Elphame's Choice

The rain made a comforting, pattering sound against the tent as Brenna watched Cuchulainn wrap the milk-filled cub into the cozy bed she had made for the little creature. It felt so strange to have a man in her tent -  not bad strange, just different...disconcerting...disturbingly intimate. Yet he was there by her invitation, in her tent as well as in her life. Fand whimpered and Cuchulainn stroked her behind the ears, whispering melodically what Brenna was surprised to recognize as a children's lullaby. She smiled. The warrior had such an incredible capacity for gentleness - that was one of the things that separated him from other men. He had a depth of emotion within him that didn't match the rugged exterior of a warrior.



His ability to love the cub, and to love her, was evidence of the difference within him, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks to Epona for fashioning him.



Cuchulainn stood slowly, and with exaggerated stealth walked over to join Brenna where she sat primly on the edge of her bed. He took her hand and raised it to his lips.



"Thank you for making that bed for her. It was a messy thing to have a wolf cub sleep all night on my chest." His voice was just above a whisper. He looked around, taking in the tidiness of the small tent.



The bed was identical to his, only Brenna's was neatly made and had a pillow stuffed with fragrant herbs resting in the middle of it. She had two chests, one was at the foot of her bed, the other had been placed near her desk. It was open, and Cuchulainn could see that it was filled with jars and bottles, strips of linen and a wicked-looking assortment of small knives. He raised his brows. "Is that where your legendary teas originate?"



"Yes, as well as poultices and salves and many other things that heal."



"Do you have any dragon's blood or tongue of toads?"



"Probably, if I look closely enough. Would you like me to check? I could brew you up something with them," she asked, pretending innocence.



"No!" he said, then lowered his voice again when Fand stirred. "But I would very much like to see the gifts Epona gave you that remind you of my eyes."



Brenna's breath caught. She shouldn't be surprised that he remembered; she shouldn't be surprised at anything he said or did. But his love was so unexpected that she couldn't help feeling like she was living a dream, and that she would wake soon to find that he had been nothing more than a beautiful illusion.



"Brenna? You do not have to, not if it makes you uncomfortable."



"It doesn't make me uncomfortable. I want to share them with you." She stood and took his hand so that she could guide him around the bed to the corner of the tent that was cloaked in shadows. She knelt, motioning for Cuchulainn to kneel beside her. Then she lit the four small candles, one for each of the four directions, and her altar blazed into life.



Brenna pointed to the first item.



"I carved this mare's head from the memory of a recurring dream I used to have when I was a child. In the dream there was always a beautiful woman riding the mare. She had golden-red hair with an unruly curl." Brenna smiled shyly. "I couldn't reproduce the beauty of the woman's face, so I focused on the mare."



"May I touch it?" he asked.



Brenna nodded.



He reverently picked up the wood carving, studying it carefully. "You did a good job of recreating the Chosen Mare. You even managed the arrogant arch of her neck."



"Epona's Chosen? But I didn't mean to carve the Chosen Mare."



Cu smiled at her and touched her face. "How could you not? You dreamed of her, as you dreamed of my mother."



"No - I - "



"Do you still remember the dream well?"



"Yes."



"Think about the woman's eyes."



Brenna concentrated on calling up the memory of the dream she had had so often during her painful childhood. It wasn't hard to do. It had always given her pleasure. The mare and the woman had been so beautiful, and they had always seemed so happy, so free from the horrors Brenna had been enduring.



She thought about the woman, and pictured her clearly in her mind, focusing on her eyes...



And Brenna's own eyes widened in surprise. "She has your eyes!" They weren't exactly the same color, Etain's eyes were more green than blue, but their shape was definitely the same.



"Actually, as she will tell you, I have her eyes."



Brenna felt a little tremor run through her body. She had dreamed of Cuchulainn's mother, over and over again.



Cuchulainn carefully placed the mare's head back on the altar. First, he ran one finger over the turquoise stone, and then he gently touched the brilliant blue feather. "You were right, Brenna, these do carry the color of my eyes." Then his attention shifted to the single, perfect drop-shaped pearl, and the warrior began to chuckle.



"What is it?" Brenna asked.



"Oh, love! We are fated to be together." He touched her face. "You dreamed of my mother and you carry a carving of the Chosen Mare on your altar. You collect things that are the exact shade of my eyes, and now the pearl." He chuckled again. "My father will bring with him a ring I plan on presenting to you.



It has been in his family for generations. It is a silver band, intricately carved with intertwining ivy leaves, and set in the middle of it is a single pearl in the shape of a perfect tear. The exact twin of the one you have here."



"I found it," she said, almost unable to talk through the joy that beat into her throat from her breast. "It was the year I became a woman. I was alone, and very unhappy. I was sitting beside a steam, and something caught my eye. I looked down and there it was."



Cuchulainn pulled her into his arms and held her against him.



"Never again. I promise you, Brenna, you will never be unhappy again."



Pressed tightly against him, sharing the strength of his body as well as his love, Brenna felt the last vestiges of the icy cage that had entrapped her heart thaw and break. She looked up at the man she had decided to trust and to love.



"Would you do something for me, Cuchulainn?"



"Anything, love."



She took a deep breath. "Make love to me."



Instead of answering her, he stood, lifting her with him. With her held securely within the circle of his arm, he led her to the small, neatly made bed.



"Blow out the candles," she whispered.



He raised her chin with his finger. "We will be spending the rest of our lives together. I will see you, Brenna, all of you - and often. I know this is difficult for you, but I would begin tonight with nothing but honesty between us."



The rain beat against the tent, isolating them in their own little world. Brenna pushed down her fear and met his steady gaze.



"Would you blow out some of them?"



He smiled and kissed her forehead before hurrying around the room to blow out all but a single candle held within a glass lamp. This he carried to the small table that sat beside the bed. For a few moments they stood together, face-to-face, just looking at each other.



"I'm nervous." Brenna smiled hesitantly and reached up to touch his face.



Cuchulainn took her hand and pressed it against his heart. She could feel its rapid beat.



"I'm nervous, too, love."



"Then maybe you should kiss me. It's better when we touch."



Cuchulainn bent to kiss her and Brenna stepped eagerly into his arms. She had meant what she said to him, when they were touching like this his closeness and the power that radiated from his body overcame her fear. As before, his lips made her forget that she was scarred. All she could think of was the taste and the touch of him - and how he made her body sing in response.



Somewhere in the haze of his kisses, she could feel his hands roaming restlessly over her clothing, molding a breast against the heat of his palm, cupping her bottom. She moaned as she pressed close against his growing hardness. Soon her own hands were exploring his body. They found the clasp that held his kilt to his shoulder, and loosened the plaid. Cuchulainn helped her unwind it from around his body, then he pulled the linen shirt from his chest, and almost without consciously understanding how, Brenna was pressed against his naked body, letting her hands travel the length of him to take delight in the controlled strength of his hard, muscular lines.



Abruptly Cu turned, so that he was sitting on the bed and she was standing between his legs. His hands rested over the lacing that held her dress closed at her throat.



"Let me see you, love." His voice was husky with passion. "Let me feel your naked body against mine."



Trying to still the trembling that his words had started within her, she bit her lip and nodded her head.



Cuchulainn unlaced the prim bodice, helping her to shrug out of it before he unwound her skirt. She stood before him in her high-necked chemise. Slowly, Brenna lifted the soft fabric from her body and over her head, and let it drop to the floor beside her. Then she stood before him, very still, with her eyes tightly closed. When she felt the soft caress of his fingers following the edge of the thick scar tissue that went from her face, down her neck, and covered from her right breast all the way across the top of her arm and stretched almost to her waist, she could not contain the tremors that skittered through her body.



"Ah, love." His voice sounded raw. "I wish I could have been there. I would have found a way to prevent it, or comforted you afterwards and somehow tried to lessen your pain."



Tears leaked from her closed eyes as he leaned forward to kiss the path his fingers had traveled. When she finally opened her eyes to look down at him, she saw that his face, too, was wet with tears.



"You're here now," she said.



"And I will be here forevermore."



Brenna sank onto the bed with him, reveling in the sensation of having his naked skin pressed against her



-  all of her. He did not turn from her, nor did his desire for her wane.



For the rest of the night, Brenna kept her eyes open.



Lochlan raised his head in surprise. It was not yet dark, but he could feel her. Through the wind and the rain she had just called his name. The power of her summons tingled through his blood. His wings stirred and began unfurling even before he leaped from his hidden cave and began the ground-eating running glide that would take him to Elphame. His body welcomed the cool touch of the rain. He yearned to wrap her in his arms, to feel her stroke his wings and caress his body. This time he wanted to take her completely; he wanted to taste her blood. He shouldn't - he knew that. It was demonic, base, wrong.



His breathing deepened. With an effort that caused the pain in his temples to spike familiarly, Lochlan



stumbled to a halt. He had to get control of himself. He could not go to her wrapped in a haze of passion and bloodlust. He closed his eyes and bowed his head against the pain that denying what his blood demanded caused him.



He loved her! He forced his thoughts from the sleek heat of her body to her smile, and the trust that showed so clearly in her eyes. She was his wife, handfasted with him before Epona. His breathing steadied. They would talk. Perhaps tonight he would find a way to tell her of the Prophecy; together they could surely discover a way to save his people without the sacrifice he had already sworn he would not commit.



He began the gliding run again, this time with his dark needs repressed. She called to him, and he must answer her, but he would do so as a man, not as a monster.



She was standing beside the opening to the hidden passageway. Rain ran down her face and her body, and Lochlan thought she looked like she was covered in tears. When she saw him she smiled, but there was a great sadness within her that formed an almost palpable aura around her. Without speaking, he went to her and enfolded her within his arms. His wings rose over her, shielding her from the cold touch of the rain, but still her body shivered.



"Come back to my shelter with me. It is a simple cave, but it is dry and warm." He kissed the top of her head and held her closely against him.



She lifted her head, and he could see that she had been crying. Her tears had mixed with rain, blanketing her face in sadness.



"Would you return with me to my chamber, instead?" she asked in a voice heavy with emotion. "Tonight I need the walls of my castle around me, as well as your arms."



"Do you wish to tell Cuchulainn tonight, my heart?"



She shook her head in short, fast jerks. "No, I've sent for my parents. We'll still wait for them to arrive.



Cu won't interrupt us tonight. He's with his new love."



"Is that why you are so sad? Has Cuchulainn chosen poorly?"



"He's chosen Brenna."



"The little Healer? I thought she was your friend."



"She is," Elphame said hastily. "I was unbelievably happy when they declared their love for each other today. But I've had a Feeling - a kind of premonition -  of great sadness to come." She shivered again uncontrollably.



"Let's return you to your castle. You need the strength of its walls."



"I also need you, Lochlan. I need you badly tonight."



He held her tightly against him. "I am here for you, my heart."