by Conn, Claudy
The human reference advises that we occasionally take human lovers, as the Fae find human sexuality inviting and are drawn to the passion humans possess. However, it cautions, Fae, unlike humans, are immortal. True again.
History has called us the Tuatha Dé Danaan, and we’re also known as the Seelie Fae. I should like you to know more about who we are. You see, the truth is we came long before the written word put us in Ireland at 1000 BC, and we are so much greater than the written word can describe. We are, to a one, quite stunning—and I am even more captivating than my peers. In fact, let me describe myself. I am, Prince Breslyn, last male of the Dagda line, which is one of the four Royal Houses of the Seelie Fae.
If you have read the Legend books, or my first novella, then I need no introduction, but for those of you who haven’t yet read the series, I will give you a brief description of who and what I am.
As I mentioned, I am a Royal Fae Prince of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. I am a Council member (although I rarely attend the boring meetings). I am well over six feet six inches and taller than most male Fae, who are as a race quite unusually tall and warrior built.
My dark blonde hair is long, and I usually slick it back and keep it tethered at the back of my neck with leathers. My eyes are silver, my face chiseled, and I have been described by Fae and human alike as much more than handsome.
I wear a gold torque with the etchings of my Royal House—Dagda—and I like tattoos and wear a band of Celtic knots and ancient runes around my biceps.
What is really important is this: I adore humans, especially female humans.
That gets me into all kinds of trouble with my Queen Aaibhe, who feels that my interactions with humans are a break from our treaty and an infringement on the rules of Fate.
Five hundred years ago I fell in love for the first time with a human. Her name was Chartelle, and we were happy for a time.
When human life and immortal life meet, there is only one conclusion, and when it happens, the one left behind will find himself or herself heartbroken.
We Fae are rumored to lack the equivalent of a human heart. Untrue—I know, because my heart broke, and I grieved and went on missing my Chartelle for centuries.
Those centuries—just about five—were a blur, and had it not been for my young sister and charge, Aida, and her friend Ete, who in later years was appointed to sit on the Council, I think that first depression I felt would not have lifted.
A human friend, one of the MacCleans in fact, said something once to me about ‘time healing’. For me that is totally incorrect: time doesn’t heal per say, but it does dull the pain of loss, a pain that returns in quiet moments when one least expects it to. I was suffering just such a discomfort when visiting the MacCleans in the year 1814 in their home in Scotland. They were entertaining… hosting a thing they called a ‘cotillion’, and I looked across the room and saw her…
Her name, I was told, was Destinee, and she was exquisite.
In fact, I could not look away. Her long black hair, black as the velvet night sky, was piled in dangling curls around her angelic face. Stars twinkled through the curls. Her heart-shaped countenance was classically beautiful, her eyes almond-shaped and bright blue, her neck long. By Danu, I started walking in her direction, thinking that the silk of her form-fitting Regency gown of blue needed to come off—and I was just the one to accomplish the feat.
She looked up, and our eyes met. I can tell you that I saw her catch her breath; I know I was breathing in short spurts of desire. I bent and took her white-gloved hand and brought it up even as I opened the buttons of the glove, found her flesh, and pressed it to my lips.
She blushed, and her lashes lowered. “Sir! I must object…”
“Must you?” I quipped as I started to introduce myself. “My beauty…allow me to intro—”
She cut me off. “Oh, I know who you are, you are Lord Dagda…Breslyn, in fact. Lady MacClean spoke of you to me only this morning.”
“Did she?” I frowned, for although her ladyship and I have been friends for all her life (the MacCleans all know the truth of who I am), I was not sure just what she would tell her female acquaintances.
“Oh, yes…she says that you are the best of all good men.”
As one can imagine, I was much relieved, as I had decided that this beauty and I must get to know one another. “And you have the advantage of me—you know who I am, but I do not know who you are.”
“I am Destinee LaBlanc…”
I must have frowned, for she blushed. I realized she saw I had heard the gossip; I hurriedly tried to put her at ease. “That is a lovely name and suits you.”
“Lady MacClean has been very kind and has offered me a situation here. She, in fact, provided me with the clothes upon my back, for just before my father shot himself to death, he had lost everything…and had even gambled…” She broke off and looked away.
“I know—you needn’t speak of it. Yours is not the shame. It is on him. How a father can offer up his daughter…but Lord MacClean put a stop to it and brought you here to his wife, proving once again the worth of the MacClean clan.”
“Yes, and I am so happy to be able to assist with the children. They are all wonderful…”
I wanted to take her into my arms right at that moment. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, seduce her, and tear the clothing from her delectable body so tat I could ram the hard-on beating in my pants inside her.
I saw at once, however, that she was a delicate flower, and thus, I made up my mind to do something else entirely. I decided to court Destinee LaBlanc.
* * *
The Regency time was an era of fashion, art, culture, and extreme social etiquette. It was also headed for war with Napoleon.
There seemed to be an urgency about the business of hedonism, especially in Brussels, where balls were being given nearly every night in spite of the pending war. And at those balls and soirees, hushed whispers centered on what Wellington was about to do or what information had just escaped the Home Office.
