Like I Win When I Lose
from "The Red Book of Rhiannon"
(Go to All The Red Book of Rhiannon stories.)
If you’re new to The Môrdreigiau Chronicles, welcome! You might find the Glossary helpful for some of these words. Colons indicate the sea dragon’s thought communications.
We don’t know what bargain the Goddess Morgaine made in order to give us a little piece of the oceans to reside in peacefully, but here is one of the old tales about it.
It had come to this. The Goddess Morgaine had begged, petitioned, even nagged at Him, until She had forced His hand and They had set upon this ridiculous show of power.
Ridiculous, because Poseidon knew He could crush Morgaine with a single word.
“You are a most foolish little goddess.” His voice boomed like waves crashing upon a breakwater in winter. He hovered above an underwater mountain, looking down at Her across the sandy plain separating them. Her vantage point of a tiny hillock seemed greatly diminished in comparison to His own.
Morgaine smirked at him. “I’m still standing, aren’t I?”
Deep within the sea, they had begun with simple displays of power but the matter quickly degenerated into a duel. They’d flung every spell and immortal power at each other over the last eight hours.
The sandy plain between them had long since emptied out of fish. The clump of seaweed near the centre decidedly looked worse for wear. Poseidon looked as crisp and fresh as ever. Morgaine glamoured to conceal her matted hair and tattered robes. She couldn’t lose this time. Too much was at stake.
The sea god exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “This is not your territory.”
The goddess Morgaine folded her arms. “I need just a little bit more.”
“You’re upsetting my little undersea pantheon.”
“That’s exactly what Lîr said.”
With a series of ululating cries, full of magic, Morgaine flung a barrage of starfish at Poseidon. They sped through the waters, the tips of their arms hardening into hard points.
Poseidon flung a deflection spell at them, and they all fell into the mountain below him, spewing puffs of shattered rock. All but one, which thunked into his bare knee. He grunted, peeling off the suckered creature.
With his trident, he struck the rock at his feet and called a Name.
Morgaine tensed, but no attack immediately came. She was about to taunt him, when through the gloom sliced a great white shark. A true monster, it nearly equaled Poseidon’s mountain in size. Its descendants today are but a quarter of their proportions.
It headed straight for her, the waters parting easily over its broad snout. A tail twitch spurred it forward.
The young goddess raised her arms, palms wide open, the spell a rapid fire retort of syllables. A giant hammer appeared and thwacked it on the nose. The shark let out a yelp and dove for cover.
“Ha!” she called. “Is that the best you can do, old man?”
“I am not old. I am eternal,” he retorted. Indeed, he looked in the prime of life, despite the white hair.
Too late, Morgaine wondered if there could have been another path to convincing him to surrender a bit of the sea. Her hand absently curved over her hip. She might have only been recently Made, thanks to her people, but they had made her all woman, needing a fertile sea goddess.
Poseidon noticed. Even over this great distance, she saw him swallow a sucked in breath.
With a twist of her wrist, she bade her cousins, the electric eels, to emerge from their hiding places within the mountain. The hail of starfish had already disturbed them, so they slithered forth willingly, rising to twine around Poseidon’s bare feet and ankles.
She made a fist.
The god stiffened, his hair standing on end as the eels shocked him. Lightning burst from his ears. Morgaine heard a warning thunder roll from far Above Sea. She might have gone too far. Yet she couldn’t lose her advantage.
She raised her arms, muttering a spell. A sea current whirled around her, gathering speed, before she flung it toward the sea god.
Poseidon batted it away with his triton, his muscled form moving with ease, as he directed her current to the surface.
He made a casual gesture, palm up. Three small waterspouts formed before him, spinning across the ocean floor to Morgaine’s small hilltop.
They encircled her, the swirl of water fading to reveal three simulacrums of Poseidon himself. Three incredibly handsome god-shapes naked from the waist up, muscles rippling. Each had His white hair. All possessed the same wrinkles in the corners of their deep turquoise eyes.
Morgaine surveyed each of them as they swam around her. The fin-shaped ears and the tiny fins at wrists and ankles helped them swim. She called to the real Poseidon. “Is this supposed to put me off? Or can I keep them if I concede?”
