By oak and ash and thorn
We build the sacred fire
We dance until the morn, the smoke it rises higher
Study close the shadows, study close the flame
A voice from long ago may whisper your name
- Samhain Night, Jenna Greene
There was a chill in the air, even in the high-walled garden on the castle grounds that Guinevere had made her sanctuary. She was seldom bothered there, apart from the scullery maids when they came to pick herbs for the kitchens, but she was pleased to make conversation with those young girls, who blushed and stammered at the attention from their queen. They were too young to remember when she had been a servant, unlike the cook who still liked to chat away when Gwen visited the kitchens as if nothing had changed. Once, seeing the pile of dirty dishes, she had tied on an apron and started scrubbing away, which had scandalised the maids and caused to cook to let out a loud belly laugh.
Gwen pulled her cloak tighter as a cold breeze rustled her skirts. The stone bench beneath her was cold as well; she should not linger overlong lest she catch a chill. She placed a hand over her belly, so round now she'd needed new gowns made to accommodate it. The child was stirring, but she did not think it cold - in fact the child was like her own personal warming pan.
"You like the garden too," she said softly. "Don't you my darling?"
The roses were Camelot's pride and joy, with deep crimson petals and a sweet perfume. The royal gardener had already attended to the Autumn pruning although there were some still in bloom, and others had given way to bulbous red rosehips - no doubt Gaius would soon be visiting the garden to cultivate them for his remedies.
However it was the plot of wildflowers that gave her the most pleasure. Arthur had arranged for them to be planted for her in the flowerbed closest to the stone bench where she liked to sit. Cornflower, thistle, buttercup, yarrow, daisies, and - her favourite - gillyflowers.
When he'd presented them to her she'd laughed and said it was fitting.
"After all, people say I am the weed growing at the heart of Camelot." She wound her arms around his neck and laughed.
"No one says that," he scowled. "And if they do, they'll soon regret it."
"I do not mind." She lifted herself on her toes to kiss away his frown. "Weeds and wildflowers are hardy, and hard to displace once we take root."
"That is true." Arthur's fingertips trailed her cheek. "The one I've chosen is also very beautiful."
"As is the rose," she said coyly. "Although far more cultivated, where the wildflower grows free. Yet here they are, side by side."
"I'm a rose?" Arthur scrunched up his face in that way she found adorable. "Not very masculine, Guinevere."
She laughed; he was always too concerned with that. "The rose is the king of the garden," she argued, "does it not grow proud and strong, an example to and the envy of all others?"
"Hmn." Arthur was clearly unconvinced.
"Of course it has thorns," she added slyly, hands trailing down his arms. "So must be handled carefully."
"And you handle me, do you?" A smile spread across his face, threading his fingers through hers.
She laughed. "I-"
"My Lady?" A tentative voice interrupted her reverie, and she turned to see her most unwelcome guest was Sir Leon. Could she not have a few moments to herself to remember sweeter times? She wondered how long he'd been standing there unnoticed as she'd lost herself in memory, and why he'd intruded on her solitude when he surely knew better.
"What is it Leon?" she asked crossly.
"I am sorry to disturb you, but Lord Cartigern is here." Leon looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid he insists on an audience."
Gwen scowled. "Does he now."
"I will send him away."
"No," she sighed and rose to her feet, her anger cooling and duty reasserting itself. "Whatever he has to say, I might as well hear it now."
Leon nodded and retreated back into the castle, returning a few moments later with Lord Cartigern. He was a man in his early forties, short in stature but handsome enough, although his face seemed fixed in a perpetual glower. In truth, in temperament as well as physical resemblance, he reminded her of Uther, who had been his cousin.
"Madam." Cartigern gave a low bow, but the stiffness of his shoulders indicated he had been loathe to do so, and she did not miss his refusal to address her by her title.
"Lord Cartigern," she welcomed him warmly nonetheless. "I hope you are well. Have Lady Aratha and your children come to court?"
"Yes, thank you." His manner softened at her pleasantries, but only slightly. "It is my daughter Nella's first time - she has spoken of nothing else but seeing your Majesty."
Gwen smiled; a tiny victory. "I will be pleased to meet her, but I suspect that was not why you wanted to speak."
"No," Cartigern said, and glanced down at her belly. Gwen reflexively folded her hands over it.
"We all look forward to the birth of a Pendragon heir," he continued. "I trust you are well."
"I am very well," she confirmed, not liking the turn of the conversation one bit.
"Yes, of course." Cartigern nodded. "And I hope you continue to be so. But childbirth is an...uncertain endeavour. Why, look at poor Queen Ygraine. For the continued stability of the kingdom, it is imperative that there is no question as to the succession."
Gwen glared at him. "Should I die, you mean."
"My lord," Leon cut in, stepping forward. "I pray you, do not distress the Queen with such talk."
"It's alright," Gwen waved her hand. "Let him say what he has come to."
