Chapter 13 – Le Couronnement
"Coronation"
Nuada Airgeatlámh had ceased to exist. At least, in a very unconventional sense. The mended pieces of a life less ordinary bore little resemblance to the one the Fae Prince had lived only a short time before. In exile, neither Homer nor Camus would have been worthy to tell his story but now, with a future before him that could be called promising and a moment at hand which any would call victorious, he had every reason to look upon the last half of his life, not as an inevitable procession into ultimate annihilation, but the destined path towards renewal. For the collective Seelie and Unseelie Courts, no amount of forewarned doom could dampen the hope of reunification from the moment the Hunt had ended and the High King Apparent had made himself known. Now, instead of the anguished cries of Fae in the grips Undoing, there was only jubilation; the exultant, proud, and wholly unexpected end to a magnificent saga.
Having been bestowed with a new Name and having recovered fully from both his encounter with Death and the Hunt, Nuada both was and was not himself. Most notably, his temper had subsided somewhat, in favor of a more direct kind of hostile diplomacy. As such, Nuada had also been true to his word and had begun discussions and negotiations with the Others; first brokering several tentative agreements between the night-stalking Dead and the Mages of the uptown chantry. The Fae, if nothing else, were once again becoming a force to be reckoned with and not merely forgotten to the churning vagaries of an indifferent cosmos. He still trained his martial skills most early mornings but spent his evenings and nights largely in the company of his burgeoning Household or with Ailith, with whom the bonds of love and affection were ever growing. He was also well-known for occasionally building the odd mystic device or two, usually in response to a need somewhere, but his demeanor had become far more personable and there were times where one might have almost called him good-natured.
Having accepted the rite of ascension, Nuala, on the other hand, was poised to become Queen of Bathmoora. A role she seemed undoubtedly both ready for and completely shocked she was actually taking on. As he had been born several minutes before her, Nuada had always been the presumed heir to their father's throne but now that he had secured the birthright of the High Kingship and had been bonded into the Court of the Sun, she had much to plan for. And not just for herself.
In the three weeks that it had taken to arrange everything necessary for the Rite of High Coronation, the Fae had also already begun to see an unprecedented resurgence. There was, quite simply, magic in the world once more. Old pacts and Bargains now had a strength and weight to them they hadn't in an Age. The tricks and boons of Glamoury were demonstrating effects many of the younger Fae had only ever read about. And where the Fairest now gathered, there were signs of their presence everywhere; in new studios and bookshops, new subversive works of art or revolutionary writing, and in sidelong discussions of philosophy and meaning that were quickly gaining ground in both political and academic circles. Whatever new dawn lay just peeking over the horizon was unprecedented indeed.
Above it all, Ailith sat quietly in the grass, on the side of a large hill, contemplating everything that had come to pass since the first moment a lovely Baroque statue of a lady had come to life in the room down the hall from her. How late-night conversations in the library of B.P.R.D. with a tragic Princess had led to late-night conversations in the cell-block with an even more tragic Prince. How those tragedies had then transformed into something else, some new possibility for life and redemption she'd hardly known she'd needed. How she had come to learn of herself, in learning of him. In so many ways, she actually did miss those times in the dim light of his prison, when they had talked about all manner of things, literary or otherwise. They still talked of such things now, of course, but it had been awe-inspiring to watch the changes taking hold in him.
With a contented sigh, Ailith absently reached down to stroke her stomach again. The fact that Nuada had sired a child had come as a shock to the Fae world, but none more so than to Nuada himself. He had taken the news with a measure of astonishment and even apprehension at first but in the few days since then, he had come to regard both his mate and his coming child with a depth of affection that far exceeded his sense of duty. She wrinkled her nose in benign amusement. So that's what the Geas was intending when those first lilting sounds of a new and unformed Name had crept into her consciousness. Nuala, on the other hand, was positively beside herself with excitement. From what Ailith could tell, she was already planning any number of games, toys, and outfits she would get to use with a little one in the household. The birth of a new royal heir was a rare event and Nuala clearly had every intention of making the most of it. Despite how he might feel about some of her more outlandish suggestions though, Nuada had done the intelligent thing and had not argued with his sister about any of it.
Ailith had also not told him yet that she knew one especially important thing about what had transpired that night. In that she knew the Name of his son.
Áedan Glas. MacNuada Finn Fáil. MacBalor Gialchadh. The King of the Morrow.
She could hear it, even now, thrumming through her in conversation with the world. But before it was his time, the seasons of Nuada's rule as High King would come to pass and if she had read the omens right, they would be years of plenty if not necessarily of peace. In short, there was much yet to befall the world and the wars and conflicts of Mankind still held a deep foreboding for all of them. Great calamities would still need to be overcome before the Golden Age of the High Kingship could be foretold again. The great castle on the Hill of Tara would have to be rebuilt. The Lia Fáil, the Speaking Stone, would have to be restored to its foundations. She smiled regardless. Because one does not argue with a fairy tale. It is tautology in art form.
