Chapter 7: Chapter seven

“Blessuð dagr, Smártungl!” 

A dozen Skutilsveinr stood outside the townhouse, their voices ringing out in a harmonious cry of greeting as I exited the building. 

Lifting a hand, I placed it over my heart with a gracious smile as I answered their greeting of blessed day with my own. “Blessuð dagr, my Skutilsveinr.” 

The pink eyed Skutilsveinr from the previous night approached me, coming to a stop directly in front of where I stood.

“With a willing heart, I kneel before Elayna, Smártungl of the Dökkálfar!” The pink eyed woman declared in Níumál, the words flowing off her tongue with ease.

As she spoke, the woman dropped to her knees, raising her clasped hands up over her head. I lifted my hands, placing them on either side of the woman’s. Our magic brushed against each other through our skin, as we familiarized ourselves with each other’s unique mægen.  

Pink eyes stared unblinking into mine, as the woman spoke her oath. “I, Nyx, give my sacred oath to devote my life to Smártungl Elayna. From this moment unto death, I devote myself to defend and honor her. To her I give my sacred oath and swear everlasting fealty! Let this magic seal my oath, with all who stand here as my witness!” 

The woman’s hands glowed faintly, as did my own as I spoke my reply. “I accept your oath, and return your loyalty with my own.” 

My reply was not as smooth as Nyx’s vow, the world's sounding stilted as her actions had taken me by surprise. I had not expected to receive her oath so soon. I thought it would take time to gain their confidence, and loyalty.

 Power flowed through our hands, twisting, and entwining as it sealed the oath between us, and when the waves of mægen dissipated, I withdrew my hands from hers. 

As Nyx stood, another took her place, and I turned my focus onto the new Skutilsveinr. This time it was a silver eyed Svartálfar who knelt before me, his inky black hair braided close to his skull in tight rows. Silver eyes met my blue, and a pair of full pink lips curled up into a sensual smile as the man made his oath. 

I did not return the man's flirtations. He was attractive, of that there was no dispute, but his magic left my skin feeling as though it was dipped into a bowl of sticky honey. Withdrawing my hands from the man, who declared his name as Eiríkr, I fought the urge to wipe them on the skirt of my dress. 

The feeling of Eiríkr's magic clung to my fingers, making me reluctant to touch the next man who came to kneel before me, but to my relief, the next sensation of magic to flow over my hands came in a refreshing wave that washed away the sticky presence of Eiríkr. 

Last to speak their vow was a tawny-haired Myrkálfar with warm, caramel colored eyes. His mægen was dark, and thick with a hint of danger thrumming beneath the surface. As I withdrew my hands from those of the Skutilsveinr named Didrik, I found myself watching the way his muscles tensed and flexed as he stood to rejoin the others. 

Turning my attention away from the Skutilsveinr, I looked towards the vehicle parked on the street, and the majestic forms of the Peryton milling around. 

The Peryton’s were chimeric creatures that combined the forequarters and head of a deer with the hindquarters of a large bird. They were magnificent creatures\ which the Dökkálfar race held in high regard, and whose visage appeared on the royal crest of Svartálfaheimr.

On average, a Peryton's body was about five feet long, and seven feet tall, with a wingspan of twenty five feet.  The male Peryton typically possessed dark shimmering green plumage, that resembled those of a male peacock, while females were a duller gray-green. Their maw was full of jagged fangs, and they had talons that were as sharp as razors. A beautiful pair of antlers adorned their heads, covered in a layer of short brown fur called antler velvet. 

When the velvet was scraped away, the antlers were jet black, and harder than steel. Even if you struck a Peryton’s antlers with a sword and all you got was a damaged blade. It looked like obsidian, but it was far stronger.

 It was for this reason Peryton antlers were used for many things in Svartálfaheimr, from the blades carried by our Skutilsveinr, to the antlered head pieces worn by the nobles. They were a valued resource, and one which could only be obtained once every ten cycles when the Peryton’s naturally shed their antlers, as hunting the Peryton was a crime punished with a painful death. 

My eyes scanned over the Peryton, not finding the one I sought. “Helma, where is Fachtna?” 

