Season 8: …Then All Is Found

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It was unexpected, the nervousness Merla felt as she prepared herself to visit her home and speak to her Queen Mother. She needed to, she knew that much. But what to say, and where to start?

Merla had just said good-bye to Taffeta, the halfling’s unexpected albeit welcome early morning visit brought news that added to the list of fey plots that were a concern to her. Merla took the time to write down the notes she could but she did not wish to tarry long. Once they were done she tucked her papers and notepads away in her handy satchel, the interdimensional space able to hold all of her research, thoughts and musing easily and safely.

She greets the acolyte of Selune Rholor had put forward to help watch over Kruxeral on the days when Merla could not be there to do so herself. This was now the third week of this arrangement and the young man was familiar with what would be needed. He stayed in the front rooms, allowing her a moment alone with Kruxeral and Astra before she would leave.

“I will return soon, arael’salif*,” she whispers tenderly to the sleeping satyr. Soft lips press a warm kiss to his forehead before she straightens up and turns to Astra.

“Watch over them both. Let me know if there are any changes.”

“I will.” 

Merla pauses, looking back to Kruxeral sleeping seemingly peacefully on the large bed, brow drawing together. She debates giving a voice to some of her thoughts but Astra already knows. Clear, pure starlight touches Merla’s mind and it smooths out the worry line starting to form. She gives her companion a grateful smile. Then she closes her eyes and thinks of the Song.

        Aimo aimo
        nee-de lushe
        Noina miria
        enderu plotea
        fotomi

        Moie vea produshka
        fetra produshka

All around her Merla feels a warmth that soothes her heart and calls to her very soul. The air stirs, teasing the half skirt, loose blouse and split cape she wears so they begin to flutter like butterfly wings. The wind picks up speed, embracing her, holding her close, closer than she had ever been held by it before, welcoming her back.

Then she opens her eyes and is surprised to be confronted with rows upon rows of vineyard, stretching out across a flowing landscape under a scorching light. The sun was relatively low in the sky, but it burned intensely all the same. It didn’t take eyes to feel the presence of her Mother within the vines ahead, but the striking gleam off of the shoulders of Queen Titania’s breastplate was near blinding from this angle nonetheless.

The Summer Queen was walking slowly through the vineyard, with an upright bearing that looked almost like a military commander inspecting her troops – and with recent events perhaps she was – one hand on the hilt of her longsword. The crisp bearing was very literally overshadowed by the wide floppy sun hat Titania wore, with a scarlet ribbon around it that matched the thin shawl she had draped over the customary silver breastplate.

Light feet carry the Daughter of Summer forward. As she winds her way through the vineyard, she glances up to the closed buds on their tall stems. Bright green leaves cluster around the buds, verdant stars ready to burst into life. Merla cannot tell which version these sunflowers will bloom into. Her hand reaches out to touch their big leaves as she passes, following their bend towards the velvet length of the stock. She feels power thrumming beneath the surface and it makes the hairs of her arms stand on end.

Then she turns to face the Summer Queen.

“Great Seelie Queen Titania,” Merla says formally, bringing her hand up to touch the imperial topaz in her circlet, then her lips, before bowing her head as she rests her fingers over her heart. She holds herself there for a moment, heart pounding in anticipation before straightening up.

Before she can second guess herself, Merla leaps forward and wraps her small arms around Titania in a warm embrace.

Titania turns and looks down at the tiny girl, arms wrapped around part of her long skirt. She holds up a brief hand to stand down the dozen or so guards who materialize from various hiding places, and then shifts her form, reducing down in size to be just over six feet, a little closer to Merla at least. At last she returns the embrace, and then pulls Merla’s chin up slightly with the side of a finger to look into her face.

“And so my daughter comes to us at last, from conquering shadows, plots, cabals and fate perhaps, conspired to drive a wedge between us both. She comes back stronger,” the Archfey continues, still searching the halfling’s face, “Harder, maybe too. And as for wiser, almost certainly.” She steps back, smiling with a radiance to match the low sun behind her, and holds out an arm. “Do walk with me, there’s much to catch up on.”

Merla smiles, a weight falling away from her shoulders. She stands a bit easier and with a refined confidence threads her arm through Titania’s.

