No coward soul is mine

No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere

I see Heaven's glories shine

And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear

No coward soul is mine, Emily Bronte

The courtyard was a hive of activity, grooms preparing the horses, knights in their scarlet capes making final preparations and farewelling loved ones, enlisted men obtaining their assigned weapons from the armory, and squires rushing about to fill the wagons with travelling chests and food supplies.

It was the latter that drew Sir Ector's attention, looking for his son's distinctive ginger hair among the throng of people. He found Kay by a grey mule, diligently packing its saddlebags while chatting away to the animal, and as Ector drew closer he could hear that his son was in fact boasting of his battle prowess, assuring it that he would slay at least a dozen of Odin's men.

"Kay." Ector lightly touched his son's shoulder, and he turned around sheepishly at being overheard.

"A mule's easier to pack if you talk to him," Kay said in explanation, his ears bright red.

"Hm." Ector hid his amusement. "Remember your responsibility is to assist Sir Gareth so he may slay Odin's men."

Kay turned his attention back to the saddle. "It's my duty to protect him - and if he falls, I must take his place on the field."

Ector grasped his son's shoulder and pulled him back around."Do not be so eager to die, my son."

Kay squared his jaw. "I will not die," he said, with all the confidence of youth. "And I am not afraid."

It was obvious there was nothing that would convince him otherwise, nothing that would sway him to exercise caution - Ector had been the same before his first battle. Only a squire himself when Uther had made his conquest of Camelot, he'd learned that day the bitter sting of loss that came even with victory. He should have died himself that day, but the knight he'd served had been his own father, abandoning his opponent to save Ector who'd been knocked to the ground, slaying the enemy who'd held his sword aloft ready to strike. That was when another sword pierced his father's heart; Ector would never forget the wide eyed look, the mouth drop open in surprise as time slowed for one eternal moment fixed forever in his mind.

He had never been able to avenge him, the killer moving instantly to the next fight, and his father's lifeless body falling on Ector, pinning him to the ground. It wasn't until hours later, when the battle was well over and they came to collect the dead for burial that they'd found him, barely able to breathe under the weight of the body and armour, clothes soaked with tears and blood.

It had been Lord Cartigern - himself only recently knighted - who'd discovered him, and sat by his side afterwards; Ector had been so touched that he'd shown sympathy to a boy when he could have been celebrating the victory. The King's cousin no less, showing him compassion and favour.

But Ector would not be by his son's side at the battle to protect him as his own father had - Sir Gareth was assigned to the companies headed to Mercia, while Ector was to remain with the Queen's personal guard. It could be the last time he would ever see Kay.

He grasped his son by the shoulders, but found himself without words - how could he express his fears when they were the same as every father in the kingdom?

"I will make you proud father," Kay said with a smile. "We will win, I know it."

Ector simply embraced him tightly so the boy could not see the agony on his face, the fear, the uncertainty. Having seen the battle plans and knowing how heavily they were outnumbered, he could not feel the same.

"Tell the Queen, will you?" Kay said as he pulled away. "We fight for her, every one of us."

"And the sorcerer?" Ector asked, seeing that he was there across the courtyard - watching. "It's for his sake we're going to war."

"Not on that again are you?" Kay rolled his eyes and went back to packing the mule. "He's fighting with us, and he's a good man so don't give me another speech about the purges and the evils of magic."

Ector looked over again, and this time Merlin caught his eye, giving him a tight smile and a nod of recognition. Would Kay's opinion change if he knew the sorcerer had been following his father's every move, suspecting him of treason and trying his best to prove it? But he'd found nothing - Ector had stayed away from Cartigern for that very reason and yet Merlin still watched, still doubted.

But what would Kay think, knowing his father was aware of treasonous activity and had not reported it? He was young, he cared not a whit for Uther's memory, and like his contemporaries had known only Arthur's good grace and tolerance, near worshipped the kind, beautiful queen who had succeeded him, and saw Merlin as a loyal, powerful asset to the kingdom.

