Chapter Text
I’ve never been under any great romantic illusions regarding marriage. Whatever the bards say, there would be no love at first scent for me, no star-crossed union of alpha and omega. It would be a bargain, plain and simple. My mate would be chosen for me for wealth or status or prowess, and I would have to learn to love them best I could. It was a mature and realistic view, I always thought, one that would protect me from the bitterness and heartache I saw in the eyes of my older sister whenever she accompanied her wife to court.
As it turned out, even those expectations were far too high. When it finally was time for me to be given away, it would not just be with no consideration for love and bond, but to someone utterly incapable of either, someone not even human.
I flinched when the door to the cabin opened. Tasco’s scent filled the stuffy space with sweat and salt and frustration. There was a rattling sound with every movement. Had he really put on his mail? I thought he had been joking about that. I scrambled to my feet, clasping my hands and lowering my head.
“We’ll arrive by noon. You better be ready.”
My brother’s voice was harsh and somewhat forced, as if he was trying to speak and grind his teeth at the same time. At first, he was only a silhouette against the sunlight, made broad and bulky by my mother’s wolf-skin royal cloak. He insisted on wearing it at all times despite the heat. As my eyes adjusted I could see the beads of sweat on his brow.
I was doing little better, of course. Not content with suffering the heat alone, he’d insisted I put on my scarf and veil in the morning already. Without even a breeze to help me cool off, I was drenched. My hair clung tight against my scalp, the linen of my dress stuck close to my skin.
Tasco stepped forward, looking me up and down. He brushed a soggy strand of hair from my eyes and scowled.
“Ulkos’ Fangs, girl, can’t you control yourself? I want to present the elves with a bride, not a stinking cow.”
I clenched my jaw, but didn’t say anything. Tasco had always had a temper, but it had reached new heights since he was denied his inheritance. The bruise on my arm still hurt from the last time I tried pushing back. That had been him holding back. I was lucky he didn’t want to risk damaging my face, he’d said.
He kept his eyes on my dress for a moment, on the verge of saying something, then thought better of it. Most likely he was going to ask me to change it, then realized it was the only fine enough garment we had managed to take with us during our flight.
“It will have to do,” he said, then like an afterthought added; “You can sit down.”
He dropped onto the bed, seating himself at the edge and wiping his brow. I lowered myself onto the sole chair in the cabin, careful to avoid chafing from the metal of my belt. We sat in silence for a moment. I crossed my legs to keep them still. Despite the misery of the last weeks, I could not help feeling a low, simmering anticipation, a subtle tingle along the hollow dread. I knew nothing good was awaiting me, but… this was Elfland, a place I only knew from stories. How could I not be a little curious, a little excited?
Tasco had been here in his youth, fighting as a mercenary for some elvish noble family. He’d come back with a new sort of hardness to him, and precious few stories to tell no matter how much I begged him. For the elves he felt nothing but disdain. Once, he nearly strangled a bard who sung of their beauty before him.
“There’s nothing beautiful about those bloodthirsty cowards,” he’d said to me afterwards, voice loud and slurred with drink. “Remember this, Abrexa; they have no hearts. Nothing is sacred to them. They will steal your mind, make you wade in blood, not even stop at...”
He’d left before finishing that sentence, stumbling out of the hall with tears in his eyes. That was the closest he had ever come to telling me what had happened to him there. The haunted look on his face had left a mark in my memory, but my sympathy had long since dried up. Whatever had affected him so, it was not enough to deter him from selling me to the creatures he so despised to win back his throne.
“This place, you’ve been there before?” I asked him. “It’s called Epimyra, right?”
He gave an affirmative grunt.
“I sent a message ahead with a merchant, to one of their chiefs. Hopefully they will be expecting us.”
He’d told me that each of their households was like a village unto itself, and that their heads met in a grand hall to govern. It was not too dissimilar to how things worked at home, except that what for us spanned our whole nation was concentrated in a single city. It was hard to wrap my head around the scale of that without having seen it myself.
“May I come up on deck? See the city as we approach?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“No. I’ll tell you when we’re there. You need to keep out of the sun, no one wants a bride with skin burnt like a thrall.”
There was indeed a welcoming party waiting at the docks. A young woman with an armed escort. She welcomed my brother with many words and offered to guide us to her mistress’ estate. She spoke Numantic with a heavy accent. I paid no attention. I couldn’t. The city was too overwhelming.
I walked as if in a daze, wide eyes unable to decide what to focus on. This was an alien world I had stepped into. Having spent days upon days upon days at sea cooped up in my cabin just made it seem all the more dreamlike. The air was so damp and heavy it felt like I was swimming. Tasco had told me often enough to not listen to the stories, that Elfland was no mystical otherworld but a very real place, filled with flesh-and-blood beings. Now that I was finally here in person, I still struggled to believe him.
The scentscape was utterly disorienting. I did not even have the words for most of it. The salty sea-breeze and cooking fish were the only familiar smells, along with those of Tasco and our retainers. It was like a thousand perfumes clashing. There was an oddly fungal smell from what appeared to be a storehouse. A woman was painting vases before her workshop, and the pigment smelled almost like the boiled crab-stew that had been so popular on the ship. A sweet, sap-like scent came from an animal I thought to be a local breed of sheep or goat until it rose on six fuzzy legs and scuttled off around a corner.
I had thought Dunmaris was a large settlement. I did not leave the keep often, but the assemblage of longhouses and round huts about our hillfort had always seemed grand and sprawling. Epimyra was something else altogether. My first impression was that it was downright claustrophobic, despite the wide streets. Flat-roofed buildings were arrayed in rows orderly as a phalanx, rising two, sometimes even three stories high into the sky. The brightly painted facades were wider than anyone could have any use for, each building a fortress. How large must a family be to need so much space?
The streets themselves were no less strange. Wide avenues paved in hexagonal stone patterns, straight as lances. My brother had brought back a gameboard from his time in Elfland, a grid of perfect jet and ivory squares. I had marvelled at the precision of it, at the craftsmanship on display. This was the same, but on the scale of a city.
Strangest of all were the people. So many, and they all looked alike. Not just with their bronze skin and deep black hair, but in their features as well, the set of their noses and shape of their eyes. Almost all had symbols of lines and dots painted or tattooed on their cheeks. Did they have to do that to tell each other apart? I could barely even tell whether they were men or women, alphas, betas, or omegas. I knew that distinction existed among them since my brother had mentioned some quirk of their language regarding it, but I had no idea how to spot it. Nearly all had soft and youthful faces, and none had beards. Many wore only short wrapped skirts or loincloths, yet their bodies were slender and undifferentiated. Occasionally there was a tall figure whose chest and muscles were shaped distinctly enough to tell. I was not even sure if those were elves or some other people, so different were they from the surrounding crowd.
Scent was no help at all. If my nose was to be believed, there were no alphas here at all. Back home, I could smell them a mile away. When a moot was held, I could tell exactly when the thanes and their retinues would arrive merely by the flush their scent caused to rise in my body. Here, there was no such feeling. Yes, clearly there was some distinction with the tall and short elves, but they all smelled strangely neutral, almost immature. My mind kept circling back to the tales of eternal youth I had always dismissed as pure fables. I was almost ready to accept that these were spirits or ghosts rather than beings of flesh and blood, were it not for one thing. Very rarely, through a latticed window or the closed curtains of a palanquin, came the sweet scent of an omega. It was not the same as mine or my sister’s - it was stronger and laced with a caustic undertone - but it was close enough to provide an anchor and keep me grounded.
This dream-trip through a place so foreign made me realize just how much I relied on my sense of smell. All my life, I've been able to tell a person's status, their connections and place in the world without even seeing them. That information was still present here, but none of it made any sense.
I must have been quite the sight, shuffling through the streets wrapped in scarf and veil, gawking at every new sight. I nearly tripped over the hem of my dress a few times. Finally Tasco had enough of me holding up the whole procession, and clamped a hand about my arm to pull me along.
The buildings changed the further into the city we went. The blocks closer to the harbour had been impressive enough, but now they were replaced by even larger compounds, surrounded with painted walls and sprawling gardens. Many were shaped like squat, stepped towers. There was a constant bustle, slight-framed elves coming and going, carrying all manner of tools or goods. How could anyone feed so many people in one place, I wondered. Did they not need to eat as much as we did?
