“Not even ironic. Isn’t it just like a Sorde to want to first learn how to talk down to people in a brand new language?” The fiery princess couldn’t help but snort. She picked up a smooth, flat stone and tossed it into the waterfall, watching as the deluge plummeting from the cliffside absorbed the piece of rock, lost forever in the depths of the rushing water. “I also wish that I could be taking the time to learn words of peace, and if we are granted such a reprieve in the animosity I’m facing, here… I wouldn’t mind learning to talk peace with your people, Theoduin. But now is not that time, unfortunately, and as much as I am not here to antagonize your peaceful race, neither can I passively accept their bullying of any sort. It would not speak to Eyraille’s strength. Responding to your sister’s animosity… that is entirely another matter that we’ll have to touch on later.” She smiled without any amusement and shrugged her shoulders. “For now, we’ll have to start somewhere, and if that somewhere is making me capable of telling these folk to back off, then so be it. So your language has a tonal aspect, you say? Nairitian, the language of the kingdom of Nairit, used to be heavily tonal prior to the modern day. I’ve got some experience in that area of linguistics, so… let’s give it a try.”

Ardreth na olinn. Well, he hadn’t been kidding; at least two of the syllables vastly different from what she was used to speaking. As Theoduin has mentioned, the sounds vibrated low in his throat. A beautiful, thoughtful language indeed… and a far cry from Eyraillian, much of which was spoken at the front of the palate, and often quickly, with words running together among the working class. A strong indication that Eyraillians were more accustomed to speaking before thinking about what they wanted to say… or the consequences of saying it. “Ar-dreth… na olinn. Is that right?” Given the Elvish prince’s subtle wince, that he obviously tried to hide so as not to insult her innocent attempt, it was a far cry from ‘right’. “By that reaction, it looks as though I just said something far worse than a derogatory form of ‘human’...” The Skyknight chuckled at her own misstep and took a breath. This time she relaxed her shoulders, and when she tried… she did not try so hard. “Let me try again. Ardreth na olinn. Better?”

It was--which came as both a surprise and a relief. Maybe there was something to be said about doing as he explained: imagining the language like an updraft of wind. Something with which Vega Sorde, who so often soared through the air, was very familiar. “I’ll be sure to keep an ear open for insults lobbed at you, as well. While your unique relationship with your family and kingdom might be exclusive of my interference, here… the last thing I wish for is my presence to make it any more difficult for you. Alright--let me give this next one a try. Just a few syllables at a time, so I can follow.”

Under Theoduin’s guidance, syllable for syllable and phoneme for phoneme, Vega repeated the phrase, once, twice in broken and segmented Elvish. The third time, she put the segments together for a single, fluid sentence, a warning that would have Theoduin’s people thinking twice before affronting her, directly or indirectly. Theoduin’s satisfied smile was all the reassurance she needed that, slowly but surely, she was learning what she needed to know. “Not bad, then? I’ll have to go over that one in my head so I can remember it. It sounds as though it is only half as many words as it would be declaring an identical message in Eyraillian, but each and every sound is a little more complicated.”

Although the grove near the waterfall offered the Eyraillian princess and the Elvish scholar relative privacy, it did not stop curious eyes and prying ears from witnessing their conversation. And it didn’t stop small hands from throwing stones, evidently, as a pebble hit Vega squarely between the shoulders. She turned to see a group of three children, who appeared to be between the ages of eight and twelve, from grinning with mischief as they had chosen her to be their target. Theoduin wasn’t having any of it, however, and he promptly said something quick and terse in Elvish in response. An admonishment, of sorts, but the details were lost on Vega. “What did you just tell them?” She asked him, as the younger of the three children prepared to throw another rock. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to dissuade them, and according to Theo, he had merely told them to ‘go away’. Frowning, Vega decided to try her own hand at it, and repeated his words in a much louder, more commanding voice.

