Approximately 185 years ago
I frowned darkly at my mother. “I don’t know what your game is here, but I’m not going to be a part of it.”
Mother gave a sigh like she was dealing with an impossible creature – which I suppose she was. “Come, come, Kaleen, don’t be stubborn. Your father’s dying, and you’ll inherit the crown.”
I didn’t want the crown, though, and she did. The only reason why I wouldn’t say that is because I didn’t think she should have it – nor that it was safe to let her have it. My parents’ marriage was one of convenience, and they spent their entire married lives trying to outplay each other. To both of them, I was just a pawn in that game. I’d tried to get free, tried to find a different path, but if it came down to it…I didn’t want to just let my mother take the crown. The real question, though, was whether that was her goal all along, and by making me think she wanted it, that I was just playing into her hand.
Lovely family reunion, right? I hadn’t seen my parents in almost 30 years and all I could think about was mind games like this was some massive form of chess.
I crossed my arms and stared at her. “And?” I waited for her to get to the point.
“I can help you,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t want the crown, we both know that – you’re too invested in your hobby of – what was it? Fistfighting? Whatever it is,” she made a dainty motion with her handkerchief as if wiping away such an undignified idea from her mind, “you can keep doing that and I’ll handle things on this end. We don’t need to have a succession war or anything like that, but everyone can be happy in the end.”
She definitely seemed to want the crown, but I still couldn’t determine if this was some elaborate scheme. “I know perfectly well how to rule, Mother,” I informed her coldly. “In case you’ve forgotten, I spent decades learning until Father dearest was satisfied with my progress and formally announced me as his heir.”
Mother smiled a strained smile. “But we know you did not enjoy any of those years. I just want you to be happy, dear,” she told me with such a fake smile I nearly rolled my eyes, “and we both know ruling won’t make you happy.”
“Whatever.” I turned towards the ornate door on the far side of the room. “I came here to talk to Father, not you, so if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”
In the reflection on the gold trim on the door, I could see the angry expression which crossed her face, the frustration which – for a second – she didn’t bother to hide. Her desire was most likely real, then. If that was the case, I was likely going to have to do what I didn’t want to do and inherit the crown despite my distaste for the idea.
Dealing with Father, while not as frustrating as dealing with Mother, was its own headache. He kept reminding me about things he wanted me to do, kept asking if I remembered something, and never left me time to say anything more than “Yes, Father” or “No, Father.” I tried to cut him some slack, reminding myself he was old and dying, but it was hard. Truth was, Father didn’t want me to be a good ruler – he wanted me to be him. He just wanted a carbon copy of himself to sit on the throne. My own ideas about what was important or not were irrelevant to him.
No matter, really. If I took the crown, then once it was mine, I could do whatever I wanted and throw all of Father’s traditional, archaic notions out the window. For now, placate him, pretend to enjoy likely my last moments with my father alive, and inwardly wonder what it might have been like if I’d had a real family instead of this whole scheming parody that was my parents and me.
By the time I finally left the capital of the elf kingdom and rode back to my real home, I was seething. Sick of playing the royal games for even a few days. If I took the crown, I promised myself, I’d change all that. Turn the elf kingdom back into the strong warriors we once were. That was our heritage, that was who we were supposed to be – not people too busy playing at partying to care about what happened in the world around us.
We were different than most supernaturals. We didn’t have magic of our own, exactly – ours was more of a passive thing that lent us an upper hand in battle. We were stronger, faster, hardier than most species. Poisons affected us less, we healed quicker from injuries, we could withstand more of any kind of magic than most of our supernatural counterparts. It made us particularly strong warriors, something I wanted to see returned to our people.
Which is why I engaged in my “hobby,” as Mother dear called it. Brawling. It wasn’t the wild uncivilized thing she pictured. Well, not quite. More like an organized fight club, as it were, with matches leading to tournaments and titles which could be earned from countries and even worldwide. Supernaturals only, of course. It was a chance to show off my elvish strength and remind people that elves were something to be feared.
It helped that I’d found a good partner. Solo fights, sure, I could master most of those, but for the pairs matches, I’d found someone I could work well with and together we’d won titles. Several. Then more as the years passed. We were coming up on a big tournament as the defending champions. I had a simple plan in mind – after this, I wanted to start a brawling club in the elf kingdom, training the elves how to fight again, then going to matches with other supernaturals until all of the top brawlers were elves. That was my goal. Show the world just how strong elves really were. Without bloodshed. Well, without death, at least. Blood, eh, some was going to be shed in these matches, but it was different than going to war with someone. To me, this was a better way of showing off our strength than trying to threaten another supernatural kingdom with war. Besides of the risk of death, outright war risked humans seeing us. It’s hard to completely hide an entire battle. Right now, humans might wander across supernatural towns and just think they’d met some really unfriendly people, but if there was evidence of a battle, well…it was always better not to have humans investigate too much.
