Rain and Rosanna

Author's Note: this story is set after the conclusion of "When Clans Collide" and is for
mature readers only due to adult content.

        Rain looked at Rosanna, at the twinkling lights reflected in her large, lovely eyes. The
wind from the motorboat's passage threw her brown hair in tendrils across her face and she
pushed it absently aside, watching the city recede into the distance.
        "The rebuilding went well," he said.
        She nodded. "And life's back to normal, or at least, as normal as it ever was." With a
soft, decisive sigh, she turned away from the dwindling skyscrapers. Now her hair streamed
behind her, blown back from her lavender-hued forehead and the short horns that framed it.
        Ahead of them, the stars first grew brighter as they passed beyond the reach of
Manhattan's light pollution, then began to dim as faint threads of mist stretched from the dark
sea to the sky.
        "It's starting," she said. "Next stop, Avalon."
        "Next stop, mated life," he said, making her smile. "You really don't mind that I want to
go home first?"
        "Not at all," she assured him. "If that part of the Green, the part your mother transported
there, is even half as beautiful as the version my parents described, I know I'll enjoy it."
        "The house isn't much," he warned her. "Nothing fancy."
        She took his hand. "I'm not worried about that."
        A damp, cottony silence descended. The chugging of the motor smoothed out and the
boat slowed. They glided over the water much as they were used to gliding through the air.
Ripples lapped at the hull as they continued moving forward, at less speed but still steadily. Rain
felt the first delicate brush of cool mist on his face and breathed deeply of that scent that wasn't
quite seaspray and wasn't quite floral but was something of both.
        "Uh-oh," Rain murmured.
        Rosanna glanced at him. "Something the matter, my love?"
        "The thought occurs ... going to Avalon might not actually be such a good idea."
        "You're not getting cold talons on me, are you?" she teased.
        "It's not that, believe me! But ... I'm not likely to find a very warm welcome. Not after ...
the Weird Sisters."
        "Oh," she said, suddenly subdued. They both fell quiet, recalling that grim magical battle.
Then Rosanna raised his hand to her lips and kissed the backs of his knuckles. "It'll be all right.
Whatever happens, we'll go through it together."
        "They could be waiting to kill me for what I did. I shouldn't have brought you here, put
you in this danger."
        "I'm where I belong. With you. No matter what. I'll stand with you, to the very end."
        He slipped his arm around her and rested his cheek against the satin of her hair. "I just
hope you don't wind up standing with me to the very end in front of an executioner."
        "You're the one who has his destiny all mapped out," she said, that teasing once more
entering her voice. "Somehow, I don't think a firing squad is your destiny."
        "Since when did you become a prophetess?" he chided in return.
        She answered with only a gentle kiss, which broke too soon as they both became aware
of the dawning silvery paleness of the mist. It thinned beneath the gleam of a flawless moon,
then blew away like half-heard whispers. The boat cruised serenely on, toward the lush and
fragrant hills of Avalon.

