Topic: A New Trip Planned

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2016-07-24 01:17 EST
Life for the Champion and Priestess of Avalon often seemed to move in fits and starts. Though most of their time was spent with their daughter, every now and then, some mission would crop up that it was believed only they could handle. In the wake of Ana's second birthday, the Bristols had received new instructions from Avalon, and this time, Nat had put her foot down. She was tired of leaving their daughter behind, and this wasn't going to be a dangerous mission. Ana was going with them.

"Oh, stop pouting, dusha moya," she told Rhys as she packed Ana's bag. The toddler was already in bed, delighted with the chance to sleep in their house in Glastonbury for once. "You will get to drive the Mustang for at least ten days, perhaps more. Ireland is a beautiful place, so I am told, and we have not had a family holiday yet, anyway."

Rhys had never been able to honestly decide where he felt more at home - in Brooklyn, where they were close to their friends; in Avalon where they were revered as Champion and Priestess; or in Glastonbury, where they could enjoy the solitude of being on their own. For Rhys, it was never so much about the place so much as who he was with, and so long as he was with Nat, the location didn't much matter.

"I'm not pouting," he pointed out, though he clearly was, but it wasn't so much about the prospect of a trip that bothered him as it was that they'd hardly had time to catch their breath upon their arrival before they were off again. He folded yet another shirt that looked almost like the last one into his suitcase. "We hardly had a chance to unpack!" he pointed out, a little too vehemently. "And I know what you're doing there. You're trying to tempt me with the Mustang," he said, waggling a finger at her.

"Don't try to pretend that it isn't working," she laughed back at him, catching his finger to kiss the tip gently. "There's nothing dangerous about this trip, milaya. We are simply going to visit four of the six Royal Sites of Ireland, and collect a few treasures while we're enjoying ourselves. It is as simple as that."

He couldn't help smiling a little as she caught his hand and kissed his finger. Of all the women he'd ever known - and there had been quite a few - she was the only one who seemed to know how to soothe him. It wasn't all that hard, really. All he required was a little TLC. Despite his smile, he snorted at her remark. "It's never as simple as all that, Nat. If it was, the treasures would be gone by now."

"But Avalon has never reached out for them before now," she pointed out, zipping up Ana's bag before continuing. "Do you know anything about the four treasures of the Tuatha De Danann, Rhys?" she asked him gently. "About what they are, and where they came from?"

"Why not?" he asked, ever curious about what made Avalon tick, despite being the Lady's Champion. Why were some items recovered while others were left where they were" Was there some kind of danger of them falling into the wrong hands, and if so, why now and not before" As soon as she mentioned the reason for this quest, he froze in mid-fold of a shirt and shot a look over at her. "The what?"

"Avalon doesn't feel the need to gather everything at once," she shrugged lightly, moving to pack her own bag now. "It is only when an object's power is being felt in the world again that Avalon will seek it out." She paused, looking over at him with a curious frown for his reaction. "The treasures of the Tuatha De Danann," she repeated. "What is it?"

He furrowed his brows, his expression darkening, for some seemingly inexplicable reason. "Is someone else looking for it?" he asked, more out of concern than curiosity. He knew what the treasures of the Tuatha De Danann were, and had known long before he met her.

She shook her head. "No, not yet," she told him. "The sword is beginning to make its presence felt, and unfortunately, the region in which it is concealed is highly volatile. They have only recently begun to calm some of the conflict between the disparate parts of their society, and the sword's call has the chance to reignite those conflicts again. But, in order to collect the sword, we need to collect the stone, the cauldron, and the spear first."

"Of course we do," he murmured irritably, though it was unclear why he was upset. After all, they'd gone after plenty of treasures before and if anything, he'd been eager to do so. Why was it different this time" "Why would the sword make its presence felt now?" he wondered aloud. At the time when it had been needed, no one seemed to have known where it was.

