Vow Unbroken
Faerie Tales No. 3
T.J. Deschamps
Edited by
Van D. Vicious
Illustrated by
Les
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons or places in reality is purely coincidental, and likely the work of the fae. Any slander of the queen of the faeries is not the author’s intent. This is the story as she was told by the wild shades who haunt the forests of her mind.
©T.J. Deschamps 2021
All Rights reserved
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
(If you pirate this book. The fae will also curse you and your children to the eleventh generation to have un-pullable chin hairs that smell like feta.)
Created with Vellum
Contents
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Foreword
When you read through these stories, you’ll find names from The Ulster Cycle and the Ballad of Tam Lin. These tales were originally set in two different time periods, and hail from two different countries. Take this work as a fan fiction of Celtic mythology that spanned all of what is now Ireland, Scotland, and much of pre-Roman northern Europe. I know; I know. Fan fiction is a dirty word to some but if we’re going to be honest that’s what all fairytale retellings are: reimagining myths into new legends.
To Alex, my late grandfather. Thank you for capturing my young imagination with your vivid tales and for giving me plenty of love and belly laughs.
Prologue
“Out Spoke the Queen of the Fairies,
In angry tones said she,
‘Had I but known this story
One hour before the day,
I’d taken out your false, false heart,
And put in one of clay.”
--Tam Lin
from The Traditional Tunes of the Child Ballads
by Bertrand Harris Bronson
Once again Tamlin had entered manhood and once again Fergus and Aoife were bid to bring him to Mab the Queen of the Sidhe to fulfill his promise to her, to remember his vow…or die.
In a corner booth in a busy Brooklyn bar called the The Laird, Fergus sipped a mediocre beer while he, his wife, and his sister-in-law Niamh watched the copper-haired bartender flirt with just about every person who deigned to order a beer.
Many eyes had turned to the three sitting together when they first arrived, including the bartender. He first eyed the sisters. Niamh and Aoife were a study of contrasts. Niamh dark and tall. Aoife short with hair that got her mistaken as a redcap instead of the kelpie she and her sister were. Not that Aoife had the ability to transform anymore. Fergus was a man of another time, big for then, average height now, and something altogether different than what he was then. All of their lives had changed because of the bartender who entertained three lasses perched at the bar.
All three lasses had different looks, but similar clothes and similar appetites by the way they hung on to the lad’s every word. They seemed to be about the reincarnation’s age. They ogled the lad as he rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal tanned, well-muscled forearms covered with coppery hair.
Five hundred years or a thousand could pass and Fergus still felt his pulse quicken at the sight of the lad. Unlike the first time he’d seen Tamlin’s reincarnation, this time a heavy ache settled in his chest. He’d gotten away without killing him last time. He hoped to whatever gods weren’t rotten bastards he’d not be forced to kill him ever again.
Leaning in conspiratorially, Niamh whispered, “Why don’t we simply take the lad? I could walk up there, bind him to me and drag him to Elphame.” She could have shouted in the din and none of the patrons would be the wiser.
Fergus said nothing, but his dear wife, Aoife was happy to oblige her sister’s curiosity. “It is part of the promise Mab made to him that she’d never force him back. He gets to live out his days.”
Niamh frowned and then cocked her head. “What happens if you simply say you couldn’t get him to come?”
“She’ll make our lives miserable at her leisure until this one dies and a new one comes of age. It is part of our oaths from when she made this one immortal.”
Fergus grunted. Aoife had conveniently left out the oath she swore to save her own arse from her father’s matchmaking, but he suspected Niamh knew that part.
“You’ll be a kelpie again if we manage this.” Nodding at Fergus, she asked, “Will he become mortal?”
Aoife paled and suddenly found her drink interesting. “I suppose they both will.”
At that moment, Tamlin’s reincarnation turned his green gaze in Fergus’s direction, unaware their fates had been linked for hundreds of years, nor that Fergus had loved him as much as he loved his sweet wife.
“Looks like you’re the one he fancies this time, my love,” Aoife whispered under her hand.
Fergus snorted. “Do you not remember Tamlin in his prime? He’s looking to bed all of us and half the bar to boot.”
“That should make him easy game,” Niamh replied.
Eyes on the reincarnation, Aoife sighed. “Works every time.”
All three of them turned their attention to the lad, raising their drinks in silent toast. The lad smiled, forgot the lasses at the bar, and unsuspectingly headed into the fae trap.
Chapter 1
Fagan
Fagan could feel the thinness in the Veil. All he had to do was step on the other side and he’d be back in the mortal realm, free of the kelpie. Yet he tarried, holding out the hope that Aoife would come back and make things right. That she’d see the error of her scheme.
He regretted his sharp burst of anger spurred by jealousy that she was already betrothed—to a sorcerer king no less. Aoife had even admitted to once loving mac Daire. If being betrothed to another were all, Fagan could have forgiven her. What made him want to part company was she didn’t deny that Fagan had been a tithe, a thing to wager to get the queen’s protection, and she didn’t see using him thusly was the same misdeed her father had done to her.