  *  *

        "Perfect!" Rain said, vaulting nimbly over the side and splashing down in the shallows.
        Before Rosanna could do likewise, her beloved had seized the prow and was pulling. She
swayed for balance as he manhandled it up the small, sheltered beach. Wet sand gritted under
the hull. The moon made grinning fairy-faces in the streaks of sea-foam. All around them was
dense forest, the trees crowding to the very edge of the low embankment that curved slightly
over the beach, some leaning outward as if to dip their boughs in the water.
        The fragrance of tropical flowers filled the air. Rosanna saw fruit hanging from branches,
invitingly ripe and bursting with the promise of sweet juice.
        They had this section of the island to themselves, it seemed. No one was visible, at any
rate, and her other senses didn't give her any indication that they were being observed from
hiding.
        Rain towed the boat further up the shore to make sure no errant tides carried it away,
and then they retrieved their belongings.
        "This is it," he said. "Where I grew up. These trees are descended from the ones my
mother brought."
        "But they're so tall! Doesn't time pass more slowly here?"
        He shrugged. "The soil's rich, the whole place is steeped in magic. Mother said everything
they planted did so well that you could practically sit and watch it grow. The house is just over
here."
        She followed him into the lush greenery. Leaves and petals like angel's wings against
them as they passed.
        "House?" she said dubiously, coming to a halt in a small clearing.
        Rain chuckled. "You said you weren't worried about that."
        "You said it was a house," she replied. "This is a hut at best."
        "But it's all ours."
        A warm feeling washed through her and she smiled. "Good point."
        "Avalon brought us right where we should be. Few of Oberon's people or the clan ever
come this far. We should be safe for tonight, at least." He approached the hut with the relaxed
air of someone who had finally come home.
        It was as eclectic as any bird's nest. Rosanna spotted bamboo, saplings from which the
budding branches had been stripped, great flat fronds, and interwoven evergreen in the
construction of its walls and roof. It was raised a few feet off the ground by sturdy stilts. There
were wide windows to catch the breeze, with billowing curtains held back by colorful bands. A
covered porch stretched the length of the front wall, and the door was closed off by a heavier
curtain with weights at the bottom to keep it from flapping.
        Inside, it was clean and very comfortable. Low furniture well-suited to the gargoyle form,
Guatamalan art and artifacts hanging on the walls, mats made of reeds in different colors and
textures scattered across the floor, bright ceramic bowls just begging to be filled with tasty fruit,
and a large bed with four slender and intricately-carved posts supporting a swag of sheer linen.
        Rosanna glanced from the bed to Rain and felt a quick flutter of anticipation. Tonight was
the night. Mates at last. After everything that had happened -- from the first night he tended her
injuries after a Rokkan attack through the apocalyptic war that had summoned strangers from
other worlds than this, through a long year of restoration in Manhattan -- they finally had the
chance to pledge their devotion to each other.
        As he worked to set right a few things that had gotten in disarray around the hut -- a
curtain rod fallen askew, a patch of roofing fronds that drooped only half-attached over the
makeshift kitchen -- she admired the purposeful flex of his muscles beneath his yellow-gold skin.
He was too tall for the hut, but somehow, perhaps because of years of familiarity, he managed to
instinctively duck whenever his head came close to one of the rafters. So very tall. In her
gargoyle form, she only reached the middle of his chest; as a human, she would be no bigger
than a child beside him.
        He turned toward her as if feeling the warm touch of her gaze and shook his mass of
coarse black hair back from the horns that sprouted from his temples. "What?"
        "Just looking." A small grin curved her mouth. "For now."
        "Is that so?"
        "But you know what? I think I'm getting tired of just looking." She drifted closer, noting
the hesitant-yet-eager light in his eyes. She reached out slowly with one hand, resting it on his
sternum, liking the way her hue contrasted yet blended with his, the colors of deep twilight and
the last golden slanting rays of the sun.
        "Rosanna ..." he swallowed thickly and covered her hand with his own.
        "It's why we're here, isn't it? To become mates ... to become one."
        His grip tightened. "Mates," he agreed.
        "So there's no point being shy with each other."
        "No."
        "We've waited a long time, wanted this a long time."
        He nodded as if he didn't trust himself to speak.
        "When we get back to Manhattan, we can celebrate with the clan. But for now, you and I
are all that matter." She slid her other hand behind his neck and pulled his head down. Their lips
met with an urgent hunger, the pendants trapped between them glowing intensely. His free arm
encircled her waist.
        She uncaped her wings and brought them forward around his broad shoulders. He
responded by extending his own, their full span nearly touching the walls on both sides of the
hut, and then enfolding her in their leathery-velvety embrace.
        "Something's poking me," she murmured against his mouth. He tensed, and she laughed
softly. "No, my love, it's all these pouches you've got hanging from your belt that I mind. Any ...
any other sort of poking isn't at all unwelcome."
        "Maybe I should take off the belt," he said huskily.
        "No, maybe I should." She put words to deed, undoing the buckle and tossing the belt
in the general direction of a stool. His loincloth fell away, and Rosanna snuggled close, covering
his chest with kisses, reaching behind him to caress the sensitive inner seams of his wingjoints.
        Rain gasped in a breath, released it in a low groan. He clenched a fistful of her hair and
drew her head back with gentle roughness to deliver a searing kiss. His palm moved in a circular
rubbing motion just over the base of her tail.
        The melting sensation of building desire spread out through Rosanna's limbs. She
surrendered to it with joyful abandon, her senses filled with the pleasures of her mate.
        Wanting nothing keeping them apart, even the flimsiest of clothing, she shed her
garments all without breaking their kiss, never quite sure how she managed it though she would
later find her top in shreds. When she moved against him again, she could feel the hard proof of
his passion as a solid length pressed along her stomach, the end of it caught just beneath her
breasts.
        Their fingers, their lips, their tails were all over each other. She got behind him and
nibbled a path of delicious torture from his wing talon to the small of his back, the thick column
of his tail held firmly between her thighs, her hands reaching around to find a thick column of
another sort, her own arousal heightened by the way tremors shook his frame -- that he, one of
the largest and strongest gargoyles she'd ever known, could be rendered nearly helpless by her
touches, filled her with a secret satisfaction that only females knew. It let her set her own need
aside for the moment, let her revel in her power.
        A strangled roar announced that her ministrations had become too much for him, that he
couldn't wait a moment longer. He pulled away from her and turned, so afire that his eyes
flickered. Holding her around the waist, he lifted her until she was at his eye level, then lowered
her.
        "Yes!" Rosanna cried, twining her legs around him, pushing down with her hips insistently
when she realized he was struggling to go slowly out of fear of hurting her. She envisioned a
sudden shaft of golden light penetrating a dark room, revealing hidden treasures and filling that
room with a glorious warmth.
        He held her, she rode him, until it seemed his legs would buckle. Without losing a stroke,
he made it to the bed and they fell atop it, him beneath and her above, the bedframe creaking
and shuddering.
        Rain was shouting her name again and again, she didn't think he even knew he was
saying it aloud. His claws dug into her hips as he pulled her down with even swifter rhythms than
before. His eyes, which had been flickering, now began to blaze. His thrusts became more rapid
and fierce, triggering her climax. She shrieked in affirmation and pleasure, hungrily continuing her
movements even after he'd stopped, wanting to wring every last drop of delight from their first
passionate encounter.
        At last, sated, she laid her head on his chest and listened to the slowing thunder of his
heartbeat. He brought his wings up to cover her like a blanket, not without some shaky difficulty,
she was smugly pleased to observe. Their tails coiled lazily together, and Rosanna exhaled in a
purring sigh of utter contentment.

