Topic: The Tale of the Fawn

Fawne

Date: 2010-01-28 12:13 EST
Born was she to parents rich and strong: Sir Leoline and Lady Brigidette.
Their worth was the stuff of legend, their love the very soul of poetry set.
But tragedy would strike their love asunder
As Lady Bridgedette succumbed to a disease?s plunder.
Upon the deathbed, a witch appeared and whispered sweet nothings upon her ear.
The warrior nature of her son and husband left her cold with fear.
Convinced she was, neigh enchanted would be a more apt stance,
And with her dying breath she wished for a daughter of obedience.
Her precious sweet Aribet, but a babe in arms,
A lady pure and sweet, who in displeasing others would find harm.
Her desire was pure, the wish to see her husband and son well-kept
But cursed her words fell and all inhibitions were surely swept.

As a child she had been fair and sweet, moved to tears by another?s distress, moved to pure joy at another?s pleasure. So quick was she to give that it wasn?t long before those who loved her discovered that she had no cognizance of self-infliction. Pain and suffering , going without food, being injured, none provoked even the slightest hint of hesitation as she sought to bring happiness to those around her. Doe eyes and a delicate nature earned her the name Fawn.

Sir Leoline the Second was a young man who inherited his mother?s beauty and his father?s indomitable will. His skill on the battlefield and the tourney rounds was heralded far and wide, his conquest of hearts only marred by his constant concern for his little sister. Her delicate nature brought the predators by the plenty and he soon discovered the need to keep her protected from any others. A walled garden was built for her to play in, but only those with pure intent were allowed near her, for in her eagerness to please she enticed even the chivalric to take advantage of her in small ways.

Called away to battle, the young Leoline left her in the care of their father.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 14:15 EST
(Christabel, Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock
And the owls have awakened the crowing cock;
Tu-whit!- Tu-whoo!
And hark, again! the crowing cock,
How drowsily it crew.
Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,
Hath a toothless mastiff, which
From her kennel beneath the rock
Maketh answer to the clock,
Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;
Ever and aye, by shine and shower,
Sixteen short howls, not over loud;
Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.

Baron de Montesquieu sat back in his seat and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. The maps before him, along with the long lists of supply lines and correspondence between allies, had long ago begun to blur. His concern for his son had mounted exponentially with the surprising shifts between feudal lines. The young Leoline had good men at his back, loyal men, who remained true despite their increasingly dire situation. This uprising had been planned well, each detail hammered out between a union of barons determined to do right by their people; yet, so much had gone wrong in so short a time, it was as if they were cursed. And now his nephew, lay dead. The young man had been a certain fit for the throne they sought to throw a tyrant from.

The senior Leoline tapped his signet ring against the last missive to arrive at his desk via the enchanted falcons they used to communicate across vast distances. He knew what they asked was the next logical step, but he had no desire to be king. No desire to rule. But with his nephew dead and his brother aged, he would fit the needs of the people and there was Leo to consider. His son would make a good king, a decent ruler.

The bawling of the mastiff hound would startle him from his thoughts and musings. The old dog had been his wife?s, a part of her dowry. A well-trained beast that had produced litters of strong and able guard dogs that saw into the hearts and souls of those around them. Upon knighthood he had gifted every one of his retainers with one of her offspring: the loyal hounds bonding with the men and serving them throughout life with their keen senses and ferocious attacks.

Even toothless and nearly blind, the hound guarded his gates and forewarned him of incoming danger. Rising from his seat to investigate her howl he was distracted by the flurry of wings at his window and the arrival of yet another falcon carrying a missive from the battlefield. The short howls had ended and with it the sense of urgency, he?d leave his men to discover the reason for her disturbance as he hastily tore open the scroll case and sought the assurance of his son?s safety.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 14:28 EST
Is the night chilly and dark?
The night is chilly, but not dark.
The thin gray cloud is spread on high,
It covers but not hides the sky.
The moon is behind, and at the full;
And yet she looks both small and dull.
The night is chill, the cloud is gray:
'T is a month before the month of May,
And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
The lovely lady, ,
Whom her father loves so well,
What makes her in the wood so late,
A furlong from the castle gate?
She had dreams all yesternight
Of her own betrothed knight;
And she in the midnight wood will pray
For the weal of her lover that's far away

The Lady Aribet de Montesquieu slipped past her walled garden gate and into the courtyard on bare feet. Careful to remain unnoticed by the guardsmen who were busily looking outward in chance of an enemy?s approach, she easily made her way free from their holdings. A slender silhouette that moved within the eldritch shadows cast by the dull moon light, Aribet made not a sound as she escaped the confines of her home.

