Chapter 10 Svenn #3
Darstan's left arm is nearly torn from his body.
Tendons and muscle exposed where something ripped through flesh.
Shade's usually pristine assassin's garb is shredded and blood-soaked.
Even the wolf limps heavily, one of its legs broken.
Siofra rushes onto the arena floor. Her hands already glow with healing magic as she tends to Darstan's mangled arm.
But Rhianelle's vortex remains intact. It's still crackling with dark violet energy and the sounds of ongoing battle. I throw myself against the barrier.
Nothing. I pull everything I have left and hit it again. The surface ripples and settles with dark energy. Rainer arrives at my shoulder, driving his spear into the darkness. The vortex doesn't move.
"Our queen is just an elfling," someone calls out from the stands. "The poor girl. Sixty-nine years old against creatures that have lived for millennia!"
The crowd begins to murmur and shift restlessly.
"The elders we trusted are monsters," another voice echoes. "How can we survive what's coming?"
"We're doomed either way," Lord Ctibor declares with despair. "Our queen is an elfling."
I don't care. Their fear is noise. I slam my fists against the barrier again.
The beast inside me roars for release, demanding I tear this entire arena apart stone by stone if that's what it takes to reach her.
But as I raise my hands for another assault on the vortex, a voice cuts through the chaos.
"Is the elfling queen truly as pitiful as you believe?"
The voice slices cleanly through chaos. Blaire moves from the viewing stands and enters the arena. She stands in the center, utterly unafraid.
"Let me tell you a story," she says softly.
I strike the barrier again. Rainer and Red join me with their blessings from Kvatosh. The vortex does not bend.
"There was once a princess left behind in the village of Feywildra while her mother, her uncle, and her sister rode to war," Blaire begins, her tone shifting to something gentle. "They thought they were keeping her safe. Hidden away from the battles that raged across the frontiers."
The crowd's murmuring softens.
"But the villagers saw something else." Her gaze sweeps the colosseum. "They saw opportunity. A royal child with no protection. They betrayed her and tried to break her spirit for their own gain."
A ripple of unease passes through the crowd.
"So she ran into the Forbidden Forest of Astefar."
Gasps echo through the stands.
Even Rhianelle's knights feel a chill at those words. The Forbidden Forest is a place of legend and terror. Few who enter ever return.
"Not many can survive the wilderness of that cursed place," Blaire continues, her voice growing harder.
"But she did. For years, the villagers hunted her like an animal.
They lured her with food when she was starving, set traps.
The villagers tried every cruel trick they could devise. But they could never catch her."
I have seen flashes in Rhianelle's memories. Fragments of nightmares. A small child alone and hunted, surviving in one of the most dangerous places in the known world.
"When her uncle came to visit, she would emerge from hiding," Blaire's voice cracks slightly with emotion.
"Not for herself, but to protect the villagers from his wrath.
She told him they were treating her well.
That she was happy and safe. She lied to save the lives of people who had tried to destroy her. "
Rainer has gone very still beside me. His face shows pain and the recognition of truth.
"This went on for hundreds of years," Blaire declares. "A little girl, starved and scared and alone."
More people have stopped fleeing, drawn back by her words. Some have begun to help us press against the barrier. Even the proud Aldarelfs are helping.
"Yes, Rhianelle is merely sixty-nine years old. It's true that the nine hundred years are temple years," Blaire says calmly. "But she didn't spend those years in some comfortable sanctuary of a temple. She spent them in Astefar. The Forbidden Forest. The domain of the Un."
The crowd gasps.
"The Forgotten Gods," someone whispers.
"You say she's too young," Blaire's voice rises with passion. "That she has no experience of the outside world. But she spent nine hundred years surviving in a place where the Forgotten Gods still walk. Where most cannot last even a day."
I feel the barrier beneath my hands begin to warm. More elves add their strength to ours. Dozens, then hundreds, pouring their magic into breaking the prison that holds their queen.
"One day, they finally caught her," Blaire's voice turns hard as steel. "Trapped her leg in a bear trap meant for wild boars."