By the time we arrived at our destination, I feared both of us would collapse from the heat. Our escort had brought parasols and cooled wine, but that could not compensate for the layers upon layers protecting my modesty, or for whatever foolishness had possessed Tasco to wear both the cloak and mail shirt. Maybe he thought it would be imposing. All it did was make him look like a fool.
Our guide paused before one of the compounds, exchanging words with the armed doorkeeper, then inviting us in with a swooping gesture. I looked up at the archway before me, and the estate behind it. My wonder at the strangeness of this place slowly faded, replaced by creeping dread. Tasco’s wine-fueled words echoed in my ears;
“Remember this, Abrexa; they have no hearts.”
We were ushered into a hall - a throneroom, really, as large as some longhouses I’ve seen. The air inside was shockingly cold. Well, not cold as such, but after the sweltering heat outside, just for a moment it felt like stepping into the waters of a mountain stream. At first I had thought someone was tugging at the hem of my dress, until I realized there was a light breeze. A breeze, inside the building, when the air outside was heavy and stagnant. It almost made me forget about my situation as I scanned the hallways to find the source.
I was quickly distracted from that search by something just as strange. There were almost no windows within the building. Despite this, it was well lit. Everything was bathed in warm, golden light, coming from long tubes affixed to the walls in regular intervals. They seemed to be glass - which was hard to believe in itself, given the cost that would involve - and contained some sort of glowing liquid.
The distraction did not last long. Once in the hall, our guide bade us to be seated by a low table. The benches all faced in the same direction, towards a raised alcove in the wall framed by elaborate geometric reliefs. A curtain of purple silk hid the interior, though it was translucent enough I could make out a number of silhouettes seated behind. The same sort of familiar-yet-not omega scent trailed from there, like spring flowers with a hint of vinegar.
Along with it came a new scent, one I instantly recognized. Strong and deep. The first elven alpha I could identify. I felt an involuntary tingle. What did they look like, I wondered? Were they as youth-faced and hairless as all the elves I'd seen so far?
Though the alcove had first grabbed my attention, the hall was anything but empty otherwise. Guards were dotted along the walls and entrances. All were tall and toned, long hair bound in bundles of ringlets falling down their backs. Again, the similarity between them struck me, like they were all siblings. They were unarmoured, dressed only in short asymmetrically cut skirts. Each bore a bronze-tipped and tasseled halberd. Their scent still threw me off, unlike that of the shorter, lithe sort of elf I assumed to be betas, yet lacking the intensity and allure of the one coming from behind the curtain.
In addition, there were nearly a dozen servants, dressed in short tunics of light cloth, bearing pitchers of drink and plates piled with fruit and sweet pastries. The marks upon their cheeks were almost identical, I noted, only differentiated by the number of dots.
Once our guide was finished with her welcome speech - I had barely been listening to her - I expected the servants to swarm about us and fill the table with their offerings. Instead, only one came forward, bearing a silver tray with a single glass vial and a small square of silk.
I watched her approach with interest. The servant walked past my brother without sparing him a glance and stopped right in front of me. She lowered her head and held out the tray. I stared up at the rose-coloured vial. What was I expected to do here? Why me? The guide stepped up, and gave me an indulgent smile.
"My lady, may we have your wrists?"
I didn't respond, didn't move. It was stupid, I know, but something inside me refused to make a single move unless this situation started to make sense. I looked at my brother, pleading for help. He rolled his eyes and gave a derisive snort.
"Go on, Abrexa, humour them," he said.
I nodded shakily, then extended my arms, palms facing upwards. The guide's smile widened.
"Thank you, my lady."
With care, she rolled up my sleeves and pushed the bracelets down my forearm to free my wrists. I was unprepared for how gentle her touch was, like a caress. If I didn't know better I'd have described the gesture as reverent. I suddenly became very conscious of my sweaty palms.
She took the vial and pulled out the stopper. The scent hit me so hard I almost flinched. It was strong, similar to the unseen omega's scent coming from behind the curtain. The guide let a few droplets fall onto the silk square, then dapped it along my wrists.
