When I saw this prompt I knew I had to make a little nod to Arthurian legend. Hope you like it. I don't own the legend or the show. Future fic set sometime during the Golden Age, (had there been one).

Tree

Sabella couldn't help but wonder if this visit would come to mean anything special for these two.

They weren't the first of Camelot's knight hopefuls to appear in her camp. King Arthur had a habit of sending the more...troubled, (and occasionally troublesome), amongst them to the druids, in the hope that spending time with a people who made peace their way of life would remind the impressionable young men just what the goal of knighthood service was.

So far she has seen an almost even split in the number of those who understood the lesson and those that did not. She can't help but hope that, despite this, the king still gave them all an equal chance when they returned. Some lessons took time to sink in.

The problem, Sabella muses, is the age of some of these recruits. They had been born long after the purge. Some were even too young to remember a time when magic was banned. Those born in a time of equality didn't always find it easy to understand why it took so long to reach that point.

Such was the case now as one of the two currently sitting and dining with them asks, rather incredulously, why the druids never took up an active campaign against Camelot's war on magic. Why they just let it happen.

The elders try their best to explain that as horrible as those actions had been, it was known they would not last forever.

"You can slaughter all the people you want," one says. "It's simply impossible to destroy something woven into the fabric of the earth."

"But how could you possibly know that?"

There's nothing malicious about the question. In fact these boys are more genuine than any Sabella had seen in many years. Therefore, after a long moment's thought, she decides to show them what none of the other visitors have seen.

Getting carefully to her feet, she signals to questioner and his companion. "Come with me."

A short walk into the forest brings them to a small clump of trees. Three of them to be exact. Tall, strong, and joined at the root. The boys look at them curiously then at her, seeming to sense a story coming.

Seating herself on a nearby stump, she begins:

"More than half a century ago there was a group of rare and powerful magic users. Nine of them. They had trained together for so many years that each one's magic had begun to mirror that the others. They could act on their own or in tandem with masterful results. Overtime they gained command of a skill long thought to be impossible. It would allow, if all were in agreement, one sorcerer to gift control of their magic to another. If it became necessary, as few as two or three amongst them could even meld the power of all nine.

"It was a dangerous idea, and it would be unlikely that the ones wielding the combined might would survive, but in those years they never dreamed they would have the need to actually use it. Of course during the purge there was every need." Pausing to clear her throat, she makes sure the eyes of the young men keeling on the ground are entirely on her.

"Now I need you to understand something. These ones could have escaped Uther's wrath with ease. They could have disappeared any time of the day or night and no one would have been able to find them. Instead they chose to stay nearby and help others escape. Not many, for every soul that they saved half a dozen were slaughtered, but still they counted every one as a victory.

"Then one day Uther announced he was going to hold a grand execution. One hundred people accused of sorcery were to burn on the same day. Men, women, even children. They were already in the dungeons, ready to die by fire. As you might imagine this group immediately made plans to get them out. It was almost certainly a trap, but they had to help. Had to save the ones Uther held, as they knew them to be innocent. In fact it was doubtful even half of them had magic in the first place.

"Despite heavy security in the citadel the first part of the plan, getting the prisoners out of the cells and into underground tunnels, was successful. But one of the guards who pledged to aid them, for reasons that were never discovered, failed to keep his word. He was meant to have an exit gate unlocked and torches darkened on the east wall facing the forest. The delay in correcting these problems lead to them getting spotted. Uther's forces struck fast and they struck hard. Soon it was clear someone would have to stay behind and make a stand so as to give the others their best chance of escape. Three of the nine choose to do this."

A smile works its way to her face, prompted both by memory, and by the metaphorically spellbound faces of the youths in front of her. "Even individually they were a sight to behold. An ordinary opponent would have been beaten back within minutes. But Camelot's soldiers were relentless. Injured and losing ground, the three finally had to concede their only chance was to do that which they had never imagined necessary. Summoning the last of their strength they called to their brethren, blended their might and magic together and well... that was that. Or rather, it should have been."

Gesturing to their stately companions she concludes,"In the last moment fate, or magic, or perhaps just the earth itself, stepped in and embraced their dying bodies. Transformed them into the trees you see here. Three joined as one until the end of time."

"Did the others get away?" The boys want to know.

"Most of them. The rest of the nine were severely depleted of energy, both magical and emotional, but as I am living proof, the ones they helped escape went on to live long and happy - if not entirely safe - lives."

The two squires contemplate that for a few minutes, sharing relieved smiles. One then asks what happened to Uther's men.

"Oh, the majority of them lived," she answers. Their shocked expressions bring another smile to her face. "The goal of the three sorcerers was never to kill the ones attacking them. Stop them from catching up yes, but what good would it have done for the people of Camelot to have their loyal defenders slaughtered in a magical rage. Would it not have played directly into Uther's charge that magic brought only evil? Oh no, the goal of the nine was always to protect life, not destroy it."

"No one's ever talked about this before."

"Which is not surprising. It was Uther's one great defeat. Those who returned home after the battle was over were told that if they talked about that night to anyone, they and everyone they loved would be charged with treason and executed. This part of the forest was declared off limits for nearly a decade, and the incident was buried under the king's mad glory of himself."

Again the younger squire starts to say something, then hesitates.

Sabella smiles encouragingly at him. "Please, ask your question. You are here to learn are you not?"

Staring up into the tree he wonders, "Are they still..alive? I mean, that is, are they aware they're a tree?"

She follows his gaze, appreciating the depth of thought in the inquiry. "It's difficult to say, but I'm inclined to think they are not. They were granted this continued existence as a reward for their sacrifice, but it's only reasonable to think their human lives ended that day."

The older boy speaks up for the time. "Isn't it hard seeing them like this? Having such a constant reminder of the harm caused to your people?"

"We don't think of it like that," she corrects him gently. "To us they are a reminder of what we have gained not what we have lost.

"Consider this: Trees can live for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Uther Pendragon sought to make magic disappear, to brand it as a malignant force rather than simply a part of life. And yet it surrounds us here, not just present but thriving. During those long dark years we saw these trees as a sign of hope. For no man is eternal. We knew one day the empire he built would fall. One day there will come a world that does not even remember his name, and yet still these trees will live on. I can think of a no more perfect justice.

"Don't you see? We don't have to fight, don't have to burn the Pendragon's kingdom to get revenge on any wrongs they may have done us. We just have to live."

I almost named the druid woman Sabrina due to this note I found on that name: Latinized form of Habren, the original Welsh name of the River Severn. According to Geoffrey of Monmouth, Sabrina was the name of a princess who was drowned in the Severn. Supposedly the river was named for her, but it is more likely that her name was actually derived from that of the river, which is of unknown meaning.

I liked Sabella better, but I had to share the reference anyway