Challenge #4: 2000 Years Later

[An Arthurian εїз]

The time has come,
the walrus said
to speak of many things
Of threads, and quotes
and awesome posts
of servants and kings
------------------εїз

Hello [#username],

Your challenge is to take your muse (or another muse) and decide what they would have been like in today's world. Instead of bring a King would Uther be a mob boss, or a corporate billionaire? Would Gwen be a housekeeper, or hairstylist or something much more now that status does not hold her back?

Come on [#username]! See if you can test out our writing skills on this one! Just post a reply.

[isadora]

Isadora Desiree Caulfield -- 26 Years Old -- Social Worker for Child Services

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Seated behind the wheel of her car, Isadora went over the facts of her latest case in her head as she waited at a red light on her way to her office in the morning. She was working on a case involving a little girl whose father had gone missing; the police were looking into finding him, but until they turned something up, it was up to child services to look after her, and more specifically, it was up to Isadora. She had been at a youth facility for the last few days, but since there weren't many leads on her father's location, she was considering putting her into foster care; it would be a more stable environment, since Isadora had a feeling it would be a long term placement. She sighed, knowing she'd have to keep that to herself around the girl, wondering how she'd keep her spirits up without lying to her. She wasn't looking forward to it.

Thinking about this case reminded Isadora of her relationship with her own father, and was making her consider picking up the phone and giving him a call. The thought made her nervous, but over the past few years she'd really grown to miss the old man, especially knowing he didn't have anyone else. When her mother had died when she was just a kid, she and her father had only had each other...until Isadora had declared in college that she didn't want to follow her father's plans and go to business school, or become a lawyer; money careers. He had been a successful lawyer, and provided the best of everything for her when she was growing up, but after a year of business school, she knew it wasn't for her. She wanted to help people.

She and her father had started fighting then, and it wasn't simply restricted to her career choice. Everything from her friends, her lifestyle and especially her taste in men came under assault, until she had to move out, getting a job to pay for her apartment and her tuition while she went to school, until she'd finally graduated and found a job with social services. She sighed, trying to push the thoughts of her strained relationship with her father out of her mind as she pulled into the parking garage, wondering if he missed her as much as she missed him, and if that would mean he'd stop judging every decision in her life. She wondered if it was worth it, as she collected her briefcase and purse and made her way to the elevator, and decided that wondering wasn't doing her any favors. She had other people's problems to deal with at the moment, and she relished the thought. It was so much easier to find solutions to other people's problems than her own.

[/size]

[Alistair]

Alistair Patrick O'Roux

Sitting on the car that did not belong to him, the mid-thirties man ran his large hand over his aching head. There was so much going on in his life right now that he was not sleeping well. Not that he ever slept well thanks to nightmares. It annoyed the hell out of him; a grown man with nightmares. How wuss did you get?

He'd not been in a city for ages, and the sounds were alien to him. Every time some wanna-be bad ass with a loud muffler drove by he had to fight the urge to jump. He had spent to many years in Africa, fighting for the little guys and not enough time out here where everything rich and pretty. Even the slums of the city looked like a palace when compared to the war torn places he'd been. Were mud houses were built and distorted by the hour.

When he was a lad, growing up in Ireland, he could recall bragging to his 4^th grade class about getting to go to Africa with his parents. During the trip, they had gotten to close to a slave labor diamond mine ran by some the Pendragon company. He did not know if they were aware of what their African contacts were doing to get the diamonds but he was about to not only make them aware, but bring their full attention to him.

Every time he'd tired to do this THEIR way, he'd gotten a letter back from their lawyer assuring him that they would do some sort of internal review and decide what needed to be done. Fine! He'd make sure they stopped ignoring him now!

He could not see the future, not the way people thought about when the talked about seeing the future. Sometimes he would see things in his dreams, sometimes these things came true. Not all the time but some of the time. Sometimes he more just knew what would happen; rather then see it. There had been this one time in Madrid were he'd walked into the room while on a job and took one look at man he'd be working with and knew the man was a trader.

