It came as a surprise to everyone, but word tended to travel fast. Especially with such a devastating loss.
Melody hadn’t thought much of it to begin with, anticipating it to happen sooner or later. But now, thinking about that morning stung; as if someone was taking a knife to her already shattered heart and twisting it deep. It’s funny, She had thought, bitterly. Despite spending the most of their lives fighting to stay alive, it’s still Time that kills everything in the end. Oh, the fickle inevitability of mortality.
It had been a morning like any other, the blissful warmth of the mid-Kythorn sun rising over the valley with a soft breeze whispering through the trees. The gravel of their garden path crunched under her soft leather boots as she walked towards the familiar forest green door, taking a moment to admire the garden, the perfectly kept sunflowers in full bloom and swaying gently in the wind. Pushing open the door, she was met with an unusual stillness, the complete absence of sound filling her with unease.
The small cottage was usually full of life, whether it being soft singing as her father moved around the house or the occasional turning of pages as her papa flicked through an ancient tome of some kind.
Melody made her way up the stairs as quietly as possible, the silence only broken by the creaky third, seventh and twelfth steps, still the same as she remembered as a child. Knocking on the familiar door, and being greeted by more silence, she frowned, knowing at least one of her fathers slept light enough to respond to her familiar knock. A feeling of dread welled in the pit of her stomach as she gently pushed the door open and finally laid eyes on the scene before her.
They were peacefully lying there, in the same position that they always had slept in: holding each other close without an inch of space between them. Even now, in their older years, they were still beautifully yet unapologetically in love.
Melody slowly stepped forward into the room, tentatively moving towards their still forms and took a moment to observe them, finally noticing the ring on her papa’s finger wasn’t glowing the way it usually did when he was near his husband. And then it hit her. They were gone. Slipped away peacefully during the night. Together.
The next few days passed in a blur, too many nameless faces and falsely sympathetic strangers giving her their condolences, passers-by asking how she was, telling her how sorry they were for her loss. The papers caught onto it far too fast too, printing shallow praises and half-truths about their joint lives by sundown of the next day.
The funeral was a short yet busy ceremony, the sheer extent of her fathers’ legacy shown through the seemingly endless crowds that suddenly showed up at the grove, wishing to pay their respects.
The small collection of familiar faces that she had grown up knowing as family stayed close, offering their sympathy in subtle ways: Astarion stood next to her during the service, still looking the same as he always had despite being in his mid six-hundreds and made for a surprisingly comfortable shoulder to cry on; Tavari had held her close the second they’d arrived at the grove, mumbling softly that it was going to be alright. (Melody wasn’t sure if they were reassuring her or themselves- she assumed both); Halsin spoke fondly, almost fatherly of the pair, the impact of the loss of a powerful archdruid and a dear friend clearly affecting him deeply; and Gale, the last one of their travelling companions left, his wizened brown eyes shining with tears behind his long silvery hair and beard.
Only the closest to the family spoke about them genuinely, reminiscing on memories of years past; years of extravagant adventures and simply living, basking in the blessings of Ao. How, despite everything, they defied the hands dealt to them as boys and found each other again. So many stories and tales of their happiness, three centuries worth of two lives well lived.
And by the end of it, they were finally laid to rest together, underneath the large willow tree at the centre of the Grove, alongside the rest of her family: her grandmama and aunty. Immortalised under a stone carved with a final blessing:
Soren and Ozira Ashmane
1450 DR- 1746 DR
1447 DR- 1746 DR
Beloved friends, fathers and lovers
May your music and your light protect this Grove forevermore.
And there they stayed, remembered only by those who regarded them as heroes: marble statues depicting their younger selves in the Gate, the two lovers who, despite all odds, found each other after being torn apart so brutally and proceeded to save the world together.
Two names lost to legend, the subject of bard songs and stories of the past.
Two names, etched into stone.
Soren and Ozira.
Her papa and her father.
Her Father, with his effortless charisma and gorgeous red hair; who’s violin playing could entice thousands; who sang her to sleep every night as a young girl; who held her so close to protect her from the scariness of the world; who’d insist on cooking them all pancakes every morning to give them energy for their various activities; who took her hands and taught her to play the violin from a very early age, chuckling softly when she couldn’t quite get it right. The man who gave her striking green eyes, a sharpened tongue and an undeniable stubbornness.
