Keaton

Arenna knew that her lover was right. Where Keaton accepted her gentle advice, she knew it was her responsibility to also hear her partner’s. That they couldn’t fix their problems with anger and revenge. Patience would be a virtue Arenna would have to find for herself where their Reissauian traitor was concerned. But every bit of it flew from the proverbial window with Keaton’s next words. A whispered invitation, breathed into the space between their lips when their foreheads fell to rest against one another. Brown eyes widened – maybe Arenna shouldn’t have been so taken aback, considering that was the known end to their current journey together. Once the war was won, they would be wed. They would be wives and eternal partners in the eyes of anyone who would bear witness to them. But now? In such tumultuous times? “Keaton,” she whispered, fingers tightening into the front of her lover’s tunic. She wanted to say yes. Hell, she wanted to scream it. But where the teenager inside had run rampant with her emotions all day, the Jarlfru came out now, a little unsure of the idea. “There is nothing I want more than to be your wife,” she assured her lover softly, first and foremost. “But is it wise? You’ve already a target on your back simply by being my hand, and the dragonrider,” Arenna explained carefully, praying that her questioning of the idea would not be misconstrued. “If news spread to the South that you were also my wife, you would become my mother’s highest priority. Such haste would be you in more danger than you’re already in, my love…”

Arenna listened with a much calmer demeanor than she’d demonstrated since first arriving at the dragons’ paddock, dark eyes softening with sympathy for her lover’s quandaries. It wasn’t an easy position to be in – not only did Keaton have a life that she’d been torn from, couldn’t remember, but it was the life of a royal. A life that would have come with so many expectations and a grand array of possibilities. Arenna frowned softly, gently brushing her fingers up the sharp line of her lover’s jaw. “You don’t have to claim anything, Keaton,” she murmured at last, eyes understanding but sure. “You don’t have to feel any one way about this. For all intents and purposes, Aurelie Renaud did die in that river. And born from those same waters was Keaton Ó Deoradháin.” Her thumb smoothed over the high plane of Keaton’s cheekbone, eyes flicking back and forth between brilliant emeralds. King Petyr’s eyes, she’d noticed upon first meeting him. All of Shae’s lovely features, but Petyr’s wondrous eyes. “We cannot reverse time, my love. We can only move forward through it.”

Many would fault a queen for acting on the whims of her heart instead of her head, but she was grateful for Keaton’s forgiveness of said whims now. “I believe when all is said and done, he will be sentenced,” Arenna said softly, eyes drifting shut as Keaton bestowed upon her the quiet affection she needed now. It soothed her irritation, doused the flames of her fury with cool sand and helped her to breathe a little easier. “His crimes are too great to go unpunished… but strategically speaking, he doesn’t need to know that. For now.” Her hands moved to frame either side of Keaton’s jaw, and she gently urged the girl to lift her head. Their eyes met, two souls colliding in space and such deep understanding of one another. “Thank you for helping me to see reason, Keaton.” Her chin tipped up, lips brushing once over Keaton’s. “And for helping to calm the storms inside me.”

Every point that Keaton made was perfectly valid, and Arenna could feel the defeat coming. Truthfully, she knew the wish of her baser instincts to see the man executed promptly would not come to fruition. Even if the decision was ultimately up to her, the Jarlfru had plenty of counsel that would advise her to wait. To play it strategically, instead of instinctively. Keaton’s counsel, of course, was of the utmost value to her, and she wouldn’t ignore it now. Acknowledged, in fact, that she was right. “I’m not a queen yet,” she whispered after a moment’s silence, head dipping slightly into the hand at her jaw. But she sighed there, catching Keaton’s palm with her lips before finally meeting her eyes again. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to be childish. I know it is my responsibility not to be, I just…” She stepped closer, leaned in, rest her forehead lightly against her lover’s and breathed in Keaton’s demeanor. Calm and sensible, as Arenna needed to be now. “It’s you. And he’s the reason you nearly died in that river. My heart screams for his atonement.” Again, Arenna sighed, slowly winding her arms around Keaton’s strong shoulders. “But I know you’re right.”

