"Who are you?" The Bleádh in front of Leilae raised his nose and sniffed, stepping in front of the open doorway.
"I am Leilae, daughter of King Órothan of Caelenya. I wish to speak with Andóloreth Ingíl iedh Unaedhra Caëth."
"Oh, my lady," the elf said, bowing slightly and raising an eyebrow. He gave her a mocking smirk, clearly not convinced. He scanned her up and down, noting her worn shoes and dusty clothes. Her hair had taken on some frizz due to the humidity. "You don't look like any princess I've ever seen."
Leilae tightened her lips, holding her shoulders back in an authoritative stance.
"Perhaps you were expecting a petite, fragile thing in a long, flowing dress, adorned with jewelry of silver and gold and precious stones? Do you have any idea of the world outside this place? It is no place for dainty princesses, and it is especially unwise to travel wearing priceless Aelven jewelry, as doing so would only get me killed." She spat each word clearly with perfect diction, paying attention to the Bleádh's eyes as the words hit his face.
"I simply," she continued. "Have a few questions for Andóloreth Ingíl, and I would appreciate it if you, as his servant - "
The elf scoffed.
"I - I am no servant. Do I look like some dirty hu -- "
"I would appreciate it if you, Aelfe Bleádh, will please inform Andóloreth Ingíl of my presence and of my desire to speak with him." Leilae took a deep breath, satisfied. "If you value your job, that is," she added with a smirk.
"Let her in, Lenwyld," a voice said from inside.
Lenwyld the Aelven servant stepped aside, gesturing toward the doorway.
"You may enter," he said, avoiding her gaze.
Leilae strode inside, not bothering to thank the aelfe.
Andóloreth Ingíl of the Aelven city of Unaedhra Cäéth greeted Leilae with a low bow as she entered a small lounge. A fireplace crackled behind Ingil, making the light flicker in his silver hair.
"What a privilege that a princess of the Aelfe Milern would travel all this way to visit me. Please sit, Ii-Leilae Órothan-ethróu iedh Caelenya." He beckoned her toward a plush chair lined with burgundy velvet.
Leilae settled into the seat, sighing. She hadn't realized how tired she was from her journey and was tempted to kick off her shoes and massage her feet. Of course, that would not be proper, and she, being the representative of Caelenya for the first time in many years, ignored her urge, crossing her legs instead.
The deathlands have turned me into nothing but another dirty ruffian, she thought.
Ingil took the seat across from her, resting his ankle on his knee. His robes draped over the side of the armchair, swathing him in sophistication and elegance. Leilae straightened her back, trying to look as dignified as she could in the dusty rags, lined with sweat and dust, that clung to her skin. She smiled.
"I apologize for my attire, gwa-Ingil," she said. "I had to leave some of my items behind after being attacked by bandits."
"Yes, I have heard it is quite dangerous on the outside. I am amazed that you have come all this way just to speak to an old Dolisië." He smirked.
Leilae found herself wondering if the aelfe before her knew why she had come. Ingil answered her question.
"You've traveled across the deathlands to see a spectacle. To gaze in awe at one of the first ones. Possibly the only one left in the world." He shifted his weight onto his right arm, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "But your objective has changed. I am no longer the spectacle, for you listened instead of simply looking. I applaud you for your wisdom, and I hope you listened well."
"Indeed, I did," Leilae replied. "I listened to you promise the Aelfe Bleádh that they would rise once again, becoming dominant over this world, but I could not help but notice that you did not mention the Milern and the Craoe. What of them? What of my people who hide in the mountains with the dwarves? We have never been at the top as have the Bleádh, and I find myself worrying that we will once again serve them.
"We have restored what glory we had before. We have a king, a beloved one at that, and we have taken back our culture that was so diluted by that of the Bleádh that we had to turn to history texts and ethnographies written by our oppressors to know how we once lived. I am here speaking to you to make sure that does not happen again. If the Bleádh succeed and once again rule over the world, I humbly request that you leave us be. Let the Milern live in their caves and mountain valleys in peace. That is all I ask."
