Chapter Text
Princess Amira is dead. She died 12 years ago at the age of 6 crying on the forest floor, clutching a bundle of Farah lilies in her small fists as she waited for her father to come get her. Because he would come for her, he would never leave her behind. This is what she told herself as she stared at the tree line ignoring the flowers as they wrapped their slim green vines around her arms and ankles gently doing their best to soothe her. After days that turned to weeks Princess Amira, Daughter of King Lyinol and Queen Farah died. She gently removed the vines from her limbs, wiped her face with her dirty dress and did not think too hard about not being hungry or tired. She simply turned to see Arbor sitting in a tree, watching her. She has lived in the forest ever since.
And so, Amara, former daughter of the king and child of the forest, sat in a clearing near the center of the woods 12 years later. Her carmine red hair was loose from its normal high ponytail and floated close to her round face; brushing lightly against her light brown cheeks. Her mismatched eyes, the left cerulean blue the other only a shade lighter than her hair, were trained on the quivering canopy of trees above her. She could feel the tension in the air, something was happening.
At first, she ignored the buzzing trees. All it meant was that Arbor was throwing a tantrum and she had every intention of letting the forest god burn himself out. But then she felt it, a heat at the base of her spine slowly traveling upward. Magic, the kind that came from blood soaking into the forest floor. Amara frowned.
“ARBOR!” she called floating upward, legs still in criss cross position. Straightening them only after she reached the height of one of the first branches. Suddenly, the trees froze, the heat pulsed faintly but began to wane. The tension she had felt moments before dissipated almost immediately. Her uncle did not respond but she could sense his presence getting closer, so she waited. A small fairy flew up to her from a nearby bush, kissing her cheek before settling into her hair. Amara smiled.
“Yes?” The girl was not startled at the sound of Arbor’s voice. She turned to face him, taking in every non-verbal queue she had spent the last 12 years learning and reacting to. Anyone else would have seen an inscrutable expression and an indifferent stance but Amara knew better.
“What happened?” she asked finally. Arbor avoided her gaze. The girl folded her arms and Arbor’s expression shifted, from composed to petulant and Amara knew he would lie before he even spoke the words.
“There was a breach near the north, and I took care of it” He folded his arms, “that is all you need to know '' he added. Dragging his eyes back to hers, entering himself into a silent test of wills. Arbor rolled his lips into a thin determined line while Amara’s did not shift. For all his ancient patience Arbor could never keep a secret for long. The forest spirit sighed dramatically and fell back floating a little higher so that he could float on his back. From upside down he made eye contact with his niece once more and spoke.
“I did not lie.”
“You did not tell the whole truth, and that is as good as lying” Amara narrowed her eyes. “You promised not to keep things from me.” she lifted her head glaring down her nose. “Are you going back on your word?” Arbor’s gaze sharpened at this. Turning in the air, he sat in a crisscross position.
“I would not, you know I would not.” he said, hurt at the mere implication bleeding into his voice. It was moments like this that Amara forgot they were not something more like siblings, she relaxed her shoulders.
“What happened?” she asked again, voice softer than before. Arbor took a deep breath.
“Your sister decided to pay me a visit, and demand I leave the farm animals alone. She was terribly angry.” the words spoken like a dangerous secret. His eyes watched her for the smallest reaction to the news of Elizabeth. Amara stiffened; she had not seen her sister in 12 years but the pang in her chest felt as though they had been torn apart only days ago.
“What did you do?” she asked, fighting to keep the panic from her voice. Arbor blinked slowly.
“Nothing that won’t heal.”
“What were you going to do?” she asked, remembering the warmth in her spine. Arbor’s gaze turned distant before he replied.
“I had forgotten how much she looked like him” His tone softened in a way that only happened when he spoke of the king. “At first I thought it was him, finally come to take you back.” Amara frowned. Her father had not come for her all those years ago she doubted he would now.
“As for your dear Elizabeth she had enough magic in her blood that she could have kept our forest alive for decades.” Amara flinched.
“You were going to kill her?” Arbor’s gaze zeroed back in on her, all the words he would not say were there. Elizabeth would not have died; her fate would have been so much worse. Hidden under the earth, kept alive by the magic and slowly drained over the course of a few decades. But that was not what he said. Instead he lied and this time Amara let him.
“Yes, I would have if you had not called for me.” Amara wished she felt anything other than annoyance at those words.
“You weren’t going to tell me she was here.” Arbor considered Amara for a long moment before he spoke again.
“What would you have done if I'd called for you?” He relaxed now, floating on his stomach, chin propped on his palms, head tilted slightly. “Who would you have helped kill the other?” Amara scowled.
“Are you questioning my loyalty?”
“This is not a question of loyalty.”
“No one needed to have died. Death and violence are not always the answer.”
“That is not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” she was nearly yelling now. Arbor grew serious, the light in his eyes that suggested teasing vanished as he asked his next question.
“Who would you have chosen?” Amara did not answer, her hands became fists and wisps of ivy began to creep up from the ground. The two floated uncomfortably in the silence of her indecision every second that passed, proving Arbor’s point. His voice held no malice when he spoke again.
“I didn’t want you to have to make that choice, I know what it is to murder blood and I would not have you burdened by the same sins.” Amara closed her eyes. Arbor so often avoided the mention of what happened between him and his sister that it was always a shock when the topic arose. Old feelings of anger and resentment began to bubble to the surface. Who was he to decide what she could do and what had to be done on her behalf? She opened her eyes.
“That was not up to you to decide.” she bit back. Arbor frowned.
“Yes, it was. You are my ward; your wellbeing is my responsibility”
“When have you ever acted out of regard for my well being?” Amara’s voice dripped with venom.
