A Moment in Time

'Dearling,' he murmured against her ear. 'I will never cease to love you. Ever!'

The mauve mists swirled suddenly about them. A raven cried in the sky above. Remember! The sensation of his arms was gone, and she heard a voice calling her once more.

'Rhiannon!' It was Angharad's voice.

'Rhiannon, my daughter.' It was her father who now spoke to her.

The mists cleared and she found herself in her father's hall, her family about her, looking unhappy and disturbed.

'Oh, Rhiannon! How could you do this to me! I do not want to be queen of the Fair Folk! Really, I do not!' Angharad protested. She rubbed the pale pink silk of her gown between her thumb and her forefinger as she was wont to do whenever she was distressed.

'You are the perfect choice, Angharad, though you be young,' Rhiannon soothed her sibling. 'You will be a great queen one day. I know it, and I will be so proud of you.'

In an uncustomary burst of emotion, Angharad threw herself into her sister's arms and sniffled. 'Don't leave us, Rhiannon! I beg you do not leave us! I fear for your safety amongst the Cymri. Though some like Pwyll accept us, most do not. No matter how hard you try, you will always be a stranger among them. An object of curiosity and suspicion.'

'Nothing matters to me,' Rhiannon replied, 'but that I be Pwyll's wife and the mother of his children, dearest little sister. I know that this all came as a shock to you, but you are simply not used to the idea yet. It has been assumed our whole lives that I should one day follow our father as ruler of the Fair Folk of this forest, but it is not to be. I always believed that my fate lay elsewhere.'

'I do not want to be queen because I do not want all the responsibility that goes with it,' Angharad said petulantly and with perfect logic. 'To be Trystan's wife and the mother of our children is the only fate I desire.'

Rhiannon laughed merrily. 'It would never be enough for you, Angharad, and in your heart you know I speak the truth. You are one of those creatures who was born to mother the world. Our people will one day thrive under your rule. As for your Trystan,' and Rhiannon chuckled, 'he is so proud of you that if he does not dissolve in a burst of pure happiness, I shall be quite surprised.'

Angharad could not resist a smile at her sister's words. It was true. Trystan was more than proud of her. He was adoring, and he had begun to fret that perhaps he was not a fit husband for a future queen of the Fair Folk. It would take all her powers of persuasion to soothe his fears, but soothe him she would, for she loved him, which surprised many. Like all races, the Fair Folk had their share of those who were wise and those who were not so wise. Trystan fit into this latter category, but Angharad knew what others did not. She knew that her beloved was kind and loyal and true. And he had a most marvelous sense of humor. Nonetheless, it seemed disloyal to her entire family, she thought, to take Rhiannon's place. 'For all your words, sister,' she finally said, 'I am not happy with this decision you have made. To be queen of the Fair Folk will not be an easy thing.'

'It is your duty now, my sibling,' replied Rhiannon in that quiet voice of hers which all knew meant the discussion was ended. 'The council has agreed, and so have all our people. Oh, Angharad! You are really far better suited to this office than I ever was. You are strong and sure in your ways. I am a risk taker who would follow her heart. No queen of the Fair Folk should be that way.'

Now it was the sisters' mother, Cornelia, who spoke up. 'Why can you simply not take the Cymri as a lover?' she asked her daughter. 'That is what our people have done in the past. Why must you wed him and give up everything?' Her beautiful face showed great concern.

'Nay,' Rhiannon said. 'That is not what either of us wants. I would be Pwyll's wife, and, for our marriage to succeed, we must be as one. There is no way in which Pwyll can be a part of our world, but I can become a part of his world. Dearest Mother! You must be happy for me, for this is what I want most in all the world.'

