Hey, everyone! My apologies for taking so long in posting this chapter. I hit a real road block...Ugh! :) But, with Lady Proemess' awesome editing skills-Oh, she's amazing!- I finally got back on track. So, without further ado, here is Chapter Ten! Read, review, and hopefully enjoy my warped thinking process! :D And, of course, have a wonderful weekend. I plan to! We're expecting really nice weather for Mother's Day, and best of all...Spring looks ready to stay for a while! I'd better shut up before I jinx this wonderful city and get us covered in six feet of snow overnight! LOL
...Did I remind you to review? I'd hate to think I'd gotten so lax as to forget this all-important reminder...Tsk. ;)
Cheers and Ciao!
TheImpossiblePen
Chapter Ten
Morgana had draped herself over Uther's throne in the most preposterous manner possible as she amused herself watching the occupants of the main hall. Continuous thuds and grunts could be heard every few minutes as the silly soldiers kept on trying to smash down the glass windows in a futile attempt to reach her. It was rather boring how easy it was to keep them away, but Morgana didn't mind too much. In the unlikely case that they did get through, levitating the knights and the child fifteen feet above ground ought to halt their inane efforts.
One of the burliest knights – Percival perhaps - had kept his eyes flickering nervously between Morgana and the other inebriated knight, who was currently playing with a small blonde girl. It was clear to Morgana that stress and fear were taking a toll on the pair of knights she had taken; their faces were etched with lines and perspiration. Strange however, was how the oft drunk knight kept on trying to distract the blonde child from the current situation…
Percival strode to stand in front of the throne and folded his arms. If he hadn't been disarmed, he would have already run the woman through. "What do you want from us?" he hissed quietly. His eyes were stormy and dark, and he barely restrained himself in the witch's presence. "You have your audience with the King. Why hold hostages?" As hard as he tried to keep this conversation quiet, his voice still managed to carry across the massive hall. The big knight felt compelled to seek answers; he could not just sit and wait for things to happen.
The raven-haired, green-eyed woman smirked at the knight before her. With a single thought, she could kill the Knight...but that would be counter-productive. She would state her purpose, symbolically seizing the great Uther Pendragon's throne as she did this.
Morgana stood slowly, mere inches away from the knight. She glared at him as though he was the dirt beneath her shoes. Jutting her chin regally, standing straight and tall, shoulders back, she stated haughtily, "Insurance, Sir Percival; that is all." She leveled a gaze on the twosome seated at the wall, her eyes drawn particularly to the girl. "Have things in Camelot become so stale that you would resort to babysitting in your quiet hours?" She saw something feral peak in the Knight's eyes, saw the way he tensed up upon her mentioning the child.
Percival stood straighter still, hissing, "My lady, child-minding is a far more rewarding practice than negotiating with a witch." He hadn't missed the indignation that arose in Morgana's eyes.
Gwaine shot a derisive look at the witch as well, trying to keep the child sitting in his lap entertained with the few gold pieces he had on his person.
"Wow, this one's heavy," the little girl piped up, seemingly unaware of the rising tempers in the room. "How come this is heavier than my money?" Alexandra dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of American quarters, dimes and pennies. She had stashed the change from a shopping trip over a week ago in this same jacket, telling her mom she would be a big girl and hang onto it. Spreading them all out on the floor in front of her, she began showing Gwaine one at a time.
"See? That's President Lincoln. And this...this is President Washington!" Alexandra lowered the coin and looked up at Gwaine, beaming a huge grin. "I 'member Washington, 'cause my Grandpa used to work in Seattle, Washington!" Squirming in the Knight's grip, she turned and continued to babble. "You know what they say about the Marines?" Gwaine looked a little odd, she thought, but she continued. "The few, the proud; The Marines!" She clapped definitively. "Yup. Grandpa told me that. 'Cause he's a Marine, Gwaine, did you know that? He gets to carry a gun, an' he wears this really cool uniform! Got all kinds of metal stuff where my momma says the heart is supposed to be. She says it's all over the heart 'cause the Marines want to 'member the fall...fallen. Grandpa's got this one medal from the Gulf War. Momma says that was a long time ago, but she says my Grandpa was a...a...Sergeant." She finished, nodding, obviously proud of her ability to say all that and understand what it meant. "I love my grandpa. He's so awesome. An' you didn't get to meet my Uncle Danny!" Her big blue eyes were wide with growing excitement. There was an undercurrent of nervousness there that the Knight caught readily, and he offered her a reassuring smile, brushing wavy blond hair back off of her face.
