There's No Regret
The final part, I swear, for "The Stars Were Bright" from "The Red Book of Rhiannon"
(Go to All The Red Book of Rhiannon stories.)
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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.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Ardwyad, an advocate is tasked with dealing with an irate draig môr spouting nonsense outside the palace gate.. He cures her with a kiss, but it turns out she was bound to the god Taranis (a god of weather) as his Star, a protection for her village Above Sea. After forsaking her vow, she has finally returned to Caer Morgana with Ardwyad, but their relationship hasn’t resumed.
:I’ll never measure up,: grumbled Ardwyad. He righted himself from another corkscrew, thanks to the deformed fin on his tail.
:She chose you,: Llallogan scanned the gathering crowd on the rocky hilltops surrounding the large oval basin.
:That’s one way of looking at it.: Ardwyad surveyed his friend. The prophet wore a long cloak woven of black seaweed that floated in the current when it didn’t catch against his dorsal fin. A diadem threaded through his black locks. :Why have you dragged me out here?:
Llallogan cleared his throat. He paused a little too long for Ardwyad’s liking. :It’s better than you moping at home.:
:I’m not moping. I am busy with all my cases.:
:There are none today. I thought you would have appreciated not being at home with Branwen. Aren’t you avoiding her?:
:I’m not—: He was.
:Enjoy the day, friend.: Llallogan nudged him with his shoulder and descended from the hills down onto the plain.
Ardwyad settled onto the silty ground, gripping an outcropping of rock to anchor him against the gentle current. At least that way he wouldn’t flip upside down.
Queen Heledd met Llallogan in the centre of the broad oval. She wore a crown with whitened strands of seaweed threaded through it, so that they fluttered behind her. Other pale streamers draped her arms, legs and tail.
They circled, head to tail, spiralling out further and higher until they swam above the heads of the watching crowd.
:In honour of our generous goddess who fought for our freedom and a place to call home,: Heledd called out. :Let the games commence!:
Twenty-four dreigiau môr descended onto the plain as Heledd and Llallogan drifted to separate ends of the oval.
Each draig môr possesses a gift. There are gentle gifts like eidetic memory, cultivation, and healing. Today’s festival showed off the control of the various elements: from various glamours that changed appearance and shape to manipulating water, fire, and even small starfish.
Each group synchronised the demonstration of their skills, creating beautiful three-dimensional patterns across the oval’s white sands.
Between each group, Heledd and Llallogan returned to the field, repeating their ceremonial circles. Whenever they brushed against each other, a gesture of intimacy, the crowd cheered.
On a nearby hilltop, Ardwyad spotted his mother, Branwen alongside her. In the intervening months since she’d returned from Caer Morgana, she’d regained the weight she had lost. With his mother making the best rice-cakes in the caer, that was no surprise.
For him, she’d never lost her beauty, in either human or draig môr form. Her green scales glimmered.
He hated keeping her at a distance. He wanted her in his arms and yet … yet he wasn’t sure he could ever measure up to a literal god. This decisive uncertainty about their future, or lack thereof, wrecked him.
It didn’t help that everyone else—his mother, Llallogan, fellow advocates, his clients—all assumed they were together, or would be soon.
He would never love anyone else but her. She had accepted him, deformity and all. No other would again.
He huffed a sigh, stirring up the silt before him. He was getting too old for romance.
He spent the whole festival sneaking glances her way, watching her joy at the exquisite displays being played out on the oval below.
Branwen spotted Ardwyad the moment she and his mother found their places amongst the spectators. He’d left before breakfast, not even bothering with an excuse.
She hated that he avoided her. He had offered the hospitality of his home, but had kept her at arms length.
At first, she appreciated the time to shed the last vestiges of life with Taranis. But then she grew impatient. She wanted Ardwyad back, ached for his kisses and their camaraderie. She considered sneaking into his bedchamber and into his bed and showing him exactly how much she loved him, but fear held her back. If she rushed things, he and his broken heart could reject her.
And so she waited for him to show a sign of readiness.
His mother patted her arm, drawing her attention from Ardwyad. :This only happens every seven years, dear.:
Grimacing an apology, Branwen focused on the spectacle unfolding below and found herself utterly captivated by what she saw.
