[United Kingdom] Lunging, Excalibur & Fate (CLOSED)

Had he always been this mouthy or was that the byproduct of his rebirth? Guinevere couldn't tell. She never really bore him much mind. Back then, she was more concerned with her own path. Mordred had always been a mistake in her eyes. But of course, he was a cog in a much grander machination. So when he refuted her assumption that he was speaking of her, adding an effective insult to it as well, her brow furrowed. He went on about the grove being his safe spot. In a way she understood. It was his equivalent to her vault. Naturally, her lair held far more priceless and powerful artefacts than he could've imagined. Perhaps one day she would show him.

Guinevere's gaze was staunchly locked on Rupert still, unaware of their secret language. She didn't need to be, as she was constantly prepared for anything that might be coming her way. An added benefit was her presence among them. She knew them well by now. Just how long had the Dark One been in their midst? Sharing meals, telling stories, performing heroics. Only she knew and it was an essential weapon she intended to use to its fullest extent.

Then he revealed something she was privy to before, but summoned a wicked smile anyway. From what he had spoken of his other father, the bastard had it coming. She sensed the darkness in him as he spoke of his deed. In other circumstances, she would've even been there to help him. A staple of her work. Familial issues proved to be among the greatest sources of darkness and manipulating those with the potential. A delicious bonus was when it would rob them of their innocence. Mordred was anything but, however. Which made him paradoxically easier and more difficult to sway. He knew of his mistakes, what he could've become, so him actively fighting it provided ample protection against outside forces. A tougher nut to crack. Guinevere always liked challenges, though. The fruits tasted much sweeter.

"Ah yes, the great Captains Britain! Well, truth be told, they have never been very impressive. Dreadfully valorous. Their other brother, on the other hand? Now there's a brain I would kill to poke."

Her words were still aimed at Mordred, not acknowledging Betsy still. And then Mordred went to Lancelot. As his words reached her, Guinevere's expression went from confidence to sadness, dread, heartbreak. A knight who loved her deeply and entirely. A man who did not deserve his fate. Perhaps her greatest mistake. And while all those things were true, Guinevere couldn't help but ditch the charade and let the grove fill with her sudden laughter. A valiant attempt, but for naught.

"Dearie, fulfillment is something I no longer concern myself with. What a silly notion!"

Guinevere's smile didn't fade.

"Though since you mentioned it---"

In a swift puff of black smoke, Guinevere disappeared from her previous location, appearing right behind Mordred. Her next words would be in an airy whisper.

"I will indulge you with that tale."

She disappeared again, with a chuckle, faster than he could react, reappearing roughly at the same spot as she was before. Guinevere began to stroll around the area, as she told the story some didn't know.

"It is true, I did love Lancelot. And he loved me. More than anyone ever had, perhaps. Completely, without hesitation. There was even a time when I considered leaving with him. If you think Arthur, gods rest his soul for now, would've noticed, you're sorely mistaken. His "love" was fueled by his obsession with your mother and the prophecy. But then, I unveiled my true purpose. I took this power and saw with untold clarity. I knew how to make Arthur see. So, Lancelot's pure heart became my tool. To my astounding disappointment, Arthur was weak. Seeing his queen with another only broke him, when it should have lit his heart ablaze. The once mighty lion was neutered. And well, the rest, you were there for."

Guinevere's storytelling voice was different than her speaking one, which was an attribute of Dark Ones that sometimes emerged. Since she was not the first, there were other Dark Ones whose influence overcame her at times. This was one of those times. Her cadence and word stresses varied, making her brief story strangely more intriguing to listen to.

"As for Lancelot... the Darkness has no room for those trying to take away what is rightfully yours. As alluring as his thighs were."

The Dark One spoke of these events so casually, like they were simply things that happened and not the sources of deep anguish. It was how the Darkness warped its hosts. But it was more than that, it was Guinevere neglecting the pain. What use did she have for it when the world was at her fingertips? Her story and stroll ended in the place where she began, again. Her usual demeanor returned, now standing, hands clasped in front of her, eyes locked on Mordred once again.

"Now then, let's get to the main course, shall we? Since reincarnation didn't do anything to fix your intellectual capacity, your magic from those tiny little winged pests is your most worthwhile aspect."

Guinevere spoke professionally now. As much as she reveled in small-talk and seeing Mordred try to keep up, she did want something. Of course she did, the Dark Ones always want something. 

"I want to make a deal."

Betsy continued to watch the two of them verbally battle it out. This was Rupert's skill over her method of "punch first, ask questions later". She was still rattled by the appearance of the Dark One, and her mind was reeling over the same things that made Guinevere so terrifying. When had Meggan stopped being Meggan? How far back did it go? Had there even been a Meggan in the first place? Betsy closed her eyes. No, not that thought. Never that thought. The woman who had taken over protection of her brother, raised his child, her niece... there was no way it could be a con that long, that barbaric and twisted.

There was a cracking sound, and the magic surrounding Betsy shattered into glowing pieces that danced about the glades like fireflies. Free from her bonds, Captain Britain lowered her sword, finally able to take a deep breath. Guinevere was underestimating her, but Betsy didn't take her to be stupid. No, it was more to make her disinterested in her. She had stayed bound for a few seconds more than she needed to, while allowing Rupert time to find out more. She swung her gaze to her companion, then back to their enemy. A deal? What could this woman be planning?

It took a lot for Betsy to hold her tongue and restrain her action. It showed a trust for Rupert, as there were few in the world, Other or not, that she would wait for. Betsy knew he needed her to trust in his words, his actions. Those secret signals they had laid out so long ago alluded to this. She frowned, gritting her teeth, clenching her fists around her weapon. She just had to wait and hold. Hold... unless the Dark One tried to play silly buggers and lay an underhanded trick on them both. Pink butterfly wings framed her face as she tracked Guinevere's movements, in case she tried to deceive them. Betsy was trying to take a leaf from Rupert's book, to wait and watch. She would know what she was waiting for soon enough.

Rupert's eyes narrowed slightly as Lady Guinevere spoke. Was she after fae magic? Light in the purest sense? What could she possibly want to do with that? No, she was not likely to spill the beans even if asked. Instead, he focused on the wording behind her... supposed deal... Rupert also continued to communicate with Betsy, which, in essence, were: "She clearly has done something to Meggan, attacking her would just give her an opening to escape... and my magic is not strong enough to stop her from running away."

"A deal would requere the excange of someteng en return," he said, voice measured. He was not going to hand over what she wanted; he had been raised to the ways of the fae to know that rash deals were usually foolish at the best of times and downright dangerous for those promising away things without thinking. " And orgeve me ef the "retrieve your friend" does not fell me weth much confidence. Blackmailing your way to a deal es not a good look, even or you, Milady."

He folded his arms, taking a moment to let the words sink in. He felt that her nonchalant way of talking about Meggan as an afterthought had to be an act; she knew both were thinking about her.

"So, wat do you offer en return?"

They were more tenacious than she had hoped. Mordred had picked up something during these years after all. Very well. Resistance was expected. Their responses merited plenty of her own. Mordred speaking of blackmailing almost sent Guinevere into a fit of laughter again. The social skills of a hare, truly.

"Mordred, darling, blackmail is a Dark One's bread and butter! We simply use different words and more elaborate methods."

Betsy's rage was evident, which Guinevere surely reveled in. She didn't entirely acknowledge Captain Britain yet, but did have a few words to throw her way before carrying on.

"The pet speaks! Now be a dear and put that away. I shielded my mind from such things before you were born."

Her gaze barely reached Betsy as she spoke, but she did briefly point at her psionic blade. Captain Britain didn't have to worry, soon the Dark One's attention would be squarely on her. The Dark One had more aces up her sleeves. However, first she had to address Mordred's request again. Her words would be accompanied by a disappointing and annoyed eyeroll.

"Your lack of an adventurous spirit is rather disappointing. But very well."

Guinevere's right arm rose, its wrist lazily making half a spin as a black cloud of smoke appeared just next to her. As the smoke dissipated, a woman with ethereally gorgeous, long blonde hair appeared. Her ears pointed, giving a surefire hint at her heritage. Her clothing was identical to that of Guinevere's disguise. Meggan stood before Mordred and Betsy. The true Meggan. She looked around in sudden confusion before seeing her teammates. Her eyes widened, almost bringing her to tears as she began running towards them. Meggan called out their names, her demeanor and act just as Guinevere's disguise showed her to be, only Meggan seemed more real. 

Before Meggan could make any significant distance, she was sharply pulled back by an unseen force. She fell on her back, getting up slowly after that, sending scornful glares at Guinevere and pleading ones back at her teammates. She begged them to not trust the witch, which they already knew, but solidified that it was indeed Meggan.

Guinevere put a stop to her running and then talking with two similar motions. Her hand curled up into a fist, pulling her hand towards her, which pulled Meggan back. She curled her hand into a fist again to mute the young woman after. Releasing said fist resulted in Meggan being locked into place, essentially powerless to do anything at this time.

"Tsk, Tsk, Meggan. Know your place."

Convinced she had Mordred's and Betsy's attention now, Guinevere let out a displeasing sigh. She knew that the two would attack her at a moment's notice, which would be amusing to see, but would ultimately put a dent in the Dark One's own plans. 

"Now listen well, all of you. I was going to send you lot on a daring quest to save Mrs. Brian Braddock. However, I now find it more beneficial and, dare I say, dramatic to give you the stakes of what you're dealing with."

Guinevere finally turned towards Betsy properly. For the first time during their interaction, the Captain was acknowledged. The Dark One's voice had turned more sinister with her last few sentences already, but it became something akin to when she first revealed herself. Regal, determined, deep, almost breathy.

"I have put Meggan under a curse. She is tethered to me, as is her lifeforce. Strike me, have even an inkling of such intent in your step and she will die. Try to take her away and she will die. Try to remove the curse yourselves and she will die. And not only will she meet an untimely end, everyone connected to her family tree will perish as well. That means you, dear Captain, your brother, even sweet little Margaret. I'd say this qualifies exceedingly well as "dangling Meggan like a fucking carrot", wouldn't you O Captain, my Captain?"

Her voice did, however, ebb and flow as she spoke, taking on the more mischievous tones from before. But her underlying point was clear. If they doubted her power, they were welcome to try and call her bluff. In truth, Guinevere wasn't entirely certain whether it would harm Betsy or Brian lethally, considering their powers' source. Then again, she didn't need to be. The lives of Meggan and Maggie would likely be enough. And at this moment, Captain Britain nor Mordred would have any clear indication to her words being lies.

"If you wish to see your family unharmed, you will accept my offer, Mordred. Help me and I will remove the curse. I may be wicked, but I always hold up my end of a deal."

As she spoke of her promises to remove the curse if Mordred helped her, a scroll appeared in her left hand. It was a short scroll, not one indicative of a contract. Not yet, anyway. Rather, it was the scroll she pointed to as to show it was the method of removing said curse. Of course, it wasn't the real thing, merely a decoy to show she meant business. Her face betrayed nothing, but her meaning and intent were clear. They would do well than to underestimate the Darkness' reach.

"I wasn't planning on ramming this up your mind, love!"

Betsy was ready, primed to lunge at Guinevere, to stick the aforementioned psyonic blade into a place where eben the Dark One might not assume to shield... before dark smoke swirled, revealing the true figure of her sister-in-law and close friend. Betsy felt tears prick her eyes, her body beginning to shake as she felt her own emotional turmoil cresting like a wave amidst a storm. She went to move, a foot stepping forward, but stopping herself short. Even Betsy's mind told her that would be foolish. The Dark One wouldn't reveal her trump card if there wasn't something in place to stop them.

Sharp, harsh words leapt to Betsy's tongue, but as Guinevere spoke they died in her throat, like withered leaves in autumn. What could she say to that? Even a harsh word might harm not just Meggan, but her beloved brother, the tiny Margaret and even Jamie. Her jaw clamped shut, shutting her eyes tight as the Dark One spoke her promised.

"Rupert."

Her words were quiet, clipped, edged with what could be called defeat. Her arms went slack, and the Corps uniform dissipated from her form, leaving her standing looking small and shrunken. Betsy's knuckles were still paper-white, clenched hard and tight, shoulders shaking with rage that she couldn't expell. She turned her face upwards, eyes parting, and Rupert could see tears brimming there. Here was a place that Betsy couldn't fight her way out of. This had to be down to him.

"Rupert, please... do what you can. I'm sorry I can't be more help... that you have to shoulder yet another mistake that the Braddocks brought upon you... but please save them!"

Even behind the wet veil of frustrated grief, Rupert would see the anger raging like a wild beast behind her eyes. Betsy could do nothing right now, except seethe and roar and beat her chest as she screamed at nothing but the sky. Instead she stood, quiet and subdued, staring at her companion with pleading eyes.

"Please do everything you can!"

Rupert did not reply to Betsy's plea; there was little he could say to assure her. Instead, he replied with a nod before turning his attention to his "stepmother" again. He was very tempted to reply with a sarcastic comment on her choice of words but decided not to engage... he was NOT one to satisfy her with a reaction.

He made it a point not to look at Meggan; he was unsure if he could keep himself together if he did, and it was best not to tempt fate.

"Very well," he said before taking a few steps closer to The Dark One. "Let's just get thes over wit."

Rupert knew this would be more true down the road; whatever she planned to use with this light from him could NOT be good. But, not like he had any other choice... which made it all the more annoying.

The desperation of those embraced by light was a delectable meal. Guinevere would've remained right there, basking in the raw emotion they displayed, the cadence of their voices becoming so... innocent, making grand promises they had no way of ensuring. It was always one of the most enjoyable treats of her profession. Alas, this sticky sweet treat would have to be cut short. There was indeed work to be done.

But she couldn't resist egging Betsy on for a second longer.

"I'm eager to see what daring resolution you will attempt to reach. I have eyes on you, Captain dear."

Her tone was clearly mocking, drenched in disbelief. With that urge satisfied, Guinevere let out a short, wicked laugh while flicking her wrist. Three swirling columns of black smoke emerged underneath her, Mordred, and Meggan, taking them to the witch's next destination. This adventure was far from over and Mordred could only be a spectator to what else the Dark One had up her sleeves.

[continued in: The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter]