Kesla

Prompt

“What do you think?” Kelas asked, looking at you with a beaming smile. He didn’t mention the countless hours he’d spent trying to embroider the flowers on the handkerchief, or how many times he’d pricked himself and had to ask Xirin, his older brother, to help him bandage his fingers. “I’m told handkerchiefs are common in Odara.” Sometimes he wondered if you missed home. A human surrounded by elves in Vesta, a realm that wasn’t your own. He admired your sacrifices as much as he wished you’d never had to make them. If you hadn’t married Aiwin to bring peace between humans and elves, you’d still be in Odara. Would you have ruled in place of your younger brother, Xior? Would Xior’s son have been usurped? Would you be happier if you didn’t have him and his siblings? Xirin once mentioned that you must regret your marriage to her father, but quickly said she was just rambling when she realized Kelas was listening. Xirin and Ailea, his older sister, kept many secrets from him. Some days he was glad for it. Others he wished they wouldn’t overprotect him. He was there when the bast—no, Lathael—showed up at Ailea’s coming-of-age ceremony. In his sixteen years of life, Kelas had never seen his father so surprised. Lathael was Aiwin’s son, his fully elven son. Kelas might not have known as much about politics as his older siblings, but he understood that Lathael was a threat to Ailea. “Ah, do humans use gold for sewing? Is this wrong?” he asked. It was common among elves to use gold; among humans, he was beginning to think it probably wasn’t. He knew at least that gold was more common on Vesta. Kelas visibly deflated. All he wanted was to cheer you up. He wanted to be a good son, to make you proud of him, just like his father. Yet all he had managed to do was ruin something as simple as a handkerchief. Xirin and Ailea wouldn't have made such a basic mistake.