by Skye, Sariah
“Och, Christ…” Trystan slapped his forehead and began muttering in Gaelic.
“Behave, Rhys,” I warned him, and with a pout, he relented.
“Okay, okay.” With a blink he appeared in a seat next to me, edging Xander out of the way, who thunderously glowered at him. “Sorry, you’re in the way, storm-boy.”
“Can we get this underway?” One of the knights spoke up; I remembered him now. He sat at the opposite side of Arthur, he was one of those at the executions. Percival later told me it was his brother. I instantly hated him. Who condemned their brother to death and relished in it?
“Lancelot, do you care to take your spot?” Arthur asked, a devious glint in his eye as he motioned to a space that suddenly appeared between him and Bedivere.
Lachlan stood behind me, setting a hand on my shoulder before crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t think so. Under this rule there is no room for me at this table, I promise.”
Arthur shrugged carelessly. “Suit yourself.”
“So why are we here?” Mathias inquired, sitting up completely straight, eyes partially narrowed, and jaw clenched. He stretched out his long arms, entwined his fingers and cracked the knuckles, glaring down anyone that happened to look at him. “I don’t believe that you’re willing to surrender, so what is your game plan?”
Arthur clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a snide grin. “So skeptic, Septimus.”
Mathias crossed his arms over his chest, and arched a brow. “After two-thousand years? Yeah, you could say I am. I’ve seen a lot of things—things that would only make you squirm, Arthur.”
Arthur gave a short, bitter laugh. “And still you fight for these humans? Knowing all you know?”
“Jesus, Arthur you ninny. You are fucking human—or did you forget that, you nub?” Rhys scoffed carelessly at the king, shifting until he lay on his stomach, perching his head on his elbows to glare at him. “All that shadow crap is making you… stupid. Then again, you always were.”
I bit my laugh, but Xander wasn’t so successful. His high-pitched laugh echoed throughout the room, and Rhys flashed a wink at him from over his shoulder. Even Trystan smirked.
Arthur trained his eyes on Rhys, bent over and slammed his hands on the surface of the table. “I rue the day you were ever born, Merlin. You’re an abomination.”
Rhys snorted and flippantly gestured at him. “Yeah yeah. But you should see me in bed? Nothing abominable about that!” He released a loud whistle that turned into a big grin.
Arthur snarled in his direction, and rose a hand as if to slap him, but Bedivere stood and quickly intervened before he could strike. “Patience, milord. The wizard is only trying to goad you. Striking him will do nothing.”
“Literally it would do nothing, he could blink and be across the room faster than you can say ‘who’s your daddy,'” I snarked, and if I was seeing it correctly, I could swear Bedivere tracked an amused look in my direction, but it was short lived.
Arthur sighed, his eyes severely rolling into his head. “Fine. You are right, Bedivere. Stooping to these heathens’ level is not who I am.”
“No, but you’ll hang a woman with child just to prove a point,” Trystan said with dismay. He sat back in the chair, angling himself to drape his arm over the arm, giving everyone a bird’s eye view—pun not intended—of his rippling musculature, his pecs and shoulders flexing as he moved. “I’d rather be this heathen than a child murderer.”
“All for what?” I threw up my hands and laughed sharply. “Because she was sold into slavery as a child, raped repeatedly, and then escaped her life of servitude, finding safety in the arms of a man who truly loves her?”
Several of the knights flinched and glanced at each other.
“We… were not told this,” one of them spoke. He had long golden hair, tied at his nape, with a strong jaw and bright blue eyes.
“What were you told?” Bash inquired.
The golden-haired knight sank in his chair, shaking his head. “Only that she abandoned her marriage to commit adultery.”
Xander snorted loudly. “And that makes it okay to kill her?”
“Well, we—” The knight clamped his mouth shut, saying no more, clearly stymied and conflicted.
“Ah so you haven’t been honest. Well that’s nothing new, right, Lancelot?” Rhys said in my father’s direction. Lachlan flinched, but nodded reluctantly.
“I hate agreeing with the wizard in any capacity, but… yes,” Lachlan said, with a reproving stare in Rhys’ direction.
