Chapter changes: new scenes, etc.

Chapter 10: Family Bonds

For over several hours, Harry, Meldir and Taswa sat in the woods and...talked. Or rather, Harry talked, Meldir gushed and Taswa was the picture of decorum. It was frustrating, because he knew how she could be, and yet she refused to let down her guard and become relaxed in his presence. She stubbornly refused to address him by his given name, sticking with honorific titles and a respectful register. She did feel comfortable enough to correct Meldir in his manners, however, so at least that hadn't changed.

Eventually though, Harry noticed that the sun had begun to dip below the trees and the forest floor glowed with the embers of sunset. He felt a smidgen of guilt - he'd only planned on being gone an hour or two, not this long. Startling both Meldir and Taswa with his abrupt movement, he shot to his feet and turned in the direction of the palace.

"A-Araëmel-aryón, what is it?" Taswa stuttered, leaping to her feet in a crouch. She was tensed to spring, like a predator.

"Nothing!" Harry quickly reassured them, ears lowering with embarrassment at his overreaction. "I just realised how late it's gotten. I'm going to be in so much trouble…"

Meldir suddenly turned a strange mossy colour. Harry honestly could have sworn the subtle glow of the boy's skin curdled at the edges, making him appear sickly. "Oh no," he moaned, "Eruahna! What do I tell her?"

"For now? Nothing. I'll try to talk to her during or after the ball," Harry said quickly. He set off at a fast pace through the woods to the palace. "But I need to go now, before they send an army after me." He'd meant it as an exaggeration but he had a sudden vision of troops of armour-plated elves marching in tandem down the forest path with grim expressions and weapons ready, and sped up his pace.

Taswa jogged a few paces behind him. "Your Highness defied Their Majesties' will," she murmured.

Harry shot her a sour look over his shoulder. "Well, they were...they were just being totally unreasonable about it all. I just wanted a break but they kept working me like a slave, making me repeat vows I memorised days ago. I'm completely prepared, but they don't seem to care."

Taswa continued to look scandalised and Harry sighed. Perhaps...well, he could tell his words and actions were making her highly uncomfortable and considering the progress he'd made so far...perhaps he really just ought to leave well-enough alone before he ostracised her. "Never mind," he murmured.

"The Ceremony is going to be so exciting," Meldir commented with a little puff of air as he jogged. He was oblivious to Taswa's increased disapproval (or otherwise very good at ignoring it). "I can't wait."

Harry tried not to scowl. Bloody 'ceremony' again. Wasn't it just...saying some words, making a symbolic offering of blood and slapping a crown on his head? He was certain that Hermione would tell him not to be so blasé about it, but this wasn't the wizarding world where blood had power and meaning...right? And they were just words. Fancy words, but just words. He memorised them to make everyone happy, learned the motions to keep them content, but…

But he didn't mean them. At least not to the extent he thought his grandparents wanted him to mean them. He couldn't commit, body and soul, to this land and its people that he barely knew. Not...not yet at least. He needed time to think, time to go back to Hogwarts and deal with bloody Voldemort before he could even begin to think of further commitments.

Of course, he'd have to ease his grandparents into that mindset gently. He needed good, solid arguments to get them to listen, that much was certain. For now though, it was easier to simply play along.

They made it past the barracks before they ran into a two-person guard patrol. Seeing them, Harry quickly separated himself from Meldir and Taswa to keep the blame firmly placed on his shoulders alone, and waited for the inevitable explosion.

And it was a fairly spectacular explosion. Harry had maybe fifteen minutes at best before he was promptly hauled before Their Illustrious Majesties and dumped on a couch to explain himself.

So the first thing he said was, "I can explain."

The queen stared at him with a hardened expression as the guards behind him respectfully retreated and shut the door, leaving Harry alone with two angry Monarchs and no shield.

"Then you had best start explaining."

Harry shuddered. His grandmother's voice was cold and hard - not a smidgen of warmth permeated it, something that was scarce enough to begin with...but without it, she put him in mind of Snape the day Harry had snooped around in his memories. It was the same furious spark in her eyes, the same pinching of the lips. His grandfather merely looked grave and stern, but the queen...

