38 Elowen
38 Elowen
Elowen found herself at the Needle once again, sitting in her usual spot near the back and nursing a sprymint fizzy.
This time, however, she was not alone. Far from it. It was so late it had become early again, and most of the wedding guests
had tagged along with Elowen, Vandra, and Clare for some after-hours fun. There were at least twenty people too many inside
the pub, all dressed in wedding finery, but it wasn’t the kind of overcrowding that bothered Elowen. Or maybe she was just
too happy to care about the fact that she didn’t like to be around this many people at once. She’d have to discuss it with
Lettice during their next appointment. For the moment, she appreciated that she didn’t fully understand herself, and she likely
never would.
Vandra filled the seat beside Elowen, their ankles intertwined as they both took in the scene. Wedding guests were dancing
and singing, led by none other than Clare Grandhart, who’d made it his personal mission to fill the pub with good cheer.
“You were right,” Vandra said. “This is the best place to people-watch.”
Elowen leaned into her. “Of course I was right,” she confirmed. “When have I ever been wrong?”
“ Never ,” Vandra answered playfully.
“Correct. Which means I am also right about where we should reside,” Elowen said, placing a hand atop Vandra’s. “There is plenty of room for you up in the trees with me. Morritt the brushwalker would love to have you. Your enthusiasm for creatures of his kind would be a refreshing change of pace for all involved.”
Vandra let out her throatiest laugh, relishing in the attention it drew to their private conversation. “Darling, is this your
way of asking me to move in with you?”
“Only if you say yes,” Elowen said. “Otherwise I’d prefer we forget this ever happened.”
Vandra clinked her glass to Elowen’s. “Consider it scrubbed from my memory!”
Elowen flushed. Had she really misjudged the intensity of their relationship? Though it was relatively new in some respects,
it was also over ten years old in others. And Vandra was the only person in the realm that Elowen wanted to see as much as
possible. If they didn’t live together, Elowen feared she would possibly never get enough of Vandra.
“My love,” Vandra said, catching the concern in Elowen’s eyes. “I jest! I want nothing more than to live with you.”
Elowen let out a sigh of relief.
“Just not in the forest,” she added, kissing Elowen’s forehead.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I do not have any money,” Elowen said. “That is the only home I have, and the only one I can
afford.”
“I’m quite confident Thessia is more indebted to us than ever,” Vandra replied. “And I have been residing in palace quarters
for free this last year, saving up as much as possible in the process. We are well equipped to find a home that is not yours
or mine, but ours.”
“ Ours ,” Elowen echoed, smiling. “I like the sound of that.” She leaned in closer, letting her breath tickle Vandra’s ear. “Are
you sure you don’t find the unique charms of the cursed forest appealing?”
“About as appealing as you’d find living in a crystalline skyscraper in the heart of Vermillion Vale,” Vandra whispered back. “When it comes to us, there will always need to be some compromise. We can find something that appeals to us both.”
Elowen pressed her forehead to Vandra’s. “You’re right. We can.”
“Besides, I want to take you to meet my parents in Devostos. You can join us for our monthly dinners. I’m overdue for one,
what with saving the realm and all.”
“They may not know what you do, but surely they know who I am,” Elowen said. “And I’m so dreadfully bad at lying, as you know.
How will I explain how we met?”
“I plan to tell them the truth,” Vandra replied. “About all of it. I have been searching for a life that would make them proud,
and I’ve realized I already have it. They may not understand everything I’ve ever done, but that doesn’t mean I have to hide
it anymore. I am happy with who I am, and more than that, I am ecstatic about who I love. I am ready for them to know me.
All of me.”
They went silent, closing their eyes and letting their breathing sync. It would never stop amazing Elowen how she could feel
like this around Vandra—cared for, safe, and loved . At the end of the day, it was all she really needed. The rest would fall into place.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder with a strange amount of insistence. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just have something very
important to share.”
