Blood of Kings

by Billy Wong

  Shortly before her planned assault on Camelot, Mildy found herself visited in her camp by Tirant. "What do you want?" she spat when she saw him heading towards her tent.

  "We want the same thing."

  The throne, he meant. She gave him a curious look. "But two people can't have it together."

  "Maybe not. Then again, maybe so. My offer still stands."

  What, his offer of marriage? "I'd never offer myself to a dishonorable lout like you, you scavenger. Britannia doesn't deserve you as its king."

  "You want your crown back, don't you? You'll be better equipped to take it with my support."

  "I wouldn't want to wear a crown that's nothing more than a symbol of your power over me."

  Tirant sighed. "Stubborn woman. You're not strong enough to take Camelot again. You'll only be crushed trying."

  Mildy frowned, considering his words. Her forces were rather weak to try and storm the mightiest stronghold in Britannia, but she'd beaten the odds before. She'd beaten her father... but she didn't want to lose any more allies than she had to, and any aid she could get would be helpful in that regard. Yet she realized that if she ever let her guard down against Tirant, he would make every effort to subjugate her. And she couldn't marry a man like that!

  "Leave, you knave. Before I dishonor myself by killing you here and now."

  "I think you should reconsider." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have your mother."

  Her breath caught in her throat, then she recovered her wits and asked, "You do, do you? When did you capture her?"

  "I have had her for six weeks now."

  Calm returned as Mildy realized he was bluffing. "In that case, why do you need my help? Camelot must already be under your control, considering that's where she's been all this time."

  Tirant seemed to grow confused. "What? How do you know she's there? You have not been there."

  "We've seen her walking on the battlements. Unless you can prove she's with you now?"

  "Could it really not be her?" he muttered under his breath. "But-" He retrieved something from a pouch on his belt and held it out to her. "I have this."

  Mildy stared, recognizing Morgan's signet ring, but shook her head. "I don't know where you got that, but I'm sure you could have copied it. I'll trust my eyes over it and your word."

  He looked her in the eye, and realized she could not be swayed. "You will live to regret this, Dread Lady."

  "Tirant... I doubt it."

  #

  "Couldn't you have offered him something else besides marriage?" Ares asked. "Maybe we could have just fought the one battle together, to defeat our mutual enemy."

  "How could I trust him at my back? I'm almost certain he'd turn on me once he saw a chance—if I allied with him, it would be with the thought of betraying him first at the end. And I couldn't do that, Ares. That kind of dishonor doesn't suit me."

  "You have a point, but how much worse could it be than what you're already planning? You're going to fight your brother, Milady."

  "Still, it wouldn't be safe to allow Tirant so close. I doubt I could match him in guile." Mildy looked at the sky and exhaled. "I know you hate what I'm doing, and I hate it too. But I want to make things better."

  Ares saw a tear trickle down her cheek and hugged her tightly. "I know you're not a bad woman. But this is going too far. I'm starting to wish Arthur had never died."

  "Me too. I didn't want to kill him. But he made me do it. Why couldn't everyone just leave things alone after he died?"

  Well, she hadn't left things alone. But Ares supposed Mildy was one of the more blameless players. She'd been pushed into a role she didn't care for, and just as she was getting comfortable there pushed right out again. It was quite understandable she wouldn't just lie back and take it.

  "Don't worry, Milady. We're going to get through this, and when everything's right again, we can forget all about it."

  She shook her head. "I don't know, Ares. I already killed my father, and don't want to kill my brother, too. Why does he have to be such a fool?! You don't throw away your family for the sake of power!"

  "But Gawain claims he did it for the country. What about you? You killed Arthur for the fey, didn't you?"

  "The fey and myself, yes. We all do what we think is right, and I don't know if I really am."

  Mildy's shoulders slumped with wavering resolve, and Ares regretted making his friend doubt herself. Yes, it was a matter of perspective, but he did think hers was the most justified at this point. Or maybe that was just because she was his friend.

  "You're right," he reassured her. "You shouldn't have been punished just for strangers' perceptions of you."

