Shadows of Uncertainty

Shadows of Uncertainty
This is the first story from the RPG Albion Rising.

Starring
Merlin Arthur Pendragon Guinevere Morgana Pendragon Lancelot Gwaine Percival Maire Clough Tegan Morgause Blackthorn McKenna Galahad Balan

Shadows of Uncertainty
Merlin



Between the people who called him friend, Merlin stood with his hands behind his back and sparkling eyes focused on the courtyard below. Those men and that woman (Arthur, Gwaine, Percival, Gwen) had never heard his secret and had never truly seen him in action, thus unaware of how dangerous he could be. If they found out, their lives would change forever. Would what they learned still be the truth or would they question everything? Could there ever be trust? If they found out, Merlin would be dead - plain and simple. A sword would be skewered through his chest or he would be tied to a pyre or drown or hung, like the man in the courtyard.

He was weary from the lies. The warlock foudn himself questioning who heactually was. Those untruths left a bitter taste in his mouth. Merlin never felt clean. He didn't like who he was anymore. He didn't like the lies. Desperately, he wanted to tell the truth. Shouting his secret from the tower would feel marvelous.

As the man in the courtyard was prepared for the hanging - the hood slipped over the head, the rope going around his neck, and him helped onto the stool - Merlin deduced he would indeed tell the truth. Maybe now was the time that his secret could come out. Maybe, Merlin could convince Arthur to change the laws once the man realized how magic had been an asset to Camelot. Maybe these unjust hangings could be ended.

Standing there, he tensed. What if things would ever change? What if he was killed. The thought angered Merlin. The warlock's jaw tensed as his hands balled into tight fists and eyes smoldered with repressed anger.

Arthur Pendragon



It was impossible to miss the low murmurs coming from the crowd below. Some were saying that the man deserved what was coming to him, but most were just murmuring trivial things because no one wanted to go against King Uther. Prince Arthur stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard as well as the stage and the victim who was up on it.

Even though he wanted to, Arthur knew better than to plead with his father for the man's life. He knew his father and how the king felt about magic, those who wielded magic and those who worked for sorcerers. It would be pointless to plead and beg because any words spoken would fall on deaf ears.

In his mind he knew what was going on down below was wrong. He did not have the hatred of magic that his father had. Arthur didn't fully understand magic but even so he didn't hate it nor did he want it driven from the world.

He looked away to study those that were nearby. Most of the townsfolk were looking at one another or they were staring at the ground; anything really to avoid looking at the stage where the poor man was about to meet his doom. Blue eyes tracked over all of them before rising and falling upon a head of raven dark hair and equally blue eyes.

Merlin. Arthur knew the younger lad had a soft spot for people in need. Heck, the younger man's views on the world in general had actually worked to shape the prince's views on things as well. Once upon a time Arthur had been arrogant, disrespectful and rude. What had the boy called him? A prat. Now though the prince knew he had changed for the better and he owed some of that change to his manservant…but he would never admit that to Merlin!

It was easy to see that the young man was tense. Perhaps he wanted to lash out or do something stupid, like trying to save the man about to die. Witnessing a death like that wasn't for the squeamish. "Merlin," Arthur muttered softly, making sure his father wouldn't hear, "Go back inside, do something to take your mind off of this. I don't want to hear you whining about it all day." He hoped that Merlin would follow his order but he wouldn't be surprised if his manservant chose to ignore it.

Guinevere



These things always happened on cold, gray mornings where the sun refused to shine. Gwen shivered, she hated when Uther decided to kill someone because they might have magic or they might know someone with magic. But he was the king and there were only a few people who ever had the heart to stand up to him.

Gwen stood silently in the courtyard next to her brother Eylan and the other knights. They were some of the only people Gwen felt at home with. These knights had become a family to her after her father died and her brother returned home.

While the man was being prepared for his hanging, Gwen wasnt quite sure where to look, so her eyes travelled from the ground, to scanning the crowd to up where the King stood. Next to him was his son Prince Arthur, her heart raced just looking at him. She had been in love with him for a while now.

She quickly looked away, blushing like crazy. As she did so her eyes caught the man who was about to die. Those fearful eyes made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. With a small gasp she looked down at the ground again.

Gwen was always the kind of person who would do anything and everything for a person in need but as she stood in the courtyard she just felt helpless she wanted to help this man but it was against the law to defy the king.

Gwen didnt see what was wrong with magic, she didnt trust it but she also didnt see it as a bad thing. If the right person had magic then it could be very good for the people around them. People with magic could heal and rebuild, it didnt always have to be destruction and pain. But it was not her place to say so. She just hoped that one day when Prince Arthur was king he would do the right thing.

Merlin



Eyes smoldering, Merlin looked at the man below. He'd gotten to know this person. His name was Drust, he'd been a cobbler. His wife and child had died earlier that year after falling off a horse. He had been a good man and loyal citizen of Camelot. Seeing him with the rope about his neck was just wrong. It angered him like few things had before. Magic pulsed in his veins, ready to act. Merlin willed it down – he was not prepared to unleash his powers.

He looked behind him Gwaine and Percival had left his side to join Lancelot, Gwen, and Elyan. Somehow in his revelry, Merlin had been left with Arthur and Uther. Feeling alone and vulnerable, the warlock felt his mood sour some more. Seeing them down there solidified his opinion of them – that they would turn their backs away from him when or if they found out the truth. But, didn't he deserve that treatment? Merlin was a traitor and a liar. Perhaps he should alone.

As Arthur looked at him, Merlin returned the gaze. But, it wasn't a friendly one; there was anger and coldness within those blue orbs. His lips were pressed into a hard, thin line. His jaw pulsed with pent-up energy and frustration.

"Is that an order," Merlin asked in a curt voice. He shook his head. "No. No, I'm not. I won't. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will take my mind off of this. I've seen it before, anyway."

At being accused of possible whining, bile rose in his mouth. He wrinkled his nose as he swallowed it down. "Is that how you see me? A whining, simpering manservant," Merlin asked. "I am far more than that."

Gwaine



Gwaine did not like this one bit. When he had joined up as a knight of Camelot, for Arthur's sake and certainly not the King's, it had been under the impression that he would be upholding the values of a knight. Justice, chivalry, compassion, respect among many others and this covered none of them. Sure he could be a cad sometimes, he liked a laugh and a drink but he certainly did not like the idea of men being put to death for no real reason and with no real proof other than Uther had said so. He had not arrested Drust and he was glad of it. He felt guilty enough that he was watching the man die. A man he had shared a few drinks with on a cool evening. He had been harmless and despite his tragic past, friendly and helpful. He was sure this was insanity. He couldn't bear standing with the Prince and the King, looking down at people as if they were nothing because it simply wasn't true. He was one of them. So without a thought he made his way to the courtyard to stand with the others.

He looked up as the poor man was led to his death. He would watch him, while many turned away. He deserved that respect at least. He kept his hand on his sword, just in case there was chance of reprieve and he would gladly get up there and help him but he knew there wouldn't be. Uther never showed mercy and he had to hold his ground.

If it wasn't for Merlin or even Arthur, Gwaine would have left this place long ago. He held no love for it, other than some of the people. He stayed because Merlin and the other knights were his friends, especially Percival, and he had a deep respect for Arthur. He hoped that one day the Prince would be come king and he hoped he would have higher regard for life than what his father did. The only positive thing that he could take from this was that he hoped Drust would join his wife and child and for once was not leaving loved ones behind. It didn't make this any easier. He would need a strong drink after, duty or not. It was enough to shake up any man... apart from the king that was. Gwaine stood silent keeping his thoughts to himself and keeping his dark eyes on the man in front of them.

Percival



The morning wasn't bright, the sun didn't even want to poke it's head out from behind the dark gray clouds that circled above the courtyard. It knew all too well what this day meant, what it brought. A man, accused for being of magic, was to be put to death. The worse thing about it was, was that Percival was the one to arrest him. Durst, the poor man, had been accused of sorcery playing and unfortunately with King Uther at the helm, any sorts of whispers like that brought with it a permanent consequence. It had rained earlier in the morning. Percival was up, had watched it unable to sleep. Yes he had killed many before, but this was different. There was no evidence, only words, the man could be innocent. He wasn't sure he could stand to have innocent blood on his hands, but what could he do? If he defied the King's orders it would be him upon the stage getting the noose around his neck.

Was this cowardly? Should he have spoken up and demanded there be proof before he rode off to arrest the man? Should it be him walking through the thick mud from the early morning rain, getting food thrown at him. Led up the steep stairs and stand before the people of Camelot for crimes against the King. Percival wasn't sure, but part of him kept saying it should be him, he should be killed. Another part of him kept telling him that this was his job, he had to protect the people, there was nothing more he could do. His muscles were tense and taut, as was his jaw as he watched the proceedings, the reading of the man's crimes, the boo's of the crowd. It was disgusting and guilt was eating away at his insides like a termite to wood. He was sure that soon there would be nothing left but holes and soon he would crumble to dust.

To his left stood his best mate, Gwaine, fidgeting and clearly distraught about the whole thing. Who wouldn't be? Besides those brainwashed by the views of their loving King. Percival sighed and looked to his friend, even though the man was silent, he knew what he was thinking. He placed a large hand on Gwaine's shoulder, it was a comforting gesture, no words were said because there didn't need to be. They both knew what it meant. Slowly his hand fell and they clasped together in front of him as he drew in a large breath. It was cold without the sun.

Arthur Pendragon



Arthur knew what his father was doing was wrong. There was no real proof that the cobbler had done what he had been accused of but now that Drust was dead what did it matter? The prince followed his father back in to the castle, informing Uther that the two of them would need to talk later.

After that Arthur had gone to his chambers and there he currently was listening to his manservant rant on and on about how he couldn't take it anymore. To be honest Arthur was barely listening until he heard the last little bit of Merlin's sentence.

He was silent, searching the younger man's face for the truth. Merlin had just openly told him that he was a sorcerer. Was the lad serious, joking or just plain nuts?

The moment passed and then Arthur chuckled, not believing his manservant in the slightest. "You have magic?" he asked, more or less repeating what Merlin had said, "Merlin I know you are upset about what happened and I know that Drust's death was unnecessary but you must be careful who you say those words to. If it were any one else they would have gone straight to the king."

It was because Arthur didn't believe Merlin at all that he didn't automatically go to the king or at least summon the guards. "You know what openly admitting that means." Arthur said.

He for one didn't want to see his manservant sentenced to death and then beheaded, strangled or burned at the stake just for saying he had magic.

Merlin



Merlin half wondered if Arthur was deaf. The Prince had not responded to anything the warlock had said and Merlin had been ranting for quite a while. The list had been long. After speaking, the warlock found himself breathless – as if he had just run for miles without taking a break. Part of the heavy breathing was probably due to the anger he felt and the adrenaline it sent coursing through his veins.

However, Arthur's hearing abilities were proven to be strong when the Prince finally looked upon the warlock. While Arthur looked him in the face, Merlin stared back. His lips were pressed into a thin line. His jaw was still tight and pulsing. His blue eyes smoldered with anger, hurt, and weariness. There was no doubting his sincerity.

Then, the Prince laughed a little. His anger surged, as did the magic within him. It pulsed underneath his skin as it begged and screamed to be released. Merlin fought to control his abilities and keep them at bay. "I am not joking," Merlin snapped. The warlock didn't find this situation funny in the slightest.

"I am a sorcerer. I have magic," Merlin repeated. His stood tall and proud while he spoke. "I was born with it." He took a deep breath and exhaled. He did it again and again.

He sneered at the Prince. "Oh, how naïve you are…how little you truly understand. Of course I am upset about Drust's death. But, it's more than that. It runs deeper than that. I've been here for years and I see people killed for who they are. No questions asked. Men and women are just killed without blinking an eye. The situation is never examined deeper," Merlin began.

"Sure, I've kept my tongue. I had to. I'm not stupid and I'm not an idiot as much as you'd like to believe. I had faith in you and this kingdom that things could be better at some point. But, no…no things are just getting worse," he continued in just as defiant of a tone.

Merlin shook his head as he thought about the city. "This place, because of fear and lack of understanding, is in an eternal stalemate. Camelot's going to fall. I thought things could be different…they could be better. Someday, there was supposed to be a world called Albion where all the lands were united. I believed it. I believe that I was to play a role in the birth of that nation. I was told I would. So, that belief makes me the naïve person. But, not anymore, I am done playing that role. I am done believing things could be better. Camelot is going to crumble," he concluded.

"Don't lecture me about who I say those words to! I know. I know what happens," Merlin hissed. He raised a hand and sent a little ball of light sailing around the room just to prove he wasn't joking. When the light dissipated, he lowered his hand. "What are you going to do? Kill me?"

Tegan



Tegan stood up and stretched her sore legs, she had been tracking some deer for a few days and she was ready to go home.Tegan was tall and slender, but toned and fit, she also had piercing steel gray eyes that flashed when she was angry. Her long blonde hair was in a braid that ran down her back almost touching her bottom. She gave a sharp whistle and two huge Alaunt dogs ran to her side. She knelt down again and scratched behind their ears as they came up. Her father, one of the Elders, had given her these two as pups, she called them Bear and Avalon. Bear was big with a black and brown coat and coal black eyes, while Avalon was white with blue eyes.

Tegan had not seen any tracks and she was frustrated, she knew she had to get some food soon or all the druid camp would have to eat was fruits and vegetables. "You ready to go home, guys?" she asked and Bear barked. Tegan laughed, "Well lets go then.". She climbed up on her gray horse and rode off back to the camp.

She reached the camp a little after noon, and she dismounted her horse and tied it outside her tent on the outskirts of the camp. She was a good fighter, she hunted and she tracked so she liked to stay where she could easily get out and protect the ones she loved.

Tegan unsaddled her horse and brushed it before taking it to the small paddock she had built for her other horses, she had three all together, she used them to teach the younger druids to ride. She had offensive magic but it was hard for her to simple tasks with magic, she knew she would have to learn as she grew. Her father had taught her that.

