Blodeuedd

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: D/Leon

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Matsuri Akino; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Summary: Sequel to "Spirits". D sells a pet to a lonely young man. The story is based on a Welsh legend from The Mabinogion.
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The door opened with a creak, and a man walked in. He was quite handsome, despite the bleak, empty look in his hazel eyes. His dark brown hair looked uncombed, and his jacket and shirt were wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them.

"Welcome, I am Count D," said the...person...who answered the door. He was slender and androgynously beautiful, with unnaturally pale skin--the phrase "white as snow" popped into the customer's mind. Wasn't that from the Snow White fairy tale? "White as snow, black as coal, red as blood..." The Count's chin-length hair was indeed black, but his lips were more of a dark purple than blood-red. But strangest of all were his eyes: one was purple, and the other was green...no, yellow. The dim light of the shop made it difficult to be certain. The Count wore a black robe trimmed with red at the collar, sleeves, and hem, with frog closures running down the front of the...whatever you called it. Simon would know the proper term, mused the man.

"People from all over the world come here in search of rare and exotic animals," continued the Count. "I am certain you shall find something here that you desire. How may we serve you?"

The man shrugged. "I'm a friend of Simon Holt. I've been feeling kind of down lately, and he suggested I get a pet. He recommended your store, but...I'm not sure if..." His voice trailed off.

The Count waited patiently for the man to gather his thoughts.

"Oh, sorry, I should introduce myself. I'm Kyle Hamilton. Look, I don't want to waste your time; I don't think--"

"Please, won't you sit and have some tea?"

Kyle let himself be seated on the couch, and let the strange Chinese man pour him some tea. He didn't really want a pet, but Simon had insisted... And now he couldn't seem to summon enough energy to object.

Count D placed a plate of almond cookies on the coffee table. "Please, help yourself," he said as he took a cookie himself and bit into it daintily.

Kyle noticed that the Count's long, perfectly manicured nails were the same shade of purple as his lips. A strange little bat-like creature fluttered down and landed on the Count's shoulder.

"Kyu!" the animal squeaked, and the Count fed it a piece of cookie. "You say Mr. Simon Holt referred you to this shop?" he asked.

"Yeah, he thought a pet might cheer me up. I guess you're a friend of Simon's, too?"

"I looked after his nephew when his mother died. I do not know Mr. Holt very well, but he seems to be a kind and compassionate man."

"Yeah, that's Simon, always trying to help people out." Kyle smiled wryly. "Even when they don't really want help."

"Oh?" was all the Count said, as he fed his pet another bite of cookie.

Kyle picked up his cup, twirling it around in his hands absent-mindedly. "I broke up with my girlfriend a couple of month ago, and...I guess I've been kind of depressed ever since. Simon is an old college buddy of mine..." He took a sip of tea, more for an excuse to stop talking than because he was thirsty. Why was he babbling about his personal life to a total stranger? Something about the Count's quiet, accepting presence seemed to pull the words out of him.

"Well, anyway, Simon's wife was here on business, so he stopped by to visit, and saw me moping around the house...really, he's making a big deal out of nothing..." Damn it, thought Kyle. I'm babbling again!

The Count sensed that it was indeed a "big deal." The young man was in great pain, but it would be impolite to tell him so, and in any case, he would only deny it. However, the proper pet might be able to help ease his pain...

"I think I have something that might interest you," said the Count.
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"This way, please." Kyle followed as Count D led him down a dark hallway.

Strange, shadowy shapes moved in cages that lined the walls. They squealed, chittered, growled, and screeched. He couldn't see them clearly, but they looked and sounded like no animal Kyle had ever seen before. But the spark of curiosity was buried under a wave of apathy almost as soon as it appeared. They came to a set of double doors carved in some Oriental design. The Count pushed open one door, and it gave way with a loud creak. D held the door open, and motioned for Kyle to step through.

He walked into the room. It smelled of incense, and little gray streamers of smoke floated up from a brazier set on a table near the door. In a chair at the far end of the room sat a woman... Kyle rubbed his eyes. No, it was a bird...an owl? No, a woman...

"What the hell is going on?" Kyle demanded of the Count, who had silently come up behind him.

"This is Blodeuedd," said Count D, an enigmatic smile playing around the corners of his plum-colored lips.

She was the most beautiful woman Kyle had ever seen. Waves of flaxen hair spilled down to her waist. She was clad in a light blue gown that matched her cornflower-colored eyes. Her skin was fair and smooth, with just a hint of rosy blush in her cheeks. She wore a wreath of flowers in her hair. Somehow the sweet floral scent cut through the incense. She smelled of springtime, and the heaviness in his heart lifted slightly.

"But what...how...this is a pet shop, not a...a..."

"She is a bird. An owl, tyto alba or barn owl, to be exact."

"But--"

"Look closely."

The smoke from the incense obscured the woman's form for a minute, and suddenly through the haze, he saw an owl! Not one of those great horned owls with the big ear tufts, but a small, slender bird with a round, earless head. Its feathers were light brown and grey on its back and wings, shading to white on its belly and face. Its heart-shaped face looked almost like a flower...

Then the smoke cleared, and the woman sat before him again.

"What the--?!"

"I told you we had many rare and exotic species here," said the Count with a sly smile. "However, if you are not interested in her--"

"No! I'm interested! But you can't just sell a woman as if she were an animal!"

"She is an owl...however, you are correct in that we do not force the pets to go with an owner against their will." He turned to Blodeuedd. "Well, my dear? Do you wish to go with this man?"

She shrugged. "It matters not," she said, in an accent Kyle couldn't place. But it gave a musical, lilting quality to her voice. "One man is the same as another." Her voice sounded as weary and indifferent as he felt. Looking closer, he saw that her lovely blue eyes were filled with incredible sadness.

"It matters a great deal," said the Count. "And not all men are alike."

"How can she be both a woman and a bird?" asked Kyle. He felt dizzy...was it the incense, or the surreal quality of this encounter?

"She is...under a spell, you might say. But it is not my story to tell. Do you wish to purchase her?"

It seemed obscene to suggest buying this woman as if she were a slave, yet...Kyle did not want to leave without her. "I...if she consents..."

"Blodeuedd? You must choose."

She laughed bitterly. "When have I ever had any choices?"

"You do now," said the Count gently.

"I won't take you against your will," declared Kyle, with more determination than he'd felt in weeks. "Is this man holding you prisoner here?"

Blodeuedd smiled sadly and shook her head. "No, the Count has been nothing but kind to me. He took me in when I had nowhere else to go."

"Well?" asked the Count.

"Very well," said Blodeuedd. "It would be good to go to the surface world once more, to feel fresh air and sunlight upon my face..."

"Mr. Hamilton? I have some papers for you to sign...please note that there are three conditions in the contract:

1) You must not show her to anyone.
2) You must provide her with flowers and sunlight during the day.
3) You must let her out to hunt at night."

"Hunt?"

"In her owl form, she must hunt for food every night."

Kyle opened his mouth to ask why she turned into an owl, and why he couldn't just buy her meat or even live mice if that's what she needed, but the sudden look of anguish and shame on Blodeuedd's face stopped him. "All right. I agree."

"If any of these terms are broken, this shop cannot be held responsible for the consequences. Sign here, please."

This is insane, thought Kyle. But he took the pen the Count offered him, and scrawled his name at the bottom of the contract.

"Thank you for your business. Please take good care of her, and may you experience good fortune and happiness far into the future."
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This is crazy, thought Kyle. I bought a woman who is really an owl...did the Count hypnotize me? Or was that incense some kind of hallucinogen? Did I really see her turn into an owl? And those conditions..."You must not show her to anyone"--OK, that one kind of made sense, since people would think he was either crazy or involved in white slavery! But it would be kind of difficult to keep her out of sight AND let her out in the sunlight. Fortunately, although he kept a small apartment near the University where he worked, he had the house his parents had left him. It was in a secluded location outside the city, with lots of tall trees and hedges, and no neighbors close by. That should be all right, as long as they were discreet. He decided not to think about the third condition of the contract for now.

They arrived at the house. He had a cleaning service that took care of the house periodically, but he had neglected the yard, which was overgrown. He'd have to call the landscaper--damn! He couldn't take the chance that anyone might see Blodeuedd. He'd probably have to cancel the cleaning service, too. Kyle sighed. Why hadn't Simon sent him to a normal pet shop? Why hadn't he just bought a puppy or a kitten?

Blodeuedd had not said a word during the drive to the house, but as Kyle helped her out of the car, she lifted her face up towards the sunlight and spread out her arms, as if she wanted to embrace it. She took a deep breath, then exhaled in a soft sigh. She looked, if not exactly happy, then at least less miserable than she had at the shop. As they walked to the door, she reached out with her hands to caress the knee-high blades of grass, the overhanging branch of a tree, and the fluffy head of a dandelion that was almost as tall as she was. Kyle hated yardwork, but the gentle smile on Blodeuedd's face made the task seem less onerous. Besides, she seemed to like it the way it was. He supposed he'd have to mow the lawn, but maybe he'd leave that dandelion...
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Blodeuedd seemed to withdraw back into herself when they entered the house. Kyle led her up the stairs, to a bedroom on the second floor. It was light and airy, with large windows, and a set of French doors opening onto a small balcony overlooking the back yard. Her face brightened a little when she saw the room.

