What Makes a Home
Distantly, she could hear the crash of the waves on the shores not too far from the place she lived. Her home in exile. She swallowed at that, the moonlight haloing her paling hair, even as the fire of the living room crackled and popped. It was one of many living rooms she had long since discovered, and it was the one she usually felt the most comfortable sequestering herself away in.
On the low table in front of her sat several letters, each with a looping script declaring them for Aerloth. Her breath came out in a soft, long sigh. Part of her craved to be back in the smithy, far away from those still sealed envelopes which made her stomach twist and turn upon itself. Yet she was trying to be better – trying to be braver, as she once remembered herself able to be. Before she had truly understood what fates were worse than death.
Her fingers twitched, reaching for the envelope and prying the red wax seal free. Her heart thudded in her chest, a steady, loud rhythm which echoed in her ears as she pried the first, and oldest letter free from its confines.
Dearest sister, the words read, penned in a cursive script which seemed to drip finery and grace in ever stroke of whatever brush or pen was used to write those words.
I hope this letter finds you well, it continued, and Sakura could only snort softly at that. She was anything but fine, and she was self-aware enough to know it. I have not heard from you in a while, and the reports your guards send back are beginning to concern me. She swallowed thickly at that, forcing herself to keep reading those smooth words before she could lose her nerve and run off to hide. Nevertheless, I am obliged to inform you that the order for your exile has yet to be rescinded, though it is early days yet, and I hope to have you home sooner rather than later. Lady Melliel’s wounds have yet to begin scarring over, and the memories of what you did to her are still yet fresh in everyone’s mind. Sakura blinked, reading frantically over that last sentence, a sinking feeling of dread building in her stomach as little pieces of the puzzle began to slowly fall in place.
The way her guards seemed to tread cautiously around her.
The absolutely terrible assumptions everyone seemed to have of her.
I hope to hear from you soon, the rest of the letter went, and she could only blink at the fact that it was signed by her eldest brother. She swallowed thickly then, wondering then just how many brothers she had there. Going from the number of properly furnished rooms, she was betting three or four. Her stomach twisted at the thought, and she could only glance at the small pile of unopened letters which had gathered for too long.
How long had it been since she had first woken up in that place and started ignoring those letters?
Sakura couldn’t quite remember, blurred as the days had become amidst her slivers of solace and the wariness which was ever present within her. Sometimes she still thought she was trapped within a dream, yet everything felt altogether far too real. Her shoulders sunk, fingers traitorously reaching for another letter with the thought that she might as well hurry up and get it all over and done with. Another wax seal was pried loose, her eyes almost greedily drinking in the words written there.
Dear sister, that letter began, the handwriting ever so slightly different to her discerning eyes. At least respond to brother so that we know you’re alive. He’s beginning to grow rather concerned, and I’m sure you’re quite aware of what he’s like when he grows worried enough. Unless you would rather be smothered by our overly watchful brother once our beloved high king rescinds the order for your exile, I highly suggest you send your reply to brother’s letter with utmost haste. Best wishes. Her brow furrowed at that, part of her wondering just what the creatures called brothers were right then and there.
That letter though was signed with a name; Díneloth. Silent Flower, part of her translated, and she pondered then on that particular facet of her abilities there – the ability to translate and understand a language she had no real memory of learning. She wondered what exactly it meant. Was she partly truly Aerloth in some way, shape, or form? She tilted her head, chewing on her lip even as she stared at the five other letters stacked up, waiting to be read.
She could probably put off opening them for a few more hours, if she really wanted to. Yet her curiosity was peaked ever so slightly when it came to the fact of her brothers. Part of her was ever so terrified that the feeling would be mutual when she inevitably did something odd and strange in their eyes. Her hands shook at the thought, even as she gritted her teeth and reached for the next letter.
Dearest sister, it began, and a quick glance at the end of the thick parchment told her it was from her eldest brother once again. She swallowed, noting that the overall length of the letter was that much longer than the first she had read. I hope you are faring well in Harlond. The seas tend to get rougher towards the beginning of Firith, so please refrain from going boating until the seas calm. The scholars like to say that Gaerys’ anger grows frosty and fierce when the colder seasons come a calling, so do be careful of the sea and its many moods. I find myself increasingly concerned as I haven’t heard from you just yet, though I do hope it is merely one of your passing moods. If I could visit, then I certainly would, but alas I find myself swamped with work, and I doubt our king will let me leave Lindon anytime soon. She swallowed thickly, reading those words, and feeling the growing sense of unease and worry radiating from the words written on the parchment. Our brothers are similarly busy, so you won’t need to worry about a surprise visit from them either. Please write back. I do so long to hear from you, sister.
Sakura closed her eyes, letting out a harsh breath as she tried to arrange the few pieces of the puzzle which was Aerloth that she had found out in the past several minutes of reading through her letters. The same letters which were a good few weeks old – or perhaps months by that point. It wasn’t like there had been a new letter every week – sometimes weeks elapsing between the envelopes with her name appearing.
Aerloth – she – had hurt someone, enough to leave scars, it seemed, and had then been exiled for that display of violence by what could only be the highest power in that land. A burst of laughter escaped her at that, something like hopelessness coming to settle in her chest as she wondered just what she had done to earn such a fate.
She should have died when she played about with nature chakra. She should have died when she had destroyed her chakra system – been able to move on to whatever was supposed to actually happen after one died.
Her shoulders sunk, even as she stared at the rest of the letters, wondering then about the contents of them all And what else she would come to learn of what the Aerloth of the past had been like… She swallowed thickly at that, almost dreading to learn more about what others would think to be her past, and perhaps, in some odd way, it was.
Fingers twitched, part of her longing to venture to the forge and spend hours working away those insidious feelings on swords which were still far too brittle and easily broken. That was her one solace there – well, that and perhaps the library. The only two places where she felt uncannily at ease; the way which had come so naturally to her before… everything…
“Finish the letters first,” she scolded herself, knowing that if she put off reading them, then who knew what might happen. Information was what she needed, so as not to alert anyone of her strangeness. She didn’t want anyone else to grow curious, didn’t want to be picked apart to see how she worked if she seemed far too out of place in that strange environment. Her heart beat frantically in her chest at the thought, and she swallowed thickly, tearing the wax seal loose to distract herself with the next letter from her elusive brothers.
Dearest sister, the letter began, proving it was from her eldest brother once more. He was seemingly the one who wrote to her the most. Díneloth had only sent one so far – yet there were still three more letters to go, she mused, chewing on her lip as she got back to her reading. How do you fare? I hope the cold seasons are treating you well. I do not wish to pressure you, yet I have not heard from you for far too long a period – though I suppose you have never been sent away for this long before. I am thinking of sending your childhood friend out, since none of our beloved brothers can be sent away from their duties here in Lindon just yet. If you do not wish for him to come, I would so love it if you could let me know. Awaiting your response.
Sakura closed her eyes, mentally trying to calculate the amount of time which had lapsed between that letter arriving and the present moment. “No. Nononono,” she mumbled, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tried to process the fact that she was supposed to have a childhood friend. Who undoubtedly knew her ever so well and thus would see her for the faker she was—She breathed in deeply, feeling the panic clawing at her lungs as she sucked in a couple of lungfuls of air in quick succession.
She stood up then, three letters left on the table unopened, her feet already treading the familiar path to the forge, hands ready to work away the bout of anxiety which had surfaced with relish thanks to the implications of that letter.
She stared at the silver of the blade, sighing softly as she held the blade aloft, that strange melody ringing in her ears, jarred and ever so slightly distorted. The balance felt off, a far cry away from the blades her once father had made, and Sakura only closed her eyes as she brought the blade down on the nearest surface, hearing the shatter of metal as her latest failure broke into innumerable pieces.
Far too alike to her life right then and there… She sighed, a familiar feeling nibbling at her gut as she looked in the direction of the front door to her home there, and wondered when, if ever, a supposed family friend would come around to call.