"I urge your Majesty to elect a Regent, being mindful of that unhappy - but very possible - outcome, to watch over the new prince until his majority. And of course, the next in line should the child…"
"I assume you wish nominate yourself?" Gwen cut straight to the point
"King Uther was my cousin you know," he puffed out his chest. "Pendragon blood flows through my veins."
His unspoken insinuation, of course, that it did not in hers. She glanced at Leon, who looked murderous at Cartigen's presumption. His hands began to fidget, and for a moment Gwen thought he would pull off a glove and cast it down at the lord's feet. But she wanted no duels fought for her honour, and shook her head at Leon.
"My lord," she turned back to Cartigern. "I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but I see no reason at present to expect the worst, or cause division by showing favour."
"I understand," Cartigern said through gritted teeth. "But surely, Madam, you can confirm - privately - your decision.
"I have made no decisions, but I can assure you were I to be called from this life, I will leave my son - and Camelot - in capable hands."
"But whose? There is no other with a better claim than I!" Cartigern took a step towards her, shadowed by Sir Leon, hand on the hilt of his sword.
But Gwen was not cowed, and held his dark gaze until he looked away. "Forgive me, Madam." He gave another low, but unconvincing bow. "Please believe I think only of the good of the kingdom."
He thankfully took his leave, and Gwen sank back down onto her bench. She hated court politics.
"Do you think that is anything to be concerned about?" she asked Leon.
"I'll keep an eye on him," he promised. "But I doubt he could muster up much support even if he were inclined to challenge you. Camelot is thriving under your rule, the people seem to have accepted the return of magic, and the lords have fallen in line."
"Yes, but it's still very early," she said, pressing a hand to her belly where the baby was kicking. "No one's lives have really changed, for most magic users fled Camelot long ago. The real test will be once they return, once the people must live beside them once again."
Leon nodded. "On that point my lady, I regret that there is still no response from the druids."
"They're afraid." Gwen winced at a particularly powerful kick. "They can't be sure that I am in earnest."
Leon cleared his throat. "I take it you now intend to follow through with your plan."
"Absolutely." Gwen nodded. "If they will not come to me, I will go to them."
"Let me come with you, my lady. Or send Merlin alone."
"No, I must make the case myself," she told him. "And I do not wish to frighten them with the presence of a knight of Camelot."
Leon was clearly not happy about it, but knew she would not be swayed. "When do you leave?"
"The day after tomorrow."
"But that's Samhain," Leon exclaimed.
"Exactly," she nodded. "Merlin says all the druids clans will be gathered together."
"But Gwen." So distressed, Leon forgot to use her title. "It's the first Samhain since Arthur's death, the Lord will be gathered to hear you make the speech of remembrance."
"As long as the wine flows freely I doubt the Lords will miss my presence." She smiled, trying to make light, but when she looked at Leon she saw he remained in anguish. She gestured for him to come and sit beside her, and put a hand on his arm.
"I do not mean to be flippant," she said. "I think it is important for the druids to know they are safe in my kingdom, and no longer need to hide their gifts."
He looked at her, clearly unconvinced. "May I speak freely my lady?"
"Of course," she squeezed his arm. "Always, Leon, you never have to ask."
Leon nodded, steeling himself nonetheless. "I think there is another reason you wish to avoid the Samhain feast. I think your grief is so strong it must be almost overwhelming, but that you work very, very hard not to let it show. I think you fear that speaking of Arthur in front of others will...be too much."
Gwen looked away and bit her lip. He was right, of course, she kept her grief and remembrance for when she was alone, always conscious that a king would not show sorrow or weep before his lords, and so nor could she.
"But you should know it will not make you seem weak," Leon pressed her. "We all share in your grief, and the lords will not think less of you for letting it show."
Thinking of Lord Cartigern, Gwen found she could not agree. In any case, she was determined to meet with the druids and invite them back to Camelot, for repealing the laws meant nothing if they were still afraid. Samhain was the best opportunity, and she could not let it pass her by.
Uther's chambers were always cold no matter how high the fires were lit, and Gwen suppressed a shiver as she entered.
The King sat near the window as he had every day for almost a year, staring out of it but seeing little and comprehending less. On the bad days he did not even acknowledge her presence as she brought him food, cleaned the chamber, and tried to keep him abreast of happenings at court
"Who is there?" He looked up as she crossed the room and Gwen was relieved - even on the good days he did not speak much, but it was better than they days he did not speak at all.
"Just me, Sire," she approached with a smile. "Guinevere."
Sometimes he recognised her, and sometimes he didn't, but in either case he never seemed to remember her name.
"Oh, girl." He turned back to his staring as she cleaned the dirty plates from the table beside his chair and replaced it with the food she brought.
"Some grouse, Sire." She tried to tempt him. "Arthur and the knights went out hunting yesterday."
Uther didn't respond so she went about her work, making the bed and sweeping the floor, telling him of the hunt as it had been related to her by Arthur. He ate his lunch listlessly, but that alone satisfied her since some days he consumed nothing at all.
She gathered the linens to be washed and deposited them in a basket by the door, then piled the dirty plates on the tray she'd brought with her. But she could never bear leaving him alone, for she had taken upon herself care of his person, not just his chambers, and so sat in the chair opposite to keep him company a while.
It was strange - Uther had given the order that killed her father, he'd sentenced her to death twice, had shown Arthur too little affection and tried to wring the compassion from his heart. He was also the man who, Gwen believed, had helped drive Morgana into the arms of evil.
Yet she did not hate him. Oh, she had no love for him either, the care she took of him was for Arthur's sake. But when she looked at Uther there was nothing of the ruthless king she had feared; he was an old man who tried to hold the world tight only to find it slip through his fingers.
Even if he had brought it all upon himself, it was so sad to see the life drained from him she couldn't feel anything but pity.
"Where is Arthur?" Uther's voice was flat and though he looked in her direction his gaze was unfocused.
"He was with the privy council this morning," Gwen leaned forward, pleased he was engaging with her. "And will be training with the knights this afternoon. But he'll come and see you later, I'm sure. He so enjoys spending time with you."
Uther's blanket slipped to the floor, so Gwen crouched down to wrap it around his legs again.
"And of course you would know." Uther's voice suddenly took on a hard edge.
"As well as anybody else," Gwen remained nonchalant, tucking the blanket around Uther's knees. "Everyone knows the love he bears you."
"Do you think I am blind?" Uther's gaze was fixed on her, no longer distant or distracted.
"Sire?" Gwen gasped as Uther grabbed her wrist and held it tightly. Gone was his blank expression, his eyes were blazing with anger and he was again the cruel, suspicious king.
"I am not a fool," he growled. "You have both been careless, you think I do not see."
His grip tightened and Gwen cried out, trying to wrench herself free. She imagined another stint in the dungeons, another pyre, another long night of tears.
"Do not worry, girl," he sneered. "I'm not going to have you banished or put to death."
He released her, and Gwen crumpled to the floor cradling her wrist. She looked up at him trying to stay her tears, unsure of what had set him off or how to deal with the return of the ruthless king.
"Sit." He pointed to the chair, and Gwen could only obey. "Do you deny that you have a tender regard for my son?"
Gwen shook her head, seeing it was pointless to do otherwise.
"And he returns your affections?"
"Yes, he does." She raised her chin defiantly - let him have the truth, she would accept the consequences.
Uther sighed and leaned back in his chair, regarding her as if she was a problem of state. If Gwen wasn't in fear for her life, she would have found it amusing that the one thing that could rouse the King from his stupor would be her relationship with Arthur.
"You may not believe it, girl," he said, "but I have a care for my son's happiness. And I have seen the love he has for you, so I will not object."
Gwen was in shock; had his addled mind softened towards the match, could he finally be persuaded to accept her? But her hope came too soon and was quickly dashed.
"He will never have you to wife of course," he told her. "He knows his duty. Content yourself with remaining his mistress, and I hope he has much joy of you."
"I am not his mistresses," she protested.
Uther laughed, the first time he had done so in months. "Since when are Camelot's serving girls concerned with their virtue?" he said with much mirth. "Come now, let us be honest with each other. A royal mistress is not without influence - Arthur seeks your council, I have seen it. I simply wish to ensure that you give him the correct advice."
"I speak my mind," Gwen looked down at her hands. "That is all."
"Look at me."
She drew her eyes back up at his command, his fierce gaze holding her own and his was again every inch the conqueror.
"Arthur must never allow magic to return to Camelot," Uther said. "He has a soft heart, and has always been too lenient to those accused of sorcery, too willing to find excuses. But he cannot rule that way."
"I think he values justice," Gwen challenged him. "And does not see the value of condemning men without cause."
Uther scoffed. "Use of magic is cause enough for condemnation."
"But what of those who use it for good?" Gwen knew she was treading on thin ice threatening to crack beneath her feet at any moment, but pressed on. "Or those who cannot help they have it, like Mor-"
"Do not speak her name!" Uther thundered, rising to his feet, and for a moment she thought he was going to strike her. Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time. But as quickly as his anger had come it drained away, and Uther sank back into his chair.
"Morgana," he moaned pitifully. "How could she have turned against me?"
"I was her maid for a long time Sire." Gwen was certain he wasn't actually seeking an answer, but she was going to give it to him. "She had terrible dreams of the future, she could not stop them, could not rid herself of the magic she possessed. She loved you, but feared you - and what you would do if you discovered her secret. I do not believe she turned against you so much as against your laws."
"No, no," Uther shook his head. She could see his reason and lucidity fading, slowly falling back into that lifeless void. "It wasn't my fault, it wasn't my fault."
Gwen felt a surge of pity despite herself. She gathered the blankets around him again, and with her handkerchief wiped the tears from his eyes.
But then he grabbed her wrist again, his eyes wild. "Magic is evil, it corrupts even the sweetest. Arthur must never allow it to return to Camelot - promise me you'll use your influence to ensure it."
"Sire…"
"Promise me!"
She woke with a start, finding herself not in Uther's chamber, but leaning against a tree in the forest, grass soft beneath her skirts. It was late afternoon, and Merlin was by the fire scrubbing a stewpot that had held their earlier meal.
