by Mia Pride
“How can you be certain, Patrick? What if they are just normal triplet infant lassies? I cannot do it…they are all I have left of Alyson.” His face was contorted with grief as he stared down at two of his new daughters, deep pain in his eyes. He looked up at Patrick with desperation, hoping the druid would change his mind. But Patrick only shook his head with firm resolve.
“Nay, King Doran. They are the Three Sisters of Danu, the reborn goddesses of the Tuatha de Danann and descendants of Dana the faery. Alyson must have been the last female descendant of Dana, for the prophecy clearly states that, on the eve of Beltane, born to a king and the last female descendant of Dana, will be three daughters of equal beauty, each with hair of a different color but the same brilliant green eyes. They will each possess a power over the elements---”
“Och! I’ve heard the prophecy many times, Patrick! Nay need to tell me further. I just never thought t’would be Alyson and me to birth them…” One of the babes started to cry, sensing the king’s frustration, and he started rocking them both and making shushing sounds.
“It is so. They must be separated. They cannot know of one another’s existence. Not yet.” His face showed clear sympathy and regret, but his voice was firm.
Doran looked down at his two daughters. “I could not decide which one to keep. I love them all very much. They all look like their mother…” His voice faded off as he stared at them and a tear dropped down into the swaddle blanket of the brown haired child. “I decided to keep Gwynneth with me. She was the first born. It was the only way I could decide.” He looked up at Patrick with pleading hazel eyes. “Please make sure they go to good homes, to women who will raise them and love them as her own, but respect their identity and allow me to visit.”
Patrick nodded his head in affirmation. “I will take them to the faeries of the mounds. They will know of the prophecy and already have homes selected for your daughters. They will go to women with The Sight. Their caregivers must know of the prophecy and be able to foresee any dangers or complications as they come.” Seeing the king’s eyes widen with worry, Patrick raised his hand in a gesture of reassurance. “I do not believe your daughters to be in danger. If legend is true, they will grow healthy, beautiful, kind…and strong willed.” He gave the king a friendly smirk trying to lighten the mood slightly.
King Doran looked down one last time at his infant daughters as they both stared back at him with beaming green eyes. He sighed in resignation and gave them both a kiss on the forehead. “It breaks my heart to send them away. But if it is the will of the gods, I have nay choice.” He placed them both in a large woven basket on the ground with strong handles and bundled them up with blankets all around. Lifting them up, he handed them to the druid reluctantly and looked up at Patrick.
Patrick nodded, daughters in one hand and torch in the other. “They will be alright, King Doran. Trust in the Fates. Raise Gwynneth well, and leave the rest to the gods. I will report back to you with their location. You are free to visit them as you please.” He started to walk away and suddenly paused, turning around to look at Doran warily, “Remember the prophecy. Gwynneth must marry a king. Do whatever is required to make it so. Tis crucial.” With that, Patrick walked off into the darkness with two of the Sisters of Danu and left King Doran alone, watching them disappear from his vision, hands cradling his face as he sobbed into the night.
Gwynneth took a step forward with her arm outstretched to her distressed father. She felt a strong need to hold him and tell him that she understood now why he married her to Baine. At least, she had a better understanding than she had before. Yet, so many thoughts were swarming through her mind. The druid mention power over the elements. What sort of powers could she possibly possess? She had never seen any strange abilities within herself. An image of the mysterious stream appearing before her and Duncan in the forest pushed its way into her mind, but she shook it away. She had other things to worry about now.
If it was her destiny to marry a king, why was Baine not made king? Who is she destined to marry now? Must she marry the new King of Iverni, a man she could not even remember? She clutched at her souring stomach, wondering how she would tell Liam that she could no longer marry him.
He wasn’t her fate, after all. Once again, Liam was forbidden to her, just when she thought she was free to be his. He was not a king and the druid had said it was a crucial part of the prophecy. If she defied the gods and married Liam anyway, surely only tragedy would follow, and she had had enough of that.