Tears stained her high cheekbones, glistening in silent rivulets to drip off of her aristocratic chin. Her heart raced with the knowledge that she had gained. Oh how she wished that the old matron had never told her of her brother and betroth?s plight. Her father, the Baron, was always careful to keep his beloved daughter sheltered from the news of the battle, but even he could not stop the spread of rumor and the news of the death of her cousin.

Leoline and Lachlan were out there now, fighting for their lives and she could do nothing but garden, or embroider, or sing. Normally Fawn was kept busy by the needs of those around her that such thoughts did not intrude, but the Matron had inadvertently let slip that with the change of the battle?s tide Leoline and Lachlan?s fates looked grim.

The howl of the Mastiff hound would bring a ghost of a smile to her pink lips. She would return after her midnight prayer and make certain that the dog received a bowl of veal. Immediately, a surge of well-being began to eclipse her fear as she found the desire to help another supplanting it.

Into the midnight wood she would traverse. A careful step in her feminine grace.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 14:47 EST
She stole along, she nothing spoke,
The sighs she heaved were soft and low,
And naught was green upon the oak,
But moss and rarest mistletoe:
She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,
And in silence prayeth she.

The lady sprang up suddenly,
The lovely lady, !
It moaned as near, as near can be,
But what it is she cannot tell.-
On the other side it seems to be,
Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.
The night is chill; the forest bare;
Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?
There is not wind enough in the air
To move away the ringlet curl
From the lovely lady's cheek-
There is not wind enough to twirl
The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
That dances as often as dance it can,
Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

There deep within the midnight wood she found the grove that held her mother?s heart. The oak tree that signified the abiding loyalty and strength of the de Montesquieu line. It was here that her mother pledged her undying love for her father. It was here that their bonds had been made. And it was here that Fawne hoped to wed Lachlan beneath the branches of that over-sweeping oak tree with its leaves blooming green and verdant.

Kneeling before the ancient and strong tree, Fawn felt the spongy moss, cold in the chilled air before Spring, conform to her slender knees. One small hand reaching forth to touch the tree as she gave herself over to her prayers to see both brother and betrothed home safe, for the battles to be done, the tyrannical King Richthorn removed from his seat upon the throne, and for the people of their land to be safe once again.

A startled gasp would escape her lips at the sound of a moan near to her kneeling form. Frantic blue eyes searched the area as she attempted to still her racing heart with the mental promises that placed the noise within the wind?s domain.

Surely, she was alone out here? Tilting back her head to look upward she?d spot the auburn leaf that held obstinately to the oak. The same rich shade burnishing her hair as it spilled in curling tendrils down her back, the dull light of the moon washing it into an odd sheen of darkness.

No wind stirred. The leaf did not find itself buffeted by nature?s breath and it stayed its perch with resolute authority. While this thought allowed a measure of comfort in the strength of something so delicate in the face of something as strong as nature, Fawne fought to push down the fear that sought to rise as the answer for the noise remained a mystery.

No wind. No moan made by a breeze.

She was not alone.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 14:58 EST
Hush, beating heart of !
Jesu, Maria, shield her well!
She folded her arms beneath her cloak,
And stole to the other side of the oak.
What sees she there?

There she sees a damsel bright,
Dressed in a silken robe of white,
That shadowy in the moonlight shone:
The neck that made that white robe wan,
Her stately neck, and arms were bare;
Her blue-veined feet unsandaled were;
And wildly glittered here and there
The gems entangled in her hair.
I guess, 't was frightful there to see
A lady so richly clad as she-
Beautiful exceedingly!

'Mary mother, save me now!'
Said , 'and who art thou?'

