Chapter 4

It wasn't so much the death that affected her; it was the overwhelming sense of loss that seemed to haunt her. Morgause had extinguished all the remaining fire, but it was clear the isle would never be the same. Where there had once been beauty, only destruction remained. The perfume of magic that had once lingered had been replaced with the overpowering odour of burnt flesh and charcoal. She'd done a desperate search for survivors, but all she ever found was death. And with every mutilated body she found, she felt her hatred for Uther's tyrannical reign grow, as if the fire that had ruined her World now raged inside her helpless heart. But in this hatred, which only made her want to cry bitter tears in the ravaged building that was once her home, she remembered Taegan's words. Her heritage. Daughter of Lady Vivian. Her half-sister trapped within Camelot's suffocating walls. Just the promise of a family, someday, would leave her head spinning; dim the raging fire within her. The piercing gaze in Taegan's eyes as she lay dying kept themselves burning in Morgause's mind, as she remembered Taegan's last order to her. Find King Cenred. Seek protection with him. Use whatever method you need to.

Which is how she came to be stood on the rocky hill, a bitter wind bringing tears to her dark eyes, staring down at the bloody sight before her. She'd never seen a battleground before, but the one below was not the heroic image she'd been led to believe it would be. Dark, indistinguishable figures fought amongst themselves, the slaughter churning the earth beneath them with pools of crimson blood. There seemed to be no clear victor from where she stood, just a sickening massacre. And she itched with the chance of joining it.

Straining forward, she searched the battlefield for her desired object, the King Cenred. The blonde sighed in frustration as she searched in vain, it seemed. For all the knowledge she possessed from her years of studying on the Isle of the Blessed, she had never heard of Cenred, or his Kingdom. Which meant, unfortunately, all she knew was from Taegan's description. Cowardly and egotistical. Morgause cursed angrily, Taegan's description matched all men, how it was supposed to help, she didn't know.

She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening as she locked onto her find. It was him, Cenred, certainly. A dark figure on horseback at the back of one of the sides' forces. His sword was drawn, but he was not prepares to use it. In fact, Morgause noted amusedly, he was almost relaxed in the horse's saddle, as though he was watching a jousting match rather than the bloodthirsty battle before him. Morgause smiled as she mulled Taegan's description over: egocentric and cowardly. And she now understood exactly what the High Priestess had meant, for if the figure before her was not the most egocentric coward she had ever seen, she was unsure what was.

In her heavy armour, she turned back to the white stallion behind her. She regretted to say both items were dead man's property. The armour, rather primitive considering it belonged to a Knight of Camelot, was too big for her slim frame, though at least the helmet fit her with enough space to conceal her golden mane. She had kept the sword she used to slay Taegan's killer and, even now, she could feel her heart pounding as she held it tight. But the horse, that had been another matter. She had found him by the lakeside, obviously meant for when its rider returned from the isle, and had thought possessing a horse would be useful in her mission. Until she had realised she'd never mounted a horse in her life, let alone ridden one. It had taken time, and some hard miles riding, before she'd worked out roughly, how to ride. The beast was friendly enough though, thankfully. And, with the reigns in hand, she began to head, determinedly, towards the bloody battle that lay before her.

The battle was worsening, the tide turning heavily against his army, Cenred realised grimly. In every direction, he could see his soldiers lying motionless on the crimson stained grass, their limbs ripped, some of them still moaning helplessly. And, worse perhaps of all, he'd ended up in the midst of the bloodthirsty chaos, sword in either hand, battling the common thugs opposing him. They were ill-disciplined, thrusting wildly, grinning manically with crooked, yellow teeth and psychopathic eyes. And he was having no problem in cutting them down, controlled stabs that sent them falling. Yet the battle was not turning, and the soldiers were never ending. Cenred could feel sweat pouring down his already grimy face and, in it, he could feel his own mortality. His ears pounded with war cries and it took him time to realise his own voice was hoarse with shouting. This battle certainly wasn't the easy victory he had expected...

A clash of metal roused him from his thoughts, bringing him back to the slaughter around him. He had not felt any retaliation in this battle before, he could take opponents down with a quick blow, no fighting involved. But, as he looked up towards his opposition's manic face, he felt his own pale. A brute of a man stood before him, towering over Cenred's pathetic form, a broadsword grasped tightly in a perfectly muscled arm. A single kick sent Cenred, still reeling in shock at the beast he faced, sprawling into a bloody puddle. And, as sure as the rising sun, Cenred watched with pale dark eyes as the broadsword was raised, and he prepared himself for the emptiness that would follow.

Except it never came. No quick slice, no pain, no emptiness. Instead, he watched as his opponent flew backwards, as though been hit by a singular blast of an earthquake aftershock. His neck snapped back, sounding his death with an earth shattering crack as the bones snapped. And a metal gloved hand was offered to Cenred, pulling him up to find himself meeting a chain mail clad soldier, so unlike his leather figure, whose only visible feature under their battered helmet was a pair of large, chestnut eyes.

