Chapter Text
Long ago, in another realm, stood the majestic Thra’dria. Once the home of gods and titans, its lands now harbour wonder, harmony and progress of different races. It stands west of Faeland, along the coast of the Doran Sea. To its far north, Unknown territory and to its west, the Emyr Forest, overrun with Elves.
It was not always a time of peace in Thra’dria. There was a great battle between the Five Great Houses and the Elves for the Aurorabelis, an enabler for mages to control their magic. Without it, almost all magic becomes dangerous. They were only collected from the pollen of Emerst flowers, in Emyr Forest. The war lasted for 200 years.
Our story begins with an arranged marriage between the Great House of Corrono and the Wood Elves, in hopes of a peace pact to be forged.
- - -
Year 10 191 AE.
It was a bright sunny day with no snowfall, perhaps a good omen to their visit there. The cold air pressed against Yelena’s face as she stepped down from her carriage. She sees Blairsland’s main hall for the first time. It sits inside a great tree, its branches wrapping around like a shield against the harsh temperament of the forest. Two marble statues of Hawks fitted at the sides of the door, acting as guardians of the magnificent place.
For the past two weeks, eleven soldiers have swarmed her lands, pincering their soldiers and people inside their castle. Her father had been captured, stripped from his title and clothes, sent away into the prison cells of the elves. Her brother had taken leadership after, quickly surrendering and offering a peace pact. She had been taken from her chambers, into the treaty tent, being analysed by multiple soldiers, then sent to another quarters she did not recognise. She ate her meals alone and did not ask the guards questions the few times a day they open her doors. She ran the bath twice a day, mostly to obscure the sound of her own voice.
Only on the fifth day, did her brother enter, announcing she was to be wed to the new leader of the Wood Elves.
Her betroth does not visit her in the days before their wedding.
She only knew about the Elves from books in her castle’s library. That they had the spirits of the forest in them, that they were of the Aurorabelis itself. They protected their land well, refusing the other races to step foot, which ended up being a war called the Long Winter- one that lasted two hundred years when they accused of the humans stealing the flowers from their land. She didn’t know much about the new Elven leader either. Only that their father, the previous leader, passed a few years ago.
And at the end of the two weeks, she was escorted out of her kingdom and into the Emyr Forest.
There were a crowd of common folk elves, pressed against the army who blocked their access to the royal carriages, all eagerly awaiting their arrival. From the corner of her eye, Yelena sees her brother, James Buchanan Barnes, the Duke of House Corrono, and the Duchess, stepping out from their carriage. Her brother tilted his chin upwards, his long sable cloak flowing behind him as he walked into the hall first. Yelena’s own dress was a light gold and green, its silk imported from the Faelands and jewels from even further east. The material hugged her figure in all the right ways and she felt fairly confident in it. She had added on her sister’s silver necklace, along with diamond earrings and the house ring her father had slipped into her palm before she was taken away- a golden lion.
The crowd hollered and cheered.
She stands alone, lost in thought.
She thinks about Natasha- if her sister felt this unprepared for her own marriage pact. She longed to share tea and biscuits with her sister again. She wondered if her sister’s telegrams would travel so deep into the forest. The last letter she had read was a congratulations for her wedding day the night before. Perhaps if the dust has settled, a visit to House Ordos’ home would be in sight. She could be patient. She misses her father’s hugs, her mother’s quick witted tongue.
“Princess?” Warden Sonya leaned towards her, an arm out to usher her towards the door of the Hall.
Yelena snaps out of her stupor.
Right.
The wedding.
She nods and proceeded to the door, right in step with her brother.
The inside of the Hall was a much more magnificent affair than its already grand exterior. On an elevated stage at the end of the room, a marbled throne sat in the middle. Behind the seat hung large tapestries of their main coat of arms, a pair of black hawks with their wings spread, and various other woods creatures. There were two oak tables on each side of the hall, and a long bench on both sides of the tables.
The ceremony was meant to be an elevated symbol of peace. An intended heartwarming display of trust from the elves, to hand fast one of their own with a human.
“Welcome, your highness.” A sharp voice boomed. “The Elves of Emyr Forest welcomes you.”
The ceremony was a quiet affair and Yelena is numb to most of it. A signing on paper from the Old Woods. A splash of blood into the Moon Bowl. A priest speaking in First Elven as she clasp hands with her intended as a band tied their arms together. She murmured the vows she had memorised, anxiety clutching her ribcage.
You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself,
But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give.
You cannot command me, for I am a free person,
But I shall serve you in those ways you require.
And the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.
I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night.
And the eyes into which I smile in the morning.
I pledge to you the first bite from my meat,
And the first drink from my cup.
Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life and into the next.
