Capítulo 6: Death of an Empress
Eleven years ago. That was the last time Priscilla saw her father alive. She did not know what happened to his body, only that Merlin had taken care of the procedures. The kingdom mourned for ten days and ten nights. The memorial was constructed after another ten days, and the first ceremony was held. As the heir, Priscilla was made to speak. Her speech caused a great stir in the crowd and her position was solidified. Quickly after, she took control of the kingdom, and began making plans to expand and prevent any more tragedies like that.
Only two years after she became Queen, Priscilla united three kingdoms and turned the Kingdom of Camelot into an Empire. There was an uproar at first, but people gradually grew to accept it, or so she thought. Priscilla didn't know when she had begun sitting on the bare stone floor, but as swathes of people started leaving the grounds to join the side of her father's army, she began to shake uncontrollably. The people were chanting 'huzzah!', 'King Arthur', and 'Camelot' which caused Priscilla to throw up from the overwhelming terror.
"…up!" A voice called out into the depths of her clouded mind. She looked up and saw Gawain's back in front of her. A clash of blades resounded out. He was holding back the five other knights alone. Her eyes looked dead and her gaze was blank.
"Your Majesty, get up! We need to get away from here!" Gawain shouted.
"Sir Gawain, do not forget whom you have sworn your loyalty to!"
"Hmph! Whether it is you or I that has forgotten, you know best in your heart!"
Priscilla stared at the scene and was unable to do anything. Her hand had an iron grip on the sword, but she could not move a muscle to draw it. Although very physically strong, her legs were completely numb at this moment. Having the whole of her being denied by her father, everything she had built up had come crashing down. Everything she had invested to fulfill his dream, gone in the wind. Everything she had done for her people was turned upside down by a single declaration.
'Subjugated!? Was I wrong? Had I been a tyrant that slaved the people all along?'
"Forgive my impertinence," Gawain grabbed her around the waist and heaved her up over his shoulder. He then leaped down from the raised stone platform and ran north, towards Camelot castle. He looked back occasionally and saw no one had followed them. After traveling like this for several hours, light began to fade, so Gawain laid Priscilla down in a soft spot and began to prepare a fire.
While the fire burned, Gawain caught some birds with a make-shift sling and cooked them on the open flame. Priscilla was still sitting in the same spot, slightly slouched over. Her hair had already come undone and was blocking her face. Gawain handed her a skewer, which she seemed to instinctively grab and hold for a moment before returning her hand down to the ground. He could only guess what was going on through her head at this point.
Gawain stayed up all night keeping watch. Priscilla hadn't slept the whole night either. He knew she had been putting herself to sleep with magic most nights the last few months, so he was not surprised that her insomnia was acting up given what had happened. Just as the sun peaked over the horizon and the orange, pink, and purple colors intertwined, Gawain noticed a change in his peripheries.
Priscilla's hair had begun to turn completely black. From the roots to tip, her original hair color was buried under this pitch-black darkness. If it were anyone else, it would look sinister, but for reasons unknown the color seemed to match her perfectly. When she raised her chin to look at the rising sun, her golden eyes pulled all of Gawain's attention.
He had seen her eyes change before, but this was the first time the golden color was so vibrant and clear. The sun paled in comparison to the bright glow of those eyes, which contrasted with the jet-black hair in a way that would bewitch an undisciplined person. The change could only be summarized as enchanting and breathtaking. Priscilla looked over at Gawain and drew her sword in a fright.
"Your Majesty?" Gawain replied in confusion. He saw Priscilla blink a few times before sighing and sheathing her weapon.
"Gawain, it was you. Don't mind it, I was in a bit of a daze. Your aura is a lot thicker than before. Also, I am no longer the Empress, so you may just call me by my name. Your loyalty is commendable, but I will no longer be needing your services."
Priscilla's tone was different than before. She seemed detached from the world as she spoke. Rummaging around the frills on her dress, she took one of the ribbons and tied her hair up behind her. Then, she tore the hem off the dress up to her knees and began to head towards the rising sun.
"You're wrong." Gawain blurted out when he saw her leaving. Priscilla turned around with a bored look. "You are still Her Majesty. I will follow you no matter where you go."
"I was being polite on account of our past relations, but perhaps I wasn't clear. Do not follow me. And do not call me that way. And— you are an eyesore."
"Even so, I will follow you." He stepped forward. Priscilla drew her sword again and pointed it at his throat. Gawain didn't flinch, but instead allowed the sword to dig into his flesh by stepping toward the blade. This caused Priscilla's to face scrunch up. She pulled back to strike, but at the apex of the swing, she reversed her grip and sheathed the sword again.
"Very well! But remove that armor, its gaudy and conspicuous." She turned around and began walking away. However, Gawain smiled at her. He noticed that she was serious about striking him down, but at the last second, her pupils dilated and she held herself back. He began undoing the leather bindings and dropped the iconic armor of the knights of Camelot.
The armor fell to the ground one by one until there were no longer any marked pieces. Fortunately, he still had his chainmail, gloves, and boots. He quickly caught up to Priscilla and silently walked with her. Gawain was stalwart and loyal to a fault. Although the changes in her confused him, he could still somewhat sense that she was the same person underneath. He was not a learned scholar, so he could not analyze the cause and effect of the situation, but he could guess it was related to the return of the king.
Although their time together wasn't long or intimate, King Arthur had shown his love and compassion for this daughter of his. While on his deathbed, he would constantly call for Priscilla to accompany him for the afternoon. For a young girl without a mother, this time was precious to her, Gawain imagined.
After some time, they continued to walk. Gawain began to wonder where they were going. However, he held back from asking, only to be seen through by Priscilla.
"Lexington. With Camelot presumably breaking their alliances and seceding to be an independent kingdom again, their first target will most likely be the King of Lothian. Whether he acquiesces to King Arthur's demands or goes down fighting will be irrelevant. The fear of war will make it a lot easier to cross the border and acquire passage on a vessel."
Priscilla felt that she had clarified all that was necessary and stopped speaking. Since transforming, her foggy mind was completely clear. The magic overflowed from her and the world had turned alien. Although she had perceived the world like this in small increments before, it was nothing compared to letting it all out. This was the first sunrise that she truly saw. All previous experiences pale in comparison to the sheer majesty of the view from a dragon's perspective.
"No wonder they bothered to coexist; the beauty is breathtaking…" She mumbled.
Just when she thought the world could not be any more disgusting, this scene appeared before her. For a moment, she thought this was all a dream. Such a beautiful sunrise could not exist; therefore, all of this was an illusion of her mind. Comforting herself with this delusion, she began to justify it. 'I hadn't been sleeping well for many days, perhaps it finally caught up to me and I am having a magic induced lucid dream.' But when she thought of her father's face, and his cold words, the pain in her chest woke her up from her denial.
"Whoever you are, King Arthur, my father, or an illusion, I promise that I—will—stop—you!"
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
Pill_Guy
Pill_Guy My poor Priscilla T-T For those of you reading up to here, thank you! Voting/rating should be available soon so please, if you like it, leave behind a little something something. I want to know what y'all think, as it will help motiviate me, one way or another, and keep writing this story. There is A LOT more to come, unless I die in a freak astral-toilet seat event. Fingers crossed!
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