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The Assassin's Comeuppance #15
🕑 Added 2022-07-06 17:30:59 +0000 UTC“You’re Morgana le Fay!?” Harry asked, surprised and the witch laughed.
“Surprised, are you? I don’t know why though,” she remarked, her lips curved into an amused smirk as she gazed at the two of them, “after all, I am regarded as the darkest witch to ever live. What makes it so surprising that I found a way to keep myself alive, and in my prime as well?”
Harry could only stare at her in shock. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that this entity would turn out to be none other than the witch who went toe to toe with the great Merlin himself.
“But you were killed. Merlin killed you.”
“Oh, you dear boy,” Morgana chided, “Merlin destroyed my vessel. My true self was safe. And I didn’t waste a moment thereafter. Thanks to the legendary works of my father, the great Maul, I have been able to live fulfilling lives for millennia. I’ve gone through so many bodies that I can’t even remember their names anymore.”
Harry gritted his teeth.
“But there’s one thing I remember all of them having in common,” she tapped her finger to her chin, “all of these women had their names ending in ‘na’, I loved my given name after all, and wanted to keep at least something of it every time I hopped bodies,” she grinned.
Elena looked up with wide eyes, only to find the witch staring at her.
“Oh yes little girl, you were not a random choice. I needed someone from a powerful bloodline whose name ended in ‘na’, and luckily, I found you all those years ago. The same with Valentina, I suppose. Although she was slightly older than I’ve been used to, she served her purpose well enough.”
Morgana looked at Harry and grinned.
“Now Harry dear,” she purred, “you came here, I assume you took the help of those spooks? Don’t bother thinking how I know. Only they would have any idea about this kind of magic. I should’ve destroyed all the copies of my father’s work,” she muttered, “nothing to worry about though. Once I am done here, I’ll take care of those rats and any other loose ends. After all, I've had a long enough vacation. I've been itching for some action for quite a while.”
What she didn’t expect was for Harry to chuckle. She looked on with surprise as Harry started laughing.
“Did I say something funny?” She snarled.
Harry continued to laugh as he took a good look at her. Even millennia old, she was a stunning witch, with an alluring figure and endowments. However, she didn’t hold a candle to the true beauty that was Elena.
“Tell me Morgana,” Harry began after he brought his laughter slightly under control, “do you have any idea how I stopped you last time?”
Morgana’s mind flashed back to when she had fought Harry in that room.
“The Draught of Living Death,” she whispered, her eyes slightly wide, and Harry grinned.
“You're the same as any other dark witch or wizard, too full of yourself to truly think. Even if you manage to somehow win here, how do you expect to overcome the power of that potion without someone to give you the antidote? No one will give you the antidote unless I go back and actually confirm that you are well and truly gone. This means you might get your control over Elena’s body back, but you cannot do anything. You’ll forever remain in the state of a coma.”
Morgana’s eyes widened in shock as she realized the truth in his words, and Harry’s grin turned feral.
“And if the spooks somehow decide to throw Elena’s body through the veil of death, which they surely will when they see I’ve not woken up despite time having restarted... well, wouldn’t that take you to the very place you’ve worked so hard to avoid? The realm of death himself?”
Elena grinned with satisfaction as she looked at the horrified face of the vile woman who had been the reason for her prolonged suffering. The bitch deserved everything bad to happen to her. She caught Harry’s eyes who winked at her, and she felt herself blush.
“So go ahead, Morgana le Fay, the darkest witch to burden Earth with,” Harry stated, spreading his arms open and pulling Elena close until they were pressed up together, “go ahead and kill us. But remember, if you do, you forfeit your life as well.”
Morgana stood there, stunned at the turn of events. Her mind started to work into overdrive, desperately trying to come up with something, anything, but no matter how much she tried, she simply couldn’t find any loophole in his statement. He was entirely correct.
No matter how much influence she had over Elena, she could not overcome the power of the Draught of Living Death, not without anyone out there to give the body an antidote. And if the spooks threw the body through the veil... She shuddered at the thought.
Seething, she glared at the smirking duo before sitting on the chair that materialized out of thin air under her.
“Alright then,” she clapped her hands and looked over at them, “let’s discuss terms.”
Harry chuckled.
“What makes you think that we will discuss anything with you? As far as the situation goes, it’s you who needs us. You won’t kill me because if you do, the ritual fails because of the passing of the host's soul, and you know what happens then. And you can’t kill Harry because you need him to go out there to get that antidote,” Elena crossed her arms under her bust with a smirk, and Harry wrapped his arms around her from the back. She shivered when he dropped a soft kiss at the nape of her neck. Morgana gritted her teeth at the display.
“What do you want then?”
