Dearest Reviewers,
I would like to humbly welcome you to the grand finale of Part One of Maliciousness & Misunderstanding. This chapter is the somewhat epic conclusion to the tale of Wren's greater misunderstanding and the maliciousness yet to be revealed. It's an extra long chapter, about 20 pages single-spaced to be exact. Far cry from the beginning of the novel, isn't it?
Part Two will continue in this same venue (I will not begin a 'new story' for the sequel) and it will be, for the greater part, Wren's story during Series 4. As I have not begun the story yet, I am open for suggestions or questions, so feel free to PM me. I love you all quite dearly. My inspiration to keep writing (both fan fiction and my own original work) would be quite gray without you. Thank-you so much, for all your feedback.
Happy reading!
Pippin
Fair warning: Some of the content might be disturbing. I'd say PG-13. Or T. Or TV-14. Or A for Awesome. Whatevs.
...
-The Nightmare-
...
It was with an overwhelmed heart that I made my plans for meeting my mother.
I asked Terrin if he would wake me earlier than the other maids, and he was obligated to ask why. After all, it was a work day, and we had a schedule to abide to.
"I will be back in time for work," I said, "My mother is visiting Camelot and has asked if I will join her for breakfast."
"That is well, then," Terrin said, pausing for a moment in his efforts to replace the small kegs of wine into their shelves. "May I ask you a question?"
"Yes."
"I was unaware that you were in contact with your mother. When Evoric and Ella hoped you'd be given a position here, they almost had us believe that they considered themselves to be your guardians. May I ask why that is?" He was asking for the purpose of being an honest worker, but I could tell he was curious, too.
"I don't fully know the answer myself," I said. "Evoric and Ella have tried to take care of me, ever since I stopped working for the Lady Deanna. My guardians—my aunt and uncle—have not been alive these past several years. And, I was unaware that my parents were alive until… yesterday."
"Good lord," Terrin said, astounded. "What happened?"
"I… met my mother on her way to the market. It didn't take long for me to realize who she was."
"Have you an explanation for their absence?"
"No, but I hope to get one during breakfast."
"By all means, then," Terrin shook himself out of his wide-eyed gape. "I will wake you up all the earlier."
"I will tell you what I learn," I promised.
"No!" Terrin said, a little too quickly. He corrected himself. "I mean, it is your business. I ought not to snoop. But I hope—whatever you learn—it will be of some benefit to you."
"I hope so too," I said with a sigh. "Thank-you, Terrin."
"Till the morning, then."
He woke me up at a perfect time, and said there was tea for me in the kitchen. I was touched at his kindness. I made a note to, one day, ask him about his family. It was impolite to question him about it, but I was curious. I drank my tea, and he prepared boiling water for the porridge in silence. But he did give me a brief smile when I stood to leave and thanked him again for going out of his way. He replied that he hoped I had the best of luck. It was a far cry from the stress and judgment he seemed to possess a few nights ago.
…
Nothing smells of morning quite like the wood smoke rising from the torches being extinguished. The gray dawn breached the darkness and the working class awakened, preparing their shops and their victuals for their customers and their masters. It is a surprising twilight before breakfast, full of quiet acceptance for a day just like any other.
But I knew today was different. I woke up from a dreamless sleep, knowing upon this day I was to speak to my mother—my real mother—again, and hopefully question her further about my father. Even before I slept, thoughts of a terrible trick or con ran across my mind. But there was no mistaking she was my mother. She had my hands and I had her eyes.
…
The tavern felt airy. Evoric opened all the windows and let the cool breezes come in and cleanse the smoke out. Morning light flittered in and made the seating cheerier, brushing away the seediness of a tavern at nightfall.
This time, I was early. I sat down first, and waved to Evoric at the counter. Ella was checking the receipts from the night before, kissing her husband, and walking out the front door. She stopped and smiled at me. "Extra day off?" she asked.
"No, I'll be in at the usual time," I assured her. "Getting some breakfast here instead. I'll see you in the kitchen."
Ella nodded and left. Evoric came around the counter and put down two small plates of dried ham and steaming egg. "Been seeing you mor'n often lately," he said, brushing a small crumb from the table. "Meetin' the knight?"
"No, I'm meeting my new acquaintance," I said, unable to squeeze out the phrase my mother.
"Oh, excellent, excellent," Evoric nodded enthusiastically. "Hope she comes back again for more visits. The inn can always use more customers."
I handed him some money. "I'll pay for this one."
"On the house!"
"Evoric, you've got to stop giving me free favors. I don't work here anymore."
"If we were family, you'd get the discount anyhow."
I chuckled. "Let me pay this once. I have a guest, after all."
Evoric reluctantly took my coins. "That means a small drink for you and your knight for free next time."
"You're impossible."
"What would you do without us?"
"Probably die. Thank-you, Evoric."
"Don' mention it, Wren," Evoric pocketed the money, winked, and left.
"He's friendly," came Fervania's voice as she stepped off the last stair and walked towards the table. She looked troubled, but she walked with resolution, somehow. "Seems parental figures haven't been missing entirely from your life."
"I can't tell if this is some sort of jab in your humor," I said, losing the wish to smile at her and say good morning. "Or if you are trying to bait me for some sort of conversation topic."
"Neither, just an observation," she said down fluidly. "You… bought breakfast already?"
"Might as well have," I said, "This is the only thing available this early in the morning."
"Well, thank-you," Fervania said uncertainly. She folded a napkin and tasted the ham. "Hm, dry," she muttered. She put down her fork and beamed at me. "So tell me, you work this morning? What kind of work is it?"
"I'm just a kitchen maid," I said, not entirely eager to discuss my position.
Fervania looked over my shoulder, towards the front of the large room. I followed her gaze, turning slightly in my chair, and looking toward another table. Evoric was serving tea to two other inn guests, laughing heartily with them. I do not know why she stared at him with such interest. "What are you looking at?" I asked. There was a small flash of light behind me, and I whirled quickly around.
The candle in the center of our table seemed to glow the brighter, and the flame was higher than before. Fervania was blinking rapidly, the glow of the flame reflected in her eyes.
"Just as I thought," she said flippantly.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"This candle is cheaply made," she said, with some judgment. "I spent a whole summer making and selling candles once. It's almost all flame and no scent at all." She was still blinking, as if there was something in her eyes.
