FicWad

My father died when I was nine. My mother died giving birth to me, and sometimes I wondered if, deep in their hearts, my siblings blamed me for her death. Especially Sinag, since a babaylan was supposed to pass on her magic and knowledge to her successor in a special rite. My existence deprived my sister of the rite of transition she deserved. But Sinag never breathed a word of blame or condemnation. Instead, she immediately took me under her wing, instructing me and making sure I grew up a proper young lady. She and Tia Isabel, Mother's older sister, became my mother for me.

Sinag and Habagat may have forgiven me for taking our mother away but surely not, I thought, for killing our father as well. I ran away from home again that day, driven by grief and fear and a deep, crushing shame. It was my fault that man had been offended and quarreled with Tatay/, my fault that /Tatay had been forced to challenge him to defend our family's honor. And now, Habagat had gone to avenge our father's death, and I was terrified that the man who had killed my father was going to kill my brother as well. The thought that it was I who put that sick, haunted look on my sister's face and the trembling in Tia Isabel's hands was more than I could bear.

I ran through the forest, following a trail I knew quite well by then. It led to the shrine of the Diwata of the Mountain, a cave hollowed out of the mountain's flank, widening into a cavern with a lake, on the other side of which was the image of the Diwata carved in the stone. The flickering flames of a hundred candles lit the cave at all times, many of them without the benefit of actual candles, and the sweet scent of flowers always hung in the air. All these I knew only from what my sister told me, however, as I was forbidden to enter the cave on pain of getting gobbled up by the Diwata's Guardian. I knelt on the grass in front of the cave, gazing into the mysterious black depths. I'd intended to beg the Diwata to protect my brother, but instead I found myself crumpling on the ground, crying too hard to form a single coherent word.

A shadow fell over me, and I looked up. There he was, crouching in front of me, looking even more handsome in the sunlight. Skyblade, the elf-prince. His golden eyes darkened with concern. "Amihan?"

Without a thought, I threw myself against him, buried my face in his lap, and bawled my heart out. After a moment's hesitation, he lifted me in his arms and rubbed my back in soothing circles. He let me cry for a while then pushed me away gently, raising my face to his. "Tell me," he commanded.

In a halting voice and interrupted often by damp hiccups, I told him about Tatay's visit to the neighboring town to sell some wood to a woodcarver. Against Tia Isabel's advice, he'd decided to bring Sinag and me along. The woodcarver happened to have two sons just a bit older than us, and the woodcarver invited us to spend a few days at his house. Everything was fine until the woodcarver's younger son made the mistake of calling my sister and me stupid, devil-worshipping witches. I punched the ignorant ass on the nose and he ran crying to his father, dripping blood all over the floor. His father sought out my father, and a tremendous argument about "shame and disgrace" and "defending my daughter's honor" ensued. The argument ended with a challenge, which the woodcarver naturally lost, our father being the strongest warrior in three provinces. But the woodcarver had something our father did not: a gun. Sinag and I had been banished to the house during the fight, but the single, thunderous crack had us running out to find Tatay sprawled on the ground, shot in the back.

And now, mere days after Tatay's burial, Habagat had gone to hunt down his killer, invoking the warrior's tradition of the blood price. When Tatay had been felled with such ridiculous ease, how could Habagat hope to win?

"It's all my fault!" I sobbed into Skyblade's shirt. "I shouldn't have punched that boy. I should have kept my temper like Ate Sinag told me to. It's my fault Tatay's dead and now maybe /Kuya/, too. I wish--I wish that man had shot me instead!"

"That's enough, Amihan." He gave my shoulders a firm shake until he was sure he had my attention. "Enough of these thoughts of death. Punching a boy is a cause for embarrassment and remorse but not disgrace that requires a blood price to repair. There's more to this unfortunate tale than you know. There's no need for this harsh judgment upon yourself. It wasn't all your fault."

I scrubbed at my tears and frowned. "But Tatay said...I thought..."

He gave a long sigh. "You weren't the only one who had difficulty with the woodcarver's sons, you know. Your sister has learned that words of affection are not always the same as respect. It's always a painful lesson, and this time it came with a terrible price."

"Ate Sinag?" The idea that my brilliant, infallible sister had made a mistake was simply incomprehensible. Then I suddenly remembered the odd glances she and the older boy had shared, the whispered exchanges, the harshly muffled argument I heard outside the window in the dead of night. Anger for the wrong my sister suffered filled me, driving away the incapacitating guilt. Turned out I'd punched the wrong son, after all.

"Amihan, look at me." I did, and nearly jumped at the intensity in his eyes. "Your sister is as hurt and wounded as you. Don't use this knowledge to hurt her even more."

No/, I thought. /No, of course I won't/. If my sister believed that it was her fault /Tatay died, then she probably felt as horrible as I did. Besides, who's to say it that wasn't still partly my fault? After all, I did bloody that boy's nose. What father wouldn't seek retribution when his sons were treated so by the people he had so generously shared his home with? No matter what his sons had done, it was we who had broken the sacred rules of hospitality and challenged our host. It had been our choice to stay in that house when we could have simply left. Strangely enough, my heart seemed to lighten a bit with my new understanding. Maybe if I told my sister about the part I played in this catastrophe, she wouldn't feel so alone either. Poor /Ate Sinag/, I thought as I started to cry again, not out of shame this time but out of deep, wounded sorrow for the loss of both my father and my sister's innocence.

As if reading my thoughts, Skyblade smiled gently. "You have a kind heart, Amihan, and wisdom beyond your years."

I sniffled. "I'd rather have Tatay back. And I still don't know why Kuya had to go flying off like that. Nobody should have to die just because of a stupid quarrel. It's not as if Kuya's blood price could undo this whole mess."

"People always find reasons for the things they do," he said wryly. "Try to understand, Amihan. Your father's death has forced your brother to become a man before he is ready to do so. And he has chosen to be a warrior, like his father before him. Perhaps more than any other, a warrior is bound by the role he has chosen for himself, because strength is worthless when it is uncontrolled. He must fulfill the code of the warrior to be able to call himself one. More than the obligation of avenging your father, your brother needs this--this quest in order to forge the man he wants to be out of the boy that he still is. Right or wrong, his honor compels him to do it."

"Then you agree with him?" I said, aghast. "You think this blood price is right?"

He shook his head. "I didn't say that. Like you, I think it's foolish and wasteful for anyone to die because of wounded pride. But I know how it is to be bound by rules set by those with far more understanding than you. Honor is more than just blustering arrogance and inflated dignity, Amihan. Honor means holding yourself to the truth within you. It's what your brother is seeking, whether he's aware of it or not."

I cocked my head, intrigued by this glimpse into my elf-prince's world. "What do you mean you're 'bound by rules,' Skyblade?"

He suddenly grinned and stood, picking me up as easily as if I was a babe. "What I mean, kitten, is that you ask a lot of questions. And I've spoken enough for today. Come on, I'll take you back home."

"I don't want to go home," I whined, tightening my arms around his neck. "I want to stay here with you."

"Not here, you don't," he retorted lightly. "You don't want another run-in with the maligno like last time, do you?"

"But this is the Diwata's shrine. If the maligno hurt me, the Guardian will rip them apart. Besides, you're here, Skyblade. No maligno would stand a chance against you," I added, not above using flattery to get my way.

It was apparently a tactic he was already familiar with. He looked at me in surprise, then burst out laughing. "Stubborn, persistent and bloodthirsty as well. You amaze me, Amihan."

"So this means I can stay here with you?" I asked hopefully, and promptly ruined my own case by yawning.

He laughed again and, to my delight, pressed a light kiss on my nose. "Nice try, kitten. I'm taking you back so you can get some rest. You're exhausted."

"Skyblade?"

"Yes?"

"You'll help my brother, won't you? You'll keep him safe, won't you?"

He stopped, and our gazes met, mine pleading, his grave. "Do you ask this of me, Amihan?" he said quietly, and something in his expression told me that my answer weighed far more heavily upon him than I could understand.

Swallowing, I nodded. He closed his eyes, then his lips curved slowly upward in a smile I had never seen before. "Then it is done."

My spirits lifted. My brother was safe; Skyblade would protect him. With a sigh, I snuggled back in his arms, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "I love you, Skyblade," I sighed.

Just before I drifted off to sleep, I heard him whisper, "You will, Amihan."




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Vocabulary again:

Tatay - means "father," of course. Gah.