This is my First ever fanfic. Updates may be irregular but I will try. This is pure drama. Enjoy.

It started off as a normal day – or as normal as it could ever get around Camelot – with the servants bustling about the castle with various burdens while the knights trained. A more than normal sight was King Arthur's manservant shovelling horse muck from the stables.

Sometimes Merlin wondered what they fed those horses. One, there was a lot of muck – more than Merlin thought possible of any horse, never mind royal ones – and two, it was smellier than he could ever have thought possible. It was a small and rather bitter comfort to think that he had smelt worse in his time at Camelot. He had, after all, been poisoned, fought a farting troll and – though he couldn't remember the details clearly (as he had been under Morgana's spell) - had once been found in a bog, coevered from head to toe in mud. Though he could not remember it, he imagined it wouldn't have smelt like a bath of roses

Having made a thorough job of cleaning the stables, he rubbed the sweat off his brow and admired his handiwork. And Arthur said he was lazy? This place was now spotless! Much unlike himself. Looking down at his person, he found that there was a thick layer of grime. Hmm, probably should take a bath… he thought to himself. He still had to polish Arthur's armour and sharpen his sword and carry out some laundry, but surely handling the prince's clothes would only make them dirtier. Besides, my back hurts, hot water should be good.

He exited the stable and started to make his way back to the castle. It was just a normal day. A very normal, uneventful day where nothing out of the ordinary could possibly…

Merlin stopped in his tracks and knitted his eyebrows. He didn't know what it was, but a peculiar feeling had just risen within his chest. He knew it was magic instantly, though he was not sure how. Furthermore, now he listened carefully, he could hear whispers… calling him… enticing him. There was no discernible language within the mutterings, but Merlin somehow got their meaning. We are here… we are here… we are coming…

With a cry of pain, Merlin clutched his head. It was gone as soon as it had come, but it had felt like a hot needle through his skull. What was that? He wondered, looking around. The street appeared as it had before, with a few merchants selling their wares and a few people hurrying about their business with a quickened pace. Weird, he thought, perhaps it was just my imagination.

"You there, boy, are you all right?"

Merlin turned to see that it was a man who had addressed him. He was of average height and had a fine, grey beard rolling down his chest. Everything about his body language said he was a noble, yet he rode no horse and his attire was of the simplest wardrobe, with scarlet robes and cowl falling over his forehead. Despite the cowl being pulled up, Merlin could still see the man's eyes. And what eyes they were. They were a deep, violet colour, harsh and watching. Through those eyes it looked as though the man could see into your very soul… Merlin absently shivered. "Yes, I'm fine… I just…"

He found himself lost for words, looking into those eyes. They gave the impression of two wells of eternity; if you fell into them, you might never return. The man gave a curious smile with a lipless mouth. "It seems you are unavble to give me a coherent answer. No matter, no matter, the weather is chilly today, dear boy; such weather can often go to peoples' heads. Oh, and how rude of me, I have not yet introduced myself. Neither have you, come to think of it. I suppose we are equally at fault. I am Grimforg of Ire. Who might you be, my dear boy?"

For a moment, Merlin was unable to reply. But eventually he found his tongue. "I'm Merlin," he said shakily.

"Merlin," said Grimforg, seeming to roll the name on his tongue. "Yes… I have heard that name… You are the king's manservant?"

That curious smile never wavered in the slightest. Merlin stared at him. "Yes," he replied. "Yeah, that's me. But how did you know…"

"Ah, excellent," said Grimforg, clapping his hands together. "Then you are just the man. I wish to have an audience with his most esteemed majesty. Could you show me to the palace?"

The whispers returned again, and this time the meaning of such mutterings was all too clear. Beware… Beware… "I think that the King is busy," said Merlin, a little too quickly.

"Oh… Well that is a shame," said Grimforg. "I was going to inform King Arthur of news concerning his half-sister, but if he is too busy…"

"Morgana?" said Merlin.

