In My Heart
In My Heart
By
Lady MoonHawke
“You’ll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You’ll be here
in my heart, always.
Always.”
You’ll Be In My Heart -- Phil Collins
Adrian started at the knock on the door. She’d been dreading it all morning, knowing it would come, and praying that it wouldn’t.
The knock sounded again, and reluctantly she pulled her hands from the bread dough she’d been kneading, and wiped them on a cloth. Peering out the small barred window set in the door, she assessed the visitor. Pale skin crowned with paler hair, and bright blue eyes regarded her with barely-concealed boredom.
“You are Mistress Adrian?” he asked with disinterest. She nodded, afraid to speak, and quavered as his lips tightened.
“Very well,” he continued. “You understand why I have come?”
She nodded again, trying in vain to still her trembling lips.
“Where is the boy now?” he asked.
Her reply was so soft he almost missed it. “Down the hill. At the tutor’s house.”
“You had him educated? Excellent. My father will be pleased to know you were so diligent in your responsibilities. It will make the boy’s future that much easier.”
Tears started to prick Adrian’s eyes. “Please, My Lord, can’t he stay with me? He’s my son!”
“Mistress Adrian, you cannot continue to raise the boy. My father gave you these years to accept the inevitable. Your son will eventually display abilities he cannot control without training, and you cannot give him that training, He needs to come with me.”
Slowly, Adrian opened the door to admit him. “I know,” she said sadly as he entered. “I just hoped for a few more years.”
“In a few years he will be a man, and go out on his own, were he a normal child. Either way, he would no longer be the boy you know.” The look he gave her was penetrating. “No, Mistress Adrian. It is time and past time for the boy to go.”
They both heard the running footsteps coming up the street.
“Please,” Adrian begged. “Please let him stay. Tell his father you couldn’t find us. I’ll do anything. I’ll take him and leave. I’ll go as far as I can, please.”
The man shook his head. “No. It’s impossible. Collect his things if you wish, but he is leaving with me.”
The door latch rattled, and Adrian wrung her hands frantically. “Let me tell, him, then. Let me be the one to break it to him.
He regarded her coldly for an endless moment. “Very well,” he said at last. “You may tell him he is to come with me. Be glad, Mistress Adrian. Not many mortals wring concessions from Oberon.” He shimmered a moment, then was gone.
Adrian dashed the tears from her eyes quickly and struggled to put on a happy face to greet her son for the last time.
The small blond boy fidgeted slightly in his best tunic, tugging at the collar. “Why do I have to dress up, Mama?” he asked for the umpteenth time.
Adrian finished combing his hair. “You remember I told you your father is a very busy man?” When he nodded, she continued. “Well, he’d like to see you. So your older brother is coming to get you, and take you to your father.”
“Are you coming too, Mama? Are we going to be a family?”
Adrian tried to hold back her tears. “No, honey. I’m staying here.”
His face fell. “I don’t want to go without you, Mama.”
“I know, baby. But your father really wants to see you. He’s going to be so proud of you. And there are lots of other children for you to play with.” Her voice was brittle.
“Why don’t you come too, Mama?”
Adrian sighed. “Your father is a really important person, sweetie. And he already has a wife living with him. She wouldn’t want me to be there.”
“I don't like her,” her son declared.
Adrian had to smile in spite of herself. Her darling boy was loyal to a fault. “It’s not her fault, darling. I’m the intruder. And my place is here. But promise me you’ll remember me.”
He threw his little arms as far around her as they could go. “I’ll always remember you, Mama.”
A cold chuckle drew them apart. “I see you’ve told him, then,” Oberon observed.
Adrian lifted her son in her arms. He was heavy, but it was likely to be her last chance. “My Lord Oberon, this is my son, Stefan.”
Oberon studied the child with a clinical dispassion. “I see my father in him,” he finally said. “Are you ready to hand him over?”
“Just a moment more, My Lord. Surely that’s not too much to ask measured against the rest of his life.”
“You are persuasive, Mistress Adrian. You may have a few moments, but no more.”