Tegan made her way through the camp with Bear and Avalon at her heels. Then she saw Morgana and Maire both looking upset and faint. "Heel." she said to her dogs and raced over to see if the two girls were alright. "Morgana! Maire! Are you alright?" she asked as she reached then. She reached over to steady a weak Maire. "What happened?" she asked worried. She had known Morgana and Maire for a while now, and it troubled her when they were like this. It meant something bad had happened.

Guinevere



Gwen finished up the laundry, and carried it up and into the hall on her way towards the King's chambers and she sang quietly to herself. Anything she could do to keep her mind off of what had happened earily that day, less than and hour ago. All she wanted to do was get as much space between her and those horrible gallows as soon as she could but for right now she had to do her job which meant walking past them every once in a while.

Gwen stopped to chat with a servant, who was histerical because her sister was having a baby. Gwen set down her laundry and rushed to help her take her sister to Gauis, and then raced back to grab the laundry before the King spotted it and told her off for forgetting to do her chores.

Gwen carried the laundry passed the armoury and took a peak inside. She knew how to fight, in fact she knew all about armour because her father had been a blacksmith. She kept walking but wasn't paying attention to where she was going when she ran head long into someone. "Oh sorry." she said looking up to see who it was, and her cheeks immediately when red.

It was Lancelot, her feelings were all muddled, she was in love with Arthur but she was also in love with Lancelot. Gwen remembered when she first met him, a long time ago. He had been a man with no knighthood, but still passionate and caring. She had fitted him for his armour and then suddenly he had been banished and was gone. She had been hurt but she knew it was better for him to go then to face the full wraith of King Uther. "Lancelot...."she said breathlessly, "How are you?"

Maire Clough



Maire felt the soft wave of friendship and caring emit from Morgana. It made her smile a little bit, although it made her feel as if the woman was taking pity upon her. "You needn't do that, Morgana. But, thank you," the Empath said in a soft voice.

As Morgana greeted her, the empath curtsied a little bit. Maire's mother, when she was alive, had taught her what proper manners were and the young woman felt the need to use those skills. The freckle-faced Maire looked Morgana in the eyes for a brief moment and then adverted her gaze. Her mother had taught it was impolite to stare. Also, it was unnerving for her to gaze at someone too long. It opened her up to a wave of emotions; that was something she strove to avoid, lest the empath wanted to pass out or being driven insane from the feelings (both of these things she did not want).

"I worry more about us being found, not about how much I feel. I know if Camelot's knights find us, we'll be killed no matter how much we fight," Maire replied with a weary sigh; a hint of her Mercia accent lilted her words. "It can be hard…to feel so much. But, I have learned to block it. The emotions of others are like white noise, a slight buzz or tingle within me. Only the most severe feelings, those that are very strong, are what I experience."

As Tegan neared her and Morgana, the young woman looked toward the blonde-haired woman. "I can't speak for Morgana, but I am fine. I just haven't slept well lately. Emotions are running rampart in Camelot. It's harder to ignore," she said, stepping away from Tegan. While she was thankful for the attempt at comfort, touch made her a little uneasy. She also did not want to be seen as weak or in need of support. "Another person in Camelot was killed," she whispered. "I felt his death. No surprise at that, though."

Arthur Pendragon



The prince was silent and unmoving for several seconds as his mind tried to register what the hell he had just seen. His manservant wasn't making it up! He did indeed have magic and so...and so...and so what? What should happen next? Arthur knew the laws about magic and those that wielded it, but surely that couldn't apply to Merlin.

Then again...

A deep sense of betrayal washed over Arthur. In the back of his mind he was unsure where all the anger was coming from but he was angry at Merlin for not telling him sooner. If Drust had not been killed would the younger man have continued to keep it a secret?

"You know better than to speak to me like that Merlin," Arthur warned as he reached for his sword which lay on the table. It was little more than a practice sword that the younger man had neglected to return to the armory but at that moment Arthur was glad the raven haired man had forgotten.

Taking up the sword, the prince gave the blade a quick once over. It wasn't sharp but it wasn't completely dull either. It could in fact kill someone if the person wielding it was skillful; which Arthur was.

Pointing the sword at his manservant Arthur said, "I should kill you right now. The law is quite clear when it comes to matters like this, however..." The prince paused and lowered the blade a little, "I am not my father. Merlin, by the power vested in me I hereby banish you from the land of Camelot for the remainder of your days, under penalty of death. You have until tomorrow morning to depart. I do however promise you that the king will not find out about your secret from me. Go in peace but do not return."

Arthur fixed Merlin with a look that said he was very serious in what he said. The prince needed someone whom he could trust and it was quite obvious that he could no longer trust the one person he had thought he could always count on and that knowledge hurt more than any wound could.

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana shrugged off Maire's comment about being found. "I expect the Knights of Camelot would find more than they bargained for, should they attempt to attack us," she said quietly. "Separately, we are easier to find and terrify, together …" she smiled. "Besides, I'm sure Arthur will have enough to worry about from Morgause and Cenred's alliance."

She looked at the young empath. She did pity her, not because of the cost of her abilities, but because she always seemed to feel she had to endure everything on her own. If there was one lesson that Morgana had had to learn, it was that no one could survive without the support of others. The few weeks she had tried that after escaping Morgause's enchantment had almost cost her her life. Had the druids not found her, ill and alone, she would not be here amongst them today.

She turned when Teagan came up to them and hugged the young druid gently. "I too, saw the execution," Morgana admitted, unconsciously turning toward the City. "I am hopeful, though. Arthur did not appear as … unaffected … as he has been in the past. Perhaps, he is growing up and away from Uther's methods."

The former Lady of Camelot blew out a breath. "There is nothing we can do for him now, but we must expect more refugees on the heels of this execution. I must go with a few of our scouts to ride the perimeter. We may have some unexpected guests for dinner tonight."

Gwaine



Gwaine looked at Percival. He would have smiled to know his friend gave him the small bit of comfort but he couldn't even manage that. Just as he looked back the man dropped and Gwaine felt a lump stick in his throat. He didn't even have the dignity of his neck snapping, the poor man strangled, his death drawn out, probably by Uther's design. Gwaine felt sick, a sensation only added to when they cut Drust down and simply through his body on a cart. He nodded to Gwen as she gave him her own show of support. Sweet Gwen. Gwen that he had had a crush on when he first met her but knew nothing would come of it. Gwen was the sort of girl that one day, he wouldn't mind settling down with, having kids with, teaching those kids how to sword fight, ride horses, run around after with laughter on all their faces. It was his dream. A dream he had thought he might find within the walls of Camelot. A dream that had become a nightmare. The knight stood there for a moment before turning to Percival.

"I'm going to the tavern. I need a drink."

He turned on his heel and made his way through the streets. His usual smile was completely absent. This was awful. He hated this part of his job. He wondered if it would get any better and if it didn't, how long could he keep doing this? But how could he leave. He wondered if he would go mad.

Gwaine walked into the Tavern ordered an ale. He moved over to the table where Durst used to sit, he raised his tankard in salute before beginning to drown his sadness in alcohol.

Tegan



Tegan nodded and stepped away from Maire, she didn't want to seem over protective for the empath, she cared about both women deeply but she knew when enough was enough. "I'm glad both of you are okay, when I was your faces I feared that something had happened here in the camp." She anger surged as Maire told her about the killing in Camelot, she toed the dirt with her boot. "They have been happening more and more. I fear if this continues it will be like it was twenty years ago in The Great Purge. Uther has gotten more blood thirsty as the time goes on. He has said he wants peace, yet here he is killing one of his own people, magical or not."

Tegan gently hugged Morgana back, she knew of Morgana's visions but it still worried her that a woman so young was seeing death at every turn. "Arthur is a good man, from what you have told me and from what I have heard from my adventures into Camelot." she said truthfully, she too hoped for a better life than what they were living in now.

Tegan nodded, remembering last time a man was killed for having magic, nearly twenty refugees had found their way into their camp. " I just wish there was something we could do....anything." she said fiercely, her temper rising again as it always did when she knew that injustice was going on.

Tegan looked up at Morgana, "I was going to go teach some of the children how to ride today, but if you will have me I would like to go with you." she mentioned hopefully. "There is always room in our camp, and enough food too." she laughed.

Blackthorn McKenna



The old druid shuffled through camp, carrying armfuls of leaves and stalks which left a visible trail behind him as he wandered towards his tent. His keen eyes took in everything that was going on in the camp. Most of the druids and their guests were going about their business as preparations for the evening meal were starting.

Blackthorn paused for a moment, sniffing the air. He let out a dissatisfied snort when he could not detect the scent of roasting meat. Too many of these modern druids were convinced that living in harmony with nature meant not sampling of its full bounty. He could live on roots if he had to, but they did nothing for his sensual nature.

Something was afoot though. He saw the three women, all lovely, standing beside Morgana's tent. There was Morgana, the ambivalent sorceress, who had far more power than she knew, Maire, the empath, a sweet beauty whose lovely eyes had seen too much, and Tegan, tall and strong – how she reminded him of an elf girl he'd once known … The three of them together, faces creased with worry could not be a good sign.

Ah well, he'd hear soon enough what had transpired. For the moment, he needed to get his hayflowers into water and then … yes, a nice long nap before dinner. He cast his appreciative eye over the women once more then sailed through the opening to his tent.

Lancelot



Everything was too much, the pain was starting to ebb it's way into his own heart, Merlin's pain as well as the innocent townsfolk. Lancelot pushed his hair from his face and held his hand to his head as he rounded the corner just ahead of the armory. He did not expect to run full force into Gwen, ahh lovely Guinevere.

"Oh I'm sorry Guinevere. My head is not in it's right place." Looking up from the floor he noticed the one single tear making it's way down her face, though she made no move to wipe it away, she was clearly oblivious to it being there. Slowly, he leant forward and used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away, as gently as possible. Lancelot had feelings for the young woman, no doubt about that, but things never ran smoothly for love in Camelot. When he had been banished, his thoughts were only for those he left behind, Merlin, and of course, Gwen. He had wanted so desperately to return, just to see her one more time, but it could never be. Not until he had shown the King he was worthy, saving both Uther and his son in an attack on a hunting trip; Arthur had still had to appeal to his father, who had given the Knight one more chance.

He was brought out of his reverie when he realized Gwen had spoken. "Oh, again, my apologies. I shall be honest, I have been better, these days never get any easier to handle. I was just thinking about Merlin." Darn it, seeing the confusion in Gwen's eyes he remembered only he knew of the warlock's secret. "I mean, having to deal with Arthur on days like this, I can't imagine it would be easy. And having to stand behind him, as if he is ok with what is happening."

There was silence for a short while as he looked into Gwen's caring eyes; if only things were easier and they could all have what they wanted.

"It looks like it's wearing on you too. Come, lets take a stroll, try and take our mind off of things for a while." Holding out his hand, he hoped his love would accept.

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana's eyes swept the horizon. "We'll have to hope that Arthur finds a way out from under his father's … my father's tyranny," Morgana said quietly. "I fear that he is set on a knife edge and the events happening in Camelot may tip him one way or the other." She smiled at Teagan. "He certainly has the potential to be a good man and a good King."

Over Teagan's shoulder she saw Blackthorn come back into camp. As usual, he leered at the three women as they stood talking. He seemed harmless enough, but Morgana felt … uneasy around him. Though she'd been at the Druid camp for more than two years, she still knew next to nothing about him, but that seemed to be true of everyone. She shrugged, he was a great healer, she'd been the beneficiary of that herself. Blackthorn had great skills as a medicine man, and the group was lucky to have him, what with all of the refugees they attracted, most of whom needed some type of healing.

She turned back toward Teagan, "Of course, you may ride with us," she said smiling. "Your tracking skills have come in very useful in the past. I'd like to leave in an hour or so. That will give the people fleeing Uther a chance to get far enough from the citadel that we won't be in any danger. I'll come find you when we're ready to leave, alright? I need to change. I hate riding side-saddle so I'll need to find some britches to wear. See you soon, ladies."

And the former princess whirled and entered her tent.

Tegan



Tegan listened intently to Morgana as she expressed her hopes for Arthur and Tegan felt them mirrored in herself. She wanted a more peaceful and happy land where they didn't have to hide anymore. "But there is always hope." Tegan reminded her friend with a faint smile, reassuring herself as well. "Every man has the ability to be a great man. Evil and good depends on their actions that lead them to greatness."

Without looking Tegan heard Blackthorn approach his tent behind them, she could feel his eyes on her and sighed. He was a good man but a little strange at times. She could also tell he was carrying something because of his labored breaths. Tegan had always had keen eyes and ears, that is one of the many reasons she was such a good hunter.

Tegan grinned at Morgana's acceptance, she had only just gotten back into camp but with the news of the death in Camelot she was itching to go out. She bowed her head in thanks to Morgana's compliment. "An hour then." she said with a bright smile and turned to look at Maire "It was great to see you. Now go get some sleep, I am afraid you might fall over right here." she said with a soft laugh, showing that she meant no harm.

With that Tegan walked off towards her tent, she whistled for Bear and Avalon to join her, and they appeared like ghosts in the night. "Good dogs." she said lovingly and quickened her pace, she wouldnt be taking her dogs with her this time. She didn't want to scare any of the refugees.

As Tegan reached her tent she held the flap open for the dogs to enter and then said simply "Stay.". Then she ran over to the paddock and whistled, her three horses approached. One black, one gray, and one white, "We will have to be almost invisible." she told herself. Reaching up she grabbed a bridle from a tree and gently tacked up her black horse. She lead the horse to her tent and tied him to a tree so she could gather the weapons she needed. All there was left to do was wait.

Guinevere



Gwen blushed at Lancelot's words and she pulled away as the tear fell and he wiped it away. She nodded sadly at his words and said softly, "These days are hard on everyone except the King." She tilted her head to the side as she watched Lancelot's face when he mentioned Merlin. "Now Lancelot, I can tell when you are lying. What is going on with Merlin?"

Gwen shyly took Lancelot's hand and lead him through the castle, they passed Prince Arthur's room when something caught her eye. It was Arthur pointing a sword at Merlin. Normally Gwen wouldn't have thought anything of it, the Prince and his manservant were always fighting but they were best friends so they got over it. But this time something was different, a strange light shone in Merlin's eyes and Arthur looked hurt and betrayed.