After putting away my horse, I headed to the quarters where me and my partner were staying. She was already there, back from her own trip – we’d both decided to take trips before this match to relax some, though visiting my parents definitely was not relaxing – sitting quietly at the window.
I was too busy tossing my saddlebags towards the door of my room to notice how troubled she looked. “That went about as well as expected. They will never change.”
I picked up a piece of bread and started tearing into it, wishing I had some meat instead but my partner was a fairy, so she never went out and got some on her own. “I’m so ready for this fight – I need something to work out my anger.”
“Kaleen,” she started to say.
“After that, back to the elf kingdom – I’ll probably have to inherit the stupid crown, but at least that means I can fund a brawler’s club there, right? You and I are going to whip them into shape.”
She flinched slightly. “Kay,” she began again.
“When we come back next year, we should have a whole bunch of elves with us. Or maybe the year after that. Depends on how long it takes them to start rising in the ranks, but I figure it can’t be too long. It’s in their blood.” I sliced off some cheese and started eating that as well.
“Kaleen!” She said louder this time.
I stopped and finally looked at her, for the first time really noticing how uncomfortable she looked and how she was wringing her hands slightly.
My eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong? Did they change up the tournament order? Is that judge trying to mess with us because I chewed him out for his favoritism? That is so unfair!” I started to rant.
“No! Kaleen, listen, please.” She stood up and took a step forward. “This isn’t about the match. Well, not exactly.”
“Okay.” I eyed her uncertainly. “What’s wrong, then?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m retiring after this match,” she said all at once, like she was in a hurry to get it out.
For a long moment, neither of us said anything.
“Come again?” I finally broke the silence, my tone eerily calm.
She sighed. “This – all of this – it’s your dream, it’s not mine. I came here to prove that fairies aren’t weak and pushovers just because we’re light end magic and we like flowers and healing. I wanted to prove something to myself, and to everyone else, and – and I did. But now,” she hesitated, “now I have something else I want to do. I met a soulmate,” she explained.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me. “So you met some guy, girl, whoever, and now you want to just give up? What the hell is wrong with you?”
She flinched, but continued. “He showed me a different side of being a fairy. That it’s possible to be strong and powerful without having to fight all the time. I – I like his view of fairies. And I want to be family with him.”
“So let me get this straight.” I folded my arms across my chest, glaring at her. “You want to give up being at the top of the brawling world to start making fairy babies? You’re going to just become a mother or something? That’s what you want now?”
She frowned a little, unbothered by my ire but not by my words. “Well, being a mother isn’t as evil as you’re painting it, it’s just different. But no, we’re not planning on having kids yet – probably not for decades, at least. I just want to be a family with him first. I want to start something together with him. This,” she motioned around her, “this is me, this isn’t him. He’s leaving his own career, too, and instead we’re going to make something of our own, together.”
“So you’re giving up what you love for some guy.” I still couldn’t believe this. She of all people understood what brawling meant, and she was just giving it up for someone she just met?
“I love him more,” she said gently, shocking me even worse. “We’re soulmates, and, well, he’s just right for me. There’s something about him that makes me feel better than I ever have just by being with him. And like I said – I already did what I came here to do. This is more your arena than mine. I stayed because I had fun with you, but now – now I have a new path to follow. I’ll be here for the match tomorrow,” she told me, “but then it’s time for me to start a new life.”
I shook my head, disgusted, and instead went to my room, unwilling to even look at her.
Years of partnership ending just like that thanks to some guy. She was going to give this all up for a simple life of having babies or whatever.
I flung a book against the wall in anger, suddenly wishing this match was today instead of tomorrow. I needed something to take out my anger on now.
By the time morning came around, I was angrier than ever, but ready for this fight. She was geared up, too, and she looked at me hesitantly as I emerged from my room, weapons and armor donned.
“Kaleen,” she started.
I held up a hand to interrupt her. “Let’s do this match,” I informed her. “Then you’re free to go do whatever stupid thing you want to do. You’ll never be stuck doing this again. But I hope I never see you again after this. Ever.”
On those words, I marched out to face our last match together.
Comments (14)
See all