THE QUEEN AND THE PRINCE


Her sister's skin was warm to the touch, tingling as the spell burst from her burning spirit, through the bracelet and into the flesh. She poured as much magic as she could into it, determined to make her sister well as if nothing had ever happened, even if Morgause wasn't of the same mind.

"Enough."

"Just a little more."

"I'm all right, dammit!" Her sister snapped, slapping her hand away and leaning back on the furs gathered for her comfort. She was wrapped in bandages like some old entombed corpse, but her eyes were very alive and annoyed under the dim candle light. "I was already healed, you shouldn't have done anything."

"You're exhausted, and no you weren't completely healed." Gruesome, was the word that came to mind. With her powers Morgana could feel the patches of newly grown flesh; the absence of power and even the lingering pain on her sister's spirit. That pain fanned a fire inside her that made her hands shake with old friends that here hatred and rage. Her voice, however, was flat and emotionless, seeming coming from another time altogether. "Who did this to you?"

Her sister sighed, closing her eyes over the soft bundled cloak she was using as a pillow. She needed a bath, Morgana noted, and new clothes, nothing a Queen couldn't do, except stopping it from happening in the first place.

"I fight my own battles, sister, and pay my own debts."

"Morgause…"

"Where are your friends?"

The use of the word friends stung a bit, mostly because she wasn't sure it fit now. She wasn't sure if it ever did, or if it ever would again. She had already seen Arthur a few times, but Gwen had been a shadow of remembrance, an enemy, an bound soul with empty eyes, a Queen of Iron and Stone, none of those faces quite matched the unsure girl whom Arthur helped climb off the unicorn.

"The Blood Guard is watching them."

"That is wise, anyone else might just kill them."

"That is what I thought."

"Not that that wouldn't be good for us, it could well and easy to just let the wolves have their prey."

Morgana didn't react, watching her sister, her half lid brown eyes flickering to the small flame beside her cot. It was late and the army was in dangerous territory. They struck Uther Pendragon and humiliated him just the other night. He would be angry for sure and as Queen she should be out there preparing. She should be coordinating for an early march in case Uther decided to give chase. She should be taking tallies of the dead, and putting the right people in charge.

There were a lot of things she should be doing.

"They brought you back." She mentioned instead, curious beyond reason, and Morgause laughed.

"Yes, they did, took me out of the cage and protect me like good little guard dogs, not that we would be alive if it wasn't for the Keeper." Her sister ranted. "Foolish isn't it?"

"Why would they do that?"

Morgause shook her head as if disliking that whole conversation and Morgana felt guilt for bringing it up in the first place. She still remembered how she hated talking about the Sarum once, and she could just have the courage to go and confront Arthur. In front of her, her sister opened her mouth, something stark in her eyes that almost looked like regret as she mumbled something unexpected. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry."

"I do." Morgause insisted. "I was going to kill him for you, I should've done it, but I was weak." Morgana stopped short, her body freezing over at the words. "I was going to offer his life to the Disir, as it was agreed, but now he is here and things are bound to get worst." Her sister pierced her with her eyes, creases of pain appearing on her face. "I'm sorry."

The words hit Morgana like a hidden enemy that had been lingering on the edge of her vision, waiting for a moment to strike. Oddly, there was no surprise from her part; she was too glad that her sister was alive to worry about intentions that never came to fruition. She had long ago learned to accept certain realities, and the reality now was that Arthur's death would indeed solve many of her problems. The gods' price of blood would be paid and her kingdom would flourish like Camelot once should, except she already had that chance. In that moment a part of her that craved the natural connection of people who loved one another was joyful that her sister knew her so well as to want to shelter her from the decision, another one was almost happy she had failed. Smiling, Morgana reached out, squeezing Morgause's hand affectionately.

"You should rest," she said.

"What are you going to do?"

Morgana paused halfway out of the tent, the question lingering in the air like a goose feather, too stubborn to race to the ground. "I don't know."


"We should kill him, cut his head off and send it to his father."

