Disclaimer: I take credit for this plot and my own characters, but everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Note: This took forever to write! I came down with a bit of writer's block about halfway through. That, and trying to find a creative name for the final Sage, were my main problems. I'm sorry this one took so long guys. I hope you find it worth the wait.
Chapter Sixteen
"Because the War Needs You"
Something warm and bright was coaxing Ron awake. With a muffled groan, he rolled on his side, his body registering how comfortable the mattress, pillow, blankets and sunlight felt. He wanted to go back to sleep and stay that way forever, but it was too late; he was awake now. Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes. Squinting against the sunlight, he sat up and looked around. The room was simple: a white-washed double bed with a flowery blue comforter, a white-washed dresser, cream colored walls, a wooden walnut floor half covered with an ovular faded blue rug, and delicate lace curtains that covered the violets blossoming in the window box. He saw his and Luna's gear in a neat pile in a corner, but no Luna. He moved to get out of bed to find her, but gasped as a searing pain shot through his body.
He looked down at his bare chest and arms; they were covered in scabs from his numerous cuts. Clean linen strips covered the worst of the wounds. He smiled when he began to remember what had happened; Luna nearly carrying him into the cottage, stripping what was left of his shirt, her gentle hands cleaning and tending to his injuries, and then...just sleep. Ron felt a pressure in his shoulders and glared down at the now yellowish-green bruise covering it. As he sat on the bed, scowling at his newest deformity, the door swung open and Luna stepped in. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, each of them surprised to be face to face with the other so suddenly, and then Luna smiled and closed the door behind her.
"Good afternoon, sleepy head," She said. Ron noticed she was carrying a tray with a pitcher of water, some new linen bandages and a jar of what he assumed was ointment. He watched as she came over to the bed, set the tray at the foot of it, and turned to him, hands on her hips.
"We seem to have misplaced all of our Insta-Heal Ointment. All I could find was this Muggle stuff. It's been doing a pretty good job, but you may have scars." She turned back to the tray and dipped a washcloth in the pitcher. As she wrung it out, she said, "After today, they shouldn't need to be dressed daily." Luna set the damp washcloth back on the tray and went over to Ron. He looked up at her from his spot on the bed and noted--with concealed amusement--that she didn't make eye contact with him. She hesitated for a moment, then bent and began to unwrap the bandages. Ron shifted his hands behind him and supported his weight on his palms, making it easier for Luna to undress the wounds. She rolled up the old bandages and placed them on the tray, then picked up the washcloth.
Ron saw her bite her lip, but he pretended not to notice. He watched Luna's face as she dabbed at his cuts with the wet cloth. The water was cool, and though it stung momentarily, he welcomed it on his half-healed skin. Though he tried, he couldn't suppress a small sigh as she cleaned the gashes. Luna hid a smile by biting her lip a bit harder.
When she had finished the cleaning, she went back to the tray for the ointment and the bandages. The smooth gel of the ointment felt good on his scabs, but Ron enjoyed the feel of Luna's fingers on his bare chest and arms more. Gently, she wrapped him back up with the linen, her slender hands making tight, secure bandages out of the strips. When she was finished, she cleaned up her supplies and left the room, blushing furiously. Apparently, she had been aware of Ron's eyes on her during the whole process. He smiled at that; he liked teasing Luna.
She had left the door ajar. With a groan, Ron got to his feet and staggered over to the open doorway. He leaned against the frame and watched Luna place the tray on the counter of a walk-in kitchen. She felt Ron's stare from across the room and glanced up. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Ron felt his own face flush this time. Apparently he wasn't the only one who could tease without really meaning to. To his confusion, however, Luna's eyebrows snapped together, and before Ron knew what was happening, he was sailing backwards into the bedroom again.
Gasping for the air that had been knocked out of his lungs, Ron pulled himself to his knees. Mouth hanging open, he looked up as Luna strode angrily into the bedroom.
"Why in the name of Merlin did you send a vampire after me?" She demanded.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but he was still too winded for words. Rolling her eyes, Luna swished her hand and a healthy flow of oxygen returned to Ron's lungs. As black spots danced across his eyes, Ron got to his feet, swaying as he did. Once he had completely righted himself, he raised his eyes to Luna. He wanted to laugh at how cute she looked when she was angry, but he knew now was not the time for laughing. If he were Luna, he would want the truth just as badly. He tried to think of an answer to quell her anger, but nothing seemed suitable for the situation. There was no nice way he could put it, no version he could tell her that would make him sound like a grand, intelligent hero who's rescue--though they had been made with her best intentions at heart--had gone terribly askew.
"I was desperate to get you back," He admitted, deciding that the truth would be the best way to go. He stood up a little straighter and looked his companion square in the eye. "I knew what you were planning, and dammit Luna, I wasn't going to let you go on alone. You mean too much to the Few, too much to ARMED. Harry would have my head if I lost you. I..." His voice faltered; his eyes flicked away from hers. He didn't see the look of rapt attention on Luna's face as he said his next words. Quieter now, his head bent as he gazed at the floor, the wall, anywhere but back into her eyes, he said, "I would've had my head if I lost you. So...I didn't know what else to do. I went to Isabella and hired her to track you down so I could find you." Angry now, he turned and punched the wall. "She promised she wouldn't hurt you, Luna, I wouldn't have sent her if I thought she would do what she tried to do. She took enough from me, I th---" His voice trailed off when he realized he had said too much.
He dropped his eyes again when he heard Luna come over to him. She rested one of her delicate hands on his bare triceps and with the other pushed back his red curls to reveal the bite marks on his neck. Ron missed the small gasp she gave; he was too busy trying to contain the goose bumps her touch had resurrected.
"You let her bite you?" Luna breathed, moving herself so he was forced to look at her.
Ron watched her for a moment, his eyes searching her face as he tried to discern whether she was worried for him or herself. "That's how she takes her payments," he explained. "So that's how I paid her. She didn't turn me, if that's what you're staring so intently at me about."
"How are you sure?" Luna demanded, ignoring the frivolity of his last remark.
Ron reached down and took her hand. Luna watched, mesmerized, as Ron led her fingers to his neck. "Do you feel the vein there?" He asked. Luna nodded blankly, her mind a whir of thoughts. "Notice how the bite is above the vein. Had Isabella gone perhaps a centimeter lower, well," Ron smiled at Luna and removed her hand from his neck. "Perhaps then we would have reason to worry."
He broke away from Luna and went over to his gear in the corner. He needed to catch his breath; he hated how he was always left so unnerved whenever she stood close to him or looked at him as she had been. He hefted his sword into his hands to clean it, but found the blood from the battle already wiped away by Luna. He turned to thank her, but his words caught in his throat before he could speak them.
A single tear was making its way slowly down her cheek. Ron felt his heart break when he noticed there were more filling her eyes, waiting for their turn to fall. He had seen Luna cry plenty of times; occasionally, he had even been the cause of the tears. He never liked catching her in such a vulnerable human act, but this time it was different. This time, he didn't see defeat, betrayal or anguish in her face. This time, Luna seemed more amazed and confused than anything else. For the first time since their mission had begun, Ron didn't know what to do.
"Why?" She whispered after what seemed like an eternity of silence. "Why did you let me in that first night? Why did you let me come on the mission? Why...why did you risk you life to come after me, Ron? Why did you choose me over her?" The tears flowed thickly from her eyes now, and her voice cracked when she spoke to him, but never once did he see that look on her face change. He knew how easily he could answer all of her questions. He had admitted it to himself a while ago, but to speak it out loud to her...now, in that moment, after everything that had already happened and before everything he knew was doomed to come....
It seemed so perfect, like the exact thing they both needed to hear, but if he said it, he would be committed to it. Half of him wanted nothing more than that, but his skeptical side wondered if it was true, and if admitting it would jeopardize the mission. If he said it, he would be condemning himself a fate he wasn't sure he wanted to be tied to, and yet the way she was looking at him....
"Because the War needs you," he said quietly as he lowered his eyes. Without another word or glance at Luna, he grabbed a shirt from the drawer and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Thinking he would go for a walk, Ron moved to leave the cottage, but collapsed against the bedroom door instead. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against it and listened to Luna crying softly on the other side. As he felt two of his own tears slide down his cheek, he told himself he had done the right thing. A deep, ragged breath and he had pulled himself together. He tugged on the shirt and left the cottage, trying to dismiss the sound of Luna's quiet sobs as they echoed around inside his broken heart.
~*~*~*~*~
Ellanee let out a muted gasp as she watched Ron leave. 'We have to do something!' She thought to Trilithiana, who agreed and voiced the comment to their third sister.
"There is nothing we can do," She said sadly without taking her eyes off of Ellanee's vision. "We cannot interfere. We've done enough for her already. It is not our place."
'They were so close,' Ellanee thought, her heart breaking for the human race as their last hope collapsed in a rush of tears and pride. Trilithiana heard the thought, but remained silent. Their sister was right; there was no more they could do for Luna. They had taught her combat, had honed her magical abilites, had schemed and dabbled in the lives of humans until she and Ron had been thrown together. Once they had been reunited however, the Sages knew they needed to back off and let destiny and allure take over. They could only alter fate so much.
'We were so close to ending this,' Trilithiana thought to herself. 'So close to ending a project that's spanned hundreds of eons. Adam and Eve failed. Cleopatra and Marc Antony failed. Romeo and Juliet were close, but they too let us down. They were given a love reincarnated from history's most prominent sweethearts, they came closer than the rest ever could, and at the last second, what happens? He denies it! And yet there is nothing we ca--' Her thought trailed off as she spotted a loophole in the rules of the game. Excited, she looked up at her sisters. Sensing her ado, they turned to stare at her. Even through the milky film that obscured her vision, they could see in Trilithiana's blind eyes that she had an idea. All at once, the third sister suddenly understood.
"I will do it," She breathed. Ellanee and Trilithiana nodded and watched through Ellanee's eyes as she disappeared on a gust of wind.
~*~*~*~*~
On the mountain, Ron could've sworn he heard Luna say she knew of a town close by, but looking around now, Ron saw no town. True enough, about two miles east stood the mountains where Isabella lay slain in the underbrush. All around the cottage however, was nothing but verdant, rolling hills covered in tall grasses and wildflowers. With a sigh, he pushed his hands in his pockets and began walking, not sure where he wanted to go. He was a good hundred yards away from the cottage when the wind picked up. Ron spun around, trying to tell himself he wasn't hoping it was Luna. To his surprise, the woman standing a foot away from him was like none he had ever seen before.
She was an easy seven and a half feet tall, slender and graceful in white silk robes. As the wind blew around her, her long auburn hair billowed around her face, setting off her ivory skin and navy blue eyes. Awe, respect and fear mixed together in the pit of Ron's stomach as he gazed at the entity before him. She had to be a goddess, for there was no other word for a woman so impossibly beautiful. The air rippled around her, and Ron could sense the presence of an ancient, somewhat foreboding power emanating from her. It made him want to get down on his knees and swear to follow her every word until the end of time, like a knight to his queen. And yet, as he stared at the otherworldly stranger, he couldn't help but feel as if he had met her before. Several times before, actually, long ago in a different time and place.
"Who are you?" He stammered after a long time of simply staring at her. He wanted to Hex himself to eternity for asking such a stupid question to such an exquisite being, but his mind was not with him at the moment and there was nothing about it he could do.
"I am Seraphine," She said simply, her melodic voice floating on the breezes she attracted as they fluttered by Ron's ears. 'Seraphine, like seraphim,' Ron couldn't help thinking. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he could've sworn he saw a smirk pass across the woman's full, crimson lips. He blinked, and any trace of emotion in her face was gone.
Ron didn't know what to say. He could handle a beautiful -- though emotionally volatile -- elemental and a fatally seductive Gypsy vampiress, but not a pulchritudinous angel who was at least a foot taller than him. There was no doubt in his mind that Seraphine wasn't just out for a walk; she wanted something from him, and Ron wasn't sure he had anything left to give. His body and heart had been spent on Isabella and Luna, respectively, and something about Seraphine told Ron that if it was a fight she wanted, there was no possible way he could win.
"Do you not recognize me, Great Warrior?" She said softly, and Ron could've sworn her voice had a tint of humor to it. Ron was going to answer "no" but was suddenly hit with a memory of one of the visions Luna had shared with him. Three ghostly women with bodiless voices, one of them stepping forward and handing Luna a sword...a torrential gust of wind...those same large eyes, only without color....
"You're a Sage?" He breathed, staring at Seraphine more intently than he had already been. "But...but...you don't look a thing like them!"
"The Enchantress is the only mortal allowed to view us in our true forms," She said plainly, as if it was a well-known fact covered in children's textbooks.
"Aren't there supposed to be three of you?" Ron asked, still confused. What did the Sages want with him?
"My sisters cannot be without each other," She said in that same simple tone. "Trilithiana is blind and must use Ellanee's eyes to see, and Ellanee is mute without Trilithiana's voice. We could not all be spared for this particular journey."
"What do you want with me?" He blurted before he could stop himself.
Ron caught her smirk this time. "Do your questions never cease, oh Chosen One?" Seraphine asked humorously. "It's not what I want with you that matters." Ron watched, spellbound by the Sage, as she reached in the folds of her robes and pulled out his sword. "What you want with yourself is the reason I am here."
Sapphire eyes lowered themselves to the magnificent steel blade. Long fingers loving caressed the hilt. "This blade was given to you for a reason, Warrior," Ron heard her murmur as she continued to examine the sword. "Your entire life was given to you for a reason. Of course, it is your decision whether or not you will fight your destiny. No other can walk the path that was blazed for you and you alone. You may have other by your side for brief moments, but at the end of the road, you are the only one who can open the gates that will lead you home.
"A man is marked by what is found inside of his heart, Ronald Weasley," Seraphine said as she looked back up at him. Her eyes were suddenly more piercing than before, and her voice had found a powerful solidity. "That is the only thing that truly defines him. Destiny does not wait for your insecurities. If you do not admit who you are in time, the moment will pass you by, and you will be left with nothing to live for."
"Why are you telling me this?" Ron demanded. How could she possibly know? And was he certain he understood her clearly? Seraphine smiled coyly at him, a wicked blue fire dancing in her eyes.
"Because the War needs you."
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but a blast of wind knocked him off his balance. When it died down and he had righted himself, all that was left in he wake of the beautiful Sage, its tip buried deep into the lush grass, was his sword.