The afternoon passed into evening and evening into night, darkness falling as gently as a soft blanket over the hillside and the pair of lovers, both of them lost in dreams, resting peacefully in each other's arms, until a few hours before dawn when Rhys awoke, feeling restless. He brushed a kiss against Nat's brow as he eased out of her embrace, the solemn knowledge of what awaited him in the coming hours heavy upon his heart, despite the near certainty he'd survive it. He quietly drew on his jeans and shirt, leaving his feet bare and stepped outside into the night, looking first to the sky above him where the stars twinkled down like diamonds and the moon washed the world in silvery light, then to the village below, which, like Nat, was peacefully resting, torchlight flickering in the distance, proof that he and Nat were not really alone.
It wasn't fear he was feeling so much as the weight of responsibility, a familiar feeling after all these years. Despite what the lady had told him, it would be up to the Grail to determine whether or not he was worthy, and he knew it was very likely a matter of life or death, but he had not come all this way for nothing, and he believed that in the coming hours, he would come face to face with his true destiny. Lowering himself to the grass cool with dew, he sat quietly contemplating his life, all that had gone before and all that had been promised for the future, a quiet peace settling over him as he accepted the fate and the task that had been offered and promised.
He closed his eyes in quiet contemplation, thinking over how all his life seemed to have lead to this very moment, teetering on the precipice of enlightenment. Although he didn't remember it, he'd offered himself up once before because of love, not only because of his angelic love for humanity but from the deep desire to know human love, to love and be loved in return. He had offered himself up once again because of love, this time for the love of a woman and the children they had been promised, and because of another woman who had also made a sacrifice many centuries ago, sacrificing her humanity for the greater good, or so he surmised. Touched by such a sacrifice and moved by compassion the depths of which he barely understood, he longed to ease her suffering and by doing so, to ensure the safety of his own beloved and the longevity of their line of offspring. Consciously, he only understood all of this on a human level, but somewhere beneath all that, there was a part of him that transcended the conscious, that seemed to understand that no matter what doubts the human part of his self might have, this was exactly where he belonged and where he was meant to be.
In the bed he had left, Natalya stirred, bare limbs stretching out from beneath thin sheets as she rose from the enveloping depths of slumber to find herself alone. Her hand groped blindly for him, encountering only cool cloth, a testament to the length of time he had been absent from her arms, and a slow frown touched her brow as her eyes came open. She knew that in Avalon he could not abandon her as he had done before, that he could not find danger here no matter how foolish he might be, but still ....to awaken to a cold bed and no sound of him close by brought a thump to her heart that was only too reminiscent of Rouen and another such awakening not so very long ago. Drawing the thin sheet about herself, respectful enough of her surroundings here not to flaunt her habitual immodesty, she slid from the bed, her gaze seeking him through the moonlit darkness. "Rhys?"
He heard her voice calling to him from behind him, not realizing she might awake and worry where he'd gone. He'd promised never to leave her again, and it was a promise he meant to keep. "Out here," he called loud enough for her to hear him, but soft enough not to shatter the still of the night. He didn't bother to turn around, knowing she'd join him soon enough, relishing the peace and quiet of the short time left to them before the break of dawn, wanting to absorb it all, soak it in, remember it, just in case the worst did come to pass.
He knew her well, despite the relatively little they had shared with one another of their pasts. His call drew her from the cool stone and out onto the dewy grass, to lower herself down beside him, wrapped only in that sheet, her hair a wayward flow over her shoulders. Her cheek found rest against his shoulder, drawing the quiet around him once again as she gazed over the sleeping valley. In a few hours, Avalon would awaken, and the day would begin, but for now she could believe that time had stopped to give her precious peace to share with the man she loved.
"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked softly, not wishing to break the silence but unable to keep her fear upon waking entirely secret. "You know I would rather be restless with you than peaceful without you."
