 
A Queen's Tale

A Shadows of Avalon short story

By Jai Lefay

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Jai Lefay

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# Prologue

I sometimes wonder what the world would be like if we were not here, if the world were simply the place of the mortals that we walk amongst. It is a maudlin thought perhaps, but I have had a few drinks tonight and I am prone to the odd burst of emotion. My thoughts are turning to times that will come. It seems the wheels are turning and events are lining up that will lead to the future that my father foresaw. He is the leader of The Hunt; he knows when these shifts will come and the Hunt will ride again.

He is not the only Hunt. It would be foolish to think that he was but he is amongst the few that still remain, that still ride. All the leaders of the Hunts are brothers of sorts, and all have family as my father does. I have been asked if I am immortal. Perhaps part of my spirit is but I age, though not as rapidly as a normal mortal would. I was born in the normal way, and, I assume, conceived the normal way too. But like any child, it is not something I ever asked my parents.

My mother passed to the next world, or her next life, many years ago. My father wept over her body and I knew then that he had truly loved her; I was not born of some passing lust of a man who lives seemingly forever. It is comforting to know that, I think perhaps too few are conceived in love.

There goes that emotionality of the night for me again.

I have been reading tonight of what they say of my father, of the Hunt. There are many legends and none of them are entirely true. That is the nature of myth and legend; their purpose is not to be factual. There are always truths written into the tale and imaginings tied to the lesson.

I am the daughter of the Underworld. I am designed for death. This might seem rather depressing but everyone dies, everything dies, and every soul must move on. There is actually great honour to be found in being among those chosen to lead souls on to the next step of their journey. Luckily, I am not one of those who must take a soul from the wheel completely and condemn them to nothingness; that would depress me. I simply move souls on. The only stipulation is that I deal in violent death, most often from war, and from all accounts my task has never been lacking in souls. My father has me to other tasks at the moment as we prepare for what is to come. I am special and not needed to herd most souls to death, as I said, I am a specialist, and while there is plenty of violence and war to be had in this world, most of it is not of the nature I deal with, the Hunt does not ride yet.

I feel that maybe I have done this job before, maybe my soul returns to it now. I know this is not my first turn on the wheel, though so far I know of only one other life I have lived and that only in glimpses. I know enough to know that there are still lessons that I seem to need to learn. And perhaps there are souls that are still tied to me.

Of course I speak of Lance. But then again I do not speak of him. I still don't have the words to tell that part of my story, our story. Other than to say that I miss him more than words can really say and I can only hope one day to see him again. But I shan't hold my breath. To see Lance again will most likely bring another soul into the equation and I have no desire to see him again yet. We only ever bring each other the fiercest of pain and anger.

I seem to have shared more than I had planned. But that is the nature of alcohol; it helps loosen the tongue, free inhibition and remove filters. And Logan, my boss, has some very strong alcohol. This bottle was a gift for all the work I have been putting in since his father died, or should I say since his father was murdered. He didn't need to gift me the bottle but he is a good man, as is his sister, well a good woman in her case. They both carry blood on their soul but it does not make them wicked for it. Good people are found to do bad things, and bad people can do good things. The world is not black and white, no matter how much mankind might try to label and box it as so.

I talk like my father, it seems, when in my cups. Full of wisdom that I do not really have.

My father will clip my ears for that crack when I see him next. He sleeps for the moment, he and the Hunt, they rest within their hill and wait for the horn to sound and be called. He speaks to me though, he visits my dreams. I visit his sleeping place. The stones that sit atop the hill are like old friends to me now. He sleeps often as the years pass; he is the only one of the hunt who rises at all when they do not ride.

He has not risen since my mother died. I think her death took a part of him. I know he will move on from her, how could he not with the years that he will live, he will always carry her in his heart, but he will mourn her and live again. He must.

It is hard to go on in the loss of love, I know, but one finds a way to do it. It does not mean that you forget or you cease to miss that person or even cease to love them. You think on them still. You feel the pain of their loss but somehow you live each day to its fullest, you learn to not hide from life, you learn not to hide from moments of happiness, or pain. No matter how dark that hollow in your heart remains without... him.

I think I am most definitely drunk and I fear I will feel this in the morning.

I think next time Logan wishes to gift me something I shall ask him to make it a scarf, or a book. I think alcohol is not the best idea for me; I am something of a lightweight to his excellent whisky. It is worse, I think, when you drink alone and I mostly do. Unless you count Puck, but he tends to stick to his milk and water. He did try some of my beer once but turned his little kitty nose up at it highly unimpressed, but he so often is unimpressed with silly human things.

He was a gift from my father. I think perhaps he has something of the Tylwyth Teg in him for he is now nearing thirty years old and is still as spritely as he was at eight; no longer a kitten but still not an old and slow cat. He is my most constant companion as the acquaintances I make in the human world move on, or I move on from them to hide myself and hide my secret.

I think, in time, more of my secret may be revealed. There is more to my employers, Logan, Izzy and Roen, than most and I do not think they shall age as normal mortals, and I know Roen suspects or sees there is more to me. I do not think I will be able to hide my secret indefinitely but I will ease them into it. In time I will bring them into my confidences and in time they will bring me into theirs. I am sure of it.

****

# Chapter One

The pathway had once been a river bed before the earth had moved and the water had run a new course. Having been used as a pathway for years had compacted the river stones down but, as Gwyn was finding out, that did not mean that they were completely steady and locked in place, especially after the rain. After rainfall, the lower land turned into a muddy, sludge-like substance.

Gwyn fell over as a rock moved one way while her ankle went the other and her leg chose an uncomfortable third direction to travel in. A yelp of pain was followed by some colourful cursing as she went down. Gwyn could feel the backside of her khaki pants dampening from the wet ground as she sat and nursed her ankle.

It was still a bit tender when she stood and put her weight on it but it would carry her where she was headed and hopefully back again.

Hopefully.

This patch of wild forest was bordered by extensive and barely populated farm land. Most people preferred to live in more technologically friendly areas.

The strong ancient magic of this area played havoc with electronics to the point that there was little reason to even switch a device on. Thus no cell phone signal for Gwyn to even try to ring for a pick-up if her ankle decided it did not want to play ball with her plans.

Gwyn liked the fact that the area was not technology friendly. It made it a special place, more of a place of true power in a world that had forgotten and bulldozed over most of them. People tended not to visit here unless they truly appreciated the energy and the landscape. It was amazing how few people that was, and how many who might visit would not do so simply because they could not be without cell phone or internet connection for even the few hours that a stroll through this place could take. It meant that Gwyn could commune with her father in relative peace and any that stumbled upon her were generally the type to be pleasant and respectful.

The trees and bushes had grown up around the hill which contained the ancient spirit of the Hunt, hiding it from prying eyes. Stones of an ancient building that had long since fallen littered the top. The path to the top spiralled around the hill to its peak; a longer walk but an easier incline for Gwyn and her ankle.

She was nearing the end of the path when she heard the snoring. She creased a brow for a moment, bemused. The sleeping Hunt did not snore. She did not know if that was even possible given the metaphysical nature of their rest and, for that matter, their existence.

Gwyn's confusion cleared as she came to the top of the hill and saw the sleeping figure resting in the shade of the half collapsed stone wall. She knew the figure well and held no small measure of affection for him, so she had no qualms in knocking his crossed ankles apart to wake him up.

"Evening Myrddin."

"Morning sister."

It was a long running gag of sorts. No matter the time of the day the greeting between them always started with 'Evening' followed in reply by 'Morning'; especially when they had not seen each other in a while. Myrddin and Gwyn were not technically brother and sister but were tied in a similar bond as Children of the Wild Hunt and bonded as strongly as if it was blood. Myrddin was the child of prophecy much like Gwyn was the daughter of the underworld. Both were tied to the Hunt and to the events that were soon to unfold.

"What brings you here this fine afternoon?" Myrddin asked as he stretched out and tipped his hat back further off his face to look up at Gwyn.

"My feet bring me here... brought me here, though I am not sure they will take me back again so willingly." Gwyn lowered herself to the ground sighing as all the weight came off her ankle. She unlaced her sneaker and eased it off followed by her sock, wincing as she did so. The ankle was quite swollen now; the rest of the walk had not helped it much at all, it seemed.

"Other than your quest to torture your means of transportation, what brings you to the hilltop today?" Myrddin sat up as he spoke and retrieved the cloth bag that had been resting behind his head, or rather that his head had been resting on. From inside he pulled out a yellowed cloth that might once have been white. "Give me your foot, klutz."

"I always come here on this day," Gwyn replied, moving her foot into Myrddin's lap.

"Why this day?"

"It would have been my mother's birthday; I come to ease father's pain." Gwyn explained through gritted teeth as Myrddin began to poke and prod at her ankle. He moved it this way and that. "Would you cut that out? You don't know anything about healing."

"One does not need to be the child of Brighid to know how to check for a broken bone. I have been known in lives gone by to turn my hand to the healing arts from time to time. Oh and I am the child of Brighid too."

"I forget sometimes that this is far from your first incarnation."

"And it is far from yours." Myrddin replied not needing to acknowledge her roundabout attempt at an apology.

"I do not recall much bar glimpses from Blodwyn's life and no other."

"I recall Blodwyn, though my time with her was somewhat brief." Myrddin looked beyond Gwyn for a moment as if there was far more to his words than he was saying and he was contemplating if he should say more. He remained silent.

"You knew her...me?" Gwyn asked, an accusing tone lacing her reply. He had never mentioned before that he knew her in any prior life, even when she had spoken of her time with the ancient warriors.

"Souls do not often travel far from those they are bound to."

"And ours are so bound?" Gwyn asked hissing as Myrddin began to wrap her ankle with his discoloured cloth.

"I have salve at home I will apply when I take you back to share an evening meal. And in answer to your question, yes and no. Our souls have a small crossing of paths but we are both bound to the same souls. This is the closest we have been across our lives."

Gwyn sighed at Myrddin's words. She knew instinctively which of the souls he spoke of. They were the same two souls that had been weighing on her mind more lately, Lance and Adrian.

"This may be the first life you have ever looked so favourably on me." Myrddin laughed, running his hand over her foot affectionately. His touch was light enough that he could do so without hurting her.

"You think I look on you with any kind of favour or fondness?" Gwyn replied with a smile. "I cannot for the life of me think why I would not always be so fond of you and your bad habits."

"You did not always trust my actions for the greater good." Myrddin replied, still smiling but speaking seriously. "And I admit that my attitude towards the fairer sex has not always been so pleasant. I have been driven in many lives to disliking and distrusting your species."

"Would you tell me more of our lives?" Gwyn asked, leaning forward in an unconscious show of interest. She chose to ignore the jab at her 'species' knowing that her brother only did it to try and wind her up, as always. "I feel like sometimes I am the only one who does not remember these things. It doesn't really seem fair."

Myrddin leaned over and ruffled her hair, making Gwyn swat at his hand. "You are the youngest of us, Gwyn, memory takes time and often comes from triggers; triggers the souls you are bound to will give you. Those triggers are so much harder when you have driven many of those souls away from your side."

"I never..."

"Bollocks. You did and you know it. You drove them from your side in fear, most especially fear of the truths they made you face about yourself." Myrddin seemed far older than his form as he reprimanded her and Gwyn could almost see another version of him super imposed over his physical body. An old man, long hair and a beard that did not so much flow as fall in tangles from his scalp and face.