A hope swelled in her heart, one that she had never experienced before. It felt like a blessing.
When the intricate weaving and dancing of the ocean currents had ended, an experience felt as much upon the scales as seen with the multicolored sands, an expectant stillness settled over the crowd.
Branwen looked over at Ardwyad, curled up, alone, on the rocky outcrop. :I love you,: she thought at him.
His startled gaze bore into hers, there was something undefinable… He was too far away for her to be sure, and yet—
A wave of sighs swept through the dreigiau môr. :She’s here!: they whispered.
A hooded human figure, all in white and emitting a pale glow, strode across the oval’s white sands. Queen Heledd and Llallogan turned met her in the centre. She opened her arms and they fell into her embrace. The water around them shimmered.
:The Lady?: Branwen breathed in wonder.
:Once every seven years, she visits her Chosen Court,: Ardwyad’s mother explained, her thought awed.
The other members of the Chosen Court swam out to them, becoming lost in the shimmering water.
Branwen shielded her eyes with clawed hand. She looked up.
A dark dot blossomed in the sea, spreading like ink through water, growing bigger and bigger.
:Something’s up.: Branwen pointed above her to the dark blob.
The creature bugled a hoarse screech that sent shivers down Branwen’s spine.
The dark sprawling blob came into focus. A sea serpent with six heads—or were they massive spikes?—headed straight for the Chosen Court. The spikes moved with the current so it was hard for Ardwyad to tell.
:Lllallogan, don’t tell me this is why you wanted me here.:
From within the shimmering sphere, Llallogan responded. :Uhh, yes? It worked out the first two times.:
Queen Heledd broadcast a command to all present. :Danger approaches! Return to Caer Morgana!:
Ardwyad heard the grumbles, even as the people obeyed, streaming back to the caer. Like the solstice festivals, today was meant to end in drinking and dragon dances. The drinking had already started in some quarters.
He eyed the approaching monster. Instead of scales, stiff spikes covered the serpent. Its eyes seemed much too large for its head. The eyes were horrible to look upon: no iris, no whites, but a bruised mottle of weeping red, purple and dark green spattered across the sheened black surface.
Ardwyad launched himself from the rocks he’d been clinging to, his trajectory wobbling thanks to his curled up fin. He had no idea how to help this incoherent beast, but the Lady wanted him to try.
Branwen swam back to the caer alongside his mother. The two of them frequently looked over their shoulders, trying to spot Ardwyad amongst the others. With his twisted fin, his progress would be slower.
Rising above the retreating dreigiau môr, Branwen turned to look back, scanning the crowd. She saw a draig môr head for the hydra, saw its tail flick sideways as it wobbled.
No. Branwen told Ardwyad’s mother, :Ardwyad needs help. I’m going back for him.:
:Of course, dear.: Her lack of concern meant she hadn’t seen her son head straight into peril.
:What are you doing?: Branwen called to him, swimming toward him.
:The Lady asks it.:
Like She had asked it of him to meet Branwen, battered and lost in broken language. But this was different, surely?
Branwen sped toward him, hoping she could reach him in time. To do what, she didn’t know, but her heart demanded she go.
:I am Ardwyad ap Osian,: the advocate called out to the creature, hoping it understood thought. :Are you in need of assistance?:
The creature veered away from him, yet still descended toward the shimmering sphere containing the Chosen Court.
Ardwyad swam to intercept. :I am here to listen.:
The spiky serpent roared. Three of its longer spikes arched and spat black dust at the rocky hilltops below. The coral shriveled up and turned black.
The points on the three spikes swelled and swiveled to face Ardwyad. The serpent’s head echoed the move, baring its fangs.
:Goddess! No!: Branwen screamed, broadcasting her terror to all.
Some dreigiau môr turned back; the rest hurried on.
Black dust burst from the spike-tips and propelled toward Ardwyad in an arrow-like cloud. He shrank back but couldn’t outrun it, his body enveloped in the glittering dust.
His body sank out of the bottom of the cloud landing heavily on the sandy plain. A plume of sand rising around him.
Branwen sped to his side, ignoring Llallogan’s warning cries. She gathered up his limp form, ignoring the piercing pain where ever his scales contacted with hers.