"Do you like it?" asked Kyle.

Blodeuedd smiled shyly and nodded.

Kyle set down the small suitcase the Count had given him. He supposed it contained Blodeuedd's personal possessions. "Uh, let's see, there're clean sheets in the closet, the bathroom's over here...do you need anything else?" She shook her head. Kyle glanced at the suitcase dubiously. It looked too small to hold more than a few changes of clothing. "Are you sure? You don't need more clothes or anything like that?" She shook her head again. "Well, then, I'll leave you to get settled in..."
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Kyle didn't spend much time in the house; just the occasional weekend, and a few weeks during Christmas and summer breaks. The long commute to the University made it more convenient to keep an apartment in the city, and besides...the house contained memories he would rather not think about. His girlfriend Julia had been delighted that he had a "house in the country"--at least at first. But that was another memory he wanted to avoid.

Looking through the kitchen he saw there was not much but a few canned goods. He'd have to stock up on groceries, and bring over some things from his apartment. And flowers...Count D said Blodeuedd needed flowers.

Kyle washed some of the dusty dishes, fixed a meager dinner of canned soup, then went upstairs to check on Blodeuedd. "Excuse me? Blodeuedd? Would you like some dinner...?" He peered in the half-open door. The room was empty, and the French doors and the windows were open. A sudden gust of wind lifted something small and white from the floor and blew it towards Kyle. Without thinking, he reached out and caught it. Opening his hand, he saw a feather, and a chill ran down his spine. He had almost forgotten the third condition of the contract... Kyle quietly closed the bedroom door, then went back downstairs to eat dinner alone.
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Blodeuedd was lying asleep on the bed, still clad in her blue gown, when Kyle checked on her the next morning. He hesitated, then left a note for her, saying that he was going to work and would back later in the afternoon.

Kyle taught British Literature at the University. He drifted through his morning classes, lecturing by rote while his mind was on Blodeuedd. Her name sounded so familiar...he was sure he had come across it in his studies before, but he just couldn't place it. Fortunately, these particular classes were filled with bored freshman and sophomores trying to fill their English requirements, so most of them didn't notice his air of distraction. A few of his more talented students looked at him with curiosity or concern, but he ignored them.

As soon as his last class was over, he headed for the library. After researching the internet and several books on mythology, he finally found what he was looking for. It was a long and complicated story, part of the Welsh epic cycle The Mabinogion:

The powerful druid king of Gwynedd, Math ap Mathonwy, was under a geas that his feet must rest in the lap of a virgin, or he would "cease to exist"--except during times of war, conveniently enough. Math's nephew Gilfaethwy was infatuated with his uncle's latest "foot warmer," Goewin. Gilfaethwy's brother, Gwydion, who was a mage, came up with a scheme to lure Math away to battle so Gilfaethwy could rape Goewin while she was left unguarded. When the girl told Math what they had done, he married her and made her his queen, giving her control over his lands in compensation. Then he punished her attackers by turning them into animals--they spent one year as boars, the next as stags, and the third year as wolves. After that, Math apparently forgave them and welcomed them back into his household. He chose Gwydion's sister Arianrhod to be his next handmaiden, but the girl failed the test of virginity. She had a child out of wedlock, and wanted nothing to do with him because he reminded her of her disgrace. Gwydion raised the boy (some versions of the tale said he was the father), but Arianrhod laid a spell upon the child that he would never have a name unless she gave it to him. But Gwydion tricked his sister: he arranged for her to see her son in disguise strike down a wren with a needle, and she remarked on what a skillful hand the fair youth had. Thus his name became Llew Llaw Gyffes or "fair-skillful-hand". She then declared that Llew would have no weapons or armor unless she gave them to him; again Gwydion tricked her into giving them to him when he conjured up an illusion of an army attacking her castle. Arianrhod's final curse was that Llew would never have a wife "of any race that is now on earth." So Math and Gwydion magically created a woman made from flowers named...Blodeuedd.

"No way!" shouted Kyle. Several students nearby looked up in surprise, and the librarian on duty glared at him. When she recognized him as a professor--one who was usually quiet and courteous--she asked in a concerned tone, "Is something wrong, Professor Hamilton?"

"Uh, no, sorry," said Kyle sheepishly. The librarian gave him a puzzled look, then went back to her work, and Kyle returned to his book.

Blodeuedd was more beautiful than any human woman, but she was not faithful to Llew. She fell in love with Gronw Bebyr, and conspired with him to kill her husband. She tricked Llew into revealing the only way he could be killed: if he stood in a bathhouse on a riverbank with one foot on the back of a he-goat and one foot on the edge of the bath, he could be killed by a spear. She persuaded Llew to demonstrate the position for her. When he did, Gronw stabbed him with the spear. But instead of dying, he vanished in the form of an eagle. Gwydion tracked him down and restored him to human form, but it took a year to nurse him back to health. Gwydion turned Blodeuedd into an owl, a bird that "all other birds would shun" as punishment for the "shame" that she had done to Llew. Gronw's punishment was that Llew would throw a spear into his back, the same as he had done to Llew. Gronw begged Llew for mercy, saying he had been led astray by "woman's wiles." Llew agreed to let him place a stone on his back for protection, but he threw the spear with such force that it pierced the stone and killed Gronw anyway.

Kyle stared at the book. She couldn't possibly be THAT Blodeuedd...could she? For one thing, the story was only a myth. And even if it was true, it had happened hundreds of years ago! He rubbed his temples; his head was starting to hurt. The idea that she could be this mythical woman made of flowers was insane--but this whole thing was insane! He had bought a woman from a pet store--a woman who turned into an owl...just as the Blodeuedd in the story was turned into an owl... Was this some elaborate hoax that Count D and the woman had cooked up? But why would they want to trick him, and why would his friend Simon be involved in this? He slammed the book shut and stumbled out of the library in a daze.

His fears gradually dissolved as he left the building and walked across the campus. Outside, in the sunlight, with students chattering on cell phones, or sitting on the lawn, tapping on laptop computers, the idea of magicians and bespelled women seemed ridiculous. It's all those Arthurian legends we've been covering in class, thought Kyle. I've been reading too much about Merlin and sorcery and whatnot; I'm starting to imagine things. Maybe Blodeuedd was simply a disturbed woman who thought she was the flower-maiden in the story. And surely she hadn't really turned into an owl in the shop; it was just the smoke and incense, and the power of suggestion. As for last night...he hadn't actually SEEN her turn into an owl--perhaps she had just slipped out for a late-night walk. The feather could've been blown in by the wind from outside.

By the time he had left the campus, and gone shopping for groceries, Kyle had almost convinced himself that there was nothing to worry about. He didn't let himself think too much about why he had "bought" a woman and brought her home to live with him. Whenever that troubling little thought arose, he shoved it aside, banishing it to a distant corner in his mind. He whistled almost cheerfully as he pushed his cart down the aisle. He spotted potted plants and bouquets of fresh-cut flowers near the produce section, and remembered the second condition of the contract. He examined the flowers, wondering what to get; the Count had not specified what kind of flowers Blodeuedd needed. He finally decided on a bouquet of daisies and a potted violet.
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"Hello," called Kyle, "I'm home." He almost dropped the bags of groceries when he saw Blodeuedd descend down the staircase to greet him. She was dressed in another long, old-fashioned gown, this one pale green with flowering vines embroidered in gold thread along the hem, sleeves, and bodice. She dropped to the floor in graceful curtsy, her skirt spreading out in a pool of green around her, and said, "Welcome home, my lord," in that lovely, lilting accent, which Kyle now recognized as Welsh.

Kyle set down the bags and gently took her by the arm, saying, "Please don't kneel to me." Blodeuedd allowed him to pull her to her feet, but looked confused. "I am not your lord," said Kyle, "so please don't call me that. Just call me Kyle."

"But you are my lord," said Blodeuedd. "You purchased me from the Count--"

"No!" exclaimed Kyle, and Blodeuedd flinched. He continued, in a more gentle tone, "I did pay the Count and sign the contract, but I am not your master, and I won't hold you here against your will. You are free to leave at any time if you wish."

"I do not understand," said Blodeuedd. "I was created to serve men. Have I displeased you? Do you wish me to leave?"

"No! It's just that...I want you to understand that you're not a prisoner or a slave. You don't have to stay here if you don't want to."

"I have nowhere else to go except back to the shop," said Blodeuedd. "But if you wish me to leave, I will return to the Count."

