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Right as halftime starts, the teams and audience’s movements are interrupted by the stadium lights turning off and the announcer speaking, “Just in time for half time, here it comes folks, right on schedule. A lunar eclipse and a meteor shower at the same time!”
Everyone looks skyward at the impressive light show of hundreds of meteors burning up green in the atmosphere in front of the moon, which has turned red with total eclipse.
Some few gazes, however, are not turned up, but watching, scanning with baited breath for the other event prophesied for this day. The prophecy of King Arthur returning, and of Mordred trying to destroy him before Arthur realizes who he is.
In particular, there are two scholar parents sitting two rows back from their daughter who are at different levels of anticipation as they try to catch anything amiss.
The daughter and her friend beside her are also watching carefully for a figure, Marco- who they know to be coming after his step brother, William- to try to destroy him as the reincarnation of King Arthur.
Within the darkness they were just thrust into, they can just barely make out the field, but when they see a figure run past them down the stands, the two friends look to each other before making chase.
Allie, the blonde girl, can’t quite believe that Marco- Mordred- would try something all the way out here in front of a whole stadium of people, but they can’t sit back and let him kill William.
“Marco!” She shouts after he jumps from the stadium and doesn’t stop.
She follows without hesitation, but Miles, the scrawny black haired friend, is stalled by struggling to get down safely.
That leaves her ahead as she reaches Marco, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder, “I’m not going to let you-”
“Get out of my way, I’m trying to save him!” Marco snaps back, shaking the hand off.
“What are you talking about? You’re here to kill him!” Allie shouts back, confused. Her confusion grows as she looks to what’s in his hand and discovers a plastic sword, illuminated by the faint flames in the sky.
William comes over quickly, seeing his friend and step brother shouting at each other, “what’s going on here?”
“He’s trying to kill you, he’s come here to get revenge!” She says quickly, whipping her head to William.
“What-” William looks beyond confused.
“No, you’re wrong! I’m not Mordred, I’m trying to PROTECT him from Mordred! Will, take this-” Marco says, and tries to hand the plastic sword to William, when suddenly he’s shot back by an unknown force, dropping the dingy toy sword on the ground. Those on the field start paying active attention at the light and thud, some moving closer in interest.
“He’s right, he’s not Mordred”, they turn and are surprised to see none other than Mr. Moore walking toward them with a dark smile, his cane turning into a dark staff with a dragon head at the top, “I am”.
Allie watches with confusion and shock, “b- you? But I-” she stumbles over her words, looking at Miles who is just as confused, to Marco who starts to pick himself painfully off the ground.
“I was trying to gain his trust”, Marco grunts, sitting up and pulling out an iron coat of arms from under his shirt, “I’m part of the Order of the Bear, like my father. I am trying to protect Will”.
While Allie grapples with this new reality, William speaks up, “wait, what are you talking about? What’s going on?”
Before Allie can answer him, Mr. Moore enunciates with a malevolent grin, “what’s happening, Will, is that you are the reincarnation of King Arthur, and I’m here to kill you”.
He raises his staff, and before anyone can even voice a protest Allie runs in front and takes the blow of the blast, knocking her into William and both onto the ground with a groan.
The cheerleaders scream and take a step back to the track at the display of power, but Jen is frozen in shocked confusion.
“And you-” he approaches Allie with an angry growl “-need to stop getting in my way”. As he walks, dark armor seems to melt itself onto his form. That makes even the football players gasp and step back in alarm, but Mordred only has eyes for his current target.
Quickly picking herself up with a strength she didn’t know she had, her eye catches on the plastic sword, lit by the last of the meteors above burning away, and picks it up, “I will not let you hurt him.” Her sword is feeble, but her glare is strong.
Mordred looks at the pathetic bent plastic with a laugh, “and what exactly are you going to do to me with a plastic sword?”
Overhead, the meteors have depleted and the red hue of the moon has started to leave as the eclipse starts to end.
This means that the entire audience has finally looked down, the announcer starting to say something about halftime officially starting, but is cut off by what happens next on the field. All eyes are watching as the sword within Allie’s sturdy grip starts to glow with ethereal light as it transforms into the legendary sword Excalibur.
“What- why did that”, Allie’s eyes widen as she sees the glorious sword in the moonlight.
“Any sword in King Arthur’s hands will become Excalibur”, Miles mutters beside her, and she turns her wild gaze to him for a second before looking at the sword in wonder.
