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writingismadnessinmymind · 2 years ago

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The Story of Morrígan

Before the Tuatha Dé Danann roamed the land of the Irish, Morrígan was born into the farmer family of Ernmas as one of three children. None of them seemed to inherit special abilities and lived a simple life.

But there came the day that Morrígan and her brother Glonn played by the river. Morrígan hadn’t reached the age of ten yet and Glonn wasn’t older than eight. The water though was so deep that none of them could stand on the ground. The little girl had tried to run away from her brother but stumbled over a root and fell into the water.

The stream was too fast for Glonn to reach out his hand or a branch and so Morrígan got carried away and drawn under the water. Glonn cried out for help but Ernmas was too far away to hear them. By the time he had gotten his mother and returned with her to the river, they had already lost the hope for Morrígan to survive.

The bigger was the surprise as they found the girl lying next to the riverbed, surrounded by ravens who gently picked at her pitch-black hairs, the dress, and her fingers. First, the two wanted to shoo them away, but when Morrígan opened her eyes, her stare let them halt: It was like one of the ravens glared at them. She sat up and held her hands protectively over the group, declaring that they had saved her life and they shall be her companions from now on.

And so Ernmas and Glonn accepted the decision and thanked the ravens despite their restraint.

***

The three siblings grew older, all of them were distinguished by extraordinary beauty and grace, however, when Morrígan was old enough to be married, no one wanted to take her as a wife for the ravens never parted from her. She got depressed and watched how her siblings celebrated ree-raws at their weddings.

Eventually, at Glonn’s party, Morrígan was struck by her first vision. She had collapsed in the middle of a dance, the ravens viciously cawing on the branches. When she woke up again, she had been awestruck, frightened so much that she didn’t tell a word and left the celebration immediately. But her sister followed her outside to ask her what had happened.

Morrígan wouldn’t answer her right away, but Ériu didn’t give up until she spoke: The vision had depicted her brother’s death. She had felt it. They both agreed to not speak about it further, but the next day war with the neighbor kingdom was declared and Glonn was called for the battle. Morrígan was haunted by even more visions as soon as her brother had set forth on the journey, showing her a dozen other deaths.

Scared as she was, she ran away into the nearby forest, speaking to the ravens, accusing them to be the reason for all of this and that they had cursed her, but none of them would agree. They just stared at her. And from the look they gave her, she realized that they had been her only friends since they had rescued her.

The battle ended as she had foreseen it and by the time the lost souls wandered over the battlefield, Morrígan was drawn to them by an invisible force. She started to run as the urge grew stronger, ran faster and faster and suddenly she flew with her ravens. She couldn’t realize what had happened, but when she reached the field with the bodies of her dead people and her brother, being able to see their souls wandering around forlorn, she knew that she was destined to bring them to the other side.

When she returned home to her mother and sister to tell them the bad news, she got rejected. Her sister accused her of being a hoodoo and she was sent away. From then on, she started to live on her own and the rumors about Morrígan, the goddess of war, were spread.

Morrígan learned to live with her new fate and to improve her new abilities. She wandered the country for many years and found a new home at the court of the Dagda, where she finally gained the respect and honor she always had wanted.

***

Her reputation preceded her in the way that the naive druid Somairhle once called her to insult her and accuse her to have taken his family wrongfully. Startled as she was by this behavior, Morrígan declined and disappeared. But the druid wouldn’t stop summoning her over and over again. In the beginning, it was always the same topic, but their encounters changed slowly and his clever questions caught her interest. Moreover, for she had gotten bored by life at court.

They spent a lot of time together and eventually Morrígan fell in love with him. She decided to take advantage and seduce him, so they would spend a night together.—Which wouldn’t be the only one, however, Morrígan never really knew if he returned her feelings for he hadn’t admitted this affair to anyone nor told her that he loved her.

Eventually, when his apprenticeship was completed, Morrígan worked up the courage to ask him if he would want to be her official mate and join her at the court of the Dagda in Murias, but he declined and, instead, went on a run.

Devastated to be left alone again, Morrígan returned to the court which was all upset because they were in the middle of their move to Ireland. Nuada, together with his father had decided that they would expand their realm upon the island and therefore every helping hand was needed. Morrígan hadn’t taken part in the preparations so far, but she welcomed the distraction now.

Until the first battle of Magh Tuireadh. The weeks before, vision after vision haunted the goddess in her sleep until she decided to quit sleeping at all. Exhausted, aghast, and frightened of the upcoming great slaughter, Morrígan went to the river that parted the territories. The sight reminded her of the place where she and her brother had used to play as children. It was peaceful, but the peace was destroyed when Dagda joined her side.