"I'll see you again, Father." Kay put a hand on his arm and squeezed. "I promise."

With that, he led the mule away, and Ector's gaze followed the boy to the other side of the courtyard where a groom was holding two horses. Kay conversed with him, sharing some joke or another as he tied a rope from the mule's harness to the saddle of the smaller horse. His son had such an easy way with others, highborn or low, and it tore at his heart to think of such a light snuffed from the world.

"No, Kay," Ector said softly. "I promise."

Guinevere watched the departing army from the parapet, almost sick at the thought that this time it was by her order that they would fight and perhaps die in defence of Camelot. Every life weighed upon her conscience, even though she believed she had made the right decision - her council had agreed, and in all the nightly discussions with Merlin they had not come up with a better solution.

But seeing the men ride away was quite different from making plans, and she sought out Leon at the head of the army, his figure tall and proud on horseback, but gradually growing smaller as they rode to meet the horizon. He was her first knight and greatest champion; no one else had seen so many victories or survived so many battles.

Percival rode next to him, her other trusted friend and fiercest warrior. He and Leon had fought side by side for years, and had cleaved even closer together since Camlann, the only two knights remaining from Arthur's inner circle.

But at the end of the road they parted ways, and the army split in two - half following Leon up the North Road towards Mercia, and the rest under Percival's command headed to Essetir. Behind the scarlet cloaks of Camelot's knights were the yellow and black of Gwant, Elena riding proudly at the head in chainmail and armour, and Mithian in her white fur cloak and gold crown leading her knights under a dark green standard.

They too split at the end of the road, Mithian to Mercia and Elena to Essetir - to be joined by Annis' forces who were marching directly from Caerleon. Gwen bit her lip to quell her tears, wishing she could be leading Camelot's forces instead of being left behind once again - she should be riding beside her friends and sister queens, not sending them out to fight on her behalf.

"Your Majesty?"

Gwen turned to see Sir Ector hovering at the edge of the parapet, and she beckoned him closer. He gave a sweeping bow, and then followed her gaze to the retreating army.

"I hope I do not intrude, my Lady," he said softly. "It is a difficult day for all of us left behind."

Gwen turned to him with a sad smile. "I've had enough practice at it."

"It is a new experience for me," Ector said with a grimace. "My son...it will be his first battle."

"Of course." Gwen put a hand on his arm - despite her own longing she must not forget those who were also watching loved ones ride away, perhaps never to return. "You did not wish to go with him?"

A muscle in Ector's cheek twitched. "I was ordered to remain here to protect Camelot my Lady," he said stiffly, "and it is my honour to do so."

But Gwen could see that it was not his choice, how desperately he wanted to be with the army heading to Essetir, and her heart ached for him.

"You should have come to me and asked to be assigned with him," she said, squeezing his forearm lightly. "I would have seen to it."

Ector looked out to the horizon where the knights had become a blurry sea of red, yellow, and green. "It was Sir Leon's decision, and it is not my place to question it."

"I see." Gwen withdrew her hand. "I'm sure he felt it was for the best."

She knew little of battle strategy, other than what she had gleaned from Arthur over the years, and trusted Leon's judgement. Perhaps it was unwise for a father to fight beside his son, and she didn't want to undermine Leon's authority with the knights.

"You are kind to offer, my Lady." Ector turned back to her with a warm smile.

"I know how you must feel," she told him. "I watched Arthur ride off to battle more times than I can count, but it never got any easier."

"He would be proud of you, my Lady." Ector took a step closer to her, his voice soft. "Of the courage you have shown."

Gwen saw no deception behind his gaze, and could not credit Merlin's suspicion. His manner was open and seemed honest, with an almost fatherly affection, his concern and regard for her clear. But she had been deceived before, taken in by an apparent good nature - Agravaine had flattered and praised her, and she had not seen the malice behind his words until it was too late.

