“I think you should have gone after her.” Mayrin prodded Davian. “She’s a strong girl, but all of this had to have come as quite a shock to her.” She paused and then added, “I’m sure no one would fault you for it.”
“If that’s the argument you’d use, then I’d say that you should have stopped her from leaving in the first place.” Ladria rebutted Mayrin.
“I should have.” Davian replied. “She’s a strong girl though, and the ancestors are watching over her.”
The two elven women glared at Davian. “She has no ancestors to watch over her, Husband.” Ladria objected.
Davian gave the two of them a baffled look. “All this time, and you still don’t understand?” He asked simply. “All of us are connected by the blood of the Dragon.”
“Oh, what would my mother think if she learned I’d married a relative~?” Ladria bemoaned dramatically.
“Hush, you.” Davian scolded gently. “Besides, it’s not just blood that makes a family. We’ve all struggled together. Shared food together. Mourned together.”
Mayrin gave him a look of skepticism. “From an elven perspective, you weren’t mourning with her at Caidi’s death.” She accused. “She wandered the wastes for months because of it.”
“Not because I didn’t want to, you know.” Davian rebutted, a touch of exasperation and petulance, of all things, in his voice.
His two wives nodded at that.
“Still, do you think she’ll choose to go to war with Stormheim?” Ladria asked.
Davian sighed. “It’s a tough choice to make. The Clans haven’t ever marched to war like how I proposed. We defend ourselves and our home, but to leave the Redstone?” He shook his head. “An impossible task, but I’d accomplish the impossible to keep her with us.”
“That’s not our way, you know.” Ladria replied. “No one would approve of the idea of dying so far from our ancestral grounds.”
“Calling for war would have been more realistic twenty years ago. Or when I returned. Even if we remember, our blood has cooled. Stormheim hasn’t sent any retributive force against us.” He agreed. “It wouldn''t take the whole of the Redstone, either. Maybe fifty people could take that castle.”
Ladria looked thoughtful. “You’re thinking of assassinations and sabotage, then.” She decided. He nodded.
“In a stand-up fight we wouldn’t stand a chance. We’re not like that, we’re not equipped for that. We’re hunters. Predators, really. We don’t have soldiers, not in the conventional sense.”
His wives nodded at that.
“An assassination of the royal family might not be enough to dissuade them.” Mayrin advised. “After all, they would eventually realize that the last surviving blood of the royal family is here. It would make sense to rally their armies to retake their princess.”
Davian nodded. “I thought of that. We’d also take out the heads of state, their generals, soldiers of rank. Poison their wells and food stores. That would set them back at least forty or fifty years. Long enough for Sheilah to find her place as an adult, take a husband, have children, send them to the Ashen Lands.” He shrugged. “It’s not a terrible idea. Horribly optimistic, but not a terrible idea.”
“And the High Elves?” Ladria prompted. “They’re allies of the humans. It wouldn’t take them long to muster their forces at all.” She clamped her lips tight for a moment. “We’d find ourselves victim of the Dark Elves'' depredations once again. I don’t want my children, or their children’s children to grow up in that fear.”
Davian gave her a puzzled look. “The Dark Elves are odious, sure, but-”
Ladria shook her head. “You never learned what sort of monsters they are, Husband. How they treated ... my people.” Mayrin nodded at that.
“You’ve never told me.” Davian accused.
Mayrin spoke up. “It’s enough for you to understand that the Redstone Valley is a solace for the Wild Elves. Even if there’s an entire ocean between us and them, there are enough of us who remember the nightmare and stay awake at night, wondering when they’ll show up and take everything from us again.”
She shuddered, and Ladria slipped a comforting arm around her former handmaiden’s shoulders and pulled her close.
Davin pulled his wives close for a moment, offering his own comfort briefly. He silently sent a prayer for his ancestors and the Great Tyrant Mother to watch over Sheilah while he also wondered at the fear the Dark Elves invoked in his wives, even after all this time.
*****
When Sheilah awoke atop Adlan’s Spire, she understood that there was too much to take in all at once, so she simply decided to accept it all and figure it all out later.
Adlan was right; his spire was easy to climb; she had been making it difficult for herself by intentionally ignoring the obvious hand-and footholds that were everywhere.
Anyone could have climbed it. A child of four could do it. She’d somehow ignored every hand and foothold.
Her father was Davian, her mothers were Ladria and Mayrin. She had two little sisters that were nearing their time to head into the wastes.
Her power was easier to manage, now. She had to understand what it meant before she could use it, and she hadn’t been doing that before. She understood it and accepted it.
She was different, now. She was no longer the woman she’d been when she’d left her father’s tent. She understood and accepted that as well.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Things had changed. She had changed.
Acceptance was an ambiguous, malleable concept that could be put into any shape, but for Sheilah, “acceptance” meant “change”.
She accepted her life in the Redstone; she changed from whatever it was she was supposed to be in Stormheim into a member of the Dragon Clan. She’d taken in the blood and flesh of a Tyrant Dragon; she’d accepted the pact between herself and her Totem.
She accepted, she changed.
She’d eaten whelplings, dragonlings, a dragon, and a tyrant dragon. She’d accepted that power. Was she even considered human anymore?
Did it even matter? She was of the Dragon Clan, and that was enough.
She had some choices to make. She could ask Davian to go to war. He wanted to. He would do it. He had enough of a hatred in his heart for it. But could she see it through? Though she didn’t know her family in Stormheim, could she countenance the idea of her family here hunting down and killing her family there?
She was also an adult, now- she would likely also have to march in that dread pack.
She could stay in the Redstone. In that situation, nothing would change except that Stormheim would come to them.
She could go to Stormheim. Try to become one of them. It didn’t seem possible- there was too much dragon in her, after all- but she could try.
Choices.
It surprised her that she was somehow able to run all the way from her tribe’s land all the way through Dragon Clan territory to Adlan’s Rest, far to the north, so quickly.
It certainly explained her injuries, her cramps, her exhaustion.
Still, Adlan had explained things to her in a way that was easy to understand and accept, so when she arrived back at her tribe’s land and Davian embraced her, she was able to understand and accept that, as well.
“I wish that I was Adlan’s daughter rather than yours, father.” She complained when he embraced her. “He at least explained things to me much easier than you did.”
“I often wished he was my father, too.” He replied simply. “So what sort of choice have you made, daughter?” he asked.
“I-” She paused, and switched what she was going to say. “War is a difficult idea, father.” She replied. “Getting the other clans to do as you command is hard enough, despite being the Dragon.”
He gave her a curious look. “And what do you know of war, Daughter?” He asked.
“Adlan told me a little.” She replied. “And his father, and the father before him.” She paused and thought for a bit, considering what she should tell him, what she could tell him. There were things she had been told that she wasn’t certain he should know.
After a long moment of silence, she looked up at him. “I’ll go to them. See them with my own eyes. I’ll decide if my family should war with them.”
“There’s a lot of things I think I want to ask.” Davian began, but shook his head. “All right. Let’s go take a look at the sword I’ve been crafting for you in secret.”
She gave him a complicated look and for a moment she was shrouded in a veil of menace, but she nodded at him.
She’d wanted a spear- had said as much- but he’d instead decided on a sword for her. She gave him a frustrated look- she’d told him that she wanted a spear, not a sword- but held her tongue. For the length of a heartbeat the Dragon radiated out from her, but followed after him, part of her listening to the voice in her heart.
For her dragon-tooth weapon, they made her a sword and a knife, though not in the traditional Dragon Clan fashion. A dragon-tooth sword was usually fashioned much like a machete with a short, thick, curved blade that was designed more for chopping or slicing than it was piercing.
The sword they’d made for her was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
It was straight, as slim as two fingers, twin-edged, with a chiseled tip for thrusting. The blade was much longer and much slimmer than the blades she was used to.
“Why this design?” She asked, as she turned the blade over and over in her hands. It hadn’t yet been hafted in dragonbone.
“A couple of reasons:” He replied. “First, we’ve never gotten teeth this big.” Davian explained simply. “A bigger tooth means we can make different types of weapons. I figured something like this would appeal to you.” he explained, taking the blade from her and twirling it in his hands. “Besides, a weapon you take out of the Redstone has to have some elegance and refinement to it, lest they think we’re nothing but savages.”
She frowned at that.
“Will they really think that?” She asked.
He nodded immediately, without hesitation. “Absolutely they will. Everything you do, everything you say will be judged. Everything you don’t do and don’t say will also be judged. It’s just- that’s how they were raised. They live in a city, they are better than the people that do not. They live in a mansion, they are better than those that do not.”
His face twisted. “If you show up with a barbarian’s spear, they will think of you as a barbarian.” He explained. “This will be a weapon that you can take pride in, as a Dragon and as a princess of Stormheim.”
“Mansion?” She asked, frowning.
“It’s a really big house.” He replied simply. “I’ll tell you what I know, but... I don’t know much. I never needed to know, and I never cared to know.”
She nodded, and then paused. “All of this- you knew I was going to go?” She asked.
“I guessed. I’ve been watching over you for fourteen years, I’m not so stupid I can’t guess your thinking.” he answered. “Still- I would have loved to go to war with Stormheim.”
He adjusted his stance with the blade in one hand and twirled it. “I think it went something like this...” He muttered, relying more on his wrist and forearm to move the sword rather than his shoulders.
“A sword like this is meant more for thrusts and flourishes...” He trailed off, “but since it’s made from the tooth of a dragon, you can do so much more than that.” He shifted his stance and made a few quick slashes to demonstrate.
“What about the blade that was made earlier?” She asked curiously.
“What do you think should be done with it?” He asked. “You can entrust it with us, or take it with you. Either choice is correct.”
She looked to him, but he gave her a simple gesture.
“You can take that blade with you, as a blade of the family. Or, you can leave the blade with us, a gift to the generations that will come after.” He gestured again. “Either choice is correct.”
She nodded at that.
“If you’re looking for advice, I’d suggest that you don’t tell Fialla. If you tell her... and I think you will anyway; you’ve picked up my habit of immediately wanting to defy someone when they say ‘don’t do this’ or ‘don’t do that’,” he added with an eyeroll,
“Think of what will happen: In a few months you will go to Stormheim. She will find some way to follow after you. She might think it’s a kidnapping. She might think she needs to save you. She might think she needs to go to war to bring you back. Stormhiem is rightfully afraid of Redstone, and her going to war with them means that they will kill her... and then go to war with us.” he paused. “Even if she just leaves, even if she gets permission from her own father... that will be a gap in her own family.”
She nodded, but she had made a vow with Fialla.