Keaton spoke of sending the royal family home and Arenna knew it to be the best course of action. They only came to meet Arenna, to meet the dragonrider – and to be reunited with their lost daughter. These introductions had all been made, and while the Jarlfru hated to part ways with their kind eyes so soon, it was in everyone’s best interest. They needn’t be here any longer, and they would be safest back home in the castle, tucked behind fortified walls and hundred of miles. She simply nodded her agreement, before watching Keaton stroke tenderly beneath Taivra’s wide chin. For once in her life, Arenna didn’t want to think clearly. She didn’t want to be the prim and proper princess of Agaria. She didn’t want to be the fair and regal Jarlfru of the Ranaks. She just wanted to be Arenna. Eighteen year-old Arenna with anger on her mind and justice in her heart. “Do you truly believe he’ll value his own life so strongly,” Arenna questioned, finally stepping closer to her lover beneath Taivra’s relaxed stance. “That he’ll readily betray my mother, after decades of paying her loyalty?”

Well, an ambush would be for a lot more reasons than just Keaton’s identity. The scariest of it all was that the formerly-deceased Princess Aurelie Renaud, both King Petyr and Queen Shae, and the Jarlfru of the East were all currently situated in a single base camp. If she heard of such conditions in regards to her enemies, Arenna wouldn’t hesitate to gather every soldier she could and catch that camp off guard. It wasn’t until today that she’d realized the vulnerability of their position, and it would urge her to send Petyr and Shae home sooner than she would have liked. “There is no explanation he could give that would ever win him my pardon,” Arenna spoke bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest now as she idly watched Keaton with Taivra. “Speaking for myself, anyway.” Ironic that the man in question wasn’t just responsible for Aurelie Renaud’s death – but also for the reason she’d been reborn as Keaton of the Great River, who came to stand at Arenna Maeson’s side. That fact, however, would also fail to earn him Arenna’s forgiveness.

“My mother is capable of terrible things,” Arenna spoke quietly, tone dripping in disdain. There were many things she’d come to learn since leaving Agaria pressed against Kaeggo’s back, and that was certainly one of them. She wouldn’t have doubted if her mother had seduced numerous Reissauians to do her bidding, to be her eyes in the North – likely in exchange for money that they wouldn’t otherwise see in their lifetime. Despicable, and a truly harrowing thought. Were there others…? “A guard currently stationed in our war camp, Keaton,” Arenna corrected her bitterly, hands curling slowly against Thaven’s thick scales. She turned her head to look at her lover, still stood between both dragons where the Jarlfru had left. “There is every chance he’s discovered the truth behind my dragonrider’s identity, her lost heritage. What if that news flies south to Andaren?” Arenna sucked in a sharp breath, curled her tongue over her teeth and finally stepped back out from beneath Thaven’s neck. She didn’t wish for him to sense too keenly her unrest and become anxious himself. “His treason could see our armies ambushed within a fortnight.“ And she could hardly bear the thought of him drawing another breath for that treason.

She wasn’t entirely sure why, but Keaton’s reaction – or lack thereof – took Arenna by surprise. The girl seemed hardly affected by the discovery, physically responding with little more than an idly passing of hand over hair. Dark brows furrowed just slightly, her own hands falling away from Keaton’s elbows. They instead came together in front of her, fingers picking anxiously at her nails. “Well, they’ve not yet decided. It’s only just come to light,” Arenna answered. “This man has been under Petyr’s employ for decades. Spying on him, reporting back to my mother in Agaria.” Arenna almost laughed, shook her head and lifted a hand to press her fingers to her forehead. They trembled there with her building rage. “Carrying out the ill will of your father’s enemies in the South.” Responsible for your near death, she tacked on in her head. “If it were up to me he’d be at the end of a noose already.” Arenna sucked in a sharp breath, perhaps taken aback by the aggression of her own words. Turned slightly away from Keaton and instead stepped closer to Thaven, who lightly shook out his scales as she moved beneath his neck and gently pressed her hands to his wide chest. 

