They wanna make me their queen.

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@caoranach
They wanna make me their queen.
merryshieldmaid:
“And equally you can come to love someone more dearly in a few weeks or months than another you’ve known for years,” Merry replied, not sure there were any words she could use to describe or explain the way humans worked that this … being … whatever she was, would understand. “We want to give time to people because we love them, not the other way around. Love …” She had little experience of romantic love, but she thought of her mother, of Caelia and the other faeries, the women who had helped raised her and she loved them. “Love is caring about someone’s happiness, wanting to protect them. It’s a lot more than just time.”
She didn’t even really know why she was defending humanity - it was their violent nature that worried her, that made her fear for her home and her Queen. And yet she was a human, she knew that, and not every person was the same. But to an immortal? Perhaps they were. “Do you need to understand?” she asked after a moment. “Can you not just accept that they experience things differently to you?”
The Caoránach was about to point out, rather dryly, that it was difficult to care for and protect someone when you were dead. When you have time with someone you love them. When they die you loved them. Still, she kept this to herself, intrigued by something else the young woman said. Indeed, why did she need to understand? Humans were her enemies, after all. Child slaughterers and infighters. “That would be easier, wouldn’t it?” Her expression contorted into something that resembled a bitter smile. “But in my experience it is difficult to accept things without trying to understand them.” She paused for a moment, reflecting. “When mortals do it, things rarely end well. I’ve seen the damage caused by the blind faith of men; men who tampered with things they did not understand.” She looked back at the strange maiden, something predatory creeping into her eyes. “I am not a blind lamb, acceptance and ignorance are not in my nature, and even if they were... I suspect I would be all the more dangerous for it.”
eriann-the-guard:
Eriann had hoped that she might be skilled and was delighted in finding that it was just so. The slightest of smirks graced his features for a moment at her words, but were one not paying attention they would have missed the guard schooling his features back into the practiced impassivity he normally wore. He skirted away as she made to kick out at his shins but even so he wasn’t near quick enough and she still caught him. While he kept himself from toppling into the dirt he knew that there would be some pain from the blow later in the day. This woman was clever and it felt as if she wasn’t even trying. At least not yet. “A lady would not risk the bruising of a man’s pride in such a way” he quipped, knowing full well that he had been the one to invite the lady to fight and hoping that she might pick up on his teasing despite not an ounce of it creeping into his tone. Though this was far from the best time to admit it, it was definitely worth noting that a lady with a touch of ferocity and wit to her was a tantalizing thing. His next punches were just as calculated but they lacked in the slowness of the one that had proceeded them.
She caught the corner of his lips turning upwards ever so slightly, but before she could be sure of anything the grin seemed to vanish. “And here I thought that was the entire point of this exercise. To bruise you.” Ha made a valiant attempt to doge her kick and while he avoided the worst of it he was forced to stagger backwards. Strangely enough though, he did not back away. The Caoránach watched as he held his ground, her amusement growing with every passing second. Was he actually enjoying himself? Not all mortals that crossed her path were smart enough to fear her, but was this one foolish enough to enjoy himself? The thought was absurd enough to distract her for a moment and one of his punches landed on her side. While the blow initially send a wave of rage throughout her, though it was quickly fallowed by something else- something she did not expect. The Caoránach was not accustomed to pain, in her experience the worst thing a human could do was annoy or inconvenience her. This was different. This soldier, or whatever he was, had hurt her. Not critically nor permanently, but he’d managed it somehow. Perhaps it was in part due to... some... measure of skill, but she attributed it mostly to her own wandering thoughts. Still, the fact that he’d been able to cause her any paint at all gave birth to an entirely new sensation. Not quite respect, but almost. With that realization she wasn’t sure of what she wanted more, to crush him, or to see what he would do next.
eriann-the-guard:
As she moved his eyes surveyed her every movement, noting that the beauty of each movement greatly resembled that of a predator stalking their prey. The captain was not content with the role of meek field mouse but he would play the part if need be. There was certainly something to be said of a woman who could stare down a man she could undoubtedly ascertain was a skilled fighter and spur him on to attack her still. Until he knew what she was capable of he would not show his full range of skill. Eriann moved slowly towards her his lips raising until his expression matched hers, “If you don’t wish me to be gentlemanly than so be it” he replied, knowing full well that the statement was a lie. He had hoped that she would be the first to attack so that he could learn a bit more of her and that was undoubtedly what she was doing with him. His movements were purposely slow as he edged closer and threw out a punch. Any skilled fighter would easily be able to block the blow while anyone lesser would have been caught in the chest.
