Pain and the Final Farewell

[Lady Aerillia Khisu]

The day had dawned crisp and cool in Emain Macha. While Daniel and Kahlan were away on business, Aerillia was left in their wake. Ever since her arrival with the princess a few days prior, the young woman had stayed at court for the sake of company. As the day wore on however, she soon realized how straining it could be on her nerves.

At lunch, for her presence had been requested as a major land holding Lady (thanks to Kahlan), Aerillia sat and conversed as she ate with a few Lords. The Ladies were almost aghast at how easily the Desert Rose could weave her way through a conversation with a man. Not only was she striking in appearance but she had once been the consort of Theoren Roullier. The only evidence they needed was the loose, non form fitting clothing she wore. That and she never drank a drop of liquor, even when it was offered to her by a gentleman.

"Lady Aerillia, what keeps you in Ulster?" One woman says across the large table. Her husband seated next to her seems to be exasperated by his wife's gall. Yet the woman forged on, "There really must be some reason you stay and do not return to your homeland."

The emphasis on homeland almost makes Aerillia wince. She had been so far gone from the place of her birth that she could really no longer call it home. "I stay for the company M'lady and the conversation." Several of the men guffaw at the way she had spoken to the Lady and the woman, flustered, harumphs at the choice wording. There would be no gossip slipping from her lips despite the fact that she had lunched with the infamous Aerillia Khisu.

When lunch is over, a group of merchants find Aerillia, to her dismay standing next to the fire trying her hardest to grab some time alone. One hands her a glass of chilled juice and she smiles thankfully, her expression grateful in the shadows thrown off by the fire. It was still light out but it was overcast and cold. Inside was warm when one was by a fire, and dressed in a warm green colored dress Aerillia looked almost Queenly with her silken black tresses and smooth tan skin. They chatted for a while, the men and she, about trade and other sorts of trifle things. Aerillia sipped at the juice politely and made conversation where she might, but she was yet in for a great surprise.

At first it felt like a pang and her hand tightened around the glass almost imperceptably and her face hid all emotion she might be feeling. So much so that the men continued to chat about her. Thinking nothing of it she allows a hand to slide down to her belly and rest over it. She was only 3 months along, just far enough along that everything tight was slightly uncomfortable but her belly was still largely not showing.

The next sensation that washes over her seizes her like an arrow through the heart. The hand over Aerillia's abdomen tightens. Her other hand springs open in surprise and the glass falls, the liquid cascading, until it crashes to the floor and shatters. Scatters. Obliterated. The liquid from the glass mingles with the shards and Aerillia, mouth open and eyes wide with shock doubles over.

The men hadnt noticed what was going on until the sound of broken glass filled the room. Most knew of the woman's capacity for pain or other trivial details and so when they saw her double over they knew something was wrong. Closing in around her and trying to find what is wrong, most reel back in horror at the blood that is seeping down the front of Aerillia's gown from her thighs to her knees. One merchant runs from the room to the infirmary, a few of the women that actually liked Aerillia rush to her side and realize the signs arent very good.

The men are practically holding the desert rose up by the time the nurses run into the room. Aerillia fights for a moment but to what end she was trying to achieve no one was really sure. The pain in her eyes and on her face is evidence enough to bring her to the infirmary. One of the older merchants of the group, a man with red and grey hair and rather large, picks the young woman up and carries her to the infirmary.

Pain. That was all she was aware of. Intense, agonizing, tearing pain. It hurt to breathe and it hurt to move. Dimly aware of the warmth pouring down her legs, Aerillia cries out in pain when the man lifts her off of her feet. The journey to the infirmary was spent half concious as her head lolls back and her arm drops limply and hangs there covered in her own blood. When the merchant makes it to the room he sets her down on a bed and is immediately pushed to the side. Others are pushed out of the room as Aerillia's clothing is sliced open and a shift is put on her to keep her warm. The most alarming thing to everyone present as they worked was that she was pale, very pale. Too pale and barely concious as they worked to stem the blood flow that burst forth like a broken dam. The baby was lost and they all knew that, but did she, could she understand that?

Something was wrong. Why did it hurt so badly? Oh god! As if she had just remembered something Aerillia's eyes flare open and she tries to sit up. A cry issues forth, one so primordial that everyone in the room gasps. It hurt and that was more than obvious, yet no one knew why she couldnt stop bleeding. Had the yet under-developed babe not come out yet? No one really knew what to do until a doctor burst into the room from an adjacent room. Orders flew as the woman, yes the woman, bent over Aerillia.

Is this what it feels like before you die? This couldnt be happening, what had she done so wrong that this should have happened? Had she been poisoned? All thoughts melt away as new pain surges to the forefront and Aerillia cries out against it. Throbbing and aching, alive and not waking. The line played out in Aerillia's mind, the old song sung by the midwives in the desert after a stillbirth.

Finally, feeling as if her body had been torn apart, the doctor grimaces at what she sees. "I-Im so sorry. The babe is gone." The words echo around the room for a moment as even the sound of breathing is hushed. No one present in that room wanted to hear that, Aerillia least of all. Yet the newest problem of all was the loss of blood. As the doctor hands a bloodied towel, obviously with the bits and pieces of the exceptionally small fetus inside. Now the blood was everywhere, seeping into the mattress and over most of those present. Yet the real danger now was that Aerillia would hemorrage and die. Already that had begun and the doctor worked feverishly to keep it from continuing.

