'All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and am not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'
The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien
Aine stood beside her mother, dressed in black and the clan colors of green and blue. Her wild curls had been pulled back and tamed, so that she did not look entirely identical to the boy who lie in the bearing was proud: back straight, shoulders squared, head erect. At her side, her hands clenched and unclenched as a lone tear betrayed her pain by tracing a trail down her cheek.
The mission had been meant to be simple. The Northern Pass had been plagued with bandits, and it had become imperative that the road be made safe. Despite the constant danger to unarmed travelers, a small contingent of troops should have been able to take care of the threat. For the Prince and his Shitennou, it should have been a training run. Instead, there had been an rebel ambush, and now her brother lie in state.
As much as she hated it, she did wish that another contingent had been sent. She hated herself for it-knowing that someone else's brother would be laying there, another's mother would be weeping. Likewise, the claim that only one having been lost was a blessing fell flat.
The funeral dragged on indefinitely. Fionn had given his life to save the Prince. Therefore, despite his youth, he was given every possible honor. Even the King honored him with a speech that Aine did not hear.
Aine knew that it had not been the Prince's fault that her twin died. The Prince had not killed Fionn. It had not been the Prince who decided that this mission would be a good training exercise. And yet, Aine did blame him.
Looking over at him, she saw that the Prince was weeping without any concern for royal dignity. She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing as she watched. He honored Fionn with his grief, but Aine was not sure he had any right to do so. Fault or not, the Prince was the reason that her twin, her friend, and her companion even before birth was dead.
Finally, the seemingly endless speeches did come to an end.
Aine took her place in the procession following the casket to the shore. She watched without seeing as nobles, soldiers, priests, and others offered small tokens, whispered words, or wordlessly touched the young hero. Only when the King and Queen blessed him did she pay any attention, and then only to glare bitterly as they paused over the casket, whispering words no one else could hear. How easy it must for them since it was not their son.
Three boys, not much older than Fionn, took longer than those who had come before. Long had she heard tales of them, Fionn's "brothers." Aine leaned forward, trying to hear their goodbyes. The crashing waves and the wind made that impossible. Silently, the Prince took Fionn's hand and placed a single rose in the casket. He glanced back at her before moving away, and Aine thought she saw a trace of guilt in his eyes before broke contact.
Then it was her turn.
Her resolve wavered and burst as she moved to him; tears spilt freely down her face.. Finn's curls, a touch more golden than her own, framed his face. Despite what she'd always heard he did not look like he was asleep, but she did want to shake him and wake him up.
"You idiot. You weren't supposed to give your life for him until you were old and grey. And without you, who will fight with me, or race with me over hills? There's no challenge in beating the other boys, you know." She laughed softly, though it was a hollow, pained sound. "I'll miss you."
Aine looked up, away from the face that was so like her own. She saw the Prince not too far from her, watching. She sighed. This time it was she who broke the eye contact as she looked at Fionn again. "I suppose you'd not want me to hate him, huh?" She wiped a tear from her cheek as a sob escaped.
Closing her eyes a moment, Aine sighed. Then, she placed a small dagger in Fionn's hand, folded over his heart. She gently squeezed the hand, looking at him one last time. "Don't stir up too much trouble in Elysian, but have fun."
Moving aside, their parents took her place, and Aine felt her heart break all over again. Sobbing, her mother smoothed Fionn's curls and touched his cheek. Aine could not hear the words, but she was sure her mother sang a last lullaby to her son. Their father tried to maintain an expression of pride as he smiled down at his son, one hand resting on his wife's shoulder to offer support. However, his eyes, and the way his free hand clenched and unclenched as her own had earlier, clearly displayed his grief and pain to one who knew how to look for it.
Once her parents joined her, the casket was placed upon the barge that had been prepared for it. She felt her father's hand clasp her shoulder, and she accepted the strength he offered her.
The barge was pushed into the sea, and it took everything she had to not turn away as archers fired flaming arrows onto it. Only she, her parents, and his brothers in arms-including the Prince-watched until the flame could be seen no more.
Having donned a set of her brother's clothing, Aine strapped her own sword to her side before heading toward the salle. Her family was to continue as the guests of the High King for at least a fortnight, and she was determined to make the most of the time.
The night before, she had lain awake with the images of the burning barge haunting her. Interspersed in that vision were the sound of her mother's screams when they first learned of Fionn's death, Fionn bursting with excitement and pride when the stone first designated him as Zoisite, sparring with him, listening to his tales when he'd came home for a visit...
And, for some reason, the look of grief and guilt in the Prince's eyes.
At the door, she reached up to touch the pendant she wore, a gift from Fionn. It was simple: a green and red stone in the shape of an arrow. "Give me the strength to do this."