My hands freeze against the barrier.
The limp.
Rhianelle's left leg. The subtle hitch in her stride that I've traced with my fingers in the dark, wondering what battle had marked her. Which enemy had dared.
It wasn't a fucking enemy.
It was a trap meant for animals, set by the people who were supposed to protect her. My vision blurs red at the edges. The beast inside me howls for blood. I press harder against the barrier, channeling rage into breaking through to her.
"And then..." she falters, fury cracking through her words. "Then they sold her."
Someone in the stands makes a sound of horror.
"The villagers shipped her, me, and other village girls to a brothel in Tiamat."
Even those who had been calling for Rhianelle's removal look horrified now.
"I starved myself before their ship sailed," Blaire continues, her voice steady despite the weight of it. "I thinned my wrists and ankles until I could slip their shackles. I stole a wild Noctral and rode it across half the continent to find her uncle."
Her gaze lifts to Rainer. "He came to her rescue. Tell them what you found."
Rainer's throat works before sound emerges.
"The villagers were already dead," he says hoarsely. "Every bone in their bodies shattered, crumpled like paper. The entire settlement burned to ash."
A tremor runs through the stands.
"Sometimes when you break something that innocent and pure, the gods themselves take notice," Blaire says softly. "They intervene."
More and more people add their strength to free Rhianelle.
"You call her an elfling?" Blaire's voice cuts through the rising surge. "The Un themselves tested her."
Spiderwebs of light spread across the crimson surface. The barrier beneath my hands suddenly begins to crack.
I pull back. This isn't us. The power is coming from within.
"I didn't tell you this story so you would pity her," Blaire's voice cuts clean through the noise. "She endured centuries of isolation, hardship, and divine trial. Rhianelle Wiolant is more than fit to be your queen."
The words are barely out of Blaire's mouth when the barrier shatters. Shards of crimson energy explode outward in a blinding cascade.
Rhianelle emerges from the dissipating energy, hovering above the arena floor. She is wreathed in flames that burn silver and gold. Her eyes burn like twin suns caught in mortal flesh.
At her feet lie two of the most powerful elders. Their bodies twisted and broken.
But this isn't my wife.
It's one of the Un.
The goddess's presence fills the arena, wearing Rhianelle's form like a divine mask. When she looks across the kneeling crowd, there's no recognition in those burning eyes. No mercy.
Blaire drops to her knees.
The rest follow. One by one, knees hit stone. The colosseum falls into reverent silence.
I sense fear, but not in the crowd.
It's Blaire. She trembles, head lowered. I hear her whisper, "Deanna the Huntress… please. Give her back to us."
Even she is uncertain whether the Un will release what they have claimed.
The goddess smiles.
It's arrogant and terrible, amused by the thousands of mortals prostrating themselves before her. I can feel her intent immediately.
She wants to kill.
This goddess wants to wipe away these insignificant creatures who dared summon her power. The Un are not known for their mercy or restraint.
I should kneel and show deference to this being that could unmake me with a thought.
But I won't. She has my wife, and I want her back. I step forward instead.
"Give her back," I say quietly.
The goddess's smile widens. Her burning eyes find me. I feel the shift in the air, the tightening of invisible threads. She is about to strike.
Movement catches my eye. Coral appears at the edge of the arena. The little flightless wyvern shows no fear of the divine presence. She approaches the floating figure with the simple trust of an animal who knows only love.
The goddess looks down. For a heartbeat, nothing changes. Then something falters. The blaze in Rhianelle's eyes dims, just slightly.
Coral chirps. That soft sound she makes when she wants affection.
The goddess flinches. Confusion fractures the divine mask, and concern follows. "Coral?"
The voice is no longer thunder wrapped in silk. It is Rhianelle's.
"What... how did I...?"
She descends slowly. The flames gutter and die as her feet touch the arena floor. When she looks around at the thousands of kneeling figures, her eyes are her own again.
Lilac and wonderfully warm.
She sways slightly. I'm there before she can fall, catching her against my chest.
