Author's Note: This was hard to write, and I am still not happy with it. However, I decided it had to be done as there were some things in Reclaiming that happened that now, reading back over it, I might have done differently :/

General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

Changes

Brielbara was a gracious host, and her home was laid open to her visitors. Maiyn was grateful to her, but after three days spent in the house she began to feel restless. Venturing outside was dangerous, though; how many would still remember her face after the iron crisis?

She peeked out of the parlour window; it was a crisp, cool day outside. Brielbara and Coran had gone to fetch provisions earlier that morning, and Maiyn had agreed to keep an eye on Namara in their absence. The little half-elf had grown so much since last she'd seen her! She was wandering around now on her own feet, and stringing together words into basic sentences. And she loved Verya. The first time she'd laid eyes on the cat she'd looked so excited, padding over and flopping down on the floor next to the feline. Verya had not been quite as keen; it had taken a bit of coaxing from Maiyn, and a lot of patience, but eventually the cat had accepted the little girl and even enjoyed sitting beside her before the open fire, receiving pets and snuggles.

Maiyn turned from the window; Namara was sitting on the rug playing with one of her dolls, half-speaking, half-babbling to her in a sincere voice. The elf smiled, a hand subconsciously lingering over her abdomen.

"I think we should go into the garden for a while," Maiyn said to the little girl. "What do you think?"

Namara squealed a happy agreement, clambering to her feet and grabbing Maiyn's hand as she dragged her towards the door. Maiyn laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Wait, wait," she said, pulling the girl's cape from the coat-hook. "Put this on – it is cold outside, and your mother and father would be displeased if we went out unprepared."

Namara stood still while Maiyn fastened the clasp, and waited patiently while the ranger collected her own cloak, pulling it securely around her. Brielbara's garden was sizeable, surrounded by a large stone wall which kept out unwanted eyes. Despite this, Maiyn pulled her cloak up and over her head. You can never be too sure...

They wandered outside, hand in hand, Verya darting out beside them, and disappearing into the foliage at the side of the house. Don't leave the garden, Maiyn warned her companion. Her cat gave no response, but she was sure she'd heard. The two girls made their way along the gravelly path which wound its way towards the far side of the garden, where two apple trees stood, bleak and naked. They'd lost their leaves for winter, their spindly branches weaving patterns together. The sky above was cloudless, a remarkable blue colour which betrayed the chill in the air. Maiyn let go of the half-elf's hand and Namara skipped ahead, singing softly to herself.

Maiyn trailed after her, enjoying the fresh air after being cooped up indoors. She stretched her arms and legs, and giggled as Namara picked up a stick and declared it to look like daddy.

The first evening had been the worst. Coran had done most of the talking, filling Brielbara in on his journey south and the adventures he'd had. Maiyn had noticed that he deliberately missed out some of the juicier details; he neglected to mention his nuptials, and thankfully, he'd made no mention of Maiyn's current state. But he'd told Brielbara enough to sate her curiosity, and Maiyn had provided a brief recollection of her own time spent in Amn. Since then talk had mostly been light-hearted; discussing Namara and milestones, talking about trade at Sorcerous Sundries, or discussing the turning weather. Occasionally Maiyn would catch Brielbara giving her a sad look, but it never lingered, and the human was always quick to make cheerful conversation.

"It going to snow?" Namara looked at Maiyn hopefully. The elf looked up to the sky and shrugged.

"It will need clouds to snow. And it will need to get colder, yet."

Namara looked disappointed.

"But... yes. I think it will snow, and soon enough."

The little half-elf cheered. "You be here when it snows?"

Maiyn sighed. "I'm not sure. Maybe. It depends on how quickly the snow arrives."

"I'm gonna ask for snow tonight," Namara stated, quite seriously. "Lady Sune will give me snow."

"I'm sure she will!" Maiyn grinned. But snow... We should be safe from snow for a while, yet. The road south would be enough of a task, without it being complicated by the weather. "So do you talk to Lady Sune every night?"

Namara nodded eagerly, dropping the stick which apparently resembled Coran as her attention was drawn elsewhere. "Mama and me. Mama says Lady Sune gave me byootiful hair."

"Your hair is lovely, indeed, just like your mama's."

"Yours is messy." Namara swooped to the ground, and scooped something up. She proudly displayed it to Maiyn, who recoiled from the triumphant half-elf as innocently as she could.

