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| - And he said, "I want to live as an honest man To get all I deserve and to give all I can And to love a young woman who I don't understand Your highness, your ways are very strange." But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait She would only be a moment inside... ~Suzanne Vega, "The Queen and the Soldier" Taran is settled against the bar, an empty bowl in front of him. No music today, though a good look at him makes the reason clear enough. More than his left arm in a sling, his right arm sports several new bandages and moves stiffly and slowly. Despite this, he seems cheerful enough - just quieter than perhaps bards should be. The steady patter of rain echoes through the tavern/inn as another seeks shelter from the turbulent skies. The new arrival hidden away behind the folds of russet velvets that shimmer with new life as water droplets slide along its surface and leaving a trail of water. Who needs breadcrumbs when you have a storm? Celeste pulls the door closed and brushes back the hood of the cloak to reveal blonde hair and tired expression. The Mikin's returned to sleepless nights from the tell-tale dark circles beneath the green eyes. Taran turns as she enters, and there's an inexorability about it - as if he cannot help but turn, and face her. He's up at once, offering his better hand, a warm seat. Mindful of the other patrons, it's quite courtly with a 'my lady' or three in there, but the bard's eyes are worried. Even...just possibly...afraid. "Taran," Celeste surprised at finding the bard's return and even a confused by his manner. She places a hand lightly to the good arm; her gaze flickering over the new bandages and weariness that the bard carries. "Are you alright?" She offers in a lowered voice while following him off to the chair. Taran smiles a bit. Just a bit. "You found me, before the courier found you, then," he says. "But - you are troubled. Do you wish to talk?" "Why would a courier be seeking me," she mutters, more cautious now. A feeble shake of her head seems the only immediate answer. "No, I've not received any message but if they did not know where to look..." The Mikin blushes at the final words. "Just been thinking of what lays in store ahead of us all. And you, Taran? Will you tell me where these new wounds have come from?" The bard's smile is almost sad. "Anything you wish," he says. "But...I would appreciate more private quarters for such discussion, my lady. If you would?" "We could see about a room here," Celeste points to the tender behind the bar. "I am sure that Dianna would not mind renting a room, even for a short time. But.." Her gaze travels over the bard's face, locking to his gaze. "Something is wrong." Taran raises that less-injured hand. "In a moment," he says. "T'is hard enough as t'is." He gets to his feet, and a brief discussion with the inkeep nets him the keys to a room. "Let us go." Celeste slips quietly into the room, a few moments after the bard. Perhaps not wishing to start a scandal, though few seem to take notice of the retreating blonde and even less on the empty hall above. As the door pulls closed, she gives him a curious look. "Taran, what's wrong?" Taran holds the door open for the lady, closing and locking it afterward in silence. The key, he sets on the table before shedding the rain-heavy leather cloak to place on a chair. "I wish to ask you a question," he says carefully. "And despite its apparent absurdity, I am quite serious. Before you answer...you may ask as many questions of me as you wish, and I will answer as best I can." "... alright," Celeste answers, caution returning back to the alto voice. She pulls her own cloak free and tosses it beside the bard's and making her way to sit on the edge of the bed. "Taran, we've had many conversations and if one were to not absurdity, it usually falls from my own lips... and not yours." It is possible that only the bard's training as a performer helps with the level of nervousness he appears to radiate. But he stands easily enough, and his voice is quite clear and even as he asks, "Will you marry me?" Celeste glances up in surprise. The first and foremost important question on anyone's mind. "Why?" She gives a small wave for Taran to come close and join her on the bed. "Why would you wish to marry... well someone blessed by the Light?" Taran blinks. "I wish to marry *you*, Celeste Mikin," he replies, just a bit blank with surprise. "Because I love you. And I loved you before the Silver Dawn. You held light for me before the Light kissed you." "Why do you love me, Taran? We argue like siblings," Celeste inquires. Her hand returning to rest on her lap. "What has happened to bring you to this path? Was it losing..." The noblewoman fidgets with the edge of her corset, leaving the name unsaid. Taran blows out an almost shaky breath, and walks over to cup Celeste's cheek in his hand. "I want you to listen carefully," he says, with only a hint of quaver to the tone. "I have loved you almost since I met you. I loved you before you left on the expedition. I thought of you often while you were gone. I rejoiced that you were among those who returned brighter and stronger than you had left. The love, it is a constant I have tried to shake and to let go and it *will not*, no matter how hopeless even the idea of being with you may seem to be. I am well aware that we argue. I am well aware that half the time we do not even seem to speak the same language to one another; you speak and I do not hear, I speak and you do not hear. And I have found that it does not matter...it even enfolds at times into the totality of what I love." He lowers his hand, looking down as he takes a deep breath. "If you believe that I talked to Gale, you would be wrong. But I could, and did, share my life with her. I had a friend...that I could show the beauty of my world to, even if she often did not see it or understand it. And I knew before her death that I was showing her what I wished to show *you*. And I have found...that I cannot keep substituting this woman or that for you. It...is not possible, anymore." Celeste reaches out to take the retreating hand. "And what of Night's Edge? Taran, please tell me what you believe in? Once you advised that we could never be more than the friends that we were. A friendship that I have fully embraced so much so that I wear this still." She fingers the light's eye pendant. "I believe in the primacy of neither Light nor Shadow," says Taran quietly. "But the balance between them that allows for life and change. And...I know, in Fastheld, we can not be more than friends without asking you to surrender your family, your title...your work. I know this. But there are other lands than these, and ways around the laws...if you want them." "And what price do we pay, Taran," Celeste inquires gently. She reaches up to caress his cheek, studying his eyes. "The prince warned against using such simple words as balance. You once told me that you'd not be content to remain in the Refuge, and that to do so would to be to tether you. " "It is a simple word but a complex concept," says Taran quietly. "So much so that I could not put into words all that it means to me, or how I live it, and I certainly would not wish to try before a Prince who values light over shadow. Yet I tell you, Celeste, the balance is what I serve - the great Song of countless parts, countless instruments, countless notes. And I am...not tethered, any more. I have the means to come to you from anywhere, whenever you might wish me to, and yet explore the world as I need to do." But he's starting to look a bit downcast as he speaks. "I want no other but you. It is selfish, aye, to ask you to surrender...anything, to hide...but if you would refuse then I need to hear it said. I need ...not to assume that I know the answer, but to have heard it." "I do want to hold you, Taran. And at times, I would wish more than anything to have the freedoms that of a freelander. But," Celeste clears her throat softly. Her hand falling back to her lap. "Hope is all I've been able to bring to those who we love, Taran. Without your guidance I would have been lost. You've helped to open my eyes, and guide my steps when they falter. But this path, this trail, is one I cannot walk... not *yet*. If my title is to be removed, let it be for the fool that I am, and not because I have abandoned those who have come to believe in the very ideal what we both brought to life." A half hearted smile touches her lips. "Find a love that you can hold, Taran. Though it pains me to say such, but what life can I truly offer you that would not only bring you more pain." "A life based not in what you cannot do, but in what you can," says Taran quietly, but there's an emptiness in the tone. "Thank you. I needed to hear it said. Some hopes do not die on their own, and must be crushed before they can be abandoned." "I never meant to crush you, Taran," Celeste says in a soft whisper. She slowly rises to her feet, keen to keep her face hidden from that of the bard. "The mages need hope now, my dear one. More so than abandoning them. Too many have already done that of late." Taran blows out a very slow, very careful breath. "I had thought to ...offer ways around the laws," he says quietly. "But a secret affair...you are right. It is too much risk to you." Celeste laughs, voice cracking. "If you truly knew how close I stood on the edge, Taran. Should they take my title, then yes... I will go to the wildlands, and Tshepsi. Perhaps then she could have more use of a broken cleric. But for now," she turns to face the bard. Tears slowly coursing down her cheek. "I must try to be the paladin that you sought for me to be. Can you