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She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she doesn’t look like him much anymore.
It’s funny how that happens.
One day she’s a little girl with sharp angles and curls the color of ravens’ wings and a face that gets so dark and serious- and then she’s this tall, willowy thing with soft curves and doe eyes and sun-lightened hair that falls in waves to the small of her back.
And freckles, gods, Keyleth could spend hours counting the freckles that paint her daughter’s cheeks.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and already catching up to Keyleth in height, but still manages to curl up in her lap on the rocking chair by the fire. Doesn’t ask for lullabies anymore, but for stories of dragons and adventure. Makes Keyleth tell them so many times over that she could probably tell them herself if she wanted to.
She asks for them in the garden too with her head in Keyleth’s lap as they sit together and watch the sunset over the cliffs of Zephrah. Listens with flames in her golden eyes as the sky turns shades of red, and pink, and orange above them.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and when they walk together in town the people can’t help but comment that she’s Keyleth’s spitting image. Her shadow. Her twin.
Calliope hides her face against Keyleth’s shoulder- all embarrassed and indignant- but it’s just an act. She still slips into Keyleth’s office to put on her mantle and circlet once Keyleth has taken them off for the night. Tries to sneak, but she’s not as sneaky as him.
Keyleth watches through the door- just barely cracked -as Calliope stands in front of the mirror and turns this way and that. Rolls her shoulders back, puffs out her chest. Admires her reflection as the moonlight shines through the window and catches her eye just so…
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and sometimes Keyleth still can’t breathe when she thinks about raven feathers and golden threads and wings.
Sometimes proposes spontaneous trips to Whitestone to visit her aunt and cousins. Stays with Vex while Gwen entertains Calliope. Paces and panics, because what if-
“She can’t take her, Keyleth,” Vex tells her every time. Patient at first, then not quite as much, “that’s your girl. No one is going to take her.”
But…
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and what Keyleth doesn’t tell Vex is that sometimes she still climbs into her bed late at night shaking and crying because she’s had a nightmare again.
The same nightmare again.
The same nightmare she’s had since she was five years old and the black, feathered wings sprouted from her back for the first time.
“I turn into a raven…”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she has the words to describe it now as she whimpers in Keyleth’s arms,
“I turn into a raven, and I hear Daddy calling me from the raven tree so I try to fly to him, but when I get there he’s not there. There’s a woman sitting under the tree in these weird black cloaks so I can’t see her face or anything. But I feel like I need to wait there for Daddy…”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and he’s not home enough.
For their protection, he says. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.
And Calliope still runs to him every time. Still beams when he swoops her up and spins her around. Seems to forget the moment he’s there that she’s spent the past two weeks asking after him.
All is forgiven when her Daddy is home. Keyleth wishes she had her daughter’s resilience.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and—
“I feel like I need to wait there for Daddy, so I perch really high in the tree away from the woman. But then… I hear you scream. And I’m not thinking, I swoop down so I can fly to you, and the woman jumps up and catches me in a net.
“I try to get out, but it’s a magic net. It’s gold, and glowing, and I can’t break through it and she’s laughing at me. And then I see you run up and you’re yelling at her to give me back, but she tells you she can’t and you know why.
And then I wake up.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she never takes to wildshaping. Gets too nervous when she’s out of her own body. She tells Keyleth once that she feels like something could trap her when she’s an animal, and Keyleth doesn’t make her try again.
And she doesn’t jump from cliff faces into swimming holes. Doesn’t climb trees too high. Won’t even jump the few stairs from the porch to the path, because she doesn’t like being airborne.
She doesn’t need to say that she’s afraid of the wings coming back. Keyleth knows.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and in bed already the night he comes back too late and too serious. Sneaks directly into their bedroom and nearly gives Keyleth a heart attack.
He’s been gone longer than normal this time. Nearly a month, and Calliope has cried about it twice already. Keyleth has every intention of telling him so- every intention of telling him how their daughter bawled for him the day she broke her wrist and wanted her Daddy to hold her while Keyleth healed it -but he looks up at her and there’s something in his face…
And she knows, but she doesn’t want to…
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and-
“She’s back, isn’t she?”
He only nods.
“Where?”
