So while I was at a block for plotting the sequel to The Girl History Forgot, this idea came to mind. I never truly accepted that Elsren died in the books and this came out of that denial. Enjoy! Comments are always greatly appreciated!
Elsren coughed up another lungful of seawater and gave a pained whimper as he clung to the board underneath him. He wanted his mother. He wanted to be home with her and his sisters, where he would be warm and dry and safe. He didn't like it out here at sea, where he was wet, his clothes were torn, his skin was dry and cracked because of the salt. Where all he had between him and the depths of the sea was a mere piece of wood—the only thing that remained of the ship he had been on. The young noble was hungry and his throat hurt from the salt water he had accidentally swallowed when he had been fighting for his life. He was also tired but too scared to sleep. What if a wave pushed him off his board while he slept?
The luarin boy coughed again. How long had it been since the storm? Since the waves that had separated Elsren from the rest of his companions? What had happened to the others?
The sea was calm a few hours later; the calmest it had been since the storm. Elsren would have slept then but he thought he saw a fin cut the surface of the water. He knew what that meant. Sharks.
The four-year-old made sure that no part of his body was hanging off of the board. It was uncomfortable and he nearly fell off a few times but his muscles were glad to move somewhat. He hadn't realized how numb he had grown.
A possible shark sighting made Elsren reluctant to fall asleep. It wasn't a bad thing though. If he had fallen asleep, he would have never have seen the ship, nor heard the voice on the wind.
When he was sure that the ship wasn't a dream, Elsren attempted to wave his arms to draw the attention of those working on the ship.
"Help!" he cried. "Please help!"
Even to him, his voice sounded pathetically weak and quiet. However, he couldn't scream any louder. His throat hurt too much.
Through some miracle, his voice had been loud enough and someone had heard him. A rescue boat was sent out to retrieve the four-year-old. Elsren sobbed in relief as he was lifted off of his board and into the boat. He barely heard the comments of the sailors.
"So young—"
"Shipwrecked?"
"How in Mithros' Name—"
As the boy was taken on to the ship, he could only think about getting to see his mother again. He had to let her know that he wasn't dead. It was through his thankful tears that he heard the voice on the wind.
"She's already going to be angry enough with the death of the other. I'll leave you alive for now. You certainly fought hard enough for it. Maybe I'll tell her in a few years once things have settled down and you're no longer a threat…"
Elsren didn't understand and it seemed like no one else had heard the voice. The crew members around him were too focused on getting the salt washed off of him and getting him calmed down to where he could speak. The boy coughed violently and one of the men knelt before him, holding a flask of fresh water. Elsren drank it greedily, forcing the water down through his painfully dry and salt-scratched throat. After a few large gulps, the boy's tiny stomach revolted, making him throw everything he had just drank on his torn clothes.
"Easy there," the man said, moving the flask out of the way so the water wouldn't be contaminated by the vomit. "Were you shipwrecked?"
Elsren nodded.
"My name's Elsren," he managed to say before coughing again. He gestured for the water and this time drank it slower.
"From the Isles?" Elsren nodded again. The sailors traded sympathetic frowns.
"I'm sorry, Little Elsren. I wish I could tell you that we were heading that way but we're not. We can't bring you home. We're on a Tortallan ship and we've been ordered home."
Tears stung the boy's eyes. He got to his feet and ran clumsily to the ship's railing. He only got a few steps before an arm wrapped around his waist and held him still.
"Let me go!" he screamed, beating at the arm that held him back. He ignored the pain in his throat. "I want to go home! I want my mother!"
Elsren got neither of his wishes. Ten days later, the ship pulled into a Tortallan harbor with Elsren still on it. The boy sulked by the railing, out of the way of the sailors. He didn't want to be in Tortall, with its strange food and cold weather. He wanted to be in the familiarity of his home, with his mother and sisters and the household servants.
"Come on, Little Elsren," a voice called to him once the ship was docked and the goods unloaded. "You can come home with me."
The speaker was the sailor who had given Elsren the water. His name was Jonathan, he told the boy, named after King Jonathan of Tortall. A sign that he was to be a king among sailors. That had gotten a smile out of the four-year-old.
"I want to go to my home," Elsren whined, dragging his feet. "I want my mother!" He had been repeating the words nearly nonstop since his throat had stopped hurting.
"I know," Jonathan said with a sigh and knelt in front of the boy. "But how about we make a bargain. Come home with me and in a few weeks, when we return to the Copper Isles, I'll take you with me. You'll be home soon enough."
