Camelot Enterprise: A Contemporary Arthurian Epic

by GR Griffin

  “-I did it to protect you.” He muttered, barely audible over the sirens.

  She leant closer to him.

  “What makes you think I needed your protection?” breaking out of his grasp, but making no effort to move away, she bit her lip in upset. Protection. At first the words infuriated her, and then it induced further pain. As always, Arthur had done what he thought was right – protecting her from the risks of Camelot Enterprise, sheltering her from Uther’s callous views on magic. Even if she was his daughter, Morgana doubted her would spare her, or Arthur, the treatment every other druid faced: the labs. Arthur had been trying to save her from an impending doom; he just hadn’t gone about it very gracefully. Arthur smiled at her; but it wasn’t a smile. It was a signal, a pleading signal for forgiveness, for some kind of response.

  He cupped her face with his hands urgently; Morgana felt her own sorrow consume her.

  “Do you know how alone I’ve been?” she shrieked. Arthur pressed one hand to her raven-hair, resting his forehead against hers. “How…scared I’ve been…” her words became less cohesive through her upset. She clasped Arthur’s shoulders in despair. He was all she had right now, despite his wrongdoings. Panic swathed her system. She was still alone. She was always alone. “You…” she dug her nails into his jacket, afraid he was a hallucination, that this was all one of her cruel dreams. “You left me…”

  Arthur flinched at the accusation, the pain in her voice. Caressing her hair gently, he managed to speak through his distress.

  “I’m so sorry Morgana-”

  “-You let me believe I was imagining it all…” she whispered, pulling out of his embrace abruptly. Her expression dramatically changed, and Arthur couldn’t help but feel they were going round in an endless spiral of misery.

  “I thought you’d changed.” She admitted pensively.

  Arthur’s upset morphed into rage. He distanced himself from her, hand raised.

  “I am not the man I was!” he sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of this, emotionally conflicted and torn. “And I never will be again-”

  “-Why didn’t you tell me Arthur?” she snapped, no longer thinking about his feelings and only caring for her own.

  Arthur selfishly did the same, becoming defensive. Voices began to echo down the corridor; neither made haste to move.

  “You don’t know what I’ve been through Morgana, the weight that is crushing down upon my soul-”

  “-You’re right!” she screeched, tears threatening to fall from her eyes once again. “I don’t know because you have neglected to trust me all this time.” Frowning, she tried to calm her shaking body.

  “Don’t be stupid, I’ve always trusted you.” Arthur replied sternly, attempting to address her with a level voice lacking in obvious emotion. Swallowing-hard, he met her eyes. “Which is why you need to know why I…I left Camelot for good.” Eyes diminishing in vibrancy, Arthur sighed. “My mother, Igraine, was unable to conceive. Uther called upon Nimueh to help create a child. I am a product of magic, that’s why I can do magic.” Pause, his eyes flickered with grief. “And in order to me to be born, somebody had to die.” Tracing the Merlin-bird necklace gently, Arthur forced a smile, trying to remember her beautiful face. Already, her features had become blurry, his mind unable to hold onto an honest representation of her.

  Morgana remained silent, understanding what he meant.

  “Uther has to be stopped,” he said changing the subject. “I know you support me on this.” He looked into her eyes softly, taking a step forwards. “I promise when all of this is over, we can talk. Or we don’t have to talk ever again,” sadness etched onto his face at the notion of that. “Please don’t let my mistakes cause more suffering to the people of Albion. We need to make a stand.”

  Nodding, Morgana took a step forwards.

  “I will forgive you one day Arthur,” she mused quietly, a sad laugh escaping her lips. Of course she would, it was Arthur. They were Arthur and Morgana.“But you have caused me so much pain-”

  “-I know, and words cannot express how…sorry I am.” He whispered, knowing it was not enough that sorry was simply just a word and no longer meant anything. Nonetheless, a small smile tickled her lips, revealing that for now, that was enough. Smiling back, Arthur pulled her into a firm embrace.

