'It doesn't matter that they won't remember me. What matters is I helped.' –Cole, Former Ghost of the White Spire, Former Spirit of Compassion, Trusted Companion of the Inquisitor, Agent of the Inquisition.
It was a busy month.
The elves of the Alienage had moved down into Lowever, filling one of the Barracks and half of another, and had divided into those who were helping House Cadash pull down and then rebuild the Alienage and those that would be going through the fortress of Lowever and repairing what needed to be and clearing what was no longer needed or had rotted away in the years since the Rebellion when Highever had last used Lowever.
Giles had delighted in being moved down to Lowever as he had taken the chance to map out all the twisting tunnels that led to secret doors and passages throughout Highever and even Highever's Castle—as Kenna found out when he decided to pop into her room one night, it didn't go well.
(Lileas screamed, Kenna punched, and Giles spend an hour hidden with a bloody nose under Kenna's bed as both girls reassured everyone that came rushing that they were fine—Mirwen, apparently, had almost laughed herself into tears when Giles had come back to the barracks with bloodied nose and blooming black eyes.)
He had also been gaining the loyalty or at least willingness of the street children as little spies—he had named them little birds with a smirk because of Kenna's personal crest which had made Kenna wonder if she should call herself the Mistress of Whispers for some reason that she couldn't explain.
A room had been cleared out and made up just outside the Cousland family's rooms and been given to a dwarf that Caitlyn claimed as her employee.
Davia Cadash had dark brown hair always pulled back into a messy bun with several quills, pencils and once a ruler stabbed into the bun, and bright golden-brown eyes that gleamed with intelligence. Her hands were almost always stained with ink and covered with small scars and burns, most likely from her work as more than half of her room had been turned into a workshop for her to tinker amongst to her heart's content.
(Kenna only saw two spectres of Davia's future-self before the first faded completely away.
She had been older, shoulders burdened, face pulled with stress and eyes almost dulled as something green shone from her left hand, that future-self had been faded and blurry and disappeared completely from Kenna's sight soon after and was replaced with another faded version that seemed to get clearer as the month passed whenever Kenna cared to look.
This version was cheerful, shoulders straight and proud under a thick white leather coat with dozens of pockets, a smile curled at her lips and golden-brown eyes gleaming as her hands worked to build something or sometimes she would be writing something down that Kenna didn't see—she much preferred this version of Davia, Kenna had decided, as the first one had almost made her shudder.)
The addition of Davia Cadash to Caitlyn's personal household caused some grumbles, which meant the thirteen-year-old Lady had to conduct interviews for a human handmaiden to shut-up such grumbles—Kenna, as the youngest daughter, was spared such troubles as she was only seven and thus her choices weren't as important as Caitlyn's.
Part way through the month, Lileas began wearing a necklace—a gold chain in the form of laurel leaves that held a egg-shaped dark blue crystal near the hallow of her throat—that caused some gossip, but it was dismissed from peoples' mind when they realised the 'gem' wasn't a precious or semi-precious stone that they could recognise so the rather pretty blue coloured 'gem' was dismissed as glass.
(Mirwen had almost laughed with glee when she watched the 'gem' glow as Lileas used it to focus her magic under Mirwen's delighted and keen eyes in one of the abandoned rooms of Lowever.
A week after Lileas had successfully proved that the necklace worked, a member of the Mages' Collective had managed to slip Kenna and Lileas a pouch of coin and a hand-written tome for Lileas to study—it was hidden with the tome that Mirwen had gifted Lileas in the hidden-compartment of Kenna's bed's headboard.)
Before Kenna knew it, the month had passed and the day that her mother had been eagerly awaiting was upon them.
The day Bran was coming home.
~ The Harbour, Highever, 12th Bloomingtide 9:21 Dragon ~
The Ravencrest was, in Kenna's opinion, a truly massive ship with three towering masts for the sails and a truly giant raven as a figurehead as it anchored at one of the free docks—it towered over the smaller fishing ships and even some of the merchant ships.
