A/N: I'm updating again! YAY! Lol…it has been more than a week. Sorry it's so late again. I've had SO many school projects and tennis tryouts as well. Once again thanks for all the reviews and support!

Disclaimer: I only own Mirouaene and her thoughts and feelings. The rest of the stuff belongs to MZB.

Chapter 2: Warning

"Morgaine, what is Avalon like? I have always envisioned it as a large, blooming island, with majestic hills and dense forests, with women in glittering blue robes walking every which way. I do believe that the priestesses there will be much like me, thoughtful and intelligent!" The wind carried the words from my mouth to Morgaine's sharp ear, and whipped my face in cold rushes. I was confident that I would find happiness at last in Avalon, though I could never imagine dwelling in such a land. I was surprisingly not out of breath. Morgaine had told me that we would be further building our endurance by running to Avalon on foot, and that the wind would offer its strength to us if we let it play with our garments and hair.

"Mirouaene, it is astounding how witty you are, for everything you have envisioned is what Avalon is. Our land belongs to the Goddess, maiden, mother, crone, whatever you would like to call her. The earth is precious, for it is the womb of our mother, the creator of the Druidic people. The pride of Avalon lies in the Tor, the sacred hill of life, where much activity and ceremony takes place, including the great Beltane fires. When we arrive, you will first be introduced to my aunt, Viviane, head priestess of Avalon and Lady of the Lake. You must be respectful to her at all times, for she is your elder. You will then spend a night in her cottage, and early the next morning, you will be taken to the House of Maidens for your schooling. There you will meet young girls of all ages who will be much closer to you than those silly maidens of Benwick." She spoke smooth and clear, without a falter of breath. I marveled at her steadiness.

"Beltane, you mentioned the word Beltane." My eyes lit up like sparks when I heard the familiar name. "Lancelot told me that I had been born during Beltane. I have always wanted to know of my heritage. Is there anything you wouldn't mind telling me? Who was my real mother?" My heart thumped inside my rib cage, desperate to break out of its protective cell. I had been searching for this answer during my time in Benwick, and I was hungry for the result.

"My dear that is a question you would have to ask Viviane, for I was probably very young at the time of your birth. I had probably still been living miserably at Uther's court with my mother the queen, or maybe even at Tintagel. How old are you, Mirouaene?"

"Eleven years, almost twelve now." I answered. True, Morgaine was most likely about 10 years older than I. She looked quite young with her petite figure and delicate features, but she was beautiful. Suddenly, I became fearful of her straight face and confident eyes. "Is it possible that Benwick has given me little education? Will the priestesses of Avalon all be much more intelligent than I? I imagine them being like you, elegant of posture, having a clever tongue and innumerable skills. Will I—will I be able to fit in among them? Will they accept a girl who has grown up in a Christian kingdom, among Christian people?"

"First of all, by "Christian people", I believe you are only referring to the other young women at court. True, Lancelot may also become Christian when our generation takes the kingdom, but your other brother, Balan, is not Christian. Your foster-father once followed the Druidic beliefs, for he performed the Great Marriage to the land long ago, which resulted in the birth of many sons including Balan and Lancelot. As for the people of Avalon, yes, you must be aware that they are highly skilled in the arts and indeed quick-witted. However, you have nothing to worry about, for when you are grown, Avalon will have seen nobody of equal intelligence and honor to you. Trust me, though it will take a good deal of patience and getting-used-to on your part, hard work will pay off, as it always does in Avalon. I can see it clearly." Morgaine's solemn face shattered into a relaxed smile, and I giggled, understanding the jest.

"Are we going to come to Avalon soon? I believe we have traveled far. It has been close to two days now, and we have surely slept out in the open more than four times. How much farther do we have to go?"

"My dear, we will be reaching our land soon. We might have to walk a little more than one hour, but that will cause no problems for you, will it my dear?" I smiled and nodded. Morgaine paused. "You might also want to note that you will not be seeing many men on the island. Avalon is a land of priestesses, where women have power, and where you hold pride in being born a woman. Are you not proud of yourself already, Mirouaene?"

"I—I think so..." I stammered helplessly. I had always aimed to achieve the highest, to be noticed, and envied. I silently refused to be proud of myself until I held what Morgaine's Goddess held. I knew that I was planning to achieve the impossible, but I had spoiled myself. I wanted to stand nothing lower than the top, and, though I marveled at Morgaine's skill, how she opened the mists as we crossed the lake into Avalon, I could not help intimidating myself. Avalon, the land of perfection, of faeries who could perform every healing art on the face of the earth. I sighed. I had just been so excited about living in this land, but now as I came upon it, I feared entering the place, for I was scared of depression, of wishing I had never existed, or existed as someone else. If I was defeated, put down by someone else, all would be lost. I would never hold pride for what I was, not in a land of the most fortunate women in Logres. However the people of Avalon may have welcomed me, I knew that in the deepest part of my soul, no voice would make me comfortable, not even in the land to which I belonged. However much I craved, I would never be able to allow myself to love Avalon, or the Goddess. But if I did not feel comfortable in Avalon, then where would I truly belong? Where would I find my true identity?

