Elven Oath

Chapter 3

Aodhan

A s we descend into the courtyard, the familiar weight of the ground meets my claws, and I can feel the shift in the air around me.

The Elfkin below us scatter like leaves in the wind. Their wide, fearful eyes locked on us as though they were watching the approach of death itself. I’d grown used to this reaction over the years. The awe and terror we inspired in most creatures but it still grated on me.

The Elves and Dragons were not currently at war, yet here I was, a prince of the Dragonkin, and they cowered as if I had come to destroy them.

Maybe they were afraid that I’d breach the truce our two peoples had slowly put together. All bound together in the fate of a marriage.

It never occurred to me that perhaps one of both of us could refuse the marriage then the war would start all over again.

Falkor and Drago flank me as we land, their wings folding close to their bodies as we shift into our human forms.

The transformation was always disorienting for others to witness. One moment they’re looking at a massive dragon, the next, a man.

Reaching down, I untie the bag that is on my legs as my companions do the same and we dress quickly.

Looking up a few minutes later, I catch sight of the guards as they hesitate, their hands tightening on their spears. Their fear is palpable, but they hold their ground, stepping forward cautiously.

"Welcome," the captain of the guard finally manages, his voice steady but lacking its usual authority. "His Majesty awaits you in the main hall."

I exchange a glance with Falkor, who raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing the same unease I do. Drago, always the most perceptive of us, nods almost imperceptibly. There was something wrong here, something more than the usual tension between our peoples.

We were here for diplomacy, to fulfill the terms of an ancient agreement, yet the air crackled with unspoken anxiety.

We’re escorted through the castle a minute later, the elves’ eyes following us like shadows. The guards remain stiff, their gazes flicking between us and the stone walls, as if they expect an attack at any moment.

I keep my own senses sharp, listening, watching, my dragon instincts attuned to the unease that seems to infect this place.

By the time we reach the main hall, the tension has wound itself tight in my chest. The King is waiting for us, his posture rigid as we’re introduced.

His face is a mask of calm that doesn’t match the undercurrent of fear running through his people. I’m about to address him when the door to the hall suddenly bursts open.

A woman rushes in, breathless and disheveled. Her dress is stained with dirt, and twigs stuck in her hair like she has just run through a forest.

It takes me a moment to fully register her presence, and for a second, all I can do is stare. She is nothing like the polished courtiers who usually surround royal halls. Nothing like the prim and proper women of the Elfkin court that I’d heard of.

Her bright blue eyes blaze with life, vibrant and untamed. Despite the dirt on her face and the wild state of her appearance, she was beautiful. Stunning, even. I can’t seem to look away.

She doesn’t bow. Doesn’t even acknowledge the King in the way she should have. Instead, she marches right up to him, her chin held high, and takes her place at his side as if she has every right to stand beside the ruler of the Elfkin.

I watch, completely stunned. Who was this woman who dared such a breach of etiquette in front of her own King?

"Vevina," the King says, his voice tinged with frustration. "You’re not supposed to be here. Go clean yourself up."

She doesn’t argue even though I can clearly see in her eyes that she wants to. Instead, with a defiant look, one I almost admire, she turns on her heel and leaves the hall.

Leaving nothing but a trail of dirt behind her. As the door swings shut once again, I realize I still haven’t looked away.

"Forgive the interruption," the King says, waving off the incident as if it were nothing. "My daughter is... impulsive."

Daughter. That takes me off guard. She isn’t some servant or forgotten noblewoman. She’s the King’s daughter. A princess.

But even so, he dismissed her as if she were no more than a child playing in the dirt. There was no explanation given, no attempt to involve her in whatever diplomatic matters were taking place here.

I supposed that was typical of the Elfkin. She was, after all, only a female in their eyes. And yet... there was something about her, something that stirred a strange curiosity in me.

As the King and my companions continue their formal introductions and begin discussing the matters that had brought us here, I find it hard to focus. My mind keeps wandering back to the girl.

Vevina.

There was something about her that had caught my attention and refused to let go. The fire in her eyes, the way she had stormed into the room without a care for the rigid decorum expected of her rank.

She was wild, unrefined, completely unlike the polished women of the court I was accustomed to. And even covered in dirt, she was beautiful. More so than anyone I’d ever seen.

Her blue eyes lingered in my thoughts, like the flicker of something untouchable, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. The way she moved, the confidence, the defiance. There was something about her that made her unforgettable.

I should’ve been focusing on the negotiations, on the task at hand, but instead, I kept thinking about her. Something about her had struck a chord deep within me, deep enough my dragon half took notice. Though I didn’t understand why.

Maybe it was her spirit, her beauty, or maybe it was the way she didn’t care for the roles or expectations of her station. Whatever it was, I couldn’t ignore it.

And as the conversation with the king continued, one thought kept circling in my mind:

“You’ve not told her yet have you?” I interrupt suddenly.

The King pauses, mid-sentence, his brow furrowing. There’s a brief silence in the hall as all eyes turn to me. His gaze flicking to mine, stern and measured, but I can see the tension behind it.

"Told her what, exactly?" he asks, though his voice carries an edge, as if he already knew what I was referring to but doesn’t want to address it.

"About this agreement. About why we’re here," I reply, my voice steady but pointed. "Your daughter. Vevina. She has no idea, does she?"

The King’s jaw tightens and the weight of the room shifts. Falkor and Drago straighten, sensing the shift in tone as well. The guards along the walls seem to grow more rigid, but I don’t care. I need an answer.

