Marguerite was instantly aware that someone was watching her. She tensed and turned slowly, her eyes falling upon...Phillip. Her son. She started, and then breathed a sigh of relief. "Phillip, you startled me."
Phillip did not return her smile, and merely glared at her coldly in return. "Mother."
Once again, she was pained by the hatred that she felt radiating from him. He had always been his father’s son, but he had used to hold a place in his heart for his mother, as well. That had been before he had seen what he had seen, and now any affection he had felt toward her seemed to have vanished. Now, as he glowered at her, he so strongly resembled Warren that it was almost frightening, except...Warren had never looked at her like that before.
"Phillip, we need to talk." Marguerite began, but Phillip held up his hand, cutting her off sharply.
"I really don't think there’s anything to discuss." he said, voice hard and chilly, then turned and strode away with rapid steps, as though he couldn't wait to get out of her presence.
Marguerite stirred and awakened, tears gathering in her eyes at the forlornness that she had felt in her vision. She could still feel Phillip’s wrath and anger kindling against her. He hated her. Enough to betray the entire kingdom just to get retribution for whatever she had done.
Tiredly, she rose and slipped her bare feet into some warm, fuzzy slippers. She had to talk to Warren. There were some question she needed to ask.
His bedroom was in one right next to her own. He had subtly suggested that they stay together the night before, but she had carefully declined. She wasn't ready for that. Truth be told, she wasn't sure that she ever would be. Still, it was kind of nice to know that he was nearby, though that sentiment had more to do with the unease at being back in Spheria again than it did with being a romantic feeling. She found it hard to believe that she would ever think romantically of Warren...at least, not the same way that she had felt about Rox--
No. She had promised herself that she would never think of that name again. She pushed Roxton from her thoughts and instead concentrated on Warren, who was soundly asleep in bed. She crept up beside him and gently shook his shoulder. "Warren."
He awoke with a start but immediately relaxed when he realized that it was her. He smiled good-naturedly. "You really have to stop doing that to me."
Marguerite smiled in return. "Ruin my fun, why don't you?" She hesitated, pulling at the loose strands on his quilt. "I had another dream. About Phillip." She paused, fighting back the hurt that welled inside. "Why did he hate me so much?"
Warren sat up a bit, propping himself up on his elbows. "Well, I suppose that he must have gradually turned away from you--"
Marguerite shook her head. "No. He used to love me-- of that I'm certain. But something he saw upset him, turned him against me." She frowned, struggling to remember, but it was as though there was a haze over her mind. "Do you have any idea of what it was?"
Warren paused and chewed thoughtfully on his lip, then sighed and shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, Marguerite."
Marguerite nodded. She had expected as much. Still, it was hard to imagine what she could have done that would alienate her from her own son. She looked up to bid goodnight to Warren and noticed that his eyes were trained on her nightgown. She had forgotten how flimsy and transparent it was. Hastily, she rose to her feet. "Yes, well...goodnight."
Warren caught her hand. "Marguerite, wait. You don't have to leave so quickly."
Marguerite withdrew her hand from his own. "Now, Warren, what kind of a man are you? Trying to keep a woman from her beauty sleep? You should know better."
"A man who misses his wife." Warren informed her. "Marguerite, please...I've been waiting for seven hundred years."
Marguerite smiled sweetly at him. "Then surely one more night won't matter." She retreated back toward her own room. "Good night, Warren."
Roxton reached out and grabbed Summerlee’s elbow, preventing the older man from falling. "Are you all right?"
Summerlee nodded and pushed up his spectacles a bit. "Yes, I'm fine." He blinked his eyes and shook his head. "We must be getting closer. I can remember being Marguerite’s father...her birth, her childhood...she was quite the rambuncious youth."
Roxton smiled at this. "That doesn't come as much of a surprise, now does it?"
" No, not really." Summerlee swallowed and looked at Roxton apologetically. "I'm sorry, Roxton." Seeing the confusion in the younger man’s face, he explained, "It was I who arranged for Warren and Marguerite to be married."
Odd, how all of their former lives seemed to be coming back to haunt them. Roxton shook his head and clapped Summerlee on the back. "It’s all right, Summerlee. You were just looking out for Marguerite’s best interest, just as you always have."
Summerlee smiled. "I guess that not all emotions were lost over the years, were they?"
"No," Roxton said seriously, remembering how the emotions he had felt for Marguerite seven hundred years before nearly mirrored his own now, "not all of them."
If he was too late and he had lost Marguerite forever because of his stupidity...he would never forgive himself. Never.