The stone on her pendant was, indeed, that which would speak the Name of the King and, once Nuada had been crowned, would be forever enshrined, where it belonged, on the Hill of Tara. It had been hidden with her, in a carousel necklace, by the very same forces that had preserved the alicorn and her own fragmented self in wait of the next great Hunt. One last chance for her, one last chance for Nuada, and one last chance for the Fae. The Geas was nothing if not clever. And then, upon the outer boundaries of the Hill, the foundations of the fortress that would become their home would also be built. Which, as it turned out, was precisely where she was currently sitting.
A few loud shouts alerted her to the arrival of the rest of the Elven courts near the top of the hill. The gathering had begun several hours ago with the arrival of the royal houses of Ireland, Scotland, and the UK. The royal houses of the Americas, Russia, and the Mediterranean had arrived the night before, along with the many bloodlines of the Aois-dàna from Scandinavia and the Arctic. Even delegates from the Himalayas and from the Courts of the East were in attendance, along with their servires and progeny of all kinds. The summit of Tara was already festooned with banners and floating thistledown lights, rugs and carpets from every conceivable place in the world, food and as much drink as they could manage, and all manner of anxious Fae awaiting sundown, when the Others were also set to arrive.
With a huff, Ailith got to her feet and began the slow trudge back up to the top. Back to the Sael, the Gathering on the Hill. Despite her general adoration of the Fae peoples, she had to admit she was really looking forward to meeting the Others. Through Nuada's talks, she had finally met the young vampire by the name of Gabriel and his companion and lover, the mage called Nicholas Cooper. Cooper, she had found to be pleasant enough; grounded and thoughtful in the way that life-long scholars often were. Gabriel, on the other hand, had fascinated her endlessly. He was more mercurial than his partner, but possessed of a keen mind, a dry wit, and a long view and she had enjoyed teasing him about his conscription into the Hunt. The former traits he attributed however, at her asking, to his relationship with another of his own kind; an elder and also his own sire, who went only by the name of Auralian. She had been promised that she might meet this elder tonight, at Nuada's Coronation.
She was grateful to find him still nearby, and as she crested the hill and rejoined the members of the King's Household in the tents set up near the ruins, Nuada came through the crowd to meet her. He looked dashingly spectacular (thanks, she believed, to Nuala's influence). He wore a simple blue kaftan coat with fine embroidery around the hems and sleeves and a sash in a darker blue to match it. The emblem of the Triskele, the three-wheeled spirals emblazoned in silver, was the only real ornamentation he otherwise wore with it, likely due to the fact that Nuada had never been especially partial to jewelry or precious gems. The Crown would come later, since the most recognizable mark of the High Kingship was something that was grown out of the first brambles and leaves of Spring and not made by hand. The tunic beneath was black and it set against his darker features in amazing ways that already had her lamenting that she would not again be able to be with him alone until at least a day or two from this one. The bustle of the Court and Household around them continued unabated.
"There you are." He commented. "I was beginning to worry."
Ailith smiled brightly and smoothed her hands down over her own blue gown and sash. "Nothing to worry about." She replied. "I was just getting some fresh air."
"Is everything alright?" He eyed her suspiciously. Since revealing to him that they had conceived, Nuada had become intuitively protective and rarely let her out of his sight for very long; and especially not in large assemblies.
"Everything is fine." She soothed, giving him a mirthful look. "Are you ready for this?"
"Yes." He nodded. "Though I don't suppose I ought to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Of all the ways I imagined that this might end, it wasn't at all like this. When Nuala killed the both us, as far as I could see, it was the final confirmation that our doom was inevitable. That Winter was upon us, that our blood was spent, and that all the world was truly destined to fade and descend into despair."
"Hm." She acknowledged. "I can understand that. But now?"
"Now?" He smiled. "Now, I'm not entirely sure what happens. But, whatever it is, it bodes well. We may yet see another Summer and that isn't something I believed was possible."
"So, does this mean the Warrior-Prince is ready for peace?"
"The Warrior-Prince is no longer the Warrior-Prince, I'm afraid. And a King should always be ready to offer peace."
She laughed at his playful tone and stepped into him easily as he wrapped his arms around her again. The kiss that followed was gentle and tender.
"You're not the King, yet." She murmured into his neck. "The Name has not been spoken."
"Does my lady require anything else of me before she speaks it?"
Ailith leaned back and pondered for a moment. "I do." She announced, earning a curious look from Nuada in response.
"Once the castle of Tír fo Thuinn is rebuilt, I want to restore the forest, the Ildathach, that once surrounded it. When the Hill of Tara is opened, there will be magics enough to see it through. I want him born there."
Nuada tilted his head thoughtfully. "Him?"
"Yes." She sniffed happily. "Him."
With a slow, even, nod, Nuada agreed. "Then it shall be so. Anything else?"
"No." Ailith replied. "But if WillLily gets any more anxious over there, he might explode. And that's never a good thing for a bogart. I think it's time we faced the Stone."
"Yes, it is time." He concluded. "It is, at last, our time."
FIN
(Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing this work. I was not expecting to essentially write a novel in the span of only a few short months, but such is the testament to inspiration, motivation, and engaged readers. Obviously, that's it for this story. That's not to say, though, I that I won't ever revisit this world or that I won't write more for Nuada and Ailith in the future. But for now, please enjoy À Mon Seul Désir in its entirety, completed and whole as stories go. Cheers, everyone! – Nas)