“Where should I begin?” Merla asks, falling into her Queen Mother’s rhythm. “Or will you say first?”

“Oh all my tales are grim fey politics,” she replies waving a hand around, the brim of her hat now shading both of them. “And you were made to spin a tale for summer afternoons like these; speak on, my child!”

Merla bows her head, a coy smile bending her lips.

“After my departure,” she begins, “I searched for leads high and low; none could I find in Kantas…”

And so the Daughter of Summer begins to tell her tale, and much like when she had returned each month before her banishment, the Great Queen of Summer listens. There is excitement and pride behind the story she tells, but it is born on the wings of hardship, loss and strife. It is a long and winding road, with twists and turns, some of which Titania knows from the times Merla had contacted her, but many parts are heard for the first time. Titania chimes in only occasionally with a question or comment.

“To the realm of Fell Shadows did I turn; there was where I faced Arvel once again. I asked him what I could not previously as our blades crossed: ‘Why’d you give me the cloak?’” She changes her voice a little, the tone if not the timbre matching that of the eladrin commander’s. “‘I gave it to you to right what was wronged, to finish a plan begun long ago.’” Merla looks up to Titania, studying her face as she continues. ‘“This plan, who’s it for? Did you not serve Queen Titania as her loyal commander?’ To which he replied, ‘We are legion. I took orders from the Monarch That Was. She’ll lead us to glory.’”

At the words of the traitor from her court, Merla could feel Titania’s warm arm grow cold – a tightness in her face spoke of fury.

“He really was attempting to revive that plan from when you found your way to me. I often wondered just how far they’d gone – did not believe they’d dare complete it now. So Arvel can go rot within the hells.”

The air around them both grows bitterly cold for a moment, the vines around seeming to withdraw in fear, before the temperature returns and the Queen sets her expression back to one of attention to Merla’s story. The smaller woman did her best to control the shudder that ran through her from the sudden drop in temperature and the force of her Mother’s fury. But there was another reason she trembled: Queen Titania took Arvel’s betrayal very personally, the rage running very deep. If she found out about Kruxeral before Merla could help him redeem himself…

No. She would not dwell upon it.

Merla continues her tale. When she gets to the signing of the Aegis Accords she begins to describe in greater detail what happened that day, including what occurred the moment of Queen Sarastra’s death.

“A cold heat raced under my skin, tearing through me, unbidden. The cloak I was freed from left more than scars; there’s a connection, one the Raven Queen has used to exact revenge on the Unseelie Fey foolish enough to try to manipulate Fate.” She looks into her Mother’s eyes. “T’was her, not I, who killed Archon Varra.”

“I think the Raven and myself should have a talk one day – she meddles where she oughtn’t,” her Mother growls. Then turning to face Merla directly, she looks one more time at her face and then nods, eyes tight. “And that connection I can see – a ward. Then fine, perhaps it’s an apology.”

The Queen of Summer begins to ask very specific questions about the events that transpired at the Accords signing. The layout of the room, who was in attendance, the exact minutiae of Sarastra’s murder. The interrogation is detailed, at times intense, but when her questions are exhausted she stops their walk and stares off into the distance for some time.

“I’ve known Sarastra for an age or more,” Titania finally says. “She was a constant, now her star is gone. In all the plots round you and I, it was my life that was the one at risk, I moved to make secure my own vitality. But never and not once, did I consider that another Archfey could be felled. None of the great thrones have sat unseated for an age or more. It is… unsettling, even under grief and politics.”

Merla is quiet for a moment.

“Until recently, the Black Heart Cabal were the only ones I thought were scheming. Then an ally in the Witching Court asked for help – another cabal meant them harm. My friends and I stopped their schemes, learning of a ruler that controls them all.” She pauses. “A Queen of Air and Darkness.”

The Summer Queen freezes, breath caught.

“Shit.” Flowers in all directions instantly wilt to a dark brown at the Archfey’s curse. Merla’s eyes widened in shock. After a moment, Titania shakes herself, looks around and raises a hand, life flowing swiftly back into the plants around. “You know the tales of old – I have not heard my sister spoken of for years. Yet here she surfaces. I’ll never understand her following the call of the Unseelie Court – and then becoming Queen of it?”

