A Witch in King Arthur's Court -5-

A Witch In King Arthur's Court
A Stupidity in Magic Text Story
Text for August 11th 2003

    It was early afternoon when Octavia got back into the castle proper. She had been thinking while she was playing local tourist, about all the stories she’d read and the movies she’d seen about people going back in time, teaching them about modern music, trying to change things. The dark haired woman decided she wasn’t going to do that. Her being here was enough of a change, there would be no modern dace parties, save the elephant campaigns, or cheese burgers.
Her stomach growled, and she resolutely told it to shut the hell up. Even if she ate with the upper servants tonight (which she was hoping she could swing) chances were there would be enough food to stuff a goat. She could not get around how much these people ate on a daily basis, and all of it good, solid, whole food.
“Lady Octavia?” she nearly jumped out of her skin, then turned to see a pretty lady in waiting standing behind her.
The lady in waiting had brought her an invitation to Queen Gwenivere’s solar for some reason. Octavia took a moment to change back into the dress Willow had given her. She was starting to hate it a great deal, but it just didn’t seem the right thing to do to go and visit the queen of the realm in jeans.

     Gwenivere was sitting in a patch of sunlight, looking like some romantic era painting, embroidering a strip of trim. Ranged around her were more ladies, all embroidering, except for one, who was spinning what looked to be embroidery thread.
Octavia curtsied. It seemed like the right thing to do.
After a long moment of just staring at her, Gwenivere spoke. “I see you have been about Camelot today.”
“Uh... yes, it’s quite a nice place.”
“After having a bit of a scuffle with Sir Kay.”
“He started it.” Muttered Octavia, then cleared her throat. “I’d say it was a small disagreement, your majesty.
“Do women fight where you come from?” the blonde asked
“Try and stop us.” She smiled.
“And the men do not object?”
Octavia tucked a braid behind her ear, and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Honestly, some of them do. But some of them like it.” She smiled weakly. “Of course, when it comes down to any real danger then they’ll try to defend us anyway, but they like the idea that we can defend ourselves.”
“We are not helpless ourselves.” The queen said, turning on a smile that would make plants grow faster.
“Against the men where I’m from, you’d be surprised.” Octavia said weakly. “Though you might still have the power to bend men’s minds.”
Another small smile danced across the stunningly beautiful woman’s face. “Ah, Lady, Octavia, let us offer you a seat. You can tell us more about your homeland.”
‘oh _that_ would be a great idea.’ Thought Octavia, taking the seat offered. Outside, clouds billowed over the fields, getting darker and more stormy by the moment. Within the hour, a fierce storm had blown up, shaking the wondrous castle with its’ thunder, and darkening all the rooms to candlelight. After two hours grueling conversation, as Octavia desperately tried to make conversation without giving too much information about the future- or saying anything about her being from the future at all. They all seemed to think she was a moor- although off the top of her head, she wasn’t quite sure where Moors came from- just that they were dark skinned. A brief question gained her a thick cloak, which she wrapped around herself, and came out on to the parapets into the storm. The wind tore at her braids, and her visibility was ruined as rain pelted her glasses. She stumbled into the guard, and he grabbed her arm to keep her from going over the edge.
“You shouldn’t be out here, m’lady!” he yelled over the roar of the rain.
“I’m just trying to clear my head!” she called back. But the rain wasn’t helping, even though Octavia usually loved to stand in storms. It was as if all of her senses were being flooded out. She scrubbed her glasses off, and shook off the helpful hand of the sentry.
“This isn’t right!” she called. The dark skinned witch grasped the edge of the parapet, and extended her senses. It was hard, like pressing through a thick curtain. It was magic- magic had sent this storm. She could feel other people had come out onto the parapet behind her, but she began drawing energy up. This storm had been bound to this place, and considering how driving it was it wasn’t very likely it had been brought there for any good purpose. She threw off the now soaked and heavy wool cloak, and brought her hands together over her
head, gathering up energy from the world around her. The winds whipped around her making the wet silk of her sleeves strike her sharply about the shoulders and unraveling her braids. After a few long moments, she brought her hands down, and removed her ritual jewelry from the pouch there, and slipped it on her cold soaked fingers. Her skin immediately began tingling. Again she drew up energy. She twisted her mind through the storm’s energy flows.
‘oh- I’d love to be able to do this at home’ she thought, as she looked at the knot of magic that held the storm in it’s thrall. ‘The magic’s so much clearer here- I can touch it!’ her magical ‘hands’ touched the knot and began unwinding it. It took ages, and when the driving rain ceased to pound her body, she relaxed against the low stone wall in a soft patter of rain. Octavia let out a breath of relief. When someone draped a cloak over her- this one lined in fur, she jumped and turned. Unfortunately, having kept her eyes closed for so long, she’d forgotten the soaked state of her glasses, so she couldn’t see much, just a vague shape. She franticly wiped at her glasses with her fingers, and it revealed itself to be Sir Lancelot, holding the cloak on her shoulders with a hand. She recoiled a bit in surprise, but her shock wasn’t over yet. King Arthur was also there, wearing a very waterproof looking cloak.
“Truly, Lady Octavia, you are a great sorceress.” He said, with a smile. “I could tell that this storm came out of season, but you-“he shook his head.
“She’s soaked, Your Highness.” Lancelot said. “Perhaps, the Lady would like to change.”
“I’m okay it’s just...” Octavia stumbled again, this time into the broad shouldered knight. “A little cold.” She amended.
“Of course, you must warm up.” They led her out of the still slowing rain shower. At some point the afternoon had ended and it was truly dark now, the halls lit with torches that burned surprisingly steadily. She was put into the care of some servants, and brought a hot toddy, which if nothing else warmed her. Then she was brought a tray of food, and left blessedly alone.

       Octavia was re-plaiting her hair when a sound caught her attention. It was a soft padding and scratching- and then, without warning, one of the tapestries moved aside. She grabbed at her purse trying to find something, anything that could be used as a weapon- she lowered the satchel when the person emerging proved to be- King Arthur himself.
“I… uh…” She looked around and wondered how far up this room was, because going out the window was looking pretty appealing at that moment.
“Please accept my apologies for my most unorthodox entry to your chamber, Lady Octavia.”
“Uh… it’s your castle, your Highness.” She tucked her robe more firmly around herself.
“Ah…” he smiled faintly, and shook his head. “I wished to tell you that I was quite impressed. Rarely have I seen such a show of magic.”
“But with Merlin at your court…” she suddenly stopped. “Why didn’t he do anything? He should have been able to sense the magic storm coming.”
“Ah…” Again the king shook his head, this time a trifle sadly. “You see, m’lady, that is the other problem. To be honest, Lady Octavia, I was hoping with your great powers, that you could find Merlin.”
“Merlin’s missing?” Octavia said, raising her eyebrow.
“Aye. He left a simulacrum so that none would know, but he disappeared several weeks agone, to deal with Morgana Le Fey.”
“Oh.” The dark haired woman was conversant enough in Arthurian legends to know who that was. She covered her mouth. “Is that why…?”
“He said that should he not return, someone would appear to save him.” Arthur gave a wry smile. “I do not fathom the ways of wizards, dark lady, but it is all I can believe that you are that one. Certainly you are from no place I know, with your strange ways and powers.”
Octavia smiled faintly, and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re too kind, your Majesty.”
“Thank _you _ most kindly, Lady. Please consider taking up this quest. I fear for the safety of the roundtable while Merlin is gone- ye you a good and all for the light, despite your dusky appearance- but who can say the next magicker that comes shall be as good?”
“I will think on it.” She said rubbing her temples.
“Thankthee again.” The king left the same way he came.
Octavia put her head in her hands and sighed deeply. “You know you’re in trouble.” She said to no one in particular. “When you find yourself asking ‘what would Willow do?’” She had to laugh, and began re-plaiting her hair. “Willow would do it.”

      There was a dress in about her size waiting for her the next morning. Apparently, her silk was still drying- and they did not want a repeat of her appearance in jeans. A bit before noon, a servant came and brought her to a great hall, on the walls of which hung swords and shields. And in the center of that room was a great circular table. Around the edge of it were chairs, and in many of the chairs sat knights of various ages and builds. They were discussing something loudly, until Arthur looked up, and hailed Octavia.
“Ah, she has come.”
“Your Highness?” she curtsied.
“Last night I asked for you to take up a quest for me.”
“a quest! She’s not even a knight!”
“don’t say that, he’s got the look-“
The conversation bubbled up again with more objections along those lines, until the king held up his hand in a forbearing way.
“This is a quest which one of you may undertake on your own, my knights.” He said. “As it is magical in nature- now, M’lady, will you take up this quest?”
“I…” Octavia looked around the room, and pictured staying in Camelot for the rest of her life. At least if she did this, she would be able to see more of the world- and might be able to do some good. “I will.” There was another vague murmur of distress and confusion went through the assembled knights.
“I will send one of my knights with you.” Arthur said, looking much relived behind his beard. It was obvious he’d been worried she would refuse. “Now, who will volunteer?” the hall was silent for a moment, then a dark haired figure stood.
“I shall, my king.” He looked to be in his late teens, well muscled, with just the faintest beginnings of a mustache.
“Young Galahad?” said Arthur, surprised. “You will accompany Lady Octavia?”
“My king.” He nodded, and he looked over at Octavia, who had to look away.
The young knight had a very intense gaze. She was glad, once again, that her skin was dark enough not to show blushes easily.
“My lord King-“ Burst out Sir Kay. “Are you sure that it is wise to send such an impressionable youth with the witch?”
“Would you go in his place?” asked the king.
“Nay- I say that she should stay here, while we keep an eye on her.”
“And she says she must go do this!” Thundered the king. “I say we shall give her support Sir Kay. So, as the lady has said ‘Bug off’”
‘So much for not changing things.’ She thought, biting her lip. She shifted uncomfortably in place as Sir Kay glared daggers at her.
“When will you leave?” asked the king.
"Whenever you need me to." she responded 'it can't possibly be soon enough'

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""Whenever you need me to." she responded 'it can't possibly be soon enough' "

"The winds whipped around her making the wet silk of her sleeves strike her sharply about the shoulders and unraveling her braids."