Oh dreamer, that I may dive
Into pure delight without distance,
Learn, by a subtle scheme,
To guard my fragile wings in your hand. [14]
----------
Outside the ancient dormer, while wagtails keep time, pairs of fair-breasted birds chirp, filling the blithe, crisp morning air with their Spring song. Underneath a thick pile of soft duvets, the young mistress of Mondestin stretches lazily along a displaced pillow, and sighs softly as she burrows deeper into the cocoon of warmth.
Several moments pass before she reluctantly opens her eyes; and she blinks at the rays of sunlight filtering through the half-opened tapestry drapes. With a soft squeal and a cheerful smile, the fair blonde pushes back the midnight blue flannel bedding and jumps off the high four-poster. Not bothering with her slippers, the young woman rushes forward. She throws open the windows and pulls back the heavy shades, instantly flooding the chamber with glorious golden light. Pressing up on her arms, Michelle looks down; and another small happy noise escapes her throat as she takes in the sun-drenched ground below. She hops back onto her feet, and turns away, her soft features beaming with the warm morning sun.
Unbuttoning and half shrugging off her oversized sleep shirt, the blonde crosses the large bedroom into the salle de bains. Within minutes, she returns, wrapped in her hunter green terry cloth robe. Even before the song birds could refresh their melodies, her wet footprints disappear into the adjoining closet.
And it's only a short time thence when a flash of hunter green slices through the air; and the heavy wooden door opens and closes before the bathrobe lands on midnight blue with a flop.
"Bonjour, Henri! Au revoir, Henri!" Her bright voice echoes through the grand foyer.
The aged chef du personnel shuffles to greet his young mistress and to open the door for her, "Bonjo..." Before he could do either, Michelle runs past him and merely waves him back. Henri smiles and shakes his head fondly, as the young woman moves hastily towards the garage. "Helene!" He then turns away the entrance and calls in loud baritone. Very shortly, a woman appears beside him with a bundle of flowers in her hands. "Jacques didn't give you a hard time, did he?"
"Nah! You know how he is, treats his garden better than his own self," the older woman shrugs and leans against her husband. "How's she this morning?" The intendante d'un chateau asks, worrying about her young employer. She was Renee de Lorraine's femme de chambre, and had followed her to Mondestin when the Marquise married Louis d'Estin. Helene was by her mistress' side when both her children were born; and even though she isn't as close with Michelle as she was with the young blonde's mother, she loves and cares for the fair child a great deal.
Before Henri could answer, the Delahaye screeches to a halt before him, and their son leaps over the door of the convertible. He runs up the walkway and grabs the cut blossoms from his mother's hands.
"Bonjour, Helene! Et merci beaucoup!! Almost forgot those." Michelle grins sheepishly, and calls from her auto, "Oh, no need to wait up!" In a few quick strides, Gerard returns and lays the fragrant bundle on the tan leather seat. "Merci, Ger!" She thanks her mechanic and stable master. With a smooth purr, the red automobile resumes its race along the winding road up the cliff.
Soon the mechanical steed disappears into the lush green surrounding, and Henri finally closes the door. "That answered your question, wife?"
The weathered face crinkled in response, delighted to see Michelle so happily distracted... for the first time since the young woman's return from Indochine, just like the way she sometimes was... or used to be... Helene sends a silent prayer to the Lord, thanking Him and hoping for change to last, and wraps her arm about her husband's waist as they retreat to the interior of the chateau...
"Don't say it!" The blonde warns dangerously as she hangs onto her warrior with a death grip.
"Say what? I wasn't going to say anything!" Xena feigns an innocent look, and tries to wipe the smirk off her face. It was her partner's idea that they follow Michelle in her car.
"Well, don't think it either!" Gabrielle grouses and pulls her lover's long arms tighter about her own body.
"C'mon, Love, it's not that bad." She brushes the blond locks back and dips her head down for a kiss aimed to distract. For the Warrior Princess, their rapid ascend along the tufa cliffside proves to be rather exhilarating. It reminds her of the rides on the Grecian shores... the pale white sand sent flying against the warm sea breeze by the galloping horse...
"She drives like you!" The bard retorts good-naturedly as her fingers wind themselves in her partner's dark tresses, pressing closer to her soulmate. She recalls the rare occasions she joined her lover on horseback, and the rush of fear mixed with excitement... and the way Xena would hold her, almost like she does now... and the secure knowledge that her warrior would never let her fall.
"And she's impatient like you." The warrior chuckles at the familiar flutter under the soft skin. *We can always get there the normal way, you know...*
*Uh-huh, we can, but we've never ridden in a car before.* While she'd never admit it, Gabrielle, ever curious, had been dying to try out the automatic chariot. "And it's enthusiasm, not impatience," the bard corrects, wrinkling her nose, then resettles her head against her mate's chest, "and this is actually kinda fun..."
"Aha! I knew it!" The raven-haired woman grins wickedly, and pulls her beloved closer still, *You're right, it IS kinda fun...*
Before the couple realises, the Delahaye left the narrow paths, and with her head now resting in her partner's lap, Gabrielle spends several moments enjoying the quiet views of pastures and vineyards. Smiling up to her beloved's clear blue orbs, she refocuses her attention on her young child, remembering her excitement, and observes, "It's nice to see her so happy."
Her mate follows her thoughts closely, and smiles, "And it's about time, too." For over a week, Michelle had been moping around the chateau getting ever more restless and sulky, waiting for the weather to break. The eternal lovers hadn't been too concern, as they remember their own youthful days, when both they and their love were young... Still, if they could have moved the elements for their child, they would... in less than a heartbeat.
