A Balance of Dragons - Chapters 1 & 2
So I posted the next part of A Balance of dragons on AO3 and decided I would also post chapters here for anyone who prefers to read it on LJ.
A Balance of Dragons
Summary:
In a world where the influence of the New Religion was blamed for Ygraine's death, magic is something quite different in Camelot. But some things remain the same: Uther is still bitter; Nimueh is still plotting; and the Great Dragon still crouches beneath the castle.
Chapter 1: Prologue: Of Dragons and Bargains
The two guards posted at the entrance to the tunnels under the castle stood straighter as the they heard the footsteps echoing down the stone stairs. If they had thought to challenge the one approaching, however, they immediately abandoned that idea when they saw the scowling woman who emerged from the stairway.
Her black hair did not reflect the light from the torches, and her skin glowed a pristine white that was almost the same shade as her gown. Only the shape of her mouth marred the image of pure beauty. Her mouth was pressed in a thin red line, with no softness or give to it.
The men should have challenged her. They were under strict order to challenge anyone who tried to access the deeps beneath Camelot, but since the orders came from this very lady, and she looked in no mood to answer their questions, the guards agreed with just a glance between them that it was the better choice not to speak to her at all. Instead, they opened the door and bowed as she swept by. They both pretended not to notice how the torches guttered in her wake, nor did they comment on how they each broke out in a cold sweat as they waited for this woman, their commander in all but name, to pass out of sight.
It was a relief when she ignored them, continuing down the tunnel without a word, and they were able to shut the door behind her and resumed their posts.
***
Nimueh strode out onto the ledge of the grotto that looked out over the underground cavern and flung her words out before her.
“Where is he?”
There was a rush of wind before the old one appeared and settled on the rocky perch across from her.
Bronze scales glinted the half light of the luminous lichen that grew here in the deeps. Glowing eyes focused on her as the dragon made himself comfortable.
“Where is who?” The dragon gave her back a question as he furled his wings and snaked his massive hear towards her. He blinked as if she had just woken him from a nap.
“Do not toy with me, Kilgarrah! Where is Arthur?”
“Hmmm. Is he not in your- Ah, I beg your pardon- Uther’s castle awaiting his punishment for whatever slight it was that he gave at last night’s feast?” Kilgarrah flashed his teeth and curled his lip. No one would have called it a smile.
“You know very well he is gone. Now tell me where, and who aided him in his attempt to escape.” Nimueh’s normally cool, pale face flushed, and her eyes narrowed as they began to glow. “We have a bargain, Dragon!”
Power echoed in her words, but the great dragon delicately picked up his left foot and began cleaning his claws with his teeth.
Nimueh took a half step back, eyes wide with shock.
The dragon paused in his grooming and cocked his head, as if just recalling something. “Oh, yes. We did have a bargain, didn’t we? And yet I feel no obligation to you now.” He snaked his head back to look at Nimueh, and gave her another not-smile. “Have you been busy, Little Witch?”
“I have done nothing to void our agreement. Neither I nor my court have harmed you or any other dragon,” Nimueh stepped up to the edge of the precipice. “Would you break a bargain with the Lady of the Isle and bring down the wrath of the Old Religion on you and all of yours, Kilgarrah? What will your kin think of you as they lay dying when I spill my cup?”
“Your court, is it?” the dragon laughed, “I thought it was still Uther’s court, for at least a while yet. And how shall the tipping of your cup affect myself or my brethren. The cup of life and death is, by its very nature, a mortal thing. Dragons are of the wild magic and cannot be held in your tiny cup.”
“By our bargain-“ Nimueh began holding her hands out to start a rite of balance.
Drawing back and spreading his wings Kilgarrah roared to the cavern top, “THERE IS NO BARGAIN!”
In the silence that followed his outburst the dragon settled himself on his rocky outcrop once more. In an almost conversational tone, he continued, “Only you, or a member of the court, would be able to say exactly why, but the bargain has been voided. Whether by you or another included in your vow, it matters not. Balance must be maintained.”
Nimueh had to make an effort to draw herself up and meet Kilgarrah’s eyes. Her hands flexed as if still seeking some power that had failed to appear.
“Even without the bargain I think we have an understanding. I assure you I have not harmed any dragon, and I will find the one that did and punish him.”
