Tap tap tap. The footsteps of polished boots echoed across the airy chamber. In rows along it's stone wall were nearly forty knights, each clad in chain mail and swathed with a cape of Amata green. Lord Grondin marched along the row of stern faces. Even though it was midnight each man's unwavering eyes stared straight ahead; there was no sign of fatigue in their military postures.

"You have each been selected based on your strength, your courage, and your loyalty to your kingdom!" These words thundered over the men. "Today your Sarrum has called you to protect your land and your people. Camelot is ruled by a boy-king, not a man who is worthy of his crown." Do not question only obey. Your commander's word is your truth. "Will you prove that I was right to choose every one of you?" The soldiers dared to look Grondin in the eye. "Will you fight alongside each other like brothers? Once the King Arthur is captured the lands of Camelot will be free to benefit all of our peoples. Your families will no longer be hungry, your children will grow up healthy and strong." Do you not see that this is the only way? There was no leeway in his voice, no room for questions, no room for anything but the building fire growing in every man's breast. "Tell me protectors of Amata, will you fight for the glory of your kingdom?" Their shout shook the night's stars.

"Yes!"

The birds fell silent, the rabbits fled as forty riders on horseback raced down Arisnde's road. The whipping dust churning at the hooves of the horses crusted on leather armour and stung faces, but the riders only grit their teeth and pressed onwards. Following behind them, at a distance, was a group of one hundred foot soldiers. They would act as a safety net of sorts, providing reinforcements if needed, and catching any escapees who managed to flee. Lord Grondin lead their charge astride a powerful, black shire. When they were half a league into the forest Grondin slowed their progress, and they left the road to advance through the brush. Finally Grondin let out a low thrush whistle: the signal to halt. The knights tethered their horses deep in the forest, then spread out over either side of the road, making sure they were hidden by stones, trunks and bracken, and crouched down to wait for their prey.

"Ah Leon, of course I grabbed it from the kitchens, where else would I have gotten it?" When Leon made a grab for the skin of ale Gwaine shoved it behind his back. "Come on mate, it's only a bit to wet the gizzard on this dry road." At the grave look on Sir Leon's face Gwaine reluctantly handed the skin over to his commander. Have to set an example for young Hugo. Gwaine's thoughts grumbled internally. Besides, the round table only has room for one impertinent knight. I really will miss the ale though.

Leon uncorked the skin and eyed the liquid inside. From their positions lounging around the campfire the rest of the knights watched with amusement. With a flourish Leon made as if to pour the ale out onto the grass, but before Gwaine could grab it back from him he pressed the bottle to his lips and downed half of it in one gulp. Burrghpp! Leon looked properly shocked at the unseemingly noise he had involuntarily uttered while Gwaine and Hugo roared. Leon muttered something about respect for authority, then loudly ordered Gwaine to take first watch, and Hugo second, before shooing John and Mordred into their bedrolls to sleep.

Starlight faintly outlined Gwaine's stopped figure as he sat watch, and Mordred stared back into the dying embers of the campfire. The only noises he could hear were the occasional snore and the humming of forest insects. Again he felt a warmth in his stomach, and knew it wasn't from the stew he had eaten for supper. For once again in his life he belonged. He had found family.

Morgana laid inside her tent, soft sheepskins covering her bed. Outside it had fallen dark, but she couldn't sleep. Even High Priestesses were not exempt from the call of nature. Grumbling Morgana slipped from her bed, hugging her arms to ward of chill as she left her tent. A couple minutes later she reentered the clearing where she and her followers had made camp. She was nearing her tent when she heard voices drifting over from the few men still lingering around the dying campfire.

"Risking our life for one woman," "She's practically invincible!" "Have yous seen what she can do?" "Ten men at once," "Yes but..." Morgana tuned out the mens' conversation, not caring about their inconsequential opinions. She yawned and was nearly back to her tent when her ears pricked. Had she heard correctly? Then she heard it again.

"Emrys, that's what the druids call him." Morgana spun around. The two men hadn't noticed her moving in the shadows, their illuminated faces too focused on their conversation. Dry grass crunched as Morgana marched over to the men.

"Why do you speak of Emrys?" she hissed. The men, surprised and terrified, turned to look at their leader.

"We-we meant no disrespect M-my Lady," the first man spluttered out. The second nodded vigorously. "It is only a n-name I heard during my travels... I do not know what it means." Morgana used all her self control to keep her voice steady.

"Have you met Emrys?" The man immediately shook his head no. "Then what do you know of… him?"

"O-only that I heard some druids speak of him: I stayed in their camp for awhile, that is. They seemed to believe he was some sort of special warlock. Ah yes, these two women were arguing over how powerful he really was, and then one brought up some sort of prophecy, I didn't catch that part though. Then there was this little boy, and he piped up claiming he had met him, Emrys that is. That's all, I swear!" The man's whiskered chin quivered, eyes pleading that Morgana believe him. Morgana calmed the icy fire burning in her own eyes long enough to stare into his. There was no lie there. She gave a curt nod and the man saged with relief.

"This boy... what did he look like?" Morgana's voice had changed, the undercurrent of fear was gone, replaced with cold cunning. The man scratched his balding head.

"I, uh, the boy was… he had dark, dark curly hair." The man paused, his recollection coming back to him. "Huh! It must have been close to eight years ago and I still remember; he had the most piercing blue eyes I've ever seen." Morgana couldn't suppress a sharp intake of breath. Could it be? Steely, she left the men. They watched her retreating figure until the night obscured it, then turned wide eyes back to the fire, shaken into silence.

Morgana collapsed onto her bed, trembling. There was no mistaking it. She also knew those eyes very well. They were the last things she had seen as she slumped onto the floor of the caverns beneath the fortress of Ismere, blood flowing out of a wound caused by the hand belonging to those same eyes. Betrayal had never stung so much since Uther... Uther. Morgana pressed her fingertips to her temples and massaged them with soothing circles. Taking a deep breath she mastered herself, pushing down the churning emotions that had threatened to emerge. Rùnar's letter still laid on the table beside her bed. She seized it, scanning the words hastily until a chilling smile grew on her face.

My Lady,

Today has brought better news than I dared hope for. If we are wise you stand to achieve more than you ever dreamed. As you read this plans are already in motion. In a week the Sarrum plans to set a trap for Arthur and his knights, that part of which I am responsible for. The Sarrum still has no suspicions towards me, and on the condition of my success I will be named Steward of Camelot. I assure you, Arthur will have no escape. Once he is imprisoned you will have an opportunity to exact your revenge. Then all that is left in our way to the throne of Camelot is the Sarrum.

Your loyal servant,

Rùnar

Morgana closed her eyes, and nearly wept from the emotions crashing over her. There was only one other druid she knew since Ruadan died and Sefa had fled, and already he was walking into a trap. Mordred. It seems I will indeed have my revenge.

The storm's brewing...

*A shire is a large horse with long hair around it's hooves.

mersan123: and Gingeraffealene I'm definitely planning some fun stuff for Merlin:) As for the Sarrum, I'm still not sure...