Despair gripped her heart at the thought of losing Liam again. As she took one more step toward her father, the world started to spin again, colors twisting and voices whispering as the chill blew across her face. Closing her eyes, she waited for the weightlessness to cease. She was lying on her back and sat upright with a start and a gasp. She clutched something in her fist; it was warm and soft. Inhaling deeply, she smelled the aroma of herbal tea and burning wood. Opening her eyes, she looked around to see where her father had taken her this time. She saw Liam sitting on the edge of the bed looking concerned at her with hot tea in his hand, the steam rising up to his face.
“Are you alright, Gwynneth? You’ve been talking in your sleep all night. Something about your father.” His face was set in a grim line of worry as he handed her the tea. Her hand was unsteady with the memory of her dream, but she carefully reached out to grab the tea and gave him a weak smile of gratitude. The clay cup was warm and it soothed her cold hands and helped to slow her heart rate.
She looked at Liam’s concerned blue eyes. His gaze held a certain power over her. When Liam looked at her, her heart caught in her chest and a warmth spread instantly throughout her body. She knew she had to tell him, but now was not the time. Let them enjoy a little more time together, if it was to be their last, she thought grimly. Why would fate force her, for a second time, to marry a man other than Liam?
“Thank you,” she said weakly as she took a small sip of tea. “I did have a terrible dream last night.” She heard a movement near the fire and looked up abruptly, wondering, for only a split moment, if her father was still in the room. But the only other person present was Abigael, standing over by the table stirring a pot of hot porridge. Feeling Gwynneth’s gaze upon her, Abigael looked up slowly and locked eyes with her. A mischievous, knowing smile spread across her face and she gave a wink to Gwynneth. Gwynn squinted her eyes, trying to read Abigael’s thoughts.
“Wish to break your fast?” was all Abigael replied to Gwynneth’s staring. She nodded her head in acceptance, and Abigael smiled again and walked over to her bed, putting a bowl on her lap, then scooped a loose blonde hair behind Gwynneth’s ear. “Having strange dreams, are you?” she said through veiled lashes.
Gwynneth, not wanting to discuss the dream, simply nodded as she stared at her bowl of food. Abigael was still sitting on the edge of the bed, tucking some stray strands of her silver hair back under her cooking cap as the door swung open with a loud bang. Everyone’s head turned in the direction of the door, wondering who would barge in at such an early hour.
With a chill following behind her, Ceara stormed in, green eyes wide, cheeks and nose tinged pink from the cold. Her thick fur-lined cloak was ruffling in the breeze as she swished in and removed her hood, tendrils of red wavy hair falling all around her bewitching face. She swept a few wild strands away from her full red lips and strode in with the commanding elegance of a true queen. Even with the forceful wind working against her, her beauty was infallible.
“Good morrow, my love,” Abigael purred with motherly affection and got up to help Ceara take off her cloak, revealing her form-fitting red dress bound with a gold belt around her slim waist, accentuating every luscious curve of her body. Ceara did not respond, only stared wide eyed at her mother before slowly turning her head to look at Gwynneth. As the two young women stared intently into one another’s emerald eyes, a somber silence fell over the room.
Liam had never seen Ceara before. He had been too injured to
walk when he first arrived at Coraindt and his vision was blurred from his swollen black eye. He only ever heard her voice and felt her delicate touch as she changed his head bandage. He had been too disoriented and distracted to care. Seeing her for the first time now, his eyes visually widened as his mouth dropped open. He inhaled deeply at the sight of her, and slowly released his breath, almost in a whistle.
Hearing his loud intake of breath, Gwynneth diverted her eyes from Ceara to Liam. Seeing the expression on his face as he gaped awkwardly at the beautiful woman before him, an explosive jealousy gripped her, making her vision blur and her head spin. Jaw clenching and nostrils flaring, Gwynneth scrambled out of bed and slapped Liam hard across the face. His head snapped to the side from the unexpected impact, letting out a grunt of pain. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room, Gwynneth lowered her eyes and grabbed her cloak with a swirl of her night dress as she stormed into the freezing autumn air, leaving the door swinging open behind her.