“You have been dealing with your petty human politics for too long, Little Witch. Magical bargains do not rely on understanding, but on exacting terms, and the terms of our bargain have been broken: You or yours have killed one of my kin, and so our binding is but smoke on the wind.” The dragon raised his claws again, as if to return to grooming, but slid his eyes sideways to watch Nimueh’s growing rage. Finally he said in a casual tone, “Should you wish to bargain anew, perhaps you should call a dragon lord to attend us.”
Nimueh’s jaw clenched. “If you insist,” she conceded. “But they have mostly traveled far from Albion since their skills were not needed in a land where you held a bargain with the crown. It may take some time to locate one. Until then, I bid you stay in Camelot and provide what counsel you may.”
The dragon snorted. “I do not do your bidding, Little Witch. I thought we had just established that.”
“Perhaps not willingly, but you will stay, Kilgarrah. I will make it so.” She flung out her right hand and light leapt from her fingers. The dragon flung himself off his perch but the light followed him, forming a loop around his right rear leg.
The light solidified into a chain, heavy links that tightened around the dragon’s leg on one end, and sunk into the stone wall of the cave on the other.
“You DARE?” Roared the dragon.
Nimueh laughed. “I am Camelot. I do not fear you, Lizard. The other dragons will do my bidding or die, whether by the bargain, by my own hand, or by Uther’s spears, it matters little to me. And now it matters little to you, as you will be here, unable to do anything about it.”
Kilgarrah roared and launched himself at Nimueh, and when the chain was too short to get to her, he bellowed out a blast fire hot enough to melt the flesh from her bones. She raised her hands and a shield sprang up in front of her. It glowed white hot under the assault of magical flame.
Finally, the dragon settled back on the little rock, flame and anger both banked for the moment.
Nimueh slowly lowered her arms and let the shield fade. “I will find Arthur, with or without your help. Camelot will be mine: Body, Soul, and Crown.”
She turned and walked away. Kilgarrah waited for her to round the first bend in the tunnel, taking her light out of sight, before he settled again on top of his rocky perch and began to groom his claws, eyes narrowed and lips curled to show his teeth.
Chapter 2: Crying in the Countryside, Whispers in the King's Ear
Summary:
More than three years after Arthur's disappearance, and what has Nimueh wrought?
The great hall was bright with morning sun as King Uther and Nimueh sat to hear the concerns, complaints, and requests of Camelot’s people. Nimueh relaxed back into the green and gold cushions that she had ordered placed on the throne that had once belonged to Arthur. It was smaller than Uther’s, placed to his right and slightly behind the king, but she doubted the prince would recognize it if he saw it now, after his three year absence, and certainly not if he sat in it. She did not smirk at the thought. Nimueh had total control of her expression and did not need an uncomfortable throne to keep her on her mettle and focused on her task. She was not a callow youth just learning the art of ruling.
Nor was she an old man soon to enter his dotage. Nimueh’s glance slid to Uther, hunched forward in his seat, chin in hand, as he glared out at the assembled court. Sun glittered off the jewels of nobles and the swords of the knights, and glared off the white robes of her acolytes standing at the back and along the walls. For all the brilliance of the hall, however, the atmosphere was cold and tense as a knight, newly arrived from the border, stood before the king.
“What news, Sir Leon?” Uther asked, sharp eyes taking in everything about the knight’s appearance. Nimueh was amused to see the king’s annoyance at the anticipation of bad news.
Sir Leon was taller than average, but his usual proud visage was marred by soot, rents in his cape, and blood stains on his armour. He had the look of a man who had ridden hard for hours, but he stood without sway before his king and gave his report.
“The southern and eastern border towns were hardest hit, My Liege,” reported Sir Leon. “It was a full flight of five great dragons, as well as several wyverns. They split between Wyth, Elsmere, and Bannoor to the east, then re-grouped and hit Falmouth, Tyndal, Meath, and Tyr-Na-Fail. We met them at Meath, but were not able to completely stop the attack.”
The young knight kept his face relaxed, and his eyes down, but Nimueh could see the tension in his back that meant he knew the danger of bringing such news to Uther.
“Culwch’s fief lies near Elsmere, does it not?” the King asked.
“It did, My Lord, before it burned these three years gone.” Leon answered, so short that Nimueh thought it just skirted rudeness.
Nimueh nudged at Uther’s anger, thinking to push him into punishing the knight, but his thoughts went in a different direction.
“So, the ruffian I once called son has struck again. How many of his beasts did our knights kill?” Uther growled.
Nimueh almost laughed. Uther’s suspicious nature meant that she did not even have to suggest attacks might be Arthur’s fault. He dreamed it up on his own. Still, she would have to find a better way to undermine Leon.
Sir Leon’s jaw tightened, but he took a deep breath and said nothing about the King’s accusation against Arthur. Instead, after the brief pause, he gave his emotionless report. “Two wyvern, My Lord, killed by Caradoc and Owain. As well as one of the great dragons injured badly enough by the knights and spear troops that the beast had to withdraw.”
Uther frowned and there were whispers running through the audience. “And you did not pursue the traitorous creature?”
Nimueh kept her face placid and reasonable as Sir Leon noticeably braced himself for his monarch’s displeasure. The courtiers seemed to be holding their breath, but she could see eyes flickering between the knight and King Uther, as the nobles waited to see if the king would fly into one of the rages for which he was so well known.
“I gave the order to stand firm at Meath, Sire.” Sir Leon looked intent upon shouldering any blame that might fall on the knights of his troupe. “I deemed our losses severe enough that if we split our forces we ran the risk of losing Meath’s grain stores to fire. I made the judgement that saving the grain must take precedence over hunting down the dragon.”
Nimueh felt a flash of irritation at the man’s level headed handling of the situation, but she was careful not to let it show on her face. Uther’s rage at Arthur’s betrayal and his supposed use of the dragons to attack sites within the kingdom these past two years should have whipped the knights into a similar frenzy - or at least a show of such in order to gain stature in their king’s eyes. Grain for peasants should not have dissuaded them from pursuing revenge for their lord’s honor and for the damage done to the kingdom. She kept her face calm as she fingered the gold amulet around her neck, and sent a sliver of anger into Uther’s mind.
“And did you not judge that if you had but killed the beast you might save more grain and more lives in the future? Or perhaps follow it back to its master?” Uther hissed and spittle flew from his lips, as his face grew red.
Leon dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. “I considered it, my liege, but we had lost Sir Nestor, and had six more wounded. I sought to the save the strength of your kingdom rather than waste the few healthy men in a pursuit that might have bought us nothing but more deaths. If I was in error, my lord, then I shall take whatever punishment you see fit.”
Nestor. That was unfortunate, Nimueh thought. He had been loyal to her. Would that it had been young Percival, or Leon himself, with their poorly hidden loyalties to the lost prince. But no matter. Nestor would be easy to replace, and if Leon would not be killed by the dragons, perhaps she could find another death for him.
“Indeed,” Uther drew a deep breath, and Nimueh felt how his mind fluttered under her restraining magic. His thoughts twisted and slipped their leash for a moment. “You have our trust, Sir Leon. It is never wise to second guess a commander in the field, no matter how disappointing the result.” Uther glanced over at Nimueh, sitting at his right hand, and she sent a tendril of her magic across his eyes. His mouth hardened. “But now, we must double patrols, and find their nests. Our priestess will provide you with possible areas in which to search.”
She bowed her head and smiled. “Of course, My King.” Her voice filled with unfeigned emotion. Uther was very much her king, after all. It amused her that others interpreted what they heard as devotion, rather than the possessiveness that governed all her actions. He was her king, her puppet, to do with as she would. And she would have the dragons who had betrayed her destroyed, no matter how many knights it cost her.
For now, Sir Leon rose from his knees, clearly relieved, and bowed low to Uther before taking his leave. Nimueh watched him go and considered how she might rid herself of him, or if she should wait and see if the dragons yet solved the problem for her. Really, having the beasts in rebellion was almost as good as having them under her direct control.
After that there were the routine reports of harvests and tax revenues. Nimueh kept half an ear on it, figuring that anything she missed, Uther would take care of. He really was quite convenient to have around for those sorts of tasks.
They were coming to the end of the petitioners when there was a disturbance at the doors to the hall.
“Make way! Make way!” came the deep voice of the captain of the guard. All conversation stopped as the man pushed through the nobles and dropped to one knee before the king. Head bowed he waited to be recognized.
“What is the meaning of this interruption, Captain Arliss?” Uther spoke at a volume all the court would hear, and the captain answered in the same way.
“My Liege, I bring news of the capture of one of the practitioners of the new religion!”