"At least it doesn't take much to cheer her up," she taunts teasingly, alluding to her partner's still occasional dark, brooding ways.
"What are you saying? I'm difficult to please?" Blue orbs narrowed at the blonde, but at the same time a gentle wave of tenderness passes through the twin oceans... caressing her fair beloved... acknowledging the sometimes truth in those words.
"No and no..." the bard chuckles, then closing her eyes at the bright azure burning a path to her soul, returning the loving warmth... placing a gentle golden veil about the warrior's heart. Then her pink lips curl mischievously, she drawls, "But sometimes... I do... wonder..." letting another memory surface... and grinning when her partner takes a steadying breath at the vivid image.
The wicked pleasure that sparkles in the brilliant emeralds swiftly changed when her lover's demeanor turns suddenly serious, when the dark head bends forward. "You keep me very happy, you know that," the warrior whispers, her gaze locking with Gabrielle's own... an affirmation, even though none was necessary... a statement of gratitude and delicious contentment.
Reaching up, and stroking the sun-kissed cheeks lovingly, she replies, echoing her soulmate's sentiments, "Of course I do, and you, me." And she wraps her free arm around her immortal beloved's neck, closing their short physical distance.
*So this is fun, huh?* The warrior smiles against her mate's soft, searching lips.
*Yup.* The bard agrees, basking in their eternal connection...
At the steering wheel, Michelle taps her fingers rhythmically to the melody running through her head. Notes from the fresh and spontaneous sonata have been swirling about since the moment she woke up. Normally, she hates it when this happens, but at the moment, she's happy with the distraction, and even thinks the music most fitting. It isn't Spring yet, at least not technically, and not for several more weeks. However, the seemingly endless stretch of green along the south bank of the river, and the warm gentle breeze carrying the soft sweet scent from the vines and fields, make one feel otherwise.
The rainy days had certainly passed too slowly for the young woman. Usually, she loves
storms, the more violent the better, especially during long summer nights... There's
something about being on a steep precipice, experiencing the frightful powers of nature,
and feeling completely sheltered... But for the past week, all Michelle wished was for the
rain to stop; Christmas Eve came early for the fair blonde when the sky finally cleared
yesterday, right before dusk.
After an early dinner, Michelle spent some time in the garden with Helene, showing her the different flowers she wanted cut, to the gardener's great dismay. The small woman knew it was just an act though; for Jacques, despite his grumpiness, was always their staunchest defender when the blonde child and her playmates tracked bits and clumps of earth and grass into the chateau.
She grins, recalling how the old man tried but failed to hide the excited approval in his grey eyes when she shared with him her thoughts on the new design. *It's been a while...* the young aristocrat sighs slightly, remembering her once favourite activity. Glancing down to the bouquet beside her, Michelle feels slightly nervous, and hopes the simple gift will delight its intended recipient. A small voice in her heart tells her it will.
Unconsciously, the fair woman begins whistling quietly the tune in her mind, setting her spirit free with the music for the moment, complimenting, unaware, the relatively light, joyous mood with a delightful and infectious aubade for her ancestresses...
As the movement ends and the melody becomes introspective and quiet, the young musician turns to contemplate the words of the composer. His Heiligenstadt Testament, written slightly over a hundred years ago, was one of the first things she tried to read when she began studying the language. The sadness in the verse had touched her deeply, made her aware then, just barely a teenager, of the fragility and transient nature of most things, *Most 'human things'... relationships...* There's still a copy of the document on her wall, *To serve as a reminder...* She shakes her head, clearing it of remembrances of her one regret.
Her musing returns once again to the sonata, and her beloved instrument. In a way she's glad music doesn't seem to be affected by the current politics; and she decides to open her next concert with this particular piece, *IF I ever perform again...* She sighs softly. The violinist has many times entertained the idea of giving up her art and concentrating on learning how to manage her father's business. *Though I can't ask for better people... Nor for them to do a better job,* she reasons. The increase and return had been handsome during Michelle's self-imposed exile, despite the war; and profits have grown steadily since because of the rebuilding efforts. *Besides...* Money's never been the young aristocrat's real concern, not just because she has more then she'll ever need, and she hesitates. Music is where her passion is, it's an expression from the soul... a place not too many people are allowed into. *On the other hand, there's something inexplicably appealing about performing, and sharing with the audience...* It seems contradictory, but then her family has always accused her of being complicated. *And they're right sometimes,* she smiles self-depreciatively and agrees.
Something Beethoven wrote in one of his intimate letters has been in the foremost of her thoughts lately, and once again the words appear in her mind's eye. *"Oh God, look out into the beauties of nature and comfort your heart with that which must be - "...* Looking out to the broad, sandy banks of the River Vienne, the once forested heathland, *It must be, mustn't it?* She wonders again as the gentle road winds through woods of chestnut and ancient oaks, and onto rolling hills. *"Love demands everything and that very justly - thus it is to me with you, and you with me."* Michelle completes the quote, and leaves any and all thoughts unfinished as the red Delahaye zips past the Fontevraud forest.
The car slows a little as La Deviniere, the birthplace of Rabelais, nears. "Fait ce que voudrais!" The young woman speaks to no one in particular, borrowing the satirists words. She steps on the gas pedal again, and concentrates on the last lap of the short journey, with another lively, cheerful melody from the same composer on her lips.
Soon, the grim walls and imposing towers of the pre-Roman settlement come into focus.
