Gwen was still getting used to how people smiled at her in the market. She'd always had a good rapport with the citizens here, having known them one way or another for most of her life - clients of her father or people they traded with - but it was different now though. Their smiles weren't just easy and friendly, they beamed at her, children shyly hiding behind their mother's skirts, pointing at her in awe whilst their mothers told them it was rude to stare.

She was their queen and they weren't used to such people walking amongst them.

Just as Gwen - and she was still 'Gwen', finding 'Guinevere' too formal - wasn't used to people bowing to her. When she'd first gone to the market after her coronation, refusing to give up the habit, she'd felt mortified at the stir she'd caused. Everyone had stopped what they were doing, muttering hurriedly amongst themselves, bowing and curtesying. Camelot hadn't had a queen in a long time.

"Don't, please," Gwen had insisted but an air of uncertainty had hung in the air and no one had moved, forcing her to nudge her accompanying knights into action. "For goodness sake, make them stop…"

After that, she almost hadn't gone back, stomach twisting at the thought of causing such a show again. But she'd sworn to herself that she'd work for them, that she'd know what troubled them and be their voice in court. She couldn't do that if she kept herself locked away in the castle.

Now, many months since her coronation, she'd finally got people to stop bowing in the street. A polite incline of the head was the unspoken compromise they'd reached, and it'd somehow made their old smiles warmer than they'd ever been.

The silk merchant came only once a month and Gwen insisted that she wouldn't miss his visit, much to the chagrin of her brother. Elyan had, unsurprisingly, been assigned as her personal guard for such outings, but he wasn't always entirely gracious about it. Like that morning, when she'd told him she wished to go out and he'd pulled a face, muttering something about interrupting his training practice. She'd teased him - as his sister that was her prerogative - saying that if there were more important things to do than guarding his queen, she could certainly find someone else. His answer had been a very dry look.

Not that his being here meant that he felt honour bound to hide his disinterest.

"Now this is beautiful," she said, picking up a ream of the most delicate material and unwrapping it a little, examining it closer.

Elyan, whose attention had been drawn by the girl grinning at him from the fruit stall, looked around.

"It's…purple," he settled upon when it was clear from Gwen's face that she expected him to express an opinion.

She rolled her eyes.

"You could at least feign interest," she said, draping some over her arm to see how it hung.

"It's purple," he said again with a shrug. "And very thin. It's not going to keep you warm."

"I wasn't planning on wearing it out in the middle of winter."

Elyan finally smiled at her, indulgent and soothing.

"I'm sure it'll make a lovely ball gown and Arthur will grin like a fool to have you on his arm."

Gwen looked mildly affronted. "I do want to be more than his decoration, you know."

Opening his mouth as if to say something, Elyan quickly shut it again and glanced sky-wards, saying no more. Clearly concluding that he couldn't win.

Gwen sighed as she investigated the rest of the merchandise, seeing if there was a material she liked more and giving up on the idea of asking for his opinion.

It was very hard not to think of the times she'd done this with Morgana, of how they'd laughed in this market, testing different colours against each other. Morgana always insisting on buying Gwen something. It hurt to remember such times. It hurt even more to remember that the last time they'd met, Morgana had pulled back her sword to strike a killing blow.

She'd said that she was sorry.

It'd been an odd thing to say before killing someone you hated, and yet Morgana had said she was sorry and that she couldn't let that happen. Gwen wished she could understand what she'd meant. She wished she could understand what had happened to Morgana at all and if any of them could have prevented it.

"How does this colour suit me?" she asked Elyan, picking up a dark green and laying it over her arm. She didn't expect he'd be any more capable of answering than he had been before, but she'd rather talk awkwardly than think.

The look on Elyan's face was a little pained as he shrugged.

"You're really not very helpful," she scolded.

"I'm not very good at this. I think you'd look good in anything."

"Don't try to be charming, Elyan, it doesn't suit you."

He smiled.

"Look, wouldn't it be better if you brought a maid or something next time? Then I can concentrate on guarding."

Gwen had considered that. She had a sweet young maid but the girl was very quiet, nervous no matter how kindly Gwen spoke to her. She'd probably look like a cornered rabbit if Gwen ever tried to ask her opinion on something.

