Hey everyone! New chapter! Wrote it during a power outage with so spellchecks. Got my covid vaccination (part 1) and damn my arm is sore!

Anyways!

Enjoy!

Ch. 9:

In the Past:

Alistair awoke sometime in the early hours of the morning, to see Anne curled in a chair next to the bed, small hand clutching his, and a light snore sounding from her. He gave a small smirk in amusement, but also couldn't deny how touched he felt that she must have stayed by him after he collapsed. Damned blade. He was caught off guard by a puppet. A puppet! Reilly will never let him hear the end of it; the bastard. A noise to the other side of the bed caught his attention to reveal Arthur, blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and yawning. Seeing the brat-king there was a bit of a surprise, but…The Scotsman sighed, quietly chiding himself for appreciating his younger brother's vigil. He'd always known that he was Arthur's favorite brother.

"Any pain, Alistair?" Arthur asked.

"No. M'fine." He shifted, not breaking Anne's hold.

"Try not to move. I'll call the healers to check the wound."

"Stop fussin'. I said I'm fine."

"You were poisoned, Alistair."

"I was stabbed."

"By a poisoned blade, halfwit."

"And look, I survived."

"Thanks to the guards and Reilly's quick thinking." Alistair scowled hard. Reilly not only knew he'd been nearly killed by a puppet, but the obnoxious arse saved his hide as well. Damn it all. There would be no living with Reilly after this.

"You should let yourself be seen." A sleepy voiced floated by. The brothers turned to see a groggy looking Anne slowly stretch on her chair. "You still look very pale."

Alistair sighed heavily and sank into the pillows with a wave of his hand. Anne slipped from her chair and shuffled to the door to call for the healers. He'd watched her careful gait with a frown. Her energy was so very low, despite having just rested. A glance to Arthur saw the same conclusion. They were running out of time.

In the present:

It was Arthur that was nominated to meet up with Texas. Nominated, Arthur's teeth clenched, more like forced. Volunteered. The Englishman took a moment to breathe; reminded himself that Texas was, somehow, important to bringing his daughter home. Though, he couldn't fathom how. Maybe he was a sacrifice, Arthur allowed the musing to entertain him for a moment. Then he just felt guilty. It wasn't Texas' fault they were in this mess. And it wasn't Texas' fault to be born a child of the Spaniard. Stupid Antonio with his stupid quips and stupid armada…

"Why is there so much rain, old man?" Arthur was jolted from his thoughts by a slightly damp Texan.

"Climate." Was the deadpan reply. Tex only rolled his eyes and dropped his overnight bag at his feet.

"Where is she, English? And no excuses this time." Arthur dreaded this, and noted that his brothers did as well which is probably why they sent Arthur alone to do it. Wankers.

"I will tell you, but I fear it will be difficult to believe."

"Try me."

"Very well," he stood straighter, hands clasped behind his back, as if he were giving a briefing to his troops again. He was, at the very least, pleased to see the cowboy also fall back to military training, standing straight and giving undivided attention to a superior officer. Arthur approved. This was a serious matter after all, and the boy would need to comply with their orders.

"Anne has fallen victim to a spell gone awry. It has transported her back in time; twice. We had attempted earlier to retrieve her, but it unfortunately failed. We will be attempting again very soon." Arthur gauged the younger man's reaction, waiting for the disbelief or accusatory rage, but Texas only blinked in confusion. "It…it was magic; a curse to be exact…" he added.

"And are you the one who did it?"

"I was not." Arthur grit out. Why did everyone think he was out to get America? He would never! Never do anything to harm her; his child. "It is the workings of another witch. One from a long time ago that we'd thought had been long since dead."

"Some old witch…came after Anne…just like that…"

"Not against Anne, though she is a major part of this accursed plan. It is an attack against me, against my family, and Anne being a part of this family became a target. The witch, Morganna, is a mortal enemy of mine. She promised revenge after we bound her magic. It appears she is making good on that promise…in a way I never anticipated."

"So…how do we fix this?"

"I—I must say…I expected you to not believe me."

"Why lie about it? And, honestly, I can't say I fully believe it either, but I'm here to get Anne back home. If that means time travel and fighting some witch then, fine. Whatever. We do what we gotta do. But if you are lying, you will regret it. It ain't just me you gotta worry about, but all of America. Believe me when I say, Anne is the nice one of the bunch." Arthur pondered that a moment. He'd seen his little Anne in various battles; she was powerful and sometimes ruthless. She just ploughed through the conflicts with such destruction in her wake. To say she was the "nice one" seemed…an oversimplification. And slightly foreboding when regarding the other personifications of the Americas. Arthur has only met a few of them, formally, and only momentarily. He remembered how strong Alaska was, Hawaii was cunning, and had interactions with many of the First Nations – they were a force not to be underestimated. Many were about his age or older. But Anne had unusual strength. Insane strength and had positioned herself as the lead and Arthur had made assumptions as to how that came to be. Perhaps he had been wrong.

"I swear to you this is no lie."

"Great. So, what're we gonna do about it?"

