Alaia Skyhawk: Yes I'm deliberately skimming over a lot of intermediate details of Aelle's conquest of Kent, but it's because Durwin is a disposable character and has no real contribution to the plot other than getting his butt handed to him. There's nothing to gain from dragging out the invasion of Kent to more than one 'episode'.

Because it means that next chapter we get back to Merlin, Arthur, and Kaenas :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Music:

~(-)~

Chapter 21: Light in the Dark ~Part 3~

Had it not been happening before their eyes, they would have been the first not to believe it. Had someone told them the threat that would outmanoeuvre them so easily was approaching their gates, they would have laughed. Who could have known that within two weeks of attacks being launched along their coast, an inland force would cut them off from behind?

King Durwin and his inner council stood around the table, gazing out over the large map and the wooden markers that represented their own forces and the known positions of the invaders.

Three quarters of Kent's army had already been dispatched along the coast in an attempt to stem the influx of Saxons being shipped in. But just two days later all contact with them had been cut off by the enemy. The single messenger that had tried to get through but survived to return, telling of enemy patrols forming a tight perimeter. No sooner than that discovery was made, than the unexpected siege had begun. But even more disturbing was the limited bit of news that did manage to make its way in ahead of that force's arrival.

A single desperate and exhausted soldier, who had been driven towards the capital by three Saxon's on horseback. They'd left him unharmed, but had not allowed him to rest except when he'd been physically unable to continue. They had touted him through a whole swathe of conquered land so that he could speak of what he'd seen and who the enemy's leader was.

A man called Aelle was the instigator of this attack, but his success was not the disturbing fact... What was unsettling was that he had burned or pillaged nothing, and that he had kept civilian casualties to only those warriors who had fought back. He'd even paid widows for their lost loved ones, and as such not a shred of rebellion had risen up against him in the conquered areas.

The common people had been given no reason to resent him, and in many places had begun actively and voluntarily giving supplies to his men. And to make things worse, barely an hour before this meeting another exhausted 'messenger' had been driven to the capital from the southern coast with the same news.

'Kent' as was ruled by King Durwin, was now an island in the middle of the 'Kent' that had seemingly handed itself over to the rule of Aelle.

King Durwin gritted his teeth and thumped a fist down onto the map in rage.

"This cannot end like this! What men do we still have in the surrounding garrisons?"

The commander of the Knights of Kent averted his gaze, and by the similar uncomfortable shuffling and doubtful expressions worn by the rest of those in the room, they all knew the answer was bad.

"Of our total armed forces of six thousand, four thousand were stationed at locations across the realm to provide local defence and law-enforcement. Of the remaining two thousand stationed at the garrisons around the castle, only some four-hundred and fifty remain in reserve. The rest were sent to the coast, as per your orders. Even if we ran at a watch-rota of two, twelve hours per watch, we do not have enough men to hold the walls against a siege... They would be exhausted before even three days had passed, and be overrun."

Another of the knights stepped forward.

"There is also the matter of the enemy's defences... Sire, in our few testing forays against them, we've been able to confirm with certainly that the enemy's armour is strengthened by magic." His expression became helpless. "Our arrows simply deflected aside, Sire, even when the aim was right at the men's hearts. The enemy laughed at us, My Lord. At our inability to harm them."

If King Durwin's fury were high before, then it was now overflowing. He drew his dagger and stabbed it into the area of the map where the enemy's camp lay.

"Then we strike at the heart of them. A man cannot be protected by his armour at all times, and is more likely to be vulnerable in the heart of his own forces... If we wish to kill this snake before it strikes, we must cut off its head."

~(-)~

The sun was setting as they stood there, gazing out over the valley and the city at its heart. As was tradition in most realms, the capital shared the same name as the kingdom. The City of Kent had strong walls to shield its prosperous interior, and the castle that dominated the hill above it was equally impressive. Those walls bristled with men, but Aelle already knew it was a feeble bluff.

He snorted in derision, and remarked to his son beside him.

"They are like an elderly and toothless dog, barking in an effort to seem threatening. That's over half of their remaining men stationed on those walls."

Cissa nodded, even as his gaze moved to the catapults that were being assembled in their camp below.

"We will be ready to launch our attack at dawn. The siegemasters are already at work calculating the range to make best use of our limited shots. Morgana has made it clear she won't prepare any more of them; now or for any future conquests. She only did it this time, to reduce casualties among those inside the city."

Aelle snorted again.

"The witch can do as she pleases. This strategy of mercy will be useless for any other realm we take, and killing helpless men does not prove our strength. Any future victories, we must utterly crush our opponents as they fight back. Only that will break their will to rebel after they are conquered."

He glanced again at Cissa and patted him on the shoulder. A rare show of approval that was more discomforting for his son than something to receive with pride.

"This will be your first big victory. See this as the honour it is, that I would have you at my side for this and not your brothers."

Cissa's response was firm, but also filled with bland acceptance. A tone his father would accept for this remark.

"I am only here because you did not think me capable of the same feats as my brothers have achieved along the coast."

Aelle smirked.

"And they learnt from the best... From me. Now it's your chance to learn."

Cissa remained solemn.

"As you say, Father."

The two of them returned to the camp, beyond the edge of which Morgana had pitched her tent.

Scrying the area, she'd eavesdropped on their conversation. Even now, with the total conquest of Kent just a day from succeeding, she still felt some trepidation for following this path. Even knowing the lives that her actions would save tomorrow, didn't make this any easier to face.

She sighed, her words quiet.

"I hope I've made the right choice, Aithusa, because there's no going back now. I know Aelle is determined to keep me a secret, to maintain the advantage of his enemies not knowing who his sorcerer is, but word may still escape. If that happens, Arthur and Merlin will know that I'm helping him."

The white dragon murmured softly in reply.

"You knew you risked their condemnation when you chose this path. Have you had other visions of his future, since that day you made the choice?"

Morgana looked to the sky above, which had darkened enough for the first glimmers of starlight to be visible.

"Many different ones, showing many different possibly paths, but all leading to the same destined end. So many that I'm certain most were disjointed dreams rather than visions of the future. My own fears and hopes taking the things I've Seen, and acting them out in ways that I either yearn for or dread."

Aithusa nuzzled Morgana gently in reassurance.

"You've seen your own future?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not." She turned to look at her companion, her expression uncertain and fragile. "I can no longer tell what is real and what is not when it concerns me. I've have seen myself welcomed and condemned in Camelot in equal measure. I've seen myself living in the citadel once more, in fine gowns, and I've seen myself executed wearing rags in its courtyard. I've seen myself living on the Isle of the Blessed as a member of Merlin's Order of Forthweard, and I've seen myself locked away to rot in the dark and damp of a dungeon. What is dream or nightmare, real or fiction, I can't say."

A large white wing swept over her, as if to shield her from the world, and Aithusa spoke with determination.

"You will never be locked away in darkness, not so long as I am there to vouch for the trueness of your heart. And so long as I speak in your favour, Merlin will not let you be condemned either."

There was a glitter of tears in Morgana's eyes now.

"Do you really think so?"

Aithusa nodded.

"I know it." She now indicated the crystal Morgana held. "So how goes events at the camp? Is all well for tomorrow?"

Morgana gazed into the crystal once more, sending her will outwards to call both sights and sounds to its heart. She remained unmoving for several moments, before she sighed and rose to her feet.

"It seems King Durwin has sent assassins. They're waiting just outside the camp as we speak. No doubt they'll strike once only the watchmen are still awake."

"Will you warn Aelle?"

Morgana added wood to her camp-fire and then lay down inside her tent, utterly unconcerned.

"It is not his fate to die at the hands of assassins. He's in no danger."

Aithusa sighed at that and curled up to settle into her own slumber, the two of them giving no concern to what lay beyond their own small camp. Yet it was some hours later, when her fire had died down to embers, that Morgana began to twitch in her sleep.

After a few moments jolted awake, suppressing a gasp that would have woken the dragon. A single image playing over and over before her mind's eye. It sent her scrambling out of her tent, her passage muffled by a hastily-whispered spell. She raced towards the main camp, slipping by the watchmen like a shadow. Everything in her urging her onwards in panic.

She neared the area around Aelle's tent just as the alarm was raised, hearing the clash of swords ahead of her as she ran onwards towards it. Cissa was long-used to attempts on his father's life, and as such was a light-sleeper. He'd heard them coming, woken up, and launched an attack on them from behind.

But he was severely outnumbered, and the nearby guards were all several precious seconds away.

Aelle burst roaring out of his tent, sword in hand, and cut down one of the dozen would-be assassins. His back left vulnerable to the one who came at him from behind. But Cissa was there to intercept it, barely in time, but managing to stall the assassin long enough for Aelle to turn and run the man through.

It was during that moment, as Cissa's blade was tangled with that of the collapsing assassin and his father lunged away to attack elsewhere, that another attacker darted forward to plunge a dagger into the younger man's back. Yet before it could hit home, the assassin was violently slammed aside by an invisible force.

He crunched into the adjacent tree, his fate unnoticed by Aelle or the guards. They were too busy dealing with the other remaining assassins to notice the unsettling end one of them had received.

Only Cissa noticed, in that startled instant he'd become aware of the threat behind him. He'd barely begun to turn and face his foe when the man had cried out and been pushed aside, and that was when he's spotted the wide-eyed Morgana stood in the shadows close by with her hand outstretched.

She was breathing heavily, and her expression now changed to relief. Yet as soon as Aelle finished off the last assassin and started to turn round, she darted away and vanished into the shadows.

Cissa had no chance to pursue her, not when his father would be demanding the entire camp be searched and for the watchmen to be flogged for incompetence. Instead doubts circled in his mind, as to whether or not it were the watchmen responsible for allowing the assassins to slip by into the camp. Had Roer been correct in saying Morgana had her own secret agenda? If so, what was it?

The following dawn came clear, without any fog that might have obscured the aiming of the catapults. On the walls of the city, Durwin's men stood ready to defend against the expected rocks and pots of boiling pitch with attached burning rags to set their contents alight on impact.

But that's wasn't what came at them.

Instead of rocks and pitch, clusters of head-sized sacks filled powder rained down on the walls, city, and castle. They burst on impact, sending up plumes of dust that spread everywhere. Inside the city and the castle, as more and more of the bags rained down, wind drew the powder inside every building. People coughed and spluttered, racing to open windows in a panicked attempt to find fresh air, but only succeeded in turning taller buildings into chimneys that drew even more of the dust inside.

Upwind of the city, Aelle and his men ceased fire as soon as their 'ammunition' ran out. Then, after waiting an hour for the wind to clear the airborne dust out of the city, they proceeded unmolested to the gates.

It took little work to break them open, what with no one attempting to slow or stop them, and once inside his forces started to pick their way through streets littered with sleeping people.

Aelle would never know what emotional cost there had been for Morgana, when she'd offered to prepare an enchanted drug to leave the people of the city temporarily helpless. He'd never know how the sight of those sleeping people, viewed through her crystal back at the camp, tore at her heart. Because a similar event had marked the day long ago when she had plunged into darkness and hate.

Aelle's forces gathered up the men on the walls, divested them of weapons and armour, and then delivered them to the castle courtyard tried-up. Commoners were carefully propped up unharmed against the walls of their homes and businesses, and inside the castle the servants were moved into side-rooms out of the way.

No one was awake to see Aelle, his son, and their escort proceed through the castle until they found the room where the War Council had being held. No one was awake to see all but one of those leaders be tied up... No one was awake to see Aelle approach the last man, their king, and draw his sword.

When the drug wore off a mere three hours after it had been rained down upon the city, its people woke to the eerie sight of the Saxon invaders guarding their walls and patrolling their streets. The captured soldiers in the courtyard woke to similar shock, although far more graphic, for the corpse of King Durwin had been laid out on a hastily-built pyre along with his two sons. His councillors had also been brought down to the courtyard and secured off to one side, along with every other noble that had been resident within the castle. All of them were left to take in that sight and its implications, until enough time had passed that everyone in the city would be fully awake.

It was at that time that Aelle sent a rather frightened servant off with the order for a funeral bell-toll. Once it started, he stepped out into the courtyard for one final 'act'. The people of Kent would see their conqueror give their former King a respectful funeral. That he would praise Durwin as being a fair man but a weak leader, and promise that as their new King he would not repeat that folly.

He would grant them the right to continue their lives and roles unchanged, on the condition they swore fealty to him as their King. Those that refused would lamentably be punished so as to ensure the security of the realm, but no more so than was required by Kent's existing laws.

In the face of such seeming fairness, and such an overwhelming victory, the will of the defenders crumpled. What point would there be in fighting back, when the king and his heirs you would have fought for were already dead? Only his daughter had been spared, and even as her father and brothers burned upon the funeral pyre, their killer announced that she would be his bride.

~(-)~

In the two days following Aelle's conquering of the realm, Morgana moved her camp to a clearing some distance from the city walls. The location was by the exit of one of the city's secret escape tunnels, allowing Aelle's men to ferry materials to her and collect any finished work without her presence being discovered by the people of the city. It also meant she could keep away from the results of her assistance.

A kingdom conquered and a princess subjugated. Any spirit or will for rebellion that Princess Fraeline had, would be broken within a month by a man like Aelle. Had his invasion come later as it would have without magical help, there was every chance Fraeline would have already been married and living happily in some other kingdom. Morgana had cost her that possible future.

She was still mulling over that guilt when Cissa at last sought her out. The young man emerging from the nearby tunnel to approach her with narrowed eyes and suspicion.

"Those assassins entered the camp rather easily, don't you think? A bit too easily, Morgana."

Morgana stiffened at those words, and glanced up from her work to glare at him.

"I expected better of you, Cissa. You know as well as I do, that half your father's army are mercenaries that would rather get drunk with the money he's paying them than pay attention on what he's paying them for. King Durwin might have been a strategic imbecile, but that doesn't mean his forces were bad. Every kingdom has men trained for infiltration. It's standard practice when you're under siege, to attempt to kill the enemy leaders or to taint and destroy their supplies."

Cissa glared down at her.

"Then why were you there that night, watching?! Those men almost killed my father!"

Morgana clenched her fists in indignation.

"And I have nothing to gain and a great deal to lose if he dies!"

"Then why protect me, but do nothing when he was threatened?!"

Morgana jolted at that, her expression conflicted and hurt. She looked away from him, her voice quiet.

"I'm a Seer, remember? I knew they wouldn't succeed, because his fate is to die in conflict with my brother. He has yet to challenge Arthur, which means at present your father's life is in no real danger."

Cissa's rage had also started to ebb, his words equally muted.

"That still doesn't answer why you protected me. If my father was in no danger, why were you there?"

"Because you were in danger." She glanced at him now, her expression still hurt. "I was woken by a vision that night. I Saw that you would die in that attack on your father, and I couldn't let it happen. So I rushed there... to save you." Her lip trembled a bit, and she averted tear-rimmed eyes. "Other than Aithusa, you're the only person here that I can trust. I couldn't bear the thought of losing a friend."

At those words the last of the anger fled from him, and without thought Cissa knelt down at her side and pulled her into a hug. Instead all he felt was remorse for accusing her, and gratitude for what she'd done.

"Thank you, and I'm sorry for not trusting you. If there's anything you ever need of me, just ask."

He let go and returned to his feet, Morgana smiling at him until she remembered what she'd been doing. She held up the bangle she'd been working on, and explained.

"There is something you can do for me. I brought this misery on Princess Fraeline, and there's nothing I can do to undo it, but I can make this easier for her." She sighed. "This won't make her forget, but it will blur the pain of her loss and ease the nightmare she enters as your father's wife. So long as she wears this, he will never be tempted to touch her."

Cissa regarded the silver bangle with surprise, then nodded solemnly.

"The wedding and coronation take place tomorrow. If you have it ready by then, I'll see that she gets it tonight and that she knows what it does."

Morgana gestured for him to sit, and resumed work on the bangle.

"If you don't mind waiting, it won't take me long to finish."

The two of them sat in companionable silence, until the time came that Cissa left with the bangle hidden inside his jacket.

Morgana watched him go, feeling at least a little of her burden of guilt leave with him. Princess Fraeline was only seventeen, and Aelle's destined end would come within a decade. There was every chance she could remarry and have a family once he was gone, and King Durwin's line would once again preside over this realm.

It was a small victory, but a victory none the less.

Morgana smiled to herself, resolving to continue helping when and where she could. And to that cause she added the last details to a message, before calling Hordwynn from his roost up above and securing the rolled-up paper to his leg.

"Fly straight and true, my little treasure. By the time Aelle faces his true opponent, Arthur will already know exactly what he's up against."

With a flick of her wrist Morgana launched Hordwynn into the air, and watched him fly off carrying hope with him.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, I'm having lots of fun with Nice!Morgana, and also by messing with Cissa's head. I can't make things too easy for him, can I? :)