by Skye, Sariah
Trystan shook his head vehemently. “No, luv. You never get used to war. The moment you do, you’ve lost all your humanity and hope. Each time I go into these I hope—foolishly—that this will be the last one. That humanity and supes alike will finally get it through their heads it’s just not worth it all. But, war is easier than love, I think. Love means we have to open ourselves up and be vulnerable, even to things we don’t expect. After years of evolving, we haven’t mastered that.” His gaze shifted downcast and he nodded slowly, as if he was recalling some deep-seated, painful memory. He shook himself though and looked up at me with a smile. “One day I think we’ll get it. And it’ll be a good day we’ll all get to see, someday.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“And maybe we can get through this relatively unscathed. Then we’ll have the rest of our lives to…” He didn’t finish his statement, but he brought a hand to my cheek and set it there while he tipped his head against mine.
“To what, Trystan?” I asked hopefully.
“To be the family we’re supposed to be.”
“I’d like that,” I answered, with a gentle grin at him.
“Me too, luv. Me too.” His thumb traced little circles over my cheekbone, and he leaned in to brush his lips over mine, ever so slightly; a departure from his hungry kisses that usually meant he was horny. This was a kiss of promise; of forever. Of our forever. “You know I love ye, right?”
“I do. Love you too, Trys…” He captured my lips once more, and we sat there together silently for a few beats, just relishing in each other’s essence before I reluctantly stood.
“We should probably get down to dinner, huh?”
Trystan nodded in agreement. “Aye. Before Mathias loses his mind and cooks everything in the house. Follow me, eh?”
I chuckled, and he stood, holding out his hand and I linked mine into it. “Anytime and anywhere, stud. I’ll follow you anywhere.”
We’d invited my aunt and grandmother to eat with us that evening, to formally discuss everything that was about to go on. The mood was thickly tense at dinner and no one said much, except for Igraine and Morgause, assuring everyone they’d keep the isle safe in our absence. And assuring the animals would be cared for. Mathias said he’d done all the responsible things, like had arranged everything to be transferred in any one of our names or Link’s name if anything had gone wrong. He also phoned Link to arrange for the clubs to be closed while we were gone. We knew time moved by quicker here, so even if it were just a couple of days in Camelot, it could easily be weeks here at home. We’d be losing out on a lot of money, but with the “lawsuit” it was probably best to keep things quiet anyway.
Mathias made a huge dinner of vegetarian lasagna, salad, breads, and various desserts. It was quite clear he was stressed and it showed through the amount of food he had made.
Long before the food was gone and the sun had set, Igraine and Morgause retired for their cottages for the evening, leaving the seven of us behind. We all gathered around the center island, eating and drinking wine quietly and nervously.
Suddenly, Trystan smacked his silverware on the countertop with two hands. “Och, this is just wrong. We’re heading to Camelot and who knows what could happen, and tonight it feels like we’re on death row. We can’t have that.”
Mathias glanced up at him from across the table and arched a shifty brow. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Group orgy?” Rhys blurted, eyes wide and grinning with hope. I glared at him scathingly, grabbed my roll, and flung it at him. Of course he shot magic at it, effectively sending it shooting across the table and landing in Xander’s dinner.
“The fuck? This is the second time someone has flung their carbohydrates at me. I’m starting to take it personally.” He shot me a thin gaze, mouth gently quirked in a smirk.
“What? It… slipped.” I batted my lashes at him innocently.
“Is this what you had in mind, Munro?” Mathias inquired, with an inconspicuous smile. “Chaos at the dinner table?”
Trystan shook his fist at him. “Not exactly, ye smug Roman bastard. But this is too damned formal.” He slid out of his chair, grabbed his plate and mine since he was sitting next to me, and moved into the living room, setting the plates on the coffee table. “Get your arses over here, before I drag you.”
I exchanged a suspicious look with Mathias and shrugged before I followed him. Trystan was shoving the sofa and chairs out of the way and grabbing the cushions from them and tossing them on the floor. “Lassie, will you go into the closet over there and get some blankets?”
