#also wasnt expecting the brown paper to be as fantastic as it is!!!!!

[idlemusingsofalex-blog]

Parties aren’t just for Elves

A first chapter of a Skyrim fanfiction, featuring my two most often used characters Ae’or and Vraelren.

Enjoy! 

Vræl'ren sighed deeply, cool red wine swirling on his tongue as he watched the party move around him. Clad in Thalmor robes minus the hood, he had a striking stature as one tall enough to overshadow even the tallest Nord. Hands bare, his gold skin was marred with numerous paper thin scars, all a shade lighter than their flat, pale gold background.

He glanced around the large hall, emotionless eyes roving the crowds of Mer and humans alike. His hands clenched against the crystal goblet in his grasp, suddenly regretting his lack of gloves as he stared into the swirling depths of the deep crimson drink. The tune merrily drifting over the tumultuous people was foreign to him, with the simple rhythms common in human songs, to the point where one was near indistinguishable from the other.

The swinging creak of a door opening then quickly shutting pulled him out of his trancelike state, eyes focussing on a small Breton woman who sidled to his side. A wry smile from him made her look up at the elf with happiness, a giddy look furthered by the wine and mead that flowed like water in this party. She was clad in a fine dress of Prussian blue, one that subtly clashed with her lighter brown hair, highlighted in fantastic gold and orange hues as the sunlight slashed through it. "You look wonderful tonight." He whispered, eyes trailing along her body as the wine dulled his senses to an almost carefree attitude, or, at least he thought it did. She grinned in response, her arm wrapping around his thin waist as he placed his drink down on the polished wood bar. A low, soft tune took over the room as the guests fell silent, all turning to the group of musicians on the far side of the hall. A burly Nord whistled again, and began to sing in soft tones. "I'll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning, And gladly ride the waves of life, If you will marry me..." His voice faded only a little as a deep thrumming of a strange instrument grew from soft to almost loud, reverberating in the room like a massive creature mid slumber. "No scorching sun, nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey, If you would promise me your heart..." A female voice piped up along his, soft lilting tones mixing in beautifully with his deep baritones. "And love me for eternity." The song became more jovial as the couple continued, several party members began to clap as couples took to dancing, an old dance from High Rock that was custom at weddings and births. Ae'or tugged on Vrael'ren's waist "Come on, we both know this one!" she laughed, one that made Vrael'ren smile like a fool. Movements strong and steady, they stood evenly distant, bowed once, and slowly moved toward each other, each step in time with the drum. They hardly noticed the stares of the surrounding onlookers, some in awe, others in confusion as the high elf and breton lass took to one of the oldest dances in time. Spinning faster, and with practised ease, they both grasped each others forearm with one hand, feet stepping in time as the fell together and broke apart, not noticing the other dancing couples moving out of the way to lead them to the centre. There they walked in a treaded circle, palms flat against each others and moving faster to the climax of the song, "To love and kiss and sweetly hold For the dancing and the dreaming! Through all life's sorrows And delights I'll keep your laugh inside me! I'll swim and sail the savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning, If you will marry me!" At this, the couples of the room sung together, including the onlookers, as the song reached its end, fading into silence and heavy breathing interspersed with laughter. He would have been happy, if it wasnt for the sour face catching his eye and grabbing his arm "Ælsonfeth" "Elenwen" "My solar, if you will" her voice like daggers, she gently pressed her nails into his arm, a warning that turning her down would be unwise. "Of course." He turned to Ae'or, stealing a kiss on her cheek "I'll be a few minutes, go, drink some water." he whispered as he stepped away, following the other High elf to a secluded building across the courtyard. "What in the Eight were you thinking?" she asked, her voice level yet threatening to screech at any moment "It is a party, First Emissary, dancing is to be expected." He retorted, eyes serious and emotionless as glass. "This /affair/" she emphasised, "has gone on far too long. You know the implications of that dance and if you're thinking of marrying her-" "I am" he cut her off, eyes flickering dangerously, "and unless you wish to be truly immersed in this "scandal" as you so call it, you would do well to remember that my personal life is none of your business, /Elenwen/." He growled, a faint, deep throated one that trailed behind his words like a poison snake, willing to bite. Elenwen paled slightly before blinking, "Very well, you understand I will write of this to your father? I highly doubt he would be pleased to hear that his only son not only left his first wife to die, but also wishes to marry a Breton girl whom he's never once met nor even heard of." Vræl'ren stiffened at her words, his noble stature accentuated by his black and gold clothes. "I believe he's heard of her. Word of a Dragonborn on Nirn once more would spread even to the Isles if I am not mistaken." He answered, face calm and steady. Elenwen flinched at the word, as though it caused her pain to even hear it, an incredulous look cast on her face like a deep shadow. "You jest. She can't possibly be Dragonborn. She is no Nord and certainly doesn't fit the part of a dragon slayer, there is no possible way she could have destroyed the World-Eater himself." "Destroyed and devoured his soul." He added, "it would be best if you did not meddle in others affairs, Elenwen, lest it turn face and bite you." At this, he turned to the door, opened slightly and allowing a gentle swirl of snow carried on a breeze to float inside. "Good evening to you, First Emissary." Elenwen clutched her quill with intensity, every vein on her slim hand thrown up in sharp relief by the flickering candlelight. Furiously, she began to scratch at the parchment underhand, the slick tip of the feathered quill cutting in arcing loops across the yellowed surface. 'Prime Archivist Gabrielus Ælsonfeth I bring news of your son... '