3Chapter One
Written By: James N. Jewell
Delarian Mahertos gazed, longingly, across the room at her. Celestia Gazer, the beauty that she was, knowingly attracted the eye of every male, and even some female, elf at the Spring Festival gathering. Wearing a white silken gown, embroidered with silver ruins of ancient elven words of magic, she would grace the floor, meeting and greeting other guests at the party. Delarian took note of the high hem line that left bare the middle of her shin, and down to her sun bleached leather sandles.
He knew that this show of skin was intentional, for they have been playing this game for some time now. She would try to attract his eye, whilst he would pretend not to notice. Although now, the game was a bit changed, for Celestia knew she had gotten Delarian's eye, ever since last summer, when he had shown his interest in her and won her heart over during a short getaway. Now, she teased and prodded him, just to see if he would be able to keep civilized, and restrain himself during this social gathering. And for the time being, he was doing just that, with his drink in his left hand, slowly swirled by the circular movement of his hand, and with his right, he would shake the hands of his fellow noblemen.
"I would watch that one," they would tell him. "A woman who goes around acting as she does is bound to stray, if let, of course." But Delarian paid no mind to these warnings. He knew Celestia, and trusted her. And why not? He had no reason to dowbt her loyalty, her faithfulness to him that she has shown him for nearly a year. Althought he knew a year was an insubstantial period of time, he loved her, and, therefore, trusted her.
Delarian watched as she made her way around to him, her graceful elegance shining with every stride. The nearer she drew, the harder for him it was to draw breath. With her smooth, tanned skin, a hint of rouge on her cheeks, long, flowing brown hair, blood red lips, and the largest, green eyes that could trap you in their gaze forever if you looked to deep, she reminded him of somthing out of a dreem.
"You're being awfully quiet tonight," Celestia says, finally reaching Delarian. He offers her a glass of wine, which she takes, and sips from.
"I lost all words when I seen you, I suppose." He leads her to a table in the corner of the large room carved out of the grandest tree in all of Silvermor. "You are looking quite exquisite, as always," Delarian tells her, pulling out her chair.
"Thank you. You seem to be controlling yourself well in my presence. Tell me. Do I no longer hasten the flow of your blood, or excite your eye upon seeing me?" Celestia slides up against the table, placing the cup in front of her.
"My dear Celestia. That is not it at all. Every time my line of vision crosses paths with you, my blood grows hot with fire, my palms sweat, and I hear nothing but the drumming of my heart in my ears. But, since we have been together, I've found ways of controlling my passions for you. You are, however, still extremely tempting," Delarian remarks as he takes his seat.
"Well," she says, intrigued. "I suppose I'll just have to find new ways to stir a reaction from you then, Delarian." She turns in her seat, and watches as a small, four elf band begins to play an upbeat, elven music.
"Celestia?" Delarian says, getting the attention of this strikingly beautiful woman. "Do you love me?" The question suprises her, and she turns back towards the elf she has long known, since childhood. "And by love," he continues, "I don't mean just strong feelings. I mean the kind of love where, if we had to, you would leave with me in the middle of the night, not knowing where we would go. Do you love me enough to spend the rest of your years with me?" Delarian asks her, straight faced with seriousness.
"I don't know," she slowly answers him, staring him in the eye. "I mean, we really haven't been together long enough for me to be able to say either way. I do know that I care for you deeply, your gentle kiss and embrace leaves me wanting you to never let go. But, I don't think that is necessarily considered to be love." She reaches for his hand, in order to take hold of it, and he allows her. Her silky smooth hand is warm to the touch, and fills him with happyness, the warmth inviting.
"I understand," Delarian assures her, gently squeezing her hand in his. "I was just curious, is all." He smiles at her and she turns back towards the musicians. Delariun reaches into his chest pocket on his golden vest, and produces a golden ring, from it, that he begins to inspect. He notices the masterful workmanship of the inscribing he had placed on the inside surface of the ring. 'From my heart to yours,' he said to himself, reading the inscription. He thumbs the inlaid silver design of twisting vines and leaves, intricately woven around one another, it would seem, along the outer surface of the ring.
