Thought I'd get this in before my flight back from Seattle to Cali. Its official-I am now a homeowner. (Its exciting and scary at the same time!)

Enjoy this next chapter guys! (I didn't have time to proofread, sorry about errors!)

Ch. 5

In the present:

If Rhys wasn't so tired, he might've actually laughed at what transpired before him. They'd found Arthur trudging along the dirt path to the stones and called to him, but their youngest ignored them. In all fairness, they really did try to get his attention, but...well. His younger, Scottish brother had decided rather quickly that he'd had enough, and to Rhys' fright leapt from their car. The car wasn't going fast, but it startled him nonetheless. And Alistair, without warning, save a long and very loud string of every insult he could muster towards the Englishman, had bodily flung himself against Arthur, knocking the both of them into the dirt. They'd landed in a tangle of limbs with only a massive upheaval of dust to mark their descent.

Arthur, it seemed, had come to his senses, after his ungraceful face-plant into earth. He squirmed under the massive weight of his brother, practically screeching in upset. What stopped Rhys short, having parked and abandoned Reilly to the car, was Arthur's manner of speech. Arthur had turned and grunted against his larger sibling, hands shoving at shoulders or tugging at hair. Alistair it seemed hadn't quite picked up on it yet, shouting his own arsenal of curse words. Still, it had been quite a while since Rhys had heard such an accent and pattern of speech.

"Mryddin! Tell this mongrel to let me up at once!" Arthur shouted, causing the Welshman to start in surprise. And this time, Rhys did laugh. He laughed hard. "How dare you, brother. 'Tis no way to treat a monarch!"

"What're yeh goin' on about, yeh ravin' lunatic!" Alistair had managed to worm an arm around Arthur's neck and pulled him into a headlock, grunting as sharp elbows attacked his gut.

"Albion, you..." Rhys snickered, "You are out of your time, little brother." It took Rhys some effort to school his voice into something this Arthur would recognize. The moment wouldn't last long, he knew. Arthur magic was fluctuating severely. No doubt this was only a...blended image of sorts. His different personas, different presents, at their given times, were...well, all present at once. Or rather, this particular past was experiencing his present as well as their current present.

"Wot?" That's seemed to stop both his brothers still situated on the ground.

"Tell me quickly, how is your daughter?"

"Tired, weak...but she is well...that is," Arthur's brows furrowed, "She is...quite upset at the moment, and I...but 'tis not quite myself...Mryddin, what is happ—"Arthur blinked, and Rhys sensed his magic still. "What the devil—? What's going—Alistair! Release me this instant!"

"Jesus. I had hoped to never experience that time again." Reilly had said from his perch on the car. "Monarch, my arse. You were right awful. I mean, you still are, but...ugh! That time was the worst. And you, Rhys, just continued to indulge him." He watched as his two brothers stood and dusted themselves off. Arthur chose to ignore the Irishman for the time. He'd get him back, and Alistair as well, later for the indignity they'd caused him. After, anyway. After he figured out what had happened.

"Rhys, what has happened? What is going on?"

"Back in the car first, Arthur. We shall discuss it on the way back to the Inn. Think we could all do with some food...and fresh clothes." Though he would not give any explanation until they'd reached the Inn, chuckling at Arthur's embarrassment at the staff seeing his ruffled, dirt covered appearance. He gifted over his handkerchief, both as a gesture of good will and as a tease to which his youngest sibling all but snatched to wipe at his dirty, but still flushed face. At least, Rhys thought, this explained the migraine. Memories of such a faraway past would be hard to discern, unlike the memories from their exploration years. And Rhys' memory recall abilities were unmatched by anyone he knew. And goodness, his little, spunky niece had traveled very far this time.

Even so, everything made sense now. All of it. Including why this was all happening. It was not good news, to be sure. But they weren't the same people they were in any of their pasts. They were older, wiser and more united than they'd ever been since that time. What their mother had always wanted for them. Had Mother known about this future? They were calmer, more mature, most of the time, and were all the stronger than any would realize. Having children to care for tended to have such an effect.

