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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

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Chapter Fifty - Six:

Aidan stood in a corner of the grand hall. The air was thick with the sounds of merriment; the round table heavy with food. A wild boar had been found for the feast. Its tusked faces stared lifelessly at them. Dancers littered the area before the throne. Various shades of red, brown, and green swirled about the stone floor. Artor was upon his throne, his head resting on one hand, a goblet of wine in the other. He was lazily engaged in conversation with Myrddin who seemed to have had a bit too much to drink.

Aidan’s eyes searched the sea of faces for Riona. They found her among a small clump of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. She was smiling broadly and seemed to be emphatically telling the group a story. The women listened with rapt expressions. Riona had grown comfortable among them. It was hard to believe that this glowing young woman, dressed in finery, hair intricately braided, was the same reclusive and mistrustful Riona they had found in a stone hut on the shores of Cornwall.

Aidan felt a presence at their side and glanced over their shoulder. Ser Lamorak stood beside them, calm as ever, casually sipping on mulled wine.

“I heard the King has pardoned you,” he said softly.

“Aye, at the behest of Ser Luc.”

“You are a gifted military leader,” said Lamorak, switching topics rapidly, “The Round Table could use someone like you.”

“Already recruiting and only a few hours a Knight?”

Lamorak chuckled.

“It was an observation, nothing more.”

Aidan made a neutral sound in their throat.

‘How much longer will you be staying in Castra?”

Aidan sighed through their nose.

“Leave on the morrow if I can help it.”

“Will Riona be leaving with you?” Lamorak asked casually. Aidan felt a jolt of surprise down their spine. They had not considered the possibility that Riona may be content to remain here among her new-found friends.

“I-I do not know,” they finally stammered in response.

“She will be sorely missed,” said Lamorak, taking his leave.

As if to punctuate this thought Aidan watched as Gawain approached Riona and bowed, one hand proffered toward her. Riona blushed bright pink but the urging of the other ladies took Gawain’s hand and let him lead her among the dancers. Aidan felt their stomach twist into a knot. Gawain was obviously not a practiced dancer, Riona, however, did not seem to mind. Her eyes were focused brightly upon the new Knight’s face. Her lips parted permanently in a wide smile. Gawain’s wide hands drew her close and he whispered something in Riona’s ear. Riona’s expression shifted slightly and she looked up at Gawain coyly beneath her lashes. Aidan felt an invisible hand grip their heart. They forced their breath to come in short, steady bursts. The song ended and finally Gawain released Riona from his arms. As the drums signaled the start of a new song Aidan felt their feet moving forward of their own accord. In what seemed too short a time they were standing mutely before Riona, whose face held a look of surprise.

“Aidan?”

Aidan felt uncharacteristically frozen in fear. They could feel the eyes of the lords and ladies around them burrowing into their flesh. Aidan swallowed thickly and straightened up to their full height. Riona’s grew eyes were wide with concern.

“May I have this dance, Riognach?”

Aidan saw a flash of emotion in Riona’s eyes as they used her full name.

With a steady motion they held our their right hand palm up. Riona never took her eyes off of Aidan’s face as she delicately placed her hand in theirs. Aidan felt their lips part in a smile. They drew Riona into the dance, one hand on the small of her back.

The pair bowed to each other and then began. Aidan lost sight of the rest of the room; it seemed blurry and distant compared to Riona, who was shining more brilliantly than a star. Even the music grew dull in Aidan’s ears. They drew together, separated, and then spun, switching partners and then returning. Repeating this pattern about the room. Finally the pattern of the dance allowed the two of them to encircle one arm about each other’s waists. Riona’s free hand rested on Aidan’s chest.

“You’re trembling,” said Aidan softly, placing their hand over hers.

“Am I?” Riona turned her face away, “Perhaps it’s the wine...”

“Best watch how much you drink,” said Aidan jokingly, “Wouldn’t want you to do something you’ll regret in the morning.”

Riona flinched at this.

“I was joking, Riona-I didn’t mean—“

Riona stopped dancing and pulled away.

“Riona—“

Riona moved quickly through the crowd. Aidan followed, already their mouth tasted bitter with guilt. Riona was at the door, stepping through the courtyard outside. Aidan hurried their steps and easily caught up with her.

“Go away,” she demanded.

“Riona, please, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Except to remind me that you are my keeper,” Riona snapped back.

Aidan’s mouth hung open in surprise as she continued.

“Has it occurred to you that I am a woman grown?”

“I am sorry,” Aidan said sincerely, their eyes fixed on their feet. They heard Riona sigh sharply and glanced up. She was looking upward at the night sky, her arms crossed firmly across her chest.

“You want to leave, don’t you?” she asked quietly. The music and laughter coming form the hall seemed to dissipate into the summer air.

“I have no reason to say any longer, “ was Aidan’s numb response, “but Riona...you...you do not need to accompany me.”

Riona’s head snapped down sharply and she fixed Aidan in an incredulous stare.

“Do you not want me to continue on with you?”

An expression of hurt quickly overwhelmed the other mixture of emotions on her face.

“Of course I do—“

“Then how can you say that?”

Aidan made an exasperated noise and raised their hands in surrender. Glistening tears were now slowly trailing down Riona’s cheeks but she stood still as stone. Her eyes silently demanded answers they did not have.

“You have made many friends here. You could live a very happy life.”

Aidan silently thought of Gawain but the idea burned too brightly for them to speak it aloud. Riona’s lip quivered and she wiped hastily at her tears.

“I am going with you.”

“Riona think on this. I can offer you nothing. Here you would be save. Fed. You could learn from Myrddin...” Riona was staring at Aidan so fiercely they let the sentence die, “What?” they sighed.

Riona took two steps toward them until she stood just beneath their shin. She reached upward and took Aidan’s face in her hands. Rising to the tips of her toas she pressed her lips to theirs. Aidan’s eyes widened in surprise as a wave of warmth washed over them. With a soft breath they shut them and drew Riona into their arms. She was so slight, they almost lifted her off the ground. Her lips were soft, insistent. Aidan let out a small gasp as Riona’s fingers traced their jaw and neck. They could taste the wine on her tongue. A tinge of guilt pricked Aidan’s stomach. With a gentle sound they pulled away.

“Riona...you cannot want this.”

Riona’s hands knotted in the front of Aidan’s tunic.

“Why shouldn’t I?” she demanded softly.

“Because you are young, beautiful. The most caring and intelligent person I have ever met. You deserve more than this, than me.”

Riona was looking at Aidan so earnestly they felt their heart rise and choke their throat.

“Aidan...” the sound of their name on her tongue was so sweet.

“I love you.”

The words hung heavily in the air. Aidan breathed in slowly and drew Riona into their arms.

“I know...but you should not, Riognach.”

“I know my own heart, Aidan Andraste,” Riona said with a soft laugh.

“Riona, I am not—you are—“ before the thought could solidify Riona had drawn Aidan into another kiss. This one deeper than the alst. Aidan tangled their fingers in her hair, ruining the intricate braiding. Riona’s teeth gently pricked Aidan’s bottom lip; their heart began to beat quickly. Her hands wandered over Aidan’s back, the blood rushing through their veins was loud in Aidan’s ears. Riona’s tongue played at the edges of Aidan’s lip and they let out a soft moan. Aidan felt Riona smile at the sound. Aidan forced themself to push away.

“We cannot do this,” their voice was soft, but insistent.

“Tell me why,” Riona’s words trembled slightly.

Aidan took Riona’s face in their hands. Her eyes were full of hurt and unspoken accusations.

“Because in this life I have only hurt those that I care about the most. I inevitably destroy the people I love. I do not want that for you.

“So you do not love me?” Riona’s face grew suddenly calm.

“I did not—Riona—if loving you means losing—“

“Enough.”

Riona dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

Aidan reached out for her but she pulled away.

“We leave tomorrow,” she said in a cool tone, “You should tell Myrddin.”

Aidan could not respond. Riona’s eyes flickered across their face, searching for something. Satisfied they had no answers she turned and moved toward the Queen’s tower. Aidan’s heart felt cold and sore. Riona paused at the doorway but did not look back. Aidan ran a hand through their thick hair and sighed deeply, the memory of Riona’s mouth still lingering on their tongue.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

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Chapter Fifty-Five:

The sky was dull and grey over Castra that day. Though it was now well into June the wind coming ashore off the water was cold. Riona pulled the shawl about her shoulders a bit tighter. Aidan stood beside her, silent and still. Every soul that remained after the battle had gathered on the edge of the pale cliffs at the edge of the sea. Before them an enormous pyre had been erected. The dead from the battle lined it, wrapped in white linen. Tristan, Lamorak, and Gawain stood before the thing, each holding a single torch. Myrddin, Ser Luc, and the King stood somberly to one side. Artor’s bright voice echoed over the hushed crowd.

“The morning has brought with it a grim reminder of who we are and how perilously the sons of Briton shine in the darkness of this world. These men fought valiantly to defend that light. Though we were outnumbered each of you is worth three of the barbarians who seek to take what is ours.” The crowd was so still they seemed to be made of stone. Each face was focused intently on their King. Occasionally the sound of weeping would drift over the breeze.

“So we send our brothers into the next life. Remembering that all of us must come to an end and it must be in our hearts to perish so bravely. Leaving this world more secure and brighter than we found it.” At these words Tirstan, Lamorak, and Gawain lowered their torches and set the pyre ablaze. Riona covered her mouth and nose with her shawl. Soon the unmistakable smell of burning flesh permeated the air. The smoke was thick and dark and rose ominously into the pale sky.

“Where we have lost many, but we have gained a worthy few,” Artor continued, “We have found new brothers in arms. Gawain, Lamorak, please step forward.”

Gawain and Lamorak moved slowly toward Artor and knelt before their King. Riona felt her heart swell as Artorious drew his sword from its sheath. It was the first she had seen of the legendary sword. It seemed to shine with an almost otherworldly gleam but was otherwise unremarkable.

“Excalibur,” she heard Aidan say beneath their breath.

The King lowered the flat of the blade upon Lamorak’s right and then left shoulders and then did the same for Gawain.

“Rise, brothers, and claim your titles. Ser Gawain, and Ser Lamorak. Knights of the Round Table.”

As Gawain stood Riona felt her lips part in a smile. Somewhere in the crowd someone began to clap. Soon the crowd was cheering for the new Knights. Gawain was trying very hard to look calm; he bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. Ser Luc moved toward them, leaning heavily upon a crutch. He clasped each of them in a warm embrace. Riona found Gareth, Agravain, and Gaheris in the crowd. Gareth was cheering wildly, his small face alight with excitement. Gaheris was smiling through tears, trying his best to wipe them away with his shirtsleeve.

A voice sprang into song. The sound drifted over the wind and soon the hills were echoing with over a hundred voices.

