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Post by Lane of Magic on Jan 3, 2008 10:17:37 GMT 9.5
The remark didn’t go well with the former King, and at any other time such insolence might well have made him forget any and all promises and just order the boy to be executed – or better yet, do it himself. These, however, were special circumstances, and Vortigern couldn’t have been in a better mood, nor could he have shown himself more generous to not only spare his life but also remain there to talk to him.
“Not at all,” he replied, a knowing smile playing on his face. “In fact, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you…” Mordred snorted disdainfully, not bothering to turn around – the man was truly grating on his nerves and knowing he was locked up in that cell, those ropes so tight around his hands and making him basically powerless, irked him beyond belief. But Vortigern carried on, unimpressed by this new attitude of Mordred, to give him the cold shoulder and try to ignore him altogether. He knew exactly how to catch his attention.
“I don’t know your definition of «beautiful women», but I’d say our dear Queen is fairly beautiful…” he trailed off, waiting for the words to take effect on the obnoxious brat. And so they did – Mordred felt a pang of horror as he listened, and turned to face the former king, his eyes shooting daggers at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned, already feeling his heart sink as Vortigern’s smile grew wider. “What have you done to her?!”
“Oh, nothing she didn’t want me to…” Vortigern replied in as innocent a tone as he could muster, his eyes glinting with pure satisfaction as he saw the look on the boy’s face. This was also highly entertaining, and he was careful to smoothly move his scratched hand over the bars of the cell, as he spoke. “But if anything, I surely made her feel more than you ever could.”
––-
Despite Loke’s comforting words, despite his obvious effort to appear cheerful and optimistic, Mab knew he didn’t really have any more ideas how to go about this than she did at that point, and she could feel time slipping away, all wasted… And indeed she just sat there, agonising – but it wasn’t all lost, not yet, and she would think of a solution before the two days had passed. She had to.
She knew she also had find a way to tell Merlin, and her thoughts clashed again, as part of her could not even contemplate the idea of the trade, while another could not bare the thought of losing Mordred for good. She wandered through the castle without any particular direction, her mind reeling from the impossible choice, all her being torn with the dread that there might not be a way out after all.
As she stopped and took in the surroundings, she found herself in front of Merlin’s room. The door was only half closed, and he was in the room, but she just stood there for a while, watching him silently from the shadows. He seemed so focused, going through a new book, trying to understand it, to learn the spells and the knowledge it held, all by himself – she wondered for a second where the gnome was, but that was perhaps the last thing she had to worry about. Mab still wasn’t sure whether he was only trying to control his powers or finally let them grow, but at this point just seeing him there was enough. He turned his head towards the door – perhaps it was merely a coincidence, perhaps he had sensed someone was there.
“Mab…” he smiled. She didn’t look much better than earlier, he could tell something was plaguing her, but seeing as she’d already chosen to remain quiet, he thought he could only do his best to at least take her mind off it the only way he knew how. “I’ve been learning a few spells already.”
“You have?” Mab knew she would eventually have to talk to him, but he looked so excited, so proud of himself, that she decided to wait just a little more. She entered and went to sit in a chair near the currently covered with books table, watching him thoughtfully, as he nodded.
“Yes. Look, I’ll show you,” he said, then hurried to take a pen from the table and muttered a short incantation, letting the pen fall from his grasp, watching it as it turned into a light feather before it had reached the floor.
It was one of the simplest spells, but if that might have made her raise an eyebrow in disdain and go ask Frik why he wasn’t there to teach Merlin as she had instructed, instead of leaving him to struggle with everything on his own, the joy which showed on his face as he succeeded in performing the spell did manage to bring a small genuine smile on Mab’s face.
“And at least, now I know how to channel these… magical powers which move things around…” Merlin added, noticing her smile. He did not mention it had happened because he was too tired to control the intensity of the blast and he’d managed to literally smash a book into the opposite wall instead of simply turning the page as intended. Still, he reckoned he’d learned that he was not to lose his patience, when trying any kind of spell so it should not get out of control again.
“That is very good,” Mab replied in a lighter voice, forgetting for a while just how few things were good these days.
“…But I’m not going to try that on you,” he said in good humour, shaking his head reassuringly. He feared for a moment that perhaps she would not find it funny in the least, but Mab looked up at him and spoke before he could start apologizing. And her reaction was not that of someone who’d been insulted.
“I would hope not,” she nearly laughed. “But I think we’re past that stage…” Her expression suddenly darkened, as Merlin watched her, his eyes holding no worry – just joy, enthusiasm at all the magic and spells, ease to be around her. Indeed, he wasn’t against her now, he would not betray her – they had passed that stage. But now, she would be the one to betray the trust he had deposited in her, and for a moment she felt he might even be right to lose all that trust. The Merlin she had strived so hard to persuade to join her would not be surprised by what she had to say. He would surely despise her, condemn her before she had a chance to even finish telling him. But would this one do the same?
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Post by himiko on Jan 3, 2008 13:09:17 GMT 9.5
Mordred stared at Vortigern, his face utterly white, skin bleached of colour.
"Liar," he hissed, "Auntie Mab would never go near you. She loathes you. She wants to see you dead." And surely, his mind told him, surely it had to be a lie, because the spell meant that she would love him, Mordred. She couldn't have betrayed him with Vortigern, she wouldn't. But his eyes strayed back to the scratches on the other man's hand, and he couldn't help but picture Mab's hand, her fingers clawing at flesh, blood on her fingernails. The marks DID look like fingernails. But no. Vortigern was a liar.
And as if he could read his thoughts, Vortigern leaned closer to the bars, and whispered sneeringly, "Well, that wasn't what she said. Mind you," he mused, "She didn't say very much, or at least, nothing coherent." He shrugged, "Perhaps she does hate me. But that doesn't seem to have overly bothered her." Noting Mordred's stricken look, he went on, "Oh, there's no need to look so upset about it, Mordred. You can't help that your lover's a whore."
Oh, that got a reaction. Mordred went from lying still and shocked on the floor, to a struggling, snarling creature in less than a second.
"Don't you dare call her a whore!" he snarled, "You have no right..." Vortigern spoke over him.
"What other term would you use for someone who screams and moans for someone they hate?" he asked, smoothly, "Of course, if you don't believe me, you'll have your chance to ask her yourself soon enough. After all, she can't lie, can she?" And with that, Vortigern turned and walked out of the dungeon, leaving Mordred staring after him, utter hatred burning in his gaze. Either the former king was lying, or it was true. And either way, Mordred thought, Vortigern would die for it.
----
Merlin shifted slightly under Mab's gaze.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, concernedly, "Am I doing something wrong?" Mab blinked, startled, before shaking her head reassuringly.
