My Own Flesh and Blood
The day was bright and the sun bathed the land in a warm light. Birds chirped merrily as they fluttered from tree to tree and a cool breeze rustled the green leaves. An elegantly dressed woman, Morgana, sat perched on a blanked underneath an ancient oak tree, a book open in her lap. Her long, black hair swayed slightly in the cool breeze and her blue eyes swept across the book pages intently. She looked up as the sound of rustling leaves and voices reached her ears. A tall woman with long, curly blond hair and fierce eyes appeared from the trees, her sister Morgause. She was clad in a complicated red dress and a smile adorned her face. Seeing that smile made one creep onto Morgana's lips. Her smile grew even wider as her eyes fell upon the boy her older sister's arm was around. The boy broke into a run and threw his arms around Morgana's neck. She wrapped him in her own arms and hugged him tightly.
"He did exceedingly well today." Morgause said happily.
"Did he? I trust you didn't teach him anything too dangerous?" Morgana replied, a hint of humor in her eyes.
"Me? Of course not sister." Morgause replied sarcastically, her eyes glinting with amusement.
"Aunt Morgause taught me how to throw arrows with magic and how to block them too!" The boy said excitedly as he broke away from Morgana.
"Oh, did she now?" Morgana asked, one eyebrow raised. "How many times have I told you to keep the horseplay to a minimum?"
"Morgana, as his aunt it's my job to teach him things you don't approve of."
"Don't worry, Mother. I was careful not to out do her." The boy said teasingly. Both women laughed at this and Morgana kissed his brow lightly.
The sky was crimson red and the ground cried out with the blood of magic users. Fire burned hungrily throughout the forest, cackling sinisterly to the sky above. Morgause was in a heavy battle with three Knights of Camelot, blood trickling down her arm from a long gash. Morgana was likewise engaged as she blocked yet another blow from her assailant. She ducked underneath the swing of his blade and thrust her sword up through his abdomen. A heavy blow to her head sent her crashing to the ground, her head and explosion of pain as blood ran down her face. She got to her feet and lunged at her attacker, wrenched his sword from his grasp and wiped his head clean off his shoulders.
"Help!" A panicked voice shouted from inside Morgana's head. Her entire being shook with the urgency and fear she heard in her son's voice. She rushed towards where she knew the sound was coming from, her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest. As she broke through the trees into a small clearing, she caught sight of a knight with a drawn bow pointed at her son. Anger and panic alike burned ferociously through Morgana. The knight released the taught string and the arrow flew straight at the terror-stricken boy.
"No!" Morgana shrieked, causing flames to leap at the knight and envelope him.
"No!" Morgana screamed, bolting upright in bed. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute and her entire body was trembling. He was her son. Mordred, the boy she had grown so fond of, was her own flesh and blood. Morgana rose from her bed and went to her window. As she peered out at the starry night sky, the memories came rushing back to her. The night with Arthur, who was only recently revealed to be her half-brother; the nine months away from Camelot; and the plot to make the child age to the age of five within a year. After all, if word got out that the son of Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana existed, the child would be in constant, terrible danger. But how could she not remember that she had a son? How could she forget her own flesh and blood? Then she knew. The thought hit her like a freight train and her breath caught in her throat. She took her dagger, slid it into her belt, and threw on her crimson cloak. She locked her chamber door behind her and started down the castle corridors at a smooth, ghostlike pace. Her eyes burned with an icy hatred and her aura was venomous and dangerous. She lifted her hood and brought it to cover her raven hair and shad her face; her boots clicked with every step.
When she reached the strong, double oak doors, she came to an abrupt halt. She whispered words of the Old Religion, causing the bolts to faithfully unlock. She pushed the doors open, careful not to make a sound, and locked them again behind her.
Uther Pendragon, the King of Camelot, was in a peaceful slumber, unaware of his visitor. Morgana stalked to the side of the bed, hatred consuming her more and more with each step. Her hand slid to the handle of her dagger and her fingers grasped its cool surface. She wanted nothing more than to thrust the cold steel into the flesh of the man before her, to make him bleed. Why not? After all, this man had killed her "father," refused to admit that she was his daughter, locked her in the dungeons, killed countless innocents, and had tried to kill Mordred. He had tried to kill her son. It was Uther who took the memory of her child away from her. The man who feared magic above all else had used it to preserve both his and his son's precious prides. For all of this and more, Morgana hated him. She slowly started to pull the blade from its sheath, thirsting for the blood of the man before her.
Suddenly, a cool hand firmly grasped Morgana's wrist. She turned to see Mogause standing next to her.
"Now is not the time, sister." Morgause whispered into Morgana's ear.
"He has taken everything from me!" Morgana hissed. "He must die!"
"Yes, and he will give it all back. But we must wait for the right moment." Morgana took a deep breath and loosened her grip on her dagger, allowing it to slide back into the sheath. She touched Uther's forehead and whispered and incantation to keep him from waking and so she could enter his mind.
"Uther Pendragon, unruly King of Camelot, murderer of children, executor of innocents, liar and coward; I swear that I will get you. I will have you suffer as I have suffered. I will have you watch as I take everything from you. I will take your son away from you, as you took mine from me. And then I will end you. And you Uther, you will rot in Hell." Morgana whispered venomously into Uther's ear. She then kissed his brow with the kiss of death, and only when she felt him begin to struggle against the nightmares she has instilled in him, did she release him. She straightened and strode out the door, Morgause right on her heels.
Once the two women were in the hall, Moraguse locked Uther's door once more and turned to face her little sister. Morgana's body trembled and tears streamed down her face. Morgause offered a reassuring smile and tucked some of Morgana's hair behind her ear.
"Do not fret, sister. Uther will pay for his crimes; I promise you that." Morgana could only nod in response. Morgause pulled her sister into a tight embrace.
"How did you know?" Morgana questioned as she rested her head on Morgause's shoulder.
"Your distress and pain were so great that I could feel them myself." Morgause replied, stroking her sister's hair. "There is no need for worry. I will keep Mordred safe until you can be with us. After all, it seems I am now an aunt." Morgause said with a smile. "Try and get some rest, sister." She instructed. She then kissed Morgan's brow and disappeared in a whirlwind. Morgana folded her arms around herself, attempting to shield herself from the biting cold of the loneliness that now plagued her heart. She turned and slowly made her way back to her chambers, aching for her sister's warm embrace and to hold her own son in her arms.