Caer Hud
Gwydion’s Lair
The next morning, Fiona awoke with a sense that something was different. She immediately realized she was in Gwydion’s room, in his bed. She could feel him, smell his earthy, slightly musky scent—harsh, unusual, hard to describe, yet somehow pleasant and captivating at the same time, just like Gwydion himself. She felt she was laying on something and just knew it was his arm. Turning her head, she saw him, his healthy arm towards her, her head resting on it, a peaceful expression on his face as he slept.
With a confused look, Fiona stared up at the ceiling. So, this really happened. They had started on the bear—pardon, wolf—skin, and moved the passion play into his room until they both passed out, completely exhausted. And this time, there was no alcohol involved, at least not on her part, and he didn’t force it. This had been very much mutual. This had not been to fulfill some pact, this had been fulfilling her needs, wants. Hmm.
Careful not to wake him, she rolled towards the edge of the bed. She halted briefly and stayed absolutely still when he stirred with a displeased grunt but didn’t wake up. Her feet hit the icy stone floors, sending a chill up her spine. She glanced around for the bathing chamber, only to recall that his bedchamber didn’t have one. Only hers had that seemingly ultimate luxury. She sighed and made her way to her own chamber, where at least she would have some privacy. As she closed the door behind herself, she rolled her eyes and let out a groan. “Argh,” she muttered, glaring at the chamber pot in the corner.
She completed her morning routine as best she could, then stepped to the closet. She let out another “Argh!” at the sight of her collection of medieval dresses. Angrily, she snatched one off its hanger, grumbling in a fake Oxford accent, “Oh, how about a spot of tea and some crumpets, my love.” As she turned around, she suddenly let out a short, high-pitched shriek, dropping the dress in shock. Gwydion was standing there, holding a package wrapped in tapestry-like fabric, tied with a silken red ribbon, bowing slightly.
“Apologies for startling thee, it was far from mine intent,” Gwydion said, his voice soft and sincere.
Fiona rolled her eyes, letting out a relieved breath. “Yeah, I figured, but we’re both lucky I already went pee or we’d be standing in a puddle now. What’s this?” She eyed the package in his hands.
“A gift, My Fair Maiden, hopefully it shall steer thee away from such terrifying topics as thy morning ablutions,” he replied, holding out the package.
Accepting the package from him with a smirk, she purposely nudged him as she turned to pass him, heading towards the bed to open it. “Says the gentleman who pissed right in front of me?”
Grinning, he turned and walked with her. “But only once, My Lady Fair. Once thee alerted me that it was not acceptable to thee, I have not repeated the habit.”
Smiling, Fiona unwrapped the gift, her eyes widening in surprise. She stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Gwydion, who was now standing next to her.
“Real clothing! MY clothes! Oh my God! Can I wear them?” she asked excitedly, holding up a pair of white skinny pants, a black and white striped blouse, and light beige high-heeled boots. The familiar fabrics felt like a lifeline back to her world.
Gwydion took in the sight of the modern garments with a mix of curiosity and bemusement. “I have no such plans for them myself, so why not?” he replied with a chuckle, his eyes lingering on the vibrant colors and contemporary styles.
Squealing excitedly, she jumped at him, hugging him and kissing his cheek. He winced and groaned in pain, reminding her of his injuries. Fiona let go, feeling guilty. “Oh no! I am so sorry. I forgot you’re still healing.”
“‘Tis nothing,” he assured her, waving it off. His eyes softened as he watched her delight. “I shall leave thee to get dressed. Wilt thou join me for breakfast?”
“Yeah, sure,” she agreed, a smile returning to her face.
When she walked into the dining room, Gwydion was already seated, staring at her in her modern-day clothing. Though he often found modern attire to be unbecoming and preferred the elegance of medieval garments, he couldn’t help but marvel at how the white skinny pants accentuated her figure. The black and white striped blouse brought out the cool tones of her purplish-blue eyes, making them stand out even more, while the boots rounded off the look, all of it highlighting her silvery blond hair. Yet, he said nothing, simply taking in the sight with a begrudging appreciation.
After the meal, he offered her his healthy arm. “Wilt thou care to join me for a walk?” he asked, his tone warm.
“A walk? Like … outside?” she asked, surprised.
“It would seem rather silly to attempt it indoors, would it not?” he replied with a hint of amusement.
“Holy shit, I must be an extremely great lay! First real clothing and now sweet liberty? Let’s go!” she exclaimed.
