"Jewel, you're not supposed to be up here."
The girl stopped short and clasped her hands behind her back, as if she hoped she could hide the fact that she was caught in the act.
"How'd you know I was here?" she sulked. Her blue eyes gleamed with surprise. "My plan was perfect this time. I strategized and everything!"
Mòrag crossed her arms—not an impatient position, but rather a gentle visual reminder that the girl had technically broken the rules set for her. But then she smiled. Jewel had almost gotten away with it. That took some doing; even during tonight's festivities, the vaults were well-guarded.
"You must be paying good attention in your tactics lessons," Mòrag pointed out, choosing to forgo a lecture. Perhaps the evening had her in a forgiving mood. "Because you did have a decent plan. Waiting until everyone was distracted with the party was the best opportunity you had to get in here without the guards spotting you. Even I didn't see you sneak off. But you forgot one of the basic rules of tactics. What do you think it was?"
Jewel bit her lip and twirled a strand of silver hair around her fingers. "Bring backup?"
Mòrag shook her head. "When you're infiltrating a restricted area, always have an escape plan. That way, if you're detected, you can get out before you actually get caught or attacked. Now, hand it over."
She extended a hand, thankful she caught Jewel before she had the chance to take her gloves off. Reluctantly, the girl surrendered her contraband; the core crystal glimmered in the dim light. Finding the canister she swiped it from was easy enough. Mòrag replaced the crystal in its case and returned it to the shelf beside the other lance Blades in the palace's collection. A poor choice, really. Jewel must have hastily grabbed the first one she could reach. Until now, the entirety of her training revolved around sword variants; wielding a lance would have upended her entire combat education thus far. When the time came, a chroma katana would suit her far better. And one day—hopefully far in the future—so would her namesake's whipswords.
With the crystal stored again, Mòrag beckoned her daughter away from the vault of core crystals. With a heavy sigh and heavier footsteps, Jewel stepped into the hall.
"So who gave me away, anyway? I made sure everyone was distracted. I even waited until the second round of champagne was served. Nobody should have seen me."
"You forget, my dear, that you were named after a very keen Blade who likes to keep an eye on you."
Jewel rolled her eyes. "Spoilsport Brighid. Always hovering and never letting me do anything. And you and Dad wonder why I like Aunt Pandy better. She at least lets me get away with stuff."
"If you didn't sneak away so frequently, Brighid wouldn't have to hover quite so much," Mòrag replied with a playful elbow jab.
"I know, I know. I just really want to be a Driver, Mum."
The look in Jewel's eyes was passionate and determined—so much like Mòrag's own when she'd first vowed to become a Driver herself. Jewel's appearance certainly resembled her father's, but she earned her stubborn streak from her mother.
"The desire to be a Driver is a good thing. And you come by it honestly. But you know the rules: not until you turn sixteen."
"But that's four years away! And you resonated at twelve. So did Uncle Niall. Why can't I? How's that fair?"
Mòrag shut the door to the vault and locked it behind them. Jewel could have her pick of any of the core crystals inside it—but not now. Today, she was innocent and determined, and her parents intended to keep it that way.
"It's not meant to be fair, dear. Your father and I agreed a long time ago that you could take a Blade when you come of age. Do you know why that is?"
Jewel crossed her arms and huffed loudly. "Because you think I'm a wimp who can't handle it," she muttered.
"Ha! Quite the opposite, actually," Mòrag laughed. "You're the daughter of the two strongest drivers Mor Ardain and Tantal have to offer. You're going to be a force of nature; I have no doubt about that."
"Then why not let me prove myself now?"
"You're only a child for so long, my little spark plug. Your father and I want you to enjoy it while you can."
"Lots of children become Drivers."
"Being a Driver is a lot of responsibility. And it isn't easy," Mòrag sighed, recalling the bittersweet years that had followed her own first resonance. Jewel was clueless about all of it. Blissfully, childishly ignorant. But she was growing up. Before long, womanhood would come knocking (and the dreaded hormones of adolescence that would probably turn their spunky daughter into a troublesome teenager). After that would come her role as Empress; Niall still intended to abdicate his throne not long after the girl came of age. Eventually, she would have to know the truth. And she would need a Blade at her side. But not quite yet.
"Shortly after I resonated with Brighid, I started getting nightmares. And they've never fully gone away," Mòrag admitted. Talking about it still ached. But that pain was duller now, more manageable.
"Drivers get bad dreams?" Jewel's voice rang with confused disbelief.
"No. What I mean to say is...Listen, Jewel, when I became a Driver, I had to face a lot of terrifying monsters far sooner than I should have. There were monsters around me and monsters inside my head. Someday, I'll tell you about them: when they arrived, how they almost defeated me, how I overcame them, and how your father, your uncle, and Brighid all helped me realize that I don't have to be scared of them anymore."
"What do you mean, monsters? Like the Tyrannotitan Kurodil you and Dad fought with Uncle Rex?"
Mòrag shook her head. Despite nearing adolescence, that remained Jewel's favorite story. Zeke always told it better, with all the theatrics that made it memorable. "Not that sort of monster. Everyone's monster is a little different. And I hope you never have to face mine."
"I don't understand, Mum."
"I'll explain it to you one day. But in the meantime, I want you to keep growing into the wisest, kindest, and bravest princess you can be."
" 'Kay."
"Now, let's get back to the party. Your uncle still wants to dance with you, remember?"
Jewel frowned—the same pouty face Zeke made when he didn't get his way. "I was hoping he'd forget about that."
"You're a better dancer than you give yourself credit for. And trust me, Niall's an excellent dancer. Just follow his lead, and you'll be fine."