Without a hint of hesitation, the blonde speeds along the narrow, twisted, cobbled
medieval streets, passes timbered-wood and tufa houses, and crosses the main intersection
at the stone well of the Grand Carroi. The small auto stops just before the winding street
slopes towards the ruins of the Twelve Century fortress, and its passengers hop out...
==========
==========
Then on my lips where flutters a flame
Shining of love which God himself has kept untainted,
Place a kiss and from angel becomes woman,
At once my soul
Will wake. [15]
-----------
"Mademoiselle Destin!" The silver-haired woman beams and welcomes the blonde inside, "Comment allez-vous?".
"Bonjour, Sofia! Bien, et vous?" She smiles brightly, suddenly taken by a gush of joy. "Please, call me Michelle," the young aristocrat requests, putting the flowers in the old woman's arms. "Oh, these are for you, hope you'll like them," she explains, flushing a little. Somehow, she feels a special fondness towards her friend's housekeeper; and while her small gesture wouldn't have been proper in the French haut monde, she's sure it'll be all right here.
"Merci, Michelle," the kindly woman responds, "Tulips and hyacinths, my favourite! How you know?" her clear blue eyes sparkle with surprise and delight. Aqua orbs widen in complete wonder, and the fair blonde blushes furiously when Sofia gathers her up in a warm hug and kisses her affectionately on both cheeks.
"Dete, you have a visitor!" She calls towards the terrace, then turns to the young woman, whose hand she refuses to let go, and chuckles conspiratorially, "You should see her, moping around all week, trying to pretend not be thinking..."
"Sofia!" Vesselina steps in from the opened glass door, and interrupts, "Please, do not listen to her," smiling shyly. Her crooked grin, brilliant against the morning sun and white interior gleaming with golden light, once again sends the fair woman's heart into a mad race.
Ignoring the wild flutter, Michelle asks, "I hope I'm not too early?" not quite able to tear her gaze away from the chiselled features framed by soft raven tresses and a pale silk shirt several shades lighter than the colour of her own eyes.
"No, you are just in time for breakfast," she assures her young guest, her low voice tender. The blonde jumps slightly at the sensation of a large gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her, as they step out onto the terrace.
Approaching the wrought iron furniture, she notices the extra place setting, and turns to her friend, "Are you expecting company? Am I intruding?"
Directing the fair woman to her seat and pulling out the chair for her, Vesselina grins with a raised eyebrow, "Yes and no." Pulling off the linen cover and gesturing to the pastries, she reveals, "Sofia made these especially for you. She somehow knew you would be here... though I would have driven over to Saumur if you did not come by." The tall woman admits, then adds after a moment of hesitation, "Also, I have something which would interest you and which might help explain the origin of the painting..."
"What's that?" Michelle asks, instantly curious.
"I will show you after breakfast," she replies, somewhat mysteriously, while helping a serving of baked cheese pastry onto the young blonde's plate, then her own as well.
Pale brows furrow for a moment at the hint of unease she caught in the older woman's tone, then it occurs to her, "Oh, speaking of the painting, j'suis desole, I haven't made any head way. Have been staring at it forever, but I still can't figure out." She explains regretfully, then continues with some relief, "It hasn't changed any though." Taking a small nibble of the breakfast pastry, and tasting, "Wow! This is good! What's in it?" she exclaims, appreciating the slightly salty pate feuilletee.
"It is all right..." The tall woman shrugs mildly, then forces a cheerful mien, "In fact, it no longer really matters..." The smile turns genuine as the blonde closes her eyes in obvious delight. "It is made of cheese and yogurt, and it is called banitsa, I am very happy you find it..."
Michelle is alarmed by the earnestness in her previous declaration, a tone she can easily discern. Dropping her fork, interrupting and ignoring the information about her meal, she responds passionately, "But what about the curse? It's NOT ok!" Unable to convince her heart otherwise, the young woman has finally allowed herself to believe. "I really want to help."
Vesselina smiles at her outburst, gratitude apparent in her green-blue orbs. "I know," she whispers, before looking away wistfully. The unexpected behaviour makes Michelle suspicious and uncomfortable. However, before she could press further, Sofia pokes her head in.
"How you two doing?" The housekeeper asks, jingling the small satchel in her hand. She looks as if ready to go out, though not quite dressed for travelling.
Vesselina looks at Michelle who nods in return, and pleasantly replies, "We are fine, Sofia. Go, there is no need for you to worry about us. Prekarvam dobre."
"Dobyr, I be back late, we making custard pie today and you know how she is with dough," Sofia winks, her kind features crease warmly. "You staying for supper, yes?" She turns to the young woman and asks with a twinkle in her eyes. "I bring you back custard pie." Then not giving Michelle a chance to answer, she pulls away and disappears.
The raven-haired woman looks at her guest, her lips quirking slightly with embarrassment. "Sofia is a little forward and too enthusiastic sometimes," she explains apologetically.
"No, no, I don't mind," the blonde quickly interjects, "She's wonderful; I like her a lot," speaking from her heart.
"Will you stay then?" Her hostess asks with undisguised hopefulness.
Michelle smiles her assent, thinking about the bit of morsel she tasted, and adds excitedly, "I wouldn't miss Sofia's dessert for the world!!" That's also an undeniable truth. However, what she really wants is to find out why her friend has the sudden change of heart. *Is it because of the thing she's gonna show me? What could possibly be in it... whatever 'it' might be?* Looking at the dark-haired woman intently, she knows that subject is closed for the moment. Held back in part by her upbringing and also her nature, the young woman decides against insisting on an immediate answer.
