DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. If I did, I'm pretty sure I'd be rich, but yeah...

BETA: JUST ME AND MY SILLY LITTLE SELF. And Word, that too. For some reason Word kept labeling 'Marquess' as wrong – Word, I know what I'm spelling! DX

Your thoughts and correction would be greatly appreciated, even in a PM, lovely lads and ladies!

Light the Weary Way

Prologue

Filial Bonds and Their Nonsense

It was in the rays of the sun that they were told not to wander far from the village walls. Nighttime was even more dangerous. The children were told to hush and bundle themselves up tight in their beds; shut their shutters closed, squeeze their eyes and pray that when the sun up again, they would awaken safe and sound.

The Sacaen: people of the plains, mountains, rivers and the sea. No where you could look, past the gardens, through the thin growth of trees, towards the direction of gold-etched castles and capitals, would you see them, but stories of sightings were still told. Their skin brown, gold and their heads: green as vines and hissing snakes. Sacaen eyes were said to be bewitching, as piercing as a dragon and sharp as a hawk.

The children knew nothing of such. All told, they thought Sacaen as monsters in the dark, unnamed shapes filled with nightmares and places where the beasts roamed, eyes glinting in the black of moonless nights.

"They will take you away, and never will you see us again." Mothers and fathers would explain carefully to their wide-eyed offspring. "They will feed you stories to fill you up from belly to mind, and you won't be able to see two feet in front. You will lose your soul to them."

There was a simple rhyme taught to the children, to help them remember, and it was as a play-song, sung between games, hauntingly.

Sacaen, Sacaen

All brown and green

Sacaen, Sacaen

In the trees

Sacaen, Sacaen

Don't take us please

Sacaen, Sacaen, Sacaen

As an extra precaution, the children residing in the village proper repeated senselessly, every day, "Sacaen in sight, run in fright," until parents nodded stoutly and let them go out to play.

The Lady Chire of Sir Magistrate Baker was one such person that the children ran from, and the adults were wary of – pulling their children close, wrapped tight in fathers' arms and mothers' skirts. Centuries upon centuries of incidents and stories – all fear and thinly veiled disgust - all directed at one woman.

Women would shake their heads, lean in close and whisper, "Such a bewitchment. Look at her. How she has turned Sir Magistrate's head on backwards!" They could not see why else their Sir Magistrate would take her into his arms – whatever could it be but a charm by a savage witch pretending to be a noble lady?

Men would carefully avoid direct eye-contact and turn their heads away from her whenever she deigned to pass into town on an unsaddled horse, a leg on either side. They did not need to see such an uncouth, wild-haired savage, to know that she would bewitch and simper like a tramp on a corner; waving her arms and baring all teeth like a viper.

It was on a day of bad omens, that news leaked from the Magistrate's manor, spreading like wildfire.

Lady Chire (and how the people cringed to call her station as it was) was with child, a second for Sir Magistrate and a first for the Lady Chire.

Even more boggling to the minds of the village citizen, was the amount of people coming from the backwoods area, where the ground was so unfertile it had to have been salted. The lines as long as the news lasted for the week until the end of the month; they came, like a stream of ants. Pates as brown as the earth and sand, like their own, and skin as pale and worked as the common village peasant. What event truly sent their minds ablaze and their mouths moving were the gifts. All sent to the manor on top of the largest hill, personally.

There were hewn dresses of linen, all big and billowing in the middle and of various colours. Scarves made in red, yellow and blue for her hair, and slippers too, to fit to her soon-to-swell feet. There were baskets, hand-woven, and intricately so, filled with fruits and vegetables, ripe enough to water the mouth. For each gift, there were thrice as many well-wishes and charm bangles for health and prosperity for the Lady Chire and her unborn child.

Perhaps the most eye-catching of the troupe of people, were near the beginning: a family with hair as deep red as their Pheraen Marquess's line, but with none of the wealth. The family of two, than later three accompanied by a brown-haired man, kept appearing over and over, and each time, was warmly welcomed inside by the Lady Chire herself.