'We have the soldier you requested, my Lord. Shall we send him in?'

Cenred's head snapped up at his servant's low voice and, with an exhausted signal, he ordered the servant to bring the man in.

The battle had finally ended a little before nightfall and, surprisingly, it had been a victory for Cenred's depleted forces. The mysterious Knight who had saved Cenred's life had also turned the battle, it seemed. For their display on the field, which must have been magic, Cenred realised, had taken the fight out of the opposition. He had lost sight of the figure after he saved him, though, as much as he had wanted to thank the Knight. But now his servants had found him. Cenred smiled to himself, leaning back in his velvet padded chair, and watched as the ruby tent doors split open and the figure entered, still clad in the ill fitting chain mail.

'Take a seat. It's the least you deserve.' Cenred motioned to the wooden chair opposite him, yet the Knight remained stood, hands clasped behind their back. Amused, Cenred smirked. 'Do I not get to see your face? Meet you officially?'

The Knight nodded solemnly and bent down, removing the helmet slowly. All Cenred saw was a flurry of golden curls as the figure looked up, chestnut eyes boring into him.

'My name is Morgause.'

He wasn't what she'd expected. Morgause had envisioned a powerful leader, someone who could afford to be cowardly due to fearsome reputation. Someone who could protect her from Uther's purges until she was powerful enough to fight him herself. But Cenred wasn't anything like that. He was tall, but thin, no air of powerful persona that would command respect. Instead, she was almost repulsed by him, from the cocky edge to his voice, his self important actions. Looking up into his face, she noted the limp, greasy hair and chiselled features. His face almost redeemed him; she could imagine hordes of women swooning over his unshaven cheeks or jet eyes. But the glint in his black orbs, the glint of a man who has just been given an unexpected present, sent Morgause a wave of disgust that went to her very core.

She pleased him. Cenred chuckled to himself as he looked into Morgause's defiant face. Of all he had been expecting beneath the helmet, he had not anticipated the doe eyed beauty that stood before him. Even the ill fitting armour did not deter him. For he could not tear his gaze from her curved cheekbones, her golden hair that caught all the fire's glow, and the determined glint in her dark eyes, which sent a shiver down his spine.

'I see you're surprised.' Morgause raised an eyebrow mockingly.

'You misjudge me.' Cenred stood, and slowly circled Morgause's defiant stance. 'I expected nothing less, in fact. Please, take a seat.'

He motioned once again to the chair while, from the wooden table beside the fire in the corner, he took a flagon of blood red wine, and two glasses. Morgause sat, smirking slightly; as she took a glass from his hand, and watched him pour the crimson liquid in one fluid motion.

'You must do this for many women, Cenred.' Morgause took a sip slowly, tasting for any foreign flavour. At his quizzical expression, she laughed. 'I saved your life on that battlefield. I expect to be on first name terms after that.'

'Very well, Morgause.' Cenred chuckled lowly at Morgause's brave logic. He let a forefinger circle the edge of his glass. 'And I'm afraid I've never entertained anyone as enchanting as you.'

'You are as charming as they say, then?' She asked, raising her gaze to meet his. 'Though you must be aware of what else they say, of course.'

He laughed, a rough, almost dirty laugh. It seemed to inspire something in Morgause, a stirring deep inside her stomach. Something must have reflected in her face, for Cenred's eyes narrowed. 'Ah, but I mean what I say. You are most enchanting, Morgause. Literally, as well, from the display on the battlefield.' He felt himself laughing once again as he watched the blonde's dark eyes widen. 'You need not fear, as you said yourself, you saved my life. I am no Uther, I do not condemn heroes merely for the tactics they will use to secure victory. I have used murkier tactics than magic, I assure you. Though I doubt you would have been much use had you only had conventional warfare.'

'Conventional warfare?'

'Sword.' Cenred shrugged, a wicked glint in his eyes. 'Everyone knows women make appalling swordsmen.'

Morgause placed her empty goblet on the floor at her feet and stood, throwing a heavy metal glove at the ground before Cenred. She smirked, biting her lip playfully. 'Prove it then, mighty King Cenred. Beat me in armed combat. I challenge you.'

He looked at her inquisitively for a second, his cold, onyx eyes meeting her chestnut gaze, before she heard the clash of metal and realised he'd swung at her and, somehow, she'd blocked his attack. A ghost smile passed across his rough lips at every block she posed. Of which there were a considerable number, Morgause was not a bad warrior in battle. She was agile, matching his footwork as they circled, fast in defence. Her height gave her no advantage, of course, and the sword was obviously heavy to her slight frame. Still, she was giving Cenred a good fight, he chuckled, blocking his every strike, but never on the offensive herself.

A sudden sharp pain in his side. A small, ruby stain spreading through the rip in his leather shirt. His sword fell from his hand as he covered the wound, taking it away to see blood dripping from his fingers. He looked up to see Morgause's triumphant face, victory curving her lips cruelly.