It was a waiting game, and she had played far too many of them before – so she was well accustomed to the sinking sense of dread and the nervousness of when everything would begin to unfold. She didn’t like not knowing things, she was coming to understand, and there in that place she barely understood a thing. Well, besides her growing knowledge of all things smithy. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft breath as she went and set about making her own midday meal. Keeping herself occupied with something or another was something of a habit by that point in time.
She just had to keep moving somehow, and everything would be fine.
Liar, something inside of her whispered, and she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, bottling that thought up and discarding it in the recesses of her mind as best she could.
Her mind chose to stray to the three unopened letters she had left, shaking her head then, even as she climbed to her feet once more and strode out of her forge. There was an aching weariness to her bones, a sleepiness starting to consume her from the inside out, something whispering at her to just give up. Part of her was unduly tempted to. Yet she was still, if nothing else, persistently stubborn. She was finding something of her feet there, and somehow she knew that to give into that tiredness would mean to lose that much.
Yet exhaustion still ate at her – quickly coming to a point where she couldn’t simply rest in that strange trance-like state she often seemed to enter. She had to lie down and close her eyes, and there was something which felt eerily wrong about needing to do that much. Yet that was something she was no closer to figuring out, and there was that terrible, sinking feeling that the lack of that knowledge would mark her for the strange being that she was.
“I need to go rest,” she murmured, trying to make herself more eager to go and hole herself up in that wardrobe she used in place of those soft beds in each room. The beds that normal people would probably use, and undoubtedly the kind of bed people would expect her also to sleep in. Her shoulders sunk at that thought, feet finding their way to the main entrance foyer where the main staircases were on either side of the room.
A soft tap at the door made her stop dead still.
Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, her head cranking around ever so slowly to stare at the glass panel where she could see a faint shadow cast by the moonlight outside. It was late – dark – far past the reasonable hour for a guest to call. Part of her prayed then that she was simply hallucinating and hearing strange things. Her guards – as she had come to learn who they were to her – didn’t bother to knock when bringing her the supplies which weren’t due for six more days, a whole week there. Her hand went to her chest, the loud thud-thud of her heart ever so distinct. She almost felt as though it would burst out of her chest, her vision tunnelling as she stared at the shadow.
The knock came again.
Her legs shook, mind whispering to her of undoubtedly who her guest was. Hands moved on autopilot, grabbing a hold of the nearest cloak and throwing it over herself, as if it could hide her within its voluminous depths. “Go away,” she mouthed, praying frantically then that the stranger who probably wasn’t supposed to be a stranger would leave.
Yet there came the distinct sound of a latch turning, and Sakura could only watch as the door creaked open, revealing an ellon with long silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Those same blue eyes locked on her form, her hands digging into the banister as if that could save her from the scrutiny of that gaze.
“Aerloth,” the ellon greeted, and Sakura felt her heart sink as she realised that the one before her was undoubtedly the ellon who her eldest brother’s letter had mentioned. A childhood friend. Those blue eyes narrowed, fingers curling around the key he had undoubtedly used to gain access to her home there, even as the door shut behind him with an eerily final click. “What exactly are you wearing?”
Sakura relinquished her death grip on the stair railing, biting her lip to supress the soft whimper she wanted to let out. “Clothes,” she said flatly, folding her arms against her chest, hiding them under that cloak as if that would conceal everything she wanted to hide.
A snort escaped him. “Obviously, Aerloth dearest,” he said, the endearment making her shudder at how cold it seemed. Yet the one before her had been undoubtedly violent – enough to physically maim someone for reasons she had yet to figure out. “What happened to those pretty dresses you loved to flaunt? If you’ve ruined them all, then there is a local tailor here, but remember all your expenses here—”
“Are being monitored by brother dearest,” she said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She had been told that much already – that very fact had been all but drilled into her skull by that point. Every time she had dared to ask for the forge to be restocked, it had been told to her over and over again. “I know.”
“And that’s why you’ve ruined the forge twice already?” he asked, one silvery brow rising in question.
“I wasn’t aware that you were involved with my expenses,” she remarked, internally wondering exactly who the person in front of her was and how close they were to both her and the rest of her family.
