Many weeks had passed since Arthur's coronation, and Morgaine had not received word from him, not until the days had brought them to the end of summer, and the first distinct chill on air that was usually warm in Avalon. When the Apple Queen was lying down to rest in the sacred orchards of the Holy Isle, and the frost was starting to touch the grass in the mornings, Merlin came to take word with The Lady of The Lake, in her rooms overlooking the water and the green country.
Branwen was on her bed, Nimue looking after her, as the priestess battled a sickness all too familiar. The little girl bathed her forehead and hummed songs, as Branwen willed the nausea away.
An hour passed, and Morgaine slipped into the girls' room, sitting at the foot of her bed and handing Nimue a bag of herbs and roots to put in Branwen's wine.
"Merlin tells me that Arthur plans to build his army this winter." Morgaine said softly, as Nimue left to do her bidding, "An odd time of year, but he sees no reason to wait, Britain is still weak without Rome's protection. He'll be occupied with recruiting the young men close to Viroconium at present, but in less then two courses of the moon, he'll be campaigning all over the island. It is then that I fear for him." Morgaine took a deep breath, "When Merlin told me of Arthur's marching, immediately I felt a darkness on my being. Branwen, you are blessed with the sight, I know it, and you are the strongest novice I've ever had, save perhaps Nimue, but she is only a small child." She sighed, "I ask of you, will you..."
"Lady," Branwen stopped her, weakly raising her hand, "I...I am with child."
Morgaine shut her eyes tightly, nodding. It was a great risk, now, to do such a thing in such a condition. But Branwen spoke again, "Perhaps...if I take only a very small portion of the mystic's root...it will not harm me."
"I would be indebted to you, my friend." Morgaine smiled softly, and Branwen turned away to face the wall. If the king were lost, so would be all that Morgaine and Merlin and the people of their island had hoped and prayed for so long. That was worth the risk, she told herself, yet she knew that secretly, she was hoping the process would harm her...
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The fires were blazing all around her, a ring of fire atop Avalon under the stars. A substance was brought to Branwen's lips, dusty and soft, like the rotted bark of a tree. She took a tiny bite, shutting her eyes as she did so. She felt a mighty kick in her chest, and she reeled, crying out and her gaze became fixed on the sky above, which spun and blurred in a chaotic mass.
"He leaves behind what shall be slaughtered!" She cried, "He does not see, He can not see! They will tear his heart from him, as they tear the White Queen's from her chest and send it to his camps! They will rip the child from her womb! All shall be sorrow!"
Then as soon as it came, it was gone, and Branwen was falling, falling down the steps of Avalon all the way to the lake. There she became one of the swans, one of the reeds., flying, swimming, deep down into the murky waters. And then all was blackness.
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Morgaine had caught her when she fainted, and brought her back to her rooms in the temple. Branwen awoke many hours later surrounded by her blankets and her belongings, to see the Lady beside her, singing a healing song and bathing her face in gentle wort and thyme. "I did not fall..."
"No," Morgaine said softly, "The powerful medicines sometimes give one frightful dreams, as well as strengthening the power to see the things that will be."
"I...I saw Guenevere." Branwen breathed, "But that is all I remember."
"Your words were that there was death in her future." Morgaine nodded, "She will be in great peril when Arthur marches."
"I do not remember who wanted to harm her..."
"It is strange that you remember anything at all." Morgaine managed a smile, "Now rest. I will think on these things."
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Despite her morbid hopes and fears, the drug did not cause Branwen to lose the child in her womb. She discovered there was indeed strength in her, which perhaps had not been in her family's women before then. And now she faced a greater fear. That perhaps, she might live to see her child...Gawain's child...only to have it taken from her.
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The full moon was high in the sky over the Saxon settlement, and above the council fire that Allerick and his lesser chieftains sat around, the hellish light reflecting in his eyes with a mad ferocity that was unsettling to his followers, even as it was encouraging. Their greatest leaders had always harbored a little madness in their souls.
"What do we need to overthrow Arthur, Amon?" Allerick asked of one of the lesser chieftains, as they all sat under the stars. The Saxon thought for a time, before answering.
"More men, which should be obvious enough." He coughed, and Allerick nodded, thoughtfully.
"More men...more of our men are coming from the hills, but what of those Arthur might recruit?"
"The Brits?" Another chieftain scowled, "Our aim has always been to wipe them off of this island."
"And we will." Allerick nodded, "But it needs to be done soon. And it needs to be done quietly, until more of our people join us here."
"What are you saying?" Amon asked, carefully, but Allerick just grinned, somewhat sadistically.