He'd been right, and it had saved his life. Alistair, known as Alex to his few friends, looked up as he heard the car he was waiting in this parking garage for. Finally. He stood up and took a deep breath before putting on a concerned expression and hurried over to to woman getting out of the car. "Miss Caulfield!" He called to her with his slightly Irish accent, the lawyer's pretty little daughter. When her eyes met his he had another moment were he just knew something. Looking in her brown eyes, he knew right here and in this moment; he knew. "I am Alex O'Roux with the police department. I have some bad news about your father . . . . . "

[Deleted]

„Excuse me, Miss Ó Liatháin, you won't forget the video conference you have with the Bureau of Economics in 30 minutes?“
Morgan Lefay, Cara Ó Liatháins personal secretary poked her head through the open door, wincing as she was rewarded with one of Cara's favourite death glares. „Have I ever forgotten anything, my dear?" Morgan retreated, mumbling to herself and was called back the next second.
„Sorry, Morgan... that was not fair. It's been a long night full of work and today's incoming mails really didn't help to lighten my mood.“
„What happened?“ Even though she was balancing a heap of bursting files, Morgan pulled a chair closer and sat down, her face revealing concern.

Moving a hand through her perfect hairdo, messing it up considerably which just showed how troubled she really was, Cara sighed. „The talkings with Pendragon & Son have reached a standstill again! Whatever we try to offer them, they won't take it. They're determined to deforest around 250 hectare of the amazonian rain forest which would be a total desaster! And it seems like they're getting away with it all... Not to mention that their tankships are far from up to safety standards. It's only a matter of time before distaster strikes and there'll be a massive oil spill. Not that any of them would care...“
Morgan clucked her tongue, shaking her head. „You really think they are that bad?“
„It's mostly Pendragon senior. He sees only his money and the current market price. Environment and nature is nothing to him! Let's hope his son takes over soon, he actually seems to have a brain.“
„Not to mention that he's probably one of the most eglible bachelors in all North and South America!“ Morgan laughed and got up, dismissing the topic for now. „I'm going to prepare everything for the vid conference!“

As soon as she was gone Cara heaved a deep sigh, trying to calm herself and toying with that metal label on her desk that read Cara Ó Liatháin, Deputy Programme Director, Greenpeace International. This was what she was to everyone but a few close allies. The tough, businesslike head of an important Greenpeace departement, ever engaging, ever fighting but in the most charming and reasonable way. She had contacts into the Congress and the High Senate, having achieved many a thing for the environment. But behind that mask of political correctness there was a totally different face. Under the code name „Nimueh“ Cara was the head of a radical underground faction seeking to enforce environmental improvements through actions nothing short of terror acts. Under the cloak of accidents, factories were blown up, tankers hijacked and taken care of in small harbours out of state. And sometimes... yes sometimes even people had to vanish into thin air, if reasoning was to no avail.

Today was such a day. There was still a little time before the video conference started, so Cara took out her mobile and dialed a short number sequence. Such calls she couldn't do on the phone on her desk, too great was the risk of someone overhearing.
„It's Nimueh. Is Keleth around?“ She waited a few more seconds, then spoke again. „It's time, Keleth, today's the day. The last attempt to sway Pendragon senior has utterly failed. Alarm the others. We meet at eight and get it over with once and for all!“ Not waiting for a reply, she hung up and leaned back, closing her eyes for a split second. But before she could really relish in her last idle minutes of the day, her cell phone rang again.

„Yeah?“ Her brows had been furrowed in anger about the intruison, but as soon as she heard the voice from the other end, they smoothened again and an almost catlike smile played around her lips. „Oh, look who it is... I didn't even know it was a full moon yet … … dancing you say? Sounds... intriguing.“ now she purred like a cat too. Whoever had called her was definitely fit to lighten her mood considerably. „But not before nine, my wild one! I have to kill a king first!“

[kinguthersqueen]

And now for something completely different....I've a feeling it's not *quite* what you meant, but I think it's an interesting take on the idea.

"I know that you will be a great king...a king that will make Camelot greater than it has ever been..."

"Yes, father..."

Uther's hand relased its hold on Arthur's, his body going slack chest falling still as the life drained from it. The old king had been poisoned by a group of rebels, and there had been nothing Gaius or even Merlin could do to help him. Arthur's time had finally come, and the bells began to toll outside, sounding the message to the people.
----------
Sometime during the 1950s

A loud cry sounded through the delivery room as the newborn's lungs found their footing and announced his arrival. His eyes were blue now, as all newborns' are, but they would soon turn hazel. Barely noticed at the moment was a prominent crease on his forehead, beginning at the right corner of his hairline and trailing down to the corner of his right eye.

"You have a son...a strong,healthy son" the doctor announced. "Have you chosen a name?"

"Rupert" his mother answered with a tired but happy smile. "Rupert Giles."

Years later, Rupert would spend many mornings pondering the vivid dreams that often filld his mind in the night,dreams of the clang of blades, the pounding of horses' hooves, and the magnificent castle where he sat upon a velvet throne in a realm now consigned to the domain of myth and fiction. He knew little of his previous existance, only that the life he lived now was far different, far removed from that time so many centuries ago.

He would see the evil of magic, yes, but he would also see its power for good, its use as a tool, reflected in the faces of the young people who came to be as his family, in particular a young, red-haired witch and a strong willed blonde, the most remarkable slayer to have ever lived.

[Guinevère]

<sup>Hush now baby don't you cry
Rest your wings my butterfly
Peace will come to you in time
And I will sing this lullaby

Know though I must leave, my child
That I would stay here by your side
And if you wake before I'm gone
Remember this sweet lullaby

The world has turned the day to dark
I leave this night with heavy heart
When I return to dry your eyes
I will sing this lullaby</sup>

Guinevère paced the floor in the darkened nursery, while softly singing to baby in her arms. Her voice was not the best in the world, but when she sang to her baby it somehow became the most important. No one else could calm him--aside from his father--when he was unhappy and not feeling well. His dark head, rested on her shoulder and his small fist was clinging to the satin of her dress. It would break her heart when she had to leave him for the night, but she knew that it was only for a few hours. She'd known this would be the cost to the gain she would make when she married the man she loved. For to be by his side, you had to give up part of your self.

She'd had plans for her life before she meet him. She had been working in Gaius Wing of the hospital as a nurse while working her way though medical school. She wanted to join the Doctors With Out Borders program and go to new places in order take care of the ones who could not take care of them selves. Before she was a nurse, she had been a maid in the palace. She'd been a maid to pay for nursing school, and nurse to pay for medical school. She had known it would take her longer to do it this way, but money was very tight, and she had the time. With her parents dead, and her brother an 'adventure' who rarely came home, and only a few friends--it had been easy to pour her self into work and school, leaving no time for play.

Everything had changed the day that the Sigan bridge had gone out thanks to a simi owned by the Cornelius company. That company seemed to be a curse to it's self as well as England for this was not the first time that they'd cause a disaster. She'd been assigned to the bridge as part of one of the many units who took to the streets to help take care of the so many hurt. One of the men she'd nursed had been the heir to England himself. He'd not supposed to have been in the area, rumor had it he was in the alps with some noble lady. Everyone had been surprised because there was a big race in town, and the prince had not been in it. Everything assumed he would and that he would win.

Turned out, he was trying to prove he could win on his own with out his father's name to back him. Guinevère could respect that, even if she had trouble respecting the way he talked down to everyone. Being he was injured and the race was postponed for a few days; she let him talk her into being flat mates for a few days, rather then him going to the hospital.

By the time the race came back around, she had feared for his life since he was racing injured. He had managed to not only survive but win. That had been the beginning of their love.

They had allot standing between them; his father's judgment, the press, and other prejudiceisms. Still, over the past five years they had not only married but had a son. Ameran was now almost two. Tonight, Guinevère would tell her husband that she would be giving him another child in eight more months. This time, she wanted a girl. Named for her mother.

Guinevère put her son down in his bed, and covered him up as the song faded from her lips. She stood there a moment, smiling down at him before turning to walk out of the room. As she left the room, she was immediately flanked on both sides by the guards that went with her everywhere she went. Gwaine on her right, and Percival on her left. Her dress--which cost more then she used to make in a month or two-- billowed and spun with her every step. She walked to the front door where another guard--Owen, opened the door for her as she walked past and down the steps to the waiting limo. Leon, the head of the guards was holding the door for her, and offered her his hand as she stepped in. He moved to sit in besides her.

