Twenty years pass so quickly when you're not truly living.

Mairead wouldn't call her childhood happy, though there were days of peace and joy; a cloud hung above the Rhyls. Not a cloud, though, a sword. It didn't seem to matter how much time passed; Uther Pendragon's thirst for magical blood would never be slaked.

It was an eternal truth, Mairead decided, as inescapable as birth and death for all living things.

But that didn't mean she had to be happy about it.

Outside of the constant duty of caring for her family and people, keeping what was left of Beladur from dying out, the flame of hatred constantly burned within Mairead. She may have only been two when Beladur was sacked, but memories like those didn't fade with time. They only strengthened. Scores of nights in her childhood were spent with those images playing across her eyelids, the sight of fire and blood inescapable.

But as she grew, they changed into something else entirely. Mairead's dreams shifted into a hope for the future, the hope for revenge.

Such were dark thoughts, some might have called them evil, but Mairead disagreed with such an assessment. How could any evil be greater than that of Uther Pendragon himself? He destroyed generations of innocents in his anger, wiping away an ancient culture and religion. That was often how Mairead excused her hatred of the man, much preferring that explanation to the personal pain he caused her.

Elin Rhyl was just another one of Uther's many victims, faceless to the King of Camelot but not to her family.

Five years past, before the Rhyls returned to the ruins of Beladur; a raid on their camp proved fatal for Elin.

Before that day, it was easy to push aside all that had been taken from the Rhyls; at least they had each other. But the death of Elin Rhyl marked a change. No longer could the family live on the outskirts of a world they once ruled; the hatred for the Pendragons began anew, like an ember stoked by a warm gust of wind.

Such flames kept Mairead going each day, as did the knowledge that it was her and Osian alone responsible for the survival of their family and people.

That day was no different; as midday came and went, the sun sinking slowly towards the horizon, Mairead made her daily rounds.

She woke with the sun, caring for her two younger sisters, all the while making sure those who followed them back to Beladur were well settled. Some days were easier than others. They had been blessed with a good harvest; no one would go hungry that winter, Mairead was assured.

But as dusk approached, Mairead made her way to her most painful duty.

The corridors leading towards the garden were in much the same condition as the rest of the castle, soot-stained walls and crumbling columns, upheld by ancient magic yet tragic looking all the same. Ivy and moss had begun to overtake the structure after many long years, the Rhyls returning just in time before the greenery completely overtook the stone.

Still, Mairead was glad to be home, long since tired of fifteen years on the run. She didn't realize how much she missed having a home until she returned to the place of her people.

Perhaps the most surprising sight of their return was not the ruined castles or ashes of once great homes but the state of Elin's garden. If it was by magic or some otherworldly power, Mairead knew not, but the garden remained much the same as when her mother had tended to it.

The pear tree she used to watch Osian sneak fruit from still stood tall, flowering each spring just as it had in their youth. It seemed undeterred by all that occurred around it as if a day had passed instead of twenty years. Bushes of cowslip and madder, shades of vibrant green and yellow, still grew in finely trimmed hedges. Beneath the looming hazelnut tree, whose bark was marked with hundreds of initials from Rhyl's past, sat shrubs of wild rosemary.

One breath could take Mairead back to the days of her early childhood; memories of her mother always intertwined with the soft scent of herbs and soil. The knowledge that though nearly everything had changed, time taking its toll, her mother's garden remained the same warmed Mairead's aching heart. Though her mother had gone from this world, there was still a part of her alive in that garden, among the flowers and trees housed between the great stone walls and pillars of their past.

Maybe that was why her father spent all his time nestled among the green, muttering about blossoms and bark, his spirit dead alongside his wife.

Since Elin's death, something had shattered inside Aneirin. If it was his heart, soul, or mind, Mairead knew not, but whatever it was left him a shell of the King he once was. His eyes glazed over, the once intelligent blue faded till there was nothing left of her father in his gaze.

