They ate outside on the hillside, grateful for the breeze. The sun was at its apex.

But Thomas did not appear, even though they all ate slowly. Edward kept looking toward the meadow. Finally, Charles sighed.

"I am sure he's all right, but perhaps we should look for him."

After a search of the surrounding hillsides and the meadow, they gathered by the ash tree.

Daisy said she would go by the lake, then up to the source of the spring. "He likes to sit there sometimes. Mother, would you come with me?"

"Yes," Elsie said. She was glad of the suggestion. If they found him, it would be better if she encountered Thomas with his sister present.

"I'd like to search the pastures east," Edward said, pointing in that direction. "Andy, you said he went that way-"

"He did, heading more south than straight on, I think," Andy nodded, his fingers on his chin.

"Andrew, go with Edward," Charles said. "You know the land better. He could get lost out there – it all looks the same to a newcomer. I'll stay and watch the flock."

I should not be the one who finds him, anyway.

"Take Remme with you," Elsie said to Andrew. "She is a good tracker, and can lead you back in case you lose your way."

"If you don't mind, could I stay here in the meadow?" Sybil asked Charles. The shepherd nodded, and everyone wandered in separate directions. Andrew whistled for Remme, and the dog came running after him.

Sybil sat down in the shade of the ash tree. Pulling her long dark hair over one shoulder, she watched as Charles whistled for Freya to bring several scattered sheep together.

It was very quiet except for the gentle wind in the tall grass.

"You are not at peace," Sybil murmured. Charles turned and looked at her in surprise. "I mean," she continued, looking across the meadow, "You are not at peace with yourself, or with your son. You worry that you did the wrong thing, that by marrying again you drove him away. It's not true. There's been a separation between the two of you for a long time. Your recent argument just made it visible – like a lightning strike in the middle of the night."

Charles's mouth was hanging open as he stared at her. Finally, he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in awe. "Your mother…told me of your gift. I suppose you've just shared it with me." He cocked his head to one side. "Or are you simply trying to get on my good side?"

Sybil grinned up at him, smoothing out the skirt on her tunic. "Maybe. But it is also in my nature to find balance between people, as well as help them find it in themselves."

Her eyes were clear blue. Despite her appearance, Charles knew he was in the presence of someone far older than himself.

It felt very odd.

"I only want there to be understanding between us," he whispered. "Thomas, and myself. I knew if I married there was little chance he would take it well." Sighing, he looked up, watching a wisp of cloud sweep by.

"Because he feels that you taking another wife is a betrayal of his mother."

Charles nodded. "I have tried to explain that it isn't, but he won't listen to me."

Sybil plucked at a long strand of grass, feeling its sturdy fiber against her fingers. "There is something else that divides you. The gods."

"He contradicts himself," Charles said. He did not feel the need to hide anything from her. "One moment, he says they don't exist, then the next he says that they hate him! It can be one or the other. Not both. When I tried to tell him that, he only got angrier with me."

"Thomas is like many people," Sybil said, holding out her hand to Freya, who lay down next to her. "He hates being wrong, but hates even more being told he is wrong. I can't be certain," she petted the dog, "but I would guess that he still believes in the gods. But he does not want to tell you. He'd hate for you to know you were right."

This was so sensible Charles had no answer for it. "Would it be possible," he gave her a slight grin, "for you to assume divine form in front of him? Only for a moment. He likes you, you would convince him-"

Though she smiled, the way she raised an eyebrow was eerily similar to Elsie. "You know it doesn't work that way, Master Shepherd. Besides, if I did that, then I would have to go home right away. And I don't want to, not just yet."

"We haven't driven you away?" His tone was light, but there was a shade of worry in it.

"No," she reassured him. "Thomas has lost his way, but I believe he will find his way back again. And my mother…" Her eyes shone. "She has found more happiness with you than with anyone I have ever seen."

"Has she really?" he asked. It was not that he thought Elsie was lying to him, but to hear it from Sybil was music to his ears.

In the distance, he saw Elsie and Daisy following the stream east to its source.

