Ch. 10:
In the past:
Anne couldn't help but be amused at the sight of her uncle snarking with the healers as they fussed over him. He'd looked plenty uncomfortable with their prodding and turned his nose at their potions. She had to smother a laugh when Reilly had pinned him down, Rhys clasped his nose, and Arthur practically shoved the liquid down his throat. The red-headed warrior sputtered and cursed at his siblings who shrugged and teased. It was, strangely, pleasant to watch them. In her time, they were far less tactile, and possibly even more snarky with one another. Or perhaps they were just grumpy. They were quite old by her time. Anne snorted. Old, indeed. She glanced at them again, watching as they traded quips that one had placed an extra blanket over their brother, another snuck water into his hand, and the other fluffed pillows when Alistair sat forward to emphasize an especially biting insult. They were so chaotically loving. It was the strangest sight, really.
"whose blood upon the stone…" Anne sighed at the ever present whispers, "shall reap ye of all…" her teeth clenched. I mean for heaven's sake, give it a rest! She huffed quietly. I've got the voice memorized now! Can't it say something different for once?!
"…in the forest you will find…" Anne jolted. What the—? The voice was barely discernable, with moments of simply noises, a mixture of pronounced sounds and sighs with only a few patches of words to be understood. "Come to the circle…find your way home." And that got her attention. Home. A way home…in the forest. Her brows furrowed. A circle in the creepy-as-fuck forest? You've got to be shitting me.
It sounded so easy. Too easy. Just take a walk in the woods, find a circle, and boom she would be home? Granted, that is essentially what got her time-traveling in the first place. She was no expert in magic either. So really, what did she know? And with one of her uncles downed from a stab wound, and the others with a kingdom to run…she was in the way. Useless here. She had no function within the kingdom. And her presence within this time-space was…wrong.
The more she and her uncle Rhys discussed the nature of time magic, and time science, the more things began to really make sense for Anne. Magic, her father's magic anyhow, had always been this strange and mysterious thing. Intangible. Something she could neither see nor understand. Until now. The magic was so potent here. So much so that even Anne could sense it. She didn't recognize it at first, until Reilly spent an afternoon explaining in so many different ways, from anecdotes to poetry, in effort to make it understandable; relatable. And once she had, she could feel it. It didn't make it any less foreign, in its own way. Her magic, if Anne could call it that, was certainly different from theirs. Manifested differently. Anne began to think it was why her father and her could not fully communicate such things with each other. They didn't understand the differences in their magic. It was like an entirely different language, though the rules seemed almost wholly universal, and neither had bothered to learn the other. Was that why? Because they viewed each other's magic as incorrect or lesser in some way? God, was it really that simple? If it was, Anne wanted to slap herself for being so blind. Centuries of speaking different languages and perspectives and never once they'd tried to bridge that. It was a failing that was certainly hard to swallow. A bitter pill of failure. And even worse, it made her want to disappear.
Disappear into the woods where she could right at least one thing and spare more damages from her very existence. If ever there was an epiphany, this one was a brutal one. The voice in her head grew heavier, her eyebrows scrunched, and she peered back at her family, her father nowhere to be found. The voice was clearer in a strange way. Almost intuitive. Like when she was flying through a dog fight and the focus became so clear as to what she needed to do to complete the mission. It's like the voice was getting stronger. Becoming a part of her. Anne briefly wondered if this is what a small fraction of insanity felt like. Just another presence, natural or otherwise, tugging one in a direction they'd never wish to go, but then, when was there ever choice?
The moment her father reentered the room that voice silenced, but in its wake was a violent pain that seemed to pierce down her spine. She stiffened and silenced a gasp; taking a moment to breathe and keep herself from passing out. Whatever this voice was it was growing impatient, angry at being thwarted, and vengeful. Insistent of its circle in the woods.
But why a circle there? Why did it have to be there? There was a circle in her father's chambers. There was a cleverly hidden circle under the round table and the throne. There was a circle around all of Camelot! She saw it on the rare time she had enough energy to request to walk around town. Something her father insisted on personally escorting her; her personal guard, Drystan, and the Kings Guard trailing behind. Arthur had purchased a lovely shawl for her, despite her meek protests, that had become her favorite piece to wear. It really was blessedly warm as well as being beautifully embroidered. But she had noticed the faint glow of lines running through the grounds and when she quietly pointed them out to her father, he praised her sight, and explained the protection spells in place for the townspeople. People who greatly loved their king and his wonderous magic. It was truly surreal, as a nation, to be recognized in such a way. After a lifetime of her nature being one of the biggest secrets of nationhood. The people weren't supposed to know they existed. And yet here, in this time, they were. It was common knowledge. Everyone knew them for the supernatural beings they were. It was unsettling at times. Though she would never get used to being called princess or your highness. Considering the pioneering and wild life she'd led, well, she certainly never felt like a princess.
She was brought back to the present by Riley calling her. Glancing over, he beckoned her to Alistair's side. Her uncle was to remain resting in bed, no matter how much he protested, and he certainly was. So, her Irish uncle charged her with sitting with him to keep him there.
"Stab him again, if you must."
"Oi! And how does that help?!" Alistair growled. His brother only shrugged, refusing to answer as he practically flounced out the door. Anne found herself quietly laughing as she settled next to her uncle. The silence should have been awkward, but it didn't feel so. Perhaps because it was the overall scene. Her father and Rhys were in deep conversation in one part of the room, staff were tending the fire to bring it back to a heartier flame, and the healers slowly shuffled from the room, clearing their strange tinctures and potions. She glanced back at her uncle who was glaring in the general direction of his siblings; perhaps put out at not being in their conversation.
"Uncle," he turned his attention to her, "Is there a casting circle in the dark forest?"
"Heaven help us if there is. Why do you ask?"
"The voice I've been hearing. It's rather insistent that I go into the woods." She explained and her uncle sat up straighter.
"When was this?"
"A moment ago – I heard the same thing I've heard before, but then there was more. I could barely hear it, but it said to go to the circle in the forest and that I'd find my way home." Alistair stared off for a moment before quickly pulling himself out of the bed with a grimace. She gave a startled sound, reminding him he was supposed to stay and rest, but he marched over to the others, practically locking her father into another headlock, and her father practically screeching in outrage.
"We need ta end this and we need ta do it now." He growled low. Rhys was the first to recover.
"It isn't as simple as a battle, Alba. We still need to set ourselves the ritual and at the appropriate time—"
"There is no time—ach!" Alistair winced when Arthur bit him. "There's more! Anne was told there's a circle in the woods."
"You're certain, brother?" Arhtur straightened himself.
"Not until I find it…and destroy it."
"And you plan to do so with a hole in your gut?"
"Ach! It's nothin', I'm fine! But I go to that damned forest an' I go now."
"Wait, Alistair, you cannot go alone, and certainly not unprepared." Rhys cut in. "We need to fortify our shields and gather everything we can. We don't even know for sure what or who we are up against."
"Who else could it be, Crymu? It's Morganna. That witch has finally shown herself again!"
"Possibly. You have a worrying number of enemies, Albion…in both courts."
"Who else could it be?!" Arthur's voice raised and the siblings began to argue back and forth. Meanwhile, Anne watched a bit stunned at the sudden aggression, from Alistair's headlock for…whatever reason that was to now even her usually serene uncle, Rhys, practically scolding the other two. Still, like in the war room during the forties, where sometimes there were screaming matches, they reached resolution shockingly fast because soon they all departed with different locations intended. Her poor Uncle Riley had barely returned from wherever he had gone before being manhandled in another direction. Anne blinked at least twice before she realized she was left alone in her uncle's chambers. Huh.
And for the rest of the day, she saw none of them. So, it was just her wandering, her ladies not far behind, then eventually Drystan. It was…strangely quiet, all things considered. Even with staff and knights bustling about, merchants and townsfolk bartering and mingling, she wandered unhindered the whole day. It wasn't that different; she was still awkwardly addressed as 'princess', was served food, and was even given some flowers. But it was such a deviation that she found it unsettling. Still, walking about was nice, and strangely untiring. It was something she noticed. She had a usual surge of energy this day, after so many days of seemingly endless exhaustion. She felt no stronger, just not…fatigued. The voice was gone. Everything seemed so achingly normal; aside from the fact that she was so outrageously far in the past.
