FIC: Travail of the Prophetic Trance
Title: Travail of the Prophetic Trance
Authoress: alyxbradford
Characters: Rowena and Salazar, Helga and Godric mentioned
Word Count: 1467
Rating: PG
Notes: A story of young Salazar and Rowena, still under the tutelage of another Master. Salazar takes advantage of one of Rowena's unusual gifts.
For better than three hours, there had been no sounds in the small study than the pops and cracks from the fire, the occasional scratchings of quills, the soft rustles of vellum and priceless parchment. Finally, long after midnight, Godric sat back in his chair, giving vent to a long, agonised groan that caught the attention of the other three.
"We're supposed to be students, not slaves," he muttered, jamming the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What are we learning from doing Lord Aster's research for him?"
"Better penmanship?" Salazar offered, a wry smile playing at his lips. Godric snorted appreciatively.
Rowena blinked up at Helga, who was falling asleep in her chair. "Helga, darling, go to bed."
Helga startled. "No... no, Rowena, if we don't get this finished by the time Lord Aster is back, he'll be terribly upset."
"I can manage," Rowena said, reaching for her goblet of wine. "You three go to bed."
"Are you sure, Ro?" Godric asked, standing and rubbing his forehead.
Rowena smirked. "You're no good to me half-asleep here. Might as well be fully asleep in your beds."
Helga nodded sleepily and leaned over to kiss Rowena's cheek. "We'll all give it a look over in the morning," she said. "Goodnight, Ro."
"Thank you, Rowena," Salazar said.
Helga, Godric, and Salazar filed out of the room, and Rowena stayed behind. Eventually she left the table and made herself more comfortable on the floor in front of the fire. While poring over the manuscripts, she pulled her hair out of its dark plait, and when she grew warm, took off her gunna and tossed it over the back of a chair, leaving her clad in kirtle alone.
'It haed bin saed that in the sumer of that yere, Morgan haed emprisond the Merline en a tree of auk. Should this tree ere be faund, a graet an terrible powere wuld be containd in the harte of the auk.'
Rowena rubbed at her forehead. 'None of this is getting me anywhere... I know the wood is powerful... That's why Lord Aster wants us to find it...'
Suddenly, sage words spoken several years earlier flitted unbidden into her mind, Lady Moira's voice cautioning: 'Be careful of him, my dear...' Rowena frowned at her own though, and resumed reading.
Two Celtic manuscripts, one Danish text, and three parchments full of notes later, Rowena had fallen asleep in front of the fire. Not long after, Salazar reentered the room, and took a long moment to admire her sleeping form, the raven curls lit by the dimming firelight, the face in gentle repose, lithe curves beneath the soft dove-grey fabric of her kirtle.
Then he reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a handful of sage. Kneeling next to Rowena, being careful to keep as silent as possible, he tossed the herbs into the fire, muttering something in Greek as he did so. Rowena stirred but did not wake, and as she rolled onto her back, Salazar slipped a pillow under her head. "Alright, my dear..." he whispered over her. "Tell me what you see..."
After a moment, the air was filled with the slight odor of the burning leaves. Salazar reached for Rowena's forgotten goblet of wine, took a pinch of something from another pouch, and mixed it in the drink. Sipping it, he was able to keep his own head clear, while the sleeping Rowena fell deeply into the power of the herbs. She twitched in her sleep, jerking slightly, and Salazar devoted his attention to making sure she did not injure herself in any way, hands hovering over her, read to grab in case she flailed too near the fire.
"Come on, Rowena, love..." he muttered. "I know you're in there... what can you see...?"
"Two lords... two banners..." she murmured through her sleep, in the thrall of the prophetic power of the sage. "It ought be white and black, but nothing so simple... wolves at the door... and rats in the cradle..."
"Good, Rowena, good..." Salazar said, his dark voice melodiously soothing. "What else?"
