#olwyn as fen'harel au? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justanartsysideblog · 8 years

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What happens to Glory in the Olwyn as Fen'Harel AU?

Alright anon this...this turned out much longer than I expected it to. But enjoy!

Warnings for death and emotional manipulation. Glory, Thenvunin, Desire, and these versions of the Evanuris belong to @feynites.

---

Glory is large and bright and beautiful.

Determination follows it, twisting beneath the largenebulous of golden light. “One day I will be is large and as great as you are,”

“Strive to be better than you are today,” Glory responds.

“I will,” Determination agrees. “But I will also try to beas large as you.” And then it goes, because Purpose clings to Glory and needsto be taken away, before it loses itself, and Longing is too far for comfort because even if it desires Glory it cannot stop its nature, and Determinationmust look after them both.

It thinks back to that time often, after Determinationbecomes Fen’Sulahn and later Olwyn. To the time when Glory explained to her thecore of where her determination rested, and her path began.

She wishes she could go back, and give Glory some wisdom of her own.

Go deep into theDreaming and never come back, because the People cannot attain Glory withoutdestroying it in the process.

---

Olwyn sees the vessel for the first time while it is stillempty.

Ghilan’nain has finished crafting her latest hound and Olwynhas come to retrieve it, and to speak with her sister’s wife about a group ofGhilan’nain’s merchants who have been trading recently at an outpost in Olwyn’sfurthest holdings; a sliver of land, wedged between a corner Ghilan’nain andFalon’Din’s largest territories. Mostly wilderness, save for the outpost mannedby guards and their wolfhounds; an outpost on edge over Ghilan’nain and Falon’Din’slatest argument.

Olwyn does not know what they’re fighting over this time,only that her brother is in a fouler mood than usual, and came once to Adahlanto speak with her on the subject—well, angrily rant in her atrium and demandshe punish Ghilan’nain in some way to ‘ensure the charlatan knows that she isnot one of us’.

Her brother is likely overacting, as he is want to do. Andthis journey is meant to be a pleasant one, so Olwyn does not wish to spoil itby bringing up a matter that does not directly involve her. The merchantbusiness is a minor thing, mostly about trade procedures. So there is no needto pry, when Ghilan’nain greets her and her entourage, and leads Olwyn throughher workshop to where the newest hound awaits.

She catches a glimpse through an open doorway—something goldand glittering, catching an errant ray of sunlight—and turns just as the way isshut off, and Ghilan’nain begins describing a new creature she has created, andOlwyn thinks no more of it.

---

The next time Olwyn sees the vessel, Glory is held withinit.

Falon’Din comes to her, in high spirits, and invites her toa grand celebration in his chief city for an ‘unveiling’. A new statue hisartists have crafted, most likely, something to rival that of Sylaise’artisans, which he will then debate sending to Arlathan; a taunt to theirsister, as a show of his greatness? Or is it best to keep it in his ownholdings, where he can look upon it often?

It is probably why he has called her in the first place, sohe can speak of it in length and then ask her what she believes he should do,all the while planning to do what he wishes anyway.

She will humor him. He is at his best when he has somethingto brag about; when he feels great, and accomplished. He’s always viewed such worksas a sign of his achievements of his purpose, for if he were not such a greatprotector of the People, they would not gift him with such grand images.

And if he has those things, he can look upon them, when hechafes and worries that his purpose is not being fulfilled, and it mollifieshim, somewhat. It is a good thing, and a welcome one, and Olwyn won’t deny himsuch things. It keeps the People from suffering, and that is the most importantthing. She can deal with his boasting for a few hours, if that is the finaloutcome.

When she arrives through the proper eluvian with her smallentourage, one of Falon’Din’s attendants greets her, bowing low. They usher herthrough grand hall with a high, vaulted ceiling made of bone inlaid with veinsof ruby ore. It is like walking beneath the polished carcass of a giant beast,and Haurshos keeps close, ears back against his skull, until they enter alarger, more open space where Dirthamen also awaits.

Fear and Deceit are hidden somewhere in the carved raftersabove them, Olwyn knows, but she is surprised to see that her younger brotherhas brought other attendants as well. Turmoil, and another she does notrecognize.

“Brother,” She greets, as she grabs his hands in her own. Hehas only two of them today—likely an attempt to placate Falon’Din, who findsDirthamen’s tendency toward extra limbs distasteful—and his outfit is…morecohesive than usual.

“What happened to all of your belts?” She asks, “I likedthem.”

“I did as well.” Dirthamen nods. “Falon’Din said they wereexcessive.”

Olwyn looks up at the carven images of their brother gracingthe corners of the room. “I do not think our brother can say much on thatsubject. Wear as many belts as you like, Dirthamen.” She pats him on theshoulder, “Your mask is very nice today.”

“Thank you. It is not a mask.”

Olwyn peers closer and oh, yes that is flesh, isn’t it? Or an approximation to what flesh should looklike, although the color and texture is…not entirely correct. And the eyesare…well…it is lovely in its own way. She makes to speak again, to tell himthat the eyes might look a bit more elvhen if he gives himself pupils, whenFalon’Din appears through the nearest doorway, his usual entourage trailingbehind him. They outnumber Dirthamen’s and her own more than twice over, perusual.

Falon’Din never seems intent to have less than fifteen ofhis followers near enough to sing his praises.

“Brother,” Falon’Din greets, glancing briefly at Dirthamenand scowling, “Couldn’t you try and look normalfor once?”

“I have two eyes this time.” Dirthamen supplies.

Falon’Din rolls his own and lets out a derisive snort,before turning to Olwyn. “Sister, did you have to bring your mutt?”

Olwyn frowns, “We’re here to enjoy ourselves, not argue. Don’tstart a fight before we’ve even greeted one another.”

Falon’Din waves her off, “Fine, the dog can stay in theHall.” His frown turns into a pleased grin quickly, “I have something grand toshow the two of you. Come with me, and leave your People here. My own will seeto them.”

Olwyn nods to Saethil and Impulse and follows her brother.Saethil does not like leaving her side, especially if Haurshos and the otherhounds cannot follow, but Olwyn sees no reason to ruin Falon’Din’s good mood bypressing the issue. Besides, there is nothing to worry about, she knows.Despite Falon’Din’s outbursts, she has never doubted her sibling’s love forher, even if it shows itself rarely.

“I will be showing it at our next gathering,” Falon’Dincontinues, as they head down another hallway, past wards for security andsilence, and more of Falon’Din’s ostentatious statues. “But I wished the two ofyou to see it first, so that you can enjoy the look on Sylaise’ face when shesees what I have that she does not.”

So he has draggedthem here to brag over some new piece of art. Olwyn turns to Dirthamen, toshare a commiserating smile, but he seems more intent on studying the tiles attheir feet—he’s probably found a fascinating piece of spellwork infused intothe carvings—so Olwyn decides not to disturb him. Both of them don’t need to bebored to death by Falon’Din’s boasting.

Judging from his good mood, whatever issue he’d had withGhilan’nain is past, which is a rarity. He usually holds grudges and stews uponthem for a long while before he lets Olwyn talk him into a more reasonable wayto vent his frustrations. He is in such high spirits she almost ventures squery on the subject, to see what has transpired to make him forget whateverimagined slight there was.

But there is no reason to sour things so quickly. He’llthink she’s taking away from whatever great ‘unveiling’ he has planned to makethe issue about her own self-righteous thoughts ‘on subjects that don’t concernher’ despite his own tendency to involve her in his affairs when he sees a needfor allies.

Olwyn lets out a small laugh, as they turn down anothercorridor, through more wards, “Are you that worried Sylaise will steal yourgreat statue, brother?”

Falon’Din grins, and it is nearly a feral thing, as he stopsin front of a pair of doors, “Not a statue, sister.” Then he pushes them openand walks inside, Olwyn and Dirthamen following curiously.

The room is large, and gives off a sense of light despitethe lack of real windows. The paintings on the wall filter in magical sunlight,and the walls have a soft, warm glow. Seated in the middle, lying across agilded settee, is a figure.

Gold and glittering and full of loss and confusion.

And that’s when the feelings truly hit her, and she knowsexactly what spirit is contained within. The entire room is so full of hurt andmisery that the air is thick with it.It makes her skin crawl, and Dirthamen physically recoils, small slivers ofshadow tucking themselves back beneath his robes.

Her throat locks, as she recognizes the construct she’d seenin Ghilan’nain’s workshop.

Ghilan’nain had not been crafting a vessel fit for a spirit,but a prison for one. Olwyn can feel the heavy enchantments carved into itsbones, lying beneath the skin, to keep all of Glory within.

“…what is this…?” Her voice shakes, as she clenches herfists so hard her nails break the skin of her palms. What has he done? The air around her goes cold, so cold it burns, asshe locks her gaze with Glory and Glory reaches up a hand toward her, a plea.

The cold anger is fury, and it is so strong she almost doesnot recognize it as her own. This kind of anger is foreign to her.