It was getting close to supper and there was still no sign of her father or uncles, as she once again walked the town square. Children were running about, chores done, playing until it was time for their final meal and bedtimes. A few had called her over, asking her to join in. Shrugging, Anne smiled and asked what they were playing.
"Tis called Catch the Fae Folk!" one child explained. "One be the fae folk and they must hide from the others trying to hunt them for their magic!" An interesting, albeit slightly disturbing explanation for a reverse hide-and-seek. Anne mused it was simple enough.
"Alright. I'll join."
"Thank you, Princess! Morgan," the child points to a widely grinning, dark haired girl, "she is the fae folk. She's gonna hide and we must get her!"
"Okay. Do we count so she can hide?"
"We sing, Princess!" another child exclaimed, and Anne nodded.
"You will have to teach me the song. Are you ready, Morgan?"
"Yes, your highness! I shall hide very well for you." And with that the girl turned to go hide. The rest of the children gathered close and began to sing. If there was one thing about olde nursery rhymes. Anne thought as the children sang and danced around her, was that they were strangely morbid; many alluding to things like death. She'd always found it odd that they'd sing of such things, attaching them to games or before their bedtimes. Different times, she supposed, trying her best to smile at the macabre song and twirl the children when they reached for her. The song seemed to run two rounds before they scampered off to "find they fae", calling her to join their hunt. She'd followed the gaggle of children, checking the barns and stables but finding no sign, even as they'd excitedly jumped in damp hay. The poor stable hands will be returning to a mess. The tavern barmaids gave the children exasperated looks when they'd peeked in but played along before shooing them out the door. At some point, Anne looked back to ask her ladies to maybe set some knights to find little Morgan before the sun set, in case they never found her themselves. Light was fading fast, and her parents might worry. But they weren't there. And she thought she saw Drystan, but he seemed farther behind, moving slowly.
He must be tired, she thought worriedly. Perhaps he could use a vacation.
Her musing was cut short as a small hand grasped hers and tugged her along. She looked down at the child with what colored hair and endless dark eyes. 'Come, princess.' They sang. And she followed. It seemed like she blinked and suddenly she lost track of most of the children. Where were they? She looked around the brush and tall stalks around her. Were they hiding behind the trees? It was misty, so it might be hard to see them…but, no, they weren't supposed to be the ones hiding. It was little Morgan who was 'it' in this game. Peering behind herself, she found that Drystan was nowhere to be seen. Only mist and thick forest behind her. All around her and…oh shit, she thought, she's in the creepy-as-fuck forest. 'Damn it, Anne! You became the dumb blonde in the horror film! And this poor kid—'
She looked down to the wheat-haired child, but they weren't there…and she was holding a tree branch. What? Startled, she tried to find the child, any child at this point, but was meant with nothing save the ambience of a forest that was rapidly losing light.
"Well…fuck." She grumbled.
"Such language!" Anne yelped and whipped around to see a woman in a dress, holding a basket of harvested plants.
"Oh…I apologize. I didn't see you there!"
"Are you quite alright, princess?"
"Yes. Thank you. I seemed to have got a little turned around. Would you happen to know the way back to the castle?"
"Oh, of course!" the woman smiled, brushing dark strands behind her ear, "I was on my way back as well after picking some herbs."
"Thank you!" Anne sighed in relief. Her father and uncles were going to be upset with her when she got back, wandering so far from the castle. Hopefully Drystan won't get into trouble. The woman gently held her elbow steering her in another direction.
"How are you liking Camelot, Princess?" the woman asked.
"Uh, it's nice. I like it. Have you lived here long?" What Anne wouldn't give for indoor plumbing…
"Since before it was named."
"Oh wow, then seeing everything turn into this must have been interesting."
"Well, it was chaotic for some time. As you know, I'm sure, what with the war and such. Everything seemed to change so fast after that. And suddenly, there is a king and the powers-that-be have all changed."
"Was…there a king before this?"
"No, there was a Queen." A queen? I don't remember that part of the story. Wasn't it Uther Pendragon – when Rome finally disappeared from the Isles? Or something? "Surely, you heard." And when Anne shook her head, the woman continued. "There was a queen, or well, a sorceress who was meant to be queen. But even still, she commanded these lands. She ruled strongly, learning all she could about the mystic arts. And she happily learned with others who sought the deep magics. But the way of magic is one of strength and power and keeping that place. It is with great sacrifices to feed one's magic, after all, and those that stood with her paid their service well."
"And you know of all this?"
"We see. We all see, just as we see this king and his brothers. It simply is." She shrugged. "But when the brothers came, they were different." And Anne had to concede that "different" was barely scratching the surface. How did one truly explain the personification of a collective people? How did one explain the manifestation of a land; of an ideal? They couldn't fully explain themselves to each other. Like the woman said, it simply is. There was something infinite and yet also not about their kind. Something truly abstract. They weren't born they were just…manifestations, imagined into existence. Some would say all things in the universe exist just so.
"The brothers are different. Blessed in ways that no others can be. And the queen was thus usurped after a great and terrible strife. But some say, the queen would have her revenge."
"Revenge? But she wasn't really a queen, was she? You said she was a sorceress who commanded. That might mean people followed her, but that isn't the same as a title. And the battle was won by the brothers. It might be a callous way of it, but to the victor goes the spoils, they say, and so they were given their titles by the people because they are the will of the people. As you say, they were different. But did the people call this sorceress 'queen'? Or did she just want them to?" Anne wasn't a fan of politics, but she knew how it worked. It wasn't always pretty, or even sometimes fair, but that was the way of it. One might call themselves 'king' or 'queen' of whatever, but that didn't make it so if you had no backing…or you lost. It reminded her of the time in history when Ancient Rome had three emperors. Three men who simply picked a spot on the map and declared themselves because they wanted to and relied on the ignorance and confusion of others in an attempt to make it so. It was kind of hilarious.
The woman was silent for some time, as if mulling over her words, and they walked in silence through the woods. The only sounds were the wind and the crunching of leaves beneath their feet. Anne was sure, however, that water was nearby. Finally, though, the woman spoke again.
"I suppose that may be one perspective. And I imagine…being the princess, you would defend Arthur's position as king."
"Not really. It's just the way things are, how people are. And how society tends to operate. Observe empires for a few centuries and you start to see the patterns." Anne looked down at her feet when they seemed to no longer be on dead leaves, but stone. And before her was an intricate design made of…mud? How strange.
"Perhaps I will see these patterns when I have lived a few centuries." And what? Anne turned to look at the woman, but gasped when pain erupted in her side as the blade tore through her skin. Why was everyone suddenly getting stabbed lately?
Elsewhere:
"How could you lose her?!" Arthur growled at Drystan who kneeled before him, head bowed, and sweating in panic.
"Forgive me, your majesty! I tried to keep up, but it was like I couldn't move! She was playing with the children and then suddenly she was gone after turning a corner. The children said they saw her by the edge of the forest, and I caught sight of her again, but she was walking after another child; one I'd never seen before. She'd gone deeper into the forest, and I'd lost sight of her. I…I don't know what happened, sire!"
"We can find her, Albion, but you must remain calm."
"Calm?! Myrddin, my child has been taken into the dark forest in a weakened and vulnerable state! How can I be calm?!"
"Because we are her kin, brother. We can track her. Alba and Eire have readied the knights and we are to leave now. Leave Drystan be to join the ranks; this was beyond his control. We must go and you must wear this."
"What is it?"
"Protection. I've been working on this all morning. Put it on, sheath Excalibur, and let us go now. I've a terrible feeling that we are nearing the point of failure." Arthur hesitated a moment before sheathing the sacred sword and waving Drystan away, who was all too keen to run out the door. Snatching the talisman from his brother, and gave the eldest a grim nod, before setting out the room himself. Rhys followed closely, worry set in his brow.