Gwen caught the last of what Arthur was saying and gasped, she let go of Lancelot's hand and stepped forward, rage and confusion boiling inside of her. She was normally a sweet person but if you made her angry, well it wasn't a pretty sight. She made her way toward the door about to speak but yet she paused. She waited silently for Merlin to speak to reason with Arthur before Merlin was gone forever.

Merlin



Merlin stared at Arthur. His eyes were dark blue, not pale and sparkling (as they usually were). He tracked the Prince's moments, which were at first nonexistent and then minimal. All the while, the warlock kept his magic in check. It was an arduous task. Merlin wanted to let his gift fly free and show Arthur exactly was he could do without breaking a sweat.

Merlin wasn't sure what would happen if he didn't release his magic. It was creating intense pressure in his chest and he found breathing to be difficult. The force and strain was making him sweat and ache.

As the Prince picked up the sword, Merlin's head cocked. He actually wasn't surprised at this move. It disappointed him, but it didn't surprise him.

"Do you think I care how I should speak to you? I have seen so much and sacrificed so much without anyone knowing. I watched my childhood friend die all the while he took the fall for something I did. The windstorm, that was me! I nearly lost my mother and Gaius to save you. I held the love of my life as she bled to death from a wound you caused. I held my father as he died. Balinor was my father. No man is worth my tears, ha! That's a joke. I poisoned Morgana to save you and Camelot. It's why Morgause took her. Every day, I hate myself for it, but I tell me it was done for the good...no the love....of Camelot and that I had to do it because it is my destiny to help you become the great King ever known. But, it's all lies! That supposed destiny, it's not going to happen. I can't see how. So really, I don't care. Kill me if you want."

He took a step back. He wasn't expecting that. "Fine. You go ahead and tell him. Tell him the truth. I don't care. I am tired of hiding," Merlin replied, looking Arthur in the eyes.

Merlin heard a gasp. His eyes flicked to the open door. "Go, Gwen. This is not your fight. This is mine and mine alone," he instructed.

Maire Clough



She nodded. "Yes, you are right. I just can't help worry. I am sorry. Some of us are not as strong in skills as others," she replied. Maire was one of those people who wasn't strong in her abilities. The empath had no other magic skill except to sense emotions (which she had found was useful for finding someone who had gotten lost). She was also barely adapt at wielding a sword. Maire feared she would end up being a hindrance if there ever was an attack.

Feeling the flash of anger, Maire backed up. She staggered a little. Breathing shallowly, the empath steadied herself. "Fear makes people do rash things," she whispered. "And he fears us and our ways."

"We are helping and doing. We give sanctuary to our kind. Without starting a war, what else could we do," she asked, looking at Blackthorn. In the last few months, Maire had noticed him staring at her. She didn't understand why or what his interest was.

"Yes, it was...good," Maire said, feeling awkward. Being around people made her nervous. "I will. I think I will ask for a sleeping draught. I don't want to, but I need to."

She walked to Blackthorn's tent. Peeking her head in, she asked, "May I come in? I am in need of a sleeping draught."

Arthur Pendragon



Arthur never faltered even when Gwen entered the room. He supposed that the scene must have been pretty shocking because he was holding a weapon towards his manservant. Merlin was angry, that was easy to tell. The only question was a simple one - was Merlin angry enough to use his magic to harm someone?

That question burned brightly in Arthur's mind. He wanted the younger man to go in peace, quickly and quietly. He didn't want to have to use the weapon on Merlin but if the warlock poised any sort of threat to Camelot, the prince knew he would have to use the weapon. The protection of Camelot had to come over everything; friendships included.

"You say you don't care but you know what will happen should my father find out. He will not stop hunting for you. He will use anything and everything at his disposal to find you. Most villages will not harbor you and many innocent lives could be put at risk. I am not willing to risk the lives of innocent men, woman and children on some bloodbath that could happen. Are you?" Arthur asked.

The prince hoped that Merlin wasn't going to be willing to risk the lives of innocents. Uther was a monster when it came to hunting people with magic and anyone helping them in any way; at least in the King's eyes were just as guilty as the sorcerers, warlocks and sorceress's out there. They would all burn together.

Arthur tore his gaze off of Merlin and looked at Gwen. His blue eyes were filled with regret and determination. He didn't necessarily want Merlin to go but there was no choice in the matter. The younger man had to go, for everyone's sakes.

"Guinevere, instruct Lancelot that he is to escort Merlin from the castle grounds and to see him safely to the borders of Camelot. Lancelot is to make sure that Merlin does not harm anyone." Arthur said, risking a glance back at the warlock as he said that.

Blackthorn



Blackthorn looked up quickly when he heard the swish of his tent flap. The young empath, Maire, was framed in the doorway, her skin pale and dark circles sat below her eyes like smudges of soot.

"Come in,come in," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "What can an old man do for such a lovely young girl as yourself? Sweet lavender perfume, perhaps? Maybe a love potion to capture the man of your dreams?" he grinned, running a hand down his chest.

It was concerning that the girl looked so tired. He knew about her powers and wondered what knowing everyone else's feelings would cost oneself. He plucked a few bay leaves and crushed them in his palm. The bittersweet smell filled the air in the tent, sending a relaxing scent balm through the space between them. "That's better," he said, folding his hands in front of him and settling carefully on a stool by the brazier.

"I saw you speaking with the witch and the hunter. It didn't look like good news. Has something bad happened in the camp? Does someone need my help?"

Merlin



Merlin looked at the Prince with mouth agape and eyes filled with incredulity. Was he really serious? Did Arthur truly feel the need to lecture him? Merlin really could not believe Arthur had the gall to tell him all of this.

"You act like I am a fool or idiot! You speak as if you think I am clueless to the world and how it treats people like me," Merlin replied. "It is you who doesn't know. It is you who do not live my life or understand. My own village mistrusts me and fears me. Most think I am a monster. Even I think it. Never before has there been a person like me. Never before will there be another like me. I was born with my abilities."

He shook his head. No, Arthur didn't understand. Merlin didn't think he could comprehend it. Arthur didn't seem to fully grasp the enormity of the situation or who exactly Merlin was.The Prince didn't even react to the fact Merlin had admitted to attempted murder.

"Do you think I would willingly endanger anyone? Do you think any village would want me to stay in their borders? Hardly. I do not plan on going near any civilization. So, Uther can hunt me all he wants. But know I will defend myself and know that Kilgarrah will protect me. He is my kin and we are bound to each other. Uther won't capture me...at least not alive."

"I will only attack if provoked," Merlin promised after Arthur said something about the possibility he'd cause harm. Was that how Arthur chose to view him? Did he have hat little disregard for him? Was the prince that blind to who Merlin actually was? Did the blonde really think he'd go around attacking unsuspecting indivuals?

The warlock felt there was nothing left to say. He pushed passed Gwen and strode into the hallway. Walking by Lancelot, the warlock didn't even look at the knight. He didn't stop until he was at the physician's quarters.

Gaius was gone. Taking up parchment, quill, and ink, Merlin wrote, "Arthur knows the truth. My secret is out and I'm banished. Good bye and thank you." Leaving the note on the table, he packed up a water skin as well as some dried fruits, flatbread, and jerky before heading to his room. Recovering the dragon statue, his magic book, blanket, and some clean shirts. He shoved them all into a bag.

Without looking back, he closed the door and headed back the way he had gone. Spying Lancelot, he asked, "Shall we go? I'm ready." He had no reason to stay. There was nothing left for him here.

Maire Clough



When Blackthorn looked at her, Maire smiled as she returned his gaze for a brief moment. Then, the freckled empath averted her gaze (it was only proper). "Thank you," she said, entering the gaze. Standing within the dwelling, Maire curtsied a little.

At the suggestion of perfume or a love potion, the empath couldn't help but shake her head as she giggled a little. "No, sir. I need neither of those things. I do not wish to woo a man in such a manner, although I doubt any sort would be interested in me. My abilities often unnerve those around me. I am not sure I could handle such an intimate relationship anyway," she replied.

"What I need is a sleeping draught. I usually can ignore what I am feeling, but right now there is so much turmoil and fear within Camelot that It is keeping me awake. It's as if I am in the city, not a day's ride away. Those who have come to our camp are radiating with fear, anger, hurt, and sadness," Maire explained.

She shook her head. "No, nothing happened within the camp. All is well here," the empath replied. "And I doubt you can help. Morgana saw a vision of a man hung. I felt it," she replied. "Now, they are going out to see if there were any runaways from Camelot."

Lancelot



Much to his regret, Gwen noticed his slip of the tongue regarding Merlin. He was mad at himself, it had been an unspoken promise between the two that neither would ever mutter a word of Merlin's ability, and now he had near enough shown someone that there was more to the young man than met the eye. "Honestly Gwen, I meant nothing by it other than him being so close to the action." Lord, he hoped she asked no more questions, he wasn't sure he could continue to lie to her, it was one thing to lie to a friend, but lying to Gwen seemed so much worse.

Thankfully, Gwen accepted his hand and they walked in silence for a short while. It was only when Gwen stopped and paled slightly that he realised something was wrong, and it clearly involved Arthur. Standing just ahead of his chamber doors, Lancelot heard muffled talking and raised voices, nothing uncommon between Merlin and the Prince. When Gwen released his hand, he looked on to see the horror and rage on her face; he was too far forward to see what was taking place beyond the door.

Taking two small steps forward, he caught the last few parts of conversation, hearing words like 'magic', 'monster', and 'capture'. He also heard Arthur instructing Gwen to get him to take Merlin to the borders of Camelot, right before said warlock pushed past the young woman and storm towards him.

Saying nothing, both men began walking towards Gauis' chambers, yet he stayed behind when Merlin entered, thinking he needed the time alone. Lancelot was disappointed with Merlin, after all he'd said, after the promises he'd asked him to keep about his magic and now he just shouts it out to the prince without a second thought. It wasn't right, anger never solved anything, and, although he knew how much a strain it must be to keep, yelling your deepest secret that could result in you dead was not the answer to anything. However mad he was at Merlin, his task now was to keep him safe and that is what he would do.

Noticing the boy, he looked up to see packed bags. Being too lost for word and not wanting to scream his rage at Merlin's stupidity, he simply nodded. He was ready physically, but was he ready mentally to say goodbye?

Blackthorn



Blackthorn regarded the girl with concern. "You can sense feelings in Camelot?" he said, his voice gentle. "Your powers are great indeed. Please have a seat, if you wish. I'll make you the sleeping draught while you wait. It should only take a few minutes."

He bustled about the tent, eyeing the dried herbs that hung from the suspension pole. He chose a bundle, sniffed, tasted, then rejected it in favour of another thatch that appeared older and even more desiccated. He ground the herbs into a powder with a mortar and pestle, adding water and honey. His eyes blazed gold for a moment and the mixture boiled in the bowl, changing colour from muddy to a clarified green.

He decanted the liquid into a small vial, sealing it with wax and a cotton cap. Gently he handed the tonic to the girl. "This should help," he said, smiling. "And I wouldn't give up on men just yet if I were you, young lady. There's plenty about who have their own … eccentricities … who might find your powers and your beauty, quite enchanting. Particularly those freckles, tell me, do you draw them on? It must take a great deal of patience." He smiled broadly.

For a moment he looked grim. "Another execution," he shook his head. "Uther is a blind fool. I suppose if Morgana is going out to round up more refugees, I must prepare for more wounded. Sometimes I wish this war would just get started already, instead of this endless dripping faucet."

He turned then, seeming to remember the girl in the tent. "If you find this isn't strong enough, come back and I'll enhance it." He began to gather up the dried pods and husks that coated his work table.

Arthur Pendragon



Once the warlock was gone Arthur quite literally threw the sword down on the table and then angrily walked over to his bedroom window, not even bothering enough to watch the heavy sword skitter across the table and almost fall off on the other side. If it had fallen off he would have left it on the floor. Who was to care anyway?

He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath before opening them. He didn't want to admit it; not about Merlin at any rate but maybe his father had been right. Maybe every single magic user was dangerous, arrogant, hateful and definitely a danger to everyone and everything. Arthur had seen a side of Merlin that he had never seen before and right then and there his mind wandered back to all of the conversations the prince had had with his father concerning magic.

Arthur squeezed his hands in to a fist but managed to keep them at his sides even though he wanted to punch them through the window. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen the young man for who he truly was? Perhaps he had been enchanted.

A part of him immediately began to regret letting the warlock go, not after witnessing what Merlin had done. Yes what the raven haired man had shown him was harmless magic but so what? Magic was magic and needed to be dealt with. Had he really held his friendship with someone over the protection of his and his father's people?

He needed to do something to calm down. This was getting him nowhere. He needed to get out of the castle for awhile...hmm...suddenly it came to him - hunting. Yes, hunting would work! He remembered the question Morgana had asked him. 'Hunting things mends a broken heart?' Yes that was what she had asked. "No, but it's good fun," he muttered under his breath.

That settled, Arthur turned from the window, walked across the room and exited through the open door, having to squeeze past Gwen. He didn't stop but did slow down from his brisk pace to see if she would follow him or not.

In hind sight he knew he probably should have grabbed his armor and chain mail but it would just add another element of danger to the hunt, besides he had no idea where Merlin had stashed the items since the chain mail had been in need of polishing and the armor had had a few dents in it that he had told the young man to fix. That had been the day before so who knows where the armor and chain mail were now!

Arthur strode through the halls, heading towards the armory. He knew he would have to take at least two knights with him on his hunt; procedure and all, but he could just as easily order them back to the castle after they had ridden out with him.

Plan in mind, the prince strode with a purpose he had never really felt before. Damn Merlin! Deep in his heart Arthur hoped he never saw him again.

Maire Clough



She nodded at the question. "Indeed, I can. What I feel is not as strong as what I feel from those close by, but it's enough to experience the moods of Camelot," Maire replied. "It's the only thing I can do with my magic. I have no other abilities."