~*~

"Now, Willow, here, come here." Impatiently, Sarah of Lycia of Pherae, held her hand behind her with a backwards look. As Wil ran up from where he had been crouching to eye whatever had caught his interest, Sarah sighed, "You want to make our good visit last, right?" Wil nodded vigorously and Sarah smiled, "Yes, you do! Right. Well, we must come together, then."

Wil scrunched up his nose, "It's Wil. What about Father?" He took her hand and gripped it firmly, legs quickening their pace to keep up with his mother's long strides.

Sarah slowed her march, "He'll meet us half-way. He's finishing up the chores you didn't." Sarah looked down and saw her son duck his head, ears red, and hid a satisfied grin.

"M'sorry, Mama."

"Mm. Yes, and you should be. It's not in every home that the son can laze himself away whenever he feels like it!"

Wil threw his shoulders back and glared, "I'm not a laze! I was exploring, I was! And I almost found the Frog Prince, and he was really hard to find, too."

"Frog princes? Next, it will be swan princesses, and after that, pegasi fowls!" Sarah laughed. Her son had quite the imagination. He was always coming back home, announcing one thing or another: he fought a wyvern with mean eyes, or that he rescued a beautiful fairy in the meadow behind their home and she gave him sweets in thanks, and other tales more fanciful than the next. Sarah and Yaoss of Lycia of Pherae nee Bern were practical people and hard at work their entire lives, and could not see head-to toe about the things Wil spouted or how his mind worked. The couple, living in their simple straw-roofed home, loved their bright Wil regardless, and found no harm in indulging him as the child he was. Even if he befuddled them to no end, as he was wont to do every day from morning to night.

"I dare say a girl has less imagination than you, Wil-bug." Sarah said, casting the sanguine-haired boy a teasing look.

Wil took offense, "I'm no girl! I'm a boy!"

"I should think you are! Else I'd wonder who robbed my cradle!" Wil wrinkled his nose and sent his mom a knowing grin,

"Mama, you would love me, anyway." Sarah chuckled at this and blew him a kiss.

The pair continued in content silence, only broken every now and then when Wil asked a quick question, pointing with questing fingers at the environs or above into the blue, cloudless sky. Sarah answered as best she could, her throat questing for water several minutes later. They were not half-way yet, having lived a good day's walk from the village proper.

Sarah glanced about her, and recognizing a few trees by their white and gray patterned bark, led Wil in their direction with a tug.

"And where's fairy mushrooms there's pix – where we goin', Mama? Off the trail?"

"Mama's thirsty, love." She looked down at him, "Aren't you?" Wil nodded and rubbed his throat, with a wince.

"Very. I think I stretched it too much! Feels like I ate a couple'a rocks."

Sarah sighed, "You are terribly dramatic. I should sell you to traveling performers."

"No, don't sell me, Mama!"

"Oh, Wil, I'm jesting you!" She caught the tell-tale sound of water in the distance and gave herself a mental pat of congratulations.

"I'd be laughin' too, and I'm not." Wil pouted at her for a second, than the expression fell away, "What's that?" Wil asked, pinching the top of one ear with his free hand and moving it about.

Sarah came to a halt and watched him, unsure whether to laugh, "… What are you doing, Wil-bug?"

Wil ignored her, eyes squinting. "I'm listening." He stretched his reddening ear out further, before lessening the tug, and repeated the motion.

She decided Wil was being serious. "To what? The water? That's water, love." Sarah answered, belatedly. "You know that. … And why're you pulling your ear like that? You aren't going to hear any better." Sarah resumed their walk to the small brook she knew was a minute or two past the copse of trees in front of them.

"A fox said it would help." Wil explained, as if it was common knowledge.

"Ah." Sarah did not know how she had created such a bundle of wild imagination, but she managed, somehow. Sarah shrugged and decided Wil was being Wil, as usual.