The child holding the stone dropped it, his eyes going wide, and he murmured something hurried to his two friends. Seconds later, the trio heeded the words and scurried out of sight. “Did I say it right? I truly hope I was only telling them to ‘go away’ and not something worse. The last thing I need to be known as is the Eyraillian Ambassador that frightens children.” The corner of her lips turned upward in a grin that she couldn’t hold back. “Not sure what frightened them more. That I am a human representing a kingdom that they have reason to fear, or that they think I can actually speak Elvish.”

The vision brought a wistful gleam to Theoduin’s eye. His years in exile had granted him the closest opportunity he could ever have to that particular life, given the royal blood in his veins. Hidden away in the deep forests of the north, he had been whomever he wanted to be—the staunch academic at home, an archer amongst the conifers, a mage on the mountain slopes, a lone traveler in the village. But never an elf, never a prince, and certainly never a king.

Perhaps that was why, faced now with the task of instructing his human companion, he felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate somewhat. Here, on the mossy bank of the brook, he wasn’t the long-vanished Kyrenic miraculously back from the dead. He could simply be Vega’s teacher, and more than that, the Skyknight’s friend and ally. Theoduin was no soldier, but he could certainly arm her with knowledge—and faced with the scorn of generations of elfkind, words would do her far better than a blade.

“Our language is complex and beautiful,” the elf began, gaze wandering from the falls back to Vega. “Were our circumstances different, I would not begin your lessons with our…ugliest of phrases.” He his lips curled into a grimace, then turned upward to a sheepish smile. “But you are wise to wish to know them. Myrddin’s mistrust of humans runs deep and passionate and old, like a river whose wellspring is so distant that few think of it in the flood downstream. Unfortunately, your choice of companion will do little to tip the scales of public opinion in your favor.” He clasped his hands together apologetically.

“There are sounds in Elvish that have no equivalent in Eyraillian,” he went on, turning to face her. “We speak from low in our throats, the muscles relaxed. Imagine that the sound flows through you, rather than you generating the sound yourself. It is musical, but not so controlled as a song. It’s more like…like a breeze.” He held up his palms, summoning a breath of wind that tugged at his curls. “Variable,” he continued, tucking a strand behind an ear, “but free.” He nodded, knowing a Skyknight would similarly comprehend the workings of the wind and air. “I tell you this not just because you will learn to speak the language yourself, but because the nature of it can make it difficult to interpret the speaker’s tone until you are accustomed to its nuances. Like reading a current to know when it might spiral to an updraft, or anticipating the flow around a cloud.”

Of course, some tone was simple enough to understand—Queen Faraine had not exactly hidden away her ire, and communication was not solely dependent on words regardless. But if the Skyknight was to listen to what was said behind her back—or in her presence under the assumption she could not understand—then it was crucial to recognize when something was said with true malintent, and to what degree they meant their words. The same phrase uttered by a student emboldened by youth did not carry the same threat as one from a soldier armed with military experience. Thankfully, Vega’s position as a Sorde ensured she possessed some degree of political savvy. She would learn to detect the subtleties quickly enough.

The former prince cleared his throat. “All right. Listen,” he instructed gently, leaning closer and drawing a breath. “Ardreth na olinn. It means, ‘a slave to time’,” he explained, wincing a little at the slur. He said it once more, rolling the r’s pointedly. “You may hear it alone, as ardreth. A derogatory word for a human. I’m certain it does not surprise you to learn that there are others…” A slew of syllables fell from his tongue, and then again, more slowly.

“There may be things said which are more benign,” he went on, citing examples relating to mild curiosity—who is that, are the rumors true, how long will she stay. “You may hear things said about me as well, but propriety dictates most of them will use filinn, prince. You may hear avalinn—stranger. Or sylmare rann—‘he who betrays.’

“But for you…should you hear any of these words used in your presence, I believe we can concoct a phrase that will remind them their place. My sister has ordered you to remain here, so I see no reason why we cannot use her good name in your defense.” A flash of something akin to mischief flickered across his gaze before his expression settled to one more serious.

He met Vega’s eyes and drew a breath, speaking two lines of Elvish as swift as the current in the stream.

He repeated himself, more slowly this time. “It means, ‘I am the High Ambassador of Eyraille present under the invitation and protection of Her Majesty Queen Faraine thiel Kyrenic and Prince Theoduin. An affront to a royal guest is an affront to Her Majesty herself.’ That will be enough to put even a member of the Court in their place.” He quirked a brow. “Now, your turn. We will take it slowly, one piece at a time.”

The other scholars, who had seemingly taken a break from their focus of study to set their eyes on the foreigner, however, did not appear nearly as eager for a human to so much as walk among them, let alone partake in their sacred knowledge. Of course, this was a raw fact with which Vega was fully prepared to deal, but her companion, to her surprise, was not so eager to let it slide. Like another side of the same coin, gone was the quiet and contemplative scholar, replaced with the confidence and bolstering volume of a royal. She knew that transition well; it was one she often made, herself, depending on whether it was more appropriate to don her Skyknight armor or her royal attire, and she had already borne witness to it in Theoduin. All the same… it would never cease to shock her, the way he could reconnect with an authority he had otherwise abandoned so long ago.

“It’s fine, you know. They… have good reason to be upset at my unprecedented arrival.” She said quietly, laying a hand upon his arm as he escorted her outside. “Uncomfortable as it is, I do not blame them. They don’t know me, they don’t trust my intentions, and I have but my word and goodwill alone to convince them I am at all trustworthy. But… at a quieter time, I would like to see more of your library. It has been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to find a quiet place to be with my thoughts.”

Putting the full extent of her trust in Theoduin, Vega allowed herself to be led past trees and vibrant flora, until the inlaid path beneath their feet began to fade into grass and moss and earth. They had finally reached a point where the landscaping must have reached its end, leaving nature to take shape and form however it saw fit. In climbing vines and trees with branches that reached like outstretched arms, and a babbling brook that, as they progressed, eventually revealed a picturesque waterfall. It went without saying that even compared to the elegant decor of Myrddin’s royal estate, the space was breath-taking. “I had a place like that in Eyraille, once. When I was growing up. Although, it was a lot less picturesque than this. I spent a lot of my time at the caves at the foot of Eyraille’s vast mountains.” The Skyknight confided with a nostalgic smile. “It is where I found Aeriel; a wounded fledgling who had been abandoned by her mother and left for dead. Like you, I was forced to return before dark, however, lest… my father’s temper get the better of him for my insubordination. Though if it makes you feel any better, I wholeheartedly guarantee that my misdeeds far outweigh your own. I’d be willing to be on it, in fact; I’m Eyraillian, after all, and a Sorde to top it off. But before I confide in you just how terrible a daughter I was,” her mouth curled into a lopsided grin, “I’d love to learn your script. But I realize I might be biting off more than I can chew, were I to start there with no knowledge of your dialect. So, I suppose…”

The Eyraillian royal stared thoughtfully into the rushing current of the waterfall, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. “Much though I would like to become proficient in speaking your language, I wonder if, for now, it would benefit me more to understand what is said to me--or, more importantly, behind my back. I had no idea what those scholars at the library were saying, but they were likely counting on the fact that I cannot understand them. And, not that I doubt my safety here, but that… concerns me. Especially if I am not spend any extended amount of time, here. So… perhaps,” she turned back to the elfin prince, her pale blue eyes squinting against the sunlight. “Teach me what I need to understand, first. Things that I should perhaps… listen for. And then, teach me how I should respond--preferably, with some eloquence.”

He turned to his companion at the gentle pressure of her touch. Despite the sadness in his eyes when he met the Skyknight’s gaze, a soft smile curved Theoduin’s lips. When he spoke, his voice was low and genuine. “It would be an honor to teach you,” he murmured. “And I cannot adequately express how pleased I am that you are willing to learn…”

Suddenly aware of the attention their presence had garnered, the prince trailed off. Isolation had worn away what little tolerance he’d ever had for the spotlight, and he bristled against the weight of their stares, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. And it wasn’t just Theoduin who was the object of their curiosity; indeed, it seemed none of the young students could decide which of the mismatched pair was more fascinating…or more infuriating. The warmth and promise of the magnificent library grew suddenly cold and unwelcoming.