“This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Every nighte and alle, Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, When thou from hence away art past To Whinny-muir thou com'st at last If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane. From Whinny-muir when thou may'st pass, To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last; From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass, If ever thou gavest meat or drink, The fire sall never make thee shrink; If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane, The fire will burn thee to the bare bane; This ae nighte, this ae nighte, If ivver thoo gav o' thy siller an' gowd, At t' Brig o' Dreead thoo'll finnd foothod, Bud if siller an' gowd thoo nivver gav nean, Thoo'll doan, doon tum'le towards hell fleames”

Riona joined in with her own voice and felt her heart swell in her chest. The flames were now so hot she could feel the heat on her skin. She closed her eyes and thought of Lot and Morgana. Tears began to slip from beneath her lashes and down her cheek, hot and tasting of salt as they pooled on her lips. They should have been here as their eldest son achieved his dream. She could picture Lot’s proud stoic expression, Morgana’s tears of joy. Riona wished she could reach past the veil of death just for a moment. In her heart she knew there would never be such closure. The smoke from the fire was thick now and the ash clogged her nostrils. Thin fingers laced their way through her empty hand. Riona’s eyes opened quickly and glanced aside. Aidan was staring forward at the pyre but their fingertips traced her knuckles gently. Riona felt warmth bloom in her chest. As the song drifted away on tendrils of smoke Artor spoke again.

“I have received word that Ser Bedyvere and the other Knights were successful in pushing back the invading horde.”

A small cheer went up from the crowd. Artor waited for silence.

“Tomorrow we must prepare for their return...but tonight let us feast. To celebrate the lives of our fallen brothers and to welcome our new kindred in Gawain and Lamorak.”

As the King’s speech ended the crowd began to break up to prepare for the festivities. Riona watched as Gawain encircled his younger brothers in his broad arms. Holding them silently for a long while.

“Riona,” Aidan’s voice drew her away from the sight. Riona turned her head forward and saw that Ser Luc was approaching them slowly, leaning heavily on his crutch. He stopped before her, his dark grey eyes were gentle and unthreatening.

“I believe I have you to thank for my life, Riona,” the soft boom of Luc’s voice always took her by surprise, “I merely helped Myrd-Master Merlin, “ Riona felt her cheeks flushing. “Merlin said you would diminish your importance. Still you were very brave to follow the Queen to my bedside in the midst of a battle. I will never forget what you have done for us.”

Riona lowered her face to hide the small smile that crept across her lips.

“Aidan,” Luc’s voice sounded suddenly serious. Riona felt Aidan stiffen slightly beside her. Luc reached out and gripped Aidan’s shoulder tightly. “Without you this keep would have been lost and Artor may very well have been killed. You are a cunning leader and a great warrior. I have asked the King to pardon you for the events at the tourney.” “T-thank you,” Aidan’s voice shook slightly. Riona glanced up at them in surprise.

Luc nodded at both of them one last time and then turned toward the keep, leaving the two of them alone in silence.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

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Chapter Fifty-Four

Riona watched with one hand pressed to her lips as what remained of Artor’s army retreated into the inner courtyard. She could hear the sound of the main gate to the fort splintering under the force of a battering ram. Even from this distance the wild throaty war cry of the Saxons chilled her blood. Her eyes searched for Aidan and Gawain. She could find neither of them. Her heart rose into her throat. Not dead...not dead!

Tristan was leading the group of men that remained. The archers had positioned themselves at the center of the inner wall. Myrddin was with them, and the pageboys were using cauldrons to pour what could only be pitch on the heads of the invaders. Riona gripped the rail of the balcony so tightly she could no longer feel her fingertips. The outer portcullis slammed downward with a sound that echoed over the courtyard. Riona watched as Saxons swarmed toward it like a wave of human flesh. A cry went up from Artor’s men as smoke began to rise from the eastern and western sides of the fort. Riona turned, a thick black cloud rose from where the barracks sat in the outer courtyard. Her eyes grew wide with fear. She turned back to the fight. Tristan’s soldiers were stabbing wildly into the oncoming horde with spears and swords, but where one Saxon fell another rose to take his place. She wondered how long the portcullis could withstand the constant strain and hacking.

Not long it seemed. The battering ram made quick work of it and soon Saxons began to pour through a gap in the shattered oaken beams. Riona felt fear quicken her blood. Tristan’s men rallied and tried to stave off the flow but it was obvious, even to her, that they would be quickly overwhelmed. Myrddin and the archers turned their focus toward the inner courtyard but in the mess of fighting it was hard to tell friend from foe. Tristan’s men were slowly being pushed back toward the main hall.

Then with a loud yell a new group of troops appeared from the western side of the fort, riding horses, and led by a Knight with shinning copper hair. Riona’s heart beat faster. Gawain! And he was riding...Gringolet! Riona realized that he must have set the fire in the stables. Then who...before she could even finish the thought another set of troops flanked the Saxons from the east, led by a slim figure wildly wielding a wooden staff. Riona felt a surge of hope. Aidan. With the arrival of these two groups Tristan’s men had reformed their line and were fighting with renewed vigor. The Saxons were now the ones being pushed back. There was another shattering crash and the inner portcullis slammed down, trapping the Saxons from behind. Lamorak reappeared from below and rejoined the archers, wearing a triumphant grin. Gawain’s men were circling the now surrounded Saxons and the sound of screaming horses joined in the strange music of the battle.

A small group of Saxons broke through the line of Artor’s men beneath her and kicked down the door to Myrddin’s tower. Riona paled and rushed back into the room. Luc and the Queen looked up at her in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” “They’re coming!”

Luc immediately tried to stand but he cried out and fell back onto the bed.

“I love you,” said Genovefa firmly one hand pressed to Luc’s chest. She stood and picked up the bow they had taken from the guard in the main hall. With a practiced hand she slung the quiver over her back and notched an arrow. Riona’s mouth parted in surprise as Genni drew back the bowstring with ease, her eyes locked on the door. With her wild red hair she looked like one of the old goddesses of the hunt. Riona felt strangely useless. She picked up Luc’s sword from where it had been waiting for him at his bedside. Riona was surprised by its weight and felt silly for having thought it could be anything other than unwieldy in her hands. Luc was looking at her in concern. Before he could say anything they heard the pounding of feet on the stairway outside. The door flew open and Genni released an arrow. It found its mark and the first Saxon tipped into the room, dead. Then another...and another. There were too many, even for the Queen’s practiced hand. Genovefa reached for another arrow but her quiver was empty. In that moment one managed to slip by his dead brethren and in only a few short steps had Genovefa by the throat. Riona cried out and Luc rose to try to defend his lover. Before either of them could react however a dagger was protruding from the Saxon’s back. Slowly his grip on the Queen relaxed and he slumped to the side unceremoniously. As Genni fell to her knees Riona turned to identify their savior.

Aidan was rushing toward her. Their staff clattered to the floor as they scooped Riona into a tight embrace.

“What are you doing here?” they murmured into her hair. When they seemed dissatisfied with her stunned silence they pulled back and looked into her face,

“You were almost killed! What if I hadn’t followed them!?”

Riona had no response; she was limp in their hands, staring up at them with a mixture of joy and surprise. Aidan drew her back into their chest. Riona tangled her hands in the cloak on their back and held on tightly.

“I almost lost you,” Aidan whispered.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

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Chapter Fifty-Three

Aidan withdrew their blade from the gut of a Saxon and let the body tip backward over the edge of the ramparts. The cacophony of the battle around them had dimmed to a dull roar in the back of their mind. A throwing axe whizzed by, dangerously close to their ear. Aidan wriggled a dagger from the back of a fallen archer. With a snap of their wrist it pierced the eye socket of a Saxon who was just climbing over the wall. Aidan spun on their toes wielding their staff in their free hand. With a sickening “thunk” it connected with an enemy skull.

“Aidan!”

Lamorak was charging toward them from the western edge of the ramparts. Aidan watched as the spry young knight picked off three enemies on the way with a rapid succession of arrows. Just as he was about to reach Aidan a ladder reared up beside him. Aidan avoided an enemy arrow just in time to watch Lamorak tumble into the first Saxon off the ladder. Aidan was about to help when Lamorak slipped from the man’s grip and used his bow to strangle him. When he was finished he kicked the ladder and sent it back into the horde below.

“We’re going to be overwhelmed, we’ve lost too many men,” Lamorak finally caught up, “We must pull back.”

“Tell the men to fall back, find Gawain.” Lamorak nodded and then disappeared to do as he was told. “Fall back!” Aidan began to yell. They dragged one of their injured men to his feet and helped him limp toward the stairway.

“Fall back!” Aidan heard the command begin to ripple down the line of archers. Soon they were swarming toward the inner courtyard. When they reached the bottom of the stairwell Aidan passed off the injured man to another soldier.

“Archers! To the top of the second wall, quickly! We must cover the retreat!” Gawain jogged up. Simultaneously the main gate began to groan and shake. The soldiers holding it cried out in surprise and fear.

“They’re using battering rams. Without the archers picking them off there’s no way that gate is going to last.” “Hold it just awhile longer.” Gawain nodded, his face was pale but his expression firm. “And then?” Aidan bit their lower lip and breathed in quickly through their teeth. “Tristan!” they shouted. The older knight turned, “when the last man is through lower the outer portcullis!” Tristan saluted his understanding.

“Gawain,” Aidan gripped the man’s shoulder tightly in one hand, “We must force them to try to take this gate.” “How?” “Take some of these men and set fire to the stables. I will do the same to the barracks. The east and west walls will be cut off and they’ll have no choice but to brave the climb over the inner wall or break through here. Draw your men through the north entrance and we will flank them if and when they make it through Tristan. Understand?”

Gawain’s eyes were glowing with a strange energy. “Yes.”

Gawain immediately turned and rallied a few of the soldiers at the gate, they followed him without question toward the stables. Aidan paused and watched. The Knights of the Round Table had exceeded their expectations.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

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Chapter Fifty-Two

The antechamber behind the throne room of the main hall was cramped with bodies. The sound of stifled sobbing was interrupted by shouts and general sounds of battle that permeated from the outside.

“What if they break through?” asked one servant of the air. “Hush,” said another voice.

Artor was pacing furiously in a corner of the room. His displeasure at being kept from the fighting was palpable.

“What use am I as a King if I cannot fight for my people?” he had demanded of Myrddin. “You are of no use to them dead,” the Druid had responded.

Genovefa was surrounded by a clump of ladies-in-waiting. Naomi was crying quietly into Rowena’s shoulder. Genni looked worried but not for her own safety. She wriggled her way out of the group and joined Riona where she sat with Gaheris, Agravain, and Gareth.

“Riona,” said the Queen as she knelt beside them, “I cannot sit here and wait for death.”

Riona’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Oh?”

Genni’s eyes glinted with an unspoken thought. “I am a pict,” she said beneath her breath, “I was not raised to wait in the dark while men fight.” Riona swallowed thickly. “That’s very brave, Genni but I—“ “Shhhh...” Riona bit her lip.

“Look around you.” Riona did as she was told. She saw frightened servants, cowering ladies, and Artor’s fuming form. “And?” “Where is Luc?” The thought struck Riona in the stomach. “Myrddin’s tower—“ “And where is Myrddin?” “Not...there?”