Wil eyed something with a grin, "I see it! I see the river, Mama!"

Sarah smiled. "I know, I can see it myself, now. Sharp eyes, Wil. That's a good thing!" Wil's eyes and lips upturned happily. What Sarah also thought was a good thing, was that Wil stopped tugging at his now-abused ear.

The trees and the sun's rays changing their leaves yellow-green paused abruptly, as the riverbed burbled happily two feet in front of the mother and son. They stopped, then, toes of sandaled feet dappled by the water's natural spray, an inch from the winding water source.

Sarah let go of Wil's hand, and motioned for him to drink, and cupped herself a mouthful, exclaiming, "Ah! Refreshing and crisp, as cold as dawn's kiss." Sarah noticed Wil being peculiar, more than usual, at the corner of her right eye and turned her head to gather more insight.

Wil was bent over double, supported mostly by his toes, head so close to the water's surface his nose nearly touched it, whispering something. After he was done, he gave a grin and nod, soon scooping up his own fill in two small hands.

Sarah knew she didn't really want to know, but, "Wil-bug, what was that you just did?"

Wil gave her a glance with his browned-honey eyes and was quiet.

Sarah suppressed a shiver, and prodded, "Wil? Wil-bug." She repeated her affectionate nickname for him, sternly. "Mama wants to know." When Wil remained silent and watchful, Sarah cocked her head to the side and added, "So that Mama can do it, too."

Wil's queer look faded immediately, replaced by eager and child-bright eyes. Sarah felt her chest and gut lose the tightness and smiled back at Wil.

Wil straightened himself out and sat down on his rump beside her.

"I was talking to the water and asking to drink. You should always make sure to be polite and ask for whatever you want." Sarah forced a nod. That was a mannerism she and Yaoss had made sure Wil knew and practiced. Too many children, peasant and noble, were ignorant to etiquette or ignored it – unless in front of their parents – and Sarah and Yaoss were proud to say that this politeness, if directed to odd things sometimes, was something else that separated Wil from the other unruly children.

"I see." Sarah did not. Sarah turned her attention to the river, feeling Wil's heavy stare. She looked down into it, seeing a blurry, darker version of herself, and wondered if she looked hard enough, this time, she would see what Wil saw everyday from his eyes.

Sarah looked for several minutes in silence, only the sounds of the river's eddies and the birds hymns to accompany her search. For a brief moment, the wind whistled and picked up into the tree tops behind and before them on the other riverside, and Sarah heard the sea in them. The wind soon died and Sarah felt her moment had passed, for now, but she had not garnered what she wanted.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, quietly, swallowing thickly. Sarah did not see anything that explained her child as he was. Wil leaned over to hug her, tightly, and Sarah turned herself to Wil, reciprocating.

"You're forgiven!" Wil said, smiling at the river.

Sarah felt better, melancholy mood gone. She leaned back to look Wil in the eyes, "Well, I'm feeling much brighter now!"

Wil responded with a screw-eyed look, "I was saying it to the river, not you!"

Sarah's shocked and delighted laughter rang through the trees and carried itself down the river.

~*~

Yaoss was waiting for them, leaning on one of the thick-trunked trees, when they managed to back-track after Sarah let Wil splash out some overabundant energy in the river. Now, Wil was soaked, clothes clinging to him like a second skin. He was still as lit up as before, however, as Sarah knew he'd be.

Yaoss tutted, and reached down to heft him up high, much to Wil's squealing delight. Sarah laughed, watching both interact.

"Rah!" Yaoss mock-grunted in effort, "Is that the water that's making ya' so darn heavy, Wil? Or just been eating something on the side, without telling us, hm?" He slung Wil with an easy, well-practiced motion, so that the boy was seated on his shoulders. Wil craned his neck down to look at Yaoss upside down,

"I've been eatin' what you've been eatin'!" Wil's expression turned to sly, "Well… maybe some berries and roots I've gathered when I was explorin'."

"Gwahaha! That's my boy!" Yaoss guffawed in his booming voice.

