Thank you for your patience! I'm getting really stuck!

Ch. 2 -

Anne was sure her brain had short-circuited. It was one thing that her father was wearing weird armor, but he was...he was king. No, not just that—he was King Arthur! The one from the stories she loved to hear about as a child. The whole time they had been his stories. And Uncle Rhys was Merlin, or Myrddin or whatever the name was. Uncle Reilly, once he met her, seemed to talk a mile a minute as he volunteered to help her to a room to clean up and rest. It was hard to keep up with since he seemed to tell her a plethora of little things, from the past winter to the latest dance his people had created, and a few info-bombs, like her father being king. And then just...kind of left her there...in the care of these women. They were great, really, they were, but the facts just tore through her brain, and she promptly fainted.

Arthur sat heavily in his chair at the great table. When Eire returned after taking his...their...their guest to her chambers, he prompted them for more details, but they didn't have much. Rhys refused to tell them what he had gleaned from her mind. It had worried Arthur for various reasons; what was he hiding from them and pushing into a person's mind as Rhys was notorious for doing was dangerous. Arthur knew that; once Rhys had mastered the technique it had become a go-to in interrogation, sometimes with terrible results. He'd felt Rhys was cocky about it; too eager to use it. Though it had proven effective against usurpers and followers of her. And Arthur had been on the receiving end of it; it wasn't always pleasant. It was even worse when he refused to share what he had seen. Just expected them to take his word at everything.

Alistair had surprised him by taking everything in stride. Was practically excited that they had a new member of their family. Arthur couldn't understand his brother sometimes. In fact, he distinctly remembered growing up, himself toddling around their shared little hut with mother, his elder sibling was not known for his kindness. While not blatantly cruel, he didn't hesitate to berate or fight any of them. Arthur hated when mother set Alistair to be his watcher for the day. His brother was an arse; seemed to resent having to watch him anytime. He knew his brother would protect him, but he also knew his brother was not gentle. At all. Arthur grimaced; stretching his sore neck from the headlock earlier. Alistair didn't seem the type to want family, save mother, more occasionally Rhys, but Arthur was sure Alistair resented him. So why was he suddenly so happy for a niece? A niece that was apparently borne of his least favored brother?

His daughter. Arthur had trouble holding that fact. He never imagined...never dared. He was...too young, even at centuries old. Arthur caught is reflection in his goblet, seeing the youthful face staring back. The girl looked older than he was! She looked closer to Rhys in physical age. She looked more like Rhys in general, he thought, souring. But even through time, he couldn't have possibly...Rhys was older and thus seemed the more likely candidate to be able to sire a nation; his magic was well established. Arthur may be king, but Mryddin was the most sought advisor. And she was a nation...but from where? When? It just didn't seem possible.

Siring a nation, as his mother had done, was a dream. A dream he thought never to be in his reach. The world was too dangerous now. Morganna may have been defeated, but her influence still plagued the land. It was the most precarious of times. What could they do?

"So, we have to send her back?" Eire was leaning against the hands propped on the table, already several glasses on ale in. Arthur scowled at him, but the man only winked in return and poured himself another goblet-full. Honestly, why was he still here? Didn't he have an island to get back to? At least Alistair and Rhys were making themselves useful. Save riding out a few messages and scouting with Alistair, the third son in their little family, hardly did anything. A fact he profusely denied. You just can't glean at all the work I do! Just ask Rhys! Its errand after errand! I do many things! Not sitting there like a log like you! Arthur rolled his eyes, but looked to Rhys anyway who only nodded, all serious.

"Is that even possible?" Arthur couldn't help but wonder. Time was a forbidden magic to them. In all their lessons it had been stressed over and over to steer from it because one risked the very cosmos with it. And now to find out, according to the girl's story which Arthur still had trouble reconciling, they'd tried casting it already. But it sent her further back. So... they'd failed. Casting dangerous magic, siring a child; Arthur still couldn't swallow it. It just couldn't be possible. Perhaps she wasn't his, really. Maybe she was one of his brothers', but wouldn't she have known who her father was? Was that something Rhys was keeping from them? Because wouldn't Arthur have been able to sense a child of his, as their mother had always been able to sense them? The more Arthur thought on that line though...if she was actually one of his brother's children...did they...did they reject her? And he was the one to take her in?

Would his brothers be capable of such cruelty?

The shortest answer would be yes. They all had that streak. Had to cultivate it for the past war. All manner of dark magic to survive the onslaught she wrought. Power mad hag!

But could they do such a thing to one of their own? Arthur couldn't imagine it so.

"It shall not be easy, that much is certain, but we have no choice than to try."

"And what if we kill her? She looked as if she barely survived her last trip, and that was us trying to help her about."

"I have an idea, perhaps. But either way we must try. She cannot stay here or she really will, eventually, die. This is not her time, and the cosmos will try to right itself. She would be the one to pay the price." Rhys' words, while they rang true, still made Arthur's stomach churn with unease. This was all too strange. He couldn't imagine himself as a father, not now, though he knew he would eventually wish to be one, but it didn't stop the worry over her predicament. And it came with in intense guilt. He'd been ready to cut her down. Heaven help him; what if he had? Was the universe tormenting him? Was it because he had Excaliber? They Lady of the Lake had warned him that his sword would serve him well in the pursuit of justice and good for his kingdom, but it could exact a heavy price should he ever stray from his duty; if he ever sullied the enchanted sword. The sword's magic would backfire and he would be cursed forever.

He been anxious when he felt the spike in magic, but he couldn't identify it like all the others he felt. This past spike, while he did not sense anything evil from it, it did feel wholly familiar. And it unsettled him. Morganna had once been a great friend to him; she knew his magic. Perhaps she had learned to imitate it in order to catch him off guard. It was why he was wary at first. It had been a very messy war, but she'd lost her magic and fled. She could be acting through another magic user. Hence, they still hunted her. For she would stop at nothing to destroy the brothers.

But Arthur wouldn't let her. No, he was King now. And he would protect his kingdom.

In the present:

Rhys let out a tired sigh and sat heavily in a plush armchair of their hotel room. This was one hardship after the other. Disasters atop of the other. Arthur had not woken since the spell went awry, but thankfully was still there with them. His mind had not been lost. But he seemed to be stuck in some manner of terrible dream; one which Rhys could not penetrate. Arthur's own magic, which was thrumming so potently, stifled the room. It placed a very firm barrier around his brother's mind and Rhys could not enter. Was his magic protecting him?

It was hard to figure. Perhaps his magic sensed the impending danger of an open portal, or that it was being pushed to its limits, and thus protected itself and simply shut down. Arthur had always been the rather paranoid type; figures his magic would manifest similarly. He ran his fingers over his eyes and they squeezed shut from a coming headache. Reilly had sustained an actual injury, a stray blast when Arthur's magic reacted, had managed to give him a pretty good slice on his side. Luckily, Alistair moved fast to staunch the wound, which would require stitches. Rhys glanced over to see his Irish brother, recently returned from the local A & E, passed out on a sleeper sofa. Alistair was probably smoking.

Damn it all. They had been so close. Rhys had felt her energy and then suddenly it had been snatched away...snatched. Interesting choice of word, Rhys thought. He'd been so concerned for his brothers that he didn't think over the feeling of what happened to his niece. He felt a little guilty about that, but he'd focused on the more immediate threat which was a violently collapsing portal. Portals traveled through the ether, and very few things could simply exist within it. The energy was so chaotic one could be torn to pieces. That's why in travel one had to be careful, but to hover there, to exist there was practically impossible. Some dark creatures could manage for a time, but even they had to emerge eventually.

So, what could've have snatched her up? Or was she pulled back to the past she was in—no, there were no new memories. Rhys had threaded his hands together and settled himself to think on it.

The ether was an in-between space, full of energies. In theory, they can manifest in many different ways. A not-quite-sentience. Magic was natural; instinctual in nature. The most primordial of thought-processes if one could even call it that. It was why such things as the elements could be wielded, but never subjugated. But it could, technically, take any form. With enough intent, magic could take form. With enough emotion infused in it, magic could manifest into something akin to a being unto us and act accordingly; albeit temporarily. It was possible...in theory. But for such a thing...the magic would have to be incredibly powerful... or at least incredibly potent. Was this an attack? Was the whole thing an attack? After all, Arthur is trapped in his mind; Reilly was nearly sliced in half.

Alistair had sat before Rhys and flicked the Welshman's forehead to get him to open his eyes. Rhys gave a tired glare to his younger brother who just looked angry. But that was Alba, always. He was a man of action. When things were wrong and he wanted to right it, he expected a goal, or target, for him to attack. Having neither at the moment, with the two youngest brothers down and he had nothing to show for it, no token or herald of vengeance, he felt useless. And he hated it, so he just stewed. Arthur constantly berated Alistair for his more hands on, and sometimes violent, approaches to their problems. Rhys, however, had always found it rather endearing, if not a little exasperating at times. But Alba's heart was always in the right place, so Rhys always forgave it.

Rhys was the long thinker. And he knew it agitated all his siblings who, even as small children, expected him to have the answers right away. He was the eldest and took the title seriously, but for all his vast knowledge he didn't always have all the answers. He wasn't meant to; no one was. Not even Mother. But he tried his best anyway. So, he patiently waited for Alistair to break the silence with whatever troubled him, aside from the obvious.

"Where did we go wrong?" Alistair was trying to keep his voice in check, but it was a struggle and made him want to smoke another cigarette, but he knew it wouldn't help.

"We didn't necessarily do anything wrong."

"Then what?"

"Portals are inherently unstable, you know that. All precautions could be taken, but it does not guarantee anything."

