"...I need to stop trying to live the life I imagined I would be living right now and think about ... just... right now."

     "...They should be thanking him. They should be rewarding him. Papa might always have been destined for great things, but he wouldn't even have lived so long to produce us if it weren't for daddy, and nainie, and taid, and my uncle, and ... anyway."

     There is a sudden, terrible wracking of emotion. It shakes his body. And like a summer storm, it passes just as quickly.

     As hands join from couple to couple, Gruffydd glances to his lover. It's perfect, actually. Just family. Just friends. We're all holding one another's hands. And the promise is a simple one. Love one another.

     You can't kick the throne of God but you can kick me. You can't shake your fist at the stars, but you can beat upon my chest. Duma accepts it. I love you, and I will be wherever you are.

     "I wish that I could remain forever with you. Unfortunately... my time here is coming to an end, children."

     "With glittering eyes," he intones, "...she defies the air to love her. Perfume her, it does, and winds about her waist. It tastes the kiss it takes and whispers: I will." Turning his head to her, Duma winks. "All this and poetry too..."

     Without expectations, and certainly without much hope, he met her and upon meeting her began to think: why not? Why not a fairytale? But when he received the summons to the garden, he knew why not. Fairytales, as romantic and fun as they are, seldom work their way into reality. They will be so disappointed, if I am right about being wrong.

     ..."I wish love would come on our terms, but we don't run it. If we did, we'd have no poetry..."

     "You are not sure about me." His mouth forms a smile. "With the exception of frustration and ... perhaps a little contempt." Duma leans in toward you. "Yet you have not dismissed me, so there is room for me to hope..."

     Balthazar reaches out to nudge you. "Time is not short. You put too much pressure on it. Let it be. You can't control it anyway. Learn from my mistakes. I make so many good ones, it would be a shame to waste them."

     "So...where was I? Oh yes, magic. I can see that now: you do favor both of your fathers, which of course would be impossible otherwise. And though I have never seen your mother, I suspect that is because of the beauty that you surely have inherited... see?" He grins. "I just heard myself say that. And it sounds a bit thick, something of a line. It isn't. I'm awkward. And you're beautiful. Has anyone but everyone told you that? To the point that it's difficult to think...?"

     Around here, ask the universe a question, and one is liable to get an answer back. Duma appears as if from a carnival, holding (and enjoying) a caramel apple. He is dressed in dark denim, a white t-shirt and a black blazer, his shoes a brushed charcoal suede. The shirt says: No, your other left.

     The summons was received by the lady's maid, who woke her, and worked furiously with another maid to make the lady presentable for a royal audience.

     Ladies in beautiful gowns and men in their very best court attire linger in the great halls of the opera amphitheater, meandering and mingling during the first intermission.

     "...Who knew it would be so difficult to fall in love?" he smiles. "Or to want to. I suppose I would have better luck if I were a baker. It's a lot of pressure, don't you think? To find someone who is right for you and a kingdom? I understand your weariness."

     "...Prince Balthazar is a wonderful man of intelligence and grace, and he comes from a family by whom I consider myself privileged to be granted the honor of this consideration. I am certain that he would be dismayed if I took him so for granted as to fail to give him the opportunity to display his abilities; but I do not believe that I shall go out of my way to invent tests for him, our courtship already being secure. Fate will find tests aplenty for us both, as it will for all living beings who strive for excellence. My only hope is that we may both achieve a level of such that we may be each other's equal."

     Tanira smiles demurely, neatly unfastening her veil and setting it aside. She takes up her cup in both hands and lifts it to her lips. "Nothing illegal, I do not believe, papa. It is nothing terribly strange. I have decided that I wish to marry."

     "The road to Hell is always paved with good intentions, little brother. You should realize that by now," Tanira answers you lightly. She draws the cloth down a little. "Close your eyes."

     Golden eyes look to his sister, then quickly look away. When we played as children in the sun, it was like Hawaii never ended. But you are right, I am afraid, my sister. There is a shadow on my heart. I didn't know it was there until just right this moment.

     "Oh oops," Sabira says with a smile, folding her wings as she walks with Maddie into the radiant blue-white light and into the portal. She sticks a foot in first, that disappears from sight and then says: "I'm melting, I'm melting!"

     "I have been in the shadow of a star all my life," he smiles a little. "And I have made choices, being your younger brother, being the one to come behind you, to avoid competing directly with you. You are... an incredibly difficult act to follow..."

     Not really. I'm learning the Art of Faking It. His mouth, blushed as ripening fruit, curves upward as he cracks open a solar eye. Faking it though he may be, his humor is at least true -- and returned.

     She tangles her fingers in your hair, lightly, gently, then withdraws. Her hand remains on your thigh, feeding you energy, powering the healing that is needed. "I think it is time that you built your temple..."