A.N.: Okay, I took some creative liberties with this story. It's fairly accurate, as long as you ignore the epilogue in Inkdeath. This story takes place 6 months after the Adderhead's death. Violante and her son are both dead, and a new prince has moved in to Ombra. I wrote this mainly because I felt like Ombra deserved a happy ending. It's written from the viewpoint of an AU, but she has no main relevance. I just needed a character that I could see the events through. This is my first fic, so I'd appreciate comments. Bad, good, I don't care. Just try to avoid flames. So, enjoy!
They were dying. Firesong knew this in the same way she knew the sun rose in the east. The endless fighting had broken something vital within the Motley Folk. The Adderhead, the Piper, the Milksop, even the Prince of Sighs… each leader (for wont of a better word) had worn the Motley Folk down, crushing their spirits and breaking their hearts. Now with the death of Her Ugliness and her son, the peasants were looking again to the Motley Folk to protect them if needed be from the new ruler. The only problem… they just didn't have the energy. The Black Prince was moving slowly, head lowered, shoulders slumped. The Bluejay was almost miserable in his fear for his wife, daughter and unborn child. Dustfinger was sharing Bluejay's fears, as their bond allowed them to share emotions. Baptista and Strong Man were still willing to follow Prince and the Bluejay to hell and back, but they were moving slower these days. Firesong sighed as she rose to her feet, avoiding putting weight on her leg where the soldier had slashed and torn through the muscle. Yes, she was tired too. She wanted to do what the Motley Folk used to be known for—doing their acts in the market place. No one sang any more, or danced, or breathed fire. The fighting had stolen that from them too. She was so tired of fighting. The Motley Folk gathered at the fire pit. Firesong looked around at the familiar faces. Bluejay, Dustfinger, Inkweaver, Prince, Elfbane… she could be seeing them all for the last time. There were no inspiring speeches, no words of encouragement. Everyone simply looked at each other, and then turned for the long road to Ombra.
What the Motley Folk found at Ombra… well, it wasn't what they were expecting. There were no guards on the city walls, and the gates were wide open. Everyone's hands were resting on weapons as they made their way through the almost ghost town. Open gates and empty streets were not what they were used to. However, it didn't take them long to find where everyone had gone. The market square of Ombra was packed. It felt like ever man, woman and child from the town and the surrounding villages had come to the square for this occasion. Of course, the downside was that none of the Motley Folk could see. A quick look around, a hand signal, and two dozen Motley Folk scrambled their way onto the rooftops. Firesong joined them, silently praying that her leg would hold on the way up and down. But there was no chance that she would miss seeing what was happening, so her leg would just have to hold. She felt like cheering as she reached the rooftop and looked out over the crowd. At the front of the crowd, in the shadows of the castle, was a tall wooden platform. A man was standing on the platform, flanked by guards in ceremonial dress. The man was dressed in the clothes of a rich noble. They were clean, they were patch-less, and they had so many beautiful colours. The most notable sign of the man's wealth was a rich satin cloak in a soft crimson, with a white fur lining. The man himself was unremarkable. He was maybe 40-50 years old. It was almost hard to tell. His hair suggested an elderly gentleman, with its burnished silver colour. However, he carried himself like a young man, and his muscular body made him look like he was in the prime of his life. Around his head was something reflecting the light, something gold… Firesong stiffened. This was the new prince! She took a more careful glance around for any unseen threats. No, nothing, there was just half a dozen guards and a new crest. Firesong grinned in approval as she saw it. A phoenix. The fire bird that rises from its own ashes. A perfect symbol for a city desperate for a new life. She settled down on the rooftop to prepare to listen to the new prince, this time with an open mind.
"I stand before you," the prince began, "not as a ruler, but as a man. I have seen what has happened here in Ombra." His gaze spread across the marketplace. "I have seen the poverty, I have seen the pain and fear. I have seen boys acting like men, and soldiers acting like boys. I have seen the nobility marching with their latest hunt past starving children. And what I consider to be worst of all," he continued, "I have seen your minstrels, your fire breathers, your dancers, your clowns—all forced to hide in the forest for their lives. All of this," the prince said with determination, "will change. It is time that Ombra became prosperous again. This used to be a place of culture, with illuminators and minstrels flocking here to write, to learn and to create. It's time that Ombra was rebuilt."
"And why should we trust you?" An old man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, eyes narrowed as he watched the guards for any sign of attack. "I can't speak for the others, but I'm sick of all of this! The leaders going from bad to worse, the fear, the constant changes... there are only three things that are stable here," he said, raising his voice, "and they are that the poor are oppressed, the rich do nothing, and the only ones who are worse off than us are the Motley folk! So who are you," he continued, "to say that things will be better? How do we know? Why should we trust you?" There was silence. Everyone was tense, simply waiting for the prince to react. The soldiers were ready to attack the man, the villagers were ready to run, and the Motley Folk were preparing to defend the villagers. However, the three words that were said defied everyone's expectations. "I don't know." The prince sounded old, world-weary and heartbroken. "I don't know how you can trust me, why you can trust me or even if you should trust me. I am only a man. It is possible I will make you mad, or I will react without thinking, or even reach the wrong conclusion. I'm not infallible. But I promise today that I will try to help in any way necessary." He raised his voice. "I swear this on my crown, on my crest, and on my honour."
Firesong didn't realize that she was moving at first. She scrambled with the other Motley Folk to any exit from the rooftop they could find. She slid down the trunk of a tree, and only remembered her leg when she was safely on the ground. It was one movement, but two dozen people. They began to approach the platform, and the crowd, finally noticing them, drew back. Firesong found herself at the front of the crowd, alongside the Black Prince, Dustfinger and the Bluejay. They were face to face with the new prince. The captain of the guard was clearly ready to attack them, but the prince raised his hand to prevent it. The Motley Folk and the prince looked at each other for a moment or two. The Black Prince was the first to move. His left hand made a fist which swung to his right shoulder, he bent down on his left knee, and his head bowed. Dustfinger and the Bluejay followed his lead. They were followed by Firesong, who was followed by Elfbaine and the Strong Man. One by one, the Motley Folk knelt in front of their new prince, and one by one, the rest of Ombra joined them. Firesong let herself smile. For once, Ombra was united. The future held uncertainty and challenges galore, but now the people had something precious—they had hope. Firesong looked up at the new crest. 'Yes, a phoenix was the perfect choice,' she thought to herself. A new dawn was coming. Firesong lifted her head... and laughed.