My Story
Chapter Five
Repetitions, people, repetitions. Lots of repetitions.
Now, I've had a link on Brenna since the day she was born, and when I found out about her predicament, I was less than pleased. Zeus had no right to do what he did, and he knew it. He was crossing a line, and he knew that, too. The Council cannot strip a god's/goddess's powers without my approval. They were hoping I would be so busy I would overlook their transgression. Fat chance.
So I arrived at Olympus in the middle of a Council of how Brenna was able to overcome her stripping of power. To say the gods and goddesses were happy at my appearance would be a lie. I, ah, stalked through the now-silent crowd, my hood up, and I could see Zeus wince. "Princess . . ." He started, but I cut him off.
"Don't you dare 'Princess' me," I spat, tossing back my hood and glaring at him. "What in the Nine Hells do you think you're doing?"
"What is my right!"
"Only by my grace."
Brenna chose that time to show up, and I booted Zeus out of his throne and sat down, waiting.
The short brunette challenged the gods and goddesses to a fight to the death, and a particularly foolish boy accepted. Brenna won, then brought the boy back to life. The Council was surprised, to say in the least. Brenna's one powerful puppy. Then, of course, she collapsed, from exhaustion, grief, and a variety of other things.
I knelt by her side, then leveled the Council with an icy stare. "If you ever pull this again," I snarled, "You will answer to me."
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When she came to, we were at my fortress in good old Australia, though it wasn't called that back then. I was bathing her forehead, and she sat straight up, snarling. I don't remember the exact particulars of the following conversation. But I left, and by the next morning, she was gone.
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Three months later, she came back, a little worse for wear, and we were plunged into a war. It seemed Valic's followers weren't too happy with Bren for killing their leader, so they decided to, ah, punish her. Since the girl was my Duchess, I wasn't going to let them. The war lasted all of three days. After a few skirmishes, I stepped out on a balcony and exchanged a glance with Brenna, asking if she wanted to do the honors. She shook her head, and I glanced at the army. Instantaneously, every single man, woman, whatever, died, screaming in agony. I'm not a nice person.
That's not entirely true. I can be a very nice person. Just don't piss me off. Ask anybody, and they'll tell you. Don't irritate me.
So that problem was taken care of, and I took Brenna under my wing, figuratively speaking. And, as you've no doubt guessed, time passed.
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Fast-forward to about five thousand years ago. Brenna has undergone some major training, and is now not half-bad at stuff. There have been a few riots, rebellions, and the like, but all have been easily taken care of. And the "first" Immortal is about to discover what he is.
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Brenna and I stood on a hill a few hundred yards away from a merrily blazing village. I had an infant in my arms, thankfully sleeping, and I unconsciously smoothed his dark hair as I watched the fire. "No survivors?" Brenna asked quietly.
"No. None but this little one." I looked down at the child in my arms, and was caught in the gaze of olivine orbs. I think it was then I was lost.
"Does he have a name?"
"No. His mother asked me to do so a long time ago."
"She was a seer. She saw this would happen."
"Yes. And she knew I would not get here until it was too late. She chose not to tell me that part."
"What shall you name him?"
I studied that angular face with a nose that didn't fit, yet somehow did. "Methos. His name is Methos."
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I gave the boy to a friend of mine, instructing him to not tell Methos he was adopted until the time was right. I don't think Perticus (no, not Gabrielle's husband), knew what I was talking about, but anyway. Seventeen years passed. My curiosity got the better of me, and I went to see how Methos was doing. Perticus and I were talking in the garden when I felt a slight buzzing, and my friend tilted his head, then called, "Methos, lad, come in here! There's someone I want you to meet."
Footsteps sounded, and a tall, lanky youth stopped in the doorway. I glanced up, slightly curious, and barely managed to keep from doing a double-take. The infant I had held in my arms seventeen years ago had grown up. His brow creased for a moment, then smoothed out as he gave me a short bow. "Princess. The legends were lying."
"In what, lad?"
"Your beauty far surpasses any description I have ever heard."
Even at seventeen, he was a charmer. I couldn't help but smile as I inclined my head in thanks.
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I stayed with Perticus and Methos for a few weeks, and spent nearly all my time with the young man. Ever since my insanity, I refused to let myself love in the fear I might hurt that someone. So I didn't believe I was falling for Methos. I did want him as my lover, but a mere, I don't know, fling, you could say. Nothing serious.
So the afternoon before I left, we were walking in the woods, and I carefully directed us to the edge of a stream, where, me being the sneaky person I am, I had laid out a picnic. Methos looked at the meal and said, face straight, "The gods must have blessed us. Here's a lovely meal laid out." Then he glanced at me and started laughing. "You are conniving, aren't you?"
I deemed it wise not to answer.
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After we had eaten, we lay on our sides, facing each other, talking. I talk a lot, I've noticed. Methos had his head pillowed on his crooked elbow, and I suddenly reached over to trail my fingers along his angular jaw. His eyelids fluttered half-closed as he nuzzled his face into my palm, and I had to lean over and kiss him. It quickly became a bit steamier, and we rolled so he was on top of me. I'm sure you can guess what happened next, so we're going to skip the next few hours. For those of you who can't, let's just say Methos and I got to know each other very well.
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Ah, afterwards, I had my head on Methos's shoulder, and he was stroking my shoulder, the blanket I conjured covering us. "I wish we could stay like this forever," he whispered. I kissed his alabaster shoulder, then we both dressed, and he hugged me loosely. "You'll come back?"
As I held him, I pondered the question, then decided. "Yes. I'll come back." He brushed his knuckles down my cheek, I traced his lips with my thumb and whispered, "Give my love to your father," then disappeared into the trees.
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The following years aren't very important. I kept an eye on Methos, though I could never bring myself to go see him until he was around--- bugger, what age was it? ---thirty, I think. I heard raiders were attacking his village, and I managed to get there just as Perticus breathed his last. I held his head in my lap, my eyes on Methos's corpse, lying just a few feet away.
He woke with a start, his olivine eyes finding mine. The next thing I knew, he had attacked me, sobbing as he accused me of . . .Well, that's between him and I. I let him beat out his anger and grief, then held him to me as I whispered in his ear. Something in me melted, and I found myself saying, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
When his tears were spent, we buried Perticus, and he almost collapsed from exhaustion and grief. I caught him, and he fell asleep in my arms as I carried him away from the ruins of his village. Once I was sure he was safe, I went after the raiders, and I made them pay.
When I came back, Methos was waiting for me. "What am I?" He asked softly.
I sat down, steepling my fingers. "You are Immortal."
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So began the training of the first Immortal. You didn't think he figured all the Rules and stuff out on his own, did you?
Two hundred years passed; I trained Methos to where he was almost as good as I. We resumed our physical relationship, and life went on until about a thousand years later.
Three Immortals were born: Kronus, Caspian, and Silas.