I had planned it all from the beginning. From the moment of my husband’s death, I wanted to cheat Death. Was I not in essence immortal? Could I not use my own blood to strike some sort of bargain? Every magical tome that I could lay my hands upon, every grimoire I could pour over, every Sorcerer and Magus I could consult, I was determined to find a way. I owed it to him, I owed it to the daughter that he never knew, and above all, I owed it to myself.
Everything was in alignment. I calculated the position of the stars and planets. I fashioned every sigil by my own hand and I had crafted them to perfection. Every magical detail was seen to a thousand times over. For over four hundred years I had waited, and when everything was exactly as it should be, I worked the Rite. I shed my own blood to mingle with his, to awaken him and in all fairness it should have worked. But alas, it didn’t. For four more days I waited, and still, nothing. I was devastated. I left the family crypt. I decided that I would think about it tomorrow. Now I needed to call the one person in the world whom I trusted. Hsu Danmei and I had been friends for centuries, and in my depths of sorrow at my greatest disappointment, he came to me from his home in Toulouse to my husband’s ancestral home, the Château de Rochefort. We talked for hours, shared dinner and later that evening we fell into that familiar space of what it was to be what is called ‘friends with benefits’.
My life had not stopped, even though I had failed to accomplish what I set out to do and the one whom I consider my oldest friend reminded me of this fact. It was not until I awakened from a satisfied slumber; the bed empty, only to hear hear Hsu speaking to someone in the library that I realised something was different. It took a moment for me to actually realize who it was he was talking to.
“If you are whom I suspect you are,” Hsu’s voice growled quietly, “I know someone who will be very relieved to see you. But be that as it may, you are in fact wearing my robe.”
“Yes, however, you were sleeping with my wife. So I do believe that rather makes us even, don’t you think?”
I turned the corner and there, before a roaring fire, was my once-dead husband. His one eye assessed me then Hsu. A smirk twitched at the corner of Sebastien’s mouth.
“I trust you slept well, Faelyn, in spite of the storm?”
At that point, I wanted to take the nearest, heaviest object and hurl it soundly at his head but I couldn’t move. I was in that moment absolutely dumbstruck. When at last I did find my voice, it was not what I had imagined that I would say to him after all of these years.
“You’re late, Sebastien,” I glared at him.
“Mon enchantreusse,” he all but purred at me, “surely you know by now I tend to be a late riser.”
It was an answer that was truly him. Sebastien was as I had remembered him – as sharp and as stroppy as ever. All of my planning and efforts had paid off. And so I ask you….what greater triumph can anyone ever achieve than over Death itself?
Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 533
A special thanks from the mun goes out to all_forme and civ_barbarian for their indulgence in my plot bunny madness! 😉