another drabble(sort of)
the prompts for this are from Gin. she handed me stone, pink and the ringing of a bell. this is what came from it. took me forever to actually write this because i did.... *gasp* research before i started and then during to ensure that i wasn't breaking too far from historical facts. this started out as something hot and lurid in a monestary and then... well... the bunnies got weird. again.
hope you all enjoy!
Title: Magic
Fandom: original
Pairing: a woman, a man, and more women and men.
Rating: surprisingly, this one is mild. i mean... there's really nothing in it. odd for me, i know. but there it is.
Chapter Count: one
Word Count: 3528
Completed: Yes
Description: one woman's quest to find her place in life takes her in directions she'd never even imagined.
Lush green lawns sprawled out around the ancient structure, a rolling sea of rich green caught in the grip of spring. The weather was seasonably mild, according to the locals, and flowers were blooming in a riot of color. There was reverence on the air, an old and clinging sense of piety that stained the area with tattered streamers of religion and faith that hadn't existed in thousands of years. Large trees paid their respects to the stone edifice, bowing in the wind as it blew gently across the grounds.
Here, like in other places she'd visited on her personal pilgrimage, there were no stones littering the earth. The paths were clear and easy to find, easy to walk along so she could soak in the history that lived around the crumbling ruins. Ruins that were beautiful and breath-taking. Felicity had saved for years for this trip, ever since she'd been turned away from a life she'd thought she'd been born to live.
Her parents had both come from a long line of Irish families. Families that had kept to strict Catholic doctrines. When she'd been a small child, she'd loved the pomp of Mass, found a certain kind of safety in the rituals that she saw performed over and over again. She'd fallen in love with the ceremonies and had known by the time she was ten that she wanted to become a nun. Her family hadn't dissuaded her desire, had encouraged it. The only thing they'd ever told her was that she'd have to give up everything to devote her life to God.
She hadn't realized what that 'everything' had entailed until she'd entered the cloister and begun the postulancy period. Because Felicity had always had magic in her head. She could recall clearly the first time she'd seen a faerie. Her mother had told her it was little more than a butterfly, but she'd known. She'd seen that tiny, human-like face staring at her. She'd seen the cornsilk yellow hair and the brilliant, gem blue eyes. And wings that had been every shade of blue and purple imaginable. She'd seen a thin, wispy dress of some shiny material in the same shade of blue as the sky.
After that first encounter, there'd been more. 'Butterflies' seemingly flocked to her and no one saw the miniature faces that shone out at her. Soon, it became more than simply those tiny faeries. She'd seen leprechauns and trolls, sprites and nymphs and all other manner of magical, mystical beings. She'd kept right on seeing them as she'd grown from a small child filled with wonder to a teenager filled with impetuousness to a young woman filled with serene acceptance. Even when other people had thought her insane, she'd kept on seeing them.
Her dreams had always been filled with magic, always been filled with the creatures that her parents and grandparents insisted didn't exist. With exception of her great-grandmother Eileen. She'd always believed Felicity, always encouraged her to explore her wilder side. Grandma Eileen had always told Felicity she was a child of magic, that she'd been born for greater things than a life in servitude to a God who didn't want her dreams and unique nature. She'd warned Felicity that all those things that had made her so special to the Fair Folk were the things that the Christian God wouldn't want.
The church had wanted her to give up her belief in the magical world. Her Mother Superior had been stern, with a mind set that would have made the old world nuns proud. While she hadn't beaten Felicity in order to convince her to push aside those thoughts, she'd enforced strict actions. She'd been determined to drive such nonsense ideas from the girl's mind. And still, amidst all that, they'd still come to her. When she'd been alone at night in her cell, her friends had come and soothed her battered senses and reminded her that she wasn't insane.
She'd left the cloister behind after six months. Her faith in God had remained firm, but her view of his followers' interpretations of the world had been shaken until she wasn't sure what was real any longer. That had been some five or six years ago now. She was still young but not quite as innocent. And she knew now, having studied every bit of text she could find, that God wore many faces, answered to many names and existed in many places. She'd left the pompousness of the church behind and given herself over to finding a balance between belief in magic and belief in God. She'd found her own way, followed the path her faith had laid out for her. It had brought her here.
To Glastonbury Abbey.
She stepped into the Lady Chapel and felt that same sense of peace here that surrounded the rest of the ruins. She'd walked all over the area, explored every bit of it that she'd been able to. It was the last stop on her private pilgrimage, the last place she wanted to see. She'd already seen Stonehenge and several other infamous places around England that had a hand in the myths and legends that permeated the land. This was her last stop of both faith and magic.
Glastonbury, the legendary entryway to Avalon. She'd left this spot for last, saved it because of the swirling historical and magical significance around it. She'd lovingly studied the legends of Arthur and Camelot, the people and the magic and the beginnings of faith that sprang from the stories. And this was it. The Holy Grail of her pilgrimage. The famed marker for the gateway between two worlds.
Glancing at her watch, Felicity frowned. It was almost closing time. She'd gotten here as soon as they'd opened and spent her entire day walking the thirty-six acre park, wandering from tree to tree. She'd seen small faces amongst the foliage, hidden beneath mushroom caps and under deep green leaves, and she'd heard laughter and music, the kind that other people never heard. She'd missed lunch and was only now just starting to feel it. But she didn't care. She was at a sacred place and she wanted nothing to spoil it for her.
No one was in the Lady Chapel. Given the time, she was sure most people were making good on their last opportunity to look through the gift shop and find that perfect souvenir. She was alone with the solitude and the tranquility. Centuries of memory pressed in on her as she strolled the length of the floor, moving ever closer to the far end, where she was sure the altar had once been. Felicity was sure she could hear the glorious choir of voice raised in song, the words and notes echoing endlessly off the soaring roof. Ancient Latin rolled around her, soaking into her skin like lotion to cloak her once again in the pageantry of Mass.
She stopped, eyes closed as images of ancient rites flickered through her mind like the hesitant frames of a poorly preserved silent film. Corners were eaten away by time and left soft with shadow. But she could see the colors vividly, could picture the procession of a wedding as it moved with slow certainty up the aisle. The austerity of the abbot and his fellow monks. The soothing tones of a Gregorian chant took up where the choir had left off and she felt as if she were being transported to that time, that place, when magic and religion lived side by side.
As if from a distance, she dropped to her knees. The stone was hard and bit at her uncushioned knees. She could hear the chanting mingled with laughter, high-pitched and almost childish. Just as she could feel the weight of old religion settled upon her shoulders, so too could she feel the light, bright sensation of magic and the presence of the Fair Folk around her. The two worlds were sliding into and through one another, colliding about her into something that felt ancient and timeless. Her breath caught in her throat and Felicity felt herself falling.
"Child, are you well?" The question was hard to understand, heavily accented despite the fact that it was asked in a gentle, solicitous voice. Felicity pried her eyes open and almost fell backward. There was an altar before her, covered in a pair of long cloths. One was white, the other a deep, bloody red. A golden crucifix stood in the center of it. Gone was the ceiling of sky, replaced with a rook that appeared to be thatched. The walls around her were wood and the floor beneath her feet was dirt. She could smell the scent of burning wax and the sound of ringing bells, high pitched and noisy, filled the air. "Child? Are you well? Should I fetch a healer for you?"
Felicity blinked up into the kindly face in confusion. "I'm sorry. I don't think I understand. Why would I need a healer?" she asked softly. The man she was looking at was neither young nor old. He seemed to be of an indeterminate age though his face showed a lifetime of knowledge and his eyes showed sorrow and joy that had come from having loved and lost.
His smile was as kindly as his face and he offered her a hand to help her to her feet. She put her hand in it, not surprised to find that his was calloused with use. "You seem dazed. Even as you knelt before the cross and spoke to the new God, you seemed dazed. It leaves me to wonder at your health."
"Oh, no. I'm fine. Thank you," she said, then the words died and her throat closed. He'd just said the new God. She cast another glance at the building around her and decided that perhaps she wasn't fine. She was sure she was in the same chapel, could tell by the feel of the air around her. And yet... There was no way it could have happened. No way. That wasn't possible. Was it?
