Airlie chokes on a small burst of laughter, tears now flowing down her face freely, as Soren makes an oath of his own design over the small child in the common tongue, quiet assurances of fixing the kingdom and leading his people to greatness once more to ensure that this little boy has a good life. He promises to be a good ear for him to seek out, to watch over him and guide him in his parents’ stead should he ever need it, his homes open and all his riches at Raidyn’s disposal should the little boy ever be in need.
He looks up at Roan and waits until his friend nods before he passes the baby carefully to Tyton. The high fae prince accepts the bundle happily, cooing under his breath as he rocks him and makes his own blessings. His promises are far more fun than his cousin’s, but the oaths of guidance and affection run true.
When it's Tauron's turn, the surly prince brings a far more somber and serious mood to the mix, promising protection and encouragement, unwavering loyalty and retribution ensured should anything ever befall the small prince. Roan nods through it, happy with the strong and loyal sentiments, an honest look into what the prince feels for his family.
When he's finished, Tauron hands the baby to his grandfather, and the elder Prince Roan cuddles the child against his chest with ease. He murmurs to his grandson in the old language, prayers of thanks to the Fates for seeing him here safely and others of great gratitude to see his late wife's eyes staring back at him from the small face. His oaths are strong and regal in the same way as Prince Soren's, but they end on a far more personal note.
"Your grandmother's legacy will never be forgotten, and I won't let her down. I'll stay at your side until you are grown and a strong male who can stand all on your own. I'll protect you as I've protected your father and your mother. I'll teach you all the ways to be a good male and to care for our people. The Outlands will someday be yours to rule, long after I'm gone. It's a heavy burden, my grandson, but I'll prepare you for it. I know that any child born of my son and his Fates-blessed mate will flourish into a strong and capable male."
Airlie lets out a delicate sniff, her hand tucked into her husband's elbow tightly as they look on proudly. Every word of Prince Roan's blessing is spoken from the heart, an oath to be present above all else, and their relief at hearing it is palpable. When I see the love in his eyes as he looks down at his grandson as though he never wants to look away, a lump forms in my throat.
When he finally looks at Aura, he grimaces but eventually does hand Raidyn over.
Aura holds the baby as though he's a sack of writhing firebugs and she's afraid to get burned. She speaks formally in the old language, her passage recited and without emotion as she stares at the baby prince. There's a ripple of frustration through the room at her callousness, though none seem surprised by it, and I wonder…if he bore his mother's blue eyes, would his grandmother be less frosty? I find I can't stand the woman enough to put too much thought into deciding the cause of her attitude.
When Aura finishes her prayer, she moves to hand the baby back to Airlie, but the princess takes a step back and gestures at me.
Aura stares at her, aghast, but no one else in the room reacts. It was obvious when Airlie invited me to the naming that I was to be involved in the ceremony, but her mother never seems to put much thought into her daughter's wishes, always assuming she'll get what she wants instead.
Aura glances around the room, and at everyone's continued silence, she makes a disgruntled noise and practically shoves the baby into my arms. As she steps away, she makes a show of wiping at her dress as though I've covered her in filth, but that sort of petty behavior isn’t worth my attention.
At her careless treatment of his most precious son, Roan growls under his breath, a savage noise, and steps toward her threateningly, but I accept the baby easily and bounce him a little to absorb the rough handling without disturbing his good spirits. My arms scream in pain at the sudden movement, my breath catching in my chest, but my vision stays clear enough that I’m not concerned about his safety in my care.
With my years of training, my reflexes are better than most, and I'm confident handling even the smallest of babies, steady even when their grandmothers are irreverent pieces of dragondung. I send Airlie a reassuring look, and she lets out a small sigh, one hand still clutching Roan's arm.
Firna's assessment of the female isn't just accurate, it's perhaps too lenient, and the Unseelie Court member might lose a limb if she displays that sort of idiocy around me again. Despite the Ravenswyrd way, I’ve done a lot worse to those of higher station, and Aura may very well learn that the hard way.
I look back down at Raidyn and collect my thoughts once more, pulling myself back into the ceremony at hand. I’ve thought long and hard about what blessings to give this small prince. This naming ceremony is one of many I've taken part in but it feels heavier than any before. Breaking the curse that hung over him in the womb, waiting to claim his life, changed me. I stopped being a Witch of the Woods when I left the Southern Lands, but it was this baby’s arrival that truly ended my time as soldier of the Sol Army. He brought me home to the trees and my fate, acceptance finally blooming within me at all that I’d left behind when I journeyed back here.
My blessing is as weighted in this moment as the rest, and I find the words fall easily from my lips with a raw sort of honesty that can't be softened in the old language.
I murmur, "May you have a long life, fruitful and resplendent. May you know only the highest of joys and the most peaceful of times, to be carried safely through the end of this war, protected fiercely by the most capable of households, and may this conflict be the only one you know in your time."
Raidyn coos and smiles at me, his eyes bright, and I can't help but smile back, the words taking on a life of their own as they continue to stream out of me. "May you remember the old ways and honor the earth, as it will care for you in return. May you guard this kingdom and the people within it as the First Fae did before you. May you live strong and true to yourself, guidedby the strongest bloodlines, the people who love you just as the stars love the clear winter sky."
I hesitate, not looking up at any of the subdued royals around me, before I make the mark of the Fates against his brow. I push my magic into it, just a little, as I seal my own protections within him just as Prince Soren did. The mark binds to his body and wraps him up in gifts bestowed by two fated mates, and the golden hue of his eyes glows a little brighter.
Soren’s gaze is like a branding heat on my skin and the Fates practically squirm with joy beneath my scars at his attention, but as the air grows heavy around us, I turn away from him, rocking Raidyn gently as though the action is for his comfort and not my own. The tiny prince is perfectly content in my arms, cooing sweetly at me as the novelty of so many faces surrounding him keeps him in good spirits despite the late hour.
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I rock him in my arms before I utter the last of my blessing to him. "May you remember the trees that stood in our kingdom long before we did, and may you let them guide you on your path, never faltering from the Fates and their intentions for you. May they be kind and fair to you and grant you a loving mate and a long life together. The will of the Fates is a heavy burden to bear, but one that will bring you much honor, if only you submit to them."
In the cold,dark space of the healer's quarters, I find myself plagued by the demons that run riot in my mind, waking in a cold sweat racked by tremors that keep me from springing out of the bunk. No matter the time or distance between us, the war that wages on in my head is as real as the Ureen ever were.
My heart thumps violently in my chest, and my lungs burn with every breath, a sob choked down and smothered out of existence.
The dreams are far more terrifying than anything my imagination could come up with, because every last thing I see is a memory. Every sight, smell, and sound has been embedded into my psyche, a wound that won't heal, and though I ran to the Southern Lands and thought myself safe, they've found me once more.
Rising from the bunk, I'm slow to dress. I fight to keep my actions steady despite the panicked surge in my blood. My body still aches, and my eyes itch at the lack of proper rest, though the effects of the witcheswane have finally subsided.
I brew a cup of tea to ready myself for the morning chores in the garden, then sip it down quickly as though it's the elixir of life. Alas, it's nothing more than chamomile, and my nerves are far too exposed to be soothed by its properties.
I'm guarded by the high-fae soldiers, but they stay outside the healer's quarters, no eyes on me as I go about my day, and that in itself feels like a victory. I still garner too much attention from the household, but there's a curiosity in their looks now, an emotion they probably held before but were too afraid to show.
I busy myself with weeding and tending the plants, my own stores of magic slowly creeping back into my veins. I happily push it into the earth, humming old and long forgotten songs of the forest under my breath as I move. There are so many plants here now that it's quite an undertaking to keep them in peak condition, but I enjoy the tasks, my mind relishing the hard work.
Around midday I hear the elder Prince Roan and his Outland soldiers gather in the courtyard around the other side of the castle, well-wishes and salutations called out from the household to see them off safely. I murmur a prayer of my ownfor them to the Fates, hoping they're feeling kind to us all today. It's heartfelt, and not just because he's family to Roan, Airlie and their son, but because he is a good male, and that's a rare occurrence no matter which kingdom you stand within.
Not long after, the door to the healer's quarters opens and shuts firmly and soft footsteps shuffle out to the garden. Airlie appears with Raidyn in her arms, the outward appearance of a calm and happy princess.
