Title: Magic Swords and Marital Troubles

As Snow and David test Arthur's loyalties, she takes the opportunity to reconnect with an old friend. In the past, Guinevere and Arthur's wedding is crashed by a surprising figure.

As always, I own nothing.

All philosophers prefer to live in towers...It was the highest room in the castle, directly below the look-out of the great keep, and from its window you could gaze across the open field-with its rights of warren-across the park, and the chase, until your eye finally wandered out over the distant blue tree-tops of the Forest Sauvage.

-T.H. White, The Sword in the Stone

Camelot, Ten Years Ago…

This may be the happiest moment of Arthur Pendragon's life. No, you know what? It was . Not two hours ago, he and Guinevere took their vows and became husband and wife. At first, Arthur was saddened that he couldn't give his bride the splendor and finery she deserved as royalty. But when he saw her, the love in her eyes as she met him before the priest, they could be dressed in sacks and Arthur wouldn't have cared a bit.

Arthur had to scrape and claw for what respect and status he had. Now, he was seated at the head of the table with his new bride, and the entire village of Camelot attending their wedding-feast. His friends, Lancelot and Percival, were at his side, and even Kay had made an appearance.

"I know that this is to be the start of a good marriage, and a new start for our kingdom."

Arthur had the love of a good woman, the respect of the people he would be king of, and a good meal to look forward to. Excalibur and Merlin could not have been further from his thoughts.

But, as it seems, there must always be a spectre at the feast.

At the edge of the festivities stood a woman robed in black. No one knew her, and few had even noticed her, but as soon as Arthur finished his toast, she stepped forward.

"Madam? Can I help you?" Arthur questioned.

"Perhaps, perhaps," she considered, her voice creaking with age.

The old woman straightened up, removing her cloak and hood. "I am the Queen Witch of Annuvin, and I was quite disappointed not not receive an invitation." Any question of her claim was soon quashed, as there was something dignified in her bearing, something special about her that distinguished her from the rabble that surrounded her. Specifically, it was the gleaming iron crown upon her head, and the fine quality of her purple dress.

The effect wasn't lost on the royal couple. That meant if this woman was Queen, then Witch was no less valid part of her title. As Arthur had learned, witches were dangerous when crossed. Even if said witch was getting on in years, around fifty years old with silver streaking her hair.

"We meant no disrespect-" Guinevere stood, but was silenced by the Queen's raised hand.

"No, no...a young couple has much more pressing matters to think of on their wedding day," she smiled. "Though as the future rulers of Camelot, you should consider how to use such events more...diplomatically." She looked about. "What's this? Only two hogs and a few chickens for all these guests? Not much for a royal wedding." The queen clucked her tongue. Arthur ducked away, his cheeks burning in shame.

"Which is why I have brought a present." Chuckling, the woman's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She clapped her hands twice, and from the woods emerged more figures, carrying huge helpings of meat on metal platters. "Five casks of wine and five spit-roasted deer, as a wedding present to King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, to be shared amongst you and your guests!"

A general cheer rose up from the crowd, and the man who would be king watched as the forgein queen's servants shared her meat and her wine amongst his wedding guests. Soon enough, as their bellies were filled with good wine and rich meat, toasts were raised to the Queen Witch's health, with Arthur and Guinevere's marriage seeming to fall to a much more secondary place.

Arthur bit his tongue, and thanked Her Majesty as genuinely as he could.

With his new position as Siege Perilous, David found himself with a whole new level of status in Camelot.

Back in the Enchanted Forest, Snow had handled the court herself whenever possible, although she got no pleasure out of that. "One benefit to being on the run?" She had joked, "is not having to worry about offending someone by where I seat them for dinner." He'd spent long enough as Prince James at that point to have some idea of what she was saying. The nobility had a special and maddening way of interacting with each other that the shepherd stumbled to navigate. Where smiles could be sharp as daggers, and conversations just another tool in the constant jostling for position and favor.

David had little head for politics, and was disgusted to see someone trying to leverage the suffering of their people for their own gain. They'd been lucky enough to find allies in like-minded royalty-those like Cinderella and Thomas, Philip and Aurora-who didn't play those kinds of games. Plus, having an evil and powerful sorceress queen bearing down on a kingdom tended to sweep away at least a little of the nonsense.

Still, David hadn't missed the looks and comments. Red had told him some of the comments she'd overheard, how he was pretty to look at, and good and a fight, but useless when it came to actually running a kingdom. On that, at least, they were right. Given the choice, he'd pick fighting a dragon over trade negotiations or tax policy any day.

