Morgana fumed silently as she tried not to curse the second eldest queen into dust. Of course, Belladonna went down the path. She could talk anything about how the Traditions needed to be upheld and how Arthur needed to take the Throne since he was the Crowned Prince, but she crossed the line when it came to Lilian’s ability to produce an heir. That was not Lilian’s fault, even though that queen thought otherwise. She often commented to Morgana in private, if she didn’t get catch on the way back to her parents’ estate for a visit, things would have been different. Morgana in turn argued that was in the past, that there was nothing they could do about it now.

Belladonna would never know that affected Lilian and her relationship with her husband. The Warrior Queen didn’t know Lilian had offer to step aside, to disappear from the Kingdom and never return so William could take another wife. William used to give his wife a glare and threw her over his shoulder, disappearing down the Royal Wing. Everyone who knew what that meant, knew not to bother the Ruling King and his wife until morning unless the Kingdom was burning.

However, the poisonous queen will never know the truth about what happened to Lilian. It was not a natural condition because Morgana had promised not to tell anyone outside of the Ruling Family and the Inner Court of the condition. Morgana remembered the event very well. It was the Black Mage who was the one who found the Queen in that condition.

42 Years ago

The Dungeon of the Serpent Estate

Morgana cursed as she peered around the corner. She remembered the Intel the Spy Master had managed to gather. The Queen Lilian was being held in a dungeon of the Serpent Estate. However, the Spy Master couldn’t find out what the state of the newly married Queen and informed there wasn’t many that could sneak into the Serpent Estate without raising an alarm. After much discussion, Morgana was the one who was elected to go. She decided against wearing one of her dresses or even of the warrior women of the House Black wore when they went into battle. She had barrow an outfit from Merlin and braided her hair back, out of her face.

The Black Mage stared at the dozen guards standing in the dungeon hallway. She would have to use magic to distract them. She glanced over her shoulder. The hallway was populated by at least a dozen guards. She smirked. She could do this. She prepared to cast the spell and threw out her hand, but nothing happen. She paused, narrowing her eyes. She pushed her magical sense out and felt an anti-magic force field. They knew Camelot would send a mage to retrieve the Queen.

‘Well, that changes everything,’ Morgana smirked. There was times where she did enjoy the more - physical aspects of battle. She grabbed the rapier from its sheath where she had tied it to her back. The sword - Widow’s Kiss - was one of the last things she had from her father’s era and it had been the last Yuletide gift he had given her before his death.

Widow’s Kiss slid out of its sheath without a sound as Morgana turned away from the corner and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath followed by another as she tried to center herself for the task ahead. She sucked in another deep breath and stepped around the corner, letting the breath out. She strolled down the stone corridor, silently, as the guards stood at the end, talking about something. She angled Widow’s Kiss out to her side, allowing the tip to scrap against the stone. It echoed, loudly. The guards turned as one before Morgana leaped at them. Her teeth bared in a blood thirsty grin. Widow’s Kiss hissed through the air, demanding blood.

Morgana slipped into the age old dance of killing enemies. Widow’s Kiss sliced through flesh like it was butter at the first guard. Red liquid sprayed into the air from the cut and the blade. The guard didn’t let out a scream as he fell to the ground. However, the next guard let out the cry of alarm causing the rest of the guards turned to Morgana. She smirked before she allowed her magic surge through her veins, powering her limbs. She leaped forward. Her right arm flew up, Widow’s kiss extended over her left shoulder before it sang through the air, slashing through the next guard rushing at her. She muttered a spell and threw out her left hand, guiding the spell at the guards. Nothing happened. She cursed sharply. That was out of habit. She was used to fighting with magic and sword. She would have to overwhelm the forcefield somehow before she would be able to use magic again.

A sharp pointed nose guard let out a chuckle as he realized what she was trying to do and stated, “Your magic won’t work here, witch.”

Morgana scowled at him and charged at him. It didn’t take her long to become lost in the old dance of life and death. Old skills were brushed off and used. There were times she had lost her rhythm. She wasn’t used to fighting without magic. However, she adopted and overcame the unfortunate handicap.

Morgana panted, slightly as she came a stop on the far end of the corridor. Widow’s Kiss dripped blood. The coppery tang of blood filled the air. She had forgotten the thrill of battle, the siren’s call that came with the dance of Life or Death, and how it felt when Widow’s Kiss cut through flesh. She took a deep, shaky, breath as she pushed away those emotions. She had to find Queen Lillian.

Morgana went to the dungeon door and peered through the bars. She spotted the High Queen at the base of the far wall.

“Queen Lillian?” Morgana called out. The imprisoned woman shifted. Morgana gasped. The Queen rolled on to her back to see who had called out to her, revealing the fact she had a large knife sticking out of her lower belly. “Shit!” the Black Mage cursed. She flexed her magic and felt it backlashed against her. The ward was still up. Without magic, there was no way she could move the Queen without causing more damage. Morgana took a deep breath before she unleashed her magic, hoping she could overpower the ward. She cursed as she felt the ward pushing back against her magic. She briefly wondered how they managed to set up a ward powerful enough to block herself. She grunted as her magic refused to leave her body. Her hair lifted up, floating around her head. She pushed until there was the sound of glass scattering and her magic rushed out of her form, causing a magical wind to fly down the hallways in a harmless wave. She placed her hand flat against the lock and a clicking sound echoed in the silence before the door swung inward. She hurried over to the Queen and knelt beside her.

Queen Lilian’s glossy eyes drifted up to Morgana as the Black Mage ran her eyes over the Queen’s form. Strand of Lilian’s hair stuck to ether side of her face. The Queen’s complex was ashen. What caught Morgana’s attention when here eyes landed on it was the knife sticking out of Lilian’s lower abdomen. The black mage knew the knife probably did more damage then a curiosity glance informed her.

Morgana stretched her hand over the area, not touching the knife or the area, and performed the diagnostic spell. It revealed the familiar red lines of blood, pink shape of the womb, and the yellowish-green mixed with black with the knife poked into the pink womb. The damaged was done. Lilian would not have children.

“Mor-mor-Morgana,” Lilian panted, a gleam of clarity in her eyes, “You are here.” She tried to smile, but her eye drifted close. Morgana cursed, dismissing the spell and wrapped an arm around Lilian’s shoulder while she cast a series of spells before she lifted Lilian easily up. It would be a miracle if Lilian managed to survive the next few hours. The Black Mage rushed out of the dungeon cell.

Morgana forced herself out of the memory, coming back to the present as Queen Vivien spoke, “You should speak carefully, Belladonna Black-Drake. As long as I live, the Magi will not be charged with treason. They have fought longer then you or I have when it comes to the safety of Camelot and her people.” She stepped toward Belladonna. “I believe them. According to the laws that still exist since the time of King Arthur the First, The Court Approved Magi swore to protect the Kingdom of Camelot with their lives…”

“Obviously, they are doing an excellent job,” Belladonna cut in, her voice icy. Morgana let out a sigh. “Because our Uther is dying, and they are claiming that Arthur may not become the next King.”

The Black Mage was not surprised that the Warrior Queen had interrupted the Elder Queen. Belladonna was not afraid to let people know her thoughts. Morgana glanced at Clarine and Kalliope. Both watched on with somber expressions.

Arthur, on the other hand, looked uncomfortable. Morgana knew he had heard the rumors of the Queens arguing, but seeing it in person was another. He shifted in his chair beside his father’s bed. His eyes darted between his great-great grandmother and great grandmother.

“And if you have read the Historical Accounts, you will know that these two magi have done everything they could have done each and every time the King had reached the 10th year of his Reign,” Vivien went on, “But of course, you dislike reading anything that is not about battle strategy or the reports of the Military.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Belladonna snorted before she spoke up, “And you like reading those annoying, worthless poetry books.” She narrowed her eyes, “Camelot can not afford to look weak. Having a nameless, untried man on the throne will just bring about the Kingdom’s downfall.”

“Arthur is untried, Belladonna,” Kalliope spoke up. She shook slightly as Belladonna spun on her.

“It’s Queen Belladonna to you,” Belladonna growled, eyes flashing, “There are quests Arthur will take and spread his name as the next Ruler of Camelot.”

“No,” Clarine finally spoke up, “I refuse to allow Arthur out of the Castle.” She returned the glare that Belladonna sent her, “If Uther should die while Arthur is away, there would a good chance that our enemies would try to kidnap him, to use him as ransom —”

“No grandchild of mine would allow themselves to be use in a way,” Belladonna stated in an even tone, “If they did,” She turned her gaze onto Arthur, “They should die for being weak.”

Morgana’s jaw dropped. She, personally, knew Belladonna didn’t mean that. Perhaps. The Queen came from a different culture then the other queens. Belladonna came from a family that pride themselves as strong warriors and there was no room for any weak people. However, that was no excuse for that comment.

Merlin never wanted more than now that he had learned that telaportation spell from the Atlantian Spell book he found the other day. It would have come in ready, right now, he mused. A glance at Arthur informed the mage that he wanted to escape as well. He couldn’t believe how nasty the argument was getting between the Queens. He was ready to make some excuse to get himself and Arthur out of the room. However, when Belladonna made that last comment, Merlin’s jaw dropped in surprise. He knew Belladonna was harsh and came across heartless, but this was a new level for the Queen.

Kalliope couldn’t believe Belladonna had spoken those words. She, usually, tried her best to understand why the older queen would even say harsh and heartless words to begin with, but this time, she didn’t even try to understand the reason. It was the one of the most heartless comments Kalliope heard Belladonna say. She saw something out the corner of her eye. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Arthur still sitting in the chair beside his father’s bed. She looked at Arthur. He paled at the words and Kalliope watched as something broke in the prince’s eyes.

Clarine had heard many things over the years since she had married into the Ruling Family, and the majority of the negative comments came from Belladonna. Clarine tried to keep her peace and not to cause trouble for her husband, and later son while they were on the Throne. But the comment that slipped from Belladonna’s lips. She never expected to hear it from Belladonna. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she slowly turned her head. Her eyes widen in horror.

Arthur, her precious grand baby, sat in the chair beside hers with a broken look in his eyes.

Uther narrowed his eyes in rage. He did not raised Arthur to be seen as weak. His grandmother should not have said that. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. He panted. His chest felt tight. It was getting hard to breath. He had been fighting this so-called curse for the last three to four months. Once he caught his breath, he raised his head, intending to tell his grandmother what he thought about her comment. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

You have forgotten your place, Grandmother. Arthur is not a weak Prince, untried, yes, but not weak. He will be the next King.

He heard the word echo in his head, but nothing came out of his mouth. He froze. The Black She-Mage had mention voice loss was a symptom of the curse. He had never been sick enough that he lost his voice. He looked down at the bed in a mixture of horror and the realization of what was happening. He pushed the issue away. He had more important things to worry about. He saw his son clenched the arm rest, his knuckles turned white, and Arthur’s eyes - so much like his mother’s - darted around the room with a pair of broken, watery blue eyes.

Uther wished that he could speak, just long enough to assure Arthur that he did not see his son like his grandmother did.

Belladonna froze, a second after the comment left her mouth. Her eyes widened in a mixture of horror and surprise. She couldn’t believe she just said that. It sounded like her father had spoken through her, from the beyond the grave. She had not thought of that man in years, not since he basically sold her to the King for their alliance with the Kingdom of Camelot. She didn’t shed a tear when he died nor went back to the Noir Estate. A memory drifted upward from her past.

Belladonna glared at her Uncle turned foster father with a fierce hatred she hadn’t experience before.

“You will do as I command, Belladonna,” The Lord of House Black drawled.

“Father,” Belladonna protested, “With all the battles on the border of our lands with Merician, if I go now to Camelot, I could be easily kidnapped and be used for a ransom if they knew I was supposed to be marrying the Prince.”

Her foster father stood up. The chair he had been using flew back, slamming against the ground with a loud bang. His eyes narrowed into a glare. Belladonna had only seen him deliver to those who dare to speak out against him. His hands held up on the desk.

“No child of mine - natural or foster - would allowed themselves to be used in a way,” He growled, “If they did, they should be killed for being weak.”

Snapping out of the old memory, she silently cursed as something shifted on the edge of her vision and she turned her head just far enough to feel her heart drop through her belly to the floor where it bounded once then broke in half. Arthur was still in the room. She looked at his face, reading the pained expression on his face, the broke look in his eyes.

Arthur slowly looked up at her. Their eyes meet. There were tears in his eyes. There was enough pain in his eyes that Belladonna wouldn’t be surprised if he weren’t speak to her again.

Vivien in all her years of knowing the other Queen never heard Belladonna speak so spitefully. She knew the Warrior Queen had problems accepting that she was no longer in a position of power since Luke died on the battlefield and couldn’t try to push her agenda anymore. The Elder Queen often thought that Belladonna never forgave Luke for dying and leaving her alone, especially in the couple years after the Lord of the Noir Estate’s death. Belladonna had been unbearable during that time, losing both her husband and her father in a span of three months.

However, Vivien knew it was no excuse that existed in the world for Belladonna to say those words. Her aging eyesight didn’t miss the fact that their grandson, Arthur, was still in the room and from the expression on his face, Vivien didn’t have a stronger urge to slap Belladonna then she did now.

Arthur knew he was weak as a prince. He didn’t need his grandmother to say it out loud. His hands curled into the plush arms of the chair he sat in. He was used to getting disappointed looks from his father. His chest tightened and his chest heaved. He breathed faster. His eyes darted around. He saw the regretful expression of his Nana Bella, the shock and surprise look of the Magi, the pale horrified face of his stepmom, the wide horror filled eyes of his grandma Clarine, and Grandma Vivi had enraged expressions.

He risked a glance at his bedridden father. Uther didn’t look regretful or horrified, but he looked like he agreed with Nana Bella. That was the last straw. He pushed up, out of the chair, stormed around the royal bed, and reached the bedroom doors. He threw open one of the doors and hurried out. He didn’t look back as the door slammed shut behind him. It echoed loudly in the silence.

“Well,” Merlin finally spoke up once the sound of the door slamming shut died away, “That went well, ladies.” He turned to the Queens and glanced at the king. Uther looked enraged by the conversation, but the king didn’t say anything. The mage frowned. Usually, Uther had a few words to say about any subjects like the current one, but he hadn’t said anything. That was unlike him. “Your majesty, are you alright?”

Uther glared at him, waving his arms around widely. His mouth opened and moved, but Uther’s voice didn’t ring out. Merlin knew if Uther was able to express what he wanted to say through words, Belladonna would have been thoroughly chastised.

Morgana’s gasp echoed around the chamber of the King. Merlin turned to the she-mage with a raised eyebrow, opening his mouth to comment, but he paused, seeing her pale face and the horrified and scared gleam in his eyes.

“He lost his voice,” Morgana’s eyes found Merlin’s eyes.

“Shit,” Merlin voiced the only thought he had. The curse had progressed faster than they had thought it would. A sharp pain rocket through Merlin’s chest. A weight settled on his shoulders as he slowly walked to a nearby chair. He collapsed into it. His eyes flickered over to Morgana and held up an arm.

Morgana rushed over and sat gently down in his lap. One of her arms stretched across his chest. Her hand cupping the side of his neck. Her face was half-buried on the other side of his neck. She stumbled as he wrapped an arm around her, his hand settling along the curve of his hip.

“What’s wrong,” Kalliope asked, breaking the silence. Merlin looked around the room.

Kalliope stood at the front of the bed, holding onto the bed post. Her eyes pleaded with Merlin for information.

Clarine sat in a plush chair, watching the scene unfold before her. Her hands curled into the arms of the chair. Her lips pressed together. Her eyes held a note of worry.

Merlin turned his attention to Queen Belladonna. She sat in a chair at the long table. Her expression was hard to read, but her eyes glinted with worry, and fear. One of her hands lay on the chair while the other hand curled beneath her chin with her elbow propped on the table’s surface.

Vivian, the eldest living queen, stared at Merlin, meeting his eyes when he gave his attention. She let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes. She announced without a question, “He’s dying.”

Both magi knew the oldest queen had lived through this a couple times. She, after all, had been there when her husband had died from the curse.

“Yes,” Merlin said, “He has less than a week to live.”

In the main hallway of the royal wing of the Castle, Arthur spotted Lancelot lending against the wall, talking with Tristan and Gawain. He didn’t stop to talk to them as he hurried past them, down the hall. He didn’t know where he was going. He just needed to get away. Perhaps he would get out of the castle for a while.

He heard the trio fall into line behind him. He wished they wouldn’t, but it is not like he would be a prince for much longer.

“How is the King?” Tristan asked, breaking the silence

“Dying,” Arthur replied in an even tone, silently adding, ‘Leave me alone.’

They didn’t say anything else. They followed him as he stormed through the castle. His eyes darted back and forth. He struggled to catch his breath. His chest tightened.

No grandchild of mine would allow themselves to be use in a way, his Nana’s voice rang through his head. ‘Weak’

Arthur burst through the side doors of the castle that lead down to the training grounds. He sensed the three knights start to hang back as he hurried down to the training grounds.

‘Weak,’ Nana Bella’s voice bounced off of the barriers of his mind, ‘Weak.’

Arthur burst into a spirit, heading to the training grounds.

‘They should die for being weak.’

He barely knew the knights and other men on the grounds gave him space as he stormed over to the training sword rack.

‘Weak.’

He snatched one and twisted on his heel, eyes narrowing on one of the training dummies. He grabbed the hilt with both hands and bought the sword over his shoulder before he stomped with his left foot hand, bringing the sword around. If he had been facing a man, not a straw dummy, he would have sliced a man’s head clean off. With the dummy, however, the training sword thudded into the wooden post. The dummy shook violently.

Arthur pulled out the training sword and attacked, again, with his great-grandmother’s words echoing in his head. He didn’t know how long he attacked the dummy. He knew his arms felt weak and he struggled to lift the sword up. His chest heaved as he panted. He strained to lift the heavy sword up, however, he barely managed to get the sword up to his wait when his fingers loosen. The sword dropped to the ground with a dull thud. He allowed his arms to hang at his sides. He just stood there, feeling numb. He stared past the dummy, at nothing.

Lancelot stepped into Arthur’s line of vision and said, “Let’s get you to your room, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t fight him nor Tristan as they took each arm, placed it over their shoulders, and forced Arthur walk toward Arthur’s royal chambers. Gawain stayed behind long enough to put up the training sword before he rushed after them and ended up leading the way to their location.