"Yes," she said. "There's a part of her that was hidden for a long time, that's now been revealed. It means everything to me that she is at peace! Thank you," she gave Charles a look of such gratitude he felt overwhelmed.

"I…didn't think it would mean so much to you," he muttered.

"Why would it not? She's my mother! Of course I want to see her happy!"

He put his hand behind his back, gazing at the flock. Something bothered him. He had not mentioned it to Elsie, since they had so lately been separated by the shock of her divinity.

"Charles?" Sybil's voice (Harmony's) was clear, if quiet.

"It surprises me," he said, "that you would take such an interest in me, in Thomas and Daisy, in any of us. I wonder if you will always think that way, or if it will fade. And if Elsie is the same."

"In the way she thinks about you?" Freya rolled over in the grass, and Sybil rubbed her belly.

"Yes." He turned to face her. "I am nothing. My life is nothing to the gods. We live such a short time, and…" he rubbed a hand through his hair. "Sometimes I wonder why your mother risks so much. For me. I know how I see her, and I know she is happy. But I will be gone in a twinkle of an eye, in a passing breath of wind. And she will endure forever. I can't help but wonder if she will forget me. After I am gone – not that I would know." He pressed his lips together, moving the crook from one hand to the other.

"Other times, I wonder if I'm just a sad old fool."

He heard the gentleness in Sybil's voice. "Sad you may be, but old you are not, and you are certainly not a fool. There's little reason to fret over what may happen. Every day you're together, you should cherish it. Like the time you have with your children."

"Even when there are things that divide us. Very true," Charles said in a dry tone. He glanced to his right, off to the east. Thomas most likely had only gone for a long walk, but he hoped he had not gotten lost. Or hurt.

Sybil stroked Freya's back, lost in thought. A tiny wrinkle appeared between her eyes.

"Is something troubling you?"

"I don't wish to add to your worries," she said quickly. "My mother has likely already told you about her – betrothal."

"She has," he felt his heart skip. "You are not adding to anything I don't already know." He paused. "Is there something I don't know about it?"

She shook her head. "No, Mother already told you everything. And we really shouldn't worry. Friends of ours, including my husband, are watching out for her and for you," she said. A short laugh bubbled from her mouth. "I should take my own advice, and not worry about the future."

"It seems it's difficult not to. Whether you are divine or mortal."

Leaning back on her hands, Sybil watched the fluttering leaves above them. "At times like this I envy Tom. He can see both the divine and the mortal sides much more clearly than any of us."

Charles frowned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Tom?"

She laughed out loud. "I suppose it does sound funny to you. My husband did not take mortal form, but since I did and have another name here, he chose one for himself. So we, his family and friends, have started calling him Tom."

He blinked, trying to comprehend it. "Your husband is the Messenger."

"Yes," she nodded.

"And he goes by…Tom."

"Yes," she repeated, her smile wider. "I like it. I think it suits him better than his given name."

He wasn't so sure. It seemed beneath the gods to take names from mortals. But who am I to question them? "Which name do you prefer for yourself? Harmony, or Sybil?"

"Harmony, when I'm home. But my mother will always be Elsie to you…and I'd like it if you'd call me Sybil. That is my name while I'm here," she said.

"As you wish." They were quiet for a long time, until Charles broke the silence.

"So…tell me about this husband of yours," he said, smiling slightly. "Are all the stories true about him?"


Thomas kept his eyes on the ground. For a long time he blindly went on, until the midday sun began to bother him. His belly rumbled.

He ignored it for as long as he could. He did not like the thought of going back and facing the others.

Guilt gnawed at him.

Try as he might to justify himself.

Not about the gods. He stood by what he said. But what he had said to Father's face about Elsie, he already regretted.

I do not trust her. There is something dangerous about her, I feel it. What I said to him about barely knowing her was right.

But really, questioning her virtue?

That went too far, and you know it.

Yes, other men desired her. Was that her fault? There was no proof she had ever indulged anyone else. Or dishonored his father.

There had been a moment when he had flinched, certain that Father would strike him. Now, as he walked through wild pastures abandoned by shepherds long gone, he wondered why he had dared say such things. Did he want Father to hit him? To see him break?

You hit him in the competition.

That was different.

It still bothered him.

He would never hurt you. No matter how much you hurt him.

He stopped and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. He resisted for several moments before giving in and weeping, the hot tears dripping onto the ground.

The wind rustled softly through the heather.

When he stood up again, the sun hurt his eyes and his mouth felt as dry as wool.

He turned back.

Because he had wandered farther and further south than he had intended, he began to feel light-headed before he finally saw the source of the spring. A large rock had been placed there an unknown amount of time before, marking the place. He fell onto the ground and crawled forward on his hands and knees. Dunking his head under the water, he relished the cold against his burning face, the life-giving source.

He drank deeply but stopped himself from drinking too much. The last thing he wanted was to make himself sick. Getting to his feet, he slowly dragged his feet as he walked beside the stream, heading west.

Part of him wondered if anyone had come looking for him. The sun was well past its peak.

If they didn't, it's no more than you deserve.

He could see the trees bordering the lake in the distance off to his right. In front of him, the tops of the trees that marked the edge of the meadow appeared.

His thirst partially quenched, he felt hungrier than ever. And the sun had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. He slumped down on the ground in the shade of a young oak.

Rest. Just for a moment.

Startling awake, he nearly panicked. His heart beat resumed its normal course when he saw that the shadows had not moved much.

"I thought I might have to wake you."

Elsie's quiet voice almost made him scream. He bit his tongue. It hurt.

"You…I didn't know…how long have you been here?" he asked, sitting up further, brushing dirt from his tunic.

"Not long. Daisy and I walked by here, but that was much earlier," she said, seated near him. She rested her head against her finger and thumb. "Edward and Andy searched the eastern pastures with Remme, but by the time they found your trail, they were too thirsty to follow it back here. They're all in the meadow now, with your father and Sybil and the flock. I thought I'd come find you myself."

Her steady gaze made him drop his. His guilt intensified. His sister and friends searching for him, worrying about him.

Without speaking, she handed him a bundle. Inside was a small loaf of bread, several figs, cheese, and a generous portion of fish. Instantly, his mouth watered and his belly twisted. He mumbled thank you before beginning to devour it.

"You've had a touch of the sun. Your face is red," she said. She reached over and brushed some of the wet hair aside on his forehead.

Instinctively, he leaned back, away from her touch.

"I'm fine," he muttered through a mouthful of cheese. She raised her eyebrows.

"Really? You'll be exhausted walking back to the hall tonight."

"I don't know why that concerns you," he spat out, frowning. He swallowed the last of the cheese and started on the figs.

"Thomas," there was a hint of impatience in her voice. "Whether you acknowledge it or not, I do care about your welfare."

The figs did not go down easily. Why did I say those things to Father about her?

"There's…there's no need to pretend with me," he said, forcing himself to look her in the eye. "Look, I know you care for Daisy." Anyone would. "And I'm grateful. But I can take care of myself."

Her expression was soft. It made him uncomfortable. He shifted on the ground, turning so he wasn't facing her.

"You know," she said in a quiet voice that both annoyed and appealed to him in equal measure, "you and I are not as different as you may think."

"How is that?"

"We both have a lot of anger. But I have learned to control mine. You have not – yet."

He did not want to admit it, but he was curious.

"What makes you angry, Elsie? You have everything you want. Unless there's something you want, other than my father."

She twirled a long strand of hair around one finger, a small smile on her lips.

Is she blushing?

Clearing her throat, she looked up at him. Her dark eyes reminded him of deep water under a moonless sky. Things hidden in its depths.

Maybe there was nothing threatening about her.

But maybe there was.

"Charles has made me very happy, yes," she said. "You know as well as I that no one gets everything they want."

He swallowed and his belly clenched. "You seem like the sort who can. You are – you're dangerous."

She actually laughed at him. "Dangerous? My, my. It depends on your view. It is in your power to be dangerous, Thomas. If someone ever threatened Edward's life, I know you would not hesitate to strike them down. And I wouldn't blame you for it." Her expression was serious.

"Edward…" he muttered, looking away from her. Abruptly, he got to his feet. "He's probably worried, I should go. They're in the meadow, you said?"

"Yes," she followed him.

They walked in silence. She a little behind him, but close enough for him to see her just over his left shoulder.

It rankled that she had not answered his question. Not that he expected her to, really. Like he doubted he would know why she and Father married in haste-

He stopped so suddenly, turning around, that she bumped into him.

"Why did you and Father marry at Midsummer? He said he thought of it."

Blinking rapidly, she took a step back. His pale grey eyes were hard. "Circumstances," she said quietly.

His heart sank and he put his hands on his hips. "Circumstances? Such as?"

"They are none of your concern," she said. Her face betrayed nothing.

Throwing all caution aside, he decided to be blunt. "Are you carrying his child?"

Her face flushed red. "What?"

"Are you carrying his child?"

Dangerous, his mind screamed. Something flashed behind her eyes. What, he could not tell.

For the second time that day, he flinched, certain he would be punished for saying too much.

"No."

He took a breath, not realizing he had been holding it. He pressed further. "Did you tell him you were?" It was the only thing in his mind that made sense, why Father would have married her so quickly.

"No. Thomas," her jaw was tense, like she was gritting her teeth. "I would never do that to your father, not that any of this is your affair!"

He did not have the courage to say anything else to her. It was similar to the last Harvest Festival, when he had mocked Violet and Isobel in the middle of prayers.

He thought he would crumble on the spot under Elsie's withering gaze.

Walking faster, he hurried to the meadow.


Edward was relieved, hugging Thomas for a long time after they were reunited. The others too were happy to see him. Even Father.

He appeased a little of his guilt by apologizing for his rudeness before they left. Daisy, Sybil and Edward gave the two of them privacy.

"I forgive you," Charles laid a hand on his shoulder. Thomas plucked up his courage.

"I am sorry for what I said about – about Elsie. But the gods are another matter. I don't ask for your pardon on that, since I still feel the same."

Sadness washed over his father's face. "I hope you change your mind."

"It will not be today." Please don't push me.

Thankfully, Father said no more about it, merely wishing him and the others a safe journey back.

Thomas couldn't help turning around when they reached the road. Two figures stood next to the house in the glare of the late afternoon sun.

They were holding hands.


Night had fallen. The room was completely dark. Charles could not see his wife, but he hardly needed to. Not when they were so close he did not know where he stopped, and she began.

"Charles," she whispered against his lips, her hands on his back. "Please," her voice came out in a moan.

He moved above her, feeling her breasts against the hair on his chest. She kissed him again, deeply. Hard. Her mouth on his, her hands sliding the length of him, everywhere, to his shoulders, his hair, then back down again.

Touching. Needing. Him.

"Elsie," he panted. It was unbelievable, the pleasure they shared. That she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.

"Please," she gasped, her breathing erratic. Her hands wandered lower. "There, yes, my man."

Their rhythm increased, their tempo interspersed by sighs, whispers, moans.

She cried out. The sound spiraled higher.

Then higher.

His mate, his lover, his woman, his goddess, shattered beneath him. He let out a yell, his own restraint unleashed.

It was not pride that overshadowed him in these moments, but awe. That he, of all men, was the one she desired.

Desired him above the gods.

And yet though he knew who she was, what she was, she was his wife. It gave him such happiness to please her, to give her what she wanted.

Tonight, tomorrow. And for how ever many days we have.

He held her in his arms as she shook, the intensity of their lovemaking rippling through her body like small waves from a stone thrown into still water.

"I love you," he whispered. When he kissed her, he realized she was crying. "Elsie? What is it? What's the matter?"

It had been a long day, with highs and lows. Their children all at home. Sybil's worry, then her triumph with the bread, Daisy's joy. Edward's happiness, Thomas's anger.

Charles had told her of their argument, and of the conversation he had had with Sybil. She had told him what Thomas had said.

Most of it, anyway.

She took a shuddering breath, and let it out. Charles rubbed her back. "It…it's something Thomas said. Or asked, to be more precise."

"What did he say?" She could hear the rumble in his voice, his attempt to keep his temper at bay. She swallowed and touched his temple, drew a line down the side of his face. To calm him.

"He asked if I was carrying your child."

"He what!? The insolence-"

"Shhh, Charles," she traced her fingers over his lips, sighing. "I'm glad he did."

"What!? Why?" She could feel his irritation, his outrage. "He had no right to ask you, it isn't his place…"

The room was suddenly very quiet. She felt him take her face in his big hands. Gentle.

"Elsie." His voice was barely over a whisper, a breath hanging in the air. "Are you?"

Closing her eyes, she felt fresh tears flow down her cheeks.

"I am not."

When he said nothing, she could not keep back a sob.

It is as I thought.

"Don't-" he wiped her face with his fingers. "I-I'm not angry with you. Thomas should never had the cheek to ask such a thing. He knows better."

She nodded, and he moved onto his side so they faced each other, her head against his chest. He stroked her hair while she tried to stop crying. She could feel the tension in his body, the unasked question.

"I never thought about it," he said finally. "Not before we married. And after, there were so many other things to think about…"

She smoothed her hand on his chest over his heart. The frail flesh over the beating organ. One day it would stop.

You know what the right choice is.

"It seems silly to ask," he swallowed, nervous. "But is it even possible? I-I know you, as the goddess, have power-"

"I do," she said softly, fighting the choking feeling in her throat.

The grief in her heart.

The image of the fertility altar appeared in her mind.

"It is one of the gifts I give to mortals." She had to force the words from her mouth, the words that had to be said. "It is not that I cannot carry your child," she swallowed back more tears, "it is that I will not. Better yet, I dare not. I have already put you, your children, and every mortal here in great danger. To carry your child would be a provocation to the gods that would border on madness."

No matter how much I desire it.

It had pricked at the corners of her mind for a little while. Seeing Phyllis and Joseph had caused it to bloom within her, but the worry over Victor had brought her back to the reality not of what could happen, but what certainly would happen were she to overstep that particular boundary.

Father would know. He would not hesitate to take such a child from me, and have it destroyed. Probably hand the innocent over to one of the Cyclops.

The very thought almost made her ill.

And he would destroy the kingdom, everything that is dear to Charles. To me.

That is why I dare not.

"Father accepted Harmony, partly because Marcas is a god," she said. "And also because she brought much needed peace to his realm. I…wanted a child,"she mumbled, feeling the weight of guilt, of choices made, of paths trod that could not be retraced.

Her father had sired more than one demigod on mortal women. As had other gods. But considering her betrothal to the Fire God, and the events that led to it, she did not want to think of the consequences of giving birth to Charles's child.

She began to weep, her head on her husband's shoulder.

"It seems the height of foolishness to ask you to defy your own judgment, much more your reason," he whispered, his hand caressing her face. "And simply insane of me to want more, more than having you for my wife. I would never ask that of you."

"But you want another child," she murmured against his warm skin. "There is nothing wrong with that."

"I wanted a child of ours," he said, "And so did you. For a few glorious moments I thought we would share that. But-" Elsie's heart ached when she heard the wobble in his voice. "You are right. I only wish…I could give you what you wanted." His voice broke, and she wiped his tears with her fingers.

"You have," she whispered in his ear. "Do you not think the gift of your love is enough?"

She did reassure him somewhat. But he knew as well as she did that there was nothing wrong with sharing their grief over the loss of a dream.

The heat of the day gave way to storms that night.

Lightning struck one of the trees by the lake. It was set ablaze, but the fire was quickly doused by the pounding rain.

A face appeared in the flickering embers. He turned in the direction of the house, but heard nothing.


A/N: A lot, again. A shout out to Kouw and ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for asking about possible Chelsie babies. Again, I'm asking for your patience with this story. I'm not going to make everyone happy, I know. But I am asking for you to stick with me. :)

Coming up – the next chapter is entirely Victor's point of view. So you'll (finally) know what he's been up to.

All of your reviews, reblogs, comments, etc. mean absolutely everything to me. Hopefully the website will start behaving itself again, but in the meantime, don't be shy.

I love you all.