“And we could use the help of any willing ice dragons,” I interjected. “If they can live in the city, they can help rebuild what we, well, destroyed.”
“What we both destroyed,” Lethe added darkly. “The war we began was the war you ended. We worked together to ruin the land.”
“The land isn’t ruined, though.” Nell finally spoke up. I looked to her, and I remembered, suddenly, vividly, the woman I had seen when I’d gazed into her soul, on the stoop of a beach house in Maine one December’s night.
It was her, and it was not her. This woman was older than she was, and she had thick, wild black hair lifted off her back by some phantom wind. She was taller than Penelope, and held herself with a noticeable confidence: square shoulders, chin up, eyes even. Although she was slender, like Nell was, her body still wasn’t quite the same. Her cheeks were a fair pink, and her tan skin bore with it a delicate smattering of freckles, as well as a delicate smattering of scars. Her face bore the exact same structure of Nell’s, angular and petite. It wore not one single crease, and I knew, somehow, I knew that this was because of her effort to appear strong, and not because she was never bothered by anything. She wore a blue gown and an armored breastplate: a warrior and royalty in one.
Nell looked like that queen I had seen, fleeting and illusory, those many moons past.
“Does the soil operate differently here than it does on Earth?” she asked pointedly.
I frowned and shook my head. “We may have different flora, and the enzymes will never quite match, to be sure,” I said, “but it is still soil. If you mix it with water, it will still make mud.”
“In America, we let our forest fires burn wild.” Although she had never before addressed my people as a whole like this, she spoke with confidence. “It’s even beneficial to the forest overall. The heat from the flames—which causes seeds to spring open that have been waiting for years—helps the new growth to germinate. And then they fall and flower in the debris of the wreckage… which acts as a fertilizer, providing a rich, nutritious base for the development.” No one reacted to these seemingly random facts, but Nell’s eyes were bright with optimism. She speaks with such passion! “Don’t you see?” she asked them, turning from one face to the next. “This war was your forest fire, burning wild. And now all of the tensions boiled over, all of the history which seems to be charred to a crisp, torn into pieces, and lying at your feet, are really a fertilizer. This—this is a tragedy,” she said, twisting to face my mother. A wise decision, as my mother’s eyes were the hardest. I had always known my mother to be a soft and tender woman, but the war had changed her, as it had changed me. It had taken more from us than from anyone else. It had taken not only Erisard, her husband, my father, but it had taken the land we assumed would always be ours, a gift from the gods themselves. It had taken our faith in the stars, and our bond with our people, and most of all, the innocence with which we could see the world.
But Nell had enough steadfast, resolute innocence—as if it was an oasis within herself she had been guarding her entire life—to share with the rest of us. To teach us how to let our own optimism spring forth again.
“This is a tragedy. But it’s also an opportunity. It’s an opportunity given to you by the gods themselves, Mrs. Aena. Queen Aena. It’s an opportunity to heal this city, and I don’t just mean the burnt buildings, the ruined businesses. I mean the relations between the fire and the ice people who share this land. You can start again by fully integrating your city. You said yourself the astrolabe used to be fixed so that the sun would shine brightest on the castle. Naturally, this felt perfect to you, but it also kept the ice dragons from ever being able to interact politically, or economically, or socially. And now—you have some good ice dragons here who are ready to start over with you. To help rebuild not just the stores and homes but the entire culture.” She looked significantly to Lethe and to Merulina before continuing. “You even have the opportunity here to heal the schism between your people by welcoming the birth—I mean, maybe, no pressure, guys”—she blushed and directed this aside to my brother and his bride-to-be—“but you could welcome the birth of a new breed of dragon. A breed of dragon who might have control over both fire and ice. Who might be comfortable in the summer and in the winter.”
Nell grinned between my mother and my people, pleading with them, revealing to them their own greatest avenue of success. She wanted them to believe in her, but not because she was desperate; because she was right, and she wanted what was most beneficial to all the people. A true queen. My heart sang with pride and gratitude that I had found her, and that I had chosen her, against all odds. Against even the will of the gods.