It was Beatrice. She looked windswept and disheveled in a way that confused Elowen. It almost seemed as though Beatrice had
been on another quest. Not many would be able to recognize the way that looked on another person, but Elowen found herself
to be uniquely qualified, and therefore accepted the impression that Beatrice did in fact appear recently quest-ridden.
At once, Beatrice hugged her. It was a fierce hug, tight and all-consuming. Elowen stood up from her seat to squeeze back as hard as she could. This was a hug of bonds that could be fractured but never broken. It was a hug of love that went beyond friendship and into the territory of family. Thanks to both heroics and childhood history, they were forever linked together, and the years they went without acknowledging their lifelong connection also lived inside this hold.
Elowen began to cry for the time they’d lost, and all the time they’d soon spend making up for it.
“All my childhood, you gave me a home, resources, even a family,” Beatrice started, still holding Elowen. “I used to feel
indebted to you in a way I didn’t know how to contend with. But now I understand when you love someone, giving to them is
a gift for yourself as much as it is for the other person. I have never owed you anything, and I know that now. But I want
to give you a gift all the same.”
The crowd began to quiet. The energy in the pub shifted. Elowen sensed shock and... was it reverence? People began backing
up, creating a pathway that led straight to where Elowen and Beatrice stood. Elowen watched this unfold with great curiosity,
wondering what could possibly inspire the level of awe that had overtaken the entire room. She examined the expressions of
the wedding guests, searching their faces for clues. Some of them even began bowing, deepening her confusion.
“ Elowen. ”
Her heart felt him before her eyes saw him, for his voice flooded the gaping hole that had lived in her chest for ten long
years. Elowen stumbled back. Her hands roamed for the seat she’d just vacated, needing something far sturdier than her own
wobbling legs to hold her up. The seat did not find her. Galwell did.
Galwell.
Her mind repeated his name, hoping it would help her make sense of his presence. Her brother stood before her, the very same
as he’d looked when she’d last laid eyes on him, down to the carmine cloak atop his shoulders and the dirt smeared across
his tunic. His strong arms caught her before she recognized she’d been falling. He held her to his chest, and she crumpled,
racked with sobs that came from a place beyond all emotions she’d previously known, so primal she could not label it.
As ten years’ worth of grief worked its way to the surface, her brother ran his hand atop her hair in soothing strokes, just
as he used to when she was a young child attempting to climb trees and stride through lakes the same way he did, not yet old
enough to understand his athleticism was a part of his hand magic. When she’d fall from a tree, or get caught in the current
of the water, he always circled back to help, holding Elowen tight as he assured her she’d one day match his strength. She
believed then she’d never be as strong as him. It was impossible.
She knew now, with his steadfast arms around her, that her strength had always matched his. She’d had the strength to withstand
his loss and continue on with her life. And now, upon his return, she had the strength to accept it. She did not need to ask
how this was possible. She’d been raised on shadow plays after all, where no one important stayed dead forever. And in the
magical realm of Mythria, with friends as powerful as hers, the same proved to be true.
“You,” she said, turning to look at Beatrice, Galwell still holding her.
“Me,” Beatrice confirmed, weeping.
Beatrice had figured out a way to bring him back through her time-walking magic. Galwell the Great lived again. She had pulled him from the past somehow, lifting him out of his last living moment and bringing him to their present.
Now that she’d made some sense of it, Elowen was able to breathe again. She pulled her head from Galwell’s chest and looked
up into her brother’s eyes. “If you’ve come to us from ten years in the past, I am thirty years of age, and you are twenty-seven.
Which makes me older than you now,” she said teasingly.
The entire crowd laughed, Elowen’s joking truth loosening the knots of uncertainty in the room.
Galwell only smiled, pressing a hand to Elowen’s cheek. “And yet, it was only yesterday for me that you were my little sister.
I see now in your face how much has changed.”
Elowen scoffed. “Ghosts, Galwell. Are you saying I look old? Now I know how Clare feels when he worries over his wrinkles,
even though they suit him just fine.”
