Pride swells in Azrael’s chest as he walks beside Elena’s child – no, his child. He mentally corrects his thoughts, still in wonder and awe that the golden mare had entrusted him with such an important distinction. While their path to happiness had been anything but smooth, Azrael was finding domestic life quite suited him. He loved waking up beside Elena’s golden warmth, watching the sleep fade from her crystal blue eyes and her soft smile when she reached for him in the morning light. Still, there are shadows in her eyes, hurt which he would do his best to kiss away. They would heal, in time – and Elena would find her way once more.
But today was not a day to worry about things past. Instead, he focused on the present, watching the way Tenebrae’s child frolicked in the flowers, carefully selecting the most beautiful blooms and bringing them back to him. She’d filled the basket he dutifully carried, and he nodded as he went – passing strangers and those more familiar. All around, the land was alive with spring, bursting with color and hope for newness with the season. “Look Elli,” he whispered, gesturing to a large graceful bird on the outskirts of the festival. “That’s a Great Egret… they are said to bring tranquility and peace.” It walks quietly along the treeline, blinking at the shed-star and his daughter once, before wandering by with a graceful pace. They could certainly use some tranquility, he quietly mused, before turning his attention back to the girl.
“What should we do next… your basket is looking pretty full.” As if illustrating his point, the stallion gestures to their haul, overflowing in a rainbow of colors. “Do you want to make something for your mother?” She would love it, he decided, if not for the beauty of the flowers than for the nostalgia of a homemade gift.
They leave the flower fields behind, working their way toward the craftsmen and merchants. As the pair passed them, Azrael stopped to watch the dancers and listen to the lively music, bobbing his head in a carefree manner as he encouraged Elliana to dance with the other children. She was always so serious, he mused – and yet, he understood all the same. Still, he wanted the girl to lead a childhood of unadulterated happiness – one where all her dreams were possible. So he sighed, letting her take the lead and following with a lightness to his step, eager to see the festival through the eyes of his child as she took in all that her first spring would offer.
She does not know of the secrets that her parents whisper to one another in the night when she is asleep. She has no reason to suspect they would ever be dishonest with her. When she asks about the stars and why they shine, they tell her, when she asks about the fish in the ocean and how they can breathe beneath its surface, they tell her. Maybe if she asked about the one she calls her father, and the blind monk that sits in Denocte, maybe they would tell her.
But maybe not.
Elli skips ahead of the starry stallion, that she has called her father since she can remember, lemur on her shoulders, always hanging on tight to the little who can never stay still. She stops only when a particular flower catches her blue eyes. She finds she likes the blues and the greens, to match her dad’s glowing skin that was more comforting and more beautiful than any night light could possibly ever be. Jack holds his own flower, a white tulip, placing it behind his ear, less for his amusement and more for Elli’s.
As she places a flower in the basket he carries, she stops and looks up at him with blue eyes when he says her name. Those same eyes turn to the great eagle that stands out before them. “It must be working,” she says under her breath. She has only been alive a short time, but in the time she has, Elli has known mostly peace, and love, and joy, and tranquility. He walks away and she stares at the space he left, blinking once, twice.
A grin spreads across her face as she adds a final two flowers to the basket, as if daring him to say no. She giggles because of all the things her father has said to her, ‘no’ was hardly one for her vocabulary. “Yes, lets make something for mom, but you have to help me,” she says brightly. “She likes presents from you almost as much as she likes you, I think,” she says. She had never heard her parents say ‘I love you,’ despite the way they told her such things, but she understands little about the world right now, and even less in complicated relationships and matters of the heart.
They stop by the dancers, and Elliana watches the sway of their bodies as they frolic in flower petals and laughter. Why would she need to dance when she is already a ballerina in every step she takes? She finds a place to the side of the long rows of flowers and takes the basket from her father. “Dad,” she starts, taking the tulips and tying two together by the stems, having a flower to Jack for him to replace the one that has now since fallen off. “How did you and mom, meet?”
dear friend it will be alright, please just stay by my side
There is an easiness between them as Azrael walks among the festival goers, holding Elliana’s basket high, as if it were his duty to do so. Ahead of him, she raced to take everything in, the lemur on her shoulder chittering as he fritted with the tulip at his ear. It was good for Elli to have a companion, and he thought briefly to Noctua, wondering where she’d been for the last few days. The owl largely kept to herself, but was generally within earshot, even if he couldn’t always see her. During days like this with crowds of people though, she would likely stay to the woods, never one for crowds.
Some days, he couldn’t blame her… for Azrael himself is not accustomed to being around so many. The shed-stars were largely solitary creatures, choosing to stay in their mountains and near their stars above all else. There is always a part of him which longs for the night, which yearns to reach to the stardust and scry on the constellations… but he had more now. Now, he had responsibility and purpose, and he wouldn’t trade the companionship for anything. Still, this scene was more Elena’s bailiwick than his own, and Azrael catches a quick glimpse of her as they pass, leading a group of visitors with a bright and easy smile.
The girl leads him to a table strewn with various twines and ribbon, beginning to weave the flowers deftly as only little girls could do. Jack handed them to her one by one, as she turns to him with a bright smile, and asks how he’d met her mother. The stallion smiles gently to the child, thinking back to the fateful night, when Elena had met not one, but two suitors in the night.
“Last summer, there was a festival in my land – Denocte – not unlike this one. We celebrated the summer with bonfires, music, dancing…” He remembered back to that night, to seeing Elena shining like molten gold in the starlight, her cheeks flush with fear and wracked with memories. There was nothing so beautiful as she that night, even in her lostness. For a moment, Azrael wonders if he might have known then, all which would come to pass. How their fates would be so intertwined, their journey just beginning.
