Disclaimer: I own nobody that you would know (the unknown characters
are my own invention), if I did, I wouldn't be writing about them in
fanfiction, would I?
Author's Notes: You might later notice that I used a lot of the same names that appear in the King Arthur's court stories. They're not supposed to be the characters from those stories, I just used the names because I like the stories and I like the names, thought you guys might like to know :)
"Your training is nearly complete," said a voice, cold and sibilant. It sliced through the air and it was silent save the sounds of a young girl's heavy breathing. She stood before the man who spoke, in a position of respect and loyalty, bent down on one knee, her forehead nearly touching the cold marble floor. Sweat cooled quickly on her brow as the silence reigned on.
"You may rise." She did so and met the man's eyes squarely for a split second before lowering them to the ground. The man had a lean built, strong but not bulky. He sat with an air was grace, dignity, and coldness. Dark hair was gathered loosely at the nape of his neck and he wore silky black robes that reached the ground.
"Return to me tomorrow once more, you are dismissed for the day." The girl bowed once, right hand to forehead, and retreated in that position, half bent. As soon as she was out of the sight of the man, she straightened up and headed straight for the practice field.
She picked up a bow and arrow and took position to aim, thinking. She was nearly complete with her training.
Whizz
The arrow thudded neatly to the center of the ring. She had been training with this man since she was five. Training to be an assassin. A Black Dragon. The best of the kind.
Whizz
Another arrow joined the one already in the center. She had been the best of the family, showing skills in areas that her brothers never seemed to have. And now she was nearly done.
Whizz
A third arrow neatly split the other two arrows, landing dead center. A Black Dragon. Finally. A coveted position, many tried to reach that point but many died trying. The training was hard and demanding but not only that, you had to be devoid of any emotion other than determination. She walked to the target and gently plucked out all the arrows and threw the two ruined ones away. She walked away only to be greeted by a young man.
"Morgause," he said with a brief nod.
"Gaheris." She returned the formal greeting. No one would have ever suspected that these two were siblings had they not had such a startling resemblance. They both had the same long, glossy dark hair and piercing eyes. That's where the family friendliness ended. Everybody who even started training were to leave every sentiment and emotion and memories behind. Although Gaheris was two years older than Morgause, she still looked at him level in the eyes.
Gaheris nodded a quick goodbye and left. Morgause also walked on, her soft shoes padding softly down the long marble hallway. She came to her chamber and lied down on the bed. The sheets were fresh, Elaine must have come in to clean up today. Not that there was much to clean up in the first place. Her room was bare save the bed, a writing desk, and a chair in front of the fireplace.
Morgause wondered who Igraine would set her up with, given that she'd pass the final test and become a Black Dragon, that is. Igraine and been her personal trainer ever since she began to show promise at becoming a capable assassin. She imagined chasing, tracking, the challenge and began to feel her blood grow warm. Igraine had called that blood wrath or war wrath and only said that a blessed few possessed it.
Morgause knew that her days would be numbered the minute she stepped out of Igraine's castle. She knew her days were numbered in Igraine's castle. Igraine himself possessed a terrible temper, an unfortunate many had died by his hands. Morgause shook her head and made ready for bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Morgause stood silently. The grass fluttered slightly in the cold wind. It was blowing away from her, a stroke of bad luck. Morgause strained to hear Igraine notch an arrow and pull it back behind her, a hundred yards away. Then, she heard it being released and immediately, turned around and caught it. It was headed just to her heart. Morgause drove the arrow into the ground. The test wasn't over yet. Oh no, Morgause knew better. She drew her sword and advanced on Igraine. They circled warily then Morgause launched herself into an attack that Igraine parried away. His dark hair was pulled away more tightly from his face and if he was tired, he showed no sign of it. Igraine started on a complex disarming move that Morgause recognized and quickly pulled away. Then, she feinted to Igraine's stomach then quickly spun around and brought the sword neck level. Igraine grabbed one of the spectators nearby and threw him on himself like a shield. The unlucky man dropped to the ground, dead before he even realized it. She nearly disarmed Igraine when he held up a hand.
