In Joy and Woe, as in a Doubtful Ease (7/7)
Part Six
By the second afternoon bell, a veritable army of stable-hands brought around a corresponding number of horses. The knights of both kingdoms were making last-minute alterations to their saddles, their minds focused on the task that lay ahead of them in the next few hours.
Three horses had been led to an area slightly apart from the rest, two of which were Arthur’s own horse and Merlin’s. The third, a gentle grey mare, was likely Elaine’s, Arthur presumed. He kept his attention on his own mount, doing his best to studiously ignore the hushed, fevered words passing between his cousin and her husband. He only allowed himself to look up when he noticed Pellinore lifting Elaine up into her saddle - she was riding side-saddle, which Arthur assumed was to minimize the jarring of Elaine’s body, and thus hopefully not cause too much disruption for the babe in her belly.
He was subsequently distracted by a series of grumbled curses, and Arthur turned toward Merlin’s horse. Emrys was having some problems mounting the animal, and Arthur instinctively stepped forward. Merlin’s horse was temperamental to just about anyone but Merlin, snapping at anyone else who came too close. The animal had even bitten Arthur at one point. However, he stopped in his tracks when he saw that the horse wasn’t shying away from the old sorcerer, but was in fact standing still with surprisingly good grace while Emrys clawed his way up.
That was… interesting, to say the least.
Shrugging off the strange occurrence, Arthur turned back to his own horse and mounted it with ease. He maneuvered his horse to flank Elaine’s, and allowed her to lead the way out. The knights were also mounting as they left, though Arthur knew they wouldn’t be following. Instead, Pellinore would lead them out one of the less noticeable exits of the city and circle around, just as planned.
The ride through the city was silent, and the three of them - Emrys had led Merlin’s horse to ride alongside Arthur’s - were the subject of many stares from the people they passed. Word had no doubt leaked out as to what had happened. A murder and the kidnapping of their regent’s children - it would have been impossible to keep such happenings out of the public conscious.
Eventually, though, they passed out of Tintagel and began moving along the road away from the coast. Elaine still did not begin any conversation and Arthur was loath to disturb her when she seemed so deep in thought.
That left Emrys, who had also been quiet for some time. He was staring straight ahead as his horse bore him forward, his eyes sweeping the land in front of them. “So,” Arthur said before he could talk himself out of it, “it’s rather providential that you’re here in Cornwall.”
The old man glanced in his direction. “I go where I’m needed,” he replied shortly.
Arthur nodded as though it was far more profound. “My sister mentioned you when I confronted her in Camelot,” he continued. “She seems under the impression that… you are protecting me.”
Again, the older man didn’t appear inclined to be overly elaborate in his responses. “Why would I protect a man who has tried to kill me and has had a bounty on my head for the past nine months?”
Arthur flinched inwardly. Gaius had told him that Emrys wasn’t responsible for his father’s death, that his injuries had just been too severe, even for magic. Arthur had been certain that there was more to the story, more than Gaius was telling him, and that thought had so consumed him that he’d never rescinded the bounty that had been posted in the days after his father’s death and Arthur’s coronation. “I,” he started, paused, and then forced himself to continue, “I’m sorry. I’ve known for some time that you were not responsible for the loss of my father. Such a lapse is inexcusable. If it means anything, I swear I will cancel the bounty on my return home.”
Now Emrys turned to look at him. His eyes, sharp and aware and strangely familiar despite the deep age lines surrounding him, were like knives, sinking into Arthur’s very being, but he forced himself not to look away. He knew a test when he saw one.
Finally, the older man smiled slightly and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’m quite capable of defending myself from greedy fools, though I suppose it would be nice to not have to deal with them at all. Thank you, Sire.”
Silence fell for a short time after that, filled only by the grinding of earth beneath the hooves of their horses. Arthur continued to glance at his companion, something else still gnawing at him. “I also feel I should apologize for how I behaved when my father… died.” It was difficult, even now, to recall those minutes in his father’s chamber. “I wanted magic to save my father, and then behaved abominably when it did not give me what I desired.”
“That is why magic should be used with the utmost care,” Emrys responded, his voice becoming uncharacteristically gentle. “It is a powerful force, but its use can have unintended consequences. I attempted to use magic to heal your father without knowing all of the facts, allowing my desire for a world without persecution to cloud my judgment.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Facts?”
The older man nodded. “Yes. I learned later that a pendant had been planted on your father’s body, a pendent that had been enchanted to take any magic performed on its wearer and twist its intentions. When I attempted to heal your father…”
“… it killed him instead,” Arthur finished, horrified. He opened his mouth to demand who had done this despicable thing, but the answer came to him so easily that he said nothing. Agravaine. Morgana.
It seemed that the crime of patricide could be added to the list of crimes perpetuated by his half-sister, even if she was aided by his uncle.
“Yes,” Emrys confirmed, unaware of the thoughts running through Arthur’s mind. He hesitated a moment, clearly considering whether to continue, but then spoke again. “I should also apologize to you, Sire, for my part in what happened. I was wrong to have made my help conditional on you repealing the laws against magic. You should see for yourself that magic is not evil, not extorted into restoring it. I’m sorry.”
Arthur nodded thoughtfully and let the silence fall over them again. His world had become immeasurably complicated over the years and although not all of it could be laid at magic’s door, enough of it could. He would have to consider again what Emrys had wanted of him, and do it with a much clearer head than he had the last time. Back then, he had been desperate to preserve his father’s life, to give himself more time with a father who, if Arthur was honest with himself, had been dying a long, drawn out death ever since Morgause had plucked the crown from his head. Now, he was in a position to reflect on the matter more impartially.
It wasn’t going to happen now, however. Their party of three had at last reached the forest, and the last leg of their journey was coming to an end. As they approached the clearing Morgana had specified, the sound of raised voices caught their attention.
Tintagel
An express rider arrived from Camelot, bearing letters, including one from Ygraine. Vivienne gave birth three weeks ago on what the farmers were calling the first day of spring - another girl, who she has named Morgana.
The birth was difficult, much more than the first one, Ygraine informed me. The midwives have even admitted that it’s unlikely that Vivienne will ever bear any more children. She also informed me that Vivienne again experienced several visions throughout the pregnancy and during the birth itself, although they were much less pronounced this time. According to Ygraine, Vivienne just kept whispering that they were wrong about something or someone, that it was the ‘wrong one’, which just served to confuse everyone. Still, for all that this child will be her only one, Ygraine writes that Vivienne is doting on Morgana, and that it seems to have eased some of the constant tension between her and Gorlois, since he too adores the baby girl.
Ygraine said nothing of Uther’s reaction to the baby, for which I wasn’t sure to be concerned or grateful. I also could detect something of a strangled envy and sadness in the letter. Ygraine has yet to have any sign of being pregnant after nearly five years of marriage, and watching one cousin have a baby and hearing of another’s pregnancy doesn’t seem to have been easy for her.
My poor cousin. I hope the gods will be good to her and give her what she longs for.
The three reined in their horses, and Arthur quietly dismounted. He opened his mouth to tell Emrys and Elaine to wait with their mounts while he scouted out what lay ahead, but before he could say a word, Emrys was off his horse - with considerably more grace than when he had gotten on the animal - and hurrying over to Elaine. The old man held out his hands to her and helped ease her down onto the ground. Arthur sighed quietly, resigning himself to them accompanying him in a potentially dangerous situation - he just hoped Pellinore didn’t discover it.
They crept forward, Arthur in the lead and with his sword drawn. They kept as low to the ground as they could, using the foliage of the forest to mask their presence. He was actually quite surprised at how quietly his companions were able to move - an old man and a pregnant woman could hardly be considered the most agile of people. Yet, they did so. Perhaps it was just because Arthur was used to being accompanied by Merlin, who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘stealth’.
When they finally reached the edge of the clearing, Arthur came to a stop, peering through the leaves of a thick set of bushes. He scarcely noticed Elaine and Emrys coming up beside him to also see what lay in front of them.
The clearing was fairly large, several yards in diameter. There was a dark spot of soot and ash in the center, indicating there had been a fire, and one of some size too. There was a single horse, as well as two silent, black-clad men on the opposite side of the clearing, but it was the two women that caught his attention.
Morgana was there, clad in the rough, homespun dress and overcoat that seemed to have become her clothing of choice in recent years. If anything, though, she appeared even more ragged and wild than she had in the council chamber of Camelot. Her hair was a nest of tangles and tattered black and green ribbons, and her green eyes had a strange, feral gleam to them, one he had never seen before, not even when they stood but inches from one another in Camelot.
Equally shocking was the other person present in the clearing. Princess Vevay was clad in the same dress he’d seen her wearing yesterday, though it appeared rather rumpled and dirt-stained. Her grey hair fell loose down her back, still thick despite her age, down past her hips.
“… return my grandchildren, at once!” Vevay was saying, her voice full of venom.
Morgana shook her head. “I’ll return them when your daughter hands me Arthur and Merlin, and not a moment before,” she replied, her hands twitching along the lines of her dust-coated skirt. Her eyes repeatedly swept the clearing, but she didn’t seem to have been alerted to Arthur’s and his companions’ presence. “Once I cut their throats, I can claim my rightful inheritance,” she muttered, more to herself than to Vevay. “There won’t be anyone left to rally the foolish commoners against me as they did before.”
Her rambling may have been soft-spoken, but Arthur heard her clearly enough, to say nothing of Vevay. The older woman’s expression flushed with anger. “By what right do you claim Camelot as your rightful inheritance, child?” she demanded.
Morgana blinked, clearly surprised to be asked such a question. “I am Uther’s firstborn, his eldest child -”
“You are the bastard daughter of two people who could not control their basest urges,” Vevay snapped, cutting her off. Arthur was amazed, both at how coherent she sounded and at her words. He’d never known anyone who would have dared speak so to Morgana, not if they didn’t want to receive a harsh slap to the face for it. At the very least.
“Much as I loved my sister,” the older woman continued, “Vivienne had a voracious sexual appetite that resulted in the conception of two girls by two different men, neither of which were her husband.” Her eyes were dark and firm. “Bastards don’t inherit kingdoms, Morgana, especially when they have half-brothers born in wedlock and are officially proclaimed heir.”
Arthur didn’t know who to stare at more, Vevay for actually having the courage to say all of this to Morgana’s face, or Morgana to try and predict when she would lose complete control of herself. Given the way her clenched fists were shaking at her sides, he didn’t think it would be long.
Vevay didn’t appear to notice, because she kept right on speaking. “If you had kept your mouth shut about the truth of your parentage, you would have stood to inherit Gorlois’ lands and wealth, which I believe were sizable.” She shook her head. “But by revealing yourself as Uther’s child, you wrecked any claim you could have made to any of that.” An expression that was both grim and bitter crossed her face. “Clearly, Morgause did nothing but fill your head with delusions of grandeur. Perhaps it was for the best that you killed her. The priestesses ruined her, just as I knew they would.”
Arthur couldn’t help but cringe. Was Vevay actually asking for death?!
“I didn’t kill Morgause!” Morgana’s voice was shrill.