Jewel nodded and trotted off, winding through the palace halls with native ease. Mòrag followed at a slower pace—just quickly enough to ensure Jewel actually returned to the party as instructed, but slow enough to savor the last few moments of quiet. The revelry hummed through the corridors as they approached. Then the dim warmth of the unpopulated hallway exploded in a burst of light and sound the moment she entered the ballroom.
Nostalgia washed over Mòrag as she hesitated inside the doorway. The great hall looked nearly identical to her own wedding reception—the Ardainian colors draped everywhere, brilliant lights that made the champagne glasses sparkle, a chorus of laughter and jubilant music, and a dazzling mass of colorful silks and satins from the dance floor. How had it been over thirteen years already?
There was, of course, one very obvious difference: the couple this party intended to celebrate. And since it was Niall's celebration, the extravagance was multiplied tenfold. And this party lacked any of the apprehension of her own, too. She and Zeke had put on an act for their guests—a performance with the tiniest shred of genuity. But this was no arranged marriage. Niall had followed his heart, and it had led him back to Lady Maeve. She'd been his first crush, and no matter how many other women he courted (an admittedly short list), she never left his mind. But true to himself, Niall had taken a very long time to propose, focusing his efforts on his country first and foremost. It took a very out of character "get on with it" from Aegaeon—of all people—to convince the Emperor to finally attend to his own happiness.
Happiness didn't quite do it justice, Mòrag decided. Bliss better described the expression on Niall's face today. Even as the Emperor invited Jewel to dance, his smile did not fade. If anything, it grew bigger. The Ardainian Inquisitor couldn't fight back a grin of her own. The Emperor and future Empress hand in hand, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers in an Elysium that was finally peaceful. No looming wars. No more mutinous Senators. No Aramach. Just an optimistic outlook for the future.
In the end, it had all been worth it.
"I'm not sure the mother of the groom should be a wallflower, you know." Zeke's voice pulled her from her quiet reverie.
She hummed in agreement. She'd rejoin the festivities eventually. "What happened to you and Pandoria showing off your dances all night?"
He smirked. "When you disappeared, Pandy volunteered to take Addam to bed. Poor little tyke was exhausted."
"It is past his bedtime. I should go say goodnight to him."
"Don't bother. He was already asleep. No joke—he passed out in the corner. Even with all this noise."
"He does take after your ability to sleep through anything." She laughed at the mental image of their boy curled up like a cat in a chair. Weddings were demanding days for eight-year-olds—even for a boy who preferred to watch his sister cause trouble than make his own.
"And like me, he can sleep anywhere," Zeke added. "So what mischief did Jewel get herself into this time?"
"She nearly added another Blade to the family."
"Again? Architect, she's tenacious. We're going to have our hands full when she's a teenager."
Mòrag shook her head. "Please don't say teenager. This wedding is already making me feel old enough as it is."
"Old? Don't talk about my wife that way. You're not allowed to call yourself old until your hair matches mine."
A few strands had already gone silver; lots more probably would turn simply from the stress of helping Jewel navigate puberty. But even so, growing old with him didn't sound so bad anymore. Not when the old voices were all but buried.
Mòrag returned her attention to the younger pair of dancing royals. As she predicted, Jewel had settled into the dancing perfectly thanks to Niall's lead. In fact, when the first song ended, the girl begged for another dance. Thankfully, Maeve didn't seem to mind that her new husband had been stolen by his so-called niece. If anything, she found it charming.
One day, Jewel would learn the truth about the man she danced with. The crown atop his head would become hers, and she would learn to rule with the same grace and wisdom. But more importantly, she'd learn the complicated history of her own birthright. Like the crown, the story would be too heavy for her now. Someday, though, Mòrag hoped that the truth would make her a better ruler. It would teach her a lesson her tutors would never give: that even broken things could be mended. That love—both filial and romantic—could bring hope to the hopeless. That the darkest tunnels had lights at the end of them.
That beauty—even jewels—could be made from ashes.
"...If given the chance, would you do it all over again?" Mòrag asked suddenly.
"In a heartbeat," he replied, not missing a beat despite her out-of-the-blue inquiry. "What about you? Would you change anything?"
How easily that answer came now. "Not a thing."
The atmosphere of the crowd changed again; the royal symphony swelled into a bright waltz. More dancers congregated on the floor, stirred by the upbeat rhythms after the slower set.
Zeke grinned, recognizing the melody. "Your favorite song. It was the first one we ever danced to, you know. At the party that started it all. It'd be a shame not to dance to it now."
She smiled and slipped her arm into his. The crowd parted to let them pass, and together they melted into the sea of ever-shifting colors.
A/N: Wow. I can't believe it. Inheritance is finally complete. When I first started writing this story on a whim last summer, I had no idea that it would turn into one of the most rewarding projects I've ever worked on. But what a journey it's been.
Even if I had just written this for myself and never shared it, I would have enjoyed this process. But you all have made it infinitely more enjoyable. Thank you to everyone who's favorited, commented, or even just followed along silently (hey, I do it too sometimes!). You've been a big encouragement. I've especially enjoyed hearing your predictions for what was coming or learning what your favorite parts were along the way. :) Whether you've been here from the beginning or you're just now finding this, thanks for joining me for this adventure. It's been my honor.
So what's next? Well...there's a decent amount of demand for a collection of fluff and one-shots in this little AU/post-canon universe I've created (especially on AO3). I fully intend to oblige that request (who am I kidding? I want it, too). I don't know exactly what form that will take or how often I'll upload it, but just know that it's coming. And if there's a fluffy you'd like to see me write, feel free to drop it in the comments. Inspiration is always welcome.
Thanks for reading. -Jeli
