“Put this on,” Tyr offered Alex a band to wear over her forehead, tied back behind her head to obscure her ears. The 'gift' he'd given her had borne some unexpected changes to her appearance. Her sultry eyes were brighter, more defined. Skin clearer, lips fuller, ever so slightly, come to the point where she eclipsed all other human women in beauty – and she'd already been a handsome one. It had become a bit of a problem for him lately, resisting the urge to put hands on her at all times of the day. With his fleeing frigidity came complexities, urges that were at times difficult to resist.
The sharper, more defined features were easily explainable, and sometimes powerful mages saw changes in the eyes that made them a bit brighter if not luminescent. But the ears... They had become subtly tapered at the helix. It might have been no big deal, she could wear her hair down, after all, but he wanted to be careful given those they were about to meet with. She obeyed wordlessly, her face preternaturally still. Thankfully it wasn't a breaking of the mind, but rather practiced composure, her poker face.
Otherwise, she was completely fine, Tyr had tried to break her, 'sort of'. And he had failed, testament to her immense power and talent both, bringing about the fact that he would not repeat the ritual. From Tyr's perspective, he had done an objectively evil thing, but from Alexis' perspective, he had given her a chance to skip a decade if not more of effort.
He'd had fears, doing that to her. Tyr had dominated her soul, devouring her through physical contact and torturing her. Tinkering with her insides and attempting to bring her to a point of being laden with child. She'd cracked before buckling, and it hadn't worked, and now he was both worried and intrigued that he had created another monster.
But he'd been a bit wrong in his supposition besides. What he'd done, is to do the same as the blood had, only quicker, even more intense a transformation. Even being near him, the pressure of his spira would gradually stimulate another until they became more than what they were, even non-human races were not immune to this passive effect, and he wasn't sure how it worked. Technically, it should be possible for any primus to possess this ability, making a nephilim of another. And that might explain why the primus' rarely kept consistent contact with any one person, why they lived and slept alone, ate alone most times, even away from their own children.
Tyr lacked the control necessary to make the process more efficient, and thus it was crude. Sex, to be blunt, was a sacred connection between two people – and it allowed him a way into her that went beyond the physical. It was more than just 'sex', such a crude word, more than just making love for the sake of physical pleasure, or instinct. To him, it was ritual beyond religion, and it had worked. He'd noticed it first with Jura, only he hadn't properly realized it at the time, Alex came later and she'd already been awakened by that point.
But Sigi, when he'd laid with her, had experienced an awakening point that went beyond common sense. She'd trained a great deal, experienced things but never quite managed to reach the right catalyst, he was that catalyst now. Physical contact brought it to fruition and forced the process to occur. With that being said, no, he would not bandy about having intercourse with everyone around him. He'd done a foul, evil thing, and the gods only knew why it had all turned out right in the end. There was always the chance that with a weaker willed person it might have even killed them, hindsight was 20/20 and he felt almost thankful to gods he did not worshiped that it had not.
He'd obeyed the rule of twelve in the event that it might help it work better, and whether it had or not was a mystery overall. Twelve, the sacred number of the high ones. But she was stronger now, much stronger, that was a fact – and having already been extremely talented to begin with it was a great boon to his burgeoning forces. Tyr had been irresponsible, believing that he'd nearly killed her, until she'd turned out to be so strong of spirit that there was never a risk of that to begin with. Now that they were bonded irrevocably, he'd lose that test of will and she would be the master. Initially, he'd planned to mentally dominate her in a manner of speaking, but she had turned that around and conquered him instead. Soul bond, the same way he'd done with Astrid – but they were not equals. Alex was in control of him, in a battle of wills she could force him to grab a knife and stick it in his eye. If she said jump, he'd do so.
Something that could only be good. He needed restraining, in his rampant desire for achieving victory he was losing yet more of his humanity. Or might be, some others had claimed this, he wasn't sure, but he trusted Alex more than perhaps anyone.
