"Another Tale of Loss" (Rose)

Merlin sits up, staying near to me, and dries his eyes. "Feel better?" I ask.

"Much, thank you," he smiles a little.

"No need for thanks," I set my hands in my lap, "I know it's not easy losing someone you cared for in that way ... It can take a while to get over ... especially if you don't have a good cry about it."

"You've been through something similar?" he questions.

"Sort of," I fess, "But he isn't dead, that I know of."

"Who is he? Is he a Woodward?"

"Yes," I bite my lip, trying to distract from the pain of remembering, "His name is Roland."

"Was he a part of your clan?"

"For a time, yes," I nod.

"If you don't mind me asking ... What happened to him?"

I sigh, closing my eyes, "No, I don't mind ... It's just hard to speak of it, simply because I never told anyone about the details of what transpired."

"What about your fa-" he stops short, suddenly recalling why we are here to begin with.

"He knew ... about most of it," I admit. "None of this will make sense unless I tell you the whole story and explain a few things. So, I'll start from the beginning."

He watches me intently, not saying a word more. I take a deep breath to speak the words of a story that no one living, besides the other party involved, knows about. "Roland's family became rogues for insisting on practicing magic when my father would not allow it. He did not recall the reasons why, when he was a small child, that he and his parents were always alone. He was born a couple of years before me, and it was after the instance of their separation from our community. He wasn't old enough to retain all of his parents' bitterness for our people. When I was seven years old, I was playing in the woods near our camp. I heard a ruckus going on somewhere close by, and this provoked excitement in my ever-present and brewing curiosity. I'm sure you can guess what I did."

He laughs through his nose lightly, "You went to see what it was."

"Right you are," I point up at the sky. "As I closed in on the noise, I heard harsh, raised voices. I crept nearer and nearer up to the space where I was sure I would find a fight. Just as I poked my head out from behind a tree trunk, I saw a young boy shoved to his knees close to a couple, laying there, blood seeping out of their wounds in a pool around them. A soldier's blade hovering next to his neck, the boy gulped and clamped his eyes shut. The man brought his sword back, preparing to swing, when I acted impulsively by jumping out and blowing my cover."

"That sounds like something you would be brave enough to do," he remarks.

"I don't know about brave" I shake my head, "But I was stupid enough to do it."

I continue to tell him how the soldier and the boy gaped at me, and then the man burst into laughter when I yelled at him to release the boy, and about how I made the mistake of adding on the words "or else". "Now, of course, this did not help the man take me seriously. He merely laughed harder and challenged me, 'Or else, what? If this boy is to leave here alive, that means someone is going to have to stop me. Who is it going to be?' I had to confess there was no one there besides him, but the boy and me. So I simply, stated the inevitable, 'Me- I'll stop you.'"

"That took a lot of guts," Merlin points out, "There's no way you can deny that took courage."

"Well, yes, but a moment of courage does not make anyone brave," I counter.

He urges me to go on, so I do. What I tell him is this: The soldier apparently did not have enough entertainment out of me, so he asked with a laugh, "Oh, yeah? And what are you going to do? Bite my ankle?"

"That's not a bad idea," I said, considering it for a few seconds. My eyes met with the boy's. I recalled the light blue and a bit grayish color in his eyes. I remember how dilated his pupils had become from fear of losing his life. I felt the forming of a bond in an instant, as well as the silent passing of understanding between the two of us.

An idea sprung up in my mind, and it looked like he got the hint from the look I was giving him. I nodded at him, a small, barely noticeable, single nod. He did the same back to me. I turned and ran off into the woods behind me. I heard the soldier shout after me, "Go on! Run like the little girl you are!"

I was running like the little girl I was. The thing about that is- the little girl I was, was very impetuous and a bit of a sneak. I can't blame him for not knowing me better. I circled around, making sure, I was far enough to not be seen (and I've already told of how Woodwards possess that gift). I re-approached from the back, and a little to the side, (so diagonally from where they were. I did not slow my pace, but increased it, jumping onto the soldier as the boy swept him off his feet by hitting him in the crook of the knee. I sat on top of him, pulling out my dagger as the boy pinned his arm with the sword in it, to the ground. I held the tip at his chin, "Meet my 'or else'."

