“Elves and Fantasy” is a new corner on my blog with brand new stories. These stories are written in the form of diaries and letters that lean towards fantasy fiction. This short story from the collection talks about an elven woman in love with someone his father considers to be of an inferior race. Read the first part of the story here. Be sure to subscribe to be notified when the next story drops.
I use the help of AI for punctuation (I do change some things) and the help of Grammarly to do my own edits, while they don’t replace editors I do have to make do with free-to-use tools currently.
Short Story – Rendezvous pt. II (Margot) – Fantasy Fiction
I cannot keep my wits about me. Rorik has betrayed me and left me to fend for myself. There is nothing left for me to do than crawl back to my castle like a wounded hound with my tail between my legs. Oh, Gods, what have I done to you that you punish me so? Is that my pay for the monthly tributes of blood and tears? Is this my lot, to suffer in my state of a love that stung?
The rendezvous was nothing but pleasurable: his kisses had grown colder than the December rain, his hands coarser than the fur of a boar, and his eyes were void of love.
And as if that was not enough to incapacitate me, rumours of my adultery are spreading like wildfire. My father has sworn to keep me hidden behind the curtains, to shield me from the prying, judging eyes of the passers-by.
I cannot stay here any longer; my unborn child has grown restless, and my wits are barely with me. I haven’t seen the faces of anyone but my servant for months, and my father has contacted the speaker of the will about my condition. To atone for my sins, I have to marry one of faith, someone who respects the ways of the true elves.
I thought the suitors would avoid me like the plague if I fell with a child of dwarven blood, but my father has put out a reward for a man who weds me. Perhaps they are correct, perhaps I did anger the Three Gods, and that is why I ought to marry a man after my father’s treasure.
Today, I am to dress in my best silken robes. Today, I am to meet the future husband and father of my unborn child. And today, I ought to be on my best behaviour if I want to have any hope for a future other than being shunned from my community like a heretic.
This man will be my deliverance from sin. This man will bring me closer to the Gods that I have betrayed.
Out of all the men in the wide world, I am to marry Leoric the Conjurer.
I am more than devastated and more than disgusted that this man, this necromancer, this vile sorcerer, is considered to be a man of faith.
The man I thought to be my king, my father, has washed his hands from the stains of an adulterous daughter. I know what they gossip about me on the streets; I know they must have branded me as a harlot.
How could any man with his wits about him marry a woman that carries another man’s child? No, this marriage is a deal, this marriage is a trade. Gold is the compensation for wedding me.
Why would Leoric come back after the things I said to him the last time? Why else would he consider this?