"Betrayal," she said breathily, arching her back off the floor a bit. "Betrayal of the highest order... a fight for power... like dogs for scraps, the scraps of order... no winner, no champion, no victor... disorder will reign... the kingdom fragmented... to each his own lord, his own law..." Her head fell to the side and she whimpered, and Salazar stroked her cheek gently.
"Easy, Rowena..." he whispered, "Easy, my girl... what else?" Salazar had a suspicion he should not push her any further, but the fragments of the future she was providing were too tantalising, too valuable for him to stop now.
"Descent of those who were once greatest... ascent of rising stars... their achievements greater than those they follow, their downfall destined to be more crushing... the highest and lowest of all..." Rowena's voice had gone high-pitched and strained, and she was breaking out in a sweat. "No nearer now to their goals, slipping away from the star they chase… cleaved to and cleaved from, a child sacrificed, murdered, both, and the death marks the birth of the shift…" Now Rowena sounded positively hysterical, and tears were beginning to leak out of her closed eyes. "A snake! A snake in the garden! An elder fall repeated, paradise shattered, all for the sake of blood! A snake!"
Afraid she would wake Godric or Helga, Salazar quickly threw a handful of a different herb into the fire, to dispel the power of the sage, then shook Rowena awake. "Rowena, Rowena!" he exclaimed. "You were screaming! What's wrong?"
"Oh!" Rowena woke with a start, wide-eyed and confused at first. She raised a hand to her tear-stained cheeks. "Oh, Salazar! I... I must have fallen asleep while I was working... oh, I was having the most terrible dream..."
"What about?" Salazar asked, brow furrowed in concern as he lay a hand to her cheek.
"I... I don't know..." Rowena said. "I know that sounds ridiculous, but... but it's the truth... I don't remember a thing..."
"You looked in pain," Salazar said, helping her to sit up. "Here, drink some wine." He brought the goblet to her lips. She drank, and after a moment the herbs sprinkled in it affected her, and her head cleared.
"Oh, thank you, Salazar… I don't know what came over me…"
"It's alright, Rowena," he said, standing and extending a hand to her. She took it and let him bring her to her feet. "These things happen, and particularly to you, it seems."
Rowena nodded wearily. "It has been a long while since I had a good night's sleep."
Salazar smiled. "That, lady, is because you often choose not to." He looked pointedly at the stack of manuscripts and parchments on the floor.
Rowena laughed lightly. "Yes, yes… I don't get much sleep, but I don't seem to need much, either…" She sighed, sitting down on the padded bench nearest the fire, and Salazar sat next to her. "I'm afraid, though, that I am no nearer an answer than I was this morning." She looked distinctly disappointed in herself. For Rowena, who firmly believed in the power of the written word, any time that the texts did not hold up to her scrutiny, she was disheartened. "I'm afraid Godric may be right. The only way now to find the Oak of Merlin may be to travel to Glastonbury and try to find it by looking."
"But Lord Aster does not wish us to go," Salazar said. His voice was flat, not judging or warning, but simply stating a fact.
"I know… I know, but…" She looked into the fire, which was dying to embers. "But research has failed us." She sounded pained to admit it. "Exploration may well now be the key." Her pale eyes went to Salazar's face, searching it for a clue to his inner thoughts. "What is your opinion, Salazar?"
Salazar leaned on the armrest, looking thoughtful. "I think we should forget the whole thing."
"Forget it?"
"I do not know for what reason Lord Aster seeks the Oak of Merlin, but I fear that no good can come of us finding it for him."
Rowena wore a startled expression. "Salazar, you can't mean-"
His black eyes were serious. "Do you trust him, Rowena? He is a fine teacher, and we have learned much from him, but that does not oblige us to trust him."
Her first instinct was to protest that of course she trusted him as her Lord and teacher, but the words caught in her throat. Lady Moira's warning echoed again in her head, and she pursed her lips.
"We are greater than him, Rowena," Salazar whispered.
