Hello peoples!

I know. I disappeared for quite a while. Yes, I know 'a while' is a bit of an understatement! I really don't want to explain it, just know that because I have endured and will endure the busiest, most ridiculous few months of my life mixed in with some other more personal reasons, I am finding it difficult to find the time to continue with this story. However, I managed to get this done recently, so maybe there's some hope this year?

I understand how frustrating it is to wait so long to find out how the story ends. Trust me, I do! But I know one thing that's certain, and it's that I WILL finish this story! ;-D

Anyway, I guess last chapter was more of a filler, but it still set the story up for future events, so it wasn't pointless was it?

Really hope you liked it, and I hope you will like this one even more!

Enjoy!

Guinevere adored the palace gardens.

They were filled with the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen, and since so many nobles were too busy to take a turn about the grounds, Gwen found it to her advantage to wander around the plants when she wanted some peace and quiet.

They truly were gorgeous; thin petals as pure as the moon, bold blooms rich with sunlight. Ruby roses, tangerine tulips, indigo irises, the gardens were filled with an abundance of varieties. Gwen loved to pick the lavenders, they were her favourite flowers as well as her favourite colour, and they always reminded her of her days as a servant. The days she would sneak around with Arthur, feeling giddy and breathless when he came near, smoothing down her lavender dress. They were better, innocent times.

Drifting around a corner, Gwen stopped in surprise.

Anna was sat on a wooden bench gazing above, the sky dotted with coral-tinged cotton clouds. Gwen had not seen the woman in a couple of days, not since the war meeting that was interrupted when the dragon escaped. She was dressed in a simple vine green gown, no jewellery, no embellishments. She didn't need them though, not with her attractive countenance.

"I did not expect to see anyone here," Guinevere called.

Anna didn't so much as flinch, nothing could startle the woman. She turned her head as Gwen stood before her. "Nor I, it seems not many take the time to stroll through these parts."

"They do not know what they're missing," Gwen agreed, offering her arm. Giving the slightest smile, Anna rose, linking her arm with Gwen's.

"So, how is your pregnancy-?"

"Shhh!" For the first time, Anna appeared anxious, eyes flitting to the side. "No one is meant to know, remember?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "No one is here!"

"Never assume," Anna warned her.

During the welcoming feast, both found out the other was pregnant. They had each taken a glass of wine, pausing before the alcohol touched their lips, realising their mistake; wine wasn't healthy for unborn babes.

"You know why I can't have anyone knowing about my pregnancy yet," Guinevere said. "If the kingdom found out, word would reach Morgana. Who knows what vile methods she would use to get rid of my baby, maybe even get rid of me in the process? But I don't understand why you need your pregnancy to be kept a secret."

"I just need time," Anna spoke shortly. "Just a little bit of time, then people can know, even Morgana can know!" She laughed, but the emotion was missing from her voice. "But if anyone finds out before then... the kingdom might soon begin congratulating you and your child, and then Morgana would know."

Gwen stopped walking, taking back her arm. She knew Anna acted pragmatically, but this thinly veiled threat was out of character. The Queen of Essetir was not without heart, not without reason. "What reason could you possibly have to keep your child a secret? Or is it just so Lot won't find out?"

Even Anna had to stumble, she didn't think someone like Gwen could make an accusation like that, and so subtly also. "Are you truly suggesting what I believe you are suggesting?"

"You practically threatened my unborn child," Gwen said dryly, yet a spark lit up her earthen eyes. Anna was quiet, hands twisting together.

"I say nothing, you say nothing, and we don't care for the reasons why." Anna said finally, walking down the path without a glance behind her.

Guinevere raised a palm to her hair, a sudden headache forming.

She couldn't accept the words that came out of her mouth. She actually told Anna she could have been unfaithful to her husband! They did not love each other, but Anna would not be so foolish or disloyal. Her hormones were becoming a problem, she's never felt so bold, so impulsive... so protective.

Her arms wrapped around the small bump of her stomach. She wanted this baby so much, loved them already. The timing was terrible, there was no argument against that, but it has also never felt so right.

Anna on the other hand, she did not take on the role of the happy, caring mother-to-be. In fact, she seemed terrified, in her own (empty) way.

Gwen stared blankly down the path Anna walked down. There was something wrong, something Anna wanted desperately to remain a secret. Something to cause her flawless mask to crack, and sooner or later, Gwen would find out what.

Merlin could not begin to explain the level of perplexity he felt that evening.

