It has long been tradition, that at Harvestmere in Ferelden, prospective couples have the highest chance of success, as far fewer restrictions tend to be maintained during the festives.
Curiously, the vast majority of Fereldan children are born in Solis, the seventh month of the year, roughly nine months later.
- Talia Aulus, Thoughts on Fereldan Culture
…
In the Spirit of Harvestmere
…
Meanwhile, in the chamber given to Brelyna Maryon by the Arl, things of quite a different nature than an ensuing brawl were taking place. Brelyna, doing her best so as not to squirm in place, sat before the mirror and stand, trying not to flinch when her hair was pulled, ever so gently.
"Are you…certain this is necessary?" she dared not actually look up, fearing she would blush to death if she actually watched what was happening to her.
"Just sit still, I'm almost done."
"I don't…I never did something like this before…" she muttered, feeling another braid becoming intertwined.
"That's pretty obvious…" Cíada muttered, her usually cheeky grin replaced by an expression of utmost concentration. Her hands were aglow, never ceasing their summons of petals and stalks as she worked, binding them into the obsidian locks; "Seriously though, I'd kill for hair like yours. How in Andraste's socks do you keep it so…goddamn smooth. I mean, we're going everywhere and sleeping out and you just…It's magic, isn't it?"
"…maybe a little." The Dunmer admitted shyly.
"Right…Well, you should probably try braids like this more often." Cíada mused, taking a step back to admire her own handiwork; "Like, seriously, it looks good on you. And it's got a good contrast with the flowers too…Dear Maker, I've done it. I've actually yanked a beauty out of the bookworm."
"There certainly seems to be a certain…appeal, to your appearance now, that was not there before." Morrigan grinned, relining on her stomach on Brelyna's bed; "T'is true, Brelyna, you are quite striking. Braids certainly become you."
"I…never really thought about that."
"Oh, trust me it does." The smaller elf grinned, giving her friend a clap on the back; "Now, we just need to get you in a proper dress, and that Gilmore won't know what hit him…How're you feeling 'bout pine-green?"
Elsewhere in Redcliffe
Currently unaware of the approaching fight between the resident shapeshifter of the Grey Wardens, and the Viper of Rivain, Aedan Cousland found himself subjected to what some might refer to as interrogation by means banter and manual labor.
In other words, he was tasked with carrying the goods Rhea Aulus bought from the stands situated around Redcliffe, all the while the woman drive in question after question. It was fraying on his nerves, knowing that a single wrong answer, moment of hesitation or somehow displeasing the elven ruler and Talia's mother, could see him at best subjected to torture.
At least, that was what his mind was conjuring up. Rhea Aulus had a presence that, even when smiling, made one wary of disagreeing with her. That she was also seemingly set on finding out his every flaw, only added to his misfortunes.
He was already carrying baskets on both arms, stuffed with everything from pies and apples, to everyday things the woman had found amusing, and even jewelry he could never imagine a noblewoman wearing. Brass rings, necklaces and the like, and even wooden pearls on strings. It was not that he would ever question why a woman bought what she did - Leliana's mania for shoes had numbed him to this long ago - but that he had to carry it throughout the village was somewhat…awkward.
And it'd help if the children of the village weren't laughing and pointing at him. Several of the stand-keeps also seemed to find his situation more than a little amusing, or just outright gawked. Probably because they weren't used to viewing Grey Wardens as pack-mules.
"Are you listening, Aedan?" Rhea Aulus' voice came off slightly miffed, giving him the impression that she'd already said something once, and was now annoyed at having to repeat it. 'She'd more likely rip the ground apart and throw it at you…'
"Yes, I- I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last word."
Feigning partial ignorance was better than admitting complete ignorance. Hopefully. The mother of his comrade and lover was only akin to her daughter - so far - in the apparent speed with which her temper could change.
She was holding up an armband of spiraling brass, with droplet-sized amber inlaid at the end. A priceless piece of jewelry to most people, most likely. Aedan couldn't imagine actually wearing it though, and retaining the arm's movement. The man selling it pointedly did not look like he hailed from Redcliffe, and was eying Rhea with far more interest than a simple costumer would draw.
"I said, 'what do you think?'" she repeated, holding up the piece; "Give me your honest opinion, it's important."
"You mean…how I think it looks?"
"I mean, what do you think of this piece?" she emphasized; "You know my daughter well enough to sleep with her…" Aedan could feel his heart stopping for a second, and the stand-keeper's eyes widened just a little, looking between the two of them. He was probably trying to figure out what the Hell Rhea even was. "…would she wear this?"
