"At the end of the day, a loving family should find everything forgivable."
Mark V. Olsen and Will Sheffer
Rhaegar heard an unusual, yet familiar sound, outside their encampment.
He frowned. It was nothing unusual, really. Just a portkey making an appearance with whoever happened to be arriving- possibly a messenger. Hopefully, he or she wasn't the bearer of bad news.
Sighing, Rhaegar threw aside the parchment he had been reading. A report. Nothing significant.
It had been three years since he entered the clan's military force and rapidly jumped ranks. He was now a commander. The youngest they had.
It was also four years since his sister left home. Although he had continuously pushed it from his mind- like his brother did to Feodora- he knew deep down he could never be rid of the fact- and the feelings- that she was his sister.
It hurt. It still hurt. But there was nothing he could do.
He forced it aside. It was something the brothers were very good at- forcing aside the impossibly, or at least terribly painful, and thinking and focusing on the present task.
If only Athelinda could learn that. Then she wouldn't have held so many grudges that built up like toxic fumes, bubbling in a tight space.
Rhaegar picked up another parchment. Another report. Unrest. Something was going on. Grindelwald was dead, but it did not mean that his ideas were as well. And there were still followers to be hunted and brought to justice. And the Ministries had once again left it as their work, since Aurors had no jurisdiction to do anything, outside of their home borders.
Rhaegar threw aside the parchment. False lead, he thought in disgust. Nothing. Yet the one who attacked a Muggle man, was undoubtedly a Dark Witch or Wizard. Couldn't the Auror's handle this then? If it had nothing to do with defeated but unaccepting, enemies?
Just then someone ran into the tent.
"What is it?" He asked sharply.
It was a lieutenant.
"Sir," the young man said. Despite being only a little younger than Rhaegar, he was in awe- and terrified- of him.
"They have a young woman. She arrived by portkey out of nowhere and she has a large snake!" The boy's eyes were wide. "She says she's your sister."
Rhaegar froze. All time stopped.
"What did you say?" He asked in a deadly-quiet voice which disconcerted the poor boy more than anything.
He swallowed and paled.
"Well…." He paused. "She's a very pale-skinned girl, like milk-pale, with very, very black hair, rich and deep black. Same colour eyes. And she has a…" He swallowed. "A humongous green snake."
Rhaegar shot out of the tent before he could blink.
Heart jumping around wildly in his rib-cage, the first place Rhaegar went to was the Interrogation Tent.
He burst through the flaps. Sure enough, there was a woman there, dishevelled, as if she had been drenched by the rain, and even swum in icy waters. A large snake coiled near her feet. He recognized it as Surasa.
"Athelinda," he breathed.
The others in the tent turned to him.
Athelinda stiffened and looked up. Of all the things he could have expected, he didn't expect this.
Gone was the haughty pride, the flash so familiar in her eyes. Her proud eyes could tell you whether she was pleased, enraged and so forth, because they always emitted a flash of light that appeared all of a sudden, and anyone could see it.
Not anymore.
They were haunted, so haunted it terrified the people that looked at her and rendered her unrecognizable to those that knew her. They were dull, void and lifeless. So empty, so hollow… he could scarcely believe she was his sister even if she had the same features and colouring.
Rhaegar felt himself so icy and unable to speak. Finally he swallowed, and asked, "What is the name of your serpent?"
Athelinda looked at him for a long while, then responded:
"Surasa. Though I have many more." She began listing all the names of the various snakes, what they looked like and so forth.
"Athelinda." The name dropped from his lips and he fell to his knees in front of her chair, numb, unable to speak.
"You're alive." He said finally, blankly, bluntly.
He stared at her.
She flinched inwardly. "Yes," she said numbly.
Her dank hair matted in clumps. Her skin was paler than normal and she was soaked to the bone. Her clothes were soaked. Her snake didn't look too happy either.
But it was her.
He reached out a hand, then hesitated. After how they parted, did he really think….
He moved to take it back, but Athelinda snatched it, and held onto it with such a ferocity it shook him to the core. This was not the sister he remembered.
But it was his sister.
He couldn't remember the next few moments, and neither could she, only that she was in his arms, sobbing, howling and wailing despair and hurt he could not understand. Only that he stroked her back, made soothing noises like when they were little and she was frightened or upset. While she howled and sobbed her regrets and apologies.
In the meantime, Rhaegar held her close. He didn't let her go. He couldn't let her go, so while he shushed, and stroked her hair and her back, murmuring soothing words, all the while bewildered, and desperate to find out what the hell was going on.
And grateful. He was grateful. This was not his sister that returned, any more than the girl who had turned her back and grown spiteful and malicious was his sister, but his sister had returned. She had returned.
A rush of warmth flooded through him, as she choked on her sobs, muted by his shoulder, as he held the realisation of shock, awe and joy in his mind.
His sister had returned. She was home.
The two sat there, numbly before the fire. Inside the lodge, Athelinda had told him all.
A thick woollen carpet blanketed the floor. The fire burned, and its sound of crackling flames and snapping was the only noise in the room.
Dressed in a new nightgown with a dressing gown, Athelinda had been bathed and dried, but the clothes did not hide the small swell of her belly. She was indeed pregnant.
The hot drinks stood neglected nearby. Her numb, hollow and haunted eyes were down on the carpet.
Tears had slipped for the first while, and while they still welled, the eyes were still hollow, and she did not notice her own tears.
Rhaegar was silent. Too… Well, the word 'shocked' couldn't come close to describing it. Too horrified and sick to describe, Rhaegar just stood there, his face white, staring horrified at the fire.
"More than one?" He whispered hoarsely, and sick.
Surasa shivered and curled closer to Athelinda's feet. It had nothing to do with the lack of heat- they were warm and comfortable in that regard- but she could sense what they were saying.
"Yes," Athelinda whispered, blood drained out of her. "Yes."
Rhaegar stood, and shakily took a breath.
He closed his eyes. "Did you by any chance find out his plans?"
Athelinda was silent. "He said they would defeat the ministries on their own grounds. I didn't stay to hear more than that."
"Did he suspect your knowing?"
Athelinda fell silent. "He didn't suspect anything. He didn't act-"
"Then how did you know you would be found out?" At Rhaegar's blazing look Athelinda fell silent. "We need this information. You've allowed your feelings to get the better of you. You could have saved so many if he was planning what he was planning- we could have saved so many. Why did you run? We need this information Athelinda. You do realise no one can take you simply by your own word?"
Athelinda was shocked.
"No one will believe you. He and his fellow insurgents will hunt you down if they could. Who knows what they will do to your child! And we don't have enough information, let alone evidence to prove that he is practicing Dark Magic and plotting treason! Do you really think that even the clans can react?" He stared at her incredulously. "What do you think anyone can do?"
She was shocked.
"You planned your escape route brilliantly. And I can never blame you for wanting to escape. But you didn't even bring a torn page from his books! What am I supposed to do, to save anyone, Athelinda? Even you?"
Athelinda could say nothing. Rhaegar threw his hands up in the air.
"Rest." He commanded. "I'm contacting Willamar. I can't contact Mother and Father, let alone Philomena and Winny, without letting word slip that you've arrived. I can keep everyone who saw you silent, but I can't do much else. Tomorrow, you go back home. I'll send a healer to see you, but only when you've transfigured yourself to a disguise. In the meantime, I'll have hot food and supplement potions brought to you. You could use a Pepper Up potion." He rose and smashed his fist against the wall in frustration. Then he breathed deeply.
"I'm speaking to Dumbledore," he warned. "If there's one person that can help us out of this mess, it's him."
And with that Rhaegar left the room.
Willamar arrived soon enough. His hair was wind-blown. His lips chapped from the cold, and his voice was hoarse from yelling in the wind.
"So it's you." He said silently.
Athelinda looked to the floor. Willamar followed her line of gaze and his eyes fell to her belly.
"Rhaegar did say you were expecting. When is it due?"
"Still quite a while to go," Athelinda whispered.
"I see." He seated himself before the fire. "I arrived by portkey," he explained. "I couldn't believe my ears? Is it really you? Have you come back?"
Aside from the pain, there was… something else in his voice.
Athelinda's eyes welled with tears as the pain rose so high and so agonising. "Yes," she choked. "Yes. I'm so, so sorry brother."
Willamar came to her and gathered her in an embrace.
They just held each other for a long time. Too much had been done and said to erase, but if Athelinda had to do or say an infinite number of things to make it right, she would instantly.
After a while, he pulled back. "We have to disguise you," he said. "No one can know you're back."
Rhaegar paced angrily in a side-room. The blood was rising within him.
Why was he so angry? Did he want to stop to think about them? He knew he had to, but what if it was better for him not to comprehend everything.
