A Little Bit More
a short story 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.
Before Emrys ap Cynfelyn became the Esteemed, he traveled the seas as very few dreigiau môr do. Often, he landed on remote beaches populated only by seals and gulls.
One day, as Emrys relaxed on one of these isolated beaches, a figure surged over the shoreline. Startled, Emrys leapt to his feet, ready to defend himself, although being Above Sea, without tail or teeth, he was ill-equipped.
The pink-stained foam subsided, leaving a young naked woman in its wake.
Blood streamed from her many wounds, sinking into the sand around her. Long dark hair, strung with sand and bits of seaweed, tangled across her back and concealed her face.
Four heads surfaced just offshore. Dreigiau môr.
Emrys took one look at them, saw their triumphant grins, and made a decision. He gathered the unconscious woman in his arms, hefting her onto his shoulder.
He ran. He could not outdistance, let alone defeat, four dreigiau môr but perhaps he could lure them away from the water, enough to gain a head start in returning to the sea.
Glancing back, he saw two follow, surging ashore. A brief glance out to sea revealed the other two swam in parallel to the beach.
He muttered a curse. Change of plan.
He slid the woman off his shoulder, depositing her onto the sand. In the same movement, he sank into a crouch, ready to launch. “Do you know who I am?” His hoarse voice cracked, the air whisking painfully through his vocal cords.
The two dreigiau môr on the beach came to a halt. They exchanged glances, lips and jaws tightening. Emrys sensed thoughts running between them. The silver torc about Emrys’ neck should have been sufficient. Did they argue about his identity or whether it made a difference?
“We just want the woman.” One pointed to the collapsed figure behind Emrys.
“You cannot have her. I claim her—” It was archaic language but Emrys figured his royal lineage allowed him that much.
“She flirted with Owain. She’s not yours to take.”
“Really? I think you know who I am. Further, it’s her choice. She ran from you and your fellows. She’s badly wounded. What did you do to her?” Emrys straightened, frowning. Clearly they hadn’t thought through their actions or the consequences.
Their mulish expressions offered proof for that.
“Leave.” Emrys didn’t offer it as a suggestion. “Leave before I learn your names as well.”
The other draig môr stepped forward. “What can you do? Nobody would know—”
Emrys scooped up a stone from the beach with his toe. In one smooth movement, he caught it and hurled it, striking the speaker between the eyes.
The draig môr collapsed, his mouth agape, soundless.
Emrys retrieved another stone. “You were saying?”
The one still standing backed off. “We’ll be waiting.” He grabbed his companion’s arms and dragged him back into the sea.
None surfaced after that. They could still be out there, waiting.
Emrys knelt beside the woman, glancing toward the ocean for their return.
Her belly, breasts and thighs were badly scraped from beaching herself. Long gashes ran along the length of her body, about her belly and thighs particularly. It was a wonder she had not been torn open.
Why had she thought Above Sea would provide safety? Was she human herself? Had she a human lover? He surveyed the cliffs above them. If so, there was no sign of one.
By the nature of his position, as a young prince of the royal family, his frequent peregrinations away from Caer Morgana had not been permitted until he completed self-defence and battle training. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for that decision. That training included emergency healing spells and he needed those now.
He chanted the words of those spells, focusing upon the deepest wounds. The blood flow slowed to a trickle, then oozed. All should have been well at that point, but blood continued to soak into the sand around her hips.
Emrys rolled the unconscious woman onto her side. Slashes etched her back and made a pulpy mess of her buttocks.
What had they done? Or tried to do? What had she escaped?
He healed the wounds on her back. The temporary magical cautery needed to last long enough to reach the palace. She could not to leak blood while they traveled for more experienced care. Other predators hunted the ocean besides dreigiau môr.
He hesitated. Nakedness was natural to a draig môr and bodily autonomy was to be respected. Those louts had not respected her. Even in the the act of healing, he worried how she might react.