“Issylra.”
“Is that where you’ve been?”
The silence is deafening.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth knows this look from him. Skips straight to the point, because she can’t bear to hear him say that he’s-
“How long?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“How long?”
“I said, it’s not that-“
“How long are you leaving us for, Vax?! How long are you leaving your-“
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth just barely hears her quiet crying outside the door as her anger at him boils over.
He doesn’t hear it.
“I don’t want to leave her, Keyleth. I don’t want to leave either of you. I’m doing this to-“
“Protect us?”
“You know that I am.”
“Do I?”
“I made a pact Keyleth. I can’t just-“
“Why? Why can’t you!?”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth, because he still doesn’t know she’s there, and-
“You’re so fucking worried all the time about her taking Calliope from you. Let’s not give her a reason to.”
Her footsteps race away.
He hears them now, and all the color in his face drains. And Keyleth may be shocked still, but he’s not and in a flash he’s out the door and following after her.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth hears her from down the hallway screaming at him, but she can’t bring herself to move.
“Get away from me! Get out of here!”
“Calliope, please, I’m sorry. I can explain-“
“Get AWAY!”
“It’s me little bird, it’s Daddy. Please-“
“Don’t call me that! I’m not your little bird, you can’t take me!”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth wants to go to her, but her feet feel glued to the ground and she can’t stop crying and she can’t breathe.
And they’re fighting, still. Calliope is still screaming at her father, her voice wavering,
“Leave us alone! We don’t need you!”
“I know you’re upset, but-“
“DON’T TOUCH ME!”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she lets out a bloodcurdling shriek that Keyleth has only ever heard her make once before.
Once, when she was five years old and got brave and decided to jump into the swimming hole.
Her feet unstick from the ground, and she’s running into the hallway to join them because Calliope keeps shrieking, and she’s knelt on the ground in front of her bedroom door clawing at her back.
At the black raven feathered wings that have appeared.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth shoves past him to get to her. Slides the last couple of inches on her knees and feels them scrape against the hardwood and doesn’t care. Takes Calliope’s face in her hands and tilts it up to look at her, and her eyes glow so golden and bright it hurts to make eye contact.
But she does, and she holds it as Calliope wails and clings to her arms and digs her nails in hard.
“I’m here,” Keyleth says softly, her own voice sounding broken and terrified, “I have you, Calliope. No one will take you from me. I won’t let them- we won’t let them. I promise.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and the wings fall away in a torrent of feathers that fade to nothing as they hit the ground. The intense glow of her eyes dulls. She collapses into Keyleth’s arms, bawling and gasping for air.
“I should go,” he says quietly. Keyleth glances over her shoulder, sees him backed away and leaning against the wall. His face marred with pure devastation.
She feels Calliope nod against her chest.
“Wait-“
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she has Keyleth’s arms pinned to her side so she can’t even reach for him as he’s backing away.
“I love you,” he says, loud enough for Calliope to hear over her crying, “both of you, so much. More than anything in the world. I never meant to hurt you.”
Then he’s gone, ducked into the shadows and out of sight and even if Keyleth could shake Calliope off she’s sure she couldn’t catch him before he-
So she tucks her face into Calliope’s shoulder and cries. Bawls with the same painful abandon her daughter does. Can’t find it in herself to be strong for her right now, because her head is spinning and her chest feels like it’s being squeezed and if she doesn’t cry she’ll scream, and that will be worse.
Neither of them stop until the sun comes up.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she doesn’t sleep in her own bed anymore. Refuses to go to school. Refuses to let Keyleth out of her sight for more than ten minutes at a time. Refuses to talk about it. Refuses to talk about him.
Refuses to go to Whitestone, no matter how Keyleth pleads. Doesn't want to see her aunt, because she looks like him, and might be in contact with him, and she doesn’t want him knowing anything about her.
It’s only when she’s asleep that Keyleth pulls out the stone tucked in her bedside table. Speaks softly into it that she’s sorry for how things happened. That she misses him.
He never replies.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and one night she’s sitting on Keyleth’s bed while Keyleth brushes her hair out after a bath, when she tilts her head back to look at her with a very serious expression.