“Clare Grandhart has wrinkles?” Galwell asked.
“I do.” Clare emerged from the crowd, tears streaming down his face. He pulled Galwell into a hug that was so fierce, it almost
knocked the wind out of Elowen, who was experiencing every last bit of Galwell’s breathless confusion colliding with his deep
appreciation for this reception. “You remain as sturdy as ever,” Clare noted, squeezing Galwell’s bicep. “Ten long years I’ve
spent trying to replicate this, thinking on many occasions that I’ve come close. What a fool I am.”
“Have you forgotten my strength is magicked?” Galwell asked in earnest.
“My brother,” Clare said, his eyes welling anew. “I’ve forgotten nothing about you.”
The sincerity of Clare’s words reignited Elowen’s weeping, too. Poor, sweet Galwell could not decide who needed more tending.
“I only meant that you are now wiser than I will ever be, and I can see that in your eyes,” he said to Elowen, returning to the original point as only he could. “You have lived through great sadness.” He peered closer. “Am I the source of it?”
It was another impossible question. Galwell held the most prominent role not just in Elowen’s sadness, but the sadness of
Mythria itself. And now he walked the roads of Queendom once again, where statues had been built to grieve the loss of him.
How could anyone ever begin to explain that?
“You’re back now,” Elowen said instead, her tears flowing without pause. “There is so much I need to tell you. It’s been ten
whole years since last we spoke.”
“You should start with the wedding,” Vandra interjected, pressing a hand on Elowen’s shoulder. She stuck out a hand for Galwell
to shake. “Galwell True, it’s unbelievable to see you again. I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m—”
“Vandra!” Galwell said, wrapping her up in a hug. “How could I ever forget such a lovely thorn in my side?”
“That’s right,” Vandra said, her smile brightening from the recognition. “In your mind, you only saw me yesterday. I’m happy
to report I’m no longer your adversary. Sorry about all of that. It wasn’t personal. I hope I look even better than you remember.”
“You look exceptionally well, yes,” Galwell confirmed. “Are you the one who has just been wed?”
For as much as she’d tried to hold on to every little detail she could, it had been ages since Elowen thought about the way
Galwell asked such straightforward questions, no pretense or motive behind them, only honest curiosity.
“Perhaps someday soon,” Vandra responded, stealing a glance at Elowen. “But no, I am not the bride of the hour.”
“It’s Thessia,” Elowen said quickly.
Galwell pressed a hand to his heart, and the crowd of onlookers— lacking the knowledge that Galwell had never really loved his once bride-to-be—gasped.
“She’s wed another?” he asked.
Yes, it would certainly take some practice to adjust to his line of questions. “A royal foot soldier turned knight named Hugh,”
Elowen continued. “He is a great man.” With this, she gave Galwell a keen look, and Ghosts, it was surreal. Her older brother,
who was now her younger brother, understood her. He understood that no one else in the room knew about his lack of romantic
feelings for Thessia. He understood that this wedding was a good union and a cause for much celebration.
“That’s wonderful, then,” he said. Though he looked at Elowen as he spoke, the comment was more for the rest of the pub, who’d
spent ten years grieving Queen Thessia’s lost love alongside her. “My sincerest congratulations to our princess.”
“Queen,” Elowen corrected.
Galwell bowed, even though Thessia was not at the Needle to receive the gesture. “Our queen, yes. Forgive me. There is much
I must relearn.”
Elowen grinned at her brother. Her living, breathing brother. When would the shock wear off? Likely never.
“Worry not,” she said to him. “I will help you adjust to this beautiful new realm, for it is a beautiful new realm for me,
too.” With that, Elowen flagged down the pubtender. “I think it’s high time we get Galwell a drink,” she said.
The crowd cheered.
Elowen wrapped an arm around her brother. She had her girlfriend on the other side, and her best friend just behind them.
Who knew what would come next? Certainly not Elowen.
She only knew that no matter what, she was strong enough, brave enough, and loved enough to face it.