Shield of Silverhall

Wynnsaren had never considered that a sunset might be a sight so passionate. For two reasons she decided that she was glad of her impaired vision: one, she suddenly felt that it would be the worst kind of voyeurism to stare at the amorous pair of sun and horizon, and two, she'd miss out on Rasven's description of it. A tragedy of the highest order!

It might have occurred to her then as well -- had her mind been a bit less foggy, less overstimulated -- that this merchant prince had completely missed his calling as a great seducer of women. A rake of renown. Rumors of such a reputation had not reached her ears, but if they had, she might. . .at this point, believe them.

Wrapped in his warm embrace, with his breath and the smooth tenor of his voice tickling the ridge of her ear, Wynnsaren could not conceive of a time or place where she had ever felt more whole and happy. There was this strange dichotomy of being so comfortable with such proximity to a man and at the same time being completely overwhelmed by him.

"I am not certain I can bear another gift, Rasven," she murmured with a lazy smile, her clouded eyes opening but halfway to stare out into the vast gray beyond them. "It is all so much to take in! The stars, the sunset. . .good gods, you! I am just a simple girl, have mercy!" Wynn laughed lightly and wriggled farther into his arms.

"As my time here is so limited however, if you have something to show me, than I how am I to refuse?"

"Close your eyes," Rasven whispered the command into her ear. Upon seeing her obey, the half-elf released her right hand to retrieve a small item hidden within a small extra-dimensional pocket in his sleeve. "You must keep them closed until I request you open them. It will be but a moment, Wynnsaren. Fear not, the sun has not yet been cradled into his lover's embrace."

A brief moment of silence followed as Rasven awaited the proper time. He held her close, rested his head peacefully next to hers, listened to the easiness in her breath, and basked in the smell and softness of this woman he so adored. He smiled at what was about to take place, anticipating in his own thoughts how her heartbeat would suddenly increase at the sight. The perfectly smooth contours of the object felt cool in his palm.

"Do not open your eyes, Wynnsaren," he reminded. "Are you ready for your gift?"

She nodded lightly, and he could not help but admire her beauty. Despite the distraction, Rasven raised the small, translucent orb before her eyes, and, in so doing, lifted the blindness that clouded them. With her eyes closed, the orb granted her perfect vision while peering through it as though they were completely open . . .

With eyes tightly shut she listened silently to the familiar white noise of the sun, when quite suddenly, darkness dissolved into brilliant light!

"Rasven!" Wynnsaren gasped in more fear than wonder at first, clutching for security at the arm that was wrapped around her as the whole of the world was cast into flame. Her weak eyes burned painfully beneath their lids at the onslaught of such unfathomable radiance, but she could not bring herself to turn away. The sun was a terrible and beautiful thing!

As it slowly melted into the welcoming arms of its beloved horizon, the sun bled colors of stunning hues into the sky. Reds, oranges, and even purples radiated from that one point of passionate coupling. A layer of strange cotton-like masses spanned the sky overhead, their undersides reflecting the beauty that was transpiring below. Clouds!, Wynn realized after a moment, as a smile bearing its own semblance of brilliance stretched slowly across her face and laughter bubbled unbidden from her lips.

The beauty of the stars was a comfort to the aasimar. Unparallelled in her own mind, but this sun. . .this had a glory all its own! She wept from the majesty and power she was bearing witness to, as much as the agony it was causing, for her eyes were never meant for this sight. Her clouded vision was as much a part of her as the calling of the gods. Not a deficiency, just a difference, she understood. This chance to see the sun as other men see. . . just for a moment, at the side of this incredible man. . . This was a moment in her life that would stand out amongst all others!

Just when she thought the pain was becoming too great to endure any longer, the radiance blessedly dimmed and the sun disappeared beneath Lake Reykal.

"How ever did you do that?" Eyes still closed, she finally spoke in a ragged whisper, sagging and trembling in Rasven's arms from the ordeal. "How do you bear such brilliance? So much beauty. . . " Everything was red in her sight and her head pounded with exquisite pain, but the smile on Wynnsaren's face was unquenchable!

Chuckling at her own questioning barrage, she brushed the moisture from her cheeks and chanced one more. "How do all people everywhere not stand gaping at the horizon every evening?"

"Because people everywhere take for granted those things which they have been gifted," Rasven stated simply, answering her final question first. Though the truth of such a statement was spoken with a hint of sadness, he found it impossible for any such grain of sorrow to hold sway over him at this moment. The woman he held so close had come alive with the sun's absence, runes erupting like lines of silver fire upon her cheeks, and a halo of ghostly luminescence twinkling above her head. She embodied the beauty and majesty of the very night coming alive all around them, and he embraced her. There existed a surreal quality to the whole thing that far surpassed any gift of magic he had to offer. Wynnsaren was far more precious than anything he had ever known.

"You may open your eyes," he whispered to her, his breath warm against her ear, if not a little short as the nearness of her suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. Awkward that it should hit him now, after all the time the two of them had spent in the other's company these past two days, but the power of her presence had grown with the coming of the comforting stars and amorous moon! He promptly fought an urge of virtually undeniable impulse to kiss her just then, and never had he known a foe more overbearing than this one!

Luckily, as her eyes fluttered open, they settled upon the magnificent orb Rasven held before them, else he knew his struggle would be chiseled in plain sight on his face!

