One packs light when planning on moving between worlds. It isn't that they charge you for overweight luggage, but what do you pack to go to a fairy kingdom? Everything she might need is already there...
It's karmic weight that has to be assayed...
Fiona's been preparing for this for a good couple of weeks now, even if she hasn't told anyone. Her accountants and stockbrokers have been given standing orders; her parents have only been told that she's going away on a business retreat and may not get the chance to check messages. Even her mother can't really find fault with that, though everyone knows she's tried. And what of the men in her life?
What indeed...
A message is left after the close of the ordinary workday, just at the start of the rush hour, on Rhodri's home telephone. A simple message - 'Hey, it's me. Going off on my trip now. I'll check in when I can - don't worry about me. Love you.' Informative and reassuring, isn't it?
For Davydd, there is something else to be done - a series of nine boxes, each about 36 inches long by 18 inches wide, wrapped in white paper imprinted with cherry blossoms is left stacked on the dining room table where they can't possibly be missed, along with an envelope. The boxes are identical, each containing a varnished wooden model boat with a pointed stern and white sails that can be raised and locked into position. There is a flat, open deck to each, a metal piece affixed with three prongs and a white candle stuck onto the prongs. The envelope contains a brief letter :
Dear Davydd,
I'm heading off on that trip I mentioned. I never did get you down to the river for anything but more pursuits pastoral, and it seemed to me that it might take too many boats to do everyone and everything important to you. Instead, I had these made - one for every hundred. Rounding up, of course, Old Man...
Anyway, I still do love you - as if I could stop now - and I'll see you when I get back. Stay out of trouble, or at least don't get into any you can't get out of.
- F.
Everything is in order; everything is in place. Well - except for herself. It's as Drancy that she steps out of her flat, a fuchsia-haired punk who locks up the door behind her and heads down the stairs in worn jeans and a purple t-shirt, black Docs on her feet and a battered leather jacket slung onto her shoulders. The fuchsia head bobs inside headphones as the booted feet clatter towards a certain tree with a metal ring around it. "Into this world that I create, your love for me has sealed your fate..."
The sun is dying away, all but hidden from London as it often is anyway. Neon is taking over, and traffic is again settling into the dinner hour. There's only the briefest glance given around to watch out for prying eyes, and then Fiona halts, a faint smile on her face as she looks at the tree. "It just seemed fitting," she says aloud. She closes her eyes, taking a step forward and reaching ahead of her not with her hands but with her Self, for those invisible threads that connect her ... somewhere Else ...
Knowing that her guise will be stripped away in the process is no bar to reaching, not anymore. The disguise is voluntary, now...
Right off the Strand in London, a crown prince is pouring another Guinness, talking about retiring to Gwynedd, where all decent people belong. Get in some quality fishing, Kelly says, let the kids worry about the bar for a change. Yes, yes, the girls are staying. But me, lads, I'll be off for smooth lakes, late sleeping, and not worrying about you lot...
A man rolled out of a bed in small apartment over an Indian restaurant. Finding nine boxes, he smiled, raked a hand through short hair and cackled when he opened them. He was going to opt for a shower, but he's changed his mind now. Before he goes, he's going to have a bath...
There are worlds within worlds, each one of them filled with their own beauty and their own treachery. There are smooth ways, and rough ways and some that lose their way altogether. Will you know your land when you see it?
Apple blossoms fill the trees that are also full of fruit. Nowhere on earth could this occur. There are meadows of grass that has turned yellow as if by autumn, but at their base they are as green and lush as the Spring itself. Streams run full and fast, the rivers course slow and meandering...
She has so often lost her way and in the losing of it, found it anew. There is no way to be lost save that she chooses to be lost, and that is and has been and will be her creed. Fiona pulls through the skin of one world and to another, feeling rather than seeing colour leech from her hair, the locks lengthen in tumbling heavy coils down past shoulders, down past hips. Leather fades away as does denim, from human cloth to pale white tinctured with sky blue, a palimpsis of the summer morning's sky, scraped down to only a memory. The gown is kirtled in with a golden chain, and around her throat is another golden chain, suspended from which is the rose cluster of diamonds in floral tribute. On her hand, on her ring finger, an emerald; on the other, an old but distinctly earthly ruby. There are representations as well as presentations...
