Sallitia: Age of War

5

Several years passed, and with each one, the shadows of war grew thicker, their darkness casting a heavy pall over the kingdom. Princess Faelyn was blossoming, her beauty and spirit as radiant as the silver stars she so loved, but even she could not ignore the unease around her. Conflict was no longer a whispered fear but a daily presence, as battles erupted between humans and magical creatures, each skirmish tearing further at the fragile peace.

One afternoon, queen Laralythia stood in the castle courtyard, watching over her two children. The little prince and princess played by her side, unaware of the tension that marred their mother’s usually serene gaze. A crown rested on Laralythia's brow, a circlet of silver inlaid with a white gem that caught the light in prismatic hues. It had been a gift from king Eburon, a crown forged by the finest dwarven smiths, and it served as both a symbol of his love and a bond to the ancient elven magic embedded within it. It was said that with a touch, the stone could reveal a glimpse of its wearer’s memories, a gift and a burden to anyone who bore it.

The sound of hooves shattered the stillness. Laralythia turned, her eyes narrowing as a company of elven soldiers rode into the courtyard. At the head of the company, astride a mighty stag, was king Eburon. His expression was grave, the weight of the recent battles evident in his solemn gaze and the set of his jaw.

“Ada!” Faelyn and Alvanar cried in unison, breaking into a run toward their father. Eburon dismounted, scooping his children up in his arms, and for a moment, the sorrow lifted from his eyes. But his gaze soon found Laralythia, and he held her gaze with a look that needed no words. She knew what it meant—the fight had been hard, and they had lost many.

"Welcome back, my king." she murmured, her voice soft yet steady.

Eburon nodded as he gently set Alvanar and Faelyn down. He removed his bow and quiver of arrows, placing them carefully on a nearby table as he began to unfasten his silver armor. His face was weary, but Faelyn’s eyes sparkled as she seized upon the opportunity.

“Ada, can I try your bow?” she pleaded, her small hands reaching eagerly for the weapon. “Please?”

Eburon raised an eyebrow but nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “If you think you can handle it.” he said, watching as Faelyn lifted the bow with all her strength—only to stumble beneath its weight and nearly topple to the ground.

A chuckle escaped Alvanar. "Why don’t you take your own, Faelyn?” he teased. “I’ll show you how it’s done. You know I’m the best archer in all of Sallitia.”

Eburon retrieved a smaller, white bow with intricate golden details and a quiver of delicate silver arrows, crafted just for Faelyn. Her eyes lit up as she took it, and she gazed at her father with adoration.

“It’s beautiful.” she whispered, her fingers tracing the carvings. “Thank you, ada.”

As the children admired their new weapon, Laralythia stepped forward, lifting Eburon’s bow from the table with an amused glint in her eye. “Alright, little warriors.” she said, feigning sternness. “It’s already late. Time for bed.”

“Nooo!” Alvanar and Faelyn chorused, laughing as they attempted to escape.

But Eburon was quicker. He caught them both up in his arms, holding them tight as they wriggled and giggled. “What if naneth and I tell you a story?” he asked, his tone coaxing. “Will you go to sleep then?”

The little ones exchanged a look and then nodded. Eburon carried them to his and Laralythia’s chambers, where they settled into the large bed, their eyes bright with anticipation.

Laralythia took a seat beside them, and with a soft voice, she began the tale of Tinúviel and Beren. Her words painted vivid images in the children’s minds, of a forest bathed in starlight, of Tinúviel’s ethereal beauty as she danced through the shadows, her hair shimmering like woven starlight.

When she spoke of Beren’s long journey, his trials through dark woods and frozen mountains, Faelyn’s eyes filled with awe. “Tinúviel loved Beren and stayed with him instead of returning to the Undying Lands.” she whispered, almost to herself. “It’s as beautiful a love as the one you and ada have. I hope I will find that kind of love one day.”

Eburon’s brows knit slightly as he reached over, brushing his daughter’s cheek with a gentle thumb. “You, young lady, can start chasing boys when I leave for the Undying Lands. And three days after that, just to be sure.”

Laralythia laughed softly, wrapping an arm around her husband’s shoulder. “She will find her way, Eburon. And so will Alvanar. But for now, they are our little ones.”

When the story ended, Eburon and Laralythia quietly rose, leaving the children’s chamber as Alvanar and Faelyn drifted into slumber. They paused in the hallway, where moonlight spilled through the arched windows, casting silvered shadows across the stone floor.

Laralythia’s gaze softened as she looked at her husband. “One day,” she said gently, “you will have to let her go.”

Eburon sighed, his fingers tracing the edge of his tunic. “But she’s my little girl.” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “No man could ever be worthy of her.”

Laralythia reached out, taking his hand in hers. “Many thought I wasn’t worthy of you either.” she reminded him. “You were a prince, the heir to the throne, and I was just the captain of the royal guard. Your father was against our marriage, too. But in the end, he gave in.”

Eburon’s lips quirked into a faint smile as he turned to face her fully. “I suppose you’re right.” he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. “But no matter how much time passes, no matter how many battles I fight, the thought of her leaving still… weighs heavy.”

Laralythia stepped closer, resting her head against his chest. “She will always be your daughter, our daughter.” she whispered, her voice warm and steady. “And one day, she’ll look back on this time with us, and she’ll remember how fiercely she was loved.”

Eburon’s arms tightened around her as he pressed a kiss to the crown on her head. In the silence of the night, they stood together, a king and queen, parents and partners, with only the moonlight as their witness to this quiet promise—a promise that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.