heartbreak
(( note - this is an older piece expanding on lyadri’s backstory. it’s not the first time I’ve shared it with anyone, I just wanted to put it on here. ))
It started off like any other day.
The sun's rays gently woke the lovers, dancing over their eyes and providing gentle reminder that it was time to rise. Lyadrí rested her head against her husband's bare chest for a long moment, basking in his warm embrace, before sighing to herself and sitting up. Yet again, she'd woken first. How would he ever manage time without her? Still, today was her day to look after Ilurae, and he had his Captain's duties. She looked down at him, studying his face - tousled dark blonde hair that seemed to fly everywhere in his sleep, warm blue eyes that spoke of the sky and before she'd even realised what was happening, his lips were on hers. She could feel his smile, and matched it with her own, leaning in and feeling his arms wrap around her - gods, he made her feel small. It took the birdsong outside to break their kiss, reminding them of the time, the two lovers flushed and happy in each other's arms. She gently pulled back, unwilling to look away, and broke the silence.
"Good morning, dearest of heart. Were your dreams pleasant?"
Ryseon grinned back at her. "You were there, and remain here - is this a dream? If so, then I'm still in the most pleasant dream of my life." He'd always enjoyed watching her pale cheeks flush with warmth. She flicked his shoulder. "Ah! You wound me!"
"Perhaps, but now you are certain that we're in reality. And you, my beloved, have duties today, else you could stay here in Elysium." She sounded almost wistful, but knew he'd need to go - and more importantly, that she'd need to stay, else she'd be by his side. As they had been, before Ilurae. He took her hands in his, sensing her thoughts. He'd always been perceptive.
"And you have our daughter to look after, angel. I won't be gone for more than a day, I promise. We're not making any pushes unless necessary. You know I'll be fine. If we run into trouble, I'll get us out, just like I always have." Ryseon leant forward once again, placing a feather-light kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry, Ilye."
Lyadrí sighed. "I'm never going to stop worrying about you, Erys. If I were better, I'd be able to help from here, but..."
"You've still come far, Ilye. Most mages at your age haven't done nearly as much as you have." Ryseon said gently, cutting her off. "You're going to be able to help from anywhere, one day – you'll probably be strong enough to take back Zeranith on your own, by then."
"I'd never do it on my own, because I wouldn't do it without you by my side."
Whatever he'd begun to reply was interrupted by a crashing noise from the other room. The two elves glanced at each other, and ran for the door, to be greeted with the sight of their daughter playing with the shards of a broken vase. A vase that had previously been high up on a shelf. With no way up to it. Ryseon looked at Lyadrí.
"I believe she's inherited your talents, dear."
Lyadrí closed her eyes for a moment, releasing a deep breath. "We are going to need to secure any fragile objects. And invest in waterproofing. Possibly fireproofing."
"...you were that bad, huh?"
Choosing to avoid the discussion for the moment, she strode forward and crouched next to the 6-year-old, checking her for any cuts or scrapes. Thankfully, none appeared. "Sweetheart, breaking things is bad. If you had wanted to play with the vase, you should have come to your father or myself." Ilurae pouted, clear turquoise eyes – a perfect blend of Lyadrí's green and Ryseon's blue – innocently looking up at her mother. "Mama was sleepy!" she whined plaintively, dropping the shard of china she'd been holding only for Lyadrí to whisk the pieces away with a wave. "Mamaaa..!"
"You have awoken me many times, darling. You may continue to do so." A chuckle came from behind them as both mother and daughter were pulled into a gentle hug, each letting out a noise of surprise.
"As adorable as this is, I have to head to the squadron. The sun's rising ever higher, and I can't keep them waiting forever." Ryseon said, squeezing them both lightly before standing back up. Ilurae immediately ran to him, latching onto his leg, pleading:
"Dada, play later? I wanna play swords!" He laughed an agreement and beckoned Lyadrí closer, ruffling Ilurae's hair. The couple hugged, lips meeting for a minute too long (Ilurae made a noise of complaint, letting go of her father and running to hide underneath a pillow), hands resting on certain assets, eventually pulling away.
"I meant what I said earlier, Erys. Please be careful. And... tell the others I said hello. I miss being with them, too."
