A Song of Tears & Petrichor

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The steady pitter-patter of summer rain against the stone terrace through the stained glass double doors of Merla’s stately rooms at the Four Fair Winds, coupled with the unique earthy smell of petrichor, adds a layer of comfort to her late morning. She was already deep into her tapestry weaving, the flow of magic swirling around her as she worked the loom. Kruxeral watched her from the table where he sat, finishing a very late breakfast, his shifting green eyes tracing over the reach and pull of her arms as she wove threads in various shades of green and dark blue. The song she sang was the rhythm Merla wove to, its pitch and tone pulling at his heart with every note and he marvelled at how something as simple as this could make him fall in love with her all over again.

“Are you going to tell me who you’re weaving this one for?” he asks, taking a sip of tea.

It is several minutes before Merla can reply, needing to finish the song’s refrain before she can answer.

“Where would be the fun in that when you could entertain me with your guesses, O Master of Revelries,” Merla says, a playful grin dancing on her lips. She shakes her head, gold and pink hair rippling in the light of her softly glowing skin. The golden glow is nearly a permanent feature to her these days, even here on the Material Plane.

“I will figure it out, Merla. You cannot hide it from me forever!” the satyr declares, leaping up to come over to her. He studies what she has woven so far, enfolding her in his arms as he kisses her neck. She lets out a soft giggle as the beard on his face tickles the soft skin under her jaw. Though she has only just begun, Kruxeral sees the telltale signs that could only point in one direction.

“Is it for the new Fey Ascendant, Queen of Nicnevin?”

She looks at him, mouth open in half indignant surprise. He grins.

“I told you I would figure it out.”

“You are too clever for your own good, you know that?” Merla says, raising an eyebrow even as she half pouts, half grins.

“As you like to remind me at least once a day,” Kruxeral says, laughing. His fingers brush across her cheek as he turns her face up to his before kissing her deeply.

There is a knock on the door – three sharp, measured raps.

They both stop what they’re doing and look at the door.

“Expecting someone?” Kruxeral asks.

“No…” Merla gets up and opens the door.

The halfling standing outside the door is shorter than her, though she vaguely remembers him being taller many years ago. She last saw him in a scrying vision through a tree in the Celestial Realms. Berton is wearing a finely tailored waistcoat of dark grey with bright silver thread over a deep blue shirt. He was also wearing a tight, angry face until the door opened and he saw his sister for the first time in decades.

“Yondalla’s breath…” he gasps, taking a step back in apparent fear and confusion, eyes searching his sister’s golden-skinned face for recognition. “Merla? Is that you?”

Her momentary, surprised delight turns to mild uncertainty and slight hurt at her brother’s reaction. Merla knew she had to say something, but she wasn’t ready for this. And why did Berton look so scared?

“Yes,” she says, her voice shaking. Merla swallows and tries again. “Yes, Berton, it is me.” She tries to give him a warm smile. “What an unexpected surprise! You look…” Her eyes trace over the lines on his face, the tightness to his lips and the slight belly he has under his fine waistcoat.

“Are you going to invite him in, arael’salif*?” Kruxeral asks kindly, coming up beside her, giving Berton a nod. The halfling man takes a moment to blink at the satyr.

“Of course! Yes, come in, please,” Merla says, stepping back with a gesture.

Berton nods at Merla’s invitation and steps just inside. He takes the richly decorated room in with a glance and then straightens himself back up, his only slightly-wrinkled face calming again.

“We thought it was our turn for the surprise,” he says with the slightest of head tilts that could be read as an apology, if only just. “The money you sent…” Berton laughs softly. “Nine Hells, Merla. Eina, Marto and I run a good business – a very successful one, I’ll have you know. But your ‘little something’ is a year’s profit for us. So yes, Marto suggested we could invest in using a Teleportation Circle to come and see our long lost sister.”

He pauses, looking at her again. “It seems you’ve been in the Feywild for a while. We’ve been here for the better part of a month, waiting for the day you’d come back here, getting to know this place you’ve been living. Mother and Father are waiting in their rooms downstairs with Marto. Will you come and see them?”

“You’ve been here? This whole time?” It was not often Merla felt unsteady in herself, and certainly it is a rare occasion when she did not know what she was feeling. It was only yesterday at Nerry’s, speaking with Taffeta and Jacinta that she mentioned possibly teleporting over to visit the Copperkettles. But her long lost family, at least some of them, had come to the Dawnlands.

Tears spring to her eyes even as she smiles. “Yes, I will. If now is okay?” A thought occurs to her. Merla looks at her loom and the residual magic in the air around it. “Oh, just one moment, please.”

She quickly goes over to it, humming a few bars and the motes of floating magic slowly soak into the threads on the loom. A few more words spoken softly in Sylvan and Merla has sealed the magic into the tapestry until the next time she works on it.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

Berton turns to the door and then looks back. “And is your… friend coming?”