After Blackthron told her to take a sear, Mair perched herself on the other stool. With an inquisitive eye, she studied the man as he worked. "Thank you. I look forward to getting some rest," the empath replied.

She looked at the vial he handed her. "Again, thank you. I do not think I need anything heavy. I am already tired," she said. "Do you need me to do anything in repayment for the draught?"

With the comment of her looks, Maire blushed. Her cheeks were a violent shade of red. "Perhaps there are, but perhaps I don't want to get close," she mumbled. Maire didn't want to be hurt, nor did she want to join in a partnership where she would be subjecting herself to being deliberate close to a person, thus acutely aware of that being's emotions.

"No, sir. I don't. They came naturally. When my family was alive, they had a farm and I worked on it," Maire replied with a polite smile.

Weakly, she shook her head. "Yes, sir, another one," Maire said. "And indeed, she and Tegan are out looking for more refugees." The thought of war made her sick to her stomach and shiver. Maorewanted to be nowhere near such a travesty.

"All right. Thank you. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help," she said. Standing, the empath left the tent for her own.

Lying down on her cot, she uncorked the vial. Tipping it's contents into her mouth, she wrapped her arms and legs around a pillow as she lay on her side. Eyes flickering closed, Maire fell asleep.

Merlin



"Good," Merlin replied. His words were short and curt. He was still furious. He was also ready to defend himself if need be. That feeling actually bordered on wanting to pick a fight, but just barely. With bag over his shoulder, he stomped rough the halls with his smoldering eyes trained forward and hands balled into fists at his side.

He didn't know where his anger had come from. Sure, he was mad about Drust's hanging. However, what had spewed out was furry long built up. Merlin assumed that every death made him angrier and angrier. Of course, he had never said anything about it until then, so it had snowballed within him. Merlin was also mad about the lies, the secrets, the destiny he'd tried to follow, and so many other moments.

Not seeing Leon, Elyan, or Percival, Merlin sighed. That was good. He didn't want to find out how they would respond. He didn't want to be disappointed by their actions.

Nearing the pub, he noticed Gwaine inside. A little part of him had hope for him. Maybe, just maybe, he would accept his abilities. Sadly, Merlin doubted it and did not hope for a good response. "I'll be back in a minute. Come if you want," he said.

Entering, he went over to Gwaine. He stood with his arms to his side and his shoulders squared. His eyes were just as dark and smoldering and his jaw just as tight. "I'm leaving," Merlin said. "Leaving the castle, this god-forsaken, crumbling city behind. Never to return unless I desire my life cut short." he probably made no sense, but Merlin didn't care.

Lancelot



Lancelot wanted to say something, anything, to try and get his head around what was happening, it was all unraveling so quickly. Though, seeing the look on Merlin's face and hearing the bitter anger in his voice, he chose to stay silent. He was pretty sure he would just say things in his own anger to rile the warlock even more. So he followed his friend through the halls of Camelot, only glancing up occasionally.

As they neared the edges of the citadel, the results of Merlin's actions finally hit him. He was going to have to say goodbye to one of his best friends. However mad and disappointed he was in him, he had always expected them to be a part of one another's lives. It was only his fury that stopped him from letting the tears fall.

Lancelot followed Merlin towards the tavern, but stayed behind slightly. He stood in the shadows not wanting to interrupt, but close enough should he be needed.

Guinevere



Gwen was utterly confused, she was silent either with horror or with rage as Merlin yelled about magic. Merlin....magic. Gwen couldn't believe it, sweet Merlin, the man who wanted nothing more than to help anyone in need. She shrunk back as Merlin pushed passed her but her eyes were on Arthur the second he was gone.

Gwen flinched slightly as Arthur threw his sword roughly on the table, and he angrily went to the window. "Arthur..." she began but she saw the look on his face, and fell silent. It was only when he squeezed past her and paused to see if she would follow that she got her wits.

"Arthur." Gwen called and followed after him, this time her voice stronger. "Arthur stop!" She got in front of him and planted her feet. Softly she touched his face, she could see pain as well as anger, she was feeling the same way. Why had Merlin not told her about his magic...she was reliable, she thought they had been friends.

Gwen lowered her hand and crossed her arms, "What the hell was that?!" she said abruptly, realizing that Merlin had been her friend. Everyone's friend and he hadn't betrayed them, they were betraying him. "I know you are upset that someone so close to your heart could lie to you like that, but think on this. Has he ever done anything to harm you, me, the knights? I may not like that he has magic but I could have learned to accept it but...now" Gwen broke off tears in her eyes. Merlin had been one of her dearest friends, and now he was gone. "Now I will never know the real Merlin."

Arthur Pendragon



Arthur heard his name being called but still he didn't stop walking, that is until Guinevere passed him and then planted herself directly in his path, forcing the prince to stop or run in to her.

He gave the smallest of flinches when Gwen touched his face but just like that the touch was over and then the anger came up. What the hell was that...what?! Had Gwen really said that to him? Was this Disrespect the Prince Day?

To his credit Arthur silently listened to the maid servant. She had said that she knew he was upset that someone so close to him could blatantly lie to his face like that. Gee! Was it that obvious that he was upset?!

Next Gwen had asked him if he had ever known Merlin to harm anyone; himself, the Knights or Gwen herself. "Now I will never know the real Merlin." That sentence caused Arthur's already heated blood to start boiling and steaming in anger.

"The real Merlin?" Arthur asked as he tried to keep a civil voice with Gwen, "What makes you think we would have ever seen the real Merlin? He could have continued to lie for years if not his whole entire life and we would have never known. Have I ever seen Merlin hurt someone? Not yet but given how angry he is today over the cobbler's death...him striking out was definitely possible."

In truth he didn't know why he was explaining his actions to Gwen. Maybe he was trying to justify them to himself as well. "If Merlin used his magic in anger and hurt someone, the King would have surely been told and then Merlin would be in the dungeons if not dead right now, and if he used his magic to escape the castle...my father would hunt him to the ends of this earth. He would not stop until the sorcerer is dead. Banishing him is the lesser of those two evils and I will be honest with you...my friendship with that man ends the moment he leaves the city."

Once again Arthur squeezed past the maid servant. He was still undeterred from his plan to go hunting; killing something that wasn't Merlin would help to calm him down...at least he hoped it would. "You wish to know the real Merlin?" Prince Arthur asked before he walked off, "the real Merlin is a sorcerer, a liar and a danger to everyone and everything in Camelot. I even blame myself for believing even for one moment that he could ever be a loyal friend. He is nothing to me, but even so I won't be the one to end his life."

The Prince stopped talking for a moment and then he said, "If you still count Merlin as a friend maybe you should go with him." That said, he turned and walked through a door down to the next level. He didn't banish Gwen he just gave her the option of leaving if that was what she wished to do.

Going to the armory Arthur quickly chose the sharpest sword, his favorite bow and quite the number of sharp arrows. He carried the weapons out of the armory, through the halls and down the main steps of the citadel.

Within seven minutes three saddled horses were led up to the steps. Apparently someone had told the young man in charge of his steed that he was standing outside. Going up to his horse Arthur quickly secured the sword to the saddle and then passed off the bow and arrows to a knight.

The knight and his friend who was also in the red cape of Camelot looked at each other but didn't say anything. It was all too clear that their prince needed their presence so after stashing the weapons by the empty saddles, the two knights mounted their horses and once they were up, Arthur mounted his beautiful steed as well.

Without a word Arthur spurred his horse to go in to a slight trot. Instead of going through the Lower Town, the Prince chose to take the back way out of the castle which would take him right past the town. Within several minutes they were over the drawbridge and out of the castle.

Arthur spurred his horse in to a gallop, only stopping when he had just gone in to the thick trees. "Give me the bow and arrows." he instructed the two knights. "My Lord?" they asked, but when Arthur gave them both a steely eyed look they handed the requested weapons over.

The prince swiftly attached the weapons to his saddle for easy access and then ordered the knights back to the castle with instructions to inform his father that he had decided to go on a hunt and wouldn't be back for several days.

Once the knights had headed back, Arthur gigged his horse in the side, making the horse break in to a trot and then in to a full out gallop. He wanted to be away from the castle as fast as possible.

Tegan



Patience was never one of Tegan's virtues, after a long while of waiting she stood and left her tent. Before she did so she grabbed her black cloak and turned to her dogs, "Stay." she repeated. Then she left and lead her horse through the camp til she reached Morgana's tent. "Morgana? Im going ahead. I'd like to look around for a bit and check for tracks of other hunters so we don't get confused and run into problems."

With that Tegan climbed onto her horse and tapped its sides urging it into a trot. As soon as they were out of the camp, she urged her horse into a canter, she didn't want to go to fast for fear she miss something. She heard a rustling behind her and she turned quickly, coming out of the bushes were Bear and Avalon. She reined in her horse, frustration coursing through her.

Tegan couldn't believe it, her dogs were normally so obedient. That means someone must have been in the woods hunting and they got excited. Suddenly something caught their attention, and they sniffed the air curiously. Tegan looked at them, knowing what was going to happen next. "Heel." she said slowly, but the smell of Camelot was to appealing for her dogs who had never been this close to the city. She hadn't realised just how close she had gotten. She swore as Bear and Avalon took off towards Camelot. She flicked her horse's reins and it sprang forward and galloped after the dogs.

Tegan pulled on the reins and slowed as she entered Camelot, her keen eyes searching for her dogs. She caught sight of them sniffing the door of the tavern. Tegan sighed and dismounted, tying her beloved horse to a post. Then she slowly walked over to her very excited dogs, "Bear...Avalon." she called sweetly, knowing that one wrong move would get them even more excited and uncontrollable. Avalon looked at her and started towards her but then the door swung open and Bear ran inside. Avalon followed her brother excitedly, Tegan swore again.

Pulling her hood up she entered the tavern and looked around for her dog, she found them bounding towards a tall, attractive man with long brown hair and sexy brown eyes. She went to approach him but something caught her eye and she saw another man approaching him, this man was angry and didn't look in the mood to be interuppted. Tegan sat at a table in the corner and watched as her dogs reached the man, she had no idea why they went for this man but there must have been something about him.

Tegan laughed a little to herself as she watched Avalon put her front paws on the man's lap, desperately trying to lick his face. She was a big sweetheart after all. Bear on the other hand was trying to get the man's attention by butting his head against the man's arm. Bear, the impatient one. Tegan's keen eyes scanned the room for a second then went back to the man.

Lancelot and Merlin



Merlin found himself annoyed by the presence of dogs. Truthfully, he had always been a little frightened of them. As a child, one had bit him. That had been his first experience with infection and stitches. "It seems you're busy. I'll go," he huffed. "Ask Lancelot about the truth. He'll tell you."

He turned on his heel and headed out without looking at Lancelot. The warlock knew he was following. Quietly, he prepared his horse and mounted it. Pressing its sides, he rode off.

For the good hour they had been riding, Merlin had stayed quiet. His pupils had gone oddly small and his breath came out in short, pitiful gasps. All color had faded from his face, too. In that time, the gravity of the situation had sunk in and Merlin found himself slightly panicked. He'd admitted the truth – the whole truth – to Arthur and he had been banished. His ties to his destiny had been severed with Merlin's actions. Merlin had no purpose; he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

The warlock felt defensive. That was brought on from the hurt of banishment and the reaction of Arthur as well as the sense of being lost. Merlin felt as if he were on high alert. Indeed, he was. Any little movement and Merlin was ready to fight. It was now kill or be killed. Survival was all that mattered.

"I had to tell him," he finally said to Lancelot. "I was sick and tired of the lies and the secrets. I was tired of seeing people die! I couldn't. I could stand it anymore. While I hoped things would have gone differently, I am not surprised."

The ride was nothing akin to their usual rides, full of humour and frivolity; now it was quiet, full of tension and had the proverbial rain cloud hanging over the whole journey. Lancelot never said a word, he was still unsure if he could keep his anger controlled if he spoke. Gazing at Merlin, he saw the boy looking far more paler than usual, it seemed the fight had left him a little.

Merlin was jumpy and every time he flinched at a sound, Lancelot would jump too. Each falling leaf, each snapping branch caused by fleeing animals resulted in the both of them turning towards the source. Though, looking at his friends face, he did not quite see the regular fear, but a firm stance he only usually saw in his fellow knights.

Taking one deep breath, he hoped he would not burst when answering Merlin. "I know you feel you had to tell him, but I think it was...I...." He sighed. "Merlin, I really think you took one step too far, you shouldn't have told him. I too am sick of seeing people, innocent people, die but it is my duty to protect this land, and everyone in it. Including you. How am I meant to do that when you aren't around for me to protect?!" Now his sadness was taking over, though the anger still seeped through. "Things should have gone differently my friend, but I feel both you and Arthur are to blame for that."

Merlin shook his head. "It's not your job to protect me," he said. "It never was and it never will be. You have your roles reversed." His voice was quiet and low. There was tint of betrayal and determination to his words.

"I never told you this, but years before I was born…it was prophesized that my destiny was to protect Camelot and to protect Arthur. I was supposed to keep him alive so he could become king and unite the lands of Albion. I've been working towards that goal ever since I came to Camelot," he explained. "And, truly there is no one like me. I was born with magic. I didn't learn it. I am the most powerful magic user there ever was or ever will be. I am more than that. I am magic."

He sighed and then continued his speech, "With that power I can protect myself. I don't need protecting. As I said, it's not your duty to protect me. It never was."

He looked out and thought he saw movement. "But, the prophets were wrong. I am not going to be around to protect Arthur. No matter what happens, Camelot is going to crumble…to fall. Things aren't changing nor are they ever changing. It was painful to try to coax my destiny into existence, only to have the truth shoved in my face. That truth was that my destiny was a sham…a lie…a dream that would never be."

Of course Merlin didn't need protecting, Lancelot took his protection too far sometimes. He knew first hand that Merlin could protect both himself and an army of knights. He was ashamed he'd even thought or spoken the words.

Listening to Merlin's words, Lancelot took them in with astonishment. A prophecy? A destiny? It all made sad sense now, how Merlin would put his life in danger for Arthur, stopping at nothing to make sure he was safe, but he had just put it down to good friendship before now.

