𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔅𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔰
VICTORIA'S FACE HAD WRINKLES. That's what she saw when she gazed into the mirror behind the boy standing above her, sword point held to her neck. The boy was faceless yet words still flowed through a mouth that couldn't not be seen.
"It's time for a new era to begin," it boomed, young but powerful and in pain. "You and my father have shown too much pity to those who defy your laws. You are too kind!"
"I raised you on kindness, my son," she heard herself beg. "You do not have to do this. You can stop and I will forgive you."
"What's happened to you?!" He shouted, sword trembling in his hand and scraping the delicate skin in her throat. "You were once known as the Red Queen, the woman of bloodlust and vengeance! And now you forgive those who have murdered your kin in old blood feuds?! You are weak and Albion needs someone strong. And that person is me."
The dream ended as thunder cracked loudly in the sky. Victoria reached a hand up to her throat, feeling wetness but pulling it back only to see clear sweat and not the crimson color of blood. She sighed in relief, laying back down against her pillows and closing her eyes.
"Victoria," Arthur murmured, eyes cracking open at the shift in the bed.
Victoria grabbed his hand, as much for her own comfort as his, saying, "I'm alright. Go back to sleep."
He groaned and rolled back over to his side, drifting off while she lay awake, thinking about her dream. But what Nimueh had said to her that night stuck with her and caused her to rethink the things she was seeing. Perhaps it was not a dream but a vision.
Victoria turned over to hopefully lull herself back to sleep as well. However, her hopes of this happening were shattered as a shrill scream echoed through the castle.
Arthur, alert as if he hadn't just been snoring so deeply that Victoria would have thought there was a storm outside, jumped up and grabbed his sword that he kept leaning up against his nightstand.
"Stay here!" He advised Victoria, throwing open their chamber door and running down the hall to investigate the commotion.
Victoria, never one to let a man tell her what to do, was quick to follow him after throwing on a robe. She found the origin of the scream to be in Morgana's room, the large swarm of guards surrounding her being a very obvious tip-off.
"What happened?" Victoria found herself asking as she entered the room to a shaking Morgana wrapped up in her robe and Gwen's arms.
"Her bedroom caught on fire and the window burst," Uther informed her.
"I came back in with some extra blankets. There was a candle, but I put it out," Gwen tried to explain.
"Are you sure?" Uther pressed.
"I blew it out. I swear."
"Gwen's been Morgana's servant for years," Arthur began as he rose from inspecting the window. His eyes flickered to Victoria. "If she said she blew it out, I believe her."
Uther's eyes were still flaming with wrath. "She could have been burnt alive."
"Lightning struck the roof, that could have caused the fire," Victoria attempted to remedy the situation with a claim that was the most likely.
"Perhaps." The king remained skeptical.
"What other explanation is there?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms and leaning his weight to his right leg.
"Someone started the fire deliberately."
A grim atmosphere settled in the room.
"Victoria!"
The woman stopped as her name was shouted behind her. She turned, dress sweeping against her ankles, to look at who had called her. Morgana was hurrying towards her, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown.
"What is it, Morgana?"
"I need to talk to you," Morgana explained, chest heaving with heavy breaths. "It's urgent."
Victoria, sensing the need for discrepancy in this particular situation, nodded and placed her hand gently on the back of Morgana's elbow; guiding her towards her painting room.
"You come from a kingdom where magic isn't outlawed, correct?" Morgana started as soon as they entered the room and closed the door. "Not—not until very recently, at least."
"Yes, I do. Why are you asking me this?"
"That would mean you're open to magic. Gwen was telling me just the other day how her and Althea were talking and that your people—your court, especially—believe that magic is not to be feared as an entity itself, only in the hands of the people who have ill intent is it to be evil." Morgana paced the floor, rambling on.
"Yes that is correct."
"I—I haven't known you for long, Victoria," Morgana stopped her pace and faced the woman. "But I've heard you speak and I've heard your ideas and I've heard you care. I saw how you reacted in Ealdor when we found out that Will had magic. You didn't flinch, you weren't angry. If anything you were empathetic towards him because of Arthur being there."
"Morgana, what do you mean by all this?"
Morgana drew in a sharp breath. "It was me. I set the room on fire."
"I'm not understanding. Did you knock the candle over?"
"No that's not what happened. I did it just by looking at it," her bottom lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears, "the flames suddenly leapt higher. It was me. It was magic."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!" Morgana shouted. "Otherwise I'm going insane and that can't possibly be it because the window shattered on the courtyard. The window burst from inside of my room. I blew out the window."
"With magic?"
"With magic," Morgana confirmed. "I wouldn't make this up, Victoria."
Victoria furrowed her brow, twisting her fingers together anxiously. She gazed at the floor, thinking of what to do.
She met Morgana's eyes.
"I don't believe I'm the best person to be talking to about this."
"Then who can I talk to?"
Althea sat in wooden chair in Victoria's art room, hands clasped together. Morgana was seated across from her.
"You have magic?" Morgana asked her, voice trembling.
"Yes," Althea nodded.
"So you can teach me how to control it. How—how to get rid of it?"
"You can't get rid of your magic, Morgana." Althea shook her head solemnly. She remembered a time where she felt the same way about her own abilities. She would do anything to be rid of them, anything to have a moment of normalcy. "Especially not magic you were born with."
"I was born with magic?" Morgana gasped. "No, no. Impossible."
"From what you're telling me, you can do magic with no training. You're a rare breed, Morgana. Not many can do what you can do with years of mastery, let alone on a whim."
"I need to learn how to control it. Otherwise the same fate awaits me that many others have been subjected to. You have to teach me how to control it," Morgana begged.
"I can't teach you how to control it. I'm sorry."
"What do you mean you can't teach me?" Morgana exclaimed. "You have magic, same as I do. You can control it. You can teach me."
"No I can't because it's not my type of magic." Morgana's questioning and fearful gaze prompted Althea's explanation. "The type of magic you possess is druidic magic. I'm a faye."
"What's the difference?"
"Druid magic can create gold, pull money from thin air, create a living thing from concrete. Faye magic is nature magic, transformation magic. We can heal, we can change, but we cannot create the way that you can." Althea reached across the way to take Morgana's hands in her own. "Not in the same way. They're different principles. Druid magic comes from both around and within. Faye magic is solely based upon one's bloodline and connection with nature. The magics—they have different temperaments. They have different rules.
"A faye doing druidic magic is like us drinking ocean water to stay alive. It's possible but it will eventually kill us. A druid using faery magic is like a match producing water instead of flames. It's not the way of things."
Morgana sat there, numbly nodding along to Althea's explanations.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Then Morgana looked up and asked the question Althea had been dreading. "Do you know of anyone who uses druid magic?"
Althea sat on her bed in Gwen's house that night, biting her lip as nerves overcame her. She hoped she did the right thing. She had to have done the right thing. There was no other way.
Miles and miles away, in Althea's old home, Diaval shot up in a cold sweat. His body was raked with tremors as he leaned over the side of his bed to hurl. As he came back to a sitting position, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he was struck with the feeling that something awful had just been set in motion.
a/n: so a relatively short and uneventful chapter. however, a very important one in relation to the plot and events that will transpire in the future. it did deviate a lot from the original source material but i hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless!