[u]Part 47[/u]
[b]Whitfield Castle - Nottinghamshire, England - Fall 1194[/b]
"Where is Lizzy?" Alexander asked as he descended the stone stairs into the great hall. He held his helmet under one arm and handed his sword to a servant as he reached the bottom, having just finished training the squires under his tutelage for the day.
Mary was seated near the fire, the tapestry she and Elizabeth had been working on for months on its frame in front of her. Alex's sister was biting her full lip, her head tilted to the side as she frowned at the design. She brushed her red-blonde hair, now past her shoulders again, off her face in annoyance as she continued to glare at the tapestry, which in Alexander's humble opinion had likely done nothing to merit such disdain. "I think she took Dickon outside. She didn't tell me though, so I'm not certain. Lizzy's angry with me, so I came down here to work on the tapestry and sulk."
"Why?" Alexander demanded, removing his mailed gloves and thrusting them behind him, where they were quickly caught by the same squire who had taken his sword.
"She wants me to go to court with her for Yule but I won't. The queen is only going to try and sell me off to some old, fat baron again," Mary replied, standing up abruptly and moving towards the fire. "I knew that I should have made Michael meet the old bat before he left. I don't think she believes he really exists."
"Mary mine, Eleanor knows he exists," Alexander replied patiently, settling down on the bench near the tapestry and running his eyes over the intricate weave. "Nor is the queen trying to sell you off, as you know. She is only giving you options. And Lizzy would not ask it of you if she did not need you. You know that she does not feel comfortable in London alone and the queen insists on seeing her godson. Lizzy has no choice." His gaze came to rest on the blonde lady in red peeking out from behind one of the many trees Mary and Elizabeth had included in the pattern, using the rich greens and golds of the forest in the fall. He felt his heart skip a beat, just as it always did, and always would, when he thought of Isabel, who the figure in the tapestry was meant to represent. He raised his gaze and met Mary's blue eyes. "Is it almost done?"
Mary snorted, tossing her head. "How can it almost be done Alexander? We don't know how it ends yet, do we?"
Alex sighed. "No," he admitted, his gaze straying again to the portrait of Bella before him.
"The queen believes they are dead."
Alex's head snapped up and he stared at his sister. "What?"
"I know she does Alexander. It is why she wants me to marry. You may not believe it, but I know the old bat. She hasn't said it straight out yet, but it is only a matter of time. The longer I stay away from her, the less likely she is to push me."
Something in Mary's tone froze the blood in Alex's veins. "Mary, you don't believe it too, do you?" He asked quietly, standing and going to stand near his sister.
None of them had ever voiced such doubts to each other. It had been a silent pact between he, Mary and Elizabeth that they would never even contemplate that the others might not return.
But with each passing month, he had felt the doubts beginning to creep in. They had all refused to acknowledge them, but it had been more than two years since Maxwell, Michael and Isabel had left. Their goal had been to find a healer for Elizabeth. Although the healer had not been necessary in the end, there was no way the alien trio could have known this. Bringing one now would be slightly ridiculous.
If they were coming back, they should have been back long ago. The three left behind were all thinking it, but none of them wanted to admit it. Because if the alien three did not return it could only be for one of two reasons. Either they [I]couldn't[/I], because something horrible had happened to them.
Or else they didn't want to.
What if their friends had gone back to their real home and had figured out that it was where they belonged? What if they had also realized that the three humans had no place in that world? What if they had decided that because Elizabeth was likely gone, going back for the other two was not worth it?
"I know Michael isn't dead," Mary whispered now, her eyes bright with tears. She raised her hand, touched it to her chest over her heart. "I would know it here if he were. But Alex, they should have returned long ago! Their only goal was to find a healer for Lizzy. It has been far too long for that."
"We cannot give up hope Mary. It is unfair to them. We know that they had many things about which they had to concern themselves. Perhaps they must get their kingdom in order before they can return." Alexander played his role, allowed himself to stay the voice of reason. And, yet, he knew that Mary understood that he was merely saying the words. He did not believe them anymore either.
Mary came to lean against him, sighing. "How much longer must we be alone Alex? I am so tired of being alone. I never knew how alone I was until I met him. And, yet, I have never felt more lonely since either."
"You love him. And I love her. And so we must wait my sister."
There was a long silence as the siblings contemplated the flames together. After a while, Alexander's gaze strayed back to the tapestry in spite of himself. He started, then blinked. He looked back at the fire, blinked again, then looked back at the tapestry.
What had captured his attention was still there.
