The dawn of a new age and an era which will never be forgotten. The time of... Albion.

I forgave him.

"There is something about you, Arthur Pendragon," I said. "Something which gives me hope for us all."

All my life, I had been surrounded by men who craved power and would kill for it, without hesitation or remorse. It was a relief to discover that perhaps the greatest warrior of them all, the new king of Camelot, placed a higher value on peace. A man not afraid to admit his mistakes and learn from them. Already, I saw the seeds of greatness in him.

I had agreed to leave by nightfall, but later he came back to invite me to spend a few days in Camelot. After the bitterness of my parting from his sister, his friendly overtures were welcome.

"Your Highness," he said, "I would be honoured if you would consent to grace us with your presence in Camelot. I wish to seal our new alliance with a treaty, and to make amends to you in any way possible."

...

The journey to Camelot took longer than expected. I had sent the bulk of my army home and kept only a small contingent of knights with me, as I planned to negotiate the new treaty personally. However, the huge number of Arthur's men to be moved meant that progress was slow. At last the castle came into view. I had seen it before, but I could never tire of its beauty. Grand and picturesque, with circular towers and vaulting spires, it was a breathtaking sight. Its design was both richly ornamental and intensely practical. It was rumoured to be impenetrable, and no mortal army had ever succeeded in conquering the citadel.

As we entered the lower town, cheering crowds thronged the streets. The relief and joy at the avoidance of war was palpable, as was the genuine affection and respect of the people for Arthur, without a trace of the fear that his father had inspired. He took time to stop and talk to them, accepting their congratulations and well wishes. My impression of him was growing ever more favourable and was enhanced even further when we arrived within the castle and I met the young woman he had designated to serve me.

Her name was Guinevere, and I took an instant liking to her. She was neither subservient nor presumptious, but carried herself with an air of quiet confidence and common sense. Arthur confided the situation to her in an undertone, and her assurance and familiarity with him were telling. Even more interesting to me was the way he looked at her. However hard he tried to disguise it, the signs of love were unmistakable.

Guinevere showed me to my chambers, and after a brief rest, I returned to Arthur, as I was eager to commence the negotiations as soon as possible.

He promised to call a full council meeting the following day, but we both wished our initial discussions to be in private. He took me to his solar, so that we could talk without fear of disturbance. His plans were disrupted when a knight, whom I later learned to be Sir Leon, burst into the room and announced that a body had been found close to the castle walls. Arthur apologised profusely, promised to return almost immediately and suggested that in the meantime, I might like to view his collection of family portraits, which were concealed behind a screen. Then he left.

Initially, I felt reluctant to view objects of such an intimate nature that he kept them hidden, but as time wore on, boredom and curiosity got the better of me. I noticed the portrait of Uther first. Dressed in the full regalia of kingship, he presented an imposing figure. He seemed to stare straight at the viewer, and the artist had captured his overbearing manner. By contrast, the expression of Ygraine was sweet and loving, her gentle smile infusing the portrait with light and warmth. She was a beautiful woman, but the most appealing picture in the collection was of Arthur himself as a young boy. Golden haired and blue eyed, with the face of an angel, he was the most adorable child I had ever seen.

A sharp pain assailed me, as brutal as a knife through the ribs. Familiar but deadly, the sense of loss never went away. I had yearned for motherhood but had never succeeded in carrying a child to term. As miscarriage had followed miscarriage, the sweetness of a suckling baby at my breast had forever been denied me. As I gazed longingly at the image of this beautiful child, it was a bitter reminder of what I had missed.

Aside from my own grief, this barrenness had brought further problems in its wake – the question of the succession. For some time past, it had been settled on my husband's younger brother; a courageous man and worthy heir, but he had recently been killed in battle. There were no other obvious candidates. Two distant cousins, the one weak and chinless and the other a confirmed drunkard, had immediately laid a claim to the throne upon my husband's death. I had quashed their pretensions without any difficulty, but I knew that in order to maintain stability, it was imperative to find a successor, and soon.

These gloomy reflections were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. I glanced at the door, and a man entered. He strode into the centre of the room and looked about him. Tall, dark-haired and of middle age, he carried himself with an air of arrogance. What struck me particularly were the hardened lines around his mouth and the expression of cynicism in his eyes. He had not seen me and made towards the king's desk. He rifled quickly through the pile of papers, tossed them back contemptuously and tried to open the drawers. Finding them locked, he cursed under his breath and drew out a small knife from his pocket.

