Chapter 19.1

The sun stood high in the sky as Eirwen eagerly waited at the central plaza of Leathad Den Ghrian. She couldn't bear the wait, constantly wondering when he would show up at last. She had no idea how Aodhán had managed to not rush for her, instead following tradition of greeting his father first, now that his year in the mountains was done.

Gods, it felt weird to think his name. It'd been so long. Letters and dreams didn't do her desire justice. She needed him, couldn't wait to marry him, spend the rest of their lives together. As she was already getting lost in her imagination, a gentle squeeze in her shoulder drew her attention. She looked to her right, at the smiling face of her mother. A nod towards their front. Eirwen's eyes turned there, laying eyes on Aodhán, accompanied by Duke Flameheart. Both of their grins were as large as her own.

On her left, Duke Verglas smiled, his stately figure making it easy to forget that he married into his position. His beloved wife had forgone most etiquette, focused entirely on being happy that Eirwen finally got to reunite with her betrothed. How Eirwen resisted the urge to jump in his arms, she didn't know, while leisurely Aodhán came closer.

No, not leisurely. He had been eager, jumping at the bit while his father got him to walk at a normal pace. But now he was slowing down, a frown growing on his face, causing everyone's smiles to falter. What was on his mind, that made him look at her with heartbreak? Merely six paces away from her, he knelt, looking at the ground instead of at her eyes. Her heart tore itself apart within her chest. Not again.

"Mo Chroí. I don't deserve you." His voice trembled, wept, breaking as much as her heart now did at hearing those words. Yet mercilessly he continued his rejection. "Your happiness should have mattered above all else. And I have failed you there." She didn't understand. What did he mean? Didn't he realise it never had been his fault?

He rose and turned from her, tears in his eyes as he walked away, everyone in shock at the turn of events. She called after him, desperate for an explanation, even though she felt like she should already know. "Mo Chéadsearc! Why do you turn from me?"

He looked back at her, his eyes showing he didn't fully understand either. But as she thought that, she could see the change, him realising why, filling him with guilt but certainty. "Because I didn't side with you. And you deserve a life with someone who will." Eirwen saw the resolve and pain in his eyes, though that resolve wavered, while the pain reigned absolute.

Besides him, his father scoffed. Ah, that looked more like him. The joyful grin from before had been horribly out of character for the man. He frowned at his son. "Useless. Why on earth would you turn away from her? After all the work I did to make you a man, this is how you repay me?" Eirwen shivered in response to the harsh tone, with words that she had never heard the man say before.

She kept her eyes on Aodhán, desperately trying to observe every detail, understand what was going on. His head slowly turned towards his father and she saw something change in his eyes as he did that. He had caught on, he knew now. She expected him to hesitate, take a breath, close his eyes for a moment. But no, the rage simply grew to a crescendo. "Because you killed them!" In a flash, the back of his hand struck out and bashed into his father, Aodhán's figure suddenly having grown to thrice the size.

The Duke slid back a bit, glaring at his son all the same. A small amount of blood in the corner of his mouth as he sent a look desiring murder at his son. Before he could open his mouth, Aodhán snarled, unbridled rage lighting an inferno in his eyes as his massive figure towered over his father. "And I knew, oh I knew, that you had stooped that low. That you were that pathetic. But I was worse, as even then, I still sided with you instead of Eirwen."

His father scoffed in defiance. "As if you had a chance. All Flameheart territories knew the meaning of loyalty, and the price paid for defying me. You were alone, and even the Crimson Giant didn't stand a chance against me.'

Aodhán suddenly wrapped his massive hands around his father as he roared out. "Then I should have died trying!" Eirwen's heart shattered at that statement, but at the same time her mind raced. This moment was all wrong, fake, a recollection of what never was. Manipulated. This wasn't right. Not even the best dream or worst nightmare could feel like this. Then what was it...

He continued, his voice full of self-loathing. "If I had died, you would have had nothing left. You already lost the others, I was your final chance. One last hurrah, your only option for glory beyond your days, for being able to pretend it had all been worth it. Couldn't just have me gain her dukedom in marriage, no, it had to be under your authority. A pathetic desire to pretend your existence mattered. But for that legacy, you needed a skilled child. You needed me."

Aodhán rose to his feet, letting his father slip from his grasp, towering above and looking down in pure contempt. "Without me, you would have been an empty shell. And knowing that I had gone against you, knowing that I had died standing up against you, would have cost you the council. They would have stood aside, let Verglas come for your head. You would have died alone, knowing you were naught but a disgrace."

His eyes turned to self-hatred. "All these years I plotted, sought a way to get the council to stand against you. And all this time the solution was so very simple. I should have just died. That was the answer I had been looking for. Die by your hands, taking everything from you, and freeing Eirwen to find someone worthy of her heart."

Ah. She had no choice but to fully agree with Lady Róisín now. That look in his eyes, the way he had launched himself at his father, displaying no restraint whatsoever. He truly was mad. In here, he felt like he had lost her, that there was nothing left for him in this world. And in a dream without witnesses, he could let go of his own restraints. Speak the thoughts that he dared not even admit to himself, let alone to her. Liar. He had promised no more secrets. Yet even now, he hid his despair from her. Tears came to her eyes as she realised she hated him for concealing his pain.

His eyes moved on from his father and rage came over him once more. When he spoke, it was with a growl that echoed and resonated, a fury that chilled her to her very bones. "And you..." Her parents both took a step back and it took her a lot to not do the same. She feared him. He turned towards her, and she was very glad his eyes shot past her, looking just slightly to her left. "You dare take that shape as you taunt me with what could never be. You dare desecrate her father's memory."

Aodhán cracked his neck as his shape grew even larger. He bared his teeth in a vicious snarl, worse than the most ferocious wolf that Eirwen had ever laid eyes upon. "I will give you one chance. Surrender and your death will be merciful. I suggest you take the offer. For if you don't, I will hunt you down and I will strangle you slowly with your own insides, before ripping out your heart and devouring it in front of you. And with your final breath, you will fear that even in the next life, I will get my revenge on you."

Eirwen shivered in response to the threat, his promise turning to a vision for her, showing exactly how he meant to murder the man responsible. She turned to the intruder, weeping as she saw her father's figure with a vicious grin that would have suited Duke Flameheart, not her father. How dare he.

The fake responded, almost managing to hide the trembling of his voice as he spoke with utter disregard. "For what it's worth, I never meant to taunt you. This was but a trap, showing you what you truly wanted, to lure you in. Just the two of you, desperately reaching out to each other, chaining yourselves to the dream. But even that you failed to grant yourself. Know this, nameless. The pain you're feeling is your fault. As is the fear you inflicted upon your one true love."

She didn't even need to look in his direction to understand his eyes were now opening wide in realisation. A small turn of his head towards her. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, seeing shame, despair, utter regret at what he had let her overhear. And then she saw the mask come on. The mask that looked the way he always looked. The face she could never truly trust again.