The words were meant for an argument and for intimidation, of that Arthur had no doubt. It wasn't as if he was expecting anything else from the murderers, outlaws and fugitives that made up Morgana's people, in fact a part of him was quite surprised to still be alive, not that Alvarr's way of looking at him made him feel optimistic.

"His value as prisoner shouldn't be disregarded." A tall blond woman spoke, her clothes sewn with blue oxes all over.

"Forgive me, my lady, but this is a matter of our people."

"It should be a matter of the kingdom."

"He came to us willingly." An old round faced woman pointed out from the end of the table, her gentle eyes so different from the memory of someone who once tried to kill his father. "It would be a crime to repay that good faith with violence."

"Violence?" Alvarr sneered. "He and his father have bred violence in this land, for twenty years violence was they ever offered to us."

"No one here is denying that fact."

"Aren't we?"

The woman's eyes were tired, and yet she was looking at him with, dare he say, kindness of all things. "We aren't, in fact, I believe it should be a clear statement that his presence here hasn't happened upon ignorance. Surely the young man understands the risks he accepted by walking into our camp. Should we disregard that courage?"

"Courage does not erase the context of his existence. If ending his life now would stop harm from coming to our people in such trying times, then it should be our duty to enact his death. I would be killing him right now if I could."

But he couldn't, and Arthur suspected that had something to do with the black clad guard that had been standing behind him this whole time, a scarlet tree on his chest and a hand never far from his sword.

"Courage or stupidity, personally, I don't really care." Amongst all the seriousness, the dark haired woman was leaning back with her boots prompted over the table, giving an all-out impression of boredom. "Kill him, let him go, none of that will make our enemies disappear."

Alvarr smiled. "Funny enough, I don't remember that attitude being present when you tried to kill our Queen."

Arthur had almost no time to show surprised as the woman shrugged. "We were just having fun, a joke between girls, you certainly wouldn't understand."

"Try me." But the woman feigned a yawn, stretching her arms over her head. "If you're so bored and you don't care, perhaps you should leave this meeting altogether, Mauren."

"I bet you would love that wouldn't you?"

"I would love for you to be doing your job. Shouldn't you be leading our scouts right now? It is your duty to watch out for Uther's retaliation but instead here you are, wasting words with me. Perhaps you're unfit now, perhaps I should take charge."

"Is trust those under my command you arsehole" Mauren barked now, "and if you come close to try and give orders to my men, I'll see to it that you eat grass by the root."

"I think that is enough," said the old woman.

"Don't think you're free from it, since my argument can be made about you as well, healer."

"I left not a single person in risk of death, Alvarr, but your worry is appreciated." The old man explained, making Alvar huff.

"The First Knight has a right to seat with us, Alvarr," spoke a man with a druid mark glaring from his neck, his balding head and grey beard gave him a rough look that wasn't at all diminished by his eyes. "That is not in discussion."

"No, what is in under discussion is the Pendragon in our midst, the spawn of Uther himself, sitting right here in front of us and no one drove a sword through his dark heart as of yet."

"A dark heart? I would love to see that" Mauren pointed out, and Arthur caught her grin, wild and hungry. He gulped.

"This discussion will bring us nowhere," said the old woman.

"Is this what you people do all day when I'm off fighting?"

Squirming on his seat, Arthur wondered if he should dare to open his mouth at all. If worse came to worse he hoped only that Gwen wouldn't be hurt for his sake. She had been taken away with Morgause as soon as they dismounted, while he had been dragged here by armed guards. Sitting on a chair in front of the long table, Arthur couldn't remember a time when he felt this exposed. No one had asked him questions so far, they seemed content on debating his destiny without his input and he was fine listening to them because he cared very little. What mattered really was the empty chair at the head of the table, the absence of the only person he would dare say anything to among the sorcerers. In front of him, Alvarr suddenly wrapped his hand around the handle of his sword, and although he made no mention to unsheathe it, Arthur felt the guard stiffening at his back.

"He has desecrated our lands, hunted us, and condemned us. We don't owe any Pendragon anything, but the repayment of his actions."

