Parley Among the Ruins
The remnants of the ancient castle stood silhouetted against the twilight sky, ivy and moss creeping over the crumbling stones. Flickering torches cast eerie glows, their light dancing on the weathered walls and broken columns. The air was filled with the scent of damp earth and the distant cries of nocturnal creatures, adding to the atmosphere of tension that hung heavy in the open air.
Gwydion stood amidst the ruins, his imposing figure framed by the remains of towering arches. Before him, on the remnants of what had once been a majestic courtyard, stood the vampires Connell, Cesare, and Caelan. This place, chosen for its history and neutrality, served as the stage for their parley, ensuring no side held the upper hand.
Taking a deep breath, Gwydion’s eyes met those of the men before him, each face etched with suspicion and resolve. The task ahead was monumental, but his determination was unwavering. With the weight of centuries of wisdom and tradition in his voice, he began his elaborate speech.
“Esteemed lords, I stand before thee, not merely as an Archmage of the Welsh kingdoms, leader of all mages, but as a man driven by a purpose most profound. My lineage is one of honor, forged in the fires of countless battles, and my mastery over the arcane is known far and wide. Yet, amidst the vast expanse of my dominion, I have found something of greater value—a companionship that transcends the ephemeral nature of power and conquest.”
He paused, his eyes locking with Connell’s, whose expression was a mixture of suspicion and contempt.
“I seek companionship of a lasting nature. Thus, I do beseech thee for the hand of thy daughter, the maiden Fiona O’Cavanaugh, in matrimony. This union would ensure that a mother and her child are not torn asunder, a matter that should be of utmost interest to all present.”
Connell’s reaction was immediate and vehement. “What the …. No way! This is ridiculous! My daughter isn’t going to marry someone like you, mage!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the ruins. Spittle flew from his lips, and his eyes blazed with a preternatural glow, his vampiric nature adding a menacing intensity to his fury. “Fiona is too smart, too precious, too sweet, and she’s worked too hard in college to build a great future, a career. She deserves better than to be hidden away in some medieval hole with you. She’s not going to marry into whatever ancient trouble you’re dragging with you. You have interfered and disrupted our family life enough already!”
Caelan, ever the colder and distant enforcer, stepped forward, his icy gaze locked onto Gwydion. His voice, devoid of warmth, cut through the tension like a blade. “My son Connell speaks the truth, mage. You have no place in our family or our lives. Fiona is not some pawn to be used for your purposes, even though you already turned her into that, which sadly can’t be helped. Your audacity to even request this parley is outrageous, as is you asking my son for his daughter’s hand, it is an affront to our coven, to all vampires, and I will not stand for it.”
Caelan’s expression remained stoic, his anger simmering beneath the surface, but his words carried the weight of his unyielding resolve. “Leave now, mage, or face the full wrath of me. This is not a threat; it is a promise. One I intend to keep! You have managed to escape with your life before, this time, you won’t have such luck. Leave now, or die!”
“Enough!” Cesare’s voice boomed, silencing both men. With a wave of his hand, a subtle yet powerful force held Connell and Caelan at bay. “As the Grand Master Elder, I reserve the right to make such decisions, especially in the event that those whose normal right it would be can’t be trusted to act in their or their ward’s, let alone the vampire community’s best interest. Gwydion ap Aberffraw, I have heard your request, and I am considering it, however, I insist that Fiona must be fetched and heard on this as well. Connell, if you would, please…” Cesare’s tone was polite but clearly an order, not a request.
Gwydion nodded; his determination unwavering. Connell reluctantly departed to fetch Fiona, leaving the remaining group in an uneasy silence.
When moments later Connell reappeared with Fiona, her expression was a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Gwydion? Grandpa? Great-Grandpa? Dad, what is going on again? Where is this even!? Dad, what are we doing here?” she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension and confusion, but Connell couldn’t answer her for fear he’d say the wrong things, so he just shook his head, averting his eyes.
Gwydion, grappling with the weight of his words, spoke slowly in his archaic manner. “We gather here for I have reached conclusions most astonishing, even to myself, and surely to thee. Yet, I delved deep within my soul, and sought counsel from the Oracle, Hecate, who didst confirm my visions. Fiona, my lady fair, I humbly beseech thee to join me in a union of hearts and lives. Such a bond would ensure that our cherished child is nurtured under the watchful eyes of both loving parents, as is just and proper.”
