The Daughter of Valancaire

Awakening

I slowly opened my eyes, letting them adjust to the soft, warm light spilling from the lamp beside me. 

The room was small, cozy, and smelled faintly of lavender and something earthy, like damp wood and old books. A fire crackled softly somewhere behind me, its golden light flickering across the walls. I tried to focus, blinking against the strange dizziness that clouded my mind, and as my eyes gradually sharpened, I saw a ceiling above me—patterned vines of an enchanting blend of rose and gold twisted across the whitewashed surface. Somehow, it looked familiar, like an old dream I couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly, a loud clatter disturbed the silence, and I flinched, my body instinctively trying to recoil, though I was unable to move.

“She’s awake! Oh, my Merlin! My love! She’s awake! Call the Medi Witch and your Lord quick!”

The voice was frantic—high-pitched and breathless—yet there was something soothing about it, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. A hand, trembling and cool, brushed against my cheek. I blinked again, trying to focus, and saw her.

A beautiful woman was leaning over me, her eyes wide with panic. She had hair the color of spun gold, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves, and her face was pale, tears clinging to her lashes like tiny pearls. But it was her eyes—those verdant green eyes—that held me, locked me in a gaze filled with desperation, tenderness, and love. 

I tried to speak, my lips moving, but no sound escaped. The effort sent a sharp pain through my throat, and I winced. My whole body felt like it had been run over by a herd of horses, heavy and stiff. I couldn’t move, couldn’t sit up, couldn’t even lift my hand to reach for her, though I wanted to. It was as though my body was no longer my own, and only my mind was awake enough to notice the brokenness of it all.

“Don’t speak for now, my love,” she said, her voice soft and soothing, though her words trembled. “You’re alright. You’re fine.”

Her smile was warm, so painfully warm, that it stirred something deep within me. A soft pang in my heart, like the sensation of missing something precious, something I couldn’t name. Why was she crying? Why was she so desperate?

Before I could gather my thoughts, I heard faint footsteps—quiet, but drawing nearer. A shadow stretched across the room, and then, a towering figure emerged behind her. A man, broad and sturdy, his face weathered and lined with age, yet somehow still striking. His hair was dark—black, like the night—and his beard was thick, framing a face that seemed like it had seen the weight of many years. But it was his eyes—those eyes—that stopped me.

A deep shade of blue I couldn’t quite place. Like the depth of a midnight sky, too dark to be fully known, but endlessly vast. And those eyes were full of something else. Pain. Grief. Something raw that spoke of years of unspoken suffering.

He knelt beside me, and I felt his rough, calloused hands take mine. He kissed it gently, his lips lingering on my skin. His shoulders trembled, shaking as he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

“My daughter, finally… my daughter,” he said, the words nearly choking him. His hand was warm in mine, but the tremor in his grip betrayed his sadness.

Daughter? 

The word rang in my ears, echoing through my mind. *Daughter.* But… I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything. I could feel the world slipping out of my grasp, my memories slipping away just as quickly as they came.

I tried to focus, to make sense of this strange, surreal moment. The pain in my head throbbed again, and with it, a flood of fragmented images rushed forward—sharp, vivid flashes. It was like a movie reel, flickering erratically before me. One moment, I was here, in this room, unable to move, and the next, I was somewhere else entirely, somewhere distant.

I saw a child—me?—playing in a sun-drenched field, a woman with golden hair smiling beside me. I saw a man, tall and strong, lifting me up into the air, my laughter ringing in the breeze. I saw a dinner table, a family gathered together, hands reaching out to one another in joy and love. 

*No. Wait…* 

The images came faster now, too many to make sense of. Faces blurred together, sounds overlapping—fragments of my life that didn’t quite fit together, memories that didn’t feel like mine. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold onto something, anything. But it was as if the more I tried to grasp, the more it slipped away. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the flood of memories stopped. I was left gasping, disoriented, my chest heavy. The room spun, and the ache in my body worsened, sending a cold wave of panic through me.

“What?! What the bloody hell is happening? Where is that damn witch! Drag her here if you must!” the sturdy man roared, his voice loud and rough, his fists clenched by my side. I could feel his frustration, his helplessness hanging thick in the air.

The woman beside me flinched at his words, her hand tightening around mine as she turned toward him. “She’s still weak! Please—give her time,” she pleaded, her voice almost breaking. She looked at me, her eyes full of that same desperate love. “Please, my love. Stay with us. Stay with me.”

I wanted to answer. I wanted to ask them who they were, what had happened to me. But the words wouldn’t come, my throat too raw, my mind too scattered. Instead, I let my eyes drift closed, retreating into the shadows behind my eyelids. 

And as I did, I could have sworn I heard her whispering something to me. A name, perhaps? A promise?

*Stay with me...*