Title:
Tara and Willow – The Blessed Unrest – Chapter Twenty-FiveAuthor: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Absolutely, yes please. That’s why I write for this place, to engage in the discussion about the story.
Spoiler warning: Not sure why I am bothering, really, but nothing much apart from the episode ‘Hush’ in S4. And let’s face it, if you’ve not seen that then… what are you doing here?
Distribution: This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens and the Kitten Board please. No conversion to eBook or other formats please. Enjoy it here.
Story notes: Tara’s background is different to that presented in Family and instead based on a throwaway remark made in interviews around the time Family first aired. (Though I now realise not the precisely terminology used there)
Summary: It’s a wedding. Tara is naked. I think we established that last time. And no, it’s not someone’s bad/sexy dream…
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc. I am making no money from this series of stories however all original characters and situations remain my property. As this is a missing scenes and alternate reality fiction lots of scenes are new versions of those seen in the show, as such dialogue and situations are taken from the show. I’m sure you can tell which. All credit for those aspects goes to the original writers.
The title ‘The Blessed Unrest’ came from and belongs to Sara Bareilles from the album of the same name.
Rating: Occasional, tasteful, adult situations and contextual bad language. However by and large equivalent to the show.
Couples: Tara and Willow forever, that’s all I’m bothered about.
Text convention: Use of
italics denotes either special emphasis if used for a single or a few words in a sentence OR first person thoughts if used for a whole sentence.
Notes: I had/have a tiny little scene with Buffy at the start of this part. If it’s immediately below, well then I guess that’s what my choice was. If it’s not… well, it would’ve been there but I clearly made a different stylistic choice. I left that right up to the point of posting to finally decide. What the scene shows/would’ve showed was Willow relating all of this to Buffy and Buffy’s shock at just one part of that (hint – not the gay part.) The reason I was back on forth on including that was because it was effectively making this into a story Willow (or Tara and Willow) were telling which I hadn’t really included so far in all this. Sure, it was nice and a cute scene (or is) but I am not sure just yet whether that’s the impression I want to give… So whatever you read below, that was my decision. Sometimes things stay or go on a whim!
Now, when I started this story, I selected the title ‘The Blessed Unrest’ due to my love for the album of the same name. On that very album was Sara Bareille’s possibly ONLY happy song. Oh, she has plenty of songs that sound happy, but when you get into the lyrics they come from another place. But, reportedly after a challenge from a fan who wanted a song he could play at his wedding, she wrote and released ‘I choose you.’
Now, I haven’t linked this story to the album as tightly as I intended to back then, the story went its own way, but here I am unashamedly going to take some of the lyrics and use them for my own purposes. Absolutely all the credit for that goes to Sara Bareilles while any of the blame for what doesn’t work goes to me.
Certainly I suggest you all go look the video up. Real couples getting engaged. Including two women (their behind the scenes stories mixed with the song – also on youtube – is unbelievably cute -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjE5D9cHiOk)
So… you can see where I’m going in this part? Right?
Oh, and finally, remember Tara’s all kinds of naked right now. That seems to be a thing I do… Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda had its own naked scene to kick things off. Can’t imagine why I keep doing that? Can you?
Thanks to: Flash forward“Whoa. Now wait. Wait just a minute,” Buffy said. “Now, I think I’ve been pretty good to this point, Will? Right? I’ve been good?”
“You’ve done really well, Buffy,” she happily agreed. Because it was true, after all. At least after she’d come around…
“Thank you. I’ve been willing to accept that you’re gay. I’ve willing to accept that you fell in love. I guess, if I accept that you’ve been away for longer than the night, then I have to be. I know how that works, I’ve been to other dimensions. So that’s all good.
“I’m even willing to accept that you got married – I’m supposed to say ‘Mozel tov’ by the way aren’t I - ?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But… Will, please. You really made your umm – co-bride, I guess I should call her that, you made her get married naked?” Buffy asked. “I’m struggling with that. I – I’m a little worried you might be bizarre-world Willow over that part, because that’s more like something she’d do.”
“Do I look like a vampire?”
“Not as skanky,” Buffy said. “But this is out of character, don’t you think?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s… weddings are about dresses. I know you think so, we had that conversation. More than once! We had magazines when I was going through that whole moping over Angel thing. But dresses, that’s the big thing. Looking beautiful and pretty in a lovely dress – and it sounds like you had one - ”
“I did.”