Not a word but a suggestion of a word causes the long locks to bind themselves back into elaboration, small braids hung with crystals and bells gathering to hold back the tumult of the main mass. There are slippers on her feet, flat and sleek and conforming to the shape of her feet. It is comfortable and still elegant - and altogether unearthly, made moreso by the contrasts inherent in her. Here, she is all that she Is, where in London she is more than she appears.
There is a slow turn as she looks around, and Fiona takes three steps forward from where she has appeared. "I have arrived," she says simply, as if expecting the air, the sky, the water, the trees, the very earth to be listening, waiting for the sound of her voice. And then she pauses, waiting, an air of patient expectation about her countenance...
To speak to the air here is to think in your own head, to speak to yourself. But others can, indeed, hear you. Overhead, it is not a cloudless sky. Not by any imagination every born or created may such a thing have been conceived but by them all together. A citadel of clouds and a kingdom of clouds overhangs but yet does not block the sun that shines here.
From the North a blustery winter wind comes, its breath visible upon everything, even your cheeks, as it greets you. But it dissolves (and with it its frost) the next moment with the arrival of the Eastern Wind of Spring. Now, a blush and a flush of summer -- you recognize that feeling, do you not, lover of the Oak King to be? -- as a wind rises from the south, blowing leaves in its whirlwinds. Finally, the West Wind speaking as it does of the change of seasons, of autumn, the herald of brother winter.
When all winds fall to calm skies once more, you are surrounded by four... oh yes, four...beauteous princes. The Prince of the West Wind you know, Hwyll there in his thunderous silvers, long hair unbound, a cloak of clouds streaming from his shoulders -- clouds which are, in fact, part of the great empire you see above your kingdom. There with him, golden summer South Wind, in his bronzes and coppers, his red hair so reminiscent of your dual husbands, longish and wind-whipped, his eyes are golden as his winds are warm, his flowing cloak of sunlight. To the East, the Prince of the East Winds, in his greens and yellows, flowers in his windswept golden hair and trailing behind him in a cloak of daisies and bees, braided and twined with glittering beads. And lastly, the Prince of the North Wind, his hair white-blonde, his eyes ice-blue, his face forever frosted white, his breath forever misting before him, his armor of impenetrable ice and steel, with blowing snow as his cloak.
"We the Princes of the Winds greet you," they speak in unison, assaulting you with all the weather of the world at once. They kneel one by one speaking their names:
"I am Auster," the fiery wind speaks, "... Prince of the South Winds. I am at your service, Queen of Hope, to bring to your ports the spices and silks that travel my domains..."
"I am Boreas," the frosty one speaks, "...Prince of the North Winds. I am at your service, Queen of Strength, to bring to your ports the wools, the meats and metals you shall require..."
"I am Eurus," smiles the ones with the flowers and the bees, "... Queen of New Beginnings. I bring to you the honey of Tyrian bees, most prized possessions, discovering souls, and the finest of all treasures."
"I have been called many things," Hwyll notes as he moves forward, "...in the kingdoms of the Fair Folk. I am also known as Zephyr, Prince of the West Winds. As Viceroy, I have brought you the winds for your trade and prosperity, to be rewarded as discussed. Overhead, note the great kingdom of clouds," Hwyll smiles. "Overhead, a thousand maidens waiting to attend you." He winks. "And my brothers. I'm not stingy when it comes to family."
She stands under the sudden assault upon senses and sensibilities alike; no scowl comes to be worth mentioning, though there is the natural blink that pale golden lashes make to protect the vivid and swirling blues and greens and greys of her irises. As changing and startling as they are in London's light, here everything is that much More, so increased in intensity. She waits patiently, allowing the natural course of things to flow.
It isn't the first time she's been surrounded by handsome faerie men, and the thought makes the corners of her mouth tug for a moment; it isn't something she'd say aloud, certainly not on such ... brief acquaintance. Not even to you, Hwyll - it might give you ideas.
Introductions are performed, one after another, and she turns to each in acknowledgment. Each receives the fullness of her attention for the length of that introduction, hands folded genteelly together in front of her as she listens, and then she speaks.
