Elven Oath

Chapter 5

Aodhan

F alkor and Drago were both in their formal dragon attire. The deep reds and golds of their ceremonial robes catching the light from the windows in the room.

They stood by the door, engaged in hushed conversation. I could tell they were waiting for my signal to leave.

However, I stay seated on the edge of the bed, my mind far from the rituals I was expected to follow.

A wedding. An alliance between dragons and elves. It was the stuff of ancient legends, long before the war had torn us apart.

And now, here I was, about to bind myself to one of them. A woman I hadn’t even been properly introduced to. A woman who, from all indications, had no idea yet what was about to happen.

Vevina.

Her name echoes in my mind as I think back to the great hall earlier. That brief moment when she’d stormed through the doors, completely disheveled, with twigs in her hair and dirt smudged all over her dress. It was like she’d been wandering through the forests.

She hadn’t bowed to the king. Hadn’t even acknowledged the strangers in the room. There had been something wild about her, something that didn’t quite fit with the poised and controlled air I’d expected from an Elven princess.

And those bright blue eyes had been filled with life. She hadn’t seemed like the type to sit still, let alone be trapped in the politics of a marriage she had no part in arranging. But that was exactly what was about to happen.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. My fingers brushing the ceremonial circlet that had been placed on my head. It felt strange, uncomfortable, but that was the least of my concerns.

I had been told about this alliance in vague terms and promised that it would heal the rift between our people. That through this marriage, peace would once again reign. But no one had mentioned how abruptly it would all unfold.

"You’re awfully quiet," Falkor says, breaking into my thoughts. He crosses the room to sit beside me on the bed. His crimson robes swinging around him. "Second thoughts about this whole marriage business?"

I look at him with a wry smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "More like first thoughts. I still don’t know why it’s happening."

Drago, who had been leaning against the wall, chuckles softly. "We all know why. Political alliances, ancient pacts, all that nonsense. The bigger question is, how do you think the girl reacted when she found out that she is the bride?"

Falkor grins. "If she’s anything like she was in the throne room earlier, I’d wager she’s currently not too pleased. Not exactly the docile Elven bride the stories speak of from the looks of her, is she?"

"Far from it," I mutter, my thoughts wandering back to the moment Vevina had burst into the hall.

There had been defiance in her stride, an utter lack of concern for the formality of the situation. It was clear she hadn’t known who I was, or what I represented. To her, I was just another visitor, someone of little importance to her life.

"Do you think her father actually told her before the ceremony?" Falkor asks, leaning back and stretching his arms.

I shake my head. "He probably thinks she doesn’t need to know. My best guess is that she has figured it out from the maids by now."

Drago’s expression darkens slightly. "I’ve heard the Elves can be like that. The women have little say in matters of state."

"Still," Falkor adds, "there’s no telling how she’ll react during the ceremony. And she will go through with it. There’s no way around that."

I nod as a sense of unease begins to gnaw at me. I had no desire to marry a woman under false pretenses, nor to spring such life-altering news on her at the last possible moment.

But what choice did I have? This wasn’t just about me or her, it was about the future of our two peoples. A peace we had fought for over generations, and the price of that peace was this marriage.

"I don’t think she’s the type to take this lying down," I said quietly, more to myself than to them. "She’ll fight it. I can feel it."

"Maybe that’s not such a bad thing," Drago says, his voice thoughtful. "A bit of fire in her will do you some good. After all, you’ll be spending the rest of your life with her."

"Assuming she doesn’t try to kill me first," I mutter dryly.

The thought makes Falkor laugh, but my mind remains heavy with uncertainty. I had seen arranged marriages before.

All of them were cold, formal affairs where neither party had any say in the matter. But there was something about Vevina, something that told me this wouldn’t be like any other alliance.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts, and one of the Elven guards steps in. "The ceremony is about to begin, my lord. The King requests your presence."

Standing up, I smooth down my robes, feeling the weight of my decision pressing down on me. This was it. The moment I had been prepared for, but not fully ready to accept. I glance over at Falkor and Drago, who give me reassuring nods before I head for the door.

As we make our way to the main hall, my thoughts return to Vevina. Does she know yet? Would her father or anyone else have told her by now? Or would she walk into the ceremony as blindly as she had walked into the great hall earlier?

As we enter the great hall once again, we take a moment to look around us. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking. The high, vaulted ceilings are draped in shimmering banners of silver and green, the colors of the Elven royal house. Candles line the walls, flickering light across the stone floors. The room was filled with both Elf and Dragon nobility, gathered together for the first time in centuries, though there was an unmistakable tension in the air.

At the far end of the hall stood the altar, and there, beside her father, was Vevina.

She was absolutely stunning. The twigs and dirt from earlier had been replaced with elegance and grace. Her hair woven into intricate braids adorned with delicate flowers. The emerald and silver gown she wore shimmered as she moved, the fabric flowing like water around her. Yet there was a stiffness in her posture, a look of unease in her eyes.

She was absolutely pissed.

My stomach tightened as I approach the King, my steps slow and deliberate. Her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment, and there was a flicker of something maybe. But no understanding. Not yet.

And then the King steps forward, his voice booming as he begins the ceremony, welcoming the union between our two people.

Vevina’s eyes widen, and in that instant, I saw it. The moment she realized there was no getting out of this.

Her gaze snaps to her father with what looks to be hatred, then back to me before she schools her lovely face into a serene mask. A mask that remains in place through the entire ceremony.