𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 || 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘊𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘉𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘱𝘵

SOME COULD SAY THAT DUNCAN HAD BEEN A HISTORY GEEK SINCE HE WAS JUST A CHILD. By some meant both his parents and Flora as they had been ones to bear to witness his multitude of boxes filled to the brim with history books. Call him obsessive, but he was knowledgeable in that entire field. Did him some good in History class back in high school, not so much any of the other subjects. Becoming a teacher had been his childhood goal, but with ADHD, there was no shot he could get anything done.

But the only reason he'd gotten into was his mother. Telling him these outlandish and almost imaginative stories that always had put him to sleep. When he got older, he learned that these were not just stories but actual things that happened in history. Recorded in books that would be found thousands upon thousands of years later. It astonished him every single time he thought about it and left him wondering if these were genuinely true tales and what happened.

Then again, Thor was real and so was Loki. How far off would he be to question the existence of other gods? Which had led him to sit in his living room, scrounging around in the boxes. Looking for all the stories of Athena and everything else on her. Alway's having had a weird fascination with the goddess of war. Perhaps it had been because her mother made this goddess out to be the most beautiful and dangerous woman ever. Or maybe he'd just been interested in this woman because of the correlation that she and Thena had.

Thankfully, he'd been able to research in peace as Flora had found solitude on the love seat with her headphones in. Having dozed off minutes after returning to their house and watering her plants. He hadn't paid much mind to her quiet mutterings to each plant. Knowing this woman's attachment for whatever odd reason it may be. He loved her as a sister either way.

The buzzing of his phone drew his attention. Placing down a book filled with tales that his mother had written straight from a book passed down by her father and his father before him. Picking it up to find it to be his mother.

A soft smile pressed upon his lips as he slid this thumb across the screen, placing the phone against his ear. "Hey, mum."

"Hello, honey," the woman greeted. "I thought I would check-in and see how you were doing. Did I wake you?"

Her worried tone made him chuckle. "No, mum," he assured, "I'm wide awake. Just doing some research. Haven't been able to sleep as of late."

"Oh, sweetheart," Samara cooed softly. "What has been going on in your mind, baby?"

"What do you know of Athena?" He asked as he silently thanked his mother for calling him at one of the best times. Having already spent hours reading, trying to align anything that may have correlated with King Arthur. Only coming up on manuscripts from his mother's collection speaking of the king as he had been unfaithful with Guinevere, yet she stayed with him. The specifics of how many women have ranged from half a dozen, but none that were specific to what he's looking for. Leading him to his first dead-end of the night.

A soft hum appeared from the other side of the phone and he was sure his mother was gathering all the information in her head. Bringing it all together in a nice and tidy pile for her to recall from and answer whatever her son may need.

"Athena," she said, "the goddess of wisdom and war. A true woman of class if you ask me." She quipped. "What is it exactly that you want to know?"

"Do you think, by some random chance that this woman is real?" He asked, standing from the couch and adjusting his glasses. "I mean, Thor is real, right? How unlikely is it that she is too?"

"Do you have some weird crush on this woman?" The woman asked. "Because these questions are kinda freaking me out, sweetheart."

"Mum," he exclaimed, "I'm serious here. I've been having these nightmares since I got here with Flora. I'm in King Arthur's body and I'm at sea in the middle of a storm." Duncan explained. "Then all of a sudden Guinevere shows up and is asking him why he left and all that. Then another woman by the name of Thena shows up."

It hadn't been a surprise that he was met by a bleak silence from the other end of the phone. Having unpacked all the confusion onto his poor old mother who didn't understand half of what this nightmare has done to his mind. Tormenting him, like a bully you would soon have to face at school and endure their onslaught of insults and hatred.

Only, this was a whole different animal in itself as this was only leaving him confused, flabbergasted and frustrated. "You said, King Arthur?"

Duncan half turned to Flora, still finding the woman asleep. Shifted from his tone that had risen over the sound of her music. But hadn't awoken from her much-needed slumber.

"Am I going crazy, mum?" He whispered. "I haven't been able to sleep properly for months. All I see is that damn nightmare. I know all its details and every word spoken, every damn emotion."

"You aren't going crazy, Duncan," his mother scolded. "Just slow down for a second and take a breather."

Doing as he was told, the man walked to his room and sat on the edge of his bed. "So, you said, King Arthur, correct?" His mother inquired.

"Yeah," he confirmed, "he's the guy I take control of in my dream."