Gwaine's eyes drifted from the talkative child, who was probably babbling out of sheer boredom and her rising fear, to his brother-at-arms. Percival was glaring at him, basically telling him to shut her up. She may have already said too much, for the witch's eyes traveled from Percival's tense form to rest on the child in front of Gwaine.
Morgana eyed the blond girl with renewed interest. Her heels clacked against the stone floor as she made her way over. "Well, someone certainly enjoys conversation," she said with forced joviality, hoping to lull the child into a false sense of trust. Lowering to the child's level, she met beautiful, familiar blue eyes...with a ring of hazel in the center. She smiled, cooing, "Oh, what an unusual surprise! You, my dear, are a Pendragon...I can see it. You look so very much like your father."
If looks could kill, Sirs Gwaine and Percival would have slain her already, she noted with obvious amusement. Percival's hand flew to where the hilt of his sword would have been, and Gwaine attempted to shift the child further away from Morgana. Her response was to send a simple, debilitating spell toward both of the knights. Both men clutched their heads, then, trying to fight off a particularly nasty throbbing inside of their skulls. Their attention was off of Alexandra and the witch long enough for Morgana to really look at the child.
Mordred's words tumbled around inside her head: "You must act before the foreign heir can be proclaimed. She will jeopardize your chance to bring Magic back, so that magic may rule…" Morgana had assumed that Mordred had been referring to a marriage, perhaps, a contract with another strong kingdom. She hadn't considered that the threat might refer to a child already in existence…
The red tint to the child's blond, curled locks of hair had the witch running through a mental list of faces she had passed while still the King's ward. This, she concluded, was a very new development. She noted the girl's odd clothing and smiled. "My, what a pretty butterfly...Where did you get such a trinket?"
Alexandra's kind gaze hardened. She did not like this woman. She was mean, and she looked like trouble. Getting a bit scared that the woman was so close, Alexandra squirmed tighter into Gwaine's arms. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she mumbled, her fingers playing with the butterfly zipper pull that hung from her jacket zipper. "Gwaine, tell her to go 'way," she pleaded, meeting the knight's brown eyes. He gave her a curt nod and drew her closer. Alexandra kept her head turned away from this strange woman, instead concentrating her gaze on the knight's chain-mail pattern.
Morgana tsk'd the child's suddenly withdrawn behaviour, rising when it was clear that the child would not speak to, let alone look at her willingly. She stood up and briskly walked to her throne. "What on earth is taking dear Uther so long to come to me?" she wondered aloud, seating herself elegantly. "The fool must be getting slow in his old age..."
A knock sounded and faces turned expectantly towards the sound. "Enter," Morgana purred, sending a gloating smirk towards the alarmed knights.
The heavy set of double doors swung inward. Morgana looked up and settled her eyes on the approaching figures, nearly all with swords drawn, the metal of weapons and armor alike glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the windows that adorned the far wall. Leading the entourage was King Uther himself, with his son at his side. The manservant followed only steps behind her half-brother. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife, she noted with satisfaction.
Uther was pale and lacking the general aura of good health. His grey orbs were trained on Morgana the entire time it took for the King to finally grace the dais where his throne sat. Truth be told, Uther looked far from well, but he would not admit defeat so readily and instead forced himself to stand straighter, clenching his jaw with the effort it took to appear in control.
The small group of guards behind Camelot's ruler shifted and shuffled anxiously, waiting to see where this confrontation might lead. They adopted offensive stances, ready to leap to their Liege's aide the moment he gave the word.