What should have been a simple stroll from Arthur's chambers to the castle kitchens became a long hard trek that seemed to last a hundred years.

He did not pass many, but those he did either shied away at the speed of light or sent him the most glacial stares. There was nothing unusual about this, as he mainly passed the lords, or the odd prince. He passed by King Odin at one point who he heard distinctly grumbling under his breath.

Yet it was the servants that were consuming his thoughts. Most were timid and merely sent a tiny smile whenever he waltzed by every day. That evening Merlin could not ignore the drowning heads, and the frantic glances, and the way hands clutched so desperately at their baskets that the blood was vacant from their knuckles.

He knew that everyone in Camelot would know about him at this point, and people were going to be uncomfortable around him for a while. But he worked beside the servants for years, they couldn't stay afraid of him, not for long.

You thought Arthur would be used to you by now, and look at how well that went.

That sudden thought stopped Merlin in his tracks. Enough for him to hear the hushed whispers and squeaky squeals echoing from down the next corridor.

Frowning, he made his way down the hall, which he knew led to the castle kitchens...

"...I knew that boy was trouble! Always stealing my dumplings, probably with that damned magic of his!"

"Cook, everyone steals your food!" A fearful pause, "b-because it's so delicious! Obviously!"

"The point is, this is Merlin! Why are we so afraid of him? He was the only one willing to stand up to Arthur back when he was a royal pain, he saved Morris!"

"Maybe because he can put a curse on the King whenever he likes!"

"No wonder he can insult the King without so much as a scratch - he's immune to punishment!"

"And not to mention all the trouble in Camelot for the past few years ever since Merlin arrived."

"Yeah, do you remember all the attempts on King Arthur's life? Who's to say Merlin wasn't behind all of them? Being the King's servant, it's an easy cover!"

"And do you remember all the times Merlin saved Arthur's life? Why would someone who wants to kill the King save him afterwards?"

"Like I said - easy cover. It's hard to think the worst of someone who's saved your life."

"Oh, you are such a cynic! Merlin is not an evil sorcerer!"

"Listen to yourself! There's no such thing as a good sorcerer, all of them are evil! Remember the assassination attempts, the wars, the siege, the famine! Remember what caused it?"

"Morgause caused it. Morgana caused it. Every other person with or without magic who ever had a grudge with Uther or Camelot has tried to kill us, but not Merlin."

"Merlin has been a friend to us all, and we should be grateful to him! I know he's a sorcerer, and I'll admit it - that part terrifies me. But Merlin will save us all in the end, mark my words!"

"Say what you like, but you lot are on your own with your arguments. The rest of us seem to have more sense than you if you really believe that Merlin is your friend. All sorcerers are lying, murdering bas-"

A sharp clang rang in everyone's ears.

Meredith stood outside the kitchen doors, a metal platter filled with leftovers for the pigs strewn all over the stone floor. Her eyes were wide with shock and shame, which the recipient mistook for fear.

Merlin's shoulders dropped, but his hands remained clenched in fury. Hurt roared in his eyes for the briefest moment, before the flames died down and all that was left was a lonely, chilling cold.

He smirked half-heartedly, the humour missing. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

As he turned on the spot and hurried out, he heard no more whispers, no more squeals. He didn't know if that was better or worse.

A frustrated breath escaped him like a hurricane. Goodness, if his own friends feared him (underneath the hateful tones, Merlin picked up on the recurrent emotion in the room), then what hope did he have in anyone being able to trust in magic again?

It was ridiculous to the point where he almost agreed with Morgana; some people will just never understand, will they? People like Cook, like Sarrum. People so stuck in their ways they think that the world is in black and white and magic is the work of the devil.

Well. They can take their opinions and shove them right up their-

"Oof!"

In Merlin's anger, he failed to notice his surroundings, barging straight into Princess Mithian.

"I'm so sorry!" He helped her up from the ground.

Mithian laughed it off. "Oh, don't worry about it. Although I would watch where you are going next time- Merlin?"

Her smile fell and concern shone in her dark eyes. She noticed Merlin's tense form, his cold expression, and knew it had nothing to do with their recent crash.

"I best be going," Merlin tried to offer a smile. "Lots to do, I'm afraid."

"I doubt after your little reveal at the meeting and the dragon threatening to burn the nearest inn, you have much on your plate." Mithian bit her lip thoughtfully, letting out a soft sigh. "Come with me."

Merlin's brows rose in surprise when Mithian walked in the direction of the guest quarters. "Princess..."