The scholar in him could hardly blame them for looking, but the part of him that could not deny the blood in his veins knew it would be unwise to allow it…if only for Vega’s sake. The prince threw his shoulders back and stepped forward to the Skyknight’s side, making a point to eye the nearest groups who had not yet delivered the proper formalities—platitudes he did not desire, but knew must be demanded. Before he could even clear his throat, the petrified adolescents leapt to attention. Those who stood clustered near the stacks dipped into low bows, while those seated sprang to their feet.

“I sincerely hope what you lack in subtlety and respect is made up in academic devotion.” Theoduin’s voice resounded powerfully in the chamber. Swathed though he was in emerald, he looked and sounded the part of a Kyrenic royal. “Ambassador Vega is to be treated as an honored guest. Her presence here is a testament to the strength of Myrddin and Eyraille. I suggest you show her the same courtesy you would to your Queen and her family.” The prince turned to Vega, speaking again in Eyraillian. “Come, Ambassador. We shall leave our audience to their studies.”

When she took his proffered arm, he led her outside, dropping his posture only when they rounded the side of the archives. “I never enjoyed attention,” he remarked offhandedly as they walked. “And I am especially unused to it now. I wish to explore the library, but…perhaps another time, when we will not be disturbed.” He paused near a gap in the neighboring limestone structures, the narrow walls forming an alley that led into a dense grove of trees. “There is a place I used to frequent when I was young, where I would escape to read. I wonder if it is still as I remember…”

He tugged Vega gently down the alley and into the trees, where the golden light of mid-morning shone in dappled beams to the mossy ground. The path faded beneath their feet, but Theoduin recognized the old landmarks—a jagged stump, significantly more decayed than the last time he had lain eyes upon it; an oblong mound of earth blanketed in grass; a trio of gnarled oak trees whose branches intertwined like fingers. The song of water passing over smooth stones grew louder, until suddenly they were upon it: a modest waterfall from a spring deep inside the cliffside, feeding a shallow pool that in turn fed a narrow stream that cut through the grove.

“I used to read here until the sun set,” he said softly. “I was not yet able to conjure a fire with magic, so the darkness forced me back to the palace in the evening. Faraine would be furious that I missed our drills, but I tried my best to avoid them. My title meant I was immune to the instructors’ punishments, but that couldn’t protect me from my sister.”

Theoduin chuckled lightly and lowered himself to one of the boulders near the rocky wall. “I suppose I should not admit to my boyhood misdeeds to the one who will soon be a student herself,” he commented. “I admit I haven’t the faintest idea the best place to start. Perhaps some spoken words…and then we can connect them to the alphabet.” He ran a hand through his hair, dispelling the fine droplets of mist that had settled upon the curls. “I can teach you basic phrases, but words are easier to learn when they hold meaning to the speaker. What would you like to say, Vega Sorde?”

Noting his faraway look, the Skyknight followed her elvin companion’s gaze to a plaque situated behind her, scrawled with the same intricate symbols that meant nothing to an illiterate eye beyond their beauty. But… it certainly meant something to Theoduin, who read them out loud for her benefit. So much loss, for what had been--or wanted to be--a peaceful kingdom… It is no wonder Faraine harbours such unyielding anger, she thought in hindsight, suddenly seeing the intimidating elvin Queen in a whole new light. She lost everyone… or thought she did. There is no way her brother’s reappearance after years of thinking him dead could heal wounds of that calibre…

