In Hours of Grievous Hope: Ch. 14 & Epilogue

Names for the Healed

Notes:

**wraps myself in bubble wrap for protection from angry readers*

**constructs book fort, because North Aerwiaran Thwap Organization (NATO) would never harm books*

******

The first thing Janner was painfully aware of was Kalmar’s absence. It wasn’t that he had failed to see or hear him, it was simply that he knew he was gone. Forever. And he was never coming back. 

At the thought it seemed as though his entire being shuddered, in fear or grief or something else, he wasn’t sure. A terrifying weakness crept on the edges of his consciousness, as if he already knew that without a purpose in his life, that of protecting his king, that of serving his brother, that of loving Kalmar unconditionally even when it drove him mad, it was all gone. He was nothing. There was no point.

For the first time since being in the Maker’s World, he wondered why he had ever had to come back. Kal had made the right decision: he had stayed. He had stayed amidst joy and peace and perfection and the Maker and their Papa. 

Janner felt tears come to his eyes at the thought, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he missed Kal already, because he missed Esben, or because of some other reason he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He scoffed at himself silently all the while, though, ashamed and grieved that it had taken so little time to find himself shed of the perfection and glory of that wondrous Place.  

Still, a part of him just wanted to leave and fade into nothingness. Something told him he was already close; it wouldn’t be that hard. He knew his spirit was back in Aerwiar, in his body again. But it didn’t feel normal like it had for years. He supposed the transition from being in the Maker’s World accounted for part of it, but there was a frailty he had yet to understand or explain to himself. 

Perhaps actually working his way into reality would help, trying to get bearings of what was actually happening rather than the grief and confusion swirling within. The world inside was like bitter medicine that sickened him to the point of retching, only he didn’t think there was anything he could actually expel. That only made it feel worse. Maybe the world outside of his heart would be a bit less of a disappointment than the world inside.

Janner tried hearing first and was met with a form of success. Joyous whoops of pleasure and a few sobs mingled with it drifted in, foggy and sounding a bit like they came from underwater. They made his heart hurt. He had no idea why he heard cries of joy, but he knew the cause of the sobs. It was Kal. Kal’s death. And it was likely Nia crying, weeping for her son who would never return because he had served his purpose in Aerwiar and was now being rewarded by the Maker Himself for such deeds of valor and love.

Caught up in that spiral of grief, he forgot about seeing or feeling anything and almost forgot about hearing. It was quite likely he would have, except hearing his mother’s cries hurt so dreadfully that he had to keep listening. Why did he  allow himself to feel such pain that was not even his own? The only answer he came up with was that it was his responsibility, really. He should have found some way to keep Kalmar from dying, however it had happened. He should have manifested in one of his dreams if that was even possible or done something else. 

It was useless to ponder, he knew. The Maker’s Will had been done, and nothing else could have happened while they walked in the path He laid out for them. 

A bit later, Janner realized he couldn't breathe. A brief surge of panic welled up inside of him, and he tried drawing in a shaky- or half-breath at the very least, but his efforts were met with near defeat. Something came into his lungs, but it was barely anything, barely enough to keep him thinking about grief and remembrance, which in and of itself was a good thing. Maybe it was a blessing from the Maker.

He knew, though, that he had more to do in Aerwiar than stop breathing and expire that way right after being brought back to life. That would certainly be a mockery of Kalmar, perhaps even a mockery of the Maker Himself. Janner knew it would trample on his brother's love and sacrifice, and even as that made him feel so many times worse, he resolved not to stomp his brother's death into the dust because he felt guilty. Kal was worth more than that, far more.

“H-hello?” he called out, realizing immediately the chances of anyone hearing it were near nothing. He had barely been able to hear it, whisper that it was, and an underwater whisper at that. Despair swept over him and tears gathered in his eyes, reminding him that he had eyes and could, in theory, see. When he opened them, though, only darkness met him.

On the verge of actually panicking, Janner finally resorted to trying to physically force himself out of whatever had trapped him, but not only did moving do absolutely nothing, he was exhausted in just a few moments.

True terror set in then, much like that he had felt in the Fork! Factory! months before when he was first thrown in the coffin. The very thought of it made him want to be sick, but he knew there was nothing in his stomach. Every thought buzzed in his mind, telling him to feel fear, telling him to lose control, telling him that even though people were there, even though his own mother was there, no one cared enough about him to come and rescue him. 