She bowed her head. “Thank you, My Lord.” She waited until he had stepped outside. “Remember me, my love. Keep me close in your heart, and you will be kept close in mine. And never forget that I love you. I will love you always.”
His little arms wrapped around her neck, squeezing with all the strength his little body could muster. “I love you too, Mama.”
Adrian set him down, fighting tears. “Go with your brother now, Stefan. It’s time.” She looked coldly at Oberon. “Give your father a message for me, if you would. Tell him I hope never to see his face again as long as I live.”
Oberon collected the small hand Stefan reluctantly offered. “I will deliver your message to him. But, Mistress Adrian, you may never know if you see his face or not. Think on it.” He turned and left, taking Stefan with him.
The boy stumbled along, trying to watch his mother as he was pulled along. “Love you, Mama. Always love you,’ he shouted.
Adrian managed to shut the door before her son could see her tears fall.
Stefan looked up occasionally at the tall man Mamma had called his brother. He had pale skin like Stefan, as well as light hair and blue eyes, and held Stefan’s hand in a firm grip.
As they passed through the city gates into the countryside, Stefan finally worked up the courage to ask the man a question. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to meet your father,” he replied. “I thought your mother explained this already.”
“She told me that part. But where is he?”
“He is in his own land child. Your father - OUR father is an important man, a ruler of mighty beings. You must remember this. Whatever your mother was, your father rules the gods, and you are his son.” He looked down at the small child. “Well, one of them, anyway. And you are being greatly honored by being brought to him. Many of his sons are left with their mortal mothers to live and die mortal lives. You are fortunate to be spared that fate, so remember to be grateful.”
“Mama called you Oberon, and said you were my brother. But I don’t remember you, and I think I would have,” Stefan commented.
“You and I share a father only, Stefan. My mother is a member of what we call the Third Race, and it is in our kingdom that you will most probably live,” Oberon explained.
“Is that where our father lives?”
“No. He lives somewhere else, a place that has many names, depending on whom you ask. But your other brothers live in Avalon with me, and I am their guardian while our father is otherwise occupied.”
“I thought I was going to live with my father!” Stefan protested.
Oberon laughed. “Father greatly enjoys having children. It is the raising of children to which he objects. Don’t fret, small one. You will meet your esteemed father, though you may find the experience a disappointment.” They stopped at the top of a high hill.
Stefan looked around, and saw that while the land they had just passed by was covered with high grass waving golden under the sun, the land ahead was covered with clipped green grass; a green so vibrant it almost hurt his eyes, Far behind him lay the city, an impossible distance away. “Have we come that far so quickly?” he asked in amazement.
“Many strange things will become possible for you, young Stefan. Things so strange to make this seem ordinary. But now, welcome to Avalon.”
Stefan gazed in wonder at the building Oberon had brought him, to, marveling at the soaring columns holding up blocks of solid marble. He walked hesitantly up two steps, then looked back at Oberon.
“Go on, boy, You must. I shall wait here for you.”
With a start, Stefan realized that Oberon had changed. Now, his skin was pale blue, and his hair stark white. His clothing too was different, with wide shoulders and a flaring cape behind him. “Go on,” Oberon repeated.
Slowly, Stefan mounted the remaining steps and hesitantly made his way inside. Looking around, he realized that the building reminded him of nothing so much as a temple.
“That it is, my boy. That it is.”
The voice came from somewhere in front of him, near the source of a light so bright it dazzled his eyes.
“Sorry about that,” the voice said, and the light dimmed enough that he could see clearly. At the far end of the temple was a raised dais, and on that, a throne, simple in construction, but fabricated from more marble. Seated on the throne was a man, hair and beard golden, with Stefan’s same striking blue eyes. Stefan stopped in front of the dais.
“H-h-hello, Sir,” he stammered.
The seemingly ageless man smiled. “So, you’re Adrian’s boy. You’re certainly handsome enough to be my son.”
“That’s what Mama told me, Sir,” Stefan said, his voice growing stronger. “That I’m your son, that is.”
