Morgan le Fay always had her ear to the ground. Not literally of course, that would be dirty, but she had her own network of spies in Avalon that kept her abreast of the rumour mill. And there was a lot in the mill. It seemed like every other week someone was being challenged to a duel to the death or accusing a longtime friend of betrayal. And that was the general populace. The members of the Unseelie Court were worse. She should know, she was one of them. She had fought tooth and nail to claim the throne and she wasn't about to let some low level backstabber knock her off. The loyalty they all swore meant nothing. She could not turn her back for one minute.

Which is where rumors came in handy. She had ample warning time to collect the necessary blackmail and stave off disasters. It had served her well in the past, but this was one rumor that might be best dealt with directly. The rumour that Merlin was plotting to overthrow her throne.

She was surprised at first. Merlin had always struck her as someone who would belong in the Seelie Court. After all, he kept talking about fair rules and being kind to others. But maybe the Enchanter was never going to give up his seat of power. He didn't have to fight as hard. His people were loyal. No matter. She had more power on the ground. And she did not want to lose that power.

Maybe she was worrying too much. Her position should be safe for a while. Merlin was too busy pandering to that mortal prince to properly devote time to the intricacies of court.

But as the spring grew into summer, she felt the dread growing once more. A message was sweeping across the mortal realm and even into Avalon. Emrys was publicly declaring his support for and protection of Arthur Pendragon as the Once and Future King.

Many in the Shadow Court were interpreting this to mean that Merlin was ready to lead them. He was embracing his role as Emrys, the leader of the magical community. Sure the legends were varied, but they all agreed that he was powerful. Powerful enough to take her throne? She and Merlin were tentative allies at best. Maybe it was a sign that he was ready to take control of the Shadow Court. Maybe he wanted to move things along, try a different angle to force magic back out of hiding. With command of half of Avalon, he could have that power. Perhaps this message, this earworm, was his declaration of intent. Outright challenges weren't the usual method after all. Well, there was only one way to ensure her reign continued. Walking over to her scrying mirror, she asked it to locate Merlin. He was in the servant's bathing quarters, washing himself off after being in the stables judging by the mess. Perfect.

She closed her eyes and leapt, feeling the squeeze of direct travel across many leagues trying to pull her apart. "So, is Emrys's staff as big as the legends say?"

Merlin nearly leapt out of his skin. He dropped the bucket of water and snatched the nearest towel to cover himself. He glared at her, gold sparking in his eyes. "I've half a mind to hex you for that," he growled.

Morgan leant against the opposite wall and folded her arms. She knew he was mostly joking, though in that moment, she could see his future as a leader to be wary of. "So trying to oust me from my seat of power is not enough? You wish to hex me as well?"

Merlin frowned at her before stepping fully out of the shallow bath. He must have just been rinsing an extra time. "Oust you?" He walked behind the dressing screen.

"Yes, don't deny it, you want my position as the head of the Unseelie."

Merlin leaned to the side to stare at her, eyebrows raised. "The Unseelies? Those are the ones who fight all the time, right? Why would I want to lead them?" He finished getting dressed. "That sounds like a disaster."

Morgan kept her face blank. He certainly wasn't familiar with the Court. Or maybe he was intimately familiar. There was a lot of squabbling. "Maybe you want the power. You would be able to bring about the golden age without waiting around for Arthur to mature."

Fully dressed, Merlin hung his magically dry towel on the rack and confronted her. He stood opposite her and rested one bare foot on the wall behind him, still standing straight despite the relaxed pose. "I don't know where you got the idea that I want more power, but you're mistaken." He shook his head and a breath of a laugh escaped him. "I can barely juggle trying to serve both Arthur and the Steward while still receiving lessons from the druids. Not to mention the occasional lessons from both Corinakus and William." He threw his hands up. "I hardly have time to sleep! I'm not about to try to run a court on top of that. Arthur already makes me attend the council sessions here. I don't want to see any more of that than I have to." His arms hung relaxed at his side, just the hint of a threat in his posture.

Morgan watched his face for any hint of trickery. But he did seem honestly repulsed by the idea of leading the Court. She shouldn't have let herself become so worried by the rumours. The Court plotted all the time; if every one of their plots was fruitful, there would be a new leader every month.

Which meant one thing. Her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. She looked away from his fierce eyes, took a deep breath, then met them once more.

"I need your help."

He is standing in front of a watch tower. It's sharp sides are imposing against the dark red sky. Clouds roll in, thunder rumbles, and a bolt of lightning strikes the tower. In the flash of light the tower bursts apart, stone flying apart and shattering into dust. When the light fades, he sees that the grand tower is now little more than ruins. The staircase is exposed at the top and there is no roof. The glass in the windows is nowhere to be seen.

In front of the tower, a man now stands. For a second, they make eye contact. He is tall, a warrior born and bred. He has a silver armband. The warrior fights off enemies unseen, a golden spear in his hands. Every thrust is echoed by thunder. As he slams the butt of the spear into the ground, the earth trembles.

The man looks back at him and then throws the spear at the tower.

The man vanishes. The spear soars through the walls.

He woke up.

Merlin caught Arthur off guard when he asked if they would be going on a trip that day.

"Yeah," he frowned. "How did you know?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged. "Just a funny feeling. I already told the kitchens to get food ready." He poured Arthur some water and moved on to grabbing clothes.

"Good." Arthur was silent as he slowly got out of bed and walked behind the dressing screen. "I had a strange dream last night. Like a holy quest being given." He proceeded to tell Merlin about the strange dream he had last night.

Merlin nodded along absently. He knew what the dream was; he had sent it to Arthur. Though it was good to know it had worked. Apparently Arthur's own mind had taken control of it at some point though. He hadn't imagined a huge battle.

"Do you know what this spear might be?" Arthur asked when he was through explaining. "Or who the warrior was who wielded it?"

Merlin had been waiting for this. "It sounds like the spear of Dnangerfield, the feared warrior of the river tribes in the north."

Arthur motioned with his fork for Merlin to continue. Merlin smirked into the blankets as he made the bed.

"His people were a wild type, surrounded by other wild types. It was Dnangerfield who forged some of the first trade routes of the far north, creating, if not peace, a season of truce for the tribes. A safety for merchants to benefit both groups.

"Not every tribe was as open to the idea of trade and he used his great spear to bring them into submission." He finished making the bed and joined Arthur at the table.

"What's the spear called?" Arthur asked. "Surely a weapon like that has a name."

"Rhongomiant." The name rolled off of Merlin's tongue but tripped off of Arthur's. "No. It's Rhon-go-mi-ant," Merlin said slowly.

Arthur tried again, but still, it was jumbled. "I'll call it Ron."

Merlin's hand stilled, then set the water pitcher back down. "Just as long as you don't use that nickname where they spear can hear you," he warned, grabbing a roll. It was so easy to lead Arthur on, he almost felt bad.

"Spears don't have ears."

There was a spear of legend, yes, but its name was Justice. Much easier to say. And Dnagerfield was a real warrior, he had to keep that the same just in case Arthur had learned about past heroes of Albion.

"No, but this is a mystical spear from the legends. Some variations on the legend do suggest that Dnagerfield's spirit resides within the spear, waiting for a worthy warrior to lift it once more. Others say there is no spirit inside it, but it has been blessed by so many powerful wizards over the ages that it's nearly sentient. Regardless of which is correct, I wouldn't risk using anything but its proper name."

Every other detail was just Merlin stringing Arthur along to get him to decide to go on a quest. It was much easier to convince Arthur to leave the city than to travel to the portal himself and have to make excuses to Arthur. Besides, it was summer anyway and a good time for a trip.

"How do you know so much about this legend?" Arthur asked. "I've never heard of it."

"I read a book." At Arthur's exasperated look, he continued. "It probably wasn't part of your education. I'm sure your tutors focused on topics that would be immediately useful to you as a future king of Camelot. My reading has not been similarly limited."

Arthur scowled. "And do you know what tower this might be, since you are so well read?"

"As a matter of fact I do. I can get you a map within the hour."

Arthur leaned back and took another bite of his apple. "Alright. I'll talk to my father. I'm sure he'll approve of this quest. You find me that map and prepare the horses and gather supplies."

"Just the two of us?" Merlin asked. "The prince going out to prove himself?" he added for extra measure.

Arthur nodded. "Yes. That's how I'll present it to my father. You're only coming to do the cooking." Merlin met his eyes and they both smiled. It was a lie they had sold many times to the king.

"Naturally." Merlin stood to give an exaggerated bow. "After all, there's no way a servant could possibly be good at finding a spear in a dusty castle."

Arthur grinned and Merlin left with the laundry. Soon enough they were on the road to the watchtower, the spear, and the portal to Avalon.

They rode south at a steady pace, not feeling particularly rushed in the heat. They made it past the surrounding villages and then stuck close to the river as it carved through the forest of Balor. It kept them on track when they reached the thick forest and had to dismount and lead their horses along the river bank. They paused for food in the high heat of noon. Even the trees couldn't stop the oppressive humidity still lingering from the storms two days ago.

They continued to ride through to sunset before Arthur spotted a large clearing and a small break in the trees not far away and decided to stop there for the night. They could rest in the small clearing, knowing that most travellers would head to the other one and completely miss them. Together, they took care of the horses and set up camp. Volunteering for first watch, Merlin waited until Arthur was asleep and then called out to Kilgharrah. He had felt the dragon's presence earlier and remembered they hadn't spoken in nearly a year.

The adjacent clearing was just large enough for Kilgharrah to land. "Hello, young warlock," he greeted as always.

"Hello, old dragon," Merlin teased in response.

"You are off to Avalon then," he said. "It is good that you learn about your destined position even if you will not assume it yet."

Merlin frowned. He was under the impression that he was just going to help Morgan put some rumors to rest and maybe get a tour of this fabled land. "Destined position?" Merlin asked.

Kilgharrah nodded his large head slowly. "Lady Morgan is right to fear you usurping her throne. Her position will one day be yours."

Great. Just another thing the dragon was convinced he was destined for. He really wanted to have a talk with Destiny and teach it to delegate better. "You've never mentioned this before."

"You have many years to grow into your full potential. Your destiny with Arthur was of more immediate importance. You would find out about this when the time was right."

Merlin rolled his eyes. Someday when he met the other dragons, he hoped to learn how much of this habitual secret keeping was just Kilgharrah and how much was the whole species. Sure, he kept secrets as well, but he didn't casually reveal life altering ones as if discussing the weather over a glass of ale. "And since that time has come, can you tell me more about Avalon?" Merlin asked. "There's not much about it in any of the library books. Or at least not much beyond speculation."

"Well, you better get comfortable then. There is much to tell you."

Merlin's face lit up. He hadn't actually expected Kilgharrah to tell him anything. Usually he just said it would be up to Merlin to discover something for himself and then flew off. Maybe the crotchety old lizard had missed Merlin as much as he had been missed by Merlin.

Kilgharrah settled down, laying on the grass and filling the clearing. Merlin settled against his shoulder where he could see Kilgharrah's head and Arthur sleeping.

"You should know, I have not been to Avalon myself, but the dragons older than myself used to travel between the world often, back when there were more dragonlords than dragons," Kilgharrah began. "They told us stories that I can pass on to you.

"Avalon is the land of immortals and those favoured by the Goddess. Time does not fly straight like it does here. You may witness someone slain only to find them hale a week later, fully aware of their previous death. There, everything is bursting with life." Kilgharrah turned one large eye to Merlin. "Even more than it is here. They say even the air carries you in flight. Though for all its beauty, there is still danger. You must be careful how you speak when you are there. The beings of Avalon have long memories and they will twist your words if you do not guard your tongue. Make no promises and swear no oath."

"I won't," he promised. Then a thought occurred to him. "Do they only speak the Old Language there?"

"Not exclusively, but that is the language of the Courts. It is why they are so skilled with their words."

At Merlin's prompting, Kilgharrah went on to explain what he knew of the Courts and some of the different beings that lived there. But Merlin was exhausted after a long day in the sun and soon Kilgharrah had to nudge him back awake and send him to wake Arthur for his shift.

"Thank you for sharing your stories," he said with a yawn, only barely keeping himself upright.

"It was an honour to share them. I look forward to hearing your stories upon your return."