“Well,” Harry began, “as I see it, there are only two options. One, you peacefully surrender Elena’s body and accept your death,” his eyes hardened, “or you can fight me and risk your death anyway.”
Morgana stared.
“I know I may lose my life if you chose the second option, but you’d die anyway. Accept it, Morgana, your time is over. You are going to die, whatever you choose.”
For a long moment, there was silence. Morgana was looking down, shadows covering her eyes as Harry stood there with Elena in his embrace. The young couple was immersed in this moment of togetherness after what had felt like an eternity as they looked at the woman sitting there on the chair.
“Should I assume that I cannot convince you to let me out and inhabit another body?” Morgana enquired with a quirked eyebrow. Harry chuckled.
“Only if you take a multitude of oaths. You’ll never practice or teach anyone any dark magic, not do anything that might bring any harm to any innocent, and destroy any mention of that vile ritual whenever you might come across it. The only way you survive is if you become an honest, good witch. Even then, I’ll agree to you inhabiting the body of an old woman who is on the verge of death. After all, that’s the least you deserve for the heinous acts you’ve committed.”
“I see,” Morgana muttered with a chuckle. It seemed that she really didn’t have any choice. Her mind wandered back, reminiscing a time that she vividly remembered.
“Very good, Morgana!” A gruff voice sounded out, and a seventeen-year-old Morgana turned to look at him with a grin.
“I did it, father,” she cried out, and Maximus le Fay looked at the intricate collection of runes carved on the floor. It was one of the most complicated arrays that she had ever worked on, and he was proud of the work his daughter had done.
They belonged to a raiding clan, hailing from Scandinavia and searching for greener pastures. However, such endeavors didn’t come without enemies, as they learned soon enough. Battles were frequent, some won, others lost, but every time, Maximus came back with bounty aplenty. Until one day...
“Father!” A young Morgana cried out as she saw her father being dragged upon the shoulders of another man. Said man did nothing but drop him off in front of her and walked off.
“Father, what happened to you!?” Morgana asked hysterically, looking at the tumor on his chest that seemed to be spreading slowly across his body.
“We faced some tough wizards this time, Morgana. A clan that goes by Peverell. Capable witches and wizards, that lot,” Maximus coughed, and Morgana’s eyes flashed.
“I’ll kill these Peverells for you father. I’ll avenge you.” She proclaimed with steel in her voice.
“Heh,” Maximus coughed, “that’s my Morgana, always so spirited. But not so soon, my dear,” he whispered.
“What are you talking about, father?”
“Listen to me, daughter,” Maximus urged, grabbing her smaller hand in his. Morgana looked at him, her eyes tearing up slightly.
“Yes father?”
“Remember how I always told you never to go into the cellar?”
“Yes father.”
“Well, the time has come for you to see what’s inside. Carry me down there, my dear girl.”
“At once, father,” she wiped her tears off and levitated Maximus in front of her. They came to a stop in front of a door with no locks.
“Wait,” Maximus called out once they reached the door, and slowly cut his palm. Dropping a few drops of blood on the runic engravings, they watched as the door opened.
“Let’s go,” he urged, and Morgana levitated him downstairs.
“Take me over to that altar and put me down,” he instructed, and Morgana did as she was bid.
“Father... what is all this?” She whispered, looking at all the blood and dead bodies that were submerged. She noticed another young man laying inside the pool of blood.
“My life’s creation, my dear child. Stand near the gate and observe.”
“Yes, father,” she whispered and walked away.
Over the next few hours, young Morgana le Fay witnessed one of the most fascinating as well as horrific pieces of magic in existence.
“Who are you!?” She cried out when she saw an unknown man rise out of the pool of blood after all those hours of standing by. Her eyes narrowed when the man chuckled.
“Answer me!”
“Why my daughter,” the man began, and Morgana’s eyes widened, “is that how you’ll greet your father?”
“Fa-father?” She stammered, “But how?”
“That, my dear, is something I’ll teach you soon. But for now, it’s time to pay back a visit to our dear neighbors who dared to harm me in such a manner. Come, my dear.”
Her surprised face gave way to absolute determination and she followed the man out of the basement.
During the next few years, Morgana fought alongside Marcus and killed countless witches, wizards, and muggles alike. Their acts often bordered on cruelty but they didn’t care. Such was the way of life. The strong stepped on the weak, and the weak either served or withered away.
Maximus, or Marcus as he was called now, told her all about himself. How he was actually Maul, a centuries-old wizard who had made Maximus his thirteenth vessel. He told her how she was not his actual daughter, but a child he had rescued from the clutches of death when he found her shivering in the snow on a cold, wintery night. How he had raised her to be the most ferocious witch of all time.
