Chapter 3:
Strike two… three.

 

Darvion wanted to meet in the garden in the gazbo. He planned to have wine and a charcuterie board set for them. The Sylvarae prince had the air of opulence to him that Valendria wasn't sure to make of. His hand writing scrawled across the paper is beautiful flourishes, though his word choice suggest that her language wasn't his first. It would be fun to learn a new language if Darvion asked it of her.

Valendria was lost in thought about this, as she walked the hall, towards the gardens. She was so focused on the letter in her hand, and trying to puzzel out which word he might have actually meant that she didn't see Leontius waiting for her at the entrance to the garden.

"My lady," He bowed to her, his voice drawing Valendria's attention. "I know I am jumping my turn in line. I heard what happened with Tristian, and I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize? Whatever for?"

"He is not a good representative of my sex," Leontius replied, a blush colouring his cheeks. "I went to collage with him for a few years, and he's outrageously arrogant. I feel embarrassed just hearing the things he said about you."

Valendria's heart thumped against her ribcage. She'd heard of Leontius kindness and was not left disappointed. Though she truly hadn't expected him to apologize to her for his peers words, it did endear him to her further.

"Thank you Leontius, it means a lot to hear."

Leontius bowed again, deeply. As he stood he cast a glance into the garden. "That out of the way, there are two more reasons I wished to speak to you before you see Darvion." Leontius rubbed the back of his neck. His black curly hair shielding his eye, as his body language turned sheepish. "Darvion has bit of reputation for fetishising Teren, man or woman. He leaves many feeling uncomfortable."

Valendria placed a hand over her heart and gasped, taking a step back. While it was known the culture of the Sylvarae and Aeltharaas a whole were vastly different than that of Middloom, to hear such a thing was a shock. "Th-thank you for the warning."

Leontius inclined his head, looking over his shoulder as an older gentleman walked up to him. "I need a moment longer." Leontius mumbled looking over his shoulder at the man, before looking back at Valendria. "I wish I had more time, but I seem to be cut short. The short of it, is princess, my father's first choice has accepted our proposal. I must return to Foryostis immediately. I wished to stay and fulfil my commitment."

Leontius extended his hand towards Valendria, and she slipped her fingers against his palm. He dropped to his knee and pressed his lips to her knuckles in a chaste kiss. Then he stood again, and placed his free hand over Valendria's, an apologetic smile on his face. "As you know, us only children have a certain responsibility to our families and our sires. I do hope you understand. I sense we might have gotten along well."

"I do understand Leontius," Valendria smiled squeezing his hand. "and you are quite right. We do. I hope she brings you happiness and if you need advice don't hesitate. I'm pretty good at knowing what women are thinking."

Leontius chuckled, opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a cough down the hall from the gentleman from earlier. He let out a heavy sigh. "I wish you luck in finding your future husband Valendria, consider me a friend and ally if you ever need the Seas." He inclined his head, turned without saying anything more and the pair quickly disappeared down the hall and out of sight.

Valendria stood there watching their backs until they rounded a corner and turned her attention back to the garden. The Lumasprites were out in droves, likely because of Prince Darvion presents. She pulled the letter from the pocket she'd slipped it into when her and Leontius had started speaking. Such lovely handwriting, was he really that perverted? There was suddenly a heavy pit in her stomach.

 

@)==

 

Darvion was one of the most beautiful creatures she'd ever seen. Long blond hair, fell down his back straight. He wore grey robes with silver seams that caught the light at just the right angle. The robes had a hood and swept the top of his shoes that seemed to be made of a matte black fabric. He turned to her as she stepped up behind him his were the colour of green emeralds and sparkled with mirth.

"Princess! I'm so glad you joined us," He held his arms out, the robes making it hard to figure out the shape of his body. But he was tall, maybe one of the tallest man Valendria had met.

"Us?"

"Yes," He responded, a bright smile on his face. "Myself and the Lumaspirtis."

As if on cue a couple Lumasprites floated over their tinkling sounding voices belaying their arrival. They surrounded Valendria making, she guessed, happy noises. The sound had her smiling herself. The spirits danced around the princess's dress and through her braided hair. Likely attracted by the beads that had been woven within. The dress Valendria wore was pink satin with organza flowers scattered along the fabric in a myriad of colours. The spirits played hide and seek within the flowers making the princess giggle as she watched them play.

"Surprisingly beautiful," Darvion spoke just loud enough for Valendria to hear.

"Why surprisingly?"

"Um, well," Darvion hesitated, placing a hand over the lower half of his face. Colour spread up over the top of his fingers, his eyes trailed all over Valendria. "We, um, don't typically find Teren that attractive." Darvion spoke slowly and deliberatively. "The fact the Lumasprites like you and you seem to have an affinity for them, is attractive in its own rights."

Valendria cocked an eyebrow at him. "Lord Darvion, no doubt word has reached you, about what Lord Tristian said about me, whatever you have to say to me, or about me, or Teren in general could not surely be worse than what he said to me."

Darvion stared at Valendria a moment, before dropping his hand, and placed his arms one over the top of the other. He stood straight and all and looked into her eyes. The smile on his face never faulted, though the blush did darken across his face and there was an odd look in his eyes. "My lady, your a beautiful in your ugliness."

'Beautiful in your ugliness.'

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Valendria's heart tightened in her chest, threatening to steal her breathe. What was with these men? Why did they pursue her if they honestly thought her this unworthy?

"Your language is so ineloquent." Darvion huffed, crossing his arms. "You are so ugly you are beautiful, exotic, Valendria. Even your name does something to my tongue. A word that's nonexistent in your language. I would dress you in Lumasprites, just to see you glow. I would paint you in gold, lay you across my bed and drive you mindless. I strain just thinking about it."

