Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews…they helped out a great deal. I really needed the motivation and now that you all have provided that I have not only decided how I want this story to end (which I think will be epic by the way), but have also come up with the next story in the series. I am probably going to keep writing them until I get bored of it. Thoughts? Suggestions? Inquiring minds would like to know. So, here is the next chapter! It is going to be a long one. Hope you enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!

Hunith had never grown up believing in love at first sight. Life was hard in the border villages and a child learned early on that flights of fancy and daydreams often led to an early grave. This was why, of course, she had been so surprised at how quickly she fell for the troubled stranger who had suddenly appeared within their midst.

At first she convinced herself that she was merely curious. The man was a bit of an anomaly, after all. Folks tended to gravitate away from the humdrum life of a border villager, but this man, for whatever reason, had left what must have been an easier path and traded it for one of hard work and sweat.

Curiosity, that was all. Or so she told herself, but every time she saw him she felt a glow in her belly and her heartbeat quickened. He had hardly spoken to her, or anyone for that matter, but his quiet strength and gentle smile called to her in a way that poetic words never could. Yet she still refused to believe what she felt was love and would have continued doing so had it not been for a rainy night and a particularly cheeky cow.

It had been a cold night and would have chilled the stoutest of people to the bone, even if it hadn't been raining. The rain only added an extra layer of misery to the night's already heavily cloaked despair. Ipa, her one and only milk cow, had been spooked by the horrendous clashes of thunder and had run off and though wolves were uncommon sights upon the flat plains of the border villages they were not unheard of. Hunith would be damned if she lost a key component to her survival to a mangy canine.

She would have walked all night had she not turned her ankle and fell face first into a rather muddy ravine. She had tried to get back up, but kept slipping in the slick, rain drenched dirt. She sat down tiredly and the mud made an unpleasant squelching noise beneath her. Her teeth were chattering and she had lost the feeling in her fingers and toes. If she didn't make it out of there she would freeze to death for sure.

Luck, however, was on her side. Not more than fifteen minutes after she had fallen she heard the deep baritone of the stranger from Camelot and, after she had identified herself, had been carried from the ravine and back to her house as if she weighed no more than an infant.

That had been the night that Hunith had learned the stranger's true origin and power. It had been the night that she finally admitted her feelings for the man. It had been the night that she had passed from a girl into a woman. And it had been the night her son was conceived.

Hunith didn't know she was pregnant, of course. At least not for the two glorious months she had spent with Balinor. They had been happy and would have remained so had Uther's hatred not caught up to them both. The Dragon Lord had never even said goodbye, not in person anyway, but had left a heartfelt letter that brought Hunith to tears for the first time in a long time.

It was only a month after his departure that Hunith discovered his last parting gift to her. A druid woman, heavy with her own unborn child, and her husband had passed through her village in search of a safe place to settle down, free from the unforgiving eye of the King of Camelot. The woman had put a gentle hand to Hunith's belly and smiled, green eyes bright with hope.

"A son," she had said. "You carry a son."

"No," Hunith replied, shaking her head. "You must be mistaken, I—"

"I am never wrong," the woman whispered, lips still curved into a shy, impish grin. "He will have your eyes, I think."

"There is no child," Hunith had replied bitterly.

"You will see," the woman said. "You will see."

And she had seen and with her sudden sight she felt a great bitterness fall from her shoulders. She threw herself into preparing for the birth of her child and when Merlin had squalled for the first time Hunith thought she had never heard a more beautiful sound. As she cradled him close to her she couldn't help but notice the babes dark blue eyes that matched her own.

For the first seven months of his life Merlin had seemed like a normal, healthy baby. He cooed and spit and gummed anything he could get his grubby fingers on and had been the most inquisitive infant Hunith had ever seen. It wasn't until Merlin's eighth month that Hunith's illusion of normalcy was shattered. Suddenly, Merlin delighted in hovering his rattle in midair, his ocean blue eyes flashing briefly into a honey gold. He giggled delightedly at the prospect of gliding his spoonful of whatever vegetable Hunith had mashed into his open, tooth speckled mouth.

After that Hunith couldn't remember a time that she hadn't been running around after her son, trying to keep him from trouble. It had been difficult for Merlin to understand why his gifts had to remain secret and it had nearly broken Hunith's heart to have to keep his talents locked away, hidden like some dirty secret. It had gotten easier as the boy grew older, but she knew that her son had consistently felt alienated and alone.

She wished, of course, that Balinor could see the power his son wielded. If anyone could have helped him understand just who and what he was it would have been Merlin's father, but the man was gone and had not been heard from since his disappearance. Hunith did not know whether the man was alive or dead and couldn't see any point in telling her son about a man who could never be anything to him but a broken fantasy.

Things might have been fine if her son hadn't told young Will about his powers. She had been furious when she had found out and knew that the time for her son to seek more knowledge about his uncanny talents was upon them. She had sent him to Camelot with a heart heavy with both worry and excitement and she hoped that he would find the place he truly belonged.

Of course, she had never expected that place to be at Prince Arthur's side. Leave it to Merlin to naturally gravitate towards the one person that was most dangerous to him. She had been terrified for him and had only been appeased after meeting the young prince for the first time when he had come to their rescue. Their friendship had come as quite a shock to her, but she had taken it in stride because Merlin had seemed happier than she had ever seen him. Besides, if Merlin was to be believed, their destinies were tightly entwined.

Every time she had seen her son since then the two men had only seemed closer. Hunith was proud that Merlin had found a friend as good as Arthur and though the king had a difficult time showing his affection there was no doubt in Hunith's mind that it existed. Of course, a year had passed since she had last seen her son and as she stood upon the castle steps her heart ached with longing.

Merlin did not know she was here and she imagined the look on his face when he saw her. She only wished that she could have brought happy tidings with her, but that was not to be. She had news to give to Arthur that would be a matter of life and death to the king and the thousand refugees that were slowly making their way to seek shelter within Camelot's walls.

"Hunith?" the king asked in surprise, as if Hunith's thoughts had summoned him. "My god, Hunith, what are you doing here?"

"My lord," she whispered, turning to face him and kneeling. "It is good to see you again."

"None of that," Arthur chastised, pulling Hunith to her feet. "You do not kneel to me, Hunith. And call me Arthur. Please."

"My apologies," she murmured. "I have grave news, Arthur. There is an army heading this way. I believe they mean to attack Camelot."

"I know," Arthur said grimly, his jaw clenching tightly. "We've already begun planning our defense."

"Then you know that they aren't human?"

"Yes, I'm well aware of that as well. Luckily, I have more than one secret weapon at my disposal. One willing and one, well, she's still up for debate."

"Arthur," Hunith whispered. "Please tell me you have made arrangements for refugees."

"We have a plan in place," Arthur replied, studying her face closely. "Why? What do you know?"

"There are over a thousand refugees," Hunith answered quietly. "Most of them women and children. They raided Ealdor four days ago. There is almost nothing left and the stories are the same everywhere."

"A thousand," Arthur breathed, face paling. "Gods, I don't—how will we ever feed them all? We have enough food for a few hundred at most, but a thousand?"

"If you must turn them away I believe they will understand," Hunith whispered.

"Not a chance," Arthur growled. "They are looking to me for protection and I will give them that. They are my people, Hunith. I will not abandon them in their hour of need."

"And what of us that come from lands beyond your reach? You owe us nothing."

"Perhaps not, but I won't be sending anyone away," Arthur said fiercely. "I don't care where you are from or who you have sworn fealty to. My offer of protection extends to anyone."

"You are a good man," Hunith smiled. "My son was right about you."

"Merlin," the king suddenly exclaimed, slapping his hand to his face. "Ah, I keep forgetting about him. Hunith, do you think Merlin could some sort of food spell? You know, do his little eye flash thing and make the food storage double or something?"