“Luc is defenseless,” whispered Genni, “I will not leave him there to die alone.” “I’m sure the fighting won’t get that far,” said Riona wistfully, not quite believing the words coming out of her mouth. “If you won’t come then I’m going alone.”

Riona hesitated and then nodded firmly. “No. I will come with you. Though I don’t know what use I’ll be.”

Genni covered the smile that spread across her lips with her hand. “First I need a weapon,” Genovefa glanced about the room. Her eyes rested on the single guard that had been left behind to guard them as a last resort. “Distract him,” Genni commanded Gareth. Gareth, to Riona’s surprise, hopped up to do as he was told. Soon the young boy had the bow and quiver in his hands, asking the guard about what it was like to work for the King. Gareth’s non-stop babble seemed to confuse the man. He was even more uncomfortable when Gaheris and Agravain joined in, allowing Gareth to sneak away, weapon in tow.

“Thank you,” said the Queen planting a kiss on the young boy’s forehead as he handed her the stolen bow and quiver. Gareth blushed furiously. Before anyone could take a second glance Genni dragged Riona out the door and into the main hall. It was deserted and eerily quiet.

“This way,” said Genni, still whispering. She led Riona through a side door that must have been a servant’s staircase. They passed through the kitchens where a fire still roared unattended in the hearth and then through a series of storage rooms until at last they exited into the chill air of the courtyard. The din of battle immediately assaulted them. What remained of Artorious’ forces seemed clustered around the main gate. The two women easily slipped past unnoticed and into Myrddin’s tower. They took the stairs two at a time. Arriving out of breath and ragged at the top. Together they nearly toppled into Myrddin’s chambers. The room was dark and still.

Riona stumbled forward in the dark until she found the bedside table and lit a candle. The small flame leapt out perilously into the shadows, illuminating the bed, and Luc’s resting form.

“Oh...” said Genni softly, sitting beside her lover delicately. Her fingers found their way to his face, tracing the lines of the thin beard that had formed without his attentive care.

“Riona,” said Genovefa hesitantly, “would you...would you wake him please?” Riona nodded and rummaged momentarily around Myrddin’s bottles, viles, and herbs until she found what she was looking for. She uncorked the small flask beneath Luc’s nose and waited. In little time he sputtered to life. With a groan he pressed one hand to his chest, pulling it away when his fingertips met the layer of bandage. Luc’s eyes were wide with confusion until his focus found Genovefa.

“Genni—“ he reached out and took her face in his hands, then as if suddenly aware that they were not alone, let his arms fall back to his sides. “It’s alright,” said the Queen softly, her face was warm and her expression more open than Riona had ever seen it, “Riona knows.”

Luc’s eyes slowly drifted to Riona. “What’s going on?”

“Castra is under attack—“ Before Genni could finish the sentence Luc was struggling to get up. “Lay down!” the Queen commanded. Luc seemed to balance his duty with his love for the Queen. The latter seemed to win out because he quickly lay back down on the bed, “You are in no condition to do anything about it.”

“I remember the tourney, I was fighting Aidan and then—“ his voice drifted off. “Aidan wounded you,” said Riona thickly, “mortally. It was only through Merlin’s magics we were able to keep you alive.” Luc stared up at the ceiling and seemed to try to piece together these thoughts. “Are you safe here?” Luc finally turned his head to gaze at the Queen once more. “No.” she said simply.

“Then you must go,” his voice was pleading with her, “Please, Genni—“

“No.”

Riona watched them battle silently. No words were spoken but they both seemed to know what the other was thinking. Finally Genni leaned forward and kissed Luc tenderly. Luc’s fingers hovered above her cheeks, as if her skin were flower petals and he a bee. Then with renewed courage he slowly tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed back.

Riona felt a moment of embarrassment before turning and moving out onto the balcony that overlooked the courtyard.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Fifty-One

The courtyard was already in chaos. Tristan stood in the center of it. He had had only time to slip on a mail shirt and his sword hung loose at his side. He was trying desperately to corral what was left of the troops as servants and ladies-in-waiting ran around them in various stages of distress. Lamorak trotted toward the scene, followed quickly by Gawain. Aidan took their time, feeling each footstep beneath them with a sense of importance. They took fresh air into their lungs for the first time in days.

“Men!” Tristan’s voice sounded strained already. He was obviously used to letting Luc take control and struggling profoundly in the absence of his commander. “We must fortify...” his voice was drowned out by another horn blow. Tristan paled visibly. Aidan reached the group of soldiers and they seemed to part before them like blades of grass. Tristan quieted as Aidan neared.

“Who let this thing out of its cage,” he said darkly. Aidan slowly tilted their head to one side in amusement. “I did,” said Gawain, immediately drawing up behind Aidan like a wall. Tristan seemed to falter. “We need every fighter we can get,” said Lamorak, appearing at Aidan’s side. “Fine.”

Before Tristan could begin speaking again Aidan’s voice was echoing out over the courtyard.

“Soldiers!”

There was a moment of hesitation and then in almost complete unison the men of Artorious’ army drew up into attention. “We are about to be besieged by raiders. We know not who they are or from where they hail, but we know why they are here.” Every eye was trained up Aidan and they felt the focus bring new energy into their being.

“They are here to destroy your land, your civilization, your people. You know what they are capable of. Are you going to let them? Or are you going to fight back and show them that the blood of Briton flows neither cold nor easily!?” The men roared back at Aidan with weapons drawn. Aidan turned to Tristan.

“Keep the bulk of the men here against the inner gate. Lamorak you will lead archers and a small team of soldiers to keep the outer wall as long as possible. Gawain fortify the outer gate as well as you can but do not waste lives holding it. When the men are overwhelmed draw them back here. We must draw them through the gates, not over the walls. Concentrate their efforts and we can defeat them, even with fewer numbers.”

Tristan, Lamorak, and Gawain were starring at Aidan open mouthed. “Well?!’ Aidan growled.

Immediately Tristan began barking orders. Men dispersed this way and that to follow them. Aidan glanced around quickly looking for Riona. She was probably already in the main hall with the other women and the King. Aidan resisted the immediate urge to find her and make sure she was safe. Riona can handle herself.

Lamorak and Aidan broke off with a group of archers and soldiers. Myrddin came running toward them, a small band of pageboys in tow. “Aidan!” the older Druid was breathless with surprise and effort. “These boys want to help. I’ve taught them how to make pitch. We can help Gawain keep the main gate as long as possible.” Aidan stared at the young fresh faces of the pageboys and felt their stomach turn. “Faeder...” “Aidan, you need all the help you can get.” Aidan hesitated and then nodded solemnly. “Come with us.”

The group moved quickly below the portcullis and outward toward the main gate. Aidan and Lamorak dispersed the archers equally along the walls while pageboys ran back and forth distributing bundles of arrows.

“They will try to come over the walls and through them. You must cut any lines and quickly destroy ladders,” Aidan was talking to the handful of soldiers who were not archers, “There will be three of them to your one, at least, you must make sure that not a single Saxon makes it over that wall!”

“I thought we didn’t know if they were Saxons,” Lamorak pointed out, still strikingly calm despite the situation. Aidan grinned. “Fair point.”

As the men dispersed Aidan took stock of their body. They felt tightly strung as if every step might plunge them over an unforeseen edge. The air had grown eerily silent and heavy with anticipation. The men stood alert and pale. Waiting for their deaths with baited breath. Already the invading ships had made their way up the river. Swarms, of what could be only men, were spreading across the short distance between the shore and the fort. The flickering of torchers dispersed randomly among the shapes. New, more distant horns now sounded. Great, ungodly cries came up from the horde that approached with ever increasing clarity. They shook their shields and racked their axes in a cacophony meant to jar the Britons into panic. Aidan felt a jolt of adrenalin snake through their veins. From below in the courtyard a chant was beginning to rise, spurned, Aidan could only imagine by Tristan.

“Britanniam Omnibus!”

The Pendragon motto seemed to bolster the spirits of the men. Soon the sound was filling the air of the fort, pushing back against the clamor of the invaders. Aidan slowly raised one hand; Lamorak mimicked the movement on the western side of the parapets. The archers raised their bows in unison, arms drawn back, bowstrings taught.

Aidan felt their heartbeat quicken.

“RELEASE!”

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Fifty:

There was a thick haze over Aidan’s vision. Sounds were blurred and their body felt both heavy and light simultaneously. I am dreaming they reminded themself.

The world around them slowly solidified. Around them rose craggy rocks of dark stone, blanketed in moss and other growing things. The sound of the ocean came at them over a distance, muted but instantly recognizable.

“Step, back, forward, turn, no not that way—quicker—good...”

Emrys.

Aidan felt their pulse quicken. They turned slowly; before them on the stony shore stood three figures. The tallest stood in the middle, rapidly and erratically turning like a weathervane in the wind. The two smaller figures remained on either side, in their hands long wooden staves, which they brandished with varying degrees of accuracy at the middle figure. Aidan felt their feet moving toward the scene, despite not commanding them to do so. As they neared the memory of this moment came rushing back and the dream felt more solid somehow, almost tangible. They could almost taste the salt on the breeze.

“Alright,” said Emrys breathing heavily, “that’s enough of that.” He lowered his own stave and the two small figures did the same.

“Cynbel, it’s your turn to initiate.”

Aidan turned their gaze on the adolescent form of their sibling. They saw themselves, young and just as gangly, standing across from Cynbel in the sand. The other young Druid was like a pale reflection of Aidan. Where Aidan was dark, Cynbel was light. Aidan’s mahogany curls that struggled against confinement were in Cynbel fine blonde strands easily braided into a neat plait. Aidan’s olive skin was countered by Cynbel’s porcelain complexion. They were everything Aidan, simply, was not.

Cynbel pushed one heel back into the sand and stretched the other out before them in a graceful stance, brandishing the wooden stave effortlessly. Aidan mimicked the move but with a force that sent sand flying in every direction. Then the two clashed. There was a quick flurry of limbs. The sound of cracking wood pervaded the air. Emrys looked on in pride upon his two apprentices.

Aidan watched with a growing feeling of nausea.

It happened quickly. Cynbel caught Aidan in the face with their stave. Aidan’s lip split and the blood soon soaked their chin and neck. With a growl Aidan lashed back. Emrys grew rigid, holding himself back from interfering. The pain drove Aidan over the edge. They attacked with quickened movement and a wild energy. Cynbel’s eyes grew wide and they seemed no longer sure of their form or weapon. Aidan took advantage of the hesitation and soon had Cynbel pinned to the earth, their stave across their sibling’s throat. Cutting off breath. Cynbel made a few sickening choked attempts at breath before Emrys had Aidan in a vice, pulling them away in a tight embrace. Aidan made an animalistic noise and struggled in the grasp of their guardian.