Once upon a much more innocent time, the only thing that could get a young Princess Arenna agitated was her brother’s bullying. And back then, the only one who could ease her irritation with a single look was her father. Keaton’s gaze had much the same effect now, and despite all she’d learned this day, Arenna couldn’t help but feel her lungs loosen. Breathing was a little easier just by being here, just with the sound of her lover’s voice and the gentle touch to her creased forehead. “Sorry,” she apologized softly, though she knew she didn’t necessarily need to. Her hands lifted, cupped the bottom of Keaton’s elbows as she leaned forward and rest her forehead lightly against her lover’s. “Hello, my love. I apologize for interrupting your time with them.” She tipped her chin up just slightly, enough to brush her lips deftly over Keaton’s. “I’ve just received some rather disturbing news from the King and Queen’s page.” Arenna’s fingers tightened just slightly where they held her lover’s arms. She’d not yet seen his face, the man who’d betrayed his leaders, his kingdom, and the innocent trust of a young princess. But Arenna couldn’t imagine even the kindest of old faces swaying her fury. “Joorah and Arman discovered a Reissauian guard snooping through confidential documents and war plans in the central pitch,” Arenna finally explained, drawing in a deep breath and feeling her feel settle a little deeper into the earth beneath them. “The same Reissauian guard who urged Aurelie Renaud to sneak into the gardens to watch a star shower thirteen years ago…”

Oh, but war truly wasn’t a pleasant thing, least of all for a fresh eighteen year-old girl who was quite happily in love and didn’t revel in the death of fellow human beings. The battle had only barely begun and already, Arenna felt weighted with the responsibility she held. A fortnight prior, she’d sent a faction of their combined armies to investigate word of movement several miles south of camp. Enemy forces encroaching upon Reissau’s borders that needed squashing, if true. Though the skirmish itself was won, many had been injured – including General Dupont – and many had fallen. It was her first honest taste of the war to come. Not satisfying, like snuffing out Kaeggo had been. The Agarian soldiers they defeated on the battlefield were, for the most part, innocents. Men that followed their king blindly because it was their duty, and an honor to serve their home. They were not her brother, and it was his sins alone they paid the ultimate price for.

It all made Arenna a little more agitated than usual, especially considering the girl was steadfast in her fair and regal demeanor. This particular afternoon brought with it a disturbing revelation – a Reissauian guard found snooping through the central war pitch, which was reserved only for those that led their armies. Upon further interrogation, it came to light that said guard was the very same who had encouraged a young princess to sneak from her room over twelve seasons ago. The very same traitor who had single-handedly facilitated the kidnapping of Aurelie Renaud. The news traveled first to Petyr and Shae, whose steward then delivered the message to Arenna – a Jarlfru fit to be tied. 

Spine stiff, shoulders straight, and a fire blazing in dark eyes, Arenna marched through the camp to the northern edge, where Keaton tended the dragons in their dedicated paddock. They were accustomed enough to Arenna’s presence, despite the command in her gait, and so barely did more than grumble contentedly in acknowledgment of her arrival. “Keaton,” she called to her lover, who stood beneath Taivra’s neck with gentle hands smoothing over midnight scales. “Can we speak?”

Keaton had known in theory what the hardships of war would be, what the price was they would pay. But knowing and seeing were two different things and at barely nineteen seasons, there was nothing that could have truly prepared a young stable hand for what she’d seen. Blood and death, bodies torn by blades. Men and women groaning in agony as they were brought back to camp. They had gained ground and now moved closer to Agaria, tents and troops taking back land the other army had tried to conquer. The price had been Reissauian and Ranaki lives, bodies that had to be sent back to loved ones. They’d nearly lost General Dupont in an ambush, but somehow the woman had survived a sword clean through her back and out her abdomen. Still, she was lost to their cause for several weeks as she recovered, a tough blow to their advance. 

But though Keaton was not familiar with the sights and sounds and smells of war, though all of this was a shock to the system, she fought on with grace and quiet determination. With her dragons, she had flown fallen soldiers home and injured soldiers back to camp to be healed. They had discovered that Isolde had a gifted hand with healing, and finding her a purpose here as well as having the lives of their people saved by her had given Keaton greater hope. Every body, every fallen soldier, was further incentive to push on and win this war. She would see to it.