The lady strange made answer meet,
And her voice was faint and sweet:-
'Have pity on my sore distress,
I scarce can speak for weariness:
Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!'
Said , 'How camest thou here?'
And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet,
Did thus pursue her answer meet:-
'My sire is of a noble line,
And my name is :
Five warriors seized me yestermorn,
Me, even me, a maid forlorn:
They choked my cries with force and fright,
And tied me on a palfrey white.
The palfrey was as fleet as wind,
And they rode furiously behind.
They spurred amain, their steeds were white:
And once we crossed the shade of night.
As sure as Heaven shall rescue me,
I have no thought what men they be;
Nor do I know how long it is
(For I have lain entranced, I wis)
Since one, the tallest of the five,
Took me from the palfrey's back,
A weary woman, scarce alive.
Some muttered words his comrades spoke:
He placed me underneath this oak;
He swore they would return with haste;
Whither they went I cannot tell-
I thought I heard, some minutes past,
Sounds as of a castle bell.
Stretch forth thy hand,' thus ended she,
'And help a wretched maid to flee.'

Fawne gathered her courage about her with the gathering of her cloak. Careful to approach the far side of the oak with a cautious air and ready to flee at any moment, Fawne could not contain the gasp that escaped at the sight of the vision in white.
The woman?s tale was as enthrallingly shocking as her beauty. The exquisite creature made most fair by the wealth of her garments and jewels. This was no commoner who had met such a fate, captured by brigands and abandoned here beneath her mother?s tree.

Immediately her heart would stir at the other?s plight and the delicate Fawne found herself enraptured and desperate to offer assistance of any kind.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 15:06 EST
Then stretched forth her hand,
And comforted fair :
'O well, bright dame, may you command
The service of Sir Leoline;
And gladly our stout chivalry
Will he send forth, and friends withal,
To guide and guard you safe and free
Home to your noble father's hall.'

She rose: and forth with steps they passed
That strove to be, and were not, fast.
Her gracious stars the lady blest,
And thus spake on sweet :
'All our household are at rest,
The hall is silent as the cell;
Sir Leoline is weak in health,
And may not well awakened be,
But we will move as if in stealth;
And I beseech your courtesy,
This night, to share your couch with me.'

They crossed the moat, and
Took the key that fitted well;
A little door she opened straight,
All in the middle of the gate;
The gate that was ironed within and without,
Where an army in battle array had marched out.
The lady sank, belike through pain,
And with might and main
Lifted her up, a weary weight,
Over the threshold of the gate:
Then the lady rose again,
And moved, as she were not in pain.

So, free from danger, free from fear,
They crossed the court: right glad they were.
And devoutly cried
To the Lady by her side;
'Praise we the Virgin all divine,
Who hath rescued thee from thy distress!'
'Alas, alas!' said ,
'I cannot speak for weariness.'
So, free from danger, free from fear,
They crossed the court: right glad they were.

Together the fair maids sped across the glen and arrived at the gates together as Fawne sought to soothe the fears of the delicate lady at her side. Upon arriving at the gated wall she quickly set to unlocking it, stepping through with a beckoning hand held behind her; yet, the lovely lady Aoline fell with a cry of pain and startled by the weakness that assaulted her and injured by her pain, Fawne immediately struggled to help the woman inside. The vision in white professed her gratitude, embracing the young woman indecently close as she whispered, ?I cannot express my thanks enough.?

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 15:14 EST
Outside her kennel the mastiff old
Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold.
The mastiff old did not awake,
Yet she an angry moan did make.
And what can ail the mastiff bitch?
Never till now she uttered yell
Beneath the eye of .
Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch:
For what can aid the mastiff bitch?

They passed the hall, that echoes still,
Pass as lightly as you will.
The brands were flat, the brands were dying,
Amid their own white ashes lying;
But when the lady passed, there came
A tongue of light, a fit of flame;
And saw the lady's eye,
And nothing else saw she thereby,
Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall,
Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall.
'O softly tread,' said ,
'My father seldom sleepeth well.'
Sweet her feet doth bare,
And, jealous of the listening air,
They steal their way from stair to stair,
Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,
And now they pass the Baron's room,
As still as death, with stifled breath!
And now have reached her chamber door;
And now doth press down
The rushes of the chamber floor.

The moon shines dim in the open air,
And not a moonbeam enters here.
But they without its light can see
The chamber carved so curiously,
Carved with figures strange and sweet,
All made out of the carver's brain,
For a lady's chamber meet:
The lamp with twofold silver chain
Is fastened to an angel's feet.
The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But the lamp will trim.
She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright,
And left it swinging to and fro,
While , in wretched plight,
Sank down upon the floor below.
'O weary lady, ,
I pray you, drink this cordial wine!
It is a wine of virtuous powers;
My mother made it of wild flowers.'

