around my bones {h.s. au}

i have buried you in every place i've ever been

"i know history. there are many names in history but none of them are ours."

-richard silken

Their story begins in a village by the sea. Small homes built along the cliffs. Surrounded by the sea and fields and sky. Life had always been simple. Harvest season came and passed. Winter came and everyone tucked away into their homes. And then came the warm months –bringing with it the sun and the sea and the travelers on their white sailed ships. They brought goods and stories and men from the furthest corners of the empire and sometimes beyond. The village was the same as every other village dotting along the coast. Except, it wasn't.

There was a woman, because with any good story there is always a woman. Beautiful and with four daughters more stunning than the last. Their names swept through the village like wildfire. Often spoken in fear. Because that which the world did not understand bred fear. And a woman without need of a man was a terrifying thing.

Herbs hung from the woman's windows and dark hair floated down to her waist. Despite any fears the people came to her. Their worries and pains. All soothed by the woman's wicked grin and hands gifted by the gods. Until the warm months began, and the woman vanished.

The four daughters brought herbs to the market and laughed and smiled and braided their hair with yellow flowers. Rumors spun through the village of where the woman had gone. Those who had let fear rot in their hearts to hate spat out the woman had returned to whatever hell molded her. Others, who came to the woman with belief and knowledge of the old ways, simply believed she had returned to the gods. Many speculated the woman had merely gone to be with a man, perhaps the one who had given her so many children.

The daughters heard these tales and smiled the same wicked grin. For they knew their mother had returned to the sea which had born her. But what the woman truly was and what she did is of little importance to the story. Her tale was not one of a woman who had begged or wept or suffered, so the world had little need of it. No, of all the woman's stories and of those of her children, it was the youngest –a girl named Lena who was destined to have her story told across lands and time.

So, shall we begin? 

496 A.D.

The first time they meet is in the middle of the village, under the stars. Lena spinning wildly around the flames. Hair flying around and dress sweeping along the ground. Yellow flowers her sisters had delicately woven into Lena's braid lay strewn around her feet. 

Her world tilts as she stops before him. Lena knew him for what he was, the moment her eyes meet his. Traveler. One of the men who come with the ships twice a year, bringing wonders from worlds Lena has never known. He kneels at Lena's feet, plucking one of the yellow flowers from the ground. Gently brushing the dirt off the petals as he tucks it back into Lena's hair.

"Beautiful." He whispers, hand grazing the side of Lena's face.

Before anything else, Lena notices his eyes. Like the sea after a storm blows through. When everything is cleared away, leaving nothing but the pale blues and greens swirling together.

People dance around them, not noticing the two standing frozen by the fire. Lena gathers her white dress in one hand and with the other, reaches towards him. Moon high in the sky above them, casting everything it touches with an orange glow. They spin madly together, cheeks flushed from the heat and the cups laid scattered on the ground.