Author's Warning: Contains adult content- Be aware of what you read!!!

Rhyfela- Welsh word- meaning war- pronounced Reef-el-a.

Mawredd-Welsh word- meaning majesty-pronounced Ma-h-red

Brenhines-Welsh word-meaning queen- pronounced Fren-hines

The Princess and the Sheriff

I'm glad you're my maker
My Loyalty lies in your hands, you're my breath taker
Your body, your kiss is in unknown demand
So take command, go

The way you came at me, boo
Dont care, not afraid I'm like Wild

My moon belongs to your sun

Maybe we can start over yet
Maybe we can run this town
Maybe I'll be your vampire
We can figure it out

In the morning after
The dawn is here, be gone be on your way
In the morning after

-The Morning After by Timberland

Chapter 15: Brenhines Rhyfela

Shreveport, LA…

Eric sat on the couch in the apartment; head in his hands. His jeans were stained with blood as he wept softly. Godric was in Lennie's bedroom; sitting with her. Their Maker had not left her side from the moment she arrived. He even slept next to her during the day. Eric had sat with him for the first two nights. On the third night, Godric had ordered him to look at the laptop Lennie had secured.

What he found hurt, enraged him. He now had proof that Sophie-Ann was going to betray him. She had arranged for him to sell V in her queendom; it had been a mutual agreement. With Godric's visit in her lands; the queen was afraid Eric might turn against her. So she had arranged for his deals to be made public knowledge. Keeping her own involvement out of the media. Once word got out; he was to have been shot by vampire assassin. It would of course be linked to the Fellowship of the Sun; again, keeping the Queen insulated from being discovered. Eric's replace was to be a man that had sworn loyalty to the queen.

Now that they had her laptop; they could stop the release of the information. But they had to do it fast. Nan Flannigan was arriving in New Orleans in two days; to meet with the queen. As ruler of this State; it was Sophie-Ann's duty to report any criminal activity to the Vampire League of America.

None of this is what made Eric cry. He had faced betrayal before. What made him cry was the woman in the room behind him. Lennie had not awakened, once. Not one time in close to three days. It was entirely possible she was finally dead. No one knew if a vampire's body could die without being physically destroyed. But that appeared to be the case here.

Though, his Maker had assured Eric she would return, Eric was not convinced. She lay dead because of him. All because he had sent her after the assassin. He had told her to burn them all and not stop until every last one was dead. He should not have done it. He should have taken the task out of her hands and told her to leave it alone. But he hadn't. He had gone against his instincts and now she was dead. And it was his fault.

Eric continued to weep in the living room.

**

Godric sat on a small chair next to the bed Lennie lay in . He held her hand; whispering softly in her native language. Through his link with her; he knew she was gone. Her soul had left this world during the final moments. But her body had remained. Through work and lots of blood; her body was repaired. Now they just needed her Soul to return. Until it did, Lovisa would not exist.

He continued to whisper; talking to her. Eventually he would reach her. And time was something he had plenty of. As long as they kept her body fed; it too would wait for her to return.

Take your time, Lovisa. Godric spoke within her mind. He hoped to reach that place where she rested. We'll watch over you. Come back when you are ready.

**

Jason rolled over; sleep had claimed him hours ago. His dreams were strange tonight . He was dreaming of Lennie. This was a who who was a queen.

Dream sequence

Year: 1013 A.D.

Camp of Brenhines Rhyfela

Dusk...

Wind blew in from the ocean; the air was salty, heavy with dampness. Grey clouds obscured the fading sun from view. It was late in the day. Night would soon claim this island land once again. Bright colored flags snapped back and forth in the wind. Flames swayed from their torches. Soldiers moved about the land; returning from another long day of battle. Shadows were tossed back and forth against the cloth walls of their queen's tent. The fire-lit-shadows competed with those that moved within the tent. Several torches stood guard around the largest of all tents.

The tent of Queen Rhyfela was huge. It befitted her station and the space was needed. The queen often planned battles in her tent. Her three generals were all large, burly men. The space was needed to allow for easy movement and conversation. The tent was divided into three separate sections, linked together by cloth walls. Each section was made from massive lengths of heavy material strung tight. The supporting braces were staked down to into the emerald ground. Four huge lengths formed the walls of the main area of the tent. Two other sets of four walls were stretched wide to form private rooms.

The main tent was for planning. The second tent was the dressing area for the queen and her servants. The third was the private area of the queen.

