The Least Important Explorer {Morgana}

[Cazaril]

He didn't particularly want to be here on his own, but after being with Mumble, he didn't want to worry about someone else when this place was difficult enough. It wasn't a good part of town, but as it was abandoned, there shouldn't be anyone or anything to worry about. 

That's what Cazaril hoped. 

He had left a message for the police and the teachers that he would look into this area of town, and if they don't here from him to go look for him. 

Well, someone had to do it, and it might as well be someone a bit more dispensable than Camelot's finest. 

He had a torch, he was wearing warm, modern clothing, and he still had his sword in his scabbard on his belt. 

Now, he just hoped he didn't have to use it. 

[Morgana Le Fey]

She had left the Casino for some air, to gaze into the night sky and attempt to scry, wanting to see what her foes were doing, where they were and if anyone knew she was here. She had been unable to See inside the Casino, and she wondered if it was the lack of natural light, the stifled air.

She wandered the streets, barely making a sound, her long, black skirts flowing around her and almost giving her the impression of gliding. She looked like a phantom or spectre, and she enjoyed the thought that if someone saw her they would be struck with fear. Being able to create fear in another was power, it was an intoxicating feeling.

She paused as she saw a figure moving ahead, turning into the dark alley, the alley she had first met Vlad all those years ago. She frowned - there was something familiar about that gait, that build. She followed silently, gaining on the figure as she too turned into the Exit de Charly.

She stopped suddenly as realisation dawned on her. He was here after all. A tiny flicker inside her ignited - there was a moment when she wanted to smile, call his name, rush into his arms... but she was not that person anymore. The last ten years, her treatment at the hands of those in power in Albion had seen to that. Her expression hardened, and she raised her hand, allowing her magic to flow through her and creating a small ball of energy in her palm, which crackled and lit her face menacingly, throwing dark shadows across her feature.

“This is a dangerous place to be wandering alone.”

[Cazaril]

Cazaril's hand rest upon his sword hilt as he moved, the night was cold, creeping on the edges like frost on a glass. He had received a text message from Merlin, and had been replying, recalling just how to reply was a difficult matter, but he assumed it would get easier like riding a bike. Not long after he'd put the phone away he heard the voice, crisp and cold in the night.

And unmistakable.

He twisted sharply to face the danger, sword leaving his scabbard in the process, shining in the light of Morgana's ball of energy. It was the only rare piece of light in the darkness. His eyes falling upon the lone figure, and the ball of energy, on the face of shadows. She was utterly terrifying.

Still, he knew the face at once, without the voice. He almost put down his sword, but common sense fortunately kept his sword up in defence. He had been dreaming of this moment for some time, but whatever reunion he expected, or hoped for, none compared to how it felt. To be stood here in the incoming dark, heart in his throat.

"I could say the same to you, Morgana." He finally replied once he'd found his voice. "It's Caz, Morgana. We're...I'm not your enemy."

He hoped she remembered him, he hoped she wasn't about to fight him --- he didn't know if he could, and he hoped. Cazaril just hoped. For a better outcome that what looked like was about to happen. 

He didn't know if he could fight the woman he was in love with.

[Morgana Le Fey]

"I know who you are." She said sharply. "You may still wear that younger face, but I would still know you anywhere." Her voice softened slightly as she spoke, but she caught herself quickly, hardening her jaw and watching him coldly. She couldn't allow herself to falter, to allow him back in. It had been ten years - for all she knew he had another life now, another family. And she didn't need him anymore. He could give her nothing that would help her achieve her goal.

"I have nothing to be afraid of out here. The things that walk in the shadows, that prey on those in the light? I am one of them now." She said, a dark smirk spreading across her lips as she looked down at the ball of energy still illuminated in her hand. "But you are still in the light, I see." She sounded almost disappointed as she looked at him, her head tilting slightly.

Without warning, her eyes glowed yellow and she held her hand out, the ball of energy disappearing. She caught Caz's phone as it left his pocket and flew towards her. She flicked through it quickly, her eyes narrowing and darkening as she read the recipients of his messages.

"Not my enemy? Indeed." She threw the phone back to him. "A friend of my enemies is my enemy, Cazaril." Her smirk returned as she noted his defensive stance. "You think that metal stick will be any defense against me?" She laughed at him, moving towards him, closer and closer until the point of the sword was resting on her chest. "You think that would help you, if I wanted to hurt you?" As she raised her hand again, the ball of energy and light reformed, crackling in the dark and the quiet.

[Cazaril]

Cazaril looked like his whole world had been thrown to his feet. He had trying to prepare himself for this hell, this nightmarish event. For the likely hood that her magic would be more important to her than anything else, and perhaps, it was because he'd prepared himself that it hurt even more.

He wished he'd never bought that dratted phone, wished he had something more powerful and important to say, but he's got seconds, and hindsight is something he hadn't got to hand. His hand squeezes hard on 'the metal stick'

"Yes, friends I've barely seen in ten years, Morgana, friends who were here when I arrived -- familiar faces. I was searching for you! For Mord--"

He doesn't complete the sentence because she's already moved forward and laughing at him in the process, so close that the sword is pressed against her, and he moves it, he's clearly weary, clearly not willing to cause her harm. He's on the back-foot. 

Give him a monster to slay, a beast, but Morgana? He can't. He just can't. 

He takes a breath, and he asks a question into the air, a question he'd been asking himself since he'd heard her voice, since he'd seen her attitude towards him. Since Arthur had said what he had back in the house, since the last time he remembered seeing her, and knowing and understanding what their love and life had been. 

"Are you going to kill me, Morgana?" 

[Morgana Le Fey]

She looked sharply at him as he started to say his name. Her lip curled - how dare he say his name? That child was nothing to Cazaril now, Morgana would make sure of that. She couldn't risk having him get close to her son, having him ruin all the work she had done in the last ten years. Having some of his useless compassion rubbing off on the child. It had taken hard work and cruelty to shape the child into the weapon she needed him to be. There was already too much Cazaril in him - the boy cared too much for others, was too reluctant to cause harm, and it had taken Morgana years to wipe that from him. But she had done it, and she would not risk Cazaril destroying her hard work.

"Your child is gone." She hissed at him, pressing her self closer to him, against the tip of the blade so it gently pierced her skin. "He doesn't exist anymore."

She knew her words were ambiguous, that she was being cruel by withholding the truth. But she didn't care. All that was important was Mordred's power, his destiny. And his father wasn't a part of that.

She laughed derisively at his question, the sound cold and cruel. She smirked at him, her eyes cold and empty of feeling or compassion. "No, Cazaril. I'm not going to kill you." She stepped back from him, shaking her head and folding her arms, the energy ball disappearing once more as she prepared to twist the knife she had already plunged into his heart. "You're not worth the effort."

[Cazaril]

It's immediate, he's been run through with a sword before, had a blade through the chest. This pain is worse. This pain is like nothing he had ever felt.

"Mordred's g-gone?"

He knew what she intended to mean without her having to say it, and every breath was harder to take in, so much so that it didn't matter anymore that Morgana was smirking and not threatening to kill him, he understood only that this --- this was why he'd lost her. He'd lost them both. If Mordred had been taken from her, if Mordred was dead, what else would she have had to live for? He hadn't been there to help them...

As the ball of light disappeared. He threw his sword to the ground. His only defense. It didn't matter.

I've lost them both it doesn't matter. I wasn't there. I wasn't there any they're both gone.  But I can protect people here, the others, I can protect them...

"And what now? What plans do you have for me, the ever so unimportant man. I'm not worth killing, but you can't let me go."

This was the darkest part of town, empty, deserted. The others wouldn't dream of coming here even when the world was good again. The only thing that was keeping him from breaking down was the knowledge that there were others here that needed his help --- if he survived the night.

[Morgana Le Fey]

She saw his pain, she knew she was allowing him to believe the worst possible scenario, an utter lie, but she did not correct him. She smiled at his pain, at his loss. As long as he continued to believe this, her weapon, her son, was safe. He could not be corrupted by Cazaril's goodness. And so she stayed silent, allowing his pain to grow, allowing the loss to take root inside him. By the time he knew any different it would be too late.

And perhaps it was better this way - perhaps this was kinder to him. Better that he thought his son dead than knew that he was alive but evil, a pawn in Morgana's revenge game. She would not let him near Mordred, so perhaps it was better than he believed the child was gone.

As he threw down his sword Morgana felt a swell of anger inside her. He would give up that easily? Of course he would, just as he had left them all those years ago, never finding them again, leaving her to her father's wrath and cruelty, to her enemies' whims. It never occurred to Morgana that he couldn't return, that the magic that had ripped them from Tintagel had worked on Cazaril too, not allowing him to find her in Camelot. Her mind had become warped and dark over the years of anger, regret and solitude, and she had become incapable of empathy, she had a complete inability to consider other's views or experiences.

The darkness had consumed her, and she had learned to embrace it.

"I have no plans for you, Cazaril." She scoffed at him, looking at him with scorn. "I don't care if you live or die." She lied, smothering the small part of her that protested at these words. "All I care about is that you cannot warn my enemies of my presence here." She advanced on him slowly, her eyes beginning to glow. "I will let you run back to your little king, play the ever loyal courtier as you do so well. Live out your pathetic little life. But you will not warn him. You will not give him the chance to seek me out, to prepare."

[Cazaril]

The pain is still turbulent, pushing on his emotions, his eyes wet with unshed tears, bordering on anger, so much anger at himself.

But still, as she steps forward, even with her eyes glowing, and the fear of what that could mean, he wasn't going to lay down without some sort of response.

"I....won't fight you, Gana." He'd not called her that for so many years, his throat tight. "...and I'm not running to anyone."

He could see her anger, and his refusal to fight her made him very aware how vulnerable he was. What did it matter. He'd failed her already. In the ten years he had disappeared from Tintagel, trapped in Chalion his family were never far from his mind, even with options to stay in that country, to stay and live a normal life, he knew it wasn't what he'd wanted anymore. He'd wanted them.

"You think I'd warn Arthur and Merlin you were here when I know what they'd do?" It's his turn to laugh, "Do you think they'd believe me anyway? I'm not important, I never was. If I was so important why didn't they come to find me?"

Cazaril wasn't exactly bending the truth, he knew he had never truly fit in in Camelot, it was why he and Morgana had originally found themselves on the same footing, she'd trusted him once. He could keep a secret. If this was the only way for him to try and save her from herself, he was going to try.

"I was alone until I arrived here again --- I was looking for you for-- for you both that whole time, but if you're so sure about my allegiances, then stop me and be done with it. I'm just a pawn in everyone else's game, just like it's always been..."

So finish it. Finish me. Finish whatever game you're about to play.

[Morgana Le Fey]

She didn't believe him - how could she? Everyone she had ever trusted, everyone she had ever allowed herself to care for had betrayed her. Why would he be any different? She built her wall a little higher, determined that he would not break through, that no cracks would appear. She had worked too long and too hard, given up everything, even the love of her son, for this. And he would not ruin it for her.

Hardening her resolve, she stepped forward again, raising her hand. She would do must be done, as always had and always would.

"What they would do to me?" She scoffed, laughing coldly. "They would not stand a chance against me." She turned and threw a crackling energy ball at a nearby pile of rubble, which immediately disintegrated. "See how my power has grown? I am not afraid any more, I am not weakened or limited by my fear. They would be powerless against me. They will be powerless against me and my allies."

She stopped as he spoke again, lowering her arm, the hardness in her face and eyes softening slightly, her back still turned to him. She had always hated when he spoke of himself this way, so unaware of his own worth. The smothered part of her, the part that still loved him so deeply began to rise to the surface again, wanting to contradict him, to touch his face, to convince him of his importance. But she couldn't. It was too late, and she allowed the sadness at his words to burn into anger as she turned to face him again.

"Enough." She spoke sharply, moving towards him and placing the palm of her hand on his forehead. "Neither of us gain anything from this lament, Cazaril. It's over."

How could two short words mean so much?

[Cazaril]

Cazaril barely breathes as he watched her. As he considered the gravity of this event. He knew that he was about to die, or something like a death. He'd faced death before now, so many times, but this seemed different. Over a decade ago, this woman had been the most important thing in his life, he remembered her smile as she lay next to him, he remembered their little boy, before he started to really grow tugging at his fingers. He remembered how he had told her he would always help her and take care of her if that's what she wanted.

But then everything changed, Morgana changed, the world around them, and then he did too, the spell granting him youth --- it did more than take his age away.  In the end, it took everything away from them. 

So, here they both now stood opposed, the witch and the tutor. His shoulders straight, his features tight, ready for her to finish him off, ready for whatever end she saw fit. That was, until he saw something stir in her face that was not anger. Perhaps it was just a moment. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but for just a second or two, he saw the woman he had asked to marry him. The woman who had once said yes.

"Then do it," he said, but what was originally planning to be fierce was gentle. More gentle than anything else he'd said in this street. His eyes are wet, but not shedding, he can feel his heart pounding in his throat, fingers clasped at his side.

As the magic seems to pulse near his forehead, illuminating his face brightly, there no other defense than his look of quiet determination, and perhaps, in reality, he's imploring her to do something he felt should have happened so long ago. "Finish this."

[Morgana Le Fey]

She looked into his eyes as he spoke, as he almost begged, and her resolve shook, just for a moment. They had shared so much, he had loved her when she didn't love herself, when she felt completely unworthy and was afraid of everything - her power, her father, the darkness she knew was inside. She thought of their son, alone on Avalon, training for her revenge.

And she nearly didn't do it.

But her eyes hardened and narrowed, and she pressed her hand harder onto his head. "Very well." She said quietly, before her eyes glowed gold and she glared at him. Her eyes closed as she worked her spell, concentrating as she penetrated his mind, reaching into his mind and invading his memory, taking all trace of herself and this meeting. She felt him shift under her touch but ignored it, screwing up her face in concentration as she planted new memories, as she twisted and warped his mind.

He could not be allowed to remember anything, to tell anyone of her arrival, of where he had seen her. It wasn't time.

She pressed harder, pushing him downwards until he was on his knees on the floor. Finally, she released him, slipping back into the shadows before he came back to himself and saw her again.

Watching him silently, unseen, she felt a pang of regret. Regret for what she had to do, regret for what could have been and what had been. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away, refocussing her mind on her new ally, on her plans, on everything she was going to achieve.

On those she was going to enjoy killing.

[Cazaril]

Cazaril's face twisted in pain as she invaded him, powerful as her magic was, she didn't realise the full intent of her magic, as the memories she forced upon him changed the circumstances of this event, so much more began to happen.

The magic that had been used on him before, had been counteracted and broken down. Suddenly, the man under her fingers started to age dramatically, grey sprouting quickly, wrinkles crawling like roots through skin, hair growing coarser, his facial shape slightly changing, to amount for the 10 years he had truly gained in Chalion. Now no longer looking the age he'd once been when they had first met, but his true age.

Not that it was clear if Morgana had noticed this sudden magical transformation as he collapsed to the ground in a heap when she was done with him, the dark distinguishing his features. The only light, the moon -- was all that revealed his presence now as he was left alone.

With any luck, his text message, and his lack of returning, would mean someone would come looking and get him back to safety.

(fin)