Titania spins on the spot and unslings the scabbard from her hip. She begins drawing in the ground, not leaving full grooves behind, but outlining concepts as she thinks, crouching slightly, her head now down by Merla’s.

“So she has made a run at us, but makes a pass at other courts as well it seems? Cabals always keep separate, impossible to know her link to Black Heart. The Balance is unstable – every court competing, Twilight fallen – perfect time to strike and keep us further staggered.”

She cocks her head to Merla – the full bright light of the strategic genius at play. Merla feels her pulse quicken as anticipation blooms within.

“Unseelies always seek to knock us down far more than conquer – favouring anarchy o’er rule. They strike at all, and that is where our vantage lies. We’ve won already ‘gainst their plots at home. So now their every victory (though I wish them none) still works for us and for our gain. Our future’s bright, see Merla? The Court Ascends! I’ll deal with sister dear another time, I cannot process that right now. I’ll use her, til my focus can to her return.”

Merla’s brow draws down slightly as she looks to the strategic plans drawn in the fertile earth.

“Are we to let the cabals hurt our fey cousins for our gain?” She looks back to her Mother. “Should we not help them, show the strength of our sword and breadth of our shield through alliance, so when it comes time to face the Unseelie, to face your sister, it’d be together?”

“I wonder if you know the stakes for which we gamble here?” Head still cocked, still curious. “The Courts are always vying in their ways to find the edge, the proof that one is more than others. But this is all a trifle – the Amaranthine Games were notable but still that pales against the opportunity presented here. Sarastra’s death was tragic, grievous and I grieve for it – however Twilight has now lost its power. One of us will claim it for our own.”

Titania stands again, brushing a little dirt off her dress. “Would you see Nicnevin on that throne? I could tolerate at least that much, but Morinn? Or the King Ulorian?”

“Not Ulorian, never,” Merla says vehemently, her expression twisting into fierce, hot anger.

Titania’s eyebrows rise. “There’s story yet for me to hear it seems,” she says and Merla’s flushes a little embarrassed at her outburst. “But to your question, the Unseelies always plot, but so do all. I do not wish to see such harm – indeed if you intend to interject and meddle in their plans I would not mind. And as Ascendent Fey… well one does not precisely rule – but a suggestion’s all it needs to turn our minds towards a common foe. Does that make sense?”

Merla looks into her Mother’s eyes, trying to find something that would cause her to doubt, anything that would make her uncertain. All she sees is conviction and drive, a purpose that she feels echoed within her own heart, and in the Song she hears.

“Sense it makes…” she replies with a small smile, “though a question I would ask: My friend, Faye, fears a war that will see their home destroyed fully. Queen Morinn has their mother imprisoned and the Advent of Silence has promised Winter’s favour for a task completed.”

Merla takes Titania’s hand holding it close to her chest as she looks up to her Mother’s radiant visage. She is calm, her expression conveying a desire to understand everything. There is uncertainty, but it is matched by her resolve to face what is coming by Titania’s side, a reverent belief in the Summer Queen and her strength. The soft golden glow of her sun-kissed skin starts to brighten.

“Faye had a vision from the Raven Queen of Summer and Winter at war. This conflict with Winter spans years beyond my knowledge, and I wish to know it’s source. Would you tell me Femaer?”

Titania laughs – heartily with a rich voice that carries across the vineyard. “You want to know why Winter and our Summer do not get along? Well why does cold fear hot and fear loathe hope?” She pauses briefly, catching Merla’s face, and shifts her tone slightly. “Your friend is of the Winter Court – I am perhaps unfair – the distinction’s not quite as stark as that. But we have cause for dispute at every level – from Morinn and my relationship to moves political to the very nature of our courts themselves.

“I have no wish to wipe another Court out, child. For Summer to have dominance o’er Winter is… wrong. But,” and her smile turns wolfish, hungry. “Some forts and lands, perhaps some pieces here and there from any and from all not strong enough to counter Queen Titania’s might –,” her arms spread wide, in mock innocence. “Oh well, that may just be the weight to tip the scales towards our favour. No skullduggery, no theft, no secrets, no bargains complex. Just strength and glory will win us the day.”

Arms still apart, she turns slowly, gesturing towards the endless rows of vines again, buds growing, just waiting to bring forth countless warriors. “And so my daughter,” the smile across her entire face now, the sun directly behind her seeming to envelop the Queen in a blazing corona, gleaming off her armour in all directions. “Will you name your legion?”

Merla is struck speechless. Is her Mother truly offering her this? What will it mean for her? She thinks of all she could do with such a resource, the help she could lend, the protection she could provide, the strength she could wield. If Merla accepted this gift and named the warriors they would be hers to command however she willed.

She takes in the radiance before her, feeling a shift in the air around them as a thrumming of power beneath her feet in the soil begins to pulse. Her Mother is as multifaceted as anyone Merla has ever known – more so even. As the Summer Queen, Merla has witnessed her dancing gaily in festivals and bringing harsh, hot judgements upon those who displease her. But she is also Titania, a fierce warrior, whose strength and glory is as much part of the Summer Court as it is part of who she is.

The crown of sunlight radiates around Titania’s beautiful, fearsome face, pulsing to match the rhythm of the Song she knows well. It is then Merla realises her Mother is looking forward to the coming battles, not just for the prize of rising Ascendant, but because of who she is: a fierce warrior, the Queen of Glory and Valor, defender of all things the Seelie Fey stand for and love. It is not a thirst for blood that moves her, but rather one for battle. This is an opportunity for Titania to use a set of skills she has not had the chance to wield in a very long time.

Merla thinks about her own choices, the decisions she has made and it dawns on her; When facing the hordes of Avernus, did she not wreck havoc by singing bursts of psychic energy into existence on the front lines, utterly annihilating battalions of devils? When the hordes of undead flooded past the Thunder Gates and Vorsthold was trapped in a conflux of time, she led a team of her friends to the Plane of the Seven to destroy their anchor, even facing the Lich King Szass Tam and telling him, “No.” She willingly stepped into the Dust Bowl Dance hosted by the very Archfey she warned to never harm those she cares for ever again, else there would be consequences.

Her Mother was right, the stakes are high and The Balance unstable. If they were to face the Queen of Air and Darkness as things stand, it would end in all of the Courts’ destruction. Not once has Merla shied away from a fight and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.

Not one road leading to victory, but all roads leading to a victory.

The Daughter of Summer turns to the rows of vines growing around her, reaching out to touch her fingers to the nearest bud. It trembles under her light touch and energy, a song, whispers just beneath. An excited smile brightens Merla’s face and as she turns back to her Mother, her entire aura aglow with her own dazzling, golden radiance.

“T’would be an honour,” Merla says wholeheartedly.

Titania beams, then straightens and puts her hands behind her back, looking down more sternly.

“Now, this is a true military role. Quite soon, you will lead troops to battle, and direct them, but within an overarching strategy that I alone dictate. So I want you to train with them, and work with my commanders to develop tactics, and be ready. This Will Be Hard – and you will lead these soldiers into battles some will not survive, this much is true.”

“Would training be done here, or could it also be done on the Material Plane?” Merla asks. “The Aegis Accords are still in play and the Fey Courts have put their names to it. You said it yourself: We are the symbol of what an alliance between the Feywild and the Material Plane can yield. Daring has a standing army, but there’s also the Order of the Crimson Fist. I can speak to the Grandmaster, ask him to help me train them.”


Decision made, she waves a hand at the whole conversation. “But we can speak on this another time. You have more tales as yet to tell me, no?”

Merla nodded, taking the opportunity to give one last look to the rows of vines beside her, gathering her thoughts. She takes a deep breath, the fragrance of fresh soil, growing plants and warm sun, mixing together into a heady cocktail in her lungs.

“Tis ’bout the Wand’ring King, Ulorian,” she starts, her voice low. “I met him through my participation in the Dust Bowl Dance. Did you hear about it?”

“A bit in passing maybe, nothing more.”

Merla nods, letting the warmth of the low hanging sun help calm the anger that wants to rise within her.