"On that I must agree with Alvarr," said the gray beard. "The only good Pendragon is a dead one."

"He came here in a unicorn." Alice pointed out.

"A trick."

"Oh come Alvarr, surely you're grasping at straws with that argument." Arthur frowned; apparently the unicorn was a good thing. "Unicorns would never be so friendly with someone with evil in their hearts."

Arthur saw that that fact vexed Alvarr to a point, and the table fell silent. In the pause his eyes darted to Excalibur, thrown carelessly atop of the table, his fingers itching to have it in his grasp as uselessly as it might be against an army. He was just debating to himself about the benefits of opening his mouth and play the part of a meek prisoner when he heard the flaps of the tent moving. At once a dozen eyes shot at the newcomer and then, the voice, her voice, sounded in his ears for the first time since that cave.

"What is happening here?"

There was a pause as Arthur watched her coming in. She was still dressed just as he saw her upon arrival, a bloodied - he didn't want to know whose blood it was - chainmail falling over her body, dark cloak upon her shoulders while on top of her dark hair was a silver crown made in the likeness of a dragon whose wings curled back around her head.

"Queen Morgana" Alvarr plastered a smile on his face one that Arthur was used to seeing on some members of his court and that he often disliked. "Your council was having a heated argument about the fate of our enemy."

"And you decided to do that without me?"

"It was to your benefit that we should come to a decision to best advise you."

"I'll be the judge of what comes next, not you. Now leave us."

"Your majesty…"

Morgana snapped in his direction before he could say anything, her eyes were burning with such glass cut intensity that even Arthur felt an urge to follow the sorcerers out of the tent. The old woman winked in his direction when she was about to step out, and then the guard, finally leaving the two of them alone.

Morgana seemed to ignore him at first. She walked around the table, gently placing the crown beside Excalibur. Her shoulders sunk a little as she discarded the cloak, as if instead of getting rid of some weight she had suddenly become aware of it in a way he found almost familiar. When she sat down she still didn't look at him.

"Where is Gwen?"

"Safe"

That single word eased a knot of worry that had formed in his heart, and yet he wondered if it was right to expect more, even if he wasn't sure what it was. Their last encounter was still very fresh in his mind, and he hadn't forgotten the scarring nightmares of plunging a sword through her gut. An old part of him, childishly perhaps, almost wondered if he should let her stab him just so they could be even, while the Prince inside him laughed in derision at his naivety. She didn't seem angry though. Her skin was pale, her eyes blemished by dark circles. She looked as he felt, tired and raw.

"You look like shit," she glared at him like he had splashed mud on a new dress, but still, no answer. Sighing, Arthur rubbed at his nose, considering his next words carefully. He supposed he should start as an envoy, calling out titles and being respectful, except Morgana was so much more than a enemy queen. "You know I never quite liked you when we first met." He looked on, no reaction. "You were such a girl, you know? I was sure you would be brushing your hair all day and complaining about the sun, and the dirty and your skin..."

"You weren all that enchanting either, more like a child with a running nose."

"I did start to think you were somewhat tolerable when we started playing with swords."

"When I beat you, you mean."

"That never happened." She scoffed at his knee jerk reaction, but he could only think of that grinning girl that shared the yard with him for some many nights. "It seemed all so simple back then, everything was easy. I knew I wanted to win at swords or steal pies from the kitchen, maybe steal one of your dolls and hide it." her eyes widened for a moment as if he had confirmed some very old suspicion. "What happened to us?" He asked, stubbornly.

"We grew up."

"Maybe we shouldn't have." In front of him, she shruged softly and he decided he had enough. "Queen Morgana of Essetir," he said, obviously taking her by surprise. "I've come here before you with the authority of the crown of Camelot to parlay with the Kingdom of Essetir."

Her green eyes, so pale, flashed momentarily like melted jewels. "Has Uther Pendragon given you such authority?"

A pause, "no"

"Then you have no authority, and already you have spilled lies in my direction."