We were removed from the main hub of gossip in Scotland but peripherally interested all the same. I found myself more and more attracted to Destinee as time flew by during my courtship. For the first time in a long time, I wanted the woman, not just the bedding of her. You may ask at some point if I loved her, and to this day, I cannot tell you that I did. I most certainly wanted her…
You may recognize the name Gaiscioch. He plays a major role in the Legend series, and he and I were always at opposite ends of the Council, very much in each other’s way. He was a dear friend of the queen’s, and yet, I had for centuries sensed an evil in him.
I should have known. I should have realized that day when I walked with Destinee in the village and he appeared and bent over her hand demanding an introduction. She seemed…taken with him.
He had not used compulsion on her, and still she seemed to like him. It troubled me. As I drove her home in the MacClean carriage, she said, “He is very striking with that white streak in his hair…and so very handsome.”
“Do you think so?” I felt myself stiffen and wondered how it was that both Fae and human females did not see past Gais’s good looks. He wasn’t even a royal, but even in Faery, he captured Fae hearts. It annoyed the hell out of me.
She laughed, held my arm, and looked up into my eyes. “Not, by any means, as attractive as you, my big handsome Lord Dagda.”
“Why do you never call me Breslyn?” It was a sticking point between us.
“It would not be seemly. I work for the MacCleans.”
“Whatever I wish is seemly,” I answered. “Say my name, Destinee…for I have a desire to hear it on your lips.”
“No, I shall not cross that line.”
“You will say it before this day is done,” I answered, much annoyed with her. I clicked the horses forward and into a faster pace.
But I did not see her the remainder of the day, as she stayed with the children in the schoolroom and then later retired to her own chamb
ers, not even emerging for dinner.
I went to Casey—Lady MacClean—and took her hand. “Walk with me, Cass.”
She fell into step with me as we took a tour of the halls of MacClean and said, “Ah, has she rejected your offer?”
“My offer? No…I didn’t think she was ready, so I did not offer,” I answered, a bit taken aback. “Would she reject it if I were to offer?”
“Yes.” She touched my cheek. “She loves you and thinks you the most handsome man in all of Scotland, but she is not in love with you.”
Oddly enough, I was not hurt. I was taken with her and I wanted her, but love? I don’t think I was in love. “I see…”
She laughed and said, “Yes, you do, don’t you…this is not the one, my darling Breslyn. She is but a diversion for you. She intrigues you more than any other female of your acquaintance, but you and I…we both know, she is not the one.”
I grinned; Casey always made me grin. She was full with child and was due any day, and I found her absolutely lovely. “Aye then, but you are, my sweet…”
“What’s that?” Shawn MacClean—a big brute of a Scotsman, Casey’s husband, and one of my dearest friends—shouted out as he came down the hall at us. “I’ll thank ye to get yer grubby hands off m’woman!”
I didn’t know at that moment why Destinee had remained above stairs. I didn’t know that she had a visitor who had decided to hurt us both.
I didn’t know what Gaiscioch had done …
Until the next morning, when Shawn stormed through the castle and grabbed me by the shoulders to exclaim, “Casey is beside herself! Ye must do something, old friend.”
“Anything…what is it?”
“The LaBlanc chit is gone, and she left a note saying that she is off with someone called Gaiscioch.”
“Damnation and bloody hell! I’ll have his neck for this, I will.”
“He is a Fae then?” Shawn asked on a dark look.
“Aye…and for the moment, there be naught we can do…for, Shawn, I fear she went with him of her own free will.” I shook my head. “I saw her face when she met him, and I saw the way she looked at him. He didn’t compel her…but, to leave in this fashion…?”
“He must have compelled her in the end. She would not have gone with him otherwise, would she?”
I wasn’t sure at that point, and so I went with Shawn to her room. There I saw the evidence of their night of lovemaking and imagined the promises he must have made her: life eternal at Faery with him.
However, at that moment, a chambermaid came running at us, screaming for Shawn and advising us that Casey had gone into labor.
I went with him to Casey, but she told us we were devils. That all men were devils forever doing terrible things to women, and that we had better get out while we could, so we did. We ran for the safety of the study and threw down some brandy as fast as we could.
I was hurting though. I may not have been fully in love, deep or otherwise, but she was the woman of my dreams at that point, and both pride and my so-called non-existent heart were taking a beating.
I stayed with the MacCleans for another week and then returned to Faery, where I got word Gaiscioch had a human squirreled away with him at his private retreat. I shook it off. So be it. She had made her bed, so to speak.
* * *
Here was the kicker: Gais had taken her only to get at me. He had her at his retreat, oh yeah, and he used her in every conceivable manner. He tortured her mentally, physically, and in ways I could not bear to think about. Because of me, he took this poor human beauty and ruined her for all time.
A month after Destinee had gone off with Gais, I returned from Faery to visit with Shawn MacClean. We went to the local tavern for a couple of pints. I love engaging in human pastimes, and this ritual men have of drowning their sorrows together at a tavern is most satisfying. At any rate, Gais chose that moment to complete his coup de gras. He dumped (and there is no other word for it) my little Destinee into the tavern. He dragged her through the tavern door, shouting at her that she was a worthless whore, and he threw her across the floor to lie naked, dirty, and totally out of her mind.