Seven years he spent in Hogwarts. Seven years he spent, ushering children to classes, getting them out of messes, reporting damages done, helping them with their homework. Six years he spent in the Volsung military, and how many years did he spend, playing with his brother and sisters, helping them with their homework, teaching them the finer points of Quidditch, and how to properly manoeuvre around on a broomstick, going to them when they had a nightmare, or there was a thunderstorm at night, and allowing them to sleep in his bed? How many years did he spend saving his money, or making things and carefully, painstakingly wrapping them for birthdays and Christmases?
How many years did he spend, opening his arms, and embracing them tightly whenever they were upset? How many times had he told them he loved them, and swore up and down, ever since he first set eyes on them as tiny wrapped bundles that he would love and protect them forever?
And now what?
There was the fact that Athelinda was smart enough to figure out how to get out of there, and had been meticulous in her planning. But there was the fact that she couldn't even help him stop that damned Tom Riddle and save countless millions, including her child. There was the fact that they would all stand around blind, deaf and oblivious- even accepting- towards the coming storm. And if there was one thing Rhaegar hated, it was to sit idle and blind waiting for evil to hit you and the ones you cared about.
Rhaegar picked up something- he didn't even register what it was- and smashed it against the wall.
"Damn him!" he shouted.
He could do nothing. It was too late. And there was his sister.
What did he feel about her?
Of course he still loved her and never would stop at that.
But she had damaged their family. Their trust and the bonds that held them together? For what? For arrogance and pride, no doubt. And for all his love, care and protection towards her, what did he get? A sibling rivalry.
He scoffed inwardly. So much for love and family.
And now what? Just when all was increasing in happiness, just when they were learning to smile again, just when Rhaegar had found the greatest of joys- he had gotten married- this happened. Athelinda came, bearing bad news. No, he did not blame the messenger.
But Rhaegar didn't want to be near her at the moment. He didn't think he could look at her. He didn't want to.
Athelinda had consorted blindly with a man she never even knew properly. For what? He aroused her sympathy probably, or her admiration and her ambition, more likely. Her dreams for everyone around her- and for herself. She wanted the perfect world. And Tom wanted what he thought was the perfect world, and showed her parts of that world, that she was sure to be thrilled about. And she went for it.
And she couldn't even help them. He didn't doubt her sincerity, but could he trust her? Could he even look at her?
He doubted anything would ever be the same between the two of them again.
Of course he forgave her. He always would. He loved her, and she was his sister. So, Rhaegar thought about that and took a deep breath. Exhaling, he felt better.
No matter what had happened, she was still his sister. And fool as she was, inexcusable it may be, but he could forgive her. He would not condemn her. He would not harm her, or allow her to be harmed, or even allow others to point the finger of blame on her. What Athelinda sowed she would reap, perhaps, but Rhaegar would do nothing against her. He didn't want to and he never would, nor would he allow others to do it.
He took another deep breath. His sister. He forgave her. Now he had to protect her, all of them…
And her child.
"My daughter is back," Willamar wasn't sure which parent said it, but his father had tears brimming in his eyes. His mother too was crying, tears spilling over onto her cheeks.
"And you will have a grandchild," he sighed.
His mother gasped, and his father stared at him in shock.
"She's expecting a baby." He said. "She's been through a lot, I think it would be best if I explain."
And so he did. He marvelled however, at the bond of family, even though he was a part of it.
Athelinda lay, staring up at the ceiling.
Tom.
And Rhaegar. She could not get rid of the image of Rhaegar's anger, his rage, and yet his embrace and acceptance of her.
She certainly knew, by far, she deserved a million times far worse.
Teas spilt from the corner of her eyes and down her temples, into her hair but she ignored it.
She betrayed them. She tore apart the family and threw them away as if they meant nothing to her- as if all their love…
She treated them with contempt, if not worse.
And yet, they embraced her.
She never knew what it was like to hate herself, and it was astonishing when she looked at it, how much she did now.
How much Athelinda loathed herself.
How much they suffered. And how she traded everything- all their love- away as if it was worth dragon-dung. And here she was.
She was worth less than even that.
Only now did Athelinda see her true worth- the worth of all those years of ambition, desire, glory-seeking, rage and an apparently higher calling.
Only now did she see how low she had been and was.
And about to have a child. What kind of mother would she be- to teach her son the value of family, when she knew less than a Dementor- about the ties of family and kinship? About humility, helping others and morals? Her academic achievement was worth nothing.
She was lower than filth.
Did she even love Tom then?
It's by far not my best chapter and I apologise. Yes, Rhaegar is married by now. He's been through a lot, and it's enough to make a story out of! Yes, she was foolish, planning an escape as quickly and carefully as that, but bringing no evidence- understandable, but evidence is needed for anything.
The baby will come in the next chapter.