"No one knows for certain, but Yves has a theory," Nat said gently, sensing that this subject was a sore one for her husband, though she didn't quite know why. "He believes that with all the political unrest in the world, and in this region of the world, the sword is responding to the possibility that Ireland may have to fight for itself. It is a sword, it does not recognize that words can be used to fight just as effectively."

"Yeah, well, we can't risk that sword getting into the wrong hands," he said, feeling just a little sense of deja vu as he said it. He'd had nearly this same conversation once before with someone else under different circumstances. "I don't know much about the other three treasures. I know the spear makes you invincible or something?"

"Well, so long as you hold the spear, no one will ever beat you in battle," Nat explained. "It's a protection talisman, essentially, and Yves believes that the spear is necessary in order to collect the sword without being taken over by it. The cauldron is linked in mythology to the Dagda, and it is like the Horn of Plenty, or the Cornucopia. The legends say that no one ever went away from it unsatisfied, and it is generally accepted that it must have provided food and drink. And the stone ....well, the Lia Fail is the heart of the land, you might say. It was said to cry out when the king took sovereignty of the land, and when it did not do so for one king's chosen heir, he raised his sword and tried to split it in two in his anger. We know exactly where the Lia Fail is, so that is where we will start."

"Might have been handy to have when I was fighting Abaddon," he remarked, his thoughts circling back to what had arguably been the single most important conflict in his entire life. "We were looking for the sword before ..." He trailed off. Before what? Before everything had gone to hell. Before he'd crashed his car and lost his memory; before Riley had almost been killed and lost their baby; before David and John had died. Before he'd ended up in Rhy'Din. Before his whole life had changed. He had no regrets about how things had turned out. He'd come to terms with it a long time ago and given the chance, he wouldn't change a thing, but the thought of going after that same sword gave him a bad feeling inside.

Ah. Nat felt comprehension dawn. So this was about Her. She took a moment to swallow the instant anger that rose whenever she thought of the woman who had contributed so much to breaking Rhys before ever they had met, and took a deep breath instead. "You did not have access to Avalon's knowledge and resources then," she reminded him gently.

"I didn't know about the angel sword, either. I didn't find out about that until later. We thought the sword ....What's it called again?" he asked, not quite recalling the name of it, though he knew every mythical treasure throughout the ages was known by one name or another. He had another sword at his beck and call these days, and he felt no reason to possess another.

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2016-07-24 01:18 EST
"It's known by many different names, but the two most recognized are the Cla"omh Solais, and Nuadu's Sword," she told him, confident in this, at least. She hadn't done the research this time, but Yves was hardly ever wrong.

"Right, Nuadu," he said, echoing the word, which was more than a little clumsy on his American tongue. He folded the last of his shirts and closed the suitcase, unsure how much he should tell her or how much she might know already from sources other than himself.

Leaving her own bag unfinished, she moved over to him, drawing him down to sit with her on the bed. "Are you going to tell me?" she asked quietly. "You're familiar with the objects we are going after, and the sword most of all. You've hunted it before. Where did your hunt take you, that you failed to find it?"

He sat down beside her, his fingers linked with hers, needing to maintain that connection. He shrugged in reply to her question. "It didn't take us anywhere. It was probably just a bunch of bullshit we were being fed by the ....the Fae."

Natalya frowned. She had never encountered any Fae, or faery creatures, though it was likely the latter would not be true by the time they returned here from Ireland. "Talk to me, Rhys," she told him. "Some things cannot be swept aside. You need to tell me what you know. It might help us."

"It's all confusing, Nat. It was before I lost my memory, and sometimes I wonder if I didn't get it all back," he confessed. His life had taken more than its fair share of twists and turns, and sometimes it was hard trying to keep it all straight in his head. "I don't know anything. I just know we were led to believe the Sword of ....of Nuadu ....was the sword that would defeat the demons. Obviously, that was a lie. Maybe it would have defeated Abaddon, but how do you control something like that' Can you imagine what might have happened if we'd found it?"

