"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
As quickly as Ea’s soul had formed in front of her -- her fox soft and small, quiet and quick -- it had been ripped away from her. She and Sela had both mourned the loss of their friends; Sela more dramatically than Ea, of course, but it was painful for them both. Ea had committed herself to the Dale largely as a way to prove her love to Ramiel without withering in front of him, but he soon grew more distant. They slept next to each other, most nights, and he loved their children and her swelling belly but she knew it felt different between them and this, in turn, made her even more distant. Perhaps, she thought, it was due to the loss of his vulture; though she knew he had never been as close with his spirit as Weir or Phaedrus. Perhaps it was something else.
So she protected herself, as she always had.
Her children were elsewhere today. They often stuck together, now, Kha looking over Sela as though he were the older brother. He acted like it, too; while she was rambunctious and loud, playful, he was quiet and solemn and stoic. As little as Sela was like her parents, Kha was the perfect blend of them. Of all the sad parts of them. Sometimes it was difficult for Ea to see it in him -- while her mother had largely made her this way, she never wanted the same for her children. She’d hoped she was a better mother as she watched Sela grew, but Kha made her think that maybe she was no better than anyone else.
She could only hope that she would be a good queen. Maybe she wasn’t a queen of the people -- she had never been sweet or personable -- but she was smart, and smart enough to listen to those who were smarter than her.
Ea came to a stop in the middle of the kingdom where she had been crowned only three short years ago. It was quiet, still. Though she had seen new faces in passing, the kingdom had been in quiet mourning since the flood of the Deserts and the loss of their souls. Quickly, her eyes searched for Ramiel or her children, but found none of them. She let out a call -- loud, authoritative -- for anyone who remained.
“Hello, all,” she said, once they gathered. “I’m so happy to see new faces. I hope you’ll all introduce yourselves to me. I know this loss has been difficult for all of us, and the flood of the Deserts has made all of us uneasy,” Ea pauses to look out to them. “But we must continue while we are here. I’d like to hear from all of you -- do you have any ideas? Our plan was to align ourselves with the Deserts. I’d like to visit the Jungle and the Falls to see where we stand, though I don’t expect a change. Anyone is welcome to come. If you are new here, please let Ramiel and I know if there’s a particular caste you’d like to join. Or if you have any questions.”
Zara had not seen Phaedrus or Besra in some time, it grew rather lonely in the Golden Plains. She has attempted to make friends in the herd but the mares preferred to be alone. In a way it was okay as she got to watch her daughter grow and dedicate herself to the kingdom more. It has been a devastating time, it seemed like just yesterday she had her wolf friend Zaphod but he was ripped from her clutch like the rest of the Dale horses. Everyone was taking it hard, and Zara did not see why the faeries could be so cruel to take there friends, but there was nothing they could do now.
The ebony mare was passing through the Dale on her way to the field but she stopped when the call of Ea rang through her ears. She has not personally spoken with the queen but was aware of her and the family Ramiel and her had. The dale has been slim in numbers, she can't recall the last time she saw Ramiel so it was odd that Ea was calling the meeting, she could only hope it was not more bad news.
She gracefully made her way to the calling, where she found the beautiful queen standing alone. It was a sad sight to see, the king wasn't around, she gave a dip of her head to the queen and found a spot below awaiting the rest of the kingdom.
Eventually they all appeared and yet again equines she did not know were apart of the kingdom appeared from hiding. Her attention flicked from the crowd to the queen when she spoke, she gave a greeting and Zara allowed a gentle whinny to part her lips in return. The queen talked so softly, she was welcoming of the new members and Zara could not help but smile. The queen than speaks of the desert, the changes in Beqanna created an uproar like never seen before. All the kingdoms scrambled trying to recover from the magic powers being ripped away right in front of them.
The queen asked if anyone had any ideas, ensuring the alliances still stood and possibly making more. She was not well known in the kingdom, that she was aware of, but she hoped that she could offer service for the Dale. I will go to the Falls and ensure our alliance still stands Zara offered, willing and hopeful the Falls was capable of the alliance still. Also, I have heard the Tundra is growing in numbers very quickly, perhaps we could attempt to create an alliance with them? her eldest daughter joined the Tundra and she had nothing but lovely things to say about them. It would be wise to get an alliance with them before the other kingdoms rushed to the Tundra as well in search of an alliance.
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING OF MOVING ON
He never leaves, not really, but the years quickly pass in which he is lost from contact. It’s how he is as though the heavens aren’t quite convinced to allow complete passage into the world of mortals. It holds onto him, tethering him to an ethereal state that separates him from those he loves most. There are many days that he tries to escape and to find himself whole in the Dale again, but when he is away there is also solace. Despite always loving his children Tiphon couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps there is a shadow following him; why else would all his youngest children possess traits of his father. They are all marked by death and chaos.
A chill slithers down his back as he materializes from afar.
