Chapter 40
-[ 90 AC]
The great wedding feast started right after Aerion and Viserra were married. The huge hall, lit by glowing plants and twisting lights, was full of loud noise and happy laughter. Silvanor musicians played soft, beautiful songs that floated in the air, making everyone feel calm. But soon, Westerosi bards started playing their own louder, faster tunes, making people want to clap and stomp their feet. Tables stretched far into the distance, covered with food that seemed to sparkle. Drinks in crystal cups glowed. Everyone was celebrating, trying new foods and talking loudly.
Elaron's Point of View:
I watched the human guests. Their laughter was loud, filling the hall. Their movements were quick and sometimes a bit clumsy next to our own people. Our normal elf kin also celebrated, but their sounds were more like the soft rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. The humans, though, clapped their hands hard and drank deeply from their heavy cups. They cheered loudly for the bards.
"A truly grand feast, Prince Elaron," a soft voice said beside me. It was Maester Yandel, a quiet man who had traveled with King Jaehaerys. He held a small scroll, always ready to write.
"Indeed, Maester," I replied, my voice calm. My deep amethyst eyes took in the busy hall. I was eighty-seven years old, but to the maester, I knew I looked like a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties. All of us, the High Elves of the royal family, had that ageless look. "It is a joining of two worlds, not just two hearts. A blending of fire and light."
He nodded slowly, stroking his long, grey beard. "Your people's ways... they are profound, Prince. We have seen your libraries. The knowledge contained within them is beyond anything in our Citadel. It speaks of a magic we thought long dead."
I felt a quiet pride warm my chest. My work with the ancient texts, especially the old Valyrian ones, was important to me. I had spent many decades reading and understanding them. I saw some of my normal elf kinsmen, with their browner hair and less glowing eyes than ours, sharing jokes and drinks with the Westerosi knights. It was good to see them find common ground. Their strength lay in their large numbers and their sturdy spirit. They were curious about the humans, just as the humans were curious about them. The Great Apes, thankfully, were not in the feasting hall, but their immense presence still lingered in the minds of the Westerosi, a symbol of our raw power.
The next day, the celebrations kept going. The Westerosi wanted to hold what they called 'tourneys'. These were games of strength and fighting, often with steel and horses. Our games were very different. We had contests of grace, of quick thinking, and of subtle magic. But for our guests, we made ready for their kind of games in a large, flat field outside the city walls. Strong, ancient trees stood around the field like silent, green-robed watchers. I walked to the edge of the field and saw the humans preparing for contests with swords and spears. They wore heavy metal suits called armor. It looked so noisy and heavy! It was a stark contrast to our light movements.
Later, I walked among some of the human scholars and maesters, discussing the different ways of healing and shaping the land. I found myself explaining how our city's pathways were not just built, but grown, guided by our old earth-shaping magic. They listened with wide eyes, writing down every word. Their world was so much about stone and steel; ours was about living earth and ancient spells. I felt a quiet satisfaction in sharing some of our knowledge, bridging the gap between our worlds, one small piece at a time.
Aelia's Point of View:
Oh, the air was just alive with joy! I was eighty-four, but I felt as light and free as a young sapling, wanting to dance and sing with every beat of the music. My deep sapphire eyes sparkled as I watched the human guests. They were so loud, so full of quick energy! They clapped their hands hard to the music, and some even tried to dance with our normal elves, laughing when they stumbled over our more flowing, gentle steps, but they always kept trying.
"Isn't it wonderful, Sister?" I asked Lorien, who stood calmly beside me, her emerald eyes watching the crowds. She was seventy-nine, our youngest, but she always had such a peaceful and understanding way about her.
"It is... vibrant, Aelia," Lorien replied softly, a small smile on her face. A tiny, jewel-toned bird, attracted by my light, landed gently on my shoulder, chirping happily. I smiled back at it, giving its soft feathers a gentle stroke. My heart loved how animals came to me so easily. It made me feel closer to the very essence of Ael'tharion.
The human knights were getting ready for their 'tourney'. They put on their heavy metal suits of armor. They carried big, blunt swords and lances. It looked so noisy and heavy! Our people moved with light steps, our armor shimmering like water or leaves. But there was a strong, fiery spirit in the humans, too, a passion that burned brightly.