"No..." Rowena argued. "Not yet... not yet."
Authoress: alyxbradford
Characters: Rowena and Salazar, Helga and Godric mentioned
Word Count: 1467
Rating: PG
Notes: A story of young Salazar and Rowena, still under the tutelage of another Master. Salazar takes advantage of one of Rowena's unusual gifts.
For better than three hours, there had been no sounds in the small study than the pops and cracks from the fire, the occasional scratchings of quills, the soft rustles of vellum and priceless parchment. Finally, long after midnight, Godric sat back in his chair, giving vent to a long, agonised groan that caught the attention of the other three.
"We're supposed to be students, not slaves," he muttered, jamming the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What are we learning from doing Lord Aster's research for him?"
"Better penmanship?" Salazar offered, a wry smile playing at his lips. Godric snorted appreciatively.
Rowena blinked up at Helga, who was falling asleep in her chair. "Helga, darling, go to bed."
Helga startled. "No... no, Rowena, if we don't get this finished by the time Lord Aster is back, he'll be terribly upset."
"I can manage," Rowena said, reaching for her goblet of wine. "You three go to bed."
"Are you sure, Ro?" Godric asked, standing and rubbing his forehead.
Rowena smirked. "You're no good to me half-asleep here. Might as well be fully asleep in your beds."
Helga nodded sleepily and leaned over to kiss Rowena's cheek. "We'll all give it a look over in the morning," she said. "Goodnight, Ro."
"Thank you, Rowena," Salazar said.
Helga, Godric, and Salazar filed out of the room, and Rowena stayed behind. Eventually she left the table and made herself more comfortable on the floor in front of the fire. While poring over the manuscripts, she pulled her hair out of its dark plait, and when she grew warm, took off her gunna and tossed it over the back of a chair, leaving her clad in kirtle alone.
'It haed bin saed that in the sumer of that yere, Morgan haed emprisond the Merline en a tree of auk. Should this tree ere be faund, a graet an terrible powere wuld be containd in the harte of the auk.'
Rowena rubbed at her forehead. 'None of this is getting me anywhere... I know the wood is powerful... That's why Lord Aster wants us to find it...'
Suddenly, sage words spoken several years earlier flitted unbidden into her mind, Lady Moira's voice cautioning: 'Be careful of him, my dear...' Rowena frowned at her own though, and resumed reading.
Two Celtic manuscripts, one Danish text, and three parchments full of notes later, Rowena had fallen asleep in front of the fire. Not long after, Salazar reentered the room, and took a long moment to admire her sleeping form, the raven curls lit by the dimming firelight, the face in gentle repose, lithe curves beneath the soft dove-grey fabric of her kirtle.
Then he reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a handful of sage. Kneeling next to Rowena, being careful to keep as silent as possible, he tossed the herbs into the fire, muttering something in Greek as he did so. Rowena stirred but did not wake, and as she rolled onto her back, Salazar slipped a pillow under her head. "Alright, my dear..." he whispered over her. "Tell me what you see..."
After a moment, the air was filled with the slight odor of the burning leaves. Salazar reached for Rowena's forgotten goblet of wine, took a pinch of something from another pouch, and mixed it in the drink. Sipping it, he was able to keep his own head clear, while the sleeping Rowena fell deeply into the power of the herbs. She twitched in her sleep, jerking slightly, and Salazar devoted his attention to making sure she did not injure herself in any way, hands hovering over her, read to grab in case she flailed too near the fire.
"Come on, Rowena, love..." he muttered. "I know you're in there... what can you see...?"
"Two lords... two banners..." she murmured through her sleep, in the thrall of the prophetic power of the sage. "It ought be white and black, but nothing so simple... wolves at the door... and rats in the cradle..."
"Good, Rowena, good..." Salazar said, his dark voice melodiously soothing. "What else?"
