A Princess's Tale
Chapter Six
Methos and I had met occasionally from the time he had left my tutelage, and I never expected him to become one of the Four Horsemen. I was wrong. I'm not sure how much time passed, but he and Kronus, Silas, and Caspian terrorized numerous numbers of people, and one of them, Methos took a fancy to. He found a dark beauty under the training of a tribe's Wiseman, and took her as his body slave. I believe most of you should know whom I'm talking about. The beautiful Cassandra, a rather strong witch, if that's the right word. I'm not sure it is.
Then the Four Horsemen broke up, for some reason. I'm not quite sure why. And more time passed.
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Immortals were born. Vampires were Slayed. Lots of things happened, and Jonathan and I had an actually civil meeting. Together, we made the Neutral Territory, and sat down and started to talk. "A war would be pointless," I pointed out.
"It would," he allowed. "But you've amassed quite a force."
"So have you. Face it, brother, neither of us want to waste lives. This has always been between you and me."
"So what do you suggest we do?"
"You know the date of our battle. On that day, we meet here, and settle this once and for all."
"Sounds agreeable," he mused. "It won't be that simple, of course. I have more than a few fanatics."
"As do I. But we can try to keep them in line."
"Mmmm. By the way, I approve of your Rules for the Game. I never would have thought of them."
"Of course not. You're the Prince of Darkness. You play dirty."
"So do you."
I let a smile curve my lips. "I know. Do we need to discuss anything else?"
"I think not. Sister," he called to me as I was leaving, and I turned back. He studied me for a long moment, then went on, "You loved me. I still love you."
I refused to answer, and left.
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Let's see . . .oh, yes . . .
Ask anyone, and they'll tell you: I hate being betrayed. I cannot stand traitors, probably because I've been betrayed by most of the people closest to me. One of them is Micha. Let's just say he decided he deserved to win the Prize. He didn't. I had to kill my first husband. That kinda makes you a little jaded, y'know?
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Bugger, when was that? Well, anyway. A thousand or so years ago, I took a small lad under my wing, by the name of Merlin. I trained him, and together, we watched over the rise of King Uther Pendragon. Most know what happens next. Uther lusted after a lady, Merlin arranged it so he took on the appearance of the lady's husband, and a small child named Arthur was conceived. Merlin would not have done what he did if I hadn't expressly told him to. England needed that child to be born. So, after he was born, Merlin and I took him to Sir Ector. Merlin stayed to watch over the boy, while I went to take care of some business.
What was this business, you ask? I became a blacksmith, of sorts. Earlier, I'm not sure how earlier, I had forged a cute little bracelet with a long name I can never remember. Most people, however, simply know it as the Witchblade. Elizabeth Bronte was right. The Witchblade could be considered snapped off the tree of good and evil, but what most people don't realize is that good or evil is simply a facet of the stone. It's hard to explain, so I won't. Anyway, I holed up north and forged a very pretty blade, named Excalibur. And I gave it to a nymph in a certain lake, with some very explicit instructions. Legends now call her the Lady of the Lake. Beautiful girl.
When it was time, Merlin and I brought Arthur to the lake, he received the sword, and time went on.
Okay, let's get one thing straight here. Guinevere and Lancelot were never lovers. Never. You get the point? Lancelot was like Arthur's brother, and all the love Guinevere and Lancelot had for each other was purely platonic. They were like brother and sister. I swear, the things people come up with...
And you know what happens. Arthur gave Excalibur back to the Lady of the Lake after his son, Mordred, joined the Saxons. And no, Morgaine did not seduce Arthur. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but they didn't know what was happening at the time, I promise.
Anyway, as Arthur lay dying, Morgaine came in a boat with me, and we took him to Avalon, where he currently resides. I know what you're going to say next. Where is he, then? I can't quite answer that. I was going to check on him, when, all of a sudden, I arrived on the island, and all that was there was the monastery. As amazing as it seems, I have not been able to find them since. It's slightly worrying, but I have faith Merlin will bring them up when he's ready. I hope...
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Six hundred years ago, I met a lad named William Thatcher. I first saw him when he was posing as his master, Sir Ector, and I tried to keep myself from loving him. I failed. Miserably. He asked me to raise his son with him, and we lived happily for eighty years, until he died, a rich old man. Edward, his son, and I parted ways, and twenty, thirty, something like that, years later, I went on to Scotland, and met Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. Around a hundred years later, we met his clanbrother, Duncan. Connor and I had a Shared Quickening about a hundred fifty years later.
Three hundred years ago, I went insane for the third and final time.