The only thing worse than father's state was the knowledge that despite all her power, no amount of magic could fix that which was broken in Aneirin Rhyl.

Nothing can fix a broken heart, Nimueh would coo, trying her hardest to calm the grieving young woman, hungry for answers.

Still, Mairead tried.

Little more than a child, she spent her days searching desperately for some cure or remedy for his ailment. Begging and pleading, Mairead offered all she had to the Old Religion and the Triple Goddess for any semblance of guidance. They offered nothing in return but silence.

That seemed to be the curse of Mairead's life, to live with the knowledge that nothing was of her own making, for all her power, she held none over her own life.

But despite the pain, she did the same thing every day.

As Mairead's day ended, her work and responsibilities done, she made the silent walk towards her mother's garden, prepared to sit silently by her father's side.

Entering the grounds, Mairead was met with the same sight as she was every day. Her father stood with his back to her, dark blue robes loose and wrinkled around his shoulders, hand fiddling with a broken branch on the pear tree.

As silently as she could, Mairead lifted her skirts, creeping into the garden and setting herself down upon the single stone bench.

She could hear his muttering about this year's bloom and the rain they would need. If her father noticed his daughter's presence, Mairead knew not; instead, she enjoyed the garden's silence and the momentary freedom from any responsibility.

Sat on that bench, Mairead didn't have to be a princess or older sister; she could be just a girl, lonely and afraid of a world that was changing too rapidly. But, of course, she would never admit that the life she led required strength and a heart of stone. That was the only way she and her people would survive if they were as cold and ruthless as those that hunted them.

But sometimes, alone in that garden, just her and her father, there were moments of light. Aneirin would stop his wandering, sitting still for the first time in forever, and he would look at her, truly look at her. Something dark inside of Mairead taunted her, whispering that her father was truly gone, so lost that he couldn't even recognize his own daughter. But in those moments, not more than mere seconds, a glimmer of hope sent her heart soaring.

Her father's eyes would widen, something akin to recognition in the blue depths, and he would smile at her. No words would be shared, he never said her name, but it didn't matter. Her father was alive again for a moment, a single heartwarming moment.

Such occurrences were her secret, a fleeting feeling shared between two lost souls, and the only secret she dared keep from her family.

Sometimes in the dark of night, when she struggled to sleep, Mairead felt immensely guilty for not telling her brother and sisters. Didn't they deserve to have a moment with their father too? Especially the young two, whose memories of their parents were scant at best.

But something stopped her; just like the voice that taunted her, it came from a deep dark place inside her. Jealous and hateful, it asked a question Mairead loathed to dwell upon.

Her siblings had someone to care for them; who did she have?

No one, the voice would reply, sharp and loathsome. But another voice would respond, kinder than before, Nimueh.

And that was true; her aunt had always been there without fail.

When Elin had died, leaving Mairead without anyone to learn the secret rites of the Old Religion from, who had taught her?

Nimueh.

The first time Mairead allowed herself to cry for her lost mother and broken father, who held her close, whispering words of comfort?

Nimueh.

Though she was absent sometimes, off doing something unknown to her nieces and nephew, Nimueh was always there when it mattered. Mairead had the faintest memory of her aunt's arrival the night Beladur was attacked, a steadfast figure but one who was haunted by her own demons.

Of course, that was not altogether surprising, though she did not know the full extent of what occurred between Uther Pendragon and Nimueh Rhyl; Mairead knew enough to understand her aunt felt immensely guilty for all that happened.

Mairead couldn't say if such guilt were deserved, but she knew that Nimueh had done everything within her power to protect the family she had left.

Only after Elin's death did the Rhyl children begin to see something new within their loving aunt, something darker that they all tried to keep at bay.

The death of her sister-in-law awoke something, a beast that craved vengeance and would not be silenced till its appetite was filled. Two years after Elin's passing, Nimueh left Beladur in the early hours of dawn, promising her eldest niece and nephew that her departure came with the hope of justice for their mother and all the others that had been lost.

