Topic: The Strength To Forgive

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2012-10-25 06:29 EST
The great Abbey of Glastonbury is no more. But, had it survived the Dissolution of the monasteries in the time of Henry VIII, it might have retained some hint of the majesty its sister in Avalon still retained. Built of grey granite, polished and sparkling in the promise of dawn, its sweeping buttresses and high spires by far outstripped any other on the Isle. The Cathedral stood tall and dark in the dawning, the light of dozens of torches within glittering through the stained glass that filled every window. The sounds of chanting came from within, the voices of the monks at prayer to welcome the glory of a new day a gentle counterpoint to the more mundane sounds of people rising and going about their daily business in preparation of their day. Yet even here, in this house of the Christian God, there was a reverence for the Lady who ruled Avalon and the powers she represented that would never have been tolerated on Earth.

Two Handmaidens, garbed in the blue of the darkest night sky, escorted their charge and his companion to this imposing edifice, from the gentle feminine energy of the Temple to the stronger masculinity of the Church. They were joined on the steps by two monks of the Abbey who fell into place in escort, leading the way into the cathedral and along the line of the nave to where a simple set of steps led downward into the crypts below the high altar. And it was here, within this enclosing space that could almost have been the womb of the great building, that the softness of the feminine could be felt once again.

Men and women stood about the small space, garbed variously in armor or gowns, robes or mantles, all of them unarmed but some clearly used to being armed, empty scabbards hanging at their sides. They all faced the altar of this Lady Chapel, before which stood the Lady of Avalon herself, her eyes trained upon the statue of the Virgin Mother of the Christian God, smiling as though she were greeting an old friend. This was where the Grail resided; this was where Rhys would take that final step into the future that had been promised to him.

Rhys was quietly reverant as the Handmaidens escorted him, along with Natalya, to the place where he'd take that final step. If one was to look at his face, they might think he almost content, at peace with the decision he'd made, perhaps lost in thought or vigilant prayer, but nothing could be further from the truth. Still waters run deep, and beneath that facade of serenity, lurked a restless soul, as old as time, facing the uncertainty of an unknown future, no matter what had been promised. Yet this was the way of mortals since time immemorial, trusting in a higher truth, a greater good, putting their faith and trust in a nameless, faceless power they could not understand or prove existed.

As Rhys made his way toward this final step in his initiation to become a Knight, it occurred to him that he was doing that very thing - putting his trust and faith in the Lady, and in a way, in Natalya, in the Divine Feminine, to lead his life from this moment forward. He couldn't help but smile at the irony of that, pride swelling inside him, knowing that not only was he truly human, but despite all his faults and failings, he was special, he was worthy, he was chosen.

The handmaidens and monks led Rhys before the altar, to stand behind the Lady, forming themselves into a sort of honor guard. Natalya, holding her silence in reverence, met Rhys' eyes with a loving gaze before she left him to take her place among those who stood assembled in the chapel, beside a man who bore the distinctive red cross on white that marked him as a Templar.

The Lady, resplendent in shining white and gold, her face veiled beneath a circlet of moonstones, turned from her contemplation of that other lady. Even through the filmy gauze that covered her face, her smile was warm, the ineffable beauty of her being palpable in the flickering torchlight. "Who comes before us all, the counsel of Avalon, and seeks admittance to our ranks?"

Rhys' eyes met Natalya's for a moment, and it seemed something passed between them, some deeper understanding. Despite his nervousness, he offered a reassuring smile, telling her without speaking that everything would be all right. It had to be. He had not come this far to die now. What was the point in that' He watched while she took her place in the chapel, his eyes turning then to the altar and the Lady before him, once again caught off guard by her beauty and by the power that seemed to surround her and radiate from her.

His heart swelled again with a feeling that was close to love, wonder, devotion. He had made this choice freely, willingly, called to duty by a deep sense of destiny and a desire to serve, not unlike those who offered their lives in service to God. He faltered a moment, caught up in the beauty of her presence, before realizing she was addressing him, and he lifted his chin, betraying a small sense of pride. He had not been given a script, and had no way of knowing the proper response, but it was a simple enough question and one he was easily capable of answering. "I do," he answered simply. "Rhys Patrick Bristol," he continued, giving his full name, almost daring anyone to claim he was unworthy.

