the prodigal daughter

“I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once.” ― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

AMITY ALDER is a clever, but a quiet girl. While she is inclined to simply observe her surroundings, one would be foolish indeed to mistake her silence for disinterest. She is ever watchful, even though she keeps her observations to herself... Her enhanced magic abilities come naturally to her. Strengthening her magic is no easy task, but it does not cause Amity any distress- except for when she is asked to use her magic to undermine others. She doesn’t enjoy causing pain, not even to those who would gladly cause her harm given the chance. She remains a firm believer in every individual’s inherent goodness, no matter how fiercely the war or the fairies around her may try to convince her otherwise. However, the more time Amity spends at court, the harder she must fight to keep her faith.

BIO ∙ CONNECTIONS ∙ THREADS ∙  INSPIRATION ∙  RPG

location: the camp time: early evening  closed with @amongthebriars

Amity took care to avoid most of the Seelie fae these days. It was too painful a reminder of the life she had lost, the life she had lived in ignorance. She had been a child, leaping from one boiling pot into the other without ever knowing the difference. But she was still very much aware of them, especially Harland.

Alekto had never spoken openly of Harland, but Amity could discern enough. Moreover, she knew how safe she used to feel in the fae's presence. He had always been a kind face at court, even when she was nothing but a scrap of a girl with the promise of power. And even when she had delivered on the promise, he had never looked at her with hungry eyes. He had always been kind.

So her first reaction was shame when their eyes briefly met across the flood of people picking up leaflets dropped by the swarm of bluebirds. Everyone was absorbed in the copies of the Magpie's Nest, but Amity barely glanced at the words.

There was a part of her that wanted to run. It was strong and persuasive. But there was a smaller, more insistent part, that demanded to be known. That someone other than Alekto should bear witness, to know, that Amity Alder had emerged from the ashes, broken and battered, but alive.

location: the camp time: past midnight  closed with @alektobone

Amity felt like she had been put back together, but crudely. As if her bones were jagged pieces forced into place, with irregularities aplenty. Even her magick had a sharper edge, a bite, where it had once felt like the warmth of a candlelight. Her eyes were constantly scanning the horizon never once resting, not even in sleep.

Alekto had offered Ravenwood to her, ensured her of her safety there, warned her that Naveen would be present at the camp, but Amity had made up her mind as soon as she heard the news. She would not be some useless, broken thing to be protected. She could still serve. Even if her hands shook and her palms sweated. So she had donned a glamoured appearance and altered her voice.

She rarely left the tent during the busy hours when people were aplenty and almost never ventured into the social aspects of camp. She preferred to work at night, in the darkness, quietly mending the veil alone or with Alekto or Keir at her side.

It had been a quiet night, the perimeter of camp sparsely populated due to the entertainment offered at the Golden Lute. Amity preferred it this way. Ever since she had escaped Naveen, she had realized she had a low tolerance for others. She was short tempered and easily provoked. There was a near constant hum of anger that seemed to morph into a roar at the slightest invocation and this unnerved her.

She wondered Naveen had succeeded in killing some part of her, if she was to be forever altered now. Her thoughts were prevented from taking a more maudlin turn by the approach of footsteps. Her hand went to her dagger, but she felt Alekto’s presence before she came into view. It was a courtesy on Alekto’s part, she knew, that she had even heard the Archmage approach. Just another concession Alekto had made towards Amity’s frayed nerves.

location: the border of wisteria and belladonna  time: past midnight  closed with @magicksilk-andsnakeskin

As Helios thundered through the woods, Amity could not help but reflect on all she had left behind. Those soft grey sheets and feathered pillow she had rested her head for the past three hundred years would now remain untouched. Her guest room at Hema’s would gradually turn into something else, maybe a study or just an unclaimed chamber. The cottage in Milkweed Meadows would be overgrown with ivy eventually and perhaps the children would tell ghost stories about the abandoned residence. 

She wondered what Sybil would think when she realized Amity had gone. If she would have understood why she had to leave so suddenly and so completely. What would Naveen tell them all? That she was captured and if so, by whom? Would they believe his lies? How long would it last? 

Would she ever return to Wisteria again? 

No, Amity thought, she could not return. Not as long as Naveen drew breath. He would never let her go willingly. It was why she was running like a thief in the night, riding Helios hard and clutching Beowolf’s wooden cage tightly to her chest despite his near constant protests. She could not bear to part with either of them, not after they had been her constant companions. 

Naveen blinked as Amity’s father suddenly blasted away from him and into a nearby pond. Amity’s fear suddenly spiking deliciously. He really had found such a treat this time. Though, unfortunately, still a disobedient one. But they still had time and Naveen was a patient man. There would be plenty of time for molding yet. 