He looked away from them both, staring at the floor instead.

"Look at us when you speak; you are Crown Prince, you do not talk to floors," said the harsh voice of his grandfather.

Harry winced and slowly raised his head again. He wished he could talk to the floor though, because looking at the two pairs of angry, glowing green eyes made sweat break out. Even after weeks of acclimatisation, the fury on their alien faces sent shivers running down his spine - or maybe that was just the sharp sting of cold that threatened the room, he couldn't quite tell.

"I-" he began, then, faltering, had to swallow to clear his dry throat, "I just needed some time to myself before tomorrow. Just to, uh, relax."

"So you abandoned you duties for your own selfish needs."

Harry sucked in a breath, fighting back the flash of anger at the unjust accusation. "No!" he replied sharply. "I mean, I did leave, but it's not like it would have mattered much if I'd have stayed and kept practising! I already know what to do so well I could do it in my sleep!"

The queen hissed - actually hissed, like a cat - and Harry jerked back in shock.

"Do not speak to me in those tones." She bit out each word like she was sinking her teeth into an unripe lemon.

"You keep practising because it is your duty to be your absolute best," the king added sternly.

"I'll be fine," Harry mumbled. "I promise. I've memorised the vows perfectly and I know exactly what I'm doing. We've been doing it for three days straight now…" he held up two fingers and pinched them together, "and I'm this close to having a break down, trust me. I needed some alone time."

The queen's features merely became pinched and the king's brow creased dangerously.

Harry groaned, wondering how he could get through to them. It was like they didn't even care about him at all - all they cared about was their precious prince and as long as he acted like a prince, they would treat him well...but the moment he stepped out of line…

He gulped in deep breaths of air, trying to prevent the burning prickle of moisture that threatened the corners of his eyes. It wasn't fair. Why could everyone else have loving families? Why was Harry stuck with a family that never seemed to care about him?

He felt furious with himself for wanting it so badly still, after everything that had happened. When was he going to grow up and let go of that selfish dream he'd kept since his youth?

The king was saying something, so Harry tried to focus.

"...your duty comes before all else - you live for the people, not for yourself. Do you understand?"

The burning of angry tears increased. "That's not fair," he mumbled, voice catching at the end. And suddenly, like a dam bursting, he could no longer keep it in. "I didn't ask for this! I don't want this! Why can't you just have another kid and leave me alone!"

There was a deathly still silence. The kind that seized a room in a heart-stopping grip and made your whole body tense. Harry slowly allowed his gaze to settled on each of his grandparents' faces. The king looked pale and angry, his hair shifting around him with the pressure of his ire. The queen though...she was so utterly still. Eyes cold, mouth such a thin line he knew immediately that she was beyond fury - just like Aunt Petunia used to get before she threw him in the cupboard. Harry gulped and pressed back into the cushions behind him. This was...bad.

The queen delicately folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head to the side, chilly eyes staring straight through him. When she spoke, it was without much inflection, but with that low tone one adopted when beyond approach. "I do not know how much has yet been explained to you, so, I will give you the facts and you will have one opportunity to repent your words."

Harry swallowed again, throat dry. That didn't sound good. Already he was regretting opening his mouth.

"With the death of Indilaira, the wards weaken. You know about the wards?"

Harry jerked his head in a quick, frantic nod. He knew about the wards, sort of. From what he understood, the borders of Elwýn were fairly absolute. Set with ward stones, there was a protective barrier, much like the wards around Hogwarts, which kept out most threats, although from what his teacher had told him, the wards were weak or non-existent around certain trade points and towns, thus the need for trained troops to keep back their 'enemies'. But he didn't see how this was relevant to some dumb inheritance ceremony.

"Then you know they weaken. Attacks on our borders increase, lives are lost. One of us is not enough to hold them steady."

Harry blinked. That almost sounded like...like the queen herself was holding up the wards. But that was ridiculous. One person alone could not power wards big enough for a country. He shook his head, eyes wide. "I don't understand."