Grimforg shrugged. "I had thought he'd be interested, or at least I did until I learned he was indisposed. What are rumours from the mouth of an old man, anyway? It seems I have had a wasted journey…"

He turned to leave.

"Wait," said Merlin.

Merlin's trust in strangers had grown smaller over the years, but if this was about Morgana, it could be important. "What is it you have to say?"

Grimforg turned back to Merlin, a mouldy grin spreading across his pale features. "If I tell you, will you let me see my king?"

Merlin hesistated. "If its news worth hearing, then yes."

Grimforg laughed so loudly that it made Merlin shiver. "Very well, my young boy, that is fair. I suppose you cannot trust anyone nowadays, not even an old man. You wish to be informed? I shall oblige. The Lady Morgana is alive and plotting once more, but this time she is not the only threat. Now there are forces outside of the five kingdoms, across the waters from here. They come with men of many and weapons sharp. It is said that Morgana plans to join them. And if this should happen, it is almost certain that they will conquer the five kingdoms."

Merlin swallowed. No, he couldn't let that happen. "Who are these invaders?" he asked Grimforg.

"Ah, interested now, aren't you dear boy. Well, you must understand that you are only a serving boy and the information I carry is a risk to my life. Even if you are careful of your tongue, information can still leak. Take me to my king first, and then by his side may you learn their names."

Merlin wasn't sure. He didn't trust Grimforg – the whispers were still muttering in the background, telling him to run from this man – and yet there was something familiar about Grimforg and strangely… well… trustworthy. It was like Merlin knew this man… but that couldn't be possible…

Merlin sighed. If trouble did stir, he was a powerful enough warlock to protect Arthur. He had been doing that for years.

"All right," he said eventually. "I will take you to him."

"Very good…Well, what are you waiting for? Take me to your leader!" Grimforg laughed at his own little joke.

Arthur lay back in his throne. The court had gathered in the throne room that day, as per usual, as many men and women presented injustices. It was a relatively new scheme, set up to sort out the peoples' troubles. It had been Merlin's suggestion, come to think of it. As it turned out, for a useless idiot, Merlin wasn't entirely stupid. The court had proved to be popular. However, if there was one small complaint, there was a very monotonous part of the whole process where Arthur had to sit through pointless squabbles over land and – alarmingly – whose child was whose. Nothing exciting had happened yet, and today was an exceptionally boring court session.

"As you see, your majesty, that gold had been mine, fair and square," said an old barman. "He nicked it off me, he did. He nicked it off me and had away with it!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Bregan, who stole your money? You keep tellin me someone thieved gold from you yet you can't describe what they look like or give a name."

"They be wearing a mask, my lord," said Bregan, bobbing his head. "They be stealin' under cover of night."

Arthur leaned up in his chair. "You said only moments before that this man was a regular customer. How could you know he was a regular customer if he came in the dead of night and wore a mask?"

Bregan face fell comically. "I – I be forgettin', me lord, of course, it was a-actually…"

"Guards, please escort this man out of here," said Arthur. "And Bregan, consider yourself lucky. Under my father's reign you would have been put in the stocks for such lies."

Bregan opened his mouth, as if about to reply, but decided better of it, letting the guards drag him from the throne room.

Arthur shook his head. Bregan had not been the only one to make a false claim. A woman a few days ago had claimed that a boy had robbed her shop of bread, when she wasn't even a baker or the wife of one. It had turned out she was a blacksmith's daughter. Of course, sometimes it was difficult to discern the honest from the dishonest. He was just glad that he had Gwenivere by his side.

Gwen, like Merlin, could have her moments of wisdom. If not for her, there may have been many miscarriages of justice. The knights had as well proven themselves to have strength of mind and conviction. Surprisingly Gwaine proved to have the most aptitude for it, being a good judge of character. Unfortunately the knights were currently on patrol and Gwen was ill – nothing life threatening – just not fit enough to be present there. What was more, Merlin was too busy carrying out chores that, admittedly, Arthur had set him. He was starting to regret that now…

"My Lord!" yelled a voice.

