Alphwen, the Crown-Princess of the High Elves, had never been in place... amongst the Elves. They do not walk, they float, they do not talk, they sing, and the list went on and on. Her daughter, on the other hand, seemed well-adjusted among them, but then again, she had lived in the White Palace, in the Havens all throughout her childhood and was one with the Elves, because for all their peculiarities, the Elves loved children. Her daughter was the last daughter of the royal High Elven line in thousands of years, and that made her a total darling. She watched her daughter's handmaidens fawn over her as she donned the gown that she would wear to the Victor's Ceremony, a red one that covered her body up to her neck but without sleeves, cut to utter perfection - showing off what men of all races liked to see on a woman. It was a gown of Ithildain make, for Princess Melinn Vasa had made an Ithildain victory, not an Elven one.
"Come, girls, let me do it," she told the maids, and they gracefully walked away, their heads lowered while greeting the wife of their Crown Prince. Her daughter waved them goodbye and turned back to her as she held the ties that held the internal corset of the gown close. "You were brilliant today, my dear. No one has ever beaten Aran-magol in the Tournament."
Melinn sighed. "Is that why Grandmother hired him as the new Duke of Arms?" she asked her mother, taking a deep breath before the ties were tightened. She looked at the mirror and watched the curve of her breasts protrude further forwards from her garment and her waist getting smaller as her mother made a sharp tug on them. Elven women did not dress like Ithildain women. They preferred billowy gowns and bell-shaped sleeves that barely caressed the floor. Their fabrics were rich, but their richness could not be seen when the eye was laid on them but for a few seconds. The Ithildain use whatever fabrics they could find their hands on, but the drawing point of their garments was the workmanship. Stones could be embroidered onto the cloth, depicting flora or fauna. That night, Melinn wore a small silver dragon holding a pearl that spanned from the start of her neckline, just to the end of her torso. It was a sight that seemed relatively modest, but seemed to drive men wild, and that effect was the desired outcome.
Alphwen crooked her shoulders up and shrugged. "You know that I do not share your eye for politics back home," she chastised her daughter. Alphwen rebelled against the notion of taking her mother's footsteps in pursuing a political life, and instead worked as a diplomat. That was how she was sent to the Havens, as an Imperial Ambassador, and how she met an Elven engineer trying to make some new-fangled siege-weapon, and then married him after a few centuries of courtship. "But... I have some idea that the Havens might have a hand in it."
Melinn turned around sharply, facing her mother when she heard those words. "Mother, are you serious?" she asked her mother, her face more shocked than surprised. Those words implied that the Kings of the High Elves and the Dark-Elves would seek to marry their children together. Those words implied a political marriage in the works, a practice unknown to the Elves, less so to the Ithildain. "I am but too young to marry!"
Bursting into laughter, Alphwen rapped her daughter on her head. "Nonsense, there was no talk of marriage at all, although it would be a greatly desired outcome," she told Melinn. "I doubt that your father and uncle would suffer you leaving them for another man anytime soon." She could remember that her husband was a man of strict composure, brooding and stormy in his disposition before the birth of their daughter. The King, on the other hand, had the weight of the world on his shoulders - his people had only recovered from a great and terrible war with the Dark Lord (who seemed to have either lost a nose or had taken the form of a giant flaming eyeball), and there was utterly silence in the Havens. The King became less sombre when Melinn, as a precocious toddler, started asking him what the pieces on his prized map of the world were, those of the various armies, strongholds and ships. Happily he taught her everything he knew, and she eagerly listened to his tale of warfare, trade and politics.
"They would rather burn any man that comes close to me," Melinn retorted jokingly. Yet, for the past few centuries, Melinn had spent her days in the Ithildain Empire, pursuing a military career, and getting in touch with her Ithildain roots. But the King and the Crown-Prince had tolerated this slight separation, because Baran-Mir, the capital city of the Empire was only two day's ride from the Havens. She could go back any time she wanted. "But I am not of marriageable age yet."
"You turned 400 a few summers ago," Alphwen reminded her daughter, while mentally taking note of the list of lovers that her daughter had taken ever since coming of age in Baran-Mir. Living as a soldier, Alphwen was sure that the Elven noblewomen would have fainted when they realized that Melinn lived as a man would - being forever doused in drink and partners for bedsport, men and women alike. The Ithildain did not take virginity as a virtue anyways. They preferred virility and experience. Once their children came of age they were able to do whatever they wanted in the arts of love, so long as they did not rape or commit incest. "There is no need for you to get married yet, dear daughter, unless you so wish it."
Melinn shuddered at the thought. If she married an Elven gentleman, she would be forever tied to the bonds of marriage, and with the slightly patriarchal structure of Elven society, gave a face of ill-enjoyment. "I would run off to join the army in some human country if you even try to bring it up," she threatened as her mother clicked a bracelet onto her wrist.
"They, my child, pay pittance to their soldiers, who are usually convicts, peasants who cannot afford to pay their taxes and the like," Alphwen chuckled, grounding her daughter's hypothetical threats once again. "You are a professional warrior, who cost the Ithildain government 100 000 silver coins to train and educate over a span of 200 years."
"Thus, I am working for the government, am I not?" Melinn answered sweetly. With one last look, Alphwen considered her daughter ready and summoned the handmaiden to bring Melinn's shoes in. They were made of velvet and had thick heels that rose up to four inches in height, making the women who wore them appear much taller than they were, a particularly useful item when one was going to be in the company of Elves.
"You will work for those who need you," Alphwen answered, finally handing her daughter's jeweled dagger, an Ithildain symbol that she was a Sentinel - a royal serving in the army. "And now, you are needed in the Victor's ceremony."
Melinn nodded and took her mother's arm, silently thankful that the banquet hall was very near to her chambers. It was a plague to be a woman, no matter how free she was, for she would always be a slave to footwear that made them look so beautiful and elegant, but would pain her feet more than they served her aesthetically.
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