“Amara-” She cut him off, not wanting to be fed any honeyed excuses.
“I am not a child anymore, I can make my own choices.”
“You are hardly 18 years old, what choices will you make that will not end in disaster?” He raised one green eyebrow. The anger bubbled over. Poison ivy shot from the ground winding around the nearest trees.
“You have no right to talk about my choices when the ones you made are still hanging over us both.” The trees froze. The shock at her statement echoing through the clearing as all things connected to him stopped. She turned away from the hurt in his eyes and stalked deeper into the woods. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment at her outburst, she floated higher, placing herself in a tree allowing herself to sulk on her own.
The sun reached its highest point overhead before Arbor appeared again.
“Do you want me to apologize?” he asked, settling himself on the branch beside her. Amara huffed a rueful puff of laughter before turning toward him.
“I do not know Arbor, are you sorry?”
“We both know that I do not regret my actions.” The anger she had spent the last few hours taming reared its head.
“I do not mean your actions I meant your words”
“You are young, and I will not put you in a situation where neither choice you make will allow you to rest easily.” Amara scowled.
“Then why are you here?” she snapped.
“Because I do not like when you are upset with me.” he muttered. Amara sighed. “And I do not like to be alone." After a long pause she spoke again.
“You could have called for me,” she whispered. “We could have solved things without violence, and I could have seen her again. It has been so long, and I miss her very much.” more silence. “Do...do you miss your sister?” she asked quietly, drawing her knees up to her chest feeling very much like that lost little girl she had been all those years ago. Arbor sighed heavily beside her leaning back on the trunk of the tree.
“I do not think I miss Farah herself, but sometimes I miss the early days right after we inherited the forest, but honestly, she was never fond of me. I represented the fact that she was not trusted with her power alone, that she had to be watched.” Arbor held out his hand and a Farah lily dropped into his palm from the canopy above. The flower was a soft pink and covered in dark red freckles for only a moment before it began to rapidly wilt. Arbor held the bloom out to Amara allowing the young demi-god to take it from him.
“And besides, she is not fully gone. She exists in her flowers and prevails through her childish grudges.” he sneered at the blossom. The flower stopped wilting once Amara held it, she lifted it to her mouth and blew on it gently. Ever so slowly the flower came back to life. The fairy in Amara’s hair drifted down and made a bed of the flower’s center quickly dosing back off.
“I wouldn’t say being angry about one’s own murder is childish.” Amara replied, smiling softly at the sleeping fairy.
“She was the one that wanted to fight. It's not my fault she decided to lose.” Arbor’s tone was petulant, but Amara could hear the sadness underneath it. She had seen his face the day of that battle and knew he regretted what had to be done.
“I would have liked to see her.” she said softly.
“I am sorry.”
They sat in comfortable silence for half an hour until the canopy quivered again and Amara could sense the anxiety coming from the entity beside her.
“A petal for your thoughts?” She spoke softly, her head tilted upward as she leaned against the tree, her eyes closed. Arbor grimaced.
“Did you want her to take you back?” The words came out in a rush as if he was fighting with himself to keep them in, Amara’s eyes opened at this. “Is that why you wanted to see her, so you could leave?”
“If I wanted to leave, I would have done so by now. And besides that, it was not the deal. The deal was that I could leave if my father came to get me, and she is not Lyinol. We both know that Lyinol is not coming, therefore I stay here.” She turned her head to find he was already looking at her. Green brows drawn together.
“If she had been here to retrieve you, I would not have barred your path. Even if you wanted to leave without either of them coming for you, you do not have to stay here.” Amara held his gaze. Echoes of her childhood flashed in her mind; she knew exactly how much strength it took for him to say those words.
“I would not leave you to care for the forest on your own and besides this is my home. And for all your flaws you are my family." She smiled at him. She would not do as her mother had done, leaving one entity to manage the entire forest was cruel and damaged the one left behind in ways Amara still did not fully understand. But she knew that Arbor had not always had permanent dark circles under his eyes, that he could not stand to be alone for more than a few hours and that the forest's need for blood sacrifices was not something that was required when her mother was alive. Arbor’s powers were based in tree growth and decomposition, trees and mushrooms. While Farah was alive the two could easily keep things alive and thriving, but alone Arbor required the use of unconventional methods to pick up the slack left by her absence.
The two sat for the rest of the day in that tree enjoying the breeze and each other's company. As the sun began to set Amara voiced the idea she had been mulling over for the last hour.
“What if I visited her?” She didn’t turn to see his face, only waited for his answer.
“You would come back?” he asked.
“Yes”
“I see no problem, but I do have a condition.” Amara turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Do not let Lyinol see you and inform Elizabeth that she is not to tell him.” Amara nodded.
“Okay, I can do that,” she agreed.
“That’s enough lazing about for today.” he floated off the branch. “I'm going to do rounds, I shall see you later.” He nodded toward her and disappeared into the treetops. Amara sat alone for thirty seconds before she gave in and dropped to the ground. She did not want to fly, for this she needed to run.
And so, she did, running until she reached the forest edge. She spotted a weak trail
of daisies leading in the direction of the palace. Her heart was beating faster than it had in a long time, and as she made it a few more feet she realized it was not nerves. She felt different, her body heavier and though she could still fly there was not a fog of magic to aid in her ascent. Her stomach began to ache, and her muscles burned, her breath came harder, and she stopped progressing. She cast a longing gaze at the highest tower sending it a silent promise before she turned. She followed the daisies back to the forest. Collapsing across the tree line. Her breathing evened out and her heart rate steadied.
“I guess this is going to be harder than I thought.”