Welsh Tales from the Mabinogion:
The Tale of Branwen, Daughter of Llŷr

Once upon a time, in the mystical land of Wales, there lived a beautiful princess named Branwen, the daughter of King Llŷr. I am Branwen, and this is the story of my trials, my courage, and the strength of my heart.

I grew up in the magnificent court of my brother, Brân the Blessed, the King of Britain. Our family was known for its strength and unity. My brother Brân was a giant of a man, wise and just, loved by all who knew him. Our other brother, Manawydan, was equally noble and kind. We lived in peace and prosperity, our kingdom flourishing under Brân's rule.

One day, a ship from Ireland arrived at our shores. The Irish king, Matholwch, came to ask for my hand in marriage. He sought to unite our two great kingdoms through our union. My brother Brân, always seeking peace and alliances, agreed to the marriage, and soon I sailed to Ireland to become Matholwch's queen.

At first, my life in Ireland was happy. Matholwch treated me with respect, and the people welcomed me warmly. But trouble brewed beneath the surface. My half-brother, Efnysien, was angry about the marriage, feeling slighted and left out of the decision. In his rage, he killed Matholwch's prized horses, causing a great offense.

Matholwch was furious, but my brother Brân, seeking to mend the rift, offered Matholwch many fine gifts, including a magical cauldron that could bring the dead back to life. Matholwch accepted the gifts, and peace was restored for a time.

However, the Irish court held a grudge against me for Efnysien's actions. Over time, Matholwch's attitude toward me changed, influenced by his courtiers' whispers and resentment. I was treated harshly and eventually reduced to working in the kitchens, a far cry from the queen I once was. My heart was heavy, but I did not lose hope.

Determined to reach my brother Brân, I befriended a starling and trained it to carry a message. I tied a letter to the bird's leg, describing my plight and begging for help. The starling flew across the sea to Wales and found Brân. When my brother read the letter, his heart filled with rage and sorrow. He immediately gathered his army and set sail for Ireland to rescue me.

When Brân's fleet arrived, the sight of his massive figure towering above the ships struck fear into the hearts of the Irish. Matholwch, realizing the gravity of his actions, tried to make amends. He built a house large enough to accommodate Brân and prepared a feast to welcome him.

But treachery was afoot. The Irish hid armed men in flour sacks within the house, planning to ambush Brân and his warriors. Efnysien, always suspicious, discovered the plot and killed the hidden warriors, thwarting the ambush. A fierce battle ensued, and many lives were lost on both sides.

In the chaos, Efnysien, seeking redemption for his earlier actions, sacrificed himself to destroy the magical cauldron, preventing its use by the Irish. The battle raged on, and although my brother Brân was mortally wounded, he managed to ensure my safety and the safety of our people.

With his dying breath, Brân instructed his men to cut off his head and take it back to Britain. He believed that his severed head would continue to provide wisdom and guidance until it was buried on the White Hill in London.

I returned to Wales with my brother's head, deeply mourning the loss of so many loved ones. We buried Brân's head as he wished, and his presence continued to protect and inspire our people.

Despite the hardships I endured, I found strength in my heart and the love of my family. My tale became a story of resilience, courage, and the enduring power of love and loyalty.

The End