Chapter Thirty-Six

Hello, everyone!

This was another one of those chapters that I had to dump the first draft of and rewrite entirely.

Special thanks to all my reviewers!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

"Aldwyn's dead."

The words weren't spoken directly to Arthur, but shock overwhelmed him for a moment just the same.

And here I was thinking this was a good day.

The first day of traveling with the Bernician scouting group had been decidely awkward. Arthur's knights had been wary of the Bernicians and Deirans and the feeling was mutual. Merlin had distanced himself from Arthur and had barely spoken to anyone at all. Neither had Gwaine.

Today had been better. Early on Leon had, in some combination of indignation and sheer curiosity, asked Haralda what the business with her previous visit to Camelot and the white dragon was about. The princess had yelled at Gwaine, who was riding ahead, asking if she could "tell the story". Gwaine had shouted back that he didn't give a damn at this point, so Haralda had proceeded to explain the whole affair with apparent pleasure.

Merlin hadn't looked too happy. Yet Arthur hadn't even felt angry and didn't bother him about it. He is a Dragonlord, after all, and he was keeping a dragon from causing havoc.

Plus it explained why the manservant had risked his master's trust just to "visit a friend". And why he had been gone so long.

After Haralda had finished her tale, she'd kept talking to the knights. As the hours passed, a several of the ten or so knights of Camelot ventured cordial conversations with the other riders, making the atmosphere much more relaxed as they traveled onward.

Said relaxed mood had completely shattered when they'd reached the city of Amata, visibly damaged even from a fair distance, and had been swarmed by guards as they tried to enter the combined encampment of the Bernicians and Deirans.

The scouts who had been sent right after the battle had not known about the Camelot delegation. Therfore the bright red cloaks and Pendragon crest apparently marked the men from Camelot as enemies, or at least distrusted visitors.

It took a lot of shouting from Gwaine and Haralda to get the soldiers to even back off. Something about the men struck Arthur as odd; considering they had definitely won the battle against Amata, they all seemed unreasonably ill-tempered.

In fact, they didn't disband until a person Arthur belatedly recognized as rather grown-up, battered-looking Everard Barclayn came rushing forward, ordering the soldiers to go back to their posts. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. His orders came out in a violent tone, only enforced when he shoved a slow-moving guard to the ground.

Arthur recalled the polite, thoughtful boy he had met over two years before and wondered what had changed.

Judging by Gwaine and Haralda's reactions to the young prince's behavior, it was a very recent change indeed.

They had all dismounted, the knights of Camelot still a bit jumpy, as Everard had demanded loudly what exactly Arthur Pendragon was doing there.

"He's here to talk peace." Haralda had snapped in reply. "Where's Father?"

"In his tent. He's not going to like this at all." Everard glared in Arthur's direction.

"We know." Gwaine had said dismissively. "We're hoping to convince him that not all Pendragons are the scum of the earth. Now, I need to talk to your older brother. Where is he?"

Everard's expression had frozen for a moment. Then, in a perfectly level, clear, and icy voice, he had told them.

Arthur heard Merlin's sharp intake of breath from behind him. An outburst of muttering swept through the knights surrounding them. But the reactions of the two Barclayns were what drew his attention.

Haralda let out some sort of strangled yelp as her rigid stature seemed to crumple, though she kept her balance. Gwaine didn't make a sound, but stumbled back against his horse, reaching up and gripping its mane for support. Everard kept staring straight ahead, blankly.

The anger in the soldiers makes sense now, Arthur realized. Their prince is dead.

He recalled Aldwyn Barclayn and the few weeks they'd traveled together. Mostly what he remembered was a lot of grudging courtesy from the northern prince, a fistfight involving between him and Gwaine, and the way he'd calmly banned Arthur and his men from entering Bernicia when they weren't even sure they would live to see the next day. He wouldn't be honest if he said he'd liked the man; circumstances and old prejudices had made that unlikely from the beginning. But respect…Arthur could have managed that. Perhaps, in a more peaceful world, they could have been allies. Friends.

We could have been after this war, he thought as he remained quiet, somewhat removed from the situation itself. Whatever regret he felt over the loss of a potential ally, he knew it was nothing compared to what Gwaine and Haralda were going through.

It was the princess who spoke next, her voice shaky but loud. "How? When? Who…"

"Near the end of the battle. A wounded Amatan took him by surprise." Everard's voice remained completely even, not even shaking. "It was fast. His killer also died quickly."

Haralda, face completely white, said, "Did Aldwyn kill him?"

