"Gwenievere" by Chelsea Castonguay

Legend held it that Gwenievere was swept by the fae when she was an infant and so grew up among them, as one of them. This isn’t the case. She was closer to the fae than that. She was one of them. Her mother was of Avalon and her father was a full-blooded fairy prince. His name was Alirick, and he swept Gwenievere’s mother while she slept outside on a harvest night. It was whispered among fae and humans alike that he had never seen a creature so beautiful, in this world or his. Although she slept with several other maidens, all nestled in a hay bale to keep warm against the night chill, he picked his way by them on his fairy horse, and snatched her up. They would never have known she was swept had not the horse’s tale brushed one of the other maid’s faces as he galloped off with Gwenievere’s mother clasped in his arms, a gentle smile on her face as if she were dreaming the best of dreams.

            Gwenievere’s mother spent several years among the fairies, until some of the female fairies began to get jealous of her. Should Alirick take her to be his wife, she would take the place of many fairies that had been waiting for the throne. Gwenievere’s mother, Enhwyfar, never wanted to be part of the fairies royal court. However, when she announced she was with child, her enemies panicked. While Alirick was out on the hunt one night, they quietly took Enhwyfar from her bed and returned her to one in her parents’ house. Upon awakening in the morning, the household went into a panic. They assumed their daughter was dead in the three years she had been missing and had even held a funeral for her. Now, something must be done. As quickly as possible, they arranged a marriage to an Irish lord. He was not a kind man, he was not a gentle man, but he was wealthy and he was willing to take Enhwyfar, even though her virginity had been compromised, and by a fae no less. They were wed posthaste, and Enhwyfar went to live in a castle on the Irish coast, far from her native Scotland.

            Her husband was a powerful warlord by the name of Uliric, and he was much overjoyed when he learned his new wife would be bearing him a child. He had worried that perhaps her years with the fae would have altered her womb in some way so as to prevent her from bearing children. He was away much of the time on campaigns and whatever else it was that warlords did, so Enhwyfar was left to her own devices. She spent much of her time wandering up and down the rocky cliffs of her husband’s home, caressing her slowly growing stomach and wishing for a daughter that would have Alirick’s blue-black curls and coal-black green eyes.

            Enhwyfar was relieved of her daughter during the worst thunderstorm of the summer. As the storm raged and tore the thatched roofs of the villagers’ cottages off, Enhwyfar’s maids squealed in terror, barely able to help their mistress because of their shaking hands. She labored through the night, and just as the eye of the storm centered over their castle, Viviane arrived. She was covered head to toe in mud and the goddess knows what else, but refused food or rest before rushing up the stairs and into the solar, where Enhwyfar had developed a fever and her labor had slowed until it was almost halted. Her maids stood by quietly, no longer knowing what to do. The child wouldn’t come and now all they could do was wait to see if the child would die first, or their mistress.  Uliric had left orders that if there should be difficulties for Enhwyfar in bearing the child, that the child should be allowed to die and his wife saved. However, everytime the girls drew near, Enhwyfar used some of the magick she had learned in Avalon, which Uliric had forbidden her to use, to keep them away from her.

            Viviane entered the sweltering room, threw out the sweating girls, opened all the windows and locked the door. No know knew what exactly was going on behind that heavy oak door, but several hours later, the weak cry of an infant could be heard throughout the manor. Around the same time, the stable boy found a glistening white mare in an empty stall in the barn, nostrils flaring as it munched on oats. Assuming it was Viviane’s horse, he brushed it down. It was only when he got to the left flank did he see the black brand. The mark of the fae! The fairy prince had arrived in Ireland to witness the birth of his firstborn daughter.

            The day Gwenievere was born, it was decided by Viviane, Enwhyfar and Alirick what was to become of the tiny half-fae girl. As much as Alirick would have loved to take his tiny daughter home to the fae world with him, he knew it was impossible. Gwenievere was a new race unto herself, a half-breed that the world had never seen before. The ancient powers of Avalon mixed with royal blood of the fae. Such a child could be the bridge between humans and the fae, the peacekeeper of the races.