Wounds That Time Cannot Heal
A Voices Universe Side Story
Empress Alúvelin frowned as she rounded the corner of the palace corridor. She was certain she had passed this hallway not long ago, yet she was at a loss to describe how she had arrived there. She had been trying to reach her bedchamber for almost half an hour without success. Wonderful, she thought as she ran a hand through her long red tresses. I'm lost. Elsa and Anna are never going to let me live this down if they find out . . .
She shook her head at the thought of her half-sister, the Queen of Arendelle, the woman who had already done so much to help her people—to help her—despite the years of animosity between their races. Her people, the once-proud brann wielders of the western mountains, had been left without a land to call their own since he—no, she would not give that monster any shred of dignity by recalling his name—had destroyed their ancient fortress, had desecrated their Sacred Hall of the dead.
Her stomach churned with barely-suppressed rage as the memory of his atrocities burned within her spirit. When she had been forced to accept the truth of his words, she had felt her heart splinter within her breast. She had felt all hope for her people evaporate as she realized that she had no answer to the single most pressing question she had ever faced: Where would her people live?
Before she could even ask, Elsa had welcomed Alúvelin and her race with open arms. Whatever differences between Men and brann wielders still existed, they had dissipated at the word of the Queen. And so, Alúvelin had come to live in the palace of Arendelle, her people given land of their own within Arendelle's borders, free to provide for themselves, to make their own destinies once more, to live in peace.
Alúvelin's introspection ceased as she reconsidered the matter before her: just how to find her way around the labyrinth that was the palace without conceding to her sisters that she had no sense of direction. Maybe I should just listen for the babies crying, she thought to herself. At least then I could find Anna and pretend that I was just stopping in to check on them. Or maybe Arberish is around somewhere. He would—
The Empress's thoughts fell silent within her mind as her ears perceived a faint sound at the far end of the corridor. She frowned as the sound grew louder, more intense, her mind instinctively recognizing what she was hearing.
Her footsteps ringing softly as she moved through the carpeted hallway, Alúvelin gently pushed open the door at the end of the corridor, hardly daring to breathe, so hesitant to make her presence known was she. Her ice blue eyes widened, her heart aching as she recognized the figure within the small chamber.
Valanda sat in a chair in the center of the small room, her hand over her eyes, her shoulders slumped over, as if overcome with defeat. At the side of her chair lay a stack of parchment, pages scattered about in disarray. Alúvelin watched from the doorway as the young woman's body trembled as a fresh wave of sobs poured over her, tears falling from her eyes, staining the carpet beneath her feet.
"Mother?"
Valanda started as Alúvelin entered the room, the sight of her daughter momentarily drawing her from her misery. "I . . . I didn't know . . . I mean . . . How long . . .?"
"Not long," Alúvelin responded as she gently took her mother's hand, her gaze locked upon the young woman's tearstained face. "I heard something, and I . . . I was concerned. I didn't know it was you. I wasn't trying to invade your privacy."
"No . . ." Valanda's usually shimmering eyes of purest jade were now dull, bloodshot, staring into the distance as if unaware of the reality of her daughter's presence. "I just . . . I mean . . ."
Still holding the young woman's hand, Alúvelin sat in the chair opposite her. "What is it?" she asked, her voice delicate, gentle. "What's happened?"
Valanda laughed, the tone of her voice betraying the artificiality of her attempt at levity. "Nothing," she said, trying to convince her daughter that everything was fine. "I just . . . got dust in my eyes from all these old manuscripts . . ." She gestured toward the parchment upon the floor in a futile effort to convince her daughter. "And I . . . And I . . ."
Alúvelin leaned forward, her face mere inches from her mother's, her mind marveling at the young woman's flawless ivory skin, her unlined countenance, the impression that of one who had defied time itself to remain eternally youthful. Unfortunately, that is all-too-true, the Empress reminded herself. So much so . . .
"What really happened?" Alúvelin asked carefully. "Please, Mother. Tell me. It's just me . . ."
Valanda's lip quivered as her daughter's loving gaze bore into her. Finally, she could contain herself no longer. "I . . . I'm so lost . . ." she whispered. "So lost . . ."
Alúvelin frowned. "What . . . What do you mean?"
"This!" Furiously, Valanda retrieved the stack of parchment, thrusting it into her daughter's hand. "What do you see?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation. "What do you see?!"
The Empress looked over the parchment, her eyes narrowing as she took in the documents' contents. "It's a map," she said. "A map of the Four Kingdoms, as well as the political divisions of the Continent." She looked up at her mother, not understanding. "I . . . I'm afraid I—"
"Don't you see?!" Valanda snatched the parchments from her daughter's hand, her index finger tracing the landmarks. "This isn't right!" she murmured. She pointed furiously at the landmass to the north. "This is supposed to be an unexplored wasteland, not a new settlement! And the names . . ." Her finger slid to the table on the right side of the document listing the current rulers of each sovereign nation. "I don't recognize any of them! None of them . . .!"
