[ The wedding itself feels as though it passes in both an age and an instant. Elrond himself is dressed in a gold that glimmers as though spun with white gold, a silver circlet set about the crown of his head. Each facet catches the light as he and Rhaenyra are brought together underneath the branches of the trees overhead, a carpet of golden leaves underfoot, like motes of dust caught in the light as a few of them fall from above to land among the assembled crowd.
This is the first of such unions to be recognized in this way, a marriage brokered for political strength and assurance of succession and influence rather than a match made out of love. But there is still something soft in the way that Elrond looks at Rhaenyra when their hands are brought together, and it is not a false attempt at blessing this evening with something it does not naturally possess. He holds her gaze, even as he slips a ring onto her finger, the one given from his kin a delicately spun circle of gold laid with white gems, glimmering with starlight.
What follows immediately after the ceremony is a whirl of congratulations, duly given, and a round of necessary acknowledgments that he suspects would not have been necessary were this not arranged in the way that it is.
(He spends the longest speaking with King Viserys. There will be more time for them to talk — it is not as though the King intends to stay here — but it feels important. He seems relieved that the whole event — as of yet, at least — has passed without a hiccup, that gladness manifesting in a little bit of color in his face as warm torchlight bathes all those gathered here in a glow. Elrond feels glad to see the King well, more so given the way his failing health has been so evident since the moment the ships had arrived from King's Landing.)
The party spills out into all corners of the forest, wandering trills of music audible throughout the trees. Still, he finds himself back where they'd been earlier that day, not by any intention but by happy accident, and the relatively perfunctory smile he wears shifts into something more genuine when he sees Rhaenyra, then splitting into a laugh at her greeting. The note of wryness in expression is evident — to him, if not to any onlookers — and he cannot really blame her for it, as a similar note manifests in the slope of his shoulders, the tilt of the line of his mouth. ]
It is strange, to hear myself addressed in such a way, [ he notes, as he steps forward to meet her, bowing his head in return. ] But— it is not unpleasant. I do not think I will much mind becoming accustomed to it.
[ He casts his gaze upward for a moment, to the stars that hang like jewels in the sky, the rich, deep blue of night, untouched by the lights that illuminate the ongoing celebrations. Such scale is a useful, reminder, sometimes — this is titanic change in their lives, in the legacy of their respective people, but there are greater forces in this world that pay it no mind, that are as affected by it as a pebble tossed into a moving stream. That isn't to say that he isn't present, or cares not for what lies before them, but simply that he knows better than to obsess over it, to become too consumed by what, in the end, will not last once he is no longer of this earth. ]
And you, my lady wife? [ His tone is similarly teasing. ] How does the night find you?
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This is the first of such unions to be recognized in this way, a marriage brokered for political strength and assurance of succession and influence rather than a match made out of love. But there is still something soft in the way that Elrond looks at Rhaenyra when their hands are brought together, and it is not a false attempt at blessing this evening with something it does not naturally possess. He holds her gaze, even as he slips a ring onto her finger, the one given from his kin a delicately spun circle of gold laid with white gems, glimmering with starlight.
What follows immediately after the ceremony is a whirl of congratulations, duly given, and a round of necessary acknowledgments that he suspects would not have been necessary were this not arranged in the way that it is.
(He spends the longest speaking with King Viserys. There will be more time for them to talk — it is not as though the King intends to stay here — but it feels important. He seems relieved that the whole event — as of yet, at least — has passed without a hiccup, that gladness manifesting in a little bit of color in his face as warm torchlight bathes all those gathered here in a glow. Elrond feels glad to see the King well, more so given the way his failing health has been so evident since the moment the ships had arrived from King's Landing.)
The party spills out into all corners of the forest, wandering trills of music audible throughout the trees. Still, he finds himself back where they'd been earlier that day, not by any intention but by happy accident, and the relatively perfunctory smile he wears shifts into something more genuine when he sees Rhaenyra, then splitting into a laugh at her greeting. The note of wryness in expression is evident — to him, if not to any onlookers — and he cannot really blame her for it, as a similar note manifests in the slope of his shoulders, the tilt of the line of his mouth. ]
It is strange, to hear myself addressed in such a way, [ he notes, as he steps forward to meet her, bowing his head in return. ] But— it is not unpleasant. I do not think I will much mind becoming accustomed to it.
[ He casts his gaze upward for a moment, to the stars that hang like jewels in the sky, the rich, deep blue of night, untouched by the lights that illuminate the ongoing celebrations. Such scale is a useful, reminder, sometimes — this is titanic change in their lives, in the legacy of their respective people, but there are greater forces in this world that pay it no mind, that are as affected by it as a pebble tossed into a moving stream. That isn't to say that he isn't present, or cares not for what lies before them, but simply that he knows better than to obsess over it, to become too consumed by what, in the end, will not last once he is no longer of this earth. ]
And you, my lady wife? [ His tone is similarly teasing. ] How does the night find you?