Liam’s face changed in quick succession from confusion, to hurt and then settled on a state of furor. “What the…by the evil eye of Balor!” He jumped off the corner of the bed and stormed past Abigael and Ceara to chase Gwynneth down.
“Liam, let her be,” Abigael suggested as she put a hand on his arm to stop him.
“Och! I will not!” His teeth were grinding as he shrugged out of her grasp and stormed out after Gwynneth, seeing her cloak billowing in the wind as she walked away. “Gwynn! Stop!” She ignored his shouting and kept walking away, toward King Garreth’s house, no doubt. “By the spear of Lugh, woman! What was that about?” He sprinted ahead and grabbed her arm, swinging her around aggressively to face him.
Struggling in his firm grip to break away, she looked up to him with hurt eyes and snarled at him in distain. “Go away, Liam. Leave me alone. Go back to Ceara, if you think she is so beautiful,” she choked as she pulled away from him.
Liam grabbed on to both of Gwynn’s arms, forcing her to face him, shaking her when she tried to break free. “Gwynneth, I wasn’t staring at her because she is beautiful. I mean, she is, aye, but tis because she looks just like…”
“Och! So you admit it, then? I have eyes, Liam! I can see she is quite beautiful! She is also married to the king who has served as your host for a sennight! But, why am I surprised? Since when does a woman being married stop YOU from taking advantage?” Liam never knew that her warm green eyes could feel so cold. He felt a surge of anger build up inside his body at her spiteful, vindictive, words. Not knowing what to say at her accusatory tone, or even wanting to dignify it with a response, Liam released both of her arms with a growl, stiffly turned away and walked back to Abigael’s house, slamming the door behind him.
Gwynneth stared at the door as it slammed closed. Why did it feel like the door was slamming on her heart, on her future with Liam? Flinching at the feeling of emptiness flowing through her entire body, her loneness sank in. She couldn’t quite understand her intense reaction a moment ago. Perhaps she had known in that moment ending her relationship with Liam in an angry, even if manipulated, argument was better than looking into his loving eyes and telling him she could not marry him. She had to end it. Her heart would ache every moment of the rest her life, but she had to marry a king. Her father had failed, though he tried. She could not let his efforts be in vain.
She had survived one forced marriage because of this prophecy, she could survive another. Even if it meant never feeling completely whole again. Her recent memories of being held in Liam’s arms would simply have to be kept in a secret place within her heart, only for her to remember and cherish for the rest of her life. Liam was a strong, handsome man and though it made her want to wither up and die just thinking upon it, he would find another woman to love.
She had no husband, no parents, no babe…no Liam. Slowly turning around, she continued her walk toward King Garreth’s home, hoping to talk to Duncan. She needed answers.
Liam stormed into the house and glared at Abigail, and then at Ceara. Ceara had her hands propped up on her feminine hips as she tapped her foot on the floor in annoyance. “What?” She snapped in response to his impertinent staring. “I came to see Gwynneth. I had the strangest dream…” her voice trailed off as she looked sideways at her mother, wondering if Abigael already knew, as she so often did. “I came to speak to her, and you, about it…until Liam started staring at me so inappropriately.” She crossed her arms over her chest and continued to glare. “Beast. How dare you do that to Gwynn?”
His eyes narrowed at her dangerously. “Beast? What the…” he turned to Abigael, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Abigael! What’s going on? You have eyes. Tell me I’m not out of my mind!”
Feeling a trifle sorry Liam’s obvious befuddlement, Abigael shrugged and laughed, “Och, calm down, Ceara. Liam was not starring at you because he is a beast!” she winked at him playfully and continued, “he is starring at you because you look identical to Gwynneth!”
Liam threw his hands up even higher in a move of vindication. “But…WHY? What is going on here?” he looked back at Ceara, widening his eyes, waiting for her to give him some sort of answer.