With only a brief hesitation, Vega placed her hand on Theoduin’s arm to draw his attention away from the guilt etched into the bronze. “I can read Eyraillian books anytime. But… I cannot think of another opportunity where I might learn to read in your language.” The tug on her lips was a glimmer of a smile, at first, but blossomed full-fledged when she noted a spark of interest in her friend’s eyes. Of course the idea excited him; he was, himself, a scholar. The idea of taking on the role of a teacher, for once, was likely an opportunity that he himself had never experienced. “I must warn you, though, that I cannot guarantee that I will be a model student. At least… I wasn’t in the past. Can’t say what I might be like, now. But… if you are up to the challenge, then so am I. If…” The Eyraillian princess paused to survey the bodies that surrounded them. “If you don’t see that being a problem. Having an Eyraillian learn your script…”

The black-robed students, for the most part, had done a poor job suppressing their curiosity… and, for some, their disdain at the company their prince had chosen. For her part, she tried her best not to appear bothered, but in the end, she felt like a cat caught among a sea of highly-evolved mice that had been working and waiting years for their revenge. Feeling ‘welcome’ was most definitely a matter of atmosphere; and it was more than just the surrounding stone that had turned the atmosphere in the library cold. “You know, I am starting to get the impression they don’t like me very much… Is it the hair? Does that really give me away so easily?” Vega tried to shake off her discomfort in the guise of a joke, but when she tucked a stray russet lock behind her rounded ear, it was a self-conscious gesture. “The last thing I want is for your to stir up controversy, teaching your own sacred language to someone perceived to be an enemy. But, if you believe your sister intends to… extend my visit for some time, it could at the very least be an endeavour to occupy the both of us.”

Even in his wildest of dreams and most outlandish of hopes, he could never have imagined returning to his homeland to find this waiting for him. It was enough to render him speechless, overcome with an emotion he couldn’t name. The shelves may not have been bursting with inventory—so much material had been lost during the bloody feud with Eyraille that the thought caused a physical ache in the prince’s chest—but the promise of new books, new discoveries, and new stories shone like a bright sunrise…the warm, golden light of a new era dawning.

“The values of Myrddin have shifted in my absence,” he replied quietly. He wanted to laugh and to sob all at once. “Academia was not given priority in the face of war. Our efforts went to survival. We learned to be soldiers, not scholars. That was a large part of why I had to leave.”

He watched as she pulled a large tome from the nearest shelf. “I don’t believe our kingdoms are so different in that regard,” he admitted. “Perhaps we can build our realms’ next chapters together. Fill these empty shelves in times of peace.” Despite himself, he smiled—it seemed so natural to have the Skyknight at his side that he nearly forgot she could not read the script on the pages. “Graviel’s Registry of Aerial Flora, Volume Two,” he translated, twisting his lips in amusement. “I do not know how that managed to remain after all these centuries.” He paused. “I could teach you,” he said offhandedly. “The Myrddian language, I mean. I’m afraid my knowledge of aerial flora is limited…”

He trailed off, gazing past Vega’s shoulder to a bronze plaque embedded into the lobby stone that he had not noticed upon their entrance. He stepped past his companion wordlessly and stepped up to the dedication, his fingers reaching out to trace the surface of the raised letters.

“The Royal Kyrenic Library and Grand Archives of Myrddin,” he translated. “Erected Year 1229 in the Era of Solace, commissioned by Queen Faraine thiel Kyrenic of the Old North”—his breath caught in his throat—“in enduring memory of the Royal Fallen: her father Cyran, steadfast and true; her mother Ilyana, gentle and knowing; her sister Talaess, loyal and brave; and her brother, Theoduin, for whom this library stands.”

He stared blankly at the words, his fingertips hovering over the sloping script of his name. He lowered his arm, clenching his fist closed, and swallowed back a whole new wave of feeling. This time, it was sorrow…sorrow for his parents, for his eldest sister, and even for Faraine, whose grief for her family—for him—had manifested in books and stone. Pain flashed in his green eyes, and he turned away, back toward the shelves.

“There will be books here in Eyraillian.” He cleared his throat, continuing as though he had not seen the dedication at all. “But I am serious, Vega. Our words are a language and more. They are ancient, they are sacred, and they hold magic for some. You would be the first Eyraillian to speak Elvish in centuries. And I cannot think of a more fitting soul upon which to bestow that knowledge, if you will have it.”

