05-22-2022, 11:51 PM
Brigid had been watching the High King from the opening of the small hallway. His little trick with the net of fire was a masterful stroke against Uscias. The little prick never saw it coming; thus he was unable to counter it with the sword. It begrudged her to admit that Nuada had chosen wisely. The new High King needed plenty of polish, but the right mind was there.
“And what exactly are they supposed to do?” Lugh asked her with an air of impatience, “The only thing I can see is that they’ve made the guards vomit and one of them knocked me out when I tried to remove it from your Granddaughter.”
Brigid’s eyebrows rose a fraction, “But it is off her, yes?”
“The Druidess Tlachtga removed it after I behaved carelessly, yes. Little Áine is safe under the Hill. Tlachtga is seeing to her care for the time being,” he replied with a slight nod, his hand falling to the sword at his belt. The High King began to caress the hilt thoughtlessly. She could already hear the High Council giggling in delight over the recovery of the sword – they might even be pleased to hear that Uscias was taken out.
There would be no room in the Isles for sedition or treachery. The Fomorians could not be allowed to establish a foothold anywhere. Surely a garrison would need to be installed on the Isle of Tory.
Brigid moved into the room, taking her time in coming to Gobain’s aid. From the looks of him, he took no wounds in the battle that had just concluded; but then, he looked the worse for wear. She spun out three Fibers of Spirit and delved her son. True to her visual assessment, the only thing wrong with him was malnourishment and exhaustion. Still, she wove all five of the Powers and Healed him. Within moments, his eyes fluttered open and a groan escaped his lips. She helped him to sit up and deposited a kiss upon both of his cheeks.
“You should have come when I beckoned,” Brigid whispered to her son.
“Even after all of this, I still would not. He needs us, Mother. The Isles need us,” Gobain whispered back as he rested his head upon her shoulder.
“We can discuss that later. The Fomorians have taken your brother, Credne,” Brigid replied as her hand went up on its own accord, stroking her sons hair away from his face.
Gobain straightened at Brigid’s revelation, turning to look her in the eye. Her hand fell away and she looked back to Lugh – who had clearly been listening in.
“He’s right, you know,” Lugh said simply.
Brigid sighed and nodded her head, “Yes, it appears that he is right. I’ve lost one son to a King’s war. Shall I lose the other two?”
“I cannot promise their safety, Brigid,” Lugh said honestly, “You know that. I can tell you that I do not ask you three to fight for me. I ask for your support through your skills. The Isles need to be strong. I fear that this incursion reaches further than Uscias.”
Brigid considered this for a time, silently staring into the High King’s eyes. He did not flinch, nor did he turn away. She finally broke their gaze and turned her head over to Abcan, “Well, old friend. What say you? Is this a man that will guide us through the gathering storm?”
Abcan was uncharacteristically quiet as he looked upon Lugh. The High King looked as if he was about to reprimand the bard but thought better of it. A feline grin spread across Abcan’s face as he noticed the restraint.
“Handle him like a son and he will shape up in no time, Bri,” Abcan finally said with a lilt to his voice.
Lugh’s mouth opened, but Brigid went right over him, “Fine. We shall return to the hill, but you are to recover my other son. If he has not been rescued within the month – or if he perishes – I will take Gobain and his family across the Eastern Sea and no Dagda shall ever lay eyes upon us again.”
Gobain stiffened at that, but Brigid simply laid a hand on his shoulder. He said nothing. Brigid simply stared intently at Lugh, awaiting his response. He looked from her to Abcan and then back to her before taking a knee and bringing his right fist up to his heart, pounding his chest three times.
“I swear by the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth to see your son, Credne, rescued from the Fomorians, or may Danu’s face turn from me forever and the Morrigan consume my soul,” Lugh offered up the most formal pledge he could muster. Brigid rose from her seat on the ground and bent to kiss Lugh’s forehead.
“This pledge is accepted,” Brigid replied formally.
Lugh looked up at her with a roguish smile before leaping back to his feet.
“Splendid. Gobain, let’s find your wife and return to the Hill,” Lugh announced before spinning on his heel and marching out of the room. Brigid sighed as she helped her son back onto his feet.
“I meant it, Bri,” Abcan said as he came to stand near them, “Just give him a chance.”
“Does he know?” Brigid asked Abcan, a smirk beginning to touch her lips.
“He’s married,” Abcan replied as he looked away from her with a scowl.
“Kings have been known to take lovers. He has already sired an heir,” Brigid went on.
“Don’t we have another prisoner to free?” Abcan asked with a croak in his voice before chasing after Lugh.
