EVERY JOURNEY'S END
[An Epilogue]
...is just another journey's beginning.
It's barely daybreak when Kestrel's up on the deck of the Beautiful Dreamer. It was a beautiful day in late May, one of those days when the maiden of Spring was set to blossom into Summer, lovely as a rose - yet it was not a fishing day. It was a day for preparations. It was a good day to sail away.
His eyes are the faraway hue of sea-fog, gray and blue at once; they search the edge of the sky and come back empty. In his hand he holds a note that he won't let anyone see, but despite it his spirits are high.
So, Lynette d'Aquitaine thinks she can get rid of me that easily, does she?
By the time Mariposa comes on deck, the beams and masts are checked, the sails in working order. He takes the little Pooka's hand and they go ashore one more time, first to shop for fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, things that will be rare on a long sea journey. Then, to wander the streets of Charleston - the city of Kestrel, or rather, Kaile Hunter's birth - window-shopping along the Historical District's boutiques, getting ice cream at the Harbor, watching the seagulls fly over the gray Atlantic.
In the afternoon, they sail to the Isle to gather up flowers for Mariposa to eat, later, when the caterpillar-girl grew hungry. They spent a few hours frolicking in the meadows, and Kestrel taught Mariposa the fine art of making grass-flutes. It's a valuable skill, and who knows when they'll see grass again? The sea's a big, big place.
After, they go to say goodbye to one he just might call friend. Ieun ap Gwydion, noble knight of the Sidhe. Kestrel doubted they would meet again, but then again, Lynette doubted...
...best not to speak of that.
Whatever words they exchange are brief and sunny. Simple chatter over a glass of rum. The young Fiona says nothing of his travel plans; he did hate saying goodbye. Then, before he leaves, Kestrel passes Ieun an envelope, saying only that Sasha should receive it.
Sasha's the only one that will see the note inside, and only in the privacy of her own home where the Baroness will not be shamed. It's brief, simple, and honest:
I need to go away. Please don't ask me why. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you in person. You might not see me again, but I won't forget you. Doubt me, doubt my words, doubt who I am, even, but don't ever doubt my love for you. Such things even I cannot lie about.
Kestrel.
And, for a moment after he gives Ieun the note, he is sober, solemn: "Ieun, if...I wasn't here, you'd take care of her for me, wouldn't you?"
Of course he would. Ieun was a Knight. That's what Knights did...unlike pirates.
But such thoughts would only weigh him down, and so he pushes it from his mind, bids Ieun farewell, and boards the Dreamer. He waves from the stern, looses the sails to the winds, and Ieun just might notice that the Fiona sails east toward the open ocean, racing to catch the trade winds.
As the Dreamer stretches her legs on the high seas, the young pirate with Boreas the kestrel on his shoulder looks back at the city of Charleston fading into the evening dusk. By night they would have lost sight of it, and another chapter in Kestrel's life was over. Who knows how many more remained, and what end awaits him? Who knows if he will ever come back as he really is - Sidhe, pirate, fae, Fiona?
Boreas chitters and preens his beautiful feathers. Mariposa is playing tic-tac-toe with a seagull chimera, crosslegged on the gunwale. And Kestrel, manning the helm, wonders if he is doing the right thing.
Sailing without the faintest idea where he goes.
Leaving all he knows behind - for good.
Wandering the world, searching for a love he may never again find - but then again, he is optimistic. The sky is still blue. And the stars are beginning to twinkle. And he's young, and he's Fiona, and he knows no fear.
Someday. Somewhere. Somehow, he'll catch up to the blonde girl with the dumb little penknife she calls Greyswandir - and she'll be a woman by then, probablly, maybe even a real Lady - and he'll knock her silly for running off like this.
And when he's done knocking her silly - well. You know how fairy tales end, don't you?