"You have passed," he said, quietly. The time keeper nodded. Morgause had stayed alive for the longest ten minutes of her life. She held the sword, point down, in the two palms of her hand and bowed. She offered her sword to Igraine but he closed both her hands over it. Morgause didn't flinch as the cold metal dug into her palms and drew blood.
"Follow me." Igraine turned and Morgause followed. She found herself in Igraine's study. She caught her breath. No one who was not a Black Dragon had entered this chamber. Igraine motioned for her to sit and Morgause did, reluctantly. She was still energized from the fighting.
"You have now become a Black Dragon. You are to do as you are told. You are like the majestic creature, one who tracks and kills. You are dignified and merciless." With that, he took out a dark pendant and put it around Morgause's neck. It was cold and Morgause could feel her blood chill at the touch of it.
"This is the sign of the Black Dragon. You must not show it to anyone, it is to remind you of who you are." Morgause nodded, savoring every word. Igraine turned to pull something out and he spread it on the table in front of Morgause. It was a parchment showing a picture of an elf and information.
"This is the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf. He is the heir to the throne of Mirkwood. If I am to conquer, he must die."
"Mirkwood is hardly as important as Rivendell or Minas Tirith. Why not conquer those?" Morgause asked.
"I do not have enough to hardly make a suitable army yet. We must make up for what we lack in numbers for cleverness. If you were assigned to kill a king, would you walk right in through the front hall or would you sneak in through a window?" Morgause nodded. She still didn't understand why he hadn't assigned her to kill the King of Mirkwood. She was capable enough, why didn't Igraine believe that?
"He is not an easy fish to catch," said Igraine. "They say he could shoot a running, full grown hare in the dark."
"No one can best me in archery," said Morgause. She had started to hit moving targets when she was seven, moving targets in the dark at age twelve. Igraine's face remained expressionless.
"I don't care how you do it. I don't care how many else will have to die. You will bring me back his head at the maximum time of five full moons. If you fail to do so, you must perish with him." This was not a threat, this was a promise. Morgause herself had witnessed someone die at Igraine's order because he was barely half a day late for his own deadline. Morgause didn't care. She was not afraid to die and if sacrificing herself meant a job well done, she'd do it. That was another thing that made Black Dragons even more terrifying. They were not afraid to die, they had nothing to lose.
Despite a near death sentence, Morgause could feel herself getting ready. She wanted to move and she wanted to move now.
"Go." Morgause bolted from the room. She had no time to spare. Morgause grabbed a few change of clothes and ran to the stables and hopped onto her horse. Everyone under Igraine's training had learned how to control a horse without reins or saddles. Their job required quick getaways, time could not be squandered on saddling a horse. As she rode off, Morgause fingered the pendant. It was still cold but she had gotten used to the iciness of its feel. Morgause knew where she was heading, she had also been the top of her geography studies. If she hurried, she could get to the outskirts of Mirkwood in less than a day.
Morgause murmured soothing comments to her horse Andulet, the only thing she had compassion for in the world. She planned to make this a quick trip, she would kill the Prince and be out of there in less time it took for the moon to completely wax and wane once.
The sun was starting to set when her great horse finally tired and she came across what she recognized as Mirkwood. She dismounted and, making no sound, walked carefully. Andulet, also trained, followed her. The sounds of the forest seemed almost deafening to Morgause. Then she heard a rustle beneath her, at the bottom of the edge of the cliff. She quietly slithered to the ground and, as skillfully as a snake, made her way to the edge and looked over. There was someone down there. It was obvious that it was an elf. But the elf's back was towards her and she could not see their face. They had a slight built, whoever 'they' were. Then suddenly, the ground beneath her started to wiggle and come loose and before she could jump back, Morgause tumbled down the drop and collided with the unknown elf.
"Sorry," she muttered. A true Black Dragon wouldn't have let this opportunity go. Why hadn't she shot the elf when she had the chance? Good for her if it was the Prince of Mirkwood, didn't matter if it wasn't.
A white hand grabbed her own and pulled her to her feet. Morgause kept her eyes on the ground, still furious with herself.
"It is getting late and the forests of Mirkwood are not a safe place for anyone to be. If you do not already have shelter, you may stay with my father and I," the elf said. He grinned, though it was lost on Morgause because she was still looking down. "A hospitality thing. My father loves visitors," he added, less formally. Finally Morgause looked up and caught her breath. Of all the luck, she was staring straight into the face of the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf.
Author's Notes: You might later notice that I used a lot of the same names that appear in the King Arthur's court stories. They're not supposed to be the characters from those stories, I just used the names because I like the stories and I like the names, thought you guys might like to know :)
"Your training is nearly complete," said a voice, cold and sibilant. It sliced through the air and it was silent save the sounds of a young girl's heavy breathing. She stood before the man who spoke, in a position of respect and loyalty, bent down on one knee, her forehead nearly touching the cold marble floor. Sweat cooled quickly on her brow as the silence reigned on.
"You may rise." She did so and met the man's eyes squarely for a split second before lowering them to the ground. The man had a lean built, strong but not bulky. He sat with an air was grace, dignity, and coldness. Dark hair was gathered loosely at the nape of his neck and he wore silky black robes that reached the ground.
"Return to me tomorrow once more, you are dismissed for the day." The girl bowed once, right hand to forehead, and retreated in that position, half bent. As soon as she was out of the sight of the man, she straightened up and headed straight for the practice field.
She picked up a bow and arrow and took position to aim, thinking. She was nearly complete with her training.
Whizz
The arrow thudded neatly to the center of the ring. She had been training with this man since she was five. Training to be an assassin. A Black Dragon. The best of the kind.
Whizz
Another arrow joined the one already in the center. She had been the best of the family, showing skills in areas that her brothers never seemed to have. And now she was nearly done.
Whizz
A third arrow neatly split the other two arrows, landing dead center. A Black Dragon. Finally. A coveted position, many tried to reach that point but many died trying. The training was hard and demanding but not only that, you had to be devoid of any emotion other than determination. She walked to the target and gently plucked out all the arrows and threw the two ruined ones away. She walked away only to be greeted by a young man.
"Morgause," he said with a brief nod.
"Gaheris." She returned the formal greeting. No one would have ever suspected that these two were siblings had they not had such a startling resemblance. They both had the same long, glossy dark hair and piercing eyes. That's where the family friendliness ended. Everybody who even started training were to leave every sentiment and emotion and memories behind. Although Gaheris was two years older than Morgause, she still looked at him level in the eyes.
Gaheris nodded a quick goodbye and left. Morgause also walked on, her soft shoes padding softly down the long marble hallway. She came to her chamber and lied down on the bed. The sheets were fresh, Elaine must have come in to clean up today. Not that there was much to clean up in the first place. Her room was bare save the bed, a writing desk, and a chair in front of the fireplace.
Morgause wondered who Igraine would set her up with, given that she'd pass the final test and become a Black Dragon, that is. Igraine and been her personal trainer ever since she began to show promise at becoming a capable assassin. She imagined chasing, tracking, the challenge and began to feel her blood grow warm. Igraine had called that blood wrath or war wrath and only said that a blessed few possessed it.
Morgause knew that her days would be numbered the minute she stepped out of Igraine's castle. She knew her days were numbered in Igraine's castle. Igraine himself possessed a terrible temper, an unfortunate many had died by his hands. Morgause shook her head and made ready for bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Morgause stood silently. The grass fluttered slightly in the cold wind. It was blowing away from her, a stroke of bad luck. Morgause strained to hear Igraine notch an arrow and pull it back behind her, a hundred yards away. Then, she heard it being released and immediately, turned around and caught it. It was headed just to her heart. Morgause drove the arrow into the ground. The test wasn't over yet. Oh no, Morgause knew better. She drew her sword and advanced on Igraine. They circled warily then Morgause launched herself into an attack that Igraine parried away. His dark hair was pulled away more tightly from his face and if he was tired, he showed no sign of it. Igraine started on a complex disarming move that Morgause recognized and quickly pulled away. Then, she feinted to Igraine's stomach then quickly spun around and brought the sword neck level. Igraine grabbed one of the spectators nearby and threw him on himself like a shield. The unlucky man dropped to the ground, dead before he even realized it. She nearly disarmed Igraine when he held up a hand.
"You have passed," he said, quietly. The time keeper nodded. Morgause had stayed alive for the longest ten minutes of her life. She held the sword, point down, in the two palms of her hand and bowed. She offered her sword to Igraine but he closed both her hands over it. Morgause didn't flinch as the cold metal dug into her palms and drew blood.