It was Merlin.

There was an uncharacteristic expression of seriousness on the idiot's face as he looked Arthur right in the eye and said: "A man wishes an audience with you. He says he brings news of Morgana."

Arthur felt himself tense. His half-sister had been gone for almost three years, ever since she vanished during the second battle for Camelot. They had heard rumours of her. Many would say for a gold coin that she was growing in power and forming an army, but then they would happily tell the king that Morgana had learned to fly or shape-shift, which somehow Arthur doubted. Nevertheless, whatever news he could find, Arthur listened to; partly because of the threat she posed to Camelot… and partly because he cared for her still... "Send him in."

Merlin nodded, and backed out of the room. A few moments later an old man, dressed in scarlet attire, entered. Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but he pushed such edginess aside. It was merely an old man standing before him, after all, nothing more. "You have news of Morgana?" he asked, in his most formal tone.

"Yes," said the old man. "Yes, I do."

"What is your name?" Arthur asked.

The old man stepped forwards. "I have many names, my king, but you may call me Grimforg."

Arthur sat back in his throne, perplexed. He had never heard the name Grimforg before, yet he could have sworn something about that face was familliar… He shook his head. "What news is it you bring?"

"I think it is best, sire, that you and I alone, talk…" he glanced at Merlin. "Though, your manservant seems to be a fine young man. He seems… trustworthy."

Arthur wasn't sure if the same could be said for Grimforg. The idea of sending everyone, including the guards, out of the room made him feel uneasy, but he supposed the guards would be just outside the door, and would sense a commotion if such a thing were to arise. "Very well. Court dismissed," he said.

Once the throne room had been fully drained of the court, Grimforg turned his full attention to the king. Usually Arthur appreciated people who listened to him and watched him with respect, but those violet eyes of Grimforg's were too unnerving to bear, let alone appreciate.

"I suppose I should get straight to the point," said Grimforg. "An old man hears whispers, my king, and I have heard many that ring false. Although, I have been able to pick the truth from ashes and I have found information that should be valuable to you and your…"

"How much?" asked Arthur.

"What?" said Grimforg.

"How much do you charge for this information?"

The old man laughed. "I seek no reward, only that my information is put to good use."

It was then that Arthur caught Merlin's eye, and within such an eye held knowing. It was the first time out of all the informants to visit the castle that one had not asked for a reward. "Well then," said Arthur, with a cough. "Tell me, good sir, where is Morgana?"

"That, I cannot say," replied Grimforg. "What I can tell you is what she is planning."

Arthur couldn't help feel disappointed that Grimforg didn't have a location, but he merely nodded. "What is she planning, then?"

Grimforg rubbed his hands together. "She, like me, has heard of the invaders from abroad. They wear masks of warriors, and float upon the waters in vast fleets. Their might may surely crush us all, with the help of the Lady herself. She intends to join them, in exchange for power. It entices, her, my Lord and she will take it gladly."

"Who are these invaders?" asked the king.

"The invaders? Why, the invaders are Saxons."

Arthur had never heard of them before - these Saxons - but from Grimforg's description they sounded fearsome. "Is that all you have to say?" he asked.

"Is that not enough?" said Grimforg. "Ah… I suppose you do not know of their might yet… but you will feel it…"

Arthur wasn't sure if he had imagined it, but Grimforg's smile momentarily dropped, and was replaced a frown. But this was soon replaced by his usual, curious smile.

"There is more, to answer your question," said the old man. "Morgana has grown more powerful, but I have heard that your kingdom has protection powerful enough to thwart her... for now... though I fear that an alliance with the Saxons would mean her invincibility. If such a thing were to happen, this protection may not prove enough…"

For some odd reason, Grimforg subtly glanced at Merlin. Arthur chose to ignore this. "How powerful is she?"

"She is now the most powerful witch ever to have lived, from what I have heard. Of course, such titles are bold, but my ears have heard of her might. She is a force to be reckoned with, my Lord."

