[MAY 3] [The Last Unicorn] Only One
Title: Only One
Day/Theme: 3. He thought of cathedrals, how the old ones were motionless and mute, like the inside of a sarcophagus, and how the new ones vaulted and soared to the skies, scraping sunlight and stardust.
Series: The Last Unicorn
Character/Pairing: Lir
Rating: G
He had become his father. He caught himself staring out of windows, at the moon or the sea. He had been found in the middle of a hunt transfixed by the faint gleam of starlight along the edge of the leaves. The sheen of frost along the winter-bare branches kept him still and staring long after his cheeks were red and his nose ran in the cold.
There was something in the whiteness, the pale shining, the aloof coolness that plucked at him. He remembered her, her stillness, her silence, the cold distant wisdom that kept her so far from his reach. He had always wondered about his father’s fixation with the sea. Their kingdom could crumble around them, but the old king would spend his days watching the ocean with a smile of satisfaction. It had seemed as if the water was the true kingdom, while the only child was the drifting shadow far below.
He still had nightmares about the bull, the size and the power of it. He had never dreamed about it bringing her back to him. He avoided that thought like a splinter under a fingernail. It couldn’t be touched. The pain was too deep and sudden and horrible. He told himself he was as afraid of the bull as she was. They had both only faced it to save each other. He was glad it was gone, driven away. Even if it was the only way he knew to bring her back.
He couldn’t do that to her though, and that was the difference between him and his father. His father had longed and lusted after all the unicorns in the world. Lir only longed for the one.
Day/Theme: 3. He thought of cathedrals, how the old ones were motionless and mute, like the inside of a sarcophagus, and how the new ones vaulted and soared to the skies, scraping sunlight and stardust.
Series: The Last Unicorn
Character/Pairing: Lir
Rating: G
He had become his father. He caught himself staring out of windows, at the moon or the sea. He had been found in the middle of a hunt transfixed by the faint gleam of starlight along the edge of the leaves. The sheen of frost along the winter-bare branches kept him still and staring long after his cheeks were red and his nose ran in the cold.
There was something in the whiteness, the pale shining, the aloof coolness that plucked at him. He remembered her, her stillness, her silence, the cold distant wisdom that kept her so far from his reach. He had always wondered about his father’s fixation with the sea. Their kingdom could crumble around them, but the old king would spend his days watching the ocean with a smile of satisfaction. It had seemed as if the water was the true kingdom, while the only child was the drifting shadow far below.
He still had nightmares about the bull, the size and the power of it. He had never dreamed about it bringing her back to him. He avoided that thought like a splinter under a fingernail. It couldn’t be touched. The pain was too deep and sudden and horrible. He told himself he was as afraid of the bull as she was. They had both only faced it to save each other. He was glad it was gone, driven away. Even if it was the only way he knew to bring her back.
He couldn’t do that to her though, and that was the difference between him and his father. His father had longed and lusted after all the unicorns in the world. Lir only longed for the one.