Hello lovelies! This is the sequel to my story, the Once and Future Queen. If you have not read it, I recommend going back to my profile and reading that first.
To those who have read it, welcome! If you are confused at the end of this chapter, know that it was the goal. If you aren't confused, well…note that I took PLENTY of creative license! I am excited to use this story as a chance to explore some of Kaia's faults and Arthur's changed heart. I very much hope you enjoy the story, and thank you for your loyalty.
As a reminder, I enjoy constructive criticism. You are even welcome to leave a small note saying this isn't your cup of tea. Outright rudeness, however, is not welcome here. If you don't like something, don't read it. There is no need to use crude language or rude comments, especially towards other reviewers.
With that said, here is the start of the story! :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
As the moon rose over a small village, a young woman strode through the shacks around her. A minuscule ball of light bounced in front of her. While it barely illuminated the path before her, it most certainly lit up her face to reveal an almost excited appearance. Her dark eyes were heavy with an emotion that couldn't be placed. Anger? Anticipation? Amusement?
It could be argued that it was all three.
The young woman stopped at one of the smaller houses. Reaching forward, she waved her hand over the door to let it swing open quietly. She stepped inside quickly and let down her hood. A tumble of gold curls fell down her back and over her shoulders.
"The future shall come sooner than you think, little one," the woman smirked. She looked down on a family of three, her eyes trained specifically on a girl who appeared the age of four or five. She crouched beside her in the dark, a white hand waving once again over the small child. "Num."
Her eyes flashed gold.
"Now you shall feel no pain...for now."
Producing a thin knife and a circular vial from her cloak, the young woman sliced the palm of the girl. She drained blood into the vial in the efficient way of the priestess she was raised under. Upon blood filling half of the vial, she closed her hand over the child's and murmured a simple spell, eyes flashing gold. Quickly, she wiped away the remaining blood and stood. Her hand waved for a final time in that house and the girl could once again feel.
She disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.
When she felt her body solidify again, the blonde woman stood in a room vastly different from moments ago. It was lavishly decorated with silks and tapestries, elegantly carved wood, and a bed at the center of a room much too large for the boy sleeping in it. His head, covered in golden hair, was tucked deeply between two pillows. The woman sneered at him.
"Unnatural little beast," she hissed to herself. She slowly approached. His hand hung off the bed, a perfect opportunity, waiting for her retrieval. In moments, she'd repeated the process of filling the vial with his blood. "Oh, if only I could slit your throat now, little prince."
Alas, she could not.
With her task completed, the young woman left the castle and traveled across the land in mere moments. She landed in the ceremonial hall of an ancient building that crumbled around her.
An altar waited, the fire built upon it already blazing. The priestess almost didn't notice the girl who was tied to the pyre, screaming until her voice was hoarse.
"The virgin sacrifice completed, my lady," an older man in all black rags stated. Her screams grew louder. "Well, nearly completed."
"Thank you, Henrik."
"Anything for the Lady Morgause."
She smiled, chin raising as she stepped up the stone staircase that wrapped around the altar. Carefully, Morgause peered into the cauldron and smiled at the sight of the glowing gold potion. Without hesitation, she emptied the vial into it. The potion gurgled and churned on its own as she raised her arms towards the heavens. Drawing on the rising sun, Morgause bellowed a binding spell.
When the task was completed, Morgause used magic to lift the small cauldron to the ground. She emptied its contents into a ceremonial goblet while Henrik brought forth the other Druid girl.
"Drink," Morgause commanded. The girl obeyed with trembling hands, draining the cup until nothing remained. She cried out with the last swallow, knees hitting the hard stone of the alter she stood near.
"What have you done?" the woman asked, hands clutching her womb.
"Congratulations are in order, dear girl," Morgause sneered, yet it contained a wicked joy. "You carry the child who will one day rule Camelot."
"What shall we name him?" Henrik asked, striking the disgusted girls hair. "Hmm, sister? What will we name your child?"
"In the future, where he was naturally conceived, his name was Mordred," Morgause answered instead. "Prince Mordred, son of Arthur Pendragon and Malakaia Balinorson."
"What am I to do now?" the concubine whispered.
"The same as I," the priestess tapped the other girl's chin. "You wait."