They reached Camelot just as the sun was peaking over the castle walls. The early morning sunlight made the white stone glow red. Usually, Mordred was fascinated by this. Not today though. Today he was worried about the ill girl with him.

She was direly thin and very short. Her body was quivering from cold or fear, he wasn't sure. And she wheezed and coughed constantly, even in a semi-asleep state. Mordred didn't like that at all. Had she been ill for long? He hoped that the physicians at Camelot could help her, especially if she indeed was Emrys's child.

Coming through the gates, he slowed. There, in front of him was Morgana. She was striding down the steps. "My lady, I-I found someone in the woods, a girl. She seems ill," he said, stopping in front of the Queen.

Morgana, who was dressed in a lovely silver dress studded with jewels that made it shine, studied the girl in Mordred's arms. She was short, frail, and obviously very sick.

The Queen's first reaction was to send the sickly girl away, but she forced herself not to give the order. The people of Camelot had threatened more than once to rise up in an uproar because of the way she was running things. Normally she wouldn't care, but she had to start winning the respect of the people.

"Very well, take her to the Court Physician," Morgana said in an icy tone. The Court Physician was no longer Gaius, but another sorcerer who had a background in medicine and who was Morgana's most trusted advisor. If there was something that she needed to know about the girl then she was sure she could count on her friend to tell her.

Mordred nodded. Right before he went to the doctor, he watched as Leon turned and left. That was only slightly odd – he was probably going to tend to the horses after all. Shaking it off, he carried her to the physician's quarters and laid her on the bed. He didn't exactly like this new physician. He didn't trust him, but Mordred did not let his apprehensions known.

"What do you know about her?" asked the man in a gruff voice as he gathered supplies, hopefully to ease her breathing.

"Nothing. I found her in the woods alone," he explained.

"I see. What does the Queen want me to do with her?" the other man asked.

Mordred shrugged. "I don't know. Heal her up, I suppose. She did have me bring her here," he replied. "Is that all?" Getting a nod, Mordred scurried from the room and to the throne room. The physician scared him; the gruff nature, the angry looking eyes, the fact that he seemed to want to bite the lad's head off at any moment…it was why he kept away from the man as much as he possibly could.

Mordred entered the throne and strode up to the golden throne Morgana was seated on. He bowed to the Queen. "My lady, you shall be feasting tonight," he said. Pride was in his eyes. "We downed a mighty buck while hunting. Oh and things are quite peaceful in the surrounding wilderness. We saw naught a soul, except the girl. That surely is a good thing, what with those meetings Leon came upon."

Morgana smiled. She liked Mordred; she trusted him. "That is wonderful news, Mordred." She said. She had heard reports of a possible army mounting to supplant her, but she was glad to find those rumors false.

"I thought it would please you, Morgana," Mordred replied as he returned the smile with a small one of his own.

As he stood there, the young knight's mind was still on Leon and him slipping off. Was he going to Lancelot and Arthur? Was it time to act? Mordred had not seen Tristan, but that didn't mean much. The man never failed to arrive right when they needed him.

"I believe it is wise you let the girl stay. I doubt she would have lasted much longer out there on her own. What do you want me to do with her?" he asked in a quiet voice. His expression was impassive to his thoughts. "What are you going to do with her?"

####

Leon rode away from Camelot as fast as his brown stallion would carry him. He had slipped away easily. Perhaps Mordred had noticed - perhaps not. It did not really matter whether he did or not, because the young knight would not tell Morgana of his plans. Mordred would know who he was going to see and why he would be going to visit him. The time for action was nigh. With the newcomer, there was a chance of succeeding. Leon hoped that the girl would distract Morgana enough to get Arthur, Elyan, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and Tristan into the castle without too much disturbance or questioning. It was tricky deal and if they were not careful, the group would fail. Leon hoped that the knights within Camelot were also ready to overthrow the Queen because it was now or never. The curly haired knight just hoped Tristan would be arriving in Ealdor in the next day or two - that was all the bigger their window of opportunity was Leon feared.

The Knight of Camelot reached Lancelot's house early in the morning. The sun, ready to encompass the cottages and farm lands, was just peaking its pale face over the hilly countryside. Siding off of his brown stallion, he lightly tied the reins of the beast to the fence pole before striding to the door. Raising a gloved hand, he knocked.

Soon, the face of a sleepy looking Lancelot peaked out from a crack between the door and the door frame. He frowned blearily at Leon as he registered who was at him home. As realization dawned in his eyes, his brows shot upwards. Exiting the cottage, he came out onto the small, wooden porch. "Good marrow, Leon. I am surprised to see you here so early this morning," greeted the ex-knight and now miller. "What brings you here?"