The dragons brought her peace. It was why Keaton so often could be found in their paddock -- a formality more to keep people at a distance than to keep them contained, as they could so easily exit when they saw fit. Their natures, though wild, radiated peace and wisdom. However deadly they were, war was not in a dragon’s nature. Once they’d been ridden in honor and trust. Once they’d been ridden purely to cement the bond between the human world and the spirit world by those who truly believed. Now Keaton had to bring them into war, and they followed out of trust. That was another guilt she had to deal with, though dragons were smart creatures and understood the consequences well enough. 

It never really got old, their ability to carry on a rather serious conversation even as their lips touched, their hands wandered. A familiar and comforting warmth settled low in Arenna’s belly and she sighed again, gently taking Keaton’s lower lip between her own a second before her lover continued. Spoke of home, and family. She’d already known the words to be true, but it never hurt to reaffirm that knowledge. “It may be similar,” Arenna reasoned, even as her hands fell to Keaton’s chest to begin loosening the leather cords that tied her tunic at the front. “Though Isolde’s abrupt arrival implicated my father in rather lecherous activity, and I can’t say I cared for that.” She still didn’t like to think about it, even though said activity was rather forgivable considering the circumstances. Arenna had always known her mother to be a cold and difficult woman, but recent discoveries revealed just how truly terrible she was. “But family is good, when the people are good.” If anyone knew of that condition, it was Arenna, who had no remaining blood relatives left that she cared to claim. “Isolde is good. And these are good people, Keaton. I think, with time, you will learn how lucky you are to have them. However the future intends you to have them.” Be it here in Reissau, or from afar. “They are simply more people in your life to love, and to learn from. More people to give you love, too.”  Arenna finished untying the cord and gently pushed the tunic off Keaton’s shoulders, pleased with the soft undershirt beneath that left little to the imagination. “You deserve many good things, Keaton. Including love.”

“I don’t believe for a single second that Petyr and Shae would have shown those children anything but unconditional love and encouragement,” Arenna argued gently. It was simply the logical truth, having met the royal pair and feeling more for the both of them than she ever had her own mother. Arenna sighed softly, pushing a stray curl behind her lover’s ear even as her affection for Keaton seemed to pulse like a second heartbeat through her veins. “My love, the crown is only yours if you want it, and I know that you don’t.” Only because Keaton had said exactly that a time or two before, when first she’d approached this topic with her love. “Others in Othain’s history have declined their birthright to the throne.” A fact that she wouldn’t have expected Keaton to know, but it was true and important. “After all you’ve been through, and growing up in Etreus, I’m sure none of them would expect you to simply pick up where you left off in the line of succession.” Arenna sighed softly, tucked a finger beneath Keaton’s chin and urged her closer so she might fit their lips together. “Besides, you will be a queen in your own right,” she murmured there against her mouth. “As you will be the wife of this queen some day.”

Oh, but the Renaud children were every bit as wonderful as she’d always dreamed them to be. As a child, she’d so desperately wished to know them – Aurelie, mainly, as they were so close in age and a young Arenna wanted more than anything to have a true, deep friendship with a fellow princess. That dream had been snuffed out early, but more Renauds had come and Arenna had longed for them just as surely. To finally meet them was truly a blessing, and she adored each of them equally – well, almost equally. Renley was a handsome boy, who would surely grow into a handsome man, just like his father. The blush in his cheeks when she greeted him warmly gave Arenna sweet and innocent butterflies. Little Madeline had immediately wrapped her arms around Arenna’s hips in a boisterous embrace that had the Jarlfru laughing even as Shae peeled the girl off of her. But Noelle… studious and observant, quiet until provoked with conversation of a subject she clearly loved. Noelle perhaps stole a little more of her adoration than the others, and by the time they were leaving the dragon’s paddock, Arenna walked contentedly with the girl’s hand tucked softly into her own.