“Sure…” I said hesitantly at him. Bash joined me at the closet, after bringing his own meal in the other room, and assisted me with grabbing blankets and pillows. We tossed them onto the floor as Trystan did… whatever he was doing.
“The hell are you doing?” Xander asked, when Trystan tossed him a blanket. There were piles of cushions and pillows on the ground, and Trystan plopped himself in the center of them.
“Ooh, it is an orgy situation!” Rhys exclaimed, clapping his hands, sounding giddy.
Trystan shot him a glare. “Not so much, wizard. Just a casual little movie watching party. There’s not enough room for all of us on the furniture, and I’m tired of sitting on the floor myself. So… here we go. We’re going to have fun, and when we’re done eating, we’re gonna get drunk. Anyone have any objections with that?” He looked up expectantly at all of us. Mordred appeared confused, Rhys was still giddy—even with the prospect of orgies off the table—Mathias looked uncomfortable, and Bash and Xander seemed to like the idea. They promptly sat on the cushions, Xander going for the remote on the table.
Reluctantly, Mathias sat down near the edge, and I fit in between him and Trystan.
“What are we watching then?” Xander inquired, and Trystan just shrugged.
“Pick something. Something… funny.”
“Hmm…” Xander pondered for a moment, before letting out a large laugh. “Given what we’re about to do, I think this seems the best choice.” I tried not to lose it when he went into a menu, and selected Monty Python and the Holy Grail from the digital menu.
“By the gods, are you crazy?” Mathias quipped, giving Xander a funny look.
“It’s funny! It’s ironic as shit!” Xander protested. “They’re on a quest to get the grail! Sound familiar?”
“Do it, it’s hysterical,” Bash insisted, and I agreed. Before long everyone was chuckling to the silly antics, songs, skits and strange graphics of the 1970’s bizarre ironic comedy. It was Rhys, though, that laughed the most. I thought he was going to piss himself he was laughing so hard each time Arthur and the knights came onto the screen, clacking their coconuts together.
“Arthur really is that stupid in real life!” Rhys shouted between gasping laughs, unable to contain himself. Mordred had a perma-scowl on his face for a while but even he relented; I think he found the mockery of his home kingdom a bit… cathartic.
When the food was long gone—Trystan had eaten half of it, I swear—and the various bottles of wine and booze poured, no one could stop laughing. We even watched the movie a second time, because Bash kept insisting the part with the Black Knight was funnier than the part with the French Knight which Xander insisted was funnier. So they proceeded to argue, and Rhys actually had to leave the room when the Arthur on the screen was talking to the old woman who “didn’t vote for him” to go to the bathroom he was laughing so hard.
The funniest thing happened though, besides the movie. We started off spread out, essentially. But after a while, we’d huddled up, sharing blankets and keeping closer to the table to reach for our drinks. Even Mathias imbibed, and he normally didn’t. When he loosened up he was positively adorable; I didn’t think I ever heard him laugh so hard than at the scene with the knights and the shrubberies. Mathias had parted his legs and pulled me between him, and I leaned inadvertently on Trystan’s shoulder; Xander curled up at my feet, and Bash draped himself over
me. Even Rhys and Mordred got close together even though Mordred seemed a bit terrified at the contact. I sort of got the impression my cousin had been afraid to get close to anyone, and knowing what I knew about how someone like him might be treated in Camelot? I didn’t blame him.
I desperately hoped we could change that for him, either by liberating the city, or giving him solace here. Since I realized who he was—a cousin—I suddenly felt very protective of him. I didn’t know how old he was supposed to be, since everything in Avalon seemed timeless. I assumed he was around my age, actually, so it sort of felt silly being so, but I couldn’t help it.
A few short months ago, I had my mother and my best friend. And my dog. That was it.
Now? I had a father, I had fiancé’s, I had a brother-like best friend, a cousin, an asshole uncle—but didn’t everyone have one of those?
I had a family.
It was fucking amazing. And perhaps it was the half bottle of wine I consumed, but long after the movie was over, and the laughing had stopped for now, the guys started to doze off, one by one. Mathias who didn’t drink much felt the effects first, and I kept my head on his stomach, my hand outstretched, clutching Trystan’s who passed out a couple cushions away from myself, and Bash and Xander who flanked my sides as usual.
Rhys had fallen asleep as Mordred sat upright, and the dark prince gently stroked his long hair down his back, an expression of…adoration?... on his face. My chest warmed at the gesture, and he blushed when I caught him.
“So, Cousin, crazy how much has changed in such a short time, huh?” I mused out loud, quietly so I didn’t disturb the guys.
He laughed shortly. “You could say that…”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to Camelot? For good?”
Mordred sighed. “I am… not sure. As it stands now, no. But even still? As presumptuous as it sounds, I don’t think Merlin would ever be comfortable there again. So…”
“I told Rhys you were welcome here for as long as you needed, and I meant it,” I said earnestly. He offered an appreciative smile. “Truth is, I don’t really want to lose the crazy fucker anyway. He’s sort of turned into a really strange brother, and since I don’t have much family…” I shrugged indifferently.
“I’m family. Technically…” he said, looking amused.
“You are.”
“So… do you think we can pull this off?” He asked, uncertainly. Considering he was technically a prince of a kingdom, his uncertainty should have been unsettling. But to me it just made him more genuine.
“Saving Arthur? I’m not sure,” I said, with a frown as I absentmindedly fingered little paths around the ridges of Mathias’ stomach over his t-shirt. “Saving the world? Yeah… I think we got this.”
He smiled in relief. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“Why?”
“Priestesses of Avalon are often very observant and clairvoyant. So if you think that, there must be a reason,” he explained. “And… this may sound very strange, but these past couple of days, even knowing where we’re going and what we are doing? They’ve been the best days of my life. Selfishly… that’s part of the reason I didn’t urge us to go back. I was… enjoying a few days of happy. Just in case they were my last.”
I smiled at him. “I’m glad. Really. But these aren’t your last days, and they aren’t mine. Or my guys. Certainly not Merlin’s, just think of all the shit he’s been through?” I laughed sharply, knowing it had been a lot.
“I’d… like to see where this goes. I’ve always been intrigued with stories of Merlin,” Mordred continued, and I snorted. “He’s so not what I heard.”
“Morty, he’s not what anyone expected. Read some modern stories about him. He’s painted in a totally different light,” I replied with a laugh.
“And… these incubi. They are… strong and honorable. Nimue made you all out to be these terrible, awful people who only cared about yourselves.” He glared angrily at her very mention. “She was wrong. I’m glad I went with my gut and sided with Avalon.”
“Me too, Morty.”
He grimaced. “Morty. I suppose… since we’re all stories here and such, if I stay I’ll have to take a new name? I don’t think I want to be Mordred over here. That’s just... weird.”
I grinned smugly. “I’ve thought about that too. ‘Dawson’ was just something that my mother picked out on a whim. I think. My father goes by ‘Lachlan Steele’ here, I thought about changing it to ‘Ava Steele’ but I decided that sounded a bit like a porn star name.”
Mordred cocked a brow. “Porn star?”
“Oh.” My grin was naughty at him. “Porn is movies where people have sex on camera for people to watch.”
I didn’t think Mordred’s mouth could have fallen open any wider. “Oh my… and people do this willingly?”
“Hell yes. Lots of people like it. Including your beloved Merlin,” I added, nodding towards Rhys’ sleeping form and wiggling a brow.
Mordred was aghast. “Oh my g—”
I lifted a palm. “Morty, you have to realize. While we’re not perfect, we don’t have quite the same hang ups on sex that your kingdom has. We did for a long time, and we still have some. I mean most people would be disgusted to know I had four boyfriends or whatever. It’s not too common, in fact it’s not common at all, but we have a strange set of circumstances. But while there are still haters, generally it’s accepted that sex happens. None of us would be here without it, basically. So why be all high and mighty over it? Why be ashamed? Love should be celebrated, not hated, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” He grinned widely. “How very ‘Avalonian’, Priestess.”