“Who did you say we were meeting? You are... brooding, again, and I do not like it.” Alex asked, and he hadn't. It should be obvious though, Saorsa had refused to send aid immediately, though with some regret – they were constantly under pressure at the border and had no means by which to move an army north through Varia. The dwarves hadn't answered, which made sense. They were a proud race that dwelt in clans and conclaves, most of which had probably laughed it off, they had always been friends to man but never participated in their internal wars, except by industry. Anu had yet to reply, though Tyr knew it would be a resounding 'no' as well.
The other 'Tyr's' hadn't been standing idle while he'd been away, and remained busy with their work. Ever since they'd emerged from the labyrinth, in the disputed valley at Haran's southern border, they'd been about some business on all of their behalfs.
Everything was going to plan, and some had deigned to answer where others had not. The trio facing the pair as they walked through the doors of the meeting chamber, however, were altogether unexpected. And they'd come quick, appearing less than a day after a confirmation that the missive had reached their border. Humans were not allowed to cross freely into Aelas, with Leo leaving it nailed to a tree and throwing rocks across the border until they shown up. Unsure if these people even actually existed, Tyr thought it was worth a shot – he'd needed someone in Haran in any case. To watch, he did not trust his father not to do something that might ruin his plans, but Jartor hadn't. Leo would remain in the central region for now and ensure Baldur, Tyr's brother, was safe. All of the Tyr's shared one perhaps unsurprising factor, they all cherished younglings, and held great disdain for most adults.
To spy on Jartor as well, of course, the primus who'd known what his son was up to and casually invited Leo inside... Of course...
There was something going on that was so wrong. Everything was wrong, Tyr couldn't put a finger on it. Didn't need to though, all that mattered was that his stick was bigger and pointier than everyone else's, and so he faced this foreign delegation with a calm gaze.
Elves. Not seen by man with any commonality in generation. Elves actually existed.
Neither side bowed or offered any of the formality expected of a diplomatic meeting, merely content to observe one another, in a stand off. Two of the figures opposite the long table were staring back at Tyr, while the third – a slender female – leaned on the eave of the window. Staring outside, seemingly unbothered by the arrival of the man who'd called them here.
“Things have changed here... So much, and in such a short time.” She commented wistfully, after a tense thirty seconds of... Well, Tyr didn't really know what that was, he was a shit negotiator and didn't have a lick of talent for diplomacy in him. It was customary for the visitors to be announced first our of respect, but they didn't seem to have brought a herald along. The woman speaking had a nice voice, but Tyr couldn't make much of her face at that angle, the one thing that he noticed though...
“You elves are taller than I expected...” He said. The two males stood dead even with him in height, about six foot six inches. Marking them as giants walking amidst children in most human kingdoms. What he didn't say was that they weren't as pretty as he'd expected. Elves of legend were supposed to be lithe, forest loving, athletic and fair beyond mortal ken. Effeminate and elegant from head to toe. That wasn't to say those present were ugly by any means, they were handsome and clean, but the men were wide, bulky, built like strongmen.
With sturdy rounded shoulders, tanned and hairless arms, neatly trimmed beards framing their jaws. If not for the ears, he'd thought he'd been tricked, tapered about an inch and a half beyond the human standard. Their eyes, too, they were uniquely colored. Both elves visible were heterochromatic. That was to say that their iris' were unique in shade from left to right.
One of them had an arm cast of metal that gleamed and reflected everything around it like liquid mercury. What he'd expected out of the trio were effeminate men, and he'd gotten two lumberjacking giants positively rippling with muscle. The woman was a bit shorter, quite obviously younger, yet still standing taller than Sigi did. While more possessive of a swimmer's build, she was also quite muscular. With a snugly fit leather jumpsuit of sorts open at the back to reveal four equidistant circles of metal running down her spine. Like someone had hammered nails into her vertebrae, each one of them the size of a sovereign. About an inch and a half or so in diameter, round nubs of gunmetal gray pulsing with a sort of mana he didn't recognize through any of his senses.
