Broken Promise

King Eldarion stood as a testament to the weight of centuries, his once-vibrant presence now tempered by the relentless passage of time. His tall, slender frame, still carrying an air of regal dignity, was beginning to show signs of weariness. His once-robust shoulders were slightly stooped, and his movements, though still graceful, had slowed with age. His skin, pale as moonlight, bore the fine lines and creases of a life lived through countless seasons. (picture)

His hair, a flowing cascade of silver, was meticulously braided and adorned with small, intricate beads and delicate vines, symbols of his deep connection to the elven realm. Despite its ethereal beauty, the hair spoke of a time long past its prime, more an echo of past glories than a vibrant crown.

Eldarion's eyes, a piercing shade of forest green, held the wisdom of ages within their depths. However, they were often clouded with a profound sadness, reflecting the burden of leadership and the sorrows he had endured. Dark circles under his eyes hinted at sleepless nights and the relentless strain of his responsibilities. His face, though still handsome, was etched with the lines of worry and fatigue, his high cheekbones and strong jaw softened by the passage of years.

His attire was a blend of majesty and practicality, befitting his status as the ruler of the elven kingdom. He wore a long, flowing robe of deep emerald green, embroidered with gold and silver threads that depicted scenes from elven history and mythology. Over his robe, he wore a finely crafted leather jerkin, tooled with intricate designs, signifying his readiness to defend his people even in his twilight years. Around his neck hung a pendant of polished amber, a symbol of his royal lineage and his connection to the natural world.

Despite his tired appearance, there was an undeniable strength in King Eldarion's presence. His voice, though softened by age, still carried the authority and command that had guided his people through countless challenges. He was a leader who had seen many battles, forged alliances, and navigated the complex politics of his realm with a steady hand.

The absence of his queen, who had retreated into seclusion years ago, weighed heavily on him. Her departure from public life had left him bearing the full weight of the crown alone, and it showed in the depths of his weary eyes. Yet, Eldarion remained steadfast, driven by an unwavering sense of duty to protect his kingdom and ensure its survival in these tumultuous times.

Elara took a seat, her whimsical nature momentarily replaced by curiosity and concern. "What's wrong, Father?"

Eldarion sighed, sitting opposite her. "Elara, there is something I must tell you. It is not news I deliver lightly, but it is necessary."

Elara tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

"Our kingdom is in grave peril," Eldarion began, his voice heavy with sorrow. "The dark elves are demanding your hand in marriage otherwise they promise to declare war. They know of your beauty, grace and recent coming of age, thus they see this union as a way to solidify peace and prevent hostilities between our people."

Elara's blood ran cold, curiosity replaced with abject horror. "Marriage? But you promised! You promised I would not be forced into such an arrangement!"

Eldarion looked pained, his eyes filled with regret. "I know, Elara. I never wanted this for you. But the situation is dire. Our resources are dwindling, and our defenses are weak. If we go to war, our people will suffer greatly. Many will die."

Elara stood abruptly, her fists clenched at her sides. "I refuse. I won't do it."

Eldarion's eyes softened with sorrow. "Elara, please understand. This is not just about you. It's about everyone. Our entire kingdom."

Tears welled up in Elara's eyes, but she blinked them away, her resolve hardening. "If you force me into this, Father, I will never forgive you."

Eldarion reached out, but Elara stepped back. "Elara, I am truly sorry. I wish there was another way."

Elara's mind raced. She couldn't stay here, couldn't be a pawn in this political game. She had to leave, and had to find her own path.

"I can't do this," she whispered, more to herself than to her father. "I won't." Tears welled up in Elara's eyes. "I don't want to marry someone I don't love. Especially not him."

"I understand, my child," Eldarion said softly, his voice breaking. "But sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Our people's lives depend on this. You won't become a simple concubine but an official wife. You won't be mistreated in your position as that would be utterly shameful for the prince."

Elara stood abruptly, her mind racing. She knew her father was speaking the truth, but the thought of marrying the most despicable person she met in her life repulsed her down to her very bones. Perhaps he wouldn't humiliate her openly but what about the happenings behind closed doors? She used to dream about the freedom of the forests, for the life of a true wood elf, not the gilded cage of her current life, but these developments were the final push she needed.

As she left her father's study, she wiped away her tears, a fierce determination settling in her chest. She wouldn't say it aloud to her father, but she knew what she had to do. She would run away, abandoning her royal duties to live the life she desired, as she desired. Even if it meant sacrificing the safety of her people, her heart would not be swayed. Call her greedy and selfish, but sacrificing for the greater good was not in her ideology.

Back in her room, she knelt by Sir Petalworth, her mind made up. She quickly explained her perilous situation to the flower. "Sir Petalworth, I'm leaving. I refuse to stay here and be a pawn in political games."

The plant seemed to quiver in response. "Elara, are you sure about this? The journey will be dangerous, and I cannot accompany you. I am, after all, just a pot of flowers."

Elara giggled softly, despite the gravity of the situation. "I know, Sir Petalworth. I'd probably end up breaking your pot on the first day. But I have to do this. My life should amount to more than this. I wish to be free."

"Then go, Elara," Sir Petalworth's voice was gentle yet firm. "Follow your heart, but be careful. The world outside is not as forgiving as the palace walls. Use your wood elf and druidic powers to your advantage and never forget; in the forest you are never truly safe. Oh and please do leave a note behind to have the fair maidens of the palace water me and talk to me every now and then, I do not wish to succumb to the agonizing clutches of loneliness."

Elara nodded, greatly understanding how demanding her flower friend and mentor could be. After leaving the note her resolve hardened. She packed a small bag with essentials, grabbed her druidic staff and changed into the Kingdom's standard wood elf ranger attire, a much more fitting one than her royal princess dress for her planned destination and under the cover of darkness she slipped out of her window and into the night, leaving behind the only life she had ever known. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and exhilaration as she ran towards the forest, ready to embrace the wild, uncertain future that awaited her.