Kyle sighed and gave up. "Then stay, as long as you like," he said. He reached into one of the bags and pulled out the bouquet of daisies. "These are for you; I hope you like them. I wasn't sure what kind of flowers I should get."

She took the flowers and stroked the petals. "They're lovely," she said, but her eyes were filled with sorrow.

"Is something wrong?" asked Kyle.

"These flowers are dying," she said softly. "Cut from their roots, they will wither and fade in a day or two." She looked at the cut stems as if they were amputated limbs, and Kyle suddenly felt like a monster.

"Uh, sorry," he mumbled. "Um, er, perhaps this is more to your liking?" He handed her the potted violet.

"Ah," she said with a smile. "It is thirsty and tired, but it will be good as new with a little sunlight and water." She fussed and cooed over the plant as if it were a baby.

"Note to self," muttered Kyle. "Only buy live flowers. You'd think the Count might have told me."

"It is the fate of most flowers to bloom but briefly," said Blodeuedd. "They die and are reborn the next spring." She sighed, and Kyle thought he heard her whisper, "If only I could die..."

"What?" asked Kyle, alarmed. Was she suicidal?

"Nothing," said Blodeuedd. "I'll put these in water, and we can enjoy their beauty for a few days; we shouldn't let them go to waste. And...thank you for the violet." She gave him a sweet, if slightly melancholy smile.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it." Kyle was still worried; what if she tried to hurt herself while he was away at work? If only he could think of something that would make her happy, or at least capture her interest. He suddenly realized that she reminded him of himself, drifting through life, burdened with despair that was slowly turning into indifference: doing normal everyday things like eating breakfast or going to work had become increasingly difficult, taking more and more of his energy. He had none left over for hobbies or socializing. His friends urged him to snap out of his funk and start dating again, but it didn't seem worth the effort. He wrapped himself in a blanket of numbness, keeping out both pleasure and pain. He knew what he was doing to himself, but he couldn't summon up enough energy to care about it. But somehow it bothered him to see that same numbness in Blodeuedd. Suddenly an idea occurred to him...

"Would you like to start a garden?" Kyle asked.

"A garden?" Blodeuedd's blue eyes lit up with a sudden hope. Then the hope dimmed, as if she were afraid of being disappointed. "Would you really allow that?" she asked warily.

"Sure, why not? The Count said other people can't see you, so I guess the front yard's off limits, but there's plenty of room in the back. Of course, we'll have to do a lot of digging and weeding to get the garden started, but--"

"Lle--I mean, my former husband said that it was not appropriate for a lady to dig in the dirt."

Kyle snorted. "Your former husband can go stuff it--ahem. I mean, he must have been a real chauvinist pig." Blodeuedd gave him a puzzled look. "I mean, he must have had rather antiquated notions of a woman's place in society--oh, never mind! Let's start a garden! I'll go buy seeds and gardening tools tomorrow!"

"Truly? You mean that?" asked Blodeuedd.

"Truly, I mean it. My word of honor."

"Oh, thank you, my lor--thank you, Kyle!" She smiled at him, a real smile this time, one that lit up the whole room with its radiance and took his breath away.

"No problem," said Kyle weakly.

She tended to her violet and helped him put away the groceries, singing a cheerful tune in an unfamiliar language--Welsh, he assumed--as she worked. Her voice was as lovely as her face. He fixed a simple meal for himself, and she sat with him as he ate, although she only sipped a glass of fruit juice and didn't touch any of the food. He explained what he did for a living, and she actually seemed interested in what he had to say.

"So you preserve the old tales, and teach them to your students?" Blodeuedd asked. "Like a bard handing down poetry and song to his apprentices?"

"Um...something like that. It's not so much just preserving them--after all we have books and computers now, unlike the old days when they were handed down orally. Anyone can go to the library and read a copy of Shakespeare's plays, or the tales of King Arthur." Or the Mabinogion, he thought, but he quickly stifled that thought and shoved it out of his mind. "What I do is help the students understand how these works reflect the time period they were written in--values change, and we often see the stories from a different perspective than the original writers and readers did. For example, today we might admire Kate in 'Taming of the Shrew' as a strong, independent woman, and are disturbed by the fact that she submits to her husband and becomes a proper wife at the end of the play. But in Shakespeare's time Kate would indeed have been considered a 'shrew,' and they believed a wife should be subservient to her husband rather than an equal partner." Kyle laughed self-consciously. "Sorry, didn't mean to go into lecture mode! Hazard of the profession, I guess."

"No," said Blodeuedd, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Please continue, I find it quite interesting."

"Shakespeare did create a great many clever and strong-willed female characters...I wonder if he secretly had an admiration for independent women--but that's just conjecture on my part."

"Do you have copies of his plays? Perhaps you would let me read them...?"

"Of course!" said Kyle. "No English professor's library is complete without Shakespeare! Help yourself to any of the books in my study."

"Thank you, Kyle."

Kyle grinned, feeling a surge of happiness that was out of proportion to the simple fact that Blodeuedd was finally talking to him, and calling him by his name. "Uh, well, we also look at the themes of the stories that transcend time: love, hate, fear...man vs. nature, man vs. science, man vs. himself...after all, no one would read these books if there wasn't something in them that touched a chord in a modern audience." They continued talking, or rather, mostly Kyle talked and Blodeuedd listened, until the sun went down and moonlight streamed in through the windows.

"I must retire for the night," Blodeuedd said quietly, rising from her chair. "I thank you for the flowers and the conversation, and bid you goodnight."

"Huh? Oh...goodnight," replied Kyle. After a moment, he followed her up the stairs. But he stopped outside her closed bedroom door, and didn't try to see if she really turned into an owl, although he thought he heard the flutter of wings--or perhaps it was just the wind.
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The next day, Kyle bought gardening tools and seeds. He wasn't sure what kind of flowers to get: roses were the obvious choice, but Kyle didn't particularly like them--especially since his breakup with Julia. Roses, he thought, were a metaphor for love: outwardly beautiful, but with hidden thorns that wounded the careless. Red roses, the symbol for romance, were the color of blood. Pansies and daisies were more cheerful, he decided, and also bought seeds for cornflowers, more commonly known as bachelor's buttons, because they reminded him of Blodeuedd's eyes. He also bought some jeans and casual shirts, guessing at her size. He wasn't sure if she'd want to wear them, but he didn't think her formal gowns were made for gardening.

Kyle needn't have worried: Blodeuedd gave the clothes a quizzical look, then declared them to be practical; perfect for gardening. Even in blue jeans and a light cotton shirt, and her hair tied back with a ribbon, she still had an ethereal, otherworldly beauty.

They spent most of the day clearing a patch of ground for the garden, and planting the seeds. Blodeuedd looked more beautiful than ever, her cheeks flushed with exertion and happiness, a small smudge of dirt on her nose making her seem even more appealing somehow. Kyle's back was sore from bending over, his hands blistered from digging, but he was happier than he'd been in years.
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The flowers seemed to grow at an unnaturally quick rate; little green shoots sprouted up the very next day. Kyle knew nothing about gardening, but surely that wasn't normal. Within a week, the garden was full of white daisies, purple pansies, and red, white, and blue cornflowers. Every day he and Blodeuedd worked on the garden together, sharing their delight in the colorful blossoms. She read the books in his study while he was at work, and they'd discuss them in the evening over dinner, although she rarely ate anything except for a little fruit or a light salad. And every night after dinner she would go to her room and close the door. Kyle was careful never to look behind the door or ask what she did at night.

He knew she believed she was the Blodeuedd of myth; once or twice she slipped and referred to her former husband as "Llew," particularly when she was surprised that Kyle would let her do unladylike things like pull weeds and wear trousers. She wore jeans for gardening, but still wore her gowns in the house, looking like a medieval princess. She claimed to have never read Shakespeare before, and when he logged onto the computer to look up gardening information on the internet, she said, "What a clever device." Still, he had convinced himself she was merely a woman who had gotten too caught up in the romance of the past; he had friends who took part in renaissance fairs or belonged to the Society for Creative Anachronism, who enjoyed dressing up in gowns or armor, acting the part of noble lords and ladies, or knights who fought mock-battles. Why, look at the singer Stevie Nicks, who had written the song "Rhiannon," based on another character from the Mabinogion. Music critics had mocked her, believing she took the role of the "Welsh witch" seriously, wearing her trademark long dresses and flowing scarves on stage--a pop star's idea of what an enchantress should look like. Blodeuedd had simply taken the whole thing a step further, and come to believe the old legends were real.