Dirthamen is not angry. Sad, perhaps; she can feel a bit ofsorrow in the air that is not Glory’s, and most definitely not Falon’Din’s. Buthe is not angry, and that makes her even moreangry. Because Dirthamen does not see how cruel this thing their brother hasdone is, or else he does not think it cruel at all.

Or perhaps he has always known Falon’Din capable of suchthings, and so he is not shocked, and can properly hide his disgust.

“What have you done?”She rounds on her brother, watches as Falon’Din’s smile fades to a frown. Andmore confusion, from him this time—he does not understand why she is so angry how can he not understand? How can henot see what he has done?

Falon’Din shrugs, “Andruil wished for a worthy hunt.” Heglances toward Glory and then back, “Are you jealous? The vessel Ghilan’naincrafted is nearly worthy of the spirit it holds. It seems she is a capablecraftsman after all.”

Andruil and Ghilan’nain. They knew.

Her mind has gone oddly blank.

“Free Glory now,” Olwyn demands, “Perhaps they have not beenin the vessel too long. Perhaps it can be reversed,” She takes a few stepstoward them, gathering magic in her palms. Perhaps it is still more spirit than elf yet,and can be returned to the Dreaming and become Glory again, perhaps it is notcorrupted, or too far gone, perhaps—

“DO NOT TOUCH THEM!”

She slams into the opposite wall with such force it nearlycollapses, large chunks of granite breaking free and cracking despite the wardsin the stone as it takes the brunt of her own hastily cast barrier. The barrieritself dissipates quickly, like a candle snuffed out by an errant breeze, andthe area around her is thick with steam as heat rises into the air.

Falon’Din stands opposite her, arm outstretched, facemurderous and fearful all at once.

“Are you hurt?” Dirthamen crouches beside her, helping herto stand, but she’s far more shocked than injured at the moment. She lets himdo as he wishes, never breaking eye contact with Falon’Din.

“I would have snapped my neck if I hadn’t thrown up abarrier,” She manages.

“I knew you would,” Falon’Din shakes his head, and shenearly misses the small flicker of concern that escapes him, “And a broken neckwould not kill you anyway.”

“Free Glory,” She demands again. “How could you think it wasjust to trap it? You are a Leader of the People. Your purpose is to protect them. How could you imprison theGlory of Elvhenan and think it right?”

Falon’Din turns from her then, toward Glory again,expression twisting before he rounds on her as she shakes off Dirthamen’s grip.“I could not protect the Glory of Elvhenan unless they became one of thePeople. Is that not the purpose yougave me, sister?” Falon’Din sneers.

Olwyn bears her teeth in a snarl, “Do not twist my words foryour own selfish reasons. You have destroyed Glory. It was never meant to bemore than itself. You have torn it from the Dreaming and we shall all sufferfor it.”

“We became more,”Falon’Din growls back, as Dirthamen takes a step forward to get between them.“And we became great.”

“We chose tobecome more.”

“No,” Falon’Din responds coldly. “You chose.”

And we followedhangs silently in the air between them, unspoken but understood. Olwynswallows, and straightens, and tries to keep her voice from shaking. “CapturingGlory does not help you protect the People,” Olwyn shakes her head. “You havedestroyed it.”

“I was harnessing it for us!”Falon’Din shouts back. “We are the leaders of the People. We deserve glory, forall that we do.”

“You mean youdeserve glory.” Olwyn’s eyes narrow. It is easier to focus on how angry she israther than the odd hollowness and guilt that came with Falon’Din’s attack andwords. Dirthamen moves between them more fully, and she feels his concern cutthrough her fury.

“I do.” Falon’Din replies, unrepentant.

“You are not worthy of it.” Is all she says, as she turnsand storms out of his rooms.

---

She goes to her mother first, because she knows her motheris wise, and will know the best course of action. Justice is her father’spurview, but he will act with anger, like herself, over this tragedy.Falon’Din will listen to their mother, if she tells him to free Glory, and shewill find a way to do so without making it seem like a demand.

“A travesty,” Mythal agrees, with genuine sorrow, as theysit in her private gardens. She sighs, and it is a soft, regretful sound,“Glory is not a spirit that should have been treated in such a manner. Yourbrother and sister and your sister’s wife have acted out of turn. I will haveto speak with them.”

Olwyn’s shoulders sag in relief. “I am glad you will help.”

Mythal nods, “I will speak with your father, and we willthink on what must be done now.”

Olwyn frowns, “Surely we must try and free Glory as quicklyas possible! There is a chance yet, that it has not fully taken to its vesseland corrupted. We can send it far into the Dreaming, where it can recover…” Shetrails off, as her mother shakes her head.