"You mean if I have someone else to talk to, you can concentrate on eyeing the market girls," she countered her brother, a fond reproach.

Elyan didn't have a chance to defend himself before nearby shouts drew their attention.

Gwen hurried towards them first, Elyan calling a protest - saying she should leave it to him to check out - before surrendering and following her lead.

The small square was bustling with people and the majority were so busily focused on what was happening that they didn't notice Gwen's arrival. The man in the centre of it all certainly didn't, his arms held behind him by two burly workers, his head forced down as he was made to walk. The sound of his pleas could be heard over the jeering crowd and Gwen could see the terror on his face as he was manhandled, but she couldn't make out his actual words. As someone threw a rotten cabbage though, striking the frightened man in the face, she decided she'd seen enough.

"What's happening here?" she demanded, surprised at how strong and forceful she managed to make her voice.

Many around her were instantly silent and Elyan's bellow got through to the rest.

"Make way for your Queen!"

Gwen marched, head held high through the parted crowd - even if her heart was beating fast and unsteady.

"Let him go," she commanded as she reached the men and their 'prisoner'. Elyan had a hand on the hilt of his sword, but the men obeyed without need for further persuasion.

The captured man fell to his knees, shaking.

"What is this?" she briskly asked again, looking confused and somewhat disgusted by what she'd witnessed; this man being hounded by a mob. It wasn't the Camelot she liked to see. It was the Camelot she thought had died with Uther.

"Begging your pardon, my lady," said one of the workers, eyes downcast, respectful. "This man was caught using sorcery."

"I wasn't, my lady!" the accused instantly protested in a shaking voice, as though pleading for his life. "I swear!"

"He was using it to make his goods better," the first man denounced more sharply. "So he could sell them for a higher price."

"That's not true," the accused pleaded again. "I have talent and I've worked at it, day and night. That's all."

Gwen remained calm, not wanting to incense a volatile situation further.

"What is your business?" she asked the man kindly, trying to soothe his shattered nerves and let him see that he'd nothing to fear.

He didn't dare look at her.

"Furniture, my lady. I make furniture."

She nodded. Certainly a skilled profession, but still one that could be learnt and improved upon with practice. She crouched in front of the fallen man, gently lifting his hands to inspect them. They were still shaking. More importantly, they were rough and marked with splinters. The scars of hard work.

"Do you have any proof of his guilt or just your suspicions?" she demanded as she rose, looking fiercely at the two larger men.

They said nothing.

"So you were just going to, what? Beat him?"

"No, my lady!" one of the men protested, seemingly affronted. "We were going to throw him out."

"Throw him out?"

"Of the city. We don't want his kind living amongst us."

Gwen stiffened. She knew what happened to people who were ejected from the safety of the only home they knew. She also knew what it was like to be falsely accused of witchcraft and to have no right of defence. She glanced at Elyan and then nodded towards the unfortunate man. Her brother understood immediately, moving across to help him to his feet as Gwen turned to address the whole crowd.

"This man here has been found guilty of nothing and the suspicions placed upon him are entirely unfounded. He is free to go back to his home and business and is not to be harmed. If he is, those responsible will answer to the King."

She and Elyan led the man back home, whilst he constantly praised and thanked her for her kindness. He was clearly vastly disturbed by what'd happened and so was Gwen, her heart still pounding. She'd never done that before, stood up to a crowd in such a way.

And yet it wasn't that which plagued her mind; it was the deep distrust still rife in this kingdom.

Merlin turned back round sharply, eyes fierce with anger.

"Are you threatening him?"

Morgause's look was disinterested, dismissing his question as though she considered it both foolish and unnecessary.

"Beyond the Veil some things are clearer; I've seen what's to come. Morgana has allied herself with the boy Mordred and their combined strength will be Arthur's downfall."

Merlin felt the blood drain from his face, a hollowness settling deep within his stomach. He tried not to let that fear show, but he wasn't sure how successful he was. Mordred…the name pierced into him. It'd been hanging over him for years, but the longer that passed without the boy showing again, the more Merlin had begun to hope that maybe Kilgharrah had been wrong. Maybe Mordred hadn't even survived after the raid on the druid camp. He was just a boy on his own after all.

