Part 12
So the day went on to evening, and the night grew darker, And the sky above had but a sliver of the moon. But the evening passed in peace, and silence, and next morning Dawned, and so the villagers continued to prepare. “Hmm hmm hmm,” hummed Marter that day, sitting by the fountain, Chewing on a piece of fish he’d cooked for his own lunch. “Hahaha,” he chuckled, laughing, up at the sky gazing. “What is it?” asked Saera, who came to him and sat down. “I’ve been chosen for a special role in the festival. Oakflower named me the Rose King, master of it all. I’m to set the party off, and lead the parade after. It’s a kind of fairy role, a role of high esteem. It is said our ancestors long ago worshiped fairies; I am happy that these days we are Christian instead. But, still—me! The Rose King! I’m surprised, and very honored.” “Don’t be so surprised,” said Saera, sitting next to him. “Everyone in town thinks you’re the best person who lives here. I have heard it, from all of the people that I meet.” “Well,” said Marter, blushing, “I suppose I hear the rumors. What about you, Saera? What do you think about me?” Saera blushed herself, and turned away, her pale cheeks blazing. “I-I think you’re very nice,” she said, then shifted gears: “So, I guess that Rose won after all, wouldn’t you say so?” “I suppose she did,” said Marter, staring at the sky. “But I cannot stop the feeling that trouble is coming-- Not today, perhaps, and not for quite some time to come. But violence always begets violence of some kind. Even when violence is justified, there’s trouble still. We must always take great care when we our fortunes alter. Any change can bring a risk, a risk that all must bear.” “So what would you have done?” Saera said, turning back towards him. “What would you have done, if you had had command of Rose? Would you have told her to stop, or not to act entirely? If she had a chance to free your village, would you act?” “It would be… quite tempting,” Marter said, “but I’d be worried, Worried for the reasons that I’ve spoken of before. Violence sometimes IS the only choice—I don’t say different. But were things really so bad, that that was the case here? We dealt with the bandits, true, but never did they hurt us. We paid our tribute of roses, and we were at peace. Sometimes you should just choose to endure the things you suffer. Sometimes all you CAN do is endure, until the end. It’s not so bad, really; suffering is temporary. This life lasts a little while, only a short time. But the life beyond will last forever—so they tell us, And what happens to us there depends on how we act. So our conflict must be minded, eh? We must be careful. And, sometimes, that means that we must endure suffering. Suffering and death are not the worst things that can happen. More things, in this life and in the next, are to be feared.” “I… I suppose so,” said Saera, troubled all a’sudden. This position was not one she’d considered before. Was her soul’s condition something she ever paid mind to? Did she ever wonder what would happen when she died? She thought about all the times she’d used her powers cruelly. Would she be judged for that? Would she be held to account? “Saera, what do you think of me really?” Marter asked her. “Oh!” said Saera, jumping; she’d been lost in her own thoughts. But now her embarrassment went surging through her pale face, And again she flushed, as she turned to him where she sat. “Saera, I have seen you looking at me,” Marter went on. “I’ve seen all your staring; it was very hard to miss.” “Oh...” cooed Saera, cheeks aflame, her silver eyes aglimmer, As the wind blew harder, with the heat of summertime. “Saera, I think you’re so pretty,” Marter said, in quiet. “I think you’re so kind and smart, and gentle, too,” he said. “I’m not gentle,” Saera said. “I am cruel and capricious. I’m not worthy of you.” “Yes you are!” said Marter then. “Saera, I know that you love me—and I love you also!” “What--” said Saera, turning—Marter kissed her on the lips. They were locked in lips’ embrace for minutes, as the wind blew, As the Spring wind billowed, as it made the roses sway. Saera murmured gently, but she leaned into the kiss then, And allowed herself to feel the warmth of Marter’s touch. Finally they broke away, and Marter smiled at her. “I know that you have to leave soon,” he quietly said. “So, Saera, please spend the day with me—please do, I beg you.” Saera blushed, and smiled. She laughed; silver eyes were bright. “I shall,” she said, speaking gently, but with such great power. So she let him take her hand and lead her. Off they went.
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