Author's note – I hope this chapter isn't confusing. The first half is all about Lucan while the rest concerns what is going on with Aranwen. I was thinking about separating this into two chapters but decided they both share a common theme. Thanks to chiefhow for reviewing my last few chapters. You help keep my enthusiasm for this story.

Chapter 10 – Unmistakable Bonds

The strangersat one down from the head of the table, at Morgaine's right hand side while Marcus, her husband, sat at her left. Lucan watched as Morgaine took every opportunity possible to look at this stranger. She peered over the rim of her goblet as she drank and cast her eyes upwards as she ate. The man, a young man younger than Lucan even, was aware of such eyes but was reluctant to meet them with his own. Instead, he ignored them, socializing with the men next to him – Marcus' men.

He was a handsome man, Lucan observed. He knew that if it was notfor the squirming infant in Elaine's arms,Elaine would succumb too to his charm along with all the women of Morgaine's court. Lucan eyed the man's clean and unmarred face – he was no man of battle. In his eyes, Lucan found himself being reminded oddly of someone he knew though he was not sure what it was. Such a mystery baffled him beyond ease.

"Welcome home, my son," Morgaine suddenly said, raising her chalice. The man looked up at her hastily, avoiding her eye as best he could. Lucan watched as he forced a pleased smile and Morgaine pulled him into a shaky embrace to kiss him coldly on the cheek. It seemed everyone at the table was surprised at such an action – even the words coming from their queen's mouth was something new to them. Morgaine had a son and no one knew? Marcus knew, Lucan decided, for his face remained stiff and unmoved. His permanent scowl did not shift from his face. He was almost as cold as Morgaine was but he wore a different mask.

"It is a pleasure to return – home, but I do not remember such a place. I do not even remember your face, my lady," the man said with a note of sadness in his tone. But the sadness was not for not ever being able to know Morgaine for what was there to know besides a hidden fear and bitterness?

"Morgaine never mentioned she had a son," Elaine whispered. Lucan turned to look into her curious eyes. "He is very handsome… why, he looks very much like his uncle – Arthur," Elaine remarked, saying Arthur's name with respect and a pronounced somberness.

"Indeed he does," Lucan began, distracted still by the stranger. Elaine pulled at the red braid over one of her shoulders and bit her lip, staring in wonderment at the stranger at the table. He ate his food in a polite manner – unlike any of the knights or any of the other men who sat with them. A clean, polished sword hung from his belt. He was clean, gentle in his manner – the sort of knight that only exsisted in fairytales.

The stranger looked up from his food, unwittingly catching the eye of Elaine. She smiled and looked away and down at the child in her arms. Lucan frowned but was not concerned. He will leave soon, Lucan knew, and be gone from Morgaine's watchful eye – and from Elaine's eyes and my own. Or so he hoped.

The music from the Great Hall had died down to tiresome murmurs by the time the people began to retire to their beds. Drunken laughter erupted every so often but Lucan was not a part of it. Elaine stayed by his side, an odd thing for she often left before drunken songs werebeing sungand men staggered around the room until eventually they were led to their rooms or fell asleep, snoring upon the rushes scatteredacross the floor. Elaine bent her head over the bundle in her arms, whispering quiet songs and rocking the child gently until she was too weary to move any longer.

"My name is Balen," a voice said from above her. She gasped, startled at the sudden sound. Lucan stood up from his seat as the son of Morgaine approached them. Elaine said nothing and turned to her husband for a response.

"Welcome, Balen, to Arthur's court," Lucan said carelessly. Elaine grimaced and looked away but Balen did not argue his words. Instead, he smiled and gave a light laugh.

"Arthur's court is it? Aye, I hear he was a wise ruler… he fought for freedom. My foster-father spoke greatly of him. My only sorrow is that I was never able to learn from him." Balen held respect for the dead king which surprised Lucan. His mother's dark spirit did not reside in him. There was something different inside him – something familiar. Morgaine watched from her chair. Her eyelids were not heavy and her posture was not affected by the late hour. She watched closely and Lucan was afraid that she had heard his words spoken unwittingly.

"My husband spoke carelessly, my lord," Elaine said nervously. The child in her arms whimpered as she shook.

"All is forgiven." Balen turned to Lucan suddenly, his voice lowered to a deep secretive whisper. "Do you know my mother?" he asked. "The knights say you have spoken to her and she to you." Balen pulled Lucan and Lucan did not speak a word to protest. He took him to the darkness of the corridor where nothing could be seen but his shadow.

"I have known your mother since I was a young boy," Lucan replied.

"They say your name is Lucan, is it not?"

"Yes, I am Lucan."

"Lucan… I do not know you but they say I can trust you. No – I see you and know I can trust you. You fear her, do you not? I know you do for you cower under her stare. It is nothing to be ashamed of for I share that fear. We have something in common and I need you to help me."

--

She was not unlike Aranwen in looks or even in spirit. Rhian's face was oddly familiar and very much like her own. Rhian starred in turn at Aranwen as she stood in the entrance way of her shelter. She was not unwanted, Aranwen knew, for the distraught girl beckoned her to go to her. She reached out with a weak, desperate attempt to have Aranwen in her grasp.

"Guinevere.. no…" Rhian breathed, taking Aranwen's arm and embracing it tightly, then wrapping her own arms around Aranwen – binding Aranwen to her. "Is it not you, aunt… why, you are me… What name do you come by, stranger if your name is not my own? Or are you a demoness taking my form – Guinevere's form… I do not fear you." Rhian's whispers stopped abruptly and she pressed her ear to Aranwen's breast, listening for a heart. "A living ghost," she murmured, drawing away shakily.

"I am Aranwen" Aranwen said quietly, holding the girl's unsteady hands in her own. "I am the daughter of Guinevere – your cousin, I think, if you are Rhian."

"Oh, my cousin? And why have I not seen you before, cousin? Or are you here to trick me? My cousin you are not… ha! Guinevere has gone, cousin!" Thian wept, sobbed, her face low to the ground and her cheeks pressed against the cold earth.

"I am her only child!" Aranwen cried. "I am here under Merlin's mentorship!" There was a silence. Rhian studied Aranwen closely, eyes prying.

"Your wrists, cousin…" Rhian hissed suddenly. She snatched Aranwen's wrists in her shaking hands and pulled them down in front of her eyes, squinting at them in the light of her lantern. "Scratch marks… where he pinned you down… and your face, cousin…" Rhian looked up at Aranwen's face, touching her cheek with cold fingers. "Faded marks where he beat you… your lips were unwilling for they are cracked and bruised… I know…" Rhian said delicately. Aranwen's eyes grew wide in fear, fearing this mad woman who could see wounds that were already healed.

"You know?" she asked, astonished.

"I know," Rhian replied coldly. "I know." She placed her hand on her belly, swallowing a whimper and suppressing a shameful grimace. "Perhaps we share a common bond you and I – except you were lucky." Aranwen's tongue moved between her teeth but no words came out. "Do not look at me like I am weak!" Rhian screamed. She reached behind her head and ripping three feathers from the twine that bound her hair. "These are mine!" she boasted. "The feather you wear around your neck bears no significance to your own accomplishments. What are you? You are an imposter!"

"It is my mother's!"

"It is your mother's kill!" Rhian shouted, tearing the feather from Aranwen's neck. "She earned it not you… you do not wear the blue!"

"I will wear the blue," Aranwen vowed through her teeth, holding out her hand, demanding that she have her treasure back.

"When, Aranwen?" Rhian asked, finally addressing Aranwen with her true name. "When the Saxons raid our villages? There is no time, Aranwen. You do not know them… you have never seen them. You have not witnessed the terrors… they are barbarians, Aranwen. They do not negotiate peace. There are only two of your father's knights who can still fight… our land has no leader – one is dead and the other is dying."

"Merlin is dying?" Aranwen asked, alarmed by the sudden news. Rhian nodded.

"Do you not here the rasp in his voice. Do you not see his limp as he walks… each breath he takes is a burden. Arrian will take his place… but Arrian is not wise nor is he strong. Soon… soon we will hear their battle drums. They will burn our forests… they will burn our villages… they will kill us all…" Aranwen took the girl's hand and squeezed it tightly in her own.

"The child you carry is of barbaric blood…" she said quietly. Rhian snarled at her and swiped at her face with her long, dirtied fingernails. Rhian let out a banshee's shriek and fell to the ground, grinding her face into the dirt in a savage manner, smearing the dirt across her face.

"Get out of here!" she screamed.

"No… Rhian… I meant no insult by it!" Aranwen cried, pulling the older girl from the ground and holding her close even as Rhian struggled. Rhian's sobs stopped suddenly and she slid to the ground a second time.

"I will not give back your mother's trophy… I will throw it in the fire so its ashes may be free in the wind as your mother is. You train, Aranwen… learn as it was your wish was it not when you came here? Merlin is old and will not be here for very long. Learn and live while you can. The final battle will ensure our ends for there will be no other like it in our lifetime… no go, go Aranwen. Sleep now while your dreams echo the happier things…"

"Happiness is no longer present in my thoughts, Rihian, much less my dreams."

"Aye, but worse things are still to come."