In the Name of the Goddess
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marysuevirusTitle: In the Name of the Goddess
Book One: Heulwen, Chapter Three: The Return, Part 2
Fandom: a cross between the Marvel Universe and Arthurian Legend
Rating: mature.
Warnings: there will be violence and sex. maybe not language. but definitely the others. lots of religous references
Disclaimer: the Marvel men, even though hiding behind other names, do not belong to me. they belong to Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm simply borrowing them for the fun of it. i like putting them through hell, don't you know? i'm not making money from this, either. so don't even consider what you can score off me. i'm broke. not a penny to my name. the Sues belong to the women who thought them up, namely Dazzledfirestar, Nan, SFC, Gin and myself. don't steal them. they'll kick your ass. the name and concept of the Mary Sue Virus belong to Daz, who graciously allowed me to use it for my own personal pleasure.
A/Ns: some of this was written by Daz. i think it worked out rather awesomely, even though she wrote it months ago.
In the Name of the Goddess - the Index
"Damhnait! If you do not settle your backside in that chair, I will take my best spoon to it! You are much too close to your time to be working as you are." Heulwen stared at her daughter with that look she knew could freeze any of her children in their paths. The girl, ripe with child and ready to bring the babe into the world, stared at her mother for only a moment or two before she turned and waddled her way to the chair by the fire. When she settled, Heulwen turned back to the bread dough she was kneading. After being allowed to rise, it would be baked for the feast tomorrow.
Damhnait's mate, as well as her sons and Celyn, were out in the forest with the rest of the village men, hunting for meat to serve at the feast. A finger of disquiet worked its way up her spine, making her pause with her knuckles buried deep in the bread dough. This was the third time she'd felt it today. Obviously, something was trying to warn her of some tragic event coming.
She scoffed and made to push the thoughts aside. What tragic event could come her way? Anything that involved her or her family would come to her through the magic of nature or the animals. They'd brought her nothing, so she had to be imagining things. She went back to her bread dough, fingers manipulating it agilely.
The beast's feet pounded the forest floor, a red haze of anger driving its actions. Pain was spiraling through it, an arrow lodged between its shoulders, though the tip hadn't dug deep enough to find its heart. Enraged, it was giving chase to the creatures responsible. There was a squeal, then a high cry of pain as the animal's tusks sank deep into soft flesh. Ripped and tore and...
A gasp was pulled from Heulwen's throat as fingers gone numb with shock and disbelief dropped the mound of dough they'd been working. Damhnait and her younger sister looked at her with concern in her eyes. "Mum? Is something amiss?"
Heulwen didn't see her daughter. Instead, she saw Talfryn's eyes filled with tears as he stared down at his father. She saw Celyn stretched out on the ground, hands pressing vainly against the wound in his belly. She saw blood slipping between his fingers to coat his hands and stain the forest floor. "Celyn!"
Mindless with fear and grief, she ran from the cottage. The door made a loud thud as it slapped the wall when she pulled it open. She vaguely heard her daughters' voices calling after her. But all of her concentration was given over to a fear she'd never given voice to. Her feet flew over the ground, bare beneath her skirts. She imagined she made a sight, hair and garb flowing out behind her as she ran. As they had so long ago, the trees made way for her as she lost herself on forgotten paths. They whispered their sorrow to her, allowed their leaves and hanging vines to trail across her skin.
Then she was breaking through the trees into a clearing that she knew she would never again step foot into. Talfryn was bent over his father, hands coated red as they tried to stop the flow of blood. Her son in law was there, as well, his hands just as slick with Celyn's life's blood. "Don't go, Father. We'll find the healer." There were tears in the lad's voice. And guilt. It thickened his words.
"By the Gods! Celyn!" Heulwen dropped to her knees beside him. She'd never seen him look so old before. His hair was more silver than golden and the wrinkles marked the hardships and joys of his life into his face. His eyes flickered open as her hand curled around his. Already, it was growing cold. "No, Celyn. You can't leave me. I'm not ready for this."
"We both knew this day would one day come, my love. It seems it has come to us sooner than later. Don't weep for me. I know you're stronger than that." His voice was soft. She could hear the pain in it. Could hear that Death was coming for him. She turned panicked eyes to her son and saw the sadness heavy in his gaze.
"You won't leave me. I won't allow it." She pushed Talfryn's hands away so that she could examine his wound. All she saw was blood. It poured from his belly like a fountain, draining his strength and life away as it did so. "I'll heal this. Cernunnos! You miserable bastard! Don't take him from me! Heal him now! Please, All Father. I beg of you. Spare him."