“The humans are so creative.” She pointedly ignored Tyr, continuing on. “Wasteful, though. I see you dis-incorporate your waste with darkness magic instead of composting it. That was disappointing, not so long ago this land was a small commune of farmers who properly cared for the land. Their ingenuity does them credit, but I think their boundless curiosity will one day be their downfall. I do envy them, though, humans are so incredibly talented at so many things – just a bit inconsiderate at times.”
“Their?” Alex spoke, “You say that, but we are humans too.”
“No you're not.” The elf woman said, finally turning to reveal her own heterochromatic eyes, though one was shifting in shade like an aurora instead of remaining stable like the males did. She was clad in leather armor of scale that seemed to glisten and glitter in the morning light come through the windows. If it hadn't been of such a clear form and shape, Tyr would have thought her wearing liquid. Her hair was bound up in a high tail, with two loose braids falling to either side of her face.
At this distance he could feel the vitality burning in her, the perfectly straight back and the ability to totally shut down any attempt to look any deeper. Immunity to his empathic connection with others, which was something worth complimenting. Her biceps were bare and the armor was open at her abdomen, revealing washboard abs. Not very utilitarian, but maybe they liked to stay cool and didn't need the extra insulation...?
Tyr thought she was quite striking in appearance. More in line with his expectations compared to the two body builders who'd come with her, but her chest was relatively flat which came as a bit of a disappointment. Something she seemed to note, raising an eyebrow at him and 'expanding' said bosom, before bringing it back closer to her chest. Inflating them through active effort, the same way Tyr could change his own body, albeit less clumsily.
A flash of mischief fluttered in her eyes, she was judging his reaction. Whatever she got out of that odd show, she seemed relatively satisfied, if not abashedly perturbed by his piercing gaze right at her breasts. Tyr was, as always, still a man – and a bold one at that, or perhaps just a massive pervert. One who was well aware that Alex was resisting the urge to punch him in the back of the neck. Usually diplomatic negotiations didn't begin with a man staring at the breasts of a woman, that was typically frowned upon in most cultures and societies.
“The Alfen clades are as diverse as you humans are. More so, I'd say. We are far different than our southern neighbors. And it is Alf, or Alfen, not Elf. Elves are a figment of your over active imaginations.”
“How long do you live?” Tyr asked.
“That depends,” She shrugged, “You can't put a number on our lifespan, but we live a very long time. Some choose to go willingly when it gets too tiresome, I've not known an alf to age and die of natural causes – it's always something else.”
“I see. So, you're extremely beautiful--” Tyr began.
“You think I'm beautiful?” The woman raised an eyebrow with a wry chuckle coming from one of her otherwise silent male companions. “As in sexually attractive, you wish to breed me?”
What the...?
“I can't have a son with you,” Tyr shook his head, taking the 'joke' all in stride, “But in the event that I didn't have obligations to my wives, who make you look like an ugly duckling in comparison, sure. I'd put you down right here and right now. I am very romantic like that.”
“You are very brash is what you are,” She laughed aloud, not offended in the slightest, “But please, do continue with these compliments, I like them.”
“Beautiful, supreme with magic, humanoid, pointy eared, superior in consideration of other races, and let me guess – you have a strong and refined warrior tradition?” Tyr, still, found it all a bit... boring? Maybe?
“That is subjective,” She shrugged, “What does it mean to be strong, or refined? But you're wrong about us, we are no better than any other race. I have met so many, of so many peoples, and I have enjoyed all of them – they are all worth treasuring, of their own talents both latent and not. Superior in what way, then? Do I believe we are better, objectively, than mankind, or any other? No. Your kindred race is wonderful, and I look very highly on your artisans, a long life can lead to dullness and a lack of creativity. Your shorter comparative lifespans and faster breeding cycle are a source of power for you. To build and grow so fast, and so I love your humans.”
