Chapter 13: The Battle For Camelot

"What is the meaning of this?!" Margaret screamed, her voice piercing the quiet of the courtyard as she descended the stairs, her robes sweeping behind her. She stopped a few feet away, pointing a shaking finger at Mary. "Arthur, how dare you bring this... this peasant filth into my palace! Get her out of my sight this instant!"

Arthur stepped directly in front of Mary and Aveline, his voice calm, heavy, and ringing with absolute authority. "Watch your tongue, Mother. You are looking at the true Queen of Camelot. Mary is my wife in the eyes of God, and this is our daughter, Princess Aveline. Your reign of terror over this family ends today."

Margaret let out a disgusted, venomous laugh, her lips curling with pure hatred as she looked at Mary. "A queen? You? You are nothing but a common tavern girl from Kingston, a stain on the bloodline who crawled out of the gutters of Hayden Barry. You think you can wear a crown, you hollow little nobody?"

Arthur lunged forward in anger, but Mary gently placed a hand on his forearm, stepping forward to face the furious woman herself. Mary didn't yell; her face remained perfectly serene, her voice filled with a wise, calm grace that stinged far worse than any insult.

"A crown is just a piece of metal, Margaret," Mary said softly, her words echoing clearly across the stone courtyard. "You have worn one for decades, yet your soul is entirely bankrupt. I may have run a tavern, and I may have been born a commoner, but I raised a child with love, and I kept my dignity intact. You built a throne out of crushed hearts and stolen lives. If being a queen means being as hollow, miserable, and unloved as you are... then I pity you."

Margaret’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with pure fury as Mary's calm words cut straight through her pride. She looked ready to strike Mary down herself.

Before she could speak, Sir Leon hurried to Arthur’s side, whispering urgently. "Sire, we searched the palace quarters. Queen Isabella is missing. The staff says the Queen Mother had her seized and held hostage in the eastern tower hours ago."

Hearing this, an explosive rage washed over Arthur. He turned fiercely back to his mother. "You held Isabella hostage?! Your own ally? You truly have lost your mind, Mother. You are completely crazy."

"She was going to ruin the alliance!" Margaret shrieked, backing away toward the palace line. "She is a traitor, just like you! Guards! Fulfill your oaths to the crown! Arrest the King! Protect Camelot from this rot!"

Instantly, the courtyard erupted into total chaos. The royal guards of Camelot pulled their swords, but their eyes were vacant, fixed on Margaret—her twisted mindset had been deeply instilled into their brains over years of rigid manipulation. Only Sir Leon and a small, select group of loyal knights drew their blades to defend Arthur, heavily outnumbered.

"Sir Leon, take Mary and Aveline to the secure bunkers!" Arthur roared, drawing his own broadsword as the first wave of corrupt guards lunged forward.

"No, Arthur, I'm staying with you!" Mary shouted over the clashing of steel. She quickly rushed to a nearby weapon rack left by the courtyard guards, pulling down a polished recurve bow and a quiver of arrows. In her youth in Greyridge, she had learned how to hunt; she knew how to fight, and her aim was deadly true.

While Sir Leon rushed little Aveline and a weeping, terrified Isabella—whom they quickly broke out of the tower during the opening scuffle—into the secure royal safe room, the war for Camelot officially broke out in the grand halls.

Arrows flew through the air with lethal precision as Mary stood back-to-back with Arthur. Every time a corrupt knight tried to corner the King, Mary’s bowstring twanged, landing an arrow perfectly in their armor joints, disabling them instantly. Arthur fought with the strength of a lion, his blade clashing against the men he had once led, his heart breaking but his resolve hardened to protect his family. Together with their few loyal knights, they fought systematically through the palace corridors, pushing Margaret’s forces back until, one by one, the corrupt guards were disarmed, cornered, and entirely conquered.

By evening, the great hall was packed to the brim. The lords, ladies, and common townspeople of Camelot had been summoned for a massive council.

Arthur stood at the high dais, his armor stained with the dust of battle, his hand firmly holding Mary’s. Margaret sat in heavy iron chains at the center of the hall, guarded by Sir Leon, her hair disheveled and her pride entirely shattered.

"People of Camelot," Arthur’s voice rang out, powerful and clear. "For years, this kingdom has been ruled by fear and deception. Today, the shadows are exposed." He gestured to the records brought forward by Sir Leon, revealing the illegal hostage-taking of Isabella and the plots against his daughter. "My mother, Margaret, has committed treason against the crown, against our allies, and against the people. By my authority as King, she is hereby stripped of all titles and permanently banished from the kingdom of Camelot, along with every knight who upheld her tyranny."

The crowd murmured in agreement as Margaret was aggressively dragged out of the hall, casting one final, hateful glare at the family she couldn't destroy.

Arthur turned to the crowd, his expression softening as he pulled Mary forward. "And it is my greatest honor to announce that the vacancy on this throne is filled. The new Queen of Camelot is Mary, and our daughter, Aveline, is officially recognized as the crown Princess."

The great hall erupted into a massive, roaring cheer. The townspeople rejoiced, their voices echoing through the spires as a new era of freedom began.

The following morning, the courtyard was peaceful as a single carriage was prepared. Isabella stood by the door, her trunks loaded. She looked tired, her heart broken by the hollow three years she had endured, but her face held a quiet, serene peace. She had always known deep down that Arthur's heart never belonged to her.

She turned to Arthur, a soft, bittersweet smile on her lips. "I suppose this is where our story ends, Arthur," she said softly, stepping forward to give him a brief, gentle final hug. "I don't hate you for loving her. I only wish you had told me sooner."

"Thank you, Isabella," Arthur whispered sincerely. "You deserved a husband who could love you the way you ought to be loved."

Isabella turned to Mary, looking at the new queen with genuine respect. She reached out, gently squeezing Mary’s hands. "You fought for him, and he fought for you," Isabella said softly. "You deserve to be the queen, Mary. Arthur made the best choice he ever could have made. Keep this kingdom safe."

"Thank you, Isabella. May you find the happiness you truly deserve back home," Mary replied, her eyes bright with gratitude.

Isabella knelt down one last time, brushing a gentle hand over Aveline's cheek and pressing a sweet kiss to the little girl's forehead. "Goodbye, little princess," she whispered.

With a final nod to the assembly, Isabella climbed into her carriage. The horses trotted forward, carrying her out through the grand gates as she headed back home to Eldoria in absolute peace.

Arthur wrapped his arm around Mary’s waist, pulling her close against his side as little Aveline gripped their hands. Looking out over the sprawling green hills of the kingdom, the people of Camelot rejoiced, the heavy chains of the past finally broken for good.