It was their advantage now. And one she arrogantly failed to account for.

Arthur felt dizzy, but he tried to ignore the nauseous feeling that settled into his stomach. He had to, for there were more pressing matters to attend. For one, his voicemail was full with mostly messages from the Frog, he was getting impatient of Arthur's lack of response, and Arthur shot a quick text telling him to sod off. A few messages of concern were from Matthieu, and Arthur had to acknowledge he really owed the lad for keeping the vultures at bay as best he could. And then there were many voicemails from an irate Texas. Arthur sighed, begrudgingly listening to them, if only for the sake of professionalism and his daughter's fondness for the rambunctious boy. At least neither government saw fit to allow him to travel and search for her.

He couldn't understand how she could stand to be in the Texan's presence for very long; honestly, it was exhausting for Arthur. Still, even Arthur had to concede that he kept his little girl safe during their bizarre adventures. His dislike of the boy was his own burden, really. It was a lack of patience...and probably the boy's connection to the Spaniard. At least the boy didn't badger him nearly as much as the Frog. In fact, their interactions were quite minimal, for which Arthur was grateful as he just didn't have the same energy anymore. And in those times, if the boy didn't grate on his nerves, he was as easy-going as his Australian kin; just as energetic, but infinitely crass and opinionated. Probably not the boy's fault considering he'd spent his formative and influencing years around Antonio. Poor thing.

Arthur sat heavily in a chair, finally deciding to at least send Texas a long text, explaining his regrets at the lack of communication, but not actually explaining the situation. Simply that, America was...ill and in need of very special, very specific care, and could not receive visitors, doctor's orders, until further notice. The recent incidents with the UK brothers was...purely coincidental. Yes, trouble with tourist attractions and... miscreants. And that as soon as Anne was able, Arthur would personally ensure that she contact Texas first. He'd gave his word. And that would have to be enough, for now. The boy would need to trust him; trust that he'd take the very best care of Anne, as he'd always had. Tried.

And the other matter, was his eldest sibling's conclusions to this whole mess. It was absurd. It seemed almost impossible, and yet...his magic was acting on its own. Most unusual. And the visions it had granted him; of a time, long since gone. Distant and shrouded in mystery and legends; just as they'd planned all those centuries ago. He never imagined that past would ever resurface. After all, why now?

But he had said that she'd found a way. Something they'd feared more in the distant past and all but forgotten now. That'd she'd use Time itself to exact revenge was foreboding and cunning. But what exactly she had planned and how it involved his child...no one could answer, despite Rhys' confidence in their magic. Rhys insisted that they were much better prepared now than they ever were then. He supposed that was true. They had not fought each other...sort of...in a long, long time. And their magic had indeed matured.

It made his intuition burn in anticipation. Something terrible was coming, Well, it heralded her return, to be sure, but...damn it all; how? How as she planning to attack them?

"Are you feeling better?" Rhys sat next to him on the sofa.

"Not really."

"She won't harm little Anne; we won't allow it. Past or present, Albion. She is with us, where she is safest. Morganna can't harm her."

"As if that were an absolute truth. All it would take is one distraction, one simple turn in a mindless wander, and then Anne would no longer be safe with us, would she?"

"I don't think we'd let Anne out of our protection, especially during that time."

"And what could she possibly want with Anne? I hate to say it but there are far easier ways to kill a nation, so I don't think that's it."

"Arthur, what is your intuition telling you?"

"It has to do with Anne. It does. And for some reason it requires Anne to be there...in the past."

"Then why did Anne fall twice? And that'd do is—"

"Weaken her." Arthur sat up straighter, "Anne is...insanely powerful. To the point of being ridiculous. The fact she's survived this length of time in the past is truly amazing and unusual."

"Or it could be a fluke of magic."

"That witch wouldn't make such a mistake."

"Remember, Albion, we sealed her magic away. Remember that? If she were acting through another, then maybe, it did not happen the way she wanted."

"No. This is exactly what she wants. She wants Anne weak, but for what?"

