Author's Note: Most of this chapter came as a complete surprise to me. There was really only one thing I needed this chapter for; the rest of it happened entirely on its own. But the stuff the characters added in is all great; they tied up a lot of their plot threads, but still gave me enough to continue playing with them in Book Three. Also, any time I get to watch Dafydd be both an idiot and absolutely adorable, it puts me in a really good mood. Enjoy!
Images: Remove all spaces.
Regina's gazebo [I'm sorry for the Twilight overtones; imagine vines of morning glories instead of lights and sparkling vampires]: http:/ twilightguide. com/ tg/ wp-content/ themes/ Aspire/ graphics/ cat/ twilight- movie- photos/ twilight- gazebo. jpg
Dafydd's clan marker: http:/ www. officialpsds. com/ images/ thumbs/ Button- for- clothes- psd 46196. png
The new Keeper looks like this. http: /lunarmom. files. wordpress. com/ 2010/ 09/ dscn1716. jpg
Keeper Notes: The name Zhithene is an amalgamation of Zhi and Athena, both characters from mythology [Chinese and Greek respectively, to be precise]. Both names mean 'wisdom.' The name is pronounced zi-THEE-nee.
Disclaimer: The name for Regina's new castle and capital, Isla Affalin, comes from the name Inis Avalon. Yes, that Avalon. I'm a bit of a nut for Arthurian mythology, and the idea of a utopian summerland kingdom of peace was too perfect not to use. That's also the reason why Regina's standard is of an apple tree; Inis Avalon is Welsh for "isle of apples."
"I'm amazed, Leferidae," Regina stated, leaning on the arm of her leonine adviser as they walked through the still-being-planted royal gardens. "I didn't think the restorations could possibly be completed so quickly. How much longer before everything's ready?"
"Assuming Time holds himself at least somewhat steady, I think everything will be ready within a few more months' time," Leferidae answered. "And once it's all completed…"
"Yes. The Queenmaking," Regina nodded, her eyes unfocusing.
She attempted to look pleased and enthusiastic, but in truth she was simply overwhelmed. The former castle of Salazen Grum had been completely dismantled, and over the course of six months it had been rebuilt to better suit its next Queen. The red, white and black color scheme favored by the former Queen of Hearts had been replaced by gold and purple. The narrow, labyrinthine passageways and carnival house-like architecture were replaced by graceful curves and expansive chambers. Nothing was square, but rather softly rounded. Even the name of the castle and capital had been changed, from the dark memories of Salazen Grum to the shining, hopeful promise of Isla Affalin.
With every passing day, more and more work was completed on the castle. And as completion loomed nearer, so too did the occasion of Regina's Queenmaking. Not for the first time, Regina wondered if she was ready. She had been preparing for this eventuality since her return to Underland, yes. But it had only been half a year. Lily had been studying her entire life for her role as the future Queen of Marmoreal, and she still wasn't ready. Yet Regina was supposed to be prepared in only a few weeks' time, a month or two more at the most?
Granted, she wasn't about to embark on Queenship entirely on her own. On the advice of Mirana and Alice, Regina had formed a Council to advise her for at least the first year or two of her reign. Rhonwen had already accepted the position, stating that the Hightopps could do without one Elder for a while. Leferidae had also immediately offered himself to Regina's service, for which she was incredibly grateful. The third position had been taken by Baron Vulpez, formerly of the last Queen's Court. Regina had been wary of offering the position to one of Iracebeth's toadies, but Leferidae had convinced her that to do so would win her the support of her Court, most of whom had served the deposed Queen. They had power and influence in Crims, and Regina would need their support if she wished to implement any change at all in her queendom.
And goodness knew, there would need to be plenty of change. Crims had barely functioned for untold years; as Queen, Regina would be expected to provide her subjects with a steady economy, a supply of goods for barter and trade, and internal safety from robbers and brigands. Rebuilding the kingdom to a position of strength would take years, yet she would be expected to have made palpable strides within months. She would need all the help she could muster to repair the damage that Iracebeth and Time had done to Crims.
Leferidae glanced down at Regina, and placed a paw over her hand. "I'm here with you, your Highness," he reminded her. "We will rebuild Crims, I promise you."
She looked up at him with a watery smile, silently nodding her thanks. From his place just behind them, Dafydd glanced between them, taking in the exhaustion lurking in the shadows of Regina's eyes and the protective warmth in Leferidae's, before clearing his throat.
"I think we've been touring long enough," he said brusquely, stepping forward and falling into step with Regina. "You said you had tea waiting somewhere in the gardens?"
"Yes, of course," Leferidae nodded. "I apologize, Highness. I realize you must still be fatigued from your recent… experiences, shall we say?"
"Thank you, Leferidae, but I've been much better," Regina smiled. "Still, I'll never turn down a cuppa."
"Well then, shall we?" he asked, heading down a winding path.
Dafydd didn't reply as he followed them down the path, but he kept a close eye on Regina as they walked. It had been two weeks since their return from the Outlands, and while Regina had been doing better, she was clearly not alright. The bruises had faded away, and even the wound on her side had mostly healed now. All that was left were the emotional scars, and Dafydd wasn't sure if Regina would ever fully heal from those.
She still hadn't told him what had happened to her out there. He had his guesses; Taran hadn't been among the Nazari when they crossed over into Underland, and he had been the one assigned to kill Regina out at the Gorges. He had noticed that when Regina thought she was unobserved, she would stare at her hands, sometimes rubbing them as if trying to clean them. But she hadn't told him a single detail of her time in the Outlands; she carried that burden silently and attempted to fool him into thinking she was alright. Sometimes he wondered if he should be offended, that she thought she could fool him so easily.
He wished that she would tell him; it hurt him to know that he had lost her trust. He was her Champion, or at least he was very soon going to be, officially; it was his job to protect her, but how could he do that if she didn't tell him what it was she suffered? He hated seeing her slowly wilt and fade away beneath the grief she kept so closely guarded. There were shadows in her eyes now, a permanent sadness in her smile. She didn't bounce when she walked, and she never hummed anymore. He missed her humming; he missed the innocence that had once shined from her eyes. He knew the innocence would never, could never return, but he hoped that someday she would heal from the trauma she had undergone. He very much wished that she would allow him to help her, that someday they wouldn't tread so warily around each other.
Of course, she didn't seem to be missing him very much. Regina had spent an increasing amount of time with Leferidae in the past two weeks. The Lion had easily charmed her, had won her trust seemingly without trying. He put her at ease; sometimes he even made her smile. And he knew it was petty of him, but Dafydd begrudged Leferidae every smile he won. He was her Champion, not the Lion; it was his job to make her smile. He was supposed to be fixing her, making things right between them; it wasn't fair that Leferidae was stealing that from him.
But contrariwise, Leferidae was easing Regina's grief, even if only for a while. He was helping her. Dafydd couldn't, wouldn't begrudge her that relief. Her peace was the important thing; who gave it to her didn't matter, so long as she wasn't crushed beneath her guilt. He had no right to dictate where Regina found her peace, and so he remained silent behind her, trying to school his face into composure.
He glanced ahead to her, but she gave no signs that she was paying the least bit of attention to him as they entered her private garden. For once, he was glad of it; it gave him the time he needed to compose himself. Regina's sanctuary was ringed on all sides by the apple trees she'd chosen as her emblem, and edged in Flowers- delicate, ladylike Irises, lusty Lilies, shy, retiring Pansies and gossiping Daisies. A three-tiered fountain merrily burbled away in one corner; a swing had been tied to the overhanging branch of a particularly large oak tree. Regina had planned this garden herself, and it showed; the place screamed her personality in every last detail.
Beneath a large white iron gazebo covered in bright blue morning glories, a tea table was set out. As befit the daughter of the Mad Hatter, none of the china matched; at least a dozen different sets had been shuffled and placed onto the table. Already seated was the Doctor, his glasses perched on his nose as he mixed up another blend of Teas, humming absently to himself. Dafydd heard Regina's slight sigh, and glanced over at her just in time to intercept her suffering gaze. One corner of his mouth curled up in a sympathetic smile, but he couldn't save her. The Doctor had been Regina's shadow for the past two weeks, carefully monitoring her emotional state and liberally dosing her with his Emotion Teas when he thought it warranted. Dafydd knew that Regina hated being coddled, but he couldn't object to the Doctor keeping an eye on her. And while he wasn't entirely certain that it was healthy for Regina's emotions to be so regulated that she hadn't even, to his knowledge, cried about her experiences, the Doctor was still keeping Regina calm and able to focus, and that was something.
"Hullo there!" the Doctor said cheerfully as the party approached.
"Good afternoon, Doctor," Regina replied, a faint smile lifting her lips. "Where's Noble?"
"Off having a bit of a snit," the Doctor replied, an abashed look on his face. "I might've, maybe, insulted her new haircut. Y'know. A bit."
"Oh, Doctor," Regina said, giggling. "How could you? And you know how proud she is of her new fringe!"
"Well, it's her fault," the Doctor protested, folding his arms. "She insulted my rocks!"
"She always insults your rocks, Doctor," Regina pointed out. "That's no excuse to malign the lady's hair."
The Doctor scoffed. "Noble is not a lady. No lady should be able to kick like that."
Regina giggled again as Leferidae ushered her into her seat- a delicate lady's armchair, with dark, heavily carved wood and sky blue fabric to match her morning glories- before taking a seat himself. At an expectant, raised eyebrow from Regina, Dafydd sat down at the table instead of standing in the background. Regina knew Dafydd objected to sitting down when he was working- but honestly, it was time for a private Tea Party. So he wasn't really working, and he was going to sit down and drink his tea like a civilized Hightopp. As he unbuckled his claymore and took his seat beside her, Regina pulled her rolling cart of tea supplies closer, eyes narrowing slightly in concentration as she sorted through herbs and loose-leaf teas.
"No drinking," the Doctor reminded her, nodding at the tea she was preparing.
"I know," Regina sighed wistfully. "How much longer will you keep me on these Teas, Doctor?"
"Not much longer now, I think," he said thoughtfully, peering into her face.
"That's a relief," Regina nodded. "I'd like to actually be able to enjoy my tea sets."
"And it's a lovely set, your Highness," Leferidae commented as Regina set her tea to steep.
"Thank you. One of a million presents from my da," she smiled. "He spoils me horribly."
"I think he spoils you rather wonderfully, personally," Leferidae said with a smile.
Regina laughed prettily, smiling as the Lion took her hand in his paw to press a courtly kiss to it, an action which Dafydd observed with a faint frown. Not that he objected to Regina being courted; not at all. She was young, beautiful, and about to become a Queen. Of course she would eventually be obligated to marry and produce an heir. He knew that and accepted it. It was just… too early in the afternoon for him to have to sit through flirtation, that's all. And what business did Leferidae have in paying her such compliments anyways, Dafydd asked himself grumpily. The Red Lions were the guardians of the throne of Crims, but never became the rulers; he couldn't marry Regina even if he wanted to. So why was he showering her with so much flattery, and showing her such deference?
"What do you think, Doctor?" Regina asked, trying to hold back her displeased face as she watched the Doctor mix her next dose of medicine into a goblet of water. "How has my athair spoiled me?"
"Spoiling implies that something good has gone rotten," the Doctor answered. "You look pretty well preserved to me, so I don't think he's spoiled you at all. Not for want of trying though, I'll admit that," he grinned, handing her the goblet.
"With all these medicines you're giving me, I daresay I'll be perfectly preserved forever. Like a good jam," Regina said thoughtfully, toasting the Doctor before taking her dose.
"Oh heavens no, you're far too plucky to make a jam," the Doctor said, making a face. "You'd make a right proper cup of tea, but never a jam."
Dafydd leaned back in his chair, trying to keep from rolling his eyes. The Doctor too? Was everyone determined to pay court to Regina today? And if so, why couldn't they wait to do it until he wasn't in her presence, unable to escape it? Of course, there was the little fact that he was the Champion-To-Be and he could never leave her presence… But really, that should be taken into consideration when anyone attempted their flirtations, he grouched to himself.
He was jerked from his thoughts as Regina laid a hand on his forearm. He blinked, looking over at her and accepting the teacup she held out to him.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly, though there was little chance of her being overheard; the Doctor and Leferidae were lost in their discussion of what kind of preserves Regina might be. "You look as frumious as a Bandersnatch."
"I'm fine," he immediately said, trying to find a smile for her. "Just… thinking too much."
"Well, as your Queen- or, at least, your Queen-To-Be- I command you to stop," she said, a small smile on her face that didn't quite stretch up to her eyes. "We both need to stop thinking, I think. At least for a while."
Dafydd nodded, a not-quite-smile of his own answering hers. "What shall we do instead?" he asked, taking a long sip of his tea.
"Run," she replied softly, her eyes unfocusing. "We'll run far, far away, until we've left ourselves and our troubles far behind."
"Who will we be, when we've left ourselves behind?" he asked, tilting his head.
"I don't know," she replied thoughtfully. "Isn't that the fun of it? Becoming someone new? I used to pretend that I could, you know," she said suddenly. "Before I knew who I was, I would try other names on for size. As if I could become someone else, just by wearing a new name."
"Did it ever work?" Dafydd asked curiously.
"Sometimes," Regina smiled reminiscently. "I could become the Queen of Sheba for a while, sometimes."
"I would rather you become the Queen of Crims," Leferidae rumbled, smiling.
Regina started, turning her attention to her leonine adviser, and Dafydd wasn't quite able to conceal his scowl. It was terribly rude to listen in on a private conversation, even if said private conversation was carried out in public. Why did Leferidae have to destroy the fragile little dream world they'd been building? Why was he so disinclined to let them escape for a while?
"I think I could manage to be both at once," Regina replied, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Of course, I do seem to be lacking a King Solomon, and I could hardly be Sheba without a Solomon. I suppose I'll have to content myself with only being the Queen of Crims, then."
"And why would you want to be the Queen of Sheba, anyways?" the Doctor asked, steepling his fingers. "Sheba sounds like sheep, and you wouldn't want to be the Queen of sheep. Nasty-tempered things, they are, and I've never had a decent conversation with any of them."
"Why in the worlds were you trying to have a conversation with sheep?" Regina giggled.
"Well, it's quite rude to just shave them and run!" the Doctor protested.
Dafydd tuned out of the conversation; frankly, contemplating what possible use the Doctor might have for sheep was too disturbing. He slouched in his chair slightly, leaning his head against the high back of his armchair as he drank his tea and observed his Queen-To-Be. The Teas were taking effect, he could see; her curls were regaining a bit of their spring, and some of the tension had left the set of her shoulders. She was beginning to feel the Calm, and it appeared that the Doctor had cut the dose with a drop or two of Happiness, because her smile was growing in both size and strength. But her eyes, he knew, wouldn't be changing colors to reflect the false emotions. If anything, they would be ever so slightly glazed over, and certainly flat. Just because she was under the influence of Happiness didn't mean that she truly felt it. He longed for the day when he would see her eyes glowing with true happiness again, but for now, this was enough.