“The Summer Court has been, will always be Home, the place I return to evermore. Yet Daring Heights has become a home away from home, a place I fight to protect. These lands have you,” she opens her arms wide, gesturing to more than the vineyard they stand in, “to shield and to guide them. To meddle here is foolish and unwise. But elsewhere…” Merla’s arms fall to her side, the rhythm of her heart picking up where her words left off. Her gaze goes distant for a moment as her lips pressing together. Then her small, light feet start a slow and rhythmic pace back and forth in front of her Mother, hands embellishing the story she tells.

“Together, the Grandmaster, Varis, and I sought similar rewards – he, a truth and I, a favour: Did Ulorian willingly unleash a plague in Daring for the Amaranthian Games? He did. Would he never do it, or anything like it again? No.”

She stops and looks up to the Great Seelie Queen. There is a light, a sense of nobility to Merla that speaks to something beyond her years. Titania regards her, a curious appraisal in the Archfey’s eyes.

“Ulorian made light of mortal lives once in the Amaranthian Games, and he does it again. One of his court now seeks for our demise – This for telling him to neither touch nor meddle with Daring Heights for his own amusement e’er again. Varis and I seek justice for Daring. Mother, will you help?”

The wolf’s smile returns to the Summer Queen’s face. She starts to gesture at the vines around them but something stops her hand – she pauses in thought a moment.

“So you seek justice, I seek land and holdings – why I think Ulorian can spare us some of both. I’m sure we can devise some plans which these two goals encompasses. But-” she pauses again. “Give me some time, my daughter, for I feel a far more entertaining plan arise.” Her eyes dance in thought of something, though she refuses to say more on the subject.

Merla sighs but it’s with a teasing smile. “Fine, I’ll allow it,” she says, a wicked glint in her eyes. Then her expression shifts, becoming sincere but the hint of puckish glee remains. “It means a lot that you will help, Femaer. Perhaps we get another Court’s support; the Witching maybe.”

Titania nods at the thanks, but then shrugs at the latter suggestion. “Unlikely – after all we seek the same result – a gain for us, and not for others. Peace again returns when power settles.”

“And Balance restored,” Merla agrees, feeling a new weight settle over her.

She turns towards the setting sun, closing her eyes and allowing herself to bask in it’s warmth. Standing beside the fiercest, brightest, strongest woman she has ever known, it is incredible to think such a person could be her Mother.

“You left us…”

Merla inhales sharply, eyes snapping open as a tingling sensation runs down her back. She wasn’t going to mention it. Despite what Baine told her, it still felt like a betrayal. But something her Mother said earlier was now niggling at her mind and she needed to let her know.

Reaching out and stepping closer, Merla takes Titania’s hand and suddenly, it’s like she is a child again, moss and flowers in her hair, feet bare, skirts dusted with pollen from dancing in the fields, throat raw from singing for hours as Kruxeral played his panpipes. Then she brings Titania’s hand up to her lips and kisses her fingers, and she herself in the present. Merla looks up and it’s like looking into the sun.

“You have been my Mother for as long as I can remember,” she starts softly, a smile lighting her face briefly, “yet my story did not start here, I think. It was Your Song that called to me, across the Realms, to your side. I don’t know why but…” Tears like dew gather in the corners of her ocean blue eyes as she searches Titania’s face. “I need to find the family I was with before I found you.”

That beautiful fey face turns down to look at her with surprise, taking in her tearing eyes with a mix of concern and puzzlement. “If that is what you wish, you’re strong enough to,” she says simply, after a moment. “I must admit I quite forgot you had one ‘fore you came this way those years ago.”

A touch of that immortal fey distance creeps in between the mortal concerns – her Mother seemed closer than she’d ever been, yet still that slightly alien feel sometimes. That flash of worry Merla had that Titania might be possessive seems to not cross her Mother’s mind – perhaps because she would never consider another competition.

“You have a path to find them then, my child?”

Merla nods. “A friend has read of a place in the Upper Planes that may have the answers I seek.”

Her eyebrows raise. “A strange direction, but I wish you luck.”

A sunny smile brightens the young woman’s face causing the gathered tears to flow over and spill down her cheeks.

“If your blessing you give then I’m thankful,” Merla says, once more wrapping her arms around her Mother in a warm embrace. She rests her cheek against the red shawl covering Titania’s gleaming silver breastplate and closes her eyes.

“I love you, Femaer, always and forever.”