Carefully the ladies crept through the courtyard and the hall, Fawne taking note that the mastiff hound did not give her customary warning. A slight disturbance at the recognition would be quickly lost in her continued concern for the woman she led through her home. Also unnoticed would be the otherworldly effect the Lady Aoline had on the flames as she passed, the embers flaring to life in welcome to one of such fiery temperament.

Upon reaching her bedchamber, Fawne carefully latched her door and sought to light the blessed lamp of her mother?s. With a stifled groan, Aoline?s crumpling form drew her immediate attention and in desperation to soothe her distraught companion Fawne pressed upon her a potent wine whose recipe belonged to her mother.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 15:50 EST
'And will your mother pity me,
Who am a maiden most forlorn?'
answered- 'Woe is me!
She died the hour that I was born.
I have heard the gray-haired friar tell,
How on her death-bed she did say,
That she should hear the castle-bell
Strike twelve upon my wedding-day.
O mother dear! that thou wert here!'
'I would,' said , 'she were!'

But soon, with altered voice, said she-
'Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine!
I have power to bid thee flee.'
Alas! what ails poor ?
Why stares she with unsettled eye?
Can she the bodiless dead espy?
And why with hollow voice cries she,
'Off, woman, off! this hour is mine-
Though thou her guardian spirit be,
Off, woman. off! 't is given to me.'

Then knelt by the lady's side,
And raised to heaven her eyes so blue-
'Alas!' said she, 'this ghastly ride-
Dear lady! it hath wildered you!'
The lady wiped her moist cold brow,
And faintly said, ''T is over now!'
Again the wild-flower wine she drank:
Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,
And from the floor, whereon she sank,
The lofty lady stood upright:
She was most beautiful to see,
Like a lady of a far countree.

Fawne helped the enchanting woman drink her proffered wine, concern blossoming deeper as she appeared to converse with spirits unseen. Attempting to soothe her she assured her that her mother had died within an hour of her birth, but the events of the traumatic day had obviously been too much for the fair aristocratic lady before her as she declared, ?Off, woman, off! this hour is mine!, Though thou are her guardian spirit be, off, woman off, t?is given to me.?

Gently wiping her brow with the calming scented water that she usually bathed in, Fawn attempted to provide comfort.

A sudden gust of icy cold wind dimmed the fire in the grated fireplace, a started look over her shoulder.

Her cerulean hued eyes returning to the stricken lady only to find her seemingly recovered.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 16:01 EST
And thus the lofty lady spake-
'All they, who live in the upper sky,
Do love you, holy !
And you love them, and for their sake,
And for the good which me befell,
Even I in my degree will try,
Fair maiden, to requite you well.
But now unrobe yourself; for I
Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie.'

Quoth , 'So let it be!'
And as the lady bade, did she.
Her gentle limbs did she undress
And lay down in her loveliness.

But through her brain, of weal and woe,
So many thoughts moved to and fro,
That vain it were her lids to close;
So half-way from the bed she rose,
And on her elbow did recline.
To look at the lady .
Beneath the lamp the lady bowed,
And slowly rolled her eyes around;
Then drawing in her breath aloud,
Like one that shuddered, she unbound
The cincture from beneath her breast:
Her silken robe, and inner vest,
Dropped to her feet, and full in view,
Behold! her bosom and half her side-
A sight to dream of, not to tell!
O shield her! shield sweet !

Returned to strength, the Lady Aoline rose in her enthralling beauty and bid Fawn to rest while she prayed for her safe return to her family. Thrilled to see that her ministrations had been helpful, and never able to decline anyone she obediently headed for her bower, only to be stopped by the honeyed words of Aoline,

?Unrobe yourself...?

Immediately she complied, unable to resist the seductive vibrations of that voice. Her cloak carefully hung upon the hook and her gown slid from its claim upon her innocent flesh. Ascending the raised dais to her bower she slid amongst the thick coverlets and kept her gaze carefully averted from her newfound companion, affording her the privacy her own prayers demanded.

Yet sleep was not easy to find. A toss of slender limbs and a rustle of the covers accompanied a slightly petulant sigh. Her thoughts dipped and dived, carrying her along through scenarios far from her reach and without remorse shook her to her very foundation.

Finally, unable to resist the urge she rolled to her side and lifted her delicate frame onto one elbow to face the Lady Aoline. A sharp gasp escaped her lips at the exquisite sight unveiled before her as with a low sensual sound the woman rose from her bowed position to divest herself of her clothing.