He didn't have to glance aside to know she had joined him, almost sensing her approach as much as hearing and feeling it. He drew an arm around her as she settled herself against his shoulder, both of them looking out on the quiet sleeping valley before them. There was still so much they didn't know about each other, and there was no time to share it all now in the few hours they had left. None of it really seemed to matter, and yet it did. He needed her to understand before he drank from that cup just how much she really meant to him, how deeply he loved her. "I was feeling restless, and I didn't want to wake you," he told her quietly and honestly, and in all truth, he needed a few minutes alone to think and prepare himself for what lay ahead. "What happened when you drank from the Chalice, Nat?" he asked suddenly, abruptly, letting her see that despite his certainty, there was a trace of mortal fear.
Curled into his side, she allowed his question to sink into herself, not wanting to do him a disservice with a hasty answer but equally not wishing to hold the silence too long. She could well remember her own fear in the hours leading to her initiation, the terror that had gripped her heart, and though they were both close to certain that there was no danger to him, there was still that outside chance that something might not have been taken into account.
"It seems like such a small thing," she said quietly, dropping her hand to his thigh, holding onto him as he held onto her in the cricket-song night. "I remember that the water I had seen poured into the cup tasted of the finest wine, cool and refreshing to me in my terror. And I remember being warmed through, feeling as though I were burning, as though every part of me had been set alight, as though I was being cleansed of all my past sin. I will not lie to you - the pain was the worst I have ever felt. But in the midst of that pain, the Lady took my hand, and suddenly the flame was gone. I felt strong and clean, and I knew I had been forgiven." She shook her head. "I am sorry, dusha moya, this is not very clear, is it?"
His head did turn toward her now, green eyes shining in the moonlight, bright with life and longing. There were no tears now - he was long past tears - and very little real fear, more a feeling of nervous excitement, anxious expectation of the unknown. "You were cleansed?" he asked, brows arching questioningly. He had long felt the weight of guilt upon his heart for all the sins and mistakes and failings of his past, starting with the death of his father, still haunted by that night even after all these years and the fact that he hadn't been able to save his mother.
"That is what the Grail does," she told him simply. "It cleanses you of what has gone before. Not all survive that cleansing - it is ordeal by spiritual fire. Some die, some are driven mad. Some rise from the flames renewed, and in that rising, they are bound to Avalon by the touch of the Grail. At that moment, you will be taken into the Lady's service and asked to repeat the vow you have already made. And you will be hers."
It wasn't fear he was feeling so much as the weight of responsibility, a familiar feeling after all these years. Despite what the lady had told him, it would be up to the Grail to determine whether or not he was worthy, and he knew it was very likely a matter of life or death, but he had not come all this way for nothing, and he believed that in the coming hours, he would come face to face with his true destiny. Lowering himself to the grass cool with dew, he sat quietly contemplating his life, all that had gone before and all that had been promised for the future, a quiet peace settling over him as he accepted the fate and the task that had been offered and promised.
He closed his eyes in quiet contemplation, thinking over how all his life seemed to have lead to this very moment, teetering on the precipice of enlightenment. Although he didn't remember it, he'd offered himself up once before because of love, not only because of his angelic love for humanity but from the deep desire to know human love, to love and be loved in return. He had offered himself up once again because of love, this time for the love of a woman and the children they had been promised, and because of another woman who had also made a sacrifice many centuries ago, sacrificing her humanity for the greater good, or so he surmised. Touched by such a sacrifice and moved by compassion the depths of which he barely understood, he longed to ease her suffering and by doing so, to ensure the safety of his own beloved and the longevity of their line of offspring. Consciously, he only understood all of this on a human level, but somewhere beneath all that, there was a part of him that transcended the conscious, that seemed to understand that no matter what doubts the human part of his self might have, this was exactly where he belonged and where he was meant to be.