"Leave it to me." Was all he said on the matter. "For now...put our energy into training the boys who are of age, and those who may have gotten lazy with watching the home front." He sat back on the grass, looking up at the moon, "We'll have our island, men. I promise you that."
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It was two weeks later, while deeply into the time of Harvest Moon, when Morgaine shut herself away in her rooms, and did not come out for three days and three nights. She would not touch food or drink; her time spent tirelessly working on some great project.
Branwen stood watch by her doors, silent and joyless, though the sickness had by that time left her behind. No, now her spirit was in turmoil instead of body, her thoughts drifting to one end of Britain to the other. Avalon was all the life she had ever known, the goddess the only mother she'd truly had. Service had never been exceedingly hard for her, until now. But then, perhaps this was her greatest test, her greatest sacrifice, and her first taste of the pain that life could bring. But then again, was her heart meant to be so sorrowing?
At last, Morgaine opened her doors on the third day, and stepped outside looking weary and worn, though no less ethereal and powerful.
"Branwen," She smiled wanly, "Come, let us take food together."
"I am ahead of you there." The priestess managed a smile, taking the Lady's hand and leading her into her own room, "I had food set out this morning...somehow I knew you'd be done today."
"Of course you did," Morgaine sighed, sitting down at the small table in Branwen's room, where wine and bread was set out, along with autumn berries and Avalon's famed sweet apples. The Lady ate hungrily, before she was rejuvenated enough to talk further. "I am sending you back to Arthur's fortress, Branwen," The priestess froze, a blackberry halfway to her lips, "With Eiluned and Nimue. You will bring Arthur the gift that I have made."
"Lady..." Branwen whispered, "With all my respect, I do not think it would be wise to send me, not now."
"A bit of travel will not harm your child." Morgaine reached out and touched the girl's hand softly, knowingly.
"It is not that," Branwen's lip trembled a bit, and her eyes turned to look out of the window, "I fear I have not been as strong of a daughter to the mother these past months, Morgaine. I have had conflicting feelings, conflicting thoughts, and now to send me back to the place where these things originated..."
"Branwen," Morgaine shut her eyes, and spoke with the voice of The Lady of Avalon, "I may not be strong in the sight, but I am The Lady, and I hear the goddess' voice. And I know that, just as I am lead to send young Nimue, I am lead to send you."
Branwen turned back, and Morgaine opened her eyes, a kind of warmth there that was rare, the kind of warmth the Lady might have given her mother, or a sister. "I understand now," Morgaine spoke, "Why I must send you, but you must find out for yourself. Again, I do not have the sight. But as I worked on the mighty gift I send my brother, the goddess granted me the knowledge in my heart, of where you must go." She smiled, almost sadly, "Someday, you will know as well. For now, trust my judgment?"
Slowly, Branwen nodded, and Morgaine reached out her arms, and embraced her priestess, who sobbed into her shoulder for a time. "I trust you before all others, my friend." She confessed, and Morgaine found herself shedding a tear of happiness. They were friends indeed, and would always remain so.
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The air was chilled and smelled of the Orchards, the gardens of herbs and spices, the scents of my home, when I walked the familiar path down to the barge, for the second time as a traveler, now wearing my warm brown harvest cloak with it's hood drawn around my face. Behind me, Eiluned was dressed much the same, Nimue sheltering close to her side as they walked.
Morgaine watched from the bluff above, the mists turning her into a faint shadow looking on. She was not going with us, and had given no verbal explanation, other then that Nimue was to go for this trip. Most of the novices were puzzled at that, though the priestesses knew that her reasoning would be clear soon enough. For now, the little girl carried Arthur's gift, a large long object wrapped in linen.
Stepping on to the barge with our Woad oarsmen, I looked back, to see Morgaine raising her hands in farewell. Somehow, I was able to manage a smile, and raise my hands in return. And then the barge was sliding off into the mists...I had to turn one last time, to look again.
It gave me the strangest, strongest waking premonition I'd ever had, to see Avalon's green shores fading from my view. A strange, frightful excitement for what was to come, and a cold dread within my heart, that I might never again look upon the Holy Isle, at least, not as had for all of my life...as a priestess of Avalon. A chill ran over me, over my arms, and I pulled my cloak closer about me, shivering.
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Author's Notes: ooooo, foreshadowing... ::bounces:: yay, getting close to stuff happening, hehe
Good catch on the song lyric chapter titles! Now, let's hope I don't run out of fitting lyrics before I run out of chapters =P Might throw in a few from the soundtrack as well, as I am in love with the song by my other goddess, Moya Brennan. Long live Clannad. Long live celtic-inspired music in general.
::adding links to profile:::
In other news, it's hard sticking to a vegan diet when one is pmsing and craving steak...thank god for gardenburgers.
I loff you all =D