"Come on, Merlin."

He did not dare question her twice. Whether they were on friendly terms or not, she was a royal princess and he was a servant.

He trailed behind her as they climbed up the steps, passing door after door before finally reaching hers at the end of the first corridor. Opening the door, Merlin realised theses were the same chambers Mithian had stayed in the last time, when she was under Morgana's control.

As Merlin closed the door, the Princess of Nemeth gestured to the chair opposite her at the table, inviting him to sit. Awkwardly he did so.

"Now, will you tell me what's wrong?" She asked kindly.

After a brief but heavy silence, Merlin told her everything.

By the end, Mithian was torn between shock, indignation and pity. "Aren't they your friends? They should know better than to think you would murder them in their sleep!"

"Half are my dear friends, some I merely work alongside and the rest either hold a grudge or don't know me at all," Merlin explained. "In fact, the one thing everyone knows about me is my constant bickering with Arthur and how I still live to tell the tale - which doesn't exactly paint me in the most flattering light now I'm a known sorcerer."

"I still think it is ridiculous," Mithian said, though her tone was not as scathing as before. Her frown eased, "you know it is not your fault?"

"I know," Merlin spoke a bit too quickly. Mithian decided not to press the matter. She bit her lip.

"Merlin... with your magic, do you ever... sense things?"

"Sometimes. It's almost like the magic is speaking to me, like... like a whisper in the wind."

"Oh. So you don't actually feel anything, feel it here?" She laid a hand over her abdomen. Merlin smiled heartily

"Not every strange thing on this earth is to do with magic, Princess," Merlin reassured her. "It's only a gut instinct you feel. Why do you ask?"

Mithian marginally slumped in her seat. "It's only that I keep having this dreadful sinking feeling, as though something isn't quite right. And the last time I felt that, was just before Morgana and Odin attacked my father and I." She closed her eyes, "I think there may be a traitor inside Camelot's walls."

Merlin's gentle smile fell. "That's a very large accusation."

"I don't make this accusation lightly," Mithian argued, gingerly rubbing the scar on her wrist. "Something does not feel right, and if there is a traitor, none of us are safe."

Merlin was still unsure, "with the current situation, I don't think anyone is going to believe you based on a gut instinct."

"I'm not asking for anyone to believe me," Mithian cut to the quick, clutching her wrist even tighter. "I simply needed someone to confide in, and seeing as how you're supposed to be our magical saviour-" she smiled when Merlin scoffed, "and seeing how I consider you as... a friend, someone close... you were the best person to tell."

Merlin didn't know what to say, other than, "thank you."

Mithian faintly blushed, so faintly that it was barely noticeable. "It's fine, Merlin. So you understand, then? This feeling I have... it cannot be coincidence. Something is wrong here in Camelot, and sooner or later it will make itself known."

Gwaine entered the druid camp just as the sun kissed the horizon.

Himself alongside Sir Brennis and Sir Vidor, were sent as correspondents of sorts to the druid circles, making sure they were settled and prepared for the oncoming war.

There was only the decision to be made on who was going to which camp, and Gwaine may or may not have leapt at the chance to see to Iseldir's circle, leaving Sir Brennis with Arian's circle and Sir Vidor with Corann's.

That had nothing to do with a certain brunette of course. Nothing at all.

"Sir Gwaine?"

Gwaine winced at the voice behind him. OK, it may have everything to do with a certain brunette.

Despite his thudding heart, he wore a playful smirk as he turned on the spot to face the bow-wielding druid girl. "I thought I told you I was no perfect gentleman?"

Against her better judgement, Seren smiled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, how could I forget such a detail?" On a more serious note, she continued, "if you're here for Iseldir, I'm afraid he's on a walk with some of the elders at the moment."

"Arthur just wanted me to check on the camp, see how you're prepared and all."

"Oh, in that case you can sit down in the tent, it's mainly myself training the druids as you probably know, and I can answer any questions you have."

Well, Gwaine was not going to refuse such an offer. They made their way to Seren's tent, Gwaine already familiar with room, and much more comfortable considering the last time he was in there he had a punctured side. Seren's already large eyes widened further when Gwaine declined the drink she suggested.

They relaxed with the talk of strategy and training, topics they were both accustomed to very well. Seren was fascinated with Gwaine's explanation of the knights of Camelot and the quests he had been involved with, whilst the knight was intrigued over the fighting edge and skill a druid of all people possessed. What he couldn't wrap his head around, however-

"Why, did you learn to fight in the first place? With your magic (which I still have yet to see), I thought you wouldn't need to learn physical combat?"