It hurts, please make it stop. Please. Her whole body felt like lead and when she tries to move she finds she cant without fire lighting her up from the inside out. With the next wave of pain, Aerillia finally slips into blessed unconciousness. Dark and welcomed sleep, and finally she feels no pain though she is not dead.

No, death could not consume the desert rose just yet.

[Kahlan Lothair]

The journey home to Ulster seemed shorter than the expedition out. The air here was harsh, cold, seething. It matched Kahlan's mood and none on the ship were brave enough to go below deck and find the woman. When they had seen her, she was exceptionally quiet and her expressionless face hid whatever she might be thinking.

Her thoughts were on those she would now soon see. How will I tell them? Aerillia, Willow? Oh Willow, you adored Theo. This will break your heart. After she had awoken from her dreamless sleep the early morning after Theo had died, Kahlan had resolved to give him a funeral in one of his favorite places in Ulster. A tear rolls down her cheek as she stands on deck, the wind buffeting her body. It still hurt to think about him, to think of how she could do nothing as the blood drained out of his body...

Shivering some, Kahlan draws her cloak tighter around her body. She doubted she would be able to erase the blood or the experience from her memory. Suddenly the years she had left to live felt so suffocatingly long that the only solace she had was the thought of her daughter. They would need each other to get through this. Lines of fatigue mar otherwise smooth features, she hadnt been able to sleep much on the return journey and above all else she felt exhausted. There was yet more to do as they Dawn came into port, Kahlan standing next to the first mate whom had his on introverted thoughts.

Finally, as the ship is secured Kahlan finally makes a move and utters her first words in what seems like days. "Take his body to the castle. Tell the group of soldiers out front to make a pyre in the garden closest to the sea. When it is done, lay his body on top and wait for me. If anyone tries to speak out against you in this task, direct them to me and tell them to pray. Hell would be gentler than I." The first mate salutes and hurries to get the task done, not wanting to fall under the glazed stare of the quiet woman any longer.

When Kahlan steps onto the dock, a wave of uncertainty hits her as the air gusts around her. Something was wrong, amiss, there was a sense of urgency in the air that urged Kahlan to quicken her steps until she breaks into a flat out run for the castle. She gets there well before the men carrying Theoren Roullier's body and when she bursts through the double doors the somber looks on all the faces cause her to miss a step. "What? Whats wrong? Bloody hell! Give me answers before I start seeking them out myself!"

A servant hurries forward and bows, "M'lady Aerillia lost her baby and very nearly lost her life. Even now she clings on by a thread. Oh, Lady! They have done all they know how to--" But Kahlan was well on her way upstairs to the infirmary, taking the stairs two by two in great bounding leaps. God no, not Aerillia too! Servants flatten themselves against the wall as the High Queen runs down the hall toward the infirmary that seemed leagues away. Her cloak billowed out behind her like a shadow creature tense and ready to spring at any moment. It was enough to break any woman of her spirit!

Slowing to a halt outside the door to the infirmary, Kahlan composes herself as best she can. Those she had left stunned in the entrance hall now starting to filter up the stairs at the end of the hall. Laying a hand on the doorlatch, Kahlan smoothes her hair back from her face and pushes inside.

The smell hit her first. It reeked of blood in the room, as if a slaughter had just been performed in the name of some God or Goddess. Pressing a hand to her throat, Kahlan starts the long walk along the rows of beds which are separated by sheets or other things to obscure the view. Finally she comes to the end of the row and, ready to turn around, stops dead. In a room with the door cracked slightly, Kahlan spies a doctor moving about. She hurries to the door, bypassing all the empty beds left to go and pushes inside. The sight she sees rocks her back on her feet.

Aerillia had always been a proud woman stately even and Kahlan had admired her for it. The dark skinned woman had not been afraid of fate and had gladly danced with it. Yet for all her troubles did she have to end like this? The doctor catches Kahlan's eye and moves over to her. "She fights like a wild animal My Lady. I think she is yet to come out of this. Today she is stronger and we all wish to see her well and among us again. No one can explain why she lost the babe. It was almost as if it tore itself from her body. We worked for a long time trying to keep her from death's gate." Kahlan can only stare at the doctor and when she finds the sensibility to move again she embraces the doctor.

"If there is hope for her then I will gladly work toward the goal of making her stronger." Kahlan moves past the doctor and sits on a stool next to Aerillia's bed. She looked so pale that she could almost feign being a woman of this land. That was the scariest part for Kahlan. That she had lost so much blood she could be so witheringly pale. Amidst that she looked fragile, a trait not often appearing on one of such great pride. Kahlan reaches out and gently grasps Aerillia's hand and squeezes softly. "I dont think I could lose another friend or confidant." Kahlan had not thought about what Theo's death meant for Aerillia's babe. Reaching over and feeling not just a little guilt, Kahlan smoothes Aerillia's raven black tresses away from her face motheringly. "Get well child, Willow and I need you. If that is what you need to have for the will to live, know that Willow and I need you."

Silently, watching the High Queen become the mothering figure to the figure that almost appeared to be wasting away, the doctor closes the door behind her not wanting to disturb.

[Lady Aerillia Khisu]

It was dark. There was no light to guide her on her way. So lonely and so afraid. She felt lost and scared, wandering withering paths that led her in circles. At least the pain had stopped, now it was just numb. Numb. Numb...