Perhaps Vevay would have continued to argue with her, but didn’t get a chance. Much to Arthur’s shock, Elaine pushed herself to her feet using both him and Emrys’ shoulders to bolster herself, and stormed through the brush. “That isn’t what you told me, Morgana,” she snarled.
Both Vevay and Morgana whirled to face her, their eyes wide with astonishment. Neither of them looked past her, so Arthur was fairly certain that their surprise had made Morgana forget that he and Merlin were supposed to be accompanying Elaine.
“You stabbed her on the Isle of the Blessed,” Elaine continued, her tone full of fury. “You used her blood as a sacrifice to open the veil between worlds, to avenge your wounded vanity. You killed Morgause, and it was all for nothing!” The last word left Elaine’s mouth in a shout.
“It was Merlin!” Morgana’s voice was just as loud. “He hurt her so badly that she was dying! He -”
“It was a battle, Morgana,” Elaine interrupted again, sounding somewhat calmer now, colder. “Merlin defended himself and those around him. Morgause sought to kill him. What was he supposed to do? Stand there and let her? Is his life so worthless that he should just give it up simply because it’s convenient for you?” There was a brief pause, and then she added in a harsh whisper, “He didn’t kill our sister. You did.”
The sharp, high-pitched scream that tore itself free from Morgana’s throat rang in Arthur’s ears. Before he could react, a knife appeared in Morgana’s hand. For one horrible moment, he thought she was going to rush at Elaine, hacking and stabbing, but when she raised her arm, he realized that it was much worse.
He struggled to his feet, Emrys also rising next to him.
The knife flew from Morgana’s hand, straight at Elaine.
Arthur and Emrys burst into the clearing, but they were too slow, much too slow. They’d never reach Elaine in time.
They’d forgotten about Vevay, though. She moved with a speed that belied her age, throwing herself against her daughter. The impact was enough to knock Elaine out of the knife’s path, but not enough to get Vevay clear.
The knife sank into soft flesh. There was no scream, only a grunt.
Arthur kept moving, his momentum carrying him forward. The two guards, who had been forgotten in the chaos, suddenly appeared, their own swords drawn as they approached Arthur. Arthur’s own sword was up and prepared to meet his opponents’ blows, almost of its own volition. Not for the first time, part of him marveled at this sword that had come from the stone, mired deep in myth and legend. It felt like it had been made especially for him, had been forged with his very being in mind. The steel seemed to sing as it parried the blades of the two men, and Arthur surged forward, confident in his skills as well as the sword. He caught one of the men in the stomach, slicing it open, and the other in the head, smashing the pommel into his skull.
Even as his opponents fell, defeated, Arthur didn’t let his guard down. Morgana was still present, and she was infinitely more of a threat than two men with swords, however skilled they might be. He whirled, his sword still held at the ready -
- and froze. Arthur had lost track of Emrys when he had focused on the guards, but clearly the old man had not been idle. His hand was outstretched, and he had a fierce, deadly expression on his bearded face as he glared across the clearing. Arthur followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped. Morgana also stood there, in much the same position with her hand thrown out in Emrys’ direction. Her own expression was a myriad of different emotions - fear, rage, shock, just to name a few. There were no sparks, no grand display of magic between them as there had been when Glynis had used her own power, but Arthur could still almost feel the extreme pressure being exerted between their two hands. He had no doubt that the loser of such a battle of wills and power would feel that crushing weight.
“Why do you continue to plague me, Emrys?” Morgana hissed.
“Because you clearly need plagued,” he snarled right back. “You kidnapped two innocent children, Morgana! You -”
It happened quickly, but Arthur still saw it coming. While Morgana kept one hand pointed at Emrys, she raised the other in a violent jerk. Instantly, a fallen tree stump rose into the air and shot toward the old man. Arthur opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before a single sound could leave his mouth, Emrys bellowed something. It was some kind of spell, something destructive, because a bolt of light raced out of the old man’s other hand and met the stump head-on.
The resulting explosion both blinded Arthur for several seconds as well as knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, but didn’t feel anything in his body give in the face of the impact. Despite being stunned, Arthur forced himself to sit up as quickly as possible, blinking rapidly to clear his vision of the spots that clouded it. He looked for Emrys first, and saw him lying several feet away, his hand rubbing his head as he shook it blearily. Arthur thought he looked all right, if shaken.
Satisfied, Arthur began to examine the rest of the immediate area. There, some distance away and slumped at the base of a thick tree, was Morgana. The explosion, either by accident or by design, had been closer to her than to him and Emrys. She was barely conscious, if at all.
As Arthur slowly realized that the situation was secure, he began to relax. It was then that another sound began to penetrate his mind - the sound of weeping.
Elaine. Vevay.
He turned quickly, and found them where Elaine had been standing during her confrontation with Morgana - had that really only been moments ago? They were on the ground, Elaine cradling Vevay against her. As Arthur stared at them, he began to register the blood pouring out around the imbedded knife stuck in Vevay’s chest. There was also a faint spray of crimson coming from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. The blade must have penetrated one of her lungs, Arthur realized, a sick feeling crawling into his gut.
These were mortal wounds. Even if they could get Vevay to a healer or physician right now, there would be little for them to do. She was beyond help.
Tears trailed down Elaine’s cheeks as she held onto her mother tightly. “Mother,” she sobbed, holding her close. She attempted to speak further, but her grief appeared to have closed her throat against speech.
Vevay’s eyes were growing dimmer, but she seemed to be focusing every bit of concentration that she had left on the face of her daughter. She raised a trembling, bloodstained hand up to Elaine’s face, her fingers trailing along her cheek and leaving a streak of red in their wake. “My… girl,” she wheezed.
An endless moment, and Vevay’s eyes drifted closed.
Her hand dropped to the ground beside her.
Tintagel
It is just my luck that my child would come right in the middle of the harvest, one of the busiest times of the year, but I find that I don’t really mind. My daughter has arrived, my Elaine. Many people say that newborns are ugly when they first arrive, and their features smooth out later and become pretty, but I don’t agree. Elaine is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.
Tristan, I think, agrees with me. As I write this, he is sitting by our daughter’s cradle, cooing and playing with her. He has sent the nurses out, leaving us alone, our little family. He isn’t disappointed at all that Elaine isn’t a son, since most men usually prefer boys to girls, but is instead worshipping her.
My girl. She is so beautiful.
Life, I believe, is never going to be any more wonderful than this, being alone and content with my husband and child, enjoying each other’s company and taking a moment to block out the cares that await us all outside the door. Tristan won’t be able to stay with us long, since he is overseeing the harvest in my place. My lords grumbled a bit, as they usually prefer to deal with me, their true ruler, rather than my consort, but I think they will keep their mouths shut for now. They have experience dealing with their wives after childbirth, and no one wants to antagonize a woman after she has just gone through such a trial.
It may be selfish of me, but I wish Tristan and I could have more time like this, where we have only to content ourselves with each other and our daughter, where we don’t have to worry about the outside world.
It’s not just here in Cornwall that matters demand our constant attention, either. News is pouring in from Camelot, where things are growing more and more unstable. The lack of an heir is making people bold in challenging Uther and his authority. Some of his lords have even grown a bit obstinate, but the chief problem is coming from those who use magic. Magicians are causing problems, tormenting the neighbors they feud with, cheating at the gaming tables in the taverns and causing brawls in the streets, and all the like. Uther’s knights are being run ragged trying to quell the problems.
Elaine continued to cry, burying her face in her mother’s hair for several moments. Sheathing his sword, Arthur slowly knelt down beside his cousin and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He had never known his mother, but he had still mourned her. How much worse must it be for Elaine, who had known her mother all her life and had known what it was to be treasured by that woman?
After several silent minutes, Elaine finally looked up. Her cheeks were stained with her tears and her eyes were red and bloodshot. Nonetheless, she still allowed Arthur to help her lay Vevay down on the ground. Once the princess was laid out, Arthur stood up and unclipped his cape. He then carefully draped it over Vevay’s body, and had covered her just as there was a commotion on the other side of the clearing, the sound of several sets of boots tramping through the undergrowth.
Arthur turned and placed himself between the others and the approaching group, unsheathing his sword once more. If Morgana had reinforcements, then it would be him - and possibly Emrys - against an unknown number of assailants and -
A flash of blue caught his eye just before several of Cornwall’s knights crashed through the brush, their own swords drawn and held ready. When they saw Arthur, they lowered their swords and stepped aside, allowing those behind them to also enter the clearing. As Arthur placed his own sword back in its sheath, he also breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Cador, Samuel, Leon, and Gwaine appear with the others. Then, just behind them, came Pellinore, who held Marcus tightly by the hand while carrying Aileen on his other arm. Both children were a bit dusty and dirt-stained, but appeared unharmed. Aileen had also been crying recently, and seemed determined to cling to her father at all costs.
Arthur watched as Marcus’ eyes swept the immediate area, and then widened. “Mother!”
Pellinore’s eyes grew huge as well as he spotted his wife. “Elaine!” He hurried forward, sweeping past Arthur without so much as a glance in his direction. Arthur turned and really paused to look at his cousin. Her hair was askew, and her dress was covered in blood. Small wonder they were so alarmed.
“I-I’m all right,” Elaine assured them, her voice still shaking. Marcus pressed himself against her, wrapping an arm around her waist and encouraging her to lean on him. “It’s not my blood,” she murmured and her eyes drifted down to the ground where Arthur’s cape covered her mother’s body.
The knights of Cornwall spread throughout the clearing, obviously intent on securing the immediate area. Arthur’s own knights took that moment to approach him. “What happened here, Arthur?” Gwaine asked, his voice low, his eyes darting toward the covered figure on the ground. “Who is that?”
Arthur sighed. “Princess Vevay,” he responded, pitching his voice low so that they’re not overheard. He quietly explained the reasons for the princess’ unexpected presence, until his eyes caught sight of another disturbance near the tree where Morgana still lay. A group of four cloaked figures appeared and were speaking with Emrys and two of the Cornwall knights, one of which was Bedwyr. Glancing in the direction of Elaine, Arthur saw that she too had noticed their presence. She started toward them, still holding onto Marcus with one hand and Pellinore and Aileen with the other. Arthur followed them.
As they all approached, the four individuals reached up almost as one and lowered their hoods. There were three men, one woman, all exuding a strange quiet peace that was distinctly at odds with the atmosphere of rage and violence and death that lingered over the clearing.
It was the Druids, the ones Emrys sent Merlin to find. Merlin.
“Where’s Merlin?” The words slipped out of his mouth before Arthur could stop him.
The leader of the four stared at him intently, and Arthur realized that he recognized him. They had met before, first when he had returned the little Druid boy to his people, and then when he, Gwaine, and Merlin had sought the Cup of Life and Arthur had held his sword to another child’s throat. Not one of his best moments, and one he had been heartily ashamed of in the aftermath.
As though sensing his thoughts, the leader bowed his head in his direction. Greetings, Arthur Pendragon. The words echoed in Arthur’s mind, and he struggled not to flinch. There was no anger, no resentment in the tone, no disapproval over past actions. It was humbling and troubling at the same time.
The leader turned his attention to Elaine and bowed to her as well, introducing himself as Iseldir. “We came at Emrys’ request,” he added, glancing at the old man. Arthur glanced between Iseldir and his companions and Emrys. He wasn’t entirely certain, but it seemed to him that the Druids were amused by the old man’s presence, if the faint smiles, smirks even, that crossed their lips. Emrys, for his part, noticed their enjoyment and was glaring at them, almost pouting of all things.
Tintagel
Word from Camelot. Vivienne is dead.
Addendum: I am calmer now, though only just barely.
Vivienne’s body never fully recovered from Morgana’s birth two years ago, and her health has been in a steady decline since then, though she made the most of her time by lavishing love and affection on her daughter. According to the letter from Gorlois, she went to sleep one night, now a fortnight past, and just didn’t wake up, though she didn’t expire immediately.
Gorlois also admitted to me in the letter that while he and Vivienne’s relationship had never been easy, he still mourns her death. She was a devoted mother to Morgana, and nothing can replace what his daughter has lost, even if he should one day remarry, though he currently has no plans to do so.
He also mentioned in his letter that Vivienne kept murmuring about how they’d been wrong, that they had focused on the wrong child, but wrote it off as fevered ramblings.
The wrong child. Does she mean Morgause? What were we wrong about?
Oh, Vivienne, my sweet, headstrong sister.
Damn, Uther. He put the child in her belly that ultimately killed her. My sister’s blood is on his hands, and he cannot even be bothered to write some kind of condolence to me of her death? Insensitive, cruel man.
“How may we be of service?” one of the other Druids asked, finally breaking the small standoff.
Emrys straightened, and then gestured at the crumpled form of Morgana, who still remained insensible. Arthur watched and saw their eyes widen briefly as they saw her. “You captured her?” Iseldir murmured.
“Yes,” Emrys said, his tone abrupt. “We hoped we would, given her crimes against Cornwall and Camelot both. And yet, we have little hope of restraining her. I cannot remain with her at all times to keep her confined.”
The female Druid tilted her head, giving him a look. “And you would ask us to do so? We are not jailers, Emrys,” she said, sounding as though she was scolding him.
He shook his head. “No, that isn’t what I was hoping for,” he assured her hastily. “I…” he sighed, and every one of his many years seemed to land on his shoulders, weighing him down. “She has made so many horrible, unforgivable choices, and she is responsible for them, but I… I helped to push her onto this path in the first place. I should have done more to help her. By leaving her to fend for herself, to live in terror of what Uther would do to her if he should discover what she was and what she could do, I left her open to the manipulation of someone as ruthless, as bitter, as vengeful as Morgause.” He stared at the female Druid, his eyes bleak. “What evil she has done can be laid at my feet as much as hers.”
Arthur could only stare, barely able to comprehend what he was hearing. Emrys blamed himself for Morgana’s behavior? “No,” he said, almost before he could think about it. Both the female Druid and Emrys turned to him, surprise flitting across both their features. “Morgana made her own choices. She and I have known each other our entire lives. She could have come to me, and I would have done whatever was necessary to help her, and would never have let my… our father harm her. She was always… impatient, unwilling to believe that anyone knew better than her. It is not…” Arthur trailed off, shaking his head. “She walked this path of her own free will,” was all he could say.
Emrys stared at him intently for several moments, and then nodded slowly. Arthur didn’t know if he had convinced the other man of his argument, but at the moment, those were the only words he had to give. Finally, the old man turned to the Druids. “I wished to ask if there is anyone among your order who might be able to help her? Her actions have been increasingly erratic since the death of Morgause. I… Perhaps someone could help her regain control of herself? To become something of the good woman she used to be?”
None of the Druids responded at first. Finally, Iseldir admitted, “There are a few healers left who might be able to render some assistance to the Lady Morgana, but it is not as simple as that.” He turned toward Elaine and her family. “The Lady Morgana has just killed the Princess of Cornwall, tried to kill the Lady-Regent, and kidnapped the Lady-Regent’s children. These are all significant crimes, and our people have no wish to antagonize Cornwall by placing the lady under our protection.” Iseldir paused, giving Arthur a pointed look before saying, “We already face the persecution of Camelot and many of the other kingdoms. Adding Cornwall to that list would be devastating to our people.”
Arthur flinched. Yet something else that had fallen through the cracks in the past several weeks. He had sworn that the persecution of the Druids would end, and while no Druids had been captured since then and brought before him, he had done little to keep that oath.
Elaine was silent for several moments, her expression thoughtful and then said, “The Druids will face no reparations from Cornwall if they decide to treat the Lady Morgana. All I ask is that she be taken out of the kingdom.” She stared down at Morgana’s unconscious form. “Our mutual sister was banished for her crimes against us and forbidden to return, and so too shall Morgana face the same punishment. She must never return here, and will face death if she does. See to it that she understands that.”
The four Druids exchanged significant looks and then nodded. “We shall have her out of Cornwall within two days,” the female Druid promised.
And just like that, it was done. The Druids prepared Morgana’s unconscious form for travel while several of the knights vanished, only to return a short while later with the horses from both parties. Elaine was helped onto her horse, and Aileen was handed up to her and rode in front of her mother. Marcus and Pellinore faced a similar arrangement. None of them seemed unhappy about it, though.
Arthur mounted his own horse and turned to Emrys, expecting to see him struggling to get onto his own mount, and was surprised to see him only standing a small distance away, speaking with Iseldir. Neither was making any effort to lower their voices, so Arthur felt no shame by listening quietly.
“… healing magic on her already,” the Druid leader was saying. “But it is skewed, wrongly done. Whoever healed her had the raw magic for it, but not the knowledge to wield it properly.”
“I see.”
“Emrys,” Iseldir said, his expression as serious as Arthur had ever seen it, “the magic is not that of humans.” He gave him a pointed nod. “There are only two beings that can wield this kind of magic.”
Arthur had no idea what they were talking about, but he saw Emrys go still. After several moments, he murmured, “The elder one has encouraged me more than once over the years to kill her, or let her die. He would not heal her of his own free will, and I am the only one who could command him to do so.”
“Then the younger one?” The Druid’s tone had an inflection of worry in it.
“Perhaps,” Emrys allowed. “I will have to speak to them soon.”
Iseldir nodded. “That would be wise. It would not bode well for anyone if one of them decided to go against you.”
Arthur was confused. Who were the two men referring to? Another threat, one that could conceivably aid Morgana in her attempts to conquer Camelot and possibly burn all of Albion to the ground? Perhaps he should break into the conversation, no matter how rude it would be, and demand answers.
Before he could, though, he suddenly found Emrys in front of him, his hand absently rubbing the nose of Arthur’s horse. “Here we must part ways, Your Majesty,” the old man said. “I have a great deal to do elsewhere.”
Arthur nodded, his mind still full of questions. “I see,” he said slowly. “Will we ever meet again?”
Emrys smiled faintly. “Oh, I imagine so,” he replied. “Your servant will undoubtedly rejoin you somewhere along the journey back.” His smile faded and he adopted a much more serious expression. “He would do anything for you, Sire. Has done everything for you. I pray you will remember that in the future.”
Before Arthur could even begin to think of a response to such a strange statement, the old man whirled and walked briskly into the foliage. Arthur could hear him muttering and chuckling to himself as he walked, behaving like a demented old fool.
Layers on top of layers. Complexity beneath a veneer of simplicity.
Like Merlin, if Arthur was honest with himself.
Tintagel
Elaine’s fourth name day celebration is today. For the past week, gifts from my lords have been arriving, leaving the servants scrambling to keep them hidden until today. Elaine, my clever girl, knows that we’re all keeping secrets from us and has been scouring the castle for answers.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt Tintagel feel so festive. I certainly don’t remember it ever being so when I was a child. But Elaine’s birthday combined with my own new pregnancy and the news that Ygraine is finally pregnant - Tristan brought that news when he returned from visiting Camelot, though he seemed troubled about the subject - has made for a very happy atmosphere here at home.
Addendum: I look at what I wrote above this, and curse my stupidity for tempting the gods to take away what I gloated about.
Elaine’s birthday feast - very much scaled down to be fit for a little girl of four and a host of children from the city, the servants’ children, and some of the noble children that were visiting with their parents - was almost at an end when we had an unexpected arrival.
A priestess of the Old Religion had come to call upon us, and she came hand in hand with a young girl as fair-haired as Elaine, but with dark eyes while my daughter’s are blue. How strange, Morgause’s eyes. Tristan’s are blue, while Vivienne’s were grey. I cannot remember the colors of my parents’ eyes, but can only assume that she inherited such a color from one of them, since Aglovale and Ygrisa both had blue eyes as well.
The priestess, a woman called Lisanor, is Morgause’s guardian among their order, and she felt that it was appropriate that my niece be at least somewhat acquainted with the family that bore her. Now that Vivienne is gone, Tristan is her sole remaining parent, and Elaine is her half-sister. She has me, her aunt, of course, but I could not hope to replace what she lost when Vivienne sent her away. Morgana, her other half-sister, is deep within Camelot and near the watchful eyes of Uther, where Morgause dares not show her face for the time being.
Looking at my sister’s firstborn, who looks more like Tristan than anyone else, what could I do but agree to Lisanor’s request? Still, I cannot help but feel uncertain about the girl - there is something intense, something… strange about her. Ruthless, driven. And she’s barely a girl of nine.
Of course, Elaine knows nothing of this. She knows only that a pretty older girl has come to play with her, and she is enthralled with her. It’s actually a little sweet, since Morgause seems inclined to indulge her sister-cousin.
With nothing more to do but to return to Tintagel, Arthur offered the use of Merlin’s horse in order to transport Vevay’s body, which was quietly accepted. The knights of Cornwall were careful to keep the dead princess’ body wrapped in his cape, keeping her completely covered and out of sight of the children, who still clung to their parents with single-minded determination, their eyes bright with fear.
Arthur’s own knights flanked him as the large group began its journey back through the forest. It would take time to reach Tintagel, as they were proceeding slowly in deference to Elaine’s delicate health, but he estimated that they would reach the city well before nightfall.
The first leg of the journey was spent in relative silence, and was interrupted only when they heard the sound of someone tramping through the undergrowth. The knights of Cornwall pressed in on their royal family protectively, but when Merlin tripped out of the brush to land on his knees in front of them, everyone relaxed.
“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. “There you are!” Relief shot through him. For all of Emrys’ assurances, Arthur hadn’t been entirely at ease until he saw his friend with his own eyes. The last time they had been separated under such chaotic conditions, Merlin had been kidnapped by bandits that had, upon reflection, quite possibly been in the employ of Agravaine and Morgana. That he was here, unharmed and as clumsy as ever, soothed Arthur like nothing else.
“Yes, Sire, I’m here,” Merlin replied as he pushed himself to his feet. He nodded toward Elaine and her family, but then focused on Arthur. “Were the Druids able to help?” he asked.
Arthur nodded. “They’re taking Morgana with them,” he said simply. He would explain everything in more detail later, when they were back in Tintagel. The thought made him glance around. The others were resuming their journey, leaving Arthur and his knights behind, and there was no horse for Merlin, since his was bearing Vevay’s body.