"My son-" Ector stumbled over the word, cheek twitching again, "he said to tell you that the men fight for you, and he is sure that we will win."

Gwen was touched, and thought surely he must be in earnest, that in the past years she'd learned to spot ill intent behind soft words and easy manner.

"Then he is a credit to you," she said, clasping her hands and taking a deep breath. "Merlin fears that not all my men are so loyal."

There was a crack in Ector's contenance. "A sorcerer sees treachery everywhere," he said, looping his thumbs into his belt. "It's second nature to them."

Gwen gave him a look of reproach. "That's not true."

"Yet he deceived you," Ector argued, "hid his magic for years - if there are questions of loyalty…"

"I trust him more than anyone else," Gwen cut him off, raising a hand to quell any further argument.

Ector ducked his head, taking a step back. "Of course, my Lady. I spoke out of turn."

Gwen sighed - she knew old prejudices were hard to overcome, and it took time for trust to build. But it was clearly a pressure point for Ector, who had served under Uther at the height of his anti-magic crusade, and had witnessed firsthand the destruction and death in retaliatory attacks by sorcerers. But he'd served Arthur too, and if she could not place her trust in his knights, what kind of queen was she? How could she demand their trust in return?

Any further discussion was forestalled by the appearance of a messenger in red livery, and as he walked purposefully towards them Gwen saw it was Bryn - a valet in the service of Lord Cartigern who often accompanied Nella around the castle, since her father did not like her wandering alone.

"Your Majesty," he bowed. "Your presence is requested in the audience chamber."

"Oh?" She had temporarily suspended all public audiences, and had no desire to meet with Cartigern or the other lords. "What does your master want of me?"

"It is not my Lord Cartigern," Bryn told her, "but my Lord Merlin who has sent me. He says the druids have come."

She did not miss Ector's grimace, but Gwen's own mood lifted at the news - she'd been waiting for word from them ever since Samhain.

"If you will excuse me," she said to Ector, who stepped aside to let her pass. She placed a light hand on his arm and looked briefly into his eyes - an unspoken plea for him to trust her, to not allow his fear to cloud his judgement. He smiled and nodded in understanding, and satisfied enough, Gwen swiftly moved down the parapet and back into the castle.

Bryn watched Queen Guinevere disappear, standing completely still until he heard her footsteps on the stairs slowly die out. Then he waited another full minute before turning to Sir Ector to make sure they could not be overheard.

"I have a message for you too Sir," he said, inclining his head. "From my Lord Cartigern."

Ector looked uncomfortable, and looked out at the horizon where the last of the army was disappearing from view.

"He persists with his plans then?"

"Indeed," Bryn took a step closer, "and he needs to know your decision."

"I am already suspected, even though I have done nothing." Ector exhaled harshly and turned to him. "Merlin watches my every movement."

"And I watch him in return," Bryn said - it was how he'd been able to volunteer to fetch Guinevere when the druids had turned up, waiting for just such an opportunity. Merlin was left safely with them down in the audience chamber, and it was perhaps his only chance to speak to Ector alone.

"I made a vow," Ector said intently, "to protect and honour the Queen."

"No harm will come to her," Bryn assured him. "My Lord is doing all this to protect Guinevere."

"By usurping her crown?" Ector shook his head and made a dismissive sound. Bryn could see that he was wavering, and knew he must impress upon him the good intentions of his master - that in taking part of their plan Ector would not be breaking his pledge, but honouring it.

"The Queen is a kind woman, there is no better," Bryn said, knowing he must choose his words carefully. "But you must have seen how this matter has distressed her - and she with child no less! Who knows what effect this has had on Arthur's heir - stress can cause a stillbirth, everyone says so."

"Guinevere is Arthur's heir," Ector argued mildly. "He decreed it so."

"Love can cloud any man's judgement," Bryn shrugged. "Guinevere made him a worthy companion, but to rule is quite another matter, and she has not the temperament nor the breeding for it."

They were Cartigern's words, but he believed them wholeheartedly, for his lord was a true Pendragon, of a nobility and experience Guinevere, good as she was, simply lacked.

"So what is his plan?" Ector turned back, and Bryn could see his words were holding sway, his concern for the Queen's welfare, and that of her child, foremost in his mind.

Bryn looked around just in case, but only the wind could hear them. "My Lord has allies here at Camelot," he said lowly. "They will secure the Queen's person, and take charge only to ensure peace is made with Odin and the other kings." He smiled proudly, for it was a good plan. "So you see there will be no battle, and no one will die."

"Odin will withdraw so easily?" Ector scoffed. "He wants Camelot for himself."

"My Lord has been in correspondence with him," Bryn explained. "They are of like mind, that sorcerers are the enemy, not each other. He wants Merlin, and if we deliver him, their armies will withdraw. Magic will be outlawed again, and everything will be as it was."

But Ector still seemed troubled, clasping and unclasping his gloved hands. "And Guinevere?"

"She will retain all the rights and privileges afforded to her as Queen Dowager, and once he is of age her son - a Pendragon by blood - will be crowned." Bryn clasped Ector's arm. "So you see? Cartigern is not planning a coup, there is no treason, he has no desire to call himself king and settle the succession upon his own daughter."

A relief, in Bryn's opinion, for while young Nella was pleasant enough, she was a nervous, scatter-brained child even less suited to rule than Guinevere was. Of course it was possible that Lord Cartigern would still father a son, but two had died in infancy already and in any event Bryn believed he had nothing but the best intentions for Uther's grandchild.

Ector however, still seemed unsure. He was stroking his chin in contemplation, staring back out at the horizon, now empty.

"He will be regent though, I suppose."

"Is that not right?" Bryn was slightly indignant at this constant questioning. "As the man who has brought peace, and the boy's nearest male blood relative?"

Ector said nothing, conflict writ large upon his face. Bryn smoothed down his tunic of red and blue, seeing that he would get no immediate answer.

"I must return, before I am missed." He clasped Ector's arm again. "We meet tonight, I will send word of when and where once we can be sure no one will be followed."

Ector nodded, and Bryn studied his face for a few moments more. "This is for the good of the kingdom," he added, and then turned on one heel and walked away, hoping that Ector would see the truth of it - that this was their only chance.

Gwen sat nervously drumming her fingers on the arm of her throne, eyes locked on the doors of the audience chamber. It was empty save for herself - she'd sent the remaining guards and courtiers away, wanting to meet the druids alone. Cartigern had given a suspicious look at the order, but had not objected, simply hurried his daughter out of the room, herself rather reluctant to leave as her curiosity about the druids was no doubt burning strong. If all went well, Gwen resolved, she would tell Nella about them that evening and sate the girl's interest.

Finally, the doors opened, and Gwen straightened in her chair, clasping her hands in her lap to still her nervous fingers. Merlin appeared with two druids, ushering them into the chamber and closing the doors behind him.

They seemed ill at ease as Merlin led them towards her, looking around as if expecting at any moment that guards would appear from behind a pillar and take them into custody. Guinevere smiled at them both, hoping it would help assuage their fears.

"My Lady," Merlin gave a sweeping, somewhat exagerrated, bow. "May I present clan Chieftain Iseldir, and Bendrui Priestess Valeda."

They both also bowed, and Gwen was surprised as neither had done so on Samhain. She rose from her throne, feeling she must show equal respect, and dipped into as deep a curtsey as her late pregnancy would allow.

"Welcome to Camelot," she said. "I remember you both, of course, and am so pleased you have come."

Iseldir gave a wry smile. "Your messages were becoming rather difficult to ignore."

"Well the situation is grave," Gwen said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Has Merlin explained?"