  *  *

        Every last inch of his body was so relaxed he could barely move.
        Still, Rain managed to nudge his mate with his elbow. "Rosanna."
        "Mmmmm?" She was face-down in the pillows, the luscious curve of her back lightly
coated in a sheen of perspiration.
        "Almost dawn."
        "We have time for fourths?"
        He chuckled weakly. "Dream on; even if we did have the time, I doubt we'd have the
energy."
        She tried to raise her head, let it waver for a second, then dropped it back down. "You
may be right."
        "But I don't want to spend the day flat on my back."
        "I wouldn't mind," she said. She moved the outflung arm that had been draped across
him, letting her fingers walk a little lower.
        "Tonight," he promised, bringing those fingers to his mouth and kissing them one by one.
Then, with a whole-body moan, he sat up and swung his legs over the side.
        The floor was a lot higher than he recalled ... "We broke the bed?"
        "Is that what that crash was?"
        "What crash?"
        "You must not have been paying attention." She rolled over, taking up his vacated side of
the grass-stuffed mattress. And speaking of grass, the seams had split and dried blades had
puffed out in a corona around the bed.
        "We're lucky we didn't break the stilts that hold the house up," he said.
        "How do you know we didn't?"
        He fanned her with his wings, and she stretched with a sensual catlike grace that almost
made him re-think whether or not he had the energy. But no, dawn was too close, they didn't
need to end their first night as mates caught in an awkward position.
        As he dressed, Rosanna finally got out of bed. Upon discovering that her top hadn't
survived, she dug a spare one out of her bag and was just about to put it on when a high, clear
voice rang out.
        "Come out, Killer, it's time to face the music!"
        Rain froze, then whirled toward the door with fists bunched. "It's them!"
        Rosanna struggled into her clothes. "Who? Do you know them?"
        "No, I never knew any of his Court. You stay here, and --"
        "What?" she cut in, eyes narrowing into angry slits. "Don't you dare tell me to stay here
and hide while you go out there!"
        "You could escape --"
        She buckled her belt with a decisive snap, her mother's detective badge flashing in the
diffuse moonlight. "To hell with that, Rain! We're in this together, remember, didn't what I said
mean anything to you?"
        "We're waiting, Killer!" the voice called, bright merriment over a hateful edge. "You've
got ten seconds, and then we'll be more than happy to annihilate that hovel of yours and all
within it."
        "I hear you!" Rain barked, more aggravated than afraid. And more afraid for his mate's
safety than his own. "Rosanna, please ..."
        "If they were here to kill you, they'd have waited an hour or destroyed the place without
a warning," she said.
        "Or they want to make a public spectacle of my death," he argued sourly. "Entertainment's
a rare and prized thing here on oh-so-dreary Avalon."
        "Time's up, Killer!"
        "We're coming out!" Rosanna yelled. She marched to the door and raked the curtain
aside. Rain had no choice but to go after her.
        He descended the steps and stared into the dappled silver and shadows. "Okay, here I
am."
        "Who's the floozy?" another voice, this one gravelly and mocking, chimed in.
        "An accomplice," the first speaker announced with grim delight, moving into view. He
didn't look like much, six feet of skinny with a willow-green complexion and sunshine-yellow hair,
but Rain's gut tightened at the sight of him. "She'll have to come with us. I am Leodwyn,
deputized by Oberon himself to take you into custody."
        More of the fae sneaks faded out of the underbrush and regarded the gargoyle pair with
expressions ranging from loathing to indifference.
        "On what charge?" Rosanna demanded.
        "Murder," a female pixie, Barbie-with-butterfly-wings, said flatly.
        "She's not a part of this," Rain interrupted.
        "If you're involved, so am I," she said.
        "How suh-weeeeet!" the gravelly voice chortled, its owner now revealed as a lumpy
warty troll bristling with burnt-orange hair. "Doesn't it just make you want to puh-yuuuuuke!"
        Leodwyn glared scathingly at the troll, then turned his attention to Rain. "Foolish of you
to come back, you know. Now you'll be brought to face your fate. Lord Oberon and Lady Titania
await you."
        "What fate?" Rosanna demanded.
        The beautiful little pixie dragged her forefinger across her throat and made an illustrative
sound, her picture-perfect features contorted into a cruel leer.
        "Or," said Leodwyn, "you could resist, and we can finish this personally. I would very
much like that chance."
        "I did what I had to do," Rain protested.
        "You killed them. You killed her." The emphasis on that last word said it all; for
Leodwyn, it was personal as well as business.
        Rain sighed. It was true, he had, and no matter of explaining would justify it as far as
Leodwyn was concerned. How would he feel if someone, no matter how necessary they
believed their actions to be, took Rosanna's life?
        "We'll hear what Oberon has to say," Rosanna said.
        A centaur and a bald man whose skin was entirely covered in fine scales came forth with
lengths of rope, approaching the mates with caution. The centaur in particular, a proud-featured
brute, looked like he almost wished Rain would try something and give him an excuse to kick
and trample.
        "That's not necessary," Rain said.
        "The pendants. Remove them," a woman ordered. She was a striking figure of sinister
glamour, and her voice held the coldness of the darkness between stars. "And any other magical
items you carry."
        "No." Rosanna locked gazes with her, their wills clashing like swords. "You have our word
