Chapter 21 - To Court Death

By James Attwood

The ruin of that once peaceful glade fell dark as all was obscured from sight. Maeve looked around to discover that she was alone in a cold dark expanse. No family, no Gwydion, no boar. She called out to them, sure they must be behind some illusory veil, some last-ditch gambit of the trickster’s. But there was no reply, just an endless echo, her voice carrying further than it had any right to. With every step perfect circles rippled from her feet as if she walked an obsidian lake’s reflective surface. Yet there was no moisture, no damp, not anything. No far-off sight for her to run towards, no trickling river for her to follow. She felt alive enough, yet this place oozed with a contrary feeling, a feeling of death. This frigid sensation crept through the veins to her heart, grasping it in a strangle hold as she let the fear gnaw at her soul. She fell to her knees, horrified she’d met her end, that this was it, but then she felt something sniffing at her hair, ruffling it with a familial curiosity. She looked up, and in that endless void saw Gelert, alive and vying for her attention.

            “Gelert!” Maeve cried, her voice suddenly occupying only this space, no longer an echo in the dark. “How are you…”

            She ran her hand down his side, expecting some trace of blood or a jutting arrow, yet he appeared healthy, as he was when she’d played catch with him beside the lake. He pattered around her, seeming as lost as she was until something caught his nose amidst the nothingness, some smell he deemed important enough to follow.

            “Where are you going boy?” She quizzed, Gelert tapping on the spot as he waited for her to come with him, “Okay, I guess we’re going this way.”

            Gelert pattered onwards, nostrils glued to the featureless floor, none too bothered by his alien surroundings. It wasn’t long before the dog’s hunt bore fruit, a ghostly mist washed over their path to reveal some tangible sprouts of life. Sprigs of grass brushed Maeve’s feet first, and soon gave way to a pleasant meadow of flowers, ringed by an old cobblestone wall. The sky was still black yet now there were stars, thousands of them dotted in mesmerising constellations, only obscured by the far-reaching branches of a grand old oak. I know this place, she thought, an eerie sensation tingling in her stomach. A dark figure stood ahead, eclipsed from memory rather than view, yet it called out.

            “Gelert? Is that you?” The old man’s words sparked a sense of life into the hound Maeve hadn’t seen in days, bounding towards him as if his life depended on it. As Gelert reached his master the shade fell from him, revealing Merfyn crouched down, making a fuss of his old friend. “Good boy, oh I’ve missed you.”

            “Grandad?” Maeve mouthed in disbelief.

            Her grandfather kneeled in the garden that was now so recognisable to her, knees stained green with grass, caring eyes creased with joyous greetings. Coming into view behind him was her grandmother, stepping from behind the oak to greet her dog in kind. Maeve stepped forward, expecting to wake from a dream, but felt her fondness of this homecoming was too real for it to be her imagination. Finally, Gelert bounded back to Maeve, and then back to the others, and that was when they noticed her.

            “Maeve?” Derwen held out a hand, but the girl ran in for a hug, affirming what she thought she had seen. “It is you darling, what on earth are you doing here?”

            A teary face finally pulled itself from Derwen’s thick knit cardigan and asked, “Am I dead?”

            “Oh love, that can’t be the case.” Derwen’s smile was an image Maeve had clung onto, comforting yet assured.

            “I think you followed someone who is…” Merfyn thumbed behind Gelert’s right ear, his favourite spot, but couldn’t help but feel his dog intended to stay. “...Gelert, you stubborn old boy.”

            “So how am I... where am I…” Maeve could theorise what plane of existence she inhabited now, but to read of the afterlife and to step into it were two very different things.

            “Annwn love, the Otherworld, the afterlife...it’s many things.” Derwen smiled, wishing away the worries that plagued her granddaughter. “It’s not as it was, just like the Wales you came from, it’s fractured, confusing. But I’m sure you don’t belong here, not to stay. It is what you make of it, and I feel we were the first thing you thought of when you realised where you were. Or perhaps Gelert just fancied one last walk with you.”

            “So, I could stay? Be safe here and-” Maeve stuttered through the possibilities but knew this wasn’t for her to witness, not now.

            “Maeve...we’re gone. This is where we belong, but you still have so much you could achieve. You have your entire life to live.” Her grandmother wanted to hold onto her forever but relinquished their embrace. “We’ll always be with you love, no matter where you are.”

            “Just one last step Maeve, and you can end the story in a way nobody else could. Your way.” Merfyn patted her shoulder, Gelert sat by his feet. “You’re not alone, you never have been. They’ll be there for you, as will we, don’t you worry.”

            “When we walked through that tree I thought the nightmare would never end…” Another voice spoke out, that of her aunt Aria. She appeared, free of the hardships she’d faced and resolute in the knowledge she’d helped her family live another day. “...But the way I see it now, it was a dream once, like your stories, a dream you can bring back Maeve.”

            “Besides…” Idris offered his words of encouragement as he too came into view through the haze, kneeling to ruffle at Gelert’s mane. “...I reckon you’re the only one stubborn enough to convince death himself to have a change of heart.”

            “Uncle Idris you’re...Auntie Aria…” Maeve was overcome to see these departed wish her well, yet deep down she knew this was real, irreversibly so. She couldn’t dwell on the dead, the living still needed her. Few words were spoken, few questions asked, only solemn nods and knowing looks confirmed her assertions. She knew she couldn’t stay, but where she must go next scared her, “What if I can’t, what if I-”

            The haunting howl of a lone spectral hound rang out behind her as a familiar shape strode beside her, long slender limbs seeing it stand as high as her shoulder. It had startled her at first, yet she could see now despite its fearsome appearance it was simply waiting for her to accompany it.

            “Go on Maeve, your story was never meant to end here.” Derwen’s warmth seemed to extend to the ci Annwn in kind, the ghastly figure shrinking to that of a more familiar and pleasant white wolf.

            “I know...I just wish you could tell me how this story ends…” Maeve whimpered to her grandmother, wishing for one last tale before she left.

            “Only you can decide how this one ends Maeve…” Derwen told her granddaughter what she’d finally needed to hear, what she’d come to understand having to live without her.

Maeve’s hand slipped from her grandmother’s as she reluctantly turned to follow her softer guide, this pastille memory of a family now gone fading into the dark the further she went.

            No sooner had she left behind the memory of those she’d lost was she back in the void, following her ghostly guide in place of Gelert who’d found his home. Their wandering seemed aimless, yet the wolf never stopped, never rushed, it simply knew exactly where it was going and when it meant to arrive. They were not alone this time however, as Maeve noticed another man approaching from the dark. As he neared she realised it was Gwydion, hole gaping in his chest, oddly spectral in his appearance, being ushered along by a far more fearsome wolf. He struggled and dashed away fruitlessly, fleeing into a thick cloud of mist only to reappear next to the wolf from another. His guide was monstrous, tall, mangled and bloodied at the mouth. It bit and barked at its ward; a display of fiendish command compared to Maeve’s placid company. Eventually Gwydion noticed her and halted his never-ending escape.

            “What are you doing here girl?” The trickster raised an eyebrow, pausing in place only to be nudged along by the elongated snout of the ci Annwn behind.

            “Same as you I think…” Maeve kept to the other side, placing her wolf between the two of them, “...come to meet the king.”