“And you interrupt the king’s petitioners for this?” Nimueh asked with an arched brow. “Let the deceived fool rot in the dungeons.”
“He is not a simple follower, Milady,” the guard explained. “It’s one of the Priests! He was conducting the rites, Milady!”
This was unexpected.
“Take him to the lower dungeons for questioning,” Uther said. “I shall be there shortly to supervise.”
“Yes, Sire,” the captain answered.
“And notify the executioner.” Uther added, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand. The man bowed and backed away into the crowd of courtiers. Finally, he turned and strode from the hall to carry out the king’s orders.
Once the court was dismissed, Nimueh rose to take her leave and Uther pressed his palm to her arm to hold her a moment. She let him.
“I assume you will have acolytes to attend the priest’s punishment.” Uther said.
“Of course, My King. It will be their honor to collect what may be sacrificed to the good of the land.” She smiled. “And now if you will excuse me I will scry what I may of the dragons’ plans.” She nodded, and swept away. She left without a bow or further acknowledgment, and Uther simply smiled and went on his way.
He was a simple man, Nimueh thought, happy to have a focus for his obsessive hatred and feelings of betrayal. After all, the new religion had taken his wife, hadn’t it? And then proceeded to poison his son against him. From these root evils had come the petitioning of the dragons and their following rebellion against the truce. And it was all the fault of the priests’ sweet talk of miracles and redemption.
Nimueh fingered her amulet and sent a trail of misty memories that would enforce this idea for the king. Then she considered who to send to collect the Priest’s blood at the beheading. There was the new boy working in the gardens. Nimueh pursed her lips.
No. He was too new to his post, too raw. He needed to steep in the majesty of Camelot’s magic a bit longer before he would be ready for execution detail.
She smiled as she went to her chambers to scry. The new religion was so convenient a focus for the king, she would have had to invent it if it had not come along at just the right time.
Trigger Warnings::
This story will contain scenes of violence slightly more extreme than in canon. There will be a brief scene in which a woman is roughly handled and there are implied threats of rape. There will also be a scene in which a woman manipulates a much younger man into having sex. Eventually there will be sex between men which may also involve some manipulation and/or coercion. These scenes are important to the story, but they are not the central point of the story. If you feel these scenes might upset you, please skip reading the story.
A Balance of Dragons
Summary:
In a world where the influence of the New Religion was blamed for Ygraine's death, magic is something quite different in Camelot. But some things remain the same: Uther is still bitter; Nimueh is still plotting; and the Great Dragon still crouches beneath the castle.
Chapter 1: Prologue: Of Dragons and Bargains
The two guards posted at the entrance to the tunnels under the castle stood straighter as the they heard the footsteps echoing down the stone stairs. If they had thought to challenge the one approaching, however, they immediately abandoned that idea when they saw the scowling woman who emerged from the stairway.
Her black hair did not reflect the light from the torches, and her skin glowed a pristine white that was almost the same shade as her gown. Only the shape of her mouth marred the image of pure beauty. Her mouth was pressed in a thin red line, with no softness or give to it.
The men should have challenged her. They were under strict order to challenge anyone who tried to access the deeps beneath Camelot, but since the orders came from this very lady, and she looked in no mood to answer their questions, the guards agreed with just a glance between them that it was the better choice not to speak to her at all. Instead, they opened the door and bowed as she swept by. They both pretended not to notice how the torches guttered in her wake, nor did they comment on how they each broke out in a cold sweat as they waited for this woman, their commander in all but name, to pass out of sight.
It was a relief when she ignored them, continuing down the tunnel without a word, and they were able to shut the door behind her and resumed their posts.
***
Nimueh strode out onto the ledge of the grotto that looked out over the underground cavern and flung her words out before her.
“Where is he?”
There was a rush of wind before the old one appeared and settled on the rocky perch across from her.
Bronze scales glinted the half light of the luminous lichen that grew here in the deeps. Glowing eyes focused on her as the dragon made himself comfortable.
“Where is who?” The dragon gave her back a question as he furled his wings and snaked his massive hear towards her. He blinked as if she had just woken him from a nap.
“Do not toy with me, Kilgarrah! Where is Arthur?”
“Hmmm. Is he not in your- Ah, I beg your pardon- Uther’s castle awaiting his punishment for whatever slight it was that he gave at last night’s feast?” Kilgarrah flashed his teeth and curled his lip. No one would have called it a smile.