“So!? How could you make Tara get married naked?” Buffy demanded. “How could you do that to any girl, let alone your girl? Believe me when I say that your answer will determine how likely you are to be bizarro-Willow.”
She shook her head. “Buffy, it’s me. This isn’t bizarro at all. First of all, dresses and things – that’s a tradition here and there, Tara being naked was a tradition. Second… have you
seen Tara naked?” she asked.
“No…”
“Well, good. But… I have.” Yes, just a tiny bit smug. “And believe me if you were in love with her and knew she looks as good as she does and – you know – gay then you’d be all in favour of tradition too.”
Not that it had been easy on her. Traditional or not.
--------------------------
“Tara, please - don’t worry! You’re beautiful,” Willow whispered.
“I’m
naked,” she replied, still very much wondering what to do with her hands.
Or one of her hands. The other was linked to Willows and therefore not much use for covering herself. ‘Tied’ might’ve actually been a better way of putting it. A vine had climbed both their legs.
But since one of them wasn’t wearing anything and there’d been a moment – just a moment – when she remembered why it had been a
very bad idea to sit through Evil Dead. A girl really shouldn’t have to think about that on her wedding day. It should absolutely be a rule.
Luckily enough – considering it was her mind that had called this part of this world into existence – the vine had simply joined their arms together and allowed them to clasp hands.
Better, definitely, but leaving her firstly with one only one hand to try to cover anything with and secondly not knowing what to do with it.
“Yes. And you’re beautiful. I told you. I told you over and over. We’re about to get married and I think that pretty much means that you have to believe me when I tell you you’re beautiful.”
“I’m naked.”
“No one cares,” Willow told her.
“You do,” she said.
“Well… yeah. Me. The outsider. But, trust me, I only see it as a good thing.”
The kiss which followed made her smile.
“If it really bothers you,” Willow whispered. “If this will spoil it for you… I want – I want this to be perfect? We can – I can send Miri for your clothes.”
She did give it a moment’s thought. Even just some underwear… But, these were her people and her family in some strange way and…
With Willow, the look in her eyes. She did feel beautiful. And the only self-consciousness was what she’d brought with her.
She shook her head fractionally, pleased with Willow’s smile. And then they had to wonder what was going to happen next. Which, funnily enough, seemed to be what the assembled guests were wondering too. Looking right back at them.
There didn’t seem to be a priest or a leader of some ritual or… anything. Just them. And a lot of people waiting for something to happen.
“What now?” she asked her sister, who happened to be the nearest individual she knew.
“Now you join.”
“We’re joined, Niamh,” Willow stage-whispered. “Strapped together like a tree and… I was really hoping the first time I said ‘strap’ with you, it’d be something different I was talking about, you know after we check out the mail order options but – what do we do now?”
Was a full body blush possible? Everyone else here might just have found out.
“Tell us,” Niamh said, looking uncomfortable. Something… well, something wasn’t quite right. Obviously. “You must tell us all.”
“That’s it? Isn’t there someone who’s going to tell us we’re married or something?”
“Why?”
“Well… someone with the authority to - ”
Looking a little uncomfortable, Niamh stepped forwards and it enabled her to lower her voice. “Perhaps – yes, I should explain more. You’re very… different. So is the place you are from. You think someone should give you permission to be joined? Is this what holds you back?”
“Well, I don’t know about
permission,” Willow said. “Not as such.”
“Yes. That’s it exactly,” she said. “Well, it is. Think about it, Willow.”
With that her soon-to-be-wife was forced to nod. “I guess, yes, it’s like permission.”
Niamh shook her head. “This is you,” Niamh said, taking their joined hands. “Together.”
“Just this?”
“At its simplest,” Niamh said. “Who can give you permission to be so? Why would you need or want it? Are your lives lived by others?”
“No…”
“Then what could be the reason?”
“Tradition, I guess,” she said.
“And this is ours. Here, you are what you wish to be. How you live is all the permission you need. But our tradition is that you say so.”
“So… We’re joined. I could just say ‘we’re joined’?”
“You did,” Niamh said. “You said you’re joined and – that might be it. These good folk came from far and wide to be here. They probably want more than ‘we’re joined.’”
“Huh?”
“I think you married us a moment ago,” she explained.
“Ohhh. Ooops. Not bad oops, I wouldn’t take it back – but maybe, ‘oops that should’ve been more…’”
“Yes, they want a little more…”
Theatre?”
“Reason to celebrate,” Niamh corrected, but did seem to understand what ‘theatre’ meant.