“Glory is no longer itself, Fen’Sulahn.” Mythal reaches forher glass of wine, and takes a sip. “It has become more than Glory. It wouldnot be safe to release it from its body, and it cannot simply be freed. Itwould need to be shattered, and we cannot destroy the Glory of Elvhenan. Gloryhas always been a symbol to the People.It cannot be shattered.”

“But it is…Glory is suffering.”Olwyn protests.

“Your brother is not cruel to his followers,” Mythaldismisses, “Glory will not be treated unkindly, though Falon’Din will need tobe instructed on how to introduce the Glory of Elvhenan, perhaps, now that itsembodiment is inevitable.”

“Glory suffers because it was imprisoned,” Olwyn continues,shaking her head, “It is not a physicalpain, mother. It does not deserve—”

“Whatever Glory deserved is not the issue at hand,Fen’Sulahn,” Mythal interjects, and her voice is stern and her golden eyes colddespite their warm color. “Glory is no longer a spirit. Glory is one of thePeople, and it our duty to lead well. What kind of Leader would you be, if youdestroyed the Glory of the Elvhen?”

“This is an injustice,” Olwyn presses.

“And so your father and I will judge,” Mythal nods, “This isnot your concern any longer, my daughter. Use this time to reflect. Surely youcould have prevented this, if you had noticed something amiss sooner. You areinsightful, I had expected you to know when your brother would act sofoolishly.”

Olwyn’s cheeks heat with shame, as she thinks of the glimpseof Glory in Ghilan’nain’s workshop. She should have known, her mother is right.This is her fault.

“I am sorry,” Olwyn places her own cup down, the wine sourin her mouth.

Mythal grabs her hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.“You are forgiven, of course. I cannot fault you for this mistake. I know youwill be more diligent in the future. A mother’s duty is to forgive. It is why Iwill forgive your brother for his actions as well. Remember it well,Fen’Sulahn. We will not speak on this subject again.”

---

Olwyn broaches the subject with Elgar’nan only once. Herants, and roars, body alight, and she presses, oversteps herself, thinkingthat he might agree with her on freeing Glory. He backhands her and shattersher jaw, and tells her to never cross her mother again.

She leaves his palace feeling guiltier than ever, and withsome odd, lingering doubt that settles into her core and sticks.

If her father, the face of all that is just and right, willnot serve justice, then is he truly just himself? It frightens her a bit, thatthought. Of course her father isjust. He knows what he doing, just as her mother does. She is being foolish.She is simply not seeing something that they can see.

She shouldn’t doubt.

But she does.

The next time she sees Andruil, it is at a hunt at heryounger sister’s request. She almost turns the invitation down, but finds shecannot be that petty. She wants answers, as well. So she goes, and her sister nearly looks apologetic when they meet.

It is good, to go traipsing through the wilds and pretendthat she is back to the times before all of this, when Glory was a spirit andthe Keepers had not gone mad and there had been so much promise in the world.

“Mother gave me an earful,” Andruil mutters with a ruefulsmile, “She wouldn’t stop lecturing until I agreed to give her one of my silvermines.”

“You have plenty,” Olwyn replies, more sullenly than shemeans too, as she glances through the trees, looking for any trace of movement.The beast they are tracking is of Ghilan’nain’s make, something new and viciousand able to camouflage itself perfectly, which is why she has brought Haurshos,and Andruil has her own hunting hounds.

“It’s just a spirit, Fen’Su,”Andruil teases, using the nickname Sylaise gave her long ago. “Why are you soangry? Are you mad that my wife didn’t offer it to you first? I suggested we give it to you instead,but my wife was adamant.”

That is likely a lie as well. If not for Ghilan’nain’sinsistence that Falon’Din be gifted Glory to smooth over their argument,Andruil would have taken the spirit for herself, Olwyn knows her sister too well for such a lie. Olwyn’s jaw tightens, and shegrinds her teeth. “I am angry because Glory was unjustly taken. It was notgiven a choice to take a body. Why did you agree to capture it?”

Andruil shrugs, “It was a worthy quarry.”

“I don’t agree with your sense of sport,” Olwyn mutters,urging her hart forward, reaching for one of her hunting javelins as she goes.

Andruil follows quickly, bow at the ready, and flashes Olwyna wicked grin, “I’ll find something more to your tastes, and have Ghilan’naincraft a proper body for it. Will that make you stop moping?”

And then Andruil’s hart lunges as her hounds start bayingand Haurshos lets out a howl, and the chase begins.

---

Desire comes to her, twisted and sharp and full of fury.

It asks for a body. And for justice. Justice, Olwyn knows,is her father’s domain. But her father and mother have allowed Falon’Din hisprize, despite the nature of its acquisition.

