31 - Iona #2
“Yes, of course, but you know as well as I, the staff is not the pendant. It can only protect those in the Crone’s path, but has not the potency to defeat her,” Xiomara says.
“My mother prevailed against darkness in part due to the pendant, but most importantly due to her many years of diligent study. I have no doubt, none at all, that you shall reach, and perhaps even surpass that distinction someday but-”
“You needn’t comfort me in my disgrace,” Iona says numbly.
“No, it is not disgraceful,” Xiomara insists. “Please do not despair. It seems Morgan wished for you to use her magic in other pursuits. You should continue your work with Marcel and his comrades. That is your true calling.”
“I suppose,” Iona says, entirely unsure of her purpose anymore.
“With that settled, I’m afraid I must be going,” Aunt Xiomara says as she stands. “The covens are gathered for the solstice ritual, and I’ve agreed to preside over it in your stead. You should rest and regain your strength. You are welcome to stay as long as you need.”
A bundle of flowers with the smallest of purple blossoms, tied together with a red ribbon, sits on the bedside table.
“Heliotropes,” Xiomara says with fondness. “Such a lovely token.”
Iona recalls the meaning from her studies, that of devotion and eternal love. Her heart swells as she takes the arrangement of blossoms and brings them to her nose, breathing in their sweet fragrance.
“Ariadne has a resilient heart,” Xiomara says.
“Go to her, tell her of what I’ve told you, and know that the Zerynthos Coven shall continue our work until our last breath.
Whatever you choose to do instead, I’m sure, shall be a credit to you and Morgan, and in time, we will see fate’s design and know it was all meant to be. ”
Before Iona can say another word, Xiomara steps out of the room, leaving her painfully alone with her roiling thoughts and conflicting loyalties, unable to reconcile them.
She finds herself unable to deny what she’s feared to be true all along.
Morgan was wrong. She was so terribly, completely wrong.
If a Goddess of such power and insight as Hecate can make this determination, then perhaps Iona should finally accept the harsh reality of her flaws, for the greater good.
She reaches behind her neck to unclasp the pendant’s chain, cupping the opal in her palm for the briefest moment, before setting it on the bedside table beside the heliotropes.
She senses the loss of power and feels somehow bolstered by it, and by the knowledge that Arachne allowed her to take it off.
“Aster.” Iona beckons him over, then points at a spot in front of the bedside table. “Sit. Stay.”
Aster obeys, and though Iona knows the pendant cannot be moved by anyone else, she is comforted by the thought of it being guarded.
Then she runs from the room, across the hall, down the stairs, trailed by Wisp. She flings open the front door and is about to call for Ariadne through the bond.
“Iona?” Ariadne asks.
“Oh!” Iona jumps, not having seen her standing a little way away between two barren cypress trees. “There you are.”
Her red eyes appraise Iona’s elation, no doubt sensing it, too. “You are well again.”
“Yes,” Iona says, wringing her hands, “Hecate healed me.”
A flurry of snowflakes silently falls between them and get trapped within Ariadne’s mass of dark curls, the candlelight in a nearby window dimly illuminating the darkness.
“I’ve decided something,” Iona says. “Or rather, Hecate did.”
“Oh…” Ariadne says. “And what would that be?”
“I’ve been such a fool,” Iona sighs, stepping closer to her, and hushing Wisp when she barks.
Ariadne’s brow furrows. “What are you-”
“Please, let me speak,” Iona implores.
Ariadne studies her, then nods her ascent.
“Your family is right,” Iona says. “You should have claimed the pendant.”
“What?” Ariadne recoils, unable to believe her words.
Iona finds herself out of breath, putting a hand over her rapidly beating heart.
“Even Morgan could not ignore your obvious claim to it. She was well meaning, but I think she was wrong to let you give it away, so long as this darkness exists and the pendant is all that may vanquish it.” Iona says.
“You must take it back, for I don’t believe it was ever truly mine.
You were the one who claimed it first, and only gave it away to protect me, but we must protect others now.
They should not suffer on my account. You are so convinced that power in your hands would be a mistake, but it is not so.
Very few could have endured all you have and survived with their capacity for empathy still intact.
You’ve never been weak. Quite the opposite. ”
Iona takes another step closer, but hesitates, cognizant of the enduring wariness in Ariadne’s countenance.
“You’ve studied for years on end until you were nearly sick of something so wondrous as magic.
I could never measure up to that. It was foolish of me to think it possible, even with Hecate’s encouragement.
It was always you she wanted, and I understand why.
I am not bitter. I swear to you, I’m not.
I am so in awe of you, your strength, your wisdom, your courage.
I always have been, though you never let me say it enough, but you’d best get used to it. ”
Iona can barely articulate past her gasping breaths, and rushes through her words before she loses the ability to speak.
“You can no longer claim I haven’t seen the darkest parts of you, that I know not who I love, that I would run or abandon you if I did.
No longer can you say it of me, and I am glad for it,” Iona says.
“I’ve seen it all and still, I love you.
I will always love you. That will never change.
We could argue whether it be fate’s intervention that makes it so, but I find that pointless now when my heart beats for you all the same.
You who have risked everything, sacrificed everything for me, and yet are still somehow convinced you could never deserve me.
I am telling you now, once and for all, that you do, Ariadne.
I will remind you every day if I must, if that is what will give you peace.
I won’t let you leave or push me away because you’re frightened.
You need not be afraid. Don’t you know, my love, that I would fight for you, too? ”
Hot tears stream down Iona’s cheeks, but she smiles through them.
“I would, to my last breath,” Iona vows.
“You don’t need a blood bond to keep me at your side, and in fact, I insist we break it, for we do not need such compulsory truth to preserve our love.
I do not need to read your thoughts to know you live for me as I do for you, that you would never betray me, or forsake me.
I trust you with everything, with my life, with my heart, all that I am.
You must accept that my love is not fickle or thoughtless or conditional.
No other woman could satisfy me, understand me as you do.
You must know, forevermore, that I am yours and you are mine, and it shall always be so. .. if you’ll still have me.”
Iona’s sobs overtake her then, and she wipes away her tears with frustration.
“I was not slipping away…” she gasps, “I was frightened… confused… but I could never slip away from you. I am yours.”
She’s run out of words to say without speaking in circles and making a bigger fool of herself than she already feels she is.
Ariadne stares deeply into her very soul, then glances down the road for only a moment.
Iona nearly looks, too, until Ariadne’s eyes return to hers, burning with startling determination.
When Ariadne closes the distance between them, cupping her face, and kissing her with urgency, Iona weeps.
She sinks into the kiss, placing her hand over Ariadne’s, and lets out a sigh of happiness, until she overhears Wisp’s menacing growl, and she’s overcome with the creeping sense of something… wrong.