Three years passed with only rare sightings of Nimueh, she would return to Beladur for days of celebration and always on the anniversary of Elin's death. While her presence was lessened, it was still felt keenly among the scattered residents of Beladur.

"Elin?"

her father's voice shattered the deep thought Mairead had found herself in, the word he whispered sending a cold sweat through her body. Though he was staring at her, it was perhaps more accurate to say he was staring through her. His face, horribly gaunt, looked as though he'd seen a ghost.

Rising from the cold stone bench, Mairead slowly approached her father, "No, father, it's Mairead."

She stared at him, careful not to startle him as she would around a skittish animal. A little flame of hope ignited in her heart; if he recognized her mother, perhaps he could be convinced to see his daughter. But her father slowly shook his head, eyes glazing over again, and turned away from her. Any hope of a warm reunion shattered, joining the layer of fallen leaves and blades of grass on the ground.

Thankfully, she wasn't forced to stew in her pain for long as another familiar face entered the gardens behind the princess.

"Milady?" a soft voice asked; Mairead turned to see the shy form of Jessamy, a young serving girl who had lost most of her family in a raid some years prior.

Putting on her warmest smile and stashing away the pain that always followed a visit with her father, Mairead approached the young woman, "Yes, Jessamy?"

"Your aunt is here, and she wishes to speak with you."

The smile that tugged at Mairead's lips was more genuine than before; linking arms with Jessamy, she led her away from the King, "Well then, we mustn't keep her waiting."

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Jessamy led Mairead quietly towards the small sitting room directly off the courtyard, one of the few rooms not wholly destroyed by the fire twenty years prior. Then, slipping off to help the cook with dinner, Jessamy left Mairead to take in the joyful sight before her. Nimueh stood wrapped around the forms of her two youngest nieces, the three talking animatedly.

Caitrin, all dark hair and demure smiles, stood safely under her aunt's arm. At fifteen, Mairead knew her younger sister often like the black sheep of the family, not quite fitting in among her siblings. Mairead only wished Caitrin could see herself at that moment, fitting perfectly among the three Rhyl women. It was where she belonged.

Only reaching Nimueh's waist stood the youngest Rhyl child, Alys.

Mairead's youngest sister remained untouched by the hatred that plagued her older siblings. Instead she was a curious young girl with a wild temperament and an infectious laugh. Even now, she was speaking rapidly to her aunt about the latest book she was reading, regaling Nimueh with stories of dragons and faeries.

"Alys," Mairead chided, finally making her presence known, "let Nimueh breathe."

All eyes fell on her, Nmueh's smile softening at the sight of her eldest niece. Alys was the first to greet her sister; unphased by her scolding, she grasped Mairead's hand to drag her into the huddle, "Aunt Nimueh doesn't mind."

Mairead chuckled at the haughty expression on her sister's face before turning her gaze to Nimueh, "I didn't know you were coming to visit."

Her aunt's smile grew stiff, "Can't I just come to visit m favorite nieces?"

Caitrin scoffed, "We're your only nieces."

"Whatever the reason, we're glad you're here," Mairead interrupted, "you're just in time for dinner."

"Jessamy's making biscuits!" Alys added on with a jump, tugging at Nimueh's cloak to further her point.

Bending down to meet her eyes, Nimueh grasped onto Alys, "That sounds wonderful!"

"Why don't the two of you get cleaned up," Mairead suggested, earning a groan from her younger sisters, "I must speak with Aunt Nimueh in private."

"I'm not a child, Mairead," Caitrin argued, brows furrowed in frustration.

"Caitrin," Mairead warned, voice hard; there was no room for argument in her tone.

Their eyes met, staring intensely until one decided to break contact and back down. Then, like always, Caitrin lowered her eyes, grabbing Alys by the wrist and dragging her towards their rooms.