"W-would, you mean, you're asking me whether Talia would wear that?" dear Maker. Fergus had warned him of this once, never to get involved whenever women discussed jewelry, fashion, politics…anything in general. Oriana had laughed, when he'd asked her why, a few years back. She'd said it was because men had no idea about those things, and that women secretly pitied them.
He was starting to somehow doubt she had been completely honest with him, back then. But Aedan was not one for thinking ill of the dead, and instead refocused his attention at trying to gauge how best to respond.
"I think…" he tried, examining the armband. Rhea lifted it more into the late autumn sun, letting the metals reflect the light.
"Yes?"
"…she'd like it, for looking nice, I guess…" this was him taking a leap of faith, considering Talia was by far the most practical young woman he knew. Wardens, in general, could not afford otherwise; "…but if it stopped her from moving, she'd end up never wearing it. She likes practical things, I…think?"
Talia's mother gave him an appraising look, red eyes narrowed into horizontal slits. Aedan felt as if she could see his heart beating ever faster, and wanted most of all to avert his eyes and avoid her gaze. Still, he was man enough to meet her look instead, much as it made him want to squirm.
"Hmm." She finally nodded, handing the piece back to the stand-keeper. Aedan felt ready to drop; they'd done this three times already, with clothes, earrings and a necklace. So far, at least to his knowledge, he hadn't been wrong; "You're catching on, it seems."
"…thank the Maker…" he whispered under his breath, low enough that Rhea hopefully would not hear it; "Where to now?"
"Now, I was thinking you could show me the Chantry." Thát made Aedan wary. He knew for a fact his own mother had already walked the village with her, so whatever purpose Talia's mother had to go there, it was not what she said. Andraste help me in this my hour of need. "We can find a bench and sit, and talk some more."
It seemed, he lamented, that Andraste would not come to his aid.
With it only still being the middle of the afternoon, the Chantry was not yet holding the sermon. That would be later in the evening, and from what he'd heard, tended to be quite entertaining when obviously intoxicated clerics had to hold the sermon for a village full of equally intoxicated people.
The lack of people meant the gardens around the Chantry were mostly devoid of life, with the odd couple seated as far away from prying eyes as they could get. It wasn't until Aedan was pointedly looking anywhere but at the direction Rhea was heading, that he realized one of the couples seemed…familiar.
They were partially concealed behind an as of yet not withered rose hedge, though the flowers had died, and failed to fully hide the young people behind them. Aedan couldn't see who the woman was, but he felt like his knees had been shoved a meter away from under him when he recognized the man as none other than Gilmore.
Thát, if anything, only made him look harder at the woman.
At first, Aedan was asking himself if something had happened between his Dunmer friend and family knight, since the woman on the bench did not resemble Brelyna. Initially, that was. When the shock slowly left him, he could see that, Maker's breath, it actually was. It was Brelyna, though her robes had been exchanged for a simple, if fine green dress, and her obsidian hair was braided with daisies intertwined, and a garland of dandelions sat on her head.
Andraste's socks, there was an actual, stunningly beautiful girl underneath that hood. Gilmore probably didn't realize it, but he would be the envy of every other man in Redcliffe if that knowledge came out.
Also, where had she found Dandelions this time of year?
"Ah, so I see she did take my advice to heart." So captivated with what was really a private thing was he, that Aedan nearly jumped out of his boots when Rhea's voice came from merely a foot to his right; "I think it would be best not to interrupt them, don't you?"
"You mean…you set them up?" he had to ask, obvious as the answer already was. He knew Talia had been lamenting those two and their inability to get…well, to get their feelings out in the open. It was not how Talia usually would phrase it, but to find that her mother had done something that had actually worked, that was perhaps the bigger surprise. The woman in question leveled a look at him that could be both amused and stern, and he honestly could not tell which it was.
"I did no such thing, young man." Rhea declared with only a fraction of mirth to her words; "I merely offered young Miss Maryon the advice, and push, she required to come to terms with her own emotions. I was young once too, I'll have you know. I remember the shame and agony of coming to terms with your first infatuation all too well."
"O-of course, I didn't meant - mean to assume…It's just, Talia's been talking a lot about how she wanted to see them together and, I thought she'd told you and made you, you know, help out or…Maker's breath, I mean…"
"It is quite alright, Aedan." Rhea actually chuckled, an odd sound coming from a woman of her frightening presence. Her features softened as she spoke; "Come, let us leave the two of them be. I would like to just sit down and talk."
He nodded and followed, knowing there was little else he could do. Running was, of course, out of the question, not to mentioned that he still carried the woman's purchase and could not just take off with them, much as his instincts were screaming at him to do just that. Rhea found them one of the unoccupied benches, a solid slap of local granite carved into form.