"Be welcome, my lady," she said, nearly whispering.
I kept my hands up as she retreated together with the servant, marvelling at the intensity of the perfume despite the small dose.
My arms started to tremble. I folded them in my laps to hide it. The air suddenly felt stuffy despite the breeze. I couldn't bring myself to pay attention to the servants now laying plate after plate before us. The damp cloth of my veil stuck to my face, making it hard to breathe.
Was... was that an insult? Was there something offensive about my scent that they felt the need to mask it, or did they simply want to show me they could take even that from me? They will steal your mind, my brother had said. Magna Mater shield me, I did not want to lose myself among these beings. Around me, Tasco's retinue started availing themselves of the feast, drinking deep as if nothing was wrong.
I had to pull myself together. I tugged at my veil to let in some air and breathed in deep. I felt eyes on me, of the guards, the servants, the guide. I tried to tell myself I was just imagining it, but I could see the stares. I couldn't even eat or drink something to take my mind off it - my brother would not allow me to lower the veil.
There was movement behind the curtain, and I nearly sighed in relief at the distraction. The silk shifted aside, and a woman emerged. A single glance was enough to see that this must be the chief of this household. She was tall and broad-shouldered, sharp-featured like a hawk. I could see the muscles shift beneath her scarred skin with every step. A skirt like those worn by the guards was wrapped about her waist, though it was much more ornately patterned and fringed with golden thread. Strings of gold and jade and coral were draped about her shoulders and arms, pearls were threaded through the luscious black hair. A long-handled bronze axe hung from her belt. Was this who I would be given to? It couldn't be, she looked much too old for that. Surely she was bonded already?
I knew what they said about elves, though. They felt no love, no passion, took dozens of mates for the sole purpose of reproduction. It was just stories, of course, but I did not relish the thought of that being my fate.
The thoughts soon faded as I found myself more and more enraptured with the woman before us. Her movements were like a panthers’. I had some trouble keeping my eyes off her bare chest. Her breasts were full enough that the lower of her pearl-string necklaces was practically draped over them. Her scent grew stronger about me, and I felt a flush rising in my cheeks and groin. It was a familiar helplessness, brought on by an alpha’s scent and made only more intense by the fierce beauty of her womanhood. For all my attempts at pragmatism in matters of bonds and matrimony, this was my one failing; That secretly I had always wished that when it came time for me to be broken in on the wedding night, it would be done by a woman.
I clenched my jaw and breathed in deep. The first few times this had happened, I'd been distraught and angry at myself. It was humiliating, to lose control in this way, fixate on a total stranger in wide-eyed desire regardless of the circumstances. By now, I had learned to accept it. I could be grateful I was not in heat at least. It would be better once I was bonded, I hoped.
The woman paused and looked at where Tasco was seated, then said something in the elven tongue. The words were short, with an odd sort of intonation that made it sound like she was stopping mid-syllable every now and then. She had a deep voice by nature, I think, but the language made it sound high and sharp. Our guide started to translate, but Tasco cut her off with a raised palm. He replied in elvish, though coming from him it sounded like a series of halting barks. Then, he rose and extended an arm. The elf watched impassively, and after a moment clasped it in a gesture of welcome.
The negotiations mostly went over my head, of course. My brother spoke and spoke, the elf only interjecting occasionally with a word or two. He pointed at me a few times, and had his retainers lay out a mail shirt and two steel swords on the ground. After a moment's thought, he added his own blade. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, the hilt gilded and studded with rubies, the leaf-shaped blade a finger longer than that of the other two. This was the only time the elf seemed genuinely interested. She leaned down and ran her fingers over the links of the mail, and picked up the sword and examined the blade, a slight smile coming over her face. Tasco had mentioned this to me, that the elves did not know how to work iron or temper it into steel. This was how he was planning on enticing them to help him retake his throne.
During that lull in conversation, a soft voice came from behind the curtain. Just a few words, but the tone made my hairs stand on end. I scanned the hall for clues as to what it had been. It was subtle, but something had come over almost all the elves assembled, like a wave. Our guide tensed. Even Tasco noticed it. He looked about a confused smile on his face. The chief breathed in deep, then gave a little nod.
