Loving Destiny

 

Disclaimer:  These characters do not belong to me, but to the writers and producers of Roswell

Spoilers:  After Chant Down Babylon, changes happening where Max is successfully rescued, and Michael was the one who broke up with Maria.

Pairings:  You’ll have to wait and see!

Pronunciation Guide:  

Author’s notes:      Queen Fadilia Kedar: Max/Isabel’s mother

                                        King Alaric Kedar: Max/Isabel’s father

                                        Andaria: Tess’ mother

                                        Radim:  Tess’ father

                              Kedrans: race from which Royal Four descended

                                        Iturians: race from which Khivar descended, and overthrew and killed Zan and the Kedrans

                                        Cerideans:  special core ops of the Iturian army, mostly psyonics and telepaths

                                        Kaptar’s Jewel:  constellation in the Antarian’s star system

                                        Yun’s Garment:  Aurora Borealis - Northern Lights

                              Saren Dari:  desert plain on Antar

 

 

Chapter Fifty Two

 

***

In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.

                                                                                                      -  1 Pet. 1:6

***

 

"I have no more patience for the hybrid scum," the General seethed.  "Let him find us."

 

The Second Lieutenant nodded quietly.  "Shall I inform the Captain of your orders?" he inquired softly.  The General was definitely not in a good mood after the Captain had informed him of Rath and Ava's escape, and even more so when he came back from a private communications with King Khivar.  Everyone in the camp had been walking on eggshells, doing his or her best to keep a lid on the situation.

 

"Yes," said the robust man of no more than 40.  He stood staring into the dark barren landscape, with only the unfamiliar constellations hovering above him.  "We will take them tonight.  Inform the Captain we will need to mobilize the troop for battle and to take five of our best soldiers for the mission."

 

"Will you be going with them?"

 

The General paused a moment, as if now, with the option before him, he wasn't quite sure whether his decision was made.  Then with a shake of his head, the high ranking general sighed.  "No.  I must prepare for our meeting," he said gravely.  "This uprising will end by my hand."

 

The Second Lieutenant clicked his heels together, creating a loud knocking sound, and saluted his commander.  "Yes Sir!" he shouted forcefully as he had been trained to do.  Then the Lieutenant turned and jogged towards the area where a massive amount of tents had been set up.  In the forefront of the living quarters of the platoon of men was one large main tent.  Other than the main headquarters, which was a dome-like structure built in a sandscape region of the landmass, the General and other advisors met in this common area.  He acknowledged two stalwart guards posted outside, lifting the tentflap and entering the room full of soldiers.

 

"What is it?" the Captain demanded, as he looked up from the transparent geographical map of the area being projected in the middle of the table.

 

The Second Lieutenant stood at attention and saluted.  "Sir, the General has ordered the mobilization of the troop and a unit of five of our best soldiers to infiltrate the home and take the enemies captive. Sir."

 

"Are they all in the nest?"

 

The Lieutenant shook his head.  "No Sir.  But the General says that he wants it raided and that we will use the captives as bait," he explained.

 

The Captain looked around the table of higher ranking officers and moved his head slightly; the soldiers observed this signal and stood at attention.  "The General is ready to commence Operation 'Obselete'.  Captains, I trust you will mobilize your squadrons as efficiently as possible, and be prepared for battle against Zan and Vilandra at the General's command."  There was a similar expression upon each of the captains' faces - one of stoic and loyal obedience.  "Good," the Captain said omiously.  "Then take your leave and prepare your troops."

