Stephen shook his head in vigorous defense, "I assure you, Mistress Moraine, there is no trifling here." He held his ground, straight-backed and resolute as she advanced towards him several steps. "I swear to you that your trust in not misplaced—and that my deepest regard, and all my respect for your daughter, is honest and true."
"Do you think me so foolish not to have noticed how she looks upon you, how she hangs upon your every word," she scoffed, her regal face contorted with scorn, "I had thought you a man of honor, Sir—but there is no honor in this!"
He took a step closer, his hands raised palms out, in a gesture of placation, while he chose his words with care, "Please, Mistress Moraine…please, give me a moment—I think you're misinterpreting things. If you would just let me explain…"
Her eyes flared angrily, her voice become a sharp knife's edge, "Misinterpreting? You think I am misinterpreting the evidence before my eyes?" She spat out what had to be a string of Hadeethan curses, and sneered at him. "Shall I tell you what I see, bold-faced before me, under the very roof of Teyla's home…of her childhood…of her innocence?" Before Stephen could reply, she reeled off the damning evidence, "I see you look upon my child with a man's desire, and I see an equal share of longing in Teyla's eyes; and though you both did what you could to keep your eyes from lingering upon the other in my presence, when your gazes met there dwelt that same desire increased, like a well sunk fathoms deep and filled with your shared secrets."
Stephen hung his head a moment, unable to deny the truth of her observation—and still she continued, "Aye, I see how it is! The silent, little signs; how you watched her—quietly yes, but with hunger unspoken. How carefully you avoided touching her, and she you—yet in the absence of physical contact, how you ever leaned toward one another, drawn together, as if by some magnetic force. Do you deny this, Master Strange?"
He shook his head, though less reluctant than he had expected to be about admitting the truth. "I cannot," he began, "And I don't…I don't even want to try…" Stephen felt a growing relief about surrendering all pretense—giving him confidence enough to be completely candid. "Yes. Oh yes, Mistress Moraine. Improbable as it seems…improper and inconvenient as you may find it—Teyla means more to me than…well, than anyone I've ever known."
Having anticipated obfuscation and denial, Moraine appeared taken aback, so that he pressed forward, "And I know that I'm the luckiest man alive because—impossibly, astoundingly, miraculously—Teyla sees way past my many, many faults, insists on seeing the best in me instead, and believes in me so strongly, that she makes me do everything I can to live up to her image of me."
Moraine blinked several times, considering his audacious claims. "Truly?" she asked, an edge of steel still in that single word, as her gray eyes bored into his, searching his truth, seeking his measure. She raised her chin-as she weighed his words-in a manner so like Teyla's that he had to refrain from smiling. "I warrant-at least—that she has given you such a gift. Sir. For indeed it is a boon she gives quite naturally, born of her kind and generous spirit."
At that, Stephen did smile, recalling how Teyla's sweet kindness and unstinting compassion had opened his heart, day by day, moment by moment, until he could not help but love her.
"My daughter has always been guileless and incapable of artifice—and for the mother who loves her above all else in the world—ever easy to read," she advised him, her fury banked for the moment, "She is, as you say on Earth, an 'open book'. And thus I can see that see is completely smitten with you, and that she has laid her heart at your feet." Moraine's voice softened, surprisingly; became as mellifluous as any mother's heartfelt plea, "How can I trust that you will not change as is the way of men, once you tire of her simple gifts?"
Seeing her soften, Stephen countered as humbly and sincerely as he could, sensing the possibility of acceptance. "Would you take my word, Mistress Moraine? Would that be enough for you to believe me when I say that she is more precious to me than my own soul?
She moved a few steps closer, studying him intently, and—he hoped—seeing him with greater understanding, "Do you believe she is any more precious to you than she is to me, Stephen Strange? Teyla is my blood, and the meaning for every breath I draw…"
"Of course…of course she is…" Stephen concurred deferentially, sensing the possibility of Moraine's reluctant acceptance.
"…you must understand, that as her mother, it is natural for me to be alarmed by the hunger I see when you gaze upon her," she continued forbearingly, "Though it is not quite the hunger of the wolf for its prey, remember please that this is my gentle lamb in your sights."
He gave the barest of nods, and calmly met her, eye to eye. "I do understand, Mistress Moraine. And I will remember, and always treasure her as such." Stephen paused a moment, reading Moraine's grudging indulgence, a quiet surge of gratitude spurring him to a further promise. "Teyla is the purest, brightest soul that I have ever encountered in any realm or reality. She holds my heart in her gentle hands. And I swear to you that I would never do anything to dim her precious, beautiful light-just as I promise you that I will always, always protect her from harm, from anything...anyone…anywhere." Silently considering the miracle she was, he realized with heart-piercing clarity, that he would—without hesitation-lay down his own life to keep Teyla safe, and to ensure her happiness.