            “Ah, so he brought you here after all. Or perhaps I did...there might be a chance for me after all!” Gwydion believed he might have succeeded, somehow, despite the chaos of what occurred in his final moments. “Come to claim his prize! All will be settled between us; all will be forgiven.” His expectations turned to disquieted mumblings.

            “I think you’re past that.” Maeve gazed through the hole in his chest, dry and clean, as if blood meant nothing in this place. She wanted to say more, brush aside the notion that the king still wanted her, but she fell to a contemplative silence instead.

            “This...this isn’t the end for me child.” Her words had chilled Gwydion, the reality of his mistakes during his time alive all coming to a crushing reality. He feigned bravery, yet dreaded his audience with Arawn more than anything, scurrying for the darkness once more, the hound’s fangs pulling him back to their invisible path again. He railed at the beast, “This isn’t right, I am Gwydion! Child of Dôn! Ever-living, ever powerful! My purpose is not to be pulled by some filthy creature through this…hell! My story does not end in this meaningless death!”

            Maeve watched on as his protests fell on deaf ears, the wolf single minded in its mission. She carried on peacefully and thought it would be best Gwydion do the same, “Death isn’t the end Gwydion…”

            Her statement caught him off guard, another truth he’d known yet had avoided. Nevertheless, it abated his futile arguments and saw him proceed with some dignity, surrendered to his fate, at least whilst his grizzly caretaker pursued him.

            “Then let us both hope that death is amicable this eve.” He muttered.

            Their march crept on, both the wolves and their followers walking in silence. Eventually the vague aspects of a scene began to meld into subtle shapes in the mist, pillars shooting up beside them, sleek black slate paving the floor they walked. Black iridescent waters flowed upwards either side, reverse waterfalls lining the manmade valley they now walked. The more this realm revealed itself, the less it made sense. Paths began to merge all around them, more cŵn Annwn skulking the heights of the glassy walls that divided these obsidian walkways. Maeve could see these hounds led more individuals towards her own path, though Gwydion remained mortified by the towering gates that stood at its end. As these disparate people merged, she was ecstatic to see she wasn’t alone in this place.

            “Guys!” She excitedly hollered as she ran out of step with her ci Annwn for the first time. “Mum! Dad!”

            Like a spider’s legs arriving at its body, the paths her family walked converged with this central road, and in an instant they were all reunited in this strange place. Gwydion’s pitiful appearance gave them pause, as well Efnysien’s none too enthused following behind Lewis, yet otherwise the Elderkin’s were together again.

            “Where are we Maeve?” Zoe looked around; her eyes returned to their blueish normality.

            “I think this must be Annwn...the Otherworld. Wait, you can see now!?” Her mother’s miraculous recovery had only just become apparent given their odd surroundings.

            “As soon as I arrived in this place I could, not that there was much to see…” Zoe gazed around at the featureless obelisks and bizarre waters that stretched far above, “...this though, it’s something else.”

            “What you make of it…” Maeve muttered to herself, marrying her mother’s sight with where they were.

            “Indeed, it would appear you wished to see, Zoe, and here in Annwn that wish was granted.” Taliesin pondered, suspecting this grim kingdom might be more welcoming than it appeared. After all he’d had some experience with the Otherworld in the past.

            “It can do that?” This nightmare made even less sense than the other Wales to Raymond.

            “For those who deserve it I dare say…” Taliesin grimaced at the hole in Gwydion’s chest.

            “Gawk all you want; we all must face his judgement.” Gwydion sneered.

            “Is that why we’re here then man? Still dragged along by your whims?” Efnysien spoke, his own wound healed over by now. “After all I’m certain even that boar’s tusk wouldn’t end me.”

            “Ah, I’m glad you’re here most of all you traitorous wretch.” Gwydion’s pride swallowed his fear for a second. “I say we’ve all been cast down because you betrayed me before I could fulfil my purpose. You ask why we must all walk the depths of Annwn? Look no further than this savage and his misguided mistakes.”

            “He’s made a whole list of bad decisions…” Lewis piped up, taking a moment to come to terms with what he was about to admit, “...but that wasn’t one of them.”

            Efnysien said nothing, he merely stared at Lewis a moment before walking back to his guide in this afterlife, feeling he no longer had a place amongst any of his present company.

            “Have you seen the lion Dad?” Orson asked now that Efnysien was stood far away, a shake of his father’s head seeing him ask the rest, “Has anyone seen my lion?”

            “No, sorry…” Fred replied, “...I’ve seen...stuff...but no animals except for these wolves.”

            “I saw Gelert!” Maeve lit up, though she came over melancholic as soon as she said his name.

            “You did!? Where is he?” Hope was ecstatic, the others echoing her eagerness to find the dog.

            “He was…” she faintly whispered, “…I think it was for the last time…”

            “Oh…” The reality of where they were began to sink in.

            “No sign of Twrch Trwyth though, or your bwbach.” Maeve tried to move on, “I wonder why.”

            “I dare say this is between us Elderkins and the king.” Taliesin suggested, before shrugging towards Gwydion and Efnysien, “And this rabble of course.”

            “Us Elderkins?” Lewis picked up on the bard’s self-inclusion.

            “Yes, well, it came to light that we’re related in a rather estranged manner.” Taliesin tried to explain but realised this might not be the place nor time to do so.

            “What do you mean? Aren’t we meant to be Pwyll’s family?” Hope was puzzled, then she remembered her uncle’s feelings regarding their heritage in the mines. “Uncle Idris did say he had his doubts…”

            “Turns out Myrddin never hid away Pryderi, he hid his daughter...grandma.” Maeve told them, “We’re Myrddin’s descendants, not Pwyll’s.”

            “Woah...so we’re wizards?” The wonders of this world never ceased for Orson.

            “Well, I don’t know about that.” Zoe smiled, “But it does change things.”

            “Arawn will settle this matter, you’ll see.” Gwydion smirked and wandered on ahead towards the gates, paying no mind to the surprise of those around him, eyeing Efnysien with disdain as he passed.

            “How can you literally die and still not come around to something?” Raymond tutted at the trickster.

            “Seriously? That’s...wait, so if we’re so important...where’s Idris?” Lewis asked what had been grating on his mind since he’d stumbled into Gwydion’s trap. He’d spied all of them amidst the chaos, all of them bar his younger brother.

            “He-he didn’t make it Uncle Lewis…” Fred tried to remain composed this time, a tall task for the fragile boy, though Lewis’s reaction, face contorted with confounded grief, convinced him to go on. “...There was a giant, brought back to life, Rhita Gawr. He was going to eat us and kill us and... but we stopped him, together...uncle Idris saved me…”

            “Idris is dead?” Zoe stuttered what her brother couldn’t.

            “I’m sorry love, they told me in the woods, but everything happened so quickly…” Raymond tried to comfort her.

            Orson expected his father’s embrace but looked up to see him frozen, lips trembling. Instead, he hugged around Lewis’s waist and sobbed, “I’m sorry Daddy.”

            “Before he died he told me to say ‘hi’…” Fred sniffled, realising now his Uncle’s parting words weren’t as memorable as he’d thought, though they elicited an unexpected chuckle from Lewis.

            “Hi!?” He grinned, wiping at his eyes, “You idiot…”

            Hope found herself giggling too at the thought, at the memory of her uncle’s company. “You should have heard what he said to the giant!”

