Maerad was burning. Not "very hot." Not burning up. But literally burning. She watched with a mixture of awe and horror as flames licked her arms and clouded her vision. Her skin did not wither, her eyes did not well with defensive tears against the heat. But she was burning and floating, and had not a clue where she was going.
She tried to look down, but only saw the faded green of a world hidden beyond the flames. She opened her mouth to speak, but it quickly filled with smoke. She coughed violently and shut her mouth, resigned to letting whatever force was holding her up take her where it wanted to. Looking up, the sky had a dull blue tone, partially hidden due to the fire, but Maerad also thought there were actual clouds. Maybe it will rain, she thought. And then she can be put out.
The irony of the fire was not lost on her. She was the Fire Lily, Elednor, who had cast down the Nameless One and restored the Treesong. The fact that she hadn't gone up in flames in her entire life before that point was more of a miracle than the fact that she was on fire now. She also could easily place that this was a dream, or a foredream, or something of the sort. Maerad had a weird relationship with sleeping. While she loved to lay in a soft, fluffy bed and be lost to the world, she also often experienced very realistic nightmares. Oh, and sometimes those nightmares came true. Fun.
She stopped violently, lunging forward with force, as though whatever was holding her up had suddenly hit a wall. She frowned, unimpressed with this dream and wished she could either come out of it and have a normal one or wake up. And then, as sudden as the stop, she felt an overwhelming sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. It was like a switch had been flipped and she felt tears stinging her eyes. Great, she thought, another one of those dreams. It felt as though everyone she knew and loved had died terribly and now she was all alone, adrift in the sky. It was horrible, but not a feeling she was unused to necessarily. Although everyone had not, in fact, died in a horrific way, these dreams had a way of making her feel as though that happened.
And then, she was awake. She felt the warmth of the bed, opened her eyes to a flood of unreleased tears slipping down her cheeks and onto the pillow and sheets, and sighed. These dreams often caused her to wake in panic, her fear and dread seeping over to the world of consciousness for a few unbearable moments. Sometimes she screamed and would wake to Cadvan calling her back. She had been having these dreams for as long as the pair had known each other, and yet every time she thrashed and screamed, she always awoke to a pale, distressed Cadvan, who never adjusted to her sleeping habits.
This time, it appeared she hadn't called out, for which she was grateful. The very faintest of morning light was beginning to slip into the room and she knew it was only very early morning. But, she couldn't quite shake the dreadful feeling, and slowly slipped out of the bed and onto the hardwood floor. She shivered as her bare feet touched the cold floor and the air nipped her skin. It was almost spring, so the days would be warm if there was sun, but the nights were chilly. That was alright with Maerad, who loved sleeping with piles of blankets and a window cracked just a bit.
She resigned herself to the cold, deciding not to grab a robe as she carefully tiptoed out of her room and into the hall. The candle light had long since dimmed, and with only a window at the end of the hallway, she couldn't see very well. But, she knew where she was going and quietly slipped into a room a few doors down from her own.
She didn't venture too far in, but stopped in the middle of the room to watch the form on the bed. Irrational panic set in when she didn't immediately see the rise and fall of breath, but her eyes soon adjusted and her worry subsided when she saw the blankets lift.
Cadvan was alright. That was all she needed to know. He was breathing, which meant he was alive, so she could put her stupid dream behind her and go back to bed. She turned and went the way she game, grateful for the warmth of the blankets over her once more when she got back into her warm bed. She still had a few hours before she had to wake up, and she quickly fell back into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
The birds woke her this time around, singing a happy song. As Maerad came back to consciousness, her mind slipped into the Speech for a brief moment so she could hear what the birds were saying. Sometimes they would have news or weather, but today it was mind numbingly brainless, like birds tend to be. She quickly went back to listening to the chirping.
She stretched out and rolled over to her other side definitely, before slowly picking herself up off her pillow. She had classes today, and she was excited, but she also would miss her bed until she returned that evening.
As she got dressed, she peeked out the window at the cool spring sun. Innail was beautiful, as usual, and she was glad to be back behind its walls. After defeating the Nameless One, she and Cadvan traversed the country, going to places she had never been before, picking up on her studies, and generally enjoying each other. But, every time they came back to Innail, leaving became much more difficult. So, they decided, since the roads were more friendly now, they would continue to travel often, but would settle in Innail as a sort of "home base." It was a great compromise, since Cadvan was a traveler at heart and Maerad longed for a home.
When they announced they were settling there, Silvia insisted and all but demanded they live with them. And no, she wouldn't accept any rent, so long as they helped out. It was wonderful. Silvia acted like a second mother, Malgorn was like a kind father. And, she knew that, being around their late daughter's age, she was a blessing to them as much as they were to her.
Maerad crossed the room to the closet and pulled out a simple blue dress to wear for the day. It matched her eyes and would be the perfect fit for the weather. As she glanced at her soft reflection in the mirror, her thoughts drifted to Hem, who was also studying, but had stayed in the South because he both loved it and wanted to help rebuild. She missed him terribly, but not with the same earnest and heartbreak as before. He was safe, and she knew that, and they would meet up again soon.
As she crossed the room her eyes lingered over the books Cadvan had bought her when they first settled in Innail. They were bound and stamped with the town's seal and she loved to leaf through them. Her reading and writing improved and she could effectively study for lessons and tests. She picked up the one on top and leafed through it.
Then there was Cadvan. He had kissed her in the days after the Nameless One's defeat. They traveled and joked and bickered, and spent most of their time together. But, while Maerad truly loved him, it was hard to get over the hurt she had suffered at the hands of men just a few short years before. She felt terribly about that, wanting to give Cadvan more, but their relationship was different, and Cadvan was nothing if not patient. They took things very slowly, enjoying more intimate touches and soft glances than before. Cadvan had even graduated from calling her "my dear" to often saying, "my love." And that was enough for them. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and it was no one's business except theirs as to how they felt about each other. That's why no one knew-not Hem, not Malgorn, and not even Silvia.
A knock on her door broke her of her thoughts. She set the book down and opened it, seeing Cadvan's smiling face in the doorway. His shoulder length brown hair was messy-he had obviously not combed it before heading to her room. His beard was scraggly and he would be shaving it down in the next day or two. "Maerad! You're awake!" He exclaimed in a joking way. "And dressed! What's the occasion?"
Maerad rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She shifted her weight to one foot and stuck out her hip. Complete with an eye roll, she looked utterly exacerbated, but for the small smile playing at her lips. "Good morning, Cadvan," she said in a dry, almost mocking tone. "What brings you to my door this morning?"
"Well, I was hoping I would be lucky enough to have a beautiful woman accompany me to breakfast," he said, holding out his arm. Maerad's face flushed, but she laughed.
"I suppose you'll have to find one," she responded.
"Witty as ever, I see. Not even dulled in the morning," the man mused.
"Yes, I suppose to. Anyway, yes, I'll accompany you," Maerad finally answered to his request. "But let me grab my satchel while you put a comb through your hair." She shot him a sly grin and he chuckled, agreeing to her terms. Before long they were sat at the table in the dining room, munching on light pastries and dried meat, and enjoying the warmth of the sun on their backs through the window behind them.
"How did you sleep last night?" Cadvan asked before taking a sip of his water.
"I had another weird dream," Maerad answered, feeling honest that morning. "I was floating and burning. Like, my skin was actually on fire but I wasn't hurt by it. Then I felt awful and alone. Then I woke up."
Cadvan listened as intently as he always did to Maerad's dreams. Sometimes they were nightmares, sometimes they were a vision of the future. This one seemed like the former, so he shrugged and leaned back.
"Strange indeed," he mused. "Well, it sounds like nothing more than a bad dream. I'm sorry you had it."
Maerad shrugged dismissively. "It's not as though it's your fault." She then fell silent, suddenly not feeling like talking much. Cadvan studied her face for a moment before returning to his breakfast.
"Your birthday is coming up." He noted. Maerad glanced at him quizzically before she understood what he was saying. Maerad didn't know when her birthday was, it was never celebrated in the Cot. So, a year before they had decided that the first day of spring, the day Cadvan had found her, would be her birthday. It was rather fitting as it signified her rebirth in a sense. It was her real entrance into the world of Barding and into the world beyond Gilman's Cot.
The girl shrugged. "I suppose it is," she said in a disinterested voice. Who cared when her birthday was? It didn't matter how old she was. She was still learning at the pace of child no older than twelve, but had experienced perils and gained wisdom that some don't aquire for their entire lives.
"Oh don't sound so glum! You'll be twenty one, not three hundred," Cadvan chuckled, misplacing her indifference to her birthday. He thought she feared growing old.
