Hunger Games: Fandom Style

Magic Itself

A/N: Every time I decide to get the chapter done early, something comes up, and I end up writing it right before bed. Every. Single. Time.
Right. Enough whining. On to the good stuff. Speaking of which . . . The end is drawing near. Please. Comment. I've got plans on how to end it, but I would really, really, REALLY appreciate some feedback on this.

Arthur stood alone in the center of the street, assuming you didn't count the long lines of statues that stood on either side of it. A loaf of bread that had been sent down to Will lay at his feet. The parachute chirped cheerfully. It must have cost a small fortune to send in.
Arthur didn't spare it a glance. He had more important things to attend to.
Such as, for instance, his high priestess half-sister.
She was just over ten feet away. Her hair was blown back in a breeze. Nothing else was; just her hair. Apparently, melodrama and magic were cousins of some sort. Thankfully, Merlin was above all that. Or maybe it was just hard to be melodramatic when you're tripping over your own feet.
"Morgana." His mouth felt dry. "You don't have to do this. It's still not too late."
"Poor brother." She smiled. "You almost sound like you're trying to save me. When will you learn that not every damsel wants to be rescued?"
"What did I ever do to you, Morgana? Why didn't you at least try to find a better way?"
Lifetimes ago, the words would have brought a hint of doubt to her eyes. But the centuries had hardened her too much. Morgana, as he had once known her, was gone. All that was left was the maddened, hate filled shell.
She laughed at him. "Words. So many words. I think the crackle of the bonfires and the screams of the sorcerers speak so much louder, don't you?"
"I'm not our father."
"No," she spat. "But you'll do."
He drew his sword. She laughed again. "Do you really think that will defend you? No mortal blade can kill me, and I don't see Excalibur anywhere, do you? It's a pity, really. Tell me, where is your immortal protector? Why aren't you hiding behind him like the coward you are?"
"What makes you think he's so far away?"
She froze for a moment, but then shook it off. "I could sense him. A gift such as his does not pass unnoticed in the world."
"Not by most," he agreed. Of course, he hid under all of our noses for years without giving anyone the slightest suspicion. So did Morgana, for that matter. Perhaps the Pendragons are born blind to that kind of thing.
Morgana took a step forward. "I can't kill you, you know. You have no idea how angry that made me at first. I finally realized I was being close minded. After all, if I kill you, the fun's over in mere moments. But if I restrict myself to other amusements . . . Well, then the fun can go on and on."
And killing things mends a broken heart? Her scornful voice echoed hauntingly in his mind.
Where did you learn that it did, Morgana? Did Morgause tell you that? Did you whisper that lie to yourself when it became too much to bear? Or did we teach it to you somehow?
Arthur had worried once that madness might run in his family. It hadn't occurred to him until just now that maybe he hadn't been the Pendragon to inherit it.
Morgana took another step forward. Her eyes flashed gold as she summoned her will for a spell. She opened her mouth just as her foot touched the pavement.
Specifically, the pavement inside the magic circle Merlin had drawn.
"It won't do much," Merlin had explained. "She can still use most of her power. But it'll prevent her from passing the border of the circle by magical or mundane means. She won't be able to apparate out if things go against her."
The seemingly empty buildings around them came to life. Will, who had found another stash of arrows at the Cornucopia, began a blinding hail of them down upon Morgana from the roof of a nearby building. She slashed most of them out of the air, but one slipped through and grazed her cheek.
Behind her, Harry leapt up and began a stream of curses, jinxes, and hexes, including some that really shouldn't be mixed. Morgana threw up a shield, but like with the arrows, one got through. A blasting charm sent her flying against the opposite side of the barrier. She slid to the ground like a rag doll.
The wolves came in growling from a side street. Morgana didn't pay much attention to them. Her gaze was locked on the last member of their little group, who had suddenly appeared directly in front of Arthur.
"Hello, Morgana," Merlin said quietly. "Remember me?"
Morgana panicked. She tried to transport out, but the wards just flared around her. She pushed herself to her feet. "You," she spat in mixed hatred and fear.
"Me," he agreed in the same quiet tone. "It's always me."
"Animatus!"
The statues came to life around them. Stone gave way to flesh and blood that was nonetheless wickedly fast, strong, and ruthless.
Twelve statues versus a wizard, two werewolves, a Ranger, and the Once and Future King.
For her sake, Arthur hoped she had reinforcements.