The fact that Bran was expected to be the captain of it was rather mind-blogging really.
It was a ship built for war, Kenna realised easily enough.
The figurehead was built solidly enough to be used a ram and she could see several ballista affixed to the deck—no doubt the ship had dozens of crossbows and such to pick off sailors of enemy ships.
Kenna watched, fidgeting, as ropes and such were throw down to tie the ship off, and it was only her mother's sharp eyes fixed on her and Fergus' purposely heavy arm around her shoulders that stopped her from dashing up the gangplank as soon as it was lowered.
Kenna wanted to see Bran, to finally meet the brother she didn't really remember, but had dreamt about.
Caitlyn had attempted to describe Brannon to her yesterday, but as soon as she finished explaining that Bran had the same dark hair as Fergus—that Father used to had before his hair started to grey—and that his eyes were Cousland blue—the deepest and brightest blue of the ocean depth—Cait had trailed off, bothered that she couldn't continue to describe him—Cait prided herself on her knowledge before anything else—and realising for the first time that she didn't know how he had changed in the five years he had been gone.
Kenna had quickly realised it hit Cait harder as she had clear memories of their older brother, while Kenna's early memories of Bran was unclear and she only had dreams—the spray of blood across his armour, his arm attempting to bar the door as he turned to speak, Cait's call as she slipped under his arm, their father gutted like an animal, the fire reflecting in his blue gaze, the wry smile of his lips, the look on his face as he watched the dark haired mage walk around—to help her picture what her brother looked like.
"Hard to believe that little Bran is the captain of that," Fergus said, slightly impressed but somewhat baffled.
"I doubt he's that little anymore," Caitlyn mused from the other side of Kenna.
"He'll always be my little brother," Fergus scoffed before grinning at them and purposely flexed his arm to pull Kenna into his side. "Like you will always be my darling little sisters."
"This darling little sister doesn't want to be crushed against your balk," Kenna informed him as she tried to push away from him making him squawk in offense though he didn't even have the courtesy of pretending to move from her force.
"Are you calling me fat?" Fergus asked, his voice absolutely offended, and Kenna grinned up at him as Caitlyn hid a laugh behind one hand.
"Well if the shoe fits," Kenna said, a hint of taunt in her voice.
"You little," Fergus shifted his hold so he could force her into a head-lock making her yelp just before his fist begun to relentless rub against the top of her head.
"Get off!" Kenna yelped as she punched at his side and tried to kick at his legs. "You're hurting me!"
"You called me fat!" Fergus informed her, a hint of glee in his voice. "Accept your punishment!"
"Fergus! Kenna! Really?!" Eleanor called out fondly exasperated despite herself as Caitlyn moved just enough not to be pulled in scuffle between her siblings and kept an amused smile on her face as she watched. "Your brother is going to be here any moment and you decide to fight like two children?"
"To be fair, Kenna is a child," Bryce said to her in an amused undertone that earned him a look from his wife—he immediately wiped all amusement from his face and tried to make his expression stern. "Children, listen to your mother."
Eleanor scoffed, oh yes, that was really going to help.
Fergus let out a yelp as small fingers pinched at his side and tried to shift so his sister couldn't get to his side with her fingers.
"Get off!" Kenna tried to wiggle, wondering if she could get into a position so she could bite—that would stop him, she thought to herself—before she reached up and dug her nails into the arm wrapped around her.
"Ouch!" Fergus tightened his grip warningly as he reached out to pry Kenna's short nails from his arm. "Stop it!"
"Let go then!" Kenna attempted to dig in her nails more—for once in her life envious of Caitlyn's longer nails, if Kenna had nails like Cait then she would really hurt her annoying older brother.
"Well, this is a welcome I wasn't expecting," a dry voice remarked making the two siblings freeze which was followed by an almost booming laugh.