            “We saw the ugly bastard on the rocks below…” Lewis shook his head, thinking back to what a scene they’d come across, not knowing his brother lay dead above it, “...that’s a story you guys are going to have to tell me when we’re out of here.”

            “Aria’s story too.” Maeve solemnly added, “I saw her here...passed on.”

            “So, she’s really gone?” Zoe winced as she heard the truth she’d feared finally confirmed. Hope and Fred behind her couldn’t find any words, memories of their frantic last moments with their aunt flooding back to them.

            “We knew...that Grigor confirmed as much.” Lewis sighed.

            “What she did for us…her sacrifice, it got us here, to the gates of Annwn.” Maeve spoke up to the group, a surprising clarity and depth springing from her conviction. She knew this was it, the moment everything had been building to. “Grandma’s too, grandad’s, Idris’s...even Gelert’s. They all got us this far, we owe it to them to try and finish it.”

            “Well said honey.” Zoe proudly patted her daughter’s shoulder and clasped her hand in hers, staring down the road towards the crystalline gates.

            “Shall we?” Taliesin prompted, walking in line with the Elderkin’s as they followed side by side, their eight cŵn Annwn leading the way.

            As they neared those gates the brilliance of this fortress became apparent, those near invisible walls reflecting the dots of a thousand unseen stars. As imposing as the transparent fortifications were, they sloped with an undefined elegance, their surface untarnished by age or war. The gate itself, adorned with the etchings of countless tapestries that glowed with life as they neared, began to open. The shapes of dragons and knights slid by with the booming crack of the two slabs as they folded inward, revealing a dark and dreary court within.

Gwydion and Efnysien fell as far behind as their wolves would allow, leaving the Elderkins to bravely venture in first. The dark waters trickled with shimmers of every colour either side of the walkway, as green torches lit themselves the further they went. Above a starry night sky shone, dominated by the looming moon, abnormally large in the confines of this hall. The gates closed behind with an indiscreet crack, seeing the children hold hands even tighter.

            Eventually their walkway widened beyond the waters, opening into an empty hall whose edges slipped into another black void. Only a lonely pair of thrones stood ahead, one elegant and slender, the other crooked and tall. The smaller of the two was empty, yet a figure sat in the other, slumped back, hands grasping the orbs at the head of its arms like artifices of power. The cŵn Annwn disbanded, gathering behind the throne like a haunting entourage of ghosts gazing back at their king’s audience, their red dagger ears pricking upwards uniformly like the spikes of some unholy gate.

            “Welcome to Annwn, to my court.” Gravelly tones came from the dark, a learned voice as haunting as the tales it could surely tell. The figure leant forwards, suddenly eliciting differing reactions from all who gazed upon him. “I am Arawn.”

            As the gentle moonlight caught his face they were bewildered to see an old man, withered not from age but abandon. White wispy hairs fell beneath his modest crown of twisted twigs, his braided beard dangling to his stomach. His robes folded into deep umber colours, adorned with subtle intricacies of gold and silver between the weaves. Each ring, jewel, and pattern that he wore seemed to tell a story, some trinket like souvenir of ages past. What each Elderkin saw was a variation upon this form, however. Maeve saw him as this just arbiter of fate, Zoe a guardian angel wrapped in its own wings, Taliesin a scribe of the stories lost to time. Yet for all who gazed upon him there was no pomp or ceremony, simply a man ready in his station, a king at the end of the world. All worlds.

            What Gwydion was witnessing was another matter however, reeling back as he was confronted by the embodiment of death. Chains wrapped Arawn’s every limb, coiling freely as if they had a mind of their own. Beneath a crooked iron crown was not an old man, but a bare skull, emotionless in its glare. Arawn’s every gesture, every word, seemed to doom Gwydion to an eternity of pain and despair. Efnysien too was imposed by what he saw yet was in awe rather than fear. What sat upon that throne was the embodiment of a warrior, adorned in trophies of victories past, horned helmet stretching into the darkness, the weapons of a warlord strewn at his feet.

            It took a moment for each of them to take in this dauntingly diverse figure, after which Zoe decided it was time to address the king in return. “We’re honoured to be here King Arawn. I am Zoe, this is Maeve, my-”

            “I know who you are.” Arawn interjected, curt yet disinterested. “And I know why you’ve come.”

            All of them were unsure of what to say next, fearful of what a wrong word might wrought here in Annwn. Raymond spoke up next, “But you brought us here right?”

            “I allowed passage to a family I deemed deserving, after all, you desired to see me did you not? Passage between our worlds is not easily granted, not these days.” Nervous nods from the children was all the confirmation the king received. “Gwydion had expired, and you were near. And now, here we are.”

            “You were waiting for my death? Hoping I’d off myself, is that it!?” Gwydion took offence at the notion it had been his own demise that drew the attention of Arawn after all. “Why didn’t you come for me then? Finish me off yourself!? Why leave me to wallow in fear like that!? What use is there in that!?”

            “What use is there in vengeance. Would it have returned Abertha to me? Would it have righted the wrongs of our encounter? Mended my broken kingdom?” Arawn showed no disdain for his wife’s killer, he simply uttered every word slowly, as if he bore the burden of regret. “Surrendering your own life. Slain in pointless battle. What does it matter how you met your end, what matters to me now is the unknown, these strangers who brought that end into motion.”

            “You don’t get to act like I’m meaningless, like this whole damned mess wasn’t between you and me Arawn. It was fated!” Gwydion revolted against Arawn’s dismissal of him, to him their stories were entwined, two sides of a most important coin. “Where’s Amaethon? Where’s my brother!? I shall free him yet.”

            “Many a thing is fated. Mayflies will dance in the summer months, dragons will wage war with one another, and Gwydion son of Dôn will always meddle in matters not his own. Fate can be a beautiful pattern that echoes through time, yet it can also be a tiresome excuse for those who become all too comfortable with it, to live in the shadow of its grand promise. Those who are too content to embrace an undeserved greatness or their undeniable nature, rather than try to aspire above it.” The king digressed, seeing Gwydion had only one matter on his mind, deaf as always to the inclinations of others. “Yet you ask for your brother, and that I will show you.”

            The mangled apparition Gwydion was in fear of twisted its fingers and brought to light a figure from the shadows, pulled by a cŵn Annwn, chained at the wrists yet unharmed. Amaethon was clothed as he had been that fateful day he trespassed into Annwn. A bulky and dishevelled figure, beard overgrown, locks brown and tangled, yet he was undoubtedly a brother of Gwydion’s all the same.

            “Amaethon!” Gwydion gasped, dashing to his side. “What horrors have you endured at the hands of this fiend?”

            “Brother, I’m fine.” Amaethon muttered back, wary of the king’s presence in kind. “Truth be told I am unsure of why he holds me still.”

            “I seek no vengeance on you either. What good would it do, besides start the war you two so desire.” Arawn cradled his chin, curious about what he meant to say next for the first time. “Of what I am to do with you instead however, I am undecided.”

            Gwydion seized upon the opportunity. “These strangers before you, they are no strangers at all. They are the children of Pwyll, hidden away you see! The Pryderi I felled was his son only in name. These are his true children! Take them now, and I will be gone with my brother, we will never again set foot in these hallowed halls.”