"Betrayal," she said breathily, arching her back off the floor a bit. "Betrayal of the highest order... a fight for power... like dogs for scraps, the scraps of order... no winner, no champion, no victor... disorder will reign... the kingdom fragmented... to each his own lord, his own law..." Her head fell to the side and she whimpered, and Salazar stroked her cheek gently.
"Easy, Rowena..." he whispered, "Easy, my girl... what else?" Salazar had a suspicion he should not push her any further, but the fragments of the future she was providing were too tantalising, too valuable for him to stop now.
"Descent of those who were once greatest... ascent of rising stars... their achievements greater than those they follow, their downfall destined to be more crushing... the highest and lowest of all..." Rowena's voice had gone high-pitched and strained, and she was breaking out in a sweat. "No nearer now to their goals, slipping away from the star they chase… cleaved to and cleaved from, a child sacrificed, murdered, both, and the death marks the birth of the shift…" Now Rowena sounded positively hysterical, and tears were beginning to leak out of her closed eyes. "A snake! A snake in the garden! An elder fall repeated, paradise shattered, all for the sake of blood! A snake!"
Afraid she would wake Godric or Helga, Salazar quickly threw a handful of a different herb into the fire, to dispel the power of the sage, then shook Rowena awake. "Rowena, Rowena!" he exclaimed. "You were screaming! What's wrong?"
"Oh!" Rowena woke with a start, wide-eyed and confused at first. She raised a hand to her tear-stained cheeks. "Oh, Salazar! I... I must have fallen asleep while I was working... oh, I was having the most terrible dream..."
"What about?" Salazar asked, brow furrowed in concern as he lay a hand to her cheek.
"I... I don't know..." Rowena said. "I know that sounds ridiculous, but... but it's the truth... I don't remember a thing..."
"You looked in pain," Salazar said, helping her to sit up. "Here, drink some wine." He brought the goblet to her lips. She drank, and after a moment the herbs sprinkled in it affected her, and her head cleared.
"Oh, thank you, Salazar… I don't know what came over me…"
"It's alright, Rowena," he said, standing and extending a hand to her. She took it and let him bring her to her feet. "These things happen, and particularly to you, it seems."
Rowena nodded wearily. "It has been a long while since I had a good night's sleep."
Salazar smiled. "That, lady, is because you often choose not to." He looked pointedly at the stack of manuscripts and parchments on the floor.
Rowena laughed lightly. "Yes, yes… I don't get much sleep, but I don't seem to need much, either…" She sighed, sitting down on the padded bench nearest the fire, and Salazar sat next to her. "I'm afraid, though, that I am no nearer an answer than I was this morning." She looked distinctly disappointed in herself. For Rowena, who firmly believed in the power of the written word, any time that the texts did not hold up to her scrutiny, she was disheartened. "I'm afraid Godric may be right. The only way now to find the Oak of Merlin may be to travel to Glastonbury and try to find it by looking."
"But Lord Aster does not wish us to go," Salazar said. His voice was flat, not judging or warning, but simply stating a fact.
"I know… I know, but…" She looked into the fire, which was dying to embers. "But research has failed us." She sounded pained to admit it. "Exploration may well now be the key." Her pale eyes went to Salazar's face, searching it for a clue to his inner thoughts. "What is your opinion, Salazar?"
Salazar leaned on the armrest, looking thoughtful. "I think we should forget the whole thing."
"Forget it?"
"I do not know for what reason Lord Aster seeks the Oak of Merlin, but I fear that no good can come of us finding it for him."
Rowena wore a startled expression. "Salazar, you can't mean-"
His black eyes were serious. "Do you trust him, Rowena? He is a fine teacher, and we have learned much from him, but that does not oblige us to trust him."
Her first instinct was to protest that of course she trusted him as her Lord and teacher, but the words caught in her throat. Lady Moira's warning echoed again in her head, and she pursed her lips.
"We are greater than him, Rowena," Salazar whispered.
"No..." Rowena argued. "Not yet... not yet."