Her father has not been just.

It is the first time she has decided his ruling on a subjectcannot be trusted…and the first time she has decided to act against it.

“I cannot promise you an immediate conclusion to thistragedy,” Olwyn admits. “But I will promise that I shall strive to right this wrong.”

Desire is nearly gone itself, unable to become what it oncewas, and Olwyn aches. She wonders how many of her siblings it went to beforethis, or if she was its first choice. Shewonders how many turned Desire away with a mocking laugh or a dismissive wave.She wonders if her father threatened to shatter it for its insistence against his ruling.

It is determined to free its friend.

It is a commendable goal, especially for a corruptingspirit.

“Your determination to aid your companion is true,” Sheannounces with a nod. “A body I will grant you, to do what must be done. Do notstray from that which you seek, and I shall offer you a place among my ranks,to serve the People, and to stand in the face of adversity with head held high,and conscience clear. Move forward with conviction, and you shall find yourselfwelcome in Fen’Sulahn’s halls.”

As Olwyn orders a body to be crafted, she wonders if it isDesire’s conscience she wishes to clear…or her own.

---

A new war begins, before Olwyn can act further.

The security of all the People is paramount, and Olwyncannot justify using the opportunity to free Glory, if it endangers others atthe same time. But she thinks, perhaps, she can use this, if only she were ableto think of a plan.

She has never been one for treachery and deceit. It does notbecome her, and nefarious thoughts are not ones that come to her naturally.

Desire wishes to act quickly, now that they are close, toact upon the promise Olwyn made, that Desire could rescue Glory if theopportunity were to arise. And Olwyn wants to act as well. She is stubborn, ahound that refuses to let go once its bitten down on something, but she cannot act yet.

She throws herself into battle wildly.

Andruil jokingly calls her a mad dog, Sylaise sniffs indisapproval, Dirthamen radiates concern whenever she is near, and Falon’Din hasmade himself scarce after an argument had ensued that leveled half a nearbyglen. Mythal pulls her aside and speaks of caution, and deliberation, “You aremore level-headed than this, Fen’Sulahn. You are acting like your brother.”

“I am not Falon’Din,” Olwyn snaps back angrily, and thendeflates when she sees the disappointment in Mythal’s eyes. “I am sorry,mother.”

“Go and rest,” Mythal soothes, “Take comfort in Sylaise’camps, and center yourself.”

She tries.

She forces the anger back, because it does not help, and shewants to forgive Falon’Din and excuse his behavior as a simple mistake. And sheknows her anger is directed mostly at herself, because this is her fault. She could have preventedthis, like her mother said, but instead she allowed it to happen because shedid not pay enough attention.

“I must find a way to fix this,” She murmurs againstHaurshos’ fur, as she presses her face into his neck. “I must free Glory, andbridge the gap between my brother and I, so that Falon’Din does not repeat thismistake.”

She is not certain which is more unlikely.

Haurshos gives a low comforting woof and presses his noseagainst her cheek, and affectionately slobbers on her armor. “Thank you, oldfriend,” she reaches up to scratch his ears, as the wards around her tentflare.

“You must forgive him.”

She turns to find Dirthamen standing just inside the flap ofher tent, nearly invisible among the shadows cast by the lights hanging fromthe beams. Haurshos wags his tail in greeting, and curls back up on his half ofthe tent to sleep.

“He needs to apologize,” Olwyn counters, as she motions forDirthamen to join her at her table for a drink. Dirthamen sits, just on theedges of the chair, too large and not solid enough to fit in it fully.

“He is worried that you are still angry. He does notunderstand why.”

“Do you?” Olwynventures.

Dirthamen is silent for a long while, as Olwyn listens tothe crackling of the fire, and Haurshos’ snores, and the soft murmur of Saethiland the other guards at the door. It is an easy trick, to make certain thesounds are muted both ways, and not just from the inside, but Olwyn likes tohear what’s going on around her, just in case. This near to the front lines shecannot take any chances.

“No,” Dirthamen answers finally, sounding thoughtful. “Heis our brother, and Glory is not.”

“You shouldn’t forgive him just because of that,” Olwynrefutes, but some little part of her still believes she should for that veryreason. But those words sound like Falon’Din’s more than Dirthamen’s. “He stillneeds to apologize, because he did something wrong. I will forgive him once he’sdone that.” She rubs the back of her neck, wincing at the tightness in hermuscles, “Did he send you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you have come if he hadn’t?”

“Yes,” Dirthamen confirms. “I am worried. I do not likebeing on the battlefield where I cannot see you.”

