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News of the Saxon defeat had spread like wildfire throughout Britain, blazing through the moors and hills and reaching those that remained high in the north swiftly. A heavy blow for the cruel tribes...but it would not daunt them, not if their new chieftain had anything to say about it...
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Branwen was up early on the wall, to watch the sunrise through the heavy morning fog on the deep green hills, on a day that promised to be agreeable and sunny. She lifted her face to its light for a moment, saying her morning prayers to the Mother before returning to the post, where a procession was being packed for the journey to the coast.
Morgaine stood silent and thoughtful by her cart, and Branwen stood beside her, much taller then The Lady of Avalon, yet still feeling as if she were a young girl at her teacher's side. "The Woads bring along sacred wood," The priestess noted, watching the dark people of the land loading Rowan and wood from the nine forests into a cart, "Your doing?"
"They asked if it was appropriate to have a rebirth celebration," Morgaine replied, distantly, "A kind of summer Beltane, for Arthur revives their land. I told them the goddess would surely smile on such a thing."
Branwen nodded, watching the people load their carts, while that old familiar knot formed in her stomach. As a priestess of nineteen years old, she was more then old enough to participate, but she didn't want to, couldn't, it would take the goddess physically pushing her out into the night...but perhaps this would be a different kind of celebration. She heard a sigh at her side, and was reminded that she'd been busy worrying about herself, and hadn't realized the troubled haze about her mentor's eyes...
"You seem very far away, Morgaine." Branwen noted softly, and Morgaine nodded, slowly, her eyes still watching the people who gathered to follow them, and to marvel at her.
"It is not easy for Arthur," She replied, "It is not easy for him to accept me, nor to understand Avalon." At this, she cursed under her breath, "Why did Igraine have to marry that Roman and his religion? Why was my brother not brought up as I was?"
"It is understandable that you're disappointed." Branwen murmured, and Morgaine nodded, forcing a smile.
"Well, at least he's to wed a strong warrior for our people." She said briskly, "All things work to the greater purpose...he is a good leader. If all Christians were as he is, I would have no problem accepting them here. But they are not, and I do not."
"Ah, but Rome has left," Branwen reminded her, "Your brother will now be the greatest influence on this island, next to Avalon."
"Very true..." Morgaine agreed wistfully, "All is better then I could have hoped...I only wish..."
"Yes?"
"That he would call me his sister."
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Branwen felt at home again, once she was back on her horse and riding beside Morgaine's cart, an odd sight for the people, but she simply couldn't stand the thought of spending the journey to the coast cramped inside that jolting cage. The wind was fresh and cool, whipping through her free-flying hair and tempting the lady to let her mount break into a run and disrupt the entire line.
Arthur, Gawain, Galahad and Bors were leading their caravan, Merlin walking swiftly beside his future king. Guenevere was being traditional to the letter on this, the day she and Arthur would wed, and was riding in the cart alongside Morgaine. She would not see Arthur until their binding, though she was still her restless self, peaking out now and then to ask Branwen what landmarks they'd passed and how much further they had to go. Nearing noon, Branwen decided, with a smirk, to put the poor girl in suspense, and moved up to ride beside the wagon Vanora's children were riding in, their mother walking briskly alongside. The two chatted a bit, while Guenevere bit her lip and was left to wonder herself how much longer she had until her wedding.
"Aye, and another's on the way, though his father doesn't know yet." She replied, and Branwen shook her head.
"I don't know how you could do it..."
"One day at a time." Vanora grinned, "Have you any children, Priestess? You seem of an age to have a few."
"No," Branwen shook her head; "I've not yet given myself to the spring fires nor any lover at all. I'm afraid the thought of childbirth leaves me fainthearted."
"I can understand that," The elder woman nodded, "Though I promise, after six, they start walking out on their own."
"I'll remember that." Branwen laughed, as Bors' youngest daughter reached up to her, asking for a ride. She set the little girl to ride before her, lifting her face once more to the soft wind. Her young companion had one of her long red curls in her little hands, humming to herself, and Branwen grinned. She liked children, she really did, it was the silent dread in her the kept her from having one, the fear of leaving a child without a mother...
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"Faster!" The girl of three suddenly cried, and Branwen looked at Vanora, who nodded, smiling, and then the priestess gave her mare her head and set them at a brisk trot, her little passenger squealing in delight. Branwen reined in not far from the head of the party, realizing that one of Arthur's knights had pulled back from the lead, and was now watching her, a gleam in his eyes.
"I see Briallen has found you," Gawain reached out and mussed the light brown curls of the little girl on Branwen's horse, "She loves getting rides."
"I didn't know they'd named her," Branwen smiled, falling into step beside him, and he shook his head.
"Oh we named them all at some point," He grinned, "Vanora kept track, Bors didn't. Dagonet named this one; she was born on the first day of spring. Lancelot had put the year's first Primroses by her cradle...Dagonet was inspired."
"In Avalon we heard much of Arthur's knights..." Branwen smiled, as Gawain reached over and took Briallen on his saddle, "Of their courage, their ferocity, yet I never realized they all had such soft hearts."
"There has to be a break in the spilling of blood sometime," Gawain replied quietly, brushing Briallen's hair back from her face, as she tangled her fingers in his horse's mane, "You know, Lancelot always teased Bors, about Vanora's sons looking like him." He looked up at Branwen, grinning, "While this little girl was the only one of her children who actually did."
Branwen smiled at him, reaching out to touch the child's face, and they rode on in comfortable silence, the hills and forests passing them by, until the early afternoon, when the road became rocky, a distant roar drummed in their ears, and the faint, tangy scent of salt was on the air...
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Arthur wed his Lady that afternoon, by the sacred stones, Guenevere dressed in white, the Roman color of joy, and the Christian color of purity. It was a strange binding, to tell the truth, but a very beautiful and powerful one, a blending of Christian and Pagan. There was no sorrow in Arthur's eyes, he felt no troubles, he only saw his bride. And she was filled with joy to be standing at his side. The energy of the stones, of the earth, the wind, the fire, the water, all was present, powerful, and I felt the goddess there, in that place, blessing their union.
I stood with Morgaine and Eiluned on Guenevere's right, the sea winds whipping through our holy priestess cloaks and braided hair. Arthur did not look at Morgaine, though she was silently blessing their hands as Merlin bound them together. I tried to look at them, but my eyes were drawn to Arthur's knights...to Gawain. He was often gazing at me throughout his friend's wedding, and I wondered at the stirrings his eyes ignited within me...
And then they were wed, and Arthur was proclaimed king, and all attentions were upon him, and upon the blazing arrows that were shot in all directions, sealing his claim as ruler of all Britain. New days had come, days that were filled with promise, for my people, and for myself...
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Author's Notes: I'm baaaaaack
A note on the spelling of Gwenhwyfar: I knew they'd used the widely used French or English spelling of her name in the movie, and the one my spellchecker on Word knew was Guenevere, so I just went with it. Do you know how many versions there are of this girl's name?!
Personally, I prefer the traditional Welsh spelling Gwenhwyfar, it's much prettier and makes much more sense, as she isn't French, but that would have just confused people/been a tongue twister/whatever. To me though, she'll always be Gwenhwyfar ;-)
Apologies if any of my knowledge of pagan/celtic customs is off or inaccurate as far as it relates to the timeline of the movie, I am after all simply a Christian fascinated with the idea of goddess worship XD I think I'm doing pretty well though.
I loooooove each and every review I've gotten, endless love to all
Next chapter: Branwen gets deflowered, YAY! ;-)