He rolled her onto her back. In that short interval, her belly swelled unnaturally. Internal bleeding? He sighed, wishing he had the healing gift. His gift of discerning truth was not particularly helpful right now. He placed his hand over her swollen flesh and whispered the healing spell of cautery, hoping it would work beneath the surface of her skin. She needed a healer at once.
The emergency over, Emrys took his first close look at her. He brushed off the wet clumps of her long black hair covering her face and gasped.
Her delicate features included a perfect, small nose and rosebud lips, parted to reveal a hint of even, white teeth. Her soft and round face ended in a slightly pointed chin. A single mole edged her left nostril. He’d treated the most beautiful draig môr in Caer Morgana.
Emrys slowly let out a breath. He had never seen her at court, but he knew of her, the prized beauty of shopkeepers: Gorawyn ferch Diegr.
Her eyes fluttered open, a dark blue.
Yes, he had done the right thing in claiming her. He hoped she would agree.
:What have you done?: Gorawyn’s thought flashed cold even as her skin flushed a deep rose pink.
Emrys canted his head to one side with a puzzled frown. :I don’t understand—you were bleeding. Rather a lot. Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed that I—: Had he been mistaken as to her identity? Was she not a Caer Morgana resident after all? Those who lived on or near the shore had some strange ideas. It would explain her embarrassment.
He changed tack. :Do you live near here?:
She shook her head, attempting to sit. Groaning, she sank back, her chest heaving with the effort. :Caer Morgana, same as you.:
Emrys sat back on his heels. :You know who I am.: Of course, his silver torc.
She nodded, turning her head away, her long dark hair concealing her face. Was she embarrassed because a prince tended to her?
:You have the advantage,: Emrys told her, keeping his thought soft and light in tone, :but none of that matters. You need a proper healer before my spells fall undone.:
She curled up into a ball. :I can’t go home. I’m not supposed to go out of the caer alone.:
:Let me take you to the palace?: he asked, not deciding for her.
She didn’t respond, panting softly, still in considerable pain.
:Nobody will know, but you, myself and the best healer I can find. The damage can be mended.:
:Very well.: Her thought came small and scared.
He picked her up and strode into the sea. :What is your name?: he asked, even though he knew the answer, his lips pressed against her dark hair.
:Gorawyn,: she whispered, sagging against him.
He sank beneath the waves, metamorphosing into his draig môr shape as did she. He held her against his serpentine body, her head nestled beneath his chin. She let him do all the swimming, hanging limp in his grasp.
No sign of her attackers. He made all speed for Caer Morgana and the palace.
As soon as they were within range, Emrys called ahead, asking for a healer and discretion.
His steward met him outside Caer Morgana, at the palace gate. He ceased his wormlike writhing upon seeing him. :I thought it was you,: the steward chided, relief and concern warring on his serpentine features. He glanced at the draig môr in Emrys’ arms and led them through the gate without further comment.
No other guard stood between them and Emrys’ small suite of rooms. Emrys lay Gorawyn upon his bed. She’d fallen unconsciousness again. Her wounds had reopened, weeping blood, the emergency healing spells having worn off. Emrys tried not to notice how the dark blood stained her robes.
The healer and her assistant took over, banishing Emrys and his steward from the bedchamber. Emrys related all that happened while they waited.
:It will be up to your mother to decide their fate, but there is no proof they did this to her except for her word,: his steward advised once he’d heard the story.
Emrys shook his head. :That girl won’t want a public trial.: Such violent acts between dreigiau môr could not be allowed.
His steward frowned. :Then be careful how you act.:
Emrys nodded, looking toward the bedchamber. :She will stay here until she’s recovered.:
:Her family—:
:We’ll figure something out.:
Gorawyn woke in a strange, darkened room. A warm hand lay over hers. She slipped free of his loose grasp.
A soft glow momentarily blinded her.
