Gwen-

Born in the time of rebirth and warmth, on the 1st day of Bloom, Gwenavyre’s first cry was strong. It was a cry that announced to the world “I am here and I am hungry”. Rowan could not hold back his tears of joy as he beheld his firstborn daughter now nestling into the arms of his beloved. 

“Rozen, she’s beautiful. I was worried the name we chose wouldn’t fit but… Look at that face.” Rozen had always known her husband was a soft touch, that he’d be a wonderful father and loving partner. Throughout their youth he’d pined for her, made it known he’d always be there for her even without any expectation of reciprocation. The look in his eyes a just over a mere year ago when she finally turned to him and asked him to marry her. They hadn’t even been courting before this. 

Of course she saw him hesitate, though knew it wasn’t because he wasn’t eager to say yes, but because there was something in her voice that told him she was unsure. He asked her for three months. Three months of courtship and if at the end she still insisted, he’d marry her there and then.

Now, nine months after their wedding, their hearts were melting together over the life they’d created.

“Welcome home Gwenavyre…” Rowan’s voice held more emotion than his heart could contain, his cheeks in agony from his broad smiles.

“Welcome home Gwen-” Rozen examined her daughter's face, the sound of her name catching in her throat and revealing the nickname she’d use from this moment on. Rowan wrapped them in his arms and for a long time they were quiet, they were family.

Faster…

The smoke came before the screams. It marched throughout the village forcing its way into homes and lungs alike. Then came the crackling of flames and the cries of friends, family, neighbours, as the dragon's breath sought to consume all. I could feel my hand slipping from my mothers as I stumbled along in her tracks. 

“Gwen baby, keep the blanket over your mouth and your eyes on me…” Mama’s voice clambered above the onslaught of sounds striking at my ear drums. I couldn’t help but recall earlier that day.

“Gwen baby, stop covering your face with that blanket, you’ll get it mucky…” Maman quickly dabs at my cheeks with the damp cloth she’s been using to wash the dishes. I can’t help but giggle in glee as I squirmed against her, I love the way she plays along and tickles my tummy to get me to stay still. 

 “Maman, I’m not mucky, I’m a sugar fairy!” She feigns shock and begins looking me over, her hands tickling at my sides and running through my hair before gently booping my nose.

“Well my little sugar fairy, why don’t you wash your own face and then go find Papa. Uncle Berjac returns this evening with the others and he needs to go hunting for our meal.” I always love when Uncle Berjie comes home, he brings trinkets and coins with strange creatures on them. I dive my face into the soapy dish water and squeal in discomfort at the sting in my eyes. I do my best to wipe at my eyes with my blanket, Mama will look at me with her told you so eyes if I let her know it hurts. 

Damp tendrils of hair stick to my forehead and the sting grows more intense. The smoke is clouding my vision and my legs can’t keep up. Maman stops suddenly and I bump into her back, I’m so glad my legs have a moment to rest. I tug at her hand, I need her to look at me, I want her to carry me. Something warm starts to trickle down my arm, it feels like it’s coming from Maman’s hand. It feels like warm treacle and for a moment I think she’s got a treat for me. 

Her hand squeezes mine all too tight… and then not at all. 

She falls to her knees and before us I see a towering monster. Flesh covered in scales, eyes the colour of burning embers, a mouth filled with razors. I choke on tears, they sear into my eyes and I can’t breathe. It’s holding a sword, it looks like the ones I’ve seen Uncie Berjie practicing with, he promised to teach me too. The monster swings it down towards me and I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. I scream for Maman, Papa, anyone…

Rescue.

Everything falls silent, the air becomes still, the heat dissipates. I peek one eye open, then the other. I see, shadows? They’re dancing around me and Maman, the monster is nowhere to be seen. Maman has her head down, her face covered by her hair and soot. I move to her as quickly as my little legs can carry me, I run my fingers through her hair in much the same way she does when I have nightmares. 

“It’s okay, the monster is gone, the fire, we’re safe!” I pull strands free from her sticky face and she looks up at me but, I thought Maman’s eyes were green? They’re blue, more bright than any shiny gems Uncle Berjie had brought, brighter than any leaves or flowers Papa put in my hair…

“Maman, I’m scared…” I tug at her arms, I want to hide in them, I want to feel her hold me, they move stiffly. Her dress isn’t white anymore, it’s almost completely red. That warm sticky liquid like treacle has covered her, it looks like when I grazed my knees. I know what’ll help, I quickly smush my face against her tummy, I plant little kisses all over, this always helps me feel better. My face is even more sticky now and it smells more like salt and metal than sugar. 

My face crumples and I feel my legs give out from beneath me as Maman begins to stroke my hair. Sobs quake through me and snot bubbles in my nostrils. 

“Gwenavyre, baby, you’ll be safe here, you just have to wait a while. I have to leave to find something but I’ll be back soon…” My blood runs cold but I don’t dare let go of her dress as I grip the fabric as tightly as my tiny hands are able. Her voice is her own and yet it isn’t. She never used my full name unless it’s really serious. 