"Is there something wrong, child? You've gone quite pale."
"I... Forgive my obtuseness, sir. But please... This is Glastonbury Abbey, isn't it?"
He gave her a puzzled look for a minute or two, then his face cleared and he nodded in understanding. "Tis Glastonbury, aye."
"You aren't a priest," she said, eyeing the man's attire. He wore no monk's cowl of roughly woven fabric. He instead wore colorful garments, a pair of dark blue leggings and soft, leather boots, along with a tunic in a lighter shade of blue, embroidered with small moons and stars in white threads. He wore a cloak in deep purple and a wide smile at her observation.
"No, child. No priest am I. How are you so sure?" he asked, glancing at her pale pink sun dress. Thick shoulder straps held it up, the bodice fitted from the tops of her breasts to her hips and a full skirt cascading down to her knees. If she was right, he had to think she was in her underwear.
"Your clothes," she motioned to him with one hand. "I know how the clergy dresses. I was going to take my vows, but decided I couldn't. There were some things I couldn't give up."
"And a shame it would have been for someone so attuned to the world to give all of that up for a God who would not appreciate such ability. Or such beauty."
What an odd thing for him to say. She frowned and wondered what he meant. Was he some sort of psychic? There was the sound of voices from the other side of the door and he quickly drew the cape from his shoulders, settling it around hers and, in the process, covering her limbs. The man cast a look at the doors, then brought the hood up and drew it over her head. "Say nothing, child. And do as I do. These men of God have strange ways."
Felicity nodded and inched closer to the man. For whatever reason, she trusted him even though she had no idea who he was. The doors flew open and a pair of men wearing coarsely spun robes in brown stepped into the small chapel and started when they saw that there were people inside. "Good evening, Brother," one of them spoke in a strong voice. The man at her side gave a slight bow.
"Good evening," the man replied, then looked down at Felicity. "Come, child. We are late for our boat." She nodded and followed after him, careful to keep her head down. It would prevent the men from seeing her face and, should they believe she was offering them respect, she wouldn't disabuse them of the notion. She could feel their eyes upon her as she followed the man out the door and had to fight the urge to run. It felt as if they were trying to see through to her soul and she had the distinct impression that they didn't like the man at all.
The two of them moved in silence through the darkness. Once they'd gone far enough from the small wooden building, the man reached over and casually flipped the hood of the cloak back. Felicity was grateful. It had been hot under the hood. The man wore his hair long, the dark ends trailing all the way to the middle of his back. Shock was sliding away from her, allowing her to take stock of her surroundings. She looked around curiously, trying to make sense of what she saw.
Where there had once been perfect lawns, there were now towering trees. The church was at the edge of a clearing, with several other buildings scattered around it. Torch light flickered over the area, interspersed between the village huts. She saw the two monks leave the chapel building, watching the two of them stride away. And then she saw the small, winged faeries flutter out of the trees. They landed on the monks' heads and began pulling their hair. Felicity couldn't help but laugh.
"The Fair Folk have marked you as one of their own. Tis a great honor, indeed. It would seem that my vision was correct, after all," the man's voice floated back to her over his shoulder.
"Vision?" she questioned.
"Aye, child. Vision. I shall explain all later. Patience. Now, quickly. We haven't much time before we lose the boat for the night."
Nothing made sense, but Felicity hurried to catch up with the man. Soon enough, they reached a darkened shoreline and she could hear the gentle lapping of waves against something solid. The man followed a narrow path through the tall grass to a dock. She hadn't been able to see it in the darkness, but a fey light sprang up as soon as they approached. Tethered to the end piling was a magnificent looking boat. The man said nothing, simply helped her into its depths. Then he was piling in beside her, the rope released as he climbed in. The fey light moved to hover at the prow and the boat slid soundlessly through the water.
She must have dozed. One minute, Felicity was staring at the darkness beyond the small fey light. The next, torches were flickering to life in front of her. She could see a stone dock jutting into the lake, flames licking at wooden torches on either side. A group of women stood at the end, watching the boat as it sailed closer to the rocks. As it skimmed up against the stones and came to a stop, she realized that there hadn't been anyone steering it.