“Aidan!” Emrys voice was stony and cold. Aidan immediately went limp, a look of recognition upon their small face. When Emrys was satisfied that Aidan had calmed he set them down upon the wet sand. Aidan sank to their knees and refused to look up, even when Cynbel pulled themselves up, rubbing the rapidly forming bruise on their neck.

“That’s enough for today,” said Emrys the disappointment in his voice was thick and obvious. He turned on his heels and quickly strode away from the two young Druids. Cynbel slowly crawled toward Aidan on their hands and knees.

“Aidan?” they asked, their voice croaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” Aidan finally whispered through the tears now streaming down their cheeks. Cynbel reached forward and took Aidan in their arms. “I know,” said Cynbel.

The abrasive sound of a ram’s horn woke Aidan from their dreaming. They pushed themselves up onto their hands and blinked away the sleep. The two guards that normally were posted outside their cell had disappeared. Dread slowly seeped through Aidan’s body. For an agonizing few minutes nothing happened. Aidan stood, waiting anxiously for any sign of what to expect. Then when they had given up hope of explanation the sound of running feet came at them through the dark. Gawain’s copper hair glowed in the torchlight as he came into view.

The young knight slowed as he approached Aidan’s cage. He was obviously out of breath, his armor was only half clasped to his body and he held his sword, sheath and all, in his left hand.

“What’s happened?” asked Aidan simply. Gawain narrowed his eyes as if considering why he had decided on this course of action.

“Raiders.” “Saxons?” “Saxons, Vikings, who gives a shite?” asked Gawain sharply. Aidan was taken aback. Gawain was not one for animosity. “They’re here to kill us at any rate and half the army has just left with most of the knights in charge.” “And?” “And you can bloody well fight,” said Gawain quickly pressing his face against the bars of Aidan’s cell, “question is will you?”

Aidan stood, dusting off the clothes Artor had ordered brought for them. “I don’t see why not,” Aidan responded with a thin smile. Gawain produced a ring of keys. “Now where did you get that?” Gawain quickly found the one needed to open Aidan’s cell. Without looking up he responded. “Don’t ask questions.” “One more,” said Aidan playfully, “why are you trusting me?” Gawain looked up at that, rising to his full and-admittedly-impressive height. “Riona trusts you,” Gawain said firmly, “that’s enough for me.

“I’m going to need a weapon and well—“ “Looking for this?” Lamorak appeared from the shadows without warning. Gawain jumped slightly in surprise. Lamorak handed Aidan a pile of their leather armor.

“Seems we had the same idea,” said the Knight winking at Gawain. Aidan took the gear and quickly began to outfit themselves. Lamorak held out Aidan’s staff with both hands. Aidan took a step backwards. “I—“ Gawain spoke through gritted teeth. “We need you.”

Aidan cast a glance at the Knight and then took the staff firmly in their hands.

“What’s going on?” asked Gawain jerking his head toward the ceiling. “Tristan has what remains of the troops in the inner courtyard.” “Then we best make our way there.”

“Ready?” the two Knights turned to look at Aidan. Aidan swung their cloak over their shoulders and clasped it against the nape of their neck. The leather armor felt familiar, like a second skin. They tossed the staff from hand to hand and then grinned crookedly.

“Ready.”

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Nine

Riona could find no sleep. Her mind was reeling with the revelations of the day. The calvalry and troops led by Percival and Bedyvere had already marched, not even waiting for the morning light to guide them. They had left with little fanfare and only a small crowd of servants and ladies-in-waiting to see them off. Gawain’s affection had sent Riona’s heart into a tumult of emotions. She sat near the small glowing fire in Myrddin’s chambers, her arms clasped tightly about her knees. Finally with a sigh she stood. Moving quietly she left the tower and began to wander about the fort aimlessly.

The former Roman structure was still magnificent despite its age. The carefully built inner wall housed only two towers, Myrddin’s and Genovefa’s. Riona walked along its edge, her hand running against the stone masonry. A few patrols passed her, paying her no mind. She came to the main gate and paused. It was late and the portcullis has already been lowered. A small door stood to the side, guarded by a single soldier. As Riona approached the young man straightened.

“M’lady, it’s a bit late to be out.”

Riona looked the young man up and down. He was a simple soldier, nothing more from the looks of his armor and his unfavorable post.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was hoping to walk the ramparts,” Riona had not had this in mind when she left the tower but it suddenly sounded very appealing. “I’m afraid I cannot let you do so unattended,” said the young guard, looking visibly uncomfortable. “I will accompany her.”

Riona startled.

Ser Lamorak seemed to materialize at her side. His lithe form looking like a specter in the dark.

The guard’s eyes widened and then narrowed again in a short amount of time. He cleared his throat and then, as if moved by an invisible hand, turned and fumbled with a ring of keys at his waist. Soon Lamorak and Riona were moving through the small doorway, arm in arm.

“Thank you,” Riona murmured as the door closed behind them. Lamorak nodded.

“I was going to patrol the outer wall anyway, I would not mind some company,” he flashed her a warm smile. Together they moved across the thin outer courtyard. They found the stairway that led upwards along the wall and climbed it slowly. Riona glanced down and caught her breath.

“It’s...higher than it looks,” she said softly. Lamorak chuckled. Riona noticed for the first time that he was carrying his bow and quiver. “Aye, you’ll get used to it.”

Riona doubted that but she kept the thought to herself. After what seemed an agonizingly long time the two of them finally reached the top of the parapets. Lamorak motioned her toward the eastern wall. Riona joined him and gazed out across the craggy shoreline and the dark waters of the channel. It was an eerie sight. The moon was bright and full casting a harsh white light over the earth.

“What brought you to Castra, Ser Lamorak?” asked Riona finally after a long moment of silence. Lamorak let out a soft sigh. “It is a sad tale, are you sure you wish to know?” he smiled at her. Riona nodded solemnly.

Lamorak shrugged.

“Well then...” he seemed to be gathering his words behind his lips.

“How much do you know about Artorious’ rise to power?”

Riona pondered for a moment. “Only that he is a descendent of Maximus the Roman General who proclaimed himself emporer of all Briton. His father bedded Lady Igraine of Tintagtil leading to the uprising of Goloris—“

Lamorak cut her off with a laugh.

“You know enough...my father, Pellinor, fought with Uther against Goloris. Uther granted him great favor. He was given a large tract of land and many serfs to rule as his own. Uther’s court took to calling him “King Pellinor” in jest. But in the chaos after Uther’s death my father earned numerous enemies. Many sought to put Constantine, Auerlies’ son and Uther’s nephew on the throne. Myrddin set the swod in the stone. Artor retrieves it, is found to be Uther’s heir and the rest is what you see before you now.” Lamorak gestured to the fort with a wide swoop of his arm. Riona knew there was more to the tale and waited for Lamorak to continue.

“But too late for my father. In the plot to set Constantine on the throne many knights and lords warred amongst themselves. My father had his lands stripped away bit by bit. The shock of Uther’s death was a great blow. The loss of his land and title was too much. His mind began to unravel.” Lamorak set both hands upon the ledge of the parapet, leaning heavily into them. His shoulders sagged in what seemed to be resignation.

“He is quite mad now.”

There was a long silence. Riona knew nothing she had to say would be of any use to him.

“We have no lands now, save for that which surrounds our manor. My father spends his days wandering the woods ‘questing’ after an imaginary beast. I came here to try...” he hesitated, “To try to bring some sense of honor back to my family. I know it is too late for my father. But once we were a house of great warriors. I am worth no more than a hedge knight as I am. But among Artor’s companions—as a Knight of the Round Table I could...” Lamorak clenched his fists and let the thought die on the wind.

“You have shown much bravery in the small time I have known you Ser Lamorak,” Riona said genuinely. She gently placed a hand upon his arm, “I think great adventure awaits you here.”

Lamorak laughed softly, his eyes still focused outward toward the sea. Slowly his expression changed, shifting first into concern and then to dread.

“Riona,” he murmured, “look out, just to the west of the river, tell me what you see.”

Riona did as she was told. “There are...shadows on the water.” “Not shadows,” said Lamorak darkly, “but ships.”

He turned to Riona and gripped her shoulders tightly in his hands.

“Get the Queen and her ladies into the great hall. I must find the King,” Lamorak broke away from her and shouted at a nearby watchman, “You there! Sound the alarm!” “M’Lord?”

“Do it!”

Riona drew the hem of her dress up in her fists and began to run. As she reached the base of the outer wall the deep, bone-shaking sound of a ram’s horn blew over all the fort. Riona felt her blood run cold.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Eight

Riona sat in the corner of the great hall. Gareth sat, still trembling, in her lap. Gaheris and Agravain were beside her, quickly inhaling the bowls of soup she had placed in their hand. The hall was empty now save for the Knights of the Round Table and King Artorious. Gawain and Lamorak had been allowed to stay, they would soon be among the King’s companions and every able mind was needed. Myrddin stood nearby, observing the conversation with worried eyes.

“We must halt this Saxon advance before the threat reaches Londinium,” Ser Bors was speaking rapidly, his cheeks still pink from the wine at the feast. “We cannot leave Castra undefended, the King must remain here,” Tristan was speaking evenly, one hand pressed upon the table, the other fastened to his chin.

“I would much prefer to ride with the vanguard,” said Artor, despite his best efforts to look authoritative the boy king seemed out of place among the circle of men.

“If only Luc—“ began Ser Bors. Tristan cut him off before he could finish the thought. “Luc is not here.”

Bors clamped his mouth shut and glanced at Myrddin quickly.

“I will lead a battalion of foot soldiers and our calvalry to confront this Saxon horde,” Ser Percival interjected for the first time. Riona looked up at the knight in admiration. He was not as striking as Ser Tristan, nor as intimidating as Ser Bedyvere but he held himself with dignity and spoke only when his voice was needed.

“I agree with Percival,” Bedyvere spoke up, “A defense of Castra would not require the horses. The calvalry would advance faster than the foot troops. From Riona’s description of the attack on her village this is no large invasion. They are a rabble nothing more. The horse and riders could harry them until the battalion arrives and finishes them off.”

“All in favor of Ser Percival leading this attack?” Artor asked more quietly than Riona would have expected. All hands rose in unison.

“I will stay to defend the King and Castra,” said Tristan simply, “with the help of Gawain and Lamorak and a small group of warriors and archers we could hold this fort with little effort.”

“Then it’s decided,” said Artor, not pointing out that his wish to join the attack had been ignored and disregarded.

“I will begin preperations immediately,” Percival stood and left the table, followed quickly by the other Knights. Tristan turned to leave; his gaze lingered on Riona for a moment. Riona tried to offer him a small smile. Tristan tried to return the gesture but grimaced instead.

“I should send word to my father,” said Lamorak, clapping Gawain on the back and then he too left the hall. Soon Riona was alone with Gawain and his brothers. The eldest Orkney looked as if he was barely holding himself together. Riona reached out and took his hand. Gawain looked down at her, his eyes glinted with unshed tears.

