The first light of dawn filtered through the tall, willowy trees planted on the palace grounds, casting a soft, golden glow across the expansive space. The crisp morning air carried the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of birdsong, creating an atmosphere of tranquility that Aldric couldn't even pretend to appreciate.

With measured precision, he drew back the bowstring, his amber eyes fixed intently on the target ahead. The arrow whistled through the air, burying itself deep within the bullseye with a satisfying thud. For a brief moment, Aldric allowed himself to feel a small flicker of accomplishment in a world that constantly doubted his abilities.

But the moment was fleeting, as it always was. The memory of yesterday's council meeting, where his opinions had been dismissed outright, still burned in his mind like a festering wound. Even now, he could hear the echoes of their dismissive remarks, their thinly veiled contempt for his mixed blood. "He's only half-elf," they had sneered behind closed doors. "What does he know of our ways?"

Aldric's fingers tightened around the bow, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. He had proven himself time and again, yet still, the shadow of his heritage loomed over him, casting doubt on every achievement. And now, to make matters worse, he was betrothed to the Duke's daughter, a union arranged not out of love or respect, but as a means to elevate his station and quell the growing unrest among the elven factions who seethed at the thought of a mere half-elf sitting on the throne.

The thought of his betrothed sent a rush of emotions through him - frustration, resentment, and an unwelcome thread of desire that he couldn't quite suppress. She was a reminder of everything he was not, everything he could never be. A pureblood noblewoman, beloved by her people, untainted by any stigma of mixed blood.

With a frustrated growl, Aldric released the bowstring, sending another arrow flying towards the target. This time, it veered off course, embedding itself in the grass a mere foot from the edge of the target. He cursed under his breath, his irritation mounting with each passing moment.

Perhaps it was time to call it a day. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, and he knew that his betrothed would be expecting him for their daily walk in the palace gardens, a tradition that had become increasingly strained and uncomfortable in recent weeks as their wedding date loomed closer.