"No, I thought best to leave it to you." Merlin had not taken up his usual place at her side, but instead stood between them, hands clasped behind his back. His two worlds and two duties, and he as ever in the middle of both.

"My Lady," Valeda spoke up, her keen eyes on the slight movement of Gwen's skirts. "Do not stand on our account - please, sit so you can be more comfortable."

Gwen felt rather chastised but obeyed, as it was a relief to take the weight off her feet. She sat up as tall as she could on her throne, resting her hands on the armrests and holding her chin high.

"I see you are near to your time," Valeda added kindly, "and so you should take your rest when you can."

It was an almost motherly scolding, and while otherwise Gwen would not mind it, she feared appearing as an untested mother to be rather than an authoritative queen.

"I thank you," she said. "But now is not the time to rest - for any of us."

"You speak of King Odin's army," Iseldir said, his expression grave. "We know of it - Lot is already marching his forces through Essetir."

"You know Odin is behind it?" Merlin looked at him quizzically.

"The druid network stretches across Albion and even beyond her borders," Iseldir told them. "There is much we know."

Merlin cast an excited look at Gwen, then turned back to Iseldir. "Anything that could help us?"

"We are not spies," Valeda cut in peevishly. "We share information about troop movements only to avoid them." She looked at Gwen, her earlier kindness gone. "Surely you must have known we would notice an army crossing the land, so I wonder you went to the trouble of sending for us."

She didn't wait for an explanation, taking a step forward. "Is it that you wish to press us into service? Use magic to help in the defence of your kingdom?"

"No," Gwen said firmly, looking her right in the eyes. "I told you on Samhain that Camelot would fight for you - I meant it. But Lot's army will destroy everything in their path, and I urge you to get your people to safety. They are welcome in Camelot, of course, to seek the protection of our city walls."

Valeda seemed to relax. "So it's true - the invasion is because you repealed the laws against magic?"

"In part," Gwen admitted, feeling they were owed the truth. "I believe it to be a pretext more than anything else, and the perceived weakness of my rule."

"For of course in their eyes a woman cannot hold true power." Valeda scowled, toying with the triskelion necklace she wore. "That is the true reason they fear magic, because our gifts come from the Triple Goddess, and they are faithless kings who can allow no greater authority than themselves."

Gwen thought perhaps she was right, although it was too simplistic as a whole explanation. The High Priestess Nimueh had once been Uther's court sorcerer, and he was happy enough to make use of her powers until they had not given him the result he wanted.

"I intend to prove that a queen can rule Camelot," she told them, "and that we will not be cowed by threats, but will protect everyone highborn and low, those with magic, and those without."

"We pray for your victory, my Lady." Iseldir inclined his head. "And thank you for your offer, but we are very adept at remaining hidden."

"Of course." They had successfully done so for many years, Gwen reminded herself, but felt she had needed to make the offer all the same.

"I will stay," Valeda spoke warmly once more, and Gwen felt as if she'd passed some kind of test. "I wish to assist you in your childbed, if you would allow me."

Gwen's mouth dropped open in surprise. She glanced at Merlin who smiled, no doubt thinking it would be useful to have another magic user around. He had still not made up his mind which front to travel to, if at all, loathe to leave her in Camelot unprotected.

"I would be pleased if you would stay," she said carefully. "But I already have a midwife."

"I'm sure she knows her trade well." Valeda gave Iseldir a sidelong glance. "But I understand that this pregnancy may be touched by magic."

Gwen looked to Merlin again but his smile had vanished - clearly he had not told them of the circumstances.

"What makes you think so?" she asked, keeping her voice light.

"It was well known among my order that Nimueh cursed the Pendragon line when she brought a babe into the world at the cost of his mother." Valeda gave her a look of sympathy. "Meddling in such things is forbidden, even for a High Priestess.."

Gwen's hand strayed to her belly, a sudden fear gripping her. "You think my child may be cursed?"

