Once again, I was on the bluffs, overlooking Callenden and lake Ascorian. It was sunny, and warm, with little puffy clouds in the sky, and banners in red and gold, and green and gold hung nearby – decorated in wolves and stags – symbols of Erevale and Callenden. I felt happy, but mildly anxious, and I curiously realized I must be dreaming.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to look – but no one was there. Was it Cassandra? Is this another dream of her, I wondered.
“Cassandra? Are you here?”
There was no answer, but I did notice something – my clothes were different, and my hair was very long… long like Rachel’s or Alyssa’s. What the hell? I was wearing a dress – like the ones Ser Eldergleam made for Rachel, to enhance her feminine traits and make her look more like a girl. My hair was in a long brown braid, and hung to my mid back – and it was tied with a scarlet ribbon. Cute, I thought. Why am I dressed like a girl? Is this Cassandra’s doing?
Even with all the weirdness of the dream, I kind of liked how the clothes felt on me… The dress was tight in some places, and nice and loose in others and it showed off my… well I didn’t really have anything to show off, but I still kind of liked it. Why did I care I didn’t have any cleavage? All of a sudden, I felt out of sorts, and wrong, and I felt the dysphoria I had when I was young come back, with a vengeance.
I cried out, and reached towards a tree to help keep myself standing – and the scene changed. It was now night, and I and the others were arrayed around a large bonfire, somewhere in the palace gardens of Erevale. Rachel and Alyssa were standing near the fire in pure white robes, and the High Priestess from Enders Hollow was anointing them with blessed oil and speaking sacred words – the words of the Twin Soul ceremony.
I looked to my side, and saw Tika and Alyssa’s parents, and Morag nearby, as moral support for the two girls to be. Why did I feel so alone? I was surrounded by people! I felt tears build in my eyes, and brushed them away.
“And so, the Blessing of Askline, the Blessing of the Twin Souled is upon you. Would you cast away all that you have been, and embrace what you are becoming? Will you step forth into a new dawn as your heart demands, as your soul cries out to itself? Are you ready to change who you were to who you will become?”
“Aye.” Rachel spoke in a whisper.
“Aye.” Alyssa replied, just as quietly, reverently.
“Aye.” I tried to speak, and I couldn’t. Emotion choked the words out of me… and I was surprised that the emotions I felt were not happiness for Rachel and my friend Alyssa, but something darker, and less kind.
Envy.
“Then step forward, into the fire – and be reborn, like the phoenix of legend.”
The girls stepped forward, and I wanted to join them… I wanted to join them in the fire, but for some reason, my limbs wouldn’t move, my mouth wouldn’t speak. All I could do is stand there and tremble, in grief, consumed by envy and a palpable sadness that colored everything I experienced.
I missed my chance. I missed it. The thoughts rang through my head like bells from a church tower. That could have been you, too, Cass!
I watched the girls – one my friend, and the other my fiancée, enter the fire – and the flames roared high, consuming them – and moments later, I saw Rachel and Alyssa – the real Rachel and Alyssa - for the first time. Rachel was beautiful – with long honey blonde hair down to her waist, with piercing blue eyes, and a figure any woman would be jealous of. She was tall – but not too tall – perhaps five inches shy six feet, and to me she looked perfect. Alyssa had long brown hair, of equal length, and was shorter than Rachel – by maybe two or three inches, and looked just as beautiful. They were perfect… and I was me.
I should be proud of my friends. I should be cheering their success! Why does it feel like my heart is being pierced by knives that I don’t stand next to them? Why do I feel left behind?
Why does this hurt so much? All I feel is the unfairness of it all. Why do I have to be king? I mean, I have to, don’t I? How can you have a kingdom, without a King? Won’t the people expect a King and a Queen or some variation of that? Don’t they? I can’t be a Queen too, can I? How can you have a kingdom with three queens?
I didn’t know. I fell to my knees, crying, and suddenly, I woke, tears streaming down my face, my heart full of grief. I couldn’t reign in my emotions, and sobbed quietly until I fell asleep again.