"You see... Triggers can happen at any time given the opportunity." Myrddin smiled, clearly aware of what she had seen, which helped Gwyn realise that she had not simply been imagining things. "You lament your solitary existence and yet it is of your own creation. I have watched you since you were a youngling Gwynnie and you have always pushed the souls tied to you most away from you. You ignore the triggers or fear them and you push those who create them away."

Gwyn wanted to be indignant at his words, to argue, but she knew that he spoke truth. It might hurt but that did not mean it was not true. She did lament her more solitary existence but she had hurt and pushed away all those she cared the most about except Myrddin.

"Have there been more than just them that I have pushed away?" The "them" that she spoke of was the two that she was most aware of, of Adrian and Lance, her ex-boyfriend and her ex-fiancé.

"There have, but opportunity will present itself once more. Even Logan and Isabel, to whom you now tie yourself to, have had parts in your story before. You would do well not to let yourself push them out of your life again."

A sneaking suspicion rose in Gwyn. "I might ask what brought you here today but your words do not seem by chance." He had the decency to look at least a little abashed by her assumption, one he did not need to confirm after that.

" _You will not always listen to me and though you do not in all lives see eye to eye, you have never doubted his wisdom or the truth of his harsh words before, my sweet Gwyn_."

Gwyn felt the stirring of her father in her mind; it was not often he spoke directly to her and without the aid of dreaming but it was always in this place when he did.

" _Come to know Myrddin better and know that your presence here eases the soul of an old man."_

" _Father you are not-"_ but his presence in her mind was gone before she could reply. It lingered in the energy of the area and that in itself was of comfort to Gwyn as she sat there in the afternoon sun. Myrddin smiled and was quiet as if he was aware of what was happening and Gwyn had no doubt that that was the case.

She was the youngest of the Wild Hunt and it seemed at times the youngest was always the weakest. She did not truly mind, she did not know that she even wanted more powers and more responsibilities. She kind of thought that she already had enough.

"You never did answer me whether you would tell me about my other lives, or at least the ones you know of and have been part of."

"I did not and I will not, at least not in the way you wish me too. But perhaps I shall spin a yarn here and there and you will find the truth behind the myth and legend and fairy tale. I have been known, in lives gone by, to be quite the orator. Perhaps I can regale you after dinner."

"I never agreed to dinner."

"You say that as if I gave you a choice in the matter." His old man visage seemed to fade as the teasing tone came back into his voice. It seemed the moment for great truths and wisdoms had passed and the Myrddin she was more familiar with had returned.

"So, you intend to kidnap a helpless damsel back to your abode and force her to eat your cooking and listen to your old man ramblings?"

"The cheek of youth today," Myrddin laughed and pinched her ankle, which still rested in his lap. Gwyn let out a noise, half scream, half squeak. "Cripes. I'm sorry, Gwyn. I forgot for a moment."

"That is to be expected." Gwyn drew in a slow breath. "In your advancing years."

Gwyn poked her tongue out and let her body sink back onto the ground, arm raised to shield her eyes from the sun as it sat three quarters of the way across the sky. The conversation deteriorated for awhile after that; to petty and juvenile taunts that had both laughing. It was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, Gwyn decided, in the company of a friend's laughter. The sun had already sunk and the ruins had become dark before Gwyn realised that time had moved on.

Gwyn knew the moon would rise soon over them. She had built-in instincts about the journeys of the sun and the moon, always simply knowing when it was the new moon, when the sun would rise, when high tide would be. It was occasionally a useful skill. Tonight the moon was waning but not yet dark and soon it would rise.

Myrddin helped her to her feet.

"Don't worry I'm not going to make you walk all the way to my home."

"I would hope not. Especially considering the only home of yours I know of is in Caerfyrddin," Gwyn said, using the welsh name for the town. "And that is one heck of a hike from here. Even without a sore foot, I very much doubt I'd make it there by dinner. Christmas dinner maybe."

"It is to that abode I wish to convey you now but I have cheating means."

Gwyn waited for Myrddin to explain but he did not say a word. Myrddin put his right hand in his pocket, his other arm was around her waist supporting her weight. The wind that was blowing across the hill died suddenly and light blinded Gwyn's eyes. She scrunched her eyes shut and then blinked them and as the brightness abated, she realised they were standing in his kitchen.

"Nice trick. How'd you manage that and when can I learn how to do it?"

"I'm afraid it isn't a magic I can teach you as I am the only one capable of doing it. Plus I can only return to this area." Myrddin helped her to the kitchen table as he spoke, pulling out a chair for her to sit on. He swung out another for her to rest her foot on. "Beyond that I'm not telling."

"Well fine then, play mister secretive." Gwyn replied laughing. She was not stupid though, she knew of Myrddin's soul ties to this area; his name gave it away in this life again. It was funny how the same names cropped up across the lives. There were always hints to whom they had been before. It was that thought that sparked something in Gwyn. She always simply thought about being named for her father Gwyn ap Nudd, but for the first time she really thought about it and the hints that had always been there. Gwyn, Lance, Myrddin, it all seemed so obvious... but Myrddin intruded on her thoughts before she could continue them.

"Perhaps while I cook dinner you can tell me what you remember of Blodwyn."

"I have fuzzy and random memories, like dreams, but I guess that's what memories are like." Gwyn fingered the edge of the table cloth as she spoke, bringing to mind the things she had seen that she simply knew were true and not some make believe fantasy her mind had concocted for entertainment or lesson.

"And those memories are?" Myrddin laughed as he started to raid the fridge. "I can't simply pick these things out of your head myself."

"Well that would save a lot of time if you could." Gwyn shared his laughter. She was not sure which memory to start with; she did not have a time line for them, well other than the ones where she was clearly a child. Memories which clearly were the ones that came before any adult memories. "I don't know where to begin."

"Start at the beginning and when you get to the end, stop." Myrddin replied, which only made Gwyn continue laughing.

"Thank you for the helpful advice, Mad Hatter."

"You're welcome. Now hurry up or I'll have dinner ready before you've even started."

"Pushy."

"Spill it." Myrddin growled playfully, pulling a large bowl out of the cupboard to the side of the sink.

"I remember being married and not to the man I loved. The man I married was angry and cruel to me always; as if he was punishing me for misdeeds I could not recall committing." Gwyn could almost see the glint in the man's eyes as she brought him to mind. He had always been so angry as if just the sight of her brought him to anger. He had been rough with her, taking what he wished for, as he was allowed, in those times, as her lord. From what Gwyn knew of those times it was not an uncommon thing, women were to be owned and used in much the same way as another beast, such as a horse. Although in the case of Blodwyn, her husband's horse might have been better treated and respected.

"You could not remember them, the misdeeds, and though his anger was in some measure warranted his actions were not. That was a lesson he had to learn, to let go of his hatred and anger and forgive."

"Did he?"

"That is not for me to say."

"You're annoying, you know that?"

"So I am told, often." Myrddin smiled. "Continue; I am sorry for interrupting."

"I remember being stolen away as a spoil of war. I remember the man who came for me, Bedwyr." She was not going into the details. She was not sure that Myrddin wanted details. He most likely knew more about it than she did. But those memories were so vivid in her head she did not need to think very hard to bring to mind the details for her own benefit; she could almost feel the ropes that had bound her as she had been taken. "I remember my time with a tribe of women warriors and I remember my escape. I remember finding him again with the priest, healing him with just my presence, the look in his eyes as he saw me again...I mean Bedwyr not the priest."

Blodwyn entered the room and saw Bedwyr on the bed, a pale shadow of himself, weak from the fever that had gripped him and for the soul sickness that now held him. "Bedwyr, my love, I'm here. Come back to me, come back to me." Her tears fell on him as she wept in fear and relief; relief that she had not yet lost him and fear that she might yet.

As that memory rose in her mind, she looked at Myrddin, she thought about the priest and the way he had acted, spoken, and a new suspicion rose. He had said he knew Blodwyn in passing... She looked at him and Myrddin sensing her gaze turned and winked.

"What else?"

"I remember my death and flashes of my childhood though they hardly seem that important compared to other memories."

"And how do you remember these things?"

Gwyn watched as Myrddin put together their dinner and she thought about the answer to his question. How did she remember? He kept working on dinner and did not push her for an answer, though from time to time he would glance back in her direction.

The cold roast ham he sliced looked so good that by the time the salad was completed Gwyn felt like she hadn't eaten for the better part of a month, she was so hungry. Everything was laid out on the table and Myrddin was sitting before she answered his question.

"Some things have come to me like day dreams, others like sudden memories rising in my mind. I remembered my time with the warrior woman the night that Lance and I first kissed. I always believed that his soul was the same as Bedwyr. That he was the one I kissed goodbye to save his life from the warrior women. I had never known such complete sorrow before I felt that memory. The grief she felt, I felt..." It was hard to know what pronoun to use, it was her and yet it was not, the memories, though strong, were still removed by time and death.

Blodwyn broke from her place beside the warrior woman and rushed to him, to her Bedwyr. She spun him around to face her and, pushing up on to her tip toes to bring her face to his, she kissed him. The kiss was to be their first, and their last, and would have to sustain them both until they could meet again in their next lives, if the Gods willed it.

Tears streaming down Blodwyn's cheeks, she whispered her confession of her love for him and pushed him away to continue his walk into the dark of the forest. Once he was lost from sight beyond the trees, she fell to her knees and keened for the life and love she had lost.

Just the stirring of that memory was almost overwhelming in the intensity of its emotion. Gwyn could see the ancient place, the trees at the edge of the village. She could see the man walking away; she could feel the loss, the regret, feel her heart breaking knowing he could not return for it would cost him his life which she was sending him away to save.

Gwyn snapped out of the memory as Myrddin laid his hand over hers.

"I did not mean to make you cry, Gwyn." She had not even noticed that she was crying until her brother pointed it out. However, it did not surprise her at all that she was.

"I always do when I remember that night. I guess because Lance is gone too and I know I am the one who caused him to leave."

"Eat. We can talk of other things until after dinner or you'll end up feeling sick. Emotion and food don't mix well."

"True." Gwyn could not help but agree with Myrddin, though he had been the one to start the conversation down this path. When she looked up into his eyes while taking a plate from his hand, she knew that he had known that the conversation would take this turn and he was sorry to have upset her.

Myrddin guided the conversation for the rest of the meal. They kept it as light as possible, the kind of conversations that normal people would have over dinner; harmless talk of movies and music, of work and world events. Myrddin was very interested in Gwyn's work, which was not surprising as it tied in with the Hunt, or so her father had told her.

Whitfield Industries, now in the hands of Logan and Isabel Whitfield, had a part to play in the days to come when the Wild Hunt would ride. It would be a time of great turbulence, war, and death; it was all to come and the Wild Hunt would ride. Gwyn would be called to aid the passing of the souls that fell to the Hunt. She was not sure what Myrddin's part was during the ride; she knew he had foreseen it or at least parts of it but his gifts seemed more passive.

Myrddin had been among those who had placed Gwyn where she was at Whitfield Industries so she would be among the story as it played out. Others were similarly placed; waiting, guiding, and watching. It had been a long time since the Hunt had ridden. The hounds had been out with her father on occasion but so many of the riders had slumbered for decades, since the last of the great wars had touched the planet.