"Elwin."

Arthur winced. Imagining the lighthearted boy killing someone just felt…wrong.

"Is he…all right?" Haralda sounded slightly steadier by this point.

"Fine."

"What were you two even doing in the battle?" Gwaine asked roughly. He stepped closer to his cousin, almost threateningly. "You weren't to go into the thick of it. That was what everyone said."

"We were on the edges." Everard said stiffly. "We were heading back to the encampment when…it happened."

Gwaine nodded, slowly. "Other losses?"

"It could have been worse." Everard replied. "Hayden survived. I sent him home yesterday. With an escort." Pause. "One of his wyverns died." Gwaine muttered what sounded like an exclamation of relief.

Arthur's confusion was mirrored by that of his knights. "That wyvern tamer came too?" Percival frowned.

"Yeah." Merlin said quietly. "Gwaine told me about it. King Harlan's idea."

Well, at least we don't have to talk to him. Or see his flying lizards. Arthur pushed aside those thoughts as Everard approached him. "Welcome to what's left of Amata, Pendragon." he said, holding out his hand. "King Eldin will be glad to see you, I'm sure."

It felt strange, but Arthur clasped Everard's arm briefly. "And your father?"

"I…don't know how he'll react. He hasn't been…doing much of anything since the battle." For a second, Everard looked like a tired, frightened child to Arthur's eyes, before his stony mask reappeared.

"So who's been in charge? You?" Haralda asked incredulously.

"Yes." Everard looked over at her and added bitterly, "Because you and Gwaine weren't here to take care of things, I did.."

Arthur suddenly felt very glad that his father hadn't let him have full control over more than a few men at a time until he was of age.

Minutes later, the most of the knights had scattered to tend to their horses and get some sustenance for themselves. Arthur, along with Percival, Elyan, Leon, and Merlin followed the three Barclayns to King Harlan's tent. Merlin had been about to lead the horses off when Arthur had said, "I want you to come with us, Merlin. Someone else can take care of the horses this time." I need your advice if things truly go south.

The Arthur of old would have been embarrassed to admit, however indirectly, that he valued a mere servant's advice so highly.

Then again, he's no mere servant, and I am not the man I used to be.

Merlin seemed to understand. As they approached the royal tent, marked by its banner bearing not only a wolf but a seven-pointed star, the warlock murmured, "From what I've heard, Harlan is very loud and judgmental. I don't know how much Aldwyn's death will have affected him, but if he's anything like his normal self…"

"I understand. Tread carefully." And now we don't have his eldest son to help us out here. Gwaine had seemed to put much faith into "Aldwyn will side with us".

No one expected him to die, I guess.

King Edlin turned out to be in the tent as well as Harlan and Prince Elwin. Slumped in his throne-like seat by a cluttered table, his grizzled head bowed, Harlan appeared quite old. Edlin was pacing in front of him, stroking his short pointed beard and muttering. Behind the seat stood Elwin, who quickly vacated his spot, practically throwing himself onto Haralda and hugging her fiercely. She returned the embrace tentatively as the two kings looked at the new arrivals.

"You're back." Harlan said. "You lost two men?"

"Yes. One was one of your knights, Your Majesty." Gwaine said to Edlin.

"I heard." The king sighed, his gaze returning to the rest of the group, eyes narrowing when he spotted Arthur.

"Six injured were left behind." Gwaine continued, "They will return home as soon as possible. And we brought visitors with us, as you can see."

Harlan nodded lethargically, seemingly disinterested.

"Father," Haralda said loudly, "This is Arthur Pendragon. Arthur, Harlan Barclayn."

Edlin looked rather pleased. Harlan's eyes widened and he stood. "You brought a Pendragon?"

No one seemed inclined to answer that directly, but Edlin stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Arthur Pendragon. It has been many, many years."

"Indeed it has." Arthur managed a half-smile. "I trust our kingdoms are still at peace?"

"Of course! Even more so now that your forces defeated Sarrum." Edlin gave Harlan a pointed look.

The Bernician king still looked angry. "What do you want, Pendragon?"

Arthur met the gaze. "Official peace between our kingdoms."

From his new position behind Everard, Elwin let out a surprised yelp.

Harlan snorted. "Impossible."

"Your Majesty, his forces destroyed Sarrum's army." Gwaine said. "He's here asking to become our ally. He means no ill by it."

Arthur wondered if he should say something. Everard beat him to it. "I also believe he means no harm, only friendship. Camelot could be a powerful ally, Father."