Arthur clenched his fists over his lap, his boot digging into muck of the ground. The lack of lining told him this place was erected in a hurry, and a part of him resented the squelching noise he made. A voice that sounded an awful lot like Merlin was guffawing somewhere at his back, while another voice, like Gwen's, just told him to be careful.

"It's not a lie. I'm invoking my rights of inheritance and blood to bring the authority of the crown into my power whenever the king is unfit to rule."

In front of him, Morgana stilled a nail that had been scratching the table, stopping altogether. She knew the laws as well as he did, they had learned them together after all. "The rules of regency are absolute and of extreme need, however I don't see your king as unfit to rule since he currently leads an army in my lands."

"But he is." He needed some effort for the next words. "I and others know of this."

"Knowing is one thing, to make it happen is another."

"It will happen."

"How?"

There was a flicker of emotion now, a burning curiosity that finally made him know who he was talking to. For a brief instant he saw her curious eyes asking him question after question as if hunting for a breach to taunt his intelligence or behavior and just like that Arthur felt the knot untying fully, pulling the corner of his lips into a smirk.

"That, I won't reveal as of now, unless I know for certain that the crown of Essetir is of the same mind with my intentions of seeking peace between our kingdoms."

A gust of wind blew into the tent as he finished, flickering the candle lights in trembling ghost around the two of them. On the table, Excalibur tilted, seeming coming alive on its own, an eager spectator to bear witness to the Queen's rising form. Morgana pressed her palms on the table and looked down at him like he was out of his mind, then, seeming wanting to make sure, she asked: "Are you out of your mind?"

Arthur chuckled. "It's funny how people keep asking me that."

"I assure you it is not funny!" She punctuated each word with a punch in her voice, her chainmail rattling as she paced around. "It was a stupid question anyway, I should've known before I asked! You're always out of your mind, ever since we were children. You're mad, Arthur Pendragon, mad! Gods, spirits and dorocha, they all know it of you because how can you be so stupid otherwise?" Some loose tendrils of dark hair were coming loose by then, sticking to the sweat on her forehead. "Tell me! What exactly are you expecting!? To just ride into my camp like nothing and say this to me as if it would solve all of your problems? Did you know that the only reason you are even alive right now is because of that dammed unicorn? You think my scouts wouldn't have driven a sword into your guts otherwise? And all for what? To tell me this stupid little idea of yours as badly thought out as everything else you do? You're so stupid! You're a stupid brainless fool still!"

At the end of her rant, Arthur was left almost baffled, but not enough not to grapple what she said. "Oh, so you admit the unicorn thing was genius!"

She turned on him, narrowing her eyes. "That wasn't your idea."

"You don't know that."

"I know plenty!"

"Well, I'll let you know more! I know the keeper of unicorns."

"So what? I know him too!"

"See? He can be talked to if he was willing to talk to you."

"Stop it, it wasn't your idea!"

"What if it was?"

"It was not!"

"Prove it." He smirked, feeling utterly delighted.

"I don't have to prove anything to you," she retorted, plummeting on her chair and rubbing her face. Sniffling, Arthur watched her carefully, taking in not a traveling witch or the pristine queen of Camelot he saw sitting on his father's throne. She was not that unkempt menacing figure from his visions either, but a woman grown in mail, briefs and riding boots. Her hair was braided and simple and her shoulders heaved up and down making him wonder on the burdens of leading a months old kingdom against all of Albion. The banter had reinvigorated him, but perhaps the effect wasn't mutual.

"Sorry." He said guiltily, a word she brushed away with a gesture of her hand. "Can I have something to drink?"

She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath and suddenly the tankard lifted from the table, pouring sweet smelling mead on a cup that immediately floated to his hand. He took it uncertainly, fingers twitching as if the cup might hurt him. A quick glance at Morgana caught her fingers twitching over her face and suddenly Arthur was sure she did it just to watch his reaction. Determined to show her off, he grabbed the cup and drank, his raw throat thanking him.

"Where is Gwen?" He asked when he was done coughing up, hoping she would elaborate on her previous answer.

"She is fine just as I said." Her hand fell, revealing her eyes once more "She is probably giving Lancelot an earful for sneaking into your army and getting captured."

"Lancelot?" He blinked, looking to the entrance of the tent, half expecting the knight to appear, "Lancelot is here?"

"Yes, I just said so."

"What? But how? He was hurt! He should've been in bed!" Morgana looked at him as if he was a fool, and Arthur felt his curiosity been reined back to the matter at hand. He would see Lancelot later, if Morgana wasn't lying that is. God, he almost wished she was. He took another sip of mead. It was sweet and stronger than he was used to. He pointed that out to Morgana who smiled.

"The druids make it, they enjoy a stronger drink than most, mainly in their celebrations."

"And you brought this into your army."

"Soldiers need their treats."

"Right."

He looked down at the cup worried he might get drunk, although he doubted it would be necessary, already he felt the ride and lack of sleep catching up to him. If given a bed he would fall asleep right away. Hell, a soft piece of ground would do it.

"I meant it, you know? I want to make peace."

"I know, Arthur" The use of his name made him look up to a smile that was almost a grimace. "If there is something I can believe of you is that you would want something like that."

Morgana's fingers were now hovering over Excalibur, but never really touching the blade.

"You mean something foolish."

"Yes."

"I'm glad."

She shook her head, annoyed, "it would be much simpler to stab me."

"The thought crossed my mind actually, but it wouldn't solve anything would it? It's just more killing, father believed he could win by killing everyone, but it's been what? Twenty years of executions and ambushes and raids? It's tempting because it seems simple, but it never was." He confessed, looking down at the golden liquid twirling inside the cup, "besides, you told me you couldn't be killed by mortal weapons."

"This isn't a mortal weapon though." He waited for clarification, but none came. "Your kind of weapon didn't seem to matter back in the cave either."

He shook his head. "They did something to me, I don't know what happened. Some magic I don't understand, right? I don't know."

"What did they show you?"

He stared, wondering if she didn't already know. "You were marching on Camelot, killing everyone. It looked… no, it felt real. I was really there and you were torturing my men, Gwen, Merlin…" He looked away, wondering at his voice and how it was just eager to betray him. "My uncle was there as well, helping you."

"Is he dead?" Arthur blinked, giving her an annoyed look. "I always knew his cover wouldn't last, but I never thought it would happen like this. I take Uther killed him."

"I killed him" Her blurted out. "He called me abomination and attacked me. I had no choice."

He downed the rest of the mead. Cradling the empty cup, he tried to banish the images of that morning but it seemed impossible. His uncle's face, the amount of hatred there and the way his father dealt with the aftermath, Arthur feared those things would haunt him forever, and yet what would matter one more shovel of shit in the pile that his life had become?

"With that you realized your vision was real." She pointed out, something he didn't bother to deny. "Still, you came here wanting to negotiate?"

Arthur smiled, sadly. "I must be out of my mind."

Morgana just shook her head, her voice weak, tainted by uncertainty. "Why?"

He thought about her question for a long, breath taking instant. His eyes fell to his sword, which had been taken and slammed over the table by Alvarr and now stood between them, almost like those knights in the tales, keeping the blade between their temptations. The pommel was golden, the handle of wood also decorated with gold in patterns that were beautiful to watch and touch, it was the sword of the one true king of Camelot if anyone believed that crap.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie." He said, trying to sound nonchalant, but he couldn't help but smile at the heartbreaking nostalgia. "This is all Merlin's fault…" He said, watching her eyes falling with a flash of anger. "And Gwen's..." This time she seemed almost hurt by the name. "And yours." Finally, shock.

"Mine?"

"Weren't you the one who once asked me what kind of king the people wanted?" He pointed to the sword on the table. "You gave me a blade, and asked me if they would want a king who would risk his life for that of a lowly servant, or a king who does as his father tells him. Well, I thought it might be time I risk my life for all the lowly servants, the farmers, merchants, stuck up nobles and knights and sniveling little children..." A pause. " … Even stubborn sorcerers and unbearable queens."

For her part, Morgana showed him very little beyond a tiny scoff that might've been a laugh, he wasn't sure, but he was betting all of their chances on the truth that she still cared for people as much as she always had. He was taking a leap over a huge cliff and only Morgana could reach out and pull him up to the other side.

"How are you going to do that?"

Arthur leaned forward. "Do you agree with me?"

"Arthur…"

"If you don't agree with me that we need to have peace then it's useless to talk about it."

She took a while to answer him. "I rode east so fast when I felt my sister hurting. I was going to gather my forces and kill everyone, Arthur. I was going to do it, for her, for the pain she was suffering. Do you know what they did to her?"

"I do."

"Who did that to her?" He kept quiet. "Arthur?"

"I need an answer, Morgana."

She rose to her feet in rapt motion, her hand waving in the air and sending the table flipping over the ground, foods and platters slamming away into a mess. Arthur flinched at the action, but he refused to move, except for waiting patiently on his seat.

"Is there a problem, my queen?"

"Everything is fine!" Morgana shouted at the guard, engulfing them in another silence. She turned away, staring at the cotton fabric of the tent. Arthur squirmed. If he was ever to be king, he needed patience right? Father always said so, and maybe that was a counsel he could take. What would he do if it was Gwen in that cage? Or Merlin?

"I never wanted war." She finally said, but her eyes were far off, as if she was talking to someone else. "I wanted blood, I wanted to rest, I was tired and I wanted to rest. I wanted to do the right thing and I couldn't do it in Camelot so I started doing it here. Now I wanted to ride out and destroy every threat to this kingdom, but some threats don't come from swords alone and now you're here of all places making everything that much harder." Her gaze fell, her back still to him. "In truth, Arthur, I don't know what I want, but I know you shouldn't want peace with someone like me."

"I don't care that you're a bloody sorceress" He finally said it, the deep haunting sin of a Prince of Camelot. "You want what is best for your people." He said because that is how he saw Morgana, and that, despite everything, was still how he wanted to see her. "I don't understand what I saw in that cave, but I know you and the way we spoke to one another then... You changed yes, but that still holds truth. You didn't put a crown on your head for power alone." He repeated, remembering the argument they had long ago, in front of him, Morgana huffed. Seeing his opening, Arthur trudged along. "I'm prepared to offer terms of peace in the name of Camelot and the Five Kingdoms, the terms I offer are many, but the most essential points can resume to this. I swear to lift the death sentence due to the use of magic as long as it is not used in way to cause harm. I will forbid the raids against the druids on all the land under my authority, and sorcerers shall be allowed to travel through Camelot to reach the kingdom of Essetir. These terms would be valid on all of Camelot, if…"

Morgana raised a perfect eyebrow all the way to her forehead.

"If?"

"If you promise to keep your borders and to keep the law in case of offense caused or provoked by your people. If you promise to keep to the typical laws in regards to divisions of marches and incursions of armed forces, be aware that magic will be considered a weapon, and sorcerers will therefore be considered military forces."

"Only if they bear my sigil." She amended immediately. "You wouldn't consider vagabonds carrying swords to be war threats from any other kingdom."

"Fair enough, but you'll take them in banishment for any crimes that aren't already granted of a death sentence. I won't have sorcerers in my dungeons."

"Agreed."

He smiled and Morgana shook her head, seeming unsure if she should be bewildered or laugh about a silly joke. She lifted her hand then, and her eyes glowed, immediately commanding the furniture back to place. She took a seat at the end of the table, and Arthur brought his own chair closer, he stopped short however when Morgana reached out and pushed the sword to his hands. He frowned. "Are you sure?"

Instead of giving him a straight answer, her face broke in a way that he almost expected her to cry. "Aren't you scared?" she questioned, a question of many meanings.

"Terrifyed." He answered, knowing he was admitting to a lot. Surprisingly there was no shame in his heart as he tied to the sword around his waist. Somewhat, he believed she was feeling the same.

It was going to be a long night.


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