Llewellyn and the Powys Princess Read online

n and the Powys Princess

  By Kate Everson

  Copyright 2011 Kate Everson

  When Llewellyn was just a boy in Wales, he met his princess for the first time. She was 11 and he was 13. They were playing in the hills of Powys, the land his father claimed as his kingdom.

  Ruella had long, red hair and the most amazing blue eyes. She just had to look at Llewellyn once and he was smitten.

  He caught her hand and dropped to his knee.

  “I’ll love you forever!” he declared.

  And Ruella laughed like a tinkling bell resonating through the valley. She tossed her hair and ran down the hill, hopping over stones and looking back to see if he was following. Of course, he was.

  Llewellyn followed her to the stream and grabbed her arm, but she broke free and went splashing in the water. She dove underneath like a mermaid and Llewellyn dove after her. They both came up laughing, the water streaming down their faces.

  Ruella’s red hair was soaking wet and she pushed it aside to look at Llewellyn.

  “You can’t love me forever!” she laughed. “I won’t live that long!”

  But Llewellyn put his arms around her waist and looked straight into her dancing eyes. All the depth of a 13-year-old boy’s emotions were written in his soulful expression as he vowed that he meant every word he said.

  “I will love you until the day you die,” he stated firmly. “And after that, I will find you again and we will always be together.”

  Llewellyn did not even know where the words came from, but he felt them so deeply he knew they must be true. There was something about this girl that spoke straight to his heart. He knew he could not lose her.

  They climbed the hill of Dinas Bran together, hand in hand. At the top they played among the stone ruins of the ancient castle of Powys and laughed when the wind almost blew them away! This was to be their special reunion place, many years later, but for now it was just fun being children and enjoying the day.

  There was so much history in this land of the Welsh, and Llewellyn was proud to be part of it. His father and his father’s father had held the kingdom for many years, always threatened by warring tribes but never defeated.

  Beneath them, in the valley far below, were farm houses where small families made a living off tending their sheep. The lambs in spring were beautiful to see, and Llewellyn had fond memories of chasing them over the hills back to their flock. He was a sturdy lad, even as a boy, and the sun shone on his face and gave him the appearance of a robust cherub.

  “Ah, Ruella, I love this land so much,” he said as he stood on top of the stones. “I hope some day to take my place among its leaders, as King of Powys.”

  “And you would be a wonderful King,” Ruella laughed. “But not yet!”

  She leaped up to the top of a ruin and called to him, “I am the King of the castle and you’re the dirty rascal!”

  Llewellyn laughed and raced up to the top to stand beside her.

  “I am the King,” he declared in a big voice.

  But then he reached out to her and would not let go. “And you are my Queen,” he added softly.

  Ruella smiled and her heart beat wildly. Some day, she would be a Queen!

  The two spent many afternoons together in their village of Llangollen along the River Dee. Sometimes when they climbed the hill to Dinas Bran, they saw fairies just disappearing over the other side!

  “I almost caught one once,” Llewellyn said.

  “You what?” Ruella asked, incredulous.

  “I did,” he stated, and his eyes glanced around to see if any were listening.

  “Well, then, what did you do with it?” Ruella questioned. She did not believe him for an instant. But what if …?

  Suddenly, there was a tinkling sound on the other side of the hill, to the east.

  “There’s one now!” Llewellyn shouted. “Let’s get it!”

  He grabbed her hand and together they raced down the hill, looking everywhere for the fairies. All they saw were a couple of goats with bells around their necks.

  But Llewellyn was not one to miss an opportunity. He grabbed Ruella and brought her beside him behind a hawthorn bush.

  “Wait!” he said. “They are onto us. We have to wait and pretend we’re not here. They might come back!”

  So the two children huddled behind a hawthorn bush until the clouds started sprinkling bits of rain all over them. Ruella shivered and Llewellyn held her close. They could feel each other’s heart beating. Llewellyn had a strange smile on his face and his eyes were lit up like jewels.

  “We should go,” Ruella said.

  But Llewellyn held her more tightly.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Wait. They still might be coming back.”

  And Llewellyn in all his 13 years of life had never had such a beautiful moment. He felt Ruella’s closeness as she clung to him. He treasured the touch of her hair on his cheek. It felt soft like the wool of a new lamb. When she looked up at him, her blue eyes held the mysteries of the heavens, opening up to him for the first time.

  Ruella’s petite 11-year-old body was just beginning to blossom. She was strong and limber from playing in the hills all day, but there was already a hint of the woman she would become. And in her heart, she was already there.

  “I feel so close to you,” she whispered snuggling in against the dampness.

  He laughed.

  “I mean close in spirit,” she blurted out. “Not just close in body.”

  And this time he didn’t laugh.

  “I know,” he said. “I feel the same way.”

  Something happened to them that day as they clung together behind the hawthorn bush. Perhaps it was the magic of Castell Dinas Bran. Or the tinkling of the bells. Or maybe it was fairy dust they picked up along the way.

  Over the next few days, weeks and months they would see each other many times and grow closer and closer. His eyes grew darker and his muscles stronger as he turned from a boy to a man. Within a year, he was challenging others much bigger than him to fights and duels with swords, and winning. He was living up to his father’s name.