"You know he won't, my sweet." Celyn's hand curled around her wrist, bringing her attention back to him. "Don't cry for me. This isn't the end. I'm not afraid of my death. Allow me to go with your smile filling my memory and your love filling my heart."
"No," she shook her head, frantic to find a way to heal him. He caught her other wrist in his free hand and tugged them both toward his face with surprising strength. "Don't leave me, Celyn. I do not think I'll survive without you. Please, my love. Please don't go."
He kissed her hands, smearing his blood against his lips and his cheeks. With the last of his strength, he pressed both bloodied extremities against his chest. She felt the slow, irregular beat of his heart. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. "Do not let my memory die, my love. Carry me in it always. And know that these years with you have been the happiest of my life. I love you, my lady."
His fingers released their grip on her wrists and slid away, leaving his arms limp at his sides. She knelt in the leaves and dirt and watched as the light slid from his eyes. The forest was silent around her, its breath held as it waited for her to react. She leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips, soft and warm and pliant still. "And I love you, Celyn. From this life into the next."
Heulwen lowered her head to his chest and allowed the tears to fall, gave voice to her grief with loud, mournful sobs. And the forest answered, a low moaning wind whipping through the trees while wolves and foxes and other animals howled out their grief with their mistress.
~*~
The pyre had burnt itself out hours ago and the mound had been raised over his ashes. The family and the guests had already returned to their eldest son’s home nearby for the customary feasting and drinking in celebration of the Celyn and life he had lived.
She wanted none of that. No amount of food or drink or misspoken comfort from friends and family would take away the emptiness that filled her. She had no reason to stay now. No reason to continue in this life she’d lived with him; for him.
“Mother?”
She didn’t turn to face her son. “Go back to your guests, Talfryn.”
He frowned. He’d always known there was something different about his mother. Especially now when one would expect the widow to match her husband’s age; she looked more like she should have been his sister than his mother. Talfryn’s father had shrugged off any questions about it from his children and his friends. Your mother is blessed. It is not up for discussion. That had been the only answer he’d ever given.
“Mother, they are your guests too. Please,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “come inside.”
“I am in no mood to share my grief, Talfryn. Go back without me.”
“Mother…”
She saw the question before it had fully formed in his mind. “I cannot tell you more, my son. Please, leave me be.”
“There was always something father never wanted to discuss.”
“I’m sure Celyn had his reasons.” Her hand rested on the mound in front of her. Even speaking his name left her aching but she drew strength from the earth that held him now. Her eyes closed and she could almost see him as he was when she had met him; brash, reckless, blond hair caught in the wind, blowing in front of blue eyes that she swore could see straight through her and know exactly what she was. And he had. He’d known the moment he saw her, and never once had he questioned it. That in itself was a miracle, that one so bold would accept something so fantastical. She had learned why eventually. Her fingers still burned to touch the rune on his chest again.
Talfryn braced himself. Perhaps it was too soon after his father’s death to push her. She had seemed so drawn, so frail even in the image of youth she always wore. “Mother, there have been rumors for years.”
“Talfryn, please…”
“Mother,” he kept his voice low, “what are you?”
“I am your mother.”
He frowned. “That is not an answer.”
“It is an answer. It is not the answer you are looking for, but it is an answer.”
“Father was some kind of priest in his youth.” Talfryn turned her to face him. “There are stories of him summoning his goddess to his side to help him save this village.”
She looked her son in the eye. Eyes like his father’s… “You are so like him.” She reached forward, pressing her palm to his cheek. “He was so proud of you. And so am I.”
He wouldn’t be stopped. “Some say that you…”
“Some say.” She shook her head and a dismissive, disdainful sound left her lips. “What is said about me is not the truth. Leave it at that.”
“That you are of the fae, or a…”
“I am no monster.” Her eyes narrowed. “Would a monster have loved her husband, her children as I do? Would I have raised you to be the good man you are now?” She placed both hands on the earth that encased what was left of Celyn. “Would you father have ever…” her hands tensed for a moment and Talfryn wondered for a moment what the earth, or his father, was telling her. She stepped back, trying to reign in her temper.
“I never believed you a monster.”
“Well, that is comforting.”
He stepped closer to her. “I should know where I come from, Mother.”
“You are your father’s son.”
“I am your son as well.”
She sighed. Something about the conversation was straining her more than it should, even given the topic. She seemed tired, drained. “Go home, Talfryn.”
He shook his head. “No. I need to know.”