Suddenly, as if aware that there was an end to this ardurous journey, she felt like warmth. She began to run, clad in a gossamer gown that caught on every branch that reached out to grab at her. She knew, innately, that she needed that warmth that radiated out from somewhere in the distance. Hurry, it said. I need you, it said.

Slowly Aerillia's eyes open. Gods, why had she woken in this body? Hadnt she been blessed to die after all she had been through? Turning her head slightly, Aerillia sees the last thing she thought she would ever be witness to again in this life. Kahlan. She looked tired and was bent over Aerillia's hand, mumbling something in what looked like a half asleep trance.

"K-kahlan?" Her own voice surprised her. It rasped and felt foreign in her throat. Even speaking hurt, but she was blissfully unaware of the screams that seemed to come from her soul as life itself threatened to wrest itself from her body. Plus her throat was dry. Bless Kahlan, she thinks as the woman props a glass up against her lips and pours the cool liquid down her throat. It felt good and refreshing and she eased down into her pillow again.

"You look sad..." her voice is soft, hardly above the tenor of a whispered breeze. In fact she weaves a small, very simple, enchantment about the words so that the air itself augments her voice which is all but lost. When Kahlan smiles wanly Aerillia's brow knits with worry. She didnt look well at all. Something was wrong. "Tell me."

Feebly Aerillia reaches out to Kahlan and clasps her hand to show her support of whatever Kahlan might have to say.

[Kahlan Lothair]

Kahlan had been surprised to see Aerillia awake and yet she dreaded it. She had almost wished that the woman would sleep through her visit so that she could delay the inevitable. She had to tell the Desert Rose that Theo was gone, but how could she explain that was the reason she had lost her baby? Maybe she wouldnt tell her, that would be safer for them all. What else could she do? Oh and by the way, you coupled with an angel. He had a foreign essence and thats why when he died the baby died.? That would hardly do. Besides that was a heartless interpretation.

When Aerillia demands that Kahlan spill her secret, she is astonished that the woman reaches out to comfort her, when it should be the other way around. Taking a deep ragged breath, Kahlan pushes her hair back from her face and looks to Aerillia and tries hard to smile. The attempt seems to look more like a grimace than the usual sweet and gentle smile Kahlan is capable of.

"I have some bad news Aerillia..." Great start, get the woman hysterical before she had the chance to really know what is going on. Now what would she say? How could she break it to Aerillia? "Theo...Theo is..he's.." and she gesticulates with her hands trying her hardest to say what she wanted to without breaking down into more tears.

"Theo died two days ago." Closing her eyes against the pain, Kahlan also doesnt want to see the expression on Aerillia's face. Out of them both, Aerillia had known the man longer and far more intimately. Though she feared that her feelings may be boiling to the surface as she sits before the ailing woman. Aerillia didnt yet know her feelings for Theo ran as deep as they did. "Oh Aerillia, Im so sorry. Im so sorry for everything. I heard about the baby and I wish I could have been here to help."

Tears spring anew from Kahlan's eyes. Eyes that she thought were dry now found the capacity to cry more tears. The tears roam down the flesh of Kahlan's cheeks to her chin and from there drop onto Aerillia's hand. Rubbing her tears into the young woman's hand, Kahlan stands up and embraces her knowing she would probably need it as much as she did.

[Lady Aerillia Khisu]

When she sees the pain in Kahlan's eyes, she knows that something dreadful had happened. At first her mind immediately turns to Willow. Had something happened to her?

When Kahlan speaks, Aerillia is so shocked that she can do nothing but stare for a long moment. Theo...dead? The next step was denial as she shook her head. "No. No." she manages a cracked laugh as she looks to see Kahlan with her eyes directed down, "You cant be serious. No. No!" The feeling of warm wet tears on the back of her hand only seems to deepen Aerillia's sense of dread and she shakes her head again. Her baby had died two days ago. Had Kahlan not been in the room Aerillia would have sworn that life had cruelly wrested away her only friend next to the High Queen and Willow.

Tears swell in her eyes and when the lids slide closed, the lashes knit together and tears pour from the corners. She didnt know what hurt worse, her heart or her body. When Kahlan embraces her she hugs back fiercely, weeping into the woman's shoulder as much as her aching abdomen will allow. Each sob creates a new sensation of pain and she clutches at Kahlan, unable to stop the tears and the convulsions. She had two souls to mourn: her baby and Theo, the baby's father.

Feeling almost as if she should have stayed asleep, Aerillia seems to find some measure of solace in the Queen. Yet she couldnt help but notice that Kahlan's own despair was not unlike her own. This time when she grimaces, it is for Kahlan. Had she felt for the rogue as Aerillia had? Or had it been something deeper?

Aerillia moves back and lays against her pillows again, unable to breathe for a moment because of the pain. Then she points to the water and drinks when Kahlan pours it down her throat. "Did you love him?" are her only words and she watches Kahlan through half lidded eyes.

[Willow]

The child’s throat had swollen to some degree, the lump wouldn’t cease. It wasn’t the physical type, mind you, purely emotional, the choking kind. It was the very type of emotional choke, with those cold invisible hands, that only you could experience. Those craggy invisible hands will not release, until you have fought off the demon mentally, and cried over your woes aloud to the Gods who would not lend an ear.

Words of death knocked on the doors of a child’s reality. She was only a young thing, five at the most, and learning life’s lessons the hard way. A nurse had begun to trail her behind, having witnessed the outbursts ‘immortalized’ pain and anguish from their own Queen. Screams of outrage, over the death of Theoren Roullier, would forever root themselves within the heart of the Kingdom.