Bubbles stumbled from the sea-god’s lips. “What?”
Morgaine pirouetted, touching each Poseidon clone’s cheek in turn, whispering a spell. One by one, they sank to their knees, gazing up adoringly at her. One crawled to her and kissed her feet, a full obeisance.
“Morgaine,” Poseidon warned. The three fake gods winked out of existence.
She pouted. “Should I return the favour? How many copies of me would you like?”
“None.” Poseidon growled, the rumble of an underwater quake. It vibrated the stones beneath her feet. “This is getting boring. Surrender, Morgaine.”
“I cannot.” She wanted to sound calm, maybe even indignant, but a note of plaintive desperation escaped.
Poseidon posed, showing off his muscles and how well they bulged. Morgaine stifled a giggle. What did he mean by this?
A pod of killer whales dove from above, pushing a shockwave before them. Unable to shield herself in time, the wave knocked Morgaine off her feet. She landed, hard, the breath knocked out of her.
She tried to rise, her glamour spell draining away. No longer the alluring waveswept goddess, she knew she looked like a bruised and beaten-down beggar. She fell back, chest heaving with the effort. Her muscles failed to respond, shivering like jelly.
Poseidon dove from his mountain top toward her, a long shallow dive across the sandy field. He slid to his knees beside her, gathering her up in his arms. “Foolish little goddess,” he murmured. “You cannot defeat the Lord of all the oceans and all the seas.”
“Can I not?” Morgaine croaked. “Are you not on your knees before me?” She coughed, blood trickling from the corner of her lips.
“Still so fierce,” he murmured, his thumb wiping a tear that slipped unknowing from her eye. “What more will you pay for a such a small part of this sea?”
“Anything.” She saw by the glint in his eyes that he knew she spoke true.
“What is worth such a price?”
She shook her head. “Not what. Who.”
“I’m listening.”
“Finally.” She ignored his glower. “My people are being pushed into the sea. They will be murdered, erased from existence, unless I can find them a new home. Lîr will not take them.” She tapped on his bare chest, resisting the temptation to let his hand rest against the hard plane. “I will grow your kingdom, bring you a whole new people.”
He raised a white brow at that. “They worship you.”
Her fingertips traced a path across his pectoral muscle, nearing his nipple. “By their faith, they will remain strong—“
He snatched her exploring hand, gripping it tight. “I will not have my kingdom overrun.”
Some of the light returned to her eyes. “When I have recovered my strength, I can make it so they will not exceed their boundaries.”
“I will make sure they do not.” His stern voice brooked no compromise on that. “This is my offer: be my wife for a year and a day. Any child you conceive will be mine and mine alone. Then you shall have a snippet of my domain.”
She sat up at that, pushing him away. “My people don’t have a year and a day. They have maybe weeks. Their time is running out. When the big henge is completed—one they’ve already been enslaved to help build—that will be the end of them.”
His tight grip on her hand loosened, felt more like a caress. “Then our marriage starts now. You have worn yourself out battling me. How do you expect to build them a home when you are so depleted?”
She stared at him, eyes wide, her face pale. Bargain won, without her powers, she had just failed her people. “I—I—“
“Take my divinity, Morgaine.” He loomed over her. “Surrender to me and I will give you the strength you need.” Poseidon searched her face, waiting for her decision.
She reached up, framed his face in her hands, and kissed him. His divine essence flowed into her mouth, infusing her lungs, her limbs. He magicked away his large loincloth and her translucent white robe. Already rejuvenated, she met his heat eagerly with her own, welcoming his divine essence as it poured into her.
That is how the Goddess Morgaine secured us a home. That is also why one of the many ways we honour her is to form trysts of our own on the solstices and dragon dance, twined together, in the night sea.
This is part of the “30 Days of Writing Fantasy Challenge” hosted by
. Here’s the announcement for the writing challenge. The prompts can be found in that publication’s chat.Thanks for reading The Môrdreigiau Chronicles! Did you enjoy this and aren’t subscribed yet? It’s easy…
(Go to All The Red Book of Rhiannon stories.)
Ooh I like what you did with this prompt!