This is the last chapter!
Dear Readers, thank you so much for your support, this is such a bizarre story, I didn't think anyone would read it! But it was very dear to my heart - and I just had to write it.
(In a few minutes I will add a chapter with some notes about the nature of this story and the "rules" I gave myself while creating this fic. You absolutely do not have to read those notes! Just some meta-rambling you can ignore.)
And now on with the story...
-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-
The snow is getting worse.
"This is a universe of beauty," Lord Darcy told Elizabeth one day (sunrise on the peaks), well, Elizabeth hates it now. Dying gold and greens of the late afternoon unfurling in the sky, light glittering on black stones, catching in the snowflakes, and she hates it.
This is a universe that kills.
Lord Darcy keeps walking. Elizabeth follows. It is very cold.
An hour passes.
-P-
Two hours. Three. Lord Darcy seems tired. Elizabeth sees it from afar, his exhaustion, how his steps catch sometimes.
He sits on a rock, to rest. She does not dare approach him. He is not looking her way, but he feels her presence, she's sure of it.
Now he is walking again.
Is he thinking of her? Indifference or mayhem?
-P-
A long time passes before Lord Darcy stops for good.
Elizabeth thinks the reason is he has to rest at last, but when she joins him, she understands. The trail stops above a very wide crevasse. The only way to the other side is to glide. Elizabeth has no glider. She cannot follow.
She turns to him – his eyes are already on her – and there is no indifference there – oh no, the universe may be ice, but he is fire. Emotions roaring. Despair, disbelief, hope, fear.
"Do not leave me," Elizabeth breathes.
"I…"
Lord Darcy looks away, gazes at the abyss, stares at her again. Night is falling; the wind is roaring. The undead will rise soon. If Elizabeth stays behind, alone… "You will die," he whispers.
She walks very near to him.
"I never lied to you. And I am not lying now."
He looks at the ravine, at the sky. He opens the glider. He puts his arm around Elizabeth's waist. He whispers,
"Hold tight."
(How often do you see the world with wings?)
They jump.
-P-
It is very cold in the heavens. The currents are crazy, biting winds gnawing at their skin, he holds her so close. She tries to hide her face in his shoulder and then – it's nobody's fault, really – skin against skin, body heat, she raises her head to him – their lips brush – they kiss – it is passionate and brief and extremely impractical, the air hissing, snow gone wild, Lord Darcy is so lost in the moment (and so tired), his arm slips and he almost lets Elizabeth fall – he grips her so tight after that – brutally they land on the other side, rolling in the snow, they find themselves lying on top of each other – so of course he has to kiss her again – "Is it real?" he asks afterwards, his voice is barely a sigh, so uncertain, "Is it true?"
"In my life, I have spoken nothing to you but the truth," she answers, before drawing him to her again, ice melting below her back, rageful flakes on their mouths – this kiss is ferocious also, passion and the last shreds of anger – when they break it off there are but questions and love in his eyes – but then – "you are freezing," he declares.
Elizabeth is shivering. And she knows he is weak still, even if he pretends otherwise. They have to find shelter. So they begin to walk, side by side, against the wind, his hand around her waist, holding her close. So close, actually, that when they find themselves for a few moments under the protection of a rocky wall they began to kiss again, feverishly. They resume their walk – but then they kiss under an old, black tree, then near a half frozen river, under the dubious protection on ancient ruins, and then anywhere, anytime, in the raging storms, his arms clutching her as if to prevent the elements from carrying her away.
Their faces are beginning to turn blue. Elizabeth laughs.
"We really have to get warm."
They find another Shrine.
It is open, again. They both pause when they see it – the Temple's blue light giving winter a phantasmatic hue. Together they are taken by a feeling of unreality – that sensation you have when you look at the stars at night – that the universe is so much complex than you are, or will ever be able to fathom.
-P-
Inside the Shine they begin to kiss again, in the eerie haze, surrounded by strange pillars and incomprehensible mechanisms. The secrets of the place are the most precious treasure the universe has to offer, and neither of them cares. They make a fire again, to feel human in this alien environment, Elizabeth laying the travel blankets on the floor; he divests her of her clothes, and kisses her bare skin – they are on another plane, somewhere where reality has shifted – come morning she is not a maiden anymore (really really not) – but she does not feel physically different.