Her voice trailed off as she began sobbing once more. The documents fell from her hand as she lost her grip on them, fluttering to the floor in much the same manner as her tears fell from her eyes.
Alúvelin's heart ached within her as she suddenly understood. Rising from her chair, she wrapped her arms around the weeping young woman, running her hand through long red hair. "It . . . It's all right, Mother," she whispered. "I understand. I understand . . ."
Valanda looked at Alúvelin, her eyes wide, disbelieving. "Don't call me that," she whispered. "I . . . I'm not worthy to be called that."
Alúvelin opened her mouth to protest, to insist that Valanda was wrong, but the young woman cut her off. "I'm not!" Valanda insisted. "How . . . How can I possibly be a mother to you? When I feel so much younger . . ." She gestured toward herself. "Am so much younger than you?!"
"You know it's not your fault," Alúvelin murmured. "Your pregnancy was so difficult for you. You nearly died . . . Would have died, had Grandmother not, in her one act of selflessness . . ."
"I wish she would have." Valanda's voice was barely audible. "At least then, the natural order of things would have been maintained. At least then, you would have . . . you would have . . ."
"I would have no mother at all?" Alúvelin pulled away, crossing her arms. "How can you possibly think that is what I would want? I have been so happy since you came back to me, Mother. You must believe me . . ."
Valanda shook her head, her hands covering her face. "Nothing makes sense to me," she whispered. "This world . . . Everything is so much different than I remember. I don't know where I belong . . . Where I fit in . . . How I am even supposed to treat you when . . . when . . ."
Alúvelin took her mother's hand once again. "Do you remember when I found you after the trial in the cave?"
Valanda winced as painful memories of the trials they had undergone in the cave within the Vindervallen raced through her mind. "I remember," she said. "I failed then, as I failed you so many times before."
"No, you didn't," Alúvelin said, tightening her grip on Valanda's hand. "You did not fail! You rejected the opportunity to experience raising me because you knew it wasn't real! You chose your real daughter over an imaginary one, even though you knew to do so would be to deny yourself all you ever wanted. It would have been so easy for you to make the easy choice, but you didn't, Mother! You didn't!"
Valanda looked her daughter in the eye, her head turned quizzically to the side. "I . . . I couldn't live a lie. No matter how perfect it may have been, it wasn't real . . ."
Alúvelin nodded. "That's right, Mother. That's right."
Valanda took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "What . . . What do you need from me, Daughter? How . . . How can I be what you need me to be, when I . . . when I am still so much a child myself?"
Alúvelin smiled. "I wouldn't have you any other way. We all need your . . . unique perspective from time to time. Elsa and Anna would say the same thing."
Valanda frowned. "There are some wounds time cannot heal, Daughter. No matter what I do, I can never make up for the pain my absence during your childhood has caused you. I wish I could fix it, but . . ."
Alúvelin leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss upon her mother's brow. "You don't need to fix anything, Mother," she whispered. "All I need from you right now . . . is you."
The two allowed silence to permeate the room, neither certain of what to say, unsure of how to proceed. Finally, Valanda spoke. "All . . . All right, Daughter. I . . . I will try . . ."
"Please."
Alúvelin helped Valanda to her feet, wrapping her arms around her waist. "Please, Mother," she whispered. "Call me that word again."
Valanda frowned. "I . . . I don't . . ."
"Please," Alúvelin insisted, her voice low. "I need to hear it. Just so I know that you love me. Just to know that, unlike Grandmother, you believe I am something precious to you. Please . . ."
Valanda nodded, silently bringing her lips to Alúvelin's ear, her hands trembling as she tightened her grip on the Empress's waist. "I love you," she whispered in her daughter's ear.
In that moment, she no longer saw Alúvelin as the tall, powerful Empress she was, her countenance forever scarred by the trauma of a childhood devoid of warmth, of motherly care. Rather, she saw an insecure, frightened woman in need of love, of reassurance, of comfort Valanda realized only she could provide. "I mean it," she continued, her hands carefully embracing her daughter's cheeks, her emerald eyes shining once more. "I love you so, so much . . . adamera."
The effect of that single word was profound. Alúvelin's eyes filled with tears as she held her mother tightly, not daring to let go, not wanting anything to separate the two of them ever again.
Time itself once more lost all meaning as they remained in each other's embrace, not caring at all what the outside world may think, its artificial cares and concerns of no consequence to them in that singular moment.
I'm not afraid anymore, Valanda thought to herself. Whatever we have . . . whatever this is, this is ours and ours alone. Distance . . . Fear . . . Time itself can no longer tear us apart. We are together again, and together we will stay.
AN: A short little Alúvelin and Valana one-shot for my fans who love these characters as much as I do. I hope this was worth your time. Please read and review. If you haven't read any of my stories, this probably made absolutely no sense to you. Of course, you are welcome to read my other works, if you would like . . .! Thank you all!