Leilae bowed her head, swallowing involuntarily. Ingil considered her for a moment before speaking.
"I have always believed that the other Aelven races--the Milern, the Craoe and the Elia--are just as good as the Bleádh and should be considered equal. If it is your desire, I will make sure that you and your people are left alone, but I would also like to offer you the opportunity to live in equality with the Bleádh. They are your former oppressors, but no longer will I allow this disgraceful disharmony among the Aelfe. It is shameful how divided our people are. It makes us no better than the humans, from whom we strive to distance ourselves. Suddenly, we find ourselves laboring to highlight the differences between the Aelfe and the Dae Heinya." He took a deep breath, leaning forward. "Ii-Leilae, I would like to help you and your people." His golden eyes locked onto hers, and she nearly gasped. Ingil's irises glowed and swam as though they contained whole worlds--whole universes teeming with life.
"A new age is coming," he said. "Let us start anew. Let us not make the mistakes of the past. This time, the Aelfe will be unified, and we will give the Deinya no mercy. We will sweep over the world and take what is ours."
"What will happen to the Deinya?" Leilae looked searchingly into Ingil's face.
"They will be put in their place. Below the Aelfe. They will serve us, and all will be as it should be."
"They won't go quietly," Lou replied. "Their lives are short, and therefore, they are much more willing to sacrifice their lives."
"This is true," Ingil said with a slight nod. For a moment, Leilae caught Ingil's eyes lingering above her own. He quickly corrected himself, lowering his gaze.
"I am no king," he said. "But I believe I can lead the Aelfe to a better future. A future in which humans will be treated as intelligent beasts. That is all they are. Talking animals."
Leilae shifted in her chair.
"I wouldn't go so far as to-- "
" --Are you not angry?" Ingil interrupted, turning his head upward. He meant to cut in, and he was not sorry. "You have been betrayed by someone you thought was your friend. Many Aelfe have gone through the same situation. There is no need for us to answer to, or even respect, these Deinya. They are fragile, sickly, and ugly." He scoffed. "Who would create such pitiful creatures if not for them to serve the Aelfe? If not to be beaten down and disciplined until they become mindless slaves? You see, when we let them climb onto our shoulders, once they had their grip on the top level, they beat us down, leaving us trapped below them. Then they destroyed all that had been given to us. The very world outside these walls is evidence of their inferiority--their tendency toward destruction. Their inability to become responsible for themselves and the world around them. They kill each other off, and then they kill everything else. We have every reason to take this world back. To heal it and to set things right. Or would you simply have us all die because of the humans' recklessness? Or to their envy combined with their murderous nature, as did the Dolisie?"
Ingil leaned forward, taking Leilae's hands. She felt a jolt travel throughout her body and a wave of pleasure, as though electricity flowed from his skin. She looked down at her hands and watched as Ingil's glow touched them, the light seemingly soaking into her skin. Ingil gave her a smile that caused her heart to flutter.
"Let us end this reign of terror. Let us rise up to bring light to the darkness. Let us heal the earth and restore the pride of our people. Let us--you, Ii-Leilae Órothan-ethróu iedh Caelenya, and I, and the Bleádh, the Milern, the Craoe, and the Elia, all the Aelfe--band together, hand in hand, for a better future."
He let go of Leilae's hands, and she stared at her fingers, mesmerized, as the glow lingered on her skin, emitting a tingly warmth. Soon, the glow faded, and she was back to normal. Ingil watched her in silence, his eyes smiling at Leilae's moment of childish awe.
"I want to share my light with you," Ingil said softly. "I want to share it with you completely. Let us form an alliance, Leilae. Let us wed, ensuring the future for both our clans."