The King sighs, waving a hand dismissively, though there was an underlying tension in his movements. “She is not involved in these matters. There is no need for her to be burdened with such... details.”

Details. The King speaks as if her future, our future, was nothing more than an inconvenience, an afterthought. I clench my fists at my sides, my frustration rising.

Vevina was not just some pawn to be moved in this game of politics and power. She deserves to know the truth, to be told about the ancient pact that had brought us here. About the betrothal that had been arranged without her knowledge.

“She’s at the heart of this, and yet you’ve told her nothing,” I say, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “You can’t expect this to go smoothly when you’re keeping secrets from your own blood.”

The King’s eyes narrow, his expression hardening. "She is only a female. These are matters for Kings and Princes, not the whims of a young girl who plays in the dirt."

The dismissal hits harder than I expect it to. My chest tightens, anger simmering beneath my skin.

He doesn’t understand her. Doesn’t see her the way I had in that brief, electrifying moment. She wasn’t just some naive princess to be kept in the dark.

She was a fierce woman with a flame that wanted to burn bright but tapped down by those around her.

And she was my betrothed, though she didn’t even know it.

The King once again waves off my concern, quickly moving the conversation back to the formalities, but the bitterness lingers inside of me.

I couldn’t shake the image of her, the way she had looked at him with such defiance, unaware that her entire future was being discussed behind closed doors.

I could still see those bright blue eyes, burning with a fire that couldn’t be extinguished.

And something told me, despite the King’s attempts to shield her from the truth, that fire wouldn’t be kept in the dark for much longer.

Finally joining the conversation to hurry along the so called details, we finish ironing out the marriage contract.

When we are all through with signing the documents, sealed with our blood, we are escorted from the hall by a servant that’ll take us to our rooms.

The grand doors to our chambers creak open as the Elven servant motions for us to enter. It’s a vast, elegant room, with tapestries hanging from the walls and a large window overlooking the castle grounds.

Everything here feels so cold, so calculated. My mind was still reeling from the conversation with the King. The way he so easily dismissed Vevina, as if she were no more than a piece in his political game. It left a bad taste in my mouth.

Falkor and Drago follow me inside, their usual banter quieted by the weight of the situation. Falkor tosses his cloak onto a nearby chair, his lips twisting into a faint smirk, though there was little amusement in his eyes.

"Well," he said, leaning back against the wall, "I have to admit, this wasn’t exactly how I expected things to go. Can’t say I’m surprised the king didn’t tell her, though. Elves and their secrecy." He glances at me, his golden eyes sharp with curiosity. "You think she knows? That she’s getting married later today?"

I shake my head, pacing toward the window. "No," I mutter. "She has no idea. The King made that painfully clear. He doesn’t think she needs to know. Said she’s ‘only a female.’"

Falkor snorts, exchanging a glance with Drago. "Only a female," he repeats with sarcasm, rolling his eyes. "I saw her barge into the hall like she owned the place. Doesn’t seem like the type to take kindly to being kept in the dark. Especially about something like this."

Drago, quieter than Falkor but always more insightful, folds his arms across his chest. "How do you think she’ll react?" he asks, his voice low and thoughtful. "Once she finds out the truth."

I pause, considering the question. The image of Vevina, wild and untamed, flashes in my mind.

The dirt on her dress, the twigs in her hair, and those bright blue eyes filled with so much fire.

There was no way she would take this calmly. She was strong-willed and defiant. She would fight this, I was certain of it.

The idea of being married off without her consent, to a man she didn’t even know... it would enrage her.

"I think she’ll be furious," I admit, my gaze distant as I stare out at the courtyard below. "And she has every right to be. She’s been kept in the dark about all of this. Her entire life is about to change, and no one’s given her a choice."

Falkor shrugs, running a hand through his silver hair. "It’s not like she has much of a choice now. The pact’s already been made, the arrangements are set. Whether she likes it or not, by tonight, you’ll be married."

His words are true, but they don’t sit right with me. Vevina wasn’t just some pawn to be manipulated.

I could still see her standing beside her father, strong and proud despite the King’s obvious dismissal of her.

She isn’t someone who would bend easily, and the thought of forcing this upon her without giving her a chance to even understand, gnawed at me.

"I don’t like it," I say, finally turning back to face them. "It feels wrong. She deserves to know. She deserves to have a say in this."

Drago, who had been silent for most of the conversation, steps forward. "It’s not just about her," he reminds me, his deep voice steady. "This union is more than a marriage—it’s about the survival of our people. The bond between Elves and Dragons is the only way to ensure that. You said so yourself.”

I knew he was right. The ancient pact was more than just an agreement; it was a lifeline. Our people, the Dragonkin, could not survive without the Elves, just as they could not survive without us.

The magic that tied us together was ancient and powerful. This marriage was a way to reignite that bond. But knowing the reasons behind it didn’t make it any easier to accept the way it was being done.

"I’ll have to face her sooner or later," I say, running a hand through my hair. "And I’m not looking forward to that conversation."

Falkor chuckles, shaking his head. "You’re in for a hell of a day, my friend. She doesn’t seem like the type to take bad news lying down."

"That’s what worries me," I mutter. Because when Vevina finds out, there would be hell to pay and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be the one to break the news.

The marriage was happening, whether we wanted it or not. But how Vevina reacted... that would be the real storm.