She took a deep breath and opened the door. She did not expect, only days after Fionn's death, to find them training, but she did not know where else to start. What greeted her was not training-there was no sword-fighting, no running laps or the sprints Fionn used to call "suicides," no strength training, no target practice.
Instead, Endymion sat on a bench, staring at an object he was holding. Ilias-a tall Arabian with long white hair which was not staying neatly in its queue-was hacking away at a dummy without any control or discipline. Jing, who was only a bit taller than Fionn had been, wiry, and with blond hair, stared at an energy ball floating over his hand as he paced back and forth. Matthew had auburn hair he did not even try to tame, and the muscles of an ox on a body almost as tall as Illias' and now alternated between looking at the sky, mumbling, and beating at the wall.
Feeling like she had invaded a sacred space-imposed herself upon their private grief-Aine started to leave. Though it was her twin they mourned, she felt out of place and irreverent.
"Wait! Aine!"
Surprised, she turned to see that while it had been Matthew that had called to her, all four were now looking at her. "I didn't mean to interrupt; I'm sorry. I'll come back later." She gave them a small smile. "You should know, Fionn always spoke highly of all of you. I know you already know this, but you were family to him."
Gently clenching whatever it was he held, Endymion stood, "Aine, please. Your grief is no less than ours." He extended a hand to her.
"I..." After a moment's hesitation she nodded and moved toward them. "Thank you."
Ilias moved to stand behind Endymion. After only a moment, Jing and Matthew also joined them.
Jing smirked lightly, though the pain in his eyes was still clearly evident. "Dressed like that, you look just like your brother."
She took a deep breath as she nodded, and remembered why she was there. Aine placed herself directly in front of Endymion. "That's why I came. I know your grief is still fresh, but I know my brother, and I know what he would have wanted."
Dropping to one knee, she drew her sword and held it out before her in both hands. The blade had been polished until it was reflective, but the scratches and the dings would reveal that this sword was not for show but had seen conflict. "Prince Endymion, Heir to Terra, Light of Elysian, I pledge myself to your service, to protect you and to put your life before my own. I will serve you regardless, but I would be honored if you would allow me to serve in my brother's place, to continue his work, to honor you and him."
The four boys stared at her, Jing openly glaring and Matthew's brow furled.
Ilias was the first to speak: "This is not how it works. Nor is it Endymion's decision as to whom next takes the mantle of Zoisite."
Aine raised her head, her jaw clenched, and she met Endymion's eyes. "No, but he can request that I be given the first chance, an equal and fair chance. That if the Stone accepts me, I will take my brother's place."
Jing shook his head, "Would you risk depriving your parents of both their children? They've already given their son. Would you have them give their daughter as well?"
Still Endymion remained silent, and Aine smiled slightly. "My parents would understand that I do this to honor Fionn. They would be proud." They'd also argue with her and try to talk her out of it, but she knew they would eventually accept that this was something she needed to do.
Matthew said, "You realize what we do is not easy. It's not playing around in the barn-it is hard work. A normal day is non-stop training, and if you were to be accepted no mercy or quarter would be shown to you."
Aine broke eye contact with Endymion long enough to roll her eyes. "You think Fionn did not tell me all of that? If Fionn's twin were a boy, and he had come to you with this same offer, not a one of you would have hesitated. You'd be treating me as a brother in arms before the Stone had a chance to weigh in. All of this concern is because I'm a girl. My brother, by chance of birth, has the right to die in battle and honor, to be burned upon a hero's pyre, but you would deny me the same." Her eyes bore into Endymion's. "This sword is mine, forged for me, weighted for me, and I can wield it. Allow me this chance to prove myself; do not sentence me to a cage."
Endymion nodded slowly. "So be it. Tonight I will make the request." The slightest smile touched his lips. "Though from what you have shown today, Aine, and what Fionn had told us about you, you have no need to fear any cage. One way or another, you would have shown valor."
He reached down and took the sword from her hands, and held it before him. "I, Endymion, Heir to Terra, accept you Aine into my service. Should fate allow it, you will wear the mantle of Zoisite."
Touching her shoulders with the flat of the blade he blessed her. "We shall see tomorrow what exactly this means. But for now, rise Aine."
Once she stood, Aine was relieved; she felt that Fionn would be proud of her. However, as she looked between the four boys, she saw expressions which ranged from a piercing glare and a raised eyebrow, to pity. Aine bowed again. "Thank you.
As the door closed behind her, Jing asked, "Why did you say yes? She's not Fionn. She can't be Fionn."
Aine paused only long enough to hear Endymion response. "Because Fionn always said Aine was special. Because Fionn loved his twin sister. And because when the stone rejects her, it won't be us who told her no."
Fin