And now Morgause was telling Merlin what he'd feared most; Mordred was alive and well. And powerful.

"Even you cannot hope to defeat them both," Morgause continued, ignoring his reaction if she saw it. "Morgana's powers continue to grow and she's almost as strong as you. Mordred possibly more so. There will be a great battle of their making and Arthur will die."

Merlin wasn't sure how much Morgause knew of the prophecies that he'd previously heard; that Morgana and Mordred would join in a deadly alliance and Mordred would kill Arthur. It'd been Kilgharrah that told him, and Merlin very much doubted that the dragon had imparted the information to the High Priestesses. But where had he got it from? Was it well known amongst those of great magic? Could it be that Morgause was purposely trying to use what Merlin feared in order to manipulate him?

Regardless of her motives though, one thing remained; if Mordred was alive then Merlin had to stop him. He'd felt the cold power in the boy, even all those years ago, and he could only guess at what Mordred was capable of by now. It was an intensity of power that'd frightened even him.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked Morgause after a long pause, arms crossing over his chest as he frowned.

Her smiled was coldly amused. "Because we can help each other."

Merlin almost laughed in return. No wonder she was smiling; that was a very amusing notion considering their past.

"And why would you want to help me? Or Arthur? You've demonstrated very well that you're no friend to Camelot."

"It's never been a friend to me," she countered smoothly, continuing before he could attempt to argue that. "But you are correct; I don't care for it or your king. Morgana and protecting the Old Religion are my only interests and neither will be served by this current path."

Merlin frowned at her, cocking his head.

"Magic is dying, our kind is a dying breed. Why do you think the Isle is in such a pitiful state? The Old Religion needs Morgana. She's destined to save it, but that cannot happen whilst she follows that boy and his path of destruction."

"It's her path too," Merlin reminded Morgause coolly, his interest in 'saving' Morgana low. His interest in helping the Old Religion wasn't much higher either. "She chose it. She's the one who wants to bring down everything good in this Kingdom."

Morgause's eyes flashed in anger, her body seeming to draw up to a great height, her spirit suddenly brighter.

"And who drove her to that with the hand of poison?" she challenged, defending her sister. "You could have helped her, you and that traitorous physician. But instead you chose to suppress her, to drug her and tell her lies, when she lived each day in mortal fear of what would've happened if Uther had discovered her true self."

"She should've trusted us."

"You should have given her a reason to trust. How could she when everyone in the kingdom stood by and watched the murder of innocents time after time?" Morgause shook her head, disgusted.

"Well, she made her choice, didn't she?" Merlin reasoned darkly, not liking these accusations. Camelot wasn't like that, even then. There'd always been good people there. Whatever Morgause had in mind, how could he even think about working alongside her when she clearly hated the kingdom so much still? "She doesn't want saving and doesn't want my help," he continued fiercely. "And I certainly don't trust you."

He turned, going to leave, not even considering that showing his back to her was highly reckless.

Something cold plunged deep into his chest and he let out a wordless scream, his knees giving way and causing him to collapse. He tried to look down to see what'd pierced him but there was…nothing.

And then a flash, a flicker of a scene.

It was noisy and disorientating, appearing and disappearing rapidly. He could hear the clash of swords and the cries of dying men. The ground around him was suddenly wet with blood and the bodies made it difficult to walk. Thick smoke was in the air, so acrid that it burned his lungs, fire seeming to lick against his skin. He tried to bat it away but there was nothing there.

The white walls of Camelot were charred and crumbled, the once bustling streets deserted and cold, home to no one anymore.

On a battle field in a mass of bodies, a man lay coughing up his last blood. A sword pierced the familiar armour and a boy waited, not even looking at the fallen king, not trying to help nor glancing at his triumph. He stared ahead. Waiting for Merlin.

Merlin who gasped like a man who'd been held underwater as his eyes shot open and he found himself looking up at Morgause's coldly calm face. He was laying on the hard, uneven cobbles, his head aching where he'd hit it as he'd fell and his face covered in a sheen of perspiration. That'd been like his dreams only far more vivid.

"It will happen," she said darkly, not waiting for him to recover. "If the shadows of the present remain unchanged."

Merlin felt his heart pounding and he was breathless as he dragged himself to his feet.

"And you want to stop it?"

"I want to keep that which I love safe. As do you."

It was a link between them, a tenuous one, but one that could perhaps be trusted to a certain extent.

"How do you suggest we do that?"

"By getting Morgana away from the boy and bringing her back here, where she belongs. He will find things harder without her; he doesn't know Arthur nor Camelot the way she does. She gives him valuable insight as well as a powerful ally. We need to save her from his grasp."

Merlin snorted a short shaky laugh.

"I doubt she'd take kindly to being saved." Nor to anyone believing that she needed it. "And why would she give up? Because you say so?"

Morgause was stoic, not answering, and he just shook his head in disbelief.

"Maybe you don't know her like you think. She believes that whilst Arthur's on the throne, her kind aren't safe and magic will never be welcome in Camelot. She's not going to stop fighting that."

"Do you blame her?" Morgause challenged lightly. "There are still laws against it after all. Laws that would see her dead and which your bright new king has made no effort to repeal. Why should she sit around and hope he doesn't slaughter her kind like his father did? Why do you still hide what you truly are if it isn't for fear of how he would react?"

Merlin was tight lipped. He had faith in Arthur, but even that was shaded by doubt at times. He knew Arthur was a good man, but he was one with a past tarred by a father who hated magic, who'd lost both his parents to it, who'd seen his sister fall into darkness because of it and witnessed his city attacked by it. It was a vicious circle of hate and distrust, and even Merlin wondered sometimes if the inner goodness of one man could break that. But he had to trust in it because the alternative was unthinkable.

"Morgana spoke highly of him once," Morgause continued. "She wanted to believe in him, no matter how much her faith was shaken. But no one can survive on such thin belief and he did nothing to strengthen it. I am not convinced of the worth of Arthur Pendragon either, nor am I assured of our safety under his rule. But I am willing to risk what I care about most to try to save what I love. What are you willing to risk, Emrys, to save your friend and see the future you desire?"

He was silent for a few, long moments, thinking deeply. If Morgana was with Mordred, any plan to get to her and bring her back here would be dangerous. And she was hardly likely to come quietly. Yet he couldn't let things continue towards what he'd seen in that vision.

"Why hasn't Morgana seen this future?" he questioned quietly, mind thinking it through. "She's a Seer. She might know what's going to happen and is happy to go along with it."

Morgause looked suddenly uneasy, glancing towards the ground with a thoughtful and troubled expression on her face.

"Mordred is suppressing her dreams," she explained, "only letting her see what he wants. The bracelet I gave her would still permit something this potent through and yet…Even I can't get through to her."

Merlin looked confused. How could that be if Morgana was as powerful as Morgause claimed she was? Mordred shouldn't be able to control her like that.

Morgause looked at him with surprise and then shook her head as though disappointed that he didn't know the answer.

"Morgana's mind is powerful but was unprotected for many years. Magic allows her to see what is to come, but it has to enter her mind in order to do so. Any suitably powerful magic can in fact. A Seer, properly trained from childhood, learns how to secure their mind against such unwanted intrusion, but Morgana was never given such instruction. She was allowed to continue to develop unaided and, intentionally or not, Mordred latched on to that when they first met, using it to convince her to protect him. Now he has great control and influence over her, even if it goes against her own true judgement. He's using her anger and turning her to plans that serve him alone. He has his own goals and will use anyone to see them through, even Morgana."

Merlin was silent, remembering how he'd heard Mordred in his mind. It'd been….uncomfortable. Like an intruder was fiddling around in there.

"I need to get to Morgana," Morgause concluded. "I am the only one with sufficient influence over her and skill enough to break Mordred's hold. She will listen to me and once her mind is clear, she'll listen to compromise if suggested by the right person. I can turn her back to her rightful path."

Merlin wasn't entirely sure he wanted the Old Religion reborn but if it was a choice between that and Mordred…

He sighed, letting out a deep breath. It seemed that he'd agreed to all this without actually saying a word.

"Maybe you can but there's not much you can do about it in your current state, is there?"

Morgause smiled widely, genuinely pleased.

"Yes, you're absolutely right."