Yelena does not dare to lift her eyes to her betroth’s face, only feeling a quick peck to her right cheek.
The priest spoke a few more words of prayer as they disentangled their arms. There is fire and feasting before the great table, with hushed whispers and subtle conversation. Her eyes remained towards the floor as the men feasted, though she noticed her betrothed did not eat much either. She only heard her voice, engaging in quiet conversation with the rest of the table.
Then the ceremony was over.
Her brother left her with a kiss on her forehead before she is ushered into another room by her betrothed. There were quick shuffling of feet around her as she takes a few deep breaths in. Beneath her felt like wood, the thin soles of her footwear creating light taps as she is brought in front of a bed.
This was her life now.
Away from everything she had known for the past twenty six years.
“Princess Yelena.”
Her betrothed releases her hand and turns towards her, taking half a step forward and raising her hands. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink as her veil is pulled carefully back from her face. The elf’s hand is so close to her cheek she can feel the warmth of it. So close they are almost touching. Almost.
Then, the elf steps away.
She finally looks up.
Kate Bishop, Protector of the Aurorabelis, Daughter of the Woods and Patron of Ashta.
The woman in front of her wore a dark purple garb, material a lot like silk, with a silver half cape patched with two hawks over her left shoulder. On her head rests a wooden crown carved from a stag’s antlers and ornate with rubies. Dark hair is tied in a braid, which gave a clear look at her blue eyes and pointed ears. Her face was bursting with youth- Yelena knew the new Elven leader was young, but not that she was younger.
“Please. Sit.”
She considers the elven leader, but complies, lowering herself onto the front of the bed.
The elven leader picks up a chair by a dressing table and turned it towards her. She sits down casually, legs apart, one hand on her knee, the other on her belt.
“My betrothed.” Her finger fidgets on her belt. “My apologies for all the security. It has been a sensitive few days.”
Yelena senses nervousness, and wonders if that is the same ruthless warrior who terrorized her House just days earlier.
“I am sure. Have things gone well with the Five Great Houses?”
“Well enough. The rest bent the knee once they knew your father did. There is still opposition. But I imagine not for long.”
So no lands have been sacked into oblivion. They are both still alive. The princess does wonder if perhaps that fact has been in more peril than she assumed.
“You intent to keep me as your wife when this war is over?”
“The war is over."
She knows neither of them truly believe the war between elves and humans will ever be over.
“Yelena.” The elven leader looked at her. Her sharp blue eyes glittered with golden specks and mystery. “You are my wife. We are bound by the Old Magic. Through this life and into the next."
The use of her first name unnerves the princess.
“Is that what you will call me, 'Yelena'?” She asks sharply.
"Wife, then."
“If you call me 'Wife', I will call you 'Wife'.”
“And if I call you 'Princess'?”
“I will call you 'Lord'.”
She expects the elf to demand she call her Lord Bishop at all times, to make of show of her obedient subservience like what had been expected at their wedding. But instead, just the slightest hint of smile flirts in Kate’s cheeks.
“Will you call me 'Kate'?”
Surprise crosses Yelena’s face. “Do you prefer it?”
“We are wed. There is no need for titles between us, at least not in our own quarters. It would please me for you to say my name.”
“Kate.”
The elf’s eyes are kind when she looks at Yelena. But how can she be kind? The princess has heard the tales of the bloody deeds sung before many a grim feast-fire- she must not let herself be lured into a false sense of security.
Kate stands, stalking slowly into the princess’ space. She reaches out, touching her wife for the first time, running slim fingertips over the delicate angle of Yelena’s jaw.
Yelena doesn’t flinch, but she does shiver under the elf’s touch.
“There is magic in you. Not like mine. Human magic is just a speck compared to us. But it is intriguing.”
Kate’s lips quirk, and her hand comes up to rest, firm and purposeful, on the back of Yelena’s neck. She hums, leaning forward, breath feathering over the curve of the princess’ neck.
In the next moment, her hands are off and by her sides. The elven leader stares changes into something stoic before she turns, intending to leave.
Yelena is more confused.
“Are we not…” She calls out, but closes her mouth.
Kate stops.
“Are we not to consummate the marriage?”
“I did not have the opportunity to get you a wedding gift, please forgive me. What would you like?” Kate asked her something entirely different.
The elven leader is a strange one, Yelena concludes. This marriage pact was strategically picked for the sake of progeny and politics and power, would they not need to acquire an heir? She had learnt from young that is her duty, an expectation. And she was asking about a gift instead?
"A visit to my father."
"Nice try."
"A chess board, then."
"I will see to it." Kate walks to the door. At the last second, she whispers a 'good night', leaving Yelena once again, alone.