Men and torches guarded the main entrance of the main tent. The second tent had an entrance at the back off to one side for the queen's servants. Men stood guard there too. There was a ring of guards around the wall of the queen's private area. A dozen guards stood at attention around the entrance. two arcs of six men each. Another four guards were stationed in a semi-circle formation two feet from the main entry.

There were dozens of torches staked into the ground around the queen's tent. The torch-light glowed off the edges of the guards chest armor. Layers of heavy wool were folded around their shoulders and hips. The shadows played around their knees; warming the feet inside their leather boots. The every guardshad a sword at their hip and a spear in hand. Their faces were serious as they stared out at the darkening landscape.

Within the main tent; firelight from braziers tossed light and shadow around. The grass floor was covered with woven reed mats. Over which animal furs had been placed. The main tent was for planning battle. There was one large wooden table and four stools. This is where the queen and her generals gathered.

Off to the corner of the tent was a smaller table laden with a gold pitcher full of wine; matching goblets and a plate of bread, fruit, and cheese.

On the other side of the tent was a large cleared area; no mats or furs here. A wooden structure waited patiently to hold the armor of the queen. Two young women stood with grim expressions; hands clasped in front of them. There simple uniforms were dark-colored dresses. A simple clasp at either shoulder kept the dress closed around their bodies. Leather belts cinched their waist, attached to the belt, were two knives; one on either hip. They awaited their mistresses orders.

Three generals stood with their queen. Each of them wore leather and armor. The smallest of them was the most powerful. She was a queen who ruled on the battlefield. She had not seen her palace in years. She wore no crown; no great mass of jewels. Such things were packed in heavy trunks, buried beneath layers of armor and leather. She was a warrior-queen; they had no need for jewels. She was a child who had never had a childhood. Her playtime had been spent learning to fight. There was no one better with any weapon. She had mastered those of the invaders as well. On the battlefield she was unparalleled in courage and bravery. That is why, at eighteen years, she commanded an army of 5,000 strong. Countless more had sworn allegiance. She controlled the most land in the history of her people.

All of four people were hunched around a large wooden table. Their queen spoke with authority and command. Their language was no longer used; but in this time and place, it was common.

"They will come at us here," The queen drew her finger along the map. "General Finn, for tonight, I want the patrols doubled here. Put them in units of three. One runner, one archer, and one swordsman."

General Finn nodded. "Agreed, Brenhines."

General Finn was a burly man with dark brown eyes and hair. His hair was going grey-as shown at the temples and beard. He was the largest of the three men. He was eldest of her living generals and more then twice her age. He had served her father before the king's death.

She pointed to another place on the map, "They will break their army into two waves. The first wave Connor and I will discuss later." She paused, looking over the map for a moment. "Gryf. I want this area laid with oil. You and your men will light the oil. Keep this section contained in the flames. Keep the two legions apart. Let the flames burn up their army."

Gryf was a red-headed man, with a large build and deeply lined face. He was the youngest of her generals.

Connor was the second eldest; he was also her close friend.

No one whispered about them. It was well known that their queen had no lovers. She took no interest in any one; for any reason other then war. They had never met a woman like her. What the men whispered about was her orgins. They said she was born of the gods they whorshipped. Brenhines Rhysfela was the long-awaited answer to countless prayers from her people.

Gryf nodded solemnly. "I will make the plans tonight, Mawredd."

Finn muttered, "We'll watch them burn, Brenhines, as they burned our villages."

The queen looked at Gryf, "I want to see the plans when you are done."

He nodded, "I will bring them myself before dawn."

Their queen stood up from the table, "That is all for now."

The three men bowed and walked backward as they departed. They turned only to step through the flap over the entry.

Once they were gone; the young woman's shoulders dropped. Her eyes closed for a moment of settled on her body and she leaned on the table. How had she gotten so old so fast? She sighed, I was born old. That is what her father used to tell her. She came into this world with a sword in hand; ready for the battle her life would hold.

"Brenhines? Are you ill?" The eldest girl asked, crossing her mistress.

"Be still, Brighid," Rhyfela sighed heavily.

The girl stopped where she stood, between the table and her former post.

Rhyfela opened her eyes, she looked at her hands. "Aislin, fetch water and fresh clothes."

The younger girl curtsied, "Yes, Brenhines."

"Brighid come."

Entering the second tent, Rhyfela unbuckled the belt around her waist. Brighid crossed to her; accepting the belt. She laid it carefully on a small tabel. The servant-girl carefully unbuckled the metal chest guard. She moved quickly; and silently. The armor was soon removed. It would have to be cleaned of blood and mud, polished, and repaired before dawn. Brighid carried it to a seperate table. She carefully laid it out. Returning to her queen. She helped the young queen comb out her hair. The bronze comb eventually moved smoothly through the thick mass. The hair fell around her queen hips; shrouding her black silk.

Aislin came back into the room. She carried a large wooden bowl of waterto a stool; setting it down. Brighid and Ailsin used cloths to wipe the mud from the naked lplanes of their queen's body. Rhyfela stood silent and unmoving as her servants washed her clean. The two girl did not speak the entire time.

Aislin picked up the bowl of filthy water; hurrying to fetch another clean bowl. She returned moments later with clean cloths and water.

"Brenhines," Brighid said gently

Rhyfela looked up; her maid nodded her head. She looked down. There was still bloody mud dried on her upper body. She nodded with silent permission, allowing them to touch her chest.. Brighid and Aislin worked quickly, washing her front clean.

Aislin collected the second bowl and left the tent. Rhyfela moved back to the main tent; still naked and not caring. Brighid followed her queen;. the young queen stood over the table laden with maps.

"Shall we bring your sleeping gown, Brenhines?"

"No," Rhyfela shook her head, "My winter clothes; I am not finished yet."

Brighid curtsied and left the main tent. She busied herself with gathering her queen's winter clothes.

Rhyfela crossed the floor. She was still naked; the cold air didn't affect her. The queen stopped before a large wooden chest. Opening it she crouched down and began sorting through the scrolls. She needed to find that damn map. Without it, she'd have to send a scout out tonight; to re-plot the land. The map was no where to be found. She stood up, slamming the chest loud as she cursed. The men were tired; they had fought most of the day. It was unfair to send them out again. Still, it needed to be done.

Brighid returned with clothes and helped her queen change. Rhyfela stepped into loose fitting pants and a heavy over tunic. The tunic was dark red with purple threads woven through it. Her sword was anchored around her hips using a thick band of studded leather. The final item was a massive black cloak; warm even in the harshest of winds. The cross-ties for her cloak were sewn at each shoulder. The servant handed them to her queen; allowing Rhyfela to cross them between her breasts. She reached behind and tied them securely at her lower back. The young girl turned to leave, Rhyfela touched her shoulder.

"Brenhines?"

"It will be very cold tonight. Use the furs from my trunk; make sure you and Ailsin keep warm."

Brighid bowed her head, "You are very kind, Mawredd."

"Finish with my armor. Then both of you may rest. Tomorrow will be very cold as well; I want you both to be well slept."

Brighid bowed her head, "I will do as you wish."

The servant crossed to the other side of the tent; collecting her queen's armor. Brighid silently left the main tent. She exited through the side panel of the second tent.

Rhyfela left her tent; gathering her cloak about her. Four guards silently moved to follow. She turned, facing them as she held up a hand. They paused.

"Be still, my friends. You have fought bravely today. Rest here; I will not go far."

They did not question her; keeping their posts.

The queen crossed over the emerald grass;her feet made soft whipsers. the cold wind was stronger now. Her cloak barely moved. She crossed behind the tent of General Finn; from within she heard the sounds of love-making. The woman made gentle sounds of pleasure.

Stepping around the tent; she paused to look at across the land. Great bonfires burned every few feet; throwing light and heat against the cold wind. The land was dotted with thousands of tents; fires burned like small stars warming the air around her men. Soliders moved about, talking with one another. Others sat around the fires in small groups, talking, drinking, eating. There was strong loyalty amongst the men who served her. They were being merry as night claimed the land.

She made her way down passed the tents, her men stood. Coming to attention until she passed by. She nodded to them and kept going. They regained their seats as her back receded down the path.

Rhyfela walked until she came to the edge of the cliff; several yards from her tent. Hundreds of feet down the ocean slammed against the shore. Sending a cold, salty spray into the air. She made no move to wipe it from her face. The cold was refreshing. The salt reminded her of wounds she had not tended to yet. She looked down at the beach. Great fires burned; the ocean drowned out any noise from the camp below. Her enemy camped in the cold night; she could make out only the faintest of motion. How she wished to see more. But the darkness was too much; too dark for her eyes to penetrate.