Watching the way she was improving under the Teas, Dafydd was tempted to ask the Doctor for a blend of his own. Fates knew he would give anything for some Peace. He knew it wasn't real; eventually the Tea would wear off, and he'd be left to wrestle with his own ugly emotions again. But the Doctor had given Regina the Teas in order to give her Time; Time enough to heal her bodily injuries, to give her the strength to fix the wounds to her soul. Dafydd wished he could have the same. Just a little Time; time enough to rest, just for a little while. He felt so very tired… But then, why did he deserve more Time, when he had stolen so much Time from his brother?
A fluttering in his peripheral vision distracted him from his dark thoughts. Standing silently, he slipped away from the table, leaving Regina, Leferidae and the Doctor to their conversation as he walked to the edge of the garden, and the Rabbit who waited there, looking down at his surroundings with a superior air.
"This is the Princess' private garden," Dafydd said, a hand on his sword. "You don't have leave to be here."
"I bear an urgent message from the High Queen, Champion-To-Be," the Rabbit said disdainfully. "Would you detain me?"
"If you don't polish your manners before you speak to the Princess? I'd do much worse than detain you," Dafydd replied.
The Rabbit drew himself to his full height, his long ears twitching agitatedly. "I come on urgent business, Outlander. More important than you have leave to know of. You cannot prevent me from delivering my message."
In a flash, Dafydd's sword was out and placed against the Rabbit's neck. He smiled darkly at the fear plainly written in the Animal's eyes. Before he could take off the Rabbit's head, however, Dafydd's nose was assaulted by the scents of honeysuckle and sandalwood, and he felt himself relaxing against his will. Astonishing, that she could hold such sway over him without even touching him.
"Dafydd? What's the matter?" Regina asked, knowing enough of his protective streak to remain behind him.
"This jackalope claims to bear a message from the White Queen," Dafydd replied, glaring at the Animal. "But his manners don't live up to the claim."
"Deliver your message, Sir Page, and quickly," Regina replied, laying a staying hand on Dafydd's arm as she drew even with him.
The Rabbit drew himself up with affronted dignity, glaring at Dafydd before turning to Regina. "The White Queen summons you to Marmoreal."
"For what purpose?" Regina asked. "I'm not due at Marmoreal for another three days-"
"It is for a purpose I may not speak of freely," the Rabbit replied, with pointed glances at Dafydd, and the tea table behind them.
"We will withdraw," the Lion stated, bowing low to Regina before exiting the garden.
"Regina, if you're gonna be riding to Marmoreal, I want you to take some extra medicine with you," the Doctor said, standing. "Just in case you need it. I'll mix it up and send it along to your rooms."
Once the Doctor had wandered off, Regina and Dafydd exchanged glances before looking back at the White Queen's supercilious messenger.
"Now speak," Dafydd ordered.
"You do not have leave to hear of this matter, Outlander," the Rabbit said stiffly.
Regina didn't frown, exactly, but a stony look descended on her face. "Then you may leave with your message undelivered, Sir Page," she stated. "Dafydd is my Champion, and privy to all my meetings. We have no secrets between us."
Dafydd drew a breath, trying to keep his face impassive. Well, that wasn't entirely true; he had at least one secret that Regina didn't, could never, know. And Regina was keeping secrets of her own. But he wasn't about to mention that.
The Rabbit twitched, but spoke. "Very well then. The White Queen bids me tell you that the new Keeper of the Oraculum has arrived, and the Keeper desires to meet with you."
Regina blinked in utter confusion. "New Keeper? But what of Absolem…?"
"The White Queen promises to explain to you, but you must make for Marmoreal with all due haste," the Rabbit said.
Regina and Dafydd exchanged glances again, and in silent agreement they withdrew from the Rabbit, walking to the Tea Table where they could converse without being overheard.
"Why wouldn't the High Queen contact you with a Looking Glass?" Dafydd asked immediately. "Why bother sending a messenger, let alone one that rude?"
Regina shook her head. "I have no idea. Perhaps she's distracted. Do you think it's safe?"
Dafydd shrugged. "There's very little I can't protect you from," he said; not a boast, just a fact. "If you feel up to riding to Marmoreal, then we'll go."
Regina thought for a moment, catching her lip between her teeth, but eventually curiosity won out. All this business about a new Keeper… surely something odd had happened, while Regina and Dafydd had been away. And if they were being summoned… well, Regina wasn't going to ignore a summons, from either the High Queen or from the Keeper of the Oraculum.
"We will set out for Marmoreal at once, Sir Page," she announced. "Will you return with us?"
"Not I," the Rabbit shook his head. "I have other errands to run."
"Very well," Regina nodded. "Then Fairfarren."
Without sparing a further glance for the Rabbit, Regina swept out of her garden, Dafydd close on her heels. When they reached the palace doors, he caught her elbow.
"I'll go get the Deuces," he said. "We'll be ready to leave by the time you change."
Regina nodded her understanding, and then headed into the castle, navigating to what would someday soon be her palatial suite of chambers. Her riding clothes were laid on the as-yet-unmade bed, right where she'd left them. For a moment, she simply stood in the doorway, looking into the room- more specifically, at the narrow, plain bed positioned perpendicular to her own.
Dafydd hadn't slept in her room with her since their return from the Outlands. He had actually made use of his own quarters, which both of them had forgotten he even had, since for the past six-month he'd slept at the foot of her bed. She wondered if his absence was the reason she hadn't slept well in the past two weeks. Without the comfort of his soft breathing, his slumbering form in the dark, she seemed to be unable to relax; her sleep was shallow and frequently interrupted with nightmares. Funny, how her own rooms should seem so alien and unsafe and far, far too large for just her.
But should she ask him to return to her room? She wasn't entirely sure she was ready for that, not yet. Being around him was still uncomfortable and awkward. She hated that she couldn't relax around him, but how could she relax? She didn't know how much, if anything, he remembered of their encounter in Iplam; and not knowing whether he was secretly harboring hatred- or love- made her incredibly unsure of herself. How could they go back to how they'd been before?
Sighing, she shook her head; she didn't have time for these thoughts. Struggling a bit without Clover and Azalea to help her, she undressed, changing back into her riding breeches and tunic, pulling her soft, comfortable boots on. Tying her hair up off her neck with quick, efficient movements, she folded her gown and under things, packing them back into the pack she'd brought with her that morning. Glancing around to be sure she had everything, she left her suite and headed outside.
Dafydd and the Deuces were waiting for her, mounted and ready to go. Dafydd dismounted as she approached, taking her pack from her and securing it to his saddle as she climbed onto Sora's back.
"We'll have to hurry if we want to make it before nightfall," he commented.
She felt a small grin tug at her lips. "I'll race you to Marmoreal's gate."
Without waiting for his response, she kicked Sora into a sprint. An answering smirk on his face, Dafydd swung into his saddle and took off after her, the rest of the Deuces cheering and taking off after their Princess and Captain. Within moments, Dafydd had outpaced Regina, and she yelled in protest as her hair ripped out of its pins and flew behind her like a banner as she urged Sora onwards.
It was probably irresponsible of him to race her like this, he reflected. It was too easy to throw a dagger Regina's way, or Fates forbid, lame Sora and kidnap her once the Panther had outpaced the Deuces' Horses. But… Dafydd tossed a glance over his shoulder. Even from up here, he could see the smile on Regina's face. She was relaxed, almost happy. And that was why he was throwing caution to the wind; there were times when keeping her happy was more important than keeping her safe.
They raced all the way to Marmoreal, the Deuces eventually fanning out to guard ahead and behind while Dafydd and Regina egged each other on. Sometimes, he would manage to pull ahead of her, but she would always gain on him again. As fine a Stallion as Arturias was, Sora was built for distance running. Regina ended up sprinting through the gates four lengths ahead of him, and he had to laugh when she cheered, throwing her arms up in the air as Sora skidded to a stop.
Dafydd leapt off Arturias and tossed the reins to a waiting groom, then strode over to Sora and helped Regina off the Panther- even though honestly, his help was superfluous because Sora stood much lower to the ground than a Horse did. Regina sighed in contentment, surprising Dafydd by laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Thank you," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I needed that."
To his great annoyance, he found himself unable to speak; his throat seemed to have swelled itself shut. He nodded dumbly, easing his arms around Regina's shoulders and marveling to himself; oh, this felt good.
He had been… well, not avoiding her company, he certainly couldn't do that. But he had been avoiding physical contact with her; avoiding putting himself in her line of sight, as a matter of fact. It had made perfect sense to him when he first decided on his plan; Regina was still wary and quiet around him, so he would keep to himself and allow her to regain her trust and ease in her own time. But with this terrible secret sitting like a rock in his heart, these emotions that he couldn't purge and wasn't sure he wanted to… his self-imposed exile from her was painful. So he treasured this breathless moment; these fleeting touches, the occasional shared glances, they were all he had to convince himself that someday, everything would be alright between them again.
"Your Highness!"
Regina and Dafydd broke apart at the harsh interruption, both whipping around to the stairs, from whence the voice had come. Mctwisp was standing there, his nose twitching agitatedly as he observed the pair of them.
"Her Majesty is waiting for you both in her study," Mctwisp said, giving them a disapproving look before hopping off.
Regina sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. Dafydd, noticing this, frowned.
"Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm sure the Queen would understand if you needed time to yourself-"
"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her neck. "There's time for sleep later. Let's just get this over with first."
Dafydd nodded his consent, and glanced behind him, motioning for the Deuces to dismount and relax before heading inside after Regina. They kept silent as they walked through the halls to the Queen's private study. Regina hesitated before the doors, knocking rather than simply barging in.
The door was answered by a tired-looking Lily. The cousins took one look at each other before stepping forward and embracing. Regina bit her lip worriedly as she hugged her cousin; Lily looked dampened and subdued, hardly the same person as the Lily she'd known before the Outlands.
"What's going on, Lily?" she asked softly, glancing into the room beyond.
"Mother will explain," Lily explained, stepping back and allowing Regina and Dafydd to enter.
Mirana and Kalen, Alice and Tarrant, and Queen Lamia and King Shepherd of Snud were seated around a tea table; clearly their party had been going on for a while now. Lily sank gracefully into the seat she'd vacated, and Regina and Dafydd walked around the table to the two other free chairs.
"Hello, my Sugar Cube," Tarrant greeted his daughter with a happy smile. "Dafydd, my boy, don't try to slink off into the shadows, sit and have some tea."
Dafydd sat beside Regina with a chastened smile, resting his claymore against the table. As Tarrant examined his daughter and began mixing a tea for her, Regina turned her attention to the White Queen.
"Aunt Mirana, what's going on?" she asked, accepting a scone and some clotted cream from Alice. "What's this we were told about a new Keeper?"
"I'd like to know the same thing, Mirana," Lamia said curiously, her pleasantly plump face rapt with attention.
Mirana nodded, folding her hands on the table. "First of all, I would like to apologize to you all. It was wrong of me not to explain to you sooner, but… Well, with most of you… busy in the Outlands, shall we say… I really didn't want to have to explain more than once." Clearing her throat, Mirana helped herself to another cup of tea. "The same Day Regina was kidnapped, Absolem came to me and informed me that it was his time to Fade."
Her statement was met with a stunned silence. Absolem gone? It seemed inconceivable; how could Underland possibly go on without the crusty Butterfly who had seemed as old as the land Herself?
"Absolem bound me to secrecy," Mirana continued. "I believe he felt that if it were widely known that he were gone, and that we would be without guidance until the birth of the next Keeper, that we would all fall into a panic." She paused, smiling ruefully to herself. "I cannot say he was entirely wrong. When you were gone," she said, nodding to the Blue Royals, "I was frantic with worry. There was no way to keep an eye on your progress; no Absolem to reassure us, no Oraculum to tell us your fates. Had anything happened to you, I would have had no word, no way of knowing. It was… excruciating," she said, her eyes lowering.
Regina glanced at Lily, who shifted uneasily in her seat and lowered her own eyes. Regina hadn't seen anything of her cousin in the past two weeks; Nerissa had told Regina that Lily was being punished for her disobedience in running away to Regina's rescue by having to stand guard over something in Mirana's office. Could that have something to do with the new Keeper, Regina wondered?
"When Absolem Faded, an Egg remained," Mirana picked up her tale. "I, and Lily when she returned home, have kept it safe. It hatched this morning, and the new Keeper has requested that we all gather together so she can… get a look at us, as she said."
Everyone around the tea table jumped as there was a sudden cloud of thick purple smoke and a soft poof noise. When the smoke cleared, the Royals got their first look at Underland's new Keeper of the Oraculum.
She was a tiny, wizened old woman; from head to toe she stood no larger than Regina's index finger. Her hair was completely white, and hung loosely around her shoulders and down her back. She wore black breeches, a white poet's shirt, a red vest, and a matching red skirt partially tucked up into the waistband of her breeches; her feet were encased in tiny black ghillie shoes. The only sign that this tiny woman had ever been Absolem was the tattoo on the right side of her face; blue swirls and curlicues that formed the markings of a butterfly's wing across her forehead and down her cheek.
"Everyone, this is Zhithene," Mirana introduced the Keeper.
Zhithene turned in a circle, regarding everyone seated at the table. She had a crafty, calculating look on her face, and Regina got the distinct impression that she was being judged. The thought made her want to squirm, but she held herself still, forcing herself to return the tiny old woman's gaze.
"Ah," Zhithene said in satisfaction, turning her head back and forth from Lily and Regina. "The Queens-That-Shall-Be. Let me get a look at you. The Crown-Keeper and the Once and Future Queen. Yes, yes, you shall do, I think."
Lily and Regina's gazes met over Zhithene's head, each wearing an identical expression of confusion. What on earth could those titles mean? Zhithene, however, didn't appear inclined to illuminate them; she was still inspecting the people gathered around the table.
"The White Queen and the Lordly King, very good," Zhithene declared, before turning to take in the Russet Royals of Snud. "The Earthbound Queen and her Consort. Don't worry, Lamia, Snud isn't Fated to fall to ruin just yet. You and Alice still have much work to do together." Nodding, Zhithene turned her attention to the Blue Royals. "The Hatter King and the Dreaming Queen… no Sky Prince as yet, I see. Well, there's time yet. Not much time, mind, but time enough, I suppose."
Alice and Tarrant exchanged surprised glances, and Regina wasn't ashamed to admit that she was relieved to see her parents as confused by this new Keeper as she was. Zhithene's attention returned to Regina, and the tiny wizened woman frowned, one hand on her hip.
"No Prince of the Promise? Well, I suppose that makes sense, but he's so very important! You must promise me he won't be late," she scowled at Regina. "His grandmam is always late, I won't hear of that trait being passed down."
