Title: The Light Side of the Shadow Wall
Description: Dimas de Teran is faced with the impossible task of winning over the girl he loves without ever talking to her face to face. With the help of his friends and former foes, will he succeed?
A/N: Written for Jenbunny, with very best wishes.

This fic is set in the world as "Santa Esperanza" (between years 20 and 30), which was written for Advent Drabblender 2011. I think it's not necessary to read that one beforehand, especially since this fic was started first, but feel free to check it out for more of what happens before/after this one. Several of Seiya's lines are from the anime, I hope (at least that's what Wikipedia tells me) so no credit to me, of course.

Characters:

Serafina de Luna – Usagi

Luisa – Luna

Casimiro de Ortega – Kunzite

Dimas de Teran – Mamoru

Magdalena de Saravia – Minako

Belén – Beryl

Joaquin de Vittoria – Jadeite

Zacarías de Santangel – Zoisite

Nicodemo de Villarreal – Nephrite

Maricela de Soria – Makoto

Sergio de Fonseca – Seiya

Damían de Carmona – Diamond

Rosalía de Teran – Rei

Emilia de Palma – Ami

Catalina – Kakyuu

Rubén – Rubeus

Santos – Saphir

Priscila – Petz

Carmen – Kōan

The Light Side of the Shadow Wall

Part I: Wishes for Santa Esperanza

She worked quickly but unhurriedly, keeping a firm grip on the strands of flaxen hair that shone like moonbeams in the candlelight. This was the type of work she enjoyed most – it was precise and demanding, yet the result was artful and the beneficiary close to her heart, so all in all it gave her great satisfaction to perform her task. What surprised her was her charge's patience with the tedious procedure.

"Serafina? Have you fallen asleep again?" The girl was not one for early rising, so she half-expected a snore in response.

"No, Luisa," Serafina said promptly. But her nurse's question had startled her out of her reverie, and she shifted her gaze from the hypnotic passage of the first drops of wax, which had started to run over the lips of their hollows and bead slowly down the sides of the ivory tapers. She kept her eyes firmly on her hands and tried not to fidget.

The candles were set beside a heavy, gold-framed mirror, which showed another girl with wide eyes and pale lips trying not to shiver in the chilly predawn air. She didn't want to look until everything was done in case it broke the spell. The lace-covered dress hanging in the corner, the basket of white roses, the pearl bracelets, and Luna's careful arranging of her hair – these were the instruments which would turn her into the incarnation of Santa Esperanza come to earth again.

But there was another magical transformation she hoped would occur, aided by the strength and wisdom flowing from Luisa's nimble fingertips, down through her scalp and into her heart. Maybe then, when Luisa was finished twining the delicate white roses through her hair, she would know what it meant to be a woman and what to say to the men who would come courting her.

A sharp twinge of pain broke through her thoughts, shattering her concentration.

"Ouch! Must you pull so tightly, Luisa?" she asked, trying to twist away from her nursemaid. Unfortunately, given Luisa's firm grip, it only increased the pressure on her scalp.

Luisa had been with the family since Serafina's own mother had been a girl, but after all those years, her hair was still as black as a starless night. Well used to her charge's ways, she ordered, "Stay still, please, Serafina. Really, it's no worse than the prick of a needle, and given the sad state of your needlework, you should be well acquainted with that sensation."

She took the rebuke with no more than a slight pout, for she knew that Luisa's bark was worse than her bite. Sure enough, a moment later, the woman patted her gently on the hand and said, "I'm almost done."

Luisa was fussing with the arrangement of the last few petals and Serafina was just about to raise her eyes to her reflection when the door opened to admit a tall woman with silvering hair.

"Mamá!"

As the mistress of the house approached with her elegant, gliding steps, Luisa completed the white rose coronet and moved back. The expressions on the two women's faces were the same: half-sad, half-proud, and Serafina felt her nervousness return tenfold until her mother's smile brightened, warming the room more effectively than the corner brazier.

"I have something for you, Serafina. It's something my mother gave to me when I was your age." The gentle pressure on her shoulders kept her in her chair, and Serafina looked at herself in the mirror at last, watching her mother place a silver chain hung with a glimmering, faceted crystal ball around her neck.

"Beautiful," Luisa said approvingly, keeping a sharp eye on any potential disruption of her handiwork.

"Thank you," Serafina breathed, her eyes fixed on the sphere which seemed to draw in all the light in the room and reflect it again, doubly bright.

The three women clustered together in front of the mirror, companionably quiet until Serafina's stomach growled.

Luisa murmured, "Thank goodness some things never change," but her tone was nostalgic rather than scolding.

The laugh lines crinkled around the other woman's eyes, and she said, "I think everyone has waited long enough for the morning meal. Is Santa Esperanza ready to descend, Serafina?"

"Yes, Mamá."

They helped her put the dress and bracelets on and then ushered her out of the room to awaken the household, per tradition.

And so it was that her one backwards glance was of a girl all in white, with pink cheeks and a hopeful smile.