In the bed he had left, Natalya stirred, bare limbs stretching out from beneath thin sheets as she rose from the enveloping depths of slumber to find herself alone. Her hand groped blindly for him, encountering only cool cloth, a testament to the length of time he had been absent from her arms, and a slow frown touched her brow as her eyes came open. She knew that in Avalon he could not abandon her as he had done before, that he could not find danger here no matter how foolish he might be, but still ....to awaken to a cold bed and no sound of him close by brought a thump to her heart that was only too reminiscent of Rouen and another such awakening not so very long ago. Drawing the thin sheet about herself, respectful enough of her surroundings here not to flaunt her habitual immodesty, she slid from the bed, her gaze seeking him through the moonlit darkness. "Rhys?"
He heard her voice calling to him from behind him, not realizing she might awake and worry where he'd gone. He'd promised never to leave her again, and it was a promise he meant to keep. "Out here," he called loud enough for her to hear him, but soft enough not to shatter the still of the night. He didn't bother to turn around, knowing she'd join him soon enough, relishing the peace and quiet of the short time left to them before the break of dawn, wanting to absorb it all, soak it in, remember it, just in case the worst did come to pass.
He knew her well, despite the relatively little they had shared with one another of their pasts. His call drew her from the cool stone and out onto the dewy grass, to lower herself down beside him, wrapped only in that sheet, her hair a wayward flow over her shoulders. Her cheek found rest against his shoulder, drawing the quiet around him once again as she gazed over the sleeping valley. In a few hours, Avalon would awaken, and the day would begin, but for now she could believe that time had stopped to give her precious peace to share with the man she loved.
"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked softly, not wishing to break the silence but unable to keep her fear upon waking entirely secret. "You know I would rather be restless with you than peaceful without you."
He didn't have to glance aside to know she had joined him, almost sensing her approach as much as hearing and feeling it. He drew an arm around her as she settled herself against his shoulder, both of them looking out on the quiet sleeping valley before them. There was still so much they didn't know about each other, and there was no time to share it all now in the few hours they had left. None of it really seemed to matter, and yet it did. He needed her to understand before he drank from that cup just how much she really meant to him, how deeply he loved her. "I was feeling restless, and I didn't want to wake you," he told her quietly and honestly, and in all truth, he needed a few minutes alone to think and prepare himself for what lay ahead. "What happened when you drank from the Chalice, Nat?" he asked suddenly, abruptly, letting her see that despite his certainty, there was a trace of mortal fear.
Curled into his side, she allowed his question to sink into herself, not wanting to do him a disservice with a hasty answer but equally not wishing to hold the silence too long. She could well remember her own fear in the hours leading to her initiation, the terror that had gripped her heart, and though they were both close to certain that there was no danger to him, there was still that outside chance that something might not have been taken into account.
"It seems like such a small thing," she said quietly, dropping her hand to his thigh, holding onto him as he held onto her in the cricket-song night. "I remember that the water I had seen poured into the cup tasted of the finest wine, cool and refreshing to me in my terror. And I remember being warmed through, feeling as though I were burning, as though every part of me had been set alight, as though I was being cleansed of all my past sin. I will not lie to you - the pain was the worst I have ever felt. But in the midst of that pain, the Lady took my hand, and suddenly the flame was gone. I felt strong and clean, and I knew I had been forgiven." She shook her head. "I am sorry, dusha moya, this is not very clear, is it?"
His head did turn toward her now, green eyes shining in the moonlight, bright with life and longing. There were no tears now - he was long past tears - and very little real fear, more a feeling of nervous excitement, anxious expectation of the unknown. "You were cleansed?" he asked, brows arching questioningly. He had long felt the weight of guilt upon his heart for all the sins and mistakes and failings of his past, starting with the death of his father, still haunted by that night even after all these years and the fact that he hadn't been able to save his mother.
"That is what the Grail does," she told him simply. "It cleanses you of what has gone before. Not all survive that cleansing - it is ordeal by spiritual fire. Some die, some are driven mad. Some rise from the flames renewed, and in that rising, they are bound to Avalon by the touch of the Grail. At that moment, you will be taken into the Lady's service and asked to repeat the vow you have already made. And you will be hers."