It wasn't long before they entered what was visibly a residential area, away from the bustle of the main streets. Cobble streets lined with beautiful, half-timbered cottages of orange, red, yellow and green. They were large yet cosy, with flower-filled window boxes and a distinctive frame of wooden beams crisscrossing over the facade.
Ella observed her surroundings wide-eyed–her sour mood slowly but surely fizzled out as she took in the vivid colours of the timbered houses and their whimsical charm. Towering crimson alders lined the streets, their scarlet leaves crunching under her boots as she stared at the multitude of brand new surroundings.
Nestled between the residential houses, a large park took up acres and acres of space. It was a glorious sight of colossal trees, heads of crimson, orange and gold. Ella could only gape as they walked deeper into the park, the sweet scent of soil, damp wood and tree sap permeating into her lungs, making her swell with delight.
The park was deeply wooded in some areas, with oaks, firs and predominantly alders. Between the groves of mossy trees, clear ponds of water popped up, home to frogs, dragonflies and zooming water sprites.
A sloping, messy lawn of vivid green opened up between the towering trees, littered with bluebells and mounds of autumn leaves. A group of small fae children bolted past them, tumbling into the piles in fits of giggles. As they walked further ahead into the coarse path of forest floor, more faeries came into view. Elves on picnics, small goblin children on wooden swings hanging from branches, gaggles of pixies tittering as they walked arm in arm, eating candied apples.
"This is Alder Park," Aedion said, as they reached what seemed to be the centre of the park. It was clear the name came from the multitude of trees around.
A lake sprawled across the middle, its water green-tinged and vibrant. Around the edge of the lake, a trio of musicians commanded the attention of a group of attentive spectators.
Ella stood rooted to the spot, listening intently as she clasped a hand to her chest. They had peculiar instruments; a golden harp–bearing many more strings than its human counterpart–and a strange flute, artfully coiled like a cat's tail. The sounds that came from their instruments were unlike anything Ella had ever heard, a new sound that called to her ears and curled around her heart.
The elven woman singing swayed gently, long blonde locks drifting in the wind as her sweet, melancholic voice accompanied the exquisite notes of music. Her honeyed tone crooned about a lover gone to war with such sorrow in her voice that it was as if she were reading a lovesick letter. The haunting melody tugged at Ella's heartstrings, blurring everything around her.
As the last notes drifted through the air, a gentle hand on her shoulder startled her out of her stupor, and Ella realized she'd been mesmerized, not even acknowledging that Aedion had left and come back. Turning, she met his amused expression as he handed her a large, doughy roll topped with glazing, wrapped in a napkin.
"Juniper makes the best sweets I've ever tasted," Aedion gestured towards a stand where a friendly Goblin was selling frosted pastries.
Aedion motioned for her to follow, leading her up a lichen-covered wooden bridge that crossed the lake. They stopped halfway and watched the ducks chortling and crowding around a grig child throwing seeds.
Ella bit into the pastry and was immediately met with an explosion of flavour–sweet, buttery and rich with cinnamon. Utterly perfect. "This is so good, I love cinnamon," she hummed in delight.
Aedion watched her with a guarded smile. "I know."
Ella inquisitively tilted her head at his comment. "How do you--" Her eyebrows rose infinitesimally, and a small, flustered smile burst free. Right, her perfume. Cinnamon. She didn't think he'd have noticed it. "I see," she said simply, her cheeks going slightly pink.
"I supposed you liked it," he said noncommittally, looking off into the pond and throwing a bit of his own bun at the demanding ducks below. She bit her treat and looked into the green water, saying nothing else.
"Why did the music sound so... different," she said after a moment, staring out towards the edge of the lake, where the elven musicians played on. She could make out the sweet, faint humming of their instruments.
"Right, don't quote me on this, but I'm quite sure that faerie music uses a 33-note scale. That may be why it sounds different." He held up his hands defensively, "Don't ask me to elaborate. I don't know where that rumour came from, but not all faeries are gifted at music. We appreciate art deeply, but some of us are utter pants at it. I for one can barely tell instruments apart."
Ella chuckled, shaking her head. She couldn't say much, she'd barely scraped by in her own piano lessons, as she had been more concerned with other activities. "It sounds so peculiar," she said quietly.
33-notes. No wonder it was so different. It tickled her mind in a way that was soothing yet exhilarating, making her hazy, melancholic and joyful all at once. She briefly wondered if this was why they said faerie music drove humans mad. Perhaps rather than making them insane, they simply couldn't properly understand it or even hear some of the pitches, and they became overwhelmed by the foreign sounds.
As she listened to the last notes of yet another beautiful, hypnotic melody, she smiled softly. "It's very beautiful."
Aedion looked at her for a moment, a shadow of a smile on his face. "Cinnamon pastries appear to be the key to getting you out of a sour mood. I'll have to remember that next time you throw a tantrum."
"With your track record, you might as well put the vendor on a payroll," she bit back. In reality, she was no longer as upset as she was before. Her anger had ebbed away, replaced with a feeling of almost ease.