"She'd have to be acting through another. It would explain why the fluctuations would be out of her control. She cannot control another's magic, not unless she completely—"

"Completely possessed the magic user in question." Alistair had said from the door, startling the other two, and Reilly looked disturbed behind him.

"But wouldn't that require her to be—be...sort of...eaten?" Reilly looked sick.

"Only her heart, Eire." Rhys answered, "And not necessarily literally."

"Because that makes it so much better..."

"You don't think she'd try to take over Anne's...is what she has magic?" Rhys continued.

"It is unlike ours, to be sure. Anne wouldn't call it magic; she never did."

"No, she lops it all under science."

"Whatever she calls it; it's her magic." Arthur insisted, peering at his phone when it pinged an incoming message. Another message from Texas, but at least beneath the boy's threat, he seems to be giving me the benefit of the doubt...for now.

"Point is, we need to get her back to her proper time, as soon as we can."

"Tricky with all the interference, though." Reilly spoke next.

"I may or may not have a plan."

"May or may not?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"My past self has created a message for me to find. Rather interesting, really; despite how sketchy it came in. But in a dream-state, I'd packed one of my old journals. In it, my past self had left a message. I've apparently been carrying it for weeks in my bag, tucked away until I remembered to find it."

"Oh? And what did it say, eh?"

"A coded message that I must decipher." Alistair grumbled at his eldest brother, but Rhys only shrugged. "Perhaps I was worried that none of our secrets or messages were safe from prying eyes. It will take me only a short while to translate what I've written, only because it has been so long since I've had to use this particular dialect; it no longer exists, you see."

"Let's not waste any time then." Arthur concluded.

In the Past:

Anne had found herself rarely left alone. There was always someone with her and today it was her Uncle Reilly. He seemed keen to chatter the day away using her as reason to skip his duties. Anne thought it was hilarious. For all her Uncle was an easy-going sort of person, he was as responsible as his kin, completing his tasks before relaxing. Perhaps it was age. Perhaps all at this age, semi-immortal or not, tended to value their free-time over responsibility. Well, except her father, who seemed to always be a responsible type, even if his brand of humor in this time was more apparent. It was nice, however. This time she accompanied him through the gardens where he pointed out the various "secret" passages, which had led where, be it exits and entrances to the castle, other gardens, and the one that led to the dark forests. That came with a warning; while not forbidden, she should not enter without one of them with her. The forests were full of fae, ones that would spirit her away, and other dangerous things.

Anne didn't think she'd venture into the forest, she tired so easily now that hiking, as much as she loved to, was too much for her low energy reserves. It was like having the flu; the fatigued, achy feeling ever present, down to the bones. But the intrigue was very much there. An itch in the back of her mind, calling out. It was annoying enough that she wanted to march over and shout for it to shut the hell up; her mind was busy enough without an extra voice to make it louder. But for all her avoidance of anything supernatural, because it was damn scary, she wasn't a moron. She'd seen the horror flicks.

You don't follow the voice into the creepy dark woods. Especially if you are a blonde.

That's a sure way to get yourself killed. That's how the idiots in the movies die. Always. And blondes always had the worst luck. So nope. Not doing it. No matter how insistent and loud the voice at the entrance to the forest drowned out her Irish uncle's explanation of dark creatures he'd encountered. Can he not hear the voice? Anne glanced his way. It didn't appear that he did, or he was very good at ignoring it. Anne shrugged. It wouldn't be the first time she'd heard ominous voices or sounds come out of a place.

Her nation was full of foreboding things; restless spirits and ghosts, places of power that drew in the strange and frightening. The lands had so many spirits, ancient and young, that moved freely throughout the trees. The trick was to not get on the bad sides of these things. Treat these sacred places with respect, or avoid them all together, and you could generally avoid being cursed by something with a chip on its shoulder.

And there seemed to be so many different creatures here. They reminded her of the little fairies that milled about her father's ship during her first trip, but these were different, and they kept to the shadows. Watching. Silent. But they meant her no harm, her Uncle Alistair had told her when she'd pointed them out. They enjoy the potent energies of Camelot, he said. It was rare to have so many personifications in one place after all; especially magically-inclined ones.