"I'm sorry Merlin. I know you can protect yourself. It was just my natural instincts. But now I know how capable you are. Again, I apologize." He looked down, slightly embarrassed.

"It's all right. Most don't know what I can and can't do. Most just see me as Merlin, the bumbling, foolish boy from a farming village who's too loyal for his own good," he said. The words were not really aimed at Lancelot. "Even you couldn't…can't fathom my abilities. That is how it was supposed to be. It was safer that way. I have enemies, Lancelot, as well as admirers who lust after my abilities like a starving dog lusts for a steak."

How could Merlin say those things? How could he turn against Camelot so quickly? Yes, the killings were appalling and unaccounted for, and yes it was getting harder to smile through the day, but hearing the words made Lancelot's stomach churn. Anger rose once again in his chest, the feeling of disappointment and betrayal growing with it. After everything, his friend was going to throw it away.

"I know how hard it is to make things happen, believe me, I know. I mean for heaven's sake, I was threatened and banished by Uther for lying to him about my parentage just so I could become a knight." The anger was filtering through with each word. "I tried everything to get the life I had always dreamed, but I never gave up, even when I could have died I came back to Camelot. Whether this destiny is real or not, you shouldn't give up your friendship and life for..." Now he was being silly, of course everything was too much for Merlin, he just wished it had ended differently, on better terms. Now his voice was soft and back to his original tender nature. "Just, promise me you will stay safe."

"I will. You don't have to worry about me. I will stay safe. I can protect myself," he said, glancing to his side. He definitely saw movement. He held up a hand to silence the knight so he could listen. There was no other sound. Shrugging, he continued on.

Lancelot turned to a swift movement of the trees, 'probably just a deer or birds', he thought. Continuing to ride, he heard the noise again, on the same side just a few trees forward. Shadows seemed to lurk in the undergrowth and he could have sworn they were human like. Checking his weapons with no sudden movements so as not to spook Merlin and the possible attackers, he grabbed the hilt of his sword at the ready. He really hoped it wasn't Uther's men finding them so soon.

Merlin felt edgy, as if someone was watching them. He kept his gaze peeled on the horizon when suddenly, there were arrows flying towards them. "Run! Go back to Camelot. Save yourself," he shouted to Lancelot.

The warlock jabbed the sides of his horse, urging the beast to go faster. Merlin couldn't see where he was going – the wind was blowing his face and making tears stream down his face. The arrow's kept flying at him (and probably at Lancelot). One of the projectile struck Merlin in his back while another imbedded into his leg, making him scream out. Shocked at the hits, Merlin wavered. To keep himself from falling off, he tightened his grasp on the reins.

His ability to stay on the beast was short-lived. He felt his horse's hoof got stuck under a root, which sent him flying through the air and the beast falling to the ground. Merlin hit the ground, cracking his head on a rock. The last thing he saw before falling into unconsciousness was a bandit tearing through his bag while another posed to drive his sword in him.

Gwaine



Gwaine hadn't moved, Just continued to slowly drink. Every so often the barman had come over and topped up his tankard. If he had had one for each drink, the table would have been pretty full by now. He was just getting to the bottom of another when he looked up to find Merlin standing in front of him. The servant looked like was both angry and sad. Gwaine frowned. The frown only deepened as Merlin said he was leaving. Just as he was about to reply he was suddenly bombarded by a pair of large dogs. He laughed as one practically tired to climb on his lap and lick him to death. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his head away. Merlin's parting comment only barely registered.

"Now where have you two come from?" He didn't expect a reply obviously but he was very drunk and dealing with two large animals was more complicated than usual. He managed to push the white one off his lap so he could make a fuss of both of them. He looked around but he didn't notice anyone at first that the dogs could have belonged to. He knew most of the people in the tavern and none had dogs like these until finally his eyes fell upon a figure he didn't know. He managed to stand up even though his balance was a little wobbly and made his way over to the woman who had tucked herself in the corner. If he had been less drunk he might have been a bit more weary but as it was all he saw was a pretty lady he could try his charm on.

"Hey there. I think I've got a couple of things that belong to you."

Tegan



Tegan was confused when the angry man suddenly backed away from the drunk man, who her dogs were loving to death. But that faded from her mind as the man spotted her and made his way, clumsily towards her. She tensed for a second realising that this man was a knight of Camelot. If he found out who she was she could be in really big trouble. Trouble that would leatd her to her death.

Tegan tried not to laugh as the man spoke to her, he was obviously flirting with her. She shook her head and acted casual "Im so sorry! I hope they didn't bother you to bad. You see they are my brother's hunting dogs and they just don't listen to me. I tell them to sit..." Bear and Avalon sat. Tegan inwardly fumed, out of all the times for them to not have listened to her they had to pick this one to be perfectly obedient. She sighed, she had to get out of there the smell of the bar was making her sick. "I'm sorry, we will be leaving now."

Tegan stood and so did the dogs, their tails wagging furiously. "Have a nice evening sir." she said polietly even though inwardly it made her want to puke. She hated pretending but she needed to potentially save her life and maybe the others too. She as much speed as she could without looking like she was fleeing Tegan exited the bar.

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana turned from braiding her hair as Tegan announced that she was leaving without the party. The sorceress realized that there was no sense in trying to keep the girl back. She was as strong-willed as Morgana was, but younger and less patient. None-the-less she was a capable swordsman and a very able tracker. She would likely be fine on her own.

After a few more minutes, Morgana left her tent, wearing leather chaps, an old chainmail shirt of Arthur's that she'd managed to pilfer long ago, and a light gray cloak. She gathered a few of the other druid scouts and mounted her horse. Sighing, she turned the filly toward Camelot and led the party out of the druid camp.

The woods felt dreary and cold today. There was little sun and the sky was a sullen gray mass. Sound didn't travel very far in the mists, but Morgana was sure she heard something that sounded like a galloping horse and angry shouting. Signalling to the party to wait, she dismounted from her horse, drew her sword and proceeded cautiously on foot.

Her sharp eyes caught movement between the trees. What looked like a number of big men fighting over something lying on the ground. A few guttural voices reached her hearing and she heard enough to understand what was happening.

"Bandits," she thought to herself. "What are they doing here and what, in god's name are they fighting over?"

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana crept closer to the struggling men. At their feet, she saw the body of a young man, tall, thin, and vaguely familiar. Was he a refugee from Camelot, she wondered. The young man groaned and Morgana realized that he was not dead, but he soon might be, if the bandits had their way.

Striding forward, she extended her hand outwards and felt the magic in her heart leap through her bloodstream. Her main power might be seeing the future, but that didn't mean she hadn't learned a few nasty spells at Morgause' knee.

"Swilte, gold beorþ", she cried, sending two of the bandits flying backwards across the clearing. Running forward, she pulled her blade around from behind her shoulder and chopped at the midsection of the remaining rogue. Blood gushed from the belly wound and the last man standing swayed before falling to the forest floor.

Taking a moment to calm her ragged breathing, Morgana sheathed her sword and knelt by the young man's body. She noted with concern that there was an arrow imbedded in his leg and that blood coated a stone near his head. She called for the other scouts to come and help her.

She pulled down the red neckerchief that was covering his face and her heart … stopped.

"Merlin!"

Merlin



The warlock probably would not have woken at all if it hadn't been for the arrow in his back. He had landed on his side, but gravity naturally forced the rest of his body onto the ground so that he was prone. A strangled cry whimpered from his throat, causing blood trickled out his lips He could taste the acrid metal flavor as well as feel the warmth of his life-force which altered Merlin to his injury. The arrow had grazed his lung. Dimly, the warlock hoped it wasn't completed punctured, however Merlin found he wasn't worried.

His eyes opened to tiny slits when he heard his name called. Everything was blurry and out of focus. With head swimming, wounds aching, and exhaustion taking over, Merlin's eyes rolled back into his head. Willingly, the warlock allowed unconsciousness to overtake him just as one of scouts came over to Morgana while another examined his belongings and a third tended to the horse.

"Morgana, you know him? You know the Emrys," said a middle-aged man, dressed in knee-high boots close fitting breeches, and a belted tunic (all of which was in browns and greens).

A younger man with a dark ponytail and similar clothes to the elder man came over to the group carrying a small statue and book. "Morgana, Galahad, he is marked by the dragon," said the young fighter, holding out the small dragon figure.

"This is auspicious and unusual circumstances, Balan," muttered the man named Galahad as he noticed the book in Balan's hands. He didn't mention it. There would be time to examine the tome later. Right now, they needed to deal with this wounded man.

He turned his attention to Morgana again. "So, you know this man," he repeated. "Do you know of the prophecies then? The ancient ones claimed that Emrys…Merlin… will be your destiny and your doom. You two are interconnected utterly and completely, just as lightness and darkness are. You and he have important roles to play in the founding of Albion. Should you trust him? I cannot say. Should you fear him, that is up to you. Can the destiny you share be changed? That answer I do not know."

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana felt nausea rise in the back of her throat and her chest suddenly felt heavy as she struggled for breath. This had been her last memory of Merlin. He, holding her to his chest as she slowly strangled from the poison he'd administered to her. Fear and anger sent overwhelming feelings of hatred through her. For a moment, she could only think, "Let him know what it is to die. It is not by my hand that he perishes."

She saw the book in Balan's hand and immediately recognized it for what it was. But why was Merlin carrying a spell book? Had he taken it from some poor unfortunate sorcerer caught in Uther's net?

She stood up and turned from the prone man on the ground as Galahad spoke of her destiny being entwined with that of Emrys. Emrys was to bring about her doom. Merlin was Emrys.

So the magic book was his. Merlin, Emrys had magic. She felt her throat close remembering when she'd confided in him about having magic. He'd been kind, but he certainly hadn't revealed that they were kindred. And he'd chosen to defend Arthur and Uther over and over again despite the purge. Was Emrys destined to bring about Albion out of the dust and bones of his murdered magical kin. His was the worst kind of betrayal. Saving him should be her last impulse.

"Yes, I know him," she whispered, as a tear coursed down her cheek. "He is Arthur's manservant and best friend, and he once tried to take my life … I'm not certain why he is here or if we should save him, but " she looked down again, seeing the pale pallor and Merlin's face screwed up in pain.

"I am not him and I will not make the choice he made," she whispered.

She turned to Galahad. "My powers are not in tune with healing, but we must try to stop the bleeding before he can be moved back to camp. There must be another injury that is not visible to us now, that is causing the blood spill from his mouth. It is waxing in time with his breathing. I know a few healing spells, but they are not very powerful. Can you help me remove the arrows? Do you have any prayers that can help him? If not, I'll need to ride back to camp and fetch Blackthorn. I worry though, that might take too long."

She looked at Galahad. "Can your God help us?"

Lancelot



Lancelot's suspicions were correct, they were being followed. Though he could not tell if it were Uther's men or bandits. The first arrow imbedded in the tree beside him answered his question; these were bandits hell bent on attacking them.

"No Merlin I'm not leaving y...." He never finished the sentence, he was ripped off his horse when one of the bandits pulled at his cloak. Falling awkwardly and finding himself badly winded, he was forced to lay still to catch his breath. Hearing Merlin's scream from a distance brought him back to his senses and he was up on his feet in seconds, fighting any attackers within reach.

Once all bandits were either dead or unconscious, he turned on his heel to find his friend. He sped on his horse for a good distance but found nothing, not knowing exactly which way Merlin went. He could hear muffled talking from somewhere close, but the buzz of blood in his ear prevented him from figuring exactly which way it was coming from. His lungs were crying out and from what he could hear, there were too many to take on in his current state; he was courageous, and wanted to find his friend, but what use would he be other than to get the both of them killed? Who would warn Camelot of a possible attack?

Hesitantly, not wanting to leave his friend, he raced back towards Camelot. The pace of the journey burnt in his lungs, which were still not recovered from the attack. The more the wind blew in his face, the harder he was finding it to breath.

Entering the gates and heading towards the town centre and training grounds, he really hoped Gwaine was sober and Percival was around. But would they be willing to help a banished warlock?

Stumbling from his horse, he saw the people turning to look at him. His breath was too shallow, he couldn't breath and his eyes were misting over from lack of oxygen. "Bandits!" he called out, hoping someone would be decent enough to fetch help. "Attack...in the forest....Merlin...."

Galahad



Galahad watched the woman with interest. She seemed to struggle with what to do, as if there was a great internal struggle going on within her mind. What would she do? Would Morgana heed the warnings? Would she try to change Emrys's and Morgana's destinies? To help could lead to a bountiful time. To leave him could cause destruction. He knew what his actions would be. He save him, if he could. Not only for whom he was to the world and the outcome of history, but as a God-fearing, pious man it was the only right thing to do.

"Your friend is a rare man. Not only are you looking at a very powerful man, but also a Dragonlord…a master of the dragons. He is the last of his kind," Galahad whispered. "Dragonlords are the only beings who would own such a dragon statue. It's like a King's signet ring."

In his unconscious state Merlin whimpered as his body naturally shifted. More blood coated his lips, Galahad noted with worry. Could Emrys die? He wasn't sure. There had been whispers that he was an immortal. However, the man before them looked near death.

"It is odd that he would leave the Young Pendragon. However, there must be a reason. I doubt the boy would carry such a book or figure with him normally," muttered the elder man. "Perhaps he was meant to meet you again in a place that is not Camelot. Maybe there was a reason for his heinous actions towards you. Although, he could have known much of the prophecies and feared that they would pass. Those that involve you are dark and filled with grief and bloodshed. Some stories say you are to kill the young Pendragon. However, destinies aren't always set in stone. There are ways to change the future. That dark, twisted path does not have to be yours."

He sighed. "Nor am I skilled in such magic. I fear I have no magic. My abilities are with the sword," Galahad said. "And I do not know if my God will save him or not. I do, however, know how to tend to battle wounds. It's a good thing I keep some yarrow on me at all times. It will temporarily staunch the bleeding. The plant will give us enough time to get him back to camp."

