10th Century BC
Connacht, the Ulster Cycle, near the city of Armagh. Northern Ireland
"What of the child, my king? The prophecy speaks of balance—a kingdom restored through their veins."
The High King laughed. "The child is but a myth. A fairytale told by old crones. There is no balance—only power."
*****************
Realm of Nature Spirits, Year Unknown
The night displayed a breathtaking show of kaleidoscopic hues; wavelike curtains of fluorescent green bounced around streamers of delicate pink and dark purple, all beneath an umbrella of shimmering stars. The lake reflecting rainbow spirals on its flat surface like an ethereal mirror.
The forest itself was dark, and the sky’s glowing aura seeped through the tree's branches and cast ghostly shadows that danced and swayed as a small gust of wind rattled the trees, their branches creaking like rusty hinges.
A woman emerged near the trunk of an especially old willow tree, peering down at a young girl, barely noticeable as she slept.
‘She adores this tree.’
The woman stood idly for some time, allowing her thoughts to take hold of her as she observed the slumbering child, obscured beneath the shielding vines that encased her within an earthly cocoon.
‘She seems so innocent,’ the woman thought, sighing. ‘Almost angelic.’
Almost.
As the woman knelt beside her, the velvety jade satin of her dress flowed and pooled around her while the auburn of her locks sparkled and flickered like a blazing fire, accented by tiny trickles of coloured moonlight that danced around her in the swinging branches.
A gentle breeze blew through the willow’s lowest hanging limbs, its drooping and rather miserable-looking foliage serving as a barrier, keeping the two people inside safe from the evils of the night that lurked beyond its protective screen.
Realising it was almost time, the woman glanced up at the sky through a tangle of knotted branches. When she moved to awaken the child, the braided vines and tree roots naturally shifted out of her way.
“Buffy.” Shaky fingers slowly extended closer as they stroked across her rosy cheeks. “Wake up, honey,” the woman whispered softly.
She did not wish to do this. She had prayed to the goddesses above that she wouldn’t have to. She had intended to safeguard this secret from others, yet already rumours of Medb's return were rapidly spreading throughout the realms. A persistent nagging whisper in the deep recesses of her mind forewarned her that the inevitable would come to pass, but she was convinced she had more time.
There was no getting out of this.
It needed to be done.
‘Damn prophecy!’ She snarled, turning away from the slumbering child. Green flames burst forth and danced in her eyes, transforming gut-wrenching shame into a deep anger that threatened to consume her. ‘And yet you have no one to blame but yourself.’ The truth of the notion burned fiercely and stoked her into a seething rage that crackled the very air around her like miniature fireworks.
A sleepy moan jolted her out of her fury.
Small fists massaged tiny eyes as Buffy attempted to open them and blink away the sleepy fog. She gazed up at the fuzzy image of her mother’s face. Buffy’s stunning green eyes, usually a mirror image of her mother’s, were nearly demonic black in the filtered moonlight.
"Mummy?" Buffy murmured sleepily.
The woman hesitated briefly before drawing near and putting her arm protectively around Buffy’s shoulders. She pulled her daughter into her lap, not wanting to reveal her distress.
Buffy returned her mother’s warm hug, burying her head under her chin, and sighed contentedly as her mother stroked her golden hair to calm her.
Joyce cupped Buffy's face and moved it slightly to better look at her daughter. “My sweet Buffy,” she cooed as her thumb gently rubbed Buffy's cheek. “I'm sorry I had to wake you." She said, urging her nerves to calm. "I have something for you."
"What is it?"
"Here, sweetheart," her mother said quietly, but the young girl had hardly heard her.
Buffy frowned in utter confusion when she gazed down at the centuries-old silver chalice that had mysteriously appeared in her mother's hand.
Her angelic face glanced up at her mother inquisitively. 'This isn't going to be easy,' Joyce realised. Despite being a lovely little creature, Buffy was stubborn as an ox, with a temper to match.
"It's magic!" It will help keep you safe, she whispered the last part to herself, praying to the powers above that Buffy's obsession with the craft would work in her favour.
Buffy's tiny body was suddenly gripped by fear; she knew this gift had not been given lightly. All she could do was stare wide-eyed at her mother and nod.
After a solemn moment, Buffy reached for the chalice and gripped it with both hands. She swirled the cloudy brown liquid until the overwhelming smell struck her – a powerful assault on the senses. Crinkling her nose, she pushed the chalice back into her mother's palms.
"It smells...icky."
"I know, baby, I know,” Joyce whispered as she tucked a loose golden lock behind Buffy's ear. Her stomach wrenched uncontrollably as she pushed the chalice back towards Buffy. "I need you to drink this, Buffy. I'm sorry, but you've got to. Remember what we spoke about? I need to keep you safe. I can't let them find you."