Arenna felt full to bursting when at last they returned to the comfort and privacy of their own tent, mind racing with images of her lover’s family. Mostly, the look of peace that had befallen Keaton’s face in the presence of her siblings. It was harder, perhaps, to feel settled when first they’d met Shae and Petyr together. Parents who recognized immediately who the dragonrider was and the undeniable significance of her presence here in Reissau. The kids, though… It had been light, a joyous occasion with wide smiles and eyes sparkling with awe over the sight of the dragons. A moment in time not weighted by the truth of Keaton’s identity, and it had been refreshing in the wake of the day’s earlier revelations.

She took Keaton into her arms without question, stroking slowly over her chestnut mane and down the center of her back. “Oh, yes,” Arenna answered, though her tone was light and sarcastic. “Madeline looked as though she couldn’t stand to be near you.” The girl grinned, gently urging Keaton’s head up off her shoulder so she might find her eyes and hold them. “With everything in me, I believe those children will be thrilled to know you are their kin.” This Arenna said more seriously, lifting a hand to gently frame the side of her lover’s face. “Why would they resent you?”

Frivolous sounded nice, after the deep and heart straining revelation they’d all just witnessed. They were in the middle of a great war, with treachery on all sides and in both camps, but that only made it more important to take small moments. Wherever they could, to find joy and remind themselves exactly what it was they fought for. So Arenna was happy to merit the invitation, lifting her own hand to cover Keaton’s on the safe of her face. She smiled softly, a smile that crinkled the corners of her young but seasoned eyes. “Of course I’ve the time, my heart,” she answered softly with a gentle nod of her head. “As many times as I’ve shared company with the dragons, I am very much looking forward to meeting the prince and princesses. I’m sure the look of delight on young Madeline’s face will be well worth putting on hold any business that needs tending to.”

The three youngest Renauds had come when their mother called them, and together the six of them had headed through the camp to where her dragons stayed. And having met them, Keaton couldn’t see how anyone could look at them and not realize they were all related to her. Dark hair, green eyes. Gods, little Madeline was all but identical to how she’d looked when she was six seasons, it was almost scary. And how easy it was to love them, these siblings she’d never known. Renley, who was sweet and a bit shy. Who looked at Arenna with stars in his eyes, and who could blame him? A boy on the verge of growing into a man. A man, she realized abruptly, who was being trained as future king. Then Noelle, who carried a book under her arm and spoke at length on everything she knew of dragons and dragonriders, which was far more than Keaton knew, and she was one. Like Renley, she was quiet, until one got her speaking on a subject of her liking. She didn’t stop talking once they’d met the dragons, and Keaton found it endearing. And then Madeline. Boisterous, precocious, quick-footed Madeline, who’d nearly ducked into the makeshift enclosure to get a close-up of the dragons by herself before Keaton had simply scooped her up and set her high on her shoulders. The kinship she felt for all three was felt most keenly with the youngest, who was mainly herself in miniature. 

It was an emotional thing to watch. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her Keaton cry, as emotional and spiritual of a young woman as she was. But the heartfelt reunion with her family certainly had Arenna in tears, the warmth of them slipping slowly down her cheeks as she simply watched in silence, a step behind her lover. Arthur Maeson had been an incredibly loving father, one who had happily doted on his only daughter and gave her the kind of parenting an innocent deserved. Petyr reminded her so much of him, with the way he touched with hands that were as gentle as they were large. The way he looked at Keaton like the earth hadn’t moved since he last saw her. While she truly believed that everything had transpired the way it was meant to – a path that, as Keaton said, had led her straight to Arenna – she ached for the life and love she should have had, with Petyr and Shae.

But they had now, and Arenna felt a great deal of vindication knowing that she’d been the one to make whole again this family that deserved happiness. When Shae’s bright gaze moved from Keaton to her, Arenna all but melted, offering the woman another warm and truly grateful smile. "For a land I’ve never visited before, it certainly feels that way,” Arenna offered, and despite having tried to keep her distance – to give daughter and parents the space they deserved – she stepped forward. Stood beside Keaton and slid a hand into hers, fingers lacing through her lover’s trembling ones. “Any home of Keaton’s is a home of mine.”