"Svenn?" Her voice is small. "What happened? The Aeonians were so strong. I had to use more strings than I could—"
"You won," I whisper against her hair. "You saved us all."
She pulls back to look at me. Then past me at the crowd still kneeling in the arena. At Blaire standing in the center with tears streaming down her face.
"My queen," I say, and drop to one knee beside her. I have never given my loyalty to anyone. Not to kings or lords or the gods themselves. But I give it to her.
Rainer is the first to follow. Then Shade. Then Eyepatch, Red, Darstan, even wounded and bloodied. One by one, her knights kneel.
The wave spreads outward from us like ripples on water.
The silence shatters.
"We pledge our swords to Queen Rhianelle!" Lord Wesley's voice rings out. He descends the steps, moving to the arena floor, his ancient blade drawn and held point-down before him as he kneels.
"Our fealty is yours, Your Highness!" Lord Ctibor calls out, the same lord who moments ago declared them doomed. "Long live the Queen!"
The chant spreads like wildfire.
Within moments, the entire colosseum thunders with devotion. The sound shakes dust from ancient stone. Even those who questioned her now shout themselves hoarse in loyalty.
Rhianelle looks down at the crumpled forms of the elders. Her hands begin to tremble. For a moment, the horror threatens to consume her. I can see it in her eyes—the little girl who survived the forest, who protected the villagers who hurt her, who never wanted to become this.
She closes her eyes and takes one shaking breath. When she opens them again, the horror is still there but understanding settles over her features.
"This is not who we are," she says, standing straighter. The exhaustion fades from her features as she embraces what she has become. "We will rebuild what has been shaken. We will protect one another. And when war comes, we will face it together."
The roar of approval is deafening.
Rhianelle doesn't smile or bask in their adoration. There's a weariness in her eyes—the look of someone who's just realized the full cost of survival. Blaire crosses to us and pulls Rhianelle into a fierce embrace.
"I'm glad you came back," she whispers.
Rhianelle's arms close around her friend. Just for a moment, she allows herself to lean into that comfort. To be small again. But when she pulls back, the queen's mask is firmly in place.
Rainer approaches next. I watch him come, my body tense with the weight of what I know. The Asterdust frenzy he fell into. The broken ribs he gave her while lost in that haze.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
It would be so easy. He's exhausted from his own battle, wounded, and vulnerable. I could tear his throat out before anyone understood what was happening.
But I stay where I am. Rhianelle has already chosen to forgive, even if I never will. I force myself to stand perfectly still, to keep the violence leashed inside me even as it howls for release. I let him reach her and watch her face when she sees him coming.
"Rhianelle, I—"
"You didn't know," she says gently. “I made sure you didn't know what the villagers were doing to me. That was my choice."
He lowers his head. "I should have seen it anyway."
She lifts her hand and rests her palm against his cheek. "When Blaire reached you, you came for me. That's what matters."
Coral headbutts my leg. I look down and she's staring at me with those intelligent eyes. The wyvern was never afraid. Even when a goddess wore her beloved Rhianelle's skin.
Healers swarm the arena now. Tending to Darstan and the others who barely survived their battles. Council members descend from their seats, eager to pledge loyalty to the queen.
But Rhianelle sways again. The toll of channeling divine power catching up to her. I sweep her into my arms before she can protest.
"Svenn?" Rhianelle murmurs against my chest.
"Yes, little fawn?"
"The Aeonians are gone now?"
"Yes," I say quietly. "Only one of them is missing."
She frowns, then goes quiet for a moment. Her fingers find the front of my cloak and hold on.
"Deanna, one of the Un, possessed me." A tremor runs through her. "I felt her. Inside me. The goddess wanted to stay. She wanted to keep this form and walk among mortals again."
"But you didn't let her," I comfort her.
Rhianelle looks back at Coral. "Because someone reminded me who I was."
The wyvern chirps proudly.
By nightfall, every corner of Aelfheim will know. They have a queen again.
The little elfling they mocked has become something far greater. Not through age or birthright, but through surviving what should have destroyed her. In the process, she's given her people something they desperately needed.
Hope.