Turning back to Merlin, he gestured him forward. “Come on,” he ordered. “Get up behind me.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t argue with him. Arthur leaned down and allowed the other man to grasp his arm to hoist himself up onto the horse. Once Merlin was settled, Arthur nudged the animal forward.
Upon their return to the castle, Elaine and both of her children were immediately whisked off by fussing maidservants for baths and examination by the court physicians. Given Elaine’s pregnancy and the horrors she had witnessed today, Arthur didn’t blame them for being concerned for her health, or for that of her children.
Pellinore approached him as everyone else began to wander off to their own chambers to clean themselves up. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice weary, “I must thank you for your help today. If -”
Arthur held up his hand. “You owe me nothing, my lord. I am just grateful that I was able to be of assistance.” He felt contrition well up in him. “It was my sister who has wrought such pain on your lives, so it was only right that I attempt to help rectify the situation.”
Pellinore shook his head. “None of this is your fault. In truth, we should have expected something like this to happen. Morgana had been pushing Elaine to stand against Camelot just as Morgause had. It was only a matter of time before Elaine’s constant refusals would have incited Morgana to take more desperate measures.” He sighed, running his hand through his dark curls tiredly. “There will be much to do in the coming days - my mother-in-law’s funeral rites, Elaine’s coronation. I know my lady would have you know that you are free to remain as our guest to observe, if you wish.”
Arthur nodded, considering the idea. He could easily send word to Camelot of what was happening here and let them know that he would be remaining to see the approaching ceremonies. He wasn’t expected home for some time anyway, and with Morgana now in the care of the Druids, the biggest threat to Camelot’s security had been dealt with.
“I would be honored to stay.”
Tintagel
Gods, what is happening to us? Word has arrived from Camelot - Ygraine is dead from childbirth, having given birth to a son, Arthur. Uther’s letter is full of mad ramblings, accusations of magic being the cause, that Nimueh murdered her. The letter was so nonsensical that I asked Tristan what was talking about, this nonsense about Nimueh. Tristan, however, was so furious that he could barely answer me. Hearing of Ygraine’s death seems to have driven him as mad as Uther, and he spat out a short explanation that horrified me.
It seems that Uther had lost faith that Ygraine would ever have a child of her own, so he sent his physician, Gaius, to seek the aid of the priestesses. Gaius brought Nimueh, who is now a full-fledged member of that order, to court to discuss the possibility of using magic to facilitate a pregnancy for Ygraine. Tristan was there during the discussions, and heard Nimueh warn Uther that there would be a price to pay. Uther had sworn that he would pay any price that was deemed necessary, but he needed a lawful heir.
It seems he has one, now, but the price was the life of his queen. Only now Uther is claiming that Nimueh deliberately killed Ygraine as an act of spite.
Then, as if all of this wasn’t horrible enough, there are the additional reports that are coming from my people in Camelot. Uther is not idle in his new hatred of magic. He is rounding up every sorcerer in Camelot that he can lay his hands on and executing them. Some are dying by the ax, but more and more are being tied to pyres and dying by fire. Men, women, and children alike are being burned by fire and the rage of their king.
Tristan wasn’t idle either. He packed a saddlebag and ordered his horse saddled, declaring that he was going to Camelot. He swore that he’d kill Uther before he killed anyone else or ruined Arthur as he ruined Ygraine. As angry as I was with Uther, I tried to dissuade him, to wait until he was in a better frame of mind, but nothing I said could stop him. Even Elaine heard that her father was about to depart and came running into the courtyard to latch onto him. Normally his daughter’s presence would be enough to stay my husband, but not this time. He hugged her briefly and then shrugged her off into my arms in his hurry to be gone, leaving us to watch him ride out of Tintagel and toward Camelot.
Gods know what will become of all of us.
The funeral rites were a bit more elaborate than the ones that had been observed in Camelot. Whereas Arthur had observed a vigil in solitude, watching - and weeping - over his father’s body throughout the night, followed by a short, solemn procession where six knights had borne his father’s body to the royal crypts. There, they had placed his father in the sarcophagus next to that of Arthur’s mother. A few solemn words were intoned by Geoffrey, and that had been the end of it.
There were many similarities between Camelot’s traditions and those of Cornwall. There was a vigil to be held, but due to Elaine’s condition - the physicians had not determined that she was in danger of losing her unborn child, but had strenuously advised that she rest as much as possible for the foreseeable future - she was unable to participate. As a result, Pellinore had stood vigil in his wife’s place, and he was not alone. Several knights also participated, and even many of the servants, including Vevay’s personal nurse and her maidservant. Both women wept in silence, and Arthur could easily make out the self-recrimination in their eyes.
The following morning, Arthur joined the procession as Vevay’s body was borne by a special carriage through the city, past the silent crowds that had gathered to pay their final respects to the princess who had been gone from them for years, but never lost. The crypts for the royal family were outside of Tintagel, surprisingly, and at Pellinore’s invitation, Arthur was one of the men who carried Vevay into the crypt. Her sarcophagus stood alone near the back of the crypt, and Arthur was reminded yet again that her husband’s body should, by all rights, have been laid to rest here instead of in Camelot.
By contrast, Elaine’s subsequent coronation was a rife of cheer and celebration. Where everyone had dressed somberly and discreetly during the funeral rites, the city exploded into a rife of color and smiles as Elaine walked to the gates of the city where, by tradition, the princes of Cornwall were crowned in full view of their people. She knelt just outside the gates, resplendent in blue robes unlike any Arthur had ever seen. Clearly this was some kind of fashion that Cornwall had kept to themselves.
A herald cried out, “People of Cornwall, say you will have Elaine, daughter of Vevay and Tristan, as your Princess? Yay or nay?”
The response was completely one-sided, and quite deafening to boot.
The ensuing celebrations were exuberant, to say the least. Gwaine enjoyed himself immensely, imbibing liberally on the free-flowing spirits offered and trying to get Merlin to join him. Thankfully, Merlin seemed to have gained some control of his need to consume large amounts of alcohol, and was thus in a better position to make sure Gwaine didn’t disgrace himself, not that Arthur thought that he would. Gwaine was generally a cheerful drunk, as opposed to a sullen or mean one.
Arthur didn’t have much of a chance to speak extensively with Elaine, due to the constant demands on his time, but what time he did have with her was filled with her telling stories. She spoke of the things her mother had told her as a child, but also stories of her own childhood. She had few memories of Tristan, but the ones Elaine did have she treasured, and was happy to share them with him. Arthur was thus able to have a clearer picture of the man who had been his mother’s twin brother. Elaine remembered him with the adoring eyes of a child, but that was perhaps as it should be. Arthur tried not to think of how he would have been at the end, so full of anger and hate that he threw himself into a challenge in a vain attempt to avenge the sister he’d lost.
Tintagel
A letter arrived from Camelot. Tristan was killed. By Uther. He apparently came to Camelot and challenged Uther, claiming that Uther would pay for killing Ygraine with his own death. They fought, and Uther killed him. Uther then ordered that Tristan’s body be laid to rest in the royal crypts next to Ygraine, instead of returning him to his widow, as would be proper.
My husband is dead. My husband is dead.
My son is dead too. My son died the moment I read that letter, the moment I saw that Uther had killed Tristan. He slid slowly from my body and the physician later informed me that he was dead before he could draw breath in the outside world.
I hope the gods curse you, Uther Pendragon. I hope you suffer every day for the rest of your life, and in whatever lies beyond. You killed my husband and my son. I pray you never know peace, that your own children come to hate you.
I pray the gods curse Nimueh too. Meddling in things that ought not to be meddled with is what started all of this. I hope she and Uther both rot for what they have brought upon us.
I hope they both burn.
Addendum: I have ordered that all trade and contact with Camelot cease. Let Uther and his godforsaken kingdom rot.
I have commanded that if any knight of Camelot crosses the border, they are to be killed on sight and their head is to be sent back to their king. If Uther is so foolish to cross the border, he is to be brought to me.
I will cut out his heart personally.
After three days’ worth of celebrations, however, Arthur knew it was time for him and the others to return to Camelot. Elaine had her own work to focus on, as well as her family, and didn’t need the added strain of constantly having to entertain a visiting king.
The morning of their departure, however, found Arthur being dragged by Elaine into her study, away from pestering children and servants and Merlin who kept insisting that he had not misplaced Arthur’s tunic. He allowed his cousin to pull him over to her large desk where, he was surprised to see, there was a small chest sitting at the corner.
“This is for you,” she said, laying a hand on the chest. “I think you’ll find them… informative, to say the least.”
Arthur blinked. “Them?”
She glanced down and her own eyes widened briefly in surprise. “Oh, right.” With a few snaps and turns, Elaine flipped the lid open to reveal the chest’s contents.
Books. Several tiny bound tomes, all stacked neatly and to best advantage to take up as little space as possible. They filled the chest to the very top.
“They’re my mother’s diaries,” Elaine explained softly. “She gave them to me shortly after she handed me the regency of Cornwall. She said that it would be best if I had some kind of an understanding of all that had come before in her life.”
Arthur gazed at the contents of the chest, his heart pounding in his ears. These past few weeks had schooled him on so much about his family, more than he’d ever learned in all of his life before he’d come to Cornwall. But this? This was a treasure beyond price, and she was just offering it to him like this?
“I can’t promise that they will answer all of your questions,” Elaine continued, “but I think that they will give you at least some answers.”
He continued to stare at the books. Vevay would have written about his parents, he realized, about his mother’s family, and maybe even a little about his father’s, if he was fortunate. The life of his kin, before he was born and they tore each other apart.
“Thank you, cousin.” His tone was breathless, and his hand trembled as he carefully closed the lid. “I shall guard them with my life.”
They left the room together, the chest tucked securely under Arthur’s arm. As they strode through the corridors, intent on making their way to the courtyard where his knights and Merlin - provided he had managed to locate the missing tunic, of course - should be waiting for him, Arthur turned to Elaine. “I’d like to formally invite you and your family to visit me in Camelot in the future. It would be my honor to introduce you to my wife.”
Elaine beamed at him and stopped just before they walked out the doors of the castle. Leaning up, she pressed her lips against the skin of his cheek. “The honor would be ours to accept, Arthur. I fear it shall be some months,” she added, her hand drifting down to the swell of her stomach, “but I will certainly take you up on the offer as soon as feasible for both of us.”
Arthur grinned as they walked out the door together. He would tie the chest securely to his saddle, keeping it close on the journey home. He would start reading the diaries left behind by the aunt he’d barely known, and learn at least some of the secrets that had plagued him his whole life. He would return to Camelot, secure in the knowledge that, for the first time, he actually had a family.
As Arthur led his party out of Tintagel, Merlin appeared beside him. “So,” he said, “not bad for your first diplomatic visit, yes?”
Arthur glanced at him. “It was eventful, to say the least.”
Merlin nodded cheerily. “And hey, no woman came along and tried to enchant you into falling in love with her! That definitely makes it a success!”