You listen to old wives' tales, they tell you that this shameful, but mythical, act changes everything. Whatever. Drivel and nonsense. What it changes, though, is Elizabeth's bond with the man who sleeps, naked, in her arms.
She watches him in his slumber. All the little details. His skin, the way his thigh had felt under her touch. His smell, the stubble on his cheeks. She lies down and steps again into a world of dreams, feeling his presence all the while – when she opens her eyes he is awake and observing her.
They lay there, wordlessly, for a time, before he speaks, in a very low voice.
"In truth, I am still not sure why you are here, Elizabeth. But I must be a very selfish man, because in this instant I do not care."
Her eyes shine with amusement. "Oh yes! Your selfishness and cruelty are unparalleled, really, they are the talk of Hyrule. Selfishness is why you are here, in an unforgiving land, ready to give your life for others." She caresses the growing beard on his face – she's never done that to a man before – this is a night and a morning of firsts. "What will it take, my lord, to convince you of my heart?"
"I do not know," he answers, his eyes serious, but then he is stroking her bare shoulders, kissing her lips, her breasts, the crook of her neck, and mirth passes in his smile – "Maybe more of this?"
And there is more of this, much more, because a blizzard rages outside – with savage gales and vicious lightning. It would be too dangerous to venture on open ground, especially with metallic weapons. In Hyrule, lightning hunts travelers who carry metal, striking them where they stand, even If they try to hide the steel inside rolled covers and clothes. This is one of the laws of the world that is learned very young, like keeping monsters' teeth to make elixirs, or not stepping in swallowing mud – and despite her defiance of the Creators, that is not a rule Elizabeth would care to transgress.
So come two days and one night of strange and intimate touches, of orange light flickering on skins, of smiles and joy.
"You, marrying Fair Maid Caroline," Elizabeth teases in a low voice, while they are entangled and resting. (And very sweaty.) "Really. Fair Maid Caroline, at your side, every morning, at every meal – at every waking moment. You would have declared war to all your neighbors, just to get out of the castle. Or you would have asked Richard to throttle her."
"I resent the accusation, madam. I would never have Caroline throttled. I would only have fantasized about it."
Elizabeth refrains a laugh, and rewards him with a kiss. "This is what we should have started with," her husband continues, with such a smile as to make her heart soar. His hands wander in forbidden places, and their lips meet languorously again. "In the mountains, the first time, instead of speaking philosophy, this is what we should have done." Elizabeth turns very red – she is so embarrassed – not for who she is now, but for the maid she was. Lord Darcy sees it and laughs. "Then you would have been forced to marry me."
"Isn't it sad, that you are too honorable for your own good?" Elizabeth closes her eyes and think. "The truth is… after the trial – my travels – and you – I feel like such a different person, that I do not even know the woman I was then."
Lord Darcy watches the bizarre, impossible high ceiling. "I feel the opposite – like I have not changed at all. I am that same man still. Except I did not know how rare happiness was, and how hard it was to reach."
Elizabeth does not answer with words – she has never felt such tenderness, for any other human being, and feels that she never will.
-P-
"I am going to climb that mountain, and confront the monster," he states, the next morning. "As soon as the storm abates."
She was waiting for this. "I know."
"Alone."
"No. With me."
Lord Darcy caresses Elizabeth's cheek, pondering, and she recognizes that look – it is the same Richard had worn, when she stood at Pemberley's door. "Are you thinking of all the ways you could abandon me in this temple?" she asks her husband. "Or how you can tie me up so I would not follow you? Then you would perish – and I would die here."
He does not deny the thought – nor the conclusion.
"My beloved," says he, slowly, "what would be the point of both of us falling?"
"My point is, neither of us has to."
She holds him close and whispers back that same word of love he's just used – he does not answer, but on his countenance she recognizes wonder, and disbelief still.
The cyclops waits on top of Madorna Mountain, as was foretold. What was not foretold is the presence of Guardians. Four of them. They are cyclops too, in another way. Metal cyclops, with their lone eye of horror and death.
On her travels, Elizabeth has seen heaps of human bones blanched by salt and wind. Remains of forgotten battles, where no one has lived to tell the tale.