“My moon,” Helma sighed, her voice holding a note of sadness. “Fachtna was released into the royal herd, and can no longer be handled or ridden.” 

My shoulders slumped at the news. I should have expected he would not be here. Fachtna was an older Peryton who once served as one of the many my faðir rode. The beautiful stag became mine due to his passive nature, which made him a good mount for me to learn on.

An aggressive snarl brought my attention to a female Peryton who was nipping aggressively at one of the males who got a little close to her flank. Eyes lighting up, I smiled at the sight of the dominant doe. 

Letting out a sharp whistle, I called to the Peryton that belonged to my Víðarr. “Valgerðr.” 

The Peryton’s ears pricked up, her head twisting in my direction before she diligently trotted up onto the sidewalk towards where we stood. Pleased the Peryton hadn’t forgotten me, I held up a hand to stroke the doe’s soft muzzle. 

“Smártungl, we should board the car.” Sorcha prompted, her eyes weary as she skirted around the Peryton towards the car my aunt had used the day before. 

I sighed, gazing longingly up at the beautiful Peryton doe. I wanted to ride, not be cramped inside a stuffy car unable to feel the wind on my cheeks. 

“Another time, my moon.” Helma soothed, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “Your hair will become mussed if you ride today.” 

“Has another Peryton been selected for me?” 

“Yes. It is Fachtna, and Valgerðr’s offspring.” The Víðarr said as she guided me towards the car. “A beautiful doe who carries herself with the same dignity of her future rider.” 

“Flatterer,” I teased, glancing up at the woman with a smile. 

“Indeed.” 

I laughed, stepping up into the car where I took the seat opposite Mai, and Sorcha. The door to the car clicked shut, cutting off any sound from the outside, and I took a moment to look around at the spacious interior.

We were separated from the driver who sat in their own compartment at the front of the vehicle, with only a small window that could be used to converse with the driver if the need arose. 

Maitane, and Sorcha sat opposite me on a long bench seat, with enough room between us our legs wouldn’t touch even if fully extended. The curtains, and seat coverings were the color of a ripe plum, with delicate blue embroidery. They were the colors of my maternal house, which meant this was Lady Isabel’s personal vehicle, and no one sent from Svartálfaheimr. 

The car gave a jolt, and I heard the loud honking of angry drivers behind us as we sped off down the street. Pulling back the curtain, I saw we were navigating seamlessly through the traffic laden streets of New York, with the Skutilsveinr mounted on Peryton flying in formation above the car. 

Magic formed an unseen bubble around the vehicle, with the human driven cars on the street suddenly finding themselves seeking alternate routes in order to clear the roads for our travel. 

“It’s strange how similar, yet so different human cities are from those in Svartálfaheimr.” Sorcha said, her copper eyes gleaming with interest as she peered out at the city.  

“I’ve never been to any of the cities in Svartálfaheimr,” I admitted with a sigh. “I rarely left the palace, and when I did, it was only to visit the temple of Máni.” 

We didn’t have the chance to converse any further, as the car turned onto one of the special access roads in Central Park. Flying into the park wasn’t possible with the protections in place, so the Peryton’s were forced to land, and trot beside the car as we traveled through the park to Belvedere Castle. 

The car was forced to slow in order to match the speed of the Peryton. The taloned hindquarters of the deer weren’t really made for moving at high speed across the ground, instead they preferred to glide on the wind currents, darting down to snatch up prey.

As the car moved past the public areas of Belvedere Castle, I let the curtain fall back into place, and smoothed a hand over my skirts, doing a final check of my appearance. 

The parts of the castle which could be seen, and visited by humans did not even encompass half of the castle's true size. The castle was home to almost a hundred people who resided there full time, which was small considering the population of the city. This was in part due to Lord Fergus being very selective about who he allowed to reside within the castle, and also the low number of members in the New York enclave. Over the last several years, more and more people left New York to join other enclaves, driven away by the lord’s inability to offer them the support, and protection other stronger enclaves could.

Magic flowed over us as the carriage entered the protections of the enclave, and soon we came to a stop. Mai slid out of her seat opposite me, followed by Sorcha, and the two disembarked the car first. 

