A Possible Lostbelt 6 - Birth of a New Planet

by Venomous Blade

What would you do to change your destiny, if the world was falling around you. 7 worlds made, meant to be a world better than the old, yet one struggles just to survive and exist. As the thread of destiny changes, an unknown shall enter the battlefield. But does he have the right to tell his story. Even if it is not what it could have been, does his story have the right to exist?

48. The Merge Approaches

Well, we're just about reaching the halfway point you could say. This is the 1st part of a 3 parter. This chapter will deal with who Vortimer is, give some glimpses into where the story's going. The flashback in the beginning will also show us the 1st half of the battle against Aurora, the 2nd half will be in the next chapter, which will also have the merge with Avalon. Originally, I wanted that to be in this one, but the merge is so important that I couldn't keep it all in one chapter, so its in the 2nd part. The 3rd part will have Chaldea arrive.

Thank you all for waiting, and without further ado, here is chapter 46. Enjoy :)

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Well, there didn't seem anyone around to bother her. It was quiet now, as she roamed through the European forest, save for the birds chirping and the buzzing of insects. Morgan paid little attention as she took a bite out of her apple. The trees were growing well this time of year, the land was beautiful to look at. After she finished, she plucked the seeds out of the core and buried each individual seed in an open clearing of the forest, 6 in total. Closing her eyes, she chanted to each one, her magic ensuring that they would grow into strong trees that bore ripe fruit for those in need.

Just as she was wiping the dirt from her hands, the air around her twisted and thickened, emitting an odor she'd never smelled before. As she felt it close in and tighten around her, Morgan's body marks and her eyes glowed an emerald hue as she spread out her arms, releasing a green wave of energy that broke through the winds with ease. The witch stood tall and stared at her foes from behind her black veil. Surrounding her were not only faeries, but creatures she recognized from Avalea, dwarves, elves, gnomes, all of them endowed with either a vicious glare or a cruel smirk.

Though they charged at her, Morgan didn't bat an eye, simply flicking her finger as roots and trunks erupted from the ground, at each spot where she had planted a seed. Imbued with magic, they grew large and wide, their roots caging and entrapping the magical creatures in their rough embrace. Dwarves growled and hacked at the giants roots while the elves and gnomes either tried to wiggle free or undue the enchantment placed on the plants, but it was to no avail. That only left the faeries to oppose her, and Morgan was prepared for them as well. She waved her arms and chanted as magical, ethereal blades manifested around her, each pointed at the now attacking faeries.

While they dodged and countered the incoming blades, the fae were shocked by what came next. With a flick of a finger, each ethereal blade broke apart into several smaller blades that homed in on their targets. As they struck each faerie, Morgan waved her arms before spreading them out, causing each group of blades to form a netlike chain with one another, pinning every faerie to the ground. Her attackers now bound and chained, Morgan calmly walked forward and approached one of the fae, casually taking a hat off a helpless gnome before putting it on her own head for sport. She then sat beside a male faerie and sighed.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise. To what do I owe the King and Queen this little greeting after my time in Avalea? I had assumed that I would be left alone, or was I mistaken?" She then placed the gnome hat on the faerie, "Well, are you going to speak, or not?"

The faerie glared at her, "I do not serve the cowards who would let you go." He whispered quietly.

Her eyes narrowed, "Then who?" Suddenly, the wind bristled as the warped sound of buzzing and childish laughter filled her ears. Turning her head, Morgan's eyes widened as she was surrounded by dozens of insect-like creatures with elf-like heads and faces, with warped antennae on their heads, fangs, and deadly stingers ready to pierce her flesh. She grits her teeth, "Begone, vicious pests!" As they all neared her, Morgan erected a magical barrier to protect herself before extending it outward with a stretch of her arms, forcing the elves/insects back. She then twisted her hands as a few dozen orbs of blue light surrounded her body, each radiating at a fervent intensity. Her eyes glowing sky blue, Morgan sent them forward, each one following their targets like a missile before making contact and exploding the hybrid monsters in an explosion of blue fire. Morgan closed her eyes as the dying sounds of buzzing and childish screaming filled her ears. She hadn't wanted a fight.

Before she knew what to do next, several massive orbs of light surrounded her from above and the sounds, spinning and rotating around her as they formed a massive cage and caused Morgan to suffer a splitting headache. As they impacted her, Morgan felt no pain… only exhaustion as her body fell and…

…

…

As her eyes slowly opened, she found herself in the middle of a foggy lake, spread out and bound by roots and vines. Surrounding her from above her several dazzling lights so bright she was nearly blinded. As those lights came closer and faded slightly, Morgan noticed that each one had a female form that was identical to the other. Dazzling butterfly wings glimmered as each feminine physique was draped in a silky white dress with a gold crown of flowers adorning each head. There were 13 in total, a dozen of them hovering above in a circle as their radiance formed an alluring rainbow ring, and in the center, hovering right above her, was a faerie that gave her an alluring smile.

"Greetings, Morgan Pendragon of Britain." The faerie said with a soft voice, "We have been waiting for you for quite some time. We have much to discuss." She then giggled pleasantly, "Ah, but where are our manners? We are Aurora, Fair Queen of the Fae, and chosen to retake all that was stolen."

…

…

"Here I come!" Gareth cried out as she charged forward at her mentor, carrying a lance that was bigger than herself. Lancelot merely sighed and sidestepped at the last moment. As Gareth lost her footing while trying to stop and turn, her teacher caught her and helped her stand up properly, fixing her hold on her lance while he was at it. "Hmph, no fair!" She pouted, "How am I gonna reach you like this?"

Lancelot chuckled, "Well, I keep telling you to use a smaller weapon. That's too big for you to use."

Gareth glared at him, "No way! I can totally use bigger weapons, you'll see!" She had finally managed to officially become his squire, after the few years she'd spent in the kitchens of the castle had finished. While she mainly carried around his weaponry for now, she also got to receive combat training in her free time. Lancelot had wanted to show her how to wield a knife 1st, but Gareth kept trying to use any large sword or lance she could find, usually Arondight and Excalibur Galatine. He'd finally gotten her to agree to use a medium sized lance, but even that was too big for her.

Lancelot sighed, "Alright, but let me fix your footing 1st." As he gave her advice, her 3 brothers watched from the left side of the bailey. They chuckled at the sight, sending friendly ribbing towards one another as they mocked their previous quirks when fighting.

They looked to their left as they heard footsteps approaching and saw that it was Sir Kay. He smiled at them, "At ease. Nothing major, just wanted to see how things were going." Kay turned his head to watch and chuckled, "Reminds me of when 'Arthur' was so little. Is your sister comfortable under Sir Lancelot?"

Agravaine chuckled, "She already likes him more than any of us, and we're her brothers." He shook his head, "I worry about how far that'll go."

"Relax Agravaine, she's just a little girl spending time with her 'father.'" Gawain noted, "She never had that with ours, after all." What went unsaid hung in the air for a minute, and they were quiet.

Kay sighed, "No word on Lady Morgan." He told them, "Messengers and bounty hunters have come to the king, but there is little knowledge as to where she may be. Some ponder that she may have left Britain entirely, but no one can be sure. Not that it's stopped Kings Dura, Urien, and Angusel have stopped trying to find her." And kill her, though that was also unsaid.

"They won't find her." Gaheris said as they looked at him, "If she had actually wanted to be found, they'd have found her." He then spun his spear before walking to his sister, "Think I'll help our sister for a bit."

…

…

Morgan stared up at Aurora. "Greeting, Lady Aurora of the Wind Clan." She said politely, ignoring how she was bound, "King Oberon and Queen Titania have told me much about you. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

One of her replicants smirked, "Ah, I would hope so, especially since you must have been painted a rather unfair image of myself by those cowards who would call themselves our rulers. But then again, hiding behind fraudulent claims is something you do happen to share with them."

Morgan sighed, "I have been informed of my accidental insult to the fae. Please understand that I have never meant any disrespect. The name wasn't something I gave to myself, it was given to me by a priest, and it was intended as an insult. Magic is seen as the way of the devil to certain Christians, and by labelling me as 'Le Fay,' they were deeming me as inhuman, a harpy of hell. My true name is Morgan Pendragon, eldest child of the former King Uther Pendragon and Queen Igraine of Camelot, and exiled Queen of Lothian and Orkney." She looked to the golden-haired Aurora. "If you would release me, I will leave without issue, I have no wish to fight you."

Another of the replicants looked at her with a bit of sadness, "Unfortunately, that is not the only thing you and your family is guilty of, Morgan Pendragon." Other replicants shook their heads as she continued, "The fact is, 'King Arthur' and several of her knights," she went on, revealing that she too knew Artoria's secret, "they claim glory and fame using weapons stolen from the fae, weapons they had neither the right nor permission to wield. And that cannot be so easily excused."

Morgan groaned as the dozen other Auroras nodded in agreement, "From what King Oberon told me, Merlin won those weapons in a fair bet, who he chose to pass them to was entirely up to him."

At that moment, the Auroras erupted with laughter that sounded both haughty and rather unnerving, as though they were merging into a singular laugh of something that felt more distorted and inhuman. As they calmed down, one of them spoke, "Yes, because obviously Oberon, in all his great wisdom, had the right to gamble away several sacred artifacts made by our ancestors." She scoffed, "And as if that were not the worst insult by itself, then that whoring Titania let herself get seduced by that half-succubus. She fell for his charms as if she was some mere human girl. The humiliation…" Several Auroras glared at Morgan.

The witch rolled her eyes, "Merlin is a lecher, I highly doubt there is a woman in the entire world whom he wouldn't sleep with. I should know, I was one of them, and I doubt either I or Titania was going to be the last." Sure, it annoyed her, but it was just how Merlin was. There was no point in getting angry over it… accept if he ever turned his eyes to Artoria and Gareth. If they grew up and caught his eye, that would be the end of it. She didn't care how handsome he was with his white hair and sweet voice; he was not toughing her sister and/or daughter…

Shaking her head to bring her thoughts back to focus on the situation at hand, she continued, "And even so, it isn't as though we knew you were angry at us wielding your sacred weapons. No fae has ever once come to Camelot to express their disapproval." Morgan tried, and failed, at shrugging, "Personally, I am surprised that Oberon and Titania did not think of doing so when this began."

Another Aurora laughed at such a thought, "Unfortunately, those that I once served were too cowardly to do even that." She snickered at the thought, "They fear Merlin and his Pendragon protégé. It is not only an embarrassment that they lost our sacred weapons, but now they are too fearful to take them bag. Better to have those ants die out in a few years than simply take it themselves."

The Aurora floating beside the other replicant agreed, "To see our race reduced to such sniveling cowardice is inexcusable. The British Isles and Europe itself was once a land where the fae roamed freely and took as we saw fit. Now we consign ourselves to an island while the weapons we made are being wielded by children pretending that they are worthy of such might and power. This disrespectful meekness cannot be allowed to continue. It is time for the fae to take back all that is ours. Excalibur, Rhongomyniad, even Britain itself!" The replicant declared, while a few others looked down at the captured witch, wanting to see her expression.

Morgan seemed more annoyed than anything else, "Yes, I gathered as much from King Oberon and Queen Titania during my little stay on Avalea. However, much like them, it seems that you are mistaken about something." Aurora and her replicants stared down at her. "The fae did not create those weapons. They were created by the 9 Sisters of Avalon, the predecessors of both the fae and humanity." She said calmly.

The auroras stared at her before they all cracked out laughing, overlaying, and transforming into the distorted laugh of a haughty noblewoman. "OH MY… YOU TRULY ARE AN IGNORANT ONE, MORGAN PENDRAGON!"

Slowly, they all calmed down and the replicant the farthest to Morgan's left spoke, "Perhaps that is what that wizard told you. However, in truth, the 9 Sisters of Avalon are the original fae, the oldest and mightiest of our kind. It was them who constructed the holy weapons to defeat the White Titan, along with the aid of the mighty and benevolent Cernunnos, as well as aided in the development of Britain itself. Back then, it was a wonderland, where creatures of magic could exist freely without any restriction."

She then hissed, "And look what has come to Britain now. The fae no longer reside on it at all. Avalea was once a part of the British Isles, but a previous conflict from a few thousand years ago caused it to be split off, and it became its own land. There are no more dragons here, nor any elves or dwarves. What is left of our history here is either destroyed as humanity hunts down and kills what is left of the old magic or twisted into a caricature of the truth and wielded by the ignorant, stealing what is rightfully ours, and smearing the legacy of the 9 Sisters who gave so much for the creation of Britain. Just look at yourself." The replicant sneered, "You are a walking example."

Morgan, however, was still not impressed, "Then what if I were to tell you that not only are the sacred weapons you speak of are not being used by thieves, but that they are also still in the possession of those descended from the 9 Sisters?" They stared at her, "The 9 Sisters of Avalon were Moronoe, Mazoe, Glitonea, Gliten, Cliton, Tyronoe, Thitis, Thetis, and Morgan respectively." They wondered why she was telling them common knowledge for a fae, while Morgan closed her eyes, "King Oberon is descended from Moronoe, and Queen Titania from Tyronoe." She then opened her eyes, "As for my dear sister, Artoria and I, along with my children, we are descended from the original Morgan of the 9 Sisters."

They stared at her in disbelief as she scoffed, "Please, it needn't be a surprise. There are a plenty of cases in which the fae mated with humans. My ancestor simply chose to do so herself, and the child produced from that continued their line until my mother gave birth to myself and then later my sister." Morgan smiled, "Yes, from our father, we inherit the blood of the Pendragons, and from our mother, flows the magic of the 9 Sisters. Moreso, Lady Vivianne of the Lake also happens to be descended from another as well. Thetis, to be more precise." Morgan then laughed softly as the Auroras stared at her in disbelief, "So you see, there really isn't any major violation in who is holding the weapons apparently. They are still being used in service of those descended from the 9 Sisters of Avalon. Eventually, our time will pass, and soon, the fae could freely retake their ancestral heirlooms without worry. As such, all this talk of civil war and seizing what was lost by force is unnecessary. A complete waste of time at best."

Aurora of the Wind Clan stared at her, as did her replicants, before they all broke out into identical uproar, their laughter like the made shrieks of a banshee now as the light emanating from them became sickly and pale, yet still very brilliant, the cruel miasma beneath their elegant beauty slipping out. "My oh my, you really are a character, Morgan Pendragon." They all sneered at her, "Another little story Merlin told you back when you were an ignorant little girl to fill you with wrongful pride. It's so funny, I find it rather sad."

Morgan rolled her eyes, "Believe it or not, it's the truth. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that it is a waste to both of our times to have me bound in… wherever I am. Why do you not just release me so we may go our separate ways? You leave me alone, and I shall leave you. Your conflict with your King and Queen is a matter of the fae, and as you have clearly stated I am not one of you, just let me go. I have no stake in this civil war."

One of the replicants smirked, "And where exactly would you go then, Morgan Pendragon? Back to Orkney, or perhaps Camelot?" A couple of the other replicants joined her as she asked, "What are you even doing so far off the British Isles? To travel these sorry places like a lost widow?"

Morgan stayed quiet as they all laughed, "Well then, it seems I am not the only one to be driven out from my land like a dog!" Their smiled took a devilish light as they spoke, "Perhaps you had hoped that Titania and Oberon would take you in and make you a member of the fae, how sad."

The Aurora in the center then spoke, "I suppose that it would make sense that humans would turn on whatever beings of magic remained on their land. Your father, Uther Pendragon, barely trusted anyone of magic save for the half-succubus. He followed the wishes of his forefathers to create what they hoped to be a paradise for humanity. Do you know what happened to the last few remaining ogres and giants that had remained on Britain?" Aurora gave her a sad look, "Your father all but wiped them from the land, killing them all before driving the remaining few that survived from Britain."

The eldest child of Britain remained silent as Aurora and her replicants 'pitied' her, "I suppose it's only fate that you would face the fate your father forced upon so many others. No wonder you want to connect with our race. We may be the only family you have left. Poor Morgan Pendragon, no place for her in Britain, so she tried to be a fae. An outcast to her own people… just like me." She said as her eyes narrowed.

Morgan glared at Aurora and her replicants, "And what does it mean to you? Why would you care about the fate of one you see as a fraud and a pretender? What should it matter if I am subjected to what you see as a twist of fate? From what I see, you enjoy it, do you not?"

Aurora sighed, "Come now, let us not lose control of ourselves, Morgan Pendragon. I was simply stating an observation. One which, from what I see, is rather accurate to why you are here, instead of in Britain." She looked down somewhat sadly, "I suppose you may have done something they thought was wrong, regardless of if it was or not, and punished you for it. I can understand that to be honest." Aurora's replicants then joined in her sadness as she went on, "I tried to be loyal to them, despite how they insulted our kind, I tried to be dutiful, even as I expressed my concerns. I tried to be reasonable and convince them that we should make a stand and take back what is rightfully ours, but they refused."

Another replicant continued, "Titania simply rejects any suggestion I ever provide out of petty jealousy over my multiple affairs with Oberon, even though she herself slept with several other men, including the half-succubus. Oberon, meanwhile, is too proud and conceited to see that our ancestral weapons are far more important than his selfish gamble with Merlin and refuses to act. What's more is that their actions are likely motivated out of fear as well, for the half-succubus alone can match either of them, a fight against him while holding our sacred relics is more than they wish to face. So, no matter how I implored, they rejected me. Then, when I, along with those who saw the wisdom in my words, chose to take matters into our own hands, they refused to let us go forward, and as such, a battle was inevitable."

Morgan stared at them, "And, pardon my curiosity, how does that align with myself? What are you playing at Lady Aurora?"

Another replicant spoke, "I know what it feels like, to be so unfairly cast out, even though you wished to do nothing wrong. We are both in the same place, you abandoned by your family, me abandoned by those whom I served. And, like me, you want to go back there, right?"

Morgan turned her eyes away from them, not wanting them to see the loneliness she felt. She'd always been alone at so many points in her life. As a little girl, she would often wait in the nunnery alone, waiting for her parents to take her back. After losing Teneu, she'd chosen to bear the burden of the truth alone, not telling her children, not even her dear sister, who reminded her she wasn't alone. It had been a self-appointed burden for her failure, and now she was carrying a new one. She'd tampered with the life of her illegitimate son while letting the darkness back in, barely able to stop before it was too late. Now, she was in a self-imposed exile to find herself, to discover her own identity. Morgan wished she could say she had made progress, but she hadn't not truly. Even now, she still felt alone, not able to be fully honest… except with her shadow… who was only ever too honest with her…

"Perhaps we can both find our way back together, rather than separately?" Another replicant questioned as Morgan suddenly eyed them suspiciously. "Why not, we've both been driven out and abandoned by those we followed despite our actions to aid them. Let us help one another rather than continue to quarrel, as you yourself said."

"Help us in reclaiming Excalibur, and the rest of the relics." A different one spoke, "You're the sister of 'King Arthur.' You should be more than capable of convincing 'him' of the importance of returning them to their proper owners. By showing them to Oberon and Titania, it will allow them to see that I was right, and they will end their petty feud with me. In turn, I'll agree to let Camelot be under my protection. You will be my ambassador, my spokeswoman, the one to ensure an alliance between Camelot and the fae, providing it with decades of prosperity and safety."

"You'll receive the praise and adoration of Camelot for your noble services, they will see you as a savior. And if not, with my protection, there will be nothing that they can do to hurt you." The Aurora hovering right above her eyes said, "So why not make the sensible choice?" The plantlike binds constraining Morgan loosened and disentangled, allowing her to sit up as the Aurora extended a hand, "Join me, be my ambassador." She gave Morgan an angelic smile, "And together, we can take back everything that was taken from us."

Morgan stared at the hand before batting it aside, rolling her eyes as she stood up, Aurora and her replicants staring at her curiously. Looking down for a second, Morgan realized she'd been lying on a rather large lily pad. "Is that really it?" She asked, "You want me to serve as your buffer, because you're too petty and chaotic to do it yourself?" The witch then glared at all copies of Aurora, "How funny that you judge Oberon and Titania to be cowards when you yourself are worse. You don't want me to negotiate a transfer of the royal arms, you want me as a captive to ensure that they're given over. And please, 'placing Camelot under my protection?' Don't make me laugh." She scoffed, "All that ranting you made about the humiliation of your ancestral relics being wielded by humans, do you expect me to believe you'll care at all about protecting Camelot? You will not even accept that my sister and I are descended from the 9, so why would you care about us?" Morgan laughed, "Oh, and pray tell, do you intend to show Oberon and Titania they were wrong after you've overthrown them, or before?"

The Auroras stared at her quietly before they all sighed with seeming disappointment, "How sad." The middle one said, "It seems that you've bought into all the slander they've lathered on my name. It's unfortunate, we would really work well together."

Morgan shrugged, "I'd be less inclined to trust them if I had not been captured and held here against my will. Also, I don't fully trust those that have no problem with making clones of themselves to keep them company. It's a bit uncanny for me, that's all." She then turned around, "In any case, I should get going. Thank you for the offer, but I will have to reject it. I hope you find the courage to either take the royal weapons or face your King and Queen, you simply waste your time as you are now. Don't worry, I'll stay out of your affairs if you stay out of mine. Now, farewell."

Before she could go anywhere, she found herself bound by plant-like chains once again, wrapping around her arms, legs, stomach, and neck. Her eyes moved around as she noticed the replicants of Aurora surrounding her again, "It really is a shame, Morgan Pendragon. Had you been willing to help us, we'd have willingly helped you return home."

Another sighed, "Unfortunately, the fact that you can be so easily twisted by the words of Oberon and Titania is too dangerous to set aside. If I am to lead my kind back to their rightful dignity, I cannot afford such risks. Your worth is rather high, Morgan, and my place is precarious. I need your help."

Morgan's eyes narrowed, "And what is it you will do to me to get it?" She asked as a greenish light extended from their hands.

Another replicant smiled, "Do not be afraid, you will feel no pain but this must be done, should everything else go smoothly, you will be turned to normal unharmed."

As the lights hit Morgan, she shrieked and fell to her knees. Her entire body felt like it was melting and twisting, the strange light seeping into every cell in her body and mutating it. As she stared her arms, her eyes widened as she saw they were turning into bug-like appendages, as did her legs. She felt as though something was about to rip out of her back, as well as the top of her head. Even her face and forehead, she felt like there was something ripping through from the inside. Her body was growing hairy and changing color… it was mutating…

'She wants to mutate us into a bug-like minion, just as she likely did with those elves…' The shadow spoke as Morgan nodded in agreement. 'Of course, bold of them to assume that we'd let them… as if she ever could…'

Yes, that was right… she was Morgan Pendragon… Morgan Le Fay… one of the last descendants of the 9 Sisters. Did this arrogant and entitled faerie really think she could force Morgan to become her puppet… No… how amusing…

The darkness flowed through her, and for the 1st time in quite a while, Morgan willingly allowed it to. Her eyes glowed goal as the intrusive fae magic burned away inside of her, a dark aura surrounding her body as she smiled wickedly. "Unfortunately for you, Aurora, this simple magic isn't going to be enough to contain me. I've played nicely so far… but now, why don't we just dispense with the pleasantries…" She ripped off the binds as her body returned to its normal form, "AND SIMPLY CUT TO THE CHASE!"

13 pale, ethereal magical swords surrounded Morgan, one for each Aurora, and she spread her arms out and spun as they all launched at their targets. In response, each Aurora simply extended an arm forward and manifested a barrier of light, each barrier connecting with one another, strengthening each other as the blades of light smashed against them, Aurora and her replicants taken aback by the power they now felt swirling within the witch. As Morgan spun faster and faster, the dark aura swirled around her, picking up the wind and the water as it did so. In a few moments, Morgan was surrounded by a miniature hurricane of water, wind, and darkness, her body disappearing within the whirlwind she had created.

Scoffing, two of the Auroras waved their hands and the miniature storm dissipated, only now, Morgan was nowhere to be found. A few of the replicants looked around the surrounding forest, but there was no sign of her escaping there in a hurry, not to mention that it was impossible for her to have escaped without being seen. That meant there was only one place for Morgan to be hiding in…

As one of the Auroras hovered down to the lake, she noticed the water rippling in several places. With only a blink, several lights began to shine within the water, heating up the lake as steam began to seep up. The replicants took a moment to see that they numbered around 40 or 50 in total. In a flash, swords of light in the shape of Excalibur burst from the lake, causing the Aurora nearest to the water to panic and fly up as fast as she could, 2 other Auroras coming to her rescue and creating a barrier shield. As the blades were either deflected by a magical barrier or missed their targets, their eyes narrowed as each blade stopped moving, broke apart, and then shot forward again.

Working in perfect unison, each Aurora guarded the other's blind spot or weak point, their defenses impenetrable as they stayed on guard. The broken shards of the ethereal swords exploded in blinding flashes of light, causing them all to pause as they protected their eyes. When they opened their eyes safely, a certain witch was now floating before them at an equal height.

Golden eyes pierced through them all as Morgan grinned, "Well now, too scared to play, or should I find an actual challenge somewhere else?" She got her answer as the Auroras surrounded her in a circle, each emitting a golden light while possessing a determined glare. The witch chuckled as her dark aura clashed with their radiant ones, "Very well, let the games begin!" She clapped her hands together as the dark aura surrounding her tightened and grew in heat. "Vieryon del Avalon, piert voum Pendragon." The aura surrounding her took on a fiery form as she flourished her arms, "Digofaint Draig Tywyll!"

With that, the dark fiery aura shot upwards and took a serpentine-like form before it grew wings, claws, and red eyes. An enchanted force of dark flames. Morgan smiled as another several dozen ethereal swords then manifested around her, "So then Aurora, let me see what the new leader of the fae can do. All of you!" With that, her dark dragon shot forward with open jaws and claws, her blades of light looking to skewer their targets. Aurora and her replicants remained controlled, glaring at the witch as glyphs manifested around them.

