AN: Thanks again for reading! Please feel free to review and let me know of any plot holes or things that I missed that make no sense. It's easier to fix them early on than have to go back. Thanks!
Weeks passed, and for her, things stayed much the same. She continued to visit with Angela regularly, and train with Brooklyn every Tuesday night. Goliath, now having realized that his continued absence was of no benefit to her, would invite her to sit with him in the library on occasion and while she often declined, it was good for her to know she had the option. He occasionally arranged for her to spend time with the entire clan, though he was diligent about making sure she would not have any access to a television, computer, or even as much as a newspaper while she was outside her normal boundaries. This didn't really bother her. She had long since ceased being curious of the outside world. As Xanatos often said, it would merely upset her, and the comings and goings of the residents of the castle were far more interesting to her anyway. The clan gatherings often included Hudson, who she hadn't seen in years and she was quite shocked and a bit saddened to see how frail he now looked. She still didn't know what to say to him, so she merely bowed her head respectfully when he acknowledged her.
She often thought of the young child of Oberon, although she hadn't seen him since that night in the conservatory. On one of her trips to the library, she attempted an inconspicuous search for some of Xanatos' tomes on the Fair Folk. She'd hoped she might discover some sort of clue as to his identity. But Xanatos must have thought the better of leaving books with such powerful information where she might get at them and had them removed to a more secure location. No matter though. She wasn't sure the length of a typical fairy's childhood, but she suspected this one was too new to the world to be featured in any ancient books on the powers of Oberon's children anyway. She frequently visited the conservatory alone in the hopes of catching sight of him. She never did, but she knew he was about. He always collected the offerings she left for him and often left his little dream charms for her.
The gifts were received in gratitude, for whenever she didn't have one, she continued to be tormented by nightmares of the Hunter. The dreams had become more detailed and now included the murder of her daughter and her daughter's future eggs. She'd seen Dr. Chatoorgoon during this time, and asked her if there was a way to quiet the dreams and Dr. Chatoorgoon had explained that dreams were merely the mind processing information, memories, and emotions as we slept. She was clearly unimpressed by this information, so the doctor had suggested a variety of treatments to lessen her anxiety before she slept, none of which seemed to help. She hadn't really expected them to, as she had a very strong sense that this recurring nightmare was more than just a manifestation of her resting brain processing memories as the doctor suggested.
"You are the last of your treacherous kind! See for yourself, then! Go and search for your kin! Search until you and your kind are but a nightmare memory!" It was Gluoch, the wife of Macbeth. Her words echoed in her ear as she cried out in pain at the sight of her daughter, shattered in her sleep. She cried out again and shook herself violently until she broke back into consciousness. Drenched in sweat and tears, she held her throbbing head, still trembling.
"I heard you crying again," came a clear voice and her head jerked up in surprise. There, at the foot of the bed, was the face of the little child of Oberon, glowing like the moonlight.
"So, you've come back after all," she said in a voice so quiet, it was almost a whisper.
"Why do you have such awful dreams?" he inquired.
"I suppose, because I have such awful memories," she explained.
"But memories can't hurt you, can they?" he asked.
"I'm afraid, they can. Perhaps my memories can hurt others as well," she said, slowly lowering herself to crouch on the floor beside him.
"I don't see how," the boy shrugged.
"I think the dreams aren't just dreams. I think they may be a warning," she explained, "I was hoping maybe you could tell me." The boy's eyes widened.
"You mean, tell your fate? I'm pretty new at that. I'm not sure I should."
"Please? I'm not likely to encounter any more experienced fairies while I'm locked up in this castle day and night, am I?"
"True," he admitted, and his face suddenly became mischievous. "What would you give me?"
"What would you like?" she asked him anxiously. She hoped it was something she could convince Owen to order for her.
He grinned and said, "More of those chocolate balls with the sprinkles!"
"Done," she agreed with relief.
"All right, I'll try my best," he promised, and he pulled at her hand, leading her to the open space in the middle of the room. He directed her to kneel on the carpet, so she was about level with his head. Standing face-to-face with her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Uncomfortable with the proximity, she instinctively closed her eyes.
"You must be in a trance first," he told her, and she felt a warm energy on her shoulders that traveled through the rest of her body. Suddenly, she felt a strange, floating sensation, as if his hands were a magnet, suspending her in the air. And with a burst of energy, she returned to her dream. At first, she felt a flash of panic at the sight of the Hunter, but it was different, watching the scene through the boy's eyes. She was able to walk through the vision, with the child of Oberon holding her hand. He watched the dream, and they continued walking, searching through many of her other memories.