Choosing to address her guest's eager response, she nods in agreement and understanding and reveals, "Sofia is a great cook. She goes and teaches Genie and Sylvie how to make dishes from our homeland every Saturday morning... Their apartment was where she went. They are not very good chefs, but unlike me," she grins ruefully, and continues, "They are very eager to learn. You have met them?"
"Um-hmm..." She works around a mouthful of pastry, and swallows, "Oui, both times when I came. They seemed very nice. Sofia told me a little about them." Then her memory clicks, "Oh, do you mind if I asked what you said to her?"
"No, not at all," Vesselina chuckles, pleased that the young French woman is taking an interest in her native tongue, "I told her to have a good time; and she said 'good' in reply."
There's more than language on Michelle's mind, although it's indeed one of her passions. She just wants to know all she can about her friend, *Something about this woman... Why...? What if...* The blonde shakes her head clear of the confused thoughts, and smiles to herself, remembering the decision she made during the drive through La Deviniere, "Do what you will." she had said. Taking a chance, she decides to change the topic and asks, "Umm, I received an invitation from a friend for her annual costume ball, would you like to go?" It's not a party that the young woman normally attends herself, even though Romaine has time and again pressures her to. As Vesselina appears to hesitate, Michelle begins to wonder if she should have brought it up; it might be too soon and the party's some time away yet... And she holds her breath, until the familiar lopsided grin appears.
"Sure, I would love to go," she responds softly, and the young woman's pulse skips at the tint of sultriness in her voice. "Where is this event?"
"Paris... A good friend, Romaine Evans, holds a party at her studio in Montparnasse on May First of every year," the blonde explains. She then adds, "I don't know if you've heard of them, but she comes up with the wackiest ideas." Most members of the haut monde have, and some of them look at the annual gathering with disdain, but these same people would also try almost anything to get themselves invited. Costume balls are as popular as Negro revues and Le Jazz Hot these days, especially the gender-bending, outrageous one thrown by the famed artist and American heiress.
Michelle pales when she saw an unidentifiable look fleets past her friend's fair features, *Mon Dieu! Did I make a mistake? She did kiss me back? Didn't she?" The small woman worries, recalling the first time their lips met, and hope against hope that she only imagined or misread the expression.
"Ah, l'Amazone, as they called Madame Evans! Oui, I have heard of her balls," the raven-haired beauty smiles warmly, providing reprieve, "I think it will be great fun. What is the theme this year? And what are we going as? We do have to dress up, do we not?"
"Yes, we do," Michelle grins back, wiping an imaginary hand across her brows. And for the rest of breakfast, the two friends talk excitedly about what they're going to wear... All the possibilities...
And on the wrought iron ledge, unbeknownst to the young women, blue and green meld in a joyous, passionate embrace... At the prospect of their very own happiness...
Taking advantage of the extraordinary weather, the two women decide to stay on the terrace, and Vesselina excuses herself. Waiting for her friend's return, Michelle leans against the railing and takes in the vast view for the first time. Prominent in her vantage point, is the Fourteenth Century clock tower that houses a small exhibit of the life of the Pucelle d'Orleans. The blonde visited parts of the castle when she was young, and always wonders how things were like back then... how the peasant-maiden was able to recognise her dauphin amongst his courtiers. She yearns to know how it feels to receive a calling so strong that one is willing to sacrifice everything and anything without falter, like the young warrior did... *Like Etienne did...* And her gaze follows the bridges linking the chateaux separated by moats, the broken but still impressive ramparts, and loses herself in the lush, deep woods that separate the past from the present...
"Bonjour, Madame." A keen greeting brings her back from her reverie.
"Bonjour, Marie, comment ca-va?" The aristocrat acknowledges the warm regard, and likewise salutes. Then a movement from within catches her attention; and involuntarily, her visage brightens at her companion's return from the study. Aqua orbs shine with curiosity at the hatbox-size container under the older woman's arm.
She sets the box down on a chair, picks up her freshly filled cup, and joins her guest by the dark iron fence. They wait in companionable silence for the maid to finish cleaning, occasionally sharing small glances and smiles...
The young aristocrat wants very much to know what's in the leather case, and can't wait to have the mystery revealed. Her speculations are abruptly interrupted, when she catches Vesselina looking up from her coffee, pensive and nostalgic, at the distant forest. For the briefest of instants, bits of pale foam linger about the corner of her friend's expressive lips, and Michelle finds herself fighting furiously the urge to pull the tall woman towards her. Instead, she watches, helpless and mesmerised, as the faint cream mustache disappears... As eternity ticks by. Tearing her gaze away, the blonde does the only thing she can think of: she buries her own face in her cafe au lait... and completely misses the flash of fond amusement in the green-blue eyes.
Finally, the glass door to the balcony closes, and they are alone again. Fair head snaps up in surprise when Vesselina reaches up and gently takes the cup from her grasp, and sets the saucer on the railing.
Time comes to a stand still as dark head bends forward... Then pale lids flutter close to the tip of a warm tongue brushing lightly across her upper lip. With a brief moment of hesitation, slender fingers move and insinuate themselves through raven tresses; while long arms close about slim body, ending the distance, drawing in... As they deepen their connection, softly and unhurriedly, both women marvel at the wonderful feeling of familiarity, and of peaceful contentment...
Dormant, invisible tendrils awaken, reach out from within and weave themselves in a golden web, carefully binding and sewing together the seams of one soul rent asunder long ago...