we won't try to escape."
        "There'ssss no where for you to go anyway," the scaled man said, his forked tongue
flicking. "We've ssssunk your boat."
        Rain caught a glimpse of his mate's face out of the corner of his eye and concern set in.
He knew that look. That was the look that said she was about to lose what little grasp she had on
her temper. The near-legendary temper she had inherited from her father.
        The fae sensed it too, and the sinister woman reacted first. She pointed at Rosanna,
barked an unfamiliar word, and a pencil-thin beam of black light shot from her forefinger. When it
struck, Rosanna went rigid, then collapsed. Her eyes were still open and aware, but she was
utterly paralyzed.
        Rain started to go to her, but the centaur shoved a bronze shortsword at him. Then,
when he had Rain's attention, he jerked the blade sideways and down, indicating that Rain
should stand still like a good boy and cooperate with being bound.
        Although his every instinct cried out against it, he stayed put and let them tie his wrists.
The flying Barbie doll swooped in and rummaged through his belt pouches, disdaining his packets
of herbal remedies and medicines, collecting the various magical trinkets he carried. These, she
deposited at the feet of the sorceress, who scooped them up as if tending to a mess made by a
dog, and dumped them into a small bag.
        They tied Rosanna next, and picked up her limp body to drape it across the muscular
back of the centaur. Her eyes were vivid with fury, but she couldn't move, couldn't even speak.
        "I tell you, she's not a part of this!" Rain said to Leodwyn.
        "That is for Lord Oberon to decide." He waved his hand, and a long slim sword appeared
in it. He jabbed Rain in the back, right near the wing joint, almost hard enough to draw blood.
       "Now, walk, or be skewered."
        They proceeded out of the transplanted section of the Green and into a meadow. By the
time they were halfway across, the spell on Rosanna had begun to wear off, but she had gotten
control of herself and didn't struggle. By the time they were all the way across, at the foot of a
path that wound up a rock-strewn slope and into the faintly shimmering woods, she was able to
walk on her own, bound, beside Rain.
        The centaur stayed close behind them both, ready and willing to act if either of them
showed any signs of being up to something. Leodwyn led the way, well out of reach and
practically strutting, though his attitude also seemed slightly miffed, as if he'd rather have been
allowed to deal with Rain himself. The rest of their captors flanked them, watchful.
        The mystic, unearthly radiance of Oberon's castle colored the heavens, and as they drew
closer, they could hear the flutelike music that emanated from the very stones themselves.
        The guards at the gate -- stern-featured elven warriors in shining gilt mail -- drew back
their halberds to let the group pass. A ripple effect of silence fell as they proceeded down the
long hallway leading to Oberon's throne room, with idly-chatting fae turning to stare, then trailing
after.
        Rain hadn't been afraid, but as the great doors swung open to reveal the cathedral-
ceilinged room with its pillars of marble and floor of luminescent crystal, he felt the first stirrings
of genuine dread.
        The fairy music came to a discordant halt as they were led inside. Gods and monsters,
myths and legends, sprites and devils and more, regarded him with knowing interest. There were
a few gargoyles present, not many as it was now quite close to daybreak. Members of the Avalon
Clan. Lina was not among them, thankfully; she had departed this world with her new mate,
seeking a home in his dimension.
        Rain's talons sank into the plush sky-blue carpet that extended from the doors to the
raised dais where the two thrones gleamed and sparkled. An imperial azure-skinned man,
Oberon, dispassionately watched the prisoners and their captors approach. A woman sat beside
him, doubtless his queen, Titania.
        At the foot of the dais was a familiar figure, and Rain knew by Rosanna's indrawn breath
that she saw him too. Black leather jacket, blue jeans, dark hair tousled by the wind, coppery
skin, handsome hawklike features. But his usual sardonic smirk was absent, and that more than
anything made Rain's spirits drop further.
        The silence stretched out unbearably. Finally, steepling his fingers before his aristocratic
face, Oberon spoke. "So you are Rain."
        A little politeness never hurt. Rain inclined his head. "Lord Oberon."
        "You've been a naughty boy."
        "I know what I did."
        Oberon arched one white brow. "No words of defense? No pleas for mercy?"
        Rain shrugged and met Oberon's eyes earnestly. "I was doing my father's bidding.
Following my destiny."
        "He was avenging the first murder," Coyote cut in. "Your three witches killed a
gargoyle. Rain was an instrument of justice, on behalf of his mother's clansman."
        "I dispense justice on Avalon," Oberon said haughtily. "And you, Coyote, damaged
your own credibility when you tried to separate yourself from this Court. You're hardly a good
character witness."
        "I've explained that --" Coyote began, but Oberon overrode him.
        "Yes, that you left this Court for the purpose of plotting your revenge against the Sisters.
One might even go so far as to wonder whether you seduced the defendant's mother and
conceived this witless young gargoyle solely as a tool for that revenge."
        "That's not how it was!" Coyote nearly snarled.
        Oberon waved a hand dismissively. "That's beside the point, and not the issue here. I
shall deal with him first, and then decide if I need deal with you. Take them to the
dungeons. Separately; it's supposed to be a punishment, after all."
        As Rain and Rosanna were led from the room, they heard Coyote's desperate arguments
begin anew.