At least, that's what Kyle told himself; he didn't examine that logic too closely. He lived his life as if he were in a fairy tale: the lucky man who had won a moon princess or a lady of the Sidhe to be his bride. But there was always a condition--Orestes was allowed to take his wife Eurydice back from the underworld on the condition that he not look back as she followed him; the Crane Wife of Japanese folklore told her husband he must never watch her when she wove the splendid cloth she gave him to sell; and Melusine told her husband she must spend one day each week alone in her bath, and he must never look in on her or he would lose her forever. And of course curiosity got the better of the men: Orestes looked back; the husbands of the Crane and Melusine peeked in on their wives and saw not women, but a crane and a serpent. And they all lost their loved ones forever. Kyle was not going to push his luck; he would not look back or open the forbidden door--he would simply enjoy his life with Blodeuedd, and not question how it had come about.
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For about a month, things went smoothly. Kyle's friends and colleagues seemed relieved that he was no longer depressed. "Got a new girlfriend?" asked one of his fellow professors. "You've got a real spring in your step these days!"

Kyle smiled and shook his head. The professor grinned and gave him a sly wink, as if to say, If you don't want to talk about it, OK, but I know better. Kyle didn't mind; Blodeuedd was his secret, a precious jewel or rare flower that was his alone. Just thinking about her made him smile.

Simon called one day and asked if he'd bought anything from Count D.

"Uh...not exactly..." Kyle hedged. The Count had said not to show Blodeuedd to anyone; he didn't say not to talk about her, but it seemed safer not to. Besides, she wasn't exactly a pet...was she?

Simon didn't press him on the issue; perhaps he knew that the Count sold merchandise of a questionable nature. Just how much did Simon know, anyway? Kyle wondered. Did he send Kyle to Count D's simply because the man was a friend of his Chinese wife? Or did he know of the back rooms with incense and mysterious animals who took human form? Just why had Simon sent him there...?

"I went to the shop; it was an, um...interesting...experience," said Kyle. To say the least! "But don't worry about me, Simon. I'm fine, totally over the breakup, really!"

"Really?"

"Absolutely! I'm getting on with my life now, no more moping around. Hey, I even took up a new hobby--gardening!"

"You?!" Simon burst out laughing. "You, the guy who can't even mow his own lawn? Do you even know the difference between a flower and a weed?"

"Hey, my garden is totally weed-free!"

"So what are you growing? Vegetables? Flowers?"

"Flowers--pansies, daisies, and cornflowers. The yard is beautiful--it looks like a rainbow! That old lemon tree in the back yard is perking up too, I think it might start bearing fruit again this year."

"I can't wait to see it! I can't believe you of all people have developed a green thumb! Hey, maybe by the next time I visit, you can serve me fresh lemonade!"

"Sure," said Kyle, but he felt a bit guilty taking the credit. It was Blodeuedd who had made the garden come to life. The flowers sprung up as if by magic. Even the grass seemed affected by her presence, growing in thick and lush. And Blodeuedd had also started tending the trees, paying special attention to the stunted fruit tree that usually bore only a few small, sour lemons. It seemed almost as if the branches bent down to receive her caress when she reached up to touch them. Each day, the leaves seemed greener and more abundant, and the tree seemed to stand a little taller, like a man who stood up straight and puffed out his chest when a pretty girl walked by.

"We might be in the area next month," said Simon, interrupting Kyle's thoughts. "Wenjing has some business to take care of, and we thought we'd make a family outing of it. Maybe you can give us a tour of your garden?"

"Uh, sure, give me call when you get here," said Kyle. That was a complication he hadn't considered: how could he have visitors without revealing Blodeuedd's presence? He supposed she could stay up in her bedroom, but it didn't seem fair to keep her locked away in her own home. Besides, even if the contract hadn't forbidden it, he found he didn't want to share Blodeuedd's presence with anyone, not even his old friend. She was HIS secret! He'd think of some excuse to postpone the visit; tell Simon the house was being renovated, or that he had business that would keep him in the city.

"You do sound a lot better," said Simon. "I'm glad; I was really worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"So, what happened with you and Julia, anyway? You two seemed so good together." There was a long silence. "If you don't want to talk about it, just tell me it's none of my business."

"No, it's OK," said Kyle. "She said I smothered her, that she 'needed her space,' whatever that means!" He laughed, trying to keep it light, but it came out bitter. "Women! If a guy goes out drinking with the guys, they complain you're ignoring them, but when you try to be romantic and spend time with them they say you're being too clingy!" He remembered the last time he had seen Julia...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"This is crazy, Julia!" Kyle protested as she flung her clothes into a suitcase. "Don't do this, we can still work things out!"

Julia turned towards him, her green eyes flashing with anger. She had long, beautiful red hair, and a redhead's stereotypical temper. That was what he had loved about her, at first: her fiery spirit. "No, Kyle, we cannot! Not as long as you insist on smothering me!"

"I thought I was loving you, not smothering you!" he protested.

"You won't let me spend any time alone!" she retorted. "You don't like it when I spend time with my girlfriends or even my family--"

"That's not true! I like your friends and family!"

"When I want to go shopping with a friend, you insist on coming along! If I want to have a mother-daughter lunch with my mom, you find some excuse to tag along! It's like you don't trust me--do you think I'm screwing around when I'm at the mall with my friends?!"

"Of course I trust you!" Kyle shouted. "I just want to spend time with you! Lots of girls can't even drag their boyfriends to a family dinner! You should be glad I enjoy seeing your family! I just want to spend every minute I can with you because I love you!"

"That's not love, Kyle," said Julia, with more pity than anger. "That's suffocation. You can't stand for me to have even a small piece of my life that doesn't include you. Sometimes I want to talk girl-talk with a friend. Sometimes I want to spend some special time alone with my mom. Just because I don't want to be with you every minute of the day doesn't mean I don't love you. But you don't believe in my love--you think if I want to spend the day with my girlfriends it's a rejection of you. You think if you let me out of your sight, I'll forget about you, that if you're not with me constantly, I'll run away. Love requires trust, Kyle. It requires faith. And I'm hurt that you don't have faith in me."

"That's not true," he protested weakly. But deep down, he knew it was. It was hard to believe that such an incredible woman could really love him. He needed her close by, so that he could turn around at any time, and be reassured that she was still there. He loved her so much that he wanted to spend all his time in her presence; he didn't need anything or anyone else. Why couldn't she understand that? Why didn't she need him the same way?

"I don't think you ever really loved me, Kyle."

"How can you say that?!"

"You just needed someone, anyone to cling to. You don't trust anyone because you think they'll leave you the same way your parents left you."

"How dare you!" he yelled, his face turning white.

"You should talk to someone, Kyle, get some help."

"Spare me your pop psychology," he sneered.

Julia slammed the suitcase shut, a stray sleeve still hanging out of it. "Goodbye, Kyle," she said as she left, closing the door quietly behind her.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Kyle? Are you still there?"

"Huh?" Simon's voice brought Kyle back to the present. "Yeah, I'm here. Listen, I have to go, but I'll see you soon. Give me a call when you're in town, OK?"

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with Julia," Simon said quietly.

"Yeah, well, that's life, huh? Don't worry about it. Look, I really have to go now. You take care. Bye."

Kyle hung up the phone abruptly. The call had upset him more than he wanted to admit. Well, not the call exactly, but the memories it stirred up.

"Kyle?"

Kyle turned to see Blodeuedd standing behind him, holding a basket containing her gardening tools. She looked lovely in jeans and a blue and white flowered shirt, her long hair tied back in a loose ponytail with a blue ribbon. As always, he was dazzled by her smile.

"I was going out to the garden," she said. "Do you wish to join me?"

"Of course!" Kyle said. Some fresh air should help clear his mind.

As he walked out the back door and into the garden, he paused to take in its beauty. The sun was shining, the sky was a cloudless blue, and the flowers were bright and cheerful. Birds perched on the tree branches, filling the air with their song, and other birds hopped about in the garden, looking for seeds and insects.

"How beautiful," said Kyle, without thinking. "Maybe we should build a bird feeder--"

As soon as Blodeuedd stepped into the garden behind him, all the birds took off into the air, with a sudden flurry of wings. Birdsong turned into shrieks of fear. One bold magpie landed on the highest tree branch, and squawked at Blodeuedd mockingly.

Blodeuedd dropped her basket, the tools falling to the ground with a clatter. Kyle turned to see her, face chalk-white, blue eyes wide with horror and despair. The pain in those eyes was like a knife that cut into his soul. Kyle suddenly remembered the excerpt from the Mabinogion: "'For the shame thou hast done unto thy husband, Llew Llaw Gyffes,' Gwydion said, 'I will not slay thee, but I will do unto thee far worse than that. I will turn thee into a bird that all other birds will shun...'"

And now Kyle belatedly realized that he had never seen any birds in the yard when Blodeuedd was present. Blodeuedd burst into tears and ran back into the house. Kyle ran after her. He found her, collapsed in a heap on the living room floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He hovered over her helplessly, not knowing what to do.

"What's wrong, Blodeuedd?" he asked, patting her on the back awkwardly. Dumb question, Kyle! he thought. You KNOW what's wrong!