The friends ease apart before their breathing quickens, and, remaining in a tender embrace, they grin at each other shyly. Michelle thinks she should say something, but doesn't quite know what... Still she tries, clearing her throat self-consciously and stammering... suddenly exposed under the intense green-blue gaze, and no longer able to conceal what she's feeling for this woman before her. Tipping the flaming cheeks up tenderly, Vesselina silences her with gentle fingers... her eyes closing involuntarily when she feels the responding pressure from warm, sweet lips... And they reach out blindly towards each other again, trying to convey all that which remains unspoken.
Long time passes before, the older woman pulls away once more, "Michelle..." she whispers, drinking in deeply the raging emotions behind blue-green orbs, then gathers the trim body in her arms, and waits...
With her head against her friend's shoulder, the blonde brushes her finger tips across the silver medallion, resting the gentle touch against the portrait. For several moments, the fair blonde immerses in the sweet, pure, intoxicating fragrance of the rose. Finally, letting escape a soft, slightly hysterical chuckle, she speaks, "Weren't you going to show me what's inside the box?"
Smiling, Vesselina takes her hand and guides her back to her chair. She then picks up
the leather case, lays it on the table and sits down beside Michelle. Untying the straps
carefully, and opening the container, she reveals its contents to her friend. Then,
inhaling a deep breath, she begins her story.
==========
==========
>From the beginning of my life
I have been looking for your face
but today I have seen it.
Your fragrant breath
like the morning breeze
has come to the stillness of the garden
you have breathed new life into me
I have become your sunshine
and also your shadow. [16]
----------
The rose bearer! The rose bearer today did come. In three horse drawn carriages he did.
The first two filled with treasures. And through my chamber windows I saw him alight from
the third! Dressed all in red and gold! In his fiery glory, like the Ahura he did look! I
know I shall not be prideful. But I could not help myself. It were truly too beautiful!
And all for me it were!
To present unto thee this rose, M'Lady, I have the honour. And present unto thee I do in
the name of his excellency, Pasha Emil Anastasov, that which betokens of his love. He
said. The rose bearer did! Unto me! In front of my guardian and all his servants. He spake
unto me! His love my betrothed calleth me! For the rest of my days, remember this I shall
always!
Praise Ahura! My God, for Thou exaltest me higher than I deserve. O father! O mother! For
guarding your poor child I thank you. Whencesoever ye are! For delivering her from her
present station accept you please her eternal gratitude.
To think, Pasha Anastasov wanteth me for his bride! A pasha. Son of a boyar. Wanteth me!
The rose. Its heavenly scent so strong. It holdeth me. And holdeth my heart in a trap.
Emil, my lord, my future husband! I can call thee Emil, can I not? I love thee already, I
feel, though yet to meet we have. And to thee my heart full of humility I commit. As well
disgrace will never come from me and unto thee.
O where or when so blissfully happy have I been?
**********
In Life, the warrior and the bard had time and again defended their land, and fought for their people's freedom. In Life, they never once failed in their quest... But, in Elysium, it was a different matter entirely. And the two felt utterly helpless, completely powerless, when first the Persians invaded their homeland, then the Macedonians...
"And the Amazons..." Her partner sighs reflectively as Xena pulls her smaller body onto her lap. The lovers settle into a vacant chair at the table, and watch as their older child tells the story of her ancestry. "I wish we could have done something..." She wistfully whispers. Time and again the pair hoped they could somehow help.
"Yeah, if only we could come back..." The Warrior Princess exhales deeply in agreement. The soulmates knew that not matter what, they would be together in each of their lifetimes, as in their previous ones; this is their Destiny, as the Fates revealed. Unfortunately, returning to Life wasn't an option given to them; and they could only passively observe the savage rape of their people, their home. The couple decided then that they would spend their eternity helping the children of their blood, and protecting them from similar harms. At least that much they have the power to do.
"Maybe that's why we have to stay here," Xena reiterates her theory and shrugs.
Gabrielle nods against her partner's chest, and burrows closer. She and her mate have long ago decided that was one of the possibilities. And as time passes, she stops questioning the gods' intentions, *Just as long as we're together, I don't really care.* But the bard knows that sometimes certain things still bother her warrior, who finds it harder to let go... *Like the time when...*
When her people began adopting Persian ways and customs, even though Greece was the victor in the campaign, the Warrior Princess was more than chagrined. "But they hurt you, my bard." *They almost took you away from me... Again.* "I know, I know..." She kisses her lover softly, forestalling Gabrielle's comments.
*Besides...* Her outlook soon changed when mixed marriages began to take place. Seeing her descendants so happy, that they had enemy blood in them no longer mattered to the warrior... And she loves them no less. *You're right, my bard, love does conquer all.*
*Thanks for proving me right.* Gabrielle smiles, pressing tighter against her beloved, drinking in her partner's kisses. There were times in the past when even she doubted the statement's truth... But somehow they managed; and now they both believe... And a warm comfort expands from the soulmates' heart as their thoughts return to their children here with them...
After the collapse of Amazonia and the eventual disintegration of their tribe, most of their descendants migrated away from their home. Vesselina's ancestors were the last to remain near Thessaly. Each time the region was invaded, the lovers managed to inspire them to move further away, and closer and closer to the Danube. The couple had hoped for them to leave the area altogether, but their children obstinately stayed.
"I still think the Fates have a hand in that!" The bard grins, recalling her warrior's frustrated efforts.
