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The ceremonial fire fading out, Dani was overcome with her emotions. She had cycled through anger and betrayal, fear and guilt and grief. Joy. Elation. Somehow, she had ended back in her guilt, facing the ashes of the last person she had left that loved her. Though, she supposes, perhaps that isn't true. Christian had been pulling away for months, making her feel more and more like a burden. More and more like a sentencing he had to endure. And, she thought bitterly, Christian had bedded Maja. So, maybe she had actually lost the last person who loved her well before this.
But she was the one who sentenced him to his death. She was the one who had looked into his face, when he was at his most helpless, his most pathetic, completely at her mercy, and chosen him over Torbjörn. Had he deserved the real sentence that she placed upon him? For - what? Not being in love with her anymore? Wanting to end things? Wanting to go to parties; wanting to go to Sweden? Not being able to help her shoulder the burden of grief and guilt she had already been harboring over her parents? Of Terri? Perhaps she was the real monster here, not the Hårga.
For them this was religious, spiritual. For her, this was personal.
Before she could fully grasp the depth of her feelings, hands appeared on her arms, their dull weight felt through the mountain of flowers she felt buried beneath, a body kneeling in front of her, hunched low to the ground to match her posture. Looking up into the stranger's eyes, she realized it wasn't a stranger at all, but Pelle. Sweet Pelle. Sweet, smart Pelle. The man who, until - yesterday? Today? She couldn't pick the hours apart from themselves - she knew couldn't hurt a fly, didn't have a mean bone in his body. But he did. He was the green man, the mastermind of his friend's demise; He was the reason for skin suits stuffed with straw, the reason she was the May Queen, the reason Christian had strayed and wound up burned alive inside a bear's fur. And yet his eyes were still so clear, so radiant as he lifted a hand and swept his thumb through the tears sprouting from her eyes. She hadn't even realized she was crying.
"Dani," came the smooth sound of Pelle's voice, "let go. Let me hold you."
Before she could stop it, a wail had bubbled up, out of her throat, spilling onto the flowers of her dress, over the hands he still had outstretched and grounding her. She didn't deserve to be held. She was so selfish and manipulative, just like Christian had said. How ironic of her to never see it until it killed him. Until she killed him.
“Dani, Dani, Dani,” the soft chanting of her name in Pelle’s sweet voice drew her eyes to his. “Let me hold you. Let me hold your spirit. Please, Dani, let me show you how brightly it shines,” Pelle was trying to comfort her now, but he saw what she was really like. How could he be extending such a kindness to her now when she least deserved it? How could someone who could lead her to this point have such kindness to give?
"No, Pelle, no. Stop it, stop it, no," her sobs slipped out between words, stretched and shook the syllables as she said them, her hands reaching to swat at where his had found themselves cupped around her face. But he was stronger, and larger, and knew in his chest that this was a time to push, not a time to relent.
"Please, Dani. It is so bright,” he said into the air, “You are so bright. You have been adorned with flowers in my mind since the day we first spoke- since before. The lightness I feel when I look at you; the weightlessness of when my eyes touch your spirit, the way my hands have longed to touch your skin. You must see it as I do," he pleaded, "you must." His hands slipped down to her shoulders, gathering her up and away from the ground they were folded over, lifting her up as he went to his feet. In a daze, Dani followed, Ulla and Hanna deftly removing the heavy mantle of flowers where it met at her neck, the other girls joining them in moving it to rest over the ashes of the fire temple.
Before her mind could catch up to them, they were in a building with a table laid out in the center - perhaps a butcher's block? Is this where they prepared the animals? Is this where they prepared the sacrifices? Christian? She didn't know and was too far into her own mind to ask. Pelle turned to face her in their newfound privacy and gathered her to his chest once more, hands twisting up to her hair, down to grasp her cheeks. She was terrified that he would kiss her now - had thought that maybe the one from before had been a drug fueled hallucination that she wouldn't have to address with herself - but he stopped where he was, hands cupping her face and unending blue eyes boring into hers. It terrified her more that she was a bit disappointed.
She couldn't bring herself to break the silence, didn't even know what she would say if she were to do so anyway, and instead waited for him to finish gathering his breath, his words. The look he set upon her was one of such deep understanding and longing. Such boundless love. It stopped her heart where it lay in her chest. Maybe this wasn't what she thought it was. Maybe whatever platitudes he intended to spout to her actually made sense. Actually took in the barren soil that was her mind now. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Perhaps the world is a better place without Mark's arrogance and ignorance. Without Josh's pedantic disdain and lack of empathy. Free of Christian's careless words and promises and actions.
Maybe Pelle and Dani weren't monsters. Maybe they both were.
Maybe they were cut of the same cloth; full of longing and in need of so much, so much, community and blood and heart and sacrifice and understanding and love.
Maybe her spirit really was light; Pelle's too.
Maybe they needed one another to fill in the void.
Maybe the only way to keep from falling apart was to hold one another together.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
She opened her eyes to hold his as he began to speak.