Olwyn looks her brother over, letting her own concern settlein the air around them both. If Falon’Din has been angry at her ignoring him,he might have taken it out on their youngest brother…and Dirthamen does not hitback as often as he should. And Falon’Din has gotten so good at not turning his frustrations toward violence but if…

…if he has done so again, that is her fault as well.Something else she could have prevented, if she’d only thought to look.

She tugs on the edge of his hood with a soft smile, “Oncethis next battle finishes, I will have a talk with him, and we will see whatcomes of it. I do not hate him, Dirthamen. Do not worry.”

“I know,” Dirthamen nods. “We cannot hate him.”

“No,” Olwyn sighs, “we can’t, can we?”

---

Haurshos howls, and the other wolfhounds follow suit, and thesound is haunting in the mist filled morning. A scare tactic, because theNameless know what that sound means. They know what follows those howls.

Olwyn sits comfortably atop Haurshos’ back, spear in hand,and her javelins at her side.

“A good day for a fight,” Fortitude grins, voice hushed, hisown hounds on either side of him, teeth bared as they sniff the air.

Saethil gives a grunt of agreement from atop her hart,to Olwyn’s left. A bird shrieks somewhere above them as sunlight piecesthrough a gap in the mist, and Olwyn lets out a deep breath, then urgesHaurshos forward to the roar of battle, as Dirthamen flies past her, blackscales glistening.

Olwyn is not certain how long the battle lasts. Time becomesirrelevant, as the air around her fills with fire, and she sees red. She movesfrom point to point, and tallies the dead in her mind, to be remembered later,as allies and enemies fall.

Above her the sky is filled with lightning and ice anddragonfire, as Dirthamen and Falon’Din tear apart the threats in the air, andOlwyn remains on the ground with the bulk of their soldiers at the front. Theyneed to get over the next hillside, and secure a new front, so that Ghilan’naincan move in with her beasts to hold it while they rest for the next push.

Glory falls.

It happens to quickly, without any warning, as their barriershatters like glass.

Olwyn feels it, like a punch to the gut, as Glory collapses tothe ground and goes silent. All that is Glory is gone, ripped from the Wakingworld, leaving an empty, open wound in their place. Desire lets out an inhuman sound from somewhere to her right, and the wolfhounds follow suit, drowning outthe triumphant cheers of the Nameless with their mournful howls.

Falon’Din’s soldiers closest to Glory’s body scatter as theline breaks and the Nameless charge.

Olwyn curses and barks an order to Haurshos as she changesshape, to the one she is known for: large fangs and too many eyes and fur thecolor of old blood and paws the size of round-shields.

By the time the battle is over, her entire body aches andshe cannot get the taste of blood out of her mouth. She stands on the edges ofthe battlefield, and waves Sympathy off as he tries to heal her wounds, sending him to heal others who need it more.

She stands on the edges of the destruction she has wrought,and looks through the smoke at the bodies piled atop dirt and grass likerubbish in a midden, and knows that most of the bodies before her fell to herown fangs and fire.

She swallows, and the metallic, sour taste in her mouth doesnot dissipate.

Too late.

She was too late.

This is her fault, again.

She wants to cry, but she pulls the anger and the despairand disgust deep inside, tightly reigned, because she cannot let anyone see,not after all of this.

Haurshos lets out a small wine, and she turns to see himnosing his way through a pile of corpses.

“Stop that,” She croaks, coughing, reaching for her waterskein and draining it before walking toward her hound. “Leave them be,Haurshos.”

But Haurshos ignores her, moving bodies until Olwyn catchesa glimmer of gold through the dust and smoke and her breath catches.

Glory.

Haurshos wines again, and tugs Glory’s body gently, teethhooked in the straps of their armor, until they are free of the pile, and Olwyncomes up alongside him, as Haurshos begins licking Glory’s face clean. “Move,move boy,” Olwyn pushes him, and he goes without much fuss, until Olwyn can seethe steady rise and fall of Glory’s chest.

Glory is breathing. Glory is alive. Olwyn turns, scanning the battlefield, glad that Haurshoshas hidden the body with his bulk, and finally finds the person she’s beenlooking for. “Sympathy!” She barks, and the healer comes forward, robesplastered with muck and blood, and he makes a strangled sound as he catchessight of Glory.

“Take them back to Adahlan immediately,” Olwyn orderssoftly, “Take Haurshos and Desire with you, and Thenvunin. Heal them, and tellThenvunin he is to guard them with his life. Keep this quiet, Sympathy.”

“Yes My Lady,” Sympathy nods, as Olwyn constructs wards forsubtlety and illusion to keep wandering eyes from noticing anything amiss, asshe places Glory on Haurshos’ back and Sympathy helps her strap the unconsciouself to her hound.

