Greetings, milord and milady!
This is the second and final part of Camelot, I Will Return. If you skipped the first part, here’s a chance to catch up! Better still, if you want to know more about the historical facts of the Arthurian times, so that you get proper background for this tale, check it out! 🙂
Recap: Morgan just finds out that her evil sister is in her room…
A hot rush of anger warms me.
I rock on my heels, indecisive. She is most probably planning an attack, and there is no doubt she knows that I am aware of her presence. But does she expect me to head to my room, to confront her, or stay by the King’s side?
Snarling to myself, I make a decision. I shall finish her off in my room.
‘Forgive my interruption, sire.’ I interrupt anyway. ‘I have an urgent matter to see to. I shall return in short order.’
The King hardly hears me, listening to an account by Sir Lancelot of his duel with a dragon. He waves me off with an airy hand.
I leave. I take the stairs, the party’s rowdy atmosphere left behind as I ascend three levels. I step through the door of my bed chamber, and am promptly assaulted by a hurled dagger.
I halt it midway with my magic, flinging it away to the side, so that it thuds harmlessly onto a wooden chest.
‘You have stooped lower than I have expected, sister.’ I look at Morgause as she slinks out of the voluminous curtains, her dress rustling against the side of my bed.
‘Neglecting thy duty, sister?’ She bypasses my verbal jab with one of her own.
‘The King is protected—’
‘—By my drunken son.’ She finishes languidly.
I say nothing. I have already ensured the asinus’ safety, and it is certainly not dependent upon a drunken man.
‘Thy death looms before thee, and Camelot shall be mine.’ Morgause’s eyes glitter with malice as she steps toward me.
‘Death it may be, but not from thy hands!’ With that, I hurl a ball of fire at her.
She combats it with a wall of water. My fire sizzles out, and her water splashes onto my bearskin rug.
‘Temper, temper, sister dear.’ Morgause laughs, a shrill tone that sets my ears ringing.
‘Good eventide, my ladies. Is this mine family gathering?’ Another voice breaks through, from behind me. I whirl around, and narrowly escape another of my sister’s daggers.
King Arthur steps into the room, and irritation overwhelms my anger. The fool.
‘Sire, this is not the place—’ I begin.
‘Morgause, can we begin?’ King Arthur interrupts, speaking over my head to Morgause. He exudes a calm, serious manner, at complete odds with his usual foolish behaviour. This man, I know him not, and it makes me feel as if my feet have been swept from beneath me.
‘Sire, what—’ I asked.
‘Moggen,’ The King turns to me, all trace of laughter gone. ‘I am in love with Morgause.’
‘You jest!’ I exclaim incredulously. I cannot believe my ears. He conspires with Morgause because he is enamoured with her? They are half- siblings!
‘We have a son.’ King Arthur looks tenderly at my sister, and I blanch. ‘He is named Mordred, and he shall be King, one day.’
‘And you, sister, shall be no more.’ Morgause concludes laconically.
I stare in revulsion at them. I am still filled with disbelief and disgust, not yet at the next phase—anger and betrayal.
‘Arthur, Morgause loves you not; do not be led astray. My sister—your half- sister—has not a heart, she will—’ I attempt one last reasoning with the asinus, but he only brushes aside my arguments. He is blinded by love.
They both advance towards me, and I back towards the window. If I can jump, and my magic helps me, I will survive, and flee Camelot. I shall slay Morgause when her back is turned, and lift Camelot from her evil clutches.
‘Surrender, sister.’ Morgause whispers. I reach behind me and grope for the latch with shaking fingers.
My sister suddenly surges towards me, a dagger glinting in her hands. King Arthur smiles sadly at me, shaking his head at my predicament.
She hurls it at me, and it sinks into my abdomen. I gasp at the coolness of steel, before quickly sliding it out, and thrusting it home, into my sister’s heart.
She screams, Arthur howls, and I am falling out of the window, into the frosted air, the snowy landscape spread out before me. A deep crimson stain blooms on my billowing robes, but it is nothing time and magic cannot heal.
A black shape hurtles out, and I fall on my raven. He is magically enlarged; I nestle comfortably between his wings. As I escape, my wide eyes land on my window, silk curtains fluttering like banners in the wind.
The King holds Morgause’s body, his high- pitch keening akin to that of a kettle set to boil. I meet his wild- eyed gaze and inhale sharply—I have left Camelot in the hands of a madman, who cares not a whit for the kingdom, which will soon follow its King and descend into chaos.
Camelot, I will return to thee.
I vow silently, as I soar away to lands unknown.
How do you like the ending? I know I left you hanging from a cliff there… But do not despair, the second series is coming out soon! 🙂
Does King Arthur seem like an ass to you? Do you think what Morgan did is justifiable?