He lay there, his hair matted with blood, my Gwydion, my lover, my son . convinced that she adored him, and never questioned her devotion or denied her anything she asked. And when she would have spoken, he said vehemently, No, tell me not that I imagined it, Morgaine-you were not there, yo Gwydion had been taken from her, Uwaine had been nine years old when he learned to call her mother.
way Morgaine only half understood, the sword Excalibur had grown entangled with the very soul and spirit of Arthur's kingship. You have tired yourself again, she said, not adding, you are no longer young enough to go about your own lands like this. except, perhaps, for that day when the mists had opened, and Gwenhwy-far had somehow fallen or wandered through. Soon Uriens was tucked into bed in his own chamber, Uwaine standing beside him while Morgaine went to the kitchens to brew a poultice for his cheek.
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