“There’s a party?”
“Of course there’s a party.”
They looked at each other. Already married – inadvertently – sure, they could make that more expressive. But one thing first.
“This party?” she checked.
“Yes?”
“Can I get dressed first? Is
that traditional?”
“Yes, you can.”
“Well, what kind of party’s that?” Willow demanded to know.
-------------------------
One deep breath.
Then another.
The words were there, the feelings and emotions and the
love but she knew how they might come tumbling out and mixed up and get stumbled upon… This, this one things she wanted to do right.
No one would probably remember if she did get tongue tied, so long as she could let them hear what was in her heart.
What she wanted to say to Willow.
My Willow.
My wife. In truth, there wasn’t much she could say that she hadn’t already – one way or another. Even so, this wasn’t really for the guests. It was really for them and their memories of this day and if lots of other people and beings happened to hear about their love… fine.
They were mated, as Miri would put it.
And they were joined – married - because Willow had basically blurted it out without understanding what they were doing. So… this was what it took to do it right.
All I have to do is say how I feel.But where to start?
“These - ” She coughed, inhaling a bug just before she started speaking. Not the greatest start, but Willow was rapt in her attention. Eyes laden with sympathy.
And… you didn’t spit bugs at your own wedding, did you? So she did the ladylike thing and just swallowed it down. Hopefully it wasn’t some really small wedding guest…
“Sorry – Willow, these – I realised I never wrote you a love letter,” she said.
“You had no paper, baby, and before that, you didn’t know. So it’s okay.”
“Shush now, this is me talking. Kay?”
“Sorry.”
“I never wrote you a love letter, I feel like I should’ve done that – I feel like maybe I missed out on doing that and you missed out on reading it.”
She took another, more careful, breath. No bugs…
Better.
“So, these – these are really the first words of a lifelong love letter. From me to you.”
So far so good.
And then… it all poured out.
“I choose you, Willow Rosenberg. You found me in that group and I chose to come to you when things looked worse than anything.
“You chose to trust me. To come with me.”
No pun intended, but there was the tiniest hint of amusement that touched Willow’s lips in amongst a broader, loving expression. Yeah, she’d taken that the way it hadn’t been meant.
But that was Willow. She of the beautiful – dirty – mind.
“And I choose to join you – to marry you. I choose you to be in my life, because I can’t think what that would be like anymore. Without you, I mean. I can’t imagine what it would be without you.
“Nothing except worse.
“Everything changed when you looked at me, when you met my eyes in that meeting that – well, I didn’t go there looking for love. Or you. Or anything, much really by that point. The whole thing was kind of a bust. But something kept me going – like the universe was just waiting for us to find each other.
“Because this feels right. Because every day that we spend together I become more yours and it feels like you become more mine.”
Willow’s smile was back, agreeing with her.
Reassuring. It’d be awful to be wrong, in front of all these lovely people and beings who were here just to hear this. Somewhere out there – she was only looking at Willow – it seemed like someone or something sniffed back some emotion.
“It – it feels like we should tell everyone – tell the whole world, or all the worlds, that we got it right. That everything was just changed. Right then. In you. Hopes. Expectations. Everything…”
Willow wanted to kiss her. Okay, that wasn’t unusual, Willow frequently wanted to kiss her and rarely held back from it either, but this time she didn’t let it happen.
Often she’d have naturally preferred kissing to talk. Because, well, Willow. Also because the evidence suggested she was much better at kissing than talking.
Not this time though.
“My whole heart’s yours,” she said. “You told me the name of the parts once and… all of them, they don’t seem very romantic now but… See? See what you’ve done to me? You’ve got me talking just like you do too?”
Willow’s eyes were sparkling with tears. Happy tears.
Well, she hoped.
“I’ve become yours,” she said. “Already a done deal. And I think, maybe you’re becoming mine?
“Say something, baby, please?”
--------------------------------
No pressure then.
Follow that if you can.If her arm and hand hadn’t been secured to Tara’s already by the twisting vine, then she’d have had to grab it. But… touching as they were, clutching each other as they were, their magical/mental/loving connection was already complete.
She
knew everything that was behind Tara’s words. Not only felt them resonate in her own feelings, but also felt the powerful truth in them. It was like… they had one love in two parts. And Tara couldn’t feel what she did unless she did and she did so Tara did and -
And then… what could she say? She looked around hunting for inspiration to even come close to the beauty of Tara’s words. Looking around wasn’t much help.
What do I say?
But looking around, she was quite, quite certain that someone here – maybe Tara herself – had influenced things so that they were simply
perfect.Even the sunlight was like a fantasy, like the most artful movie… Streaming through leaves and a light mist that did nothing but make it appear beautiful.
There wasn’t a cloud in the skies around them but off in the distance, the sky was reddening so that when sunset came – after they were done, no doubt – there’d be that too.
The spot itself was a glade at the heart of a forest that over weeks and months had revealed nothing worse than pine-needles getting in unfortunate places. Designed/dreamt by the woman she loved.
The girl of her dreams had dreamed this place up and that made them her dreams too – and in a very real way.
Okay, so she’d not really understood that there
was a girl of her dreams when she arrived here but… turned out there was.
And that girl was right here.
Naked.
Saying beautiful things that she had no idea how to match.
Tara might have felt uncomfortable, but no one else cared. Tradition was important and beauty was undeniable.
Perfection wasn’t impossible, it was actually all around her.
And despite the fact she wasn’t one of the nymphs or the other beings that dwelt here, she felt at home all the same.
Home is where she
is.It always would be. Perky, brown haired and all kinds of delightful. One day, she was sure, a little less perky, grey and still all kinds of delightful – one day. And she couldn’t wait for that either. She couldn’t wait for all the days or any of them. Tara was where she wanted to be.
Some things were just
right.And those things were few in number in a life, if hers was anything to go by. What people told you was important… wasn’t. What was expected of you really didn’t matter. Not unless you really felt it.
She’d thought she’d known what that was like, assumed that a deep friendship would turn into love. Believed it had happened simply because she didn’t know any better what the difference was.
Didn’t know
this.
Everything she’d been quite certain of had simply been… based on the lack of a deeper understanding of herself and the world.
It had been no one’s fault. Okay, maybe her own fault but no one else’s.
And when she’d lost what she thought was important… she’d thought she needed to be crushed. She’d made her own emotions real. But… part of her reaction – she recognised it now – had been relief. Relief that it had all gone wrong before things had gone further and gone wrong in a worse way. Relief that – ultimately – she was free of those expectations.
Even though they’d been her own.
Relief had been
wrong. Not something she could admit, even to herself. Anyone would’ve told her that, because they didn’t know. They didn’t understand. And so… denial. Burying the relief in the loss.
And then… Tara.
Where it was all just… right.
Never any need to hide. Never any need to assume that one thing was another. That a friendship was a love. A love was always a friendship. This love, at least. Never any need to accept second best because you didn’t know or understand what ‘best’ actually was.
Tara, obviously.
Tara who was being just as patient as all their guests. Patient with her. Tara and her endless patience… Tara who, she was sure, might’ve waited months or years to even smile at her again if she thought it wasn’t the right time. But would always be there, ready with it.
Tara whose smile lit up a room as well as her heart.
Tara who’d shown her what love really was.
And desire too… Oh, the desire.
The trouble was… all these people had come here to see them ‘join’ or ‘marry’ if you preferred – and she did prefer. And the act of that here, in this place, was to say so. Just that…
All this that she knew, how did she put it into words? After what Tara had managed to say? How did she compete with that? No, there was no need to compete. That was kind of the point. So how did she
complement it?
She realised that her cheeks were wet. They were wet with her own tears. Tara was stricken, didn’t quite understand – even with their connection - that… It wasn’t pressure or second thoughts or something Tara had said.
Well, it was everything Tara had said, but… not at all in a bad way.
There’d been a question at the end there though.
One that had to be answered, at the very least. And what could she say? Well, there seemed to be only one way to start.
“Yes. Yes, of course I’m yours, silly sausage.”
Tara laughed, almost crying herself – but laughing and things shook that… inspired and made her laugh more.
“I’m happy,” she said. “I’m happy, Tara. That’s all.” Then to all of them. “I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been and I know I’ll be happy for the rest of my life. I just hope I’ll one day make you as happy as you’ve already made me. It’s something to live for, something to aim for. Goals are important and… I promised myself I wouldn’t babble.
“I… I don’t know what to say. I’m not good with words – or I am, I just don’t know when to
stop being good with them.”
It was a good line, though it was just the truth. Chuckles and smiles and the centaur equivalent – she guessed – rippled around the glade.
“So I want to keep it simple.”
She took a deep breath.
“Tara Maclay… I love you. I’m going to keep loving you.
“Forever.
“You chose me, you said so. But… I choose you too.”
********************