She knew that he was longing for her quite some time, but since she had been with the druid, she never returned his advances. Today, however, she was too tired and too numb to care about it and gave in.

They spent the night together by the river and the next morning they headed to the battlefield. He and Nuada pleaded for her help, which Morrígan agreed on and took part herself, enhancing the morals of her men and frighten those of the enemy.

Dagda, though, had misinterpreted their night, and so, after they won the battle, he decided to announce their engagement. Now, she had to live with him for three months at least, before she could make use of the law of engagement to get separated again without becoming unhonored. But as destiny was unkind, the night she had spent with Dagda had been fruitful which she noticed on her last day of the engagement.

***

Her first son was named Bodb Dearg, which means Red Crow.—A reminder of the bloody circumstances of the night and day this child was created.

***

The marriage was unhappy and soon, Morrígan would learn that Dagda cheated on her occasionally. He became father to three more children whilst their time together. But she felt relieved because she didn’t need to share a bed with him anymore.

Time passed and the second battle of Magh Tuireadh came upon them. This time, they would lose even more warriors and Dagda was one of them. Nuada would continue ruling over the Tuatha Dé until the siege of the Milesians, where eventually he died as well. After the Tuatha Dé lost, they retreated to the sidhé, the realm beneath the hills which they separated equally amongst the greatest families. Morrígan’s son Bodb Dearg, though, was elected king of the Tuatha Dé and the Phantom Queen as she had been named in the last decade, secluded herself.

Morrígan returned to her more loved tasks as the sovereignty of the corn and cattle, as well as a goddess of fertility, and only occasionally wandered the realm of the Milesians or the Fir Bolg and Fomorians to collect souls of her own kind.

p r e s e n t d a y

Over the centuries, Morrígan grew more and more bored with her tasks, so she decided to sneak herself into the mortal society from time to time, playing a variety of roles and people, ending up as a fashion model for Anthony Vaccarello.

The bio is loosely based on Irish folklore. I tried to give the events and characters an order/relationship that made sense to me and filled it up with what I found fitting as well as OC material.

#original story #history #welsh #celtic #celtic mythology #irish mythology #tuatha de danann #morrigan #elf #fae #origin story

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writingismadnessinmymind · 2 years ago

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The History of Gwydion Mabinogi

Based loosely on the Welsh lore of Math fab Mathonwy (first half) Friendly reminder to read it in the context of history and weird tales. This plays around 400 A.D. and, thus, rape and patriarchy are common things. I do not support this behavior at all.

Picking up the pieces of a life once divine Now I pray for our existence while I waste away the time I take pause to search for reason as I plan for my escape And then I down yet another drink cause most times it makes me think … … Of you I can hear your voice, I can feel your pain Seems we’ve traveled so far and now we're back here again It's an only life in a lonely world In the end we all get what we deserve Oh, if I could break these chains and leave this place unscathed I’d pray the scars would fade away in time and that someday You’ll feel my pain, my pain Lost in all the changes, I confess to being confused For the time is unforgiving, to all those who waste it Chose the right path of destination Only truth can set you free, and like an archer I pierce your veil so that you can be revealed by me I can be alone. I can hold my own Since you chose to abandon us for places unknown I have had my fair share of ups and downs Throw stones inevitably hit the ground — Darkhaus, Feel my Pain What makes a man what he is, or better, what he pretends to be? Most will respond with ‘experiences’, ‘education’, or ‘character’. And they aren’t wrong. But many forget that the environment plays the most important role. Where did we grow up, under what circumstances and conditions? What duties were assigned to us that would not have been experienced elsewhere? What expectations do others have of us? All of this plays a major role in our personality development and is reflected in our behavior later. We act and respond instinctively as our judgment dictates. Refusing or suppressing our response to it is all the more difficult the more memorable an experience has been. It is easier for a trained eye to recognize such reactions because they’re difficult or impossible to control.

Gwydion has always had a talent for seeing exactly what his opponent thought or desired. He studied his fellow human beings far more dearly and attentively than the documents which had been submitted to him for studying. Even his cunning brother Gilfaethwy had other things in mind than to study and was not sorry to drive his teachers with pranks to insanity, while only their sister Aranrhod devoted herself grateful to the lessons. Unfortunately, she was the least blessed with intelligence, so her teacher always had a hard time inspiring the three for the lessons and keeping them in a good mood.

