The Last Beltane Night

Inside of Ciara's heady, dream-palace, she lingered on for the past. Her homeland, no longer free and unspoiled, was encased in ice long ago by the machinations of an industrial race.  A settlement of the Cro-Magnon Milesians, that stalky abomination historians now call prehistoric man, marched north into the icy terrain from valley of Gibraltar. Before the Milesian invasion, and long before the ice shifted south, Ciara fondly recalled the Beltane fires. Communal fires lit up the underside of the treetops. Neighboring tribes of Sidhe held a festival honoring the fertility of the land and of her people.

The night before the festival, an envoy arrived from Murias, in one of the islands to the north. The envoy brought forth explorers and delegates from the house of Tuath. A representative of Murias met with the Sidhe elders and delegates. The time had come for an alliance between the two races. At least that is what the Sidhe believed. The elders appointed Ciara as the Murian's surrogate. She had reservations about the people to the north. Sidon emerged from his ship, and onto the dock dressed in a fine winter coat, with several guards.

Onhis arrival, Sidon was met by a tall, lean woman with shaggy, unkempt hair. He hadn't thought much of her, instead mistaking her for an underling working for the Sidhe council.Sidon was pleasantly surprised to learn that she was his contact. Long hours together Ciara and Sidon spent, briefing one another on matters of civility, art, law, religion, politics, and war. Growing increasingly fond of Ciara, Sidon decided to stay for the Beltane festival.

As men and women danced around a communal fire, Sidon and Ciara broke formation and retreated far from the campfire light. In the darkness, and before the presence of Eiru, the lady of the Earth, Ciara and Sidon made a vow. With their palms touching, bowed their heads to one another. In the silence, they commited themselves to an old and arcane testament of the love they shared for one another.  The following morning, Ciara woke to a very different world.

An eerie silence burned her ears. She rose to find many of her people slaughtered around the communal fire. She couldn't believe her eyes. She traced the bloodshed to her people's palace. A shining white city on a hill smouldered with the burning stench of deception. Ciara found no guards posted at the front gate, and slowly walked into the palace. As she came nearer, found others also broken and without homes.

A couple of guards found Ciara peering around a corner. They grabbed her arms and hauled her into the council chambers. At Sidon's order, they released her, throwing her to the ground in front of him. Sidon helped her up, and she pushes him away.

“You did this?” Ciara burned to strike him down with all of her might. She reached for her sword. He put himself directly in her path.

“Stay with me,”he asked.
“Mend these people's wounds. Give my dead a proper burial.” Ciara demanded, “and then I'll think about it.”
“I won't. They're prisoners of war. I am sorry about the invasion.”
“Slaves. And what am I? Sorry? Your men murdered people that we danced with only last night.”
“No. You and I made a vow, and I intend to keep it. You should be treated like a queen. And now you are one.”
“I'll never be your queen. At best your whore.”
“That's not true.”
“Murias is very happy that you've been so successful here. You might love me but they don't. To your own countrymen we are all savages. They'll never see you with one of us.”
“Please stay with me.”
“I don't have a choice do I?”
“Of course you do.”

Over time, Sidon spent less time in the public with Ciara. Other envoys came from Murias and other Tuathan cities with bridal offerings for Sidon.

“Sir, the house of Tuath is enraged to see you cohorting with this wild-woman,” the delegate spoke to Sidon. Before Sidon  could issue a statement, Ciara had held the delegate down with one hand, and raised her sword with the other.

“Ciara, let him go!”

She remained in the palace, and watched as Sidon turned it into a clone of the cities in the north. Debauchery on the streets. More of the Tuathans travelled south to Eiru. The natives who survived the invasion were forced to live in the villages outside of the city. Ciara spent much of her time with her people in the Sidhe villages. Ciara took up painting – a social commentary on the skewed treatment of the sidhe tribes by the Tuathan empire. Often they crossed paths in the public square, but said nothing to one another. For a while they both shared his bed, but their closeness grew infrequent as the envoys sent him bridal offerings.

Soon after, Ciara left the city, and retreated to the Sidhe villages. Sidon began sending his priests into the villages, to deliver messages on his behalf to Ciara. She refused them. A long silence from lips which beg forgiveness but never convey it. The pain burned her heart like a thousand knives stabbing , each one duller than the last. No longer would they have Beltane night.