Brianna
by Bria

This is actually something that I've had playing around in my head ever since I created the original concept of "Brianna". This is, however, the first time I've written it down. Standard disclaimers...Methos, Kronos and Silas are not mine, they belong to the producers and creators of Highlander. Brianna is mine. I'm hoping to make an entire story of this, kind of a background for my character, and maybe arc her life as the fanfic I do from now on. There would be stories before this time, but this is a pivotal one, so here it is.

The poem was a stanza from MacBeth. I inserted phrases in between lines to make it work, but it is basically the same:
"I have lived long enough: my way of life
Is fallen into the sea, the yellow leaf;
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

Enjoy!

Ireland, 213 AD

Methos shifted his weight as the horse pranced and side-stepped under him. It had been a rough crossing from Britannia and they were both tired.
“Easy, boy,” he murmured, stroking the stallion’s neck gently, but absentmindedly. He gazed through the rising mist at the land he had just entered. He’d never been here before and new places always interested him. The rolling green hills spread out from the beach as far as he could see, but preliminary explorations said that this wasn’t as large an island as the one he’d just left. The horse nickered quietly, and Methos shivered.
“You feel it too, don’t you,” he whispered in the horse’s ear. “There’s something strange about this land. You can feel the magic.” He sat up, surprised at himself, something he never was anymore. He didn’t believe in magic.
“Talking to yourself, brother?” a hearty voice thundered behind him. Methos turned and grinned at Silas.
“Who else is there to talk to? You?” he said raising an eyebrow.
Silas laughed heartily. “You would soon get bored with that, but I think the horse might not be much better.”
Methos smiled at his companion fondly. He liked Silas. He felt protective of him, and would never let anyone hurt him. Thank God they had ditched Caspian finally. Sooner or later that one would have had to be disposed of.
“Shall we go?” Methos asked.
“We ride?”
Methos sighed. This got old sometimes. “Yes, Silas, we ride.”
They left the boat and the beach behind them. Methos sighed again, happy to be out of Roman lands. Army life had never really suited him. Too many rules, but in this day and age, it was the best way to see the world and he needed a change. As dusk fell, Methos and Silas set up camp by the edge of a stream. Methos squatted by it and drank deeply. The water was the sweetest he had ever tasted. Lifting his head, he started to his feet as he heard a lilting melody flow down from upstream.
“What is it brother?” Silas asked, shaking his wet head, which he had just dipped in the stream.
“Do you hear that?” Methos whispered as the song flowed around him, enchanting him.
“There’s nothing there, brother,” Silas said with a frown. Methos paled a bit, because Silas was famous for his excellent hearing.
Shaking his head, he muttered, “I need a drink.”
He proceeded to drink himself into oblivion, and fell into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he saw a girl. She was just ahead of him all the time and no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t catch her. Finally though, she stopped and he grabbed her arm. She spun around, surprised. Her reddish-blond hair caught the sun, and her blue eyes stared up at him, wide, but excited. She acted like they were playing a game, and when she saw him, she laughed in delight. Her eyes looked on him with love and there was an innocence in her eyes that he couldn’t remember seeing before. But underneath the innocence was a sensuality that entrapped him. He leaned in closer and kissed her. Her mouth opened under his, and he lost himself in her sweetness. Lowering her to the ground, he made love to her, while the enchanted music from the stream played around them.
Methos awoke with a start and for a moment couldn’t remember where he was. Very quickly though, Silas’ snores reminded him. He got up, feeling restless and wandered down to the stream. The girl from his dream haunted him. Who was he to dream such dreams? Even if such sweetness existed, it was not for the likes of him.