  *  *

        Rosanna, or Rose as she preferred to be called once dawn had changed her to her
human form, sat up when she heard footsteps coming closer. Times like this, she wished she
could sleep, the better to pass the long hours of her confinement. Instead, she had her own
bleak thoughts for constant company.
        She was in a dungeon cell that was really only a dungeon cell by virtue of being
subterranean, windowless, and having a straw-strewn floor and a wooden door with a barred
window in the center. The other things her mind wanted to associate with dungeons -- rats,
stench, dank moisture, filth, and a pair of rusted manacles complete with skeleton -- were not to
be found.
        A torch which burned with unnatural white fire was in the hall just outside her door, so
she was able to see fairly well, until the footsteps stopped and the shadow of a man blotted out
some of the light.
        "Rose."
        "Coyote!" She got up from the blanket-covered bale of straw that had been serving as a
cot and went to the window. "What's happened? Have they finished?"
        He shook his head. "Oberon won't deliver his verdict until after sunset."
        "Then what is it? What are you doing here?"
        "I came to see you," he said, sounding vaguely hurt. "Is there anything wrong with that?
And to offer my congratulations. You and Rain make a fine couple. I always knew you would."
        "Why did you do this to him? Why did you build his whole life toward fighting the Weird
Sisters, and then let it all come to this?"
        "I've already explained his destiny to you."
        "But is this his destiny? To die for doing what you wanted him to do? How can you
stand there and tell me what a cute couple we are when it could all be over by tonight? After all
we've been through, is that all we accomplished? To die together? Or, if Oberon lets me live,
then I'll be alone, my happiness ended just when it's barely begun, without even a child to
remember my mate by!"
        "Do you think I don't know all that?" he said, agonized. "I never wanted anything but the
best for either of you. He's my son; that does mean something to me."
        "I can't let him be gone forever. Coyote, tell me, and no lies, no tricks, no misdirections
... can I bear him children?"
        "Not without magical help," he admitted heavily.
        "And could you provide the magical help?"
        "Rosie --" at her stern look, he corrected himself. "Rose, you don't know what you're
asking."
        "Yes, I do."
        "Look at what happened to your mother. I helped your parents conceive you, and your
mother almost died in childbirth. Thanks to my interference. I don't want to risk that again."
        "Not even for the sake of your own grandchildren?"
        "Stop, it makes me feel old."
        She would not be dissuaded by his jokes. "If Rain has to be executed because of what
he's done for you, then at least part of him deserves to live on. Besides, what about me? I am
the last, Coyote."
        He winced. "I know --"
        "And you gave yourself the duty of looking after my family. If I never have children, poof!
So much for the bloodline."
        "Same thing would happen if you died in childbirth," he pointed out.
        "Same thing would happen if Oberon decides to give me the death sentence, too. But by
trying to have children, I would at least have a chance. Don't you owe us that much?"
        He massaged his forehead. "It's really pointless to be discussing this now."
        "Tell me a better time," she challenged.
        "You've only just become mates; are you sure you want to rush right into starting a
family?"
        "Quit trying to dodge it!" she snapped, sticking her hand between the bars to seize the
James Dean upturned collar of his jacket. "You know your responsibilities, here! Father-in-law!"
        He winced again. "Father-in-law? Ouch!"
        "No, ouch is when I pull you nose-first into these iron bars," she said seriously.
        "I never thought you'd stoop to physical bullying to prove your point."
        "I haven't even started."
        "Okay, okay, I'll think about it. All right?"
        "Not good enough."
        "Fine! You win! I'll do my part ... but I can't guarantee that Oberon will be merciful. Or
even that he'll grant the last request you'd need to make a go of it."
        She released him. "Thank you. It may not work out, but thank you for trying."