With this Seren grew quiet, the skin between her eyebrows creasing. Gwaine was worried, until at last she spoke:

"I was born and raised in this druid circle," she began reluctantly. "I'm a druid through and through. My parents had me quite late in their lives, so it wasn't a surprise when my father had simply died of old age when I was but a babe. My mother however, she succumbed to a dreadful illness, one that even magic could not cure. She was particularly weakened as not long before, a village had almost sentenced her to death as a witch.

I was young, and had only just come of age. I was filled with so much anger that despite the druid's help, when I heard of Morgana first gathering popularity and followers - long before she murdered Uther - I felt that justice was finally being served. I did not realise the part Morgana truly played in Emrys' destiny, how she was destined to be his nemesis. All I knew was Emrys had done nothing, whilst Morgana was doing something. And so I left to join her.

She was kind to me, showing most of her genuine smile I suspected she had previously possessed in her time as the Lady of Camelot. I was with her for quite a while, convinced that eventually magic would be free once more under her reign, the bloodshed over. Then one day, guards threw a young man down at her feet. His father was a known persecutor of sorcerers and druids in his town, but the young man had done nothing; he was even against his father's ways. But when he refused to kill his own father to prove he was telling the truth, Morgana sent him to the gallows anyway.

I realised then what a fool I had been, to ignore Morgana's harsh treatment of anyone even so much as associated with persecutors of magic. In that instant, she was what I imagined Uther to have been like. She wasn't a hero, she was only blind. I protested so strongly, I even attacked her with my magic. But if there was one thing that was certain, it was that Morgana was a very powerful witch, certainly more powerful than the likes of me. I doubt she batted an eyelid as she put an end to my protest, and told the guards to lock me away.

I don't know if you are aware, but there are these special types of chains, ones placed with a magical enchantment so that even magic cannot break them. To have magic and be rendered utterly powerless, is the worst feeling in the world for a sorcerer. I don't know how long I was imprisoned for - long enough for my bones to scream and my mind to be on the verge of madness. Then all of a sudden, this cloaked figure came along and set me free. To this day I still don't know who it was and I probably never will. I returned to the circle and begged on my knees for forgiveness from them and Iseldir, which to my shock I was granted unconditionally. But my time in that cell has never left me. Ever since I have been training myself as well as the rest of the circle in combat in case anyone ever lost their magic like I did."

Gwaine was little more than a ghost throughout that narrative, silent as the grave. He was surprised she would so easily tell such a personal and conflicting story to a man she hardly knew in reality. Then again, looking at the haunted shadows in her eyes and the tightness of her grimace, he doubted it was easy for her.

"I can understand your reasons for leaving."

Seren's head shot up, a heavy mix of surprise and confusion in her expression. "You can?"

"Let's just say, I know what it's like to feel as though the world is against you."

"Because of Caerleon?" At her brash outburst she bashfully ducked her head as Gwaine's mouth opened in shock. "Um, the rumours have been circulating over your true background. Apparently it's quite significant."

"Quite," Gwaine echoed in dry amusement. He sighed. "My point is, your reasons for joining Morgana were honourable at least. Everyone makes mistakes and everyone is tricked at some time or another by those they considered friends. It's not your fault."

Faint murmurs of conversation outside the tent were all that could be heard. Seren saw the knight of Camelot in a new light, more than the cheeky, slightly tipsy lady's man she had become a friendly acquaintance of. Suddenly she found the underlying layers of loyalty, and kindness, and bravery, and nobility. Above all nobility. And did his dark eyes always have that blazing spark in them? She must have missed it before.

And then she realised how close they were, and she noticed how their lips were barely an inch apart. And when she caught that spark in his eyes again, she perceived what was about to happen.

And abruptly jumped up as he leaned in, putting an end to the moment.

Gwaine was perplexed. "What-?"

"I-I'm sorry," Seren stammered in a daze, "Iseldir must be back by now. I must tell him what we spoke of, he will want to prepare the circle as soon as possible."

"But wait-!"

"Thank you, I have to go now."

"Seren-"

But she had already left the tent, leaving him behind to face his muddled thoughts alone. He shook his head back and forth, wondering what exactly had happened, or what he had done wrong.

What in the world had caused her to run off like that?

"Gaius, how are you?"

Arthur entered Gaius' chambers after knocking, watching the physician bumble about with various pots and jars.