"Have you a question about Evoric?" I asked.
"No, no, I shan't bother him," she said. "I just wonder if he makes his own candles."
"I think not," I answered, frankly, disturbed by her whimsy. "What about your work?" I asked, eager to change subjects. "I see you sell… something?"
"Trinkets mostly," Fervania waved a hand. "I've made earrings from seashells, cutlery made from animal bone, little cosmetics from charcoal and rose petals, perfume from violet and lavender extracts… I dabble in strange little things."
"And what does my father think of it?" I asked, hoping to move the conversation back to him, and when we could possibly meet together.
Fervania smiled at me. "He thinks not of it. He cares deeply for the soil in the ground."
"Then he is a farmer?" I said, wondering as much.
She raised her eyebrows. "I can tell where this is headed. I shall say no more until we are all together as a family."
I cringed inwardly at the word family. Could we be family? There was something shrouded about her, something I didn't trust. Perhaps it was because of abandonment that my vision was clouded.
Fervania seemed to be fighting off a smile.
"Come on," I urged, "What makes you so… excited? Can you not share that with me, at least?"
"I'm afraid not," Fervania said. "I just look forward to the future, that is all. Can we not agree that it is wide open? That the possibilities are endless? Aren't you excited to meet your father?"
"Yes, I am. Shall we discuss when that is to be?"
"What about tonight?" Fervania suggested.
"So soon?" I exclaimed. "That would be… good. Very good. Yes, tonight."
Fervania and I finished off the last of our eggs and stood up.
"Walk with me," she said, with a motherly smile.
We walked out of the tavern and into the morning light. Our step was in perfect unison, and even as I subconsciously tried to break the pattern of our walk, they remained in sync.
"What is my father's name?" I asked.
"Edmond," Fervania said, with something like a blush.
"And you love him very much?"
"I cannot live without him," she replied.
"But you could live without me," I said, before I could stop myself.
"We had no choice," Fervania snapped. "Is this one of your humorous jabs?" she repeated my words from earlier. "Are you trying to bait me? I told you, your father and I will tell you everything."
…
By now, we reached the gates out of the Lower Towns, and into the woods.
"I'm sorry," I replied, meaning it. "I'm afraid I have a habit of lashing out when I feel I've been dealt an unfair blow in my life." Poor Merlin.
"I'm sure that makes working in the palace really difficult for you," Fervania snapped back sarcastically. I couldn't recall if I had actually told her whether I worked in the palace or not. If she had seen me leave with Gwaine through the window, or even asked around the market, it isn't unlikely she'd find out by other means.
I tried to quell my suspicion of motive for everything that flew from her mouth.
I escorted Fervania through the gates, and we walked a few paces down the forest road. The cloudy skies did little to light the forest, but the green haven needed none to make it beautiful. The breeze smelled fresh, which seemed to clear my head. Breakfast wasn't sitting well with me… I knew I was nervous while I spoke to my mother, but the feeling was bordering on sickly. Perhaps I was beginning to suffer from stomach cramps…
"Feeling all right?" Fervania asked, looking at me curiously.
"I'll be fine," I said, shaking my head. "Just feeling a little… warm."
"It's a cold morning, are you sure?"
"Just feeling a little sick, I'll be all right," I said, moving to the side of the road, and sitting on a small rock there. "So—um—" I said, with a deep breath. I moved a hand to my forehead and wiped away a trickle of sweat. "Where would you like to meet tonight? We cannot venture too far from Camelot, I have work tomorrow."
"I already told you," Fervania said, "I live a long way from here. We'll have to leave now if we are to reach him by nightfall."
"Now—now?" I asked dizzily. "I told you, I'm working. I can't leave right now."
"I had a feeling you'd say that," she said resignedly. She knelt down beside me, giving me a kindly smile. "That is why I've decided to not give you the choice."
A bird chirped. The leaves ruffled. I felt hit, in the side of the head.
"Excuse me?" I managed.
"If you want to meet your father, you should be committed to it," she said firmly. "The palace can wait. Work can wait. I thought this was important to you."
"It is, it is," I said, words slurring together. "But—but—did you do something to me?"
"Nothing bad, you ninny," Fervania grabbed me by the elbow and hoisted me, with surprising strength, to my feet. "I just… made a little addition to your breakfast, is all."
The candle flame wasn't reflecting in her eyes. Her eyes had just… glowed.
"What?" I said, trying to pull my arm from her grasp. "Like what?"
"Do you play dumb on purpose?" Fervania looked annoyed.
"Your eyes were glowing… there was nothing wrong with that candle. You were just trying to distract me."
"And of course, it worked," she seemed pleased. "Always do enchantments near fire, Wren—if perchance anyone sees your eyes light up, it can be a trick of the vision."
"You enchanted my breakfast?" I whispered in horror.
"Oh, you guessed, congratulations," Fervania rolled her eyes.
"With what?"
"Just something to make you more agreeable—don't worry, you won't die."
"I don't understand," I mumbled, completely woozy. The woods were tilting slightly, from left to right. The gates were out of sight, she was pulling me down the road. "Can't we wait?"
"I'm tired of waiting!" she literally screamed, turning on me, and shaking my shoulders harshly. "I'm tired. I need you now. But you wanted to be all responsible and glamorous in your little palace life, and so I did what was necessary."
"So you put a spell on my food…?" I tried to make sense of this. "And you… you have magic…"
"So do you, daughter," Fervania spit, jerking me beside her again and dragging me along behind her. "Keep up, won't you?"
"I can't go with you," I said, pulling back.
"A few more moments and you'll be completely incapable of doing anything yourself," Fervania said unsympathetically. With an iron grip, she pulled me off the road and walked for a few paces. Then she put her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill whistle.
My head felt too heavy. I slipped to the ground, kneeling, having a rest. I felt exhausted and confused. Colors were beginning to smear together like a painting, melting in dragon's fire.
There was an answering whinny. Something dark galloped up from the trees, coming straight to Fervania. She held out at arm, brushed the neck of the horse, and whispered a loving word to it.
"Isn't he sweet?" she said down to me, the voice sounding of cold winds and whispers of the dead that roamed my dreams.
She had changed. It was as if I was hearing her for the first time.
"What… happened…" I asked hazily.
"I suppose all enchantments have their limitations," Fervania shrugged.