Fiona’s eyes widened in shock, her mind racing to comprehend the sudden turn of events. “Do what? I didn’t understand anything you just said…” she stammered, clearly taken aback.
Before she could say more, Caelan, unable to contain his rage, attacked from behind with a powerful blow. This time, Gwydion was alert. As he stared at Fiona, he saw her eyes widen in horror. “Gwydion, watch out, behind you, the sword!” she screamed, while in a reflex, trying to pull him away.
But instead, reacting swiftly, Gwydion half-turned, summoning a powerful blast of magic that sent Caelan tumbling down, crashing into the stone floor. With a fluid motion, Gwydion summoned Connell’s sword, a weapon forged of metals capable of killing even the strongest occult beings. As both a formidable mage and a seasoned warrior, he landed a powerful blow on Caelan. The strike was precise and devastating, slashing across Caelan’s chest, cutting through muscle and sinew. Blood seeped from the deep gash, pooling around him as he lay writhing in pain on the cold stone.
Still angry and fed up with Caelan’s constant attacks, Gwydion’s eyes burned with anger as he raised the sword. “Caelan, thy insolence and ceaseless assaults shall plague me no more. By the ancient gods and the oaths I have sworn, thy provocations end here and now. My patience, like the waxing moon, hath reached its fullest and can bear no more,” he vowed, his voice echoing with an ancient authority.
Cesare and Connell rushed forward, trying to stop him, but they discovered the mage had surrounded himself and Caelan with a ward field they couldn’t penetrate. Gwydion, mad with anger, prepared to deliver the final blow.
“NO! Please, Gwydion, stop!” Fiona called out, her voice trembling with emotion. She pressed her hands against the forcefield, as if trying to reach through it, her fingers splayed against the invisible barrier like it was a window. He halted, his body trembling with rage, but slowing down as if he could feel Fiona eyes pleading. “Please don’t, he’s my grandpa…” she said quietly.
Breathing heavily, Gwydion deliberated. The forcefield suddenly disappeared, and he almost theatrically turned to face her, his eyes locking onto hers. They stared at each other for a moment, the tension in the room palpable. Gwydion slowly reached out, and Fiona, with trembling steps, walked to him and took his hand. He brought her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers as he kissed it, the borrowed sword clattering to the ground.
His voice softened as he spoke, still retaining that ancient lilt. “Fiona, my heart hath been hardened by the sands of time, yet for thee it softens. This moment, this choice, it is thine. Do we forge a future together, or do we remain as we are, bound by circumstance and old grudges?”
“Fiona! Fi, baby, come back here. Come to me. Get away from him!” Connell raged, torn between rushing to his father, who lay on the ground in visible pain from the injuries inflicted by Gwydion with Connell’s sword, or saving his daughter from the mage. Connell hesitated, fear gripping him as he realized the danger of getting too close to the enraged mage, fearing retaliation. Gwydion now turned to him, his hand still holding Fiona’s.
“I ask you one final time, Connell O’Cavenaugh, son of Caelan, descendant of Cesare, for thy blessing to make thy fair daughter Fiona mine. What is thy answer?”
With eyes blazing, Connell ran to pick up his sword and came at Gwydion with a vengeance, bracing for the impact. Fiona screamed. Cesare, who was tending to his son Caelan’s injuries, looked up, but before he could stop Connell, Gwydion grabbed Fiona and disappeared with her, leaving Connell to swing his sword through empty space. He stumbled to a halt where they had stood, the reality of their disappearance crashing down on him.
Connell’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to blur. The realization that the dangerous mage whom he had grown to hate had once more disappeared with his precious daughter, right before his eyes, hit him like a hammer. He was a coven enforcer, the finest the vampires had for defense and protection, yet he had AGAIN failed to save his own daughter. The shame and anger twisted inside him, knowing that despite his training and strength, he had been outmatched. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted. His face twisted with fury, veins bulging at his temples, and his eyes blazing with a preternatural glow. He let out a primal, guttural scream that echoed through the ruins, a sound of pure anguish and desperation.
Connell began hacking at the air and nearby vegetation with his sword, the blade slicing through leaves and branches with a ferocious intensity. Each swing was a desperate attempt to vent his fury, the sound of the sword cutting through the air a testament to his inner turmoil.