“Gaheris, I should take a look at your wrist,” said Riona. Gareth slipped from her lap and instead clung to Gawain’s leg. Gawain swallowed thickly and lifted his youngest brother into his arms. Riona knelt before Gaheris and gently took his hand in her fingertips. She applied pressure to various areas of the wrist until Gaheris grimaced in pain.

“There?” Gaheris nodded with closed eyes. Riona probed deeper with her fingertips; Gaheris bit his lips to stifle any cry of pain that may have escaped his lips. She could feel no unordinary protrusions. “You haven’t broken anything, at most it is a fracture. You must keep it still, I will show you how to bind it so that it heals properly.”

Myrddin slowly approached them. “Or, you could heal him, Riona.”

Riona paled slightly. “I hadn’t thought of—what if I do it incorrectly?” Myrddin laughed softly. “I will help you, Cild.”

Myrddin knelt beside her and instructed her. “Hold his wrist firmly, I’m sorry lad it will hurt just a bit.” Gaheris nodded quickly. His eyes still closed. “Bánbryce bate,” said Myrddin. Riona strengthened her grip on Gaheris’ arm and repeated. “Bánbryce bate.” Riona immediately felt her energy wane slightly. “Bánbryce bate,” she said again. Once more her body responded to the magic.

Gaheris let out a soft sound and opened his eyes.

Riona released his wrist. Gaheris raised his arm and slowly twisted his hand from side to side.

“What...what did you do?” he asked breathlessly.

“Your friend here is quite the healer,” said Myrddin, standing slowly. Riona smiled to herself and glanced up at Gawain. He was looking down at her with something resembling fear. Riona paled at his expression. He quickly caught himself and tried to change his features into something more like surprise. “Thank you,” he murmured. Riona nodded and stood quickly, hugging her arms to her chest. Gaheris was still starring at his wrist, open-mouthed.

“Heal me! Heal me!” said Gareth excitedly. Riona laughed uncomfortably. “You’re not hurt, silly,” she tried to sound playful. She could not erase Gawain’s look of fear from her mind’s eye. “You should all sleep,” said Riona quickly, “You’ve had a trying journey.” “I have been given a room in barracks,” said Gawain, “they can stay there for now.”

Riona nodded.

“Well...goodnight,” she murmured and turned to leave. Myrddin joined her, slipping his arm through the crook of her elbow. They walked in silence for a long while, just before they reached Myrddin’s tower she paused.

“I’m sorry Faeder, I must speak with Gawain.”

“No need to apologize, I can manage the stairs alone. I’m not that old yet.” Riona smiled and Myrddin stroked her hair gently before opening the door. Riona quickly crossed the courtyard toward the barracks. She bunched up her dress in her hands and sped across the hard packed earth. Before she could even reach the other side Gawain met her, appearing suddenly before her like a red-headed ghost.

“Oh!” Riona stopped in surprise, “I was just-I was coming to see you. I—“ Before Riona could continue Gawain wrapped his hands about her face and drew her into a deep kiss. Riona stiffened in surprise. Then with a soft sound she relaxed and let him hold her there for a long moment.

“I never thought I would see you again,” Gawain said deeply as he pulled away, his hands adjusted, one wrapped gently about the back of her head, the other at her waist. Riona felt light and warm. She had no words to respond but he wasn’t waiting.

“I know that this...we...” Riona pushed forward and buried her face in his chest, her arms wrapped tightly about his waist. Gawain sighed and rested his cheek upon the top of her head.

“I know that we were never meant to walk the same path, Riona,” he said finally, “But I am forever grateful for what time I did have with you.” Riona pulled away slightly and looked up into Gawain’s face.

“You were meant to be here,” she said softly. “I am glad that...” Gawain took a deep shaky breath, “I am glad you were hear when the news of my family—“ he could not finish the sentence. Riona frowned in concern and cupped his cheek in her hand. “I am sorry,” she said as gently as she could. Tears slowly made their way down Gawain’s cheek. He stared up at the sky, soundlessly. Finally he spoke. “Agravain said my mother refused to leave my father’s side,” Gawain was shaking slightly, “They tried to warn the rest of the village, save some of them...Father ordered the boys to leave and warn King Artorious.”

“All I can think about is Alun and Elaine...the new baby...” Riona felt her heart rise to her throat and soon she was struggling to hold back her own tears.

“We were a farming people. My father had not seen battle since Uther Pendragon first called upon him when he was no older than I am now.”

“Perhaps some of them escaped,” she offered weakly. Gawain sighed and ran his hands over her hair. “Perhaps.”

The two of them were quiet for another long moment. Gawain tentatively leaned down and kissed her lips softly. Riona felt her cheeks flush.

“And...Perhaps we will meet again in another time,” he murmured, “One where our destinies have not already been decided.”

Riona was crying softly now. Gawain held her close, his fingers pressing tightly into her back as she would fall apart without his embrace.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Seven

The great hall was filled with the knights and lords that had remained after the tournament to await Aidan’s judgment and Luc’s recovery. Riona thought they must have better things to do than stand audience but she kept the thought to herself. With little appetite Riona had wandered away from the feast table and strode aimlessly among the tapestries along the wall. She studied each in detail. The complexity of the loom work reminded her suddenly of Morgana and the skill with which the woman had woven the shuttle through strands of wool. Slowly Riona raised her head and searched the crowd for Gawain’s familiar face. She found him easily, looking incredibly uncomfortable surrounded by a gaggle of ladies. He caught Riona’s gaze and made some excuse to leave the women behind. In a few moments he was at her side. Riona caught the scent of his skin as he drew close, earthy and tinged only slightly by the salt of sweat.

“It is good to see you,” his voice, though soft, managed to break through the din of the hall.

Riona turned to look at him face on. He looked somehow older and he had begun to grow a beard. It was as red as his copper head of hair. Riona hesitantly reached up and brushed her fingers through it gently. “It suits you,” she said simply.

Gawain cleared his throat, the skin behind his ears flushing pink. Riona rapidly changed the subject. “How is your family?” “Oh fine,” he said, shifting his weight, “They—“ He hesitated. “They miss you.” A prick of guilt formed in Riona’s stomach. “When you return tell them I think of them every day.”

Gawain seemed uncomfortable. “I-I will not be returning.” Riona blinked quickly. Gawain turned his attention to the tapestry. “Artor has already spoken with me. He intends to make me a knight in his companions once this business with Luc and—“ Gawain hesitated to say it, “Aidan has concluded.” “A Knight of the Round Table?” Riona’s eyes were wide with surprise, “Gawain that’s incredible! Your wish—“ “Has come true it seems,” Gawain said with a surprising calm, “but it means giving up other things just as important,” his eyes flickered toward her momentarily. “My family for one,” he finally added after an uncomfortable silence. “I’m sure they will—“

Riona’s thought was cut off as the doors to the hall were thrown open. The summer wind caught all the torches in the hall, causing them to flicker and snap. It had begun to rain heavily and the sound assaulted the room in the sudden silence. Three figures stood in the looming doorway. The tallest leaned heavily upon the other two. Gawain seemed to shrink back in surprise. Then with quick steps he made his way toward the door, forcing the crowd to part.

“Agravain! Gaheris!”

Riona gasped and followed quickly behind him, though much less successfully parting the onlookers. When she finally reached them Gawain already had Gaheris in his arms, holding his younger brother steady. The boys were soaked to the bone and looked as if they hadn’t eaten in days. Gareth’s diminutive form was just barely visible from where he was hiding in Agravain’s cloak.

“Gareth,” said Riona gently, kneeling down to his level. The young boy’s eyes grew wide and then with a sob he threw himself toward her. “Riona!”

“Why are you here? What’s happened? Where are mother and father?” demanded Gawain as the hall doors were slowly closed behind them by Ser Lamorak and Ser Tristan.

Despite the rain dripping from their heads and cloaks it was obvious to Riona that Agravain was crying, and doing his best to hold it back. Riona picked up Gareth in her arms and held his shaking form to her breast. He was mumbling something through his tears into her shoulder. Riona made soft comforting sounds and ran her fingers through his slick hair.

“Agravain!” demanded Gawain more hotly. The boy seemed in shock. It was Gaheris who finally answered, pulling away slightly from his brother’s embrace. He held one arm awkwardly to the side. From the look of his wrist it was broken.

“Mum and Da...” Gaheris stumbled in his words and took a deep wavering breath, “They’re dead, Gawain.”

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Six

Aidan awoke to the clatter of a wooden bowl against the stone of their cell; small chunks of gruel splattered their face. With a deep sigh they sat up and cupped the bowl in one hand, scooping out the contents with their long fingers. The guard watched Aidan for a moment. Aidan met his gaze and tilted their head to one side as if to silently ask, what? The guard scoffed and turned back to their post.

When Aidan had finished the meager meal they tossed the bowl toward the front of their cell unceremoniously. There it would remain until it was refilled in the evening. Aidan grimaced as they wiped their hands, sticky with porridge, on their trousers. It had been two days and two nights since the events at the tourney and still Aidan had not heard a single word as to their fate. The guards suddenly stiffened and forced their bodies into attention. Aidan’s brow drew together in curiosity as a new torch appeared in the archway.

“I’m here to see our prisoner.” “Of course m’lord,” said one of the guards. With a taut bow he turned aside revealing the much more diminutive form of King Artorious. The boy moved forward, placing his own torch in a sconce near the cell. The serpent toque about his neck flashed in the orange glow. For a long moment they simply studied each other.

“I am here because I wish to understand what happened,” said Artor simply. Aidan was surprised by the calm focus they found in the boy’s eyes. Aidan sat up and crossed their legs beneath them. “I never wished to harm Sir Luc,” Aidan said flatly. Artor blinked slowly and clasped his hands behind his back. “I thought not, but you did, and I want to know why.” Aidan hesitated. This was not the interrogation they had expected. “I was trained to fight, to kill, this playing at war that you humans do does not sit well with me.” Artor seemed intrigued by this. “You’re saying it was instinct?” Aidan narrowed their eyes slightly and sighed. “Not exactly.”

Artor rather than pressing for information simply waited patiently for elucidation. “You have seen battle, m’lord,” Aidan said less than sure this child would understand, “have you never seen a soldier...” again Aidan struggled to describe the experience, “You relive the past but it becomes real, you are not where you are, you are not seeing the truth—“ Aidan growled and let the sentence die. This boy king would never know such pain, why should he understand?

“War dreams.” said Artor quietly.

Aidan raised their head to look into the gaze of the King. Artor’s soft blue eyes held a warm empathy. “My father-Uther-was afflicted by them. When he was in a state he could not recognize anyone or anything. It was as if the hand of some malevolent God lifted him into another world. Friends became old enemies and a candlestick a sword.”

Artor paused and seemed to be ruminating on some distant thought. Finally he turned his attention back to Aidan. “This has put my mind at ease. I’m afraid you must remain here until Luc’s condition improves. Foremost you are safe here. I could not guarantee that one of my knights may try to enact his own justice upon you were you not confined and guarded. Luc is well loved.”

Aidan nodded grimly. “I understand.” “Good,” said Artor, flashing a sad smile, “In the mean time I’ll ask that you be brought new clothes and—“ the King paused looking at the otherwise empty cell, “some bedding to begin with.” “Thank you m’lord.”

Artor nodded and without another word took the torch from the wall and turned to leave. Aidan watched the boy king as his shape grew distant in the murk of the dungeon. Perhaps Myrddin had chosen the right leader for this world.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Five

Riona awoke to an unfamiliar warmth between her thighs. She sat up sharply and tossed the wool blankets and furs of the Queen’s bed to one side. With trembling hands she stood and pulled up the fabric of her night gown. The inside of her legs were already stained with blood. So much blood. Elaine, one of the ladies-in-waiting from the night before bustled into the room with a bowl of steaming water in one arm and a cloth in the other. Her mouth parted in surprise as she met Riona’s gaze. Then as if moved by an invisible force she set down her burden and was at Riona’s side.

“Don’t worry, I know it looks like a lot but it’s nothing to worry about.” Riona nodded quickly and helped Elaine remove the stained cloth from about her waist and helped her tie a fresh one. The Queen murmured in her sleep and turned over, both Riona and Elaine paused in their movements and cast a glance in the direction of the bed.

“Best not to wake her,” said Elaine softly. She took the soiled rag and motioned for Riona to follow her. As the two women moved down the stairwell Elaine paused at a door Riona had never opened.

“Come on,” said Elaine with a gentle smile as she entered the room. Riona moved through the doorway and found herself surrounded by women in various states of undress. The ladies-in-waiting were preparing for the day. Clothes were strewn about the room and the smell of porridge permeated the air.

“Riona!” Rowena, one of the first ladies Riona had met at court drew forward from a small group of women clumped around the hearth. “What are you doing here?”

Elaine held up the soiled cloth and Riona felt her face flush in embarrassment. Rowena let out a tsk. “Is it a curse or a blessing? I have yet to decide.” “I was going to show her how to clean.” Rowena nodded in agreement. She seemed to hold some sort of power over the other women because Elaine immediately continued in her mission.

“Now...” began Elaine, “You’re never going to get out the stains, mind you, but you want to get as close as you possibly can.” Elaine dipped the soiled cloth into a boiling cauldron on the hearth and began to stir it with a wooden rod.

“You let it soak for awhile and that gets rid of most of it.” While Riona watched Rowena appeared at her side. “Here take this,” she lifted Riona’s nightgown over her head and fastened a thick red petticoat around her waist, “this will catch any leaks and won’t show the way your dresses would. “Naomi, bring Riona a new dress please,” Rowena’s warm thick voice held the responsibility that came with unofficial leadership. Soon Riona had another new dress slipped over her head, this one much more simple than the last. It was a dark brown color with long draping sleeves and a gold rope that cinched about her waist. In a lot of ways it resembled her old woolen dress, which until the past month had been the only one she owned.

Rowena handed Riona a small pouch, which she instructed could be tied to the petticoat by a small leather strap. The scen of crushed Nutmeg immediately assaulted Riona’s nose when she took it.

“To mask the smell, especially in summer months,” said Rowena quietly. The other women’s heads nodded in agreement and then as if a gate had been opened they all began to offer up their personal favorite remedies; boiling toads and keeping the powder in a vial about your neck to stem the flow being one of the most wild presented. Riona thanked them all and then turned her attention back to Elaine who was now scrubbing the rag with a stone to remove as much of the staining as possible. When she seemed satisfied she drew the cloth from the water and wrung it between her hands.

“You want to make sure it’s dry before you wear it again so it’s best to keep at least two if not three on hand,” she said sagely as she strung the rag over a hook near the hearth. “Wearing wet ones will get you in all sorts of trouble.” A few of the women snickered, others looked embarrassed or even nervous. For a long moment all the ladies silently stared at Riona s if she were a creature of their creation. Then as if spurned into bravery by the silence Naomi spoke.

“How did you come to Castra at the side of a Druid?” Rowena shot the younger woman a warning glance. Naomi withered slightly but Riona spoke up. “No, it’s alright.” Riona glanced about the room. All eyes were focused inently on her. “It...is a complicated tale.” “The Queen won’t wake for another hour at least,” said Elaine with a giggle. “Very well,” said Riona.

Rowena beckoned Riona to the edge of one of the three large beds that dominated the room. The ladies slept three to a bed for the extra warmth in winter. As Riona told them her strange story Rowena sat behind her; gently combing, brushing, and braiding her hair. The other ladies continued to prepare for the day; cinching bodices and mending hems.

“You were so brave to leave with Aidan!” gushed Naomi as Riona told them of the Saxon raid on her village. “I had no where else to go,” said Riona simply, “No one else to trust...” A small gasp left Elaine’s lips as Riona told them of the night in the woods when Aidan commanded Riona to run away. When she reached the story of Gawain and his family Rowena’s hands paused in their work. “That is how you know that strange knight!” Riona blushed and nodded. “If he loves you why did you not stay?” asked Naomi softly. Riona opened her mouth to reply but she had no answer. “He’s so handsome,” said on of the ladies. A ripple of giggles went through the room. “So is Aidan,” said Rowena knowingly. Riona felt her cheeks turn scarlet.

Seeing Riona’s distress at the current topic Elaine chimed in. “What happened next?’ Riona gladly continued the tale but when it came to Hester she felt her heart begin to ache. She told the room of that night with the other Druids and when she first heard the name of her father.

“You’re half Druid?” gaped Elaine. Riona nodded apprehensively. The women looked at her with new wonder. Riona continued but when she came to that night with Hester she hesitated. Finally at the urging of the ladies she told, keeping the more intimate details to herself.

“With a woman?” Naomi’s eyes were wide with disbelief. Rowena hushed her with a wave of her hand. One of the other ladies-Aldreda-caught Riona’s gaze and gave her a long knowing look. Riona felt herself blush again. With a shaky breath she continued telling them of her vision of her mother’s death. The days in Londinum and the fear her sickness had brought her and Aidan. By the end of the story most of the women had surrounded her on the floor, entranced.

“I wish my life was so exciting!” Naomi declared. “It has been barely even a month since this all began!” Riona pointed out, “My life up until then was exceedingly dull I promise.” “What are you going to do know?” Rowena asked softly. Riona had no answer.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Four

A small sound woke Riona from her restless sleep. She sat up on her hands, the cool wooden floor creaking slightly beneath her weight. With Myrddin in his chair and Luc in the bed she had simply curled up with a blanket before the hearth. Her stomach felt uneasy. Riona thought it must have been the chill in the air. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness.

“Riona?” it was a woman’s voice, soft and afraid. Riona stood and moved toward the door. “Genni?”

The Queen was wrapped in a dark woolen shawl, strands of her red curly hair stood out against her pale face in the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” Riona questioned. Genni seemed to hesitate, her bottom lip quivered. “I wanted to see Luc.” “You could have come in the day,” said Riona. Genni shook her head. “Myrddin does not approve of—“ the Queen did not finish the thought. “Please, I must see him.”

Riona took the Queen’s hand and led her silently toward the bed where Luc lay asleep. At the sight Genni let out a small gasp of pain. She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at the Knight.

“Has he woken yet?” “Myrddin is keeping him sedated for a while longer, there’s no need to wake him and let him endure the pain.”

Genni wiped quickly at her eyes with a handkerchief. Riona lit a candle and cast a glance at Myrddin. The Druid was still fast asleep in his chair, his head leaning heavily to one side, open mouthed. Riona set the candle on the bed side table and hovered there.

The Queen seemed to be hesitating. Then as if suddenly unafraid she leaned forward and gently kissed Luc’s forehead.

A sudden stabbing pain sliced through Riona’s pelvis. With a loud gasp she doubled over, one hand clutching her dress.

“Riona?” Genni was instantly at her side, both hands gripping her tightly. The pain subsided and Riona straightened, but then in an instant it returned. She whimpered and looked up, The Queen’s eyes were pierced with worry. “I don’t know I just, Ungg…” her voice trailed off as another wave of pain overcame her.

Riona crumpled to the floor, her stomach twisted into knots and nausea welled up beneath her tongue. The pain was constant but rose and ebbed in swells like a wave. She tried to stand. As she moved to support herself on her palms she glanced down. The fabric of her dress below her belly was stained dark red with blood. Riona’s pulse quickened and she felt her face drain of color. She scrambled back on her hands, leaving a thin trail of blood beneath her.

“What is happening?” her voice trembled as Genni knelt down beside her. The Queen’s eyes held both concern and surprise. “Were you not expecting your moon blood?” Riona felt her face pale and her lips part. “That’s not possible!” she hissed. Genni’s eyes glinted. “I would think the evidence says otherwise.” Riona let out a groan and then said through gritted teeth. “I have never been…It’s not, I can’t-I’m barren!” The Queen’s eyes were wide and they scrutinized Riona’s face. “When you came here you were sick. Could it have been Myrddin’s magic that healed you?” Riona stared at her in horror. “This is going to happen to me from now on?” her voice was pitched high with fear. She glanced again at Myrddin to make sure he was still asleep. “Once every 29 days, maybe more, maybe less, unless you are with child,” Genni said gravely, but her lips were tugged into a smirk.

Riona lay back on the cool floor, her hands still tangled in the fabric of her gown. Genni took Riona’s arm and helped her to stand. Riona’s face was red and hot with embarrassment, but the Queen stroked her hair comfortingly. Genni took the woolen shawl from her head but before she could wrap it about her Riona cried out,

“Not that I’ll soil it!” Genni waved her hand nonchalantly. “It matters not.” The Queen wrapped the shawl about Riona’s waist tightly and took her arm in her own, leading her from the room. “We’ll go to my quarters,” she said quietly leading Riona out into the stairwell. The long climb down the tower steps to the courtyard seemed agonizingly long in Riona’s shame. They crossed the open land between Myrddin’s tower and the Queens as quickly as they could. As they entered her rooms Genni took the shawl from Riona and handed it to one of her ladies-in-waiting.

“Dispose of this,” The Queen turned to another Lady, “Bring one of your gowns, Elaine, for Riona, the green one from ages ago. Riona blushed even deeper. “My lady, you musn’t.” “Nonsense.”

Genovefa’s ladies undressed Riona, taking away her bloody gown in a crumpled heap. Another appeared with warm wet rags, wiping away the blood between Riona’s thighs.

“You truly have never bled before?” Genni asked. Riona shook her head. Genni took a clean, long rag in her hands and began to wrap it about Riona’s loins. “This is how you keep from ruining all your clothes,” she said, “Soak it in boiling water every night and make sure it dries thoroughly before you wear it again. I will have more brought for you.” “I’m so sorry,” Riona’s voice was livid with mortification. “Stop apologizing,” Genovefa demanded. Riona nodded quickly. “Leave us,” Genni waved her Ladies from the room. They curtsied and then left with hurried steps and bowed heads. The Queen helped Riona into the dress that had been brought for her. Riona glanced down, it fit like a glove. It was a deep emerald green with a bodice of silver beaded roses. The neckline was deeper than any she had worn before.