It was a rich, velvety voice. Manipulative, feminine, and dark. The voice that haunted my nightmares. The husk of her humble, troubled, farmer's wife tone had fallen away like chaff, leaving the dripping malice of Her voice.
The one who plagued my nightmares and asked me of death, of kingdoms, of what I could smell and see. She had been infiltrating my life for weeks. It was Her, and there was no mistaking it.
No more. She had no control over me, enchantment or no.
"Our transportation to your father," she said, patting the horse again. "Up we go," she added, pulling me up again. As soon as we were face to face, I pulled back a fist, and slammed it into the left side of her face as hard as I could. In her surprise she was knocked sideways, and I took the opportunity to run back for Camelot. I ran crookedly, and slowly, towards the road… away from her insanity…
"Wren…?" she called after me, in a delighted, teasing sort of voice, as if in a game of hide and seek. As if I hadn't just punched her as hard as I could.
I did not make it far. Something seemed to wrap around my ankles, jerk me backwards, and promptly throw me back onto the ground. Damn magic…
The wind was knocked out of me. I gasped, frozen, back hurting and head pounding.
"I'm going to make this very simple, Wren," Fervania said, her bloodied lip and golden eyes appearing in the view of branches and sky. "It's not really an abduction if you just come with me willingly. Why make this so difficult? First, it's work work work, and then a violent assault? Honestly! I'm your mother, can't we be civil?"
"Why?" I managed to choke out. "What do you mean by any of this?"
"I cannot let you waste my time," Fervania said. "It is a full moon tonight."
"Let me go," I begged, "Please. Let me go. I will come with you another time."
"There is no other time," Fervania said. "You have the listening skills of a dead beetle. It is a full moon tonight. And you do want to see your father, so I am doing you a favor." With that, she smiled. "Any moment now," she added, and black specks swarmed in, and I was losing consciousness.
It was the first time, that in falling asleep, the nightmare felt it was ending instead of beginning.
I awoke on the back of a horse. It was evening. Dusk was falling in lavender heaps of mist across distant mountains. I was long out of familiar territory. I had no idea where I was. We didn't even seem to be traveling on a road, but through a field. I could hear a creek, and we were going towards a line of trees. Entering another forest, one much darker, with thicker trees that intertwined and formed a hedge before us.
The horse was large enough to share two to the saddle. I was in front of Fervania, slumped over the saddle horn, face getting constantly bumped by the horse's neck and scratchy mane hair. My wrists were tied—bloody tied—together, and I tried to sit up.
"There, there, my darling," Fervania's true voice flickered like a lightening fork. "Almost there now. You've been asleep for awhile. Now, don't you feel better? After a nice long rest?"
I didn't reply.
"Of course you do," she said without my answer. "A long dreamless rest. I've long used your subconscious as a source of communication—this can only happen to magical folk, you know—but it seems your own visions have been clouding what you see. They've seemed dark, like nightmares, haven't they? Dreams are so fickle. Especially if one dreams of a future while your mother is trying to have a chat. It's all so mixed up, isn't it?"
"If I was, indeed, having visions," I said slowly, my voice hoarse and cracked. "It was your voice that made them nightmares. You and you alone have been terrorizing me. Do not pretend otherwise."
"So harsh!" laughed Fervania. "If you had just accepted my gift, it would not have been a problem."
"Then you did offer me prophecy?"
"Only to make you accept what was already inside of you," she said. "It's not really mine to give. You have magic whether you admit it or not. Though seeing how you live in Camelot, you probably wouldn't want to admit it anyway."
"Maybe some are born with magic," I said, "But someone can choose to keep it. I choose to have nothing to do with it."
"Which is, of course, stupid and irresponsible and not an OPTION," Fervania growled. She directed the horse towards the trees, and ducked slightly, to avoid black branches as we passed into it. "Tonight, you shall see how much you need magic—and how much magic needs you."
"Magic doesn't need anyone," I coughed.
"I need you, my dear little daughter," Fervania said, in a loving tone that made me feel sick again. "And I am the greatest sorceress that Magic has seen since Nimueh."
…
The horse pulled to a sudden stop. "How long have we been riding?" I asked blearily.
"All day," Fervania said, slipping off the horse daintily. Her voice sent chills running down my spine. She pulled me off the horse and led me between two thick trees that seemed to form an archway.
The forest was bleak and dark. Gray mist slithered between the leaves, shrouding the horse within seconds. I looked behind me, and could only see four or five trees before a thick fog bank. Fervania was leading me, none too gently, by my tied wrists down into a clearing. The clearing floor was covered with moss, and the closed heads of daisies and violets asleep for the night. There was a grave mound, grown over with the shimmering green, with a single stone marker.
"What is the meaning of this?" I asked.
"Read it," Fervania said harshly.
I looked down at the stone. It read; Edmond, My Beloved.
I didn't know what else I should have been expecting. Did I expect him to be waiting with open arms? Apologizing for Fervania's behavior? Did I hope he would untie my hands, hold me in his arms, and say, "How I've missed you, my darling"? Would he have turned to Fervania and say in horror, "What have you done to our daughter?" before explaining to me that she had gone mad twenty years ago, and he fled Camelot with her, to keep me safe from her magical insanity?
Whatever I had hoped… it was gone now, erased, falling away like a veil. Edmond—the man who was supposed to be my father—was dead, and she had me believe that I would meet him.
"No," I said, overcome. I jerked my wrists out of Fervania's grasp and went to the grave, kneeling beside it. She followed close behind, knelt beside me, and wrapped an arm around me. She whispered, "Shhh. It's all right. We're bringing him back."
I swallowed, turning towards her. "What—the—bloody—hell?"
Fervania smiled at me. "Magic is a miracle," she said, happily. "You'll see. I was given a gift—the sorceress, Nimueh, met with me the night we fled Camelot. She gave me a spell, and I've kept it, waiting for the right time to use it. I couldn't wait for just any full moon—I had to wait for a Howler's Moon, appearing once in twenty years. The moon looks normal, does it not? A shadow falls across it tonight, however. It is shaped like a wolf's head. Look at it—isn't it beautiful?"
I did not look. I realized—I had dreamed this. The grave in the clearing. Her hands, covered in rings that I hadn't noticed before. The only thing missing was…
She was drawing a dagger out of her cloak.