"Are you alright, Gwen?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, I must have dozed off." She put a hand to her cheek; she was flushed. "Do we need to get going?"
"We can stay a while longer," Merlin said, looking up at the sky. "The druids will start their ritual at sundown, and we shouldn't intrude on that."
Gwen was relieved, she would need time to collect herself before meeting the druids, especially after that unnerving vision.
"Are you alright?" Merlin asked again.
"I was dreaming." She looked away. "A memory, really. About Uther."
"Ah."
She hadn't promised him anything, she'd been saved by the appearance of Gaius and fled the room. She hadn't told Arthur either, just bandaged her wrist and said she'd fallen from her horse when he'd shown concern. Uther had never been so lucid again, nor shown any sign that he knew of her feelings for Arthur or expected her to advise him against magic. Still, his words echoed in her mind.
Had Morgana been corrupted? Even then, when she'd had no love for sorcery, she'd dismissed it as the ravings of an ill man, unable to accept responsibility for his own actions so he cast blame everywhere else. But with everything she'd learned...
It certainly hadn't corrupted Merlin. Gwen looked over with a smile as he scrubbed the pot and whistled to himself. But perhaps Merlin was the exception, his strength of character and the good influence from Gaius of how to channel his powers had saved him from Morgana's fate. What of others without such fortitude, what if she was inviting calamity into her kingdom?
"Are we doing the right thing Merlin?" she asked, needing his reassurance.
"The right thing? Of course," he looked up from his pot and grinned. "The smart thing, I'm not so sure."
He thought she'd meant walking into a druid's grove. "I thought you said the druids were peaceful?"
"They are." Merlin assured her. "But we are interrupting their celebrations, so we should be mindful of that."
"But who are they exactly?" No one had ever explained it to her. "Are all sorcerers druids?"
"Ah.." Merlin put down his work. "It's hard to explain. The druids are a caste of magic users. There are some who say they were the first people of Albion, before the conquerors and the castle builders, before there were roads and kingdoms and kings."
Gwen leaned back against the tree, struck by how regal he looked, the softness yet assurity in his voice, the grace of his bearing as he spoke of his heritage.
"Those who call themselves druids still live by the ancient laws, but there are many with magic who don't identify that way."
"Like you."
Merlin shrugged. "I think if you grow up as a druid that's all you know - I always had magic, but my mother raised me like any other village boy. Druid, warlock, sorceror, dragonlord - what people call me doesn't really mean anything, it's what I can do that matters."
"I hope they feel the same about me," Gwen said. "And don't blame me for Uther's mistakes."
"Or mine." Merlin was suddenly nervous, twining his hands together. "They may see me as a traitor, someone who turned my back on my own people to fight for those who oppressed them. Maybe they're right."
"If they're wise, they'll see you only ever did what you thought was for the best," Gwen argued. "After all, they did not fight for Morgana."
"No." Merlin grimaced. "They saw her for what she was."
Gwen bit her lip, thinking of her sweet friend with whom she used to share confidences, who treated her with kindness and respect, like a companion rather than a maid.
"My dream of Uther," she said, "it was when he told me Morgana had been corrupted by magic. Why would that memory come to me now?"
Merlin moved from his place by the fire, and she shifted so he could sit next to her against the tree. "It's Samhain," he said. "The veil between the worlds is thin tonight, and so we may feel impressions from the other side."
Gwen shivered at the thought of Uther's spirit invading her dreams.
"But don't worry," Merlin added, nudging her with her elbow. "They can't get through...barring any human sacrifice at the Isle of the Blessed of course."
"That's not funny." Gwen tried not to think of those terrible days when spectres haunted the streets of Camelot - when Lancelot had given himself to the other side.
"Maybe you have some doubts." Merlin was serious again, and spoke haltingly. "About the return of magic."
"I suppose…" Gwen sighed, her heart aching with an old wound. "I still don't understand how Morgana could change so much. I thought we had a bond, that she cared for me as much as I did for her." She blinked back tears and took a shaky breath. "She defended my father when he was falsely accused, stood up to Uther on my behalf more than once. What happened to turn her heart against me, what did I do?"
"Nothing," Merlin assured her. "You were in her way, that's all."
She remembered the first time Morgana had claimed the throne of Camelot, promising that no harm would come to her if Gwen stayed loyal. If she had never loved Arthur, never threatened what Morgana saw as her rightful place as Queen, would things have been different?
"But that's it." Gwen turned to him, distressed. "The Morgana I knew wouldn't have cared about that."
"She was corrupted," Merlin agreed, putting an arm around her. "But not by magic - by her own resentment and anger. It consumed her, she looked at Uther and didn't see her father, only a man who denied everything that she was, so she decided to take it for herself. Her hatred for Uther was stronger than her love for you or Arthur."
"But she was so kind, so generous." She couldn't hold them back any longer, tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "Did I never know her at all?"