Buffy smiled warily at her mother, then shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and lifted the chalice to her lips. A gentle breeze swept across the leafy foliage, and an icy shiver ran down Joyce’s spine.
'Goddess, forgive me.'
Joyce quickly peeked around their protection as Buffy began to sag in her arms. Her eyes fixed on an eerie figure lurking in the shadows, only discernible by a pair of bright yellow eyes that seemed to float like two lonely fireflies. She wondered how she had missed its presence.
Joyce felt powerless when she realised that she was completely out of her depth. “No! No! No! I will not let you take her!” She shouted, holding an unconscious Buffy to her chest as panic set in, the fire in her eyes reigniting.
Her heart began to beat so fast in her chest that it was a wonder it didn’t explode straight out of it as the beast stepped closer. It chuckled, and shiny white fangs joined glowing eyes, a wicked sneer gradually spreading across its face. Concealed by shadows, it strode towards her as she stood, embracing Buffy protectively in her arms.
Joyce bent down to give her sleeping daughter a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me," she whispered, and then gently set her down on the ground. Immediately, an intricate web of roots surrounded her sleeping form. With a satisfied grin, Joyce stood up slowly and looked back at the dark creature.
"I won't let you take her."
"The High King has killed her once, and he will again, this time for good!" The creature snarled.
"You stay the hell away from my daughter!" Joyce screamed, raising her left arm as though to shove him defensively, but they were still a few feet apart. Suddenly, thick, prickly vines sprung forth from the ground at the beast’s feet, causing the earth to tremble. Striking faster than a rattlesnake, they seized the beast's legs, holding him there with an excruciating grip, and when long, razor-sharp thorns penetrated flesh, he let out a gruesome wail.
"And now he will never find her." Joyce smiled triumphantly as she began to feel the magic surging through her veins.
The beast was forced to watch as a tiny, pale green spark emanated from the palm of her hand. Joyce guided it towards the thick trunk of the ancient willow, where it softly seeped into the bark. As the spark gradually made its way deeper into the tree, it glowed and expanded in size, tripling its intensity and transforming from a light green to a deep shade of emerald.
Trying to summon every ounce of her residual energy, she closed her eyes and concentrated, knowing it still seemed far too early for her to begin opening portals.
The spark blazed, dimmed, then flickered, and Joyce clenched her teeth and gave and gave of herself until it surged again with an intense brightness to rival that of the sun, engulfing the willow in a blinding flash of light.
Buffy was pulled into the base of the willow tree by the network of roots, where she vanished from sight; Joyce's magical reserves gave out, and she collapsed to the ground with a thud.
**************
Human World
October 31st, 1947 - Killarney National Park, Ireland
In a flash of shimmering green light, Buffy awoke, her small form curled beneath the grandeur of a willow tree that looked identical to the one she’d left behind, its branches swaying gently as if to comfort her. The forest around her, a grove of ancient yews and birch, was a silent witness to her sudden arrival.
With no memories to call her own, her first breaths were filled with the earthy aromas of moss and dirt, her eyes wide and filled with wonder as she gazed around the strange land. Her eyes filled with tears and her sobs, soft like the rustling of leaves, stirred the forest into a gentle murmur.
As if called by her cries, the wolves appeared. They emerged from the shadows, their forms ghostly and graceful. Their howls rose to the heavens, a haunting chorus that wove through the trees. There was no menace in their approach. Instead, they encircled Buffy with an air of reverence.
Buffy, sensing their acceptance, found her fears slowly ebbing away. She reached out a tentative hand, and a wolf nuzzled it gently, an acknowledgement of her place amongst them.
In this moment, the girl and the wolves were united, a family bound not by blood but by spirit. They had waited for this moment – the return of their queen, whose spirit has danced through the circles of time.
As Buffy grew, the wolves remained her constant guardians, teaching her the ways of the wild and the ancient laws that governed their existence. Hidden within the embrace of the forest, they stayed with her, awaiting the day she would rise and reclaim her throne.
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Story Notes:
Disclaimer #1 All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer #2 I do not own the rights to "The Voice" by Celtic Woman, "Heartbreak Hotel" by Elvis Presley, the Wolfwalkers film by Cartoon Saloon, or any characters associated with Irish Mythology such as Medb and Ailill. This fanfic is for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer #2 I do not own the rights to "The Voice" by Celtic Woman, "Heartbreak Hotel" by Elvis Presley, the Wolfwalkers film by Cartoon Saloon, or any characters associated with Irish Mythology such as Medb and Ailill. This fanfic is for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Firstly, I want to thank my Beta, Hostile17-1996. This fic wouldn't have been possible without your insightful advice, valuable feedback, contributions and support. Your hard work is greatly appreciated.