Part 09 - A Coil of Snakes

I was there.

When Elayne the hand-maiden was made queen for a night, I was there.

As always, there's a long and circuitous set of excitements before any event I tell. One of these days I'll learn to tell a story quick, and make it flow fast like clear water in a stream. But where's the fun in that, all over before it begins and nothing to guess, nothing to remember, nothing to forget? Catch me quick, hoolah, hoolay! I'd rather take all day.

It was simple, this: Lilith first queen of the land more true, by Artur's side as his spy, his hide, her slaughter more bloody than poor Miryamme could ever know. She, poor girl, with her eyes of innocent blue and the straw doll by her side, she could not match the fierce love Lilith gave her father, but stayed sweet innocence, his virgin queen.

Artur still needed his little queen though, and after battle 'twas always the same. He would go to Miryamme's chamber, and whisper sweet words in her ear, and the poor creature would sleep so deep, her little back curled against the king's belly, her skin so smooth it glowed under the silver moon. I could unknot a string, and Emmy and Elayne sleep too, not chasing the poor lamb with her frightened bleat every night.

"Her innocence reminds me, Maer, why I fight the scum from the east." Sworn to De Grance, more like.

Lancilet the prince was accommodated for his care of the queen, for Rednock would take the king's big red horse and Lilith's grey, and break up a sweat huge and hot and his muscles all bulging, curry them down with a brush. Young Lancilet would creep by with a pail and a cloth, and wash the big man down like his own beast, and service the groom with his mouth or his ass, depending on the groom's inclination and how far the horses had run.

The queen didn't always dally and watch, but Emmelyne and Elayne did regularly look. "You said to keep an eye on the prince, Maer, and report all proper and full." Emmy winked, and lifted up her skirts.

"I did, Em," I replied; and found my own need to check the carpenter's work remained solid and straight in the loft. It did, straight and solid into Emmy's helpful wet cunt, while she made sure the balustrade held firm, holding on. That carpenter fellow must have been careless, his work so often needing a check.

In truth, one of my best designs, that stable. Very good sight lines, even if I say so myself.

And Lilith, what she? She would regularly to my chamber come. "Tell me of Nym Nymue, Maer, and Morgayne my mother." She'd look at me with her father's eyes, and insist I tell her destinies and histories, so she could see how the land's women circled around her father and held him safe and made him king. "He's my father, Maer, no woman loves him more."

Truth tell, I believed her. But her birth caul all hidden: I always remembered her tiny baby body covered in it, which Emmy washed away, and I wondered what it meant. I knew Nym Nymue couldn't see Lilith when she turned away, which struck me odd. Surely a portent or two, a spark from a fire or guts from a stoat, something at least, to tell Lilith's truth? She'd look at me with her deep, clear eyes, and tell me where the waters ran.

So the court was made, and prospered a little, and the land settled into a winter. Artur heard tell from merchants and captains that his last message, the six young men sent back in their ship, had impressed the heathen king and made him pause. My ears, better at skulking between the lines, heard tell that they really feared what dragen women would do; and by all accounts, once the whispering was finished, Lilith the new queen was as tall as ten men, grown naked from the rock.

"Their stupid imaginations do you no harm, rumours of giants walking the land. Gogmagog and his bride." I grinned at the king, my friend. "I never knew you were so tall, sire. You hide your height well. You look no taller to me than an average man."

"Seems true, Maer, a useful ploy." Artur looked across at Lilith his daughter who sat making arrows. "But they'll be back, those boatmen. There'll be more blood to wash from our hands, it's not over for us yet."

"There are always deep rivers, father, to cleanse ourselves of blood," said Lilith. "We need to prepare ourselves, train more men, be not afraid."

"I'm not afraid, Lilith, just wary. Weary too, but I hide it."

Ah me, the look in Lilith's eye when he said it.

Lilith made bring an inkster with his woad all black and blue, and made him tattoo a curling twine of a snake on her naked body and that of her father, and it was cleverly made, that encirclement. For when they held themselves just so, and pressed tight hard against each other with their naked arms all around, the body of the snake was one continuous coil around them, made as of one joined creature. And so Artur and his daughter made it clear, and peril to those who doubted, that these two were king and queen for the land, joined in blood and lust and fury, coiled snakes on a dark path.