Guardians are the real monsters.
-P-
Lord Darcy takes his sword in hand. He remembers when Knight Charles kissed Fair Jane, before going to battle, during the siege. How he was jealous then. How he thought he would never have this.
So he kisses his wife now – on the top of the peak – the wind in their hair – the storm has gone, the sky is so damn blue, like a mockery – no snow here, just green grass and vast skies. When Darcy detaches he sees Elizabeth's terror and put a last, light brush on her lips – it is so obviously a farewell that she is ready to break.
"It was all worth it," he whispers.
The battle starts.
-P-
The cyclops sleeps, and Darcy could hit him at least once before the creature wakes up, but of course the heir of Darcy's House would fight chivalrously. So he walks toward the cyclops, stands in front of him, and shouts his challenge. Then only when the monster rise does Lord Darcy raise his sword – and yes. Duel and death.
Except a duel means two adversaries, and the Guardians awaken. Those four are still, locked in place; they cannot walk, as the most ferocious of them do. But they will shoot and kill with red light if a human enters their angle of view. And of course, while fighting the Cyclops and paring and dodging, Darcy will be a target – it is like a horrible, monstrous game. Elizabeth bites her hand not to scream, and then she spots the fifth Guardian.
This one walks, like a giant steel spider. This one Lord Darcy cannot escape. So Elizabeth grabs her bow and runs toward it to catch its attention. She gets it, and the four others as well – soon everything is blood and screaming and red-light beams and rocks and Cyclops; Elizabeth has to hold the Guardians' attention, the only moment she remembers later is when she shoots – her trembling hands on the bow – which does not do wonder for her aim – of course she misses.
The moving Guardian targets her then – no, all of them do, Elizabeth has five red spots on her back as she runs for her life and leaps for cover. But she hears the Cyclops' wails and growls and the noise of the duel; she is earning her husband time; she finds just the right angle behind her boulder and raises her bow again – she shoots.
The arrow goes right into the Guardian's eye.
It explodes and dies.
Somewhere, Lord Darcy's blade strikes too.
The Cyclops falls and transforms to dust, while Lord Darcy turns toward the Guardians. His victory has given him wings of rage – and he smirks as the monsters fall under his sword; there is nothing fair or honorable in the way he fights now, he's just ferocity and steel – and then the enemies are dead, and he is still standing, and he raises his sword as a challenge to the heavens, and laughs.
As an insult to the Creators.
-P-
Elizabeth wants to laugh too – but she is under shock – she just sits down, heavily, on the very green grass, her back on a log.
Lord Darcy is soaked with blood – not his. "I cannot believe I am alive," says he, with a grin of fierceness and pride. "They said I should do it alone, and die; and I did it with you, and lived."
This time Elizabeth laughs. Lord Darcy sits besides her. They both rejoice silently under the blazing sun. All her muscles are trembling, she cannot stir, and she suspects he cannot move either – if even a mere Moblin appears, they will both get slaughtered without being able to raise a finger.
Time passes.
-P-
"I still cannot believe the heavens have not opened to strike me," Lord Darcy says.
Elizabeth smiles. Then she says, slowly, "Laughing alone, dying alone."
He looks at her questioningly.
"That is what the creators foretold, for me," Elizabeth explains, resting her head back on the wood. "You asked why I came back. Do you remember? That afternoon in the mountains, when you asked for my hand?"
He nods. He is still looking – he thought he would never gaze on her face again, after all.
Elizabeth sighs. "I walked to the edge of the world. Then I followed the great canyon, the one that none can cross. The earth was endless, ochre and red."
She laughs – it sounds fake.
"The oracles had begun six months previous. You know how they work. Every seer I met. Every drifter with the Sight, every child blessed with truth. 'She who laughs alone will die alone,' they said. To me. For me. There was talk of a cave north of Eldin, not far from Death Mountain, where the earth was so hot you could hardly stand – that cave was my destiny – I was supposed to become a sort of hermit, you see. To be visited by others, to give them cynical wisdom and ironical predictions."
"You were to become a seer."
"In a way, yes. A loner, like my father, I thought at the time – yes, he has a wife and five daughters, but still – he spends his life alone. That same fate was in store for me. It was the will of the Creators."
Lord Darcy is still listening. Still watching.
"I tried to reason with myself," Elizabeth says. "This was not such a bad fate after all. The universe knew me well. This was independence of thought; independence from others, this was strength. How many women, shackled to the Wickhams of this world, would envy my position?"
There is a silence. They both listen to the sounds of the mountain.
"Still, bile rose in my throat just thinking about it. The thought of solitude and irony – it made me shiver – so see – that day – I was following the canyon, walking in the heat, with no goal but to avoid my future. I was trying to lose myself, to disappear… Going farther and farther, hoping, I suppose, that I would just cease to be…"
The rustle of the grass. The light buzz of the insects' flight.
"I was so tired. The sun was so hot. I climbed on a peak of rock, and I just laid there, on the stone, and waited to die."
Elizabeth pauses. "My eyes were closed. Maybe I drifted into slumber, I do not know. Suddenly, everything stilled. The universe became perfectly silent. I opened my eyes… and I saw it. The Red Dragon."
Lord Darcy sits up and stares. He is stunned. "That beast… It does not exist. It is a legend."
Elizabeth shakes her head, smiling, her eyes glittering. "No," she whispers. "It is not."
(This is a universe of beauty.)
"It was flying slowly, long and elegant, undulating in the air like a snake of fire. Nothing stirred – not a breeze, not a bird – it was as if the concept of noise had never existed – I was frozen in place and… It passed just over me, so near, if I had raised my hand, I would have touched it…"
Elizabeth sits up to face Lord Darcy, eyes shining still.
"The beast disappeared into the night sky, and I knew. Such beauty, such power, such wonders in the world." She takes her husband's hands in hers, and looks at him in supplication. "I knew I did not want to die. I did not want to be alone. I did not want to live in a cave and be bitter and wise, I wanted to see my friends again, my family, my father, and Jane. I wanted… to love, and be loved."
She holds his hands so tight.
"And then my Lord… I thought of you…" There are tears in her eyes, and now in his, too. "I came back for you. It seems crazy, I know, because I did not love you at the time. But I thought of your bravery, your kindness… your cleverness, your loyalty. And I thought that – yes, I did not love you, but somehow I knew you were the only man I ever could."
He cannot speak. His hands tremble. Their foreheads touch.
She smiles, through her tears.
"I am sorry it has taken so long."
-P-
When they begin the long trek down, on the morrow, they are holding hands – or he has his arm around her waist. He does not need to. The wind has abated, and the air is calm and serene.
They do not talk much.
It is already so astonishing – that they are together, and alive, and in love.
-P-
They cross the southern pass and the world spreads at their feet – the plains, the lake, the barely discernible shape of the Great Plateau, very far away.
"I am so bad at fighting," Elizabeth muses.
Lord Darcy nods. "You are. But on the other hand, you are also reckless and totally unable to estimate true danger. So, you know, that evens out."
They look at each other, laughter in their eyes. "I killed a Guardian," Elizabeth protests, with feigned offense. "Maybe it was pure luck, but still."
"So you did. I suppose I should thank the Goddess for your survival, but…"
He pauses. They walk in silence for some time, deep in thought.
"We cannot tell," Lord Darcy finally adds. "In Pemberley. We cannot say that we both defied the Creators, and lived the better for it."
Elizabeth laughs. "No."
A lot of people are violating the Creators' will, every day, in little things. But they do not make a design of it, or they do not flaunt it – indeed, most of them do not even realize the patterns in their existences. But the Lord and Lady of House Darcy, announcing official disobedience, or at least indifference, to the general beliefs – there would be… no, not a rebellion, but unease. Incomprehension. Mistrust.
Elizabeth ponders. "We have to tell our children, though. We have to teach them to take their own decisions in order to learn to act within reason, and create their own happiness."
"And condemn them to a life of hypocrisy?"
She thinks.
The hero has risen. It is the fight of good against evil. The future is bright and brittle. Shifting.
"Maybe discretion will not be always necessary. Maybe… the world will change. Maybe we can play our part in it."
"But in the meantime, you want us and our children to lie," Lord Darcy says, not really knowing if he is horrified or amused.
"Yes."
-P-
The world is beautiful, and full of secrets.