  The door suddenly swung open, revealing a large group of guards. They pulled apart fiercely at the intrusion. Arthur pulled his sword out, his other palm outstretched. Morgana reached for one of the weapons hanging on the wall, mimicking Arthur in his actions. More guards spewed in, backing them further into the room. None other than Valiant emerged from the group, gun hoisted over his shoulders. Smirking at the pair, he ushered the guards backwards, allowing the three of them more space. Arthur kept his ground, not allowing the man to intimidate him.

  “Well, well, well,” diverting his attention to Arthur, Valiant raised his eyebrows. “How far you have fallen Arthur Pendragon.” Reaching for his gun, he gestured towards their weapons. “I suggest you put those down.”

  Reluctantly, Arthur tossed his sword to the floor holding his hands up in surrender. Morgana gazed over to him in shock and disgust – how dare he just yield to Valiant’s command. Catching his eye, she almost missed the wink he gave her. Slowly, Morgana placed her weapon on the ground and held up her hands. Valiant appeared to be delighted with their obedience. Striding forwards, he leant towards Arthur and studied his attire. He was dressed in simple clothing, any sense of corporal stature completely gone. He was a disgrace to Camelot Enterprise, he always had been.

  “You really are one of them aren’t you?”

  Silence. Arthur glowered at the man, refusing to respond verbally. Nothing could have prepared Arthur for the brutal punch that met his stomach, followed by the metal of the gun crashing against his jaw. Sprawling to the ground, Arthur spluttered in shock, gasping for air. Fuck that hurt. Morgana made no movement other than a miniscule flinch, knowing this was no joke. One step out of line, Valiant would fire. He was ruthless, callous. Cradling his stomach with one hand, Arthur clamped his eyes shut, body throbbing.

  “Pathetic.” Valiant spat, ensuring to kick Arthur in the stomach before turning to Morgana. His eyes trailed over her body before resting back on her face. “Shame we have to kill you really,” he gently smoothed a hand over her face. “You’re so beautiful-” Without hesitation, Morgana pushed him backwards, eyes smouldering with hatred. The guards chuckled, Valiant grinned, unfazed by her actions.

  “So full of fire too,” he sauntered towards her once more. “Are you always this, passionate?”

  Seething, Arthur reached for the sword on the ground, managing to haul himself back onto his feet.

  “Get away from my sister you bastard!” his voice lacked conviction, the way he stumbled on his feet made his threat far less menacing than intended.

  Regaining his balance, Arthur tried to cast the dizziness he felt aside. Valiant turned his attention towards him.

  “I’m going to enjoy watching you die Arthur.” He admitted, cracking his knuckles for effect.

  Arthur tightened his grip on the sword, teeth gritted together.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” He said maliciously.

  This seemed to amuse Valiant greatly. Morgana didn’t waste this opportunity. She knew she only had a few seconds before chaos would break lose. Whacking Valiant round the head with the gun she watched him fall to the ground. The guards lunged forwards ready to open fire. Eyes flashing silver, Arthur pushed a handful of them back, creating a domino effect. Gun in her hands, Morgana turned her attention to her brother.

  “I’ll hold them off, you get out of here.” She barked. “Find Merlin and stop Uther-”

  “-Oh no.” Arthur groaned, pushing her behind him- this was so cliché. “You don’t get to be the protective sibling. I’m the older one remember?” he met her eyes for a moment and extended his hand. “I’m not going anywhere without you ever again.”

  Rolling her eye
s she feigned annoyance, but reached for his hand nonetheless.

  “Guess we’re stuck with each other then.”

  Squeezing her hand, Arthur smiled fondly.

  “Guess you’re right Morg.”

  The guards began to fire their bullets, the sound loud enough to overpower the sirens. In a flash of blinding light, the pair vanished. The only thing left in their place were gold and silver particles, sparkling as they danced around the room. Confused, the guards refrained from shooting. They gazed around the room, as if believing somehow they’d find them. But there was no trace of Morgana and Arthur Pendragon.

  They had literally disappeared into thin air.