"Unimaginable war and destruction, and at the end of it, the only one standing would have been the one holding the sword," she said in a measured tone. "Perhaps Nuadu could control it, when it was fresh forged, but we are not Tuatha De Danann. We are mortal, and we should not expect to control a force that was bound to a blade millenia ago. That is why Avalon has decided to bring it within the Lady's power."

"So, whoever was trying to manipulate us into finding the sword probably wanted it for their own purposes," he deduced, though he'd known that already. He'd never mentioned the sword before, not to the Lady or to Natalya, believing what he'd been told about it was false.

"Or simply wanted to unleash chaos," Nat agreed, stroking his hand between her own as they spoke. "It could even have been Abaddon, seeking to distract you. Distraction and manipulation was his way."

"No, it was the Fae," he said, remembering at least enough about that time to know it wasn't just the demons he'd considered enemies. "There were too many factions vying for power," he told her. "You know, I haven't had any problems from the Fae since we broke up." He shook his head, which often felt full of muck when he tried to sort out those years of his life.

"Well, I am told that the Fae make mischief for mischief's sake," she mused. "Besides, we know a little Fae, don't we" Bethany's cousin, Lyneth. And don't try to tell me she doesn't have you wrapped around her little finger. She had you from the moment you shared your fries with her when Bethany and Jason moved in."

"They were in alliance with the demons. Whatever happened, all I can say is good riddance." He arched a brow at the mention of Lyneth. "Yeah, but she's not only harmless, she's only half-Fae. I wonder sometimes if ....This is gonna sound crazy, but I think it had something to do with ....with Patrick," he said, reluctant to name the son Riley had lost to the demons. He'd hardly had much of a chance in the world.

"What do you mean?" Nat asked softly. She knew about Patrick; Adam had made a point of making sure she knew, because he'd been certain Rhys would never be able to tell her himself. "That the Fae took him?"

"No, they didn't take him. They ....they ended his life, Nat," Rhys said, unable to explain in plainer terms. There was still a place in his heart that grieved for his little boy, but the Lady had assured him he and Nat would have a son of their own one day to take his place. "I didn't know until later. I didn't remember anything after the accident. I couldn't even remember my own name." Of course, none of it had been an accident. Rhys had learned later that the demons had orchestrated the whole thing.

She curled her arms about him, a part of her heart grieving with him for the loss of his first son. And just for a moment, Avalon heard them. Their link to The Lady through the pendants they wore was strong enough that she reached out through the mists to soothe that pain. For the briefest moment, they were not sitting alone on the bed, but out in a warm meadow beneath the sunshine, lying side by side on a blanket as around them their children played. Ana was there, older and just as cheeky, and with her were the promised sons that would come after, playing together for the amusement of their parents.

Nat smiled as the vision faded, brushing her lips to Rhys' cheek. "One day," she murmured to him, "it will not hurt so much to remember."

He drew comfort from that vision, knowing they were under The Lady's protection and that she would be sure their future was a bright one, and yet, the thought of Patrick always left him feeling a little sad. "I know," he replied, a faint smile on his face. "And I know how important it is that the sword not get into the wrong hands. I'll be fine, Nat. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," he told her, a slightly guilty look on his face, though he'd had good reason. He didn't want any secrets between them, though this hadn't been that exactly. He simply didn't like talking about the past much, preferring to look to the future.

"Adam told me," she reassured him softly, stroking her fingers through his hair. "He believed I needed to know, and he asked me not to ask you about it unless you brought it up. He loves you like a brother, Rhys. But I promise you, there will be no demons on this journey, and no Fae. Faery creatures, perhaps, for Ireland has many of them. But no one will intend us harm."

He nodded his head, taking that in stride. He would have expected no less from this friend, and he was glad he had explained to her what he'd been unable to himself. "I just wish I knew why. I wish I knew what the point of it all was," he said, but then, if Patrick had lived, Rhys might have never met Natalya, and then Ana would never have been born. "I had a vision on the train to Lourdes," he told her, unsure if he'd told her that before either. "It was Patrick. He told me I'd see him again someday." He hadn't thought of that in some years, not since before he and Abaddon had finished each other at the top of the mountain.