“Well…you certainly look your age,” said Genni, assessing the situation, her head tilted to one side, “I’m surprised you have never bled before. You are almost too old to even think of children.”

Riona nodded, her eyes locked on the floor. “I thought I was barren.”

Genni drew in a slow breath. Riona glanced up. The Queen’s face held a look of suppressed grief. Riona’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you alright?” Genovefa composed herself quickly. “Y-yes, it’s just-“ she struggled with the words, sinking slowly into a velvet chair next to the fire. Her eyes glanced warily toward the door. She motioned Riona closer. Riona knelt beside the chair, biting her lower lip in worry. “Never have I been able to share what I am about to tell you, Riona,” said The Queen, her voice so quiet even Riona could barely make it out, “I do not wish to carry the burden any longer.”

Riona felt the urge to reach out and comfort her but thought it might be inappropriate to show such familiarity with a queen. “You have no doubt noticed my husband’s age,” Genni’s eyes were locked on the flames, she seemed suddenly distant. “He’s very young,” said Riona softly. Genni nodded tersely. “Barely into his 15th year.”

Riona was surprised. Though Artorious looked young she had not placed him below nineteen at the youngest. A throne did that. “I had no idea,” she murmured. “He is a bright young man,” the Queen said, as if to reassure herself, “he will make a great King someday. For now the matters of state fall to Myrddin and his other advisors, for the most part.” “But he has fought in battles!” Riona said in shock. Genni’s gaze shifted to Riona. “True, he was there, though he is kept from the thick of the fighting. They only lets him enter the field when the tide has turned in our favor, and only then surrounding by a thick retinue of calvary.”

Riona’s eyes widened. “Then who is responsible for his victories?” Genni breathed a deep sigh. “Llwch du’Lac.” “Luc?” Riona’s mouth parted in surprise, “Your champion?” Genni let out a bitter laugh. “My champion,” she mimicked, “Artor’s closest friend, and commander of all his armies.” “Is he not nearer to you in age?” Genny glanced sideways at Riona, her voice lowered again. “Indeed he is.”

The beginnings of a realization gripped Riona’s stomach. “My husband and I-we-every time we have tried to consummate our marraige,” Genovefa’s fingers gripped the arms of her chair tightly she took in a deep breath, rubbing her temples with one hand, “He was thirteen when we were wed. Still the boy is terrified of the idea. I have no wish to force it upon him.” “Why were you married?” “Politics,” said Genni bitterly, “My father is Drest Gurthinmoch of the North. My marriage was to broker peace between the Pictish tribes of the north and Briton, for a time…” “But…when Artor is a bit older. Perhaps he-“ “I will never carry Artor’s children.”

The words were spoken in such haste Riona hardly comprehended. There was a long silence before she responded. “How do you know?” Genny wiped at her eyes as if tears threatened to fall from them. “Luc…” The Queen struggled with her words, “…and I-“ The truth hit Riona swiftly and like a hammer. The way Luc’s gaze lingered upon the Queen, the way his hands found the need to touch her even the slightest. Genni’s hysteria at the tourney field. “I understand.”

Genovefa closed her eyes tightly. “I was so alone when I was married to Artor,” she said, almost as if to convince herself, “I was taken from my home and thrown in a land of strangers with stranger customs. Married to a husband I could not even share a bed with. Lancelot is from Gaul, the other knights treat him as a god, not a companion, he knew—“ she took a deep breath, “He knew what it meant to be an outsider here.”

Riona could almost sense the remorse welling from Genovefa’s words. “We became lovers,” The Queen bit into the words, “I-I,” her voice faltered, “I grew with child.” Finally tears began to stream from her eyes, “I did not know what to do. I could not carry it, everyone would know it was not Artor’s. I would be shamed, the peace between my father and Briton would end. It would mean the doom of everything he has accomplished. This kingdom could not survive the aggression of both the Picts and the Saxons. Lancelot and Artor would be torn apart. I could not carry it,” her voice quivered, “I could not carry it!” Riona wrapped her arms tightly about Genovefa’s quaking form. The Queen sobbed into Riona’s shoulder.

“I tried to end it myself,” Genni’s words were muffled by the fabric of Riona’s dress, “I knew such things were possible. I should have gone to a midwife but I was too afraid. I could trust no one. I-“ the Queen’s voice faltered again, “There was so much blood…”

Riona squeezed Genni tighter. She could feel the woman’s pain reverberating in her body. Genovefa could not speak for many moments. Her quiet sobs were the only sound in the room, mixing with the snap and crackle of the flames.

“You were brave,” Riona said firmly. Genni drew in a breath, trying to calm her tears. “Could you not ask Myrddin to heal you?” Genni shook her head solemnly. “Myrddin would find any excuse to see my marriage ended. He has not said as much but I believe he knows of Luc and...I.” The two women sat in silence for a long while, gazing into the hearth. “You musn’t tell anyone,” Genni whispered. “I will not, M’lady,” Riona said firmly. Genovefa took Riona’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

“You are a comfort, Riona le Fae.”

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Three

“At first I was livid with Emrys,” Myrddin’s voice seemed to linger in the shadows of the room, “How could he be so foolish?” here the old Druid chuckled.

“I know much more of love now than I did then,” he patted Riona’s hand, “I almost feel sorry for them now.” Myrddin took another long drink of wine and let his head rest on the back of the chair.

“Your parents had been meeting in secret for about a year then. She knew some of the politics of our people but not enough to understand what peril this child would place her in.”

“Why was she in danger?” Riona asked her voice suddenly thick, “w-why was she killed?”

Myrddin’s expression looked pained.

“When Emrys replaced our murdered Cyning he was placed in the center of a dispute over the future of our kind. For a long time Druids had sought to isolate ourselves from humans. Our numbers were dwindling quickly, however. Many of us thought that it was time to return to humanity from our place of legend. Brining what knowledge, and culture of our own that we could. Humans would benefit from our long history and we would find the comfort of knowing our existence would not snuff out like a candle in the night.”

“Why didn’t you?” Emrys smiled weakly. “So many questions.” Riona blushed but knew he was only teasing.

“There was an equally strong resistance to the idea. There were many of my people who feared humans, who feared that we would be met with only scorn and at worst violence. But then there were others even more fanatical who believed instead we should slowly enslave humans, using them for resources the way you would domesticate a wild animal.”

Riona tasted a bitter emotion on her tongue. “What did Emrys believe?” “Emrys was so deeply in love with your mother it was obvious to me that he would choose integration with humanity. In fact I worried he might expose their secret as a means to further that goal.”

“You didn’t think it was the right thing to do?” Myrddin shook his head. “I did. However Emrys was often too quick to make decisions. We would need time to heal this rift that had torn our kin apart. Ever I had been his temperance. When he was made Cyning he asked me to become his official advisor. We...” Myrddin’s voice drifted off and he pressed a tight fist to his lips, “We could have ruled together and brought our people safely into a new era. Had I not made one-fatal-mistake.”

Riona held her breath.

“When your mother came to me I was angry, angry at Emrys’ and his lack of self control, his disregard for his responsibility, and even for the life of your mother. So when Nimue asked what she should do—“

Riona instinctively reached out to take Myrddin’s hand. The older Druid closed his eyes at the touch.

“I told her the truth, that she would be in danger if she stayed. That this child and her affair with Emrys could send our people into a civil war. I told her she had no future here. At least not until Emrys and I could reunite our kin.” There was a long silence.

“I did not realize what this child would mean for her. That it would leave her without a future in her own world. Alone.” Myrddin let out a heavy sigh. For Riona the pieces of her mother’s life that had remained a mystery since her death began to fit together.

“She left...” Riona’s quiet voice broke the stillness of the room.

“Without warning,” responded Myrddin, “I think perhaps she thought that if she told your father she was leaving he would try to stop her. Expose their secret. I think what I had told her made her afraid. Not only for herself, but for him as well. She must have decided that raising you in secret and solitude was the only solution.”

“She could have ended it,” said Riona grimly.

“Aye, I even told her I could do it. That knowledge was not unknown to her,” Myrddin opened his eyes and stared at Riona with a soft expression, “but I think she was deeply in love with you. Even then. If she couldn’t have your father, she would have you instead.”

A sudden wave of regret crashed over Riona and she felt hot tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

“Emrys was devastated,” Myrddin’s voice was trembling, “I never told him what I knew. I never revealed her secret. He waited for so long, held onto this thin hope that somehow she would return to him. But when a year passed I think he finally realized she was lost to him forever.”

Riona remembered the moment in the woods, the tender way Emrys held her mother, his radiant joy of being love.

“He changed,” Myrddin was crying now, shinning tears slid slowly and more numerously down his cheeks, “Where he had once been flexible he hardened. Where there had once been compassion there was only bitterness. I watched my brother turn into a stranger. He soon sided with those who wished to remain separate from humanity and as Cyning with the support of Andraste none could dispute his decision.”

“Why was he killed?” Riona was almost afraid to ask but she must know. Myrddin seemed to be struggling with an internal conflict. Finally he spoke.

“That is Aidan’s story to tell.” Riona scoffed. “Then I’ll never hear it.”

Myrddin laughed quietly.

“Perhaps...perhaps not.”

“I should tend to Luc,” Riona said suddenly, as if breaking from a trance. She stood and moved quickly to the bed where the knight still lay unconscious. With practiced hands she removed the bandages about his chest and reapplied another layer of poultice. A question suddenly sprang to mind.

“Myrddin—“

Only quiet breathing met her. She turned. The old Druid was fast asleep in his chair.

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Two

The Nimue Riona had known, the mother who had rocked her and scolded her for wandering into the woods, was not the Nimue who stood before her now. This woman was youthful, her skin still held that fresh ruddiness of maidenhood. Her dark raven hair shone in the moonlight like a spiders web. Looking into her eyes, however, Riona discovered the same unconditional warmth of her childhood.

Looking at the pair of them together for the first time Riona saw the features and manner that combined in herself. Riona was drawn out of ruminations as fog ban to close in about her.

“No! No—“ she cried desperately reaching out fruitlessly to touch the apparitions of her parents. But they were gone. Riona steadied herself and held her breath for the next memory.

She heard raised voices before any of her other senses caught up.

“You cannot do this.” Myrddin.

The scene formed. Emrys and Mryddin stood together in a dimly lit room, the details of which Riona could not make out.

“You have a responsibility to your people-to your clan!” “I know!” Emrys interrupted hotly. He looked grieved, strung between two desires so tightly it contorted his posture ever so subtly. “I cannot believe you let it get this far,” Myrddin’s face was flush with anger. “You are the Thaen of Clan Andraste. Think of what would happen to—“ “Emrys?”

A small voice broke into the argument. The brothers grew suddenly rigid and pale. Emrys turned slowly toward the sound. A small child had appeared in the corner. They could be no more than seven years of age. A massive mop of dark curls encircled their small head, from which poked two prominent pointy ears. Emrys�� features softened and he moved toward the child.