"Come with me and my brother may shed some better light upon the matter. I daresay this misadventure has been enlightening for us all." Arthur turned, surprised by this encounter, to lead the Texan back to the hotel rooms the brother's shared.

"Can I ask…apart from the lying bit, what made you believe my story? I thought you might've taken much longer to convince."

"Why? Because the magic stuff?"

"Well…yes."

"I don't touch the stuff, but that don't mean I don't believe in it or anything. Seen some crazy stuff out there. I don't understand it and would rather never have to, but it's there."

"I see." But Texas simply shrugged and followed Arthur into the room. Reilly was furiously typing on his phone, while his other brothers poured over the translated notebook, pointing to key points of the script.

"Find anything else new?" the question held trepidation in Arthur's tone, but knowing was better than not. Texas peered over his shoulder curiously.

"Rhys thinks we will need to push ourselves thru rather than pull." His older brother griped.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we cannot pull Morganna here. It won't work."

"Why would we—hold on, you haven't explained the plan yet."

"To you."

"And to Texas!" Arthur pointed behind himself. The younger man simply waved.

"Right. Welcome, Texas. Have a seat. How much has the idiot told you about our situation?" Alistair nodded sharply to their newest companion. Texas sat heavily on a corner of the bed and crossed his arms.

"Only that some old witch-lady who has it in for you guys has kidnapped Anne to the past."

"That's it?" Reilly snorted from his spot.

"There's more?" And Alistair only scoffed.

"Aye. This witch is from a long time ago and was very powerful."

"And you won against her, right?" Alistair nodded to Texas before continuing.

"And we thought that'd be the end of it, but it seems she has managed to regain some magical ability and has placed a curse aimed towards Arthur. We didn't notice because this curse has been, apparently, stewing for centuries."

"And Anne got caught in the crosshairs."

"We thought so at first, but no. Anne is very much a part of the curse."

"Oh…kay…How does Anne fit into all this then? She's not a witch or wizard or anything. I mean, she's a fan of Harry Potter…dragged me to all the movies…" Reilly chuckled in the background.

"Anne has magic." Rhys interrupted. "It might not manifest as it would for us, but she does have it."

"Because she is a Kirkland." Reilly piped in.

"Jones, you mean."

"Kirkland." Arthur snapped.

"Point is, she does have it being a descendent of our clan. Last name notwithstanding." Alistair stated firmly, if only to keep Arthur from lashing out. And Rhys nodded in approval.

"And it is because she has magic and is our kin that she was a target."

"Why didn't ya'll just say all this earlier?" Texas griped.

"Think about it, lad. We should tell our human governments that there is a rogue witch trying to assassinate two nations centuries ago through allegedly non-existent time travel?" And Texas begrudgingly had to concede how that disaster would play out. There were just some things you didn't tell people. Human government officials especially. Not if you wanted to see the light of day again.

"So…what? Witch lady can't attack you directly. She has to go after Anne?"

"She means to absorb Anne's magic and then likely attempt to destroy us."

"You can do that?"

"Unfortunately."

"But no one can beat Anne." Texas was starting to get anxious. If some witch got the drop on Anne, then things were pretty bad. And the witch had to be pretty strong. "And how do you just take someone's magic?" Texas didn't like how the silence suddenly became deafening. No one would catch his eye. It was like getting the news before the Alamo and then staring at said enemy forces beyond the wall, the knowing things were going to go south that day. The dread. It was a cold feeling. Like your toes sinking into icy dirt after a tornado. Texas wished he had his rosary on him, but he'd left it in the bottom of his overnight bag that he really didn't want to have to dig through. Especially with others watching and seeing his weakness. Wasn't religious per say; not anymore, but it was lucky. And a comfort, nonetheless. Not that he'd tell Spain that. Ever.

"There are several ways." Rhys said after a fashion, brows furrowed and mouth grim. "But it involves the consumption of the victim; in part or whole."

"I—what?!"

"You have to eat your victim. Particularly the heart." Texas felt his stomach clench hard and bile rise in his chest. He vaguely felt someone place a heavy hand on his shoulder with a command to breathe, but he shook it off and bee lined for the door.

Cannibalism. Texas thought days like that were over. Witnessing things like that as a little'un wandering around trying to survive was horrifying, but the ritual was already unpopular and fading from practice. Just like the sacrifices in the south. Texas shuddered. Spain had put a stop to all that, despite brandishing his own violent ways to conquer. But the mere mention of it as a kid had always reduced him to a shaking mess and nerves that refused to let go of his Papa's hand, leg, shirt, armor, whatever. His siblings would sometimes tease, even Mexico, but Texas just figured she was desensitized to it. And Spain, while maybe he understood Texas' revulsion to it, never understood the debilitating fear that gripped Texas. Didn't ask why little Texas suffered nightmares filled with screams and blood; and hands the reached to drag him to the altar too. He'd thus always had a rather complicated relationship with religion; particularly those that made violent demands. He'd always hoped Anne never had to see things like that when she was a tyke, but he never dared to ask if she had. Didn't want to dredge up something awful. She already had enough on her plate.

"Are you alright, lad?" Texas turned to see a weary, concerned-looking Arthur behind him and gave a stiff nod that the elder nation accepted. The Englishman held up a small flask in offering. "It might help calm your nerves."

"I'm fine."

"Your hands, boy. Look at them." And he did only to find them clenched tight and shaking. "Take a drink."

"I'm technically underage, you know."

"Then I'll bear the responsibility." He pushed the flask into Texas' hands. He looked at the steel container, beautifully etched with a filigree. A gift no doubt. Alcohol was probably a bad idea, but he knew he needed to get his head in the game. Anne should never have to experience the things that haunted him as a kid. He took a long drink of the burning liquor before handing it back. It made his eyes sting, but it did the trick.

"Thanks…sorry." But Arthur shook his head, a little sadly, before taking a sip of his own.

"I can guess what that reaction was for. Antonio and I never got on much back then, but I've heard tales of the lands he explored. In the few times we gathered to speak, we would exchange stories. Suffice to say, such things were not shocking us," Texas blinked, and Arthur shrugged. He had lived an exceptionally long time, was ancient, had seen many things, many of which was unpleasant. "But they happened. I'm sorry you had to experience those things."

"Did Anne ever…"

"I honestly do not know. I don't believe so. I don't recall the peoples around her land ever engaging in such. But it was a while before I found her in the wilderness."

"Maybe she was lucky then."

"Maybe." They sat in silence for a while.

"So, what's the plan to stop this witch from getting to Anne? What do we do?" Arthur had to admit he was a bit encouraged how the boy was deferring to his lead. This was an important and delicate operation.

"We're heading to Glastonbury. Today. Centuries ago, I had sealed Morganna's magic with mine there. It is a part of the veil. That is, a sort of gateway between worlds, the ether. Once we open the portal, our main goal is to pull Anne back to her proper time here. If Morganna tries to interfere, then we shall have to destroy her."

"Just like that?"

"Yes. Albeit a bit more complex than that. We…I wasn't powerful enough to destroy her back then. Not after years of fighting in wars, but I do believe we can end her now, especially if she actually makes the attempt."

"Why does she want Anne's magic…besides killing you? Doesn't she know we can reanimate?"

"She believed then, perhaps still, that by absorbing enough magic that she can become the new immortal personification of the kingdom." Arthur got the strangest sense of déjà vu about the conversation followed by a slight twinge of pain in his head, "She intended centuries upon centuries ago to do so, but she failed to defeat myself and my brothers. She failed to take Camelot."

"What does your cat have to do with this?"

"My cat is named after a place." Arthur sighed.

"From that mythical king and the knights of the…the…um—"

"The round table, yes."

"Uh…I mean, it's Anne's favorite story? I…help me here." Arthur sighed again.

"King Arthur of Camelot in the kingdom of Avalon. Bestowed the Excaliber blade by the Lady of the Lake." Texas shrugged. "It's all real. I am, was, King Arthur." Texas was silent for several awkward moments.

"No shit?"

"Indeed."

"Did Anne know that?"

"Well, I imagine she knows it now."

"Wait, you never told her?"

"There was no reason to. We dissolved the kingdom to protect it's secrets; like the seal on Morganna and the existence of magic…it was made into myth."

"Dude…so whatever happened in the story actually went down?"

"Some, yes. Other parts are actual myths."

"Is that Merlin guy real?"

"I am very much real." Rhys spoke from the door, looking amused. And Texas stared, mouth agape.

"Who else knows about this?"

"I don't think anyone does anymore. Life was quite different back then. We were pretty isolated, in way, even in Europe. News travelled slow."

"This is crazy…"

"Well…"

"If you say there's more, I swear…"

"So much more." Reilly spoke next. "But not all relevant to the now. So, don't worry about it. We need to get on the road now. I got the ok-go from the abbey historians. Let's get moving before they realize the mess we left Stonehenge in." Arthur nodded and shuffled a bewildered Texas into the room to grab his bag.

In the past, elsewhere:

The witch panted heavily, wiping sweat off her brow, accidentally smearing a smidge of mud on her face, as she surveyed her work. The mud had been dampened and then molded around the small clearing creating an elaborate design upon the earth. Stones placed even apart to form a circular perimeter, and at its center, a flat boulder with runes painstakingly painted. They already glowed and ominously sparked calling for their purpose to be fulfilled.

Soon. Very soon. The new moon was tonight and the veil weakened. Samhain would have been the most ideal, but the dwindling magic in her gut was fading and she hadn't the time before her target faded away or for a temporary replenishment. The boy and his already overused magic could only sustain her for so long. She needed Albion's brat; the princess. And with that much raw power behind her skills, easily taken from a vessel so weak, she would finally finish her goal. She could not fail. Clan Kirkland would fall, and she would rise. And with them destroyed, the cosmos would have no choice but to accept her as the new power, the new kingdom. And perhaps eventually, her kingdom would expand farther, across the seas, from whence this future child spawned. Her power could only rise.

She'd changed her mind of reviving Mordred. He was ultimately useless anyway. Perhaps she could sire a new nation, with Albion's child gone. A stronger child. A worthy one.

Yes. The time was now. The cosmos foretold this night. And Morganna would have vengeance.

Oooh! I like how this chapter turned out.