“I see,” Tyr coughed. Regardless of what she'd said, he couldn't help but see them as 'elves'. Alf, elf, he was in awe at the lack of creativity present in the cosmos.
In any event...
“We thank you for coming, whatever the case, I am very pleased to finally meet the neighbors of my homeland.” Tyr nodded in acceptance of the fact that he'd been ignorant again. He'd had many of those same conversation with Hogan after learning that not all dwarves were bearded blacksmiths living in mountains. The largest dwarven clan in the known world lived in the desert on nomadic constructs of wood and metal, plying the vast sandy stretches for water and other valuables to trade, wielding weapons and tools carved from organic living bone that they 'sung' into being. Or so that same Hogan had claimed. “I'm not one for a long dialogue, so I'll simply ask what you want in exchange for your aid?”
“This is good,” The male on the left nodded, speaking for the first time. “We find that humans talk far too much, and say too little, with all being said. I am Harkon, this is Remus.” He jerked his thumb toward the man on the right. “And she is Aram.” He didn't indicate the woman through body language, but it was pretty obvious.
That's all...? Tyr expected a surname at the very least. Maybe their relative positions among their people, at least. “Are you diplomats?” He asked, starting small. Full of questions about their people, the few books regarding elves had clearly been written by lunatics or charlatans. They weren't arrogant, haughty riddle speakers. Neither did they have wings, stand four feet tall, or refuse to kill animals. Aram was dressed in leather that had clearly come from some beast, and the two men were wearing shaped metal breastplates visible beneath their robes. Tight fitting, and he could see the pattern of swirling runes that decorated their surface. The more surprising thing was that he didn't sense any mana from them. As in none, which was rarer than rare among living creatures, and elves were above all supposed to be incredible sorcerers, every scholar agreed on that one single point. That was a question he planned to ask, but they answered it first without it being spoken.
“All Alfen,” Harkon corrected with a forgiving chuckle. They didn't seem to be very arrogant and prone to staring down their noses, either. By all appearances the guy looked happy to be here, very relaxed and eager to be given the chance to interact with mankind. “Are born with what we call 'the eye'. We do have mages as you do, but they are very rare among my people. Instead the gates in our ajna, the brain – grants us various capabilities. The most common is the ability to influence mana so long as we are able to perceive it, which is most always. All alfen can see mana and spira alike, and we are born with a vestigial third eye that facilitates this. The powers our eyes are able to give us are as diverse as all the blades of grass in the world. All through the spira rather than mana, as before your kind came to this land mana was a complete unknown. Only in the last few centuries were any of our kind able to wield it directly at all. As far as I know, at least, and I am no sage or possessive of all knowledge.”
Hence why human mages in the past attempting to breach the border might have perceived alfen to be an incredibly potent species of sorcerers, their spells completely useless again a race that could universally make use of spira. That didn't make them invincible, but it would look that way in an age where conventional magic was the strongest known force in the world. If finely tuned, spira could easily grab hold of a spell and send it back at the casting mage, which would've terrified a great many people. Counter and reversal spells were possible but rarely used in the modern era, it would've been like using a bucket to catch and arrow and take the time to string and shoot it back at the archer who'd fired it. It was similarly likely that they could read his mind, considering how fast he'd gotten to the root of the issue, answering a question Tyr hadn't thought to ask, and elaborating beyond it.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“You're awfully open with your information, I've heard you were secretive even by those who have made real contact with your people. Though, at the time, I thought they were lying to me. I guess they weren't.” Tyr asked. “Why reveal all of this?”
Harkon shook his head. “I cannot read your mind but I can read your mate's. In a manner of speaking, that is. Spira and mana both are ways your emotions might be reflected, and through your reaction toward key words or concepts I can guess at what you're going to ask. It does make your people uncomfortable at times, but this is our eternal reality, there is no lie among my people because of this. As for our openness in communication, I'll answer two questions at once. We alfen rarely keep secrets, and we do not hate nor revile humanity. We closed our borders by request of others and continue to keep it so, and we do not kill those who trespass regardless of myth and superstition. We simply remove them from the boundary, but we have always been an open book for those who are willing to see with their own eyes and hear with their own ears.”
“Why?” Tyr asked.
“Do you want the real answer...?” Remus, the other male, seemed a dour and perpetually exhausted looking man, but his dual colored eyes betrayed no superiority either. “Or the convenient one?”
“Alfen are a very passionate people. It's not so consistent, we're individuals, but there are complications in our relationship to mankind.” Harkon answered before Tyr could. “Those of our kind who choose to live as females are known to kill human men who breed with us. Our rituals of the carnal are much different than yours. It is few and far between that can control the way our spira influences a relatively malleable race like your lesser kin, and it can drive easily drive them mad, or make them incredibly ill should we make physical contact. For example, our saliva and the oils produced on our skin are dual parts stimulant and hallucinogen that can be deadly with enough contact.”
“Even our breath.” Remus added. “That is why we breathe through our skin in the presence of lesser nim. When reacting with their own inborn enzymes it catalyzes into a substance known as 3,4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine. We cannot stop this.”
“Interesting...” Tyr coughed. “Want to shake hands?”
“...”
“...What?”
And once again they'd pull the other thoughts out of his head. Or Alex's, as was the case. In the same way that he could see the spirits of men if he looked close enough.
“Ah, yes.” Aram chuckled. “We say that humans talk far too much, and it is true – they say little of anything at all despite all the movements of their mouths and lips. You are right, but speaking is not inherently foreign to us. We share so much in our lifetimes, but we believe it should mean something. That is the difference, I'd say. I do not consider our words to be inane babbling, as you're thinking in the moment.”
Alex looked uncomfortable with that, blushing but saying no more. Tyr allowed his spira to serve as a shield around her untrained mind, rejecting the influence of their eyes. His was as calm as a still lake, but Alex was unaccustomed to its use, but had enough of it to wield it should she gain the ability. This made the one called Remus furrow his brows, though he didn't object. Privacy was alien to alfen, but they were an elder race that lived many centuries on average. They knew better than to force their beliefs on the others, surprisingly enough.
Not lesser, they peered into Tyr and he peered back into them, these alfen did not consider themselves superior. They were an open book, sharing with him anything he asked with the utmost sincerity, though not by mouth. It made sense why they avoided humans, an untrained mind of their own kind would invade a man's mind with alien sensations. Coupled with the nuance of their narcotic equivalent body, it would've made for a rather interesting trip before throwing their hearts into cardiac arrest.
But there was something else, he knew that wasn't the only reason.
“So honest a race that the primus' themselves asked you to avoid fraternizing with humans...?” Tyr raised an eyebrow, almost laughing at it, but it wasn't a shock. These alfen were honest, sincere, and forthright, but they were not benevolent. If a human asked them for knowledge, and there was no bond or promise to prevent them from passing it on, they might. Just by thinking it, a human might see it. Weapons, mostly, alfen seemed to enjoy the concept of war making quite a bit. Something he hadn't expected. They were noble, in their way, not bloodthirsty – but they certainly weren't very peaceful.
“Alright, back to business,” Aram smirked, a 'yes' in her head but again refusing to answer the question, probing his spira with her own and finding him an impressive distraction. A wrestling match of sorts while the three wormed their spirits into his own, purely for the joy of it. She knew who the boy was, Haran had been to their south for as long as memory served, even before it was 'Haran'. They weren't allies, but they weren't enemies either, Jartor had been a friend to the alfen even if his people were strangers. “Our people do not organize themselves in positions as yours do. There is no class system in our lands, and vocations can change so rapidly that any attempt at bureaucracy would be fruitless. We came because you called, and I have not seen an honest struggle in some time. I want to hunt and kill humans, and I want them to do the same to me. To feel alive, you might say, I want to battle your greatest champions and break them over my knee, that is why I am here.”
“How many would arrive if we come to an agreement?” Tyr asked, cutting to the chase.
“Roughly six hundred thou--”
“Six hundred thousand...?” Tyr interrupted, breathless. Six hundred thousand of these demons would sweep any kingdom from the face of the earth in a matter of days or weeks. Might even be able to kill a primus in such numbers. They were a race of magic and technology, not one of hugged trees and dainty vegetarians. With that kind of power...
“Six hundred eight five thousand, four hundred and twenty. That's how many formed up after hearing of the call to arms, provided by one of yon primus' who can ask of such a thing, the authority to do so,” Harkon said. “But you'll have to make do with us three. There will be no more support coming from our homeland, unless the great ones change their mind. We alfen live freely, but we obey one authority above all others, and to go against their word is the few things we consider objectively illegal.”
“That's fine.” Tyr was disappointed, but he understood it and wasn't going to argue with that. Each of the three was strong, he could feel it even with their subdued auras, and it was better than nothing. Not many others had deigned to answer him at all. “You'll obey my orders?”
“To the letter, and within reason,” Harkon nodded. “The only requests are that you do not attempt to abuse our racial quirks. We will not kill innocents, participate in willful genocide, nor will we share any unnecessary information with you.”
“Why will you obey me? I am a stranger.”
“You are more than you appear,” Harkon replied calmly, smiling as though the two were in solidarity over some great secret. “Don't sell yourself short, you are one of means who is not likely to die from contact with us. Who can give us what we want, personally, on one of our only opportunities to leave our homeland. Alfen are eccentric, and as I'm sure you've noticed, we like to hunt things – we have not been authorized to do so in a great many cycles. Our ticket, as it were, has been pulled, and thus here we are, each for our own reasons.”
Hmm... He wasn't sure how able these three were exactly, but they certainly weren't weak. If he had to ballpark it, all three would've been a fair fight for him. Which meant he lost in a conflict if they really could freeze his magic with a glance. Their unique abilities were almost perfectly tuned to slay humans, especially mages. He wouldn't count on them against a hero, but all three together might be able to disable one even if they couldn't seal the deal. And that was a great deal of combat capability, appearing from nowhere and totally unexpected.
“Payment?” Tyr asked.
“We require no salary or standard remuneration,” Remus spoke, finger raised, “Alfen are not motivated by wealth. Allow us free access to all of your trinkets and baubles, and we will consider it sufficient compensation for our time. You have to understand, I am four centuries old, Harkon is five, and Aram has lived through near two. It gets boring. We'll all have personal requests, and perhaps more in the future. As long as you grant us these things, we will be your partners in a defensive war, with the agreement that we may leave it at any time.”
“Bring us some meat, for me,” Aram requested, confirming another myth busted about their famously insular race. “The more diverse the selection, the better. We have no true serpents in our homeland and I would like to try that, though you should note that the meat of any aquatic creature is forbidden to us. Nothing that lives half or more of its life in the water can pass our lips. Frogs, turtles, fish, absolutely none of these things – nor their byproducts. This is incredibly important for you to know, their byproducts are forgivable, but if you do not obey this simple ask, I will attempt to kill you, however unlikely the possibility.”
Tyr nodded, that was a fairly easy ask, really. Amistad was full of foodstuffs and they weren't pescatarians here, being so far from the sea. Alfen had no allergies, none at all – they were, uh, talking in his brain, but they had an inherent dislike of the creatures of the ocean for some reason. Their nation had no proper sailing navy and while rivers were ironically sacred to them, there was some universal component of their culture that revolved around salty or brackish water. Even the few who did travel were not permitted to go more than 1.2 kilometers distance from the shore when transited by a sailing vessel. 1.2, 12 again – that number that kept popping up and always had been.