Every encouraging though about the Maker's World only broke his heart and his mind more, because he knew he wasn't there. He was alone.

All those thoughts nearly did take over, rushing from his stomach up to his throat, about to come out in a shriek that had equal chances of being incredibly loud and blood-curdling or as quiet as a mouse’s squeak, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, light and trembling, that despite the fear it conveyed in a simple touch chased away every thought of panic intruding on his mind. 

He basked in that brief contact and held his breath as soon as it disappeared. Soon he breathed again, because the sound of fiddling came next, and then whatever held him in place loosened, and he gasped in a breath of air that tasted wonderfully crisp and new but looked absolutely blinding and freezing cold to the point at which he choked on it.

Trapped in the midst of a coughing fit that shook his entire body as if its only goal was to tear him apart, he found himself unable to actually see more than a blurry, dark blob of whomever the Maker had sent as his rescuer on a background of blinding golden. 

He tried to control the coughing by breathing slower with more care and consideration, but that only made him choke in a way that was dreadfully painful. He heard words, then, quiet words he had the greatest temptation to match to one lovely face in particular but was reluctant to. “Breathe in through your nose, out slowly through your mouth,” she said softly. 

Janner did his best to listen and found the endeavor halfway successful. With that much of a victory in his favor and in spite of the nagging knowledge that Kalmar was gone forever, he blinked rapidly, desperately needing to see the girl in front of him. The moment he felt the restraints holding his arms in place loosen, he lifted his hands to rub his eyes trying the hardest he ever had. 

She came into focus slowly: brown hair, light skin, green dress and…and…diamond blue eyes, as lovely as the sea. His mind stilled and his heart fluttered, even though he knew it wasn’t possible; it was just another dream, another dream like all the others that had ended as soon as the sun streaked across the horizon. He could see blinding light, though, light like the sun. Perhaps it had already risen. Perhaps he wasn’t dreaming at all. 

“Sara?” he breathed, blinking faster to try and see her more quickly, just to be sure if it was really her or if it was some figment of his imagination, or a distorted version of Leeli. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t make sense. How was she there? It wasn’t possible! “Where did…I don't…how…what…”

“Shh,” she said soothingly, bringing her hand closer to his face before pulling it away, almost as if she had planned to cup his cheek and at the last minute decided against it. “Don't speak. I'm going to let your mother know you're here. I…she didn’t turn when you started coughing.” 

The world was coming into focus more, and he could see her eyes clearer, full of longing and grief. They were her eyes. They were her lovely, diamond blue eyes. And she had said, “your mother,” not “Mama.” Leeli would have said “Mama.” And she had sounded like Sara too, delightfully like Sara. 

But mingled with the sweetness of her presence was the bitter knowledge that Kalmar was indeed gone. Her words had said as much. Janner wondered how he would hold back the knowledge of the First Well from Nia when he saw…tears gathered in his eyes. When he saw Kal’s body for himself. He knew he desperately wanted to bringing him back, even though it would never work. Kalmar had made his choice, and it was the choice he would have always made. Nothing they in Aerwiar tried would change that fact.

“No, wait!” he said quickly, thinking Sara was already gone, already at Nia’s side, already pulling her away from her grief over Kal’s all-too-final death. She wasn’t, though. She still knelt right in front of him with that same worry and grief and longing in her eyes and written on her face, but now she was listening. 

“I can go to her,” he forced out, planting one hand on the ground and working to push himself up (the fact that his hand was oddly thin flitted across his mind, but it was gone quickly). “She…no one needs to tear her away from grieving. Not this time. Not again.” 

Sara’s mouth parted a little in what he guessed was surprise, but he didn’t have the focus to pinpoint that specifically while he was still trying to get himself off the ground. Gritting his teeth, he made it halfway up and was almost standing, his knees bent, before his legs began trembling uncontrollably and he nearly fell.

Arms caught him, though (Sara’s arms, he realized), arms much stronger than he was. 

“Let me help you, then,” she replied as she put one arm around his waist, a spark of gentleness mingled with frustration in her tone.

Janner consented to the support that he so dreadfully needed for those first few wobbly steps toward his mother, a kneeling, weeping silhouette against the blinding golden light that made the night day. He felt himself needing less and less assistance as they walked unnoticed through an unexpected crowd of people, and for those last few strides that would take him to Nia, Sara backed away, trusting him to get there on his own. Janner grasped her hand briefly before she completely slipped away, inexplicably grateful that she understood without needing to hear that he wished to worry Nia as little as possible. He still wondered how Sara had gotten there, where they were, and every single little why  running through his mind, but those could wait. Nia mattered now more than anything. 