Flustered, Regina glanced around the table, before returning her gaze to Zhithene. "Um… I…"
"Oh, never mind, it's not your decision when he comes anyways," Zhithene shrugged, before her frown deepened. "But you're not all here. Where is the Littlest Queen? Why does the Lionheart King not proclaim his intentions and leave his pili pala to play the game of thrones alone? What detains and distracts the Peacekeeping King? And where hides the Puppetmaster?"
She looked around at all of them, taking in their utterly confused faces with growing impatience.
"Oh for goodness' sake," she muttered. "Mirana, a hookah, if you please."
"Of course," Mirana murmured.
The White Queen gracefully stood and flitted to her desk, withdrawing a miniature hookah from a desk drawer. As she brought it back to the table, Regina could see that the hookah had once belonged to Absolem. Mirana seated herself again and prepared the hookah for the Keeper with quick, sure movements.
Zhithene eagerly snatched up the wand, drawing a deep breath of smoke into her veins. "Ah," she sighed as she exhaled. "That's better."
She smoked on, oblivious to the amused glances exchanged around the table. Apparently, more of Absolem lived on in this new Keeper than just the shadow of a butterfly tattoo… After several more puffs, Zhithene drew an impossibly deep drag of smoke, blowing it out in concentric smoke rings. Everyone around the tea table stared avidly as the smoke began to cluster in the shape of a cocoon. Humming to herself, Zhithene blew out one final smoke ring, which gently swept all the smoke away to reveal a small, brown, drawstring bag. Bending, Zhithene retrieved the bag and opened it, sliding a deck of cards into her hands.
"Tarot cards!" Regina exclaimed, leaning closer to get a better look at them.
"The new Oraculum," Zhithene nodded. "More compact than the last, don't you think? Don't know what Absolem was on about, carting that huge cumbersome scroll about. Cards are much more portable."
Seating herself pretzel-style on the table, Zhithene began to arrange the cards in an intricate pattern. Five in the shape of a pentacle, and around each point of the star she clustered other cards; here two, there three, even four in one case. Inside the pentagram she arranged three other cards, hemming and hawing in concentration all the while.
"My my, this is quite the interesting spread," Zhithene said, sitting back when she'd arranged the cards to her satisfaction. "So much work to be done!"
"I don't understand," Regina frowned, looking down at the cards.
"Do you not, little Queenling?" Zhithene asked, looking highly amused. "It's quite simple. Why, nearly all the pieces of the chess set are ready to make their moves!" She looked up at them all, a faint smirk on her face. "Shall I tell you what the Oraculum predicts, then?" she asked.
She drew a deep lungful of smoke, exhaling it slowly as she spoke, her voice sounding deeper, echoing with the infinite possibilities of the future.
"For Crims, I see the Queen of Cups, the Eight of Wands, the Reversed Six of Cups, and the Reversed Wheel of Fortune. Leaving aside all the small details, for then we'd be here all night, I can tell you that Crims is due for a new beginning and a great prosperity. However, the coming of the little Prince may throw everything into a tizzy- particularly for the Lionheart."
Dafydd and Regina exchanged glances. She looked dumbstruck; he was clearly scrambling to hide the depth of his reaction to this news. Crims had no Prince; Regina had no King. And yet, Zhithene had just predicted… had just confirmed…
Dafydd swallowed hard as Regina blushed, her gaze falling to study her teacup. He'd always known that she was never meant for him, of course, but to have it confirmed like that, for Zhithene to so bluntly state that there was a son in her near future… What place was there for him, in this future? How could he stand to watch another man with the woman he loved? Lionheart King… For Fates' sake, did that mean that Leferidae's flirtations were more serious than he'd thought? Was he due to become the King of Crims, to take everything from Dafydd?
Zhithene, blithely ignoring the young couple's reactions, turned to face the White Royals. "Marmoreal's spread is the Two of Swords, the Reversed Two of Cups, the Hermit, the Reversed Five of Swords, and the Reversed Emperor. For the current King and Queen, I see a time of perfect harmony- perhaps too much peace. As for the future King and Queen, they have much personal growth ahead of them. A painful time for them both, a time of hard lessons and difficult questions. They have crossed through a desert, but there is still a long way to go before they find their way home."
Mirana and Kalen twined their fingers, looking complacent. Lily, though her face was trained to composure, revealed her tension in the set of her shoulders and her ramrod straight spine. There had not, as yet, been any talk of Lily marrying; Mirana had stated that there was no need to rush on that point. And anyways, who would Lily wed? There were no appropriate princes on this side of the Sea, and it had been a very long time since Underland had had any meaningful contact with the Overseas Kingdoms. Why should Lily have to worry about marrying? She had no need for a King; her parents were still alive and well, and showed no signs of Aging or abdicating.
Zhithene inhaled another lungful of smoke, exhaling it as she turned her attention to the Russets. "Snud's spread shows the King of Cups, the Reversed Four of Swords, and the Eight of Coins. A time of great prosperity. But be you careful that you do not become so focused on material success that you ignore impending danger. The dangers that affect all of Underland will have an affect upon you, as well, though you are not direct players in the game of thrones."
Alice and Lamia exchanged raised eyebrows and questioning glances. It was true, Snud usually wasn't involved in the workings of Underland at large; it had been so for generations. Especially since the war between Iracebeth and Mirana, Snud's importance had fallen very low on the priority list. Was that soon to change?
Zhithene turned her attention to the Blue Royals, smiling faintly to herself. "For Witzend, I drew the Reversed Ace of Wands, Reversed Temperance, the Page of Swords, and the Five of Coins. A happy spread. Like the other queendoms, a time of prosperity and new ventures. The Dreaming Queen's dreams will spread further than ever; the Hatter King will influence coming events far more than even he shall be aware, I think. In that, the Sky Prince will very much take after you, Tarrant. Quite a little bundle of chaos, you're due for."
Alice's cheeks flushed quite prettily, and a baffled smile grew on Tarrant's face. A Sky Prince? They had never discussed that probability; or at least, not for untold years… They had had dreams once, of course, but then Regina had disappeared and they had squandered so much Time… Was now the time to re-examine those dreams and plans, perhaps? Were they meant to take every last Second Chance they could find?
"But there is a larger spread, one which overshadows all your separate readings. The Fool, the Reversed World, and the Reversed Hierophant," Zhithene said thoughtfully, chewing meditatively on her hookah wand. "It concerns the coming of the Fool, the beginning of a new quest. Quite a fearful adversary, the Puppetmaster, but don't be deceived. The Fool represents a rare chance for a new beginning, the start of a new quest. All of you shall enter the journey, at one stage or another, and even though the fight truly only belongs to two, all will be affected by the outcome. You must all grasp at opportunities as soon as they arise, for if you do not, they will pass you by, and you will regret it."
She paused, her gaze searching each face above her. Dafydd shifted uneasily in her seat; this Keeper's gaze was far too focused and keen for his liking. As though she could see directly into his soul, read every secret he held so close, and found him very foolish for keeping so much to himself.
"Still, this is a great time for learning, and listening, and loving," Zhithene stated. "There will be marriages, and births, and quite a wonderful time for you all, if you can rise to the Fool's challenges."
Silence followed this foretelling. Perplexed glances were tossed from person to person as understanding dimmed and was overwhelmed by confusion. Zhithene, watching them all, smiled serenely.
"Well, I can't put it any plainer than that," she stated, thoughtfully biting her hookah wand. "However, you will see clearly soon enough. After all, the game is about to begin."