            “Even if these folk bore the blood of Pwyll I would not trade lives like coin, yet they are not.” He leant forwards, the quartz eyes of his skull gazing into Gwydion’s soul, “Gwydion, trickster, you have been deceived.”

            “What…” Hearing otherwise from this ghoulish king finally gave Gwydion pause.

            “These are Myrddin’s kin, hidden away in place of Pryderi. The girl told you as much. Once more you have caused suffering for nothing, tricked yourself into believing your own folly.” Arawn looked at the Elderkins who stood in anticipation of this confrontation’s end, “Granted they are of consequence still, but you, you are not.”

            “How could you know such a thing.”

            “Little escapes death…” Arawn grinned, keen to see if Gwydion had learned from his experiences these past weeks.

            “It doesn’t matter…” Gwydion murmured to himself before bursting with indignation at his supposed judge, “...it doesn’t matter! I will see my brother free and your kingdom in ashes before the day is up!”

            “Perhaps you did not deem to listen in life…” The king stood in response to this unseemly outburst, voice echoing throughout the endless chamber, his very presence hurling Gwydion to the floor. Chains crept from between the slate slabs and bound him in silence. To the others there was no such spectacle to be seen, just a man, white as a sheet, lain flat on the floor in terror. “...Yet I will be damned if you do not listen in death!”

            “What have you done to him?” Lewis asked, feeling a pang of guilt seeing Amaethon watch on in silence over his brother.

            “What Gwydion sees in my presence is what he knows he deserves, and what Gwydion deserves is most...unpleasant.” The king explained, resting back in his throne now that he was satisfied Gwydion could wait. “Annwn is what men make of it, it can be a paradise for some, but for others a punishment. Guilt is a most malignant truth, one which endures in even the blackest of hearts.” He turned back to the others and spoke with less credence, somewhat calmer, if that were possible, to be conversing with more innocent souls. “Yet I know for a fact you see me for what I am, a lonesome king without his queen and barely a kingdom. Nothing more, nothing less. For this alone I know there’s worth in conversing with you, yet I warn all of you now, the worth in conversing with the likes of myself lessens by the day.”

            Taliesin thought it best he field the conversation given his prior experience with kings both good and evil, though a certain expedition of his into Annwn with Arthur years ago had him worried to speak too loudly. “I, uh, must profess to the quality of your company dear King. Perhaps you do not know us personally but…”

            “Speak up Taliesin, bard, scholar, man of Arthur.” Arawn knew exactly who Taliesin was, and of all his exploits, both good and questionable.

            “Ah, so you recognise me-”

            “Taliesin you need not fear me. Your deeds are many and no man is faultless. You’ve achieved many a great thing, furthered the stories of many a great man. Now you’ve brought the Elderkins to my court, so that I need not wallow in the empty bounty of Gwydion’s corpse alone. It means much, in this dark time.” Arawn could see the fear his presence instilled, after all it was he who would decide the fate of all who stood in this room. He made efforts to assuage this reputation, to put his court at ease. “Your time is not at its end bard, and I assure thee that when the time does come, I will ferry you to the hall of Arthur myself…if I can.”

            “Thank you my King, that is all a humble storyteller could hope for.” Taliesin bowed, relieved to see they stood before a fair judge, though the king’s lack of certainty in his abilities didn’t sit well. “Though it is not my own story we come to discuss good King, but yours.”

            “Ours.” Arawn corrected him, “We are all entwined, it would seem. Yet I have not heard the one who wished to see me speak, the girl who Gwydion valued so highly.”

            Maeve almost choked hearing the king mention her, having been shyly stood behind her parents this whole time. She thought of those who’d wished her well in that pocket of heaven and knew she would have to start somewhere. Three quick words were all she managed at first as she nervously stepped forwards, “That was me.”

            “There you are, Maeve, blood of Myrddin.” He could see she was still trembling, mind racing with what she had surely rehearsed but couldn’t perform in his presence. “Do not be afraid. Those you have lost had great things to say of you and your family. Truth be told the day the Elderkins graced my court has been all that I have awaited since my dear Abertha’s departure. Speak, let me hear what you mean to say.”

            “I-I…” Maeve shuddered but then looked up, seeing that wise old king doing his best to appear amenable. She’d thought it was his own nefarious nature that held his smiles back, yet it was something else, something all too familiar to her. It was grief. “First...I’m sorry for your loss King Arawn.” A sincere nod came from the king, her condolence perhaps the first to have graced his lonely ears. He gestured for her to continue.

            “But what I... what we came here for was to change your mind. To stop the fighting between you and Gwydion, to convince you to restore Annwn to what it was. To what it should be…” With each word came more passion, more desire to reach the embittered heart of this king. “I know what he did was awful, but you can’t stoop to his level, you can’t just allow this war to break out because of one stupid mistake. The Otherworld is important to so many, it’s your home, the home of so many fantastic creatures, but it’s also the resting place of so many souls...my family included. Back in their Wales I’ve seen monsters that shouldn’t be alive, the living are hiding scared or worse, and the dead can’t even pass on. So many depend on you, on who you are. Don’t let some Children of Dôn change that.”

            Arawn shuffled in his chair, taking in the girl’s passionate speech. “I know you have all suffered loss, yet what befell my life that day, what was taken from me…”

            “There’s nothing to compare here, we just have to move on and try to be who they’d want us to be…” Zoe thought of her grandfather that morning, the shock she’d felt must have been similar to what Arawn had gone through.

            “Yet what is to be done when you already know you have failed in that regard.” The king solemnly replied.

            “I’m sure she’d never think that.” Zoe tried to imagine what emotions meant to beings like these, eternal one moment and finite the next.

            “You let me see them, my family...at least I think it was them.” Maeve pondered.

            “I do not deal in tricks, it was them.” Arawn cradled the side of his head in one hand, his weary mind beginning to succumb to doubt. Perhaps expecting this family to be the solution to his woes was a fool’s hope. After all, Pwyll had no such calamity to deal with such as what befell Annwn now.

            “I knew it was...it gave me the strength I needed, that may not seem like much but…” Maeve fumbled over her words again, sensing she was losing the king’s interest, “...but if you reached out to queen Abertha, maybe she could do the same for you…”

            “Would that I could, yet my Abertha is lost to me.” Arawn began to lay out just what had occurred, “A life lost in Annwn is a life gained in your realms, my people cross over just like yours, to be born anew and live as something else. That is why a celebrated newborn in your world is cause for mourning here. Even if I were ready to shirk my responsibilities, to seek her out, I could not. Passage between this world and yours was never meant to be for the likes of me, for the likes of most in fact. Only the dead and those who guide them were ever meant to truly pass between. It is why Myrddin came to Abertha in the first place after all, to craft his doorway.”

            “Wait, Myrddin was here? Like our grandfather Myrddin?” Zoe asked, surprised to hear the wizard’s contact in Annwn had been its rulers. Then again there was a great deal they did not know about this mysterious man it would seem, perhaps even this was a secret from the enchantress.

            “He arrived here many years ago, with the fairy Morgan by his side. Professing his visions, the import of his intervention. I saw no merit in his argument, thought he was but delaying the inevitable, yet my wife was a kinder sort. She lent her ear to the two of them, to their cause, and in doing so learnt of their true intentions.” Arawn spoke fondly of his queen, admiring their disparate traits as if she completed him. Now he sat here, half a man. “You know of what occurred, but how it occurred was another matter. Abertha took pity on them, saw their plight as an innocent act, one that could surely have little consequence. Then again perhaps not, her intentions were often a mystery even to me…” He smirked to himself, “‘You’re too stuck in your ways Arawn’ she would tell me. Whatever her reasoning, she helped them.

