The Dark Rose

By darkmagickwillow

Copyright © May 2003

Chapter 25 (Blossoming)

The young woman all in black followed the familiar gravel path of the graveyard. She had come here often this winter to visit the grave of her beloved. Each time, the roses she had planted in the dead of winter had remained barren and lifeless.

She could have coaxed them to bloom with her magic, but she knew roses were tenacious. They would bloom in their own time of their own accord. The cold, dark nights of winter had taught her to wait for the natural order of life.

She could feel today was different, though. Spring had come at last. The nights were shorter, the days were warmer. The world was coming to life again. Today her roses would bloom.

As she approached the grave, she saw that the willow tree whose branches sheltered her beloved from the winter storms had newly budded leaves. Their living green was the color of awakenings and rebirth. She smiled, taking that as a good omen for her roses.

Then she saw them. Her roses had awakened from their barren slumber, putting forth new green shoots. Their leaves eagerly drank in the spring sunlight. Her smile broadened as she discovered two flowers nestled together on one branch just beginning to bloom.

Kneeling in the fertile soil, she bent over to take in the fresh scent of the new roses. "I hope you like them," she whispered as she traced the familiar worn letters of her beloved's name on the headstone.

"I know you're not here," she said as tears welled up in her eyes. Her breath hitched, causing her to wince in pain. She rubbed her belly tenderly where the wounds of winter had not yet healed. "I know that better than anyone," she continued as the pain subsided. Despite the tears coursing down her cheeks, she smiled and added, "Well, almost anyone."

She placed her hand on the ground, above where she thought her beloved's heart must lie. The ground felt warmer than it had the last time she did this, as if it too were awakening with spring.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," she said. "I did so much that I shouldn't have." Her face twisted as her tears began to flow more freely. "I was so lost. I should have trusted..."

Her winter had lasted 19 years. When it had seemed that she would be lost in its dark storms forever, spring had come to her in a form that she would never have expected. The last storm of winter had seemed strong enough to deny the promise of spring and pull her back into its icy embrace forever, but the changing of seasons could not be denied.

"And I wanted to give you one last gift," she said, caressing the blooming roses as the tears dried on her face. As she stood up, her fingers moved in complex gestures, breaking the spells of preservation. It was time for Tara's body to return to the cycle of life as her soul long since had. As she let go completely of the past, her heart opened fully to the present.

"I have always loved you," she said, her voice fervent with promise. "I will always love you."

With those words, she turned towards the spring sun, love blossoming in her heart. As she walked away from the grave of the past, her roses swayed gently in the spring breeze behind her, a promise of rebirth and the renewal of love.

Winter's night was over at last.

Tara found herself gazing into the mirror on the wall opposite their bed. She sat up in bed as she noticed something different about the image in the mirror, but she couldn't quite make out what it was. She looked back and forth between the mirror and the room; checking the bed, the bedside tables, the lamps, the piles of books that she and Willow each had on their respective tables, even the clothes Willow had left on the floor last night.

It was all the same. What could be different? Then she realized there was one thing in the room she hadn't checked: herself. She looked up into the mirror and met the eyes of her reflection. They were the same blue as hers, but there was something ever so slightly different about the features of her face. How could that be?

Then she realized that her reflection's clothes were different too. She was wearing her green robe, but her double in the mirror was wearing the same thing in red. And the self in the mirror was wearing a multifaceted crystal on a simple leather thong around her neck. She felt for the same gem around her neck, but of course it wasn't there.

As she backed away from the mirror, confused by the conjunction of familiarity and strangeness therein, her other self stepped out of the mirror to stand before her. It looked as natural as getting up in the morning. They were of equal heights, and they looked at each other with identical blue eyes. Yet there were those subtle differences.

"W-who are you?" Tara stammered.

"I'm you," the other Tara said, her mouth broadening in that lopsided smile that Tara knew as her own.

"You're me?" Tara asked her double, feeling foolish as she did so.

"That too," the other Tara agreed with a sparkling laugh as she held up the clear crystal to the window. She rolled it in her fingers, letting it glitter and sparkle as different facets caught the light.

Fascinated by the display, Tara stared into the gem. In every facet of the jewel, Tara saw a different reflection of herself. Each was her, but subtly different, like the other Tara who held the stone. As each facet caught the light, it showed her a new version of herself.