She looked to Merlin again, and he looked just as concerned - clearly it was not a possibility he'd considered. Another worry to churn in his mind as he stalked the hallways at night.

"Is that even possible?" he asked, a deep crease between his eyes. "To curse an entire family line - how can there be balance in that?"

"I abhor the dark arts, so I know little of them," Valeda admitted. "I do not wish to cause undue worry, but should the need arise I feel I would be better equipped to assist the Queen in her childbed."

"Um…" Merlin scratched the side of his face, looking uncomfortable. "Yes, I suppose."

He was clearly still deeply troubled, and Gwen hoped they would be able to discuss the matter at length later. For her part she would prefer not to hear the details until they came to a consensus - as she often found Merlin and Gaius attempting to explain the intricacies of magic and the Old Religion rather dizzying.

"I'm sure we will all benefit from your experience," Gwen said, rising to her feet again. "Will you be staying too?" she asked Iseldir.

"No, I must return," he inclined his head. "But it was a pleasure to see you again, my Lady."

Gwen held out her hand and Iseldir stepped forward to grasp it firmly. "I pray to the Goddess for safe delivery of your son."

Then he turned to Merlin with a smile. "And I have something for you," he said, "from the Great Dragon." Retrieving a large amber crystal from his bag, he held it out.

"You've seen him?" Merlin stepped forward eagerly and took the proffered gift.

"No," Iseldir said. "This came from one of our brethren beyond Albion's borders, passed through the clans until it came upon me, with a message to deliver it to you in good time before the battle."

Merlin's brow furrowed again as he examined the crystal, amber refractions of light dancing over his face. "What do I do with it?"

Iseldir gave him a wry smile. "You are the Dragonlord, not I."

"Well thank you," Merlin said, grasping the crystal tightly. "I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"Aghhh!" Merlin threw the crystal down on his bed. "What are you?"

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, wishing he'd pressed Iseldir for more information but he'd left Camelot earlier that day. Valeda was dining with Guinevere, but she'd made it plain she knew nothing of dragon magic, and Merlin had left them to their meal, certain he'd be able to figure it out in time for his nightly patrols. That had been hours earlier, and Merlin was all too aware while he was in his rooms trying to find the answer, the hallways went unmonitored.

Merlin sighed harshly and picked up the stone again, examining it closely. It was roughly cut - in appearance much like those from the crystal cave, but when he looked into its golden heart he saw no visions. He could feel the magic it contained, but he couldn't identify it.

"Perhaps it is simply for luck," Gaius suggested, from his seat at Merlin's desk, pouring over old scrolls.

"No," Merlin shook his head and sank down onto his bed, the crystal held in his hands. "I don't think so."

"A weapon then?" Gaius suggested. "The message said for it to be delivered to you before the battle, so maybe its power will reveal itself then."

"But that's what I don't understand." Merlin said, clutching the crystal tighter. "If he knows about the battle, why is he so far away, why not return when I've called for his help?"

"Maybe he cannot return," Gaius said, unrolling another scroll, "and he's too far to hear your call."

"But he sent me this." Merlin shook the stone in one hand. "He knows I need this help, that I need to talk-"

He jumped to his feet, smacking his forehead with his other hand. "Oh, I'm stupid," he said. "Of course!"

"What?" Gaius asked. "What is it?"

But Merlin didn't answer, instead moving down to the floor to sit cross legged and place the stone down in front of him. It balanced perfectly, a base formed by a smooth edge, and the jagged tip of the other end pointed at the ceiling, obvious now what the elliptical shape represented - he'd seen it a hundred times in the caverns beneath the castle.

The eye of a dragon.

Merlin called for Kilgharrah again, but this time under his breath rather than shouting until his voice was hoarse. He spoke the auld words, focussed on the crystal, chanting softly until it's deep gold heart that began to glow like his own eyes, and he could feel it's magic envelop him, telling him what to do.