The sun felt blinding when compared to the dimly lit car, and I fought the urge to squint my eyes as I stepped out with aid from Helma. 

A large crowd gathered before the stone building that housed the enclave, and at the front of the group was Lady Isabel, and Lord Fergus along with a well dressed man who I presumed was Ard Tiarna Cináed. 

The Seelie fae lord was dressed in layers of green and gold; a pale green tunic with paned sleeves, pants that were only half a shade darker, and a green coat embodied with gold foliage. The clothing matched his green hair, which fell in short curls to just below his ears, and highlighted a sharp, angular jawline. 

 Next to his father, Lord Fergus’s visage was akin to a poorly made forgery of a beautiful work of art. It was clear the enclave’s lord had attempted to dress in a manner that matched his father, but it only highlighted his inferior appearance. The half human Lord Fergus could never compare the breathtaking appearance of an Aos sí, no matter how he dressed.

Loud murmurs filled the air as people began whispering amongst themselves, and the Ard Tiarna’s posture grew stiff in response. Displeasure radiated from him as he gave a side-eyed glare in the direction of his son, before he split off from the group to stride elegantly towards me.

The Ard Tiarna performed a courtly bow, speaking the traditional Álfar greeting as he did so. “Blessuð dagr, Smártungl. On behalf of his majesty High King Locryn of the Seelie court, I bid you welcome.” 

I tilted my head, keeping an impassive expression on my face as I looked towards the sky. “Is it?” 

The Ard Tiarna appeared taken aback by my words as his gaze followed mine upward, his brows creasing as he saw only clear sky. A rarity for New York, and not something that was a natural occurrence.  

“Ah.” Understanding dawned upon, and Ard Tiarna Cináed inclined his head. “Forgive my interference, I knew not your preference in weather.” 

“I am Dökkálfar, and Unseelie, tis no hardship to determine my comfort is not beneath the sun's gaze.” As the words left my lips, I felt the searing mægen of the summer blessed Aos sí withdraw from the surrounding area, and the skies became cloudy once more.  

Ard Tiarna Cináed's lips twisted into a wry smile. “Dökkálfar, Unseelie, and Seelie.” 

I laughed, a clear feminine sound that resulted from many hours of practice. “Quite right, my lord, quite right.” The words were soft, and filled with unspoken meaning as I met the lord's eyes. “Shall we?” 

I walked towards the group of onlookers, admiring the lord who walked half a step behind me from the corner of my eye. He truly was a skillful courtier. Being able to direct, without moving ahead of a higher ranked noble was not an easy skill to learn. His stride matched mine perfectly, and he moved with an elegance that came only with years of practice. 

The lord’s chin lifted slightly as we approached Lord Fergus and Lady Isabel, subtly indicating that we would be continuing forward without stopping, or we would have if the foolish lordling did not block our path. 

Lord Fergus’s expression contained a myriad of emotions, with disbelief, and anger as the forerunners. The enclave’s lord opened his mouth to speak, but Ard Tiarna Cináed spoke first, cutting off anything he may have said.

“Smártungl, this is Fergus, a descendant of my house, and lord of this enclave.” 

Ah, so we were pretending I had not spent the last several years living here? Very well. “Tis gracious of you, Fergus, to allow our temporary residence in your holding.” 

Lord Fergus’s nostrils flared as a red flush crept up his neck, and face. Nothing infuriated the man more than someone leaving off his title, but there was little he could do about it. As a higher ranked noble, I wasn’t required to use any formalities with him if I didn’t wish to. 

Showing his skill as courtier, Ard Tiarna Cináed navigated us around Fergus and into the enclave, engaging me with conversation any time it appeared the enclave’s lord attempted to speak. 

As we arrived at the guest rooms, it became clear that Ard Tiarna Cináed had not previously seen the room, or been the one to assign it to me. The Aos sí lord’s expression when he looked around the room was quite amusing, as was his explanation that the room was only a temporary place to store my possessions until my proper rooms were finished being prepared. 

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The Ard Tiarna quickly led us away, directing me to a room where Lord Fergus typically held his private soirées. Lord Cináed’s frustration continued to grow as we settled onto lounges, and instead of a Çaydanlık, a basic teapot was brought out. 

 The Dökkálfar were a race who held high regard for tradition, and tea was a very important aspect of their daily lives. One key element to Dökkálfar tea culture was the Çaydanlık, a special kind of tea pot with two chambers, that looked akin to two teapots stacked one on top of the other. It sat on three stubby legs, with a saucer beneath that held a  fire crystal to heat the water in the lower chamber. 

The boiling water in the lower section would warm the upper chamber, steaming the leaves slowly, coaxing the true flavor and beautiful amber color out of the tea without scorching it. After the needed time had passed, the host would pour some of the hot water into the upper pot, steeping the tea leaves. The remaining water would later be used to dilute the bitterness of the tea, allowing for guests to adjust their cup to suit their personal taste. 

The Dökkálfar also paid close attention to the type of tea served, which could be determined by three things; time, season, and company. It is crucial that a host do not serve the improper tea, as it could impart the wrong meaning to the guest. 

The tea served was Alsvartr te, a tea similar to the Assam tea drunk in the human realm. It was a tea leaf commonly served in many households as it was a neutral tea that could be served during first meetings, or with guests you have no close ties to. The tea itself was not an issue, and a good choice for such a meeting, however I could already tell it had been over steeped from the dark color. 

For a brief moment, I felt tempted to forgo the customary first sip. When served tea, it was crucial that a guest first taste the proffered cup before adjusting it to suit their preferences. Changing the tea’s taste with additives before the first tasting was deemed highly insulting to the host. 

Taking a tentative first sip, I found myself struggling to keep my expression impassive at the taste of bitter, and burnt tea. Hiding my expression of distaste behind the cup I held, I scanned the offered additives, searching for something that would make the tea more palatable. 

After a moment of thought, I settled on adding a teaspoon of honey to my cup. The addition of honey to the tea conveyed the intent of friendship with the host, and willing to work alongside them, though when mixed in alongside other additives it indicated different meanings. 

 Ard Tiarna Cináed followed my lead, adding his own teaspoon of honey. The next person to adjust their tea should have been Lady Isabel, as the next highest in rank, however Lord Fergus’s hand stretched out, picking up a silver spoon from the tea tray. 

Through narrowed eyes, I watched as he reached for the bowl containing a light blue powder. Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath from Sorcha, who stood beside Mai playing the role of attendant. 

“Fergus,” Ard Tiarna Cináed’s voice was cold, and steely as he spoke his son's name, that one word conveying a chilly warning to cease his current action. 

Fool that he was, Lord Fergus continued to scoop out a heaped spoonful of powdered Eldaas root, adding it to his tea.

I smiled, watching closely as the foolish lord raised his cup, waiting for him to choke on the tea. When adding Eldaas, it was best to do so in moderation, as it had a peppery taste with a pungent and spicy aroma. 

Eldaas was often used to counteract nausea and to counteract hangovers. It was typically served during a meal that is partaken after an event where there had been a high consumption of alcohol. If added to tea during a hosted event that did not follow a night of high alcohol intake, it conveyed that the drinker found their current company sickening or distasteful.  

Lord Fergus coughed, and spluttered, his face becoming flushed as he smacked a hand to his chest. The woman who served the tea quickly rushed to his side, offering him the saucer of milk. Yet another display of poor etiquette. 

When serving tea, milk is rarely offered as it is an insult to the brew. Milk masked the flavor of the natural tea leaves, and it was a great insult to add it in the company of others. Adding milk was indicative that they found the tea, and their present company displeasing. 

Didn’t he often brag about his time spent in Múspellsheimr being taught by the finest Aos sí tutors? Were these the manner’s taught by the Seelie? Reluctantly, I kept those thoughts to myself as we waited for Lord Fergus to recover his composure.

After the initial poor display on the behalf of Lord Fergus, the conversation flowed smoothly with the expected pleasantries, and flattery from the Ard Tiarna. However, it did not take long before it shifted to other matters, such as the unofficial coming of age celebration to be held at the enclave. Understandably, Lord Fergus was doing his best to not so politely hint that I should hold the event elsewhere. 

