#{aur drabble

[arcxnumvitae]

His chest rose and fell rapidly, out of breath, muscles screaming, and yet--

Victorious. Still standing as his sword pointed downwards at his sparring opponent on the ground, who looked equally as stunned as him at this outcome.

"...Wha--"

...

You had got to be kidding.

[arcxnumvitae]

Afterwards

Several weeks had passed since the defeat of Iain. Weeks spent rebuilding and reassuring his people. The gentry felt fragile in so many ways after the madman had wreaked his havoc, but perhaps that was the consequence of such a long era of peace. Or, as close to "peace" as was possible for their society.

As for himself...

Camhlaidh stared down at his right arm, now neatly severed from the elbow downwards-- a parting gift from Iain. It had taken some getting used to, for better or worse. Oftentimes, he still moved to use a hand that was no longer there and felt the wave of loss all over again. But if the Physician's idea was correct...

"It should be like maneuvering plants as usual with your abilities, Your Majesty." The fae bustled into view, abruptly taking hold of his arm to examine the stump without a single consideration for personal space. He supposed things as grisly as lost limbs and the like were nothing unusual to one who had seen their fair share of death and gore. Their finger traced up the length of his arm.

"If you anchor it here... The greatest difficulty will be learning to move it as your own, but with time...yes...I believe..."

Their words soon faded into their usual idle mutterings, but Camhlaidh didn't have time to spend another hour listening to their theory and speculation. Closing his eyes, the king focused his breaths.

The familiar pull of the land responding to him tugged, and when he opened his eyes again, he was greeted with the sight of a verdant arm, one made completely of plants. Camlaidh tried to move a few fingers, and the doctor's earlier speculations were correct. It was difficult, and clunky. His command of plants was always active, whereas reaching for an object or moving a finger had never required any thought. It would take some training to utilize well.

The Physician's eyes lit up with glee, and already they had begun muttering under their breath of the exercises and tests they would develop to aid the king in growing used to his new arm.

[arcxnumvitae]

Part 12

Tara, of course, couldn't help but brag a little.

"I never said he was dead, did I?"

It had been a tricky plan-- distract him long enough to move him into position by the throne, pull Aithreachas from his control if only for a moment, and hopefully overpower his control of Seelie with their combined forces long enough to land a blow on him. He'd nearly leapt in anyways with his own borrowed sword, one pilfered from the armory minutes before, the few times it seemed Iain was close to hurting Tara, and he himself had not managed to strike the fatal blow they had hoped possible. And of course, his wounds were reopened and bleeding once more. But they managed to deal a great blow, and hopefully they could manage to see things through without getting themselves killed.

Enraged, Iain roared and charged, and the siblings leapt into action. The two fought the man together, each covering the other's slips and mistakes. The ground rumbled as Iain pulled parts of the room itself asunder in his rage. Chunks of earth torn from the ground and launched at them, bits of the ceiling ripped apart and launched like wooden spears, it took everything simply to dodge the assault or redirect the materials just enough to miss him and Tara. His sister kept up best she could but without the land's blessing, all she could do was dodge the land thrown at her and hope her brother could handle the rest for her.

But Tara was already exhausted from her earlier bout, and Camhlaidh himself was still clearly weakened by his injuries. The lost arm slowed Iain, but the man still moved fueled by his rage and spite. It would have almost been admirable to Camhlaidh, if it weren't such a nuisance.

Once again the battle lay precariously balanced, with the slightest shift risking it falling one way or the other.

That shift came when a piece of stone caught Tara unawares, and the princess was sent crashing to the ground in a painful heap. Iain's sword soon followed, and the princess braced herself, yet again, for the impact.

Instead, her brother's weight rocked into her, and Tara opened her eyes to find the tip of Aithreachas only inches away from her, protruding from her brother's back before her. The sword had been run through her brother's chest, and Tara's breath froze in her throat. Above them, Iain's similarly surprised expression morphed into one of twisted glee, and with a quick movement the sword was drawn from Camhlaidh's chest and cleaved through her brother's arm, pulling a ragged gasp from him. Tara's shock stilled her, but her brother's noise of pain jolted her into action. Iain was too busy admiring his small bit of retribution, the arm lined with pale green marking laying on the ground, that he didn't notice Tara's sword until it pierced his shoulder. The man attempted to recoil, but it was too late-- the attack held him in place as Camhlaidh finally drove his sword through Iain's chest, straight through the fae's heart.

