Chapter Text
“They won’t know who we are, so we both can pretend it’s written on the mountains, a line that never ends.”
-
Her practiced hands carefully measured out the liquid light blue into the soft crystal vial, the biting odor lingering at the tip of her nose.
The small makeshift room, dubbed her sanctuary years ago, was littered with the glowing remnants of long forgotten chemical experiments. Thickly spined books lay open, their wrinkled pages and marked passages proving their value, with rows of keenly matured plantlife accompanying them. Riva liked to keep her strategically messy preserve as warmly humid as possible in the Lucian climate, so she installed herself a small water system using old pipes and miscellaneous buckets of water, which were haphazardly set about. She couldn’t say she was an engineer.
Her love for herbology wasn’t a random component of her character: it developed slowly, and was nurtured by her mentors. Funny events happen when one has a grove of Gadoba elder trees for teachers. She could still hear the melodious voice of Father Alba praising her for her sharp intellect.
Riva thought of her girlhood often, though not out of remorse or recompense. She simply missed the times when she was left to her own devices, free to roam her father’s city and relish in good company.
Focused, she pushed her cladded googles back over her eyes. Taking careful breaths, she watched as the liquid cascaded into it’s place on the cooling rack. Her ancestors were elves of medicine and science, that much she understood. Riva, in turn, was an elf of non-lucrative aid. She knew her skills stemmed from her heritage.
When the townspeople -her townspeople- needed a remedy, they lost no time in hurrying to her enclosure, desperate to seek out a cure; and Riva blithely provided them with any medical concoction she could conjure up.
Her extensive years of training in the arts of alchemy provided her with the proficiency necessary to mix together herbs and chemicals with ease.
The main source of her occasional groaning, however, was the long trek to the Nobuo mountains (a route that she had practically memorized) in order to retrieve rare horticulture like bruxxa nexus and kingling spruce, both standard remedies for the common Aphrixia cold.
Living underground had its qualms. But a voice not unlike the one of her father chidded her selfishness every time: A true leader would go through great lengths to keep the innocent safe and secure, wouldn’t you agree, Riva?
Certain she had measured out the liquid properly, she carried her vials of freshly made cough syrup to a nearly full wooden cabinet. The syrup joined rows upon rows of medicine jars and herbs stuffed in glass containers, all labeled with parchment paper lined in pine sap.
Her work in her laboratory needed to come to a close, as she had a badly timed meeting with the prince, who had said previously that he needed to discuss something urgent. The level of urgency was unknown, though she knew it had to involve Emily somehow– their talks always seemed to highlight Trellis’ worry for her. Riva still could not convince herself that Emily, a young human girl, was the gilded key to bringing the war to a close. What did she have that none on Alledia had already? Only the Ancients could say, and for all it was worth, she trusted in them.
The stonekeeper business was a confusing notion to her ears, so she strayed from asking too many questions. After all, the fiery young stonekeeper held an immense pressure on her shoulders, and Riva felt a sympathy for her that was reserved for those especially in need of it.
She did value their determinations to meet their destinies- both Emily and Trellis. Ending the clash of the nations of Alledia would not be an easy task.
After the raid of the dark scouts, the people of Lucien carried worry in their wearied eyes. The war was brewing in all corners of Alledia, with the hopeful stirrings of the Resistance, as well as the passion of hundreds of townspeople-turned-soldiers overnight. Riva was impressed that many were willing to put their lives at stake, but the terror only grew as people rose up. Resources became limited, safety slowly became a luxury, tensions heightened, and Riva found herself caught in the middle.
That was her undertaking as a leader, she supposed, a core concept she understood only recently.
Her general premonitions around the root of the war were not pleasant, either. She couldn’t help but feel torn between her ancestry of elves and her duty to Lucien… No doubt Trellis felt the same as an elf prince and stonekeeper.
She had felt the snarling sting of war before. Her father left Valcor for the very reason of thriving, as far away from the corruption of the elf kingdom as possible. He often reminded her as they went about their routine village checks that she would never have to face the reality of living in such a deceitful place; she was lucky enough to be born on the outskirts.