It had always been common knowledge that, above all, the fairy folk were inclined to excessiveness and not to scholarship, something about which Math, king of Gwynedd and uncle of the three siblings, desperately wanted to do something. His nephews, so he had promised his sister Dôn, should once become great rulers and understand something of their craft and the history of their people. Just as his niece was to become a respected and educated woman by the side of a wealthy man.

But over the years, not much changed in the circumstances. Gideon and Gilfaethwy grew up to be handsome men, who roamed the country in the name of their uncle, respecting law and order, while Aranrhod spent her time at the court, secretly making love to one of the servants. However, the two men often understood something different under 'law and order' than the old gentleman had thought. They took whatever they liked, drank, and scuffled with the compatriots, leaving mostly annoyance and fear in the villages, because if anyone ever opposed them, then Gwydion insisted to brag about the magical powers he had discovered during his youth. Math, who was tied to the court at that time thanks to an old curse, unless a war was declared, got none of this.

One day, Gwydion and Gilfaethwy had just returned from the south and sat at the table at court, Gwydion nudged his brother, who was looking sicker and sicker for the last few days. He knew him too well to understand that this wasn’t a physical ailment, but something else.

“Boy, what's wrong with you?”

“Why? What do you see in me?”

“I see that you lose your good looks and your facial color. So what's wrong with you?”

“My dear brother, it won’t do me any good if I admit to anyone what is wrong with me.”

“What is it, my friend?”

“You know Math’s special trait that every word, as soon as it is spoken, is carried to him by the wind.”

“Well, then don’t say anything else. I know what it is: you want Goerwin.”

Gilfaethwy sighed deeply and lowered his eyes.

“Don’t sigh, that won't help you get her” Gwydion put a hand on his shoulder and smiled reassuringly, the famous sparkle that bespoke a new plan appeared in his eyes.

“I'll ensure you that she's going to be yours. Be it Gwynedd, Powys and Deheubarth got to war for it.”

And that was how it came that Gwydion cheated Math into believing that he could bring him a new breed of animals that the Lord of Powys, Prideri, son of Pwylls had been given a few days ago. Gwydion and Gilfaethwy traveled to the Court of Powys, veiled by a spell, and in turn had Prideri persuaded to close a bargain, tempting him to swap the animals for enchanted goods, revealing themselves worthless the next day and infuriating the entire court of Powys. Prideri knew immediately who had to be responsible because no one else in the country had the impudence and the power to give him the runaround like Gwydion had done. Thereupon Prideri had his whole army saddled up and called for war against Gwynedd. Math was forced to leave the yard and leave Goerwin at the court.

This was the moment the men had been waiting for: they sneaked back to the yard, Gilfaethwy took Goerwin, and Gwydion took pleasure in her maid, and there was no one who couldn’t get wind of it, but no one dared to intervene for fear.

The next day they hurried to the front of the war, where dozens of men had fallen until Prideri and Gwydion finally decided on a duel to spare the rest of the men. The ground under their feet was already soaked in blood, making smacking noises as they steeled themselves for battle. It was clear that Prideri didn’t have many chances against the mighty Druid, as they once entitled him. And Gwydion knew that as well. A confident smile crept to his lips as the blades collided, and he sneered at his counterpart.

As expected, Gwydion defeated Prideri, and so his land went into the possession of the Mabinogi. The country was in mourning and Math was angry with his nephew when he heard from Goerwin what had been the cause of all the deaths. He sent for the men and let his full wrath on them. A thunderstorm was still to be heard up to the gates and across the sea to Ynys Môn.

“What pain and what shame have you brought over our house? Only for your insatiable craving for the female flesh you have claimed hundreds of men’s lives! Like the beasts without reason and understanding you have acted, as beasts, you shall live henceforth and satisfy your lust!”

Math rose from his throne, and before one of them could oppose him, he turned Gilfaethwy into a hind and Gwydion into a stag. “Go out and live in this form, with the desires of the animals. You are to father a progeny and you will bring it back here in a year’s time!"

A greater humiliation could have befallen neither of them, and since Math was one of the most powerful druids in the area and none of them could do anything about it in their present form, they followed and went out into the forest, where they spent a year as a stag and a hind, and returned the following year with a fawn, which Math took, turned it into a boy, and baptized it. Gilfaethwy and Gwydion were still not released from their punishment, Math was still angry with them and so he turned the hind into a boar and the deer into a wild sow so that they performed the ritual again and return in the coming year with a shoat which Math also took. But still, the anger was not extinguished and he turned them again: The boar became the she-wolf and the wild sow the wolf.

When they returned with the wolf cub the following year, Math finally released them from their shame and turned the men back into their human form. Humble, they were shown to their three sons, but inside the anger was smoldering stronger than ever and Gwydion had made it his goal to wreak revenge on his uncle one day. But first, it was up to them to help Math find a new maiden. They suggested Aranrhod, who still claimed to be one, but when Math tested her, the opposite was true: she gave birth to two sons, one of whom was so inconspicuous that Gwydion pulled him aside unnoticed and secretly raised him up. Aranrhod was so humiliated that she denied maternity and even forgot her second son.

Gwydion couldn’t understand why she was so curt with the children, he wished for himself that he could’ve seen his sons grow up. So he cared for the nameless boy until he had become a handsome man before he showed him to his mother, who still wanted to know nothing about him and cursed him. The boy was disappointed and Gwydion didn’t want to let this happen. He loved the child as much as his own son, and once again consulted his talent to trick his sister into giving the boy a deserved reputation.

After all, Lleu Llaw Gyffes, with the help of his uncle, had gotten everything that a son of the court deserved: weapons, money, property, and a beautiful woman. But she did not remain faithful to him, cheated on him with the Lord of another Cantrefi, and Gwydion helped Lleu to avenge him on both until one could rightfully call the property his own.

Gwydion had waited up to that point, now it was time to take his own revenge and get rid of Math. With the help of his brother, he lured Math into a trap from which he could no longer free himself. In any case, the fairy was far too old for his taste, and Lleu a much better ruler. He himself had no intentions to ascend the throne, so he let his foster son rule over Gwynedd. Aranrhod had also caught up with her fate and she died of an by that time incurable disease without giving birth to another child as a successor. Her firstborn had also died at the hand of another man, leaving Lleu the last rightful heir to the throne.

After Lleu was finally crowned and Gilfeathwy remained at court as his advisor, Gwydion decided to leave the country and travel because his help was no longer needed. He was convinced that the world had more to offer and so he toured countless countries in the East. He did not want to stay in Cymrw (Wales), where he was known everywhere, the infamous druid! Here suffering, there an emergency. They always wanted something from him and asked him for a favor. And he didn’t fit a throne. It wasn’t easy as a descendant of Túatha Dé Danann. Worry was one of the few goods that people never seemed to run out off.

Gwydion traveled far and much. But he visited a few places again and again because he had fallen in love with the people and their ways of living. These included, among other things, a minor village in Hungary, in the south of Lake Balaton, and Bydgoszcz in northeastern Poland. Later, however, he was drawn north again: a half-dilapidated village on the southeastern shore of Lough Corrib in Ireland was the last stop he had made. However, one should not think that these places were chosen solely because of the environment and the population, no, rather it was a secret brotherhood, whose original members could be traced back to these places.

In his search, he had met with like-minded people in these places, who also expected more from the world than it seemed to offer. They wanted to explore the secrets that frightened mankind due to superstition and they did what they wanted. Laws never mattered. It serves one right who does wrong, which meant more to the four than anything that some gentleman had written on their papers.

Gwydion lived with his friends in the lap of luxury, as you might say, but it always drew the attention of jealous fellow citizens or the suspicious authorities to them. Fighting broke out and not often it ended in a squad standing in front of his house, which wanted to arrest him. But Gideon was famous for his sharp wit and masterful rhetoric. Often they could be fobbed off or deceived by magic. But if that didn’t help, he preferred to play off the lords and kings against each other, so they disposed of themselves.

But not only hostile-minded ones frequented Gwydion and his friends. Even those who were of his kind, as they said, wanted to belong to him and his brothers. It all started when he was back in Hungary and was greeted by a dozen of people instead of only his friend, who revealed to him that with the help of their powers, he had managed to come a bit further in their research. Gwydion was very upset at first, for they had actually sworn to keep silent, but when he saw that his friend was serious, he condoned the work. And so the other brothers followed soon as well. Especially in Ireland a big community and new rites awaited him.

“Who are all those people?” He asked, turning to Áernóch. “There was nothing of the sort in your last letter! We’re not the welfare or any coven, my friend.”

“Gideon, please!” He struggled to get his discovery across to him.

“These men come from another coven whose founders have delivered a great battle. All of Galway had been shaken by it!”

Now Gwydion listened as well with rapt attention.

“Whole Galway, you say?” His gaze swept toward the crowd of black-robed figures. He stepped up to one of them and planted himself in front of him.

