#mara:threads

“You ever feel guilty for having a good time when others aren’t?” she asked the person beside her, already several drinks in.

Mara wasn't given art materials in the hospital. They thought she might hurt herself with them. That was fair, but it also made the 72-hour hold absolutely miserable. She was in the university art studio now, sketching out that misery in charcoal on an A5 canvas in front of her. She didn't look up as someone else entered the room. It was a communal space, open for all the art students to work on their various projects throughout the day even if they didn't have class, so Mara couldn't be irritated about it. She just had to accept the other's presence. It wasn't an unpleasant presence, at least.

"Shit! Oh fuck," she muttered as she hurriedly did her best to wrap them all back up in the blanket she'd been carrying them in, hoping nobody had seen her.

“Um. Help? Can someone please help me? I’m stuck!” she called out to anyone who might be walking by, kicking her legs to try and get someone’s attention.

She stepped into the room in a haze of flowery perfume, every strand of hair shiny and in place, every piece of clothing fitting and flattering. She carried herself like a queen, so was it really a surprise that she called herself Reyna? Not at all.

Mara felt like an awkward gazelle instantly. “He-hello! Welcome to the Children of the Moon. Our meeting isn’t set to start for another hour . . .”

“Oh I’m not here for that,” Reyna said dismissively, waving her hand. “I came to talk to you. You’re the youngest priestess Faerune has had for quite some time, aren’t you?”

“Yes . . .” Mara cut herself off before she said ‘your majesty.’ It was on the tip of her tongue, but that was silly and inappropriate.

“I hear you’re quite good at enchantments.”

Where did she hear that? Mara felt her cheeks grow warm. “I think I’m alright,” she said, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“Well, I hope you’re better than just ‘alright,’” Reyna said, and pulled a sword out from nowhere.

Mara’s eyes widened, and she took a small step back. Was she about to get murdered?

“I need you to enchant this for me,” Reyna said, calm as ever. “I need it to be powerful enough to kill a faerie. Quite an old faerie.”

Mara stared in horror and disbelief. She glanced around quickly, but there was nobody else around. They were alone. “You can’t be serious,” she hissed at Reyna.

“Oh, I’m extremely serious,” Reyna said, not a speck of amusement on her face. “I did my research. I know your family died in the earthquake. I know your best friend and her daughter are stuck outside the walls. You’ve been keeping your head down, but I know you don’t want certain people to remain in certain positions. I won’t involve you in anything else. I just need this enchanted. Will you do it?”

Mara looked down at the sword, swallowing hard. She’d never seen one this close before. It was a simple weapon: no frills or engravings or gold in the hilt. It was a soldier’s weapon, not a queen’s. Mara wondered where Reyna had gotten it.

She wanted to say no. It was too dangerous, and Mara wasn’t a hero. She wasn’t brave and responsible like her sister. She wasn’t wise and powerful like her father, or helpful and kind like her mother. She was the wild child, the mistake, the drug addict. Despite trying to pull herself together for her new position, a part of her feared that’s what she always would be. She wasn’t the right person for this, and she could feel herself getting ready to tell Reyna just that.

But then she thought of Daniel and Terezia and little Rowan. She was unable to help them in any way that mattered. She had to watch, helpless, as Daniel drank himself to death, heartbroken and alone. She could only wonder if Terezia and Rowan were safe on the other side, if they were alive at all.

If doing this, helping Reyna, allowed Daniel and Terezia and Rowan to be reunited, then maybe all the pain would’ve been worth it. Maybe then she’d feel like she’d actually done some good in her life, something useful. If she could make her best friends happy again, wouldn’t that be worth the risk?

Mara inhaled sharply and reached out to take the sword from Reyna. “I’ll do it.”

Reyna smiled. “Thank you. You’re going to save us all, Xiomara Garcia Álvarez.”