Author's Notes: . . . for those of you who are squeamish about passions
and whatnot, I suggest you look away now. Read at your own risk;
Midsummer's a volatile time.but for you educated souls who have read The
Mists of Avalon, you'll know what to expect. ^.^
Night and day faded into one as time passed in the High Court of King Caleb. Ailani's bruises faded; but the ones on her spirit did not.
Calix considered that point, perched on the branch of a silverwood tree high above the city. A light breeze stirred his inky-black hair, getting it into his green eyes, as he pondered the puzzle that was Ailani de Braska Guado. Every time he had tried to get close to her, she had (sometimes violently) pushed him away. She spent hours on one of the open promenades, practicing moves with her sword, over and over and over. Her face, during those times that she let him see her in her fluid dance with the blades, was stony. The ice on her eyes had grown back over the fires, and for the moment they lay dormant.
Calix did not want to see what would happen were they ever to be stoked again.
Calix sighed in frustration, and laced his fingers behind his head, staring at the night sky. Below him, the sounds of the Midsummer Festival drifted up, twining around the branches as the elves celebrated the coming of summer, of long days and cooling dips in the streams that ran through Silverwood. Somewhere below him, Ailani walked the streets, welcomed in her garb of the priestesses of Avalon. Calix supposed he should go down and make himself present at the festivities; his father was already down there, undoubtedly dancing with the Spring Maiden - whoever that would be. Probably Gwendolyn, again, though that she-elf was far from a maiden.
Leaping down the branches, he found himself in the middle of one of the smaller, but no less used, dancing squares. No sooner had he landed than he was caught up by some woman, and caught up in the flow of the music. Flutes, stringed instruments, and drums provided a healthy beat, and the singing of various elves added to the excitement. It was not uncommon for some to go into a kind of frenzy; at Midsummer, the magic flowed freely from all sources, and those more sensitive to its ebb and flow tended to go a little mad. Now, the magical tides were at their fullest, and Calix gloried in them. After a few turns around the square, now quite giddy from adrenaline and the fullness of the magic, he made off for the much larger main square, and was again caught up - but this time, by Ailani.
She danced lightly, seeming to float above the ground; her waist was so small that Calix thought he could put his hands around it and the tips of his longest fingers would touch. The muscles under her robes tightened and relaxed as they spun around in the dance. But not her slim figure, nor her incredible agility, was what got Calix's attention.
She was smiling.
For the first time since she had flew from Bevelle, she was smiling with something other than malice or hate. Her eyes were lit with the fires, but they were fires of happiness, joy, and the deep burning that all priestess' eyes held at times when they were feeling their magic, when they were closest to their Goddess.
On this day, many elves took the Old Rites upon themselves, going back into the forests and burning fires and laying with whoever came to them. Normally, elves were not so free with their bodies. But, elves being the magical beings they are, the fullness of life came to all but the youngest of them. It was this, the joining of God and Goddess - for the Elven God was portrayed often as the Avalon Goddess' consort - that the mystics from the Holy Isle said replenished the crops, made the trees grow, and gave back to the Mother what was the Mother's.
To Ailani, it seemed Calix (though she, being drunk on the flow of magic, did not recognize him) had a shadow of horns across his head. The crescent burned on her brow; and she was no longer Ailani the woman, but Ailani the Goddess-Mother.
In the hills the Midsummer fires burned high. Elves danced around them, and life was formed anew.
~*~
Although Seymour, having the magic of the Lifestream still in him, was far more sensitive to the changing of the magic tides than Yuna was, she still felt giddy the day after Midsummer. She slid out of the rumpled bedsheets, gently stroking Seymour's handsome face as she did so, and pulled on her robe. Somewhere, Ailani was no doubt welcoming the dawn with her pagan rituals.Yuna had hoped against hope that Lord Aubrey would calm her down somewhat, but since receiving word that she had fled Bevelle, those hopes had died.
Now, standing out on the balcony of her house, Yuna drew her robe around her and looked at the hills; her balcony faced west, and the first gold sunbeams just touched the tops of the coastal mountains. Not a cloud was seen in the sky; it would be a nice, warm day. Warm enough to go swimming, maybe, in the freshwater lake up the road. It would certainly be good to get out of the house. Yuna was only just getting over her initial heartbreak; now that Seymour was back with her, she would be content in all things. But her daughter - what of her daughter?
"Thinking of someone, my love?"
Yuna jumped, and turned around to see Seymour leaning comfortably against the doorframe. She nodded; he walked across the balcony to her, and wrapped his arms around her as the sun came up. After a time, he said, "Who?"
Yuna was about to tell him your daughter, but remembered that Seymour didn't know that he'd fathered Ailani. So she was silent a moment, then said, "My daughter."
Seymour spun her around. "Your daughter? With whom? It wasn't that.egotistical blitz player, was it?"
"Which one?" Yuna asked, her laugh strained, but sobered. "No, Ailani is not Tidus' child."
Seymour looked at her a little oddly. "Yuna.did you.tell me, did I."