The Pendragon exchanged looks with his knights. Due to Everard's initial less-than-warm reception, he hadn't been sure if the young prince would be a help or not. Seems he takes after his older brother.

"Uther Pendragon threatened war upon us for no decent reason. He killed his own people by the hundreds. He tried to turn the other kingdoms against us! There will be no peace with Camelot!" Harlan snarled.

This isn't going well at all…Arthur glanced at Merlin; the manservant's eyes were fixed on the scene before them.

"Harlan, be reasonable!" Edlin said unhappily. "Arthur is…"

"Not his father." Gwaine interrupted, his nostrils were flared, his jaw clenched. "He could have turned on us after we helped him, because of who we are. Uther might've. Arthur didn't." He stepped up close to the glowering king. "You're stubborn at the best of times, Uncle. Now you're just being unreasonable. And I understand. You're mourning Aldwyn…At least you've had days to…Haralda and I found out a few minutes ago. Note that we're still standing."

Harlan struck him in the face. Caught off guard, Gwaine lost his balance and landed on the floor.

"Father!" Everard shouted.

Taking a step back, Arthur gaped as Gwaine lunged to his feet. He didn't have a clear view of his former knight's face, but he could practically see the rage pouring off of him.

Nobody moved for a minute, during which Arthur found his gaze drawn to the table by the throne. It was shaking, rattling the maps and dishes atop it.

Realizing what must be happening, he wondered if they should all vacate the tent. The way his knights were edging backwards told him they felt the same way.

"Gwaine." Merlin said suddenly, prompting the man to look at him.

A long moment passed, then Gwaine backed up against the tent wall and shut his eyes, taking slow, even breaths. The table stopped shaking. Harlan collapsed back into his seat.

"Your Majesty," Everard said, "hear Arthur out."

The old king stared at his son, then looked to Arthur and nodded.

Arthur took a deep breath. "King Harlan, I want there to be nothing but friendship between our kingdoms. What my father did…" he hesitated, his gaze flickering over to Merlin for a second before he went on, "What my father did was wrong. His threat of war, his slaughter of innocents…I know he was wrong. He started many wars, created many rifts between different kingdoms. I am not my father. I wish for peace. I am truly sorry for your loss; I understand now is a difficult time…but I am asking you to give this a chance. Give us a chance to right the wrongs of the past."

The Barclayn glanced around. "I can see you support this, Edlin. Everard?"

Despite some obvious surprise, the prince answered readily, "Arthur Pendragon saved my life and Elwin's. He's a good man."

"I'm with them on this one." Haralda added.

Harlan sighed heavily, sinking further into his seat. "What has the world come to?" he grumbled.

Arthur had only met the king of Bernicia a few minutes before. But even he could tell that the battle here was won.

Official talks between the rulers of Bernicia, Deira, and Camelot would commence the following morning. Arthur had insinuated that the Great Purge had been wrong. There was time now to rest and recover.

Almost everyone had gone to get some rest. Haralda had slipped off to join the rowdiest of the Deirans in another drinking party. Gwaine had left the encampment altogether, wandering through the nearby woods until he found an empty, isolated clearing.

He allowed himself one anguished shout, something snapping inside of him. The feeling was familiar by this point, and almost comforting.

Branches on the nearest encircling trees shattered, falling to the ground in a shower of splinters. As a flock of startled birds fled the area, wingbeats fading rapidly, Gwaine sat down heavily in the middle of the clearing. His face ached where his uncle had hit him; doubtlessly he now had an impressive bruise along his jaw. If he could sort out his emotions right now, he'd probably be angry, and maybe just a bit amused.

But he didn't know what to feel.

Aldwyn's dead.

It felt so wrong. Aldwyn was too damn stubborn and alive to die.

Yet Gwaine knew it was true; he'd as good as said it out loud himself. Perhaps it felt unreal because he hadn't been there himself. He hadn't seen it.

I was talking about him as if he were alive days after he died.

"Aldwyn" and "dead" didn't seem to fit together, somehow.

Gwaine felt a rush of guilt. It should've been me…I should've been there, stopped it somehow…I should have spent more time with him when I had the chance…

They'd been best friends, once. Things had been different between them the last two years; age and experiences had changed them both. If someone asked Gwaine who his closest friend was now, he'd have to reply that it was a toss-up between Merlin and Hayden Wyverndomitor.

Still, he should have made an effort…

"I need you around when I'm king. For entertainment."

"Pardon me? You have Elwin for that."

"Well, I may also need you to train my future sons in combat…"

Aldwyn would never be king now. Unless Braeden was with child now, which was unlikely, he'd never have any sons. Just the now-fatherless Princess Alison.

And since Bernicia's laws dictated that upon the death of a king the throne go to the next male heir in line, the next Barclayn to wear the crown would be Everard.

Poor kid.

Gwaine recalled Everard's newfound ferocity, Elwin's near-silence, and Harlan's weary anger. Aldwyn's death had changed them all. Death did that. He knew that very well.

"Gwaine?" It was Merlin.

Gwaine mumbled a greeting as the warlock sat down next to him. "The trees look worse for the wear."

"So obviously my magic's back."

A pause followed. "I thought you were going to lose control. In the tent."

"Yeah. Thanks for snapping me out of it, mate."

"Anytime." Another pause. "So…came out here to destroy things far away from people?"

"And to think."

"Hmm." Another pause. "I'm sorry about your cousin."

"So am I." Gwaine didn't want to discuss it further and changed the subject by saying, "I fought Mordred. Did I tell you that already?"

Merlin groaned.

"I heard rumors." Gwaine continued, watching Merlin. "Arthur tried to execute his girlfriend, huh?"

"She was part of the assassination attempt I mentioned."

"But you skipped the part with Mordred."

"I didn't want to think about it." Merlin sighed. "I found her body. After the battle. But not Mordred's."

"Did anyone find him?"

"No, I don't…didn't you kill him?"

"He was all set to kill me when Aithusa intervened. I don't know if he died or not."

Merlin swore under his breath. "He could still be out there."

"Maybe. So? He's one man. One man with magic, yes, but still just one."

"He's destined to kill Arthur."

It was Gwaine's turn to groan. "I know it's no use telling you to keep an eye out, Merlin, because you do anyway. I'm sorry I didn't gut him when I had the chance." He abruptly realized how callous he sounded, calmly discussing killing a person he'd met and liked once. It was normal, really, but still very wrong.

That's war for you. No one was completely in the right, and the cost was always so damn high.

"We can only hope for the best." Merlin said eventually. "Are you going to be alright, Gwaine?"

Gwaine looked away, glancing over the ruined branches around the edges of the clearing. All broken.

"Meet you on the other side of the war, cousin."

"Meet you on the other side."

The war was over, but Aldwyn was gone.

Gwaine wasn't.

"You were always there; my idiot, irresponsible, far-to-skillful-with-a-sword-for-his-own-good cousin. Then…you weren't."

"I'll be there now." Gwaine said quietly.

"What was that?" Merlin asked..

"I'll be fine." Gwaine stood up, brushing grass off his cloak. "It's getting late."

They walked back to the encampment together, not saying much and not needing to as the sun sank behind far-off hills.

Elwin met them partway there; apparently he had worried when he couldn't find Gwaine in the camp. He managed a somewhat cheerful conversation with Merlin.

Haralda got drunk and stumbled around, swearing at everyone she saw until she keeled over mid-stride. Gwaine, Merlin, and Elwin found an empty tent for her to sleep the ale off in.

Everard turned up in Gwaine's tent that night and cried for over an hour. Unsure of what to do, Gwaine settled for saying nothing and staying beside his cousin until the boy fell asleep.

At least someone is sleeping tonight.

Gwaine didn't.

It was dark and cold, and he was alone.

His body was battered, his limbs aching, yet he could not bring himself rest for more than a few minutes before his restless mind propelled him back to his feet and farther away from the ruin behind him.

The white dragon's attack had not been as fierce as he would have anticipated, but it had left him unconcious, only to wake shortly before immenint discovery by knights of Camelot. Knowing what fate awaited him should he be captured, he fled.

I would receive no mercy. And I would ask for none.

He had magic. Arthur Pendragon was an enemy of magic. Even if he accepted it eventually, because of Emrys, he would still be the enemy.

He will always be my enemy.

The former druid and knights didn't know where he was going, exactly, only that he was going away from Camelot. Across other kingdoms, across other seas, perhaps he would be safe from the wrath of Emrys. Until the right moment.

One day, I will have my revenge.

It might be many years before the right opportunity arose, but he could wait. He could make a new life somewhere far away, all the while biding his time. The memory of the Pendragons' crimes, the traitor warlock, and the woman he loved slain before his eyes would keep the fire of hatred burning forever.

Mordred would never forgive. And he would never forget.

Before anyone asks, that will be the last appearance by Mordred in this particular story. He's still destined to kill Arthur...just not yet.

I'll try to update soon :)