It was over before I realized it was happening. The guards stepped forward, bronze flashed, blood sprayed. Where a second ago I was surrounded by eating and drinking and quietly joking retainers, I was now surrounded by bloodstained corpses. Before me, the elven chief was pulling my brother’s blade out of where she had lodged it in his skull.
This was not the first time in my life I had been confronted with death. I’d watched criminals whose actions were too foul to allow for blood money executed, seen a drunken warrior strangle another over a woman, been there when my younger sister fell from her mount and weeks later succumbed to an infected wound. None of it had prepared me for this. I did not scream, did not cry or beg, though it was not for want of trying. I simply froze, every muscle in my body locked tight. My breath came quicker with every second. I felt the breeze against my face, and I realized that as the massacre happened, I’d jumped to my feet and pulled down the veil without thinking.
The chief took a step forward and slowly extended a hand, like a shepherd with a frightened lamb. Blood speckled the bronze of her skin, the golden rings on her fingers. Dizziness came over me at the sight. I fell to my knees before her, spread my arms. The gesture was pure reflex; Please, I offer you this, take what you want, just let me live.
She paused, the stoic aspect of her face broken for the first time with… confusion? The guide beside her winced and said something in a scolding tone. The chief dropped the sword and took a step back.
“Please stay calm, my lady, you are in no danger,” the guide said. I could barely hear her over the thumping of my heart.
Behind them, there was movement in the alcove. The curtains parted in a rustle of silk. There was the glimmer of gold, the play of light on jade and sapphires. The scent of unknown flowers filled the air, its sweetness almost sickly. The two elves before me turned and made way, both giving a little bow to the figure that emerged.
She was a woman, I thought. Her scent was clearly that of an omega, but she was huge, taller even than many alphas I’d seen. She was heavily pregnant, stomach bulging so far it was impossible for it not to be the first thing about her I noticed. Walking in that state was clearly not easy, and she was supported by a servant as she made her way towards me. Calling her manner of dress opulent would be an understatement. She is their queen, I thought. She could be nothing else. Bright patterned silks and a whole treasury of precious stones and metals adorned her. Her feet were hidden beneath a long, layered skirt, belted about her waist. Above that, she wore nothing, chest barely hidden by flower-threaded braids falling over her shoulders. It was impossible to tell her age. Her face was soft and lineless, yet there was nothing youthful in her bearing. Despite being bare-headed and bare-chested, she carried herself with no shame or fear. There was a glint in her deep, dark eyes that made me hold my breath. I recognized it.
In a grove near Dunmaris, an old druid lived. His name was Cintu. He would come to the keep during holy days, or when called to cure an affliction or oversee a judgement. What set him apart from all other druids I’d seen was that he was an alpha. There was no proscription against it, but it was a celibate and reclusive life that left little room for passion or family. Few alphas ever even considered it, and those that tried usually gave up quickly or were found unsuitable by their mentors. That Cintu had not only achieved the rank, but also kept it far into old age was nearly unheard of. No one questioned how he did it, though. One look at his eyes was enough. Despite being half-hidden by heavy and creased lids, they were hard like steel and bright as a flame, the mind behind them never ceasing work for even a moment. This elven woman had the same sort of eyes.
She paused before me, looking down with the curiosity of a kitten who just caught a spider. She would have towered above me even if I were standing. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a low, drawn out sob. Her expression went soft. She pushed away the servant supporting her, and lowered herself onto her knees. I was trembling, I noticed, but could still not move my limbs. With great care, the elf took the fabric of the scarf wrapped about my head and pulled it down, freeing my hair. Her eyes lingered on the mass of bright red curls for a moment. I stared at her, feeling faint. I feared I was about to collapse from sheer shock and confusion. A pair of soft arms wrapped about me. She pulled me into a tight embrace, whispering gently in my ear. The flower-scent was overwhelming. Another wave of dizziness came over me, followed by a sudden rising nausea. I tried to utter some sort of warning, but the moment I opened my mouth I threw up all over the elven queen’s shoulder.