“Mom,” she begins (because she doesn’t call her Mummy anymore. Doesn’t want his accent), “how long will I live?”
Keyleth is so startled she nearly drops the brush. Hadn’t been expecting-
“There’s no way to tell, is there? None of us ever know how long we’re going to live…”
Which is true, but not what Calliope is asking, and she knows that, but what she’s asking is…
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and her eyebrows furrow, and she still sort of looks like him when she does that.
“I mean, how long will I live if nothing terrible happens and I just die of old age?”
It’s funny, because Keyleth asked that before too. In the beginning, when they were trying to figure out exactly what and who she was. And they were told by the priestesses in Vasselheim that she should live as long as any half-elf would. Which had been a relief, sort of.
“You’ll live a good, long time,” Keyleth deflects.
Because she can tell from the look in Calliope’s eye that it’s not the answer she wants to hear.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and—
“But not as long as you?”
And it’s exactly what Keyleth was afraid she might ask.
She sets the brush aside, wrapping Calliope in her arms,
“No, sweetie, not as long as me.”
“But… could I?”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth’s heart stops, and how is she supposed to answer-
“There are ways, aren’t there?” Calliope continues. And she sounds calm, and even. Like she already knows…
“There are, but they’re… complicated. And why would you want-“
“Because then she can never take me away from you.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth drops her head to rest against her hair and cries. It feels like all the air has been punched out of her lungs. She wasn’t expecting-
Calliope squeezes Keyleth’s arms where they’re wrapped around her,
“Don’t cry Mommy,” she pleads, her own voice wavering, “No one’s taking me away. Not ever.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and the first thing she wildshapes into is a cat with patterns like a tiger. It takes a little longer before she manages a real tiger, but when she does Keyleth joins her.
They stalk through the forest and wrestle in flower beds. Minxie and her little shadow, her little cub, her twin.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she’s started going to school again, wants to prepare for-
But she still doesn’t sleep in her own bed. Still hates to let Keyleth out of her sight when she’s home. Still won’t go to Whitestone.
And even as she learns to wildshape into all sorts of beasts- things that can climb, and crawl, and swim, and sprint -she never turns to anything with wings.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and he hasn’t been home in six months.
Hasn’t replied on the sending stone.
Blocks any attempts at scrying.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she doesn’t ask about him. Doesn’t mention him. Doesn’t give any indication she’s thinking of him at all—
Until the morning two days before her birthday when they’re sitting at the breakfast table and she looks up out of nowhere and asks if they can go to Whitestone.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and the moment they walk through the Sun Tree she collapses into Vex’s arms the same way Keyleth has done so many times before. Bawls into her shoulder and whimpers out apologies that Vex and Keyleth soothe away through tears of their own.
They barely hear her ask if Vex has talked to him. If he’s been around.
If Vex can get him to come see them.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and curled up half asleep in Vex’s arms by the fire that night when Keyleth just catches the quiet sound of footsteps in the hallway.
“I’ll be right back.”
Calliope blinks up at her with sleepy eyes, watches her stand to go and doesn’t say anything because she must not have heard, and Vex is stroking her hair so her eyes droop shut again and she gives a little squeaky yawn and that’s that.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth is at the door when Vex’s quiet whisper catches her ear,
“Please, try to understand.”
She glances back over her shoulder, and she knows there’s more Vex wants to say but she points with her eyes to Calliope in her arms and there’s a silent understanding between them that she can’t. Not now.
Keyleth nods- in understanding or agreement she’s not sure -then slips out the door.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and—
“Hi.”
His voice comes like a breath as he stills his pacing feet.
The first thing Keyleth notices is that he’s not wearing the armor.
“Hi.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and her parents stare in silence at each other, a short stretch of hallway between them, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
It’s Keyleth who does, finally. Clears her throat and runs a hand through her hair and asks lamely,
“How have you been?”
And he chuckles, but it’s hollow and sad and the sound of it has tears stinging at Keyleth’s eyes even as she tries desperately to keep them away.
“How do you think?”
He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and—
“You never replied to my messages.”
Keyleth hates that her voice cracks when she says it almost as much as she hates his look of resignation.
“I know.”
“But you got them?”
“I did.”
“So why-“
“I wanted-“
“To protect us?”