She lay in a huge bed and Emrys, Prince of Caer Morgana, sat at her bedside. Embarrassment flamed, heating her face. She peeked at him through her fingers, catching a strange expression on the prince’s face. Concern? Longing? She’d admired Emrys from afar, every girl did, but to be thrust into his sphere in such an indelicate way… He clearly didn’t know her, so the loss of potential connection was minimal. Yet… She wondered for a moment what it would be like to remain in his orbit.
She focused again on his face. :Thank you.:
He nodded. :You are welcome to stay here until you are healed, and,: he added before she could list her objections, :I would very much like us to be friends.:
:Friends?: came her breathless reply. What could he mean by that? Why her?
:Friends,: Emrys affirmed. :At least … at least to start.: His wry smile squeezed at her heart.
Gorawyn focused on making her gills move normally instead of crazily fluttering the way her heart batted against her ribs. Emrys was way out of her league and yet… she squashed the hope. He was being kind, that was all. A lip service to make a citizen feel better.
:I need to return home,: she said, making an effort to sit. :I will be missed.:
:You would have to explain your injuries,: Emrys pointed out. :Rest another day, or longer.:
:Another day.: Gorawyn subsided against the pillows. :I don’t want them to know.:
He nodded. :I’ll make sure you leave the palace unnoticed. Just… stay until you are healed.:
:That would be for too long,: Gorawyn told him, picking at the seaweed coverlet with her fingertips. :I’ll let them know I’m staying with a friend for a few days.:
Emrys’ smile broadened, his shoulders relaxing.
Her skin prickled, fear shivering though her. :But we are not the only ones who know.:
His smiling expression vanished. :I’ll deal with it. You won’t need to worry about them.:
Two days later, after the healer made her last examination of her, Gorawyn took her leave. She would always bear scars, but her robes hid the damage that her draig môr form would make all too clear.
Emrys’ steward smuggled her out of the palace. During those two days, Emrys had left her alone to rest and heal, drifting in every now and then. At night, he slept on the floor near the door.
After a few days of her absence, Emrys charged his steward with finding out more about her. He knew only that she was a shopkeeper’s daughter.
:Her father is a weaver,: the steward told him the next day. :It seems she’s involved with those … those young women who ogle you and pine for you.:
Emrys grimaced, knowing his steward expected that from him. It explained her blushes and her embarrassment. All those girls wanted to catch his eye, to be romanced by him, as if there weren’t plenty more fish in the sea. It bothered him that she held the same shallow sentiments as those girls, but those dark blue eyes of hers, frightened and seeking reassurance, returned to him again and again.
Delyth blinked at her friend. :You got an invite to the palace? You?:
Gorawyn nodded. They sat in the front window of her father’s shop, waiting for customers. :I don’t … I don’t think I should go.: She wanted to see Prince Emrys again but—the shadows of the day meant she was not ready to face him, or anyone. She had stayed home with only Delyth to visit her. If only she could confess to her friend Rhiannon, but she was away studying to become a bard.
:You should definitely go,: Delyth enthused, squirming in her seat. :You will get to see Prince Emrys up close! I want to hear all about it afterward.:
By the date of the party, everyone in Gorawyn’s circle of friends knew she’d been given this opportunity. Earlier, her friends had spent hours on her hair. They joined her at the palace entrance, watching as couples and families made their way inside.
Delyth nudged her friend. :What are you waiting for? Go!:
Gorawyn approached and shyly proffered her invitation.
The palace guard looked down his nose at her. :You girls will try anything to get in. Be off with you.:
She blinked at him, her lower lip quivering :But it’s real.: Her earlier nerves and doubts grew. :It is!:
:Stand aside.: The palace guard blocked her way.
She stumbled back. Her friends joined her, raising their voice in protest on her behalf.
Gorawyn said nothing. She knew it had been too good to be true. Her friends dreamed the impossible. She’d been dreaming too, to even consider a romance, let alone friendship, with the prince.