“Well, of course you are,” his father agreed. “Why don’t you come on up here? Bit awkward, talking to you all the way down there.” Stefan mounted the dais slowly. “So, any questions for the old man?”
“Who... who are you?” he asked hesitantly.
“Does a name matter? I am called Odin by some, Jupiter, by others, and Zeus by more still. Does it change who I am? Not really.”
“But what should I call you?”
“Father, if you would like. Or you can pick one of the others. Whatever you wish, really. It’s up to you.” Seeing the boy’s hesitation, he considered. “See here. What is my name among your mother’s people? I’m sure by now you know who I am claiming to be.”
“My mother always spoke of Zeus as the Ruler of the gods. But she didn’t tell me he was my father,” Stefan protested.
Zeus sighed. “I know. Your mother knows what I am, but I didn’t tell her WHO I am. I thought perhaps it would be easier that way. It’s no easy thing to be the mother of a immortal’s child, my son. Even less so when I am involved.”
“Why can’t my mother come here?” Stefan demanded. “She won’t get in anyone’s way!”
“Stefan, child, your mother is mortal. She cannot live out her days here. Her place is on the mortal plane,” Zeus explained gently.
“Then why isn’t my place with her? I want to be with my mother!”
“Child, I have many children born of mortal mothers, most of them sons. Only a few ever display any abilities outside the mortal norms. Only a very few of those sons are brought here to be trained; those in whom my blood is the strongest. You are one of those sons, and you belong here with us.” He took Stefan gently by the shoulder. “I know it’s not what you want, but it best for all of us. Now go with Oberon. He will care for you at his castle.”
“So now I’m not even going to stay with you? You’re just forcing me off on some stranger? Why did you even have him bring me here?”
Zeus stood, letting the full effect of his form overwhelm Stefan. “I am patient child, up to a point. Do not make the mistake of pushing me. You will go and live with Oberon, as I have decreed.” In a flash, Stefan found himself back outside the temple.
“I take it I was correct?” Oberon asked.
“He says I have to live with you.” Stefan sighed, trying to force back the tears pricking at his eyes. “I’m sorry to be such a problem.”
“You create no problems, Little Brother. There are five more boys I am fostering, and I believe, in time, you will fit in well.”
They walked no more than a few steps, or so it seemed to Stefan, before they came to a huge stone structure Stefan knew could only be a castle.
“Wow!” he breathed, forgetting his sadness for a moment. “You live here?”
“I do. And this shall be your home as well, whenever you are in Avalon.”
“What’s Avalon?” Stefan asked, still marveling at the huge building.
“There are many parts to this magical kingdom of your ancestry, with many names. Avalon is a part of that kingdom where I rule,” Oberon explained.
“Do you, My Lord?” a feminine voice asked.
“Ah,” Oberon sighed. “The Lady Titania, Hereditary Queen of the Third Race. I have the great fortune of being her betrothed. Allow me to present to you my youngest brother, Stefan, lately come from the realm of the mortals. Stefan, this is the Lady Titania.”
Stefan bowed, stiffly but with good intention, and Titania inclined her head. “I am pleased to welcome another to our realm, and hope you will be happy here,” she said, her voice smooth and beautiful.
Stefan tried not to gape at her mint skin and rose-colored hair. “Thank you, Lady,” he managed to get out.
Oberon stepped smoothly into the lull. “If I may be permitted to wait upon you later, My Lady. I must now show young Stefan to his quarters and see that he is comfortable.”
Titania nodded gracefully. “Of course, My Lord. I will await you in the Hall.” With that, she moved off. Stefan’s eyes followed her without hesitation.
“She’s beautiful,” he breathed at last.
