#THE WAY I FORGOT TO TAG HIM ROIAGHLFALS;FDNSKAF

[mordredpendragon]

FVLDFNL;KANLFWPOJFOWJFLKGHLFDA;DA LADLFADADFNLNALFNDSLGNDFN;LVNSFNSANFALF;WJFOKADSLKNFASLFNSLKDNFK MYF UCKGGIGN MEALLLLL !!!!!!!!!!!! IM SO FED!!!!!!! IM SHAKINGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

^ taliesin while they were making out

EVERYONE GO READ THIS RIGHT NOW !!!!!!

if ur still doing the kiss ask game... uhmmmm.... 💜 🙈 with medraut and peredur (IF YOU WANT....)

Hi Cain!!!! I so hope you enjoy this!!!!! It's more Welsh myth that I was honestly going for but like still. Also, I made up the song they discuss but Llŷr and Euroswydd are referenced in Branch 2 of the Mabinogion. I made up that Llŷr was restrained by chair as it were, because one of the constellations in Welsh was called Llŷr's chair way back when. But, yeah, I'm gonna shut up now! Pls enjoy!!!!

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

It was late when I walked down the corridor towards the Great Hall. The candles in the sconces burned low, perfuming the tepid air with beeswax. Rain lashed at the windows while the moon scythed blades of white across the walls. Outside the striking of iron on stone rattled through the courtyard.

And then came a shout. A muffled command. 

“Cae drŵs!”

‘Close the door. Who’s back this late? It won't be Owain, for he's still in Dumnonia with Geraint.’ I frowned, stopping my stride to peer out of the window.

The braziers outside illuminated a dark plum cloak, heavy with rain, and the catseye flash of silver-black armour as Medrawd stormed towards the main entrance, the clamour of his armour slicing through the tranquility of the tenebrous night.

He did not see me. I was glad for that. If our eyes had met through the window then I do not know what I would've done. Something infantile, I fear. 

Or something that would have shamed me.

Through the oaken doors, Taliesin played a lilting ditty, the notes of his harp mingling with the honey-richness of his voice. I pushed them open without much thought and strode in, stumbling to a stop when my eyes met his.

Medrawd.

Drenched from the downpour, he'd shucked off his cloak and laid it across one of the benches near the fire so it could dry. A puddle glimmered near the fire too, a dark black lake against the grey of the flagstones. I thanked God that Lord Cai couldn't see it or else he'd be gnashing his teeth until he became as red as his hair. His eyes met mine, dragon dark and liquid pitch. He smirked in greeting. “Peredur, come to join us so late? I’d have thought you would have been slumbering abed still like a good little novice.”

I shook my head. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Over the Gododdin Prince’s slight shoulder I met Taliesin’s blue eyes, saw his thin, graceful fingers cease their conjuring of rhythms. He set the harp down upon his lap, content to watch the spectacle between us unfold.

“Oh,” He chuckled, the sound as dark as the sky outside. “For shame.” His eyes met Taliesin's then, and he continued, “Some music, my good bard, if you please. I won't converse without it. Tell me, do you know the tale of Llŷr and Euroswydd?”

Taliesin's blue eyes held his. Slowly, he nodded, his fingers twitching around the harp in his lap. 

“Play it for us then,” Medrawd demanded, his voice smooth. “And you, my erstwhile Peredur, come and sit.” With one grand flourish, he gestured to the bench his cloak was draped over and led the way to it, his boots echoing around the nebulous hall, only to be muffled by the thatched roof. 

Behind me, Taliesin sighed before he started to play. He sang beautifully, of course, for he always did, while the tune was plaintive, mournful, coming back to a haunting refrain of “Y môr cadwyn yn galw i mi/ Llŷr yn galaru ei gariad /Tywyllwch yn ffrwyno/ anrheg Euroswydd.”

“It’s pretty isn't it?” Medrawd said once we’d taken our seats and he'd poured us both a goblet of wine. He took a sip and leaned back in his seat, looking positively at ease. “Do you know the words? Or did your mother never teach you the dirges for the Old Gods afore she passed?”

I swallowed and shook my head. “No.” I said, my heart clenching at the mention of my mam. “She didn't. She was far more interested in… in ensuring I wasn't taken from her.”

“I see,” Medrawd replied before he sang: “‘The chained sea calls to me/Llŷr mourns his love. Darkness restrains him/Euroswydd's gift.’” 

I let the words wash over me, enjoying the way the gruffness in his voice was smoothed away, mellowed out. All the while, I tried to ignore the odd tightening in my chest, the vicious tug on my heart. Yet I’m certain he saw the inquisitive furrow that marred my brow for he proceeded to say, “It's about Llŷr Llediaith, the sea lord and Manawydan’s father. How he was subdued by Euroswydd’s chair. He gifted it to him and then, once Llŷr accepted, Euroswydd sprung his trap and cast the chair - and Llỳr with it - into a prisoner within the bowels of the sea. “And then Euroswydd took Llŷr's wife, Lady Penarddun, for himself.”

“And that's how Efnisien came into being, isn't it?”

Raising a dark eyebrow in askance at how I knew that, he gave a sharp nod. The sharply whittled lines of his face, his cheekbones, his nose, made him akin to the mountains of my homeland, each line etched into my skin and bones. The wind had winnowed the harshness of the stone away, eroded it into screes and softly sloped plateaus, and - in the dark blood of the firelight - I thought I could see the same in his face. In his eyes. The scent of him muddled my head, a musky fug that made my mouth water.

“My brothers,” I continued, my hand tightening around the cool pewter of my goblet. “They told me. I had seven. I was the youngest. But one day they followed my father into war and, well, they died. My mam, she became Christian, like y Brenin Arthur, and raised me by herself. And, well, you know the rest, my lord. Better men than I have told you what became of me.”

Medrawd chuckled again. An amused smile played about his lips. His eyes twinkled like a spearpoint, like obsidian, and I found myself being drawn into his gaze as though I were a rabbit caught in a sling. “Better men? No. They are on par with you, even my brother though he'd loathe to admit it.”

I frowned. “Lord Gwalchmai? Are you certain?”

Medrawd nodded and leaned forward, his eyes gleaming conspiratorially. “Ay.” His breath ghosted across my cheek in a sour cloud of wine. “He won't tell you but he and our cousin used to have battles all the time when they were younger. And then there's what happened with our father. A tragedy really. My mother wept for days, so Haf said whenever he used to inform me of it.” He tapped the rim of his goblet thoughtfully, the rhythm in time with the whirling springtime current of Taliesin's harp. “No, my lord Efrawg, Gwalchmai will not tell you anything. His golden tongue will remain leaden on that.”

I hummed in response, half believing and half not. A drop of wine clung to his lips and I couldn't help but stare at it, watching the curve of his lips and the column of his throat as he drank again. 

“And what were you doing tonight?” I said once he'd finished. The drop was still there, clinging steadfastly to his skin, and he sighed, his shoulders tensing a little.

“If you really must satisfy your curiosity then it was an assignation, my lord.” He ran a hand through his dark, damp curls, the fire casting them to an auburn similar to his older brothers. 

“But she didn't show?”

“He.” He said with a level state and a calmness that took my breath away. “He didn't show. And so I came away drenched and unsatisfied.” 

I hummed, the noise echoed and dimmed by my goblet as I took a swig, my throat suddenly raw from the heat of the room. God above, when had the fire become an inferno? When had the room caved in, narrowed in my eyeline, consumed by Medrawd's mossy eyes? The air was rich with the scent of wine and rain. Of ambergris and mud.

“But…” his eyes flicked to my lips, tracing them. “I think I can still have some fun if you're willing.”

I took another sip of my drink and choked around it, “If I’m-”

Without any further preamble he reached forward, grasped my hair with his hands and tugged me towards him, laughing a little when I flung my hands against his chest so as to try and steady myself. My heart hammered in my chest and I couldn't help but flinch when he cupped the back of my head. His hold was surprisingly tender, and when he pressed our lips together he moaned softly. 

His lips were soft. 

A remnant of the rain-sweet outside air filmed my tongue. My eyes fluttered shut and I groaned as he deepened the kiss, demanding more and more from me with each brush of his lips. My heartbeat reverberated through my body, meshed with Taliesin's harp, and I gripped Medrawd’s tunic as hard as I was able until, with another dark, lovely laugh, he pulled away, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“Good,” He declared, a strange softness in his eyes. A feline smile graced his face and murmured, “Now, shall we retire?”

With a deep, sharp gasp I nodded, somehow feeling as though I'd drowned and then resurfaced for air. 

And then, tentatively, carefully, I stood. Then I offered him my hand. He gripped it firmly, the coolness of his fingers sending goosebumps up my arms. I willingly let myself be pulled off the bench by him and stumbled out the door behind him, Taliesin’s dulcet tones spilling out into the darkened corridor.