Guinevère had the baby monitor in her hands, still and she left it on until the limo was too far for it to signal anymore, before she turned it off. Once they arrived at their destination, Leon exited first and offered his hand to her again. She took it to exit the limo but dropped it as she moved down the carpet. Leon lead the way, and Gwaine and Percival were on her sides once again, with another guard--Pelanor, bring up the rear. She did not look at the camera's having learned in her few years of being in their gaze that if you looked at the flash they would have you and you would loss focus.

Once inside, the men fell back, giving her room to breathe. But not for long-- "Arthur!" She smiled brightly upon seeing her husband and moved to kiss him. He asked about their son, and she gave him the details of her night. Too soon however, the prince and princess of England had to make their grand entrance to the ball. He held her hand as they descended the steps, and later in the night he waltz with her. It was then, in his arms that she whispered the news of the pregnancy to him. Once again the prince causes sandal by stopping mid-waltz and kissing his wife. But that was ok, his personal assistant (and also her best friend) got paid allot of money to handle his image. Yes, Merlin could deal with the press . . . tomorrow.

(¯`v´¯)
.`·.¸.·´ ♥
¸.·´¸.·´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.♥

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin opened the door to her flat quickly, almost as if she were in a rush. She was carrying a few bags of shopping that she’d picked up on the way home from work. She furrowed her brow at the silence, “Hello?” She called, but there was no answer; strange. She shrugged it off and made her way into the kitchen, setting down her shopping on the side before heading straight for the sofa. It had been a hard shift, she’d been on the early shift at the hospital and she supposed it would have bothered her more if she didn’t love her job as much as she did.

She shoved off her shoes and just let her body fall into the sofa, it was only midday, but she needed to sleep. She picked up her phone from the coffee table and groaned, there was a missed call from her Uncle Rouland. She decided to give him a ring back later, after all he’d only want to complain about Dristan to her and she couldn’t comprehend having that conversation at the moment. Caitrin and Dristan had practically grown up together. Rouland had been given custody of Caitrin when she was only eleven years old. Her father had run away and joined the army and left Caitrin on her own; her sisters had moved in with her eldest brother, but he’d seen Caitrin as too much of a handful to take her on as well. Therefore the courts had ruled that Caitrin had to go to live with her Uncle.

She had enjoyed growing up with Dristan, he had always been getting the pair of them into trouble with Rouland. Her teenage years had been happy, and when Caitrin had declared she had her heart set on nursing her Uncle had helped her choose her University course and had helped her with her expenses. She smiled and turned onto her side, feeling slightly reminiscent. Her hand fell idly to her belly and she found a warm smile forming on her lips. She would never have imagined, when she had felt the rejection from her father at the tender age of eleven, that she could ever be this happy.

The back door opened but she didn’t move, she knew who it would be. “I’m in here.” She called out and the footsteps got closer and closer until she found a familiar face looking down at her. She smiled as he leaned down and stole a kiss from her lips,

“And how are you today Mrs Aubert?” Caitrin sat up, running a hand through her hair and beaming at him, they had been married for just under a year now, but she still loved it when he called her that. He faultered but grinned again, placing a hand on her belly, “How are you both today?” She looked down to his hand which was laid upon her swollen belly. Caitrin was only six months into her pregnancy, but she was already itching to just have it done with, even if the prospect of motherhood was a scary and daunting one.

“We’re fine.” She smiled back, but gave a small yawn. Her 3am shifts had got more difficult and tiring the further she got into her pregnancy. Griflet sat down next to her and slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her softly so that she was lying into him, rather than the sofa. She gave another yawn and he started running his fingers through her hair softly and she closed her eyes. She could feel herself just relaxing, everything for the moment was just perfect; they were stable and they had their baby on the way. “I love you.” She sighed gently into his embrace and she felt the hand around her stomach squeeze her softly.

“I love you too Cait.”

