Day 14 of Midwinter, Sunset

Caisleán Saighead, Gorias

Annwn

After the council meeting, I found myself wandering the castle, unable to bring myself to wash off the remains of the infernal serpents from Fintan’s tower. The red flakes falling left a trail of dried blood everywhere I went, and my sepia-toned skin had a weathered look. It was itchy, but in light of the information Nemain had presented to the council, being filthy on the outside seemed unimportant. I felt filthy on the inside, too.

She had said she’d seen Bren on Inis Fer Falga, nobbin’ hobs with his Fomorian brother, Cai Maccán, the one who’d likely planned the invasion of Gorias…the one responsible for the death of countless citizens of my isle. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Everything we knew about Cai and his adopted family pointed to him as some sort of strategic genius, capable of bringing destruction upon Falias and the sister cities. Yet he’d been defeated in Gorias, and Bren had fought against his forces.

Bren now deciding to follow Cai didn’t sit well with me. Sure, he was naïve, even gullible, but not evil. Bren would be the first one to stand up against the wrongs I knew Cai was guilty of…wouldn’t he? I was filled with sudden doubt. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I believed.

I wandered for hours, hearing people talk at me from every corridor and open space in Caisleán Saighead. I didn’t take in or respond to any of it. I was lost in my own thoughts, and unwelcome memories crowded in, making me even more confused and heartsick.

With a start, I found I had unintentionally wandered to Uaimh an Bhróin, The Cave of Sorrows. I had sworn I would never return to this place, where the worst memories of my life hung on the wall, on display for anyone to see. Behind the series of doors in front of me lay the dead, magical ore of my fallen King’s Guard sisters.

This place was both a tomb and a monument to my failure as an Ellyllon sworn to protect the king. We had battled fiercely against the coup, but all had fallen…all except me left to carry the pain of our failure alone. Even the king who saved me, rather than saving his position, was gone now. The undying man, killed by treachery twice over.

My hands shaking, I opened the door to the treasure vault, then the final door that led into the cave beyond. I walked down the narrow tunnel, stepping from finished to unfinished walls. I felt an immediate change in the air. Inside the rough passageway, I could smell the wetness and the minerals, as they seeped through the rock that surrounded me.

I stopped short at the bottom of the tunnel, and my breath caught in my chest. I wasn’t sure what I had expected after such a passing of time, but it wasn’t this. Instead of a forgotten, dusty shrine, I found a pristine and well-kept monument to the dead.

Rock shelves along the walls held the carefully placed remains of the Ellyllon soldiers I had once served with. I could see no dirt, debris, or other evidence that any time had passed since their deaths. The Duinnite ore held the same vibrant white coloration I remembered. Everlasting flame canisters burned at the corners of each shelf, casting the crypt in a soft glow.

“Father came here first,” a voice said from behind me. I turned to see the most beautiful man in all of Annwn. Aengus stood just behind me in the passage. “This room was his first stop after the reclamation of Gorias had begun.”

I felt heat rushing to my cheeks, as it always did when the god of Love was present. But the normal hot feeling felt more muted than normal. My eyes found the floor, and I bowed my head to him. Aengus shook his head gently, then stepped forward to wrap his arms around me. He lifted me into a bear hug, pulling me deeper into his delicious, wonderful body. I sighed and melted into him, allowing the tears to come…allowing myself to feel all of the emotion I had been pushing aside.

The fallen Ellyllon. A dead king. Failed purpose. Bren’s possible betrayal. Years and years of repressed pain and grief. None had been enough to break me. In the end, I cracked like the crystal in the ore around me, not because of my prolonged suffering. No, it was The Dagda’s act of mutual respect and kindness that overwhelmed me. He had prioritized the revitalization of the cave even when the house around it had crumbled.

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Aengus began humming as he held me. Occasionally, I felt his chest heave as I lost myself in the deep sound of his voice. It only briefly crossed my mind that he too might be feeling overwhelmed by the moment. Words grew out of his gentle hum. The song had an unusual sound, far different than the ones I was used to hearing in the taverns and pubs of Annwn. It felt as though it harkened back to another time and another place.

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art

Thou my best thought, by day or by night

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

It was a hymn, I realized, an early Christian hymn from the first missionaries to Ireland. Among them had been the woman who had captured the heart of Aengus Og.

I lifted my head from his chest to stare at the cross he always wore around his neck. It glinted in the flickering firelight.

“Caer once told me,” he began, “that we are only given burdens we ourselves can carry. No more.”

I remembered her now, Caer Ibormeith, the mortal woman from the Lake of Swans. It had been quite the tale around the castle at the time. Aengus had stayed in Ériu with the missionaries much longer than many felt he should have…and fallen in love.

“Are you trying to convert me?” I joked, easing myself out of his arms and wiping my wet face.

“No, but there is wisdom in the words of the Christian god.” He said with a shrug. “He taught love and compassion.”

“Sounds familiar,” I admitted. “But at the moment, I’m angling more toward hate with a healthy dose of vengeance.”

He smiled at me. It was a loving smile like he knew better than I did what I was feeling. It was annoying, but I could never get angry with Aengus.

“I think there is more to learn from this hymn than the worship of the Christian god.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Morias these days.”

Another smile, this one sad. “My sister-brother was not the best king. Bres angered the politicians because he was raw and untrained. He treated everyone in his life the same. He believed that he was their servant, not the other way around, and those around him loved him for it. Each family member, each Ellyllon became his light in the dark. Each became the lord of his heart.”

“Is this a parable? What’s your point?” I asked. I shot Aengus a mock scowl.

He paused a moment, maybe realizing that even he could only get away with so much. He stared into my eyes. “Who or what is the lord of your heart, Fíadan? I see how you grieve, and yet you continue to fight. Why?”

I drew Stick, using the blade to point to the inert ore on the shelves. The blade trembled in my hand ever so slightly and I quickly put it back down.

“Because I ain’t done yet.” I felt my face flush for a different reason. My heart pounded, and I felt anger rising, battling with the constant grief. I was working myself up into a frenzy, and when it came, there was very little I could do to stop the words from exploding out of me. “It wasn’t good enough that they took his crown!”

Aengus nodded, surprising me. His expression seemed to will me to take it one step further. I cast my mind back to the night Nuada had come with his brothers and personal guard to Castle Arrow. It was supposed to have been a routine visit, but something had felt off.

Never before had so many Ellyllon and changelings accompanied Nuada across the Straits of Segais, but we didn’t see the challenge coming, none of us, not even the Fomorian kin of Bres. This had been before they had been sent to live in the deep-water port of Murias. It was before they had become the enemies of Falias.

Something clicked in my mind, a piece of the puzzle falling into place. I realized the idea had always been there, tugging on my subconscious. Was the man responsible for stealing the crown also responsible for the death of my former king? If so, how had he done it, and why had he waited so long to finish the job? It didn’t fit together perfectly in my mind, and yet…it made a horrible kind of sense.

I must have looked flustered and confused. Aengus kept his distance, but his soft words reached me through my haze of thought. “Now you see the truth…and also understand why I couldn’t bring myself to come back into the castle.”

I met his eyes and nodded. “Nothing makes sense anymore.”

My mind reeled with the uncertainty of the future. What would we do in the coming war? Nemain was right. We would almost certainly be called to war against the Fomorians, and against…

“Bren.” I must have spoken aloud. Aengus looked puzzled.

“Bren,” I said again, this time more loudly. As if saying his name conjured him directly into my mind, I remembered our recent time together with more clarity. I recalled the battle on Wolves Hill and the time around the fire in the Midlands. I thought about saying goodbye to him outside the walls of the castle. Things were just…better when Bren was around. I was better. A smile broke across my face.

Aengus returned it. “I think perhaps you have more than one lord of your heart, Fí.”