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The Dereskian Queen	By : LadyMoria Category: +G through L > He-Man Views: 2856 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own He-man, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Six: Borderline

That night was one of the longest in Caerlin’s life. She and her sister sat, as runners went from village to village, warning those who were not behind the walls of Elënuial to get there quickly.

Sometime re mre midnight, the remaining Ancients had arrived. They met in the conference room of the town hall, and decided that Elënuial was probably the safest place for the Dereskïgiä to go. As the approaching armies neared their destination, the final few of the population entered the city gates, which were then barred.

The Ancients fortified the walls and barred walls by linking their hands and using their joint energy to create a Majick barrier. Their actions would be repeated later on by the Eternian Council of ‘Elders’, though they did not know that at the time. After a while of conversing with the Ancients about their defense, Caerlin went to prepare for the battle.

There had been much argument among the Ancients on whether or not Caerlin and Moria should be allowed to fight. However, as Caerlin pointed out, she was the best swordsperson in the nation, as well as being rather adept at Majicks. Moria was the highest voice in opposition to her sister’s fighting, and vice versa. It was argued that Caerlin should fight because she was queen, but that Moria should not fight because if she did, and both of them were killed, there would be no one to take the throne. The opposite was argued. In the end, Caerlin decided she would fight, but ordered that Moria stay out of the battle. Moria argued against her orders, but Caerlin denied any refusal. She was forced to pull rank on her sister, and that was possibly the worst moment of her life.

Caerlin dressed slowly, her sister nearby, helping her, but not saying a word. The elder sister wished there was something she could say, something to break this uneasy silence. She was clothing herself in the ancient manner of Dereskian fighters. She wore a long, black, button-up garment, with long sleeves and several slits running up and down her thighs. Beneath it, she wore an armored length of chain mail, which fully encompassed her chest and entire middle body. She wore no type of helmet, and her only weapons were a pair of twin swords at her sides.

She finished putting on her armor, and was about to leave the room. She turned around for one last look at her sister, and tears filled her eyes. Blinking them away, she left the chamber, and went out to stand with the militia and whomever else they had gathered to fight.

“Caerlin!” Moria cried behind her, and the elder turned around to have her sister fling herself into her arms. Tears flowed freely from both their faces and mingled together. Behind them, a group of soldiers passed by, on their way to the front gates. The twins looked at them, and then back at each other.

“They’re nothing but children,” Caerlin said sadly. “Look at them, they’re so scared. They don’t know what they’re doing. Most of them have probably never held a sword in their lives.”

Moria held her sister tightly. “Don’t go, Caerlin. They’ll manage without you.” Her voice began to break up because of her tears. She couldn’t speak another word, and she leaned her head upon her sister’s neck.

Caerlin let her tears fall now, as she had not done at her parent’s death. “Moria,” she whispered hoarsely. “They won’t. You know that as well as I do. They need their queen now.”

Moria nodded slowly. “But I need my sister now.” She looked into Caerlin’s eyes. “You’re the only family I have left, Caerlin, and I love you, as I have never loved anyone else. If anything ever happened to you I… I don’t know what I’d do…”

“Moria…” Caerlin answered, wiping the tears from her sister’s eyes as fresh ones fell to take their place. “You are the only one is the world I have actually cared for. I do not intend to lose you, and I do not intend to let you lose me.”

“Sister,” the younger twin said, hugging Caerlin tightly, her arms wrapped around the elder’s shoulders. “What if you don’t come back to me?”

Caerlin drew away and looked deeply into her sister’s eyes. “Don’t talk like that, of course I’ll come back.” The tears fell freely now, dropping onto her chest and were echoed in her sister’s eyes.

“Han yan you be sure?” Moria asked, holding her sister’s arms and looking always into her eyes.

“This is Love,” Caerlin said simply, “Do you think Eläni would let it stop?”
And that was enough. They held onto each other as if they would never let go. It began to rain. They stood there, not caring about the rain, only holding on to each other, letting nothing stop them. At last, Caerlin broke away and looked into the almost glowing blue eyes she loved so much.

“I’ll come back, sister, I promise. Wait for me, okay?” She wiped her eyes, but it could not be seen whether it was rain or tears that stained her hand.

“Of course I will. I always will,” Moria said, grasping her sister by the back of her throat and kissing her deeply. She broke away, and nodded. “Go,” she said. “Go quickly, and come back as soon as you can.”

Caerlin nodded, “Goodb-”

Moria interrupted her, “Don’t say good-bye. I don’t want it to sound like I’ll never see you again.”

Caerlin nodded, and turned away from her sister. “I love you,” she said as she reached the door. And then she was gone.

She traveled beyond the gate, and felt it close behind her. She looked out at the number of troops, and heart sank somewhat in her chest. These were only mere children, or else Dereskians that had seen many seasons past their prime. Caerlin gazed behind her, toward the building she knew housed the Ancients and her sister.

“Good luck.” She whispered into the wind. Then she faced her troops and gave out her orders. In a moment, the sad, dismal looking youths had come to attention and stood, poised. In that instant, if the Eternians had arrived, it was probable that they would have been annihilated quickly. But, as it was, the enemy did not come, and by the time they did come, the army’s morale would have been much depleted.

Caerlin knew this, as well as she knew how to handle the double swords at her waist. The morale would drop, but it was her duty to be sure the troops stayed enthused. She simply did not know how to accomplish this.

She watched the faces of her troops grow brighter as she spoke to them, speaking to them of the inadequacy of the Eternian army, but how their numbers would be far greater than the Dereskïgiä could ever hope to meet.

Some of the soldiers faltered at this information, but Caerlin smiled.

“Do not lose heart at the thought of many opponents. It is not the amount of soldiers that are important, it’s the battles you choose, and most importantly, the people you protect. It is often the causes that have the least possible chance of success that are the most worthy of fighting for. And, you will find that in all the battles of all history, those which are most renowned and revered are also those which had little hope of victory.”

Their resolve set anew, the three thousand soldiers of the Dereskïgiä turned their eyes back to the horizon in unison, and they waited. Within the walls of the city, the Ancients, Moria included, stood, waiting, in a circle, their hands linked in preparation for spell casting.

And as the approaching force drew nearer, the clouds over the three moons parted just a little, and beams of white, light blue and dark red fell upon the city of Elënuial, filling the people with a kind of peace.

Standing at the Borderline, surrounded by her troops, Caerlin began humming a song she had once never thought she knew, and she smiled slightly.

Mantë minas gond barad ith darat tet nanës pagalen, proo mez calli wod barń tet li, mez cuivië emuin, ath ëaren.

“Moria,” she whispered, and then was silent.

The banners of a faraway army were becoming barely visible in the distance. Beneath the rays of the three moons, standing on the Borderline, the Dereskïgiä stood, swords in hands, and they waited.
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- 7
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The Dereskian Queen