Page 92 of Daughter of the Serpent

"As are you," her mother murmured, stepping closer. “I only wish Egon and Harris could see you now.”

Sylvie's gaze locked with her mother's, a tumult of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

"They would not come?"

"They dared not defy your father's wishes," she admitted, her eyes casting to the floor.

Though Sylvie knew her mother's words were meant to offer solace, a balm to soothe the wounds of rejection, she knew deep down that it wasn’t just her father’s will that kept her brothers away. Egon's demeanor toward her had always been cold, echoing their father’s treatment. The way he felt about her was evident in his fleeting glances on the street, his eyes always quick to skirt past her as if she were invisible.

She knew he wouldn’t have come, even if given the chance.

Harris, on the other hand, possessed a gentler spirit, a flicker of kindness that had once offered her hope. Yet Harris had always sought their father's approval with an almost desperate fervor, yearning to be the son he believed his father wanted him to be. And so, it came as little surprise that Harris had not come.

"Yet you are here, with Mave - and that is more than enough." Sylvie beamed as she snuggled the blonde bundle closer.

"I wish we could have more time," Alma’s words were heavy with longing. “Yet you leave for the trials soon, and we must make the most of this night.”

“Come,” she urged her forward. “Let us talk a while,”

They slowly drifted towards the edges of the festivities, arm in arm til they found a place to sit in the feasting hall. Though normally Sylvie’s eye would have been beguiled by the plentiful food, the fine delicacies, and the sweet treats that lay spread across the long tables, she only had eyes for one thing.

Her little sister’s hands reached up to pull on her hair, her tiny fingers gripping around her tresses with a firm grip.

Despite the resentment she had felt upon first sight of her back at the celebration of rebirth, she was quickly changing her tune.

Alma filled her plate with wild boar, potatoes, and seasonal greens, carefully plucking two honey cakes Sylvie instantly recognized as Molly’s from the mountain of desserts.

“Here,” she slid the plate in Sylvie's direction, “I know you must not know the taste of such delicacies, but tonight you should have your fill. Try the honey cakes, they are divine.”

She poured from the closest clay vessel into a mug, filling it to the brim with mead - a cherished fermented honey wine, saved for special occasions. “Have some of this too.” She offered.

“I couldn’t possibly eat all of this,” Sylvie protested, though her stomach growled aggressively at the sight, instantly contradicting her words. She was so used to the simple diet all children of the light had to adhere to - eating only of what was permitted by the temple that consisted mainly of simple vegetables, bread, and fish. She couldn’t remember the last time they were offered fine meats, honeyed cakes, or wine. Such luxuries felt foreign, and almost sinful. For a moment as the cake met her lips, she glanced around her to ensure no one watched.

“Sweet treats first I see,” Her mother observed, a smile creasing upward at the corners of her mouth. “You take after my own heart.”

She brushed back Sylvie’s hair once more before taking the babe from her arms so she could eat freely.

“You have grown into a woman, Sylvie - such a beautiful woman. I could never show it, and tell you how proud I was - for fear of your father, but I want you to know I have seen from afar how much you have grown.”

Sylvie’s eyes widened at her mother’s words, surprise instantly gripping her features. She had never been called beautiful, she had never been called a woman - only ugly, cursed, and plain. EvenHaldor had called her girl, rather than woman, more times then she could count.

“We all heard of your miracles, and just how gifted you are with your magic,” She exclaimed, her features beaming, “You have made me so proud.”

Sylvie swallowed, the honey cake forgotten entirely at the compliments that fell from her mother’s lips. How long she had craved them, how long she had ached and toiled for a single word of acceptance - especially from her. Her heart twisted in her chest.

“I want you to know that I’m not guilty of anything they say I am.” She rushed. “I never killed those men, I never hurt anyone - I only tried to help, to heal - - ’

“You have nothing to prove, Sylvie - not to me.” She hushed her, calming her with a hand on her shoulder. “I may not have seen you recently Sylvie, but I know my daughter’s heart, it echoes my own.”

Sylvie’s eyes met hers.

“I have only ever wanted to prove myself worthy mother, to show you I can be a good loyal servant of the light. I can, and will, face these trials and win. I will come home and make you proud mother, I swear it.”

Alma’s hand gripped her own. “I believe in you.” Her eyes flashed with emotion. “Ever since you were born I knew I had to keep you safe, I knew you had a purpose - a calling. You’re special, even if the other’s cannot see. I feel in my bones the gods will keep you under their protection. You willlive, Sylvie, and prove them all wrong - and prove me right.”

Sylvie tightened her grip on her mother's hand, feeling the weight of her words sink in.

Her mother loved her, had been watching her from afar all the time - and had been proud.

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