Chapter Text
She was Princess Elanora of house Beaumont, at least on the days when she wasn’t skulking about her city like she was today. Her raven black hair was usually done up with far too many hair pins and scented with all sorts of oils...today it was done in a simple braid -- one of the few hairstyles she could do herself -- and mostly hidden by her cloak, the hood pulled up to almost cover her eyes. Eyes that normally were painted with elaborate colors that only a king -- like her father -- could afford...eyes that hopefully wouldn’t draw too much attention to her. Not everyone in city was famous for having one blue eye and one green eye. Blessed by the gods they had said when she was born. Special. Unique. Fancy words for a bargaining chip that was going to open her legs for the highest bidder and give birth again and again until a male heir was born for some lord. Such was the fate of being a royal daughter, especially one with brothers and sisters like she had.
Which is why Eleanora was, relatively, left alone. No real reason to keep your daughter on a short leash when she was just a womb to sell. Her older sisters had long since been sold off to the more imperative and important alliances. She would just be a prize for some of her father’s friends or their sons. Whoever father owed a favor to or wanted to reward. It was a toss up, really.
And being left alone meant that she could go to the docks unimpeded. No one looked twice at her, just a normal girl shopping around the marketplace...minus the two different colored eyes. She deftly avoided eye contact and simply kept her head down when she exchanged money with the shopkeepers. Not that she needed the cheap baubles and food. But she needed to look like she belonged and wasn’t just loitering. She knew from many reports written by the city guard that the locals were none too friendly to those they thought were outsiders. Not that they were agressively jingoistic -- really many were from foriegn nations and didn’t give a single fuck about their adopted country -- but this was the working class and they hated the rich and powerful...yet were all trying to become the rich and powerful. A rather interesting and hypocritical dichotomy that she found beauty in.
Which is why she found herself at the docks. For the most hypocritical and strongest outspoken of all the workers was a blacksmith. An orc woman named Zaveel. Elanora didn’t know Zaveel’s clan name or if the she-orc even had a clan. What Elaonra did know was that Zaveel, Zee to her friends, was a leader of a sort of rebellion group. They weren’t particularly dangerous or violent, they just stole shipments here and there and maybe didn’t pay as many taxes as they should. All out of pretense for sticking it to the royal family.
When Elanora first learned of this group, she thought them naive and misguided. Her curiosity had brought her to the docks to see what idiots these people were and that’s when she first laid eyes on Zaveel. Zaveel with her dark green skin, her rippling muscles, her black hair half-shaved on one side, the sweat glistening from her body as she brought her hammer pounding onto the red-hot steel she was beating away at. And that’s when Eleanora’s curiosity turned from wanting to know these idiots...to pure and utter thirst. Elanora did everything she could to find out about the woman who radiated pure sexual energy with every movement in her body. Zaveel, or Zee, was gruff and blunt...but there was a kindness to her. She would give anything to those she cared for just as quickly as she’d bash the head in of those she hated. A woman after Elanora’s own heart. So she shifted her attention from trying to learn about this idotic group to courting Zee. Which is what led her to today. Today was the day she was going to talk to Zaveel. Elanora had made a name, so far, of herself for always buying the last flowers or bits of bread from local shopkeepers so they could go home early. And would give those to local beggars to help them out. Altruism for her own selfish needs. The kindness she gave those around her was turned around and seen by Zaveel and her group. Braken, a rough and tough dockworker, had suggested that she go and talk to Zaveel. He would let Zee know that Elanora, or Ellie as she introduced herself, would be coming to talk shop.
Elanora figured that Zaveel would try to convince her to join their little rebel group and bam, Elanora would be in...or Zee would be in her. The thought of having Zaveel be her first sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. It would be the ultimate fuck you to her father...especially if she were to grow round with Zaveel’s child. He might even end up trying to disown her...the thought made her laugh. Her mother always found it distasteful for those with money to disown their children with...wild...tastes. Her mother had always, privately, told the girls that she would help pay for any...mistakes...they made. Certainly the queen wouldn’t expect her daughters to actively go searching for mistakes to be made...and plan to keep making those same mistakes as Elanora was hoping to do. But it was good for Elanora to know that whatever happened...she still had her family’s support.
Elanora shook herself from her thoughts, taking a deep centering breath. She was going to do this. Today was the day. She grabbed two bowls-- made of the outer shell of the fruit-- of cut exotic fruits dusted with spices that a stand was selling, a little on the expensive side but she wanted to try and make a good first impression. She always believed that a way to anyone’s heart was through their stomach. Zaveel was banging away at her anvil, her sleeveless tunic and apron giving her quite a gracious view of her naked arms, arms that Elanora hoped would be holding her very soon. She watched as Zaveeel brought whatever it was she had been pounding away was up to her eyes as she squinted at it, nodded, and tossed it down into a bucket making whatever contents inside of it hiss. She wiped sweat from her brow and Elanora swallowed hard.
She walked crossed the street.
Zaveel stared confused at her as Elanora approached with bowls in hand. Elanora took a deep breath, smiled, and held out one of the bowls to her. Zaveel stared at the bowl and then back to Elanora and then back to the bowl before taking it into her large hands, taking a piece and popping it into her mouth.
“Not that I’m not thankful for the snack,” Zaveel’s eyes looked Elanora up and down, “but who the fuck are you?” Her red eyes narrowed angrily. Shit. Did Braken not tell Zaveel that she was coming? Fear gripped her heart for the moment but she swallowed it down. No. Be brave.
“I’m Ellie. I thought Braken was telling you I was going to introduce myself.” Elanora frowned. Zaveel’s angry glare widened into a look of surprise.
“Oh! Gods, I apologize.” Zaveel smirked, “I had expected an old crone from the way he spoke of you. Didn’t think you would be young or attractive.” Zaveel took another large bite of the fruit.
“It’s fine. No need to apologize. I assumed Braken to be a bit more descriptive when telling you I was coming.” Elanora laughed, popping some fruit into her own mouth, savoring the contrasting flavors of spicy and sweet.
“You wanted to talk about how you could do…” Zavveel looked around for a moment, “more for the denizens of our city.” Elanora nodded, “Good, good. Out in the open like this is a little too...well...out in the open.” Zaveel chuckled as Elanora looked at her confused. “You didn’t expect us to talk shop here, did you? This...meeting...is just so I can get a feel for you. If I don’t like the look of you or feel like you’re a spy then we’d kill you and have your body dumped somewhere discreet.” Eleanora stood, staring and gaping like a fish. Zaveel laughed, shaking her head, “I’m kidding, of course. But we do like to be careful. Come back here tonight after sundown and we can talk then.” Zaveel shoved the last bit of fruit into her mouth, tossing the bowl on to the counter beside her. Elanora had been dismissed enough times in her life to know that the conversation was over...though it had never been by anyone of as low birth as Zaveel...it sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. She wanted more of it...gods forgive her.