He just chuckled. They walked, and Fiona decided to tempt her luck by asking questions, which, much to her surprise, he answered. She had fun until they arrived at the portal she had once escaped by. Her head snapped to Gwydion, wondering if now he would make her pay for her escape. It would be like him. Any pleasant moments with him had been fleeting, soon replaced by others, ranging vastly in their level of unpleasantness.
But his face remained relaxed as he now led her straight up to it.
“I trust I need not explain its function?” he said.
“No, it’s a portal to my world,” she replied.
“Thy world? This, my dear, is also thy world. Where didst thou think thou wert?” he asked.
“This is Earth? Like regular earth, not some parallel universe or realm? Some other dimension,” she asked, incredulous.
He laughed, aggravating his abdominal injury, making him wince. “No, My Lady Fair, ’tis thy same world. But the realm thou findest thyself in is sustained by mine magic. The ancient enchantments I wield create an immersive medieval experience for those within my domain. The servants and surroundings are reflections of that age due to powerful, sustained illusions and enchantments. This archaic atmosphere is deliberate, to maintain an environment that reflects my origins and the era of my greatest power and that of the other residents here, many of them ancient and magic as well.”
“So, everything around me is an illusion?” she asked, trying to wrap her head around it.
“It is home. To me. I share thy disdain for things unfamiliar to me and feel the same about thy fashion as thou dost about mine. So, I made it more to mine liking,” he explained.
“Ha, clearly once you leaf through a Victoria’s Secret catalog you’ll change your mind about modern clothing. Trust me, lingerie… you know chemises and pantaloons and such, have come a very long way. They are very pleasant to look at in my time,” she teased.
“We are in thy time. Always have been,” he said, smiling.
“Oh, yeah, right. Wait, but the servants? Are they like paid actors or something?” she asked, still puzzled.
“Like all others, it is but an illusion, crafted to feel like home to me and the other arcane brethren dwelling here,” Gwydion replied.
“Okay. Wow. When they said you were powerful I didn’t think it meant you can alter entire regions. Anyway, so, this gate leads to Glimmerbrook, but where are we then?” she asked.
“The portal doth lead anywhere the one activating it desires to go. We are in Galarwybr or Mourningvale in thy speak, which is a remote village near Ravenwood,” he explained.
“You are shitting me! Ravenwood borders Forgotten Hollow, where I currently live after moving back in with my parents, and Windenburg, where I used to live with my ex. So, we were practically neighbors all my life?! And my family is just a few hundred miles away, that’s it? You can’t make this shit up!” she exclaimed.
“I need thee to remember something. I wrote it down for thee, not in the proper manner, but as it is spoken, as it is rather lengthy, hard to remember, even harder to pronounce. Once thou master this, thou can travel on thy own. Thou shalt no longer feel a prisoner, for thou hast never been one. Thou camest here by choice, and remain by choice, to fulfill an agreement. But I need thee to promise me thou wilt return to me,” he said, handing her a piece of paper.
Taking the paper he handed her, their fingers touching, Fiona swore she was dreaming. It felt real though. “You really mean it?” Fiona stared at him with wide eyes.
“Aye. Thou showed me great kindness, and thou hast placed trust in me; it would be terrible manners not to offer the same in return. The paper thou art holding has writing in a special ink which only thou can see,” he explained.
“You’re giving me the keys? What about those magical perimeters you always place?” she wondered.
“Those shall be no more. I thought much about our exchanges, especially the fiery ones, and realized I fell prey to vanity and bigotry, accusing thee of breaking a contract thou willingly entered, freely, while treating thee as a prisoner, which thou never were intended to be. Thou may now pass freely and come and go as thou wish. As long as thou return. I am still holding thee to the terms. Thou must return,” he said, his tone serious.
“Okay, let’s go! Have you ever had gelato? I have mad cravings for it. Oh wait, have you ever had coffee? Oh my God, you will forget that ale, especially with breakfast. I really miss coffee. I’ll start you on a latte, in case the coffee taste is a bit much at first… oh and…” she began, excitedly.
He stopped her with a finger on her lips, shaking his head. “Not me. Thou go. I will teach thee how to select thy destination, it’s not accurate until thou art well trained, but it will get thee nearby and I have no doubt thou can find thy way. And I will instruct thee what to look for to find a spot from which thou can return. It is all on that paper.”
“I can go… home?” she asked, hardly daring to believe it.
Gwydion nodded. “Yes, thou may go home, but I urge thee to return. I am not releasing thee from thy vow, only from thy perceived shackles.”
With trembling hands, Fiona took the paper and studied the instructions. She had to concentrate on her intended destination and repeat the incantation exactly as written. Taking a deep breath, she did as the paper and Gwydion’s voice instructed, feeling a tingling sensation envelop her. Then suddenly the portal illuminated brightly, the same humming sounds she observed the first time happened and the blurs of colors pulsating before her. She looked at Gwydion, who nodded, so she took a step forward. She was pulled in again, experienced the same as last time.
The world around her shimmered and blurred. Suddenly, she found herself tumbling through a dense thicket of shrubs. Branches scratched at her skin and leaves tangled in her hair. Finally, she landed with a soft thud just inches from a puddle of mud, startling two black horses in an open-sided stall. The horses backed away, snorting nervously, their eyes wide with surprise. Disoriented, Fiona blinked and tried to catch her breath. She noticed two lower-level vampire stable workers staring at her as if she were a mirage.
“Who in the blazes goes there?” a voice demanded from behind them, pushing the workers aside.
Fiona’s head snapped up to see Riordan, Cesare’s nephew and right hand, standing there with a puzzled look, his face the epitome of bewilderment. His long brown hair was tied in a ponytail, and he wore dark, elegant clothing that made him look like he had stepped out of a Renaissance painting, though his style was hard to place in any specific era.
“Oh wow, I did do it right. This is Forgotten Hollow, holy shit, it worked! Uh, surpriiiiiise? Hi, Ri.” Fiona said, brushing hay from her hair.
Forgotten Hollow
Riordan and Lavinia Hargrave’s home
Riordan’s eyes widened. “Fiona? What are you doing here? How did you get in the stables? Have you escaped the mage again? Are you hiding? Not smart, these horses are mellow but could trample you if startled like this,” he wondered, stepping closer. He helped her up and hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head while guiding her out of the stall. A stable attendant handed him a towel, which he gave to Fiona. She wiped the dirt from her hands as Riordan plucked pieces of hay from her hair.
“He let me go, Riordan. Only for a visit. He’s still holding us all to the agreement, but he let me go see all of you. No offense, but I wanna go home! I wanna see Mom and Dad and Damon. And a real shower and my closet, and I will literally hug the toilet and the sink! I promise I will come by here and to the castle later to see all of you too.”
“Good God, girl! Are you all right? You appear to be well. Amazingly so,” Riordan said, his voice filled with concern and surprise.
“I am good. Pretty good actually, I mean, all things considered. He isn’t so bad at all, Ri. It’s all seriously retro with him, including the way he speaks, making him really hard to understand sometimes, but I am dealing. Still am probably going to drain all the water in Forgotten Hollow with the length of a shower I am going to take, and I will probably just flush the toilet a few dozen times ’cause I can. I have never appreciated indoor plumbing this much.”
Riordan cracked a smile, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, “Let me walk you home, while you tell me all about your stay with the mage.”
The moment she stepped through the front door at home, she was greeted with cries of joy and hugs from her parents and brother.
“Fiona! Sweet angel! You’re back! We were so worried!” her mother, Emmy, exclaimed, tears glistening in her youthful eyes. Despite her delicate features and lively spirit, her true age was hidden behind her vampiric elegance.
Her father, Connell, stood silently, his long, blonde hair styled in intricate braids. He fought to maintain his composure, his strong features betraying the depth of his emotions. Connell barely managed to say anything, his jaw clenched, eyes misty as he pulled Fiona into a gentle but firm embrace.
“I missed you all so much,” Fiona replied, holding them all close, feeling the warmth of their presence.
Damon, who bore a striking resemblance to their father but with shorter hair and a modern haircut, grinned mischievously. “Aww, and I almost had Mom and Dad convinced to give me your room…” he joked, his eyes twinkling with playful affection. Taller and stronger than Fiona, Damon wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a brotherly kiss on the top of her head.
They moved to sit somewhere more comfortable, gathering in the living room. As they settled, Fiona began to recount her adventure, the trials and surprises she faced while living with Gwydion. Her family’s eyes were glued to her, hanging on every word.
“And then, get this,” she said, pausing dramatically, “he let me go! Just for a visit, but still. He literally gave me the keys to the car, so to say. I can see you again, as much as I like.” Her voice was filled with both disbelief and relief.
Damon laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you managed to talk that dangerous mage into submission. Then again, wait, I grew up with you … so, never mind. When we were little, you and Jaymie’s way of batting your eyes and pouting to get out of trouble made me wish I were a girl too.” He nudged her playfully with his elbow.
