Nessalir the Red

This, Iarius considered, was turning out to be a wonderful night. He really would have to thank Nessalir for bringing him along once she got back from the Hunt.

He lay in the garden, naked back atop grass softer than any he had ever encountered in the world of Men. His eyes were closed, and he relaxed, enjoying the twin scents of flowers and musk as they intermingled in the air around him.

A light breeze brought with it a light chill, yet even that was not enough to break the serenity of this moment.

Lady Sahar ly'Gwinwyd was pressed up against his side. Though she was taller than he, the way she curled up against him and sighed in contentment made him feel like the biggest man around. Iarius was scholar, yet in the presence of this Elven beauty, he felt every bit the mighty warrior.

"You are well-studied," said Sahar, her voice soft and breathy. "The women of Remura have been lucky."

Iarius laughed. "Flattery has already won you your prize, my Lady. There is no need for more."

Sahar adjusted herself and trailed a long finger across his chest, chuckling. "Even so. Know that I am not disappointed."

"Nor am I," replied Iarius. "I admit, I am not as studied in this matter as you might think. Yet I can say with certainty that never have I enjoyed the company of a woman so beautiful nor so… skilled."

"I am well-practiced," said Sahar. "When you spend all your life is confined to palaces and parties, there is little else to while away the hours."

At that, Iarius opened his eyes and sat up. Sahar, gazed up at him with a soft smile upon her lips. "Surely you have books?"

"Of course," she said. "A scholar would say that, would he not? Yes, I have books. But I have read them all--or at least all the ones I care to. I have a garden as well, grander than even the Queen's, if I may be so bold; the envy of all the Houses. So yes, perhaps I exaggerate, but my brother has ever kept me confined, and I have learned to take what companionship I may."

She sat up as well, sighing. "I apologize," she said. "This was intended to be nothing more than a bit of fun. I should not speak to you of my frustrations."

"I don't mind," said Iarius. "I enjoy hearing you talk. And besides, through your words I can learn a bit more of your people."

"Scholars!" Sahar laughed, shaking her head. "Your kind stuff their heads full of knowledge, until you forget how to use any of it. I suppose, in that respect, I am lucky I caught you while you are still young."

She stood, and Iarius could not help but admire her form in the moonlight. Her beauty truly was unlike any other he had ever beheld.

"Learn what you will about my people," said Sahar. "Though I fear that, the more you learn, the more disappointed you may become. We are as petty and given to folly as your kind, I think. Our foibles simply take longer to unveil themselves, and our flaws cause wounds which last for centuries more. We were born from the same blood, after all."

Iarius frowned at that. "The same blood?"

"Of course, your people would have forgotten," said Sahar. "Elves. Humans. Dwarves. We were all born from the blood of Organon, the Fallen Star, when the world was one and that world was young. The Dwarves emerged when Organon's blood mingled with stone. My kind, when it mingled with shadow. And when yours, when it mingled with clay."

"I have never heard this before," said Iarius. "In Remura, it is said that Humanity was born from sea foam, animated by starlight."

"Again, it is not surprising that your kind would have forgotten. You are a short-lived people. You have shaped yourselves into the forms most convenient to you, and likewise you shape your world to suit your needs. You are clay, and your world is clay, and even its memory must take new shapes under your hands. Yet my people are shadows, reflections, cast from your world, and the past echoes always throughout Ailefgar, through thought and dream."

"How old are you?"

"My kind, or myself?"

Iarius looked at her, and Sahar looked back at him. She laughed.

"I am young by an Elf's reckoning," she told him. "But I was born when Remura was still but a single city, dreaming of conquest."

"The empire began three hundred years ago," said Iarius. "And the city…"

"I have lived for half a millenium," said Sahar. "And, should no violence find me, I will live for a millenium more."

Iarius was quiet.

As he contemplated, Sahar began gathering her clothes. "I should think our absence will not go unnoticed for much longer," she said. "Let us return to the party. The Hunt should be over soon enough, and we should be present when the champions return with the Beast's head."

"Thank you," said Iarius.

Sahar paused, her gown now partially covering herself. "For what?"

"Knowledge, experience, memory," Iarius replied. "Though our paths may never cross again, I shall cherish this always."

She smiled. "One day, stars willing, I should think you might make someone a happy wife." Sahar continued dressing herself, Iarius watching her all the while, and she left without another word.

He sat, naked, in the garden for a few more moments, before finally he stood and stretched. Iarius donned his clothes, and made his way back through the halls of the Queen's Palace before at last returning to the banquet hall.

Sahar's eyes met him from across the room as he entered, and the two shared a secret smile. He then saw Queen Eldorith watching him with a smirk on her face, and she leaned over and whispered something in the ear of her guard, Siuchrat, who laughed.

As his cheeks warmed, Iarius looked away, and caught sight of Prince Vedyr ly'Gwinwyd watching him as well, his mouth curved into a frown. Iarius did his best to ignore the master of the House of Vines, whose sister he had just spent an hour with.

He made his way through the party, suddenly wishing, quite fervently, that Nessalir would slay that Beast soon and end the Hunt.