"Who knows what Morgause did to help turn her mind against us is that year she was away from Camelot." Merlin's expression darkened. "I blame myself for that."
"It's not your fault."
"I poisoned her, Gwen." Merlin turned to her, pained. "When Camelot was overtaken by the sleeping sickness. She was the source, and it was the only way to stop the knights of the dead."
Gwen stared at him open-mouthed, unable to properly process the new information. He had known all the way back then of Morgana's dark intent and never warned them? But how could he, she reasoned, without revealing how he knew, and with no idea whether he would be believed.
"That was the moment, I think," Merlin said, his voice cracking. "The point of no return. Up until then I think I could have gotten through to Morgana, if I'd told her who I was, shown her there was someone else to turn to other than Morgause. Maybe if I had, everything else would have been different."
Gwen lay her head on his shoulder so he would know she wouldn't pull away, that she would accept him, no matter what he told her.
"All these burdens Merlin," she said softly. "I can't imagine how you carried them."
"I thought of Arthur." His arm tightened around her. "And you. And the world I hoped we'd build together. That was Morgana's failing - Camelot was just a prize for her, not a kingdom. She wanted to be its Queen because she felt entitled to the crown, not because she wanted to serve the people. And when they did not worship her, she burnt their crops and executed dissenters. Magic was just a means to an end, a power she didn't want to share. That's why she relied on warlords and invaders to make up her army - few magic users actually joined her cause."
"Except Mordred." His betrayal still stung; Gwen had been fond of the young man, had trusted him, favoured him, supported his advancement, and yet it had been by his sword that Arthur had been slain. "He was a druid."
Merlin didn't answer - he'd told her about Mordred, and the prophecy, and how everything he'd done to try and stop it had only ensured it had been fulfilled. She knew his guilt was so great, and as much as she had tried to convince him otherwise, it still hung heavily on him.
She hoped that with the return of magic and reconciliation with the druids, he would find his absolution.
The Samhain feast was as glorious as ever, and Sir Ector happily helped himself to another plate of roast boar. The celebrations had started with a sombre mood, the Queen not in attendance but Sir Leon giving a rather moving speech of remembrance on her behalf. It had made Ector rather emotional thinking of poor Arthur - the boy's life had been snatched far too soon.
But after the speech the revelry had taken hold as the wine flowed freely; in Camelot there was no greater way to honour those gone than to feast and be merry.
"Ah, Sir Ector." Lord Cartigern took a seat and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you."
"And you my lord." Ector had wondered whether Cartigern had decided not to attend the feast, but evidently he had merely been late. "I'm afraid you missed Sir Leon's speech."
Cartigern scanned the room over the rim of his goblet. "Is the Queen to grace us with her presence?"
"No, apparently she has taken to her bed, the grief too much for her." Ector clucked his tongue. "Poor thing."
Cartigern grunted and took another sip of his wine. "My daughter was so looking forward to meeting her." He nodded towards the other side of the room, where a skinny, despondent thirteen year old was picking at her chicken leg.
"I'm sure she will get the chance," Ector assured him. "Are you staying at court for a while?"
"I feel I must," Cartigern nodded and leaned in. "I will tell you something, Ector, since I believe you are of like mind. I have grave concerns that the Queen's rule, particularly the return of magic."
Ector glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "I admit I do not agree with some of her decisions. But she is the Queen."
Certigern snorted and waved his hand. "Can you believe it - a peasant and a sorceror ruling Camelot?"
"It is unexpected," Ector rejoined somewhat weakly. He had grave concerns about Merlin and his influence, he'd made no secret of that.
"But Arthur bequeathed the kingdom to Guinevere," he added, as he had told himself many times. "It is not right to question her rule without cause. If the kingdom suffers because of magic once more, I have no doubt she will our listen to our council and reinstate the ban."
"No, we should act now," Cartigern leaned forward, wine sloshing out of his goblet. "She is vulnerable, with no blood claim to the throne and ripe for a challenge. But once the bitch has whelped, her power will be secured."
Ector's mouth dropped open at his vulgar words, his hand automatically going to the hilt of his sword. He should call the man out, but Cartigern was higher than him in rank, and clearly in his cups.
"My lord, you dishour the Queen so?" he accused, but it was weak even to his own ears.
Cartigern put down his goblet. "You are right, it is not her fault she was elevated to a role for which she is unsuited. It is that sorceror, he has undue influence over her."
"Merlin did save us all at Camlann," Ector pointed out, although he had to admit that much raw power frightened him.
"Yet he did not save the King." Cartigern huffed. "He played the fool for years - to this day he calls me Lord Cardigan."
Ector suppressed a smile. "The impudence."
"Who is to say that the child Guinevere carries is even the King's?"
"My lord, you go too far." Ector was shocked by the accusation, looking around again. He saw Sir Bedivere approach; the oldest of the knights of Camelot and staunch in his opposition to the Queen's measures. He often argued with her in council and pressed her to reconsider her stance on magic but so far had been unsuccessful.
"Sir Bedivere," Carigern greeted and beckoned him closer. "We were discussing the future of the kingdom."
