Post by Mab Rox on Jun 3, 2007 10:24:45 GMT 9.5
OK, so, this is a MabMordred songfic. It's Himiko's b-day present, as in California time it is still her birthday. 
It's rated PG13, mostly for violence.
Queen Mab of Faerie was leaving Titagel castle, but under a guise that none of the residents of said castle had ever seen her in before. Instead of her usual purple-or-black robes, she was all decked out in battle garb. Chain mail, leather, and so on, with a sword and a hand axe at her side.
“Auntie Mab?”
Mab turned from her white horse, which she had been about to mount.
“Yes, Mordred?” she asked her nephew, who she noted was shadowed very closely by his mother.
“Take me with you.”
She walked up to him, and turned her head slightly, eying him; judging his face—his readiness.
“No,” she hissed, in her half-whisper of a voice. “It is…too dangerous.”
“And yet you’re going?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
The air was so thick that you could have cut it with a knife.
“Auntie, Merlin is little trouble for me to kill; why must you go,” he began, but was cut off.
“Merlin?” she asked. “It is not Merlin I fight in this battle, Mordred, but someone much, much more powerful.”
“Who?” asked the man.
“I cannot tell you,” she replied, softly. “Let it only be known that I must go, and that no one must follow me.”
She mounted her horse, and rode off into the west, toward a gathering storm. If all went well, she would be at the center of it by midnight.
Her horse whinnied and pranced beneath her when she was passing a thicket of brush only a few miles away from Titagel.
“Trina, what is it?” she asked.
To the surprise of the man who was hiding in the thicket, the horse replied much in the manner of Merlin’s horse, Sir Rupert, but she had a clear, bell-pure voice that was much more feminine than Sir Rupert’s.
“There is someone in the bushes, my Queen. He is waiting for you.”
Mab gripped the hilt of her long sword, frowning. She had not thought that she would encounter resistance.
“Auntie Mab, you never told me your horse could talk!” exclaimed Mordred, as he leapt out of the brush, looking interestedly at Trina.
Mab let out a curse in the language of the fae. To Mordred, it sounded like a waterfall, or a storm of rain.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Coming with you,” he replied, still eying Trina. “But if I’d have known Trina was going to alert you of my presence, I’d have taken my own horse.”
“You are not coming with me, Mordred,” said Mab, dismounting Trina. She walked over to her protégé. “There are two battles coming up, Mordred. The one that I must win and the one you must win. The Old Ways will prevail, but only if you go!”
Mordred frowned. “You’re lying, Auntie.”
“No, I’m not,” she sighed. “I cannot lie.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re not telling the truth.”
“And that is something else entirely.”
He looked deep into her eyes. “Auntie. Answer me one question.”
“Will you leave after?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded, and he took it as his queue to ask.
“Will you leave the battlefield that you even now ride towards? Will you survive the fight?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Mordred, do not be concerned for me! I am immortal.”
“A yes or no answer, Auntie,” he said firmly, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on her shoulder.
She lifted her hands as though to push him away, but she only balled them into fists and lowered them again.
“No,” she breathed softly. “No, will not live to see the end of this chaos. But you will. And it is up to you to make sure that the Old Ways prove true in the end!”
“Auntie!” he cried. “No! I will not let you go any further! I will not let you ride to your death!”
“Mordred, please think rationally. The existence of the Old Ways is worth my life. It always has been, and it always will be.”
“But what use are the Old Ways without their Queen?” he asked desperately.
She laughed softly. “Did I teach you nothing, my dear? A sacrifice of my magic will ensure that all magic will live on, even if I die.”
“You sacrificed your magic?” he asked, shocked.
A hint of sadness crept into her eyes, glazing them over.
“Yes. It will be worth it in the end.”
“Auntie Mab…”
That seemed to bring her back into the present.
“What are you still doing here? You swore that you would leave upon getting your answer!”
“I…I…” he stuttered.
“Well?”
She was livid.
“I’m not leaving you like this!” he said.
“Yes, you are. Mordred, this fight was never about me. It was about my people. It was about the Old Ways.”
“I don’t care!” shouted Mordred. “Your fight may not be for you, but mine is! Auntie, you’re the only one who ever cared for me, truly…don’t leave me.”
“I…cannot do what you ask,” said Mab, more huskily than normal. “Mordred, I am giving you a life. Go live it. Please.”
“What…are you doing?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
“I am asking you to leave me in peace…please, Mordred. Go. Fight for yourself; for your life. A battlefield awaits you as surely as one awaits me.”
“No—I cannot!”
“My Queen,” said Trina.
Mordred jumped. Mab spun around.
“I am sorry, but we must leave now if we wish to catch her.”
“Yes,” said Mab. “Mordred, go.”
She mounted Trina, and without a glance behind, galloped towards the retreating storm, her long black hair fling in the wind.
And because he loved her, Mordred began the long walk back to Titagel, to prepare for his own battle.