Her Papa, an intrepid leader, as sharp and dangerous as the claws and feathers that dwelled beneath his skin and the wild natural magic running freely through his veins. Yet the softest, most gentle, most kindhearted man who devoted his life to protecting his loved ones; who showed her the teachings of the Oakfather and held her hand through it all, eventually passing the title of Archdruid down to her once he deemed her ready; who would always be there to cuddle her if a terror woke her in the middle of the night; who defied all natural laws to create her of his own flesh and blood. The man who gave her wild unruly curls, sprinklings of freckles and the biggest heart in Faerún
The world felt colder now that they were gone, especially since Nightal seemed to come in very quickly, covering everything in thick blankets of snow. Before the chilling air fully settled in, Melody had gathered the remaining flowers in their garden, saving them from a cruel fate of withering away in the frosty winds, taken them to the grove with their roots intact and planted them around the twin graves.
Come Ches, they’d be in full bloom again, surrounding their resting place with various swathes of colour, brightening up their small memorial beneath the Willow, protected under the trailing branches of the giant tree. And, knowing her papa, he would be proud of her for not allowing his precious garden to become untamed or completely die; living on to eventually be fertilised with his remains.
One day, a couple of months after the funeral, she lingered there for longer than usual, absentmindedly chatting to their headstones about her day and tending to the surrounding weeds that had become slightly unruly: Her own fault for neglecting them whilst she had been away for a few days, she scolded herself. When suddenly, a sound behind her caused her to startle, turning around rapidly with a sharp gasp.
It took her a few moments to register the figure before her: a tall elf, broad and intimidating with a sharp jawline, ashy blonde hair cropped short at the sides and tied into a neat bun and piercing amber eyes. Despite never having laid eyes on this man before, the way his gaze swept over her coldly, disregarding her presence with a slight curl of his lip felt chillingly familiar; a feeling of instant dread filling her chest. She knew this of man, but only through stories. Terrifying stories of caution from her papa.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Melody immediately hissed, rising to her feet and subtly reaching for the small blade she concealed in the sleeve of her armour, her eyes fixing the man into place as he steps through a break in the willow fronds.
“Oh please, I don’t need permission to pay respects to my son, do I?
Leiten looked down at her with intense disregard, almost in disgust. It was clear he didn’t recognise her at first, seeing only an obstacle in the way of his own goal.
The younger druid refused to look him in the eyes, instead focusing her gaze on the branches of the willow tree behind him as she rose to her feet.
“Your son? You mean the one you disowned years ago for not following what you wanted from him? The one you forced into a marriage that you knew he never wanted? The one who, upon learning he was alive and well despite saving the world, you still took it upon yourself to harass and abuse, despite him actively avoiding you? The son who’s husband you tried to murder.. That son?”
The older elf frowned, finally properly regarding the blonde in front of him. Clad in the signature robes of sage green, adorned with white feathers and decorative silver leaves, her blonde curls pulled back into a neat ponytail- though a few strands had managed to escape, framing her freckled face. Her emerald eyes adopted a steely gaze as she crossed her arms, scowling in a way that when she opened her mouth to speak, it showed off her small fangs, Something, Leiten realised, was not too uncommon with druids, especially with the ones he had known throughout his lifetime.
But there was something in particular about this young half elf that irked him: her audacity to air out his dirty laundry as if it was an old story in a copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette from a tenday ago. How would she have come to know about it in such detail-
A few moments of tense silence passed over the pain; the pieces of the puzzle in Leiten’s foggy mind finally coming together. Her oddly familiar appearance, the way she unashamedly spat vitriol in his face despite never seeing him before, the emblem on her robes…
This was his granddaughter.
All grown up, visibly in her mid thirties but with that telltale glint in her eyes showing that her soul was centuries older. Gods, he hadn’t seen her since she was a newborn. Cruelly, he’d thought that she had passed long ago, around about the same time as her older sister had, after living a full and happy life. She probably even had a family of her own by now, raising them with the same care and unfathomable love that her father’s had.
The look of disgust fell from his face in an instant, the revelation that the last remaining member of his family was standing in front of him, glaring at him as if he was some monstrosity, stung somewhat. His eyes softened slightly as he looked down at her, admonishing himself for not seeing the similarities sooner.
“So he told you everything.. I thought as much. Of course he would prevent you from ever making contact with me. Didn’t you ever wonder why you only had one grandparent?”
Melody scoffed, taken aback by the older man’s insistence of still insulting his son despite standing in front of his grave.
“I don’t believe it.. May I remind you I was alive when you tried to assassinate my dad.. I was there when they had an argument about whether or not they could trust you with seeing us.. I lived most of my childhood in fear of you. He made his choice, and you seemingly made yours the day you decided to forcibly marry him off.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of it all. I was hoping I’d raised him smart enough to come to his senses eventually. But I suppose not. and now..” he trails off, gesturing to the polished headstones in front of him with a terrifyingly uncharacteristic sadness in his eyes. The young druid frowned, turning to look at him properly. To her surprise, the hardened stare in his piercing amber eyes had weakened completely as he looked down, almost.. Regretful?
