Mintiper's Song

[Rae Moonsilver]

In preface it must be said that she should have died long ago. Mind singing with the adrenaline of the fight with Kerrinne she left the field of battle before getting her wounds tended properly to. In fact had her warhorse not had the sense he had in taking her out of the mountains and towards ShadowSpire Keep with speed she most likely would have bled out before she was found. She simply did not feel the wound until she was riding across the flat plain of high grass dotted with crimson poppies that would lead her to the Keep that her twin called home. Like many of the keeps built in this land it had been built atop ruins left behind by the Paragons that had once called this land their home and perhaps only Zayre truly knew what secrets lay locked beneath it waiting and biding their time until it was for them to be discovered.



So whether it was fate or provenance she had been spotted and stopped nearly home as the hot blood washed out of her and she realized that perhaps she was in more trouble than she had at first thought. The one who stopped her was handsome and concerned, the son of one of the great names of Rhydin who had professed on more than one occasion his admiration for her beauty. He was a Sidhe it was said and she was not immune to his charms though she did not think her heart could ever be his because of her dark secret. There was only one that she could truly love with abandon and that was her husband Mintiper Moonsilver who had left her after the birth of their son Donovan whilst she carried their daughter Collette, the second daughter and the third child for the pair. Her dark secret of course being that not only had she been bitten by Mintiper but that she let him do so of her own free will, and some said that act had tainted her and made her into something other than what she was.



Mintiper of course was known to be a monster, a creature of the shadows and a wanderer of the outer darkness. He was known widely throughout the realms for the deeds that bloodied his hands, known for what he had become, a vampire. Most, even those that had known him beforehand, forgot that beneath the reality of the blood drinker there was the remainder of what he had been, a half-elf poet with the soul of a Bladesinger. She however, never forgot. She never forgot his kindness to her, his smiles when she had come to visit Kanali and found Mintiper with him at the table. She had been so new then, freshly returned to Rhydin after her long absence when her Lord Dorian Sinda had died, and had virtually no friends and certainly none from her past had come forward to embrace her once more. So despite the crimson that coated his deft hands, the lifeblood of others spilt to keep his marble skin from going utterly white as snow, she saw beyond the name of monster and reached with her hands and heart for the spark of goodness that might remain in his breast.



For in her arms due to the nature of a boon from Yrtalien he was warm and alive, and thus able to conceive with her their children. Perhaps in those moments as well he was free from the burden of sin or found some ease of his heart for there were many such moments and she freely gave of all she was to him, heart, soul, body, blood. All were his in a way that none other had had them and to her that was precisely how it should have been between them. She had made a decision as well, that when their children had grown and did no longer need her to nurture and care for them, that she would take another leap of faith if he wished it and she would join with him forever not only in marriage but in the Night and Darkness just as he was. Yet things had happened which separated husband and wife, caused by the plots of Dolcenaya and Kairan to steal Donovan to make of him a pawn for their wicked grab for power. Mintiper had in the course of this slain her father Kairan and while he knew she held him blameless others did not and he chose to leave her rather than further color her with his taint.



She understood but missed him sorely, his rare visits to her in the depths of the night precious to her as breath itself. When he came to her she forgot all else and in those days his ring never left her hand, the black diamond winking there like a promise. Yet others did desire her despite her devotions but is that not the way of the world? And thus it was that when he found her there in that field and she passed out from lack of blood that Shalanthasa chose to save her … for himself. He worked with great passion and magic to heal her body and make her perfect, to make her Sidhe like himself. Yet in his workings there came a twist, hubris come to punishment as it oft times did. What woke in the Dream Realm was a pure form, a pure and beautiful Sidhe body given the face and demeanor of the Ithil’Quessir that had been brought there so sorely wounded. Yet she woke confused and afraid, not knowing herself for long days. All the things that had marked her had gone save for those that the Sidhe felt she wanted. So her tattoos remained and her scars were erased and eventually she came back into the true waking world surer of herself, memories returned.



Yet was it not true that there remained a strange distance in her to her old friends, her blood family? Emotions that had been so strong were now vague, and memories that had been crystal clear were gazed at as if through gauze. Her children with Mintiper were the first to feel the sting of the changes though they would not be the last, not by far. The Sidhe parted ways with Shalanthasa because while he had made her for himself, she was a Queene and beyond him, a different type of Sidhe altogether due to the power of the Lords of Air and Dark who had not liked one of their handmaidens tampered with so. Yrtalien was the Lord of Dark Romance after all, and he had approved of her choice of mate in Mintiper with the fashion he granted her boon. So why would it be surprising that he did what he did? Of course it was not, though none knew it for many long years. In the waking mortal plane the Sidhe grew sure of herself and her powers at long last and gathered together her Court, the Court of Blood and Thorns. She bonded completely with the twin sister in ways that perhaps the Ithil’Quessir never could have, and the land under her prospered as she gave it to the Eldest son to be crowned High King. There were other children, and a bright love that led her perhaps from the path she could have chosen with a Sidhe Prince at her side, yet the Sidhe did indeed choose it.



All the while, she slept. She slept and dreamed undisturbed for the most part in a secret place in the Dream Realm. It was a place that had been made years ago by her own dreams, a cemetery that she had come to sing in, to sing to Mintiper and show him their daughter Ysabeau safe from those that wanted to harm them all. For in dreams they had often met back then, all due to the blessings of Yrtalien. So in the place hidden yet known she slept, waiting for the day she would wake in his arms once more while the Sidhe continued life with her face and part of her name, a sliver of soul connecting them. That sliver had allowed the Sidhe to draw upon the precognitive powers she possessed, though there had been a grim price for it, the scars which were duplicated upon that scarless form and the memories of how each had come to be. That was the price, and it was wise perhaps that the Sidhe had been forbidden to use that power for who knew if it would kill her, or take back that bit of soul? Her Sidhe soul had grown of course and the loss of that bit might not harm her, but it was that bit that let her believe she was the person they all thought she was.



In Dreaming Jausserande Moonsilver, the wife of the vampire Mintiper Moonsilver slept.

[Collette Zayelle]

They of course knew that no one would believe them. After all, despite all the evidence that Ysabeau had given them of the intangible truth, it was a lot to ask for them to take on simple faith in her word. Not that their elder sister was prone to lying despite her ability to keep secrets close to her chest that might do well to be brought to the light of day so to speak. It was just that the story was so incredible that it scarce would be noteworthy if it came from anyone but Ysabeau. Of the two siblings Collette was the first to come to the realization that their sister was correct, her own instincts fueled that along with the knowledge that here was the explanation at long last as to why a mother so loving and fiercely protective of her babes had suddenly grown cold and distant, even dare she think it almost guilty in her treatment of her elder children. For Collette was no longer that disenfranchised child thrust into the arms of one nanny after another until Dove had been there to give her the affection that she needed from a female source, Collette was a Princess full grown into her sense of self due muchly in part to the love and support from her mate Istovar Rhenvana, a Warlord Prince of the neighboring Territory of Sogno Grigio. The things which had made little sense in her life now came crystal clear to her and for the first time a tiny spark of hope began to kindle in the dhampir woman’s chest.



It could be that she would have her Mother back after all. Perhaps it was true as Ysabeau supposed, that only Mintiper Moonsilver could waken the sleeping Rae Moonsilver. She felt this were true because of where she had found the sleeping form of the Ithil’Quessir, unchanged from that day she had been placed in healing sleep, resting there in the Dream Realm as if she simply awaited the proper time to rise. The Lords of Air and Dark knew that Ysabeau had tried to stir her Momma to no avail but the time spent let her remember that she had done more than play among the manicured lawns and so white marble tombstones and mausoleums as a child. She had upon more than one occasion sat at the feet of a certain statue there to listen as the subject of that perfectly carved likeness leaned upon its base to tell his child a story of what he had been doing, that this cemetery had been a sanctuary of sorts for not only herself but her parents as well. Here they had been free to love without the censure of those that would have torn them apart and murdered him in front of his wife and child. Here they had been free from those that had wanted to murder her in her crib before she had a chance to grow to adulthood.



Ysabeau could scarce credit that now, that there had once been threats against her very existence when she had been but a babe, but it was as true as the darkness that had spawned such evil. She was glad though that such violence had never entered her life, that the people that had wanted her dead had found joy enough in their own lives to never cross paths into her own. She credited much of that to her Aunt Amica, her namesake aunt that the Sidhe Rae never spoke of. She also credited much of her peace to finally knowing her elder half Brother D’mitri. He was a fine knight and a good hearted person, and that goodness had to have come from somewhere. And was not goodness to be found in the places one least expected it? Had she not herself married the eldest son of her mother’s at one time mortal enemy Kerrinne? In the love of Kyle Kl’ramordan she had found her own happiness and sense of purpose much as Collette had with Istovar. Their two children Kassandra Elspeth and Kheven Jacob were the pride and joy of not only their families but the people of the Kingdom of Ivory as well.



