For Glory, of Memories Unspoken
The room was flooded by puzzled eyes and shocked expressions when Zelpher began his tirade. Eylinn stared at her defender, not sure what to think of it. Gratitude? Shame? As the Elf ended his speech with an apology, he left the room to calm himself down.
“What just happened?” She asked Alvon with a faint whisper.
“You’ve lost the argument.” He said with his usual blank expression.
“Are you serious? Why me?”
“He defended your honour.” She shrank a little in her chair, and imagined being invisible for a moment. She wanted to say something.
“Should I say something?”
“Oh dear... No, no.” She was at a loss. Politics was hard.
How could no one see she just wanted the fighting to stop? For the rulers in the assembly to understand the plight of the whole realm? How Elves were abused by the Nords? Kvothe seemed to have taken great offence to her speech, but it wasn’t meant as personal. Indeed, she was furious with his actions, but most of all, she didn’t trust him. And how couldn’t more people see his past actions as a treachery towards all life living? Could he just not have admitted he had done wrong? Could no one else see it at the very least was untimely to prioritize conquest with the current events unfolding?
Zelpher returned to challenge the Nord to a duel. She liked that. With a little luck, the rugged thug could be slain. “What a horrible thing to say.” Her mind, heart and hands were struggling to grasp the concept. “You’re letting fear take you over again.” Funny, she wasn’t aware her fear had ever left.
She looked around the assembly. Wrothiron, of the Deagrin Dwarves, already had his one eye fixed at her. “He probably hates you for what happened to his kin.” That wasn’t fair. From Eylinn’s memory came the instant sensation of Burntbeard’s blood covering her face. “It wasn’t your fault.” She shied away her gaze downwards, inspecting her hands that she had placed on her lap. “Maybe he just thinks you’re weak.” She was not aware that there was any dispute in that regard.
It became more and more apparent that the duel was not going to happen. Ra'Gru stormed in, revealing the news of the plot to find a weakness in the necromancer.
“We better prepare the men.” Alvon said more audible this time.
“Yeah...” The assembly had closed. All that remained was war.
Eylinn sat in her tent, resting her head on her hand. “Your first time leading the men into battle.” She smiled. At least this she knew she was good at. “How would you know? You’ve never done it before.” Her smile disappeared. This was no time to doubt herself. She started thinking about nothing instead. Much better... A captain entered the tent. She straightened her back and looked at him.
“Mistress, the troops are ready to march with the Golden Army.”
“Understood.” The captain beat his chest in salute. He quickly looked down on the ground below Eylinn, then turned and disappeared through the canvas shield. What was that about? She looked down. Her leg was shaking.
“Dammit...” She hated diplomacy. Playing brave for a few hours at end weren’t her forte it would seem like.
Alvon entered.
“Well. They’re moving out soon.” He said.
“Yes, just let me fetch my equipment and we’ll be...”
“You’re not going.” Eylinn froze in her step.
“Excuse me?”
“You won't be leading them.” Her ears turned red.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is no time for jokes. Save it for the ride south.”
“I’m not joking.” Eylinn became irritated. She wrinkled her nose, putting her instable leg behind the more obedient one.
“You don’t have any saying in this. Now, if you don’t want to go, I won’t stop you. But you should start guarding your tongue around me. I’m a ruler, and I’m no child no more.”
“You’re right about that. And you’re not going.” She approached him, trying a different tactic.
“Look, I hate those meetings. I’m not even trying to hide it. They do scare me. So if you could stop acting like my guardian for a second and actually be a little supportive, I would appreciate it.”
“I am. You’re not going.” She turned sour.
“Enough! Leave me alone!” And just as she was about to turn around, Alvon pushed her to the ground. “What... How dare you?!” She got on her feet, practically exploding. Alvon pushed her down again. “Stop it!” She made a graceful jump back up again. And again, Alvon just pushed her down on her back. “Get out!!” She furiously pointed at the door, her whole body burning with rage. Alvon grabbed her hand and forced it to the ground as he bowed down with his knee on her stomach. It was painful. “What are you doing?! You’re hurting me!”
“You’re not going. That’s the end of it.” She was powerless. She tried to hit him with her left hand. In what must have been the split of a second, Alvon raised his knee, and trapped her free arm under his boot, right by the wrist. He now sat on her pelvis, and it hurt.