After a less than subtle remark about how humans liked to decorate their walls with taxidermy stag heads, and how he wouldn’t mind a few himself, I decided it was time Cináed learned just how ill-managed his holding was under the care of his son. 

“Lord Fergus, might I enquire if your guardians are yet to have any luck catching the Boogie that has been preying on human children?” I asked, tilting my head quizzically. “The Skutilsveinr are skilled hunters, and would be happy to lend aid.” 

The lord’s face turned a brilliant shade of puce, his fingers clenched tightly on the cup he held. “We are in no need of youraid.” 

“Oh? What about the Näcken in the Hudson, or the Fir Darrig in the subway?” I asked with feigned innocence. “The Harpies infesting the parks would make for some excellent target practice.” 

Ard Tiarna Cináed’s expression grew stoic as I continued to list the dozens of creatures which resided within the city unchecked. Most of the more intelligent beings who used New York as a hiding place would have already moved on with the arrival of the Dökkálfar, and Aos sí, but the lesser beings were still an issue which needed to be resolved. 

Lord Fergus’s fist slammed against the tea table with a loud thud. Red-faced he lunged out of his seat, his mouth open, undoubtedly ready to spew forth a tirade of insults, but before he could get a single word out, two Seelie guards appeared to drag him out of the room. 

The green-haired Aos sí watched his son be dragged out of the room, a dark glint in his eye, and for a moment, I wondered if he was contemplating filicide as he glowered at the door the guards left through.

“Smártungl,” The Ard Tiarna sighed, his eyes meeting mine. “You have borne witness to a poor display of manners, for this you have my humblest apologies.”  

“It is nothing I did not expect.” I informed him with a wry smile. “It gladdens me to see he is not a reflection of his kin.” 

The lord's jaw flexed, but aside from that minute response, there was no other indication of his anger over what had occurred. His son had placed him in a rather difficult position, and I was curious as to what approach he would take regarding Fergus. 

Ard Tiarna Cináed stared down into his cup, which remained full. “Smártungl, will you permit me a momentary departure?” 

Lifting my cup, I took a sip of the tepid contents, taking my time before giving the lord an answer. “You may depart, let us meet again when tis time for the evening meal.” 

Without giving a response, the Ard Tiarna set down his tea cup, leaving the room with a determined stride. After a moment the brunette woman who served the tea rushed after him, tossing a fearful glance over her shoulder as she left the room. 

Lady Isabel’s cup hit the table with a clatter, her lips forming a moue of distaste. “I think I shall be ill.” 

“Mayhap you should have some Eldaas,” I suggested, placing down my own cup. 

Behind us, Sorcha burst into giggles, and my aunt’s lips twitched. Smoothing a hand over the skirt of her dress, Lady Isabel rose from the lounge we shared with a sigh. “Let us depart this dreary room, niece.” 

“And go to the even worse one that has been offered as my accommodation?” I asked teasingly, getting a scornful look in reply. 

“My moon, there are Skutilsveinr who are yet to swear their oaths.” Helma interjected before Lady Isabel could respond to my jest. 

Three Skutilsveinr awaited us in the hall, and as I exited the room they formed a triangle surrounding me. In the center of the formation Helma stood directly behind my right shoulder, with Lady Isabel half a step behind me to the left. 

As attendants, Mai, and Sorcha walked behind the rear guard so they did not interfere with the Skutilsveinr’s formation. If the attendants were too close, they could impede the barrier spell the Skutilsveinr maintained around me. Lady Isabel’s rank, and relation to me permitted her to walk within the barrier as a sign of trust, but it was an honor she would only be granted in a place such as this. Were we at court, only my spouse or concubines would be given a place under the protection of my Skutilsveinr.  

Whilst I could have summoned the Skutilsveinr to my side in order to give their vows, I felt confined within the walls of the enclave, and was grateful for the excuse to go outside. The halls of the enclave felt cramped, with very few windows, and zero skylights. 