The man climbed out of the boat and offered a hand down to Felicity. She took it and allowed him to help her up onto the dock. The women before her were all young and beautiful, hair flowing to their hips and chains of gold and silver at their throats and waists. They wore bracelets with stones in them and dangles in their ears. All wore flowing gowns of simple designs, their feet bare. The woman at the lead was striking, with riotous hair of pitch black and laughing blue eyes. Her gown was dyed to match them and hung low off her shoulders, exposing the curves of her breasts. She smiled at the man before taking Felicity's hands in her own so she could look her over.
"Are you sure she's the one? She doesn't appear to be extraordinary," the woman finally said to the man.
"She's the one," he assured her, then motioned past the women to a path that led up the incline of a hill to a large stone structure at the crest. "Let's bring her inside, then we can explain all. The child is quite confused."
The woman nodded, letting go of Felicity's hands to clap. The women behind her turned and began making their way up the hill. The woman again took one of Felicity's hands and pulled her forward. The man joined them on the other side and the two of them escorted her toward the towering stone building.
Once inside, Felicity was taken to a private room where she was bathed and dressed in a flowing gown of emerald green. A silver chain was settled at her waist while dangles of sparkling stones were set in her ears. Then she was escorted to a large hall where all of the women were present. The man was seated on a dais with the woman who'd greeted her. He beckoned her closer. She went and, upon reaching the edge of the dais, sank to her knees as she had back in Glastonbury Abbey. "Your name, child?" the man asked.
"Felicity," she replied softly.
"You have been brought across space and time because my blood flows in your veins, Felicity," the woman spoke. Some hidden door in her head swung open and names flooded out of it. She suddenly understood. "This, my child, is Avalon. A place that has lived in your dreams for as long as you can remember. These women are all priestesses of Avalon, sisters to the Old Gods and their ways. And it is because of your faith that you have been brought to us."
"I don't understand," she frowned.
"You had a calling, did you not? To give yourself to your God?" she asked.
"Yes. But I thought..."
"The calling you received was not from the new God. The calling was for the Old Gods. The old ways. This is why you can see the Fair Folk, why you've always held magic in your heart," she explained patiently.
"This was why you couldn't take your vows, child. This is why you made your long pilgrimage to Glastonbury," the man spoke. Felicity nodded. She had a feeling. "I had a vision of your coming, Felicity. That vision sent me to the new God's church to await you."
"How did I get here?"
"Magic brought you to us, my child," the woman told her. Then she clapped her hands and a dozen young boys and girls issued from a door, bringing with them platters of food and drink. The woman stood from her seat and moved forward. Catching Felicity's hands in her own once more, she escorted her toward an empty seat. Several large men arrived next, carrying tables that they settled before the sitting women.
"Might I ask a question?" she asked as the woman urged her down onto a cushioned bench.
"Of course, child," the woman smiled, then motioned to another set of men who brought forward bowls and utensils. A tall, muscled blonde tosses a saucy grin and wink to Felicity and she couldn't help smiling back. "Ah. I see Alewyn has taken a liking to you. I shall be sure he's sent to your chambers for the night. Now. Your question?"
"The man who brought me here. His name..." she stopped and drew a breath. She had to be out of her ever loving mind. But this was beyond real. She'd pinched herself six times in the bath to prove it. "It wouldn't happen to be Merlin, would it?"
The woman's smile gave her the answer and she fought off a rush of dizziness. "Aye, lass. Merlin. I'm pleased you know the name well enough. He will be your mentor."
"And what shall I call you?" she asked, though she was sure she knew the answer to it already.
"Morgan," the woman answered and sauntered off. She took her place in her seat and tossed a wink at Felicity, then cast her gaze around the room. "Let the feast begin."
Glastonbury Abbey. Avalon. Merlin. The Fair Folk. Morgan Le Fay. It was all too much and yet it made perfect sense. Alewyn gave her another smile and wink.