"I thank you for your pledges, my Princes four. You do me honour by accepting such alliance with me, and I shall not neglect to ensure that all honour due does return to you." It is unrehearsed, as how could it be anything but? Yet her voice is calm and steady, confident in the assurances she gives. "I am Fiona, descendant and heir of Isabel, Queen of the Seven Towers. I have come as I have given my word, to meet with you and those others who have come to my banner, to plan, to learn, and to build."
She turns then with a glance to Hwyll in particular, and a slanting, sidelong smile is offered. "And, for you, my Viceroy, I have particular news, of a celebration to which I am bid come in but a few weeks' time, when the moon is again full. I will indeed require some suitable attendants. But we may speak more of it later. I am sure that you must have much to speak with me of," the words are again offered generally, "questions you would ask, and information sought and given..."
"My brothers and I have been discussing some... angles," he folds his arms against his chest as he and his cloud cloak come forward, "...for trade. We feel that working together," for once, "... we will all benefit far more greatly. You will pardon them, of course, if they don't speak much. Eurus, in particular, is not much fond of ... business transactions."
If you look past Zephyr's (Hwyll's) shoulders you'll notice Eurus is paying attention to a roseate-skinned, barely clothed, flower nymph. Yes, it appears to be a family trait.
"To be quite frank, it bores them... I'll handle it from here, brothers... ceremony's over. Tell Daphnis that I shall return to her as soon as possible," he mutters to Auster (South Wind) as he passes with a smile.
"Mmm... I am sure that your name will come up, Zeph... your majesty... we will meet with you soon, I trust. For now, we take our leave... we ... have a banquet to return to..."
"The party never stops," Boreas seems to sigh, the far more serious of the four, he seems exasperated by it. "I hope we will have more of your time soon, your majesty. I look forward to a profitable relationship..." Snow bursts in a whirlpool of frost and is gone. Eurus and Auster also, with giggling female laughter trailing them.
"So, you have news of celebration? Perhaps we should speak first of this before I head into the more by-numbers report on where we stand," Hwyll (Zephyr) says as he comes alongside you. "And if you haven't guessed by now... not everyone who serves in the kingdoms of the Fair Folk are truly ... well... fairy. The world is bigger even than that!" he laughs.
There is a faint tug of lips again, hands still folded together as she witnesses sibling similarities and disparities alike. Fiona pays them due respect as they move and then depart, and then she turns to address the one remaining. "I had rather gathered that, considering Huw's nature. And yes, we should speak of it, as it is a piece of news which has some rather ... large implications."
She begins to walk, not quickly, but as if feeling the earth underfoot with her movements, testing her action and reaction, and the land's acceptance of her - or its lack. "There is to be an ... event in Avalon at the end of this month, when the moon has again become full. I have been most specifically requested to attend, and to this I have agreed. As well, there shall be an announcement at the end of this event."
Fiona turns, the corners of her mouth irrepressible in their turning up at the corners, though she steadies herself as she halts. Energy ripples outwards, words halted as she does. But communication does not halt, no; instead, she reaches to plant the words in your mind as she faces you.
It would be an ill thing for everyone to know before the event, so I tell you this in privacy, just in case. The event to take place is a coronation. Rhodri ap Davydd is now the Holly King's heir, crown prince of Avalon. I am ... high in their esteem. I would like to surprise them not by my arrival, as I am expected, but by the grandness of my arrival...
So the Oak King is as he should be, the son of the former. How very druidic of them. Well, that's that then. Order shall be restored. The Holly King's domain has been very active of late. Tendril vines trailing all the way to the material plane. As if he is anchoring himself to it as I am anchoring my cloud kingdom to yours. Well, what would you like? An elephant procession?
Hwyll offers his arm to you as he walks wherever you would have the two of you go. It is your kingdom after all, it is yours to call. "So you see I have delivered the four winds to you. I had to promise a lot to do it," he widens his eyes. "It cost me half a harem to Auster alone. Do you know what it's like losing half a harem? Hmmm... I suppose you wouldn't..."
You would not want it so grand as to take away from the Moment, hmm? Of the king that is crowned. You will have to be gorgeous but subtle...