"Gwydion's curse," sobbed Blodeuedd. "I will never escape it! Yes, I tried to kill Llew, but they condemned me to eternal punishment. Death would be kinder than this! Gwydion's and Llew's bones have been dust for hundreds of years now, yet I still live under their curse! Have I not yet paid for my crime?"

"Gwy...Gwydion...you mean you really ARE Blodeuedd, the Blodeuedd of the Mabig, the Mabin..." Kyle stammered.

"The Mabinogion," finished Blodeuedd bitterly. "My story, my shame, my curse, recorded for all to read. Gwydion spoke truly when he said my fate would be worse than death."

"But...but..." Kyle couldn't put together a coherent sentence. She couldn't REALLY be the Blodeuedd of myth! She was only a disturbed woman, right? Just someone who lived in a fantasy world? But he had seen the birds' reaction to her... He tried to pull himself together. "Is...is this really such a terrible life, Blodeuedd?" he asked, trying to speak gently, comfortingly, but his voice sounded desperate to his own ears. "You have your garden, you have me. If there's anything else I can do for you--"

"You have been kind to me, Kyle," she said, her voice hoarse with grief. "But I cannot live like this anymore." She saw the look of fear on his face, and laughed bitterly. "Not that I have any choice! Do not fear that I will take my own life, Kyle. It is impossible. Believe me--I have tried. Gwydion thought death would be too quick and easy a punishment."

"There are men who would pay any price for immortality," said Kyle.

"I don't want to be immortal! To spend eternity as an owl--with the taste of blood in my mouth every night--is a living hell! To see the birds flee me, that once sang to me when I was a field of flowers...that would come to my hand even after Math and Gwydion changed me into a woman...their song comforted me then, when I lived in the castle, longing for my fields."

"You...didn't wish to become a woman, then?" asked Kyle hesitantly. He felt as if he were once more in the Count's incense-filled room, not sure if this was reality or a dream. He felt like the man in the fairy tale who had just opened a forbidden door...

"No," said Blodeuedd. "I never wanted to become human. No one asked me; who could ask consent of a flower? But after they changed me into a woman, no one asked my consent then, either. They just assumed that, as their creation, I would do as they pleased. I was a puppet, a pet; no one expected me to have a mind of my own. One may treat a lapdog with affection, even pamper it with dainties to eat and a cushion by the fireside, but no one asks the dog if it consents to be owned. I was a pretty ornament to grace Llew's arm and his bed, and to bear his children. They did not expect me to have freewill, to remember what it was like to be flowers...such mighty sorcerers, they thought the world was theirs to bend to their will...but they forgot nature is a force that no man can fully control."

"You...remember what it was like to be flowers?" asked Kyle. "Do plants have, well, uh...awareness...?" The thought of each flower in the garden being intelligent and having its own personality was rather disconcerting.

"Not a human awareness, no. But I remember the warmth of the sun shining down on me, the coolness of the rainfall, the caress of the wind...I remember the way my roots drew strength from the earth. I was content, I suppose. Flowers do not have human emotions...love, hate, fear, jealousy... By all the gods, I wish I could become flowers once more!"

The thought of losing her terrified Kyle. He tried to think of something, anything, that might change her mind. "But...were you ever happy as a human? Didn't you love Gronw Bebyr? Or was that love not worth the price you paid?" Was the pain that love inevitably brought ever worth the price? wondered Kyle.

"I never loved Gronw," Blodeuedd said. She smiled wryly at the startled look on Kyle's face. "You must not believe everything the bards say! He did not love me either; he lusted after my body, and coveted my husband's lands."

"But then, why--?"

"I wanted to hurt Llew, to take revenge on him for condemning me to this form, for never noticing my unhappiness. I tried to tell him, but it was difficult for me to put into words, being new to human shape and emotions, and he never really listened to me anyway. Though I was his wife, I barely knew him...he was always off hunting, and going to battle, doing all the things a warrior prince does. Perhaps if I had truly been human, he would have treated me differently..." Her voice trailed off, and she was silent for a moment. "Perhaps not. But even after I thought we had killed, or at least banished Llew, I was not happy. I was still trapped in this human form, when all I wanted was to return to the earth from which I had been uprooted. I should have killed myself while I had the chance; then at least my misery would have been over. Now I am trapped in this form for all time."

Blodeuedd stopped talking, exhausted by her weeping and her grief. Kyle had no idea what to say. Finally, just to break the silence, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

"How did you come all the way from Wales to Count D's shop in Chinatown?"

"The Count's grandfather found me in a forest in Wales many years ago," she replied. Kyle wondered what an elderly Chinese man had been doing wandering through a Welsh forest. Blodeuedd continued, "I was in my owl form, had been for more years than I can count. I was half-mad with grief and anger, could barely remember the time when I had been human. I had almost come to take pleasure in the hunt; when I tore apart the birds I had once loved, I pretended they were the men who had trapped me in this form." Kyle shuddered at the expression on her face, one he had never seen before: a kind of feral hunger, the look of a wild beast ready to lash out at its attacker.

Then the strange look left Blodeuedd's face, and she sighed wearily. "He somehow recognized that I was not a normal owl; he spoke to me--I did not understand what he said, but his words calmed me somehow. His touch granted me a measure of peace, stilled my anger, at least for a brief time. He..." She hesitated. "I thought at first he was another sorcerer, but now I am not sure. Perhaps he and his grandson are faery folk, or some kind of spirits. I know they are not normal humans."

"Why does that not surprise me?" mumbled Kyle.

"He brought me to the shop, and somehow they helped me regain my human form, at least during the day. The Count said they could not totally cancel the curse; I must still take the form of an owl every night and go hunting. I have lived there ever since. The Count and his companions have treated me with compassion."

"Why did he sell you to me?" asked Kyle.

"I do not know," replied Blodeuedd. "He said he helped the people who came to his shop find 'love, hope, and dreams.' He said if the right person came along, we might find happiness together. He implied that the right person might break the curse."

"What?!" exclaimed Kyle. "Is that true?!"

Blodeuedd shrugged indifferently. "I do not know; I lost all my hope long ago. Gwydion never mentioned any means by which his spell could be broken."

"Well, of course he wouldn't tell you!" said Kyle excitedly. "He wouldn't want you to be able to break the curse! There must be a way! There always is, in the fairy tales--"

"This is not a fairy tale," began Blodeuedd. Then she gasped, "The change--please, I don't want you to see--" Her voice broke off, and the air around her seemed to shimmer.

"What the hell--!" Kyle suddenly noticed that the room had become dark. Hours had passed while Blodeuedd told her story, and night had fallen. Her form seemed to blur, shrinking in upon itself. He rubbed his eyes, and when he looked up again, an owl sat on the floor in Blodeuedd's place. To his horror, he saw it had her sad blue eyes. It--she--flew up into the air towards the nearest window, beating her wings against the glass. Kyle hurried over and threw the window open, and Blodeuedd flew out into the night sky.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________


Kyle could not sleep. He stayed up all night, replaying in his mind everything he had seen and heard, over and over again. When dawn broke, he went up to Blodeuedd's room. She was sprawled across the bed, asleep, blood smeared across her mouth and the front of her shirt. Hands trembling, he quietly backed out and shut the door.

Later that morning Kyle called in sick and canceled his classes. Then he drove to the city, heading straight for Chinatown.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The doors of the shop swung back on their hinges, crashing against the wall. Count D looked up, raising an eyebrow. He had been expecting Mr. Hamilton, but his method of entry was more akin to that of a certain police detective... Kyle Hamilton looked even worse than he had on his first visit; his clothes still looked as if he'd slept in them, his face was unshaven, and his eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles beneath them.

"Count!" Kyle shouted.

The Count took a sip of tea from a white porcelain cup decorated with images of tiny red bats. Today his nails were a deep blood-red, matching his cheongsam, which was red, with designs of flowers and birds embroidered in gold. "What can I do for you today, Mr. Hamilton?" he asked calmly.

"Why didn't you tell me about Blodeuedd's curse?" demanded Kyle. "How could you let her live like that?"

"Please take a seat, Mr. Hamilton, and let me pour you some tea."

"I don't want any tea! I want some answers!"

"Sit," said the Count, gently but firmly, "and you shall have them." He waited, sipping his tea, until Kyle sat down on the couch, glaring at him.

The Count placed another cup in front of his guest, and poured some tea. Both the cup and the teapot were painted with the same design as the Count's cup. "Bats are a symbol of happiness in China," he said.

"Kyu!" squeaked Q-chan in agreement. He flew down to the coffee table, and Count D poured some tea into a saucer for his pet. Q-chan lapped at the tea, then waddled over to a large plate on the table. It was filled with small square cakes covered with pastel-colored icing. Q-chan picked one up and bit into it, munching happily.

The Count motioned towards the plate with a languid wave of his hand. "Please try some of these petit fours, they are quite delicious."

