Autumn

[becky-spence.livejournal.com]

It’s an interesting dichotomy at the heart of our Court, and one I do not voice, not to the Paragons, not to the newest amongst us. Not to my peers, and at least half the time, not even to myself.

Autumn is the Court of Fear.

Yet the more I study how the Court came to be, how Clay Ariel made her pact with the Season, the more I wonder why. Magic is secondary to our purpose, a tool to use, so that we learn from our Fear, gain strength from it, rather than be crippled by it. Yet Clay Ariel’s deal does not seem to mention Fear. It is a deal of Magic, a Pledge to bind agreement. But the price is still unknown. Perhaps that is why we are the Court of Fear. No-one yet knows the price she paid in an attempt to grant us security.

It is one of the things I am afraid of, wondering what price she paid for us all.

Mr. Sleete occasionally displays humour, when he suggests, with a wry smile, that I would make a good Monarch of Autumn in London. I would say that he were teasing me, if it were anyone but Mr. Sleete. Him, I’m never sure if he actually understands the concept.

Fortunately it will not happen. But I am still afraid of it. The responsibilities of a Monarch. What I could do with the power that came with it.

I have played chess with the Pale Brother, inwardly screaming in fear that one wrong move could end my life, or the lives of the people I travelled with, and outwardly calm. Why, when the Pale Brother is Death, and knows the hearts and dreams of all, I do not know. He knew I was screaming, yet he too still played the game. Perhaps he respected that I still played, in spite of my fear. Perhaps he did not care. Death is beyond playing favourites, after all.

But I was afraid, and yet I wanted to make a good impression. So that perhaps, when he does claim me, I can feel I achieved something worthwhile with the time I was granted. That I will rage against the dying of the light, but accept that an end will still come in spite of that.

I have scoured Dreams, and fought the creatures that stalk them to a standstill. I have played that dread terror in the night, to leave a man sobbing and afraid to close his eyes for Fear of what he will see behind his eyes. I have travelled amongst the stars of the Dream, and crafted wonders through force of will and imagination. I have used Fear as a weapon, wielded with scalpel perfection to the parts of the psyche that others would wish to hide.

It is easy to be Afraid of the big things. It’s entirely rational to be Afraid of Them, of traitors, of the things that stalk the Hedge, or of betrayal by your own, of the destruction of Freeholds. It’s sensible to take precautions, Pledges, magic to keep yourself as safe as you can.

I am not terrifying. I am a Wizened, and I was built to be unobtrusive in the Tale. I narrate, I do not star on centre stage. I do not have the presence and looming menace of Galtharion, or the raw terror of Snaggle. I do not generate that kind of Fear in person. But I can shatter minds in Dreams, and reduce someone to a crumbling ruin of a human being.

It is much harder to be Afraid of yourself, and the power you wield.