haebin

Okay, at first I have to apologize because this chapter is really small. I think, it is the smallest I have ever uploaded here, but I have to re-work the next chapters (searching for typos etc) and I didn't because it was Christmas-Week. I apologize and hope, you will still like it.
Thank you so, so much for reading nevertheless. It means so much to me. :3

The night had been long and restless, and Ysilia felt the exhaustion in her whole body and the lack of sleep as she followed her parents down the grand staircase and entered the Great Hall, which was already filled with guests. Lost in thought, she followed them to the long table where the ruler, his sons, and his First Hand would take their seats.
His sons... Trálír...
Ysilia sighed heavily. During the night, she had had to admit to herself that even though she could understand Trálír's rejection, it still hurt her. She would have been willing to share him, to accept his love for this other woman without complaint. But deep down, she knew that she would hope every day that the ruler's son would eventually turn to her.
However, he had vehemently rejected her suggestion, and she knew that his words were true. The young elfess also knew that he would not break the bond with his companion. You could see it in his eyes when he spoke of her, you could hear it in his voice.
It would never happen in her long existence that he would turn to her. It would be unbearable torture for her to wait for his return, for loving words or a tender glance. Something she wanted and longed for so much, but that Trálír would never do.
Ysilia was briefly torn from her thoughts when a servant asked her to take a seat at the long table as breakfast was about to begin. She nodded politely, walked over to the chair and sat down. The table was already set; it seemed as if they were just waiting for Trálír, the elder, to begin. Her mother and father took their seats to her left, which meant they would be sitting right next to the ruler. The empty seat next to her would be taken by Trálír, and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that someone was sitting down at the table.
Despite the lingering feeling of sadness, Ysilia felt joy at seeing Trálír and turned to him with a friendly smile on her lips, only to frown in surprise at the sight of the soldier. The elf, dressed in the uniform of the Blackwater Lands and thus a sign that he belonged to the ruler's inner circle, returned her smile.

“I hope you had a pleasant night, my lady?” he asked in a warm voice, the smile still on his well-formed lips.
“Yes, I... the night... yes,” stammered Ysilia, finally clearing her throat and then replying, “Yes, certainly. The sound of the waves is an excellent way to fall asleep.”
The elf laughed.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Aneirin.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Aneirin,” replied Ysilia, when she suddenly heard the ruler's voice. She turned in the direction from which his words came and saw him, the second youngest son, and his First Hand, Neererin, striding into the hall.
And where was Trálír? Ysilia wondered in surprise and looked around, but she couldn't see him anywhere.
“Are you looking for your fiancé?” Aneirin murmured amusedly, and a slight blush spread across Ysilia's cheeks, as she was embarrassed that he had caught her conspicuously searching for the firstborn. She cleared her throat to hide her rising nervousness and asked, “Is he unable to attend? I can't see him anywhere.”
The elf leaned slightly toward Ysilia and lowered his voice as he addressed her: “It is said that he was so fond of alcohol yesterday that he couldn't set foot outside today.”
“Really?” she replied quietly, frowning. On the first evening of her visit, Trálír had drunk too much and confessed to her during their conversation yesterday that he would not repeat this mistake. And since they had spent most of the day together, Ysilia could confirm his words. He hadn't touched a drop of wine, and even when she had sneaked into his chamber late at night, there had been no sign that he had been drunk.

She considered for a moment whether she should confide in the elf, Aneirin, but ultimately decided against it.
Trálír, the elder, now turned to his guests and opened the morning meal. As Ysilia pointed to a slice of bread, which the servant then spread with butter, and to a bowl of berries sugared with honey and a jug of milk, she wondered if Trálír had really found a solution to their shared problem. Was that the reason for his absence this morning?
A hunt was planned for the male guests today, while the women would retreat to the west wing, left to their own devices as in so many other noble houses. Perhaps there would be an opportunity to do handicrafts such as weaving or spinning? If not, her mother would certainly have made sure that the maids had brought their embroidery with them.
If not, she would love to pay another visit to the impressively large library.

Perhaps the ruler would use the opportunity to hunt to talk to her father, to inform him that his son wanted to break off the engagement. Ysilia knew that her father had no interest in quarrels or wars, but she suspected that this development would not please him nonetheless. Whether the two men would still carry out their joint plans after this event was written in the stars.
And then she thought of the public announcement the night before, of all the elves, of the highest standing, connected all the way to the Sword Coast, and her stomach knotted painfully.
She, daughter of Count Silverleaf, had been rejected by the ruler's son, who clearly had no interest in taking her as his wife. She could only too well imagine the whispering behind closed hands and the malicious glances. A long, sad sigh escaped her lips. Aneirin, who had heard it, looked at her questioningly, and Ysilia forced herself to smile.
“Then let's see where the day takes us, shall we?” Her voice sounded thin and hollow to her own ears.
She bit without any interest into the bread and stared silently at all the food that had been served on the table.