Hey everyone! This is my first time writing a Pellinor fanfiction, and I really hope I do it well. I am going to do my absolute best to post a new chapter once a week, but I want to make sure that the writing, plot, and characters are developed, so it might not be quite as periodic as my other works. Hope you enjoy it!

Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!

You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled

Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring

The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.

Beauty grown sad with its eternity

Made you of us, and of the dim grey sea.

Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,

For God has bid them share an equal fate;

And when at last defeated in His wars,

They have gone down under the same white stars,

We shall no longer hear the little cry

Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die.

-W.B. Yeats

Chapter One

"Would you like some more tea? Or perhaps something stronger…ale, wine? You were always so fond of wine. Here, drink this, it's wonderful; fresh grapes from South of Turbansk went into that, I guarantee it."

Cadvan stared at the tall goblet before him, filled to the brim with a dark, burgundy liquid, and carefully, lifted it. It smelled of nothing so much as fresh, warm wine, and looked of nothing so much as wine, and, undoubtedly, it tasted of nothing so much as wine; however, Cadvan couldn't bring himself to taste the drink before him. To him, the wine was poison, and he would rather go thirsty than drink an offering from the Dark. As gently, as he could, he replaced the goblet on the table before him and stared down at his hands in his lap.

"I'm not thirsty, but thank you, all the same," he answered as politely as he could.

Across from him, a face fell. "Do you not like red wine? Would you prefer something cold? I completely forgot how hot it is outside, and the dry air must trouble your throat horribly. I'll call for juice-"

"It is not a trouble of the wine, I promise you," said Cadvan simply, still looking into the palms of his hands. They were calloused and dirty, far more than they had been in the months leading up to his predicament, and the backs were laced with a pattern of ugly red welts. They needed cleaning and healing, perhaps some cold water. "I've always enjoyed my wine."

"Then what is wrong? You promised me, didn't you, after I saved your life for the fourth time in Innail, that you would buy me a wine. So, I've spared you're the trouble and brought you some to share."

Cadvan sighed. "Maerad, it's not the wine that I have a problem with."

Finally, Cadvan forced himself to look up from his hands at the young woman across from him. She was beautiful, beautiful like a perfect summer evening; hair as dark and luscious as the night sky spread over the sea, skin as pale as the moon, alight with a healthy glow, and eyes like stars. When she smiled, her face was more breathtaking than Cadvan remembered, and he felt a raw ache in his heart, like a stab of a sharp knife. This lovely woman who sat across from Cadvan, while stunning in all respects, was not Maerad. She looked like Maerad, wore Maerad's clothing, even spoke in Maerad's voice, but it was not the girl Cadvan loved. Across from him was a stranger, an imposter, a woman who drew him forward only to give him no ground to walk on, and he found himself falling forward into the abyss.

Maerad looked suddenly alert, and perhaps, a bit nervous. "Then what is it? Are you uncomfortable here, is it the soldiers standing guard?" Maerad shot a look at one of the men and shooed him away; the two left with glances at Cadvan. "Or, perhaps you'd care for some more food; you look as thin as I did when we first met. Silvia called me a stick and asked if you'd been eating all the rations." Maerad laughed fondly at the memory.

"You remember that, do you?" Cadvan asked a little darkly. "You remember Silvia and Malgorn and Innail?"

"How could I forget?" asked Maerad with a wistful smile. "Innail was my first true home, the first place I knew kindness or love. I have many fond memories of Innail; it's why I chose my new home to be modeled after it. Don't you like it?"

Cadvan glanced about Maerad's many spacious rooms. They were wide and open, with vaulted ceilings, their rafters carved with intricate designs of flowers. The walls themselves were painted buttermilk yellow, small lavender flowers stenciled as a boarder around the floor, was home to many bookshelves and instruments, and even a few paintings and framed scripts. The room they were seated in was a large, pleasant gathering room that opened to a private garden. Cadvan and Maerad were seated in comfy chairs on an oriental rug before a roaring hearth, and on the table before them was a small feast. Cadvan could just see through one door the glimpse of a bedroom, and the other, a library. His eyes were drawn, irresistibly, though, to the large set of screen doors that gave way to the huge garden. Through it, Cadvan saw a cobbled walk that twisted away through beds of blooms and trees, and he heard the babble of a fountain, and the stray cord of an instrument being plucked.

"You have done Innail justice, Maerad, but do you not wish to visit the city again?" asked Cadvan carefully. "Or if not Innail, your friends there? Silvia and Malgorn miss you, and Saliman spoke of you just the other day."

Maerad raised an eyebrow. "Did he? He wasn't quite so fond of me when last we crossed paths, or rather, when our paths diverged. What has he to say this time?"

"That he misses the company of Maerad the Unpredictable," answered Cadvan swiftly, thinking of his friend's safety.

"I find that slightly hard to swallow," she sniffed, and plucked a strawberry from the plate before her. "Cadvan, come, eat something. You come before me like a starved mutt and refuse my food."

"I'm not hungry," he said simply and stared long and hard at the fresh fruits before him. It turned his stomach ever so slightly that Maerad had provisions such as these when the rest were forced to live off scraps not fit for animals. "I've eaten my meal today as it is."

Maerad laughed. "Yes, but it can't have been a good meal, could it?"

Cadvan's face darkened perceptibly. "It's what I've been given Maerad, and it's what I shall eat. A man of my station eats the food of his station, wears the clothing of his station, and lives the life of his station."

The sharpness of his rebuke stung Maerad, and she returned his frown. Once, there was a time when she would have held her tongue and nodded in agreement, but that was long gone. Maerad was no mere girl to Cadvan anymore; she was a true Bard, master of her own powers, second to no one. "You seem to have forgotten the respect a man of your station owes."

Cadvan sensed the change in Maerad at once, and knew he was going to have to tread very carefully until she returned to herself. "I certainly did not mean to offend you, Maerad. I simply meant that I have taken my fill for the day, and could not in good conscious take more. Perhaps another time?"

Maerad pursed her lips. "Next time, I will have you brought in early morning so as not to waste the food in the first place. I find myself often bored these days and your company might be pleasing."

"I have always enjoyed yours, Maerad. I'm happy you asked to see me." Cadvan knew he was pandering to a monster, but he had little choice in the matter; there was too much at risk. "I think, though, that maybe the others would like to see you, too. Silvia misses you sorely."

The thought of Silvia unsettled Maerad and she sat up straighter, stirred to life. "I have missed her, too, but things have been busy; I've been called away often to deal with a few schools, and the Lord of Light needs me often. We are in close council."

Cadvan tried to hide his shock. The Lord of Light? Maerad can't actually be referring to Sharma? he thought as something like a cold hand gripped his heart and tugged. Are you so consumed by his spell that you think him a savior and not the monster he is?

"I have been named First Bard," Maerad said, smiling triumphantly at Cadvan, preening a little. "You were prepared to be First Bard, once, weren't you?"

Something in Cadvan flinched. Does she do this to torture me? Has she been consumed by the Dark so completely? "That was long ago when I was young. But tell me, of what city are you First Bard?"

"No city," Maerad shrugged, sensing his despair like a hound on scent. "I am First Bard of all. Even Enkir must answer to me now. Oh, Cadvan!" she cried, tossing back her long hair and laughing. "You should have seen his face when he was brought before me. It looked as though he'd swallowed a fly when he saw me seated on the right hand of the Lord of Light. He serves me, but I don't forget," she warned, suddenly serious. "I don't forget his treachery."

Cadvan was wary of her sick pleasure at Enkir's demotion. "Forget what?"

Maerad glanced over her shoulder to the two men standing guard at her door and frown darkly. "Come, let us go out to the gardens and walk, I promise, you'll love it, Cadvan!" She jumped to her feet holding out her arm expectantly, waiting for Cadvan to take it and lead her away.

With a tired smile, Cadvan rose and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm like a gentlemen. "Shall we take the air?"

Maerad drew close to Cadvan, far closer than he was used to with her, and led him through the screen doors and into the garden. She had not lied when she'd said that the garden was beautiful, the closest replication of Innail she could make. They were standing in a circular, paved opening, a small wooden table set with place settings. However, this was all Cadvan could see, for the garden life claimed the rest of his view. Beautiful, blooming rose bushes ringed their small outcropping, dotted here and there by huge, willowy trees, flowers creeping up their trunks. A small path left the patio, trees forming a natural roof over it, draping their leaves like a horse's mane. The path wound out of sight, but Cadvan had no doubt there was more stunning plant life. In the very distance, Cadvan spied a large, brick wall, it too, covered in creeping flowers and vines.

"This is lovely, Maerad," Cadvan breathed. "You keep a garden worthy of the finest Schools."

Maerad sniffed delicately. "This is my most favorite place to be, Cadvan, no one comes here but me and Hem. I hope you like it here."

Something in her tone worried Cadvan. "Truly, I would stay here for the rest of my days if I could."

Maerad's smile was odd, like she were thinking some wicked thought that made her eyes gleam. "Well, it may be in my power to do just that, but that is talk for another time, after much consideration. After all, you sometimes weary me, Cadvan." Maerad was blind to the confused look on Cadvan's face and she tugged him onto the path. "Some day, I will make the world this way; just a beautiful, blooming garden."

"Would that you could," agreed Cadvan, sounding wistful.

"Anything I will can be made real," Maerad warned, and she pulled Cadvan to a stop so he was made to look into her eyes. He saw nothing but hard ice there, and it frightened him. "I have touched the truest powers of the Knowing; I have unleashed a power you could not begin to understand, my dear Cadvan. I make this world to my desire; there is no one to challenge me."

Cadvan bowed his head, hoping just to escape her cold, pitiless gaze. "I am the first to believe that, trust me, Maerad, for I have seen your powers unleashed. I have seen you vanquish wrights, sing lullabies to stormdogs, make a rabbit of a hull-and that was in your weaker moments!"

"Yes, yes it was," Maerad agreed contemplatively, but there was still steel in her voice. She gave Cadvan a sharp pull and he had no choice but to follow her. She led him a little ways on to a small alcove where a fountain in the shape of a rearing horse held court, flanked by small benches. She directed Cadvan to the rim of the fountain and slid a sly sideways smile up at him. "Watch me, Cadvan."

Wonder and horror woke in Cadvan has he watched Maerad. She reached into the pool and scooped a handful of water out, and then, slowly, began to breathe on it. As she blew the water, it began to reform, bending and twisting, and he saw a shape forming: a twig-like leg here, a wing there, even a small beak. In her hands was a small bird made of water. Cadvan was about to compliment her creation, but Maerad shot him a dark look and then began to sing. As always, Cadvan found Maerad's voice stunning and heart-warming; like the sweetest song of a bird. As she sang, though, Cadvan felt a strange, burning sensation, and he saw the plants around them sink slightly, as if being drained of life. The burning sensation was almost uncomfortable when Maerad suddenly stopped and he turned back to her-and then gasped.

There, in Maerad's hands, was a small, very alive, bird.

"How…" whispered Cadvan weakly, watching the bird hop across her hands. It was like no bird Cadvan had ever seen, so blue it was almost white with eyes as black as night. "Maerad, you gave it life."

Maerad snorted, directing the bird onto her finger. "No, I simply understand life. All the things that are required to give life, they were there, all that was needed was that first spark. I gave it that."

"That's amazing," Cadvan breathed.

"You like it, then?" Maerad asked, and she turned big eyes on him suddenly, as if part of her was worried Cadvan might not like her creation. "You think it's good?"

"It's more than good," Cadvan murmured, and held out his hand for the bird to hop on. It did and he chuckled in amazement. "It's brilliant, Maerad, impossible…"

"It's good then," Maerad said simply, watching the bird blandly. "You can name it, if you like."

Cadvan saw Maerad's attention waning with the bird, and said swiftly, "So, tell me, Maerad, what do you do with your free time here? I see you have been busy with the creation of this lovely place, but surely this has not taken six months?" He wriggled his fingers and the bird fluttered off to a nearby tree.

Maerad drew Cadvan back to her side and directed him down the path. "I read, I write, I sing and play; but often times I am bored. I admit, I am kept a bit busy with the constant letters I receive from the cities since I am First Bard," said Maerad, again, smirking at Cadvan, "but I long for the company of my friends."

"We feel the same," Cadvan said, shooting her a quick smile. "Silvia misses you, and Malgorn wishes to hear the stories of our journeys, and I too, would like to see you more often."

"You are seeing me, Cadvan," Maerad said wryly. "I would love to have them come visit, but I do not think they will be very pleased with me, and honestly, I am not interested in their self-affirming judgment."

"Silvia loves you like a daughter, Maerad!" Cadvan cried at once. "Do not think they have come to dislike you."

"I think that is exactly what has happened," she answered darkly. "I think that they believe me a creature of the Dark, and I won't forgive them. Remember, I don't forget!"

Cadvan flinched at her angry outburst; he had hoped that Silvia's presence might bring some light back to Maerad's world. "You did say as much."

"Enkir killed my mother," Maerad said bitterly. "He took from her her very self, and sold us to be slaves. Forget that he had my father killed, and razed my home! I will make that man pay for the crimes he's committed."

Cadvan blinked. "He must have some power-"

"Ha!" Maerad tossed her hair back. "Enkir is nothing but a sniveling slug, trailing my shadow and leaving behind his slime. And soon, very soon, I will crush him under my boot like he did my mother…"

The Dark has manipulated her love for her mother, Cadvan observed. "Do you think it healthy to have such dark thoughts, Maerad?"

"They make me happy," she said with a smile. "I think of the revenge I will take, and I am happy. It is so for that horrible Gilman, too. I have already sent men to the cot to bring him here. Soon, he too, will know my wrath."

Cadvan could feel the coldness Maerad was emitting like a physical thing. He shivered a bit, and when he looked down at his arm, saw that there were goose bumps forming. Maerad must have seen this too, for her face softened and she drew him closer, cupping his cheek with her hand. "Are you cold, Cadvan, are you tired? Come, we will sit and rest a while, and then we will play together as once we did."

"You are a gracious host, but I think I will be missed by my fellow housemates if-"

"You will stay and all will be made well." It was an order if ever Cadvan had heard one, and he knew it wasn't worth it to try and fight her.

"So long as you want my company," he sighed.

Again, Maerad's mouth curved up in a secretive smile. "I have always desired your company Cadvan, since the day you first found me in the cot milking that cow. All those dark days we traveled, and all those evil nights, and all those desperate times, you have been my companion, and I found solace in it." Maerad led Cadvan to small alcove, made naturally by a large willow that trailed its branches against the ground. As she stepped up to it, the leaves parted like a curtain for her, and she smiled over her shoulder. Beneath the leaves, against the trunk was a lovely wooden daybed, with a soft mattress and light blankets; there was also two seats and a table. As Cadvan drew nearer, he saw that the furniture was made of the willow's roots, and that great magic and song had gone into this creation. Maerad reclined on the daybed and gestured Cadvan to the nearest chair. "For so long now I have been alone here, and I found myself wanting something, but I couldn't quite put a name on it. I thought I had everything: a home, my music, a garden, and my brother, but still, I felt restless. I would find myself night after night out in the garden, lying beneath this tree, staring up through the leaves at the stars, and then it came to me: I wanted you, Cadvan."

"I'm flattered-"

"Don't be," said Maerad swiftly. "I don't know why I wanted to see you, because you were not always kind to me, sometimes, you were downright mean, but the thought of you brought me peace. So, I went before the Lord of Light and he granted my desire; he is so keen to keep me happy."

He's just using you, Maerad! Cadvan wanted to cry. "I am grateful for it."

"He wants me to be happy, is all," Maerad sniffed, but then she fixed Cadvan with another penetrating stare. "So tell me, do they speak of me often, down there in the dust and ash?"

Cadvan ran a hand through his hair. "We miss you, Maerad."

"Well, you don't have to anymore," Maerad said indifferently. "You can come visit often, and it will be just like it was before. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Very much," hedged Cadvan. "But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that all your friends would like to visit you, too."

Maerad stared up at the leaves, her eyes darting back and forth as the leaves moved in the breeze. "My friends? I think not. They had no desire to see me before. What has changed now?"

Cadvan watched her, watched her lips pout and her blank eyes. "It has been awhile, Maerad…They have since thought better of it."

"Perhaps," Maerad murmured, "perhaps I will see Silvia, but not the others…no, they haven't forgiven me yet, and so I don't forgive them."

"But, Maerad-"

"No, Cadvan," she said sharply, turning her cold eyes on him. "Do not pester me so, or I shan't let you return. I want you and I to get on well, Cadvan, like we did in the past, but I can't stand such whining. I'm occupied enough without listening to you complain."

Cadvan leaned back in his seat, but kept his gaze on Maerad. "As you'll have it, I meant nothing of it." Maerad pursed her lips and blew out her breath, annoyed, as if she only half believed him. "Now that I am here, though, what would you have of me?"

Languorously, Maerad rolled over so she faced him completely, and the pale blue gown she was wearing draped over her body like a waterfall. She smiled up through her softly curling hair. "It has been so long since I've had the company of someone…someone normal. I want to do something normal; play with me, Cadvan. I'll send for instruments."

Cadvan glanced down, unable to look at Maerad any longer; she was too charming, too sweet, too beautiful for him. What he saw instead were his own hands, worn and calloused by the last few months of imprisonment. He doubted whether he would be able to play an entire piece with Maerad. What he wished for suddenly was a long bath, a few proper meals, and a long night's sleep.

"I would like that very much, Maerad, but I'm afraid I'm in no condition to play." When Maerad stared at him, looking actually disappointed, he continued. "My hands…they're not quite in the same shape they were six months ago."

"What has happened?" asked Maerad sharply, sitting up and holding out her own hands for his. When Cadvan gave them to her, she sucked her breath in sharply. "Who did this to you?"

His hands were scarred from work, and one had a long, shining burn mark, the other, a broken finger that needed to be set. She turned his hands over in her own, inspecting them closer and biting her lip. For a moment, Cadvan saw his Maerad before him; the young woman with a gentle heart and a desire for comfort and friends. "Who did this to you, Cadvan?"

"The burn was my own doing," said Cadvan.

"The broken finger?"

Here, Cadvan paused, wondering how he would fare if he revealed the shift warden had snapped it in a fit of rage. He looked away, but Maerad took his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. "Tell me, Cadvan."

"One of the wardens," he shrugged.

"Ah," was all she said, and then cupped his hands in hers. Cadvan meant to ask her a question, but he felt a sudden rush of warmth in his hands, and when he looked down again, Maerad had uncovered them. They were healed, the burn turning the pink of new flesh, the calluses smooth, the broken finger popped into place. "There now, all better."

"Thank you, Maerad," Cadvan said, and he examined his hands more closely. "Thank you."

Maerad sat back, pleased. "I don't want you to suffer, Cadvan, but you are worse for wear than I thought. Perhaps, I will play and you can listen, and then I will have you escorted back to your home."

My home, thought Cadvan. My home? Is that what you call that place they keep us? Cadvan smiled grimly. "I'd like to hear you play again; do you still have your lyre?"

"Indeed," said Maerad. "The Lord of Light has decided it is my heritage, my right, and now that it has been played, there's no reason I can't have it."

This surprised Cadvan, but he quickly smiled. "That's generous."

Maerad sat up suddenly, and Cadvan turned to see that waiting behind them, just outside the curtain of leaves, was a young woman. She looked uncertainly about, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet, and pushed back a mess of black hair as she peered into the depths of the tree.

"Bring it here," Maerad called, and the girl poked her head through the leaves. She saw Cadvan and blinked before quickly dropping her head. "My Lady, you called for your lyre."

"I did," sighed Maerad, rolling her eyes at Cadvan. "Now place it here and be on your way. See that my things are laid out for my dinner." The girl came forward, glancing curiously at Cadvan before placing the lyre on the table and bowing herself out. As soon as she was out of earshot, Maerad sighed. "Her name is Iris, and she's a useful thing to have around, though a bit skittish."

Cadvan felt a stab of sympathy for Iris; he had had a difficult time adjusting to Maerad's power, and now that she was the Nameless's lieutenant, it must have been especially unnerving. "She's seems a sweet girl."

Maerad's eyes bore into Cadvan. "Do you think so?"

"She's very polite," Cadvan amended, sensing Maerad's disquiet, he added, "You were going to play?"

This brightened Maerad at once, and she picked up the lyre, strumming it experimentally. After a moment, she found herself and picked up a tune, an old song. Cadvan was disappointed that she chose not to sing, since she had such a fine voice, but he was also grateful just to sit and relax and listen, relishing his time in the garden. Maerad played for almost twenty minutes, never faltering, just switching from song to song, humming now and then, but mostly focusing on the notes. The sun had begun to set when she stopped.

Releasing a pent up breath, Maerad tossed her head back and laughed. "Ah, it feels so good to play again. It seems like it's been ages since I played."

"You are truly a master Bard, Maerad," Cadvan applauded. "Were that my hands were more ready for an instrument and I would have joined you."

"Next time," Maerad said firmly. "Next time you will play with me. I will make sure there will be no more of this working nonsense for you. Your hands will be properly healed by then."

"I do not think I can refuse to work-"

"Don't be silly," said Maerad, rising up and gesturing for him to do the same. "I will tell the wardens that you are to be excused from such things. You have more important things to do than slave away in the armies of the Lord of the Light; I must have some entertainment." She laughed as if this were amusing and not a horrible thing to say.

"I'm grateful," Cadvan said again, and followed Maerad out of the garden back to her room.

Iris was hurrying about, cleaning up the food they had left behind and setting the cushions and blankets on the chairs and couches back to rights. When she saw them, she jumped. "My Lady, I have your evening gown laid out and waiting; would you like me to fix your hair-?"

"In a moment," Maerad said absently. She turned and faced Cadvan, surveying him closely. "I do not think the Lord of Light will appreciate your presence at our dinner, which is more the pity, since you would prove the only good company. I'm afraid, for now at least, that we must say goodbye."

"It has been a pleasure, Maerad," Cadvan said while Iris watched them closely.

"Yes, it has. I will call for you again soon," Maerad said, and then she smiled shyly. "I trust you will be pleased."

"Yes, of course," he said, and then took her hands in his and kissed her cheek, as he had done so long ago at the welcome feast.

Maerad smiled up at him, and for a moment he saw the girl he knew and loved. "Until we meet again, my dear Cadvan."