One Day Later

"Welcome, Morgaine. And Mirouaene! I saw you last as no more than a mere infant. And you have grown so tall and beautiful, and you carry yourself well, like any Avalon priestess."

I smiled at the small but queenly lady with the soft eyes. So this must be the Lady of the Lake—Viviane, as Morgaine called her. I thought to myself. "Thank you." I spoke quietly, mainly out of embarrassment. Were all the priestesses of Avalon short? Was I to be the odd one out of Avalon? At that moment it seemed that my heart sagged inside my body, expressing my disappointment. Now I would be much less welcome in Avalon. I was tall and slender, with long dark hair that almost reached my waist. My fingers were long and graceful as well, like leaves floating into the hazy sunlight. Though I thought myself quite good-looking, I had now given up all hope for being accepted into even my own motherland.

"Lady Viviane—" I stopped short as a fleet-footed messenger sped through the mists at the entrance to Avalon, where Morgaine and I were speaking with Viviane. I was shocked at the blue-painted messenger's rude behavior as to interrupt our conversation, and stared open-mouthed at the man.

"My lady—great Priestess of Avalon—our—most loyal—king has—passed in battle." The man said while panting and breathing deeply.

Viviane's face remained expressionless and vague, as if a stone covering had been draped over it. I looked quizzically at Morgaine, who leaned in to listen to the messenger's news with a slight look of hope in her eyes which even I had trouble detecting. "And…" she asked softly.

"The Queen Igraine is bitterly upset and must only think of her son, who remains a lone reminder of her husband."

"My brother…my baby…" Morgaine stared far off into the mists. I restrained myself from questioning her, for I had been told by my foster-father at Benwick not to interfere in matters of state, and as far as I knew, searching for a new king was an important one. However, curiosity took over me and I decided to question the messenger instead.

"Who are they planning to choose as the new monarch?" I asked timidly.

"The boy is too young to take the throne, and has been in fostering for about nine years now. His mother's sister's son is still younger than him, though he is next in line for the throne. Therefore, it must be given to his father, King Lot of Lothian and the Isles. Now I must leave, best wishes to all!"

The messenger set off quickly and Viviane narrowed her eyes in anger. "Lot and Morgause, a fine couple they make, the conniving pair. We must prevent him from taking the throne. He will surely not be loyal to Avalon, and disaster will come over the land, enveloping Avalon forever in the mists. It will drift forever as a lost land like Atlantis if Lot is in power." She looked thoughtful. "I will consult with Merlin on this night about whose hands the kingdom shall be given in to. You may take Mirouaene to the House of Maidens instead of leaving her with me. She will stay in your room for the night. You may begin by speaking to her about what she will have to expect in Avalon and the numerous amounts of skills she will have to learn."

"She has the Sight, Viviane." Morgaine whispered, her voice calm. "I have predicted her learning quickly. There will be nothing to explain to her, when the time comes."

"Oh no. Mirouaene has much to learn. She may be the cleverest mage in Avalon, but her mind works in such a way that she imagines. Her confidence level is very low." I stood stock still as I overheard Viviane's words. I fixed my stare on Viviane. I understood that I would not be perfect, but when Viviane gave Morgaine that message, a pang of hurt feeling overwhelmed me with more pain that I would have felt if I had told Morgaine myself.

"She is young, and has many years ahead of her. There is time, Viviane, there is time." Morgaine gave Viviane a defiant glance. I sneaked a smile towards the younger lady. I could ask Morgaine for advice at anytime, and she would help me. Suddenly, I was ecstatic, I was experiencing a feeling that I thought would never occur. Morgaine loved me, and would protect me. With her power of love, she would shine a single light into my heart, and though I would never be able to walk into Avalon's arms, I could always find a place in Morgaine's heart, which would take more than a thousand Avalon's to replace.

"You two may dine at my cottage before leaving for the House. Mirouaene, you will be introduced to Raven the Silent Prophet. She is the most advanced in the Sight, and is able to predict the future far ahead, many generations after us. As for you Morgaine, I plan to enter you in the king-making ceremony at Dragon Island as the Virgin Huntress. You will perform the rites of the Tribes, so that they, and the Druids, will accept their new king."

"With Lot? Viviane, Lot is much older than me. He was a good deal older than Morgause herself when she married him. You cannot possibly want me to complete this task! Is there any older priestess who might be interested?"

"Morgaine, what have I just spoken about? Lot will never be king, and Morgause will never gain power, and if I must hold her from it, I will gladly do so! I have made plans, which I will discuss with Merlin. The new king will be much more favorable to you, my dear." She grinned smugly.

We were led to Viviane's snug cottage where we ate a large loaf of bread and some fruit. Morgaine explained to me that priestesses were forbidden to eat meat; it was almost equal to cannibalism, as we would be feasting on lesser sons and daughters of our great mother Earth. I was content with that, for I had always loathed seeing mutton or veal on a platter after being well-cooked. I loved the natural wild, and the thought of an innocent animal being slaughtered for the benefit of humankind was absolutely horrid to me. After finishing off our repast, Morgaine and I bid Raven and Viviane good-bye, and made our way towards the House of Maidens.

