"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
She had been frozen for years, it seemed. Her mother's abrupt death had left her without purpose; while Scorch lived, Ea was a princess, training to be a queen. Important. But without her mother, she was forced to search for some new sense of who she was. The land beyond Beqanna had given her no aid in recreating herself - she had tried to use bits and pieces of others: their honesty, or empathy, or warmth, but it only came across as disingenuous and forced. She had quickly grown tired of the Land Beyond - it offered her even less than Beqanna did.
She was hopelessly, outwardly cold towards others – even toward her mother, whom she adored and admired. It had been ingrained in her early on to push away her feelings. Feelings like joy, love, sympathy were all weak emotions, and Ea was not created to be weak. She was an Amazonian in her blood, though she hadn't been near the Amazons in years. She never missed the Jungle – the hot, sticky air that made it hard to breathe – nor the Amazonians themselves. What she missed was being able to call herself a jungle princess, a warrior. The women of the Jungle were strong, and everyone in Beqanna knew their reputation.
The Dale was her home now. It was beautiful; even someone like Ea could appreciate the rolling green hills and the river that wound its way through the trees and pooled in the middle of the kingdom. The pool was magical in some way – Ramiel had explained it to her, though that aspect of the kingdom hardly interested her. She found it difficult to trust any magic besides her own – she hardly used her powers, anyway, once her mother had shown her how to hone them.
It was quiet. Unusually so, though it had always been a small kingdom. She preferred it this way, honestly – in the Amazons, there was always someone trying to speak to her, especially while her mother ruled. Ea was not particularly friendly, and this showed obviously in her body language – stiff, head high, a terse expression on her face. There were few that Ea relaxed around: Da and Erebor, her childhood friends that she hadn't seen since (friends may be a strong word here, though they were something more than acquaintances), and Ramiel. Her feelings towards Ramiel were complex, at least to Ea – though he stood in the way of her becoming queen when she had been trained so vigorously for it, she trusted and even cared for him. It was an odd feeling for her – a weakness, surely – and she tried to hide it as best she could.
But here she was, again, returning to the Dale when she never should have left.
Her leaving is like a breath half formed in his lungs.
What might have been chokes in her wake; she leaves a trail of questions that go unanswered for months, years. And if life is made up solely of potential and kinetic energies, her self-exile is the kinetic drive that augments the potential they’d only started building between them. Because it had been there, unquestionably, on his part. Every time he’d tried to melt her cold exterior with his molten gaze, he’d seen the potential. He’d seen the start of something more than simple affection or childhood fondness. He thought if he could just chisel and chip away at her – just a crack, that is all it would take for her to crumble – she would be so much more than what she showed the world. They would be so much more.
He misses trying and he misses her.
Ramiel doesn’t know when or if she will ever return to the Dale, but hope keeps him waiting, always. And while she isn’t the center of his focus (his people will as long as he holds his throne – their safety and sanity in the midst of war is his driving force), she appears in his mind in flashes like a ghost. Ea, he greets her every time, wondering where her doppelganger is out in the real world, hoping she’s all right. Why don’t you stay? But she’s wily and elusive (much like her emotions have always been), and she never lingers long.
Meanwhile, while he waits with his hope, life goes on all around him. Conflict fractures the peace that had once reigned over Beqanna. There is little doubt in his mind that the unrest will lead to an all-out war; the land is starved, and will only be satiated by blood and bones. He worries for the Dale in a way that he’s never worried before. Because their consistent lack of numbers is one thing – losing any single one of them at the enemy’s hooves is quite another. The young king paces at night, thinking, worrying. He imagines seeing his friends on the Other Side. Death curls its bony fingers at the others in his mind, beckons them to His side. There is nothing he can do to stop Him, to stop the war that will devastate so many. All he can do is worry for his Dalean family. All he can do is prepare them for the trying times ahead.
Silver-dipped brown blurs on the horizon now. He squints, because it seems real even though he knows it isn’t, it can’t be. Ea in the flesh. She stands unassuming in the quiet before the churning chaos, returning from lands he’ll never know. A cloud passes overhead and the light spills from its containment to sweep across the earth below. It hits the mare he’s still not sure is real or a figment of his hope.
It doesn’t take him long to decide.
The ground shudders as he barrels over it, racing both his doubts and confusion. The grey stallion pulls up once he realizes that she is, in fact, here. “Ea,” he exhales, releasing a breath that had been stunted within him for far too long. She looks well, he decides, as his golden gaze falls across her with the light. She looks as she always has, he amends in his mind, tense, like a spring left coiled too long without release. Ramiel smiles anyway. He will take her in any form – changed or otherwise – because at least she’s here. “Here to stay?” His smile quirks into a roguish grin, uncharacteristic but comfortable on his face all the same. How many times has he asked her the same words? How many times has she acquiesced, agreeing but never quite enthusiastic about staying in a place she was meant to be queen? How many times has she fled without a word, leaving him to wonder if she’d ever grow roots long enough for him to make her one?
He gives her more this time, doesn’t leave it an open-ended question. Maybe it will be enough. “I hope so.”
It was easier for Ramiel; of course it was. He felt strongly about everything - his kingdom, his sister. She wished she could understand his passion, how easily he could throw himself completely into whatever he loved, but she couldn’t. It was difficult enough for her to admit to herself that she had missed him, that she felt things for him beyond just their mutual respect and friendship; she couldn’t admit these feelings to him. Ea could never picture herself being soft for Ramiel like her mother was soft for her father. It had always seemed easy for Scorch, to love and be loved, but that was one thing she had never taught her daughter. Perhaps it was something that couldn’t be learned.
