by Billy Wong
"My brother sought madly to save me but to no avail, his every attempt thwarted by Byron's wicked cunning. I'm still amazed I survived in the midst of all that bloodshed. Fortune must have favored me. But as the war continued, I grew to befriend a young Celt named Briegan who tried to teach me how to defend myself, how to fight. And though I never gained much in the way of skill, one day I slew a knight from behind. He had been engaged with Briegan at the time, and I feared for my friend's life.
"It turned out that the knight, one Sir Cai, had been a close friend of my brother's. Assuming Briegan had done the deed, Arthur sought to fight him even above freeing me, as if he had forgotten me in his hatred. Inevitably, he finally caught Briegan, and though I tried to stop him, I only got Excalibur in my chest for my efforts. Arthur made short work of Briegan and gutted him, and I will never forget how he spent his last moments crawling towards me, trying to save me.
"I thought then that it was all over, whether I died on the battlefield or was saved at my brother's hand, I would at least escape the daily terror of war. But when Arthur turned to me after Briegan's fall, his eyes were full of demonic rage, and I felt my heart freeze in terror of his gaze. I do not think he recognized me in his battle-rage, with my face covered in blood and dirt as it was. At least that is what I hope, for otherwise this tale would be even more dreadful than it is.
"Realizing I, a female enemy as he simply thought me, was still alive, he began to... to undress me. I begged him to stop, tried to tell him who I was. But he did not hear me, and violated me as if in celebration of his final victory. And sure enough, his forces won the war that day, though the battles continued for years afterward. As for me, I somehow survived my awful wound, and months later found out I was pregnant. I wandered the woods seeking death, but the faeries took pity on me and brought me here, where I've been living ever since."
Mildy believed it all; the profound sadness of Morgan's eyes and voice could not have been faked. She tried to console her mother. "At least he didn't know it was you. Though raping anybody's bad enough." She would rather not have known her famously virtuous father capable of such a thing.
Morgan shuddered. "I suppose so, but it hardly lessens my pain. Can you imagine if your brother raped you?"
She shook her head. "Did he ever figure out it was you?"
"I don't think so. He'd forgotten me somewhere down the line, and I think in the end, he simply decided I must be dead and let my memory fade away."
"But your memory hasn't faded away. You're one of the great legends now—the greatest of Arthur's enemies at the dawn of his kingdom, the warrior who gave him his closest match."
"That's a ways from accurate, but I suppose if Arthur endorses these stories, it is just another way for him to forget me. By falsifying my life, he pushes away the truth of his failure to save me. And I am sure such a fanciful legend like that you describe would make for good publicity."
The tragic tale pained Mildy, and she couldn't help fearing over her soul's fate considering her incestuous birth. But there was nothing to be done about it. "Thank you for telling me," she said with a sob, "and sorry if it hurt. I think I need some time to myself, now." She turned to leave, tears in her eyes.
"Wait, Mildred."
She turned to catch an intense hatred in her mother's eyes. "Yes?" she asked, holding her breath under Morgan's iron gaze.
"My daughter, my warrior. You are so mighty—yes, I believe you can do it. You will avenge me." Mildy knew what she would say next, and wished she could be somewhere, anywhere else. She wished she'd never come. Knowledge of her birth wasn't worth this. "You will kill King Arthur."
"No, mother, why? You even said yourself he didn't know it was you, that he never knew."
"Yes, but he still raped me—an unforgivable offense, that must not go unpunished."
Mildy wholeheartedly agreed that the rape of any woman was an atrocious act, but this was King Arthur they were talking about! How could she kill him, especially considering he was her father? That would be even worse than him raping his sister. And even if he hadn't been her father, he was far too powerful, surrounded by the best army in the world and invincible in battle with Excalibur in hand.
"There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry for everything, but at least he's done a lot of good since then. I know it can never erase his deed, but it... almost balances it out, right? And he's still your brother. Doesn't that matter at all?"
Morgan didn't reply, and Mildy looked away, unable to meet her demanding gaze. She wanted the impossible, and Mildy knew she'd never be able to fulfill that desire for vengeance. Suddenly Morgan sat up, reaching for Mildy's hand. Pain flooded her eyes and she began to cough, blood flecking her lips.
"Mom?! What's wrong?"
"It's my lung—it never healed well. But that doesn't matter. Mildred, I'm glad you came. I love my daughter, and nothing can change that, not even your birth. Be well."
Mildy nodded and gave Morgan's hand a comforting squeeze. "Thank you. I'm sorry." She walked out, her mind in turmoil.
"What happened?" Ares asked. "You look like you've seen into hell."
She told them. "I would've been better off ignorant. My mom got raped by her brother! I think sleep's been killed for me."
Lance looked away, his eyes full of pity for her but also a natural disgust he could not hide. She sighed, wondering that confirmation of her royal blood could turn out so hurtful.
Ares hugged her, uncaring of her tainted birth. "Should I start calling you Your Highness from now on, Milady?"
She grinned, unable to help being amused. "Mildy will do."
"Okay, Milady."