She stared through the broad stone-edged entrance, ignoring the shrieking and fist-waving of her friends, loudly expressing their anger on her behalf. Within the shadows of the palace doors, she spotted the prince standing with his father Cynfelyn and his mother, the Esteemed Nia, as they greeted their guests.
Emrys glanced her way before returning his attention to the guest before him. His gaze returned to her, and grew confused. :Why aren’t you coming in?: he thought at her.
:The guard won’t let me. Is this some kind of joke?: Her cheeks grew hot with the prospect of fresh humiliation.
Emrys frowned. :No, it’s not. Give me a moment.:
The palace guard jerked to attention. He looked wide-eyed at Emrys and then at her. A short private exchange occurred between Emrys and the guard.
Emrys bowed to the next guest and to his parents. He left the receiving line, heading directly for her.
Gorawyn’s heart started pounding. She tried to remember to breathe. Around her, her friends squealed and waved, bouncing up and down.
Passing the guard, Emrys halted before Gorawyn, extending a hand.
Wide-eyed, she accepted it. He drew her across the palace threshold and into the dazzling ballroom.
:Dance with me,: he murmured.
Wordless, she nodded, allowing him to draw her into the centre of the floor. Emrys nodded to the musicians and the music began. A simple dance, Gorawyn smiled with relief. He would not embarrass her further by making her attempt one of those fancy court dances.
The steps brought them close to each other, Emrys’ hand firm and warm on her lower back. They swayed. :Why?: she thought at him. :Why did you invite me? Why me?:
:Because I like you.:
Gorawyn stumbled over the next step. :What?:
Emrys pulled her in until their bodies pressed together. :I really like you. I don’t care if you’re one of those fanatical girls, or if your physical scars remain. I really like you, Gorawyn. I can’t stop thinking about you.: Emrys took a breath. His grey eyes seemed as wide as hers. :I regret missing the opportunity to get to know you better when you stayed with me.:
As Gorawyn recalled, she had spent most of her few days there drowsing, recovering from the onslaught of healing spells. Emrys had respected her distress and had kept his distance. :You do?:
:I do.: Emrys glanced down at her mouth and then back into her eyes. :I know we don’t yet know each other well, but … May I?:
Gorawyn shook her head. A kiss? :Not here. Not in front of everybody.:
Arm at her waist, Emrys whisked her through the dancers and out a set of double doors. They stood on a balcony overlooking the palace gardens. The darkened bushes sparkled with hung lanterns.
In the half-light, Gorawyn slipped out of his embrace. :Emrys, thank you for keeping my secret,: she said. :I know you wanted justice—:
:I took care of it, Gorawyn. You have my protection. None of them will bother you again.: The gloom created a space for confessions. He told her what he had arranged for them. He held her while she cried her relief. He asked after her health.
:I can’t believe I was so foolish to go out on my own, especially when Owain hadn’t stopped pestering me. I am not so beautiful any more.:
:You will always be beautiful to me,: Emrys murmured.
Hours passed in quiet conversation. The music in the royal hall faded along with the interior lights. At last, dawn trickled down from the heights, a faint golden light.
Emrys took a steadying breath and asked the question he’d wanted to ask again all night. :Gorawyn, may I kiss you?:
She nodded. His embrace tightened about her. He lowered his head, his gaze flicking between her mouth and checking her expression in case she changed her mind.
She liked that about him. Her hands plunged into his hair, drawing his head down until their lips met.
You might wonder if Emrys and Gorawyn got their ‘happy ever after’ as they call it Above Sea. I can tell you they married and were in love. But happy endings? That’s a story for another time.
Hint: you can read about it in A River Trembles, book two of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles.
Liked this story? Want to read more about Emrys ap Cynfelyn? He is currently a supporting character in A River Trembles, which you can start reading here, but you do need to read at least the last instalment of the previous serial, A Grail for Eidothea.
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(Go to All The Red Book of Rhiannon stories.)