"I don't want tea or cake," said Kyle through gritted teeth. "I want to know how to break Blodeuedd's curse! Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"I did say that the lady was under a spell," the Count reminded him. "But it was her story to tell, not mine." As Kyle continued to glare at him, Count D took another sip of tea and said mildly, "I am not sure why you are angry with me. If you know the story behind the curse, you know it was not I who placed it upon her. I merely gave her shelter, and tried to make her life more comfortable."

Kyle flushed, and had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Sorry. I was so angry, I guess I wanted to take it out on someone, and Gwydion's not around anymore."

"The fact that Blodeuedd told you her story speaks well of you. She would not have told it to someone she did not trust."

Kyle took a sip of tea, feeling a little calmer. It pleased him to think that Blodeuedd trusted him. But he was still suspicious of the Count's motives. "Why did you sell her to me? You must've thought I had the power to break the curse! There is a way to break it, isn't there?"

"Of course," said the Count with a serene smile. He picked up one of the petit fours, holding it between the long nails of his thumb and forefinger as he placed it between his plum-colored lips. He chewed slowly as Kyle squirmed with impatience.

"Well?!" demanded Kyle.

After a long moment, the Count swallowed and replied, "There are actually two ways to break the curse. The first would be for Llew to forgive Blodeuedd. Obviously, that is no longer possible."

"And the second?!" Kyle fought down an urge to strangle the Count, who seemed to be dragging out the story for dramatic effect.

"A man who truly loves her may grant Blodeuedd her freedom."

"How? What do I have to do? Slay a dragon? Go on a quest for the Water of Life, what?"

The Count laughed softly. "You have been reading too many fairy tales, Mr. Hamilton. All you must do is say 'I release you,' and truly mean it in your heart."

"That's all?" asked Kyle incredulously.

"It is not as simple as it seems, Mr. Hamilton. You would be giving her complete freedom: not just freeing her from her owl form, but giving her the ability to choose her own destiny. To remain a human woman, if that is her wish, or to once again become a field of flowers. The freedom to stay with you...or to leave you." The Count's eyes narrowed as he watched Kyle intently. The professor turned pale as the full implications of Count D's words sank in. "Ah, it is not such an easy decision after all, is it? It is often difficult to let go of the ones we love."

"I...I could lose her," whispered Kyle. "She said...she wants to become flowers once more."

"Even if she chose to remain human, she could still leave you," pointed out the Count. "Breaking the spell requires that you love her; it does not require that she love you."

"I can't...I can't do it! I can't bear to lose her!"

"Well then, the contract still holds. She is your pet, your property, as long as you continue to follow the conditions we agreed to."

The Count spoke in a cool, businesslike tone, but Kyle flinched as if he had been struck. How could he keep Blodeuedd like a slave, when he had promised earlier he would never hold her against her will? But the thought of losing her, of being alone again... He buried his head in his hands, and groaned, "What should I do?!"

"That must be your decision," said the Count. "No one else, not I, nor even Blodeuedd, can make it for you. To break the spell, you must sincerely desire to give her the freedom to make her own choice, even if it means losing her forever. If you say the words, but do not feel them in your heart, the curse will not be broken." Kyle stared at him blankly. After several minutes of silence, the Count asked, "Is there any other business you wished to discuss today?" Kyle shook his head. "Then I am afraid there is nothing more I can do for you." The Count sipped his tea. "Good day, Mister Hamilton."

Kyle stumbled to his feet and staggered out the door, looking like a man walking away from a car wreck or a drinking binge. Q-chan fluttered up to the Count's shoulder. "Chu?" he asked softly.

D reached up and stroked his pet. "I do not know if he will have the strength to break the curse," he replied. "I had such hopes for him..." The Count sighed. "But perhaps he is not the one." He looked down at his cup and frowned. "The tea is cold; we shall have to make a fresh pot. Come, Q-chan."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Kyle didn't tell Blodeuedd what Count D had told him, and she didn't ask where he had gone. He kept trying to rationalize not releasing Blodeuedd from her curse. Flowers were so fragile, he told himself. They could be destroyed by a storm, dug up by animals, be trampled or picked by humans. She was much safer as a person; he was just keeping her safe. But he didn't really believe it.

Blodeuedd withdrew into herself, speaking only if spoken to, and even then, said as little as possible. She stopped reading the books in Kyle's library, and they no longer had their long talks over dinner. She spent most of her time in her room, staring off blankly into space.

She even stopped working in the garden. One morning he found bloody feathers on the ground beneath her window. Kyle bought houseplants to try and cheer her up, but she ignored them as she ignored everything else. He ended up taking care of them himself, not wanting to let them die.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Kyle dutifully went out to the yard to water the plants. It seemed to him that the flowers were drooping, although they had been perfectly healthy a few days ago. "Sorry, guys," he said ruefully. "I'm doing my best, but I know it's not the same." As he watered the lemon tree, its leaves rustled softly, as if it were asking, "Where is Blodeuedd?" Kyle's eyes filled with tears, and he leaned against the tree, pressing his face against the rough bark, and whispered, "I miss her too."

He went back into the house, and found Blodeuedd in her room. She sat in a chair in the corner, staring at the wall. The curtains were drawn across the windows, as if she no longer wanted to be reminded of the outside world.

"Blodeuedd," Kyle said. When she did not respond, he touched her gently on the shoulder, and she turned towards him. She was wearing the same blue gown she had worn on the day he met her. Her outward appearance had not changed; she didn't look haggard and unkempt like he did. Her gown was clean and unwrinkled; her skin was still flawless and creamy-pale, no dark circles under the eyes or frown-lines on her forehead; and her golden hair was still smooth and shiny. Yet she seemed like a shadow of her former self, all the life, all the hope drained out of her. Perhaps she had not had much hope to begin with, but neither had he. Somehow they had found a small measure of comfort in each other's company...had he destroyed that with his selfishness? Or had they been doomed from the start by Gwydion's curse?

"Blodeuedd," he repeated. "Please come out to the garden with me." She shook her head. "The flowers...they're not doing so well. And the lemon tree misses you." I miss you, he thought.

"I'm sorry, Kyle," she whispered. "They'll have to manage without me."

"But why?" he pleaded. "I thought you loved the flowers!"

"It hurts too much to see them, to be reminded of what I have lost."

"I know you want to return to your flower form, but is being a woman really so bad? You were so happy when we first started the garden--"

"For a brief time each day, I was able to pretend that the curse did not exist. But it was only an illusion; there is no escaping my fate."

"But what about the books? Would you ever have learned of Shakespeare and Yeats and Keats as a flower?"

"Keats died young," she murmured, "like a flower dying as it blooms." She sighed, and her eyes seemed to look past him, back through the centuries. "Gronw never stopped to think what revenge a powerful mage might take for the murder of his beloved nephew. But I did. I thought I did not care what happened to me. I thought the worst he could do was kill me." A single tear left a glistening trail across her cheek. "I was wrong."

"Please," begged Kyle, "Blodeuedd, don't give up hope. We'll go traveling, we can see all the famous gardens in America and Europe--" Wait, no, the contract said no one else could see her! "I'll build a greenhouse," he babbled desperately. "We'll have exotic flowers all year round--any kind of flower you want! Every kind of flower you can imagine!" Just please, please don't leave me! he silently implored her.

"I have no strength left to fight," she whispered. Kyle looked into her eyes, and saw that she had gone beyond pain, beyond anger, even beyond despair. Her eyes were empty of any emotion, save for a vague weariness.

He wanted to shake her, even slap her; anything to get a reaction out of her, to break her out of her trance! He wanted to kiss her...

Kyle ran out of the room. Without thinking, he found himself running up the stairs to the attic. His legs felt wobbly, and he sat down heavily, almost fell as his legs folded under him. He leaned back against a large chest for support. He gasped for breath, heart pounding. What the hell was wrong with him?! How could he even think about hitting Blodeuedd? No wonder she had told the Count that all men were the same! Was he no better than Llew or Gwydion? But he was so scared of losing her!

After a few minutes he became aware of his surroundings. Old lamps and furniture, covered with dust...cardboard boxes...the large wooden chest he was leaning against. He slowly turned and ran his hand across the lid, wiping away a layer of dust. It was an old cedar chest that had belonged to his mother, and her mother before that...a family heirloom, she had said. But he had no family anymore...they were all dead; all but him. His hands moved of their own accord, without his willing it, slowly lifting the lid of the chest. He felt detached from reality, as if he were watching himself move through a dream. He laid out the contents of the chest on the floor, one by one. A patchwork quilt his mother had sewn for him when he was a child. His baby clothes, folded into neat little squares. An old teddy bear, threadbare from too much hugging, missing one button eye, and oozing stuffing from a tear in its belly. Misshapen clay ashtrays and animals he had made for his parents as a child. His mother's wedding dress, the white satin and lace turning yellow with age. A bouquet of dried flowers, also from the wedding. A half-full crystal bottle of his mother's favorite perfume.