"Yes, mine is," the ranger agreed. Her hair had been a mess for months, and she was too afraid to try and comb it or tame the braids. At some point she knew it was going to have to come down to a knife. "What a lovely... spider. Maybe you should put him down so he can scuttle home."

Namara squinted at her hands. "She's a she," she announced.

"Even more reason to put her down. She might have to go home to look after her babies."

Namara nodded seriously, and let the spider escape onto the withered grass beside the stone wall. "Do you have babies?"

Maiyn shook her head. "No."

"Just a kitty?"

"Just a kitty."

Namara looked thoughtful for a few moments. "Kitties are better, I think."

That evening, Maiyn retired to bed early, leaving Coran and Brielbara to speak about people they'd once both known. The air in her room was stuffy, so she threw open the window and looked out to the starry night. Dragging a chair closer, she sat down so she could still lean out, and closed her eyes to make her prayers to Fenmarel.

When she was done, she lingered for a while, enjoying the breeze. Then she stood and moved to light another candle beside her bed. A fierce pain drove through her, and for a second she feared an invisible assailant had made its way into her room. She stumbled against the table as another searing pain flared in her abdomen, the pain like nothing she'd felt before.

She shouted for help.

"Briel! Get a cleric – quickly! It's Maiyn..."

Coran ran back into the room, kneeling at the elf's side as she cried out in pain. He gently stroked the hair away from her face, tried to soothe her with words, but she didn't even seem to hear him. He looked on helplessly as she clutched her stomach, doubled over in pain, pushing away his attempts to make her drink a healing potion. The minutes seemed to go on forever until he heard footsteps on the stairway, and a young girl dressed in the Robes of Sune's church was gently pushing him out of the way.

"Others are coming," she said, calmly and efficiently making her way to the side of the ranger. "What is her name? What can you tell me?"

Coran pulled his hands through his hair. "Her name is Maiyn. She has been fine, she has been eating the same as the rest of us. I don't understand—"

The priestess nodded, and placed her hands gently onto the elf's torso. After a whispered prayer, she gave Coran a sharp look. "We will need my assistants. Find them!"

"With child? But... when?"

Coran sighed heavily. He had been awake all night, refusing to leave Maiyn's side as the Sunite clerics eased the ranger's pain as much as they could. Eventually the pain ceased, and Maiyn had looked at him pleadingly.

"Tell me it's all okay," she'd begged. He'd only been able to shake his head, and she'd closed her eyes and allowed the priests to help her into bed. She'd not pulled her hand away from his though, and he'd stayed there, all night while she slept, only leaving after dawn had broken to inform Brielbara of the situation.

"We were apart for some time," he said, feeling the need to justify it. "There was... another. But he died. In Suldanessellar."

Brielbara's hands went to her mouth. She watched him, a frown on her face.

"You told me things were complicated," she said, at length. "You are a master of understatement."

He shrugged tiredly. "It seemed unimportant. We had not... there had been no chance to discuss it. Properly."

"Does she understand what has happened?"

"She was asleep when I left. She hasn't said anything yet."

Brielbara nodded. "Well, if there is anything I can do..."

The elf nodded. "Thank you, Briel. I should get back to her."

"You should get some sleep," the human noted. "But I understand. I will ask Alice to bring some tea up for you both."

Coran nodded and hazily made his way back up the stairs. He knocked gently on Maiyn's door before entering, but there was no reply. He pushed it open gently; she was still in bed, but was sitting up and staring at the window.

"Do you wish company?"

She looked over to him and smiled a sad smile. "Please."

He pulled a chair closer, and sat next to her. Awkwardly he reached out for her hand, and they sat together in silence for several minutes. "I am sorry," he said softly. "I... cannot think how you must be feeling. But I am here for you."

His hand was squeezed. A gentle knock on the door signalled the arrival of their tea. Alice quietly placed the tray on the table beside the door, and offered a quick curtsey before she left.

"Do you want some?" he asked.

She shook her head. She was staring at the window again. She was pale – still ever so pale, but she didn't think she'd been crying.

"It is strange," she began, almost as if she knew what he was thinking. "I don't know how I feel. I had barely enough time to accept it had happened, and then... it's gone. And I know I should feel upset. I do feel upset; I feel more sadness in my heart than I ever thought would be possible. But I also feel... relieved. Relieved that I will not be responsible for bringing a child into this world, mothered by something reviled by so many." She paused, and then looked at him sorrowfully. "Does that make me even more of a monster?"

He didn't immediately answer. "No," he said, thoughtfully.

"I only wish that Xan..." she broke off at his name, choked up in her words. She took a deep breath, composed herself before continuing. "I wish that he'd had the chance to have a proper family. But this way... I think it is maybe better this way. And yet... I feel so much regret. So much anger. I don't understand why..."

Coran just listened; he didn't know what to say, how to offer his support. He didn't know how to tell her that he would have been there for her, with her, no matter what the outcome. But he knew she would need time; time to grieve, time to accept. And he would help her, as much as he could, through this.

But he felt out of his depth and completely helpless.

When he opened his eyes, it was as if he'd awakened from a dream that had lasted a century. He was lying on the ground, on a bed of leaves, under the summer sun. Trees surrounded him, graceful trunks twisting majestically up to the sky, their branches covered with a thousand emerald coloured leaves. It was so very peaceful.

He sat up groggily, unsure of how he'd came to be there. He couldn't remember much except for his name, and that gave him no clues as to his current situation. His legs were shaky as he stood, leaning against one of the nearest trees for some support. He could hear birdsong. He could smell wildflowers.

He looked down at himself. He was wearing simple clothes, a tunic and trousers, a pair of light sandals on his feet. His hands went up to his head; thick, wavy hair was what he found, delicately pointed ears sticking up through the mane.

Slowly he began to remember things.

His name was Xan. He was an elf, an enchanter. He usually wore robes... He frowned slightly, willing the memories to come back.

He was from Evereska. He could smell pine and cedar, reminding him of the tree covered mountains of home. He was important... he had duties to his people. To the People.

He heard laughter and conversation in the distance. He started walking towards it, still trying to remember. There had been a darkness, an unending darkness where he'd existed, but not lived.

He wasn't wholly sure, but he deeply suspected he might be dead. And that... that was all right.

In a pocket in Maiyn's cape, the glow surrounding the Moonblade that she'd carried since Suldanessellar wavered a few times, and then winked softly out of existence.

He made his way to her grove, a resolute determination in his gait despite his loathing of having crossed to her Plane. She had crossed the line; he was angry.

She looked up from her scrying glass as he approached, and he faltered momentarily. Gone was her haughty posture, her self-assured look. Instead she appeared almost pained.

"Fenmarel..." she said. "You must not—"

"Enough!" He raised his hand, took his gaze away from her for fear that it would only make him angrier. "We both know we have not been idle bystanders during events with the Children, but this... this has been one step too far."

"Fenmarel—"

"How could you? How could you stoop to such a level?"

He looked back to her to see her eyes widen in surprise; and then they narrowed in annoyance, in shock of his accusation. "Me? You think I am responsible for this?"

"Let us not play games, Hanali," he spat. "You made it clear from the beginning that you thought certain hearts belonged together. But this... this is more than meddling. This is intrusion into the lives of mortals."

She drew herself up, and the Hanali he recognised stood before him once more. Her look was cold. "Think of me what you want," she said calmly, "but this is not my work. I am... as surprised as you are."

He regarded her for a while, then marched past her to look within her scrying glass. He saw a raven-haired elf meandering his way through the forests, a puzzled expression on his face.

"The enchanter," he muttered, frowning to himself. "But the sword..."

"The sword was left without heirs," Hanali said gently. "I was not sure if the flame would be quenched, so I looked. He arrived here almost straight after. And his ancestors; they all appeared, one by one. The sword released them."

Fenmarel nodded. "Then some good has come of it, perhaps. But still... this should not have happened. It has not happened naturally." He looked back over to the goddess, but she avoided his gaze. "You have no suspicions?"

"The children should not be able to bear offspring of their own, Fenmarel. It is said, it is known. Yet it happened, because of a link that we cannot fully understand. I know not what happened, but I am not surprised. It just could not be."

He sighed at her words. "No, there must be more to it than this. What of Vandria?"

"Vandria's attentions are taken by the prospects of war," Hanali replied gently. "She is not involved in this. None of us are. It is... just how it is."

He looked into the mirror, watching the elf for some time before he turned and quickly walked away. "I hope you are right, Hanali," he said darkly. "For if I find that you have lied or hidden anything from me..." He turned to give her one last look. "Then you will have made an eternal enemy."