…

…

"You felt that too, didn't you?" Oberon asked Titania, who nodded. "I suppose that means she found her. Which leaves only one thing left to do." He turned his head to the right as Telaria and Sigurd flew up to see them. "Are our forces ready?"

Telaria nodded, "The Storm Brigade is ready at any moment. We simply await your command."

Sigurd also added, "I have spoken to Mertimo as well, he's gotten the flock of Vyarnyan Crows under command. All we wait for is knowledge of when to depart."

King Oberon smiled, "We wait no longer. Inform all forces to begin to move. We will not stop until all the insurgents have been routed. The time to strike is now."

After a few moments, hundreds of faeries took off from Avalea crossing over the ocean to finish off Aurora and her treasonous allies.

…

…

Well, one thing was for certain, fighting multiple copies of a single foe was far tougher than one might think, especially if that foe was already a powerful fae on her own. Even as Morgan drew from the darkness within to empower herself, it was an uphill battle. Each replicant was of equal power to the original, so it was impossible to tell them apart. They all knew each other's moves and thought processes, allowing them to seamlessly blend their attacks together, counter Morgan's attacks, and bombard her with spells and hexes. Even her dark magic dragon was doing little more than keeping them at bay yet hadn't been able to badly wound one.

Morgan growled with anger, she needed to break them apart and fight them one-on-one if she was to stand a chance, and even then, it would be a tiring ordeal. She eyed them all in a few seconds, there was little chance she could bait one away, they were watching her too carefully. That meant her only options were brute force… and a good bit of trickery. Grinning, Morgan chanted madly as she spun in the air, her dark dragon coiling around her before swallowing her whole, its gaze now focused on a particular Aurora to the left that it shot towards, spinning its body around while at the same time revolving around the space between its coiling form that it became a hurricane of dark fire. At the same time, Morgan, within the torrent of dark magic, whispered softly as her golden eyes glowed, several illusions of her dark dragon superimposing themselves onto it as she did so, and the fiery magic seemed to get only larger and more intense.

Not skipping a beat, the other Auroras spread their arms as their butterfly wings shined golden light in Morgan's way, negating the illusions and leaving the singular dark magic dragon visible for the last one. Smiling sweetly, she erected a magic barrier to block the dragon's fire, the creature of dark magic colliding against the golden light to no avail, only getting weaker and weaker. As Morgan became visible and she attempted to summon ethereal blades to assist her, the Aurora released a golden wave of magic to negate the spell before grabbing Morgan's arms to keep her from falling. She then smiled, "I believe that should be enough for now. How about we stop this and make up, okay?"

Morgan stared at her for a second and then gave the Aurora holding her a grin in turn, "Of course." She then giggled as something cut through the faerie's dress and into her skin, the Aurora gasping as she froze, the others staring at her as they sensed something horrible had just happened. "Of course, it always helps to stand on equal footing during a bargain." Recasting her levitation spell, Morgan twisted the Aurora around to show her to her other replicants, a certain golden dagger lodged right beneath her chest.

The faerie tried to reach for the magical weapon, but Morgan then twisted the knife, causing her to gasp and stiffen as light seemed to leave her body, slowly losing the radiant glow her others had. She painfully tried to reach out but as she stretched out her arm, her eyes widened as she saw that it was growing older and wrinkled, her hand bony and gnarled. Her replicants stared at her in horror, staring at their alternate with wide eyes as they kept their distance. Morgan laughed as she ripped the knife out of the fae before waving it at the others.

"Always a good idea to keep Erosion hidden, don't you agree? I decided from now on that I'd never lose it." Morgan smirked as she pressed the knife to the weakened fae's throat, "Powerful enough to destroy the soul of whoever cuts themselves upon its blade, no matter how powerful they are. All of you may be equally strong, but that won't save you one bit." Her eyes then turned a bloody red as her hair went wild, dark power fueling her, "Now, try this on for size!"

The weakened Aurora then gasped as a red glyph surrounded her body, Morgan chanted badly as the fae's body began to radiate a bloody red light, "Zavros ibyreno azkusto fren jien, deba vyro son Aurora! Vyren fjor balvada!" She cackled, "MIER ZHUN VATASTA!"

To the horror of her foes, a blast of dark magical energy gushed out from their alternate's body, bloody black and red hues filling their vision as it spouted towards them. Instantly, they all joined together to form an impenetrable magical barrier to deflect their attack, but to their shock, the blast only got bigger, swelling in size and intensity as it chipped away at their defenses.

As Morgan watched, the dark energies of a Pendragon chosen by Britain surging through her, she had to admire her handiwork. It was akin to a genetic assailant, a viral magical attack that targeted those of similar genes and matching souls of it host, and the more similar targets there were, the more deadly it became. When King Oberon and Queen Titania told her that Aurora had a faerie that could construct an identical copy of anything, including a living being's form from scratch, in body, mind, ability, and spirit, she had admittedly been impressed. Such an ability was highly rare, and she had no idea what the upper limits of it even were. However, in this case, it had only given Aurora and her clones an extra vulnerability, one she was all too willing to exploit. A tad ruthless, but the rogue faerie had gone after her, so she wasn't feeling that much guilt over it.

As the dark energy blast further cracked their barrier, every single Aurora seemed to realize what had happened, and they all grimaced at what they had to do. One by one, each started chanting a hymn as their bodies glowed, rainbow energy swirling through every last one, connecting them all in a rainbow-like mobius strip. Morgan's eyes flickered as the replicants all swirled into the rainbow light, fading away as their essence was combined into one single Aurora… the original one, possibly.

The last Aurora shined with a radiance unlike what Morgan had ever seen before, a dazzling rainbow emanating from her body as she absorbed the now weakened dark magical blast. Transforming it into a ball of rainbow energy, she launched it at Morgan, who dropped the withered husk of the last replicant and dodged out of the way… or at least tried to. The rainbow light seemed to have homed in on her every move, catching up to her in the blink of an eye. Morgan erected a barrier at the last second, but the blast had the power of 12 Auroras, shattering the barrier and sending her flying into the lake.

As Morgan struggled to rise out of the water, Aurora took her dying replicant in her arms gently before calling out, "SILICA!" From the forest, red haired faerie flew to her master's side, stifling a cry as she saw the weakened replicant before bowing to her leader, "Restore her, and recreate the rest. I want them done as soon as possible."

Silica lowered her head, "I-I, I am not sure how well they will be on short…"

"Silica, darling," The redhead stared at her master, "I trust that you will be able to recreate me exactly as necessary. After all, that trust in you has been the only reason I believed our rebellion could be possible." She brought their heads close and stared at her pleadingly, "I know you can do it, right?" She asked as her eyes radiated a lustrous light, her voice as sweet as honey and as soft as a lover.

Silica blushed and nodded, "Y-yes!" She straightened herself as she took the ill replicant, "It shall be done, Queen Aurora!" She declared as she flew back into the woods. Aurora smiled as her follower vanished into the trees, before turning her head to look at Morgan Le Fay, who seemed to be caught between a smirk and a scowl.

"What, are you too vain to face anyone without being surrounded by yourself, or simply too afraid?" Morgan snarked, only Aurora gave no reply, "What's the matter, too paralyzed to-"

She was cut short as Aurora resumed the conflict, now with murderous intent in her eyes. One to one, Morgan could've probably taken her, but with her powers amplified to such an extent, it would be a grueling fight, especially since Aurora had dispensed of all pleasantries. Unlike the witch, who had to levitate and fly using magic, Aurora's wings made that second nature, and zipping around several times faster than the human eye could see wasn't exactly easy to keep up with. She had to stay on the defensive, her senses and instincts alerting her to danger as Aurora continued her vicious assault.

Even so, Morgan didn't simply stay down, she struck back as well. They matched each other blow for blow for who knows how long, minutes, hours, it was hard to say. All Morgan could tell as their fight continued was that the lake was steaming and halfway evaporated, the surrounding trees were on fire, and both she and Aurora were growing tired. Despite her cloak being in tatters and her dress somewhat singed, Morgan found herself smiling, laughing even. Fighting against someone in such a feverish manner, unlocking her darkness and wielding it without restraint, it felt so emancipating, and so very fulfilling.

"I suppose it's time for us to finally put an end to this." Morgan declared as dark magic surrounded her palms, "Evenyr artyr vire, vakthru perti fentaru, mrinio vanotu edvan-" As she chanted, magic circled around Aurora as well, ready for one final clash. "Tevkon rakshis vanum… Takvon Lor Rekvhan Avor! VINRIATTAM!"

As Morgan unleashed her beam of dark energy, Aurora met hers with a beam of gold. The air rippled around them both as them were stuck in a deadlock. The witch grit her teeth, dredging up more power as she pushed her opponent back. Aurora may have been powered up by gaining the magic of her replicants, but even then, the faerie had a limit. Morgan likely had one as well, but who knew what it was, she surely didn't know. For quite some time, even when facing Vortigern, she had resisted delving into her darkness, trying to match him with her base abilities. Even when unleashing her anger against Lot, that had just been a drop in a bucket of her untapped potential. Who knew how far she could really go; she had never tried.

Well, now she was, and as she willed even more power from within, she wondered if there was a limit at all…

However, getting lost in the fight and her own increasing magical energy left her blind to what was coming, and suddenly she felt her body feeling scorched by heat. "GAAUGH!" She shrieked as she tried to maintain her beam while looking around to see where it had come from. As she moved her head to the left, her eyes widened as she saw a familiar dazzling fae close in on her, "No…" Before she had time to process this, she was then blasted from the right, causing her to turn her head and stare in shock to see another Aurora! Another blast came from the lower left, top right, until eventually she was being bombarded by blasts of heat that burned her skin and damaged her clothing further.

They were everywhere… damn it all, she had known fighting the enhanced Aurora was just a distraction to recreate the replicants, but she hadn't expected it would be done so soon. Now the empowered aura was pouring even more energy into their magical beam struggle, all the while her replicants bombarded her from every open angle. Hissing with anger, she did her best to create ethereal blades to intercept their attacks while also focusing on her main opponent, but that just prompted the others to ramp up her attacks, unleashing barrages of magic faster than she could properly counter. With no other option, Morgan created a barrier shield to give her a little breathing room, but even then, it was only buying her moments of time, the main Aurora was close to overcoming her, and her replicants had no plan to make it a fair contest.

As her foe's beam grew only feet away from her, Morgan dredged up her anger and rage, funneling her fury at being forced into this altercation over what amounted to fragile ego, childish entitlement, and reckless vanity. Channeling her wrath, Morgan merged her dark beam with her barrier, turning it into a dark sphere that surrounded her and blocked the main Aurora's attack, Morgan shuddering as she felt the force of it. Tightening the energy glowing through it, Morgan let out a vicious howl as the barrier expanded and turned into and explosive force of power, sending ripples of dark magic out for miles away.

Smoke surrounded her as Morgan breathed heavily, but she found there was no time for rest, as once again plant-like chains wrapped around her arms and legs, holding her taut, and as Morgan found, they were even stronger than the ones before. As she struggled to break free, her eyes widened as the Auroras surrounded her in a circle, closing in on her as they stared at her with a sickly-sweet expression. Even worse, one of them waved their hand and the dagger of Erosion was freed from Morgan's side and was now floating in the air, its blade pointed directly at Morgan's head.

"It really is a tragedy that we could not get along," Aurora said with a smile, "However, it is time for us to part ways." Morgan hissed; this couldn't be how it ended for her… not like this! "Rest well… Morgan Pendragon." Before the blade could prick the witch though, several blasts of light shot at the fae and her replicants, prompting them to scatter as the blasts burned the vines holding Morgan. Aurora looked up to see who it was while the witch quickly used magic to grab her knife, "It can't be…" Aurora muttered.

"Greetings Aurora, my faithful subject and leader of the wind clan," Oberon stated as he, his wife, and a few hundred of their forces hovered in the sky on the back of what appeared to be 5-6 ft large black birds with red eyes. "Unfortunately, you have long since thrown, away your title, and place with your kind. And now you shall pay the price."

---

Chapter 46: The Merge Approaches (Part 1: All Arrive as Needed)

Vortigern Pendragon had been the older brother of Uther Pendragon, 1st son of Aurelius Ambrosius the Good. Forced to free from their home as children, the 2 brothers would return years later, drive out the usurpers that took away their parents, and establish order throughout all of Britain. War turned the young, angry man into a battle-hardened warrior, whose skin turned dark from the searing burns of dragon fire, and whose eyes became yellow after awakening his hidden potential from his burning desire to live. When victory had been one, he eventually gave up the throne and passed it to his brother, building a citadel atop Dinas Emrys where the White Dragon hid, using Saxon slaves he had taken from battlefields and raids to build it. Merlin had told him that one day, a soul of that of a red dragon would eventually kill Albion and his legacy, but Vortigern chose to keep an eye on it anyway. He feared that ruling the now stable Camelot may diminish his edge and instincts, and though he despised the Saxons, at least he would be wary of any tricks they would use against him.

