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Post by himiko on Jun 16, 2008 12:32:27 GMT 9.5
Mab didn't acknowledge her son's words, turning her gaze back to Merlin instead, as she felt a small measure of strength seep back into her- the return, she realised, of Merlin's memories of her. It was small, almost insignificant, but it was something, a recovery. And it sent possibilities whirring through her head. The cauldron took the memories of the dead, that much was obvious. But it had just returned Merlin's... Maybe, given the chance, it could do the same for others.
Mab frowned. That would mean bringing living humans to Anoeth, something that hadn't been done for years now... But surely some would be worthy to make the journey, those that had been especially close to the Old Ways, whose loyalty could be easily awakened. It wouldn't be enough to restore all the power she had lost, but it would be enough to bring her back from the brink of extinction, enough to give her time to recover the rest. Surely this could yet turn out to be a good thing.
Idath watched Mab's expression change from helpless to something rather hopeful. His own thoughts were following a similar track to her's, in the meantime. This was an unprecedented event in all the years he'd been the master of the Cauldron... but then, he thought, smiling grimly to himself, he'd never before had to contend with the persistant stubbornness of the Queen of the Old Ways when dealing with said cauldron.
"We led each other a merry dance because of this cauldron, Mab," Idath thought ruefully to himself, "But that may well turn out to have a purpose in this yet..."
Behind them, their son's eyes narrowed. Noticing this, Loke stopped his admiring stare at the cauldron and turned to face his nephew.
"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he spoke cheerfully. Distracted, the spirit turned towards Loke, glaring fiercely at the irritation. Loke met his gaze, his own increasing in it's burning intensity, "Some call me Loke. You can call me the Lord of Fire. Now, usually, I approve of chaos, and it's perfectly that you don't exactly object to it, but even I have to ask- what do you hope to accomplish here? Merlin has his memories back. This won't kill him. You're just striking out, trying to take down anything you can with you- because there's something in you that suspects you CAN be gotten rid of, and you know that this is precisely where it could happen."
The spirit's glare deepened, but even so, Loke saw those eyes flicker towards the cauldron, saw a tiny hint of doubt, and smiled to himself.
Merlin stared at his brother, climbed unsteadily up from the floor.
"Why do you hate me so much?" he demanded, walking forwards. Mab held out a hand as if to stop him, and he paused for a moment. His brother sneered.
"I'd have thought that was obvious, brother, even to a fool like you." His eyes darkened, "You killed me. It should have been you who died in that forest. It was you the shades were killing. If mother dearest had left well enough alone, that's what would have happened..."
"And you and I both would have been left to the shade's mercy," Mab snapped, "You really think you would have survived that?"
"We'll never get the chance to find out now, will we?"
"You think that was what I wanted?" Merlin demanded, "I came to save you and Mab. Gods, I wanted you to have lived. That was the whole point! I never wanted you dead. It was an accident. I wish I could have changed places with you, if this is what you became because of it, but my death will not make you live again!" The spirit seemed to hesitate in his glare, and Merlin took another step closer, "Please, just stop this..."
Mab watched hesitantly, unsure of whether to pull Merlin back. But it seemed almost as though his words were getting through to the spirit... Then she saw a change in his eyes. Just for a moment, they were sneering, hatefilled, and Mab saw the trick for what it was.
"Merlin, move!" she snarled, grabbing him and pulling him out of the way. Too late, however, to prevent the spirit's immediate actions- having found, like Mordred, that his body in Anoeth had become solid enough, and his magic, although weakened, along with it, he had gathered together a blast of magic, flinging it forward as Merlin was pulled away. Had it hit the wizard, it might well have killed him, for it was designed to hurt, to carve flesh, to take blood. As it was, it struck Mab instead, hitting her side, and sending her staggering. The spirit hesitated a moment, staring uncertainly at the scene before him.
The next moment, he realised that had been a mistake, as, with a roar of rage, Idath had seized his son, and physically flung his form towards the cauldron, holding him in place as he struggled and snarled and tried to pull back. Mist began to surround him, as it had with Merlin, but somehow differently...
Mab, meanwhile, lay on the floor, the cuts patterning her arm and shoulder healing slowly, but the edges of her already failing form flickering erratically. Merlin knelt beside her, and Loke joined them.
"What's happening?" Merlin demanded, "Why is she fading faster?"
"The healing magic," Loke paled in understanding, "It's healing her, but it's weakening her powers too much as it does. She doesn't have enough strength to withstand this..."
Merlin stared down at her. No, this was impossible. He had only just regained his memories of her, how he had left her, how he had wanted to make it up to her, and now she was dying because of being healed? And yet... his memories were still fresh, memories from months and years back that had faded in his own mind even before the incident with his death now stood out in his mind. Perhaps it was unsurprising that memories surrounding his brother's death should be quite so prominent in his mind, and as such, he remembered why he had been the one to go to save Mab, why they had initially thought it had to be him that saved her- because her powers would be drained, and someone of her blood needed to give her a spark of their own power.
It wasn't an ideal situation- Merlin had no real idea what to do- but hadn't Mab said that touching her would be sufficient. Resting his fingers on the sides of her head, and closing his eyes, he muttered to her.
"Then take mine..."
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jun 20, 2008 16:14:26 GMT 9.5
Although not fully realising the consequences of her actions, Mab knew she wouldn’t let anything happen to her son, especially now that he also had his memories back. Unlike any other time, however, she noticed she could not stand again right away. She realised she did not have enough strength to recover from the blow this time, but as much as she tried to fight it, the last remaining shreds of her magic she was trying to preserve were already dissipating on doing just that. And then she only heard Merlin’s voice, whispering something to her. She feared that him trying to heal her wound might not be enough this time, that there really wasn’t any power left to her to sustain her anymore, but could not say it aloud, as his hands rested on her temples. But this was not a simple healing spell, as Mab soon realised.
She felt an old kind of magic flow through her veins again, one which was barely familiar anymore, and yet so wonderful it almost physically hurt. It was the best of her very essence, that which she had willingly given up upon creating Merlin. It had happened such a long time before, but it was still perfectly clear in her memory – how she had conjured up an image, an illusion which she had put her whole soul into creating, upon which she had bestowed not only life, but part of her own magic. Mab had not once imagined she would ever have that back, but it had been a sacrifice she’d gladly made for her people, letting go of it just so that her son would come into the world and save the Old Ways. And now, part of that magic was coursing through her again, making her whole, healing wounds that could not even be seen, strengthening her.
Blinking a few times to focus her vision, Mab pulled back sharply, breaking the connection, not sure what effects it might have on the wizard, and not wanting to wait any longer to find out. “Merlin, you shouldn’t have done this…” He was visibly paler, and feeling a strange unexplicable pain and a dizziness wash over him all of a sudden. But if anything, it had only weakened him, not killed him.
“I’ve already been through worse,” he replied, knowing he might very well have been dead already, had Mab not intervened. In truth, he hadn’t expected she would take the risk she did, although he probably should have known better by now.
The Lord of Fire, still crouched at her side, noticed with relief her less shimmering form, and was genuinely glad for the first time that Merlin was half-human, thus having more resources than any of them in this case. His initial joy dimished somewhat, a moment later. “Mab?”
“You still look as bad, Loki,” she whispered, the euphoria that was invading her body causing half a smile to play on her face, but her brother didn’t seem to hear her reply, and nodded to where the Lord of Death was. Mab’s gaze followed his own, her eyes falling on the spirit still struggling to escape Idath’s grip. He was fully surrounded by mist now, but it did not seem to have the effect it would have on the spirit of a mortal. Despite the short respite that she’d been given, nothing had really changed. She felt her heart sink, as she frantically tried to find the way to solve this, and took a deep breath before getting up, painfully aware that this recovery of her powers was but temporary.
Advancing slowly towards the cauldron, Mab stared at the spirit that her son had become, who ceased his desperate attempts to get away from the cauldron for a few moments, as his still hateful gaze rested on her again, making her recoil. She wasn’t sure whether that was because of the effect the caldron mist was having on him, or whether he was just preparing to strike again. After all, he had helped Mordred cast that spell on her, he knew about everything that had been going on, and Mab now knew he had also been the mysterious creature to have helped Vortigern. It could not have been more ironic, now that she thought about it, and it made her blood boil in her veins, knowing that someone of her own kind would ever willingly cause all this. When she spoke, however, her voice was cold, calm – unsettling so.
“You say you wanted Merlin to pay for what was an accident, and yet this is everything you’ve accomplished – affecting the Old Ways, nearly destroying me. It’s the exact opposite of what you were meant to do, you can’t have wanted all this to happen, that part of me that’s in you can’t have wanted revenge over the very existence of the Old Ways!” She took a few more steps, despite the warnings in Idath’s gaze.
“No, it’s not what I wanted, I tried to fight it… But then… What does it matter now?” The confused reply took her somewhat by surprise, but if anything, also proved her right in her assumption that the mist was affecting him. She threw Idath a questioning look, wondering why exactly he hadn’t managed to let his spirit get absorbed into the cauldron, but if anything, confusion was better than sheer rage, and this time it seemed quite genuine, so she decided to draw his attention on exactly the things that he doubted.
“It does matter, otherwise you wouldn’t be thinking about it. Tell me, what did you try to fight?...” Mab asked, forcing to sound as composed as ever, although she was far from calm at this point. Idath, what is wrong? Why can’t you make him move on?
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Post by himiko on Jun 22, 2008 10:10:32 GMT 9.5
Idath glanced over his shoulder at Mab as he pressed the struggling spirit against the cauldron, relieved to see that she was standing- if a little surprised that, if anything, she appeared to have grown stronger. He shot a cautious glance at her as she stepped closer, but she seemed perfectly calm. And their son, far from snarling out more of his fury at her, sounded confused, hesitant.
"I didn't want to die... The shades gave me their power, I thought I could trick them, get away, and then I could get back here and return to life...I was- I was angry, Mother, don't you understand?"
Mab raised her eyebrow, but nodded slowly, nontheless, "I understand. You died before you were born. But it was not Merlin's fault, wasn't mine..."
"You say that," he snapped, glaring again, "But you didn't die! It wasn't YOU that was buried in that forest."
"It was..." Mab began to repeat impatiently, before he interrupted her.
"I KNOW! But I am part shade now, I was then- what do you think a shade is, Mother? They take anger, we take anger, we feed on it, we corrupt it, turn it into hate... NO!" he snarled to himself, now, "No, I was right to hate- look at what you've done to me, all of you, you all deserve to die!" But the confusion and doubt in his voice was still clear.
"Yes!" Idath thought, giving Mab a small nod, "You've got him..." But when her eyes met his, he could see confusion in them, too, directed at him. She was, he assumed, wondering why their son couldn't move on. Peering doubtfully down at the spirit, still held in a vicelike grip, he spoke softly.
"He's still fighting it, Mab. And he's immortal- he has to let go before the Cauldron will absorb him completely." A bitter laugh came from his son's spirit.
"Even now, you seek to destroy me." He turned his gaze upward, onto Idath, "I will never let go!" he spat, furiously, "I will sacrifice all these doubts to your precious cauldron, and then there will be nothing left but hatred, and you will never be rid of me!"
"You can't," Idath replied simply, "The doubts come from my son. The hatred comes from the shade. It is my son's spirit that is immortal- you can feel it yourself- your doubts are growing stronger. Soon they will be all that's left to you. Doubt, and the pain of what you are causing, of what you have become." Mab took up his words.
"You can stop it," she told her son, who's struggled were beginning to still, as he stared at his parents uncertainly, "If you let go now, it'll be over. You won't have to hate any more. You'll be at peace."
"And will I be alive again?" he asked. Idath shook his head.
"I'm sorry."
"Then why should I?" the spirit growled, his anger returning to the forefront. Idath struggled to think of a reason.
"Because, in the end, this will happen one way or the other," Mab replied, "You can let go now- willingly, make your own choice- or you can wait and be forced into it. Either way, you WILL be gone."
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jun 26, 2008 0:52:49 GMT 9.5
“You’re not strong enough to force me into anything.” Another venomous smirk accompanied the spirit’s reply to the enraged Queen’s words, enough to make her want to scream with anger. If she’d been able to now, she would have plunged that dagger into him herself, if that’s what it took to destroy the shade. She snarled wordlessly, but then frowned, something else occuring to her, as she realised that fury was exactly what the shade part in him needed to survive and grow stronger – he had admitted that himself.
“Not only will you move on, but the shade in you is going to die,” Mab whispered serenely, slowly directing her thoughts on that small part of the spirit that had come from her, that would never have done anything against her and the Old Ways, thus forcing away the rage tugging at her. And that seemed to stir something in him at last.
“You can’t destroy it…” he muttered. There was still confusion written on his face, still the determination to not let go, but there was also a glint there that very much resembled surprise mixed with despair.
“Oh, but I already am,” Mab replied slyly, explained, “There’s nothing to sustain it here. No anger.”
“That’s impossible, mother,” he spat, aware that the shade was part of him, and that once it was gone, he would not have half the power he now possessed, and there would be precious little he could still do. He started struggling in vain once more to get away from the cauldron, as Mab stared impassively at him, her features frozen in that unfathomable expression, not one nerve moving on her face.
She only threw Idath a brief meaningful glance, but he had already figured what she was trying to do, and said nothing more, merely continuing to hold him there, despite his protests against it.
“Remember him as your brother only, whatever he tells you. He can’t harm you in any way now,” Loke reminded Merlin, who was stood a few feet away together with the Lord of Fire.
“Yes, I understand,” the man nodded, his eyes drifting cautiously towards the creature, but his voice steady enough as he spoke, reminding Loke that he was himself again, and didn’t exactly need that constant care anymore. The Lord of Fire smirked at the realisation, and knowing his own temper and just how much he would have liked to be able to deal with the spirit himself, he decided to keep his eyes on the wizard, ignoring the annoyed snarls of his “dear” nephew.
Meanwhile, Mab had not moved from where she was stood, only grown more confident herself, noticing the intensity of his struggles was also weakening, together with the shade in him. He glared again at the wizard across the room.
“So calm, brother? Now that you’ve got your memories back, aren’t you angry with everything that’s happened, everything you’ve caused as much as I did?” Not getting any reaction, he continued, “Or perhaps you’re silently content knowing that dear mother might not make it out of this alive? She’s the reason you’re not with your beloved, isn’t she?” Loke placed a hand on the wizard’s shoulder, probably knowing exactly how this was tearing at him. But Merlin remained quiet, much to the spirit’s own anger. He then turned towards Idath, who merely shook his head.
“Don’t even try… There’s nothing you can do or say anymore,” the Lord of Death shook his head, his voice as low as his grip tightened, dragging him closer to the cauldron. A black mist was mingling with the cauldron’s mist, but this one was different, this one was coming from the spirit, as the shade inside him was disintegrating, much to Mab’s relief, who nearly let out a sigh, noticing all this.
“Remember Vortigern, then,” he shouted suddenly, as a last resort, his voice hardly retaining any of the cold venom it had had before, betraying his willingness to use anything to get to her, to make her show the anger and hatred that his words awoke.
It got a brief frown to play on her face, a snarl nearly escaping her lips. But that was the shade talking, that was not truly her son – she would not let herself believe otherwise, and if anyone could control everything in their being, that would be Mab. She’d had to for centuries, she’d channelled all her energy towards her war, putting aside feelings, regrets. She would merely change focus to a certain degree this time, telling herself again and again that he was the only mortal that might still remember her, despite everything, that he could keep her from fading completely – he’d already had, after all. And that was enough.
“It’s not anger I feel,” Mab managed to reply before the spirit could add anything more, sounding triumphant as the black mist of the shade started to dissipate into thin air.
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Post by himiko on Jul 1, 2008 11:23:19 GMT 9.5
All four watched as the shade was pulled from Mab and Idath's son. All four watched as the spirit sank to the ground, leaning against the cauldron. Idath peered at him cautiously, before releasing him and stepping backwards. Mab, once again, took another step closer. The expression in her younger son's eyes reminded her of how Merlin had looked after he had lost his memories- confused, frightened, upset- except far more so. He was, after all, when you thought about it, just a child- dead before he was born, and the only life he had ever had had been corrupted by shades.
Mab stepped closer, stared down at him expressionlessly, fighting down the inner turmoil that she felt. Her son sat here before her- free of the shades now, and standing before her. Not truly alive, but not truly gone, either. Could she keep him here? Was it possible? Did she want to?
A hand closed on her shoulder, and Loke's voice murmured into her ear.
"I know what you're thinking, Mab. And I can see some of what he's feeling. He shouldn't be here anymore. Without the shade, he has no purpose. He's trapped here by his own immortality. Trying to keep him here would be more cruel than kind. And I know you can be cruel, sister- but I've never known your cruelty be senseless." Mab's fists clenched, but she found herself nodding reluctantly.
Her son glanced round, gaze taking in Mab and Idath.
"Mother..." his voice shook, as though it took effort to use it, "Father... "
"Keep calm," Mab said, in a voice that struggled to be comforting, "Everything will be all right. But you have to let go now..."
Beside her, Idath nodded, "Look into the cauldron. Let yourself be taken by it. It won't hurt, not anymore."
"I wanted to... I wanted to stay. I wanted to hurt you," the spirit answered shakily, "Not anymore..."
"I know," Mab whispered painfully, as she watched her son turn towards the cauldron, rest his hands on it, and begin to fade away himself. She peered towards Idath, "What will happen to him? Is he just... gone?"
"No..." Idath answered hesitantly, "The Cauldron accepted him. Whether he has been reborn, or whether he passes into the Summerland, I know not." Mab nodded, turned her back to the cauldron, aware that this had truly been the final goodbye to the son that had become her enemy. That she had made a sort of peace with him. Peace with him and with Mordred, it seemed quite the day for it...
A wave of sadness that wasn't her own tugged faintly in the air around Mab, and she looked up, to see Merlin looking downcast, but apparently trying to hide it. Under her gaze, he attempted a faint smile.
"At least the shade is gone. And he's at peace, at last. He can't do you any more harm..." Mab nodded, dazedly, part of her acknowledging Merlin's words, and part of her wondering what the outcome would be of the other events that had taken place here- she had given Merlin his magic, and now he had given some back to her, returning the favour, completeing the circle between them. What would the effects of that be?
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jul 4, 2008 20:48:47 GMT 9.5
“Indeed, Merlin. He can’t do any more harm – to Mab, or any of us, for that matter,” the Lord of Fire said to the wizard, obviously much more relieved and in a better mood than he had been in minutes before.
Mab, on the other hand, looked far less at ease, her mind still dwelling on new the doubts she did not want to speak aloud. She seated herself in the nearest chair, pensive, thinking of all that had happened whilst also knowing there were so many things yet to be done, but somehow drained of all strength, exhausted, perhaps in need of a moment to process everything. Her form was still faded, but the continuous weakening from the past hours had ceased, even if not reversed. Mab knew it was because there was no one left to weave spells against her, to put spells on her, or fight her in any other way. She should have felt at the very least relieved, but didn’t.
“This should not have happened. Any of it!” she spat, her voice a mixture of anger, pain and the emptiness she felt, as if saying it could change anything. Idath didn’t reply, and then she remained quiet, also, not wanting to rid him with guilt when it had not truly been all his fault, but so many events that had led to it.
“So much for your lack of anger,” Loke observed, only to receive a rather annoyed growl in reply. “How did you do it?” he asked, genuinely curious. “When you fought off that shade, how did you do it?”
“I… didn’t,” Mab snorted. “I only spoke before he could provoke me any further, while making frantic correlations, focusing on what would happen once the shade disappeared, on how my kingdom would be restored… if he remembered me. How could I ever be angry at that?” She couldn’t, of course, but a pang of anxiety did sneak up together with the reminder of this missing part of the puzzle that she had been putting together, the very piece she had based everything on.
“Well, sister, you’ve won,” the Lord of Fire concluded, he himself noting that the deterioration of his powers had ceased.
“It’s all over now,” Idath nodded reassuringly, but Mab knew better, the knowledge hidden behind her gaze.
“It isn’t. Not yet...” she said slowly. She had won her battle, but had Vortigern won his? Mab took a few steps towards the cauldron again, her appearance composed, even though insecurity was tearing at her. She should have known better by now, she told herself, but even so, there was uncertainty in her eyes as they shifted between the three men, finally resting on the Lord of Death, and she felt her breath catch, when she spoke the next words, demanding for the answer she could no longer delay in finding out. “Idath, show me how the battle ended.”
She couldn’t help the terrible déjà vu feeling as the Lord of Death stepped aside reluctantly, a feeling which got stronger when the liquid surface settled into clear pictures, and the numerous casualties on the battlefield were once again revealed. Mab voiced none of her worries – she had already been granted a first hand preview of what would happen to her and her entire kingdom, if worst came to worst, and she did not want to even imagine it might come about this time around as well – she only searched, her eyes narrowed, looking for a sign of who had won. And then she saw something, and tilted her head slowly, one eyebrow arching, “Is he dead?”
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Post by himiko on Jul 12, 2008 12:22:53 GMT 9.5
Idath, Loke and Merlin crowded around the cauldron beside her. All stared down at the figure she gestured towards.
"He doesn't seem to be moving," Loke said, frankly, if somewhat tentatively, knowing that another blow was likely the last thing his sister needed at this point. Mab paled somewhat, before Idath, somewhat surprisingly, spoke.
"No, wait..." He pointed closer, and the group watched as the figure of Vortigern twitched slightly, moved, and began to sit up. He certainly seemed injured, but not dead, by any means.
"Ah, just unconscious, then," Loke corrected his earlier assumption. Mab nodded, relieved, before another thought occured to her- Vortigern was alive, true, but he was also injured- and if enough of the casualties lying around him were his own troops, then it was possible that Cornwall might still have won the day.
"Show me Gorlois," she hissed, next. To her continued relief, the figure that appeared in the next instant was most definitely, and very recognisably, dead. So, it seemed that the battle was won, after all. And her existence was stabilised, for now.
---
Being knocked unconscious in battle did tend to put Vortigern in a rather bad mood, and the headache that occured when he came to again almost doubled the bad temper and urge to kill things. That said, however, the fact that the enemy had mistaken that unconsciousness for death- or had simply failed to locate him amongst the masses- and failed to finish him off, thus proving his paranoia entirely wise and justifiable, did go someway towards bettering that mood. Of course, having won the battle always helped, too...
Vortigern glanced around the field. His numbers had taken a very significant knock in this battle- Cornwall's men had fought hard, and well, for the most part. Such losses, he imagined, could have been avoided had the accursed Fairy Queen followed through on her side of the bargain. Still, he reasoned, albeit grudgingly- being reasonable made his head ache even more- she had warned him of the ambush Gorlois had planned, thus reducing the potential loss by a fairly considerable margin. And he doubted she had deliberately begun fading into nothing simply to irritate him.
Speaking of which, what had happened to her? She had appeared to him before the battle, yes, but considerably weaker even than the few hours before when they had spoken in his throne room. It was hard to conceive of the idea of Mab having faded into nothingness. After all, ever since planting the idea of coming to Britain into his head in the first place, she had been an influence in his life some way or another- frequently hidden, and more often than not, decidedly unbeneficial to him, but there nontheless. But if she hadn't faded away, then why wasn't she here, crowing over the fact that the Christians had lost this battle, perhaps attempting to show herself, to try and trigger some memories in the mass of soldiers around this area?
Glancing around to ensure that none of his men were looking at him too closely, he spoke her name.
"Mab."
---
Of course, Mab would have been there beforehand, had there not been the small matter of her long-dead son to deal with- not to mention her lack of magic. Vortigern's summons, however, gave her the extra pull she needed to make the journey to the Realm of Men.
"I've been summoned. I'm going to the mortal realm," she turned to Loke and Merlin, "Both of you, go back to the Land of Magic. There are things we need to discuss later. And... thank you. For what you did." Merlin nodded awkwardly.
"A favour well rewarded beforehand, I think..." he replied. Loke grabbed Merlin's arm.
"Come on now, save this touching conversation for later, else I'll have to hit you again," he said companionably to the wizard, "You know, Mab, I'm thinking of setting myself up with some rooms in your kingdom, I spend so much time there, these days- not that you're not such a gracious hostess, of course." He grinned at her and disappeared, taking Merlin with him. Idath turned towards Mab as he left.
"Good luck, Mab- I truly hope you have better luck in the future than you've had lately, the gods know you deserve it." Mab tilted her head to one side, curiously.
"What? No caution advised, no glowering? No telling me how Vortigern deserves to suffer, not to win?" Idath shook his head.
"Not this time, my dear. I've acted somewhat foolishly lately- both of us have," he added, pointedly, "And I do wish it could have gone differently. But was that not ever our way?" He smiled, somewhat fondly, "That night in Anoeth, we conceived our son, and now he is dead. Restored to himself, and lost for good. This chapter has closed, for now. I wouldn't have relations between the Land of Magic and Anoeth soured because of it. Besides," he added, thoughtfully, "I was forgetting, was I not, that nothing lasts forever? Nothing mortal, at least. And I suspect that suits you, as it always has."
Mab raised an eyebrow, "If you intend to cheer me with the comment that nothing lasts forever, you have picked an astoundingly bad time to do so. I will ensure it," she said, fiercely, "The Old Ways will last forever."
"So I should hope," Idath said, a touch of warmth gracing his voice, "And in the meantime- what is it you're so fond of saying? I can wait." Mab gave a growl, and swiped out at him- but not in a truly angry way.
"One day, Lord of Death, your certainty will be your downfall." He gave a half smile.
"Perhaps, my lady, perhaps- but not until even we have long forgotten this conversation, I hope." He bowed slightly, and kissed her hand. Mab gave another growl of irritation, and vanished. Though she wouldn't have given him the satisfaction, privately, she was relieved that Idath seemed to be acting like his usual self once more, hoping that this, and the final vanquishing of their son, and the battle, pointed towards a better time to come.
---
"You called?"
Vortigern whirled to face her, eyeing her quickly up and down. She certainly wasn't looking her best- the edges of her form were still blurry- but she didn't seem to be fading any further, which was something.
"Madam," he greeted her, "I believe some congratulations are owed- and some thanks, too. After all, all these Christians dead..."
"You're right," Mab nodded, "Thanks are in order, though I suspect I shall have to wait a good deal of time before I hear them from you." Vortigern smirked.
"Recent incidents don't appear to have dulled the edge of your tongue, at any rate."
"No, though they appear to have dulled your head somewhat," she gestured to the large bruise on the side of his head, "I cannot heal that," she said, not without a slight sharpness entering her voice, disliking her own reminder of her current state, "You'll need to rest it, have a healer look at it. Do try and hurry out of your sickbed this time, though."
"I seem to recall you make a bad nurse either way, powers or not," Vortigern returned, an edge entering his own voice at the reminder of his earlier experience with Mab and sickness. Mab nodded.
"I imagine you would. But leaving aside our mutual distrust for the moment, there are still arrangements to be made."
"Gods, woman," grumbled Vortigern, "I'm not yet off the battlefield, and already you expect me to start singlehandedly reinstating your religion."
"Not at all," Mab replied, "Leave you to form a religion in my name that you don't follow and know little of? I think not. But certainly, your help in that will be appreciated. First, however," she rested a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks, where the two of them had been walking side by side, and turning him to face her, "I would suggest you begin to organise your coronation. Uther and Gorlois are dead. Arthur is a prisoner." She didn't bother to conceal the smile that spread across her features at her next words, "You are king, now."
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Post by Lane of Magic on Jul 27, 2008 12:50:41 GMT 9.5
“And you have a lot to gain from it,” Vortigern observed shrewdly, although his remark didn’t seem to have much of an effect.
“So do you. What’s new in that?” Mab replied nonchalantly, shrugging. “But I thought we agreed to put the distrust aside for a while.”
He stared back, unable, to surpess the flicker of a grin from crossing his face. He had done his best not to let show his relief, let alone joy, at seeing she was still alive and still very much around. He had succeeded rather well too, but now, she was just stood there, gazing at him, still looking genuinely pleased. Admittedly, things had taken a rather good turn for Mab, however he looked at it, but nevertheless he was somewhat unsure of how to account for this slight change in her attitude, which surprised him – especially her apparent lack of haste regarding the matter of the Old Ways. Speaking of which, there were things that hadn’t quite registered yet, and he had every intention of getting everything straight. He nodded to her words.
“Very well. In that case,” he continued, “Why not start by telling me what exactly you meant about forming a religion in your name. Doesn’t it exist already?” Vortigern asked somewhat confusedly. Obviously, he didn’t know all that had happened in the last hours, and little of it could he imagine. “You’re here, and not transparent for a change. Doesn’t that count?” It sounded quite simple, although the Fairy Queen looked anything but convinced of it.
“I have reasons to doubt that my presence alone is enough to actually trigger-“ Mab began, less enthusiastically, but was cut off by a Vortigern less eager to listen as he was to get his point across.
“Hey, you! Come here,” Vortigern called out to one of the soldiers that were stood nearby. “Can you see her?” he asked slowly, placing a steady hand on the man’s shoulder. Looking somewhat nervously at both him and Mab, the soldier nodded.
“Good. Now, do you know who she is?” Mab feared she already knew the answer to that – for what was worth, it was quite clear that at least everyone could now see her, but the looks in their eyes were of confusion at most, as to what exactly a beautifully dressed woman was doing on a battlefield. It was certainly not the most usual thing in the world, and not exactly what Mab had secretly hoped would happen, despite the spirit’s words. The lack of reply served to confirm her thoughts, but, if anything, she reckoned this was better than having her presence completely unacknowledged.
“Mab, Queen of the Old Ways? Now do you remember?” he continued, the tone in his voice convincing the man to nod immediately.
“Yes, er, Mab, yes, Your Majesty,” he stuttered her name and also something about remembering her, just as he was clearly supposed to.
“Don’t keep it to yourself, then,” Vortigern instructed, watching the man back away as quickly and discreetly as he could. “I knew my men were clever…” he muttered, turning again towards Mab, who was trying really hard not to let an “I told you so” look show on her face.
“He really has no idea who I am,” she finally concluded, giving him a meaningful glance and no choice but to admit to her words.
“No, obviously not,” Vortigern snorted.
“And that’s the problem.” The king realised that this Old Ways issue might be trickier than he had initially thought it would be… [*awk*]
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Post by Incapability on Aug 6, 2008 6:42:35 GMT 9.5
Vortigern was soon snatched away by some of his generals, who wanted him to examine the surviving troops and take care of having the dead buried. They had thrown curious glances at Mab, and, after an especially meaningful look from their king, given her a respectful nod, but they had not spared her another thought.
It was frustrating.
But hadn't she known it would be like this? Hadn't she known that this was the very problem she was fighting?
And hadn't she spent ages coming up with a solution?
Hadn't she?
***
Vortigern had always been rather proud of his ability to shove the problems he couldn't solve out of his mind. Well, or to chop them into tiny pieces. And he tried to keep his mind off Mab and on the battered men before him. Mab, after all, had not been of the help she had dangled in front of him, and these men had risked their skin for him. And won. Vortigern might not be a mild sovereign, but he was not stupid, and he knew that besides fear, limited amounts of praise were a secure way towards the loyalty of his men. And yet, and yet his mind was elsewhere while he patted ragged shouders and shook bloodied hands.
She had never revealed her plans to restore her Old Ways.
What did she bloody expect him to do?
***
She was waiting for him when he returned to his tent late at night, lounging in the only chair like she owned it. Nursing a goblet of the wine he had been looking forward to.
Vortigern threw his helmet into a corner, loosened his swordbelt - slightly - and sat down on his bed, snatching the goblet out of her hand. She narrowed her eyes but remained silent.
"So, Mab, which measures do you wish me to take to restore your religion? Build you a shrine, perhaps?" Her mouth curled into a snarl, but Vortigern did not care. He was tired, he was cold, and he had just defeated the last of his enemies.
"On the other hand, you could just go out there, rebuild the country, and let the people worship you for that." He took a sip and waited.
"I might not be on the verge of fading away anymore, Vortigern, but we might want to take smaller steps."
Vortigern grinned.
"Ah. But if you can't be of any use to them, Lady, what exactly do you expect them to worship you for?"
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Post by Lane of Magic on Aug 9, 2008 9:16:27 GMT 9.5
Mab growled under her breath – gods, she felt like incinerating him. Again. Not because he had gone mad, but because he was making sense and… telling her the truth. He was right, she had to admit. Bringing the people back to the Old Ways would now require more than ever. But that didn’t mean he could just slight her powers like that.
“Who says I can’t be of any use?” she cried, only to gain a humouring look from the king. He had all the time to listen, and didn’t speak again, but she noticed the glint of skepticism in his eyes. And it was vexing.
“You can’t understand it,” Mab finally sighed. “You were never here before the arrival of the Romans, you don’t know anything about me or the Old Ways. But they were beneficial for the people, Vortigern, make no mistake about it. And magic is real, not just illusion. Except that now they can’t remember any of that, any more than you can. So having a…” She realised she couldn’t even call him Pagan, “…non-Christian king on the throne is no longer enough.”
“In other words, you don’t know what to do about it now?” Vortigern asked levelly.
“It’s not what I said,” Mab snapped, “Give me that!” She stood up, grabbed the goblet out of his hand, as if that alone would be enough to grant her an advantage, and started pacing. Thinking. He always challenged her, he always saw right through her, whether it was weaknesses or plans or frustrations, and she did not like it one bit.
It might take a while, Mab thought, but it could be done. She just needed to somehow remind them of it all. If only there were someone to know just a little about it, enough to incite them to learn more about it, perhaps it would be enough to trigger some memories in the old followers, and she would be able to bring magic back. Naturally, whatever course of action she decided to follow, it was imperative that Vortigern openly support it. She closed the distance between them again.
“I need our alliance to be as clear as ever. The people will be told about the Old Ways again, I’ll see to that, but they must know that they can embrace them, that you as their king encourage it. Mortals can be easily influenced, and they will remember. They must.” Vortigern snorted.
“Your determination in the matter isn’t going to make any real difference, you surely know that.”
She snarled, seemed about to start pacing again, but he was quick to reach out and grab her waist, pulling her towards him, and in his arms, as her knees finally buckled. “Stay put,” he said gruffly, tired of watching her pace around. In another swift move, he retrieved his goblet, but kept her there too, despite any snarl of protest. No, he didn’t want her to fade away, dammit, but they just could not rely on non-existent memories, and if he had to spell it out for her, he would.
“I want to keep my part of the deal. That’s obviously in your advantage. You’re no longer fading away, but solid enough, which is also good. But we can’t look on the bright side of things. We must see the ugly one too. And see it the way these mortals as you call them do, not you. It’s not just about your people, not just about your world. However convenient it might be to think that way, it’s also useless for what you’re trying to accomplish.” Mab frowned, but didn’t struggle to stand anymore and, for once, didn’t snap back.
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Post by himiko on Aug 10, 2008 11:29:55 GMT 9.5
"You... have a point," Mab replied, the expression on her face suggesting that she'd just had to swallow several extremely sour lemons, rather than simply concede a point. Reaching out and snatching back the goblet, she gestured with it rather emphatically, barely managing not to spill it's contents, "And, with that in mind, you should perhaps alter your own mindset. You are in the now-very-rare position of knowing who I am, and you are a mortal. Perhaps you think that gives you a unique insight into the solution to this problem. It doesn't. If anything, you are precisely the wrong person to be thinking of a solution." Vortigern's eyes narrowed.
"If you've no intention of listening to me..."
"Be quiet," Mab interrupted sharply, "It has nothing to do with listening or not listening to you. I've already conceded that there's some merit in tackling this from a more mortal point of view. But think for a moment- you remember me, in a world of people that don't. You don't follow my religion, and that is precisely what I wish to inspire in them. You are a ruler, you have power over your people- far more than most. Yours is hardly a typical viewpoint, nor one I wish to inspire more of." She frowned, and peered down into the wine, knowing that this was precisely where she would encounter obstacles. People would follow her if she could perform a miracle, but her powers were so drained by their own indifference that she hadn't the strength to do so. None remembered her except Vortigern, and she could not tie the Old Ways too closely to the crown- it had to be far more than that. There was the cauldron to try- but even if it worked, which was a long shot to begin with, it would prove an agonisingly slow process- and she would still have considerable work to build up the Old Ways to it's pre-Roman glory. It was during this musing that she realised that the goblet was gone from her hand again. She shot a dirty look at Vortigern.
"Well, Madam," he replied, smirking slightly at her glare, "You've come up with problems, but it seems you're just as lost for a solution as I am." He noticed her frown slightly as he spoke, and her eyes seemed to go almost vacant for a moment, but she said nothing. Well, she couldn't, could she? He was right.
"I might not have quite the view to this that you want, but what I said still stands- people will want to see some evidence of what you are, it won't be enough for me to say "Go forth and worship" and hope that they pick it up as they go along, I assume."
"You think I don't know that?" Mab snapped. Vortigern shrugged.
"Well then- there must surely be some magic you can still do that might prove useful."
"If you want the answer to that," Mab replied quietly, "Then I suggest that you go and look outside your tent." Vortigern gave her a suspicious look, before peering outside the tent flap, and starting in surprise. Crouched outside, a dagger in hand, was that hideously ugly, hideously annoying traitor of a woman- the brat's mother, Cornwall's daughter. For all her less than honourable intent, the woman didn't move when confronted by the King of England, indeed, she seemed to have been quite frozen in place.
Casting a glance back at Mab, Vortigern found her now standing right beside him. Taking the goblet from his hand again, Mab lifted it to her mouth, drained it, and placed the goblet on a nearby table. Normally, she would have taken the oppurtunity to make a comment about how Vortigern was slipping. Now, however, she didn't have the energy to. He was right, in a way. Never mind performing a miracle, at this rate she would probably need one herself to sort this whole horrendous mess out.
EDIT: Removed the last part. Yeah. Wales clearly fucks with my head. Bless it.
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Post by Lane of Magic on Aug 14, 2008 2:15:23 GMT 9.5
Fortunately, there was something else she could focus on for the moment – the matter of the accursed mortal who had nearly cost her not only a battle, but her very existence.
“So much for the defense in your camp,” she snorted, just as Vortigern had drawn his swoard out and was about to shred that gargoyle of a traitor out of existence, but before he could land the blow she suggested sweetly, “Perhaps you should call your watchmen, instead of having the two of us do their job for them.”
He stopped, gritted his teeth. He knew full well that Mab probably wanted her dead even more than he did, but maybe getting some men there, making sure they noticed her little spell and her awareness of everything, maybe that was not a bad idea for starters. He nodded and went to leave, but then turned around and looked at her, a knowing glint in his eyes, “Don’t take this opportunity to miraculously help her leave this world, will you?”
“As if I would do that,” Mab scoffed, smiling slightly at the idea – in all honesty she might as well have, had there not been for the minor detail that she was already struggling to keep that spell as it was.
Staring down in disdain at the frozen figure in front of her, whilst Vortigern was bellowing for his guards, annoyed to no end by their incompetence, she leant slightly towards her to take a clearer look and savour the hatred and defeat that shown on her face and in her eyes, as she realised that coming here to finish Vortigern off herself had truly been a mistake that would cost her. But how could she have known that the accursed Fairy Queen would still be here?
“You never should have tried to oppose me,” Mab whispered, contempt lacing her voice. “Didn’t I tell you it would be to no avail? That you stood no chance against me? Now look where it’s got you – your son’s gone, Corwall’s dead too, and I’m still standing. I could kill you right now. Or I could let you live so that you can see with your own eyes how futile all your efforts have been.”
Mab shot her another glare, then flicked her head, sending her slightly backwards – enough, however, for her to land at the feet of Vortigern and the guards who clearly had not been most vigilent on their watch. Of course, she would have rather she’d sent her flying, which should normally have happened, but then, Mab reminded herself, they wouldn’t have known the difference anyway. Admittedly, they were probably too busy worrying about their own lives at this point, considering their negligence.
Using magic, however, even if an insignificant amount only, was already starting to take its toll, and panic began to well up inside her, as Mab wondered what the exact effects to this might be. Starting to shimmer in front of everyone was the last thing she wanted or needed, so she turned to Vortigern and spoke quietly, trying to keep any tone of urgency from her voice, still glancing disdainfully every now and then at the still frozen figure, “Deal with this yourself, as you wished. I can’t stand the sight of this woman anymore.”
Not waiting for him to reply, she stormed out of sight, also letting the spell dissolve.
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Post by himiko on Aug 14, 2008 8:57:29 GMT 9.5
She didn't wait to see what fate Vortigern had chosen for Morgan, even from a distance. She had no intention of undoing her good work in drawing attention to herself in the first place- nor did she particularly want Morgan or Vortigern to see her showing any sign of weakness, even if they did remember her already. Finding a relatively abandoned space in the camp, she paced up and down for a little while, regathering her magic, and reassuring herself that her form looked no more faded than it had been before.
Though she had mocked Vortigern's camp for their own lack of attention to their surroundings, this temporary occupation of her mind had a similar effect on her, so that when a figure jumped out from behind her and called out "Surprise!", she jumped backwards for precisely that reason.
"Loke!" she growled crossly, as her brother grinned innocently at her, "What are you doing here?"
"Just passing by- I thought you might be glad of the company." Mab raised her eyebrow at him, skeptically, and he elaborated, "Truthfully, I was curious as to how things were going, and, quite honestly, it's less of an effort to make one journey here than to sustain an image in those crystals of yours long enough to make out what's going on- and so I decided to pass by and offer you my company," he finished, triumphantly. Though said perfectly cheerily, it still reminded Mab of how seriously depleted this crisis had left, not just her, but magic and the Old Ways in general.
"Vortigern has agreed to help reinstate the Old Ways, he seems perfectly willing to do that. And Gorlois is certainly dead, there's no risk of retaliation from his army, and he was the last of the rivals for the throne."
"But?" Loke prompted, "There's a but in your tone, Mab, I can hear it." Mab sighed.
"Willingness is all very well, but we will need more than that to return the Old Ways to prominence. Vortigern can tell as many people about me as he likes, but it's not enough for them simply to be aware of me- they have to learn to follow the Old Ways again, to worship them. And they won't learn that from Vortigern. Not even from me." Loke nodded, thoughtfully.
"I see your point... Of course, there is Merlin. I know he was never your follower, but he's still more closely linked to the Old Ways than any other mortal- and now he has his memories back. Not to mention, I'm rather confident his doubts about you have decreased into insignificance." Mab nodded.
"The thought was occuring to me," she mused, "Even so, most of what Merlin knows of the Old Ways is based around it's magic, not it's worship. And I'm not exactly in a position to inspire worship at the moment," Mab admitted, bitterly.
"One step at a time," Loke replied merrily, "Merlin can be taught more about the Old Ways, and he can do his own bit of inspiring with his own magic if need be- enough to start them trickling back, at the least, and as they return to the Old Ways, your position grows stronger, and so it goes on. And, on the subject, a piece of advice from a loving brother to his dear sister- this isn't the time to start being picky about who remembers you. Letting Vortigern kill them off certainly isn't the wisest of moves." Realising that Loke was right, Mab turned swiftly back in the direction she had come from.
"You're welcome!" Loke called after her.
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Post by schaffner15 on Aug 14, 2008 9:59:43 GMT 9.5
What if Mab receives a message that says, "The Master's asleep...." What might Mab do then ?
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Post by Libitine on Aug 15, 2008 0:43:03 GMT 9.5
What if Mab receives a message that says, "The Master's asleep...." What might Mab do then ? Dude, don't question it! This is the best Mab fanfic in existence.
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