I saw a young Westerosi lady, Lady Sansa, standing near a gardener from our normal elf folk. The gardener was gently touching a bush, and the bush was slowly twisting and growing into a beautiful, perfect shape. Lady Sansa's eyes were wide with pure wonder. I walked closer, my long silver hair swaying softly behind me.
"It is beautiful, is it not?" I asked her, my voice gentle.
She turned to me, her face full of awe. "It's... magic! Truly magic! We have nothing like this in Westeros. Our maesters say magic is gone from the world, a forgotten dream." She looked sad for a moment.
I smiled softly. "Not here, Lady Sansa. Here, magic breathes with us. It is the very lifeblood of Ael'tharion." I then held out my hand, palm open. In my palm, I held a small, perfect flower bud that I had picked from a nearby plant. With a soft hum, a melody only I could hear in my mind, I let a little bit of my life energy flow into the bud. The bud vibrated gently, then slowly, with a soft 'pop', it opened into a perfect, glowing bloom right there in my hand. Its petals unfurled, shimmering with faint inner light. Lady Sansa gasped, her eyes going even wider than before, like she had just seen the sun for the first time.
"Oh! By the Seven! It's truly... miraculous!" she whispered, her voice barely there, reaching out a hesitant finger to touch the glowing flower.
I just smiled, feeling light and happy. "A small gift from Ael'tharion, for your wonder." It was so fun to see their pure amazement. Our celebrations were beautiful and serene, but their celebrations had a loud, joyful fire, a lively spirit that was new and exciting to me. It felt like watching a new, bright star.
Valerion's Point of View:
The sharp clanging of metal on metal filled the air, a harsh sound to my sensitive ears. But it was a sound I had learned to hear and understand, almost like a language. I was eighty-one years old, but my body felt as quick and sharp as any young warrior, moving with fluid grace. My deep violet eyes, always watching, took in the human 'tourney grounds'. It was a large, flat space, cleared of trees, not as naturally beautiful or artfully built as our own hidden training areas.
King Jaehaerys stood near the practice lists, talking with one of his trusted lords, a tall, serious knight. I could hear their words clearly, even from a distance, about the strength of their knights and the might of their steel.
Our normal elves, the common folk of Silvanor, stood among the surrounding trees, watching with quiet curiosity. They were skilled, strong, and agile, but their way of fighting was about speed, grace, and subtle magic, not heavy armor and blunt force. They fought like the wind through the trees, not like rocks smashing against each other.
A human knight, huge in his shining plate armor, swung a practice sword at a wooden dummy. Slow, I thought, my mind racing. So very slow. And predictable. My heightened senses, which let me climb the living walls of the palace with effortless agility, told me every small detail of his swing, the shift of his weight, the weak points in his stance. It was a crude way to fight, but it held a raw power, a brute force that could break stone.
I saw some of our more adventurous normal elf warriors watching closely. Perhaps they could learn something from the human's brute strength, how they used their heavy armor and large bodies. Just as the humans could learn from our agility, our connection to the living world, and our silent movement. Our people had the deep knowledge of the land, the flow of mana, and the quiet, steady strength of the forest. The High Elves, like my family, had even more of this deep magic.
An older Westerosi knight, a very big man named Lord Borros Baratheon, let out a loud roar as his heavy spear hit a target with a crashing sound. The humans cheered loudly, raising their fists in the air. So much noise for such simple skills. But their spirit was undeniable. It was a raw, burning energy, a fire that felt different from our steady, ancient light. It was passionate and fierce. I saw my brother Aerion standing nearby with Viserra, laughing at something a human jester did. He was ready to lead both our ancient people and these fiery humans. I knew my own skills in observation and silent movement, my ability to see what others missed, would be key to keeping this new alliance safe. The world was changing fast, and we, the Silvanor, had to understand all its new parts if we were to guide it.
The celebrations lasted for many days, a grand mix of two different cultures. The quiet beauty and deep magic of the Silvanor flowed and shimmered around the loud, joyful energy of the Westerosi. Each people learned from the other, watching, listening, and slowly, gently, beginning to build something truly new together under the watchful eyes of the ancient, towering trees of Ael'tharion.