"Theo died two days ago."

A child’s ears should not hear such blunt things. Her mother’s voice had not made it any more comforting, rather, the opposite. Their naïve minds can take an adults world to horrific levels of near insanity. Nurses and maids alike had always grown careless with the princess. They had always allowed her to discover things she ought not to. Willow was properly dressed, as though to attend a royal engagement. With her posture astute, awaiting orders to be addressed by some feigned chimera, who might deliver her uncle once more. Her footsteps moved themselves in a uniformed manner, with the inner furor clearly visible.

Uncle Theo is dead, he’s dead, is dead….

A faint voice held a strangle-hold on her current state-of-mind. Willow responded to this inner being. She reacted to this freshly created voice.

The face of Theoren Roullier appeared to her in several guises. A nurse was no longer the nurse, but a distorted image of him standing there. With that crooked smile and coaxing reassurance. Urging her to have more chocolate, urging her to sit on his lap and share a story of his grand adventures. He had always been like a father. A painting on a wall, a statue, a tapestry, all contained the image of her uncle. They allowed him to become alive in her world once more. Webs of personal deceit, held one another up, by the child’s shock of Uncle Theo’s death.

Hands of encouragement urged her forward, followed by receding footsteps of the one who brought her in. The lump in her throat would not let her be. It would not let her be at peace with silence. She only wanted to hear her mother talk with her Aunty. It soon spoke for her, a croaking sound, a voice that was not hers but someone else’s entirely. Willow stood by the bed cautiously. Sullied eyes instinctively searched for the once swollen belly. Her eyes raked across the ones before her. They demanded answers.

A single word, which held more symbolism and meaning, gave life with a melancholy sense.

“….Aunty…”

She did not move. Willow refused to move those pain-filled eyes. The reaction was great, regardless it caused little stir within her physically.

[Kahlan Lothair]

"I did. Aerillia, we..I...didnt plan..." When Aerillia holds her hand up for Kahlan to stop Kahlan immediately stops. It wasnt the expression she had planned to see. Instead of a frown there was a smile, instead of hateful words there was a small laugh.

"You arent angry?" Heavens why would she be? In so many ways the situation had played itself out to be yet another failure on her behalf. A love lost, and yet Aerillia's smile is something she hadnt expected.

Another thing she certainly didnt expect was the sound of her daughter's voice. Kahlan stiffens considerably as the child says "Aunty". Kahlan had been speaking liberally without considering the fact that her daughter might come to visit Aerillia. Though this is not what really cracks into Kahlan's shell. It was that the nurses didnt check the situation first before allowing her to go. Rigidly Kahlan rises from her seat and turns to smile into her daughter's eyes, the look she recieved spoke volumes. She had heard. God, why? Why did she have to hear like that? They had been talking between adults, she wasnt supposed to hear. Woodenly Kahlan walks over to Willow and picks her up and holds her tightly to her, so tightly that she can feel the little girl's heart pounding against her chest.

"Oh baby, Im so sorry. You werent supposed to hear like this." Kahlan's head snaps up and the ferocity in her eyes causes the nurses to take a step back. Amelia wasnt among them, and heaven knew had she been the princess would have been kept from the infirmary. "Sit with Aerillia my precious, for just a moment. I have something to do."

With that Kahlan sits Willow on the bed with Aerillia, making sure to tell her to be careful before with the lupine grace of a wolf she exits the room. The door slams with such force that it rocks the wall, nearly sending a picture flying to the floor. Outside the scene was much worse.

"How dare you bring a child to the sick bay before checking to see what the situation is!" Her voice is almost feral and the gleam in her eyes is dangerous. Not a few nurses cringe as she takes a step forward. "This was a SENSITIVE situation that should have been dealt with in a proper fashion. You, all of you with her, are now responsible for what that little girl in there feels. She shouldnt have heard it like that. All of you KNOW that!" Her voice never once grows shrill but rather in intensity. The thing that scares most of those present, women and men alike, is that Kahlan never once raises her voice and looks very calm. Dangerous.

"Get out of my site, all of you. You are no longer charged with the princess. You have taken liberty too far and I suggest that you evacuate the castle as quickly as possible because if I see you again, ever, you wont like the outcome." With that she turns on her heels, her cloak flourishing, and leaves them to scurry to get what she asked done. Composing herself before she re-enters the room, Kahlan closes the door quietly behind her and looks at the two before her and manages a wan smile.

"Heaven help me, I dont know what I would do without either of you." Her eyes are virtually grey, as bleak as the ice caps that cover most of the northern lands. Crossing the small room, she pulls Willow into her arms and cradles the girl close to her as she looks to Aerillia.

"The funeral is today. The pyre is in the garden closest to the sea. It is a fitting scene for the man that we have all loved in one form or another. The crew of the Dawn are going to be there. I will have to employ them now..." Her voice cracks and she pulls Willow closer to her, cradling her baby girl as if she might be the only thing that is tethering her to the ground. In many ways she was.

"Aerillia, you are too hurt to come and Willow, my sweet, I fear you are much too young to stand there. I ask you this, my lovely, will you make something for your Uncle? Something that you can send away with him so that he may remember you always?" Thus far Kahlan has simply held the girl letting her draw strength from her mother's body and likewise warmth. She still had to get dressed for the occassion. She still wore Theo's shirt and the breeches she found on the ship.