Unbelieving eyes stared down at Camhlaidh's face, pale yet resolute, and Iain staggered backwards when the siblings pulled their blades free from his body. Silver blood poured from the man's wounds, and he attempted to use his sole hand as if to stem the flow.

"Y-you...! He took everything from me! Everything! I..." The strength left Iain's body, and the man sank to the floor as his blood soaked the earth of Seelie yet again. "My brother..."

The king forced himself to his feet, and Tara watched Iain silently from the floor. Camhlaidh's gaze was pitying.

"My apologies cannot cover the scope of what you lost-- what was taken from you-- and those who gained from it. We all exist now because of you, and I will do what I can to make the story, in its entire, awful truth, known throughout the land. Return to the earth, and...may you be at peace, my ancestor."

Iain's uncomprehending expression remained until the light left his eyes and his expression slackened. The man's body began to turn, plants and grass growing from its mass. He was gone.

And with that, Camhlaidh himself finally collapsed to the floor, unconscious amidst Tara's increasingly worried cries for the physician.

[arcxnumvitae]

Part 11

"What do you think happened? We wound up dueling, and that weakling let his guard down around me." As she spoke, she drew her sword and brandished it.

Iain nodded in seeming understanding, taking a step away from Ruaidhri and closer to the throne. A hand rested atop it.

"Ah, so you killed him? I would not be surprised, the young Moireasdans do seem to have a penchant for treachery. What, did you think your path to power would be paved once I was gone if you used this opportunity to kill your weakened brother?" Iain gazed up at the throne, its twisting wooden branches, his eyes flashing. "I would not be surprised. Trod upon those close to you, and turn them into the very symbols of your reign..." The hand resting atop the throne clenched, and Iain turned towards Tara.

"I hope you at least afforded your bother's remains a more dignified resting place than mine did."

And with that, he struck.

Tara raised her sword as Iain closed the distance between them, and the clash of meeting metal rang out through the room. The princess' gaze slid towards Ruaidhri's still, unmoving form by the throne. Had he fallen unconscious? Damn. The earth beneath him shifted and began to pull the still man to the far reaches of the room, hopefully far away enough from the fighting. But he would need medical attention soon, the blood pooling around him didn't bode well.

Seeing her momentary distraction, Iain took the opportunity to twist Aithreachas, breaking their stalemate. The sword swipe nearly took her head, yet as the princess ducked the ground shifted beneath her feet, nearly throwing her off balance. Only a well-timed roll away saved her from a second, near certain death. As she came to her feet, Tara saw a shift of moment above and internally cursed. She couldn't afford too many slip-ups or else things would get upended all too easily. There was no room for mistakes.

Tara righted herself and pressed forward towards Iain with measured swipes and dodges, stumbling but barely managing to nimbly dodge the man's movements of the ground below and the plants that attempted to grab and pull at her with every move.

He was distracted by the battle and his fervor to end her life himself, but even then dodging him proved increasingly difficult. She could barely keep up, and if she attempted to keep this delicate balance up it would be only a matter of time before she was the one who lost. But that was fine, she only needed to keep him busy a little longer.

They reached the throne, and Tara could already feel the strain eating away at her. Just then, a small hole appeared beneath her foot, and the princess stumbled as her leg was caught. She tried to summon a root, a plant-- something, to pull Iain away, but his control superseded hers, and she watched as the man raised his blade above his head to bring down, victory glinting in his eyes.

But the man suddenly stumbled backwards, and shock filled his expression as he glanced downwards to find a root fastened securely around his ankle.

"What...?" Iain's mouth gaped, and it was only then that he realized his hand, once holding Aithreachas, was now empty.