"No!" I shouted, struggling to get away. She seized my arms and before I could blink, drew the knife smartly against my hands. Both palms opened and began to bleed.
"Ow, ow," I exclaimed in shock, throwing myself backwards, trying to crawl away. "Why—why would you…"
"Oh, shut up, you whiny little brat," Fervania set the bloodied knife across her own hand, and gently pricked her finger. I squeezed my fists together, trying to block out the stinging sensation. She looked over at me, huddled at the edge of the clearing. "Oh, you're wondering why I only pricked my own finger?" she smiled. "That's for striking me earlier. Daughters shouldn't hit their mothers." Then she set the knife aside. "That's for later."
Then she looked up to the shimmer of the moonbeams in the fog, and began to recite something, like a poem, her voice wicked and harsh in the darkness.
"The greatest innocent, a child who wishes to give life.
The hardest of workers, a farmer's wife…."
She drew two vials from her pockets. She opened them up, emptied the scarlet contents over the grave.
"You need not man, for it to return him,
Death has bidden two, it is enough sin."
It was most certainly blood.
"Replace them home, when their breathing has ceased.
Take one droplet of blood, and they'll leave you in peace…"
She was the one who killed the little boy in Camelot, and Teller's wife. Sir Leon had nearly caught her in the cabin—and didn't he say it wasn't the Lady Morgana? He was right!
"Now chant your words- Filikithrun, Winiseestrun.
Bloodroot and Wood and Power not of One."
"You have to stop this," I whispered. "Fer—Mother. Please, whatever you're doing—don't do it…"She only smiled at me and continued.
"Within minutes of his last, and the spell said soon,
Do unto thus beneath a full Howler's Moon."
She plunged the blade of the dagger into the bloodied spot on the dirt.
"Blood of the mother, blood of the offspring,
With the two become three, he will be a King."
She stood up, and brushed her hands on her dress. "It is done," she said gleefully. "And there is no need to try and dig him out. He'll appear out of the air, Nimueh said—any moment now, Wren. You'll meet your father."
There was something I couldn't shake. "You killed those innocent people in Camelot," I said, "Just to bring back someone who is dead?"
"I told you I couldn't live without him," she replied happily, looking around her into the dark woods. "And he shall be King. You will not be a servant any more. Don't you see? Together, we can be sensational. Camelot drove us out—for our magic—and we will return, the three of us. Can you imagine the power of three? Your father will sit upon the throne, and we will be happy. Together."
"I cannot believe what I'm hearing," I held my hands to my chest, trying to stop them from bleeding. "You're truly mad. You're a murderess and an animal. What about the cart maker? He wasn't a part of the spell—was he just killed for fun?"
"Cart maker?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I've never killed a cart maker! I am no murderess! Who commits murder, Wren? Senseless killers without justification, that is who. And what am I? I am a soldier for magic. Death happens in a war. With success must come sacrifice, and I am solely responsible for the useful death of only two insignificant people. You cannot kill for no reason, and that is what sets us apart. It must be for something sensational. You'll see—these people of Camelot did not die in vain! You will see your father rise from the grave!"
"No matter how you try to explain yourself," I hissed, "It will not matter. You are not my family. Never."
"Don't be absurd, we'll be family when he comes back. Uther is weak enough—the three of us can take Camelot. You shall tell us their moves before they make him with your gift of prophecy—I shall rid them of their soldiers and knights—and your father—oh, he is a great warlock, Wren! He can merely blink, and the entire royal court will burst into green flame that cannot be put out. He is incredible. Wait and see."
"You fled Camelot during the Great Purge," I said, "And left me behind. Because both of you had magic."
"And you did not," she said carelessly. "Or at least that's what we thought. But we reached each other in your dreams, a month ago now, wasn't it?—I knew at once it was you. I knew my daughter had finally awakened her magic. And with the Howler's Moon, I knew it was time—all the right events aligned for our happiness, Wren! The fates—the old Religion—everything wants us to all be together again. Even the stars shall bow before us tonight."
"Nothing will bow before us," I spit, "I want none of this. I don't want anything to do with you."
"You'll change your mind when you see your father," Fervania said. "He's powerful, and wonderful…"
"Is he?" I asked spitefully. "Then where is he? Why hasn't the spell worked?"
"Give it time," Fervania said distractedly.
"I am not familiar with magic," I said angrily, "But I don't think your precious miracle spell from Nimueh has worked. You've failed, and I am glad you failed."
"You can't mean that," she replied, shocked.
"I do," I said, struggling to stand up without the use of my hands. "I don't think Nimueh was as great as you thought she was. And we? We will not be sensational. No one is going to take over Camelot, least of all you and your—your pathetic magic."
Fervania turned pale, and began to rake her fingers through the top of the grave, pulling up bits of moss and earth. "Come on, come on," she began to cry hysterically. "Edmond, come on. Come back. Show Wren. Your daughter awaits you. I'm here. Edmond… Edmond…" she was growing more and more distraught. "Why isn't anything happening?" she began to scream. "EDMOND!"
"How did that spell go?" I asked, "What did you say right after The Power of One?"
"Within minutes of his last, and the spell said soon," she recited, "Do unto thus beneath a full Howler's Moon. Look up, Wren! A Howler's Moon! The timing is correct."
"Within minutes of his last!?" I exclaimed, walking boldly towards her. "Minutes of his last breath, Fervania! It isn't just a spell, it's a riddle, and one that I think you've missed entirely."
Her breathing was growing shallow.
"When did he die?" I demanded. "WHEN. DID. HE. DIE?"
Fervania began to sob uncontrollably. "The—the—night we fled Camelot! He was—was—shot from the guard's tower, by an arrow. It pierced him in the back, right through his heart. I—I managed to get him onto the horse—and brought him here—I buried him. That night, while I grieved here… I was visited by Nimueh. She gave me the spell."
"You should have done it twenty years ago if you wanted success," I said firmly. "This spell is dead. And Edmond will stay dead, too."
"No, no no, no!" Fervania shouted, jumping to her feet. "It has to work! EDMOND! COME BACK!"
