Chpt: 2#

The rocking of the boat lulled her thoughts like nothing else. So much, that she felt herself jumping when the body next to her took a deep breath. Her thoughts scattered, Morgan stared at the gasping rise of Arthur's chain-mail in puzzlement, before realization set in. Sitting up, she knelt as best she could in the boat, and lifted Arthur's eye lids to study the white, lifeless eyeballs. His spirit still searched for his body, obviously. Bending near his ear, Morgan whispered an enchantment into his ear.

"Bheith ido, Braithair", she bid, "Live again, brother."

The body shifted as life flowed into it. The eye's rolled until Arthur's murky, brown eyes focused on the world again. Morgan smiled and smoothed a hand over his shoulder. "Welcome back to life, Arthur."

The man once known as King of all England-Britain sat up as if waking from a dream. He gazed confusedly about the mists on the steaming lake. "Where am I at now?" he asked dazedly.

Morgan smiled. "On your way to Avalon, where you can live in peace, for once. Your well ready for one, in any case."

He turned those brown eyes on Morgan, not seeing her, but there was no mistaking the joy alight in them. "Avalon…I'm going to Avalon?"

Morgan studied his face of wrinkled amazement. The hair, thin with white age, began to thicken and crisp with a dark, rich brown that melted as if from his scalp. Even his skin began to smooth out, and in an instant, her young, handsome brother stood before her again. He looked like his father, Uther, and he would be proud of it, while Morgan prided herself on being the image of her father, Gorlois of Cornwall.

"We've just entered Avalon's water borders", she informed him, "See for yourself."

Arthur leaned out slightly of the barge to gaze into the mists eagerly, but his attention caught on his reflection in the water. In an instant of shock, he saw an image of his young self reflecting back at him in the water. After realizing it was not imagined, he ran a hand down his face, feeling where old wrinkles used to be, a fresh growth of beard. Arthur leapt to his feet, causing the barge to shift in the water. Morgan shot him an annoyed look, before she caught his.

"I remember now", he whispered, his voice a deadly whisper. He turned back to watch Morgan with narrowed eyes. "I'm supposed to be dead, or was. I was sent there by your son Mordrid…"

"Our son", Morgan interrupted quietly.

"He's no son of mine!" Arthur hissed, barely suppressing the shout he wanted to release. "You, Siur, would only think to betray me in so horrid a fashion as to have my own flesh and blood run me through with only the intent to take my throne!"

"Again, I correct you, Brathair", Morgan said calmly, "You betrayed the pact of Excalibur to uphold the old ways. You took our agreement and gave nothing back. I had to remove you. Politics and ruler ship are only decided one way in this age, Arthur, and that's war".

Arthur chose to ignore the last. "The old ways are savage and pagan!" he said the last with such vehemence, and was perversely pleased to see Morgan shudder. "I chose to uphold Christianity because it is clean and right. The old ways breed vile; Mordrid is proof of that."

"You forget the beauty of a summer solstice, Arthur, and that cold affection of parenting brought Mordrid. Guinivere is the only reason you even looked at Christianity, and you know it", she accused, "You sought what you know in your heart you did not understand, and that was Guinivere and her little cross. Anything to buy her love you would do: slay dragons, build churches, burn the heathens. And even then, it wasn't enough for her. Why, Arthur? Because she knew, in your heart, you ran with fawns and faeries, not saints and angels."

Arthur stood, unable to justify himself when his pride argued one thing, and, she was right, his heart demanded the another.

"Why am I going to Avalon?" he finally asked. He turned those solemn eyes back to her. "Could you faeries possibly want me back after the…misdeed I have supposedly done to you?"

Morgan searched his face without guile, and complete honesty. "Arthur, you belong in Avalon. You need Avalon. As for your misdeeds, in death all is forgiven. Understand me, Arthur," she warned, "Your spirit lives in Avalon now. Leave it, and you die. Your time in the world is done now…as is mine."

Arthur flexed his hand, the muscles strong and newly stiff. "Are you saying that if you or me steps into the mortal world again, we become dead corpses? Are we trapped?" he asked, wanting all the angles of his situation.

Morgan inclined her head. "More or less. I find Avalon a much more enjoyable place to live then in your Christian world. Magic is the heart of Avalon, which is why you and Excalibur are finally going home. Everyone is eccentric with joy." Morgan paused, before she could go off on a passionate display, then frowned as she ran her gaze over her brother's chain mail. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, not sure why her mood shifted to intense so suddenly.

"Arthur," Morgan began after a bit, "where is Excalibur?" Arthur frowned at her, and his hand, formed of habit, reached to his waist where Excalibur should have hung. Feeling it not there, he felt a moment of panic, before he remembered.

"Before I died, I had one of my knights throw it back to the Lady of the Lake. I didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands…as it nearly did", he finished, somewhat bitterly.

Morgan got to her feet and uttered a stream of curses in clipped faerie language that had Arthur nearly smiling at the translation.

"Brathair, you gave it to her? Now, she might have given it to you before, but it was made in Avalon! Not in the Lake! She cannot keep it, it belongs to us!" Morgan leaned over the edge of the boat and scowled into the water.

"Well, it might be a little difficult getting her to give it back. But, I think I can make her see reason. I'd rather not fight with the old water droplet."

At this, the boat jarred to a neat stop in the water, and the mists seemed to close in more. Arthur sighed heavily, and sat down comfortably in the barge. "Now you've gone and insulted her. Does this mean we row to Avalon?" he required mildly.

Morgan turned to him, still standing, and raised an eyebrow. "You're rowing to Avalon. I'm going for a swim." With that, Morgan slipped over the side, and sank like a stone into the dark water.

Arthur opened his mouth to protest being left alone, but realized it was a little late for that. He might have grown up part of the time in Avalon, but his adult experience there had not been pleasant, especially with Morgan involved. Why, he wondered, was he looking forward to it again? Avalon was dangerous to un-experienced travelers. Magic creatures could be deadly, as well as beautiful. Deciding to follow Morgan's hurried instructions, he lifted the spare oar from under the eaves and began to row, in a direction he hoped led to Avalon's shores.