Chapter 5

As the night grew thin and all were asleep Magalea relived the nights events in vivid detail. Something was amiss though. In her dream as she turned to face her handsome partner she found him much changed. The face before her had ram horns and an inhuman stare. He smiled at her with predation as a horse's tail swayed behind him with their movements.
In the dream she found herself reaching up to touch his warm olive toned cheek. "What sort of man are you?" She whispered in wonder.
"I am no sort of man at all." He replied with a mischevious grin.
"Nay, more a mouse than a man." She jested boldly. He chuckled, grasping her by the hips. "I suppose that is what you would think my rose." He chose that moment to breathe softly on her cheek, smiling as she began to stir from her slumber. "Open thine eyes sweet moonrose, but do not scream. It would be unwise to wake your grandparents."
"You cannae be here, I refuse ta believe it true, so I'll be keepin' me eyes closed." She said casually, thouroughly convinced that she was still asleep.
Xander's laugh was a melodic thing as he brushed the hair from her brow. He was perched at the end of her cot, a giant thing in the tiny space. "That would make you the coward my rose." When this did not sway her he tried flattery. "You were more lovely than the bride this night Magalea."
She hid her blush in the pillows. "You talk far too much daft fae. I didnae see you aft the forest."
"Oh I was closer than you think." He said with a grin. "Why do you hide from me sweet Moonrose?"
"If I were ta be lookin' at you I fear I'd do something daft." She stated honestly. "Perhaps my true face is too much for you to bear." He pondered aloud. "Mayhap you would look upon me if I masked it with the face of another you would grace me with thine eyes?"
"No not this night." She replied
"Perhaps in time?" He asked, hoping to hide the anxious hope in his voice.
"Aye perhaps." She said shyly.
"I will look for you at the wedding then." He said as he captured one of her ringlets between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it taunt and watching it spring back into place. "I wish to kiss you goodnight my rose."
“I give no kisses to lurking strangers such as yourself." She replied meekly but firmly. Xander grinned, taking that as a challenge and scooping her up into his arm, using his other hand to cover her mouth to prevent screaming. It had the desired effect, her eyes popping wide to stare right into his amethyst gaze. "Do. Not. Scream." He said in a commanding whisper, a twinkle of triumph in his eyes.
She nodded dumbly and he removed his hand, a sigh of relief escaping him when she indeed did not scream. "What did ya go an' do t'at for?" She whispered agrily as her heart pounded in her ears. Her golden eyes afire with Irishwoman’s rage. The fire dimmed as she examined the creature before her though. "You look just as you did in my dream." She murmured, mesmerized. Reaching out she touched an olive toned cheek.

"I had hoped you would not resist the dream." He whispered in reply, lust a sweet thick honey in his voice. His eyes changed from a light jovial green to a deep emerald, a look of claim in them as he looked over the meek lass in his arms. It took all his strength to resist the urge to growl in triumph. She was enthralled by the curious creature and the way he studied her, the way his eyes changed.
“What brings ye here fae stranger?" Whispered Magalea breathlessly.
"It is not for you to know my rose." he replied as he encased her cheek in his palm. So soft, and how his heart leapt when she closed her eyes, pressing that soft pale cheek into his eager hand.
Her brow furrowed and her eyes came open once more in puzzlement. "Why is it that ya come ta me?"
"You have enthralled me sweet rose." He said matter of factly, toying with her curls once more. "So unlike other mortal women." Xander murmured, more to himself than to her.
"I see..." She said, uncertain how exactly to reply to that. In the awkward silence that followed she shifted in his arms shyly. "I t'ink it is time ya be goin' now."
He nodded and lay her gently back on her cot. "As you wish sweet rose. I will look for you on the morrow."
"I look forward to it." She said with a smile. And Xander was gone as if he had never been, leaving Magalea to drift into an exhausted sleep.
