Tragedy has struck


Ten months after the grand weddings, Arthur and Gwen snuggled up by the fire in the Great Hall. Gwen caressed a bundle in her arms. “Look how much he has grown!” Arthur exclaims. Gwen’s face twisted into a smile. The bundle in her arms rustled, and then a baby’s face was revealed. He had sandy blonde hair and deep sapphire eyes. His skin was as white as porcelain. “Macarthur, shhhhhhh,” Gwen attempted to comfort the small child and stifle the wails it emitted. “If only Merlinnus were here. He could put a slumber spell on the child, and maybe we could get a couple winks of sleep!” Arthur yawned.
Gawaine stroked Mariel’s hair as they entered Cadbury’s castle grounds. “Mariel, my darling, soon we will live in a place not haunted by evil. Those past months in Orkney were treacherous,” Gawaine whispered in her ear. Mariel hugged Gawaine with passion, and she almost giggled. Gawaine waved at the guards and entered the Great Hall to meet the three musketeers: Arthur, Gwen, and Macarthur. Arthur stood to greet the newcomers. “Why have you traveled so far from Orkney, Gawaine?” Arthur questions. “We were unhappy sire. The old witch bossed us around like we were her workhorses,” muttered Mariel, who was speaking for Gawaine, “We were wondering if we could possibly move in here,” finished Gawaine. “You may, of course, because we adore you so much.”
Morgause paced frantically. She knew that time was slipping through her very fingers. “Dang that old rat!” Morgause yelped as if she was a helpless child. How on earth could they have an heir to the throne so soon? This shows how my plan failed! The thoughts raced across her mind, leaving searing pain as an aftermath. “Servant, send me Agravaine. Immediately!” There, I will put my boy to use finally. Morgause ran over to the shelves, plucking the toenails, plumplejuice, and the hair of a kitten from the rack. She hurriedly mixed the three, for Agravaine could never see what she is making.
“Sir Agravaine, Morgause would like to see you in the North Tower preferable as soon as possible!” Agravaine waved off the servant. What does she want now? I’ve done this and that; I’ve run here and there, and I have been almost everyone on the blasted grounds of this castle! He hoisted himself out of the chair he was in and stumbled across the room almost lazily. He stumbled up the steps and banged on the door. Oh, how I wish she would change her ways…
Morgause was sweating like a pig in the summer months. How dare my son turn to the wretched Arthur! This is the one and only chance to dethrone the beast! While her hair tangled itself into black knots, Morgause poured the concoction into a glass and attempted to disguise the vulgar odor of the liquid. Thump, thump, thump. Morgause could vividly picture Agravaine standing outside the door with his hands on his hips, a blank expression washed over his face. Leaping, Morgause grabbed the knob and led Agravaine into the spacious dungeon. “My favorite son! Come in! Come in! It is pretty drafty in the hall. How are you?” Morgause attempted to beat around the bush. “Mother, please! Get to the point because you are wasting my precious time; why am I here?” Irritation began to spread across the young man’s face. Morgause stealthily, like a cat, moved across the room while clutching the glass filled grotesque liquid. She thrust the glass in Agravaine’s face. The confused boy glanced up at his mother. His mouth opened slowly, but his mother cut him off, “Baby, drink this tasty treat. It will make you very strong, so you can become a knight at Arthur’s court!” Agravaine had doubts, but gulped down the unknown liquid, instead.
“Agravaine, what a surprise to see you,” Gawaine said while he embraced his brother in a bear hug. “Hello! Welcome, Agravaine. Make yourself comfortable,” Arthur paused while looking over the boy, then continued, “Why have you come?” “I have come for one sole reason: to murder you!” With that, Agravaine sprung from his chair with a jagged knife in his hand. He stabbed the air, but it did not puncture the light-footed king. Mariel and Gwen galloped off into the corner like whimpering puppies. Gawaine, with the baby in his arms, jumped into action of protecting the king. Agravaine dodged the punches Arthur were throwing; however, the knife plunged itself into Macarthur like a penguin plunging into the icy cold waters of the ocean.
“AGRAVAINE! HOW DARE YOU!” Gawaine shouted at his brother. Agravaine stumbled back, landing himself into a chair. Agravaine, stuttering, explained he didn’t understand what was happening. One single word escaped from his tightly locked lips: “Mother!” Gwen began to shed many tears that seemed like a flash flood. Mariel grasped for Gawaine and clung to him tightly. Gawaine handed the dying son back to his father, Arthur. Arthur’s face twisted itself to a convulsive look, and he turned his head to the side and vomited. Gawaine sprinted off out of the room, unable to bear the burden of the dying child.
Gawaine, out of breath, stopped along the edge of the castle wall. Arthur stalked out of the castle towards Gawaine. Tragedy has struck. “Gawaine, don’t hold this burden forever. This was merely a mistake. Your mother bewitched your poor brother, and I will not hold him in the dungeon,” Arthur explained. “I cannot forgive myself, nor can my brother. I am sorry,” Gawaine broke out into tears after muttering those words. “Gawaine, I know this from experience of tragedies happening. The best thing to do is to forgive and forget; one thing to forget about is that snake-like woman you call mother. I know you agree with me.” Gawaine nodded with agreement, wiping away the tears. “I will forget this, and I will attempt to forgive myself for my actions,” Gawaine muttered.