince and princess to acquaint themselves while we tend to our business?”

 

[The Jeffinator]

"I like the city rather well," Arryn responded with a smile. He too felt a bit nervous, worried that he would clash with his new bride. "From what I was told, Qaarngard and the surrounding Riverlands has been under the protection of a neutral third party. Our fathers hired a mercenary group called the Guild of Oathkeepers, which counts no humans or elves among their ranks. It is led by Commander Ourik, an old dwarf warrior. From what I heard, the Guild is comprised of mostly dwarves, orcs, gnomes, and centaurs, all pledged to uphold their oaths. I believe they came across the sea from Aldarea."

Arryn realized he was rambling and tried to fight a blush that followed. "My apologies. I momentarily lost my composure in the presence of such beauty." He bowed his head to her slightly, then turned as he heard the elf king speak.

“Your grace, I believe we have a lot to discuss surrounding the upcoming wedding, and it would benefit our elder sons to join the discussion. Shall we leave our prince and princess to acquaint themselves while we tend to our business?”

Their fathers and brothers soon left them, and they stood there in the courtyard alone, silent for a few moments. "Would you care for a walk in the gardens?"

As they strolled amidst the flowers and the trees, Arryn noticed the sunlight shining on her stunning silver hair, the light touching her silky soft purple skin as well. She was such a sight to behold, he found himself nearly breathless every time he gazed upon her for more than a moment. Even her voice seemed to enthrall him.

Don't forget she is an elf, he reminded himself. Her kind has been our enemy for ages. I shouldn't be so quick to fall under her spell, lest it lead me to my doom.

Daralei seemed kind enough, but he remained alert nonetheless. He decided to occupy his mind for the time being and learn more about his bride-to-be. "So, my lady, what are the usual marriage customs in Uilossar? What roles do males and females traditionally play?"

 

[TaliaTheBlack]

Daralei giggled softly at his apologetic compliment, mostly as a practiced courtesy. “No worries. I’ve heard of the Oathkeepers as well, though not in such detail. To be honest, I questioned our fathers’ decision to leave the city’s defence to… strangers. But I suppose neutrality counts for something, and the city is still standing.”

The line of conversation was interrupted by the departure of their families, and soon the two were left alone in the courtyard. She gladly accepted Arryn’s suggestion to walk the gardens. She was eager to find out whether the beauty of this castle could hold a candle to that of Uilossar. After all, she would be spending the foreseeable future in this place.

Prince Arryn’s next question puzzled her for a second, until she remembered how separated the gender norms were in human culture. Or so she’d been told. She didn’t know the specifics very well. “Well, uhm, men and women are not so different. Among us, that is. The ruling king and queen often arrange marriages for their sons and daughters. The marriage ceremonies are conducted by a druid of our faith. I think your people would call them… priests? The ceremony traditionally takes place in a grove or copse, where the gods can witness it.

“Once it’s done, the bride and groom get shared ownership of each other’s domains. Whether they actually share the rule is for them to decide. In my parents’ case, my father took all the royal duties upon himself. My mother was more of a warrior than a ruler. She was one of my grandfather’s generals, and continued to serve as such after marrying my father. She was of noble blood, of course, but she came from a lesser house, so she was never groomed for being queen.”

Daralei sighed to herself. “She would’ve loved to be here, I’m sure, but she was killed in battle when I was young. I think it was the battle of-” Her voice caught in her throat as she remembered whom she was talking to. It was the war against the Aedish Union that had claimed her mother. In fact, it was rumoured that King Pantharaasa’s grief for his wife was what led him to seek an end to this war, and prevent further suffering. She cleared her throat. “… of the Duskford. But that was twelve years ago. Time goes on, I suppose. So, uhm, what about you? Are things different among your people?” she asked, trying to keep her composure and move forward.

 

[The Jeffinator]

Arryn's heart rate picked up a bit when Daralei mentioned the Battle of Duskford. He had lost someone as well in that conflict -- his beloved Uncle Dedric. Here was this elf talking about missing her mother when it was their fault the war broke out in the first place? They invaded the Riverlands after the Union laid claim to it! At least, that's what all young humans were taught growing up. The Aedish version of history was quite prejudiced towards elves.

He balled his fists and tried to prevent himself from speaking out, internally commanding himself to regain his composure. He decided to address her question as a distraction from his anger. "We have similar traditions. Many marriages are arranged by their parents, generally as unions between houses as part of a trade deal or something along those lines. It is not, however, traditional to marry an elf, though."

He said that last part with a bit of harshness in his voice, despite his attempts to quell his burning inner rage. Before he knew it his mouth was speaking again. "Oh, shocked by that, are you? Yes, it was certainly no desire of mine to share a bed with the people who invaded our Riverlands. You claim to have lost a mother in the Battle of Duskford -- a war caused by your people disrespecting our borders. Well, my lady, I lost an uncle in that battle. Keep in mind the people we lost were defending our land from invaders. From you people. You stomp in, take what is rightfully ours, and now to end the war we have to share? Your people don't belong here -- this is our land."

Whether or not the elf invasion story was true was up for debate. The elves likely had a different version of events in their history books. Both sides had slandered each other so much over the years it was impossible to know who started what. But Arryn clung to the version of history he was told, though he did feel a large ping of regret in the pit of his stomach after his rage-fueled rant.

