Chapter Text
Ayerdryn had never expected to be married off. In hindsight, he probably should have seen it coming from the strings of failed after failed meetings with potential suitors from suitably powerful families, from the constant lectures from Iveron about how he needed to do something for the family to justify his own existence, from the apologetic looks his mother had been sending him for the last few weeks. Still, he had never in his wildest dreams would have imagined that he would be betrothed to King Pervalor of Yethia.
News of Queen Elidove’s death was well known, but no one had thought that her husband would shed the blacks of morning so quickly. Then, with Yethia closing it’s boarders, it seemed as if the other court families were reluctant to hand over their children who could provide them with much more useful powers within Ostrana. Though, apparently, the Miraberos had an involved enough relationship to justify such a match. Honestly, the reeling in Ayerdryn’s head half made him wish that he had more attention in his lessons when they had been discussing the forign country. He had almost no idea what he was stepping into. Besides, the king had a son. It didn’t seem proper to be taking a match with someone the same age as your child. Then again, if you had enough power then it seemed people really could get away with anything.
He stared out of the carriage window. So far, Yethia was much more craggy than the Spring court. The lack of continuous blooms dotting his vision filled him with a sense of homesickness already. He wasn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t traveled anywhere. He hadn’t done anything significant in his life. He was barely an adult! He wasn’t ready to get married and be forced to stay in one place for the rest of his life. Besides, his betrothed already scared him. There was no moral reason going through his head for why a powerful king would want him for marriage. It wasn’t like he had ever told anyone he had always found men more beautiful than women. Did people know anyway? Was this supposed to be his punishment from the world for his secret, inner thoughts?
Ayerdryn should his head roughly and wiped away the beginnings of tears in his eyes. Thoughts like those wouldn’t be productive. This was happening whether he wanted it to or not. It would be best to face the situation with an open mind instead of dooming everything before he had even stepped foot in his future home.
More than anything, he wished that he had at least one of his sisters sitting next to him, anyone really, so he wouldn't feel so alone. But, no, Iveron had explained that everyone would simply be too busy at the moment to attend the wedding. He understood. Of course he did. After all, he had spent the entire day in the carriage and was only now rolling up to one of the most ostentatious places he had ever seen.
A footman rushed up as the carriage rolled to a stop. He was given a bow and a hand to help him step down from the carriage. His small lugage, all except the violin case clutched desperatly in his hand, was already being hiked up the stairs by servants he had barely caught sight of. A new sharply dressed servant met him just inside the door and led him up a winding stairs and halls to the door of a room introduced as his.
The room was nice. It was very fancy. Highly decorated. But in a way that was extremely purposeful. Artificial beauty. The room felt steril to Ayerdryn, like he wasn’t allowed to touch or move anything despite it being his room. The walls almost seemed to be slowly creeping closer and closer the longer he stood at the foot of his new bed.
He rubbed his eyes in an effort to relieve the dizziness overtaking his mind. Fresh air. He needed some fresh air. That had always helped back home. A little airing out might even make the room feel less like a painting and more like a real place. He moved with purpose over the stained glass window. It was tall, divided into two sections by a large piece of wood across the center right above Ayerdryn’s head. He couldn’t see any of the latches he was familiar with from back home. The windows had barely ever been closed back home. Maybe they then just didn’t see the use of latches here. He reached up and placed both hands and the lower part of the framed section and pushed outward. Nothing. Maybe they were just really well secured windows. That’s why they didn’t need a latch, because you needed more force to open them anyways. He pushed harder. Nothing budged. Not an inch. In a surge of exasperation, he slammed both plans down in the thick glass, the raised metal holding together the small pieces of decorative glass pressing into his skin. Nothing. His arms went slack as his head fell forward to press against the cool glass. His teeth were grinding together as he tried to stop the tears from falling onto his cheeks. It was his wedding day, and by the gods above and below he would not cry.
A knock at the door caused him to jump up and instinctively wipe away any trace of wet eyes. “Prince Ayerdryn,” a soft voice came from the door, “I’ve come to help you prepare for the ceremony.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Yes, please come in!” Ayerdryn quickly pushed his hair back in place and did his best to seem as if he had been admiring the view instead of banging his head against the window. He turned around at the sound of the door closing to see a small elven woman dressed in simple yet clean clothing and delicately laying out robes on the bed.
She straightened and gave him a short bow. “Would you like a bath after your travels? We have many scents you can choose from to help you relax after such a long distance.”