 

~~~

 

Liz walked slowly behind Max as they returned to the Evans'.  She felt numb and lost.  Part of her wished that she could have been selfish, and care nothing about Antar and whether Khivar existed or not; but she knew she could never have lived with that knowledge, and neither could Max.

 

Her eyes were downcast and she didn't realize Max had stopped walking until she bumped into him.  She looked up and saw that they had stopped a few feet short of the side door of the house.  "What is it?" she whispered cautiously.  Obviously Max thought something was wrong, she could tell by the serious expression that had fallen upon his face.

 

"The door's open," he whispered apprehensively.  "Mom never leaves the door open..."

 

Liz followed silently behind, as Max slowly approached the house.  As they neared the house, all was quiet and calm.  It seemed odd.  She looked down at her watch and noted the time.  8:45 p.m.  Everyone would have been home by then.

 

As they entered the kitchen, Liz noticed the strewn chairs and several broken dishes.  It looked like someone had a major fight in the room.  Her chest tightened as her thoughts turned to Maria and Kyle.  Max had told her about Jesse's kidnapping and how he had asked Maria and Kyle to check up on Isabel; now by the looks of the house, they could have returned to finish the job.

 

"Isabel!" Max bellowed, sidestepping a chair and stool and cautiously peering into the living room, and then the hallway.  "Maria?"

 

"Mrs. Evans?" Liz called.  "Mr. Evans?  Is anyone here?"

 

Liz couldn't figure out why the FBI would leave such a mess.  For the most part, she figured their M.O. was to leave everything neat and tidy - no trace of a struggle.  She walked down the hallway, as Max ran up the stairs to check the upper rooms, and with trepidation checked each bedroom for any of the missing people.  There was no one; and as she approached the last door at the end of the hallway, she felt a lump grow in her throat.  Liz swallowed nervously as her hand rested upon the doorknob.  After taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed opened the white painted door.

 

"MAX!" she screamed shrilly.  "Max!  Get down here!"

 

She fell to her knees and pressed her index and middle finger against Jesse's unconscious neck.  Her heart was racing, and she searched her memory for the CPR/First Aid training she had taken during high school.  What was she supposed to do?

 

Liz heard Max's thundering footsteps rush down the carpeted stairway and down the hall to her location.  She bit her bottom lip uneasily as she focused on whether Jesse had a pulse.  His face was pale and his lips dry and chapped.

 

"Where the hell did he come from?" Max exclaimed in shock.

 

Liz glanced over her shoulder at him and shook her head.  "I don't know.  I just found him lying on the ground," she said tersely.  "He has a pulse, but he doesn't look good Max."

 

She waited patiently as he stepped over Jesse's sprawled form and kneeled beside him.  He glanced once at Liz before placing his hands upon Jesse's chest.  Suddenly a warm white glow emitted from Max's hands.  She watched Jesse's face regain some color as Max finished healing Jesse's body.  When Max lifted his hand off of Jesse's chest, the dark Hispanic lawyer startled himself awake. 

 

"Isabel!" he cried, as his eyes darted around the room.  "Where's Isabel?"

 

Max glanced anxiously at Liz, and then turned to Jesse.  "How did you get here, Jesse?"

 

Jesse's eyes were wild with fear and uncertainty.  "Where's Isabel?" he repeated, agitated.

 

Liz placed a comforting hand upon Jesse's leg.  "Jesse, you have to help us.  We don't know where everyone is," she explained calmly.  "We came back to the house and found it a mess.  Do you know what happened?"

 

Jesse's brow was creased with worry, and he fidgeted nervously, habitually rubbing the back of his neck like he had been bit by a mosquito there.  "I...I...I don't know!"

 

Max grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.  "Do you remember how you got home?" he asked forcefully.  "How did you get here?"

 

Jesse's face was blank.

 

"You were taken by the FBI somewhere," Max prompted, reiterating the facts he had been told by his mother.  "Now think...how did you get back here."

 

Jesse pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, shaking his head.  He began to rock himself back and forth, humming eerily.  "I was dying...I was going to die..." he mumbled frantically.  "I was going to die and I saw Isabel...but it was only a mirage...only a mirage."

 