"I am sure that we will be able to make profit enough that you will woo even more lovely maidens to your harem, to the point where Auster is jealous," Fiona says lightly, accepting your arm. She is feeling her way, her senses expanding outwards to ripple through her domain, stopping just short of the borders where the woods of the Holly King and the rolling hills of Avalon meet her kingdom. "You are, after all, a prince - and a viceroy."
Elephants are too loud, too large and too messy. I think, rather, half a dozen women who I am just a little prettier than, and a couple of train-bearers. Possibly a minor honour guard, possibly not; I look forward to your thoughts on the matter. And how literally it is your thoughts, is it not? Fiona pauses to examine the scenery, the apple blossoms that are torn by the passage of Winds to fall on the surface of swollen waters, carried away off to sea.
"I need to go to where the land meets the sea." Fiona states it as a matter of course. "That is where my city will be. It is where one of Isabel's towers ought to be as well. The tower will remain empty until it has been examined for any traces of my ancestress's killers; I have no desire to follow her example in that regard. But I have glimpsed my city, and I know how it must be put together."
I will not wish to take from Rhodri's moment in the sun. He will have many, of course. However, I must look worthy as well, for after the ceremony, my betrothal to him shall be announced. There is an undertone, a glint of wicked mirth as she informs you of this. What woman can fail to be smug under such circumstances? Fiona lifts her hand to smooth back one crystal-laden braid, allowing light to glint from the emerald upon her finger, holding her hand poised there for your examination. The Holly King knows. I did inform him, and we have ... come to agreement, we three.
Sounds kinky. Queen or not, Viceroy or not, his humor is ...his humor. So...let's see... rather hard to find plain fairy girls. I'm not sure they make them. Quite frankly, I'm not sure there's such a thing as a plain girl. There are plump ones, and skinny ones, curvy ones and flat ones, but they are all girls and therefore beautiful. It is like asking ... to find an ugly flower. Not possible, your majesty. I suggest... I suggest that you come as yourself, you the queen, upon a white stag, led to him like a sunlit prize. Not by a maiden, but by your guard. Come to him as a warrioress queen, sitting astride the beast of Inspiration. The White Stag. Now that would be sensational.
"Ah, where the land meets the sea of seas, yes, follow me..." Hwyll holds your arm in his arm, his other hand resting upon you as he leads you to the southwest. "You will have to construct a mighty port as well, there will be many ships, your majesty."
And... yes... a few more ... how shall we say inconspicuous girls holding your train of flowers and silks, only their fingers truly visible. You will stand out, without having to pick plain girls to attend you. Besides, it is the radiant, the beautiful queen who surrounds herself with beautiful maidens who is held to be the most radiant of all...
"So, my report. First, I have brought you the alliance of the winds and promise of increased trade. Trade routes will still need to be negotiated, but I feel that we can make your port a destination desired, that trade routes will want to take part in it. Second, I have anchored my empire of clouds to your kingdom. My maidens and retinue will serve you, your kingdom first filled with our nymphs and their orisons." He smiles to you. "I have spoken with Huw, he has assembled a core group of commanders, but has been working primarily on securing a... personal guard for you, your majesty."
Do I ask you about your sex life? Not that she's ever had to. You volunteer the information as cheerfully as if it were the time of day. But very well, I will take your suggestion under consideration. I have already decided on what to wear, and that is usually the most difficult part. Fiona is not without a sense of humour, these days. One hand does, however, creep up to touch the diamonds at her throat with a fond, momentarily wistful smile. A hundred years is a very long time, sometimes.
She permits herself to be led to the southwest, speaking aloud in response to your spoken words. "The port shall be constructed," Fiona agrees, "as will the city. But first I must put my feet upon it." There are bluebells in her wake to suit her mood; a carpet of bluebells and honeysuckle and twining vines, the absentness of sweet thoughts made tangible in her wake. "I will set up the port while I am here, and possibly more as well. I wish while I am here to build links of myself - invest myself here as much as I am there," there being London, "so that you have something more to work with. I know that at present what you do must seem very much a risk and a long shot. I have no desire for either of us to do anything but succeed, you know."