“Hold! Do not take a single step further.”
Fagan spun on his heel in the direction of the command. Just beyond the trees, a knight in gleaming armor sat upon a white steed. A ray of light beamed on the impressive sight as if the clouds had parted simply for this warrior—fae trickery no doubt.
A sickening sense of dread filled Fagan. Aoife had betrayed him, and the queen had sent a knight for her tithe. “I have no bargain with ye wild shade, and ye hold no jurisdiction upon the land beyond the Veil. Nay. I will not do as ye command. I shall take that step, if I please.” Fagan couldn’t believe his own boldness, especially since he didn’t do as he threatened. He should run. Fear and curiosity held him in place.
“I said hold!”
Instead of charging, the knight dismounted. Breeching the distance between him and Fagan, he removed his helmet and carried it under one arm. A copper-headed lad, beautiful as a sunset and not much older than Fagan approached. The stranger possessed the build and grace of a dancer.
A niggling voice told him this meant nothing, that he should flee before he became entangled with
more fae, but Fagan stayed in place. The truth was, he had nowhere to run.
“Did ye recently spend time in the company of Princess Aoife, daughter of Mannan mac Lir?”
Fagan’s hand fell to his practice sword. He had never seen a king nor a sorcerer, but this knight had the air of human nobility, not a wild shade. The stranger even spoke like a noble, all haughty and assuming. If this were Cu Roi mac Daire, Fergus could see full-well how he’d dazzled Aoife for a time with his looks.
“Who’s asking?”
The knight laughed. Then he bowed with a flourish. “Tamlin, Knight Protector of the Queen of the Sidhe, formerly the grandson of a laird of the lowlands.” A smile touched his lips but did not reach his eyes. “However, I doubt he—or any of my kin alive when I left for that matter—yet live to vouch for me.” Though his air was playful like a laird’s son without a care, the knight’s eyes assessed Fagan with a cold thoroughness of someone sizing up an enemy.
Fagan took his hand off the sword. This was not mac Daire and therefore not his enemy. “Aye, Tamlin, Knight Protector of the Sidhe and lowlander laird, I am the one who kept company with the princess.”
“Yer wanted at court.”
“Will nae the queen deign to give the lass refuge without a tithe?”
Tamlin laid a hand on Fagan’s shoulder in a comforting manner and spoke in gentle tone, “Teind or nae, the queen cannae provide the princess refuge. Mannan mac Lir gave his daughter’s hand to the king of Ulaid. Cu Roi mac Daire himself fetched her.”
“No,” Fagan cried, gripping the hilt of his wooden sword. Aoife was in the hands of a man who had sent monsters to retrieve her. “The lass dinnae want to wed the evil bastard.”
“Aye. That she made plain.”
Fagan lowered his head. Maybe if he’d went with her, he could have challenged mac Daire. He had no delusions he could best the sorcerer king, but he could have bought Aoife enough time to run and seek refuge elsewhere.
“I dinnae care to be a courtier to a queen, Sir Tamlin. I best be on my way.”
A gauntleted hand squeezed Fagan’s shoulder. “I’ve come to offer ye a place in my army. There shall be wages, housing, and food in yer belly if ye come with me.”
He cocked his head and wrinkled his nose. “Why would ye want to do that?”
“Aoife. She vouched fer ye and her circumstance struck me.” The knight glanced over each of his shoulders, scanning the forest before he whispered, “I ken what it’s like to be trapped in a promise ye dinnae fully understand when ye made it.”
The sorrow in Tamlin’s green eyes touched Fagan.
“I thank ye for the offer in the place in yer guard, but I would rather make my own way.” Fagan appreciated the knight bearing the news, but he didn’t know whether to trust him with the plan formulating in his mind. It wouldn’t likely work, but he planned to earn some coin as a hired sword, eventually making his way to Ulaid.
Fagan swiped a hand over his face, knowing his prospects elsewhere were dim. If he could reach a laird’s keep, he could prove by combat to a chieftain he was a warrior worthy of a sword. Mayhap. He was a stranger to the lowlands and possessed no food nor coin to sustain him or bribe a guard to let him into a keep. He had no choice. He had to find a way to earn so he could find his way to Aoife.
“I shouldn’t be telling ye this.” Tamlin sighed. “I see much of my younger self in ye, and I see foolish plans that will only get ye killed brewing in that heid of yers.”
“I cannae stay with you and leave her with such a man. If no one else will stand up for her, I will.” Eventually.
Once again, the knight leaned in conspiratorially. His breath smelled of spiced wine. “Listen, there was some debt between Mab and Roi. It was paid when Aoife left with him. Now that they’re even, the queen has made no promise about returning Aoife a second time. The queen can be very generous with her gifts to those who serve her.”
“I can see.” Fagan eyed the horse with fancy baubles and Tamlin’s shiny armor.
“There’s more to me than what the human eye can fathom. Roi has sorcery, but he is no match for a fae knight. Especially not two of them. Come with me. Train. Learn how fae fight and earn the queen’s favor. She’ll bestow ye with weapons and the power ye need to defeat a monster like Cu Roi mac Daire.”