"I fear for it," Bedivere admitted. "But the Queen is adamant, so I can only hope she is correct."
"There is more we can do," Cartigern said in a low voice. "Much more"
"What are you suggesting?" Bedivere looked wary, but curious.
Cartigern gave a sly smile and refilled his goblet as well as Ector's and Bedivere's. "Simply that there are...alternatives." He took a long sip of wine. "Otherwise where does the current path lead? The continued elevation of peasants and druids with no regard to birth and lineage? What of your son, Ector?" he pressed. "Will young Kay be squire to a sorcerer knight?"
It was indeed a frightening thought - his son was merely ten and desperately wanted to become a knight. Ector had fought alongside commoners, sat beside them at the round table, and had come to respect them as good and capable men he would trust with his life. But could he ever depend that way on a sorceror, could those with magic ever truly be trusted to defend the kingdom?
"I am of Pendragon blood," Cartigern reminded them. "I would see this kingdom returned to the glory of my cousin's reign."
"This talk is bordering on treasonous," Bevidere's voice was sharp, and he stared Cartigern down. "I can only blame the drink and take my leave. I advise you not to persist with such foolish talk, or I will speak to the Queen about it."
He gave Ector a look which clearly indicated he should make the same condemnation, before turning on one heel and stalking away. Cartigern was clearly disappointed, but Ector knew that Bedivere's loyalty was to Camelot, and his honour would not allow him to question an anointed queen, especially when she was to bear Arthur's child in a few short months.
If indeed that was the case. Ector found himself torn - he liked Guinevere and would never believe it of her. But Merlin...he had hidden his magic for years, who knew what schemes he had concocted, what other laws he would have the Queen implement?
"It is treason," Ector said, unsure. "We should not speak further."
"I understand, you are hesitant," Cartigern clapped him on the shoulder. "Plans are in motion, and no doubt you will hear of them soon. Then perhaps, you may be willing to give me your support."
"What do you mean?"
Cartigern smiled and took another sip of wine. "You will see, my friend."
Merlin could sense them from miles off; the great gathering of the druid clans for Samhain cast strong ripples of magic throughout the forest. It was dark, but they could see the fires lit as they made their approach on foot, lighting up the treescape with a warm yellow glow.
There was singing in the old tongue, pleasant to the ear as they called the spirits from beyond the veil, asking for their blessings. Beside him Gwen was nervous, so he took her hand and squeezed it gently as they walked into the druid's grove.
There were women dancing around the fires, who eyed them as they passed but did not cease their song. In fact all of the druids seemed to take note of their presence but made no move to either welcome or rebuff them.
Merlin led Gwen through the camp until they reached the shrine at the heart of the grove; a tall stone monolith with a carved triskelion. A cluster of hooded druids knelt before the shrine, arms upheld as they sang. Merlin hadn't expected the ritual to still be going, and wondered whether the druids had known they were coming and had deliberately lingered.
Eventually the song ended, and the druids rose to their feet, turned around and removed their hoods. Merlin was unsurprised to see Iseldir in the centre as High Priest, and a little bit thankful since they'd always been on good terms, even if he hadn't seen the man since before the birth of Aithusa.
"Emrys," Iseldir greeted him. "It is good to see you again."
"And you, Iseldir." Merlin nodded. "I've brought with me Queen Guinevere of Camelot."
There were murmurings in the crowd, and as Merlin glanced behind him he saw all the druids had come from their fires to gather around them at the shrine.
"Queen Guinevere." Iseldir held out his hand. "Please, come forward. You are welcome here."
Gwen took a deep breath and stepped into the light cast by the fire. Although she wore a simple travelling gown and no adornment, she looked every inch a queen. Only Merlin could see her nerves in the way she clasped her hands tightly before her, and the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.
"You have not answered any of my messages," she began in a clear voice, so all could hear. "So I have come to tell you in person that I have repealed the laws against magic in Camelot. You may practice your gifts throughout the kingdom without fear of arrest or censure."
Iseldir regarded her for a few moments. "So we have heard. I am sure you have good intentions my lady, but you can appreciate that almost thirty years of persecution have made us wary."
"Of course," she nodded. "That's why I have come, to impress upon you my conviction in this matter. I will see magic restored."
"How can we believe you?" asked the druid beside Iseldir; Merlin thought her name was Valeda. "Your husband executed our people the same as his father."
"That's not true," Gwen protested, taking a step towards her. "Arthur believed you to be a peaceful people - it is true he kept magic outlawed, but he never executed anyone unless they committed crimes against another person or the kingdom."
"Camelot started the war between us," Valeda pointed out. "Do you blame some of us for fighting back?"
Merlin wanted to speak up and help her, but knew she needed to make the case herself. He saw her bite her lower lip - she was unnerved - but kept her resolve.
"Valeda is right!" A young man pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "No blame can lie with the boar who gores the hunter, and so we had every right to seek the death of Camelot's kings - including the one she carries!"
Gwen lay a protective hand on her belly, and Merlin stepped in front of her, arms raised just in case.