"Bran!" Eleanor called out joyously, reaching forward to pull her son into a hug and Bryce reaches out to clasp his shoulder, smiling broadly.
Hastily, the siblings let go of each other and tried to look like they hadn't been fighting as Caitlyn moved forward to greet her brother and his friend—though the familiar stormy green eyes made her think his friend was more of a cousin.
Kenna scowled as she tried to smooth her hair, ignoring Fergus as he inspected the crescent marks in his arm, and examined her other brother from the corner of her eye.
He looked short next to his friend, but only because his friend was truly massive in height and muscle. But just before he let go of Mother, she could tell he was taller than her before he took Caitlyn in his arms for a welcoming hug as Mother turned to speak with Bran's friend—Cait actually looked almost tiny in Bran's arms, something that made Kenna grimace slightly as Cait was way taller than her and she knew she would look tiny.
His shoulders weren't as board as Fergus, Kenna thought, and his frame was slimmer—a swimmer's build, something in her recognised, and she supposed that made sense for a sailor to have.
The blue he wore was a stormier blue than the rich blue that Cait favoured and the dark blue that Kenna herself favoured, she realised—no doubt Cait would have some thought about that, a meaning behind his choice, that she would tell her later—and the leather he wore was black—his friend wore the same, but with stormy green tunic instead of blue under the black leather jacket that Kenna was certain was also armoured.
There was a hint of a scruff on his face—patchy in the way she had come to recognise of those that were just starting to grow facial hair—and she remembered her dreams with the more defined scruff on more defined features—there was still a hint of chubbiness to his cheeks after all that said he wasn't yet full grown man.
So, she thought to herself, this was her brother.
She wasn't sure if he wasn't what she expected or he was exactly like she expected, and she didn't know if it mattered.
He was here, he was Bran, and he was her brother.
"Huh," Fergus was the first of them to speak. "I guess Cait was right, you're not so little anymore."
Bran raised his eyebrows at Fergus in an expression that reminded Kenna strongly of Aldous.
"Imagine that, it's almost like I've grown up since you saw me," Bran's voice was deeper than the voice Kenna just barely remembered, but not yet as deep as the voice he would have, but his dry tone was very familiar and made something in her relax.
"Brat," Fergus laughed, fondly, as he wrapped an arm around Bran's shoulders to tug him into a hug.
"Old man," Bran's lips tilted up into a slight smirk and Fergus flexed his arm threatening around Bran's shoulders.
"Don't start something you can't finish, brat," Fergus warned him, his teeth barred in a grin.
"Don't even think about it," Eleanor said sternly as Bran opened his mouth to retort. "There has already been one fight more than necessary, I will not stand for another one."
"Yes, Mother," both of her sons chorused, and Kenna grinned slightly—that was just like she remembered, she realised.
Fergus let go of Bran, and Kenna realised that it meant it was her turn now.
She couldn't help glancing back towards where Lileas was standing with Rosina and Nan and felt comforted by Lileas' encouraging smile.
Kenna was bigger, was the first inane thought that popped in Bran's head when he first saw the red-headed girl tussling with Fergus, and he almost wanted to scold himself for such a stupid thought.
Of course, she was bigger, she wasn't two-years old anymore, he sharply reminded himself as Fergus let go of him and it was only Kenna to greet him.
Bran felt surprise when he saw the uncertainty in Kenna's duel sea coloured eyes, he had never seen that look on Kenna's face. The toddler in his memory had never had cause for any doubt or simple uncertainty, and something in his chest clenched at being the cause of her doubt.
She glanced away, over her shoulder towards where Nan was standing with two elven girls—Rosina and Lileas Surana, if he remembered correctly—and the younger one—Lileas, he reminded himself—gave his sister an encouraging smile that seemed to settle something in her as Kenna returned her attention to him.
For a moment, the siblings just looked at each other—Bran didn't mind, it let him take in everything that changed in the five years he had been away.