"Very well, Sire, thank you," Gaius replied courteously. "Is there a reason you're visiting this evening?"

"Yes, I wanted to know how knowledgeable you are in magic, particularly healing."

Gaius was taken aback. "Your Majesty?"

"I know," Arthur let out a breathy laugh. "But now that we have the druids on our side, and magic can be used for some good, I think it will benefit everyone if magic is allowed to heal the wounded in this war against Morgana. I need someone here the people trust, someone who has studied healing and magic, other than Merlin."

"Merlin is terrible at healing magic," Gaius dismissed, raising an eyebrow at Arthur's surprise.

"'The Great Emrys' is bad at something?"

"Arthur." For once, Gaius addressed the king by his given name, his tone a bit forward but nonetheless it hit the mark. "Just because Merlin is also Emrys, does not mean he is invincible. He's only human; he's even younger than you by a few years!" He chuckled. "Anyway, to answer your question, I know some magic. I cannot claim to be any good, but I do know the theory. The druids would be better at it than I, especially the young woman by Iseldir's side."

"The one Gwaine is infatuated with?" Arthur smirked, but sobered quickly. "Alright. I'll consider it."

"Just remember, not everything relies on magic. The amount of times I had to knock that lesson into the boy's head is beyond counting. I still have to do it from time to time!" Gaius and Arthur shared a laugh, before Arthur made his way to the door. He was stopped by Gaius' call of "And Sire?"

As he turned, Gaius' voice became laden with burden. "Remember the time you visited me in my weak state. Remember what I said: there are those who wish to see you succeed, even when they should be your enemies. One day you will understand, just how much they've done for you." Gaius smiled feebly. "I wasn't just speaking of anyone, you know."

Arthur stilled, taking in Gaius' not so subtle speech. With nothing more than a cautious nod, Arthur returned to the door and twisted the handle.

Within seconds of swinging the door open, a blurred figure raced in front of Arthur, collapsing into him as their hands wrapped around his neck. All Arthur could hear in his startled state were muffled, wracking sobs emerging from an auburn head.

Frozen, he craned his neck to ask wordlessly for Gaius' help, yet Gaius could only shrug in bewilderment.

Then the figure whisked themselves away, dainty hands clasped over their small mouth.

"I'm s-so s-sorry, King Arthur!" Princess Helewise, the daughter of King Reynard of Rheged, mewled as her grey eyes continued to flood with tears. "I didn't mean to- I need the court physician, right a-away!"

"My Lady, what's the matter?" Arthur inquired as Gaius immediately fetched his bag. Just then, another figure came to stand behind Helewise, her shoulders' slumped as they frowned with pity at the grief stricken woman.

"There," Princess Elena whispered, as her friend spun to seek comfort from her. Elena's hand kept patting her back, her blue eyes staring apologetically at Arthur. "I'm sorry, Arthur, but it really is quite serious." And finally, Arthur could see the fear and anxiety in both of them. As Gaius arrived at the door, Arthur nodded down the corridor, telling Elena to lead the way.

"I was with Helewise all day," Elena explained as they marched in the direction of the Rheged quarters. "It was sunny and warm and we were chatting about nothing in particular. Her brothers Urien and Owain have been training in the courtyard all afternoon. Then this evening before dinner, Helewise wanted to quickly visit her father-" at this Helewise let out a strangled wail, and Arthur's stomach dropped. Suddenly their pace increased ten fold.

They made it to Reynard's chambers, and when Elena gingerly pushed the door, Helewise collapsed on the ground at the sight. Arthur was sure her cry of anguish could be heard throughout the castle. When Arthur eventually peeked through, his mouth dropped open.

There, slumbering on his bed and still in his day wear was King Reynard. He almost seemed at peace in his sleep.

It was only the dagger stuck in his chest that made that sleep eternal.

Arthur stood stock still in horror as he noted the blood still fresh dripping down his tunic, the few grey strands on his head matted with half dried sweat. He could only marvel at how Gaius remained calm as he examined the body, the pursing of his lips solidifying that the king had in fact, passed on.

Gaius saw a small piece of parchment pinned under the dagger, flapping lightly in the breeze entering from the window. With a sharp tug the parchment ripped its way free, and wiping away the spot of blood in the corner, he handed it to Arthur.

With apprehensive fingers he took hold of the note, and his entire stance steeled at the message within:

There's one tyrant dealt with. You're next.

- Morgan Le Fay