I judged it time to make my presence known and cleared my throat loudly. If I had any doubt of his guilty intent, his reaction confirmed it. He jumped, and his expression of dismay was almost comical. When he realized who I was, he was momentarily deprived of speech. Eventually, he recovered himself, smiled ingratiatingly at me and approached.

"Queen Annis, what an unexpected pleasure!" he purred, as smoothly as the slippery courtier I imagined him to be.

"You have the advantage of me, Sir," I returned, lifting my brows in enquiry.

"My sincere apologies, Your Highness. I am Lord Agravaine, the king's uncle. I was searching for something urgently on his behalf."

I inclined my head graciously. "Of course, My Lord. The king will return shortly. Perhaps he has a key to aid you in your search?"

He looked so flummoxed that I could have laughed outright in his face.

"Ah, that won't be necessary, Your Highness," he managed finally. "I will inconvenience you no longer and return to continue my search later." His smile could not disguise the look of intense dislike in his eyes. As he raised my hand to his lips, my skin crawled and I shivered involuntarily. This I hastily converted into a little sigh of pleasure and fixed him with a guileless expression. His eyes widened, and I could see that he was not sure what to think. I had met his type before, many times, and I knew exactly how the game must be played. It pained me that such a malign influence was present at Arthur's court.

This was just the beginning, and I decided that he would bear watching. At dinner, he was seated to Arthur's right, and it was evident that the king thought highly of him, treating him with deference and affection. Despite the man's oily charm, I could see nothing in him to warrant such attention, and it occurred to me that Arthur had found in him a substitute father figure.

...

The man stood on the threshold and took a quick survey of the interior. The Rising Sun was frequented by the knights of Camelot and the civilian population. The dreadful weather had kept away many of the regulars on this particular evening, but the knights were not to be deterred. A small group of them occupied a table in the corner. The newcomer made towards one of the empty tables but was stopped by Sir Leon, who, recognizing him as one of Annis' contingent, and as a gesture towards the thawed relations between the two kingdoms, invited him to join them.

The newcomer seemed pleased by the courtesy and after taking a seat, called the barman over. His offer to buy the next round was gratefully accepted, and Sir Leon introduced his companions as Sir Percival, Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine. The stranger introduced himself as Sir John and said it was a pleasure to have found such convivial company. After the orders were taken, he had a quiet word in the barman's ear and placed something in his hand. Sir Gwaine raised his tankard to his lips and drained it in a single gulp, Setting it down on the table with a smack of his lips and a sigh of satisfaction, he was pleased to find that it was instantly replenished to the brim. Sir John leaned back in his seat and smiled. It was going to be a productive evening.

...

"Well?" I enquired. "What did you discover?"

"It is just as you feared, Your Highness. You were right."

"Go on," I said. "What happened?"

"Yesterday evening, Lord Agravaine chose to leave the castle, despite the inclement weather. I followed him into the forest."

"What did he do there?"

"He visited a hovel, deep inside the wood. A witch's hovel."

I looked up sharply at this, and he nodded.

"Oh yes, the Lady Morgana herself came to the door to welcome him. He went inside and they talked a good while."

"Why did you not tell me this last night?"

"I would have, Your Highness, but there's more. As I followed him back, he passed the Rising Sun tavern in the village. I chanced to look through the window and saw a group of Arthur's main knights. I thought that this would be as good an opportunity as any to loosen their tongues."

"And was it?" I asked, already certain of the answer. I had never known anyone else with John's talent of getting people to talk.

He smiled. "It was most informative. It would appear that Arthur Pendragon did not want to kill our king at all. He was talked into it by Lord Agravaine."

"Are you sure of this? How do you know?"

"One of the knights overheard the conversation, which took place around the campfire late at night. Lord Agravaine was speaking quietly, no doubt for fear of eavesdroppers, but Sir Percival, who had got up to relieve himself, tells me he has excellent hearing."

"Do you trust him?"

