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The Trickster
The Gardener
Three pairs of bright eyes watch, enraptured, as he turns the storybook page. "...and so, after hearing his prophecy, the Trickster distracted Prince Pryderi with a kiss and switched the pebbles back out with the rings the pouch originally held." All three children gasp, the twins wrapping their arms about each other in excitement. "For Gwydion had learned in that cave that although he would break a throne, he could grow a flourishing kingdom with fine souls such as the Huntress Branwen and the Prince Pryderi at his side... and not one of them needed a throne to do so. He became Gwydion the Gardener from that moment forth, and worked hard alongside the Huntress and the Prince to win the Wild Hunt and earn the boon he would use to change the land."
"To unite the kingdoms!" The oldest child of three pipes up, sitting up straighter. One eye ice blue, and the other a bright gold in a face with skin as dark as his own.
The councilor arches an eyebrow down at his children over the top of the book. "Are you telling the story, or am I?"
"You are," the oldest has the decency to offer an apologetic smile, at least.
"All the fun parts are over by now!" The twins wear matching pouts. "Everyone lived happily ever after, the end. Boring!"
Councilor Gwydion of Gwynedd, son of Dôn heaves an exaggerated sigh, closes the book, and set it aside. "Oh, I don't know. I thought averting certain doom for three kingdoms single-handedly was rather interesting, but what do I know."
"Single-handedly?" A new voice echoes from the doorway behind Gwydion, sounding amused. "That's not how I remember it. What about you, darling?"
Gwydion cranes his neck to smirk back at his wife, Councilor Branwen of the hunters. She is still as sharply beautiful as he remembers her being at the age she is described in the storybook he reads to their children.
"Nor I, my heart," agrees Councilor Pryderi of Dyfed, one arm wrapped around Branwen's shoulder, and the other offering a hand to help Gwydion to his feet. "But our husband does so enjoy embellishing his tales."
Gwydion snorts and stands, gripping Pryderi's hand to haul himself up, before wiggling his hand with his two braced fingers. "Hello, my part was largely single-handed. That counts for something, does it not?" He leans in to kiss first his husband in greeting, then his wife. Both smile warmly at him, if with more than a hint of exasperated fondness. A meow of protest comes from below, and Gwydion sighs, bending low to scoop Palug up from where the cat rubs against Pryderi's boot and plant a kiss on top of his head as well. "There. Can't leave you out, can we, little monster?" He releases the cat as Palug issues a self-satisfied mrow and begins to squirm. Gwydion watches the children bound to their feed and surround Palug, who purrs loudly at all the attention and pets, his proper due.
With their children safe in Palug's care, Branwen pulls her husbands further down the hallway with a hand on each of their wrists, smirking at them both over her shoulder. "Come along, while they're distracted. We have a hunt to complete before the dawn."
"Do we?" Gwydion chuckles, exchanging an amused look with Pryderi, who merely shrugs good-naturedly. "And what is our prey this fine evening, my Lady Huntress?"
"And why should I ruin the surprise?" Branwen demands, with a mirthful glint in her uncovered blue eye.
"As our wife desires," Pryderi hums, reaching over to wrap an arm around Gwydion's shoulder as they are both pulled along. "Thank you for reading to the children tonight, Gwydion."
"But of course, my love. You know how I do love spinning a good tale."
Ten years after the final Wild Hunt, Branwen leads her husbands and fellow councilors to their prey - a candlelit dinner tucked safely in a wicker basket on a checkered blanket in the meadow behind the castell. Fireflies dance in the evening air, no doubt lured by the exceptional care Gwydion takes of the space, formerly his mother's meadow in the land once known as Gwynedd. They are far from alone here, joined by other councilors and their families as well as castell staff who work during the daylight hours and their families. Enjoying dinner in the meadow is a common pastime for those who spend their days laboring away inside the castle to ensure the joined kingdoms of Gwynedd, Dyfed, and Annwvyn prosper and thrive together. None present, had they known Gwydion a decade prior, would have expected him to use his Wild Hunt boon to join the kingdoms in such a way - and abolish the monarchies of all three kingdoms besides.
Branwen settles in her usual spot closest to the castell, opening the basket and displaying its contents proudly to her husbands. "Mam and I baked pies after this morning's Council meeting. She'll be sharing the other one with the kids soon."
"If they're not stale, I suppose pies are alright," Gwydion heaves a dramatic sigh and takes his own seat beside Branwen more slowly, his joints popping in protest as he settles. His dividing still drains him, but Gwydion is much more careful with himself these days than he was during the Wild Hunt, mostly at his spouses' insistence.
"Pie will make for a wonderful desert, thank you, my heart." Pryderi's ocean blue eyes light up, and he kneels down to kiss Branwen gratefully before joining his spouses on the blanket, lifting the pie up and out of the basket and setting it to the side. "What flavor is it?"
"Blackberry," Branwen's eyes dance with mirth as she glances over at Gwydion knowingly. "Since a certain husband of ours keeps so many of them on the grounds."
Gwydion shrugs unapologetically. "In case of danger. One never knows. You two certainly weren't complaining during the Hunt."
"We never need fear a Hunt again," Branwen reminds Gwydion, leaning over to capture Pryderi's mouth in a kiss. "Thanks to Pryderi's clever boon. The only hunting in these lands will be out of strictest necessity, and never again with prey of humans or the otherfolk."
Gwydion rolls his eyes, but he places a hand on Pryderi's knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Indeed. Not that we haven't earned more than our fair share of people who would do us harm for those very boons."
Branwen smirks, pulling Gwydion into the kiss by the back of his neck. "You two, maybe. My boon merely cured my Mam."
"True," Pryderi sighs. "Our wife abandons us to our fate. What is the saying? No good deed goes unpunished?"
"I imagine she would feel more conflicted about that were you not the best fighter of our age, and were I not able to weaponize the plants that help our kingdom thrive," Gwydion remarks dryly. "Though of course, all we need do is remain close enough to the children, and Branwen would protect us anyway."
Branwen hums thoughtfully, withdrawing covered bowls and plates from the basket and settling them between her two husbands. "I don't know. Rhain has started training with daggers already. I reckon they could protect themselves and the twins if they had to. And Palug would never let anything happen to any of them."
"Have the great truly fallen so low? None to protect us, the saviors of three lands?" Gwydion fakes a faint, ending up with his head in Pryderi's lap, who laughs.
"Someone is going to have to protect you from me if you ruin any of that food, Gwydion the Gardener," Branwen warns him, tugging Gwydion back up and pushing him into his seated position once more. "Come now. Let us eat, settle the children down to sleep, and then we can have a little fun before bed." She doesn't hesitate to tear a hunk out of the loaf of bread set between them.
Gwydion snorts, but his cheeks flush faintly and he does settle in to begin eating, eager for a reason that has nothing to do with food now.
Pryderi wears a knowing smirk as he takes the loaf after Branwen and tears a hunk off. "You want to incense Amaethon again at tomorrow morning's Council meeting, don't you?"
Branwen's icy blue eye sparkles with mischief in the candlelight. "Perhaps. Although why are grown man should grow so irate at the sight of such small lovebites is beyond me."
"I love you both," Gwydion sighs happily, leaning over to kiss Pryderi first, then Branwen. "Never change. Do you reckon if I limped in I could give him a heart attack?"
The three councilors laugh in unison before beginning to eat in earnest, recounting to each other the occurrences of their days working for the kingdom. All is well.