Cesare, recognizing the urgency of the situation, stepped forward with a commanding presence. “Connell, enough!” he barked, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. “We need to get Caelan back to the castle so his injuries can be properly tended to. We cannot afford to lose focus now. Your father is badly hurt, I can help him but need my supplies back at the castle!”
Connell, struggling to contain his fury, glanced down at his father, who lay on the ground in pain. The rational part of his mind fought to regain control, and he forced himself to nod. “You’re right, Grandfather,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse. “Let’s get him back. But I swear, I will find a way to get Fiona back. My poor daughter… my poor wife. Emmy will be devastated when I come home without Fiona again.”
With a final, seething look at the spot where Gwydion had disappeared, Connell bent down to help his father. The determination in his eyes burned brighter than ever, fueled by the promise he had just made.
Caer Hud, the Mage’s Lair
Stumbling slightly after Gwydion released her from his grasp, Fiona quickly glanced around and realized she was back at his home. She shot him a discouraged glance.
“Not this again! Why though?”
“I could not leave thee among vampires mad with anger, incapable of grasping one reasonable thought.”
“Seriously!? You’ll think mad vampire if you don’t take me back home! I’m not doing this again. No way. No!” She glared at him, and when he didn’t immediately react, she turned on her heels and headed for his front door. Surprised by her actions, he stood stiffly at first, then quickly caught up with her outside his home, where she was looking around, trying to decide which direction to take.
“Pray tell, what art thou doing?”
“Going home!” she declared, then turned and started walking briskly. He caught her arm, but she shook it loose, turning to face him. “Take me home or don’t touch me. I swear, if you think my dad and grandpa were vicious, you’ll learn the meaning of that word again!”
He quickly stepped in front of her, cutting her off. When she tried to step around him, he put both hands on her, a pleading look in his eyes as she shook his hands off fiercely, glaring at him angrily.
“Fiona, my maiden fair, please. If I vow to take thee home in two days hence, wouldst thou kindly remain with me? Thou knowest it is not good for the child to port, and thou art too far from home to travel comfortably by foot or other means,” he spoke unusually softly, giving her pause as she considered his words. He added, “Please.”
Their eyes met, and with a deep sigh, she nodded. “Fine. I hate it when you’re right. It’s annoying. You’re clearly the bad guy here. You shouldn’t be right.”
Gwydion’s expression softened, and he gently took her hand. “Am I the villain in thy story, Fiona? Or might there be more than what first meets thine eye?” He raised her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss, a gesture filled with a blend of ancient elegance and heartfelt sincerity.
Fiona rolled her eyes and sighed. “Urgh! This isn’t a fairy tale, Gwydion. This love story, or whatever you think it is, started with you breaking and entering, then abduction, extortion, threats, more abductions. If I wanted to be like that, I could add rape, even though it wasn’t really, but kinda… just don’t talk to me right now!” She pulled her hand away and started walking back to his home, leaving him standing there, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched her go.
“Fiona…” he called out, his smile unwavering. “If I be the villain, why dost thou keep saving me from death?”
She halted, then turned to him, with a defeated look she shrugged. “That is a question that keeps me up at night.”
He walked up to her, taking her hand again, kissing the fingertips, his eyes never leaving hers, still smiling.
“I think thou dost know, just as I know. I was as confused and, dare I say, even startled when I discovered mine own true feelings. But now I am determined to make thee see it too. And I think thou already dost, yet still refuse to accept the truth. I have, and it is liberating.”
“Truth? You want the rough truth? I have to pee. Which I do a lot ever since you got me pregnant. And don’t even start. I know when it probably happened, and I know it was very much mutual, so no need to bring that up. I know all this started with your villainous demands, but this baby was created in passion, which is why I want to protect it and why I will stay and not demand to be sent back home immediately. I know what you’re trying to do here. The good girl likes the big bad villain. Yeah, I am THAT girl now. But you are still the villain. YOU started all this with your evil plan. But that’s not how things work nowadays. Women have rights now, and don’t get used as pawns anymore, like you did with me, and I have a huge problem with that. I grew up among vampires, I was born one, and always knew that life would never be what all my mortal friends consider normal, but this? Look, Gwydion, I get it, you’re used to getting your way, you’re old and powerful and all that, great. But what about me? What about my feelings? My wishes? My dreams? What about MY plan? I didn’t want to be a mother, at least not yet. Honestly, I never even thought about if I ever wanted to have a child. Guess now I do, for better or worse. But you want to take that child from me, so how am I supposed to like you? How are you NOT the villain? How am I NOT supposed to be conflicted, huh?”