"Well, somebody did," Xena growls, rolling her eyes. Relief for them was only temporarily when the family finally settled in Vidin, the ancient Celtic settlement that was the last city to fall under the Ottoman's rule...
"Ah, but you remember the first time we found her?"
*How could I forget?* She smiles at her partner, capturing the slender hand cupping her cheek, and bringing the palm to her lips, imprinting a series of tender kisses. *She was so young, so innocent... And so much like you when we first met...*
"Nuh-ah! I wasn't that young... And," the bard denies indignantly, "I didn't moon over you so badly," and takes back her hand, ignoring her lover's raised eyebrow. *...Immediately.* She adds, and tips her face towards her mate, the corner of her mouth quirks slightly.
*Well, I certainly was...* Bending forward, the warrior captures the proffered lips, *Over you... hopelessly...*
**********
Didst thou fall in love so soon with thine Emil? She asked, and spake unto me in a
gentle voice, her mouth unmoving. Behold, for to warn thee I am here: Take heed, for
within thy betrothed there are secrets which thou knowst naught. Secrets which thou wilt
find frightful should thou allow you be. And take heed, needst thou not be fearful. Loveth
thee Emil doeth. And cherish thee Emil will like no other.
Many things are there which you never believest exist until when they happen to you. Then
believe ye will without knowing why. I know not. I know not how I feel. In this journal
which beareth the crest of mine ancestors I write my thoughts. I write hoping relieve me
that they would. Yet they do not.
Promise thou me your betrothed wilt thou love. She bade me. Be not afraid. She spake unto
me. Still I am fearful. Something came, something happened. Why? I want to ask. And fright
suddenly doeth consumeth me. And from within me this trembling will not cease.
Then at this likeness of thee I see, my lord. In thine eyes such tenderness towards me I
see. And in thy smile such kindness. And know naught do I but that I love thee.
Yet so afraid am I. O real this cannot be. Like a dream in my mind it doeth seem. Who was
she? May the Gods protect and guide thee. She spake unto me. Was she the powerful Ashi
Vanguhi? Was she the one who is strong, tall-formed, and chariot-riding?
Had it been a fortnight since thy messenger visited? As if only yesterday it doeth seem,
yet too long ago it was. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I go to thee, my lord.
**********
Ava was fourteen summers old when the soulmates found her. Gabrielle remembers the occasion well, and she and her warrior were more than a little surprised, "I still wonder why we couldn't sense her earlier."
"Me, too." Usually they would know the moment a child of their blood is brought into the world. "We missed so many of her years..."
"Yeah..." Blond brows furrowing as the bard recalls the life Ava had under her guardian's roof, "Maybe we could have made things easier..." *How could we not know...*
"Hey..." She gently tucks back the wisps of honeyed silk blown errant by a sudden gust of wind, and feels her own chest tightens. Then released when a golden warmth expands from her beloved's smile.
"I'm happy you had that special bond." Bright orbs capture and glisten at their mates. She still remembers her partner's disappointment at not being with their fair little girl as she grew up... And the extreme joy the warrior felt, that she had shared, when they discovered that Ava could see her dark ancestress.
"That was something, wasn't it?" The pair hadn't in their wildest imaginations expected that level of communication to be possible. *Too bad I couldn't...* Xena stops abruptly and instead reminisces ruefully, "Too bad there hadn't been others."
"Perhaps in the future..." Leaning back, her small hands twine with the larger ones resting about her abdomen, the bard prays, in the form of an assurance, "There'll be others..." She isn't quite ready to revisit those memories either.
"Ever the optimist, my Love?" One half hangs tightly onto the other, one whole willing, keeping whole. Silently, the warrior recognises that which they're struggling to tuck away, and instead acknowledges, *I hope you're right.*
Gabrielle nods slightly, involuntarily closing her eyes as she remembers their young child. While the bard wishes she could share the gift, she's glad her partner was the one who received it. *Always a weakness for blondes, eh?* She looks up to her lover, treating the warrior to a tender smile.
*Only when they look like you.* The dark woman presses her cheek to her soulmate's golden tresses, her strong arms tighten their embrace. Inhaling deeply, Gabrielle settles further into her partner, and tries to lose herself in the more joyous remembrances...
Remembering the times when they visited their young child... And how content she was to simply sit by her beloved, unseen by the girl, and watched the two of them interact. The bard had rejoiced in the happiness that her soulmate felt...
It never mattered to her that their children were of mixed lineage; she loves them all the same... *Even Ava...* Who had somehow kept her ancestors' religion, who sometimes reminded Gabrielle of the child she gave life to and lost. *Though the two were so very different...* the bard recalls, returning the pressure of soft lips suddenly against her earlobe. *Yeah, I'm ok,* she silently assures, *Just wish things turned out differently...*
*I know, Love, I know.* Blue orbs squeeze tight against the onslaught of memories. *Hopefully things will change, will be righted again... Like they did in the past...*
**********
On this day of my espousals, into his house my lord brought me. Behold his voice deep
and tender. He spake, and said unto me: Fear not, my fair one, my love. Let me see thy
sweet countenance. And my veil he lifted from me.
In my own chamber, his right hand embraced me, his left palm gentle on my cheek. Sweet
kisses he kissed me. He kissed me with his tender mouth.
So much better are thy kisses than wine! So strangely I feel when after bidding me
goodnight thou left me. In this strange room thou left me, alone and chaste as the day
onto this world I was born. Doest thou not find me comely? Yet so tender were thy
countenance when thou beheld me. Didst thou say unto me that which were truly in thine
heart?