There’s something else, something dark, inviting, like a candy I’m not supposed to take. Why must Maman leave? I can’t be alone, I’m too small, I don’t want to be a big girl, I don’t want to learn to use a sword anymore, I just want to stay here in her arms. “Grow big and strong for me, you’ll do great things.” 

The fabric in my hands feels heavier in my fingers, it’s hanging limply in my tiny hands, still soaked and filthy, but empty. I’m alone. 

The shadows feel as though they move closer as my tears continue to flow. It feels like they’re holding me, caressing me, protecting me. Of course Maman didn’t leave me alone, she’s still here, this is just a new way of giving me hugs.

I’ll do as she says, I’ll wait, I’ll sit and I’ll grow and once I’m big enough. I’ll help her punish the monsters.

Promises…

Those eyes of ice combat the flames,

They cut the shadow down in twain,

Whispered words to grow and breathe,

Twisted shadow heaves and seethes,

Reformed around a child sworn,

To shadows side and soon reborn, 

Tears long shed etched into flesh,

Cradled in a Fell made Creche,

Bound by vengeance deep and true,

To hunt those eyes so icy blue,

Tied by destiny and tethered,

Shadow kissed and fire weathered,

Find your way to me once more,

Use my hand to settle score,

I offer you my taint and word,

Your pleas for saving I have heard.

Words swirl through the void, echoing and reverberating and sticking to me like glue and eyes…

Those eyes.

Ice blue and piercing, staring at me through flames and filled with an emotion I can’t put a name to. As they shimmer just out of sight, in the corner of my eye ever out of reach I see scales, black as shadow and trembling whenever I scream at the eyes to Face me!

Remember?

Fear, loss, rage and then… Fuzziness. My memories are filled with fog and smoke, I barely recall what happened while I was secure. I try to reach for anything, the memories taunting me, falling through my fingers like tendrils of shadow.

Shadow… She soothes me, I can feel her stroking my hair pulling my mind from any attempt to remember forcing me to open my eyes and see.

I felt the shadow unravelling, slipping away from me, that inky blackness that had cocooned me for so long. I was no longer hidden away, no more protected and yet, everything surrounding me was still so stiflingly black. Though with this darkness came the stench of death, the feeling of ash clinging to flesh and of buildings reduced to little more than rubble and decay. I could see no life fighting for a foothold, not even the wind dared take breath in this wasteland. 

It took many moments for it to sink in that I was home, that this place of misery and nothingness was the place I’d grown in so filled with love and life and laughter. It was as if I’d stayed in place while everything crumbled down around me, as if time had held me still and marched on elsewhere leaving me behind. 

“M-Maman, are you there?” My voice travelled differently here, it left my lips and fell where it landed, no longer did my words echo back to me as if my surroundings were replying, instead I fell on deaf ears. A gentle caress ran through my hair and I felt my chest loosen from a tension that had begun to build the moment I’d heard the words “It’s time.” 

“You need to find it, you have to look” As she spoke I felt her wrap around me tightly, like my blankets when Maman would tuck me into bed, warm and comforting. As the shadow settled on my skin, I knew she’d never leave me. I may not be hidden away anymore, but I was not alone. 

She felt quieter here, further away, as if her ability to hold me came at great expense. If that were the case then I’d need to do my best to help her grow stronger, to look after her as she does me. 

Shunned.

I don’t know how long it took me to find my way out of the Dales, but I know it took me just as long to get used to the sunlight again. Maman didn’t speak much, though she never once drifted from my side. She would bring my attention to things nearby, movement of creatures once we left the ashlands of home and other such things she’d told me I’d need to look out for. I recalled Papa’s stories of hunts and how he’d track animals to their dens and would count how many of each creature there was, he never took enough to wound their number but always enough to keep us fed. I learned how to track and hunt rabbits, I skinned them as he’d shown me even with Maman scolding him for teaching a child something so gruesome. 

It wasn’t until I finally found people again that I realised the weight of the agony I’d been carrying on my shoulders, an agony that only grew as people recoiled with terror in their eyes. Why did they look at me that way? 

I’m not a monster, I’ve seen monsters, I don’t look like them. 

I realised eventually my voice didn’t sound like theirs, so I hid while I tried to remember the way Maman spoke before the fire.

Once I remembered the tongue, I then discovered that Maman would unsettle them, to have two shadows isn’t normal, even if she means them no harm. So I only approached at night, but then I finally learned how I looked, my skin the colour of the ash that clouded the sky that night, my eyes bathed in the darkness that offers me safety and warmth, the streaks of the tears I cried burrowed into my cheeks like the cracks in my faith. My kin hated me, despised me, feared me. 

Was I wearing the shame of being the only to survive so readily? I’m a Wood Elf, same as them, I grew up speaking their tongue, singing their songs, trusting in their deities! 