If serving as a priestess to the Old Gods meant spending time with a man like that, then perhaps she'd found her true calling after all. Yes, she could happily devote herself to this place and its Gods.
And to him. Definitely him.
wanna catch up on all my stuff? check this link out. its got everything! The Ultimate ldf Fic Index
hope you all enjoy!
Title: Magic
Fandom: original
Pairing: a woman, a man, and more women and men.
Rating: surprisingly, this one is mild. i mean... there's really nothing in it. odd for me, i know. but there it is.
Chapter Count: one
Word Count: 3528
Completed: Yes
Description: one woman's quest to find her place in life takes her in directions she'd never even imagined.
Lush green lawns sprawled out around the ancient structure, a rolling sea of rich green caught in the grip of spring. The weather was seasonably mild, according to the locals, and flowers were blooming in a riot of color. There was reverence on the air, an old and clinging sense of piety that stained the area with tattered streamers of religion and faith that hadn't existed in thousands of years. Large trees paid their respects to the stone edifice, bowing in the wind as it blew gently across the grounds.
Here, like in other places she'd visited on her personal pilgrimage, there were no stones littering the earth. The paths were clear and easy to find, easy to walk along so she could soak in the history that lived around the crumbling ruins. Ruins that were beautiful and breath-taking. Felicity had saved for years for this trip, ever since she'd been turned away from a life she'd thought she'd been born to live.
Her parents had both come from a long line of Irish families. Families that had kept to strict Catholic doctrines. When she'd been a small child, she'd loved the pomp of Mass, found a certain kind of safety in the rituals that she saw performed over and over again. She'd fallen in love with the ceremonies and had known by the time she was ten that she wanted to become a nun. Her family hadn't dissuaded her desire, had encouraged it. The only thing they'd ever told her was that she'd have to give up everything to devote her life to God.
She hadn't realized what that 'everything' had entailed until she'd entered the cloister and begun the postulancy period. Because Felicity had always had magic in her head. She could recall clearly the first time she'd seen a faerie. Her mother had told her it was little more than a butterfly, but she'd known. She'd seen that tiny, human-like face staring at her. She'd seen the cornsilk yellow hair and the brilliant, gem blue eyes. And wings that had been every shade of blue and purple imaginable. She'd seen a thin, wispy dress of some shiny material in the same shade of blue as the sky.
After that first encounter, there'd been more. 'Butterflies' seemingly flocked to her and no one saw the miniature faces that shone out at her. Soon, it became more than simply those tiny faeries. She'd seen leprechauns and trolls, sprites and nymphs and all other manner of magical, mystical beings. She'd kept right on seeing them as she'd grown from a small child filled with wonder to a teenager filled with impetuousness to a young woman filled with serene acceptance. Even when other people had thought her insane, she'd kept on seeing them.
Her dreams had always been filled with magic, always been filled with the creatures that her parents and grandparents insisted didn't exist. With exception of her great-grandmother Eileen. She'd always believed Felicity, always encouraged her to explore her wilder side. Grandma Eileen had always told Felicity she was a child of magic, that she'd been born for greater things than a life in servitude to a God who didn't want her dreams and unique nature. She'd warned Felicity that all those things that had made her so special to the Fair Folk were the things that the Christian God wouldn't want.
The church had wanted her to give up her belief in the magical world. Her Mother Superior had been stern, with a mind set that would have made the old world nuns proud. While she hadn't beaten Felicity in order to convince her to push aside those thoughts, she'd enforced strict actions. She'd been determined to drive such nonsense ideas from the girl's mind. And still, amidst all that, they'd still come to her. When she'd been alone at night in her cell, her friends had come and soothed her battered senses and reminded her that she wasn't insane.
She'd left the cloister behind after six months. Her faith in God had remained firm, but her view of his followers' interpretations of the world had been shaken until she wasn't sure what was real any longer. That had been some five or six years ago now. She was still young but not quite as innocent. And she knew now, having studied every bit of text she could find, that God wore many faces, answered to many names and existed in many places. She'd left the pompousness of the church behind and given herself over to finding a balance between belief in magic and belief in God. She'd found her own way, followed the path her faith had laid out for her. It had brought her here.