She was still the smallest, Bran realised as he was certain that Cait had been several inches taller than Kenna was when she was that age. The chubbiness of toddler was gone—caused by Nan almost fattening Kenna up—and he could almost see the muscles beginning to be formed under her golden tanned skin—he vaguely wondered how much she burnt before she began to tan.
She had discarded the dresses she used to wear, he thought to himself, as she stood before him comfortably in dark brown trousers and a dark blue tunic—the same shade of blue that her elf friend was wearing—and her copper locks had been braided and wound around her head like a crown—so much more simple the complex braids that Cait had pulled her pale gold hair back into and secured to her head.
This was his sister, his baby sister, and Bran almost didn't recognise her.
Then her jaw set and suddenly he recognised her completely. She hadn't changed the way she set her jaw so stubbornly, he realised with a surge of affection.
And then her eyes lit up in a familiar way that made him move before he thought about it.
Kenna leaped forward and Bran snatched her from the air, pulling her close as he twisted swiftly to keep his balance as she muffled breathless giggles against his neck.
There you are, he thought to himself as he hugged her closely.
Kenna first started throwing herself at him when she learnt to climb the furniture—chubby limbs, butt sticking out and wriggling as she climbed—and in her glee had thrown off with a shout of his name.
He hadn't moved so fast before in his life, his heart had been almost beating out of his chest when he snatched her from the air and held her close as she muffled gleeful and breathless giggles against his neck.
He had wanted to shout at her, to shake her, but she had just looked up at him with her uniquely different eyes with totally trust in her gaze—she hadn't once doubted that he would catch her.
"Welcome home," Kenna whispered into his ear, her voice so much lower than he remembered.
"Thank you," Bran pressed a kiss to his sister's copper locks. "I'm home."
~ Cousland Castle, Highever, 12th Bloomingtide 9:21 Dragon ~
It was strange being home, Bran mused to himself as he leaned back in his seat and enjoyed the sight of Art and his mother talking about Ostwick and what he remembered as well as what he was most looking forward to seeing again—apart from his family—while Cait paused to think of another question to throw at him.
After the welcoming feast, the family—plus two elves and one dwarf—moved to one of the informal family rooms filled with comfortable chairs, divans and low tables.
The dwarf, Davia Cadash according to Cait's introduction, had set herself up beside the fire, pulled out a leather bound note-book and began writing with a pencil she had taken from her bun while muttering to herself.
Cait had gifted the unaware dwarf a fond smile as she sat on the leather divan beside her chair and the elf, Rosina, sat beside her before Cait had turned her blue eyes on to him—the same blue as his, the Cousland blue eyes that they shared with their father, the same blue eyes he had only seen in the mirror for five years—and began quizzing him while Rosina pulled out some sewing to do quietly as her Lady grilled her brother about his time away and what he didn't put in their short letters.
Father and Fergus had sat down across from a small table as they began to speak about how work was going—the fact that Fergus was part of the City Guard still surprised Bran when he thought about it—and he wasn't sure what Kenna had decided to do with her elf friend.
A sudden loud yawn caught his attention and he glanced to see Kenna stumble to her feet, obviously tired, and he smiled slightly as he wondered just how she curled up on Mother's lap now she was so big.
He was so certain that she would still go to Mother when she was tired, that he was caught off guard when Kenna stumbled passed where Mother was sitting without stopping and instead made a bee-line for Fergus.
"Sleepy, huh?" Fergus chuckled as Kenna didn't hesitate to curl up in his lap, pressing her face against his neck as his arms wrapped around her securely. "Bedtime for you, and little elves too."
Lileas hide a yawn behind one pale hand from where she had paused beside Fergus, having followed her Lady with a dragging gait.
"Don't let her go to sleep yet," Cait called out as she almost hurriedly stood, a trace of alarm in her blue eyes making Bran's gaze snap to her—what was going on? "She hasn't had her tea."
"Here, my Lady," Rosina interrupted as she held out a small silver flask that she had just fished out of one of her hidden pockets.