“You know very well he is gone. Now tell me where, and who aided him in his attempt to escape.” Nimueh’s normally cool, pale face flushed, and her eyes narrowed as they began to glow. “We have a bargain, Dragon!”
Power echoed in her words, but the great dragon delicately picked up his left foot and began cleaning his claws with his teeth.
Nimueh took a half step back, eyes wide with shock.
The dragon paused in his grooming and cocked his head, as if just recalling something. “Oh, yes. We did have a bargain, didn’t we? And yet I feel no obligation to you now.” He snaked his head back to look at Nimueh, and gave her another not-smile. “Have you been busy, Little Witch?”
“I have done nothing to void our agreement. Neither I nor my court have harmed you or any other dragon,” Nimueh stepped up to the edge of the precipice. “Would you break a bargain with the Lady of the Isle and bring down the wrath of the Old Religion on you and all of yours, Kilgarrah? What will your kin think of you as they lay dying when I spill my cup?”
“Your court, is it?” the dragon laughed, “I thought it was still Uther’s court, for at least a while yet. And how shall the tipping of your cup affect myself or my brethren. The cup of life and death is, by its very nature, a mortal thing. Dragons are of the wild magic and cannot be held in your tiny cup.”
“By our bargain-“ Nimueh began holding her hands out to start a rite of balance.
Drawing back and spreading his wings Kilgarrah roared to the cavern top, “THERE IS NO BARGAIN!”
In the silence that followed his outburst the dragon settled himself on his rocky outcrop once more. In an almost conversational tone, he continued, “Only you, or a member of the court, would be able to say exactly why, but the bargain has been voided. Whether by you or another included in your vow, it matters not. Balance must be maintained.”
Nimueh had to make an effort to draw herself up and meet Kilgarrah’s eyes. Her hands flexed as if still seeking some power that had failed to appear.
“Even without the bargain I think we have an understanding. I assure you I have not harmed any dragon, and I will find the one that did and punish him.”
“You have been dealing with your petty human politics for too long, Little Witch. Magical bargains do not rely on understanding, but on exacting terms, and the terms of our bargain have been broken: You or yours have killed one of my kin, and so our binding is but smoke on the wind.” The dragon raised his claws again, as if to return to grooming, but slid his eyes sideways to watch Nimueh’s growing rage. Finally he said in a casual tone, “Should you wish to bargain anew, perhaps you should call a dragon lord to attend us.”
Nimueh’s jaw clenched. “If you insist,” she conceded. “But they have mostly traveled far from Albion since their skills were not needed in a land where you held a bargain with the crown. It may take some time to locate one. Until then, I bid you stay in Camelot and provide what counsel you may.”
The dragon snorted. “I do not do your bidding, Little Witch. I thought we had just established that.”
“Perhaps not willingly, but you will stay, Kilgarrah. I will make it so.” She flung out her right hand and light leapt from her fingers. The dragon flung himself off his perch but the light followed him, forming a loop around his right rear leg.
The light solidified into a chain, heavy links that tightened around the dragon’s leg on one end, and sunk into the stone wall of the cave on the other.
“You DARE?” Roared the dragon.
Nimueh laughed. “I am Camelot. I do not fear you, Lizard. The other dragons will do my bidding or die, whether by the bargain, by my own hand, or by Uther’s spears, it matters little to me. And now it matters little to you, as you will be here, unable to do anything about it.”
Kilgarrah roared and launched himself at Nimueh, and when the chain was too short to get to her, he bellowed out a blast fire hot enough to melt the flesh from her bones. She raised her hands and a shield sprang up in front of her. It glowed white hot under the assault of magical flame.
Finally, the dragon settled back on the little rock, flame and anger both banked for the moment.
Nimueh slowly lowered her arms and let the shield fade. “I will find Arthur, with or without your help. Camelot will be mine: Body, Soul, and Crown.”
She turned and walked away. Kilgarrah waited for her to round the first bend in the tunnel, taking her light out of sight, before he settled again on top of his rocky perch and began to groom his claws, eyes narrowed and lips curled to show his teeth.
Chapter 2: Crying in the Countryside, Whispers in the King's Ear
Summary:
More than three years after Arthur's disappearance, and what has Nimueh wrought?
The great hall was bright with morning sun as King Uther and Nimueh sat to hear the concerns, complaints, and requests of Camelot’s people. Nimueh relaxed back into the green and gold cushions that she had ordered placed on the throne that had once belonged to Arthur. It was smaller than Uther’s, placed to his right and slightly behind the king, but she doubted the prince would recognize it if he saw it now, after his three year absence, and certainly not if he sat in it. She did not smirk at the thought. Nimueh had total control of her expression and did not need an uncomfortable throne to keep her on her mettle and focused on her task. She was not a callow youth just learning the art of ruling.
Nor was she an old man soon to enter his dotage. Nimueh’s glance slid to Uther, hunched forward in his seat, chin in hand, as he glared out at the assembled court. Sun glittered off the jewels of nobles and the swords of the knights, and glared off the white robes of her acolytes standing at the back and along the walls. For all the brilliance of the hall, however, the atmosphere was cold and tense as a knight, newly arrived from the border, stood before the king.
“What news, Sir Leon?” Uther asked, sharp eyes taking in everything about the knight’s appearance. Nimueh was amused to see the king’s annoyance at the anticipation of bad news.
Sir Leon was taller than average, but his usual proud visage was marred by soot, rents in his cape, and blood stains on his armour. He had the look of a man who had ridden hard for hours, but he stood without sway before his king and gave his report.
“The southern and eastern border towns were hardest hit, My Liege,” reported Sir Leon. “It was a full flight of five great dragons, as well as several wyverns. They split between Wyth, Elsmere, and Bannoor to the east, then re-grouped and hit Falmouth, Tyndal, Meath, and Tyr-Na-Fail. We met them at Meath, but were not able to completely stop the attack.”
The young knight kept his face relaxed, and his eyes down, but Nimueh could see the tension in his back that meant he knew the danger of bringing such news to Uther.
“Culwch’s fief lies near Elsmere, does it not?” the King asked.
“It did, My Lord, before it burned these three years gone.” Leon answered, so short that Nimueh thought it just skirted rudeness.
Nimueh nudged at Uther’s anger, thinking to push him into punishing the knight, but his thoughts went in a different direction.
“So, the ruffian I once called son has struck again. How many of his beasts did our knights kill?” Uther growled.
Nimueh almost laughed. Uther’s suspicious nature meant that she did not even have to suggest attacks might be Arthur’s fault. He dreamed it up on his own. Still, she would have to find a better way to undermine Leon.
Sir Leon’s jaw tightened, but he took a deep breath and said nothing about the King’s accusation against Arthur. Instead, after the brief pause, he gave his emotionless report. “Two wyvern, My Lord, killed by Caradoc and Owain. As well as one of the great dragons injured badly enough by the knights and spear troops that the beast had to withdraw.”
Uther frowned and there were whispers running through the audience. “And you did not pursue the traitorous creature?”
Nimueh kept her face placid and reasonable as Sir Leon noticeably braced himself for his monarch’s displeasure. The courtiers seemed to be holding their breath, but she could see eyes flickering between the knight and King Uther, as the nobles waited to see if the king would fly into one of the rages for which he was so well known.
“I gave the order to stand firm at Meath, Sire.” Sir Leon looked intent upon shouldering any blame that might fall on the knights of his troupe. “I deemed our losses severe enough that if we split our forces we ran the risk of losing Meath’s grain stores to fire. I made the judgement that saving the grain must take precedence over hunting down the dragon.”
Nimueh felt a flash of irritation at the man’s level headed handling of the situation, but she was careful not to let it show on her face. Uther’s rage at Arthur’s betrayal and his supposed use of the dragons to attack sites within the kingdom these past two years should have whipped the knights into a similar frenzy - or at least a show of such in order to gain stature in their king’s eyes. Grain for peasants should not have dissuaded them from pursuing revenge for their lord’s honor and for the damage done to the kingdom. She kept her face calm as she fingered the gold amulet around her neck, and sent a sliver of anger into Uther’s mind.
“And did you not judge that if you had but killed the beast you might save more grain and more lives in the future? Or perhaps follow it back to its master?” Uther hissed and spittle flew from his lips, as his face grew red.
Leon dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. “I considered it, my liege, but we had lost Sir Nestor, and had six more wounded. I sought to the save the strength of your kingdom rather than waste the few healthy men in a pursuit that might have bought us nothing but more deaths. If I was in error, my lord, then I shall take whatever punishment you see fit.”