Liz looked worriedly at Max.  This was getting them nowhere.  Jesse seemed to be in shock and nothing was jogging his memory.

 

"Jesse," Max called his name with authority.  "Listen to me.  Isabel is probably in danger.  We need to know what happened to them!"

 

"I was trying to save her.  Keep her safe..."  The ramblings were beginning to become more coherent, yet they still didn't tell Liz or Max what happened.

 

"Jesse," Liz said softly, resting her hands on Jesse's arm, coaxing them away from his face.  "We know you love Isabel.  Do you think you can help her right now?"

 

Unexpectedly, Jesse stopped his rocking and looked up at both her and Max, as if seeing them for the first time.  "You guys...when did you....when did you get here?" he gasped, pulling on Liz's arm.  This made her fall forward onto her hands.

 

"Jesse," Max grimaced; his patience had worn thin.  "Do you know how you got here?"

 

Isabel's husband paused a moment, trying to pull himself up to his feet.  He leaned against a nearby dresser, to steady his balance.  "I think...I think Isabel found me," he stammered, as if trying to see through a hazy curtain.  "I was in the middle of the desert and I thought I was going to die...I kept seeing Isabel, but everytime it was a mirage.  She vanished whenever I got near to her."

 

"How did you get to the desert?" Liz asked curiously.  "Is that where they took you?"

 

Jesse furrowed his brow again, rubbing his temple.  "No, the agents took me to this warehouse," he recalled slowly.  "And they told me that they were NSA, not FBI."

 

"How did you get away?"

 

Jesse shrugged.  "I don't know.  They stuck me with some needle, which I just thought was sodium____.  I thought they were going to use that to get me to tell them everything."  He shook his head warily.  "But I must have been wrong, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the hot sun.  I thought I had escaped, but I couldn't remember how."

 

"But that wasn't what happened?"

 

Jesse sat down on the edge of Isabel's bed.  "I don't know.  Don't ask me, because I don't know," he breathed, his expression dumbfounded.  "But the last thing I remember is seeing a car driving towards me and Isabel getting out."

 

"But what about happened tonight?" Max bellowed.  "What happened to Isabel, Kyle, and Maria?"

 

Liz watched Max throw his hands up in the air in frustration.  "Max," she said soothingly.  "Jesse's been through a lot.  You have to give him a little space."  She glanced at the last member in the elite group of  people who knew about what Isabel, Max, Michael, and Tess were.  He hadn't taken the news as well as the rest of them had.  In fact, she would have never guessed that Jesse would turn information in on the Four to the Feds, but he had.  This brought little sympathy from most of the group, but she could see that Jesse loved Isabel and he was trying his best to help them.

 

"Well it's not the time to have amnesia!" Max growled.  "Isabel, Kyle and Maria are out there somewhere and I get the feeling that this has nothing to do with the FBI or the NSA."

 

Liz frowned.  "What are you talking about?"

 

"Even with a small army, there is no way that the Feds or the NSA could have taken Isabel, Kyle, and Maria down that easily," Max breathed irritably.  "So that means something else is going on.  And I have this gut feeling that is saying that this has to do with Michael and Tess' return to Antar."

 

Liz scratched her head unconsciously and began to pace back and forth.  "Well can you contact them or anything?" she suggested, thinking back to the new found abilities Max seemed to have acquired.  It didn't seem much of a stretch.

 

Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing his body.  Liz watched as he squeezed his eyes tight and the expression on his face begin to intensify.  There was a long silence in the room.  She glanced anxiously at Jesse whose gaze remained fixed on Max.  While she waited for Max to come out of his trance, she continued to pace back and forth, wringing her hands nervously.

 

Liz didn't know why she felt so helpless.  She had received some of Max's powers, even managing to become adept at manipulating atoms and molecules.  Though she had never tried to contact anyone, Liz felt confident that she had that ability too.  But she was hesitant to use them with Max right there.  Liz felt liket there was still a reason she had those powers - she just had to figure out what it was.

 