"Implicitly. He's as straight as a die. A more honest knight could not be found. He was able to relate all the particulars of the conversation, and they had the ring of truth. Initially he was reluctant to divulge the information, but after a few tankards his caution left him. The other knights were indignant that he hadn't told them about this before, but he replied that it wasn't his business to question the actions of the king and his uncle."

"I see," I said. "That has been most helpful. Thank you, John."

"There's something else," he said. "It's unrelated, but I'm sure you'll want to know about it. It's Sir Gwaine. He harbours a grudge against us. It would appear that he comes from our kingdom, and his father was one of our knights. He states that when his father died, his mother came to the king for help. He refused and sent her away."

My heart sank when I heard his story. I was under no illusions that my husband had been perfect, but would he really have turned away a woman in need? The wife of one of his own soldiers, who had given his life for our kingdom? This must have been in the days before we were married, or else I would have heard about it. He had come to the throne early, and I thought it quite possible, that in the arrogance of youth, knowing only the power but not the wisdom of kingship, he could have made this error. Well, if he had, it would be up to me to make reparation.

"Thank you, John," I said once again. "You have done well. I know nothing of this case but we must look into it."Feeling this was a matter of urgency, I sent him back to the kingdom to discover the veracity of the story.

...

The heavy doors clanged shut behind him. Our eyes met across the room, and he had an inkling of what was coming. The guards marched him forwards until he stood trembling before us. Adopting an air of injured bewilderment, he protested to the king.

"Sire, this is an outrage..."

Arthur raised a hand to silence him. He strode leisurely down from the dais until he was face to face with his uncle.

"Tell me, Uncle, how does my sister these days?" he asked conversationally.

"Your sister?" he spluttered.

"Yes. The Lady Morgana. You have seen her?"

" I don't know what you're talking about." His voice shook, and his denial convinced nobody. Arthur gave him no quarter.

"We have witnesses who are prepared to testify that they have seen you together. You are working for her. You're a traitor, and the penalty for treason is death. However, there is one who has a prior claim on your life. By your ill advice, you condemned her husband to a cruel and needless end. Let her decide your fate." He gestured towards the traitor with a grimace.

"Queen Annis, he's all yours."

I stretched out my hand, and he placed his sword in it, as we had agreed.

"On your knees!" I commanded the traitor. He struggled, and the guards forced him to his knees. I walked slowly behind him and pressed the blade against his neck.

"How does it feel, My Lord, waiting for your head to be severed from your body? Do you hope for mercy, or shall I afford you the same 'justice' you awarded to my husband?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. What he felt was very obvious. A telltale stench assailed my nostrils, as he lost control of his bodily functions and soiled himself. I closed my eyes and lifted the sword. I envisioned the blade slicing through his neck, blood splattering everywhere, the head flying through the air before rolling grotesquely to a halt. I knew this was a fitting punishment for him, yet I could not do it, despite the vengeance owed to my husband.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. "Stand up," I said. "I will leave you to the mercies of the hangman's noose."

He stumbled to his feet slowly, quivering, a shadow of his former self. He raised a shaking hand and pointed to his nephew. "There, Madam, is the man who killed your husband. The responsibility is his."

"You vile cur," I said in fury, striking him across the mouth. "You sought to corrupt one king and kill another and condemn thousands of men to a senseless death on the battlefield. May you rot in hell."

"Enough!" Arthur's voice was redolent of anger, pain and regret. He addressed his uncle again.

"I trusted you," he said simply. "I listened to you, against my better instincts, against my own conscience. How I wish that I had heeded Merlin's advice instead."

"Merlin? He's just a serving boy," the traitor scoffed.

"That serving boy is both loyal and wise" the king returned, keeping a close hold on his temper. "Unlike you, he has never given me advice designed to start a war and put my enemy on the throne." The betrayal was almost too much for him, and his voice trembled as he asked. "Why, Uncle, why?"

Lord Agravaine hesitated, but knowing that his case was hopeless and there was no way back for him, he declared the truth.

"I love her...and I hate you. If it wasn't for you, my beloved sister would still be alive. She's worth a hundred of you, Arthur Pendragon," he spat out, full of virulence and loathing. Taking everyone by surprise, he rushed towards the king with a feral growl, dagger in hand.

He dropped where he stood before the guards could even touch him. Everyone clustered around the fallen body, as Arthur knelt and examined him. I alone among the company whirled around and saw. Behind the throne stood Merlin, humble servant no longer, but avenging god, golden flecks still visible in his eyes. He radiated power. Lord Agravaine never stood a chance.