 

[TaliaTheBlack]

Daralei halted in place and turned to face her would-be husband, her gentle features now distorted into a grimace and her long ears quivering ever so slightly. She’d tried to steer away from this topic, but he’d engaged anyways. Typical. Perhaps she was wrong to think that he was any different. “Well ex-cuse me Mister Rightful, were you under the impression that I was excited about this? You try to hide it, but I know what you people are like. I’d rather bed a drunkard dwarf than a… a brute like you! Dwarves at least know to stick to their mountains and not meddle with things they know nothing about.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. Elves were emotional beings when it comes down to it, and all her pent-up tension from the past couple days had finally found a way out. She was vaguely aware of how self-destructive this argument was, even while it was happening, but there was no stopping it now. “But nooo, you people go around laying claim to whatever doesn’t have a property sign on it. My people had been tending these woods for ages before you showed up, protecting and nurturing them as the gods intended. But you were too stupid to recognize that, or maybe you just didn’t care. We were the ones defending ourselves after you started chopping and burning our homeland.”

She let out a frustrated groan and turned away from him. Then she took a deep breath, cooling her fury, though not quite quelling it. “If you want rid of me, you need only try. You’re bigger than me, and armed. Go ahead, prove me right. Then you can have your wretched war back,” she said accusingly, without looking back at him.

 

[The Jeffinator]

"Another elf lie!" Arryn cried as Daralei claimed they were there first. "Why am I not surprised? And to project your own stupidity and inferiority onto us? Typical! It would certainly make me much happier to be rid of you, to be freed from this torment of an arrangement. Forced to marry and elf! Oh the horror! But unlike you invaders, we know honor. I am honor-bound to comply with my father and king and commit to this marriage."

Arryn felt a bit disgusted with himself in the way he lashed out and behaved, but his rage was burning so brightly. He took a deep breath and then spoke more calmly. "I do not like this. That is true. However, I would never dishonor my House by betraying an order from the King. He may be able to control my hand, but he will not control my heart. I will stand beside you at the altar and commit to the marriage, but we will not consummate it. Our fathers may think we have, but the moment we are behind closed doors, I shall stay on the opposite side of the room."

 

[TaliaTheBlack]

Daralei spun around to face him again. She was actually strangely disappointed that he refused to do her any harm. Not because she wanted to be harmed, of course, but because it left her with a pang of doubt on whether she’d misjudged him. She didn’t think he’d actually try to kill her, but she’d hoped him to be at least more tempted. That would’ve made hating him a lot easier.

Of course, she was in no state of mind to reconsider her priorities now. “That is fine by me. It’s not like I was seriously considering giving my maidenhead to you anyways. Let our fathers think what they wish, but in private we’ll mind our own business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think we’re done here,” she said, before turning away and walking off towards the castle entrance, trying her best to keep a calm composure despite her inner fury.

Her anger transitioned into sorrow once he was out of sight, as she realized she’d have to live with the damage she’d just done to their relationship. She needed some form of safety and familiarity after this fallout, so she went to seek out the chamber that her handmaidens would be preparing for her. She wouldn’t be able to tell her handmaidens what had happened, lest she risk exposing this conflict of interest, but at least she’d be able to take solace in the company of her fellow elves, for now. She wouldn’t have her own chamber for much longer though, only until the wedding. What would happen then… she really didn’t want to think about that right now.

 

[The Jeffinator]

Over the following week, Arryn and Daralei kept their distance from each other. When they were forced to be near one another at certain meal gatherings, they upheld the facade of friendliness, but internally despised having to hide their true feelings. When not under these mandatory get-togethers, Arryn tried to stay away from the castle as much as possible, touring the markets or exploring the surrounding countryside.

When the day of the wedding finally arrived, King Abraham dressed his son in a finely-woven tunic and long flowing vest after the young man had been bathed fairly thoroughly. Unlike their traditional black attire, the formal wear donned for weddings included a fair bit of white, as well as silver. It sported a high collar and was elegantly crafted by the greatest tailors in Landerport.

Arryn's Formal Wedding Attire

In the gardens, a wedding arch had been laid, as well as numerous flowing banners and ribbons around the surrounding wall. Thousands of observers filled the area, while Commander Ourik stood to officiate, being a neutral party. He was rather short -- just under five feet -- but impressively muscular with a thick white beard twisted into complex braids. He was dressed in an equally well-crafted tunic and looked at the crowd, his blue eyes peering out from under bushy white brows and a long mane of silver hair, braided similar to his beard.

Arryn was first to walk through the crowd to the arch, then stood by Ourik as they watched for the bride. An organ had been moved into the Gardens, where a musician currently played an elegant melody befitting the occasion. Arryn's heart was in his throat a bit, his mind feeling a great deal of anxiety. Still, he was put together fairly well externally, dressed in his royal formal attire and the short beard he was growing trimmed neatly. His raven hair cascaded in waves down to his shoulder, while his clothing and neck had been lightly misted by applied male perfumes. Overall, he looked and smelled like royalty, emanating the confidence and demeanor expected of him, from his stature to his facial expressions. But internally, he was tormented. He never liked formal gatherings to begin with, and really wished he was out on a hunting trip instead of there.