The tapestry had been designed by Elizabeth, meant to be a permanent record of the adventure the three of them had shared in the forest with the loves of their lives. Alex's friend had used the Bayeux tapestry as her model, each picture on the long piece of fabric representing one moment during the few short weeks they had known the visitors. All the most important scenes were there: the original betrothal of Kyle and Elizabeth, the fair in Nottingham where they had all first come together, the archery contest, the rescue of Elizabeth from her hasty wedding, the marriage of Max and Lizzy, the return of Eleanor to Nottingham, the defeat of Lord Edmund by Sir Kyle and the seeming death of Elizabeth. The only thing that had been left out were the magical elements, so at to not draw undo attention from the retainers. Reliving it all through her art had been a way for Lizzy to feel close to Max during the long winter of her pregnancy and after her confinement she had returned to her work, asking Mary to join her.
For months now the two young ladies had been almost finished, merely refining the details, unable to complete the tapestry because Mary was right. There was no ending. Alexander had enjoyed watching it take shape over that same period, wishing with every part of him that the design would someday be finished.
And now, for the first time he noticed something he had never seen in the intricate design, as many times as he had looked at it.
Alexander moved away from Mary and went to kneel next to the frame. "Mary, what [I]is[/I] this?" He asked, lifting the fabric trailing off the right side.
Mary came up behind him. "It's nothing. We have stitched the background to the end of it but there are no figures because we don't know how it will." He knew the exact moment his sister realized what he was talking about. "Alex! There are pictures there!"
Alexander's heart started to beat more quickly. He stood, lifting the weave with him and staring down at it in disbelief. "Did Lizzy do this?"
"When? Alexander, there is no way she could have done it! I would have noticed!"
"But Mary, it is [I]here[/I]."
They both stared down at the tapestry, at the three separate images that had appeared upon it, as if by magic.
Mary was the first to move. "We need to go to the pod chamber Alex. Right now." She grabbed him by the arm and practically hauled him after her. Not that he needed any urging after he understood exactly what this meant.
"What about Lizzy?" He asked as they hurried to the stables.
"You saw the picture Alex. He will find her."
**************************************************
Elizabeth threw back her head, sighing with pleasure as the sunlight danced across her face. It was strange for it to be this brilliant so late in the year, but she certainly was not displeased. The winter would be long and hard, just as the last two had been and the more time she could spend out of doors before being shut away for months, the happier she was. Besides, if she really did need to honour the queen's wishes and make the journey to London for Yule, she preferred to get as much fresh air as possible before leaving.
"Mama."
Elizabeth lowered her face, smiled at her small son, who was toddling towards her, his arms outstretched. When he reached her, she scooped him up and buried her face in his neck. "Are you ready to go back precious?"
Dickon shook his head stubbornly, making her laugh. "Pretty!"
"Very well. Go look for more flowers." Trying to tell a one and a half year old that flowers didn't grow this late in the year was a near impossibility after all.
She set him down on his sturdy little legs and watched him carefully as he began to investigate the fringes of the forest for his "pretties." She perched herself on a large boulder nearby, wrapping her cloak more securely around her shoulders. It was indeed sunny, but a little colder than she had first realized.
Being cold always made her remember the freezing night she had spent wrapped in Max's arms in the forest. She had not felt any of it then, only aware of his steadily beating heart at her back, of his warm breath on her neck.
And, yet, she had still left him that night, in spite of his wishes, had gone off to try and rescue Tess all by herself. That one act had resulted in all the catastrophes that had followed. Max had ended up leaving the planet because she had forsaken him that night.
It was when she was cold that she wished, yet again, that she had truly followed her heart then - that she had stayed safe and secure in Max's arms on the night she was sure their son had been conceived.
Her son had come into the world on a colder than usual May night a year and a half ago. There had been no complications, although the pregnancy had been shorter than normal. She had feared for her baby when her pains had started, but when he was born hale and hardy, they had decided that it was just a quirk due to the fact that his father was not altogether normal, which had been reinforced by the fact that he had continued to develop more quickly than most children. He spoke his first word at seven months and had taken his first step two months after that.
He had been christened Richard Maxwell DeHarding, the former for his royal godfather, the latter for his equally kingly father. The English monarch had bestowed the lands surrounding Castle DeHarding upon his young ward and had also decreed that the baby's father should retain them under title of baron when he returned from "crusade."
King Richard still had no true understanding of what he owed Maxwell DeHarding, but his mother had made sure that Elizabeth's husband received what he was due in his absence anyway. In their one meeting Max had completely charmed the old woman. She watched over Elizabeth even more closely since his departure, although Elizabeth thought that the queen was beginning to believe that Max would not return and was making sure that those he had left behind were well provided for.