---

Glory is dead.

The awakened construct that remains is Glory but also isn’t;a shadow of awareness. It feels, but Olwyn does not know if it feels; the air around it remains silentand clear. Sympathy is convinced they are a person, and not simply a vessel ofa shattered spirit.

Olwyn has never seen a construct quite like it, and so shelets Sympathy muse while she travels to Arlathan, to meet with the rest of herfamily to speak about what must be done now that the Nameless have been pushedback once more, and to tally their losses.

And she wonders, as she journeys to the seat of the empire,what her brother will do when she tells him what she has done. She will notkeep it a secret any longer than she must. Lying does not become her, and she does not wishto make a habit of it.

Olwyn keeps her entourage small—Saethil and Impulse and Fortitude.Haurshos and the other wolfhounds she leaves at her Arlathan estate withMelarue, and Haurshos pouts when she orders him to remain. But Sylaise willcomplain about his size, and she will have enough to deal with today, she knows.She does not need to add to it.

When she arrives through the eluvians to the meeting hall,her brothers are already present. Falon’Din glances at her, and huffs, as hereturns to his goblet of wine. Dirthamen nods, as she takes her seat beside hisown.

It does not take long for the others to arrive, withSylaise and June being the last despite being the only two who residepermanently within Arlathan.

“It is good to see all of you, children,” Mythal smiles,after their initial greetings. “I am pleased we can meet without the cloud of warabove our heads. We have all been away from one another for too long, and are weary…”She trails off, as Falon’Din lets out a disgusted sound that makes her pause. “Doyou have something you wish to say, Falon’Din?”

“We can rest later,” Falon’Din snaps. “There are issues tobe dealt with first.”

Andruil snorts, “How unlike you, to worry about theefficiency of our meetings.”

Faln’Din flashes her a glare, before turning back to Mythal,“Someone has taken Glory’s vessel and I will have it returned to me!”

“Perhaps the Nameless retrieved it when they signaled theirretreat. Unless you are suggesting one of us has taken it,” Sylaise counters with a smile, “Are you accusing us of theft, brother?”

“You have been known to covet what I own,” Falon’Din shootsback, “You have always been jealous of my accomplishments. I am certain you saw this as ample opportunity to better your standing among the People.”

Sylaise’s eyes narrow, and June gives a low growl in theback of his throat and makes to speak, but Mythal interrupts. “Let us notthrow out wild accusations, Falon’Din.”

“If my dear sister has nothing to hide, she will not mind ifmy people search her holdings, then.”

“There is no need to search,” Olwyn replies calmly as shestands and her family goes silent. “The construct is in my possession.”

The look of betrayal upon her brother’s face makes herstomach churn. But she cannot turn back now; she cannot let him do what hewishes any longer. She has failed once, she will not do so again.

“You have proven yourself incapable, and I do not believeyou should be given the vessel merely to take another great spirit from theDreaming for your own trophy.”

Elgar’nan stands as well, with a nod, “You have proven yourpoint, Fen’Sulahn. He has squandered his gift.”

“That does not mean our daughter has a right to the vesselthat remains,” Mythal hums, looking around. “Let us sit, and discuss thiscalmly.”

“The body was of my wife’s make,” Andruil intervenes,glancing between Falon’Din and Olwyn, “The construct should bereturned to her, then.” Ghilan’nain nods, and Olwyn can feel it, the smallundercurrent of irritation from her.

Ghilan’nain wentlooking for the body as well, Dirthamen’s voice echoes in her mind.

“I have lain claim to it, by right of possession,” Olwyndeclares. “I was the one who argued against this injustice, and so I shallright it.”

“Do not overstep,” Elgar’nan warns, flames licking againsthis skin.

“Perhaps my eldest sister is right,” Sylaise puts in,startling them all as she smiles placidly. “Fen’Sulahn spoke against Glory’simprisonment as ardently as I myself did. Now that Glory has fallen, and she isin possession of the remains, she should be allowed to keep them.”

Olwyn locks eyes with her youngest sibling, and nods.Sylaise will expect some reward, for this, as will June, who will side with hiswife if it comes to a vote. Likely Sylaise has decided on some boon already. ButOlwyn will take what she can, even if she does not remember her sister being nearly as distraught over Glory’scapture as herself.

Andruil lets out a dark laugh and leans back in her chair, “Doyou have a spirit tucked away for your new playtoy, sister, or should I organize ahunt?”