"It is time to attack, Lancelot," said the curly haired knight.

This statement made the other knight frown. "Now, why is that? Tristan is not here and I believe that Gwaine has just arrived from another romp through the wilderness," asked Lancelot with a cock of his head. "We have no supplies - no capes and no swords. We have nothing. How could we even think of attacking Camelot now?"

"Well, we better get it and get it fast! Tristan's supposed to arrive here any day, anyway," Leon replied. He was feeling a little desperate.

"How could we even think of attacking Camelot now?" Lancelot asked a second time. Leon had not answered that question.

"Morgana is indisposed right now. She is distracted at the moment and I do not think that will last for long. Camelot has a guest. She is quite the mystery. We do not even know her name. All we know is she is ill. Mordred found her on the way back to the castle," Leon explained.

"Let's alert Percival and Elyan. Then, we will go and see Arthur. I need to go and check on Merlin anyway," said Lancelot as he went in and grabbed a jacket. It was a bit cool that morning.

When Lancelot came back out of the house, Leon asked, "Merlin? Merlin's alive? He has been gone for twenty years now, has he not?"

Lancelot nodded as sadness flickered in his eyes. "He is alive, but barely. I found him in a cave. A woman had kept him there under some sort of curse," replied the miller as they walked towards the black smith's shop where Elyan and Percival worked.

"How is he," Leon whispered.

"Not well," was the ex-knights weary reply.

A furious looking Gwaine stepped from the pub near the black smiths shop. His eyes were alight with fire and his jaw was clenched tightly. Lancelot and Leon had never seen the knight look quite so ferocious. "I will kill 'em," growled the vagabond.

"We do not even know who took Merlin and held him captive for all that time," Lancelot pointed out.

"Surely it was Morgana! Who else hates Merlin and Arthur as much as she?" snapped Gwaine, who was slightly drunk.

"We do not know for certain that she took him. Besides, I saw the woman who took him. At least, I saw the back of her head. She was blond haired and not a brunette," Lancelot said. "Now, Gwaine, this is not a time to seek revenge for Merlin's captivity. We have duties to attend to. It is time to attack Camelot and return the true heir to the throne - Arthur."

Gwaine's jaw was still clenched tightly, but the angry light in his eyes had dimmed a little. There was now determination flickering in his dark eyes. "All right," breathed the man as he flipped a bit of hair from his eyes.

"Gwaine, you go to Arthur's place. We will all meet you there. You know where it is, right," asked Leon.

"Of course I know where the princess's place is. I have seen him come out of it once or twice in the last twenty years," Gwaine said, which made the other two ex-knights roll their eyes and sigh. Turning on his heel, he marched determinedly towards the outer skirts of the village.

Lancelot shook his head and chuckled. Then, raising a fist, he knocked on the door. "Elyan! Percival! It is time," shouted the man.

Those words were all that was needed to make the two men sit their tools down. They had not started forging, thankfully. They had been sweeping the floors and putting tools away and stoking the fire and getting things ready for their work.

Together, the four men strode to Arthur's house. Gwaine was already there, pacing the porch and anxious to get this military campaign ready. "We can't go in yet," the rouge man said when Lancelot was about to knock on Arthur's door (just as he had at the blacksmith's shop).

"Why," Lancelot asked with a frown.

"Oh, you will see. You need not worry," said Gwaine as he stopped pacing and stared out at the sleepy village. "Just give it a minute, all right?"

Lancelot, Leon, Elyan and Percival were confused. What was this guy playing at? What was Gwaine waiting for?

Sure enough, the four men saw what Gwaine was waiting for. It was a barrel topped wagon with a familiar scraggy-faced blonde man. It was Tristan. Coming to a stop in front of the cottage and the group, he hopped down. "I am pleased to see you are all here," he said as a greeting.

"I take it you got the supplies," Leon asked.

The man nodded. "Indeed, I have. There are a hundred capes emblazoned with Camelot's dragon and 100 swords," said Tristan as he grabbed a sword and cloak from the back of his wagon. "Why are there only five of you? Where are the others?"

"They will come. I just have to give the signal," replied Lancelot with a nod of his head. This seemed to relieve Tristan because he sighed blissfully. "I thought it would be best to talk to Arthur before we called for all of the men. How did you know it was time, Tristan?"

"It was just a feeling I had," replied the man with a smirk. The response was a bit cryptic, Tristan knew, but it was a good of a response as any. "Why did you think it was time?"

"Morgana has company," Leon told Tristan. "I am hoping that she will keep Morgana occupied. The girl's a mystery and Morgana was always one for puzzles. She's going to expend her energy figuring out who this young one is and why she was there alone. I hope the girl's presence will be enough to occupy Morgana's mind. If the Queen is distracted we will have a better chance at overthrowing her regime."