After a period of awkward silence, Mildy asked Laerin, "So you'll be staying here, then? Make this your new home?"
"Yes, I suppose so. What about you? You've found your mother, will you stay here with her?"
"No, I don't think I'd take to faerie life, and I don't know if your people would be too welcoming to another human seeking refuge." In fact, she'd rather take Morgan out of here, to give her mother a new life with her own race. But she thought Morgan would never allow it, that she could never live under the rule of the brother who had raped her.
"You still going to be a knight, Mildy?" Lance asked, staring at the ground.
"I think so. Knight doesn't suddenly equal bad just because I learned my father's nasty secret. I mean, you're a knight." Only now did she realize Lance was of an age that he could have served with Arthur prior to her birth, though he would have been very young. "Were you there, when Arthur fought my mother?"
He looked her in the eye and said softly, "I didn't see it myself, but I heard of it and couldn't believe it. Of course, I never knew it was your mother, or even that it was Morgan, but it was enough that he'd raped a dying female on the enemy side. I was devastated to find out my king had done such a deed, and though I've somehow managed to hold his favor over the years, I've never forgotten that image. So I've found my excuse to stay away from him as much as possible, by always being on quest."
"So that's why you're always going places. I still can't believe my father..."
"Yeah, I know. Are you going to... do anything about it?"
"There's nothing to do, Lance. What's done is done, and I've no power to affect my father. And even if I did, he is my father, and I wouldn't want to plunge this land into chaos again after all it's already endured."
"You're a real good person, Mildy."
"I don't know if I'd say that. A real helpless person, sure." She began to weep, feeling again the weight of shame crushing her heart. What kind of monster was she, born from the cursed union of brother and sister? No wonder she was so different from normal women.
Too, she knew now she'd never be able to reveal her true origins to the world, never take her birthright as Arthur's child. One dream dead. And she didn't think she would even claim his parentage anymore; knowing what she did about him, he was no longer worthy of having a daughter. But what would she do now? Her reason for livi
ng the way she did was gone, and she could not imagine what the future held.
Wiping at her eyes, she decided to go to bed. She couldn't bear to stay awake.
#
"Will she be all right?" Ares asked Lance while they ate together, Mildy having retired with no appetite to her tent. He was concerned for his friend, but also worried that his quest to become a knight would reach its end. If Mildy's tormented spirit broke, his outlook for finding a new mentor seemed slim. He didn't want to go back to his family and prove them right. They'd always said he couldn't achieve anything of import, because he was weak. He didn't want to be weak anymore.
Lance swallowed the piece of lamb he had been chewing. "Don't worry. She even said she's going to keep being a knight, remember?"
"That's what she says, but she's hurting. I've seen men go mad from less, back home. I'm scared for her."
"It's good you care for her, but you needn't fear. Us northerners are made of sterner stuff than that."
"But she doesn't even have her driving motivation anymore."
"Don't worry, boy, she'll find a new one. She's born to fight. She won't quit."
Ares wasn't convinced, and not quite finishing his meal stole away into Mildy's tent. She was mumbling some unintelligible gibberish in her sleep, her face covered with sweat. A nightmare? He didn't want to interrupt her rest, but seeing her apparent distress shook her by the shoulder. "Milady, it's just a dream. Everything's all right."
She turned over slowly to look at him, her face pale and immensely weary. It was almost as if sleeping had tired her more than being awake. "Uhh. What time is it?"
"It's just past midnight. You were having a nightmare."
"No, I was having a vision. And you interrupted it."
Ares felt more frightened than ever that she was going mad. Sure, she'd learned her father's identity from a past dream vision, which proved accurate. But she hadn't spoken of having any similar experiences since, and it seemed unlikely that her next one would coincide so exactly with today's events.
"Are you sure it was a vision, and not just a normal dream?"
"Well, I'm not totally sure. But I thought I felt its truth."
"What did it tell you?"
"I saw a young sapling growing up, displacing the roots of its old parent as it did. Seems like a metaphor for me and my father, doesn't it?"
The meaning seemed fairly obvious. "But you said you weren't going to take vengeance on him."
"I'm not planning to. But fate happens in strange ways. Why did you have to deny me the rest of my dream? It might've been my only chance to be forewarned of my fate."
"Sorry. I thought you were suffering."
Mildy took a deep breath, the color returning somewhat to her face. "It's okay, Ares. I might not have liked what I saw, anyway." She raised the edge of her bedroll. "Want to get in here? It's kind of cold tonight, and you always complain."
"Thank you, Milady," he said, and tucked himself in next to his generous knight.
#
The warm sun rose again over the faerie glen, its rays brighter than Mildy had ever seen in Britannia proper. With the mood she was in, the light seemed more harsh than comforting. Three days had passed since her arrival here, and each day she'd visited Morgan, trying to get closer to her mother. But every time, the conversation had inevitably shifted to the subject of vengeance against her father, and she could stand it no more. She poked Ares, still sleeping beside her.
"Wake up, friend. It's time to say goodbye."
"What's the rush?" he asked sleepily.