[Willow]

Her heaven’s now possessed scars of laden sorrow. Who and what, could cure a heart, only beginning to understand the passion of simple affection for another being? A voice that had once filled itself with arrogance, now only contained that of a simple child. She felt reversed from her previous self. Was she supposed to feel this way? Reading the faces of those around her, she understood that it was the only way. Willow dared any hands to break her away from her mother.

"Aerillia, you are too hurt to come and Willow, my sweet, I fear you are much too young to stand there. I ask you this, my lovely, will you make something for your Uncle? Something that you can send away with him so that he may remember you always?"

“…Something…”

“What could the dead possibly need to remember them by?”

Emotional thoughts began to reign over the princess. Her mothers grip managed to keep her within the sane world. Everything held an immense fog of surrealism. It was familiar flesh against flesh and heart against heart.

“I am the princess. I have the power to bring someone back if I demand it!”

“No, you are a simple pawn to your kingdom.”

A thousand voices argued against logic and reason. Her very mind became broken shards of what could have been and what should be. She was intelligent to understand when ‘things’ were being said around her. Instructions to keep her safeguarded from reality struck her ruthlessly. Willow knew that her mother was not doing this out of cruelty, but for maternal instincts and the idea that she had not matured enough for such a scene. Rebellious intentions inflicted her more then the wound itself. Stubborn eyes reached her mother, she still held onto the warmth that ‘illuminated’ both mother and child.

“I will go! I will say goodbye. He is my Uncle.”

[Lady Aerillia Khisu]

The scene between Kahlan and Willow was touching but it hurt a little to see also. She had lost her baby and that would sting for a while, but what else could she do? It was over now.

"Im coming too. We all deserve to stand there, if we dont then who will? You alone Kahlan? Do not think that I will let you bear the weight of such a funeral alone. No. Im coming." Resting her hands on her abdomen she smiles a smile as if to dare anyone in the room to try to contradict her.

Who was the queen here? Aerillia looks to Willow and smiles reassuringly, knowing that the child could only find comfort in her mother for now. She hoped beyond hope that she would be able to live past the event. Kahlan had been right, Willow shouldnt have learned like this. Kahlan was right to be angry.

When the doctor comes in the room Aerillia, in no small way, argues her point in going to the funeral. The doctor finally consents so long as someone is close by to Aerillia every moment she is away. So it was settled, she would go. When she moves to get out of the bed, she is glad she moved away from Kahlan and Willow for the mask of pain on her face cannot be concealed. She would do it, she had to do it.

First she had to get dressed, and that she couldnt do by herself. With the help of the doctor and a nurse, Aerillia looks pale but smiles to Kahlan anyway. "Time to get dressed. Go, dont worry about me. I'll be fine with the doctor."

[Kahlan Lothair]

So they would join her. In so many ways Kahlan couldnt say she was ungrateful for their company. It would have been a lonely lonely funeral without them nearby. Still she worried for Aerillia's physical health and Willow's mental health.

Smoothing Willow's hair back from her brow, Kahlan presses a kiss against her warm flesh. It felt good to have the girl in her arms again. She had missed her something fierce when she was gone. "Alright, you can both go. You both loved him too."

Long fingers run through Willow's hair and Kahlan breathes in the scent of the girls hair. "You wont have to leave Mum's side my love. Not until you are ready again. I know it hurts baby, so cry. Its okay, Aunty and Mommy have cried too." Even now a few tears glisten as they trail down her cheek to mingle in Willow's hair. After a while Kahlan stands up with Willow in her arms and shifts the girl's weight so that she is resting on her hip and she ventures to their quarters, silent the entire way. Just letting Willow soak in the sound of her mother and the feel of her.

"I'll dress you myself my dear. Come lets pick out something that your Uncle Theo would have loved to see you in." Moving over to the closet, Kahlan keeps Willow in her arms so that they can find a dress she likes. When they do Kahlan dresses her with a gentle efficiency and then smiles. "He will smile down on you my darling." Finally Kahlan hits her knees in front of the girl and pulls her into a hug. "He loved you baby. Dont ever forget that. He loved you very very much."

When she pulls back, Kahlan wipes some tears from her eyes before Willow can see them. "Come, help mommy find something to wear." In fact she had the perfect dress in mind and she would show it to Willow when they went into the closet. It was of some fine fabric that was exquisitely crafted and in so many ways obviously not some ordinary dress from this world or existence. The dress is black, but not just any black, it is as dark as the void between the stars in space. That alone is not the strangest thing about the dress. The gown seems to have something buried deep within the recesses of the darkness, small orbs of light. When Kahlan pulls it out it is almost breathtaking in its beauty. It seemed as if the heavens themselves were captured in the dress, and whenever she moved it the stars and universes moved too, as if time and space were of no consequence there.

When she pulls it onto her body the neck of the dress rises high on her neck but the body of the dress is tight against her body, outlining it well. When she moves the galaxies and stars chase he movements, as if she were simply the embodiment of the goddess of night or star. Kahlan smiles and hands a brush to Willow. "Brush mama's hair precious?"

It would be hard to keep eyes on the pyre with a dress such as this floating among the attendees and yet she couldnt help but wear it. She wore it to many a funeral as she committed body to flame and the soul to the heavens. She knew that Theo's soul had long since left its shell and would need no coaxing, but it was still proper to dispose of his body in an honorable fashion. This she would do, just as soon as her daughter brushed her hair if she was able.