Movement above was Iain's only warning before the figure, waiting in the rafters of the ceiling, brought the shining metal blade down and cleanly severed the man's arm at his elbow as he landed.

Iain roared in pain as blood flowed from the wound, and just as quickly as Aithreachas had been stolen away from him in his distraction, it was summoned back once more as Iain glared in surprise at his attacker.

"I thought...?!"

Camhlaidh said nothing as he pulled his sister free from the hole and drew his blade.

[arcxnumvitae]

Part 9

The sounds of clashing blades rang throughout the forest. By some silent, mutual understanding the dual consisted of only their blades. A dual to the death between two of Seelie's children with no use of the gifts granted by the land itself.

He fought through the pain radiating from his abdomen the best he could. Though his healing was accelerated when in Seelie, the wound left by Iain's attack had still aggravated at just about every point during the journey thereafter. He didn't need to look to see that fresh silver was staining his shirt, but there was little to be done about it when the chances of any possible rest was far in the future. Or very near if Tara had her way.

His sister attacked with a ferocity he'd never seen. While still controlled, her movements were full of a rage he'd never witnessed in his younger sister before. While his time with the Bastion usually would have granted him the edge over her in actual combat, his exhaustion, the wound, his mother, all of it weighed heavily on him. A few swipes of her blade trailed far closer than they should have.

And him? Could he bring himself to truly kill her? ...Either way, it seemed he would have little choice in the matter. Only one of them would be leaving this clearing alive, and he would do what he could for this damned land. And for Shilo.

The still-pouring rain made it difficult to concentrate as water streamed into his eyes. Not a single word had been exchanged between the both of them since the blows began, for what more could be said? Tara's sword flashed, and Camhlaidh hissed as a new cut appeared on his arm, silver blood mixing with rivulets of rainwater. Tara swung again, and he parried the blow, but what should have been a solid hit instead harmlessly swung to the side into empty air. A miss Tara seemed to notice and grow all the more enraged by. Her assault doubled in energy whereas his waned. He needed to end things soon or else--

Camlaidh's heart lurched as the ground beneath their feet, now a trampled mixture of grass and mud due to their footsteps, gave way, and Camhlaidh's foot slipped in a patch of mud. The exhaustion caused the king of Seelie to fall to the muddy ground in a graceless heap, arms thrown upwards at the sight of Tara's sword glinting in the air to protect himself from whatever killing blow was no doubt coming.

Yet instead, no blow arrived. Camhlaidh slowly lowered his arms to find his sister standing above him, her sword poised downwards ready to strike true. All it would take was one final stab, and yet instead, his sister stared down at him, tears welling in her eyes and her face the picture of open, genuine hurt.

"How could you say that? How could you blame me for that? She was my mother too!"

"..."

"I remember her smile, her laughter, the feeling of her arms around me. When she died, I was hurting just as much as you and father were! I reached for you, but you were not there! You, the both of you, were so wrapped up in your own individual grief, as if each of you were the only ones who loved her." Tara's sword fell to the mud beside him, and his sister sank to her knees beside him as sobbing cries wracked her body. "I wanted my older brother for comfort, I needed him, but you were not there-- you were never there! Never! But no matter what vitriol you spew, you will not diminish what memories I have of our mother!"

"Tara..."

[arcxnumvitae]

Part 8

"--other. Brother!"

Through the rain pouring down around them, Tara's voice finally broke through. The hag's deal had been dealt, and their presence should now be masked from Iain Moireasdan's sight entirely. The next step was to return to the palace and....and then what?

"Brother!" Tara's hand around his wrist stopped Camhlaidh in his tracks, and a dull gaze turned to her.

"What."

"Are we not even going to speak on what we just learned?!" Tara's face twisted, beseeching. "Our mother--"

"Decided that our father's attention mattered more than her own family. What of it."

"You cannot be serious! You cannot act as if you do not care at all! Try as you might to act as if no heart beats in your chest--"

"And what do you care, Tara? Blackhearted as you are, you were so young when she died, you had no memories with her. What does her death matter to you? If anything, your very existence was the cause for her death. Her blood stains your hands."

Tara's eyes flashed, and she released her brother's wrist like she'd been burned by cold iron. Betrayed. "How dare you?!" Glowering, a shaking hand reached towards her waist and unsheathed her sword in one jagged movement to brandish at him. Camlaidh felt laughter bubble up at the sight.

"Yes, what is one more bout of treason added to the list after all? Fine then, you want your bout, sister?" Turning to face her, hiding the pain the movement caused his stomach injury, Camhlaidh's gaze leveled on her and the surrounding forest seemed to bend in an instant. The space seemed to stretch, and trees that had been only inches away from them now sat further.

A clearing had been created around them, and Camhlaidh summoned his sword. He couldn't care less in the moment if Iain could sense its use.

"After years of underhanded tricks and subterfuge, you are finally granted your chance to properly take my head, Tara Moireasdan." The blade of the ancient sword was pointed at her. For too many years had he allowed her to act unfettered. "Come then, since it seems our family is doomed to repeat its mistakes. My head, the throne, whatever it is you truly seek to sate this animosity of yours, it is yours-- if you can take it."

[arcxnumvitae]

Part 7

...The hag was correct-- the knowledge had been a cost.

[arcxnumvitae]

An all too familiar woman stepped into the clearing, a mixture of fear and determination on the fae's delicate features. Guinnein crossed the foot bridge, entering the hut, and stopped short at the hag waiting inside. Two cups of steaming tea sat on the table, and without another word, as if knowing what was expected of her, Guinnein slipped to the second chair and sat down upon it.

"What brings the Queen of Seelie to my humble abode?" The being's tone was not nearly as deferential as her words were. If anything, they seemed slightly amused, like an adult wondering why a child had suddenly appeared before them. Which, all things considered, likely wasn't very far off. She had heard of the being deep within Seelie with great power that made deals. She'd made it her mission to find them, but now that the queen sat there in that hut it seemed more as if the hag had allowed herself to be found.

Guinnein's slender hands curled around the tea cup, trying to seek comfort from its warmth. And yet there was no comfort to be found.

"I desire to bear more children."

"More?" The hag's imperceptible brow raised. "Do you not have the dear prince? That is already more than most."

"I-- yes, I have Camhlaidh, and he is a dear boy. There is nothing wrong with him, but--" Guinnein bit her lip. "It has already been several years, and I have yet to bear Oisean another. His Council's whispers to take on other lovers grow with each passing day. For the safety of Seelie the king must secure the line, and if I cannot bear him more children--" The woman shook her head, blonde locks flowing in a cascade with the movement. Finally, she whispered despairingly, "I cannot bear the thought of him in the arms of another." Nights spent in bed alone knowing her husband was bedding another. Would he look at them as endearingly as he did her? And if his seed were to take, if another babe of his were to be born with some other as their parent? A tie would forever exist between them. One without her. The duties of the crown were steep, she knew that, and yet...

"Please," Guinnein pleaded, "I will give whatever I must to ensure he stays mine forever."

"Those are dangerous words you speak, my darling." The hag cautioned the queen. A long finger traced along the edge of the teacup. "To create life-- to create the possibility of it, the price will be steep. Incredibly so."

Guinnein's eyes shone with desperation. "Anything."

"Half of your life."

The words sent a cold shock through her, and her lips parted. "What...?"

"What exists of your remaining lifespan, I will take half of it. In return, your womb will be fruitful, and you will bear your king what you desire."

Guinnein fell silent. The hag waited patiently as time stretched onwards, until...

"I--I accept."

Laughter shook the being's frame. "Little queen, you would doom your family to a life of grief solely to keep your husband's eyes on you?"

"G-grief is inevitable. Besides," a hand rested against her stomach. "They will have each other through it."

The hag watched her with a scrutinizing, and, out of nowhere, the being burst into uproarious laughter as if she had seen something highly amusing.

"What an interesting choice! What interesting choices that will lead from it! Fine then, little queen, you shall have your desire! You will bear, and your remaining years with your family will be mine as payment!

"The deal is set!"