"Stop screaming, you'll attract wild animals," I said callously, the adrenaline rush beginning to kick in. If I was to escape, I had to act quickly. I could steal the horse. But first, I'd need to get a hold of the dagger and cut the rope around my wrists…
"Without Edmond," screamed Fervania, "We cannot hope to take Camelot for our own. It's time for magic to return to the land, Wren—defeating Camelot is only the first step of bringing back the Old Religion. It's the key to our whole life. Our, our happiness, our future, rests upon tonight. You must be wrong. Edmond should come back from death."
"He won't, you read the spell wrong," I cried, "And I would rather be dead and buried beside him then help you win Camelot or spend any of my future with you."
"Then I am truly alone," Fervania said viciously. "You will abandon me? Your own mother?"
"Abandonment is the only thing you've ever taught me," I said. I jumped forward, and jerked the dagger out of the ground. My bloodied hand hurt to put pressure against the cold metal of its' pommel, but I clung to it nevertheless.
I held it out in front of me, clumsy but defensively.
"Wren," Fervania said, her thick voice betraying her utter despair. Her eyes were deep red with tears. "Give—me—the—knife."
"No," I said, backing to the tree-arch through which we entered. "I want you to stay where you are. If you come any closer, I will use this."
Fervania, even through her sobs, gave me an amused glance. "You can barely hold it!" She lunged at me, and I tried to use the knife to my advantage. But I was no good, and even Gwaine's kindly little lessons on the training green seemed like a life that I had only dreamed about. A dream where I could not remember any details that could aid me now.
Fervania clutched my hands, jerked them from side to side, knocking the knife out of my hands and to the ground. She took it up before I could even blink, shoved me against a tree, her hand at my throat.
Her pressure against my windpipe caused my mind to blink out, like a candle being blown at by an ill breeze. I struggled against her, but my pushes were weak. My arms had strength enough for rolling cauldrons, but with my breath shortened, I had nothing…
"Did you think you were going to get away so easily?" Fervania smiled at my feeble attempts to push her off. "Ungrateful child. If I cannot have your love, Camelot shall not have yours. I will not have my families' loyalty divided. None shall have you."
I was choking, my eyes wide, trying to get her to move.
"Yes," she laughed wildly, "I will take Camelot myself if you will not help me. But not before I bury you beside your father." She held the knife to my collarbone, the blade dangerously close to my throat. I was beginning to feel faint—I just needed to breathe—
Suddenly, Fervania's eyes went wide. She let out a hard gasp, and dropped the knife.
She stumbled backwards, releasing her hold on my throat. My eyes watered as I bent over at the waist, coughing horribly, taking in deep draughts of blessed air. I looked up, in shock, as Fervania stepped away, looking down at her own abdomen.
It was turning dark with blood. Her knees buckled, and she fell hard to the ground, pitched forward, and remained still. A small, bejeweled dagger was sticking out of her lower back. She shuddered suddenly, and let out a long breath. She did not rise again.
"Oh, oh my god," I gasped. "Fervan—oh god…"
Behind her, another woman was smiling. A woman that I recognized, from the palace, long ago, but she was older, and darker, dressed in black…
"M-Morgana?" I said hoarsely.
She stood beside the still form of Fervania, looking down at her with an annoyed disgust. She poked her with the toe of her boot, and with a tired sigh, plucked her knife out and wiped the blade on the grass. She looked at me, expressionless.
"Are—are—you going to kill me, too?" I managed.
Morgana smiled kindly, a genuine smile, underneath thick make up from charcoal dust and the dye of green forest leaves. Her hair, piled atop her head, gave her a regal—if terrifying—appearance. She approached me carefully, placed the knife between my hands, and cut the rope off and let it fall to the ground. "There we are," she said, the lilt of her voice gentle and sincere. "That must be more comfortable."
"Why did you… kill her?" I asked, coughing again.
Morgana gave me a sympathetic look. "Oh—your mother was wrong on several accounts. It is not time for magic to return to the land—not yet. I will decide when that is."
I held my bloodied, bruised hands to my neck, tucking my chin over them, trying to make myself smaller if such a thing were possible. "Why did you save me from her?" I asked.
"I have no quarrel with you," Morgana said easily, brushing a bit of dirt from my forehead. "I have merely eliminated my competition. Fervania was a pathetic excuse for a witch and she had little power. Camelot is not hers to be taken—not hers by right. She had ridiculous plans to take over, did she not? But it is not her responsibility—it is mine, and mine alone. When it is time for Camelot to fall, I shall decide its' fall. When the walls come crumbling down, I will stand over them—no one else will have the honor. It is my destiny, and no love-sick little witch will have my revenge." She smiled at me again. "Does that make sense to you, little one?"
"Yes," I whispered, voicelessly. "I… will… remember… that you had mercy upon me… I will not forget it."
"Aw," Morgana said with a look that one gives a small child or a baby animal. "That is sweet of you. I will—require—you to grant me a favor for my services, will you do that?"
"What is it?" I hesitated.
"Just deliver a message to the King for me," she said, her smile losing the innocent expression. Her smirk seemed more dangerous that Fervania's smiles. "Just tell Uther that I am alive and I am watching him. That I am waiting for the right moment, and I am the sole harbringer of Camelot's destruction. I hope he remembers his daughter—the one he should have loved, the rightful heir. Tell him—that when I come for my throne, he will see me sit upon it before I slit his throat."
I nodded fervently, sickened with the realization that she wasn't going to kill me too. It was both horrifying and incredible that I would be so lucky to be saved by someone far worse than Fervania, the woman responsible for the event that killed my aunt and uncle.
"I will—I will tell him," I said.
"Good girl," Morgana gripped my shoulder, and nudged me in the direction of the arched trees. "The horse lies just beyond there. I suggest you get on it and give Uther my message as quickly as you can. And don't bother trying to tell the little knights where this took place. As soon as you leave these woods, I will destroy this place. Understood?"
"Y-yes," I said, walking shakily away. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins and my head pounded. It all felt too sharp to be a nightmare—and yet, what else could it be?
I stepped around Fervania's body, and couldn't even look at her closely. She had come so briefly into my life, only to leave it again quickly. I didn't want anything to do with her evil. It was gone now, and I had only to forget it. I would go back to my life, only with the closure of knowing what happened to my parents. And yet, I wished I did not know. I would rather wonder, than be trying to escape from the lurking forest where their bodies lay. If only I hadn't agreed to meet her. Was I so stupid? Or just horribly naïve?