In the morning, the two set off once again towards their destination. It was midafternoon when they saw the walls of the stone keep. Approaching cautiously, they felt the immortal buzz.
“He’s here,” Silas said.
“Yep,” Methos replied.
“Who goes there?” said a voice from the shadows. Methos recognized the voice immediately.
“Death,” he said with a reckless grin.
“Then come and get it, brother,” Kronos said, stepping from the shade. Methos launched himself from his horse and attacked. The two sparred for some time, laughing with exhilaration. When it appeared that there would be no victor, they breathlessly agreed to put down their swords. Kronos grinned wildly and embraced Methos, lifting him off the ground. “I didn’t think you two would ever get here!”
“Well, travel from Rome isn’t the easiest thing to accomplish, and your directions were a little vague, you know,” Methos said sardonically.
“Come in to the castle, I’ll introduce you to the king. He’s a decent enough sort and the amenities of being his champion are numerous. Plenty of wine and ale, and plenty of women.”
“You mentioned something about charges?”
“Ah yes, the children. Well, they’re promising enough, quick learners. I’m training them as warriors. It’ll stand them in good stead,” Kronos smiled, and Methos was amazed. Kronos actually looked happy.
They entered the walls of the keep and everyone stared. They were all wary, but Methos was shocked at the lack of fear. They respected Kronos, and were nervous around him, like one would be of a wild horse or boar, but not terrified. A few of the maids called out greetings boldly, then blushed as the older women looked at them reprovingly. Just then, Methos felt another buzz, a faint one. A lad of 15 or so came running up.
“Teacher, teacher,” he cried, pulling on Kronos’ sleeve, “come quick. Brianna’s in the tree!!”
“She’s what?” Kronos thundered.
“In the tree! She went up after that damned cat of hers and now is threatening to jump down with it. She’ll break her annoying little neck,” the boy said contemptuously.
“Oh for…Come on,” Kronos snapped.
Looking at each other in bewilderment, Methos and Silas followed Kronos to a tree on the other side of the keep. Another faint buzz met them, the sign of a not yet Immortal. A pair of shapely legs could be seen dangling from the tree.
“Brianna Eileen, get down this instant!” Kronos bellowed.
“I’m trying,” a very put-out voice said from the leaves. “Should I jump?”
“You’ll hurt yourself, Bri,” another boy said from the base of the tree. “You should have let Alex get the kitten.”
“Alex wants to drown the kitten,” the girl’s voice snapped. Methos wandered over to the tree to look up at it’s occupant. “Oh never mind,” the voice continued, “here I come.” And she did.
“oomph,” Methos exclaimed as she landed on top of him. Red gold hair fell over his face. A giggle came from somewhere above.
“Sorry,” the girl said in a lilting voice. She pushed herself off of him, and he looked up at her. And gasped. Bright blue eyes gazed down at him, laughing, set in the face of the girl of his dream. Younger, but most definitely her. She reached down a hand and helped him up. “Are you Kronos’ friend?” He managed to nod. “The scholar or the, uh, fighter?” she finished tactfully.
“Both,” he whispered.
“Ah, then you are to teach us language and mathematics and science, yes?” her eyes were eager. Methos looked at Kronos, who had a small smile on his face.
“Do you want me to?” he asked warily.
“Oh yes, please!” the girl cried, jumping up and down.
“Well, then,” he began, gathering his thoughts.
“Princess, princess!” a large woman came running from the castle. “Princess, how could you, get back in the keep this instant. You’re mother is furious.”
The girl, Brianna, bit her lip. Then smiling at Methos, she hurried away. He gazed at her longingly as she left, then shook his head.
“Impossible,” he muttered.

A few days later they were in the courtyard going over Latin verbs. The boys had wandered off, bored, but Brianna remained, absorbing all Methos had to tell her.
“What’s it like to be Immortal?” she asked. “Kronos said we will be one day. What’s it like?” she repeated.
Methos sighed as he looked at her bright, young face. “Lonely.”
“But the places you must have seen and been! The things you have done!”
Methos shuddered as he thought of those things. He said sadly, “I have lived long enough, I sometimes think. My way of life, the one I knew, is fallen into the sea. I do not have old age, nor that which should accompany old age, as honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, for what I have been, in their stead, curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.”
Brianna looked at him, and tears welled up in her eyes, “How terribly sad.”
He looked at her and softly touched her cheek. “But such will not be your fate, my princess, for you are an angel, or a fairy, I think, and only good will come to you.”
“Then if I have such magic powers, I make this decree. From now on, only good shall come to you,” she smiled at him, and covered his hand with her own. He shuddered at her touch.
“I’d like to believe you, my princess, but I think it is too late for me.”
“It’s never too late,” she said softly. Looking at him through her lashes, she came to a decision. She reached up and pulled his head down, kissing him softly on the mouth. He froze, and she pulled back with a smile. “I think Eire is just what you need. And me. It’s time you learned how to live Methos. I will teach you, as you have taught me.”
Methos looked at the determination in her eyes and felt a faint flicker of life for the first time in centuries.
“I think perhaps you will at that, princess,” he murmured softly.


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