  Ruella, on the other hand, became softer. She learned to weave wool into beautiful garments and make goat cheese and bake bread to cook on the hearth. But all the time, she thought about Llewellyn. When she couldn’t see him, it caused her anguish. She felt she belonged to him.

  The months turned into years and the pair were bonded so closely that even Llewellyn’s father made note of it.

  “Getting ready for a princess, are you?” he joshed.

  Llewellyn looked shy but he did not back down.

  “She is my princess,” he said softly. “Now and forever.”

  But war came to the tiny land of Powys and Llewellyn was called into service to his kingdom. Dressed in the armour of his father’s realm, he wore triple dragons on his shield. The sword in his hand was made of pure steel, formed by the hand of the blacksmith at the forge. The hilt gleamed in bronze and obsidian, with a winged griffon for courage.

  “A sword for a prince!” the blacksmith had declared, upon giving it to Llewellyn. “You will conquer many lands with this one.”

  “I hope only to keep the land we have,” Llewellyn said. “I ask only for that.”

  The kingdom of Powys stretched from the River Dee to the ocean. There were always feuding tribes trying to claim it for their own and it was an ongoing battle just to remain in control.

  “I give this kingdom to you, Llewellyn,” his father said. “You are the one who will keep this land. Fight for it!“

  And Llewellyn bowed to his father and mounted his black steed and went into battle. The fight raged for years and Llewellyn was fearless. He
was bloodied but ferocious, and helped win back the land of his father.

  It was coming home from his last battle, many years later, that he found Ruella once again. She was a beautiful maiden, and he saw her walking to market along the same path he rode his horse. Not knowing who she was, he asked if she needed help. When she looked up, those brilliant blue eyes brought back that light into his own. He knew her! She was the princess of his dreams.

  “Ruella?” he asked. “Is that you?”

  She looked up, startled. Who knew her along this path?

  “Yes, I am Ruella,” she said softly. “And who might you be?”

  He leaped down off his horse and went right up to her.

  “It’s Llewellyn,” he said. “Don’t you remember?”

  She stared intensely at him for a minute, then the light appeared in her eyes. She laughed.

  “Oh, it is you, my forever prince!” she laughed.

  “Yes, it is!” he said seriously, and he tried to take her in his arms but she drew back.

  She wasn’t too sure about this young man, although he did look very handsome. His dark, curly hair clung to his neck and his arms were bronzed by the sun. She could feel his strength, even from a distance. It frightened her, but at the same time, she was thrilled by it.

  ‘I … I … don’t know you that well,” she stuttered, backing away.

  So Llewellyn got down on one knee and smiled up at her. “I am your forever prince,” he smiled.

  That made Ruella laugh. Yes, it was the same old Llewellyn!

  She gave him a quick hug, and was amazed at how it took her breath away. She had never felt such power in a man. It seemed to draw her in, like a magnet. She could barely breathe.

  “Oh my,” she whispered. “Oh. My.”

  Llewellyn smiled a big, broad smile. He looked even more handsome. His skin shone like gold and he seemed every bit a knight in shining armour. He was indeed a prince.

  “Can I help?” he asked. This time she nodded. He reached down and gathered her up in his strong arms and put her on his horse. They rode off towards the village where Ruella lived with her aunt. Her parents had died in the wars two years ago.

  When they got to the thatched cottage, Llewellyn leaped off and offered Ruella his hand. She took it gratefully, and when she slid down off the horse, she brushed so close to Llewellyn she could feel his heart beat.

  She felt a little dizzy. But she asked him to come in.

  They sat by the fire and drank a dark herbal brew and talked about what had happened to them in the years they had been apart. Their lives had been so different. But the magic between them had not diminished, only grown stronger with time.

  “I wish I had something more to offer you,” Ruella said, “but we have so little here.”

  She looked around at the shabby cottage and felt sad.

  Llewellyn took her hands and reassured her. “Ruella, you have more than enough of what matters. You are so beautiful and have a brilliant soul. I will make you my princess.”

  She gasped and did not know what to say.

  But he held her hands patiently and waited.

  “Yes,” she smiled. “Yes, Llewellyn, my forever love, yes.”

  It had all happened so fast, but true love is like a shooting star and lights up the sky as it goes. Their love lasted for many more years and it was amazing.

  Ruella became Princess Ruella and she shared their castle for many years, and each year was even more glorious. But all good things must come to an end, right?

  Before she was 40, Ruella caught the plague that was sweeping through the valley and in days she was on her death bed. Llewellyn stood by her and cursed the foe he could not beat.

  “I will love you forever,” he said to her as she lay dying.

  Her last words were, “We will meet again, my prince …”

  In another lifetime, a girl sat in the ruins of a castle on a hill in Wales and longed for her prince. She vaguely held a memory of someone that she had loved more than anyone in her whole life. Who was he and where was he now? One day he appeared to her, like a shadow in the mist. He was tall and unearthly, but he wore a long black cloak and in his eyes was the light of the stars.

  “I am here,” he smiled at her.

  Rebekah, for that was her name in this lifetime, was startled to see the vision. But she knew instantly that it was the Prince of Powys who had come back for her.

  She looked up and smiled into Llewellyn’s face and felt her heart go out to him. This forever love would never end.

  The End

  See more at: Rebekah and the Powys Prince, and Rebekah in Wales.