"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
It had never occurred to him to take up the helm.
When the throne had been abdicated, he had not considered that he might be the one to take it up.
Not until Casimira had materialized on the horizon, bearing the news that her mother had been killed and that many suspected that Gale was responsible.
Not until he had gone to Isilya to ask where she thought the Tephrans should go from here. And she had insisted that they would need a new ruler. In doing so, she had not been implying that she should take back the throne she had one forfeited but that he should step into the role himself.
He had been crafted to protect Tephra. This had never been any secret. His magic depends on his staying here. His magic had been cobbled together to make him a fierce sentinel. Both he and Saint had been meant to keep a watchful eye over Tephra, to make sure they kept her safe.
(He had failed at this once. He does not think he can stomach the thought of failing again.)
And so, he comes away from his meeting with Isilya, his conversation with Casimira, and he wanders out into the open. His heart beats strong as he surveys his home, his beloved Tephra, and draws in a long breath.
He loves Tephra and each of its inhabitants. He had been built to protect and he will do that.
“Tephrans,” he calls to all of those within earshot, studying their faces as they come. “It has never been a secret that my parents crafted me be Tephra’s protector. I failed to protect us from Gale and for that I’m sorry. But I will not fail again. I will not let her fall into the wrong hands again. I will take up the throne and I promise each and every one of you that I will keep Tephra and each and every one of you safe.”
He seeks out Casimira, holding her gaze hard and fast a moment before he adds, “Casimira will rule alongside me, as she is just as fierce, if not fiercer, than I am."
YOU REMIND ME WHO I WAS AND WHO I WANT TO BE
YOU REMIND ME THOUGH NOT WHOLE, I’M NOT EMPTY
At first, when she hears the call, Gilda lifts her head from quiet grazing thinking that it might be her father, but Dace disappeared into the shadows when Gale came with his nightmares and his claws and his teeth, and she has not seen him since. She does not want to believe he has fled, not when Isilya still stood strong against that darkness, not without telling her, but the other option then is that he has died, and that is not something she is willing to consider. The girl's thoughts brush deftly against that possibility and leap away like a stone skipping across still water. He's fine, just busy, she supposes.
And after all, she's more than old enough to be on her own. It's just that... she never has been. He'd always been there before, even if just on the periphery, always within reach. The wings that trace the ridges of her cheekbones droop slightly, giving away the uncertainty creeping through her chest, but there's none of it in her quick steps as she picks up a path to Savior's clearing in time for his proclamation. Golden ears tilt forward to catch his words but her eyes won't sit with him long, scanning the faces of those who have come to hear it for her father's boldly marked brow.
Not present.
Her heart sinks a little more, but she presses forward into the gathering. Perhaps they had all fallen short, huddling like children in Isilya's small island of safety while Gale hunted those who did not reach it. They might each have done more, if not against him directly, than to help one another to survive - or to escape.
Gilda had always known that running away was not for her. What were nightmares to a child born into the Eclipse? As her father had taught her, she'd sought out Isilya's tree and the calm that spread across the magician's roots and blossomed in her branches, but she never went out to find others, to find the ones who struggled and died in fear. How many might she have saved? Even one would have been a victory.
Pale wings tuck tight against the sides of her face as she nods mournfully along with Savior's words. It is not his failure, it belongs to all of them; none of them are free from the stain of Tephran blood.
She had surprised herself when she had told Savior that she would rule alongside him.
It was not that she did not think she could do it. Truthfully, she knew that she could—and she knew that in comparison to someone like Gale, she deserved it. When Loess had rained fire onto Tephra it had been Casimira that had unleashed her own flames against them; it had been Casimira that had died by the aid of the Loessian advisor, Starsin, and had been reborn from Tephra’s ashes.
It has taken her a long time to come to terms with the fact that Savior—and Tephra—were meant to be her home; that they were both things she needed to stop running away from. But the moment such a thing had dawned on her and she had been able to look at it with a newfound clarity she had known she had no other choice.
She knew there was magic out there stronger than their own, but perhaps with two dragons on Tephra’s throne the world would think twice about coming for the kingdom again.
Just as Leliana had intended.
