The Fated Ball [Part Two] + [Penwell]
In which a story a thousand years old, finally comes to its conclusion...[takes place: September 29, 2021]
tw -- blood, violence, gore, death
@arthur-of-camelot
ZIRA: The gala erupted into chaos.
She had expected it to but it was no matter. The blur of her children collecting their fallen victims could be scene from her perch on the second story balcony landing. Hers had already been collected.
All except one. He was standing in the middle of the chaos, shoulder to shoulder with Arthur himself--shouting directions, trying to get people in order. It was, honestly, a bit unnerving how much he reminded her of Kay. Though, until that moment, she had all but forgotten about her brother. It had, after all, been a thousand years.
Through the shouting and the chaos of overturned tables, Zira made her way down the stairs, at her normal speed this time. She slunk right up behind Simba. He was tall, but she was stronger. Grabbing him by the shoulder, she forced him to his knees and drew her sword, pressing it to his neck in one fluid motion.
"Your Majesty," she called to Arthur above the chaos. "Drop your sword."
ARTHUR: Arthur had watched as one by one people started dropping like flies, and there was an anger that simmered that Arthur couldn't allow to overwhelm him. People needed him. His knights needed support. He could not allow himself to be distracted by it.
He instructed his knights to split up. Some to find cures for the people, some to get people out, some to fight. They had to do what they could with everyone disoriented and distracted.
He found his way over to Zira, Excalibur in his hand ready to take the vampire on. But of course, even now she was stooping to low tactics, using Simba as a shield. "Don't tell me even now you're too afraid to face me Zira? I thought you would at least give me the courtesy of not using others as a pawn here."
ZIRA: "Arthur, don't worry about me," Simba grunted.
"Oh, shut up," Zira said, rolling her eyes as Simba fruitlessly struggled against her, his long legs thrashing out. She ignored him, far too strong to even worry.
"He's not a pawn," Zira smiled and stroked the side of Simba's head with the back of her knuckles as she grinned at Arthur. "He is an extremely important part of the puzzle. With his death, the Lyons line will end. And so too will the charter that protects this town. You can't tell me you actually want to uphold that abhorrent document, do you, Arthur? When such innocent blood was spilt to make it?”
ARTHUR: "That document is the reason that so many magicks can have a safe haven." Arthur took a step toward them, Excalibur glistening. He glanced at her grip, determining when he could move to try to free Simba from it.
"Yet you cower behind him. If you were unconcerned about me, you wouldn't feel the need to hold someone before you like this. Isn't that right?" Arthur pointed his sword at her. "Will you face me and make this ridiculous fight end between us? Once and for all?"
ZIRA: Zira scoffed.
"That charter is the reason my daughter is dead. This fight isn't about you, Arthur. Though, I am not surprised you think that. This fight is to undo an injustice that was done years ago. Why should I fight you on a fair field? I already have everything I need. One twitch of my arm, and this boy dies. Along with all of my suffering. I could crush you both with one clench of my fist. You are no threat to me."
That may be true, but there were far more of these so-called knights than she had anticipated. All around them, they were keeping her children occupied. All the safe guards she had set up could not prepare her for the sheer amount of them.
Zira would not be intimidated, however. This was her show.
ARTHUR: "And for that injustice you're willing to doom everyone else around you? How is that right? You know if I'd known that was the cost I would have chosen differently." Arthur would never willingly have let an innocent die for something like that.
But Arthur refused to let her continue to win. He was going to stop her. He had to. So Arthur did two things at once: he tossed some salt to try to be able to contain the space where Zira might be, and he swung Excalibur at Zira's arm, trying to disconnect her from Simba as quickly as possible.
"Simba get out of here."
ZIRA: Arthur's words meant little to her. After a thousand years, they bounced off her like nothing. It was too late. Her mind was already made up. She had told herself the story and that as all that mattered. Nothing else could. She had come too far. Done too much. There were fifteen people, poisoned, slowly dying and hundreds of others strewn across the centuries. All leading up to this moment. She could not waver.
When Arthur lunged, Zira turned on instinct, bringing Simba with her, but her actions were much slower than usual, as if she had weights attached to her limbs. She felt the sharp cut of Excalibur against her arm and jerked before letting go on instinct.