"My father told me stories of the man that were passed down from his father and his father before him," Samara stated. "But what he told me could've been misconstrued over the decades from family to family. He spoke of a Dame that won King Arthur's approval and heart. I just don't understand why you are seeing these visions or whatever the hell they are."

It took Duncan a moment to play back her words in his head. My father told me stories of the man that were passed down from his father and his father before him. The slight realization hit him like a bag of wood dosed in gasoline and tossed into a fire. His confusion is now being twisted into anger with its grip tight around his heart. Burning it into a fiery red as he glared at the wall ahead of him.

"What do you mean, your father passed it down?" Duncan questioned but in some shape or form, he knew what she meant. He just wished to hear his mother tell the truth.

"Duncan, I-"

"No, what do you mean?" He demanded. "I've been here for six months and it's been absolute hell for me. I can't do work because I'm tired every damn day. So, if you know exactly why then you need to tell me what the hell is going on."

"I can't tell you," Samara whispered. "I... I just can't, Duncan. I'm sorry, but I can't let you fall farther into this than you already are."

"Do not realize that, maybe, you saying that might make me more curious?"

"You are a descendent of King Arthur!" His mother's words were yelled, out of pure annoyance or anxiety, neither to be confirmed. But that confession gave him the answer he had been expecting and it was safe to say he was lost.

"I never intended to tell you because there was no reason to for you to know," Samara told him. "I wanted to keep you from that side of our family and stop the cycle from continuing."

"That-" he paused. Attempting to douse the fire in cold water, hoping to stop it from spreading from his heart and to his mind. But his cautious and controlled breaths only fanned it and caused it to keep its hold on him.

"That was something I should've known, mum," he said. "For you to take that away from me was selfish and misguided."

"You think I wanted to?" She barked. "You think I wanted to keep the truth away from you? I didn't, but I had to! It has been the haunting piece of our family since King Arthur had been killed."

"And where's the sword?" He asked.

"I don't know," his mother muttered, "lost at sea I suppose as your nightmare tells enough. It better stay that way."

A sigh came from the man as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "What else don't I know?" He huffed.

"Dane's a cousin of yours."

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me!"

"This is what I was talking about!"

"Well, how would you expect me to react?" He exclaimed. "I've just been told that these dreams are of my ancestor and Dane is my fucking cousin. Does that make him a part of the bloodline then?"

The worst response for him was the bitter and bleak silence. It had him practically reeling as he stood to his feet and combed a hand through his blonde hair. Nail's scratching at his scalp, trying to process all the information.

Now, in a sense, he didn't blame his mother for keeping this hidden from him. Other than what she told, Duncan could only go off her word about their family's past. It just turned out to be a whole lot more complicated than he had expected. From his dream, Arthur felt mad, not in the sense of anger, but mentally had been destroyed. His mind was fragmented and picked apart for him the most important pieces and keeping them close.

And Duncan could only compare that to his grandfather who had died years ago. Before his death, Duncan and his mother visited the man in an old folk home. The man had completely lost it but remembered key details like his daughter and Duncan. Besides that, he was completely off his rock as he would rave on and on about being the crisp of finding something. Understanding it now, the man had been searching for Excalibur.

Duncan couldn't figure out or describe how he felt, truthfully. It all was just confusing and overwhelming, giving him a sense of what his mother meant.

"I'm sorry I never told you," Samara whispered. "I just didn't want you to go digging where you shouldn't. I don't want you to end up like your granddad."

"I understand, mum," he sighed, "I just wish you told me sooner. But this would explain why Dane and I get along so well. The bastard has a knack for pissing me off."

A soft chuckle came from his mother, it died off slowly and soon, she spoke. "Just promise me you won't dig deep into this," she softly demanded. "I care too much 'bout you to do such a thing."

"I promise, mum," he muttered. "I need to go. Thank you for telling me everything, I love you."

"I love you too, baby," Samara said. "Good night."

Walking back to the living room, he stopped upon seeing Flora having moved to the couch. Sprawled out across it with soft snores slipping past her lips. The soft tune of what Duncan guessed was Novo Amor. Having known the woman loved the man's music so much that she had all the vinyl and CDs for his three albums.

A soft smile pressed itself against his lips as he moved to the couch. Carefully lifted the woman's legs and sat on the couch. Letting them fall to his lap as one of his hands found one of hers. Holding it softly and feeling the tiniest squeeze come from the woman. Enough for Duncan to feel some sort of comfort with the decision he had made before his mother made him promise. One that he wasn't going to be able to keep.