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Okay. I spent my time on Earth this time, up in a remote place in Siberia. I didn't kill people for no reason this time, only if they ticked me off. There were still quite a few deaths, but it was no matter. I imported people so I never ran out. After a hundred years, a familiar, tall, lanky man came calling.
I was sprawled in my throne, eating my meal of human eyeballs, when Methos stormed in, pulled out a gauntlet, of all things, and threw it on the floor. "I challenge thee, Princess Athena," he growled. "Dost thou hast the courage to face me?"
This youngling dared challenge my courage? What the hell was he thinking? So I accepted.
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It was a very formal duel. We did all the rituals, bowing to each other before touching the tips of our blades together. I attacked first.
It was harsh. Before too long, he was sweating hard, and even I was getting a little short of breath. Both of us had light wounds, as usual. I'll give Methos one thing. When I trained him, I trained him well. But I didn't teach him everything. After about five tough minutes, I feinted to the left and whirled to the right, my sakri slicing into his side just beneath his heart.
Choking, he fell to his knees, but managed to hold up a hand just before I decapitated him. "M-may I say something?" He gasped.
Curious, I let him. His eyes rose to capture mine as they had so many times in the previous five thousand years. "I love you, my Princess," he whispered. "I've always loved you."
I stared at him, incredulous, then started to laugh. "What did you expect, young on---" I was suddenly cut off as something inside of me snapped, and I fell into convulsions, passing out.
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When I came to, Methos was beside my bed, looking fatigued, even though his hand was steady as he bathed my forehead with a cool cloth. When he saw I was awake, he gave me a small smile, but I couldn't return it, turning so I didn't have to face him. "Why are you still here?" I asked, surprised at how much hoarser my voice was than usual.
"I believe you all ready know the answer to that question," he said quietly, gently rolling me over so I was facing him once more. His long thumb stroked my cheekbone as the corners of his mouth lifted, then a frown marred his sculpted features.
"What is it?" I asked, swallowing.
Not answering, he lifted a mirror so I could see my reflection, and I gasped. My eyes had completely frozen over.
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That night, I was standing at a window, staring out at the Australian sea (Methos and Brenna had taken me there while I'd been unconscious), when Methos came up behind me, a blanket wrapped around his lean form. He watched me in silence for a few seconds, then gathered me in his arms, the comforter like a warm cocoon.
"Why did you do what you did, micari?" I asked after a while, using my old nickname for him, which meant my beautiful one in an old, old language. "If I taught you one thing, it's to survive. And to want to survive."
"You did," he allowed. "But you also taught me how to love."
I pulled out of his embrace. "I . . .can't love you," I told him haltingly. "I . . .can't feel."
His green-gold eyes were sad. "I know."
"How can you know?"
"When you were unconscious . . .Brenna showed me. Everything's gray inside of you. But I know that behind all that grayness, you love me as much as I love you."
I turned away, wrapping my arms around myself, and he drew me back against his chest. "Let's not worry about love right now, Princess. Let's just be together, eh?" He tilted my head back and kissed me. The temperature rapidly rose, and we barely managed to make it back to the bed.
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A few weeks later, I woke up to an empty bed, an unfamiliar weight around my neck. Looking at my reflection, I fingered the golden scarab nestled in the hollow of my throat, then saw the note on the table. "My beautiful Princess," it read in his elegant handwriting. "Mere words cannot describe how it tears my heart asunder to leave you. But take my gift as a token of the love I have for you, and as a promise that I WILL see you again. And perhaps then, you will be able to look into my eyes and say you love me the way I know you do. I am always yours. Methos."
Brenna came in then, sitting down next to my bed. We sat in silence, then she asked, "Business as usual?"
I took a deep breath, looked at the note, and blew out the breath. "Yes. Business as usual. Scram while I get dressed."
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And there you have it. A very, very, very condensed version of my life. I've skipped a few things, such as Casinia, the thirty years or so I was a pirate, my little stint with the British Navy, the time I killed Daren for the second time, thus fulfilling my line of prophecy, etcetera, but you don't really need to know about all that.
Now, this, ah, narration might be considered rather, er, light-hearted. Perhaps detached would be a better word. What do you expect? I can't feel. Even now, after all this time, I've barely opened up. It's a pain in the ass, because there's so much there I want to let out, but I can't find it. So I treat everything rather casually.
And you might ask, okay, this sounds good, but why the hell isn't there any records of this? Of me? The answer is quite simple. I very rarely let any record of me exist, except for the rare, rare legend. You could say I went up to that big computer in the sky, and deleted most of my entries.
But I'm done, Done, DONE! Leave me alone! Seriously, though, this is it. Do with it what you will.
End Author's Notes: Well. Tell me what you think.