* * *
I don’t know when I woke – it must have been early. I remembered the dream – or at least most of it – and the feeling of being uncomfortable in my own skin still clung to me. The only saving grace was that I wasn’t growing hair where I didn’t want it, thanks to the potion Rachel loaned me… but still. I splashed some water on my face, and sat there in the dark, alone with my thoughts.
Am I still Trans? Can you even stop being Trans? I thought I had put this behind me… Or did I just hide from it a little while? Am I still Castiel, or am I Cassandra? My thoughts were all awhirl as I struggled with my inner demons, my wants and desires, and the constraints I felt in my role.
I don’t know how long I brooded, but I felt a presence beside me… I turned, and saw Morag, who had slipped into my room of the large palatial tent we shared with Rachel, and had sat down next to me.
“What troubles you, Castiel?” She said quietly, placing her hand on my thigh for comfort.
“I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know.” I said, squeezing her hand.
“I heard you last night. You were crying, I think.” She said, concerned.
“A bad dream, Morag. I guess I still have problems to work out.”
“Problems you don’t have to face alone, Castiel.” She reminded me. “And sometime, I have found that problems shared with others are problems that hurt the less, like a boil being lanced in the telling of it.”
“I… I’m not ready to talk about it.” I said, ashamed.
“I understand. And if it helps you to talk to Rachel instead of me, then please do so. Let us help you, my husband to be. No one should be alone with such pain.”
I nodded, and squeezed her hand. “And how are you holding up, Morag? I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“I… I am holding up, to be strong for my people, but inside, I grieve. My father, my brothers – all slain.” Morag started to cry, and I wrapped her in my arms to comfort her.
“I wonder if I had been where I was supposed to have been – on the bluff nearby – if I could have saved them. If I could have made a difference. Is it my fault they’re dead, Cass? Is it? I can’t tell, and my heart aches so much I want to crawl into a hole and cry… But I can’t.” Morag cried some more, holding tight to me in a display of vulnerability I had never seen from her before.
“I have to be strong, because my people need me to be in the coming days, but I feel weak. I feel I failed. Please, just hold me for a while, Cass.”
So I did. I held her, and I told her all the things she needed to hear. I stroked her hair, and I calmed her. I needed to be strong, so that she could be strong. It was my turn to be her rock, like she was mine before the battle. I knew Rachel would agree… Morag needed that strength and comfort we could give her, and so we would.
“Everything will be okay, Morag. We can’t bring your father and brothers back, but we can honor them, and show that we cherish their memory. They will never be forgotten, Morag – they will survive through you, and your nephew William. We will hunt down their murderer until the ends of the world, and I’ll bring you her head, as promised.”
“On a silver platter.” She reminded me.
“Aye, on a silver platter, as agreed.” I said gently brushing her tears away.
“Very well, then.” Morag replied, letting herself lean into me. “I believe you, Cass. It’s just difficult to see how things will work out at the moment – the future is so very clouded, and seems so far away.”
“Aye, I guess it does.” I didn’t know what else to say.
We sat like that, just being, for a little while, and eventually got ready for another day of travel by carriage.
* * *
Morag and I had been lost in our own thoughts for far too long… I was brooding about my nightmare, and I’m sure she was thinking of how she was going to manage the funerals of her family, and deal with being crowned Queen of Erevale. We had been travelling for four days towards Erevale, and we were all tired, cranky and out of sorts.
“Alright, will somebody talk to me?” Rachel began. She looked concerned, and stressed, and I couldn’t help but realize we both must have been ignoring her most of the day.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ve been having bad dreams, and I’ve been brooding about them. I’m sorry I haven’t been here – my mind felt like it was a million miles away. Sorry.” I replied.
“Aye, and I’ve been wallowing in my grief. I’m sorry if we’ve troubled you, Rachel.”