Yet despite her attempts, her impassioned pleas to the still form of her mother, Rae did not rise. Ysabeau then directed her attempts to the Dark Man, her childhood name for her Lord of Air and Dark, Yrtalien. He had not been forthcoming at first though it was true that he denied Ysabeau nothing for she was more than special to him as the child of his chief handmaiden and priestess, she was his link to the Mortal Realms and his power had increased vastly due to her very existence. But he was after all the Lord of Dark Romance and it had been his hand that had allowed Rae and Mintiper to have children in the first place, so while his final answer was a bit cryptic it held all the clues that she needed to figure out what was necessary to break the spell.



“Look you well, dearest one, to the past. Look to the time of your birth and what was needed that came to pass. Only that same touch will wake the Priestess Who Sleeps.”



Things had been so different then, but really deep in her heart she knew it was not the place her mother had held as a member of the Shadow Guardians of Rhydin when she was born that he meant. Not the rank or station, not the place of sanctuary that Ysabeau had first seen the light of day in, not the midwife that had been her own Aunt Zayre. It was none of those things, it was the Dream instead. Rae had once told her daughter that while under the duress of childbirth that she had sensed the presence of her beloved Mintiper, though it had to have been some sort of astral travel as he was at the time doing his own wandering in Dream. It was the only answer that made sense, and even Donovan who doubted the most could feel the ring of truth in Ysabeau’s words when she told them that it was Mintiper who could break the spell that kept her in stasis.



The only question now of course was how to find him. He had perfected the art of being elusive over the years, coming into the Kingdom of Oreithildarin seemingly on whims and leaving death in his wake upon not finding whatever it was that he sought whilst he was there. There were places he was known to haunt, a certain ruin upon the beach line down the coast for example, yet all that Ysabeau could do is leave her father letters at those places ensorcelled to allow only him to read them and hope that he could find his way to one of them. The others had less abilities in this regard but Ysabeau did not begrudge them that she had to do the bulk of the searching. So if hopes and wishes were enough since it was truly all Ysabeau had, perhaps soon Mintiper would find one of those letters from the daughter that still loved her Poppa with all her heart and he would know why it was that Rae had not come to him over the years. How could she go to her love when she slept, waiting for him to awaken her?



Ysabeau and the others did not know what would happen if their father was able to wake their mother. But hope made them want to find out. The Sidhe Rae was a good enough person, she deserved her life as she had made it. But even so those children of before wanted what had been taken from them so long ago, and they would do what it took if it were in their power to do it to see the mystery revealed and the sleeper woken.

[Rae Moonsilver]

In Dreaming Jausserande Moonsilver, the wife of the vampire Mintiper Moonsilver slept.



Where better one might ask, to dream if not in the Realm where such are created, where such are the currency of the kingdom? Reality was what the strongest minds could imagine, and the marks of those exceptional souls littered the landscape that otherwise was ever changing. There were a few things however that as always were unchanging, landmarks to guide those that came to seek their boons, to beg to enter the service of the Lords of Air and Dark. Most were no longer aware that many of those unchanging landmarks were at one time the whims of a tall young man of an elder race that no longer walked the mortal planes. Most no longer even knew that this young man had ever had another name than Yrtalien, that he had ever been less than the god he was.



There were the Paths that would lead one through the caressing Mists, the nature of the Paths changing to suit the mind of the Dreamer, and no matter where one wandered in the Dream Realm the Paths would eventually take one to another landmark, the Citadel of the Lords of Air and Dark. That place was hard to miss as well, with its huge elegant stairs and the floating topiary gardens supported by clouds that surrounded it, the music of flutes filling the air with sweet lullabies and gentle rills of pure noted joy. Then there was the Enchanted Forest where dwelt the Lord of Beasts and her husband the Lord of Nightmares, though D’Kaine’s own twisted many turreted castle still stood at the absolute north of the Dream Realm he was rarely far from his wife Storm’s side. There was a natural amphitheater to the west in a glade of tall mallorn style trees that was the province of Khendsar, Lord of Music, where would gather the best bards whilst they slept and music would pour out into the stillness of the rest of the Realm from there on the best of those nights. Then was the desert city where dwelt Chelandre, Lord of Lust with his artificers who built monuments to his glory, and whose streets were always filled with the most comely of youth both male and female.



