White Wings (Mero-Oneshot)

[Merokin]

Yes, it is I, the Queen Mero. 0: More fanfiction typisms that I wrote on a whim. Queen Mero and her wings of awesomeness. Yeah.
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Her wings ached.

She rubbed them absently, massaging the cold white feathers and the slender bones that rested underneath a thin layer of skin. The air around her swirled and lapped, like it had been liquefied and she simply couldn't see it--only feel it soaking into her clothes, dampening her hair and moistening her lips. She gave a small shudder as the temperature dropped a few more degrees and her breath suddenly became a very real thing, floating out and vanishing into the surrounding whiteness that cloaked the city like a blanket. All sound was muffled and even the echo of her buckled boots scraping across the pavement seemed very far away, as if she was being followed by someone while her own self was soundless. It was a frightening feeling and even more so now that the streets were empty but for her and the whiteness.

The Mist had come to Emain Macha.

It seeped through the cracks in the street and the holes in the wall. Sometimes it simply leaked from the great sparkling lake that surrounded them all, and others it came tumbling out of sky like a felled bird. It happened every year, around this time. It happened every year, and every year it happened with no one else to see. And every year, only she remained, waiting. Of course, she didn't know what she was waiting for, but it was the instinct that made her stay. The knowledge that there was something that would happen, the knowledge that it was something only she could understand. It was feelings like this which had led her to save the Goddess, to become the Knight of Light. At first she had been doubtful, but she knew better now.

After all, who could have better understanding than the Eternal One?

Sighing, she sat down when the effort of forcing her feet through the haze became too much. And she thought. She looked down at her gloved hands, at the intricate weaving of what looked like tattooed ivy, but she knew wasn't. How did she know? That, of course, was a simple question. They moved on her arms, her legs, her torso. Everywhere but her face was covered with the delicate lines. Her back and her hands also bore marks; a great, elegant black cross with two crescent moons peeking out from the top two corners and two outlines of black winged children supporting the bottom corners. In the middle of the cross was a star, the kind where the lines to make the symbol were still there and clear. And from them, the ivy emerged.

For many years, she had sat like this, wondering what these marks were.

No closer was she now than she had been twenty-two thousand years ago, when she had been reborn in the Feywood.

And how many things had her black eyes seen since then? She closed them.

Too many.

Agnes, Ailionoa, Duncan, Simon, Nora, Olsa, Aodhan, Price, Aeria... The familiar prickling started at her eyes and an intense force pulled at her lower and upper lips. How many friends had she seen die? How many people had she lost? How many hours had she cried, and how many times had she started over until she gave up and separated herself from the rest of the world? She had lost count. It was, once again, far too many.

Of course, Tarlach and Nao remained. And the others from the Soul Stream--Militens? Malesians? She shook her head. She never could remember what they were called, could only recall that they were like her in only one aspect; they never died. But they were happy, they were content, they were among their own kind. They were all touched by the Goddess and Nao, and were granted the purest form of rebirth. While she... she...

"...I can't see the stars anymore. Not living like this, not living here."

No sooner had she spoken than the painful contractions began in her abdomen, signaling the start of change once again. Her body screamed, and blood leaked out from under her fingernails, her eyes, her heart. But she didn't make a sound to accompany the plipplop of blood on rock. Just... curled up quietly, shaking. And waited. And waited.

The excess blood became to glow, softly at first--turning a calm gold, then blazing white, erasing the Mist, as it had always done. Then, a great wind picked up, and she could feel herself shrinking, becoming more compact. Younger. A child again. The leather long bow, arrows, and twin cutlass all clattered to the ground as she knelt on all fours, watching the long slim fingers becoming gentle and petite again; feeling the slender legs withdraw, becoming thin sticks that still held some curve to them. Her chest flattened, but only slightly, but it made her stomach flatter. The long black hair fell to the ground and vanished in a cloud of silver sparks. The new locks framed her now violet eyes.

