Chapter Six
Mab sat upon the white horse gracefully as it meandered through the woodland bridging her realm and King Vortigan's. Mab smiled to herself at the thought of Vortigan; a hard man controlled only by is pride, she had abandoned him when she had created Merlin. At first she had missed him, but soon he had faded into the past for the faerie folk were not known for human emotions after all.
When Merlin had run away, Mab had scried Vortigan out; had continued to do so for some time. She had noted his harshness, his cold ways and decided he would be useful. Now she was on her way to visit an old friend.
As she passed through the forest she noted with some displeasure abandoned shrines and former Holy places. Against the golden leaves, wooden carvings of Gods and Goddesses lay forgotten, rotting on the woodland floor.
Mab raised her head determined. The old ways would be revived; she would make sure of it. With her assertion, magic circulated through the sacred places. It would only be a matter of time before new followers came back to worship her. She could offer so much to those who believed in her. What could those who called themselves Christian have to compare with such an offer? Empty hope and an empty dream of a Saviour who would never come! Mab laughed aloud. Trust humanity to put its faith in such an immaterial concept. She, Mab, was real. She was visible, her magic could be seen. Having faith in the Old Ways should have been so easy for them. Why did humanity have to complicate things?
Her horse ambled along the path, a silver light illuminating Mab all the way to Vortigan's castle. People stopped to stare at the strange apparition before wrapped in purple and black and silver; hair bound up in complicated braids. Those that looked into her green eyes saw dreams. Dreams of money, of greed, dreams of lust and passion, dreams of power, even dreams of sacrifice, all reflected and promised in Mab's emerald eyes. The awe and the fear was a palpable thing, an unspoken acknowledgement of a greater power than their puny own. The silence grew.
The King that stepped forward to greet her was older than she had remembered. Long years of war had added creases around ageless eyes that had seen too much. His mouth was set in a sardonic smile, but there was no real malice in Vortigan's face, almost as though such an expression had become simply a habit. If he recognised her, he showed no sign of it on his carved face.
"I am Mab, Queen of the Old Ways," she said with command. Vortigan gave a small half bow before holding out his hand. Mab placed her pale hand in his rough, calloused one and allowed him to help her dismount. She needed an ally, not a servant. And to achieve that she needed Vortigan to think himself strong enough to be her equal.
Vortigan turned suddenly to his subjects, those nearest to him cringing back in fear lest they somehow attract his wrath. "Queen Mab is my guest. Any man… or woman who disputes her power," at this Vortigan glared scathingly at a priest clutching a wooden crucifix, "shall face my wrath. Any questions?" They were not stupid. No one dared speak. Years of seeing violent punishments carried out for slight insults had taught Vortigan's people the value of silence.
He smiled coldly, "None? Didn't think so. Good." He held out his arm for Mab to rest hers upon before saying mockingly, "Shall we?"
A very interesting man, Mab thought to herself as she allowed herself to be taken into Vortigan's fortress. The years made me forget… such an interesting, dangerous man but so very, very stupid.
Vortigan sat on his wrought iron throne deep in thought. He was remembering his ascent to power, wrested from others after years of fighting. In the end it was not a man of noble birth who had become a contender for King Constance's throne, nor even a man of money or resources. Vortigan had reached the great heights by trusting no one, setting brother against brother so none were left to challenge him when the final day of reckoning came. With his memories of the first great military victories he remembered another… a fearie queen of immense power.
Vortigan knew power when he saw it, knew that to use power was to win. Mab had been younger than, as humans reckoned time. She had been more trusting, more innocent of the darker side to humanity. In her lack of knowledge she had trusted Vortigan's promise. If Mab put him on the throne, Vortigan would enforce the Old Ways rule throughout the land. At least that was the agreement in place till Vortigan had the crown firmly on his head.
Vortigan was a man who understood power, not religion. As he sat in the cold throne room, he thought to himself, "I didn't need her then and I don't need her now to defeat Uther. I depend on me to survive." He smiled the sardonic smile Mab had witnessed earlier, "Though to be Allies for now could be useful."
His mocking smile slowly changed at this thought. His expression became softer on his rugged face; somehow warmer, more human and less predatory. He was remembering his youth again. A would be King about to start a Civil War, he had accepted all the Allies he could get: including Mab.
She had been very beautiful, in an unearthly, ethereal way. Vortigan had lusted for her from the first day she had ridden into his camp. She had always been just out of his reach, her sensual nature making a constant mockery of him. Because he was Vortigan and it was in his nature to deceive, he had betrayed her, but even as he had betrayed, he had loved.
In his foolishness he had thought she was human, forgetting her immense power and her harsh rages. She left his demesne a week after he became King and he never saw her again. He had taken no Queen since that day, never really looked at another woman. Vortigan had thought he was he master of his own destiny, never once realising that destiny ha d taken him up in his claws. He loved her and she had left him and his pride had stopped him from seeking her out, indeed, as it would stop him now.
The soft expression became one of despair. He had thought of her every day after she had left; her ivory skin, lustrous elaborate dark hair and those frighteningly intense green eyes, but never had he entertained the notion that she would return.
A single tear wove a path down his cheek. He wiped it away hastily lest anyone should see harsh King Vortigan human. She could never truly love him. She was Queen of the faerie folk and the faerie folk did not love.
Nimue saw Mab enter Vortigan's demesne and wondered. Looking at Queen Mab's lovely face she felt an inexplicable fear squeeze at her heart. For a few moments she couldn't breathe for an all encompassing terror seized her mind. She gasped for breath before kneeling at the foot of her bed to pray.
this is gonna take me forever to finish :P