She braced against the railing of the bridge, intent on sitting on the edge, even if one of her hands was occupied with her treat. She wobbled slightly and Aedion stuck out a hand quickly, grabbing onto her waist and stabilising her.
Aedion chuckled and leaned against the railing, Ella hummed contentedly and swung her legs back and forth against the bridge, biting into the sweet, doughy treat.
"You really do calm down once you've been fed."
Ella shrugged, not denying his claims. "How did you meet Val and Blaise?" she asked after a moment, wiping the corner of her mouth with the napkin.
Aedion side-glanced at her. "Couldn't stop thinking about that?"
She nodded, unashamed. "I don't like being left without an answer." Now that her irritation had burned out, it had been replaced by her ever-present curiosity.
"Nosy little thing." Aedion wiped off the remnants of crumbs from his hands before sticking them into his pockets. "We met at a party when we were young children."
"So, Blaise was right."
"He always is and he knows it. That one's an even worse of a clever clogs than you are."
Ella ignored his remark, instead intent on asking something that had been burning in her mind for a while now. "You met in Ardowen?" She was almost hesitant, sensing this wasn't a favourite subject of his.
She half expected him to make a mocking remark and steer the subject, but he only observed her impassively. The only sign of restlessness was the slight twitching of his mouth. She realized that she'd come to learn his little cues after observing him, perhaps with too much attention.
"Yes, we met there," he said after a moment. "In Ardowen, during a royal party."
Aedion kindled a burning curiosity in her. Ella wasn't going to delve too deep into this need to know about him, but she recognized that it was something that occupied her mind often. As if her questionable fixation needed an extra push, Aedion seemed inclined to indulge her. And Ella was greedy, never quite knowing when to stop, so she pressed her chances.
"What led to you being High Chancellor and Blaise and Val emissaries?" Why did you come to Gerrathea, was what she wanted to ask. How had a royal from another Kingdom ended up so far away?
Aedion surprised her by answering. Not a misleading statement to avoid her loaded question, a genuine answer.
He sighed and dug a hand through his tousled hair, staring off at the musicians now playing another song. "I was a prince in Ardowen," he said, answering what she'd been wondering, and guessing for weeks now.
"Ardowenian nobility and politics are brutally cutthroat. Damned if you're at the bottom of the barrel, damned if you're at the top. Everyone is constantly trying to climb the ladder by bowing and scraping, but they don't hesitate to stab you as soon as they have a chance. You know how it goes," he said with no small amount of distaste and a hint of bitterness. "As the second son of the King, I was no exception. There's no such thing as loyalty in Ardowen, even less so between brothers."
His voice was dagger-sharp, his knuckles braced around the railing bone-white–the displeasure was palpable. It made her chest clench sharply, almost painfully.
Impulsively, Ella inched closer and pressed her shoulder and elbow against his, nudging him. Aedion pushed back into her shoulder, pressing himself closer as well, seeming to accept and ease into her way of breaking past his dark mood, of showing comfort.
"What happened?" she asked softly, barely above a whisper.
"My brothers and I, we had a... disagreement." He didn't need to elaborate. Disagreement was most definitely an understatement.
"I left and found myself here, and Callan took me in. He's a good man, even if he's a surly hermit." Aedion smiled faintly and Ella mirrored his expression.
"So... High Chancellor," she prompted.
"Well, I finished top of the class in the war camps and I worked there for a while," he shrugged. "Then, I studied magical law and political economy in an academy, finished top of the class as well."
"Law," Ella repeated, failing to hold in a hysterical giggle. "Oh, that is rich. The world has a sense of humour after all."
Aedion elbowed her. "Yes, law. I'm exceptionally talented at arguing and winning, as you well know. And besides," he grinned impishly, "the only way to properly break the law, is to properly study it."
"Right," Ella snorted. "A well-researched crime checklist. Wouldn't want to miss any." She looked at him and rolled her hand expectantly. "And then?"
"After that, Callan trusted me with a position as advisor and eventually, I proved myself enough to become High Chancellor because I'm good at what I do." It was a statement, no arrogance in it.
"And modest to top it off," she mocked. Still, it was a fact Ella would outwardly admit without hesitation. He was one of the youngest courtiers in Callan's retinue, but he more than made up for it in sheer determination and tireless work. Aedion was excellent, simply put. His credentials only made up a small part of it.
"And Blaise and Val?"
"Blaise and Val are the closest thing I have," he said solemnly. "The only salvageable people in that snake hole. As soon as I came here, they deflected. Even if it cost them their nobility titles. There's no blood between us but..." Aedion trailed off with a distant look on his face, a conflicting mixture of fondness and bitterness. Ella understood that all too well.
"They're your family," she stated simply. "Blood ties aren't any more resistant than loyalty ties. You three found and chose each other and held on, despite everything. If that's not family, then what is?"
Aedion observed her with an open, gentle expression. "They are. They're my siblings," he murmured.
"As for how they came to work here..." A soft expression spread on his face. "Blaise is an academic, as I'm sure you've noticed. He has a near-encyclopedic knowledge of everything, he's like this magic bag of random, highly specific knowledge. He's just brilliant like that," Aedion smiled, wide and proud. "And gods, he's really just dedicated to his job. I mean, you've seen him. He tells you he's "behind", and really, he's already gotten his work for the next two weeks done, because he's an overachiever of the worst kind." He side-eyed her and shook his head, "Much like someone else I know," he muttered. Ella chuckled and elbowed him.