The smile behind the veil deepened, amused and proud of the challenge that rang forth in his voice as he presented himself to those who were gathered there. "Do you come to us of your own will?" she asked, and though the words were ritual, the question was genuine. She would never tolerate anyone forced to undergo this ordeal of faith.

There was the big question, the one that hung heavily before them, the one upon which the rest of the ceremony rested, knowing from this moment on, his life would never quite be the same. Like those who'd come before him, deep inside he somehow knew he'd been called to a greater destiny than any could have imagined, and though he felt no great sense of pride in the path he'd taken thus far, he, perhaps more than any who had come before him, was worthy of this great honor.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, knowing he was once again offering to sacrifice his life for a greater cause, but also knowing the reward was well worth the risk. "I come of my own free will." There were those words again, words that had haunted him all his life. Free Will versus Destiny, but perhaps, he considered, they were one and the same.

The Lady nodded, reaching out to take his hands, drawing him to the intricately carved marble altar, where an ornate tabernacle of silver and gold stood on a cloth of white. "Few have seen the Grail, and fewer still have drunk from it," she said quietly, but her voice was clearly audible to everyone there as though she were standing directly beside them. "To drink from the Grail is to know yourself, to understand, to forgive. Yet forgiveness is not truly a mortal trait. That we may do so is a gift from those who watch over us. If they can forgive us, then we can forgive ourselves."

Her fingers pressed his very gently before retreating. She turned away, opening the beautiful tabernacle and drawing from its depths the Grail itself. Simple, ancient, it seemed ordinary in her hands, a rounded shape with two handles, cast of pottery and wearing its age. Yet what other vessel would both rich and poor alike have used through the millenia the Grail had been in existence"

The appearance of the Grail didn't really surprise him. Afterall, he'd seen Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade umpteen thousand times. It wasn't the appearance of the Grail that surprised him, but the Lady's words. Could he forgive himself" That seemed to be the matter at the crux of what she was saying. He was certain he'd received divine forgiveness, otherwise he probably wouldn't be standing there, but what of his mother, his father, his sister, and all those whose deaths he'd had a hand in" Could he have saved them' Had he done the right thing" Even if they had forgiven him, could he forgive himself"

His gaze moved from the Grail to the Lady, focusing on her face. She knew his heart, she knew who and what he was and everything he'd ever done, and still she chose to favor him, and suddenly he realized it wasn't the Grail that would find him worthy, but himself. If he believed himself to be worthy, really truly believed it deep inside, than who was there to challenge him"

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2012-10-25 06:37 EST
Holding the Grail with both hands, the Lady turned back to Rhys, urging him to take it into his hands still empty. As the smooth bowl met his skin, a low note sounded through the little chapel, long and steady and never ending, of a timbre to be felt more than heard. It struck deep to the bone of the body, seeming to set every part of a person vibrating just enough that it seemed the world had taken on a new vibrancy. As the note resounded, there was a rustle of movement behind Rhys, and the men and women there assembled lowered themselves to one knee, heads bowed in respect for the power about to be unleashed.

"Stand you ready, Rhys Patrick Bristol, to face the divine in yourself and know forgiveness?" the Lady asked him, quiet and solemn, her voice a melodious counterpoint to the low hum of sound that enveloped the chapel.

He took the Grail carefully in his hands, startled by the hum that reverberated through the chapel and seemed to vibrate through his very being, but not startled enough to drop it or to change his resolve, once more full of wonder and reverence as he regarded the cup - quite possibly the holiest item known to Christianity. Having been raised a Catholic, that fact was not lost on Rhys, and he somehow instinctively knew it was the real thing. He darted a glance at the Lady at her question, a hint of fear or doubt flashing briefly across his face, but again, he'd come too far to back out now, and he couldn't deny that his heart longed for redemption. As ready as I'll ever be, he thought to himself unsure if she could read those thoughts. He wouldn't have been surprised. She seemed to know him as well or even better than he knew himself. "I'm ready," he assured her, drawing a slow breath.