“And headstrong,” Oberon related. “Many things that are beautiful are also strong-willed, my brother. It is a combination to keep one on one’s toes, to say the least.” He took Stefan into the castle and up a tower. “This tower is where the other boys live. You shall have your own quarters for sleeping, and there is a common room for studying and such. I believe you will find it comfortable.” He opened a door to show Stefan his room, a bed and clothing chest already in place. “Other items can be added as you need them, of course. I must attend to other matters now. If the others are here, they are in that room.” He took him over to another door and opened it. Inside, shelves lined the walls, holding more books than Stefan had ever seen, as well as scrolls stacked in neat piles. Two young men were hunched over a parchment, studying it and muttering. Oberon took him over to them.
“Jareth, Lyscius, this is Stefan, our newest brother. See that he feels welcome.” With that, Oberon left the room, and Stefan felt more alone than he had when he left his mother’s house. Had it really been that same day?
“So,” one of the boys said. He was whippet thin, with the same pale hair and blue eyes that seemed to run in the family. “You’re the new boy. What can you do?”
“N-n-nothing,” he stammered. “What do you mean, what can I do?”
The thin one elbowed the other. “Hear that, Lys? He can’t do anything. Should we teach him?”
Lyscius smiled, an ugly smile. “Yeah. How should we start, Jare?”
Jareth narrowed his eyes. “I think the birds and the bees should suffice.”
Before he knew it, Stefan was seized and carried to the window, then found himself dangling by his ankles from Lyscius’ grip.
Jareth was whispering near his ear. “Time to fly, little brother, if you’ve got it in you. Of, course, if you don’t, well, that will be too bad, won’t it?” Then Lyscius let go, and he was falling, Falling past stone and windows, the courtyard coming up quickly. His hands reached out, and he turned his head away.
“NOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!” he shouted, then stopped abruptly. He cracked his eyes open, and realized that he was not lying fractured on the pavement. He was hovering some five inches above it, bobbing gently up and down. Slowly, he reached his hand out the short distance and felt the solid ground underneath him. Then, with a small jar, he was laying on the cobblestones. Carefully, he picked himself up and went into the Great Hall.
Oberon spotted him at once. “Stefan? How did you get outside?”
“I was helped by Jareth and Lyscius,” he answered.
Oberon nodded. “I worried they might try something like that, but I did not realize they would start so soon. What did you learn?”
“That I wish I were at home with my mother,” he stated flatly.
“Probably true, though not what I was looking for,” Oberon granted. “Come sit with me.”
Once settled near a fire that seemed to have no fuel, he continued. “I take it they tossed you out a window?” Stefan nodded miserably. “And yet you survived. What does that tell you?”
“I’m lucky?” Stefan offered.
“You are. You are also capable of things mortals cannot do. You are young yet for these abilities to manifest, but a life threatening situation can bring them out. So now what will you do?”
“Stay away from Jareth and Lyscius,” Stefan declared.
“A possibility, certainly, though it would mean being trapped in your room. Can you think of anything else?”
Stefan considered. “Can I fight them?”
Oberon allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up. “I do not know. Can you?”
Stefan’s face brightened. “I can learn to,” he declared.
“That you can, little brother. That you can.”
A flash of inspiration crossed Stefan’s face. “Can I have some parchment and a quill?” he asked.
“Anything you need for writing can be found in the library,” Oberon informed him. “But this time, stay away from the window.”
Stefan made his way to the library near his room and peeked in the door. It seemed empty; no sign of Jareth or Lyscius, so he slipped inside and found what he needed. Gathering several sheets of parchment, quills and an inkhorn, he scurried back to his room.
Once there, he spread a piece of the parchment on the top of his clothing chest. It wasn’t perfect, but for now it would do. He chewed his lip a moment, then began to write.
‘Dear Mama,
I know you will probably never see this, but I wanted to write it anyway. I am safe (relatively) and have met my father. I wish there was some way you could have told me about him, but I think I understand why you didn’t.
I don’t know if I like it here. Some of the people here are very nice, like my brother Oberon and Titania, but others are mean. I’m going to try to learn a lot and get strong so they can’t hurt me. Then, maybe when I’m grown up, I can come home.
I love you, Mamma, and I’ll keep you in my heart.
Stefan.’
Stefan slipped the parchment into his chest and crawled into bed. Within minutes, he was asleep.
*The End*
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