It made her wonder then, why she had never spied these creatures before. It was so very strange. As a small child, when her father carried her aboard his ships to explore them, she didn't remember encountering the creatures her father told her about. Didn't find any in his home. Or the Kirkland castle. Didn't catch too late any little creatures at any world meetings. The only things Anne had ever been able to see were the nature spirits that lived with trees, seen Coyote and Raven, had terrors of old war ghosts that didn't have anywhere else to go. Not her father's magical friends.

So why can she see them now?

Was it because of her time travel?

Was it because of her being in the past? It was certainly a question for when she returned. Her father had so wanted her to see the things he could see. Maybe now, having seen them, even if it is only temporary, he could tell her about them. At the very least, she procured an empty packet of parchment that she'd meticulously bound into a little book and sketched the little creatures she'd seen. Her drawings were always a little too flat and scientific to be considered an art, but if she could somehow carry this wither her, well, it would be a memory for them all.

If she survived this.

Anne tried not to think of it as often as she could, trying to distract herself with other matters, such as her research on time with Uncle Rhys, but it was always there. A dark shadowed form that pulled on her shoulder as if to draw her back into the veil.

You're dying, it would croak. And she knew that it must be acknowledged as her current reality, but…Ah, but, dying, truly dying had never been so close before. Is this what humans felt everyday; those that acknowledged their own mortality? Death was imminent for all creatures, even them, but for a nation, time was as relative as it was slow. Especially because they could die over and over and still come back strong. They were near immortal.

Humans didn't have that luxury. From when they are born, growing, they are also dying. Some sooner than others. And just as they live once, they die once. There was no coming back from death as a nation would.

And Anne knew, if she died now, there would be no coming back. There would be no travel to her time. She would never see her siblings again, she'd not see her uncles, and there would be no Texas, no Molossia to greet her in their funny ways.

And there would be no Arthur. She would not see him, her father, as she knew him, ever again. She would be denied the joy and comfort of his hold, his words, and heavy hand upon her head to tell her, yet again, that everything would be alright.

This would be it. Over, if she wasn't careful.

And suddenly, there were so many things she wanted to do again. Camping with Tex, gardening with Molossia, surfing with Aus and Zea. Videogames with Peter. It had been forever since she'd been pub crawling in Ireland. Christmas with everyone! That morning of breaking the crackers and wearing the paper crown; that was always Father's house because it certainly wasn't an American thing.

And she'd promised, promised, Mattie that they'd spend a week together before all the holiday rush. They couldn't decide what to do. Matt thought a trip to the mountains (Snowdonia, eh?) would be good, but Anne knew he had yet to experience the joys of Disneyworld. A travesty, really. Who doesn't love Disney? She had Brave themed mouse ears! She still needed to show them off to her Uncle Alistair, who would snort and tease, but secretly loved anything she did that was even remotely Scottish.

"Lass?" Anne jolted from the touch on her shoulder.

"Pardon me; what did you say?" she blinked.

"Nothing, really. Lost ya for a second though, didn't I?" Reilly gave a lopsided grin.

"I'm so sorry. My mind doesn't usually wander so much." Her uncle only shrugged and kept walking forward, when the voice from the dark woods became stronger; insistent. Anne glanced in its direction and tugged in her uncle's sleeve. "Do you not hear that?"

"Hear what?" he looked over.

"That voice coming from the forest."

"Voice from…from there?" he pointed, looking pensive, but Anne didn't notice.

"Yes…it's…"

"What is it saying?"

"I…I think it's asking something."

"Oh?"

"It's saying…whose blood upon the stone…has wrought …ye….higher…..shall…shall reap ye of all…I can't make out the last, but it sounds like joy." Anne startled as her Reilly suddenly tugged her towards the castle without another word.

OoooH, scary! And I have no idea where I am going with this. I have officually gone way off course from the original plan of this story, but I hope you guys are enjoying it!