The Lady turned, taking a plain earthenware jug from the altar beside the tabernacle. Pausing just a moment, she looked Rhys in the eye, and despite the veil that clouded that beautiful face from direct view, he could not have mistaken the pride and confidence there as being for anyone but him. She lifted the jug, pouring a little water into the Grail itself, and set the jug down once again, folding her hands at her waist. "Then drink, my brother," she told him, softly enough that only he heard her, "and bring to me a sister to complete our trinity." She nodded to the Grail in his hands and stepped back. The time had come.

He wasn't quite sure what she meant by those words, watching as she filled the Grail with what appeared to be water. He knew it wasn't the water which would deem him worthy, but the Grail itself, or perhaps his own heart. He arched a brow, not quite sure what she meant by her words. What sister" Did she mean Natalya" She must. Were the three of them to form yet another Trinity and for what purpose" To bring a child into the world from whose line a daughter would one day take her place, or was there more to it than that'

He wasn't sure, and there was no time now for questions. They'd have to wait 'til later, if there was a later. If there wasn't, it wouldn't much matter. Over the lips and past the gums, look out stomach, here it comes, he inwardly quipped, too full of respect for the Lady to speak it aloud. Instead, in spite of himself, or because he just couldn't help it, he lifted the cup and met her gaze, somehow seeing past the veil to the eyes he knew were watching his and encouraging him to go on. "Here goes nothing."

He dropped his gaze to the contents of the cup, as if he almost expected the water to turn to wine or some other miraculous feat, but as far as he could tell, it was only water. Tension and nervousness seemed to build inside him with each passing moment, until he couldn't stand it any longer and he lifted the cup to his lips, draining its contents in its entirety.

The liquid that passed his lips was no longer water, but burned with the fragrant taste of the finest cognac, bitter and smooth and the best he would ever taste in this life or any other. It intoxicated and refreshed all at once, spinning out webs of light and flame through his body from the moment it passed his tongue. As the Lady reached out to take the Grail from his hands, those webs of light exploded into sudden unseen flame that engulfed him, dragging before his eyes every deed and thought that he held close in guilt and pain. Could he forgive himself all his transgressions, here and now?

It wasn't bad at first, just a mild almost soothing warmth that always followed the ingestion of liquor, the flavor smooth and pleasing, warmth slowly spreading through his veins and limbs. He wondered for a moment what all the fuss was about, but as soon as the Lady took the cup from his hands, something exploded inside him, fiery flames licking at his insides, like he was being burned at the stake.

Overwhelmed by the force of the flames that seemed to burn him from the inside out, searing his soul, tearing his heart wide open, he fell to his knees, doubling over in agony as the fire burned him open, tearing open and exposing all his secrets, every last act that had ever caused him guilt and grief, starting with the death of his father.

Behind him, Nat let out a shocked gasp, half-rising to her feet. A hand gripped her wrist hard, pulling her back down beside the Grand Master. "No, child," he told her in a low voice. "You cannot help him now." She sank down onto her knees once again, her eyes fixed upon her lover, knowing intimately the pain he was going through. Please, Rhys, she willed her thought to reach him in his agony. Please ....don't give up.

Suddenly, he was that nine year old again, watching himself from somewhere outside himself. He saw his father's eyes, yellow and demonic, an evil sneer twisting up his father's handsome features that were so like his own. He witnessed for the second time in his life an act so horrifying, it had haunted him for the rest of his life, and he saw - from an adult perspective - that there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Nothing he could have done to save his mother, or his father, and that if he hadn't killed his father when he did, he would have been next. He groaned as he watched in witness of the boy he had once been, reliving the horrors of his life and the choices that he'd made one at a time, burdens he hadn't shared with anyone, not even Natalya. All the bitter deaths for which he felt he'd had a part in starting with his parents.

The list was lengthy - Jessie, Dylan, David, Nikki, John, Patrick. Every friend and every foe, mortal or immortal, he saw them all, he relived every moment as if it was happening all over again. "No," he muttered, a barely audible whisper, the emotional pain harder to bear in comparison to that of the physical, until the two seemed to become one, woven together and burning inside him, searing the grief and the guilt like an open wound. There was healing in the fire if only he'd embrace it, accept it, that none of these acts were his fault, but simply lessons and obstacles along the path.

Tears of pain gathered in his eyes - grief and guilt. Fire was cleansing, burning away all the unnecessary pain, until there was only truth. He inhaled sharply, head bowed as he endured the fire of truth, choking on a sob that was stuck in his throat, eyes squeezed tightly shut, unable to banish the faces and events that played across his minds' eye. As each one faded, another took its place until he saw himself boarding an airplane to face the final quest, the culmination of a lifetime. He paused in the aisle as a voice called to him and he turned to find the most beautiful girl smiling up at him, beckoning him to keep her company for just a few hours, and the rest of his life seemed to spin out from that moment.

All of it came together, like an intricate and unique web, all the lives and events interconnected and overlapping, and he saw it could have happened no other way. No other path would have brought him to this place, this moment in time. There he was standing on a mountain, demonstorm raging around them, willing to sacrifice his own life to save all of mankind, and he knew were he to do it all over again, it would still be the same. The end has justified the means, but there was more work to do. He wasn't finished, and this was the next step.

He saw himself in Heaven, all too briefly, resplendent in white and gold, shining with an inner light that could only be described as angelic. He wasn't alone; he was never alone. No one is ever alone, he heard a voice say. You have been given a choice - to be mortal or immortal. It was a fleeting glimpse, melting quickly away, like all the other memories and experiences, his entire life passing before his eyes in a matter of minutes. I chose to come back because of you, he heard himself say. Because I love you.

He was facing a choice once again - to live or to die, to accept all his choices as they'd been made and find peace and forgiveness with himself or to let it destroy him from the inside out, burn him away until there was nothing left. In the end, there was only one choice he could make, and that was to live.

Rhys sagged as the fire seemed to slowly melt away. How long he'd been caught by the searing flames, he didn't know. Somehow he knew he'd caught a glimpse of the torment of Hell in that vision, and he knew that despite the path his life had taken, the end had justified the means. He drew a deep breath, trembling and pale and weak with exhaustion. The worst of it was over and he'd survived.

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2012-10-25 06:47 EST
Slowly, through the fading flame and trembling shock, he became aware of the coolness of gentle hands on his face, urging him to lift his head and meet the gaze of the Lady. The summer blue eyes that looked on him knew all he had seen, all he had felt, and reflected back to him only compassion for the sadnesses of his life. "You have passed through the flame," she told him through a smile that slowly grew with each word she spoke, "and you stand forgiven. Let the past stay past. Look to the future." Her voice lowered for his ears only. "Can you stand, Rhys?"

His face was wet with tears, not from the physical pain but the overwhelming emotional turmoil that was only just subsiding. Lifting his head to look back at the Lady, he drew strength from her touch, from her undeniable faith in him, and he whispered a reply, his voice hoarse in his throat and ragged with weariness. "Yes," he whispered back, forcing himself back to his feet, not even remembering how he'd come to be on his knees.

The Lady rose with him, and throughout the chapel, the gathered representatives of every order and discipline upon the Isle found their own feet, having knelt with Rhys throughout his ordeal. "The Grail has chosen," the Lady intoned. "Let no man, nor woman, come forth to say this man is not worthy. He is one of us, until death release him from his oath."

She raised her head, and the assembled people answered her in one voice. "He is our brother and ally. We honor him."

He found the tears were still coming, overwhelmed now by the bond of brotherhood that was being offered, having felt alone for so long. He wasn't sure what exactly was expected of him next, feeling a little like a buoy adrift at sea, pushed along by the tide of the Lady's words and the ceremony that was taking place around him and because of him.

"Courage, brother," the quieter tone meant only for him murmured. "There is not so much more now."

Suppressing her smile, the Lady finally released his hands, her eyes scanning the group before her, and gestured for one among them to come forward. In a rustle of skirts, Natalya answered that summons, moving swiftly to his side. She had watched in an agony of helplessness as he suffered through his burdens alone, wishing she could help him find that forgiveness but knowing only he could help himself. Now that he stood again, and she knew he was safe, tears of relief and joy had stained her face, her arms aching just to hold him. But the oath had not yet been taken, the ceremony not yet complete. She raised her eyes to the Lady, and waited, trembling herself in anticipation of a prophesy fulfilled.

He drew another deep breath to calm the tumult of emotions waging inside him, not the least of which was relief. He had face a trial by fire and survived. He wiped a hand across his face to dry the tears, suddenly aware the he was no longer alone, that Natalya had joined him, ever by his side, even when her presence was not a physical one. Struggling to fight the tumult of emotions, knowing the worst of it was over, he reached for her hand, linking his fingers with her, though he dared not yet look her way.

When next she spoke, the Lady's voice rang out, clear and unshakeable, as possessive as the hands she laid upon the heads of the man and woman stood before her. "These two I claim for my service," she declared to the gathered assembly. A slightly strangled sound made itself known from the Grand Master of the Templars, who evidently had not been expecting this. No doubt he would be compensated for this loss to his own order. "Together, Rhys Patrick Bristol and Natalya Anastasia Pimenova will bring about something of great importance to us all. Therefore, they are mine, and I ask them now to swear it."

Her hands lowered from their heads, pausing to tilt their faces up to her once more. "Natalya, do you renounce your allegiance to the Poor Knights of the Temple of Avalon?"

Nat drew in a breath, wrapping her trembling fingers tight about Rhys' hand as he reached for her, her brown eyes fixed upon the Lady's face with unquestioning devotion. "I do, Lady."

"And do you swear your life to the service of the Lady of Avalon, whatever may be asked of you?"

Again, Nat swallowed and took a breath, but she nodded, holding herself as tall as she could. "I swear it, Lady."

The Lady's smile made itself known for a moment, approving of the courage it had taken to renounce and swear before the Grand Master. Her gaze turned to Rhys, and the smile faded once more as the ritual words came to her lips. "Rhys, do you swear your life to the service of the Lady of Avalon, whatever may be asked of you?"

Rhys could almost feel the tension in the room and the disappointment of the Grand Master, but this was what had been foretold them both and promised the Lady. Once bound by their oath, there would be no undoing it. Still shaking though he was, Rhys gave Natalya's hand a gentle squeeze while she made her vows, letting her wordlessly know that he was there for her and always would be, that they were in this together. Once again, though sure of his anwer, he was unsure there was any offical verbiage required, and he nodded his head in reply before finding his voice. "I swear it," he echoed Natalya's vow.

The Lady's lips quirked into what could have been termed a smile of unexpected mischief. "Then I name you, Rhys, Champion of Avalon, and you, Natalya, Priestess of Avalon." Ignoring the collective shock that resounded from those gathered around them, she opened her palms, and on each there appeared in a sparkle of light intricately tooled symbols of the Lady and Avalon in silver. "Take your tokens and know that you are blessed."

He wasn't quite sure what the reason was behind the collectively shocked gasps behind them and for the moment, he didn't care. What had been done was done, for better or for worse, and he couldn't help but smile and straighten proudly at the title that had bestowed upon him, whatever it meant, as well as the title given Natalya. He reached to pluck a pendant from the Lady's palm and turning to Natalya, completely on impulse and with as much ceremony as he could muster given the gravity of his ordeal, he slipped the chain around her neck, allowing the amulet to lay against her heart.

"Know that I love you with all my heart and soul and breath, Natalya, and I vow to protect and cherish you all the days of my life." The vow was said quietly, for hers and the Lady's ears alone, his voice soft and steady despite the emotion behind the words. He was not only making a vow to the Lady but to the woman who would one day bear the child from whose line would come the Lady's of Avalon's successor.

His impulsive oath rendered Natalya completely speechless, closing her throat against any words she might have said to echo his promise. But those words were there, writ large in the shimmering darkness of her eyes, as she took the second pendant, reaching up to fasten it about his neck. Her gaze never left his, drawing her silence close and wrapping it about him, trembling in the knowledge that something earth-shatteringly important had taken place, with them at the center of it.

A stern voice from the gathering began, "But, Lady, those roles -" The man fell silent under a sharp glance from the Lady herself, a look that dared him to challenge her before the Grail itself. She let the moment hang, proving that already her Champion and Priestess were under her protection. When, finally, an apology was offered, she smiled to accept it, allowing the assembled dignitaries and leaders to go.

Her gaze turned to the couple standing before her. "You must eat," she told both Rhys and Nat gently, "and rest. Joyeuse must be delivered to the hand of the Grand Master. But when you are ready, come to me at the Chalice Well, and I will answer your questions."

Her gaze slipped to the doorway, where the last of the monks had just stepped out of view, and in a wildly impulsive gesture of her own, the Lady of Avalon enveloped both Rhys and Nat in a brief, but warm embrace. "Thank you," she whispered to them, two words laden with the hopes and heartache of centuries. Stepping back, she released them with a smile, and slowly faded from sight, returning to the Chalice Well at the center of the Temple, the garden where she dwelt all her days.

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2012-10-25 06:55 EST
Rhys wasn't completely sure what had just come to pass, but it seemed not everyone in Avalon was happy or satisfied with what had just taken place. He sensed an underlying current of shock and disappointment and perhaps even jealousy ripple through those gathered, even as they dispersed, and he wondered if he'd crossed some unwritten boundary line or broken some unknown rule. Whatever it was that had happened, it seemed the Lady was pleased with them and that was all that mattered. Startled by the Lady's embrace - the second he'd been privy to in the last day or so - he was at a loss for words, absorbing what she was telling them, but unable to reply. He watched as she quietly departed, making a mental note of her promise. Questions he had and plenty of them, perhaps more now than ever before.

Once they'd been left alone, he let himself relax, the weariness setting in. "What just happened?" he asked Natalya, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears, distant. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I ..." Nat shook her head, as confused as he was by the reactions and actions that had taken place around them in the last minutes. Her hands enfolded his as she frowned thoughtfully. "I do not know," she said finally. "I have never known there to be a Champion of Avalon, or a Priestess. Perhaps they are titles so old no one ever thought they would be given again." She shrugged, looking into his face. "You did nothing wrong, dusha moya."

"She said the Knights would be disappointed by her decision," he told her. That much had been obvious, but it seemed that something more was going on here, than the mere passing of a baton from one Lady to another. Something important, but he was too weary to think too hard about it right now. He smiled faintly, feeling as weak as a baby, but relieved it was over. "It's over, Nat. I made it," he declared proudly, even as his legs buckled beneath him and he teetered precariously, catching her arm to steady himself.

She gasped as he faltered, lurching close to wrap her arms about his waist, offering him her strength to lean on. "Come, Rhys, you must rest," she told him, beginning to turn him toward the steps. "We should return to our rooms so you can sleep." She smiled at his proud expression, more deeply glad than she could say at his accession. "I am very proud of you, dusha moya. And so pleased. I am glad you were not defeated."

"I'm okay," he reassured her, though he allowed her to help him, letting her take as much of his weight as he dared. "Just tired. Feel like I could sleep for a week." He laughed even as he said it, knowing that if that's what he wanted, the Lady would more than likely grant it to him. As weak as he was, his heart felt light as a feather, as though some great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he wondered if there had been some healing in the flames or if the Lady had somehow lifted some burden from him. "What happened, Nat' It all happened so fast."

She laughed softly with him, quietly apologising to a veiled nun who stepped down into the chapel as they moved to leave. "I do not truly know," Natalya admitted, pausing to watch the old woman kneel before the altar, wondering why she should touch a kiss to the stylised sword that was carved into the very stone itself. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she turned back to Rhys, guiding him up the steps and into the cathedral above them. "The Grail showed you the burdens you carry and under its power, you let them go. I do not know how, or why it works. I only know that it does."

"I wonder if she took them on herself," he remarked, more to himself than to her, as he cast a vaguely interested glance to the old woman who moved past them. Though he knew what had happened was important and would set in motion events that would eventually free the Lady from her long years of servitude, he wasn't quite seeing the full implications of it yet. Too weary to think on it much more, he let her lead him out of the chapel and up the stairs, wondering if he had the strength to make the trek back up the hill to the solitude of their room.

"Perhaps she did," Nat murmured, her gaze lingering longer upon the aged nun now seated on a stone pew, her lips moving in private benediction. Relying on Rhys to at least keep his feet moving, she drew him up and out of the cathedral, into the warm morning sunshine. The dawn had cast liquid gold to caress the Isle with warmth and light this morning, a fine welcome to Avalon's newest sworn soul. As her eyes adjusted, Nat kept them on their course, ignoring the curious looks from those of the counsel of Avalon who had remained to see them in daylight. "We cannot rest all day," she added as her bare feet found the packed earth of the road. "The Grand Master will be expecting us, and the Lady, too. And you must eat something."

"I know," he replied, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to keep one foot moving in front of the other. "I'll be okay. Just need to lay down for a while. Feel like....I don't know. Drained." He wondered if she'd felt the same way after her own ordeal. "Nat..." He started, catching a few curious glances that were being cast their way. "They're staring."

"I know," she murmured to him, as aware as he was of those eyes on them, grateful that none of those gazes were hostile. "I do not know why." She tucked her arm more securely about his back, drawing him further away from the Abbey and the watchers gathered about the steps of the cathedral. "I think there is more to this than the Lady told you."

"What more is there?" he asked, not quite able to wrap his head around all of it just yet, as groggy as he felt. "We're basically Adam and Eve to her successor. She chose us." Another thought came to mind as he mentioned those names, and he groaned, but not in pain or fatigue. "What am I supposed to tell Adam' He's gonna think I'm nuts," he said with a worried frown. "He already thinks I'm nuts. I told him I'd call him back days ago."

Natalya laughed at his groaning concern, rolling her eyes as they passed from the dust of the road to the clean freshness of the Temple gardens. "I would think that is the least of your worries for now, my love," she chuckled softly, pausing to look up at the hill where they had slept the night before. There was no way she was going to be able to get him up there before he collapsed. Looking around, she chose a direction and headed that way, hoping to find a relatively secluded place to let him rest. "You can call him when we return to Earth. And you can ask the Lady what you should tell him."

"You don't know Adam," he remarked, though clearly she did. Adam had been to Gavarnie. He had been the third part of the Triad. He knew what had happened there and he knew Rhys better than anyone. Rhys paused with Natalya, following her gaze up the hill, chewing thoughtfully at his lip, doubtful he'd make it back up that hill without collapsing. It seemed she thought the same thing as she was veering off and leading him in another direction. "Where are we going?" he asked as he dragged himself along beside her.

"Somewhere quiet that does not involve a hill to get to," she told him with a faint smile, hugging both arms fondly about his waist as they walked. Now the solemnity of ritual was over, she was relaxing fully, the greatest danger already over and done with. One step closer to the promised future. Their steps took them along one of the winding paths, toward a thicket of trees, from within which came the sound of trickling water. "I am not strong enough to carry you to bed, I am afraid."

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2012-10-25 07:02 EST
"You don't have to carry me," he protested, though they both knew he lacked the strength to make it back up that hill, at least until he got a little rest. "Did it take this much out of you?" he asked curiously, as full of questions as a child on Christmas Eve. He'd known it was going to be difficult, but he didn't think he'd find it so draining.

Her laugh made itself known once again as they picked their way between the trees, toward a free standing stone that trickled water into a pool in the dappling of sunshine and shadow thrown down from the canopy above. "I passed out," she told him, unashamed to share this. "I had to be brought around to take my oath, and even then I was unconscious before the company assembled could welcome me. I woke up in the Grand Master's study, with him sitting beside me. He was worried, I think, that he might have broken me already."

He'd wonder at the calm and serenity of this place later, when he woke up. For now, he only wanted to set his limbs down on the cool grass, close his eyes, and soak up the quiet. "The Grand Master," he echoed with a frown as he followed her lead. "He's not going to be too pleased with you, is he?"

She paused, turning to ease Rhys down onto the soft mingling of moss and grass that covered the earth beside the pool. "He is not so forbidding as he seems," she promised him. "Once he is over the shock of what has happened, he will welcome you. He has a great love for the Lady that he believes no one can see, but he will not hold that against you. He is wiser than he appears."

"Why would he hold it against me?" Rhys asked, reaching out to catch himself as he dropped onto the cool, soft ground. "We love her, too. She's easy to love." He said it without thinking, blunt but honest. Though he hardly knew her, he held the Lady in the highest regard and had felt her burgeoning fondness for him and for Natalya, like two children she had chosen to take under her wing. "Do they know what I am, Nat' What I was?" he asked, correcting himself, having to remind himself that he wasn't an angel anymore. At least, he didn't think so.

"No, Rhys," she sighed softly, lowering to sit with him, stroking her fingers against his cheek. "He loves her, as I love you. As a man loves a woman. And the same jealousies plague him." She smiled very gently, sad for the aging man in love with an ageless woman who could never love him as he wished for. "No one will know unless you tell them," she assured him in answer to his second questions. "Only the Lady knew without needing to ask."

"Oh," he replied, frowning at the realization that the love the Grand Master had for the Lady was that of a man for a woman. He wasn't quite sure what to think of that. Though he felt some kind of love stirring for the Lady, his heart belonged to Natalya. He leaned back against a tree, as if he needed its support to hold him upright. "She's sacrificed everything to be what she is," he said quietly, realizing the Grand Master had most likely made that same sacrifice, though his life was short in comparison to hers.

"Everyone who holds any kind of power in Avalon has to make great sacrifices," Nat told him quietly. "The Abbot of the Abbey - he will never see the Vatican, the Holy City of his faith, or hear the voice of his Pope. The Oracle of the Faithful hears the words of her god, but she will never again hear a human voice raised in joy or sadness, nor see the ones who care for her. The Grand Master of the Templars took his place at the request of the Lady, and he leads them to moderation, he cools the lust for war. But he can never simply love her and be loved in return. He cannot even partake in Beltane, in the hope of being chosen as her consort for one night. The power of Avalon cannot be wielded by anyone who is not willing to give everything."

Her explanation begged more questions, and now that he had settled himself on the ground and relaxed, he felt the questions whirling around and cluttering his already groggy brain. "What about us?" he asked with a frown. "What are we sacrificing?" It seemed to him that they were gaining far more than they were sacrificing. Though he knew they had just vowed their lives in service to the Lady, he did not believe she would ever ask anything of them that they were no willing to give. Freedom' Wordly possessions" Family' Friends" Hamburgers" He wasn't quite sure what sacrifices they were expected to make.

"Nothing so very much as all that, I do not think," she smiled faintly, settling her back against the same tree he rested against himself, her fingers toying with his. "We are not taking power, but becoming the servants of the greatest power on the Isle." She shrugged lightly. "I don't know, Rhys. I am not the Lady, I do not have her insights."

He linked his fingers to hers, glanced at their clasped hands thoughtfully before returning his gaze to her. "It doesn't matter. I'm with you. I love you, and that's all that matters." He raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to her hand, before leaning back with a sigh and letting his eyes drift closed. "Best damned cognac I ever tasted," he muttered with a sleepy smile. "Burned like hell though."

Her head turned to watch as his eyes fell closed, her lips curving into a tender smile. "Lean on me, dusha moya," she murmured to him, shifting close in the quiet. "I won't let anyone disturb you."

"Mmm," he muttered sleepily, leaning sideways to settle against her, too weary to argue or resist, letting her draw him close however she wanted him. Struggling against sleep and losing the fight, he muttered groggily, "Love you, dusha..." He trailed off as he surrendered himself to the Sandman.

With a slow smile, Natalya drew him close until he lay sprawled over the grass, his head and shoulders cushioned in her lap, her fingers combing gently through his hair in a soothing rhythm as he slept. How long she sat there, she could not really have said. Long enough for the sun to have climbed into the eastern sky toward noon and warm the air of the Isle. Long enough for her body to have grown a little stiff in one position, unnoticed as her mind wandered back to her own ordeal by fire and the burden of guilt she had accumulated in the years since then.

Part of her wished to drink from the Grail again, to be forgiven for the deaths of her father and brother, for the punishment her vengeance had meted out upon her father's soul and the darkness that vengeance had spread into Rhys' heart. But she knew she would never be forgiven like that again in her lifetime. It was up to her to move on from that past and look to the future, to the happiness that had been promised them in return for their service. It was easy to imagine those children of vision, a girl and boy, playing here about them while their father slept. Natalya found herself smiling in the midst of her thoughts, lulled by the trickle of water close by and the regular cadence of Rhys' breath. The first step had been taken, and it was the first step that was the hardest. From here, they would walk together, in the Lady's name.

((Another awesome scene that I loved playing! Isn't this going well" As always, humungus thanks to Rhys' player! Couldn't be doing this without you!))