*(This will not be in Gangs of Olympia, but it will happen at some point in the AtGS series)
Leilae and Ingil have a short discussion (excerpt from Gangs of Olympia)
"Those damned traitors! They would turn us against each other!" Leilae gazed into the fire, leaving Ingil to speak to her back. She ground her nails into her palms, heat building inside her body and bringing tears to her eyes, which she lowered in shame.
The rebel boy's image danced in front of her eyes, and his words would not leave her mind--
"Look, you're a Milern. You know what it's like to want to be free from the Bleadh..."
Did she? Leilae had been born a free Milern in Caelenya. Her father, however--she had always had trouble imagining the king of the Aelfe Milern, Orothan the Handsome, toiling away in nothing but rags under a Bleadh's whip.
But the situation was different. The Deinya were better off than they were before they came to Ysla Ipthiel. They no longer starved, no longer spent the nights in fear, afraid that they would be murdered in their sleep for the little bit of water they had left in their bottles. They had work. They had shelter. Why would they complain when all that was out there for them was the Deathlands?
"It seems they've already succeeded in converting one Bleadh--or should I say 'Elia' now--to their cause," Ingil replied. Leilae did not answer, attempting to collect herself. She should not show such open displays of emotion. She wiped away her tears, disgusted.
Only with family was she allowed to bear her soul. That was the way of the Milern. Only with her father--the coldest Aelfe she knew--could she cry.
And with herself.
Perhaps when they married, Ingil would allow her to shed tears in his presence, but would she dare express herself freely in front of her betrothed? Before the marriage? Maybe not freely, but maybe just...
Leilae turned cautiously toward the Dolisie, but he did not seem to be bothered by her distance, nor did he seem to care. In fact, he was much too busy grooming himself to even take note of Leilae's breech of etiquette. Ingil ran his fingers through his silver hair, moving on to pick stray pieces of lint and dust from his clothes, reminding Leilae of a swan preening its feathers.
Annoyed at her eagerness to give the Dolisie any extra attention than he already received, even in the midst of her own attempt to attract attention to herself, Leilae huffed, focusing on the fire once more.
It seemed her betrothed would not be comforting her, upset as she was, and though Leilae was disappointed, she was not surprised. The Dolisie had a way of--distracting--many of those in his presence, but concern for others was not a trait he possessed. Though most of these others--those who did not know Ingil as well as Leilae had come to know him during the past year--would say differently, as the shining silver "prince" had a smile and a compliment for anyone he encountered. Except for Leilae, of course.
Leilae knew he would never care for her, so she had to be strong--all by herself, and that meant showing no weakness. As far as Ingil was concerned, they were just having a casual conversation brought on by a bit of stray curiosity.
"Yes, I know of the Aelfe. The one those foolish rebels somehow convinced to fight for them." she said. "It's a shame. Ithrimane Aelinde--was he not honored for his heroic efforts during the Outsider Invasion just a few years past?"
"He was," Ingil said with a sigh. He finished preening, running his hands down his robe one last time. "But I suppose some will simply fight mindlessly for any cause. He probably got bored and joined the rebels." Leilae turned to meet his eyes, forcing a smirk onto her face.
"I suppose I'm no stranger to causing trouble out of sheer boredom, but I've grown up now. I know better than that."
"Perhaps he never learned," Ingil replied. He shrugged. "Ah, well, this time around, he will certainly learn a very valuable lesson--and have time to ponder it while swinging from the end of a rope." Leilae detected a soft chuckle as it escaped from the Dolisie's lips. "Was it Aelinde who lost a leg that year? Or a foot? Poor thing, I don't see how he would be of any use to anyone, much less a band of rebels living like animals up in the mountains."
"Did he?" Leilae asked. "Did he lose a leg? I've heard rumors of someone losing his leg, but I didn't know it was him. His injury was not mentioned on his plaque in the grand chamber."
"I believe he lost the leg afterward, after the Invasion, though the details on how it happened are--well, simply choose a scenario, and others will confirm it. Eagerly, even," said Ingil. "I guess Asuriel was right about him--he called the boy reckless and needlessly angry, and obviously, Aelinde wasn't too fond of the General, to say the least. He almost killed Asuriel very shortly before losing his leg--however that happened.