Some of the rigid fury seeped out of his grandmother's eyes as she regarded him speculatively. "Then your declaration was truly made in ignorance. I am feeling magnanimous, so I will give you a chance, Araëmel."

Harry nodded slowly.

She glanced briefly at her husband and the king suddenly took over after touching his wife's hand ever so gently with the tips of his fingers. "The Blood of Caladharan is sacred." He said this proudly, with a hint of awe. "Only the Blood of Caladharan can power the wards. So long as there is one monarch and one heir, the wards will remain stable, but with the death of Indilaira, they have slowly weakened. The Inheritance Ceremony must be performed as soon as possible to stabilise the barrier, lest it fall and our land be overrun with savage beasts."

Harry realised he meant the radagu shapeshifters that were the Elwý's main enemy. Although he knew they weren't particularly friendly with the dragons, either. No one was friendly with the dragons.

"You are irreplaceable," the queen stated gravely. Her eyes narrowed coldly. "You would do well to remember this. We cannot have another child so easily. Even if, by some miracle, I conceived again, it would be too late. The wards would fall long before that, and our people would die by the dozens." She spat her words with sharp precision. "We are not so easily repopulated."

Harry felt like someone had just pulled the rug out from under his feet and revealed an endless black pit. How could he respond to that? Better yet, why had no one told him? How could he refuse the ceremony now, knowing that if he did, the wards would fall and lots of innocents would die? He couldn't in good conscious let another war spring up if he could prevent it by simply performing a basic ceremony.

It appeared the blood wasn't quite as symbolic as he'd assumed.

"I…" he began. He wet his lips and sighed. He wanted to slump, put his head in his hands, anything, but he'd only get a sharp snapping reprimand. "I am sorry. I didn't know."

His grandmother's posture didn't relax, but her lips loosened a tad more and her eyes creased in just a tiny little smile. "Good. Do not forget your duty again, or you will be punished. As it is, you will remain the rest of day and tomorrow in your room and perform each duty asked of you with decorum and grace, is that understood?"

Harry agreed, reluctantly. He hated that he had no choice in this anymore - at least not any choice he could comfortably live with.

"And," his grandfather added harshly, "you will try harder in your lessons. Your tutors' reports are disappointing."

This was something Harry could protest, and protest vehemently he did. "What?Try harder? Do you even know how hard I've been trying? I've never tried so hard in my life before!" Frustrated tears actually prickled at his eyes, giving the vibrant green a potent, glossy sheen, and dampening their normal glow.

"DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME!" His grandfather was on his last straw. His face could have been cut from marble it was so stern and cold.

Harry couldn't swallow the words that burst forth. "There you go again! All you do is criticise me when all I've been trying to do is try as hard as I can so you'll be pleased with me! But you barely even look at me sideways unless I do something wrong and then you get mad!" He reached up and scrubbed his face, trying to hide the tears. He missed the slight flash of emotion that crossed his grandmother's face as he did so. "A-and I can barely keep anything straight in my head because it's too much and you've got me taking so many classes and what good is music and singing going to do me right now? I can't sing to save my life! And I'm a terrible dancer! But there's too much to remember and I'm trying to focus on what's important but I'm not Hermione!" Harry was pretty sure he was just spouting nonsensical gibberish by this point. He ranted to his hands, clenched into white-knuckled fists on his lap. Which is why he never noticed his grandfather until the elf was sitting next to him and placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

Harry almost jumped, and he sucked in a startled breath, coughing and choking on his next words."W-what?" he stuttered.

"Araëmel…"

Harry stiffened, sure he was going to be reprimanded now. After all, breaking down and yelling like that was hardly suitable behaviour for a prince. "I'm not Merlin," he whispered. "I can't do everything. Why does it have to be me? Why am I the one who has to do it?" He wasn't talking about royal duties anymore. He wasn't sure what he was talking about now. Everyone, maybe. Everyone and their expectations. He was the Saviour. He had to defeat Voldemort. And now...now it was only he who could keep war at bay, keep elvish lives safe. And it just wasn't fair. He really wasn't Merlin. He was just...Harry. Just Harry.