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2016-07-24 01:19 EST
"Sometimes there is never a reason beyond pure malice," she told him softly, nestling close. "I promise you, dusha moya, there is no danger this time. And I am not pregnant yet." She smiled at him fondly. They both knew it would happen soon; Ana was of the right age now. "He said you would see him again? I wonder ....what color were Patrick's eyes, milaya""

"There had better not be any danger with Ana along!" Rhys exclaimed, with a short chuckle, trusting not only his wife's judgment but Avalon to keep them safe. Still, he knew the best laid plans could go awry, and one could never be too careful. He smiled at the mention of a second child - the son the Lady had promised them. Though Nat might not be pregnant yet, it was not from lack of trying. His expression turned thoughtful at her question, and he replied without hesitation. "They were green, like mine."

"Mmm." Her smile deepened, glad to know that his first son had not reflected the mother. She didn't think she could bear to see another woman's eyes looking at her from her own son's face. "Then perhaps, milaya, you should consider this. My brother was dead before your son was conceived. Though he never took breath, he promised you would see him again, just as my brother promised me that I would see him again. Heaven and earth and Avalon move in mysterious ways. Perhaps your Patrick and my Micah are the same being."

Rhys arched a brow, obviously not expecting what his wife was suggesting. "You think Micah ....but why would he do that' We weren't together yet. We hadn't even met yet," he said, clearly puzzled. The thought of Micah and Patrick being one and the same person was almost too hard to believe - and yet, Rhys knew that stranger things had been known to happen.

"Because The Lady had been watching you," she suggested gently. "I do not know, in truth. But it is a possibility, and it would bring both of us peace, would it not' Micah is the failure I cannot forgive myself for. Patrick is the loss you cannot come to terms with. They both hold a place very similar in our hearts."

"But how will we ever know for sure?" he asked, knowing The Lady was the key and always had been. The though of Micah and Patrick being one and the same, and returning to them somehow was almost too much to hope for. On the other hand, Rhys knew he would love all their children with his whole heart, no matter who they might have been in the past.

"We ask," Nat said simply, hugging him close for a long moment. "She has never denied us before, not when what we have asked has been so very close to our hearts." She kissed him tenderly, rising to her feet to finish packing her own bag. "We have a long drive tomorrow, from here to Fishguard, and then the boat journey. We should try and settle down at a decent time for once."

He drew an arm around her to hold her close, drawing comfort and strength from her closeness. They were far better together than apart; it was a lesson he'd had to learn the hard way, but learn it he had. He lingered in her kiss, knowing if he reciprocated too enthusiastically it would only detain them. "I know one sure fire way to put us both to sleep," he teased, waggling his brows at her playfully.

She laughed, swatting at him. "When we are packed," she told him, shaking her curly head at his teasing. "I only hope Joey is enjoying looking after Sasha and Cody in our absence. Gina did not look very enthusiastic about the whole thing."

"So long as they don't chew her house up, she'll be fine," he said, unconcerned about leaving the dogs with their friends. He wasn't sure which was more trouble - dogs or children. He'd never had a dog as a child, and it was definitely a novelty for him.

"So long as we are back before the 4th of September, she'll be happy with us," Nat chuckled gently. "That's the final assessment by the adoption agency." She tipped the contents of one drawer into a cosmetics bag, zipping it closed before tucking it into her suitcase securely, and bent down to study the shoes she kept here in Glastonbury.

"You think the dogs would screw up their chances of adopting?" he asked, curiously, laughing as he watched her dump the contents of a drawer into a small bag. "Are you sure you have enough stuff?" he teased, zipping his bag at last and setting it aside. He'd always been a light packer, but then he was a man and didn't care much about fashion.

"You think this is bad?" she laughed back at him, not even attempting to defend her packing. She was always perfectly turned out, and she was not about to let a little thing like living out of a suitcase change that. "I haven't started on the day to day bag yet."

He rolled his eyes. "You are the only woman I know who wears designer clothes to scrub the toilet," he teased. Once she'd started shopping for him, his wardrobe, too, had changed, though he had hardly noticed. As much as he claimed he didn't care about his appearance, he knew when he looked good and wasn't afraid to admit it. "Well, I'm done," he declared, tugging his shirt off and tossing it onto a chair, almost daring her to ignore him, if she could.

"Truly?" she asked, her eyes skimming his chest before snapping up to his face. He really did know her all too well. It was just as well she obsessively wrote lists before every trip they made. "Then you could make sure the doors are locked, and that Ana is asleep, instead of flaunting yourself in front of me."

"Honey, if I was flaunting it, I'd have my pants off," he teased, shamelessly. Okay, maybe he was flaunting his manliness a little bit, but they weren't going to make another baby by osmosis - whatever that was. He moved over to touch a kiss to her lips, tempting her further..."You know you want me."

"Ah, but I always want you," she reminded him, laughing as he kissed her once again. "And you are deliberately trying to distract me from being prepared in the morning. Is it time to exhume that box from under the bed, or would you rather not play with my toys while Ana is in the house?"

"You and your toys," he chuckled. There was a time when her "box of toys" had weirded him out, but that time had long since passed. "I'm game if you're game," he said, waggling his brows. "But first, let me appease you by checking the doors and making sure she's asleep," he said, touching a kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Spasibo, dusha moya," she murmured to him through her smile, nuzzling close for a long moment. "I promise, I will not be long to finish the packing." After all, packing for a couple of weeks was nowhere near as difficult as packing for an undisclosed amount of time, which was usually what they were doing. Keeping Ana entertained took up most of Nat's day-to-day bag these days.

"You're welcome," he replied in English, though he'd picked up a little of her native Russian just from being around her for so long. Off he went to check the doors and windows and make sure baby Ana was sleeping peacefully. It was all part of their nightly routine, whether they were in Brooklyn, Glastonbury, Avalon or elsewhere.

Having recently graduated to a grown up bed, Ana was still having some difficulty actually staying in it when she was sleeping. She was a wriggler, and even putting up a cot-side to hem her in wasn't entirely succeeding. When Rhys looked in on his daughter, she was fast asleep, wedged at the bottom of the bed in the small gap left by the cot-side, hands and forehead on the floor and the rest of her on the bed.

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2016-07-24 01:19 EST
Rhys chuckled softly to find his daughter upside down and half-off the bed. "Oh, Annybananny, that doesn't look comfortable," he murmured to himself as he quietly stepped into her room to very gently lift his daughter into his arms and settle her back on the pillow, where she belonged.

Lifted up, the little girl protested sleepily, holding onto Rhys as he gently transferred her back to where she would be most comfortable in her own bed. Unintelligible murmurs escaped her mouth as she rubbed her eyes with one sleepy hand, nestling down under the covers with her teddy under one arm, with so much trust in her father that she didn't even need to open her eyes to know it was him.

"Shh, go back to sleep, angel. We have a busy day tomorrow," he whispered soothingly as he tucked the teddy bear in beside her. Though she might not understand his words, she'd likely understand his meaning. Gentle fingers brushed her hair away from her face before touching a soft kiss to her brow. There were no words to describe how much he loved her; she was a gift, a treasure, the culmination of a promise. She and her mother were his happily ever after, or the start of it.

It said a lot about just how well Nat knew him that she'd sent him to check on their daughter at all. She knew she could get at least twenty minutes of uninterrupted time to get her chores done while Rhys was captivated by their daughter sleeping peacefully. In this case, she got everything she needed to do done, all ready for their working holiday, while Ana mumbled in her sleep and drifted deeper under her father's loving gaze.