“Shhhhh,” he turned back to Amity, not at all concerned about the sputtering and roaring fae that soon resurfaced. “Accidents happen, it’s alright deerheart, I would never fault you for that.” he murmured, gently squeezing her hand. “But this is not a situation for seedlings to handle. Look at me now, deerheart, hear and understand.” he turned to face her fully, still not concerned about the idiot storming towards them. “Someone like him cannot hurt me. And he will never harm you again. It is time for you be strong, deerheart. It is a scary thing indeed, but I do believe you have the strength of will to accomplish it.” Naveen turned back around to face in the impending annoyance, hiding a vicious smirk behind a slightly flustered and benign smile. 

Naveen didn’t bother to apologize or listen to the screaming of the idiotic fae before them. The courtiers were all fluttering around in horror at the things streaming out of his mouth, that he was saying to The Archmage. What a scandal indeed. 

Amity’s father was prone to fighting with his fists, that had been gleaned the moment they met. It was not so surprising to see him do the same now. Though Naveen couldn’t resist sending a wink at Amity over his shoulder as the fist aimed towards his face. 

“How uncouth.”

Naveen wasted no more time and snapped his fingers, the fist that had been barreling towards him was rebounded with suck force it sent the fae on his back. He once again had to hide a vicious smirk at the sound of bones breaking and the roar of agony from the other fae. The courtiers surrounding them broke into mocking laughter and giggles. What had the other fae been thinking to try that with the Archmage? How stupid. What did he expect to happen?

Yes, what indeed.. Naveen mused. 

“I think it’s time you returned… Alder.” he really didn’t want to grace the idiot with a name, let alone letting it flow off his tongue. “You’ve made enough of a fool of yourself and ruined the evening for my apprentice. I daresay you will hopefully learn from his experience and never approach her again. I’m rather protective of my apprentices and seeing the abuse she suffered under your hands makes me want to break more than just yours.” Horrified gasps erupted around them as the courtiers realized what other misdemeanors this fae had been up to. A realm of praise for Naveen’s person also erupted as people began to finally piece the puzzle together. 

Tears began to stream down Amity’s face, even as Archmage Bryd took her hand spoke soothingly to her. She wanted Pa to leave and she didn’t want all these people to see him. It was beyond embarrassing, it was a shame that turned her mouth to ash and her stomach to ice. 

She didn’t feel like she had the strength of will. In fact, it took all of her effort just to stay still and keep her magick subdued. She knew if she lost focus for even a second, she would send Pa flying again and conjure up a shield for the Archmage and herself. Young Amity was not used to being protected. All her life, she had to be her own protection even from those who were meant to cherish and love her. 

She squeezed her eyes shut as the Archmage broke Pa’s hand and all the courtiers began to laugh and mock her Pa. Would they mock her too if they knew she was his daughter? That she had grown up in a merchant’s stall, barefoot and starving, while the other courtiers had grown up with balls and banquets. Surely the Archmage would send her away, realize she was more trouble than she was worth. But where could she go back to? Pa wasn’t an option, especially after he lost his fight with the Archmage. He was likely to kill her if he ever saw her again. Ma was long gone. If the Archmage sent her back, she would surely not be allowed to stay with Hema. 

Alekto scoffed. “Is that not what I have Keir for? At times he’s worse than you and my mother ever were when it comes to fretting over me.” Her voice was low and her face was neutral, a subtle shift of her hand casting a partial silencing spell around them. Not enough to fully block out the conversation, but enough to offer protection from anyone paying too much attention. Fortunately, the distant position Amity had chosen from the rest of the crowd did enough of the work on its own, but it never hurt to be cautious.

Though Alekto was good at containing her emotions and controlling their expression, she couldn’t entirely hide the relief in her eyes from seeing that Amity was well. “Missing me already, love? Or is the company tonight truly so dreadful that you’d take the Storm Weaver over any of them?” It was….difficult to break out of the automatic habit of responding in such a way. But that didn’t mean she held the same vitriol as before. In fact, the corners of her lips tugged back into a slight smile, and a teasing tone slipped its way into her voice as she spoke.

But Alekto was the Archmage. That meant she was used to eyes watching her constantly. And it was hardly difficult to miss her, between the hair and the garments. So she shifted her body away from the other woman, regarding her without emotion, as if speaking to a stranger.

Still, when she spoke again, she was quiet and her voice softened. “I am glad to see that you are alright. My spies have kept as watchful an eye as possible on you, but their reports are not the same as witnessing it myself.”

“Perhaps that is why I am so fond of Keir, knowing his goals are similarly aligned with my own.” Amity smiled. “It’s nice to know that even when we’re apart, there’s someone there that won’t let you spend all of your time foul tempered and overworked.” 

Amity wanted to reach for Alekto’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly. To remind Alekto that not only was she cared for, but she was still loved too. Even if she was the feared Storm Weaver. Amity was coming to realize that she had spent years frightened of the Storm Weaver, instead of embracing all that her dear friend had become. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She wouldn’t shy away from the darker sides of Alekto Bone. 

Soon, they wouldn’t need to play these games of pretending not to care in public or keeping up appearances as enemy magi. Soon, they might be considered on the same team, even if Amity could not imagine a world in which she served Oberon or Titania Aven. 

Attachment is a weakness. Caring will get you killed. Or worse.

Part of Alekto’s heart clung to such sentiments with a newfound ferocity every time she thought back to her last conversation with Amity. That night at Ravenwood had replayed itself in her mind constantly ever since, and Alekto couldn’t help but feel as if she had made a mistake being so vulnerable before the other woman. Some dark, injured part of her which was akin to a predator that had been wounded by such proximity before and did not wish to undergo such pain again. She’ll betray you, you foolish girl. Have you not learned your lesson by now? 

It was the voice of the side of her that donned the Archmage robes and wielded wanton cruelty as a shield. That wore an outfit armored with fae bones to a wedding and had multiple protective talismans and hidden vials of blood on her person at any given time. Why the fuck would you risk allowing Byrd the ability to hurt you? You made yourself a promise. Never again. And yet here you are, searching for a woman who still lacks the backbone to commit to leaving the wretch once and for all.

But not all of the sorceress was hardened. Part of her was still Alekto Bone. And to that part of her being, Amity would always be her sister. And the knowledge that, for the first time in years, Alekto had her back was enough to awaken long-dead hope within her. Enough to ignore the caution and paranoia welling up within her. Enough to forgive and forget over a century of bitterness and disdain.

Alekto wrestled with both sides of herself as she rounded the corner, nearly colliding with the very woman she sought out in the process. Instinct moved her back at once, one hand saving the glass in her hand and the other bracing herself against collision. The second she recognized Amity, the darkened part of her heart lost. There was her sister. Another survivor of Byrd’s horrors, albeit in a different way. And Alekto was happy to see her again, even if under the horrid conditions of a court wedding.

“It takes more than that to startle me, deirfiúr bheag,” she hummed as she leaned against the wall, moving Amity’s hand away with somewhat more gentleness than she would have used before. “And far more to hurt me. The concern is unnecessary.” 

Relief flooded her body as she realized it was Alekto. Her bones felt lighter, momentarily free of the weariness of grief, and she almost moved to embrace the other faerie. The bones and talismans might intimidate other faeries, and rightfully so, but Amity had always known her sister to find her refuge in ferocity. She had spent too long afraid of Alekto, when she should have been running towards her with open arms. 

Just add it to the list of things Naveen has taken from you. 

But they were far too public, too exposed, to risk such a gesture. Even if the surrounding courtiers seemed to be drowning in their cups.  She would content herself with a brush of hands and the sudden nearness. It wouldn’t be too much longer until she would be free. 

With Alekto near, she could almost imagine herself leaving it all behind. She would be pursued of course, but hadn’t Alekto already promised to shield her from the worst of it? She could simply take Beowulf and Helios to Ravenwood. All else could be replaced.

But then doubt crept in, reminding her of all Hema had done for her over the years. Could she truly leave like a thief in the night when she had been fed, clothed, and raised on the elder faerie’s kindness?

Once, Amity might have found any excuse to accompany Naveen to a celebration like the Silverstone and Hemlock’s nuptials. Ever the romantic, Amity had adored attending the all too rare faerie wedding. Those celebrations brought out the best in Amity. She was all too prepared to abandon her shyness in favor of merriment. But ever since she found out the truth about Sabina, she could not bring herself to muster that same enthusiasm. The idea of a wedding left a bitter taste in her mouth, some ugly cross between the metallic taste of rage and the ashen taste of grief. But as the Archmage’s favorite student, she could not afford to skip the Silverstone and Hemlock wedding without causing a stir. 

Besides, as she made her preparations to run she could not afford to be seen pulling away from the Archmage and rouse his suspicion. So she donned her best navy gown with its embroidered ivory colored moon and stars, arranged her mess of curls into a respectable updo, and clasped a necklace of Hemma’s around her neck. 

The ceremony seemed to take ages and it was all Amity could do to feign interest throughout. When the guests were shepherded into a large ballroom, Amity was quick to grab a class from one of the servants and down it. A flush spread across her cheeks and chest, but she paid it no mind and reached for another before retreating to the sidelines. 

She was just getting comfortable leaning against the wall when another faerie rounded the corner, nearly colliding with Amity. Amity reached out a steadying hand automatically, the other preoccupied with protecting her drink.