Hi everyone!! This's my english translation of my very first fic! It's a SLASH fic, so be warned!
I deeply apologize for any grammar mistakes you'll find, English is not my mother tongue! And if is to horrible, the plot or the grammar mistakes, please! Tell me!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
1945. Avalon.
The wind hit the silver hair on his face, briefly obscuring the view of the cliff that was at his feet. A fragile hand rose, pushing away the hair and placing it behind a delicate, pointed ear, and eyes, resting on a face way too young, and in whose turquoise deeps danced the shadows of the years, set their gaze on the horizon, in the dying sun through the fog that covered the island from mortals. Contemplating, recalling a lifetime of sunsets seen in that very same place, and thousands more, seen through the eyes of his youth.
-The wind is changing - his melodious voice whispered in distress- You can smell blood in the breeze and hear the crying infants in the roar of the sea. Mother, what has happened to my people? What perversion of men has fallen at your feet?-.
The wind lashed out again, and the rustling of the trees echoed behind him. The murmur of the earth was heard.
-Emrys,- the Mother sang in his ear- is time to return. The coast of Ynys Witrin can no longer give you any comfort-.
-But Mother- Emrys groaned- there is only pain among mortals.
-There's pain, but there's also hope. In the smile of a child, in a lover's caress...- the Mother disproved of him, as talking to a naughty boy.
Emrys looked away from the dying sun.
-But even in the smile of a child and a lover's caress there is pain. They all go, all die, and I'm still here, feeling their departure-. His voice trailed off, the last syllables blown in the wind.
Emrys's chest contracted and raised his hands to his heart, as to try to relieve some of pressure. It seemed impossible that after all the centuries that had passed, he could find something there for him, in that place that so long ago had forsake him, where treachery lies in unimaginable places, in the arms of his loved ones. Now his memory in Britain would find itself distorted by time, part of legend transmitted from voice to voice and into oblivion. But his Mother had never been wrong, and even more, She had never lied, always at his side, partner and counselor in the seeming eternity.
- I don't know if I'm strong enough to go through all that again, Mother. Here there is peace, tranquility, what I've always wanted, without that pain tearing inside-. He whispered his voice carried the weight of torment occurred long ago, but never forgotten.
- But your heart is asking for more, and you'll find it. Go, my son. Go to your heart, to feel again-.
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