“What troubles me, is that you both are hurting and no one is talking to me. How can I help if you both shut me out?” Rachel replied, a little sadly. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, Morag, but if you want to talk, I’m here. The same goes for you too, Cass. I mean it. Please don’t shut me out.”
“I’m sorry, Rachel. It’s about before… My dreams.”
Rachel nodded. “Cassandra?”
“Aye.” I said quietly.
“Who is Cassandra?” Morag asked.
“I… well… uh…” I began, not knowing what to say. “She’s… she’s me when I was a child. I… I was twin souled, back on earth, like Rachel and Alyssa – but then my cousin hurt me badly, and scared me badly – and I rejected her… me… I don’t know. Long story short, I was so hurt my mind forgot I was Cassandra for most of my youth, and I only started remembering her when Feana and Hathor spoke to me, inside my head.”
“You have spoken to the gods themselves? Do you have any idea how rare that is?” Morag replied.
“Um… no. They do it all the time. Is that not normal?”
“No, Cass, it is not. Are you well?”
“I am, I think. The twins said they broke me, talking to me like that – and unless they repaired my mind, I would fracture and go mad. I thought it worked – I thought I was healed. Am I going mad?”
“I don’t know, Castiel. I don’t think so. If the gods healed you, then you should be fine. Perhaps your mind is still working out some problems – problems you placed on the back burner while trying to deal with the invasion of Callenden? Now that that stress is over, your mind is returning to a problem you too long ignored.”
“Maybe.” I said sadly.
“Do you think you could be having second thoughts on who you are? On who you should be?” Rachel asked, holding my hand gently.
“I don’t know.” I whispered.
Morag looked thoughtful for a few moments, and placed her hand upon my knee – she was sitting across from me, while Rachel was sitting beside me. “I will support any decision you make, Castiel.”
“As will I.” Rachel said. “Be who you want to be, Cass. Not who you think you need to be.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is.” Rachel replied. “It’s always that simple. Be yourself, whoever that person is. Just cut away all the expectations that people place on you, that society tells you what you have to do, that family expects of you. Pare all the extraneous stuff away until all that is left is you, Cass – and whoever that is, is who you should be. The version of you that makes you happy.”
I nodded, and squeezed her hand gently. I didn’t know if I could. Maybe if I left it alone for a while it would go away like before? I didn’t know what to do, so I just said nothing, and sat quietly with my two queens to be, lost in my sadness and my thoughts, wondering if there was a way I could emerge from all of this, and be happy. To be honest, I didn’t know – like Morag said earlier, the future is lost in smoke and shadows.
Was it was easy as Rachel said?
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Could it be?
As I was lost in my thoughts, the carriage rolled along the cobbled path, and we made our way ever closer to Erevale.
* * *
That night, after I said goodnight to Rachel and Morag, I retired to the small room in our tent where my pallet lay. A small table with a candle rested there, giving the room light, and a trunk containing some of my clothes was here too. Samuel, my manservant, waited nearby and rose as I entered.
“Can I help you get ready for bed, Milord?” He asked.
“Sure thing, Samuel. These royal garments are a pain to get in and out of. I hope the clothes your father and grandfather make me are more practical.”
“I’m afraid Prince Michael preferred showing off his wealth and status, more than he favored practicality, Milord. Then again, he normally wasn’t the kind of man to lead a battle from the front, either. The people hold you in great regard for that, Milord.”
“I’m glad. It was the right thing to do. I thought it would inspire the people.” As I spoke, Samuel helped remove the heavy silk and velvet overcoat and began unbuttoning the silk doublet I wore.
“Aye, Milord, and it did. I think the people of Callenden are glad to have you.” With that, he helped me remove the constricting doublet, leaving me in a loose linen shirt, and my breeches.
“Thank you, Samuel. I think I can take it the rest of the way on my own.”
“As you wish, Milord. If it please you, I’ll take your trousers and shirt, your jacket and shoes, and have them pressed and polished as needed for tomorrow morning.” He replied.