  *  *

        "Rosanna! Are you all right?"
        She smiled at him, a worried smile and a sad smile but one that lifted his heart all the
same. If it was to be the last thing he ever saw, well, he could do worse.
        By now, word of this 'trial' had spread over all of Avalon. Gargoyles and fae alike had
come from all corners of the island to hear Oberon's decree. The throne room was packed and
buzzing with expectant conversations. By what he could hear, Rain knew that most of them were
expecting the same thing he was -- quick trial, and up the rope.
        Even in her visible trepidation, there was a wistful air about Rosanna that didn't go along
with the court proceedings. She came to him and they grasped hands, no longer bound, no
longer under guard. What, realistically, could either of them do in a chamber packed standing-
room-only with some of the most powerful creatures ever to have walked the earth?
        A fanfare of seraphic trumpets heralded the appearance of Oberon and Titania. The lord
and lady of Avalon proceeded regally to their thrones, attended by flitting fairies and prancing
fauns tootling on pipes. Though they must have seen it countless times before, the assemblage
murmured in appreciation of the pageantry.
        Sweeping his cloak behind him in a grand gesture, Oberon took his seat.
        "We have reviewed this case," he announced imperiously, "and we have reached our
decision. The gargoyle Rain is guilty of the destruction of three of Avalon's own, but extenuating
circumstances have made this a justifiable, if not excusable, crime. Therefore, it is the decision of
this court that Rain will not be put to death --"
        Here a startled gasp swept the spectators and defendants alike.
        "-- and neither shall his mate, Rosanna. But, since by becoming his mate, she has
voluntarily agreed to share in all aspects of his life, so too must she acquiesce to the punishment
laid forth by this Court. Let it be known that the gargoyles Rain and Rosanna may live out their
lives as destiny intends --" here he paused to glance dourly at Coyote, who was in the first row
of the audience wearing a cautiously hopeful expression, "-- and be free from any and all
retribution for the events that led to their presence here." this time his glance was sternly
directed at Leodwyn. "However, they are hereby restricted to this island from this day forth."
        Rosanna's claws bit into Rain's hand as her fingers convulsed into a fist. "What?!"
        "You are never to leave Avalon," Oberon told her.
        A small, pained sound issued from her throat. "My clan ... they're all the family I have
left! You can't separate me from them forever!"
        Oberon took on a posture of boredom and extended a hand to Titania. "Come, my
queen. I would find some other amusement." Titania obligingly rose from her throne, and the two
of them prepared to depart.
        "You may as well have killed me!" Rosanna shouted. "Don't keep me from my family!"
        Rain took her by the shoulders as she was about to go after them. "Rosanna, it's all right.
It's not as bad as it sounds."
        All around them, the fae were following their lord and lady's example. The rest of the
gargoyles, the Avalon Clan, appeared engaged in a fiery debate amongst themselves.
        "What am I going to do?" she cried in anger and despair.
        "We'll make the best of it. We have each other, beloved, always each other."
        "Each other ... and maybe ..." she glanced at Coyote, "... more ... but what will I do
without my Clan?"
        With a whoosh of wings, two gargoyles landed near them. One was a well-built and quite
handsome male with dark golden-tan skin and white hair. The other was a plumpish, pretty pink-
hued female.
        "Your clan and ours are related," the male said with a winning smile. "Join us."
        "You'd be most welcome," the female added. "This is Corwin, I'm Miriam. Please join our
clan."
        "You'd accept us, even after what I did?" Rain asked, astounded.
        "Frankly, old boy," Corwin said, lowering his voice and winking at Rain, "you did the
world a favor when you got rid of those moon-witches. They should have given you a medal for
it."
        "I was thinking we'd go back to the hut, at best ..."
        "Oh, no, we wouldn't hear of it!" Miriam insisted. She hugged Rosanna. "I know it must
be awful, never seeing your own clan again, but I promise you, it really won't be so horrible here.
Most of our rookery siblings are quite pleasant."
        "There are a few stinkers," Corwin confided, "but that's something most clans have to put
up with, I'm sure."
        "We're together, Rosanna," Rain said. "Like we pledged to be."
        "And I said I would share your destiny, no matter where it took you," she sighed. "You're
right ... as long as we are together, that's what really matters."
        Hand in hand, they let Corwin and Miriam lead them to meet their new clan.

  *  *

The End.

Credits:
Oberon, Titania, Avalon, and the Weird Sisters -- property of legend, partly of William
Shakespeare, and by extension, of the creators of Gargoyles.
Coyote -- property of Native American mythos, and by extension, the creators of Gargoyles
Rain, Rosanna, and Lina -- created by Don "Coyote the Bando" Martinez
Leodwyn, the other fae (including those who might seem familiar to players from the GURPS
game at the Gathering), Corwin, and Miriam -- created by Christine Morgan