She shades her eyes, tipping her head back to look upwards at your kingdom, then back to the direction in which you lead her, casting her glance for the first sign of light glittering off of breaking waves. There have been signs and visions. I do not know what will be, not yet, and not for certain, but I know what may be - what I choose to work towards. I will need to walk along my borders, and I will need to cross over at one point into the Holly King's domain. But first, I wish to meet with Huw and these commanders, and be introduced around - I hope, by the way, that I did handle your brothers acceptably. It is hard to say what others might expect Isabel's heir to be, so I will be myself, even if not quite so prickly...
Fiona's smile is briefly brilliant as she glances to you and then away. She is happy, and that is in and of itself enough to amuse her. It is so strange. "I shall attempt to pleasantly surprise you and Huw both, without alarming you."
"My brothers aren't much for ceremony," Hwyll notes. "We're old, the winds. And ever-changing. And yet constant. We are strange creatures. But... as I said, not really big on ceremony. Tricking young women into grabbing our knobs is about as ceremonial as it gets." A wink for the reminder. "We are, however, very much into banqueting, profit, storms and desire. I think you did well."
Well, the vision is the first step, yes? We should talk about this more, your vision, these snippets that you have seen, that I may help you realize them. That being my chief employment now. Not that I've announced it. As far as the rest may know, I am merely taking advantage of an empty kingdom and paying homage to the spirit of a former lover. Isabel. She of the many lovers.
"You should meet with Huw and your commanders. We can speak of the vision over dinner? A banquet, yes. We can have sweet meats and breads and cakes, wine and mead and sit on cushions. We simply must have pillows..."
"Of course not." Fiona rolls her eyes at the reminder, though it's a good-natured expression. She is still amused rather than put off. "I think that I can promise banquets, and I am fairly sure that I can promise profits. I am glad, though, that it meets your approval."
Several visions - not just mine, but yes. I suspect once my betrothal is announced, there will be a new surge of interest in this ... empty kingdom. I wish it prepared for life and vitality before then. I will do my best to keep you busy - but not so busy that you have no time to enjoy what fruits life brings. Fiona smiles slightly, then dips her head in acknowledgment. I think that it would be as well for me to erect a tribute to Isabel, as well, on a point overlooking the sea. It will show that she is not forgotten, and that I appreciate what she has given me.
Even if the two never actually met, as such...
"I would be delighted to meet with Huw and the rest. Shall we do so now? And then I will examine the lay of the land, and see what it is I must do, and turn my efforts to it. Such matters will go more smoothly if I have eaten." Fiona glances sidelong. "Hwyll, I have never in the time I've seen you failed to find pillows where you're in residence. I'm sure there will be plenty of pillows."
"Good, we will have tea and scones and discuss. Later. For now, I should turn you over to your generals, have you meet your personal staff. Then we should go up to my cloud citadel so that you might pick out your personal handmaidens I told them you were a Queen with her own mind and does not simply take what a man has to say as law. That tickled them more than it should have," he smirks at the notion. "But what am I to say?"
The smell of salt and water. The sea is not far away now, though it does not seem as though you have walked far. But it has been farther than you realized. You have traveled far with the wind as your guide. What is that proverb about may the wind always be at your back? It is true...
Ahead there are the cliffs, wondrous things, the dipping gulls, the water of shifting aquamarine and gold (reflected sun). I envision a citadel that is part of the coast, spreading the width of this bowl here. Hwyll gestures to where the coast bowls in a crescent to welcome the sea. With great windows to give a jeweled face to those who come here. To extend thus side to side to be like great and beautiful arms opening for them. Come to me, it would say, and to my embrace...
Hwyll looks to you and then gestures to the left, to the west. Here, you would be situated between East and West. Facing the south for the better winds. Ah, and there is Huw...
Huw is there, to the west where Hwyll has gestured. He is there, looking quite the Satyr, cloven hooves and all, with his curved horns, and his robes and cloaks. Behind him, other creatures of fantasy. Men who appear to be loitering near their horses.
Wait a minute! Those men are the horses...
And one in particular is coming with Huw, a young-faced golden thing. Golden Palomino become the gold-skinned torso of a man...well, what of his skin may be seen for he wears a breastplate, highly decorated, with bracers on each arm.
"Most women do not take what men say as immutable law. We simply allow you to think that we do, and change your mind in the ways that please us best." Fiona looks ahead, breathing deeply of the salt with a small smile. "I just am inclined to fight more openly than most. But then, the men I've chosen to associate with like that in me."
