The Winner Takes It All

Part 2 of 4.5 "The Stars Were Bright" found in "The Red Book of Rhiannon"

Jul 23, 2025

(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.

←Go to Part 1

Ardwyad ap Osian emerged from the Great Hall, limping a little heavier than normal. A long day of standing stiffened his leg despite the buoyancy of the caer’s watery atmosphere.

He found Branwen standing in the Royal Quarter’s park, looking up at the translucent membrane that protected Caer Morgana from the ocean’s wilder elements. He buried the disappointment that his work hadn’t interested her enough to watch. :Everything all right?: He touched her sleeve, drawing her attention.

She blinked at him. :What? Oh yes, everything is fine, just fine.:

Walking arm in arm, they leaned into each other, returning to the home he shared with her and his mother. :I invited Llallogan and Heledd to our handfasting. Heledd said she would say the Lady’s blessing over us.:

:Was Llallogan insufferable?:

Ardwyad chuckled. :Completely. You’d think being a prophet would mean he’s used to being right.:

Branwen laughed, a soft, joyful tinkling in his mind. She had not laughed much over the last few days. Mother told him not to fret. Nerves were common before a handfasting.

So were second thoughts, Ardwyad knew. Smiling, he kissed her cheek. :In just a few days…: He went to kiss her again but she stepped ahead, walking away.

She looked over her shoulder like she knew his heart had precipitously dropped. :I love you, you know.:

Ardwyad caught up to Branwen, hobbling. :I know, mi cariad, but I also know something is bothering you.:

She glanced up at the caer’s translucent membrane. :It’s probably nothing,: she murmured.

:Go on.: If it bothered her, it wasn’t nothing.

:These last few weeks, the water looks different. It … swirls more.:

Ardwyad looked up. Bubbles made swirling patterns across the membrane. He’s never really paid attention to the membrane above. It was just … there.

Branwen continued, :I was trained on weather patterns above the waves, so maybe it’s just a seasonal thing? I haven’t been here a full year yet.: She gnawed her lower lip.

:Mother is close to the sea-rice foragers. They would be the most aware of any changes.:

Their evening meal awaited them. Ardwyad let his mother eat before broaching the subject.

:It has been getting colder lately,: she replied. :Owen says the lanternfish can only be found in the outer sea-rice beds these days and a new current seems to be running up to is from the Deeps.:

:That’s why it’s been colder.:

:This is unusual.: Branwen looked for confirmation.

:I don’t remember it happening in my lifetime. The bards will know.: His mother nodded toward Branwen. :They hold our histories,: she explained.

With no cases to present the following day, Ardwyad took Branwen in search of a bard. They soon found one at a drinking establishment and explained their concerns.

:Weather?: The bard Maelgwyn curled a lip. :That’s what you think. This isn’t weather.:

:Oh.: Branwen deflated a little. :What is it then?:

The bard leaned forward. In a dramatic whisper loud enough for those nearby to hear, Maelgwyn replied, :A curse.:

Both Ardwyad and Branwen blanched.

Ardwyad frowned. :There’s a story about this?:

Maelgwyn shrugged. :There’s a story for everything.:

:We just got through a famine,: remarked a draig môr near them. :How can we avoid this curse?:

Branwen and Ardwyad exchanged glances.

:No,: Ardwyad thought at her. :It can’t be. There’s no way something Above Sea could affect the caer.:

:My speech was affected both above and within the water,: Branwen reminded him, :and three kisses are still required every morning.:

They had yet to figure out how to permanently remove the curse of Branwen’s shouting about battle and vegetables. Ardwyad hoped that once they dragon-danced and consummated their hand fasting, Branwen’s speech impediment would vanish. Not that he objected in the slightest to the morning kisses.

:To remove the curse, we need to remove the cause,: the bard Maelgwyn intoned.

:What’s the cause?:

:The prophet will know,: Maelgwyn said.

:The goddess brought you here,: Ardwyad whispered. :She would not bring danger upon us.:

Beneath the table, Branwen squeezed his hand. :I hope so.:

The next morning, Ardwyad, Branwen, and Ardwyad’s mother walked toward the Royal Quarter. A meeting had been called about the changing waters around the caer.

Branwen’s gaze drifted upward. She whimpered. :Look!:

Above them, a patch of the translucent membrane, normally smooth, had creased into a boxed octagonal pattern.