“Mama?” he said softly, standing behind her, seeing that she clutched something in her hands. He lowered himself to the ground and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, worried for a second that he would need help getting up afterward but figuring that would be a problem for later. “Mama…I, I know it doesn’t make up for Kal — I know it doesn’t, and it never will — but I’m here. And I love you.”

Her sobs stopped briefly and she turned her head to look at him, the golden light setting her face aglow and her shining tears ablaze. “Janner?” she whispered in disbelief, reaching out to cup his cheek with her hand and brushing her thumb against the scar that still lingered there, though he had not realized it before. “How did you…?”

Janner shook his head, deciding now was not the optimal time to tell her that he had sung the Song of Stones—

Realization dawned on him: he had sung the Song. Kal had melded. The sun was an Ancient Stone. All the people milling about, smiling, hugging each other: they had been healed by his brother. And singing had brought him life. Nia didn’t need to know that, though. Her heart didn’t need to break anymore.

“I’m not really sure,” he said instead. “Mama, I’m so sorry. I truly am.” He wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could in an effort to comfort her, but as it was his tightest hug was rather feeble. In the end it didn’t matter though, because her embrace was the most desperate and strangling he had ever received from her, and the way her entire body shook broke his heart. 

“Where did he go?” Nia asked hoarsely after she pulled back, her eyes filled with tears of anger and grief.

Janner looked at her, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

There was a flash in her eyes, a terrifying one, as she pointed toward the blinding Ancient Stone. “There,” she said, her voice trembling. “He fell there. He should still be there. My little Kalmar should still be there,” she whispered, an angry sob working its way out of her throat. “Instead, all that's left is this...this stone,” (she spat the word out as if it tasted disgusting) “and your sword.”

Janner squinted and shaded his eyes and stared as best he could, eventually realizing Nia was right: Kalmar’s body was nowhere to be seen, yet what looked like a broken Ancient Stone and his sheathed sword from Rudric, clutched close to her chest, remained. Had someone moved him? Why would they have done that?

He managed to get to his feet, and on trembling legs raised his voice and called, “Has anyone moved the king’s body? Where have you put him?”

There was no response from anyone; for that matter, most of the people ignored him. Janner wasn’t all that surprised, considering that his voice was oddly quiet and everyone likely assumed he was just another transformed Cloven like themselves. What had happened to Kal’s body, though? When someone melded, they didn’t disappear. They simply crumpled, shriveled into a skeleton with taut skin stretched over it. Why had Kal’s body disappeared, then? 

Because it breaks My heart to give Nia the false hope of the First Well when the final decision has been made. I have buried him where I view as sacred, and there is no better place, the Maker whispered gently in his mind, and instantly relief crashed over him — one question had been answered. Grievously so, but answered nonetheless.

What did surprise him were the arms wrapping around him seconds later, arms that had been attached to a bobbing blur of pale-blonde and lavender. Janner gasped and staggered the moment Leeli — for who else could it be? — threw herself at him, but as it was her presence was a support, and she kept him upright.

“I missed you so, so much,” she choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t tell anyone, but you and Grandpa, oh, Janner it was too much!” Her tears flowed harder, rolling down her neck and staining the collar of her dress. “And now you’re back and Kalmar’s gone and you’re the king and what are we going to do?” her words ended in a grief-filled whisper, and she lapsed into burying her face into his shirt. 

Janner looked at the top of her head in confusion and did his best to hold her closer while still glancing at Nia in concern every few seconds. “Leeli, I promise, it’ll be alright eventually.” That “eventually” was a very long way off, but what else could he say? Well, one thing he needed to find out was what in all of Aerwiar had she meant by saying something as ludicrous as that he was king? In the end he did ask. 

She stopped sobbing for a moment and only sniffled and wiped her nose when she answered, “It’s what Kalmar wants. He wants you to be his successor, just not in those words. He made us promise to make sure it happened in case he didn’t—” her chin quivered in grief again, and more tears spilled from her eyes. “He knew again.”

“That…that doesn’t make sense,” he breathed, feeling his legs tremble, telling him he needed to completely sit down before they collapsed on him. He ignored it, though. “I can’t…you—”

“He wanted to make sure everyone had a part to play,” Artham’s soft, considerate voice drifted in from among the crowd. Janner looked for him, failing to find his winged uncle who he looked up to more than almost anyone, but he saw no one who even resembled him. Where was he?