To Glastonbury Abbey.
She stepped into the Lady Chapel and felt that same sense of peace here that surrounded the rest of the ruins. She'd walked all over the area, explored every bit of it that she'd been able to. It was the last stop on her private pilgrimage, the last place she wanted to see. She'd already seen Stonehenge and several other infamous places around England that had a hand in the myths and legends that permeated the land. This was her last stop of both faith and magic.
Glastonbury, the legendary entryway to Avalon. She'd left this spot for last, saved it because of the swirling historical and magical significance around it. She'd lovingly studied the legends of Arthur and Camelot, the people and the magic and the beginnings of faith that sprang from the stories. And this was it. The Holy Grail of her pilgrimage. The famed marker for the gateway between two worlds.
Glancing at her watch, Felicity frowned. It was almost closing time. She'd gotten here as soon as they'd opened and spent her entire day walking the thirty-six acre park, wandering from tree to tree. She'd seen small faces amongst the foliage, hidden beneath mushroom caps and under deep green leaves, and she'd heard laughter and music, the kind that other people never heard. She'd missed lunch and was only now just starting to feel it. But she didn't care. She was at a sacred place and she wanted nothing to spoil it for her.
No one was in the Lady Chapel. Given the time, she was sure most people were making good on their last opportunity to look through the gift shop and find that perfect souvenir. She was alone with the solitude and the tranquility. Centuries of memory pressed in on her as she strolled the length of the floor, moving ever closer to the far end, where she was sure the altar had once been. Felicity was sure she could hear the glorious choir of voice raised in song, the words and notes echoing endlessly off the soaring roof. Ancient Latin rolled around her, soaking into her skin like lotion to cloak her once again in the pageantry of Mass.
She stopped, eyes closed as images of ancient rites flickered through her mind like the hesitant frames of a poorly preserved silent film. Corners were eaten away by time and left soft with shadow. But she could see the colors vividly, could picture the procession of a wedding as it moved with slow certainty up the aisle. The austerity of the abbot and his fellow monks. The soothing tones of a Gregorian chant took up where the choir had left off and she felt as if she were being transported to that time, that place, when magic and religion lived side by side.
As if from a distance, she dropped to her knees. The stone was hard and bit at her uncushioned knees. She could hear the chanting mingled with laughter, high-pitched and almost childish. Just as she could feel the weight of old religion settled upon her shoulders, so too could she feel the light, bright sensation of magic and the presence of the Fair Folk around her. The two worlds were sliding into and through one another, colliding about her into something that felt ancient and timeless. Her breath caught in her throat and Felicity felt herself falling.
"Child, are you well?" The question was hard to understand, heavily accented despite the fact that it was asked in a gentle, solicitous voice. Felicity pried her eyes open and almost fell backward. There was an altar before her, covered in a pair of long cloths. One was white, the other a deep, bloody red. A golden crucifix stood in the center of it. Gone was the ceiling of sky, replaced with a rook that appeared to be thatched. The walls around her were wood and the floor beneath her feet was dirt. She could smell the scent of burning wax and the sound of ringing bells, high pitched and noisy, filled the air. "Child? Are you well? Should I fetch a healer for you?"
Felicity blinked up into the kindly face in confusion. "I'm sorry. I don't think I understand. Why would I need a healer?" she asked softly. The man she was looking at was neither young nor old. He seemed to be of an indeterminate age though his face showed a lifetime of knowledge and his eyes showed sorrow and joy that had come from having loved and lost.
His smile was as kindly as his face and he offered her a hand to help her to her feet. She put her hand in it, not surprised to find that his was calloused with use. "You seem dazed. Even as you knelt before the cross and spoke to the new God, you seemed dazed. It leaves me to wonder at your health."
"Oh, no. I'm fine. Thank you," she said, then the words died and her throat closed. He'd just said the new God. She cast another glance at the building around her and decided that perhaps she wasn't fine. She was sure she was in the same chapel, could tell by the feel of the air around her. And yet... There was no way it could have happened. No way. That wasn't possible. Was it?
"Is there something wrong, child? You've gone quite pale."