His grandfather's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Araëmel," he said it more sternly this time, "you were born to this, you cannot escape the power of your Blood. You and only you are fit to rule."

Harry's sight was a bit blurry and he blinked rapidly to clear it. He glanced at the hand on his shoulder and didn't know how to respond. His grandfather didn't understand.

"What if I'm actually really terrible at it?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head just in time to see the Queen sit on his other side. A warm breath of air brushed past his face and then seized it, pulling it gently towards her, until her own hands could reach out and caress his cheeks. Harry held still in surprise.

"You will not be," she murmured, studying his face. "The Blood of Caladharan runs in your veins. Your potential is great. Elwýn will be in safe hands."

Harry stared at her, revelling in the touch of her fingers on his face, touching him like she actually cared. But when he analysed the truth behind her words, he wanted to scream and cry all over again. Blood and destiny and all that rubbish - that's what she really cared about.

He pulled away, turning his head. "Blood doesn't mean everything. What about me as a person?"

"As a person?" the king asked him from behind. Still holding his face, the queen creased her eyebrows together softly.

"All you care about is blood, but what about me? H-Araëmel?" Harry tried to pull away, but his grandfather's hand tightened unbearably, and the air suddenly seemed like molasses. He couldn't have moved even had he wanted to.

The queen's fingers clenched around his jaw almost painfully, and she turned his face forcibly until he was gazing into her eery eyes. "We care," she said harshly.

Then he could move again, the king's hand released his shoulder, and he was suddenly pulled against his grandmother, whose delicate hands reached around his back and hugged him for the first time.

He froze, unsure.

"You are doing well. Your words have shamed me, but you must understand we do only what we think is best for this country. Being a ruler means sacrificing personal wants for the sake of your people. But this does not mean we do not love you. You are all we have left of our daughter. You are our hope. If we have been pushing you, it is because we know you have the potential to be great."

This time, when the tears spilled over, they weren't because of anger or sadness.

A third hand joined the two on his back and rubbed small circles there soothingly. His grandfather's voice took over, "Araëmel, abandon these insecurities you have. We forgive your childishness, for we understand that you are still young, and you have centuries to learn what is required of you. There is no need to rush - we have been overeager. For now we will be content with performing the ceremony. Tomorrow, you will make us proud and you will protect your people."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I promise I won't do something like that again. I just...I was overwhelmed." Their previous words were encouraging. He dared to ask, "Can we cut down on some of the lessons?"

"Yes, child," murmured the queen, stroking a cheek. "After the Ball. If you can prove you have learned enough of the basics, we will remove some of your responsibilities. We shall prioritise. Etiquette first, I should think, and history and geography. We shall cut down on your physical and magical training - there will be time enough for that later-"

"No!" Harry burst out, cutting her off mid-sentence. Her hand immediately dropped from his cheek and her face pinched in shock at his audacity. Hurriedly, he continued, before she could reprimand him. "Sorry! But...can't we prioritise training and magic? Isn't knowing how to fight and defend myself more important? I'm good at that."

His grandmother grew contemplative. She exchanged a glance over Harry's head with her husband and they seemed to have a silent conversation.

"You would be well protected by the Guard, regardless."

"But still," Harry insisted beseechingly. "It's better if I can protect myself. The other things should matter less."

It's just like the Elwý to focus on etiquette over defence, he thought sourly. He had to make them understand that etiquette would mean jack-squat in a battle with Voldemort...without mentioning having to battle Voldemort. He didn't know if they knew about the prophecy or not, and regardless of whether or not it still applied to him, he knew that Voldemort would come for him and they would fight. And demonstrating the proper way to acknowledge a social inferior would do nothing to protect him from a dark curse.

"I agree that your safety is paramount," his grandfather mused. "We cannot lose you like we lost your mother."

"And my father," Harry pointed out. His neck was beginning to develop an ache from having to play ocular ping-pong between the two monarchs sitting on either side of him. Sure enough, the queen added, "He is not of the Blood, his loss is saddening, but his life was never vital to the ruling of our nation," and Harry whipped his head to the side in shock at her callous words.