Honestly, he hadn’t gotten very dirty on his ride in a clean and covered carriage. Still, it was probably expected that one looked their best on their wedding day. And besides, he felt a little worn out after his boughs of almost crying. “That sounds wonderful, thank you.”
He followed the woman through a side door he hadn’t paid attention to before. Behind it was a another slightly smaller room. There was a large closet along one wall, a changing screen in the corner with a full body mirror beside it. And close to the center of the room while still straddling one wall was a well sized tub already full of streaming water. A table with a glass of water and colorful bottles and soaps stood next to the tub. A thick string dangled within reaching distance of the tub. The woman stood between the tub and the entrance. “Shall I help you undress, Sir?”
“Oh, um, that won’t be necessary.” Ayerdryn gently rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, would I be able to get some privacy while I, um, freshen up?”
“Of course,” she replied. “I’ll be in the other room. Please just ring the bell,” she gestured at the tick string, “if you need anything.”
“Of course, thank you.”
She bowed again and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Ayerdryn let out a breath of tension with her departure and glanced at the tub. A warm bath actually sounded very nice. He searched the bottles until he found a lavender scented oil to sprinkle in the water. He quickly undressed and submersed himself in the warm water.
By the gods he wished he could stay here surrounded by this warmth forever. It was definitely better than trying to imagine what waited for him on the other side of the door. Wedding robes he had no say in and a husband whom he knew even less about. With a sigh he dunked his head beneath the water and began to wash his hair. If nothing else, he drew comfort from the familiar motions.
All too soon, the water had cooled and he forced himself out before he grew wrinkly. The towel hanging nearby was fluffy but foreign. He considered ringing the bell, but moved to the door instead, still wrapped in only the towel. The woman was standing near the large vanity, laying out supplies most likely to make him look his best. She jerked up and gave a bow when Ayerdryn cleared his throat to alert her to his presence.
“Prince Ayerdryn! Ah, may I help you with your hair?” She approaches to a respectful distance.
“Oh, um, sure. Yes.”
With a nod, she moved behind him, muttered a few words, and wove wind through his hair. It was thoroughly dry in moment. Ayerdryn ran a hand through the loose strands. “Thank you.”
The woman nodded and headed towards the clothes laid out on the bed. He fidgeted as picked up underclothes to bring to him.
“Um, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course!” She said. “I am here to serve you today.”
“Right, well, um, would you say that magic is common here in Yethia?”
“Yes,” she answered as she approached. “ I believe that just about any Elf who is considered anyone has mastered some form of the art.”
Ayerdryn nodded, relieved that at least his hobby wouldn’t be also taken away from him. He blushed as she moved to help him the underclothes before assuring her that he could do that part himself. Ayerdryn was used to a nice lifestyle, but he had never been waited on to such a degree. It just wasn’t a practical use of family resources to lay people to help him dress. But then again, this was the royal family. And it was his wedding day.
He stood still as a puppet while the woman helped him into the many layers of the wedding robes. He wanted to rattle off all the questions bouncing around his head, but the woman seemed so intent on her job that he felt it would be rude to disturb her. When he was sat at the vanity, though, and her fingers started running through his hair, he couldn’t stop himself from needing to know something, anything, about the woman now becoming intimate with his hair, a job usually regulated to his siblings as they chatted happily before events. “So have you worked in the castle long?”
“Yes,” she began. “I was lucky enough to get an apprenticeship under one of the royal tailor’s assistants.”
“Oh, congratulations! So I’m guessing this,” he gestured around him, “isn’t part of your usual duties?”
“No, sir. But her late Majesty’s handmaiden died of a broken heart not long after she left us. I’m sure that his Majesty will find someone permanent for you soon, Prince.” Ayerdryn have a small nod as if he was concerned with such matters.
His hair was quickly twisted up into a complicated series of knots interwoven with blooms cascading down his back. The exact type of flower was unknown to him, but the site of the buds were familiar enough for him to cling to for any sense of familiarity. With his hair done and his robes draped perfectly over his body, the woman informed him that unless he needed anything else she would be back soon for to collect him for the ceremony.
As the door closed behind her, the reality hit Ayerdryn of just how quickly this was all happening. He had been in this land for less than a few hours and in less than another he would probably be married. Suddenly, he was glad that he was still sitting down as he was sure he would have collapsed at the thought. Dizziness made it difficult to grasp any particular thought from the many rushing through his head, but he couldn’t ignore the lump trying to claw up his throat. He took as big of a breath as he could. An overwhelming wave was threatening to consume him, but he knew that he couldn’t dare to let it wash over him.