"Follow me." Igraine turned and Morgause followed. She found herself in Igraine's study. She caught her breath. No one who was not a Black Dragon had entered this chamber. Igraine motioned for her to sit and Morgause did, reluctantly. She was still energized from the fighting.
"You have now become a Black Dragon. You are to do as you are told. You are like the majestic creature, one who tracks and kills. You are dignified and merciless." With that, he took out a dark pendant and put it around Morgause's neck. It was cold and Morgause could feel her blood chill at the touch of it.
"This is the sign of the Black Dragon. You must not show it to anyone, it is to remind you of who you are." Morgause nodded, savoring every word. Igraine turned to pull something out and he spread it on the table in front of Morgause. It was a parchment showing a picture of an elf and information.
"This is the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf. He is the heir to the throne of Mirkwood. If I am to conquer, he must die."
"Mirkwood is hardly as important as Rivendell or Minas Tirith. Why not conquer those?" Morgause asked.
"I do not have enough to hardly make a suitable army yet. We must make up for what we lack in numbers for cleverness. If you were assigned to kill a king, would you walk right in through the front hall or would you sneak in through a window?" Morgause nodded. She still didn't understand why he hadn't assigned her to kill the King of Mirkwood. She was capable enough, why didn't Igraine believe that?
"He is not an easy fish to catch," said Igraine. "They say he could shoot a running, full grown hare in the dark."
"No one can best me in archery," said Morgause. She had started to hit moving targets when she was seven, moving targets in the dark at age twelve. Igraine's face remained expressionless.
"I don't care how you do it. I don't care how many else will have to die. You will bring me back his head at the maximum time of five full moons. If you fail to do so, you must perish with him." This was not a threat, this was a promise. Morgause herself had witnessed someone die at Igraine's order because he was barely half a day late for his own deadline. Morgause didn't care. She was not afraid to die and if sacrificing herself meant a job well done, she'd do it. That was another thing that made Black Dragons even more terrifying. They were not afraid to die, they had nothing to lose.
Despite a near death sentence, Morgause could feel herself getting ready. She wanted to move and she wanted to move now.
"Go." Morgause bolted from the room. She had no time to spare. Morgause grabbed a few change of clothes and ran to the stables and hopped onto her horse. Everyone under Igraine's training had learned how to control a horse without reins or saddles. Their job required quick getaways, time could not be squandered on saddling a horse. As she rode off, Morgause fingered the pendant. It was still cold but she had gotten used to the iciness of its feel. Morgause knew where she was heading, she had also been the top of her geography studies. If she hurried, she could get to the outskirts of Mirkwood in less than a day.
Morgause murmured soothing comments to her horse Andulet, the only thing she had compassion for in the world. She planned to make this a quick trip, she would kill the Prince and be out of there in less time it took for the moon to completely wax and wane once.
The sun was starting to set when her great horse finally tired and she came across what she recognized as Mirkwood. She dismounted and, making no sound, walked carefully. Andulet, also trained, followed her. The sounds of the forest seemed almost deafening to Morgause. Then she heard a rustle beneath her, at the bottom of the edge of the cliff. She quietly slithered to the ground and, as skillfully as a snake, made her way to the edge and looked over. There was someone down there. It was obvious that it was an elf. But the elf's back was towards her and she could not see their face. They had a slight built, whoever 'they' were. Then suddenly, the ground beneath her started to wiggle and come loose and before she could jump back, Morgause tumbled down the drop and collided with the unknown elf.
"Sorry," she muttered. A true Black Dragon wouldn't have let this opportunity go. Why hadn't she shot the elf when she had the chance? Good for her if it was the Prince of Mirkwood, didn't matter if it wasn't.
A white hand grabbed her own and pulled her to her feet. Morgause kept her eyes on the ground, still furious with herself.
"It is getting late and the forests of Mirkwood are not a safe place for anyone to be. If you do not already have shelter, you may stay with my father and I," the elf said. He grinned, though it was lost on Morgause because she was still looking down. "A hospitality thing. My father loves visitors," he added, less formally. Finally Morgause looked up and caught her breath. Of all the luck, she was staring straight into the face of the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf.