Post by Moira ap Eiluned on Mar 26, 2009 13:29:16 GMT -8
She didn’t know why she’d gone back. No, that wasn’t true. She knew, it just didn’t make sense.
The house just kept seeming emptier and emptier. And while being alone had never bothered her before – she’d never even thought of it, really – being ALL alone, no Brand, no Aunt Fiona…that was entirely different.
So she found herself going back to the large Freehold, just to watch people, just for the sound of voices, and movement, and the feeling of others nearby. But then people tried to talk to her, interact with her, and she was never sure what to do…
Going out still terrified her. Nothing made sense, she didn’t know where she belonged. People kept expecting things of her. Plans, ideas, opinions. She’d never been asked her opinion before, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want people doing it now. She wasn’t supposed to have opinions, or ideas, or do anything besides what she was told to. But who would tell her what to do now?
Rochus had spoken with her for the better part of an evening once, when he found her there. He was really quite nice, but he did so much thinking… What she should do, why she should do it. The strange thing was he didn’t seem to much care what she did, so long as it was her choice…as though she had any right to choose. But with Aunt Fiona gone, who did have the right to choose for her, to decide how her unique talents should be used? Her aunt had always told her that it was for the good of the Realm that she remained neutral, a portal to the future, open always so that others could make the right decisions without worrying about what she might or might not be telling them.
And her Aunt had warned her what would happen if she didn’t obey. There had been a House of seers once, she knew, true prophets of the future. But that House thought that, because the future came to them, they had the right to control it. So there came a time when they chose not to share the visions that came to them, and thousands of Kithain died. For this crime they were hunted, and exiled, and stricken from memory.
The visions that came through her were from the Dreaming itself, and were meant to be shared. The loss of that House was a lesson that Fiona made sure she took to heart. If she should choose to take the power to herself, and use it for her own will, she would be hunted, or imprisoned, or worse, for none would be able to trust her.
And she wanted to be trusted. She wanted to do the right thing, do her duty…if only she knew what that was. She wanted to help people, to give them what they needed to strive, to grow, to excel…to truly be the Shining Host, gleaming gold in this world of mud. But what could she do, with no one to tell her what to do? Or rather, not knowing who to look to? Rochus said she had to choose someone, that choosing would be her choice, only that wasn’t right, either.
In the end, it was Rochus who helped her see the answer. The Dreaming had the right, and no other. And the Queen was the voice of the Dream on the mortal plane, granted her title by its power alone. It was for the Queen, then, to decide where she would serve, and whom. Only in this way could she know that the right choice was made. And then, perhaps, she would not feel so very alone…
The house just kept seeming emptier and emptier. And while being alone had never bothered her before – she’d never even thought of it, really – being ALL alone, no Brand, no Aunt Fiona…that was entirely different.
So she found herself going back to the large Freehold, just to watch people, just for the sound of voices, and movement, and the feeling of others nearby. But then people tried to talk to her, interact with her, and she was never sure what to do…
Going out still terrified her. Nothing made sense, she didn’t know where she belonged. People kept expecting things of her. Plans, ideas, opinions. She’d never been asked her opinion before, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want people doing it now. She wasn’t supposed to have opinions, or ideas, or do anything besides what she was told to. But who would tell her what to do now?
Rochus had spoken with her for the better part of an evening once, when he found her there. He was really quite nice, but he did so much thinking… What she should do, why she should do it. The strange thing was he didn’t seem to much care what she did, so long as it was her choice…as though she had any right to choose. But with Aunt Fiona gone, who did have the right to choose for her, to decide how her unique talents should be used? Her aunt had always told her that it was for the good of the Realm that she remained neutral, a portal to the future, open always so that others could make the right decisions without worrying about what she might or might not be telling them.
And her Aunt had warned her what would happen if she didn’t obey. There had been a House of seers once, she knew, true prophets of the future. But that House thought that, because the future came to them, they had the right to control it. So there came a time when they chose not to share the visions that came to them, and thousands of Kithain died. For this crime they were hunted, and exiled, and stricken from memory.
The visions that came through her were from the Dreaming itself, and were meant to be shared. The loss of that House was a lesson that Fiona made sure she took to heart. If she should choose to take the power to herself, and use it for her own will, she would be hunted, or imprisoned, or worse, for none would be able to trust her.
And she wanted to be trusted. She wanted to do the right thing, do her duty…if only she knew what that was. She wanted to help people, to give them what they needed to strive, to grow, to excel…to truly be the Shining Host, gleaming gold in this world of mud. But what could she do, with no one to tell her what to do? Or rather, not knowing who to look to? Rochus said she had to choose someone, that choosing would be her choice, only that wasn’t right, either.
In the end, it was Rochus who helped her see the answer. The Dreaming had the right, and no other. And the Queen was the voice of the Dream on the mortal plane, granted her title by its power alone. It was for the Queen, then, to decide where she would serve, and whom. Only in this way could she know that the right choice was made. And then, perhaps, she would not feel so very alone…