Then there was a little laugh. “Janner, I’m right here.”

Looking in the direction of the sound of the steady voice, Janner saw a tall man, broad, with dark hair, blue twinkling eyes. His face was the kindest imaginable and even looked a little bit like Esben’s, an unexpected comfort to his aching heart. “Uncle Artham?” he whispered in awe, feeling Leeli back away briefly, probably to be near Nia. 

All he could do was stare. The man before him was nothing like the Artham he had seen as of late, nothing, even, like the mostly-human version of him, Peet the Sock Man. No, this Artham was young, carefree, and blameless, unhampered by guilt and shame. It was a miracle.

Artham smiled again. “Yes, it’s me. I just told you that, didn’t I?”

Janner nodded, and in that very moment his legs gave way and he crumpled without really wanting to. Artham caught him, his arms steady, and lowered him to the ground, joining him a second later. “I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?” he asked, smiling sadly. “We always knew you were stubborn, and nothing has changed. I’ll spend most of my time protecting you from yourself.”

Shaking his head, Janner involuntarily reached out to grasp his left leg, wishing both it and the right would stop trembling from exhaustion. “I don’t get it. What do you mean you’ll be protecting me? And what did Leeli mean by saying that I’m king? I don’t get it! She’s queen and I’m her Throne Warden, right?” He swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart breaking because even though it had been annoying and painful and downright impossible at times, he wanted to be Kal’s Throne Warden more than anything.

Leeli spoke up, and when he looked at her, he saw that she was indeed sitting next to Nia, providing as much comfort as she could to their grieving mother. “He didn’t want anyone to f-feel useless. Uncle Artham can be Throne Warden a-gain, and he’ll do wonderfully. I’m still Song Maiden because why change?” she smiled a little at that, as if overjoyed that something was still as it had been before. “And he made you King. Because you’ll do great. You’re a natural. And maybe your first act as King should be naming all these people.” 

Janner stared at her, unable to speak. Such wisdom resided in her young heart and mind; she was the one who should be Kal’s successor, not him. If it was in his power at all…he would find the First Well. He would find some way to heal her leg. She deserved it. He shifted his gaze to Artham, then turned his head to see Nia, her sad eyes on him, reassuring him even in her grief. Looking further, he managed to find Oskar, bobbing around with his quill and journal, talking to everyone and scribbling in a journal or notebook. Lastly his eyes settled on Sara, standing off to the side, apart from everyone. Alone. Close to tears; he could see it in her eyes. She didn’t deserve to be alone.

“Sara!” he called, immediately getting her attention despite how quiet his words were. When she had come closer, he tried standing on his own, once again failing miserably and forced to rely on Artham for help. On his feet, though not completely because of his own ability, he faced her, looking into her lovely, diamond blue eyes. “I…Artham and Leeli said Kal asked me to be King,” he said awkwardly, worrying that what he had planned to convey would get lost in the weight of the words or the pain of his grief. 

She smiled a little, though the sadness in her blue eyes was evident. “That’s wonderful. You know, for months I dreamed—” she stopped herself, clamping her mouth shut.

Janner tilted his head a little. “What did you dream?”

Sara shook her head. “It’s not important, not now.”

He had a feeling it was very important indeed but chose not to press her. “Leeli wants my first motion to be naming all these people. And…I want you to help me. And I wouldn't mind if Uncle Artham and Leeli helped, too.”

Her head jerked up abruptly, her cheeks crimson. “Me?! Why me? They make sense, but I don't! I'm not…I’m not even—”

Janner smiled before whispering, “But someday you might be. If that's what we both want, that is. Please, help me choose names for them.”

Eyes alight with joy, Sara nodded, and they as well as Artham and Leeli began the first task the Maker had laid out.

EPILOGUE

“What is this?” Kalmar whispered in awe, staring at the golden staircase looming before him, reaching up into the clouds of a rainbow of majestic colors. 

Esben rested a hand on his shoulder. “This is the path to the Maker’s Throne Room,” he replied, his voice equally hushed in reverence and dedication. “All the kings of Anniera come this way when they enter the Maker’s World, and they commune with Him in his very presence.”

They began ascending the steps rippling in light and glory, and Kal had to remind himself to breathe, so entranced was he by the glory of where he walked. Clouds flitted around them playfully as if they had minds of their own and sparks of light shifting in and out, glittering bits of all colors. They reminded him of the little piece of Janner’s spirit he held dear in his pocket, but that was not at the forefront of his mind. 

“Has anyone drawn this? Or painted it?” he asked, unable to keep the eager note from his voice.

Esben chuckled a little. “No, not yet. Not well, at least. Only the monarchs of Anniera may turn this wonder into artwork, and we have yet to find one who has succeeded.”

Looking at him quizzically, Kal couldn’t resist a slight tease. “Did you try and not manage it?”

He received Esben’s full laugh in response this time, and it echoed wondrously all around them. “I waited for you,” he said with a gentle smile. “I wanted to draw and paint it with you, not on my own.”

Warmth filled Kalmar’s heart, and tears of joy came to his eyes. “Really?” he whispered as they stopped at the top of the staircase, gates of jewel and light standing before them. 

“Really,” Esben replied, picking him up effortlessly and pulling him into a tight embrace. 

Kal wrapped his arms around his Papa’s neck, basking in the love that flowed forth from him, so thankful, so inexplicably grateful and joyous they were together. 

“Now, let’s go see the King.”

*****

Notes:

Reasoning for Janner's Kingship instead of Leeli's Queenship:

• Janner and Esben have always had a connection that was too strong to ignore. This is one of the things that bothered me from the start of the series.

• Kalmar can technically appoint anyone he wants to if he really feels like it.

• Sara is already considered "Queen Sara" by her orphans, and it seems a little too perfect.

• In "Places Beyond the Maps" as Sara's father is dying, he sees her in the future, in the Throne Room of a completely reconstructed Castle Rysen. He also refers to her as a "young woman." Now, considering how long it would take to actually rebuild the entire castle out of stone (several years at least; I'm thinking 10? Maybe 8?) and putting Sara's age in that context, it means she would be around 22 or 23 or 20 or 21 in her father's vision. Meaning that she is likely married and has kids. There's no reason for her to be sitting in the Throne Room of Castle Rysen at that age when she's married, unless one of these is the scenario: 1) Kal dies, Janner is crowned, Sara is Queen, 2) Janner stays dead, Kal marries Sara, Sara is Queen, OR 3) Janner stays dead, Sara doesn't marry for a while, she remains an unofficially-adopted princess and has a throne in the Throne Room. Now I suppose it's possible that Janner is TW, she is his wife, and she has a throne, but that seems a little weird. Or maybe her father's vision was simply a snapshot of an abnormality.

• If Leeli is Queen, they're sort of without a Song Maiden again. And Artham wouldn't exclusively get to be Throne Warden. Plus Janner might feel useless because I don't know how great of a TW you can be when...you are physically compromised.

• Do you really want Thorn to be king? As yourself this question several times. Because Thorn as king is literally the equivalent of Maraly as Queen.

  
  

• If Leeli is Song Maiden, Janner is High King, and Artham is Throne Warden, Artham gets a second chance and we have the entire trio existing!!! Sort of. Could they open the Fane of Fire? Well, technically, as long as the symbols are drawn right. We know Janner can't sing super well in the books (TWatWK: Throg), but it never says he can't draw!

• Janner has always seemed like the true diplomat of the family (other than Nia). He was the one who was tactful enough to get Ban Soran on board with the alliance. Even though that's only one scenario, that's what people do in fanfic: they take a subtle glance or gesture or barely spoken word from a single thing and they turn it into something MASSIVE. I've at least given you several lines of reasoning :)

• And as @Andreajoy4jesus said, Leeli does not want to be Queen

Reasoning for Janner's physical state after coming to life:

• Guess what, this is actually canon-based!

• In "Places Beyond the Maps," Karl still has the same scars/permanent injuries he obtained while he was a Fang. The melding did not heal him of those.

• Therefore, it stands to reason that canonically, Janner would still have the same scars and injuries (i.e., his raisinness) that he had before dying. He won't stay a raisin, don't worry. It just...might take a little while for him to get closer to normal, and his immune system will be compromised for quite a while (if not forever), and he'll never be super broad or particularly tall, but I think Sara ends up being short anyway, so that's not a problem^^

And now I'm ready to be screamed at even more...

But...guys, if there was anything you actually liked about the chapter, hearing that would be encouraging! Like, happiness regarding Janara or Kal & Esben or something. And if you just feel like being angry I get that too.