Ceara’s mouth dropped and she looked back and forth between her mother and Liam, “What? But---I have red hair! She has blonde!” She was breathing heavily, thinking about her dream last night, wondering if it could be true.
“Aye, Ceara. You have different hair, and identical faces. I know you both had the same experience last night with Doran. It was not a dream.” Ceara’s silent, shocked face flushed as blood ran up her abashed cheeks. She felt as if she might swoon, and leaned against the wall with her head tilted up, struggling to breathe.
“Can someone inform me what is going on here?” Liam was exasperated and puffing with distress, Gwynneth’s red hand mark still persisting across his jaw.
“I will tell you everything. Ceara, please go back and fetch your sister.” Those words made Ceara do a double take at her mother. She just stood still, starring at her mother in shock.
“Is that why Garreth and Duncan starred daftly at us a few days ago?” Her voice was high, like a squeal, as she processed that thought. She and Gwynneth shared a face, because they were twin sisters. She shook with a chill and rubbed her hands along her arms.
Abigael put a hand on the long red sleeve of her daughter’s dress, “I think it will make most people stare at you daftly for a while. Now, the faster you retrieve Gwynneth, the sooner I can explain.” She looked sideways at Liam’s bewildered face and smirked, “and, the faster we can resolve her anger toward Liam.”
Wordlessly, Ceara turned stiffly to the door and left. She was going to fetch her sister. A surreal feeling flowed through her body, as if she were floating above herself, and she walked slowly to her house in a confused daze.
Liam was pacing back and forth in front of the fire rubbing his stubbly chin with one hand. “Are you going to fill me in?” He grumbled irritably, raising his eyebrows and glaring at Abigael.
She shrugged and smiled as she walked over to grab a bundle of yellow fabric that was tied with a bow of light blue string. She picked it up and held it in her arms as if it were a babe. “I will tell you everything…at the same time as I tell the sisters,” and she walked past him, placing the bundle on the table.
“Sisters? I have known Gwynneth her entire life. She has nay sister.” He kept pacing back and forth in front of the open door, waiting until Gwynneth came into view. He shivered as the wind blew into the house making the fire flicker. Abigael was silent, calmly sitting at the table drinking her tea. She fiddled with her hat strings, as if having a tidy hair was the most pressing problem on her mind. Her nonchalance was almost more aggravating to Liam than her lack of answers!
Liam saw movement in the distance and stopped pacing. He was staring intently at the two cloaked figures walking side by side, coming closer into view. Both were of identical height and build. One had rippling platinum blonde hair and the other was a fier
y red head. Their faces were completely identical: beaming green eyes, straight petite noses, high cheek bones, full red lips and, at the moment, matching pink cheeks. They were walking arm in arm against the wind, magnificent to behold, as if they were a force greater than nature itself coming his way.
Liam stood at the door, his dark blue eyes blazing at Gwynneth, his hands resting angrily on his hips, exuding a strong male aggression that made her almost weak in the knees. Even in his anger, he had the ability to make her tingle, remembering his strong body wrapped around hers just the night before.
She saw the still visible red streak along his cheek and had the decency to look ashamed. Showing no sign of forgiveness, he moved aside for Ceara to enter the warm house then moved his strong body back into the doorway, forming a barricade, preventing Gwynn from entering. Without looking at Liam, Gwynneth looked down at her fumbling hands and mumbled, “Sorry,” under her breath. Liam said nothing, but walked away from her and took a seat at the wooden table where Abigael and Ceara had settled. Gwynn shamefully followed in his wake, unsure if she should sit next to him or not.
Seeing her hesitation, Liam reached a strong arm out and hooked her around the waist, affectively pulling her down on to his lap and giving her just the hint of a smile as she looked at him shyly. She visually relaxed and nuzzled her body into his chest with a purr. His arms came around her as he kissed the top of her head and breathed deeply of her fragrant hair. He would never admit it, but Gwynneth’s jealous response, though infuriating at the time, had left him now in a state of arousal. If he could not have Gwynn in the moment, he needed to at least feel her body on his.