He began opening the other boxes in the attic, continuing to lay the items out methodically. He didn't want to look at these things, these memories from his past, but he seemed to have no control over his body as it unpacked more clothes, his mother's good china, his father's collection of jazz albums, and finally...a box filled with photo albums and framed pictures, including a family portrait of himself at age 7 or 8 with his parents. They were younger than he was now; forever frozen in time, a lovely young couple smiling at the camera as if they didn't have a care in the world. His hands began to tremble and his eyes blurred with tears. The picture slipped from his fingers, the glass shattering as it hit the floor.

The sound of breaking glass triggered something in Kyle, setting off a sudden frenzied rage. He began destroying everything he could lay his hands on: he hurled his mother's china plates against the wall, threw his father's prized records to the floor, stomping on the vinyl till it broke into pieces. He flung a chair across the room; it crashed into an old lamp, scattering shards of glass all over the floor. He smashed his clay figures and the delicate perfume bottle, and the sickly-sweet scent of perfume filled the air. He slipped in the puddle of perfume, and fell to the floor. The rage drained out of him then, leaving behind only the sense of loss and a desperate loneliness. He lay on the floor, heedless of the shards of glass and pottery, and for the first time in years, he wept.

"Why does everyone I love leave me?" he cried out.

"Kyle? Are you all right?"

He looked up and through his tears, he saw Blodeuedd kneeling beside him. He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve, and saw an expression of concern on her face. He felt incredibly touched that she had actually come out of her shell to come and check on him.

"It sounded like there was a demon or a horde of warriors loose up here," she said.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," he said, but the smile on his face belied his words. He sat up, brushing shards of glass from his body. "It was just me."

She looked around the attic. "You did all this?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm afraid so."

"Why?"

Kyle's smile faded. He couldn't meet her eyes anymore. He looked away, and his gaze fell on the picture of himself and his parents. He picked it up. The glass in the frame was broken, but the photo beneath it was intact.

"Is that you?" asked Blodeuedd.

"Yes," he replied softly. "Me...and my parents. They died in a plane crash when I was 12. My dad was going on a business trip, and my mom went along to keep him company. I wanted to go too, but they said I'd miss too much school. I think maybe they just wanted to spend some time together--you know, a few days alone without the kid. They really loved each other, even after being married all those years. He used to bring her flowers all the time. I heard Mom joking with Dad before they left, about their 'romantic getaway'. I was really mad about being left behind with a baby-sitter. I remember my mom hugged me and kissed me goodbye when they left, but I was sulking, and I didn't hug her back. The plane crashed several hours later. Everyone on board was killed. And I didn't tell my parents I loved them. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," said Blodeuedd gently.

Kyle felt that familiar hollow emptiness inside him once more, a void no one had ever been able to fill, not even Julia. She had been right, he now realized, when she had said that he hadn't trusted her, that he hadn't really loved her. He had thought she could fill the empty space inside him, but it hadn't worked, driving him to cling to her desperately, demanding more and more of her time and affection. But somehow no matter how much she had assured him that she loved him, it was never enough. How could he trust anyone when the people he had loved the most had left him without warning? For a time, Blodeuedd had kept the loneliness at bay, but now she too had left him, in spirit if not in body.

"Are you?" Kyle asked bitterly. "Can you really know what it's like to lose your family? You never had parents, unless you consider the wizards who created you your fathers."

"No! Gwydion and Math were no kin of mine! I do not have parents, if you go by the human definition. But my mother was the earth, and my father the sun and rain. And it hurt me to be pulled from my mother's embrace, as it would hurt a human child to be torn from its mother's arms."

Kyle lowered his head guiltily. He had been so wrapped up in his own pain that he had forgotten hers. "I'm sorry," he said. He looked at the mess on the floor and felt even more ashamed of himself. In a fit of pique, like a child throwing a temper tantrum, he had destroyed his parents' possessions--not valuable monetarily, perhaps, but irreplaceable because they were all he had left of his mother and father. He began picking up pieces of broken glass, mumbling, "Sorry, I'll clean up the mess."

"Let me help," said Blodeuedd.

"No, that's all right--ouch!" Kyle exclaimed suddenly as he nicked his fingers on a sharp shard of glass.

"Be careful! You'll hurt yourself! Let me see..." Blodeuedd took his hand in hers. Her hands were soft and gentle, and Kyle shivered with longing.

"Do you care?" he asked urgently, gazing into her eyes intently. "Do you care what happens to me?"

Blodeuedd stared back at him, her exquisite blue eyes filled with confusion. "What do you mean? You have been kind to me; why should I wish you ill?"

"Never mind," Kyle sighed in disappointment. "It doesn't matter." He pulled his hand back. "It's nothing, only a scratch." For a moment, he had hoped that her concern meant she cared for him the way he cared for her. But she only saw him as a friend; perhaps not even that...perhaps he was only a kinder master than Gwydion or Llew. He had thought they had developed, if not exactly a romance, then a least a friendship while working on the garden and reading books together. But what true friend holds a friend against their will? He had the power to free her...but he was afraid to lose her.

Blodeuedd helped him clean up the the attic. They swept up the glass and broken items, and packed away the things that were still intact. Kyle hesitated over the photo albums. "What are those?" asked Blodeuedd.

"Pictures of my family," he replied. He didn't want to discourage even the slightest sign of curiosity in her; even the pain of facing his past was better than seeing her in that utterly numb, hopeless state. So he opened the album he was holding, revealing candid family shots: his parents kissing at a New Year's Eve party; himself blowing out candles on a birthday cake; he and his father playing catch in the yard; his mother reading to him as he sat on her lap, clutching his teddy bear; all three of them building a sand castle on the beach.

"They look very happy," said Blodeuedd, a little wistfully. "It seems as though they loved each other, and you."

"Yes, they did...we did," replied Kyle in a husky voice. "Very much." He was unable to say anything else; he was afraid if he did he would burst into tears again.

"Did you have other kin, who took you in when your parents died?"

Kyle took a deep breath and wiped his eyes before he answered. "My parents were both only children, so I didn't have any aunts or uncles. My mother's parents had died years earlier, and my father's parents were in poor health, and not up to taking care of a child. But my father was wealthy, and left a large trust fund for me. He left me this house, and plenty of money...enough so that I can do what I love--teach--without worrying about paying the bills. But I would trade it all away if it would bring my parents back..." He sighed. "Anyway, I went to boarding school most of the year, and spent holidays with my grandparents. They did their best but...they never got over losing my dad." He hesitated, then said softly, "Neither did I. They died when I was in college, first my grandmother, then my grandfather just a month later. I think he just lost the will to live after losing his son and then his wife."

"Gwydion loved Llew," said Blodeuedd, in a tone that was more surprised than bitter, as if this had never occurred to her before. "As deeply as a father loves his son. He was both father and mother to Llew, since Arianrhod rejected him. He used to look at Llew the way your father looked at you in these pictures. There was nothing he would not do for Llew." They were both silent for a long moment, thinking of the incredible things Gwydion had done for his nephew's sake--including creating a woman out of flowers. "He let no insult or harm to Llew, however slight, pass unpunished. I overheard Math telling him once that perhaps he loved the boy too much. But I did not understand what he meant."

"Maybe he meant that Gwydion was too overprotective of Llew. I remember my father telling my mother once, 'Sometimes you have to let them make their own mistakes.' I didn't understand that either, then. But as children grow up, their parents need to let them go, otherwise how will they learn to stand on their own?" Kyle fell silent then, remembering the Count's words: "It is often difficult to let go of the ones we love." And then a line from a song popped into his head: "If you love someone, set them free." He choked back a hysterical giggle. I can't believe Sting is acting as my conscience! he thought. How did the original saying go? Something like "if you love something, set it free. If it returns it is yours; if not, it was never yours to begin with." He closed his eyes, and finally acknowledged what he had known all along: Blodeuedd was not his, had never been his, no matter what the contract said. She was her own person, or at least she deserved to be, having had to serve the will of men ever since she was created.

"Kyle?" asked Blodeuedd softly. "Are you all right?"

He blinked and looked into her clear blue eyes. He could force her to stay with him, and she wouldn't even blame him, since she didn't know that he could break the curse. But she would be miserable, and he couldn't bear to see her so unhappy anymore. He felt a terrible, physical pain at the thought of losing her, as if someone had slid a knife into his heart--no wonder they call it heartbreak, he thought. But he knew he had to let her go. Perhaps that was what love really was--not romance and flowers and diamond rings--but caring for someone enough that you would place their happiness above your own.

Kyle rose to his feet, and took Blodeuedd by the hand. He had to do this quickly, before he lost his nerve. "Blodeuedd, please come out to the garden with me."

"Kyle, I can't--"

"Please!" he begged. "Just this once! I'll never ask it of you again. Please..."

Blodeuedd opened her mouth to protest, but something in his eyes stopped her. She let Kyle pull her to her feet and lead her out to their garden.