“I must return to Court, many a revelry to plan and such. But do give my warmest regards to your mortal family, arael’salif.”

Merla turns towards Kruxeral, eyes wide. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

He takes her hand. “I can meet them another time, if they wish to meet me.” He glances at Berton who is standing stiffly by the door, waiting. Kruxeral lowers his voice. “I have a feeling they don’t particularly like our kind,” he says in Sylvan.

She raises an eyebrow. “If that truly is the case, I’m sure we can convince them otherwise,” she replies in kind.

Kruxeral chuckles. “Always the optimist.” He kisses her hands. “Go on, your brother keeps glaring at me.”

Merla smiles, kissing him lightly on the lips. Then she turns towards Berton, a bright smile on her face.

“Let’s go.”

---

The Copperkettles were situated in a pair of halfling-sized rooms adjoining one another. Berton walks up to the one on his left and puts his hand on the door, pausing.

“They’ve waited a long time to see you again,” he says, very quietly, head still mostly facing the door. “Don’t mess this up.” And without waiting for a response he knocks and opens the door in one smooth motion.

Gelni and Ulvon Copperkettle sit at a small table in their low-ceilinged room, each with a rough hand on the table holding the other as they wait to see their daughter. Their clothing is simpler than Berton’s, but they’ve both clearly dressed up for the occasion – Gelni in a blue dress and shawl and Ulvon in a crisp shirt with a brown loose waistcoat. Off to the side, perched on a stool and eyes glued to the door is Marto, their youngest child, muscular arms exposed by a sleeveless, well-tailored cream vest-top with intricate red and green embroidery.

Gelni and Ulvon both straighten as the door opens, decades of sitting over a potter’s wheel hunching their posture a little. As Merla steps in, Gelni screams – a wail of pain and loss and relief and stress that tells more than a dozen songs. Ulvon wraps his arms around her and gently sets her on her feet, walking around the table towards Merla. Ignoring Berton’s words of introduction or anything else for that matter, he wordlessly reaches out with his other arm and drags Merla and Gelni together in a heavy embrace. Potters and lumberjacks – the Copperkettles are a family of strong arms.

“Our little bird – my you’ve grown,” he says after a minute, not letting go.

Merla’s startled, rigid form quickly melts as her Papa’s speaks. His voice is the same, well rounded baritone she remembers, though a little rougher for the years that have passed. She does not realise she is crying until she feels her Mama’s hands reach up to touch her face, tracing the sharper features with trembling fingers as Gelni’s brown eyes search it for something.

“Mama, Papa…” her voice is small, like a lost child’s. Merla doesn’t know where to begin, or how to say everything that she wishes to. But sometimes words aren’t necessary. She wraps her arms around her elderly parents, noticing with a start she has to bend down in order to bury her head into their shoulders.

“I’ve found you.”

Berton quietly makes his way around the huddle and goes to stand near Marto, who puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder as they watch. Eventually, as the hug disengages, Ulvon waves a hand towards the table.

“Come and sit. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

As Gelni returns to her chair, wiping her face with her shawl, she laughs a spluttering chuckle through the tears. “When you spoke out of nowhere, Merla, I thought my heart would stop. I thought ‘This is it! I’ve died and this is the final vision before I go to the Green Fields.’ If Yoara hadn’t been there, I don’t think we would have believed it had happened at all!” Ulvon nodded in agreement.

Merla smiles sheepishly, casting a glance over to Berton and Marto. When her eyes lock onto her younger brother’s there is a small jolt of disjointedness, some peculiar sense of déjà vu. She smiles a little brighter to mask the strange feeling.

“I was not sure it would work but I had to try,” she says. Merla rests a hand on the halfling sized chair. “The Craobh de Shruth Fala was reaching its limit for what it could do for me, but I had to let you know I was alive.”

She carefully pulls the chair out from the table, the fine, light green and pink fabric of her summer dress floating like an afterimage as she descends to sit down. Merla carefully wipes at her eyes, removing the last of the lingering tears, before placing her hands on her lap. When she looks up it is the perfect, ethereal image of a fey woman that gazes back at Gelni and Ulvon, a small, hesitant smile on her lips.

“I hope the journey here was not too difficult. Berton mentioned you’ve been here for over a… month?” Merla’s hesitation over the word is almost passible, but it is clear she is being cautious so as not to frighten Gelni and Ulvon.

“Well I’ve never been magically whisked from one place to another in the blink of an eye, but it was disorienting, nothing more,” her mother replies, clearly glad to be able to talk about something almost normal.

“We took the main road to Arabel,” Ulvon chimes in. “Voren Longtrotter suggested we take the forest path as we got closer to the city so we did go that way in the end, avoided a lot of the waiting amongst the carts to get through the gates.”

“But Daring Heights is a strange place though,” Gelni cuts in. “There’s all manner of people here – even kobolds – and orcs! Kantas seems very different from Faerûn, and that’s for sure. Why I saw-”

“Where did you hide your toys as a child?” Berton interrupts sharply, from across the room. It was a test, the only thing he could apparently think of to verify her identity.