Valendria stepped back from Darvion. While she wasn't certain that the Sylvarae prince was fetishising her, she did understand why people were left uncomfortable after spending time with him. The Sylvarae language must be rather poetic if the translation to her language failed so badly. She was unsure exactly what to do.

"I have made you uncomfortable," Darvion observed. "Why don't we move onto other topics. I've brought wine, cheese and meats from my country, I wish to share them with you."

Valendria nodded; this felt safe. "Alright. I'd love to try them." Darvion extended his hand to her, and Valendria placed her hand into his and he led her to the gazebo.

 

The charcuterie board was heavily laden with more than just cheese and meat. There were fruits and vegetables that she recognized as local. She smiled faintly at that, picking up a cracker and putting some green cheese on it.

The flavour that spread across her taste buds was sour at first, quickly changing to a sweet but salty flavour quickly chased by the creaminess of the cheese.

Valendria coughed, hand over her mouth, as tears collected at the corner of her eyes. "I was not expecting that."

"A plant from Athantress," Darvoin said as he sat beside her, picking up what looked like an apple slice. "It starts out very bitter and quickly becomes sweet. It produces a unique flavour that I just adore." He bit into the slice of fruit and paused, before clearing his throat. "That, is so unusual."

Valendria reached out, taking some of the same fruit and took a bite. It was apple but it was a sour one. She shook her head that flavour certainly not going with the cheese she'd just tasted.

"Yes, that's a sour apple." she picked up a napkin and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

"I was expecting it to turn sweet, just like my cheese," Darvoin confessed.

"I'm afraid sour apples stay sour here. Our fruit is either one or the other. Though with some type of berries, its a bit of a crapshoot whether its sweet or bitter. One taste could be sweet, the next sour."

"Crap shoot," Darvoin echoed. "I know what those words means apart, but what do they mean together?"

"A gamble?"

Darvoin was silent a moment. "Definitely better than what I thought it might have meant. Though I am a bit confused as to what gamble means. My understanding, gamble is another word for bet, which involves a game of chance usually involving money."

"This is true." Valendria then proceeded to explain the difference in the meaning of the word depending on how its being used.

 

@)==

 

Valendria stared at herself in her mirror, her cheek pressed into the heel of her palm. The afternoon with Darvoin hadn't gone nearly as bad as she expected, after Leontius's warning. She enjoyed the wine he brought; it didn't burn like the Teren wine and she found herself drinking a little to much. So now she suffered a bit of a headache, the charcuterie board hadn't been quite enough to fend that off.

Right now she was supposed to be getting dressed for the feast tonight. She wasn't looking forward to it. Between Darvoin's weird use of her language and the unknown that was Noctis, an unease was settling into her stomach.

'Beautiful in your ugliness'

That line hadn't left her mind the moment Darvoin uttered it. The more she thought about it, the more time she spent with the man, she realised he meant it a compliment, she'd also become less uncomfortable.

"Ugh, it would be so much simpler if I could marry John," Valendria bemoaned, crossing her arms over top of the vanity and lowered her head to rest her chin on her arms. "I wouldn't have to leave the only home I knew."

"You'd also be with a man you love and loves you back," A lady in waiting walked from the closet with two dresses in hand.

"I don't know why you insist I love him," Valendria glared at the woman over her shoulder, through the mirror.

"I'm a mother of a sixteen year old daughter," she responded. "I know pining when I see it, or in this case, hear it."

Valendria looked over her shoulder properly at the woman, still resting her head on her arms. This woman was the closest she had to a mother figure and as a result confided in her as such. The daughter the woman spoke of, used to be their little shadow. Where ever the woman went that little girl wasn't far behind. Having no siblings, Valendria took the chance at a playmate and played whatever games the little girl wanted. The woman's older children were around her own age but that was about it.

"What exactly does love feel like then?" Valendria asked, standing to her feet and walked over, picking out a mossy green dress. "What I feel for my dad, cannot be the same that I feel for a husband."

"You're right. That's familial love," the woman put the other dress back and came back a moment later. "The love of a partner, is something deeper; different. Take a moment, and ask yourself, how would you feel if John just up and walked away one day. Or your future husband fired him."

Valendria took a moment to picture the rest of her life without John, and a tightness in her chest stole her breathe. She'd not felt this sort of pain and grief since her own mother passed. She looked to the woman, her bright-green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The woman gave Valendria a knowing smile.

"When you cannot think of living without someone, that's love," She said as she started to help her princess into the dress she picked.

"I love John," Valendria mumbled, mindlessly allowing the woman to dress her. She'd never once thought that John wouldn't be in her life and the idea of him not be there, distressed her. But was it love, or a feeling of being unsafe? No… Even if her future husband gave her a new body guard, it wouldn't be John, but she'd still feel safe. "I thought I only wanted to marry him because he was my friend, he was familiar and I knew what I'd be getting into."

"Sometimes the greatest love comes from friendship."

"But what should I do?"

"I can't answer that. What I'd do, what I think you should do, is through the lens of a common woman and not a princess. You'll have to tread that path by yourself." The pair stared at each other a moment before the woman smiled. "Come along my Lady, we need to get you dressed for the feast."

 

The feast ended up being a disaster. Darovin was already married; he didn't realise polygamy wasn't allowed in the Teren kingdoms and was sent from the Castle. This caused an uproar, so much so John dragged Valendria to the gallery above and stood in front of her in case stray shrapnel or a wayward spell came their way. Eventually both Teren and Sylvarae solders managed to drag Darvoin away from the King and escorted him out of Grand Hall.

Noctis stood aside, leaning against a wall, having been watching the whole thing. He grinned up at the princess and raised a goblet to her. He was the only one left…