Elizabeth had refused to acknowledge that she had started to question it herself. She never openly thought about it, had always believed in her heart and soul that, if he could, Max would come back. But it was not until she had risen with the sun that morning, had descended into the great hall of Alex's castle and had frantically finished the tapestry, the images so clear in her head she had to get them down on fabric before they disappeared, that she understood that it was so.
Now that she knew it was only a matter of time until he returned, she could allow herself to admit that she had wondered if he might not.
"Dickon!" Elizabeth called when she realized suddenly that her son was out of sight. "Come back sweeting." She hopped off the boulder, hurried over to where she had last seen him, only seconds ago. He had disappeared behind a tree.
The small boy came toddling back into the clearing, holding his hands out in front of him. Elizabeth felt her heart stop as she took in the single, perfect wild rose Dickon held before him.
"Pretty!" The little boy crowed with triumph.
Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Where did you get that sweeting?" There was absolutely no way a rose could grow in Sherwood at this time of year.
She knelt in front of her son and pulled him against her, smiling in spite of herself as he thrust the flower under her nose. "Pretty. For Mama."
'Thank you my sweetheart," Elizabeth whispered, laying her cheek against his dark head and raising her eyes.
"From Papa," the little boy continued, oblivious to the fact that his mother had already frozen.
She could not move. If she blinked, or if she even breathed, the moment would be over and he would be gone.
In the end, she did not have to move because he did first, allowing her to gasp in disbelief, "Max!"
He fell to his knees beside them. She could see that his hand was trembling as he reached out and carefully traced the contours of her face. "I have dreamt this moment so many times, it almost feels unreal," he finally said, his voice whisper-soft, as if speaking more loudly would wake them both.
"I have dreamt it also." She turned her face so that she could kiss the palm of his hand - one of the magical hands that had saved her life so long ago. The hands that had touched her and had taught her what [I]living[/I] really meant.
The hands that their small son already possessed.
"They told me it was true on Antar. Mary and Alexander confirmed it as well. But until this moment, I did not truly believe that you lived," Max admitted, pulling her gently against him. Dickon squealed in protest, making them both laugh and breaking the moment.
Elizabeth could feel tears streaming down her face and, yet, she could not stop smiling. "Until this moment, I did not," she whispered against his neck.
[b]Whitfield Castle - Nottinghamshire, England - Fall 1194[/b]
"Where is Lizzy?" Alexander asked as he descended the stone stairs into the great hall. He held his helmet under one arm and handed his sword to a servant as he reached the bottom, having just finished training the squires under his tutelage for the day.
Mary was seated near the fire, the tapestry she and Elizabeth had been working on for months on its frame in front of her. Alex's sister was biting her full lip, her head tilted to the side as she frowned at the design. She brushed her red-blonde hair, now past her shoulders again, off her face in annoyance as she continued to glare at the tapestry, which in Alexander's humble opinion had likely done nothing to merit such disdain. "I think she took Dickon outside. She didn't tell me though, so I'm not certain. Lizzy's angry with me, so I came down here to work on the tapestry and sulk."
"Why?" Alexander demanded, removing his mailed gloves and thrusting them behind him, where they were quickly caught by the same squire who had taken his sword.
"She wants me to go to court with her for Yule but I won't. The queen is only going to try and sell me off to some old, fat baron again," Mary replied, standing up abruptly and moving towards the fire. "I knew that I should have made Michael meet the old bat before he left. I don't think she believes he really exists."
"Mary mine, Eleanor knows he exists," Alexander replied patiently, settling down on the bench near the tapestry and running his eyes over the intricate weave. "Nor is the queen trying to sell you off, as you know. She is only giving you options. And Lizzy would not ask it of you if she did not need you. You know that she does not feel comfortable in London alone and the queen insists on seeing her godson. Lizzy has no choice." His gaze came to rest on the blonde lady in red peeking out from behind one of the many trees Mary and Elizabeth had included in the pattern, using the rich greens and golds of the forest in the fall. He felt his heart skip a beat, just as it always did, and always would, when he thought of Isabel, who the figure in the tapestry was meant to represent. He raised his gaze and met Mary's blue eyes. "Is it almost done?"
Mary snorted, tossing her head. "How can it almost be done Alexander? We don't know how it ends yet, do we?"
Alex sighed. "No," he admitted, his gaze straying again to the portrait of Bella before him.
"The queen believes they are dead."
Alex's head snapped up and he stared at his sister. "What?"
"I know she does Alexander. It is why she wants me to marry. You may not believe it, but I know the old bat. She hasn't said it straight out yet, but it is only a matter of time. The longer I stay away from her, the less likely she is to push me."
Something in Mary's tone froze the blood in Alex's veins. "Mary, you don't believe it too, do you?" He asked quietly, standing and going to stand near his sister.
None of them had ever voiced such doubts to each other. It had been a silent pact between he, Mary and Elizabeth that they would never even contemplate that the others might not return.
But with each passing month, he had felt the doubts beginning to creep in. They had all refused to acknowledge them, but it had been more than two years since Maxwell, Michael and Isabel had left. Their goal had been to find a healer for Elizabeth. Although the healer had not been necessary in the end, there was no way the alien trio could have known this. Bringing one now would be slightly ridiculous.
If they were coming back, they should have been back long ago. The three left behind were all thinking it, but none of them wanted to admit it. Because if the alien three did not return it could only be for one of two reasons. Either they [I]couldn't[/I], because something horrible had happened to them.
Or else they didn't want to.
What if their friends had gone back to their real home and had figured out that it was where they belonged? What if they had also realized that the three humans had no place in that world? What if they had decided that because Elizabeth was likely gone, going back for the other two was not worth it?
"I know Michael isn't dead," Mary whispered now, her eyes bright with tears. She raised her hand, touched it to her chest over her heart. "I would know it here if he were. But Alex, they should have returned long ago! Their only goal was to find a healer for Lizzy. It has been far too long for that."
"We cannot give up hope Mary. It is unfair to them. We know that they had many things about which they had to concern themselves. Perhaps they must get their kingdom in order before they can return." Alexander played his role, allowed himself to stay the voice of reason. And, yet, he knew that Mary understood that he was merely saying the words. He did not believe them anymore either.
Mary came to lean against him, sighing. "How much longer must we be alone Alex? I am so tired of being alone. I never knew how alone I was until I met him. And, yet, I have never felt more lonely since either."
"You love him. And I love her. And so we must wait my sister."
There was a long silence as the siblings contemplated the flames together. After a while, Alexander's gaze strayed back to the tapestry in spite of himself. He started, then blinked. He looked back at the fire, blinked again, then looked back at the tapestry.
What had captured his attention was still there.
The tapestry had been designed by Elizabeth, meant to be a permanent record of the adventure the three of them had shared in the forest with the loves of their lives. Alex's friend had used the Bayeux tapestry as her model, each picture on the long piece of fabric representing one moment during the few short weeks they had known the visitors. All the most important scenes were there: the original betrothal of Kyle and Elizabeth, the fair in Nottingham where they had all first come together, the archery contest, the rescue of Elizabeth from her hasty wedding, the marriage of Max and Lizzy, the return of Eleanor to Nottingham, the defeat of Lord Edmund by Sir Kyle and the seeming death of Elizabeth. The only thing that had been left out were the magical elements, so at to not draw undo attention from the retainers. Reliving it all through her art had been a way for Lizzy to feel close to Max during the long winter of her pregnancy and after her confinement she had returned to her work, asking Mary to join her.
For months now the two young ladies had been almost finished, merely refining the details, unable to complete the tapestry because Mary was right. There was no ending. Alexander had enjoyed watching it take shape over that same period, wishing with every part of him that the design would someday be finished.
And now, for the first time he noticed something he had never seen in the intricate design, as many times as he had looked at it.
Alexander moved away from Mary and went to kneel next to the frame. "Mary, what [I]is[/I] this?" He asked, lifting the fabric trailing off the right side.
Mary came up behind him. "It's nothing. We have stitched the background to the end of it but there are no figures because we don't know how it will." He knew the exact moment his sister realized what he was talking about. "Alex! There are pictures there!"
Alexander's heart started to beat more quickly. He stood, lifting the weave with him and staring down at it in disbelief. "Did Lizzy do this?"
"When? Alexander, there is no way she could have done it! I would have noticed!"
"But Mary, it is [I]here[/I]."
They both stared down at the tapestry, at the three separate images that had appeared upon it, as if by magic.
Mary was the first to move. "We need to go to the pod chamber Alex. Right now." She grabbed him by the arm and practically hauled him after her. Not that he needed any urging after he understood exactly what this meant.
"What about Lizzy?" He asked as they hurried to the stables.
"You saw the picture Alex. He will find her."
**************************************************
Elizabeth threw back her head, sighing with pleasure as the sunlight danced across her face. It was strange for it to be this brilliant so late in the year, but she certainly was not displeased. The winter would be long and hard, just as the last two had been and the more time she could spend out of doors before being shut away for months, the happier she was. Besides, if she really did need to honour the queen's wishes and make the journey to London for Yule, she preferred to get as much fresh air as possible before leaving.
