The Castle East of the Sun and West of the Moon

The Castle East of the Sun and West of the Moon

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. - Alphonse Karr

We were lovers once.

Once upon a time, in a castle we knew all too well, in a time that was all too dangerous, two boys met and fell in love. It seemed the castle was enchanted, for when they left, their love, though no less true and no less pure, seemed to fracture and break. One boy suspected the other. The other boy felt driven away from his friends, his family having been long since gone. And then the first boy, the suspicious boy, perhaps hurt by his love, perhaps entranced by his family, perhaps angry with the world, did the unthinkable. He betrayed his friend and his friend's love. And in so doing, also betrayed his own love.

It makes us sound like a fairy tale, doesn't it? Our story begins with once upon a time. So simple. It should end with a happily ever after, no? That's what the modern stories end with.

But will we end with happily ever after? I grew up with the Brothers Grimm, my parents never telling me the story where the mermaid marries her prince or where the soldier safely escapes the witches' hounds. I do not know what my once-love heard as a child, but I cannot imagine his family was any kinder, any gentler.

What would the Brothers Grimm make of us, now? Certainly, we have suffered enough, gruesomely enough, confusingly enough, to slake even their blood lust. One lover suffers prison, a prison more painful and fearful than any other, for a crime he did not commit. The other lover suffers alone, betrayed and bereft, lost and unemployable for reasons beyond his control, often hungry and alone. Would they give us a happy ending and make our enemies suffer, as the wicked stepsisters bled in their shoes on Kari's wedding day? Or would we ourselves suffer, as the Parrault's poor young Fatima when she dared to learn her husband's secret?

I received a firecall last week. The Headmaster, the War Leader, the General, the Old Man, he wanted to speak to me, to tell me that my once-lover would be returning. My love, my once-love, my always-love, would be coming to stay with me.

I love him. I have loved him and I love him now. It hurts to think that I hated him once, not all that long ago. I hated him for killing my friends, for betraying my friends, for betraying me. I thought that I had loved him and given him my heart and that he had not loved me in return. For more than a decade, I lay adrift, lost and betrayed, frozen in my heart and soul. But, like Gerda, he found me and knew me, restoring my faith in love and life. In that same castle where we once fell in love, I fell in love again. Like the women of Soria Moria, it seems that my heart is tied to the magic of that castle - and the magic of the man I love.

A bird came to me yesterday, a raven, with blue-black plumes and sharp eyes. It was a messenger of my love, Hugin or Munin. He will be coming to my small cottage today, a Padfoot in my garden, a killer or demon in my English home, black against so much green. I will see my love again, after I saw that his betrayal was no betrayal at all.

But I wonder.

We started with a once upon a time. We started with an improbable tale: a werewolf who loved a full-blooded human. Three times the human betrayed the werewolf and he was taken away. The werewolf mourned his loss and the human suffered for his offences. But, like all fairy tales, the two were brought together again. The werewolf and the human were reunited, if only for a short time.

And now the human returns. The lover returns. Sirius Black returns to Remus Lupin.

How will this end?

Will we be like Gerda and Kay, like foolish Dullhead and his quiet princess, like the princess and the Peacock king? Have we already suffered our trials and will live out our lives in joy, even if war is upon us? Do we get a happily ever after, the ending so common in modern children's tales?

Or will we be like Halvor and his bride, like the Great Bear and the girl who tamed the North Wind? Will we be separated eternally from one another, forced to reunite in the end, in a castle East of the Sun and West of the Moon?

By his letter, I know he loves me still. He worries for me, for my health since he has not been near me to care for me, though he himself has bordered on starvation for so many years. Our love is strong, strong enough to carry through years, through change, through separation, through betrayal, through fear, through hatred. I hope we will not see just how strong it is. Haven't we been tested enough?

Padfoot is in the garden.

We have today.