Camelot had none of that political nonsense. King Arthur was the center of court life, and it seemed his people followed his example. It was nice to meet another royal who had not only the power, but the drive to do what was best for his people. A good man and a good king.

As David was thinking this over, Lancelot was telling Snow White about how they couldn't trust Arthur and Camelot isn't what it seems.

(I believe the term is: irony)

Looking out over the main hall, it was easy for Arthur to forget how it was built. How all of what people knew of Camelot these days was built. The Sands of Avalon were enchanted to make what was broken appear whole. Five years ago he had used it on his wife and his kingdom. With the exception of Merlin's tower, every single building in the capital of Camelot was created through that sand. It turned a village of wood shacks with thatch roofs to a grandiose castle and city of stone. His people loved him for that.

(Or maybe it was the magical sand roofie, not that Arthur cared either way.)

Soon, he would have it all.

Gathered in one of their guest chambers, Belle and Killian shared their findings with Regina and Snow White, and David.

"How did you find out about that? Arthur said it was Camelot's greatest secret," David asked, his brow creasing.

Belle held up a black book. "Maeve wrote about it in her grimoire.

"How would Mim know about it?"

"Merlin forged Excalibur, and her father is- was Merlin's Apprentice." Killian reminded. "But that's not the point, the point is-"

That was when they heard something from the other room. Going to investigate, the pirate almost got his head taken off by a burst of Emma's magic.

One look at his daughter, and David knew she was getting worse. One fight with his wife later, and he had an idea to try and fix it.

Camelot, 10 Years Ago…

With two goblets of wine in hand, Arthur took a break from his dancing and his wife to go towards the edges of the gathering. There the Queen Witch sat, watching the 'youngsters' dance while she begged off, citing her aching feet.

He had taken a break from the dancing, and came instead bearing two goblets of wine. "May I ask you a question?"

She gratefully took it and nodded her head.

"You've ruled Annuvin for years...making your claim over a kingdom that hasn't known rule in over a century. As Camelot hasn't known a true king since my father died, I cannot help but see the similarities."

"Hm, looking for advice, aye?" Arthur nodded.

She leaned her head back, considering. "Building a kingdom means building a kingdom. You need sturdy houses, canals, wells, aqueducts...it's as hard as any quest but without any of the glory. But you'll need it if you want your people to thrive, even if the logistics of it will have you reaching for the bottle and fantasizing about running off to Misthaven with a pretty young-" she remembered herself. "Well, you get the picture. I'd start with clean drinking water first. Then move onto the houses, as thatched roofs make a happy homes for rats."

"That is your advice, infrastructure?"

"That's my practical advice." She took another drink. He looked away, sighing. "But I'm sensing that you want a little more than that."

The young king tried and failed not to seem too eager. "Well, you're lucky because the wine is putting me in a nice, talkative mood." The old queen spent a long moment regarding the young man. She then leaned forward in her chair, her expression bidding Arthur to do the same. He did so, waiting for the words of wisdom.

"Let me tell you a little secret: power is where people think it is." With a nod, she leaned back and took another drink of wine. Arthur blinked.

"What?"

A considering look, those bright eyes flicking up and down. "A practical example then. Your father is Uther Pendragon, that I do not dispute, but why does that give you the right to rule?"

He scoffed with a laugh, "That's obvious. He was the king, and as he has no other heir, I naturally succeed him."

But the Queen Witch was serious. "But why is that so?"

"Because I am his son. His only child." At her look though, the young man kept talking. "The Royal House of Pendragon has ruled for centuries. This shows that they are meant to rule Camelot."

"How did they rule?"

"Well, from what I've heard with strength and wisdom and-"

"No, no, no, no." She waved her hand. "Your ancestors kept themselves on the throne because people place stock in blood, and that the child of a king has the right to their father's throne. Why place so much power in kings when, really, what is a monarch? Just one single person. And what is a king to a mob?"

Arthur took a drink of his wine. "Curious things for a queen to say. That you're no more than any one of your subjects."

She laughed. "I have a few parlor tricks, but take away my magic I'm not much different from any other citizen of Annuvin. What I'm not a fan of inherited power. If I were any other queen, and I had a son, no matter how just or strong or wise I might be-and I make no presumptions to that-he could be a hotheaded idiot, and after my death could ruin all my life's work."

Arthur sat and considered. He wasn't so narrow-minded that he couldn't see the logic in her words. At the same time, he had seen what happened when a kingdom was left without an heir. "What would be the alternative, then?"