I looked over my shoulder, and Morgana stood over my father's grave.
"Go on," she said, in a strong voice. "Everyone loses their parents' eventually. Be glad that such witches of lesser magic are no longer among us. I will remember you when I return to my throne. I will show you that magic can be used for great power and for a good life. You'll see."
"Was it you?" I asked carefully, pausing at the arch. "That killed the cart maker?"
"A mere tease for Uther," she said carelessly, kicking a patch of dirt. "When others began to die, I knew I wasn't alone. Fervania was terribly clumsy with her magic, and it was only a matter of time before I found her."
"You found us tonight," I added. "How?"
"It's not hard to find an elementary witch screaming under a Howler's Moon," Morgana said. "And you're not the only one who dreamed of tonight before it would happen."
I nodded shortly, then turned and ran between the trees. I nearly tripped over a large root, and wished it was Gwaine like the last time. For a moment, I panicked, in the darkness, with only a white moon guiding my steps. But the horse was very close, and whinnied when he heard my feet trample the undergrowth.
I had no one to help me into the saddle. Trying to remember Merlin's instructions, I patted its' dark brown neck, talking in soothing nonsense. I gripped the saddle horn with one hand, place my foot in the stirrup, and launched myself upwards. I made it halfway up, clung desperately for a moment, and then threw my other leg over.
I was in the saddle, panting with the effort. I needed water, my throat hurt so badly from Fervania trying to choke me. But we had been traveling all day, surely Fervania needed… there was a small canteen tied to the saddlebags. I grabbed at it clumsily, pulling the cork out, and drank greedily. Eventually I came to my senses and realized I had, at least, a six-hour journey ahead and must save some.
"Go on," I said to the horse, wincing. "Uh—go! Heeya. Hup hup." I whistled, and the horse stood placidly. "Ugh," I said, slumping back in the saddle, and giving him a light kick with my heels. The horse jerked his head up, ears alert, and began a jolting trot forward.
"Oh, goodness," I exclaimed, holding on tightly. The horse broke into a smoother gait, and I had to cling on for dear life when branches came close to swiping me clean off his saddle.
Within minutes, we were out of the woods. I directed the horse towards the field we passed through, approximately to the point where I woke up. Finding my way home was not going to be easy—I had never traveled before.
"Calm down, Wren," I told myself. "Think. Think."
I looked around. The moonlight lit a regular field. From behind me in the woods came a strange cracking sound—Morgana was destroying the clearing with some sort of magic, I was sure of it. Ahead of me lay a cluster of tall oak trees, and beyond that, another field with shorter, greener grass. The mountain range lay behind me, I seemed to be at their foothills.
Suddenly, I realized they were the White Mountains. I knew them—or, knew of them. They were visible beyond the Darkling woods, the forest that surrounded the citadel of Camelot. So if I headed away from them, I would find the woods. Hopefully, and then, a road, to bring me home.
…
Three hours past, and the moonlight waned. Perhaps it would have been better to stop and try to sleep, and to continue on in the daylight.
But I was cowardly. I did not want to get off the horse. I was afraid to descend from the saddle and try and sleep against a tree, wondering what kind of animals or people lurked the uncivilized lands of Camelot at night. I periodically thought of Fervania's face and gasped, as if suffering from a waking nightmare.
I couldn't stop shivering in the nightly chill. Everything ached—my wrists, my back, my throat, my hands that had finally clotted and scabbed over.
It had to be close to midnight, and I had not come across a single, solitary farm or cottage in which to take refuge. Dark woods closed around me again. Logic kept telling me to stop and sleep. But I never stopped, I just wanted to go home.
And besides, I had an urgent message to deliver.
…
I knew it was past midnight, but not much else. Exhaustion slipped and took a hold of me. I felt numbed by my experience. I had seen people die before… in dragon attacks, Morgana's attempted take over… people die. It happens.
But this was my mother, found and lost, in only two days. And she turned out to be so—startlingly—unfeeling, disturbed, and insane. And my father had been dead since the moment they abandoned me.
And I had magic. She said it had awakened inside of me. Was I stuck with it forever? Couldn't I choose to not have it, like one might choose to cut their hair or wear a ring?
For the first time since I could remember, I began to cry. Grief seemed to topple from nowhere and wrap its' hands around my heart. I felt trapped between the need to concentrate on where I was traveling and the overwhelming sobs that poured out of me.
I buried my face in the mane of the horse, let him have his head, and let myself relax in my own tears. I couldn't remember a time when I really cried. I was upset when the Lady Deanna let me go, I couldn't breathe when I found Gwaine in the woods. I felt tearful when I went a week without sleep—yet this was nothing like it.
It lasted for, perhaps, an hour. Or maybe it was five minutes.
I knew nothing for a time. And when I checked, I was out of water.
…
The moon had gone down. I knew it must be somewhere close to three past midnight. I was in woods again, and I prayed it was the Darkling Woods that surrounded Camelot. I listened for the sounds of a river, the river that ran close to Camelot, or anything that resembled farms.
Then I heard something, and pulled my horse to a halt. Stomach clenched in fear, I listened like a hawk for the sound. I could not tell what it was, but it sounded human.
Then, it was there again. A voice, mumbling and carried by a breeze. It was far away. Instantly, I feared bandits or slave traders. Did the prince not say it was a bad season for them? That it wasn't safe?
Hesitantly, I urged the horse forward again. Whatever, or whomever it was, I'd have to find out, in case it was someone that could help me find my way. I had kept my back to the mountains, but surely it wasn't enough.
The voices were clearer. They were coming from, perhaps, fifty feet ahead. Somewhere in the darkness—pitch black without the moon.
Then I spotted firelight, and the thankful glow around it. A bandits camp, perhaps? Friendly travelers? Gypsies?
I slipped off the horse, and found my hands trembling. I tried to hold fast to the reins and walk slowly towards the light.
"We're missing courage," said one of the voices.
"Huh?" said the other indignantly. "What do you mean? I'm brave!"
"Don't you remember?" said the first. "When we trailed Arthur through the Perilous lands?"
They had to be from Camelot—whoever it was—
"That creepy little person called me Strength, you Magic, and Arthur, Courage. So we're missing courage on this trip. What do you think he meant by those, anyway?"
"Nicknames from a lonely hermit," the first offered uncomfortably, in the inflection of his voice, I recognized it. It was Merlin.