"No, no, you've done nothing wrong. You've made excellent progress on your own. I... I'm proud of you." Compliments didn't often come from Mab, and whether it was because of this rarity, or simply because he wanted to please her, Merlin smiled widely at this comment, shuffling rather awkwardly, as though embarassed, before looking back up.
"So what's wrong?" he asked, "Why did you scream earlier?" Mab thought for a moment, wondering what to say.
"Vortigern- one of the contestants to the throne- has captured Mordred. He wants to kill him..." Mab trailed off, and Merlin looked down at the ground.
"I'm sorry," he replied. He loathed Mordred with a vengeance, but he knew that Mab adored him for whatever reason, "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"Yes..." Mab admitted, "But..." She gritted her teeth, unable to force the words out. "Merlin, you trust me, don't you?" Merlin nodded, earnestly, ignoring the earlier words in his head, the ones that had told him not to trust Mab. Of course he trusted her. How could he not? And Mab thought her self loathing could reach no higher. Merlin trusted her, he trusted her, and she was going to give him to Vortigern. And even if he lived, how would he ever forgive her for that?
"Merlin," she whispered softly, "You are doing well with your studies. Carry on with them, I will send Frik to help you."
"Can't you stay?" Merlin asked, sounding disappointed. Mab smiled and shook her head.
"I need to speak with Loke. But I'll come back later, and you can show me what you've learned." Merlin nodded in agreement. Mab hesitated again, "Merlin, I think you should try spells for battle next."
"Why?" Merlin asked blankly, "Do you want me to fight a battle?" Mab shook her head.
"I want you to be able to protect yourself," she replied sincerely.
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Post by Libitine on Jan 6, 2008 0:03:10 GMT 9.5
After recent events, Idath was even more puzzled by his ex-lover’s behavior. Mab was probably the last person he would imagine involved with Vortigern or Mordred. It almost seemed absurd. Why would she have gotten herself into such a mess? What would have compelled her so? He sauntered over to his cauldron, this time not looking for the Mab of the present, but the Mab of the past. Idath, in his stubbornness, was determined to figure out what had caused her sudden change in behavior. He waved his hand and the water on the surface of the cauldron broke and rippled. At first, the image was unclear, unmoving, but as he peered in closer, her could see two bodies intertwined. Idath slowly backed away. “No; not again.” “. . . Idath . . .” He walked forward again, both out of curiosity and fear. Idath set his hands on the rim of the cauldron and peered inside. The Lord of Winter saw what he thought he would see; the last time he and Mab had made love, when they were trying to create a child. He saw her arch her back and moan with pleasure as he had his way. He watched his past self kiss her all the way down her body. He tilted his head as her knuckles turned white from gripping the bedpost. She cried out to him again and again. He could almost see the pleasured grin on his face. Idath watched until his past self rolled to Mab’s side and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. But, it was only now; now that he was able to see her from a different angle, that he noticed tears in her eyes. Tears? But, alas, tears . . . Could they be tears of regret? Fear? Or even, perhaps, she knew that they would never be like this again. Maybe that reality had brought her to tears. Maybe, she was willing to have his child for other reasons besides saving the Old Ways. Maybe, in that one singular moment, she had loved him. Idath only let these thoughts swim in his head, because that had been precisely what he had been feeling. He had held her close, wishing that they could stay this way. Wishing that they had completed the act not out of duty, but out of love like they used to. He had wished that she felt the same, even if only for a moment. And now, as Idath stared at the image in the cauldron, he began to believe that she had. Slowly, the image began to fade. Idath waved his hand, in a sad attempt to make it surface but it didn’t. He cried out with rage, his hands gripping the edge of the cauldron. He did love her. With another angered growl, he slapped the surface of the water. “Tell me what changed!” Idath bellowed. The cauldron went dark, the images having been erased. There was nothing. In fact, the blank, black surface of the cauldron - not giving the Lord of Death any solace - quite made Idath feel even more defeated. “Mab . . .” Idath whispered helplessly, but his defeat turned to anger once more. He stepped away from the cauldron, rubbing his eyes roughly to remove both the image from his head and stinging tears of his own. "How could you love someone else?" He whispered to himself. "After everything . . ." Idath gave one final stare at his Cauldron of Rebirth, and then crept back into the shadows.
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jan 6, 2008 11:54:15 GMT 9.5
While the Lord of Death seemed to have rendered himself to memories with the fear that perhaps there was nothing he could do to find out what was wrong with Mab, Loke himself was not faring much better in the Land of Magic. Being the Lord of Fire truly was no fun these days – after having spent hours in the tiring, not to mention completely boring and uninspiring job of looking through his sister’s books and resisting the urge to set alight the entire library when nothing seemed to hold any answers, he was now up against what appeared to be another problem with no solution. Much as he tried to think of a way to solve this – both the spell and the trade – there was precious little he had come up with so far. Of course, he could have been worse, and he realised that as soon as his sister walked in.
“You’ve told him?” Mab shook her head.
“Only that Vortigern is holding Mordred prisoner,” she replied, with a tired sigh. The Lord of Fire shrugged, not really knowing what best to say.
“Hm…Well, would you like me to talk to…“
“When and what I choose to tell him is my choice, Loke. Is that understood?” Mab cut him off sharply. She knew her brother only wanted to make himself useful but there probably wasn’t much he could do and the last thing she needed was messengers.
“No need to snap,” Loke replied, in a suspiciously calm voice, considering his own temper. But somehow this was no time for bickering, and he had even more on his mind than Mab thought, not that she minded him.
“Besides, I have yet to think of a way to go around this bargain, so there wasn’t much else I could have told him anyway. And he looked so happy with his progress and magic, that I didn’t want…” she trailed off, knowing the more she waited, the less time there would be for Merlin to take it all in and the worse his reaction would be, but at the same time hoping to find a some way to reassure him with more than instructions that he learn to protect himself.
“I know what you mean,” the Lord of Fire replied, understanding all too well what his sister was going through. “You didn’t want to shatter that.” Mab nodded slightly, then began to pace up and down, as Loke frowned for a moment, then spoke again.
“Well, you said you have to take him to Vortigern when the two days have passed, yes?”
“Yes. Otherwise, he would kill Mordred.”
“That is something we must avoid at any cost…” Loke said thoughtfully. At any other time, she might have found it suspicious that her brother was suddenly so concerned about Mordred, but at this point there was no time to muse over his attitude and she could only nod in agreement, as Loke carried on.
“And he said he would not harm Merlin, if you swore to help him in his battle against Cornwall.”
