Alaia Skyhawk: Very very very very long time since I last updated this, I know. Life and work have a way of taking up time, and suddenly you just don't have the spare time you used to for writing. I can't promise a set pace on updates, but I'll try and get an episode up here and there. So keep your eyes open for the other two parts of this one. They won't be too far behind :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Music:

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Chapter 25: Spies and Visions ~Part 1~

It was with a dispassionate hand and will that the spells were cast, that task interspersed with the necessities of creating more of the special preparations with which to treat the weapons and armour before her. Those items were arrayed in piles of crates, forming an impromptu wall around the back of her tent. Towering over it, in its own way a testament to the size of the army Aelle now had at his disposal.

It had only been two months since the conquest, and already the entirety of Kent had fallen into line.

Morgana sighed before directing a fond glance towards the crow perched in the nearby branches. Hordwynn, in his ceaseless curiosity, was inspecting every crevice of his perch in search of insects, with a running monologue of caws as he did so. Her little messenger providing a constant source of amusement at the times she needed that distraction.

Her mind strayed to the message that had come back with him. Just a short note on a scrap of paper torn from a larger sheet, and yet even now she kept it hidden in pouch hung around her neck. A note that did nothing more than thank her, the unknown ally, for her warning about Aelle. A note from Merlin... A thank you from Merlin... She kept it close like the greatest of treasures, even when better sense would have been to burn it lest Aelle or one of his followers discover that incriminating piece of evidence.

She closed her hand around that pouch even now, drawing strength of purpose from that cherished piece of acknowledgement. Aithusa, not long after Hordwynn's return, had revealed to her that she'd visited Merlin recently. To see his newborn son, and also to plant a further seed of hope for the fallen witch.

Morgana had been reduced to tears of gratitude, when the dragon declared she'd forewarned Merlin not to take any actions by his former enemy at face value. Aithusa had not revealed the truth of what those actions were or where she was, but that didn't change the fact that it meant Merlin would defend his former foe when the truth was revealed. Morgana had no doubt of that, for Merlin would not be Merlin if he didn't.

She took a steadying breath and resumed her work on the piles of armour, her resolve firm. Up until now she'd wavered on this path, been doubtful, but now she would hold strong. She would worry not for her future, for anything that was even the worst that Merlin would permit would be by far brighter than anything she had endured during her time in darkness.

Let Aelle make his plans against the neighbouring realms. Let him conquer them as she knew was inevitable. Let him use the advantage her enchantments gave him. She would focus only on the greatest goal of her actions; the hastened birth of Golden Age of Albion. She would do her best to harbour no guilt for her choices in this, even if a small part of her would forever regret them.

But while she had come to full acceptance of her circumstances, there was one other who had not. He who had spent each day ensuring her care and well-being, and who each day had witnessed his family do nothing for her but belittle her in what few unnamed remarks they made or ignore her as person completely. She was nothing to them but her magic, and never would be more.

Cissa gazed out of one of the upper castle windows, his attention settling on the area of woodland where he knew Morgana's tent lay. It had been several months now since King Durwin's fall and Kent's conquering. The harvest was nearly completed, and soon all would be settling down in readiness for winter.

But not in the War Room. In that chamber, Aelle was already planning the conquest of Sussex. Word of his effortless victory against King Durwin had meant the difficulty in recruiting the better quality of men and mercenaries from the mainland had melted away. Over the course of the winter, those recruits would be gathered and ships organised. Come spring, Sussex would find an army of men in enchanted steel armour surging across their eastern border, while their entire, lengthy coastline was simultaneously assaulted by hit-and-run tactics from the sea.

The men on the ships would not have enchanted armour, but by leaving before any counter attack could arrive, they would not need it. They would run the defenders ragged, and force King Lergath to try and choose between defending his rear lest those on the ships capture and take a dangerous foothold on his land, or defending against the army at his front.

Cissa turned away from the window and headed for his chambers. Far more troubled by these events than Morgana now was. He envied the Seer in her acceptance of all this as inevitable fate, while he stood here amid it all faced with the impossible challenge of reining in his father's greed.

By the end of the next year, Sussex would be given to Cymen to rule over. By the end of the year after, Aelle intended to have gifted Essex to Wlencing to lead. By the year after that, he would certainly turn his eye to Wessex for a throne to give his last and youngest son.

Cissa had perhaps three years to try convince his father to stop at that; a realm for each of them. Three years may have seemed like a lot of time to him once, but when his father spent almost every spare waking minute plotting and planning his conquests there was little opportunity for his youngest to approach him. The son who was a grown man, but more often treated like a child whenever he tried to voice suggestions or opinions. Unless he could earn his father's true respect, he would never be able to prevent Morgana's vision of his family's death from coming to pass.

Entering the opulent chambers that were now his as the youngest Prince of Kent, frustrated by present inability to make a difference, it took all his control not to slam the door as he closed it. His thoughts in turmoil that would not have been eased had he known the truth of how destiny worked and how cruel it could seem to those trying to deny it. Indeed, it would likely break him had he known, which was why Aithusa had not corrected him when he'd made his promise. The promise he would try being his father to reason.

Because if Aelle were to be stopped short on this path, then Albion would never be, and the destiny of Emrys and the Once and Future King would fail. And destiny had proven time and again against Morgana, that any effort to thwart the fates of those most tightly tied to that chain of destiny... was a futile and pointless gesture.

Thus, unknowing to him, Aithusa was allowing him to hope. But only until such a time as he learnt and accepted the truth for himself. Thus he now directed himself towards the one area he could make a difference right now, by continuing his newest self-appointed role.

His father did not want or need him in the War Room, but he could still help the war effort. If he would not get the chance to earn his father's respect on the battlefield, then he would earn it by buying him further advantages towards victories in another way. For Cissa had not been idle this long summer, but had instead spent it locating, checking, and then enlisting a small number of skilled infiltrators.

King Durwin's spies could never have been trusted, even if they'd been able to discover who they were, so instead a new network of spies of their own had been required.

Cissa sat down at his desk and began to peruse through the reports he had so far, and his carefully encrypted records of those the reports had come from and how reliable they'd been thus far. For now that he'd identified the best of those he had, it was only sensible that he now set two of them to the task of finding and identifying the inevitable spies from the neighbouring realms that were surely already within the capital.

A spy identified was a spy that could be used to spread misinformation. Put the right false message in the right place, and when battle came its strike would come all the harder and more unexpectedly. And should those spies he had already sent into Sussex come back with valuable information that could be used to effect against King Lergath, he could use that in his quest to earn his father's respect and regard so long as he presented it in the right way.

His resolve firm, Cissa began to write two very special notes. By nightfall they would both be hidden at the drop-off points for those two spies, and by morning those men would begin the task he'd set them.

Yet neither he nor his spies would notice the forth figure involved that night, who observed the Prince leaving the messages, and gave only passing regard to the two spies who retrieved them. The nondescript man from among the castle staff, as bland and unnoticeable as any other, but for the tiny disguised mirror worn on a cord around his neck.

Let the other realms send their spies in concern that their kingdoms be invaded as Kent was. King Fyrendir was far more concerned with where Aelle's magical support was coming from. And if Cissa was Aelle's spy-master, as so clearly appeared to be the case, then it was almost certain the Prince would lead to Aelle's magical supporters sooner of later.

And when that happened, he intended to be there.

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Alaia Skyhawk: Hope you enjoyed it :)