"This is the second time we've taken a little trip when we weren't supposed to. Bit of a tradition now, isn't it?" laughed the other, and I knew the laugh. I broke into a smile.
I opened my mouth to call out to them. I tried to yell Gwaine's name, but nothing came out. My voice was gone, and the only thing to happen was a hoarse sort of breathing.
But they heard us walking through the fallen leaves.
Their shadows stood up in the firelight, intimidating and poised for action.
Gwaine drew his sword. "Show yourself," Gwaine said loudly.
"Who's there?" Merlin added for good measure.
I was close enough now, stepping around the trees. I was visible from the glow of the flames, and I knew I must have looked a sight. I was covered in dirt and bruises. My dress and hands were brown and red with dry blood.
I had nothing that I could say, so I gave them a childish smile.
"Wren!" Merlin exclaimed, grinning hugely. Gwaine tossed his sword aside and rushed at me, startling the horse. The horse jerked his reigns out of my hand and trotted away, not going far, but far enough to look over his shoulder and give us a scolding look.
Gwaine's hands were either side of my face, down my arms, pulling at my dress, not knowing where to look first. "Where—where—you," he was stumbling. "Are you hurt? What happened? Where've you been? What's this from? What'd you do?"
I stopped his questions with a bloody hand. I shook my head and forced out, "Can't, really, talk."
"Okay, okay, so you can't talk," Gwaine said, blinking. "All right. Good. Why can't you talk?"
I gave him a look.
"Right, sorry," Gwaine shook his head. "You—you idiot. You bloody idiot. Come here." He pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.
"I'll get the horse!" Merlin offered immediately, jogging away.
Gwaine nearly lifted me off the ground with one arm, the other hand finding its' way into my messy hair. I pulled my face away from his shoulder, looking into his eyes.
"You were looking for me?" I managed to ask.
He answered by tilting his head and pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, having never imagined something so lovely or strong in my entire life. Gwaine smiled into our kiss, pulled back, and grinned down at me as if he'd played some sort of trick. Not enough, I thought, standing on his boots, and kissing his chin. He bent down so that I could reach, and we kissed again. It was as if romance had left us, and it was pure expression of how much I had missed him, wanted him, desperately needed him in the hours I was alone, and my overwhelming relief at having found him.
"Ahem," Merlin said, finally, tying the horse's reigns to a branch, beside his and Gwaine's horses.
We broke apart. Gwaine was laughing, but I just felt thoughtless.
"Thank-you, Merlin," I whispered, though I was trying to shout. I felt hollow inside, wondering if I was going to wake up, lying beside a grave with not one, but two parents standing over me.
"She's awake," my mother would say.
"Hello, my princess," my father would say. "Thank-you for bringing me back to life. I have you to thank for that."
"We're going to be happy," mother would say.
But I wouldn't have been, not with my mother being the one who killed innocent people. This was happiness, being found by my two dearest friends, and being kissed by the one I'm falling for.
"Why are you crying?" Gwaine tried to brush the tears away.
I shook my head, wiping them away myself. I buried my face into Gwaine's chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. He was very warm, and I was freezing. He wasn't in his armor, and I listened for his heart through his thin linen shirt. It was comforting.
"Come on," Gwaine neatly lifted me off the ground, slipped his other arm under my knees, and carried me towards the fire. He set me beside a fallen log, unrolled his sleeping blanket, and put it around me.
"Thank-you," I croaked out.
"Mhm," He replied, handing me an open leather canteen. I drank speedily.
"Slow down," he added.
"Nope," I replied. I was dehydrated and I could drink as much as I damn well pleased. But Gwaine reached over and took the canteen out of my hands not long after.
"Hungry?" he asked.
I nodded. "Haven't eaten since this morning."
"It is morning," Gwaine said gruffly. "Yesterday morning, perhaps? When you didn't show up for work?"
"Mhm," I agreed. He handed me a tin bowl, and in it, some kind of stewish mash. I accepted the wooden spoon and began to eat hungrily. I hadn't even noticed how empty or dizzy I had felt—part of being shocked by the whole thing, I suppose.
While I ate, Gwaine added two more logs to the fire. "When you did not show up for work," he said, "Ella returned to the tavern to find you. Evoric told her that you left with your mother. She assumed you just went on a walk with her, and lost track of time."
He stoked the fire with a longer stick. It was bright, yellow, and crackling as merrily as a fireplace in the castle.
"But when you never showed up—at all—Merlin noticed you were gone in the morning, and asked Terrin where you were. Then Ella expressed concerns. Then they came to me."
I blinked, wondering what Terrin had thought…
"They asked me if I had seen you. They said it wasn't like you to miss work, and Evoric had seen you leaving and wondered if she had come to see me. I told them you just met your mother for breakfast and should be back by now."
"Everyone returned back to work," Merlin interjected. "But at the end of the day and you still hadn't returned, we were starting to worry… it's a good thing Evoric had seen you leaving, otherwise, we wouldn't have known where to start looking."
"Terrin came to me, and was pretty upset," Gwaine said slowly. "He thought I had something to do with your disappearance. I reminded him that you were last seen with your mother, not me, and if you were going on a long trip, there is no way in hell you'd do it without asking for the time off. Because you're one of those responsible types… I don't even know how we get along," he added, jokingly, plopping down beside me with a huff.
"By the time dinner was over, night was falling, and we decided to come look for you," Merlin said. "Gwaine was confident that nothing had befallen you…"
"On the contrary," Gwaine said quickly. "I was certain that your creepy-arse mother had something to do with your disappearance. But I was hopeful that you were okay—just unable to get back when you wanted. But—but—look at you!" he added. "You're a sorry sight… and…" he broke off, frustrated.
"Can you tell us what happened to you?" Merlin said, coming up to the fire in his own blanket. He drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, prepared to listen.
I finished chewing the last bite, and swallowed. With a grin, Gwaine handed the canteen back to me. I drank two large gulps before answering.
"It's a… long story," I said, somewhat carefully. How much was I supposed to say about magic? "Can I…" I hesitated. "Can I trust you both?"
"What do you think?" Gwaine exclaimed.
"Of course!" assured Merlin.