He laughed, but not because of my jab at him, but his literal jab at me. He clobbered my side, sending me rolling off him and onto the boy. I had dropped my dagger and the soldier gripped his sword, the end pointing at us. He lifted the blade, swinging downward, but his strike never reached us. He stopped, as if frozen in time, and then fell to the forest floor. Everything happened so fast that I sat there staring, feeling like my eyes were going to pop right out, breathing hard I asked, "What just happened?" I saw something sticking out of the man's chest. 'That wasn't there before,' I puzzled to myself.

The boy rose to his feet, "I dirtied your weapon." I looked away and gasped as he pulled it out.

"Is he-?" I asked, stricken with horror.

"Yes. I had to do it," he bit, "He was going to kill us."

"I- I know," I stammered, "It's just ... I've never seen anyone die before."

"Lucky you," he said bitterly.

I looked back over at the two dead or dying persons I saw before. I scrambled to my feet and went to tend to them. "It's too late," the boy stopped me. "They're dead."

"Did he do this?" I asked, speaking of the soldier.

"Yes," the boy shot a dirty look his way.

"Who are these people?"

"My parents," he swallowed.

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't find the words to say. "I'm sorry," I bit my bottom lip. He didn't respond. He went about his business, cleaning the fresh, warm blood off my dagger. "What are you going to do? Since your parents are ..." I didn't finish. There was no need to.

"I don't ... I don't know," he said, with the first shred of sorrow in his voice.

"Have you no family?" I asked sadly.

"Not anymore. It's always been just the three of us," tears threatened to make an appearance on his cheeks.

"Well, then," I stood up shakily, "Come with me," I held out my hand to him.

"Really?" he stared at me, disbelief flooding his expression.

"You saved my life," I said, "This is the least I can do."

"You saved me first," he stated.

"So then, we're even, but since we saved each other, that makes us fast friends. Friends don't leave friends behind," I concluded.

"So, you're refusing to leave me behind," he derived.

"Yep," I smiled.

"So, I brought him home to Father, and as I said, he had known his parents. However, he was unaware of Roland's birth, and even after he found out who he was, he was still willing to give him the chance to do what his parents would not. He wasn't going to judge him for their actions," I explain a little further.

"That was good of him," Merlin looks out over the lake, keeping strong, "I don't know if I would have trusted him."

"Well, I think my father always kept a special eye on him, but over time, he became attached to Roland. Soon, he took him in officially, and he became a son to him."

"That must have made it a little easier for you two in your ... relationship."

"Later on, yes," I venture to say, "However, this was not a love at first sight situation. To be frank, Roland got on my nerves a majority of the time. There were moments when I had to stop myself from smacking his smug face. He was such a know-it-all, and had this arrogance and an obsession with power."

"He doesn't sound very appealing to anyone, least ways a girl like you."

I consider this, "As much as I hate to say it, I don't think I would be who I am today without him. For about a year, he was always a crotchety older brother figure to me, but as time went on, things changed between us. I remember when they did for me..." I become a bit dreamy and go on to tell the next chapter of my love story:

It was a year later, and I was totally devastated by my mother's violent (as far as sicknesses go) death. Roland never would show much emotion at all, let alone affection. The day she died, he did the unthinkable. He wrapped me in the warmest hug I have ever received and cried for me. A fuzzy feeling filled my heart and I gratefully hugged him back. Ever since then, I saw this other side to Roland- this softer, loving, and far more loveable side. From that point on, he was a strong son to my father, and a knight in shining armor to me.

"Over the years, we started to observe each other in a different light. He did become quite handsome and I always adored his eyes. I suppose, he took a fancy to me somewhere along the way, as well. God only knows why ..." I trail off. Having the knowledge that once, I had someone that cared for me as much as I cared for them, burns me intensely. It also strikes fear in my heart that I will never possess that again.