Having his doubts, Fagan snorted. “Nothing is freely given by the fae.”
Even Aoife had fed and cared for him, enticed him to come, hoping he’d win Mab’s affections so the queen would give the kelpie sanctuary. Yet he no longer felt anger at her for doing so. Aoife had let it be his choice when she could have easily bound him to her and forced him to come as her tithe. She also didn’t have to share her body with him. It galled him that mac Daire would take what should be freely given simply because he was a king.
Tamlin only smiled at his grumpiness. “Love, my friend. Love is always freely given. Everything else has a price. Come. Yer service to the queen will be price enough.”
Chapter 2
Aoife
The window of her chamber in a tower of Roi’s castle afforded Aoife a view of Ulaid’s mist-shrouded countryside. The mighty fortress jutted from a mountain side on a peninsula. Close to the sea, but not close enough for her to draw any real power. The pull of the sea weighed heavily upon her.
On their trip back from the Sidhe faerie to Ireland’s coast, Roi did not behave as he had when he’d come to Emain Ablach. He’d grown sullen and introspect, often shrouded by a grey cloak.
Upon entering the castle, the king had ordered Aoife taken to the queen’s chambers until after the ritual. She knew nothing of human customs and had not the faintest idea what ‘the ritual’ was about. Her only comfort was the king had not sought her out to perform her wifely duties.
In fact, she hadn’t seen anyone but her lady-in-waiting—a waifish girl of twenty or so with mouse brown hair, skin like milk and large brown eyes perpetually glossy with tears. The maid would go about her duties somber and quiet, sprinting from the room as soon as she’d completed her tasks. Aoife was fed, bathed, and dressed in lavish gowns she swore smelled of another woman. She would have assumed them donated by some noble kin of Roi’s, what the staff could muster on short notice, but the room smelt of faerie magic, not a human. Perhaps a brownie or some other fae domestic worked for Roi.
The lady’s maid entered the room, her face somber as always. When she looked upon Aoife sitting in the window, the lass suddenly burst into tears.
Aoife crossed the room and took the tray from the sobbing maid, setting it aside on the dressing table. She wrapped an arm around the weeping lass as she would for any of her sisters and steered her to the bed. They both sat. Aoife missed the company of women. She petted the lass’s hair and rubbed her back until the girl finally calmed to quiet weeping.
“Has someone abused ye?”
The girl lifted her large, dark eyes. Aoife could see now the maid was a halfling, brownie blood mixed with human.
“Nay.”
“Why do ye weep so?”
Her pink mouth quivered.
Aoife placed a gentle kiss on the corner of her lips and stroked her silky, fine hair, making hushing sounds to quiet her. This seemed to mollify the brownie halfling. Unlike humans, who only seemed affectionate with lovers and their young, fae constantly touched and wanted to be touched.
“He’s only a cottier’s son. Not a person such as yerself should be concerned with.”
“What about him?”
“He shall be the tithe for the ritual,” the maid whispered. “The lad believes the king has bestowed him a great honor, as does everyone else, but it is not. The ritual ‘tis not for the land at all. Queen Bláthnat said so, and the queen never lied. She cannot.”
“Queen Bláthnat?” Aoife reared her head. She knew the name well, not as a queen, but as one of the Tuatha Dé Danann—Aoife’s Folk of the Air kin. Bláthnat was a princess and her parents’ death and her ascension to the throne would be no small news. It would have r
eached Emain Ablach before Aoife left. A marriage to a human king, however, would not. “Queen of what?”
The girl gasped and covered her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to speak her name ever again. Please. Please do not tell the king.”
“Do not fret. What is said within these walls is betwixt ye and me.” Aoife kissed the lass’s forehead, reassuring her, though her own thoughts raced. How had Bláthnat come here? Was she a prisoner too? Was Roi collecting fae wives? “Where is the queen now? I am her kin. I wish to see that she is well.”
The brownie halfling twisted her skirts in her hands. “The king will punish me if I tell.”
“I give ye my word. I will not tell the king anything I learn from ye. The queen is my cousin and I only fret after her well-being, ye see. Last I knew, she was still in her father’s castle.”
“The king and his longtime friend, leading the Red Branch army, raided that very castle. Cu Roi mac Daire claimed her as his war prize. He brought her here and tried to put an heir on her, but she hated the king and did the things necessary to prevent becoming with child.”
Good for her. “Where is she now?”
The maid swallowed hard. Her voice came out in a soft whisper, “She ran off to be with her true love, Cuchulainn. Neither has been seen since. I hear talk that the king believes they’re gathering an army to take over his lands.”
Aoife shuddered at the name Cuchulainn. He was well-known for his prowess in battle, even among the fae. He was also known to already possess a wife. What was her cousin thinking? This would mean war between these two kings. Aoife also realized she’d lain with Roi and allowed him to challenge her for her hand in marriage without knowing a thing about his past. What could he want from her when he was already bound to a fae?
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