~~~

 

Kyle cautiously surveyed his surroundings as he sat, bound in the dark van.  Isabel was a few feet away, he could make out her long svelt figure in the shadows, lying unconscious.  Maria was also awake, though, sitting awkwardly in the opposite corner of the van from where he was.  She looked terrified.

 

The whole attack had been unexpected and frightening.  Men in strange military uniforms entered the house while he, Isabel, and Maria sat in the kitchen.  They seemed to know exactly where everyone was, and took Isabel without the slightest struggle.  The men seemed to have identified her as the major threat to their operation.  But what they didn't expect was Maria's feisty attitude and her quick thinking.  She grabbed whatever was near at hand, and whipped the hard objects at the soldiers.  Maria even managed to tag one of them with a glass plate before being subdued.  It would have been amusing if it wasn't so frightening.

 

Kyle had tried to protect Isabel and Maria by throw kitchen chairs on the ground, putting obstacles in their path so the girls could possibly escape, which failed miserably.  The kidnappers were organized and quick; it was almost like they were not human.  After the men had them tied and bound, leading them out to the sleek black van, an unexpected event raised the stakes in the whole matter.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Evans' had returned home at the most inconvenient time.  The kidnappers seemed in disarray when they came bounding down the driveway, yelling at the men to stop.  Kyle would have told them to run if the kidnappers hadn't duct taped his mouth.  All he could do was watch as two kidnappers pulled out  strange looking devices that emitted two separate bursts of light, each hitting its intended victim and knocking the Evans' unconsicous.

 

Kyle looked down at his feet where Mr. and Mrs. Evans lay, unwittingly witnessing the handiwork of the American covert agencies at their best.  The only thing that brought him some relief was that Liz had run off earlier, and that she wasn't in the van with him.  If his gut instinct about the kidnappers were right, these men or their leader, whoever was in charge, were planning on leaving no witnesses.  The kidnappers had worn no masks or any type of accessory that would disguise their faces.  Usually, as he had learned from his father and watching too many kidnapping movies, if the criminals had any intention of letting their hostages go they would have disguised themselves, so they would be unidentifiable - this wasn't the case here.

 

Suddenly the van stopped moving.  It felt like they had been driving forever, and Kyle had no idea which direction the armed soldiers had gone.  The three armed men, who remained in the back of the van with them, began talking amongst themselves.  Kyle couldn't make out everything they were saying, but he caught words and short phrases like, 'The General', 'separate them', and 'expendable'.  Each word or phrase added to his growing fear of dying once he stepped out of that dark van.

 

Meanwhile the other two soldiers unlocked the back doors, allowing the stark contrast of night to stream into the van.  Suddenly Kyle was jerked to his feet and dragged out of the van, along with Maria, and the other three unconscious hostages.  When his feet hit the ground, his knees buckled and he fell flat on his face.  He expected asphalt when he kissed the ground, but found himself with a mouthful of sand.

 

"Get up," one of the soldiers ordered, as Kyle felt the thick, steel-toed boot dig into his side.

 

Kyle groaned as he pulled himself into a kneeling position.  What he saw not only stunned him, it brought him to a new and unexpected level of fear and horror.  Before his eyes were hundreds of canvas tents, stretching as far as they eye could see.  Under the dim torchlight, which encompassed the army's headquarters, Kyle watched in awe as 10 to 12 units of uniformed soldiers went through intricate exercises with their commanding officer standing in front of them bellowing out orders.

 

He turned to find Maria, who was being dragged to her feet and led over to where Kyle stood.  When her eyes met his, he could see the wonder and utter despair that had clouded those usually bright and spirited blue spheres.  But his attention was turned away from Maria and the mass collective of armed soldiers when the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Evans' were tossed at his feet.

 

"Take these to the iron cells," said a new soldier on the scene.  He was average height, Hispanic, as were several of the other soldiers who kidnapped them, and wearing the same grey and black uniforms as the army of men he had been observing.  But it was obvious to Kyle that he held a higher ranking than the men who had taken them.  "But this one," he pointed to an unconscious Isabel, "take her to the isolation chamber."

 

Kyle struggled under the obedient soldiers' grip.  He tried to free himself, but it only seemed to irritate the soldier, who shoved him forcefully toward a canvas tent, which was identical to the hundreds behind him.  Isabel, on the other hand, was lifted by two soldiers and carried toward a bluish-grey dome.  Kyle strained his neck to see what they were planning on doing to her, but she silently disappeared into the eerie and intimidating metal building, about a hundred paces away.

 

And that was the last Kyle saw of Isabel.

