An air of desperate joy lay over the great hall. Arthur slouched in his seat, absently swirling the last of his wine around and around in the goblet, his eyes on the assembly before him. A hundred or more of Camelot's highest born nobles had gathered for the feast- held in Lady Drusilla's honor after all. Every one of them had put on their happiest faces for the occasion, as though the city was not a dry forest ready to burst into flames at the slightest spark. Arthur knew it. Drusilla knew it. They saw, on their daily walks together, how the people simmered at every new and draconic law the King put into place- for the security of the realm. Even the nobles who never deigned to walk among the commoners sensed the unrest. It seemed the only one who did not know what was happening was Uther himself, blinded as he was to anything that did not involve the persecution of sorcerers.

"May I refill your cup, Sire?" George appeared at his elbow, a jug of wine in hand.

Arthur held the goblet up and let the man fill it halfway. It was only his second cup, but the prince had a feeling he would need his wits about him, if only to keep from saying something ill-advised that would land him in the dungeons for the night. Or longer. "Stay here, George. There are others who can take care of the rest of the flock tonight."

The drab servant took a step back to disappear into the shadow of the prince's chair, a mumbled, "Yes, Sire," on his lips. A smile almost pulled at Arthur's lips. George might have been dull as dirt, but he had been singularly effective at collecting intelligence and dispersing Arthur's wishes to the necessary ears. Without him, Arthur would not have received Guinevere's letters, Leon's reports, communicated with Lancelot, or heard from a dozen and more lords who were turning against Uther's new laws.

Without George, Arthur would never have heard the most disturbing report of all- that the people had not openly rebelled for fear of what Uther would do to their prince. Would a deranged king who saw monsters in every shadow destroy his own son and heir in his search for evil? No one wanted to put the notion to the test.

Arthur downed half his wine in one long pull before setting the goblet on the table with a hollow thud. A dozen seats down, Gaius noticed the motion and offered him a faint smile. The old physician looked even older these days, and no wonder. It was hard enough for Arthur to negotiate his father's whims, even with the protection his royal blood gave him. How much harder was it for Gaius, a one-time sorcerer who had no noble blood or great family name to shield him?

Then there was Merlin. His birds had come, gone, and come back again, but neither owl nor merlin brought messages. Nor had Leon or any of his other knights reported seeing him anywhere. The last word they had had for a month and more was the story Leon brought back after the first hunt- that Merlin, shot in the back and broken by his fall, had been set upon by dogs before vanishing into the air. "One word, Merlin. Just one word so we'd know." He sighed and dragged a hand over his eyes, wishing he could just retire for the night and forget this whole sordid affair. But no. He was the Crown Prince of Camelot and even in these dark times, he was expected to maintain the royal hospitality, even if what he really wanted to do was send the gilded assembly away, drink himself into an unsteady oblivion, and sleep for the next five years.

He caught a glimpse of bright yellow at the edge of his vision and glanced over to find Elayne whispering some droll comment into Drusilla's ear as she refilled her mistress's wine. The Lady's lips twitched as she held back a smile, and Arthur almost smiled when he caught Elayne's eye. The girl might not have the sharpest wit in the kingdom, but if she could make her lady smile at all on such a night, then she was worth her weight in gold.

Arthur sat back again, his thoughts wandering far from the shallow spectacle before him, and he wondered what sort of commentary Merlin would have offered tonight. Much as he hated to admit it, the prince had always found the sorcerer's comments amusing. Sometimes they were they only thing that got him through these feasts, when he would rather be anywhere else.

"Arthur."

The voice was soft, as though spoken next to his ear, but Arthur saw no one there when he turned to look. Only George was there, jug of wine at the ready, a confused expression appearing on his face when he noticed the prince's scrutiny. "Sire? Do you need anything?"

"No, George. I thought. . . I thought I heard something. It's nothing." Nothing at all. It had only sounded like Merlin. Weeks of fatigue and loneliness were taking their toll. His mind was starting to play tricks on him. He would speak to Gaius about it in the morning. There was no chance that Merlin was actually there. As stupidly loyal as the man could be, even he was not foolish enough to appear at Uther Pendragon's court.

A herald in too-bright livery shuffled forward. The feather in his hat bobbled wildly with every step, prompting fits of laughter even as he called for silence. He finally managed to raise his voice above the din, the voices falling quiet. "Pray silence for His Majesty, the King."

Uther rose and the assembly stood with him, the squeaking and scraping of chairs echoed in the quiet that followed. "My Lords, My Ladies, we have gathered here this evening for a dual purpose. First, to honor the arrival of Lady Drusilla of Blackheath, whose husband, Lord Ector, has always been a stalwart ally to the Throne of Camelot. Even now, he leads his forces to victory against the vile raiding parties ordered by the Sarrum of Amata." There was the sound of whispering and shuffling at that, a veiled insult to the Lady, and a refusal to acknowledge the truth of how thinly spread were Camelot's defenses in the north. But if anyone was foolish enough to speak louder than a whisper, they could not hear it at the head table. Drusilla smiled thinly as Uther nodded to her and raised his cup, "To our friends from Blackheath."

"To Blackheath."

"And secondly," Uther said, "To celebrate the continuation of the cleansing of our lands of the poison that is sorcery." No whispers remarked upon this second declaration. Arthur went still, noting the eyes that flicked toward him. "For twenty-five years, we have been at near constant war with these depraved creatures that would destroy the peace and security that are so dear to us. It is my promise to you now, that the dark forces of magic will never again threaten this realm."

The flew open in answer, their thunderous crash prompting screams and shouts of alarm as a slender figure in black strode into the hall, her hair a river of bright gold down her back. Morgause looked unchanged from the previous year, when she and Morgana had tried- and failed- to usurp the throne. "Uther Pendragon," she purred as she reached the center of the room, between the two long tables where everyone could see her. She cast a careless glance back at a pair of guards brave enough to rush her. Her eyes flashed gold and the two men went flying. "Did you really think that sending a few of your knights into the woods to burn down some huts would truly rid the world of magic? You are as foolish now as you ever were. You cannot destroy magic. It is part of this world, as much as the air above and the stone below. And no matter how hard you try, even you cannot banish the old gods."

Arthur felt more than saw the darkness pressing at the edges of his vision as Morgause raised her hands, "Isn't it ironic, Great King," her words dripped sarcasm, "That in the very moment you promise your people they will never again be attacked by magic, a sorceress arrives you kill you?" Her smile was cold as she brought her hands to the level of her eyes, summoning the darkness closer as she began to chant:

"In niht tungolbære

In sé rýne móna

Ic bebeodan þisne sweartung

abradwian þás Pendragons!"

The panicked nobles cried out, but their voices seemed distant to the prince, as though his head were underwater. Dimly, he saw Uther stagger back, clutching his head as he fell. Then Arthur could think of nothing but the spike of pain behind his own eyes and the red tinge that fell over his vision. He felt a gust of wind as he dropped to his knees and saw a flash of brilliant white light. Then darkness overwhelmed him, and he knew nothing more.


A/N: Thank you to everyone who has followed/favorited this story, and especially to those who took the time to leave a review. It's wonderful to get feedback, and knowing that you're reading the story and anxiously awaiting new chapters keeps me writing. So thank you!

p.s. Please forgive my Old English. I'm not studying it much, as a couple of other languages are occupying my attention at present.