"I... Forgive my obtuseness, sir. But please... This is Glastonbury Abbey, isn't it?"
He gave her a puzzled look for a minute or two, then his face cleared and he nodded in understanding. "Tis Glastonbury, aye."
"You aren't a priest," she said, eyeing the man's attire. He wore no monk's cowl of roughly woven fabric. He instead wore colorful garments, a pair of dark blue leggings and soft, leather boots, along with a tunic in a lighter shade of blue, embroidered with small moons and stars in white threads. He wore a cloak in deep purple and a wide smile at her observation.
"No, child. No priest am I. How are you so sure?" he asked, glancing at her pale pink sun dress. Thick shoulder straps held it up, the bodice fitted from the tops of her breasts to her hips and a full skirt cascading down to her knees. If she was right, he had to think she was in her underwear.
"Your clothes," she motioned to him with one hand. "I know how the clergy dresses. I was going to take my vows, but decided I couldn't. There were some things I couldn't give up."
"And a shame it would have been for someone so attuned to the world to give all of that up for a God who would not appreciate such ability. Or such beauty."
What an odd thing for him to say. She frowned and wondered what he meant. Was he some sort of psychic? There was the sound of voices from the other side of the door and he quickly drew the cape from his shoulders, settling it around hers and, in the process, covering her limbs. The man cast a look at the doors, then brought the hood up and drew it over her head. "Say nothing, child. And do as I do. These men of God have strange ways."
Felicity nodded and inched closer to the man. For whatever reason, she trusted him even though she had no idea who he was. The doors flew open and a pair of men wearing coarsely spun robes in brown stepped into the small chapel and started when they saw that there were people inside. "Good evening, Brother," one of them spoke in a strong voice. The man at her side gave a slight bow.
"Good evening," the man replied, then looked down at Felicity. "Come, child. We are late for our boat." She nodded and followed after him, careful to keep her head down. It would prevent the men from seeing her face and, should they believe she was offering them respect, she wouldn't disabuse them of the notion. She could feel their eyes upon her as she followed the man out the door and had to fight the urge to run. It felt as if they were trying to see through to her soul and she had the distinct impression that they didn't like the man at all.
The two of them moved in silence through the darkness. Once they'd gone far enough from the small wooden building, the man reached over and casually flipped the hood of the cloak back. Felicity was grateful. It had been hot under the hood. The man wore his hair long, the dark ends trailing all the way to the middle of his back. Shock was sliding away from her, allowing her to take stock of her surroundings. She looked around curiously, trying to make sense of what she saw.
Where there had once been perfect lawns, there were now towering trees. The church was at the edge of a clearing, with several other buildings scattered around it. Torch light flickered over the area, interspersed between the village huts. She saw the two monks leave the chapel building, watching the two of them stride away. And then she saw the small, winged faeries flutter out of the trees. They landed on the monks' heads and began pulling their hair. Felicity couldn't help but laugh.
"The Fair Folk have marked you as one of their own. Tis a great honor, indeed. It would seem that my vision was correct, after all," the man's voice floated back to her over his shoulder.
"Vision?" she questioned.
"Aye, child. Vision. I shall explain all later. Patience. Now, quickly. We haven't much time before we lose the boat for the night."
Nothing made sense, but Felicity hurried to catch up with the man. Soon enough, they reached a darkened shoreline and she could hear the gentle lapping of waves against something solid. The man followed a narrow path through the tall grass to a dock. She hadn't been able to see it in the darkness, but a fey light sprang up as soon as they approached. Tethered to the end piling was a magnificent looking boat. The man said nothing, simply helped her into its depths. Then he was piling in beside her, the rope released as he climbed in. The fey light moved to hover at the prow and the boat slid soundlessly through the water.
She must have dozed. One minute, Felicity was staring at the darkness beyond the small fey light. The next, torches were flickering to life in front of her. She could see a stone dock jutting into the lake, flames licking at wooden torches on either side. A group of women stood at the end, watching the boat as it sailed closer to the rocks. As it skimmed up against the stones and came to a stop, she realized that there hadn't been anyone steering it.