Closing his eyes, Merlin felt his spirit lift away from his body but he did not stop his chanting until he felt the cold sting of wind against his face, and a familiar rumble of the Great Dragon's voice.

"Open your eyes, young warlock."

When he did, Merlin found himself in a great valley blanketed with snow, standing before a deep lake half frozen over. Great mountains loomed in the distance, and the spot was sheltered by a low ridge where water spilled gently from falls into the still blue part of the lake.

"Kilgharrah?" Merlin approached the dragon where he lay on the shore near the base of the waterfall, wings tucked against his body and head resting on his front legs, another amber crystal held between his claws. "Where are we?"

"You are still in Camelot," Kilgharrah said. "In body, at least. In spirit, we are far north, in the land of the Picts."

"What?" Merlin was shocked, he'd never heard of anyone travelling so far. "Why did you come here? Why didn't you return when I called?"

"Always you have questions, young warlock" Kilgarrah admonished him, lifting his head slowly and glaring at him with those amber eyes. "Never do you enquire after my welfare."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Merlin said sarcastically. "It's just the fate of Camelot on my shoulders as usual, and also the lives of Gwen and her unborn child, we're facing a greater threat than we ever have, but no, please," Merlin threw his hands up in the air, "let me take a moment to ask about your day!"

He was ready to continue ranting but noticed Kilgharrah was not regarding him with amusement as usual, nor had he risen from where he lay by the waterfall.

"Are you alright?" Merlin said softly as he moved closer.

"No, young one." Kilgarrah rested his head back down on his foreclaws. "I am nearing the end of this life."

"What?" Merlin started, it had been the last thing he had expected or wanted to hear. "You're dying?"

"My time is waning," Kilgarrah said, his voice weary. "So I am sorry, I could not answer your call, or return to fight by your side once more."

"Merlin?" Gaius called him, but his voice was far away. "What happened, are you alright?"

He felt a shake of his shoulder, and Gaius' voice again, frantically calling for him. Kilgarrah gave him a nod, and Merlin closed his eyes again, the cold air of the north fading to be replaced once again by the warmth of his own rooms.

He opened his eyes to Gaius' panicked face. "Are you alright?" he asked again.

"I'm fine," Merlin assured him. "It's Kilgharrah, I'm communicating with him."

"Through the stone?" Gaius' forehead creased in consternation. "I have never heard of such a thing."

Merlin shrugged, the hows and whys seeming unimportant. "I have to get back." He closed his eyes again and this time felt the transportation keenly now that he knew what to expect.

Kilgharrah was waiting for him, head still resting on his foreclaws and tail moving slowly from side to side.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, for both his absence and the terrible news. "Are you...in pain?"

"No, young one," Kilgharrah sighed. "But I am tired, and sad - I have flown too far from my home and I can never return to it."

"Why did you come here?" Merlin looked around at the snowy landscape - it was a beautiful place, but he doubted the dragon cared about the scenery.

"I was searching for Aithusia," Kilgharrah told him. "I don't know why she came here, but I can feel her somewhere in these wild lands."

"Maybe she was running away," Merlin said softly, thinking of how he'd forced the white dragon to retreat at Camlann. He'd helped bring her into the world, and yet neither he nor Kilgharrah had protected her, she had instead fallen in with Morgana and had suffered terribly for it.

"Perhaps." Kilgharrah lifted himself up into a seated position, pawing the ground with his foreclaws. "But that is not why you wanted to speak with me."

"I…" Merlin ran a hand through his hair, emotion welling inside him. "I just feel like I'm in danger of losing everyone, and now you as well?"

Kilgharrah gave him a kind look. "You are so young, Emrys, with so many years left ahead of you. There is one certainty to your life, and that is you will lose everyone."

"But not now, surely?" Hot tears spilled onto his cheeks. "Not so soon?"

The dragon gave a low, soothing rumble in his throat. "I cannot say for others, but my time is not yet upon me. We will meet again, before the end."

