Flightless Illyrian ( Azriel ff ) (On Hold)

4.

Her Story

Meissa. That was her name. Her real name. She gave them her real name – not one of the many aliases she had taken up for the past couple of years – because for some reason, she trusted them.

She looked at their faces now. Patient, waiting for her to go on at her own pace.
Mor gave her a small encouraging nod.

"I come from one of the smaller camps in the Steppes."

On the looks of confusion that passed on their faces, Meissa clarified, "I'm equal parts Illyrian and High-fae. My father fell in love with my mother while he was on a mission. Her parents didn't approve of a union with an Illyrian brute, but that didn't stop my parents from loving each other. My mother... She didn't make it through childbirth." She paused, taking a deep breath.

The people around her were completely silent and she didn't have the courage to look up and face the pity the she would no-doubt find in their eyes. At Feyre's light, comforting touch at her elbow, she spoke past the tightening of her throat.

"Her parents didn't want anything to do with me, so my father took me back to his home. And, thus, began the life of the wingless half-breed-bastard-born Illyrian female in the war camps. I'm sure you guys know enough about those war camps to imagine that a living situation can't get worse than that." She looked up then, only to meet Azriel quite eyes which showed he had some idea about what she meant.

"It wasn't always bad though. My father loved me more than anything. Just like he'd loved my mother. He was one of the greatest warriors of the Illyrian race. And I know, in my bones, that even if I had wings, he would never have let anyone clip them. I've never met another male like him. He protected me. Raised me to believe that I was just as good as any male within that camp. And that's what I came to live by, ... until the war with Hybern."

Meissa didn't have to ask to know how very traumatizing the war had been for the people around her as well. They had all fought in the war. Had been so lucky to survive. But from the chilling shift in the air, she knew that war had left them broken too. Just as it had left her shattered.

"My father didn't return from the war. He was among the aerial legion that was wiped out by the king with the power of the cauldron." Her voice cracked a little and she heard those around her take in sharp breaths collectively. They remembered. They had witnessed the destruction with their own eyes. She could tell how gravely they were still haunted by it.

"I am so sorry", whispered Cassian from beside her with an emotion she could not place. It sounded almost like sorrow and... guilt.

Meissa noted that the others, even Amren, stole glances at Cassian with sympathy in their eyes. But Cassian was looking at her. His eyes remorseful. Perhaps he felt somewhat responsible. He was the General after all. She just nodded at him, not knowing what else to do.

She took in a long breath, releasing it before going on.

"As a result of the war, everything changed. Now that da was gone, there was no one to stop the hateful scoundrels from coming at me. I had to pull my own weight to survive so I was thrown into the roles of cook and laundress. No one wanted to marry a flightless female and risk breeding the defects into their younglings."

She scoffed, "well, thank the heavens for that."

Amren huffed at that "You're right to thank the heavens for that, girl. It's better to be washing clothes if you ask me."

"Trust me. Washing and cooking weren't the least bit of my worries." She hissed, clenching her jaw, as the others tensed, suspecting what was about to come next.