They stood in the midday sun, in the middle of the flower bed. Kyle took one last long look at her, memorizing every detail of her face, from the cornflower-blue of her eyes to the way her pale gold hair curled against her cheek. Then he kissed her tenderly on the forehead and said, "I release you."

Blodeuedd stared at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly. Then she gasped as she felt waves of magic swirl around her.

Kyle smiled at her through his tears. She looked even more beautiful than usual, as sparkling motes of light whirled around her, like a swarm of jeweled fireflies. Although his heart ached, he somehow felt at peace. He realized he no longer felt hollow inside. "Be free, Blodeuedd," he said.

Blodeuedd wept, hardly daring to believe what was happening. Finally, after all these centuries, the curse had been lifted! She felt the magic brush against her skin like a gentle breeze, ready to do her bidding. All she had to do was will it, and she would become flowers once more. But she stopped to look at Kyle, the man who had freed her, one last time. But when she looked into his eyes...

No one had ever looked at her that way before. Gwydion had looked upon her with pride, at least before she had betrayed him, the way an artist looks at a great masterpiece he has created. Llew had admired her beauty, and treated her with offhand affection. Gronw had gazed upon her with a kind of greedy desire. No one had ever looked at her the way Kyle did now, with that odd mixture of sorrow and joy. She knew he desired her--yet he was letting her go.

She felt the magic beginning to dissipate--she had to make her choice quickly. For hundreds of years she had dreamed of this moment...why was she hesitating now? Memories flashed through her mind:

Kyle handing her a potted violet.

The feel of the cool, moist dirt beneath her fingers as she dug in the garden.

She and Kyle laughing together as they worked in the garden.

She and Kyle discussing books together over dinner.

Kyle weeping on the attic floor.

The lemon tree, waking to her touch, as if from a long hibernation...had not Kyle woken her from her own hibernation?

And finally...Count D telling her, "You must choose."

Humans were tormented by emotions that flowers did not have to endure...fear, anger, sorrow. She had longed to return to the blissful oblivion of plant life. Yet that would also mean giving up joy and laughter...and love. Blodeuedd made her decision.

Kyle watched as the motes of light gradually faded away. Blodeuedd was still standing in the garden. "Wha...what happened?" he stuttered. "The spell--it wasn't broken?" He didn't dare to hope...

"It was broken, my love," said Blodeuedd. Kyle forgot to breathe as she reached up and gently caressed his cheek with her hand. She smiled, and he realized that all the times she had smiled before were but a shadow of the real thing. Her smile was like the sun emerging from behind the clouds, its light warming his soul. "This is my choice."

Kyle wept, this time with joy, as he pulled her into his arms and whispered, "I love you."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

EPILOGUE--two months later.

Leon strolled into the pet shop. "Hey, D."

"Good evening, Keiji-san," replied the Count pleasantly. "I have not seen you for awhile."

Leon eyed the Count warily. Uh-oh. Was D pissed that he hadn't stopped by the shop for several days? He didn't sound mad, but you could never tell with the Count...

"There was a string of gang-related shootings," said Leon defensively. "I've been pretty busy."

"But you are no longer busy?" inquired the Count.

"Nope, I solved the case, like the great detective I am!" said Leon proudly.

"Kyu," muttered Q-chan. Leon wondered how the little bat could make a one-syllable squeak sound so derisive.

"Anyway, here, this is for you," said Leon, handing the Count a box of Godiva chocolates.

"Mmm...chocolate caramels and amaretto truffles," said D opening the box. "Well, I suppose I shall forgive you this time." He spoke in a cool tone, but Leon hid a smile as he saw the gleam of greed in D's gold and purple eyes. He knew it was taking all of Mr. Inscrutable Asian's willpower not to just dive into the box of chocolates. He was so pleased with himself that he restrained himself from saying the words that were on the tip of his tongue: Why on earth do I need your forgiveness?

D saw Leon's smirk, but decided to let it pass for now. "And this is for you, Keiji-san." He handed Leon a cream-colored envelope.

Leon looked at the envelope and frowned. "This is addressed to you," he said.

"It says 'Count D and guest.' Read the card."

"'Kyle and Blodeuedd'--what the hell kind of name is that?"

"It means 'flower-like' in Welsh."

"--'invite you to share in their happiness as they join in marriage'--hey! This is a wedding invitation!"

"How astute of you to notice," said the Count sarcastically. "Is that your detective's intuition at work?"

"I don't even know these people!" protested Leon.

"But I do. And besides, Kyle is a friend of our friend, Simon Holt."

"So what? I hate weddings! Jill dragged me to her friend's wedding last month `cause her date canceled at the last minute, and man! I thought I was gonna die of boredom!" Not to mention the fact that his ribs had been bruised for days after, since she kept elbowing him in the side every time he started to fall asleep! "Wait a minute..." said Leon suspiciously. "Are you asking me to be your date?"

"Is there something wrong with that?" asked D, his polite tone of voice suddenly acquiring a sharp edge.

"Well...uh...not exactly...it's just..." What was wrong, was that Leon wasn't sure he was ready to be seen in public with D. They had developed a sort of tentative, off-and-on relationship. Leon frequently got cold feet, but he was never able to stay away from the mesmerizing Count for very long, which resulted in him spending a lot of money on pastries and chocolates as gifts to soothe his miffed lover. Lover...he had a hard time saying that word, even to himself. He could acknowledge in private that D was his lover, but was he ready to "come out" to the world? He already got a lot of smartass remarks and insulting innuendoes about him and the Count from some of his fellow cops. But they were still able to treat it as a joke, since no one but Jill knew for sure about him and D. But if it became public knowledge that he and the Count were an item...they could, and probably would, make his life a living hell.

"I doubt that any of your fellow police officers will be in attendance," said the Count dryly, reading his mind as usual. "However, if you are ashamed to be seen in public with me..."

"I'm not ashamed!" snapped Leon, which wasn't exactly true. "I hate weddings!" Well, at least that part was true!

The Count ignored him and continued, "...then I am sure I can find someone else to accompany me to the wedding."

"Like who?" demanded Leon jealously.

"Oh...Madame Jill, perhaps. Or that nice young man from the Chinese restaurant...Peter Chen. He has been asking me to teach him about Chinese culture and history. He is a 4th-generation Chinese American, and wishes to learn more about his heritage." D gave Leon his best sweet-and-innocent smile.

"Better watch out--remember what happened the last time some chef started romancing you!"

"He is not a chef; he is the delivery boy--"

"I don't care if he's the Emperor of China!"

"There is no Emperor in China anymore--"

"Never mind! I'll go to your stupid wedding, OK?!"

The Count smiled, magnanimous now that he had gotten his way. "Please sit, Leon-san, and have some tea. This is a special blend which should calm your nerves."

Leon huffed, and flopped down on the couch. "Do I have to wear a monkey suit?" he grumbled.

The Count smiled, as his imagination conjured up an image of Leon wearing a gorilla costume. But all he said was, "The invitation says 'casual attire'. The wedding is to be held outdoors, at the groom's residence. But I would prefer that you wear something a little less casual than a Metallica t-shirt."

"Hmmph. And I suppose you'll be wearing a dress?"

The Count considered telling Leon that he would soon be wearing the contents of the teapot if he kept referring to the Count's cheongsams as dresses. But he decided to show that he, unlike the detective, had some self-control and dignity.

Leon watched with amusement as the Count's lips thinned with irritation as he pressed them together tightly. D was always baiting him, but Leon had also learned a few of the Count's weak spots, enough to hold his own in their verbal sparring matches.

D got himself under control. The icy look in his eyes told Leon without words that he was beneath the Count's contempt, as he said, "I shall of course wear an informal cheongsam."

What the heck is an "informal cheongsam"? wondered Leon. But another thing he had learned was how far he could push his luck, and he sensed it would be wise not to annoy D any further...especially if he wanted to get lucky tonight.

Leon sighed and leaned back against the couch. "OK, you win--we go to the wedding; I won't wear a t-shirt, and you can wear--" He almost said "a dress," but D glared at him. "--whatever you like," finished Leon hastily. "Your, ah, informal cheongsam. Are you satisfied now?" he asked, exasperated.

"Not quite," said D with a mischievous little smile. He moved across the couch, and sat on the detective's lap, wrapping his arms around Leon's neck. "Now, I'm satisfied."

"Uh..." was all Leon could say, as he found his lap full of a silk-clad Count. The slippery silk was causing D to slide off his lap, and Leon quickly put his arms around D to keep him from falling off.

"Don't you know I always win?" the Count whispered into his ear.

That was usually true, thought Leon, and it was almost always easier to give in than to argue with the Count. He might argue the point with D later, but not right now. He brushed his lips against D's throat, murmuring, "Sometimes you can win by losing."

"Why, Keiji-san, that is almost profound!" said D. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet."

"Oh, shut up and kiss me," ordered Leon. And for once, the Count did not argue with him.

THE END.

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