Day 13 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Caisleán Saighead, Gorias

Annwn

“You must be Elsa,” I muttered to the Ellyllon at my door. She was clothed head to toe in a full-body black suit of armor, leaving only her face visible. It was a stark contrast in all of its pale glory.

“Erelith, my Captaen.”

She had a mess of hot pink hair barely wrangled by a delicate arrangement of flowers. Her wings were iridescian, an extremely rare pattern in Ellyllon culture. They glimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. She was both strikingly beautiful and delicate… everything I hated.

“I was afraid you would be the one with crooked hair,” I motioned with my hands at the side of my head, thinking of the earlier Ellyllon’s side ponytail. “She was a peach.”

“Nimeth is dead, my Captaen.”

“What?” I drew back, shocked. “And stop calling me ‘Captaen.’ I’m no one's Captaen now.”

The beautiful fairy inclined her head. “Nimeth died by Fomorian hands. She refused to be taken prisoner in the invasion.”

I nodded, considering. “Good for her.”

“What?” Erelith asked, sounding confused.

I shrugged. “She died in service, not taking any chet from those stilted sea-farts.”

Erelith appeared to be at a loss for words.

I sighed quietly. It was as I had expected. This generation of Ellyllon was soft. The King’s Guard that I had served with would have been proud to die in service to Bres.

“Anyway…” she said, motioning at me to follow. “I am to take you around the castle so you can see the work that has been done while you have been… recovering.”

I took a moment to take another look around my old room. There were so many memories here. Despite my refusal to return, Brigid and Bres had preserved the room. It looked exactly as it had the day I had left. I could see no damage from the Fomorian raid. It was a time capsule from a better time.

I shook myself free from my nostalgia, pocketed Bren’s seashell and ring, and followed the very colorful Queen’s Guard out of the room and around the massive castle. Erelith’s features remained impassive, unchanged by even my most outlandish comments.

The castle was abuzz with activity. There were changeling and Ellyllon soldiers everywhere. Some were clearly on duty, based on their armaments, while others were cleaning and clearing debris. Some wielded hammer and nails. Townspeople milled about, seeming to have free rein of the grounds. Each appeared to have a specialty that they employed to repair the damage the recent incursion and battle had caused.

Each member of the guard or the community that we saw saluted as we passed. At first, I believed they were paying their respects to the highest-ranking Queen’s Guard, which would have been customary, but by the tenth or eleventh salute, I had the uncomfortable realization they were addressing me.

“What is going on?” I asked the walking rainbow leading me around. I was starting to feel like this was less of a tour and more of a parade. “Why are all of these people being… nice to me?”

“They just wish to show their gratitude, my captaen.”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” The word had not been used to describe me in a very long time, and I itched at the sudden change.

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More townsfolk passed by and saluted. From the look of the burn marks on their clothing, and the heavy leather aprons, these had the look of blacksmiths. “Captaen!” they said in unison. I frowned.

“Why do you look so angry?” Erelith asked with genuine confusion.

“That is your title, not mine. The better question is why are you so comfortable with them disrespecting you?”

She took a long moment to consider my question, though her face remained completely unmoved. “You are the last King’s Guard.”

“So what?” I interrupted. I had lived countless moons in seclusion. The old times had faded from people’s hearts and tongues long ago. “Why does that matter now?”

“Because you give them something to believe in again…You give us all something to believe in.” The fairy waited until another group of people had passed then continued. “I know you exiled yourself after the Fall of Gorias. I suspect that you pushed the memory of your time in the Guard so far from your mind and assumed that even the others had forgotten…and many did. They forgot about your sacrifice. But now they are remembering that you have been here all along.”

“I don’t need a pep-talk from you, kid,” I muttered, feeling the familiar weight of old regrets pressing in.

"Don’t you feel it?" she asked, her neutral expression softening just slightly. "A new age is dawning."

I scowled at her, even though I knew she was right. I had felt it since the night of the Cold Moon.

“It matters,” Erelith continued. “Because the Silverwhite blades represent something we wish we could all be.”

“What?” I asked. I found myself truly curious about what she might say.

"Fearless and honorable." Her voice caught, and for the first time, I saw the faintest flicker of emotion in her eyes. “Selfless."

I looked at the young Ellyllon. Her face betrayed no shame at having let slip how she felt. It was all too serious for my liking.

“You forgot wise and benevolent,” I cracked.

She smiled softly and began walking. I followed, glad she hadn’t pressed her point. I respected her more for it. She led me from one end of the castle to the other. Once I became accustomed to the attention, the parade began to feel more like the tour it was meant to be, and I saw the state of things.

Not all workers were focused on repairs. Many worked to strip the dead of their pilfered booty. I saw Morias there overseeing the organization of the items and the coin. The treasure vault was being filled again.

Badb assisted with the collection of stolen items from their own troops. It seemed that even those under the influence of the god of frenzy were not immune to the lure of greed. What they couldn’t do was hide that greed from the god of fate.

Nemain’s job appeared to be rounding up the survivors of both armies, which she then redistributed into companies under each banner, the red of Gorias and the green of Findrias. After the ground troops were organized to her liking, I knew she would shift her focus to the Gorias navy.

I grimaced, seeing Nemain’s fiacha shadowing her wherever she went. They wore their cruelty on their faces as they made sure the soldiers followed Nemain’s every command. They seemed to have gained a mystique, based on the changelings’ fearful whispers about what they had seen of the brutalized remains of the Fomorians who had crossed blades with those Ellyllon.

In stark contrast, I witnessed a rare, but not unwelcome, sighting of Aengus Og in the courtyard. The handsome god was enlisting and initiating a whole continent of townsfolk into the Gorias military. He mingled and laughed among the people there. He embraced them and appreciated them, and they loved him like a brother for it.

I didn’t see the third sister in or around the castle. But then, Macha had never been one to get her hands dirty. She was more at home in the throne rooms and courthouses than on the battlefield. Funny, that... Politics had always made me feel grimier than any dirt or blood.

Erelith was about to lead me back into the castle when a cheer went up among the new recruits. “Captaen!” someone shouted.

The cheering spread like wild magic in a summer storm, and before long everyone in the courtyard had joined in. The shouting cheers coalesced into a unified chant of “Captaen! Captaen!”

I suddenly became very self-conscious of my broken wing. I found myself unable to raise my eyes to meet those of the frenzied soldiers, but I did peek up finally, making eye contact with Nemain. The edge of her mouth was curled up in a cross between a smile and a sneer. I didn’t know what her expression meant, but I did wonder if Nemain’s frenzy domain hadn’t added to the reaction of the people in the courtyard.

Erelith seemed to sense my discomfort. She turned to lead me back into the interior of the castle, away from the chanting.

We made our way toward the meeting room where Bren, Morias, Tadg, and I had learned about the death of Bres. The walls still held the scorch marks from where Brigid had called on her fire domain to stop me from attacking her Queen’s Guard.

“I am to leave you here,” Erelith started to say something else, but I held out a finger to stop her. I had heard my fill of Captaens for the day. She stared at my face a moment, then quietly took her exit.

I wasn’t alone in the room. I turned to the god of fealty and the god of magic, who sat at the far end of the long table. Macha and The Dagda waited patiently for me and the rest of the Tuatha Dé Danann to join the first council meeting presided over by someone other than Brigid or Bres.

I bowed low to the patriarch of Gorias and heard his voice echo in my mind.