"But, if we are to wait until tonight, I cannot think of a better way to pass the time than to see what you believe warrants seeing." Temporarily putting current anxieties and concerns aside, for there was nothing to be done about them until Faraine took her time to stew on her decision, the Eyraillian princess took her elfin company's arm again and flashed a more sincere grin. "I think I'd be disappointed with myself if I were to leave Myrddin without witnessing how it has achieved the impossible and blossomed anew."

When Vega had made mention of the less than warm welcome her royal Eyraillian presence had received among the Elves of Myrddin, although she was aware of the bloody shadows she must have cast in their eyes before the brilliant morning sun, she had not taken into account just how heavy that feeling of contempt would weigh on her shoulders. While they'd found a modicum of privacy within the confinement of the stone walls, after the Queen took leave of their company, it was as though time stopped the moment they set foot among the Myrddin's denizens in the open air. Word must have not only spread fast that their estranged Prince had returned, but that he was accompanied by a human--and one who shouldered the murderous blood of a Sore, at that. As the two passed by, others gave them a wide berth, though Theoduin appeared not to take much notice. Wherever he had in mind to show Vega, that destination was the sole thing on his mind.

"Well… while it can bruise our nostalgia when a place we once knew so well is suddenly unrecognizable," she began, giving Theoduin's arm a gentle squeeze, "sometimes what results from that change is better than what used to be. I can certainly tell you that stands for Eyraille. Structures have fallen--more figuratively than literally, but what is beginning to blossom from the destruction… one day, it will be beautiful." For a moment, her gaze appeared far away, as if she were not looking at anything in particular, but rather, she was looking for something. "One day. Where are we going, Your Highness? Is there somewhere in particular you're yearning to see?"

She had been expecting something of otherworldly natural beauty. Some small piece of Myrddin paradise that he remembered fondly from his childhood, a place where he would spend blessed, quiet moments and find a connection with his home. Not so unlike the crags at the bottom of Eyraille's mountains, where Vega had once sought refuge from her father, where she had found Aerial as an injured fledgling. Instead, he took her to a temple-like structure that stood as tall as some of Eyraille’s own places of worship. “What is this?” Vega asked him, and wouldn’t have guessed the answer in a hundred years.

While Eyraille’s royal library, located within the palace itself, was large enough to boast grandiosity, it could not hold a flame to the reverence for books and knowledge that Myrddin’s library did. And if the inside was a breath-taking as the outside… “This speaks wonders to the values of your kingdom,” she breathed, and pressed a hand against the sturdy wooden doors. “Eyraille’s library was entirely closed to the public until just a decade ago. The monarchy hoarded knowledge like it did money. But that such a beautiful fixture of scholarship is open and available to anyone… I daresay, even the palace’s archives in my home doesn’t hold up to this.” Of course, Eyraille’s former hatred and superstition towards any and all things related to magic largely contributed to that gap in their knowledge banks.

No sooner did he push open the grand doors that she stepped inside, and was not wrong in her assumptions: if anything, the outside did not do justice to the masonry and craftsmanship of the carpenters that had re-erected this building. From her vantage point, Vega could count at least five levels of wall-to-wall books. Long tables carved from rich mahogany lined the center, and the very roof was an ornate work of stained glass that allowed enough daylight for scholars to read until sundown. The Eyraillian princess hardly knew where to start exploring, and on impulse, reached for one of the books tucked into a shelf on her right. Immediately, she realized her folly. “I’m not sure how or why I thought I’d be able to read this.” Vega laughed, shaking her head at the Elvish script that was leagues beyond her ability to read or comprehend, and replaced the book with a nervous smile. “This is just… it’s exquisite, Theoduin. To see that this much knowledge is available to the entirety of this kingdom… it makes me realize where my own kingdom still falls short.”