There was comfort in his words, and Merlin wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, giving less than a moment's wonder to whether his body back in Camelot was completing the act or if it was just his projection, before deciding it didn't matter.

"But I am touched by your sorrow," Kilgharrah added, "I had thought you were still angry with me."

"I am." Merlin sniffed, and managed a bitter smile. "You lied to me."

"I did not," Kilgarrah protested, tail swishing in agitation. "What lies?"

"About Arthur, that he would unite all of Albion." Resentments that had been swirling since Camlann surfaced and spilled forth. "He was king for four years - that's hardly a Golden Age, not even an age at all! And now he's gone, and Camelot is fractured more than ever, let alone Albion, the druids think his bloodline may be cursed, and I'm afraid my magic may not be enough to save us."

Merlin looked back up at Kilgharrah, catching a ragged breath and staring him down waiting for an explanation. It was not immediately forthcoming, the dragon simply staring back at him with those amber eyes, seemingly unmoved by Merlin's outburst.

"We who have the Sight do not always see clearly," he said eventually, his voice calm. "As you have discovered for yourself, Emrys."

"I don't accept that," Merlin shook his head, his fists clenched. "You kept things from me deliberately, so that I would make certain choices."

"I gave you advice you chose to ignore," Kilgharrah leaned in close enough for his warm breath to alight on Merlin's face. "I told you to let Uther die. I told you to let Mordred die. I told you to let Morgana die."

Merlin stared back at him and did not flinch. "What kind of person would I be if I had?"

"A person with a king still to serve."

Merlin didn't have a response to that, only a sharp pain in his heart as he cast his gaze aside. Perhaps Kilgharrah was right, perhaps he should not have intervened, but allowed his future enemies to die even when they had not yet turned against him, let Uther receive a fitting punishment for all of his crimes. Was it all his fault?

No - he'd talked it over with Gwen to the point of near exhaustion, analysing every choice and weighing up every mistake, her calm logic penetrating the thick veil of his guilt. He could have let them all die, and perhaps things would be worse - what kind of king would Arthur have been if he'd been elevated to that responsibility too early? Would Merlin have become the arbiter of life and death, what darkness would have consumed his soul if he'd justified every cold act with prophecy?

Kilgharrah settled back down and closed his eyes, his breathing slightly laboured. "Blame me if you must, Merlin, but I hope you believe I have only ever tried to help you."

Merlin couldn't be completely sure of that, but he had no wish to cause Kilgharrah pain when he was dying, and couldn't deny that he had at times given him true counsel. Moving close, he held out his hand to touch the dagon's side as his chest rose and fell, surprised when it was firm as flesh under his fingers.

"Are you able to help me now?" Merlin lightly stroked Kilgharrah's scales and was rewarded by a rumble of gratitude.

"You have everything you need," he said, but then his voice caught and he gave a rasping cough. Merlin instinctively reached out with his magic, murmuring a healing chant to calm the dragon's racing heart.

Kilgharrah sighed in relief. "Thank you, young one."

"Wait…" Merlin looked down at his hand pressed against the dragonscale. "I can touch you, and I can do magic."

"Understand now?" Kilgharrah chuckled lightly.

"But the stone," he argued, "I only have one."

"The dragoneyes were cut from a much larger crystal," Kilgharrah said. "They can be cut again."

"So I can-"

"Yes, Merlin," he confirmed with another sigh. "Now go, I need to rest."

Merlin felt himself being pushed back, and taking the hint, closed his eyes, vowing that it would not be the last time he spoke to Kilgharrah, and that he would say a proper goodbye.

The warmth of his rooms was welcome after the bitter cold, and Merlin's eyes snapped open again to see Gaius kneeling on the floor facing him with a worried expression, the crystal between them.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and Merlin scrambled over to help the old man to his feet, not wanting to think of how hard the floor would have been on his knees.

"I'm fine," