The lady of the lake

Artie finally snapped.

"Stop it! Stop torturing me! I am not going to pull the sword out!" The wind whipped through the clearing, rustling every leaf, branch, and tree in sight. Artie felt the touch of the wind like the caress of a hand. 

"You said it yourself my dear. Fates shouldn't be played with." The voice that spoke came from nowhere. There wasn't a soul in sight, and the voice was unsettling. It didn't sound like one person speaking, but instead several whispers blended together until it was strong enough to speak as one. 

"It wasn't my fate to be stabbed. I refuse to believe that shit. And it wasn't my fate to be wherever this is." 

"It was your fate to be a King in your time, and what your friend did was unexpected. So the fates decided to interfere this once. It is no harm to take someone who was about to die to fill in the spot of someone who has died." Honestly, Artie wasn't expecting the voice to respond. She was hoping it was an illusion, a prank played by her stressed body. The fact she heard the unsettling voice again did not bring comfort, but at least it answered one thing. She was brought here to fill a gap. That only made her angry. 

"I was not meant to be anything like a King in my time. I'm just me." 

"Did you or did you not hear the voices of your colleagues singing your praises?"

"They were just trying to butter me up before getting into trouble. They never meant it." Artie protested, a little overwhelmed by the fact she was arguing with the wind while holding onto the holy sword of legend. Layered laughter filled the air, and she tried not to wince. It wasn't a pleasant sound. 

"My dear, we can assure you that they were serious. You weren't going to die in your time because the second we took you, they burst into the apartment to save you. Half of them saw you being taken by us." Artie felt her whole body freeze. They had witnessed her being taken? Oh my god. Oh my god. Then they knew that she was missing, but they couldn't do anything about it? "Their trust and belief in you made you a great general in your time. You did a lot of the grunt work so that they were able to complete their jobs easily, and on time. They saw you for what you were, a leader. Your Boss was planning to start integrating you into his work so that you could take over for him in a few years. Your fate in your time was to be a just King who had the love and respect of those you protected. You will do the same here." As much as it was a spirit or ghost of some kind, Artie didn't care. She hated the tone they were using. They were being incredibly presumptuous that she would do whatever they said all because they pulled her here. They had admitted she wouldn't have died, so they had stolen her from her time. They had assumed that she was going to die. They had been wrong. Artie could feel the laughter welling up inside of her, and knew it was slightly hysterical. 

"You can't just demand someone to be your champion. That's not how it works anymore."

"You are not going to be our champion, we are just the guardian of the sword. You are going to be their champion." A harsh wind blew through the clearing, and Artie had to close her eyes against it. When she opened them she found herself not in the clearing anymore and she stumbled. What the hell? What she saw before her made her gag reflex activate. Bodies covered the lands before her. Rotting, decaying corpses piled up around what used to be forests and rolling hills. Soldiers, children, women, all laid out disrespectfully. 

The scene changed quickly, turning into the burning landscape of a small village. Clothes, toys, wooden accessories tossed out of the homes. Blood splattered all over the ground. Animals slaughtered and the wailing of innocents filling the air. 

The scene changed again and this time it was a fat man dressed in 'regal' attire who was whipping a small female child's back. His mustache made Artie want to hurl as she clenched her fists in anger. She knew things like this had happened no matter the time period, but it was different when she saw it like this. The child was crying for their parents, and several maids and soldiers stood by, their own eyes dead as they let the 'noble' continue to hurt the child. Artie's whole body vibrated. When she was sucked out of that scene, she noticed something different. The spirits or whatever led her back through the house, away from the tiny room filled with pain. Through a narrow, dark stone hallway, out and there was a slow zoom in on the panel that would activate the tiny hallway. The room on the other side was an opulent bedroom, and made Artie's skin crawl. It stank of the wealth one acquired while walking all over others. Artie didn't know much, but she knew some things, like how purple wasn't a common colour in nature, and therefore hard to have for fabrics. This room was covered in purple, and there were hooks on the wall for children sized collars. 

"You are a creature of justice." The voices whispered as Artie continued to look around her in horror and disgust. "You cannot stand for these injustices. So what are you going to do? Are you going to allow it to happen? Or will you be the one to step in and fix it?" 

"I-I can be a knight and fix it that way!" Laughter filled the air and Artie winced. 

"Knights serve their King. Do you really want us to have to pass the sword and crown to another? You know Mordred is a threat already, and as much as he is a child, he has big dreams. The sword doesn't hate him." Artie clenched her jaw at the way they spoke about Mordred. He wasn't meant for the throne. He'd crumble. Artie glared at the air around her. 

"You can't do that. He's not ready for something like that, even if Morgan wants that for him." Laughter filled the air again and Artie frowned. It felt like they were making fun of her. 

"So you are going to let someone else handle the noble you saw? What about the women and children? Are you willing to let them go? Let someone else handle it?" Artie felt her hand flex around the sword. 

"Is that nobleman from here? Does he live nearby?" She asked, and the wind whipped around her again. 

"He does. He's a trusted advisor. That room is just off his bedroom, and no one suspects it from him. He's a good man, and he's adopted so many children into his home after they lost their parents." Artie wanted to throw up.

"So you wanted to throw a kid into the political world and force him to deal with that? He wouldn't have known what to do, and Morgan would have pushed him around unintentionally." Nevermind the fact that Lady Morgan had no love for the crown and what it had done to her family. Artie was sure that part of the reason she wanted Mordred to get the crown was so she could enact her revenge. Another caress from the wind.

"Morgan knows better than to do that. She has her contracts, her bonds. Her magic is powerful, but it isn't as if you don't have a pure claim to the throne either, Artie." Artie froze.

"What?" She asked, confused, but a sinking, knowing feeling filling her up. 

"You share the same line, you and Morgan. You both come from her Mother's side, meaning you are her descendent. It was quite humourous that your parents did not name you Morgan, and instead chose her brother. Your Mother knew of your lineage too. One of our own had told her before you were even conceived." Artie felt her legs begin to shake, the influx of knowledge making her head spin. She was somehow related to Lady Morgan? Why had her Mother never said anything about it? Was that why her Mother had always been interested in Arthurian legends?

"You tried to influence my Mother!" Artie protested and the voices laughed. Artie's dress whipped around her as she glared up at the sky. 

"It was not we. Our job is to watch the sword and to watch over those who wield it. We only get gossip and glimpses from the future from others. Now, what are you going to choose? Are you going to let the sword fall into someone else's hands which are not suited to the burden of the responsibility, or are you going to take the sword into your own hands, correcting the crimes that are unforgivable?"

"Just shut up! Stop trying to influence my decisions! I already told you I am not going to pull the sword out!" 

"Who are you yelling at?" Lancelot's sharp voice cut through everything and Artie spun on her heel to face him. It turned out he wasn't alone, and all of the round table knights, Lady Morgan, and Lady Guinevere were here as well. Artie could feel the colour draining from her face as she looked over the crowd who had found her, hand on the holy sword, after she had just announced she had no interest in the holy sword. She tried to open her fingers, to take her hand away from the sword, and to her horror found she couldn't open them at all. Desperate, she yanked her hand, trying to pull it loose and found that she couldn't. Rage welled inside of her. The spirits wanted her to answer, out loud. That fucking bitch. 

"I, uh, you couldn't hear them?" Artie fumbled her way through the words, still heavily distracted by trying to remove her hand. Lancelot looked her over, before shaking his head with a sigh. 

"There is no one here but you. We came looking when the maids said a deranged woman was around the holy sword. I had a feeling it was you." How rude. Artie narrowed her eyes at the knight, but didn't say anything against it. How could she? She felt just as ridiculous when she had done it too. Lady Morgan noticed around this time that Artie was trying to remove her hand. She incorrectly assumed that she was trying to pull the sword out. She narrowed her eyes, before scoffing. 

"You of all people can't pull the sword out, so don't bother trying." Artie gave her a smile, trying to be diplomatic since she would have assumed the same thing if the roles had been reversed. She was about to answer when the wind brushed past her. 

"Prove her wrong. Pull the sword out. Make her swallow those words."

"That isn't what I am doing, Lady Morgan. I am simply trying to remove my hand from the hilt. It appears to be stuck." That was apparently the wrong thing to say because Lancelot started moving towards Artie, drawing his sword as he moved. His face was grim and the other knights seemed shocked at his actions. 

"I can help you with that." He declared and panic began to set inside of her. He raised his sword, and reflexively, Artie's hand clamped around the sword and she raised her hands to cover her face, pulling the sword out at the same time. Lancelot paused his movements at the last second, as shock covered everyone's faces, including Arties. Laughter filled the air, and Artie was sure that this time everyone could hear it. The looks of awe, shock and fear proved to her that they did. 

"Bravo our Little One! We didn't think that Lancelot would be the one to make you do it, but everyone is allowed a certain amount of freedom. We believe you will do your best." Immediately after a large wind gust blew through the clearing and hair and clothes were tossed every which way. Artie, still shocked, stared at the others, while Lancelot dropped his sword and got onto his knees before her. 

"Forgive me. I meant only to aid your plight!" Shock and horror filled her. 

"Sir Lancelot, I'm not upset." Artie stated, locking him in as Sir Lancelot given his behaviour. When he didn't react negatively, she was pleased to find that she'd been correct in her guess. "I will get you, you damn Lady of the Lake!" Artie whispered quietly, hoping to hear something in response like before, but nothing changed. Not even a gust of wind. Lady Guinevere and Lady Morgan looked just as pale as Artie felt. Then, the knights who had been standing in shock, followed Sir Lancelot's example and fell to their knees before Artie. Artie noticed that Sir Percy's shoulders seemed to be shaking. 

"My King, we have waited anxiously for you to arrive." Lancelot started and Artie felt the world tilt at those few words. One of the knights must have known that something strange was going to happen, since they got up from their kneeling position and caught her before even Lancelot could react. He wrapped his arms around her to support her as Artie's vision swam. 

"Careful Sire. You are still badly wounded." The knight warned, and Artie did not appreciate the sudden change in behaviour and address. But, she did appreciate the help standing. Artie realised that this hold felt familiar, and that he was the knight who had prevented her from being crushed when Lady Morgan had entered the round table room before. He was the knight of Asian descent. He kept his hair long and worn in a wooden clasp at the base of his neck. His eyes were an unusual shade of brown. Very bright, almost amber-like. He noticed that Artie was staring at him and he ducked his head. 

"Forgive me, Sire. Would you like another to hold you? I know my looks can be upsetting." Artie frowned, waving her free hand to dismiss it. 

"That's not it. I've seen lots of people like you back at my home, but it's the colour of your eyes that are interesting to me. They are a very interesting shade. I haven't seen a shade like that when the sun hasn't been hitting them. They're very pretty." Artie offered with a smile, and the knight blushed. Sir Percy laughed. 

"Sire, you've made Kay blush! Please be kind to his delicate disposition." Artie could tell that Kay was glaring at Sir Percy over her shoulder from the way that Sir Percy's face lit up.