“Merlin!”
End
Fic Master Post
By the second afternoon bell, a veritable army of stable-hands brought around a corresponding number of horses. The knights of both kingdoms were making last-minute alterations to their saddles, their minds focused on the task that lay ahead of them in the next few hours.
Three horses had been led to an area slightly apart from the rest, two of which were Arthur’s own horse and Merlin’s. The third, a gentle grey mare, was likely Elaine’s, Arthur presumed. He kept his attention on his own mount, doing his best to studiously ignore the hushed, fevered words passing between his cousin and her husband. He only allowed himself to look up when he noticed Pellinore lifting Elaine up into her saddle - she was riding side-saddle, which Arthur assumed was to minimize the jarring of Elaine’s body, and thus hopefully not cause too much disruption for the babe in her belly.
He was subsequently distracted by a series of grumbled curses, and Arthur turned toward Merlin’s horse. Emrys was having some problems mounting the animal, and Arthur instinctively stepped forward. Merlin’s horse was temperamental to just about anyone but Merlin, snapping at anyone else who came too close. The animal had even bitten Arthur at one point. However, he stopped in his tracks when he saw that the horse wasn’t shying away from the old sorcerer, but was in fact standing still with surprisingly good grace while Emrys clawed his way up.
That was… interesting, to say the least.
Shrugging off the strange occurrence, Arthur turned back to his own horse and mounted it with ease. He maneuvered his horse to flank Elaine’s, and allowed her to lead the way out. The knights were also mounting as they left, though Arthur knew they wouldn’t be following. Instead, Pellinore would lead them out one of the less noticeable exits of the city and circle around, just as planned.
The ride through the city was silent, and the three of them - Emrys had led Merlin’s horse to ride alongside Arthur’s - were the subject of many stares from the people they passed. Word had no doubt leaked out as to what had happened. A murder and the kidnapping of their regent’s children - it would have been impossible to keep such happenings out of the public conscious.
Eventually, though, they passed out of Tintagel and began moving along the road away from the coast. Elaine still did not begin any conversation and Arthur was loath to disturb her when she seemed so deep in thought.
That left Emrys, who had also been quiet for some time. He was staring straight ahead as his horse bore him forward, his eyes sweeping the land in front of them. “So,” Arthur said before he could talk himself out of it, “it’s rather providential that you’re here in Cornwall.”
The old man glanced in his direction. “I go where I’m needed,” he replied shortly.
Arthur nodded as though it was far more profound. “My sister mentioned you when I confronted her in Camelot,” he continued. “She seems under the impression that… you are protecting me.”
Again, the older man didn’t appear inclined to be overly elaborate in his responses. “Why would I protect a man who has tried to kill me and has had a bounty on my head for the past nine months?”
Arthur flinched inwardly. Gaius had told him that Emrys wasn’t responsible for his father’s death, that his injuries had just been too severe, even for magic. Arthur had been certain that there was more to the story, more than Gaius was telling him, and that thought had so consumed him that he’d never rescinded the bounty that had been posted in the days after his father’s death and Arthur’s coronation. “I,” he started, paused, and then forced himself to continue, “I’m sorry. I’ve known for some time that you were not responsible for the loss of my father. Such a lapse is inexcusable. If it means anything, I swear I will cancel the bounty on my return home.”
Now Emrys turned to look at him. His eyes, sharp and aware and strangely familiar despite the deep age lines surrounding him, were like knives, sinking into Arthur’s very being, but he forced himself not to look away. He knew a test when he saw one.
Finally, the older man smiled slightly and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’m quite capable of defending myself from greedy fools, though I suppose it would be nice to not have to deal with them at all. Thank you, Sire.”
Silence fell for a short time after that, filled only by the grinding of earth beneath the hooves of their horses. Arthur continued to glance at his companion, something else still gnawing at him. “I also feel I should apologize for how I behaved when my father… died.” It was difficult, even now, to recall those minutes in his father’s chamber. “I wanted magic to save my father, and then behaved abominably when it did not give me what I desired.”
“That is why magic should be used with the utmost care,” Emrys responded, his voice becoming uncharacteristically gentle. “It is a powerful force, but its use can have unintended consequences. I attempted to use magic to heal your father without knowing all of the facts, allowing my desire for a world without persecution to cloud my judgment.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Facts?”
The older man nodded. “Yes. I learned later that a pendant had been planted on your father’s body, a pendent that had been enchanted to take any magic performed on its wearer and twist its intentions. When I attempted to heal your father…”
“… it killed him instead,” Arthur finished, horrified. He opened his mouth to demand who had done this despicable thing, but the answer came to him so easily that he said nothing. Agravaine. Morgana.
It seemed that the crime of patricide could be added to the list of crimes perpetuated by his half-sister, even if she was aided by his uncle.
“Yes,” Emrys confirmed, unaware of the thoughts running through Arthur’s mind. He hesitated a moment, clearly considering whether to continue, but then spoke again. “I should also apologize to you, Sire, for my part in what happened. I was wrong to have made my help conditional on you repealing the laws against magic. You should see for yourself that magic is not evil, not extorted into restoring it. I’m sorry.”
Arthur nodded thoughtfully and let the silence fall over them again. His world had become immeasurably complicated over the years and although not all of it could be laid at magic’s door, enough of it could. He would have to consider again what Emrys had wanted of him, and do it with a much clearer head than he had the last time. Back then, he had been desperate to preserve his father’s life, to give himself more time with a father who, if Arthur was honest with himself, had been dying a long, drawn out death ever since Morgause had plucked the crown from his head. Now, he was in a position to reflect on the matter more impartially.
It wasn’t going to happen now, however. Their party of three had at last reached the forest, and the last leg of their journey was coming to an end. As they approached the clearing Morgana had specified, the sound of raised voices caught their attention.
Tintagel
An express rider arrived from Camelot, bearing letters, including one from Ygraine. Vivienne gave birth three weeks ago on what the farmers were calling the first day of spring - another girl, who she has named Morgana.
The birth was difficult, much more than the first one, Ygraine informed me. The midwives have even admitted that it’s unlikely that Vivienne will ever bear any more children. She also informed me that Vivienne again experienced several visions throughout the pregnancy and during the birth itself, although they were much less pronounced this time. According to Ygraine, Vivienne just kept whispering that they were wrong about something or someone, that it was the ‘wrong one’, which just served to confuse everyone. Still, for all that this child will be her only one, Ygraine writes that Vivienne is doting on Morgana, and that it seems to have eased some of the constant tension between her and Gorlois, since he too adores the baby girl.
Ygraine said nothing of Uther’s reaction to the baby, for which I wasn’t sure to be concerned or grateful. I also could detect something of a strangled envy and sadness in the letter. Ygraine has yet to have any sign of being pregnant after nearly five years of marriage, and watching one cousin have a baby and hearing of another’s pregnancy doesn’t seem to have been easy for her.
My poor cousin. I hope the gods will be good to her and give her what she longs for.
The three reined in their horses, and Arthur quietly dismounted. He opened his mouth to tell Emrys and Elaine to wait with their mounts while he scouted out what lay ahead, but before he could say a word, Emrys was off his horse - with considerably more grace than when he had gotten on the animal - and hurrying over to Elaine. The old man held out his hands to her and helped ease her down onto the ground. Arthur sighed quietly, resigning himself to them accompanying him in a potentially dangerous situation - he just hoped Pellinore didn’t discover it.
They crept forward, Arthur in the lead and with his sword drawn. They kept as low to the ground as they could, using the foliage of the forest to mask their presence. He was actually quite surprised at how quietly his companions were able to move - an old man and a pregnant woman could hardly be considered the most agile of people. Yet, they did so. Perhaps it was just because Arthur was used to being accompanied by Merlin, who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘stealth’.
When they finally reached the edge of the clearing, Arthur came to a stop, peering through the leaves of a thick set of bushes. He scarcely noticed Elaine and Emrys coming up beside him to also see what lay in front of them.
The clearing was fairly large, several yards in diameter. There was a dark spot of soot and ash in the center, indicating there had been a fire, and one of some size too. There was a single horse, as well as two silent, black-clad men on the opposite side of the clearing, but it was the two women that caught his attention.
Morgana was there, clad in the rough, homespun dress and overcoat that seemed to have become her clothing of choice in recent years. If anything, though, she appeared even more ragged and wild than she had in the council chamber of Camelot. Her hair was a nest of tangles and tattered black and green ribbons, and her green eyes had a strange, feral gleam to them, one he had never seen before, not even when they stood but inches from one another in Camelot.
Equally shocking was the other person present in the clearing. Princess Vevay was clad in the same dress he’d seen her wearing yesterday, though it appeared rather rumpled and dirt-stained. Her grey hair fell loose down her back, still thick despite her age, down past her hips.
“… return my grandchildren, at once!” Vevay was saying, her voice full of venom.
Morgana shook her head. “I’ll return them when your daughter hands me Arthur and Merlin, and not a moment before,” she replied, her hands twitching along the lines of her dust-coated skirt. Her eyes repeatedly swept the clearing, but she didn’t seem to have been alerted to Arthur’s and his companions’ presence. “Once I cut their throats, I can claim my rightful inheritance,” she muttered, more to herself than to Vevay. “There won’t be anyone left to rally the foolish commoners against me as they did before.”
Her rambling may have been soft-spoken, but Arthur heard her clearly enough, to say nothing of Vevay. The older woman’s expression flushed with anger. “By what right do you claim Camelot as your rightful inheritance, child?” she demanded.
Morgana blinked, clearly surprised to be asked such a question. “I am Uther’s firstborn, his eldest child -”
“You are the bastard daughter of two people who could not control their basest urges,” Vevay snapped, cutting her off. Arthur was amazed, both at how coherent she sounded and at her words. He’d never known anyone who would have dared speak so to Morgana, not if they didn’t want to receive a harsh slap to the face for it. At the very least.
“Much as I loved my sister,” the older woman continued, “Vivienne had a voracious sexual appetite that resulted in the conception of two girls by two different men, neither of which were her husband.” Her eyes were dark and firm. “Bastards don’t inherit kingdoms, Morgana, especially when they have half-brothers born in wedlock and are officially proclaimed heir.”
Arthur didn’t know who to stare at more, Vevay for actually having the courage to say all of this to Morgana’s face, or Morgana to try and predict when she would lose complete control of herself. Given the way her clenched fists were shaking at her sides, he didn’t think it would be long.
Vevay didn’t appear to notice, because she kept right on speaking. “If you had kept your mouth shut about the truth of your parentage, you would have stood to inherit Gorlois’ lands and wealth, which I believe were sizable.” She shook her head. “But by revealing yourself as Uther’s child, you wrecked any claim you could have made to any of that.” An expression that was both grim and bitter crossed her face. “Clearly, Morgause did nothing but fill your head with delusions of grandeur. Perhaps it was for the best that you killed her. The priestesses ruined her, just as I knew they would.”
Arthur couldn’t help but cringe. Was Vevay actually asking for death?!
“I didn’t kill Morgause!” Morgana’s voice was shrill.
