A Duel of Wits and Will
Morgan stood beside Lott, watching the exchange between her husband and Scáthach, the formidable warrior from the land of shadows. Even with all of Lott's skill, it was clear he was no match for Scáthach's magic and martial prowess. The power gap was undeniable, especially when factoring in Scáthach's use of runes and other mystical abilities. Lott was a brave man, but far from being Scáthach's equal in combat.
Morgan knew that despite her ambitions to one day become the ruler of Britain, now was not the time. Their strength was insufficient. Lott had attempted to reason with Scáthach earlier, hoping to avoid a fight and appeal for peace, but the shadowy queen seemed determined to test them.
"Is that so? I've never really understood the subtleties of human relationships and politics," Scáthach responded with a sly smile, clearly amused.
Without further warning, Scáthach launched her attack, her crimson spear aimed at both Lott and Morgan. Lott, knowing he stood no chance but unwilling to let Morgan be harmed, raised his sword to intercept the strike. The spear's tip flashed, and before Lott could even register the movement, it was already at his throat.
"I'll give you one more chance to react," Scáthach said, pulling her spear back slightly, her voice almost teasing.
Lott gripped his sword tightly, trying to focus, but Scáthach was too fast. She attacked again. This time, he managed to parry the blow, but the force of the spear sent a shock through his arm, and his grip on the sword wavered. It was clear: he was outmatched. His hands ached from the impact, and he nearly dropped his weapon.
"No, no. Your martial skills are laughable. You're not even close to being a real fighter," Scáthach commented, her voice dripping with condescension as she withdrew her spear and shook her head.
Morgan, listening to the exchange, couldn't help but suppress a laugh, even as she watched her husband struggle. Despite the danger they were in, the absurdity of the situation was almost too much. But her amusement quickly faded as she glared at Scáthach. This woman is humiliating Lott, and by extension, me, Morgan thought, feeling a surge of anger. No matter the odds, she wouldn't let this slight go unchallenged.
Before Morgan could act, Scáthach noticed her readiness and waved a hand. "Oh, you don't want to get involved, Morgan. In your current condition, fighting me would only harm the child you carry," Scáthach said with a calm authority that made Morgan freeze in place.
Lott, still holding his sword, stood in disbelief. He knew Morgan had been the one to provoke Scáthach with her sharp words earlier, but there was no arguing about it now. What my wife says, I must deal with, he thought. Picking up his sword again, he braced himself for another round. His frustration was mounting, not just with Scáthach but with the entire situation. After this, I'll have to give Morgan a serious talk, he mused.
Morgan, meanwhile, noticed Lott's continued attempts to fight, despite being beaten down repeatedly. Her mind raced as she considered their options. Running isn't possible, she thought. Even if they tried to flee, Scáthach would catch them without breaking a sweat. Could we call for help? Altria? Galahad? Or even that old fraud, Merlin? But as she looked around, she realized the truth: they were trapped within the bounds of Scáthach's magic runes. No help was coming.
Lott's battle with Scáthach continued, though "battle" was hardly the right word. He hadn't landed a single blow. The first time, his sword was knocked from his hands before it even touched her spear. The second time, he lasted two exchanges before his sword was sent flying, and the heavy spear smashed into his shoulder, sending him to the ground once more.
Lott lay there, defeated and frustrated. What is this? If you're going to kill me, just get it over with. I'm not some plaything. Do I look like a sandbag to you? He thought bitterly, even as he picked up his sword yet again. I swear, one day I'll get a weapon that can defeat you. Just wait.
Morgan, listening to Lott's heartbeat and thoughts, suddenly had a revelation. Of course! Scáthach isn't here just because of my words earlier. Plenty of people across Scotland had likely made similar remarks. It wasn't in Scáthach's nature to hunt someone down for a mere insult.
No, there was something else. Something they could give her. Morgan's eyes lit up. She came because of us. Because we can fulfil her desire.
As Scáthach prepared for another attack, Morgan raised her voice. "Stop! If you keep this up, you'll never get what you came for."
The words caught Scáthach's attention, and she paused, intrigued. "Oh? And what exactly do you think I want?"
Morgan stepped forward, ignoring the pressure from Scáthach's intense gaze. She was used to being underestimated; after all, she was destined to be the Queen of Britain. I won't be intimidated by this mere shadow queen, she thought, summoning all her courage.
"You want to die, don't you?" Morgan asked, her voice steady.
Lott blinked, surprised. What is Morgan doing? But Scáthach's reaction was different. Her eyes gleamed with interest, and she nodded. "Yes. I've never hidden that."
Morgan continued, her voice growing more confident. "Then if you keep fighting my husband, you'll never achieve that goal."
Scáthach's eyes widened slightly, intrigued. Lott looked at Morgan in astonishment. What is she planning? Is she suggesting that when she becomes the ruler of Britain, they'll be strong enough to kill Scáthach?
Morgan pressed on. "Lott and I are still at the beginning of our potential. If you strike us down now, you'll never know if we could have been the ones to grant your wish. You'll never know if we could have been strong enough to give you the death you crave."
Scáthach smiled, genuinely amused now. "Go on," she said, her tone softer, more interested.
Morgan stepped even closer, feeling the tension ease slightly. She's listening, she thought. We might survive this.
"Give us time," Morgan said boldly. "Our growth is limitless. If you allow us to live, we'll become strong enough to fulfil your wish. But if you kill us now, you'll lose that chance forever."
Scáthach stood silent for a moment, weighing Morgan's words. Finally, she lowered her spear. "Very well," she said. "I'll be watching. Don't disappoint me."
Lott sighed in relief, grateful for Morgan's quick thinking.