"Aye the portal collapsed, but there was something else, wasn't there." At that Rhys raised an intrigued eyebrow to which Alistair glared, "You're not the only smart one, you know. Just because the other two are morons doesnae mean that I am." his teeth ground. Rhys just smiled, amused, when he heard his younger sibling mutter arse.

"Something pulled her back; you're right. As to what, I am unsure. And where she is, I do not know. I was hoping that perhaps one of us would experience a vision, but thus far I have not seen anything." Alistair sighed and shook his head in the negative. "I'm so sorry, Alistair, but I'm afraid there isn't much we can do yet. It is still too dangerous to approach Stonehenge, but when we can we must try to see what we can find; perhaps some clue." Alistair just looked so upset that Rhys couldn't help but apologize.

"Do you think she's alright?" And this is why Rhys always forgave his rather rough sibling. Because he cared; he cared very much.

"We can only hope at this point, and take comfort that she has always been strong and notorious for surviving the bizarre and the dire."

"Aye, a Kirkland through and through. She was borne into greatness." the Scotsman smiled. He loved his niece, by virtue of being blood, but also because she was so different. So endearingly strange; so lively and defiant, a fighter, it made her a joy to be around. He was her favorite uncle; a point of pride for him. Had Alistair ever sired a nation, and heaven knows he had tried, he wondered if they'd have been like her. Bright-eyed and adventurous. He hoped they would've been. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and saw Rhys smiling, a little sadly, to him.

"What a world that would've been, brother."

"To be a father." he nodded and Rhys stood, hand still on his shoulder, leaning forward to touch foreheads, because hugging was awkward. And pulled away, hand squeezing, before excusing himself.

Sometimes, Alistair thought sadly, sometimes life wasn't fair.

In the past:

Anne awoke to fretting ladies who were relieved that she finally came to. A...doctor...of sorts had been fetched and tried to have her drink some manner of tonic that smelled rancid. The old man left with a grim set to his mouth when she refused, and the ladies fretted more. The helped her anyway. She was bathed, dressed, and in between every moment, food was readily on hand. Anne could only take In a few bites at a time anyway. But at the very least, she had to concede the best part was the clothing they gave her. No corset. None. Nada. And it was glorious. There were several layers and some itchy stockings, but she would suffer it to avoid a corset. Instead, the final layer of dress was fitted and the sides and sleeves were tugged tightly with string and tied. Simple. Kept the layers in place. And her shoes were leather, fur-lined slippers. They tied her hair back in a loose braid and lovely ribbons. The earlier bath had been mixed with milk and herbs that made her skin feel soft and sweet smelling; loosening her muscles and seemed to make breathing easier. Whatever herbs they were, they had to have been medicinal. Anne could get behind that. She had a collection of 'tea-bath' sachets back home.

She was escorted back to the massive stone room she was first taken to, feeling slightly better. And now that she could see and process much more clearly, she saw that it was a throne room, separated by only a row of tall pillars that hold a second story walkway. It opened into another massive room which the ladies were leading her to. Filled with only a round table...no, the round table! Anne almost tripped. Her family members were all sitting, talking animatedly until she was escorted in. They all stood, giving respectful bows that made her squirm a little before giving an awkward curtsey. But it was Alistair that approached, tugging her towards a seat between himself and her uncle, Rhys, who smiled kindly, and pushed her chair in for her. Her father, however, stiffly sat and tried to appear calm.

"Are you feeling better, child?" Rhys' voice was soft.

"A little, thank you."

"We were just discussing possible plans to send you home. We must do so for your sake. However, therein lies an issue, you see."

"Oh?"

"We've only just been at war; been recovering as we have been to cleanse the lands. Our magic is not where it should be."

"...I see. I apologize for the trouble."

"Oh no, no need. Tis' not your fault, my dear. We shall aid you in this. And of course, you are welcome to stay here, take time to rest and gather your strength."

"I...I don't feel much of my old strength, to be sure. In that other time, it felt like it was only a portion, getting smaller every day."

"It is unfortunately not a good sign, I'm afraid. You are not meant to be here, after all. Which is why we must do this and with haste. The longer you are here, the weaker you will become."

"Uncle Rhys...am I...Am I dying?" her question seemed to pull the air from the room and the space became despairingly still. Reilly seemed to give a small hiss and glance towards a wall to avoid looking at her. "I suppose the silence answers that." It made sense now. The heavy, solemnity before they tried to send her back the first time. She was dying. And if her experience with time travel through portals had shown her anything, it was deadly. They were worried that she would die. She was worried too.

"So then," she cleared her throat, still trying to wrap her mind around her own mortality, "How may help you in this?"

"You have no magic, child. I saw as much." Rhys continued.

"You mean I have no magic like all of you. This does not mean that I am useless. Surely, I can at least try."

"We would not ask you to strain yourself." Arthur finally spoke. But before Anne could respond an older man, briskly enter the room and bowed low.

"My king, my lords..." he paused when he caught sight of Anne, looking surprised, "erm, my lady...One of our scouts believes he has spied a band of soldiers, trying to maneuver through the borders."