There were still so many portents and events that had to happen before the Wild Hunt would ride in all its glory. It was not about the number of dead, nor the destruction. There were other factors that were at work to summon the Wild Hunt, and it was for some of those reasons that Gwyn and her fellow siblings of the Wild Hunt were in place doing as they were to ensure that the Wild Hunt would be called and would ride in all its dark splendour. It was an awesome sight to behold but by no means safe; innocents would become tangled within its effect.

Gwyn found she was talking with much affection about her new bosses and she sent up a silent prayer that they would not be among the ones to fall. Still, a silent prayer would do no good if their time on the wheel turned and they had to move on. It was not often that a story would be changed. However, it never hurt to send out the energy. One never knew who was listening and who would look kindly on such a request.

Gwyn, though she was caught up in prophecy and knew the Gods to be real, still did not believe that all things were destined and could not be changed. She was very fond of Logan and Izzy, and Izzy's husband Roen; they were all very kind to her and made her feel part of their world even if she was just a glorified secretary. Gwyn was sure that Roen, being that he was one of the Fae folk himself, had worked out that she was not exactly mortal but still treated her well and had not revealed her secret. Myrddin listened with interest as Gwyn talked about them all, about their lives; taking interest in the fact that Logan was away on a spiritual retreat and the kind of man that he was. Myrddin listened about the romance that had blossomed between Roen and Izzy and their forth coming nuptials so Izzy could inherit her part the company as per her father's will. Myrddin felt it most amusing to hear that, making jokes that Mr. Whitfield would be rolling in his grave had he known. Gwyn was not sure how Myrddin could pass such a judgement on her recently deceased boss, but his words were accurate.

Myrddin helped Gwyn to his sitting room after they had finished their dinner. Once he had settled her down on the couch, he excused himself for a few minutes. While he was gone, Gwyn looked around the room, finding very little had changed in the years since she had last visited him here. That visit had been not long after her father had returned to his sleep. The only real difference to the room was the slim silver laptop that sat on top of the large oak coffee table in the middle of the rug. Myrddin claimed he had made the table himself and the rough nature of it lent truth to his words. It was beautiful though, the way the grain of the wood caught the light.

Gwyn looked away from the table as Myrddin returned with two steaming cups held in one hand and a small round container in the other. He set the cups down on the table and Gwyn knew it was hot chocolate from the marshmallows floating in the top of each cup. Myrddin had something of a sweet tooth. He took the lid off the container as he stood beside her legs on the couch dropping it down onto the table top beside him. He then moved to lift her legs, bringing them into his lap once he sat down under them.

There had been something that Gwyn had thought of to ask Myrddin about while she had been eating but now it was simply gone from her mind. As she inhaled, trying to recall what her question had been, she caught various scents coming from the earthenware container in his hand. Beeswax was clearly the base for the salve and he had most likely made it himself. She was trying to place the other scents; she was never very good with anything other than the basics. She was pretty sure there was lavender, and something, maybe geranium; there was something culinary in there too but right now she could not place it at all. She wanted to say basil, but that did not seem quite right.

"You should not worry too much on the past, Gwynnie, and stop trying to overthink it all," Myrddin said, interrupting her assessment of the salve as he started to unwrap the cloth from her ankle. She smiled. No one had called her Gwynnie since she had been maybe eleven, until tonight.

"Thanks Uncle Merrie," Gwyn replied. She blinked as something familiar stirred, then she realised it was nothing overly deep or spiritual, just a reference to a series of books she had liked as a child. She was trying to see something in everything right now and there was no doubt that Gwyn was likely to exhaust herself and drive herself mad if she kept it up. That was exactly why Myrddin had just said what he had.

"It's hard. I'm curious by nature."

"And not overly patient." Myrddin chuckled, unwinding the last of the bandage from her foot.

"That too." Gwyn said. She could admit it. Patience was far from a strong virtue in her, which was all the more ironic for someone who had more time to live than most.

"Things will come in time and though the memories may aid you in some ways, they should not be allowed to overwhelm you in this life. Do not worry so much about what has happened before or you will miss the point of this existence. You are still going to learn the same lessons with or without that extra knowledge of the past. Well, hopefully learn those lessons." He winked at her as he dropped the cloth onto the ground beside the couch. He stuck his fingers into the salve, scooping out a generous amount and smearing it on her foot.

Gwyn let out a slow breath as he began to work it in. There were a few sensitive places but Myrddin was gentle. He massaged her whole foot and the lower part of her calf before he moved on to the other one. Gwyn was near purring before he changed feet.

"Don't get used to this either, Gwynnie."

"Oh no, now I know you can do this I will expect it every time I visit. That may become more often." Gwyn giggled.

"You don't have anything to blackmail me with into that kind of servitude." Myrddin chuckled, smoothing his hands down the length of her foot, fingertips working along each toe in turn.

"I'll find something." Gwyn let her eyes fall closed. This was so relaxing, she could not even remember the last time she had had her feet rubbed and like many women she had a weakness for it.

****

Gwyn sighed and became slowly aware of a funny feeling in her left arm. She tried to move it and had no idea if she was succeeding. Bright light burned beyond her eyelids. She blinked them finding sunlight, quickly she covered her face with her right arm. She realised in moving her right arm that the fuzzy left arm was in fact trapped between her body and a couch.

A couch?

Myrddin's couch.

She wiggled and rolled onto her back and after a few more moments lying there, realised that she had become so relaxed in Myrddin's foot massage that she had fallen asleep. She noticed there was a crocheted blanket over her and even a pillow under her head. Ever the gracious host, but Gwyn was slightly put out. She had wanted to talk more about her past. Gwyn wondered if Myrddin had drugged her to get her to sleep but when she thought on it she realised he would not have had to. Yesterday had been a long day; the plane ride from New York to London, the drive out to the forest, the trek up to the hilltop, and then once full on dinner and hot chocolate it would not have taken much to put her to sleep.

She jokingly cursed him aloud anyway.

"Now that isn't very nice at all, especially when I come bearing coffee and croissants." Myrddin replied coming into the room with a large tray in front of him.

"I could marry you right now. Foot rubs and a yummy breakfast, a girl could get used to this."

"Now I would know better than to try and lay a claim to you in any way, especially a permanent way like marriage. I like my head attached to my shoulders."

"I am single. I don't have some towering husband to come and knock your block off." Gwyn scoffed at Myrddin's words as her fingers wiped the remnants of sleep from her eyes. She yawned and stretched as he balanced the tray on the end of the coffee table. She watched him in the moments before her eyes automatically closed.

"No but I know of two men who would see fit to knock it off anyway." Myrddin replied, smiling as he set a plate and mug down beside her. He took his with him to a rather comfortable looking chair that was positioned in the stream of sunlight pouring in through the window. Gwyn realised that the curtain over the window had been shut last night so he had clearly opened it recently to wake her.

"Interesting thought," Gwyn shrugged. For two men who would hurt to retain a claim on her, Lance and Adrian did a bang up job of not being in her life. How could someone care about you and not want to be part of your life?

"Trust me on this. They both would fight for you."

"But they don't." Gwyn felt a familiar anger rise up in her. Yes she had pushed them both away, one had to be done, the other... well regardless neither had put up any fight to try and stay. Both men had gone, just walked away, left her and not looked back.

Lance... not a day went by that Gwyn did not miss him. She had lost count of how many times she had thought about reaching out to make contact with him again, everything had crossed her mind--emailing, texting, making a call, turning up on his doorstep. But she did not. She was of the opinion that if he wanted to be in her life, he would show it. He did not so he must not and no matter how much that hurt, it was just the way it was. Gwyn ripped her croissant up trying to block the feelings she did not want to deal with and she did not want to share.

"Easy on the croissant, Gwyn, it's an innocent in this." Myrddin said, his voice was soft and there was a teasing tone to it but there was more. Gwyn did not want to look at his face, knowing the pity it would hold.

"I can't speak for them, it isn't my place." Myrddin continued after they had been silent for nearly ten minutes. Gwyn still had not eaten any of the pastry in her hands.

"Then don't." Gwyn did not know why he had brought it up if he was just going to upset her and then cowardly back out of taking any responsibility for it. Talking about this always made her emotional, most often it sent her to sadness but sometimes, like now, the pain hurt too much to feel sorry for herself. She had to lash out and right now Myrddin was here to turn her anger on. It was not fair but emotions so often were not. Emotions did not follow logic, they followed the heart.

"Why are we talking about this?"

"Because you are all going to have to find some peace and work together."

"What?" Gwyn sat up at that comment. "I thought..."

"That they had been denied their place with the Hunt? They have served their punishment for that night and have received their Call. Both are now back where they are meant to be and your paths will begin to cross soon."

Gwyn was too stunned to even swear. Myrddin moved to her side and put his arm around her. She was stiff in his arms trying to process this news. Lance had been restored to the Hunt but he had not come back to her. It was like a punch in the face.

"I hope that in this life, maybe you three can untangle the web you wove that has tainted each life since. I hate seeing you all in pain and repeating that pain so often."

Gwyn just nodded in response. It was one thing to know that Lance was most likely not coming back to her; however, to know he could have and had not was another thing entirely. To know he had turned his back on her, and did not care, hurt. Hell, for all she knew he had probably moved on and loved someone else now. Gwyn could not breathe as she sat there. She started to feel her stomach knot; she felt sick, physically sick, at the thought of Lance touching someone else, wanting someone else. She could not bear the thought at all. And Myrddin was telling her that she was going to have to set that all aside to get the job done? She knew the fates had a strange sense of humour but this was cruel, this was a cruelty that Gwyn had hoped would not be turned on her ever again but there it was.

And what of Him? She was still so angry with him she refused to say his name. He who had been her first serious relationship, he who had loved her and then turned so cruel. And she had hurt him, she had been just as cruel and it had cost all three of them in the end.

"Come back to me, Gwyn."

Gwyn jerked physically as Myrddin spoke and drew her from her thoughts.

"This is why I was there last night; I was picked to be bearer of bad news. The same news I have already shared with them."

Gwyn wanted to ask how they took it, what was said, had they talked about her? But she did not for fear of what the answers might be. It was better to not know; it was easier to not know.

"When is your flight back?" Myrddin asked after she had been silent for longer still.

"I have to be there for check in and security by 4pm."

"We'll have to leave soon then. I've organised for your car to be picked up from the rest area where you left it, and I'll drive you. If we leave in half an hour, we won't end up stressing you out if the traffic locks up. I do not want to be stuck in a car with you running late ever again."

Gwyn found her laugh. "That guy had it coming."

"I don't think what you suggested is even physically possible."

"I would have paid good money for him to try it." Gwyn smiled and set aside her pain for a while more. She was good at that game of pretend, an expert. "Can I grab a shower before we go?"

"Towels are waiting on the basin for you. Just don't use up all my shampoo; I know how good it smells."

"I promise." Gwyn let him stand them both up and she impulsively hugged him. He hugged her back and his hug was firm and comforting. She could not remember the other lives where they had not gotten along but in this life they were family. He was one man she could always count on, one man who would not willingly bring her harm.

****

Myrddin sighed sadly as he heard the water in the bathroom turn on.

"She is going to be devastated if she finds out the rest of my prophecy."