  ♦☼♦

  A whirlwind of colours, and the deafening sound of gunfire morphed into the familiar forests of Albion. The trees here were still standing; although from here, you could see the smoke, see the extensive gap where Ealdor once was. Leon sighed in relief at the sight of Morgana and Arthur. He reached for Morgana first, planting an affectionate kiss on her temple.

  “Thank goodness,” he breathed, turning to Arthur. “Gwaine was beginning to get angsty and bromantic.”

  The words triggered brief hilarity in everyone apart from Gwaine. Waltzing towards them, Gwaine scoffed. He refused to be fazed or show some kind of reaction to the words.

  “I was merely outlining our options in the event that you-”

  “-I’m touched Gwaine.” Arthur admitted with a grin, sounding like himself for the first time in weeks. “Really I am. But now’s really not the time.” With that he gazed around the forest determinedly, grin transforming into a stern frown.

  “Where are we going?” Lancelot asked, the first to voice the question everybody had been wondering.

  “Camelot.” Arthur responded nonchalantly, scurrying through the supplies Gwaine and co had managed to salvage during their escape.

  “We’ve just escaped from Camelot, you mean to go back?!” Morgana enquired in disbelief, folding her arms across her chest.

  She failed to see sense in his motives. He shot her an amused look, not bothering to elaborate on his words. Obviously, they wouldn’t be going back to Camelot Base, which was pointless. It took a few moments for his true intentions to be recognised. Morgana understood what he meant first, meeting his eyes severely. This was risky. Gwaine clicked it too and raised one hand in exasperation.

  “Woah, easy.” He exclaimed. “Going back to Camelot-Camelotis a suicide mission! We’ll never make it into the labs.”

  Arthur acknowledged Gwaine’s words. Yes, it was going to be difficult. He bet nobody back home even knew the atrocities that were happening here. Nonetheless, they had to be careful. Breaking into the labs…that was not going to be easy, or taken lightly. But in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter how difficult it was, because this was human beings they were talking about, people who needed help. People who had been neglected for too long.

  “These people have been locked up, tortured merely because they have magic.” Arthur said, melancholy riming his eyes. “If I am ever to set things right with the people of Albion, I need to prove that I truly care about their welfare.” Pause. “I’m going to do what I should’ve done years ago, with or without your help.”

  “Count me in.” Lancelot said seconds after Arthur had finished.

  Touched, Arthur smiled softly at his friend.

  “Me too, there’s no cause I’d rather die for.” Leon’s voice resounded through his ears.

  “We have no chance.” Gwaine met Arthur’s eyes. “But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Morgana nodded, indicating she too was going to follow him into Camelot and attempt one of the most treacherous missions in the history of druid rights. Hoisting the bag of supplies over his back, Arthur turned to his friends with a warm smile.

  “There’s no time to waste then.”

  Chapter 43

  Dawn had barely begun to seep over the dark horizon. Hundreds, thousands of Druids were fast asleep on the soft earth; the grass cradled their traumatised minds, allowing them at least one peaceful night in the haven of Iaonem. For the first time in days, the Druids had started to talk, to eat and converse with each other. Conversation was dull, dreary and often plagued with the overwhelming notion of what had come to pass and what would. Nonetheless, it was a step in the right direction. Gwen hoped it would spark the resolute fire inside of their souls, like it had with her. If there was one thing that she had learnt, it was that the Druids were strong people. They were not so quick to give up and cast aside their faith. Even now, they were beginning to find themselves, slowly slip back into their own quaint characters.

  Gwen’s eyes softly gazed over the people from the rock she was sat upon. She felt obliged to watch them, as Merlin had asked her to. Hunith was weary, and needed rest; Will was stubborn and full of pessimism. His attitude would do the people no good at this moment in time. Therefore, Gwen had taken responsibility since Merlin’s departure, fiercely leading the people towards this temporary home. Merlin. Merlin had been gone for four days now. When she had a few minutes to herself, and was sure nobody was observing her, she would frown. She would bow her head solemnly and pray, pray that Merlin was somewhere safe. She would pray that wherever he was and whatever his intentions that he wasn’t being selfless or foolish. Merlin had proved time and time just how far he would go for his people – she was certain if it came to it he would die for them.

  It wouldn’t come to that, she had convinced herself of this. Merlin was Emrys. He had unfathomable power. It wasn’t a crime to lose your way in the hands of Destiny and Fate; it happened to everyone. But Merlin was different; she smiled fondly. She knew he would rediscover his power, his grit-determination to do what was right. She didn’t understand how she knew; yet she did know that when it came to Merlin she never questioned her blinding belief in him. He always delivered, exceeding her expectations. Merlin would return in time. And when he returned, she was confident the hope of the people would crash down upon them, that a mutual affirmation would hurtle through the Druids.

  The golden flicker of sunlight traced the top of the hills to the East. A sigh escaped her lips. Once upon a time, the forests of Ealdor had dusted this horizon, reminding all of its brilliance. Now nothing but the Northern Valleys and other far less striking landscapes was all the eye could see. The Crystal Cave had gone, the whole settlement was gone...Arthur was gone, as was Gwaine. Lancelot was gone. Oh, how she missed him. Brushing a hand over her watery eyes, Gwen inhaled a deep breath to try and keep herself composed. It was all gone. The past six months had been the best of her life. Not only had she found love, she had found friendship and kindness. Despite what the other Druids thought, she acknowledged that Arthur Pendragon had not acted out of spite or maliciousness. He had acted out of completely different emotions, emotions that skewed his perception of what was right and what was wrong.

  He had irrationally wished that withholding information would in fact work in favour of Ealdor, and himself. He had been wrong. Yet Arthur never intended to hurt Merlin, or the people. Gwen was sure this was true; she had seen the blatant affection in his eyes, the way he had looked at Merlin that day. The day all of this chaos begun. Casting these thoughts aside, Gwen studied the vast landscape in awe. Iaonem was beautiful. The large white willow tree rivalled the majestic nature of the Ealden forests. The Iaonem tree was constantly a beacon of the West, a landmark of significance. It wasn’t the Crystal Cave, but it was all they had at this moment in time.

  According to the ancient legends, in a time of sorrow and great suffering, Druids had assembled here for peace and refuge. It was here they healed their minds and bodies, here that they had forged a plan to take back what was rightfully theirs. Gwen wondered if any of the Druids remembered this story. A shadow from the corner of her eyes caught her attention. She turned abruptly to the spot, watching a young boy flinch and dive back into the shadows. For a moment she believed he had fled, and then she spotted him bashfully p
oke his head out and gaze silently at her. He had enigmatic golden-brown eyes, and a generous heap of russet hair. Freckles dusted his skin. Many of the Children didn’t speak, there was great concern that they had forgotten how to or too shocked to comprehend simple actions. Smiling gently, Gwen reached out her hand towards the boy. Slowly he stumbled out of the shadows and cautiously moved towards her.

  “Sit,” she gestured to the place beside her on the stone. Obediently, the child complied and nestled beside her. He leant into her touch immediately, clinging onto her for dear life. Gwen assumed that his child was one of the many who had lost their parents in the destruction. She drew her arm around him, offering him a kind look. “What’s your name?”

  Shyly the child burrowed his burning cheeks into her clothes, his words muffled by the fabric. Nonetheless, she was able to hear his name.

  “Calhoun, couldn’t you sleep?” the child -Calhoun - shook his head in response silently, nuzzling closer into her side; his head was buried against her dress. Gently, Gwen ran a hand through his soft hair.

  “We’ll be alright.” She cooed affectionately, unsure whether he would believe her or even listen. The Druids hadn’t exactly been the most responsive the past few days. Smoothing her fingers gently over his scalp, she rested her head on his. “An old friend once told me many months ago that no matter what we battles face, the Druids always have managed to win.”

  Gazing up at the woman blankly, Calhoun finally spoke in his small voice. He sounded scared; this blatant fear angered Gwen.No child deserved to live in such fear, deserved to feel so terrified to even enjoy their youth.