The man dug into his bag and pulled out the yarrow. Squeezing some of the leaf to release some of it healing properties, Galahad opened Merlin's mouth. Placing the leaf under his tongue, he closed it again. "We should not remove the arrows. The best thing is to breath them off and leave them in until Blackthorn can properly heal him."

Looking at Balan he said "Go back to camp. Tell Blackthorn that we are bringing an injured man to him. Tell him it is Emrys." He then looked at Merlin's lips. The blood was drying and no new dribbles was escaping his lips.

"It is working. Do you want to take him," he asked as Balan ran off for the camp. "Or I can?"

Meanwhile, nearing the druid camp, young Balan raced to Blackthorn's tent. He did not even knock or ask permission to enter. "A wounded man is coming. He has many wounds and bleeds from the mouth. Oh…oh…Galahad told me to tell you it's Emrys. Here is his book and dragon statue."

The young man held out the book and figure. "What should I do with them?" he asked. "And what does it mean that Emrys has come?"

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana raised an eyebrow when Galahad suggested that her destiny was the one that was sick and twisted.

True, she had unwittingly helped Morgause in trying to take over the citadel, but was it so wrong of her sister to want Uther's twenty year murderous rampage stopped? She had harmed no one.

In fact, she spent much of the time helping Merlin and Arthur try to preserve her father's life by hiding him from Morgause's men. It had been Merlin who had intended to commit the act of murder, on the heels of so many others. Destiny, and Galahad apparently, had a strange view of who was sick and twisted in her mind.

"We all become more rare as each day passes and Uther murders more of our kind," she said with a snarl. "I do not understand why he helps and defends my father, instead of his kindred. And if he be a Dragonlord, well, dragons are even rarer than are we." She looked down as Merlin stirred again.

"I believe that your horse will be better able to bear the weight of the two of you," she said. "If you require my aid, I will try and help you get him settled on your horse. Once we are back at camp, I will entrust him to your hands. You seem to find far more value in his life, than I do. Frankly, I do not trust him, nor do I trust that he will not run back to Arthur and tell him of our location. He is dangerous, Galahad. Watch him carefully."

Blackthorn



Blackthorn was startled out of his post dinner nap by the unannounced intrusion of the young warrior, Balan. He sniffed his disapproval and rose from his pallet slowly, muttering and stretching the kinks from his back.

After a moment taken to get his bearings, the old druid asked, "Now, what are you babbling about? Emrys?" a sound like parchment paper crinkling escaped from the old man. "Is Galahad on the cider? Emrys is a myth! The greatest sorcerer to ever live! The saviour of Albion! Bah."

He took the statue and the book from the young man. "This statue is a wooden carving of a dragon … a child's toy … hardly proof of divinity. But this," he examined the leather tome, running his hands over the binding and the pages, feeling the residue of power left by the sorcerer's touch. "This is something else again." He furrowed his brow in thought.

Decision made, Blackthorn pushed the young warrior out of his way, moving with a speed that belied his age. He shoved the magic book under his bed, speaking a few words that wove a spell of invisibility around the tome. Satisfied, the old druid moved like a whirlwind, gathering herbs and potions, pastes and clean bandages.

"Get out of my way, boy!" he squawked, shoving past Balan and moving out of the tent towards the centre of the camp. "Apparently, Emrys is paying us a visit."

Arthur Pendragon and Morgause

 ---

Prince Arthur rode in silence for hours and hours, only stopping when his horse needed to rest and then he only stopped long enough to tether it to a tree next to a small pond. Taking his blade and scabbard he secured it to his belt and then he took the bow and loaded a single arrow in to the slot. Once the arrow was loaded, Arthur took the remaining arrows and then walked off, leaving his horse behind.

He kicked around the forest for another thirty minutes until he found deer tracks which he followed. The deer was wounded; the drops of blood on the ground and on dry leaves were easy to spot. Smirking a little, Arthur followed the prints and blood through the trees and in to a clearing where just up ahead he found the dead carcass of the deer. It was already stripped of everything except the bones and the sheer amount of flies that were covering the remains told the prince that the kill was several hours old.

The snapping of a twig caused the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck to stand on end. Remaining silent, Arthur tightened his grip on the bow thinking it was another animal coming to investigate the smell.

"NOW!"

A strong voice rang out loud and clear and coming through the bushes and the trees were at least sixty men all in chain mail and all armed to the teeth. Some had swords, some had axes, some had spears and yet others had bows and clubs.

Arthur took one single look at the advancing horde of men before he turned and started running. He wasn't stupid enough to take on that many armed men on his own.

The thundering sound of footsteps behind him was loud and growing louder. If he could reach the tree line he could find some place to double back. An arrow went whizzing by his head, impaling itself in the ground just to his left. Oh that wasn't good! They were within range! If someone was a good shot then they could definitely get him!

Arthur managed to reach the trees but just as he passed the first line of trees something happened. One minute he was running and then the next minute he found himself being crushed in to the ground with the weight of what felt like several horses. The air quickly left lungs, leaving his chest writhing in pain.

Huge hands grabbed at his hair, yanking his head back as a gleaming blade made its way to his throat, then all of a sudden something exploded behind his eyes and he immediately went limp. He never knew someone had clubbed him hard in the back of his head.

Morgause had stood well back within the group of bandits so that she would not be seen. Who would have thought that the group of baffoons would have caught such prey. A Princling no less. The blonde sorceress strode forward, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and looked down at Arthur.

"I hope you didn't kill him." She told the leader. As she looked him over she could see he was still breathing. "Well young Arthur, we meet again." She smiled down at him before turning to face the group of men, hand on her sword. She didn't trust them but for now they were useful. She smiled sweetly at the leader once more. "You can leave him to me now. You will get your reward." She wasn't sure what she was going to do with the Prince yet but as long as he was in her grasp and away from Camelot, she held the power. A power over Uther that not even magic could do. Perhaps she could get Uther to surrender after all. He would do anything to protect his son. She had tried to gain Morgana's support but had lost her. She had tried to be gentle so now she would use force.

The bandits around her made her twitchy. The only ones they really trusted and followed was each other. It was dangerous even for her. She only hoped that their interest in her remained what it was, business. Even as a sorceress she couldn't fight all of them. She just hoped her coins were enough to satisfy them until she could get Arthur away from their clutches. She just hoped they didn't really see the significance of what they had done.*

The small group of bandits were none too happy about having to relinquish their prize. Since the sorceress had identified who they had captured, everyone knew what a precious commodity the precious prince of Camelot was. None of them really liked Morgause because she was a sorceress but their leader had ordered them to let her more or less 'tag along' with them.

One of the bandits opened his mouth and was about to speak when a soft groaning at his feet stopped him. Slowly Arthur opened his eyes and immediately grimaced in pain, placing a hand to the back of his head where he felt a good sized lump. Drawing his hand back he looked at his fingertips and saw blood.

As he sat up he began to realize that he was completely surrounded by a large number of men and one woman with blond hair, but something was wrong. "This may seem like an odd question but who are all of you?" Arthur paused and then muttered half to himself, "And for that matter who the hell am I?" He had the strangest look on his face; a look of total and complete confusion.

Galahad



"There are also stories of you saving the young Pendragon as well as taking him to Avalon. But, many show destruction and you working in tandem. When this is, it's hard to say. The prophets are not precise with their words of wisdom. It could happen thirty years from now or it could happen tomorrow," Galahad said in a calm voice. "I tell you this so you may change your destiny."

The man sighed. Destiny and fate was a complicated thing that could easily change. Even one word can change a future. But, oftentimes, to describe and discuss the foretelling's of what would be was not so easy.

"You will see, Morgana, how rare Emrys…Merlin is. There truly is none other like him. Never in the past has there been a man such as him nor ever will there be," the warrior said. "He is just as rare as a dragon is. I thought that every last one had been killed. Most believed it. Apparently, that was a fallacy."

He shook his head. "Nor do I know why he has done what he has done, although I haven't an idea what exactly this man has done. If he survives his wounds we can ask him," Galahad replied. "In all good time the truth will be revealed."

"Very well," Galahad said as he carefully picked the unconscious man up and carried him over to his horse. As gently as he could, the warrior placed the warlock on the beast. "I find value in all lives, Morgana, and I do not judge until I know the whole story. But, I do not doubt that he is dangerous. He is both an invaluable asset to anyone. To another group he is surely a formidable opponent …one I would not want to tackle."

He mounted behind Merlin and raced towards the camp. Soon it was in sight and he was dismounting within the heart of the place. All eyes were on him and the injured man. Seeing blackthorn, he went over to him. "The bandits got to him. It appears he's got quite serious wounds. His leg and back were punctured by arrows and he has a nasty head wound. We did not remove the arrows, though. I feared that his blood would flow. I gave him some yarrow to stop the internal bleeding.  Do you think he'll live?"

Blackthorn



Blackthorn looked at the young man that Galahad claimed was Emrys. He had to admit, he was less than impressive, especially with his jerkin covered in blood and twitchy breathing that said he was very close to crossing the veil.

"I don't know," the druid said in answer to Galahad's question. "His colour is very bad and his breathing is worse. Can you bear him to my tent? I'll need to remove the arrow heads and stitch up the wounds in his leg and back. I'm also worried about the head wound. It was very close to the temple, where the skull is thinnest." He knelt by the young man and ran a hand over his face. "Fortunately, I don't think there's any fever yet. " He turned and led the way to his tent.

Once there, he tied a tourniquet around Merlin's thigh and carefully removed the arrow head from the leg, immediately stitching the wound back together and then patching over it with a thick poultice to prevent infection. The poultice sparkled with magic in the dim interior of the tent. Nodding to himself, he went next to the head wound. Again using his needle and thread, the old Druid cleansed the opening, then drew the broken ends of the flesh back together, and patched with the poultice.

He had Galahad turn Merlin on his side so he could examine the wound in his back. "He looked up at Galahad. "This is the most dangerous," he said, fingers travelling over the open tear. "The arrow has nicked his lung, hence the bleeding when he breathed. You did well to introduce the Yarrow. It has kept the blood from entering his lungs, but the nick must be healed or any movement could cause more damage."

The old Druid placed his hand over the wound and closed his eyes. He began to rock and murmur in the ancient tongue. A breeze arose in the tent, swirling through the dried herbs and ruffling the bed skirt. The area around the wound began to glow with a golden light, and the arrow head inched its way free of the flesh. It took five long minutes, but the arrow head fell to the floor with a thud and the wound closed almost completely. Blackthorn removed his hands and sagged in exhaustion.

After a moment, he looked up at Galahad. "He will live, but it had more to do with him than me," he said tiredly. "His recuperative powers are great and magic flows within him like a river in the rainy season."

The old Druid closed his eyes, leaning against the back of a chair. "He may very well be Emrys, Galahad. And I find that thought terrifying." The old man slipped into sleep.

Galahad and Merlin

--

Galahad was most fascinated with the healing process. He had no magic to speak of, thus any time he witnessed it in action he was amazed by the out coming. "He had the mark of the Dragonlord," muttered the man. "It was this small dragon figure. I had read about it in passing, but never expected to see one. I thought all dragons had been killed."

The man raised his eyebrows. The boy healed himself? My, what power he had. Shaking his head, he left the tent and wandered the camp. Spying Morgana, Galahad went over to him. "Merlin is recovering. The arrow nicked his lung," he said. "Blackthorn said he will live, but it was more because of his own abilities than of Blackthorn's treatments. Indeed, my inclinations of Merlin being Emrys seem to be proper and that scared Blackthorn I did not get to question him though. He fell asleep after finishing with Merlin. "

Back in the tent, Merlin shifted. Moaning, he let his eyes flicker open. Unfocused, the warlock looked around. Blurry-eyed from the head injury, he spied Blackthorn. "Gaius," he croaked to the sleeping man, not knowing it wasn't his mentor. "Gaius?"

Panic filled clutched at his heart as his breathing came out in short, small gasps. Hastily, he attempted to it up. This action, he regretted. His head started to throb horribly, his leg ached, and his back as well as lungs burned. Weary and defeated, the young man laid down. "I need to go," he said, not knowing that he wasn't somewhere in Camelot. "I'll be killed! Arthur will kill me."

Tears leaked down his dirty, pale face as he breathed in and out with ragged breaths. The fight and anger that had coursed through his veins was gone. Now, he felt defeated and alone, as well as very, very sore.

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana trailed Galahad as he returned to camp with Merlin propped up before him in the saddle. The boy looked pale, almost greenish, with sunken eyes and his mouth open to assist his breathing. She glanced behind her occasionally, fearing a trap, fearing she would see Arthur and his Knights bearing down on them to massacre the camp. Had she done the right thing, bringing Merlin back with them? To her, he was a hypocrite at best and a collaborator at worst. Galahad likely would have refused to leave him. In fact, he seemed positively enamoured of the boy, even though he knew nothing about him.

In any event, it appeared clear that he thought him quite valuable … "rare"… he'd said, "Whatever," Morgana thought. If he lived, she'd see that he was evicted from the camp as soon as possible. If Arthur came, well, he'd see that the druids were no longer easy prey, no longer gentle sheep willing to go to the slaughter.

When they reached camp, she'd watched the interplay between Galahad and Blackthorn and waited until Merlin was taken to Blackthorn's tent for healing. Somehow, despite how terrible he looked, she was sure the boy would live under the old druid's hands. He too, was … rare.

She helped herself to some of the left-overs from dinner and rinsed her hands and face at the cistern. Within half an hour, Galahad was back extolling the virtues of the boy's ability to heal himself.

"I'm sure that Blackthorn helped him," she said, getting to her feet. "His healing ability is great, although the effort is costly to him. If he did not need any help, why didn't he just heal himself in the wood?"

She looked at the warrior. "There is a dragon under the castle at Camelot. My father captured it at the beginning of the purge. I understand though, that it is the last." She sighed, "It concerns me that you trust this boy despite all evidence to the contrary. Be careful Galahad. Prophecy can be a tricky business, especially when you choose one interpretation over another."

Blackthorn



Blackthorn started awake when he heard the boy moaning. He went to the boy's side and gently guided him back down onto the pallet. He carefully removed the dirt smudges from the boy's face with a warm cloth.

"It's alright, boy. You're safe now," he said, "I am Blackthorn. I am a healer here. You're in a druid camp a few leagues from Camelot. You've been seriously injured and I would not recommend that you make such impulsive moves again as you might undo all my good work. But, now that you're awake," he bustled about the tent, grinding and blending.

"This will help with the pain," he said, offering the boy some sweet smelling tea.

"Now, how is it you called for Gaius? How did you come to be injured and where is Prince Arthur?" The old druid's sharp gaze rested intently on the boy's face.

Galahad



Galahad also washed his hand in the water cistern. His hands were dirty and the blood left them feeling sticky. Wiping his fingers on his breeches, he filled a bowl with the stew from dinner and grabbing a spoon, sat next to Morgana. “Indeed, he did,” said Galahad around a mouthful of food. He chewed and swallowed before continuing to speak “He also felt Merlin’s magic at work, in seems. Blackthorn says magic flows through your comrade like a river. Merlin is quite the curious thing.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. That would be something to ask him, would it not,” Galahad inquired with a cock of the head. “If we had not stumbled upon him, the boy might have healed himself on his own. However, he might not have. I do not have all the answers.”

Galahad frowned as he wondered why Uther had kept a dragon. Why? What had been the point? It seemed very curious. It was very curious indeed and just a little bit unnerving. What sort of taunt had Uther meant by keeping the last dragon caged within the belly of the city? It seemed so cruel and unusual. “I do not trust him, although I also do not distrust him,” he corrected in a quiet voice. “I do not know him, nor do I know his story, so who am I to judge? Who am I to cast stones? I know what you have said. I know the prophecies. But, I do not know what the newcomer has to say or what all has befallen. I move with caution.”

Merlin



Merlin willingly let Blackthorn ease him back onto the bed. The warlock found that he hurt quite a lot, although the majority of the pain was from the raging headache, and he was exhausted, so much so he was shaky. As the man fussed over him, Merlin didn’t move. Instead, he stared warily at the man who definitely was not Gaius.

“I’m Merlin,” whispered the warlock. His voice was soft and raspy. He tried to listen to the man and found it to be difficult to concentrate, but Merlin picked up enough clue words to piece the picture together.

At the mention of being injured and staying still, Merlin nodded. “I think you have a good idea there. I panicked. I’m sorry,” he said, watching as the man went to make something. Seeing sparkling spots from the headache and blood loss, Merlin blinked a few times to clear his sight. “Thank you,” he said, taking the mug of tea. Struggling into a better position he downed the drink. When it was gone, he handed the cup back to Blackthorn and lay down again. “Would you mind dimming a candle or two? My head’s really hurting and the light is bothersome.”

Hearing the questions, he frowned as he forced himself to concentrate. Hearing Arthur’s name, his eyes darken and lips pressed into a thin line. “Gaius was my mentor. I had been living with him for quite a while. He is Camelot’s physician. Do you know him? You seemed surprised at hearing the name,” he began. “And why should I know where Arthur is? He’s back in Camelot I’ll wager, letting his father plan the next hanging or burning and not saying a word,” Merlin continued. His voice shook with annoyance and anger. “He is no longer my master and I am no longer his servant. When I was attacked, one of the knights, Lancelot, was escorting me from the city. Bandits attacked us and we got separated. After getting shot at, my horse’s hoof got stuck on a rock or root and sent me flying to the ground. I know I should’ve used magic to protect myself, but there was no time.” His eyes bugged as he thought about the items that had been in his possession. His breathing quickened as well. “Umm, was a book and a little wooden figure found with me? And do you know anything of my horse or companion,” Merlin suddenly asked.

Morgana Pendragon



"Uther kept the dragon as a symbol of his supremacy over magic," Morgana said, "He's bragged about that enough over the time I spent at Court".

She stood and stretched, working the tension out of her shoulders. "He killed all the others," she felt again the pain of being Uther's child. "He kills without remorse, it seems."

Morgana shook her head in frustration. "You say you do not judge Merlin because you do not know him. Would you also give Uther the benefit of the doubt? You don't know him. Do you not consider him an enemy? Perhaps if he had tried to take your life by tricking you into swallowing poison, you might have more reason not to trust him."

She looked towards the old druid's tent. "I am going to check on Blackthorn," she said quietly. "Make sure he is resting after conducting the healing."

She walked across the compound and ducked into the old druid's tent.

Blackthorn



Blackthorn's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I was told your name was Emrys, young man and that you are the most powerful sorcerer in Albion. What I see before me is a very sick boy with an enormous amount of power flowing in his veins." He waved a hand and the candles extinguished. "Is that better?"

Blackthorn laid a cold compress over the boy's forehead and eyes. "That should help with the headache. You cracked your skull on a rock. I believe that your horse has been tended to by one of our druid grooms. You can rest assured that everything that can be done will be done for her. As to your companion," he shrugged. "We found you alone, except for the bandits that Morgana dispatched in order to save you. As to your things," the old druid wandered around the tent for a moment, "Ah!" he exclaimed, seizing on the dragon carving and bringing it to the boy. "Here is your carving. Your book is in a safe place, well hidden from view, but I think I'll leave it there for the moment, if you don't mind," he smiled crookedly.

"Gaius and I studied together in Gaul for a year or so. After he returned to Camelot we continued to correspond now and again. I'm glad to hear he is still out and about. I hadn't heard a thing from him for the past few years – but then I've been a little hard to reach as well. Tell me, how is he?"

At that moment, Morgana slid into the tent, squinting in the darkness. "You should be resting," she said to Blackthorn in an accusatory tone. Turning, she noticed that the boy on the bed was awake.

"Hello, Merlin, or should I say, Emrys?" she snapped.

Galahad



Galahad shook his head. What an egomaniacal, self-indulgent act that was pompous and self-indulgent, thought Galahad. However, his face was impassive to the thoughts. He had been raised in a home that taught him not speak ill of people or to pass judgments. Only his God was allowed to judge or so he had been told so. Galahad, however, did not believe that. He'd seen much judgment in his life. But, in general, he did not like to speak ill of them.

"Yes, it does. In war, that sometimes happens. In Uther's head, he feels he's at war I suppose," whispered Galahad. "It is a sad state to live in. It is one I do not condone. "

He cocked his head. "I judge no man or woman. It is not my duty," Galahad said. "You forget, Morgana, I was a solider before joining this clan of druids. I have had to do heinous things. I have done things that I am not proud of. I can be a brutal man in the battlefield. So, who am I to judge? But, I do not consider Uther my friend, even though I do not know him. He took from me as well…"

Galahad nodded. "Very well," he whispered, finishing his meal. Standing, he washed his plate.

Merlin



Merlin was not surprised at hearing the name Emrys from the elder man. "The druids call me that, but my mother named me Merlin," whispered the warlock. He figured that a quiet voice would help his head. "And I have been told that I am very powerful. I can do spells without saying words. As a baby I was making things move. I never was taught what to do. I did not ask for such abilities."

"I am not sure I'm still a boy, sir. I've done some pretty bad things," he whispered. "I didn't want to."

When the light was extinguished, he nodded. "Yes, much," Merlin agreed. "Thank you." The warlock sighed contently as the cold compress was placed over his eyes. That helped too.

"Yes, I felt that happen. My horse threw me. I should've used magic .I could've stopped them. I panicked. Today's not been very good. I was banished from Camelot after telling Arthur the truth. I had lied too long and seen too much damage."

Merlin was relieved to hear his horse was all right. She was a sturdy beast and usually very reliable. He'd hate to see anything happen to her. "I hope he's all right," Merlin muttered. "He's a good man and a good fighter. I told him to run."

Under the cold compress, Merlin's eyes widen. "Morgana? Morgana found me," he squeaked. "I'm surprised she didn't just leave me for the wolves and bandits."

Merlin sighed. "Thank goodness. I wouldn't want to lose those things. My father made me the figure and that book has helped me many times," the warlock said, taking the figure and playing with it. "I don't need the book right now. I just wanted to make sure no one stole it."

"I see," he muttered after Blackthorn told him how he knew Gaius. "He is well. He's keeping busy. There are many sick and injured within the city. You'd be surprised how often Arthur got hurt as well as myself."

Hearing Morgana, he winced. Merlin closed his eyes and braced himself for whatever is to come. "Blackthorn, can I have a moment alone with Morgana," he asked.

After a minute, he said, "So you heard of my druid name. I'm assuming someone told you what it means." Merlin paused. What should he say next?

"Yes, Morgana, I am a warlock. I was born with magic. I didn't learn it. I've been hiding it since I came to Camelot. Gaius and Lancelot were the only ones to know. Both found out because I saved them," he continued. "I didn't want people killed for knowing my secret. I thought it would be safer to hide my abilities. I had to stay alive to keep Arthur alive. I had been told that he was supposed to unite the five kingdoms to create Albion and bring magic back. So, Morgause cursed you and used you to make everyone fall asleep, I had to do something. Poisoning you was the last thing I wanted to do. It was my last option. I am so sorry, Morgana."

He grew quiet for a few minutes. Merlin was ting, but he didn't want to fall asleep yet. "I told Arthur. I was so tired of seeing people killed. So I told Arthur the truth. I showed him even. Do you know what he did? He banished me on penalty of death," Merlin said. Hurt and anger quivered in his quiet voice. "I don't know what I expected would happen, but not that. I was just…so tired. I didn't want to see anyone else die. I wanted to see magic back in Camelot. I wanted my destiny to happen. But it didn't. It wouldn't. Albion is never going to exist. Every day, I see the kingdom crumble. I was tired of that too."

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana waited until Blackthorn left the tent, casting a worried glance both at his patient and at her as he went by.

She waited while Merlin told her what had happened, how he'd been banished from Camelot. Telling Arthur had certainly taken courage, although doing so in the throes of anger might not have been the best idea.

"You're fortunate he only banished you," she said, settling on a stool in the tent. "If Uther found out, you would have been burned." She stood again, seeming unable to sit still. "How did you expect him to react? After all this time, you tell him you have kept from him a secret like this? If I remember correctly, you were the only one he really trusted, except perhaps for Gwen. He must have been shattered by such news."

Gently, she touched the dragon carving on the table. "I never knew that Morgause had used me as a vessel for the sleeping sickness, although I began to suspect it, after a time." Her hand went unconsciously to her throat. "As much as I hated Uther and everything he stood for, I would not have willingly harmed Arthur …," she turned. "Or you."

"I've been here in the druid camp for almost two years. They rescued me from near death. I too, was apparently born with magic. Abilities I certainly did not ask for. My powers for seeing the future have increased, and I learned a few spells skills from Morgause," she wrapped her fingers around her right wrist, rubbing at the scars there. "Now I am charged with finding and aiding refugees from Uther's tyranny, magical or not. Our numbers have grown considerably."

She perched on the stool again. "I am no longer the scared girl you remember. I will defend these people with my life. You and I are entwined by destiny, it seems. Apparently you are to bring about my doom. But I have learned that one can make one's own destiny, if one is brave enough and strong enough not to let old stories turn into self-fulfilling prophecies."

She stood and walked to the bed. "I could have left you to die, Merlin and despite what everyone here thinks, I believe you would have passed through the veil without our help. But," she leaned over the prone figure on the bed. "I don't care if you're Merlin, or Emrys or Shaitan himself. If you bring Arthur here … if you have any hand in an attack on my people. I will do my best to defeat you with whatever weapons I have at my disposal. Are we clear on this point?"

Gwaine



Gwaine chuckled as the dogs did exactly what their owner told them.

"Don't worry. They're trying to show off I'm sure." He smiled at the girl who was strikingly pretty and he was sure he would have known her if she had been there before. Before he had the chance to question her further, she was up and out of the door as if her own dogs were nipping at her heels.

"Wait. What's your name?" He called after her but she was gone before he could even catch up. He made his way carefully around the tables, now heavily regretting the alcohol but by the time he reached the door, she was nowhere in sight. She had disappeared like a ghost. Gwaine wasn't so sure why he had been struck by the girl. He met pretty girls all the time but there was definitely something about this one, something that seemed a little less ordinary. He sighed heavily. It seemed he was not destined to find out.

He quickly decided he would quit drinking for the night. There wasn't any point now, although the girl had been a bright spark it had quickly faded. Now he just needed to take his anger out on something, sober himself up a little. He started to make his way down the street when he heard a cry, a cry he quickly recognised. It was enough to sober him up a little. He hurried towards the voice.

"Lancelot?" He frowned at his friend. "What's going on? What happened?"

Morgause



Morgause looked down at Arthur with shock. She wasn't quite sure how to take that. For a moment, she thought the Prince was joking and then she realised he wasn't.

"You idiot." She hissed quietly at the man who had hit Arthur around the head, her eyes narrowed. It was so tempting to set the man alight but she restrained herself as she really didn't want to get on their bad side. "Luckily for you, this could work to our advantage." She knelt down beside Arthur and smiled warmly at him. "You tripped and fell. You hit your head. Don't worry, you're among friends. Here, let me help you." She gently helped Arthur to his feet. "Do you not remember anything?" She hoped he didn't. If his memory was completely gone, she could build a false memory, even better for her fight against Uther, especially if she could bend him to her will.

She looked around her, the group of men still disturbing her. She was used to guiding armies but they had been trained warriors, these were unknowns with skills she had barely seen and she didn't like that. They didn't trust her and that made them twitchy. She would have to watch her back.

"Do none of these faces seem familiar to you?" Of course they wouldn't but she would try. "Arty, please tell me you remember something." A seed of truth to build the lie, it would make it easier for his mind to accept. She took hold of his hand. Last time she was this close they had been crossing swords... well, they were never this close. `Trust me' she willed him in silence. If he didn't do that then this whole plan would fall apart.

Arthur Pendragon



Arthur didn’t know why but he felt that he could trust this woman. She seemed to have a certain aura around her that he instantly wanted to cling to. The smile she sent his way was almost warming and it was gentle. When she said that he had tripped and had fallen, hitting his head it seemed like the truth. He was on the ground and his head was pounding like a drum.