There will be a palace, of course. One with internal gardens and winding staircases and a courtyard with fountains that flow. But above the bowl, not meshing with it, I think - better that the port itself be given to the bowl, so that trade may flourish the better. Fiona comes to a halt, looking at the cliffs with a distant gaze, as if seeing what is not yet there. The city will wind up from the sea to the cliffs and spread back from there in layers. It will always be waiting, no matter the season, no matter the hour. And, of course, there will be light to beckon the ships into port - safe harbor. We will need to find a way to negotiate with any sirens or merfolk, I imagine, for safe passage for ships into our harbor.
She turns, then, looking to the west, smile returning, gaze returning from that distance borne not of far-away places in geography but in what is Not Yet. The smile is one of welcome for all that. And why should it not be...
Who are Huw and Hwyll both, if not her friends...
Fiona waits, allowing the distance between Huw with his companions and herself to be diminished, then calls out. "Good day to you, General. You are looking well. I hope my arrival was not inopportunely timed." It does not have the lilt of apology, but of statement, and a certain strength and pleased vigor. The dainty hands are clasped loosely in front of her again, sleeves flowing, jewels shining from fingers and throat. To the others, she offers a welcoming, impartial smile, but waits to be introduced.
It is perhaps a sign of merit, her faith in Huw and Hwyll alike that she is not more nervous around so many centaurs, with their violent reputations for lust. Or perhaps just her newly acquired confidence in herself...
"Good day to you, My Queen. It is good to see you here. Your kingdom longs for your touch." He bows his head to that and smiles a crooked smile. You know that one, the one he smiled once when he was in your bed. Seems like centuries ago, doesn't it. "May I present to you the chosen captain of your guard. A very brave warrior, with as spotless a soul as any who has ever lived."
Closer to you, you may see this warrior seems to be about Business. With a helmet like Achilles with a great red comb, and bronze armor, he looks very like a Homeric Hero. Body of a golden stallion notwithstanding.
"Queen Fiona, heir of the Seven Towers, this is Aurelius, Champion of the Golden Plain..."
Aurelius bears a staff, one that he presents in deference, a formal bow of his head. "My Gracious Queen. I have heard much of your valor. I am honored to be in your service."
"There is none I would trust to keep you safe and to be your personal champion than Aurelius," Huw goes on to say. Aurelius straightens. You may notice that he does not make eye contact with you so directly. He is showing you the deference due your higher station.
He's poisonously pure. Hwyll's voice sounds in your head. He has eschewed the feminine... and masculine... pleasures of the flesh to dedicate himself to Valor, Honor and Truth. Rumor has it that he has never kissed and that he is, in fact, impossible to allure. All of my maidens have tried and failed.
Hwyll bows to Huw. "Great General, as always a pleasure..." Ha! He and Huw exchange looks, and from Huw a certain rolling of eyes.
The crooked smile is answered with a faint widening of her own. Times past. Things have changed since then. This is as they should be. "I am gratified to meet one who has risen so high in my General's esteem," Fiona says gravely, turning to the centaur that approaches, chin canting down and then back up. "Into your hands, then, I entrust the sanctity of my person from those who would seek to do me harm." She regards Aurelius for a long moment. "Captain, then, and Champion. You do me honour by being willing to serve thus. You will inform me or the General if there is anything that you require for the completion of your duties."
Good for him. Since I gave up my own chastity, someone's got to do it. It's a dirty job, being pure. Fiona's answer to Hwyll is serene and unconcerned. If he manages to hold onto those virtues, then he can certainly say he's achieved something. And it'll cut down on, even if not do away with, the rumors that I'm having it on with him. You know they'll start flying.
Fiona glances between Huw and Hwyll, lips twitching just slightly again. Am I going to have to separate you two? Aloud, though, she says only, "My Viceroy has suggested that once I have met the advisors you have selected, General, that we dine. After dinner, I will be facing a mighty task. However, before my mighty task, there is a matter of visions to be discussed."
And then, almost as an afterthought, there is a thought to Huw... Heard much of my valor? What did you tell him, about my trying to break Davydd's nose?
Posted by rowan at December 30, 2004 11:19 PM
