((I know, I shouldn't start another fanfic without finishing the first one, but I'm gonna anyways. This one's better, in my opinion.))
Summary: No summary; I'm not quite sure what will happen myself.
Reflections: Existance and Impossibility
My parents named me Valkyrie. A strong name, they reasoned, befitting one who would need to be strong all her life. Valkyrie Shardae Cobriana, only the third person in all our history to bear such a surname. The first was Oliza, daughter of Danica and Zane several hundred years ago. The second was my mother, Arinza, our beloved wyvern queen. Strong, graceful, beautiful, diplomatic- and yet, cursed. The descendants of Hai and Nicias still live in the Wyvern’s Court, and the magic falcons term mongrel and unstable has served my family well. But their ancestor Hai was the strongest weaver of sakkri, and she saw the first true wyvern queen after Salem Cobriana became Diente. That queen is the one who will, finally, bring the Avians and Serpiente together. And it is not my mother. So despite everything, she doubts herself. It is as if she waits for disaster to strike. There are others who know of Hai’s vision, of course. And many of those believe that cataclysm is already brewing…in me.
I shouldn’t exist. Or, at least, if I exist then the rest of the world should be in flames. Daughter of a wyvern and a falcon, there is no possible way I can live without causing destruction. But I have survived until my twenty-third year without extreme mishap. Why? How can this be possible, for one who posesses both Ahnmik and Anhamirak’s magic not to have lost control in over two decades? It’s fairly simple: I was bound at birth. Despite all her misgivings, Arinza wanted to try and have a child. She was deeply in love with Talisian, one of the falcons who lives in the Court. Actually, he is only half falcon- the other half is white viper. So I suppose I am the child of two wyverns, and in me the magic of the four races is mixed in equal part. I would guess that it is Maeve’s contribution which made it possible for my parents, working together for several weeks after my birth, to bind my innate power. Now, all the magic that I might have wielded is safely sealed inside a set of four huge boulders, which were then placed in a deep cave inside one of the Court’s hills. Even I do not know how to get there, but then I don’t need to.
Even without my magic, it’s still safe to say that I am the strangest person born in this court. I have a hawk’s golden eyes and a viper’s white-blond eyebrows, an unnerving combination. Along with my blue-streaked black hair, gift of falcon and cobra lineage, it makes for a startling appearance. And, too often, that’s exactly what I do: startle people. Both Avians and Serpiente love and respect my mother. They greet her mate with cordial caution, always keeping their distance. But I receive neither treatment. I am a freak and a danger; I deserve neither respect nor cordiality. The people that I hope to rule in the future regard me with distrust and suspicion, sometimes bordering on open hatred. Avians see me as twice over a serpent, first as a cobra and then as one of the reclusive and dangerous Obsidian Guild- though I have yet to meet a member of that group. It doesn’t help that many remember Adelina, the white viper who tried to kill Danica Shardae in the beginning. And Serpiente regard me as even more untrustworthy, a bearer of falcon blood. Even hundreds of years have not brought the light of acceptance to all people, and there are many who believe it would be better to return to war, or just unsteady peace, rather than to put such a being as me on the throne.
I don’t blame them.
I never really made an attempt to reach out, to win people’s hearts. I was raised to be careful at all times, wary of myself and others. I did my best to appreciate the performances of Serpiente dancers, but somehow their movements never drew me. Avian artisans used to bring me beautiful things- jewelry or clothing, perhaps a painting for my wall- but no more. I have no eye for such items. There are some who would say I simply have no soul. As years passed, I became a terrible recluse. I don’t walk the city anymore, and my only companions are the elite guards assigned to protect me (though from what I’ve never been quite sure) and a single lady-in-waiting. Her title, though, should be Official Friend to the Princess, because that’s who she is. My best companion, and one of two people in the entire court I count my friend.
Kaliel is a sparrow, light of wing and of heart. She always sees the best in people, a talent I envy. Somehow, I am more drawn to faults. But if I listen to Kaliel, it’s easier to remember that flaws are not everything a person posesses. And it’s not like she’s hard to listen to- she talks nonstop most of the time, in a pleasant voice with a hint of music just below the surface. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve told her that she should be a professional singer. But even hundreds of years haven’t mellowed the famed Avian reserve, and whenever I suggest such a thing my friend simply blushes and changes the subject. Sometimes, I wonder whether she has something to hide- perhaps one person she truly would like to sing for, but is too shy to approach. I think she feels some attraction for one of my guards, but I’m not sure. How could I be? It’s not like such emotions are familiar to me.
The second person I count as a friend is my weapons trainer, a goshawk Mistari only four years older than I am. But the Mistari are well-versed in weapons, now that their lands are being encroached upon by a human empire. His name is Rendei, and despite the fact that he rarely speaks more than ten words at a time, I enjoy his company. He doesn’t judge me based on my appearance or my heritage or my presumed future. As far as Rendei is concerned, the only thing that matters is whether or not I can shoot a bow and parry a blade- both of which I can do, though I excell at the former and am only passable at the latter. According to Rendei, I should do my best to stay out of close combat. Whenever he says this, I laugh and assure him that I will probably never need any of these skills. He doesn’t believe me. I suppose, considering his family history, it makes sense. Having one’s entire village burnt to the ground by human raiders must make one fairly cautious and pessimistic.
Between Kaliel and Rendei, I get by fairly well. Of course, this is only within palace walls- force me outside and I would fall apart. Even at formal functions, I just sit behind my parents and look calm, and that takes all I have. I can feel their eyes on me, waiting, waiting…waiting for me either to change or to make a mistake. Waiting, some of them, for an excuse…I suppose, as I think about that, that my guards aren’t so unusual after all. But I still believe that what I need most protection from is not my people, nor any external threat.
It is myself.
I have no access to my power, but have been trained to use it anyway- hence the blue streaks in my hair. And sometimes, I feel it tugging at me, beckoning. I think, maybe, I could follow that tug…let it take me to where my magic is bound and break the bindings. And then…I don’t know. That’s what scares me the most, that I can’t imagine a point past when I regain my power. Destruction, I suppose, would result- but somehow I can’t picture it. It makes me wonder whether the destruction would include me.
I shouldn’t exist.
I am an impossibility.
And yet…I do exist.
For how much longer can this charade continue?
How long can I resist the siren’s call from within the hill?
And when I do give in…what will happen?