Time was behaving oddly again. He galumphed like an awkward newborn Colt, in fits and starts; minutes after days post hours following seconds. Then she would turn and look at him, or touch his sleeve, or say his name. And Time would come to an abrupt halt, leaving him breathless and suspended, dependent on her for his next heartbeat. But he didn't mind the breathlessness and the lack of pulse; he hoarded those Time-less moments, those frozen instances where they managed to connect. He knew they would only last a moment; he would find her for an instant, and then lose her again, and the days would continue to slip past while they ran this Caucus race.
It should have been driving him Mad, the fact that even Time was dependent on Regina. But he couldn't bring himself to mind. It was fitting, wasn't it, for Time to attach itself to the center of his universe, to run based on her movements and actions?
It had been almost five weeks; at least, that's what Ioan had told him. In reality it had been twenty-three touches, forty-eight Good Mornings, another forty-eight Good Nights, and roughly two hundred sixty-three glances. There had been one hundred thirty-seven cups of tea, nineteen frustrated groans, three precious, beautiful laughs and forty-eight smiles of different strengths and brilliances and durations that were just as priceless. He marked his days by her smiles; the day wasn't allowed to end until he'd managed to coax her lips upwards. Everything else was just a bonus, really.
They had returned to the Cerulean Castle after their introduction to the new Keeper. They had tried to carry on, to find normal again, to re-establish their routines. They'd had mixed success with that, honestly. How was it possible to return to normality? They were none of them the people who had lived that former normal life, and the more they tried to force themselves to normality the more it became apparent that their former lives now fit about as well as clothing three sizes too small. And as if the past wasn't enough to contend with, there was the future to consider. How could they make pretenses of normality, when that same normality was so soon to end? Very soon now, there would be no more Azure Princess residing in Witzend. They were about to craft themselves a new reality; how could they attempt to cling to the old version of reality that had been so determinedly swept aside? Yet how could they be faulted for trying to hold to the only version of reality they had known?
Dafydd sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose; all this thinking was doing nothing but giving him a headache. In any case, he had no spare Time to waste in thinking. Time, with his uneven galumphing, had lurched ahead so far as to abruptly fling them right into the very night before Regina's Queenmaking. The new castle had been completed with more speed than Dafydd had thought possible, and within two days of its completion it had been filled near to bursting with members of the Court and their possessions. Dafydd and Regina had overseen the packing of all their possessions, and had officially moved into their chambers three days ago. They had been closely followed by three sets of Royals and all their various attendants, all of whom had come to see the Queenmaking. Dafydd was frankly surprised that they weren't flowing out of the doors and over the walls like so much water bursting through a dam.
And tomorrow, Regina would be made Queen of Crims. Dafydd honestly had no idea what the process of the Queenmaking Ritual entailed; he knew only that as her Champion-To-Be, he was one of the only four people permitted to be in the chamber when it happened. He thought his presence was entirely superfluous; this was, after all, perhaps the only thing he could not protect her from. And yet, when he mentioned that to Regina, she had turned pale, her eyes fading to the gray color he so hated to see.
"But you must be there," she had said, in a voice near to a whisper. "I need your strength, Dafydd; I can't do this without you. Swear you'll be there."
He had immediately sworn, of course. And even though he couldn't follow her through the ritual or the trial she would undergo, he had ordered a silver ring with an amethyst jade stone made for her. If he couldn't stand beside her, she could at least wear this piece of him and keep it with her as she underwent her test.
Dafydd sighed wearily as he closed the door behind him and walked into his suite of chambers. With an impatient motion he dismissed the servants; he didn't much care for being waited on, and he had no mind to deal with the chattering, tittering bed women or the stuffy chamberlains. He'd been surrounded by people all day long; if he didn't get some solitude he was going to scream.
Once the servants had left, Dafydd crossed into the bathing room, groaning softly as he squatted beside his tub and fiddled with the knobs to start the flow of hot water. While he waited for the tub to fill, he wandered out into the main room, tilting his head and listening; he could just barely hear the sounds of movement and the murmur of voices in the rooms next door. Good, Regina was finally retiring for the night. He would check on her after he'd bathed, he decided; make sure that she was settling down and going to sleep. As Champion, especially to a White Queen, it was his right and duty to take the adjoining chamber to Regina's, so that he could be with her at a moment's notice should he need to be.
Still, it was far removed from sleeping at the foot of her bed. He'd not slept in the same room as Regina since their return from the Outlands. He couldn't very well expect after whatever it was he'd said or done to her that she would feel comfortable allowing him so close. But he missed her; missed seeing her tiny form curled up in the blankets like a kitten, missed her soft breathing and the way she mumbled in her sleep. He'd held conversations with her on more than one occasion, when insomnia plagued him and he could think of nothing else to do than watch her…
But, those days were done. Or at least, out of his reach for the foreseeable future. Until then, he had his own suite of rooms, his own oversized bed. He would stay in his rooms, she would stay in hers, and he would re-learn how to sleep without her. Maybe. Or maybe he was just doomed to insomnia and un-restful sleeps broken by frequent nightmares.
Shaking his head free of his thoughts, Dafydd returned to his tub, shutting off the tap and stripping down before easing into the tub, wincing at the slightly-too-hot water. He sank down into the water, resting his arms on the sides of the tub as he tilted his head back to rest against the edge.
He closed his eyes against the ugly colors which he knew would leach out of him and into the bathwater. He was grateful that the water could somehow draw out his emotions, that he could purge them and be tormented by them no longer; but at the same time it seemed pointless. There would always be more emotions to replace those he'd let go of, and most of them, it seemed, would be these same painful ones.
He turned his head to the side, his eyes fixing on his abandoned breeches. Lazily, he leaned out of the tub, digging about in his pocket for the small rock which hadn't left his person once in the two months since he'd found it.
A Heart Rock. An honest to Absolem Heart Rock. He still, after two months, couldn't fully believe that he'd found one. It was a custom among his people; exactly where the tradition had come from, he didn't know. Maybe someday, he'd ask Tarrant if the Hightopps had a similar custom… It was part of a couple's courting. If the boy truly wanted to marry the girl, he was sent into the deserts of the Outlands, there to remain until he had found a rock in the shape of a heart. Emotions were so fluid, so prone to change. But the rock would never lose its size or its shape; the rock was a promise that the boy's affections would remain just as true as the stone. When he'd found his Heart Rock, he had to return home and present it to the girl he loved; if she accepted his Heart, they were wed.
And he had found just such a rock, though in his Madness he had pushed Regina away…
He rolled the rock between his fingers, considering. Was it right that he had this? After all, Zhithene had stated with painful clarity that a child lay in Regina's future. So she was soon to be married to one called the Lionheart, and she would be forever beyond his reach. And if he could never give her this Heart Rock, this declaration and physical symbol of his love, was it right that he should hold it? What if some other clansmen should need a Heart Rock, and couldn't find it, because Dafydd had taken it? But contrariwise, Dafydd had found this rock. If some other former Nazari should need a Heart Rock, Underland would provide one for him, even as She'd done for Dafydd, when he had no hope of completing the ritual.
No, he would keep this. He was about to lose Regina- to her crown, to Crims, to whatever lucky Lionhearted bastard was about to step forth and claim her as his wife and as the mother to his son. Let Dafydd keep this one thing for himself.
He closed his fist around the tiny Heart Rock as someone knocked on the door. "What is it?" he snapped.
The door opened to reveal his chamberlain, Stuffins, who dipped him a shallow bow. "Apologies, sir," Stuffins drawled in his nasal voice. "The Queen-To-Be has requested your attendance in her chamber."
Dafydd nodded silently, waving the man away to… buttle, or whatever it was butlers did. Dafydd hauled himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel on his way out and leaving his ruminations along with his emotions in the bath. His solitary moaning and angsting could wait until tonight, when he faced another night sleeping alone; for right now, Regina wanted him, and he would obey.
Sleep had not been kind lately. As a matter of fact, Sleep had been downright cruel.
In the weeks since returning from the Outlands, Regina hadn't slept more than four hours in a night, and never more than an hour at a time. She slept in fits and starts, fearing to sleep for knowing the nightmares that would plague her. And yet, simply laying in bed made her restless and irritable. Nearly every night she had been tempted to call for Dafydd, and for a bottle of strong dandelion wine; but no. No, let Dafydd sleep. Very soon, she would be made a White Queen, and he would have precious little time to relax his vigilance. For now, let him rest.
On this, the night before her Queenmaking, Regina wasn't even bothering to pretend that she might sleep. No, she was well aware that there was no sleep for her tonight. She had kept vigil the night before she became a Princess, too, she remembered; she had sat on her balcony in Marmoreal and watched the sun rise, and when dawn had come she went out to slay Stayne and take her place as the Azure Princess. There was no more slaying in her future, but it was somehow fitting that she should keep vigil, this night before she became a Queen.
She'd asked Dafydd to join her for supper. They hadn't had very much time alone in the last two months; always they'd been surrounded by people, and had to be Princess and Champion. Now, though, there was no one to disturb them; they could spend the entire winter night sitting up together, and no one could say a word.
Neither of them ate much, but they took their time at the table. Even when the meal was over, they hadn't gone to their separate beds; Dafydd had dragged a sofa to the balcony doors, and here they sat, each holding a goblet of dandelion wine. Regina knew that they should take care; they could not always turn to wine to distance themselves from their problems. She had heard stories, in London, of men who were always drunk and became volatile and abusive, of women who lost their beauty and their wits to ever-deeper glasses of blue ruin. Regina had no desire to lose herself to that particular brand of madness. But for right now, it was a balm; Peace in a bottle, more effective even than the Doctor's medicines. She had great need of the peace the wine afforded her; there was much she needed to say.
"When I woke up, in the Outlands," she began, her voice quiet and hesitant, "I found I was tethered to a desk. Niall was there, and Taran, and other men whose names I never heard. They were discussing the best way to… dispose of me."
She paused, taking a long sip of the wine, and while she didn't look at Dafydd she was carefully gauging his reaction. They hadn't talked about the Outlands yet; all mention of their misadventures was carefully avoided. She still didn't know exactly what had happened to Dafydd, or how her parents had reconciled; nor did she know what had befallen Lily and Ioan, that they were now at such odds when before they had been friends. And Dafydd didn't know what she had been through, what she had done. She feared his reaction to the tale she was about to tell, and yet she couldn't undergo her Queenmaking without him knowing. She had to tell him everything; if he decided that he did, indeed, hate her for killing his cousin, he deserved the chance to be rid of her before he was trapped by the Champion's Vow.
He didn't look at her; his eyes remained on the brightly shining stars. But he hadn't drawn a sharp inhalation, or tensed; he still seemed calm. A slight nod was the only response he gave, but so far so good.
"They debated whether to hold me for ransom, to force my parents to abdicate, or to send me back to the Aboveground. Or that maybe they would…" She cleared her throat, blushing, as she stared down into her wine. "They'd marry me to y-… to someone within the clan, to legitimize their hold on Tearmunn."
Oh goodness, her cheeks felt as though they were on fire! She knew it was often done in the Aboveground; marrying to cement ties of alliance. Indeed, that was how nearly all royal marriages came about in the Above. Dafydd was something of a Prince among his- now their- people, and she was a Princess. It wasn't so unthinkable that they should be married, even now, to further cement the ties between the new Hightopps and their homeland.
Oh, why was she torturing herself with thoughts of marriage? Alright yes, when Zhithene had told Regina that she was to bear a son, she had thought… had hoped… Niall had said that a Queen's Ace became her husband if she didn't find a King to suit her, hadn't he? But those dreams were foolish. Maybe Dafydd didn't hate her, but neither did he love her. Other than that moment of Madness on the Brae, he had never once looked at her in a way that indicated love, or given any sign whatsoever that he thought of her as anything but his Queen. He would resent an arranged marriage, she was sure, and she couldn't force him into something like that simply because she wanted him for herself.
No, she had already stolen enough of his life, by accepting his promise to become her Champion; she would let go of her love for him. He deserved a life outside of his Vows to her; she wouldn't tie him to her in every possible way, simply because she'd lost her heart to him. And anyways, didn't he have a Betrothed somewhere among the clan? Afanen, wasn't it? Why on earth was she imagining his kiss had meant anything, when he'd already been Promised to another woman? She would have to bring the woman to her Court, she supposed; it wasn't right to separate Dafydd from the woman he loved… She winced. Oh, that would drive a knife right through her heart, to watch Dafydd wed another woman. But how could she do anything else? Yes, Afanen would have to have a place at Court, and Regina would see them married; it was only right.
Shaking her head slightly to free it of her thoughts, she continued. "Eventually they decided to just kill me and have done with it. I… didn't help myself there very much," she admitted. "I lost my temper a little."
She glanced at Dafydd out of the corner of her eye, and a small answering smile graced her face when she saw one corner of his mouth quirk up in amusement. But still he didn't speak, and for that Regina thanked him; if he interrupted her, she wasn't sure she would ever be able to finish this tale, and she had to tell it to its completion. Biting her lip, she tucked her legs beneath her, sitting with her back against the armrest. She still couldn't look at Dafydd, so she lowered her gaze to her wine goblet, playing with the heavy chalice as she spoke.
"They left me alone, all that night. I thought… I hoped that if I could just find a way to get free, I could find my way back to Underland. I knew you would be coming, and Da… I wanted it all to be over before a war erupted." She swallowed thickly, sighing; that plan hadn't gone so well. "Morning came, and Taran came to take me away. They didn't tell me whether it would be poison or a knife or being ripped to pieces by wild animals, and I didn't ask. We got to the gorge, and…"
She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered. Fast; it had all gone so very fast. From the moment she tackled Taran until the moment she sat straddled over him, his blood slick on her hands, it was all jumbled together in a blur.
Dafydd swallowed hard, hesitantly reaching forward to wipe away her tears. "You don't have to tell me…"
She shook her head; she did have to tell him, or she'd never find peace. "I killed him," she confessed. "I… suppose it hardly matters how. But it was quick," she added, a hint of desperation in her voice. "I didn't torture him."
"I know, dearbadan-de," Dafydd said softly, his hand cradling her face. "I know you didn't."
"I'm sorry, Dafydd," she whispered thickly, hardly able to see him through the tears that poured from her eyes. "He was your cousin, and I… I'm so sorry."
He drew her into his arms and she didn't resist; she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobbed. She cried for the blood she'd spilled, for the grief she'd brought to Taran's family, for her own lost innocence and for the guilt that sat so heavily in her heart.
When she'd finally stopped crying, Dafydd refilled both their goblets. Regina took it gratefully, drinking it all down in long swallows. She sighed in relief as she felt the wine warming her, and her head going fuzzy; oh, this was better. Closing her eyes wearily, she laid her head on Dafydd's shoulder, curling into his warmth like a kitten.
"I had to tell you, before tomorrow," she murmured, surreptitiously breathing in his scent. "So in case you were still mad at me you could back out before you made the Vow."
He squeezed her shoulder, as though he could pull her further into himself. Fighting back the impulse to lean down and kiss the top of her head, he forced himself to speak.
"I've made my choice, Regina," he said softly, staring up at the stars for fear of what she might be able to read in his eyes. "I'm not leaving you."
He felt more than heard her sigh; felt her releasing her tension and sinking into him. Did she really fear him leaving her so much? How had he become so important to her? Was he worthy of the trust she placed in him? She didn't even know what he'd done… Well, she'd trusted him with what was clearly a very painful story for her; it was only fair that he do the same. She had left herself open to the possibility that he would leave her; now it was his turn.
"We were… I was frantic, when I realized you were gone," he began, closing his eyes against the terror that even now woke him from a dead sleep, fighting to remind himself that Regina was here, safe in his arms and blessedly, wonderfully alive. "We had no idea, at first, who had taken you or why, or if you were even still alive. Then we found Taran's clan marker, strung around a scrap of your dress."
He absently pulled his own marker out from beneath his shirt, his fingers idly running over the button. It was painted black, with a diamond pattern of undyed metal pressed into it. It had been given to him the day he was born, as every member of the clan received one. Would this tradition continue, now that they were home? Did the Hightopps have their own customs and traditions for clan identity?
His fingers stilled as Regina hesitantly brushed her fingers against the button, playing with it almost as a small child might do. Could she feel how hard his heart was pounding? Did she have any idea the effect she had on him?
"Clan markers?" Regina asked curiously, running her thumb along the button.
Dafydd nodded. "I forget the history. Something about the first Hightopp laird to come to these shores was obsessed with them, called all his children his buttons, so now we wear them in token of still being his children."
Regina nodded quietly, her hand falling away to rest on his abdomen. Drawing a breath to keep himself calm and under control, he carried on with his tale. Did it count as a confession if she was drunk and falling asleep? Would she remember in the morning?
"Alice came tearing to the Brae, screeching like a JubJub bird," he picked up his tale, smiling faintly as Regina giggled. "Said she was coming with us to the Outlands, gave no one any chance to tell her no."
"Sounds like my mother," Regina agreed.
"We rode over the Mountains as quick as we could- which wasn't very fast," Dafydd said ruefully. "Alice and Tarrant argued in the middle of the night, and she struck out on her own to try to get to you more quickly. Tarrant and I waited until dawn."
He glanced down at Regina; her face was thoughtful. He knew that she and Alice had reconciled their differences [finally and to Tarrant's very great joy], but he had no idea if she'd heard her parents' version of events. Was Regina aware that her mother had come to the Outlands for her?
"I hadn't known that," Regina said quietly, as if she'd heard his thoughts. "I'll have to ask her about it."
"When we got back to my clan, Niall told us that you…" His throat tightened, and for a moment he struggled against the remembered pain. "He said you were dead. I don't… I don't remember much, after that," he admitted. "I went Mad. Tarrant tells me that I hatched a plot to have the Council recognize Tarrant as clan laird, and I've been told there was a battle on Tearmunn, but… I don't remember, except for… There's one thing I do remember doing." He drew a deep breath, and then forced himself to speak his shameful secret. "I… I killed my brother."
Regina stirred, drawing a breath and looking up at him. She looked up at him and he could see the words crawling up her throat, but she bit her lip and kept silent, letting him speak. Dafydd's gaze fell to his lap; he wasn't sure he could confess this to her. But he'd come this far; he couldn't leave the rest unconfessed.
"I didn't mean to," he said helplessly. "I was just trying to get him away from you, but his sword… I wasn't… that's a lie," he whispered, dropping his head as the tears began despite his best effort to keep them back. "He was attacking you; I couldn't let him. I knew what I was doing. I wanted him pinned down and neutralized, and I…"
He covered his face with his hands, hunched over and shaking with the suppressed sobs. Now he was the one collapsing into Regina's embrace, and she the strong one holding him together, caressing his back and hair as though he were an infant.
As before when it had been her turn, when he'd finished crying himself out they didn't speak. Regina simply leaned over him and grabbed the bottle of wine, emptying it into their goblets. He wiped his face on his sleeve, embarrassed that she'd had to witness his weakness; but she didn't seem to think the less of him for it. And though he hated that he'd revealed so much weakness to her, he didn't shrug her hand off his back, nor protest when she tucked herself back into his side.
"I used to love the sunrise," Regina said softly, looking up into the dark night sky. "Before. Another dawn, a new day with new adventures… It mocks me, now," she continued, looking down at her hands. "The sun always dawns red for me. And every morning, I wake up knowing that I'm seeing the sun rise only because I took away Taran's chance to see it. I see red in the sun, and every night I watch blood leach out of my hands into the bath water. No matter how often I wash them, they'll never be clean."
Dafydd caught up her hands, gently forcing her fingers open and placing soft kisses on each palm. She shivered, her skin rising in gooseflesh, and though he was pleased with her reaction- maybe it meant she wasn't as oblivious to him as he'd thought- he was still aware of how her guilt and tension were thrumming through her muscles, coiling her tighter than a spring.
"I don't know how to live with this guilt," she admitted in a whisper. "It wasn't like this, with Stayne. I knew he was dead, I knew I had killed him, but I thought it was justified. He was going to destroy everything, kill everyone I loved. But Taran… he was just trying to come home, and I… I took that from him…"
Her head bowed, and a solitary tear fell down her face. Dafydd laced his fingers with hers, sharing her guilt.
"There are people in the Outlands, who believe that to murder someone is to split your own soul," he said, his voice no louder than hers had been. "That part of you dies with the one you kill."
Regina nodded, clearly understanding the sentiment. Dafydd wished he could find some words of comfort, anything to ease her grief over what she'd done. But he had no such words for her; Fates, he was in need of those same words himself. Could there be any consolation for what they'd done? True, they had each killed in self-defense, but was it right for them to have their lives because they'd ended two others?
"Mama tells me there was nothing else to be done," Regina said, her voice small as she determinedly stared at their interwoven fingers. "That they wouldn't have stopped until we were dead. That someone had to die for it all to end. But I don't know if that makes it right."
"I don't know," Dafydd shook his head. "I don't think we'll ever know."
"So… what now?" Regina asked. "I know we can't ever go back to how things were before, but… what do we do?"
Dafydd swallowed hard; ah. The eternal question, the one that very likely had no answer.
"We go on," he said after a long moment. "We wait for the sunrise. We try to enjoy the days we've been given, since we had to do such terrible things to earn them."
He said nothing else; there was nothing more to be said. Regina said nothing either; she simply sighed softly and curled into his side. Neither spoke, and very soon Regina's eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted off to sleep.
Dafydd knew he should carry her to her bed, let her sleep in peace. He should be checking in with the Fearail, making final preparations for tomorrow. But he couldn't bring himself to break the silence. Regina held him spellbound; he was trapped by her scent and her warmth and her tiny hand clenched around a fold of his shirt, as though she feared him leaving her alone. Leave? How could he leave her? He couldn't leave her, not when she meant life…
Carefully, he shifted them, easing them down until they were both reclining semi-comfortably on the sofa. Tomorrow she might retreat again, might withdraw the trust she was displaying, but for this moment they were alright again, and he wasn't about to give that up. Tonight, perhaps they might find peace. Even if not, at least they were together in their grief. Checking to be sure his claymore was within easy reach, he wrapped his arms around her- for warmth, of course- and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Sleep, ma taavi," he whispered, a dim memory floating through his mind of his father saying these words to him. "Sleep and know that I'll protect you from even your dreams."
Language Note: Ma taavi is Welsh for 'my beloved.'