The whirlwind calmed, and she remained there for a moment in clothes three sizes too big, making sure that it was truly done with, that it was safe to move. Slowly, she stood, holding the black and gold China dress tightly until the clothes adjusted to suit her new body's needs. The sun shone brightly off the reflection of her swords, and as she bent to pick them up, a reflection clear as day stared back at her. The hair was still black, but now was short and a little ragged, making for a slightly tomboyish appearance. It would pass. Her wings were small again, she noticed with chagrin and a large amount of the silver glitter behind her showed where the magnificent appendages had once been. But they would grow as she did, and perhaps this time they would finally be large enough. Large enough to take her away.

She mused on the idea for a moment while shoving the deadly blades back in the hilt. Then turned, feeling... something behind her. A women appeared suddenly, her face outraged, her eyes insane, hands clawed and outstretched toward her, wrapping the strong fingers around her now little throat. Air stopped, trapped in her throat and outside but not making it through the passageway. Her little hands beat against the large, burly woman angrily. Then, just like that, she was gone. She stood there for a moment, gasping for breath.

"Amerona!" her voice cracked on the last letter, but the white fox appeared all the same, a red potion in her mouth. She snatched the glass container and yanked out the cork, drinking hastily at first, then slower as the warmth began to spread through her body. When the drink was gone, she again turned to the animal, who was now holding a Starlight Robe in her mouth. She fastened it at her neck, leaving the front open and smiled.

Then, she fell.

Lying on her back, she stared up. The hours flew by, the sky grew darker, quieter. The streetlights turned on and Nele was next to her, strumming his music to her and the little white fox. She smiled lazily at the bard.

"Hello Nele,"

"Hello Merokin, still around I see."

"Still enjoying Aer's gift?" from beneath the mob of brown hair and the hat, he smiled back.

"Of course. Besides, someone has to keep you company in eternity, don't they?" she heaved a great, content sky.

"The night world is so calm. The stars... They keep me from feeling lonely."

"You could always go back to them, Merokin. Dunbarton is only a few minutes away by horse."

"Perhaps tomorrow." he sat next to her then, reclining against a tree and strumming his lute softly.

"All you ever see here is the walls and the stars. It would do you good to see the rest of them again." He said quietly, unobtrusively. But the concern was there.

"I see you, I see Aer, I see Ame." He chuckled.

"Your list is frightfully small, dear child."

"I'm older than you'll ever be, Nele." He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead--like a father, or a brother.

"Not today, Miss Mero."

She didn't respond, just gazed at the stars. The ones that glimmered brightly, the spirits of the dead who remained up there. Watching, and guiding the foolish mistakes of the living, eternally watched over by Nao and Morrighan in their peaceful river of souls. They looked so beautiful, diamonds against the black velvet. So peaceful. The prickling began again, but this time she didn't bother to think herself out of it, letting the purple tears fall freely, darkening the blackness of her robe's hood. Silently, cautiously, Nele reached over and stroked her hair.

"I saw someone else today," she said quietly, her voice not choked with tears, but rather sounding clearer. Like a crystal bell. "I saw my mother. The way I remember her, when she..." Merokin grimaced, unconsciously reaching for her throat.

"Why aren't you happy the Fey saved you?" he looked down at her from his seat, and she saw a glimmer of soft green eyes. "You'd be dead, Mero. Your mother killed you, and the Fey gave you life."

"I'm not sure, Nele. I'm just... I'm not sure." Sleep was pulling at her eyelids slowly, luring them closed. She could feel her new, smaller body growing weary with the strain of changing, as it always did. She curled on her side, clutching her pet to her chest. "I think I might see them tomorrow, Nele... Just to see if they can remember me. Maybe... Maybe..."

She thought back to them briefly--the blessed she called them. She remembered them, their smiles, their greetings. Their happiness to see her, to go on one more adventure, to go on another trip to Emain, to eat at Loch Lios and go for rides in the Feywood. To see the flowers. To laugh and joke and sing and play songs and to just... Be happy. To be in love, like a normal hume. She thought of all of this before the black gloved hands of sleep tugged her down into the abyss and and all these thoughts were no longer there to think of. She thought of all of them and those days and she smiled.

Perhaps.