“No cats, either,” Remus added. “We do not eat felines.”
“Neither do we...?” Tyr gave him an odd look. He'd never heard of cat being served anywhere, dog, perhaps, but that was only in times of famine, which didn't happen in the modern day. Coyote and other canids might make the cut but he'd never taken part and never would. Tyr treasured hounds of all kinds, and though he'd kill them if he had to – it would be with reverence. Even wargs. He'd eat a human before any canid species.
Well... Real eyebrow raising moment. He quite literally had eaten human before a canid, so there was that. Destiny achieved, or something, and then there was Okami to think about, Tyr certainly didn't want to eat anything even remotely related to his beloved partner. And... by the way... where the hell was he?
“I personally request full access to your forging knowledge and facilities,” Tyr accepted Harkon's request, seeing no issue with it. Harkon was an engineer, not a runesmith, and this would become more apparent as time went on, perhaps explaining his metal arm that seemed just as articulate as a biological limb. Apparently airships were exceptionally common in his homeland and he'd seen Tyr's, considering it 'passable', confirming that it was indeed of alfen design initially. Something that had stricken wonder in everyone who had seen it was merely 'okay' in the eyes of these alfen. Odd that they'd managed to see it, though, that thing was long gone – hidden in the mountains of the disputed valley. Perhaps they had been in the city for far longer than he'd expected, watching them even before word had actually come.
“Anything else?” Tyr asked, he accepted all requests at a pass, these were things he'd offer any common soldier.
The alfen were so composed from start to finish of the conversation that it came as a bit of a shock when they began passing one another anxious looks.
“We have one more request, and it is...” Again for the first time, Harkon grimaced, not speaking as freely as he had before. Tyr didn't push, not that deep, it might be normal for them but it was not for humans. He would not read someone's mind, not truly, even if he could. Inner thoughts were sacred, if anyone did that to him, without consent, he'd be furious. Forcing the issue, that is, for something that couldn't help it, it was more forgivable.
“We...” Aram stepped forward, crossing her arms, pausing for breath and squinting. “First... The ways of our people might seem strange to you, alien, perhaps even evil. We have no leaders, but we do have special lineages that offer some approximate of cultural significance. Think of it not as a position of authority by birth, but akin to a sacred one, chosen by others as a... one of your gods might, truly. My people do not rule over one another, but we obey the requests of certain individuals who live among us. One such request, though it puzzles us all, even myself, is that you and I undertake a marriage--”
“Done,” Tyr waved it away, what was one more, really? Fuck it, harem time. Alex didn't seem concerned, at least this time she could preside over it, and it made sense, Tyr Faeron was the son of a primus and a primus himself, she was sure of that by now – that made him akin to a demigod whether he was actually useful or not. A marriage to a special class individual among the elves and the first pairing in known history could only be a boon. Things like this happened all the time, at one point Octavian Longinus had taken over fifty wives during the border annexations early in his rule. And Ragnar was even more prolific, as long as she remained first, that's all that mattered to her, she did not want to bear children in any event. And now, Tyr belonged to her in a way that couldn't be competed with, she had effectively 'tricked' him. Gotcha. “I accept a proposal of marriage,” Tyr said, “Anything else? The men, too? You're handsome enough to get some.”
Remus barked with laughter at his quick acceptance. Tired eyes turned up into crescent moons and his dour mouth splitting open to reveal a perfect set of sparkling white teeth. “I like your decisiveness, but she is not proposing to you, not in the way that you think.”
“Oh?” Tyr raised an eyebrow. “Do you not wish for me to take the trials of the skydance to first prove my worthiness to your people? After which we share our blood? You can look at me like I'm some kind of monster, but you should already be well aware that the open gates of your mind are very accessible to me. Stare long enough unto me, and I shall stare back unto you, forgive the drama. I am the big spooky abyss, a real horror of the void come to haunt you.”