Simba let out a shout and collapsed forward, catching himself on one hand and scrambling away.
"No!" Zira shouted and lunged for him, but her foot it the thing white line that encircled herself and Arthur. She snarled as she turned and looked at him, but when she did, she smiled and then laughed, her own dagger flashing in the light as she raised it.
"You think your little sword can take me out? Pathetic." She lunged, but she was still sluggish, the salt sapping her strength. The wound on her arm did not bleed, but it also did not heal. What did that mean? Zira could not think of that. She had to stay focused.
She was so close.
ARTHUR: Arthur couldn't help but smirk. She had underestimated him. It was certainly not the first time she'd done it, but this time Arthur was going to use it to his advantage and bring her down. He had already managed to get Simba away from her and cut her with Excalibur. This was good. This meant he could cause some harm to her. He could do this.
"Do you have any idea of Excalibur's power?" Arthur asked with a laugh, dodging her linge and swinging at her with his sword again, attempting to get at her neck. "You've miscalculated. And it will be your undoing.”
ZIRA: Zira grit her jaw but then she smiled again as she swept under Arthur's second swing. Even though she did not have her vampire speed, she still had a thousand years of combat to her name. Arthur had died on a battleground a thousand years ago. When it came to fighting, she was confident still in her skills.
"You keep saying that," Zira snarled as she swiped at Arthur's ribs with her dagger. She tried to ignore the sting of the wound on her arm, but it alarmed her. Zira hadn't felt true pain in a thousand years. If she had a heart that beat, it would be going rapid fire, but it was calm and still as it had always been in her chest. At this point, Zira wasn't even sure she had a heart. It had rotted long ago.
"I haven't lost yet." She lunged forward herself this time, intending to catch him off balance.
ARTHUR: "I keep saying that, and I'm right." Arthur twisted to the side to avoid getting caught by her dagger. Everyone else around him faded to the background as he recalled his lessons in fighting, and all the practice he had had since he'd arrived in Swynlake.
Zira lunged forward, and Arthur saw an opportunity there, trying to move to the side and stab with his sword all at once. If he could hit her, if he could pierce her with Excalibur...maybe it would be enough. Maybe Excalibur could bring her down if he got her in the chest.
He stabbed forward, praying that his sword would be guided to where it needed to be.
ZIRA: At the last moment, Zira realized her mistakes.
No, not all the ones that came before. How she had let cruelty, fear, and revenge guide her actions up until this point. That she could find no regrets for. Her only regret was her overconfidence in this moment, having over-calculated her lunge. She was not used to having to be so precise. It had been a long time since she had been worried in a fight, had actually had to fight. She had spent too long not caring about blades that pierced her skin. It had never hurt.
But as Excalibur slid between her ribs, she felt it. It burned, hot and sharp.
Zira let out a breath. A breath she didn't know she had. One that she must have been holding for a thousand years. When her mouth opened, blood dribbled from her lips, eyes wide in shock. The pain radiated down her arms and into her legs. For a moment, everything paused. She stood there and looked only at Arthur.
At the man, but saw the boy he had once been. Courting her sister. Playing in the yard with her brother. Once, she had loved him.
They were close enough that it looked as if they could be embracing.
Zira thrust her dagger into his chest without a word.
It took the rest of her energy. When she stumbled back, Arthur's sword was red with her blood. Excalibur, red with her blood. It had been a long time since she had seen it. For a moment, she felt alive. Bleeding, in pain.
Zira had never expected to die. After a thousand years, you stop worrying about such things. So, she had never prepared for it, or thought about what she might want to remember, in those last moments.
It was not her Nuka, nor her Vitani--so valiant and true soldiers--that she thought about. Nor was it Merlin, Arthur himself, or her brother or sister. It was not her children. It was not her old life or the way the trees used to whisper to her.
It was not her sons. It was not her daughter, Nyah.
What she thought about, instead, was one simple, final question: did I succeed?
As that thought echoed through her mind, Zira crumpled to the ground. The light leaving her eyes.
Her final question was answered moments later as the bowl in which all the burned ingredients and the blood combined began to burn quite on its own--the charter, which they had stolen from Town Hall, began to burn as well. The smoke rose up through the room, growing thicker and blacker until it covered the entire manor and then began to spread, its tendrils racing toward every corner of Swynlake...