She studied the man in front of her. So like his father. Even the tone of his voice… “It is not that simple.” She rubbed her temple, as if the right words would simply come to her if she rubbed hard enough. “Your father… Celyn was able to draw the attention of his goddess. He only ever loved her. He was always faithful. And she only ever loved him.”
“And what happened to this goddess?” Talfryn thought he knew the answer. He had seen the love between his parents every day of his life. Even in the end, they had had to pry their mother from their father’s side.
“She loved him all the days of his life. Bore him children. Lived happily in a mortal life with him.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, freshly sprung from the memories her words called up.
“Mother?”
She turned her full attention to her son. “Live well, Talfryn. I will watch over you and your brothers and sisters.”
“Stay a little longer.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “At least through the winter.”
She shook her head, pulling away from both her son and her husband’s mound. “I love all of you. I could not be prouder of the people my darling babies have become. But…” she paused, glancing back at the mound. Would her son understand? She hoped he would; that he would not see her words as a betrayal. “I am not here for you or your brothers or sisters. I was here for Celyn.”
“Mother, please.” He thought of his sister. Perhaps that would sway her from leaving so soon. “Stay until Damhnait has her baby. See your grandchild.”
“I will come back for that.” She smiled through her tears. “Though none of you may notice.” Her voice sounded weak. “I… I can not go back as I am. I need… time.”
“Then stay.”
She shook her head. “No, you misunderstand. I need time away from this life. Time to be the other parts of who I am; of what I am. Time to grieve your father in a way that…” Her words dropped off and rather than continue, she simply shook her head again. As she spoke, a stag stepped out from the trees that surrounded the clearing. Behind him came a wizened old man wearing a cloak of sorrow and respect.
The hunter in Talfryn noted its size, its strength, but there was something otherworldly about the creature. It wandered closer with none of the fear that most animals had around humans, no matter how softly one stepped. It walked up to his mother, staring down at her with eyes that were far too knowing to be a simple animal. It bent low, careful of its impressive antlers and nudged her. She looked up at it and smiled, patting its snout.
Talfryn’s jaw dropped. His voice, when he found it again was soft and reverent. “The Hafgan Stag.”
His mother looked at him again. “I am many things, my son. Your mother is not the least of them, but I am also his protector.” She stepped away from the stag and back to her son. She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Promise me one thing, Talfryn.”
“Anything.”
“Remember me. Remember the stories of your father and of me. Tell Damhnait’s child and all the other children you will all have those stories. Do not let us be forgotten.” Tears fell from her eyes again. “Promise me that much.”
“I promise.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Live well, Talfryn. Tell the others that I love them, but… my time here is done.” She leaned on the mound again, resting both hands against it and whispering to the earth. Her voice was too quiet for him to hear, but he was sure they were words of love to his father, to her Celyn. The last of her speech he did hear. “I will see you soon.” Her fingers traced the dirt, forming two runes before she pulled back.
One he knew. The Bow, the mark that he’d seen on his father’s chest. No doubt the mark of the goddess he’d loved. The mark of Talfryn’s mother. The other he did not know. It was simple. A straight line and two shorter ones meeting at the top of the first. It looked to him like an arrow. He supposed it made sense. They fit together. The two things represented completed each other, as his parents had. So, the arrow was the mark of his father.
"My lady Heulwen, we must go." These words came from the old man. His white hair and long, white beard sparked a memory for Talfryn. He'd heard stories of a great sorcerer, a man of immense power. A man called Merlin. Was it possible this was him?
His mother moved back a few more steps, drawn away by the stag at her side. “Go home, Talfryn.” The old man followed her. The odd trio was on their way toward the nearby edge of the forest.
He turned without a word and started off toward the village. A glimmer caught his attention and, looking over his shoulder, he saw the shapes of the stag and his mother move into the trees. The old man was gone. A flash, like sunlight off water blinded him to them for a moment and when he could see again, he couldn’t find her. He saw the stag walking slowly near the edge of the woods, but there was no shape of a person, no sign of the woman that had left with the creature. In her place, he caught a glimpse of a snow white doe. It was almost too pure, too ghostly to be real, but there it was moving between the trees. It stopped, as if it knew it was being watched and it turned. Eyes as green as new spring shoots stared back at him. No doe would have eyes that color, he was sure. They were too… human. They were his mother’s eyes. He caught the meaning of the look.
His mother or what was left of the woman that had been his mother had said goodbye.