"And Val, Val is the best warrior I've seen, and I'm not saying that because I'm biased. I'll be the first to admit that she'd beaten me more times than I care to count." The admission was joyful and laced with no small amount of admiration.
"She finished the war camp a few years after I did, at the very top of her class. The only woman in the whole place, she beat them all. Honestly, she's just plain excellent, and it doesn't hurt that she's such a good emissary. Val just knows how to go about the military types, that's why she's the ambassador. Callan had a myriad of other nobles try to fill that spot before and it just didn't work, they just didn't have the right personality for it. It takes a special kind of treatment to deal with both nobles and military men, they can be difficult."
Ella couldn't help the soft smile that spread on her face as she listened to Aedion's proud rambling. It was raw and honest, the sheer amount of affection and overwhelming admiration he held for them. His family.
"Between you and me," Aedion said with a secretive, lopsided grin, "Callan has a soft spot and he decided to hire us." He paused. "Don't tell him I said that." Ella laughed, knowing that it was true. For all his grumpiness, it was clear Callan had affection for the young High Elves he trusted as his courtiers.
"But honestly, I say we do quite a good job if our reputation is anything to go by."
Some reputation they had. Gerrathea was known for its ruthless King and his brutal courtiers that kept everything running like a finely tuned clock. A lethal group that struck terror in everyone, but kept them in line. A firm hand was needed when dealing in politics. Yet...
"I hate knowing that everyone believes Gerrathea to be run by tyrants. I hate that they think Callan is evil." She paused, her expression twisting in anger. "And you may be bothersome sometimes, but you're aren't really bad. Not truly."
Aedion regarded her with a raised brow and Ella nudged his shoulder. "Oh, hush. Save whatever elaborate speech you have about your roguish reputation. I'm past believing that."
Aedion opened his mouth to interject but she halted him with a solemn expression. "There's no use, Eagan. I've already seen you in action. Unfortunately, I spend the better part of my day with you, so I know that deep, deep down, under that heavy pile of obnoxiousness and too dark clothing," Aedion scoffed in amusement and Ella continued, smiling lightly. "Deep down, you're a decent man. Really, even if you're horrid."
Despite how many times he annoyed her and made her want to tear her own hair out, Ella was not under the impression that he was heartless and callous. Not anymore. She'd once thought him to be cruel, but she'd seen past that facade many, many times.
"Horrid but decent, I'm touched, darling. Truly, words of kindness," he drawled, pressing a hand to his chest. "I never thought I'd see the day when anyone would defend me against those vile accusations. You surprise me every day, Wen." Though his words were spoken dryly, the swirl of emotion behind his lowered lids said otherwise.
Ella looked away, a slight flush on her cheeks. "Yes, well, don't get used to it," she grumbled, much to Aedion's amusement.
"Thank you," she murmured after a while.
"What for, dearest?"
She shrugged. "For today. For showing me around and for the cinnamon bun and you know," she gestured at the park, "Everything..."
Thank you for trusting me, she meant, because she recognized a token of trust when she saw one. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for allowing me to know you better, to see your better side. She couldn't manage those words, so she made do with that poor excuse for gratitude.
Aedion seemed to understand, because he nudged her shoulder, as she had earlier. Ella could have sworn that a smile tugged on his lips, genuine and warm. Those special ones
"Have you ever been to a used bookshop?" he said after a moment.
"Used bookshop?" she echoed, perking up, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Ah, there it is. The magic word, book," Aedion mused. "Yes, people donate or sell their old books, and you can go buy them. They're usually cheaper, but I really just like them because they feel," he waved a hand around, "different, I suppose."
"They feel more meaningful," Ella nodded. She wiggled on her spot, perched on the wooden rail. "The Blackwell library is really old. It's just got a ton of books that have been stored there for centuries. And a lot of them have little annotations on the margins, or dedications on the front page. I really liked that," she said, smiling faintly.
"I would sit there and read their words, and I got the sense that I was somewhat connected to whoever had been reading that book before me, that maybe they felt the same things I did when reading that particular story. It feels somewhat intimate and special... as if I got a glimpse into a past life."
Aedion hummed in agreement, mirroring her expression. "I supposed you would."
"You want to go?" Ella asked dubiously, despite the excitement the idea of going brought her. "Aren't you too busy?"
"For you?" Aedion shook his head and smiled, lopsided and playful. "I can make time." His expression and words brought a funny sort of warmth to her.
He held out a hand to help her down from her spot, and this time, she let him.
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Notes: Brineport is somewhat loosely based on Kinesale, Ireland but more importantly, Rothenburg ob der Tauber and Cochem in Germany. Rothenburg is beautiful. It's a town full of really colourful, medieval half-timbered houses. And Cochem has a lot of very similar buildings, as well as the stunning Cochem castle right on top of a hill overlooking the city. Really beautiful places, they look like German fairytale towns.