Right, so I know I shouldn't be starting another story, what with me taking a lot of time to write Magic & Myths, but you see, I have many characters running about in my head, and it's ver hard to please them. So I wrote this chapter, and if there is enough interest, or at least a bit of interest, and people want me to continue the story, then I shall. Eventually. Fingers crossed. Just a heads up, though. The Merlin bit of the story won't happen for quite a while, not for a few chapters, anyway.

Apologies!

I like to remember my father the way he looked when he was in court. Strong. Courageous. As if nothing could ever throw him, or bring him to his knees. He was a good king, a great king. His subjects loved him. His Queen, my mother, and his other wives all loved him too. My brothers, sisters and I loved him. The whole of Eriú loved him.

Well, I suppose that's a slight exaggeration on my part. Every king has his enemies. And my father certainly had enemies.

For a few years, my father's reign was nothing but peaceful. The land was bountiful, rich with food, and people, and culture and magic. Of course, this could never last.

My family's troubles all began over a book. Yes, a book. They seem like the least troubling things in the world, a method of escaping from reality. But a book was what caused the fighting, and ultimately the death of thousands of people. The story of the book begins like this:

A monk called Colmcille copied another monk, Uinniau of Moville's manuscript. Of course, Uinniau objected, and said that the copy belonged to him. To settle their disagreement, they brought the matter up to my father, Diarmait mac Cerbaill, the Ard Rí na hEriú.

I was present when my father made his decision. He listened to both sides of the story, and when everything was said, he adjudged in Uinniau's favour, putting his decision simply as "to every cow its calf and to every book its copy." There was no other appropriate decision, some believe. Colmcille made the copy without permission from the owner, and therefore, it did not belong to him. Colmcille stated that the copying of the manuscript needed to be done for the future of the church, but it was all for naught.

Colmcille sought revenge, and went looking for support from his kinsmen among the Cenél Conaill and the Cenél nEógain of the northern Uí Néill. They all agreed to go to war with my father.

The battle was held at a place called Cúl Dreimne, a remote place. On one side, there were the supporters of Colmcille, among them his kinsmen, and people who were against the Old Religion. On the other side, were my father, his people, and his druids, believers in both the Old and the New Religion. Colmcille fought supposedly with God on his side, and my father, with nothing but 'superstition and heretical Gods.'

Maybe fate was just not on his side. He lost 3000 men that day, and Colmcille's supporters lost one.

After that battle, my father was never the same. He grew distant, and gloomy. Eithne once said she feared he was not long for this world. Of course, my father had fought in battles before, and he fought in battle long afterwards, but none affected him the same way the Battle of Cúl Dreimne, the Battle of the Book, had.

But Colmcille was not my father's nemesis, or his downfall. He was, in fact, my cousin and the precursor of worse to come. No, my father's nemesis, so to speak, was a man called Áed Dub mac Suibni.

Áed was king of the Cruithnig, and long before I or my siblings were born, was the foster child of my father. The only reason my father gave for their falling out was that it was over a woman, as most fallings out between men seem to be.

When Áed had reached manhood and long after he had returned home to his parents, he asked my father if he could ask for the hand of a daughter of the Conmhaicne, a great and ancient tribe that were spread and divided and scattered over the entirety of Eriú. Father allowed him to do so, and Áed picked a bright and beautiful woman, whose name remained unknown to me throughout the tale. Although while with my father, Áed had been taught to understand, appreciate and be in awe of the magic of the druids, the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Sidhe, in the time he had been gone, he had learned to hate it, to despise it and worst of all, to strike it down at any opportunity.

Although having magic was not considered a thing to sing about at the top of your voice, it also was not hidden and to have magic was considered both a blessing from God and a gift from the Tuatha Dé Danann throughout the land . It was not widely known that my father had magic, or that most of the members of the court at Tara had magic. It was also not widely known, unfortunately, that the bright and beautiful woman who was to be Áed's bride had magic.

She and Áed were wed, and within their first year of marriage, she gave birth to a daughter. The woman had hidden all signs of her magic from Áed, and would have continued to have succeeded in her endeavour had her daughter been born without magic. One morning, Áed awoke to see his child using her powers to float several objects around the room for her own entertainment. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. To say that he was now disgusted by the very mention of his child wouldn't be.

He cornered his wife, demanded she explain herself, and only managed to get an answer out of her, in the form of a blast of powerful magic, when he went to attack her. His answer received, Áed dragged his wife with their child in her arms to the dungeons, where they would await their death.

It seemed that the things Áed knew about his wife were considerably fewer than what he didn't know. He did not know what her favourite colour was. He did not know her mother's name. He did not know that in her time living at his fort, she had endeared herself to the entire court and the many staff that lived and worked in it. And he did not know that when growing up, she had become great friends with a man who supported, believed in and had magic, the man who had given his consent to their marriage, my father.

Through the staff, she managed to get a message to my father about her predicament, and he, along with the woman's father, set off at once to rescue her. My father never went into detail about what happened when they arrived. He only ever said that the child survived and was now being cared for and loved by a new family. Whenever it was asked, most often by my brother, Colmán Bec, whether the woman lived or not, my father would gain a distant look in his eyes and a stormy expression on his face, and that's where the tale ended.

Apparently, Áed did not appreciate my father saving his child, and afterwards, my father's name was nothing but a curse on his lips. The grudge he held for my father led to what inevitably was my father's death, and the destruction of my family.

All the character's in this chapter are historical, except for the narrator. Granted, their timeline doesn't match Arthur's and Merlin's (it's off by about 50 years), but I didn't think that would matter much. Does it? Anyway, so yes, they're historical figures, and the land of Eriú is Ireland, but back then, Ireland had a few names. The reason for the difficulties between Diarmait and Áed are made up to suit the story.

This will sound like begging, but if you like the sound of this story, please, please, please tell me! In a review, maybe, or a PM. Please! :D