'I believe you are the victor, Morgause.' Cenred spat disgustedly, falling back into his throne like chair with a curse.

'You should learn to be more elegant in defeat, Cenred,' Morgause reprimanded softly before kneeling beside his chair, almost at his feet. She ignored his pained smirk at her position. 'Turn, Cenred, or how can I help you?'

'Help me?'

He turned anyway, despite her silence, until he was facing the tent wall, and Morgause was able to peel back the torn leather and see the wound she inflicted clearly. She had to hold herself back from taunting the man's pitifully low pain threshold as she noted how shallow the injury actually was, despite the blood. He watched with an indifferent air as the blonde inspected his side with, what looked like, an amused smile. Cenred felt himself preparing to snap at her, snatch away from her cold touch and mocking lips, when he felt himself yelp, as a frightened puppy might. In his side, he could feel a thousand needles pricking his skin, and he looked in shock as Morgause's eyes flashed a brilliant gold, eerily reflected in the fire's burn. Then, no pain.

Morgause stood up elegantly, despite the oversized chain mail that still adorned her figure. Seeing Cenred's widened eyes, she purred, 'Surely you did not think I only used magic to save the losing army in battles?'

'But what did you do...?'

'I've sealed your wound, there will not even be a scar.' Morgause took her helmet from the floor where she'd left it and bowed to Cenred's throne slightly. 'And now, I must go.'

'Wait!' He stood quickly, amazed at the lack of pain despite what she'd just explained. His eyes glittered as though he'd just had a miraculous stroke of genius. 'Why not become my physician? I have no-one as talented as you in my court in both battle and medicine it appears. And you seek safety from Camelot, surely? Here, you would be out of Uther's control, and could earn your way by serving me.'

'A physician?'

'You aided me well.' Cenred motioned to the chair beside him as he sat back down, goblet in hand once more. 'Come, sit and we can discuss.' He smirked slightly at Morgause's sceptical expression. 'Of course, if you'd rather, we could go somewhere more private.'

Morgause gave a soft laugh as she turned to leave, briefly glancing over her shoulder at Cenred's lone figure. 'I am no harem, Cenred. It will take more than a single glass of wine to win me to your bed.'

And she was gone, the flutter of the tent doors the only sign of her presence.

King Uther sat also with goblet in hand, though he was sat at the head of a long oak table, a silver plate of food piled high before him. Beside him, a small blond boy was demonstrating with his knife the sword movements he had learnt that day, a wide grin on his face. On his other side, a dark haired girl sat silent, pushing food sullenly around her plate.

'Come, Morgana, smile!' Uther said, as he noted the young girl's face. 'You cannot learn to fight, it is not an occupation for young ladies.'

'I don't care, I want to be a knight.' She folded her arms stubbornly and Uther felt himself giving a bellowing laugh.

'You will not be saying that in a few years, trust me. You'll be walking round in long dresses happy to be Lady of Camelot...'

The Hall doors burst open, causing all three people to fall silent as a young soldier burst in, almost running to the King's side.

'What is the meaning of this?'

'My Lord, King Lot was defeated in battle yesterday by Cenred's army.' The man panted heavily, bowing weakly. Uther stood up in anger, slamming his goblet down furiously, an action that was copied by Arthur to his left.

'But he was outnumbered? I was told there was no chance food Cenred's victory. How did this happen?'

Uther's barrage of questions left the young soldier gasping for breath. Eventually, he whispered, low as though even the walls were listening, 'They say he was saved mid battle by magic, my Lord. And that he has, now, allied with a sorceress.'

'Magic?' Uther spat, infuriated. 'Cenred can only mean to use it as a disgusting weapon against me. Well, he will never succeed.' He turned to Morgana, who was looking up at him with large, peridot eyes. 'I was wrong, Morgana. You can learn to fight, you can start tomorrow. Everyone must be prepared to stamp out sorcery, whoever they are. It must be our priority.'

'You're going to let a girl learn to fight? So she can kill witches?' Arthur moaned, his unbroken, childish voice piercing to the ear. 'But that's what I want to do.'

'I don't want to kill sorcerers,' Morgana said meekly, staring down at her lap, where she entwined her hands in fear. 'I don't think magic is bad.'

Uther looked down at her, a cold glint in his pale eyes. 'Magic killed the late Queen, Morgana, Arthur's mother. It can only be used to cause harm. Sorcery is evil and all sorcerers should be punished for their unnatural crimes. Never forget that.'

I wanted to add the last section just to include the more well known characters, as they won't be a main feature for a few chapters yet, and show Uther's tyranny/ paranoia

I've also tried to shorten this chapter as I've noticed the last two were very long

Thank you for reading :)

(Reviews make me happy)

Mike 3207- That is exactly what I thought, I wanted to give Morgause a good reason for hating Uther, rather than just wanting his throne