"I will, angel. I'll let the others know, as well. Perhaps we can have some of them over soon, have a catch up."
"Let's. Erys?"
"Ilye?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too. Eternally and endlessly."
"Be safe.."
"Always. See you later?" "Of course. I'll wait here for you."
"Then I shall look forward to returning."
And he left, armour gleaming, cape blowing in the warm breeze of a summer's morning. The day was beautiful. Lyadrí watched him climb onto his horse and ride into the distance, waving until he was out of sight, Ilurae frantically trying to imitate her mama.
He didn't return that day, and she assumed it was some small setback, reassuring Ilurae that Dada was probably just stuck dealing with another silly situation.
Nor did he return the next. She told Ilurae that it must be like the time his horse had been kidnapped by another squadron by mistake.
The third day passed, and ended. She avoided Ilurae's questions.
A knock at her door, in the middle of the night, had her there in an instant, expecting – hoping – to be able to berate her lover for leaving her for so long without warning, only to be greeted by two solemn men in armour. They came bearing their condolences, their apologies, a chest, and a letter. There was no body for her to bury. They hadn't been able to recover it, only some of his belongings – the ones he refused to leave at home. A locket of them both, a drawing Ilurae had made him, his cape – stained with what she could only assume was his own blood.
Her Erys, her husband, was dead.
The letter was from their higher-ups. She was most qualified to take his position, but they understood she'd need time to grieve. Take however long you want, it said. The Captaincy will be yours when you're able to take it.
Ilurae had never seen her mother cry before that day, and after the week had passed, never would again. It took a few days for it to sink in to the child that her Dada wasn't coming back – would never come back again. The funeral was three days after Lyadrí had been told. It was a large affair. Ryseon had been charismatic and friendly, and many wanted to say goodbye. A week after Ryseon's death, Lyadrí accepted the Captaincy, to the concern of both those above and underneath her. She could handle it, she said. But balancing raising a child – one with occasional magical tendencies, at that – alongside her military duties, in addition to her now-hidden grief, wasn't easy. The only help she accepted was for Ilurae, and most of her friends worried in silence, hoping she'd recover over the next few years. It was six years later that she realised, in the midst of combat, that she was burning out. And it'd gotten them in trouble – she'd made a mistake. Tracks, at the edge of her vision.
"Sidhis, move!" She'd gotten him to scout ahead, not watching their position carefully enough nor thinking ahead – and now they were going to be ambushed, and he'd be hit. He had a wife, they had children – she couldn't let this happen, couldn't let her mistake ruin someone else's life. In desperation, she yelled her summoning command, bringing a pony into existence just in time for a hail of arrows to slam into it. Saving him. He turned to thank her, and she saw his eyes widen as pain blossomed through her chest, looking down to see the point of a blade exiting her stomach. Her vision faded to nothing as the sword was wrenched back, sending a wave of pain through her.
Her last thought was of Ilurae, alone, neither of her parents there to guide her – she'd wanted to spare her daughter that fate.
'I'm sorry.'
...
She hadn't expected to wake up, so it was a surprise when she did. She couldn't tell how long it had been, but she was at home, the familiar trinkets scattered all around her room, her bed far too large for just one person. The sun streamed through her window, as it always had on bright days - just the same as the morning she'd seen her lover last. She sat up and gasped sharply – pain. A look told her that her failure hadn't just been a nightmare. Bandages had been wrapped around her midsection. Somehow, they'd saved her. She waited quietly for someone to enter, contemplating what had happened in silence. It wasn't long - a servant walked in, took one look at her sitting up in bed and fled for the medics. She didn't even need to ask before they began to fill her in on all she'd missed. They told her she'd saved Sidhis, and alerted her squadron to the danger with her yell. They'd been able to save her, but it'd been close – she'd lost a lot of blood. Honestly, one confided in her, they'd thought she was dead upon arrival. She'd been so pale. The wound had been healed to the best of their ability, but such a lethal strike would always leave a mark. However, they'd done the best they could, and she would live. She wouldn't even feel any lingering pain. But even with the exceptional care they'd given her, she'd been unconscious for weeks. Her daughter had visited every day, and was being well taken care of, but they were sure she'd be glad to see her mother awake – she'd been so scared of being left alone, the poor child. Lyadrí could feel their gazes, heavy with a mix of judgement and pity. She'd heard those she disliked talking about how she'd clearly gone mad with grief. She wished she could say they were completely wrong, but she'd failed, and she'd nearly left her daughter motherless. However, she still refused to speak until Ilurae came in to see her, and even then, it was mainly to whisper apologies and love to the terrified twelve-year-old. Ilurae's first reaction, of course, was to hug her mother (carefully).