Thou hast ravished my heart, my lord, my spouse. Thou hast ravished my soul with thine
eyes. Blue like the beautiful Iskur are thine eyes. Like the wings of ravens are thy dark
locks. Thy teeth like a string of even pearls gleaming under the white moonlight. Thy
voice it sootheth my spirit like the low calls of a dove. Broader than the Rila are thy
shoulders. And thy lips! O my lord, thy strong lips my heart consumed!
Bind onto thee as a bride doeth I be, my lord. And I shall not be ashamed that what I feel
towards thee. In this the day of the gladness of my heart.
**********
And night after night, their dark child would visit Ava in her chamber. Sometimes they chatted by the hearth, acquainting each other with stories of their past. On warmer evenings, arm in arm the young couple often strolled about the garden, stealing time for themselves, and occasionally chaste kisses from each other...
The eternal lovers rejoiced as their descendants grew close before their very eyes. They were simply happy that the two met, that Emil had fallen in love with Ava when they did. One of them needed desperately someone to love, the other someone to love her. And as apprehensive as the soulmates were with the tradition of arranged marriages, the warrior and the bard were confident in their children's match.
And for a while, they were pleased that their older one had not hurried the young girl; not that they had expected less from their child. Still, by the end of the moon, Gabrielle and Xena were concerned. It had become rather apparent to them that their descendants shared a bond similar to their own, and that each was deeply in love with the other. While they understood their dark child's anxiety and hesitation, their fair one was beginning to believe the carefully kept distance to be rejection...
And the warrior was about to appear once more before her young child, to assuage her
fears, when the Fates intervened...
==========
==========
you have always been
connected to me
Concealed, revealed
in the known
in the unmanifest
Be with me
I will open
the gate to your love [17]
-----------
Deceived!
O Ahura, my God! Why hast Thou forsaken me?
O father! O mother! Why have you forsaken your child?
Woe is me!
I entered into thine house, and unto thee I swore mine all. But thy favour I wanted
naught. But thy love I asked for naught. Many children I had hoped to bear unto thee. Why
hast thou deceived me?
In the bedchamber of my kindly mother in law I chanced upon my lord. I chanced upon my
lord in an opened shift. Why I went to my mother in law I do not know! What I saw with
mine own eyes I do not want to believe! But it were true! The fear in thine eyes, thy
pallid countenance told me truth were what I saw.
My lord with twin breasts like a woman I saw! Breasts like mine own my lord doeth have! My
lord is my lord but not my lord at all! Why hast thou deceived me? O woe is me!
I hear thy voice knocking on my door. Thy voice moveth still my foolish heart. Open to me,
my dove. Thou sayest. Open to me, my sweet love.
O my God, wherefore art Thou? What willst Thou upon me?
My soul fails when thy deep voice speaketh.
My heart breaks when to thy chamber the heavy door closeth.
Listen, my God, prithee unto me! From my sorrow prithee deliver Thou me!
**********
"What are we going to do?" Gabrielle paced. They had expected Ava to be surprised, which was why Xena went to her and gave her the forewarning.
"I don't know..." She shook her dark head wearily at worn soil before her perch. "We'll figure something out."
"Maybe we should have just told her from the beginning." Her partner swung her staff, which had materialised in her hand just moments before, in the air.
"If we did, she might have called off the joining." Xena removed the tree in front of her lover, and reasoned.
The pacing stilled momentarily, and the bard let out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah... And I still think it best for her to hear from... Emil..." She hesitated, still uncomfortable calling their child by her given name. "Just didn't think it'd be like this..." She groused, recalling the terrible scene involving their children. "Agh! Why do they have to carry on this charade anyway!"
"You know why, Love." The warrior answered patiently; she knew it was a rhetorical question. Emil was the youngest of her mother's children, and the woman thought someone should carry on her husband's family name. The idea didn't make much sense to the lovers, but it made sense to the child's mother, and there was nothing they could do. "And a name is just a name."
"A name is not just a name, Xena!" They had had this conversation many time before. Xena was about to comment when Gabrielle spun around to face her. "Oh no, you don't! We're not going there again!"
She closed her mouth and shrugged helplessly. *Maybe we should have told her earlier...* Dark head reflected. *After the wedding. Then she wouldn't have to find out like this.* Her shoulders sagged. *And maybe they would both...*
"You couldn't have known, Xe." The staff disappeared and the fair blonde turned to her soulmate with infinite tenderness. "Can't blame yourself for something you have no control over." And she winced at sudden jab she felt in her chest, in response to her partner's pain.
This was not the first time they found themselves helpless; there had been many other occasions. *Like...* She couldn't continue, recalling the moment they discovered the fate their own child had chosen for herself in this incarnation.
*Gabrielle?*
"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier..."
"It's ok."
Feeling the golden warmth from her soulmate, the bard lifted her gaze from the trampled grass, smiled at her partner bravely, and resumed her track. "So, what are we going to do?" She asked softly. "With them both?" And added with regret, after extending her sight, and seeing their older child's distress.
"With Emil, I really don't know." The warrior signed. Neither of them had any connection with her. "Hopefully we won't have to worry too much about it."
"I hope you're right." Gabrielle met her partner's gaze and conjured up a weak smile.
*If we could only convince Ava...* At the moment, their children were both consumed by fear: one of love, the other of rejection. *A cure for the first would definitely...* She surmised. "Ow!" The bard stopped and rubbed her nose against her lover's chest. "Wha...? How? When did you..."