At 1st, he ruled over his slaves like a cruel tyrant, his anger and hatred over the misery he'd been forced to endure from the traitors who had aligned with the Saxons and murdered his parents, stolen his home, even now it filled his heart. The fear and terror that had filled his heart over worrying for his brother when they had been forced to flee, the many fights he'd had against them, the horrors on the battlefield, and the burning flames that had irreparably altered his skin. Suffice to say, he still possessed much anger towards, and it was something they all knew. He'd beat them, deprive them of water, gave them no care during the winter. It was likely that them constructing his citadel was simply a means to torture them, after all, as their numbers dropped, he'd have Welsh laborers build it, whom he treated better.

Then came the day he'd met her… Rowena, daughter of the Saxon warrior Hengist, whom he had killed in battle. She carried herself unlike the others among her, while they showed fear or anger, swearing curses of revenge at him or groveling for mercy, she showed neither fear nor hatred. Rowena carried herself in a manner that could only be described as that of a servant and royalty. Her beauty was 2nd none, with her dark hair and hazel eyes, even though her clothes would get torn and ragged, she showed no loss of composure or any sign of pain. She went about her work without complaint, and the only time she stopped was to help her fellow Saxons heal, for she was in fact a witch. She was skilled in curses, but also the healing arts, prayed to her Gods to show her the path, and kept the spirits of her fellow slaves up, telling them this was a trial for a great victory in the future.

He saw her while she was healing an older male, grabbing her while she was in the middle of chanting and shoving her against the wall. Pointing his sword at her as she tried to clear her mind, he had growled, "I do not remember telling you to stop, nor give you permission to heal the rest of the dogs." Rowena said nothing, as she eyed him quietly, "Well, have you nothing to say?"

She stared at him for a few moments, before speaking, "Are you going to do it?" He looked at her, "Are you going to kill me?" Vortigern blinked at her, "You aren't the sort of man who would give into such base fear."

Fear… what had she meant by fear… Vortigern did not know, but what he did know was that his blade was shaking, and he didn't like that. He let her live, deciding later to visit Camelot and see his family. While he was always happy to see his brother, and was glad Uther seemed to be managing things well, he grew worried at what he saw. The people of Camelot were growing more passive, the hard-won peace was making them do little but loiter, drink, and tell songs, rather than ready their swords. When he returned to Dinas Emrys, he unleashed his anger again on his slaves, terrorizing them to quell the phantoms of his mind. Before he had almost struck down one with his sword, she intervened, casting a protective hex while pulling her friend behind her, glaring at him.

Once again, she found herself pushed to a wall by him, a hand on her neck, a knife in his other, yet she looked at him with no fear, "So, will you just finish this and dishonor me, coward?" She asked him as his fury turned hot, slowly bringing the knife to her cheek, cutting a scar, yet she was undaunted, "I would have been honored to die by the hand of the fearless man whom my father lost to in battle, who had endured dragon fire. Yet all that comes to kill me is a coward seeking to quiet the nightmares roaming around his soul." He stared at her, "Am I not wrong, we can't kill you… none of us can. We are no threat, but even so, you use us to assuage the terrors in your mind, the fear and raging that torments your heart." She glared at him, "We are not the reason, yet you choose to torture us, because the truth is torture to you." Rowena chuckled as he remained motionless, "So, finish it!"

Vortigern stared at her for several minutes, before letting go of her neck, and sheathing his knife, their eyes never leaving as she sank to the floor, gazing at each other for several more minutes…

…

He slowly began to treat them better, not because he'd grown to care, but because she had been right. His fears had led him to hurt them to calm his mind, and such actions unbecoming of him, especially when he had hated those types of people in his past. Their lives became bearable, and as times passed, he began leaving Dinas Emrys less and less, and once he was finished, he hardly even needed to. He had become distant to the people outside, their passivity and lack of willpower, slothful, gluttonous, and sluggish behavior. Even Uther was starting to grow a bit soft, he hardly ever seemed to be doing things without discussing with Merlin 1st. By Albion, the wizard had been an ally, yet Uther was growing far too dependent on him for Vortigern's liking.

He met her a few times after that, small glances, nothing more. He'd see her more after finishing up hunting, where he silently watches her at times heal the other hunters or use the skin of the animals as offerings in her rituals. At times he'd catch her staring at him, yet they spoke no word to each other, simply remaining silent. Then came one day, when he found her approaching him, healing from a sore leg caused by a hunting accident a few days ago.

"What is it?" He had asked her as she came in, waving his guards away as she came to him.

"Some of my friends have been badly wounded, and I do not know by whom. I would have asked one of the knights, yet I did not know whom to trust. So, I chose to come to you." When he asked why she did not think he had a hand in it, she replied, "It would not make sense for you to suddenly behave cowardly again." He found out who had done it, apparently a jilted knight had been angry when one of her friends rejected his advances and swung his sword at her, then at the other 2 when she'd tried to stop him. Vortigern dealt with him handily while she healed her friends.

"Who exactly taught you magic?" He asked her.

"My mother." She replied, "She taught me from a young age while father trained my brother Edwyr in the ways of the sword." A silence laid on them for a 2nd, "You never met him, he died bravely in battle before we arrived in Britain." After a few moments, she asked, "So, from whom did you inherit your gifts." She asked as she stared at his golden eyes.

Vortigern sighed, "My mother as well. A family heritage I presume." He stared up at the sky, "At times though, I wonder if she ever wanted me to have it. Likely not, given I never knew I had it until not too long ago."

"The Pendragons are powerful indeed." She noted, and then pondered. "Perhaps she thought you happier without knowing. For some, the willingness to trade strength for bliss is a tempting one." He stared at her as she went on, not even looking at him, "But I would not think too badly of it. After all, it's in a parent's nature to want to protect their children from what will harm them." She laughed at an old memory, "After all, my father was always too scared of me to get hurt to bring me to a battlefield. I had to sneak out and see one for myself." Her smile faded after that. He nodded, and they simply sat there together, not saying another word. One of her friends did not make it, so she buried the body and performed a ritual, a few other Saxons helping her. Vortigern watching her as she did so, respectfully keeping silence as she went about the burial.

…

Eventually, his slaves stopped being his slaves, and became his soldiers, and the line between Welsh and Saxon diminished until there was none. Vortigern grew fond of his citadel, and even more shockingly, grew fond of his people. Because that's what they had become, his people. He was the ruler of Dinas Emrys, and they were his people. Soon enough, other Saxons themselves came to Dinas Emrys to stay as well. While many who came hoped to conspire with others to bring Vortigern down, they found themselves shocked to see that their fellow Saxons were genuinely loyal to the man who had once been their enemy. It was surprising for Vortigern as well, nor was it his intention. However, he was strong, brave, maintained order and discipline, and having stopped placing his fears on them, a fair ruler.

Slowly, Vortigern felt a growing disconnect with the world outside Dinas Emrys, most of his former allies were growing lax and soft, some becoming drunk on victory, others trying to forget the battlefield entirely due to the horrors they'd seen. Not to mention, he heard whispers around him of being a sellout to the Saxons, word of Dinas Emrys likely reaching far. Even Uther, whom he still trusted him and vice versa, was concerned over Vortigern's trust in his Saxon subjects and warned him to keep a closer eye on them, even escorting him with a small army back to his citadel to ensure there was no rebellion. Admittedly, Vortigern was somewhat hurt, he thought his brother trusted him more than to fall for the deceptions of his subjects… he wondered what Merlin was whispering in his ears.

Soon, Vortigern found himself feeling adrift, lost, his instincts and the ghosts in his mind screamed that action needed to be taken, that the united Britain he dreamed of with his brother was not yet complete, yet he didn't know what to do. Alliances had already been made, their names were revered and feared throughout the land and beyond it, and they had even driven out trolls and giants from the land with the wizard's help. Yet still, he knew that danger lay around the corner, it was everywhere, it laid within the apathetic and slothful folk who were getting drunk on peace and forgetting to be active. It laid within schemers no doubt plotting to kill them, it laid within the very tunnel his citadel was guarding, deep below the ground where the White Dragon lied. Danger was everywhere, it was breathing down his neck… and he knew he couldn't stop it.

And then came that day, the day that came every year when all his fears and anger came to the surface and nearly drive him insane, the day they had been murdered. That single day had defined his entire life, his father's assassination by one of the royal guards, and his beloved mother Iona shot with multiple arrows as they were escaping on horseback, Vortigern shielding Uther's eyes as they were forced to escape alone, save for a few loyal men who helped them. That memory had been engraved within his very soul and became his greatest strength and weakness. In days of stagnation, it nearly burned him alive, yet on the battlefield, it was the fire of his rage that guided his sword and brought down hundreds of enemies. Now however, what was there for him to do? He felt like he was drowning in the sea and burning alive all at once. Not knowing what to do, he merely traversed his citadel, paying little regard to those he passed.

Vortigern hadn't been looking for Rowena, but eventually, he found her outside the citadel, her arms wrapped around her knees as she sat in solitude. She paid him no mind when he arrived, merely staring at the autumnal leaves. It took a few moments before he heard a sniffle, and he realized she had been crying. "Is something wrong?" He asked her, not certain why he was asking.

"What does it matter to you?" She grumbled. Clearly whatever had been tormenting her was rather painful if she was speaking without her usual politeness and composure. Before, he'd have seen that attitude as analogous to disrespect and treachery from the Saxons, yet now, he knew better with her.

"You are a healer, and you help the knights and laborers. Your services give us a better chance of survival, especially in case the worst were to happen. As such, I need to understand your problems, before they hinder or cost us all." Somehow, he was able to focus now, the storm in his own mind quieting as he did so. "So, tell me, what is the matter?"

She stayed quiet for several moments before speaking, "My brother died on this day, some years ago." He looked at her with surprise. "I had spoken to the Gods before the battle, and they told me it would bring victory… hardly a victory though…" Her eyes were dim and cloudy, "He had wife, and they were expecting a child. She died not too long after him giving birth, and the child died with her." Taking a clump of grass in her hands, she stared at it for a moment before letting the wind blow it away, "It was an omen really, for what came next. Father and I travelled here to Britain, and you know what became of him." She noted.

He sighed, "Hengist was a worthy opponent, one of the fiercest I ever fought. It was a hard-won victory." A hand touched his sword, "At the very least, he died better than mine did, betrayed by his own men, on this very day." She was silent as he told her of the coup that had claimed his parents.

"A cowardly lot, if there ever was one," she noted, and he nodded. As she stood up, she stared at the vast forest before them, "When does fighting stop for you?"

"It never will." He replied. "Battle is always on the horizon, peace is merely the lull between them, the chaos of war is the inverse of peace, as such, all one can do is sharpen the blade for the next one." Vortigern stared at the sky, "Father hoped for a peaceful Britain, as does my brother now, and as I once did. But peace is impossible." He shook his head, "Even if it can only last in the moment, eventually, the lessons of the past will be forgotten to time. All it takes is one fool to ruin what so many build. And in this fragile world of ours, all we can do is put the pieces back together and wait for the next fool to come break it." The man unsheathed his sword, "And break it they will. You cannot protect forever, only prepare."

She nodded, "That's why you have to be strong, and not blink at death… even when it hurts… even as seeing it kills you inside…" Rowena lowered her head, "Because that is the world that we live in… the ones the Gods consigned us to…" As tears streamed down her face, Vortigern looked at her with understanding. The world was ruthless, unfair, and heartless, and while they had both come to accept that, it was one that neither of them liked, and he wondered if any did. He new of the Welsh Gods, and he even heard a bit about this practice called Christianity that was coming from Eastern Europe, even met a few priests, not that he paid attention to them though. The only reality for him had been the strengths of himself, Uther, and their men and allies, nothing more. How did Rowena view her Gods, did she follow them blindly, had her faith been shaken by what she felt they had failed to warn her, and why did she still pray, what sign was she waiting for… or was she waiting for anything at all?

To her surprise, he wrapped an arm around her, and led her back into the citadel, allowing her to lay her head on his shoulder while he did so. Neither said a word to anyone else as they traversed the citadel together…

…

Neither remembered who started it, but eventually, they both found themselves in his bed. However long they had been at it, neither could tell, but given that the candle had gone out, likely a while. Vortigern laughed, "So, I suppose that this has been your secret plan all along?"

She rolled her eyes, "How perceptive of you." Rowena rested her head on his chest, "Finally end up giving myself to a man, and this is what I receive."

He looked surprised, "You've never slept with another man before."

Rowena laughed, "Not for a lack of my parents trying, but all who tried were either unworthy or ended up dying in battle before we could be wed. Suffice to say, I am rather unlucky when it comes to love. Never felt it in such a way, before…" She looked away from him to hide her blush, "So, what of you?"

"Sevira." He told her, "Of Roman nobility." They stayed quiet for a moment before he finished, "She died after childbirth, it was a harsh winter. Our daughter was ill and died only a week later. I buried Io with her mother." Vortigern said quietly as he held her, running a finger through her hair, "You and her are a lot alike really." She looked at him, "Quiet, strong-willed, and so utterly unafraid of me." He said with a smile. Even back in the past, when he still retained his good looks pre-burning, his intensity had frightened many women who would have otherwise found him dashing, Uther usually having a more vulnerable, soft, and chivalrous demeanor that won them over, along with his surprising strength.

