▪️G O L N A R▪️

"I can't believe him..." I muttered.

As I processed the news that I was to marry the Fae King Alaric, a torrent of emotions roiled within me. Shock, disbelief, and a twinge of fear mingled together, threatened to overwhelm my senses. My heart pounded in my chest, echoing the weight of my uncertain future.

I could feel numerous Fae eyes on me as I left the courtyard. Their gaze, filled with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, seemed to sear into my skin. It was as if they already knew what was to come, while I stood on the precipice of an unknown destiny.

Thyra, one of Alaric's trusted advisors, walked beside me in solemn silence. Her ethereal presence was both comforting and unsettling. I stole a glance at her face, surprised at the burn scars that were etched into her skin. Some traced a path along her cheek, like delicate rivers forged by a tumultuous firestorm.

As my gaze shifted, I noticed that the burns did not confine themselves to her face alone. They continued down her neck, disappearing underneath the collar of her clothing. Her hands, weathered and strong, bore their own share of scars.

There was a grace in the way she carried herself, a quiet confidence that belied the marks of struggle. Her scars, far from diminishing her beauty, added a depth and character that made her presence even more striking.

Unfortunately, my thoughts pulled me away from my silent observation as my mind began to whirl again with the prospect of becoming Alaric's bride.

At my heavy sigh, Thyra spoke, "You seem troubled, My Lady."

Choking on a bitter laugh, I responded, "One could say that..."

Her gaze lingered on me, intense and probing, but she did not say anything. Her dark eyes seemed to delve deep into my soul, as if searching for the unspoken fears and doubts that plagued me.

In the past, I would have remained silent, but remembering how Mahala and Izara told me to give others a chance, I figured that I would place some trust in Thyra. Especially as it seemed like Alaric trusted her greatly.

"I must confess, this is all too much to take in. I mean, having to marry Alaric was the last thing that I would have expected," I admitted.

Thyra's gaze softened, and she nodded sympathetically, "I understand, but please know that King Alaric is a fair and just ruler. He will treat you with the utmost respect and kindness."

I appreciated her reassurance, but the weight of my impending marriage still pressed heavily upon me as I replied, "Well, I don't know him well enough to judge. He's still a stranger to me, a former rival even."

"Fair enough, My Lady. Trust takes time to build, especially in matters as weighty as these."

"Please, call me Golnar..."

Thyra nodded and we fell into a comfortable silence and continued along the path as we walked through the large castle. The tension in the air was palpable as Thyra and I manoeuvred our way through the opulent halls of the.

I could not help but notice the disdainful glares of the Fae handmaidens who watched our progress. Their delicate features twisted with scorn; their gazes fixed on me. It was a familiar feeling; one I had experienced many times before among the orcs. These Fae were judging me, I was certain, because of my orcish blood.

I stole a sidelong glance at Thyra, whose graceful demeanour seemed impervious to the hostile stares. There was something else about her that drew their attention, something I could not quite put my finger on.

"Why do they look at you like that?" I asked, my voice hushed, though the question weighed heavily on my mind.

Thyra's gaze never wavered from the path ahead, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "I have burn scars, and in a realm that prizes unblemished beauty, my choice not to use magic to conceal them renders me less desirable in their eyes."

Her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the shallowness that often permeated the Fae. Here, where appearances held such weight, Thyra's scars were seen as a tarnish on her once flawless form. It was a perspective that spoke volumes about the values of this world, where the surface held more significance than the depth of one's character.

To be honest, her admission struck a chord within me and I found myself feeling a sort of kinship with Thyra. We were both outsiders in our own way.

"I see a different kind of beauty in you, Thyra," I said softly, my voice filled with a newfound admiration. "Your scars are a testament to your strength and your unwillingness to conform to their shallow standards. You are a rare gem in a world that often prizes the surface over substance."

A flicker of gratitude and understanding passed through her eyes, and for a moment, I glimpsed a vulnerability that I was sure she rarely showed.

The contrast between the Fae realm and my upbringing among the orcs could not have been starker. The disdainful looks from the Fae maids were a blunt reminder of how differently scars were perceived in these two worlds.

"Back among the orcs, scars were seen as desirable. They were a mark of strength, proof of battles fought and won."

"Things are different here, among the Fae, there is a reverence for unblemished beauty," she replied. "Scars are often seen as a reminder of vulnerability, a sign of past wounds that some would rather forget."

I could not help but think about the fierce orc warriors and how their bodies were adorned with scars that told stories of their courage and tenacity. It was a badge of honour, a symbol of the trials they had faced. Here, in this realm of ethereal perfection, such marks were met with disdain.

"It's strange..." I noted. "How something that signifies strength for one can be perceived so differently by another."

Thyra offered a sympathetic smile as she responded, "Indeed, our perspectives are shaped by the worlds we come from. It's a reminder that there is beauty in diversity, even in the way we perceive strength and resilience."

Her words resonated with me, a reminder that our differences were not weaknesses, but rather unique strengths that could be celebrated.

As we continued through the winding corridors, a sense of displacement settled within me. It was a familiar ache, one that had echoed through my life among the orcs. There, I was too human to truly belong, and here, I knew that I would be too orcish to fit in with the Fae. The feeling of being caught between worlds was a burden I had carried for as long as I could remember.

"I suppose we are both outsiders in our own way," I mused aloud, my voice carrying a mixture of resignation and determination.

Thyra nodded, her eyes holding a depth of understanding that spoke volumes, "Yes, but let us not forget, it is our differences that give us strength."