[Griff Aubert]

Griflet Aubert grabbed his keys, pulled on his jacket and headed out to work. It was five o'clock and although he wasn't on shift for another two hours there was a staff meeting. He hated staff meetings. Why did he even schedule them? Oh yes, because Oliver would just get stressed if he didn't. It was a bar. How complicated was it going to be?

The only good thing about going to work, apart from being able to boss people around, was Holly. Many people named their motorbikes; they were idiots. Griff had named his ironically, so it was okay. Holly had been an eighteenth birthday present from his father, and as it turned out, his last birthday present from his father. He was now twenty two. When he'd complained about this to his older brother Lucan he'd just been told that his lack of presents was probably something to do with finishing university with nothing but a hoodie and an unbeaten rowing record. Apparantly that hadn't been enough.

Griff himself had no regrets about his education. He may not have a media empire like his father, or a high-flying career like his brother, but he had a good job, and a good standard of living and was happy about it. It was stress free, and great for picking up women. Free drinks were always well received.


**


Tonight was pretty hectic, well, every night was pretty hectic, but this one was especially so. There was a pretty brunette sat at the bar making eyes at him, only he was too busy because Lucan had made an appearance and wanted an actual conversation. Griff just wanted a jump.

"I really think you should at least try to talk to Dad." Lucan was saying while nursing a pint. Griff had no idea why he'd ordered a whole pint, he'd never drink it, but didn't say anything because that would lose him money. While Lucan was his only brother he had more than enough money to pay full price for his drinks. Relative discounts were non-existant.

"Why are we having this conversation, Luc?" Griff asked, leaning over, forearms leaning against the bar. "I haven't spoken to Dad in...two years? He's not exactly enthusiastic about seeing me so..."

"Maybe the reason Dad is less than enthusiastic about you and your life choices is because he paid for Eton and Oxford, and you ended up as a barman." Lucan paused and took a sip of his drink. Griff was just looking at him, waiting for the subject to be dropped. That wasn't going to happen. "And when he said "Here, have some money and sort your life out" I think he meant bribe a politician or takeoever a business or something."

"I have my own business!" Griff said with annoyance and gestured with one hand to the bar. Was that not good enough?

Lucan raised his eyebrows and said with a definite tone. "You have a bar, Griff. You have 'Bar Griff."

"I like the name." His brother replied petulantly.

"All I'm saying is perhaps you should think about getting in touch. You're his son. He can't ignore you forever."

Griff remained unconvinced. "Are you sure about that?"


**


It was two in the morning and Griff was staggering home. Oliver had said he'd lock up, which was good, as it wouldn't shut for another hour. He didn't meant to get this drunk, well, he didn't meant to get drunk, otherwise he wouldn't have taken Holly. He didn't like leaving her overnight, but it was either that or die in some horrific accident. Besides, a walk would do him some good, hopefully.

The walk wasn't doing him any good. Somehow he'd ended up on the floor, although he wasn't quite sure how. He remembered leaving Bar Griff and walking down the road, and now he staring up at a street lamp.

"Are you alright?"

Griff turned his head in the direction of a feminine voice. Ouch. "I don't know."

The woman said something quietly, presumably to someone she was with, and then there was a clatter of stiletto heels against stone and the young redhaired woman was leaning over him.

"Oh, hello."

The young woman ignored his tone and started looking him over. "What happened?"

"I was walking. Now I'm not. You're hot." He attempted to grin his flashy grin that revealed all his teeth and dimples and left women swooning. He managed a drunken, sloppy, lopsided grin instead.

The woman, seemingly unfazed, just rolled her eyes and said, "I'm a nurse."

Griff stared at her, squinted his eyes and asked, "Do you have a twin?"

"No, you have double vision. Come on," she pulled him into a sitting position. "I'm taking you to the hospital. You might have injured yourself. My name's Caitrin Archer, by the way."

"I'm Griflet Aubert, but you can-"

"I'm only telling you this so you can owe me a favour."

"Oh..." He seemed disappointed, and then he managed an actual and rather hopeful grin, "A naked favour?"