A figure moved out of the dark corner, coming through the doorway that lead to the library.

"She cannot know one of us is to die. It would colour her judgement in all things, and we would risk her not being where she needs to be. I do not want her to know about it and we do not know which of us will die. Let her live in blissful ignorance and let us three guard the secret from her. We all wish to spare her pain."

"Spare her pain?" Myrddin turned on the man. "Did you not see the pain in her eyes? Your foolish pride and boyish games cause her nothing but pain and it is time you both realised that and learned your lessons. If you both truly love this woman then it is time to put all else aside and find peace within your trinity. For this may be your last chance."

"What does that mean, old man?"

"It means what I say it does. Gwyn may not be the one to send the soul on when it falls to the Hunt. There are others who will walk and work and with them, souls may not always return." Myrddin leaned on the chair and suddenly felt the weight of the old man he had been. "The fates do not give infinite chances to learn your karmic lessons and better yourselves, and you three have been stubborn enough thus far. It is time to heal this wound before you all bleed out. I, for one, cannot bear to be part of this story again."

"What am I meant to do then? How do I make this right?"

"If I knew that I would have told you lives ago. I wish I knew. You do not know how many hours of every life I have wasted trying to find out that answer from the first time onward but this is not my mess to clean up, it is you three and you can only do as you are guided by the voice inside you to do. Listen to it."

"Head or heart?"

"You ask foolish questions boy, you always have, you know the answer." Myrddin started to collect up the dishes. "You best go back to your room and hide before she comes back out and sees you. I don't think she could take that right now. None of us had realised the hurt she was carrying inside her; we should have realised sooner."

Myrddin worried for his sister; he had not seen her much in recent times and thus did not see how far the sadness in her went, how deep the wounds these two men had left in her ran. He had not realised how much she was hurting each day. It pained him to know she had been suffering alone. It pained him more that he could not take it from her. He looked up when his guest stopped in the doorway and spoke.

"I had forgotten how she lights up a room when she smiles."

Myrddin watched the man leave. He shook his head.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive," he said, his voice low so only he would hear.

****

Gwyn curled up in her seat in first class, she had refused Logan's offer of the private jet to fly home in but he would not hear of her flying coach, so she had plenty of room to stretch out here and relax for the flight back.

She was not tired; she just did not want to be awake as she sat there.

The hostess had stopped fussing over her and was finally leaving her in peace. Gwyn uncurled her fist and looked down at the necklace that Myrddin had given her just before she boarded. It was beautiful and he had said he hoped it would help as a trigger for her. Age had not tarnished the silver that formed the base of the pendant, an intricately designed flower formed by Celtic knot work and in the centre of it rested a beautiful clear amethyst. It was a stunning piece that looked more like it should be in a museum than on her neck but she had promised Myrddin she would wear it. She would once she was finished holding it. She was pretty sure it would not matter which part of her skin it was touching, palm or chest, it was still in her possession. The way the light caught the sides of the stone were mesmerising and Gwyn let herself be lulled by the dancing of the light as she moved the pendant around in her hand. It stilled her mind; thought fell away as if she was trying to go in to a state of meditation. She was calm and at peace. Serene. It was a nice feeling.

Myrddin had not said but she knew that this necklace had been made for her, well her soul, in a life long ago. She just could not remember what life it had been, who she had been, nor who it had been that had crafted such a beautiful gift for her. Gwyn guessed the pendant was not one of her earliest lives, it was too well crafted but still, that left a lot of time to work with a lot of potential lives. She wondered if it might trigger something on the flight back and she kept pushing her mind to try and remember something, visualise anything that might awaken something inside her but the more she pushed, the further that peaceful and serene feeling fled away from her. She kept at it, though, not wanting to let her mind have the chance to dwell on other thoughts that threatened her. She would not have to worry about having time to think once she returned to work.

Logan was away and that left more work on Gwyn's shoulders, which she was okay with. Logan had just lost his father and inherited a legacy; it would stand to reason that he would need some time to himself to get his head on. Gwyn was surprised that Izzy did not but she seemed resilient, there was much she had been through and she had come out the other side. She had different coping mechanisms than Logan. And having a partner to stand with her might help, not that Roen and Izzy had a normal sort of relationship but Gwyn could see they would not find anyone more perfect for each other. She was looking forward to their wedding; it promised to be an event.

Slowly her eyes drifted shut as she sat there and before she knew it she was dreaming.

Blowdyn looked up into the eyes of the stranger as his blade slid so easily into her belly. She did not know who this man was, lurking in the shadows of the temple, but from his face she could tell that he had not come here with the purpose of ending her life. He seemed as surprised as she was and he seemed so regretful. His eyes filled with horror at the act and the desire to undo his actions. She wished to give him words of comfort, even though she was in fact the one who was dying. But she could not draw a breath to find her voice.

She was cold, as if all the heat in her was seeping out with the blood. She wondered if she would see Bedwyr again in the afterlife. If he would join her in Tir na nog? If she would notice the wait for him, or if she would be reborn again?

_All these thoughts went through her head in the moments between the sword entering her body and the sound of footsteps approaching them. The footsteps hurrying towards them seemed so far away and even the face of this man seemed to be moving away, moving into a pin prick as everything around her changed. So this was death. It was not as she had imagined and not nearly as dramatic. It seemed she would simply drift away on a wave of breathless_ _pain. She hoped she would be blessed by the gods and in death find the love she had lost. If this was her destiny, then so be it. She had touched the lips of her love once, she had told him her heart and she would die knowing that he knew that she loved him_.

Gwyn looked out the window as they flew over the ocean, tears still resting on her cheeks. The image was fresh in her mind but rather than making her think about the past, it made her think of the future. Things were in motion and though it would be years yet before the Hunt rode, it seemed those years would be eventful just as it seemed the past had been.

It was an afterthought that she realised; her ankle had not hurt at all today.

****

# Chapter Two

Gwyn tapped her fingers against the keyboard, not hard enough for anything to be entered on the screen but just because she knew she should be working. She was bored and tapping her fingers at least gave the illusion she was working.

She was not bored because of a lack of work; with Logan away, she had more than enough work to keep her busy.

She always did.

It was simply that none of it held the slightest bit of interest for her and she just wanted to be gone from her office, from work, from the city. She had images of sitting in the forest somewhere with tall ancient trees all around her. She could imagine a stream nearby swirling down around boulders and low hanging branches. The image was distracting in its power and peacefulness but she would rather be there. She would rather be most places than here right now, well most places in nature.

Her mind kept turning to Lance. She had not been able to get him out of her head since she had returned from visiting her father's resting site and seeing Myrddin. She had managed to get herself to a good point prior to that trip, the point where she missed Lance but that missing him did not consume her, but now, now the thoughts were threatening to overwhelm her again. The truth of the matter was she was hurting about the fact that he could see her again but he had chosen not to.

"Gwyn?"

Hearing her name she looked up from her screen to see Izzy standing by her desk. Gwyn had not even heard Izzy come in, she had been so lost in her thoughts.

"What's going on? You look like someone just gutted your cat."

Izzy was always colourful in her language. Gwyn watched Izzy as she pushed the paperwork to one edge of the desk and sat herself down. Izzy turned to face Gwyn, running her fingers around the wedding band that Roen had put there just a few days earlier, eloping while Gwyn had been with Myrddin.

"Come on, spill it, sunshine."

Gwyn sighed.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing like that. I'm just thinking about my ex and having an insane desire to run away into the woods."

"So do it," Izzy replied. "Logan has."

"This isn't going to do itself." Gwyn retorted, waving a hand over her desk.

"The company isn't going to fall apart because you took off for the rest of the day, Gwyn. And if it does, well, tough titties." Izzy smiled at her. "Or you can tell me about this ex of yours, if you prefer. I love a good story and I know some people who could creatively dispose of him."

"Izzy, no!"

Gwyn was not sure if Izzy was serious or not, especially given the stories that Gwyn had heard about this woman.

"It's not like that. He broke my heart, but with good reason. I broke his first."

"And you want him back?"

"Yes, no...I don't know. He doesn't want me back so it doesn't matter."

"Oh." There was a whole heap of extra emphasis when Izzy said the single word, understanding the key emotion she conveyed in the syllable.

"He's getting married isn't he?"

"No." Gwyn shook her head, that might be better or worse, no worse, most definitely worse.

"He just doesn't want me back."

"Am I interrupting you dear ladies and your girly gossip?"

Gwyn looked up and saw Myrddin in the doorway. She was surprised at his sudden appearance and, yet, somehow not surprised at all.

"Is that him?" Izzy whispered to Gwyn before sliding off the desk to turn and face the newcomer.

Gwyn shook her head to say no.

"Well then, hello handsome."

"Down girl, you're married," Myrddin laughed, sizing her up just as intensely.

Gwyn smiled and rolled her eyes, it was like watching hyenas circling each other on a wildlife documentary.

"Oh I like him," Izzy grinned. "So if you're not the evil ex, I don't get to stab you. But I would still like an introduction."

"Stab me?" Myrddin raised an eyebrow.

Gwyn just remained silent; she wasn't getting a word in on this conversation anytime soon and she knew it.

"Honey, you can try and stab me if it'll make you happy but I'm a slippery bugger. And I'm her brother, name's Myrddin."

"Oh very Celtic. What did your parents have an Arthurian obsession or something?"

"You know your mythology. I like her." Myrddin winked over at Gwyn who just rolled her eyes again.

These two would be perfectly suited for a fabulous kind of friendship that would provide countless hours of entertainment for all watching. Gwyn wondered if they had already had one in another life. Something told her that they had, though she could not remember anything. It was just instinct that told her this was not the first time these two had interacted. Then she remembered that Myrddin had already said her path had crossed Izzy and Logan's before so it made sense that his had too.

"I'm very likeable, lickable too." Izzy grinned and winked gratuitously in Myrddin's direction earning a chuckle.

"And how quickly would I lose my tongue via your husband Roen if I were to lick you."

"Potentially very quickly," Izzy laughed. "But it might be fun to find out."

"Being around you sounds dangerous." Myrddin moved in on Izzy pinning her against Gwyn's desk.

Gwyn closed her eyes with a quiet groan. She was sixteen again and waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her. What was it about family that delighted in embarrassing each other to death?

"Please don't start going at it on my desk."

Both Izzy and Myrddin laughed tilting their heads to look at her almost as if they were choreographed.

"You know me better than that, Gwyn," Myrddin said and licked Izzy's cheek, backing off with a laugh.

"Oh I know you very well, Myrddin, and it would not surprise me at all," Gwyn replied, sighing dramatically before she continued. "Why are you here, other than to provide a floor show with my boss?"

"Well of course I wanted to meet the infamous Izzy again." He grinned and mocked a bow toward Izzy who did a crooked curtsey by way of a reply.

"Wait, again? I hate to break your heart sunshine but if we've met before I've forgotten."

"Death will do that sweetheart." Myrddin laughed and crossed to the couch by the wall. He sat down.

"Death?" Izzy looked startled.

"He means you knew him in a past life," Gwyn explained.

Gwyn leaned back in her chair. Time to freak out the boss it seemed. But she was not going to be the one telling the story if Myrddin had charmingly decided that he had to come and burst Gwyn's easy little world.

"I wonder which one," Izzy replied.

Gwyn nearly fell off her chair. Izzy believed? She did not question it? Really Gwyn should have known better, Izzy and Logan had both spent time in India and Tibet and various other locations on something of a more spiritual pilgrimage. That Izzy should believe in reincarnation should not surprise her at all. However she was so used to the normal mortal mind that failed to grasp such concepts that when someone believed and without any convincing, it surprised her.

"You know some of them?" Myrddin leaned forward, a more serious look on his face.

"I have not spent as much time as my brother with shamans, mystics, yogis, priests and other spiritual people but I have spent enough that past life regeneration is a normal term in my vocabulary." Izzy replied eyeing Myrddin a little warily. "Why?"

"There is coming a time when it might be best for you to know those lives." Myrddin replied and then his body language changed.

The tension slipped away, the philosopher was gone again in place of the clown. There was clearly a reason he was born under the astrological sign of Sagittarius in Gwyn's opinion.

"And the other reason you are here?" Gwyn asked before Izzy could reply.

She was not ready to have this talk yet. She wanted Logan here for it too but he was on his trip in the middle of the forest and did not want to be disturbed except in the case of fire, murder or arrest. He had looked at Izzy when he had said that at the time. Logan did not even know yet that his sister had run off and eloped while he had been gone. Gwyn thought it was all pretty romantic really. She frowned as the thought led her to Lance and the fact that she was most likely never going to be getting married, traditional or not.

"I wanted to invite you out to dinner with us."

"Us?" Gwyn could feel her chest constricting and he had not even hinted anything about who else was with him. It could be a lot of people but somehow she knew.

"The big black bear and his foster brother are with me."

He said it so weirdly that she wanted to fly across the desk and hit that smile off his face. He was toying with her and he was enjoying it. As if she would not know who the big black bear was, or his foster brother. Adrian and Lance were with him; her exes. Her exes were in town and Myrddin wanted to take them all out to dinner. Or was it he just wanted their reunion to be in front of witnesses to try and prevent bloodshed and drama?

"And they are code for? Or is this above my security clearance, double O hotness?" Izzy was making light of it but Gwyn could tell she was not just asking to be silly or anything, she was trying to assess the situation. Gwyn smiled; it was nice that Izzy had her back.

"The big black bear is Adrian, my ex-boyfriend, and Lance, his foster brother, is my ex-fiancé." Gwyn replied in a quiet voice.

"You some kind of sadist, sunshine?" Izzy frowned at Myrddin.

Gwyn could see Izzy's fingers on her thigh, Gwyn knew that Izzy's knives were always there and it was kind of nice that Izzy was being protective of her, unnecessary but nice. She watched as Izzy stroked at her thigh and waited for a reply.

"Not at all, sweetheart, but they have to get this over with. There are bigger things ahead." He looked from Gwyn to Izzy and back again, no sign of the clown now. "They need to make peace; for all of our sakes."

****

Adrian sat on the couch watching Lance at the window. It was a strange place they had come to. It had taken Adrian ending up in traction to get his head in check. Lifetimes of issues perhaps finally sorted. He had forgiven himself, forgiven Lance and finally forgiven Gwyn. It did not mean he was over it all, he was still hurt, still loved Gwyn in a way, but he had finally, maybe, accepted it was not his side she was meant to be at, that he had hurt her more than she had ever hurt him.

Honestly he was ashamed of the shit he had pulled in this life and especially in the others. Bloody hell, what kind of man treats a woman that way? Adian did not know if she was going to agree to come to dinner, but he was ready to make peace with her. He had been for a while but it hadn't been time; she had not been ready for it but no one had realised just what she was going through until Myrddin had seen her. She was breaking down inside and she was not going to be any good to herself, let alone the Hunt, unless she got her power and strength back and the truth was that as much power as she had with him, she had more with Lance, in almost every life.

It was time for her to be awakened and become the woman she was meant to be. Adrian could not destroy her again in this life as he had tried to do in others. She was always meant to be with Lance, not him, and now, finally, in this life Adrian could accept that and move on. Maybe, one day, even find the soul that he was meant for, the one that had always been there.

"I don't know if I can do it."

Adrian looked up at the comment, his large dark skinned hand smoothing against the contrasting cream fabric of the chair. His eyes watched Lance's form as his foster brother fidgeted with the drapes that hung against the window. Adrian could hear Lance's uneven breathing; the guy was clearly nearing a panic attack at the thought of Gwyn, of seeing her tonight.

"Relax, man, you don't even know she's going to agree to see us yet. Honestly, my money is on a big hell no and I can't say I blame her much given the shit we both pulled. Valid or not." He held up a hand to silence the protest that Lance may or may not start. "You can't deny we both screwed her over in our own ways, regardless of what she did, all she did was follow her heart and then lose confidence in herself. And that's my fault. I started her down that path and I doubt she's going to come to dinner tonight, but it's the first step, the olive branch. You heard Myrddin. We just have to keep at it until she agrees, in her own time."

"I know, I know! God all right already," Lance growled. His tall frame was silhouetted as he pulled back the curtain and the motion light outside lit him up in the dimmer interior of the room. "What if she hates me?"

"If she hates you she hates you and we work with it." Adrian did not believe in sugar coating and lies; he shot straight from the hip, always had. "And if she still loves you, we'll all have to deal with that."

"And if she still loves you?" Lance was not trying to be argumentative, he was just wound tight, scared.

"I'm not going to lie, Lance. If she still loved me, I'd be there like a shot but I already know she doesn't. She will still love me, always love me, we'll always be bound but she won't be in love with me. She hasn't been for a long time and never like she is with you. It's taken me a long time to deal with that fact, centuries in fact because everyone is meant to bloody love me." Adrian chuckled, settling back into the chair.

Lance huffed at him; they'd known each other since they were boys and Adrian's mother had taken Lance in. Though, because of their shared feelings for the same woman, they had stopped talking for a long while. They were always brothers and now that they had made their peace with each other, that bond was back to the way it was meant to be.

Adrian started forward in his chair as the door opened behind him; Lance dropped the curtain, turning almost in sync. An unsurprised, yet saddened, sigh rumbled from Adrian's lips as Myrddin entered alone.

"She wouldn't come."

"Not yet."

Myrddin saw the look on Lance's face as it fell, he wished he could tell him the words he had overheard, the heartbreak when Gwyn spoke that Lance no longer wanted her but he could not. Lance needed to do this for the right reasons, not out of some vague hope that he might win her back. He needed to want to make peace with Gwyn for his own sake and for hers and not just for the hope of love, as powerful as that hope should be in the case of them, there was more at stake than just love. When the war came they would need to stand together, no matter where their hearts lay.

"She couldn't do it. I could see how confused and conflicted she was by my request; she wanted to say yes but she is still too fragile. She couldn't bring herself to do it. So we will continue on as we must and we will try again and again. I have a plan, never fear." Myrddin tucked his thumbs into his jacket and gave the two a charming, one might say cocky, smile. "Familiar souls to us all are with her already and through them I think we can begin to awaken her and heal her and return her to us. She does not even know how far she is gone from us; the pain inside her blinds her too much."

"I'm going for a walk." Lance stalked from the room, fists balled right, back rigid.

Adrian stood to follow but Myrddin laid a hand against his chest.

"Let your brother go, he needs to work through this, we cannot always be there for him."

Adrian relented to Myrddin's counsel, as he so often did, and let his brother go and cool off in the evening air. Myrddin gestured for Aidan to sit down again.

"You and I need to talk; it might be time for Logan to renew old acquaintances too."

****

"Your brother doesn't look much like you." Izzy said as she settled Gwyn down onto the couch back at the house.

Izzy and Logan were living in their family home since her father's death. Izzy tried not to think about that, and in truth she could not really. She had been there, been in the room when he was stabbed to death but whatever they had done to her she remembered nothing except waking up screaming to find her father dead in front of her.

"He's not my birth brother. It's complicated, but he is family." Gwyn replied.

"I like him." Izzy grinned.

"I got that." Gwyn smiled weakly as Izzy handed her a small glass of golden liquid, the smell of Irish whiskey greeting her senses and reminding her to not drink too much of Logan's good whiskey this time. "He's kind of impossible not to adore and he sure knows it."

"I got that." Izzy replied with a laugh, repeating Gwyn's own words. "Are you sure you don't want to change your mind and go to dinner?"

"No, I don't think I can." Gwyn sipped her whiskey to distract her body from any desire it might have to cry. She was struck by the absurdity of all this, she was sitting almost in tears in the home of her boss, her boss who happened to head some of the biggest companies in the country. And it seemed comfortable and normal.

"So sunshine, what did your brother mean about us and past lives?" Izzy tactfully changed the subject. She knew what it was like to not want to talk about a painful love life; she used to be the queen at it until Roen had broken through everything and made her discover that love could be real and not conventional at best or fake and abusing at worst.

"I don't know, when I was over there the other day, he mentioned that you and Logan and I were bound by past lives. But you'll learn something about Myrddin; he's cryptic and annoying and he loves it, so I don't know anything more than that. But he wants me to remember, he wants me to let myself remember and I feel so strange talking to you about this but not strange."

Izzy laughed.

"Sunshine my whole life is one whole big dance of strange but not strange. But I take it that means that you don't know how we knew each other before then?"

"Not a clue. I have some memories from different lives, snippets really, but I've never taken the time to look closer at them, to devote the time to doing any regression work. I know my exes have, after the whole debacle a few years ago; they've both devoted themselves more to their studies. Myrddin thought telling me might encourage me to do so. Kind of didn't work."

And the conversation had come around full circle again. Izzy reached over and pinched her leg when Gwyn went quiet, lost in her thoughts, staring at the remains of the whisky in her glass.

"Come on sweetheart, no more talking then. We are going out and we are going dancing. Somewhere too loud to even think or talk and when you reach the point of talking, I'll teach you all my tricks. Just call me mistress and I shall teach you everything I know."

"Mistress?" Gwyn looked at Izzy and blinked, wondering.

The only life she remembered was Blodwyn and there had been a strong warrior woman who had taken Blodwyn under her wing, protected her, and fought to restore her to Bedwyr. She had taught Blodwyn to be strong like her and Blodwyn had called that woman Mistress. But before Gwyn could think on it more, Izzy was dragging her out the door to find some harmless fun to distract her.

****

Gwyn had suffered a severe hang over after being out with Izzy and now four days later she was working on acquiring another one.

"Gwyn, what the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark? You've been called to work." Myrrdin growled.

"Don't care." Petulant yes, Gwyn knew this. She was throwing a tantrum. She just hadn't bothered with the flailing limbs and had skipped straight to the sullen _I'm not coming out of my room ever and I hate you_ phase.

"What do you mean you don't care? You are just going to condemn the soul because you're feeling like being a madam?"

"Pretty much."

Gwyn still did not raise her head to look at Myrddin. She knew what she would see: long fringe falling into his eyes which would show both his amusement at her behaviour and how truly unamused he was by her ignoring her duties. He was right, there was a soul that needed to be ushered on to the next part of its journey and Gwyn was sitting grumbling on her couch still upset that Myrddin had asked her to dinner with Adrian and Lance, even though it had been days since he had done it. Still upset by how they had treated her and still stubbornly not wanting to be the person to reach out and take the meagre olive branch that Myrddin had offered in some strange attempt to reconcile his sister with her two exes because The Hunt required them to work together.

