Life, Continued
Somehow I forgot to post this from AO3 and hadn’t realized until now — sorry!
Part 2: Forlorn
There was a stone arch wrapped in thick vines that stood on the edge between the long, winding trail that led here. The thickets of trees acted as a tunnel leading from the encompassing warmth that his wife exuded, to him. The colder and macabre other half of that fateful coin.
Life was beautiful; life was you. His wife, endlessly tied to a man, a thing, like himself, who had the capabilities of ruin and death. What a fine balance you were to the other side of the scale.
Beautiful and tender, a woman who was soft by nature, had felt too deeply. Whose entire being was known for warmth and sunshine, for the promises of something better to come. Life.
And he was the end of the warmth that creatures and humans had enjoyed heavily. Death. The promises of an end to what beauty was captured in sprigs of leaves clinging to branches, and brightly coloured fauna.
That stone arch was the beginning of the pathway that led to him. The vines that wrapped around the permanent and interlaid bricks that created the welcoming, would soon be covered in frost and ice.
Fall, winter. Death.
You were life, the Queen who ruled over spring and summer. For just under half of the year, you were celebrated and ruled meticulously yet fairly. Over the forest, over the animals and living things that enjoyed the defrosting of the earth.
And he was death. Your king. The one who had stripped those you cared for of life when it was their time. He was the one who had drawn the end of the summer hours, welcoming in the fall. Harvest and then winter.
In his court, the celebrations of the end of summer were beginning. Those who lived in his court were merrily drinking in the crispness of the air, another spring and summer was behind them, fall was on its way. Simon should have been revelling in their celebration, he should have been watching over those who were kickstarting the season.
In the grand room, the banquet hall filled with the things of pleasure that his people enjoyed, he should have been celebrating too. Though, misery was replacing any semblance of joy, as the throne beside him was empty. The King was without his Queen, death had missed life.
Simon should have acted with ferocity and intensity, he should have long since captured his wife and brought her back here. Summer should have been over a week and a half ago, but Simon was hopelessly and deliriously in love with his wife.
When he had looked at you, and he had seen those eyes, those pleading soft eyes of his wife to enjoy the sun for just a little longer, he had caved. You were the only person, the only woman, who could have ever mended and staved off the chill that wanted to settle into his heart.
You, his darling Queen and wife, had shown him that even in death there was beauty. Even when everything you had loved and adored about spring and summer was fading, there was beauty in his courts. Because of you, because of the gentle nature of life and the promises it would carry.
Simon could not cut that short, not this year. Those who advised him, the council that had drawn themselves to the isolated war room—as his beautiful wife had called it—had begged him to begin fall. It was time, summer was lasted too long, and it was time to end the warm seasons.
Fall was needed, his people were getting restless.
Simon had given you all the time he could, and now it was time for his wife to come home. He was ready, and he was missing you, enough that it had drawn ire and foul moods from him. Death had gone too far without life; the King was too lonely without his Queen.
Simon had waited underneath the thick vines that curled around that arch, waiting for the beautiful wife he longed for. He knew that within that grand banquet hall, his people were celebrating. He knew that the wine was flowing that conversations wee being struck with fervour, all while he waited for you.
Of course, he could have sent someone else to retrieve you, it wouldn’t have been out of the picture to have one of his best guard escort you. However, his heart longed for you, cold and hard as it could be, he needed to be here.
He waited for your approach. He waited until his patience began to draw thin, the determination to have you with him was again stirring with him. Like hot ashes that were ready to ignite a previously snuffed fire, he was prepared to find you himself.
And then you appeared on the pathway that led to his courts, escorted by the best of your guards. You cast a breathtaking image in a gown preened and encapsulating of your summer’s end. The dress made of soft materials that shifted with every step, layers that billowed with the soft breeze, had radiated. A soft glow of your skin, of the last tendrils of sunshine, had made it impossible for him to breathe.
There you were, the gown made of a soft yet rich green, accentuated by blooming pastel flowers and soft beading, had appeared before him. Your shoulders were as bared as your throat, however your hair was loose, just how he loved it. Upon your head was a crown of jewels reflective of the spring and summer you ruled over. Emeralds and sapphires resembling the rich fauna and flora of spring, the bright and rich blue of the summer skies your people loved.
Life was beautiful, it was entirely captivating to Death. His Queen had returned to him.
“Simon.” You spoke his name as you approached the archway, the path that would lead you back to him, stretching out behind him. “I had a hard time leaving.”
“I know.” He approached you and set his hand upon your waist to draw you close to himself, to press you to his chest. He drew his lips down to you, kissing into your soft hair as he breathed you in, and felt his cold, hard heart begin to soften.
“We’ll be back to collect you on the last day of winter.” Your guards were only doing their job, and yet, their words had drawn Simon’s vile temper.
He had just gotten you, and already they were talking of taking you from him. He should have ended them where they stood, it was within his right as your King, as your husband. To defend you, to protect you, to care for you…
“Simon.” And yet, you spoke his name, you muttered the consonants and vowels that partially stilled his rage.
He hadn’t let you go, he had kept you pressed against him, and yet his fingers twitched with anger. Without a moment’s hesitation, there was an impenetrable wall of corded vines between you and your guards. The barrier was decorated with the shifting colours of leaves that had edges as sharp as razors.
It was merciful as opposed to the act he wished to commit, and it would officially, and finally, bring the end to summer. With that sealed barrier and with your courts left without their darling Queen, the cold season would have begun. The nature of your people and creatures you loved, would retreat into their homes for the changing weather and his rule.
“I missed you.” His voice held a glimmer of tenderness saved for you and you alone, and he had drawn himself back—only to study you, to commit every beautiful piece of you to his memory. “They’re waiting for you.”
You stood there in that gown, flowers already fading and the green colour of that soft material dulling. Simon would have you prepared for the next season, exchanging the beauty of summer for the richness of fall. You would be welcomed back into his court, you would be greeted like you deserved as his wife and Queen.
“They aren’t happy with me.” You had moved to step around Simon, ceasing walking when he had caught you around the waist, pulling you back to him. “I kept Summer around longer than I should have.”
“They do what I tell them.” That natural edge was back, the hardness to his voice had communicated more than he could with simple words.
They would be grateful to see you, they would treat you with respect and dignity. If they had any value to themselves or what they had carried with them, they would not disrespect his wife. Simon would not allow it, not for someone who was as kind-hearted and tender as you.
“This winter will be harsh.” Your eyes had remained on the path ahead of you, the ground covered with the rich colours of fallen leaves—a welcome befitting of Death’s wife.
“It needs to be.” Simon’s hand was raised, he had brushed his fingers against your right shoulder, to feel you once more.
“You can have some mercy.” When you looked at him with those pleading eyes, those woeful irises, Simon had felt himself falling for you all over again.
“It’s my duty,” his voice dips in volume, acting as a promise to his role, “you have yours.”
“Simon.” You spoke his voice, perhaps with more force than you should have used. “Please.”
“Life,” he raised his hand and pressed it against your chest, feeling your heart beating beneath his palm, “cannot thrive without death.”
And you had raised your hand like he had, pressing yoru smaller hand against his chest. You felt his heartbeat in exchange, your eyes searching his own. You might not have understood the fine balance of what he represented, or maybe you did.
You had a bleeding heart, you were the encompassing force of things to be, and Simon was the force behind things ended. However, there was beauty in death, in fall and winter, like you had shown him.
Perhaps even without knowing it. Yet, your heart still broke every time he ha appeared to take something away—like the doe and its fawn.
When he had appeared to tell you there was only a week left, he had felt your pain. Simon knew that you had cried for the innocence, the loss of something beautiful, and he felt for you. He ruled fall and winter, he was tasked with the role opposite of yours; however, he wasn’t without a heart.
His heart was colder, it was harder than your own softened nature, but Simon still felt. He still could know and to feel loss.
He felt loss every spring and summer. When you left, he had felt devastated by the lack of your presence, by the emptiness of his bed.
Occasionally, Simon felt too much.
“I missed you.” He repeated as he grabbed your hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “My wife.”
The path illuminated in the setting sun, casting the entire path in a gold shimmer. It was the perfect greeting for his wife, for his Queen, and it was a welcome he had been looking forward to. Simon was prepared for you, he knew he was. The courts he ruled over were finally settling with his improved mood, with the return of his Queen.
“You have time to rest now, to enjoy the seasons. It’s my turn to take over.” Simon lowers your hand but doesn’t let go, he won’t let go.
Rather, he holds your hand tightly in his own and begins leading you away from that stone arch, back to the castle that stands high above the landscape. Even from a distance the celebrations can be heard, the noise encompassing of the shifting season.
Simon holds your hand tightly in his own, he walks with you while keeping a close eye on his wife. From the sides of the path, there is movement—creatures who don’t hide in the thick of winter run alongside the two of you. The closer you get to the castle grounds, the movement is much more deliberate as guards watch over the two of you.
The moment you step onto that stone path of the castle grounds, the air shifts.
Simon welcomes you home again by stopping and reaching for you. He cups your cheeks and tilts your head back, he first looks deep into your eyes and then he acts. He draws closer and brushes his lips against your own, a kiss as soft and gentle as Death can allow.
And in the kiss is a whisper of love, of adoration.