“Well then. Well.” Shae dropped her hand again and cleared her throat. Like her daughter, she wasn’t typically one to cry -- though one might not guess that from how she’d been carrying on since first Keaton stepped into the tent. It was a rare thing, sharing a moment just as people and not as royals, speaking of family and not of duty. Though sadly their children’s lives would have to be a mixture of both, in the tradition of royals, family lines, and alliances. However much she hoped they would all be able to marry someone they loved, she knew it was possible things would go another way. So it was nice, to stand across from her firstborn and know she loved. But the emotional toll of it all was getting to her and Shae, ever the queen, swiftly dried her eyes and cheeks and straightened her shoulders as she gathered herself again. “We’ll have to tell the children-- but later. Later tonight, when we are settled in and it’s just us. Let’s take the day to be a bit frivolous, shall we? They want to see the dragons. Would you take us?”

---

It was a strange sort of irony to stand here now, listening to the daughter he’d mourned so long ago speak of Arenna Maeson with such passion. There was, of course, a time when Petyr had discussed with both his wife and Arthur the possibility of an arranged marriage between their eldest children. A true and unbreakable alliance between the northern and southern kingdoms. A way to unite an otherwise divided Othain hitherto unseen before their reigns. But Aurelie’s disappearance had thrown a wrench in that plan, and perhaps it really all had worked out for the best. Despite the injustices, despite the heartache wrought upon them, Aurelie had escaped what would have surely been a terrible marriage, as they’d all come to know Andaren Maeson as a scoundrel. Instead, their daughter, who deserved all the best things their cruel world had to offer, had fallen into step beside Arthur’s daughter. A girl Petyr had never known much about. Arthur had spoken very fondly of her, but it was generally a topic they avoided after the Renauds lost Aurelie. 

Shae spoke, a reality that Petyr hadn’t considered at first, too busy caught up in thoughts of what might have been if things had played out differently. Not an hour ago, they’d been teasing one another about Renley’s so-called puppy love. It was a thought that, as a parent, he never questioned. He would always be there to witness his son’s journey through love, until one day he would stand beside Renley and watch him take another’s hand in holy matrimony. They may have missed out on the beginnings of Keaton’s relationship with Arenna Maeson, but they were fortunate enough now to be here for the rest of it. 

“Little one,” Petyr spoke, his timbre low and gentle as he smiled not only upon his daughter, but the woman she loved. “Nothing would make us happier. You could take whatever name you wished and we would still consider you ours. In this life, and all others.” His hand fell to her shoulder once more and gave it a loving squeeze. “If I do say so myself, Keaton Renaud has a certain ring to it.” He smiled, eyes bright, the gesture altogether warm. The expression of a true and loving father. 

It was a strange thing, hearing the sweet title of endearment from a man she hardly knew, and yet had known since her own birth. She had a vague feeling she’d heard them before, and yet she did not remember a time she’d been called anything so sweet or affectionate. All she remembered of Petyr Renaud was that she’d once thought of him as “papa” (mama and papa would be so upset if they knew she was creeping outside to watch a star shower), and all she knew of him now was that he was a good and fair king. But he remembered her, as the woman at his side did. They remembered when she’d learned to walk, to talk, to read. They remembered when she’d come into the world and the first breath she’d taken upon entering it. They knew her first five seasons better than she did, and that was also a strange thought. How easy it was for Petyr to show affection now, his hand landing on her shoulder the way she’d seen fathers clasp their sons’ shoulders in the village. “Keaton Renaud it is, then,” she managed to say with a small smile. It was the least she could offer them, and give herself.