Her juvenile self asked many questions about where they came from, and the quandaries were not uninvited. Her parents were met with the decision of leaving their homeland, and as they chose to flee, their reputations as lowly eleven citizens were stripped. They became enemies of state, as did many others. As outsiders, gazing upon a world in which they were tentatively welcome, if welcome at all, they rebuilt their lives.
Riva fondly recalled the inscription her father had carved on the stone threshold walls of the Ash residence, her childhood home:
-tenitrep douq euqsumegiv-
-We thrive because we care-
She wore that old Elfish saying on her heart like a rune, for nothing but a reminder.
As Riva closed the padlock to her dwelling, she was met with the all too familiar smell of salty water from the canals. Though her father was objectively gone, his legacy continued to live in the copper rusted canals of the city, though now small and wildly divergent from what it once was.
In passing the swarms of townspeople and travelers alike, she kept her countenance friendly. As she continued to move along the cobalt colored gravel, she recognized Prince Trellis immediately. He was standing near the gondola ports, the paleness of his face more noticeable from when they last had seen each other.
Riva tried to search the prince’s features for a sign of how he was feeling; sadly, he was a challenging person to read on an emotional level.
To no avail, she lifted her head in a greeting gesture.
“Riva.” His gaze quickly traveled to her dirt stained vest and her fistful of undergrowth. “What.. is that?”
It was almost comical. He was a prince, she should have known better than to arrive in such informal wear. He did interrupt her work after all…
“Oh, this? Suep pine, for an herbal tea. I found a branch on the way here. A gift from above, it doesn’t usually grow down here.” Trellis only nodded, conveying plainly that he did not share her excitement.
“Speaking of down here… what are you doing on this side of Alledia? I assumed that you would be with the other stonekeepers.”
The prince hunched his shoulders in an instantaneous motion, one Riva was not expecting. “I was. I left because there’s been a new development… I only came here for a time to check on my people.”
The refugees. The fulfillment of Father Charles’ prophecy. It wasn’t so long ago after all; her mind was making up strange illusions.
“I can assure you they have been well taken care of. We may have limited technology underground, but we are capable of providing them with sufficient care.”
“I knew that. I just felt I needed to be here.”
“And…” Riva quipped, “I’m also assuming I can’t be told of this ’new development’ you are dealing with?”
In a frenzied side glance, Trellis looked uncomfortably taken aback. “Well, actually, that was one of the urgencies I wanted to discuss. It will take some time, and I hope I am not intruding on anything important. I know you are always occupied with one thing or another…”
“It’s no trouble. Why don’t we find a place to talk where there is less noise?”
They walked side by side through the crowd, with many stopping to grovel at the prince. He was probably accustomed to being the center of attention when he transpired among small towns.
Riva’s senses were so acutely aware of finding a place of solace that she almost didn’t hear Trellis’ voice.
“Do people ever lose trust in your abilities because you are an elf?” Seeing her eyebrows raise, Trellis added, “I mean it respectfully.”
Riva only smiled; a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“We do what we can. I’m not ashamed my parents were immigrants from Gulfen… Valcorian nonetheless. Most imply that I should, in some twisted way. I’ve never let it bother me– and neither should you, Trellis. You lead your people the best you can; no one can possibly ask for more.”
Trellis took some silence to take in her words.
“I simply asked because there seems to be less and less of our kind that emerge freely. Most are either in hiding or…”
Riva finished his sentence in her mind. In the Elf King's army.
“You and I aren’t so different.” They both stopped traipsing through the masses, and instead met each other’s eyes in a moment of connection.
“I hope you know. I hope you know that this has been a difficult river to swim through. But you have those who are on your side.”
The prince didn’t verbally respond, though Riva knew he usually kept his sentiments to himself. Something she said must have stuck with him, however, as he seemed to have reduced his stiffened concern.
“Let’s head back to my laboratory, shall we? If it is alright with you, there is something I want to show you.”