The Ballad of Romance

Epilogue

A sapphire peahen, with a smoky quartz crest and eyes, followed behind her making shrill chirping sounds, trying to catch her attention. Guinevere smiled at her, shaking her head.
"Not now, Smocach. I'm busy."
The peahen shrieked at her, tugging at Guinevere's vestire. Smocach felt herself being pulled along as Guinevere continued her walk through one of the many halls in the Società di Uccisore. She huffed and trotted ahead, standing in front of Guinevere and fluffing her feathers in an attempt to make herself look bigger.
"Fine. What's the problem?" laughed Guinevere, bending down to help smooth Smocach's crystal feathers.
I saw your Athair at the reception, Caraid. He is trying to send for you. I believe there was a young lady with him also.
"Mhac na galla," Guinevere cursed. "'Course he'd come back and check in on his amazing daughter who's now engaged to the Head of the Societa. 'Course he would come to see me after he disowned me..."
Smocach trilled, fluffing her feathers again. She danced around Guinevere, catching her attention. Guinevere smiled at her, sitting on the lush carpet and stroking the peahen.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I just. I haven't seen him in years and Crissy is out surveying some damage to the outer walls of the city." Guinevere stopped petting Smocach for a moment. "At least you'll be by my side."
Always, Caraid.
Guinevere followed Smocach down the many halls inside the Società di Uccisore. The peahen wove her way through, trotting along with a spring in her step, excited about everything. Guinevere sighed. If she didn't follow along, Smocach would stop and wait for her, making shrill calls until Guinevere started following again.
"Why can't they just say I was out in the countryside somewhere, subduing Mostri. I need to get used to this bloody instrument anyways." Guinevere tapped the Viola strap with her finger.
Now that the Captino was gone, Tess and Tyler had guided each of the Musicisti, old and new, to the Salla della Musica to receive their own Strumenti. However, that meant that some of the older Musicisti had trouble adjusting to, sometimes foreign, instruments they had never played before. Thankfully, Guinevere had the finger placement from her old Bangio and Crispino taught her how to pull the bow across the strings without making it scream. Crispino wasn't too far off, having a Luito as his Strumenti.
You haven't seen your father in nearly three decades. I believe he deserves a chance. A lot can change in that time. Smocach turned her head and gave, what Guinevere could swear was, a wink. She fanned her small tail feathers out, taking flight.
"Fine." She mumbled, following the peahen.

A half hour later, Guinevere stood by the turn that would lead her straight to her father. She was so close that she could hear him talking with a lady. Guinevere stiffened, turning to Smocach beside her.
"I. I can't do it. He's right there but what am I supposed to say? 'Hi Dadaidh. I know you haven't seen me in forever but hey i'm here now.' I already feel like an òinseach. I don't want to be one."
Smocach preened a feather absently. Honestly, Caraid. You're overthinking this too much. Just walk over there and say something. You'll know if he has ill feelings towards you.
"But that's the issue. I've been boarding myself up for so long that I feel if I pull even one board down, like the tidal wave I've been holding for so long will crash," Guinevere sighed.
Then we'll surf the wave when we get to it! Smocach jumped behind Guinevere, pushing her forward.
Guinevere felt herself fall and caught in an instant, but Smocach had already done the work. Now, Guinevere was standing in the hall with her father and the lady. They turned as Guinevere straightened herself.
Nobody moved or spoke. Guinevere could feel her hands shaking behind her back. Her father was standing in front of her, impassive as he had been when she was teenager and still in Scozia. The woman next to him was of the build as Guinevere, shared the same auburn hair and green eyes. The only difference was the clothes they wore and the roundness in the woman's face.
Guinevere cleared her throat awkwardly. "Athair. Baintighearna" She gave her father a small bow that she was taught all those years ago and a nod to the lady.
The lady ran forward, hugging Guinevere tighter than would be accepted in any formal occasion. Guinevere heard her whisper one word that made her freeze.
'Piuthar'. Sister. The lady was Guinevere's sister.
Smocach made a shrill chirp that sounded almost like a gasp, trotting up to Guinevere from behind. Guinevere held her sister at arm's length, studying her.
"Sister? How? I mean. I never knew." Guinevere looked between her father and her newly found sister.
Her sister looked up at her. "Dadaidh spoke so highly of you. We tried to find you but the Societa wouldn't disclose any information about you. It's like you were a ghost. We didn't know if you were even still in Eorpa!"
"Athair spoke highly of me? I. I abandoned my duties. I had been disowned, removed from everything that meant anything. My last name was just a placeholder." Guinevere wiped a tear away, not entirely sure how to act in this situation.
Their father walked over. His hair was nearly white, clearly showing his age and his joints clicked slightly. He held himself tall and spoke evenly.
"Mo nighean bu shine. My darling. I have waited so long to see your face again. I apologise for removing you from the family. I should have seen that you were not the one who would take over the family name. Everything Bridgette told you is true. I couldn't find you at all. I sent men to scour the lands to find any trace of you. I didn't even know if my eldest was still alive."
Guinevere watched her father's hands shake. Bridgette was crying happy tears beside, finally able to see her sister after so many years. Smocach trilled beside her, wanting some attention herself.
"And who is the peahen?" Bridgette asked, leaning down to pat the sparkling blue peafowl.
"This is Smocach."
And Guinevere was reunited with her family.

Crispino wiped his brow. Summer was definitely here. Moschetto nickered beside him, dipping his nose into a water trough. His Luito stuck to his back, sweat making his shirt cling to his skin. In front of him was a large boulder blocking a large aqueduct. Men had been trying to dislodge it for a week now and even a team of horses couldn't pull it free.
He pulled a silver pocket watch out of his pocket, a charging bull made of onyx covered the lid. It glowed sliver and a large Chianina bull, made of pure onyx, landed lightly on the ground. The bull was ginormous, its shoulders standing at the seven foot mark. Its horns were small, compared to its massive bulk, and curved slightly.
Yo Maestro. What is up-o? rapped the bull to Crispino.
Crispino shook his head, slightly amused. "Nothing much, Atlas. Just need some help with this boulder. You think you can do it?"
Crispino heard Atlas chuckle.
If I can groove it, rock can move it!
Atlas took a single step forward and lowered his head, lining himself up with the centre of the rock. He tossed his head and charged forward. He hit the boulder dead centre, bumping it out of the aqueduct and shattering it on impact. Atlas held his head high as the people near him clapped. The sun shone off his smooth backside and he walked towards Crispino.
I'm amazing, Maestro. Dontcha think so? Gloated Atlas, lowering his head to level with Crispino's.
Crispino smiled at the large black orbs for eyes, giving him a playful slap on his forehead. "You did good, Atlas. You did good."
Where is the Tyler dude? If i'm not being rude. Asked Atlas, cocking his head to the side.
"He's out somewhere out there with Tess." Crispino gestured to the horizon to the north. "He's taking her sightseeing before they settle down somewhere. Hopeful in Italia. It's a few weeks of steady riding to most places. Maybe France? Tess might want to visit some relatives.
"Either way, they're away for now. I don't know when they'll be back but they deserve the freedom. They saved the world before they turned twenty two."
Atlas nodded along, looking at the horizon. He bellowed, his call carrying over the wind.
Far far away, in a small swiss town, Giustizia and Liberta heard the call.