The lick of light ran over the luscious curves revealed like a spurned lover desperate to caress its way back into good favor. Stricken by the lustful eroticism of the naked woman, Fawne could only stare, frozen like her namesake before a temptation she could not begin to fathom.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 16:17 EST
Yet nor speaks nor stirs:
Ah! what a look was hers!
Deep from within she seems half-way
To lift some weight with sick assay,
And eyes the maid and seeks delay;
Then suddenly, as one defied,
Collects herself in scorn and pride,
And lay down by the maiden's side!-
And in her arms the maid she took,
Ah, well-a-day!
And with low voice and doleful look
These words did say:

'In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell,
Which is lord of thy utterance, !
Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow,
This mark of my , this seal of my ;
But vainly thou warrest,
For this is alone in
Thy power to declare,
That in the dim forest
Thou heard'st a low moaning,
And found'st a bright lady, surpassingly fair:
And didst bring her home with thee, in love and in charity,
To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.'

...Can this be she,
The lady, who knelt at the old oak tree?
And lo! the worker of these harms,
That holds the maiden in her arms,

...A star hath set, a star hath risen,
O ! since arms of thine
Have been the lovely lady's prison.
O ! one hour was thine-
Thou'st had thy will! By tarn and rill,
The night-birds all that hour were still.
But now they are jubilant anew,
From cliff and tower, tu-whoo! tu-whoo!
Tu-whoo! tu-whoo! from wood and fell!

Cat-green, the eyes of a seductress held Fawne tight within their grasp as the enchantress held the sight of her innocent form suspended within the reflective green depths. Fawne could only gasp for breath as her heart raced and her body responded to that heated look with a tingling she did not understand. Desperation grew as she knew only that she must please the Lady Aoline.

For a moment she feared that the Vision would disappear as magically as she had come into being on the moonlit moor, but Aoline approached and she released her pent up breath of pain filled terror. As the naked lush curves descended into her bower to glide alluringly against her own soft form, Fawne uttered a whimper of submission.

Dimly she heard words of warning, a statement of calling, a promise of summoning, but all was lost in the stirring of forbidden desire.

The night passed in blissful surrender. Seeking to please. Desperate to satisfy. Annihilated through pleasure.

Innocence taken.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-08 16:25 EST
And [Aoline}...rises lightly from the bed;
Puts on her silken vestments white,
And tricks her hair in lovely plight,
And nothing doubting of her spell
Awakens the lady .
'Sleep you, sweet lady ?
I trust that you have rested well.'

And awoke and spied
The same who lay down by her side-
O rather say, the same whom she
Raised up beneath the old oak tree!
Nay, fairer yet! and yet more fair!
For she belike hath drunken deep
Of all the blessedness of sleep!
And while she spake, her looks, her air,
Such gentle thankfulness declare,
That (so it seemed) her girded vests
Grew tight beneath her heaving breasts.
'Sure I have sinned!' said ,
'Now heaven be praised if all be well!'
And in low faltering tones, yet sweet,
Did she the lofty lady greet
With such perplexity of mind
As dreams too lively leave behind.

So quickly she rose, and quickly arrayed
Her maiden limbs,...
She forthwith led fair
To meet her sire, Sir Leoline.
The lovely maid and the lady tall
Are pacing both into the hall,
And pacing on through page and groom,
Enter the Baron's presence-room.

The Baron rose, and while he prest
His gentle daughter to his breast,
With cheerful wonder in his eyes
The lady espies,
And gave such welcome to the same,
As might beseem so bright a dame!

She awakened to the sight of the Vision before her already dressed and fit to present to her father. Her heart raced at the thought of their activities but hours before, a blush staining her fair cheeks even as she hungrily drank in the perfection that was her Lady Aoline.

Quickly she assured the lady that she was fit and hurriedly clothed herself, eager to introduce the damsel to her father, the Baron du Montesquieu.

The first sight of Aoline was his downfall; yet it was her tale that carried with it the weight of a seduction complete.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-09 11:04 EST
But when he heard the lady's tale,
And when she told her father's name,
Why waxed Sir Leoline so pale,
Murmuring o'er the name again,
Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine?
Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny; and youth is vain;
And to be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline.
Each spake words of high disdain
And insult to his heart's best brother:
They parted- ne'er to meet again!
But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining-
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;
A dreary sea now flows between.
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been.
Sir Leoline, a moment's space,
Stood gazing on the damsel's face:
And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine
Came back upon his heart again.