“To let you move on.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth can’t hold back a sob because how could they possibly…
She doesn’t think before she moves. Closes the distance between them at a run, as if he’ll disappear again if she doesn’t.
He opens his arms and she falls into them, burying her face in his shoulder to muffle her sobs, pounding a fist against his chest in indignation (and she doesn’t really mean for it to hurt, but she’s not sorry when she hears his quiet ow either).
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and asleep in her aunt’s arms by the fire while in the hallway outside her parents break in each other’s arms.
And Keyleth hates how easy it is to be held by hi- Vax. By Vax. Even after everything that’s happened. Hates how it feels like a weight has been lifted from her chest that’s been crushing it for six months.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against her hair, “Gods I’m so sorry Keyleth.”
And she hates that too.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and all Keyleth can think to say is-
“She’s gotten so tall.”
Vax chuckles,
“Yeah?”
“She’ll be taller than you. She’s as tall as your sister.”
“Maybe she’ll be taller than you.”
“Maybe...”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and—
“I don’t want you to see her.”
He goes still as a statue in her arms, then takes a step back. The look on his face reminds Keyleth of once, many years ago, when she’d called Calliope hers instead of theirs.
“My sister said-“
“She wants to see you, but I don’t want you to see her. Not if you’re going to leave again.”
“Keyleth-“
“I’m her mother, I have to protect her. Even if it’s from you, Vax.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and Keyleth won’t let any more of the hot angry tears out, she won’t, because she told herself she was going to be strong.
It’s clear Vax is steeling himself against it too. Shakes off her embrace, takes another step back, runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
“You’re upset that I tried to let you move on, but now I’m here and you’re upset about that too. You can’t have it both ways, you can’t…”
He gives a groan of frustration, studies her, and there’s something different in his gaze this time. Something Keyleth can’t put her finger on.
“If I told you I was coming back to stay, would you believe me? Would you let me?”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, but Keyleth is struck by this vivid memory of when she wasn’t. Before she was a year old even, when she was small enough that Vax could hold her up with one hand while she curled up on his chest, and he paced the garden to soothe her. Told her stories about all the wonderful things they’d do when she was older. The skills he’d teach her, the places they’d visit. The memories they’d make.
“What are you talking about?”
Keyleth hardly recognizes her own voice asking.
“I can stay. I will stay, if you’ll have me.”
“How long?”
“At least until she’s grown, maybe longer.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and it sounds an awful lot like the promises he made when she was a baby, but there’s something different now. Something in his eyes that Keyleth still can’t place. Something…
“How?”
“The Matron-“
“I don’t want to hear about her.”
“Then you’ll have to take my word for it.”
And that’s all there is to it.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and she doesn’t wake right away when they come into the room.
Vex goes to nudge her, but Vax shakes his head and waves his hands at her to stop. Let him…
And it’s remarkable, Keyleth thinks, how he can still lift Calliope into his arms with hardly any effort. Can stand and sway with her like when she was a baby, even now as her long, long legs dangle.
“Calliope,” he sing-songs quietly, “I’m home.”
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and slowly her eyes blink open, and Keyleth can see her scanning the room to try and make sense of it all. Still sleep hazy, he’s the last place she looks.
“Daddy?”
Her voice cracks, and there’s the glisten of tears in her eyes before she turns into him and begins to sob.
“I’m here. I’ve got you little girl.”
It’s not lost on Keyleth that he doesn’t call her little bird.
She’s thirteen.
Thirteen, and much like she did with Vex earlier she bawls apologies into her father’s shoulder.
Keyleth doesn’t even realize that she herself is crying until Vex tugs her down to sit with her on the couch and pulls her into a much needed embrace.
She watches over Vex’s shoulder as Calliope lifts her head to look Vax seriously in the eye,
“Are you staying?”
He drops a kiss to her forehead.
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world.”
“And after that?”
“After that too.”
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen two days later, laughing under the cherry blossom tree with her friends who have come to celebrate. Bright eyed and freckle faced and tall, she’s so tall.
Keyleth watches from up the earth carved steps a little, chin in her hand and mind wandering.