            “You see Myrddin knew his child would soon perish in this other Wales. He was a cambion, born of man and magic in equal quantity. Cut off from magic in her world, she would expire within days, drained of a life source as you would be without water. Abertha saw a way to prevent this, to bind one creature from one Wales and another from the other, to establish a small connection that would allow Derwen to live happily as if she were in the Wales she belonged. A roebuck was plucked from one, and a whelp from another, and together in our gardens she watched over them. So long as they stayed in Annwn, the two realms would have their through line, and Derwen her life. The rest was up to Myrddin and his trees…”

            “The deer and pup Gwydion stole…” Maeve mouthed, realising their tale had been entwined all along.

            “Once they were lost, so was Derwen’s magic. Her years caught up to her as any mortals would.” Arawn surmised, piecing together his wife’s little secret.

            “So you killed her too!?” Zoe almost pounced towards the restrained brothers, Raymond pulling her back. “Where does it end with you Gwydion!”

            “It was not our intention, I swear!” Amaethon pleaded on both their behalf, his brother still silenced and bound. “We did not know!”

            “Another soul lost to your aimless fancies.” The king tutted their actions, regretful to have to add another life to their tally of misdeeds. “They were simple prizes to these two, lifeblood to another.”

            “This is all...very illuminating.” Raymond tried to bring the discussion back to present, not wanting to see his wife endure any further revelations. “But Gwydion’s dead, this is done with, what matters now is Annwn. Like my daughter said, you can’t keep it under lock and key like this.”

            “I might blame Gwydion for the state of my kingdom, my dream…” Arawn sighed, standing now to walk before the others, towering above them yet hunched with the weight of his burden. “...Yet what you say is true, Annwn is as it is because of me. Though it pains me to tell you it cannot be undone.”

            “What do you mean it can’t be undone?”

            “Grief...anger...sorrow. I gave into them. Seeing Abertha, arrow through her heart, knowing I’d never feel her kiss again, I gave into the burning hatred I judge petty mortals for every waking day. As I chased Gwydion I felt I wanted to end him, not only him, but all his kind. Every would-be snake that would slither into this kingdom of mine under false pretence, to seek its spoils for no other reason than fame and glory. He wasn’t the first, yet he would be the last.” Arawn clenched his fist tight, invisible stone audibly cracking at the recollection of what he’d done. “Once he’d scurried back to his den I cleaved my kingdom from the world it had suffered so much. Thrust my blade deep into the divide and split it open, imparted every spell I had, every power I could muster, to keep me from having to feel this way again. To keep me from having to lose another...yet I was a fool, it has done nothing but seal my own solitude, shut my kingdom from the light...it is done now though, and neither the living nor the dead may enter the rift I created, so remain my kingdom shall…cut off.”

            As Arawn revealed what he’d done that day he gestured towards the darkness, hand outstretched to give this story tangible form. A searing gap cut itself through the misty dark, a schism flaring with unholy flames.

            “What is that?” Lewis asked, shielding his eyes from the glare.

            “My greatest regret.” Arawn answered, dimming the fierce fire with a swirl of clouds. “A crack between Annwn and the other realms of my own making, within burns a nothingness so powerful it would end you or I.”

            “If you cut yourself off from everyone how did we end up here?” Hope quizzed, wishing there was some hole in this wall.

            “Abertha told me once, when I questioned her decision to help Myrddin Wyllt, not to discount the small, the insignificant. I was never quite sure what she meant, yet when I saw your family dragged through the tree, I thought it best to see it through to the end. To understand the folk my wife had deemed worth saving that day. Your kin, Derwen, Merfyn, Aria, Idris, Gelert...they rest in my lands because of her.” The towering king squat down to affirm the children not all was lost but turned with shame as he told them the rest, “Gwydion was to be the last…I held influence enough for that, to see our feud through. Fortunately, all of you were there when the end came for him. I held a fool’s hope that you might be the key to undoing my mistakes, but alas I might only have trapped you here. Now what wisps of power I had left over the divide are gone, and all is done. I am truly sorry, meeting the king at the end to only find a pitiful fool such as I must be…”

            The king’s words drifted like that of an idea thought best of, an inspired notion one moment and a fading blunder the next. The inapproachable rift roared to the side, impossible to fix they all thought, but then inspiration struck. Maeve caught Orson’s eyes glancing back at his father, then to Efnysien, as if some unspoken thought had hit him. That’s it, she thought.

            “Let us help you.” She declared to the dishevelled king.

            “Child I know that you wish to bring light to this dark mess but…” Arawn remained unconvinced, unaware of what other prize they had brought him.

            “Orson, what’s on your mind?” She prodded her cousin, seeing him shake back to the present.

            “Uh...well...you said something about that rift being dangerous for anybody, alive or dead, from our world and yours…” Orson twiddled his thumbs, afraid he’d embarrass himself before royalty.

            “Son of a…” His father had the same thought, the key to all this might be stood behind him. “Efnysien! I knew I brought you for a reason. He’s neither dead nor alive, something in between.” He turned to the immortal, speaking directly to him. “The cauldron, crafted by the giants from Otherworld magic, it’s inside of you right?”

            Efnysien was confounded, suddenly the centre of attention when he’d thought this meeting of minds above him. “So they tell me.”

            “Efnysien, the man who deigned to elude me for aeons…” Arawn murmured, suddenly realising what use this man might have, “...come to my court precisely when needed.”

            “I... I don’t know…” Responsibility now weighed on Efnysien’s shoulders, he’d resigned to a fate of punishment at Gwydion’s side, yet this, this was unexpected. “What can be done?”

            “If one could enter the fire, one might be able to destroy it from within with tools powerful enough.” The king’s words were heavy, final.

            “Like the cauldron, another sacrifice.” He muttered, memories of his brave act flooding back to him now.

            “Indeed, though I would wager no creature could survive this as you did with that cauldron.” The king regretfully warned him. The immortal stared at the fearsome schism, afraid what an end might mean for him now. “What you are now might never be again.”

            “You wanted redemption.” Lewis said, holding the Sword of Rhydderch Hael out for the immortal to take back, “Then take it.”

            Efnysien’s hands hovered above it, shaking at the prospect of finally having a hero’s part to play. “Will they know of this? My kin?”

            “All will hear of it.” Arawn echoed, “All will know what part you played.”

            “I’ll make sure the bard writes a poem myself.” Lewis assured him.

            “Gods, I’d best be done with this lest I have to hear it myself then…” Efnysien smirked, glancing back at the Elderkins, none of their faces as warm as their sentiments. “These are just hollow words aren’t they, to tip a desperate man into a desperate act.”

            “Does it matter?” Lewis spoke bluntly, there was little room for respect between him and Efnysien, but he would be honest at least. “Does it matter what any of us think? There’s a choice ahead of you, but it’s up to you what you decide. Always has been. That’s where the animosity’s come from in the past, maybe something better will come from this. It’s rare you get a second chance.”

