Making Fen'Harel

Chapter 3

Time seemed to stop in the moment. Her mind scrambled for the right words. Nothing could undo this slip of the tongue. Everyone in the ballroom was quiet. The music had stopped playing, there was no laughter or chatting. All eyes were on her. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

How was he here? This didn't make any sense. He was here, speaking with the Evanuris, he appeared to be one of them. His garment was very fine, velvet mostly, the inside of his coat was silk though, she could see it shimmerimg now in the light of the magical orbs overhead. She tried to reason that it wasn't him, that it couldn't be him. The jawbone necklace hanging over the neckline of his dark velvet robe confirmed it was him.

"I.." she started, and he cocked his head a bit, awaiting her response patiently. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She cleared her throat and stood up a little straighter. "I grew up in the same village as you."

A smile spread across his lips. "Ah, I see." If he didn't believe her, she couldn't tell. "How is your mother, da'len?" He asked.

Rihari was confused, he wouldn't have known her mother because her statement had been a lie. Her heart pounded. "I wouldn't know. I haven't been there in so long."

He nodded lightly with a smile, before he turned away. He sat down at the end of the table. The room lightened up with chatter as he sat. The band began playing again, a cheery tune to get people dancing. Rihari tried to hide her embarrassment, but had a hard time. People continued to stare, to give her stern looks. A servant girl, stepping out of her boundaries and speaking to a God, a serious offense.

She eavesdropped as Dirthamen apologized to Fen'Harel. Saying he would "deal with her". The words sent a jolt of fear up her spine. Luckily, when she glanced over Fen'Harel shook his head no. She continued to carry the platter of drinks about for a few minutes, before returning to the kitchen. She sat them down on the wooden counter a little too hard.

"The food for the table is ready." Someone called across the kitchen. She had no intention of going back out there. Her mind was muddled, confused, wondering how. She couldn't come up with anything except that, Solas, her lover, was Fen'Harel. That thought brought her heart into her throat.

She had thought they were together on the idea of the Gods, she had told him she didmt really put much stock into the tales and he had agreed. Why would he do that? To hide his identity? That didnt make any sense. Even if he had said "Oh, I think the Gods are just as real as you and me" She never would have suspected it. But it had to be true, didn't it? Because there he was, a God himself.

Before she could protest, an Elven woman shoved a plate of food in her hands and hurried her towards the door. She had no choice but to go back into the ballroom and face the music. Rihari held the bowl of mixed vegetables tightly as she followed the other servants to the table. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and when she glanced up on their way over Fen'Harel's eyes were on her. She hid her gaze, but he did not. Even as she sat the bowl down on the table, he kept his eyes carefully trained on her.

She considered that he must know she was lying. That is the only reason he is staring. Of course he would know she was lying, he had grown up in the village. Rihari brought her eyes up once more. She watched the eyes of her future lover carefully as he sipped wine from a golden goblet. She saw the tempting, defiant look in his eyes. He definitely knew.

She spent the rest of the evening avoiding the ballroom as well as she could. She helped wash dishes, and sort the pantry. She mopped the floor of the kitchen and cleaned the stove. But eventually, someone handed her a bottle of wine and demanded she go to see if anyone needed a refill. She kept her eyes averted as she approached the table, but could feel his eyes on her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She held out the wine carefully at the head of the table beside Dirthamen. June tipped his goblet towards her and she filled it. He took a long drag before he grabbed Sylaise's hand and pulled her towards the dance floor. She laughed cheerfully as he spun her around. Fen'Harel tipped his empty glass in her direction as well, and she walked around to fill it. She poured only a couple of sips before he stopped her. He downed it in one motion, his eyes never leaving hers.

Fen'Harel stood and slipped the bottle from her fingers. Her heart dropped to her belly with the thud of the bottle being set on the table. The man smirked, enjoying her discomfort. And clearly amused by the disaprooving looks of the room. He grabbed her hand, and she could feel all the eyes on her. She held her breath as he lifted her hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss there.

"Dance with me?" He asked. His eyes tempted her with a look, full of curiosity and desire. They wondered down to the neckline of her dress. She remembered that the dress was too big, that the neckline had revealed too much cleavage. She tried to breathe past the lump in her throat. Her mind wondered back to the night on the balcony at the Winter Palace and she tried to hide her smile. She nodded slowly, but could bring no words.

He pulled her into the dance floor, and turned towards the band. "Play something more upbeat." He said to them, and they immediately kicked off with a new song. The music made her feel jolly, made her feet feel like dancing. Fen'Harel pulled her into a dance that was quick and upbeat. A damce that somehow her feet knew. He danced a little too close to her, making her heart beat faster and faster.

When the song had finished he twirled her around, smiling. Then he applauded the band for a job well done. She took the opportunity to glance over to her Master, Dirthamen. He held a deep scowl on his face, as did many others. Some refused to watch the rebel dance with the serving girl, instead looking away or turning their attention to their glasses of wine or food.

She swallowed hard, started to head back to the table and apologize. She wanted to say it wasn't her fault. That her outburst had been an accident. Those thoughts were cut short as a hand closed around hers and pulled her back into a dance with the Dread Wolf. It felt so natural, his body against hers and their movements the I'm sync, that she almost forgot who she was dancing with.

He pulled her in closer, for a slow dance. "You are not from my village." He whispered knowingly.

Her heart hammered. Of course he knew, she had slipped up. A royal screw up.

"I knew you'd catch that." She said truthfully. Somehow the truth relieved her.

He smiled. "Who are you really?" The music picked up a bit and he twirled her around to keep up the image.

"I'm just a serving girl." She replied, hopeful that he would drop it. He didn't.

"Not so." He stated. "You would not have known my true name if you were 'just a serving girl'." A smirk crossed his lips.

She opened her mouth to speak, but could not. How could she explain that she was in love with Solas, in the future. That she had fallen for him and had thought she'd known him, but apparently she did not. Luckily, she didn't get to speak.

"Don't say. Not here, there are ears everywhere." As the music died he held her at arms length and pressed a kiss to her cheek. It sent pangs of lust through her body, and she tried to squelch them.

He must have sensed her unease. Or maybe he sensed her longing, because he smiled knowingly. "Thank you for the dance."

He turned to leave, but turned back once more. "Dareth shiral, ina'lan'ehn asha."
He said casually with a genuine smile, before turning and going back to the table.

Her heart fluttered. Hearing the voice of her future lover call her pretty meant alot, even if this was somehow not the same man she had fell for. She tried to remind herself that this was a different time, a different situation. He was probably using her to gain attention. She couldn't be sure though. His glances to her exposed patch of breast had not gone unnoticed. Nor had his eyes wondering occasionally from her eyes to her lips, and everywhere else.

She turned carefully and noted all of the eyes on her. Though she had not instigated the dance, she would be blamed. She dreaded what would come next. Would she be disgraced? Would Dirthamen punish her? How?

Her mind flopped between a thousand possibilities as she walked away from the ballroom. She headed for the servants quarters. She needed time to clear her mind, to decipher what all this meant. She needed time to decide what she wanted to believe.