The doe was seen throughout the winter and many in the village questioned it. Was it an omen they’d missed? Did the white doe bring the long hard cold? Had she tried to warn them? Only Talfryn and his siblings knew what she was, and then only vaguely. The winter, the freezing, blistering cold was a reaction to the doe; to what the doe carried.
One of the old women in the village said she saw the doe near the mounds, lying down by one, and she swore she saw tears in the creature’s eyes. She was laughed off by the new man in town, this missionary for some God or other. Many paid him no mind when he spoke of how such things as this winter were a judgment by his God for their belief in the ‘false’ Gods. The older folk and the wise among them laughed him off. One such woman, the one who had seen the doe cry laughed in his face. “You are a fool, bringing that nonsense in here!” She shook her fist at him. “There are those here who know the truth, who remember!”
This missionary waved her off and spotted a group of younger members of the village’s population, people obviously not as set in their beliefs. “What of you, boy? What say you?”
The young man’s eyes narrowed. “I say am not your ‘boy’.” He stood, revealing his height as several inches more than this angry little man. “I say I am Talfryn, son of Celyn and Heulwen and you are leaving. Now.”
The man had been in the village long enough to hear the stories from the generation before. “You are no such thing! Your parents lied to you to cover their sins! You spout lies and blasphemies! Tales for children and old fools!” The missionary found himself spitting curses at the cold side of the tavern door. The snow hid the doe from his sight, but she smiled on his misfortune.
The winter was Heulwen’s way of mourning her love and her life that she’d led with him. The snow that mired everyone’s travels showed all the frustration she had felt. The cold carried the bitterness of watching him fade from her and not being able to stop it; of knowing it was the course things must take. There were nights when the old of the village swore they could hear sobbing on the cutting wind. But every winter ends.
The snow was beginning to melt when Damhnait had her child, and warm spring breezes blew through the village for the days following. Talfryn was holding his nephew when something outside caught his attention. He left the house, still holding the baby, sheltering him against his chest. “Mother?”
The doe tilted her head and stared at him for a moment. Then she moved forward with the same lack of fear and the same otherworldly feeling that the Hafgan Stag had shown so many months earlier. Part of him expected to see the creature melt away and reveal his mother to him, but whatever the shape in front of him he could see that she was there in the eyes.
“They named him Heulyn. We haven’t forgotten.” He held up a rough amulet; the work of Damhnait’s husband. He was a good smith and on Talfryn’s request he had made one for each of them. It held two runes. The Bow and The Arrow. “We all have one.”
He could swear later that the doe smiled before taking off toward the trees. He watched her until a glimmer make him lose track of her path. He couldn’t find it again, and part of him was sure she was gone. Some sense told him she had left this world. She was where she belonged, and with her Celyn again.
The winter was finally over.
~*~*~*~*~
Her poppets were crying softly, tears sliding down their cheeks. The old woman knew that there were tears glimmering on her own cheeks. The sadness that had taken the Goddess Heulwen never failed to make her cry. Brialle was watching them with a scowl on her face. "Now, now, my poppets. There's no reason to be so sad. No doubt Heulwen met with her beautiful hunter again in the Gods' realm. And no doubt they are together for all eternity."
"But, Gran... She loved him. She truly loved him." The oldest looked as if she might be a little star struck by the story. Celyn had that affect on people.
"Aye, my sweet. She did. And now you must go curl up in your bed and seek your rest. Tomorrow, I shall tell you of one of the other sisters." The news soothed their sorrows and the three of them climbed to their feet and hurried to prepare themselves for bed. Brialle crossed the room to where her mother sat.
"No more of this nonsense, Mum! No stories tomorrow."
"There will be twelve more nights of tales, and then there will be no more. After the twelfth night, I will be leaving you for good. Then you may tell your girls stories of your one God and whatever else you like." The old woman rose to her feet. "But this is my legacy to my grandchildren. I will finish telling the girls my stories. After that, you'll be rid of me."
Brialle frowned at her mother's words. "Mum, you don't have to leave. I just wish..."
"Foolish girl! Twelve days is all the longer I have. I can feel it in my bones! Pester me no further on this matter. I will do what I chose." She left Brialle standing in the middle of the cottage, gaping after her.
The old woman climbed into her bed and tugged the blankets up to her chin. Less than a fortnight left. She understood the coming of the winter now. She would be glad to finally see it come to an end.
All of it.
Book One: Heulwen, Chapter Three: The Return, Part 2
Fandom: a cross between the Marvel Universe and Arthurian Legend
Rating: mature.