Vortigern had kept his soul armored, letting few through. Marrying Sevira had been a political move to gain allies, and she'd known that. Sevira hadn't wanted to be his toy, and her fearlessness cracked through his armor, and somehow, he won her heart. They had a happy time, short as it was, and Vortigern always wondered, if not for that winter, what would have come next? Now, he stared at his new lover and a new thought filled his soul. What would come now?

He stared at his arms and sighed, "Though I suppose your 1st time didn't have to be with this." He muttered shamefully, recalling how he'd barely survived the day he'd been burned. His yellow eyes, his torched skin, he had looked like a spawn from some apocalyptic world. While he had improved since then, and his burns didn't bother him as much, the scabs and calluses, the now dark skin, still black in some parts, were a constant reminder of what he had been through, all he had lost, all that he had sacrificed.

"It doesn't bother me." She told him, "You survived, that is all they show." She ran a hand on his right arm, "You entered the darkest nightmares, the fires and chaos of the battlefield, and endured its worst punishment. Yet despite it all, you survived. Where no one else survived before." She smiled at him, "To my people, you are a demigod, and to the Welsh, from what I here, you are quite the same." Bringing his hand to her cheek, she stared at him, "In you, I see a force and will unlike any other, a dragon that stands guard over his domain, one that no other creature can bring down, or destroy."

He chuckled as he kissed her forehead, "Well, I guess that makes sense, since I survived the fires of the White Dragon."

Her smile faded for a moment, before she swallowed, then looked at him, "We never controlled the White Dragon." Vortigern stared at her, "We were only controlling its shade."

He was confused, "Shade, what are you talking about?" The man asked as they both sat up. "What do you mean by controlling its shade, I felt the fire of its breath, my body is proof. So, what is its shade?"

She sighed, "My father and I only learned this after the fact, Lord Uhtred already had a dozen of witches controlling it by then, but I shall explain." She stared at the ground for a moment, as if wondering if it would speak, then shook her head. "When Lord Uhtred and his men were traversing Dinas Emrys, they discovered the cave that led to the White Dragon. As they explored, they were attacked by a creature that they assumed was the dragon itself. Though many of his men died, Uhtred was able to hold it a bay long enough for his witches to brand the creature and bring it under their control, but they later learned that it was not the mighty Albion at all, merely a projection created by the dragon."

Vortigern looked at her, "A projection? What do you mean by that?"

She pondered for a moment before speaking, "I mean it was as though the dragon created a smaller imitation of itself with its own thought and had it taken form and substance. Believe me, it sounds mad, yet I saw it myself. Physical and imposing, yet without a soul, the real consciousness of the beast was elsewhere. If I had to imagine, I would say that Albion has not left the ground since the time it was buried."

Vortigern stared at her for a moment before placing a hand on his head, "If what you say is true, then that would explain how we were able to defeat it. Merlin had stated he had driven it off after breaking it free. I've always doubted the idea that he could defeat it."

Rowena nodded, "I know little about this Merlin you speak of, but the idea of one wizard being enough to overpower the White Dragon is a fool's belief. More likely he undid the brands placed on it, and the projection disappeared, returned to its master." She pondered for a moment, "It's possible that Albion does not wish to interact with Albion, and so uses the projection to guard itself."

Vortigern wrapped an arm around her, "Let us find out for ourselves." He pulled her back into bed, "Tomorrow, of course." He grinned as she snuggled in his embrace, their nightmares becoming bearable for now.

The next day, he had a dozen guard come with them as they entered the cave that led to the White Dragon, several carrying torches to enable them to see their surroundings. It was massive and damp, due to the rain overnight, but not so much that it was hard to explore. They carefully went down the cave, the rocky entrance giving way to thick and hard soil, and the air felt thicker, denser, more alive almost. As they traveled further and further, Vortigern felt his body tingle, his senses starting to flare as he felt something deeper within the heart of the cave. It pulled at his soul, drawing him closer just as a moth was drawn to flames.

As they reached deeper into the cave, they felt a rumble from beneath, the cave shaking, and the stale air becoming faster. Rowena clung to Vortigern to keep her balance, while some of the knights slipped and fell. Taking a deep breath, Vortigern pushed forward, his companions doing the same. As they did, they felt a low beating sound, like that of a heart come from underneath, quiet at 1st, but growing stronger and steadier as time passed. His men struggled to retain their composure, and even Rowena could no longer hide the fear and anxiety she was feeling, clinging to her lover, who unconsciously laced their fingers together as he pressed onward.

"Grrrr…" They heard it, deep within the cave, and they all stopped. "Grrrrrrrr…" It happened again. Vortigern swallowed nervously, a familiar dread coursing through his spine as his body stiffened, the memories of that day seared into his very flesh and bone. The cave rumbled as a thrashing sound came from below, a strange change in the air occurring as the growl became louder and more pronounced.

"GRAAA…" It came again as the raking of claws against the dirt filled their ears. Finally, Vortigern noticed 2 red eyes star at him before it rushed at them, "GRAAAUUUGHH!" It roared as its reptilian body came into view, pearly white scale gleaming in the darkness as its bloody eyes glared with hunger. As the knights cried out and even Rowena took a step back, Vortigern stayed still, even as the dragon opened its mouth, heat swelling from within.

Memories of that battle filled his mind as his golden eyes glowed with a vicious intensity, tossing Rowena to a knight behind him as he shouted, "GET BACK!"

As the dragon unleashed a torrent of fire, Vortigern growled with hatred, recalling the day that had left him at death's doorstep for quite some time. As he glared at the wave of flame shooting at him, he only wondered if its intensity matched the burning nova living in his soul…

Darkness coursed through and around his body, wrapping around him like a cloak as his eyes became slits of gold, an inhuman roar ripping from his throat as the darkness swelled around him, "RRRAAAUUUUGGHHH!" He roared as the darkness formed a massive wall, blocking out the fire. His guards and Rowena watched with awe as the flame were buffeted away, diverted harmlessly before the Pendragon.

As Vortigern growled once more, his own darkness took the shape of a dark dragon, glaring down at the white creature that stood against them. With a vicious howl and a sway from him arms, Vortigern ordered his creation to strike the White Dragon, and it obeyed, snarling madly as it opened its jaw and launched itself forward. Its jaw pierced through the white beast's neck and crushed it, the creature crying out before it quieted down and fell. However, instead of bleeding out, it slowly faded away, reduced to sparks of light that faded away into the darkness. Vortigern and the rest watched with shock, all save Rowena, who seemed more in awe of Vortigern. She had honestly planned for them to run away if it got close to them, she never thought of a way to fight it.

"W-Was that… your power?" She questioned, to which he nodded. Rowena stared at the dark aura surrounding him with a mix of fear and awe. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt, something else entirely, like the dragon but, what was it?

As Vortigern calmed down and his aura quieted, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes…

So, you've returned…

Vortigern blinked as he looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from.

Pendragon…

Vortigern looked around, "Did any of you hear that?" He looked to Rowena and the guards, all of whom shook their heads, they had no idea what he was talking about. "S-Someone just spoke to me, I think. Who was it?"

I am what you came to witness… I am the reason why you exist…

Vortigern turned his head to investigate the cave, wondering if the voice was… Suddenly his brain was filled with chaotic images he couldn't understand, a howl leaving his mouth as his eyes glowed gold, and the darkness swelled around him. Suddenly, he found himself in he saw a red eye staring at him with an aura of age and power that made Vortigern feel like an insect by comparison.

I wonder, have you come to put me out of my misery, or claim my power as your ancestors tried so long ago.

Vortigern found himself back inside the cave as he was thrown back, Rowena and his guards rushing to help him up as the voice spoke to him one last time.

If not, then leave me be. I want nothing to do with humanity… or the Pendragons…

…

…

What did the dragon mean, and what had Vortigern seen? Both he and Rowena decided to find out for themselves, and after a few days of preparation, Rowena was ready to perform a memory spell. Stirring her pot with several herbs as well as the meat and blood from animal sacrifices, Rowena handed Vortigern a knife for the final step. Cutting his palm, Vortigern held his wounded hand over the pot as blood dripped out, the droplets causing the broth to take a reddish-purple hue as it frothed about.

Taking his hands in her, Rowena began chanting, the air around them rustling as her voice emitted a hauntingly melodic hymn. Slowly, as her voice grew louder, the brother frothed bout more violently as purple steam rose from it, seeping into Vortigern's nostrils, as well as Rowena. The 2 struggled for a moment as Rowena continued the spell, Vortigern keeping her up so that she did not fall and lose concentration. As she finished the chant with a mighty shout, the visions Vortigern had seen became clearer to them both, and they came to understand what the dragon had meant.

When the visions ended and their eyes returned to normal, they both collapsed onto the ground, both breathing heavily, neither knowing what to do with what they had just learned. Quietly, Vortigern brought his own hands up to the sun and stared at them, and for a moment, he could swear that he saw scales and claws instead.

…

…

The guards escorted him courteously and kindly, as per his request. Even if he'd given the crown to Uther, he was still royalty after all. Soon, he found himself walking inside the castle once again, and a familiar face was there to greet him. "Brother!" Uther grinned as he gave Vortigern a hug, the elder Pendragon reciprocating the gesture. "It's been too long. How have you been?"

Vortigern chuckled, "Better than before actually. How's Igraine and Morgan?" The 2 brothers spent some time wondering through the castle while Uther told him how things had been going in Camelot. Igraine was doing well, having taken Morgan on a small trip to Cornwall and show their daughter her old family home. Uther had wanted to go with them, but certain problems kept him stuck in Camelot. Personally, Vortigern didn't mind that his niece wasn't here. She was too young to remember him, but he was certain his appearance would frighten her.

"I tell you, it's hard on all of us. There's hardly much time for me to spend with Igraine and Morgan. One time a few months ago Morgan literally ran away to force me to follow her, so that I'd spend more time with her. I wish I could say that I was angry, but I wasn't." The 2 brothers found themselves sitting in the field as Uther spoke, "All I want is more time with her, but even when I have that time, all I can think of is whether there's some new traitor, lord, or Saxon planning our downfall, and so I never manage to enjoy it." He shook his head, "I know I shouldn't be worried about her. Morgan can learn magic, and Merlin has promised to teach her, and yet," Uther shook his head, "I can't shake the feeling that something is coming, and I'm not going to be strong enough when it comes."

Vortigern nodded, "I understand Uther, I feel much the same way. That's part of the reason I came here Uther." Uther stared at his brother, "I've learned something, a secret that may change everything for us and the entire world, and for the last month I've dwelled on it in solitude, not knowing whether to tell anyone, act on it, or forget it and ensure nobody learns of it."

Uther blinked, "What have you learned?"

Vortigern took a deep breath before exhaling, "The secret behind our powers, and the legacy of the Pendragons." He stared at the field, but his mind visualized the cave. "The dark powers that flow within us, the energy and might that we wield. It is a sign that we are the chosen. That we are chosen by Britain itself to wield her ancient powers." He stared up at the sky above, "But it was not always that way for us Uther. At one time, the Pendragon bloodline was like any other ordinary human family, in fact, it wasn't even known as 'Pendragon' back then. That name, that title, was granted to us by the one that gave us these gifts. The White Dragon, Albion."

Uther's eyes widened, "Albion… gave us these gifts?" He asked with disbelief.

Vortigern nodded, it was long, long ago, back when the forces of much older magic still held dominion over Britain, and humans struggled to simply survive. In those days, Albion was the guardian of Britain, the embodiment and will of the land itself, a power in which all other magical beings of Britain bowed to and obeyed. And it was for good reason, for Albion could very well be compared to a god in terms of its actual power." He then turned to Uther, "Do you remember our battles with Albion in the past?"

Uther scoffed, "How could I forget, that beast incinerated more men than we could count, and I almost lost you to it."

"Well, that 'dragon' was not Albion at all." Vortigern then explained what Rowena had told him, his experience in the cave, and how Rowena and himself had glimpsed what the dragon had shown him. "The real Albion has remained below the surface this entire time, and has never left, if it had, its very presence and strength would likely flatten all of Britain, no, the entire world itself!" Vortigern declared.

Uther was astonished, "But if that is so, then how does it connect to us? How do our powers come from Albion?"

His brother gazed forward, his mind returning to the visions as he spoke, "During that time, a human woman approached the dragon, asking it for strength and protection." He closed her eyes, her husband had recently been murdered, her people were dying, and she was pregnant with children. Alone, lost in the wonderland of Britain that for her had been hell, she knew not whom she could trust. So, she took a gamble, and traversed the land in search for the being to which all others bowed to and asked for strength. She cared not for conquering, or revenge, only the power to protect what she had left and ensure her legacy was safe." He chuckled, "Fortunately, Albion was as benevolent as he was untamed, and agreed. He imbued her and those in her womb with a portion of its power, choosing to connect them with the will of Britain itself. On that day, he turned her and her offspring into something beyond human, and thus, the 'Pendragon' lineage was born."