  "Ares, if I die, can I trust you not to let Tirant take over our land?"

  If she died, he'd probably be long dead beforehand. And if he lived, he was no leader to take her place. But he didn't say that. "Of course I will. Better Gawain than him, right?"

  "Definitely. But I do hope we win."

  "Me too. Good luck being queen again."

  "Good luck in Greece." Having thus reinforced their hopes of success, they set out for battle.

  #

  Mildy's army outnumbered Camelot's defenders by less than double, and she knew a direct assault would be hopeless. Still, Gawain could call up more allies, and then even her relatively small advantage would be lost. So she decided to risk all on one great gambit—an excursion into the castle through a hidden tunnel she and Ares had found, with the intention of lowering the drawbridge for the rest of her army. But she never got to attempt that tactic, as to her surprise Gawain rode out with his force to meet hers long before they reached the castle. Her brother's pride might prove the death of him yet. By coming out to fight her, he was playing to her strengths.

  They met on a flowery meadow which reminded her of the one where she killed her father, only this time it was autumn and the flowers had begun to wilt away. As she rushed among her foes, her flail hammering down again and again to bathe in blood and brains, Mildy wondered at the omen this might be. If the last battle had been her dawn, would this be her end? Would she ever be able to restore the regime she'd built in Arthur's stead, even if she did survive this battle?

  She had already begun to thin the ranks of her former allies, even men who had served on her Round Table. Mildy doubted her inner circle would be anything like it used to be if she did win out over her rebellious brother. Too, Gawain's men held their formation and fought well, taking a steep toll on her own force. Why did it have to come to this? She wept as she slaughtered her foes, too tired to go on and too stubborn to quit. As usual, she took wound after wound, but hardly noticed, too dejected over the war she was forced to wage.

  Slowly, she began to beat the enemy into a fighting retreat. Out from the trees a tide of warriors rushed Gawain's left flank, which started to waver immediately. Not her men, she knew right away. She had made no such plan. Then she saw Tirant at the head of her apparent allies, and her eyes narrowed. For now he helped her, but he had waited until after Gawain significantly weakened her army. Once he was done with her brother, she wondered if he would not try to finish her as well. He would, she thought, if he had enough men. She made her decision.

  "Gawain!" she shouted over the din of battle. "Truce, brother! We'll save our quarrel for when we've dealt with this bastard."

  He stared at her, his pride warring with necessity. But his force had already been greatly depleted, and he must know Tirant would spare no mercy. "All right, Mildy. Truce it is."

  She rushed through the ranks of Gawain's army, set on taking the fight to Tirant, and came upon her brother close to overwhelming one of the Frenchman's lieutenants. Before he could finish his opponent, though, Mildy saw Tirant aiming at him with a deadly longbow. How contemptible, for him to carry Excalibur and yet resort to the cowardly use of a bow! He fired at the unprepared Gawain, but Mildy shoved her brother out of the way and took the powerful arrow through her arm, pinning it to her side and knocking her down. That
was one strong bow. Mildy sat up just in time to watch Tirant charge Gawain, now aware of his plight but still busy with his first foe.

  Gawain's battle turned into a handicapped affair, and in moments the two men had him backing away in desperate retreat. Mildy broke the arrow and tore her arm free, then stood and crushed the lieutenant's sternum with a heavy blow.

  Tirant turned livid eyes upon her while she clutched her screaming wound. "You'd forsake victory for the sake of honor?"

  "I'd rather win my own battles than take the help of a dog like you."

  Gawain attacked. Though Tirant possessed Excalibur, Mildy's brother was skilled enough to parry the magic sword without having his own destroyed. Sometimes one man held the advantage, then the other, but neither for long. Suddenly, Tirant managed to strike Gawain's sword on the flat and broke it, leaving him with less than a foot of blade.

  To Mildy's surprise, he did not press his advantage. Instead he taunted, "Remember your defeat," and withdrew into the mass of his men, signaling the retreat.

