Heart Over Sword-Chapter 239: Your word (1)

In the heart of Lyvaria, where an icy lake contained a sleeping water dragon, where none ventured to, two lovers held hands before a priestess, the lake at the woman’s back while Selvin and Loraven kneeled in the snow, staring at one another warmly. Loraven did not agree to be Selvin’s wife immediately. In fact, Selvin spent two weeks secretly meeting her until he’d battered through the steely wall surrounding her heart she’d spent years building up again.

Loraven would have said yes, but they’d spent so long apart, and the she-elf was wary that the time they’d spent together years before might have been romanticised a little in her head. Those thoughts fled her mind within an hour of spending time with him.

Another week had passed, and Loraven knew Queen Iolena was getting impatient. She’d constantly sent Edric to check on her daughter and make sure she remained hidden from the guests. Loraven played her part well, kicking up a fuss but not enough to cause her mother to see her. At that time, Loraven and Selvin formed a plan.

The king and queen would disapprove of their union, but they could not do anything if the pair eloped and returned to the kingdom of Dunhurst before they heard of the news or were too far away for the guards to hunt them down. That was why one of the people they chose to witness the sacred marriage vows between them was none other than Edric, the queen’s right-hand man. It was forced, of course.

Edric was tied up and sitting uncomfortably in the snow, mouth gagged with a red ribbon. At first, he’d squirmed and tried speaking, but now he remained quiet, watching it all. Sir Hugh, a trusted close friend and guard of Selvin’s, stood behind him, his features stoic as he leaned against his long sword stabbed into the snow behind Edric.

Loraven was in an icy blue dress that faded into a white that met the blanket of snow; her shoulders were bare, her hair left untamed and wildly falling down her back, with her face without any makeup. She wore a necklace, one of the brightest emerald, an heirloom that her mother’s mother passed down to her on her eighteenth. Only those in their bloodline could wear it, and although it did not go with her dress, she wore it for their elopement.

With their hands joined together, the priestess wrapped a material made of ice droplets that sparkled under the early morning sun that rose and made the icy lake sparkle in hues of yellows, oranges and reds. The icy material melded together once the ends were left loose, and Selvin and Loraven’s hands were tightly intertwined. The priestess, whose features were hidden behind silvery blue lace face covering, raised her white-gloved hand for them to proceed with the ancient elven words of their matrimony.

Loraven taught Selvin the words two nights in a row until he was fluent. They planned to marry and create a bond in Lyvaria before marrying the human style in front of the royal family and nobles in Dunhurst.

Speaking the words, synchronising their sentences together, and telling the gods their love and union were just, they would take care of one another and never intentionally cause harm to each other. Selvin and Loraven’s lips brushed against the icy fabric around their hands, eyes connected as they did so. The priestess had her hands on their heads, citing more words about their union. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

A light blue glow formed between them and to the left side of Loraven and the right side of Selvin. Loraven felt hot and cold flushes growing in intensity until the left side of her ribs caused a slight stinging pain. She winced, as did Selvin, but then the pain simmered, and the light dissipated.

"*It is done.*"

Loraven looked down to see the icy material had melted and disappeared. The pair smiled, eyes alight before Selvin gently sealed his lips against hers. Loraven smiled and leaned her forehead against his as the sun shone between them, warming their faces.

"We need to go," Selvin whispered. Their bags were packed already. Selvin’s guards were waiting in the forest at a good distance from them.

"Congratulations, your majesty." Sir Hugh came forwards with a slight bow, a smile on his lips like he was genuinely happy for them before he rested his eyes on Loraven. "What would you like me to do with your elven friend?"

Loraven looked at Edric. "He is no friend of mine," she stated simply, then cleared her throat, feeling merciful. "The rope around his hands will gradually loosen until the time I set on them will run out. Edric will be released at the appropriate time. There is no need to worry."

No need to worry that he would return to the palace in time or die in the harsh weather. A cave was nearby, one that no creature or animal stayed in. The dragon in the lake may be asleep, but it kept predators and prey away. The area was quiet except for the occasional bird.

Sir Hugh bowed his head and turned, remaining a guard for the pair. "I should get changed for the journey," Loraven murmured. She wished to stay in her dress longer, but when she looked back at her husband, wearing a dress or her usual ranger attire, it did not matter. As long as she was with him and could spend the rest of her life with him, nothing else mattered.

⚜⚜⚜

Weeks later, when only word reached them that Loraven’s parents knew and had pursued them unwisely through a blizzard and lost many elves, the pair had almost reached Dunhurst. Loraven woke up beside her husband in an inn. They were waiting for Osian to arrive with his legion of knights and to make a formal entrance with Loraven as Selvin’s fiancé.

It would be quite the reveal and one that would set ties between the kingdoms even if Loraven’s parents disapproved. She had received word from them to never return to Lyvaria and that she was no longer their child. If she or Selvin were to set foot in the mountains again, they would be killed.

By this point, Loraven’s heart had hardened towards them. She had a future to look forward to. One with her husband. She couldn’t stop smiling or thinking about those words. Selvin Goodrich, king of Dunhurst, was her husband and father to the life forming in her stomach.

They had been in blissful happiness travelling back from Lyvaria. Their nights were full of heated passion, ending with their naked bodies embracing each other as they spoke more about what they’d been doing for the last nine years. At that time, or possibly when they were in the palace planning their elopement, Loraven fell pregnant.

Loraven was yet to break the news to Selvin, but he seemed fatigued, exhausted even over the last couple of days. The king was so tired he even looked to have aged a few years. So Loraven let him sleep in and waited until his eyes were open to tell him the grand news.

Selvin’s eyes lit up, tears streaming down the sides of his face as he clutched Loraven’s face and kissed her all over, making her giggle and snuggle into him further. They were in their own bubble, thinking of the future life they’d have together with their unborn child. Loraven knew it would take some time for the nobles at court to get used to her, but she didn’t care.

Selvin had already told her that court life in Lyvaria was crueller than any he’d seen before. Loraven would be fine against those who would oppose her. But that didn’t seem quite so important after watching her husband start to cough up blood.

Something was wrong.

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