Mab lent down, so that her head was rested against Trina’s neck. Trina snorted softly, and rubbed her neck against Mab’s cheek.
“What are we doing, Trina?” the Queen of Fae asked softly.
“Everything,” the horse replied. “You are saving us, Queen Mab. You are saving your people, you are saving your nephew, and you are saving Britain in its entirety.”
Mab sighed. “Somehow, it doesn’t seem that pure of a sacrifice anymore.”
Trina did not break her swift, mile-eating stride as she replied, “The creatures of Faerie are not looking for glory, or purity. We know you, my Queen, and we have since the dawning of time. We know what you are giving up for us, and we will never be able to repay your sacrifice.”
Mab nodded, and straightened, the heavy mantle of a queen once again resting upon her shoulders. “Trina, you will go assist Mordred as soon as you deliver me to my battle.”
“As you command, Queen.”
Mab didn’t acknowledge her horse’s words, but Trina knew that she was, in her own way, grateful for the compliance.
Mordred stalked into the halls of Titagel castle without a word to his mother or Frik.
“Mordred?” asked Morgan LeFaye, his mother.
“Let him alone,” Frik said. “Mab has told him something.”
Mordred pushed Frik out of his chair as he walked by.
“Mordred!” snapped Morgan. “Come back and apologize.”
Mordred walked straight into his room, ignoring Morgan. He grabbed his armor from where it hung on the wall, as well as the magical axe, Caliban, that Mab had obtained for him.
After a moment’s hesitation, he sunk to his knees on the floor, and opened a secret compartment, taking out the amulet that Mab had given him when he was very young. He slipped it into an indent Caliban’s handle, where it was meant to rest. He examined it carefully. The shimmering purple seven-pointed star did not look as out-of-place as he would have thought.
“It will strengthen you,” she had husked, pushing it into his hand. “It will enhance your inner power.” She had looked at him long and hard then, before her face broke into that soft, almost carefree smile that she reserved only for him. “Yes, my dear Mordred. With your strength and my magic, nothing is beyond us.”
He had been too young then to know desire or what most mortals foolishly called “true love,” but he had not been too young to feel something. And if that something had been the desire to see her smile like that again, then so be it.
It then struck Mordred, as he dawned his armor, and hefted Caliban, how long it had been since Mab had smiled that secret smile.
Mab was beginning to recall a sensation that she had not felt since she had created Merlin. The Queen of Faerie was tired. Her heavily shadowed eyelids were drooping, and Trina’s reins felt far heavier than they really were in her hands.
“My Queen, you should rest,” said Trina.
“No,” said Mab stubbornly. “We must reach her before midnight tonight. Timing is vital.”
“Fighting her does no good if you do not defeat her!” grumbled Trina, her light voice taking on a concerned tone.
“Silence,” snapped Mab, but the harshness in her voice was ruined immediately by a yawn. “Do not even speak such things, or they shall come to pass.”
“You and I both were thinking it,” said Trina.
Trina was possibly the only creature---human or fae—to ever have taken that tone with the Queen of Air and Darkness. However, Mab let it pass. She and Trina had been through too much for the Queen to ever be truly angry at her companion. And now, she needed the support of the horse more than ever. The outcome of both her battle and Mordred’s could easily be influenced by one misstep of the magical being.
It was something for Mab to think about, as she tried not to fall off of Trina. Who ever could have thought that being mortal was so hard?
Mordred ran into the stables, his armor jingling with each step. There was no time to lose. The battle between his soldiers and Arthur’s had certainly already started. He knew that he had to get to the battlefield and slay Arthur as soon as possible.
He walked over to a lovely black horse and stroked her side.
“You don’t talk, do you, Maura?” he asked, mounting her.
He rode her out into the courtyard of Titagel, and then past the gates of the castle.
“Mordred!” he heard his mother scream from behind him.
He paid no heed, but continued on, smiling as Maura started into an easy, mile-eating pace. There were three things in the world that truly gave Mordred happiness: his Auntie Mab, warfare, and riding Maura. In that order. Today, however, the smile on his face was one of grim determination. He was riding Maura towards warfare, yes, but his Auntie Mab’s life hung in the balance, and that took almost all the joy out of the impending battle.
Mab and Trina broke the magical barrier around the edges of the storm, and Trina could almost feel Mab’s anguish, both physical (from lack of sleep and the burst of magical energy that came form breaking the barrier) and mental. Here, in the storm, time seemed to accelerate. As they progressed closed to the eye of the storm, they could see what was left of the sun’s fading light rush across the sky, and then the moon began to rise.
“If it isn’t Queen Mab, Leader of the Old Ways.”
The voice that spoke was clear and low and wonderfully intoxicating. A tall, slim woman strode out to fix Mab with her grey-eyed gaze.
“Adrienne,” said Mab, her husky voice cracking with the effort of keeping the pain out of it. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when the leader of the forces of chaos would make a true stand against the Old Ways.”
Adrienne laughed, a rich sound that echoed beautifully off the rocks that surrounded the two women.
Wind whipped around them, tossing both Mab’s long black hair—now streaked lightly with grey—and Adrienne’s longer, deep brown hair. The moonlight shone on Mab’s milk-like skin, as well as on Adrienne’s dark, almost hazel-colored skin. Mab’s armor clinked in the wind, as Adrienne’s midnight blue robes swirled, revealing weapons or mirrors or symbols carved in silver.
“As your enemy, I must admit, it is wonderful to see you here, facing me, so far beneath me, Queen Mab,” Adrienne murmured, deceptively softly.
“Oh, Adrienne, such underestimation shall be your undoing.”
“Mab,” said Adrienne, “you think yourself so mighty, yet you are nothing without your powers.”
“I may no longer carry my magic, but you could never match me in battles of strategy.” Mab’s eyes took on an almost wolfish glow. “Trina, go to Mordred.”
The horse took off as fast as she could.
Adrienne’s eyes narrowed. “Mab, not even your nephew can save you now…unless you are working on the power of love. But did you not discard that oh-so long ago?”
“The power of love?” Mab demanded. “Love has nothing to do with this fight. All that exists for me now is hatred.”
“But what about Mordred?” demanded Adrienne.
Mab raised an eyebrow. “What about him?” Here the Queen of Air and Darkness laughed hollowly. “I never thought that there would be a day in which you would try to cut me down with emotional wounds as opposed to your sword.”
Adrienne’s eyes blazed with fire. She leapt at Mab.
It's rated PG13, mostly for violence.An Angel face smiles at me
Under a headline of tragedy
That smile used to give me warmth
Under a headline of tragedy
That smile used to give me warmth
Queen Mab of Faerie was leaving Titagel castle, but under a guise that none of the residents of said castle had ever seen her in before. Instead of her usual purple-or-black robes, she was all decked out in battle garb. Chain mail, leather, and so on, with a sword and a hand axe at her side.
“Auntie Mab?”
Mab turned from her white horse, which she had been about to mount.
“Yes, Mordred?” she asked her nephew, who she noted was shadowed very closely by his mother.
“Take me with you.”
She walked up to him, and turned her head slightly, eying him; judging his face—his readiness.
“No,” she hissed, in her half-whisper of a voice. “It is…too dangerous.”
“And yet you’re going?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
The air was so thick that you could have cut it with a knife.
“Auntie, Merlin is little trouble for me to kill; why must you go,” he began, but was cut off.
“Merlin?” she asked. “It is not Merlin I fight in this battle, Mordred, but someone much, much more powerful.”
No words to say
Beside the cross on your grave
And those forever burning candles
Beside the cross on your grave
And those forever burning candles
“Who?” asked the man.
“I cannot tell you,” she replied, softly. “Let it only be known that I must go, and that no one must follow me.”
She mounted her horse, and rode off into the west, toward a gathering storm. If all went well, she would be at the center of it by midnight.
Her horse whinnied and pranced beneath her when she was passing a thicket of brush only a few miles away from Titagel.
“Trina, what is it?” she asked.
To the surprise of the man who was hiding in the thicket, the horse replied much in the manner of Merlin’s horse, Sir Rupert, but she had a clear, bell-pure voice that was much more feminine than Sir Rupert’s.
“There is someone in the bushes, my Queen. He is waiting for you.”
Mab gripped the hilt of her long sword, frowning. She had not thought that she would encounter resistance.
“Auntie Mab, you never told me your horse could talk!” exclaimed Mordred, as he leapt out of the brush, looking interestedly at Trina.
Needed elsewhere
To remind us of the
Shortness of our time
To remind us of the
Shortness of our time
Mab let out a curse in the language of the fae. To Mordred, it sounded like a waterfall, or a storm of rain.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Coming with you,” he replied, still eying Trina. “But if I’d have known Trina was going to alert you of my presence, I’d have taken my own horse.”
“You are not coming with me, Mordred,” said Mab, dismounting Trina. She walked over to her protégé. “There are two battles coming up, Mordred. The one that I must win and the one you must win. The Old Ways will prevail, but only if you go!”
Mordred frowned. “You’re lying, Auntie.”
“No, I’m not,” she sighed. “I cannot lie.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re not telling the truth.”
“And that is something else entirely.”
He looked deep into her eyes. “Auntie. Answer me one question.”
“Will you leave after?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded, and he took it as his queue to ask.
“Will you leave the battlefield that you even now ride towards? Will you survive the fight?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Mordred, do not be concerned for me! I am immortal.”
“A yes or no answer, Auntie,” he said firmly, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on her shoulder.
She lifted her hands as though to push him away, but she only balled them into fists and lowered them again.
“No,” she breathed softly. “No, will not live to see the end of this chaos. But you will. And it is up to you to make sure that the Old Ways prove true in the end!”
“Auntie!” he cried. “No! I will not let you go any further! I will not let you ride to your death!”
“Mordred, please think rationally. The existence of the Old Ways is worth my life. It always has been, and it always will be.”
“But what use are the Old Ways without their Queen?” he asked desperately.
She laughed softly. “Did I teach you nothing, my dear? A sacrifice of my magic will ensure that all magic will live on, even if I die.”
Tears laid for them
Tears of love,
Tears of fear
Tears of love,
Tears of fear
“You sacrificed your magic?” he asked, shocked.
A hint of sadness crept into her eyes, glazing them over.
“Yes. It will be worth it in the end.”
“Auntie Mab…”
That seemed to bring her back into the present.
“What are you still doing here? You swore that you would leave upon getting your answer!”
“I…I…” he stuttered.
“Well?”
She was livid.
“I’m not leaving you like this!” he said.
“Yes, you are. Mordred, this fight was never about me. It was about my people. It was about the Old Ways.”
“I don’t care!” shouted Mordred. “Your fight may not be for you, but mine is! Auntie, you’re the only one who ever cared for me, truly…don’t leave me.”
“I…cannot do what you ask,” said Mab, more huskily than normal. “Mordred, I am giving you a life. Go live it. Please.”
“What…are you doing?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
“I am asking you to leave me in peace…please, Mordred. Go. Fight for yourself; for your life. A battlefield awaits you as surely as one awaits me.”
“No—I cannot!”
“My Queen,” said Trina.
Mordred jumped. Mab spun around.
“I am sorry, but we must leave now if we wish to catch her.”
“Yes,” said Mab. “Mordred, go.”
She mounted Trina, and without a glance behind, galloped towards the retreating storm, her long black hair fling in the wind.
And because he loved her, Mordred began the long walk back to Titagel, to prepare for his own battle.
Bury my dreams
Dig up my sorrows
Oh Lord why
The Angels fall first
Dig up my sorrows
Oh Lord why
The Angels fall first
Mab lent down, so that her head was rested against Trina’s neck. Trina snorted softly, and rubbed her neck against Mab’s cheek.
“What are we doing, Trina?” the Queen of Fae asked softly.
“Everything,” the horse replied. “You are saving us, Queen Mab. You are saving your people, you are saving your nephew, and you are saving Britain in its entirety.”
Mab sighed. “Somehow, it doesn’t seem that pure of a sacrifice anymore.”
Trina did not break her swift, mile-eating stride as she replied, “The creatures of Faerie are not looking for glory, or purity. We know you, my Queen, and we have since the dawning of time. We know what you are giving up for us, and we will never be able to repay your sacrifice.”
Mab nodded, and straightened, the heavy mantle of a queen once again resting upon her shoulders. “Trina, you will go assist Mordred as soon as you deliver me to my battle.”
“As you command, Queen.”
Mab didn’t acknowledge her horse’s words, but Trina knew that she was, in her own way, grateful for the compliance.
Not relieved by
Thoughts of Shangri-La
Nor enlightened by the lessons of Christ
Thoughts of Shangri-La
Nor enlightened by the lessons of Christ
Mordred stalked into the halls of Titagel castle without a word to his mother or Frik.
“Mordred?” asked Morgan LeFaye, his mother.
“Let him alone,” Frik said. “Mab has told him something.”
Mordred pushed Frik out of his chair as he walked by.
“Mordred!” snapped Morgan. “Come back and apologize.”
Mordred walked straight into his room, ignoring Morgan. He grabbed his armor from where it hung on the wall, as well as the magical axe, Caliban, that Mab had obtained for him.
After a moment’s hesitation, he sunk to his knees on the floor, and opened a secret compartment, taking out the amulet that Mab had given him when he was very young. He slipped it into an indent Caliban’s handle, where it was meant to rest. He examined it carefully. The shimmering purple seven-pointed star did not look as out-of-place as he would have thought.
“It will strengthen you,” she had husked, pushing it into his hand. “It will enhance your inner power.” She had looked at him long and hard then, before her face broke into that soft, almost carefree smile that she reserved only for him. “Yes, my dear Mordred. With your strength and my magic, nothing is beyond us.”
He had been too young then to know desire or what most mortals foolishly called “true love,” but he had not been too young to feel something. And if that something had been the desire to see her smile like that again, then so be it.
It then struck Mordred, as he dawned his armor, and hefted Caliban, how long it had been since Mab had smiled that secret smile.
I’ll never understand the
Meaning of the right
Ignorance lead me into the light
Meaning of the right
Ignorance lead me into the light
Mab was beginning to recall a sensation that she had not felt since she had created Merlin. The Queen of Faerie was tired. Her heavily shadowed eyelids were drooping, and Trina’s reins felt far heavier than they really were in her hands.
“My Queen, you should rest,” said Trina.
“No,” said Mab stubbornly. “We must reach her before midnight tonight. Timing is vital.”
“Fighting her does no good if you do not defeat her!” grumbled Trina, her light voice taking on a concerned tone.
“Silence,” snapped Mab, but the harshness in her voice was ruined immediately by a yawn. “Do not even speak such things, or they shall come to pass.”
“You and I both were thinking it,” said Trina.
Trina was possibly the only creature---human or fae—to ever have taken that tone with the Queen of Air and Darkness. However, Mab let it pass. She and Trina had been through too much for the Queen to ever be truly angry at her companion. And now, she needed the support of the horse more than ever. The outcome of both her battle and Mordred’s could easily be influenced by one misstep of the magical being.
It was something for Mab to think about, as she tried not to fall off of Trina. Who ever could have thought that being mortal was so hard?
Needed elsewhere
To remind us of the
Shortness of our time
To remind us of the
Shortness of our time
Mordred ran into the stables, his armor jingling with each step. There was no time to lose. The battle between his soldiers and Arthur’s had certainly already started. He knew that he had to get to the battlefield and slay Arthur as soon as possible.
He walked over to a lovely black horse and stroked her side.
“You don’t talk, do you, Maura?” he asked, mounting her.
He rode her out into the courtyard of Titagel, and then past the gates of the castle.
“Mordred!” he heard his mother scream from behind him.
He paid no heed, but continued on, smiling as Maura started into an easy, mile-eating pace. There were three things in the world that truly gave Mordred happiness: his Auntie Mab, warfare, and riding Maura. In that order. Today, however, the smile on his face was one of grim determination. He was riding Maura towards warfare, yes, but his Auntie Mab’s life hung in the balance, and that took almost all the joy out of the impending battle.
Tears laid for them
Tears of love,
Tears of fear
Tears of love,
Tears of fear
Mab and Trina broke the magical barrier around the edges of the storm, and Trina could almost feel Mab’s anguish, both physical (from lack of sleep and the burst of magical energy that came form breaking the barrier) and mental. Here, in the storm, time seemed to accelerate. As they progressed closed to the eye of the storm, they could see what was left of the sun’s fading light rush across the sky, and then the moon began to rise.
“If it isn’t Queen Mab, Leader of the Old Ways.”
The voice that spoke was clear and low and wonderfully intoxicating. A tall, slim woman strode out to fix Mab with her grey-eyed gaze.
“Adrienne,” said Mab, her husky voice cracking with the effort of keeping the pain out of it. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when the leader of the forces of chaos would make a true stand against the Old Ways.”
Adrienne laughed, a rich sound that echoed beautifully off the rocks that surrounded the two women.
Wind whipped around them, tossing both Mab’s long black hair—now streaked lightly with grey—and Adrienne’s longer, deep brown hair. The moonlight shone on Mab’s milk-like skin, as well as on Adrienne’s dark, almost hazel-colored skin. Mab’s armor clinked in the wind, as Adrienne’s midnight blue robes swirled, revealing weapons or mirrors or symbols carved in silver.
“As your enemy, I must admit, it is wonderful to see you here, facing me, so far beneath me, Queen Mab,” Adrienne murmured, deceptively softly.
“Oh, Adrienne, such underestimation shall be your undoing.”
“Mab,” said Adrienne, “you think yourself so mighty, yet you are nothing without your powers.”
“I may no longer carry my magic, but you could never match me in battles of strategy.” Mab’s eyes took on an almost wolfish glow. “Trina, go to Mordred.”
The horse took off as fast as she could.
Adrienne’s eyes narrowed. “Mab, not even your nephew can save you now…unless you are working on the power of love. But did you not discard that oh-so long ago?”
“The power of love?” Mab demanded. “Love has nothing to do with this fight. All that exists for me now is hatred.”
“But what about Mordred?” demanded Adrienne.
Mab raised an eyebrow. “What about him?” Here the Queen of Air and Darkness laughed hollowly. “I never thought that there would be a day in which you would try to cut me down with emotional wounds as opposed to your sword.”
Adrienne’s eyes blazed with fire. She leapt at Mab.
Bury my dreams
Dig up my sorrows
Oh Lord why
The Angels fall first[/center]
Mordred swung Caliban at one of Arthur’s soldiers. The man’s life ended abruptly, and so did the life of every other soldier who dared to attack the angry and troubled young man.
By the time he faced Sir Gawain of the Round Table, Mordred was ready to simply lop off the knight’s head and stab it onto a pike, but he knew that that was not what his Auntie would want him to do. Instead, he engaged the knight in some light banter, and then spun around and killed Gawain’s father.
It was simple for each of Mordred’s small battlefield schemes to go unnoticed by the enemy. Each of them greatly contributed to Mordred’s winning and Arthur’s losing of the battle, though.
When Mordred finally came fact-to-face with is father, he was more than ready to kill the man. Caliban was screaming fro him to do so, and the faerie star that adorned its hilt was pulsing with raw power that was begging to be harnessed.
“Father,” said Mordred, stepping forward. “I have little time for pleasantries. Make this easy on yourself and surrender, so I can get on with things of importance.”
“No,” said Arthur. “It is you who should be surrendering to me.”
Mordred charged.
An extremely vicious fight ensued, with both sides taking blows. Arthur scored fist blood; a gash on Mordred’s arm. Mordred cut Arthur on his stomach, Caliban slicing straight through both armor and flesh.
“Arthur!” came the call in a voice that Mordred easily recognized. It was time to settle old scores with his Auntie’s betrayer.
Mab dove to the side, cursing and pulling out her sword. Etched runes for strength, sharpness, accuracy and swiftness blazed along its length, along with the glowing words, “May the Darkness follow the Light always.” The sword was Rowena, the Blade of Shadow. It was forged by the most talented smith that had ever lived, and it had been presented to Mab as a gift for saving his children from the Great Dragon.
Adrienne didn’t wait for Mab to recover, but pulled out a dagger, and attacked the other woman. Luckily for Mab, the runes still held their magic, enabling her to leap up and pull Rowena into a defensive position far faster than any human could have.
Adrienne’s dagger struck sparks, and she frowned. “You are stronger than I had thought, Mab.”
“Why thank you,” said Mab with a slight smile playing at her lips.
They eyed each other for a moment, before Mab decided to take the offensive. She sprinted forward and sliced Rowena along Adrienne’s arm. Unfortunately, Adrienne was about as human as Mab, so she moved fast enough to dodge most of the attack, but the very edge of the magical sword’s blade cut her arm.
“First blood,” commented the Queen of the Old Ways.
Adrienne struck out, and her dagger’s blade grew longer. This time, Mab did not have time to duck, block, or otherwise thwart the attack. Luckily, her very well-made armor bounced most of the force of the attack back into Adrienne, but the weapon did make a slight gash in Mab’s shoulder.
There was so much pain already attacking Mab that an extra bit didn’t matter much—she had learned long ago how to push it out of her mind.
The battle continued on, only for a few minutes, but in the odd time that seemed to hold within the magical storm, the minutes passed like hours. Mab knew that she had to defeat Adrienne soon.
Then, she made the stupidest mistake that she possibly ever had in her entire existence.
“Merlin,” said Mordred, turning away from his father. “What are you doing here?”
“Fighting you,” the wizard replied.
Mordred shook his head, and took advantage of the distraction that Merlin had so kindly provided for him.
Arthur literally never knew what happened—one moment he was about to win that battle; after all, his wizard had come, and the next he was lying dead on the forest floor, Caliban’s negative energy shattering Excalibur.
“Mordred!”
Mordred spun around to face the voice.
“Trina?” he asked.
The horse ran up, her whole body trembling. “You have slain Arthur,” she commented seeing the dead king’s body.
“Yes,” replied Mordred.
“Then your work here is done. Come with me now. Queen Mab is not fairing well in her fight with Adrienne.”
Mordred whistled, and Maura galloped over. He pulled himself onto the black horse’s saddle.
Suddenly a bolt of lightning rushed past his forehead. He turned, frowning, and grasped Caliban’s handle. After a momentary pause, he snapped the faerie star off of the axe, and the hurled it as fast and as strongly as he could. It hit Merlin in the stomach, and Mordred took off on Maura without a look back, Trina leading the way.
“Who is Adrienne?” asked Mordred.
“Queen Mab’s nemesis. She is the daughter of chaos, and its leader. She has been trying to destroy the Queen since the beginning of time. She can shape-shift, which has played a pivotal role in Britain’s fate. More than once, she has turned into the Lady Lake in order to give Merlin advice against Mab.”
Mordred was silent until they reached the storm, and by extension Mab and Adrienne.
Mab fell. She moved too quickly after too little sleep, and it overloaded her body, and she fell. Hard.
Adrienne looked over her crumpled body, and didn’t wait to gloat. She reached down and ripped Mab’s armor open at the neck and kept ripping down to her waist, and she stabbed the Queen of Air and Darkness in her newly-exposed heart, drawing the blade out of Mab slowly.
Mab’s body convulsed with the pure agony that ran through her body. She had experienced pain before—lots of it—but this was by far the worst torture that could ever have been imagined. The coldness of the blade that Adrienne had used ran through her veins, and she could barley hold onto one thought: Must…kill her…also… Mab reached up with Rowena, and stabbed Adrienne through her delicate, long throat.
The ruler of chaos fell down at Mab’s feet, gasping for air, dying rapidly. Mab herself was only alive because though she may have given up her magic, she was till inhuman.
It was over; the deed was done, and she would not live to tell the tale. If Trina did not get back soon, there would not be a tale to tell at all.
Mordred and Trina had watched from the shadows as Mab fell, and was stabbed. Mordred swung off of Maura, and began running at that point. Trina had waited until Mab had effectively eliminated Adrienne before following.
“Auntie Mab!” shouted Mordred, dropping to his knees beside his Aunt.
Mordred saw Mab’s eyes flit around, unable to focus.
“I…am here. Though not…for much longer,” she gasped, identifying his position by the sound of his voice.
“Auntie…” he whispered, taking in the sight of her, so bloodied and broken, pain and shock making her tremble. She was so different from the Queen Mab of his childhood, or even from the Queen Mab that he had parted ways from earlier that day.
“Mordred…come here,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I…I am so cold…”
Mordred picked his aunt up in his arms, cradling her, wincing as he heard her gasp in pain.
Wet things that Mordred could not identify fell from his eyes. One of the crystalline droplets fell onto Mab’s cheek.
“Tears,” she forced out, through bloodied lips. “I…used to shed them…as well.”
More of these strange things called tears fell.
“Do not…cry them…for me.”
Silently, Mordred searched for a way to show Mab how much he cared for her. How much he cared in ways that were not as a nephew cared for his aunt. Finally, he took out the purple faerie star.
“Do you remember when you gave this to me?” he asked. “It was a promise of our combined glory.”
“I…remember.”
Mordred opened Mab’s hand, and pressed the star into it. “It has served me well, and I would have it that it would serve you as well as it did me…”
Mab smiled brokenly, and closed her fingers around the star. “Thank…you.”
As the moon stopped moving at an accelerated speed, hanging just above their heads, with the stars no longer a ghostly swirl of motion, Mab’s blue eyes closed, and her fingers went limp. The star fell out of them, into the crook of Mordred’s elbow. The message was clear. Mab wanted Mordred to have the star to save him from harm. It was the last sacrifice the Queen of Air and Darkness would ever make for any of her own.
Dig up my sorrows
Oh Lord why
The Angels fall first[/center]
Mordred swung Caliban at one of Arthur’s soldiers. The man’s life ended abruptly, and so did the life of every other soldier who dared to attack the angry and troubled young man.
By the time he faced Sir Gawain of the Round Table, Mordred was ready to simply lop off the knight’s head and stab it onto a pike, but he knew that that was not what his Auntie would want him to do. Instead, he engaged the knight in some light banter, and then spun around and killed Gawain’s father.
It was simple for each of Mordred’s small battlefield schemes to go unnoticed by the enemy. Each of them greatly contributed to Mordred’s winning and Arthur’s losing of the battle, though.
When Mordred finally came fact-to-face with is father, he was more than ready to kill the man. Caliban was screaming fro him to do so, and the faerie star that adorned its hilt was pulsing with raw power that was begging to be harnessed.
“Father,” said Mordred, stepping forward. “I have little time for pleasantries. Make this easy on yourself and surrender, so I can get on with things of importance.”
“No,” said Arthur. “It is you who should be surrendering to me.”
Mordred charged.
An extremely vicious fight ensued, with both sides taking blows. Arthur scored fist blood; a gash on Mordred’s arm. Mordred cut Arthur on his stomach, Caliban slicing straight through both armor and flesh.
“Arthur!” came the call in a voice that Mordred easily recognized. It was time to settle old scores with his Auntie’s betrayer.
Sing me a song
Of your beauty
Of your kingdom
Of your beauty
Of your kingdom
Mab dove to the side, cursing and pulling out her sword. Etched runes for strength, sharpness, accuracy and swiftness blazed along its length, along with the glowing words, “May the Darkness follow the Light always.” The sword was Rowena, the Blade of Shadow. It was forged by the most talented smith that had ever lived, and it had been presented to Mab as a gift for saving his children from the Great Dragon.
Adrienne didn’t wait for Mab to recover, but pulled out a dagger, and attacked the other woman. Luckily for Mab, the runes still held their magic, enabling her to leap up and pull Rowena into a defensive position far faster than any human could have.
Adrienne’s dagger struck sparks, and she frowned. “You are stronger than I had thought, Mab.”
“Why thank you,” said Mab with a slight smile playing at her lips.
They eyed each other for a moment, before Mab decided to take the offensive. She sprinted forward and sliced Rowena along Adrienne’s arm. Unfortunately, Adrienne was about as human as Mab, so she moved fast enough to dodge most of the attack, but the very edge of the magical sword’s blade cut her arm.
“First blood,” commented the Queen of the Old Ways.
Adrienne struck out, and her dagger’s blade grew longer. This time, Mab did not have time to duck, block, or otherwise thwart the attack. Luckily, her very well-made armor bounced most of the force of the attack back into Adrienne, but the weapon did make a slight gash in Mab’s shoulder.
There was so much pain already attacking Mab that an extra bit didn’t matter much—she had learned long ago how to push it out of her mind.
The battle continued on, only for a few minutes, but in the odd time that seemed to hold within the magical storm, the minutes passed like hours. Mab knew that she had to defeat Adrienne soon.
Then, she made the stupidest mistake that she possibly ever had in her entire existence.
Let the melodies
Of your harps
Caress those whom we still need
Of your harps
Caress those whom we still need
“Merlin,” said Mordred, turning away from his father. “What are you doing here?”
“Fighting you,” the wizard replied.
Mordred shook his head, and took advantage of the distraction that Merlin had so kindly provided for him.
Arthur literally never knew what happened—one moment he was about to win that battle; after all, his wizard had come, and the next he was lying dead on the forest floor, Caliban’s negative energy shattering Excalibur.
“Mordred!”
Mordred spun around to face the voice.
“Trina?” he asked.
The horse ran up, her whole body trembling. “You have slain Arthur,” she commented seeing the dead king’s body.
“Yes,” replied Mordred.
“Then your work here is done. Come with me now. Queen Mab is not fairing well in her fight with Adrienne.”
Mordred whistled, and Maura galloped over. He pulled himself onto the black horse’s saddle.
Suddenly a bolt of lightning rushed past his forehead. He turned, frowning, and grasped Caliban’s handle. After a momentary pause, he snapped the faerie star off of the axe, and the hurled it as fast and as strongly as he could. It hit Merlin in the stomach, and Mordred took off on Maura without a look back, Trina leading the way.
“Who is Adrienne?” asked Mordred.
“Queen Mab’s nemesis. She is the daughter of chaos, and its leader. She has been trying to destroy the Queen since the beginning of time. She can shape-shift, which has played a pivotal role in Britain’s fate. More than once, she has turned into the Lady Lake in order to give Merlin advice against Mab.”
Mordred was silent until they reached the storm, and by extension Mab and Adrienne.
Yesterday
We shook hands
My friend
We shook hands
My friend
Mab fell. She moved too quickly after too little sleep, and it overloaded her body, and she fell. Hard.
Adrienne looked over her crumpled body, and didn’t wait to gloat. She reached down and ripped Mab’s armor open at the neck and kept ripping down to her waist, and she stabbed the Queen of Air and Darkness in her newly-exposed heart, drawing the blade out of Mab slowly.
Mab’s body convulsed with the pure agony that ran through her body. She had experienced pain before—lots of it—but this was by far the worst torture that could ever have been imagined. The coldness of the blade that Adrienne had used ran through her veins, and she could barley hold onto one thought: Must…kill her…also… Mab reached up with Rowena, and stabbed Adrienne through her delicate, long throat.
The ruler of chaos fell down at Mab’s feet, gasping for air, dying rapidly. Mab herself was only alive because though she may have given up her magic, she was till inhuman.
It was over; the deed was done, and she would not live to tell the tale. If Trina did not get back soon, there would not be a tale to tell at all.
Today a moonbeam
Lightens my path
My guardian
Lightens my path
My guardian
Mordred and Trina had watched from the shadows as Mab fell, and was stabbed. Mordred swung off of Maura, and began running at that point. Trina had waited until Mab had effectively eliminated Adrienne before following.
“Auntie Mab!” shouted Mordred, dropping to his knees beside his Aunt.
Mordred saw Mab’s eyes flit around, unable to focus.
“I…am here. Though not…for much longer,” she gasped, identifying his position by the sound of his voice.
“Auntie…” he whispered, taking in the sight of her, so bloodied and broken, pain and shock making her tremble. She was so different from the Queen Mab of his childhood, or even from the Queen Mab that he had parted ways from earlier that day.
“Mordred…come here,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I…I am so cold…”
Mordred picked his aunt up in his arms, cradling her, wincing as he heard her gasp in pain.
Wet things that Mordred could not identify fell from his eyes. One of the crystalline droplets fell onto Mab’s cheek.
“Tears,” she forced out, through bloodied lips. “I…used to shed them…as well.”
More of these strange things called tears fell.
“Do not…cry them…for me.”
Silently, Mordred searched for a way to show Mab how much he cared for her. How much he cared in ways that were not as a nephew cared for his aunt. Finally, he took out the purple faerie star.
“Do you remember when you gave this to me?” he asked. “It was a promise of our combined glory.”
“I…remember.”
Mordred opened Mab’s hand, and pressed the star into it. “It has served me well, and I would have it that it would serve you as well as it did me…”
Mab smiled brokenly, and closed her fingers around the star. “Thank…you.”
As the moon stopped moving at an accelerated speed, hanging just above their heads, with the stars no longer a ghostly swirl of motion, Mab’s blue eyes closed, and her fingers went limp. The star fell out of them, into the crook of Mordred’s elbow. The message was clear. Mab wanted Mordred to have the star to save him from harm. It was the last sacrifice the Queen of Air and Darkness would ever make for any of her own.