He sang her a Russian folk song he'd learned from Nat to soothe her back to sleep, taking his time as he always did when it came to his daughter, relishing every moment as if it might be their last. Life, he had learned these last few years since returning from the dead, was for living, and he still had a lot of living to do. Once he was sure she was safely and soundly asleep and the house was secure, he wandered back to the bedroom to see how the progress was going with Nat's packing. "She's sleeping like an angel," he told her, his voice hushed. It was just an expression, of course, because they both knew that angels weren't mortal and, therefore, didn't require sleep.

He arrived back in time to find Nat pulling down the zipper of her dress, about to ready herself for bed. She smiled as he spoke, turning to look at him with soft eyes. "She loves her Papa very much," she told him tenderly. "How far out of the bed was she this time?"

"Nearly standing on her head," he replied with a chuckle, though it concerned him a little. He closed the door, but left it open a crack so that they could hear their little girl if she needed them, before going over to help his wife with her zipper. "I wonder if we didn't put her in a bed too soon," he mused aloud, though all he knew about babies he was learning as he went.

Drawing her hair out of his way, she turned her back to him so he could reach the zipper, tilting her head to watch him from the corner of her eyes. "Let's give it a month," she suggested mildly. "If she doesn't settle down, we should probably think about putting her back in a crib until she stops wriggling, but it could just be her body getting used to the freedom to move about."

"I just don't want her to get hurt," he said, though that much was obvious. He knew he couldn't keep their daughter caged in a crib forever, but he tended to be a little over-protective where she was concerned. It had taken a lot of convincing from Nat just to talk him into moving Ana to her own room. Given his history, it was understandable, and after two years, he was finally starting to relax a little in his role as a father. Deft fingers slid the zipper down her back, before he leaned in to touch his lips to the back of her neck, as slender as a swan's, but far more seductive.

"And if she doesn't have a few bumps and bruises, she won't learn," Nat countered softly, leaning back into him as his lips brushed her neck, a low sigh of delight escaping her lips. Her hand rose to stroke against his jaw as they lingered together, mutual seduction something they had both grown very good at together. "We can put pillows along the floor next to the bed to save her from a bad fall, how about that?"

"No, she might smother herself," he replied, chewing his lip worriedly. They were just going to have to trust in Ana's guardian angel to have things well in hand and hope they'd hear her in time if she was ever in distress. "Maybe we should put the baby monitor in there again," he suggested, though Ana's room was close by enough that it was unlikely they wouldn't hear her if she needed them, even if they were both sleeping.

Nat turned to face him, capturing his jaw in the cradle of her hands as she looked into his eyes. "You cannot prevent her from growing up," she reminded him gently. "This is a part of growing up, and there will be bumps along the way. Give it a month, milaya. Let her show you what a grown up girl she is before you try to put her back in her crib."

Rhys frowned, almost a boyish pout on his handsome face. "But I don't want her to grow up," he said, in no hurry for his baby girl to get old too fast. He wanted her to stay little forever and to always be his little girl, even though he knew that was impossible, as well as impractical.

"Then I suggest you try and pause time, milaya, because that is the only way she will stay small forever," Natalya informed him with a fond smile. "But she will always be your little girl, no matter how old she grows or how many hearts she breaks. You are and always will be her first love, her papa, and no one can ever take your place."

"You know, I dreamed about another little girl once." In fact, he'd dreamed of three children, and though they weren't the same children the Lady had given him a glimpse of in her well, he wondered if they weren't possessed of the same souls. Nat herself had suggested as much, though he wasn't quite sure why her brother might have chosen to come to him first, unless he'd had a good reason for it.