"Gwyn that is hardly..." Myrddin paused and sniffed at the air. "What is that smell?"

"The spilled drink or the blood?"

Myrddin startled visibly at her reply.

"Blood? What on earth have you been doing here in the dark?"

"I dropped my glass."

"And punctured an artery? The smell is strong."

"I might have played around with the cut and made it bleed more than it might have." Gwyn sighed. The tears were coming again, _stupid tears._ Had she not shed enough for those two stubborn assholes? How much did they want her to suffer?

"Gwyn." Myrddin sounded exasperated and more than a little like an older brother than he ever usually did. "Gwynnie, this has got to stop. You can't keep moping about like this and self-destructing. You should have come to dinner."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda, didn't." Gwyn replied.

"Brighid help me, I'm talking to a six year old." Myrddin growled.

Sometimes he was the patient old man and other times he was the cantankerous old man, for all that he was just a few years older than Gwyn. He flicked the light on and Gwyn groaned pushing one of the couch cushions against her face to block out the sudden intrusion.

"The light, it burns."

"Oh shut your face." Myrddin pulled the pillow from her grip. "You're getting blood on that. I'll get Adrian to take care of the soul. You have a date with Logan tomorrow and I'm not taking another 'no' from you unless you want to shift your arse and go and do the job that you were chosen for."

He was not gentle as he pulled her arm out straight in front of him and inspected her hand and the wound across her palm.

"Am I going to be playing doctor to you every five minutes? First your feet and now this."

Gwyn gave him a half smile. He was right, they had not seen each other much in the years before and now twice in a matter of weeks, or was it just days, he was tending her injuries. He was right, though; she was acting like a child, but she just did not have it in her to keep dealing with everything like a rational adult. She had beaten herself up over Lance and Adrian a million and one times, she had missed them both, she had hated them both, she had cried for them both. And Lance...Lance, she had cursed so many times. Adrian might have hurt her but Lance, Lance had nearly destroyed her and she wanted him back and she missed him and he had just walked away and forgotten her and the pain of that, it destroyed her every single time she thought about it; which was a lot. So was it surprising that she was pitching a hissy fit, knowing he was in town and still so far away? She could not face him at dinner; it would be written all over her face how she felt and it would hurt so much to see how little he cared now. She still loved him as much as she had when it had all fallen apart. She missed him so bad it hurt and drinking Logan's whisky and being a brat was about all she had left in her to do.

"Wait, what do you mean I have a date with Logan? I don't like him like that, and didn't he meet someone when he was away?"

Best to focus on something she could talk about without the gross sobbing again. Logan was handsome, he was rich and he was a wonderful man and he was easily the kind of guy that any girl could fall for. However, Gwyn did not have room in her heart for anyone else in a romantic sense. She had been in love with Adrian and she was still completely in love with Lance. And Logan had cut short his trip to the forest and returned home yesterday with a beautiful woman who he had found in the forest.

"It's not a date like that, pet. I want him to work with you on your meditation. You need something to take control of yourself again, Gwyn; you're woefully close to having some kind of breakdown and we both know that there is too much coming for you to be some catatonic mess who wastes a good glass of whisky and a pint of blood."

Gwyn grumbled.

Myrddin was right.

As always.

****

# Chapter Three

Gwyn sat in the park, her back resting against the trunk of a pine tree. The lunchtime sun was pleasantly warm on her skin. The ducklings by the lake were cute little balls of fluff trailing after mama duck who did not want them getting too close to the big scary human woman, even if the scary human did offer crusts of fresh bread. Gwyn could not blame the duck really; she would keep away from humans too if she could. Rotten creatures.

Gwyn sighed. The anger that festered inside her was just so unfamiliar. Lately everything was annoying her; little things that should not even register were making her turn murderous. Anger seemed an easier emotion to cling to than the others that were plaguing her during this last week or so.

She was supposed to be meeting Logan at his home in an hour. She was trying to think of reasons not to go but she had no reasons, only excuses, and as angry as Gwyn was with the world she did not want to annoy and alienate the people that did remain in her life, few as they were.

What Gwyn really wanted to do was to head off back to her father's hill and find some measure of calm again.

Gwyn snorted a laugh.

That was exactly what Myrddin wanted.

He wanted her to work with Logan and find her inner peace, something she had completely lost for the moment. She never felt calm. She felt restless, depressed, or flat out homicidal. The closest she had come to any calm was holding her necklace while on the plane, but she was wearing it now and it did not seem to be helping much. She needed to find calm and yet she was finding excuses not to. She knew she was not the brightest crayon in the box sometimes.

The final scraps of bread from her lunch went flying towards the ducks; a few chunks landed in the lake behind them, floating in the water to be drawn into the wake of the water wheel. Gwyn watched them float caught in the ripple of the water. Gwyn felt like that sometimes, that she was a piece of bread, soaked by the water and carried by it with no control. Only the water for her was fate and she was a puppet, not a crust of bread. Less of a puppet than some though. Gwyn at least knew who she was, what she was. She knew what was playing out behind the scenes of the world, what the rest of the population was blissfully unaware of. Gwyn was a woman of power, a soul of legend and she was disgracing herself by being caught in this emotional angst against the world and everyone she loved in it.

Gwyn pushed herself to her feet and turned her back on the ducks, the bread, and the thoughts that plagued her.

She would go to Logan and let him help her. She would start facing her thoughts, her problems, and finally her exes. They were, after all, the main source of her angst. She had to face them and find some way to get over it all, get over Lance. They had duties and they had to work together. Gwyn would not be the one to let everyone down because she could not deal with her broken heart, the broken heart she had caused herself.

****

Gwyn sat cross legged in the afternoon sun that spilled through the glass sliding door into the study.

"Breathe deeply." Logan sat in front of her, his hands resting on her knees. "Breathe with me, match my breath."

"I can't see your breathing with my eyes closed." Gwyn replied, a smile twitching at her mouth.

"Why do my women always have to ride me with pedantic mocking?"

"First of all, I am not your woman, Logan. And you can refer to point one for why I can say I have never ridden you in any manner."

The smile broke through but Gwyn kept her eyes shut and tried not to laugh as Logan growled at her, his hands squeezing her knees.

"I think I preferred you when you did everything I said without argument, Ms. Asher." Logan replied but Gwyn could hear that he was grinning.

He took a hand from her knee and guided her hand to rest on his chest. His skin felt smooth beneath her hand and she could now feel the rise and fall of his chest.

"Now, Madam Difficult, you can match my breath with no further argument."

He took a deep breath, which she matched, slowly finding the rhythm to his. A ripple of sensation ran down from her neck all the way to her toes, leaving her feeling energised and prickly. A second wave followed and then a third. She found her awareness moving to a point inside her mind. She did as Logan had already told her; visualising the eye in her forehead and pushing through it, beyond it. There was a kaleidoscope of colour and light swirling in front of her eyes even though they were shut. She kept focusing on the breathing and pushing her mind forward. Her consciousness slowly slipped away without her knowing and she did not notice the moment things changed.

She was still sitting in the same position but when she opened her eyes, she discovered she was not in Logan's home anymore. He was still sitting in front of her but was not dressed as he had been; his garb was from hundreds of years earlier- many hundreds- and her hand rested now against fabric instead of his skin. Looking down, she noted that her own clothing had changed and matched his for the era; a beautiful dress, richly embroidered with intricate patterns. It would have taken so long to create this dress.

Logan stood, took her hand, and helped her to stand. She brushed the grass from her dress, noticing for the first time that they were in long wild grass, and in the distance there was a cottage- if cottage could be used to describe the building, shack maybe? It was not a flash dwelling, nor perhaps even that well-constructed but it was difficult to be sure from this distance.

"Where are we?"

"I have no idea; I'm here to aid you, not to guide you. This is your meditation; you've simply let me tag along." Logan was playing with the sword at his hip, clearly tempted to unsheathe it and swing it around.

"You are such a boy." Gwyn laughed. "Go on, swing it around."

Logan gave her an impish grin and pulled the sword free. He moved it around with great skill, as if he had always had this sword, knew exactly its balance and weight and was well practiced in the art of swordplay.

"You're a natural."

"I've not touched a sword in a long time but this is more than just some lessons. This sword feels like it is mine and I know just how to use it, far more than I actually do."

He smiled, sheathed the sword and looked around.

"So do we head to the hut, since it's the only discernible landmark currently? Trust you to plonk us in the middle of nowhere."

He turned back to her and bowed low, grinning back up at her before he offered his arm to her in a true gentlemanly gesture. With a brief curtsey she took it, curling her hand around his upper arm. They headed toward the hut and something began to seem familiar to her as they walked. She chewed on her tongue as they approached; trying to work out why the hut, this place, suddenly seemed like somewhere she had been before.

"I know this place, Logan."

Gwyn began to move faster, dropping his arm to lift her skirts so she could run without becoming tangled and falling.

She moved at a fast pace and Logan had to sprint to catch up to her, once he registered that she had run off. He had been getting lost in his own thoughts; he was not sure if it was just his link to her in this place but it seemed familiar to him as well. He caught up to her and kept pace as they approached the little hut.

A weary looking horse grazed near the building, clearly a noble beast, it did not match the building. It was saddled still as it grazed. Everything about the beast and its adornments suggested that it was owned by someone with power and money; it seemed strange that it would be outside what looked like the dwelling of someone who, for lack of a better word, seemed poor.

Gwyn approached the hut, with Logan at her side, and made to push against the door to open it. Instead she found herself moving straight through it. That was unusual for meditation, usually she was as corporeal as in the waking world but not this time it seemed. Perhaps it was Logan's presence that made this meditation different. Gwyn did not take the time to dwell on it further as her eyes fell on the two occupants of this house. Though they looked different, she knew who they were. She looked at Logan, who had followed her in; his face mirrored her own amazement.

"That's..."

"Shhh." Gwyn put her hand on Logan's arm making him fall silent.

On the bed lay a woman, her long golden hair spilling out from her head on the makeshift bedding of clothing and cloak. Her legs and feet were cut up, her dress was raised to show them and the man kneeling beside her tended to the wounds. She did not scream, though they were painful; it was clear the pain had pushed her beyond the point of registering it any longer. Her lips moved, mumbling words Gwyn could not hear.

"Hush, hush, he will bring help soon. He will not leave you to suffer." The man spoke in a soft and gentle tone.

Gwyn realised that the man had similar wounds to the woman's. Gwyn's hand fluttered up to her mouth to cover her gasp as she realised that the strange thing resting on his leg was, in fact, not resting on his leg but coming from within it His leg was broken near the ankle and the bone had broken through the skin. He must have been in great pain and yet he tended to her with such gentleness and whispered these promises of rescue to keep her conscious.

"Gwaine." The woman spoke his name softly and he pulled himself along the floor to be closer to her.

"Do not speak, fair Guinevere. Save your strength."

"You must tell him if he is too late..."

"No, my Queen, he will not be too late." Gwaine's voice wavered and it seemed he was not convinced of his own words.

"Please, you must tell him, he must know. I did not give in. I was strong for them. I did not give myself to him willingly, I did... I did not... not willingly." Tears pooled and spilled from her eyes, down her cheeks. Some tears fell from her face into her lovely golden hair. Her tears were met with his own as he tried to comfort her and himself.

Gwyn could not watch anymore as memory began to stream back to her; a long forgotten life that had become all too real to her in this moment. She rushed from the building; her ghost-like form moving through the wall and back out into the field. She dropped to the dirt, not registering that outside of the hut- away from her former self- she had form again and the dirt was staining her dress.

"Did you know?" She asked as she saw Logan's feet come into view.

"I had..." He replied.

Gwyn looked up as Logan fell silent.

"You had?"

"I had no idea." He finished turning his head back from the hut and kneeled beside her in the dirt. His eyes looked a little wild around the edges.

"I knew I had lived before, I had been given small parts of my stories but never like this, not ever like this." He took Gwyn's hand in his and kissed her knuckles. "My Queen."

"I've gone from your Queen, to your workhorse. I thought we were meant to move up in the world with each life." Gwyn pushed him away with a half laugh, cheeks rosy embarrassed by the gesture of him kissing her hand. She joked trying to make light of the situation as the memories continued to rush at her like a tsunami.

"I did." Logan laughed. The laughter was good, it lightened the mood. "This is not quite as the story I know."

"I know versions of this, but now I know what happened." The colour drained from her face as she reflected on what she now knew.

"I know the story too, the rape of Guinevere." Logan looked horrified with himself the moment that the words came out. "Did he? Is that what you were telling me in there, that he took you against your will?" Logan was struggling to keep track of the two lives and separate them as snippets of memory came back to him but not enough to make the picture complete. He knew who had gone for help- Bedievere, sometimes known as Lancelot, the King's closest friend and protector of the Queen. They had found the Queen; they had saved her from the terrible lord who had stolen her away. All three sustaining injury in the traps that had been laid to stop any from approaching or leaving the island that she had been held on. Bedievere had gone for Arthur, for Merlin, though their names were not exactly that.

"Myrddin." Logan breathed out the word knowing now why her brother had seemed so familiar and trustworthy to Logan instantly. They had known each other before and Logan had trusted him then- and did now.

"I think, I think it best we go from this place before I re-live this pain further." Gwyn looked around the wide and wild field of grass and the woods beyond it. "How do we get back?" She was suddenly terrified that they could not get out of here. She had never been in a meditation like this; this was more than a simple meditation.

"Here." Logan sat down cross legged in front of her again, with some adjusting of his sword. She followed suit moving from her knees onto her backside, crossing her legs over in front of her, her knees just resting against Logan's as they had when they were sitting in the study of his home.

"Just like when we came here." Logan smiled at Gwyn looking so confident while he spoke that she felt some of her panic subside. He took her hand and placed it on his chest again and then rested his hands on her knees as they had been. "Close your eyes and match my breathing again. Just like any other meditation exit you normally do."

Gwyn did as he asked. She closed her eyes and focused on her chest and the rise and fall with every breath to match Logan's. She visualised the dark tunnel in her mind that she had to climb to return home. She imagined herself doing just that, climbing higher and higher toward the light at the top.

A tremble ran through her and she opened her eyes back in Logan's study. His eyes opened and they just sat there staring at each other, each unsure what to say, unable to sort their thoughts enough to even begin to speak. Logan moved as tears welled up in Gwyn's eyes again and he pulled her into his lap locking his arms around her.

"You don't have to talk about it. I don't think I ever knew exactly what happened then, I don't need to know now if you don't want me to." He felt sick. Izzy, Gwyn... How could men do that to a woman, especially these women? He wanted to hurt someone but there was no one to hurt. The man whose name escaped Logan still, Ma...something...was long dead and could not be re-killed.

Could he?

And then in a moment of clarity, Logan knew just who that soul was.

It was not men who did such horrible things. It was _a_ man, singular. The same soul who had nearly destroyed Izzy in this life had hurt a Queen in another. Scott Sanderson was a dead man. He just did not know it yet. Logan hated Scott for using his sister when she had been so young, breaking her heart and her soul. All too well he recalled nursing Izzy back to health after that man had nearly destroyed her. He did not think that he could hate Scott any more than he already did, but it seemed he was wrong. He was filled with so much anger, with a need for vengeance, to make Scott pay for the wrongs he had done in this life and the ones before. Logan had blood on his hands already, the vengeance he had sought against others who had harmed his sister. It had only been the fact that Scott was such a public and influential person and the best friend of Logan's father that had stayed him from justice before, but now... now Logan did not know how to stop himself. Not right now, not while he held this beautiful woman in his arms while she cried for the memory of the horror she had endured.

"You do not know how happy it makes me that you have not pushed your knight away." Gwyn and Logan both startled at the sound of Myrddin's voice. "And that it worked."

"You sent us there on purpose?" Logan asked, his voice rough with emotion.

"Well I was not doing it for purposes of matchmaking. I gave up that business months ago. Terrible hours and I got sick of people slapping me."

Gwyn could not help but crack a smile. That was part of the magic of Myrddin when he was in this mood, it was infectious, if he smiled then so did you.

"Was Izzy...?" Gwyn started to ask, remembering what Myrddin had said about them sharing lives before.

"Yes she was there too. You will remember more soon, now that the floodgates are open. But sometimes it is better to remember the harder parts first. Especially with what is to come soon."

"What is to come soon?"

"I don't know. I have not been shown but there is a threat and I fear it. You and fair Isabel are in danger; the darkness is moving, knitting together events which could take either of you from us and weaken our side in this war. I do not mean to be sexist but the women must be protected, and, if need be, rescued once more."

"No one is going to touch either of them." Logan growled the words, his arms locking even tighter around Gwyn protectively to the point that she yelped he was holding her so tight. He loosened his grip.

"That is the plan, Logan, but we are not in complete control of the path we walk to our destiny. We may have no choice but to just react." Myrddin dared not mention that if things happened as they might, Logan was going to have to choose between his sister and his former Queen to aid. It was not going to be an easy decision but it was better he made it at the time and did not overthink it. He might do the wrong thing or drive himself crazy.

"No one is going to hurt Izzy or Gwyn, I swear it on my life. I will protect them."

"Done." Myrddin replied. There was the sound of a crack of thunder though the skies were still clear outside.

"What the hell was that?" Logan jumped so violently he nearly dumped Gwyn off his lap and onto the floor.

"Your oath has been accepted." Gwyn explained. "We are people of power, Logan, and sometimes our words are taken at face value. You should be more careful what you say."

"Gwyn." Logan looked down at her and smiled. "I meant those words and if they are accepted then that is fine. I meant it completely. I will protect you and Izzy and anyone else I need to. That is my role." And yet he knew that was not completely true. He was the avenger as much as he was the protector. That was why he already had blood on his hands.

"Gwyn, I do not mean to push," The smile slid from Myrrdin's face as he looked at her tear stained face after a few moments of silence had hung between them all. "But I never knew what happened in those days, if you told Lance or Adrian in their previous incarnations neither ever told me. It is perhaps a sick curiosity to want to know but a curiosity I have nonetheless. What happened?"

Gwyn took a breath.

"They never knew for sure, for I could never tell either of them the truth, the words would never come to me, I do not know if they will come to me today." She sighed. "And if I tell the story now, it shall be the only time I will tell it. I will not utter the words again."

"Do you wish them to know the story now?" Myrddin asked, moving from the couch to stand, looking down at Gwyn waiting for her reply.

"I... I think so." Gwyn said. "Though I do not know that they care to know such things or even remember me then, let alone wish to know me now."

"If you would talk to us, you would know that simply isn't true."

A deep masculine voice drew Gwyn's attention to the doors as they swung open and both Adrian and Lance stood there, dark skin to fair, dark eyes to bright. Everything inside her contracted painfully tight, nerves firing with the reaction their presence caused. She moved closer to Logan, not even thinking what they would think of her in another man's arms; a man who was in fact shirtless as he held her close.

Logan blinked at the two men.

"Adrian? Lance?" His mind was turning neat tricks trying to keep up and process the information as it came to him, because he knew both these men, he had known them for a long time.

****

# Chapter Four

"My god." Logan was just gobsmacked to see Adrian and Lance standing in the doorway of his study.

"I was your liege not your god," Adrian laughed. His laughter was full and hearty. He moved across the room and Logan moved one arm from around Gwyn but did not let her go. They grasped wrists rather than shaking hands. Logan didn't even think about it, he just did it.

"Brother." Adrian's voice rumbled powerfully.

"Brother." Logan replied in greeting, his own voice a lower timbre. Lance had not yet taken his eyes from Gwyn but moved to follow Adrian and grasped arms with Logan, repeating the greeting.

"These are the two we've spoken of?" Logan said, tilting Gwyn's head up to look at him as the two men sat down.

She nodded in reply, her eyes darting to them and away again.

"Then that would make you..." He looked to Adrian who nodded. "I never put the stories together. I was an idiot. You were the girl that they fell out over in college." Logan looked back down at Gwyn; he was feeling a bit conflicted. He had been there and ragged on the girl with Adrian as they drank. He had been friends with them both, Adrian first and that was why he had been there for Adrian, and Lance had pushed them all away anyway. But now years later he had become friends with Gwyn. Not even two nights before he had gone on his trip to the forest, he had sat with her as she had railed against men, spilling good whisky as she did so and he had sided with her. He had never put the names together with the two men he had known in college, it had never occurred to him.

Logan was surprised that he did not feel uncomfortable that he was holding Gwyn right now, there was no embarrassment or worry that his old friends would see more than it was. He simply knew they would know that he gave her comfort if they knew what she had just seen.

Gwyn could not believe that Adrian was smiling at her, that he was jovial. The last time she had seen him, well he had not been happy and she had been left bleeding and crying on the pavement where he had thrown her down and cursed her to never seen him again.

It seemed he was not all powerful for here he was right in plain sight.

It was Lance that was tearing her more apart to see. She had pushed him away and he had gone. He had not tried to fight for her at all; he just walked away and never looked back. Yet here he was. She did not know how to take it.

Myrddin knelt down beside her and took her hand.

"We are all here and if you would tell us the tale, we will listen and promise that none shall judge you for anything that might have happened. We would not have then, though I know I poorly misjudged you for it and that alone pushed us apart in that lifetime. But I am here for you now as I should have been more in other times."

Gwyn sniffled and nodded.

"I was riding and I was thrown from my horse. I do not know how it happened. One moment I was riding and the next, it was if something pushed me backwards and unseated me from my mare. I landed hard, painfully, and my guard was quickly off his horse to tend to me. My guard..." Her eyes moved to Logan. "It was you. You were riding with me because..." She turned to the other two. "You were busy, meeting with Myrddin."

They all nodded and waited for her to continue.

"Melwas was there only moments later saying he had seen the whole thing. He bid Gwaine to return and bring aid for it was too dangerous to risk moving me without a healer. But as soon as Gwaine was beyond hearing, he did move me. He carried me until we came to a river and a boat was waiting. A barge like thing and he placed me in it and we moved downstream to the lake and from there to the island. I was so scared and did not know what to do. He was one of my Lord's lesser nobles and I was surely meant to be safe with him but I did not like the way he looked at me or the way his hand would be so casual in how and where he would touch me. I was scared beyond any fear I had known before that day. The day passed with nothing of interest to tell, but as night fell he came to me with a nightgown, it was a fabric so sheer, it was see through and like nothing I had seen before let alone worn. He said it was a spoil of war from faraway lands and he would be honoured if I would wear it for him. I refused, I knew he would be able to see my body through it and I would not let any but my lord see me in a state of undress.