“Enough! This isn’t even remotely funny from any angle anymore! Get off me now, or I will call for the guards!” Alvon slowly drew his sword and placed the tip, right over her heart. She was paralyzed, speechless. “They bought you... Those Nords... How...?” She tried to read his face, but it was in its usual, emotionless state. Her eyes teared up. She fixed them at his, trying to read his soul. There was nothing there. An enigma. “How could you do this to me...?” She whimpered. She had given up.
“You’re not stable.” He left her gaze, and moved it to the blade. “You were weak in that room. That’s why you’re weak now.” She wasn’t ready to die. Could she top Kvothe’s offer, whatever it might have been? She wanted to give him a price, but her lips only briefly opened and closed. Her voice would break.
“I... I... Just...” She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. “Please don’t make it hurt... Please do it clean.” Her every syllable trembled. Alvon didn’t seem to pay any notice.
“It’s time you start using these.” He lifted the sword and tapped the blade on her left breast. She stopped breathing. She started shaking. The world turned purple and distorted. She jerked her head to the side, still refusing to breath.
“You fu...” She had yet to inhale, hissing the words as they came out through her teeth. “Fu... Get... Off...” She would not open her eyes.
“It’s about time you grew up. Your father is dead, and your sister’s your heir. If you don’t have a child, your house will extinguish. Cease to be. No more flame of Barumin to protect the Green Chasm.” She altered between heavy, and no breathing. Tears had made the soil wet, and dirtied her face. “There was not a man in that room who didn’t desire you. You could have any of them to marry. You were blessed by the Light in this regard. You must use it, or others will use it against you. Without a marriage, you leave your people to fend for themselves.”
“Off... Get off...” She drew a few heavy breaths. A strange mix of rage and mind-numbing fear was boiling up at an alarming rate inside of her. “
I... Will... Kill you... ” Alvon lowered an eyebrow. “
You... Sedated... Bag... of
Filth...” She inhaled through the nose, relaxed her shoulders and tilted her head into the grass, exposing her neck. “Kill me... Clean...”
“What in the world happened to you? I thought I’d seen all you’ve seen for the past six years.” Alvon studied her. Her increasingly pounding jugular exposed her racing heart-beat.
“Shut... Up... Kill...” She opened her eyes and looked at him, a stare with an almost unnatural glow. “
Me...”
Alvon was unfocused for not even a second, and she took her chance. With almost impossible force she broke her right hand free and pushed his sword, hand guard first, into his forehead, so hard he was forced backwards. With a roar, she had slithered herself from under his body, grabbed the sword, and hit him over the temple with the hilt. He flung helplessly to the ground, and dark, red blood formed an elegant stream from his ear to his chin. She drew the sword over her head, as far back as she could muster, point aiming towards his face. Her right leg stretched backwards, she shrank, leaving no opening and making herself a small target. It was perfect. She had a predator’s eyes, and her face was twisted. The kill would be fast.
But then her face suddenly lost all activity. A blank, sad expression spread over it. Alvon’s sword fell from her hands. Her breathing settled. She stood up, only to fall to her knees.
“Nice punch.” It seemed only fair of him to say, for it was.
“I thought they'd bought you...” She kept staring at him in shock. “You made me ready to die...” Alvon stood up, slightly dizzy and disoriented. He walked up to her and put his hand on her head.
“There’s nothing in this world that could buy my loyalty. That part of my life has passed.” He crouched and laid his arm around her, her head rested on his chest. She wanted to say father, but she didn’t speak. “But I will tell you the hard truths. And I don’t tell hard truths gently, because you’re no gentle woman.” She looked up on his face. “You’re a warrior, with a frail soul.” She looked down again, not exactly comforted. “You can’t stop nature. Children grow in women. And we will need the help from another house.”
“I won’t. I won’t ever.” They both rose up. “I will marry my sister to someone. But I will never...” She swallowed to stabilize her vocal chords. “Please, just don’t ask me to. Because I won’t.”
“You’ve been shaken since Highothar. You should head home.”
“Yes. I will. Fine.” She smiled again. “Live to fight another day then.” Alvon inspected her visibly.
“You’re dirty. You should clean yourself up.”
“Yeah... I will.” Alvon left the tent, leaving Eylinn alone again. “Don’t leave me...” She said to no one.
After some serious washing and a dress change, Eylinn spoke to the troops and told that she would not be joining them, or lead them into battle with the Corpus horde. She assured them no Nord would be leading their flank, and that you can always trust an Orc in command. She warned them that among the plagued armies were men from their own lands, now corrupted and out for the blood of their own. She told them to liberate them in a manner they deserve. As true Elves of the Chasm. Then she and Alvon rode north in silence with a small entourage.
And so ended her first Assembly of Lords.