Falon’Din slams his fist against the table, and a fissuresplits it down the middle. Elgar’nan roars at him for losing his temper, as theothers brush rock shards and dust from their robes. Sylaise complains over thestate of her dress, and Andruil scoffs, rolling a small corner under her boot. Olwynlifts a hand, and hears Saethil grumble something under her breath as sheslides her blades back into their sheathes.

“Glory belongs to me,” Falon’Din hisses.

“Glory is dead because of you,” Olwyn snarls back.

“YOU WILL ALL BE SILENT!” Elgar’nan shouts, voice echoing asflames crawl up the walls.

“I think,” Mythal intervenes, voice low and calm, “That weare all weary from our war and our journey here. I have missed not seeing mychildren outside of battle. It pains me to see you all argue.”

Olwyn deflates, mollified, and most of her siblings followsuit. Elgar’nan is still alight, and Falon’Din’s glare cuts through Olwyn likea knife, but Falon’Din does not speak again, and Elgar’nan finally sits backdown.

Mythal looks to Olwyn, and there is something in her eyesthat Olwyn cannot quite place. It is…not a pleasant feeling. Then she nods, “Ibelieve it would be best, if Fen’Sulahn is given the construct, for her valoron the battlefield. I am certain she can prove herself worthy of the honor, asshe has declared she feels more than fit to do so.”

It feels almost like a threat, but certainly that is notcorrect. A lesson, surely. If Olwyn is to claim she can take care of Glory’sbody better than Falon’Din, she will have to prove it so.

Any mishap it causes will be used against her—to teach her that she was too proud andsure of herself when she should not have been.

“I think we have spoken enough, today. Let us all retire,and return tomorrow.” Mythal instructs, dismissing them. She stands, andthey all follow suit.

“Good luck, big sister,” Andruil smirks, as she pats her onthe back before leaving. Sylaise nods, before she and June disappear through anearby eluvian with their entourage.

Olwyn watches as the others leave, until only Falon’Din andDirthamen remain.

“Well will speak of this,” Falon’Din orders, grabbing herarm. Saethil’s blades come free, and Falon’Din’s Woe follows suit, eyesnarrowed.

“Let us speak, then.” Olwyn agrees, pulling out of his grasp and gesturing toward theeluvian behind them. Dirthamen appears to her left, with Disquiet eyeing theproceedings silently.

“I will come as well,” Dirthamen decides.

“Remain here, Saethil,” Olwyn orders, and Saethil frowns butnods, stepping back to stand to the right of the eluvian. Falon’Din stormsthrough it, and Olwyn and Dirthamen follow. Olwyn half expects him to strikeher the moment she crosses the threshold, but her brother is pacing inside thelarge chamber when the light fades from her eyes.

The moment she and Dirthamen are through, he seals theeluvian off, and Olwyn tenses.

“Dirthamen said you would apologize when the war was overand instead you have betrayed me!”Falon’Din growls, turning toward her.

Olwyn shakes her head, “I have betrayed no one. And I wasnot going to apologize when I did nothing wrong.”

“You were angry over something trivial, and you have made amess of it. You always do. You always find some way to ruin things,” Falon’Dinbites back, “You think you know what to do but you just make things worse.”

Olwyn swallows. Beangry. It is better than letting him know he’s hurt you. “We would not behaving this argument if you hadn’t forced Glory into a body against its will.”

“Do not say it,” Dirthamen pleads, looking to Falon’Din.

But Falon’Din flings his next words at Olwyn like awell-placed arrow.

“Mother always thought you were a threat,” Falon’Din hisses.“She wanted to shatter you. She would have, if Longing and I had not stoppedher.”

Olwyn goes cold.

No. No that is a lie.

Mythal is her mother. She loves her. And she neededdetermination to build the empire, and become a proper leader. She told her this.

“You are lying,” She chokes out, but even as she says it,something clicks into place that can’t be undone and the look Mythal gave her at the meeting sticks inher mind. The air around her churns violently, and Falon’Din loses a bit of hisrage as he notices it. Almost guilty. Almost.

Dirthamen reaches for her, “He did not mean it. He is sorry.”

“I am..” Falon’Din huffs, “I have done nothing wrong.”

And even if his words somehow lack conviction, the damagehas already been done.

“You have always been spiteful, brother. But you have neverbeen this cruel to me,” Olwyn bites out, before she unseals the eluvian andsteps through it.

---

Woooooo that was a doozy to write. And so begin’s Olwyn’s doubts that will lead to rebellion, far in the future. She’ll be in denial for quite a while longer, but the seeds have been planted.

#fen'sulahn au #fen'sulahn #filled prompt #owyn #glory #falon'din #dirthamen #Anonymous

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