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EPILOGUE He'd built her a swing. Like the one her mother had. During the half year that was the Warm Season, she'd spend each afternoon in the gardens of the Castle, rocking in her swing, journal in hand… relaxing and breathing in the clear, warm air as the day turned to evening. Sitting and writing… and remembering. So many horrible memories and so many memories lost. So much torture that she longed to forget but couldn't, so she was writing that part of her life in her journal so that, in the future, people would know what life had been like in the Pava… before it had become annexed to the Tar. Today, it was forbidden for Pavana mates to be beaten or caged for any reason. The punishment for breaking this law was death. Many Masters had not taken Angel's decree seriously, had abused their mates, and had been tortured to death as a result of it. So be it. She also wrote about her life after Angel had come for her. Her good memories. Of life with her family in the Tar… Angel, Dawn and her mother. And memories of her other family who lived on Earth. She called her book: My life as Bryn. To be a Bryn meant many things: Most valuable slave… favored object. In some cases, it meant valuable asset. To the Pava, it meant all of those things. When the Tarana women called her Bryn now, it was for another meaning: Treasure. When they'd initially returned, she'd taken steps to get to know better the Tarana women who lived within the walls of the Fortress. It was a small community, consisting mostly of craftsman and artisans as well as Angel's pran's families and others who worked within the Castle. As the women grew more comfortable with Buffy, they'd confided often about the change in the Tar and also the subsequent change in their own Masters' treatment of them. Angel was apparently ruling the Tar as he had years before when he'd first begun his reign, but according to the women, he'd changed since he'd mated Buffy. Now, he was much more social and friendly, taking time to talk to the men, hear their concerns, counsel them. The women believed it was Angel's input – under Buffy's influence – that had led their Masters to granting more freedoms. Buffy understood their gratitude. Her greatest treasure – her Bryn – was Angel, the man who'd liberated her. Who'd given her the gift of love, of life. They'd been back for five months when her mother and Giles had arrived for a visit. It was strange: To her mother and Giles, they'd only been gone overnight but to Buffy…. She'd really missed her mother. She'd only known her briefly but she felt a strong connection with her. For her mother's part, she'd planned only to visit but having seen her daughter again and seen that Buffy wanted her, she'd decided to stay. After returning to Earth for several Betharan months to sign over her affairs to Giles, she had arrived with Giles and Willow in tow, carting as many of her things as they could carry. The Fortress and its grounds were beautiful that time of year. Like most Tarana, they'd moved their sleeping quarters outside. Communing with nature was an important part of the Tarana culture and sleeping outside had the added benefit of being much cooler than the Castle. Dawn had completely embraced the change of scene. Buffy suspected it was because she got to sleep with her beloved animals. The wildlife seemed to be attracted to Dawn, to look to her as their leader. Angel suspected it was her magic. Her intelligence and spirit did seem to be suited to caring for and playing with the animals. She would spend hours with them, quiet, dreamy and smiling. While Dawn and Joyce slept in a bowery in the Qatra'at section of the gardens, Angel and Buffy slept miles in the other direction… under a cape of hysocs. She loved the intoxicating fragrance of the blooms… and loved what the aphrodisiac did to her body. Each morning she'd awaken to Angel's warm hands stroking her body, tantalizing her, the scent of the morning blooms filling the air, making her body, her blood, sensitive and alive. He'd kiss her naked skin, suckle at her breasts, run his tongue over her belly, her clit… his naked skin rubbing against hers as he crawled up her body, kissing her neck, licking and sucking his mark… his half-closed eyes meeting hers as he pushed into her … as he thrust deeply… slowly… made her feel every inch of him inside her… as he reached down and massaged her clit … slowly, slowly… until she was screaming in ecstasy. Spent, they would lay, blissful and silent, holding each other as the rest of the forest awakened, the music of the birds and other beasts announcing the new day, hoping the goddess of fertility would bless them with the gift of a child. She hoped her nausea of the prior few weeks was a sign of just that. He drew her into his arms as he joined her on her swing, draping a light blanket around her shoulders. "Feeling better?" She smiled brilliantly. "I'm perfect. Now you're here." He smiled and hugged her, and rest his head on top of hers. She sighed and relaxed fully into him, looking out at the gardens – at their world – as the second sun began to set, the sky filling with deep greens and purples. Joyce sat under a tree, in front of an easel, painting a landscape with watercolors, her brow furrowed in concentration. Dawn was running and chasing a butterfly. Angel kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer. It was a perfect world. End.
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