Uther was shocked, "So, our powers, are granted to us by the Albion itself. Well, I suppose that may explain how we've survived for so long. Mother always did tell us that ancient magic flowed through our veins. It isn't that surprising, now that you say it."

Vortigern grimaced, "True, but what we possess now is a mere fragment of what the original Pendragons possessed. For they did not just inherit power from the White Dragon, they also gained the power to transform into dragons themselves!" He saw Uther's disbelieving face and growled, "I am not lying to you Uther, I saw it with my own eyes! This woman, our ancestor, and her children, had the power to transform into dragons, and with that power, they defended their people! Those that served them lived under the protection of the Pendragons, guarded by those that had inherited the will of Britain. Before them, few chose to stand in their way!" The elder Pendragon then shook his head, "Unfortunately, their descendants slowly lost that ability as our bloodline diluted, and even worse, they incurred the wrath of other dragons that were alive at the time."

Uther was confused, "What did they do to anger other dragons?"

Vortigern growled, "When Albion gave our ancestors their gifts, he broke a taboo law placed on him and other dragons, he was not meant to share the essence of Britain itself with a lower creature. Incensed over mere humans elevating to their level, they struck at the Pendragons, and while they failed to kill us all, they killed more than a few and greatly wounded Albion, preventing him from returning to Avalon, where dragons now reside." He shook his head, "As magic has slowly been fading away from the land, and since he had no way to depart, Albion lost hope, burying himself under the ground as he tried to heal. He has never left since."

Uther stared at the ground sadly, "A sad tale, few beings go out of their way to help us humans. To know that one who played such a vital role in our creation suffered so is upsetting. However, what does Albion do now?" He looked to Vortigern, "Has he recovered? Will he ever try to go back to Avalon?"

Vortigern shrugged, "I've not the faintest clue, and I honestly doubt it. He has all but given up, now he seems to do nothing more than brood below the surface. But that what is important." He said, standing up as he spoke, "What's important is that I now know of how we can regain our bloodline's diminished power. The power to become a dragon!" He declared.

"W-What?" Uther questioned, now somewhat apprehensive about his brother's train of thought as Vortigern continued.

"It is an ancient spell, of an ancient language not known to humans, yet perhaps because of my Pendragon heritage, I understand it, and you may understand it as well. But words are the easy part, the real struggle would have been the rest." Vortigern took a deep breath as he explained, "To regain the power of a dragon, we must devour Albion's heart. Through this, we must absorb the powers and abilities of Albion into ourselves." Uther stared at him in disbelief as he went on. "The spell calls upon the power and will of the one who wishes to ascend and tests them, pushing them to their very limits. For most, this would be impossible, yet because we still possess at least a portion of the gift Albion bestowed upon our ancestors, it is possible. Should we be successful, then we will become the new Avatars of Britain, the embodiment of the island's ancient magic that still courses through it, even if it is unseen by humans." He turned to Uther, "That is the truth of our powers, and what lies beyond them. A path to the power of dragons, and beyond that, godhood."

Uther stared at him for a few moments before shaking his head, "O-Okay, that is very interesting to learn, brother. However, what is the point in us knowing that? Our situation has not changed in the slightest." He saw Vortigern groan, and he gulped, "Are you actually…"

"Don't play ignorant Uther, I tell you this because this may be the solution we have been searching for." When he saw Uther's eyes widen, he scoffed, "Please don't act like you don't see the potential. You just told me of the fears and terrors that grip your mind, even when you wish for rest, and you are right to have them. Man will continue waging war, even though the Saxons of Dinas Emrys are loyal to me, there are likely plenty that still want to take our lands, and that's just the Saxons. Countless enemies exist beyond Britain, the likes of which we have never confronted before, and may have no idea how to. Not to mention enemies that live in our own kingdoms, the peasants, and the nobility alike. Who knows when and where the next traitor will appear. If it happened to our parents, it will most certainly happen to us!"

Uther was silent as Vortigern stared at him, dead serious, "It's inevitable that someone will betray us, times of peace will end of breeding the lazy, slothful, and the corrupt, who will lead Britain back into war. Eventually, men grow old and feeble, unable to do anything to stop the end of all that they've built, and the world will have to start over. That is the fate for all men, but it need not be our fate." He unsheathed his black sword and stared at it. 'Daemon Britain' was its name, granted by those who had seen him wield it in battle. Aurelius Ambrosius had been the King of Britain once and a beloved king at that. After his death, and Vortigern's eventual rise to become a warlord to avenge him and his mother Iona Pendragon, he'd been referred to as a daemon of revenge, one that had come to rid Britain of those wrongful parasites and rule the land himself. As such, the blade had taken its name after that. "If we become the new dragons, the embodiments of Britain, no one would be able to stop us. We'd be too powerful to defeat, to omnipotent to even think of betraying. The land can be cleansed of such parasites, and we may reign a peace not only for today, but for all eternity!"

Uther stared at him and asked, "Brother, are you alright? Or is this some sort of joke you came up with while traveling to Camelot?" When Vortigern didn't respond, Uther placed a hand on his forehead and shook his head, "Let me understand this correctly. You want us to risk our very lives, our humanity, and the future of our reign on some slim chance that we can become dragons?"

"I know that it's risky and the transformation will likely be very difficult, but it is feasible. Together brother, we have a chance to ascend beyond what we are, and ensure we last forever." Vortigern repeated.

"Yes, I heard you the 1st time!" Uther replied, "But listen to yourself, you want us to sacrifice our humanity, despite the vow we made to make Britain a safe place for humans, and you want to do so by slaying a dragon that's responsible for us even existing in the 1st place?!"

"What is so wrong about that, we've killed giants and ogres before, what difference does a dragon make? It's no different than killing a deer or a chicken for food." Vortigern argued.

"Yes, there is a great difference!" Uther argued back, "We hunt and kill animals for food and clothing out of necessity, not simple ambition. And even disregarding that, you're suggesting killing a creature that willingly aided our ancestors out of benevolence, and then suffered for its goodness? You want us to repay Albion with murder? Have you gone mad?!"

"It isn't murder if he wishes for death. As I said, Albion has given up all hope of returning to Avalon. He'd be hardly against us putting him out of his misery. It would be a merciful end to his sad tale." Vortigern continued, Uther gritting his teeth, "Or do you want to wait for death to come to us 1st?"

Uther shook his head, "I'm not waiting for death so much as I am not rushing towards it. Besides, have you not spoken to anyone else on this? We should talk to Merlin 1st so that we know such a thing is feasible, if necessary."

Vortigern growled, "What is it with you and deferring to that wizard, Uther? Every single time you find yourself at a crossroad that troubles you, you always let Merlin make the decision for you. Our father listened to others at times, yes, but he always followed his own will and ideals before all else, that is why many respected him. People will inevitably see you as weak if you continue following the wizard's advice. A strong king need not defer to others to find the right path, he carves his own with his 2 hands, and leads by his own example, not anyone else's!"

"I suppose that's why the Saxons of Dinas Emrys have come to respect you, isn't it, Vortigern?" A friendly voice spoke, causing them to turn to its source. "It has been a while, so glad that I could speak to you again. I've meant to for some time, yet I keep getting sidetracked, unfortunately." Merlin laughed in an embarrassed manner as he scratched him, his white clothing billowing in the sudden wind.

Vortigern rolled his eyes, "No doubt because of the latest whore you've charmed." He sheathed his sword, yet kept his hand on it, "So, what brings you here, Merlin?"

"What, I'm taking a small break from training Vivian. Can't a wizard simply travel to meet his 2 good friends? And from the sound of things, it seems I came at the right time." He jested, "So Vortigern, I can tell you've had a few questions for me. If you want, I'd be happy to answer."

He sighed, "Very well, I suppose I can start by asking you whether or not you knew the truth about the Pendragon's heritage, and the ritual needed for us to become the next Avatar of Britain?"

Merlin's smile was strained for a moment, and he sighed, "Well, I suppose it was bound to come up eventually. Yes, I knew about it." He admitted, "I believed it safer for you both not to know. There's too much danger in that path, it would be best avoided."

"How is it safer for us to not know the truth about how I managed to survive dragon fire, and why my eyes now glow gold?" Vortigern pressed on, closing distance with Merlin, "If there is danger for us that I am not yet aware of, then, explain. I would not like to be left in the dark."

Merlin sighed, "The risk such a transformation would have on your minds alone is difficult enough. In gaining such enormous perspective and power like that of the Avatar of Britain, you may very well lose your mind in the attempt, and even if you did not, that would not stop the greater danger."

"What greater danger?!" Uther asked, listening intently to Merlin's words, much to Vortigern's consternation.

"The age of Albion was the days of ancient magic, magic that has been fading away from the land since, hence why the other dragons and fae themselves left Britain. If a new Avatar of Britain was born, a new dragon of the land, the reintroduction of such magical power would uproot the balance of humans across the British Isles, it could lead to a new age of ancient magic, one far less hospitable for humanity." Merlin explained.

"So, what does it matter, humanity survived during that old age of magic, and it can survive this one if it so desires. The fact that the birth of a new dragon could destabilize them so is nothing more than a sign of weakness and complacency. A strong kingdom that allows itself to atrophy and grow slothful has only itself to blame for allowing its enemies to cut them down. Excuses do nothing but validate one's delusions. In this world, you must always to ready for when the next foe arises, no matter where they come from." Vortigern replied.

Merlin nodded, "Wise words Vortigern, I suppose your parents would have loved to hear them, if they were still around." In a flash, he created a magical barrier to protect himself as Vortigern brought his sword bearing down on him. As Vortigern roared and continued his assault, Merlin managed to send him flying back with a blast of magic, the warrior just managing to plant his sword in the ground to keep from slamming his back into the dirt. As Uther went to help his brother, Merlin noted, "I suppose that would be the reaction of anyone who lost their loved ones because of your aspirations of power."

Vortigern looked at Merlin and growled, "I suppose having humanity as sheep is good for you Merlin. Makes it easy for you to herd us however you want." Merlin said nothing back to him.

Later, when Merlin had left, Uther still tried to convince his brother to listen, "We don't need to become dragons, brother. We're already growing stronger as it is. I know you worry for the future and see the worst ahead of us; I understand that. But please, is sacrificing our humanity truly the way to do so, is it what our ancestors want for us? Our family?" His mind seemed to trail off somewhere before returning to the present, "Please brother, there must be another path."

Vortigern sighed, "I won't do it without you brother. If you will not do so, then I will hold my blade for now." He stared at the sky, "But ideals and hope alone won't ensure peace, they won't ensure safety. A battle is always ahead of us, it's just a matter of when."

…

…

Vortigern kept his word in the months to follow, he refused to usurp Albion. Instead, he continued managing his territory and bringing down Saxon invaders who sought to take his citadel, before assimilating the survivors as part of his own. He was an anomaly, one of the greatest defenders of the British Isles, yet his territory was now mainly that of Saxons. Regardless, he remained a ruler none of the people conspired against, both for his strength and because of his wife.

He always ate with Rowena and had her check his food and drink with magic to see if they'd been poisoned. When she'd ask him at times of whether he feared that she would poison or kill him, he flat out admitted that she was one of the few he fully trusted, leaving her red while cuddling with him, more for his sake than hers. Safe to say, Rowena's growing pregnancy left Vortigern more than a bit anxious, something that inevitably slipped during the worst of it. During the last few weeks of it, she'd remained mostly bedridden, taking only small walks through the halls with Vortigern to accompany her. He left the bed to her, choosing to sleep at her side sitting on a chair, his sword in hand as he watched the only door for any intruders that would arrive.

"You worry too much." She'd tell him more than once, "No one will harm either of us." Her belly had grown even larger than Sevira had, and that worried Vortigern even more. Then came the day he heard her cry out, sending fear throughout his spine. Was something wrong with her, had something terrible happened?!

Well, if you count childbirth terrible, then yes, and as Vortigern had already lost one wife thanks to it, part of him indeed did. He felt like he was aging by years as it happened, holding his wife's hand while she cried out, each contraction bringing more pain. Vortigern felt he would pass out from his fearful mind. Sevira… Rowena… he couldn't lose another wife again!

When it was finally done, Rowena fell silent and went to sleep, the pain subsiding as her husband made sure she would rest carefully. The next day, she would wake up and find that she'd given birth to triplets. No wonder it had hurt so much, most women die from something like that. As she held them in her arms, she smiled at Vortigern, "A blessing from the gods, that's what they are." She told him as she snuggled them affectionately, "For a long line to follow after us!"

Vortigern chuckled, "Indeed." He noted as he patted each of their heads… a long line, his line…

…

…

"Tension is only growing." Brea, one of his attendants told him. "Those outside of Dinas Emrys regard us with disdain and suspicion, and it is only increasing with time. The neighboring land of Orkney regards us with scorn, and you are the only one keeping King Lot from bringing his forces to bear on the land." Because of their pact, after all, Lot and his brothers had been allies with the Pendragons for many years, owing to their shared goals of retaking their lost kingdom and revenge. "Not just them, but traders and merchants for other parts of Britain as well." The 2 walked along the wall as she turned to him, "We may have rejoiced following the births of your sons, but many are growing restless now." She looked away, "May I speak honestly?"