Merla sees the waring emotions plain as day on her brother’s face – hope mixed with doubt. She thinks for a moment, a line forming between her brows beneath her swirling diadem.

“I don’t remember…” she hesitantly admits. “But, I remember the orchards and fields, spending hours upon hours under the sun or, even in the rain, reenacting the stories the Elders would tell us.” Berton’s eyes narrow, Marto also watching his brother’s face. Merla looks back to Gelni and Ulvon. “I do remember the blue butterfly spoon. I always wanted it, even if what we were having for dinner wouldn’t need a spoon to eat it, I would insist. I always wanted wings like the ones on that spoon…”

Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. This is it. This is when they discover she isn’t who she says she is, that somehow she has remembered wrong and is not their long lost daughter. She may sort of look like Merla Copperkettle with Ulvon’s full lips and Gelni’s delicate nose, but she isn’t really her. She is merely a Lost Girl, neither Mortal nor Fey, and there is nowhere in the Realms that will truly recognise her as part of their own.

Berton shrugs. “It’ll do. You’re her, whatever else they’ve done to you.”

Merla lets go of the breath she had been holding in.

Ulvon waves him down. “Leave it be, Berton. It’s not an unfair thing to check maybe,” he says to Merla. “But I’d know my daughter anywhere – not all the fey tricks in the world could hide you. Though,” he hesitates, looking at her again. “What did happen? All of it. Where have you been? How did you get here?”

“Who took you?” Gelni asks as well, urgently.

“Where’d you get all these amazing clothes?” Marto adds to the list – the first time he’s spoken since she arrived, a hearty voice, cheerful, open and direct.

Merla blinks in surprise at all the questions thrown at her. She lets out a shaky chuckle.

“I will answer all of these questions, as I said I would in my letters.”

She sits forward to place her hands on the table, takes a deep breath and then begins.

“Time runs differently in the Feywild, compared to the Material Plane. I don’t know exactly how much time has passed for me but seeing all of you tells me that it has been twice the length of time since we last were with each other. When I left – for I did leave on my own to find the Song I heard, the one I told you and Papa about, Mama – I was a child. I walked into the woods wanting to find that Song, wishing to hear the voice that sang it…”

They listen to her, still as stone statues, already hanging on her every word. Gelni’s knuckles are white as she grips her husband’s hand. Merla continues.

“I was found by a woman, someone I thought could help me. She called herself Mother Maeve. She was-… She took me to her Cabal and it was there where I became truly lost.” She shakes her head so as not to linger in those dark memories. “I now know she is of the Unseelie, those Fey that would see chaos and anarchy reign over a land of great beauty and powerful magic. But at the time, all I wanted was to be found, to escape the dark and find my way home.”

Berton and Marto have come to sit at the table as well, and seeing the others trying to keep up with the fantastical story, Marto interjects quickly, trying to clarify for their benefit. “The Unseelie are the bad faeries, right?”

“Yes, very bad,” Merla says, the gold ring in her eyes flashing brighter. “The Green Knight saved me. When I awoke and was strong enough, I was brought before the Great Seelie Queen of Summer, Titania. Sometime between waking and gaining my strength, all of my memories of my life before then – my life with you – were sealed away. It has only been recently, within the last three or four moon cycles that I have remembered everything.”

As soon as she takes a breath the questions come tumbling in again, everyone asking simultaneously.

“Wait, the Queen Titania from the stories?”

        “Why did they take your memories away?”

                “But then how did you end up in this weird land?”

                        “How did your memories come back?”

Merla holds up her hands to stave off the flood, but does her best to answer them all.

“Yes, the Queen Titania. I became part of her Court, growing up protected in Perihelion Palace in the Summer Lands. It is where I learned about music and magic, where I met my love, Kruxeral – the satyr you met earlier, Berton. I have spent years with the fey, singing for the Queen, living life as her daughter.”

She stops, realising what she just said, the words extinguishing the excitement in her and in her family. Gelni’s face, her mother’s face, goes pale; her father’s eyes tighten just a little.

It is then Merla realises she does not know why her Queen Mother sealed her memories away, for it was she that did it. Merla slowly stands and steps away from the table, feeling their eyes on her as she goes over to a large window. She watches the steady rain fall from thick, dark clouds as the sun tries, in vain, to push through.

“I had grown restless in the Summer Lands. I wanted to see more of the realms, to become stronger, to find inspiration for myself and my music. There was a woman, a tiefling, who came to the Summer Court. She spoke of a land newly discovered on the Material Plane called the Dawnlands, of a settlement named Daring Heights. When she and Titania’s other Chosen won the Amaranthine Games, I bargained for a year and a day to leave the castle, to explore and find what songs I could to bring them back to her. That is how I came to this place the first time.”