Arthur bowed his head. "I know."

There was a pause. Grimforg was the first to break the quietude. "Well, I have travelled long and far. I am afraid I made a half-lie when I said I wanted no reward, for I do ask for chambers to sleep in this night. The Inn is full, and I have no wish to spend my night in the tavern."

"Of course, of course," said Arthur. "Well… I am sure that George can show you to your chambers. You should find him just outside."

This was true. George the servant followed Arthur around like a lost puppy, and was more than likely to be lurking the corridors outside.

Grimforg gave a low bow. "Thank you, my king. I am sure I will sleep well tonight."

Merlin was an idiot, but he was bright enough to notice that Arthur had not sent him to escort Grimforg to his chambers. The two of them waited until the doors closed behind Grimforg, before either spoke. "I don't like him," said Merlin.

"Me neither," said Arthur. "But he has given us no reason not to trust him so far."

"That is always the case," replied Merlin. "He may be trying to gain our trust. Besides, there's something odd about him. Those eyes… have you ever seen such eyes?"

"It's probably nothing," said Arthur. "You're too suspicious sometimes, Merlin."

"With good reason."

"You are such an utter wimp."

"I'm not being a wimp; I'm using my common sense."

"Sense that, with you, is incorrectly named, seeing how rare it is," retorted Arthur.

"Prat."

"Idiot."

The two looked each other in the eyes for a moment; one challenging the other to reply, but the two of them decided that their few seconds of retorts was at an end. Serious events was at work, after all.

"I hope Grimforg's lying," Arthur said eventually. "I wish he were merely a crazy old man."

"I think he is crazy," said Merlin. "But I have a feeling he's being truthful."

The two exchanged glances. And to think it had been such a normal day…

Grimforg really didn't like bootlickers, especially George. He would have understood if it were only the king who the servant worshipped, but the old man too found himself the object of George's attentive – and annoying – care. It was a relief to finally slam the door on the young man's face and be left in peace. Alas, Grimforg never did have time for peace…

Having locked the doors and shut the curtains, Grimforg took out a vial from his pocket. Within it was a colourless liquid, that could have been mistaken for water, but he knew better. He only had three bottles left, but he felt that the time was right to use the fist."

For some reason there was no washing bowl in these chambers, perhaps because he was a last minute guest, and so the room had not been fully prepared. However, there was a chamber pot underneath the bed, as he soon found out. It wasn't the most elegant of solutions, but it would do. Thus, he uncorked the little bottle and poured its liquid contents into the pot. Then, he raised his hands and started to incant: "Diegol cnyette, gewitte me yst, þa tacnian me yst þonne ieceþ sicle."

For a moment the water fell still and clear, but then the transparency was replaced by the silvery surface of a mirror. Within the water mirror appeared a face, mature yet beautiful, with white hair falling upon her shoulders in long curls. "You summoned me, Grimforg?"

"They have accepted the information I have given them, My Lady," Grimforg replied. "They do not trust me, but they will. I know they will."

"I do not doubt that," said the woman. "What I do doubt is your loyalty. How do I know you are on my side?"

"I have done everything that you have asked," replied Grimforg.

The woman did not seem convinced. "Emrys is strong. How do I know he can be corrupted? How do I know you won't fail me?"

"I am yours, My Lady," said Grimforg. "And I will let Emrys see the light of our cause."

The woman considered him. "I trust you for now, Grimforg. You must help Emrys; guide him until the time is right. And then, he will be mine. You must make him feel the power of dark magic. Let him come to us willingly."

"Yes, my Lady."

"You now only have two bottles, Grimforg. Use them wisely. Contact me only when you are in desperate need."

"Yes, My Lady."

With that, the woman in the water vanished, and the clear mirror surface of the water was replaced by the bottom of the chamber pot. Grimforg sighed, and emptied the chamber pot's contents out of the window. He supposed he ought to get a good night's rest. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day…