Fiona giggled and swatted his arm. “Well, there are ways to make that happen. Give me one of your fancy knives, and I’ll fix you right up!”
“Too late, I am way too attached – pun intended – to what I got now. Plus, honestly, after the shit you are having to go through, I am glad I am not a woman. They always tell us growing up that being an occult means many things will be different from all the mortal friends, and it’s true, but man, you just never know what gets thrown your way. One sister married to a werewolf, the other messing around with some mage,…”
“I’ll show you messing around!” she says messing up his hair with both hands till he pushed her off himself, both laughing.
They continued to tease each other, Damon poking her side, and Fiona swatting back, laughing and enjoying the lighthearted moment. The sibling banter was a comforting return to normalcy.
As Fiona prepared to continue her story, she suddenly stopped and looked around. “Wait, can someone please make me a coffee? I have missed it so much. I feel like I haven’t had a decent cup in forever.”
Emmy chuckled, rising from her seat. “Of course, sweetie. I’ll make you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”
Connell stood up, a determined look on his face. “I’ll go fetch Jaymie. She needs to be here for this.” With that, he ported away, returning moments later with Jaymie in tow. Jaymie, at 25 the oldest of the three siblings, with her striking resemblance to Emmy but with a more edgy clothing style, looked around in surprise before rushing to hug Fiona.
“Fiona! I can’t believe you’re here!” Jaymie exclaimed, her voice filled with joy.
They all sat together, the family reunited. As they settled in, Jaymie couldn’t help but bring up one of the more hush-hush topics. “So, how’s all that going? Living with that weird guy. What’s he like in the sack?” she asked with a mischievous grin.
Connell immediately stood up, grumbling like a concerned father. “I don’t want to hear ANYTHING about what that pig might be doing with my little girl!” He stormed out of the room, leaving the siblings and their mother to their conversation.
Damon, on the other hand, stayed put, his curiosity piqued. “Yeah, spill the tea, Fiona. What’s it like with him?”
Fiona blushed, but decided to be honest. “Well, it started off really awkward. The first nights there, he just came to my room, performed the act, and I just laid there letting it happen. But over time, I don’t know, things changed and it’s kind of mutual now. It’s not bad. Definitely not as bad as I thought it would be.”
Jaymie raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s he like? I bet he’s really hairy! Does he do any magic while you are at it?”
Damon nudged her “I think you’re projecting here, JayJay. She’s not the one doing the wolf, sis. That would be you with the really hairy dude. Do you have to brush out Nathan every time after you got busy?”
While Jaymie and Damon playwrestled, Fiona thought for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips. “No. He’s got this thick Welsh accent that’s kind of sexy. And he’s got these funny quirks, like how he insists on using old-fashioned words even when he’s trying to be romantic. It’s cute in a weird way. I mean, at first he was a total ass, rude and crude and clearly didn’t give a shit, but he’s … changed. He’s still not someone I could take to a party with my friends, OMG, no, but he’s …. kinda … ya know.”
Jaymie laughed. “Yeah, I get it. You’re living out your tall, dark, handsome and dangerous fantasies. If I were you, I’d be on birth control! I mean, I know that is like the one reason you are there, but who wants that, with that guy, am I right? I mean, this is coming from someone who knows.”
“Yeah, like who wants their older sister have a kid with a mage, right? Then again, could be worse, like, say a werewolf, am I right?” Damon said, dodging Jaymie’s following assaults, ending with her having her younger brother in a sleeper hold until Emmy called them to order, pulling her oldest daughter into her lap and away from Damon.
“She is right though, I mean, I am just not sure this deal is something this family can handle. When Nathan knocked Jaymie up at 17, your daddy and I thought we failed as parents, sorry Jaymie, and then with a werewolf. I mean, considering your father’s position as coven enforcer, knowing even then that Damon would likely follow in his footsteps, being the grandparents to a wolf was not easy to deal with. We already got those looks because of your father’s friendship with Nathan’s dad. I adore Michael, but I have to say, it is complex. Now, you know we love you and Nate and little Vinnie, but it does add a seriously layer of complexity to being a family and now we are facing the same scenario with that mage. Knowing if you do become a mother, we would never be grandparents to that child? I mean, that baby would be my grandbaby too. I just don’t know if daddy and I can handle that, and I am almost certain you can’t, Fi. Maybe Jaymie is right. You seem to enjoy that … act … with him, I get that, you are a young woman and that is very normal, so why not enjoy it until he tires of waiting and maybe just sends you back permanently. Sounds like you have him wrapped around your little finger, you little charmer, so he won’t hurt you.” Emmy leaned over and kissed Fiona’s cheek, who was trying to process everything, when Damon leaned in.