He nodded his thanks when Morgause had helped him to stand up. Gently Arthur brushed himself off. He never realized until now just how filthy he was but for some reason he wasn’t bothered by it. He liked the dirt; liked how it smelled and felt on his skin. ‘Do you not remember anything?’ Arthur focused his attention back on Morgause after she had asked him the question. ‘Do none of these faces seem familiar to you? Arty, please tell me you remember something.’

Arty. She called him Arty. Was that his name? He mouthed the word and it seemed right; almost natural to speak. Sighing, Arthur carefully looked at the faces of those around him and no one stood out to him. He grimaced a little and rubbed his left temple. Just how hard had he fallen?

“I…I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything. You called me Arty, so I am guessing that you must know me.” Arthur replied. It was a lame comment but the only one that he could manage. He looked over at the others, watching a few talk amongst themselves. He caught a few words but the one that really stood out to him was the word ‘camp.’ These people had a camp? If so they seemed almost anxious to get to it.

A hand was roughly placed on his shoulder. Arthur followed the hand to an arm and that arm to the body of a rather burly looking man with thinning brown hair and bad teeth. “Time to meet up with the others.” That was all the man said. Arthur had no idea what he was talking about.

He had no idea that the bandits were planning on attacking the druid camp and that they were also planning on turning against Morgause.

Tegan



Tegan heard the man approach the knights and gasp something about bandits. Fear clutched her heart and in a second she was mounted on her horse and racing through the streets. She pushed her horse into a gallop as she exited the city. Her dogs following behind her. It was a good thing Tegan never traveled anywhere without her weapons or her traps. A plan formed in her mind as she raced towards her beloved home.

She reined in her horse only when she reached the camp, then she jumped down with ease and handed her horse off to a druid girl she had known since the girl's birth. "Morgana?" she asked the girl, who pointed towards Blackthorn's tent, "She found someone Tegan, he was hurt really bad." Tegan nodded but was glad at least Morgana was safe. She took her weapons and trapping gear off her horse and smiled at the girl. "Thank you. Will you take my horse back to the paddock please. I have something to do." The girl nodded and lead her horse off through the maze of tents.

Tegan had no idea where the bandits had come from but she scowered the area around the camp until she found the freshest tracks, she found a couple of sets. She chose one and followed it for a distance before she came across a grizzly sight. Blood, lots of blood and dead bandits lay on the ground. Bear went to sniff one but Tegan called him back. She played what must have happened over in her head. She found the tracks that the man who came rushing into Camelot had probably made and the tracks that belonged to the bandits.

Before Tegan even thought about following those tracks she set up a few large game traps around just in case the bandits had ideas of going after the druid camp. After she finished that she carefully followed the tracks left by the bandits. She went a long distance before she and her dogs came across their camp. It was a crude camp, made for only a night or so. But from the size, Tegan knew that they were planning something big.

Tegan turned and began to leave, to report to Morgana what she had found. When suddenly she heard a noise behind her, she turned and saw a man standing there staring at her. Tegan bolted, running as fast as her long legs could carry her. She heard the men yelling and the sound of pursuit behind her.

Tegan knew she had to warn the camp and so she ducked and dodged as arrows whizzed past her, she could hear Bear growling as he ran, she knew the bandits were gaining on her. They finally caught up to her just as she reached the place where she had set the traps. A bandit grabbed her by the arm and swung her around a long knife in his hand.

Tegan stared at the man and grinned, she was always this way when facing danger, she loved it. "What you smiling at for?" the man growled pressing the knife against her throat. "Them." Tegan said and the man looked just as Bear jumped at him biting him with his massive jaws on the arm. The man screamed in pain and dropped the knife, but pushed her she fell backwards. But Tegan wasn't going to go down with out a fight. She grabbed the man and flipped him over her, she landed squarely on his chest, she used her hunting knife and ended the man's misery. Tegan rose to her feet, Avalon and Bear standing close to her, they were war dogs after all. Avalon's white coat was splashed with blood where she had tried to help her mistress.

Tegan looked around and found herself surrounded by more bandits and laughed. She then dove forward in a blur of kicks and slashes while her dogs fought bravely as well. Suddenly a searing pain ran down Tegan's back and she screamed. One of the last bandits had slashed her with a sword, nothing to bad, but it was enough to drop her to her knees. Bear and Avalon ran to her and growled at the man, preparing to strike. "No. Go home!." she shouted and her dogs obeyed taking off into the woods. She hoped Morgana would find them, and hopefully she would understand. "Dirty..." the bandit began but Tegan didn't hear the rest because he kicked her in the temple and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Lancelot



Crowds rushed around Lancelot, none of them sure what to do. He was a knight, and they should not interact with him (according to Uther), but he was seemingly injured and needed help.

Lancelot looked around the crowd hoping to find one of his fellow knights, or even a maid or servant to call someone. Staggering forward, still trying to catch his breath, he placed a hand on the nearest person. Just as he was about to tell them to get help, he heard a familiar voice. Gwaine! His good friend Gwaine. A part of him wondered how useful the man would be due to him seeing him not hours before drunk in the tavern.

Having both reached each other, Lancelot steadied himself on his friend. "Bandits. Many of them...." He had to double over from the pain in his chest and take as deep a breath as possible before continuing. "They took Merlin...at least I think they did, unless he ran off.... I think he was injured, I heard him screaming." A few tears escaped his eyes, but he was unsure if they were from the loss of his friend or the pain.

Suddenly, he remembered what had gone on before the attack, wondering if Gwaine even knew about Merlin, and if he did...would he help a warlock? "Do you know about what Merlin can do....?"

Merlin



He shook his head, but stopped when he head started to ache ten times as worse. "I don't know if that would be considered lucky. No one is going to want me around. I was basically kicked out of my own village for what I am. It's why my mother sent me to Camelot in the first place….nowhere else to send me. I am sure other cities will be far less kind," Merlin stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I don't care if Uther finds out. I can and I will defend myself. I dared Arthur to tell him," he muttered. "I hate lying and hiding! I'm tired of it."

Merlin shrugged when asked how he thought Arthur would react. "Honestly, I don't know what I thought would happen. I didn't really care what the outcome would have been at the time. I just wanted to tell the truth. Maybe a part of me thought the truth would set things in motion. Arthur's become so passive towards his father. He doesn't speak out against unlawful hangings or burnings," he said.

"I wanted him to see me for the monster I am. I wanted him to hate me as much as I hate myself sometimes," he added. The words were a whisper, but he figured Morgana would hear them.

Merlin blinked and took a deep breath. "He didn't react. I told him I released the dragon from under Camelot. That I poisoned you and. I explained how I nearly lost my mother and Gaius just to save him. I even told him about the windstorm and how it wasn't Will," the warlock prattled "I even admitted to being a Dragonlord and holding my father has he died and that I had been in love and I had held her as she had died, too! She died by Arthur's hands. But, he didn't react. Not a word or flinch of recognition."

The tears poured now, but he didn't stop them or brush them away. "That's the worst thing of it. I know you wouldn't do anything to harm us! But, unknowingly you were and I had no way to explain it to you. I didn't want to do it. I really didn't," Merlin whispered.

He listened to Morgana speak about her magic. She told him what she did now within the camp. It seemed she was now a worker, not a princess. He didn't respond though. What could he add?

"Yes, we are. Maybe I have already been your doom," he mused. "We don't know when these prophecies were supposed to happen. Perhaps, it's over." Wearily and with a shaking breath, he sighed.

He wanted to nod in agreement, but Merlin didn't. It would just make his head hurt worse. "I know that. I would've expected you to. Not because of who you are, but because of what I did," Merlin replied. "I'm grateful. I agree, I don't think I would've survived long."

Merlin removed the cloth from his eyes and raised a little. "I have no contact with Arthur. I don't want to ever see him again. If he happens to find this camp, it will not be because of me," Merlin promised. A hard, cold look was in his pain-filled eyed.

Percival



Percival felt numb, almost as if he wasn't really here when the noose tightened around the man's neck via the undertaker. The man stood proud but there was fear in his eyes, a sadness but also a happiness. His family was gone and perhaps he believed he would see them again. That thought did nothing to comfort Percival. When the floors opened up beneath him and the body sunk, Percival jumped but made no other such movements. The crowd gasped and some others yelled for victory. What victory was this really? Poor guy didn't even have the satisfaction of having his neck broken instantly, instead he swung and jerked until finally he was still. Percival had to bite down on his teeth to stop himself from running over and cutting the ropes.

It was over, the entertainment was over and people quickly filed out and went about their daily routines as if nothing had even happened. Percival wasn't sure he could do that. Gwen came over, said something but he couldn't hear. His mind was replaying the hanging over and over hoping for a different outcome. Then it would replay the times they sat in the tavern and talked like fine men, and then there was him arresting him on suspicion of using magic. It was his fault this man was dead.

He wasn't sure how long had past, but he was still standing in the same spot when he heard yells and cries behind him. Percival blinked a few times to come out of his stupor and turned, eyes narrowed with an intensity that he usually gets when he thinks something is wrong. His muscles tensed when the sounds of metal clanged together and instantly he was off on foot running through the town, hand on the hilt of his sword. Percival reached the sea of people crowded around something and he shoved his way past, not a hard thing to do considering he was a muscled giant. There was Lancelot barely making it to Gwaine. Percival rushed over to help his long time friend, a friend that he met when Lancelot was banished from Camelot. One of the first friends he had really made, and now he was injured. "What happened?" He asked as he helped his friend stand. A look of urgency and concern plastering his usually stone like features. When Lancelot spoke of bandits and asked Gwaine if he knew what Merlin could do, Percival's brows furrowed. "What do you mean Lancelot? Who cares what Merlin can do, we have to save him if bandits have him." Percival said with a shake of his head. Here he was feeling sorry for himself when he could have been with Lancelot and protected him from getting hurt, another thing to add to the list of things he has completely done wrong.

Morgana Pendragon



Morgana smirked at him. "You never want to see Arthur again? You speak like an angry child, not the most powerful sorcerer in Albion. Grow up Merlin! You say you could have defended yourself against Uther? I found you at the mercy of three semi-competent brigands, who were taking their time arguing over your possessions while you bled to death at their feet. Uther has an entire army dedicated to destroying magic. None of us, not even the great Emrys, can stand alone."

She walked to the tent opening. "You are feeling sorry for yourself," she shrugged. "That will help no one. You have to decide what to do with what you've been given. If you hate who and what you are, surely you have the power to do something about that. If you want to make your life count for something, use the tools you've been given for the good of those like you." She turned back toward him, arms crossed over her chest. "And whether you like it or not, I have no doubt you will see Arthur again. If destiny has dictated that you are my doom, my friend, you are Arthur's saviour. The prophecies are … mixed … when it comes to my contribution, but in all of them, you and Arthur bring Albion into being."

There was a commotion outside the tent; people yelling and the sound of dogs barking and howling. Morgana looked through the flap and saw Tegan's dogs whirling and crying near the cistern. Fear and worry cascaded through her body. The girl and the dogs were never far apart. Something was wrong. She left Blackthorn's tent without a backward glance and rushed to the gathering crowd.

Kneeling by the dogs, she placed her hands on their backs, willing them to gentle. Her hand came away wet from Avalon's back and she saw the blood staining the snowy fur.

"Galahad!" she called, "Prepare a party of our best warriors, and sorcerers," she said, standing up again. "Tegan has been taken and the camp is in danger. We must establish a defensive perimeter. We ride immediately." Having given her orders, Morgana went to her horse and mounted. She rode to the centre of the camp and waited for the others to gather.

Then with the dogs leading, she lead the charge out of the druid camp.

Morgause



"Of course I know you." Morgause confirmed but didn't give any further explanation. She hoped she wouldn't need to. There was no point lying if she didn't have to. She could hear the murmurings within the group and knew they were planning on something. She wasn't paying enough attention to know what. She was more focussed on the fact that she had Arthur Pendragon in her clutches. She had him once before and it had been an interesting meeting but she had been soft. She had hoped it would be enough to tip him over the edge. The words that were spoken had not been her doing, she had only found his mother within the spirit world. Unfortunately the ghost had reinforced his beliefs against magic and not helped them but she had hoped it would have been enough to end Uther's life but that wasn't to be either. The tyrant still lived and breathed and killed. Well, now she would not make that mistake again. Somehow or other Uther would breathe his last.

Morgause's dark eyes narrowed as one of the bandits put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. Were they going to go along with this charade then? She wasn't convinced but didn't say anything. She didn't like the way some of them were looking at her. Some with evil glinting in their eyes and some with something she didn't want to think about. Either way she didn't like it. She turned to them as now she didn't know what was happening and she didn't like the lack of control.

"I presume you have a new plan then?" She asked them calmly, hiding her nerves and concerns. She was weary however and kept various spells in mind in case she needed use of them. She was a great sorceress after all as well as an accomplished swordswoman. She just wasn't sure what she would do if all of them decided to turn on her. She hoped she wouldn't have to find out.

Arthur Pendragon



Something seemed to be going on. All of a sudden the somewhat friendly atmosphere turned icy. With absolutely no warning all of the bandits drew their weapons and pointed them at Morgause.

The two men closest to Arthur stepped forward and grabbed him around the arms, dragging and pulling him back, away from Morgause. He tried to jerk his arms free but that only caused the grip on his arms to tighten considerably.

"A new plan?" One of the bandits asked Morgause, "Our plan is to turn you and the survivors of a Druid camp over to the King of Camelot, and don't even think about using your magic against us. You might be able to take out some of us but you can't kill us all." Word had reached them that some of their scouting parties had located a rather active Druid camp well within the land of Camelot.

While their original plan had been to work with Morgause, when they had learned of the existence of the camp the bandits had all changed their plans. They would get more money if they turned in a sorceress and several Druids than if they turned in Morgause by herself. Then again they would get even more if they returned the King's son as well, however the Prince's little head injury, while unintentional did present them with a unique opportunity.

Arthur didn't like this sudden turn of events at all. While he had absolutely no clue who this King was, he had a feeling that whomever he was, the king was feared. There was a commotion off in the distance near the trees but whatever was the cause of it was hidden.