Chapter Text
You are children, and children will play. It is spring at last, and Bren is free, for once, pulled away from his books, his lungs strong for now, and you are free, free, free to run and jump and climb through the forest and the fields alike. Later, you will be drafted into work, tilling fields and sowing seeds, you’re big enough now, papa says. Father had agreed, and you’d felt your heart swell in pride, even if it meant less time with your dear friends. You’re starting to become a man.
Time ebbs and flows like magic as you dance, as Sassa and Bren both chatter like the songbirds, giggling any time you toss in an observation. It’s easy to relax, easy to let go, your hands flapping in delight as you and Bren whistle back and forth. They never judge you, never glare, never force you to speak when your throat is tight. The world is covered in flowers, and your heart blooms too, with the promise of a future.
Mama says she’s heard a teacher is coming, someone to help you and all the other children, someone who may be able to unlock your voice, Pelor be willing. A teacher means Bren will have a place, means Sassa can finally get away from her house, means that everything will change for the better. A teacher is a promise. But a teacher is in the future, and right now, you are outside, and you are alive.
Bren grins lopsidedly, as he presents you and Sassa both with flower crowns, kissing your hands and declaring that you are now the king and queen of the Feywild. Your heart swells with joy as you take her hands and dance.
You are children, and children will play.