It was them, Ghillanen and my kin alike who turned their backs, not I. 

Time.

I slowly began to learn why people called Dragonborn monsters, that these creatures flaunting shiny baubles and coin were the same as the one who’d ripped my home apart and taken my childhood with it.

That face, it haunts my dreams in this world as it did in the shadow, the ice of those eyes watching over my shoulder, never looking me directly in the eyes, those scales coated in ash to the point I can barely tell the colour beneath. I don’t need to know the colour, because those eyes, they’ll tell me when I see them again.

It took me a long time to travel through towns I barely took the time to learn the names of, if I stayed too long Maman would grow impatient. The locals would start to notice and look under the hood I’d managed to steal away from a pretty window. It’s not my fault they left it unlocked, it’s not my fault it was just my size. 

I can’t have travelled all that long though, I never grew taller, never changed, never felt like years went by. I heard people talking about how years felt they slipped away, but time felt like a crawl, something that tried to hold you down rather than rush you along. Every now and then I was sure I saw someone I’d seen before, but they always looked different, I know Elves and Dragonborn age differently, I managed to find a couple of books that stated as much, but information is hard to come by when anyone who catches a glimpse is ready to throw a torch at you. 

I know I was only five… I’ve tried to figure it out but numbers are hard and calendars are difficult if you don’t know where to start, so if anyone asks I just repeat what I heard a very pompous Dragonborn say 

“It’s rude to ask a lady how old she is, how uncouth” 

It always shuts people up. I learned the word pompous that day too, the barman promptly told her if she didn’t tell him then he’d have her 

“Pompous lizard ass out on the street in seconds flat” 

That was the first time I ever stole for someone else, I pocketed her purse and left a handful of silver behind the counter. The way his eyes bulged when he counted up his profit for the night.

It wasn’t entirely selfless, I’d been swindling him out of food and drink for days, I essentially paid my tab with her coin.

Coin.

I hadn’t seen gold coins before, most other towns and villages people used silver, not a whole lot of Merchants or Nobles hung out the same places I did. But Masion Rouge, they had all kinds of people, all sorts of trinkets and… gold coins? I couldn’t help but play with one of the coins I’d stolen from that pompous ladies purse, for days I’d twirl it through my fingers, completely enraptured by how it caught the light. For days I’d unknowingly caught the eyes of those around me more than I’d done in however long it’d been since I first found civilisation again.

“Here, this is the one, flaunting a gold coin with the nerve to show their ears. Disgusting thieving Elf!” My blood ran cold as a scaled finger waved in my face, spit following suit and coating my cheeks as I stared on, bewildered. There’s no way anyone saw me take the purse, how could they know I’d been the one to steal?

“Knife ears, where’d you get the gold? Your lot really don’t care for laws do they, what some of you go ‘round killin’ people and you think that means you’re above the rest eh?” I was too stunned to react, even as I knew he was reaching for me. He pulled my hood back to force me to look at him only to recoil and screech. I rolled my eyes and finally gathered my bearings, standing from my seat and pocketing the coin. I used the panic to slip out without a scratch.

That was the day I learned my kind aren’t allowed to breathe near let alone to actually touch gold. 

Cards.

Somewhere along the way I picked up a knack for cards, the way they move through my fingers and capture the attention of those nearby while keeping their eyes from glancing under my hood. I learned how to make bets, how to gamble. I learned to play all manner of games that turned attention into money or food or peace. 

I also learned that each card has meaning. Everyone is drawn to a single card in particular, it comes to them no matter how many times the deck is shuffled. For me, the Ace of Spades. Spades are tools, used to dig in the dirt. There’s a number of reasons you’d dig, to farm, to find treasure… to hide bodies. 

Every time I reach for the deck, I feel the Ace whispering, Maman guides my fingers towards it as if telling me, I’m a tool. I have a purpose. 

Destiny.

The day people started to whisper of “The Unbound” is the day Maman grew restless, her voice was louder than it had ever been on this plane and she urged me to move. To join… To follow.

It was as she was in my ears and crawling on my skin that I noticed something strange, a person out of the ordinary.

A large and towering woman with skin the colour of ash and markings dark as night imprinted on her flesh, she asked for her drinks, then took them. No payment slid over the counter, no thank you. Just a swipe of the drinks as the barman's attention lay scattered across the bar.

Stranger still, her eyes found mine through the dim light of the tavern. She shuffled over, drinks moments from spilling and took the seat across from me. Perhaps she was the gambling type, people often sought out the hooded elf in hopes of winning some extra coin.

But no, she clearly wasn’t the type to partake in cards. Though she still picked one when offered the chance. 8 of Clubs. Curious.

Conversation ensued and the mention of The Unbound arose. Maman was pushing me to ask more, to pressure, to follow. Turns out this woman was headed there herself.

My words were not my own when I offered to accompany, when I suggested we ought to travel together as safety in numbers and we were headed the same way after all.

When I was thinking why, Maman hissed “Destiny.”