Love, unwanted.

I walked in near darkness, to a place I knew well, but with a purpose that was new to me. My task was simple, I had a message to deliver, simple and short, a few words, but the time was short, I knew I had little of the day left.

The sun was close to setting, its remaining rays of light barely guiding my way through the nearly empty streets. Not a single torch burned anywhere in this part of the city.

Most of the people who lived here abided by the ways of my people and the ones who did not, they knew enough to be discreet. For now.

Later, some few, made brave by drink or desire, might dare to walk the streets, to risk the perils of this night, but even they would not wish to call attention to themselves by carrying a beacon to reveal their presence.

Plates of spiced sweets and cups of sugared milk were left on the thresholds of every building I passed, but even with the hunger in my belly, I knew to ignore the offered temptation. I had to reach my destination before the world plunged into darkness.

It was hard though, even when I reached the one I sought, the stairs were laden with assorted items, little twisted knots of string, scattered beads of colored glass, even puzzling riddles written on scraps of paper. Clever traps to bedevil the unwelcome.

I walked carefully to avoid disturbing them, lest they would fail in their purpose, and there was hardly more than a tiny sliver of the day left to me before I came to a door on the uppermost floor.

A garland of pink flowers hanging from the lintel offered a fragrant greeting as I prepared to knock. It was a message, on another night, it would be an alluring enticement, but on this one, it served as a warning that would have the wise running in fear.

Three times I struck the door, rapping with my knuckles, waiting for it to open, just a crack, and listening for the words of greeting.

“Who comes?” spoke the voice within, one I dreaded enough to chill my blood.

Repeating the question twice more, each time was harder on my ears.

I had to take a deep breath and almost choked on the mixed scents of the flowers and my own lingering perfume.

“I come, I come, I come,” I spoke in ritual chant, “To tell you, that your child is no more.”

The door opened fully then, and even in the dim light remaining, I could tell that a beautiful woman stood before me, dressed in the fine silks, face painted, golden hair woven with more of the pink flowers.

Only faint traces of tears showed to mar her appearance, a small sign that perhaps she’d been afraid she would remain alone tonight.

“Enter and be loved,” she said, the words allowing me to go inside, carefully stepping past her as she stood aside.

She grabbed at me sooner than I expected, taking me in a tight embrace, and pressing eager kisses at my face. She even began to pull at my robe, trying to remove it herself.

“No, please, please, no, stop,” I begged, trying to escape her clutching grasp, not wanting her hugs, let alone the caresses of her lips or for her to strip away my clothing.

She pulled back, reluctant to comply with my wishes, disappointed that I did not want the tender touches she gave me. She pulled down the garland of flowers in a swift yank, then shut the door, leaving us together in the darkness of a windowless room.

I couldn’t see her face, not anymore. I knew how she was looking at me even before I heard her sigh.

“I come to you, initiated into mysteries of her Awesome Majesty.”

A slap struck my face. I couldn’t duck the blow. I was barely fast enough to grab at her hand.

“Don’t lie to me. Tell me you didn’t go to the temple. Tell me you ran off with your friends instead. Tell me you missed the bells. Tell me you were too late. Tell me anything.”

I held onto her despite how it made me feel to touch her skin.

“Please mother, please believe me, I was there. I took the blessing.”

“You’re still a child, you’re my child. I can tell. You’re not ready.”

“I am born of your womb, mother, and always will be. I am old enough to make my own choices. Even if you don’t approve of them. Even if you want me to be someone else.”

“I want what’s best for you, I know I’ve hurt you before, but I have always wanted what’s best for you, you’re mine and always will be, and if you’re not prepared for what will happen at the Mustering then you’ll be hurt even more.“

“I know what to expect, mother. You’ve told me often enough. How it went for you. What you had to do.”

I released her from my grip, and she touched me again, finding my cheek in the darkness, it still stung where she had struck me, but this hurt more.

“Knowing from the story isn’t the same as knowing for yourself. Please, let me help you.”

“Not that way mother, I can’t serve that way.”

I pulled away from her, unable to stand the closeness. Angry how she kept pushing at me, no matter how much pain I felt, she wouldn’t, couldn’t stop.

I stumbled through the darkness to my sleeping pad. I wasn’t tired, not even close, but she might leave me alone if I pretended to sleep.

I found something waiting on my pillow. My fingers felt a velvety smoothness of fine fabric, and I knew it was a robe to match hers.

“I got that for you, I thought you’d like it,” she said as I heard her sit down beside me.

She loved me too much. Only it was the me she wanted me to be that she loved.

Not the person I was.