“I have to be,” he said flatly. “Or have you conveniently forgotten about that precious little Oath I swore when we were children?” he demanded, and Sakura mentally denoted that as something of a sore topic for the ellon in front of her. “No matter, I am still your friend at the very least… so are you going to stop wearing that ridiculous cloak indoors and greet me properly?”
How was one supposed to greet someone properly there? Sakura didn’t have the faintest clue. “Well,” she said, trying to act out her part as best she could when she didn’t have the foggiest clue as to what her part was supposed to be. “Welcome to my humble abode, friend,” she continued, praying she didn’t seem as plastic and fake as she felt. “I take it you’re familiar with the house, so you can use your usual room… if you’re staying for longer.”
“Aerloth,” the ellon said frankly. “It was a three-day trip to come out here, thanks to the worsening weather. I will likely stay until spring comes and the waters become safer to traverse – unless I fancy an even longer trip by horseback to Lindon.”
Sakura felt the smile on her face freeze, a choked bit of laughter escaping her. “That’s… great…” she mumbled, wincing then at the narrowed blue-eyed gaze sent her way right then and there.
“I can keep you company for a short while this time,” he said matter-of-factly. “However I doubt I will be able to come out here too often for however much longer your exile lasts for.” He chewed on his lip. “You were only sent away for fifteen coranari last time.”
She blinked at that, the knowledge that she – Aerloth – had been exiled once before somehow not surprising her all that much. For fifteen years. A frown curled at her lips then as she wondered just how old she was right then and there. Not that it was a pressing concern right then and there. The friendly-foe in front of her was greater than that.
“Given how you actually physically injured someone this time, it might even be a whole yén this time,” he said, and something in the back of her head equated that to one-hundred and forty-four normal years. She shoved that morsal of knowledge into a little box in the back of her head to be dealt with later. “Though it would be cruel to make you endure that much in constant solitude, hence why Faelion sent me out here.” He stepped towards her then, and it took everything in her power not to try and back away.
Never mind the fact that she wanted to run away screaming – yet she didn’t think that was what the Aerloth the ellon in front of her knew would do. Thus staying there and interacting with a real live person it was.
“Now,” he said, and Sakura realised what he was about to do moments before his fingers curled in the fabric of her cloak. “I think it time you took off that cloak which is meant to be worn outside and showed me where the kitchen and our supplies might be.” Mentally, she cursed her earlier self for not running away, even as those hands pried her protection away from her.
“Um,” she mumbled, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her. “Well, let’s go to the kitchen, then,” she said, feeling eerily like a wooden puppet as she tried to take a step towards the aforementioned kitchen.
A hand closed around her arm, and there was a war within her to get rid of that unfamiliar sensation of someone grabbing her. “Aerloth,” he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to explain to me exactly what’s going on? Or should I go and find the nearest healer?”
The mention of a healer brought her up short. She smiled blandly, feeling as though she were pulling her own teeth out as her lips curled up. “I’m not injured?” she offered, tugging on her arm then, a familiar anxiety building in the pit of her stomach the longer she was held there.
Silvery brows knotted together, blue eyes staring at her in abject confusion. “If you’re fading out of sheer spite – then that would be an incredibly apt Aerloth thing of you to do, yet I know for a fact that is not quite possible. Are your brothers aware of this?” He tilted his head, and fear gripped her heart and squeezed.
Her free arm whirled around, fingers sinking into the collar of his shirt with a greater strength than she thought she currently possessed. “No one can know,” she hissed, heart beating frantically in her chest. She had no clue what this fading was, even though it was likely treatable, but if it were strange or odd, or would otherwise draw unwanted attention to her, then no one could know. “No one.”
“You know I’m compelled to keep your secrets,” he muttered, sounding almost bitter about that very fact. “No matter how foolish it is to keep them that way…” Those blue eyes gazed into her green ones almost pleadingly before bitterness came to their forefront, and part of her almost felt guilty. Almost. “On your head be it.”
Her fingers unclenched, her grip on him slackening. “So be it,” she mumbled, stepping back from him then. Her hands fell back to her sides, a soft sigh escaping her as she turned on her heel and made her way towards the kitchen – her childhood friend, whose name she still hadn’t figured out, following behind her like a silent shadow.