Morgana met the King's eyes and smirked. With a flick of the wrist, she closed each and every shutter over every window in that room, plunging the room into darkness. With another crook of the finger, all the sconces were lit, casting an eerie glow throughout. Straightening in her seat, she turned her head when the child cried out in fright across the room. She could hear the knight as he tried to soothe the child, and she noticed the effort it took for her dear brother to keep his eyes trained on her dark form.
"Is it so awful that a loving daughter might want to visit with her own father?" she began coolly, her intense gaze focused solely upon the King. "I will put this simply; I want your head…and I want the crown that rests atop of your head." She smirked in satisfaction when the aging King's eyes widened in poorly masked disbelief. "You will surrender the throne to me, Uther Pendragon, or I will kill them-"she pointed to the trio-"one by one, before your eyes, and send my soldiers in to raze all of the outlying villages. As we speak, they await my orders." Her voice rang out with strength and conviction, and such anger that those within her vicinity visibly shuddered. "I have only to give the word…"
Though it hurt immensely to look upon his incredibly ruthless daughter (though many would argue that she had learned that particular trait from the King himself), Uther looked around the room, settling a cold gaze on the sorceress. "Why take hostages if the throne is all that you seek? You are powerful, Morgana, we all know that. You could have taken the throne many times before. Why now?"
Morgana glared at the man. "Now is the perfect time," she sneered. "I have the foreign heir in my midst." She nodded toward the child. "The child shall have no right to the throne, because it ends today! Camelot will be MINE!"
Morgana's cold gaze scanned the room, and her eyes lingered on a very agitated looking woman. She could see how badly the woman wanted to bolt over toward the three hostages. "She is yours," she guessed, nodding at the woman. "For as much as she looks like a Pendragon, she has your stature." The woman nodded slightly, looking a bit nervous now. Morgana smirked, raising a brow in question. "Really? My brother? Has his arrogance escaped you?" Oh, yes, she caught Arthur's reaction. She continued to observe the pretty auburn-haired woman. "You seem so much more intelligent than that, but I suppose I could be wrong…"
Kelly swung her arms loosely at her sides as she walked, feigning confidence. "I can pick out the spineless jellyfish in a crowd." She met the woman's scathing glare, masking all emotion on her face with a bland stare. "You'd have to be spineless to pick on a small child, after all." She cocked her own eyebrow, challenging the witch. She heard Merlin hiss at her to stop this dangerous form of banter and simply flipped a hand out to shush him. "No, no. If she's going to go around seizing cities, she should be able to take it all in stride." She strode slowly toward Alexandra.
Her mind spun with the details she had already gone over in her head. She had a diversion in mind; a little something to throw the almighty witch straight onto her ass. Kelly did a bit of a calculated guesstimate as to how much distance she should put between others and Morgana. Yep, straight at Morgana's feet ought to do it…She prayed that Percival and Gwaine would react in time to save both themselves and Alexandra, if the blast was larger than she had anticipated...
"That is far enough," Morgana barked sharply, staring in disbelief at this cocky, insubordinate slip of a woman. "Take one more step, and I will destroy you!" Her eyes glowed gold, in preparation to cast a spell.
Kelly steeled herself, aware that she was pushing buttons. Perhaps with enough distraction, Merlin could act… "You'd waste your magic on a mother simply needing to stay close to her baby? Wow, you are a coward." She continued to walk, slowly, stealing glances at her daughter. God, she hoped she had called this situation well enough…"Alex, baby, you okay?" Her accent sounded a bit stronger; it usually did when she was on edge. Her pulse was racing, but she fought to remain outwardly calm. Her job was to rile the witch into reacting rashly. "Babe, I'm coming to you. Sit tight," She advised gently, still watching the witch at least peripherally. Any moment now, she thought, swallowing convulsively. This was very likely going to hurt, however the witch chose to respond.
"Momma-"Alex tried to twist out of Gwaine's hold, but the big knight kept her where she was. Gwaine had a look of dread plastered across his face, and he kept shifting his gaze between Morgana, Kelly, and the others.
"Kelly, don't-" Merlin and the knights all instinctively backed up when the small woman pulled a lighter from one pocket, and a handful of sealed glass vials, which were filled with a fine black powder, from the other. She held one of the homemade bombs out at arm's length, and quickly lit the very short fuse, meeting Morgana's furious glare with a raised eyebrow, as though she were saying, 'Go ahead, try and stop me.'