In halting tones, I tried to explain what happened. From the moment I punched Fervania and tried to escape in the woods, only to fall asleep under an enchantment and wake up miles from home. I could not remember all of her wicked spell, but I tried to explain which parts of the rhyme correlated to the killings of the little boy and Teller's wife, and the return of the bodies to where they were. When I got to the part about the blood of the mother and the offspring, Gwaine muttered, "Oh, you beautiful, idiotic girl," and fetched a few bandage rolls from Merlin's pack. As I told the rest of the story, he wrapped my hands up in way too much strips of the fabric and tied them off clumsily.
I took a deep breath and tried not to leave out details about my dreams, and how Fervania believed that the three of us could take Camelot for our own.
"So you have magic," Merlin said, with a respectful tone.
"Don't say that," I said quickly. "Fervania said I did—but I—no. It's my own choice. Magic is evil, and I shan't have any part in it. I have bad dreams, is all."
"Bad dreams that turn out to be prophetic," Gwaine said. "Sounds like magic."
"Maybe it is, but I don't want to be magical," I said. "You understand, don't you? You won't turn me in?"
"No," Gwaine said resolutely. "Like you said, it's your choice. I've never been too keen on following the law, anyhow."
"Your secret is safe with us," said Merlin, and I was surprised to see that his eyes were filling up with tears. "Don't worry."
"So then what happened?" Gwaine urged. "I think it's safe to assume it didn't work."
"No," I said, explaining Fervania's grief. I took a deep breath. "When it was clear that I was choosing my old life in Camelot over her—she went truly mad. She tried to kill me—and—Morgana showed up."
I nearly laughed at the jaw-dropping expressions on Gwaine and Merlin's faces.
"Morgana—Lady Morgana?" Gwaine asked.
Merlin looked pained. "What was she doing there?"
"The way she put it?" I said. "Eliminating her competition. She—uh—killed Fervania, while she had me cornered. She cut the ropes off and told me I was free to go, and asked if I would bring Uther a threat from her. And then she watched me go."
They were silent, taking in the unexpected conclusion.
"Would… would you be able to tell us where this took place?" Gwaine asked, using a more professional tone.
"No, and Morgana destroyed the clearing," I said with a shrug. I accepted his canteen again and drank. "I couldn't find it again, the latter half of my journey was spent in complete and utter darkness when the moon went down."
"Why did Morgana spare you?" Merlin asked in a curious whisper. There was something about his face that seemed stricken.
"She said she had no quarrel with me," I said. "And she wanted her message delivered to Uther—that she was the daughter he should have loved, that sort of thing."
Merlin nodded slowly. "That… sounds more like the old her."
"The old her?" I asked.
"We used to be very good friends," Merlin said, grimacing, and trying to turn it into a smile. "Maybe… maybe there is still a heart in there. Somewhere."
"But your mother is dead," Gwaine clarified. "Morgana killed her because she was 'competition'? Sounds heartless to me."
"Heartless, perhaps, but she saved my life," I chided. "Fervania would have killed me. Morgana said she was a talentless witch, and would only get in her way. That she is the sole authority on magic and when Camelot will come to its' doom."
"I'm sorry about your mother," Gwaine seemed less interested in my story now. He set aside the canteen and sat closer, putting his hand over my bandaged ones.
I did not want him to be sorry about my mother. She wasn't my mother. Ella is the closest to a mother I'll ever have, and I would- had to be- content with that.
"Thank-you for looking for me," I said, taking his hand. I held out my other hand to Merlin, and he grinned, and took it. "You two are… the best. Truly. I don't deserve you."
Gwaine looked at Merlin sideways. "Well, maybe not him. He's far too noble and good. But I'm pretty terrible, so, anyone can deserve me, really."
I laughed, and it turned into a very wheezy cough. "I just don't know how to thank-you—either of you—enough for coming. I didn't know if I was going to find my way back. I am completely lost."
"What are friends for, after all?" Merlin stood up, and began to fix up his sleeping role. He glanced at me over the fire. "It is—really good, to see you, you know. You're alive and—despite your disappearance being for much worse reasons than we though—it's just relieving, is all."
"Ha!" Gwaine exclaimed, also standing up and moving a few saddlebag items around. "I know I was worried and everything—but if I had known what I should be worried about? I would have been tracking you before breakfast was over."
"I can't imagine," I yawned. "I can't—believe—I was gone all day. I can't believe it's tomorrow. It feels like a bad dream."
Gwaine lay out a sleeping roll. "Then it was a bad dream," he said stubbornly. "It's gone now and you're safe with us." He sat on the thin pallet and glanced at me. "We're going to have to share that blanket, you know."
I fought a smile. "Isn't that a little promiscuous?"
"I'm tired, you're tired, let's go to sleep," groaned Gwaine, yawning heavily.
I stood up and threw my blanket over him unceremoniously. He fought with it like it was an animal for a moment, having got a mouthful of the cashmere fuzz. He finally calmed down, spit, and opened up the side of the blanket for me to cuddle up beside him. He threw the blanket over me, and with it, his rather heavy arm.
"Goodnight," I whispered.
"Goodnight," Merlin hissed.
Gwaine kissed the back of my neck, and snuggled in behind me, his arm around my waist. "We should go camping more often," I mumbled sleepily.
"Don't be silly," he whispered back. "We should save this for special occasions. You know, other rescue missions. It's Merlin's turn to go missing. You've gone missing, I've gone missing… he should go missing too…"
"Hey!" came Merlin's voice. "Don't plot against me till morning, all right?"
I giggled and relaxed, and Gwaine was soon snoring lightly.
When I closed my eyes, I saw Fervania's body drop, falling onto her face, with Morgana's pretty, jeweled dagger sticking out. I must have fallen asleep, for I suddenly felt her hand on my throat, and her whisper of We can be sensational, echoing from my dreams, and finally, the fruition of them in my reality. I jerked lightly and woke up, breathing hard.
Gwaine woke up, briefly. "Hm?" he said.
I sighed and turned around, curling up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me again, kissing my forehead. Even as his breathing turned into his light snore, and I knew he couldn't hear me, I whispered, "It was just a dream."
…
This is the end of Part One. Will most likely update Part Two at the end of this week or the beginning of the next. Please feel free to PM me anything you'd like to see and—of course—please review. Thank-you for giving my OC a chance. I really kind of like her, and I love you guys. So thank-you. Stick around for more. =)