************************************************************************ The Farmhouse:
As the High Kings of the council called the meeting to order the room went from shouts to murmurs. A haze of blue smoke permeated the air. Everyone was on edge as they looked to the good father, the tense gazes of every man in the room looking for some form of guidance and hope in a cause that was nearly lost. Dyson Mahoney sat in the back of the room, brooding over a pint and a f*g as he waited for the call of the plan. He didn't like the position that this would put Maggie in, hated even more that she would become a prime target, but to voice this would be further confirmation that she was more to him than a simple traveler lass. As he lit his third f*g in ten minutes his lungs burned and his eyes watered from the haze. Their dead count had reached well into the fifties in the last few months. “Maggie helps, she truly does." He thought as he looked at Paddy, who by all rights should be dead by now. But the Celt in him didn't want to put his woman in danger. "Ach, lass'd kell meh if ever I called her t'at." He muttered to himself.
Prayers for the dead were recited and then the Kings looked to Dyson. "Our next matter o' buisness is one that we'll be needin' you lads opinion on. The traveler lass Magalea has been of great use to us." The good father paused at the ringing chorus of agreement. "T'is time we should be givin' 'er a much more.....fruitful task." At that the whole room became uneasy.
A whir of shifting and muttering commenced, a few brows raised as well. "What sort o' task could you be givin' a young lass?" Paddy piped up, rubbing the raw scar on his chest.
The good father nodded to two of the other Kings and they rolled out skematics for a gypsy wagon. "We are goin' ta make her our secret weapon." He announced. The men began crowding around and flipping through the many layers to the skematics. Suggestions were voiced and noted on the design as they began shouting over one another.
After a time a ruddy faced railway worker shouted above the din, "So who is to build this wagon!?"
Finally Dyson rose, deadpan serious despite the amout he'd had to drink. "I will." He said with a look in his eyes that brooked no argument.
The room grew stone silent, even the Kings merely nodding. Minutes passed before the meeting resumed. Dyson was given the skematics and promptly stalked off. Someone tried to stop him, but swiftly rethought that action when he saw the murder screaming from his retinas. He found himself walking off the alchohol in the forest, meandering to the large rowan tree. As he rolled out the skematics the gears started to turn in his mind. This didn't feel right, the design too obvious. They were trying to be stealthy, but this design was built souly for war. "If....if Magalea were mine, what would I build her?" He asked himself aloud as he sat in the snow. "Well I'd be makin' et reds and blues and greens, she likes reds and blues, but she looks so louvely in green." He continued drunkenly. After planning out the pretty packaging he began work on what he knew best, the guns.
The Kings were good leaders, but poor at war strategy. With his lower lip between his teeth he modified the small gun turrets and tweaked the storage compartments a bit to better fit the wagons design. By that point the drink was wearing off, the cold biting into his bones. With great dificulty he rose, old injuries making various pops and cracks. "I'm growin' too old fer t'is." He muttered to himself.
A rustle in the forest brought his hand to his gun holster, but it went lax as he saw the blue cloak floating in the wind. At the same time Magalea lowered her hood, her heart skipping a beat as their eyes met across the distance."I nearly threw this at you." She said on an exhale, lowering her dagger and straightening from her fighting stance.
"And I nearly shot you." He said with a cocked brow.
"We really need ta stop meetin' this way."
"Aye for truth." She agreed with a smile, walking up to him."Many nights we've met pondering under this same Rowan tree." She said as she folded her arms across her chest, peering down at the rolls of paper in his lap. "Should I even ask?"
"Plans for the next operation." He said in a clipped tone.They want ta use ye fer et." His face darkened."Like a lamb ta the slaughter." He muttered, spitting over his shoulder. She knealt beside him, her black skirts and dark cloak fanning out in stark contrast to the snow.
"Show me" She replied, growing serious herself. "I am na the lamb, Dyson Mahoney, but the wolf."