With a sigh, Mairead's shoulders dropped, she never enjoyed speaking to her sisters like that, but at times it was necessary.

Though she didn't know why her aunt decided to visit, the spontaneity could only mean it was about something serious. Slinking into a nearby chair, Mairead dropped down into the cushion, sinking her head into her cradled hands.

"I didn't mean to cause any tension," Nimueh apologized, sitting beside her niece, "though you handled it well."

Mairead scoffed, much like Caitrin; they were sisters, after all, "There's no need to lie."

Nimueh laughed, a hand coming to rub Mairead's back in comfort, "Either way, you're doing your best."

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you," Mairead straightened her posture, looking Nimueh in the eyes, "but why are you really here?"

Her aunt faltered, eyes falling to the floor before finding her niece again, "Where's your brother?"

"You're avoiding my question," Mairead accused.

"I'd rather tell you and Osian together," she replied, "you know how he hates being left out."

Through her joking tone, Mairead could hear the faintest tinge of tension in her aunt's voice, "He's on patrol."

"Will he be back in time for dinner?"

"He should be," Mairead paused, "though that doesn't mean he will be."

Their conversation was abruptly finished when a pair of rapid footsteps came into earshot, and racing through the doorway came Alys with a book in hand. Stalking behind her was Caitrin, her head downcast and body slumped as she entered the room.

Alys wasted no time in squeezing in between Mairead and Nimueh, opening her book and showing off the carefully painted pages to her aunt. Mairead watched as Caitrin sat down opposite of them, picking at the skin around her fingers, not daring to meet Mairead's eyes.

Swallowing her pride and guilt, Mairead rose and settled in the space next to her sister, offering her a smile in place of an apology. It was how their relationship worked; neither were very talkative, instead enjoying their shared silence. That small smile was enough to tell Caitrin that she was sorry, and when Caitrin rested her head on Mairead's shoulder, it said to her that all was forgiven.

The four sat like that for near an hour, listening intently to Alys, who never stopped talking for more then a minute. It felt frighteningly normal, sitting there, listening to the rushed words of her little sister. But the peace was shattered by the arrival of one more Rhyl.

Osian entered the room much like Mairead had, quietly and taking the time to observe his surroundings. Mairead and Osian shared the most similarities in appearance, both long and lean; they had the same pale brown hair as their mother rather than their father and aunt's dark brown locks. But while Mairead might have stood out for her beauty, it was Osian's biggest shame that separated him in a crowd.

On the right side of his face, Osian was covered in scars, the skin of his cheekbone and head thick and obtrusive. They were the result of a torch-wielding knight, one who had caught her big brother unawares and alone during the sacking of Beladur. Only their mother's intervention kept Osian alive, but not untouched by his encounter.

Her brother never spoke of his scars, he seemed quite content to ignore their existence altogether, but Mairead knew him well enough to know they haunted him.

Like all the other members of House Rhyl, Osian was haunted by the events of that fiery night twenty years ago. His silence on the matter didn't change that.

Since their mother died and their father followed close behind in spirit, Osian became King in all but name. He constantly patrolled the borders of Beladur, ensuring that no errant knights decided to encroach on their lands. He was weighed down by duty, Mairead noticed, a duty that by rights wasn't even his yet.

They were the same in that aspect but too young to carry the weight that had been thrust upon them.

"Aunt," Osian greeted, wiping the dust off of his clothes, "I didn't know you'd be visiting,"

Nimueh rose to greet him, bringing him in for a tight hug, "Your sister said the same thing."

Jessamy's entrance interrupted the reunion, announcing that dinner was ready and served. The small family made their way to the dining room, speaking with each other, basking in the presence of many like-minded souls.

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Dinner proved to be just as lively as their stint in the sitting room; Nimueh sat beside Alys, who was overjoyed at the presence of her aunt.

The Rhyl's at a hearty dinner of hazelnut soup alongside rye bread and biscuits. With the addition of Nimueh, Jessamy cooked the family a chicken as well. A plate of mushroom pasties was quickly devoured, Alys sneaking most of them for herself.

The adults, namely Mairead and Nimueh, enjoyed goblets of mulled wine, the alcohol casting a warm haze over the candlelight.

It was perhaps the closest the Rhyls would get to a perfect evening, free from the shadow that was always cast upon them. But all good things must end, a saying Mairead was all too familiar with.

After dessert,  rose pudding with a side of syrupy pears, Mairead sent Caitrin and Alys off to bed. The mood of the evening seemed to rub off on Caitrin, as she didn't so much as groan when her elder sister sent her off to sleep.

With the children to bed, it was time for the actual discussion to begin, which was apparent on Nimueh's face as she drained her goblet of wine. Mairead kept a close eye on her aunt, the firelight casting strange shadows on her pale face. Her round features were masked in shadow; Mairead was struck by how tired her aunt looked as if the weight of the world was coming down on her.

"I didn't want to do this," her aunt choked out, voice so small and guilty.

Osian rose from his seat, lifting the pitcher of wine and filling their aunt's goblet, his mead cup was near empty, but he made no move to fill it. She muttered a quiet thank you, staring deeply into the cup as though she might find the answer at the bottom.

"Whatever it is," Mairead broke the silence, reaching out to grasp Nimueh's hand, "we're here for you."

Her aunt lowered the goblet, steeling herself, "I've let too many years pass without action. It is time our people are avenged."

The entire room froze, words they all believed but never dared to say; Mairead watched as Osian's grip on his cup grew tighter and tighter.

It seemed up to Mairead to speak for the siblings, "On that, we all agree, but what can we do?"

"You shouldn't have to do anything," Nimueh looked torn, "this was my doing. I should be the one to fix it."

"There is no fixing it," their gazes flickered to Osian, his voice so sharp Mairead was sure she saw Nimueh flinch.

"You're right," she conceded, "I just mean, no one else should get hurt because of my actions."

"How hard can it be to kill Uther Pendragon?" Osian scoffed, his glare now fixed on a point past Nimueh's head.

"Osian-" Mairead started to scold her brother but was stopped by Nimueh's hand squeezing her own.

"I thought much the same, nephew," ignoring his glare, Nimueh continued, "but there is magic in the heart of Camelot, and it seems set on hindering my plans."

That caught the attention of both the Rhyls, magic in the heart of Camelot?

"Why would anyone with magic protect Uther Pendragon?" Mairead spat out the King's name.

"It is not Uther he protects, but Arthur," Nimueh corrected, "but in doing so, he is proving to be a veritable foe."

"Then we must remove the obstacle," Osian advised.

"You're right," their aunt agreed, "but I can't do it alone."

The sibling's eyes met, but Mairead asked the question they were both thinking, "You want our help?"

Nimueh nodded, grasping Osian and Mairead's hands with her own, "You two have reasons enough to hate Uther, I cannot promise it will be safe, but this is a chance for us to do what should have been done decades ago."

For Beladur, mother, and father, Mairead chanted to herself, recounting every name she could while thinking about her aunt's request.

Osian rose from his chair, holding his mead cup out in toast, "To vengeance."

Nimueh followed suit, a self-satisfied smirk overtaking her typically delicate features, "To vengeance, nephew."

Though she was the last of the trio, Mairead was by no means the least invested. She rose from her seat, eyes hard as stone, dreaming of Uther Pendragon's blood staining the grounds of Camelot forever, "To vengeance."

AUTHORS NOTE

I might have gone a little, teensy bit overboard, but too late.

We finally get to meet or main girl Mairead, I love her with all my heart. Also, we got to see a different side of Nimueh. I know she may seem out of character, but the extent of her character on the show was "I hate Uther, he needs to die". While that is valid, she deserved a complex personality and back story.

I hope you enjoyed this, it's my birthday present to myself and you all!!