We Fae can cure almost all things, but we cannot cure, either in Fae or human, madness.
I was ahead of Shawn, covering her with my long coat, picking her up in my arms, and carrying her out of the tavern, where Shawn took her from me and put her ahead of him on his horse.
“Take her home, Shawn.”
“Of course, my friend, we will see to her…”
I turned and saw Gaiscioch with a look on his face that made me lose all control. I was on him before he could shift away.
Rage filled me as I tore into him, beating him even though he attempted to ward off my blows. I am a royal, with powers untold, power and might never to be used in such a physical fashion against a lesser Fae. It is a sacred rule, one I broke that evening.
I screamed obscenities at him, and every time he tried to land a blow my way or block my onslaught, I pounded him. He fell, and I was on top of him, hammering and beating; I had called for my Death Sword and it was in my leveled grip when suddenly my wrist was held fast.
I looked up to see my closest, most dearest friend, Danté, Prince of Lugh, holding me with back with determination. He whispered, “You may not kill a fellow Fae, Bres…”
“Get off me!” I demanded.
“No, Bres…if you kill him, you will be forever banished…or worse. He is the queen’s trusted friend.”
“Do you know what he did?”
“Yes, I ran into Shawn on my way to visit with you at MacClean…I know.”
“Aaibhe will not punish him for this.”
“She is a just, good queen and will sanction him. We will see to it. He has interfered with a human life. He will be sanctioned before all the Council.”
He pulled me off Gaiscioch, who was lying in a pool of his own blood. He was an immortal, and he would heal quickly. The Death Sword would have put an end to his miserable life, and knowing now what he would become, I often think of that day and wish I had incurred banishment rather than allow him to live.
* * *
Proof is a tenuous thing, and when I brought Gais up on charges before the Council, Danté stood at my side ready to support my accusations; however, the only thing he had witnessed was me beating the hell out of Gaiscioch.
The devil covered himself well. I proclaimed, “He threw her naked in the tavern.”
He answered, “She tore off her clothes just outside the tavern and threw herself down in the mud, hugging my ankles, begging me to keep her.”
“You tortured her till she went mad!” I spat at him.
“She was insane…I didn’t know it till it was too late,” Gais responded.
He had an answer for everything I threw at him, and he was the queen’s trusted friend. They decided to believe I had been mistaken—that I had seen things through my clouded dislike of him, my jealousy that the human had gone with him instead of me. It was humiliating and defeating.
The queen came to me and said what I needed was a mission, and one in which only I could help her as her worthy prince. I knew she was trying to bolster my spirits. I knew she wanted to get me away from Gais because she saw the ‘intent to kill’ in my eyes.
Ete tells me that was a defining moment for me and that writing it all down will be important, and Ete is wise beyond her years.
All these things went into making me the Fae prince I am now, she says, and so I am putting pen to paper so to speak because I did learn a great deal from that experience.
Destinee remained with the MacCleans. She was a broken woman…off in a world of her own … and the name she called in her sleep was his, Gaiscioch, for she had been a woman in love…with him.
I visited with her often, sat with her, and now and then she would be lucid and laugh before vanishing once more into her ‘other world’, but each time before her thoughts wandered and took her to safety, she told me of Gais’s false promises and
then of his endless abuse. I have often thought I should lie in wait for him and return the favor…
And then the queen came for me at MacClean and said we had a mission. A creature, a vampire-like creature, Lamia DuLaine, was about to ruin the life of a member of the queen’s favorite Druid families. Queen Aaibhe said the time had come to act, and yet, how could we prevent the inevitable if we adhered to the rules of non-interference?
My queen said we would find a way to help without breaking the rules.
Yeah, right—and at this point I think it time to hand over the pen, because this is where Legend truly begins …
~ One ~
IN THE SPRING in the year of 1814 was when DuLaine first saw him. It was as though she felt the humanity in herself all at once, all over again.
However, in reality more than a thousand years had passed, and the humanity in Lamia DuLaine had been extinguished long ago.
She watched him. He was tall, and his black waves of hair framed a chiseled, roguishly handsome face. His deep blue eyes twinkled as he conversed and laughed with his companions, unaware of her stare.
She watched and chided herself. He was a man, only a man. However, there was something magnetic in his appearance. There was something glowing in his aura. There was something that made her feel—and she never felt anything for anyone, other than Shamon.
She sensed greatness in this man and more…something she could not name. She felt suddenly alive. She could feel electricity vibrate off his body and fluctuate in a rhythm that penetrated to a place her soul had once occupied.
She couldn’t look away from him.
She felt a fire heat her forehead, burn her cheeks from deep within her body.
In that short space of time, she knew she had to have him. She had to walk beside him, lust with him, and make him her own!
It had been a glance, just a glance, but it would change her life forever!
That was how it all began to crumble. That was when it all went wrong for her.