O then the Baron forgot his age,
His noble heart swelled high with rage;
He swore by the wounds in Jesu's side
He would proclaim it far and wide,
With trump and solemn heraldry,
That they, who thus had wronged the dame
Were base as spotted infamy!
'And if they dare deny the same,
My herald shall appoint a week,
And let the recreant traitors seek
My tourney court- that there and then
I may dislodge their reptile souls
From the bodies and forms of men!'
He spake: his eye in lightning rolls!
For the lady was ruthlessly seized; and he kenned
In the beautiful lady the child of his friend!

And fondly in his arms he took
Fair who met the embrace,
Prolonging it with joyous look.
Which when she viewed, a vision fell
Upon the soul ,
The vision of fear, the touch and pain!
She shrunk and shuddered, and saw again-
(Ah, woe is me! Was it for thee,
Thou gentle maid! such sights to see?)
...
And drew in her breath with a hissing sound:
Whereat the Knight turned wildly round,
And nothing saw, but his own sweet maid
With eyes upraised, as one that prayed.

Fawne, ever sensitive to the natures of those around her, felt her father?s regretful pain as Aoline?s father was revealed to be his estranged brother knight.

But as she approached to offer him her gentle assistance, she was struck by an emotion foreign to her countenance. The look her father placed upon the Vision before him was unexpected and she felt a sharp spear of jealousy.

Startled by the alien emotion she cried out and brought her father?s eyes about to her.

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-10 00:36 EST
The touch, the sight, had passed away,
And in its stead that vision blest,
Which comforted her after-rest,
While in the lady's arms she lay,
Had put a rapture in her breast,
And on her lips and o'er her eyes
Spread smiles like light!
With new surprise,
'What ails then my beloved child?'
The Baron said- His daughter mild
Made answer, 'All will yet be well!'
I ween, she had no power to tell
Aught else: so mighty was the spell.

Yet he who saw this .
Had deemed her sure a thing divine.
Such sorrow with such grace she blended,
As if she feared she had offended
Sweet , that gentle maid!
And with such lowly tones she prayed
She might be sent without delay
Home to her father's mansion.
'Nay!
Nay, by my soul!' said Leoline.
....
The lady fell, and clasped his knees,
Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflowing;
...
the Baron, ...
Then turned to Lady ,
His eyes made up of wonder and love;
And said in courtly accents fine,
'Sweet maid, Lord Roland's beauteous dove,
With arms more strong than harp or song,
Thy sire and I will crush the snake!'
He kissed her forehead as he spake,
And in maiden wise
Casting down her large bright eyes,
With blushing cheek and courtesy fine
She turned her from Sir Leoline;
Softly gathering up her train,
That o'er her right arm fell again;
And folded her arms across her chest,
And couched her head upon her breast,
And looked askance at
Jesu, Maria, shield her well!

Confronted with her father?s searching gaze Fawne could not give voice to the dark emotions that roiled: an odd fusion of jealousy and shame.

She could only stand by and watch helplessly as the enchanting Aoline drew her father?s protective nature about her and wrapped his admiration taut.

Her lips parted in an attempt to bequeath an explanation but images of sweat-slickened bodies twining together in her bower brought a fresh stain of crimson to her cheeks; instead, she managed a pathetic, ?Perhaps we should help Aoline return to her father Sir Roland...?

Her father considered her words for the flutter of a hummingbird?s wings before boldly declaring that it was his duty to keep the fair Lady Aoline safe and that a messenger would be sent to her father?s home instead.

Fawne watched as the enthralling figure of Aoline dropped before her father and shamelessly wrapped herself about his legs, tears only heightening her plight filled beauty. Even she was moved by the emotions and felt the powerful need to help the ?beauteous dove.?

Fawne

Date: 2010-02-10 00:38 EST
And when the trance was o'er, the maid
Paused awhile, and inly prayed:
Then falling at the Baron's feet,
'By my mother's soul do I entreat
That thou this woman send away!'
She said: and more she could not say;
For what she knew she could not tell,
O'er-mastered by the mighty spell.
Why is thy cheek so wan and wild,
Sir Leoline? Thy only child
Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride.
So fair, so innocent, so mild;
The same, for whom thy lady died!
O by the pangs of her dear mother
Think thou no evil of thy child!
For her, and thee, and for no other,
She prayed the moment ere she died:
Prayed that the babe for whom she died,
Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride!
That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled,
Sir Leoline!
And wouldst thou wrong thy only child,
Her child and thine?