She watches Calliope show off her new dress from Whitestone to all her friends. Watches Vex and Vax off to the side arguing playfully about something or other. Watches her parents a few steps down from her watching the scene too with their hands interlaced and heads tilted together.
But distracted as she is, Keyleth almost misses the raven that lands next to her.
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and doesn’t look up to see the raven beside her mother shift into a girl about her age.
Dark-haired and pale skinned with eyes like the Ozmit Sea that gaze across the sight of the party below and never turn to the woman at her side.
Keyleth freezes, feeling as if a bucket of ice water has been dumped down her back. Resisting the urge to reach for her staff and blast her off the steps and away, away from—
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and—
“I had a daughter, once,” the stranger who isn’t really says.
Keyleth doesn’t reply.
“Lifetimes ago,” the stranger continues, “I can’t remember her name anymore. Is that awful?”
Keyleth says nothing.
“I should have spent more time with her. I wonder if she ever forgave me.”
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and—
“I hope she did.”
Keyleth isn’t sure why she says it. Isn’t sure why she thinks it aside from the brief flash of an old pain in her heart.
The pain of being left behind by a mother.
The stranger hums,
“I hope so too.”
They’re quiet for a moment then. Quiet watching as Calliope catches Vax’s attention and he grabs her around the waist and spins her around. Watching her turn bright red and shoving him away because her friends are there and he’s so embarrassing.
And it’s something about seeing her push him away that has the words bubbling up in Keyleth’s throat—
“You can’t take-“
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and Keyleth finally turns to her companion just in time to see her shift back into a raven and take flight.
She hears a final parting whisper in her mind,
Cherish her.
As if she didn’t already.
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and when Keyleth squints she can see that she does still look like him. Sort of. Still has the shape of his eyes, the sharp angle to her chin.
Still has his mischievous smile… or maybe picks it back up now that he’s home with them again.
It’s funny how that happens.
Funny how seamlessly he falls back into their lives. As if he’d never been gone at all. As if they can forget the past year…the past thirteen years.
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and she doesn’t have nightmares anymore. Sleeps in her own bed. Goes to school and stays out late in town with friends.
And she doesn’t ask for stories much anymore. Rolls her eyes and reminds them that she’s heard all their stories a million times already. Is such a teenager about it that all they can do is laugh once she’s out of the room, because how did that happen so fast?
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and Keyleth is in the garden one day when a big black raven perches on the swing alongside her.
She waits for a moment, but there’s no shift. Just the two of them sitting together, watching the sky turn shades of red, and pink, and orange above them.
“She’s everything,” Keyleth says finally, breaking the silence, “absolutely everything. I can’t imagine life without her.”
The bird cocks its head, curious.
“I don’t think I’ve ever known a girl as perfect as her… but I guess all mothers must feel like that.”
The bird rustles its feathers. Begins to shift.
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and the feathers drop away, and she’s sitting next to her mother on the swing, rolls her golden eyes.
Keyleth gasps. Opens her mouth to speak, but there aren’t any words to say.
“You’re so cheesy,” Calliope says, barely biting back her smile, “Did you think I was Dad?”
“I’ve never seen you…”
“Turn into a bird?”
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and she scoots closer. Swings her legs up across Keyleth’s lap and rests her head on her shoulder when she pulls her close.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” Calliope says quietly.
“You don’t need to be afraid.”
Not anymore Keyleth adds in her mind. She never told Calliope about… never told Vax about…
“Maybe we can fly together sometime. Me and you and Dad.”
“I’d like that.”
She’s fourteen.
Fourteen, and they rock quietly for awhile.
Then she peeps up,
“Did you mean what you said?”
Keyleth gives a soft chuckle. Drops a kiss to her daughter’s head.
“Every word.”
Calliope hums, thoughtful. Then there’s the mischievous tone back to her voice again,
“Well good, because you’re going to be stuck with me for a long time. Basically forever.”
A raven perches in the tree above them. The raven Keyleth had thought Calliope was, maybe. It has that look in its eye…
But Keyleth turns her gaze down to the girl in her arms.
The girl who looks like her, and like Vax. Who does scary things and isn’t afraid anymore.
She’s fourteen.
She’s everything.
Keyleth murmurs against her hair,
“I can’t wait.”