P.S. 5 – Chapter 45.1

Hardly any metal rang out in the Iceheart rear courtyard, with the knights simply observing the ongoing spar between their leaders. Eirwen understood fully why they did, studying both physical and mana techniques to better their own. She herself didn't need to, but she simply liked watching Red and Aoife work up a sweat while fighting freely.

They too were enjoying it, broad smiles on their faces as they constantly weaved mana together and released it with every swing. It brought back memories to how over two years ago, Eirwen had clashed with him in the former throne room, during that spar that had felt like a dance. Back then she had been jealous at everyone fighting him and had constantly joined back in, desperate to hang onto him.

She still felt that desire, wanting to join in, but her heart was calm. It would be her turn soon, so there was no need to rush. Besides, it was her turn watching the children. Young Senana and Sorcha were both in her lap, holding onto her clothing as they watched the fight. They had already gotten used to the sound of dozens of knights sparring at the same time, so they handled this just fine.

She wondered what was going through the children's heads. It was tempting to try to communicate mentally, but they had no idea what impact that could have, so they refrained. Only occasionally would Red try to find out what was causing a bad crying fit. Just like how they had mostly avoided using flame mana during the pregnancies, unsure if it could cause any of them to end up like Red and his siblings, struggling for control.

Well, at least the children were quiet, simply observing. It let Eirwen do the same, one of her favourite pastimes. Aoife fought with pleasure, shining bright. Eirwen wondered what would have happened to her, had things gone differently, without the war. Would she have kept a torch for Aodhán, or would it have extinguished? Or turned into a wildfire all the same?

At the very least, it would have been unlikely to end up like this, all three of them together, happy and both of them with a daughter. Aoife knew, Eirwen could tell from the occasional uncertain glances. She felt the same. Guilty, knowing their current joy had come at the expense of so many others. But at the same time, after all they had gone through? They deserved some happiness.

And Red, who finally was free. He had shackled himself to her, to them, but he still got to unleash his true ability. Drawing upon the techniques he had kept hidden for two decades. Powers that had caused his mother to call him a monster with what she thought was her dying breath, ruthless words to a six year old child. No wonder then that he had always kept a side of him hidden, even to her. Terrified he'd lose her.

How would that have turned out? Would he ever have dared show her his true nature? She doubted it. Even when he had sworn himself to full sincerity, he still had kept three secrets from her, only revealing them slowly afterwards. In a normal life, she never would have truly known the full nature of the man she loved. Would it have caused a rift eventually?

She was grateful to Lord Giric Ráth  for calling Red a monster in actual admiration. For swearing his allegiance in worship of their abilities, rather than in fear of them. That too only was possible due to how things had gone. The West would still have been divided if it hadn't been for the war. Now, dozens of Lords and Ladies followed Eirwen, their territories far larger combined than the four dukedoms she already commanded.

They aimed their threats not at Flameheart, but at any neighbours that hadn't fallen in line. In time, multiple dukedoms would arise and fall under her authority. Lord Ráth would likely be the first. In the kingdom, he could have been expected to become a Comte, playing the right hand of a replaceable Duke. But he came from a culture of being direct, so he would take that authority himself and prove worthy of it.

As Eirwen looked at Red and Aoife clashing training blades, she smiled. She remembered how in the mountains, he had sung songs in the old western tongue, dozens joining in with him as a choir. The comradery as he shone bright as one of them, unifying soldiers, knights, mercenaries, locals. A bright banner for people to unify behind in her service. The person he never could have been under his father's grasp. How better it was this way.

He too still felt guilt. It had destroyed him when he swore himself to her, knowing he could never truly make amends for the burden he carried. There were still those that hated him, that never would forgive him. And part of him still believed he deserved no happiness. A foolish thought that they banned him from pursuing, though it couldn't fully stop him. But he was here to grant others happiness, and his own merely came as a consequence. That he could accept.

Her rise had caused a ripple effect. Even with the war, without the assassination attempt, would he have gone to butcher the butchers? Hold back Eisenfild with fear? Or would the East have suffered a bloody war with countless innocents slaughtered? If Duke Flameheart and Duchess Verglas had both been alive, would her mother have joined forces with his father, holding back the Western Lieges? They wouldn't have been allowed to conquer. Would Stowingas have smelled weakness? Come to their borders?