“Umm, cool plan, Mom and Jaymie, but yeah, how dumb do we think that bro is? He may act all antiquated, but dad and I did a lot of research on him with Grandpa Caelan, Cesare and Riordan, and even Leeora helped with some of the witches’ ancient info on them and I’ll be honest, that fucker scares me. No offense Fi, I can tell you like him, but I wish Grandpa would have finished him off when he had the chance. He is not that stupid, if they keep screwing and nothing ever comes of it, he’s gonna know something’s up. Especially since he already knocked her up once. And sis, I am seriously sorry about your loss, and hate me if you must, but all I can think is ‘phew, bullet dodged’. I don’t want to be an uncle to that fucker’s baby. I mean, yikes! Fi, seriously, that guy has brought down some serious shit throughout the centuries. I am not supposed to talk about it, so just take my word for it.”
Fiona looked down, took a big sip of the coffee, closing her eyes. “Yeah .. I know.”
Connell returned, so they changed the topic, and spent an hour catching up, then Fiona took her long shower using every single body wash, soap, scrub and shampoo she had, put on three different lotions, tried on several of her favorite outfits, before they all went over to Cesare’s castle for an impromptu celebration he put on to welcome his great-granddaughter home, where she shared stories, funny anecdotes and the gradual evolution of her life with the mage, all laughing together. Fiona relished every moment, feeling the warmth and love of her family envelop her.
When she finally let herself fall backwards into her own bed, she kicked her legs happily, sniffed her pillow, rubbed her face in her down blanket, before her eyes set on the waxing moon in the night sky. Her face changed and she said quietly, “Good night, Gwydion. And thank you. Hope you are enjoying your break as much as I am.”
The next day she made the rounds seeing other family, then went shopping with her mom and sister Jaymie, comparing their spoils over coffee.
Caer Hud
Gwydion’s Lair
Back in Gwydion’s realm, the mage felt an overwhelming emptiness in Fiona’s absence. The rooms seemed colder, the air heavier. He wandered aimlessly through the hallways, feeling the weight of solitude pressing down on him. It had been two days since she left. Two very long days, each of which seemed to be much longer than the usual 24 hours.
At first, Gwydion felt a deep sadness, a hollow ache that gnawed at his heart. He roamed the house, hoping to find something to distract himself, but nothing could fill the void left by Fiona’s departure.
When the third day since her departure broke, bitterness crept in. He convinced himself that she would not return, that she had abandoned him. “What a fool I am,” he muttered, staring into the fireplace. “I should have known better than to trust her.”
As the hours passed, Gwydion’s anger grew. He blamed himself for letting her leave, for believing in her promises. He began drinking heavily, the strong liquor burning his throat but doing little to numb his pain.
In a fit of rage, he hurled his goblet across the room, shattering it against the wall. The sound echoed through the empty halls, a stark reminder of his solitude. Gwydion’s breath came in ragged gasps as he looked at the broken pieces, the room spinning around him.
“Why did I let her go?” he screamed, his voice filled with anguish. “I am a fool!”
He staggered to his feet, overturning a table in his path. The crashing sound only fueled his fury, and he grabbed a nearby vase, smashing it against the floor. The shards scattered, a symbol of his shattered heart. Then, everything in his path was thrown, overturned or shattered, by hand and by magic.
As the adrenaline ebbed, Gwydion sank to his knees, tears mingling with the spilled liquor. He was overwhelmed by the fear of losing Fiona, of never seeing her again. The emptiness inside him was unbearable, a black hole consuming him from within.
In his desperation, he tried to stand, but his injuries flared up, causing him to collapse back onto the ground. He screamed in pain and frustration, clutching his side as blood seeped through his bandages, his outburst had torn at the still healing flesh again. The agony of his wounds mirrored the torment in his heart. He allowed himself to sob, kneeling.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Fiona walked in, carrying several bags. Gwydion looked up at her in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. She stared at the mess he had created, the broken furniture, the blood on the floor, and the state he was in.
Dropping her bags, she ran over to him. The mere sight of her not only returning but running towards him when he thought she would run from him made his heart melt. She fell to her knees before him, and they embraced, holding each other tightly.