"Lochru, you do not speak for us." Valeda fixed him with a glare. "We do not condone violence, especially against the innocent."
"But why should we listen to them?" Lochru continued with passion, and a few in the crowd called out their agreement. "They stood with tyrants and oppressors! The woman perhaps I can excuse, she didn't know any better. But Emrys!" He pointed an accusing finger. "You were meant to be our champion, but you valued the comforts of your castle over your own people."
"Hey, I served a king, I didn't live like one," Merlin defended himself. "Scrubbing pots and cleaning armour isn't exactly a life of luxury."
"It was better than what many of us endured," Lochru said darkly. Merlin was about to protest, but Gwen stepped forward.
"Enough," she said, holding up her hands. Then she turned to the crowd gathered behind them, raising her voice to speak to them all.
"I cannot deny that wrong was done to you," she said, "just as I am sure you would not deny that wrong was done in return. I myself have been hurt more times than I can count. I have been enchanted, and attacked, and grievously wounded by magic and those who wield it. I have been violated, my mind invaded and my free will stolen from me, I have as much reason to hate magic as anyone."
Gwen held her head high, but her eyes were bright and her voice trembled with emotion.
"So what should we do?" she asked the crowd, and turned to Lochru. "Hold onto grudges. More bloodshed, more families ripped apart, more executions, more revenge plots? Will the wheel continue to turn, sometimes in our favour and sometimes in yours, but the only certainty being that we will all be crushed by it the end?"
The crowd was silent, captured by her speech, and Merlin could see that she was getting through to them.
"Or should we try to build a better future together?" Gwen lay her hands on her rounded belly. "I want my child to know a world where the old ways and the new are both honoured and respected, where we can all live together in friendship and prosperity." She turned back to the druid council. "I'm sure you want the same."
"You speak well my lady." Valeda gave her an approving look. "The Triple Goddess smiles on you."
"This is a trick!" Lochru was angry and approached the council. "Her kingdom is weak without a king on the throne. She seeks to make an army of us to fight their wars, do not be fooled!"
"I ask no such thing," Gwen told them. "I do not expect any of you to fight for Camelot. I know it is time that Camelot fought for you."
"Words are free, my lady," Lochru cast her a suspicious glance. "It costs you nothing to say them, and so they have no worth."
Gwen regarded him for a moment, and then gave him a charming smile. "Well I hope in time, I can prove it to you by my conduct."
"Emrys?" Iseldir called to him. "You are very quiet."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Melin ducked his head and stepped forward. "When Gwen speaks so well?"
"Do not be so modest." Valeda smiled at him. "You have made this possible."
Merlin shrugged; he wasn't sure about that. "I know I've made mistakes," he said, thinking of all the druids who had sought his help, trusted him, and the many he'd failed. "I haven't lived up to the faith your people placed in me. But I'm trying to fix that now."
Iseldir stepped forward and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "That is all we can ask of anyone." He turned to Gwen and smiled. "Thank you for coming, my lady. I do not know if any of us will wish to return to Camelot, but if they do they will be fortunate to have you for a queen."
Gwen smiled and sighed with obvious relief. "Thank you."
Valeda approached and touched two fingers to Gwen's forehead and cheeks, speaking a blessing in the old tongue.
"It's almost midnight," she told her. "The veil is thin." She stretched out her hand towards the dark forest beyond the druid's fires. "If you are brave, you will find what you seek in there."
Merlin could feel it too, the whisper of the other world. Gwen looked to him, determined, but he could sense her fear as well. He held out his hand and she grasped it gratefully. Together, they walked into the woods as the druids raised their voices in song once more.
It wasn't long before they were in almost complete darkness, the trees so thick that the light of the moon above could not penetrate. He heard Gwen's quick, nervous breaths beside him, and held her hand tight as he led them deeper into the woods.
It was beautiful; he could sense the world they inhabited, the trees, the ground beneath their feet, the rustle of leaves, even the bugs burrowing in the earth below and birds roosting above. Yet he could also feel the world beyond; the spirits of those who had passed as lively and full as if they stood beside him.
He saw his father - not as clear as his spirit had been in the crystal cave, but nonetheless it was Balinor, smiling proudly and showing him the way. Merlin had been worried that Arthur would be out of reach in Avalon, too far beyond the veil and cloaked in Sidhe magic.
But there he was, tall and proud and waiting for them.
Gwen stumbled beside him, and he caught her arm with his free hand. She looked frightened, unsure of whether to keep going.
"Gwen, it's Arthur." He turned her slightly to face the spirit directly, but Gwen looked around wildly.
"Where?" she asked with distress. "I cannot see."
She didn't have magic, he realised. But surely, the druids would not have sent her only to be disappointed?
"Can you feel him?" Merlin asked, leading her towards Arthur's spirit. He seemed stuck where he was, but his face was full of affection and longing and he held out his arms for them.
"Guinevere." He spoke her name, but she didn't react.
"Did you hear that?" Merlin pressed, trying to hurry her along but she seemed strangely reluctant.