"See how each facet reflects the light in its own unique way?" the other Tara asked. "You could almost believe that the facet was the gem," she added in a reflective tone. "But it's only a part of the jewel." She looked significantly at Tara.

"What are you saying?" Tara asked herself. She was puzzled but calm. Somehow, looking into the jewel had calmed her heart, allowing her to accept the presence of her other self here.

"Don't you understand?" the other Tara asked as she pulled the leather cord over her head. "Every facet is unique. There is a time for each to reflect in the light, but time after time, the jewel remains the same." She handed the gem to Tara.

Tara almost gasped at the warmth of the stone as she took it from herself and placed it around her own neck, accepting the responsibility of holding it for now. "I think I understand," she said, nodding to herself.

"Good," the other Tara said to her with a smile. "It's your turn to shine in the light."

With those words, Tara awoke with the light of morning streaming through the window to bathe her in its warmth. As she sat up in bed, she looked into the mirror and saw that she was wearing the faceted clear jewel from her dream. She felt for it around her neck and was relieved to feel its warm presence in her hand.

It was real. She had seen it here before. Willow had called it the soul gem and had told her that it was how she had found her that cold, dark winter night in the graveyard. The reality of the jewel steadied her.

Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms and fingers towards the warm sunlight and curled her toes into the soft blankets of the bed, luxuriating in the simple, calm pleasures of sunlight and the warm rootedness of her home with Willow.

They had planted the seeds of their love in the cold, hard ground of winter, but now the darkness of winter's night had passed. Though the ground had seemed barren, they had planted well and in the spring, the fertile earth had yielded the fruit of their planting. Now in the spring, their love blossomed in the sun.

"You're so beautiful," Willow said, her soft voice completing Tara's reverie as if her thoughts had brought her here.

Tara opened her eyes to see Willow standing in the doorway, hidden by the shadow of their dresser from the light of the sun. "Come here, love," Tara asked, opening her arms in welcome.

As Willow stepped into the light of the spring sun, Tara admired the fire its warmth brought out in her hair. Then Willow crawled into bed and entered her embrace, planting a kiss in the hollow of her throat.

"You're cold," Tara murmured into Willow's shoulder as she unbuttoned her shirt.

"You're warm," Willow replied huskily as she nuzzled Tara's sunkissed throat.

Willow welcomed the warmth of Tara's body, the accelerating pulse of blood beneath her skin, all the signs of life and love. When Tara finished unfastening the last of her buttons, she sat up and raised her arms to let Tara pull off her shirt. Together, they tossed it aside.

As Tara began unzipping her pants, Willow reached behind herself to unfasten the clasp of her bra. She had let go of the cold darkness of the past, and was eager to feel the bright warmth of the present. Freeing herself from the confining garment she tossed it over her shoulder.

Once all of Willow's clothes were off, Tara shrugged out of her robe. They looked at each other for a moment, nothing hidden between them. Like her clothes on the floor, Willow's past was behind them, no longer a barrier dividing them.

Blue eyes met green. The vivid green promised rebirth and growth, the hope of spring. There were shadows of the past, and fears of the future too, but neither occluded the opening of Willow's heart to her. She felt the petals of her own heart opening like a flower to accept the warmth of the love shining forth from those eyes.

Green eyes met blue. They found unconditional love and acceptance in those calm, deep waters. Willow had felt like a rosebush, leafless and barren, bereft of life as she had tried to endure the cold storms of winter. Now though she felt herself blossoming, opening herself to her love like the flowering of a rose.

Tara pulled Willow close to her, warming her with the kiss of skin on skin. Breasts and bellies met as they breathed each other's breaths. Her hands explored the contours of Willow's back with feather light touches, her palms feeling the soft warmth of Willow's skin, while Willow's silken tresses tickled the backs of her hands. There was no more distance between them.

Willow lowered her lips to Tara's, their eyes closing as they kissed tenderly at first, then more passionately. Willow kissed her way across the velvet of Tara's cheek to her ear then down her neck, blessing every square inch of Tara's skin with her love. Their limbs intertwined like the branches of two rosebushes nestled together as their bodies opened to each other and awakened to spring.

They had a new life. A family. And each other.

Winter's night was over at last.

Their love blossomed in the spring.

Continued...