            “What can a man do then but seize opportunity.” Efnysien sighed, taking the sword from Lewis, and turning to the chaotic void. “I’ll never be rid of my sins, there is too much to atone for. But if this scrubs one scar from my crooked soul, I hope that it’s for what I did to the old man…”

            The immortal stepped towards that crackling doorway; the light too hot to bare. Stepping through he vanished from sight, behind lashing whips of fiendish fire. They all watched on, not sure what to expect, Arawn at their front, peering with pained optimism. As Efnysien ventured further the heat became unbearable. His skin seared and peeled, his hair caught aflame and left his head bald, and his clothes were reduced to ash. But his body held strong, the cauldron of rebirth fuelling his own fire inside against the endless assault. He staggered on, flesh now crisp and blackened, the hideous visage he’d once been, but a man he hoped was different within. Finally, he neared some form of centre, a pinpoint ball of blue flame from which all else seemed to burn. He held up the Sword of Rhydderch Hael, its blade still dim in his hand, and peered at this enigma at the heart of the cataclysm. Holding it high with just intent, he noticed the fires of the sword finally light up in his hands.

            “Hahaha!” He laughed with glee before plunging it deep into the fire.

            The blade sunk deep, the swirl of fire shrinking to an even finer point as he did so, then expanding into a fiery inferno. Efnysien’s maniacal laughter turned to pained screams of agony as all manner of otherworldly magic exploded right before his eyes, enveloping him. Tendrils of this magic flung far enough to escape even the rift through which Arawn’s court gazed, yet as soon as they had appeared the fires ceased, and the doorway was sealed. The shock wave that washed over stunned them all.

            “Did it work?” Orson hesitantly asked, the deafening silence that followed devoid of any victorious fanfare.

            Not even the king answered his question, rather they waited in anticipation of some sign. Finally, a faint haze of blue began to enliven the slate floor, some spectral presence swelling beneath the mists. Then the light began to rise in spots, flowing into the shapes of ghostly men, women, and beasts as they ascended to line the court’s walls. Soon the endless darkness was lit by thousands of these spirits, hovering in waiting before the king of the afterlife.

            With a wry smile Arawn turned back to them, his guise more prosperous than ever, “I believe it did.”

            Lewis and Orson looked to each other, the boy somehow sad even at Efnysien’s sacrifice, but grateful him and his father had made it possible. Arawn wished to attend to the departed, to begin to put right the wrongs that had built up during Annwn’s concealment. Yet all was not dealt with, far from it, he and Maeve knew as much.

            “Miraculous, what you have done here today.” He sent his cŵn Annwn dashing to the litany of lost souls, to prepare for what would surely be a titanic task. “I can see you returned to whence you came, so that you might forget this nightmare once and for all…” His words drifted, as if he had more to say.

            Raymond looked to Maeve and his wife, relieved this could finally be over. “That would be perfect...I think I speak for everyone when-”

            “But…” Maeve interrupted, tugging at his arm.

            “But?”

            “Your promise Dad…”

            “My promise? To the knight?” Raymond seemed mystified; certain their end of this bargain had been fulfilled. “We’ve set things straight honey, surely the world can right itself from here.”

            “But how is he meant to find another sparrowhawk like the last? To get his people back on their feet? It’s far from fixed Dad.” She felt as if she were the only one who cared, finding it hard to understand her parents had only the family’s safety in mind now. “Maybe you could do something King Arawn?”

            “Maeve honey we don’t need to trouble him any further.” Zoe stepped in; afraid they’d overstay their welcome.

            “It has been an age since I set foot in that realm, yet my own kingdom needs tending to as well. Do not forget both worlds have been suffering in kind. Rival kings set upon my walls, Hafgan’s dissidents vying for control of Annwn whilst I was at my weakest. Even though the gate is open once more between worlds, the passages must be carved anew, made safe for all creatures.” The king sighed, rubbing at his grizzled chin, “Many tasks that will require many hands. There are many long days ahead of this old king, a difficult path ahead for Annwn. I hope Wales can find its way in kind.”

            The children seemed as disappointed as Maeve was, having had the naive hope that thwarting Gwydion once and for all would have seen the land returned to a peaceful state right away. The reality was that the wounds Wales and Annwn had suffered would take time and skill to mend, and a kind soul to see to them all. Maeve had a thought, an idea so wild she was sure it would be laughed at. Before now she would have shied away, stayed quiet in the corner, content to go unseen. But much had changed lately. Write your own story. She stepped up to the slender throne, where Abertha had sat, and ran her hand along the meticulous ivory inlay of the arm.

            Arawn watched the girl intently, her contemplative silence that of an inventor before their greatest invention. “You said before that seeing those you lost gave you strength. The strength to do what might I ask?”

            “What if...” Maeve began, looking on to the king with nervous expectation. She’d wanted nothing but to help the denizens of this fabled Wales all along, the kind folk who had helped her along the way, but what if it wasn’t her that would help them after all, not personally. She started her proposal anew, clearly so that all could hear, “What if we traded places?”

            “Like I did with Pwyll so many years ago?” Arawn raised an eyebrow, a most muted response compared to the rest of the room as Maeve eagerly nodded. “You would wish to rule over Annwn, see to its woes, as I saw to the woes of your realm?”

            “Not my realm...well yes, I suppose it is my realm. We could solve each other’s problems.”

            Arawn smiled, he found the notion charming but failed to see how it might work. “Maeve, Pwyll was a king, a warrior, a most capable man. It is not to say that you are not, but no man could call himself a noble king if he would gladly trade places with a young girl, especially in such grave a times as these.”

            “If I was here I could be a queen, you could even make me look like you, like you did Pwyll. I’m a fast learner, and I already know more than most, I’d make sure all the souls find their way.” As she said the idea out loud it sounded absurd, but she remained adamant. “The mess back in Wales is bad, some of it really bad. I can’t move mountains or outwit witches, but you can. One thing I can do is listen. Listen to all the stories of these souls…” she gestured around her to the ghosts in waiting, “...and make sure they move onto the next chapter they deserve.”

            “I’ve no doubt you would do well yet…” Arawn humoured her, but ruling Annwn would be a far more complicated matter, “...what of the enemy at my gates? War is no place for a child.”

            Zoe saw her daughter’s face crease in an effort to find her next answer. She’d never wish in all her days for Maeve to actually go through with this, but then again she’d never dreamt that meeting Arawn would be the way forward either. Regardless of her own opinion, all she saw was her downtrodden daughter trying to make a stand, and she’d be damned if she didn’t stand next to her.

            “She has him.” Zoe gestured towards the trickster who’d been a silent witness to all of this.

            “Gwydion?” The king questioned her sanity, almost everyone echoing his bemusement.

            “He’s failed in this life, and we may have thrown a spanner in the works ourselves, but let’s not forget that in some reality he was meant to be the only one capable of beating you, of sacking Annwn in that prophecy.” She wandered to her daughter’s side, her disbelief in what she was saying doing little to shake her support. “Say what you want about him, but he has some nasty tricks up his sleeve, anyone who’s crossed him knows that. Who better to defend Annwn than the only man who could bring it down?”

            Maeve’s blank expression belied her mind that raced with possibilities, “His tricks have started wars, I’m sure preventing them would be just as easy.”

            “You might have something…” Suddenly the scheme seemed less outlandish to Arawn. Raising his hand, he lifted Gwydion back to his feet with some phantasmal force. “What say you of this proposal?”