Like his father and grandfather before him, Tiphon always comes back. A battle of earth and sky ensued but he is here, standing in the tall grass of the Dale. Last he was here the twins and Elaria were born and Ea was welcomed as Queen and cohort to his son. My, how so much has already changed. Ea is stepping into her role more confidently, her eyes pressing deeply into her peers and advising them of plans and recent happenings. Tiphon listens closely with his eyes cast down and the distance between them dissipating. The Deserts is gone. There are kingdoms to see. There is the Dale to protect and uphold. Unable to contain himself, he settles at Zaravich’s side and peers up at the young queen with a lopsided grin across his lips. ”Send me or do with me what you will,” there is always something to be done in a kingdom.
With a placid breath drawn into his lungs Tiphon glances sideways and quietly searches for his son.
The cyclical nature of his life ends when she comes alive.
For the first time, the passage of time does not guide his every move. He does not look to the browning trees and make plans for when they will be green once more. He does not turn his eyes to the north in anticipation of the snow to come, does not make for the meadow or field before the trek becomes less than desirable. He does not acknowledge the consequences when he presses his lips to her shoulder. He does not wonder what his family will think if their passion becomes fruitful.
When he says her name, hushed despite hurried lips, he loses more than his breath.
And by the time spring does arrive with its resplendent shades of green coloring the valley, Ramiel still struggles against the cold hands of winter. Fingers press into him from all sides, dead and so very cold. He can feel them digging into the pit of his stomach when he looks at his children, can feel them counting each and every vertebrae on their way to his head when he tries to meet Ea’s gaze. When they pass each other, he wonders if she can feel the ice seeping through his skin. When they sleep together at night, he puts distance between them. Sometimes, it’s a forest’s width. He slinks into the darkness of the trees like a wildcat, like he belongs there.
His black light illuminates the way.
But as love ruins him, it also redeems him. It makes his feet stay when he imagines how easy it would be to leave. He could disappear (could put life behind him and trade in for death, for the greying of himself, the others, the beach). He could pull Gail with him to the Other Side and conceal her swollen belly (could hide the way his eyes spark like hammered metal when she is near). But he loves Ea. Perhaps not in the same way - the impossible, inevitable love of a boy who learned he wanted to be a hero – but in a way that is all theirs’. Not even the mountains lit by a soft morning can compare to her elusive smile. The glint of the river after a long journey, the caress of the water eddying around tired legs - neither can match her rejuvenating touch. He is complete when he is at Ea’s side. She makes him a man, reminds him that men are fallible creatures compared to the strength of a woman.
He loves her. He loves her.
But he can see what one love is doing to him.
Ramiel meets his father’s searching gaze when he finally approaches. There have always been questions clouding his golden eyes when he looks at his sire. Today, he imagines it is reciprocated. But there is no time to explain (there is never enough of it; Death waits for no one). Because his queen is standing there, atop the knoll where they had both been made guardians of the Dale. Because she looks strained but so strong, the rock he’s wrongfully tried to chisel all of these years. I’m sorry, he wants to say, but doesn’t. I love you, he thinks but doesn’t voice aloud. Instead, he moves beside her to the place he doesn’t deserve; the chill follows him and settles between them.
“Thank you Zaravich,” he says to the black mare when she volunteers to visit the Falls. As for the Tundra, “perhaps you and Tiphon could journey together to feel them out, if nothing else. We will need to determine where the Jungle stands with them before pursuing a formal alliance.” He tilts his head thoughtfully as he says it. Truly, he isn’t sure what to think of the north’s growth; they have been quiet for so long that it is hard to know how to categorize the icy kingdom in the grand scheme of Beqanna. Only time will tell where their loyalties lie. Ramiel’s have always been with the Jungle. The Sisterhood has never given them a reason to sever their ties, but they should at least determine their hold with Lagertha gone. “Father, if you’d visit the Jungle as well? I can go with you.”
He takes a deep breath, counts to thirteen.
“I know we have all known a deep, aching loss as of late. I know it seems like the world only takes: the war, the Deserts, our souls.” Even he misses the shadow of his vulture racing him across the grounds, the knowledge that he was never alone. The ghost-king had watched Weir and Eira and their beautiful family retreat months ago; he couldn’t stop his friend, knowing how much more affected he was by the loss. Ramiel glances sideways at his silvered mate. Just as she was softening without even realizing it - drinking from the pool and planting roots firmly in the Dale, for him – her efforts seem wasted. “But it hasn’t taken our hearts. It hasn’t pushed us to our knees. We are still a family, small in number but large in heart.” He finds Tiphon’s eyes, find’s his mother’s as she steps up beside the angel. “I am honored to have been entrusted this kingdom for thirteen years. But every new season means the end of the old. Every life comes at the inevitable cost of death. This is the end of my reign, but not my love for the Dale.”
The greyed once-king steps down from the knoll, joining the others gathered below it. He immerses himself in his family – blood and friend – and knows it is where he is meant to be. How much has he missed with the weight of the crown pinning him down? How quickly have his children grown before his eyes, before he could spend days on end chasing them, teaching them, adoring them. How much of a stranger his father and mother (his siblings, his friends) have become over the long years of his tenure. He looks to Ea (wants to bury his nose in the wild tangle of her mane, to talk until dawn under stars strung up between the mountains), wondering how he could have almost made her a stranger, too. He knows that he will give her everything, now. She will be his keeper, his queen. And he will support her until his dying breath.
Ea