He placed the object, he hoped to one day give to Celestia, back into his pocket, that he may save it for a more fitting time. Delarian stands and crosses in front of her. Extending his hand, he asks her, "Would you like to dance?" She gently nods her acceptance and, placing her hand in his, rises to her feet. The two, hand in hand, cross the floor and finds a spot to dance in. With hands still held, he puts his free hand on her waist, and she on his shoulder. As they move around the floor, he is reminded of the graceful movement of wind, through the branches of a forest of trees, as she glides on her feet, almost floating, he thinks. 'What a wonderous woman,' he says to himself.
* * *
Delarian, lying on his satin and silk sheets, stares at his ceiling, thinking about Celestia. Celestia - kin in the House of Lightseer - is a fine, noble woman indeed. With the blood of many generations of the wealthy, elite class of nobility running in her veins, she was definately well worth the time he spent on her, both thinking as well as being with her. He knew he loved her, and was longing for the time when she could tell him how much love she had for him.
This thought made Delarian smile, and feel warm all over, the sheets of his bed, like the fingers and gentle tought of Celestia. He pulled the sheets around him, thinking of his lover embracing him, sliding her soft hands all over his body. He threw off his sheets and quickly got dressed, putting on a dark-brown vest, loosely fitting elk-skinned trowsers, and pulled on boots, made from thick hide from a creature in a far off land. He had to see her, his passions growing, he had to hold her and run his fingers through her long, silky hair.
As he ran out the door, he grabbed his green cloak, signifying his mage statis in the Hous of Imajik, the family who's very blood ran with magic. Delarian cut across the lands of Herbgrass, a familly who's gardens flurished with medicine and herbs for potions and stews, Steelbale, who's children were all masters with an anvil, Starbreeze, a House of clerics, all were Houses of noble blood, all passed until he reached the home of Celestia. The great white mansion, barely a suitable home for her noble family, as far as they were concerned.
Delarian climbed up a vine fence, running the full hight of the wall, until he came to her open window, in which the smell of her sweet perfume emanated. From inside the room, he could hear Celestia's voice, song in his ear. "He asked me if I loved him," she was saying. Delarian recognized that she was talking about him, and slowly lifted his head enough to peer over her windowsill. His eyes widened as fear, anger, sadness, and jelousy flooded over his heart, as he laid his eyes upon his only love, sharing her bed with another elf. Lorn Willoweave, from House Senisis. Delarian's blood ran cold in his veins as he watched Celestia kiss the cheek of Lorn.
"So this is what you've been doing with your spare time," a voice said, harsh with anger. Startled, Celestia pulls the sheets to her chest and looks towards the window where she heard the voice, instantly recognized at Delarian's. She watched helplessly as Delarian pulled himself through the window and into her room. "What is this? You're willing to share your days with me, but your night belong to him?" He crosses the room and grabs Lorn, and, yanking him from the bed, throws him to the floor.
"Stop it Delarian!" Celestia screams at him as he begins to repetedly kick Lorn in the ribs. Delarian pays her no attention as he beats Lorn in the side with his boot, blood spitting from his mouth. Not able to bare Lorn's cries of pain, Celestia jumps from her bed and tries to pry Delarian away from Lorn. Delarian throws her off his arm, back onto the bed. "Stop! You're going to kill him," she shrieks at him.
Delarian ceases kicking Lorn, and looks into the face of Celestia, her tear-soaked cheeks and blurry eyes pleading with him to stop. "Why must you care for him?" he asks her. "Why must he mean more to you then I? Does he love you more than the rise of the sun in the morning, with its warm, golden rays? What makes him more deserving than I? He couldn't possibly love you nearly as much as I do. Why do you cry for him?"
"I'm sorry, Delarian. But I love him. We can't control our feelings of love. Please, let him be," she begs him. "I just don't want you anymore."
"Whatever," he says, sliding out her window. Climbing back down the vines, he hears Celestia asking Lorn if he is alright. "So this is what shall be," he says while racing back to his home, cutting back through the yards, no longer giving any effort to being quiet. "There goes the love of my life, and I'm helpless to do anything about it. This sucks, to say the least."
Delarian enters his home and makes his way to his chamber, not giving any thought of disturbing the servents or other members of his House. He lays back on his bed, the sheets as cold as Celestia's touch would now feel to him. He rolls around, trying to get comfortable, trying to make sense of what just took place, when he suddenly comes to full comprehension of what happened, and lies still. "I've just lost my Celestia," he chokes out, and starts to cry.