Perhaps Vevay would have continued to argue with her, but didn’t get a chance. Much to Arthur’s shock, Elaine pushed herself to her feet using both him and Emrys’ shoulders to bolster herself, and stormed through the brush. “That isn’t what you told me, Morgana,” she snarled.
Both Vevay and Morgana whirled to face her, their eyes wide with astonishment. Neither of them looked past her, so Arthur was fairly certain that their surprise had made Morgana forget that he and Merlin were supposed to be accompanying Elaine.
“You stabbed her on the Isle of the Blessed,” Elaine continued, her tone full of fury. “You used her blood as a sacrifice to open the veil between worlds, to avenge your wounded vanity. You killed Morgause, and it was all for nothing!” The last word left Elaine’s mouth in a shout.
“It was Merlin!” Morgana’s voice was just as loud. “He hurt her so badly that she was dying! He -”
“It was a battle, Morgana,” Elaine interrupted again, sounding somewhat calmer now, colder. “Merlin defended himself and those around him. Morgause sought to kill him. What was he supposed to do? Stand there and let her? Is his life so worthless that he should just give it up simply because it’s convenient for you?” There was a brief pause, and then she added in a harsh whisper, “He didn’t kill our sister. You did.”
The sharp, high-pitched scream that tore itself free from Morgana’s throat rang in Arthur’s ears. Before he could react, a knife appeared in Morgana’s hand. For one horrible moment, he thought she was going to rush at Elaine, hacking and stabbing, but when she raised her arm, he realized that it was much worse.
He struggled to his feet, Emrys also rising next to him.
The knife flew from Morgana’s hand, straight at Elaine.
Arthur and Emrys burst into the clearing, but they were too slow, much too slow. They’d never reach Elaine in time.
They’d forgotten about Vevay, though. She moved with a speed that belied her age, throwing herself against her daughter. The impact was enough to knock Elaine out of the knife’s path, but not enough to get Vevay clear.
The knife sank into soft flesh. There was no scream, only a grunt.
Arthur kept moving, his momentum carrying him forward. The two guards, who had been forgotten in the chaos, suddenly appeared, their own swords drawn as they approached Arthur. Arthur’s own sword was up and prepared to meet his opponents’ blows, almost of its own volition. Not for the first time, part of him marveled at this sword that had come from the stone, mired deep in myth and legend. It felt like it had been made especially for him, had been forged with his very being in mind. The steel seemed to sing as it parried the blades of the two men, and Arthur surged forward, confident in his skills as well as the sword. He caught one of the men in the stomach, slicing it open, and the other in the head, smashing the pommel into his skull.
Even as his opponents fell, defeated, Arthur didn’t let his guard down. Morgana was still present, and she was infinitely more of a threat than two men with swords, however skilled they might be. He whirled, his sword still held at the ready -
- and froze. Arthur had lost track of Emrys when he had focused on the guards, but clearly the old man had not been idle. His hand was outstretched, and he had a fierce, deadly expression on his bearded face as he glared across the clearing. Arthur followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped. Morgana also stood there, in much the same position with her hand thrown out in Emrys’ direction. Her own expression was a myriad of different emotions - fear, rage, shock, just to name a few. There were no sparks, no grand display of magic between them as there had been when Glynis had used her own power, but Arthur could still almost feel the extreme pressure being exerted between their two hands. He had no doubt that the loser of such a battle of wills and power would feel that crushing weight.
“Why do you continue to plague me, Emrys?” Morgana hissed.
“Because you clearly need plagued,” he snarled right back. “You kidnapped two innocent children, Morgana! You -”
It happened quickly, but Arthur still saw it coming. While Morgana kept one hand pointed at Emrys, she raised the other in a violent jerk. Instantly, a fallen tree stump rose into the air and shot toward the old man. Arthur opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before a single sound could leave his mouth, Emrys bellowed something. It was some kind of spell, something destructive, because a bolt of light raced out of the old man’s other hand and met the stump head-on.
The resulting explosion both blinded Arthur for several seconds as well as knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, but didn’t feel anything in his body give in the face of the impact. Despite being stunned, Arthur forced himself to sit up as quickly as possible, blinking rapidly to clear his vision of the spots that clouded it. He looked for Emrys first, and saw him lying several feet away, his hand rubbing his head as he shook it blearily. Arthur thought he looked all right, if shaken.
Satisfied, Arthur began to examine the rest of the immediate area. There, some distance away and slumped at the base of a thick tree, was Morgana. The explosion, either by accident or by design, had been closer to her than to him and Emrys. She was barely conscious, if at all.
As Arthur slowly realized that the situation was secure, he began to relax. It was then that another sound began to penetrate his mind - the sound of weeping.
Elaine. Vevay.
He turned quickly, and found them where Elaine had been standing during her confrontation with Morgana - had that really only been moments ago? They were on the ground, Elaine cradling Vevay against her. As Arthur stared at them, he began to register the blood pouring out around the imbedded knife stuck in Vevay’s chest. There was also a faint spray of crimson coming from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. The blade must have penetrated one of her lungs, Arthur realized, a sick feeling crawling into his gut.
These were mortal wounds. Even if they could get Vevay to a healer or physician right now, there would be little for them to do. She was beyond help.
Tears trailed down Elaine’s cheeks as she held onto her mother tightly. “Mother,” she sobbed, holding her close. She attempted to speak further, but her grief appeared to have closed her throat against speech.
Vevay’s eyes were growing dimmer, but she seemed to be focusing every bit of concentration that she had left on the face of her daughter. She raised a trembling, bloodstained hand up to Elaine’s face, her fingers trailing along her cheek and leaving a streak of red in their wake. “My… girl,” she wheezed.
An endless moment, and Vevay’s eyes drifted closed.
Her hand dropped to the ground beside her.
Tintagel
It is just my luck that my child would come right in the middle of the harvest, one of the busiest times of the year, but I find that I don’t really mind. My daughter has arrived, my Elaine. Many people say that newborns are ugly when they first arrive, and their features smooth out later and become pretty, but I don’t agree. Elaine is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.
Tristan, I think, agrees with me. As I write this, he is sitting by our daughter’s cradle, cooing and playing with her. He has sent the nurses out, leaving us alone, our little family. He isn’t disappointed at all that Elaine isn’t a son, since most men usually prefer boys to girls, but is instead worshipping her.
My girl. She is so beautiful.
Life, I believe, is never going to be any more wonderful than this, being alone and content with my husband and child, enjoying each other’s company and taking a moment to block out the cares that await us all outside the door. Tristan won’t be able to stay with us long, since he is overseeing the harvest in my place. My lords grumbled a bit, as they usually prefer to deal with me, their true ruler, rather than my consort, but I think they will keep their mouths shut for now. They have experience dealing with their wives after childbirth, and no one wants to antagonize a woman after she has just gone through such a trial.
It may be selfish of me, but I wish Tristan and I could have more time like this, where we have only to content ourselves with each other and our daughter, where we don’t have to worry about the outside world.
It’s not just here in Cornwall that matters demand our constant attention, either. News is pouring in from Camelot, where things are growing more and more unstable. The lack of an heir is making people bold in challenging Uther and his authority. Some of his lords have even grown a bit obstinate, but the chief problem is coming from those who use magic. Magicians are causing problems, tormenting the neighbors they feud with, cheating at the gaming tables in the taverns and causing brawls in the streets, and all the like. Uther’s knights are being run ragged trying to quell the problems.
Elaine continued to cry, burying her face in her mother’s hair for several moments. Sheathing his sword, Arthur slowly knelt down beside his cousin and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He had never known his mother, but he had still mourned her. How much worse must it be for Elaine, who had known her mother all her life and had known what it was to be treasured by that woman?
After several silent minutes, Elaine finally looked up. Her cheeks were stained with her tears and her eyes were red and bloodshot. Nonetheless, she still allowed Arthur to help her lay Vevay down on the ground. Once the princess was laid out, Arthur stood up and unclipped his cape. He then carefully draped it over Vevay’s body, and had covered her just as there was a commotion on the other side of the clearing, the sound of several sets of boots tramping through the undergrowth.
Arthur turned and placed himself between the others and the approaching group, unsheathing his sword once more. If Morgana had reinforcements, then it would be him - and possibly Emrys - against an unknown number of assailants and -
A flash of blue caught his eye just before several of Cornwall’s knights crashed through the brush, their own swords drawn and held ready. When they saw Arthur, they lowered their swords and stepped aside, allowing those behind them to also enter the clearing. As Arthur placed his own sword back in its sheath, he also breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Cador, Samuel, Leon, and Gwaine appear with the others. Then, just behind them, came Pellinore, who held Marcus tightly by the hand while carrying Aileen on his other arm. Both children were a bit dusty and dirt-stained, but appeared unharmed. Aileen had also been crying recently, and seemed determined to cling to her father at all costs.
Arthur watched as Marcus’ eyes swept the immediate area, and then widened. “Mother!”
Pellinore’s eyes grew huge as well as he spotted his wife. “Elaine!” He hurried forward, sweeping past Arthur without so much as a glance in his direction. Arthur turned and really paused to look at his cousin. Her hair was askew, and her dress was covered in blood. Small wonder they were so alarmed.
“I-I’m all right,” Elaine assured them, her voice still shaking. Marcus pressed himself against her, wrapping an arm around her waist and encouraging her to lean on him. “It’s not my blood,” she murmured and her eyes drifted down to the ground where Arthur’s cape covered her mother’s body.
The knights of Cornwall spread throughout the clearing, obviously intent on securing the immediate area. Arthur’s own knights took that moment to approach him. “What happened here, Arthur?” Gwaine asked, his voice low, his eyes darting toward the covered figure on the ground. “Who is that?”
Arthur sighed. “Princess Vevay,” he responded, pitching his voice low so that they’re not overheard. He quietly explained the reasons for the princess’ unexpected presence, until his eyes caught sight of another disturbance near the tree where Morgana still lay. A group of four cloaked figures appeared and were speaking with Emrys and two of the Cornwall knights, one of which was Bedwyr. Glancing in the direction of Elaine, Arthur saw that she too had noticed their presence. She started toward them, still holding onto Marcus with one hand and Pellinore and Aileen with the other. Arthur followed them.
As they all approached, the four individuals reached up almost as one and lowered their hoods. There were three men, one woman, all exuding a strange quiet peace that was distinctly at odds with the atmosphere of rage and violence and death that lingered over the clearing.
It was the Druids, the ones Emrys sent Merlin to find. Merlin.
“Where’s Merlin?” The words slipped out of his mouth before Arthur could stop him.
The leader of the four stared at him intently, and Arthur realized that he recognized him. They had met before, first when he had returned the little Druid boy to his people, and then when he, Gwaine, and Merlin had sought the Cup of Life and Arthur had held his sword to another child’s throat. Not one of his best moments, and one he had been heartily ashamed of in the aftermath.
As though sensing his thoughts, the leader bowed his head in his direction. Greetings, Arthur Pendragon. The words echoed in Arthur’s mind, and he struggled not to flinch. There was no anger, no resentment in the tone, no disapproval over past actions. It was humbling and troubling at the same time.