She heard the softest of sounds at her back. She knew who it was; so his voice did not surprise her.

"Brenhines,"

Rhysfela glanced over her shoulder. General Connor stood a few feet back. She nodded. He stepped up to her side; gazing down to the beach. They contemplated their enemy in silence. At one point tonight, she had considered attacking the enemy camp. Take them while they sleep. But today's battle had been hard on them; all of them. This enemy was far stronger then any she had faced before.

"We fought well today, General." She finally told him. Her voice was heavy with exhaustion and the weight of her positon. "I trust you have spoken to your men; commended them for their efforts."

"Yes, Brenhines, each of us did."

She sighed, "I need you to find two scouts who are able to run the land. We need to have an accurate plot for tomorrow. Send them with one guard a piece."

He nodded, "It will be done." Connor handed her a rough sheet of parchment. "The causality count for today."

Rhyfela looked at the parchment; the ink was dark against the rough surface. She didn't want to take it. She had seen too many of her men not return. Although she did not know them all; she knew the looks in the eyes of her men. Many had lost friends today. She took the page; looked over the information. Her heart grew heavy at the numbers.

"So many." She fought the urge to cry. "They are trained as well as you and I." She shook her head. "Why, Connor? I am tired of seeing these numbers. I am not a goddess. If I were I would not loose this many men in a single day. If I had the power, i would go down there myselfl and kill them all. Spare my army the burden of losing their friends, their own lives."

"I do no know." He said gently. His voice carried the emotion she was not allowed to show.

She closed a fist around the parchment. "I will see to their burial rights."

Connor shot her a look, "Brenhines?"

"They were my men, Connor. I will see their last moments in this wretched place."

He nodded again, "I will send word to prepare a place for the prayers."

She sighed, "Have you made your plan for tomorrow?"

"I have; we can talk when you are ready."

Rhyfela turned away from him, making her way back toward the camp. Connor followed at her side. They kept the outer edge; so as not to disturb the men. From the camp, music played as voices raised in song.

"Tomorrow will be a real challenge." She muttered, more to herself the Connor.

The queen made her way to the separate area for the injured and dying. Cries of pain and prayers were whispered by the men here. They used their own languages and those they had learned over the years. Calling on any god who would save them. There was no song; no sense of company. Rhysfela stared across the land; so many of them would die before dawn. She had never felt more powerless in her entire life. The fires here were kept low, no one wanted to be reminded of what was here. She saw a few of her men kneeling over the bodies of loved ones. Pain gripped at her heart; she had caused this and it filled her with rage. Come tomorrow she would fight for each of them. She would cut the enemy down and make them share her pain.

Rhysfela paused near one young man. She didn't know his face or his name; but still, she knelt. Coonor stood at her back; silent, watching. The young man was on a bed of wood. Once he died, the bed he lay upon would be his funeral pyre. She studied his face; he was a lad, really. Younger then she was and she was only eighteen.

"Boy," She said gently; she lowered herself a little closer so he could here. "Solider."

The young face was smeared in bloody mud. He opened his eyes. They widened at the sight of his queen. He tried to move; but she held a hand to his arm. He went still; his gaze steady on her face.

"Be still," Her tone was light, gentle. "Tell me your name, lad."

"Ellis, Brenhines."

Rhyfela looked to Connor; he nodded. He would remember the name. She would recite it later at the prayer gathering.

"You fought well, Ellis. I am grateful to your sacrifice today. When Death comes, you may take His hand and go in peace. We will remember you and all you have done."

His face relaxed; his body eased. "Thank you, Mawredd."

Rhyfela stood up as his eyes closed. She knew they would never open again. Her gaze moved to the ground; the countless others. It did not matter how long it took, she would learn their names. She would say them before her men; and each one of them, would remember the fallen. Shemoved on to the next one. Asked his name, of which Connor would remember, and repeated her words. The queen made her way through the hundreds of bodies, speaking to each of them.

The night was old as she stood in the silence around her. Connor had gone to prepare the area for the final prayers. He would issue the order for the men to gather and join their queen. All of them would remember. It took not only the efforts of the living, but those of the dying, to win each battle. Rhyfela was determined to not let any of them die in vain. So far, they hadn't. She'd succeeded where her father and brothers had failed. She had reclaimed more land then any man before her. She led the biggest army of any ruler she knew of. And all before she was twenty years old; instead of making her proud, it made her sad.

She became aware of being watched. Silently she gripped her sword hilt; looking around at the darkness. It was too dark for her to see anything; but the sense of being watched did not leave her.

"I will not be afraid of you," She clearly, speaking to the darkness. "If it is Death who watches me now, I will not leave this world yet. I have much to do. Tonight, I am alive and you will not take that from me."

The softest of whispers came to her; a child's voice that carried ages of life behind it. The accent was heavy, he spoke many languages. This is what Death should sound like. Innocent but ancient.

"You will not die tonight. But I will come for you eventually."

Just as suddenly as it had come, the feeling of company left her. She was once again alone in the darkness. She sighed, keeping her hand on her sword hilt. The words of Death kept turning around her mind. She knew it had been Death who spoke to her. And she knew, as surely as there would be sunrise, she would meet him soon enough. It should have frieghtened her; but it did not. She was tired at her age. So many things had been lost to her in such a short time. Her father's death, although not unexpected was painful. Then the murders of her brothers left her reeling.

She had taken over the throne of her father before she was even a woman. She was crowned at 13 years of age. There had been no time for her to be young. At first her council had demanded she marry; she was young and needed to give an heir. She had agreed with them, if only to appease their demands. None of the men they presented were worth anything to her. All of them were pampered princes; seeking their own thrones. She would not give her throne to any man. She would not give her heart to any man for that matter.

Eventually the council had tried to displace her. At first they had sent assassins; all of them failed. She had killed them all. She may have been young in years but she was not a fool. There was nothing young in her soul. There was no child in her mind. They followed it with plans to take her throne by force. And that had cost them their lives; and the lives of their families. Not one traitorous was left beating. She had been present at each execution. There had been no trial. She was the law of this land. No one questioned her. They knew to do would lead to their death. It was quickly obvious who her friends were. Those that were good to her; she rewarded, richcly.

Her hand ruled with a bloody sword; but her heart was good. She knew what it cost her men to stand with her. So she gave back to them. She gave what she could to show thanks for their loyalty. It wasn't just her army she was generous with; she gave to her people too. A queen did not riches to be powerful. They needed only strength and wits. Both of which she had in abundance.

Turning away from the quiet; Rhyselfa headed back through the camp. Her men were gathering; she had prayers to say.

Sparks leapt into the air; smoke curled into the dark sky. The flames had engulfed the bodies of her dead soldiers. Rhyfela stood nearest the flames; all five thousand of her men were gathered around. Those near the back would not hear her words. But that did not matter; it was their presence that mattered.

Her voice carried in the darkness as she read the list of names. Too many, far too many. But she kept reading. When she reached the last one; she tossed the paper into the flames. It curled up in the flames; burning black and falling to ash.

"We gather tonight in memory of those who are not with us." She said, tears in her eyes, "We remember them and we thank them. Tonight we stay to them: You will not have died in vain. We stand strong because you stood with us. We are still here and wish you were as well. The call to return to whence we come is not easy to ignore. We pray to all the souls who leave tonight: That you go in peace, rest in calm and remember we shall meet again."

Connor shouted an order and there was a great sound of motion. The men stood at attention. He shouted another order and they dissembled. Rhyfela and Connor stood at the edge of the great pyre.

"The hour is late, Brenhines." He spoke gently, "You have not rested since last dawn."

She shook her head, "Sleep is for those who have good dreams, Connor. That is not me. Come, we will work through our plans."

Connor followed her back to her tent. Rhyfela sat on one of the stools around the table. He sat across from her. A call for entry interrupted their planning; she allowed it. Gryf and William stepped in, bowing. She was pleased at the surprise.

The three generals and their queen sat before the large table. The camp was quiet as the men rested. They talked for hours; deciding on plans for the coming battle. The generals left their queen just before dawn. She did not rest; instead she sat in her private tent; watching as her servants slept. She had never slept as well as they did. A part of her envied their simple lives. It was on nights like this that she longed to be released from her position. To turn away from the campaign and return home. She had not seen her palace in more years then she ever lived there. There was no memory of even what it looked like. Her life had been the battlefield. Her education had been by the sword; by the shield and by fighting.

It was also on nights like this she longed for a lover. She had taken only one in her youth; but had quickly grown bored of him. There had not been another.

The first song of dawn filled the cold air and she wished for strong arms around her. She wished for another life.