They rounded the bend, and suddenly, he was greeted by the sight of a large stone wall. The memories came flooding back to him, now. Celebrations that had lasted long into the night. Fierce battles in which he had relentlessly defended Marguerite-- his queen-- with his life. He could tell that the place was having the same effect on the others. They all stood silently for a moment, lost in their memories.
Roxton cleared his throat and started forward. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. The others fell in behind him, silent now as they began to fully comprehend the lives they had once lived.
As they stepped through the gates, the people in the village stopped and faced them. The air was silent, tense for one drawn out moment, and then exultant cries filled the air. The villagers gathered around the five travellers and began to touch them in awe and wonder, as if they really couldn't believe that they were there.
"Well," Roxton said, a wry smile on his face, "this is what I call a homecoming." He turned to scan the crowds, but there was no sign of Marguerite. He realized that she was probably in the castle, and he knew that she probably wouldn't be happy to see him, but he had to find her.
"Welcome back, Sir Roxton." one of the peasants said. "We've missed your presence here in Spheria."
The others, similarly, were receiving such calls. Roxton turned to the peasant who had addressed him. "Um...thank you. Now, could someone please take us to Marg...uh, to the queen?"
"Of course." the peasant returned. "I'll lead the way."
Wordlessly, the five explorers made their way through the crowd and followed after him.
Marguerite carefully admired the crystal vase that had been flawlessly preserved for over a thousand years. It was beautifully crafted, and it had been a good while since she had seen anything so exquisite.
"Careful with that, my dear." Warren cautioned her with a smile on his face. "That vase is almost as valuable as you are."
Marguerite raised an exaggeratedly indignant eyebrow. "Pardon me?"
Warren grinned. "I said almost."
Marguerite returned the smile and started to replace the vase on the mantle. "Yes, well...you'd be hard pressed to get me to argue that valuable artifacts aren't more important than human lives."
"Yes, you certainly would." Roxton agreed softly from the doorway.
Marguerite stared at him in shock; without thinking, her fingers slipped and the vase careened from her hands and crashed to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.
Instinctively, she fell to the ground and began to try to gather up the shards. "Clumsy me. You know how slippery crystal can be."
Warren pulled at her arm. "Dearest, don't worry about it. Someone else will take care of it."
Embarrassed by her obvious discomfort, Marguerite rose hurriedly to her feet."Right. Because I'm the queen. Queen Marguerite."
Roxton crossed the room over to her. "Marguerite, we need to talk--"
With one swift motion, Marguerite slapped him across the face. Hard. Malone looked at the older man incredulously. "What is that now, Roxton? Three times in two days?"
Roxton looked at Marguerite in surprise, though he couldn't really blame her for her reaction. "Well, I suppose I deserved that."
"That and much more." Marguerite said, glaring at him. "I have to admit, Roxton-- I never thought I'd see you again." She glared at Veronica. "I was sure you'd be too busy with your little blonde tramp to even notice I was gone."
Veronica took a step toward her. "Marguerite, please listen to us--"
Marguerite reared back and decked the younger woman with full force. Veronica tumbled backward, careening into Malone, who managed to catch her arm and steady her. Veronica could taste the blood on her tongue and looked up at Marguerite in shock.
"Anyone else want to try their luck?" Marguerite snapped, her voice challenging anyone to do just that.
"Marguerite, please," Summerlee spoke up, his voice pleading, "let them talk to you."
Marguerite hesitated, torn by her pride and her love for this kind, sweet man. Summerlee won. "Fine. Would you all give us a moment?"
Summerlee, Challenger, and Malone obediently exited, and Warren lingered long enough to inform Marguerite, "I'll be right outside if you need me."
Roxton waited until Warren had left and then turned to Veronica. "I'd like to talk to Marguerite alone for a moment, if you don't mind."
"I'm not sure that’s such a good idea, Roxton." Veronica said. But, seeing the determination in his eyes, she sighed and turned to exit. " Call me if you need backup." she said, only half-joking. She paused at the doorway and swallowed. "I'm sorry, Marguerite."
"Spare me." Marguerite returned coldly. She waited until the door was shut and then turned her wrath upon Roxton. "So...when is the wedding date set for? I trust that I'll receive an invitation..."
"Marguerite," Roxton began, advancing toward her. She backed away from him. "Would you please listen to me?"
Marguerite folded her arms. "Talk all you want, Roxton. I'm listening. But don't expect me to make you feel better about betraying me."