Eirwen had no idea. It was impossible to predict how things would have turned out if events had gone different. But despite all the wasted lives, despite the death of her parents, it felt as if in the end, this way was better. That thought hurt. She wished she could have shared her happiness with her parents, but without their deaths, perhaps that happiness would have been far less.

At least they still had people. Seren and Bethan spent a lot of their time supporting them. Róisín too could easily be mistaken for a proud grandmother, the way she doted on the little ones, barely managing to keep her emotions off her face. And Eirwen had arranged for one last surprise. One that Red could have already seen coming if he had desired so, but he kept his senses focused on the courtyard. They were still careful, but they trusted each other and their knights. Day by day, their desire for a paranoid surveillance lessened.

Feeling the children get restless, Eirwen began nursing them, an indication for the other two to start wrapping up their spar and discuss their techniques instead. When the children were fed, she mentally gave a sign to send in their visitors. Her spouses both caught on, sending her curious glances as they neared. And when the visitors came into sight, it was visible on Red's face, instant turmoil that he pushed aside to land on joy.

He arrived in front of Eirwen, holding out his arms to take hold of his daughters, before nodding at the visitors. "Mother. Sister. Brother. Meet Senana and Sorcha."

Eirwen looked at Lady Róisín and nodded. It was okay. Instantly, a single tear broke through, before the majordoma's emotional control took hold of her again. With a smile, she greeted the people she too had never expected to meet again. Truth be told, even Eirwen hadn't been sure if they'd answer her request. But with her position as Archduchess, there no longer was a need to hide the remaining Flamehearts. None could use them to undermine her authority.

She grabbed a cheap sword and shield, supplied by smiths that were fed up with their masterpieces being torn apart in violent spars. A look back at the bench where she had been sitting, next to newly planted bushes, where Red now sat with his daughters, a warm smile on his face as he conversed with his family. The woman that had raised him, the woman that couldn't, and the siblings that had always remembered him as a monster, but now could get to know his loving side.

With a grin, Eirwen took position up against Aoife. "Fy Anwylyd. Let us exercise properly. I have grown incredibly restless in recent days."

Aoife grinned in turn, a touch malicious as she understood Eirwen's intentions. To show their visitors that it wasn't just Red who was a monster in his own right. "Very well, Fy Nghariad Gwyn. Let's let loose a little."

Both of them called upon ambient mana, swirling it into their hearts, which then sent the mana through their veins into the entirety of their bodies. As they launched themselves at the other, swords and shields clashing with heavy force. Where Red and Aoife had practically danced in their earlier spar, Eirwen and Aoife were fighting like beasts.

The small part of Eirwen's senses that she kept focused on their lover, showed the grin on his face while their daughters looked on, their attention entirely claimed by the fight. Red's family looked on in shock, while the wind picked up and made their hair dance. The knights already were used to it and returned to their own spars, focusing on keeping their mana functioning within the storm.

Within Eirwen's chest, her mana heart pulsed alongside her heartbeat, the draw of power almost intoxicating. Knowing what to look for, she could sense the same in Aoife's chest, while both picked up their tempo. Red almost never fought at full speed, still used to making himself come across as inevitable. Only in despair did he ever let himself loose like an arrow on a drawstring. But in this spar, they showed everyone exactly how things could also be.

Within his own chest, his own mana crystal beat gently, only the smallest fluctuation betraying his desire to join them. But it was his turn with the children, so he would have to wait. That was the deal they had made, to always have one of them hang back. To build a better future together. Until theday came that they could pass on their authority. But that day was still far away. Fate has forced a heavy burden upon them. Their children should get the time to find their own way.

She was done worrying about the past. About paths not taken, doorways closed before them. Her senses had withdrawn, but her sight had expanded. She had a realm to build, so that they could live wonderful lives together. So that those they still had, could never be used against them. And so that her beloved, one of them watching with a smile, the other laughing like her as they clashed time and time again, would be able to forgive themselves. With frozen hearts recovering from the ice they had endured.

Oh she loved them dearly so. And with their every heartbeat, connected to her own through the mana hearts they shared, she knew they loved her too. Three Monsters of the West, together until the end of their days.