"I just can't stay here." She knew Morgan to be the victim here, and her hatred of her brother justified. But she was frightened by the rage burning in her mother's eyes, and the idea of being asked again to take revenge. Right now, she had an overwhelming urge to just run away. She knew it wasn't the proper or responsible thing to do, but she couldn't help herself. Her mother would be fine, she told herself. Morgan had lived without her long enough.
Ares nodded absently, showing no will to defy her in her miserable state. They walked outside to find Lance and headed towards his patterned tent. Before Mildy could step inside, she heard a commotion nearby and turned to see what was going on. A faerie with a deep gash in his gut had arrived in town, supported by an uninjured companion. As his friend laid him on the ground, he began to shudder violently.
"Help him, somebody!" the healthy faerie begged.
A whole crowd of fey folk had gathered by now, but no one could do anything for the wounded man. Seconds later he stopped breathing, rotted away, and disintegrated into dust.
"What happened?" Mildy asked the surviving newcomer.
"A huge man with a great blade of iron attacked us while we were out hunting. There were five of us, but he came upon us like an avalanche, and within seconds we were the only two left. I tried to stab him, but my sword could not pierce his armor, and he nearly chopped me in half with his return blow. My friend saved me by pushing me out of the way, but took a bad wound doing so. Now he is dead."
Ironheart?! But she was sure she'd killed him. Even a unicorn wouldn't have been able to heal his wound, not that any would want to. "Where did you encounter this man?"
"Around the source of the stream just south of here. But he's fierce, lady. I don't think you should go after him."
Mildy sighed. "I'm in no mood to be told what I should and shouldn't do. Let's go, Ares." It had rained yesterday, and she hoped to catch Ironheart by following his tracks in the muddy ground.
When her squire didn't move, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along. "Wait," he said, pale with fear likely caused by Ironheart's apparent superhuman resilience, "why don't we just stay here and wait for him? Maybe we could catch him by surprise, even set up a few traps."
"We don't need that. Besides, we don't know where he's going next, if he's coming here or going to attack some other glen. Let's stop him before he can make that choice." Her blood boiled at Ironheart's survival, her failure to finish him off compounding the agitation that already filled her heart. And not only was Ironheart a murderer, but Mildy had begun to blame him for the newfound knowledge of her birth. After all, none of this would have happened without him, and she needed to take her frustrations out on someone.
"Milady, are you sure? Won't we be leaving this place undefended if we go?"
She turned to Lance, who had arrived to stand watching. "You stay here and protect the village, all right? Don't you underestimate him again—I don't want to find you dead when I come back!"
He nodded, his gaze averted in embarrassment at his defeat. "Of course not."
#
They'd passed by the stream on the way here, and with her nervous squire Mildy retraced her path. Soon they reached its cliffside source, and in the rain-soaked earth Mildy could easily make out the footprints of a heavy figure. Unfortunately, they led right into the water.
"He acted smarter this time, probably because he knew a couple of his victims got away." Ares looked to Mildy. "Think we should go back to the village, in case he decides to strike?"
"Let's look around the bank a bit more first," Mildy said. They had just about given up when Lance appeared before them. "What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be back at the village!"
"I was worried for you, Mildy. I'm sure he wouldn't attack so quickly, after losing the element of surprise."
"You're probably right. But we didn't find him, anyway." She paused. "Neither of you has anything left to do in the village, right?" Wherever Ironheart was going now, she intended to continue the chase. His evil needed stopping, and it was something to do.
"You never said goodbye to your mom," Ares said.
She nodded. Now that she had gotten a chance to calm down, she saw the wrongheadedness of her earlier intentions. Even if Morgan's rage intimidated her, it was her responsibility as a daughter to inform her mother of her departure and allow her to choose her future.
"I was going to say it was a good thing we brought our
horses along, but since we're going back... well, I guess I'm still glad we brought Irethine."
#
Laerin ran, the giant laughing behind him while he slaughtered his latest victims. A faerie girl shrieked as Ironheart's sword ripped into her lower back, leaving her to die a painful death while the poisoned wound stole her life. A young faerie man, perhaps her brother or lover, charged her killer with a pointed stick in hand. Ironheart ignored the stab which glanced off his armor and clove his attacker's head clean off. He picked up the simple spear and threw it through the chest of a fleeing woman, who died without a sound. While wood was not poisonous to fey, it could kill them just the same.
The monster had surprised the village, silently killing several faeries before the rest realized his presence. Now he gleefully mopped up the survivors, showing no mercy to anything that moved. Some of the faeries attempted to fight back, but all their efforts proved futile. Their weapons could not easily harm the armored man, and weakened merely by the touch of his iron garb, they could not grapple and overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Their magic too availed them nothing.
Seeing escape as his only hope, Laerin had decided to flee. But now Ironheart took note of his flight, and threw a rock that clipped the back of his head. His knees buckled as stars dotted his vision, and he fell flat on his face. Loud footsteps pounded ever closer, and he flopped over to see Ironheart looming above him. Laerin closed his eyes and prepared to die. He heard a clang, and looked to see a pan on the ground which must have bounced off the giant's armor.
"You are no faerie," Ironheart observed of his assailant.
