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The sixth time Caelnir ran through an almost-but-not-quite-identical cascade of notes, Kestrel paused on the magicked tablet Saer Laith had given him, and looked up to stare at his big brother.
(Before he’d gone into the meditation required before taking his oath, Dem had sat with Kes and the tablet, reminiscing about how he’d sat hunched over it for hours at a time when he was learning to read and write, and cheering the boy on as he cussed out the subtle differences between surface elven and drow)
“Cael. It sounds really good, you know.” Kestrel said just before Caelnir launched into a seventh iteration.
“It needs to be perfect.” Cael grumbled, but he stopped at least, to stretch his fingers.
“Why?” Kes scooted around on the bed and pulled Gert into his lap.
“Dem is going to be the best, most amazing paladin the order has ever seen. I know there are still some folks who think he’s not up to it, but they are wrong and i don’t want this offering to the Lady to be…” Cael started, far too quickly, but his words trailed off as he met Kestrel’s golden gaze. “What?”
“Mom used to do that when she was making stuff up on the fly, you know. Start to talk too fast.”
Caelnir’s ears flattened. “That’s..” He stopped again, then laughed softly. “Yeah.”
“Then, why does it matter?”
“Every day. Since before you were born…. I’ve woken up next to him. No matter what our days were like, we’d always eat lunch together, and dinner if we could. And at the end of the day, no matter how stressed out I might be, he’d be there, warm and snoring and… I watched him learn to read, right where you are, with that same annoyed expression when he didn’t copy a character right. And after he takes his oath… he’s going to the Night Above. They need him up there and I.”
Kes clambered over to sit by him. “You’re going to miss him.”
“More than I can say.”
Kes hugged him, but Cael went immediately rigid, and it took Kestrel a moment to realize it was because Zerim had suddenly, silently appeared in the doorway with a look of panic.
Kes never quite understood the dislike Caelnir had for the young paladin. Zerim was handsome and charming, but Kes was enough of a harper-in-training to suss that SOMETHING had happened years ago that Caelnir had never fully forgiven the other man for.
Dem, if asked about it, would simply shrug and change the subject. And none of the elders were ever willing to give a child like Kestrel the gossip.
“Straj, Zerim. What’s wrong with you?” Cael grumped as Kestrel resettled himself.
“I haven’t heard anything. Is he still in meditation? There are people saying the Dancer is going to reject him and…” Zerim strode into the children’s dorm, flapping his hands as he paced.
“He’s still in meditation. The Lady isn’t going to reject him, you know that as well as I do.” Cael’s tone was more exasperated than cruel.
“Why’s it so important to you ?” Kes immediately asked, sensing an opening.
One of Zerim’s perfect white eyebrows inched up his dark, handsome face. “You’re joking, right, kid? We are fighting over who gets him. Literally . That jerk Garahir has been making us compete to see who gets Dem on their squad.”
He stopped, faced with Kestrel’s grim, unforgiving expression.
“What?”
“Why’s it important to *you*?” Kestrel slid off the bed to look up at Zerim, skinny little arms folded.
“Don’t look at me for help.” Caelnir said, gathering up his mandolin. “You’re right, Kes. It’s fine the way it is. How about you go get some lunch with Zerim while I wrap up the rest of the hymn?”
“Wait, hold on, you’re…” Zerim stuttered as Caelnir strode out with his instrument and notes. “Ugh. Fine.” He looked down at Kestrel. “You wanna go get a snack, shortsword?”
“Fine, but you have to tell me why it’s so important you get Dem on your squad. And also why Caelnir doesn’t like you.”
“You are a really nosy kid.”
Kestrel tucked Gert under his arm and trotted behind Zerim’s longer steps. It wouldn’t be long, though, that he’d catch up and grow past him, he thought. The paladin was a full drow, and while being extremely dashing, was also extremely short. “Talk.”
“Fine. When I first came here, I.” Zerim swung his arms, the light chain on his shoulders clinking softly. “I was a jerk. I saw Dem and thought someone like him… “ He paused and looked down at Kestrel. “Someone like you. Was an affront to the Masked Dancer’s mission. Of helping the Underdark and the Drow become better. I was awful to him. And your dad. I mean, Captain El. After Dem kicked my ass in a fight, Elamshim asked me what kind of paladin i was planning to be if i could be cruel to someone who was still a kid. If I couldn’t find a way past my own prejudices to help people different than I was and…” Zerim paused, finding an unremarkable section of wall in the hallway suddenly fascinating. “And I realized I needed to be better. I wanted to be better. And Dem… amazingly, forgave me. And then kicked my ass again.”
“Is that why Cael doesn’t like you?” Kestrel asked. It seemed logical. Both his big brothers were as protective of each other as they were of him. But…
“No. He doesn’t like me because sometimes Dem and I fffffffffff….. Do grownup stuff together.” Zerim’s sudden smile was pained and pasted awkwardly on his face. “Like grownup friends do sometimes. When they’re grownups.”
“You’re kinda dumb, aren’t you.” Kestrel said, marching ahead towards the dining hall.
~~
The next day, they were gathered at the soft-glowing shores of the darklake, paladins and clerics from both the House Above and the House Below forming a ring. All of them in their finest garb, deep twilight hues glimmering in the light of the magelight torches and crystals. An altar of black stone, twinkling with sliver mica, had been set onto the beach, and behind it stood the Marshals and Elders of the orders, looking expectantly as Caelnir led the processional in, the hymn to the lady dancing from his fingers like sparks of magic.
Dem was veiled, his new armour gleaming as he followed Cael with a straight back. Behind him, Garahir carried the two swords that would become his. Dem had already named them for the magic baked into their steel: Howl and Tangle. But the right to bear them, with the Dancer’s mark on their blades, would only come after the Oath.
Kestrel fidgeted with the other children. They were all encouraged to come to all of the ceremonies, to see and rejoice. But everyone’s breath was held. It didn’t happen often but every so often, an Oath failed. The would-be paladin’s resolve wasn’t strong enough. The weight of their obligation would suddenly become all too real. There was no shame, but at the same time…
Kestrel balled his little hands up tightly as Dem approached him. He knew for absolute sure that the fears he sensed in the crowd were unfounded. Moreso, as there was a quick wink behind the veil, a flicker of his luminous eyes just for Kes.
That same ripple of notes that Kes had heard over and over the day before rang out as Dem knelt before the altar and recited both the Oath of the Dancer and the Oath of the Ancients to the elders.
Silence as the last words left his lips, and Kes’s heart clenched. He hadn’t grown up with the Lady like Caelnir and Dem had. What if she DID reject him?
But then he saw it, the sand stirring around his brother’s kneeling form, a light brighter than moonlight, warm and cold and utterly different than anything he’d seen before above or below.
Dem stood, turning his face to the light, and closing his eyes as the glow became solid, a tangle of silken strands enveloping him.
Kes felt the response in his bones more than he heard it, and there were tears in his eyes that he didn’t understand, that were in Caelnir’s eyes as he watched as well. My beloved one . Always. Always.
The swords found their way to Dem’s hands without Garahir ever moving, and he lifted Howl to the top of the great cavern as a roar went up from the gathered crowd.
Later, he’d take the brand to his arm that so many of the paladins carried. Later he would would sit in a sheltered cove with Caelnir and Kestrel one last time before leaving for the surface. But for now, He just slid the swords onto his back and scooped up Caelnir, then Kestrel and swung them around with a whoop.
(This.) Kestrel thought as the others crowded around him, laughing. (This was why it mattered)