 

~~~

 

Michael felt his one knee graze the cool grey floor, as he pressed upward, grasping the smooth wooden bow firmly in each hand.  The tall, muscular soldier whom he had chosen as his sparring partner smirked as he bore down the brunt of his weight on Michael.  Michael narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth.  Cocky.  With one swift movement, Michael twisted his upper body, allowing his opponent's bow to come crashing down with a 'crack', as it hit the granite floor.  While his opponent was recovering from his own attack, Michael followed through with his bow and brought it forcefully behind the crease of his opponent's knees, taking the soldier's feet from underneath him.  And with one quick twist he brought the end of his bow to his opponent's throat, signalling the end of the sparring match.

 

There was a round of applause by the surrounding soldiers. 

 

Michael looked up to see that the men who had been sparring around him had stopped their matches and were watching him intently.  He swallowed uneasily, as he wiped the sweat that had formed upon his brow with the back of his hand.  The soldier whom he had been sparring with had risen to his feet and bowed respectfully to his opponent.  Michael did the same, bowing to his opponent and then walking over to him and grasping his hand in a firm shake.  "Good match," he huffed, trying to catch his breath.  "You almost caught me there."

 

The soldier smiled wryly.  "I would have too, if I hadn't..."

 

"If you hadn't been overconfident, Captain Babich," finished General Steren, who had quietly came up behind them.

 

"Well, I'm surprised I got out of that one," Michael admitted.  "I've never sparred in my life...and to pick up a bow and do those things...well, let's just say I'm amazed that I was able to keep it in my hands."  Captain Babich seemed disturbed by this remark, but General Steren just nodded knowingly. 

 

"Though you haven't trained this body to respond physically to those attacks, Rath's stimulated memory response came into effect tonight," General Steren explained.  "But that doesn't mean that you can rely on this.  You must continue to train and hone your skills.  We've seen shades of your former self tonight, but I've seen traces of untapped potential."

 

Michael smiled faintly and nodded.  "I kind of like it," he breathed heavily.  "It's an adrenaline rush."  He could hardly contain the rush of excitement that filled his veins.  His mind was running overtime, picturing every move and its counterpart.  Michael didn't know how he could have possibly done without it all these years on Earth.

 

"Well, if that's true," Cpt. Babich groaned, pointing irritably at Michael.  "Then I definitely want a rematch.  I can't believe that was someone 'without' years of practice."  He chuckled and shook his head.

 

Michael smiled wryly at the challenge.  But then, General Steren motioned with a tilt of his head for the tired captain to exit stage left.  As he watched the well trained soldier jog towards 'the showers', he looked curiously at the General.  "Is there a reason you're here?"  Michael thought the General would have more important things to do than to watch him spar.

 

"Fadilia will see you now."

 

Michael stopped mid-stride.  "The Queen wants to see me?" he asked, startled by the news.  "But it's late, maybe she wants to do this tomorrow, when she's not so tired?"  His pulse had slowed since the sparring match, but now it leaped again, as his anxiety level rose.

 

General Steren shook his head.  "No," he said demurely.  "She will see you tonight."

 

"Uh, great!" Michael muttered.  He couldn't think of what there was to say to the Queen.  General Steren walked him to the showers, seemingly unfazed by Michael's reluctance to hold a private meeting with the Queen.

 

"Queen Ava has already had a private audience with Queen Fadilia, and now she would like to see you."

 

Michael glanced briefly at the General.  He nodded.  "I'll be ready."

 

~~~

 

Fadilia had debated whether she should wait to speak with Rath...Michael, but in the end, she felt the need to gauge where he stood in the whole scheme of things.  Tess was completely committed to the rebellion against Khivar and returning Kedra to its place on the throne, but there was a part of her that doubted the viability of the Prophecy.  She let what was seen cloud her judgment, and was unwilling to believe there were many unseen things at work for the good of Antar.

 

"Queen Fadilia?"

 

Fadilia was startled from her musings and confronted by the rugged image of a young commander of the Royal army.  He was dressed down, wearing a loose black tunic and a pair of fitted black pants.  Michael looked very striking.