"When do I ever ask you to do otherwise?" Vortigern joked, and she smirked, "Please, go on."

"We are outsiders. All of us are." She said plainly, "Right now, you are the only preventing Dinas Emrys from being raided by hostile Britannians. Your allies respect you, while others who'd disapprove fear you, and your alliance with your brother helps maintain the peace, but that won't last." Looking to him, she stated, "Your sons have a claim on the throne of Camelot, and while you may have given the throne to Uther, there will undoubtedly be those who will see them as threats to Uther's own legacy."

"Because they'll be seen as having been raised amongst Saxons to invade Camelot." Vortigern noted, "Or because they may end up tempted to fight beside the Saxons they've grown up with. After Uther and I grow too feeble to maintain the peace and pass on, conflict will break out."

They both sat down as Brea looked at him, "Something must be done as soon as possible, for their sake as well as yours. I would personally suggest arranging a marriage between your eldest and Uther's daughter when he reaches age. A union could guarantee further peace for Dinas Emrys."

"That's a temporary solution, and even then, it may not succeed. Not for long." Vortigern noted, "Besides, even in the best outcome for that method, it would just leave them as further pawns for the wizard." Time had been eroding his trust towards the wizard, and the idea of his children being left at anyone's mercy, including Merlin's, made his blood boil.

Arranged marriage and sleight of hand political plays wouldn't solve the inevitable growing weaknesses of the land or prevent the past from repeating itself. Even with the alliances he and Uther made to keep order in Britain and ensure the kingdoms were at peace with one another, they hadn't reached everywhere, and it was still a tenuous alliance at best. All it would take is one arrogant or ambitious fool to tear things apart, and the demise of what they had built would begin again. The immaterial and complex power of politics wasn't enough, all it would do is convince people to keep playing the game to their own advantage and ignore the bigger picture as they did so. What they needed was something tangible, something that visualized the fear, terror, and consequences of chaos and betrayal right into the hearts of all that would oppose them, something that would maintain the peace by force without the thin framework of these alliances to hold it together…

"I need to speak to Uther once more… I must convince him…" He said somberly.

…

…

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS ABOUT THIS, BROTHER!" Uther shouted as they stood alone in his throne room, in the castle that Vortigern could have kept, before the throne he gave to his brother, "You cannot seriously be willing to sacrifice not only your own humanity, along with your brethren's out of sheer paranoia!"

"It isn't paranoia, it is fact, and our ancestors were able to manage the change, and passed that potential onto us, the potential to wield the might of Britain, to embody the magic of the land itself!" Vortigern replied. "We can sit around playing diplomacy and forging pacts with those that will abandon us the moment it becomes convenient, or we can ensure the safety of our family for millennia."

Uther placed a hand on his forehead, "W-Why, why don't you have any faith in anyone, brother? Do you think we could've retaken Camelot on our own? The only reason we've come this far is because of the help we've received from others. From Merlin, Lot, Ector, and so many others. We aren't alone in this world, there are people who stay with us for more than just to coast off our strength, and our bonds can transcend us, and follow those that come after us, helping them keep things together, and build something even greater! Remember what our father said, how a kingdom is made of many people, not just its King! The same is true for all of us and Britain. It will take all of us to ensure that Britain remains peaceful, not just the might of a few!"

"Yes, it takes many people to build something tall, but only a few to break it." Vortigern replied, "You forget that the people who betrayed our father, who killed both him and our mother only managed so because he considered them to be his 'friends.' Not all bonds last, all it takes is something more enticing to give them more power, and they'll gladly turn on those who trust them. What's to stop the descendants of our allies from fighting ours? Will our children face the fates of our parents, will they face the lives we faced?!"

Vortigern glared on Uther, "Have you forgotten the sleepless nights of terror, the days and weeks spent after our lives were uprooted? The consequences that we're still paying for even now?!" He then muttered quietly, "Do you want that life for them?"

Uther then grew curious, "Brother, do you have children?" His suspicions were confirmed when Vortigern looked away, "No wonder you've been so distant, why have you been keeping this a secret?!" He approached his brother, "W-When… how long? Who is your wife?!" When he noticed his brother remain silent, he grew a bit sad, "She's a Saxon isn't she…" Vortigern grumbled under his breath and Uther lowered his head, "Don't worry brother, I'm not afraid of any schemes. I know you'd never have wedded had you suspected anything, but why didn't you…"

"I won't risk it." Vortigern said, his mind elsewhere, "Our lives, our parents' lives, they won't be their lives!" He shook his head, "You may think it a betrayal, you may see it as monstrous, but it's necessary Uther. Those who will not manage to survive will die, as all things do. Such needed changes will bring about death, that cannot be avoided. For the everlasting peace that our father desired. For a united Britain that our children can live in without fear."

Uther looked at his brother sadly, "I don't think father envisioned what you're planning when he dreamed of peace… and we both know that mother did not want…"

"Mother also did not want to be slain in her own castle by those she and her husband trusted. Much has happened that neither of them wanted, and sadly, we've both already gone against their wishes for us more than once." Vortigern replied. He then turned to Uther, and spoke with a tone of finality, "In 1 month, I will slay Albion, and enact the ritual needed to become the new Avatar of Britain. Whether you wish to join or stop me, meet me then."

Turning around, he walked to leave, about to open the door when, "Brother!" He turned around to look at Uther, who had a sad, yet resigned look on his face, "I don't know what will happen, but no matter what, know that I love you."

Vortigern gave an honest smile, "And I love you as well, Uther. You, Igraine, Ector, Lot… without all of you, I'd never have survived back then. But now, I have others I love that need me, just as you do." They both stayed silent before Vortigern said, "Whatever your conviction is Uther, stand by it, and let no one crush it, not Merlin, and not me." With that he opened the chamber doors and left, the last time he'd ever see Camelot again.

…

…

A month passed and Uther did arrive… along with Lot and an army. Vortigern had expected this, he knew that outsiders disapproved of the large numbers of Saxons serving under him. It made sense, his brother knew that when Vortigern had his mind set on something, nothing would make him leave his goal but force. Uther likely whipped up a story of his brother's growing treachery, playing on those prejudices to get his allies to aid him, besides, if he defeated his brother, the younger Pendragon knew the Saxons would not simply fall in line. Force would be needed to capture Dinas Emrys from Vortigern.

He felt slightly hurt, but he didn't blame his brother, and as they faced each other on the battlefield, the 2 could see it in the other's eyes that neither wanted this, but their goals were too important, they saw no other way. It was a tense fight, Vortigern dragging the opposing forces far away until they found themselves battling over a cliff. Bloodied and battered, he looked at his brother and Lot, both wounded as well, yet still ready to fight. He could defeat either of them, but not at once. Giving them both a nod to congratulate them on their victory, Vortigern leaped over the age, plummeting into the raging rapids below…

A close brush with death, if not for the power raging within him, he'd surely have died. There was no chance of recapturing Dinas Emrys right now, he'd have to wait. He'd bide his time until his chance arrived. For now, he had to meet his wife and sons. It was a good thing that he had them sent away, having predicted this outcome in advance…

…

…

"He managed to find us in Denmark before we settled in Norway for a bit." Vortimer explained as he wrapped up his parents' story. Malphas and the rest of the group listened as they all rode on horseback, travelling alongside Tiberius's army. "After he recovered, he trained my brothers and I in the ways of the sword while mother showed us magic. We learned over the years as our own community of Saxons was forged. Father intended to lead us into Britain, and he believed he found a chance 10 years ago, when the witches predicted Uther's approaching death, and the coming instability in Britain left Dinas Emrys open to recapture, and he took it. Mother told him it was too early, but he was insistent." He then looked to Morgan, "I'm sure you can finish my father's story, can't you cousin?"

Morgan nodded, "I kept him from reaching Albion long enough for Artoria to kill him in honorable combat, and Albion was spared." She stared at him, "If you're expecting an apology, then you're a fool. Vortigern's plans were madness to my father and what he preached to me was further madness, he had to be stopped." The older Pendragon then looked away, "Even so, I could see traces of a once compassionate, if warlike, man, and he seemed to hold no hatred to my father. He even wanted Artoria and myself to join him, so I guess there was some care buried in him."

Vortimer shrugged, "To be honest, he was in a real rush to come to Britain after he heard his brother was gone. I think part of him may have been desperate to join him. He never hated him, and I don't think Uther hated him back." He gently brushed the head of the steed Tiberius had loaned him, "I'm not really after revenge, if that's what you may be wondering. I simply wish to pay tribute to my father, and finish what he started."

Morgan's eyes narrowed at her cousin, "Did you not here me cousin? Your father's plan was madness, so why finish it?!"

"Is it really madness in this world?" He turned his head back to look not only at her, but the rest of the party, "Is it madness in a world, already cutthroat as it is, now besieged by terrifying amalgamations of creature. Hybrid beast of lion, goat, and snake. Birds with a lion's lower half, and wolves with batlike wings." The man then stopped as the rest of them stared at him with confusion, "Huh, I take it you haven't met those yet. Well, now you know in advance." Vortimer then laughed, "Still, the ability to become a dragon would be very useful in protecting ourselves from this growing curse soon to swallow all of Europe. Britain is already hovering above the seas; its land dying and being sapped of energy. How long before the rest follow? Or at least, that's what we feared."

Malphas stared at his uncle, "So then, what did you come here to do? What is your plan?"

Vortimer laughed, "Isn't its obvious nephew, we need to find Albion and claim his power." He twirled his grail in hand as he spoke, "A few years ago, my mother received a premonition from the gods. They told her that Uther's bloodline was going to destroy itself, leaving the path to Albion clear for us to take, so all we had to do was wait until you finished each other off."

The man was oblivious to the clearly upset Morgan who was now clenching her arm and lowering her head, trying to push back the bad memories that could have been, and in a sense, still were. "However, something happened not too long ago, something mother and the other mystics described as if the whole world had been uprooted, then spun and twisted in so many ways it was impossible to know where it would end." He then grimaced, "Then she sensed something worse, the end of the world." The group stared at him with apprehension while Morgan eyed him suspiciously, "she said that she had foreseen the whole world as we know it reduced to nothing, utterly void. No life, no space, nothing. As though it had never been there in the 1st place."

He shook as he recalled the look of utter horror and terror that had gripped his mother, the other mystics had to watch over her as she laid in bed for days after that, trying to help ease the pain her mind had been suffering. The rest stayed quiet, a few looking to one another as they pondered his words, King Sadoine of Cameliard and Queen Julia of Lahia both eyeing Morgan Le Fay, who remained quiet as she watched her cousin pause, taking a moment to collect himself.

Malphas broke the silence, "It's because of 'King Arthur.' Or Artoria… my aunt. All of this is her doing." John rose his head as he stared at his brother, before looking up to his mother, who was holding him as they rode. Sadoine was about to interject, but Gwenhwyfach threw a tiny fireball in his direction as a warning, glaring at him as she did so. "She's trying to change the course of time to prevent Camelot's demise, and is trying to merge Britain wit-"

"You don't have to tell me nephew. I know all about my younger cousin's plans and her dealings with the fae." Vortimer interjected. "I had a run in with a few not too long after I reached Britain. They killed my ride, so I killed them. Before I did though, I pulled everything I needed to know from one of them." He turned his head back and flashed them all a smile, "Trust when I say, I know everything that is going on, and what is at stake for all of us. In fact, I probably know more than most of you." They stared at him apprehensively while Morgan's hands clenched, her horse growing uneasy as it sensed her inner conflict. Exactly how much did he know? What was he about to give away? Should she try to seal his memories, leave him be… give up on this painful façade… Her eyes fixed themselves on her cousin's and they locked in on one another.

Vortimer smiled and laughed, "Indeed, with the Seyfert nigh destroyed, linking it to Avalon was a last resort plan that seems to have saved our foes, although its caused us nothing but problems. As the Seyfert absorbs power from Avalon, monsters slip through the crack, and once the merge begins, nowhere will be safe. 1st it will be Britain, and the Seyfert's roots will dig into the rest of the world and drag everyone into Avalon. I doubt humanity will survive. I suppose the faeries will help on that front. A very risky move, and unfortunately, my mother sensed that this change would all be for nothing."

His face then became serious as he turned his head to Malphas and the rest, "Fortunately, she was also able to sense glimmer of hope, a chance to save the world, and once she told me, I set off on a gryphon we had used magic to tame and returned to the country of my birth. My brothers Catigern and Pascent wanted to come with me, but they had to stay behind to protect the rest of our people. This was something I had to do on our own, to save this world whose existence hangs by a thread." They all looked at him with surprise, as did Morgan. Did he really know how to save the world from this supposed fate of void?

Malphas stared at his uncle curiously, "But I thought that you were after White Dragon? How is that supposed to help the world? Why exactly were you searching for Lady Morgan and I? What are we supposed to do?" He watched as Vortimer's eyes settled on him, "Do not misunderstand. We stand by you in your quest to save the world, but why come to us?"

Vortimer smiled at his young relative, "Because I needed to find our savior."