“And the rest of you are okay with that fact?” Mathias challenged, taking his turn to glare each one down, directly in the eyes. Everyone avoided his intimidating stare.
“If that is what it takes to attain order, then that’s what must be.” The knight on the side of Arthur spoke with conviction.
Lachlan grinned mischievously as he stared him down. “You would say that, Lamorak. More than willing to assassinate your brother for trying to do the right thing. Always the righteous bastard, you were.”
“Why, I—” The knight—Lamorak—started to jump over the table at Lachlan, when Arthur outstretched a hand, setting it on his shoulder. Lamorak relented, sinking down into his seat. “Better righteous than a roaming man whore.”
“Hey!” Rhys protested, flicking a light gust of air at Lamorak. It slapped the knight gently in the cheek and it was more shocking than anything. And really funny. “I resemble that remark!”
“Yeah but you don’t roam, Rhys. They just come to you,” I said, with a laugh.
“Oh yeah. That’s true. Lucky me.” Rhys shrugged nonchalantly.
Bedivere held up his hands, shaking his head. “Forgive me, but… if what you say is true, Priestess… why should we believe you? How can you prove it?”
I dipped my gaze, not sure what to say that wouldn’t give away his position. Maybe that’s what he was hinting on; that I do so. But I couldn’t be sure.
“Arthur’s consort, Nimue, is a demon,” Bash spat, narrowing his steely eyes in Arthur’s direction. “I know because I’ve experienced her magic. I’ve taken it apart, analyzed it. It is truly the work of a heinous individual.”
Arthur snickered a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh that is… very creative, Protector.”
“Did you know that with this table, he can look directly into my bedroom? He’s been watching me, along with Nimue, for weeks?” I suddenly blurted.
“Say what now?” Mathias demanded, and the others echoed his dismay.
“How—” Lachlan began, but I cut him off.
“Nimue.” That I was all I needed to say.
“That bitch…”
“So that’s how…” I knew what Xander was going to say, his eyes were thunderous, as was the magic pouring out of his fingertips. I felt a gentle shock on my leg and he winced. “Sorry.”
I glanced up at Arthur, daring him to argue. He didn’t but returned with a smug smile.
“It is dark, dark magic. Only dark magic can allow someone to see between worlds,” one of the knights mused, and several echoed his sentiments and began to look at Arthur with new scrutiny.
Arthur rose his hands. “I assure you, there is no dark magic at work here. But even if there is—the magic of Avalon can dispel it, correct? So… Priestess. Heal me. You’ll find the attempt futile, of that I’m sure.”
“No, Ava. Don’t.” Bash reached out, over Xander’s lap to clutch my arm. He shook his head in a warning, while Excalibur lit up at my wrist.
“See it is not I that has the magic, it’s her!” Arthur challenged, pointing at me.
I rolled my eyes, clasping it in my hand and willing it into full form. “Uh, don’t you recognize your king’s old sword?” I knew he did, but he was saving face. “Tell me,” I said, standing and waving it in the air. “Is this Excalibur?”
“It appears different, but the runes are the same. I believe it is,” Bedivere said, and several of the knights nodded.
“Would Exca
libur be wielded by one with dark magic?” Rhys challenged, and there was an echo of agreement.
Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. “Whatever your sorcery is, priestess. Heal me, and show the knights that there is no foul magic here.”
“It’s a trap,” Bash whispered, stone faced and fearful.
“Then Rhys will help. And with the sword you know I’m golden. Any problems, he’ll whisk me away. Right?”
Bash grumbled a noncommittal “okay” and shook his head. I willed the sword into its bracelet form again, slapping it on my wrist as it twisted and conformed until it fit. Bedivere’s eyes widened and he muttered to himself while shaking his head, incredulous.
“Remarkable…” the golden-haired knight spoke, awed. I couldn’t help but grin smugly at him before I turned to Rhys.
“Merlin will help me because two Avalonians are better than one,” I said, nodding to the wizard.
“Well, duh.” Rhys snickered, and I slid my chair backwards, intending to go to Arthur, the guys rose too and followed along. Of course they did.