The man climbed out of the boat and offered a hand down to Felicity. She took it and allowed him to help her up onto the dock. The women before her were all young and beautiful, hair flowing to their hips and chains of gold and silver at their throats and waists. They wore bracelets with stones in them and dangles in their ears. All wore flowing gowns of simple designs, their feet bare. The woman at the lead was striking, with riotous hair of pitch black and laughing blue eyes. Her gown was dyed to match them and hung low off her shoulders, exposing the curves of her breasts. She smiled at the man before taking Felicity's hands in her own so she could look her over.
"Are you sure she's the one? She doesn't appear to be extraordinary," the woman finally said to the man.
"She's the one," he assured her, then motioned past the women to a path that led up the incline of a hill to a large stone structure at the crest. "Let's bring her inside, then we can explain all. The child is quite confused."
The woman nodded, letting go of Felicity's hands to clap. The women behind her turned and began making their way up the hill. The woman again took one of Felicity's hands and pulled her forward. The man joined them on the other side and the two of them escorted her toward the towering stone building.
Once inside, Felicity was taken to a private room where she was bathed and dressed in a flowing gown of emerald green. A silver chain was settled at her waist while dangles of sparkling stones were set in her ears. Then she was escorted to a large hall where all of the women were present. The man was seated on a dais with the woman who'd greeted her. He beckoned her closer. She went and, upon reaching the edge of the dais, sank to her knees as she had back in Glastonbury Abbey. "Your name, child?" the man asked.
"Felicity," she replied softly.
"You have been brought across space and time because my blood flows in your veins, Felicity," the woman spoke. Some hidden door in her head swung open and names flooded out of it. She suddenly understood. "This, my child, is Avalon. A place that has lived in your dreams for as long as you can remember. These women are all priestesses of Avalon, sisters to the Old Gods and their ways. And it is because of your faith that you have been brought to us."
"I don't understand," she frowned.
"You had a calling, did you not? To give yourself to your God?" she asked.
"Yes. But I thought..."
"The calling you received was not from the new God. The calling was for the Old Gods. The old ways. This is why you can see the Fair Folk, why you've always held magic in your heart," she explained patiently.
"This was why you couldn't take your vows, child. This is why you made your long pilgrimage to Glastonbury," the man spoke. Felicity nodded. She had a feeling. "I had a vision of your coming, Felicity. That vision sent me to the new God's church to await you."
"How did I get here?"
"Magic brought you to us, my child," the woman told her. Then she clapped her hands and a dozen young boys and girls issued from a door, bringing with them platters of food and drink. The woman stood from her seat and moved forward. Catching Felicity's hands in her own once more, she escorted her toward an empty seat. Several large men arrived next, carrying tables that they settled before the sitting women.
"Might I ask a question?" she asked as the woman urged her down onto a cushioned bench.
"Of course, child," the woman smiled, then motioned to another set of men who brought forward bowls and utensils. A tall, muscled blonde tosses a saucy grin and wink to Felicity and she couldn't help smiling back. "Ah. I see Alewyn has taken a liking to you. I shall be sure he's sent to your chambers for the night. Now. Your question?"
"The man who brought me here. His name..." she stopped and drew a breath. She had to be out of her ever loving mind. But this was beyond real. She'd pinched herself six times in the bath to prove it. "It wouldn't happen to be Merlin, would it?"
The woman's smile gave her the answer and she fought off a rush of dizziness. "Aye, lass. Merlin. I'm pleased you know the name well enough. He will be your mentor."
"And what shall I call you?" she asked, though she was sure she knew the answer to it already.
"Morgan," the woman answered and sauntered off. She took her place in her seat and tossed a wink at Felicity, then cast her gaze around the room. "Let the feast begin."
Glastonbury Abbey. Avalon. Merlin. The Fair Folk. Morgan Le Fay. It was all too much and yet it made perfect sense. Alewyn gave her another smile and wink.
If serving as a priestess to the Old Gods meant spending time with a man like that, then perhaps she'd found her true calling after all. Yes, she could happily devote herself to this place and its Gods.
And to him. Definitely him.
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