“You are wicked,” Gobain murmured as Brigid lead him out of the room.
“That is one of my redeeming qualities, love,” Brigid said as she kissed him on the cheek.
“And what exactly are they supposed to do?” Lugh asked her with an air of impatience, “The only thing I can see is that they’ve made the guards vomit and one of them knocked me out when I tried to remove it from your Granddaughter.”
Brigid’s eyebrows rose a fraction, “But it is off her, yes?”
“The Druidess Tlachtga removed it after I behaved carelessly, yes. Little Áine is safe under the Hill. Tlachtga is seeing to her care for the time being,” he replied with a slight nod, his hand falling to the sword at his belt. The High King began to caress the hilt thoughtlessly. She could already hear the High Council giggling in delight over the recovery of the sword – they might even be pleased to hear that Uscias was taken out.
There would be no room in the Isles for sedition or treachery. The Fomorians could not be allowed to establish a foothold anywhere. Surely a garrison would need to be installed on the Isle of Tory.
Brigid moved into the room, taking her time in coming to Gobain’s aid. From the looks of him, he took no wounds in the battle that had just concluded; but then, he looked the worse for wear. She spun out three Fibers of Spirit and delved her son. True to her visual assessment, the only thing wrong with him was malnourishment and exhaustion. Still, she wove all five of the Powers and Healed him. Within moments, his eyes fluttered open and a groan escaped his lips. She helped him to sit up and deposited a kiss upon both of his cheeks.
“You should have come when I beckoned,” Brigid whispered to her son.
“Even after all of this, I still would not. He needs us, Mother. The Isles need us,” Gobain whispered back as he rested his head upon her shoulder.
“We can discuss that later. The Fomorians have taken your brother, Credne,” Brigid replied as her hand went up on its own accord, stroking her sons hair away from his face.
Gobain straightened at Brigid’s revelation, turning to look her in the eye. Her hand fell away and she looked back to Lugh – who had clearly been listening in.
“He’s right, you know,” Lugh said simply.
Brigid sighed and nodded her head, “Yes, it appears that he is right. I’ve lost one son to a King’s war. Shall I lose the other two?”
“I cannot promise their safety, Brigid,” Lugh said honestly, “You know that. I can tell you that I do not ask you three to fight for me. I ask for your support through your skills. The Isles need to be strong. I fear that this incursion reaches further than Uscias.”
Brigid considered this for a time, silently staring into the High King’s eyes. He did not flinch, nor did he turn away. She finally broke their gaze and turned her head over to Abcan, “Well, old friend. What say you? Is this a man that will guide us through the gathering storm?”
Abcan was uncharacteristically quiet as he looked upon Lugh. The High King looked as if he was about to reprimand the bard but thought better of it. A feline grin spread across Abcan’s face as he noticed the restraint.
“Handle him like a son and he will shape up in no time, Bri,” Abcan finally said with a lilt to his voice.
Lugh’s mouth opened, but Brigid went right over him, “Fine. We shall return to the hill, but you are to recover my other son. If he has not been rescued within the month – or if he perishes – I will take Gobain and his family across the Eastern Sea and no Dagda shall ever lay eyes upon us again.”
Gobain stiffened at that, but Brigid simply laid a hand on his shoulder. He said nothing. Brigid simply stared intently at Lugh, awaiting his response. He looked from her to Abcan and then back to her before taking a knee and bringing his right fist up to his heart, pounding his chest three times.
“I swear by the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth to see your son, Credne, rescued from the Fomorians, or may Danu’s face turn from me forever and the Morrigan consume my soul,” Lugh offered up the most formal pledge he could muster. Brigid rose from her seat on the ground and bent to kiss Lugh’s forehead.
“This pledge is accepted,” Brigid replied formally.
Lugh looked up at her with a roguish smile before leaping back to his feet.
“Splendid. Gobain, let’s find your wife and return to the Hill,” Lugh announced before spinning on his heel and marching out of the room. Brigid sighed as she helped her son back onto his feet.
“I meant it, Bri,” Abcan said as he came to stand near them, “Just give him a chance.”
“Does he know?” Brigid asked Abcan, a smirk beginning to touch her lips.
“He’s married,” Abcan replied as he looked away from her with a scowl.
“Kings have been known to take lovers. He has already sired an heir,” Brigid went on.
“Don’t we have another prisoner to free?” Abcan asked with a croak in his voice before chasing after Lugh.
“You are wicked,” Gobain murmured as Brigid lead him out of the room.
“That is one of my redeeming qualities, love,” Brigid said as she kissed him on the cheek.