Sallitia: Age of War

11

While events unfolded in Rohan, Faelyn returned to Hisidore with a lightness in her step that had been absent for some time. After stabling her mare, Tauriel, and ensuring the elven horse was well-fed and brushed, she made her way toward the palace, the melody of a soft tune escaping her lips as she walked. Her path was illuminated by the gentle glow of the forest, the palace’s crystalline spires shimmering against the fading sunlight.

Inside the grand throne room, Eburon, her father, stood over a sprawling map of Sallitia, his brow furrowed as he strategized with Alvanar, her elder brother. The weight of leadership bore heavily on both their shoulders, evident in their serious expressions as they discussed defensive maneuvers and the ever-present threat of conflict.

"Avevan ada. Avevan Alvanar." Faelyn greeted warmly, kissing them each on the cheek in turn. Her presence briefly softened the somber mood, and for a moment, Eburon’s cold demeanor thawed as he returned her affectionate gesture with a rare, faint smile.

“You seem in high spirits, sister.” Alvanar noted, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her glowing face.

Faelyn only hummed a cheerful tune in response, her lips curving into a secretive smile as she turned and left the room.

“It seems something happened during her ride.” Alvanar remarked, watching her retreating form. He straightened, adjusting the leather bracer on his arm. “I’ll find out what it is.”

Eburon didn’t lift his gaze from the map, his fingers tracing the borders of Hisidore. “Do not press her too hard if she chooses not to share. The most important thing is that she is happy.”

Alvanar hesitated, then nodded. “Understood, ada.” 

Faelyn’s chamber, nestled in the southern wing of the palace, was a haven of natural beauty. Sunlight bathed the room in golden hues during the day, and at night, moonlight spilled through the arched windows, casting silvery shadows over the forest flowers that adorned every corner.

She sat at her intricately carved dressing table, brushing her long, fiery red hair with a brush inlaid with golden patterns. Her soft humming filled the room as her thoughts drifted to the day’s events and a particular young prince with sky-blue eyes. So lost was she in her reverie that she didn’t notice Alvanar’s presence until his reflection appeared in the mirror, leaning casually against the post of her bed.

"Alvanar!" she exclaimed, startled. “I didn’t even notice you come in.”

He smirked, crossing his arms. “That doesn’t surprise me. Your mind has been elsewhere since you returned. Tell me, sister, what happened?”

“A lot, brother.” she replied, setting down her brush and turning to face him, her cheeks tinged with a rosy blush. “All of it wrapped up in one word: love.”

Alvanar blinked in astonishment, standing upright. “You are in love with someone!?” His voice teetered between disbelief and protectiveness.

Faelyn rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing on her lips. “He is so dear to me, Alvanar. He is gentle, kind, and selfless. Unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”

Alvanar arched a skeptical brow. “Does this mystery suitor of yours have a name? Or at least a head I can put an arrow through?”

That earned him a hard shove from Faelyn, sending him sprawling onto her bed. “What is wrong with you?!” she huffed, her arms crossed. “You’re not shooting arrows through anyone’s head! I am not a child, Alvanar! I’ve had enough of you and ada treating me like one!”

Despite her words, the corner of Alvanar’s mouth quirked into a grin. “You will always be my titta seler (elv. little sister.)” he teased, reaching out and grabbing her wrist.

Before she could protest, he launched into an all-out tickling assault, eliciting a shriek of laughter from her. “Alvanar! Stop it!” she giggled, squirming in his grip.

To his surprise, Faelyn fought back, tickling him in return. Their laughter filled the room, echoing through the palace halls. For a fleeting moment, the burdens of war and duty melted away, and they were children again, carefree and full of joy.

When they finally collapsed onto the bed, breathless from laughter, Alvanar gazed at her with a softer expression. “You know I promised Naneth I would protect you.” he said gently. “It’s a promise I intend to keep, no matter what.”

Faelyn’s smile faded slightly as she met his gaze. “I know, Alvanar. And I love you for it. But…” She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “I can’t tell you who my chosen one is. Not yet. All I can say is… he is unlike the others of his race.”

Alvanar’s protective instincts flared at her words, but he held his tongue. Instead, he sighed and reached out to ruffle her hair affectionately. “You’re as stubborn as ada sometimes.”

“And you’re as overbearing as him.” she shot back, her grin returning.

He chuckled, standing and brushing off his tunic. “Just promise me one thing, Faelyn.”

“What’s that?”

“Be careful. And when the time comes, introduce this mystery man to me so I can decide whether or not he deserves you.”

Faelyn laughed, shaking her head. “You’ll be the first to know, Alvanar. I promise.”