Keep this a secret.
Her father had been explicit when warning her of her power and using it around other Generals. They would abuse it, try to goad her into joining their warband instead of heading her own. Her power wasn't honed, wasn't trained, and someone could easily train her to use it for their own purposes.
She knew he had her best interests at heart, and therefore followed his orders. Black leather gloves covered her hands now, a new sword at her side and a new shield on her back. Her eyes were constantly cast away from looking at anyone directly; she herself had noticed a new sheen to them, something brighter than before. Something she didn't want anyone else to notice.
She wasn't sure of her power. She knew that if it went unhoned it would do far more damage to those she cared about than she could afford. She also knew it was drawing her towards something- or somewhere, or even someone- she couldn't understand or comprehend. It was calling her, whispering in her dreams.
She didn't know what was real or where she was meant to be.
She had been told to go spend time with her cousins until further notice, in a tone not unlike an order. She didn't think it was worth disobeying; whatever her parents were doing, it certainly wasn't in her best interest to be around if her father told her so. She'd seen him being outfitted in his most formal attire when she left, her mother calmly helping him with the more intricate parts of the attire; she hoped whatever sh'd done hadn't been too much trouble.
Her pace was steady. She knew the way to the Arena. Her uncle had taken her there so many times it was hard to forge the path; she'd seen so many of his spectacles that she missed having them when she followed her father on orders. Then again, as of late, she'd become almost numb to the vibrant, electrified air of the arena.
Cadence had laughed when she had been told.
She lifted her head when she pushed the door of the arena open, listening to the sound of the Bluvelle triplets doing what they did best- practicing their methods. She didn't blame them; they skewed so wildly that it seemed like they weren't even related, their powers and strengths varying wildly from child to child. They may have been three years younger than her, but they were still powerful.
Cadance had long since merged her magic with the marksmanship her father had taught her, making the arena events even more spectacular when she was allowed to join in. Legato couldn't see, but his music brought strength and comfort to all those who heard it, and fear in the hearts of the enemy; Ostinato was a boy who refused to kneel, and would often wind up bleeding and near passing out from exhaustion before he stopped his training.
Somehow, she wasn't surprised to see Ostin on the ground in full armor when she walked into the main arena. Legato was too lost in his music to notice the presence of someone else, the chords of his mother's etwahl merging in a symphony that could only be matched by the Maven herself.
It was Cadence who paused in what she was doing, daggers in her hands dropping to the ground and losing the faint blue glow of magic as she ran to give Dahlia a hug. The impact was enough to stagger the older girl, though it didn't stop her from hugging the excitable marksman in the making; the three of them were possibly her favourite people to pass time with.
"Hi, Dolly!"
She cringed. She hated that nickname. When they got older, she'd get them to stop. "It's Dahlia, Legato."
"Dolly!"
"... Okay."
They wouldn't be kids forever.
She heard the laughter from the seats above; a familiar laughter, the same one of her uncle. She lifted her eyes, raising her brows as Draven himself waved at her from the seating. He was getting streaks of grey, now; he was only a few years younger than her own father, and though he'd sustained the solid shade for a longer period, he'd earned his fair share of grey streaks since the births of her cousins.
She gave him a smile and a wave. He nodded and leaned back in his chair; they had a much quieter relationship than she had with her father. She supposed that's what came with a family that spoke mostly in musical notes.
"Dolly, why the gloves?"
Her attention was snapped back by Legato. All three of them were now looking at the leather gloves hiding her hands from view, Cadence holding one hand so gently she hadn't even noticed the girl was doing so.
"Ah…. Because I hurt myself. Doctor says I can't take them off for a while."
"Didn't you hurt your arm already?"
"There was an accident in the forge."
"Oh!"
A single moment of hesitation later, and Ostinato nodded in comprehension. This was where having some form of connection with his siblings came in handy, Dahlia supposed; he could understand what he couldn't hear. She didn't understand the connection, and thought it was strange, even for natural born mages. At some point, she'd stopped caring.
They were her family, and that meant she didn't have to understand.
"Can we join your warband?"
She sputtered. It wa a question seemingly out of the blue, and she threw a look to Draven for explanation or denial; all she got in return was a knowing grin and a shrug. Her gaze went back to Legato and Cadence in confusion, though she saw no waver in their stance. Even Ostinato seemed to be looking at her expectantly, seeking an answer that she wasn't even sure she should give.
"Why would you want to join mine…? My father's is so much more experienced-"
"But you're our age. You know what we feel like. Adults forget."
"... that's true. I'll tell you what- you can come with me on the next campaign I'm sent on. When we come home, you can decide for real what you want to do."
Sometimes, her cousins drove her mad in the worst of ways. Sometimes it felt like they were younger than they were, and sometimes it felt like they wouldn't listen to what she said. But the glee in their eyes and the earnest smiles gave her some hope they listened…. sometimes.
...
Her visit was cut short not by choice nor desire. After almost three hours, Dahlia was pulled away from her cousins and her Uncle's obnoxious cheering from the stands by the very Deceiver herself, LeBlanc.
From the moment she saw the illusionist, she had the strangest feeling of crawling dread down her spine.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, darling, but you have been summoned to the the General's Table."
Dahlia's immediate instinct was to move her hand to hide her younger relatives, even as she saw Draven in the stands reach for his own axes. Nobody liked this woman- it was by the grace of the Grand General she was even alive.
"And why am I summoned to the presence of the Generals?" She couldn't help the bitter, snappy tone. Even as a mage herself, she found this woman... distasteful.
"I was told to come get you, girl, not tell you what you want."
"I have a name."
"All corpses think they do."
"I was talking about me, not you."
"Oh, that was clever."
This is another one of those 'not too sure it flows right' chapters. I'll rewrite it later, when I'm more confident in my own writing.
fun facts about the triplets;
Cadence;A sequence of chords that brings an end to a phrase, either in the middle or the end of a composition.
Legato; Word to indicate that the movement or entire composition is to be played smoothly.
Ostinato; A repeated phrase.