The Quest for Dawn

Chapter 17: Unwanted Advances

Tavriel's silhouette glided through the sprawling gardens that bridged the expanse between House Ancunin's grand manor and its imposing front gate. This stretch of curated nature was a buffer of peace, separating the manor's dignified seclusion from the vibrant clamor of Manorborn's thoroughfare beyond.

Her footsteps echoed softly among the vibrant blooms and rustling leaves, each movement a familiar dance in the garden's embrace. Yet, even as her mind wandered to Astarion and the intricate web of high society they were now part of, her steps remained sure and measured. She had learned to navigate this space with the same care she did Astarion's needs, and just as she would lay out his clothes and remove any obstacle that might hinder his way, she tended to the gardens, making sure they too were free from the chaos of the world beyond their gates.

As she reached the ornate wrought-iron gate that marked the end of her sanctuary, Tavriel paused, taking a moment to brace herself for the transition from the tranquility of House Ancunin to the cacophony that awaited.

It was here, on the boundary of two worlds, that Theomin Corthanor, cloaked in his own designs, found his opportunity to shadow her steps, undetected as he followed her down the lane. Lord Corthanor had watched as the elven woman exited the front gates of House Ancunin, keeping a careful distance while fascinated with the flow of her dark blue-black hair. She had braided the sides, the braid itself gathered in the back to sway with the rest of her silken locks.

The song from the soiree had lingered its enchanting embrace upon Theomin's mind for days afterward. The hollow chasm of his heart had been inexplicably filled, and for a moment it was enough. But the days following the events of the Ancunin soiree had caused the chasm to empty and widen, losing the light that filled it like a trickling dam. Soon the waters had dried, leaving an empty desert in the wake of the song.

Tavriel. The moon elf maiden who had captured the heart of a predator; of an invalid, no less. Her beauty was unmatched, in spite of her obvious humble upbringing. A picturesque visage of elven elegance dressed in the clothes of a commoner, though refined with a touch of embroidery. Emboldened by his going unnoticed, he walked down the lane several paces behind her, mesmerized by the sway of her hair.

There was a gentle hum of a tune floating to his ears, and Theomin realized it was wisps of Tavriel's voice; a lilting melody of happiness, wordless and free. It wasn't quite the same as the magic of the song from the soiree, but it was equally filled with a mystifying beauty that coiled his heart. The elven maid's spirit was unbound, and walked alone into the bustle of Manorborn—leaving him to wonder about her safety that Lord Ancunin could obviously not provide.

As he followed, Theomin's thoughts spun an internal tale of justification. The pursuit was noble, a silent vigil—entranced as he was by her simple melody of love, though it was meant for another. It was during these fanciful musings that a chance arose—an opportunity he construed as fate. Tavriel's path led her to the market, bustling and vibrant, filled with opportunities for an encounter that could seem coincidental.

He hastened his pace, narrowing the distance between them, when a sudden disruption—a cart barreling past—forced Tavriel to step aside. It was then he made his move, "accidentally" bumping into her in the crowded lane. Tav had stumbled from the collision, and Theomin boldly reached out to her slender shoulders to steady her.

"Oh! My apologies, Lady Tavriel," said Lord Corthanor, carefully masking his deference, his hands delaying their removal from her shoulders. A moment too long, and he quickly withdrew his touch. "The streets are quite treacherous this morning," he added, as an attempt to downplay the faux pas.

Tav's gaze flickered with recognition, an eyebrow arched over her iridescent scrutiny of the gold elf nobleman. "They are, indeed. One must be agile in the bustling streets, it would seem."