"It's not that, I just don't see the reason for the celebration." Maerad replied. "I know how old I am, everyone else does too. It hardly seems to matter anyway. I'm both a formidable, wise Bard and an unschooled child at the same time. Age hardly seems to matter."
Cadvan glanced over and paused. He opened his mouth to lightly argue and correct, but realized that she was right from her perspective. He had also lost interest in celebrating his birth after his parents and siblings died. But Maerad was so young and he wanted her to enjoy life.
"Think of it like this: It's a celebration of life. And Bards love celebrations of life," he finally said. "Besides, Silvia would love to plan a party, especially one for you."
Maerad wasn't sold on the whole party thing, but her heart softened at the idea of making Silvia happy. "Well, alright," she said, giving permission for a party she was never really asked about. Something felt off about it, but she couldn't place what. Cadvan smiled as much as he could-the scars on his cheek made it hard to fully smile, and when he did it often hurt. But Maerad smiled back and finished her breakfast.
"Twenty one! Oh, what a lovely age. You're such a woman, Maerad! Oh, we'll have to book the Great Hall and invite everyone! Can your brother come? We should sent word immediately, maybe he'll be up in time!" Silvia was bustling about the kitchen, checking ingredients and making lists. Cadvan had been absolutely correct-Silvia was very excited to plan Maerad's birthday party. The second she heard there was going to be one, she sprang into action and began coming up with ideas. When Maerad came home that evening from classes, she was pulled into the kitchen to make plans.
Maerad sat at the small table, an elbow on the table and her chin in her palm. She was gazing up at Silvia, unsure of if she would even get a word in otherwise. Party planning was not her specialty, and she also wasn't keen on being the center of attention, especially not for all of Innail.
"The Great Hall?" Maerad asked. "That's a little much, don't you think? Maybe something smaller." She paused. "But I would like to invite Hem." She thought longingly of her brother, who she hadn't seen in a little less than a year.
Silvia smiled over at her. "But Innail loves you." She protested lightly. There wasn't much conviction in her voice, but if she could convince Maerad, she would.
"Innail loves a party," Maerad corrected with a small smile. "For many it won't be so much about me, as a night for a feast."
The older woman laughed. Maerad, though disinterested in her own birthday, was absolutely correct about the intentions of the citizens. "Well, it's been a long winter. We could all use a party."
"Then how about a Winter's End feast, instead of a birthday party?" Maerad asked. "It's not even my birthday anyway. Cadvan picked it. We have no idea when I was even born."
"Doesn't that make it even more special?" Silvia asked, finally sitting down across from her. She took the girl's hands, her thumb brushing over the scar that replaced Maerad's two fingers. "It's the anniversary of your journey with Cadvan. It's where everything began, what? Five years ago? Now that's something to celebrate."
Maerad looked to the side with a sigh, suddenly really interested in the pots on the shelves to her left. "Yes," she finally said. "It is special. It's the most special day of the year to me. But other people won't understand that. It's between Cadvan and I." She paused. "And you and Malgorn too. Maybe Hem."
"Oh, Maerad," Silvia said kindly. "Of course, that's how it always is. My birthday doesn't mean much to many people here, but we still celebrate it. A random person doesn't feel how special the date is in the way that Malgorn does, but they're still happy to come celebrate my life. And this date will mean more than you think. Before you came, we lived in almost constant fear of the Dark. But this date marks the change of all that."
Maerad looked back to Silvia, slightly convinced, but not completely. "I still don't want to be the center of all this attention. It's tough enough being a chosen one, or fated, or whatever. I can't even take normal classes because I stick out like a sore thumb. I'd rather do something low key."
Silvia looked back at the girl with a soft expression before lifting a hand and stroking her hair. She cupped Maerad's cheek and smiled. "Then we'll compromise. We'll have a Winter's End feast for all of Innail, and mention it's your birthday there, but we won't make that the focus."
Something still felt off about this, but Maerad knew she likely wasn't going to be able to negotiate much more than that. She faked a smile back and squeezed Silvia's hand. "I suppose you'll need help with the planning of all that, then?"
I've been rereading the Pellinor series and this just popped into my head and demanded to be written. I'm 5 chapters in. I can't promise I'll be the best at updating, but then again, this fandom seems a little dead. So, in honor of The Bone Queen (which I have actually yet to read due to a demanding work schedule), here's a new fic!