And Lilith made sweet with Miryamme her father's bride, and kept the simple queen, if not a friend, more like an injured bird that cannot fly. I walked the palisade with Artur by my side and looked down on the meadow by the river, and saw the two women like a mother and a child, Lilith caring for the little queen as if she were her own child, calling to her, "Come, my mother, come dance with me, dancing, dancing, we'll ride a fine horse."

Artur looked upon them both and said to me, "The girl takes my curse and weakens it, Maer. See how she laughs and smiles with the queen."

"It's a natural love, sire, a protective thing."

Artur glanced at me. "Seems like it's many do care for my queen, my helpless creature. I thank them for their kindness."

"She's a sweet thing, sire, but not practical for the land's queen. Your own blood daughter, Lilith, she will bleed for this land, this kingdom. You died tomorrow, sire, she could wear your crown. Men would follow her."

Artur held my gaze, long and hard. "She the first born, Maer, you swear it?"

"By these hands, sire, these very hands you see in front of you." I held my hands out for him to see. "Emmelyne is my witness, she swaddled the girl babe whilst I birthed the whelp."

"The whelp? My son, Maer, and marked king." Artur pointed out the fact of it, as if it was the weather, a dull day.

"I tell it true, lord, I warm not to Mordant your son; nor him me." It was rare I looked Artur straight, but this time I did. "Nym Nymue sees treachery in him, sire, when she trances. She cannot pierce the veil, but his shade blackens her backwards sight."

"And you say she cannot see Lilith, even in clear light?"

"She can see the one but not the other streaming back, that's true. Nymue is afraid of it, not seeing Lilith. Her eyes can't see your daughter straight."

Artur looked down at his arms and the twisted ink upon them, slowly turning his hands over. He looked at me, a stillness in his eyes. "I trust her with my life, Maer."

"I think she take it in both hands, sire."

"Like your hands, Maer, when she was born? A life?"

"Yeay. Her life is powerful born, any fool can see that."

Artur laughed. "You see it, Maer?"

"Not I, sire. I'm blind."

"As a bat, my friend?"

"Three bats, a mole, and an earthworm or two. In a dark cave, and my eyes all closed."

"Go from me, Maerlyn. Your words make no sense, yet still I listen."

"I'm gone, sire, as you bid it."

* * * *

"Do you forbid it, Mother?"

"I do, Mordant. You are not their king, and you shall not command. The garrison are my men, and answer only to me." Morgayne's voice was calm and low. "If you want troops to command, you go north to your father. Prove yourself there."

She was unforgiving, but knew her son was weak inside, cruel but unformed. She watched him react to her words, saw his hurt pride, but she refused to coddle the prince.

"He loves Lilith more, Mother, he doesn't love me."

"Lilith loves her father, Mordant. You only love yourself, and oft times that I doubt. Even a mother finds you hard, without grace. Find grace, my son, and be seen by your father. He sees what you are, not what you think you are."

"Do you love me, Mother?"

"Don't test me, boy."

"You're cruel, Mother."

"I know it, my son. It is my way, I won't change it, just because you hurt. You must mend your own wounds, Mordant. I cannot do it for you."

Morgayne rubbed her own belly where the thin red scar of her children's birth still itched, and smiled at the memory of the mad magickian, who had held his hands so very, very close to her heart.

"Do you mock me, Mother, with your smile?"

She turned her slow eyes towards him, gazing through her son, seeing so far past his eyes that Mordant turned to see who was behind him. Morgayne turned her eyes away as if she couldn't bear his presence any more.

"No, I do not, my son. You mock yourself enough, you don't need another to do it." She smiled at him with a sadness in her eyes. "Take the best horse, and three of the men, and my banner. Ride north for the Red Morgayne. I give you that."

As Mordant turned to leave her chamber, she stretched out a slow hand through the air in his direction. "Remember your blood, my son. You have the blood of kings in your veins. Give fealty as prince, and love your father better, however hard that be. Remember your blood."

Mordant feared blood. He feared the shedding of it, and the pain that went with cuts and falls, so he was timid, even as he was cruel to those around him. He carried the blood bruise on his face and was marked, and couldn't hide it.

He couldn't compare. The men at Tyntangel knew Artur and his firm command, yet mocked the son whenever he turned away, which was often. And when word drifted south of Lilith, how she rode by the king's side and bled in battle with her father, the brother and son were scorned.