If the tomes and scrolls of history had taught him nothing else, it was that even simple miscommunication could spell the end of a nation as easily as the edge of a blade. This was certainly no exception; a centuries-old war was currently held frozen by a tenuous thread of peace suspended between two youthful monarchs. And as good as Vega and Theoduin’s intentions were, all it would take to ruin them was the hubris of a slighted queen…or the fury of a worried king. “If we have heard nothing from my sister by sundown, I will request a letter be sent to Eyraille myself,” he proposed with a weary sigh.

He slowed when Vega let go of his arm, coming to a stop between a yellow rosebush and a patch of speckled lilies. Even clad in the simple gray tunic the palace had supplied her, Vega Sorde looked radiant; her red hair shimmered in the golden sunlight, and her bright eyes spoke of a hope and confidence Theoduin himself could only pretend to feel. The elf scholar may have been dressed the part of a prince—he still sported his deep emerald cloak, intricately embroidered in scrolling silver and gold along the edges, clasped at his throat with a jeweled brooch—but it was his companion who shone with the resplendence befitting royalty.

When she placed a strong hand on his shoulder, he smiled, meeting her gaze. “I would be delighted to be your escort,” he replied. “We will have to see if any of my old haunts have survived the ages.”

The elf led Vega through a baffling maze of corridors until they broke free of the walls and stepped abruptly into the sunshine on the wide pedestrian avenue that led to the heart of the city. An emotion he couldn’t identify settled deep in his chest, his pulse beating steadily against the pressure at his breastbone. Beyond the confines of the palace masonry, a vibrant community bustled in the cliffside, carved from stone and built up from rubble. In his absence, his people—his sister’s people—had thrived. Myrddin had survived, had moved on, without their would-be king; and yet he felt not an ounce of remorse, not a twinge of regret.

He was genuinely thrilled, and indeed relieved, that his kingdom had fared so well for itself. But it was a distant sort of pride—a detached pang of happiness, the sort one might feel when cheering on the hero of a plotted fable. To experience it now felt like a dream. Surely, he would wake at any moment and be greeted by the chill of his empty mountain home…

The citizens of Myrddin had long since begun their mornings, but there was a strange hush that hung like an invisible haze in the atmosphere…and he suspected it had everything to do with the presence of the two of them. Nevertheless, he guided her down the path to the main road, marveling at the change that unfolded with every step further he took. “This is almost unrecognizable,” he commented. “These structures…these were all built after I left. These blocks were in ruins.” He paused. “But the place I want to show you, the place dearest to me, should be here…”

They rounded a corner, where a group of heavily-robed adolescents nearly collided with them. Stunned, the young elves—the students, he realized with a sudden thrill—leapt back, hastily bowing at the sight of their resurrected prince.

Theoduin waved them by, however, too distracted by the structure beyond them to return their terrified platitudes.

“The library,” he breathed.

What had once been a dilapidated, completely unremarkable building had been transformed into a structure nothing short of a temple. Limestone columns thick as tree trunks flanked a grand set of carved wooden doors, topped with an ornate pediment and mosaic frieze. He hastily grabbed Vega’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs, his heart threatening to leap from his chest.

“It was barely standing when I departed,” he whispered, dwarfed and humbled beneath the height of the columns. “The last of the great scholars had all but given up on their profession.” He placed a hand incredulously against the cool stone. “They told me to learn to fight, that I needed to be a soldier to survive. I refused as long as I could, until my father forced me to finish my training. But I visited the old archives almost every night…there was an alley, just there, built over now, that I used to sneak through, down the hillside.” He shook his head. “No one had time for books. Not when we weren’t sure any of us would live to see another sunrise.”

He drew in a deep breath, looked to Vega, and then pushed through the great wooden doors.

And therein lay the problem. The possibility that Faraine seeing a familiar temperament in Vega could either mean that she would stumble upon common grounds for which camaraderie (or alliance, at the very least) might be viable, or just the opposite: she would decide, instead, to see her as a threat that was better done away with than to be reasoned with.