 

"Come in," she smiled, clasping her hands together.  Michael seemed awkward in her presence - it had been the same with Av...Tess.  She found it amusing.  They were sweet children to think of her in such a reverent way.  "I hope they have made you comfortable since your arrival.  I know the workings of the underground tunnels can be overwhelming."

 

Michael nodded and smiled faintly.  "Uh, yeah.  They've been nice."  His tone betrayed his unease at the situation.

 

"Perhaps you'd like to sit down?" Fadilia suggested, gesturing to the various seats in the living area. 

 

"Okay."  He walked stiffly towards a tan chaise with two large cushions that would conform easily to an individual's body form, and sat down.

 

"You seem uncomfortable around me," she said slowly, not wanting to make him feel guilty for the reasonable response.  "I had hoped that we would be able to overcome that feeling in you."

 

"I...I...I guess I'm just not used to being around royalty."  His eyes darted around the room, unable to meet her gaze.

 

"I would hazard a guess that you did not behave this way when in the presence of my son or daughter."  Fadilia looked at him coyly.  "If it would make you more comfortable, you could call me Fadilia?  I've already told Tess this," she offered.  Michael seemed surprised at what she said and looked curiously at her.

 

"Tess?"

 

Fadilia tilted her head and frowned.  "Yes...Tess.  Isn't that what she prefers to be called?  I asked her...did I get the name wrong?"

 

Michael shook her head.  "Uh, no," he replied.  "I just didn't think we'd be using the names we had on Earth...well, here."

 

Fadilia sighed contently.  "Well, I thought about it during the celebration, as I explained to Tess, and I thought it would be appropriate to use your given names.  Though you are 'Rath' in some sense, I believe that you are not 'exactly' the same person; and we need to distinguish this for our people," she explained thoughtfully.  "I've already informed those who dwell within the mountain, and told General Steren to inform the army."  She paused, tapping her index finger lightly against her lips.  "That is all right with you, is it not?"

 

Michael seemed stunned at the news.  He blinked several times before responding to her question.  "Th..that's great.  I just hope that's not confusing for everyone," he said hesitantly.  "Because if it is, then..."

 

"Then it is settled," Fadilia interrupted.

 

Michael nodded.

 

"Well then, I hope formality is out of the way?" she smiled, sliding into a wicker-like chair, beside Michael.

 

"Uh sure," he stammered.  "Is that all you wanted to speak to me about?"  He looked hopefully at her.

 

Fadilia tilted her head slightly, studying Michael's chiseled face.  He was very different from Rath.  His demeanor was less intimidating, and he seemed to have softened during his life on Earth.  But still, behind the nervous boy-like behavior he was presenting, there lurked a brooding heart, unable to express his feelings.

 

"Could you tell me about my daughter, Vilandra...or what is it she goes by now?"

 

Michael seemed taken aback at the request.  He cleared his throat and shifted uneasily in his seat.  "Uh, Isabel.  She goes by Isabel now," he said uneasily.  Michael's behavior changed with the mention of her daughter.  His gaze became distant and his look, far away.  "What do you want to know about her?" Michael coughed.

 

Fadilia bit her bottom lip and entwined her fingers together and rested them upon her lap.  "Tell me what she's like now.  What does she like to do?  Is she happy?"  It hurt her deeply that she could not answer any of these questions.  The most mundaine details of her daughter's daily routine - what she liked to eat, what her favorite color is - things a mother should know.

 

Michael sat back in his chair and seemed to think deeply about the questions she posed for him.  "She's as stubborn and willful as she used to be," he chuckled.  "But I think we've lost a little bit of our edginess since we lived on Antar."  He looked at Fadilia, this time, directly in the eye.  "She is beautiful; she hasn't lost a bit of that sparkle that draws men to her.  In fact, I don't think she's been more beautiful than she is now," he said wistfully.

 

"And why has she stayed on Earth?" she asked curiously.  Fadilia knew the answer from the reports she had received from General Steren, but those had been partial reports.  She wanted to know where or if Michael fit into this equation at all.  From the way he described her daughter, he was definitely in love with her.

 

"She's married," Michael said mournfully.  "And she doesn't remember like Tess and I do."  His eyes turned towards the portal which had been dug out from the side of the mountain.  It looked out towards the far mountain range, where the ships would enter and dock.

 

"Married to a human?" Fadilia asked gently.

 

"Yes.  His name is Jesse," he said stiffly.  "But I'm not sure whether she's with him anymore."

 

Fadilia furrowed her brow.  "Why do you say that?"

 

"Well, before we left, Isabel was deciding whether she was going to stay with Jesse after he lied to all of us...and especially to her."  His tone was full of disdain and resentment.  "He told the government about us, and gave them information about us that put us in danger," he explained.  "And so Isabel went away for a few days with Max to sort things out."

 

"And do you think she'll forgive this...this Jesse?"  Fadilia was disturbed that her daughter would pick such a man for her betrothed, but in some way, it did not surprise her.  She had only to think of Khivar to realize her daughter's recklessness when it came to men.

 

Michael stared blankly at her.  "I honestly don't know," he groaned.  "I was supposed to see her when she came back, but obviously that never happened."  He gestured to his presence in her chamber.

 

"Why is it that you never..."  Fadilia paused, uncertain whether this was her place to ask such an intimate question.  Then she decided to change tactics, instead asking, "Were the two of you close?"

 

Michael had seemed to sense the direction of her previous question and tensed, but when she changed her question, his body relaxed once more - able to answer her question.

 

"We were very close," he said reflectively.

 

"You love her?" Fadilia asked tentatively.  She knew his answer would leave him vulnerable; and it required trust on his part to reveal his true feelings for her daughter to her.  In the past, Rath had confided in her about his feelings about Vilandra; he had always kept a tight lock on his feelings for her daughter, but he felt that he could trust Fadilia with the truth.  She had always felt like a mother to him; it was so even now.

 

Michael ran his fingers through his hair, as if debating whether his feelings should be voiced or not.  Finally, he lifted his dark brooding eyes to meet her gaze and let out a pensive sigh.  "Yes," he blurted out.  "I love her, but I was too stupid to see that until it was too late."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I fooled myself into believing I was in love with another girl, and by the time I realized what 'real' love was, it was too late.  She was already in love with Jesse and married to the guy," he sighed in frustration.  Michael pushed himself up from his seat and walked over to the scenic portal.  "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to say that out loud."

 

She understood where he was coming from.  Even in their mountain base there seemed to be a little melodrama amongst the young.  But all was in the hands of the Creator.  She always had to remind their people of that.

 

"Trust that the 'One has a plan, and it is being worked out," Fadilia said reassuringly.  "The Prophecy says the Four will return, and I believe my son and daughter will return to us."

 

Michael's loud mournful sigh voiced his doubt at the possibility.  His heart was worn on his sleeve at the moment, but soon it would be tucked away, inaccessible to those beyond her door.  Fadilia closed her eyes tiredly.  His bittersweet revelation touched her heart.  This man who stood before her was like another son, and to watch him go through so much pain because of the folly of her architects and of herself, it was almost too much to bear.  Her thoughts turned to prayer; and the knowledge that such true love as Michael had for Isabel and Tess, for Max, made her heart ache.  It hadn't been easy for these children to find each other the first time - Zan had been blessed to realize his love for Ava so quickly, but it was not the case for Rath and Vilandra.

 

Rath had mistakenly left his love for Vilandra unsaid, believing his request for her hand was declaration enough.  Fadilia couldn't remember how many times she had urged him to express what he truly felt for her in words, but he had been reluctant and it had been his downfall.  Vilandra, on the other hand, had been unwilling to believe Rath's marriage proposal was anything more than a duty as right-hand man to the King.  Neither would speak what each felt in their hearts.  And it led Vilandra into Khivar's tangled web of deceit.

 

Now their second chance was marred by the interference of others.  The 'One' certainly was putting the Royal Four through trials of fire and torment.  Fadilia sighed.  Would they be forged under the scorching flames?  Or would her children allow the trials to separate them from those they need most?

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