“No, that’s impossible”, Mordred spits.
But it’s not. As she gazes at the beautiful blade her life slides into place, like the final piece of the puzzle.
All those dreams she’s had her whole life. The way she had intrinsic knowledge about Arthurian lore, even to the point she’d corrected her parents.
Her gaze hardens as she spins the sword, testing the familiar weight with soul deep muscle memory, like greeting an old friend. And old friend it is.
As she slips easily into a defensive position, she almost can’t believe she forgot- but maybe she never even did. Her memories of the past as certain now as her whole life in this century, voice not faltering as she faces Mordred once more.
“I am Arthur”.
Three simple words are like a domino effect as everyone’s life’s fall into place.
Everyone still close, Lance, Jennifer, Miles, even William and the other football players, regain memories of their last life.
A life of Camelot. Of Albion.
In the next few seconds, time moves rapidly. Quicker than the audience can do more than murmur.
First, Mordred steps forward with a scowl, raising his staff.
Arthur raises her sword in turn, but is surprised when he turns his spell onto the opposing team that has been watching in equal confusion.
The spell captures their minds, the same style of black armor that Mordred wears melts onto their forms, along with swords and shields to boot.
Then Merlin steps forward, quickly casting his own spell, not needing the help of a staff, simply raising his hand and the Avalon High football team and Allie have their own, glorious silver shining armor form onto them. With the weapons of their own.
While the knights get their bearings and face the approaching enemies, Mordred growls, and starts to turn toward the audience, but Merlin acts first.
He gathers his power before summoning a dome around them, protecting everyone outside of it, while keeping them trapped inside. He makes sure to leave the defenseless cheerleaders just outside the bubble.
Arthur observes the magic in amazement, feeling the magic spark over her before the scenery completely changes around them, into a different- but familiar- landscape.
She doesn’t know whether it is an illusion, or something else, but just like in her dreams she’s been plagued by, she sees a beach. As sunny as Albion could get, but bright like day nonetheless. The sound and feel of the cool breeze and ocean waves spraying salt into the air makes her almost think the spell was teleportation. But no, looking past the facade (was it a facade?) she can just barely see past the dome to the real world. The image of outside is warped, with many protections, Arthur is sure.
Now is not the time to ask, however, as Mordred is rapidly approaching, sand kicking from under his feet as his face twists in anger.
Armies and destined enemies clash.
Each spell he launches is easily blocked with Excalibur, the magical sword cutting and deflecting the attacks away.
She grits her teeth, keeping her stance balanced, steady as a mountain facing the wind.
When he gets close enough he swings, staff meeting sword.
Sword sweeps and blocked.
A turn and jab dodged.
The battlefield a blur of metal and sparks flying, sharp sounds ringing out across the space and all around them.
Weaving and dodging. Brute force and precision.
He launches another attack of magic, a ball of fire from the mouth of the dragon, and she again blocks it with the sword.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouts, reminding him, “your staff!”
Merlin turns and, yeah, that staff Mordred is wielding is his.
Turning his focus he mutters his spell, “to the owner of the staff return! The evil hand that holds it burn!” The ancient language familiar on his tongue.
Mordred exclaims in pain as his tight grip on the staff turns to coals, letting go. The staff then rises high and flies back to its rightful owner.
As soon as he grabs the staff it transforms back into its sleek light brown color, the dragon on top turning into a majestic iron lion.
He smiles as he feels the power of his old companion back. Even if he doesn’t need its assistance to guide his magic, it feels good back in his hands.
Mordred, pissed he lost the main thing giving him his power, unsheathes the sword at his hip, going for a wide swing.
She blocks it, and almost stumbles at his momentum, but she holds her position with gritted teeth.
“Why are YOU Arthur? I thought you might be the Lady of the Lake, but Arthur?” She steps and he takes the opportunity to kick her feet out from under her, “Arthur shouldn’t be a girl!”
She quickly spins away from the sword jabbing toward her chest, getting her feet back under her, “I think we’re past what should be”, she lands a hit on his back, making him stumble, sand shifting beneath him.
“Why are you doing this?” She shouts, demanding.
Back in the time of her demise, she never got a full explanation of why someone she thought of as a brother in arms betrayed her like this. Then again it wasn’t the only betrayal she’d faced back then.
Thanks to all the books of the story that she’s been exposed to via her parents, she has some kind of idea, but it isn’t the full story. Not only are there so many different versions of the story, due to all the different authors over the millennia, but none of them give a solid explanation of his motivations.
That’s a big part of medieval literature, as her parents have talked all about. It never really gave a lot of character motivations. The way they wrote back then was more like they were writing history, telling of the actions taken but leaving the motivations and thoughts of the characters to the audience listening or reading.
What this all leads to is an incomplete story that just leaves her frustrated trying to unravel it.
She needs a proper explanation.
Mordred regains his footing and runs at her again.
Through their swords clashing she continues to shout, “I thought we were brothers in arms! I trusted you, why did you betray me?” A particularly vicious attack has her take a step back but she holds their swords together, “why do you attack me still? What did I do to you?”
The last sentence is almost frantic, but she keeps herself together as she stares back defiantly at the venom in his glare.
“Don’t you know what you did?” He leans in, questioning quietly, the gentleness causing her whiplash. He’s just close enough that she could make it out over the clanging sounds of the other knights in their own fights.
These two- however- are honed in on each other.
He pushes away from the close proximity, letting loose powerful swing after powerful swing, the sparks of their swords almost flames, forcing Arthur to take a step back with each attack just to keep up to the ceaseless wrath. No doubt some magic is assisting.
“Why don’t you think a little bit about WHAT you might have done”, he roars, his face an ugly twist and spit flying from his mouth in his shout.
“After all!” Another swing, another step. “Thanks to your parents I’m sure you could piece together the TRUTH”. She’s getting close to the end of this dome.
The swing is blocked and she once again locks their swords together, arms straining under the pressure of the long persisting fight but still she keeps her arms steady. She may not be a King and knight in this life, but that doesn’t mean she’ll buckle yet.
It’s possible this spell Merlin put up even brings everyone to the full strength of their past lives. She certainly couldn’t have put up a fight for this long in this body, no matter how much cardio she does with Track.
She huffs in frustration, refusing to show any weakness or fatigue, “there are so many stories Mordred! How am I supposed to piece it together when I don’t know what is true and what is made up by those born half a millenia after Camelot?!”
He tries to push her back again but she beats him to it, returning the angry blows with her own calculated- but still forceful- ones.
“And besides the point”, she breathes, swings. He steps back, “what is so awful that it deserves a grudge lasting to the next life?”
She’s shouting now, not letting him leave the defensive or get in a word edgewise, “it was a millenia and a half ago Mordred! Why is this worth it? You have a whole life here, why can’t you just let go of the past and accept it?”
With each step she’s bringing them closer to the other knights, who have almost finished off all the magically enslaved knights. Not killed, of course, but simply knocked out.
This means that the knights are finally able to actually catch the conversation of the two destined fighters.
The strength that Allie- their King- shows assures any rolling unease in their minds.
“Holding onto this anger-” swing, step “-is only going to cause you nothing but pain!” Swing, step, “I have loved and respected you in both lives,” swing, step, “why won’t you just let yourself be HAPPY?”
A swing and a kick and Mordred is knocked prone, sword going flying. Before he can do more than prop himself on his elbows Excalibur presses down on his chest plate in warning.
“It doesn’t have to be like this Mordred”, she says, gentle herself now, even through the deep breaths they are taking.
And then there’s silence.
The last of the darkened knights taken out, everyone watches the two with bated breaths.
Only the wind blowing through Arthur’s hair can be heard while the two destined enemies stare at each other.
Her steady, kingly gaze, versus his stubborn one.
After their eyes are locked for what seems like hours with the tension in the air, it seems he sees something and he sighs, slumping back down into the sand.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
She considers this for a moment, before moving her sword away, “if this is about the ship, I never intended for it to sink”.
“Yeah”, Merlin spoke up, finally approaching now that it seems the fighting has stopped, “we never wanted to kill the children. When I had a vision of it sinking it was already too late to save it”.
Arthur looks down in grim guilt.
It had pained her then to know about all those children dying, but it was still her idea. Back then, Merlin had a vision, a prophecy of a child born in May that would be Arthur’s downfall, destined to kill him and bring Camelot to ruin. Arthur had only hoped to send them to live a life further off, but instead, the ship that held the children sunk. Now, in this life, as Allie, she realizes that it was a truly idiotic thing to do. How she could have dared to separate all those children from their mothers, their family, in the first place.
Knowing that it really happened, and remembering it was her fault, she almost feels sick.
Another thing that makes her feel sick, “I also didn’t know about Morgause at all, let alone that-” she cuts herself off with a grimous.
Back in the sixth century all the hardships that they faced were much more outrageous than they are now. Trying to consolidate all of them in the twenty-first century is difficult.
This part of the Arthurian legends always brought her the most dis-ease. The truth of who she is sours the tale infinitely.
It was just that: the way that her parents so casually talked about how Arthur’s half sister seduced- depending on the author- him never sat right with her. There were even some stories that said she did that on purpose, maybe specifically to have someone to fight for her.
Was Mordred’s entire existence simply to destroy her?
Is it possible Morgause even knew the prophecy before Merlin did?
Before that thought can send her into a spiral, Mordred speaks again.
“Well you’re right about one thing”, he grunts as he sits up, “it was a long time ago.”
Her gaze on the sand she pursed her lips, brows furrowing. “I don’t really care much about all those prophecies and destinies anymore”. She looks down to him, “I like to believe we can choose our own fates”, she offers a hand, “if you’ll have me?”
Mordred hesitates, looking from her kind, hopeful gaze, to the outstretched hand.
Whatever thoughts that turn in his mind, they settle as he reaches out and accepts it, letting her pull him up with surprising strength for a 16 year old girl.
She beams at him and he can’t help the shy smile he gives back, and he huffs, “I can’t believe I couldn’t tell YOU were Arthur.”
At that she laughs brightly, “yeah, and here I thought all my Arthurian dreams were just due to my parent’s obsession”.
He laughs along too, more certain of himself.
While the two laugh, the rest around them are still weary.
“So”, Merlin decides to speak up, looking between the two, “you’re NOT gonna try and kill her anymore?”
Arthur wants to scold him, but she does hesitate, and look at Mordred expectantly.
“I, well-” he rubs the back of his neck, looking down, “-a lot of the things I was angry about seems to be an accident, or at least she’s guilty about”, he looks at her and she resists the urge to look away.
“And you’re right”, he says, to her this time, “it was a really long time ago”.
“Yeah, I’d say fifteen hundred years is a bit long to hold a grudge,” Merlin snarks, causing Arthur to give him The Look, the one she uses every time he utilizes his blunt sarcasm. “What? I’m right”, he says, not sorry at all.
She just smiles and shakes her head.
“And speaking about how long it was”, he continues, “it’s been about that long since I’ve used magic, so if there’s gonna be no more stabbing or maiming attempts, can I stop maintaining this spell?” He indicates the dome around them.
“Oh yeah”, Arthur nods, suddenly serious, “you can drop it now”.
He sighs, “great”, and like that the armor and image starts to dissipate, the semi-sunny English beach melting back to a dark football field. Well, not completely dark, as it seems the stadium lights have been turned back on while they were fighting.
Allie looks over at the stadium to see the whole crowd that was there the entire time go from dead silent, to cheering.
Wide eyed, she turns to Miles, “were they able to see that whole thing?”
“Um,” his eyes dart between everyone looking at him with different levels of incredulity, “yeah, it would’ve been clear from the outside”.
Allie groans, throwing her head back in frustration, “Miles, what are we going to say about that?”
“Play it off?” Lance suggests, stepping closer.
“Oh yeah, just play off an intense show of magical power and a knightly battle, that sounds reasonable,” Merlin deadpans.
People start coming down from the stands as they argue over what to do or say.
“No Miles, you can’t enchant everyone’s memory!” Will exclaims with a crack in his voice.
“Well, actually I could”.
Allie chuckles as she looks toward the stands and catches familiar blonde hair next to a bald head and she groans again, “uuugh, my parents are going to be INSUFFERABLE”, she despairs.
Mr. Moore snickers, patting her shoulder in fake sympathy, “I think that’s the best revenge I could get,” he winks, walking toward those approaching with questions he says over his shoulder, “I’ll take care of this!”
That stops the arguing still going on as they see him move without so much as a limp- the bastard really didn’t need the cane. He kindly explains how this was all his class and something of the other, but it was perfectly safe and merely performative. He uses some magic himself to sell the story and make them forget about the major magical displays, with Miles helping.
Allie’s parents- on the other hand- see right through all the explanations, faces in a knowing smug grin. Her mother is especially smug, her father still in disbelief that everything was real. When everyone takes their seats to continue the game, still, they are giving their kid a proud smile.
She huffs, leaning forward in fond exasperation.
The time for a conversion will be later, for now, there’s a football game to win.