A few agonising seconds of silence passed between them, the two of them just staring at the other stood before them.
“When he was born, he was such a small baby. Tiny, small enough that I could carry him with one hand. I watched him grow, waited for the day he would finally be mature enough to take his mantle as head of the family, to give us an heir to carry on the name. He was supposed to be my legacy… yet chose Him… He always chose him over anything I wanted him to do”
“He was in love, something you clearly couldn't relate to. Look, I don't know what you hoped to gain from coming here, but if you're just going to stand here and insult my parents in front of their graves- in front of me?, I won't have it.” The young druid snapped, tightening the grip on the small blade in her fist.
Leiten turned to look down at his granddaughter, unimpressed with her blind hostility and seemingly ignoring the silver knife in her hand, one wrong word away from sending it spinning into his jugular.
“Of course, I was in love once, you foolish girl. How do you think you had a father in the first place? Erisae, your grandmother, was the love of my life.. but when she passed, I felt my world shatter.. The only thing I had left of her was Soren.”
Melody stepped back a few paces, still warily regarding her grandfather as he lamented. Her gaze fell to the slightly more weathered headstone beside her fathers’ polished one, reading the intricately carved lettering for the thousandth time:
Erisae Marshelle-Averestin
1407 DR - 1455 DR
Beloved wife and mother
Forever amongst the flowers
“She was taken from me.. far too soon.. and I never got the chance to say goodbye. She would have hated the way I acted, hated me for hurting her children..”
“Then why did you do it? If it hurt you so much to think about how she would have reacted, Why did you subject them to years, no, centuries of abuse.. of terror.. forcing a legacy onto the two of them that neither wanted?”
“Because.. that's exactly it. Legacy.” Leiten sighed heavily, an uncharacteristic wobble in his voice. Suddenly, to Melody's surprise, he knelt down into the grass, uncaring that his smart linen trousers would end up stained chartreuse with pollen and grass.
“The boy was my only chance to continue our family's reputation, not to let the Averestin name die out… but he had other plans. The day he started running around with that LaMoth boy, I knew my chances were dying out. But even before I managed to do anything, Valoren intervened. He felt the same; our boys couldn’t be together, it was unnatural and could simultaneously tear everything down.. He beat your father to near-death…”
His tanned fingers reached out, tracing the lettering spelling out his wife’s name with such an unnatural gentleness. He took a deep ragged breath before continuing, seemingly ignoring his granddaughter’s expression of wary confusion behind him.
“I knew I had to keep them away from each other, going out of my way and above and beyond what could be considered normal to separate them… and I regret it.. I see now he was only truly happy when Ozira was around, yet all I did was try and tear them apart. He grew to despise me and every fibre of my being knows Erisae would despise the man I have become.”
With that, the facade cracked. The dam broke. The man before her began sobbing, clutching the pale stone in front of him, his cries punctuated by incoherent mumbles of “I’m sorry”.
Melody quietly scoffed under her breath, unsure on how to even begin approaching the grieving man before her. A few more moments passed of just watching her grandfather weep into the grass, any trace of his trademark stoic, harsh, abrasive personality just.. Gone. Swept away in the breeze that whispered through the flowing fronds of the willow.
“I- I- I came here… today. To find you, to apologise for everything that I’ve done to hurt you.. To hurt them. Y-You’re the only one left; you’re the Legacy I always wanted… what he was always supposed to give me”
The young druid's confusion suddenly gave way to a sharp wave of anger. Red hot fury bubbling up through her chest, the tattoo of a swallow on her cheek flaring with a bright golden light.
“No. Who the hells do you think you are? You.. You pathetic man. I have no sympathy for you, Leiten Averestin. I am not your legacy. As far as I am concerned, there's no one left of your family, you made that ardently clear when you decided to threaten us. It's laughable, seeing you begging for forgiveness”
Melody scowled down at him, feeling a slight rush of smug satisfaction at the sight of him cowering at her feet.
There was no denying who would win if he decided to lash out; the ageing elf whose career as a Flaming Fist had crashed and burnt at least half a century ago would be dust beneath the boot of the newly-flourishing Archdruid, the magic flowing through her veins as wild and as potent as the nature that surrounded her.
“You come to my grove after spending your entire life as a ‘father’ tormenting your children, pleading for forgiveness and apologising for your actions after they've passed on. Or what.. were you scared? Knowing you'd never be allowed to step foot near their home, regardless of your intentions. It's funny, you spent your life scaring and manipulating the people you pretended to love into compliance and now look at you, cowering on your knees. Pathetic.”
