10: Fresh Air

Golden sunlight filtered from the tips of leaves on the highest bough of the highest tree Alexandrie could find to her face, eyes sparkling with relief. With a deep, deep intake of breath, those silent tears fell from grateful grieving eyes. A little of the constriction (just a little) in her chest released as she looked up into the infinite sky and drank in the colours she saw there. The gift she had been given by Re’ne’shi sat lightly in her hands, inert as the daylight reached it. 

With Lucas so far away, Re’ne’shi and Re’ne’mala so far below, Chevalier gone (for now), Grandmère, Maman et Papa almost a world away now…whatever it was that La Chanson wanted was close. The little thread that had tugged her out of Shining Capital was a golden lasso now, the music - once so far away - now filled caverns and frightened away the things in the dark (or drew them closer). She was so far from everything she knew, but now…looking up…she was still beneath the same sky. No longer underground, the feel of warmth on her skin but not the same at all - a breeze? Moving, cool air after the oppressive still warmth.

Another deep breath and she let herself smile at the dawn.

Maybe everything would be alright. Spider said he wouldn’t leave, Mysel and Heofonræsele would be with her until they got Chevalier back…

She hadn’t been joking - or lying - when she said she appreciated Mysel for his age. It was hard to explain, but she often felt as though she was also two things at once:

Elves lived a long time, and so the perspective of maturity was very different to that of humans. Humans had such a brief lifetime that they moved on with adulthood very quickly. Sometimes Alexa wondered (just to herself) whether being a half elf meant she was both things, one or neither. Her ears were not as long and pointed as Papa’s, but they were not rounded. The others her age in court - human and Dragonborn both - had been more mature than she. She knew because Maman had lamented and Papa had expected it. Her age in summers meant she had lived long enough to contribute to society, but she was still very much a young adolescent by elvish standards.

Which was where Mysel fit in. He was on his way backward. Much slower, of course, but still.

All the teenagers she knew had fought so hard to look grown up. To act grown up. Mysel didn’t bother with that. Probably because he’d already done it…but even so.

It was nice. It was nice to have a conversation with someone and not feel belittled or mocked or…placated. She wished she’d had friends her age before. 

Maybe it would have been alright to have a sibling.

Maybe.

Standing at the elevator, Alexa had been both desperate to climb on and reticent to move her feet. The discussion over dinner had left her very confused about how to read the way people treated her, and she wasn’t sure if Re’ne’shi blushed for positive or negative reasons, but Alexa was sure she wasn’t as happy about leaving as she should be. She still didn’t understand Shi. She certainly didn’t understand Mala, and now she would be travelling with arguably more confusing people who didn’t seem to mind being confusing.

Mala had been entirely incorrect in her assumption, but Alexa didn’t really care. In truth, the half elf couldn’t tell if people liked her or not, so the easiest thing to do was assume they didn’t - it was less painful this way. There had been a brief time she had thought she and Ellinora could be friends - and that had gone very poorly. If anything, Alexandrie spent a lot of time trying not to care too much - as Shi had said, be too nice and people would use you (something Maman had said that had proven very true). 

When Re’ne’shi handed her the gift, she had been caught entirely by surprise. Shi had been kind when she lost Chevalier, and she was sure they blamed themselves for losing Chevalier and Lucas but so much of what happened was…fate. Destiny. Expected. 

Expected. 

She had expected for so much to go wrong. She just didn’t know what…and she hadn’t expected things to go that wrong, so 

It was nice to leave. 

But it was nice to have friends.

Just for a little while.

Even with all that had happened it was nice not to be alone.

And Mysel was right - she could find someone who could find Mala and Shi. They were friends now. Maybe they would see them again. If they passed back.

Her fingers closed around the orb. It would only work in the dark, but she asked the question anyway:

Will you look after them?

No.

The response baffled her. The siblings had looked after them. The siblings were the reason they had got this far. Did they not need La Chanson’s help - or were they too far away? Or did La Chanson not care about them? Was it looking after Spider? Was it looking after her?

Yes. It was. It had sent a dragon. A mythical creature had been sent to her aid. What more could it do? And it gave her the ability to help those around her. To…to change the world for them, perhaps. Save the world…

What if it had poured all its ability into her…what if it couldn’t even talk properly because it was so much effort to put everything it had into her. Shouldn’t she be grateful?

Grateful for what, though? Being led through the world, into the Oonderverld and out again like all those storybooks? Like Grandmère’s stories…

Grandmère’s stories had never sounded so difficult. Grandmère’s stories had a lot less death, a lot less loss, more people…why? Why hide the truth? Did it really think she wouldn’t go to it if she weren’t told the truth? 

Would you have?

She didn’t know. She knew something needed to be done, and she was here to do it. If she’d known it would lead to such heartache…?

Whatever it needed must be important. For it to risk all this, and call a dragon and a boy to help her. To call a young adult with no experience…whatever it wantedd, it didn’t want her influenced. 

Well, she’d been influenced now. 

By so much.

Now what?

Above ground, (relatively) familiar sights and sounds and smells around her, she could consider the practical consequences of helping La Chanson. The practical consequences of…of using it. For doing with it what she did. Eyes on the line of mountains, she traced the jagged edges of the world.

A giant maw preparing to eat them up.

She didn’t truly expect to come back, but she didn’t think of that often. Not anymore. Easier to hope and keep moving.

Was Lucas somewhere over those mountains? Training with - training an army? 

An army…

Don’t kill the guy up front. Kill the leader until no one wants to lead. 

Did this always work? Who was Genofeva working for? Who had tried to erase Heo and Mysel? Was someone trying to kill La Chanson? Could La Chanson die? Was it the leader - or was she? And if she were, that meant more arrows pointed at her.

Mala was good with a bow. Very good. But she couldn’t possibly be the only one. Others were good with bows and wanted Alexandrie dead.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, but she refused to climb down.

So long in the dark - so long hiding - so long trying to learn who she was and who she wanted to be.

She’d learned only two absolute truths of herself:

Unlike the rose she had given Shi, she thrived on daylight. 

And she was very stubborn indeed.