            “Why would I ever save your kingdom?” Gwydion sneered, finally able to speak again. “I’m damned for all eternity in this place aren’t I? So just banish me to my fate and let me be…”

            “Would you shun the opportunity to live up to your own legend?” The king spoke to him in kinder tones, his skeletal form fading into that of the just and noble adversary Gwydion desired. Gazing at the hole in Gwydion’s chest, his own skin as ghostly as the spectres around him now, Arawn noted, “This is where you will reside forever more, that is certain, why not defend it? Why not better your standing in these eternal halls? After all one must judge a man by his life’s deeds, I would not discount your own just yet.”

            “So, you dangle the fruit of a prosperous afterlife before me is that it? Like the first scrap of meat for a wild dog you wish to tame?” Gwydion saw little substance in what Arawn was saying, too surrendered to his defeat to dream of the glory found in another battle.

            “What I offer in my halls is not some reward, it simply is. I would not encourage heroes or harbour villains, what men choose to do is their choice and their choice alone. What you will find in my halls is merely the result of those choices, a continuation of that life lived in its purest essence. Think on that and consider what this family speaks of.” His tone dropped to a dulcet monotone, sparing little emotion for the ultimatum that had befallen the trickster in his final hour.

            Gwydion scoffed, putting a show on for his company as he tussled with the decision.

            “What’s to say he won’t stab Maeve in the back, run away as soon he’s given the chance?” Fred didn’t have an ounce of faith in the man who’d hunted him and his family.

            “He won’t, because king Arawn will have Amaethon.” Raymond finally stepped up to argue his daughter’s side, proposing the king kept the trickster’s brother close. “Take him with you. That way Gwydion will know that if he puts one foot wrong, he’s damning both himself and his brother.”

            “Indeed, a fitting sentence for their crimes.” The king seemed to agree, putting these troublesome brothers to work instead of locking them away could benefit both worlds.

            “Even now you would chain us Arawn!? Have us be slaves to your every whim when the matter is long finished, why not finish it like the monster you really are!” The offer struck Gwydion as one last insult.

            “You are already dead Gwydion…” Amaethon appealed to his brother, his imprisonment having cultivated calm in him where his brother had been left to the unrest of battle, “...continue down this path and I’ll end up joining you in turn.”

            Gwydion’s vitriol dulled; his bitterness reduced to disquieted defeat. “Brother...I have failed you.”

            “We failed each other Gwydion, we must accept that.” Amaethon threw a hand on his brother’s shoulder, emerald wisps enveloping his fingers as it almost fell through the incorporeal man. “You fought well, but if we continue this fight it will be in vain. No army is large enough to bring you back now, and war will only serve to bring others closer to death’s door. What this king offers us now is a boon, a chance for us to seize glorious victory one last time. Do not let our tale end in defeat.”

            “Death isn’t the end…” Maeve assured Gwydion one last time, this time the sentiment finally rung true.

            “Hafgan’s dissidents you say? I’ve heard of him.” Gwydion enquired to the king, sizing up what enemy he’d be facing.

            “The man himself is long dead, Pwyll saw to that, but a dozen lords have risen in his place. There is a vacuum outside of these walls, a lust for power that has festered in the wilds. Every one of them would see Annwn lain low and built again in their image, the dead be damned.” Arawn could see the glint in Gwydion’s eye, the spark of a man with purpose.

            “They sound disorganised, prone to dissent from within...I could work with this.” Gwydion stood straight and paced around; hollow chest pushed out like a boastful hero. “I do this, help the girl retain this bastion, and Amaethon will be set free?”

            “You will listen to her every word, she is to be the queen, and you her loyal aid.” Arawn emphasised his every instruction, he wouldn’t give this slippery character an inch. “As for Amaethon, he will accompany me to your realm. I have not travelled there in some time, a guide such as him could have its uses. Though yes, once both realms are safe...I will consider both your debts repaid.”

            Gwydion stared up at the aged king, eyes studying the depths of his time-tested soul. A few moments passed until he decided the terms were agreeable, holding out an outstretched hand to the king. They shook most tepidly to seal the contract, Gwydion asking the question that still lingered on his soul, “And our grief...the grief I’ve caused...will this amend that?”

            “What you and I feel is unimportant in the grand scheme of things, is it not? The one you must prove yourself to now is her.” Arawn waved a hand towards Maeve, who sheepishly stood in the middle of this decisive contract.

            “We’re not really going through with this are we?” Hope asked her family that had gathered around Maeve.

            “I don’t think it’s a we kind of deal…” Maeve mused.

            “Well, you can’t be seriously considering this then surely…” Taliesin worried over what the girl had been thinking all along.

            “She is right. To trade places between realms, remain where neither of us belong, is a most particular ritual. There will be no place for others, only one.” Arawn clarified, remembering his time in Pwyll’s role.

            Maeve found herself pulled to one side by her parents, the two of them helplessly concerned now that this fantasy had become a pressing possibility.

            Zoe cupped her daughter’s cheeks as if she meant to rouse some sanity from her, “Honey you can’t do this, I know things haven’t been easy but-”

            “I want to do this Mum.” Maeve held her hands in turn.

            “Maeve I know I can be difficult but it’s over now. We can go home, be a family again.” Raymond pleaded even though he could see his daughter’s mind was made up.

            “I know Dad…”

            “There’s school, your brother and sister, your whole life.” Zoe felt the futility creeping in as well but wouldn’t let herself be deterred, “Us. You can’t throw all that away.”

            “I’m not, I’m doing this because of you guys.” She pushed away from them and explained through teary eyes. “You both came rushing in to find me, all of you did. Somebody you cared about was in danger, so you threw everything away and rushed to help. I care about this. I know you both do as well. I understand you have to go back; you have to give Hope and Fred a normal life. But I could stay, just for a while. I know I can do this; I can help. I have to.”

            “This is really what you want isn’t it…” Zoe realised, pained yet proud that Maeve would dedicate herself to this.

            “It is.” She replied with conviction, never surer of anything in her life.

            Zoe’s eyes glanced to Raymond’s, the two of them sharing an imperceptible moment of agreement. She nodded, wiping at her cheek, “Okay...okay.”

            Raymond sighed and saw to grilling the king for every last assurance he needed, “You’ll keep an eye on her always right? You can come back to help her, keep Gwydion in line, call this all off if needs be?”

            “Of course, I will still be the king of Annwn, and the powers that come with such a title will always be-”

            “Not the magic mumbo jumbo, I need to know that you will watch out for her.” Raymond clarified.

            Understanding the countless worries that must be racing through the father’s mind Arawn sedately nodded, “You have my word.”

            “Good.” Raymond’s shoulders slacked, “Good.”

            “How long will this arrangement last?” Zoe asked, worrying there may be some permanent clause she had yet been made aware of.

            “That depends on what it is I must do in Wales I suppose.” The king sat back in his throne, ready for his list of tasks to be laid out before him.

            Before the adults could even think the children sprang forwards with suggestions aplenty. Nebulous negotiations had gone over many of their heads, but the plights of those they’d met had been on the tip of their tongues since Maeve suggested Arawn lend his aid.

            “The bwbachs!” Hope’s eyes lit up.

            “What of them?” The king was bemused.