She stands not far from Savior when he speaks, a small smile curving across her mouth when he calls her fierce. He knew that she avoided that side of herself whenever possible, but it did exist, and the red V of the alliance marked on her leg proved she had learned to at least control it. She moves to stand next to him, her snow-white body stark against the black fire opal of him, and she scans her ice-blue eyes across the small gathering. “I’m Casimira,” she begins, knowing that many of these residents would not know her, “and while I do not know most of you I was born here, and I have fought for Tephra before.” Her gaze slides to Savior, holding it for a second before turning back to the faces before her, “And I am willing to fight for it.”
The aqua male slides through the greenery to find the meeting. Jungle vines are an obstruction on his path, but he knows that with practise he will find the more well-worn routes beneath the volcano. The heat is humid, which makes it bearable for him; his otherwise oily fur would have set fire too easily, but in the thick green forest he finds comfort. Then there is the waterfall of course, where he would spend an eternity if he didn’t have any social cravings.
As such he had wandered and found, alas, little of the green-and-silver mare from the Field. In the time it had taken him to end up here, she had vanished and, so he deduces from the male who has called this meeting, left an empty throne without successor. Like an alpha pair, two are now taking up that task and Ahti does not envy them - though if it had been necessary he would have been able, he suspects. He’d done it before when a leader disappeared, but the politics here are new to him and he wouldn’t want to trust magic alone to help him.
A scale-marked female is also present, and for a moment she piques the water entity’s interest, but then he focuses on the leading pair. He nods to them in greeting, and when no-one seems to want to speak or ask questions, he figures he can introduce himself. ”Hello. Congratulations on your promotions.” He knows as well as any other that one’s disappearance gives another the opportunity. He hopes they’ll do well, but he doesn’t know them. His tone is therefore neutral, for he had trusted Divest’s good intentions and feels sorry she has gone. ”I’m Ahti. I spoke with Divest in the Field. Seems I’ve timed my arrival somewhat oddly.” It sounds explanatory and slightly near to an excuse for interrupting, but so be it. He looks to the two of them, his emerald gaze open and somewhat expectant. If they have questions, now seems as good a time as any.
yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene her purest of crystal and brightest of green
Isilya arrives to give support to her friend and his queen - and it gives her no shortage of delight to see the way the pair look at each other. Though she does not know the white mare well, it takes no effort at all to extend the absolute faith that she has in Savior to her as well.
As she walks forward, she recognizes the palomino girl and her scale markings. She'd seen Gilda during the nightmare reign, enjoyed her presence even if Isilya had been in half a dream state to maintain the energy of a bubble of happiness just to give everyone else a spot free of nightmares. Still, it was good to have confirmation that Gilda had made it through the end of that mess unharmed and a rush of genuine joy fills up the gold-pointed mare. She does not hesitate to find a spot to stand right beside the girl, resisting the urge to brush one of those small wings in greeting and instead offering a sunny smile.
Other than that, she has nothing else to give in this moment so she only stands there quietly - happy to be able to witness the beginning of a new chapter for her home.
’twas not her soft magic of streamlet or rill oh! no, it was something more exquisite still
There are familiar faces and only one unfamiliar. Gilda does not speak but she does not need to. They had all stood aside and watched Tephra fall into darkness with Gale at the helm. But he’s certain that every Tephran standing before him now understands that they must fight their way back into the light.
(Perhaps there is some level of blessing in the way Gale had marched them into shadow. It has reminded them—or, at the very least, reminded him—to appreciate the place their home has always been. Or, at least, what it has been over the course of his lifetime.)
He smiles at Gilda, at Casimira, at Isilya. He smiles at them all, even the newcomer. A newcomer invited by Divest before she had unceremoniously departed, leaving them stranded. And perhaps it was for the best, as it had been Gale who had put her on the throne. They will shake off the residue that the dark king had left in his wake. They will rise anew.
His gaze lingers on Ahti. “Ahti, welcome,” he says and nods, something in his own smile turning slightly rueful. “Odd, indeed, but I hope that you will stay and help restore Tephra.”
He might not have been the one who’d invited the stallion here, but he will not send him away, even if Divest had brought him here for sinister reasons. (He has no way of knowing, as Divest had been here so briefly that he had not gotten a chance to see where her allegiance seemed to lie.)
He glances then to the others and draws in a long breath, head tilted just barely as pride blossoms in the cavern of his chest.
“I believe in us.” He nods. “I believe that we will find our way back to the light.”
YOU REMIND ME WHO I WAS AND WHO I WANT TO BE
YOU REMIND ME THOUGH NOT WHOLE, I’M NOT EMPTY