"You're right, Marguerite," Roxton informed her, meaning every word, "and I'm sorry for hurting you. I can only imagine what you must have been feeling--"
Marguerite was absolutely livid. "You have no idea how I felt, Roxton. To see you all tangled up in that...jungle trash! I trusted you! I loved--" She stopped, battling back the tears of fury and pain that stung her eyes. "Well, I'll never make that mistake again."
Roxton furrowed his brow. "What--trusting me or loving me?"
"Either, or." Marguerite said with a shrug. "Take your pick." She tossed her head defiantly. "Well, at least you weren't the only one who had a little fun."
She wanted to hurt him, bad-- as badly as he had hurt her. She wanted to witness the look on his face as his heart shattered into a million pieces, just as the vase had done only moments before. Just as her heart had done when she had seen Roxton kissing Veronica.
Roxton paled and stared at her. "What do you mean?" He swallowed heavily, dreading the inevitable question that he needed to ask. "Did he...did you sleep with him?"
Marguerite met his gaze coldly. "Yes." she lied. And she got what she wanted. Roxton looked physically ill. His eyes were filled with anguish...and tears. It was something that she should have relished. But she didn't feel good. She felt horrible. And suddenly, Marguerite wanted nothing more than to take it all back.
Roxton’s eyes clouded over. He looked beyond furious, like he was going to hit someone. She half expected him to hit her, and a part of her wouldn't have blamed him for it. Instead, he overturned a nearby table, sending its contents crashing to the floor. Marguerite flinched and watched as Roxton proceeded to overturn anything and everything that he could in the room. Outraged cries escaped from him, sounding like the wild screams of a mad man. There was a lok in his eyes that could have shaken even the bravest of men.
Marguerite stared at him in shock; she certainly hadn't expected this. Anger she could handle. Sorrow she could handle. But this senseless, chaotic destruction...this blind fury that had taken over him...it frightened her beyond what she had ever imagined. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of Roxton.
"Stop it, Roxton!" she pleaded, grabbing his arm in an attempt to restrain him. "Stop it!"
Roxton’s chest was heaving and he was obviously still upset. But the blind anger that had overcome him had passed, and now he radiated anguish as he inquired, "How could you?"
There were tears streaming down Marguerite’s face. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." It wasn't like her to just apologize like this, but she was willing to do anything to take that agony away from him. "I was lying, John. I swear. I just wanted to hurt you like you hurt me..."
And now there were tears on his own hard, tan face as well. He pulled Marguerite to him and crushed his lips against her own, fiercely, passionately, combining all of his angst and love and pain into one beautiful, powerful kiss. Marguerite responded to him immediately, her hands running wildly through his short, dark hair. His hands were like steel against her body, and she felt herself shivering despite the sudden heat of the room.
And suddenly, though she struggled with all of her might to stay where she was, she felt her mind slipping once again to seven hundred years before. She and Roxton were sharing a similar kiss of the same passion and intensity.
To her horror, she saw Phillip standing in the doorway of the stables. His eyes widened as he saw them, and in that instant, she saw his whole world shatter. Marguerite pulled back in surprise, and her eyes filled with horror.
"Phillip, wait!" she called. But he didn't stop-- he turned and ran, but not before she saw the look in his eyes.
Complete and utter hatred.
She was back in the present again, still tangled in Roxton, and with great effort, she managed to pull away from him. "We've done this before."
Roxton’s eyes widened. "You saw us together in the stables?"
Marguerite looked at him grimly. "I wasn't the only one. Phillip walked in on us. That was why he hated me. That was why he wanted to destroy me."
Roxton looked at her with compassion, feeling her grief for the son she had lost so long before. "I'm sorry, Marguerite."
Marguerite looked up at him and shook her head. "I'm not. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, John Roxton-- then and now." Her lips were still sore from the first kiss and would probably be swollen in the morning, but she found herself longing for his lips to be upon hers once more. As if he could hear her thoughts, Roxton slowly lowered his mouth on top of hers. They were lost in each other for one long, blissful moment.
Until they heard the click of the gun.
"Well, well, well." a voice sneered from across the room. "It looks as though some things never change-- even after seven hundred years."
Marguerite looked up and her eyes widened in terror. "Phillip?"
"What?" Phillip said with a mocking grin. "You didn't think you were the only one who could reincarnate themselves, did you?"
Roxton started toward him, and Phillip fired off a shot. The bullet grazed over the top of his skull, not low enough to draw blood, but close enough to knock him out with its force. Marguerite screamed as he slumped to the ground. "Roxton!"
Phillip grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her to him, pressing the gun to the small of her back. "Now don't do anything stupid. I'd hate to have to shoot you before I kill you."
Marguerite stared, panicked at the sight of Roxton’s motionless form. "Is he...dead?"