            “So many got hurt helping us, I’m not even sure how many are left…” Her excitement turned to sadness as she remembered the scene on the mountain top, at least she still had one to return to.

            “A task for your sister I would wager, if they have departed. Heroes take many forms, all deserving of peace after the battle I’m sure.” The king passed the duties along but saw that it hadn’t quite satisfied the girl, so he added, “Yet should I be able to help those that still live, I will do so. They breed like rabbits after all.”

            “Thank you!” She giddily grinned.

            “The coblynau too!” Before the king could ask of more Fred spoke up, “They said they couldn’t find their way back to Annwn, that their passages were blocked.”

            “Ah, noble workmen. I shall see to restoring the backdoors between our worlds with haste.” Nary an ask seemed too difficult so far.

            “Don’t forget the coraniaid!” Orson shouted, eager to speak up for his stout friend. “A coranwr called Grigor helped us find our way, he was a nice man, had some really good stories too. But he’s the last one, all of his people were killed because people were afraid of them for no good reason…”

            Finally, this task seemed one fitting of Arawn’s merits. “I remember serving their kind, ferrying them to the endless caverns here in Annwn so that they might live in peace. This Grigor though, I will do what I can for him. Such a man will no doubt be indispensable to our cause, and should I find a way to restore his people, I will do so.”

            “The Salmon of Llyn Llyw, he used to swim the great rivers but now he’s trapped in that ever-shrinking lake.” Maeve mentioned the wise old fish that had guided them, reckoning it was time that others helped him. “He’s hard to find but, maybe you could find a way to give him his freedom again.”

            “Gladly, he’s guided many a righteous man on their path before they’ve arrived at my gates.” The king’s growing list was becoming more daunting by the second, though the challenges only breathed more life into his will to go on. “What else?”

            The exchange went on for some time, the plights of others never seeming to thin. The Knight of the Sparrowhawk would need his kingdom restored to its former glory, in fact countless others were in this same situation. From lowly farmhands who hid from monsters in the night to beleaguered rulers who tried as they might to hold on to some semblance of civilisation, all would need the help of this otherworldly king.

Lewis upheld his brother’s concerns and mentioned that there might still be a lonely owl out in those lands, awaiting to be returned to the beautiful maiden of flowers she truly was. A watery fortress might be returned to the people, its monster free walls now a potential sanctuary for all in the wild world. While the likes of the Afanc and Rhita Gawr had been slain however, there was no doubt the realm would need new heroes, with the likes of Arthur in the past, to drive the fiends that remained back to their dens. Yet not all were monsters in need of hunting, some had proven it was not so simple when it came to the legends. Twrch Trwyth should be rallied to, given a chance to roam without the fear of spears or arrows, to raise a litter once more in peace. By the time Arawn thought he had heard it all, the room was almost breathless.

            “I see why you would deem myself necessary now.” The king sat, thinking upon where he’d best start with this titanic quest.

            “There’s one last thing, but it might be the most difficult of all.” Maeve quietly proposed, having saved what was dearest to her for last.

            “And what might be more trying than all of this?”

            “My great grandfather, Myrddin. Years after he hid away my grandma, the past he was so afraid of caught up with him.” She explained meagrely, remembering Ceridwen’s hopelessness when discussing the old wizard’s fate.

            “We saw him, imprisoned beneath the earth by Nimue. He wasn’t himself...but I swear he recognised us.” Zoe spoke fondly of what had been a most perplexing meeting at the time, though she’d understood the enchantress’s grave warnings about interfering. “This Nimue, she’s a fairy, he taught her all he knew, she’s as powerful as Myrddin ever was, even more so.”

            “Asking you to do this, it’d be…” Maeve felt the danger might be greater than anything she’d face in Annwn.

            “My honour, certainly.” The king gladly agreed to this final task, “Myrddin set all of this in motion after all, whether he knew it or not, and brought you all here this day. What better way to honour Abertha’s memory than to save the man she saw fit to help. I will see him free, of that you have my word.”

            “Thank you.” Maeve smiled, grateful beyond measure.

            “So, when do I get to see my girl again?” Raymond pressed the question again.

            “After all this is done? My…” Arawn pondered before falling back to the familiar time he’d set for Pwyll, “...let us say a year and a day.”

            Her parents were flustered at the prospect, but Maeve assured them with a smile, “Think of it like a year out.”

            “Indeed. If all is agreed upon, then say your goodbyes and I shall send those of you who cannot remain back.” The king went to see to Gwydion and Amaethon, giving the Elderkins their space, “In little over a year you shall see each other once more.”

            They all crowded to say their farewells, Hope and Fred weeping already. The rush of planning a return to peace for all those that had helped them had distracted from the crushing cost of their sister’s company.

            “I’m going to miss you sis.” Hope whimpered, hugging her older sister tight, “Don’t let anyone tell you what to do up here, you be you.”

            “I will.” Maeve tearfully nodded over her shoulder, “I’m going to miss you too.”

            “Don’t let Gwydion slack off, he’s doing all the dangerous stuff okay? Not you.” Fred wanted to make sure his sister would delegate as she was often so good at doing, “I’m giving you permission to be bossy.”

            “I’ll be fine Fred, you heard the king, he has to listen to me.” She knew her little brother was just worried for her but smiled along with his endearing teasing. She giggled, “You’re going to hate it when I come back.”

            “No, we won’t!” The jest flew over Orson’s head, “Come back as soon as you can and tell us all about it!”

            “Hey, don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. It’s just a year.”

            “And what a year it will be!” Taliesin enthusiastically declared, “You must make a record of it all, I’m sure there will be songs to be had from it.”

            “I might try and write some of my own.” She smiled, a glint in her eye.

            “Coop’s going to love to hear those when you get back.” Lewis knelt down and pulled his niece in for a hug, “You take care now, okay?”

            “You too Uncle Lewis, I can’t wait to see how much he’s grown.” She held on, not wanting to part as her uncle stood aside to let her parents say their goodbyes. “Mum, Dad, it won’t be long.”

            “It’s going to be the longest year of our lives honey.” Raymond embraced his daughter, the three of them huddling together in the centre of the iridescent court.

            “But we’ll never stop thinking about you, never ever.” Zoe promised.

            “If you need us don’t you hesitate to call or whatever you can do here, run to that tree even and we’ll come ourselves.” Raymond had to let his girl know she wasn’t alone even though he felt as if they were abandoning her.

            “Thank you Dad, Mom...but I honestly think I’m going to be okay; you know?” She sounded oddly happy for once, as if she’d found a place where she belonged, if only for now.

            “We know you will be.” Zoe pushed a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear so that she might look at her fully whilst she still could, “I love you honey.”

            “So much.” Raymond echoed.

            “I love you guys too.” Maeve sobbed, never wanting to let go.

            Their teary farewells could have lingered forever had Arawn not called back to them, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah…” Maeve sniffed, releasing herself from her parents embrace, “...yeah I think so.”

“Very well.” Arawn stood by Maeve now, looking to those he would be sending back with the humility of a king before his court of knights. “To you all, this old king is forever indebted…till we meet again.”

Zoe looked on with pride at her daughter one last time, stood amongst the likes of Arawn, Gwydion and Amaethon. Lost fables she’d brought a new lease of life to. Maeve smiled back as all went white and the halls of Annwn were soon nothing but a memory.