Arianrhod was checking the dead bodies for weapons of great power or trinkets and Fionn saw her victorious. She was covered in splattered blood and she looked back at him. Her mask of blue only covered around her eyes and he felt as though he had been gutted.

“Why did you leave me behind? Am I not trustworthy to you?” Fionn spat out in anger.

“In all honesty Bràthair; I was certain you would stop me from fighting because I carry your babe.” She answered bluntly.

“So you left me out because for once I want something so fucking much; I would have begged my Queen Piuthar not to go! I would go against all we are; who you are and who I am because I want the babe in your belly more than I have wanted to live!” Thunder incarnate shouted in semi-rage.

“I knew that Fionn. These Undine are of the exact same clan as Nwyvre’s was. They have not made moves in over five hundred years in this plane. I found it odd and they slaughtered my mortal worshipers!” Arianrhod cried.

“What of the human?” He asked calmer and his arms were crossed across his sculpted chest.

“I ordered him cremated lavishly and given a holy vessel in which to hold his remains. I have also extended his family’s farm so that they will raise in rank in their village.” She spoke with her chin up.

“Quick thinking. We warriors will finish cleaning this up. Please go to Whitich Hold.” He asked his ruler.

“Of course Bràthair.” The Silver Wheel sighed.

Arianrhod stepped back and she saw into his mind the small keep that was all his and she phased there. It was some time and as she stared at the tall grass in the fields. She remembered playing here as a child and her beloved Fionn coming to court only the year before. She was eight and he had been six but Arianrhod was already a queen but she had regents at the time. Gwydion was with her half the time and they tried to keep the twins separated sometimes because they were either best friends or tearing each other up. Arianrhod was the elder born by a full day and she laid the side of her head on the brick window casing. She sat looking and remembering.

“Tag! You are it Fionn Hammel. Come find me!” Her girlish voice sang over the fields.

“You are stupid Arianrhod Hammel!” The little boy with white blonde hair said in Faroese and Gaelic jumbled, staring at her with a nasty look on his cherub face.

She laughed softly and came out covered in mud. She threw a small ball of it with her air and it splattered all over Fionn. He looked up at her with a furious glint in his dark, hazel eyes.

“You may be a queen but I am a prince! Say you are sorry brat!” Little Fionn glared at his older sister.

Her smirk was genuine and he wanted an apology? She told him in his mind to make her give him one. The little Scandinavian half ekimmu ran after her and whaled on her ass but she adored him. They slept in the same bed and he did not understand why he had to be with “her” as he put it.

“The Little Queen always sleeps with a sibling; a sister or brother; strange child.” An elder ekimmu told him.

Arianrhod had on her night clothes and Fionn refused to look at the mean girl. She was playing with his white hair and he began to actually growl.

“What is wrong?” She demanded.

“Sorry my hair is white. I know it should be gold or silver.” He sputtered barely understandable Gaelic, as if in anger.

“Why would you want to look like us when you look like you? Your hair is beautiful bràthair Fionn! You are very beautiful.” The young girl giggled.

“You are stupid and you are supposed to be queen?” He demanded; in his Faroese, not looking at her.

“I am not stupid, stupid!” She growled at him.

Little Fionn had wounded her pride and he rolled over and the sight he saw actually made him feel terrible. His full lips pouted and he was still learning their language. He spoke Faroese and They spoke the languages of Briton. He missed his mother; Halldora Fardahl and she had told him that she was sending him to his sister’s court. He had not understood.

“Þú ert systir mín.”Fionn said blinking his dark hazel eyes at her.

“Yes, I am your Piuthar. Can you say that?” The tiny Silver Wheel asked drying her darker blue eyes.

“Piuthar.” He repeated.

“Mo ghaol ort annsa bràthair. Teas-ghràdhaichte.” The young Arianrhod whispered.

She laid her head down and stared at the scared and frightened child. She began to run her fingers through his white hair and he stared at her at first with coldness that slowly changed over that summer; before Taranis ripped his heir away from a younger sibling.

Arianrhod had to shut out the screams of little Fionn out of her mind as her father had returned and pulled her up on horseback and left with her. She moved between all of his bastard children but all knew she was the queen. She was his voice and his might. Arianrhod was the most beloved of Taranis; even over her quadling trio of brothers.


“Do you remember calling me stupid in that very bed over there?” She asked in a soft tone as she heard Fionn come in.

“I was a small child Piuthar! Do not hold that against me.” Fionn said thinking she was angry.

“You could only speak Faroese then, remember?” She asked not looking at him.

“Yes Piuthar, I remember. I remember how for the first ten years; I moved between my mother’s capital in Danemark and here.” He said standing by stoically.

His long white blonde hair was braided once on each side and pulled back in leather. Arianrhod still wore her battle clothing and she looked back at Fionn with bloody tears falling from her eyes.

“When he came and took me away; you ran after us. You kept screaming Piuthar. I had to let you go every winter and I would scream bràthair and cry myself to sleep.” The Silver Wheel kept remembering and her remembering was bothering Fionn.

“Piuthar, I am not going away anymore. I see my mother every so often but what and who I love is here.” He said unemotionally.

“Can you ever show me your heart Fionn? You showed me when were children. You let me twirl my fingers in your white hair and let me sing to you in Gaelic. You used to openly love me Bràthair and without shame!” She wept at seeing him show nothing.

“What is it I am supposed to show Arianrhod? I devote myself to maintain your army not out of command but out of love and duty to my queen! Am I supposed to be a louse like Gwydion? Must I be an enemy to truly show you my love?” He nearly spat out in anger.

