Deep beneath the bowels of her ancestral home, she waited. She could feel the winds of change whispering indistinctly… something was coming. Vivian had waited over a thousand years to step into the world as it is today. Locked in a chamber of the Goddess's design Vivian had not aged a day.
She did not however sit idly by over the last millennium, instead choosing to use the time to hone her skills and sharpen her reflexes. Before beginning her isolation Vivian was approached by the Lady of Avalon whom had been granted a vision - the fate of the Fae would rest on her shoulders. Though the specifics remained unclear to her Vivian was steadfast in her trust of the Goddess and would not fail Her in Her hour of need.
Vivian began to rise as she felt the magic in the room shift. Collecting herself and smoothing the wrinkles from her rust colored gown, she moved towards the staircase which would bring her into the Castle proper. It was time, the Goddess was beckoning her to begin to right the wrongs wrought over time.
Stepping over the threshold and making her way to the throne room it saddened her to find the once lively halls barren and dark. Of course she knew upon entering isolation that it was unlikely for things to remain as they were, nay the Goddess would not have acted if they were. Idly flicking her fingers at the dirty windows as she passed she beckoned them to open and bring the warmth of the sun into the ancient halls. She would have to hire attendants to help set her home to rights. She may be on a mission tasked by the Goddess but she would not be giving leave to her propriety.
The rusty hinges of the ornate throne room doors groaned as she pushed them inward. Surveying the damage done to the room that was once the seat of power in Great Britain her eyes began to tear as she took it all in. From the rafters, the banners of her family hung in tatters. The marble floors which once shone with splendor were now marred with rusted armor and stains of blood. A great battle had been fought in this room… and one glance at the large throne dominating the room confirmed the victor . Magic gathered around her, eager to ease her pain as she fell to her knees and wept for all that she had lost.
"By the Goddess they shall pay" she whispered. Steeling herself she rose and made her way purposefully to the throne. Carefully levitating the remains of a distant niece or nephew from the throne, she knelt and gingerly removed the golden crown from their head. Siting gracefully upon the blood stained throne her eyes flashed as the family magic reawakened and tied its self to her as their caretaker.
Taking a breath and thinking over the words of the vow she was about to make, Vivian spoke.
—-
Acturuas scowled as he listened to one of Dumbledoor's supporters drone on about reforms that would be the end of the Great 28. How Dumbledoor thought these reforms would pass was a mystery to the Lord Black. The 28 families that made up the Most Noble and Most Ancient houses had been given governing powers over the wizarding world by Merlin himself. Concessions however had been made over the past few centuries to help stabilize the peace and ensure the prosperity of the country - one of which allowed for elected officials within the ministry to vote on and propose new laws.
How he longed for the days of olde. Of days passed on through storytelling and through written accounts in grimours - when all magical blood was precious and there was no need for peace treaties or threats of war looming in the horizon.
Without warning Acturas was jolted from his thoughts as the rooms temperature skyrocketed.
The occupants of the room began to panic as the ground trembled. Was this an attack? Who had the ability to stage an assault on the heart of the Wizarding Government? Panicked shouts filled the hair as a stone monolith erupted in the center of the chambers flinging debris into the Wizengamot stands and causing the nearby columns to crumble.
Everyone watched in horrified fascination as a fiery effigy of a dragon erupted above. For a few tense moments the dragon gazed around the room, leaving every member of the chamber feeling as if their souls had been laid bare for judgement. And then…. It spoke. It spoke asa mother would speak to their naughty children but underneath… underneath was a cold fury waiting to be recognized.
"Hear me and rejoice - fore the banner of the Dragon has risen again. Through the Goddess this land has been observed and judged. I call upon the knights of olde, the priestesses of the olde religion, and the leaders of all magical races. The banner has been raised and the fires have been lit."
Silence reigned in the chamber as the Wizengamot processed the strange occurrence. Having delivered its Message, the dragon had faded into nothingness.
"Alastor", Dumbledoor called quietly. "What can you see?"
Slowly Alastor Moody stood from his place on the floor and approached the monolith in search of any clues. What he found there nearly stopped his heart. Standing proud in the center of the monolith was the crest of a family lost to time.
"Its them Albus.." his whispered statement carrying effortlessly through the quiet room. "It's the Pendragon".
Chaos reigned. Cries of fear. Shouts of disbelief. Only one face in the crowd was immune… a look of satisfaction stole over the Lord Blacks face before he quickly masked it. The winds of change began to whisper louder and he began to wonder, not for the first time, what changes were on the horizon.
Please read and review! I always love hearing suggestions to add to the storyline.