"I am trying, but I fail to see why you think this should be so difficult for you, my friend."

He put his head on his arms with a dejected sigh. "You don't understand, Casmiro. You are strong and handsome and noble, and you won Magdalena with the ease of – with the ease of – well, with the ease of encountering a pickpocket in the city square, if you'll forgive the analogy."

Casmiro thought this was a bit much, particularly since Malena had referred to him as "that hateful man" a nontrivial number of times before they were married, and while she had since softened it to "impossible man," the epithet was applied to him at least once a week. He had also never been pickpocketed in the square; neither, to the best of his knowledge, had Dimas. He raised an ironic eyebrow in response.

"Women do not like me," Dimas continued woefully. "They have never liked me. Do you remember my cousin Belén? She was a true witch, that one."

"Yes. Quite vividly."

None of them had wanted to go over to the de Teran residence when Belén was around, and Dimas had practically moved into one of the de Ortegas' spare rooms. But since she had moved away some fifteen years now, Casimiro thought it was long past time for her influence to have faded. He rather thought the problem with Belén had been too much affection rather than too little, and she had moved away before she learned to express her feelings by charming rather than tormenting Dimas. Nico was of the same opinion, but Dimas persisted in denying it with the same stubborn blindness he exhibited towards the many admiring glances of half the girls in the province.

"...and when I am with them, I have no idea what to say. It is hopeless."

Casimiro sometimes wished his friend would do a little less talking around him. He also suspected that the air of mystery and terseness actually increased Dimas's attractiveness among the young women.

He wondered if he should tell Dimas the most difficult part came after marriage, not before. But that was likely to send him into a black despair it would be difficult to lift him out of, and they were due at Nicodemo's house in half an hour. He had promised Magdalena they wouldn't be late this time. Not that it had been his fault any of the last five times, but she seemed to think he had some influence over his friends. All because that fool Joaquin had confided to her that he, Casimiro, could be "scary" in a temper. What man – or woman, for that matter – was not scary in a temper?

Casmiro looked back at Dimas and reconsidered.

"Dimas. Given your self-professed difficulty in conversing with young women, don't you think it would be a better idea to consider another type of courting? One that requires, say, more dancing or strolling in gardens and less talking?" Dimas's interest in gardening, which they teased him mercilessly about, was likely to come in handy there.

"No, I can't. You don't understand. The shadow wall is the only choice." He sighed at the skeptical look on Casimiro's face, but he obediently put on his cloak and followed his friend to their destination. "The Marqués de Luna is very conservative, and he follows all the traditional ways. And after that business with the Oscura Luna, he is very protective of his daughter. He has dictated that if a man wishes to court his daughter, he must do it by way of the shadow wall."

"And what is so special about Serafina de Luna?"

The worry faded from Dimas's face, temporarily replaced by rapture. "Ten years ago, I saw her, and she was the most beauteous thing to walk this earth."

"Ten years is a long time. Perhaps she is ugly now."

Startled, Dimas turned, then thumped the newcomer on the shoulder. Casimiro, of course, was never taken by surprise. "Joaquin! Of course she isn't. How can you say such a thing?" But he spoke without heat, for of course Joaquin de Vittoria said anything that came to his mind, the more outrageous, the better.

Joaquin shrugged, nodding good-naturedly at the two men as he fell into step with them. "All I can say is, you better be sure what you're getting into, my friend."

Casimiro grunted, slightly dismayed to be in agreement with this miscreant.

Joaquin snapped his fingers. "I know! You should consult the Vizconde de Santangel."

"What – de Santangel? Why?" Dimas asked, dismayed.

The blond-haired man explained, "Because he is her cousin, the Marquesa's nephew. He can tell you what she is like – for example, whether she is an ogre or not, and if not, how best to approach her. What she likes, what she does not like."

Dimas chose to overlook the ogre comment because he was quite taken with the suggestion. It seemed like the answer to all his prayers. And yet. "I can't. I don't like the man."

This was news to them both, since Dimas never disliked anyone, but particularly to Casimiro. "What do you have against Zacarías de Santangel, Dimas?"

He scowled. "It is a matter of honor."

By this point, they had arrived at the house and were hailed enthusiastically by their host. "Come in, come in!" Nicodemo de Villarreal flung his arms wide, as if to embrace them all. "Maricela has been cooking all morning,, and I'm starving. Wine?"

They accepted, and when they were all seated with glasses in hand, Joaquin asked, "Nico, do you know why Dimas does not get along with Zacarías de Santangel?"

While Dimas spluttered, the brunet looked up calming from where he was decanting a fresh bottle of wine and said matter-of-factly, "Because he beat him in a knife-throwing contest."

"And gloated in a most ungentlemanly manner. You are leaving the important part of the story out, Nico," he complained.

"Of course. But it's just his way. Joaquin gloats too, you know," Nico pointed out.

"It's not the same. He is – he is just too smug about it. It is insufferable."

