Before we get stuck into today’s post, why don’t you hop on over to The Eclective blog for a super smexy video review of Books That Don’t Suck.
And now, onto the mythos.
My trip to Tenby, Wales continues to inspire me. Despite being eyeball deep in edits for Kissed by Darkness (Pretty sure my Montlake editor – bless her socks – is half demon and half genius), I’m working on a short story which will be in The Eclective’s latest anthology due out in June. And who should make an appearance in said short story, but the fabulous Welsh goddess of love herself, Branwen!
Granted, the years haven’t been so kind to poor Branwen, thanks to a slight cupcake addiction, an annoying neighbor, and a little matter of serious lack of respect from mere mortals. Despite all that Branwen is still a goddess through and through, waning powers or no.
Yet Branwen was anything but lucky in love. The Irish king sued Branwen’s brother for her hand in marriage. Forced into a marriage she didn’t want, Branwen accepted her fate and soon bore the king a son. Still, that wasn’t good enough. The Irish hated her, and so she was soon banished to the kitchens to work as a slave. Nice hubby, huh?
During her captivity, Branwen used her magic to teach a bird to speak, then she sent the bird to Wales to tell her brother, Bran, of her plight. The bird succeeded and Bran came for Branwen, guns a’blazin’!
Okay, not really. More like, uh, swords blazing. Unfortunately, the Welsh lost the ensuing war and Bran himself was killed. Broken hearted, Branwen escaped Ireland, but died shortly after of a broken heart.
My ending is a little different. My Branwen is made of sterner stuff, after all. A goddess die of a broken heart? What ridiculousness. She wouldn’t hear of such a thing!
After all, if you’re dead, how on earth are you going to eat cupcakes?