There are a few questions. Ulvon probes about how Titania treated her, especially if Merla had to bargain to be allowed to leave. Marto asks about life in the Feywild, and the magic she’s seen. Berton asks nothing, but says in the middle of the story, “This queen obviously wasn’t worried about you coming back to find us, because she took your memories first.”

The silence after his words is heavy.

“She did not take anything that was not freely given,” Merla says softly, though her brow is furrowed.

Marto breaks the tension. “So did you enjoy living in Daring Heights or the Summer Lands more? What did you do here?”

Merla half turns to look back at her family, but she finds it hard to meet their eyes.

“‘There is always something,’ as a friend of mine is want to say. I found myself involved with plots of intrigue and conspiracy, fighting against giants and then against the hordes of the First. I have seen friends fall and still mourn their passing. Something kept pulling me back to this place though, even as my ties to Queen Titania and the Summer Court grew deeper – my strength and power ever increasing.”

Merla looks down to her hands, seeing the memory of blood on them.

“The Unseelie tried to use me against my Queen Mother, manipulating me into committing a horrendous murder. I was banished and forced to find a way to prove my innocence whilst trying to save the place I call home.” She looks up to her family, feeling the distance between her and them in fathoms rather than mere feet. “I did it, but I nearly lost the love of my life in the process…”

Her family’s faces spoke like sonnets. Gelni is torn between outrage that her daughter had been kept from her and for all that Merla had suffered, amazement at who and what her daughter had become, and a blank stupefaction at the sheer volume of incredible statements she is being bombarded with. Ulvon’s face flickers from worrying about his wife and her welfare to worrying about Merla as she tells him about the horrors she had faced – a quick clarifying question from Marto on exactly what ‘hordes of the First’ meant had Ulvon choking on his glass of water.

For her siblings’ part, Berton fluctuates between stiff suspicion and anger and listening in wide-eyed amazement at the tale. Whatever the circumstance, Merla telling a story is enthralling in and of itself. Marto has his chin resting in one hand, watching her talk almost totally spellbound. It’s only the repeated, incisive questions and the quick flicks of his eyes around the group that reveal that he is trying constantly to make sure his family are keeping up with the whirlwind of a life his older sister has led.

“And so, what caused your memories to come back?” he repeats his question from earlier as Merla pauses her tale.

She studies Marto, this unknown younger brother, and sees an eager intelligence in his light blue eyes. Merla cannot help but feel out of all of them, he is the most eager to hear more, particularly about her time with the Fey. As to why, she cannot say quite yet. For that reason alone it is Berton Merla turns to face when she answers the question.

“I did not forget you, not completely. I had my name, Merla Copperkettle. When my friends and I went to Bytopia, I touched the Tree of Bloodlines and focused on that name.” She smiles. “There is so much in a name. Meaning, history, beginnings and continuations. That was how I found you, that was how I released my memories, and that is why we are here today.”

“A magic tree… murders, the Hells, knights and giants…” Ulvon murmurs. “And you’ve come through all of that on your own? You’ve got… magic and swords-”

“-and magic swords,” Marto chimes in helpfully.

“Er, yes. I…” Ulvon falls silent for a minute, and so does the whole group, just sitting back and taking it all in.

Finally, Gelni stands up and walks over to Merla at the window. She takes her daughter’s hand, larger both by time and magic than it was when she last held it so long ago.

“You’ve grown so much, my little bird. And you… you’re incredible.” Gelni touches Merla’s face again. “You’re so beautiful, Merla. And you fight? You fight demons? I never imagined. I’ve wondered what became of my little girl for so long but I never imagined this, not once. I wasn’t even close.”

She takes a step back, and looks her full in the face. “Whatever else she may have done, this queen has given you a better life than I ever could have. Do you… regret leaving?”

Merla looks at Gelni and wishes she could say the words her Mama wants to hear. But that would be a lie and after years of being in the dark, not knowing the truth, they deserved to have it.

Even if it would be hard for her to say.

“The only thing I regret is that my leaving caused so much pain, for all of you,” Merla says, tears welling up in her eyes. “I was but a child, curious and wilful, wanting to see so much, following my heart to places unknown. I still do that to this day!” She places a hand over her bosom, laughing, even as hot tears fall from her blue and gold eyes. “I am of your family. But I am also of the Summer Court.” She looks from Gelni to Ulvon, from Berton to Marto, then back to Gelni. It's the first time the Copperkettles hear the most beautiful, heart wrenching music emanate from Merla as she lets her emotions go.

“You are my Mama and Papa, but Titania is also my Mother.” Merla looks between them all. “I know you probably do not wish to hear me say that, but it is the truth. I have been touched by the Fey. I can hear the True Songs of others. I have asked myself why so many times but have yet to find an answer. Maybe I never will…”

Merla takes a tentative step towards Gelni and the otherworldly music emanating from her softens.

