THE FOREST OF NEMIA
Twilight.
A twig cracked a few feet away from where a group of unwashed, unmannered men in grey were sat with their swords around small fire.
They were saying vulgar things as the mist and night startled to settle around them.
It would be dark within the hour.
A particular loud laugh by one of the men was cut short by the other hushing him, a hand up in a gesture.
The group fell silent as they listened to another crack behind a tree nearby.
The younger man glanced at the older man, whose beard was speckled with dirt and food.
"Do you hear that Gerard?" The young man hissed, his pale blue eyes snapping around.
Gérard nodded, his icy eyes unblinking as it scanned the darkening forest.
"Show yourself!" Gérard shouted.
It rang through the forest and was met with silence.
The men all stood, dropping their bowls and the loot they had been counting.
All of them drew swords.
The young man's eyes were darting around as another crack of a twig met their ears.
"Do not worry Mordred." Gerard hissed at him.
"I am not worried…"
"We are more than a match for anything in this forest, or at least, you are."
"Oh I wouldn't be so sure about that."
The sneering female voice made the mass of twenty men spin in that direction.
Her hand's flew up and seven of them were sent to the floor by invisible air.
Other tripped over tree stumps from shock.
The fire remained bring bright though.
It's light did not seem to touch her dark cloak though.
Gerard sighed and sheathed his sword.
"Lady Morgana." He bowed slightly, "We thought you were joining us the day after tomorrow morning at the white pass before the border of Carleon."
"A change of plans." Morgana threw off her hood and her pale face glowed in the light.
She strode towards Gerard and the men who had remained standing.
"It seems the noble king and his entourage plan to stay in Ealdor tomorrow night, we will intercept them then, where there is nowhere for them to run except down the ridge into the insignificant village." She stated coldly.
One of the other bandits stepped forwards, "King Arthur, that's who the job is on?"
"That's who you want us to kill?"
"Kill a king?"
The grievance from the men around her irritated Morgana.
"Why should we do as she says anyway?"
The question from one of them was enough.
She flung her arms out to the side and her and her eyes shone amber.
The men, including him and Gerard, were thrown onto their backs, causing them to gasp and groan in pain.
"Because I am your queen that is why!" She screamed, "With my help your fetid bandit trading will make you rich, once I am on my throne, which I cannot be whilst Arthur and his wench occupy it!"
She hissed through her teeth as the men all pushed themselves upright.
Mordred stiffened when her eyes flashed to his.
She stood stock still, before approaching slowly.
"Mordred?" She whispered.
He nodded, bowing slightly, "my lady, I am pleased you recognised me…"
She laughed, touching his shoulder fondly.
"Call me Morgana." She smiled at him, "It is so good to see you well…"
Gerard stepped towards them, "Morgana…"
Her eyes flew to him and he was silenced instantly by the ice burning in her irises.
"We will leave after dawn." She said coldly, before turning and melting into the forest.
Mordred sighed and Gerard looked at him in confusion.
Mordred said nothing and sat down, resuming eating by the fire.
THE FOREST OF NEMIA
Over a mile away, a safe distance from the road and shrouded by trees, the group from Camelot had made camp and eaten supper.
The moon was rising but the temperature had not dropped much, although Arthur still wanted to be sure his wife was not cold.
Percival was sat beside Merlin on a log next to the fire.
Guinevere had been sat with them but had gone to join Arthur, sat beside the tree a little way away on first watch.
Merlin glanced over his shoulder to see that instead of being sat up beside him she was now laying curled in a ball at his side, her head in his lap.
Arthur was sat with his back against the tree, legs stretched out in front of him, stroking her hair softly as his eyes stared into the distance.
Merlin had to look back at the knights when Gwaine chucked a log on the fire.
"Well, Merlin, I reckon that was your best backwoods cooking yet." He commented, reaching for his flask.
"Yep." Percival stretched, clapping Merlin on the back.
It made the young Warlock's bones shake inside him.
"And tomorrow we will be curled up on your mother's floor, eating her cooking, before on to Carleon for the feast…" Gwaine stretched before pushing himself to sit on the floor, leaning back against the log.
"Is all you think about food?" Merlin asked.
Percival chuckled.
"Maybe." Gwaine grinned, "But are there ladies at your village…"
"Unmarried ladies?" Percival arched an eyebrow.
"No." Gwaine shook his head, "That would make me picky, and that would be wrong… I intend to take all that god gives…"
Percival chucked his flask at Gwaine and Merlin shook his head, flicking a stone into the fire.
The knights were supposed to be above him, for he was only a servant.
Yet they talked to him as though he was their equal… as though he was their friend.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the three of them by the fire and looked down at his wife.
The smallest hints of a smile touched his lips and he pulled the cloak, which had been laying over his legs, to rest it gently over her, her head still in his lap.
She curled tighter into a ball under it, and Arthur stroked her hair again, pleased that she was now warm enough.
He leant his head back against the tree and stared into the distance, wondering just what the future would bring.
Not the immediate future, when they visited Annis in Carleon…
But the future.