The first night on the trip to Stormheim, Magdalene and her maid sat awkwardly around the small campfire that Sheilah and Filla had kindled, struggling with their meal. It was obvious to them that neither Sheilah nor Fialla had any problems with their food, though they gingerly tasted the bowls of porridge carefully before eating it quickly, alongside meat, fruits, and some nuts they’d gathered from the forest.
Magdalene flinched a little every time one of the girls cracked a nutshell with their teeth; their behavior seemed nearly feral.
“I’ll ask this just for confirmation, but you are my daughter, right?” Magdalene asked, interrupting a conversation the two girls were having in low voices.
Sheilah looked at her speculatively for a moment, and then glanced at Fialla, and then back to Magdalene. She adopted a pensive look, and then she smiled predatorily, displaying those bestial teeth.
“What makes you ask that?” She asked curiously.
Magdalene pressed her lips together. “The people of Stormheim- those of the bloodlines that comprise the royal family, certainly- have light hair and eyes.” she stated, fingering her own pale locks. “I cannot reconcile that with a dark-haired daughter.”
Sheilah shared looks with Fialla again.
“Will you tell her?” Fialla asked quietly.
“It doesn’t seem like I have a choice.” Sheilah replied back, just as quietly.
“But she’s not-” Fialla objected.
“I know.” Sheilah replied, cutting her off.
Fialla subsided, albeit sulkily. “That other one, though- she doesn’t need to hear, at least.” Fialla griped. “Send her away.”
Sheilah turned part of her attention back to Magdalene. Well, it wasn’t like she had stopped paying attention to Magdalene, it was just- she seemed to be able to pay attention to several things at once, independently of each other.
“Send her” she gestured at Magdalene’s maid, “away. There’s no reason she needs to hear this.”
Magdalene frowned. “She’s my maid, and her family has served mine faithfully for many years. She has my absolute trust.”
Sheilah sent a baffled look to Fialla- what was a maid? She still didn’t understand what that was. “I don’t understand. Is she family?” She asked.
Magdalene gave Sheilah a frustrated look. “She’s not family, she’s a maid.” Magdalene replied testily.
Sheilah and Fialla traded looks of confusion between each other.
“If she’s not family, then she doesn’t need to be a part of this conversation.” Fialla suggested, and Sheilah turned back to Magdalene.
“Just so.” She agreed. “Family matters stay within the family.”
Magdalene inclined her head to Fialla. “Then that one- she should leave as well.”
“She’s my sister.” Sheilah immediately rebutted. “Besides, she shares the same-” She paused, and looked to Fialla. “Trait?” She asked. “Would that be the right word?” She asked curiously.
Fialla shrugged. “I think so?” She half-asked.
Sheilah’s expression firmed. “Regardless, she leaves.” she gestured towards Magdalene’s maid, who hadn’t introduced herself at all the entire time they’d spent together.
Magdalene sighed. “Go back to the carriage and wait for me, Andrea.” She ordered in a tired voice.
The girl nodded, but looked fearfully out at the darkness.
“I don’t know where it is, Your Majesty.” She worried.
Sheilah and Fialla exchanged looks again, but Fialla stood up. “I’ll show you the way.” She offered drily, contempt in her voice.
After the maid- Andrea- was out of earshot, Sheilah held out her hand, calling attention to her nails, which were glossy black, and sharp.
“My Clan is the Clan of the Dragon.” She explained, picking her words carefully. “When you hunt... them...” she decided to avoid revealing too much about the rites of drinking their blood and eating their hearts- that was ritual, that was important, and outsiders- especially Stormheim- didn’t need to know about it. “...you start to take on a little of their characteristics.” She finished. “For Fialla and I, it’s hair and nails. They turn this color because of the Dragon.”
Magdalene gave her outstretched hand a contemplative look.
“Further, I’ll explain what my father- what Davian- told me about myself.” She offered, and relayed everything that Davian had told her- that Davian had brokered a removal of Stormheim’s influence from the Redstone, and that Sheilah had been offered as a hostage to guarantee it.
“I wish-” Magdalene muttered in a bitter, forlorn voice, “that there was at least some part of you that remembered me.” She complained. “As it stands now, you are completely-” She bit off what she was going to say, and wiped her tears.
She took a breath. “You’re going to need to be taught everything- everything you need to know- in two years.” She complained, and then looked towards the direction that Fialla had gone. “And that one-” She broke off and shook her head. “I don’t even know where to begin with that one.”
Sheilah gave her a flat look, and repeated herself- again- to Magdalene.
“She’s my sister.”
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Magdalene rubbed her forehead. “Elves are not welcome in Stormheim. They are not liked or respected. The Dark Elves have been a complete nuisance to everyone, and have made sure that they are hated.”
Sheilah gave her a confused look. “Why not simply kill them?”
Magdalene sighed. “Because if we do, it’s an excuse for them to invade us. We don’t have the money or the resources to fight them off. Even if we could do so, the High Elves would make sure any victory was a short-lived one.”
Magdalene’s head came up. “Can you use magic?” She suddenly asked. “Can that one?”
Sheilah’s distracted, indifferent look suddenly focused completely on Magdalene, and the older woman shivered, and all at once found it difficult to breathe as her spine turned to ice.
“That one has a name. Fialla.” She corrected as the fire suddenly guttered. “She is my sister.” She stated firmly. She held her mother’s gaze with her own. “Acknowledge it.”
It might have been some trick of the light, but it seemed as though the campfire was reflected in Sheilah’s eyes. Tight bands seemed to have locked around Magdalene’s chest, an icy hand gripped her heart.
