That One Problematic Ancestor...
[LONG LONG AGO in circa 1126, on the hills of Glen Shire, a royal hunters court group journey to the Halls of the Cadwr Castle, the setting is grief stricken, the air charged with sadness like a barrier of heavy fog despite the crisp clean air of Spring]
"My men, leave us. We'll take Cynwal's body to his bed chambers, where he will rest until the cremation ceremony in 3 days time. Godric, I appreciate all you have done my good friend. Might I request one last favor of the day?"
"Of course, my Prince."
"Find the most suitable servant elf. We will sacrifice it alongside Brochfael's son so that he may guide the child through the afterlife and into the Great Avalons realms. If we are lucky the elf will please the God's enough and they will return the boys soul to be reborn again to his Father in due time."
"Right away."
"Leave, Cern. I need to tend to my son alone."
"My friend I do not think it wi-"
"I DO NOT CARE FOR YOUR THOUGHTS."
"..."
"I accepted your oathe. I respect you as my royal. As my potential future King. But if I have to continue to look at you, then there will be regrets in letting us linger in each other's presence for a moment longer. Do not enter his bed chambers until word comes to tell that the pyre is ready."
With that he lifted his sons body off the makeshift gurney and carried him off to the boys rooms near the cellar.
He did not see Her Heighness approaching from the shadows she had disillusioned herself in.
"My son."
Cernunnos startled and turned to her, "I-"
"You have just set into motion events that will nearly doom our future. I See All," her voice was changing and Cernunnos's palor grew wane in the dim light of the castle hall.
"Should the Hound Leader Perish, his pup will face the faceless Lord. Should the Black Hound Perish, his pup will face the Lord's right hand Lady. They will be prophesied by the sherry witted. They will be doomed by a Dumbledore. Their Fates are Fallen to the chances of change. Should the Hound Leader Slumber, his pup will reign again. Should the Black Hound Slumber, his pup will reign again. United regardless, they Rule. Separated, they shall fail."
Several moments of silence passed until she looked up into his eyes. "I am disappointed, my son. I warned you not to get greedy with today's hunt."
"You failed to inform me that you... you had Visions of this!"
"I did not forsee. Instinctively I felt a bit of foreboding. The leaves showed the Grim, my dear. I had worried that the death was yours."
"How was I supposed to know!?"
"I've told you multiple times it's morbid for you to hunt the stags. I named you after my favorite deity. He has taken this fate out on you as penance for your sense of humor."
"Mother, that's just preposterous!"