He shook his head as a pounding headache overcame him, throwing up his arms in surrender.Rolling out the battle plans he went over the operation's details. There would be smaller attacks to weaken the british defenses throughout the year, the first of which would be in Belfast on Easter Sunday. Before the travelers moved out Dyson was to present Magalea with the wagon as a token of friendship, when in reality he would present her will a rolling arsinel. As ever her knowledge of tactics impressed him, for only she would give feedback quite so well. He explained the changes in desigin as mere camoflage, hoping that she wouldn't see through the ruse. A silence grew between them after a time, one of those loud silences that hangs like a storm cloud between lovers that have not yet found one another out.
Days had passed since the solstice, neither knowing what exactly to say to the other after running through the plan. Magalea searched her mind for something, anything to say. "You...um...didnae have to do that Dy." She whispered eventually, adjusting her cloak as the wind shifted.
The comment had come from nowhere but he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Oh aye, I did. No one should ever treat you as they did that night, and I would bash em all again should the need arise."
She looked at his still healing knuckles with furrowed brow. "I should make you a poltice for these." She murmured, brushing her thumb over them.
He rolled his hand over to grasp hers. "If you liek." He smiled and pressed their palms together. "Remember that night in county Cork?"
She wrinkled her nose in embarassment. "When I was reciting Shakespear to entertain the camp?"
"Aye that night." He whispered, grasping her other hand and moving them so that they were both palm to palm. There was a twinkle in his cold eyes, his pulse racing as he thought this through
. Magalea's eyes popped wide with understanding. "Palm to palm is holy pilgrim's kiss, let lips-" She had no time to finish the quote, Dyson's mouth capturing hers mid sentance.
It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when at last their lips parted he whispered, "Let lips do what hands do."
A deep blush rose to Magalea's cheeks. She lowered her head to hide her face in her raven locks. Her heart was thudding, for that had been her first kiss. All others she had thwarted with a swift flick of the wrist, or a knee to the groin, but Dyson Mahoney had slipped her defenses and stolen it from her like the marauder he was. "I should be goin'." She whispered meekly.

They were still sitting palm to palm, still mere inches from one another, both flushed from the cold when Xander happened upon them. The fey quickly checked his rage and spirited over to them, lurking close by in the forest. "We've not yet finished the scene though." Dyson protested, tucking her hair behind her ear to better see her face.
She peered up at him shyly and replied, "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers sake."
"Then move not while my prayers effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged." He responded in his deep brough, making the lilting words of Shakespear bend to his will as he brought his lips to hers once more.
When at last they parted lips a meek smile graced Magalea's face and Dyson was grinning like a school boy. "This is the part where Juliet gets called away." She whispered, nuzzling him a moment before she realized what she was doing.
A bough creaked from above, dropping snow onto them and snapping her back to reality. She sprang to her feet as a deep chuckle rolled on the night wind. "Foolish boy." The fey spat from above. "That one is mine." He snarled, leaping from one of the Rowan's great boughs to face his advisary.
Magalea shielded Dyson, glaring at Xander. "Why do you come here daft fae?"
Xander inspected his nails casually. "Why to get what is mine of course." He replied casually.
Dyson gently pushed Maggie aside, glaring at the creature before him. "If I cannae be claimin' the lass then surely you will not, ya satan spawned curd." He bit out, blue-grey eyes burning fury at the fae.
Magalea's sword whispered from its sheath and she stood ready to pounce should either man get any bright ideas. "You are like sniveling little boys fighting over a toy. I'll be goin' now and should either be followin' me you'll rue that decision." And she stormed off, sword drawn, into the forest.
Dyson and Xander stared eachother down but neither moved for fear that she would return to skin them alive. Xander broke the staredown first, looking in the direction she had gone. "Should one of us..."
"If ya liek yer head where t'is I wouldnae be doin' that." Dyson said with raised brow and upturned hands. "But if you invite death and save me the trouble then by all means." He added with a grin, turning for home.
"We are not finished here human." Xander said the last word as if it were the foulest of curses. "The girl is mine."
"Good luck with that boy'o." He said with finality before turning away. Ending a very tense night by disappearing into the forest toward home.