Of course one could not forget the Tower of Sorcery where Zhraith made his home and where Storm had been raised for the most part, daughter to Zhraith and Zayre N’Alsia. It stood close on by the Citadel that was both gathering place for the Realm and Yrtalien’s home, except of course when it did not. The Tower seemed to be built of night sky frosted with stars and limned in silver light; that did not change no matter where its roots were upon an evening. To the West was a Seelie Court of Sidhe and Fae, to the East was an Unseelie Court of the same, from which two places were drawn those that served Jausserande Bonatti’s Court of Blood and Thorns. There was the wrought iron fenced and gated Cemetery where slept Jausserande Moonsilver in the place she once came to sing and show off her Ysabeau to Mintiper, and that was the finality of all that remained fixed in the Dream Realm.



She dreamed of her rings. The black diamond and platinum ring that she wore when Mintiper wed her, that she wore on a silken cord around her neck after he left; and the MacMillan ring that Blackfalcon Michaelmas MacMillan had gifted her with that she had worn on her right hand always, that had been the ring of his sister Miria. As she dreamed her rose lips parted and a whisper of sound went forth.



“Give them back, they are nay thine.”



In the waking world a hissed curse was suddenly heard as Rae’s hand was filled with cast iron hair pins, each topped with a blown glass red heart, the iron burning her skin as she threw them from her. As they scattered to the floor the signet ring on that hand slipped from the third finger where it had rested for years to land with a dull thud on the carpet at her feet. She would have to dig into her healer’s kit for a salve for the burns as her Hand of Healing could not do enough to soothe them as they were dealt by cold iron. It was a Fae power and as such weak against wounds such as those, and she cursed softly under her breath as she applied the herbal salve. The smell of the clean herbs and unguent loosened that knot of panic that the surprise of the burns had caused, and now after she wrapped her hand she went seeking out the cause. Of the slew of pins that had filled her hand there was now but one, the blown glass heart vivid red against the soft blue of the carpet which covered the hardwood floor.



Of the MacMillan ring there was no sign, though she looked under all of the furniture of the room and even out into the hall. A dull haze of anger clouded her senses a moment, the temper she seldom displayed to the outside world except in times of war making her bare her sharp Sidhe teeth. While her intellect might adore the idea of a mystery when it happened to another, she herself was not so fond to be the focus of one. Tamping down her rage she went about the hallways of the Briar Rose Inn and she questioned the maids that worked there … have you seen a ring, she would say, a ring with a crest and a blue stone set in it? Yet none she spoke with had seen such and only one could remember ever seeing it and that was the head maid Aliciania who had seen it upon Rae’s hand many a time. Were it not for the pin which now lay on the table in her dressing room picked up carefully in a cloth she would have had no proof as to what had happened to her that morning.



Something was niggling in her memory about that hairpin, but as many memories from the time which she had come to possess that ring, it refused to come clear to her as it should. Long had she wanted to ask a Sidhe this question and yet she had always hesitated, fearful of the answer she would receive. She knew that elves had reverie, the state like sleep in which they would rest and renew themselves, thinking over memories of the near and the distant past to keep them fresh in their minds always. It was why the Elven blooded folk held grudges so dear, because time did not diminish the intensity of the emotions for an Elf, despite how many non-Elven thought of them as often times aloof or uncaring. What Rae wanted to know was if natural born Sidhe also had reverie to renew their memories, and if so why she did not have more clarity in her own memories.



She had been an Ithil’Quessir, now she was not. She was Sidhe. Yet somehow in the transition between the two states she had lost something of herself, and the one person who might truly be able to give her answers she did not dare speak to. Only he was close to being what she was, and only close instead of surpassing because it was what he chose. Should he ever decide to be King instead of Prince … the thought did not bear looking upon, at least not yet. She hoped that perhaps he would have the patience to wait until Kailea Emerald was of age to woo, he would be a fine husband to the powerful Princess that she would become in a handful of years. Truth be told he would have been the ideal husband for Rae herself, a match to her power as a Sidhe as none of the others of her Court could ever hope to be. But Julian had the prior claim of husband to Rae and they had proven to be fertile, which made their marriage sacred to the Sidhe.



Thus it was that Prince Sularan held back his suit for Rae’s hand, because no Sidhe would dishonor a marriage that had produced children especially in the nobility. He was also of the few that were aware that Rae would never be able to have another child by Julian or any other man. She was still able to conceive, but to carry a child to full term would destroy her life. It was a hard lot to accept for someone of her race as Sidhe viewed children as even more precious than Elves did, but it was inescapable fact. It was not enough to make her lose her Court and condemn her folk to sterility as she was still capable of conception though some might argue it was a mere loophole; yet until her folk showed signs of ill effects she would remain the Queene. Rae’s finger poked the glass heart of the pin again and set aside thoughts of telling Sularan what had happened. He could not help her, with whatever this was.



She would speak of it with Julian and perhaps by then her ring would have turned up and maybe she would remember just what it was that the sight of this cast iron hair pin was trying to bring up in her mind. As it was, she barely remembered the man that had given her the ring in the first place, at least she barely remembered what he had been like alive. He had of course visited her once as a ghost in the garden at Starhost where the wheel of Julian’s ship Il Mio Gioello had been brought to live among thousands of the roses that Rae had once upon a time gifted him with one of. His visit had brought her great comfort in that time of mourning and she had known him upon sight then, limned in the blue light that bathed him. Yet she could barely picture what he had looked like with the tones of live flesh to his skin and he had to have been important, to have given her that ring and come to her in her hour of need.



She had many such dual memories, it dawned on her then. That sometimes when she looked upon someone she would see a ghost image of them in her mind of how they had been, yet it was as if she were looking at a book of someone else’s memories, someone else’s mind. That book would provide her with names to go with faces, endearments that were given long ago and invariably despite the drastic changes to her they would welcome her into their arms and lives with glad cries of “Rae, Rae.” Yet the emotional investment that should come with that was ever lacking save with those that were of newer acquaintance with her. It was of course to her eternal shame that when she had heard the last of her comrades from the olden days had passed on to her reward that besides the vaguest hint of grief which she had tried to share with Julian upon Fahnuil’s death the greater emotion that she felt was relief.



Relief, that she no longer had to try so hard to keep the tapestry of the past from simply unraveling as it would, unchecked by memory or emotion, relief that she need no longer keep up with one more pretense. Yet there had been that spark in her that did grieve as it would, was there not? Things were simply as they were and the Sidhe saw no use in truly trying to untangle what had come before. After all, she did not live in the before she lived in the now and cared only for the now and those that lived in it with her. There had been more relief as the children grew up and came into their own. The Eldest was now King in the land of Oreitheldarin and he and his Queen Star were good for the land and it prospered. The Adopted none had seen for many a year regardless and The Moonsilvers were now grown. Ysabeau had married Kyle, the son of her old dear enemy Kerrinne in a bit of almost poetic justice. Donovan was Prince of RoseHaven and married as well to Dove. Each had children of their own, which of course Rae felt more of a connection to since they were of the now than she did to any of their parents. Collette was now off in a neighboring Kingdom and she had heard a rumor that connected her with one of its Princes … though Rae had not truly been listening when she was told of this. The Twins were of course in Arundell, the true Sidhe children adopted by Faylin Tal of that land and they prospered there which was all Rae could have wanted for Gloriel and Varellan.



Of all the children the only ones she truly cared about were Niki, Kailea, and Dario because they were of the now. She was vaguely aware that this was probably selfish of her, to not have tried harder to unlock the haze over her emotions. But she was so vividly connected with being alive that it was hard to want to re-experience the past and of course after all it was a bit late to try and fix things at this point. She had a life she liked, a husband and children she loved, so what if her past was vague and sometimes incomprehensible to her?



Perhaps she should have better remembered that bit of old advice given to her once upon a time by her mentor Azra Shadows in those oddly mixed metaphors that he so loved, that those who ignore the past are doomed to be haunted by it, but then that was told to her former self and not her present self at all.



The black diamond and platinum Moonsilver Wedding Band would not be so easily removed from where it was hidden. It had come into the possession of Torrin McGlynne during the first Gryphon Tournament as a part of the treasure hunt held, years ago. There were no special powers attached to the ring other than the power of memory, and since Torrin did not wear it he did not hear the whisper from Dream. Jausserande Moonsilver did not know that Jausserande Bonatti had given away her ring after all and it might take awhile for that ring to be found …