“Your supposed to be abed, Aidan.” Riona startled and focused her attention on the child. “Aidan...” she heard the name slip breathlessly from her lips.

“I had a bad dream. Cynbel said it means I’m going to die.” “Since when do you believe anything Cynbel says?” asked Emrys, ruffling Aidan’s hair affectionately. The small Aidan smiled, it was the same crooked grin she occasionally glimpsed on their face now. “Come on,” Emrys lifted Aidan into his arms and left the room carrying them like a doll. Again the memory faded but this time nothing rushed to replace it. Riona forced her eyes open. The room was pitch dark. She could hear Myrddin breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice trembling, “I can show you no more, I do not have the strength.”

Riona stood slowly her body felt heavy as if she had spent hours in a deep sleep. She moved to the hearth; in a moment she had a small fire going. Myrddin sighed in appreciation. Leaning forward slightly his features became shadowed in the dim light.

“There is more I must tell you,” Myrddin said softly as Riona handed him a cup of wine. “We have time,” Riona said comfortingly. Myrddin took a long drink of the wine and brushed his lips with the back of his hand.

“You are so much like her you know.” Riona’s hands paused in their motion. “You must have been...no older than sixteen when she died.” Riona turned and scrutinized the old Druid. “How would you know that?” Myrddin looked weary, he broke her gaze and turned to stare at the fire. “Aidan told me,” he seemed to hesitate. The fire crackled excitedly over the dry brush and twigs Riona had added, “Aidan...has been watching you for a long time.” Riona felt her breath quicken slightly. “Why?”

Myrddin closed his eyes.

“When your parents became involved, Emrys kept it secret from everyone save for me. Druids and humans...for a long while we had kept separated from their world. You are a short lived kind, so brutish in the beginning...” Riona sat down next to the fire and wrapped her arms about her legs, gazing softly at her uncle.

“Or so we thought. Truly I now believe it to be nothing but hubris on our part.” “The relationship between your parents was unprecedented. Emrys never fully explained to me how they met. Something about starlight, dancing, and fields was the best I could ever get out of him. For being the leader of our warriors he was always a romantic.”

“Warriors?” Riona interjected.

Myrddin shifted his weight. “The tribe of Druids Emrys and I came from is split into three clans. Most tribes are. There are the warriors, clan Andraste—“ “That’s Aidan’s sername...” Riona said with wide eyes. “That is because Aidan was raised in Emrys’ clan.” “Are you from Andraste?” “Me?” Myrddin apparently found this humorous, “I am no warrior. I was the leader of clan Andgiet, we were the keepers of history and knowledge, healers, teachers.” Myrddin’s eyes glinted in amusement as he turned to look at her. “I would have loved to have had an apprentice such as you.” Riona blushed.

“Ælfgar were the crafters. Our weapons, clothes, homes... everything. They were by far the largest and most important of the clans.” Myrddin paused for another sip of wine and then leaned back in his chair. “Each clan has a Thaen, chosen by the Thaen before them. Emrys and I rose quickly to our positions in our respective clans. We were both remarkably gifted in our trades. I have never seen a fighter like your father, before or since...though Aidan does come close.”

Riona shivered at the memory of Aidan’s ferocity in the tournament.

“Your parents love affair came at an inopportune time. As I said each clan is led by a single Druid, but those three clans are all beneath the one who wears The Hawthorn Crown. But our Cyning died suddenly...murdered.” “By who?” Riona asked suddenly. “Patience,” chuckled Myrddin.

“We needed a new leader and quickly. The obvious choice was your father, but that meant he must elect a new Thaen for Andraste. Aidan was his favorite...but a wild thing. Unsuited to leadership. So your father chose Cynbel. Aidan and Cynbel were close in age, had been raised together as siblings. Inseperable until—“ Myrddin’s voice broke and he placed his face in the palm of his hand softly.

“Myrddin?” Riona was at his side in an instant, “You don’t have to go on, I’m sorry...” “No-No...” Myrddin sat up again and took her shoulder in his hand, “I have ignored the past long enough. It is an old wound, but it stings.” “There was a war,” Myrddin sighed and to Riona it sounded like the last breath of summer as it shifts into fall, “but I’m getting ahead of myself. Your parents. So, our Cyning died and we knew Emrys was to be elected in his stead. It was around this time your mother came to me in a panic.” “She didn’t want him to be the Cyning?” Myrddin smiled softly.

“No, çild. She was pregnant, with you.”

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 8 years

Text

Chapter Forty-One

The bitter tea leaves clumped on Riona’s tongue and she tried not to choke. The fire in the hearth had died down to glowing embers, giving off a thick smoke. The haze clogged Riona’s nose and tainted her mouth with an ashy taste.

Beside her Myrddin was humming deeply. The sound reverberated in his chest like a drum. One veined hand held her own gently. The touch seemed to tie them together tenuously. Riona felt her eyelids growing heavy while her breathing slowed. Her body felt clogged with weight as if her veins had filled with sand. She was unsure if she had fallen asleep for she felt at once alert and yet muddled. Vague shapes and bursts of light danced before her eyes. Sounds slipped between the images but blurred as if she were underwater. With a sudden rush of the senses these hapless pieces formed a whole and enveloped her in a single experience.

Riona blinked rapidly and tried to take in her new surroundings. A high clear laugh broke over her like a gust of wind.

“Emrys!” Myrddin’s familiar voice caused Riona to turn. As she did the scene solidified.

Two figures were racing toward her.

“Emrys! Slow down!” the figure furthest from her was obviously Myrddin. The nearer of the two drew up in front of Riona, coming rapidly to a stop. His chest heaved with breath but a wide grin seemed etched into his features. He bent over at the waist; his hands clutched his knees. Another, more ragged laugh, escaped him and he sank into the thick green grass.

So this was her father.

His hair was a thick mass of dark auburn pulled back haphazardly into a low braid. The long grass dancing around him matched his eyes, green as a summer sea. Riona saw in him her own sharp features and thin limbs. In height, however she estimated her own head would peak at his chest. Riona knelt down in the grass beside him; her lips parted gently as she took a wavering breath.

“Faeder...” she knew he could not hear her, but still the word slipped quietly from her throat.

Mryddin finally caught up, breathing heavily.

“What’s gotten into you?”

Emrys sat up on his elbows and fixed Mryddin in an amused gaze.

“I have met beauty, brother, and she is as soft and warm as the summer sun.”

Myrddin’s face scrunched in distaste.

“You disgust me.”

Emrys laughed that clear laugh and stretched his arms skyward.

“Only because you have not tasted love like mine!” he cried triumphantly.

Myrddin groaned and sank to his knees.

Emrys rolled over and gripped Myrddin’s hands.

“Will you not meet her?”

“Meet—“ Myrddin paused in confusion, “of whom do you speak?”

Emrys sat up, suddenly serious.

“Will you meet her?”

Myrddin’s eyes narrowed and he picked a blade of grass from his tunic.

“If it means that much to you...” there was a hint of jealousy in his voice.

A thick fog suddenly rolled in and enveloped Riona. Then as suddenly as it had come it drifted away. The scene, however, had changed. It was night, the air was the kind of cold that snaps in your lungs. A hooded figure moved through the dark before her. Somehow she knew it was Myrddin. He neared a cloister of trees. As he drew into the shadow of the leaf laden limbs the soft murmur of voices met Riona from within. Myrddin paused beside her and then crept silently forward. The moon was full and bright, casting an uneven glow over the trees. Myrddin stopped just short of the source of the voices. Rona looked over his shoulder and into a small clearing. Emrys and a young woman stood before them. They were speaking excitedly in hushed tones. Emrys drew the woman into his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. A gesture so surprisingly intimate Riona blushed for having witnessed it. Myrddin seemed to have similar feelings; he cleared his throat awkwardly. Emrys glanced up, a bright smile spread across his lips.

“You came!”

Myrddin lowered the hood to his cloak.

“I said I would.”

Emrys took the young woman’s hand and led her quickly toward where Myrddin stood.

“Myrddin, I want you to meet Nimue—“

Emrys took the woman’s shoulders in his hands and gently pushed her forward. Riona felt a vice grip her heart tightly.

“Mother...”

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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thehawthorncrown-blog · 9 years

Text

Chapter Forty

A veiled orange glow hung over Myrddin’s chambers. The hazy light flickered from the stone hearth casting dancing shadows across the walls. Riona’s feet barely brushed the floor from where she sat on the edge of the bed. Luc lay beside her, his chest rising and falling sofly. Riona glanced up as Myrddin bustled into the room. A wooden platter, full of bread, cheese, and sweet-meats was balanced delicately in his left hand. The Druid hummed to himself quietly as he set down the tray.

“Come eat, çild.”

Riona blinked quickly at the term of endearment Myrddin usually reserved for Aidan.

“Myrddin?” Riona asked softly.

“Hmm?”

“What does that mean?”

Myrddin brushed his hands together absently.

“Çild?”

“Yes.”

Myrddin pulled out a chair at the table and motioned for her to join him. Riona stood quickly and sat on the wooden stool, helping herself to a small portion of bread. Myrddin sat beside her and nibbled on a chunk of cheese.

“It means ‘child’ in our tongue.”

“Druidic? Yours and Aidan’s speech?”

Myrddin’s eyes glinted at her beneath his thick grey brows.

“And yours, Riona,” he corrected her.

Riona flushed and avoided his gaze.

Myrddin seemed to sense her discomfort.

“You know, Riona,” he said pouring her a frothing mug of ale from a clay jug, “You and I are kin.”

Riona felt a small bud of warmth open in her chest, her jaw dropped slightly in surprise.

“I had n-no idea!” she gasped.

Myrddin smiled gently.

“Emrys- your father- was my brother.”

Riona’s eyes widened dramatically.

“I thought Druids did not keep familial ties!”

Myrddin chuckled.

“Not usually,” he shifted his weight before continuing, “However, Emrys and I were womb-kin.”

Riona’s brow furrowed.

“Womb-kin?”

Myrdding swallowed a bite of bread.

“Twins.”

This information further drew Riona into a state of shock. It was as if she was looking at Myrddin for the first time. Suddenly each wrinkle in his skin, ever freckle, was imbued with importance as she realized this was the closest she would ever come to seeing the face of her father. She almost forgot to breath.

“I’m sure you have many question,” said Myrddin gently.

Riona took in a shaky gasp as she blinked back warm tears.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Riona tried to take a drink of ale but her hand shook.

Myrddin folded his hands together in his lap.

“How much has Aidan told you?”

“Practically nothing,” Riona said sharply.

“That does not surprise me,” Myrddin responded. The Druid chewed on his lower lip in puzzlement; his gaze was suddenly distant.

“Well I suppose any explanation should begin before the schism, when Emrys and I were still young. But you don’t want to listen to the ramblings of an old man—“

“But I do!” Riona objected.

Myrddin tried his best not to smile too broadly.

“What if instead,” he paused, “I could show you.”

#The Hawthorn Crown #r.e. levy

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