"I see," was the response from the scraggy-faced smuggler. "Well, now that we are here, what are we waiting for? Let's get this party started!"

"You have been around Gwaine to much, Tristan," said the ex-knight with his own smirk. Going to the door, he raised his gloved hand and knocked lightly, but firmly on the wooden entrance. "Arthur! Arthur, are you up? I need to talk to you."

There was a scuffle of sound from inside, but it was not footsteps towards the door. It sounded as if the inhabitants within the home were searching for something or someone. "We will find her," Lancelot heard through a crack in the door. It sounded like Merlin and his voice was tinged with worry. "She could not have gone far, could she?"

Lancelot's face contorted as he felt his own worry. "We have a problem," hissed the man.

"What is it," Elyan asked.

Lancelot shook his head. "It is not for me to say," replied the miller as he knocked on the door. This time, the knock was louder and firmer.

"Arthur, open up, please! It is Lancelot. We need to talk to you," Lancelot shouted at the entrance. The ex-knight backed up and waited for a response. He placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels as he looked at the group that was congregated on Arthur's porch. To himself, he whispered, 'Please open up. Please. We don't have all day.'

There were a few moments of silence before the door to the hut was opened and the former Prince of Camelot poked his head out. He looked tired; eyes red, puffy and bloodshot from lack of sleep. Stubble was growing on his face, a clear indication that he hadn't shaved in at least a day or two which normally wasn't like him at all.

"Lancelot," Arthur began, finally opening the door wider so he could step out on to the porch, "Now is really not the best time. Ceri is missing. We can't find her."

The young lady who had run off in the night had never returned. It was unlike her. Even when she was mad, she knew better than to not come home. Home was where she could receive her breathing treatments, which she needed on a daily basis. What annoyed Arthur about the entire situation was Merlin. He didn't seem all that worried about his own daughter. He had always been positive that she would return and when she didn't the warlock had still stayed positive. He took in all of the people standing on his porch with a glance; all of them he recognized - Lancelot, Elyan, Leon, Percival and Tristan.

"Arthur," Merlin's voice sounded from inside, "We'll find Ceri, but right now it looks like there is something more important that needs to be discussed."

The former Prince of Camelot looked at Merlin with a somewhat icy glare. What could be more important than the welfare of his daughter?! Merlin for his part seemed to ignore the look as he beckoned those out on the porch to come inside the hut so they all could talk more openly. The warlock was still weak, that was plain to see, but he was trying to be more active even if it looked like a strong wind could blow him over.

"Merlin is right," Lancelot said as he watched Gwaine bear hug Merlin, who had been helped into the kitchen just twenty minutes prior. "We have a lot to discuss. Tristan, come forward."

Tristan stepped forward and handed the red and gold cloak to Arthur. "For twenty years we have been under control of Morgana as Queen. Twenty years is far too long to suffer high taxes and tithes. Twenty years is too long to live in fear. Men and women are worked as slaves. Magical people are beheaded and burned for reasons that are unclear even to the knights of Camelot. It is too much to bear. Things are grim and we want a change."

"Even the knights within the castle are prepared to fight against Morgana. In fact, we have slowly been organizing. We are ready to strike," Leon added. "Tristan and Gwaine have been recruiting people from Ealdor and outside villages. They have found about 90, not counting the men in here. Tristan has been gathering cloaks and swords of Camelot so we can blend in. While they have been doing that, I have prepared over 100 knights within the castle. It is the only reason I agreed to stay in Camelot."

Leon grew quiet for a moment. "And we are ready, but we need you. We want you to lead us," he explained. "There is a reason I want to act now. Morgana has a guest who is quite the puzzle. Mordred found her last night. We know nothing of her except she has breathing trouble. Morgana is not going to rest until she figured out who this child is. This girl is a good distraction."

Merlin tried to get up. He wanted to greet the men properly. A worried Gwaine strode forward and tried to keep him sitting. Irritated, Merlin attempted to push Gwaine away, but had no strength. Thankfully, he ex-knight understood and backed off. "What did she look like," he asked.

"Curly, dark hair...pale face...small of stature. Why," asked Leon.

"That sounds like Ceri," whispered Merlin as he looked over at Arthur. "I told you we had more important things. We have to fight this fight. Then, we can get your daughter back and I'm going to help you."

Lancelot's eyes widen as he shook his head. "You can't, Merlin. You've no strength. Need I remind you where you've been for the last twenty years?" he asked.

The warlock shook his head. "I can do it. I will," Merlin replied. He gave the group a look that said, 'don't even try to argue. I know what I'm doing.'