Ardwyad was almost unrecognisable, his rust-brown scales hidden beneath a morass of oozing green, purple and red sores.
She wailed, her serpentine neck curling back to glare at the hovering monster above. Branwen tried to take another breath but her gills clogged with the noxious ooze.
A shining light burst from the sphere holding the Goddess and her Chosen Court. It streaked through the water, hitting the hideous hydra square in the chest.
It squealed, its stubby arms flailing to ward off the light. It cartwheeled backward until the light failed to reach him.
It uttered an indignant screech and scurried off into the blue.
Branwen lowered her head, suddenly too weary to hold it up, resting against Ardwyad’s head. It seemed right they would die together.
Something slammed into her back. She gasped, arching, as light filled her being and all her senses.
Branwen woke. She lay there, eyes closed, her senses extending to their limits. The excruciating pain from the hydra’s poison had dissipated, leaving behind an ache that usually came with too much exertion.
The water around her was still, not even a small current smoothing over her … skin, not scales. Someone must have brought her back to the caer. Somehow she survived.
A soft thump-thump sounded beneath her ear. She spread her fingers, encountering the definite form of a male chest.
Her head felt like wet wool but she raised it, looking down.
Ardwyad lay, eyes closed, the lines of his face softened by sleep. His gills fluttered with slow, deep breaths. No sign of any of the weeping sores that had riddled his draig môr form.
He lived. They both did.
She didn’t recognise the chamber they lay in. They were not at his home.
:Llallogan?: she essayed, hoping he would respond.
:Ah! You’re awake. Is Ardwyad?:
:Sleeping. Where are we? What happened?:
:The Lady combined our gifts with her divinity and healed you. You’re still on the plain. She has sealed you within a small membrane and you must stay there for two weeks until we’re sure all the poison is gone.:
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. :And if it returns?:
:You will both stay until it has run its course, or…: Llallogan trailed off.
:Or until we die.:
:You won’t. There is a small gate but it is set so that only food can come in. You won’t be able to leave until the Lady dissolves the membrane around you.:
Branwen stared down at Ardwyad. How would he feel being stuck with her for two weeks? She lay her head back down upon his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. She would enjoy this before the awkwardness began.
After a time, the rhythm of his heart sped faster.
:You’re awake?: she murmured.
:Mmm,: came the response.
She began to rise, but his arm curled around her shoulders.
:Don’t go.:
Branwen relaxed next to him. :Can’t. We’re in quarantine for at least two weeks.:
Ardwyad digested this news in silence. Branwen’s gills stilled, worried that now he would push her away.
At last, he spoke. :You came back for me.:
:I did.: She dared to stroke the plane of his chest, slipping her hand beneath his robe.
He let out a gusty sigh. :Branwen…: He rolled, pinning her beneath him. She gazed up at him, wide-eyed, hopeful. :May I kiss you?:
She looped one of his greying locks behind his ear. :You may.:
He stroked her hair, his dark gaze taking her in. His mouth descended upon hers, soft and unsure.
She kissed him back, cupping his head. Her kisses hinted at how she had missed him.
He let out a soft moan into her mouth and she tasted his hunger and longing for her.
Much later, limbs entangled, Ardwyad kissed her again. :I suppose we shall have to conduct many full body examinations until we’re sure the poison is gone.:
Branwen stretched, rubbing against him. :That doesn’t seem so bad.:
:Not at all.: His mouth slid along her jaw to her ear. :But Llallogan is going to be absolutely insufferable about this.:
They smiled at each other.
:That doesn’t seem so bad either.: Branwen drew his head down to hers.
None knew when the Lady’s son would return again (for the hydra was indeed Ahdeul according to Llallogan) but after a couple of generations with no sign of the creature, the dreigiau môr’s vigilance eased.
You may or may not have caught echoes of two other stories from last month:
This is response to two prompts, #16 from
’s 30 Days of Fantasy writing prompts (and she’s doing writing prompts again in September!) as well as Scoot’s prompt last week (and I ticked all the boxes):
Did you enjoy this? Let me know your thoughts in the comments or drop me a DM!
(Go to All The Red Book of Rhiannon stories.)