Warnings: there will be violence and sex. maybe not language. but definitely the others. lots of religous references
Disclaimer: the Marvel men, even though hiding behind other names, do not belong to me. they belong to Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm simply borrowing them for the fun of it. i like putting them through hell, don't you know? i'm not making money from this, either. so don't even consider what you can score off me. i'm broke. not a penny to my name. the Sues belong to the women who thought them up, namely Dazzledfirestar, Nan, SFC, Gin and myself. don't steal them. they'll kick your ass. the name and concept of the Mary Sue Virus belong to Daz, who graciously allowed me to use it for my own personal pleasure.
A/Ns: some of this was written by Daz. i think it worked out rather awesomely, even though she wrote it months ago.
In the Name of the Goddess - the Index
"Damhnait! If you do not settle your backside in that chair, I will take my best spoon to it! You are much too close to your time to be working as you are." Heulwen stared at her daughter with that look she knew could freeze any of her children in their paths. The girl, ripe with child and ready to bring the babe into the world, stared at her mother for only a moment or two before she turned and waddled her way to the chair by the fire. When she settled, Heulwen turned back to the bread dough she was kneading. After being allowed to rise, it would be baked for the feast tomorrow.
Damhnait's mate, as well as her sons and Celyn, were out in the forest with the rest of the village men, hunting for meat to serve at the feast. A finger of disquiet worked its way up her spine, making her pause with her knuckles buried deep in the bread dough. This was the third time she'd felt it today. Obviously, something was trying to warn her of some tragic event coming.
She scoffed and made to push the thoughts aside. What tragic event could come her way? Anything that involved her or her family would come to her through the magic of nature or the animals. They'd brought her nothing, so she had to be imagining things. She went back to her bread dough, fingers manipulating it agilely.
The beast's feet pounded the forest floor, a red haze of anger driving its actions. Pain was spiraling through it, an arrow lodged between its shoulders, though the tip hadn't dug deep enough to find its heart. Enraged, it was giving chase to the creatures responsible. There was a squeal, then a high cry of pain as the animal's tusks sank deep into soft flesh. Ripped and tore and...
A gasp was pulled from Heulwen's throat as fingers gone numb with shock and disbelief dropped the mound of dough they'd been working. Damhnait and her younger sister looked at her with concern in her eyes. "Mum? Is something amiss?"
Heulwen didn't see her daughter. Instead, she saw Talfryn's eyes filled with tears as he stared down at his father. She saw Celyn stretched out on the ground, hands pressing vainly against the wound in his belly. She saw blood slipping between his fingers to coat his hands and stain the forest floor. "Celyn!"
Mindless with fear and grief, she ran from the cottage. The door made a loud thud as it slapped the wall when she pulled it open. She vaguely heard her daughters' voices calling after her. But all of her concentration was given over to a fear she'd never given voice to. Her feet flew over the ground, bare beneath her skirts. She imagined she made a sight, hair and garb flowing out behind her as she ran. As they had so long ago, the trees made way for her as she lost herself on forgotten paths. They whispered their sorrow to her, allowed their leaves and hanging vines to trail across her skin.
Then she was breaking through the trees into a clearing that she knew she would never again step foot into. Talfryn was bent over his father, hands coated red as they tried to stop the flow of blood. Her son in law was there, as well, his hands just as slick with Celyn's life's blood. "Don't go, Father. We'll find the healer." There were tears in the lad's voice. And guilt. It thickened his words.
"By the Gods! Celyn!" Heulwen dropped to her knees beside him. She'd never seen him look so old before. His hair was more silver than golden and the wrinkles marked the hardships and joys of his life into his face. His eyes flickered open as her hand curled around his. Already, it was growing cold. "No, Celyn. You can't leave me. I'm not ready for this."
"We both knew this day would one day come, my love. It seems it has come to us sooner than later. Don't weep for me. I know you're stronger than that." His voice was soft. She could hear the pain in it. Could hear that Death was coming for him. She turned panicked eyes to her son and saw the sadness heavy in his gaze.
"You won't leave me. I won't allow it." She pushed Talfryn's hands away so that she could examine his wound. All she saw was blood. It poured from his belly like a fountain, draining his strength and life away as it did so. "I'll heal this. Cernunnos! You miserable bastard! Don't take him from me! Heal him now! Please, All Father. I beg of you. Spare him."
"You know he won't, my sweet." Celyn's hand curled around her wrist, bringing her attention back to him. "Don't cry for me. This isn't the end. I'm not afraid of my death. Allow me to go with your smile filling my memory and your love filling my heart."