“But we are tied to each other through Love.” She turns to Ulvon and when she smiles, it is like the sun breaking through the clouds. “It is the one thing that can transcend time and it is what will keep us together. I have so much I want to share with you…” She reaches out a hand to both her parents, then pauses, uncertain if they will want to take it. “I’ll understand if, after hearing all this, after all the pain I have caused, you do not wish to be part of any of it.”

Ulvon has walked towards her through these last words and come to stand beside Gelni – her Mama and Papa side by side before her. They reach out a hand each tentatively, and hold hers, but it’s a light grip, confused. They don’t say anything, looking at each other and seemingly trying to find the words.

Marto stands up quietly. “I think we’ve all had a lot to suddenly process – even you, Merla. Before we make any grand steps in any particular direction, why don’t we take a few minutes? I can send some drinks and food into the room. Sist- Merla, would you join me?” Now it is his turn to hold out a hand, thick and gnarled from use.

Merla gives her parents one, last lingering look, gently squeezing their hands. Then she lets go, taking a step back, the movement coming across almost like the beginning of a dance such is her gracefulness. Then she tentatively takes Marto’s hand. The texture of his skin is rough in a way that is unfamiliar to her. It is yet another stone in the wall that she worries could keep her separated from her mortal family.

As the door closes behind them on the scene of Gelni, Ulvon and Berton looking at each other silently, Marto turns to look up to her and says, “Well that’s all a bit much isn’t it? Better let them talk it out for a while. Come to terms with everything, you know?”

“You seem to have accepted everything fairly well,” Merla observes.

“You know, ma’s always imagined what became of you. But I’ve had to imagine everything about you! And Yondalla’s left foot you don’t half make an impression. But yeah, it’s different for us isn’t it? You don’t know me, and I only know you as someone who defined my life. I didn’t lose anything, I… well, I wouldn’t say gained, but let’s just say Berton took me into the lumber business fairly early to avoid me getting overly spoiled.”

The main floor of the inn is relatively quiet, the lunch crowd not quite here yet. Marto orders a small platter of food, a large pitcher of water and a small, but not too small pitcher of wine to be sent to the room. Then he turns back to her, smiling face inquisitive.

“So let me see if I’ve followed all this. You left home because you wanted to follow a fairy song? Fair enough, sounds like a child to me. You got caught by one fey, then rescued and delivered to another, who proceeded to wipe your mind – freely given, you said? You learned how to be amazing, then went on a bunch of adventures, the likes of which would make a bard weep – oh hey, are you a bard? – and then touched a magic tree that woke your memories back up. And now you’re trying to have both families?”

“Freely given by a child who did not understand what it was she was giving away,” Merla clarifies.

She looks at the bartender and before she even finishes nodding they are adding a bottle of feywine to the order, but on her own tab as they know to do. Merla lets out a sigh.

“But yes, summed up, that’s correct. You say I defined your life. What do you mean by that?”

“You know how it goes. Sometimes when parents lose a child they have another one. It happens. And so I happened. Ma was super overprotective and Pa just gave me a lot of sad looks all the time.” Marto grinned. “But hey, you know the answer to this one, when your parents tell you to definitely not go anywhere near anything to do with fairies, whaddayado?”

Merla chuckles. “Clearly do the opposite of what they ask.”

“Ha, so of course I snuck out to taverns to listen to stories, I stole books and learned everything I could. I doubt it’s much, and I doubt half of it was true, but yeah, I wanted to know what was so important that my sister just up and left one day.” His laughter stops abruptly. “You followed a song, you said. From being in a room with you for five minutes, it seems you found a song all right. I’m glad you had an adventure, even if… well, you know – I just don’t know what happens next.”

She studies Marto carefully. “How much have you learned about the Fey? I’m guessing Mama and Papa don’t know about your interests…” Her brow furrows as her gaze gets more intense. “Wait. You’re saying they cautioned you against anything to do with the Fey since you were born. Was it because of me? I thought they didn’t know what happened to me until my letters.”

“They didn’t know exactly what happened, but as I understand it, you had been talking about the faeries, ma told you not to go near them, and then the next day you were gone. Ferri Poppinlocke was a local tracker who they asked to help look for you and they got your trail as far as the forest and then it just vanished. So, they always feared you had simply been kidnapped, but they have always assumed you had been lost to the faeries exactly as they feared.”

He smiles, ruefully. “That’s why the logging business began, you see? Berton and Eina took it rather personally – that forest took their sister you see. I grew up watching that forest get smaller and smaller, and as soon as I was old enough I joined the new family business. I was 25 when I felled the last tree of that forest.” His face twitches with a pang of regret. “It’s a good job, and they’ve made a great logging company. They started actually using more sustainable practices when they moved on to the next forest, but that first one – we cut it down to the last tree, in your name, Merla.”

“You destroyed the home of many for the loss of one, all in my name. I do not consider that a gift, Marto.”

Merla lets her more fey-like nature come through as she speaks. The look that dashes across Marto’s face tells her that more than just the tone of her voice frightens him a little. Merla’s expression softens slightly once more before she looks away, watching the barman finish preparing their order.

Since regaining her memories Merla has reflected back on those last days with the Copperkettles many times. Not once did her Mama or Papa say anything about faeries. She, in her childhood innocence and ignorance, thought it had been a birdsong. It wasn’t until she was standing in front of the Archfey that would become her Queen Mother that Merla knew what, or rather who it was. But Gelni had reacted like she knew the danger of such a song…

“Tell me,” Merla begins, going back to the tone she had before and softening her face with a smile. “Do you enjoy the work you do and the life you live? Or do you wish for something… else?”

The food and drinks began to be brought out, carried by the wait staff. Marto directs them briefly, and then turns back to Merla as he gestures to head back towards the room down the hall. “Eh, it’s the only life I’ve known, Merla. I’ve had many dreams – for a while when I was a child I even thought about becoming a warrior to go and find you and bring you home! But it’s a good life, and it’s good to have someone to keep the peace between Berton and Eina sometimes.”

He pauses, as the staff begin to open the door and bring trays in, ducking down low in the halfling-sized room. Scanning Merla’s face, trying to read the intention behind her question, he spreads his hands apart a little. “Is this what I want to do forever? Dunno – life’s more complicated I think than necessarily what I want.” He shrugs, and turns back to the open door, people now exiting with empty trays. “For example…” he walks into the room.

Mama, Papa and Berton are sitting at the table again, picking up some food from the platters onto smaller plates, and pouring drinks. Gelni looks up directly at Merla as she enters, seemingly much more composed now – eyes puffy but dry – and she sighs in an odd relief.

“Did you enjoy getting to meet your brother, Merla? Marto always seemed to compete with you as for how much of a handful he could be.”

She gives a small chuckle. “I did, Mama. Marto and I had a very good conversation and seem to like a number of the same things.” Merla gives her brother a sly smile and a wink before coming over to the table.

Berton rolls his eyes and shoots a look at his brother, who just smirks and grabs a plate.

Merla sits down beside Gelni, taking in the way her family makes a comforting, rhythmic music as they begin to have light conversation with their lunch. In another life, had she not followed a Song into the woods, she would have been part of this small symphony. But if she had never left, Marto might not have been born. She has only just met her younger brother but she knows that the world is a better place with him in it.

But where does she fit in with this family?

“Mama, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Merla, what is it?”

“When I told you about the Song I heard as a child, I thought it was a birdsong. But you… you knew what it was, but didn’t say anything.” Merla searches her halfling mother’s face as her deft fingers brush over the ring of shadow she wears – the one that would allow her to cast a subtle spell to find out the truth. She doesn’t use it, not yet. But her heart is racing and Merla is not sure if after all these years her Mama will tell her the truth.

“How did you know it was a Fey Song?”

Gelni looks at her, confused. A long moment of silence is broken by Berton chuckling softly to himself, smiling a sort of private smile before being hushed by Ulvon. Gelni shrugs, looking a little helpless.

“It’s… everyone knows the stories, Merla. I told you exactly what my mother told me about those woods. It wasn’t common, but everyone knows someone-”

“-who knows someone,” interrupts Marto.

“-whose child went missing in those woods following the sound of music or seeing some dancing lights in the mist,” she finishes. “And there’s no use you doubting me, Marto – the stories were true!” She turns back to Merla. “It was all just local superstition, Merla, you know… what’s the word for a superstition that’s true? A realstition?”

“A fable,” Merla says simply.

Berton laughs that guttural laugh again. “Sounds like you’ve still got my suspicious mind, then,” he says. “You’ve been wrapped up in politics and grand adventures for too long, Bird. Sometimes things are complicated, but sometimes they’re very, very simple.” He chuckles, his whole posture still a little hunched, a little pained by the whole experience. “Maybe this fairy princess that’s returned from her tales of adventure still has a few things to learn yet.”

“Don’t call her that!” Ulvon barks suddenly. “She’s been gone a while, but Merla is still a halfling.” It seemed important to him to say that, as if he wasn’t just trying to convince Berton.

Merla looks from her older brother to her Papa then Mama, another question clambering to get out. She clasps her hands together under the table.

“What if one day I was no longer a halfling?” It’s Ulvon’s turn to look confused. “Would I cease being part of this family, for becoming something else? Is all that matters to you is whether or not I am a halfling?” Merla feels her face twist in an angry sadness she cannot stop. “Do you all hate the fey so much that it is impossible for you to see me for who I am?”

She is panting, the golden glow of her skin pulsing to her heartbeat. Merla squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head, wanting to banish the looks on her family’s faces. She is too different, too far gone down the path of the fey. In her pursuit to become stronger for the Summer Court, she has now become a burden upon the Copperkettles. This was a mistake. She should leave, yes, leave her mortal family to their mortal lives and never bother them again.

Merla pushes her chair back and gets a couple of steps from the table before Berton’s voice cuts through the room.

“You know, it’s a funny story – a friend of mine died a few years ago in a terrible accident,” he starts out, voice dry but somehow insistent, demanding Merla and everyone’s attention. “He was a land surveyor, and got caught in a landslide out on a survey in the mountains. The people who were with him dragged his mangled body out – completely unrecognisable.”

“Berton, is this really the-” Gelni began, with distaste, but her son ignored her.

“One of those people on the trip was a local druid, very in touch with nature, and said she could save him. They talked about it and decided to take the risk, and so she got to work. And she brought him back. She brought him back from the afterlife, but he came back different. She said it was the best she could do, but apparently there’s a difference between resurrection and reincarnation. So my friend left on this trip as a human, and came back in the body of a dragonborn!”

He looks around at all of them, catching Merla’s eye in particular. “So his friends, his family, his partner, they all had to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t just a little different – he was completely different.”

Ulvon nods, taking the parallel. “And so what happened, Berton?”

He laughs. “Oh they couldn’t deal with it at all. Everyone abandoned him and he now works for one of our partner companies in a totally different region of Faerûn, where no one knew him before.” He stands up quickly. “And that is why we are not letting the same thing happen again, all right?”

Berton turns to Merla, face set hard. “You have been gone for most of my life, Merla. I’m married now. And I don’t care what you look like, or where you’ve been, or why the hell you keep glowing and producing music out of nowhere – which is, frankly, creepy.” A little laugh escapes past her lips even as Merla’s eyes fill with tears. “I want you to be an aunt to my children when they arrive. And I want my sister back, in whatever form or time circumstances may allow.”

“You know… out of everything I have faced,” Merla starts, tears like crystals falling from her bright blue, forget-me-not eyes, “Giants, devils, Unseelie Fey – even the Raven Queen herself – when it came to meeting you, I didn’t know what I would do. I did not know how I would cope if, after meeting me, you wanted nothing to do with me.” She laughs, wiping at her eyes and taking a tentative step back towards them. “I want to get to know you again – or for the first time.” She smiles at Marto. “I want to get to know what your lives are like, how the pottery business is doing – what other coloured butterfly spoons have been made? I want to see the land where the forest once grew… and maybe plant something new there – perhaps a field of flowers? I want to meet your children, Berton, and teach them the beauty of creating music. I may be a fairy princess, tied up in grand adventures or fey politics most of the time, but I am Merla Copperkettle and you are my family. I would be part of it in any way I can… if you would have me.”

“Of course we want you in this family,” Gelni exclaims, rushing up around the table to join her children. “Ulvon, tell your daughter you don’t want her to leave again.”

Ulvon sighs and stands as well. “I’m sorry, Merla. I didn’t intend to offend but… yes. You’ve obviously changed. Hells, I didn’t even fully realise that you’d be all grown up and not somehow still a child when you walked in the door. But regardless of how old you are, or how tall you’ve grown, you are still my little girl, and I’ll fight Titania herself if she says different.”

Marto bursts out laughing. “I think what Pa means to say is that he’ll challenge her to a pottery contest, and even then might need someone to sabotage her wheel.”

“Hopefully an unnecessary step,” Berton says, with an exasperated sigh. He turns back to Merla. “There’s a lot to work through. And I can’t promise that there will be no ill feelings or conflicts along the way-”

“-I can’t promise they’re worth it,” chimes in Marto.

“Godsdamnit, Marto! We’re having a moment here!” Berton roars at his younger brother, and suddenly Merla is in the middle of her family, arguing and talking over each other, with Marto hiding behind her tall frame from his brother. For that brief moment, it’s like she never left – this is what family can be like.

The beautiful, sweet-sound of Merla’s laughter grows as Marto shoots quip after quip to Berton, whilst Gelni fusses over Marto’s hands tugging on Merla’s fine dress. Ulvon is trying to calm Gelni whilst also telling Berton to stop rising to Marto’s quips. They all eventually join her in laughter, so infectious was Merla’s own melodious laugh.

After several moments, they are all wiping at their eyes, this time from tears of laughter. Merla sighs contentedly.

“One day, I would like to show you the Summer Lands, they are truly beautiful.” Marto’s smile widened ever further, though the others looked more ambivalent at the prospect. “But for now, we can start with something simple. You’ve been in Daring since a little before the previous moon, but have you seen much of it? I could show you around.” Her grin gets slightly mischievous. “Maybe even take some of you on an aerial tour?”

Ulvon scratches his head nervously, and Berton leans in. “So the staff weren’t joking about Astra then?”

“If you’re not comfortable–”

“Yes!” heads turn in surprise as it’s Gelni who blurts this out. She looks a little embarrassed and puts a hand on her daughter’s arm. “I’ve always wanted to fly.”

Merla’s face lights up as she takes Gelni’s hand. “I know exactly how you feel, Mama. Come, Astra is waiting outside.”

