A Little Bit in You

Amberle Elessedil knows that one way or another, she isn't going to see the dawn.

There's only two ways that this can end. The first is that she dies tonight, that be it through sword, spear, or axe, a demon will cut her down, her blood feeding the grass of the Westland. With the loss of her life comes the loss of the Bloodfire, and through it, the loss of all hope for Arborlon, and indeed, the entirety of the Four Lands after it. She dies, and the world as she knows it dies with her.

The other way this ends is that she succeeds. She becomes the new Ellcrys and restores the Forbidding. She does this, she loses everything. Home. Family. Friends. Hope, or at least, the hope of a normal life. Growing up as the granddaughter of Eventine Elessedil, and third in line for the elven throne, "normal" for her was a very different sort of normal for most elves, or indeed, most people. But for her, that was normal. Being a princess was normal. Even becoming one of the Chosen was normal, at least in her mind. But to be the Ellcrys, that is the end of her life. The end of normal. The end of ever having this feeling again. To feel Wil against her. To feel his breath on her hair. To feel two sets of heartbeats, and know not which is hers. It is why, as night falls, she still stays here. If she moves, she must return to the Ellcrys. If she moves, she takes her last steps upon this earth. If she moves, the end begins for her.

But if she doesn't? There is always the third option, that to simply flee. To head north, south, even west, and live life as best she could. To stay alive as her people and culture die, and the Four Lands perish in turn. To leave the world to be ravaged by demons, as it was in the Age of Faye. To turn her back on everything good and whole, so that she might live life as she knows it.

She won't do it. Her heart is still beating, and her heart wouldn't allow such a thing. And the heart beating against hers…she isn't so sure. She cannot fault Wil Ohmsford's devotion, but is that devotion to the Four Lands, or to her? Devotion to one doesn't rule out devotion to the other, but even so…

"Amberle," he hears her whisper.

She screws her eyes shut, a tear trickling down the side of her cheek. She doesn't want to hear his voice right now, because she knows what he's going to say.

"Amberle, we should move."

Right on cue, she reflects. "Just a little longer," she whispers.

"Amberle, the demons have moved on. We've got a straight line to Arborlon."

"There may still be stragglers. We go now, we risk much more than if we leave later."

"Amberle-"

"Trust me Wil." She rolls over and looks into his eyes, hoping that in the gloom, he doesn't see what's inside hers. "A little longer, then we'll be free."

He doesn't look convinced, so she kisses him softly. "Trust me," she whispers. "Just a little longer."

He does trust her. Bless him, he absolutely trusts her. He doesn't even know what she's keeping from him. He doesn't know that if his body isn't broken in the battle ahead, his spirit would be. He doesn't know how much she wants to tell him, how close she's come, but always held back from doing so. If he knew that she, Amberle Elessedil, the girl he's fallen in love with, will come to the end of her life one way or another this night, he wouldn't take another stop to Arborlon. He'd say that there had to be another way. That he'd find another way. The elves would hold the line, Allanon would work a miracle, and in that brief span of time, he'd find a way to restore the Forbidding while allowing her to remain an elf. He wouldn't comprehend that time's run out for all of them. That the Forbidding must be restored this night, or otherwise, all will be lost.

He doesn't know any of this. But he does know something. She can see it in his eyes. She can feel it in his chest, still pressed against hers. She can taste it on his tongue as their lips interlock again and again. And when they collapse, just lying against each other, their bodies keeping them warm against the night's chill…she can sense it.

"Amberle," he whispers.

She can hear it in his voice as well.

"When you said that we might not have time earlier…"

Did she? She did, she recalls. When they took shelter in this burrow, when she came as close to revealing the truth as she ever has. Yes, she said that.

"You know we'll make it, don't you? We'll restore the Forbidding, and then…"

"And then?" she whispers.

"And then…well…" He chuckles. "Sorry, hadn't thought that far ahead."

She can't help but laugh as well – she hasn't thought that far ahead because there isno "far ahead" for her. "Tell me about it," she whispers.

"Amberle?"

"Think ahead," she says. "Just…imagine it."

She closes her eyes and moves closer against him.

"Well…" he says. "Guess the first thing we have to do is find Eretria."

Eretria. By all that's holy, she'd forgotten about her. Still, while she won't ever see the Rover girl again, she hopes she's still alive.

"And then, well, guess we'll have to do the…thing."

"The thing," Amberle says in a deadpan.

"The thing. Like, you tell your uncles, I tell my uncle, we get ready to live in a world that's got no shortage of prejudice."

Amberle can't contest that assessment.

"But we make it," Wil says. "Arborlon, Shady Vale, Storlock anywhere…Westland, Eastland, Southland, even the Northland…we'll have a place. The two of us. And we won't have to give a damn what anyone thinks about a human and elf living together, because we're worth that and…Amberle?"

She's been quiet up until now, so she doesn't know what's got his attention like that.

"Amberle, you're crying."

She is. Tears have been pouring from her eyes like the mouth of the Silver River, and she hasn't even known it. She's been so caught up in what will never be, that she's lost sight of what's happening now.