The best the Skyknight commander could hope for was Theoduin’s faith in his sister; insofar as he had faith that she would remain logical. And Myrddin would find no benefit in seeking revenge on a kingdom that was no longer a threat. Not as much as it would benefit from an alliance, as ludicrous as it might have seemed, considering Eyraille’s past transgressions.

“Regardless: I will not be winning her over today, and probably not tomorrow, either. I can only hope that by the time I return to Eyraille, your sister’s resolve will have softened, if only slightly…” If she lets me return in one piece, the dark thought probed the back of her mind. It was impossible to ignore the ice in Faraine’s voice before promptly dismissing her brother and unexpected visitor: You will stay. Long enough for the Elvin Queen to decide her stance. And until she came to that decision, it would be nothing more than a waiting game.

“You know, I’m not sure what concerns me more: whatever your sister should decide to do with me and my unwanted presence in her kingdom, or returning to my own kingdom to face my brother when I’ve been away for far longer than I promised.” A wry smile tugged at her lips, again. “It won’t do either of our kingdoms any good if my brother grows suspicious to the possibility I’m being held hostage. I do hope your sister has the wisdom and insight to take that into consideration while we patiently await her verdict. But, in the meantime…”

The Skyknight pivoted on her heel and let go of Theoduin’s arm, positioning herself in front of him to halt his step. The bright copper of her hair, haloed by the white light of the morning sun, shone all the more brilliantly against the cool grey tone of the tunic she’d been provided. Even dressed as little more than a commoner, by Myrddin’s standards, Vega Sorde was helpless to completely shed that air of Eyraillian royalty. It clung to her appearance just as fervently as it saturated her Sorde spirit. “Your sister did permit me freedom to roam your kingdom, under the condition that I am escorted. So if that is the case… I would be honoured for you to be my guide.” One strong hand outstretched to rest upon his shoulder, and she met his perplexed gaze with a twinkle in her azure eyes. “It has been some time since you last set foot in the place you once called home, but surely you have some fond memories. Niches and nooks that you may still hold dear. If you care to revisit any of those places… I would be much obliged to take part in looking through that window of your past. But, of course… only if your are comfortable revisiting them, yourself.”

It was why he knew so little about Vega’s brother. Caris’ bloodline before him had consisted of the very ones to destroy Theoduin’s people, and as far as the elf could determine, chances were slim that the violent pattern would break so abruptly.

“Your brother does not sound so different from my sister, hot tongue and all. Perhaps one day they will meet face-to-face,” the scholar mused. “And I suspect you are right…the two of you are more alike than you are not. I look forward to Faraine recognizing this as well.”

He had known Vega for only a handful of weeks, yet he felt he knew her at least as well as he knew Faraine…who, he realized, he barely knew at all anymore. But that particular river flowed two ways, for neither was Queen Faraine acquainted with who Theoduin had become—and cautious though he might have been throughout his life, he had long ago learned how not to back down from what he believed in. The two siblings may have navigated intrinsically different approaches, but achieving a common goal was no longer a question of which remaining Kyrenic could better wield a sword. Steel was no longer the only weapon in the arsenal.

“Perhaps you and I are both facing more than we bargained for.” His voice was thoughtful. “I’ve always thought Faraine would have been better suited to fire magic. All-consuming, ravenous, passionate. That is, until I remember that air is the fuel that gives life to flame, and it all makes sense once more.” The breeze ran its fingers through his hair as if on cue, and he almost laughed at the coincidence. “I would not imagine a Skyknight, particularly one with as faithful a roc companion as yours, could succeed if he or she did not also possess some connection to the air to feed a fire within. Even if only in spirit.”

The prince offered her a hollow smile. “Faraine will see reason even if she will not entertain forgiveness,” he went on, although whether he referred to their own strained relationship, making amends with Eyraille, or both, he couldn’t exactly say. “I have complete faith in your ability to find a foothold in Faraine’s resolve. You, Vega, may very well be the only one capable of it.”