Casimiro set his glass down. "I will agree that Zacarías is not a modest man, but he is quite clever, in his way. If you are serious about courting Serafina de Luna, you may wish to have his support. If you like, I will introduce you. And I will make sure he does not mention the knife-throwing." More than once, he added silently.

Dimas considered, wondering if he should stick to his principles. But the image of the young girl who had handed him a rose was more than enough to outweigh his reluctance. "Very well. Thank you, Casimiro."

In the meantime, Joaquin had been filling Nico in on their conversation, and the latter looked over with a half-amused, half-exasperated grin. "Out of any of us, of course it would be you, Dimas, to be half in love with a girl you have only seen once in your lifetime, ten years ago."

Dreamily, Dimas said, "I can only imagine that she has since grown up to be as graceful as a butterfly."

She tripped down the last three steps, saved from falling on her face and crushing the fragile white rosebuds only by her father's strong grip. As it was, she had a feeling she had nearly ripped out the hem of her new white shift. Luisa would not be pleased.

"Santa Esperanza!" he greeted her in his booming voice, his eyes laughing while he kept his voice properly respectful and serious. "Dare we believe that you have come to grace this household with your blessed presence? And may we hope that you bring glad tidings as we lay the old year to rest and hail the new?"

Serafina beamed up at him, grateful that he continued as if nothing had happened. "Yes, all those and more, for this is a household in which there is true love and respect between all its members, and no shortage of joy and kindness."

She looked at all her friends and family gathered around, taking in the glowing expressions of pride and joy on their faces, and felt the happiness rise within her, brighter and warmer than liquid gold.

Santa Esperanza was a beautiful figure, one who brought joy wherever she went. At Christmastime, she was depicted with the customary armfuls of oranges, for abundance, and almond cookies, for blessings. Not only did she grant the most heartfelt wishes of the deserving, but she also reawakened the earth, breathing warmth and life back into the soil. Her song called back the birds, and her voice melted the ice from the rivers.

"If you would come forward now, one by one, to tell me your wishes, I will do my very best to see that those who are deserving will see them granted."

In seconds, she was surrounded by eager children, and she knelt down so they could whisper their secrets into her ear. As she heard each wish, she was careful to keep them all straight in her head so she could tell their parents or fulfill them herself. For a girl who had difficulty remembering dates and notable historical figures, she found this task remarkably easy.

Serafina circulated among her relatives, hearing wishes mostly from the young children, but also from some of her aunts, uncles, and older cousins. There were the usual requests for knives and ribbons, a good harvest, a new horse or a new baby, peace in the household, a grown-up pair of boots, the chance to win the hand of a young lady or catch a young man's eye, and the pink silk dress in the dressmaker's window that Serafina herself had admired.

She was careful to nod solemnly, even when Margarita wished the cats would get along with the dogs so both of her favorites could sleep at the foot of her bed at night. Among other things, Eliseo wished Luisa wouldn't pull on his earlobes quite so hard when she caught him in the middle of a misdeed. Felipe wanted, just once, to make Reina de Coria in the year below him laugh. She had to hold back her tears when Marcelo asked for Mamá to get well soon, please, and gave him an extra handful of almond cookies with her kiss.

She smiled when she spotted a lanky figure leaning against the mantelpiece. Grabbing a handful of cookies and peeled orange slices from a nearby tray, she rushed over to him before he could disappear.

"Good morning, Zacarías."

The corners of his mouth turned up in his lazy grin as he bowed elaborately. "Good morning, Santa Esperanza. Your loveliness is breathtaking today. To what do I owe this honor?"

"Why, I'm here to ask what your wish is this Christmas, of course."

Zacarías paused, his green eyes dark as he looked down at her. He thought the Santa Esperanza custom one of the more charming traditions, but it was somewhat embarrassing to tell your younger cousin your heart's desire. Then again, he had gained more reverence for Santa Esperanza after his years fighting against the Oscura Luna, and he thought Santa Esperanza would be delighted to have Serafina as her emissary.

"Zacarías?" she prompted.

Slowly, he answered, "There is someone who I believe may be far from here, away from friends and family. I hope I will find her soon, but if I do not… I wish that she finds happiness and peace."

"Emilia?" Serafina guessed, thinking of her missing friend. Zacarías had introduced them, and she, too, missed the kind young woman with her calm practicality and gentle smile.

He nodded, and she hugged him tightly.

"Santa Esperanza! Please hear my wish next!" Estela pleaded, her big brown eyes wide with urgency.

With another sympathetic smile for him, Serafina straightened her skirts and started to walk away.

Zacarías stopped her with a tap on the shoulder. "One more thing, Santa Esperanza." If not for the pain lingering in his eyes, his light voice and slight smile would have convinced her his spirits were entirely recovered.

"Yes?"

"My cousin Serafina would have a wish to ask of you, if she could be here. Would you mind if I ask it in her stead?"

She blinked at him in surprise, but said, "Of course. What is it that she would wish for?"

"True love."