Darian
The forest loomed as a vast cathedral of ancient trees, their towering limbs entwined like the very sinews of Valmora itself. After two days' relentless ride, the scent of pine and damp earth was balm to my wearied senses, a stark contrast to the polished stone and perfumed airs of Selandra's court.
My horse's hooves beat steadily along the familiar path, flanked by silent sentinels — warriors clad in leather and fur, faces painted with the dark pigments of our tribe. They greeted me with nods, eyes bright with unspoken respect, as we approached the heart of the kingdom.
The gates of the stronghold swung open wide before us, banners bearing the black stag upon silver rippling in the breeze. A chorus of voices rose in welcome — a mix of fierce cheers and solemn chants that echoed through the valley. This was my home, my blood, my people.
Dismounting, I shed my travel cloak and felt the steady weight of the crown's mantle settle again, heavy but familiar. The scar across my chest prickled beneath the cool air, a reminder of battles fought and the price of leadership.
As I strode through the courtyard, faces turned to greet me — elders, warriors, even children whose wide eyes held both awe and pride. The air thrummed with the raw energy of a kingdom alive and unyielding.
In the great hall, torches cast flickering shadows on stone walls carved with the stories of our ancestors. I stood before the assembled council, their expressions grave but loyal, and spoke words honed through years of command.
"Valmora endures, not through the blade alone, but through the strength of our unity," I declared. "Let no whisper from distant courts unsettle the roots of our land. We are one — fierce, unbroken, and bound by the forest's oath."
The hall erupted in approving cries, the raw power of my people a tangible force that surged through my veins. Yet beneath the roaring fire of loyalty, a flicker of doubt remained — the delicate alliance forged in Selandra, the woman caught between two worlds, and the path our future now demanded.
For all the wildness of Valmora, the true test was yet to come.
The echoes of the council's cheers still reverberated through the stone halls when I stepped onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The gathered crowd, fierce and loyal, awaited word from their king. Their faces were etched with anticipation — not just for the strength of their leader, but for the promise of what was to come.
I raised my hand, commanding silence with the gravity of one who bears a crown not by choice but by blood.
"People of Valmora," I began, my voice steady and clear across the hushed assembly, "after long days' journey from distant Selandra, I return not alone." I let my words hang, savoring the flicker of curiosity and whispered speculation that rippled through the crowd.
"I have found a queen — a woman of spirit, wisdom, and strength — who will join me in the governance and protection of our land."
Murmurs rose, a mix of surprise and cautious hope. "When the time is right," I continued, "she shall be presented before you all, that you may know her as I do."
Below, the drums beat a steady cadence, echoing the pulse of the forest itself, as I turned away and summoned my steward. "Send the carriage at once," I commanded. "Lady Elowen Ashbourne is to be brought to Valmora without delay."
As the first rays of twilight painted the sky in amber and violet, I felt the weight of the future settle deeper upon my shoulders. The queen I had claimed was no mere token of alliance — she was a force yet unknown, and the fate of my kingdom would soon entwine with hers in ways neither of us could foresee.
The halls of the stronghold echoed with purposeful movement, though to the untrained eye, the grand chambers seemed as they always had — cold stone, flickering torchlight, and the steady pulse of ancient history woven into every carved pillar. But beneath the surface, a subtle transformation was underway. I had summoned the finest artisans, seamstresses, and servants, each given precise orders to prepare the palace for the arrival of a queen not yet known to these lands.
My fingers traced the worn wood of the great dining table as I passed, feeling the scars of countless councils held and feasts shared. Soon, this hall would witness new alliances forged over silver goblets and whispered promises. I pictured Elowen seated here, poised and unyielding, a sapphire beacon amid the rough-hewn grandeur of Valmora.
In the private chambers, the scent of cedarwood mingled with fresh herbs—sage, rosemary, and lavender—burned carefully to cleanse the space of old shadows and welcome new beginnings. I paced slowly, my heavy boots muffled on the thick woven rugs that had been rolled out from storerooms long unused for such lavish display. The tapestries, depicting our ancestors' storied battles and fierce victories, hung with renewed pride, their colors brightened by recent restoration.
The bedchamber was the heart of the preparations. I had insisted on linens imported from the distant eastern kingdoms, soft enough to soothe the most restless nights. The sheets were embroidered with the sigil of the black stag, stitched meticulously in silver thread. Cushions and drapes of deep indigo complemented the muted stone walls, while a carved oak canopy framed the bed, entwined with garlands of fresh forest blooms — wild roses, heather, and thornberry, their subtle fragrance threading the cool air.
Servants bustled quietly, arranging delicate porcelain vessels filled with fresh water and oils for her bath. I had heard tell that Lady Elowen valued such rituals, small acts of grace amid the rigors of court life. The copper tub gleamed under the flickering torchlight, polished to mirror the shadows dancing along the walls.
Elsewhere, in the great hall, banners bearing the black stag were folded and refolded until each crease lay perfect, ready to adorn the walls when the time came for her formal presentation. I had instructed the royal smiths to fashion a new circlet, a symbol both of my authority and the promise I intended to keep — that this union would be more than politics.
Despite the flurry of activity, a quiet tension gripped me. I was a warrior king, forged in battle and tempered by wilderness, yet this was a different sort of challenge. I was tasked not only with leading my people but with embracing a woman whose world was as foreign to mine as the distant stars. Would she bend to this savage land? Or would the savage king himself need to learn how to yield?
My gaze drifted toward the window overlooking the forest. The moon hung low, casting silver shards through the branches, illuminating the deep greens and shadows of Valmora's heart. This kingdom was a living thing — wild, untamed, relentless. It demanded strength, loyalty, and cunning. It demanded a queen who could withstand its trials.
I tightened my jaw and ran a hand through my dark hair, the weight of the scar across my chest prickling with an almost physical reminder of the sacrifices made to secure this realm. Elowen was a mystery wrapped in silk and defiance. I had glimpsed that in her eyes at the ball — a fire that would not easily be quenched.
Outside, the carriage was still miles away, winding through the dense forest with its precious cargo. Each moment of waiting stretched taut like a bowstring, and yet I refused to let impatience show. A king must always appear steady, unshakable.
The steward approached quietly, his voice low. "Everything is prepared, Your Majesty. The chambers are ready, the halls set for the announcement."
I nodded, steeling myself. "Good. See to it that the servants maintain silence — she must feel welcome, not overwhelmed. And ensure the guards are discreet but vigilant."
"As you command."
I walked through the corridors once more, eyes catching the flicker of candlelight on polished stone, the gleam of weapons carefully displayed along the walls, the quiet order beneath apparent chaos. In this place, every detail mattered, and I was determined that no flaw would mar her first steps into Valmora.
A distant howl broke the silence — the call of a lone wolf, primal and haunting — and I allowed myself a moment's reflection. This was my home. My kingdom. And soon, Lady Elowen Ashbourne would be part of it.
Whether she embraced the wild or fought against it, our fates were now entwined.