Upon reaching the threshold of my new chamber, my breath caught in my throat. The door, adorned with intricate engravings and wreathed in ivy, seemed to guard mysteries beyond my comprehension. I turned to Thyra, gratitude mingling with trepidation.

"Thank you, for guiding me here."

She smiled gently, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the room as she replied, "You are very welcome. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

"Will Alaric be alright?" I found myself asking.

"I won't lie to you; the King will face backlash for not finishing the war."

"I was afraid of that..."

"Listen, Golnar," Thyra began, her voice gentle but tinged with a solemnity that made me pay close attention. "I need you to understand something crucial. In the eyes of many Fae, as you have already seen, you will not be welcomed here. But know that fated mates are held as something sacred among my people and with you being the mate of our King, many won't have a choice but to accept you. Show them the strength and wisdom that reside within you. Alaric clearly sees it, and I believe others can too, given the chance."

I nodded, taking in her words. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I was not about to let it define me. I had faced adversity among the orcs, and I would do the same here. This was my chance to bridge the gap, to be a testament to unity in a world that often seemed fractured.

With determination settling in my chest, I looked at Thyra. "Thank you, I won't let this hold me back. I'll find my place, one way or another."

Her eyes softened, "That's the spirit. Remember, you're more than your bloodline. From what I've observed so far in our brief interaction, you are kind, strong, capable, and you have a heart full of courage. Don't ever forget that."

As the weight of Thyra's words settled in, a new layer of complexity unfurled before me. Alaric's decision not to finish the war would undoubtedly have consequences that would not spare him from backlash. The Fae, proud and ancient, were likely to question his choice, to challenge his authority. The very act that had saved countless lives now threatened to cast a shadow over his rule.

With a sigh, I turned to finally look over my new chamber properly and my breath hitched in wonder. Sunlight streamed through the arched windows, painting the polished wood floor with a golden hue. Tapestries adorned the walls, each one a vibrant displays of colours and patterns, depicting the untamed beauty of nature.

A grand mirror, its frame intricately carved with vines and blossoms, hung on one wall, reflecting back my image. Beside it, a vanity with crystal bottles and brushes promised a space of transformation, where beauty was carefully cultivated.

The canopy bed in one corner commanded attention, its drapes cascading like a waterfall of silk and lace. The linens looked inviting, a sanctuary for rest and contemplation. Nearby, a reading nook beckoned beneath another window, a haven of cushions and blankets, inviting hours of quiet introspection.

A small table, graced with a vase of iridescent petals, stood near the window, catching the light in a mesmerizing display. The room was a symphony of natural elements and artful craftsmanship, a harmonious blend of the ethereal beauty of the Fae realm and the grounded strength of my orcish heritage.

As I took it all in, a swell of gratitude washed over me. This room, with its meticulous attention to detail and comfort, felt like a gift—a space where I could find solace and gather my thoughts amidst the uncertainties of this new world. It was a reflection of the care and consideration that had gone into preparing for my arrival, a gesture that did not go unnoticed.

Turning to Thyra, a soft smile graced my lips, "Thank you, Thyra. This room is more than I could have ever imagined. It feels like a sanctuary, a piece of home in this new world."

"I'm glad you found it to your liking, Golnar. Even though it was short notice, King Alaric wanted to ensure you felt comfortable and welcomed. I will let him know how pleased you are, he will be very happy."

As I continued to explore my new surroundings, my eyes fell upon a delicate vase filled with iridescent petals, a subtle reminder of the beauty that permeated this world. The petals seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, casting prismatic reflections across the room. Each bloom was a demonstration of the exquisite craftsmanship and the profound connection the fae had with nature.

With a sudden realisation, I hastily turned to Thyra and said, "I did not see you on the battlefield," I ventured, my tone gentle yet curious.

Thyra's eyes momentarily flickered, a shadow passing over her features as she replied, "I stayed to help the King's brother, Cedric. Some strong Fae had to stay back. It wouldn't have been wise to send all our best warriors into battle."

I caught the momentary shift in Thyra's gaze, a subtle change dancing across her features. Her revelation about staying behind to aid King Alaric's brother surprised me.

"Cedric? I had no idea Alaric had a younger brother," I admitted. "What's he like?"

Her face held a hint of contemplation as she considered her words, "Actually, Cedric is the elder brother," she began gently. "But it was King Alaric who was chosen to rule. Their strengths lie in different domains. Cedric is more direct, shall we say. He's a formidable warrior, known for his fierce determination and boldness."

I nodded, absorbing the information.

"However," Thyra continued, "he also tends to be more, how to say, assertive in his approach. Some might say he can be a bit harsh at times, especially when it comes to matters of leadership."

I furrowed my brow, sensing the underlying subtext in Thyra's words. It seemed she was delicately alluding to Cedric's reputation for being more tempered in his methods, particularly in comparison to his younger brother.

"In contrast," she added, "King Alaric possesses a different kind of strength. He is wise and measured, with a gift for diplomacy. He seeks to find resolutions through words before resorting to conflict. It's his balanced approach that has garnered him the respect and trust of many in our realm."

I nodded, appreciating Thyra's diplomatic explanation.

It was clear that while Cedric and Alaric were brothers, their approaches to leadership were markedly different. This insight offered a deeper understanding of the complexities within the Fae court and the roles that each brother played in shaping the destiny of their realm.

With a final reassuring glance, Thyra left me standing in the middle of my chamber, the weight of my new reality settling upon me. The door closed behind me, sealing my fate within the Fae realm.

"Anu's beard..." I sighed

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A/N: 👀 ...