Morgana was stunned, but she absorbed everything like a sponge. She mastered the obscure magic that Marcus had to teach, and the more time they spent together, the tougher it was for her to relate the young man he was to the Maximus that he had once been.
As Maximus became Marcus, his personality also shifted significantly. The older man in the body of a younger one had his psyche altered with the transformation, and no one could relate the young man to the older one he had once been.
It also didn’t help that Morgana was a stunning witch in her prime, something that Marcus had been well aware of, given the fact that they practically lived together.
Thus, it was no surprise that after one gruesome battle in which they won, the two jumped each other’s bones right in the middle of the jutting corpses, overcome with their passion and bloodlust. The scene was as arousing as it was horrific as the dark wizard claimed his dark witch in every manner imaginable.
Morgana cried in jubilation every time her lover thrust inside her, her pussy quivering with every push as Marcus pounded away into her from the front and behind alike. Scars that could’ve been easily healed were left as is, and even newer ones formed, all to remember the first time they had given themselves to each other.
Numerous warriors joined their rulers in their debauchery, and the battlefield became nothing but a hive of lust as vultures fed on the corpses.
Centuries followed, and the two continued to hop bodies, sacrificing their children, both from each other and from other lovers, all in a bid to keep staying alive in their prime condition.
However, the centuries brought with them something previously unforeseen. The being who was once Maul slowly grew detached from the concept of staying alive. The issue gave way to a fierce argument between him and Morgana.
“Have you taken leave of your senses, Martin? Why the fuck would you want to die?”
Martin, the newest vessel of Maul, sighed.
“I’m sick of living, Regina. The constant killing, our own children no less. It’s become too much for me now. I can’t keep going like this.”
“You’re barking mad, Martin. You, who invented this ritual, are saying that you’re sick of living and killing? What happened to you?”
Martin sighed yet again.
“I just cannot do it anymore. I’ve been feeling the strain for a while now, and it’s taken me a lot of deliberation to reach this decision. Once this vessel runs its course, that’s it. I’ve decided.”
Regina fumed but didn’t say or do anything. Over the years they had walked off the forefront of conflicts and were living in luxury, fucking whenever they wanted to and making merry. Both of them had been with countless lovers over the years, but there was something else when they were with each other.
However, it seemed as if Martin had had enough of living. Well, he could go fuck himself. As she turned around to walk off, his voice stopped her.
“One day you’ll see, Regina. One day you’ll be faced with a situation that will leave you with no other choice but to embrace death. After all, death comes for all, no matter how much we run from it.”
“I’ve no interest in these philosophical talks you’ve made a habit of spewing out lately, Martin.” Regina remarked, not turning around.
Martin chuckled ruefully.
“Alright then. I’ve got one final request before you go. Once I die, please take my wand with you. It will serve you well.”
Regina glanced at the wand out of the corner of her eye.
“If you think I need another wand, you’re sorely mistaken. I am very much happy, and more than capable, with mine. Do whatever you want with your wand, Martin. I don’t care.”
Regina didn’t deign him with a glance and slamming the door behind her, she walked away, never to see Martin again.
Over the years, she forced down all the memories of them being lovers, and the only memories she preserved of him were those of a man who she revered, her father, Maul, the master of the esoteric arts. That’s all he was to her now, and she would carry his legacy forever, not the shell of a wizard he had devolved into.
With a sigh, Morgana looked up with sadness in her eyes at the couple standing in front of her. She had not paid Martin’s parting words any mind during all these years, but now that she thought about it, his words surely seemed prophetic.
Here she was, faced with a situation where the only outcome was her death, either instant or slightly delayed. She chuckled in disdain.
“So? What have you decided?” Harry’s voice prompted her to look at him, and Morgana tossed her hair over her shoulder to look at him.
“Let’s get the first thing out of the way. No way in hell would I agree to your conditions of that oath or to live in the body of an old woman. If I am to die, then I’ll die with dignity.”
Morgana stood up, and Harry braced himself, his grip on Elena tightening slightly.
“If I am to die, I might as well take something with me,” she grinned maliciously, “so what do you say, Mr. Man-who-conquered, would you like a dance to death with me?”
Without any delay whatsoever, a killing curse came soaring toward them and Harry pushed Elena away before throwing himself to the side.
“Come on, Harry. Show me that bravado you were showing just a few moments ago.” Morgana called out, flinging a Cruciatus that Harry barely dodged. Elena caught her footing and quickly turned around to see the witch grinning at Harry with a sick look on her face.
“You want to save your precious little Elena? You want my vessel, Harry Potter? Well, all you need to do is kill me in this spiritual realm.” Morgana snarled, throwing her arms wide and grinning maliciously as Harry glared at her.
XX
To be continued...