Ardwyad’s gills flattened against his neck. :That can’t be good.:

They hurried along, joining the crowd gathering in the Great Hall. They couldn’t avoid hearing the drift of the gossip current. :Everything was fine until she came.: :Did you see her hand?: :And with his foot? They make a right pair.: :Ardwyad wouldn’t hurt a sardine, but we don’t know anything about her.:

The three of them drew closer together. Ardwyad slung a protective arm about Branwen’s waist. :I won’t them hurt you. Llallogan will speak to them and this will all be settled.:

Branwen remained silent, her gaze darting about the Great Hall.

The Chosen Court entered from the palace side of The Great Hall, stepping directly onto the dais that was several steps up from the floor. They looked calm, if unsmiling. Queen Heledd allowed those gathered to share the strange things that they had noticed both inside and out of the caer.

When repetitions began, she raised her hand. :We have noticed and been previously informed of these matters as well. Llallogan has been communing with the goddess. Prophet?:

Llallogan stepped forward. :The goddess is as concerned as we are, but the messages she sent in my dreams were nonsensical. This is not the Lady’s doing.:

:Where does that leave us then?: called one. :Do we take care of it ourselves?: The way that draig môr looked at Branwen gave Ardwyad chills.

:No need,: Llallogan said. :We have it well in hand. I asked for clarity and she gave it. A confused god has stumbled into her domain. He belongs Above Sea and speaks of plants.:

:Shit.: Ardwyad and Branwen thought simultaneously.

Branwen stepped forward.

Ardwyad caught her sleeve. :No, please don’t.:

She sent him a sad half-smile over her shoulder, his silver-black hair framing her face. :I have read the signs of the storm. It is time for me to shine bright and save us all.:

:But—:

:You saved me once, mi cariad. It’s my turn to save you.:

Ardwyad followed Branwen through the crowd, unwilling to let her face this alone. The other dreigiau môr cleared the way for her until they reached the front of the dais.

:The god is mine,: Branwen called out. :I will send him away.:

Llallogan sent Ardwyad an apologetic look.

Ardwyad glared at the prophet. :I’m going with her. This god needs to see she is not alone.:

A roar shook the Great Hall, cracks forming along the walls.

Branwen broke into a run. :Take me to the gate!: she yelled. Geraint led the way. She didn’t look back.

Ardwyad hobbled after her, shaking off Llallogan’s restraining hand. Shifting into his dragon form as he went through the gate, Ardwyad flipped upside down, thanks to his forgetting to compensate for his deformed tail.

He righted himself, swimming out into the ocean. The currents tossed him every which way. He tumbled end over end, smashing into a corner of the palace’s stone gate.

Ardwyad felt something crack along his spine. His gills spasmed. The water pinned him against the gate.

Strength failing, his gaze followed Branwen’s trajectory. A sliver of sinuous green scales, she hovered before the image of a young, well-muscled man surrounded by cloud. His hair curled around his face in shades of pale green and gold. Grey eyes glinted.

:Bash up the bladder wrack!: the god boomed. He flung out an arm, capturing Branwen in a waterspout.

The god didn’t recognize her. Black spots dancing before his eyes, Ardwyad sent the image of Branwen in her human form to the god.

Branwen started to sing, a haunting melody that started as a slow alternation of high notes and descended into a sensual croon.

The waterspout fell away. She swam toward the handsome god, who hovered open-mouthed.

She kissed him, her claws tangling in the god’s hair.

Ardwyad wished for oblivion. His chest hurt. He coughed. The current whisked away the blood trailing from his lips.

Twice more, she kissed him and on the third kiss, the god wrapped his arms around her and shot toward the surface.

Llallogan dragged Ardwyad back through the gate into the palace. The draig môr’s heels dragged through the sand. No matter how he tried, Ardwyad, barely conscious, couldn’t move his legs.

Healers surrounded him while he briefed Llallogan on what had occurred.

:You will go after her?: Llallogan sounded equal parts hopeful and doubtful.

Ardwyad didn’t blame him. It hurt to even contemplate shaking his head. :No. The tynged calls for three kisses from a non-human male. The god Taranis fits that description as well as I. More so, given that she is promised to him.:

Ardwyad closed his eyes, not wanting to see Llallogan’s pity.