"Oh, Wil. Eat too many berries, and you'll turn into one!" Sarah chided, lightly. Wil popped his head back up to give her an alarmed look, but soon grinned back at his mother.

"Nah," Yaoss said, "Them little pixies of yours would fix ya' right up, yeh?"

Sarah gave Yaoss a look that the man ignored, content to see Wil's face light up at his comment.

"Yeah!" Wil looked ecstatic, "They would make sure that I had arms and legs, eyes and ears, and a nose, so that I can play with them whenever they want!"

"Gwahaha! Boy knows his parts, yeh, Sarah?" Yaoss beamed, as proud as a man could be.

Sarah heaved a breath out, chuckling, "Yes. He does, that. Now c'mon," Sarah beckoned, reaching up her arms to Wil, and Yaoss bent his neck down, while Wil leaned forward to his mother to be deposited down on the ground. "Off we go."

Wil renewed his grip on his mother's hand, and trudged along beside the two adults. "Mama, Father, what's that?" He asked, pointing to the sky.

Sarah and Yaoss exchanged amused looks. "Wil, the Ever-Curious Little Lad!" Yaoss boomed, eyes watering, "That, is an eagle, that is!" He sniffled loudly, "If I'd ever seen a brighter boy, deal me to Death's door right'a'way!"

"Father!" Wil squawked in dismay.

"YAOSS!" Sarah snarled. "Don't ever speak about things like dying!"

"Yeah!" Wil agreed. He ran to his mother's other side to enable him to grasp both their hands.

"Besides," Wil continued, his eyes shrewd, "Death don't have a door. He has a boat!"

Yaoss looked down startled and Sarah was alarmed. "Who told you that?" She asked, sharply.

Wil turned his head to stare at her, "The fairies."

"No," Sarah stressed, "Fairies don't - Wil, tell me the truth. Who told you about things you're too young to be told?" She halted, forcing the other two to, too. She crouched down on her knees to look him properly in the eyes.

Wil bit his lip and looked away. "… I'm sorry." His chest shuddered and his throat worked itself audibly.

"There." Yaoss suddenly interrupted, before Sarah could open her mouth. "Wil's sorry, and Sarah, he knows what he knows now, and no taking it back, ever. Just leave him be."

Sarah shot up to glare at him, "Yes, exactly! Someone told my baby that – that… that Death goes in a boat, rowing for souls to ferry! Ferry far and away. And who knows what else Wil's heard – he probably thinks he's gonna go away!"

"No, I don't."

Sarah shouted, trying to put her feelings in words, "There isn't anything high and low that'll keep me from - !" Sarah couldn't even see straight. All she could think of was some man or woman, or a malicious little brat, hissing in her son's ears that he wasn't normal, and only normal little boys went to the golden land. Sarah's chest heaved in deep gusts of air, because she was about ready to turn herself around – maybe to the east, where those ugly, evil Thornbers resided; they always looked at Wil with those queer, sneering faces – and march herself right up to them and punch them and hurt them.

Yaoss grabbed her shoulders, told Wil, "Go find some brownies, my boy," and led her away, until they stood in the shadows of the woods.

"What do they look like?" Wil called, already looking around and wandering for them.

"Brown, cause their brownies – and as little as them buttercups, there," Yaoss explained back, and once he could see Wil was busy, turned to Sarah, and directed her attention from Wil to him. "Calm down, darlin'. Breath in and out," he repeated it over and over, and nodded when she began to feel herself unwind, "And… there. All that red in your face is all gone, now." He pulled her to him and embraced her.

"Mind telling me what's what, Sere? Is it cause he's only four and still so tiny?" Sarah nodded, face to his chest. "Has a big heart and wild head?" Sarah nodded again, suddenly snorting,

"Never get those licks down."

Yaoss chuckled, "That too, that too."