  Gawain turned toward Mildy, hardly looking defeated. "That's strange. Why do you think he ran away like that?"

  "I expect he's decided to let us kill each other first. He didn't want to risk trying to finish you, only to have me kill him instead."

  "Paranoid rogue, isn't he?"

  "Well, it's what I would have done."

  "So are we going to oblige his wishes?"

  Mildy looked her brother in the eye. "I don't want to."

  He dropped his sword and sighed. "You saved my life, Mildred. Took a nasty wound doing it, too."

  She glanced at her arm and shrugged. "Just a scratch. So does this mean..?"

  "Yes, I suppose so. I can't well kill you without a sword, and it wouldn't be fair to fight you with one. I surrender."

  "Thank God," Mildy mumbled, before shouting her victory to the troops.

  #

  Shortly after Gawain's "loss" at Mildy's hands, the two returned to Camelot with their armies. Mildy sat on the parapet following the official parlay, the arrow wound through her bicep and into her armpit more painful than she cared to admit.

  "I'm glad I didn't have to kill you," she said to Gawain, who stood before her.

  "Who says you would have killed me? I would have cut you down just like every other enemy I fought today."

  "Except for Tirant."

  Gawain grunted. "A cheat with a magic sword."

  "A magic sword we should get back. So you won't try to throw me out again, will you?"

  "I can't. You saved my life."

  Mildy wasn't satisfied with that. "What if I hadn't? Would you toss me away like I was a piece of trash, rather than your sister?"

  "You're a noble soul. I suppose Camelot will just have to deal with your presence and the damage it causes."

  She smiled. "So what are we going to tell Mom?"

  "Some drivel about family sticking together, I suppose. Should we join up and chase after Tirant and his force?"

  "No, not right now. We've got to sort things out with our allies first. They're too confused to make good pursuers." Mildy paused. "So who gets to be king? We're both still alive."

  "You just said king."

  "I meant ruler. I don't really care for it, anyway. Do you?"

  "I'm unsure. It's a tough responsibility."

  Mildy grinned. "How about we share it, then?"

  Gawain's eyes widened at the novel proposal. "That'd be something else. If we were husband and wife, it might be less strange. But brother and sister?"

  "Don't even think in that direction—I don't need to hear any more about incest! But what's wrong with brother and sister?"

  "I don't know. It's different."

  "Difference is good."

  He patted her shoulder and stood. "We'll think about it later, alright? I have to speak to my men."

  "Alright, later then. I need to speak to my men too." She stood with him. "Wait, where's Bedivere?"

  "Gone. I hear he ran off right after I agreed to your truce."

  "But what will he do now?" Mildy smiled wryly. "It would be a hell of a thing for him to join up with Tirant."

  "You never know. Let's hope Tirant will remember that Bedivere already betrayed me, and think twice about allying with a traitor."

  "Poor Bedivere. But we'll still have to watch out for him. Why do those two keep getting away?"

  "We'll get them someday. Let's fix up our country first."

  #

  Though glad to have made peace with her brother, Mildy dreaded the confrontation to come with her mother. Even as things began to settle down, Mildy kept busy picturing one nightmare scenario after another. When a semblance of calm had been restored to Camelot, she went to her room and cried. She felt so angry, and yet unable to bring herself to face Morgan. She didn't want to make their relationship any worse. She knew too that Morgan would be in an unpleasant mood, as Lance was said to have left amidst ever-growing hostility from her.

  Ares came to visit her and she let him in without cheer, wondering only what he meant to bother her with now. "Milady, are you alright?" he asked softly.

  "I'm better than I was before," she said fairly honestly. At least she knew she wouldn't have to kill her brother. It was just that that worry had been replaced by another.

  "You don't look that much better."

  She took a deep breath and wiped at her wet face. "I can't believe Morgan could encourage my brother to banish me. How could she do that?! She knew me before her son. I did everything for her. I took her in, killed her rapist who was my father, took the crown I didn't want... how could she betray me?"

  "I'm sorry. But she always was a little crazy..."

  Morgan had held an unhealthy obsession with seeing her brother dead, yes. But at least to Mildy, she'd seemed a caring, decent woman besides. "I have such a messed up family."

  "It could be worse," Ares tried to comfort her.

  "How?"

  He didn't have an answer at first. "You could be bedding your brother, too. Though things are pretty bad as is."

  "What do I do?"

  "When my family has problems, we just talk."

  "And does it work for you?"

  "No, not really. I mean, I'm here. But there's nothing better for us to try."

  She sighed. "Fine, we'll have a family meeting. Come with me, Ares."

  "I'm not a member of your family."

  He almost was. After all they'd been through, he seemed more like a proper brother to her than the one she'd been at war with. "Just come. I need you."

  "Sure, Milady. If you need me."

  Mildy frowned. There was something she'd been meaning to talk to him about. "Ares, why do you still call me Milady? We've been through crazy times together. Aren't I your friend?"

  "Of course you're my friend. But you're my knight, too—and queen now, for that matter."

  She laughed. "I hardly care about formalities like that. Sure, I teach you things, but when have I ever treated you like I was your master?"

  He looked at her, not quite angrily but with a bit of annoyance in his eyes. "You barely give me a say as to what we're going to do next. It's not like we're equals."

  "And do you ever try to change my mind about something?"

  "Not very often. But that's because you're my knight."

  Silly circles. "Okay, then. How about from now on, you tell me what you think and we'll consider it together."

  "Thanks, Mildy."

  Oh, thank heaven! That was much better.

  #

  Her good mood was already evaporating as she walked with Ares and Gawain to Morgan's room. What was she going to say? Sure, her brother and close friend would be there with her, but she was the one who had been rejected by her mother, and would have to be the one to confront her. Morgan stood up from the edge of her bed, her eyes wild with rage.

  "Mom, what happened? Why are you so angry with me?"

  She recoiled at the response. "Why did you come back here, Mildre
d? You're a worthless monster born of a fiendish act, no good to anyone. You should have stayed away."

  "How dare you!" Ares said. "Your daughter loves you, and did everything she could for you. How could you abandon her?"

  Mildy felt glad he'd saved her the question. "What does that matter?" Morgan replied. "She's an abomination, and God hates her for her very existence. Even commoners call her a monster out of her hearing, for all know what she is!"

  Mildy began to believe her mother really had gone insane, and could not bring herself to rebuke her. Gawain too just stood there awkwardly, but Ares helped her again. "God doesn't hate her. God sees what we are inside, and doesn't care how we're born if we're good at heart. And Mildy is."

  "Mildy. Always 'Mildy.' I hate that name. It sounds so gentle and sweet, doesn't it? But you're really the Dread Lady, who's killed countless men with no remorse. Who killed her father just to save her own useless life."

  Through the suffocating guilt, Mildy realized something was wrong. No matter how crazy her mother had become, Morgan would never use that argument against her. She had been the one who always insisted on Arthur's demise! Remembering how her father had been tricked into thinking the fey plotted against him, Mildy balled her hands into tight fists.

  "Merlin," she breathed. "That's what you used to be called, isn't it?"

  She heard Gawain take a step back, and Ares' shortsword scraped clear of its sheath. The creature pretending to be her mother abandoned its pretense. "Yes, I am. But I was Nimue first, and now I'll kill you. You murdered my son, you beast."

  Mildred had killed many men, but Galahad wasn't one of them. "Arthur killed your son, and it was your plan which made him do it."

  "No, my other son." Okay, Mildy had killed many other sons. But she couldn't have been prepared for Nimue's revelation of who she meant. "You burned him, you monster. He was nothing more than a baby, and you destroyed him, so close to his salvation! It was right there, the Grail... you murdered him just before I could save him! You, you..."

  The frozen child? It was the only thing she could have been talking about. "But he was already dead," Mildy told the delusional wizardess. If he had ever even been alive, he still couldn't have been saved. He hadn't been born to live, and Mildy thought even the Grail wouldn't have changed that.