"That sounds nice," Merlin says dreamily.

"It was," I have to admit, "But it did not last. His parents practiced black magic, but never bothered to teach him any, because they knew he could not perform such feats at that time in his life. One day about two years ago, he was out with my father, and he spoke to a large black bird- just in passing, the way you might a bunny rabbit. That was when he heard the crow's voice in his head. Now, of course, this did not register as normal. He confronted my father, asked him how this could be. When my father explained that he had magic, Roland became bitter that this information was withheld from him. Truth be told, my father never thought it was relevant to tell him of his magic since he was forbidden to use it anyways. Roland did not see eye to eye with him on the matter. He stuck around, but began to play the parts of son and knight. He was no longer dedicated- he only acted. He began to practice and train his magic, each day. I had become suspicious. Given his record to spend his time with me, I did not know what averted his attentions from me. I followed him on one of his 'walks' and caught him conjuring something. The first time, I talked to him about it. I told him the dangers, and he promised never to do it again, that he was going to stop.

"For a while, I trusted him, but something did not sit right with me. I watched him carefully. His countenance had grown dark in an evil way, and his eyes no longer sparkled. I went to my father immediately, but secretly. It turns out that he already knew of Roland's treachery and more. It wasn't just that he was using magic, but that he was defying my father. Father told me he was leery that he was messing with the dark arts. I refused to believe him, but my heart and head both knew it to be true. I had to be sure. I had to see for myself. My father did not blame me for feeling such. He guided me to Roland's tent and showed me a few of his hidden possessions that he had stumbled across, completely by accident. I was glad he did, and furious all at the same time. Roland walked in on us, and my father begged him to cease his foolishness. Roland only challenged and detested him. That day, he struck out on his own."

"He chose to be rogue?" Merlin puzzles, not understanding the madness that is Roland.

"Well, he knew the consequences, so yes- instead of being made to leave, he left on his own terms," I let my face fall, reliving old horrors, "But that wasn't all he did. I was on my way to gather some water when he came after me. He grabbed me, made sure I knew it was he who held me so I wouldn't cry out for help. I spun around, madder than ever, and punched him in the gut. He took a few, pain-filled steps back, and showed me a hand, asking for mercy..." I proceed in telling what transpired:

"What could you possibly want from me?" I nearly yelled at him.

"I want you to come with me," he said through huffs, trying to catch his breath.

"Come with you ... after what you've done?" The very sight of him appalled me.

"We could be together. We could be happy. Don't you understand our gift? You possess it, too! Your father is a powerful man, but we would be more powerful together than he could ever dream to be. We could rule these people right, let them be what they are supposed to be."

"Are you suggesting that we overthrow the man who raised us both, the man who loves us more than life itself?!" I shouted at him.

"He sent me away!"

"He gave you a choice! You betrayed him! You betrayed me!" Tears streamed down my face, and my voice became strained. "I loved you and I thought you loved me! You are nothing but a liar and a traitor! I would never take the path that you travel down, for it will surely lead to doom for more than just yourself. I warned you! You said ... you said you would stop. You promised," I choked.

"You are a fool to listen to your father. He only holds you back. He keeps you from your true potential."

"Then so be it," I stomped off, never to see him again.

"Send Off" (Merlin)

"Wow," I utter, "That's awful... I'm so sorry that happened to you. You deserve better."

"I'm glad you think so," she says turning away from me.

"You don't agree?" I figure.

"No, I do not," she looks back at the ground in front of her, "I shouldn't have trusted him. It was my own fault. I brought it upon my father and myself. I caused his heartbreak. He never would have known a thing about Roland if it wasn't for me. I let myself love a monster."

"If you think about it," I interject, "So did I. In the back of my mind, I knew that Gaius was right- that Freya was the beast, but I refused to listen to anyone, including myself, on the matter. I believed she was truly good, and she was. She couldn't control herself. Maybe, Roland can't either. He can't help who his parents were. It's only natural that their traits and tendencies be passed on. You cannot change what you are."

"But you have a choice in who you become. He chose to follow in his parents' footsteps, and I choose to follow in mine," she resolves. "Freya was not a monster ... and neither are you. I know you said that was one of the ways you felt connected to her, because you feel the pain of her isolation- to be afraid of who you are. I, too, understand this. I am the very last of my kind, and I have never been more frightened, nor felt so," she chokes on her words, "alone."

"As long as I'm around, you will never, ever be alone," I put my arm around her and rub her shoulder.

She cries, and eventually touches my hand, stopping its movements. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, "Thank you, Merlin. That really means a great deal to me."

"Are you ready to take care of your father now?" I ask, remembering the initial reason why we are here.

"Yes," she nearly whispers, but somehow, still sounds sure of herself.

I stand and extend my hand down to her. She takes it and pushes herself off the ground, rising to her feet. "One problem," I state, "I haven't a boat to ..." I can't finish. We have to burn him and I'd rather not remind her just yet.

"It's alright. We have never used boats," she informs me.

"What do you do for the dead, then?"

"Well," she begins, "We only burn the bodies of nobles in our water ceremonies. I have only seen this done once, when my mother died ..."

"What do we do?" I ask, trying to divert her from further depressing subjects.

"We need long grass to weave a matt. It produces more smoke due to its green color, and if it does not burn completely, it does no harm to any creatures living in the water."

"That's clever," I say, lamely attempting to lighten things, and she nods with a small and tight smile before turning off to do what needs doing.

I help her collect the thick blades, and when we have enough of them, we start to work. "The way we honor the rest of the dead, is by picking a certain type of flower for each person- one that reminds us of them. I know where there are many different kinds of them, so we needn't worry about that."

"Alright," I back up as we finish. "It's time."

I carry her father's body over to the matt, now waiting in the shallow water. As Rose brings the flowers that she hand chose them for the others, I place him gently down, fearing it will sink. "Don't worry, it is quite buoyant," Rose assures me. I let him go completely. "Go ahead," she tells me. I murmur a spell to move him forward on his way, and she places the flowers in the water and pushes them into the current from the matt with her fingers. She whispers a farewell, calling the people by name.

She's down the last one, and once she places it into the water, I ready myself to light the body ablaze. I lift my hand to do the task, "Wait!" she stops me, "There is one last thing I need to do ... I need your help again." She peers up at me with a certain look in her eye, "I need a rose, a red one."

"I can do that." I know a spell to conjure a rose, and she knows of this because of what I told her before about Freya. "Blostma," I whisper into my clamped hands. I slowly open them, cupping a small, delicate rose, and ask, "Who is this for?"

All she says is "Do this one with me."

I cannot pinpoint the meaning behind this. I did not know anyone she knew that had passed. She should be the one to initiate the send off, not me. "Hold on to the rose, and give me your hand," she gently instructs. She puts her hand over my fist, which clutches the short stem of the small rose. She suspends our hands just on the surface of the water, the small waves lapping against the side of our hands.

"Freya," she speaks softly, I immediately remove my eyes from our touching hands and onto her face, smiling sadly, "I wanted to thank you for what you did for Merlin. You have played a big part in his life and had a hand in making him who he is today. I must say, you did a wonderful job ... As it was his destiny, for a time, to take care of you, and you for him in another sense, it is mine to do so now. I promise to fulfill this to the best of my ability. I am sorry it was not your fate to stay with him forever, but please know that a part of his heart will always belong to you, no matter what. You were his first love, and he will never forget that."

Tears spill from my eyes once again as we release the flower into the tiny waves of the glistening lake water. "You may spark the flame," she says, standing, her voice strained. I raise my hand, and sputter out the spell to do so. The fire leaps up from the body and engorges the grass matt. Rose loses strength and falls to her knees.

I catch her just before she hits the ground, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," she admits tearfully.

"How are you feeling? Do you feel weak?"

"I don't know," she says again, "I can't feel. I can't feel anything."