—
“Run,” The whisper was soft, the drow taking only a single look as the wood elf took a step away, hesitant.
“I… can’t leave you…” She whimpered softly, the cuffs dropping to the ground, she looked down, before taking another step back.
“One of us deserves a chance,” Fi smiled gently, the first yell echoing from beside the pair, having been discussing details for the upcoming match.
The nameless wood elf took one more step, before turning and sprinting, tears rolling down her face.
—
“Luna.” The voice echoed softly in the cold cell.
“What?” The wood elf looked towards the drow, “What the hell you on about?”
“You won’t give me your name, so I’ll give you one, Luna Sanguinem, Moon of Blood, something that people will remember when you get free,” She looked to the sky, “Something for them to call you when you fight to change our world.”
“I don’t need a name, I don’t deserve one,” She shrunk away slightly, “Whoever I was died with them, I have no right to still be sitting here.” She moved to stand, looking out the window, to the full moon, “I can’t go home, I can’t go back to my people.”
—
“Nora! Run!” The elder redhead screamed to her daughter, the warrior pressing a blade to the elders throat.
“Mother!” She inched away towards the edge, her father ripping people apart as a wolf, desperately trying to save his family. Arms grabbed the girl from behind, forced down to the ground as the throat of her mother was sliced quickly, blood from the blade whisked to the ground in front of her.
There was a primal sound of grief and rage from the animal, the last thing the girl remembered.
—
The woman the drow had called Luna, much older, ran, she ran hard and fast, tears rolling down her face, she had changed, future leader and sorceress, to a strong warrior, just strong enough to survive fighting the weak she was pitted against. The champion stumbled, her ankle rolling in the dirt as she curled into herself. Sobs shook her shoulders, her heart freshly broken.
—
The silver haired elf shot an arrow, the deer falling to his shot. It was years after the girls escape. Her arrow was knocked shakily, peeking out between leaves. She took a shaky breath, the crude bow drawn back to her shoulder.
He looked up at where she sat, tilting his head at the shaking leaves, lifting a hand in a wave, "You are aware you are trespassing correct?"
—
Little kisses stolen in between moments, two loves, Aesar and Fi, mirrored moments. She had been a captive in both, a champion in one, an untrusted trespasser in the other. Stolen kisses in the light of the window, pretending that they could be free and together, bars and guards making it clear they never could, the moon and stars the only witnesses to the growing love between the pair. Stolen kisses on the rare moments, years after their first meeting, when the pair were outside the watchful eyes of the others, out on overnight hunting parties, or townward shopping trips. Never stolen in public eyes, under the eyes of none but the same moon and stars who had witnessed the first.
—
Vomit and pain, panic and heartache as the physician told her the news. A hand drifting to the small bump she hadn't even seen form, they had become free, but what life would the child have away from her people? His reaction the same as hers to the news, scared, though far more hopeful for a better future than the past they had seen. An attitude contagious, a life that perhaps, could be truly lived. --
—
Pain, and a cry, a warm little form against her chest, tears streaming from her eyes as she held her newborn daughter, "Kairi." She whispered the name her and the baby's father had chosen. The man himself stepping through the door, staring in awe at his girls on the clinic bed, his face lighting up when her eyes met his. His steps brought him to their sides, his knees shaking as he sat beside them, arm wrapping around his bride, other hand reaching a hand for his daughter, "She's here..." The woman murmured, leaning into him, the struggle and pain, the panic attacks and close calls were almost over, their little family was complete.
—
She screamed his name as he pushed her ahead, "I'll be right behind you..." The last words she heard as she and the child were pushed through the portal, her paladin standing between them and the hoard, a far cry from the man she met, hunter to guardian. She turned to protect the child with her body as they found the floor, curled around the little girl as she heard the yell, that yell, smelled the holy fire, and heard the crunch of bones beneath insectoid feet.
—
"Let me take his mantle." The words quiet as she held a familiar blade, the shield laid to rest with her lover, "I will be whatever you need to ensure my daughter has the future she was promised, please!" Her tone raised as she glanced back at the urn and shield, two wedding rings on a chain around her neck, where they would stay forever, "Let me uphold his legacy and give her peace." The tears flowed as the clergy stared at the distraught widow, "Please... he wouldn't want us to stop, and for her not to get what she deserves."
—
The blade cleaved, rending the shell of the bound creature in two, the vines retreating under the hateful glare of the now paladin. She looked to the others, eyebrow raising as they watched the woman destroy what stood in her way, "If you have an issue with my methods, take it up with the high cleric." She turned sharply, "Come, some of us have additional duties to attend to." She stepped towards the portal, feet hesitating as she looked back in an almost ritualistic way, as if waiting for someone to be just behind her, before stepping through the portal.
The demeanor of the woman changed entirely as a tiny girl ran towards her, arms reaching down to scoop up the tiny child and hold her to a hip covered in dragonscale, "Mommy! You're back!" Arms wrapped around her neck in a tight hug, paper held tightly in one of her hands. Her face found her daughters hair as she affirmed she was in fact, home. The little girl broke the hug slightly, holding out a sheet of paper, "Look what I made!"
The paladin chuckled softly, carrying her daughter towards a chair, sitting the child on her lap, before unrolling the paper, her breath catching in her throat, the drawing was simple, three figures, one small, two large, in the crude style toddlers always had, one figure, a redhead in armour, the other, a silver haired one dressed much the same, "Do you like it?" The little voice asked, "Momma? Why are you crying?"
—