“Only if you promise to try and get some sleep too, lad.” I returned, smiling.
“Aye, Milord. I promise.”
I stripped out of my pants and shoes – fancy leather things with golden buckles – completely impractical to fight in, but all that Prince Michael had in his wardrobe. “Here you go, Samuel.”
“Thank you, Milord. I hope you have a good evening.”
“Thank you, Samuel. It will be a little while before I sleep. I think I need to ask the Twins for guidance.”
Samuel nodded, and smiled. “Then, may the gods be with you.” He took my clothes, and retreated from the tent.
Finally alone, I sat down on my bed, and took stock of myself. I felt alright, but not really, at the same time.
Did part of me really still want to be Cassandra? I didn’t know, but I suspected the answer was yes. The question was what was I prepared to do about it. I loved Rachel – and I was becoming very fond of Morag. What would they think, if I declared I wished to be female? Would the wedding be off? Could they even love me if I was Cassandra and not Castiel? Was I going to be forced by circumstance to be Castiel forever, whether I wanted to be him or not?
Without realizing it, I felt tears roll down my face as I sobbed quietly, so that Morag and Rachel wouldn’t hear. I needed to work this out, and right now, I didn’t want their sympathy… Feana, Hathor, I prayed. What should I do? Who am I? I need your guidance. At first there was nothing, but as moments passed, I felt a warmth enter me, and hover inside my chest, and I heard a voice in my head… It was Hathor, or his presence.
*Hello, Cass. You called for my aid?*
I nodded. “I need advice. What should I do?” I whispered, barely audible in the quiet tent.
*Do you remember the oath we asked you to swear to us, when you took the path of a Vigilant? We asked you to defend the innocent, to reward the just, to punish the wicked, and to be true to yourself and others, until the end of your days. Be true to yourself, Cass. You need to accept who you are – and who you are now is not necessarily the same person as you were when you were twelve. You were Cassandra – then you became Geoffrey – and now you are a different Cass… Castiel. You are searching for yourself, Castiel – and you have not yet found yourself. When you do, you will know it. I strongly suspect you’ll feel rather stupid when it happens too – once I saw who I really was, I was astonished at how obvious it was in retrospect. I wondered how I couldn’t see it.*
“Can you see it?”
*Yes, but for it to have any meaning, you need to be the one who discovers it, Cass.*
“Do you have any advice for me?”
*Follow your heart. Trust your instincts. Trust in your friends; they’ve got your back. If you stay true to yourself, you’ll be fine. It might hurt at times – discovering who you really are can be traumatic – but it’ll be worth it in the end.*
“This isn’t normal, is it, my Lord? Us talking like this?”
*No, it isn’t Cass. Feana and I rarely have time to talk to all our Vigilants, or other worshippers – but for the special ones we tend to make an exception. You are one of the special ones, Cass.*
“I don’t know why, my Lord. But thank you for talking with me. Thank you for your advice.”
*It’s not time for you to know, Castiel, but there will a time when things will be explained to you. Until then, if you have need, call upon us and if we are able, my sister or I will answer your call.*
“Thank you, my Lord.” I said, quietly, and reverently. As I spoke the words, I felt the warmth in my chest dislodge, and disappear, gone back to wherever it came from… from Heaven? I just talked to a god, again. I didn’t know what to feel, except gratitude and humility, and for a while, I just wondered if there was some grand design I had a part in.
In the end, I realized my musings were pointless. I needed to work on me – on who I was – not worry about an unmentioned and possibly non-existent destiny. And right now, I was so worked up from my tears, from my chat with the gods, that I wasn’t going to make any headway tonight.
Sighing, I lay down and tried to sleep. I don’t know whether it was fatigue, or stress – but I fell asleep almost the moment my head touched my pillow.
* * *
“It’s about time you showed up.” Cassandra said, quietly.
I looked around – somehow I was dreaming again, except this time I was separate from Cassandra… I looked at myself, and saw Geoffrey. “Are we going to be arguing with each other all night?” I asked.
