To Love

Right now this is not edited. Why? Haven't found anyone willing to help yet. I have read over it a bit so it shouldn't be too terrible.

Full summary: In a world where the gods hold physical bodies of giant and mystic trees. Ceiro is a young man that is given a task of becoming the host of a seed for the physical body of a new god. With the help of his cousin Taran and a servant boy Dyfad, they must not only keep the gods off their trail, but there are humans and fey that also do not wish for this new god's existence.

AN: The theme of this story is love. It is shown in many different forms throughout. The names are welsh. Ceiro means love, while Dyfad sounds very close to David, and Taran means thunder. Questions are welcome.

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Prologue

A woman sat at her wooden vanity, brushing her long blonde hair. She looked into the mirror, and gazed upon her reflection. Pale blue eyes stared back, as the thick bristled brush stroked through her hair, over and over.

“You are so beautiful my dear wife,” a deep voice says, as a large calloused hand comes to rest on her shoulder. Her eyes move to look at the image of a man with thick brown hair, eyes, and a graying beard.

Putting down the brush, she turns in her seat to face the man, “And you are just as handsome, Ivor,” she tells him, her hand coming up to cover his.

Ivor smiles as he leans down to kiss waiting lips. The woman stands and wraps her arms around wide shoulders, “Let us go to bed, husband.”

They kiss again, deeper this time, passion over coming their senses. Stumbling to the large bed covered in furs and red cloth. Someone groans as hands begin to roam and strings are loosened for easier removal of their night cloths.

A knock on the heavy wooden door, interrupts the tangle of limbs and tongues. Ivor groans and pulls away from his giggling wife, “Yes, what is it?” he demands.

A voice comes muffled through the door, “I am sorry for bothering you my Lord and Lady. There is a woman claiming to be Lady Belth‘s sister, my lord.”

Lady Belth gasps and pushes her husband so she can sit up, “Did she say what her name was?” she asks breathlessly. She can feel her heart thumping away in her chest as she waits.

“Ahe, she did. Said it was Hafina,” the servant’s voice tells them.

“It can not be,” Ivor says, baffled as he is again pushed aside by his near hysterical wife. He watches her retie her night cloths and pull her hair into a messy braid, “Glewna,” he calls his wife’s name, but is ignored.

She pulls her stockings back on and slips her feet into a pair of slippers, “Best to go to bed without me, Ivor. I do not know how long I will be,” she says, kissing him on the lips, “I will make it up to you,” she winks as she opens the door, revealing the waiting servant on the other side.

“Where is she now?” she asks while wrapping a plain shawl around her shoulders. The door closes heavily behind her, a draft from the swing chills her back.

“She is waiting in the pallor, my lady,” tells the servant.

She is handed a candle and in the better light Glewna sees that it is one of the kitchen maids, the young thing is also in her bed cloths. The maid’s mossy brown hair is pulled up into a scarf, and her wide watery eyes stares back.

“Make some tea and something to eat, I will see to my sister,” Glewna tells the maid and starts down the small hall. The stairs creeks as she travels down one trembling step at a time. If it wasn’t so dark she would be running down instead, her excitement was so great.

She arrives to the small pallor and her hands are shaking. Could her sister really be on the other side of this door? The sister she has not seen in over five years, that ran off with the man she loved.

The door opens and there she is, her beautiful sister Hafina. She is still beautiful even if she is dressed in a dirty torn cotton dress. Her dark curls are a tangled mess and there are bags under her pale blue eyes, but it is her belly full of child that draws in Glewna’s gaze.

Hafina smiles when she sees her, “Glewna, I am so happy to see you!” She walks awkwardly toward her sister, her gait hindered by her unborn child.

“Hafina, what are you doing here? Where is Deri?” Glewna asks, unsure of what to make of her sister without her husband.

The smile disappears and Hafina starts to cry, “I know not where he is. I have not seen or heard from him in months. He left to guard a caravan, but didn’t come back with them,” she begins to cry harder, “No one would tell me what happened. It took all the money we had for me to get here.”

Glewna takes her younger sister by her hand and leads her to one of the small couches. Helping her to settle, Glewna takes a seat next to Hafina. “Why did you not send someone to look for him?” she asks, while wiping at teary cheeks.

Hafina looks at her as if she is crazy, “With what money? I am no longer a Lord’s daughter, Glewna. I am poor and no one, just a widow who is with child.”

“I am sorry. I did not think,” Glewna says, feeling foolish, “I am just glad you arrived safely, Hafina.”

A knock to the door reminds Glewna of her earlier order of tea and food. Getting up she calls out, “Come in.” Watching as the mousy kitchen maid opens the door and comes in caring a tray laden with bread, cheese, and meats. A second servant follows in with the tea, a old woman dressed just as the kitchen maid.

“Leave it there, Iola. Please wait for me to call on you again,” she tells the old woman who is the head servant, “It should not be much longer,” she waves them out, the door closes and she and Hafina are once again alone.

Glewna watches as Hafina piles food upon her plate and begins to eat as if starving. Something Glewna was sure to be true. Making no comments, she pores the tea and sets her sister’s cup down next to the eating girl.

“You poor thing, you must be starving,” she finally says while she sits with her own cup, still watching. Glewna takes a sip of the warm drink, glad that her hands are steadier than she herself feels.

Hafina places her much less full plat on the small space of her lap and reaches for her cup of tea. Blowing on it, she tests the temperature with a small sip and when she finds it do able, starts to gulp it down. Once she is satisfied her manners begin to show themselves as she starts to eat more slowly.

“I have not eaten all day, but that is only because I took the chance that I would get here earlier,” the dark haired woman confesses between bites, “I needed what money I had to travel here.”

Glewna frowns and turns to face her sister a little better, “That was foolish, Hafina, your child needs you to eat!”

Hafina merely shrugs and continues to eat. Sighing Glewna figures this will be another time her advice would be ignored, it was only sad that her unborn nephew or niece would have to suffer.

“You are welcomed to stay here until it is safe to travel to Banwen,” Glewna tells, making a sandwich for herself. Watching such a healthy appetite would make anyone hungry.

Startled Hafina turns to her older sister, “You can not do that!”

Glewna looks back, sandwich hovering before her lips, “Why ever not?” she asks, frowning, “A widow needs to go to her parent’s home, especially if she is expecting.”

“Tad would never take me back. Not after how I left to marry against his will,” Hafina argues.

Glewna holds up a hand as she chews, after she swallows and asks, “You did not know?”

“Know what?” Hafina asks back, confusion clear on her face.

“Tad died three years ago, he lived long enough to see my son Taran born,” Glewna tells, and lets herself take another bite of her sandwich.

Hafina begins to look sad, she looks down and starts to rub her belly. “Oh, I did not know. We were not able to get much news in Alouarn. I had to pay a small fee to even find out that you had married and now lived here.”

Gasping, Glewna looks to her sister in surprise, “No wonder Tad could not find you,” she exclaims, “you were in a different kingdom all together!”

Nodding Hafina begins to explain, “Deri knew Tad would have him hanged for us running away. We decided that it would be best to leave Barri all together.” Tears start to fall again, a shaky thin hand comes to wipe them away.

Feeling sorry for her little sister, Glewna takes Hafina’s hands in her own, “It will be ok, Hafina. Rees, our dear older brother, has never stopped searching for you and Deri,” she pauses as she once again uses her shawl to dap up flowing tears, “He will be happy to take you back, and start a search for Deri. In fact I will send word to him in the morning, to start looking.”

She reaches up and smoothes a few curls from Hafina’s flushed face, “Until then you will stay here and wait for either summer or for your child to be born, which ever comes first. Then you will go home to our waiting family in Banwen.”

“Oh, Glewna I have missed you so much,” Hafina cries out and leans in to rest her head on her older sister’s shoulder, “I did not know what to do when Deri didn’t come home. I was so scared that I would end up losing my baby or even dying!”

“Shh, it is alright, Hafina,” Glewna says, trying to calm the hysterics that her little sister had fallen into. Allowing she arms to wrap Hafina into her arms and pull her close, “You and your baby are safe now, and we will find Deri. There, there.”

It was a long time to calm Hafina, and Glewna worried that all the excitement was bad on the baby. Worried for her sister and her unborn child, she called for the servants and ordered for a room to be readied. Glewna also ordered that a bath be drawn for Hafina in the morning, something the poor thing needed.

She returned to the bedroom that she shared with her husband. Glewna was not surprised that Ivor was still awake, sitting at his desk and writing. She brought the candle she used to travel through the manor closer, giving the man more light to write by.

“Was it really the elusive Hafina?” Ivor asks, keeping his gaze to his steady hand marking the page with his smooth strokes.

Glewna sets the candle down on the desk and moves to her vanity, “It was, she is with child,” she says, taking off her shawl and draping it over her vanity’s chair, “Deri has gone missing, so she came here thinking that my father was still alive.”

Ivor uses a cloth to wipe left over ink from his quill and puts it away. He blows on the inked words to dry them before putting the parchment aside. Stopping his bottle of ink, he turns in his seat to watch his wife unbraid her hair.

“Do you believe that the man is still alive?” he asks, a arm comes up to support his chin as he leans into the desk.

Glewna takes up her brush and pulls it through quickly, “Yes, Deri has always had a luck of getting out of,” she pauses to think of the right word, “sticky situations. It would take a lot for him to die. Especially since his is a child of the Fey.”

Ivor perks up at this, “You never told me that, Glewna. How is he a child of the Fey?”

“He was a orphan that one of my father’s servants found in the forest near the estate. But what makes him a child of the fey is that he was found in the roots of Derwena. That is why he is called Deri, the servants thought him her child.”

Ivor shoots up from his chair, “He was found with the Great Mother Derwena? That can not be the only reason why, there have been many stories of babes found left at one of the great trees.”

Glewna stays silent as she removes her stockings. Ivor continues to watch her, waiting patiently for his wife to tell him.

Finally she looks to him and their eyes lock, “He’s eyes are such a dark blue that you would think them black.”

“A mark of the Fey,” Ivor whispers, and Glewna sadly nods.