Alex craned her head over at him with a befuddled look. The alfen were unique in many ways, and their customs could be called alien. To simplify, it was a duel, everything with them was a challenge, as had the fact that he'd gotten irritated and ripped through their memories. They were too giving in that way, Tyr doubted he could read a human being like that.
But the process by which they engaged in said duel, in current context, was a strange one. They would be taken skyward through some process, whether that meant jumping off an airship or borne into the atmosphere by magic of some sort. At which point... It became a bit darker. First, and of most important note to Tyr, everything was consensual on agreement and the trial could not be forced by any means. Both parties had to agree, and this would make sense a bit later, in context. Because the goal of the 'duel' wasn't a simple fight, the position equivalent to 'patriarch' or head of household, gender irrelevant, was determined by the party that was successfully able to physically incapacitate the other and 'mount' them. Which was exactly what that sounded like, beating your opponent to a pulp and having sex with them before you hit the ground.
May all the gods above bless these lunatic elves.
The mechanics of which... It was a bit confusing. More nuanced than all that and of great religious significance to them, but even Tyr wasn't able to tell why. They were open books, but there were little bits that they refused to let him see. And he wasn't about to go peeling their mind open to find out why, or how people would remain hard in the middle of the air. Hard. As in erect. The experience of falling from cloud level was not exactly an aphrodisiac.
“That's...?” Alex's eyebrows shot up as high as a person's could, staring in wonder at the elves. The alfen, in correction. Barbaric? That was probably an apt descriptor, but regardless of the adjective chosen it was brutal and senseless at the very least. “Are your people so strong that they can survive a fall from so high? And how do you... Do it, so fast? Do you have to be brought to climax?”
“It is symbolic, and has great significance to our people, is it non negotiable,” Remus said, having been one of the few male victors in his clade in the modern era. His brother was strong, but alfen women typically possessed the advantage over the males, just like the great ones. Among races, mankind was one of the few where the women didn't reign supreme, even then they truly did – through other means than a gender role. The fairer sex was no jest, that old human proverb had always amused someone like him. “You don't need to finish, let us say, just prove your dominance over the other through might, guile, or skill. Some don't fight at all, choosing to willingly submit through a battle of minds. Some play games or engage in other challenges on the way down, but you will find Aram to be a uniquely vicious opponent. She is a warrior both by choice and birth. Your mate mistakes things, this has nothing to do with carnal pleasure.”
“We remain at the pre-determined landing zone in anticipation of the fall, and we catch them,” Harkon added. “After which, both parties are exsanguinated, and bathed in the blood of the other. It is a bond far beyond the diamonds and rings of your own kind, and as said – sacred. One of the eldest ways. We understand full well how it can seem strange, ours is a people of science and great feats of engineering, but we hold to our customs. Especially this one. Three of our mightiest for one agreement on your part.”
Aram nodded slowly. “Consider it carefully. Once made, this vow can never be broken, there are others things that take place after – but to contradict our claims of honesty – we cannot share them with other races. It is not a secret, necessarily, but rather something involving information we are not permitted to share, because it is not our own.”
“I've already accepted, so that concludes our negotiation, lets go have sex in the sky, lady,” Tyr replied crisply and calmly, the only problem being that if he lost – she'd, by their ways, inherit all of his titles and become the true king of Amistad. Thankfully he was only a prince of Haran in name, or he might've had to refuse on principle. There was no level of position he possessed that mattered much to him. “This is a request in good faith rather than a requirement for the bargain, I know not what you want with my blood – as that is what you want, you should know that I know... And I'd like you three to stay for the next meeting. We've just received some surprised guests and I'm not entirely sure how it's going to go, probably messy. Also, since we're about to be married and all, make your tits bigger again.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No... What is wrong with you?”