"Mama."
Elizabeth lowered her face, smiled at her small son, who was toddling towards her, his arms outstretched. When he reached her, she scooped him up and buried her face in his neck. "Are you ready to go back precious?"
Dickon shook his head stubbornly, making her laugh. "Pretty!"
"Very well. Go look for more flowers." Trying to tell a one and a half year old that flowers didn't grow this late in the year was a near impossibility after all.
She set him down on his sturdy little legs and watched him carefully as he began to investigate the fringes of the forest for his "pretties." She perched herself on a large boulder nearby, wrapping her cloak more securely around her shoulders. It was indeed sunny, but a little colder than she had first realized.
Being cold always made her remember the freezing night she had spent wrapped in Max's arms in the forest. She had not felt any of it then, only aware of his steadily beating heart at her back, of his warm breath on her neck.
And, yet, she had still left him that night, in spite of his wishes, had gone off to try and rescue Tess all by herself. That one act had resulted in all the catastrophes that had followed. Max had ended up leaving the planet because she had forsaken him that night.
It was when she was cold that she wished, yet again, that she had truly followed her heart then - that she had stayed safe and secure in Max's arms on the night she was sure their son had been conceived.
Her son had come into the world on a colder than usual May night a year and a half ago. There had been no complications, although the pregnancy had been shorter than normal. She had feared for her baby when her pains had started, but when he was born hale and hardy, they had decided that it was just a quirk due to the fact that his father was not altogether normal, which had been reinforced by the fact that he had continued to develop more quickly than most children. He spoke his first word at seven months and had taken his first step two months after that.
He had been christened Richard Maxwell DeHarding, the former for his royal godfather, the latter for his equally kingly father. The English monarch had bestowed the lands surrounding Castle DeHarding upon his young ward and had also decreed that the baby's father should retain them under title of baron when he returned from "crusade."
King Richard still had no true understanding of what he owed Maxwell DeHarding, but his mother had made sure that Elizabeth's husband received what he was due in his absence anyway. In their one meeting Max had completely charmed the old woman. She watched over Elizabeth even more closely since his departure, although Elizabeth thought that the queen was beginning to believe that Max would not return and was making sure that those he had left behind were well provided for.
Elizabeth had refused to acknowledge that she had started to question it herself. She never openly thought about it, had always believed in her heart and soul that, if he could, Max would come back. But it was not until she had risen with the sun that morning, had descended into the great hall of Alex's castle and had frantically finished the tapestry, the images so clear in her head she had to get them down on fabric before they disappeared, that she understood that it was so.
Now that she knew it was only a matter of time until he returned, she could allow herself to admit that she had wondered if he might not.
"Dickon!" Elizabeth called when she realized suddenly that her son was out of sight. "Come back sweeting." She hopped off the boulder, hurried over to where she had last seen him, only seconds ago. He had disappeared behind a tree.
The small boy came toddling back into the clearing, holding his hands out in front of him. Elizabeth felt her heart stop as she took in the single, perfect wild rose Dickon held before him.
"Pretty!" The little boy crowed with triumph.
Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Where did you get that sweeting?" There was absolutely no way a rose could grow in Sherwood at this time of year.
She knelt in front of her son and pulled him against her, smiling in spite of herself as he thrust the flower under her nose. "Pretty. For Mama."
'Thank you my sweetheart," Elizabeth whispered, laying her cheek against his dark head and raising her eyes.
"From Papa," the little boy continued, oblivious to the fact that his mother had already frozen.
She could not move. If she blinked, or if she even breathed, the moment would be over and he would be gone.
In the end, she did not have to move because he did first, allowing her to gasp in disbelief, "Max!"
He fell to his knees beside them. She could see that his hand was trembling as he reached out and carefully traced the contours of her face. "I have dreamt this moment so many times, it almost feels unreal," he finally said, his voice whisper-soft, as if speaking more loudly would wake them both.
"I have dreamt it also." She turned her face so that she could kiss the palm of his hand - one of the magical hands that had saved her life so long ago. The hands that had touched her and had taught her what [I]living[/I] really meant.
The hands that their small son already possessed.
"They told me it was true on Antar. Mary and Alexander confirmed it as well. But until this moment, I did not truly believe that you lived," Max admitted, pulling her gently against him. Dickon squealed in protest, making them both laugh and breaking the moment.
Elizabeth could feel tears streaming down her face and, yet, she could not stop smiling. "Until this moment, I did not," she whispered against his neck.