Summary: While David and Arthur quest for the Crimson Crown, Belle talks to Killian about loving a Dark One. In the past, young Arthur gets more than he bargained for while out hunting with Sir Kay.
A gore-crow came flapping wearily before the approaching night. It came, it did not waver, it took the arrow. It flew away, heavy and hoisting, with the arrow in its beak.
Kay was frightened by this, but the Wart was furious. He had loved his arrow's movement, its burning ambition in the sunlight, and, besides, it was his best one. It was the only one which was perfectly balanced, sharp, tight-feathered, clean-nocked, and neither warped nor scraped.
"It was a witch," said Kay.
-T.H. White, "The Sword in the Stone"
"I still think we should at least try to contact Maeve." Belle insisted. The women of Team Save Emma were in Merlin's tower, working on a way to try and free the famous Sorcerer from his chlorophyll prison.
"Except she was very clear about her reputation in Camelot. Specifically, how it wouldn't help us. C'mon. Someone. Witchbane." Reaching into Mim's bag, the librarian passed a small bag of the dried herb over to the former Evil Queen.
Emma was in the corner with Mary Margaret. "You guys sure you don't want me to just wiggle my nose and get him out of that tree?"
"No!"
"Your magic is dark now," Regina reminded, mixing her potion. "It's not worth it. It'll just keep up pretending to be the Savior destined to free him, and we can do this together."
"Regina's right," David spoke up from where he was standing by the doorway. Not involved at all in the magical research, just holding baby Neal and feeling totally useless.
"I heard someone say a woman was right," the door creaked open, and revealing a rather chipper King Arthur. "That's always a safe assumption, isn't it David?" Their host greeted with a smile, that the Prince of Misthaven returned. Arthur walked over to Regina, who had started mixing her potion. "How are you progressing, madame Savior?"
"Uh...progress. Slow but sure."
"Speaking of madams," Belle stepped forward. "Does the name 'Madam Mim' mean anything to you? I've seen her referenced as a powerful witch from Gramarye, and a master of transformation magic. If so, her insight could help us free Merlin."
"Madam Mim...hasn't been seen in over twenty years." The monarch had a look on his face, like someone was talking to him about something vulgar. The brunette decided to breeze past it.
"Well, shouldn't we at least inquire or-"
"Lady Belle," the king interrupted, his expression turning a bit more serious. "Madam Mim is indeed a shapechanger, but seeking her help would be a fool's errand. What your books might not have mentioned is that besides a powerful witch, she's also a black hearted villain. I've encountered her before, and she's as wicked as they come." He looked over to Regina. "While, Madame Savior, Camelot is a place of new beginnings, I can't take that kind of chance on a woman who's been an enemy of my kingdom for centuries."
"Centuries?" David asked. Because with all the craziness in their lives, it was all too easy to forget that despite the fact that Maeve looked to be about their age, she had been running around long before their grandparents had even been born. (Her and Hook. And Rumplestiltskin. Good lord did they know a lot of bicentenarians)
"Not a constant threat, I grant you," Arthur continued, "but when she has appeared in our fair realm, it's never been with good intentions."
"I...see. Well, it's uh...marvelous having Merlin's own books to work with," she changed the subject with a tight smile. "It's like talking with the master."
That gave the Crown Princess of Mistaven an idea. "What if we could talk to him?"
Emma blinked. "What?"
After explaining it a bit, those with the magical know-how agreed that it was actually a good plan.
"You are-occasionally-a genius." Regina praised her friend and stepdaughter, flipping through one of the great books.
The Crimson Crown, a toadstool with a deadly poison, but extremely useful in communicating across magical barriers. Rumored to grow in Broceliande, otherwise known as the Forest of Eternal Night.
Legend or no, protected or no, David finally had something that he could do to help his daughter.
(Well, no one likes feeling useless and it's not like they can binge Netflix to pass the time here)
The grimoire was bound with black leather, and obviously old by the binding was firm and the words clear. In Mim's hand were instructions and thoughts on all sorts of magical matters—invisibility charms, uses of fairy dust, all sorts of potions and magical artifacts—perhaps there would be information concerning Merlin, or even the Dark One! Being centuries old would give someone that kind of insight.
But the more Belle read, the more troubles she found herself with, instead of less. Because the entries in the grimoire contained some rather...disturbing details and applications of magic. Mermaids drowning sailors, how quickly the venom of Blood Scarabs overtook a victim, potions of inducing madness...all kinds of entries that detailed horrible things being done to people. Things Maeve at the very least observed and did nothing to stop, with the more chilling alternative being she did some of these 'experiments' herself.
People change. She reminded herself. But then again, she'd also thought that about Rumple. Been so convinced, she'd been blinded to all the harm he did to their friends and family until it was almost too late.
"Belle,"
"Killian."
"True Love's Kiss, I need to know why it didn't work on you and the Crocodile?"
With a sigh, she placed the grimoire off to the side. "Well, it did work, the first time…" she sighed, remembering the brush of his lips on hers, and the first glimpse of flesh instead of reptilian scales. "It awoke the man behind the beast…" She pursed her lips. "But Rumple got scared of a life without power...and he chose power over love." Looking back it was all rather obvious, how things would turn out. She looked back up at Killian. "You know a curse isn't a curse if the afflicted wants it."
"That won't be a problem with Emma." He moved to walk away.
"Killian, wait-" Belle stood, stopping him in his tracks. "I know that we're going to find a way but-in fair warning it is far easier to hate a Dark One than it is to love one." She whispered, not forgetting where they were. "So whatever you do, just be careful."
The warning seemed to sink in this time. Killian nodded, and walked away with a purpose. The librarian sat back down, and picked up the black grimoire. With such a stark reminder of her last relationship, everything she was reading about Maeve
She shook her head. People do change, for better for worse, and Belle wasn't about to let her coward of an ex-husband shake her faith in the good of others. After all, these entries were written by a woman decades or even centuries ago. The Madam Mim that wrote this, and the Maeve she knew were two different people. Because Maeve had decided that she was going to change long before she came to Storybrooke.
Spirits lifted, Belle once more started reading. While trying to find the entry she'd been reading, a flash of red caught her eye. Was that-that was the Crimson Crown! Reading the handwritten entry, most of it was a repeat of what Regina had said about the magical toadstool, but with the certainty that it did grow in the forest, and that she had even seen it. And the fact that it was guarded.
-don't ask me who enchanted the suits of armor though. They aren't much for conversation.
Huh. Well, luckily David had Arthur accompanying him on the quest.
Who the hell enchanted suits of armor to defend one measly mushroom? And to the death at that?!
David couldn't help but think that as he dragged himself up to shore. Then he realized that they'd managed to snag the Crimson Crown from him after all, and felt all the more foolish and useless.
"The word 'quest' means to seek, not to find-it's the seeking that matters." The king tried to assure him.
"Do you believe that?"
"Not truly, no" Arthur admitted. "If the finding is what makes a difference in this world, then that's what I want. I'm sorry." From anyone else it would probably sound cheesy and over sentimental, but King Arthur actually made it work. David couldn't help but laugh.
"It's just...I don't want to just be remembered as the man who kissed a sleeping princess awake thirty years ago."
"I understand." Arthur leaned back against the post connecting the bridge to the mainland.
"Yes, a large rock decided I was to be a hero, prophesy fulfilled." He smiled, self-depreciating as the two shared a chuckle. (Technically it was a wizard stuck in an oak tree, but semantics). "But even with that kind of destiny, I've had my fair share of troubles, and challenges…"
Camelot, 20 Years Before the Dark Curse…
When the boy who would one day be king met Madam Mim, it was in the middle of a boar hunt.
They were in the Forest of Sauvage, on the lands owned by Sir Ector. The lord himself had unfortunately fallen ill, but told his son, the newly knighted Sir Kay, to go out and have fun with the hunt without him.
As Kay's squire, Arthur was to accompany him. Barely a step up from stable-boy really, but now at least Arthur was learning how to use a sword.