"Mama? Please don't get hurt again."
"I wasn't thinking, sweetest. I'll be more careful." And she gently pulled her daughter close, feeling Ilurae's tears spill against her chest. She closed her eyes. This was her child, and she was the cause of the tears. She'd make sure that wouldn't happen again.
As soon as she was allowed to, she tried to resign from the military. It was her fault, after all. She was a mage, why did she think she belonged on the front line? But she was refused – an ambush was out of her control, and besides, she had never failed them before. They weren't about to let such a promising captain leave over something so simple. She'd not expected that, but thinking quickly, she took leave for the first time since Ryseon's death instead. She didn't feel ready to get back into combat, not with the lingering pains in her chest. The next two years were far different to what she was used to, but in a better way than normal. Two years of spending time with her daughter, teaching her cantrips and control, telling her stories of her father and grandparents. They visited friends a lot, occasionally visiting Ryseon's remaining family to try and skate around the gaping hole his death had left, making sure to take a moment to visit his grave every summer on the anniversary of the day they'd learnt he was gone. Anything to remember him. She took Ilurae to train with those actually talented with martial weapons – various friends showing the young girl how to shoot with bows, and use their elven blades. Lyadrí found amusement in simply shooting a crossbow bolt at the target: "They're far more practical." After the two years, however, Lyadrí decided to return to her position. She had many more years she could spend away from the front line, or from the war in general, but she'd seen the soldiers. She'd seen the wounded, heard stories. They could always use a battlemage, one who could manage tactics and fighting. She knew Ilurae would protest, but she was more knowledgeable than before, more wary. She could manage this.
So, she asked to return, to the displeasure of the friends she'd spoken with about the topic. They were worried for her, she'd already changed so much because of the war. They asked about Ilurae; she deflected the questions. They encouraged her to travel instead. To learn more magic. To help the innocents who had no army behind them, even if they weren't, well, Elven. She could learn so many things. Why did she want to return to the army over that?
She ignored all of them, deciding to be confident in herself and not let Ryseon down.
Her leaders were gentle with their rejection. "We have spoken with your companions, and we believe it would serve you well to experience culture outside Elvandír. Your position is being taken care of. You will maintain your rank as Captain, but we are denying your request to return to the frontlines. Most soldiers travel before dying, Captain An'thimael. Experience the outside world, then return and bring your powers to our men." The General was calm, polite and yet firm with her – he was far older, of course, and she wasn't the first to attempt to devote her life to the cause.
"...Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand. What--" She almost didn't believe she'd been denied, keeping her face as neutral as possible. To be told that she needed to wander was unfathomable. Ilurae – she couldn't just leave her.
"Captain, you are young. Whilst experienced, you've not learnt much of the world. If we are to remain an informed nation, we must have some travel out and learn. As you seek knowledge of the arcane and are a trustworthy and upstanding member of the community, you are a perfect asset for this. Treat it as leave, if you will, but travel. Learn all you can, and keep us proud."
"…Yes, sir." She left the hall in silent fury, understanding their logic yet despising it. Leaving... She'd miss precious years of Ilurae's life, but if it was for her nation, there wasn't much choice in the matter. Three months later, she'd packed her bags, said her goodbyes. Ilurae would take care of Ryseon's mementos, and her friends would in turn care for Ilurae. She didn't want to risk losing the last remnants of her husband, nor did she want to even think about losing the only family she had left. They promised to keep in touch. She informed them that if they failed to, she would return as soon as possible to see what was wrong. Ilurae had giggled at that.
And so Captain Lyadrí An'thimael left her home for the first time, scarred, a touch cynical, resistant to change both out of lingering resentment and of sheer habit, determined to do all she could to prove herself superior - and ever-loyal to Elvandír.