They circled each other briefly, her eyes never leaving him. When he finally approached her his movements were slow. Not lethargic, but measured. He was being cautious and that was his first mistake. She could see the muscles tensing in his arm, his fingers curling into a fist, his body shifting back to gain momentum. It seemed to happen in slow motion for her. Dodging the blow would be as easy as breathing, but she was no ordinary beast. She moved with the confidence of an animal that had never been hunted, a creature that had never been injured. When his fist came soaring towards her face she did not dodge. Instead she raised her own hand in one swift motion, catching his fist in midair, just inches away from her face. His hand collided with hers, and while he’d been slow she was pleased to find that he’d put some strength into it. The shock of catching the blow caused a slight ache in her wrist, and she smiled at the discomfort. “A gentleman, you say? A gentleman should know better than to tease a lady.” She pushed his hand to the side, kicking at his shins. “Would you like me to hold back as well? Would that be more ladylike of me?” She would certainly have to hold back regardless of what he said. Mortals were such delicate things, and she was rather amused by this one. Wouldn’t want to accidentally break him.
merryshieldmaid:
Merry glanced over her shoulder at the speaker, eyebrows raising slightly. If she had grown up as she did and led the life she had, such a speech would probably have greatly confused her. As it was, she found it a little odd and morbid, but was astute enought to recognise the signs that she was talking to someone magical, to whom mortal lifespans were clearly no longer than the blink of an eye. “I do not love him for how much time I may or may not have with him. My own death may come before his, after all. I love him because he makes me smile and provides companionship.”
The woman’s words only served to confuse her further. Such strange creatures indeed. “Surely you don’t believe that. What is love if not the time we give to one another? You can dedicate a lifetime to someone, whether it’s love or not, you cannot feel that way towards a stranger.” She hardly understood how humans could come to cary for anything at all. She had spent millennia watching over her children, seeing them thrive and grow and change as centuries passed in the blink of an eye. A mortal could not imagine that kind of love. “And yet I’ve seen things lose value when held in abundance. Men say that ‘familiarity breeds contempt,’ do they not? People seem to want things to last forever, but they still manage to last too long. You make oaths of everlasting love and fidelity, but you become bored and unfaithful as the years go by. Such a mess and in so little time. I will never understand...”
guineverethekind:
Guinevere followed the woman’s sight with hers, smiling a bit at the children. “They are only playing,” she said. “Dreaming of becoming great knights of Camelot one day, I do not thing there is anything wrong with that.” She watched the other woman curiously. “Have you never played pretend as a child?”
The Caoranach frowned at the woman’s words, finding no comfort in them. She was a creature born of the first flames to grace the earth, ancient as time itself. She most certainly never played. “Pretending to fight, to hunt, to kill... this is a game to them? To you?” Her own children were not innocent of murder, but at least they did not fight amongst themselves. At least they did not kill their own kin.
eriann-the-guard:
He had seen battle and witnessed destruction, his hands had been bloodied and bruised by experience that none around him could rival and yet he wouldn’t dare call himself champion. “No, but I do lead them” he replied, willing himself to not shrink back at her analysis of him. To him it was important that his men be prepared for all matter of things whether it be mighty creatures that caused the earth to shake and bones to tremble or delicate featured women with bare feet and ice in their gaze. Women had their own way of winning battles over men and that shouldn’t be underestimated. Whispers gathered about him as he lowered into a fighting stance, but he silenced them with a glance as he moved towards the woman before him.