“I hope not.” She replied, smiling and frowning at the same time.
“Me too.” I said quietly. “I have a lot to sort out.”
“You think?” The sarcasm in Cassandra’s voice was plain to hear, and not entirely undeserved.
“Am I trans?”
“I know you’re an idiot about this, Cass, but yes. You can’t stop being trans – you either are, or you aren’t. It’s not a choice, like being cis isn’t a choice. It just is. What we have to do is decide what to do about it.” Cassandra sat next to me on a bench I didn’t see appear, and held my hand.
“Part of me wants to be you.”
“And part of you is happy being Geoffrey. Not every trans person chooses to transition, Cass.”
“I… isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”
“Ignore for a moment what you think you have to do – forget all those expectations, okay?” Cassandra asked. “Just for a moment, ask yourself who do you want to be – Geoffrey, or Cassandra, or some other third person?”
I thought about it for a while. “I like being Geoffrey – at times. It’s easier, in some ways… but at other times, I really want to be Cassandra. I like parts of both of them.”
“And considering they’re both parts of you, that makes complete sense. The question is how do you survive and prosper when you are locked into one body? Could you survive being Geoffrey all the time, and possibly taking the edge off by cross-dressing or embracing more feminine things? Or do you need to have more – be more completely a woman?”
“I don’t know. Can’t I be both?”
“I don’t know, Cass. I’m the part of you that wants to be female – and you’re the part that got used to being male, even if you didn’t like it all that much. I don’t know.”
I mused a while quietly, holding Cassandra’s hand. “I don’t know. If I had a choice, I’d be able to switch back and forth between Castiel and Cassandra whenever I wished, you know? Have the best of both worlds. Maybe I’m gender fluid?”
“Maybe. We’re in a world of magic. It might be possible to do what you want… maybe a blessing from the gods could do it, or a powerful spell – or even a magical item or something.”
“Maybe. I guess there’s hope… I’m not sure that’s want I want either, but it seems closer than either being Geoffrey or Cassandra all the time. Maybe there’s a middle ground.”
“I don’t know, Cass. I do know you’re conflicted about being Geoffrey – and you’re worried about being me – Cassandra. Maybe a third path is what you need to feel whole, and safe. You could ask Morag or Fionn or someone about the possibility of a magical item or a spell?”
“Yeah, maybe. Can I just hold you right now. I feel wrong and lonely.”
“Me too.” Cassandra said, holding me tightly.
Time passed, as we held each other, and for a while everything seemed okay.
And then I woke up.
* * *
The next few days were tense and a bit stressful as I wrestled with my inner demons, trying to decide what path I needed to take to heal myself and feel whole, and as Rachel and I tried to buoy Morag’s spirits. It wasn’t easy balancing the two – and salving Rachel’s hurts when she couldn’t reach either of us at time was a challenge too. Today was our sixth day of travel – we were to arrive in Erevale tomorrow late in the morning; the soldiers would be a few days behind us, with the wounded that could travel. The wounded that couldn’t travel were still in Callenden.
Today, Alyssa and Tika were riding with us, instead of one of the other carriages in our small party of knights and nobles. Samuel was in the other Carriage, along with Eoghan and Dunny and a maid of Morag’s I hadn’t really met yet.
“Everyone is so quiet!” Tika chattered. “Is everything okay?”
“No, Tika.” I replied, quietly. “Morag is having a hard time dealing with her dad and brothers passing – and I’m struggling with some personal problems too – which means Rachel is being driven to distraction trying to care for both of us.”
“Oh! I hope you feel better soon, Cass, and you too, Morag. Maybe I can cheer you up? Oh! I know! I can tell you the tale of a Reechi Heroine! Skitter and the seven acorns of stone!”
Alyssa smiled. “That sounds exciting. Who is Skitter?”
Morag smiled too. “Aye, tell us.”