"Another?" she asked curiously, stepping back to ease out of her dress, automatically reaching for a nightdress to wear, even if it was only going to end up on the floor. A slight hardening in her voice suggested he might want to tread carefully if he wanted to talk about this. "Riley's daughter, da""

"My daughter," he corrected. She had appeared to him, after all, at a time when he'd been ready to give up hope, just as Patrick had years later. Who they really were was unimportant; they'd given him the hope to go on when he'd needed it most. He got the feeling she wasn't really ready to hear this and maybe never would be. Maybe there were still some things she was better off not knowing, even if there was no reason for her to feel threatened by the memory of a woman he no longer loved.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter," he said, as he stepped out of his pants and left them on a chair, along with his shirt. The Lady had promised them children of their own, and that was really all that mattered.

Nat stiffened as he dismissed the subject altogether, already chastened by his correction to her. Her jaw set for a moment, a natural reaction to being scolded, however gently it was done. "I do not begrudge you anything you have been promised, Rhys," she said quietly, staring down at the chemise in her hands. "But I fear looking into my child's eyes and seeing her looking back at me. For what does that make me? Nothing but a womb to bear another woman's children."

Natalya Bristol

Date: 2016-07-24 01:20 EST
He frowned, only half-understanding her explanation, but then, how would he feel if she'd told him she was having a child that had been promised to another man' He moved over to her, gently touching her chin so she could meet her gaze. "Nat, our children are ours. They don't have anything to do with her. I dreamed of Patrick and Emily when I needed hope, when I was about to give up. I don't know who they are or why they came to me, but they aren't the same children I saw in the Lady's pool. Or maybe they are. I don't know. I'm not sure it matters. What matters is that we're together and we're having a family of our own. You and me," he told her gently, hoping she would understand what he was trying to say.

Her eyes rose at his urging, her body turning into the curve of his arm as she leaned into him. There was no denial of his love for her, or hers for him. Just that lingering fear that somehow the woman who came before her might come back to steal away their happiness. "I am sorry," she apologized, curling her arms about his waist as she hugged herself to him. "Demon doubts that will always find a way in. I do not doubt you, Rhys, and I will love our children, I know I will. But when Heaven chose your destiny, it was for you to die on the battlefield. I do not want them to have such a sway over you again. I cannot lose you again, Rhys. I would rather die myself than lose you."

"Don't say that, Nat," he told her, his heart twisting painfully with anguish at the very thought of that. He knew they weren't going to live forever, but he also knew the Lady of Avalon had made them a promise that trumped everything that had gone before. He had fulfilled his agreement with Heaven; his life, his soul, his very existence were his own now, to live the life of his own choosing, and he had chosen Avalon. "The Lady promised we'd grow old together, and after everything we've been through, I have to believe that promise," he told her gently. They'd earned it, after all.

She nodded, hiding her face against his shoulder. "I am afraid sometimes," she admitted. "I do not mean to be. I am so happy with you, and with Ana, and our life together. I will always be a little afraid that it will all be taken away. A life lived alone can do that to a heart."

His arms went around her to hold her close, hoping to comfort her and soothe her worries. He almost regretted telling her about Patrick and Emily, but he didn't want any secrets between them, no matter how small. Then again, they were part of his past, not his future, and maybe it was time to let that part of his life go. He knew what it was like to be alone, but even he had never been as alone as she had; it was something for him to remember. "You're not alone, Nat. You're never going to be alone. We have all of Avalon watching over us, and no matter who or what tries to break us apart, I'm not gonna ever let that happen, no matter what." It was forever tempting to move his little family to Avalon, where they'd be safe, but would they really be safe there, if someone like them wasn't working to keep it safe"

"And neither shall I," she promised him in return, raising her head to kiss him softly. "I am sorry. I have my moods, now and then." She drew in a slow breath, not wanting to linger over her fears and resentments, nor wanting him to feel guilty for talking to her at all. "I am looking forward to seeing you and Ana play together on green grass, out in the open spaces of Ireland. I must remember my camera."

He smiled into her kiss, hoping he'd soothed her worries, for at least, the time being. He knew hers was a tender heart that had been wounded once too often. Maybe he needed a reminder like this every now and then to tread gently so as not to cause her any undue heartache. After all, there was no cause for her worries; she was his soulmate, now and forever. "Green glass?" he asked, curiously. His knowledge of where they were going was somewhat limited, content to leave the logistics to her.

"Green glass?" She laughed, rolling her eyes at him even as she drew away to finish dressing for bed. Of course that involved removing her underwear, and whether or not she got the chemise on depended on how restrained he was feeling in the face of bare skin. "Grass, milaya," she corrected him cheerfully. "The Royal Sites are all out in the open, beneath the sky. I believe only one of them has a building upon it that we will have to enter."

He laughed at his own faux pas. "It's the accent," he told her, with a smirk, though it was probably the view of her in her underwear that had distracted him. "But it's not gonna be dangerous, you said?" he asked, needing that reassurance again, though he'd learned to expect the unexpected, no matter what they'd been told. He was only in his boxers himself, but he'd wait to see if she wanted them off or not before he removed them.

She nodded, pulling the silken chemise on over her head as she turned to face him. They were each waiting for the other, it seemed. "There may well be tests," she warned him. "But the treasures originated in a simpler time, with simpler people. I do not believe they would risk the lives of anyone, purely to determined their worthiness. They're not like the Greeks."

His gaze wandered over her silk-clad form, watching as she changed from one set of lingerie to another. They were comfortable enough with each other now that they didn't drool when the other got changed, but they had not been together so long that the flames of passion had yet cooled. With luck, they never would. "No animated statues blocking our passage and threatening to kill us?" he asked, reminiscent of a past adventure, as he moved over to turn off the light.

"Oh, I hope not," she laughed, shaking her head. That particular adventure had also involved a serrated sword held to her throat, something she didn't want to repeat. "As I understand it, the Tuatha De Danann were a war-like race with a gentler nature. They had as much love for art as they had for war." She drew the covers back, kneeling on the bed to get the pillows into a more comfortable place before sliding between the sheets.

"So, they're going to make me draw a picture?" he asked, facetiously. Obviously, he was joking, though he wasn't sure it was really a joking matter. It certainly wouldn't be if they failed. He turned toward her again, admiring the view as she knelt on the bed, giving him a hint of what was hidden beneath her chemise, even in the dark. Though he had explored and memorized every inch of her form, he found her just as tantalizing today as the day they'd first met.

Look over her shoulder at him, she smirked, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. "They might," she teased, slithering under the covers to crook a finger in his general direction. "They might want details of how you love me. I think we should make sure those sorts of details are very fresh in your mind. Don't you?"

He chuckled. "You think the guardians of the treasure really want porn, Nat?" he teased, as he climbed under the sheets with her and slid closer. It was a given their clothes weren't going to remain on for long, but it would be fun taking them off.

"It is always a possibility," she said, stubbornly sticking to her very silly premise as she slid close to him, curling her arms about his shoulders in the darkness. "You should make sure you can describe it in absolute detail. I do not believe you would wish to demonstrate in front of Ana."

"Hmm, okay, but don't blame me if I start describing your box of toys," he teased, his hands finding her hips beneath her chemise and wandering further, just as his lips captured hers, ending whatever further discussion might be had between them.

Laughter was never in short supply in this house, even when the toddler was already asleep. Rhys and Nat had shared more laughter than tears thus far, and it seemed certain to remain that way, even as passion took over from tender affection to pave the way for the night ahead of them.

If the guardians of the treasures wanted to know how much he loved her, how much they loved each other, all they had to do was weigh their hearts. It wasn't just about the sex because without the love and the passion, it was just a physical thing. Because of their love, it was more than simply a physical thing; it was almost spiritual.

And their love was not simply the love of a man for a woman, and vice versa. It was the love given to the mother and father of their child, and the same love extended to that child. A child who, with unerring timing, toddled into their bedroom just as her parents were about to settle down to sleep and crawled into the narrow space left between them. Neither one of them denied her that space, either. They were a unit, a collective being, and no test would ever change that. The Emerald Isle had better watch out - the Bristols were coming.