"I'm sorry," Hunith rasped, heart trying to claw its way up her throat. "What did you just say?"

"Merlin doing a little food magic," Arthur replied, expression a curious mix of concern and confusion. "I mean, I've seen him work some pretty powerful spells so I figure that maybe he can—"

"He told you," Hunith whispered, suddenly feeling very dizzy. "He really told you."

"You mean—you didn't know," Arthur said, appalled. "But, I thought that he—Merlin, you idiot. Hunith, he was supposed to write to you."

"How," the woman croaked. "How did you find out?"

"Er," Arthur mumbled, suddenly looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. "Hunith, I don't think I'm the person who should really tell you about—"

"Please, Arthur."

"Well, it was a bit of an accident really. He saved my life and then we sort of talked it over and that was that."

"You are no better at lying to me than he is," Hunith snorted. "What really happened, Arthur? Is my son alright?"

"He's Merlin," Arthur said, evading her question. "When is he ever alright?"

"Arthur, I need to know if my son is okay. Please, just tell me he his okay."

"I'm fine, mother," her son said softly, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and spinning her into a tight hug.

When Hunith pulled back to look at her son she couldn't decide whether his appearance or the appearance of the woman standing beside him shocked her more. Her son had grown thinner, if such a thing were possible, and there were dark bruise-like shadows beneath eyes muddied with exhaustion. He looked fragile, but his grin was there and it was unmistakably Merlin.

The woman standing beside him was obviously not human and was obviously in love with her son. Her long, slender hand fit perfectly into Merlin's and the moment they touched her son's grin widened. His blue eyes were filled with contentment and Hunith got the strange idea that if Merlin were a cat he would be purring.

"Mother," Merlin whispered, sensing Hunith's questioning glance. "This is Awen. She's my—well, she's my—she's—"

"We're lovers," Awen finished, watching in amusement as Merlin blushed furiously.

"Lovers," he groaned. "You had to go with lovers? It sounds so…blech!"

"Blech isn't a word," Arthur pointed out, taking obvious joy out of his friend's nervous squirming.

"Don't make me curse you," Merlin said pointedly, raising his eyebrows at his king.

"Merlin," Hunith cried, shocked. "You can't say something like that."

"Why not? I threaten to curse him all the time. Don't I, Arthur?"

"It's true," Arthur grinned. "Although, he's too much of a coward to actually go through with it."

"You just wait," Merlin laughed. "One of these days Gwen will be waking up beside a hedgehog or something equally demeaning."

"The whole world has gone mad," Hunith whispered. "Stark raving mad!"

"What was that, mother?"

"Merlin, how could you not tell me about this? This is obviously not a new development for you two if your childish bickering is any indication. How long has Arthur known?"

"Almost six months," Merlin answered, at least having the decency to look guilty.

"Six months? He's known for six months and you haven't mentioned it once in your letters?"

"I wanted to tell you," Merlin said earnestly. "But…"

"But?"

"But you would have asked how he found out and I just…I wasn't ready to talk about that yet."

"And now?"

"I don't know, mother. It's…it's not a pleasant story."

"Were you hurt?"

"Yes."

"How badly?"

"Mother—"

"It was bad," Arthur suddenly blurted. "Very, very bad."

"Arthur," Merlin hissed, glaring daggers at his friend.

"She's your mother," the king replied, unconcerned with Merlin's anger. "She deserves to know and I could already tell you were going to downplay the whole thing. You always do that, you know."

"You can't just—"

"Merlin, I know you are a bit dense and have a habit of forgetting things so I will remind you that I am the king."

"Your point?"

"I can do and say whatever I would like to, Merlin, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it."

"Prat."

"Clotpole."

"Royal assho—"

"Boys," Hunith snapped. "Enough of that. Honestly, how the two of you run this kingdom I'll never know."

Hunith nearly laughed when both men turned to look at her sheepishly, but managed to hold her disapproving frown in place.

"Arthur, Awen," Hunith said, gripping her son's upper arm tightly. "Please excuse us for a moment. We have a lot to talk about."

"I would imagine," Arthur replied. "Hunith, after you are done chatting with Merlin I would really like to speak with you about the refugee situation and all that you know about our demon friends."

"Of course, Arthur. I am more than glad to help in any way that I can."

"Thank you," the king said, nodding at her curtly and flipping Merlin a rather antagonizing smile. "Don't be too hard on him, Hunith. I need him in one piece if that's alright."

He left in a hurry and was followed by the inhumanly beautiful woman who kept a watchful gaze on Merlin's face as she went. There seemed to be some sort of unspoken conversation taking place because Merlin nodded slightly then grinned at her. She smiled back then turned her head and did not look back again.

"Are you angry with me," Merlin asked Hunith suddenly, sitting down on the far side of the castle steps with his head in his hands.

"No," Hunith answered. "I just don't know why you wouldn't tell me something like this, Merlin. You've been waiting for this moment you're whole life and now that it's here you don't even want me to know."

"It wasn't that, mother. Honestly, I wanted to tell you, but I knew you would worry. I went through hell and I didn't want you to know about it until I'd figured things out."

"What happened, Merlin?"

"I can't," Merlin whispered, expression agonized. "I was tortured, mother. I felt pain that I didn't even think possible and I just can't talk about it without feeling it all over again. I relive it enough in my dreams. I don't want to relive it when I'm awake as well."

"Tortured," Hunith whispered, trying to wrap her mind around her only son being physically and mentally tormented. "By who?"

"It's hard to explain," Merlin mumbled. "Please don't make me try."

"Alright," Hunith agreed softly. "You don't have to tell me until you are ready, Merlin. I understand."

"Thank you," he whispered, leaning into her and sighing when she wrapped her arms around him. "I missed you."

"I missed you more," she replied, kissing the top of his head. "Tell me about the Awen girl."

Merlin was more than happy to share whatever information he could think of when it came to the Awen girl. He touched briefly on her role in defeating the monstrosity that had dared harm her son, but filled whatever void had been left by amusing tales and facts about the woman he loved.

"She sounds lovely," Hunith said once he was finished.

"She is, mother. I really think you'll like her."

She smiled then looked up at the sky, watching as the sun made its last bid for dominancy in the west.

"It's getting late," she told Merlin. "We should be getting in. We have a lot to talk about."

Merlin helped her up and she stretched, her back muscles tight from sitting on the castle steps for over an hour. Together they walked towards the king's chambers, chatting mildly about various topics. Hunith was warmed by how many servants, knights, and noble men greeted her son with friendly words and even friendlier smiles.

"Ah, just in time," Arthur exclaimed when they entered the throne room. "Please sit down, you two. Unfortunately my wife will not be joining us, but there is a fantastic dinner to be had."

"Thank you," Hunith said softly, sitting down beside her son and staring at a large plate full of roasted pheasant, fresh strawberries, cooked squash, and three fat sausages. To her right stood the largest assortment of pastries she had ever seen.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Merlin's eyes flash gold and moments later heard the king's exasperated sigh.

"Merlin," he snapped. "Why do you insist upon playing this game every time I sit down to eat? And haven't we talked about what constitutes a productive use of a spell?"

"I haven't done anything," Merlin said.

"Merlin, you took my sausages! Again!"

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you—oh, never mind."

"Merlin," Hunith chastised, shooting her son a disparaging look. "Give the king back his sausages."

"I didn't take anything," Merlin exclaimed. "I think we have more important things to discuss than disappearing sausages, don't we?"

"I saw your eyes flash gold," Arthur grumbled. "You did to take them."

"I was casting a muffling spell," Merlin snapped irritably. "There are prying ears everywhere, Arthur. And even more important there are prying minds."

"Whatever you say, Merlin. Whatever you say."

"Gentleman," Hunith interrupted gently. "I believe there are refugees we need to discuss."

"Yes," Arthur said grimly, sucking the last morsel of meat from a pheasant bone before tossing it haphazardly at Merlin's face. "Where are we going to put them all?"

"That's easy," Merlin yawned. "In the caves below the castle, sire."

"What caves, Merlin? There are no caves."

"Sure there are, Arthur."

"Merlin, I know this castle like the back of my hand. There are no caves."

"So I just imagined Kilgarrah flying around in a giant cavern, did I?"

"Shut-up, Merlin."

"The cavern wouldn't work," Merlin continued, ignoring his king. "There is a giant chasm right in the middle of it, but one of the surrounding caves might work. I could open a gateway in the rock then shut it again once we get everyone inside."

"How many could it hold, do you think?"

"A great deal more than a thousand, Arthur. Those caves are huge."

"The question is whether or not you'll have time to get them all in," Hunith said. "The demons are not far behind them, my lord. They send out hunting parties at night and even with a thousand of us there are dozens missing in the morning."

"Hunting parties," Arthur repeated, turning slightly green. "Are you saying they are hunting people, Hunith? For what purpose?"

"I think…well, I think they eat them," Hunith whispered, trying to block the memory of their agonized screams from her mind.

Arthur was quiet for a long time, but his jaw clenched savagely and Hunith was mildly concerned that the lad would eventually break his teeth. His eyes were hard and cold. Whoever that gaze landed upon would be very sorry indeed.

Merlin gripped her hand tightly and when she looked at him his expression was one she rarely saw upon her son's face. The warlock was furious, there was no doubt about that, but the quiet rage he now exhibited was somehow far more primal and dangerous than any Hunith had ever encountered. There was no pity in the tension of his shoulders, no mercy in the contours of his clenched jaw.

"Merlin," Arthur rasped after a moment. "I hope your plan works, old friend. I want nothing more than to see these bastards burn."

"I'll make it work," Merlin replied quietly. "If it's the last thing I do, Arthur."

"This plan of yours," Hunith said. "Is it dangerous?"

Merlin studied her face for a moment as if gauging whether he should be honest with her or not. She knew he was only trying to spare her worry, but the idea that her son might lie to her after all these years angered her. He must have seen the fury in her eyes, however, for he sighed and gripped her hand even tighter than before.

"It will be very dangerous," he answered softly. "There is a very good chance I'll be killed, but it doesn't change what needs to be done in any way. This is what I was made for, mother. I was given magic so I could help people and that is precisely what I mean to do."

"I understand, Merlin. As your mother I cannot say that I am entirely pleased with the idea of you being in harms way, but I am also very proud of you for your bravery. Your father would be proud to."

"Yes," Arthur said impatiently. "We are all very proud of Merlin, but we have a war to plan for. Hunith, what can you tell me about them? We have some information, but it doesn't come from an entirely trusted source."

"They have no souls," Hunith said before she could stop herself. "I'm sorry, I know that is not the information you meant, but it is true none the less. They kill because the enjoy it, Arthur and they do not differentiate between children and adults. It is all meat to them. They are calculating and organized to a fault. They will not attack Camelot recklessly and they will not make it easy for you to find their weak points, if any are to be had."

For some odd reason Arthur was grinning at her. It was a dangerous smile, all pointed teeth and sharp edges. She turned to her son and found a similar curve on his lips.

"What are you two grinning about," she asked sharply.

"Hunith," Arthur said quietly. "You just told me exactly what I wanted to hear."

"What?"

"The second part of our plan," Merlin explained. "You see, while Kilgarrah and I are working our magic, Arthur will be attempting to keep the demons busy long enough for me to do what I need to. I can't expel magic over the entire city; the mere effort of it would kill me. So I need a specific area to target. Arthur will be providing that by confronting them and keeping them in that area."

"And the information I gave you helps you how?"

"You said they were organized," Arthur said fiercely. "The one downfall of organization, Hunith, is that it is predictable. It's like a dance, do you see?"

"No," Hunith replied. "Not at all."

"A dance has premeditated moves," Arthur informed her. "Once you know those moves you can match them with your own. War is much the same, you see. There are premeditated countermeasures that every defending city takes, just as there are premeditated measures an attacking city takes. And, just like a dance, the slightest improvisation or unexpected move can bring the whole plan crumbling down. That is precisely what I mean to do."

"And how will you accomplish this," Hunith asked.

"They'll expect us to fight them from the walls of Camelot," Merlin answered. "They will plan on meeting us at the gates, but we won't be there. In fact, we won't be in the Lower Town at all, at least not as far as they'll be able to see."

"I don't understand," Hunith said. "You are just going to let them in?"

"That's exactly what we are going to do," Arthur said quietly. "The best place to fight is on ground you know and offers a great deal of obstacles. As long as you know these obstacles it is no problem, but for those who don't…well…it gets complicated rather quickly. Besides, they won't ever see us coming."

"And why is that?"

"They'll be invisible," Merlin said, a note of pride in his voice. "Thanks to me, of course. The Shadow Spirits will never see them."

"Can you do that, Merlin? Can you hold two spells at once?"

"I won't have to," Merlin replied. "I've enchanted various articles of clothing or jewelry that the men will wear. Once they have been put on the spell will start to work. It's residual magic and won't last forever, but it will last long enough for our purposes."

"And what about noise? Smell? Just because they can't see doesn't mean they can't hear."

"Your son is really quite a brilliant battle planner," Arthur drawled confidently. "He's already thought of that as well. Each of my men will be covered in mud which should mask most of the scents and as for the sound Merlin has provided us with a rather marvelous distraction."

"Two dragons can cause quite the uproar," Merlin grinned.

"Why don't the dragons simply take care of them?"

"It doesn't work that way," Merlin grimaced. "They are impervious to flames, from what we understand. And any other magic the dragons posses has to be grounded by a living vessel."

"But Excalibur—"

"Is a sword, yes, mother, but objects work differently. They are unchanging you see and have a specific place within the mortal world. There is no other worldliness to them and they can therefor be changed at will. A dragon cannot alter the nature of something with a soul because it has ties to a different world. We can only be vessels. Besides, there is no way we could be sure that they took care of all the demons. It has to be this way."

"And I take it that you are going to volunteer to be this vessel?"

"That is the general plan, yes. Kilgarrah will use the same magic he did on the sword and use me to direct it onto the target area."

"And the risks?"

"It's powerful magic, mother. I may not be entirely mortal, but power of that magnitude could easily kill me."

"And how will you not kill the men that are fighting?"

"We'll alter the magic," Merlin replied. "Instead of targeting life it will target death. The demons are alive, but the corpses they are using are not. It may not destroy them, but it will certainly send them back to whatever dark place they came from."

"Well," Hunith said shakily. "It certainly seems you two have given this a lot of thought."

"We have," Arthur replied. "I know it's a long shot, but it's something and that's all we can ask for."

"And my son? You are willing to sacrifice his life?"

"Mother," Merlin yelped, looking from Hunith to Arthur. "That's not how it is at all! Arthur is—"

"Hush Merlin," Arthur said quietly, before turning to face her. "Hunith, I know that I haven't always been there for Merlin and I know that it must have been difficult for you, knowing that your son put himself in harms way for a man who didn't appreciate it. But, I hope you understand that as a king I have to put my people before anyone else, no matter how I feel about them. If anything were to happen to Merlin I—well, I don't know what kind of man I would be without him. But, it doesn't change duty, Hunith. I want nothing more than to keep him by my side and protect him with my life, but I can't. Merlin understands that. Can you?"

"I understand duty," Hunith said softly. "And I understand that my son does what he does because he is good and kind and wishes only to help. But…he is blind when it comes to you, Arthur. He would follow you into hell if you asked it of him. Do you ever think that you ask too much?"

"Every day," the king replied softly.

"Then you have my blessing," Hunith whispered. "But know this, Arthur. If my son is taken from me I will never forgive you. It may not be much, but I thought you should know."