“I am trying to give thee, not take from thee. Thou must hearken to me. I met with thy father today and thy leader to seek their blessing. To give you what you desire.”
“Blessing?! I don’t know what you are saying, I don’t know what hearken means. But I did understand you saying you want to give me what I desire. Clearly, you do not know what that is, so here goes: I want to go HOME. And I want to STAY home. HOME. Not THIS again! Maybe me staying here is entertaining for you, but not for me. That you DO understand, right? I want to be a normal 23-year-old girl and do what others my age do. Not what they did when you were young, whatever that was. I guess at my age they were all married and had a dozen kids, while baking bread for the whole village or something. We don’t do that anymore! We get educations and have the right to choose our own paths now. I went to high school, then college, had my first job, where I was treated like an idiot because I am young, then my first love, which turned into a really miserable breakup… and now all this. I don’t want all this. I want to go back to licking my wounds from the breakup with my mommy and daddy doting on me while my baby brother teases me into laughing, until Damon and I team up against our older sister, cracking never-ending wet dog jokes because she is married to a Werewolf. I want to go out with friends, have fun, meet a new guy who finally appreciates me and won’t just slap a ring on the first chick the king recommends because he genuinely loves me. Then we move into a place together and do that life for a while, build our careers, and THEN we think about a future together. THAT is what I want.”
“Those plans stem from thy days as a mortal, do they not? Would those still make sense now that thou hast immortality and an eternity?”
Fiona stared at him, recognition that he was right, had a good point washing over her, her mouth opening.
“I REALLY hate it when you’re right. HATE it! You probably really are in my head with your magic tricks, just like Dad and Grandpa always suspect! And I really gotta pee now!” she turned and hurried inside, leaving Gwydion standing there with the confidence that no magic was needed to make her realize what he had realized already.
Slowly, he followed her inside, still wearing the smile.
He had made it to the Great Hall, savoring some red wine, when he heard Fiona’s steps approaching. He turned, offering her a chalice. “Join me for libations?”
“No thanks, you weirdo! In more pressing news: you installed a real toilet? WOW! I never thought a toilet would impress me, but you managed. Thank you.” nodding at her, he clapped loudly, moments after one of the servants scurried in with a pitcher and a new chalice, filling it up, then scurrying back out, eyes to the ground, moving along the wall. Gwydion took the chalice and handed it to Fiona.
“I can’t drink wine! I am pregnant, remember? In my time we know we shouldn’t drink alcohol while growing life inside of us.”
“It is not wine. Taste it.”
Fiona sniffed it, then took a small sip, looking at Gwydion. “Grape juice?”
He nodded.
“Okay, so you think you can dazzle me into staying with you with a toilet and alcohol-free drinks? You don’t understand. The way you are is kinda cool to watch sometimes, but I can’t live with that. Here. It’s just too… too… Dark Ages or whatever era you are from. My great-grandpa Cesare was born in 1400-something, and listen to him. Sure, sometimes he sounds a bit different, but you can understand him fine. The castle looks like a castle, inside and out, but it has all the creature comforts. Always did, for as long as I am alive anyway. And he knows what’s up; he even uses a cell phone and a computer. And then there is you, and THIS! Being here feels like being a participant in one of those survivor-type reality shows. Oh, wait, you don’t even know what a TV is, let alone shows. See, I don’t even know how to talk to you. About what. I know nothing about your life and you don’t understand mine. That’s just it. I don’t know you. I can’t be here with you. This baby is bad enough, but then again, even in my time some girls ended up preggers after a one-night stand, so… I guess this is not that outlandish. You’re kind of a bad choice at a club, a one-night-stand I am now having a baby by. In a roundabout way. At least that will be my story if anyone I went to school with sees me once you can actually tell that I am pregnant.”
“Ask me anything, and I shall tell thee. Thou canst know me. And I already know thee. I watched thee. I have only ever given thee truth, never lies. I know we are different, but I think that might be a strength, not a weakness.”