"Your mother was the first to actually speak with me after my arrival to Redcliffe, did she tell you that?" the elven woman started out as he sat down the goods, and joined her on the sun-bathed stone. Talia's mother was giving him a look of pure curiosity, for reasons he couldn't discern. He slowly shook his head, no, mother had not mentioned that; "It was after I had accompanied Keeper Lanaya to the meeting with Arl Eamon, Teagan and your mother, that the hours were getting late, and I found her reclining in the very room in which we met. She seemed in need of company, and, I felt a need to find out more of Talia's whereabouts…"
"I take it, you got along well enough?"
"Much to my surprise, yes, we did." He blinked curiously at that, having not expected the woman to admit such a thing; "Mind you, my expectations of your culture was mostly from what Lanaya and her people told me, so I was wary of religious zealotry and bigotry. I was, you could say, pleasantly surprised to find that this was…mostly not the case. Lady Eleanor being one such individual, I have grown to like her, and as the days passed, our talks more often than not drifted to you and Talia, and more specifically, the bond you seem to share…"
"But, you don't approve of it, not really, right?" he couldn't very well assume anything else, deep down, with how she was constantly testing him, constantly trying her best to find valid reasons for disapproval. He knew Talia had been intended for an arranged marriage, and suspected her mother still somewhat desired that, much as she claimed not to; "I mean, you know I can't inherit titles or lands, and I can't imagine your own Nobility being very…happy, with the notion of a king's daughter being with, well, I'm really just…"
"The man she loves." Talia's mother cut him short, offering him a smile that was so genuine and warm it actually had him more confused than merely relieved; "Oh, I do realize you probably intended on saying something like 'a soldier' or 'a landless, cast-out nobleman', or some such nonsense. I also realize that I might have given off the…wrong signal, so to speak, these past few days."
"You…mean…I'm…not sure…"
"Aedan, you already know this, but Talia has been courted by a great many men, and known even more, though rarely belonging to the same group. Sons of Nobles, both high and low, have asked for her hand since she was old enough to understand the concept, and a few of their parents' even earlier than thát…" Whether the regret in her voice was as genuine as her smile, he did not know. He knew, however, that something about the last concept sent his innards twisting and coiling.
It wasn't even because the concept itself was foreign. He'd been engaged to Deliah Howe from when he was but seven years old, after all, but at least he'd met her…and thrown mud at her, for reasons he could not recall.
However, knowing Talia had been subjected to this, aware of it or not, made him want to…do things. He didn't even know what, only that he found an immense dislike for the idea, and wanted to make sure it was never brought up again.
"My point is, and it really should be rather obvious at this…point, I suppose, is that while there have been a great many men…and women, from what I recall, I never approved of a single one. At least, not of the suitors, and not enough that I desired any kind of confrontation with her on the subject. If she did not like them, there was no argument."
"But…so, you…You approve of me?" even though he was the one speaking the words, they still his heart plummeting into the depths of his stomach, and had his guts twisting and heating, a slight feeling of nausea that really didn't feel like nausea at all. It wasn't the same kind he'd felt when he'd first been alone and…intimate with Talia, but in truth closer to how he had felt when she had been taken from him.
"Much to the inevitable chagrin of my beloved husband, I seem to have arrived at that point, yes." There was a smirk on her lips, and never had he been this relieved to see a Dunmer smile; "Mind you, my approval is still not entirely settled, and just because you have mine, doesn't mean you have my husband's. Omluard is a man best described as stock-conservative, both by friends and opposition. He will not accept a suitor who does not know how to court a lady."
She…she couldn't actually be getting at that, could she?
"As such, since you clearly have my daughter's consent, I shall take it upon myself to instruct you in the proper ways of courting a lady of the Bretoni Nobility."
As you might have noticed, this is a lot shorter than usually.
Simply put, it's because I want to treat Harvestmere as sort of a series of episodes, if that makes sense. Kinda like Avatar once did, with the "'Name' alone" in Ba Sing Sei, only here it's a few episodes per chapter.
Point is, Harvestmere will be stretched over a few chapters, over a few days(story-wise) and kinda give the feeling of a well-earned break, rather than one or two regular chapters before being thrown right back out to the wolves.
Also...By Njord's Mittens! We're, like, ten reviews ahead of the word-count!
I know it's a pretty childish thing to get all gleeful about, but by Brage, this is a FIRST!
...now I really wish I'd done something like "B-be gentle with me, i-it's my first time surpassing the word-count." last time, when it actually started...Damn.
Oh well, can't change that now, so just pretend I did something extremely classy or witty and we'll call it even.
And yes, Brelyna FINALLY makes a move!
...which we won't see until next time if it actually worked.