Arthur got to his feet, and in tones of mingled astonishment, sadness, and relief, declared "He's dead."

Tearing my eyes away from Merlin, who had now resumed his normal guise, I said shakily "Perhaps his heart gave out. He was a coward, after all. At least it saves you the trouble of a public execution. Not to mention the disgrace to the family name."

"Indeed." He motioned to the guards. "Get him out of here. I cannot bear to look at him."

...

There was one further matter to be attended to, and after having made the necessary enquiries, I had decided what needed to be done. Sir Gwaine entered, obviously having no idea why he had been summoned. He was disconcerted to find me alone.

"Where's the king?" he enquired, his brows lifting in surprise.

"The king is not here," I replied. "It is I that wishes to see you."

There was an awkward silence while various possibilities raced through his mind. His suspicion was clear, but he managed to arrange his features into a semblance of civility. "You have business with me, Your Highness?" he asked finally.

"Indeed I do, Sir Gwaine... It is business which I hope will be to your liking." I paused to give us both time to collect our thoughts, and then continued. "I have recently discovered that your father was a knight of Caerleon and that a great wrong was done to your family when he died. I wish to make reparation to you."

Every thought and emotion showed on his face, making him easy to read. He was shocked at my proposal and suspected an ulterior motive. "Thank you, Your Highness, but I don't need anything," was his instant response.

"It is not a question of whether you need anything but of what is the right thing to do," I said. "I will grant you an earldom and a small but fertile parcel of land close to the border with Camelot."

This time, he recoiled in horror. "No, Your Highness, I couldn't possibly accept. I am a man who stands on his own two feet and makes his own way in the world. I don't believe in titles, anyway. Thank you for your offer. I am honoured by it," he added as an afterthought.

"Not noticeably," I muttered under my breath. In a louder tone, I appealed to him again.

"Do not be so quick to dismiss this offer, Sir Gwaine. You should consider that your future wife and children may not view this proposal in the same light and would be glad of your accepting it," I suggested, with just a touch of asperity.

He looked momentarily stunned but recovered his insouciant manner soon enough.

"Ah, I doubt I'm the marrying kind," he returned with a wry smile.

"That would be a waste," I told him bluntly. "I am sure you will make some lucky girl a fine husband one day."

I thought the best way of persuading him was to be open and honest and to speak from the heart.

"I have known both the joys of a happy marriage and the agony of being unable to bear children. Do not voluntarily deny yourself a loving family life, I beg of you. I think it will suit you very well."

He was beginning to waver, and I felt I was close to gaining his assent.

"I know it is too late to repair the original damage that was done to you and your mother, and for that, I am deeply sorry," I said. "Your father gave his life for our kingdom, and his family should have been rewarded, not spurned. Please allow me at least to make amends by restoring to your descendants what is rightfully theirs."

This argument could not fail to make an impression on him, and I watched with interest as he warred within himself.

"Your Highness," he said. "I am honoured, but my allegiance is to Arthur now. I could not change that."

"I know that, Sir Gwaine, and I wouldn't want you to. But Arthur and I are allies, and shortly to become closer. You are a young man now, and you can appoint a steward to oversee the land for you. When you retire from active service, you will be glad to have a place to call your own. Even then, it so close to the border that it will be less than a day's ride to visit your friends in the citadel."

This seemed to convince him, and at last he came to a decision. He smiled sweetly at me, all trace of wariness and suspicion gone. I saw in him the epitome of knightly charm, honour, and chivalry, and I had no doubt that he would be a credit to both kingdoms.

"In memory of my mother and for the sake of my unborn children," he said as he knelt and kissed my hand. " I thank you and accept your generous offer."

When the news leaked out, he was ribbed mercilessly by the other knights. His views on nobility being well known, they took delight in bowing obsequiously and addressing him as 'My Lord' at every conceivable opportunity. Even the king winked at him, grinning, "Now you know what it feels like." Only Merlin and Guinevere abstained from teasing, both hugging him warmly and telling him he deserved this stroke of good fortune. For my own part, I was thankful that fate had granted me the opportunity to remedy this evil, and I looked upon it as another step upon the road to unity.