[Lady Aerillia Khisu]

The way to her room was paved with pain, or so Aerillia would swear. Every step, every movement, created some new wave of pain. In some instances it was all Aerillia could do to stay on her feet as she clutched the arms of the nurse and doctor.

"This is madness Lady Aerillia. You'll only hurt yourself worse by doing this!" The doctors nagging voice sifts through the pain that the Priestess is trying so hard to deal with and thus it makes her snap. Turning to look at the woman, Aerillia removes her hand carefully from the Doctors.

"I dont think you understand the situation, Doctor. I am going to this funeral. No one is going to stop me. Kahlan, the High Queen, wont even stop me. So how do you suppose you'll even begin to try?" Narrowing her brilliant blue eyes on the Doctor, Aerillia tries to stand tall and somehow manages to exhude a powerful presence. The doctor finally admits defeat and quietly guide's Aerillia the rest of the way to her room.

Once inside, Aerillia manages to get a servant to look at her. It was amazing to her, that in order to get attention she had to be hurt in one of the worst ways. "I need to dress for a funeral. Nothing too tight, I can barely breathe much less stand on my own for long." She waivers slightly and eases herself into a chair as the servant hurries into her closet. Aerillia didnt have an exceptional amount of clothing, but Kahlan had been nice enough to give her some gowns early in her visit, most of which she has yet to wear.

"How's this M'lady?" The servant asks and Aerillia rests her chin on her palm and eyes the gown from afar. "I think you have chosen well. Thank you." The servant bows low and the Nurse helps Aerillia up as the servant and doctor prep the dress. Finally, when the gown is on her they all take a step back as far as they dare and look her over. It was a very nice dress indeed. The dark red fabric fits well to her form without clinging or squeezing her, long bell sleeves fall to rest at about her first set of knuckles. The neckline is modest with a slightly boxy finish. As she shifts her body, it almost seems like a black sheen crosses the surface, chasing shadows over her body. It looks exquisite on Aerillia with her dark skin and long wavy black hair.

After the servant brushes out her hair, Aerillia waves her off before she can put it up. With the aide of the doctor and the nurse, Aerillia begins her journey toward the stairs and when it becomes apparant that she may not be able to make it down without losing her breath entirely, the doctor flags a soldier down and rather unceremoniously, he hefts Aerillia into his arms and carries her down the stairs. For once, the Desert Rose is uncomplaining...something that Theo would never have thought her capable of.

The only stop the soldier makes when he gets to the ground floor is to get the remarkably light woman in his arms a warm cloak. The doctor and nurse hurry behind him, one requesting a chair to be brought out for Aerillia while the other keeps up pace with the fast soldier. Once outside Aerillia is surprised to find that the chill steals her breath away and she tries to shrug the cloak closer to her body. In so many ways the chill fit the mood of all the ones that had ever known Theoren Roullier as a man, not as a theif or a vagabond.

When the small entourage carting Aerillia to the funeral finally arrives in the sheltered garden, the reality and the finality of the situation weigh on the Desert Rose and she closes her eyes tight against the tears. She almost swore that the chill in the air might actually crystalize the tears as they fell. No matter how hard she tried, she couldnt help but let a few more warm tears slide down her cheeks. The pyre was ready to be lit and the crew of the Dawn was standing next to what could only be the body of Theoren Roullier, wrapped in canvas and ready for the ceremony that would ensue soon.

So close to him, and yet so far away! Aerillia squeezes her eyes shut as she presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. It was so difficult, so hard, to understand. Hadnt he said that as long as he was alive she would be safe? Now, it almost felt as if the Desert Rose was falling down an endless well. She feared where she might land.

[Kahlan Lothair]

Kahlan waited patiently as Willow took hold of the brush and started to brush her hair. A smile finally dapples her features and when Willow is almost through, Kahlan turns around and whisks her up holding her close and twirling her around. "Mama loves you Aria." She smiles despite the sadness in her heart and hopes that it might help her daughter get through it.

"I know mama. I love you too!" Willow says, and her words give Kahlan heart and she holds the girl close to her again. Could she ever fathom loving another like she loved her daughter? This child was the best gift that anyone could have bestowed upon her. Smiling lightly Kahlan sets Willow down just long enough to fix her dress, a nice dark green silk, and make sure that she's bundled up to go out in the cold. Reminding herself that she isnt entirelly impervious to the cold, Kahlan snatches a cloak off of a nearby chair and throws it around her shoulders. She holds her hand out to Willow and smiles as the girl hurries over and places her tiny hand in her mother's.

Together the look as regal as their title's imply. Kahlan's long hair is down about her shoulders, mingling with the dark cloak she has on. Willow's is down as well, her hair a darker shade of blonde than her mother's but no less beautiful. Kahlan looks down into her daughter's big green eyes and smiles gently, squeezing her hand reassuringly. Kahlan had no idea how she could ever get along without the girl, ever.

The two descend the stairs quietly, Willow holding onto her mother's hand and a fistful of her mother's gown. Kahlan takes it easy, keeping pace with her daughter without rushing headlong into something she didnt exactly want to do. The pyre would be the end of Theoren-that-was. In so many ways Kahlan didnt want to have to believe that.

Before exiting into the courtyard, Kahlan straps on her sword belt and situates it on the hip opposite Willow and then she smiles down to her. "Let's go love. I cannot put this off any longer." The sadness in Willow's eyes tore at Kahlan's heart. It was almost unbearable to witness the innocence of her daughter's world taken apart piece by piece. Long fingers wrap around the tiny hand offered to her, and Kahlan smiles guiding her daughter out into the cold air and to the garden with the pyre set up.