"Don't worry," Phillip snapped, pushing her toward the back door, "your man-slut is still alive...for now. I'll come back for him later. But it’s you I want to kill now. And this time, I won't fail."
Warren leaned up against the wall next to Veronica, giving her a tired smile. "They've been in there an awfully long time." he noted.
"Yes, they have." Veronica agreed. Judging by the racket that had gone on earlier, they were either killing each other or were having one heck of a makeup scene. Warren had wanted to go in there to see what was going on when the crashing began, but Veronica had intervened. Either way, they weren't going to want anyone to interrupt.
Warren nodded, preoccupied by his own thoughts for a moment. "It’s good that you and Roxton have found each other again. You always made such a good couple."
If only you knew, Veronica thought wryly.
"Actually, Roxton and I have decided that we're better off as friends." Veronica informed him.
Warren frowned and studied her. "It’s because he’s in love with Marguerite, isn't it?"
"Among other things." Veronica admitted.
Warren shook his head. "If only Roxton would realize that this emotion he thinks he feels is only temporary. It’s completely fake. The sooner he gets that through his head, the better."
Veronica stiffened at the words. This was too much. "Roxton’s feelings aren't temporary, and they certainly aren't fake. They're just as real as yours are, if not more so. And they have been for the last seven hundred years."
Warren looked at her dubiously. "What are you talking about?"
"Marguerite may have had feelings for you, and may still, for all I know. But seven hundred years ago, during your so-called ‘perfect marriage’, she was really in love with Roxton. And there’s little doubt in my mind that she still is." Veronica informed him, voice tight.
Warren looked shocked. "No-- I don't believe you."
"Oh, come on, Warren." Veronica snapped. "Don't you find it just a little strange that Roxton and Marguerite found each other two years ago while you were still on the other side of the globe?"
Warren didn't reply, just stared straight ahead dejectedly.
Veronica felt a wave of pity rush over her. He shouldn't have found out like that. Still, it was good that he finally knew. She was about to offer some words of solace when a loud crack rang through the air. "Was that a gunshot?"
"Marguerite!" Warren cried, attempting to open the door. It wouldn't budge. "Someone’s locked it from the inside!"
"Stand back." Veronica instructed, then sent a solid kick barreling against the door, splintering the wood. She regained her balance and then tried again twice more. The door gave way and Warren rushed inside.
Roxton was slumped in the corner, motionless, and Marguerite was quite noticeably absent. The room was a mess.
"We heard the shots." Malone called, rushing into the room. He stopped and stared in wonder at the scene before him. "Oh my gosh-- she’s killed him!"
"No," Veronica shouted in return from Roxton’s side, "he’s just unconscious. But he’s going to have one nasty bruise come tomorrow."
Warren grabbed Roxton by the collar of his shirt and began to shake him. "Roxton, wake up! Where’s Marguerite?"
Roxton stirred and moaned. "He has her."
Summerlee exchanged a worried glance with Challenger. "Who has her, my boy?"
Warren straightened up a bit, a sunken expression on his face. "Phillip."
When Marguerite next awoke, she was tied to a cold, hard, concrete slab. The ropes that bound her dug painfully into her flesh, but even more disturbing was the sight of Phillip towering above her, blood smeared over his face. She felt a wave of panic wash over her. Was that her blood?
"Phillip," Marguerite moaned, knowing that it was probably useless to try and reason with him but needing to try, anyway, "why? Wasn't one death enough?"
"Obviously not enough for you." Phillip returned, his face livid. " It’s been seven hundred years-- seven hundred years-- and still you run back to that hunting harlot." He shook his head. "Why couldn't you have just stayed with my father? In this life or the last one? I would have left you alone, then. I would have even loved you. But for you to cheat on him...twice!!...for you to scourge his honor in such a manner is simply unforgivable."
"I'm sorry." Marguerite said, and she meant it. She had never intended to hurt Phillip, or anyone for that matter. She had only wanted to be with Roxton. "What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm performing a spell that will forever banish your soul to Hell." Phillip informed her. "And this time, you won't ever be able to come back to make the same mistake."
Marguerite laughed wryly for lack of anything better to do. "Yes, well...I always suspected I'd be going to that great furnace in the sky." A sudden thought struck her. "What about Roxton? What are you going to do to him?"
"The same." Phillip replied, smiling wickedly at her. "That way you two can finally be together forever...an eternity in Hell. It’s fitting, don't you think?"