"Why not let the boy take the next a shot?" One of the other hunters suggested. They already had a boar ready to bring back to the castle, and were only still combing the woods as a way to spend the day. (One needed all sorts of ways to fill time in the days before printing presses, the internet, or Facebook scrolling).
Not to long after, they came across another shot. A purple doe in a sunny clearing. All of their eyes widened as they took in the color-it was purple of all things! Not to mention, despite the known sensitivity of the animal's senses, she didn't seem to have noticed their approach, lapping up water from a nearby stream.
With a smile, the young knight raised his crossbow, imagining all sorts of praised and stories he could tell, of finding and hunting a purple deer.
Arthur stepped forward anyway. "You said I could take the next shot." He reminded, wanting what he had been promised. Sir Kay looked huffy, but nodded his head in a 'get on with it' motion.
The young man raised his own crossbow and exhaled. Lining up the sights, Arthur couldn't help but smile as he pulled the trigger.
The arrow let fly, but before it struck the deer's side, there was a puff of pink-purple smoke. The deer was no longer a deer, but a woman. She had caught the crossbow bolt mid-air, and was looking more than a bit annoyed.
"Who shot that?" She demanded, in the same tone of voice as an annoyed school teacher, and inspiring the same kind of fear in the grown knights as if they were misbehaving children.
Everyone immediately pointed at Arthur who dropped the crossbow like it was a straw and he had just lobbed a spitball. It was as she was stalking towards them that the squire belatedly realized that this woman was a witch.
Arthur had pictured a witch being much older, with warts or freckles or other kinds of ugliness. The woman standing before them was actually strikingly beautiful, and looked to be only a bit older than Sir Kay. Her hair was long, gently curled, and of an unnatural lilac color. A darker shade of purple was her surcoat, over pinkish-red robes.
Arthur's brow furrowed, just a bit. Purple was supposed to be for royalty or other Very Important People. Not for witches who lived out in the middle of the woods.
The leader of the hunting party cleared his throat. "I am Sir Kay, son of Sir Ector. These woods are my father's property, and you are trespassing."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "That so? Well, I don't see his name on it."
The three hunters drew their swords. One stalked forward towards her. "I'm not afraid of you witch, leave or face the consequences."
"Oh really?"
A flash of purple, and a tentacle emerged from underneath her skirt and wrapped around the hunter's throat.
"You should be."
There was a sharp snap of bone—like the crack of a bundle of twigs—and the hunter slipped from her grasp on to the forest floor, his neck at an unnatural angle.
The other hunter and Sir Kay immediately turned and fled, leaving Arthur behind.
"And you are?"
"I-I'm Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon." He tried to swallow. "The rightful king of Camelot."
"A king, huh?" Madam Mim tilted her head, her gaze predatory and assessing. The squire half-feared to look away.
"Y-yes." Arthur insisted, taking a step backwards.
The witch leaned forward, looking the boy directly in the eye. In a low voice, she told him: "I don't like kings."
He could only try to swallow down the fear as an evil smirk spread over Madam Mim's face, and
"So, my boy, I'm afraid I'll have to destroy you."
"Destroy me?!"
"Of course I'll give you a sporting chance," she assured, stepping back between the trees. "I'm just mad about games you know…" She smiled again, this time more of a psychotic baring of teeth than anything else.
"C'mon, get going boy! You got to keep on your toes in this game!" Any pretense of bravery or standing his ground flew right out the window. The boy who would be king turned and ran for his very life.
"That's right! Run boy, run!" Mim cackled as she started to give chase. Through the bushes, the undergrowth, even if he barely recognized where he was or if he was heading the right way, the boy kept running. Pushed ahead by his own adrenaline, and the sounds of her cackling laugh.
She chased him right to the edge of the forest line, twisting and turning through the trees as Arthur's heart felt like it could practically pound out of his chest. Once he made it to the village square, holding onto the tree and begging for Merlin to do something, did she stop, and just watch.
Mim nearly broke a rib, laughing at the boy who called himself a king nearly browning his pants from fear, trembling and crying against a tree. By the gods, she hadn't had so much fun in years.
Camelot, Present Day…
David was knighted as one of the round table, taking his place at Arthur's side as Siege Perilous. And yet, despite the exciting day, Guinevere found Arthur once more alone at the round table, looking melancholy. The reliquary chest of their magical finds was on the table next to him.
"Today was a difficult day," the king admitted, revealing the Crimson Crown-that which the Prince of Misthave had thought lost.
"You lied to him, to David." It wasn't a question.
"And it brought me no pleasure." He replied honestly. "He's a good man, a noble man, but I must think of my kingdom first."
Guinevere placed a hand on his shoulder, as magically complacent and agreeable as she had been for the past five years. "Of course you must."
"That is always the burden of a king."
It was then that the doors opened, and a familiar Knight strode forward, his armor dirty but his stride self-assured. "Sir Gawain," Arthur greeted with a smile, quickly placing the toadstool in the reliquary before rising to greet his sworn knight.
"Your Majesty," The young knight bowed, greeting his monarch with a weary smile before clasping his hand. "I am pleased to tell you that I have completed the quest you entrusted to me."
Only a few days after sending the indestructible cauldron and ladle. (Well it's not like they have cellphones out here and messengers only run so fast) "You've found it? All of it?"
"Yes, we believe so." Two of Gawain's trusted servants hauled in a large wooden box, placing it on the ground before the monarchs. They bowed out at their king's swift dismissal.
"Arthur?" Guinevere questioned, her brow furrowed. The king of Camelot smiled as he removed the lid with a crowbar. "What is that?"
His smile only grew as he inspected the contents within. "Something that is going to help us defend our kingdom," Arthur smiled, and lifted a horned helmet, charred with soot but still intact.
"Or shall we say...someone?"
(Uh-oh)
Camelot, 200+ years ago...
Spyglass in hand, the monarch watched the approaching army with some interest. They had conquered their way through the lands of Prydain, and were now at the borders of Camelot.
"The Fisher King has quite the host to greet us with…" he mused, looking over the opposing forces from where his own army was seated. Knights, infantry, archers...it was nice to know that the Royal House of Pendragon took this seriously. It was no fun if he was an incompetent buffon, even if it was easier to fight.
But no matter, he knew exactly how this was going to turn out.
The Horned King looks to the girl next to him. A girl she was, only about sixteen years old. Dressed in red robes trimmed with black, her dark hair tied back into a long braid. A far cry from those around her, all soldiers with large frames, heavy weapons, and spiked helmets to match their king's. Her face was stubbornly neutral, seemingly uncaring of all around her.
"Mim," he called, and the girl's gaze snapped over to him.
He collapsed the spyglass. "You know what to do." The Horned King ordered. The shapeshifter said nothing, the barest nod the only sign of acknowledgement as she stalked forward.
About ten paces away from the general's camp, the witch transformed into an enormous, purple-scaled dragon. Then, she was flying.
It was always so marvelous to watch, how she would launch herself into the air, as of gravity itself had no sway. How proud and strong she looked up there, above everything, a symbol of his army and of his kingdom.
The Horned King smiled as Mim's wings cast a large shadow overheard, nearly blocking the sun on the host of Camelot's army. He smiled even wider as her dragonfire replaces it, burning his enemies to ash.
It was good to be the king.
Dun Dun Dun!
Three guesses as to what Arthur now has. He's totally willing to bury the hatchet with Madam Mim, if he was burying a literal hatchet in her literal skull. Because that's what he wants to do.
This is probably as good a point to tell you guys that a Dark Curse will not be enacted, so the characters won't be going back to Storybrooke with conveniently wiped memories. Instead, we're going to be staying in Camelot for most of the story, so some of the things that happen throughout 5A have to be reshuffled, so to speak.
As always, if you have any thoughts/theories/concerns or just want to scream your feelings at me, comment below and let me know! I always love hearing from you guys!