“Skitter was supposed to be a powerful Reechi sorcerer from a long time ago – before the Castle at Callenden was built. There was a problem with trolls and giants coming from the mountains in those days – and they came and killed and ate a lot of the people – humans, reechi and all other folks they came across too!”
“Other folks?” Rachel quipped.
“Yeah. There are Elves, like from Lytherane or the Isle of Maben, and there are Dwarves, like from Kharn and the Halls of Fire. There’s lots of different human types too, and some Catfolk from further south, or Wolfen from the far north. Anyway, one day a nasty troll comes too far south, and hurts too many of Skitters human friends, so she decides she’s going to stop the troll from hurting everyone else.”
Tika paused a moment, then continued. “She gathered up seven perfect acorns, and cast powerful spells on them – so that when they were thrown at someone or something, they would turn it right to stone. Now enchanting these acorns wasn’t easy – but she was able to do it, and when she was done, she went hunting the troll who hurt her town, all by herself.”
“Skitter was really scared – after all she was just one Reechi, and a smash from the troll’s club would mash her into jelly! – but she kept her wits around her, and kept to the shadows, being sneaky and quiet… and soon, she was outside the trolls lair. It smelled of blood and death, and she knew she had to go inside…”
“It sounds like she was very brave, Tika.” Morag said.
“Oh she was – but she also felt she had no choice, or other people of the village would die. She was trying to save her friends lives.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Morag nodded. “Did she succeed?”
“Aye. After a fierce fight – where she snuck about, trying to harm the troll with her magic acorns, she succeeded in turning his chair and his club to stone, and finally the troll as well. It’s said that when the battle was over, she was hurt and bleeding from too many near misses, and that she had three magic acorns left. She left the cave, and returned home, and lived a happy normal life thereafter.”
“Is it true?” Alyssa asked.
“Aye. Cheerit showed me the acorns… Skitter was her great, great, great grandma-ma,”
“Wow!” Alyssa smiled.
“Is there a moral to the story?” I asked.
“Yeah. I guess it’s this. It’s okay to feel tiny. It’s okay to feel scared. Sometimes your problems are really, really big and seem like too much to handle… But if you take the time to give yourself the right tools for the job, even big problems can be dealt with. I know you must be hurting, Morag… But I think if you let Cass and Rachel help you, you can weather this and thrive. You’ll be a great queen one day, I know it. And you, Cass, Rachel. It’s okay to feel small and like your problems are really big. Just don’t let them squash you, like the giant tried to do with Skitter, okay? I believe in all of you!”
I smiled, and tousled Tika’s hair. “Gods bless you, Tika. Thank you for your story.”
“Aye.” Morag smiled, looking a little better than before. “Thank you for your confidence in me.”
“Anytime, My Lady.” Tika said shyly.
We sat quietly for a while, enjoying the silent camaraderie, our spirits raised. Tomorrow we would arrive in Erevale.
* * *
It was noon when we arrived in Erevale. The day was overcast, and threatening rain – which matched thoroughly the mood in the carriages. I held Morag’s hand in mine as we crested the final rise before the palace of Erevale, and heard the peal of silver trumpets welcoming her home. Word had travelled before us – one of the knights had ridden with messages for Morag’s mother, the Queen, and the people of Erevale were lining the streets, some of them sobbing, while others offered their condolences. A few hurled curses at me, which I suppose was fair. If it hadn’t been for me, their king and his sons may still have been alive.
“Cass, don’t let them get to you. They don’t really blame you.” Morag said quietly. “They’re hurting as much as I am, as much as we all are.”
“It’s alright, Morag. They’re just words. I know how you feel. Rachel and I have your back. I’ll be fine.”
“Cass is right, Morag. We’ll be here to support you – as friends and family. We’ll be by your side through this anytime you need us.” Rachel added.
Morag nodded, sniffling a bit, and wiping away a tear. “Thank you, Rachel.”