Sarah finally lifted her head, blowing out a puff of air, "Ah! Yaoss, some days I don't even know, you know?" Yaoss continued to hold her, giving a non-committal sound, smiling affectionately. "I mean, just the thought of – just anyone even looking at him wrongly. I lose it. He's my son, my only child."

"Mine, too." Yaoss said.

"You know what I mean."

Yaoss sighed, "You do say things to hurt, darlin'." Sarah was just about to retort, when Yaoss kissed her softly, "… I know, I know." He murmured tightly against her lips, almost crushing her to him with his arms.

Sarah opened her eyes to look up at him, imploringly. "He is yours, too. I won't ever be able to say how grateful and happy you've made me, and Wil – he just took to you like a fish in water."

They stared into another's eyes, and Sarah knew that they'd just overcome an issue that she had known was there, but hadn't known was an issue. Sarah smiled, because she could hear Wil scrabbling away near them, feel the calming breaths of Yaoss, hear his deep thrumming heartbeat, and could stay in this moment forever and -

"Maybe a duck," Yaoss ruined their moment, pulling away with a contemplative face. "Wil don't swim so well. … Floats like he's got himself some feathers, though! Gwahahaha!" Yaoss boomed with his big-bellied laugh, wiping at his eyes, once, and then, twice.

"Ugh," Sarah pulled away with a grin, and gave him a light slap on one big arm, "Always with the jesting." Yaoss released another round of laughter, Sarah's entwined, when Wil's shouts had them turning to him.

"I found them, I found them!" Wil screeched out, wildly running to them, hair askew (more than usual) and grinning all-teeth.

Sarah blinked and asked Yaoss without looking away from Wil's closing-in form, "The brownies?" She had been so angry that she had barely caught the tail end of Yaoss's suggestion to Wil.

"… Yeh." Yaoss said, arm around her waist, as they walked back to the trail where Wil was standing proudly, small hands clenched together in front of him.

"What'cha got, my boy? Found them brownies?" Wil nodded furiously, and Yaoss grinned and bent closer.

Sarah decided that Yaoss's over-indulgence in Wil's imagination was a blessing in itself, and leaned in close to Wil, too, smiling happily. "Let's see what you have, Wil-bug!"

The child looked fit to burst.

"Here!" Wil opened his hands, holding them palms up, as if carrying a trophy. "It took me awhile, but I got them! I did!"

Sarah stared, "Oh, my…" It was sheer will that kept her smile from turning into a wincing one.

Yaoss's eyebrows shot straight to his hairline, "Well, Wil, you've certainly outdone yerself this time!"

"I know! I'm so proud!" Wil spout out, unable to help himself, chest puffed out, "Now, you'll really, really believe!"

"You've got yerself a handful of rabbit shite!" Yaoss continued to say.

Wil nodded, "Yeah! And –!" Wil caught himself and gaped at his father, "What?!"

Yaoss nodded, looking toward the blue above them, mustache quivering. "Yeh, at least now ya' know what to look fer when trackin' fer some rabbit stew!" Yaoss chanced a glance down, and couldn't contain his mirth at Wil's shock, "Got ourselves a fine, hunter-born! Gwahahaha!"

Sarah pretended that that was what Wil had really been after, "Oh, good job, my little hunter!" Sarah desperately latched onto something else to say and babbled, "They're so small – and round! And brown! Fit in your ha-ah- ahn - neehehahaha!"

Wil shook his hands free of the feces with a look of disgust, and Sarah saw him study them for a moment, before his eyes flared up and sparkled.

His own laughter soon echoed with theirs, "Gaa-hahahaha!"

The family decided the visit to Lady Chire's could wait and turned around back home. It had been two years, what was a day more?

A.N.: Yes, Wil is Willow. I just couldn't find a good enough name that would enable the use of 'Wil' without questioning why someone would use that short form for their name when they had a normal name like 'William' or 'Wilfredo', etc. etc. that anyone could call them that without strange looks. So, Willow it was. Good thing you won't be seeing it too often, because Wil prefers Wil.

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Edited: 05/27/2009