Splitting up

Roland hated the idea. Abhored it. He didn't want to go! And yet, he couldn't see any way around it.

They needed someone familiar with the Void and its habits. Women were ruled out entirely, and his father needed to stay and rule Rhone.  Lysander was barely able to function since he was so exhausted from the nightmares and attacks from the void.

This would be an indefinite absence; who knew how long it would take to find Edmar and bring him back? Who knew what they would find in that world on the land, if they could even find it again? 

Would there be inhabitants? Would they be violent? Would the whole voyage be lost to the sea before arrival? All of it seemed like a terrible idea. 

Roland sat at the table in his hut, pouring out his heart to his sweet wife in a letter. Would she be angry at him for leaving? Time was of the essence. He would probably be gone from this world by the time she received the message. There would be no response for him before he left. 

He wondered how badly it would haunt him if he died not knowing if she were upset with him for making this enormous choice without her. 

He smiled a little sadly. She couldn't be angry, not at him. Maybe at the situation. But if the Void was on the move, he had to help stop it, for the sake of their entire world, including their three precious children. At least if he died, she wouldn't be alone. The Shermans would help her, and his father, and Finn's father, and the Cetoans as well. 

He'd spoken to his newfound aunt and uncle of his children, showing them Finn's sketches of the babies. They were suitably in awe of the children…

Although, when Cora asked innocently which had been born first, it dawned on him that two lines of succession may lay at the tiny feet of his newborns, if he should die. 

It gave him that much more drive to live. He had to protect his children from the weight of the world, including leadership, for as long as he possibly could. 

A slow sob built in his chest, but he suppressed it. There was no reason for his feelings of doom. He had been to the Darkness before and survived, and by all accounts the pink-sky world was far less dangerous than that. It was reportedly eerily beautiful. 

He hummed Songslet's lullaby to himself in comfort as he finished writing the letter. He kissed the paper, then folded and sealed it. He laid it beside the reports to Klain's Council, having saved the emotional letter for last. 

His father would soon go back to Klain, and hug Finn, and kiss all the babies on Roland's behalf. 

That helped a little. Duncan could explain everything to Finn that she didn't understand already. 

Dierdre had elected to take Lysander home to Klain along with Duncan. The man had improved enough to travel, but she still feared whatever was the cause of his illness in the first place. 

The most surprising addition to the party returning to Klain was Caspian. After much discussion between Haf and Cora, it was decided that he and Naomi should go reside there for a time to strengthen diplomatic relations between the nations, and finalize a treaty between them.

After all, Klain and Rhone had sent current and future leaders to Ceto. They reasoned it was in the interests of diplomacy to reciprocate. 

Roland also had his suspicions that since the Commodore and himself were potentially moving headlong into danger, it was prudent to send the next in line for leadership to a safe place to garner stronger allies… and meet his cousin's children. 

It chafed him deeply, the idea that his newborn babies were likely being sized up for a fate they had not chosen and he didn't want for them. Perhaps he should write an addendum to his letter; if he should die, Finn should take the babies and flee somewhere far. 

Living a quiet farming life would surely be better for his children than the pressures of both Rhone and Ceto looking at them like resources rather than as people. 

The Cetoan ships, for since Edmar had three, Haf thought it wise to do the same, would be ready to sail at the next tide. Roland had never fully unpacked after his arrival in Ceto, and so it only took him a few minutes to gather his things. 

Stepping outside, it didn't take him long to find his father. He handed him the stack of reports and the long letter for Finn with a heavy heart. 

"I'll take care of them, don't worry," Duncan gave him an encouraging nod. 

"The letters, or the people?" Roland responded wryly. 

"You know I'll do both. I will have the letters sent with the messenger today, and follow behind them soon." The king smiled. "This voyage… be safe, will you? I know we've gone to war before, but this is different. We had generations in the Darkness before we understood its twists, tricks, and all the hidden dangers, and not even fully then. This unknown world, these lands never visited…" 

"Yes. It will be strange." Roland agreed. He couldn't pretend he hadn't been thinking very insistent thoughts at Gwen, in case she were listening. Finn had admitted to a similar habit in the past. When she was particularly stressed, she even spoke out loud to the Fae. 

She always insisted that they could hear thoughts, even far away, and that they watched most of what was going on in the world. 

He hoped they would be able to watch what happened in the Pink Sky World, as he had mentally christened it, and intervene on his behalf if he needed the help. 

Then again, they hadn't helped him at any prior time, at least not directly. He met Gwen when she was retrieving Gabe and taking the young lad to safety. The elusive being had helped Finn after that, but every time Roland interacted with her was as a consequence of Finn's actions or presence. 

Perhaps he wasn't worthy of direct help… or, he admittedly sheepishly, perhaps he was too central to the world's events to be allowed to receive direct help. 

That was one of their principles, wasn't it? Gwen had left him behind with the Rhone because he had things to do there. She couldn't change things that people might readily attribute to the Fae. 

Thankfully, humans in general, even in the face of a magical attacking Void-being, seemed reluctant to believe in any other non-human beings. 

"You have more to live for now, than you did before," Duncan remarked, more to himself than to his son. Roland knew all too well what he was risking in his leaving. 

"When you see Finn... if she's mad at me, buy her a present, will you? A fine set of drawing pencils and paints, and smooth paper and canvas. Let her know I don't want to miss a single moment with her or our children, and the more she can capture for me, the better."

Roland treasured the sketches of his babies. He wished he also had one of Finn herself, but her face was so ingrained into his memory that he needed no reminder of it. 

"I'll buy it on the way to see her." Duncan promised. 

Roland still used the writing set that was Finn's very first gift to him, for his twenty-first birthday. 

"Thank you, Father," The prince choked up slightly. 

"Is there anything else you need me to do?" The king asked. 

Roland shook his head, and the two shared a manly hug before Roland shouldered his bag and headed for the shoreline, leaving his father behind. 

"I don't want to do this," He admitted to himself again, quietly. A breeze pushed his hair back from his face, cool and gentle. 

"If it helps, I don't want you to do it, either," Caspian spoke from where he was leaning against a tree. "I'd trade places with you easily, Cousin." 

Roland gave a slightly chagrined smile at having his thoughts overheard. 

"You'd be better qualified than I on a voyage in most ways," Roland sighed, "but unfortunately, what we want to do and what we are supposed to do is often quite different." 

Caspian frowned at that, but nodded slowly. 

"If it turns out for the best, I suppose we cannot complain about what passes." 

"There are plenty of people who will complain regardless, but I see what you are saying," Roland agreed. 

"I wish you well on your first overworld voyage," Caspian said, pushing away from the tree. "It is a tradition to give a small gift when one embarks on his first journey as a man." 

He held out a compass, small and compact, but well-made. 

"It was my first. You may have your own, but this one is good luck." The Commodore's son made a slight face that let Roland know the man didn't really believe in luck, but it was a kind gesture regardless. 

"Thank you," Roland smiled at his new cousin's thoughtfulness. 

"The tradition is completed upon your return, when you give me your first catch to prove you have truly become a man." Caspian looked at him significantly. 

Roland heard the underlying message clearly. Come back safely, and bring Edmar, too.