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Of course. Of course this old, borrowed car had to breathe its last stuttering breath in the middle of nowhere. In this blasted forest, miles from the next village… as far as she could tell, she had never been here after all! And no reception as well. Of course… this place looked dead enough to be a dead zone. Cursing under her breath, Yassia Dyfrène set out on foot, holding her phone up in the air before her like a diviner would do with his rod. These shoes were not made for walking on forest ground either… After nearly breaking her ankle two times in a row, she slipped out of them and started to walk barefoot. How stupid she must look! But that was apparently what she had come down to… who would have guessed a few months ago!

A few months before, everything had been alright. She had not been in cold and crazy England, marching through a forest that seemed to have jumped right out of a fairytale, she had been at home, and for her even more importantly, at work. That had been before her father’s untimely death had sent her whole world crashing down.
Diodore Dyfrène had been known in all Andorra and possibly many more states of Europe as the new Hotel King. His star had risen meteorically and had shone ever so brightly as he began expanding his hotel chain into all the bigger cities of Europe. His grandfather had once founded the source of his prosperity: The Ailanthan Palace, a noble hotel in Andorra la Vella, but by now the dynasty had prospered and expanded even more. Owner of the hotel chain was now the renowned Dyfrène Holding… an empire was in building… and Yassia had been the heir of this empire. A girl, grown up in riches comparable to any noble house in Europe, and brought up in the knowledge that one day she would shoulder the responsibility of this hotel empire, as her brother had died in a raid, as untimely as his father now had.

Visiting the best schools and passing the hotel management college with flying colors, Yassia’s future had been bright. She was young, beautiful and successful… a perfect little princess. And horribly naïve.
And this naivety had been her downfall in the end. She had not read the signs until it was too late, had refused to believe her own family would stab her in the back. Until just that had happened. How exactly her uncle Guifré had swayed the directorate to disown her of her right of succession Yassia would probably never know. All she knew was that he had used his own son to lure her into a trap she would never escape from unscathed. He had ruined her good name, had flagged her unsuitable and too young to run a business as grand as the Dyfrène Holding liked itself to be… and in the end she had left. Her mother had a brother in Surrey, England, that was all she knew about her family from the other side.

With nowhere to go and a pack of paparazzi at her heels like bloodhounds, Yassia had thought it best to go somewhere she was not known, somewhere she could start anew, or find help. If anyone could help her was questionable at best, though. With almost no money left at her command, she had started to see life from a very bleak point of view, and had realized that all her life had been spent in an Ivory Tower. She knew nothing about hardship and never wanted to.
Was this the lowest point? Marching through this godforsaken jungle with no direction and no prospect of help? Could it get any lower?
In the distance, she saw the trees clearing a little and she quickened her pace, in hopes of maybe reaching a village, but then she stopped dead as the ground under her feet simply… ended. Well, it didn’t really end, but she was standing at a slope, and down below ran a lonesome street. Oh just great! Now she would have to climb down and then up again on the other side… or maybe she should just follow that road? The road itself made a sharp turn at both ends, so it was very difficult to see any car in time that would come with quite some speed. A death trap for deer… and for people like her, stranded at the lowest end of the food chain.

Oh well, she had to risk it anyway if she wanted to get somewhere soon. Cursing lowly again – a trait her mother and father probably would have fainted at – Yassia began the descent. She had wanted to do it slowly, carefully, but the leafy and muddy ground was slippery under her feet, and so she began sliding soon, and picking up speed. Biting her teeth she tried to balance it out by making quicker steps, and soon she was running and sliding down the slope, arms extended for balance.
When she heard the roaring of the engine and the loud music, it was too late. She was in full swing and even though she tried, she could not react swiftly enough, crouching low in a desperate attempt to get away.
The screeching of tyres and the loud and desperate honking was the last thing she heard, and the shocked faces of five young guys penned up in the fancy sports car the last thing she saw, until the bonnet collided painfully with her left shoulder and sent her spinning around into an abyss of blackness.

---

Until she heard a desperate plea “Wake up… oh please wake up!” and opened her bloodshot eyes to look into a very handsome face framed by blond locks and blessed with eyes of disturbing blue intensity.