We rode in the carriage quietly, until we left the city streets behind, and entered into the castle courtyard. Queen Elissa, wearing her best courtly garb, was waiting for us. She was trying to look strong, but she looked stricken, and my heart broke for her loss. I knew there was nothing I could say – indirectly I was the cause of her husband’s death, and that of her three sons.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and a knight stepped up to hold the door of the carriage open for Lady Morag. Rachel gave Morag a final nod, and a gentle squeeze to her hand for support, and Morag emerged from the carriage, followed by myself and Rachel, whom I helped down.
Morag and her mother, Queen Elissa just looked at each other for a moment, and then Morag swept forward, and wrapped her mother – who looked so much smaller than the last time I saw her – into a powerful hug. A few moments later, they both broke into sobs, and I motioned for the attending knights to give them some personal space.
After a few moments, as their sobs ended, I stepped forward. “Queen Elissa, I… I’m sorry for your loss. I will do everything I can bring their killer to justice.”
“What… Morag, how did they die? Sir Venrik told me it was an assassin, but surely there was more to it than that?”
“Aye, mother.” Morag began. “As you know, Queen Hemlock planted spies and assassins in our household – flesh-shaped to look like our allies and friends. This was no different. Fathers page – the one who fetched his wine – was a spy planted by Queen Hemlock. He… He poisoned them – Father, and my brothers, and then used sorcery to slay them while they were incapacitated. Witnesses say the spy did it to save his family – or else the Queen would have had them slain. It was her doing, mother.”
“Then why does Geoffrey still live? Tell me, King Geoffrey! Why do you live, and my family lies dead?”
“Queen Elissa, the only reason I still live is that I led the battle from the front. I did not stay behind to manage the disposition of the troops – a fact for which your husband and sons thought me quite mad. I thought it would inspire the troops – and it did. I had no idea of the danger they were in.”
The queen nodded, and cast her eyes down. She looked tired, and utterly spent. She had lost almost her entire family in one blow – the fact she could even stand and be here with us was a miracle. Rachel and I moved in to give her a hug, and she and Morag gathered us all together. We all had tears in our eyes, and I could tell Queen Elissa didn’t blame us – Rachel and I.
“You’ll kill her?” Queen Elissa asked me.
“I promised to bring her head to Lady Morag on a silver platter, and that’s exactly what I intend to do, milady.”
“Good. Make it painful. Make her suffer.” Queen Elissa whispered.
“I will, I promise.” I replied. “She will know no peace. I will avenge your family.”
Queen Elissa nodded, as if that settled things, and motioned for us to enter the castle with her. “Come. We have arrangements to make, and much to talk about. We might as well get started. I don’t know how much strength I have left to offer today.”
We graciously nodded, and followed the Queen. Today, and the next few days, were going to be trying and hard on everyone.
* * *
The night was cool and clear, the rain of the last few days finally gone and dispelled. Queen Elissa stood at the front of the podium, with Rachel, Morag and I at her side, along with Prince William junior, Prince Eacharn and Alyssa, and Lady Tika arrayed behind her. Surrounding us was the cream of the Erevalish Knighthood, as well as the surviving lords of Erevale, come to pay homage to the passing of their king, and his sons.
“As many of you know, King Connor and my sons, Prince William, Prince Roderick, and Prince Lugh lie before us, slain by treachery and poison at the hand of Queen Hemlock – late of Callenden, and since of Clan Gaighmorgan. Their death at her hands has taken from me my husband, my sons – and my strength. Without Connor at my side, I cannot continue to rule Erevale as it needs to be ruled in this time of trouble. As my last, final act as Queen, I commend my husband to Askeline and Isundal, and ask that you honor my wishes, and treat my daughter Morag as your future Queen.”
Queen Elissa paused, and took a breath. “The crisis we find ourselves embroiled in is no fault of King Geoffrey Fowler – Queen Hemlock’s evil would have made itself known in time. Indeed – the only fault lies with the evil Queen who stole my husband – your king – and my family from me. I will remain in court, to advise my daughter Morag, but I cannot lead Erevale from this darkness – I no longer have the strength within me, and I need to mourn. Tonight we are here to say farewell to my Husband, Connor, and my sons William, Lugh and Roderic.” Queen Elissa turned to a priest who waited nearby. “Father Serano, will you please take over?”
