moonlight_revels | (no subject)

(no subject)

In a wood that is both more tenebrous and luminous than woods are wont to be, there is a copse where the trees huddle close together, whispering secrets each to each. There hang thick tendrils of ivy and honeysuckle, mingling their scent with the crisping night air, and the grass is soft and dewy underfoot.

The Queen of the Fairies, proud Titania, stands waiting in the moonlight.

She does not particularly like to be kept waiting.

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You do not last in service to Royalty without learning to be prompt; therefore Hellebore's timing is exact as his arrival is quiet, shifting from darkness to shadow to just in the shade, and kneeling before the Queen.

"Lady."

"Hellebore. Well met."

The slightest of smiles touches her lips, and her fingers brush out nearly to his jaw before withdrawing.

Thinking better of it, perhaps.

"I crave a word, dear knight. But first-- have you any report to give?"

"Your realm is quiet, Lady, and your followers content."

Hellebore keeps his head bowed, waiting.

If propriety demands abasement before those higher than he, it has never concerned him very much.

"Good."

Her smile widens, and she bends to take his hands in hers, drawing him to his feet.

"'Tis on the subject of followers I would speak, roundabout." She releases him and steps back. "You know we have been some time in sweeping up the dust from our late misfortunes. The shadows that plagued our woods have retreated below the earth, and all things return to their custom."

"Aye, I know, Lady."

He smiles back at her - still as deferential as is proper, of course.

"Speak, and I listen."

"It is all most well done-- yet leaves a matter that plagues my heart."

Titania pauses a moment; for thought, or to assess him silently, or because the trees have ears.

(They do, of course. Most things in Faerie do.)

"There are," she says slowly, "despite our efforts, some few from one or other of the courts who roam the wild world. It is not meet to leave them to such pursuits, when their proper place is here."

Hellebore's eyelids flicker deliberately downward, then up again.

The Queen's concerns seem quite in line with his own, at this time. And while he has to wonder why, it will both be no great hardship and wise to follow this line of thought to where he fervently hopes it may lead.

"I must agree, my Queen."

"I am glad."

She smiles, too faint to be really pleased, and too sharp to be truly compassionate.

"For there is one who wanders especially far. I fear me he has lost his way entirely."

"Ah," Hellebore smiles again.

"I believe I am aware of the one. You are most likely right, I fear."

The queen inclines her head.

"I know a place," she says.

"Which is called the end of all things, where the stars spin out of their spheres and dance themselves to madness. I have been there myself, to parley with my sometime lord."

And sometimes just for drinks, but it doesn't seem properly dramatic to mention it now.

Hellebore's gaze sharpens, just a little.

He is sworn to his Lady's service, no matter how or why - but that does not mean he cannot have scores of his own to settle.

"He hides there?"

"I last met him there," she demurs.

"And he said then that he would stay. 'Tis seven years now since that time, and I believe him there still, skulking like an exile."

"Coward," Hellebore murmurs, eyes bright.

"It is past time he should have returned."

Not that he should have left in the first place, although Hellebore was never all that distressed by his absence.

"I have a task for you, if you will mark."

"Always, Lady."

Particularly if it is of the nature he suspects.

She smiles slightly.

"It is better if this matter were dealt with delicately, by those who know him best-- yet know my will as well. I entrust his return to you, Hellebore."

She winds tapered fingers through her long hair.

"I must needs be gone some time; mayhap to India. I shan't be overlong."

Hellebore would laugh if he were the type - instead, he only smiles his pleasure.

"I shall have this matter settled, and await your return with all possible speed, my Queen," he says.

"Wonderful."

Titania's fingers twirl and wind, sunk in the glossy dark of her hair; when at last she lifts her hands away, she has in them a single, long strand twisted into a coil.

"Persuade him if you can. Matters are different now, are they not, now that we are united? There is no need any longer for enmity or flight."

"Oh, of a certainty, Lady," Hellebore smiles, teeth flashing very white in the soft gloom of the forest.

...

Curses.

On the whole, Titania could have fared worse when it comes to lieutenants.

Hellebore's placement in her court is calculated, of course, but he does so well.

"Take this token for your task," she says, extending one luminous arm to proffer the strand of hair.

"I trust it shall be useful in my absence."

Hellebore raises both hands to accept the gift with reverence and not a little cupidity, eyes agleam.

"I am most honoured, my Queen," he says.

Useful indeed.

Her lips draw up into a smile.

"I have no doubt your work will please me well."

And if not, well--

Hellebore doesn't want to think about if not, we're sure.

Negative thinking never got anybody anywhere.

"To your task, then," the queen concludes.

"I'll away before the dawn."

"Ay, Lady. I am quite determined that it shall."

And the odds have just recently narrowed.

Considerably.

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