The leader turned his attention to Elaine and bowed to her as well, introducing himself as Iseldir. “We came at Emrys’ request,” he added, glancing at the old man. Arthur glanced between Iseldir and his companions and Emrys. He wasn’t entirely certain, but it seemed to him that the Druids were amused by the old man’s presence, if the faint smiles, smirks even, that crossed their lips. Emrys, for his part, noticed their enjoyment and was glaring at them, almost pouting of all things.
Tintagel
Word from Camelot. Vivienne is dead.
Addendum: I am calmer now, though only just barely.
Vivienne’s body never fully recovered from Morgana’s birth two years ago, and her health has been in a steady decline since then, though she made the most of her time by lavishing love and affection on her daughter. According to the letter from Gorlois, she went to sleep one night, now a fortnight past, and just didn’t wake up, though she didn’t expire immediately.
Gorlois also admitted to me in the letter that while he and Vivienne’s relationship had never been easy, he still mourns her death. She was a devoted mother to Morgana, and nothing can replace what his daughter has lost, even if he should one day remarry, though he currently has no plans to do so.
He also mentioned in his letter that Vivienne kept murmuring about how they’d been wrong, that they had focused on the wrong child, but wrote it off as fevered ramblings.
The wrong child. Does she mean Morgause? What were we wrong about?
Oh, Vivienne, my sweet, headstrong sister.
Damn, Uther. He put the child in her belly that ultimately killed her. My sister’s blood is on his hands, and he cannot even be bothered to write some kind of condolence to me of her death? Insensitive, cruel man.
“How may we be of service?” one of the other Druids asked, finally breaking the small standoff.
Emrys straightened, and then gestured at the crumpled form of Morgana, who still remained insensible. Arthur watched and saw their eyes widen briefly as they saw her. “You captured her?” Iseldir murmured.
“Yes,” Emrys said, his tone abrupt. “We hoped we would, given her crimes against Cornwall and Camelot both. And yet, we have little hope of restraining her. I cannot remain with her at all times to keep her confined.”
The female Druid tilted her head, giving him a look. “And you would ask us to do so? We are not jailers, Emrys,” she said, sounding as though she was scolding him.
He shook his head. “No, that isn’t what I was hoping for,” he assured her hastily. “I…” he sighed, and every one of his many years seemed to land on his shoulders, weighing him down. “She has made so many horrible, unforgivable choices, and she is responsible for them, but I… I helped to push her onto this path in the first place. I should have done more to help her. By leaving her to fend for herself, to live in terror of what Uther would do to her if he should discover what she was and what she could do, I left her open to the manipulation of someone as ruthless, as bitter, as vengeful as Morgause.” He stared at the female Druid, his eyes bleak. “What evil she has done can be laid at my feet as much as hers.”
Arthur could only stare, barely able to comprehend what he was hearing. Emrys blamed himself for Morgana’s behavior? “No,” he said, almost before he could think about it. Both the female Druid and Emrys turned to him, surprise flitting across both their features. “Morgana made her own choices. She and I have known each other our entire lives. She could have come to me, and I would have done whatever was necessary to help her, and would never have let my… our father harm her. She was always… impatient, unwilling to believe that anyone knew better than her. It is not…” Arthur trailed off, shaking his head. “She walked this path of her own free will,” was all he could say.
Emrys stared at him intently for several moments, and then nodded slowly. Arthur didn’t know if he had convinced the other man of his argument, but at the moment, those were the only words he had to give. Finally, the old man turned to the Druids. “I wished to ask if there is anyone among your order who might be able to help her? Her actions have been increasingly erratic since the death of Morgause. I… Perhaps someone could help her regain control of herself? To become something of the good woman she used to be?”
None of the Druids responded at first. Finally, Iseldir admitted, “There are a few healers left who might be able to render some assistance to the Lady Morgana, but it is not as simple as that.” He turned toward Elaine and her family. “The Lady Morgana has just killed the Princess of Cornwall, tried to kill the Lady-Regent, and kidnapped the Lady-Regent’s children. These are all significant crimes, and our people have no wish to antagonize Cornwall by placing the lady under our protection.” Iseldir paused, giving Arthur a pointed look before saying, “We already face the persecution of Camelot and many of the other kingdoms. Adding Cornwall to that list would be devastating to our people.”
Arthur flinched. Yet something else that had fallen through the cracks in the past several weeks. He had sworn that the persecution of the Druids would end, and while no Druids had been captured since then and brought before him, he had done little to keep that oath.
Elaine was silent for several moments, her expression thoughtful and then said, “The Druids will face no reparations from Cornwall if they decide to treat the Lady Morgana. All I ask is that she be taken out of the kingdom.” She stared down at Morgana’s unconscious form. “Our mutual sister was banished for her crimes against us and forbidden to return, and so too shall Morgana face the same punishment. She must never return here, and will face death if she does. See to it that she understands that.”
The four Druids exchanged significant looks and then nodded. “We shall have her out of Cornwall within two days,” the female Druid promised.
And just like that, it was done. The Druids prepared Morgana’s unconscious form for travel while several of the knights vanished, only to return a short while later with the horses from both parties. Elaine was helped onto her horse, and Aileen was handed up to her and rode in front of her mother. Marcus and Pellinore faced a similar arrangement. None of them seemed unhappy about it, though.
Arthur mounted his own horse and turned to Emrys, expecting to see him struggling to get onto his own mount, and was surprised to see him only standing a small distance away, speaking with Iseldir. Neither was making any effort to lower their voices, so Arthur felt no shame by listening quietly.
“… healing magic on her already,” the Druid leader was saying. “But it is skewed, wrongly done. Whoever healed her had the raw magic for it, but not the knowledge to wield it properly.”
“I see.”
“Emrys,” Iseldir said, his expression as serious as Arthur had ever seen it, “the magic is not that of humans.” He gave him a pointed nod. “There are only two beings that can wield this kind of magic.”
Arthur had no idea what they were talking about, but he saw Emrys go still. After several moments, he murmured, “The elder one has encouraged me more than once over the years to kill her, or let her die. He would not heal her of his own free will, and I am the only one who could command him to do so.”
“Then the younger one?” The Druid’s tone had an inflection of worry in it.
“Perhaps,” Emrys allowed. “I will have to speak to them soon.”
Iseldir nodded. “That would be wise. It would not bode well for anyone if one of them decided to go against you.”
Arthur was confused. Who were the two men referring to? Another threat, one that could conceivably aid Morgana in her attempts to conquer Camelot and possibly burn all of Albion to the ground? Perhaps he should break into the conversation, no matter how rude it would be, and demand answers.
Before he could, though, he suddenly found Emrys in front of him, his hand absently rubbing the nose of Arthur’s horse. “Here we must part ways, Your Majesty,” the old man said. “I have a great deal to do elsewhere.”
Arthur nodded, his mind still full of questions. “I see,” he said slowly. “Will we ever meet again?”
Emrys smiled faintly. “Oh, I imagine so,” he replied. “Your servant will undoubtedly rejoin you somewhere along the journey back.” His smile faded and he adopted a much more serious expression. “He would do anything for you, Sire. Has done everything for you. I pray you will remember that in the future.”
Before Arthur could even begin to think of a response to such a strange statement, the old man whirled and walked briskly into the foliage. Arthur could hear him muttering and chuckling to himself as he walked, behaving like a demented old fool.
Layers on top of layers. Complexity beneath a veneer of simplicity.
Like Merlin, if Arthur was honest with himself.
Tintagel
Elaine’s fourth name day celebration is today. For the past week, gifts from my lords have been arriving, leaving the servants scrambling to keep them hidden until today. Elaine, my clever girl, knows that we’re all keeping secrets from us and has been scouring the castle for answers.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt Tintagel feel so festive. I certainly don’t remember it ever being so when I was a child. But Elaine’s birthday combined with my own new pregnancy and the news that Ygraine is finally pregnant - Tristan brought that news when he returned from visiting Camelot, though he seemed troubled about the subject - has made for a very happy atmosphere here at home.
Addendum: I look at what I wrote above this, and curse my stupidity for tempting the gods to take away what I gloated about.
Elaine’s birthday feast - very much scaled down to be fit for a little girl of four and a host of children from the city, the servants’ children, and some of the noble children that were visiting with their parents - was almost at an end when we had an unexpected arrival.
A priestess of the Old Religion had come to call upon us, and she came hand in hand with a young girl as fair-haired as Elaine, but with dark eyes while my daughter’s are blue. How strange, Morgause’s eyes. Tristan’s are blue, while Vivienne’s were grey. I cannot remember the colors of my parents’ eyes, but can only assume that she inherited such a color from one of them, since Aglovale and Ygrisa both had blue eyes as well.
The priestess, a woman called Lisanor, is Morgause’s guardian among their order, and she felt that it was appropriate that my niece be at least somewhat acquainted with the family that bore her. Now that Vivienne is gone, Tristan is her sole remaining parent, and Elaine is her half-sister. She has me, her aunt, of course, but I could not hope to replace what she lost when Vivienne sent her away. Morgana, her other half-sister, is deep within Camelot and near the watchful eyes of Uther, where Morgause dares not show her face for the time being.
Looking at my sister’s firstborn, who looks more like Tristan than anyone else, what could I do but agree to Lisanor’s request? Still, I cannot help but feel uncertain about the girl - there is something intense, something… strange about her. Ruthless, driven. And she’s barely a girl of nine.
Of course, Elaine knows nothing of this. She knows only that a pretty older girl has come to play with her, and she is enthralled with her. It’s actually a little sweet, since Morgause seems inclined to indulge her sister-cousin.
With nothing more to do but to return to Tintagel, Arthur offered the use of Merlin’s horse in order to transport Vevay’s body, which was quietly accepted. The knights of Cornwall were careful to keep the dead princess’ body wrapped in his cape, keeping her completely covered and out of sight of the children, who still clung to their parents with single-minded determination, their eyes bright with fear.
Arthur’s own knights flanked him as the large group began its journey back through the forest. It would take time to reach Tintagel, as they were proceeding slowly in deference to Elaine’s delicate health, but he estimated that they would reach the city well before nightfall.
The first leg of the journey was spent in relative silence, and was interrupted only when they heard the sound of someone tramping through the undergrowth. The knights of Cornwall pressed in on their royal family protectively, but when Merlin tripped out of the brush to land on his knees in front of them, everyone relaxed.
“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. “There you are!” Relief shot through him. For all of Emrys’ assurances, Arthur hadn’t been entirely at ease until he saw his friend with his own eyes. The last time they had been separated under such chaotic conditions, Merlin had been kidnapped by bandits that had, upon reflection, quite possibly been in the employ of Agravaine and Morgana. That he was here, unharmed and as clumsy as ever, soothed Arthur like nothing else.
“Yes, Sire, I’m here,” Merlin replied as he pushed himself to his feet. He nodded toward Elaine and her family, but then focused on Arthur. “Were the Druids able to help?” he asked.
Arthur nodded. “They’re taking Morgana with them,” he said simply. He would explain everything in more detail later, when they were back in Tintagel. The thought made him glance around. The others were resuming their journey, leaving Arthur and his knights behind, and there was no horse for Merlin, since his was bearing Vevay’s body.