"No," she shook her head, frantic to find a way to heal him. He caught her other wrist in his free hand and tugged them both toward his face with surprising strength. "Don't leave me, Celyn. I do not think I'll survive without you. Please, my love. Please don't go."
He kissed her hands, smearing his blood against his lips and his cheeks. With the last of his strength, he pressed both bloodied extremities against his chest. She felt the slow, irregular beat of his heart. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. "Do not let my memory die, my love. Carry me in it always. And know that these years with you have been the happiest of my life. I love you, my lady."
His fingers released their grip on her wrists and slid away, leaving his arms limp at his sides. She knelt in the leaves and dirt and watched as the light slid from his eyes. The forest was silent around her, its breath held as it waited for her to react. She leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips, soft and warm and pliant still. "And I love you, Celyn. From this life into the next."
Heulwen lowered her head to his chest and allowed the tears to fall, gave voice to her grief with loud, mournful sobs. And the forest answered, a low moaning wind whipping through the trees while wolves and foxes and other animals howled out their grief with their mistress.
~*~
The pyre had burnt itself out hours ago and the mound had been raised over his ashes. The family and the guests had already returned to their eldest son’s home nearby for the customary feasting and drinking in celebration of the Celyn and life he had lived.
She wanted none of that. No amount of food or drink or misspoken comfort from friends and family would take away the emptiness that filled her. She had no reason to stay now. No reason to continue in this life she’d lived with him; for him.
“Mother?”
She didn’t turn to face her son. “Go back to your guests, Talfryn.”
He frowned. He’d always known there was something different about his mother. Especially now when one would expect the widow to match her husband’s age; she looked more like she should have been his sister than his mother. Talfryn’s father had shrugged off any questions about it from his children and his friends. Your mother is blessed. It is not up for discussion. That had been the only answer he’d ever given.
“Mother, they are your guests too. Please,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “come inside.”
“I am in no mood to share my grief, Talfryn. Go back without me.”
“Mother…”
She saw the question before it had fully formed in his mind. “I cannot tell you more, my son. Please, leave me be.”
“There was always something father never wanted to discuss.”
“I’m sure Celyn had his reasons.” Her hand rested on the mound in front of her. Even speaking his name left her aching but she drew strength from the earth that held him now. Her eyes closed and she could almost see him as he was when she had met him; brash, reckless, blond hair caught in the wind, blowing in front of blue eyes that she swore could see straight through her and know exactly what she was. And he had. He’d known the moment he saw her, and never once had he questioned it. That in itself was a miracle, that one so bold would accept something so fantastical. She had learned why eventually. Her fingers still burned to touch the rune on his chest again.
Talfryn braced himself. Perhaps it was too soon after his father’s death to push her. She had seemed so drawn, so frail even in the image of youth she always wore. “Mother, there have been rumors for years.”
“Talfryn, please…”
“Mother,” he kept his voice low, “what are you?”
“I am your mother.”
He frowned. “That is not an answer.”
“It is an answer. It is not the answer you are looking for, but it is an answer.”
“Father was some kind of priest in his youth.” Talfryn turned her to face him. “There are stories of him summoning his goddess to his side to help him save this village.”
She looked her son in the eye. Eyes like his father’s… “You are so like him.” She reached forward, pressing her palm to his cheek. “He was so proud of you. And so am I.”
He wouldn’t be stopped. “Some say that you…”
“Some say.” She shook her head and a dismissive, disdainful sound left her lips. “What is said about me is not the truth. Leave it at that.”
“That you are of the fae, or a…”
“I am no monster.” Her eyes narrowed. “Would a monster have loved her husband, her children as I do? Would I have raised you to be the good man you are now?” She placed both hands on the earth that encased what was left of Celyn. “Would you father have ever…” her hands tensed for a moment and Talfryn wondered for a moment what the earth, or his father, was telling her. She stepped back, trying to reign in her temper.
“I never believed you a monster.”
“Well, that is comforting.”
He stepped closer to her. “I should know where I come from, Mother.”
“You are your father’s son.”
“I am your son as well.”
She sighed. Something about the conversation was straining her more than it should, even given the topic. She seemed tired, drained. “Go home, Talfryn.”
He shook his head. “No. I need to know.”
She studied the man in front of her. So like his father. Even the tone of his voice… “It is not that simple.” She rubbed her temple, as if the right words would simply come to her if she rubbed hard enough. “Your father… Celyn was able to draw the attention of his goddess. He only ever loved her. He was always faithful. And she only ever loved him.”