"No." She shook her head, almost in tears. "But there's something else, there's…"
Merlin felt the rush of dark energy too late, he could only cry out as Gwen's hand was wrenched from his own and she disappeared into the darkness.
It was like the Dark Tower, only worse, for she could see nothing at all as she stumbled about, trying to find sure footing in the endless forest.
"Merlin!" she called, flailing about in the dark trying to find his hand again. Then, with a pitiful cry; "Arthur?"
Merlin had said he was there, but Gwen had not been able to see or feel him. Instead there had only been a shroud of darkness, a feeling so foul and bitter it had clouded everything else.
Lost in the wood she felt it again, and recognised it with sickening clarity; the same unease she'd felt in Camelot with the banging of windows, the snuffing of candles, and the ghostly power pulling her across the cold stone floor.
Uther.
She could not see him, but he was there, a cold, looming presence drawing closer. And lingering on the periphery was a darker spirit, with more sinister intent.
You did not heed me, girl.
She heard Uther's voice in her mind, and icy, spindly fingers grasping her shoulder and pushing her into her knees in the mud.
"My name is Guinevere!" she cried back into the darkness with all the strength she could muster.
Your name is destroyer; craven witch; common whore.
"No!" Gwen lifted her hands to shield herself, but cold hands closed around her throat and squeezed, cutting off her scream. She clawed at them but found no purchase, there was nothing there.
And yet she felt it, crushing her windpipe, cutting off her air, and heard a high, mocking laugh.
Not such a queen now, are you Gwen?
It was Morgana, the dark spirit drawing closer, her voice reverberating through Guinevere's mind.
But then you never were. You wear fine gowns and a stolen crown, but you are nothing.
Gwen struggled, but Morgana held her arms while Uther choked the life out of her - finally finding a common cause in destroying the one person they hated more than each other. She could feel herself slipping away, falling into the abyss, and within her the child stirred in protest.
No!
She screamed in her mind, not about to succumb to their hate - for her love was stronger. With all her might and inner strength, Gwen pushed back against the veil, breaking the spirit's hold. Uther let out a screech, but Morgana just laughed as Gwen ran wildly through the dark.
You cannot escape. We are all around you.
She was right, as Gwen scrambled through the woods she still felt them as powerful as ever, the sharp voices of the past swirling in her mind, their ghostly hands clawing at her clothes.
Her father consorted with sorcerors
It's not what you've done it's what you're going to do
What could a man like my son possibly see in someone like you?
I will show you no mercy
I would rather die a thousand deaths than to see her on my throne
I sentence you to death
Then she heard the swing of a sword and a battle cry, breaking their grip on her. Gwen stumbled and fell to the ground but her protector stood above as a beacon of light, driving Uther and Morgana back, their cries and curses fading into the darkness.
"Arthur?" She peered at the light but it had no form.
No Gwen. It's me.
"Lancelot?" She pulled herself to her feet. "Is it really you, or…" But the light drew closer, and Gwen could feel it was the Lancelot she'd known, not the shade Morgana had created.
I'm sorry Gwen. I can't bear that my body was used to hurt you.
"No I'm sorry." She started to cry. "There's so much I want to say to you."
I know, but you don't have time. You must leave this place, I will show you the way.
She felt a light tug on her hand, and she followed the light through the maze of darkness until she heard faint voices in the distance.
"Gwen?" It was Merlin, loudly crashing through the undergrowth searching for her. And then -
Guinevere.
"Arthur?" she began to sob in earnest, so relieved to finally hear his voice. The light beside her began to fade.
"No - Lancelot, don't leave us again."
I must. This is as it should be.
The light touched her; the briefest brush against her hand and kiss to her cheek before it disappeared.
In darkness again, Gwen moved forward slowly, holding her arms out before her. She heard Merlin's voice but he seemed far away, perhaps as lost as she.
"Merlin?" she called out. "I'm here!"
Guinevere.
She gasped as ghostly arms folded around her, as warm and secure as they had been in life. Spectral lips brushed her temple, and she pressed her face into the chest she could feel but could notnot see, sobbing with relief.
It's alright. I'm here.
"I miss you so much," she cried. "I cannot be without you, it's too hard."
Yes you can, and you must. For our child's sake Guinevere.
"So you know?" She held him tighter. "You can see us from beyond the veil?"
Sometimes. Enough to see how well you're doing.
"I wish I could see you." She looked up, trying to see his face unobscured by the veil but there was only darkness.
I know. But I'm there, Guinevere, I'm always with you. Not even death could drive me from your heart.
His arms tightened around her and she knew that time was running out, that she would have to return to the world of the living from the inbetween, and all she could do was cherish the few remaining moments
I'm so proud of you. Both of you.
Gwen felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see that Merlin had found them. He'd been crying too, from happiness or sorrow or both, and Gwen felt Arthur shift slightly to pull him into their embrace.
In the darkness the three held each other close; Camelot's triskelion that persisted across the veil, from the world of the living to the world beyond, once, future, and forever.