"Amberle, what's wrong?"

"Oh Wil, it's…" She kisses him again, but he doesn't return it. Fighting back her tears, fighting back the urge to come clean, she feigns a laugh and runs her hand across his right ear. "Elf and human," she whispers. "Aren't you a bit of both? Half-elf and all that."

"Well, technically, but-"

"Technically!" she exclaims – she can't control her fate, but she can control the conversation. "Half elf on technicality. Not half human."

"Amberle?"

"But I mean, everything's got a bit of human in them don't they?" she whispers. "Dwarves, gnomes, trolls…all coming back to mankind. All to the Great Wars."

Wil gives her a look. It's not that hard to play the "your ancestors destroyed the world" card in conversation with a human, and he's probably suffered enough prejudice already with his elven blood.

"No human blood in me though," Amberle says. "Elves are a race apart. Here from the beginning."

"I know," Wil murmurs.

He looks uneasy and with a sad smile, Amberle kisses him. But she doesn't fall back to the ground. Instead, she brings her mouth round to his ear – an elven ear attached to a human face. And into it, in the spur of the moment, in what is among the last of her moments on this earth, she whispers, "but I wouldn't mind some human in me."

She's actually not sure if he's going to get it. Because yes, there's no human blood in her. People like Shea and Wil Ohmsford are the exception, not the rule for both their kinds. But as she falls back to the ground, as she looks into his eyes…Wil gets it, she can tell. He absolutely gets it.

"Amberle?"

And bless him, he's playing the gentleman, even on what could be the last day of the world.

"I mean it Wil," she whispers.

"Amberle, that's…I mean…"

"If we're going to die this night…I want to live Wil. Please."

She wants to live. She's known that ever since Safehold, but in this moment…she means it. She absolutely means it. She's ashamed that what she's requesting is perhaps the only thing that's keeping her from running away again. She…she wants to know what it feels like, before the chance for such sensations is forever lost to her.

But Wil's starting to get up. And she can't blame him. They've got precious hours left, and they've spent more time in this burrow than they'd had to.

"Wil."

But be it a few minutes, she wants this. She needs it. So she takes Wil's hand, and brings it against her cheek. With her fingers in his, she brings it down, making note to rub them against her ear. The ear that is like his, the symbol of the birthright that is theirs.

"You said we're worth it Wil," she whispers.

She brings their hand down further. Down her neck. Down over her breast.

"And if we are, what we do now doesn't matter."

She keeps drawing his hand down. Down her stomach. Down past her belly button. Down to the space between her legs – for now, still closed.

"But if we die, then at least let us say we lived."

She hopes Wil Ohmsford doesn't suppose that she's so shallow that she believes the act which she is suggesting is the only thing that makes life worth living. But then, she knows how much life is worth. Right now, she's more aware of it than she's been in her entire life. And how appropriate, she thinks, that if her life is going to end, if she's fated to bloom, that one of her last acts upon this earth is her deflowering.

Wil doesn't say anything, but she sees it. Confusion. Apprehension. But he is not so much a gentleman that he can't hide what there is of his desire, nor can he hide his love for her. He knows that, in this moment, she wants this. She knows that in this moment, she's willing to oblige. So it is in silence that they prepare, in this moment of understanding. It is in silence that he lets him get atop her, once again feeling his heart against hers. It is in silence that she kisses him, and in silence that she spreads her legs.

I suppose our anatomy is similar enough, it should be easy enough to-

She feels it. And all questions of anatomy, of righteousness, of virtue, become irrelevant. All that is left for her is two things – one, the future, and whatever awaits her. Two, the present, and the feeling it entails.

How long it lasts, she cannot say. Not so long that she's doomed her people in her dalliance, not so long that she can ever be completely fulfilled. She closes her eyes, as her tongue flutters, and as ambrosia passes between her legs. She gasps, and assures Wil that she's alright. She weeps, as she dreams of what might have been. As she thinks of what enters her. As she thinks of the life that may be forming inside her. As she thinks of what life she could have had, with Wil, and whatever may come from this union. She begins to giggle as she thinks that yes, she now does have some human inside her. And then, eventually, she thinks of nothing, for all that is left is the moment. All that is left is the pleasure. All that is left is this last moment of living.

But eventually, the moment, drawn out over what might be a lifetime, ends. The moment stops. The pleasure stops. All that is left is the feeling of two rapidly beating hearts against each other. Of sweat in her hair, and the sight of Wil Ohmsford looking down at her. Smiling, she kisses him, even as her flower closes. Still smiling, they lie against each other, knowing that yes, they really, really, really need to get going, but…

"Have some human inside me now," Amberle whispers. "Wasn't too bad."

Wil snorts and she smiles. He hopes that in time, he'll be able to look back on this moment and not hate her. And she hopes that in whatever awaits for her, as she becomes the guardian of the Forbidding, this moment, this feeling, will stay in her.

She hopes so.

For after all, do not all trees start akin to flowers?