“And what happened to this goddess?” Talfryn thought he knew the answer. He had seen the love between his parents every day of his life. Even in the end, they had had to pry their mother from their father’s side.
“She loved him all the days of his life. Bore him children. Lived happily in a mortal life with him.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, freshly sprung from the memories her words called up.
“Mother?”
She turned her full attention to her son. “Live well, Talfryn. I will watch over you and your brothers and sisters.”
“Stay a little longer.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “At least through the winter.”
She shook her head, pulling away from both her son and her husband’s mound. “I love all of you. I could not be prouder of the people my darling babies have become. But…” she paused, glancing back at the mound. Would her son understand? She hoped he would; that he would not see her words as a betrayal. “I am not here for you or your brothers or sisters. I was here for Celyn.”
“Mother, please.” He thought of his sister. Perhaps that would sway her from leaving so soon. “Stay until Damhnait has her baby. See your grandchild.”
“I will come back for that.” She smiled through her tears. “Though none of you may notice.” Her voice sounded weak. “I… I can not go back as I am. I need… time.”
“Then stay.”
She shook her head. “No, you misunderstand. I need time away from this life. Time to be the other parts of who I am; of what I am. Time to grieve your father in a way that…” Her words dropped off and rather than continue, she simply shook her head again. As she spoke, a stag stepped out from the trees that surrounded the clearing. Behind him came a wizened old man wearing a cloak of sorrow and respect.
The hunter in Talfryn noted its size, its strength, but there was something otherworldly about the creature. It wandered closer with none of the fear that most animals had around humans, no matter how softly one stepped. It walked up to his mother, staring down at her with eyes that were far too knowing to be a simple animal. It bent low, careful of its impressive antlers and nudged her. She looked up at it and smiled, patting its snout.
Talfryn’s jaw dropped. His voice, when he found it again was soft and reverent. “The Hafgan Stag.”
His mother looked at him again. “I am many things, my son. Your mother is not the least of them, but I am also his protector.” She stepped away from the stag and back to her son. She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Promise me one thing, Talfryn.”
“Anything.”
“Remember me. Remember the stories of your father and of me. Tell Damhnait’s child and all the other children you will all have those stories. Do not let us be forgotten.” Tears fell from her eyes again. “Promise me that much.”
“I promise.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Live well, Talfryn. Tell the others that I love them, but… my time here is done.” She leaned on the mound again, resting both hands against it and whispering to the earth. Her voice was too quiet for him to hear, but he was sure they were words of love to his father, to her Celyn. The last of her speech he did hear. “I will see you soon.” Her fingers traced the dirt, forming two runes before she pulled back.
One he knew. The Bow, the mark that he’d seen on his father’s chest. No doubt the mark of the goddess he’d loved. The mark of Talfryn’s mother. The other he did not know. It was simple. A straight line and two shorter ones meeting at the top of the first. It looked to him like an arrow. He supposed it made sense. They fit together. The two things represented completed each other, as his parents had. So, the arrow was the mark of his father.
"My lady Heulwen, we must go." These words came from the old man. His white hair and long, white beard sparked a memory for Talfryn. He'd heard stories of a great sorcerer, a man of immense power. A man called Merlin. Was it possible this was him?
His mother moved back a few more steps, drawn away by the stag at her side. “Go home, Talfryn.” The old man followed her. The odd trio was on their way toward the nearby edge of the forest.
He turned without a word and started off toward the village. A glimmer caught his attention and, looking over his shoulder, he saw the shapes of the stag and his mother move into the trees. The old man was gone. A flash, like sunlight off water blinded him to them for a moment and when he could see again, he couldn’t find her. He saw the stag walking slowly near the edge of the woods, but there was no shape of a person, no sign of the woman that had left with the creature. In her place, he caught a glimpse of a snow white doe. It was almost too pure, too ghostly to be real, but there it was moving between the trees. It stopped, as if it knew it was being watched and it turned. Eyes as green as new spring shoots stared back at him. No doe would have eyes that color, he was sure. They were too… human. They were his mother’s eyes. He caught the meaning of the look.
His mother or what was left of the woman that had been his mother had said goodbye.
The doe was seen throughout the winter and many in the village questioned it. Was it an omen they’d missed? Did the white doe bring the long hard cold? Had she tried to warn them? Only Talfryn and his siblings knew what she was, and then only vaguely. The winter, the freezing, blistering cold was a reaction to the doe; to what the doe carried.