"Simple, the ones allowed to rule are those who prove themselves worthy of it. We don't put stock in bloodlines in Annuvin. It's all this," she tapped the circlet on her head. "The Iron Crown, granted to Prince Pwyll by the gods themselves. Only the true ruler can wear it, all others are burned to ash. It cannot be inherited, only earned by besting the previous monarch in some way. My decisions affect the lives of thousands, and yet my authority boils down to 'because the crown says so'." She laughed to herself and took another drink. "But if I might move back to more practical advice, if you are the king of Merlin's prophecy, then that sword guarantees your legitimacy and makes rebuilding this kingdom a whole lot easier."

"On that we can agreed." They clinked their cups together and drank. "But with all you said I must ask...how did you win your crown?"

The Queen Witch just smiled.

Camelot, Present Day…

The old witch had been right, once he had Excalibur, Arthur had the legitimacy and the respect that he hadn't had before. But the problem wasn't with his people, it was with his sword. Well, half of his sword.

Where's the rest of it?

How will you take the throne with half the sword?

The answer was: lying.

(Yeah, yeah, Killian and Emma are off being super adorable and probably get busy getting busy in a field of middlemist flowers. But you already know how all of that goes.)

Snow and David had agreed, they needed to get Arthur to reveal his true intentions. With their daughter's future (and quite possibly sanity ) hanging in the balance, they had to know who to trust.

Still, she looked towards the knight traveling alongside her, it was always good to see old friends. Especially old friends that you had thought were murdered by your wicked step-grandmother.

"So," Snow White eventually asked. "How did you trick Cora?"

"Hm?"

"I mean, Cora was one of the most powerful sorceresses in the Enchanted Forest, even Regina was afraid of her power. How did you get away?"

Lancelot chuckled. "Oh, that is a story…"

Camelot, 15 Years Before the Dark Curse…

The young not-yet-knight stared in confusion. Deciding it was time to make a name for himself, Lancelot had left his mother's lakeside home, and started to make his way towards the village of Camelot. A journey not most would comfortably take in chainmail armor, but he figured he would have to get used to it.

The sword at his side made Lancelot feel much more prepared for whatever he would have to face.

But what in the hells was that .

A woman was hunched on all fours and eating a raw deer carcass. (Yep, you heard me, a raw deer carcass. Throat slit, its rib cage cracked open-three guesses who's going to town on this all-you-can-eat gorey forest buffet)

"Can I, uh, help you?" Lancelot asked, watching the hunched figure carefully, his hand tight on the pommel of his sword.

The hunched over figure turned around. (Ding-ding-ding, it is our favorite feral witch, one Madam Mim). "Oh, hi, I was just, uh-" if she was going to try any kind of excuse for what was going on, it instantly died on her tongue. "Having a bite to eat."

"I can see that." He commented. "Are you…okay?"

"I'm fine," she hand waved, then frowned. "Actually, you know what? No. I'm not fine, actually."

"Oh-kay?"

Mim turned around to get a better look at him, sitting down on the soft grass of the forest floor. Lancelot purposefully kept his eyes on her and not the pile of entrails mere inches from her. "I mean, the woman I'm in love with is getting married to someone else. Someone she fell in love with and that bothers me."

Whatever he thought she was going to say, that certainly wasn't it. "That's...that's rough."

The black-and-purple haired woman nodded. "But, really what right do I have to be upset about it? None, really!" She threw her blood-stained hands up. "I mean, we were having sex-really great sex-but it's my fault for never saying anything about how I felt."

"Ah, I see." Lancelot nodded along. If he ignored the blood and gore it wasn't too different from running into a stranger at a tavern and letting them vent. Sometimes, people just needed a sympathetic ear. (And, apparently, hunt down and eat a deer with their bare hands)

"And Elaine really is a lovely woman," she continued, "and I can see she makes Vivienne happy. And that's all I want when you get down to it-Vivienne happy. Even if it isn't with me…" She sighed wistfully and looked away.

Lancelot was kind of hoping this would be the end of the conversation-that he could walk away from this feral person he did not know and had wished to be better strangers with-when she spoke again.

"Actually, you know what?" She reached for something at her hip.

"Uh, what?" Lancelot took a half-step back.

She either didn't notice his concern or ignored it. "Could you take this off my hands? Seriously, save me from myself." She took a small pouch off her belt and tossed it over to the knight. Lancelot caught it on instinct.

"Uh, sure?" He supposed, " What...is it, exactly?"