Fiona looked around at the chaos. “What happened here? Was there a burglar or was this you, or did I miss the party of the century. And you’re bleeding again,” she said, her tone a mix of concern and teasing. “Do you have a nurse fetish or something? I feel a career change coming on, if I have to patch you up this often, might as well study medicine. Maybe this time Aryelle can help me study.”
Gwydion, still in awe that she had returned, could only stare at her like she was a mirage. “You … returned.”
“Well, I said I would, so I did. I was gonna come back yesterday, but my family went nuts with all they wanted to do with me. I went to so many people’s houses to hang, duuuuude. Now, let’s get you fixed up,” she said, pulling away and rising up. She held her hand out to him and helped him to his feet.
Supporting the mage, Fiona led him towards a wooden chair that was lying on its side amidst the chaos. She righted the chair with one hand while still supporting Gwydion with the other, then guided him to sit down.
“Are you drunk? You smell like a distillery! You sure there wasn’t a party here?” she asked, looking around at the broken furniture and scattered debris.
Gwydion managed a weak smile, but his eyes were filled with regret and pain. “Just me… and my demons,” he murmured.
Then, while tending to his wounds, he watched her, his heart swelling with gratitude and relief. As she carefully wrapped fresh bandages around his injuries, he marveled at her gentle touch and unwavering kindness.
When she was done, she told him to stay in his seat while she ran to the shopping bags she had dropped. Digging through several, she finally pulled out something and came back to him, hiding it behind her back with a smile.
“Close your eyes,” she instructed.
Gwydion complied, and when he opened them again, she was holding out a wrapped gift. “For you,” she said, presenting it to him.
He took the gift with disbelief, unwrapping it carefully. Inside was a beautifully crafted, ancient-looking journal, bound in leather with intricate designs.
“A journal. I saw it and immediately thought of you. Now you can jot down all the ways I test your patience. Or, all the places you always vanish to just to get away from me.”
Gwydion was overwhelmed with emotion. Not only had she returned, but she had brought him a thoughtful gift. He said nothing, knowing it was proper to thank her, but the only things he could think were things he wasn’t ready to admit to himself, let alone to anybody else. He just pulled her closer, his healthy arm wrapped tightly around her, the injured one lifted as much as he could, pressing her against him, as he buried his face into her mid-section, fighting for his composure, while she gently stroked his long hair.
When she pulled away, he reluctantly released her. She smirked, then turned to run back to her bags, digging around in several until she rose up with a devious smile. Meanwhile, Gwydion had labored to stand. As she came back to him, she handed him something.
“Some modern-day inspiration for you to peruse while I bring my stuff to my room. Thank me later,” she giggled.
He watched her turn and hurry to her bags, picking up the entire pile. With another smirk and a wink over her shoulder, she disappeared down the hallway. Gwydion stood, dwelling on the fact that she was back. Remembering the booklet she had handed him, he lifted it up, curious.
As he flipped through the pages, his eyes grew wide with astonishment. The images within were unlike anything he had ever seen. Women in scanty, revealing attire, posed provocatively. He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in bemusement.
“Victoria, whoever that wench might be, is not very adept at keeping secrets, it would seem,” he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with amusement. “Her secrets are all too well displayed.”
With a mix of shock and intrigue, he continued to leaf through the catalog. The medieval mage found himself both perplexed and fascinated by the modern world’s concept of allure and seduction.
He decided to take a bath, trying to clear his mind. The tiredness from sleepless nights and the relief knowing she had returned to him began to wash over him. As he turned down his bed, he halted, then left the room. Crawling into bed a bit later, he raised the booklet Fiona had given him, turning towards the candle for a better view.
Leafing through it again, his brows rose and drew together as he scrutinized each page. Despite his initial shock, he found himself grinning at the audacity of the content. His lecture was interrupted by the creaking of his chamber door. Fiona’s head appeared, her long braid dangling to the side as she smiled.
“Busted! Am I interrupting some private moments or are you still just drooling?” she teased.
Gwydion chuckled, shaking his head. “Merely marveling at this tome of modern-day enchantments thou hast bestowed upon me. Tell me, does this Victoria often attempt to beguile unsuspecting gentlemen with her so-called secrets?”
Fiona laughed, moving closer. “Well, she sure knows how to get attention. Consider it a crash course in modern allure.”
“Indeed,” Gwydion mused, still smiling. “I shall endeavor to learn from this most curious compendium.”
“Yeah, right, learning. That’s what most guys do when they steal those catalogs from their girlfriends.” She shut his door and climbed onto the bed with him, but then scrambled under the covers, which he watched amused, but said nothing.