accept that, Taran?" Taran almost winces, hand reaching automatically to brush away the tears. "Don't cry," he says softly. "Please don't cry. I never wanted to make you cry. It - I am not supposed to kiss you. I am not supposed to touch you. Where is the right in that? That I can not kiss you or touch you, but I can make you cry?" Celeste quirks a half hearted smile, and reaches up to clasp his hand. "You have always touched my heart, Taran. The power to wound, however untentional, even with words." She reaches up to caress his cheek with her other hand. "You helped to guide me to this path, my dear one. Now, you ask me to abandon it. If I did that, then I would cease to hold the very light that catches your heart." "I just wanted...a little light for me," Taran replies, a touch of roughness to his voice. "Somewhere in all the light you shine on everyone else, a little light for me. And I may not have that." He stares down at her hand, holding his. "There are so many things I could do. Want very much to do. And I may not. That is balance, that is control...and it hurts. I think you would not believe how much. I am glad you can not know." "And do you think me so cold as to not to ache for the pain that I've caused," Celeste says softly. She gives a gentle squeeze to his hand. "There are times that choices are made that are even beyond us. Remember the day you brought me the armor, Taran? What did you ask?" "To be truthful...I do not remember," Taran replies, with a faintly breathless laugh. "I only wanted to protect you. The armor will do that better than any skill of mine ever can." "You've a diplomatic tongue," Celeste concedes. "You wanted me to become a knight. Well, my matriarch has put forth my petition for just such an audience, Taran. A means to protect our friends without having to kowtow at every turn." Her hand tightens somewhat. Taran is still watching that hand, holding his. "So many grand causes," he says softly. "There are things I must do as well. Mages outside the walls are in danger as well...I have work to do, there. But I also want...to wake beside you. Hold you, and talk to you, and have you do these things with me." Slowly, he gets to his feet. "You have duties...and so do I," he says quietly. "And I should not put yours at risk of a scandal...that is undeserved." "Will I see you again, Taran," Celeste inquires softly. Her hand slipping away to fall back to her lap when he stands. "Should you need me... you have only to send word." She licks her lips, seeming to have gone dry during their talk. Taran reaches out, then, and lightly touches the pendant that has his rune. "If you need me, or wish to see me at any time...throw this into the air as high as you can. Catch it, and go somewhere quiet. Wait one hour; I cannot always come, but if I can, I will be with you within the hour. Should you be in danger...destroy it." "Danger," this seems to take the Mikin by surprise. "Taran, I'd never bring you to harm, no matter what trouble I find myself. So this rune, it will allow you to find me, then?" She looks down to the pendant, turning it over in her hand. "I feel that I should give you something..." Taran nods. "Memorize the shape of it," he says. "Should you see another person wearing such a rune, it means that a Diviner is watching that person, tracking that person. But it does not track the person - the power tracks the rune. If you wish it not to track you, you have only to set it aside and not wear it. But while you do, I will always know where you are; it is a brightness in my mind." Celeste nods, fingering the gem lightly. "Taran, I'm sorry," she stats in a soft whisper. "I wish I could give you everything that you wished." Taran lipquirks. "Believe me, I wish you could too," he says quietly. "You have no idea how rare you are, how precious. You live in this kingdom where you should have power and see only the long list of things you cannot do, but you try anyway. I would happily come to your room at night, by no door or window, just to hold you and sleep beside you. But I think...to hide such things from the world at large...would tarnish you. Though I can wish it were otherwise, I can not fault you for refusing. I only needed to hear it said." Celeste raises a hand to hide her eyes, nodding. "I understand, Taran. Part of he wishes to be held, but knows that it would be wrong." She brushes her fingers lightly to her eyes. "I will always be here, if you should need me." Taran shakes his head. "I always need you," he says, gathering up his cloak. "It is a constant. Like sunrise. Light keep you and hold you, Celeste. The shadows do not reach so far." "Light guide and protect you, Taran," she calls, uncertainty dances in her eyes. The words little more than whisper to the room while the noblewoman seems to be remaining still to the room.
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