Post by Moira ap Eiluned on Dec 10, 2014 9:49:16 GMT -8
She had gone to the concert, despite the fact that she knew most of those in her County disapproved. Let them. Beauty came seldom, and lasted but for a brief time; she would embrace it as it came, and let go when it parted. This time, at least, this was something she could do. It felt good, to embrace more fully her own nature, but she could see the discomfort this gave those around her, and it would also feel good to relax back into a form less distressing to this world.
But this concert had not been as the others. This one was about Love, and Moira had thrown her heart open to welcome what came, the bitter and the sweet. To remember in music the one real love she had ever known, likely would ever know, and find celebration and strength in that memory. She let it wash over her, in waves and then in a storm...
A storm that broke down a long-held wall in her memory.
She remembered most of her first life, but there had always been nothing but darkness after the theft of her Shadow. She’d assumed that the trauma had blanked the rest. She’d been right, and more than right. The Sluagh who had baited her, trapped her, snared her Shadow with nails of Cold Iron, had been but a pawn to another, one driven by love and obsession and despite.
Baron Rhys. He’d told her that name, weeks ago, but it had meant nothing to her then. But now she remembered him. Loyal Baron to her father’s sworn enemy, the young and self-centered princess she had been had never noticed him, never noticed his eyes as they followed her at the few formal negotiations she had attended. On opposite sides of politics beyond their control, the divide was complete and no hope could be found for Baron Rhys and his suit.
So the fine and dark UnSeelie Lord pursued another route. By deception did he hire one to ensnare her and rip away her Shadow, the finest of her magics and the best of her protections. Then, as she was mad with fear and desperations, he appeared to her in Light guise, a minor Baron with a library that might assist her in finding magics strong enough to track down that which had been stolen from her. He’d taken her by magic to his Keep, a strong stone fortress set in the borderlands...though on which side of the border would be hard to say...a keep strangely limited in heraldry and markings. Baron Rhys had taken great care to remove or conceal anything that might show allegiance to her father’s enemy.
He had tried to woo her, but her single-minded focus on her goal made his attempts invisible to her. He tried by Chicanery to draw her attention and her regard, but her wards were strong. He tried by Cold Iron and persistence to wear them down, but though he made progress each day, by the dawn of the next they would be restored to fullness. Finally he could take no more, could restrain himself no more. By deception did he drug her, and chain her in his dungeon. With Cold Iron and pain did he torture her, rend her, flay her. With no rest and no relief, her wards weakened and weakened more. And Baron Rhys found great pleasure in taking his frustration out on the one who truly deserved it.
And one final night, when he was certain that she was weak enough to succumb, he cast a long and complex magic, a spell to bind her heart to his, her life to his, under his will and his subjugation, never to refuse him aught again. But Moria had never been weak, not in that or any lifetime after. And she had saved a small hoard of energy, waiting for just this. With her last strength, she grabbed the spell he wrought and warped it, twisting it to drive them always apart, until the first night of True Winter. And as Baron Rhys staggered from the backlash of his own spell, Moira thrust his ritual dagger through herself, ending her life and her imprisonment, and guaranteeing that they would never meet again.
Well, until Never came in the person of the Winter Queen.
For long moments the memory took her breath away. And then the wave passed, and took their place as proper memories might. A year ago, this would have rocked her to her core. Even two months ago, the backlash would have been dark. But now she understood why Jack Lightning’s power had waited until now to release the truth within her. Now, and only now, was she prepared to deal properly with this part of her past.
Now, and only now, did Moira understand the strange looks she’d been getting from Baron Jean-Claude, who had once been known as Baron Rhys. And now, she realized, it was time for them to have a very serious talk about the past, the present, and the days yet to come.
But this concert had not been as the others. This one was about Love, and Moira had thrown her heart open to welcome what came, the bitter and the sweet. To remember in music the one real love she had ever known, likely would ever know, and find celebration and strength in that memory. She let it wash over her, in waves and then in a storm...
A storm that broke down a long-held wall in her memory.
She remembered most of her first life, but there had always been nothing but darkness after the theft of her Shadow. She’d assumed that the trauma had blanked the rest. She’d been right, and more than right. The Sluagh who had baited her, trapped her, snared her Shadow with nails of Cold Iron, had been but a pawn to another, one driven by love and obsession and despite.
Baron Rhys. He’d told her that name, weeks ago, but it had meant nothing to her then. But now she remembered him. Loyal Baron to her father’s sworn enemy, the young and self-centered princess she had been had never noticed him, never noticed his eyes as they followed her at the few formal negotiations she had attended. On opposite sides of politics beyond their control, the divide was complete and no hope could be found for Baron Rhys and his suit.
So the fine and dark UnSeelie Lord pursued another route. By deception did he hire one to ensnare her and rip away her Shadow, the finest of her magics and the best of her protections. Then, as she was mad with fear and desperations, he appeared to her in Light guise, a minor Baron with a library that might assist her in finding magics strong enough to track down that which had been stolen from her. He’d taken her by magic to his Keep, a strong stone fortress set in the borderlands...though on which side of the border would be hard to say...a keep strangely limited in heraldry and markings. Baron Rhys had taken great care to remove or conceal anything that might show allegiance to her father’s enemy.
He had tried to woo her, but her single-minded focus on her goal made his attempts invisible to her. He tried by Chicanery to draw her attention and her regard, but her wards were strong. He tried by Cold Iron and persistence to wear them down, but though he made progress each day, by the dawn of the next they would be restored to fullness. Finally he could take no more, could restrain himself no more. By deception did he drug her, and chain her in his dungeon. With Cold Iron and pain did he torture her, rend her, flay her. With no rest and no relief, her wards weakened and weakened more. And Baron Rhys found great pleasure in taking his frustration out on the one who truly deserved it.
And one final night, when he was certain that she was weak enough to succumb, he cast a long and complex magic, a spell to bind her heart to his, her life to his, under his will and his subjugation, never to refuse him aught again. But Moria had never been weak, not in that or any lifetime after. And she had saved a small hoard of energy, waiting for just this. With her last strength, she grabbed the spell he wrought and warped it, twisting it to drive them always apart, until the first night of True Winter. And as Baron Rhys staggered from the backlash of his own spell, Moira thrust his ritual dagger through herself, ending her life and her imprisonment, and guaranteeing that they would never meet again.
Well, until Never came in the person of the Winter Queen.
For long moments the memory took her breath away. And then the wave passed, and took their place as proper memories might. A year ago, this would have rocked her to her core. Even two months ago, the backlash would have been dark. But now she understood why Jack Lightning’s power had waited until now to release the truth within her. Now, and only now, was she prepared to deal properly with this part of her past.
Now, and only now, did Moira understand the strange looks she’d been getting from Baron Jean-Claude, who had once been known as Baron Rhys. And now, she realized, it was time for them to have a very serious talk about the past, the present, and the days yet to come.