“What? You never asked to come into my room. You just came in and… Well, you know, you were there. So, seen anything you like?” she pointed to the catalog. “Clothing, I mean. Those girls in there, most of them, are like the most sexy women and every straight guy wants them.”
Gwydion raised an eyebrow, still flipping through the pages. “I am uncertain. I believe I do enjoy it, yet I cannot quite fathom the purpose of so little clothing. This shall not keep thee warm.”
“It’s not supposed to. The bras are supposed to lift what’s there and enhance what isn’t.”
“To what end?”
“Well, you tell me.” She demonstrated by lifting her breasts through the nightshirt. “Much more in your face, literally, so now you can’t help but notice. That’s what those do,” she pointed at the bras in the Victoria’s Secret catalog.
Gwydion chuckled, shaking his head. “So, these are meant to entice the menfolk, then. Well, that maketh much sense, for I can attest they would. This Victoria, whosoever she may be, is most skilled at revealing rather than keeping secrets. So, a play on words, is it? And thou dost wear these… curious items?”
Fiona laughed, moving closer. “Yup. I like them and if a dude I am with likes them too, it’s a win: win, right? That stuff in there is a lot more my gear than those oversized nightgowns you make me wear here. I didn’t know your size, but man, I saw some clothes I bet you could rock. You’d turn some ladies’ head in some black leather pants and a nice button down.”
“Even thine own? Verily, I do possess a pair of leather breeches, though they were chiefly wrought for long rides on horseback and times of war,” he asked, his tone raspy.
Blushing, Fiona couldn’t think of anything to say, just stared at him.
Gwydion smiled softly. “Thou art most kind.” He looked at the catalog again, then back at her.
She pondered for a moment, then asked, “Gwydion, can I ask you something and get an honest answer from you?”
He nodded, waiting, so she continued, “So, my dad and brother seem to have found some very disturbing things about you. Damon, that’s my brother, didn’t wanna say much but at some point told me some really terrible things you supposedly have done and it just doesn’t make sense to me, why you would.”
Gwydion’s expression grew serious. “What dost thou wish to know?”
Fiona hesitated, then asked, “Well, for example, Damon mentioned something about you tricking some guy, king or something, and causing his death and that of like hundreds of his men. Is that true? And if so, why would you do something like that?”
Gwydion sighed, his gaze distant as he recalled the events. “Ah, the tale of Pryderi. ‘Tis true, I did deceive him, with cunning and magic, but not out of malice. Nay, it was about ensuring the safety and prosperity of mine people. In those dark times, cleverness and trickery were often the only means to achieve victory. Mine methods may have been harsh, but they were driven by a desire to protect and preserve. Let me tell thee the tale from the beginning, so thou might fully grasp the reasons.”
He spoke for quite a while, recounting the events in detail. As he wove the tale, Fiona leaned up against his chest, listening intently. His voice was both soothing and authoritative, painting vivid pictures of the past.
“In days of old, Pryderi was a formidable adversary, a warrior of great repute. Our kingdoms were at odds, and conflict seemed inevitable. To protect mine own people, I devised a plan to outwit him. With cunning, I created an illusion, leading him to believe he pursued victory, when in truth, he walked into a trap. The ensuing battle was fierce, and many perished. Though it pained me, Pryderi met his end. ‘Twas a necessary act to ensure the safety of my realm.
Alas, what now remains is but the knowledge of mine actions, while his nefarious motives seem forgotten, casting him as the hapless victim of mine supposed malice. This pattern, too, is woven throughout all my history, known to most as a sad tapestry of violence and darkness. Whilst I confess to committing many unsavory deeds, I once resented being cast as the villain in all tales. But then, I realized life holds much less challenge when others perceive thee as dark, ruthless, and malicious. Thus, I began to fuel their notions, rather than refute them.”
As he finished his explanation, he realized Fiona had fallen asleep against him. Gently, he guided her down, covering her with a blanket and wrapping himself around her. For the first time in days, he fell asleep easily, comforted by her presence.
***
The next morning, Gwydion woke up alone. For a moment, panic surged through him. His eyes darted around the room, finding her side of the bed empty. His heart raced, but then he closed his eyes, reaching out with his magic. He sensed her presence still within his domain, and a wave of relief washed over him. She was still here.
With a deep breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He made his way to the washbasin, splashing cold water on his face to chase away the remnants of sleep. The cool water felt refreshing, and he paused for a moment, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Thoughts of the previous night flooded back—her laughter, their conversation, the way she fell asleep against him. A small smile played on his lips as he remembered.