“I’ve never been more proud to call you Daughter, Merla,” her Mother replies. “You have done great things, and more is yet to come. Of this I have no doubt.”

Merla holds her Mother closer for a moment as an ache squeezes her heart. A part of her had hoped that this would be the time, the moment when she would say the words. But Merla began to wonder, can an Archfey – someone ancient and so powerful – love a halfling whose lifespan is but a moment of their existence? She has heard the tales but had always thought, had always hoped she was different. ‘Pet’ is the term often used in the songs sung of mortal foundlings in the Fey Courts. Is that all she would ever be?

No, she is more, so much more to Titania than that.

She looks up to the heavenly radiance of her Mother’s face, searching, and she sees it; the slightest motion that says Titania herself does not know. Not of her feelings – her joy for Merla and Titania’s pride in her are powerful enough to be palpable in the very air around them – but rather whether Titania is capable of loving her.

Love finds a way.

And it has. Her Mother does love her. What has been this whole conversation if not a way for Titania to show Merla her love? It is a force as multifaceted as it is powerful, capable of a great many things. How it manifests differs because no two people – be they foundling or Archfey – are alike.

Merla takes a step back, one hand falling to rest on the pommel of her dancing rapier, the other to lightly touch the strings of the harp by her side. The imperial topaz glimmers brightly with orange, yellow and magenta light as the golden glow to the small woman’s skin pulses, a soft indescribable melody coming from her.

“Shall I continue, starting with the naming of these warriors?” Merla asks with a gesture. Her tears are gone, evaporated by the heat of the air around them and banished with her smile.

Titania stands back as well, looking expectant but with a good-humoured smile. “Indeed, please I await with baited breath.”

Merla nods and turns away. Softening her gaze she slips into a kind of trance, allowing herself to feel everything around her, from the burgeoning power murmuring in the vines all around to the music heard on the wind. The low sun’s balmy rays bathe her in a resplendent light that reflects back through the gem in her circlet. She takes a deep breath, letting it all flow into her, welcoming it as much as drawing it in. Her already majestic presence grows stronger and her gaze sharpens into focus, looking out over the rows upon rows of flowers waiting to bloom.

In one elegant, stylish move, her right hand strums across the thrumming strings of her harp, swoops up and across her body and draws her rapier. She holds it up aloft, it’s silvery white length humming in her hand, a shaft of brilliant light that glitters opalescent. With a voice originating deep within, she sings out across the fields.

“I call ye forth, warriors of Summer: Ve’seòrail Lis Eluiné*!”

Her cry resonates across the vineyard, echoing as the leaves rustle around the halfling’s small, noble form. As the echoes died away, sword still held aloft, there was a small, awkward cough from behind her, and Merla felt Titania’s hand rest on her shoulder.

“Ahem – they are not quite prepared just yet, my dear. You will get word when they arrive. It is a fitting and most glorious name.”

“Oh. I thought-… Right. Yes,” Merla stammers. She hastily sheaths her sword and stands there, the flush of embarrassment rising up from below her armour, racing all the way to the tips of her ears.

Then her shoulders start to shake and a laugh, bourn from her belly and uncontrollable, bubbles up and she turns towards her Mother, tears in her eyes, hands coming up trying and failing to hold it in.

“I would say ‘I hope no one heard,’ but that is like asking the sun to never rise,” she says between giggles, cheeks flushed as the tears of laughter spill down her cheeks. “I am nothing if not dramatic, no?”

And Titania was laughing too, throwing her head back as her laughter too echoed out. A few muffled sniggers from the surroundings suggested that maybe the hidden guards too were amused. “I’d say you are, as ever - ‘call ye forth’,” she imitated, still chuckling.

Another fit of laughter runs through Merla at her Mother’s impression that she has her wiping the tears from her eyes.

Once the music of their laughter had run its course they linked arms again, turning away from the setting sun to make their meandering way back to Perihelion Palace. Merla tells her Titania of the various concerts she has performed whilst away, to which the Great Seelie Queen asks if she would perform for her that evening. Merla, the light of love and happiness in her heart, says she would be delighted.



* arael’salif – heartsong, said to someone you love
* Ve’seòrail Lis Eluiné – The Radiant Legion of the Sun Song