Feather Light

Chapter Three

"What is the meaning of this?!" Sarven said as he stood from his seat.

"You can't just marry Feyrith off to some Orc! He is crown Ignacio! He deserves to be treated as such! It is tradition that he gets to-"

"Enough!" Feyrith yelled as he too stood. He knew his brother meant well, but having to be reminded of all he would lose was not something he needed right now. He needed to be calm. The enclave needed this treaty.

"Haryk, I know you mean well, but you need to stop. This betrothal is happening."

"Why are you so calm? Aren't you angry?" Feyrith chuckled. "Of course I'm angry. I'm pissed that father so carelessly threw my future in the hands of an Orc. But what's done, is done. The Disademos need this treaty, our enclave especially." Feyrith's eyes pleaded with Haryk as he spoke.

Haryk had always been a fiery spirit. He struggled to hold his tongue when he felt something was unjust. As right as he was to be upset, Feyrith knew he couldn't help but agree. Haryk melted under Feyrith's gaze.

"Besides, my betrothed is the Orc Chief's youngest. He is much less violent that his elder brother. At least that is a small comfort."

Haryk shook his head. "I don't know how you can be so calm. If I were in your place, I would never be so collected." With that, Haryk finally allowed Selanar to pull him away, the door shutting behind them.

Sarven and Feyrith returned to their seats. "Now where were we, ah yes the betrothal." Sarven reached for his satchel next to him and pulled out a few pieces of parchment. He put on his reading glasses and cleared his throat.

"Preparations for the ceremony will begin as soon as the precession arrives, which will be in the morning. Have your servant begin preparing your quarters and have him and the mages construct a temporary room next to yours for the Orc." Feyrith winced a little at the distaste in his father's tone, but said nothing.

"Right away father," Sarven grunted and waved Feyrith away. Feyrith wasted no time returning to his room. He smiled and waved at the few servants he passed, but the second his door closed behind him, he could feel his control begin to slip.

He quickly opened the door and found Aymar standing just outside. "I am to be married soon, please begin preparations to my room and have the mages build a temporary room next to mine for my betrothed. Make sure it is big enough for the Orc Chief's youngest son," Aymar nodded and scurried away. Feyrith closed the door and rushed to his bed, burying his face into one of his pillows to muffle his wails of despair.

The soft glow of enchanted orbs cast a gentle light, revealing the vulnerability etched into his features. His onyx hair, normally a cascade of strength, now framed a face marked by the silent struggle of his thoughts.

The weight of impending responsibility pressed upon Feyrith's chest, and the tears that welled in his vibrant green eyes reflected the turmoil of his conflicted soul. The room, adorned with memories of a simpler time, bore witness to the cascade of emotions that threatened to drown him.

The air, usually fragrant with the enchanting essence of the Lymsia Woods, now carried the scent of sorrow. Feyrith's breaths came in uneven waves, each exhale a release of the stifled pain within. He felt the cool touch of the breeze filter through the curtain against his skin, a reminder of the beauty that surrounded him yet seemed distant in the face of the life-altering decision imposed upon him.

As Feyrith stared at the ceiling above, his mind replayed the unfairness of the situation. The treaty, intended to bring peace, felt like chains binding him to a destiny he had not chosen. The thought of being wedded to an orc, a stranger from a foreign culture, for the sake of political expediency seemed an unjust burden to bear.