The young luarin nodded reluctantly, pouting as he did so. He didn't want to wait a few weeks but it was better than forever. He really had no other choice.
A few weeks came and went and still Elsren remained in Tortall with Jonathan and Jonathan's mother. By the time trading between the Copper Isles and Tortall started up again, the captain of the ship that had rescued Elsren had died of a fever. The ship was renamed The Gliding Sun and was sold to a merchant looking to start trading with Carthak. Jonathan had been forced to find a job on another ship and the only job he could find put him on a trading route between Tortall and the Yamani Islands. Elsren had cried and had thrown a fit when Jonathan broke the news to him. It was bad enough that the other children made fun of him and didn't believe his stories. Now Jonathan was breaking his promise. Elsren didn't understand why he couldn't just get what he wanted. He always had before. Why not now?
After a few years, Elsren wasn't sure he wanted to return to the Copper Isles. He had grown accustomed to life in Tortall and he had found the big brother he had dreamed of having in Jonathan. Brothers were more fun that sisters, he believed. Not that he could remember much about his sisters anymore. By the time he was ten, Elsren had forgotten most of his life in the Copper Isles. He knew he was from there but he couldn't remember faces or names anymore. He just had the vaguest of memories.
By the time he was twelve, Elsren was running errands for the merchants that set up their stalls on the street where he lived. Through the errands, he started learning the basics of running his own shop.
When he was fifteen, Elsren fell in love with a merchant's daughter. Her father was a raka man that had fled the Isles before the revolution had started. Risana had been five when they had come to Tortall. The following winter Elsren and Risana were married. Elsren's father-in-law was relieved that his daughter had married someone that was Isle-born. It didn't matter that Elsren was luarin and Risana was Raka. Risana's father would take a luarin from the Copper Isles over a Tortallan any day.
The months following Elsren's eighteenth birthday were the hardest for him since coming to Tortall. His adopted mother had died of the summer fever and a few weeks later Elsren had received news that Jonathan, along with his shipmates, had died at sea in a late summer storm. For the first time in years, Elsren had nightmares of his time at sea.
With no adopted family left in Tortall, Elsren persuaded his father-in-law to return to the Copper Isles to start a new life. It didn't take much; his father-in-law hated the Tortallan weather and customs. There were new opportunities in the Isles for them and life was easier for the raka under Queen Dovasary's rule. Besides, Elsren and Risana were expecting a child and wanted it to be born in their homeland.
The move was completed in a few months. A week after moving to Rajmuat, Risana gave birth to a healthy daughter, who was named Winna at Elsren's suggestion. The young father didn't know why but the name had stuck with him for years.
Aly examined the reports in front of her a month after the family had moved to Rajmuat. Her interest was peaked. The details in one of the reports were unbelievable but also too coincidental to be untrue. A widowed raka man had moved back to Rajmuat after a few years abroad. He had opened up a spice shop, assisted by his daughter and son-in-law. The daughter had just given birth to a half-raka daughter and ran a school at night for children that lived nearby. However, it was the son-in-law that had attracted Aly's attention. More specifically, the name. There weren't many luarin that went by the name of Elsren.
The timeline was perfect enough. He was nineteen, the age that her Elsren would have been. He had been rescued at sea at the age of four, a few days after the storm that had killed Dunevon.
And he had just named his daughter Winna.
It was enough to make Aly curious enough to check it out herself.
The Queen's Spymaster went to the spice shop in disguise as a Tyran merchant. It only took a few minutes to confirm her suspicions. She could see enough of Winnamine and Mequen in the man.
"Kyprioth, dear, we need to talk," Aly said cheerfully as she left the shop, hoping the god was in the mood to talk. He still turned up now and again. The wind sighed around her and when Aly turned her head, Kyprioth was at her side. The god glanced boredly at the shop that Aly had just come from.
"About that?" he asked knowingly. "What's there to say?"
"You left him alive?" Aly questioned. "You made it seem like he was dead."
"He was a fighter, just like his sisters and mother. He didn't want to die and you were going to be angry enough. He was a risk but I made sure that he would forget after a few years away."
"He's still a risk," Aly realized.
"Not if no one knows," Kyprioth replied. "Even he doesn't know. What's one more secret?"
The god disappeared and Aly glanced back at the spice shop. She would keep an eye on the situation but Kyprioth had a point. No one had to know. Aly would enjoy seeing what sort of man Elsren had become and maybe she could suggest to Chenoal to start going to this particular spice shop in the future.