“Yes, which means that I don’t ultimately have that many options, no matter how I look at it. Thank you, Loke. Now tell me something I don’t know,” Mab hissed impatiently.
“That’s just it, you made those promises. I, on the other hand, didn’t promise anything,” the Lord of Fire pointed out, grinning. Mab ceased her pacing, and considered this for a moment.
“True… So what are you suggesting?” Knowing the solutions her brother would usually choose, Mab doubted he had thought of anything short of risky, far-fetched, and generally unlikely to succeed. In this case, however, it might be the solution she needed.
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Post by Libitine on Jan 7, 2008 4:20:22 GMT 9.5
"Well," Loke began simply. "Since it was you would made all these terribly convenient promises and not I, it means that the rules do not apply to me."
Mab raised an eyebrow. "But Vortigern will know that I sent you." She said.
"Except, sister, you didn't send me." Loke said. "I would have gone out of the goodness of my heart." Of course, Loke wasn't interested in going out of 'goodness' or even out of the desire to help Mab. He wanted Mordred back so that the brat could reverse this god-awful spell. The Lord of Fire was sure Mordred knew the way to do so, and he was determined to get Mab back to her normal self, for everyone's sake.
"Besides," Loke said. "Even if I do rescue him from the king's dungeons, it is not like Vortigern can suddenly appear here and take him back."
Mab thought for a moment. It seemed to simple; too flawed. Yes, she wanted Mordred back safe, but she couldn't risk Loke's magical entry and exit into Vortigern's castle setting off the guards. She had made the king a promise, whether or not she truly wanted to keep it. Gods, her head hurt.
Then again, what if this opportunity never again presented itself. What if this was her chance to get Mordred back, granted he hadn't gotten himself into enough trouble as it was. Maybe it was worth a shot.
Mab clenched her fists. Why was such a simple decision taking her so long to make? She wanted Mordred back. It was so easy!
Mab sighed deeply. "If I were to invest more time and energy into this 'plan' of yours, Loke," She said slowly. "Could you tell me exactly how you plan to get Mordred from Vortigern?"
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Post by himiko on Jan 7, 2008 21:42:41 GMT 9.5
Loke thought carefully for a moment.
"That depends on how much risk you wish to take," he replied, "The most obvious plan is for me to appear in the castle at some point over the next two days, and try and grab Mordred and get out. I imagine he's in the dungeons..."
"Yes, Loke," Mab growled, "I had made that tremendous leap of logic myself. However, the dungeons at Pendragon are large- they have to be, for the amount of prisoners Vortigern has- and Mordred could be anywhere in them. You may have made no promises, but Vortigern's guards will act first and think later, and if they kill him..." Loke frowned. To be sure, that was the worst that could happen, and was precisely what he was trying to avoid. However, there were other options.
"That's true," he admitted, "But I do have another suggestion. He wants you to trade Merlin for Mordred, correct?" Mab nodded, looking increasingly exasperated, "So at some point, you, Mordred and Merlin must all be in the same place for this trade to go ahead." Understanding began to dawn on Mab's face, "So, say the trade all goes ahead as planned- you have Mordred, safe and sound, and Vortigern has Merlin, then, before you all leave, I can appear and grab Merlin back. After all, he will be in the same place as you, so if I simply transport myself directly to you, I won't have to worry about finding him in time." Mab considered this.
"It might work," she admitted, "Might. But that means putting my son at a huge amount of risk, Loke. If you don't get to him in time..." she trailed off, remaining silent for a moment. Normally, she would never consent to a plan like this. It was far too risky, it relied too much on chance. But it seemed she had very few other options.
"I don't like the idea. I don't want to risk my son's life. I want to keep looking for ideas," she told her brother, "But if we're left with no other option..." Loke nodded sympathetically.
"It's not ideal by any means, Mab. But it's the least un-ideal out of all the options so far." Mab sighed, and nodded unwillingly.
"Indeed. Which is why we need more options." Loke nodded, walking towards the door of the library, planning to search for Frik, in the hope that the gnome might have found out something about the love spell in the meantime. Not that he held out much hope, but still, there was always a possibility.
--
The Lord of Death, meanwhile, sat in his own library. He was no longer looking for books, merely sitting musing over the situation.
He could no longer pretend that Mab's actions didn't hurt. The memories in the cauldron had made sure of that. Nor could he pretend that he had the right to claim her heart as his- neither he nor any other possessed that right, and he himself had made the decision to distance himself from her. But still, the memories of her lying with Mordred and then Vortigern burned into his mind. He knew that something had to be wrong- Mab was always unpredictable, but there was a difference between unpredictable, and something as utterly out of her character as sleeping with a man she hated, and another who she had shown no romantic feelings towards up until this point, especially in such short a time.
Hesitantly- for the words he had spoken to her the last time he had been in her kingdom no doubt guaranteed him a less than warm welcome- Idath prepared to go to the Land of Magic. Perhaps if he spoke to her, he might find out the reason for her behaviour- and if he knew the reasons, maybe it would be easier to put the past behind him and move on from the Queen of the old Ways?
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Post by Libitine on Jan 8, 2008 11:06:41 GMT 9.5
Mab took the opportunity to take some time for herself. No, it wasn't that promising to get time alone, but as she walked in front of her palace, she suddenly found herself more at ease. She sighed, not able to remember when her emotions were so out of control. Kicking a rock into the river, Mab's eyes wandered to the mouth of the cave. She remembered the day Merlin had floated into her kingdom on her sister's boat. He had been so young and looked so innocent. That was the day she regretted most. If only she could go back there . . . things would be different. Mab shook her head. There wasn't time to muse on the past. She had to think of Mordred and how to get him back. Yes, Loke's 'plan' gave her possibilities, but it had it's drawbacks. For one thing, she was sure Vortigern would be on the lookout for her and any spark of magic that might come within a foot of her nephew. Mab extended her hand, and a rock flew out of the water and landed in her palm. She turned the black stone over in her hand, feeling the cold marble against her skin. I am going to create a leader for the people; a powerful wizard, who will save Britain and bring the people back to us, and the Old Ways. Mab sighed once again. It was useless to dwell on the past. Why did she suddenly have to keep telling herself that? "Think of Mordred." She said out loud. "Think of getting him back." Maybe it was useless to have put so much faith in Merlin. He was, after all, a very young thing. He did, compared to her, have very little experience with magic, and even less now that is memory had been distorted. Maybe Mab had put far too much faith in everyone. She rolled her eyes. Why did she depend on everyone else to do her dirty work? She should have done things for herself for the start. Then she wouldn't be in the twisted mess. And it was just a mess. It made her head throb just thinking about it. The Queen of the Old Ways tossed the rock back into the water as she paced in front of the white marble steps to her palace. Maybe she should lie down. "No." She whispered to herself sharply. "Figure out what to do about Mordred first." But she was just so tired . . . She was always tired lately. Would she ever not be tired or was she forever condemned to weakness? Weakness. Mab shivered and then let out a low growl. What a degrading word. Why even dream of associating herself with such a thing? Mab brushed a strand of hair from her face. She had to get a hold of herself. Turning back towards the river, Mab placed her hands on her hips. Since her pacing had done her absolutely no good, she had no choice but to go with Loke's suggestion. "It is going to work." She said softly. "Everything is going to be alright." Feeling someone else near her, Mab shivered. She heard the shuffling of feet. Frik . . . She thought with a sigh, utterly annoyed that he had chosen to interrupt her. "Frik what do you---" Mab began as she turned around. She stopped speaking when she discovered that it wasn't the misshapen excuse-for-a-servant she was talking to. It was Idath.