“I-” She gasped, barely able to speak. “I-” She tried again. “She-” She whispered, and some distracted, terrified part of her worried she was going to pass out, soil herself, or both.
“I’m sorry.” She wheezed.
Her chest unhitched; the icy hand vanished as if it had never been there, and she was suddenly able to breathe normally.
Sheilah shifted where she sat, shooting a complicated look down at the dragon-tooth sword she wore. Compared to the lengths of the normal blades the Dragons used, it was unnecessarily long, and so it was always banging against her leg, and it made everything difficult. Sitting, standing, walking, all of it was suddenly awkward to do because the blade was so long.
“We can’t use magic.” Sheilah replied. “We’ll die if we try.”
Magdalene gave her a baffled look at that. “That’s- that’s not how that works, at all.” She disputed as Fialla returned. “Either you can, or you can’t use magic.”
Sheilah shook her head at that. “We can discuss that later,” she disputed, “but I’m tired. And hungry again.”
Fialla chuckled. “You’re always hungry.”
“I think I have a reason to be.” Sheilah argued back.
Fialla handed over a small bundle of rations. “True enough. Here, a last taste of home, Sheilah.” She offered quietly.
“We’ll eat it together.” Sheilah decided, and the two of them moved away from the fire, unintentionally leaving Magdalene to find her own way back to her carriage.
“Sheilah, I think we need to have a serious talk.” Fialla remarked as they ate rations made in the Redstone.
Sheilah nodded. “All right. I’m listening.” She replied, and focused most of her attentions on Fialla.
“Are you seriously going to live in Stormheim?” The half-elf asked with a concerned look. “I don’t like them. The way they look at you- the way they look at me- their attitudes- even their smells.” She let out a breath. “Your own mother- if she even is your mother- looks at you with such contempt. Like she’s somehow better than you. She needs help to shit in a box.” She spat. “Let’s ditch them. Let’s just go.”
“Go where?” Sheilah asked. “Back to the Redstone?” Sheilah asked.
“Yes! Or somewhere else, just away from them!” Fialla exclaimed hotly.
Sheilah fingered a bit of the crumbly ration bar in her hand. “And if that brought Stormheim back to the Redstone?” She asked curiously.
“So now we have to go?” Fialla demanded petulantly.
“Hmmm.” Sheilah muttered in thought, as Fialla produced a leather waterbag Sheilah hadn’t seen before.
“Here.” Fialla proffered.
Sheilah took it and frowned at the smell of alcohol.
“Where did you get this?” She asked, taking a sip of the unfamiliar drink. It was made from an unfamiliar fruit, wasn’t particularly strong, but tasted good.
“It was in their carriage.” Fialla replied.
Sheilah took a longer drink, and then passed it back to her sister.
“I want to see them. I’ll try to live with them for a time.” She decided. “I’m going to see them with my own eyes.”
Fialla drank, then, deeply. “And what else?” She asked.
Sheilah smiled, showing teeth. “What’s the first lesson in hunting? Wait. Watch the prey. Wait for the best moment to loose the arrow.”
“You’ll kill them?” Fialla asked.
“If I have to.” Sheilah replied, spreading her hands. “But first, I have to know them. I have to make sure the choice is the right one.” She finished, and wordlessly gestured for the skin of wine.
Fialla passed it back.
“Davian told me of Stormheim. Your father- and the mothers and fathers and grandmothers and grandfathers told us all about Stormheim- what they did, what they can do.” Sheilah explained. “But he also told me that I am a Stormheim. That their First Blood runs through my veins.” She added after taking a long drink. “So,” she patted her chest, “I have to know them, I have to make sure.”
Fialla took a long breath.
“Okay, so how long are you going to put up with them?” she finally asked.
“A day at a time.” Sheilah decided. “And the day I can’t take it anymore, I’ll leave.”
Fialla nodded. “Let’s not spend the entire trip stuck in that tiny box.” She stated, notes of displeasure in her voice.
Sheilah laughed at that.
*****
Fialla and Sheilah eyed the city as it came into view from atop the carriage. Weeks had gone by at an agonizing crawl.
“So that is a place where legends go to die.” Sheilah muttered, drawing Fialla’s attention.
“Hmm?” Fialla asked, eyes roaming over the walls and turrets.
“Something father told me. He said that the people of Stormheim were once tribesmen like us. They came together, forgetting their stories and traditions, and made this city. They don’t even remember where they come from.” Sheilah explained.
“What a terrible thing.” Fialla agreed.
“Father says it will happen to the Redstone, eventually.” Sheilah replied, and explained what Davian told her.
“What a horrible thought.” Fialla replied. “Hopefully the Dragon is the tribe that survives.”
Sheilah bit her lip. “As Dragons, it’s our right to rule. But we cannot allow the Tyrant in our blood to demand the other clans abandon their ways, their stories, their heroes.”
Fialla nodded, though in her heart she wanted the Dragon to rule forever.
“Magdalene says this city has Dark Elves in it.” Sheilah mused. “That they demand subservience in the name of the High Elves.”
Fialla barked a laugh. “Dark elves die the same way that anything dies.”
Sheilah shook her head. “Attacking the Dark elves will invite war between Stormheim and the Elves. Right now, elves hold the upper hand. Trying to stab someone while standing in a Hive Lizard nest accomplishes nothing. It’s important to pick the battleground.” She laughed, then. “But if a High Elf shows up, however, I will do what my father did, and burn their faces off.”
Fialla burst out laughing. “I knew there was a reason I chose you as my sister.”
Sheilah waved her hands to embrace the city. “This is our new Clan, Fialla. My family is the ruling Tribe. We will protect our Clan.”