In Svartálfaheimr, the buildings were spacious, with large windows, and open areas. Our homes were elegant, and graceful, with curved gables and strong, pointed steeples. The ceilings and rooftops stretched proudly up toward the moon, with skylights welcoming its silver light into our lives. During the days, those skylights would be covered up, protecting us from the harsh sun. 

We found the Skutilsveinr in the outside training arena, conversing with a handful of guards who accompanied the Ard Tiarna. On the outskirts of the arena, several guardians milled about, keeping a cautious eye on the Dökkálfar knights. 

“Ellie.” 

My steps faltered at the sound of someone calling my false name, but I recovered quickly, ignoring the voice in favor of approaching Nyx, the pink eyed Stallari of my Skutilsveinr. 

“Ellie, please, I just want to- urk.” A loud thud, followed by a cry of pain, indicated one of the Skutilsveinr had intercepted Lucas, and I felt a pang of pity for the guardian which I quickly shoved aside. There was nothing between Lucas, and I; not anymore at least. 

 Now that I was back under the eyes of the court, I needed to have more care when selecting my lovers, and potential concubines. 

“Lucas!” A feminine cry pierced the air, announcing the arrival of Selina. “You beasts! How dare you touch a guardian of the enclave.” 

I continued walking, ignoring the girl's shouts. Neither of them were worth my time. 

“Ellie, you bitch!” Selina yelled, her words causing the group of Skutilsveinr to start reaching for their weapons. 

I held up a hand, gesturing for them to cease their actions. No need for them to sully their blades over such childish insults.

“Friends of yours niece?” Isabel asked, a mix of anger, and amusement coloring her tone. 

“I briefly indulged my needs with him, and he decided to end our indulgence to be with her when it became clear that I would not provide the level of commitment he desired.” I said, keeping my face impassive. I wasn’t hurt by it, he meant nothing to me, nothing. “This era’s humans tend to look down upon concubinage, and polyamorous relations.” 

Selina’s shouted insult soon fell silent, and I risked a brief glance over my shoulder to see the pair being dragged away from the training area by Guardian Monroe. 

“Smártungl,” Nyx greeted as she gave a half bow. 

“Stallari Nyx, how are the Skutilsveinr settling in? Any issues?” 

“None of note, Smártungl.” 

I gave a polite smile, my eyes drifting to the group behind her. “My Víðarr informs me there are some who wish to make an oath of fealty.” 

Nyx stepped to the side, and gave a sharp command in Níumál, ordering forward those who were left to give their oaths. One by one, the Skutilsveinr knelt before me, offering their clasped hands as they spoke the oath of fealty which would bind them to my hirð. 

Breaking such an oath would see their mægen rebel against them, and in extreme circumstances even result in their deaths. I had once witnessed a Skutilsveinr die in the middle of a feast, mere moments after the knight tainted his sworn lord's meal with a flesh-rotting poison. The oaths did not stop the act, or thought of betrayal, however once broken, the consequences were unavoidable. 

The next hour was spent conversing with the Skutilsveinr, learning of their origins, and battle merits. Most surprising was Nyx, who I learned had been a Kertilsveinr in my palace before the night my móðir died. 

Nyx, along with six other squires, and three Skutilsveinr were the only survivors of that night, as they had been away from the palace participating in a hunt. The day prior to the attack, I expressed a desire for a particular dish on my dinner menu, and when the chefs informed me it was not possible due to a lack of jackalope meat, I threw a tantrum, ordering a hunting party be formed to hunt the horned rabbits. That spoiled, and childish act saved those ten lives. 

That Nyx had risen from Kertilsveinr, to not only a Skutilsveinr, but the Stallari of a regiment, indicated she was a warrior of great skill. 

As Nyx continued speaking, I learned the Skutilsveinr currently protecting me were not a full regiment, but a split one, with a mix of Skjöldr, and Riddari, as it was believed they would be escorting me home, not remaining in Manna-heim. 

Between the four regiments assigned to serve me, I had a Skjöldr, which was a regiment of inner knights who directly protected their lord. Two Skjald-borg, outer knights that guarded the exterior palace, and one Riddari with mounted Skutilsveinr to patrol the skies.  

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