Kim Ford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bannion_sight) wrote2006-12-16 07:49 pm
bannion_sight) wrote2006-12-16 07:49 pm
(no subject)
As the crimson blaze fades, Kim Ford finds herself standing in the place of her dreaming.
There is no lake of glass here now, nor island rising from still waters, but the soft music of gentle waves yet whispers with the wind through green, green grass here on Glastonbury Tor, which in an earlier time had been called Avalon and whose shores had sheltered a fallen warrior and dying king.
Before the Warstone's light dies utterly she turns, raising her hand toward Stonehenge, so far away. Kim reaches out with the power as she has done before, gathering the other four in and sending them through the crossing, borne on the last wild red light back to Fionavar without her.
And then the ring goes dark on her finger, and the only light on this windy height is that of the thin crescent moon and bright sparks of stars in the night above.
There is no lake of glass here now, nor island rising from still waters, but the soft music of gentle waves yet whispers with the wind through green, green grass here on Glastonbury Tor, which in an earlier time had been called Avalon and whose shores had sheltered a fallen warrior and dying king.
Before the Warstone's light dies utterly she turns, raising her hand toward Stonehenge, so far away. Kim reaches out with the power as she has done before, gathering the other four in and sending them through the crossing, borne on the last wild red light back to Fionavar without her.
And then the ring goes dark on her finger, and the only light on this windy height is that of the thin crescent moon and bright sparks of stars in the night above.
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There are two parts to the curse, after all, two things for which expiation is always, always to be made.
For the children and for love.
She swallows, hard.
"... I don't know."
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Is it so? He remembers one proud and golden Guinevere, and he remembers another, quieter, darker. He remembers a Lancelot he loved, and another he hardly spoke to.
He also remembers a riddle, a triad, recited by the fireside in all his lives: Three great queens of Arthur: Gwenhwyfar, and Gwenhwyfar, and Gwenhwyfar.
They were both my wife. I loved them both. They both betrayed me.
One will be there, with the third, because I had the children killed.
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Silently, she reaches out with her left hand, taking hold of his-- and then with her last ounce of strength at the end of this all-too-long night, she raises her right hand once more, lifting the ring with its blood-red stone high into the air.
And as she does, the Baelrath blazes alight around them, painting the world in wild crimson fire as Kim Ford crosses between the worlds with Arthur Pendragon, the Warrior Condemned, returning at last to Fionavar--
--and to war.