Melwas grew mad and he slapped me so hard the sting brought tears to my eyes. He told me that if I did not put it on he would tell the King I had thrown myself at him. I did not want that so I did as he bid. But in a moment of defiance I kept my cloak on and pulled it around myself. I returned to my seat and kept the cloak around me. He started to tell me stories, stories of things he had done to women, forced women to do to him and I tried not to listen. I had only lain with my King and only three times since our wedding night. Melwas kept talking and came to kneel before me. He pulled the cloak and exposed my legs in the short gown. He touched them and I moved away so he hit me again. He told me he would tell the King I drugged his wine and seduced him, that I had confessed to having had many men before and worse he said he would tell the King that I had been with Bedievere most every night since he had become my escort from my home. That alone scared me more because I feared it would be believed since I had feelings for my knight that I had not acted on; yet it still felt like a betrayal."

Gwyn fell silent; it was from here that the story became more difficult. Tears began to well up in her eyes again.

"I did not give in to him. I did not give myself willingly to him." She whispered the words not noticing that Lance and Adrian had both moved to the floor and moved closer to her, their own eyes shining with unshed tears.

All in the room knew what she was saying without her saying it but they had waited lifetimes for it to fall from her lips.

"For two days he kept me there. For two days and nights he raped me whenever the mood took him." She collapsed into great gasping tears as the horror of the memory flooded her mind. She tried to crawl out of Logan's grasp feeling dirty, used, not wanting to let another touch her, thinking that she was too disgusting to be touched. But he held her tight and rocked her even as a low growl issued from his throat.

"He is dead." Logan stated in a low hiss.

"Long dead." Myrddin replied.

"No, in this life, he is dead. He shall die for what he has done." Logan needed to stand, had to stand as he was wound too tight to sit still. He looked around to see if someone would take Gwyn from him and Lance moved in behind him transferring her to his lap. She stiffened but Lance did not let her go and held her tenderly, silent tears falling.

"You know him?" Adrian stood as Logan did.

As Logan paced, Adrian stood at Lance's right shoulder grasping it with his hand linking the three together. Adrian did not touch Gwyn directly, he feared it was too soon after his last touch for which he had not yet had time to make amends.

"You remember Izzy?" Logan asked and Adrian nodded. "And you remember the guy Scott I told you about?"

"Yeah I know Scott well. You told me he was your Dad's mate right, who cheated on his wife and used Izzy for sex right?"

"Scott was Melwas."

Now Adrian growled. He was working for the man. He hated him, loathed him, but he was where he needed to be, where he had been put. He worked closely with the man to the point where Adrian knew where he would be at virtually any given moment.

"No."

Logan turned at the quiet feminine voice. He could not see Gwyn's face but he stopped and looked at her anyway.

"You will not murder for something done so long ago."

"But Gwyn, he has to pay. For you, for Izzy, for all that he has done."

"I didn't say he wouldn't pay. I said you would not murder him."

Words that Roen had said the night after Izzy had killed their father sprung to Logan's mind at Gwyn's restriction. Roen had said he would take everything from Scott, destroy him as he had almost destroyed Izzy and leave him with nothing. Roen would want to be involved. Logan was not sure about Izzy but perhaps she would have a part to play. Instantly he knew she would and a plan began to knit together in his head.

"Who will stand with me against Scott and help deliver justice to him?"

All in the room replied affirmative, except Gwyn. Logan knelt on the ground beside her.

"We will not do this without your blessing, Gwyn. I will not do something you do not want me to."

"Do not act yet, give me time. I am too raw from this to make any decisions. Make your plans but give me time."

"Agreed, my lady." Logan reached around Lance and found her hand squeezing it.

****

Lance and Gwyn had been left alone in the room; he still held her but neither one had said a word since the others had left. Gwyn did not know what to say. So much time had passed since the night she had told him to get out, the night he actually had. Being here like this, made Gwyn feel uneasy. She could not hide from the fact that even after all the time that had passed with no contact between them, she still loved him. She could not deny that her heart was beating out a fierce rhythm and her stomach was knotted to have him holding her, that even now she wanted to turn her head and find his lips and be kissed and loved as she used to be. But he had been gone so long; he had not come back until events beyond their own control had pulled them back together.

"I should go." He whispered, even that sounding strained.

"If you feel you must." Gwyn replied, her voice sounding more angry than the hurt she was actually feeling- that he would run from her again, that he did not want to stay when she was so desperate for him to.

"I should, you cannot wish me to stay."

"What do you know of what I wish, Lance?" Gwyn broke free of his arms and stood, the world tilting for a moment from the swift ascent. Lance did not reply. He just stood and walked towards the door.

"So good at just walking away." Gwyn spat at him, her emotions were raw enough without this.

"So good at letting me." Lance turned, his own temper rising to match hers. He was meant to be here to make peace with her, to help heal the pain within her. Yet here they were arguing again.

"Letting you? I wanted you to fight for us, for me, and you walked away."

"Why did I have to be the one to fight? You didn't fight for me, to keep me, to show me I was the one, the only one, show me that you had let go of Adrian, that I wasn't going to lose you." Lance growled.

"I..." Gwyn wanted to argue but all she could hear was Myrddin's words in her head, that she pushed everyone away, that she did this to herself and to them. She looked down at the ground, her voice barely a whisper when she found the words for a reply. "You can never know how much I have missed you. It was you that my heart ached for."

Gwyn turned away, walking to the French doors, staring out over the gardens. She could not look at him right now. She wanted to open the doors and run, to not feel anything anymore. There was no way he could still feel the way she felt about him. Not after she had driven him away in her own fear and even less now that he knew what had been done to her. Even though it was not in this life, she still felt tainted, unclean. She had a desire to flee, to find a place in the wild, a cold pool and scrub at her skin, to try and remove this feeling of disgust.

_Out damn spot_.

Somehow she knew, even though she did not have the specific memory to call to mind, that was exactly what she had done lives ago. The Queen had hidden herself away and tried to feel better. Gwyn wished she could know more, know how Guinevere had gone on after it, how she had loved. She wished she knew what the rest of the story was. What the true story was. The tales of Camelot were more numerous than most stories; everyone had an idea, a slant on the tale, but what was the truth? What was _her_ truth? It was highly doubtful that the answers were going to parade across the glass that separated her from the outside world and distract her from the man standing behind her. The man she expected to just turn and walk away from her again.

Gwyn startled at a touch at her shoulder.

"I missed you too."

She turned and Lance pulled her into his arms. Pulled her tight against him, so tight it felt like he was scared she would try and escape and he could not let her. She fought the desire to go rigid in his arms, to put the walls up. She forced herself to breathe out, to let her muscles relax.

"You've never left my thoughts, Gwyn. You've got to know that. I tried, I wanted to forget, to stop feeling but I couldn't Gwyn. You're in my heart and I couldn't get rid of you." His hand stroked her hair and her back. "I thought...I thought if you wanted me back you'd try to get me back. I thought you'd moved on, forgotten me, didn't care."

"You're an idiot." Gwyn was crying now, laughing and crying. "How could I stop caring? I love you so much Lance, so completely, I've been hollow inside without you. Sad, depressed. I'm not right without you loving me."

Lance tilted her head up, teary eyes finding hers. Seeing the truth of her words.

"I never stopped Gwyn. I still love you."

Gwyn licked her lips as his eyes fell to them. She could barely believe what he said, that he was saying it, that he meant it, that after all of this he loved her and he wanted to kiss her. But his eyes on her lips said he did, and his eyes did not lie. Lance bent his head closing the small distance between them and kissed her.

****

"Well that's one problem sorted." Myrddin rubbed his palms together and looked at the two other men that remained with him. "Granted it's one problem out of Lord and Lady know how many but I'm not a miracle worker here no matter what the hype says. We've got a lot of work ahead, especially you two boys, and the others. Alas one kiss doesn't save the world."

"They've made up?" Adrian's voice was rough. He would always love Gwyn; it was built into him but he was working out his karma. He was letting her go because she was not his. That did not mean that knowing that she and Lance were kissing was going to be easy the first time or maybe even the hundredth but maybe eventually.

"They appear to be making up. It won't be an instant fix, as you well know."

"It has to be me." Adrian's jaw set hard and his fists clenched. Myrddin looked at him and blinked, his face a mask of surprise as he leant on the kitchen table.

"I thought we had been through this..."

"Not that I'm giving her up. I mean the prophecy we spoke of in your home. It must be me, do not make her lose him again."

"I will make nothing happen, Adrian. You know that. I do not make the news, I simply deliver it in advance."

"Not to speak out of turn. But I have no idea what you are talking about." Logan moved to the cupboards taking out some glasses, playing the host. He pulled out a bottle of Cabernet Merlot, Adrian's favourite from memory, and poured them all a glass.

"There is an old prophecy I made Logan, many lives ago. We believe it relates to this time and if so it means that Gwyn is to lose either Adrian or Lance. But we do not know who."

"Gwyn doesn't know, does she?" Logan was certain that would have come up the other night if she had. He knew Gwyn would never accept it and do anything to change it, even if it hurt her.

"She has no idea and I'd appreciate it if it remained that way Logan." Adrian asked for Logan's silence in his roundabout way, already knowing that Logan would agree instantly. Logan's soul would always wish to protect Gwyn's, he had done it before.

"She won't hear it from me." Logan raised his glass and Adrian returned the gesture, they had an agreement.

****

Lance held her in his arms on the couch; she was curled up in his lap. There were no words, for in this moment none were needed. They just needed to be close, be in each other's presence after so long.

"I missed you. God, I missed you so bad it made me crazy." Lance held Gwyn tightly against him and she could barely breathe; not from the embrace but because of the way she was feeling. To be in his arms again. The words he was saying. She did not think she would ever get this again; she thought he was done with her and yet here he was telling her he loved her, telling her that he had never stopped loving her. "I tried to get over you, god knows I tried to let it go but I couldn't. I couldn't let you go. I love you, Gwyn, God I love you so much and I thought you hated me, I thought you'd moved on."

"No." Gwyn stopped him from rambling with a finger on his lips. "There has not been anyone, just you, always you. No one else could come close. I haven't even kissed another man since you left me."

She might have said more but Lance kissed her. It was so hungry, so passionate, he was claiming her with his lips and she was his to be claimed. Darkness was coming, but with Lance at her side, powerful in his love, Gwyn thought she was stronger to meet the coming times. She had something more to fight for, and nothing was more powerful against the coming darkness than the force of love.

###

### About the Author

Jai Lefay, aka the Princess Bard, is a Holistic Creatrix who lives in Aotearoa, New Zealand.

Jai is the author of the stories of the Wiccad, The Shadow of Avalon series, The Bloodied Briar, and countless other short stories. When not writing, Jai can be found dancing, performing, crafting pretty shiny things, reading and biking around on her vintage style bicycle.

Jai has a passion for history, mythology, fantasy and empowering people to shine with the brightest light. The Wiccad is more than simply stories to her, it is a call to be the best version of ourselves we can be and to bring hope and kindness to a world that needs it.

You can find Jai across the interwebs and she would love for you to come and find her:

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