Cornelia's lovely violet eyes filled with quick tears. Rhiannon was her eldest child. Although she would not have admitted it aloud lest it be considered a betrayal of her darling Angharad, she did love Rhiannon best. She could not help it. The girl was so as she had once been. A romantic who believed the best of everyone. In the world in which the Fair Folk lived, that was not such a dangerous belief; but in the world of the Cymri…

Cornelia sighed deeply. Why, she wondered, had her elder daughter fallen in love with Pwyll of Dyfed? There was not an eligible man in their world who would not have given all he possessed and more for Rhiannon's hand in marriage. She might have been the daughter of the humblest of them, and she would have still been prized above all others. There was Gavin, Prince of the Fair Folk of the River Wye; the twin warrior princes, Cadawg and Cad-el, who came from her own island home in the West; and most distinguished of all, young King Meredydd, who ruled over the Fair Folk in the Southeast, whose kingdom might have been joined with theirs. He would be the most disappointed of all. Why could Rhiannon not have chosen amongst her own kind; but alas, she had not. Helplessly Cornelia turned to her husband for support.

Dylan shook his head. 'We have argued over this problem like an old dog that continues to gnaw upon a bone for marrow long gone,' he told her sadly. 'Rhiannon has made it quite clear that she will have Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed, a Cymri, for her husband, and no other. She has convinced both the council and our people of her intent. They have chosen Angharad to take her place as my successor. So be it.'

He smiled at his younger daughter. 'Though you protest this decision, Angharad, you already show a wisdom that will lead our people one day by your choice of your husband. Tell, Trystan that we will celebrate your marriage to one another at the next full moon. I fully approve. I grow weary of my royal burden. I would pass my authority on to you within the next few years, that I may enjoy the remainder of my years in freedom and peace as my own father did. It is settled,' he concluded, patting his wife's hand.

A tear slipped down Cornelia's cheek, which Rhiannon kissed away, even as Angharad's eyes met those of her father in agreement and acceptance.

At the next full moon the marriage of Angharad and Trystan was celebrated with much happiness by both their families. Trystan was a younger son of a powerful family from the Northeast. And at the wedding feast Rhiannon's four rejected suitors each attempted to claim her and override her decision, but she stood firm in her intent, to their great disappointment. Meredydd of the Southeast was particularly angry. Bitterly he took his leave of Rhiannon, saying, 'The Cymri lord will certainly prove himself unworthy of you. They are a cruel face.' Then he departed.

Dylan arose and said, 'At the next full waxing of our sister, the moon, the Cymri year that Rhiannon gave her beloved is concluded. She will go to meet him and bring him to us, that we may celebrate their marriage. There is one condition to my acceptance of this match which they must both fulfill else I withdraw my permission. If either of them should refuse, there will be no marriage between them. Though it is your right, Rhiannon, to choose your own mate, it is my right as your king to forbid this match should my conditions not be met. That is also a part of our ancient law, and you must abide by it.'

'What would you have of us, Father?' Rhiannon asked.

'I will not discuss it with you until Pwyll stands before me by your side, my daughter,' King Dylan said with finality.

On the first morning of the next full moon, even as the sun was tinting the horizon with its arrival, Pwyll, prince of Dyfed, in his scarlet and gold wedding finery, arrived at the grassy green mound where he had first beheld Rhiannon. She was awaiting him with a warm smile of welcome, and happiness radiated from her very being at the sight of him. 'Welcome, my beloved!' she greeted him, and then she smiled at the party of gaily clad gentlemen who accompanied the prince. 'I bid you welcome also, my lords.'

Those who had seen her before were again struck by her rare and flawless beauty, and those who had not seen her before were rendered dumb with their amazement, for they would not have believed so fair a creature actually existed. She seemed to be garbed in spun moonlight. When Pwyll had returned from his private meeting with Rhiannon a year ago to announce his marriage plans, there had been a terrible uproar in the council chamber of Dyfed. Some thought the prince bewitched by the maiden of the Fair Folk. They cried their outrage over the matter; but Pwyll calmed them. He was not bewitched. He was simply in love. Those who knew him best understood this and kept their peace, although it fretted them that their prince would wed with an outsider.

Cynbel of Teifi, however, was enraged by Pwyll's news and had to be restrained by those around him. Though