Nestor. That was unfortunate, Nimueh thought. He had been loyal to her. Would that it had been young Percival, or Leon himself, with their poorly hidden loyalties to the lost prince. But no matter. Nestor would be easy to replace, and if Leon would not be killed by the dragons, perhaps she could find another death for him.
“Indeed,” Uther drew a deep breath, and Nimueh felt how his mind fluttered under her restraining magic. His thoughts twisted and slipped their leash for a moment. “You have our trust, Sir Leon. It is never wise to second guess a commander in the field, no matter how disappointing the result.” Uther glanced over at Nimueh, sitting at his right hand, and she sent a tendril of her magic across his eyes. His mouth hardened. “But now, we must double patrols, and find their nests. Our priestess will provide you with possible areas in which to search.”
She bowed her head and smiled. “Of course, My King.” Her voice filled with unfeigned emotion. Uther was very much her king, after all. It amused her that others interpreted what they heard as devotion, rather than the possessiveness that governed all her actions. He was her king, her puppet, to do with as she would. And she would have the dragons who had betrayed her destroyed, no matter how many knights it cost her.
For now, Sir Leon rose from his knees, clearly relieved, and bowed low to Uther before taking his leave. Nimueh watched him go and considered how she might rid herself of him, or if she should wait and see if the dragons yet solved the problem for her. Really, having the beasts in rebellion was almost as good as having them under her direct control.
After that there were the routine reports of harvests and tax revenues. Nimueh kept half an ear on it, figuring that anything she missed, Uther would take care of. He really was quite convenient to have around for those sorts of tasks.
They were coming to the end of the petitioners when there was a disturbance at the doors to the hall.
“Make way! Make way!” came the deep voice of the captain of the guard. All conversation stopped as the man pushed through the nobles and dropped to one knee before the king. Head bowed he waited to be recognized.
“What is the meaning of this interruption, Captain Arliss?” Uther spoke at a volume all the court would hear, and the captain answered in the same way.
“My Liege, I bring news of the capture of one of the practitioners of the new religion!”
“And you interrupt the king’s petitioners for this?” Nimueh asked with an arched brow. “Let the deceived fool rot in the dungeons.”
“He is not a simple follower, Milady,” the guard explained. “It’s one of the Priests! He was conducting the rites, Milady!”
This was unexpected.
“Take him to the lower dungeons for questioning,” Uther said. “I shall be there shortly to supervise.”
“Yes, Sire,” the captain answered.
“And notify the executioner.” Uther added, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand. The man bowed and backed away into the crowd of courtiers. Finally, he turned and strode from the hall to carry out the king’s orders.
Once the court was dismissed, Nimueh rose to take her leave and Uther pressed his palm to her arm to hold her a moment. She let him.
“I assume you will have acolytes to attend the priest’s punishment.” Uther said.
“Of course, My King. It will be their honor to collect what may be sacrificed to the good of the land.” She smiled. “And now if you will excuse me I will scry what I may of the dragons’ plans.” She nodded, and swept away. She left without a bow or further acknowledgment, and Uther simply smiled and went on his way.
He was a simple man, Nimueh thought, happy to have a focus for his obsessive hatred and feelings of betrayal. After all, the new religion had taken his wife, hadn’t it? And then proceeded to poison his son against him. From these root evils had come the petitioning of the dragons and their following rebellion against the truce. And it was all the fault of the priests’ sweet talk of miracles and redemption.
Nimueh fingered her amulet and sent a trail of misty memories that would enforce this idea for the king. Then she considered who to send to collect the Priest’s blood at the beheading. There was the new boy working in the gardens. Nimueh pursed her lips.
No. He was too new to his post, too raw. He needed to steep in the majesty of Camelot’s magic a bit longer before he would be ready for execution detail.
She smiled as she went to her chambers to scry. The new religion was so convenient a focus for the king, she would have had to invent it if it had not come along at just the right time.
Trigger Warnings::
This story will contain scenes of violence slightly more extreme than in canon. There will be a brief scene in which a woman is roughly handled and there are implied threats of rape. There will also be a scene in which a woman manipulates a much younger man into having sex. Eventually there will be sex between men which may also involve some manipulation and/or coercion. These scenes are important to the story, but they are not the central point of the story. If you feel these scenes might upset you, please skip reading the story.