“I found her in the mountains, staring at the night sky. And so I showed her, just like I’ve showed you – we counted the stars together, long into the night.” She’d fallen asleep beside him, his glow warm against her skin, a smile on lips which once trembled with nerves. And Azrael had fallen in love with the golden girl then, with her warmth and her spirit. From that night, he’d thought of little else.
Azrael reaches to gather some blooms of his own, heart catching for a moment as he remembers the last time he’d dared to mold something for his beloved. The last time they’d sat before a crafting table, when he’d drawn her caricature with charcoal, she had told him of Tenebrae. Of the child which would come. Of the child who stood with him now. Then, he hadn’t known how to right his world… but now, all seemed right as he watches the girl who concentrates on her blossoms, looping them together with a whimsical smile as she thinks of her mother.
And Azrael was glad to have given love a chance, lifting the wire and twisting it into a wreath, weaving Elena’s flowers in a tidy circlet of color.
Elli was a lucky, lucky girl. But she isn't thinking this as Jack clings to her shoulders and she flitters from flower to flower. She has no idea that her father, her blood father, has been blinded, that her mother’s heart aches inside her chest for two men. That her father through bond has to look at her mother and know she once loved another man before him, during him. She does not know about all her mother’s suffering, the good, the great, the terrible, the anguish. She knows so relatively little about her mother’s life.
She knows, in some secret part of herself, that she must have had such loves—that she lived and loved and fought and dreamed. But, for much of her golden mother, it is a mystery. A grand mystery if only because she may never know the truth of it.
There is delight dancing on every corner of her pristine face, as Jack settles against her mane. He turns back to look at Azrael, perhaps the only other one in Elliana’s life that Jack has accepted to readily. As if he knew the shed-star was Elli’s protecter, her guiding light. Her guiding light more than Elli’s mother could ever be. So difficult to follow the sun as it stretches across the sky, it was too large to be so direct, it’s light shining too brightly too stare at. But the North star, such a steady presence, the same place, always waiting for her. Bright enough to find, but serene enough to follow. No one in Elliana’s mind will ever be quite as incredible as her father is.
She sees her mother up ahead, leading a group on a tour of the flowers. She sends a wink in Elli’s direction of those blue eyes and Elli suddenly feels like there are wildflowers caught in her throat as her mother’s blue gaze turns briefly to Azrael. She is too young to know what those fleeting glances mean, how much weight is held within them, and how much it means to be able to smile so easily. She is too young to know and too innocent to appreciate the ease that exists between her parents, too young too to know how much they have been striving to build that ease. That ease, it was not won without a valiant effort. Effort that she knows little of because the way she sees it, everything is as it should be.
Hundreds of different thoughts erupt from every possible corner of her mind with the question, and she conjures up a kind of breathless smile, tilting her fine head a fraction, watching him. “How high did you count?” She says and the smile slips from her face like the sigh of the waves back into the sea. It seems like an important question.
Her and Jack weave more flowers, one after another, pulling them together into a half of a crown. “I met a prince,” she tells him with a half smile. “Though he doesn't seem very princely to me.”
dear friend it will be alright, please just stay by my side
There is an easiness between Azrael and Elli, as if they were cut from the same cloth. It is strange, when he thinks about it, the way that he felt such a kinship to another’s child. Perhaps it is the bits of Caligo which are shared between Tenebrae and he… for both had dedicated their lives to their goddess, each in their own ways. Elena is the true string which ties them in a twisted triangle, and yet…
When he looks at Elliana, he sees bits of himself. Though she wears Tenebrae’s mark upon her shoulder, there is a quietness to the way she watches the world, as if she wanted to know all of its secrets and explore its many wonders. There is a love, as she stares to the sky, murmuring with reverence in a way he too did on so many nights. Perhaps it is her artist’s heart, or perhaps he simply wishes to find more pieces of himself in the girl… but Azrael cannot help but be taken by her spirit and her kindness.
As she works, he reaches toward her to whuffle gentle into her mane, his breath warm and affectionate against her. Lost in her formation of the circlet, Elli does not seem to notice those who stared, and the quiet whispers which he caught wind of from time to time. Look how much she looks like the monk… His ears flick back slightly, as he tries to brush it off, wondering how long their family could keep up the charade.
If he could, Azrael would wrap his daughter tightly and steal her away from their prying eyes, where the three could simply exist in peace and harmony. But she would find out the truth… it was inevitable, when she looked so much like Tenebrae, and Azrael found himself heart-hurt at the thought. But as he had a thousand times before, the shed-star reminded himself that it wasn’t his truth to tell. Elena had remained tight lipped, and he wouldn’t be the one to break her trust.
She breaks him from the thought with an innocent question, one which brings a smile to his face. How high did you count? “I lost count when we fell asleep… but thousands, I’m sure…”
He listens as she continues to regale him with tales of childhood wonder, and he balks in jest at her suggestion of a prince not behaving. “Who is this prince? Perhaps he needs a reminder of how princes should behave? Did you tell him as much?” There is a quick pang to his chest, a reminder that in just a few short years, she would leave home for the last time with a peck on his cheek as she embarked on her own adventure. Who would be her prince? It was every father’s wonder and dread, that one day his baby would be gone, a woman in her place.
In all the world, he wanted only to see her happy and loved, and he hoped in that moment that she would find a prince of light instead of shadows – a man who cherished her with kindness instead of burning fast with passion and leaving her heart in shambles.
Azrael clears his throat, pushing the thoughts away as he passed her more flowers, doing his best not to project his own jealousies and insecurities on the child, as he lets the beauty of the festival wash away the worry from his face once more.