"Mirouaene, dear, you will now be able to enjoy the wonderful sights of Avalon during the hours of darkness. On top of the Tor you will witness celebrations and festivities centered on the ringstones. It is very beautiful, is it not?"

A chill ran across my arm as a slight breeze cut through the dark sky. "The Tor is very—very large." I shivered both because of the cold and the size of the massive hill towering above us.

"It is." Morgaine replied, as we ascended the hill towards the House of Maidens. "The Beltane rituals often take place on the top of the Tor." She sighed. "I really wish Viviane would tell us who she plans to make the new king. Though I do not understand how she would be able to construct the path that Britain will take toward its glory…or its downfall." She looked at me and spoke. "The only event that does not take place around the ringstones is the king-making. I will have to go to Dragon Island whenever Viviane and Merlin come to a conclusion. We have come upon the mirror pool right now, the source of the Sight, and I could very well look into it to predict…but what if the result is not what I was hoping for?" She turned away from the pool with her hands covering her face.

The new king! I had almost forgotten, though the news had come just earlier today. Who would take the position? If this Lot of Lothian was the only legible successor, and Avalon did not want him on the throne, then who would become king? Would the Britain fall to the Saxons? I shuddered at the thought as I shifted my gaze to the clear depths of the mirror pool. I did not know what to do, but I finally decided to close my eyes gently and pray for my visions to come back to me. Dear God—Goddess of Avalon…Mother…Maiden…Priestess! I have no knowledge on how to summon my Sight, as Morgaine calls it. Please aid me! I want to help Morgaine! Please! I opened my eyes and stared into the pool. I could see nothing but the bottom of the pool once again. I turned away in frustration.

"Mirouaene…"

A sudden jolt of knowledge struck me in the head like a bolt of lightning. The rightful heir! Who is the rightful heir! Uther had a son! But the messenger said it was not possible…he is too young! But who? Viviane would never allow Avalon to fall to the Saxons. It is her flesh and blood. Her voice is that of the Goddess, Morgaine has told me. Oh why, why won't I have visions when I really need them? I began to recollect my miserable time at the Benwick court...jeering…Lancelot…maids…the minstrel…the MINSTREL! The stories! When had he told me the story of a king…or king-making? Shain was the son of a king…the oldest of three brothers, therefore the rightful heir to the throne! I stared into the mirror pool once again. The surface rippled to reveal a tall, thin, golden-haired young man seated on a fine white stallion. He had somewhat the look of the former king. I suddenly became terrified of what I saw. I tried to run far from the pool, but my legs would not budge. Uther's son! Morgaine's bro—

"Mirouaene, are you all right? Why are you staring into the mirror pool like that? What—" She walked towards me and leaned her head forward, intending to read the message written inside the water.

I couldn't help myself at that next moment. I plunged into the water, shattering the image and sending rivulets of water every which way. "Morgaine—" I said hoarsely. I cannot let her know that the future king is her own brother, who she loves like her own soul. So this is Viviane's supposed plan. And she proposes the two to participate in the king-making. All for shaming her own kin! This is disgraceful! I must tell Morgaine…I must protect her…I must prevent it… I thought with a sudden wave of confidence. But how would I explain it? If I succumbed to the truth, a battle between Morgaine and Viviane would ensue, and I would be the root of it. I would be rejected from Avalon…then where would I go? I would just have to force her to obey me. I would not let her participate in the king-making. "Do not listen to Viviane, or Merlin. I have sensed danger linked to the king-making ritual. It is vital that you not participate. I am only trying to return the kindness and wise words that you have given to me. Please obey me, Morgaine. Viviane has set a trap—"

"Mirouaene, don't speak nonsense. Is that what you are trying to hide from me by jumping in the water?"

"Yes—no—" I tried to pick my words carefully, but I did not succeed.

"I cannot disobey Viviane, she is the Lady of Avalon! She speaks with the voice of the Goddess, and if I disobey the Goddess, Avalon will suffer a civil war, because of me!"

"You will have no choice but to surrender to Viviane in the same war if you do not listen to me, Morgaine. Shame, regret, pain, and misfortune will visit you if you take part in the king-making. I can see it clearly. I can see conflict, destruction—" I began to lose my temper slowly.

"Mirouaene..." Morgaine suddenly looked taller than I, and her eyes shot their own angry words at me. I squeaked in horror, I had never seen this side of Morgaine, the fuming wrath of a priestess. "Let us go, it is late." She spoke quite calmly, however.

I sighed and obeyed. I had tried to help her, but she was stubborn, and wouldn't listen. Morgaine led me to experience the feelings of love, appreciation, and admiration. I had wanted to return those feelings to her, to show that I cared. But alas, her life would take a turn for the worse, and it would be my fault. And I would forever spend my life as a coward, haunted by a warning that I had never given because of my own silly fears.