The Morrigan, The Phantom Queen
When An Fiach Drua ' The Supernatural Raven' calls, all men stop and listen. Her very call quickens the pulse of even the most stoic of men, her detached and penetrating gaze piercing him to his very soul. He can feel her soft bloody palms caress the wild ghost which stirs within his beating breast... And from this pleasure; this pain. Most will fall upon their knees. She is femininity at its most pure and primal. Dark and lustful, alluring, tender and cruel. She is both the freezing water and the raging heat of the wildfire unconstrained! She is the Morrigan...
None can truly understand. These men are hers, and hers alone. They might have wives and mothers, ...even daughters... But should she call, they will answer without question, without hesitation. They would abandon all they hold most dear in life for her primal desire. She is Mother, lover, child to be nurtured and protected. Loved above all others... But! This is not what she desires. No, she desires only the freedom of these, her men; even from herself. And so she does not call to them except when she must. She only calls when all appears lost, no other choice remaining. Only then, when the pressures upon her beloved men appear too overwhelming, too vast to overcome will she softly whisper her desire in his ear. As she does so she ignites within them their desires, their lust, the inherent power present in all the men of Eire wherever they might be.
As Queen of Laguin she is in possession of only the most dark, mysterious and dreadful of powers. The power of the heart. Yet, though her power is vast; a power with which the earth itself would open at her request swallowing entire legions whole, drowning them in stone and root, mud and peat, with but the slightest of whispers or wave of a hand. She can, but she will not. How could she steal from these fine men of the Gaelic tribes; these men she loves so dearly, their full glory, their might?! To her, victory or defeat should be mans alone. This is his realm. The realm of WAR! War for right! War for love! War for... the sake of war. This is no small matter, even for a God such as herself to meddle in. And so she does not.
Her heart? Her heart belongs solely to those few heroes whose might shows true and shining, above that of other true men. From among these men she takes to herself; gifting to them and to her tribes from her very own womb, heroes of true might and courage, most cunning and swift. When this cannot be done; as during some ages there are no heroes to be had, she seeks company in the arms of The Good God, Dagda. He whose offspring she then also bequeaths to man, without his knowing of any bearing of course. Orphans of war and of the wilds. These are among her sacred gifts.
Have you not heard of The Marauders? Her dear children? Followers of the Queen of the Mounds for whom the ravens watch and the wolves seek? Her children who slay false kings and craven 'nobility' alike? Those who know neither boundary nor border whether it be by land or sea? Those who wage war against the unjust and those who support them however tacitly? Raiders, and killers all! Well, that is to be expected I suppose as they have been known by many names and slandered by more.
Her sisters Babd The Battle Crow, and Macha The Grandmother, none bear her more enmity nor loyalty. Each loving the men of these lands 'in their own way' but none more so, more savagely than The Morrigan. For these men her kindness, her cruelty knows no bounds. Some may claim her a Dark Queen but we know the truth:
"Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Dawn! Treacherous as the Seas! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love me and despair!" - The Morrigan Great Queen