Turning back to Merlin, he gestured him forward. “Come on,” he ordered. “Get up behind me.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t argue with him. Arthur leaned down and allowed the other man to grasp his arm to hoist himself up onto the horse. Once Merlin was settled, Arthur nudged the animal forward.
Upon their return to the castle, Elaine and both of her children were immediately whisked off by fussing maidservants for baths and examination by the court physicians. Given Elaine’s pregnancy and the horrors she had witnessed today, Arthur didn’t blame them for being concerned for her health, or for that of her children.
Pellinore approached him as everyone else began to wander off to their own chambers to clean themselves up. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice weary, “I must thank you for your help today. If -”
Arthur held up his hand. “You owe me nothing, my lord. I am just grateful that I was able to be of assistance.” He felt contrition well up in him. “It was my sister who has wrought such pain on your lives, so it was only right that I attempt to help rectify the situation.”
Pellinore shook his head. “None of this is your fault. In truth, we should have expected something like this to happen. Morgana had been pushing Elaine to stand against Camelot just as Morgause had. It was only a matter of time before Elaine’s constant refusals would have incited Morgana to take more desperate measures.” He sighed, running his hand through his dark curls tiredly. “There will be much to do in the coming days - my mother-in-law’s funeral rites, Elaine’s coronation. I know my lady would have you know that you are free to remain as our guest to observe, if you wish.”
Arthur nodded, considering the idea. He could easily send word to Camelot of what was happening here and let them know that he would be remaining to see the approaching ceremonies. He wasn’t expected home for some time anyway, and with Morgana now in the care of the Druids, the biggest threat to Camelot’s security had been dealt with.
“I would be honored to stay.”
Tintagel
Gods, what is happening to us? Word has arrived from Camelot - Ygraine is dead from childbirth, having given birth to a son, Arthur. Uther’s letter is full of mad ramblings, accusations of magic being the cause, that Nimueh murdered her. The letter was so nonsensical that I asked Tristan what was talking about, this nonsense about Nimueh. Tristan, however, was so furious that he could barely answer me. Hearing of Ygraine’s death seems to have driven him as mad as Uther, and he spat out a short explanation that horrified me.
It seems that Uther had lost faith that Ygraine would ever have a child of her own, so he sent his physician, Gaius, to seek the aid of the priestesses. Gaius brought Nimueh, who is now a full-fledged member of that order, to court to discuss the possibility of using magic to facilitate a pregnancy for Ygraine. Tristan was there during the discussions, and heard Nimueh warn Uther that there would be a price to pay. Uther had sworn that he would pay any price that was deemed necessary, but he needed a lawful heir.
It seems he has one, now, but the price was the life of his queen. Only now Uther is claiming that Nimueh deliberately killed Ygraine as an act of spite.
Then, as if all of this wasn’t horrible enough, there are the additional reports that are coming from my people in Camelot. Uther is not idle in his new hatred of magic. He is rounding up every sorcerer in Camelot that he can lay his hands on and executing them. Some are dying by the ax, but more and more are being tied to pyres and dying by fire. Men, women, and children alike are being burned by fire and the rage of their king.
Tristan wasn’t idle either. He packed a saddlebag and ordered his horse saddled, declaring that he was going to Camelot. He swore that he’d kill Uther before he killed anyone else or ruined Arthur as he ruined Ygraine. As angry as I was with Uther, I tried to dissuade him, to wait until he was in a better frame of mind, but nothing I said could stop him. Even Elaine heard that her father was about to depart and came running into the courtyard to latch onto him. Normally his daughter’s presence would be enough to stay my husband, but not this time. He hugged her briefly and then shrugged her off into my arms in his hurry to be gone, leaving us to watch him ride out of Tintagel and toward Camelot.
Gods know what will become of all of us.
The funeral rites were a bit more elaborate than the ones that had been observed in Camelot. Whereas Arthur had observed a vigil in solitude, watching - and weeping - over his father’s body throughout the night, followed by a short, solemn procession where six knights had borne his father’s body to the royal crypts. There, they had placed his father in the sarcophagus next to that of Arthur’s mother. A few solemn words were intoned by Geoffrey, and that had been the end of it.
There were many similarities between Camelot’s traditions and those of Cornwall. There was a vigil to be held, but due to Elaine’s condition - the physicians had not determined that she was in danger of losing her unborn child, but had strenuously advised that she rest as much as possible for the foreseeable future - she was unable to participate. As a result, Pellinore had stood vigil in his wife’s place, and he was not alone. Several knights also participated, and even many of the servants, including Vevay’s personal nurse and her maidservant. Both women wept in silence, and Arthur could easily make out the self-recrimination in their eyes.
The following morning, Arthur joined the procession as Vevay’s body was borne by a special carriage through the city, past the silent crowds that had gathered to pay their final respects to the princess who had been gone from them for years, but never lost. The crypts for the royal family were outside of Tintagel, surprisingly, and at Pellinore’s invitation, Arthur was one of the men who carried Vevay into the crypt. Her sarcophagus stood alone near the back of the crypt, and Arthur was reminded yet again that her husband’s body should, by all rights, have been laid to rest here instead of in Camelot.
By contrast, Elaine’s subsequent coronation was a rife of cheer and celebration. Where everyone had dressed somberly and discreetly during the funeral rites, the city exploded into a rife of color and smiles as Elaine walked to the gates of the city where, by tradition, the princes of Cornwall were crowned in full view of their people. She knelt just outside the gates, resplendent in blue robes unlike any Arthur had ever seen. Clearly this was some kind of fashion that Cornwall had kept to themselves.
A herald cried out, “People of Cornwall, say you will have Elaine, daughter of Vevay and Tristan, as your Princess? Yay or nay?”
The response was completely one-sided, and quite deafening to boot.
The ensuing celebrations were exuberant, to say the least. Gwaine enjoyed himself immensely, imbibing liberally on the free-flowing spirits offered and trying to get Merlin to join him. Thankfully, Merlin seemed to have gained some control of his need to consume large amounts of alcohol, and was thus in a better position to make sure Gwaine didn’t disgrace himself, not that Arthur thought that he would. Gwaine was generally a cheerful drunk, as opposed to a sullen or mean one.
Arthur didn’t have much of a chance to speak extensively with Elaine, due to the constant demands on his time, but what time he did have with her was filled with her telling stories. She spoke of the things her mother had told her as a child, but also stories of her own childhood. She had few memories of Tristan, but the ones Elaine did have she treasured, and was happy to share them with him. Arthur was thus able to have a clearer picture of the man who had been his mother’s twin brother. Elaine remembered him with the adoring eyes of a child, but that was perhaps as it should be. Arthur tried not to think of how he would have been at the end, so full of anger and hate that he threw himself into a challenge in a vain attempt to avenge the sister he’d lost.
Tintagel
A letter arrived from Camelot. Tristan was killed. By Uther. He apparently came to Camelot and challenged Uther, claiming that Uther would pay for killing Ygraine with his own death. They fought, and Uther killed him. Uther then ordered that Tristan’s body be laid to rest in the royal crypts next to Ygraine, instead of returning him to his widow, as would be proper.
My husband is dead. My husband is dead.
My son is dead too. My son died the moment I read that letter, the moment I saw that Uther had killed Tristan. He slid slowly from my body and the physician later informed me that he was dead before he could draw breath in the outside world.
I hope the gods curse you, Uther Pendragon. I hope you suffer every day for the rest of your life, and in whatever lies beyond. You killed my husband and my son. I pray you never know peace, that your own children come to hate you.
I pray the gods curse Nimueh too. Meddling in things that ought not to be meddled with is what started all of this. I hope she and Uther both rot for what they have brought upon us.
I hope they both burn.
Addendum: I have ordered that all trade and contact with Camelot cease. Let Uther and his godforsaken kingdom rot.
I have commanded that if any knight of Camelot crosses the border, they are to be killed on sight and their head is to be sent back to their king. If Uther is so foolish to cross the border, he is to be brought to me.
I will cut out his heart personally.
After three days’ worth of celebrations, however, Arthur knew it was time for him and the others to return to Camelot. Elaine had her own work to focus on, as well as her family, and didn’t need the added strain of constantly having to entertain a visiting king.
The morning of their departure, however, found Arthur being dragged by Elaine into her study, away from pestering children and servants and Merlin who kept insisting that he had not misplaced Arthur’s tunic. He allowed his cousin to pull him over to her large desk where, he was surprised to see, there was a small chest sitting at the corner.
“This is for you,” she said, laying a hand on the chest. “I think you’ll find them… informative, to say the least.”
Arthur blinked. “Them?”
She glanced down and her own eyes widened briefly in surprise. “Oh, right.” With a few snaps and turns, Elaine flipped the lid open to reveal the chest’s contents.
Books. Several tiny bound tomes, all stacked neatly and to best advantage to take up as little space as possible. They filled the chest to the very top.
“They’re my mother’s diaries,” Elaine explained softly. “She gave them to me shortly after she handed me the regency of Cornwall. She said that it would be best if I had some kind of an understanding of all that had come before in her life.”
Arthur gazed at the contents of the chest, his heart pounding in his ears. These past few weeks had schooled him on so much about his family, more than he’d ever learned in all of his life before he’d come to Cornwall. But this? This was a treasure beyond price, and she was just offering it to him like this?
“I can’t promise that they will answer all of your questions,” Elaine continued, “but I think that they will give you at least some answers.”
He continued to stare at the books. Vevay would have written about his parents, he realized, about his mother’s family, and maybe even a little about his father’s, if he was fortunate. The life of his kin, before he was born and they tore each other apart.
“Thank you, cousin.” His tone was breathless, and his hand trembled as he carefully closed the lid. “I shall guard them with my life.”
They left the room together, the chest tucked securely under Arthur’s arm. As they strode through the corridors, intent on making their way to the courtyard where his knights and Merlin - provided he had managed to locate the missing tunic, of course - should be waiting for him, Arthur turned to Elaine. “I’d like to formally invite you and your family to visit me in Camelot in the future. It would be my honor to introduce you to my wife.”
Elaine beamed at him and stopped just before they walked out the doors of the castle. Leaning up, she pressed her lips against the skin of his cheek. “The honor would be ours to accept, Arthur. I fear it shall be some months,” she added, her hand drifting down to the swell of her stomach, “but I will certainly take you up on the offer as soon as feasible for both of us.”
Arthur grinned as they walked out the door together. He would tie the chest securely to his saddle, keeping it close on the journey home. He would start reading the diaries left behind by the aunt he’d barely known, and learn at least some of the secrets that had plagued him his whole life. He would return to Camelot, secure in the knowledge that, for the first time, he actually had a family.
As Arthur led his party out of Tintagel, Merlin appeared beside him. “So,” he said, “not bad for your first diplomatic visit, yes?”
Arthur glanced at him. “It was eventful, to say the least.”
Merlin nodded cheerily. “And hey, no woman came along and tried to enchant you into falling in love with her! That definitely makes it a success!”
“Merlin!”
End
Fic Master Post