So Mordant rode north with three reluctant men.

* * * *

Oh my, the king's son, that odious boy, that embarrassment for his mother; Mordant has crept to Camlann expecting fealty. The king's son wanting allegiance, just because he was born? Not here, not now, not this court.

His sister Lilith rode forth to meet him, tall and proud on her horse, and Mordant crept in beside her. Could two children of the king be more unalike? Morgayne surely carried them nine moons in separate pods, and my own hands fooled as I held them first.

"Oh brother," I heard Lilith say, "do you come here to fight? Artur your father needs men to fight, can you do it?" And I heard the scorn in her voice, even her own brother despised.

"Leave him be, Lilith," said her father, and held his arms out for his only son, the prince. "Welcome to your father's place, Mordant my son. Come, we eat, and strategy share."

I looked at the king, and marvelled how he said it, refusing his son his pretences; yet I saw his stoic eye and remembered earlier words.

"It must be done, Maer. The boy is so unformed, yet thinks himself king without a crown. I not like his cowardly ways, made all cruel to compensate, but I have to try. He's blood."

"He needs to spill blood, father, break heathen heads from bodies." Lilith turned her head towards Artur, her pale blue eyes steady and straight, and she said it true. "He should be cunning and cruel, the way he tortured animals when he was small; but I can't see it."

"I fear you're right, Lilith, he will find some excuse not to ride." Artur got slowly to his feet, and made his way to see Mordant in his chamber at the end of the keep. Later, I saw him return to his own sleeping chamber, and Lilith went to him there.

I should not worry at it, like a tooth, but I do.

* * * *

Artur was right. His coward son complained of loose guts before the next ride, some slimed shit in the river, which luckily washed away quick.

The king and a troop, Lilith in the middle of it, went east to follow a rumour.

I went down to the village where dogs were better company than the cur Mordant; but even there I saw him skulking, down by the forge where Rednock beat out shoes for the horses.

Lancilet was in the blacksmith's place, and had found a new skill, joining a hundred tiny loops of beaten metal into an armoured shirt, full flexible it was, and proof against arrows. I watched Mordant slide up to his cousin and drop the rings to the ground, a stupid snear on his face just because he did it. Lancilet bent to pick the metal loops up, not even saying a word. I saw Mordant studying his cousin, and thought nothing good would come of it.

Mordant turned away and left the stable, but stumbled his toe on an anvil, crying out loud in pain.

"He cannot make an exit, let alone an entrance proper," Rednock commented, his voice as dry as the hay he fed his horses; so even the loyal servant saw the stained prince for a fool.

The filth in Mordant's eyes as he limped away, and the red flush on his face, brighter than the king's mark on his cheek, flagged a warning to me. I made true to myself to be wary, and hastened to Emmelyne to aid my watch.

"He will skulk, Em, and want mischief against the king and his, I'm sure of it."

Sure true, the next days I saw Mordant charm the poor silly queen, his cowardice finding the easiest place to corrupt.

"We cannot warn her, Em, she won't understand. See how he hides his face from her eyes not to fright her? At least the scum from their boats carry swords and are honest in their treachery. Watch close, and warn me."

I spoke to Rednock too, and suggested he not joy the prince Lancilet, for fear what Mordant would say against him and the sweet dark boy if he found them, skulking and digging and twisting his malice in like a knife.

A week on, and the king still away, the filth found it: Miryamme the queen and her dalliance with Lancilet in the night and in the lady's anterior chamber.

Elayne told Emmelyne what the young couple did, how the queen protected her curious virginity while the king was away, and how one night she spied Mordant spying too.

"Mordant knows it, Maer, that the queen's cunt lies empty and unused and she has no need of it, her proof the king's daughter on her horse, and now the king's son in the court."

"He will use this knowledge quick against the king, I have no doubt of it. We must plan against Mordant, or he'll spill secrets that the king wants not spilled, and the queen's innocence corrupted too."

I pondered on it, and scuffed my boots in the dirt and tied five knots, thinking of a better skulk. But I could not do it, I could not think what to do. Being a fool in a hat with a bell, jingle jingle, I can plot against fools, but I cannot plot against malice. Malice runs quieter and makes no noise, so I cannot hear it coming; and it's upon me even before it starts.

* * * *

"She wants it, Lancilet, I know she wants it. A man's fuck in her quim, proper and deep. She craves it, longs for it every night. She'll beg. She'd beg me, but cannot, because Artur the king is my father, which makes her almost my mother."

Mordant sidled along beside Lancilet his cousin, whispering in the older youth's ear, whispering lies and deceit. "Her little cunt, Lancilet, she wants it filled. I know you plunder her tighter place, but her empty cunt! You must fill it, full." He stretched the lie. "The king can't do it, he's old and his cock is feeble, but she begs it. Fill it, fuck it, fill her wanting puss."

Mordant slithered on with his message, pulling Lancilet's mind away from the gentle truth of his love for Miryamme the lonely queen, until the cousin believed he could make children where the king could not. Mordant smiled behind his own hand and pressed home the lie.

"She wants a proper fucking, Lancilet, by a man with a cock full hard. The king is all a soft, feeble man, he can't rise. He's weak and limp, and has called me up to Camlann to make me king in his stead. He's told me, Mordant, his full trusted son - I'm dying, he's said. You'll inherit my crown, he's said. Mordant king, in my right place on the throne.

"But first, his queen. Go to her, Lancilet, she loves you, she'll let you do it." Mordant watched Lancilet closely as he spoke, and saw a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. "She's told me so herself." He pressed home the deceit. "She tells me, Lancilet, because I'm the king's son, full trusted with the truth. Artur wants you, for the queen's fuck."

Mordant was so tied up in his plot for Lancilet to deflower the queen, that he was careless where he plotted. Elayne the queen's maid overhead Mordant snivelling his lies to Lancilet, and heard the plan. She spoke to Emmelyne, who in turn went to Maerlyn and they pondered a trap to expose Mordant's intent and reveal his treachery to the king and the innocent queen.

"But how not to damage Lancilet? For he is a good man and has the queen's heart, and is a better son in truth to the king than his own son."

"I know it, Em, and am thinking of ways." Maerlyn sat pondering, weaving threads in his mind, how to set another's plan in train and continue it better suited to his own path.

Maerlyn knew that a man's seed, when conjured with, was meant to be; and he knew from Nymue's trances that Mordant's way must run. He could dabble with it, but never fully stop a fate. A man be born from a fuck, or a woman, and dread him who try to stop it.

Maerlyn turned to Emmelyne. "Elayne, how tall she be, standing next to the queen?" His voice sunk to a whisper. "She know the queen's voice, could she take it?"

Emmelyne knew the power of words once spoken, and knotted her kerchief, five knots. She listened close to Maerlyn's words and learned his plan, and learned of another love-child born many years before, and Nymue's magick then. "Maer, you can guide the man, but how the woman's magick make? Nym Nymue made it with you then, but who now can change a face so quick?"

"You have to talk to Lilith, Em, sister to sister. She loves the king and would protect the maiden queen, yet does not love her brother. She has her mother's magick and would surely do it."

The importance of Maerlyn's words fell full force on Emmelyne. "Is this the price of Lilith's shroud, Maer, that only you and I know?"

"It is a part of it, I think, but only a little one. Know it, Emmy, but don't reveal it when you speak." Maerlyn sat still, his eyes distant. "This family's not done yet, I feel it in my bones and my body aches. There's a thunder coming, Em, a storm."

"And Elayne, what her?"

"She's a good girl, Em, and loves the queen. She'll not mind the prince inside her belly, either. Is she ripe, her moon high?"

"Like cows for milk, she regular be. Three nights to thread the needle, if the land wants another squalling babe."

"It seems Em, whenever I get involved, she wants it."

"Keep away from my quim then, Maer," said Emmelyne with a wink. "When this is done, my bottom's tight, all ready."

* * * *

The rain started slowly, squalling showers breaking over the valleys, veils of rain shifting quick against the light. The villagers and the fort's garrison hustled animals and children in under cover, and the first runnels of water trickled down paths and over stone. Dust settled, and the horses, returned from Artur's eastern troop, ran loose in meadows by the river, until Rednock and his men brought them home.

Artur called Maerlyn, and told him of more scouting boats from across the northern sea. Scared men had been captured on the shore and bound in ropes, and left with Lilith until they talked then willingly died, rewarded with her smile and her parted thighs. She cleansed herself in the deepest river, and washed their blood away.

Mordant sat in the king's parly and listened, but held his tongue. He did not see his sister, but she watched him and saw his sideways look.

The next night the rain had settled in, clouds low and grey, dulling a dull moon, and paths ran with mud. Maerlyn and the king met in long strategy, maps were drawn and loyal horses counted. The kingdom prepared for war.
Mordant wrapped a dark cloak around Lancilet's shoulders, and the two crept swiftly past the flickering lights of Artur's parly room, tarred rushes burning on the walls and a log fire crackling. Mordant felt a trickle of cold rain slide down his neck and over his chest and he shivered with the chill touch of it. But his words were smooth as honey as he reassured Lancilet that the queen would be alone, the cousin's cock the purpose of this night.

Mordant had brewed a coction, lacing it with forgetful flowers, dulling herbs and the skin of mushrooms from the forest, and fed it to Lancilet to fuddle his thoughts yet tighten his loins. "You're nervous, Lancilet, no need to be, drink this. It's a rutting potion I Iearned from my mother, and drank it myself before fucking the village girls south at Tyntangel." More lies, but Mordant didn't know when to stop. His fates were running on now, and he was caught in the midst of them, like a spider devouring its web.

A swirl of rain rushed hard against the wall and Lancilet paused, catching his balance with a hand against the stone. In his britches, he felt a different thickening, and knew it was the drugged drink acting upon him. "I feel strange, cousin," he murmured to Mordant, "the light is shimmering bright."

"Don't fear it, Lancilet. It's the drink, it brings a strong courage, and a tightening of the balls." He touched Lancilet's brow and felt a slight sweat, and knew that the potion was creeping into the other man's brain. His hand wandered lower to Lancilet's thickening cock, not for his pleasure because he had none, but to be sure of it for his plan. The prince's cock rose, and Mordant stroked it hard, carefully teasing Lancilet up while whispering quiet words into his ear.

"She'll want this prod, dear Lancilet. She'll sigh and take it into her mouth, oh yes, and her fingers will play in her cunt and touch your lips and she'll moan." His voice was cold and remorseless, driving the lustful vision deep into Lancilet's mind. "Don't be slow, Lancilet, place the queen on her back and spread her legs apart. You'll see her lovely quim, she wants it full and fiercely fucked. Do it, Lancilet my sweet, fuck her up full, and when I'm king you can have the queen's cunt whenever you want it. I've no need for it."

Lancilet could think of nothing but his cock and its tight strain, the drugs were upon him. He brushed Mordant's hand away, and pulled his britches down his legs so his cock rose hard and high against his belly. He wrapped the cloak around himself and crept along the wall, using his fingers for guidance along the joints between the stones. The fast rain swirled around, blinding his eyes with streaming drops. He wiped his eyes clear, and stepped over the familiar threshold to Miryamme's rooms. The walls shimmered and swirled, circling with crystalline light.

"Go now, I'll wait." He heard Mordant's low whisper and a cold laugh, and he was alone in the room. He knew the antechamber well, the small entry room with its cooking fire and a corridor beyond, past Elayne's bed-chamber to Miryamme's room. Usually he would hear Miryamme's low whisper calling to him with her stutter, "Lancilet, Lancilet, is that you, is that you?"

He brushed the water from his eyes, and could hear nothing but the low rush of the rain outside. He shook his head to clear it, and heard a soft sound from the room ahead.

"Lancilet, Lancilet, is it you? Come to me quick, sweet boy." Miryamme's voice was soft, quickly spoken. He dropped the cloak from his shoulders and reached for the strings that tied his jerkin close. Pulling the cloth away from his body, Lancilet brushed his own nipples and they were tight and hard, tiny points on his flesh, the touch causing his prick to throb.

"Quick, see me." Miryamme's voice was urgent. He glanced aside to Elayne's room, and saw a huddled shape under her blankets; the sleeping maid waiting on her queen. He went on to the queen's chamber, eager now for her fresh, smooth body, and the delectable quim he had tasted so many times before but entry always denied. A rush of rain blew against the window shutters, and he startled with the sound of it.

There on the bed, in the dim light from the window, lay the slender body of the queen, her head thrown back into the shadows, naked before him. Lancilet quickly moved forward, his cock aching for her, aching for his own desire. Mordant's ceaseless drip of words tormented his mind and made him see nothing but the woman's spread wide legs, but he never heard her silence or thought it strange. He fell upon her, and was welcomed by strong arms, but didn't remember the queen's frailty and didn't think it strange.