I shrugged. “It’s true, though, Avalonian or not. In a world so full of hate and scary things, why not celebrate love when you can?”
“I suppose…” Mordred shook his head slowly, processing. “I guess I have a lot to learn about the modern world.”
“And you will have plenty of time to do it.”
“I do hope so.” He breathed out a sigh, and I smiled to myself, watching him absentmindedly running his fingers through the length of Rhys’ brown hair that tumbled over his shoulders.
“First things first. Let’s kick your parents’ asses, and then we’ll figure it out,” I said, with a laugh.
“Right.” He agreed. I yawned out of the blue, suddenly overcome with the buzz of the alcohol.
“Sorry, Jack is kind of a jerk lately,” I replied, with a snort.
“I agree,” he chuckled, leaning back against the chair, careful not to jostle Rhys. “Good night, Priestess.”
“Night, Dark Prince.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Do we have any idea what’s going to happen when this damned thing is open?” I demanded anxiously, kicking gently at the stone tablet that lay innocuously in the small cave.
Rhys thoughtfully stroked his chin. “I assume it’ll feel something like with Avalon. There will be a big blast of magic. But I can’t be certain. Or maybe not, who knows?”
“Great.” I closed my hands and pressed my hand to my forehead before I looked over our “storming the castle” party. Mordred had assured us the weather was pretty chilly this time of year there, so we wore thick, lined boots, pants—lined leggings for me, jeans or cargo pants for the guys—and layers up top. I wore the long-sleeved dark purple tee, plus a black parka with a fur-lined hood. Since the guys all seemed to run hot, they simply wore shirts and sweatshirts or sweaters.
Mathias had taken a quick trip to one of the sporting good stores in one of the nearer towns. Because while the guys had a great deal of winter gear, they didn’t have jackets or accessories for Rhys or me, as well as some other things that might make life easier for us on the run in Camelot.
The goal was, of course, to get in, find my father, heal him, and then try to find Arthur on the off chance we could reason with, or heal him. It was a big risk, but one worth taking, I figured. It would be difficult for Arthur, his knights, or even th
e shadow fae to completely subdue us. If that didn’t work, we’d gather the rebels and come at Camelot head on.
The guys all carried heavy packs with all their clothing and supplies; bed rolls and blankets fastened tightly. Bash of course carried a large bag containing the gods only knew what poisons and powders and alchemic things he’d need, and Mathias carried a bigger amount then everyone: extra weapons, and a big chunk of my things. I felt terrible until I remembered, with a snort—superhuman strength.
I did have my own pack, though; just smaller, like Rhys’. We couldn’t be afforded to tire from overexertion, knowing fully well that our magic might falter. But we each carried clothing, food, weapons and canteens just in case we were to get separated from the group. Not that it would happen, of course, the guys insisted but it was better to be safe than sorry.
I hoped that was merely the case.
Each of us carried our own weapons just in case in addition. Rhys had a dagger close to his side, Mordred preferred a longsword along with his dark metal, “shadow” dagger, Mathias wielded a very nasty and heavy looking spiked mace that made me cringe, and Bash and Xander both carried a dagger and sword each. It all seemed a bit overkill to me, considering the guys had various magical skills and were immortal, but I supposed anything could happen. I just prayed it wouldn’t. Of course, I carried Excalibur as its bangle-bracelet form, and it thrummed with energy I could feel to the very deepest parts of me, instilling me with a confidence.
We’ve got this, Ava. We’re going to do this. Camelot will be free, and so will I. I look forward to meeting you for real, the sword spoke in my head so loudly I smiled sheepishly around me, half expecting the guys to notice. They didn’t.
We gathered around the stone, late the next morning tentatively, waiting for me to begin whatever spell we needed to open the portal. The witches of Avalon lingered nearby, and my grandmother and aunt respectively were flustered, blubbering messes waiting for us to go over.