Morgan braced herself over her scrying basin, teeth clenched. The undead poured out of Camelot like vomit; Morgause draped herself on Arthur's throne, guards at her back, slaves at her feet, jewels crusted through her hair and on her lips.

"Go to Cladborough, Captain, and bring me my nephew and his pet."

Vermin. Morgan's fingernails made half-moons in the wood of the table. She slapped the water to change the scene. Dark - drapes still drawn - just candlelight and a fire. The lord still lolled in his bed, dark ecstasy on his face as he surveyed his cowering bedslaves. Morgan ignored him, searching the room for identifying marks. Her head ached with the strain of holding an unfamiliar place in her view. Something moved, sharp, sudden, and her eyes drifted back to the shadowed bed where the lord took his pleasure. The slave he held struggled, begged, submitted, out of sheer hopelessness and terror-

Morgan slung the bowl across the room with a scream, her magic swirling in her veins. The water spilled across the floor as the bowl landed, quivering on its base with a metallic rattle. Arthur would fight for honor, not revenge, but sometimes, vengeance must be taken. She would draw the spells for this herself. She would sing under the linden tree on a half-moon night and write the names of her enemies in stone and iron and their own blood.

But one must not light her casting fire too soon. Morgan took a deep breath. Gawain and Arthur must ride today, like it or not. She would manage the contingent from Camelot.

She strode through the halls and shoved Arthur's door open. He sprang to his feet, sword half drawn, Merlin a second behind him with a shielding spell flung before his master. Dinadan yelped and sprawled backwards in surprise.

"Morgana!" Arthur slumped back into his chair. "What's gotten into you?"

Morgan shut the door and gave Merlin a smile before turning to her brother. The slave boy blushed furiously and hung his head, and her magic tugged towards him. She let it flutter curiously and put her hands on her hips.

"You must leave today."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"Morgause has dispatched a contingent to visit Cladborough. If you are gone, we won't have to hide you."

"We?"

"I will remain to guard the castle." Arthur started to protest, and she held up a finger. "Not by force of arms, Arthur. Morgause must ignore us, not enter a pitched battle that would destroy all your allies before you even had hope of victory."

Arthur stood. "You won't be safe here."

"Morgause will not begrudge me a half-ruined castle. She will begrudge me my brother and her son. You must go."

"Where do you suggest?" Arthur leaned back against the table, half teasing, half curious.

"On your quest, brother! Where else?"

"I haven't held my vigil-"

Morgan waved her hand. "The vigil is a formality. You have your quest."

"My companions-"

"Take your boys. And Gawain and Terence. And Isobel." She stuck her finger in Arthur's face when he started to protest. "The last thing a young enchantress needs is Morgause's talons on her. Make for Castle Avalon; you'll find help there."

A smile tugged at the corners of Arthur's lips as he tried to glare at her. "I might remind you, sister; I am technically king."

"You can always ignore my advice and die, though I hardly think you that stupid." She turned her attention to Merlin. "Go on and start packing; he will decide to go eventually. Say goodbye to me before you ride, brother." She kissed Arthur's cheek and left him gaping behind her. Gawain next, or Ector?

She found the lord of Cladborough watching his son spar with Gawain.

"Princess." He dipped his head as she approached.

"Morgause has dispatched a contingent to search Cladborough for Arthur."

Ector's lips thinned. "When did they leave?"

"She commanded it less than an hour ago; I doubt they have left Camelot yet." She stood tall at the knight's side. "I believe you would agree with me that attempting to hold the castle against her would be futile."

"And if we wish to protect our young king?"

"Arthur is leaving on his quest as soon as he can pack. I am sending Gawain with him."

Ector lifted his eyebrows. "With his brothers?"

"I can disguise two small boys. They would hinder the quest. But for what else I intend, I will need your help."

"I will assist you as I am able, my lady."

Merlin hauled himself into the saddle, leaning over to pet the horse's neck. She side-stepped with the shift in his knees, and he froze.

"You're her partner, Merlin, not baggage." Terence grinned at him. "Prince Arthur didn't teach you to ride?"

"Only with him."

The squire leaned out of his saddle to stroke Merlin's horse, muttering to her in a language Merlin did not understand. "She'll stay with us." The horse shook herself, and Merlin tightened his knees and his grip on the reins.

Lady Morgan strode over to their small party, decked in court finery and trailed by two pages Merlin did not recognize.

"The contingent from Morgause will be here sometime tomorrow." She took Arthur's horse by the reins and rubbed foreheads with it. "Carry him safe, you."

The horse whickered.

"You're certain you'll be safe?" Arthur asked.

"Kai will be with me. Ector and his manservant are in the dungeon, already putting on a good show of languishing - they've swords and a spare set of keys, in case."

"And my brothers?" Gawain demanded.

"Do you recognize them?" Morgan smiled at her pageboys, and Gawain's eyes widened.

Terence surveyed the two. "You cast a good glamour."

"Does it work on your pimples, cuz?"

Morgan slapped Gawain's leg and turned to Isobel. "Get training in Avalon, if you can; but be careful who you take it from."

"My father was alive last I saw him…" Isobel trailed off.

"I will ask if I can do so without raising suspicion. But do not hope. Take care, little sister."

Merlin startled when Lady Morgan put her hand on his knee, and his horse picked up its feet until she caught its reins. "Merlin. You are a warlock, and there is fire in your blood. Don't act like a whipped dog." She squeezed his knee and pulled a ring from her finger. "There's a glamour in this that makes the weak-minded or unobservant see you as you want them to. It did not fool you for a moment, though I think you sensed its power when we met. Take it."

"I-" Merlin felt the power even now; it was too rich a gift.

"I command you. You know it is dangerous to be a slave." She put the ring on his finger, and Merlin did not stop her. A quiver passed through him, and the green stone winked in the sunlight.

"Thank you, Princess."

"I do not need to ask you to keep my brother safe, but look to yourself too when you must."

"I will." He felt her touch on his knee long after she took her hand away.

They rode north, keeping to the road among the thick woods. Arthur pushed them hard and did not make camp until full dark, several leagues from Cladborough. A new-built stone circle shielded them from the howling Dorocha, and Terence built a casting fire and drew on Merlin's power to cast spells to ward them from unfriendly eyes and keep the horses calm.

Gawain and Terence led them the next morning as clouds rolled out of the west. Merlin saw a glimpse of the sea from the top of a bare hill, and then they plunged into broken gulches full of dripping, moss-covered rocks. The misting rain turned to thick fog at midday, blotting out the sun, and odd shadows passed over them, as if from wheeling birds.

"How close?" Gawain called to his squire, his voice echoing around them.

"Close and far," Terence replied. He gave Arthur an apologetic smile. "We're headed in the right direction, but I don't know when we will pass between the worlds. The gateways aren't fixed, and won't always let you find them."

Isobel shifted her cloak closer around her shoulders. "How can you find anything in this fog?"

"In Faerie, you find by looking." Gawain looked around at the thick gray mist. "The fog doesn't matter."

Their gorge widened out a little, and they paused to water the horses and fill their waterskins at a pool fed by a narrow waterfall. Something moved in the shadows behind the falls, and Merlin saw a woman, dark-haired, with white skirts tinged blue that blended with the frothing water and a belt green as the ferns surrounding the pool. He was knee deep in the pool before he blinked again and saw only a tall rock wreathed in moss.

"Merlin!" His master called, and Merlin turned around, cold and confused.

"What are you doing?"

"There was…" He looked again and saw only the rock. The water laughed at him. Master watched him from the bank, hood thrown back, worry drawing his brows together. "…a lady?" Merlin felt idiotic and started to slosh back to the bank.

"There's only a rock." His master grabbed his hand and helped him out.

"Were you frightened of her?" Terence asked earnestly.

"No."

Gawain glared at the rock, then Merlin. "Be honest: did you jump in there because you wanted to make love to her, or she to you?"

The cold fled as Merlin blushed hot and ashamed at the thought. "No!"

"You're certain."

"Yes!"

Gawain and Terence turned from their fierce contemplation of the rock.

"You think something is there?" Arthur asked.

Terence shrugged. "We're on the edge of Faerie."

"Are we safe?"

"No. But not threatened, Sire."

They turned back to the horses and saw Isobel, staring at the waterfall, as still as a woman carved of stone.

"My lady?" Arthur whispered.

She turned her head to look at Merlin, eyes glazed with wonder and fear. "She called me sister."

They walked their horses down the stream, drenched in rain and fog. Merlin felt more than saw the cliffs beside them, revealed only when a moss covered outcropping hung out in their path. He saw the woman twice more, her face staring at him from the water, hair spilling across the rocks, before it was his own face, the reflection framed by algae that waved in the current.

The air grew darker - or the fog thicker - and the horses walked belly-deep in the water, picking their slow way along the current. Terence was a hunched outline at the front of the group, pushing on as the wind picked up, shoving Merlin's hood from over his face and ruffling his wet hair. Fog blew off the water's surface in tendrils. Merlin twisted in his saddle and saw nothing but open water all around them, roughened by the wind.

"Terence!" Arthur yelled. "What in hell-"

Merlin saw the squire's face in the first flicker of lightning. "We're close, Sire!"

"We're in a damn lake!"

"You can only cross in water!"

Merlin felt the wave but never saw it, only the purple flash of lightning through the surging water and the bubbles the streamed from his mouth and clothes. Merlin followed them up, clawing for the surface. The noise of the storm broke as his ears cleared, and he got a gasp of air, a glimpse of familiar shadows reaching down for him, before the waves folded him under again.

He struggled in a tossing void, clothes dragging him down, water forcing him up only to slap him under again. Merlin lost track of the bubbles, his small path to the air above, and thrashed. Something hit his back, and he surfaced again into a roaring world under a lighting-cut sky. The water threw him forward, and he hit a rocky shore belly first. The current drug him back a moment, then slung him up the beach again like so much driftwood.

Rain spattered down as Merlin lay among the water-polished logs, aching. Thunder still grumbled somewhere far off, but the sky was lighter, with a few edges of blue peeking through the deep clouds. The bird chatter sounded like early morning. Merlin pushed himself up to survey a barren lake-shore for as far as he could see. No master. No companions or horses. Only Merlin, for the first time he could ever remember, completely alone.

A/N

What happened? Well, college happened. And a whole lot of other life. Also, Merlin and Arthur weren't too keen to leave Cladborough (thanks for helping get the ball rolling, Morgan). You have stuck around, and I thank you for that.