Marguerite shook her head. "No. Do what you want to me-- Heaven knows, I deserve it-- but leave Roxton out of it. He’s a good person...much better than I am, and--"
Phillip spit on her, hitting her on the forehead. A trail of saliva oozed down one cheek. "You sicken me." he informed her, then raised a glinting dagger above his head. "But not for much longer. This is for you, Father."
With one quick swoop, he swung the dagger downward. Marguerite screamed.
Phillip’s arm was suddenly blocked as a familiar voice quipped, "Not so fast."
Marguerite gave a relieved smile. "Roxton, thank goodness! Took you long enough, don't you think?"
Roxton smiled good-naturedly. "Yes, but I brought the cavalry."
There was a flash of metal and then Veronica was behind Phillip, holding a blade to his throat. "Drop the knife."
Phillip obediently released the dagger. It clattered to the ground, and Marguerite breathed a sigh of relief. "Veronica, I have never been so happy to see you in my life."
Veronica gave her a wry smile. "I guess that means you forgive me?"
"Of course." Marguerite said, feeling rather generous after being saved from death’s grip once again. "Just don't expect me to be so lenient next time."
Veronica rubbed her jaw sorely. "That was lenient? I'd hate to see what happened if you really got angry."
Summerlee rushed over to the table. "Thank goodness you're safe, Marguerite. You had us all worried." He and Challenger and Malone began to unfasten the ropes that bound her to the table.
Roxton tenderly traced the curve of her face. "Are you all right, Marguerite?"
Marguerite reached up and felt the wound on top of his head. "I could ask you the same question, Lord Roxton."
Veronica stiffened and glanced around warily. "Where’s Warren?"
Taking advantage of her confusion, Phillip roughly backhanded her in the face. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground. "Veronica!" Malone cried and rushed over to her.
Phillip pulled another knife that had been concealed in his sleeve and raised it over his head. "Goodbye, Mother." he said coldly, triumphantly, then thrust the blade downward.
There was a sickening thud and Phillip gasped, then looked down to see the tip of a sword that was now protruding through his chest. Blood was already beginning to seep around the wound. He turned slowly, painfully, to face his attacker.
It was Warren.
"Father?" he gasped, eyes filled with dismay and hurt, and then he slumped to the ground, dead.
"Well, are we sure we aren't forgetting anything?" Challenger inquired as the group prepared to depart shortly thereafter.
"Just one thing." Marguerite replied, then stepped forward to kiss Warren on the cheek. "Thank you...for everything."
Warren forced a smile, though it was obvious that it pained him to see her go. "Yes, well...take good care of her, Lord Roxton. If I hear that you've been mistreating her, I'll send the entire Royal Spherian Army after you."
Roxton smiled tightly. "I'll remember that." He still didn't like the guy, and probably never would, but he wasn't that bad. After all, he cared for Marguerite, and that at least showed that he had good taste.
"I'm still not sure I understand." Malone spoke up. "I thought it was Marguerite’s destiny to rule Spheria."
"Wrong." Marguerite informed him. "It was my destiny to bring peace to Spheria. And I am by leaving Warren behind to rule the kingdom." She gave him a mockingly menacing glare. "So you better take good care of it or you'll only wish I had sent the Royal Army after you."
Warren’s smile was genuine this time. "You know, I actually believe that."
The group set off shortly afterward, each eager to return home. They had only gotten so far when Marguerite was suddenly overcome by another vision. They were all standing in a circle-- Warren, Marguerite, Roxton, Veronica, Challenger, and Summerlee-- and were holding hands tightly as near chaos overtook the kingdom outside of the small room they were clustered in.
"Everyone, hold your hands tight and think of the people that you love." Challenger instructed. Across the circle from each other, Marguerite and Roxton locked gazes, even as their respective spouses gripped their hands more tightly. "Through this power of love, may our souls stay connected to those we cherish, so that no matter how many years pass, our spirits may travel together."
Silently, peacefully, Marguerite returned to the present. It all made sense, now. Challenger’s spell had bound them all by love. Since she had loved Summerlee and Challenger as fathers, and they had similarly loved her as a daughter, their souls had been kept together. And Veronica, torn by her love for her husband and her love for Malone, had inadvertently but blissfully kept all three of them together. And since Marguerite and Roxton had loved each other, they had stayed together and the circle of their makeshift family was complete.
Warren was the odd card out, since obviously fate had a different plan in store for him. Marguerite was going to miss him. A part of her would always love Warren, but her destiny lied elsewhere.
Silently, she reached out and took Roxton’s hand, intertwining his fingers with her own. He smiled in return-- she was in his blood, after all, and had been for the last seven hundred years-- and gently pressed his lips to the back of her palm.
The End