"What do you see?" she asked earnestly, as the images of her past swirled around them so rapidly it was almost impossible to tell one from another.
"You were right. There are curses on you," he informed her, "Three of them."
"Three?" she thought, "Sounds about right, given my ill fortune."
"None of these curses were brought on you by back luck," the boy informed her without much sensitivity, "You brought them all on yourself. The strongest was put on you by Puck, the Shapeshifter. The one that transformes you into a human with the sunrise. And you must have really made him exceptionally angry because it's a big one! Even your great-great-great-great grandchildren will carry it on them, though they won't experience the pain you do. No one can lift a curse this powerful except Puck himself, and he's lost his powers. And, of course, it could be lifted by…
"Lost his powers?" she interrupted curiously, "How?" The boy suddenly looked shy, as if he realized he'd said too much, but he cryptically replied,
"No one messes with Lord Oberon. And unless Puck somehow manages to convince his master to return his powers, Lord Oberon is the only one who can remove Puck's curse from you."
"But I already know of that curse and my only child was born centuries before I ever encountered Puck. His retribution against me is a humiliating nuisance, but that's not the curse I need to worry about." The boy spoke again.
"The second curse was placed by the Weird Sisters," he explained, "The curse that binds you to Macbeth and makes you both immortal until one of you kills the other. It's a conditional curse, and it's not nearly as strong as Puck's, but my magic isn't strong enough to break it either. It could be meddled with though. Death is not the only way to release you from it. If you could…
"But I already know all about that curse as well," she interjected impatiently, "And that isn't the curse that threatens to destroy my kind. What are these dreams telling me? Is the clan doomed? Will the Hunter destroy them? Is there nothing I can do to stop it?"
As if in answer, the swirling visions halted and they both saw the image of a young Scottish woman, attending a festival. She was well-adorned in the finery of wealth and privilege. Ribbons and jewels bedecked her flowing hair. Elaborate Celtic embroidery was stunning on the bodice of her silken gown. Her face was as fair as any, by all accounts, but it hid a heart filled with bitterness as she walked beside a man she had never wanted to marry.
"Gluoch," she said in surprise, recognizing the young woman who she knew would, one day, walk beside another husband; her old friend, and enemy, Macbeth. They watched as the young bride and groom made their way around the festival. The people quickly stopped and bowed apprehensively before them as they approached. The woman's husband, Gillecomgain, was a favorite of the prince and a powerful and easily provoked man. His young bride detested him and was poor at disguising that fact. It would have been easy to assume it was the disfiguring scars across his face that repulsed her, though he was an otherwise handsome man. But it wasn't that. Some would have guessed that it was his violent and foul temperament. There would be some truth to that, for Gluoch found her husband's rage distasteful, despite it having never been directed at her. In truth, it wouldn't have mattered if he was the gentlest of souls. She loved another man. As he was not the one she loved, she detested him, and resented being his wife.
The gargoyle and the child of Oberon watched as the young woman approached a vendor's stall. She was admiring a broach. The silverwork on it was modest and unimpressive, but the stone itself caught her eye from far across the path. She seemed captivated by the color, which seemed to swirl and change as she watched it.
"It's enchanted!" croaked the old crone of a vendor, as if reading the young noblewoman's mind, "From the land of Avalon. Its magic can summon your true love or torment your enemies! Your choice!" The old woman cackled at her own joke while Gillecomgain snorted in disgust.
"Don't listen to the rubbish of an old hag!" he chided his wife, "The land of Avalon, indeed! Still, the stone is lovely and suits you well, my lady." Gluoch raised her eyebrows and gave him a rare smile. Sensing an opportunity to please her, he removed his purse and tossed some coins at the old woman, careful not to touch her.
"You are most gracious, my Lord," Gluoch praised as Gillecomgain fastened the broach to her cloak.
"May you enjoy the fortune you deserve, my lord!" the old woman called after as they departed. Though neither of the preoccupied humans thought to look back, the gargoyle and the young fairy saw the old crone's eyes flash from behind her heavy cowl, and the mysterious glow of her wrinkled hands as the scene whisked away and was replaced by another, far more familiar to her.
Decades later, the same woman, struck with grief at the loss of her love, clutched the broach for comfort as she cursed the names of the man and the monster she held responsible. She uttered the same words remembered in the dream.
"You are the last of your treacherous kind! See for yourself, then! Go and search for your kin! Search until you and your kind are but a nightmare memory!" The gargoyle watched her former self, fleeing into the night and then watched the rest of the scene play out. Gluoch, broken and mourning, but realizing that her husband and one true love would have to live on without her in order to protect her son, said this of the Hunter.