Had she known that wishes come true; she would have more careful with her choices. For this was the last dawn she was ever to see. The last day anyone would ever call her Brinhines, this dawn was her last as Rhyfela, warrior-queen.

That night, as the battle raged on, she fell before Death. His face was that of a beautiful boy. He was an angel; sent to carry her into the afterlife. Only he didn't offer her this release. Instead, he gave her a new life.

Lovisa.

Rhyfela looked up from the bloody ground where she knelt. The last of her life leaving her aching body.

Lovisa, come home to me. Godric's voice reached her.

She stood to her feet. She rose from the earth as a companion of Death. Death that wore a child's face. No, not Death, her beloved father.

Godric? She called out to him; the past fell away as she struggled to return to him.

End of dream sequence

**

Within Lennie's bedroom at the apartment, Godric opened his eyes. He had heard her voice respond to him. He watched her face. It took several long moments before her eyelids twitched. Even longer before she squeezed his hand.

She smiled weakly; her gaze settled on her Maker. "I heard you calling me."

He returned the smile, I know."

"I can't leave until you release me." She whispered softly.

Godric leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Welcome home, Lovisa."

He sat back from her; their gazes met. "Godric, thank you for chosing me."

His smile was tender; loving. "It is you who chose me, I think."

Her eyes fluttered shut as she smiled. "I think we chose each other."

"Yes, I think you're right." Godric smoothed a hand through her black hair. "Do not leave me like that again. I have never feared losing you, until last night. I cannot take it."

Her eyes opened at his words; his voice carried true fear. She'd never, not once in nine-hundred-ninty-six years, heard fear in her Maker's voice. "I am sorry I worried you."

He met her eyes; his blue eyes were shadowed with very human emotions. "You're one of the reasons I live."

Lennie nodded, "I know. And you are my only reason."

Godric cupped her cheek in one hand. He was silent as he studied her face. Within her mind he could feel her love for him. Her relief that she had returned.

"Did you not see Heaven, Lovisa?"

She slowly shook her head, "I saw Hell."

His eyes darkened with understanding. "You're final days."

She nodded; red tears rimmed her eyes. She thought back to her last humans days; but also the night of her seige on the castle. It wasn't until now she realized how similar they had been. Perhaps that is why she had fled.

"If you had not saved me; I would not have left that field."

Godric kissed her cheek. "I could not have allowed that."

Bloody tears tumbled from her dark green eyes. "I am sorry, Godric. I am sorry I failed."

He shook his head, "You did no such thing. We have the computer. Plans are being made."

She closed her eyes for a moment, "Who planned it?"

"Queen Sophie-Ann."

Lennie opened her eyes, anger clouded her expression. "We have to kill her."

Godric smiled gently, "We will; but you will rest. There is much for you to do."

She realized he was right. "As my Maker commands, so will I do."

He kissed her cheek again, "Eric has been blaming himself. It would be best if you spoke to him."

She nodded, "I would like that."

"Eric." Godric called.

Eric blurred into the room; standing beside his Maker. The Viking looked to the bed and was never so happy to see her eyes look at him. He threw himself across her feet; clucthing at any part of her that he could. Red tears stained the blanket.

"Eric, come here." She said weakly, "I can't reach you down there."

"Lennie!" He rested his head on his chest. "Thank the gods. I could not bare the thought of losing you. It's too much."

"I missed you too." She smoothed her hands through his short blonde hair.

He looked up at her; red tracks marred his pale beauty. "I will never ask you to do another thing for me."

"Not one thing?" She asked, her voice teased him.

He gave a rough chuckle, "Well, perhaps I will ask for one thing. As I know how much you enjoy it."

She laughed lightly, "We both do."

He buried his head in the blankets across her stomach. The next words he said were in Old Swedish.

Despite her centuries with them; that was a language she had nver learned. She glanced at her Maker for translations. He only smiled; and this time it reached his eyes. His face was young and he seemed to glow with light. She smiled back; her eyes drifting shut again. This time, when she fell into sleep, there were no dreams. Eventually she felt strong arms around her from either side and she felt loved.

Lennie lay in bed with the two men she loved most, beside her. Neither of them spoke; they let the silence fill around them. Eric climbed into bed beside her; wrapping his arms around her. Godric lay on the other side; his fingers ran through her hair. His other arm lay across her stomach; his hand resting on Eric's arm. They all needed comfort right now.

For once words were not enough to express their feelings.

**