Within the Baron's heart and brain
If thoughts, like these, had any share,
They only swelled his rage and pain,
And did but work confusion there.
His heart was cleft with pain and rage,
His cheeks they quivered, his eyes were wild,
Dishonored thus in his old age;
Dishonored by his only child,
And all his hospitality
To the insulted daughter of his friend
By more than woman's jealousy
Brought thus to a disgraceful end-
He rolled his eye with stern regard...,
The aged knight, Sir Leoline,
Led forth the lady !

Staving off the compelling emotions that wrought havoc through her delicate frame, Fawne forced the words past her frozen lips. It was not only jealousy for her father?s love or shame for her own wanton actions the night before, but fear, very real fear at seeing her father so enamored so quickly.

She beseeched him in the name of her mother to send the Lady Aoline home.

A hush fell about the gathered nobles of his court.

Blue eyes, the color of innocent skies, turned upward to find the dark look of dishonor that hooded her father?s beloved gaze.

A cry of such pain, a wrenching shock at having displeased the one that mattered most dear, escaped.

With no word stated, the Baron de Montesquieu took forth the hand of Lady Aoline and led her past his sobbing daughter, bolstered by his belief that it was petty jealousy that guided her actions, such a womanly response to this enthralling creature at his side. He would forgive Aribet her envy as any woman could not help but feel threatened by the exquisite Aoline.




(Thank you for reading through the reimagining of Samuel Taylor Coleridge?s Christabel. Fawne?s story continues as she becomes irrevocably entwined with the reshaped Lady Geraldine/Aoline)

Aolani Malvlasta

Date: 2010-02-10 20:22 EST
She luxuriated in the hot bath: a rare treat in this dismally backwater land. With the realm hopping capabilities of the Shaitan Covenant she had seen so many advancements (and the multitude of realities stretched before her) that when they traveled to these medieval landscapes she found herself desperately wishing for the base necessities.

A laugh would purr free from her exposed throat as she let her thoughts drift idly past. Really? Her beginnings had been much more raw than these. A peasant girl raised in a family of farmers completely unaware of her infernal and divine blood. The headaches, the explosion of her wings, the development of her voice and her acute sexuality, they had all been something for her to deal with alone. The Mam and Pap of her fake little life would never have been able to cope with their adopted daughter?s metamorphosis.

How far she had come. The rich sudsy bubbles spilling out over the rim of the porcelain tub as she shifted lower to let the heat of the water rise above her shoulders. And yet, here she was again, dealing with knights and their beliefs.

A snarl. Inhuman and dark. If there was one thing she despised above all others, it was knights. Their holier than thou, bonds of brotherhood, harkened back to her days of na?vet? and innocence. Alastair?s handsome face floated through her mind?s eye and in a pique she slapped the bubbles sending them spraying.



http://www.mommysideabook.com/wp-content/gallery/cache/10__430x_bubble-bath1.jpg

No. She would not think of him. She would not allow this land full of masculine men with god complexes send her spiraling into the dark recesses of emotions that had nearly killed her. Alastair was dead. By her hand. And rightfully so.

A twist of the shard drew a sharp pained gasp from her lips. The Shaitan Covenant called. The battles they had stirred, the feuds they had inspired, the evil they had wrought had come to a delicious head. A ritual drew near. The Mistress of the Shards had arrived in this war-shredded realm to gather their stored energy and harvest their might.

Soon, her mission here was not yet completed. Sir Leoline hovered on the brink of meeting his fate, and his demise would surely fill her shard to brimming: such a goodly soul destroyed in a betrayal of his own sense of honor and ravaged by the sensual lust of her creation.

She had been days, turned into weeks, twisting and twining the Knight within her charms: No simple seduction this, no this called for a special torque. The manipulation was a thing of beauty, an artistry that spoke of her skill; but even more than that the nights had been spent reveling in the innocent desperation of the sweet-natured Fawne.

A knock on the door pulled her from her introversion.

Politely she answered, twining the seductive edge of the siren?s power around the words to command in the sound of a plea, ?Come in...?

The innocent sky blue eyes of the delectable Lady Aribet greeted her cat-green gaze. Summoned. What a sweet choice meat this one was turning out to be. She just might have to take her with her when her work here was done.