Hurling the first of the four fireworks she had produced, to land at the Witch's feet, Kelly half-stepped and spun away just in time, just out of range of the blast. They were small-scale; she'd meant only to create a distraction large enough to piss off the witch. Buying time for someone else was never easy...
Several pops, whistles, bangs, and several pretty colours later, Morgana backed away from this unexpected light show, a grimace of pain and surprise upon her face. She swore aloud when three more of these explosions followed one after the other, all exploding in a shower of sparks and glass fragments. Morgana raised a magical shield to avoid further damage.
Percival and Gwaine hurried to shield Alexandra with their bodies, stunned by this effective display of fire power. Neither of them could believe that Kelly was deliberately provoking the witch's anger. This was beyond suicidal!
The King's personal guards had moved from their trailing positions to hauling Uther backwards, away from the chaos. Four of them used the explosive diversion as a chance to fire crossbows toward the witch, but the arrows bounced harmlessly off of her shield.
Morgana raised an arm in Kelly's direction, seething from the woman's brazen act of aggression. The witch's body smarted in places where glass shards had imbedded themselves, and she felt blood trickling from her wounds. Her eyes shone with anger and then glowed a brighter gold hue, witness to the power flowing through her veins. In a flash of fury, she discharged a bolt of lightning from her fingertips. "Is that the best you can do?" she snarled, as the bolt struck the woman dead centre of her chest, causing her to fly back with the force of impact. Kelly hit the wall behind her with the sickening crack of broken bones, crumpling to the floor in a heap.
Arthur charged Morgana in a fit of rage, his sword raised to strike. The other knights swarmed in on signal, each trying to get in a damaging blow against the sorceress.
Alexandra heard her mother's cry of pain and found her way past the knights, crawling toward her mother's body. Percival had joined the fight, and Gwaine was scrambling after the tot, dodging debris and frantically calling her name. Alexandra wasn't listening. "Momma!" she cried, barely managing to dodge some of the flying weapons. Her eyes darted about in a panic, her breath coming in short, broken sobs.
Everywhere Alexandra looked, people were falling, some of them dead, some of them badly injured. She scrambled through the mess as best she could, terror casting the child's soft face into an unnatural pallor.
As several scrambled to retrieve their fallen weapons, an unearthly rumble filled the large chamber. The floor shook, and mouths were agape in open panic, and people fought to find solid footing amidst the crumbling foundation.
There was a burst of energy. Heads turned to see the usually clumsy, awkward manservant standing behind Arthur, and his eyes were glowing and bright with power. Arthur's knights knew enough to get out of the way, but the King's guards seemed rooted to the spot in terror.
The Regent turned in time to see what the others were gawking at.
Merlin silently shot lightning shards at his nemesis, and it took several long seconds before Morgana could defend herself from this surprising new change.
Morgana set her jaw stubbornly, bewilderment and anger fighting for dominance on her otherwise beautiful face. With each hit, she fell back a step, and she stared at the warlock in a state of disbelief. A warlock in Camelot? She thought, breathless with the realization. When? How? Despite the pain of each connecting strike, she steeled herself and sent fireballs flying at Merlin's head.
"Fuck!" Merlin cried out when the witch's first fireball slammed into his shoulder. The searing pain sent him reeling momentarily, and he willed the flames that threatened to engulf his shirt to die. Fury darkened his features as he fought to continue his assault.
Morgana's continuous attacks were beginning to take their toll on her own strength, as was her constant state of defence. For every weapon she redirected, every fireball she cast out, she felt her power begin to wane.
Eventually Morgana could not fight her fatigue and she fell back far enough and slammed into the far wall with a deafening shriek. It was at that moment that one soldier's well-placed arrow struck her in the chest, and she slumped to the floor and lay motionless, while smoke rose from her singed form.
The room was suddenly quiet, filled with the sounds of the wounded and dying. Bodies littered the floor, and blood made the floor a slick, ugly mess.