"I imagine that, like myself, he would have sacrificed himself for you and your mother's safety, for the Blood of Caladharan must continue," stated the king sternly.

Harry turned his head again. His grandfather's face was grim. He touched Harry's shoulder softly. "He is missed and his sacrifice will never be forgotten."

Harry nodded, slightly mollified, but still sore over the dismissal of his father's importance. It smacked too much of death eater propaganda for his peace of mind. "And my father's family? Are they gone as well?"

The queen sighed. "No. Astawlahtar's parents, of the Upper House of Galentaur still live. They reside in Daer Galentaur, the Green Forest. Your father was their only child, they are currently heirless."

Harry frowned. He rubbed his neck as he considered this startling news and his ear flicked up in thought. "Wait, so, they're alive? Do they want to meet me?"

Harry's grandfather pressured his shoulder until he turned his head. "That would not be advisable," he stated, circumventing the question entirely. "Travelling away from the Palace is dangerous."

"So, lessons in defence," Harry pointed out, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. "I want to meet them. Why can't they come here?"

"This discussion is for another time," the queen announced decisively. "Your concerns are noted." She brushed her hand over Harry's head again, small air currents smoothing all the strands of his hair back into place. At the same time, her own curls shifted, like slowly weaving snakes. "For now, focus on the Ceremony."

Harry leaned into the touch, not quite appeased, but heart less burdened. They really did care - the unflappable, uncompromising queen was even listening to his opinion now. Was this what it was to have a family? If so, he would have to try his best not to mess this up. He still had to go back and destroy Voldemort once and for all and fulfil his promises to the wizarding world, but for now he had one thing to master and one thing only. "Yes. I will do my best."

"I am sure you will," smiled the queen. It was a beautiful smile, soft, and it struck him then the close resemblance to his mother. It was the same lovely smile he'd seen in all those photos.

"Although your dancing leaves much to be desired, young one," said the king.

Harry stared at him. Had his grandfather just made a joke? "It's not that bad," he protested.

"It is quite bad," replied his grandfather.

Harry winced.

"You have time to perfect it," encouraged his grandmother. "They will not expect perfection quite yet. Never before has an Heir Ceremony been performed so early, your age gives you margin for imperfection, however the Ceremony itself must be perfect."

Harry nodded. He understood why they were so insistent about that fact now. It would have helped had someone taken the time to explain it beforehand, but Quenah had been dismissed for the days leading up to the ceremony and Harry had not thought there could be more to it. "I promise, I could do it in my sleep."

"Excellent."

His thoughts began to stray after that, contemplating the past few minutes and the abrupt attitude change. It was strange to think that his grandparents weren't the horrible monsters that his Aunt Petunia had been making them out to be, but then again, they had banished their first born daughter.

Harry bit his lip, wondering if it was safe to ask. His grandmother must have sensed the question hovering on the tip of his tongue, because, as if she couldn't get enough of touching him, she reached up and stroked back a few strands of hair and asked, "What is it?"

Harry pondered the far wall as he spoke, not quite ready for flashing green eyes if his question was badly received. "Why did you banish Aunt Taswafáne? She...she's always been so bitter and hateful. And she hates anything magical, which is strange, because isn't she magical?"

The queen drew in a sharp breath and her hand retreated abruptly. The king sighed. Before they could answer, Harry blurted, "And, I have a few memories of Mum and Dad. Mum didn't want to go back to Elwýn at all. She said...she said once that there would be no more crowns in our family. Why did they hate it here so much?" While he had the chance, he wanted the truth. He wanted answers - real ones.

Harry had an idea of course. The way Elwý society was run left much to be desired - but he still couldn't understand why his parents or his aunt had run. Why would they run to a world strife with war and full of people like Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Tom Riddle? Had they never gone, he might have grown up surrounded by family - loved.

...But I never would have met any of my friends...Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Nev and Luna...the Weasleys, Sirius...there are so many people I can't imagine never having met. He couldn't comprehend being able to give them up. So maybe it was all for the best.

But that still didn't give him any answers.

"We give you much leeway, young one," said his grandfather almost fondly, but with a slight tinge of ire.

Harry turned a questioning gaze on him. He knew he was being extremely forward - but they were being uncommonly forthcoming. By this point, what did he have to lose?

The king's ears twitched as his eyebrows drew together."For the liberties you have taken with us, we would have punished Indilaira quite severely."

Harry held his breath. Define severely, he thought.

"Indeed," murmured the queen, "and it is that which drove her away from us. We did not realise what we had lost until she was gone. We will not make the same mistake again. We have learned from the past." She reached out and grasped Harry's chin again, looking him in the eye. "I am queen, but I am also a mother, and recently a grandmother. Before, I did not realise the difference. I do now." Harry thought that maybe her eyes looked sad as she watched him. "You wish to know why we banished the only daughter we have left? Because it is what she wanted. You understand that she could never be heir and we cannot and will not acknowledge any of her human heirs. She brought it upon herself. She married a human; she broke the law. Perhaps we could have simply brought her back and punished her, but instead we let her go, because it was her desire - her plan. Do you understand?" She turned her gaze to the far wall and out the window, beyond the clouds.

He thought he did. For some inexplicable reason, Aunt Petunia was happier in her magic-less, cookie-cutter human life than she was in Elwýn. Passed over for heir, she probably had nothing here but the mocking eyes of the Upper Houses constantly reminding her that she wasn't good enough. And if his grandparents' previous treatment was any indication, she had likely been ignored by them as well. And say what you would about Vernon, but he did adore Petunia and their rotten son. In a way it made sense. What was that saying again... 'If you love someone, let them go'?

As Harry gazed into the eyes of his grandmother the queen, at that moment, he realised that no matter what she appeared to be on the outside, on the inside she was still very much 'human'. The front she put up as a ruler buried her feelings in a padlocked ice-box with no hope of escape. But the loss of her child - Harry's mother - had broken those locks and Harry could finally see true emotion in her expression.

He turned to look at his grandfather. His mouth was turned down in the corners in a sad smile. Harry knew he felt the same way.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling overwhelmed by the raw emotion the revelations had uncovered in him.

"It is not your fault, Araëmel," said his grandfather softly. "None of this is. You are just a child. Not even twenty."

Harry looked between them both, at their sad, drawn eyes, and suddenly made a promise to himself - and them. "I promise I won't leave you. No matter what. Mum may be gone, but you still have me."

The Queen chuckled - a genuine one. "My gratitude, my young prince."

Harry felt a childish delight and love well up in him and he smiled shyly at them both.

"You will have to forgive us if we do not show emotion well," remarked the king. "But I think we should like to try."

Harry didn't need to be told, he already knew they were trying their best - and that he should too.

"Don't worry. In return, I'll try to be better."

"Then perhaps you ought to return to your room and finish preparing for tomorrow?" suggested his grandmother, though the tone of her voice implied it was more of an order.

So Harry nodded abruptly, reaching up to wipe any residue of tears from his face. He stood up and turned to face them, trying to look serious, but he only received a raised eyebrow from the king.

Harry merely straightened his rumpled clothes and intoned solemnly, "Yes, Your Majesty."

The queen smiled her cat-like smile.

No, you are not hallucinating. This is an update. Gasp. And a year sooner than the last one, even.

This chapter drove me as crazy as the last one. I re-wrote, then deleted, then wrote again the scene at the end. Harry feels too OOC to me, but at the same time I'm forcing the poor boy through a lot of emotional upheaval and there are a lot of other external and internal factors involved. I decided to just bloody post the chapter and let you all give me feedback. If I need to change something before I get around to chapter 11, then I can. So I would really appreciate feedback. You know, if you're still reading, which, at this point, I heartily commend you for your titanic patience.

FYI, I know I don't keep this account/profile as updated as I should, so if you want confirmation that I'm alive, check my AO3 account. I update more frequently on AO3, as of recent. AO3 also has a working link to my Tumblr. I have no idea what's up with this site and its broken hyperlinks, but...you can find my under the same name on AO3 and the links on THAT site actually work...

Cheers,
Ria

Posted: 2 Oct 2015