With a moan Lancilet gripped her legs and spread them wide, and placed the tip of his engorged cock between the lips of the queen's cunt where he'd always been denied. He didn't think it curious when her hand came down to guide him, and she gripped his ass and pulled him into her with a low hiss, "Yesss."

She pushed up against him with hot delight, bucking her hips up to his, her lips feverish on his mouth in a hungry kiss. "Oh sire, oh prince, please take me, take me, unhh..." She embraced him hard, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him fierce inside her, then turned her head away. "Don't look, don't see. I'm not...."

Suddenly the rain stopped, and the only sound was the slick of their bodies against each other and their fast breath, as Lancilet arched his back with a sudden thrust and surged his seed up into her, his orgasm ripping through his body in pulses before collapsing onto her slender body. With a high cry, she too came, her body shaking against his, "Mmmm, unhh... yesss, mine, this night."

There was a sudden crash of a door flung open, followed by the sound of feet running. Mordant's voice cried out, "Artur, my father, you are betrayed, your queen taken by her cousin, fucked in your place. Her innocence broken, oh my father!"

"What's this, Mordant? You speak filth. My queen would not give her prize to any man but me, and she sleeps. What you? Why bring me here, scurrying in the night?"

"Look father. Lancilet and the queen, there on the bed, she's still wrapped her legs around him like a slut. The king's queen, a slut."

"There's no queen here, Mordant. It's Lancilet, sure, but he favours the maid Elayne; yet they lie on the queen's bed, 'tis odd."

Lancilet pushed back and fell away from the maid, astonished that it was indeed Elayne in his arms and in the queen's bed.

"How is it Elayne? Mordant promised me it was the queen wanted me for her quim, her virgin fuck to take." He shook his head, confused, the staring pupils of his eyes wide, revealing his drugged ecstasy.

"Lancilet, prince, you bed the lady's maid. Miryamme the queen sleeps in my chamber, quietly in my bed. Emmelynne is with her, calming her there. Why did you think her here, and willing for you?" Artur looked down on the youth and touched him gently on the shoulder. "You look to be tranced. Who has done this, my prince?"

"Mordant, sire. He promised it, saying you wanted it, because you're old and feeble too."

Artur looked askance at the youth, and covered Elayne with a quilt. She gratefully wrapped it around herself and was about to slip away, when Artur held a finger to his lips."Sssh, Elayne, you're innocent here, I think."

"Mordant you say, brought you here saying the queen would be in her chamber, then rushed to find me?"

Lancilet nodded, "Yeay, he brought me here, and I heard the queen's voice and saw her face."

"Did he now? Mordant did that, and you say you saw my queen?" Artur spoke as calmly as ever he did, when riding into battle or admiring a young goat-herd's flock.

He turned to his son. "It seems, child, that you plot as well as you command. There are quicker minds than yours, this night." He paused, and watched the red bloom rise on Mordant's face.

"You would stain my queen with your rage, you would fool the prince Lancilet with your lies, you would bring me here in the falling rain to see faces?" He was like a still pond with no ripples, and Mordant finally understood quiet anger, quiet rage, his father turned against him forever. "What else would you do, my son, to prove yourself a man?"

* * * *

Well. That's the proof of it, made clear in a puddle. Mordant content to plot against his father and use a gentle boy to do it, and willing to sully the queen's fragile mind along with it.

"Ban him, father. He'll not fight for you, my gutless brother. Send him from this place." Lilith was ruthless and her eyes as cold as the winter sky. "We need to fight, father, and need men to do it, not sprawling, crawling things. Mordant is no brother to me. If he was a flea in a comb I'd crush it."

I saw Mordant quiver before his sister's wrath, his hand shaking against his leg. He gripped it with his other hand, trying to stop the shake.

Artur stood facing the fire, and didn't look back at his son. A huge, ragged breath escaped him, and I saw his shoulders slump. He took another breath, and looked up towards the roof. "This night, I go to my queen. Lilith, my daughter, we ride tomorrow side by side.

"Mordant, be not here in the morn. I care not where you go. I banish you, my only son. Go!

"'Tis done, these deeds, and what's done cannot be undone. I curse this day."

I was there.

When Elayne the hand-maiden was made queen for a night, I was there.

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