“You feel no need to guard your precious daughter?” Arthur asked Lachlan spitefully.
Lachlan shrugged. “Clearly her protectors can do a better job than I can. They’ve done so for months now. Besides, someone’s gotta watch for all your tricks, Arthur, and no one knows them better than I.”
Arthur tittered a laugh, amused. “Of course, Lancelot. Whatever you say.”
“Be careful,” Xander leaned and whispered into my ear, before gently kissing my temple. I beamed up at him and winked.
“Always. Well… I try,” I replied, and we laughed.
Rhys held out his hand to me, and we joined Arthur at the head of the table. My first reaction was to cringe, to shy away, remembering the last time we were this close in proximity to each other but I forced myself to look him directly in the eye. Internally, I wanted to vomit. He had the leer of a desperate man that carried himself with false confidence, and there was a certain hollowness in his stare that left me uneasy.
Outwardly, though, I flashed him a confident smile. “Ready?” I said to Rhys, making sure the blade was securely around my wrist.
He nodded once, and Arthur stood still, hands at his side, facing his knights with pride on his face.
We rose our hands in tandem, setting them on his cloaked shoulders. I fought a shiver… the aura for lack of a better term that radiated from him was just… wrong. Beyond wrong, and unnatural. Rhys felt it too, and didn’t bother to hide his cringe, along with a very pointed, “Ewwww…”
“Rhys, you know if anything goes wrong—” Mathias began sternly.
“Yeah yeah.” Rhys waved him off over his shoulder. “I know what to do.”
“Good.”
I blew out a breath and closed my eyes, finding the beat in the back of my mind.
I am here, priestess. Always… Gabriella’s calm, steadying voice entered my mind, and I heard her steady drumming begin, and grow louder. I forced the magic through my limbs and out my fingers, feeling them pleasantly heat. The blade around my wrist vibrated and hummed, and I wondered if it was aware of the sword’s former wielder’s presence.
Oh yeah, Ava. I’m aware. He’s not though, so be careful. He has no idea truly that he’s been invaded.
Understood. It was my last thought as I pushed the magic inside of Arthur. I heard him gasp loudly and I opened my eyes. He shivered lightly at first, but as Rhys poured more magic into him, he trembled violently, muttering unintelligible sounds and seizing. It reminded me of one of those televangelists casting out “demons” from someone which was essentially what we were doing.
Several of the knights gasped, and I nearly jumped back myself when Arthur’s eyes turned black as night, and a black plume of fog or smoke escaped his neck.
Determined, Rhys poured in more, the light effect was nearly blinding, and I had to struggle to keep my eyes open especially as my fingers heated, calling for more magic.
I fought the urge to shriek when Arthur’s hand reached out, landing on my shoulder, and he briefly turned to me, his ice-blue eyes back to normal for a split second as he looked to me pleadingly. “Please… please stop…” he begged in a shaking voice, but before I could even react, Arthur let loose a scream so heart-wrenching I felt like my soul was being ripped out, broken, and tossed into the foul wind. From out of the corner of my eye I saw Mathias start for me, but Xander stopped him by gripping his arm tightly, and shook his head. I noticed he didn’t remove it either after Mathias relented.
“Make it stop… please,” Arthur pleaded again, grabbing my shoulder hard, his fingers digging into my flesh felt like knives, and instinctually my invisible magic shot up to protect me. Just in time too because at that moment, a long strand of black colored magic that had no depth, and made me feel instantly disturbed and afraid, shot out of his hand, looking for a new host. It hissed and roared and nearly appeared sentient as it fell to the table, turning to each knight. They each balked and shied away—reasonably so—until Bash jumped into the fray, tossing a vial onto the table, directly on the…substance…the vial shattering and stilling the magic in place. Breathing hard, he propped himself up on his feet, still kneeling over the magic rendered motionless. “Rhys! Now!”
Rhys gritted his teeth, and with one hand still trained on Arthur with the Avalon magic, pointed the other at the dark substance, shooting out a blast of blinding light, and hitting it. It roared and hissed and exploded into oblivion as Arthur fell to his backside, breathless; Rhys’ and my magic cutting off suddenly.