She didn’t know about the war, but it wouldn’t surprise her. There was always tension in Beqanna – they were always on the verge of some war, somewhere. But the Dale was quiet, safe. Honestly, it wouldn’t be worth going to war over the Dale, with its small but loyal following. The neutral kingdoms were similar in that way. It was always the Valley or the Chamber causing problems, stereotypically, and often times the Falls and the Dale were safe havens. Ea felt as though she was above war, above fighting – fighting was for those not smart enough to get what they wanted another way.
He’s here quickly, by her side and out of breath. It would be unsettling if she wasn’t herself, and didn’t know Ramiel like she did, but instead it was a comfort to know that he was there. He looks the same as he did the last time she was here – gray and gold and not all quite there, as if a piece of him was somewhere else, unattainable. Ghostly.
“Ram,” she says, a brief smile and then: “would you believe me if I said yes, anyway?”
She would like to stay – to be here with him, in the kingdom that should have been hers and still could be, one day – but it isn’t easy for her to make promises. “Well,” she says, with a sigh, not quite sure what else to say.
His life has been a series of one disappointment after another, after all. From his father’s glaring absence throughout the majority of his years to his inability to make the Dale a powerful kingdom (and all the points in-between, including his failure to return Gail to the land of the living and his knack for losing those he loves to time and space). Promises mean little and less to Ramiel as the years tick by. He’s seen the fallout – lived it, breathed its noxious fumes – from words that move like wind passed the lips of the liars. He’s seen the devastation on his mother’s face when Tiphon’s golden light failed to grace them once again. He’s watched as the others retreated into the dark (Wrynn, Tiberios, Ea) never to reveal themselves again, despite their promises otherwise. He knows disappointment, intimately.
He thrives in this state of consistent inconsistency.
So when Ea does emerge from the shadows (from that Neverland he loathes but knows all too well) he doesn’t know how to react at first. Surely it will be temporary (her staying, the quickening of his heart when she looks at him with her kaleidoscope eyes). She’ll be off soon enough, sinking into the blackness of the gone-space he despises. But that same, deep well of optimism he’s always pulled from bubbles up and makes itself known in his gut. Maybe she’ll be gone, he thinks, watching her face for the familiar signs of retreat. But maybe she’ll stay.
Ea’s smile further cements the idea. It’s only a brief flashing across her face, but it lights a match to Ramiel’s enthusiasm. He has a sudden hunger to see more, to crack the stony façade she wears too comfortably and reveal the layers underneath. Perhaps it had been his fault before; maybe he hadn’t tried enough, pried enough at the indifference encasing her. This time, he won’t make the same mistake. She will know she’s wanted.
“No,” he says simply. He will make sure she stays, but he will not lie to her – and he will not make it easy on her, either. Ramiel’s grin widens as he takes a step towards the bay roan. “How can I believe a woman with restless wings for feet and a nose that grows every time she leaves? Can you imagine a more unbelievable character?” He shakes his head lightly, wondering if he’s taken his jest too far. Despite what Ea might think, he understands her restlessness. If he hadn’t been bequeathed a throne in his childhood, Ramiel might have been on the road alongside her all those years. His thirst for knowledge and desire for adventure is inherent, but the crown had mutated it into a great love for home and country. A love which hadn’t had any competitors. Until now that is.
Now, he wonders if his successive disappointments had chiseled a hole pre-destined to be filled by another. Maybe all of his failures were to be negated by the successes and surprises of someone who’d always been there, lingering just out of reach. Maybe Ea had come home at exactly the right time.
“Well…,” Ram repeats, his grin falling with his gaze. The earth holds no answers though, and he is quick to lift his eyes to her once more. There is so much to be said between them (so much to give and to learn from each other) that he’s not certain where to start. And all the while, the bugles of war sound in his head, distracting the ghost-king from what he really wants to discuss. “Ea, I’ve missed you. I – “ He trails off, looking towards the mountains behind her, trying not to think about the Chamber much further behind the peaks. “I don’t want you to leave, not ever again. Our parents made an arrangement when we were children, but I don’t want to honor it because of them.” A hesitant smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Rejection, a cousin of his friend Disappointment roars in his mind, but he ignores it. Tries to. “I want to because of you, because of us.” The grey has never felt more vulnerable, like the ground could swallow him up at any moment. He swallows his doubts and looks back at Ea. “When I come back from the war, will you be here?”Will you be here always? Will you be mine?
She stiffens when he insults her. Ea is not accustomed to being spoken to like this, and she expects it from Ramiel least of all. She had expected something else, truthfully; for him to be kind and warm like she remembered. Perhaps it had been too long. She shouldn't have been so eager. “A nose that grows, hm,” she says, quiet but harsh, standing still when he moves towards her. She doesn’t recognize his playfulness, only hears the unforgiving truth in his jest. She doesn’t want to move away from him, to show any weakness, but in that moment she isn’t sure she can be so close to him.
She stands there, eyes fixed on the ground and hears the silence between them, thinking how it was a bad idea to come back to the Dale - she should have left for the Amazons, made a name for herself not only as Scorch’s daughter, but a jungle warrior in her own right. She should have taken a new land for herself when she knew the Dale wouldn’t be hers. She should have stayed a wanderer. She is disappointed - though her disappointments stem not from others, but from herself. She is disappointed that this is what she has been reduced to: just a mare being scolded by her king for not being his dedicated servant.
And then he speaks, again, and his words are different. Softer. This is the Ramiel she came home for. She opens her mouth, to form the words I’ve missed you, too, but chokes them back instead. The silver-girl takes a step forward when he finishes and reaches out to gently touch his neck. It’s a sign of affection - one that she has tried to fool him with before - but it is genuine this time. “I’ll be here. I’ll stay,” she says, and draws away once again.
Ea