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jan 9, 2008 3:32:40 GMT 9.5
“Idath…” Mab acknowledged rather coldly. He was not amongst the people she had the greatest desire to see, but he might well have been the last person she had expected to come here. Still, here he was, and looking far more calm than the last time he’d paid her a visit.
“Could we talk?” he asked quietly, and Mab seemed to ponder this for a moment.
“This isn’t a good time. Besides, I thought we’d already said everything there was to say…” she trailed off, while he just stared at her, knowing she did have a point, but still hoping she would not tell him to leave. Whether she noticed the strange expression on his face, which betrayed an almost contrite attitude, or she just thought he might be able to give her a new suggestion on what could be done - after all, she needed all the help she could get - she headed for the castle, “Come inside.”
She spoke no word, and neither did Idath, as they went through the winding corridors. She had initially thought to go to the library, but as they approached the place, Mab could sense that Merlin was there, this time accompanied by Frik, who was finally doing his job and had started the lessons again.
“So he’s doing better now,” Idath commented.
“Yes, in a way.” She chose not to go into details, and let him know that his memories hadn’t returned, that they had just started everything over. There certainly was no point in going there now, so she changed direction, walking towards her rooms instead. Idath followed her, secretly feeling rather relieved – he had little wish to spend time in a place which would surely bring back images he’d tried hard to forget. He wondered briefly where her warrior might be, but imagined that perhaps he wasn’t even here anymore, after her latest alliance with Vortigern.
“Well, I suppose you came here for a reason?” Mab asked as soon as they entered the room, not wanting to ask for his help before knowing what his stand was. Idath hesitated, thinking how best to put it - obviously, he would have to go very carefully about this.
“Mab, I know certain things have happened and I know it can’t have been easy for you…” he began carefully.
“Yes, Idath, certain things have happened, but I don’t understand why you would come here now.” She was in no mood for any pleasantries or careful introductions, and he could only give her an honest reply.
“I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Mab almost rolled her eyes at such an Utopia – she would need Mordred back, her son safe and preferably two less contestants to the throne, before she could even imagine being alright – but Idath hurried to speak again.
“Perhaps I was too…” and here he gritted his teeth and forced the words out, “…harsh the last time we talked.” He still felt the same way about that binding spell, naturally, but he fought back every feeling of anger, knowing that remembering all that went wrong would surely result in a fight and he would not have the slightest chance of finding out what had happened, if there was indeed something wrong with her, for she seemed quite lucid and as in control of herself as ever.
“Perhaps…” Mab smiled bitterly. She knew he had his reasons to still be angry, and she couldn’t blame him for it, but, on the other hand, the deed was done and she could not afford to dwell on it anymore, not now. She raised her head and met his gaze – she knew she might drive him away for good, but it would be for the best to lay things bare.
“I hope you haven’t come here expecting apologies this time as well,” Mab said, but despite the firm tone, she felt she did owe him an explanation at least, and continued, her voice somewhat softer. “I know it wasn’t something you would ever agree with, but it was all I could do back then. I could not lose my son, I just couldn’t give him up before his time had come. I am sorry it had to come down to that, but the truth is, I would do it again.” She turned from him, as she finished the sentence, and Idath couldn’t help shaking his head, but he wasn’t really surprised.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“You’re still here,” Mab noted almost surprised, when she turned around. Idath gave a small smile.
“Yes. Because I know something is wrong. It might be for the sake of old aquaintance, as you once put it, but I can’t sit by and do nothing.” For a moment, she wanted to reach out, to tell him about the trade, about how torn she felt – he might not have offered his unconditional help, but he had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t indifferent to what was going on. But something stopped her from saying too much, not yet.
“This time it’s more complicated, and… I’m not sure even I can manage to make it right,” Mab admitted, as the worst fears seemed to swamp her again. Idath was very tempted to agree, but decided not to say anything for a while.
Still, some things were quite simple – the more time she wasted, the less chances there would be to get both Mordred and Merlin back safely, there was no doubt about it; apart from that, Mab knew she had yet to tell her son about Loke’s plan, and then something felt ever more wrong - the tiredness seemed to turn into confusion and it felt as if it had reached the point where it was clouding her judgement. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear her mind, to sort out her thoughts.
Idath had stood there, watching her silently, hoping Mab would let him know how it had all come to pass, not ignore him again. There would have to be a logical explanation for everything, and he would be able to at least move on and stop racking his brain over what might have happened. He couldn’t help notice a small frown, and came towards her, doubting his own sanity as he found himself encouraging her.
“It’s alright, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll find a solution, you always do… Tell me what happened,” he said softly. But his words seemed to go by unnoticed, as she grimaced slightly, knowing all too well she did not always find a solution. The confusion was slowly turning into anger and helplessness again, and memories she herself had suppressed so far almost made her cringe.
Of course, there was no way the Lord of Death could read Mab’s thoughts, but he was genuinely worried by now, seeing her like that. He reached out, touched her cheek gently, trying to turn her face towards him, “Mab… Look at me.”
I told you to look at me… It had been a very unfortunate choice of words for his part, that was for sure, but one that would cost him nonetheless. “No!” she growled, pulled away from Idath, and before she could realise properly what she was doing, she let out all her anger in one swift movement of her head, accompanied by a wide gesture of her arm, which managed to send Idath positively flying backwards. The blow was unexpected and the powerful impact with the wall surely did not go well with the Lord of Death. But other things hurt much more.
He remembered the images of her and Mordred, the way she was looking at him enchanted, wanting him, yearning for his touch, for his kisses… He remembered the scene which had haunted him incessantly from the moment he laid eyes on it – the short moments he’d seen her with Vortigern, as they seemed to devour each other in some kind of wild, tameless passion.
And for a second, he hated her – hated her for having defied him the way she had, for having despised everything he’d done and all he’d gone through for her sake, for having replaced him so easily, first with a spoiled brat, and then with a brute. Whether this behaviour had a clear cause and she had no control over herself or not, Idath couldn’t even imagine who he might see her with next, and although he’d done his best not to let it show just how much it angered him and he’d even tried to comfort her, she’d still chosen to lash out at him - it certainly was puzzling, but it also made his blood boil. At that point, he knew he could not keep his own rage under control anymore.
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Post by himiko on Jan 9, 2008 11:02:00 GMT 9.5
Mab blinked for a moment as she watched Idath crash into the opposite wall, almost surprised, her moment of fury passing as swiftly as it had arrived as her mind registered that the Lord of Death was not Vortigern, hadn't known, hadn't meant anything by it.
"I..." she muttered quietly, "I shouldn't ..." Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, however, Idath's gaze shot up to meet hers, his eyes flashed with fury, and suddenly she too was flying through the air, though not with quite so much force- she ended up skidding across the floor, rather than hitting the wall. Still, when Mab pulled herself to her feet and turned back to face Idath, all the faintest traces of apology had vanished from her expression, her own temper had flared.
"How dare you use magic against me in my own kingdom?" she snarled, furiously.
"You attack me for no reason, and then condemn me for doing the same," Idath shouted back at her, "Do you even recognise the word "reasonable" any more?"
"You don't understand," replied Mab, tiredly, before going on in a marginally less angry tone, "Perhaps I overreacted..."
"Oh, indeed, perhaps," he interrupted scornfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Not that it would have been the first time you would have taken the oppurtunity to use me to take out your anger at a situation which I "wouldn't understand"."
"If you plan to act like a petulant child..."
"And always you belittle me," Idath roared, before going on more softly, "I am not a child, Mab. I was your lover once, remember? I have known you since the dawn of time, I have seen you laugh and cry, and triumph and fail, and love and mourn, and yet you keep pushing yourself away from me."
"Fine words, Idath," Mab replied, her voice tight with anger and tiredness, "But you have done your own share of pushing me away."
"It seems you've had little enough trouble finding a replacement for me," Idath observed, coldly, and Mab flinched- it seemed Idath knew about Mordred, which was all well and good in itself, but his words served only to remind her of what she stood to lose.
"He is not merely a replacement for you," Mab replied coldly, not knowing what else to say, and in her confusion and tiredness, lashing out, "You are exceedingly arrogant to think that your company was so vital to me that I had either need or desire to seek out a replica." Idath's eyes narrowed again, his anger only increasing at Mab's replies.
"Forgive me, Mab, which "he" are we referring to now?" he asked, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt, "After all, let's not pretend there aren't multiple possibilities in this case." At that moment, the doors to the room swung open and Loke peered in at the scene before him.
"What in the name of the Gods is going on?" he asked in exasperation, "I could hear the shouting from halfway across the palace." The two former lovers, however, ignored his question.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Mab demanded quietly, her voice strained. Idath raised an eyebrow, his expression still furious.
"Oh, come now, Mab, no need to be modest. Was it Vortigern? Or Mordred? I know you lay with Vortigern after him, but who knows, perhaps he's the forgiving kind. Or someone else, perhaps?" Had Idath been paying attention, he might have noticed Loke's expression suddenly change to a look of utter confusion as Idath uttered the name "Vortigern". He might also have noticed the colour drain from Mab's face at the same moment, might have noticed that her gaze had left his, that she gave a tiny flinch at each successive accusation. However, he wasn't. All the injustice and the anger and the hurt at what he had seen, all that he had tried to hide, had come to the fore, and he couldn't help but let the words spill from him, "How many others have there been, Mab? Did you look so tenderly at them? Did you give yourself to them so easily? Because you never did for me..." Sensing that this discussion was going too far, the Lord of Fire stepped forward, between Mab and Idath, holding out his hands.
"That's enough," he said firmly, "Before either of you says something you'll regret." Idath peered down at Mab, his anger beginning to ebb away.
"I did everything I could for you," he muttered helplessly, "And it was never enough. I came here to help you, to see what was wrong, even though I saw you with Mordred, and with Vortigern..." Mab lifted her head to meet his gaze, and Idath couldn't help but be shocked by what he saw- he had seen Mab lose her composure, yes, and worse than this, but never because of his words. It occured to him that perhaps, in his anger, he'd gone too far with his words, but before he could try and apologise, Mab spoke, her voice shaking.
"And now you expect me to be grateful, because you came even though you were jealous. Or perhaps you were hoping to be next in line," she spat, hoarsely, "You're pathetic." And with that, she turned away, vanishing from the room as she did so. Loke waited a moment before turning back to Idath.
"You idiot!" he said, exasperated, "What did you say to her?"
"It doesn't matter," Idath replied dully, "Every time I come here, it simply serves to make things worse. I'll leave."
"No, wait," Loke burst out suddenly, before Idath could do precisely that, "You don't understand."
"So people keep telling me."
Loke shoved a book towards Idath, a large, ancient volume written in the language of the faeries. One page was marked, and Idath opened it, astonished to find himself confronted with some sort of love spell.
"Frik found this in the library," Loke told him by way of explanation, "He believes, and I agree with him, that somehow Mordred used this on Mab- she's been acting oddly lately, and I know she and Mordred have become lovers..." Idath stared at the page before him. A love spell. Mab was under a spell's influence, not her own. He knew that probably shouldn't give him cause for celebration, but he couldn't help feeling a little relieved. But then he frowned- something still didn't make sense.
"But I saw her in the cauldron, with Vortigern," he mused, wincing at the memories, "If she's supposedly in love with Mordred, then why..." Loke's eyes clouded in anger as realisation dawned. Not towards Idath, nor Mab, but towards Mordred, and especially Vortigern.
"Do you have any idea what I had to do just to get these two days?..."
"Because that idiot boy got himself captured by Vortigern," he replied slowly, "And the bastard's willing to trade him back to Mab, for a price. One of his terms was that she give Merlin to him in exchange. I would guess that... what you saw was another. She didn't go into details." As the implications of Loke's words sank in, Idath mentally kicked himself for his words to Mab.
"Gods," he murmured, "I have to go to her, apologise..."
"Wait," Loke replied, swiftly, "She mustn't find out about the spell, not yet."
"Why not?" demanded Idath, "Does she not have the right to know, before she gives her son to his death, that it is for false reasons?" Loke sighed in exasperation.
"If Mab finds out, she will leave Mordred to his well-deserved fate, and he will die. Idath, she is under a love spell, remember? If he dies before it's broken, you know what would happen to her."
