My story or rather, an excerpt of it begins on the same day that Diarmait's, my father, ended. Outside, it was snowing, and a blustery wind whirled fleeting snowflakes through the dim, but luminescent moonlight. I was making my way to my mother's chambers, to help her prepare for bed. The torch lights had long since blown out, ad my thin cloak was failing to protect me from the cold. Shivering, I kindly nodded at each guard as I passed and each nod was returned with a bow. People were still bustling about the courtyard, even though it had been many hours since the sun had set. As I walked, I listened to the almost-silence that surrounded me, and I was calm and at peace with the world.

That peace, however, was fragile and easily broken. Suddenly, three riders burst through the fort gates, cantering hastily towards the castle doors. I recognised the men to be three of my father's men, and I was alarmed by their appearance. One had the beginnings of a black eye, and many scratches on his face. One bore a nasty burn on his upper cheek, and seemed to be missing a part of his scalp. I watched the last dismount, and noticed he had a terrible limp, probably because his leg appeared to be turned in a different direction to the one it normally faced. He had a slash in his tunic and a stream of red liquid flowed from this gap.

Shocked, I steadily approached the three, immediately begin to think of spells that could help and heal the men. Only when I was in breathing distance of the nearest of their horses did I notice a fourth man, lying on his stomach across the front of one saddle. This man was in the worst shape, by far. His entire form seemed broken, his limbs limp and arranged in different patterns. The back of his skull was caved in, and a pool of blood had developed on the floor beneath his head. The guards must have realised who he was before I did, because at once, they all rushed towards me, some assisting the weary and injured riders, some formed a protective stance in front of me, and some began to lift the poor man off the horse.

Immediately, I noticed his glassy blue eyes, which led me to gaze at his hair, which had previously been a glossy red, but had now been turned a murky brown by the blood, and in turn towards his pale skin, now swollen and bruise covered. The thing that finally clued me in was the druidic symbol that hung around his neck on a chain, and I soon heard a blood-curdling scream. Only later did I realise it was my own. I then broke down in sobs at the sight of my father's near-unrecognizable, undeniably dead corpse.

The next few minutes are mostly a blur, of which only a brief and confused account I can give. I felt myself being hoisted from the ground (I must have fallen), and being rushed somewhere.

I passed wall after stony wall, and suddenly found myself in my father's court room, where sat my brothers, Colman Már and Áed, my father's wives, Mugain, Eithne, Brea and Be Binn, and a number of the court including my father's most trusted advisors, and two of the court druids, Ciallmhar and Críonna. I was sat in a chair near my father's throne and felt, rather than saw, my mother enter the room.

My mother is one of those women who just exude power. You can feel it before she even enters the room. I don't know whether this is because of her wise and leader-like personality, or because of her magic. She still managed to appear calm and in control, even when wearing nothing but her nightclothes, and having obviously been rushed out of bed. She did not wait for me to help her get ready for sleep, it seemed.

She approached me and began to run her fingers through my hair softly as the least injured of the three men who had been with my father recounted his tale.

On an annual journey around Eriú, which father had only just started, my father and his three men came to the hall of Banbán at Ráith Bec. Because my mother had refused to go, Banbán offered his daughter to my father for the night. (All the women in the room visibly stiffened at this.) He also gave my father a flax nightshirt, ale and pork. I heard Ciallmhar murmur in astonishment, "The prophecy."

I spoke up at this, "What prophecy?" I asked my throat dry from my keening.

Ciallmhar looked uncomfortable, before he hesitantly began to answer. "You have been told of Bec mac Dé?"

I shook my head. He frowned. "But that is an essential part of your studies in sorcery. What are they teaching these-?"

"Now is not the time, Ciallmhar." Mother interrupted his complaint, with a cold, but controlled look on her face.

A pained expression took over Ciallmhar. "My apologies, mo Bhanríon. As I was saying, Banphrionsa, Bec mac Dé was a powerful sorcerer, and the greatest seer to be found on this isle, if not of all time. He could speak with nine men at once and answer all their questions with one reply, and his prophecies were never wrong. Bec prophesised that your father, An Ard Rí, would die a threefold death; He would be drowned, burned, and have his head crushed by a roof beam, by Áed Dub mac Suibni, in the house of Banbán, on a night he wore a shirt grown from a single flax seed, drank ale brewed from a single grain of corn, and ate pork from a sow that had never farrowed."

"But how do you that my father's death was anything to do with this prophecy?"

"Well, it would be a very large coincidence if your father died in the home of Banbán on the one night he wore a shirt of flax, drank ale and ate pork."

"But he does that every ni-!"

"No, he does not! A Shoilse wore clothes made from the finest sheep's wool, drank mead and ate beef from one of his many prize cows every night."

"Does any of this matter?" My mother screeched, halting our argument. "My husband, our king, is dead, and our children have lost their father, and you two our bickering about what he used to nightly before he- he die-!"

Mother began to break down in tears, and Mugain, my father's chief wife after my mother approached and began to console, holding her in her embrace while tears silently made their way down her own face. At any other time, I would have been stunned by this, for my mother and Mugain often disagreed and glared daggers at each other.

"Why don't we settle this disagreement," Críonna suggested, her voice as soft as a lamb's coat, "Pól, how did Diarmait die?"

Pól, the youngest of the three men, looked warily at my mother through one dark grey eyes, his other was now nothing but a red angry looking bruise. "I do not think a description of the death of a Shoilse would be the best thing to do right now. I do not wish to disturb any of the women and children in this room."

Áed, my eldest brother stood up from his seat and placed a tentative hand on Pól's shoulder, looking afraid that it might break off. "Pól, we need to know. For father's sake."

Pól once more looked in my mother's direction, and she gave a brisk nod, somewhat calm again. He took a breath and continued the story from where his commander had left off.

"A Shoilse went to bed, after dinner. About an hour afterwards, he rushed back to us, speaking of a prophecy," Ciallmhar's eyes gleamed triumphantly. "Seconds after this, chaos ensued. Men began to stream through the door, dozens of them, and Diarmait tried to escape through an adjoining door, while we held the men off. But Aed Dub stood in the doorway, with a spear in his hand, and a fearsome smile upon his face. He-he stabbed the king, and would have finished him off if an Ard Rí had not reacted by slamming the door in his path. Then Áed Dub's men to set the house alight. A Shoilse tried to hide, for he could not fight without his sword, in a vat of ale, but the flames had acted fast in weakening the structure of Banbán's home and a roof beam…. A roof beam fell upon his head, killing him instantly."

My mother's sobs began again, and my father's wives along with my brothers bore not a dry eye. Silence fell, and not a sound was heard for many minutes until Colmán Bec ran into the room excitedly.

He leapt into his mother Brea's arms and asked loudly, "An bhfuil aonach ag súil taobh amuigh?"

"Níl," Brea answered, confused. "Cén fath?"

"Chuala mé a lán de torann."

Hearing this, Áed sent two guards to check outside. Minutes later, we heard the screams.

I thought I might as well out up chapter 2 seeing as it's done.

Notes:

An bhfuil aonach ag súil taobh amuigh? = Is there a fair going on outside?

Níl = No

Cén fath? = Why?

Chuala mé a lán de torann = I heard a lot of noise

A Shoilse = His majesty

Mo Bhanríon = My queen

An Ard Rí = the High King

Banphrionsa = Princess

If I failed to spot any words that need translating, just leave a review, or PM me! :)

CaChrisSo