---

The girl called Keaton recounted what she could of the night she was taken from their home and stolen from their hearts, and Petyr felt the rage rise up swiftly. An altogether familiar sensation, one that had battled emotional agony the morning they found Aurelie’s bed empty and cold. He knew – they’d both known – that their only daughter would have never chosen to leave them. Aurelie had been a bright and happy child, eager to learn and a precious heart bursting with love for her family and the kingdom she would one day inherit. No, they’d known beyond the shadow of a doubt that their Aurelie had been taken by force, and it had been nothing less than a dagger through the heart for both he and Shae. Here he stood, watching the subtle and glorious movements of his eldest daughter’s face as she recalled that night, and Petyr somehow felt angrier now than he had then. Because the veil had been lifted, the mystery unraveled. There was a face and a name to the shadow who had tried snuff out the brightest light of his life, and were Jarl Kaeggo not already cold in the ground, Petyr would have been on his way to Etreus then and there to push a dagger through his heart, and dump his body in the river.

He’d have to thank the Jarlfru later for taking care of that for him.

When Shae spoke, Petyr glanced to his side, looking away from Keaton for the first time since she’d entered the tent. The lilacs, a bittersweet subject. After Aurelie disappeared, his mourning wife had spent many a morning with the lilac bushes. Feeding the soil with her own delicate hands, ensuring the plants had enough water. Caring for them, as if their little lives were entwined with Aurelie’s. Nurturing them, because she no longer had a child to mother. Petyr released one of Keaton’s hands to slide his arm around his wife’s shoulder, comforting her with a gentle squeeze.

“I can’t imagine the trials you faced, little one.” Little one, the reverent and innocent name he used with all his children. Even Renley, who seemed to grow taller by the month. “I’m sorry for them, and for the life that was stolen from you.” Here, Petyr released Keaton’s other hand and instead rest his on her shoulder. It looked more a gesture suited for his son than it did one of his daughters, but Keaton was no delicate princess. “But it’s turned you into a strong warrior, I can see that plainly. Hand of the Jarlfru, a woman likely to be the most powerful in Othain.” Petyr paused, eyes shifting sideways to his wife where a small smirk touched his lips. “Sorry, love,” he muttered to Shae, offering her shoulder a small squeeze. “And a dragonrider to boot. You bring honor to Reissau, and to our family. You are Keaton of the Great River.” Neither he nor Shae could question or fight that, and he gave the girl a small nod of respect. “But you are also a Renaud.” Finally, and with such tenderness, Petyr shifted his hand from Keaton’s shoulder to her strong jaw. “And it’s mighty good to see you.”

It was hard, this meeting, this giving and discovering of truth. She could see so clearly that these people had loved her once, had loved her all this time, and yet she could not say the same because they were still strangers to her. She was sure she’d loved them as a child. Children who were loved tended to love whole-heartedly in return, after all. But the river had stolen the memory of them, of that love, and had left her with only vague discomfort and rampant uncertainty upon meeting them again. They were good people, she could see that. And their love for each other was strong, something she valued, as she knew what it was to love someone that way. She watched tears fall down Shae’s cheeks, watched the easy way Petyr wrapped an arm around her, watched as the woman who was a Queen turned into him and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, just a woman in pain being comforted by the man she loved. It meant so much to her that she’d come from this, but she didn’t know how to again feel like she was part of it. Maybe she never would get there again. 

“I don’t remember anything from before the river,” Keaton said, taking a deep breath as the king’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, then her jaw. Touching the child he’d lost, as if to reassure himself she was real and here again. Keaton didn’t begrudge him that much. “But some part of me has always been here, and even the Great River could not steal from me my core beliefs, the central values that I am sure came from you.” A strange statement to make, to feel as true. Keaton glanced sideways at Arenna and then back to the King, green eyes shining with certainty. “I don’t know where life would have taken me had I grown up here. None of us can know. But I’m certain that fate would have always led me to Arenna. To be at her side, that is what was always in my stars. In every lifetime, in every path chosen, there could not have been another outcome for me. I want you to take comfort in knowing that, in knowing that I have discovered the destiny meant for me and that it all led back here in the end. Back... back home.” She took a deep breath, glancing from one to the other as she gave them a moment to absorb what she meant, what she was saying. She saw something sad and soft in Shae’s eyes. 

“You have found love,” she murmured. “We were not there to see that blossom in you, and for that, my heart breaks. But know that love is cherished here, and that we smile on your destined path, Keaton.”