Finding Heathcliff

Sixty-Two

Epilogue

Astrid stared at the crown she had taken off her head the moment she reached her and Azrael's bedchamber.

The simple, elegant circlet of gold set with several sapphires felt surprisingly light in her hands, too insubstantial for something so important. Because the crown adorned with several precious stones the colour of Orion's eyes, bringing a string of memories and a couple of tears in her own eyes, meant that Astrid finally became the Queen of Eurovea, the country which she loved more than herself, but not more than Azrael.

She smiled, placing the crown on the small round table next to their bed. Why was Michael keeping him so long? There was no way she could undo all the hooks, buttons and laces keeping the heavy gown she had been forced to wear for the coronation from falling off her alone, and she had refused the help of her maids, wanting him to do it...

Astrid sighed, summoning patience. She knew that Azrael would be kept forever busy by Michael, who, despite having found Polaris, the love of his existence, couldn't keep still and happily inactive for long.

The world was a huge place and there was always something somewhere to sort out, he had told Astrid when she had begged him to leave Azrael in peace for a little longer, upon their return from their year long journey. But her father wouldn't listen to her, the Angel of Death had been idle for too long, and if he left him in his daughter's hands, he would become lazy and spoilt.

Astrid giggled remembering those words as she picked one of the two glasses of wine a maid had left for her and Azrael on a silver tray, took a sip and put it down again before she made her way towards the tall, arched window.

The view was wonderful. Twilight bathed the world outside in shy pastel hues, making it look softer, gentler, more beautiful, and peaceful. But it was only an illusion, Astrid knew well now. Even though Azrael had chosen the places he had made her visit during the year with care, showing her the safest and most perfect spots, she had managed to get glimpses of places filled with sadness, poverty and fear. She opened the window, letting the roar of the waterfall spill inside the room-- the loud, dangerous sound produced by the hungry current that would take everything away without giving anything in return made the picture look more realistic. 

She let her mind stroll back to the journey, recalling the partly submerged rests of London, the huge ship and the steam trains that took them to New Paris after Azrael refused to travel in a hot air balloon, Prague, whose landlocked position protected and preserved its ancient beauty, the wonderfully wild Americas, and the islands, thousands of island which once used to be cities, countries, continents, mostly ruled by humans of demon origin nowadays, places that she knew from geography books and novels.

Each place was unique, and each, even the smallest ones, used more technology than Eurovea. And Astrid would change that, she thought yet again, searching the folds of her gown for the pocket hiding the thick notebook she had brought for her journey, filled with observations, ideas and improvements she resolved to apply in her country, if the people of Eurovea chose her as their new queen.

They had found a few people related to Arcturus' family, Michael informed her upon her return a few days ago, but none wanted to take the throne, not in the times when Eurovea was left in the hands of the board of councillors presided by Lord Alistair, and Archangel Michael, who paid the castle often visits and kept a close eye on the country in his daughter's absence. No one cared to rule a country where fallen angels were treated as well as any human, and better than those who stubbornly insisted on their descent from, and loyalty to humans of demon origin.

And so, Astrid was a queen, and Azrael would become her king, tomorrow, after the wedding...

Azrael's doves flew in through the open window, surprising her, announcing their master's imminent arrival. She smiled, hearing the door open and close silently behind her, the scent of burning incense reaching her where she stood by the window muddling her thoughts. He wasn't thrilled about becoming the King of Eurovea, but he would do it for her...

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she felt Azrael's arm wrap around her waist from behind and she relaxed into him, enjoying the way his heart started to beat faster each time they were this close, and the soft caress of his wings encasing her into him.

She loved him, she loved him more than herself, more than anything, than anyone...

"I love you more," he whispered in reply to her thoughts, pressing his lips to her temple.

She giggled, letting him lift her up and carry her to bed.

"Please, take the thing off me, it's so heavy," she said as he set her on her feet, giggling again at his playfully raised eyebrows before she turned away from him, pulling her loose hair over her left shoulder, revealing the infinity of buttons and hooks on her back.

Azrael set to work immediately, each opened hook and loosened ribbon followed by a kiss, making Astrid bite her lower lip in anticipation of what would follow. No matter how often they were together this way, she couldn't get enough of him.

"I have a wedding present for you," Azrael whispered a long time later, pulling a sheet over Astrid's back where she lay next to him on the bed, before he let his fingers stroll to her hair, pushing the confusion of golden curls from her face to be able to see her eyes.

"You should give it to me tomorrow," she muttered, too tired to move.

"It is tomorrow. Why, it's well after midnight," he smiled, producing a small parcel from beneath the sheets.

Its shape got Astrid's full attention-- it was small enough to be a book, and she could never refuse a book... She sat up, wrapping a sheet around herself, then pushing her hair from her face before she reached for the present.

"Please?" she begged as he pulled it away from her teasingly a couple of times.

"I love you, Astrid, I will always love you," he pledged as she unwrapped the mysterious parcel, her breath catching at the sight of a copy Wuthering Heights.

It was the first edition, written under Emily Brotë's pseudonym Ellis Bell, published in eighteen forty-seven, in London, when the city still existed in all its glory.

"I will always love you, Azrael, "she said, clutching the book to her chest, looking at him seriously, even though she was still too young to know with certainty if she would be able to fulfill it.

But she didn't mind, not really; she had had enough time to realise that even one human lifetime spent at Azrael's side was more than she deserved. If she were to start ageing later, so be it. The thought that he would stay with her nonetheless, and when her time to leave him would arrive, he would be around for their children, and their children's children, was all that she needed to feel happy.