Gwydion moved through his morning routine methodically. He used the chamber pot, washed, and dressed in his usual attire, taking a bit more care with his appearance than usual. As he fastened the clasps on his tunic, he couldn’t help but wonder what Fiona was doing. His mind wandered to their conversations and the warmth she brought into his life. Despite the chaos that surrounded them, she had a way of making everything feel just a bit more manageable.
Once he was dressed, Gwydion made his way to the dining hall. He was still deep in thought, reflecting on the tales he had shared and the questions she had asked. He marveled at her curiosity and her willingness to understand his past. It was a stark contrast to the judgment he often faced.
When he entered the dining hall, he was surprised to find Fiona there, breakfast served, waiting for him. She looked up and smiled, holding up a steaming mug.
“I brought back some coffee,” she announced with a smile. “I made you some with milk. Come on, sit down and taste it.”
He sat down, curious about the modern beverage. He took a tentative sip, his expression thoughtful. Fiona watched eagerly.
“Well?” she asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
Gwydion swallowed, considering the taste. “It’s… quite different. Strong, yet with a pleasant bitterness. I can see why thou dost enjoy it.”
Fiona beamed. “I knew you’d like it! I am surprised you never had it before! You know, my great-grandfather, Cesare Vannucci, once told me about the history of coffee. It dates back to his heyday in the late 1400s. Or maybe it was early 1500s, I usually zone out when he starts talking about the olden days. He likes to talk. A lot. A LOT! Especially about history. I mean seriously, if he ever actually shows up at any parties or events that were not thrown by him at his castle, he usually just stands around, smiling pleasantly, exchanging a few balmy words, but barely says anything, though not as bad as grandpa Caelan, who will literally stand in some corner, stiff as a board, quiet like an oyster. Anyway, I’m surprised you, being older than him, never tasted it before. Coffee is life, man, especially in my family. It’s like literally the first thing I asked for after greeting my family.”
Gwydion nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “Ah, Cesare Vannucci, a name I have long been familiar with. Terrible what happened to his family, luckily for once, history didn’t blame it on me. As for coffee, during mine earlier years, it was not known in my lands. Even when it did arrive, it was considered an exotic luxury, often reserved for the wealthy and influential, more to show off. My focus was on my studies and the protection of my realm. There was little time for indulgences such as this and I had no care of impressing others with such trivial things.”
Fiona smiled, understanding dawning. “So, it’s more about the timing and circumstances than the availability.”
“Indeed,” Gwydion agreed, taking another sip. “Life in those times was filled with many responsibilities and dangers. Coffee, though a simple pleasure, was not part of my existence. Yet now, I find it quite enjoyable.”
“Yeah, well, if you had running water and electricity, we could buy a magical machine called a coffee maker and you could bathe in it, if you wanted to.”
*
Gwydion’s usual benders after conflicts with Fiona became less frequent and shorter each time, as he realized that whenever he left her alone, she would leave to see her family. Each time he returned to an empty home, left to wait for her to come back to him. He hated it so much that one time, he just couldn’t take it anymore and went to search for her, knowing a visit to Forgotten Hollow would be dangerous.
Forgotten Hollow
The O’Cavanaugh residence
Keeping in the shadows, hidden from view and away from the public roads, he searched for her home. The night was silent, and the air was thick with tension as he moved stealthily through the village. When he finally found her home, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever he might encounter.
Peeking into several windows, he finally spotted her, playing a board game with her family. The room was filled with laughter and warmth, a stark contrast to the cold, lonely nights he endured. Just now, something occurred in the game which Gwydion didn’t know, but the young man he knew as Damon seemed to have won and began showboating. Connell flung his remaining hand of cards at his son, making the room erupt with more laughter. Emmy, the mother, laughed, nudging her husband while telling him he would be cleaning that up.
Damon must have said something to Fiona because, in her feisty way, she jumped atop him, wrestling him down on the couch, messing up his hair with both hands until he begged for mercy. The room was filled with joy and playful banter, a scene of a loving family.
Chuckling at the scene, Gwydion thought to himself that he evidently wasn’t the only one at her mercy. He felt a pang of longing, wishing he could be a part of that warmth. As he turned to leave, his smile disappeared. He stared down the long edge of an English Longsword, at the other end Caelan’s ice-cold expression while the tip of the sword dug into the mage’s throat.
EchoesOfLegacy 