"This small sphere of imperishable crystal provided your opportunity for sight," he explained, using the words to somewhat break him of the spell she had unwittingly enchanted him with. "It was a gift to me from the Expanse many moons ago--from my first trip into its jungles, in fact. It is precious to me, Wynnsaren, and yet I would like you to hold on to it for a time. Not forever, not this, though please do not think me crass not giving it over to you completely. As it offered you sight, so too does it offer me hope . . . . "

He meant to continue without pause, but something caught in his throat just then that needed swallowing before he could. "I thought perhaps you would be interested in keeping it close, however; keeping it safe for me. There is no one I trust more to do so than you, being that you own so much of me already."

Hope?  Hope for what?

The aasimar turned toward him, lambent eyes filled with questions, intending to ask him just that very one and indeed she would have if she hadn't been so stricken by the full weight of that devastating steel gaze which quickened her pulse and rooted her to the deck beneath them.  

He was so tantalizingly close!  So warm and inviting. . .  

If she just tilted her head. . . lifted her chin just a bit. . .

Something akin to pain flickered across Rasven's face and she felt the cool weight of the crystal sphere pressed into her hand.  It was enough to startle Wynn back to her senses.  Reluctantly and somewhat embarrassingly so.

"Keep it safe for me."  The merchant prince repeated the plea in a strained voice.

Wynnsaren looked down at the egg-sized sphere resting in her palm.  Utterly translucent, the orb appeared flawless, no scratches or distortions or imperfections within, and likewise there were no markings or runes or anything that might infer the object to be magical at all.   Nothing but its perfection alluded to such properties.

But why would he give her such an object?  She sensed that it was not entrusted to her as an aid to help her see during the day, nor would she desire to use it as such considering the pain that yet radiated behind her eyes.  Certainly an item so clearly important to him would be safer secreted about his person or tucked securely away in the Winter Estate, than given to a nomadic half-angel whom the gods were amused to randomly throw into harm's way.  War or no, if Rasven was only concerned for its safety than it would've stayed with him!  If someone or something was hunting for the object, he wouldn't have put her at risk by allowing her to carry it.   So why then?

He was taking another risk with her, she realized.  Just like the Osiowet he'd sent following her first visit to Silverhall, so too did this smack of something with a deeper hidden meaning.  Something that he wouldn't. . .or perhaps couldn't talk about!  That had to be it!  Rasven knew of her love of puzzles and certainly her dogged persistence in following a lead, so of course he would assume she'd look into the properties and origins of such a mysterious object held in such high import to him!  A slow smile curled the corners of her lips.  He'd given her a clue to himself!

"If this orb is precious to you than it is also precious to me."  In lieu of pockets, Wynnsaren tucked the sphere into the confines of her bodice and pressed her hand over it.  "Thank you for your trust in me, Rasven.  I will keep it close to my heart and safe until I might return it to you upon my next visit, which I dearly hope will not prove to be too far in the future!"

Turning her face toward the darkening tapestry above them, the aasimar gently closed her eyes to hear the first strains of music as one by one the stars began to appear.  A wistful sigh escaped her lips.

"You have shared so much with me these past two days," she smiled.  "Sights I never thought I would have the pleasure of seeing and experiences I have never known. . .    Most especially, you have shared about yourself; as much as you are able and without reservation.  That is the gift I will most treasure, for that cannot have been easy for you what with my propensity for inquisitorial conversation."  Wynnsaren grinned and took his hand in hers.

"I am not one of these people everywhere who take gifts for granted, for so much in my life has been so very transient.  Likewise, I cannot take you for granted, Rasven Winter, for I see who you are.  I think I have from the very beginning.  No," she shook her head before confirming the speculation, "I know I have!

"You have shown me my first sunset -- likely my only one, but even after bearing witness to such grandeur and believing it to be my last, I cannot consider my clouded vision as a curse when I can see your heart so very clearly.  And I think," Wynn raised his hand to her face and pressed her cheek against it endearingly, "that you can see mine too."

A bright smile alit on her face as a particular thought came to her then.  The aasimar squeezed his hand and sat down there on the deck of the Frozen Myth with her legs folded, before encouraging Master Winter to join her.

"As you have been so overwhelmingly generous with me, perhaps you will allow me to share one of my gifts with you," she suggested as he sat beside her.  "I do not possess any magic that would allow you to truly hear them, nor do I even know if such magic exists I am afraid, but I would very much enjoy the attempt of sharing with you my own experience of the song of the stars."

Wynnsaren could not sing.  In truth, she'd never properly tried, for how could anything be as compelling and beautiful as the music she was surrounded with every evening?  No, instead she tried to describe it for him, how Cynosure, the maestro would begin the symphony.  One tone, one rhythm that underlay all of the separate parts played by each of the constellations as they appeared and danced through the sky around that fixed point.  They were all in harmony with one another and yet sang different melodies each in their cluster with whom they were tied.  How often she lost herself within those strains as they cresendoed overhead and then diminished only to make way for a new refrain to begin, and though she knew them all by heart, each night seemed to bring a new understanding; a new interplay or treble that she hadn't heard before.  Always Cynosure was the underlying pulse and the tone that carried through them all, allowing her to find her way back.  As it was the first star in the sky to appear, the pole star was also the last, closing the grand composition in the same way it began.

She hadn't known what to expect when she came to visit Rasven Winter, but it certainly wasn't this.  When she found herself hours later, leaning against the railing of this great ship, her fingers twirling lazily in the silken hair belonging to arguably the most powerful man in Brevoy, while he lay stretched out on the deck with his head in her lap as they watched (and listened) to the stars overhead, she did not fight the warmth that clutched at her heart.  

Wynnsaren was happy.  Not simply content but truly happy, as if she was finally part of that harmony that existed so far above her!  Ridiculous as it may seem in the time they'd spent together, she knew she loved this man, and she was far too happy to even be terrified by what that meant.