A look of relief flashed—why? —across Caitlyn's face as she reached out for it before she hurried over to Kenna, flask clasped tight in her hand.
"Drink this, Little Bird," Caitlyn murmured, and Kenna made a face as she pulled away from Fergus. "You know better."
Cait's voice was gentle, a hint of reproach in her tone, and Kenna didn't argue as she began sipping from the flask though a small look of surprise and sleepy confusion spread across her face after the first sip.
"It's warm," Kenna frowned as Cait kept encouraging her to drink it all.
"It's an enchanted flask, Lady Kenna," Rosina informed her with a slight smile, an echo of worry in her pale green eyes—not as strong as Cait's, but still there, but why? Bran asked himself in frustration.
Kenna hummed as she finished drinking, pushing the flask into Cait's hand and burying herself back into Fergus without second thought making his older brother to chuckle—Why didn't she go to Mother? Why Fergus? What happened?
"I guess I should put these two to bed before Nan comes looking," Fergus grinned as he shifted his hold of Kenna and stood easily with her now perched on his hip—there was an ease to his movements, a familiarity that told Bran that this had happened before. "Come on, little Lily."
Lileas yawned again as she reached out for Fergus' out-stretched hand and let him tug her along.
"You should have spoken up," Fergus clicked his tongue as he chided the young elf, his voice soft but firm. "You know how stubborn Kenna gets."
"Sorry," Lileas leaned against Fergus' arm as they left the room.
Caitlyn straightened up with a slightly sigh as she capped the flask.
"Thank you, Rosina," Cait told her, relief in her blue eyes as she handed the flask back. "I can't believe I forgot.." Caitlyn shook her head almost angrily at herself—What did it matter if Kenna didn't drink some tea? "Where did you get that?"
"I got it for her," Davia pipped up without looking up from her writing. "Thought it may be needed in the future," she hummed slightly to herself, "didn't expected it to be needed so soon though."
"Thank you, both of you," Caitlyn told him before she met his eyes, a firm expression settling on her face as one golden brow arched at him.
I told you things had changed, that look told him and he scowled at her slightly—yes, things may have changed, but she hadn't given him any reasons behind those changes.
All Bran could guess, it all had to do with Kenna, and Bran wanted to know just what it was—damn it, Kenna was his sister too!
"I'm tired," Cait said after a moment of silently staring at him, reading the questions in his eyes and deciding to ignore him—but she couldn't ignore him forever, he thought to himself. "Goodnight,"
"Goodnight, Caitlyn," his parents told her, Art echoing them in a rather bemused tone a moment later as Davia stood and tucked her book in her pocket and her pencil back into her bun.
"Goodnight," Bran said after a moment, stare burning against the stubborn planes of his sister's face.
You will explain, he told her with his stare and her chin tilted slightly as her lip curled back in something that could be called a snarl, but some could easily pretend to see as a smile.
No, she told him without words before she turned and left with her elven lady-in-waiting and dwarven whatever—Cait had simply claimed Davia Cadash as hers during her introduction—with a swish of her deep blue skirt.
There was an air of awkwardness that made Art shift uncomfortably as Bran gritted his teeth at Caitlyn's wordless dismissal of him, her refusal to share.
"I think we should all go to bed," Father spoke up in the stilted silence. "It has been an exciting day after all."
"Yes," Mother stood, smoothing her dress and plastering a smile on her lips to hide how the awkwardness had affected her—she hadn't been surprised by Kenna's actions, Bran remembered, she hadn't expected her precious youngest to come to her like she used to and Bran burned with questions, with worry, and it felt bitter that he had to swallow them down. "I will show you to your room, Arthyen."
Art glanced toward Bran, worry clear in his stormy green eyes, before he nodded to Eleanor.
"Thank you, Auntie," Art spoke softly as he stood.
"Bran?" Mother turned to him and Bran got to his feet.
"Sleep sounds good," Bran agreed, biting back bitter questions and swells of emotions.