He clutched his chest, wheezing and gasping for air, as he bowed over the ground and heaved. Curious, I leaned over, intending to reach for him but I was quickly yanked away by my arms by Trystan.
“No lassie… give it time…” Rhys stood back himself, as Trystan pulled me protectively into his arms.
Bedivere was the first person to react, lowering himself to his knees and attempting to set a hand on his shoulder, when Arthur turned to him with wide, dark eyes and a pleading expression. He clutched Bedivere’s arm. “Bedivere… my oldest friend… please help me. Get me out of here. They’re… they’re…” Arthur shot me a withering stare before clutching his “friend’s” official Camelot tabard.
Bedivere set a steadfast, solid hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “They are helping you, Arthur. Let them.”
“But… but…” Arthur stammered in a small voice between breaths.
Trystan still clutched me to him, and I leaned into his strong form, setting my hands on his stomach for balance, feeling partially weakened and entirely disturbed by what just transpired. He turned and glared at the knights as Bash leapt deftly off the table, and folded himself along the backside of me, setting his chin on my shoulder and wrapping his arms around my middle.
“S-see?” Arthur struggled to blurt; I could barely see around Bash, but he tried to lift a finger in our direction. “D-debauchery. Who has more than one mate? It’s… di…” He struggled to speak before erupting in a fit of coughing and heaving.
“She has more than one mate because she’s an exceptional person, Arthur, and these are exceptional men,” Lachlan said, walking around the table and cautiously standing before Arthur, one of his hands set on the blade at his side, ready to draw if need be.
“I have witnessed these people—this priestess and her protectors,” Bedivere stated with determination, rising to his feet. “What their bedroom activities consist of is none of our business. But what I have witnessed is beautiful. They are friends. They are family. They are hope, and love, and everything that Avalon stands for. The question remains, will you stand with love? Or will you stand with darkness?” Bedivere motioned for Arthur, who gazed up at his knights with wide, soulless dark eyes—like Nimue’s—and narrowed them in defiance.
“Bedivere? Not you too…” Lamorak said, disappointed.
Bedivere lifted his chin and stared down at him. “I do not defy. I align with the righteous truth, and that is not our king. W
hat’s best for our king is to let Ava and Merlin finished what they have started. To purge the darkness from him.”
“I… am… not… dark! I am Arthur, once and future king, and—”
“—completely fucking corrupt,” I spat in his direction. He glared and I felt Trystan and Bash’s arms around me tighten.
“She… is right.” The golden-haired knight that spoke up before stood, setting his hand over his heart, and bowing at the waist. “I align with Avalon. For Camelot.” Mathias was nearby, and outstretched a supportive hand on his shoulder, inclining his head gratefully at him.
One by one, all but Lamorak, the knights stood and spoke the golden-haired knight’s same words: “I align with Avalon, for Camelot.” Arthur squeaked out pathetic breaths and grunts on the ground, struggling to stand. Lamorak assisted him up, and Arthur adjusted his cloak over his shoulders, straightening the broach at the base of his throat, and smoothing his hair over his chest.
“Traitors! The lot of you—you will all be condemned to—”
“No, Arthur. This is one battle you cannot win.” Bedivere said calmly behind him, and Arthur spun around on his heels, glaring daggers at him.
“You will regret this.”
“Milord, just let them heal you. It is clear, majesty, there is something inside of you that—” Bedivere began, but Arthur cut him off with a gesture.
“No! You will not touch me again! You… you…” At a loss for words, he tossed Rhys and me accusatory glares, and tore through the room for the door to escape. Mathias was the first to charge him, but Bedivere shook his head in warning.
Arthur tossed open the door, intending to dart out but was blocked.
Rhys put a hand to his mouth, and gasped in shock. I pulled away from Trystan and Bash to smile at my cousin.
“Mordred? How…” Rhys uttered in shock.
Mordred stood in the doorway, blocking it with his body, preventing Arthur from leaving. When Arthur glared, and charged at him, Mordred grinned and drew a silver blade from his waist. “Thank you… Bedivere.”