…

…

Ugh… another morning, another training session, another day of having to spar with Gawain until he passed out or his father pounded him into the ground… another day of in the life of Agravaine. Well, at least he felt he had lasted a bit longer than last time, not as though his father ever encouraged him. Fighting only had 2 results, win and live, or fail and die. Whether or not you fought well as you died mattered little on the battlefield, as such, it mattered little to Lot. The man only spoke to his sons of what needed to be improved on, and for Agravaine, that was a lot, for he was hopeless.

Gawain had struggled under their father much the same, but he was always able to rise out of it much more gracefully. Though kind to him, he did not hold back when sparring with Agravaine, just as their father desired. Agravaine didn't hold it against his brother, though no one ever enjoyed getting thrashed. Meanwhile, Gaheris may have been younger and weaker, but he was quick, having just started taking to longer wooden weapons to keep a distance between himself and his brothers. Agravaine had neither the luxury of strength or speed, the best he'd always been able to do was take the punishment and find an opening to strike back, and that didn't always work.

Agravaine groaned as he fell upon his bed, his right arm sore from his father slamming it with the blunt end of his spar sword, and his head was throbbing from hitting the ground. He felt somewhat nauseous, and now it just got worse. He cursed under his breath. God, why was he so bad at everything? When would he finally prove himself good at… something?!

"Agravaine, are you okay?" His head turned as he saw her at his door, her dark hair nearly reaching her lower back. "Gawain told me you all finished training. Do you need mother to check on you?" He immediately tried to smile as he sat up, not wanting to worry her. Unfortunately, he failed even at that, cringing in pain as his head whirled. She ran to his side in an instant, "Easy there, no need to push yourself. Just breathe right now." Giving him a reassuring smile as she held him, she spoke gently, "I'll go get mother so she can heal you. Sorry for not being there, I had to help her with the cooking." Averting her eyes for a moment out of shame, she then smiled, "But Gawain told me good news. You've gotten even better with your sword. You're doing well!"

"I-I am?" Agravaine questioned, not believing her, "I couldn't tell." He then shook his head, "It doesn't matter anyway." She stared at him concerned as he went on, "No matter what, I'll never be able to be as good as Gawain or improve fast enough. In an actual fight, I'd be worthless. Even Gaheris is going to end up surpassing me."

"Nonsense!" She argued, "You train just as hard as our brothers, and you pay attention just as diligently to father when he teaches you!" Shaking her head, she stated, "They've just simply found their preferred way to fight that aligns with their strengths -"

"Yeah, meanwhile I'm left with no strengths at all!" He shouted, "It doesn't matter how hard I try; I'll never be good enough!" Gritting his teeth while his head hurt, he hung his head, "I-In the end, I'll just be burden… a-a burden that'll drag them with me to death on the battlefield…" He stopped as he noticed that he was starting to tear up, oh God, was he going to get any more pathetic?!

She didn't care at all as she held him closer, "That won't happen Agravaine, it won't. It will never happen." Scowling, she took a deep breath as she calmed herself, "Father is simply afraid, that is all. Remember, he was forced to fight for both his life and his own brothers when he was younger than you." How could he forget, he'd only heard that story a few dozen time, they all had. "So, he just wants you to be ready, ready to face the danger and peril he went through." She then shook her head, "But even so, he pushes you, all of you, too hard. He's so caught up in his fears, he forgets that they haven't happened at all, and won't happen, ever." A rare moment of anger mixed with exasperation crossed her face, "I'll speak to him later today, don't worry."

"Y-You will?!" Agravaine looked at her, shocked, "A-Are you sure?"

"Why not? What is he going to do to me?" Well, he could do a lot, he was King Lot. There wasn't a person in the kingdom that didn't fear their father, even their mother did, though she tried to hide it. But then again, she was the exception in so many ways. "I'll just remind him that he's supposed to be training you, not breaking you." Smiling, she poked his cheek, "Now listen to me, you're going to be a great knight Agravaine. You, Gawain, Gaheris, you're all well on your way. Maybe you don't see it right now, but one day, you will. I know it." She wiped his tears, "So don't look down on yourself, my dear brother."

He smiled, "Thanks Teneu." Pausing for a moment as she smiled, "T-Teneu?" He looked to her curiously, "W-We're not going to get separated, right?" She stared at him as he went on, "W-We'll, we'll always be together, won't we?" Part of him felt pathetic for asking that, but even so, one of his biggest fears was the idea that he would lose all of them, especially her.

She sighed playfully before nuzzling him affectionately, "Of course Agravaine, you don't even need to ask that." Teneu smiled gently, "Doesn't matter if you're a boy or a knight, you're always going to be my little brother!"

As the 2 laughed, another figure watched them for a moment, only speaking when they quieted, "May I come in?" Their mother asked as she gave them a warm smile, "I just finished mending Gawain's injuries, and a servant said they saw you coming here Agravaine. Do you need anything?" He nodded and she sat beside him, Teneu helping their mother inspect his injuries before mother used her magic to heal him…

…

…

"Teneu…" Agravaine groaned as his eyes slowly opened, feeling something annoying the inside of his nose, causing him to reach out and grab at whatever it was. The tree branch snapped in his hands, and he tossed it away, glaring as he saw the young Kentigern and his brother standing over him, Gaheris having a smirk on his face while the young saint was very nervous as Agravaine glowered at them.

"I-I am sorry! Sir Gaheris stated that it was the best way to wake you!" Kentigern panicked.

Gaheris merely laughed, "And it worked, didn't it!" He patted Kentigern's head before giving his brother a hand, "Welcome back to the living brother. Surprisingly, none of us have died." He then summarized the events that occurred yesterday while Agravaine was unconscious. Once he was done, Agravaine couldn't help but sigh in relief, they really had been only a breath away from death. Yet, what had stopped the dragon?

Gaheris shrugged, "Anyway, Percival and Bors went to see if they could find anything for us to eat while we wait for King Oberon to give up on the dragon coming back. Would've gone with them, but I had to keep guard over you until you woke up in case the beast really did come back."

"Yes, you did say that." A female voice said as the lady walked towards them with Gaheris's spear in hand, "Yet all you did was try to find some way to annoy your brother while he was still asleep, starting with this." Thamates groaned as she handed Gaheris back his weapon before shaking her head, "I swear, it's as if you still haven't aged past 8 years."

Gaheris merely shrugged as he gave his weapon a twirl and grinned, "It matters not. Regardless, King Oberon has also been having Lucrecia help him bury things into the ground. Tried asking what, but they ignored me, so I been getting bored." He then yawned before turning to his brother. "Anyway, Agravaine, I say we hurry and follow-" the knight stopped as he saw his brother staring at Thamates, who was remaining quiet. Her face really was identical to their mother's… and her hair… it must have been the heat of the sun that had made her take off the cloak and cloth covering it, but now that it finally had room to breathe… now that he could see it… it was dark… just as dark as…

"Gaugh!" Agravaine was brought out of his stupor by Gaheris smacking his brother's head with the blunt end of his spear, "What was that about?!"

"You were slipping off somewhere else, now come on. Let's go find Bors and Percival. Who knows, maybe if the dragon does come back and Oberon kills it, we'll be able to eat dragon meat." He pulled his older brother away from the holy woman and her son, Agravaine turning back to look at her once more before turning his head forward and walking side by side with his brother. Neither could see the young Kentigern look up to his mother with a worried face, or the woman stare at both brothers sadly before turning herself, pulling her hood up to cover her hair.

…

"You sure you're alright, brother?" Gaheris asked as they ventured further into the broken, beaten, and dying woods. The dragon had done a number on it, and the Seyfert was likely absorbing their remaining strength. "You looked as though you had witnessed some manner of unholy horror. A memory of the dragon, perhaps?"

Agravaine had a cold scowl on his face, "No, to be honest, I can't even remember it attacking me." He unsheathed his sword and sliced through a falling tree branch from a dying tree. "Trust me, I am well enough to come with you."

Gaheris shrugged as he poked and prodded the ground with his spear, "If you insist." They kept going for a short while before Gaheris grew annoyed, "Just where in Avalon are they?!" The 2 spent another few minutes looking around for their hunting comrades before they heard 1 of them call out to them.

"Sir Agravaine, you're awake!" Percival called out as he ran towards them, crushing the fallen branches underfoot before he reached them, bear hugging his revitalized comrade, Agravaine gritting his teeth as he pulled out of the hug. The white-haired knight simply smiled before looking to Gaheris, seemingly about to do the same thing, but hesitated and stopped himself. "Good to see you both well after yesterday, would be better had we found any meat to bring back."

Agravaine stared at his comrade, "You couldn't find any game."

"Afraid not." Bors interjected as he reached the trio, "It seems that they all vanished after that dragon attacked us yesterday. Probably in hiding should the monster return. In that sense they are smarter than the King of the Fae."

Gaheris couldn't keep himself from laughing, "Well said good Bors. Now let's hurry on back. Oberon's bound to get bored and just fly us to Camelot by now, and I don't want to be left stranded here."

With that, the 4 of them traveled back to where their remaining 2 comrades and the surviving refugees waited for them, the cave fortress gazing at them from the base of the mountain. To their luck, Segwarides had woken up as well, he and Palomides being about to leave to find them had they not arrived sooner. As the 2 brothers spoke to Agravaine and Bors, Percival nudged Gaheris and beckoned for the shorter knight to follow him.

When the 2 stopped by a nearby rock, Gaheris leaned on it with one leg while looking to his comrade, "Well, is something wrong?" He noticed Percival look around nervously, "What happened?" He asked again.

Hanging his head, Percival placed a few black wooden shards into Gaheris's hand, which he recognized as more fragments of his broken mask, "I'm sorry friend, I couldn't find the rest." Percival said glumly with his head hung.

Gaheris looked at his comrade, sighed, dropped the fragments to the ground, and patted his friend's arm, "Forget it. We're alive, right? That itself is a miracle for us all. A mask, even an enchanted one, is a small trade off." Percival grinned with gratitude as Gaheris sighed, trying to hide his own smile, "Come on, let's not waste more time and join the others."

And a good thing they did, for once they rejoined the rest, Oberon was ready to return to Camelot, a now healed Meerthruid Vendru and Lucrecia working together to gather all the survivors together so that they could leave in one go. Gaheris supposed he was glad that Vendru was healed, as far as faerie companions went, he and Lucrecia were not that bad, even pleasant to some extent. Perhaps Queen Titania had personally picked those that would get along with them better, he might ask her once they returned.

Regardless, when they were finally all organized together, the ground beneath them glowing as Oberon completed some enchantment. Lucrecia and Vendru hovered beside their King as he gazed down at them all in a proud manner before declaring, "Prepare yourselves, the time has come for us to return to Camelot. I usually do not do this with this many in one group so," Oberon smirked, "I suggest you hold on to one another. This ride home may be rather… turbulent, I suppose."

With a flick of his wrist, the ground beneath them started shaking, and slowly started to rise. The refugees panicked and tried to flee but were stopped by a magical barrier. As Gaheris and his comrades looked around in terror and anxiety, the ground they were standing on split off from the rest, leaving a large crater in the ground as the patch of land flew at a breakneck pace. Gaheris stabbed his spear into the dirt and grabbed one of the refugees to keep them from falling, his brother and the rest of their comrades digging their feet in as well as they adjusted to their now flying patch of ground.

Percival looked behind them at the retreating image of the mountain and grinned ear to ear, "See, I told it could've worked!" Gaheris followed his friend's gaze and his jaw dropped. He could literally see the air pushing them across the sky, crossing woods and rivers so quickly they blended in with one another. To their left and right, Lucrecia and Vendru were also using bags of wind to carry themselves on their way back, Oberon using his own magical prowess to keep up in terms of speed. "See, we really could have used the sacs of air to get us all home!" Percival exclaimed.

"Wait, speaking of which," Agravaine checked to see if the bag of wind he'd kept at his side was still there, only to find it empty. "That madman, he must have taken them off us while we were asleep!"

"Well, that's odd, why wouldn't he have just asked?!" Palomides shouted back as he wobbled, needing to use his brother for support.

"Because he's insane! Just look!" Gaheris retorted as he stared at the King above, who had his arms crossed as he smiled at his work. "This is essentially a wild day on a horse for him. He's just trying to have the most fun he can!" Even so, he couldn't help but chuckle at the boundless level of reckless creativity and audacity that Oberon seemed to possess at times. It certainly made for one wild ride.

…

…

In other world, another time, a man strutted towards his 'leader' in his black and red attire, using a finger to push up his glasses as he used his other hand to grab the knife at his side. 'It really is a shame Kirschtaria.' He thought to himself, 'I was interested in seeing just how fucked up these worlds we were making could get.' The ruthless being smirked, 'But an immortal utopia… that's just twisted… and no fun at all…' His eyes gleamed as he chuckled, 'Don't worry… I can fix that little error…'

---

In case none of you guessed, which I'm sure you already did, yeah, that was Beryl right at the end. Next chapter should come out in a few weeks, the battle against Aurora is finished, so that just leaves the merge... yeah, should just take me a few weeks. Until then, this has been the Venomous Blade, and I'll see you all later. Thank you :)