*You were making me dizzy.* The taller woman grinned against the no longer spluttering lips, and welcomed her partner into her arms. *Don't worry about it, Love,* the warrior assured her soulmate, though herself somewhat alarmed that she was able to catch her mate off guard. *I'll go and talk to Ava again.*
*You will?*
*Mmm... Coming with me?*
*Of course! Kidding me?* The bard pulled away slightly and placed a kiss above her beloved's heart. *'Sides, wherever you go...*
She smiled brightly, suddenly feeling confident. "Things will all work out, you'll see," she promised and captured her soulmate's lips once more. *Think I've learnt a thing or two about love.*
**********
Trust in thine heart, my child. Fret not. She heard my cry and appeared, and spake unto
me. Rebuke thy spouse not in thy wrath. For thine arrows stick fast in her and wound her.
Let not the foot of fear come betwixt you. Delight thyself in thy love, and thou shalt
have the desire of thy desires. She said unto me.
Art Thou a servant of my God? I dared not ask. Whomsoever Thou art, I trust in Thee.
Telleth me my soul that I can. All my wants are before Thee. Be merciful unto me, as I put
my trust under the shadow of Thy wings.
O God my God, wilt Thou not hear my prayers?
Ever wilt Thou forgive the frailty of my heart?
**********
"You think she's going to listen?" Gabrielle asked, sitting in her partner's lap. She felt a tinge of relief after witnessing Ava's reaction, and she was anxious to find out what she would do next.
The bard expelled a held breath slowly, her spirits lifted somewhat by the interaction between her mate and their young child. She was still worried, but was also very proud of her warrior, who never did learn to like sensitive chats.
"I hope so," Xena brushed the back of her hand gently against her soulmate's cheek. It hurt her deeply to see both of them in pain. "Hey, maybe she inherited your trait..." She suggested playfully, willing the tension within the small, firm body to go away.
"And what trait is that?" Pink lips quirked, and heather green eyes gleamed in challenge.
*Is that the beginning of a smile I see?* The warrior's own expanded to match its mate. "That you find me irresistible," she made known clearly; her bright cerulean gaze dropped to her chest, "See how you can't keep your hands off of me?"
The bard let go of the lacings she was unconsciously tugging on, and narrowed her eyes at her soulmate's waggling brow. "Let's just see who can't keep whose hand off of whom!" She demanded, trying hard to hide the growing smile.
"Uh-huh..." The Warrior Princess smirked, relaxing, as she felt the tense muscles against her palms did.
"Really..." Gabrielle responded by sending her soulmate teasing messages of her own.
Seeing the mischievous glint in her mate's finally clear verdant orbs, the now brilliant smile, Xena accepted, "OK you win." Some things hadn't changed even in Elysium, she hated losing, but this was one surrender she didn't mind.
And a soft, surprised gasp escaped the fair bard's lips when the barriers between them disappeared in a flash, and she found herself being swept away in her lover's embrace.
**********
I sought in her bed my spouse whom my soul loveth. I held her, like the night my mother
conceived me. And she lay all night betwixt my breasts.
Tender, tender was the night.
O thou whom my soul loveth! That trembling kiss I shall never forget! On our lips our
souls did meet. Then thou drew, with one long kiss, my soul through my lips! And with
thine own it doeth wed!
O thou whom my heart seeketh! That trembling touch I shall never forget! Soft honeyed seal
of affections thy touches were. Tenderest pledge of future bliss! And in both our hearts
did rapture fill. In thine arms I died and died again!
Friyana. Friyana henceforth I shall call thee my love.
My beloved is mine, and I am hers.
**********
"You did it!"
"We did," she corrected. It had been too long since she saw her soulmate so genuinely happy. "Couldn't have done it without you, my bard." Xena was simply relieved that they had one less thing to worry about.
"Did you hear what she named her?" The bard exclaimed with excited glee.
"Yes, I was there, too," the warrior smiled indulgently, *Right by your side,* and hugged her lover close, "Remember?" She had to admit it was very sweet of Ava to give her spouse a name in Farsi.
"I heard that!" Her mate beamed.
"Heard what?" She grinned feebly. *Gee, how many centuries now? Keep forgetting that!* But Xena craved their shared connection, and couldn't imagine ever without it.
*You know what,* Gabrielle snorted. "It IS very sweet, isn't it? For her to call her 'Beloved'?"
"Uh-huh," the warrior agreed, and taunted, "And makes it easier for you to refer to her by name..."
"Hrmph."
She wrapped her arms about her partner's waist, ducked her head forward and whispered, "In my book, 'Gabrielle' means the same thing."
"Really?" She drew the long arms closer about herself and snuggled in.
"Really."
The eternal couple watched over their children as their love matured. Occasionally, Xena would appear before Ava with Gabrielle beside her; but most of the time, they delighted in simply watching them from afar, sharing their joy.
As seasons passed, their fair child turned into a confident young woman, and reminded the warrior of her mate when they first met. Friyana, who was almost ten years Ava's senior, adored her and with clear devotion. They loved each other deeply; and their ancestresses rejoiced in their fast bond.
And those outside the family, those not privy to their secret, celebrated the couple's blessed marriage. In their eyes, the young Pasha and his wife made the most perfect, enviable pair. And many beautiful children they wished the couple would have.
And all was blissful and well for the first three Summers of their union...
In the fourth, the unexpected happened: when extending their sight, the immortal lovers found their fair child fearful and in tears. She was even more distraught than on the fateful day when she chanced upon her spouse's true self...
Deeply concerned, the warrior and the bard returned once again to their young one...