She thought about smiting him then and there, but where would the fun be in that? “Their captain, then,” she said, not sure if she was impressed or disappointed. So this was the man that lead the guards of Camelot. The man who trained the warriors that fought and killed her children. Her gaze hardened, though she remained perfectly still. It wasn’t until he crouched into a fighting stance that she reacted. She circled him slowly, gracefully, her movements calculated and elegant, like some feline toying with its prey. He was clearly larger than her, but her strength was ancient and powerful. Magic that was as old as time itself flowed through her veins, and she barely noticed as a small crowd began to form, the guards backing away to make space for the two of them. She would not move until he did. His strength was of little consequence to her, but his skill might yet impress her. She wanted to see how he would attack before responding. She arched a teasing brow and the corner of her lips turned upwards. “Are you going to just stare, or do you believe that the lady should make the first move?”
Knights and guards were trained entirely separately, their paths hardly ever overlapping. His men trained hard, steadfast in their duty as protectors of everything belonging to their King and country. Eriann himself made certain that they were well prepared for whatever may come their way. Today’s lesson falling into the realm of hand to hand combat. The captain didn’t have so much pride as to believe he himself couldn’t learn from his men so when it came his turn to step in he fought to the best of his ability, falling to the dirt every so often but also giving his fair share a tumble onto their backside. “Do you wish to participate?” he asked, eyeing their observer as he removed the tunic that clung to his sweat drenched skin.
The Caoranach made her way into the citadel relatively unnoticed. She wore a simple white gown and walked with bare feet, her long golden locks plated in an ornate braid. Those who stared at her for too long where met with an icy cold glare and quickly continued on her way. She gravitated towards the sound of conflict, drawn to chaos and violence by her very nature. That is how she ended up walking relatively unchallenged into the barracks, where she watched in silence as as the men sparred. One of them in particular seemed to stand out, moving with a kind of mastery and grace that many of the younger brutes seemed to lack. Suddenly the man spoke, and the corners of her lips turned upwards. Really? A mortal man dared to challenge her? She didn’t know if she was more amused by his foolishness, or impressed by his daring. “I don’t see why not.” She stepped forward as all eyes turned to her in awe. “You are the champion among these men, yes?” Her eyes trailed his body with predatory curiosity.
“Shh, you.” Merry turned as her horse nudged her shoulder, and reached up with a smile to scratch his nose. He whickered happily and, laughing quietly, she relented and pulled an apple from her pocket to feed to him. “Alright, alright. You win.”
Where all mortals this weak willed? The Caoránach watched as the odd woman offered the apple to the horse. “If you overfeed him it will be a short lived victory,” she said with caution. Her intention was not to offend or insult, but she was puzzled by the behaviour of humans. “Even shorter than it already is. As it is, he has a few decades left at best. Such fickle creatures. I wonder, does his imminent death make you love him less or more?”
“It looks beautiful Hazel.” She cooed, running her fingers through the girl’s honey colored tresses, which she had decorated with the many flowers she had collected. Now that she was satisfied with her own hair-do, Hazel proceeded to put flowers in Saoirse’s already formed braid. The red head sat still, letting her young charge go about her little task and smiling at the individual. “Was there something that you needed?” She asked.
The Caoránach watched the scene unfolding before her with seemingly cold detachment. Her eyes followed the brown haired child’s movements with predatory precision. The child picked flowers from the grass, condemning them to die in the older girl’s hair. She wondered how that was different from her own children picking off mortals. The flowers did not fight back, however, they did not object to the little girl who happily plucked them from their stems. The elder girl commented on their beauty, and Caorá wondered if there was a certain beauty to humans as well. “What a lovely little girl,” she said cautiously. Why should the girl live while her own children were hunted? She approached the two girls, kneeling down before the youngest. “What’s your name little one?"
“I hope I am not being too forward, but I feel like something is bothering you.” The Queen watched the person standing before her carefully; she wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if they were hiding something. “I want you to know that you can speak to me if anything troubles you.”
The Caoránach watched the children playing in the market, chasing each other and waving around toy swords. She stood in silence, wondering if one day they would grow up to weild steel instead of wood. Perhaps they would grow to be knights and go on quests, and perhaps one of those quests would be to hunt down some monster or demon. Her children. A woman approached her and though in most circumstances she would have ignored her or walked away something urged her to speak her mind. “Such innocence,” she said with a small frown. “They are playing at killing. I never thought...” she trailed off, her eyes were focused on the boys, and she did not know herself whether she was speaking to the woman or to the emptiness itself. “We must be weary of the battles we wage. Children will listen. All of the things we do, children will see... and learn.”
The Caoránach walked barefooted through the streets of Camelot leaving fading scorch marks in the shape of footprints in her wake. Her eyes were wide and seemed to be focused on nothing and everything at once, observing the world as if she were seeing it for the first time. She examined the people that passed her by with cold and calculated curiosity. She passed a stand in the market littered with a variety of blades and shields, and her reflection caught her attention. Approaching the stand slowly, Caora took in the sight. She’d spent the better part of the past millennia hidden away on a small island in the middle of Loch Dearg and the only times she’d seen herself were on the murky waters of the lake. It was odd to see herself clearly reflected in the polished steel.
The merchant made some comment about needing to buy something or continue on her way, but she silenced him with a single glance that seemed to send shivers down his spine. A person came up besides her as she picked up a dagger with a wide blade and examined her reflection. “Strange... to think that in the heat of battle the last thing a person might see is his or her own reflection in a blade. Perhaps we are all our own undoing that way.”
The Caoránach | Mother of Demons | Charlize Theron | Taken
“Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep, and carry you down into sleep.”
Biography:
Vicious and protective, The Caoránach is the perfect balance of power and order. Tales of her are as old as time itself and it is said she was born along with the first spark of fire ever to be lit. From that moment onwards her soul was forever linked to the flames. In many ways she was the living personification of fire, full of passion and rage. She was as unpredictable and as unforgiving as fire and her power rivalled that of the ancient faeries and druids. As time passed she grew lonely, for few of the gods’s creations roamed the earth back then. So, she reached deep within herself and cut out a piece of her heart, tossing it into a fire. From the smoke that rose an array of monsters and demons were born. These creatures were dark and wicked, for they had been created out of the loneliest and most twisted part of the Caoránach’s heart. Still, despite their vicious and haunting nature she loved them, for these demons and monsters were her children. The centuries passed and the world became far too crowded for her taste, so she receded to a secluded lake deep in a forest in Britain, and it was known to all as Loch Dearg, for if anyone disturbed her she would stain the lake’s water’s red with their blood.
The Caoránach’s creations continued to roam the earth, causing mayhem and suffering, and though they were creatures of evil she loved them as any mother would. She cared little for mortal lives, so in her eyes the atrocities committed by her children were not sins, for humans were meant to die one way or the other. Her nature was not cruel or heartless, she simply didn’t understand how any value could be placed on anything as fickle and messy as a human life. Mortals were and still are nothing but insects to her, and if her children enjoyed swatting them and smushing them then so be it. However, one does not expect an ant underneath one’s boot to fight back. When Camelot was born men and women began to bond together against ‘greater evils.’ At first it was just against each other, and the Caoránach watched the war between the Saxons and the Britons with distant amusement. Then Arthur took the throne, and his knights took to hunting down monsters. Though the Caoránach spawned countless beasts she felt the loss of each one as if she were the one dying. They were her creations, her children. Her immortal sons and daughters were being picked off by pathetic humans. For the first time she was forced to consider them as more than insects, and her shattered heart ached with fury and sorrow as mortals grew in strength and her children died.
Though her magic is great, her demons and beasts are a part of her. With every one that died her power dwindled. There was a time when she could have set the entire realm on fire with a flick of her wrist, but with the loss of her offspring she was left broken in more ways that one. Pieces of her heart were being snuffed out of existence, leaving her cold and hollow. For the first time in centuries the Caoránach left Loch Dearg, and she made her way to Camelot to see for herself what these humans considered greatness. Still, it was more than innocent curiosity that moved her, for while she may not have the power to wipe out humanity like the pests they are, she is far from weak. Without knowing it Camelot declared war with the Caoránach by hunting down and killing her monsters. She is determined to avenge her creatures and strike back at mankind, and their children.
Connections:
Pellinore: Enemy
Merlin: Enemy