One of the old women in the village said she saw the doe near the mounds, lying down by one, and she swore she saw tears in the creature’s eyes. She was laughed off by the new man in town, this missionary for some God or other. Many paid him no mind when he spoke of how such things as this winter were a judgment by his God for their belief in the ‘false’ Gods. The older folk and the wise among them laughed him off. One such woman, the one who had seen the doe cry laughed in his face. “You are a fool, bringing that nonsense in here!” She shook her fist at him. “There are those here who know the truth, who remember!”
This missionary waved her off and spotted a group of younger members of the village’s population, people obviously not as set in their beliefs. “What of you, boy? What say you?”
The young man’s eyes narrowed. “I say am not your ‘boy’.” He stood, revealing his height as several inches more than this angry little man. “I say I am Talfryn, son of Celyn and Heulwen and you are leaving. Now.”
The man had been in the village long enough to hear the stories from the generation before. “You are no such thing! Your parents lied to you to cover their sins! You spout lies and blasphemies! Tales for children and old fools!” The missionary found himself spitting curses at the cold side of the tavern door. The snow hid the doe from his sight, but she smiled on his misfortune.
The winter was Heulwen’s way of mourning her love and her life that she’d led with him. The snow that mired everyone’s travels showed all the frustration she had felt. The cold carried the bitterness of watching him fade from her and not being able to stop it; of knowing it was the course things must take. There were nights when the old of the village swore they could hear sobbing on the cutting wind. But every winter ends.
The snow was beginning to melt when Damhnait had her child, and warm spring breezes blew through the village for the days following. Talfryn was holding his nephew when something outside caught his attention. He left the house, still holding the baby, sheltering him against his chest. “Mother?”
The doe tilted her head and stared at him for a moment. Then she moved forward with the same lack of fear and the same otherworldly feeling that the Hafgan Stag had shown so many months earlier. Part of him expected to see the creature melt away and reveal his mother to him, but whatever the shape in front of him he could see that she was there in the eyes.
“They named him Heulyn. We haven’t forgotten.” He held up a rough amulet; the work of Damhnait’s husband. He was a good smith and on Talfryn’s request he had made one for each of them. It held two runes. The Bow and The Arrow. “We all have one.”
He could swear later that the doe smiled before taking off toward the trees. He watched her until a glimmer make him lose track of her path. He couldn’t find it again, and part of him was sure she was gone. Some sense told him she had left this world. She was where she belonged, and with her Celyn again.
The winter was finally over.
~*~*~*~*~
Her poppets were crying softly, tears sliding down their cheeks. The old woman knew that there were tears glimmering on her own cheeks. The sadness that had taken the Goddess Heulwen never failed to make her cry. Brialle was watching them with a scowl on her face. "Now, now, my poppets. There's no reason to be so sad. No doubt Heulwen met with her beautiful hunter again in the Gods' realm. And no doubt they are together for all eternity."
"But, Gran... She loved him. She truly loved him." The oldest looked as if she might be a little star struck by the story. Celyn had that affect on people.
"Aye, my sweet. She did. And now you must go curl up in your bed and seek your rest. Tomorrow, I shall tell you of one of the other sisters." The news soothed their sorrows and the three of them climbed to their feet and hurried to prepare themselves for bed. Brialle crossed the room to where her mother sat.
"No more of this nonsense, Mum! No stories tomorrow."
"There will be twelve more nights of tales, and then there will be no more. After the twelfth night, I will be leaving you for good. Then you may tell your girls stories of your one God and whatever else you like." The old woman rose to her feet. "But this is my legacy to my grandchildren. I will finish telling the girls my stories. After that, you'll be rid of me."
Brialle frowned at her mother's words. "Mum, you don't have to leave. I just wish..."
"Foolish girl! Twelve days is all the longer I have. I can feel it in my bones! Pester me no further on this matter. I will do what I chose." She left Brialle standing in the middle of the cottage, gaping after her.
The old woman climbed into her bed and tugged the blankets up to her chin. Less than a fortnight left. She understood the coming of the winter now. She would be glad to finally see it come to an end.
All of it.
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(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-16 04:08 am (UTC)The whole thing is absolutely beautiful, hun. You did a lovely job covering their life together. I can't believe how well those tiny silly bits I sent you fit in. :)
Great work, hun. Can't wait to see who's next!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-16 04:16 am (UTC)i'm so glad you loved how this worked. i was so glad i could include what you wrote and that it just worked. i strongly believe that Celyn would be all about his kids.
glad you enjoyed it, hon. we'll see how it goes the next time around.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-17 04:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-17 06:14 am (UTC)gotta be PMS.