"A special kind of Wonderland mushroom spore mixed with essence of leviathan to give it an extra hallucinogenic kick," she explained. "Someone gets a breath of that, they are out all night." With a smile that probably came off as more of a grimace, Lancelot carefully placed the bag amongst his own possessions.

She looked back down at the deer, then back at him. "Sorry, I'm being rude. Would you like any?" she gestured to the raw carcass meat.

"No! Thank you, I'm fine." Lancelot smiled, hoping it didn't look too much like a grimace. The purple woman shrugged, and snapped one of the leg bones to suck out the marrow.

Not too long later, the woman stood up, wiped the gore off of her face, and walked off into the woods like she didn't have a care in the world.

Lancelot would later hear stories about the ferocious Madam Mim, the purple witch who prowled the woods and preyed on the innocent. He wouldn't connect it to the heartbroken woman he met on the road to Camelot—mostly because he'd tried to erase the entire incident from his mind because of how gods-damn weird the whole encounter was.

Snow White stared at her friend.

"You tricked Cora and faked your own death...with magic mushrooms?"

"Mushroom spores, technically." He smiled, looking oddly pleased with himself. "She and her henchmen got one whiff of that, and I managed to make my escape. By the time I formulated a plan and returned, it was too late, and everyone in the village was dead." His voice filled with guilt. Snow placed a hand on his arm.

"And after that?"

He shrugged. "I kept moving, helping when I could. I was in the Eastern Empire when I heard tale of the true rulers of Misthaven returning," he smiled, looking back at her. "But by the time I managed to reach your kingdom, it seemed that another Dark Curse had taken you and your people away."

Snow White chuckled. "It is funny how we keep missing each other."

(Yadda yadda yadda, Arthur turns out to be a two-faced liar, blah blah blah, you know what happens.)

"I could go with you." Vivienne offered once more.

Maeve shook her head. While it had been good to stay with her old friend, the change of scenery had made the witch realize how much she was putting off and still running away from.

Oberon wasn't far away, being spoiled rotten with treats from Elaine de Hautdesert. The good lady truly hadn't minded the visitors, and had been every bit a gracious host.

She fidgeted, twisting the ring on her left hand. "Thank you, but no. You're right I can't-I can't avoid Arthur forever. I need to face this head on."

Viv placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so, so proud of you, Maeve."

The witch flushed. "Well, uh-" she cleared her throat. "Just, keep an eye on Greediguts for me, okay? I should be back in a day or two to pick him up.

"Of course." Before the purplette could leave, Vivienne swooped her up into one of her famous bear hugs. The witch, to her credit, did nothing to stop her.

Arthur has just finished throwing Lancelot in the dungeon when he got the news.

"Uh, sir?" Gawain approached. "It's the Queen Witch."

"...I beg your pardon."

"It's the Queen Witch, sir. She's here and she requests a private audience."

The woman had been thought to have been swept up in the Dark Curse with the rest of her nation. How had she- Burying his surprise, Arthur collected himself once more into the figure of regality that he was. As he entered the receiving area, he saw that the Queen was alone-his knights rightly assuming the two monarchs wish to speak in private. She was looking up at one of the tapestries on the wall-the one of his parents, King Uther and Queen Igraine.

She was dressed in a black cloak, and was not wearing the Iron Crown. He wasn't sure why that made him pause. Still, he put on a smile and went to greet her.

"Your Majesty," he bowed, approaching her. The woman turned and smiled at him. "How kind of you to grace Camelot with your presence."

"Your Majesty," she returned with a small curtsey. "The pleasure is all mine." Her expression changed into one a bit more serious. "Now, as lovely as it is to see you again, I need to confess a secret."

"A secret?" He raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, anything you say here is in the strictest confidence."

"Yes, and all I ask is that you let me speak before making any rash decisions."

"You have my word as a king."

She nodded. Arthur's eyebrows raised in surprise as the figure of the old queen melted away, leaving behind a younger woman with short black and purple hair.

Dun, dun, dun!

Annuvin Servant: You'll have to forgive Her Majesty. She's gay and likes unnecessary drama

Guinevere, stuffing her face with venison: I've got no complaints

It always bugged me how they handled Lancelot in season 5, namely by having him basically pop his head in and then never doing anything with him. Like, Cora was one of the most powerful sorceresses ever and even Rumplestiltskin feared her. And Lancelot just...tricked her? So this is my way of kind of reconciling that.

(Don't worry he WILL have a larger role in the story)

As always if you have any thoughts/questions/concerns or just want to scream your feelings at me, comment below and let me know!