The overcast sky appears forboding while the wind whips about like a cast off lover bent on revenge. Involuntarily, Kahlan tugs her cloak closer as she emerges from a stand of old trees with Willow close at her side. Her gaze is unreadable as she looks from Doctor and Nurse to Aerillia and the Guard. To the side she could see the canvas wrapped body that almost seemed insignificant in its stiff garb. Almost. The crew of the Dawn stood in a tight knot around the body, the only sign that what was within had any meaning. Kahlan rests her hand on Willow's head and smiles down to her, the smile almost forced despite the calming presence of her daughter. "Go stand next to Aunty, she will need your support Aria." Silently she watches as her daughter leaves her shadow, for this Kahlan had to stand alone.

"Carry the body to the Pyre." She says as she walks toward the neatly stacked pile of wood. The wind tears at her, whipping her hair about and snatching her cloak from her hands. The void black dress seems to flicker slightly and Kahlan stands resolutely in the face of whatever adversity might try to call heaven or hell down upon her head. She watches as the body is laid out on the flat bed of wood, wondering if this was a dream. The canvas would not be unwrapped, it would be less traumatic for those present if they did not see what Kahlan had. So much better.

Slowly, but with resolve, Kahlan steps toward the pyre and when within five paces of it she lays a hand on the hilt of her sword. Taeriss, the legendary elemental sword of flame, seemed to be a simple ordinary sword even as she slides it out of the scabbard. Its flame had been extinguished when Theo had fallen, the memory plagues Kahlan's mind as she brings the sword up to touch the tip of the blade to her forehead. Reaching up to her throat, Kahlan grabs at the tie holding the cloak about her shoulders and pulls it free. The cloak flutters to the ground in the breeze, now not as angry, like a phantom.

The sleeveless gown is breathtaking along with the stance that she is in, with the cold steel of the blade pressed to her forehead, the hand she used to free the cloak now touching the blade. Ritualistically Kahlan lifts the blade above her head and whispers a few words, as if reconsecrating what was lost. In response the blade flickers to life. At first the flame is small and meek, and then it steadily grows stronger until flames lick up and down the blade without apparantly erroding the blade.

"Offer up your last thoughts as I touch this blade to the pyre..." Her words are whispered and yet they seem to take a life of their own as they reverberate around the garden. Slowly Kahlan lowers the blade as she takes a few more steps forward, her dress whispering as the breeze slowly starts to die as if in anticipation of what is to come. Finally, with a thrust, Kahlan extends her sword arm so that the sword slides deftly into the pile of wood under the lifeless canvassed body.

At first the flames are not recognizable. However, soon an orange blue glow begins grow in strength and intensity. Kahlan takes a few steps back and bows from the waist in an act of showing that this person was honorable despite what others might have thought of him. When she rises, as if reacting to her movement, the flames spring forth and build higher and higher. The flames start to lick at the canvas covering Theoren Roullier and Kahlan fancies the flames were tasting him to see if they would accept this offering.

"And so it ends..." Her whisper is lost as the roar of the flames pick up in intensity. Turning her back to the pyre, Kahlan looks to Aerillia and those standing around her. The grief on their faces was evident and Kahlan motions to Willow. When the little girl is with her she smiles and kneels next to her. As she does so, something catches her eye and she looks up.

The first snow of the year was starting to fall and Kahlan smiles very lightly. It would feel like the longest winter in the history of Ulster, but eventually it would pass as all things do. As she looks into Willow's eyes snow flakes start to gather on her shoulders, in her hair, and on her eye lashes. "Thank you for being here today." And so, Kahlan inducts her daughter into a world she would rather hide her from with a single kiss on her forehead.

[Lady Aerillia Khisu]

Aerillia accepted Willow's company with open arms and took her by the hand. She had always delighted in the little girl's company, now even more so. With the girl's warm hand in her own, Aerillia watches as Kahlan lights the pyre asking for their last words.

"So this is the end Theo?" Her words are whispered and masked by the breeze which so lovingly tends to its mistress. "Im surprised this is the end to your story. May we meet again some day." And when the pyre brightens with flame, Aerillia nods her head and exhales slightly, a gentle breeze rises in the stagnant air and feeds the flames.

She feels Willow leave her side and watches woodenly as the little girl stands before her mother. Stars, how this has worn on Kahlan! Aerillia thinks to herself as she winces in pain. Finally finding the chair brought for her worth her while, she settles into it just as the snow starts to fall.

It had been a while since Aerillia had been privaledged enough to see snow. As flakes fall on her exposed skin and melt, the Desert Rose wonders if it were more of a blessing that she was brought here by Theo rather than her own personal curse. Long tendrils of inky black hair become littered with the gems of snow as she watches the pyre burn higher and higher, the flame arcing and cavorting like a dancer. A dancer. Tears spring to Aerillia's eyes as she remembers the time that both she and Theo had danced on the beach when neither wanted to be who they were by day. Both seeking an outlet for the fear or loathing they felt. The tears slide down her cheeks as she quietly watches the fire.

It would be a long while before any of the women or crew present could begin to let Theo's memory fade enough so that they might smile without the tears that so plague them now.