"Let him never know a day's peace! May he and his descendants' descendants follow that monster into despair. Let them be forever haunted by the stain of their villainous treachery. And let them know no rest until she is destroyed as well!"
"Gluoch is the one who cursed me?" she cried in amazement, as the scene around them began to shift and spin once more.
"Yes!" he exclaimed, then added, "And I'm getting really good at this!"
"I'm glad you're pleased with yourself," she replied bitterly.
"Well, why are you so unhappy? You wanted to know about the curse, didn't you?"
"I'm unhappy because it seems my clan and all the rest of my kind in the world are destined to be destroyed by the Hunters and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Not destined at all!" he declared triumphantly, "Unintentional curses made by suffering mortals on the power of amulets they bought for cheap at a carnival are about the easiest kind of curses to break! Pretty much anyone could do it. You are very lucky!"
Confounded by the young one's concept of 'luck', she replied,
"Good. Break it, please!" He looked down sheepishly.
"Well…
"I'll give you all the sprinkled chocolate balls Xanatos can buy, just let my clan be spared by the Hunters."
"I know I said 'anyone', but what I meant was 'anyone affected by such a curse,'" he explained.
"What?"
"The curse has to be broken by you. Well, you or one of the Hunters." She scowled at the thought.
"How?" she demanded.
"That's simple. You just have to make amends and the curse will be broken."
"How can I make amends with the Hunters?" she wondered incredulously, "If Goliath and the clan can't convince them that gargoyles aren't monsters, then how can I expect to persuade them?" The child of Oberon nodded in agreement.
"You're not exactly the best example." A glare at his impertinence flashed in her eyes, but she was too weary to attempt to defend herself, even if she had a defense to provide.
"I don't even know what I did that initiated the hunt all that time ago," she complained.
"Well, I can find that out!" he replied brightly, taking hold of her shoulders again. The images around them swirled wildly until they formed the image of the first Hunter, Gillecomgain, as a youth, creeping into the dark corner of a stable, brandishing a pitchfork. She saw herself, raiding a feeding trough in desperation. She recalled that night. It had been a rookery summer, around seven years after the murder of her clan. The first time she had endured a rookery summer without her own mate, she had borne a sterile egg. The physical pain wasn't much, but the emotional pain, along with the prolonged isolation, had broken her sanity. She had hidden herself in the back of a sea cave, far from the rays of the summer sun that would rejuvenate her. Refusing herself any water or nourishment, she resolved to die that way, of a broken heart, before she would endure another ovulation. She had remained that way most of the summer, writhing in sorrow and starvation and waiting for death to relieve her at last. But she hadn't died. And one night, as she lay there, half delirious, she thought of her love and the happiness she'd once known with him. And it occurred to her that he would not have wanted her to die this way, and perhaps that was why she still lived. She'd crawled to the mouth of the cave, and let the healing rays of the sun land on her bare arms.
The next night found her, weak and desperate, at the first likely source of food she'd come across. And that is where Gillecomgain was unfortunate enough to discover her, raiding his master's barn. The sight of the human youth, threatening and insulting her, filled her with rage, and she struck him before fleeing. She now watched the exchange in disbelief and a bit of embarrassment.
"That'll teach you humans!" she had jeered incoherently at the lad, who was clutching at his face, hoping he hadn't been blinded. Suddenly, the scene disappeared entirely, and they were back on the floor of her room.
"That's it?" she demanded, "That's what all this is over? Doesn't it seem a little petty?"
"You shouldn't hit people," he pointed out.
"I know, I know," she snarled back, clearly irritated, "But when I think of all the innocent lives the Hunters have destroyed…"
"And all the innocent lives you have destroyed, seeking revenge against them," he pointed out.
"Yes," she admitted begrudgingly, "I always assumed it had to be something much greater to start a thousand-year vendetta. How do I go about making amends for something like this?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted, "But at least now you know what you did!" She rolled her eyes at his optimism.
"And I can't even leave the castle now. Am I supposed to send a letter? Dear Sir, I apologize for scratching the face of a stranger who lived a millennium ago. Kindest Regards, The Demon?"
"I don't think that will be enough," he informed her.
"I should think not. This curse isn't easy to break, it's impossible to break!" She crawled back over to the side of the bed, leaning against it wearily. The young child of Oberon followed her across the floor, sitting beside her in a comforting manner.
"Don't worry," he encouraged, placing a bag full of sweet dreams in her hand, "I love doing impossible things!"