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Post by Libitine on Jan 9, 2008 12:58:03 GMT 9.5
Idath looked at Loke a moment. He was ridden with guilt. Why did his anger always seem to get the better of him? He nodded. "Yes I know." He whispered. "Please, just let me apologize."
Loke, who looked as if he had had just about enough with the two of them, slowly backed away, shrugging slightly.
When Idath found Mab, he was taken aback. She was trembling, he could see it clearly. She was pale and her face displayed signs of worry, regret, and hurt. Idath lowered his head. Why had he thrown her so hard?
"Mab," He whispered softly, his eyes drifting back up to her. "I shouldn't have . . ." His voice trailed off. "I hadn't any idea . . ." He didn't continue, and she didn't respond. Idath shuddered. She looked so sad; so humiliated.
He longed to touch her, reach out to her. Idath wanted to comfort her more than anything, make it all better. Not only did he know he didn't have the power, but he also knew she would never allow him to.
He loved her. He loved her, and hated her. He wished her dead and wished her in his arms all at the same time. Idath shook his head. His feelings could not get the better of him. No, not again. It left him with weakness. It left him with nothing.
Idath walked toward her slowly and watched as Mab cringed. "I am not going to hurt you." He whispered softly, as if talking to a very small child.
"You aren't?"
She spoke finally, her voice shaky and in a near whisper. It sounded like the soft rustling of leaves. Mab just looked so vulnerable; her pride having been defeated. The way her face was set, the way her eyes fluttered down, it all reminded him of how weak she had been after her stay in the Forest of the Night. He had helped carry her to her bed, and tried to heal her wound, all while resisting the urge to loose his temper, break down . . . collapse. Mab looked right now that she was trying hard to do the same.
Idath blinked, staring at her, taking her in. "Mab," He whispered her name like it held holy power; as if her name alone was the answer and the slightest whisper would fix everything. He watched as she shifted and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe, Idath hoped, if what he was about to say would heal her; break her from the confines of the spell.
"I . . ." His voice broke and Idath changed his tone completely. It was here he made his error. His face hardened. "You hurt me." He said with a firmness to his whisper.
"And you haven't hurt me, Lord Idath?" Mab whispered in reply, her eyes fixated on the ground.
Idath flushed. His skin tingled and his eyes flashed. "You slept with them. You broke my heart when you let the Romans affect you. You tore me up when you allowed the Christians to change you. You killed me as the images of you with those men flickered inside my cauldron. I watched it all."
Mab looked so hurt, like a wingless butterfly; a broken fairy, as she stood there, painfully taking in all he was saying.
The Lord of Death took a deep breath, and stepped toward her. She backed away, into a wall, and took a shallow breath.
"Mab, I love you." Idath whispered finally.
With this, her eyes flickered upward. They narrowed menacingly and her fists clenched.
"You love me?" She spat. "You love me?"
Her wolf eyes burned into his, the flames that had been burning behind his irises extinguished.
"You know not what love is." She continued. "You, hide away, set in a fit of jealousy, have the nerve to come here and use your power on me, and then you say you love me. You do not know love! Idath, Lord of Death, you know only the hunt. You have never given love and it has never been given to you!"
Idath's face fell and he stepped forward once more. "Do you mean to tell me, Mab, Queen of the Old Ways, that you have never once, not once, in all the years I have known you," At this her eyes narrowed further. "In all the history we have had, you have never once loved me?"
---
'tis not very good i am afraid.
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Post by Incapability on Jan 10, 2008 0:00:27 GMT 9.5
Mab's instincive reaction was that she should tell him that no, she had never loved him, and never would, and that all they had ever been was a lie, one of her prettier illusions. After all, that was what would be for the best. What use could love be, anyway? She had been right, already from the beginning. Love meant weakness. The world was better off without it.
Didn't she feel it herself? Wasn't she being torn by her love? Had it not been her love that had brought her where she was now?
Her love for her people - and she was bleeding to death for them, and who would save them if she was gone? Her love for Merlin - it had almost killed him, and was killing her now. And her love for Mordred, that was putting her through an agony she was not sure she could survive. No, the world - and Mab herself - would have been better off without love.
And those last thoughts, she spoke out loud, with a tight, bitter voice that she herself hardly recognised. "Why do you yearn for love like a teenage boy, Lord of Death? Why do you want this answer from me, even though you know that only pain can come from it, for both of us?"
Idath swallowed, and already regretted his outburst. It really had come at the worst possible time. And for a moment he considered revoking the foolish words that had slipped out. After all, what use was it to throw declarations of love at someone who, even if she might once have wanted to, was not free to love you back?
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jan 10, 2008 2:22:12 GMT 9.5
Part of him knew it would be of no use to challenge her that way, that she would probably never have openly admitted to loving him anyway, even free from all spells. She had indeed been changed – by the mortals, by all the losses, even by him. Idath had made himself believe that maybe forcing her into admitting to having feelings for him would be enough this time as well, but her refuse to answer him, the way she phrased it, was enough to shatter more than just that belief.
“Perhaps I was just trying to hold on to something that’s never been there,” he muttered the words and felt so stupid, pathetic, deceived in his expectations. He wasn’t sure anymore what he was doing here, he knew he had come to apologise, but everything had just turned into a painful talk – he knew it would not be easy, but he had hoped he would manage to open her eyes before it was too late.
“Oh…” Mab stared at him for a moment. She’d felt only anger at first, seeing him there, selfish enough to try and make her remember events long gone, feelings long forgotten. But now she too felt hurt and instinctively wanted to hurt back, whether it was because she’d allowed him to see her like this, or because hearing him doubt the reality of all they’d once shared was almost an insult which she would not tolerate.
“If that is what you believe, maybe you are right.” The Lord of Death stood there frozen, seeing everything tumble down even though he’d closed his eyes as her words washed over him. Mab, however, continued, “But it doesn’t matter now. Is that why you’re here, out of jealousy? To talk about the past?” Idath shook his head and sighed.
“I wanted to help you…” he admitted quietly, and Mab looked up suddenly, seeing something she might use.
“Then maybe you can. You say you love me, very well – you should know… how I feel,” she said hurriedly, advancing a few steps towards him.
“How you…” the Lord of Death gave her a puzzled look, not quite following.
“Yes.” She hesitated for a moment, as if considering something, then spoke again, “Loke has obviously talked to you, maybe he’s told you of his plan. So maybe you can help him, help me …get Mordred back.” Idath positively cringed, hearing the desperation in her voice, realising all her torment and pain had in fact nothing to do with him. And even though he knew all this was the effect of a spell and that this desperation was just the beginning, there was only so much he could take.
“I can’t do that,” he gritted his teeth, trying with all his being not to think of Mordred and everything he had caused, lest he blurted out anything he shouldn’t.
“Then leave,” Mab whispered hoarsely, all hope gone from her gaze, then turned away from him, and unwillingly let out a low whimper. She could only feel pain, which was becoming more and more intense to the point where it would almost choke her. She knew why it was, although if she’d thought about it, she would have found it impossible to explain – feelings had never stopped her from making the right decisions, hard as it might have been, let alone take over to this extent. And yet this time, nothing else seemed to matter anymore – all she wanted was to have him back, which she would, Mab told herself. It could be no other way.
“I will do everything myself…” she said bitterly. Idath hadn't moved from where he stood, but she had no energy left to throw him out of her kingdom, and went to leave the room, after looking at him one last time, her gaze holding pain, desperation and disappointment, which she didn’t bother to hide anymore.
––-
On a happier note, wow, 500 posts! Yay me! *g*
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Post by EvaTheEvilWitchie on Jan 10, 2008 22:02:10 GMT 9.5
and you have 5 stars!
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Post by himiko on Jan 11, 2008 10:26:33 GMT 9.5
Leaving the room, Mab wandered aimlessly down the corridors of her palace, not paying attention to her direction, her head swimming with confusion and doubt and grief. First Merlin's memory loss, then Mordred's capture, Vortigern's bargain and the threat to her son's life, and now Idath was turning against her yet again.
"You hurt me... You slept with them.." She had hurt him, had she? Well, pity for him. Did he not think it had hurt her, too, having to agree to Vortigern's sickening demands, and worse, having to respond, as though she actually wanted to be there? Did he think she had wanted the Romans to come to her country, to tear down her shrines? Did he honestly think she had wanted to lose aspects of herself that might never be recovered? She snarled to herself- how dare he blame her, how dare he accuse her of hurting him because of events she had no control over.
And yet, angry as she was, she couldn't deny that it hurt, that Idath doubted that she had ever been genuine. Hurt- and wasn't that the word of the day, she thought to herself bitterly- everything seemed to hurt, whichever way she turned. Hurt, and anger and bitter humiliation, and even worse, utter helplessness, because try as she might, she could see no way out of this other than Loke's beyond-risky plan.
Tired, she leaned sideways against the wall, and sank down to the floor, staring at her hands. Slipping through her fingers, that was what was happening. Everything, slipping away out of her grasp. Now all that was needed was for Loke to leave, too, and the day would truly have reached the lowest possible point.
"Mab?" Mab's head jerked up, her gaze came to rest once more on Merlin. Normally, she would have pulled herself to her feet in embarassment, now, tired as she was, she saw little point in it.
"Merlin. Why aren't you with Frik?" Merlin blinked anxiously, staring at the Queen of the Old Ways. Earlier, he had respected her silence, sensing that whatever was bothering her, she didn't want to share the reasons. Now however, she looked even worse, and he wondered whether he should say anything else.
"Loke called Frik away, so he said I could have a break," he replied in response to her question. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Why are you upset? Has something happened?" Mab sighed.
"It doesn't matter, Merlin," she muttered.
"Is it because of Mordred? Has Vortigern hurt him?" Mab stared at the wizard. Should she tell him now? Tell him that she was planning to exchange him for Mordred? No, she decided. Not yet. He needed all the chances he could get to strengthen his magic, to learn the spells he needed to defend himself, before she shocked him with that news.
"It's just..." she pondered over how best to phrase this, "Idath, the Lord of Death is here. I thought he might help me. Help to get Mordred back. But he won't, he's made it quite clear that he won't, and he seems to think precious little of me for all his declarations." Snapping her mouth shut before she went on too far, she turned away from Merlin again.
"You should go," she muttered, "Go back to Frik. Tell Loke to stop interrupting your lessons." Merlin seemed to hesitate for a moment, before Mab felt him move away again. She paid little heed to where he was going, which was perhaps why she didn't notice when, instead of turning back towards the library, he followed the path that Mab had come from.
---
Despite the fact that he had no more reason to stay- Mab had told him in no uncertain terms to go, and love spell or no love spell, he couldn't stomach the thought of helping to save the brat who had forcibly taken Mab's affections, couldn't stomach the idea of helping Mab rescue Mordred and watching her fawn over him and gaze at him with that open, trusting, enchanted look- somehow, Idath couldn't bring himself to leave right away.
When the door creaked open uncertainly, a small part of him hoped desperately that it was Mab, that something in her had reconsidered, that he could make her see sense. Thus, it was somewhat surprising when Merlin hesitantly stepped into the room instead, and stared nervously at the Lord of Death.
"Are you Lord Idath?" he asked. Idath raised his eyebrow- it appeared, quite contrary to his earlier assumption, that the wizard's memories were still as fragmented as they had been after his resurrection. He nodded, coldly- he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at Merlin's continued existence, not to mention the fact that he'd never liked the boy in the first place.
"I am. And you're Merlin, I know you." He said quickly, before the wizard could start introducing himself, "What is it you want?" Merlin shuffled uncomfortably. Clearly, Idath's presence was having a similar effect on him that his own presence had on the Lord of Winter.
"Mab was upset. She said you wouldn't help her."
"And she sent you?" Idath asked skeptically. He had trouble believing Mab would want her son anywhere near Idath after the events in Anoeth. Surely enough, Merlin shook his head.
"No, she didn't. I just thought..."
"You thought that you could talk me round for her?" Idath sighed, "I truly am sorry for Mab, Merlin. But I cannot help her to get back that..."
"I don't like Mordred, either," Merlin protested, "But Mab's been unhappy since he disappeared, and I think something's wrong with her because I found her just sitting there, and she didn't get up when she saw me, and she looks upset and she isn't hiding it." There was an almost childish confusion in Merlin's face, and Idath guessed how reliant the wizard must now be on her, how scary it must be to see her like this. And yet, Idath thought to himself, if she wants Mordred back, Merlin will have to die.
"You have no idea, do you?" he said to Merlin, simply. No idea that he would die, no idea that was why Mab was torn apart so much, even in spite of the love spell...
A thought took root in Idath's mind, and he stared calculatingly at the wizard.
"Where's Loke?" he asked. Merlin blinked in confusion and pointed back towards the library. Without waiting for the wizard to say anything more, Idath vanished, and appeared in front of the Lord of Fire, who stared up at him.
"How did your apology go?" he asked, curiously.
"Badly," Idath replied flatly. Loke just about managed to stifle a grin before Idath could glare at him, "I have an idea of how to break this spell." Now, all traces of grin vanished from Loke's face, and he fixed his attention on the Lord of Death.
"Care to explain?"
"Merlin," Idath stated simply. Loke stared at him, puzzled, and he went on, "Think of it like this- that spell specified that it could only be broken by true love, but it never specified that it had to be a romantic love. Mab thinks she is in love with Mordred, and that aside, she has always been reluctant to submit to love. I love her, the gods know it's a hard enough task, but she won't let me close enough to her to try and get through to her. That's why the enchantment is so difficult to break- why let anyone else close when you're "in love" with someone else already? But she still loves Merlin, even with this spell, because he's her son. It's the one love she'll admit to, the reason she doesn't want this trade- her love for Merlin is already battling her need for Mordred. It might be what we need to get through to her." Loke nodded.
"That's all well and good," he replied, "But we only have one day left, Idath. There isn't time for these two feelings to battle it out."
"I know," Idath replied, "Which is why this trade has to go ahead. We both know Vortigern will kill Merlin eventually, and if he tries it whilst Mab is still there, it may be enough."
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jan 12, 2008 2:32:00 GMT 9.5
Once again, Mab was left alone with her thoughts. She knew that her brother’s plan was her best chance and she tried to cling to the hope that it would work out, but what if it didn’t? After all, there were so many things that could go wrong. What if Loke didn’t get there in time, or something happened to make Vortigern realise she was trying to fool him? What would happen then? There was nothing else she could bargain, she realised with a bitter laugh, leaning her head against the wall, remaining on the floor – it couldn’t get lower than that, could it?
She shook her head to get rid of all those thoughts – pitying herself was the one thing she would not do. She had to focus on all the beautiful moments that were ahead, once this trade was over. She closed her eyes and a smile crept on her face, thinking she would have her champion back, and he would manage to get the throne, and bring back the Old Ways and love her, kiss her, touch her… you’re going to moan, and scream with pleasure.
“Ye… Gods! I must be losing my mind,” Mab nearly choked, as images she’d tried to push to the back of her mind had replaced some which she knew were – had to be – considerably more pleasant ones. Her eyes were wide open in horror by now, and she looked around her, letting out an angry snarl as she realised where she was.
“What am I doing here?! Haven’t I had enough of lying on a floor?!” She jumped to her feet at once, sending out a magical blow - which shattered into tiny fragments most of the crystals embedded in the wall opposite to where she was standing - and cursed all the tiredness she’d been feeling and also her subconscious for playing such tricks on her. Mab told herself she just had to make sure this plan worked and get Mordred back – then she would be with the one she knew she wanted, and she would be able to plan her revenge, and everything would be alright again.
––-
Loke listened carefully to Idath’s idea, then gave a short laugh.
“I have no doubt Vortigern will try something at one point, but you really don’t know him, do you, Idath? He wouldn’t be as stupid as to kill him so soon, not whilst he’s still useful to him,” and here the Lord of Fire grinned sheepishly, “I… forgot to mention it, but Mab has promised to help Vortigern in his battle against Cornwall in exchange for keeping Merlin alive.” Idath’s face fell, together with his plan – or what might have developed into a proper plan. Fate had surely made it a favourite pastime to play with the Lord of Death of late, but he had thought he would finally be able put an end to all this madness.
“Loke, I’m beginning to doubt that a mere spell could cloud her judgement to this extent. Seriously, first she sleeps with him, then she promises him help? Has she completely lost it?”
“No, but perhaps we could help at that,” Loke replied grinning. This time, Idath was starting to doubt Loke’s sanity instead of Mab’s, and just stared at the Lord of Fire for a few moments, before speaking again.
“Dare I ask what you mean?”
“Well, getting Vortigern to actually attack Merlin and also prevent him from killing him altogether might be tricky, but we could always create some confusion – for my sister, at least.” It was the Lord of Death’s turn to look puzzled.
“I’m not following.”
“Well, I’m supposed to appear there and take Merlin back before Vortigern can react in any way, yes? If Vortigern sees me there, he’ll figure out that Mab has tried to fool him, and if I don’t respect the plan, he’s either going to kill Merlin and make all our efforts in vain, or just try kill him and be stopped by Mab in good time – still, it doesn’t guarantee the spell will get broken; it’ll just make her hate him all the more.”
“Not that that’s a bad thing,” Idath commented, making the Lord of Fire give a short grin.
“No. But she’d still be head over heels for Mordred, and even I as her brother can’t stomach it, knowing it’s all due to a spell.”
“Right. So what do you suggest we do instead?”
“For one thing, I won’t show up. If I do, she’ll be expecting me, Vortigern will notice that and it would break any understanding they might have. But you can go instead.”
“Go and…”
“Go and act as if this initial plan had never existed. Show up and point out to her that if she leaves Merlin there, he’s sure to get killed.” The Lord of Death stared blankly, not understanding where exactly Loke was trying to get.
“She already knows the risk.”
“Yes, but you’ll make sure that Mordred encourages her to do just that,” Loke shrugged slightly, then continued, “Comment something about him not being more than a toy for her on the long run, that he’s not worth the trouble, or anything of the sort – anything coming from you, her ex-lover, will be sure to heat up our dear warrior and make his temper flare. That way he’ll be the one to ask her to choose and…”
“…And that way he’ll cause the spell to break,” the Lord of Winter finished the sentence, beginning to catch on. But much as he liked the idea, there were still certain things to take into account. “That would indeed be something, Loke,” he said. “But what makes you think he’ll take the risk? And why should Vortigern just sit by and watch? He will know something’s wrong.” Loke considered this for a moment, then shook his head.
“Not necessarily. For one thing, I’m positive Mab will be genuinely surprised – and annoyed – to see you there, and it’ll show – that way, Vortigern won’t suspect anything about a plan, or that she talked with you beforehand, which admittedly she wouldn’t have. Still, that’s a bit of a guarantee that he won’t just kill Merlin, right there and then, without asking any questions first. Then, seeing you there, and seeing that Mab still loves him – or thinks she does – will be enough to make Mordred a tad too confident. And that will be enough for him to dig his own grave.” The Lord of Death nodded, a smirk pulling on one corner of his mouth.
“I like the sound of that. But you have to admit it’ll be a close call. And she’ll hate us both for it.”
“I’m sure she’ll be thanking us, once the spell is broken,” Loke grinned, patting Idath on the shoulder reassuringly.
“If it breaks,” the Lord of Death pointed out, making the other man’s face fall.
“I would hate to be us, if it doesn’t," Loke replied sincerely. "But we have to keep an open mind about this – it just has to work, it’s the only chance we’ve got.” Much as he hated to think of it, the Lord of Death knew Mab’s brother was right, and he could only agree with the validity of the argument.
“Good point.”
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