Yuna stepped back from his arms, shaking and bobbing her head yes. "Yes, Seymour.you have a daughter, and her name is Ailani."
Night and day faded into one as time passed in the High Court of King Caleb. Ailani's bruises faded; but the ones on her spirit did not.
Calix considered that point, perched on the branch of a silverwood tree high above the city. A light breeze stirred his inky-black hair, getting it into his green eyes, as he pondered the puzzle that was Ailani de Braska Guado. Every time he had tried to get close to her, she had (sometimes violently) pushed him away. She spent hours on one of the open promenades, practicing moves with her sword, over and over and over. Her face, during those times that she let him see her in her fluid dance with the blades, was stony. The ice on her eyes had grown back over the fires, and for the moment they lay dormant.
Calix did not want to see what would happen were they ever to be stoked again.
Calix sighed in frustration, and laced his fingers behind his head, staring at the night sky. Below him, the sounds of the Midsummer Festival drifted up, twining around the branches as the elves celebrated the coming of summer, of long days and cooling dips in the streams that ran through Silverwood. Somewhere below him, Ailani walked the streets, welcomed in her garb of the priestesses of Avalon. Calix supposed he should go down and make himself present at the festivities; his father was already down there, undoubtedly dancing with the Spring Maiden - whoever that would be. Probably Gwendolyn, again, though that she-elf was far from a maiden.
Leaping down the branches, he found himself in the middle of one of the smaller, but no less used, dancing squares. No sooner had he landed than he was caught up by some woman, and caught up in the flow of the music. Flutes, stringed instruments, and drums provided a healthy beat, and the singing of various elves added to the excitement. It was not uncommon for some to go into a kind of frenzy; at Midsummer, the magic flowed freely from all sources, and those more sensitive to its ebb and flow tended to go a little mad. Now, the magical tides were at their fullest, and Calix gloried in them. After a few turns around the square, now quite giddy from adrenaline and the fullness of the magic, he made off for the much larger main square, and was again caught up - but this time, by Ailani.
She danced lightly, seeming to float above the ground; her waist was so small that Calix thought he could put his hands around it and the tips of his longest fingers would touch. The muscles under her robes tightened and relaxed as they spun around in the dance. But not her slim figure, nor her incredible agility, was what got Calix's attention.
She was smiling.
For the first time since she had flew from Bevelle, she was smiling with something other than malice or hate. Her eyes were lit with the fires, but they were fires of happiness, joy, and the deep burning that all priestess' eyes held at times when they were feeling their magic, when they were closest to their Goddess.
On this day, many elves took the Old Rites upon themselves, going back into the forests and burning fires and laying with whoever came to them. Normally, elves were not so free with their bodies. But, elves being the magical beings they are, the fullness of life came to all but the youngest of them. It was this, the joining of God and Goddess - for the Elven God was portrayed often as the Avalon Goddess' consort - that the mystics from the Holy Isle said replenished the crops, made the trees grow, and gave back to the Mother what was the Mother's.
To Ailani, it seemed Calix (though she, being drunk on the flow of magic, did not recognize him) had a shadow of horns across his head. The crescent burned on her brow; and she was no longer Ailani the woman, but Ailani the Goddess-Mother.
In the hills the Midsummer fires burned high. Elves danced around them, and life was formed anew.
~*~
Although Seymour, having the magic of the Lifestream still in him, was far more sensitive to the changing of the magic tides than Yuna was, she still felt giddy the day after Midsummer. She slid out of the rumpled bedsheets, gently stroking Seymour's handsome face as she did so, and pulled on her robe. Somewhere, Ailani was no doubt welcoming the dawn with her pagan rituals.Yuna had hoped against hope that Lord Aubrey would calm her down somewhat, but since receiving word that she had fled Bevelle, those hopes had died.
Now, standing out on the balcony of her house, Yuna drew her robe around her and looked at the hills; her balcony faced west, and the first gold sunbeams just touched the tops of the coastal mountains. Not a cloud was seen in the sky; it would be a nice, warm day. Warm enough to go swimming, maybe, in the freshwater lake up the road. It would certainly be good to get out of the house. Yuna was only just getting over her initial heartbreak; now that Seymour was back with her, she would be content in all things. But her daughter - what of her daughter?
"Thinking of someone, my love?"
Yuna jumped, and turned around to see Seymour leaning comfortably against the doorframe. She nodded; he walked across the balcony to her, and wrapped his arms around her as the sun came up. After a time, he said, "Who?"
Yuna was about to tell him your daughter, but remembered that Seymour didn't know that he'd fathered Ailani. So she was silent a moment, then said, "My daughter."
Seymour spun her around. "Your daughter? With whom? It wasn't that.egotistical blitz player, was it?"
"Which one?" Yuna asked, her laugh strained, but sobered. "No, Ailani is not Tidus' child."
Seymour looked at her a little oddly. "Yuna.did you.tell me, did I."
Yuna stepped back from his arms, shaking and bobbing her head yes. "Yes, Seymour.you have a daughter, and her name is Ailani."