Fiona shook her head at his suggestion but then tilted her head, weighing her options. Gwydion set down his wine and grabbed her chalice, placing it beside his. He offered her his hand. When she didn’t take it, he gently took her hand and pulled her with him. She reluctantly followed until she realized he was leading her to his bedchamber. She dug in her heels, refusing to move further.
“Please,” he said softly, looking into her eyes with a sincerity that made her hesitate.
“Well, not like I could wind up accidentally pregnant now,” she muttered, giving in and following him. Gwydion led her into his room, where the bathtub that once sat in the middle and the chamberpot from the corner were gone. A new wall, smelling of fresh construction, had been erected, blending seamlessly with the room’s historical design. In the wall was a door which he now led her through. Fiona’s mouth fell open when she saw a modern toilet, a shower in the corner, and a sink with running water, yet the old wooden bathtub still remained.
“Why do you have a shower in your room when you never cared before, and why don’t I have one in my room?” she asked, surprised.
Gwydion smirked and shrugged. “I thought perhaps this way thou might desire to return to my bedchamber of thine own accord,” he said with a hint of playfulness in his eyes.
“Wow. At least you’re honest, and you know, at this point I just might. Wow, me, I might end up sleeping with a guy I am having a baby with to save my grandpa, only to have a nice hot shower. Damn! My daddy would be so proud. Oh wait, he actually knows about all this,” she commented, a mix of frustration and amusement in her voice. But then she looked up at him, seeing the effort he had made to accommodate her needs. “Why all this?”
Gwydion’s expression softened. “Because I wish to make thee comfortable. Thou hast expressed many times how thou art not, and I wish to remedy that. I wish to build a life with thee and our child, not merely as a mage, but as a partner.”
“Life together? Partner? Wait, what? Am I having a stroke or something?”
“I wish to make my home feel like thine, a place where thou art at ease, where we can build a future together.” he paused then locked his eyes with her when he added quietly “And a place you wish to be.”
“I am sorry, but I really don’t understand what you want from me. Am I supposed to live with you now? I mean, even after the baby is born? Oh my God! You thought putting in a couple toilets and a shower would make me weak in the knees and get me to comply? To play house with you so you have a free wet nurse for the baby? You have GOT to be kidding me!”
“Fiona, thou art the desire of mine heart, and it is my earnest wish to take thee as my bride. This would be a new venture for both of us, for though I have sired heirs in the distant past, they are but ancient history to most. Yet, never have I taken a wife. The reason I sought audience with thy father today, and with thy leader, was to gain their blessing for our union. Alas, my request was met with refusal and violence, and it seems there is no hope of that changing. However, I beseech thee now, in thine own right. Wouldst thou, Fiona, consider my plea to join with me in marriage, to be my companion and partner in this life and the next? I have grown to love thee, my maiden fair, mother of my child.”
Gwydion’s expression softened as he gently reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from Fiona’s face. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he traced the curve of her cheek. He then placed his hand on her still flat belly, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and vulnerability.
Fiona, completely taken aback, stood there in silence, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Surprise and confusion played across her features as she struggled to find words. She had not expected such a declaration, and now found herself at a loss, unable to immediately articulate her feelings.
“Fiona, I vow to love and honor thee and our unborn child, if only thou wouldst give me thy yes. I have been tested, betrayed, lied to, and misled more than any soul could bear. I have lost everything I ever held dear, more than once. So, I grew cold, distant, and distrusting. Yet, thy actions of kindness, even in the most adverse conditions, thy passion and inner fire, melted my frozen heart. Initially, I desired only an heir. But now, I desire thy companionship, thy love, and affection. Thou hast awakened something within me that I thought long dead. I wish to build a life with thee and our child, not merely as a mage, but as a partner. As a … family. Fiona, I love thee. This feeling is magical, yet it is not of my magic, for I am as captivated by thee as thou art by me.”
Fiona’s eyes widened as the weight of his words settled over her. The room seemed to spin, and she felt her knees buckle. Gwydion’s quick reflexes saved her from collapsing, catching her just in time. He scooped her up in his arms, cradling her gently as he carried her to his bed. He placed her down with the utmost care, his heart aching with the intensity of his confession and the uncertainty of her response.
As he watched her unconscious, he whispered softly, “I shall wait for thee, my love. For as long as it takes, I shall wait for you to see me as I see thee now, and to give me your yes.”
EchoesOfLegacy 