"Look at me and tell me, what's your name?"

“Múhnaí, sir,” he replied, raising his head so that light fell on his pale features, bringing out the sunken cheeks.

“And tell me, Múhnaí, how is it that you and your brothers stand here and not with your Master?” He leaned forward, his hands clasped behind his back. “After all, I don’t want to know any apostates under my protection.”

His threatening attitude didn’t unsettle Múhnaí. After all, he was used to nothing else by his last masters.

“Lord, with good grace, but none of our masters is alive anymore, they both fell and the connection was lost, we searched, but the innermost ones must have disappeared with the corpses, they left us behind.” Múhnaí fell silent. Surely he wouldn’t beg or anything like that, but he very much hoped that he would be accepted, for what he had heard behind closed doors about the Brotherhood was no less tempting than the secrets that had been decided in his coven.

Gwydion also remained silent and straightened up again to full stature. Thoughtfully, he went back to Áernóch, but he kept the group in view out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t quite trust the whole thing. First, he wanted to put the men to the test, not that they went after him and subsequently delivered him to the supposedly disbanded coven.

“Ah, yes, I still have a question: what are the names of your masters?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Lord, we don’t know that, only the innermost have known this.”

“I see, what a pity. I would have loved to know more about them, but you can’t probably tell me more, now go away. I have more important things to do.” A derogatory hand movement followed and the men hurriedly followed, nobody was keen to detune the mind of the potential leader in advance.

Áernóch waited until his friend and he were alone before he spoke. He already felt that the mind of his counterpart was boiling inside, but on the outside, he couldn’t see any emotion. He played the perfect façade, perfection learned over centuries.

“Gywdyon,” he used the name only when they were among themselves, otherwise that would only have led to problems of understanding and unintentional investigation, “let me ...” He was silenced with a sinister piercing look. Okay, maybe he should now watch what he was saying.

The next moment Gwydion pushed him against the wall and pressed his hand at Áernóch’s throat.

“I think, my friend, I should refresh your memories of the Code a little, what do you think?” A vicious glint flared up in Gwydion’s eyes, clearly showing how close he was to the edge of losing his mind. Áernóch grabbed Gwydion’s hand, choking and trying to free himself from his grip, but it had been superhuman forces that were in play. “Please,” he pleaded in his thoughts and let his partner overhear, “I know the Code, but these men strive for the same goal, and the more they are, the greater we may accomplish. If I had told you about them, you would have rejected them from the beginning, you know that!”

The power of the voice subsided and Gwydion felt life gradually leave Áernóch. Therefore, he loosened his grip, but only so much that Áernóch could gasp. He then raised his free hand and pressed it to Áernóch’s right half of face, so he started screaming and writhing in pain. The smell of burned flesh came up and Gwydion pulled his hand back. Satisfied, he looked at his work:

Áernóch was now branded with a secret sign that was to be recognized only by members of the Brotherhood as a sword rune. For others, it only seemed like a burning mark by a fireplace poker.

Áernóch fell to his knees in pain, holding his face and moaning. Gwydion showed no sympathy but looked down spitefully at his friend.

“For now, let this be a lesson to you, Áernóch, and now get up, we have a lot to talk about.” He held out his hand to help him get back on his feet. Áernóch reached for it after some hesitation. He knew that Gwydion wanted to teach him just a lesson. He didn’t take pleasure in any further glee. Still, it had been a violent shock that he was sure not to forget so soon.

After a lengthy discussion, Gwydion decided he would actually give the men a chance to prove themselves. But they should also show him their new loyalty and their skills. Whether they shared his beliefs, then it would turn out. But in his opinion, people were just a mendacious pack anyway, with no sense of honor or respect for their world. Therefore, he did not expect too much from these people. Maybe they would do well as guinea pigs if he was lucky.

And now, centuries later, sitting in his small apartment, in a strange land, he stared at the sea and still commanded these idiots - at least those who had not proved utterly useless while he was so close to his destination. One of the two formerly believed coven masters, who were apparently resurrected from the dead with the help of his descendants! These damned fairies, they kept babbling, but then, when he wanted to know something decisive, they remained silent. He growled low and looked at his phone, which was muttering at that moment. Another call. Áernóch. Gwydion sighed and answered it, how much he wished at that moment to drink a Guinness with his faithful follower ... just for the good old days.

#original story #original fiction #background story #welsh #welsh witch #celtic #celtic mythology #irish mythology #mabinogi #mabinogium

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