"I'm not wearing that.”
     "Oh yes you are, it’s a ball! You have to or you can’t go!”
     "Then I’m not going!”
     In a large bedchamber of the castle, four girls were gathered around a collection of ball gowns. One stood apart, arms folded defiantly, green eyes glinting with a challenge.
     “Scratch that. You are going, the ball’s in our honor!” a blonde girl said, holding a jewel green gown embroidered with silver.
     “I’m still not wearing that, Leandra.”
     Leandra just looked at her, exasperated. The forest elf across from her stood with her arms crossed, still filthy from traveling on the road. Leandra could tell that her companion’s tightly braided hair was in desperate need of a scrubbing, and she didn’t even want to think about what needed to be done with her riding clothes. But she was out of things to say to sway the stubborn tomboy.
     “Let me handle this,” whispered another of her companions, dark eyes shining with the promise of a plan.
     “Have fun, Chrysanna,” Leandra whispered back, relieved.
     Chrysanna rounded on the elf, the black swirls on her dark skin showing in the sunlight slanting in through the window. “Why won’t you wear the dress, Ailetra?” she asked innocently, “Afraid you’ll actually look like a girl for once?”
     “Of course not,” scoffed Ailetra.
     “Well then, what are you afraid of? A little dress?”
     “No!”
     “I dare you to wear it then!”
     “No!”
     “Coward!” joked Chrysanna, then asked dreamily, “What will Gwnan think?”
     Ailetra flushed, turning quickly away. Leandra and Chrysanna tried to suppress giggles as their fourth companion merely smiled. The sea elf’s golden eyes looked on the forest elf knowingly as Ailetra wordlessly snatched the dress and walked out.
     As soon as the door shut behind her, Leandra let out a laugh. “That was genius, Chrys! What do you think got her, the dare or Gwnan?”
     “I think we’ll find out tonight,” Chrysanna said with a smile.

     Ailetra found a tub of warm water waiting for her in her borrowed bedroom. She looked at it and sighed, allowing a smile to creep across her face now that she was alone. Placing the dress on the bed next to her weapons, she peeled off the riding leather that had seen more battles and dusty roads now than she could count. She slipped into the bath, sighing as the water enveloped her sore muscles, the rose petals floating on in slipping around her as their scent wafted up.
     Smiling, she set to scrubbing herself down with the soap she found waiting for her. As she rid herself of the layers of dirt and sweat from miles of road and many battles, she found herself beginning to hum an old lullaby. She stopped abruptly as she picked up the pattering of feet down the hallway, completely freezing, muscles tensed.
     After a moment she realized that she was safe inside the castle; all she needed to worry about was not letting anyone catch her humming. At the knock on the door, she slid back out of the water and reached for the towel waiting there.
     “Are you ready yet?” came Chrysanna’s overeager voice through the oak door.
     “No, I just got out of the bath!” she shot back tersely.
     “Well, get ready! We want to see you!” called Leandra, who seemed infected with Chrys’s excitement.
     Ailetra sighed, turning to the dress on the bed. I haven’t worn one of these in years, she thought as she apprehensively picked it up, letting the smooth silk flow over her fingers. It’s beautiful… I don’t feel worthy to wear it.
     Another shout from the door interrupted her thoughts. “We’re gonna come in soon if you don’t come out!”
     “Another minute!” she called back, annoyed. Taking a deep breath, she set about pulling on the required petticoats, lacier than anything she’d ever worn. Not like anyone’s going to see them anyways. A moment later, the dress was over her head. Finding the ties, she fumbled behind her back trying to tie them. This should not be this hard. While spinning around to try to get it to work, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
     A wave of memories crashed on her, ones that she’d successfully locked away years ago. Tears welled up in her eyes as she fought them back. She’d already cried once in front of her companions, when she thought that Gwnan had been killed; she wasn’t going to let it happen again.
     “Come on out, it can’t be that bad!” called Chrysanna.
     “You have no idea,” Ailetra responded softly, choking back the flood of tears and memories as she tore her eyes from the mirror.
     “Well, it better at least be on, because we’re coming in!” With that, the door opened, catching Ailetra uncustomarily off guard. Chrysanna and Leandra strode in, already in their gowns. Ailetra groaned softly when she saw that their more mature sea elf companion had abandoned her to their mercy. Both girls stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Ailetra, backlit by the rays of the sun beginning to slide toward the horizon. Caught in a moment of weakness, her skin looked paler, like a fragile doll’s.
     “Wow,” Chrysanna breathed, “You look wonderful all dressed up.”
     “Why would you tell us it looked bad?” Leandra asked, awestruck.
     Ailetra merely turned away, unable to explain to them what had happened in her childhood, many years ago. Chrys and Leandra, recovering from the shock of seeing their resident swordmaster all trussed up for a ball, ran over, skirts rustling, and began to poke and preen her. Ailetra squirmed uncomfortably as they fixed the sash and turned to her hair, which she had rebraided out of habit.
     Chrysanna clucked her tongue. “That braid won’t do Ailetra. This is a ball! A grand affair!” Leandra laughed at her impression of the King.
     Ailetra started to protest, but the girls had already set upon it, pulling and brushing and working out all the tangles.
     “There we go,” said Chrysanna proudly. “Now we just need to figure out what to do with it.
     Ailetra glanced in the mirror again before she could stop herself. Again the memories rolled in, fast and vicious as a thunderstorm over the plain. She barely heard Chrysanna and Leandra talking about various necklaces and jewelry for her and what to do with her waist-long black hair.
     “Ailetra? Don’t you have a necklace? A silver one?” Chrysanna asked, snapping her from her reverie.
     “No, no I don’t,” she quickly denied.
     “Wait, I remember you pulling it out one night while on watch,” Leandra said slowly, then added softly, “You looked like you were about to cry.”
     Completely ignoring the second sentence, Chrysanna declared, “Yes, wear that one. It’ll go perfectly with the silver in the dress.”
     Ailetra, resigned to the idea and unwilling to fight their never-ending enthusiasm any longer, went to fetch the necklace. She quickly closed her hand around the cool star-metal, refusing to look at it again before handing it to Chrysanna. She deftly wrapped the chain around Ailetra’s neck and worked the small clasp.
     “It’s gorgeous,” Leandra said reverently as she watched the metal glow.
     “It’s star-metal,” Ailetra explained flatly, “It glows with its own light. My father gave it to my mother on their wedding day.”
     “Oh, that’s so sweet,” squealed Chrysanna, reaching out to touch the simple pendant. “I love romantic stories.”
     “It was a sentence, Chrys, hardly a story.”
     “Yes, but I can just imagine the rest of it –”
     “But please keep it to yourself.” Ailetra shot in, unwilling to hear her friend wax romantic about her own parents.
     “Alright,” Chrysanna pretended to pout, “I won’t tell you then.”
     “Come on, we should see how the guys are doing,” Leandra suggested as she glided towards the door, graceful and confident back in her own castle. Winking, she added, “Wouldn’t want to be caught without our escorts.”
     Chrysanna turned to leave, then called back, “Coming, Ailetra?”
     “In a minute,” she replied, waiting for their footsteps and laughter to fade down the hallway before rising to face the mirror.
     She stood tall and stately, her face framed by smooth, straight locks of midnight-black hair, except one strand that fell across her face. The dress had somehow transformed her; she felt uncomfortable, like she was looking at another person.
     Which I am, she realized, as the memories returned. This time, she let them come, closing her eyes to face them.