But despite his failure, Aelinde managed to shake our most famous and seasoned warrior up quite a bit, and Asuriel didn't get his position by being a bad fighter, you know. Imagine his reputation if he had been killed by that young brat. He'd be laughed straight into an Elia, no matter how dead he was, and then his wife, his children, his cat, his precious medals, even his ashes would be thrown straight into the Deathlands." Ingil stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"What did you think of him, by the way?"
Leilae's voice caught in her throat.
"I - what do you mean?"
"What did you think of General Asuriel when we dined with him last week? Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten already." Ingil rolled his eyes.
"No, I haven't forgotten!" Leilae held her shoulders back, lifting her gaze. "It just isn't typical of you to seek my opinion."
"I was simply wondering. It's not as though I'm asking for advice, dear." Ingil turned away, reaching for a nearby carafe filled with red wine. "But nevermind." He said it softly, focusing intently on the wine, which he now poured into a crystal glass. The liquid seemed to glitter crimson gold as it neatly filled the bowl. "It's not important."
Ii-Leilae Orothan-ethrou iedh Caelenya takes a walk through the King's garden in Ysla Ipthiel (excerpt from Gangs of Olympia)
link to Leilae's character page here
Leilae's friend--a Deinya by the name of Joanne--once told her that it seemed as though the Aelfe were untouched by the world, their bodies made of light and hair of silk, smelling of the air--light and sweet. Even the Milern were majestic, gliding through the streets with their heads held high, like kings and queens, but still soft as clouds, with each movement graceful, as though they were part of some elaborate dance that only the Aelfe knew.
However, Joanne's impression of Aelven perfection soon shattered after she came to work for them--washing their dishes, cleaning their floors, scrubbing their toilets--suddenly, the Aelfe seemed no different than the crude Deinya. They got angry, they argued, they cried, they hurt, and they abused. Sure, they were quite fair, but the myth of "Aelven wisdom" was soon replaced by nothing but familiarity.
Leilae had learned of this myth--and of others--from her human companions throughout the years in Caelenya, and every one seemed to be even more ridiculous than the last. Surely nobody was perfect, but, as Leilae had discovered--many Deinya truly believed that the Aelfe had achieved true perfection--had been given perfection right from the start, even.
She knew jealousy, and over the years Leilae had come to recognize it quite easily. The greedy Deinya would smile, but in their eyes were hunger and anger--
--And many Aelfe wouldn't have it any other way. Every Aelven myth gave them power, and even the Milern, who had toiled under the oppression of the Bleadh for much of their existence, could become mighty lords among men. Objects of worship, envy, and desire.
Leilae could not deny that the Aelfe had truly been given many gifts by the One and the All. The Deinya were not so lucky, but the Milern princess, naive as she had been for most of her short life, had truly believed that there had to be something special about the Deinya, a people so fragile and yet so rough. But as she grew up, she realized--as most Aelfe had--that there was nothing special about them. Some had even suggested that the Deinya were not made by the One and the All, but by some other rebellious faerie, desiring to be worshiped. Perhaps that was why the Deinya had so many gods among them--the faeries did love playing their cruel jokes. They became gods, they rose, they fell, and rose once again, so many of them, claiming to have all the answers.
But, as a few outspoken Aelfe had pointed out, the One and the All was a faerie just like the rest. It grew fat with power as they continued to praise it, but to not do so would be unheard of. The Aelfe were made by the Unknown. They owed it their lives.
But did the Unknown make the Deinya? Truly, it didn't matter, but Leilae could not help but wonder at times.
Azrwych the Corrupt created the Deinya as cruel caricatures of Aelven flaws. Every flaw the Aelfe had, the Deinya would possess ten-fold, a hundred-fold, and unless the Aelfe worked to make themselves better, the Dae Heinya--the humans--would be forever cursed, generation after fleeting generation.
