An Assassins Daughter

“Merlin?” I call out. I ignore the body rapped in roots, and vines to the best of my ability. The bird quickly flys down to my shoulder. “Oh Merlin are you ok? Where’s the dragon?” The bird nuzzles my cheek. Tears are already starting to fall. The dragon leaps down. There’s a small cut on its tail now, but it’s not deep. I fall to my knees it front of it. “I’m glad you’re ok.” I cry. I cry from sadness, relief, guilt, and anger. And frustration towards myself. I knew of Lumine’s weakness very early on. Being good with reading people. I knew of Kore’s ease of taking a life. But that same ease was in my mother. Years of dissociation. My mother was a murderer and the thief. She was killer, and sometimes even a monster to some. She too could be cold, and greedy. So it was not as if I was naïve to what people were capable of, but I suppose I had gotten far too used to it. My mother had a line she didn’t betray her friends. And she would never betray me. It wasn’t that I had forgotten that people could be horrible, but that perhaps I still expected too much good from them. I was an optimist. The dragon lays its head in my lap. I stroke its head. When all my tears are spent I stand. Because I hear whispers of the trees of a mountain, and cave. It takes a while for me to build the dragon a sling. Much like the ones I used to make for birds. The building of it isn’t that difficult I simply use magic to grow with the branches the way I need them to. Putting on the dragon… well I imagine it’s much like trying to put one onto a child. Despite my core saying he doesn’t wanna stand still. But I get there eventually. Then I get to the mountain. Dragon like wings spread from my back. Merlin looks unfazed. The dragon looks excited. I scoop the dragon up into my arms. (He’s very heavy.) And barely manage, but manage, to get the dragon off the ground. After a few minutes of flapping, I get to the cave entrance. Luckily it’s not very high up but rather secluded surrounded by nothing but a small patch of woods and valleys. I’m panting by the end. Merlin gives me a disapproving shriek. “Hey I did it. Didn’t I?” Then I feel a hot gust of smoke on my face. I take a step back. The baby dragon rushes forward. “You might want to invest in some stairs.” I say. 

“I owe you a favor.” 

“Huh. Wow.” Almost a year of adventuring near my local village, and I already have a dragon owing me a favor. “Thank you.” I say. 

“No.” She says. “Thank you.” And that’s the end of that. I head home. My legs numb. Snow fakes dance around my head. My hair is pale blond. My skin is as white as paper. My eyes as grey as stone. My ears stay pointed. My nails and teeth sharpen. I look at myself in a puddle. I used to stare at myself for hours trying to figure out what I was. What I got from my father’s side, but I look much like my mother. She’s light grey, while I’m pale white. Her hair is sliver while mines platinum blonde. Both our eyes are grey, but mine have green around the pupil, and a few flecks of ocean blue. Still I have her elven or Fae build. Long, and thin limbs. And a boring indescribable face. The kind of face that blends in that you don’t remember. The sort of face that fades into the background. This sort of face that changes. The face of a half-changeling. I can hear with changeling ears the sound of an arrow hitting a target. Merlin flys ahead. He’s my mom’s oldest friend. Her first traveling companion. Before meeting her own group of adventures. An elven man Beckett, and a man named Quill. When I round the corner mom’s already put down the bow. An arrow can be seen straight through her last arrow. Merlin it’s already perched on her arm. She talks to him quickly. Then she sees my face. 

“My poor girl.” She doesn’t need to ask me what I’ve done. She sees it in my eyes. On my face. A mirror of herself now in a way I wasn’t before. She holds me for a long moment. The thing is is I’m good at reading people too. And all though there was pity, empathy, and sadness. There was also relief. And I’m suddenly struck with the thought that although she would’ve let me go when I felt ready, she never would’ve truly felt. I was ready until I was prepared to kill not as she had as an assassin, but as an adventurer, a hero. It’s later, sunset, when I take off my boots. I feet the earth beneath my feet. I sit cross legged in the ground. Merlin a cat fallowing behind. The stone cabin to my back, and village a safe ways beyond. And the forest that will lead to the Fae Realm. My ancestral home. I’ll never know what my father was. I don’t even think Mom knew what he was. Not for sure. He was most likely magic. Given my gift for it. I’ve guessed he was Fae, or Tiefling, elf, or even celestial. Or even a mix of different things. At the end of the day, I don’t know. I could meet him of course. Mom kept tabs on him for me. But he doesn’t particularly want to be my father. So I don’t particularly want to meet him. I have my mother and I only need my mother. We’ve only ever needed each other. We’re the only true family each other has. (Besides Merlin of course, and ‘Uncle’ Beckett and ‘Uncle’ Quill.) We mad our own family. Still my father insisted on paying child support. Which my mother saved up abortion for after I turned eighteen. I’m almost nineteen now. I could leave. But I waited. I was waiting for something. To finally feel I was ready. Or maybe I was waiting until my mom felt I was ready. I have always been a bit of a people pleaser. I look towards the forest filled with Fae, animals, and creatures most won’t even live near it. A place my moms barley explored. And I feel that call again. A tug in chest. I close my eyes and meditate. 

“Child.” I back away. “Do not be frightened. I am Sariel.” Sariel. Lady Sariel the Goddes of nature. The Goddess of Fae. Creator of Fae. Of Changelings. Here now before me. Like my mother, I have never given my loyalty to one specific God, but I have always respected her the most. “I know of you and your mother. I know your connection to nature is strong. I need you help to protect the Fae Realm. To protect nature itself.” 

“How?” I ask but the images already fading. I jolt awake. Merlin’s fur rises at my sudden movements. I rush inside. I watch as my mother lays her book down next to a packed satchel and a lantern. 

“Your leaving aren’t you? Writing you own story. Traveling further into the Fae Realm than I ever did.” I hug her. She hugs me back. I remember when I was younger her hugs, although always returned to me would always be a bit stiff as if she hadn’t hugged anyone in a long time. “Sit. I’ve told you my story before but never in great detail. I think it time you know. When I was about five my village here near the Fae Forest was attacked. Your grandparents along with every villager killed except for me. I was there ‘prize’. No, there are a few changeling spies and agents of stealth. I don’t think there has been a changeling assassin for me. It is our very nature to hide to blend in. Well, you less so.” I am only half-changeling. (I think.) my mother has always been surprised by my lack of desire to not garner attention to myself. Doing small, magical tricks, even as a child. “I could read people’s demeanor, and even to an extent their minds. I could take the form of anyone I needed to. And I had my Fae familiar, Merlin of course. I spent my childhood alone. I learned a great many things from different languages, to combat and strategy. How to kill someone from everything from a blade to poison. I learned to be efficient at it. To be good at it. And to do it without regret or question. One day I escaped. I ran and joined a group of adventures. Hoping to find allies. Hoping my skilled could perhaps be used in a different way. That’s when I met Quill and Beckett. Mine you, you took a long time for me to trust them.” I knew my mother both due to her nature, or the trauma was a naturally un-trusting person. “And well you know the story from here. I defeated the League of Assassins. Returned a lost elven Prince home. And reunited Quill with his long lost sister. Along with a few other heroic adventures here and there. Still you will have to make hard decisions in your travels. Decisions you were going to have to live with for the rest of your life. Are you ready to make them.” She places her hands on my shoulders. 

“Yes.” 

“A Goddess told me something once.” 

“Sariel?” I ask. My mother isn’t surprised by the question. She thinks it might’ve been the goddess that her parents used to worship. She doesn’t remember anymore though. 

“No. The Night Queen.” The Death Goddess. I shiver. “She said she had a prophecy. Not of your death but of your life. ‘Only when the girl comes on wings, will death truly know life.”