All Leiten could do was shake with the weight of realisation, the force of Melody’s ire feeling like a knife to his heart, unrelenting and painful. He didn't dare look up at her, knowing the fire in her striking green eyes would be the end of him; familiar golden sparks gathering around the centre of her irises, indicative of her fury.
Every sharpened word that left her mouth as she glared him down felt like ice, piercing his body and slowly freezing his aching bones until he was nothing but the unfeeling husk she saw him as, the result of centuries worth of consequence finally striking him.
“Y-You can't mean all of that.. Please.. be merciful. I know my past actions leave much to be desired.. b-but I wish to put that all behind me, repent, start anew. Forgive myself for all that I've done, and live the rest of my life knowing that they forgive me too..”
Melody couldn't help but burst into laughter, mocking and cruel, shocked and beyond furious at the pitiful display below her. Her voice lowered to a dark threatening tone, practically growling at him as she spoke.
“Oh no, oh no no. You don't get to do that. It's far too late for that. My fathers lived their lives in fear of you, but I’m not afraid... and it's about time that the tables were turned. If you ever step foot near this grove again, or try to weasel your way back into my family, you will never know peace again, Oakfather be damned.”
“You can’t.. You can’t just remove me like that-”
“I can, and I will if you don’t get up off the ground instead of snivelling pathetically into the dirt. I’m going to give you one last chance though… Do what you need to do, pay respects, keep crying into the sunflowers, whatever you want, I don’t care. But if I don’t see your sorry ass out of my grove by sundown.. You’ll be fertiliser come morning. Do you understand me?”
Leiten nodded, still shaking in hysterical fear. He knew she would follow through with her threats; the sheer anger radiating from her body told him everything he needed to know. He was no longer welcome in this place, and the fact that she was letting him stay for a few extra moments was her idea of mercy. His eyes lingered on her form as she turned around and slowly stalked her way back out into the main circle in the grove, the trailing willow branches swaying with her departure.
Looking back at his son’s name on his grave once more, he sighed heavily, more tears helplessly flooding down his face. The crushing weight of his actions had finally fallen down on him, caving in and trapping him in a suffocating pile of rubble, left for him to sift through and unpack. Painfully, glaringly, stiflingly. Alone.
~~
As the intricately carved stone wall slid back into place behind her, Melody finally let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Immediately, just being in her room, her safe place, caused her anger to fizzle away, making way for a heavy bout of exhaustion.
Unceremoniously, she collapsed onto the worn leather couch in the corner, squeezed comfortably between two large bookcases and surrounded by various plants in colourful pots. Kicking off her muddy boots, she curled up into a ball, wrapping her arms around herself for some semblance of comfort. Her eyes glanced up to the portrait on the wall next to one of the bookcases, the colours on the canvas having faded with time. But the figures could still be seen, frozen in a cheerful tableau forever; Herself as a baby, all blonde curls and big curious emerald eyes perched happily on her papa’s lap, One of his tanned freckled arms wrapped around her protectively. His mismatched eyes seemingly shone in the candlelight, already with soft smile lines and gentle creases next to his eyes despite being so much younger.
Next to him, stood her big sister, Orchid, beaming with her sharp teeth. Her tail swished behind her, the fluffy tip wrapping around her father’s leg as he stood behind his family, his arms around his husband’s shoulders and his luscious auburn curls spread beautifully down his back, the colour still vibrant and glossy even centuries later. The perfect portrait of a happy family: all of them smiling softly.
She missed them.. So much. Despite having her own family at this point, the fact that she couldn’t head to her father’s home for a good meal and a good gossip anymore stung like a knife to the heart. They had fought so hard to find their happiness and build their family and lived a long happy life, full of love and light. It had been their time- Melody had been anticipating it for a while, seeing them become much more frail and peaceful in the weeks leading up to their passing.
And now, she supposed, they’re in a good place. They would have been granted safe haven with the Oakfather, their souls intertwined and reunited with her grandmama and sister, welcomed with open arms.
All that she could do now, Silvanus guide her, is preserve their memories. Continue to care for their small patch of the vast world, fill it with light and flowers and music. She would not be a hero; there would be no grand statues of her carved and placed in the centre of the city for the citizens to admire. Her fathers’s may have been immortalised in legend, but she would keep watch over them, the way they did to her as they proudly raised her into the formidable archdruid that she became.
Two heroes, eternalised in the history books
Two names on a gravestone, memorialised by the ones they cared for so deeply
Two souls dancing beneath the Willow forevermore
One daughter, standing sentinel amongst the sunflowers, the Legacy they left behind.