     In the depths of the forest, in a village in the trees, the forest elves lived and played and loved. One day, Ailetra’s brother raced home, holding his wooden sword aloft, face alit with glee. Glancing up from her failed attempt at embroidery, Ailetra’s sharp eyes immediately went to his throat, and they narrowed into slits. Her mother’s eyes had seen it too, the necklace that was the mark of the swordsman, and the lit up with pride.
     “Oh, my little boy!” she cried, gathering him into a hug. He jumped around, not to be contained long by her arms. “Your father will be so proud.”
     “I already showed him, Mom!” the boy explained with glee. “He was at the school!”
     “Well, when he gets home, we’ll all celebrate.”
     The sight made Ailetra sick. Her mother wore the same necklace that her brother had just earned, a gift from her father. It was a medallion with powerful protective magic, traditionally bestowed upon loved ones when the swordsman went to battle. Her father’s bore an extra symbol, proving him a swordsmaster. For the half-century she’d been alive (elves age slowly relative to humans), she’d wanted that honor more than anything.
     “Ailetra, have you finished your embroidery?” her mother asked, returning to look at the tangled mess of colored threads. “Oh, dear. You’ve tangled all your threads again.” She gently took it and sat down, beginning to work on the knots. “Here, I’ll help you take this out and start again.”
     Ailetra pouted with her chin resting on her hands. “But I’m never going to be good at this, Mother. I want to train with the swordsmen.”
     A pained look passed across her mother’s face for a moment, before her kind, patient countenance returned. “Dear, you must learn to cook, clean, and keep house. Leave the swordplay to the boys.”
     Ailetra didn’t respond, looking longingly at her brother and his friends sparring in the clearing. I know I can be better than all of them, she thought. I can be the best ever.

     Ailetra felt tears roll down her face, remembering her mother that day in a soft green dress, long black hair cascading down her back. Before she could stop them, more memories crashed in.

     Her father knelt before her brother. “You take care of your mother while I’m gone. You’re the man of the house now.” He gave his son a quick hug before turning to his daughter.
     “What can I do, Father?” she asked excitedly.
     “Do what your mother tells you to.”
     “But I want to learn the sword.”
     He paused for a moment, glancing at her mother. He sighed, and turned back to her with a smile. “Alright. As long as you listen to your mother and keep up your other duties, you may train.”
     “Oh, thank you, Father!” Ailetra cried, the force of her hug nearly knocking her father off-balance. She pulled back and looked in his eyes, “I’m going to be the best swordsmaster ever, I promise.”
     He laughed as he stood up to leave, “I bet you will, my dear. I bet you will.”

     The memories were too much now, too quick, too emotional. The last time she saw them: her father, her mother, her brother, all taken from her too soon. She looked one last time at her reflection, a mirror image of her mother, of the person her mother had wanted her to be.
     Ailetra buried her face in her hands as she fell upon the bed, sobs shaking her body. It seemed that no amount of tears could cleanse the blood from her hands, no amount of revenge could bring her back.
     Ailetra of the Tilequen, fearless swordsmaster, one of the Saviors of Aretra, the Prophesied Ones, lay on a bed, crying, feeling entirely alone.