She remembered Arawn’s words and Fionn wanted the babe more than her. Her eyes slowly went to normal and her blue face paint was almost navy colored.

“The bleeding started this past noon. No worries Fionn. I do not want or need sympathy or emotions. You confirmed my already known assumptions.” She said in a dead voice.

“You said nothing before…” He stammered.

“I had just fought a battle. Was I supposed to talk about my mating habits with my people?” Arianrhod asked cocking her head to the side.

Fionn was actually trembling and for a moment deep anguish showed over his face. She rarely saw his feelings and he wanted the child. She walked past him and opened the door.

“Good bye Fionn. I will call on you when I need the warriors.” Her voice was devoid of anything.

Fionn was just stunned and her coldness and everything made sense. He had to splash water on his face to help keep his emotions from breaking loose but he failed. Fionn Hammel fell to his knees and bloody tears fell down his face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The recent battles with the fae and within her own house were keeping her in a deep depression. She wondered if it was time to go adventuring on the mainland again and meet some more exotic daemons. She was sitting at a simple vanity that held a highly polished bronze mirror and she checking her image. She had only come back from Beltane and the people had been honored and excited that their goddess was with child and that she had avenged their village. She had bled heavily and Gwydion had been gone often and that suited her fine but she heard her door wide open.

“I am assuming the masses at the Henge were massive?” Gwydion asked in a calm voice.

“It was Beltane. What do you suppose?” His twin tried to smile at him.

He had seen her as they had cut her; she always wore white on feast days and her belly could not be missed. Gwydion was furious and wanted to kill her.

“How long did you think I would not know?” He asked and she felt the chill in the air.

“Know what? Know that I am pregnant? Are you a moronic idiot?” Arianrhod asked him in her anger.

Her angelic consort had his hand around her throat and he was strangling her as fury took him over. She grabbed his arms and she literally blew him away and he slammed into their bedroom wall made of marble.

“Who did you fuck this time Arianrhod? Please tell me you at least killed the bastard or I will.” He hissed as he turned blue in his ultimate fury.

“You are raving mad Gwydion! Remember yourself; you are only on that throne by the grace of ME!” She screamed in rage as her eyes became demonic blue.

“Virtue of my birth order bitch. I am your twin.” He snapped and he stood up and flicked blood off of him.

“Macha has the regency. I am leaving the Isles.” She snapped as she walked around him to her corridor.

“Do not come back with a gaggle of brats Arianrhod or I will kill you. I will kill them and make you watch!” He snarled at her.

“Such love and affection Gwydion. Go to fucking Annwyn. Wait a minute! Arawn said he was expecting you.” She snorted.

Arawn summoning him was not a good thing and Gwydion always worked hard to stay on his brother’s good side.

“What reason would he have of me?” The golden haired man asked nervously.

“Seems he does not like how you slap me around as of late. He could send the Sistern but I am certain you will calm yourself before you get an extended stay.” Arianrhod spoke so smoothly with her threat.

Gwydion said nothing more and she turned on her bare heel and walked away. All of her silver hair was down and she wore a loose fitting halter dress of silk crepe. It left very little to the imagination and hatred mixed with insanity showed in the consort’s face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~She sent a tear filled note to Ailduin and begged him to forgive her but she had lost her babe in battle with the Welsh Undine. She told him that her ideas had been foolish and she wanted him to stay with his wife and soon to be born child. Arianrhod made sure her salty blood tears smeared the page. She folded the note up and she clasped her hands over it and spoke in an even more archaic form of Gaelic. The note flared up in a silver flame and she sat back. She was in the South of Gaul at the moment and she was enjoying respite from everything. Away from her court; her belly grew heavy with her sons. She wore only a low slung skirt that was long and linen/silk blend in red and her hair covered her breasts. Her pregnant belly was quite evident and she smiled as she saw local tribes of empusae wraiths. They were actually a group of infants she loved to be around. A young chieftain had introduced himself as Ruval de Laurel. He had black hair the color of midnight and eyes that were darker blue more like Halldora’s were. Arianrhod smiled and went by another of her names; Morgause. She had no intentions of being found at the moment and she was happily away from death, court, and overly possessive brother/consort. She was sleepily watching young empusae play and she remembered Fionn was half. She shut her eyes to it all and she dreamed. She allowed herself to dream of days gone by and happier times. Times when Gwydion was her most important love and she had ended a dynasty of the Welsh Undine; and she had lost her innocence. Nwyvre had a secret but she had not figured it out until much later. He had given up his immortality for a chance at rebirth; a chance to be with her again. The pain of his death and the pain of Fionn made her cry silently and cry she did; no one would ever weep for her she was sure. She was a powerful woman and too many males in the world did not like powerful women.

Arianrhod knew for a fact a younger brother resented her deeply. He did not know that she kept him watched eternally. It had been quiet at court from Bilae for more than a century but she knew her younger sibling. Being a minor noble was not his style. She pressed her hands to her belly and felt the kicks of both fae and ekimmu boys.

“This will be my gift to you my sweets. You will never know the trials of my kingdom or the hatred of other races. I will give you up and I will watch from afar.” She said softly.

Her babies kicked and Ruval watched the stranger sitting on granite settee with plenty of pillows and a tent over her. He was certain she was more than she said; but he never pried. He was a leader but he was shy. She was crying blood and he found that odd. He only watched as she cried herself to sleep and he was left to wonder what was tearing her apart.
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