Moraine drew a deep breath, a shadow of relief crossing her face, before she told him firmly, "See to it that you do, Master Strange." She moved to stand before him, close enough for him to mark the finest of age lines on her striking face, and that she was nearly his own height. "Likely your vow is sincere in this moment," she told him, "And as your reputation as one who serves the Light has preceded you, I shall stay my judgment for a time." She backed away and added, with a passion that reminded him of her daughter, "But see that you keep your word, Strange. If you break her heart…if you give her any reason to despair-know that I will exact a recompense which you will be loath to pay."
"She only means to protect me, you know." They had come to the outskirts of the city, as the cloudless sky had transitioned from bright blue, to an array of soft pinks and oranges on its way to the deep reds and dusky purples of a Hadeethan sunset. Stephen swore he hadn't seen such pure colors in a sunset since his youth on his family's Nebraska farm.
"I know, honey," he assured her, his fingers threaded through hers, as he wished their little stroll needn't come to an end. "And I don't blame her at all. I'd feel exactly the same about the situation, if I were in her shoes."
Teyla leaned her cheek against his shoulder and sighed ruefully, "Still, I am sorry if she was harsh to you. I swear that she seldom behaves that way."
Stephen hummed in quiet agreement, just happy to have a little more time with her before he returned to Earth. Following Moraine's confrontation with him, Teyla's mother had asked for privacy while she spoke with Teyla alone, inviting him to explore their small corner of the city, while not straying too far from the cottage. He had agreed obligingly, though he would have liked to have seen Teyla first. The women had been closeted for nearly an hour—and when he returned to the cottage, he found neither woman showing any sign of a tumultuous altercation, much to his relief. Moraine had stopped short of giving them her blessing—but allowed Teyla the remaining hours of daylight to spend in Stephen's company, stipulating that Teyla must remain on Hadeeth one night at least, so she might address the ruling council about her portentous dream. Moraine then told them pointedly, that Stephen's presence in the council chambers would prove an unnecessary distraction from the import of Teyla's message.
"I believe that Mother hopes to convince me that my feelings for you may be misplaced, with my heart unseasoned as it is. But I cannot be dissuaded, my love," she assured him confidently, "The time has come for her to recognize at last, that I am a woman grown. And to remind her of how it was for her when she grew to love my father."
Stephen knew that Teyla had finally shared the news of her father's death with Moraine, and he had tendered his condolences to her mother; she had accepted them graciously, making clear beyond words that it was a topic not open to discussion.
Teyla urged him on, "But we must hurry, my love, if we are to reach the grove before full moonrise." Stephen could feel Teyla's excitement over sharing something she had promised would be a wondrous sight. "Nonya will be the first of the sisters to appear, and her time is swift approaching."
She began to pull Stephen along, as she rushed them towards the fragrant copse of trees, not far from the path to the city gate. Along the tree line, he noted a series of low bushes, with dark green leaves and—curiously—fully closed blossoms, a deep sapphire blue at their base, which faded first to a cornflower blue and then to baby blue, and finally to white at their very tips.
"We call them talat akeylum," she told him, smiling happily in the growing dusk, "Moon Blossoms—for they are as children of the Sister-Moons." Teyla's happy anticipation was contagious, as she leaned against him, one of her arms wrapped through his and holding on tight, while she looked to the darkening sky. "Nonya will appear first, as she ever does, and our patience will find reward. Then you will see, my love," she promised him, nestling her head against his shoulder, "a thing of rare and quiet beauty." She punctuated her promise with a soft sigh.
Stephen brushed his lips against the crown of her head, inhaling her dear, familiar scent, finally putting his prickly conversation with Moraine behind him. He had vowed to protect her daughter's sweet light at any cost, a mission that had already become as second nature to him. Teyla's happiness had become his own, just as now his heart belonged entirely to her. "Rare and quiet beauty? You've already shown me that, honey, countless times over." She hummed softly, surely guessing where his soft musing led. "I only need to look into your eyes, Teyla, to see true beauty."
"You need not flatter me, beloved," she teased, "I remain yours, pretty words or no." She looked skyward, and gave a happy squeal. "But look Stephen," she said, pointing toward the velvety purple heavens, with bright pinpoints of alien stars set throughout, and two far, far slivers of moons, like ghosts paled by the light of a full moon, appearing much lower in its orbit of Hadeeth. "Look, my love, and see, just as I've described them…Anya, there…and Enya…and there…there is little Nonya…"
Stephen gave a low whistle, charmed equally by Teyla's simple joy, as by the glorious sight of Hadeeth's night sky. "And now, the Moon Blossoms, Stephen. Look upon nature's pretty gift."
He cast his eyes upon the low bushes, and his mouth dropped open in awe. As Nonya's light moved across the plants, each flower that it touched began to unfurl, in a delicate, silent, unexpected symphony. Teyla tightened her grasp on his arm, while he stood amazed, as the blossoms opened in seeming slow motion, their colors made more vibrant by the light they basked in.
"Breathtaking," he murmured, thinking that of all the astonishing sights he had witnessed throughout the multiverse, this had to be one of the simplest, yet most lovely. Or perhaps it was the beautiful magic of watching it all come to life, with the woman that he loved at his side. Whatever it was, his heart felt full to bursting, with gratitude and love as he had never felt in his entire life.
"Our cottage garden boasts a swell of talat akeylum as well, but nowhere near as full and fragrant as we see them here." Teyla brushed her hand along the green leaves, and it seemed to him they reached for her, as they might reach for drops of rain on an arid day. "And these grow in the shadow of this keyanna grove, another sight I wished to share with thee."
Hearing her slip into her patois again, Stephen understood that Teyla's emotions were like to overcome her. He pulled her to him gently, and cupped her face in both of his hands, spoiling her with the kisses he had waited all day to bestow. She pressed her small form against him, and he felt her shiver—the air around them much too warm for it to be anything but with desire. In the quiet dark, it was easy to forget the admonishments Moraine had placed upon him only hours ago.
Somehow, Teyla managed to pull away from his kiss, looking dizzied and a little wanton in the moonlight, one thin strap of her blouse fallen away in his rush to touch her skin. He reached for her again, repeating her name several times as though casting a spell, and feeling drunk on all the beauty around them, but most especially on her own. It was impossible now for him to see her as the ordinary woman that had arrived at Kamar-Taj all those months ago; all he could see now was the beauty of her spirit, the undisguised love for him in her dark, inviting eyes, and the sweetness that she lavished upon him at every turn.
"Come into the grove with me, beloved," she crooned, "That we may lose ourselves a little while in the cover of this night."
Eagerly he followed, wondering if this was the time at last. Did she mean to give herself to him here, beneath the perfume of the keyanna trees, under the benevolent light of the sister-moons? It was like some fantasy he could never have conceived.
Their footfalls were muffled by drifts of soft leaves, and what appeared to be petals fallen from the trees. In the light of day, he might have seen their color better, but in the moonlight, they appeared silvery, and as delicate as the first kisses Teyla had ever given him. Stephen inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the bright, citrusy scent of the keyanna blossoms; their fresh, pure aroma reminded him of orange blossoms back on Earth.
His eyes adjusted quickly to the velvet dark of the grove, while Nonya's light filtered through the canopy of flower-laden branches, dappling the peaceful scene around them with soft, random kisses of moonlight. Stephen discerned a well-worn trail woven throughout the trees, though Teyla had already strayed from that path, guiding them up a small, grassy slope, where sat an outcropping of smooth stone. He saw that the large rock was rooted in the earth, a natural element that some Hadeethan artist had then hewn and polished into a bench of sorts, a perfect complement to the tranquility of its surroundings.
Teyla led him to take a seat, and then settled beside him, speaking in a hushed tone, "This place was ever a sanctuary for me—when I needed to quiet and calm myself enough to attempt some dream interpretation. Or to think upon my hopes and plans, considering the future I wished to forge. And even on those days when I faced the turmoil and confusion of mind and emotions, which come with the growing years."
"Ah, adolescence," he chuckled, "The rush of hormones, the physical changes, the impatience with one's parents…"
"Yes, Stephen…impatience indeed," Teyla laughed. "Now that you have felt my mother's stern authority, you may well imagine my impatience to claim the future I envisioned for myself!"
Stephen reached to stroke her cheek, watching her soften at his touch, letting his hand linger there. "I think you are well on your way now, honey."
She laid her hand upon his, and kissed his palm. "I am," she sighed, "Your love has given me the courage to claim the future I desire. For this reason, I have brought thee here—when I have never shared this special place with any other soul."
He smiled at her revelation, and at the earnest gratitude upon her face. "I'm honored, Teyla—though I think you should give far more credit to yourself."
Her tone turned flirtatious "If you say so, my love." Teyla broke from his gaze, breathing deeply the night air. "I would show thee this by daylight, but it seems I must await another day…" She seemed to hesitate while she decided whether to tell him something more.
"What is it, honey? What are you thinking?"
Turning to him, she studied his face, and lightly traced along his brow, her touch soothing him as it always did. "I must tell you…well…I have dreamt of us, Stephen…here…beneath the keyanna blossoms." Her cheeks grew flushed, so that he understood this was no ordinary dream.
For Teyla's sake, Stephen pressed his lips together to restrain a smile, pleased as much by the pretty blush of color that she wore for him, as by her quiet admission. "As you dreamed of my scarred hands, all those years ago?"
She shook her head. "No…no, I…no…" she lowered her lashes, suddenly shy; "These dreams began only after I came to Kamar-Taj."
He had to bite his lip to keep from grinning, "I see. Only after we met."
"Y…yes," she stammered, "And their nature was far from any dreams I had ever…experienced…before."
Stephen nodded, adoring how fetching she looked in the moonlight. "Of a more private nature," he surmised. At that moment, Cloak withdrew from his shoulders and fluttered away beyond earshot, understanding even before Stephen did, that greater privacy would soon be required
"Yes." She looked to him again, ready to reveal all, "I thought, at first, it was because I saw you as a figure of authority…that perhaps it was my mind's way of working out my need for you…for your approval…"
Now he let himself smile, a little breathless with delight, a little dizzy in the moonlight, remembering the times he had enquired about her dreams, and how she had avoided answering directly.
"And then," she continued, in the same husky voice that often featured in his own dreams, "After you kissed me that first night…after you touched me…I knew that they were dreams born of my desire."
"Yes," he sighed, and reached again to gently stroke her cheek with his thumb, so that she sighed and nestled her cheek against his palm. Encouraged by his touch, she whispered, "Shall I tell thee of the most persistent of my dreams, Stephen Strange?"
"Please, Teyla," he whispered back, caught in the spell she was inadvertently weaving, "Tell me please…and perhaps together we can make it so."
Lightly tracing her fingers along his cheek, then threading her fingertips in his hair, she smiled with wonder, giving answer, "You lay atop me, Stephen. Skin on skin." Her soft, dark eyes enforced the spell that held him rapt. "You speak tenderly, promising to be gentle…"
"Oh god, Teyla…" he murmured, barely able to keep himself from kissing her.
"…and then…oh, Stephen…" she sighed, and closed her eyes, "…my beloved…you pierce me…and…and fill me…and we move as one…"
As ever was her way, she once again o'er threw his resolve to behave, the combination of her guileless innocence and her honesty about her feelings for him too heady for him to resist. How could he turn aside what she now so willingly offered? There was an irresistible magic in this secret garden, and Teyla was the source.
Stephen knew she would allow him to kiss every part of her this night; that she would yield herself without hesitation. Teyla clung so tightly to him, returning his rush of kisses with a fierceness she had never shown before, teasing her tongue against his, stealing his breath as he had done so many times to her, while rooting both hands in his hair. When her mouth sought the flesh of his neck, he allowed her to pull free the lacings of his tunic, reveling as she then traced his throat with moist kisses, and groaning her name when she lingered at its hollow.
Stephen tangled his hands in her hair, on fire where she touched him, shocked as her caresses grew bolder than ever before. "Teyla…baby…honey…slow down, please," he begged her, while she whimpered her need for him, plucking at his tunic in a bid to feel his flesh against hers, skin-to skin. Skin-to-skin, as she had described from her dreams. Skin-to-skin, as it felt like he'd been waiting for forever. Soon his body would forget the promises he had just made to Moraine—and he would become the wolf she feared him to be.
By sheer force of will alone, he pulled away a little, enough to draw breath freely, asserting a discipline he already rued. Carefully, he took Teyla's face in both hands, and began to kiss her softly, forehead, eyelids, cheeks, than the softest kiss of all upon her swollen lips. Under his gentle hands, she began to come back to herself, looking at him wide-eyed, before large teardrops spilled down her flushed cheeks. "I have behaved unseemly," she whispered, so that he kissed her forehead again to ease her needless shame.
"You behaved like a woman in love," he corrected her, "The most beautiful, satisfying compliment I've ever been paid." Stephen pulled her to him, smiling as he buried his face in her hair, and rocking her quietly as she continued to calm. "Don't' think for one moment I'm turning you away, beloved," he told her, using one of her endearments for him for the first time. "Our timing is still just a little off, that's all. I made a few promises to your mother, and you wouldn't have me break them so soon now-would you?"
Teyla sniffled against him, and laughed softly, "It seems she will have her way yet again." She kissed his neck—a comfort to them both—then sat back and began to set his lacings to right. "But it will not always be so."
He held her for a while longer in the moonlight, knowing soon enough he must depart. Of all their separations, Stephen knew that this would be the hardest—for he would now be the one waiting upon a return, while leaving his heart behind him in this moonlit grove. As he stood before the portal back to Earth, he kissed Teyla goodbye, asking her to come to him as soon as she was able, and assuring her of his devotion. To all of this she nodded a tearful yes, unable to speak lest she begin to cry again. He waved to her before the portal closed, focused on the light that shown in her soft, doe-eyes, grateful beyond words that her light shone just for him.