[Theoren Roullier]

As the flames gathered along the canvas covered corpse the crewmen of the Crimson Dawn bowed their heads. Their captain was gone. The man they'd known through the best of times and the most peril they'd ever seen, the man they could rely on to get them through all the dangers the sea had to offer, a friend, a mentor, a legend... stolen from them by the fleeting winds of change. Theoren Roullier would not soon be forgotten by these men who saw him for the man behind the myth.

The First Mate stepped up to the pyre, his hat in his hands. His knuckles were white from gripping the fabric so hard and the hot tears in his eyes made him turn them from the raging fire consuming the body of a man he had called friend. When he did speak to the Queen it was in a voice so soft with heartbreak that over the crackling of the flames he was barely heard. "My name is Jonathan McMillan. I sailed with my captain for ten years before... he finally gave in to the death he saved us from so many times." The sound of the lump rising in his throat was an audible gasp as Jonathan choked on his tears. "Without him, our crew is lost. Our compasses will no longer point north, our sextants will be uneven, and the stars won't shine brightly enough to see in the night sky. My captain... will be remembered for what he was to us. He was more than a pirate, m'Lady. He was the greatest man to ever sail these waters. He would have challenged Neptune himself for us, and not a man among us would have done less for him."

His piece said the first mate reached out towards the heat of the all consuming fires and laid his hat on the corpse with a shudder, and a silent sob as if some great pain was being released with the gift. By now each of the crewmen had gathered around Jonathan and one by one they too laid a personal effect on the body, each in turn shedding a silent tear for the captain who had been their Northern Star for as long as they could remember a love of the water.

They were not the only ones watching the flames caress the body of the great pirate. The gentle sea breeze held a different smell to it today and whipped between all of the men against the weather front, the smell was of southern waters, and an almost audible sigh lay on the air. Jonathan thought for a moment if he turned around perhaps Theoren would be standing there. Perhaps it was a dream. But even he was not so foolish to think that the waters would give up their dead.

None could see him, none could hear him, and it was as if he did not exist among them. With a spirit so weak he could only stay for mere moments, he soared over the waters and up the cliffside to the pyre for one last chance to say goodbye to the ones he had loved so dearly in life. One by one the crew began to look up and around as if the very presence of the entity toying with their tunics and hair was ringing in their minds. Alas, there was nothing to their eyes, and perhaps it was only their sorrow playing tricks on each other... yet as they looked to one another and the recognition filled their faces, slow smiles spread as they realized who it was that played tricks on them this day.

Around Aerillia the wind slid, catching the folds of her dress and running finger like wisps of air around her beautiful face. He had taught her all he needed to now. She was free to move on, free of his presence and her hatred, a changed woman. It was time for her to move on, and she knew this. If the wind could have smiled, it would have. If it could have said goodbye, it was now.

Little Willow's hair began to swirl over her head, the familiar salty and spiced scent of her seafaring uncle wrapping her like the canvas mainsail that wrapped his mortal body. His little Willow. How he would watch her grow from his place among the stars. Softly in the child's mind a voice she knew so well would float through and remind her of just how proud he was of his noble princess, and always would be. There was a small clatter at her feet as she was looking up to find what creature was playing with her, and low and behold there by her shoes laid a wax wrapped bar of chocolate, just like the kind her beloved uncle used to bring her from the south.

When the wind finally came to settle on the Queen, her beautiful golden hair picked up and moved back from her face as the wisps of air touched her eyelashes, brushed over her lips and slid about her neck like the adoring touch of a lover. His beautiful angel. The dress would press against her as the wind enveloped her like a serpent around prey and left one last touch and a kiss on her soft lips and a lingering thought in her mind, I love you...

But it was time to go now; already he could feel that the light was calling him home. And as those attending the funeral looked on in wonder as the body of Theoren Roullier was burned to ashes for the last time, the remains began to pick up on the strange and playful wind in a cyclone of soot and dance on the sentient breeze over the stone and grass of the courtyard towards the cliffside. There, he released them and allowed them to float on the ocean's wind spiraling their way out over the dark blue waters he had loved so much.

As for the breeze, it picked up and swirled through the trees before diving off the rocky embankment towards the crashing of the waves against granite, off to frolic among the waves just as the bells of the castle rang high noon.

Free at last...

[Willow]

Those invisible hands that had once clenched around her throat now came onto a new free-spirited life. They righteously spread themselves around her body, secluding the sorrow to a greater height of relief. She had willingly, watched the loyal men, carry the dead weight to the pyre that had once been her intrepid uncle. Flames ate at the once living mass of flesh, bone, heart, and pure intelligence that had been carried by such a gracious soul known as: Theoren Roullier. Eyes became crystallized into a new kind of shock and acceptance. They widened upon the touch of something solid. ‘It’ lay possessed and yet unanimated in the palm of her free hands. She had clenched the waxed making of a simple candy, only hoping that it would take place of her uncle’s hand instead. Willow had silently taken in the wafting voice of love and promise. She grew angry with her uncle. The one that promised to protect her always…her inner voice argued with his weak spirit.

You promised you wouldn’t leave me!

You left my mama and Aunty! You left your friends! You left like papa! Why should I forgive you!

The voice brought comfort and reassurance like no other, a voice sounding of a father-figure. Uncle Theoren had made her new promises to watch where he now dwelled. The present voice spoke to her one last time. Her ears intentionally ignored the sounding of a bell that craved tribute to Theoren Roullier.

I will watch you forever and always my Willow…forever and always.