Sir Leon ran forward, kneeling at Morgana's side to try to find a heartbeat. The big knight looked up, shaking his head at the King. "She's dead, Sire." His voice broke, and he was visibly rattled. Struggling to swallow, the big knight turned on his haunches and surveyed the severely damaged room and its casualties. For such a short battle, he marveled at the level of destruction.
Arthur threw his sword to the stone floor, running straight to the unconscious time traveller. He dropped to his knees as terror swept through him, and his shaking hand found a weak, stuttering pulse at Kelly's neck. She was alive, but barely.
The Prince raised his head, his eyes pleading for…something. Anything to bring his love back from the ledge she had put herself out on. She had deliberately provoked Morgana's attack; he realized this while his world spun. She had provoked Morgana to force Merlin into action, to end this threat. "Merlin," he managed, his mouth barely working coherently. "Merlin!" He raised his head to find his loyal servant, his own blue gaze awash with panic and pain.
Uther stood with his blade pressed to Merlin's throat, his face a mask of fury. His other hand had wound into the boy's brown jacket to ensure that he had the upper hand. The King visibly clenched his teeth and hissed, "Sorcerer!"
"Father,NO!" Arthur's enraged shout caused the King to falter slightly. "No! He was trying to save us!" The Prince's eyes were rather stormy looking, and wide with residual terror. He cast a pleading glance at the others, and Percival raced over to carefully disarm the King at Arthur's request. "Merlin did not do this, Father! Morgana is to blame!" He prayed to whatever Gods there may be that his father would see some semblance of reason…even in his current state of mind.
"All this time you have been among us, watching my son—my flesh and blood!" Uther pressed the tip of his sword to Merlin's throat, drawing blood. "I should run you through—you are an abomination!" His hands shook from the strain, and he snarled in fury when Percival took his sword, forcing him to stand with Elyan. Both knights held the King back, and he acted like that of a rabid beast in their grip. "Let GO of me! I am your King!" he roared, physically lashing out at his captors. They struggled to subdue Uther.
Arthur shouted orders to a couple of the uninjured guards. He was Regent now, and they had learned to take his orders as though they were his father's own orders.
"My Lord," the younger guard implored, his voice wavering slightly as he set a hand on the King's shoulder. "Prince Arthur and the knights will deal with this, Sire. Come with us."
Uther did struggle as he was lead out of the Throne Room, calling over his shoulder a number of insults and slurs aimed toward the warlock.
Merlin's eyes lit to gold when he turned his head to look at the restrained ruler. "Swefe nu," he said quietly, and the King collapsed against his guards. They all but carried him out, giving the warlock terrified glances as they left. There would be much explaining to do later, that he knew.
Merlin stood and stumbled over to the fallen American. The look in his master's eyes pressed him to save her. Merlin sighed; healing spells weren't easy. He nodded and stretched his hand out. "Get Gaius," he said. "But I will try." It rested above her sternum and he spoke an incantation: "Gestathole. Thurhhwindle." His words came out sounding inhuman, and his eyes glowed briefly, returned to their normal blue when he had finished casting the spell over his friend.
"It's not working, Merlin! Try something else," Arthur barked, his eyes insisting that the warlock try something—anything—to save Kelly. Rarely was he ever out of control, but this brought him to his knees. He was a trembling mess of a man bent over the woman he loved.
Merlin rolled his shoulders and tried to focus his strength on finding the right spell combination, simultaneously trying to ignore the burn wound on his left shoulder. Once more he reached out toward his friend, his fingertips glowing as he tried to channel further power. "Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurh-hæle bræd!" He was only too aware of everyone's eyes on his kneeling form. They all wanted the same thing, especially the small child that raced across the room before anyone could stop her.
"Momma!" Alexandra sounded stricken. One glance revealed the tears streaming down her cheeks, the desperation when the child's father pulled her back. "No! Lemme go! I want Mommy!" Her voice had risen to a shriek, and she fought back, kicking and punching out viciously. Her wide blue eyes never left her mother's still form. She knew this wasn't what sleep looked like; this was really, really bad. "MOMMY!"