The three cloaked figures enter the kingdom with some apprehension. They know themselves to be enemies of the kingdom by their very nature. These are some of the last druids. All that remains now is a small group. Mating with fellow druids has been difficult throughout the long years. So difficult to find, so difficult to carry on the lineage. So much hiding, so much desolation. But that can change now. They know the legends, the prophesies. They know that Emrys can help.

"Emrys..." They call out mentally. "Emrys, come to us..."

Merlin jumps at the echoes of three distinct voices in his head. They are sitting now in the drawing room and this catches everyone's attention. They all look at him. He closes his eyes for a moment.

"Who are you?"

"We represent the last of the druids." The voices all answer.

"What do you want from me?"

"It is time, Emrys."

"Time for what?"

"The end of hiding. The time of Albion."

Merlin opens his eyes to look at Arthur, who stares back at him with that expression which reads: what is going on? what are you doing?

"That time has come. Or will very soon."

"Camelot is returned. How does the king?"

"He knows of me and accepts my abilities. Albion is nigh."

"Merlin, what are you doing?"

He has not realised he is still staring at Arthur. He blinks.

"Druids." He says by way of explanation, "In the kingdom."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Sire," Gaius intervenes, "Merlin can communicate with the druids mentally and vise versa."

Merlin nods vaguely, though not really paying attention to that conversation.

"Come to us, Emrys. Come to our camp."

"Help us, Emrys. Help us."

"Save us, Emrys."

"Emrys..."

The voices echoing in his head are making him dizzy.

"Help us."

"Protect us."

"Save us."

"Enough!" Merlin snaps, "Not all at once. I don't even know what it is you want me to do."

"Come to our camp."

"Fine."

Merlin looks around and finds all eyes on him.

"They need me to go to their camp."

"You?" Arthur nearly scoffs, "Why you?"

"They like me better. I don't know, Arthur." He sighs and buries his face in his hands, "Never any rest. All these years and never any rest..." He closes his eyes for a long moment. Arthur frowns slightly. "I'll go now." He stands.

"I'll accompany you." Arthur offers, but Merlin shakes his head.

"No, I should go alone. They aren't ready to trust you yet. Understand that they've been hiding for centuries. They've lived in fear of persecution. I'm one of them. They trust me. I alone must go."

"Be back by morning. If you haven't returned, I'll send men after you."

Merlin merely nods before leaving.

Morgana is surprised to learn that the king has a daughter. This does not dissuade her, however; the child is young and poses no threat. Morgana would hazard a guess that she is nine winters old. She is a quiet little thing that has already grown attached to Morgana. Her mother, she has been informed, died while giving birth to the child. Morgana dislikes the reminder of Arthur, yet can't find it in her heart to hate the child— she has always had a certain fondness for children. When she becomes queen, she will take the child under her wing. Perhaps she can be taught magic.

The king is clearly quite enamoured with Morgana. Already, it is obvious. Even his men have begun to take notice, Morgana notes with a satisfied grin. Morgana plays her part well her first evening, when she is invited to dine with the king.

"A toast," the king says at the end of the meal, raising his goblet, "to you, Morgana, and to your newfound home. Welcome."

The little girl, Alyss, raises her goblet too, smiling at Morgana with all the childish innocence Morgana, herself, once had. Morgana smiles back to seem proper and places a hand on her chest.

"I'm honoured, my Lord." She says, "And I am most grateful to be most warmly received."

"You're a charming girl." He notes, observing her for several moments in such a way that makes Morgana feel suddenly naked. His eyes seem to see her entirely, through and through and Morgana is disturbed by this. "You may dine with me and my daughter anytime." He decides. Morgana shifts uncomfortably under his stare, but forces a grin nevertheless.

"It would be my pleasure, sire." She replies, lowering her eyes coquettishly so that he might notice how delicately her long lashes sat against her ivory cheek. The king continues to stare at her, finding it pleasant to do so, marveling at her beauty. Morgana pretends not to notice now, but young Alyss can see her discomfort. She is a very attentive child, in her quietness.

"Morgana," She pipes up, "I would like very much to show you my newest dress."

"I would love to see it." She takes the excuse for an exit, internally grateful and internally loathing the king.

"Father, may we retire?" Alyss asks. Obsidius reluctantly nods, whereupon Alyss stands and takes Morgana's hand, leading her out of the dining hall and through the halls. Morgana looks down at her, a little bewildered at the child's perceptiveness and kindness.

"Thank you, Alyss." She says quietly.

"Father is like that sometimes with the handmaids. I know they do not like it very much."

"What you have done is much appreciated." Morgana tells her, "... In fact, I think it merits a little gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes, but once we are somewhere private."

Alyss looks at her questioningly for a moment, but shrugs it off.

"My room is just down this hall." She says, "Perhaps there?"

"Indeed."

The young girl leads her into her bedroom and Morgana makes sure to close the door behind them. This done, she turns to Alyss and kneels down the her level and she places her hands on her shoulders.

"Now you can't tell anyone about this just yet, okay?"

"Okay."

Morgana holds out her hand, palm facing upwards.

"Bláthanna." She murmurs and a delicate little flower forms in her hand. She gives it to Alyss, who gazes at it in awe, her little jaw dropping. She spins the flower around in her hands and holds it right in front of her large hazel eyes, as if to make sure that it truly is real. She brings it to her nose and inhales the sweet perfume scent of the flower.

"Larkspur." She whispers.

"Yes."

"But how?"

"Magic." Morgana breathes.

"Beautiful..."

Morgana smiles a true smile.

"You can't tell anyone though."

"Why not?"

"Because some people would fear me or hate me for it. It cannot be revealed yet. Understand?"

"Yes, Morgana."

"There's a good girl."

Alyss embraces Morgana and, for a moment, touches the witch's cold heart. Morgana reprimands herself internally. Feelings are a weakness, she tells herself. I cannot let this little girl get inside my head. She can be allowed to live, that is all.

Morgana stands, ending the embrace.

"I should retire to my chambers." She moves to leave.

"Goodnight, Morgana." Alyss murmurs. Morgana pauses and looks back.

"Yes. Goodnight." She leaves, closing the door behind her.