“Aye, my Queen.” Kendall, the high priest of Erevale replied. “As we meet tonight to commend the souls of King Connor, and his sons, Prince William, Prince Lugh, and King Roderick to holy Askeline and Isundal, I am reminded of other times of great tribulation and fear in our kingdom’s past. Let us remember the dark days of the reign of King Theodred, and how Erevale emerged unscathed and whole, and stronger than it was before those dark days. Thus are the days we find ourselves in now.”
He took a torch, and approached the bodies of the King and his sons, bedecked in their finest garb. “Askeline, look over these men, and show them your mercy. Guide them to the gates of rose and ivory and help them find their path to the blessed afterlife. Isundal, as we commend these souls to heaven, remember their bravery, and find them a place at your table should they so deserve it. In honor, both in life and in death, I ask these things of you.”
Kendall then lowered the torch to the King’s pyre, and lit the pyre while incanting prayers, repeating them again for Prince William, Prince Lugh, and King Roderick. As the pyres blossomed into flames, he spoke again. “As the smoke of the pyre rises, let it carry these souls to heaven, where they will live with their loved ones, and the gods, until the end of time. Let us say farewell to these great men – and pray together, in the words long taught to us.”
“Father and mother, blessed of the Great Maker, we ask you to watch over the slain, to guard them and to protect them from harm, until their spirits reside safely with you both in heaven. Let your children watch over them as their spirits travel to your realm, and let not the evil spirits that tempt men and women both from the path of justice to not hold sway over them. Carry our prayers, our love, our goodbyes and farewells to their ears, so that they will recall how much they were loved, and let them know that when our time comes, we will find them again, if fate so decides. Let their spirits rest in peace, and happiness, and let your arms surround us and salve the hurts to our spirits and souls, who cry out in loss and grief. Bless us with your grace, and let us find solace in our friends, and family, in our community together, and bring us through this time of darkness. Blessed are the gods, and blessed are the people, their children. So mote it be.”
As the priest stopped speaking, there was a moment of silence, where all we could hear was a few errant sobs, and the crackle of the four pyres before us. We were in the hills west of Erevale – where the kings and queens of Erevale were buried in hill like cairns, hill tombs like the ancient Celts of Earth used to use. As I listened to the crackle of the fire, my thoughts lost in the prayers Father Serano had spoken, it began… A piper began playing a song I didn’t recognize, but which had all the strength and beauty and awesomeness of Amazing Grace back on Earth. It’s lilting tunes, played by a single bagpiper, carried throughout the night – until suddenly the piper was joined by three hundred more… and the song, which had been ethereal and eerie, became a thunderous concert of bagpipes, overwhelming in their tribute to the slain… The music washed over us in a wave – you could feel the force of the music like a physical thing – and it wrapped us in it, carrying our spirits upward with the spirits of the dead and the smoke of the pyres. I couldn’t help it… I cried, and as the tears came from my eyes, I once again thought about how many had sacrificed so much for me – for Rachel and I.
As the last refrain was played, the three hundred pipers fell silent, as the singular piper carried on, the wavering farewell a shadow of the thunderous might of just a few moments before – but all the more poignant for it. As the last strains of music died, the Queen knelt by her husband’s pyre and cried. Morag and I tried to hold firm, but I could tell she was hurting from trying to look strong.
We stayed by the pyres, watching them for a few hours, until Queen Elissa was spent, and we all retired to the palace. The knights standing guard would see the King’s ashes, and his sons’ interred come morning, and the Queen would plant flowers over the door to their cairn in the spring, as was their custom. After seeing Queen Elissa to her chambers, Rachel, Morag, and I said goodnight to everyone, and soon we retired to our quarters as well.