AN: Annwyn, or Annwn, or Annuvin, is the place where the ancient Welsh believed they would end up after death. It wasn't a bad place, but where everyone went, and the door was less like a one-way gate and more like, well, a revolving door. There was dancing, and huge banquet tables groaning under the weight of all the food. Now no one much believes in it anymore, save a few modern 'druids' who keep hoping that the door will open up again. The story of the Wild Hunt is one of my favorite stories, and I admit that some nights I lean out the window to listen for the wild baying of the hounds.
"So how does one, theoretically, get to the Welsh Netherworld?" Lydia was getting used to the curveballs.
Oshun answered after a long drink of tea. "Annwyn. It's de same distance from everyt'ing else in de Netherworld. A 'op. A jump. A leap. But to me, it is a place I cannot go. De spirits of Nigeria an' de spirits of Wales, we can only meet on neutral groun'."
"Switzerland?"
Juno laughed. "Only places with no established Netherworld- there are a few places. Antarctica. New York City. London. Mostly cities, where people have brought their traditions together, and the mix prevents any one system from being established over another. Switzerland might be neutral in the world of the Living..."
"But definitely not in dis world. Gwyn an' Bertolt do not get along. At all." She stood then, and collected the empty tea cups. She smiled at Lydia, sad again. "You will 'ave to go alone. We cannot come with you."
"But how do I get there?" Lydia stood too, a little scared, and a little mad. "And how do I call Beej, if I can't say his real name?"
Juno was still sitting, hunched around her cigarette, and she appeared even craggier than normal. "To get there, you have to find the Wild Hunt. Or rather, it has to find you. And when you do, you have to convince Gwyn to call his son, and then to Rechristen him. And Gwyn won't want to do it, I guarantee you that. Convincing him will be a real job."
"Why, if he's Beej's father, and he's in such trouble?"
"His adoptive father. Lydia, do you remember dat I told you Ba'u alienated all 'is allies?" Lydia nodded. "Well, Ba'u stole Gwyn's best 'orse- 'e claims 'e was out for a 'joyride' an' planned to return it..."
"But he got Called to China, I think it was," continued Juno. "And the horse got stuck between worlds- ended up as a painting on a bit of plain silk on a wall. And, well, he couldn't free it."
"Dat was de end of Gwyn's finest horse. An' de end of their relationship." Oshun shrugged. It is always so with 'im." Juno shot her a sharp look, and Oshun pursed her lips. "Alt'ough in your case, I'm sure it will work out." She didn't even try to sound sincere, and turned without another word and began to clean up her kitchen.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Oshun, but we must be going!" Juno shouted, taking the near-nonresponsive Lydia by the shoulders and dragging her out the door. They stepped out into the bright sunlight, and the world spun into dark, smoky coolness. They were back in Juno's office. Juno sat Lydia down in a chair and then perched herself on her desk. Lydia felt faintly nauseous. "I never did like that woman. Too full of herself. Being worshiped can really ruin your sense of perspective. She used to be a sweet girl."
"Juno?" Lydia's voice was quiet. Juno sighed, and lit another cigarette before she nodded at Lydia to continue. "Is Oshun right about him? That he never stays anywhere long?"
"Well, what did you expect?" Juno was exasperated, although as gently as she could be. Her sympathy was rusted from long years of disuse. "You think he was going to stick around and watch you get old? And why would you want him to? Don't you want a family? Children? A real life? Whatever that means to you... he can't provide that." She fell silent, irritated at herself for not being able to come up with a convincing lie.
Lydia chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, a mannerism Juno recognized. The she nodded, and shrugged. "I don't know what I want, but I do know I want to be able to punch him in the face if he breaks my heart." She tried out a smile, and found it easier than she though.
Juno grinned at her. "If he ever does break your heart, I'll help!" Their eyes met, and a determined feeling formed up between them.
"So what do I have to do?" She squared her shoulders. Juno stood up and wiper her hands on the skirt of her suit.
"You know the legend of the Wild Hunt?" Lydia nodded hesitantly. "Then, all you have to do is be brave enough to look. The rest of it is up to you." Without waiting for any more questions, she took Lydia's hands, and the world spun again, and turned green.
Betelgeuse was alone in his little cell again. Barnabas, that loathsome, ill-bred, vomitous whoreson of a maggot had left him to simmer while he 'prepared for the great event' or some such idiocy. Betelgeuse paced , pressing the reaches of his power and coming up short against his own skin. He wasn't worried as much as angry; no one had him at a disadvantage and got away with it.
To be perfectly honest with himself, which was a rare event, he had never expected to fall for Lydia in the first place. But somehow, while he was hanging out annoying her, he began to find her company more pleasant than his own. And then he had wanted to be with her, intimately, and the warmth of her body had seeped into him, and he liked the feeling of being warm. For some reason, she had not only tolerated him, but even loved him. He didn't know if he was capable of love. Love was for the Living. Love meant mutual dependence and Saturday night movies and babies and diapers and... all of that.
This was not helping! Forcing all self-pity into a little dark corner of his psyche, he tried to think. He needed a plan, and he needed a beer. And not necessarily in that order.