Leading her out of their joined rooms, Merla keeps hold of Gelni’s hand as she leads the way to the Garden Door. She glances back to see if the others are following and sees Marto’s bright eyes scanning the lush green space through the windows, trying to spot Astra before the others.

“Get ready Astra.”

“I am waiting for your signal, Merla.”

She grins.

“Looks like the rain has stopped,” Merla observes. She turns to Gelni, her grin brightening as she looks into her halfling mother’s warm brown eyes. “Astra is rather large but she is very gentle, Mama. Do not be scared.”

Gelni rallied a little, “I've been around large animals my whole life. Don’t you worry about me.”

She squeezes Gelni’s hand. “Come on you three, don’t dilly dally! You’ll want to see this,” Merla calls to her brothers and father. She rests her hand on the door, giving her Mama a wink.

“Now!”

She turns the handle and opens the door.

A rush of wind and refracted light showers them all tiny rainbows as Astra, iridescent feathered wings spread wide, throws her starlight mane from one side to the other, letting out an excited whinny of greeting. Gelni instinctively steps back but Merla catches her, laughing in delight at the softly uttered ‘Yollanda’s left foot’s’ from Berton and Ulvon. Without waiting, Astra tucks her left foreleg underneath herself and bows down to the ground, her spiralling silvery horn glowing softly.

“It is a great honour to meet you, Gelni, Ulvon, Berton and Marto Copperkettle.”

“She spoke!” Berton exclaims. “She spoke in my head!”

Merla giggles, but she looks at Gelni as she speaks. “Astra is a very wise and clever partner. She has carried me safely across these lands and many others.”

“It would be my pleasure to see you fly, Gelni Copperkettle,” Astra says, still kneeling. One starlight blue eye looks at the elderly halfling.

Tentatively, she comes forward to lay a hand on Astra’s soft face. The winged unicorn slowly closes her eyes, exhaling contentedly as Gelni gently strokes her. Her face is lit with a smile that makes her look years younger. She glances back to her husband, shaking her head in disbelief, who half nods in agreement as he comes forward. Berton is still stupefied whilst Marto, mouth agape with wonder, comes to stand next to Merla.

“You are a beautiful creature,” Gelni says, turning back to Astra. “But you were right, she is so large! Merla, how am I to-”

Astra comes all the way down to the ground, laying her belly on the soft wet grass.

“I think she’s telling you to get on Ma,” Marto says with a laugh. “Go on!”

Gelni’s eyes widen but Merla is already beside her. “Here Mama, let me help you. Grab those vines.”

She gives her Mama a boost and before she knows it Gelni is perched and ready on Astra’s back. Marto was about to get on next but Ulvon steps up and both Merla and her brother have to help him. Once he was settled, Marto climbs up behind him, the biggest grin on his face.

“Berton, you coming?” he asks.

Berton slowly comes forward, looking from Astra, who stares at him unblinkingly. He stops beside Merla and turns to face her, looking at her for a long moment, breathing slowly.

“My gods,” he says quietly, gently, looking back at the unicorn his hand is on the flank of. “My sister’s a half-fey.”

“A Feyling,” corrects Marto from above, and Berton’s fist clenches, but ignores him.

“I’m glad you’re back,” is all he says to finish, seeming to be trying to grasp some more profound thing to say in the face of such a pivotal event.

Merla hugs him, letting her embrace telling him how glad she is to be back. “Thank you for being strong for them all these years,” she says softly, just for him. She gives him one last gentle squeeze before letting go.

As he gets on Astra’s back Merla pulls out a small vial of clear liquid with cloudy white impurities drifting within, and drinks it. She shivers in anticipation, her belly already filling with bubbles and feathers. Astra then stands, her powerful legs making the transition as smooth as she could with four halflings on her back. Ulvon wraps his arms around his wife to ensure she doesn’t fall off. His grey eyes are the brightest Merla has seen them yet. Berton clings to Marto who is trying to tell him to ease up a little.

“Oh!” Gelni exclaims, “This is really high.”

Merla giggles. “Just imagine how high we will be in a moment!” She shares a look with Astra and then jumps into the air.

One, two, three powerful pumps of Astra’s iridescent feathered wings and she, along with Gelni, Ulvon, Marto and Berton, take off into the sun-dappled sky. The winged unicorn follows the fae-bard, the loose fabric of Merla’s dress having formed sheer pink butterfly wings that flutter near invisible behind her.

For the next hour, Merla shows her family all the notable places in Daring Heights – from the Gilded Mirror in Castleside to the Lassitude Memorial down in Graveside, and back to Portal Plaza in the Heights – to her personal favourites – from Nerry’s Pies in Swampside over to Thia’s Refuge back in Castleside. The children wave as they pass overhead, the sun through Astra’s wings casting rainbows on their upturned faces. It is the first time her family sees a glimpse of the life she has built for herself here in this strange and weird land.

It is just a small part, but it is also just the beginning.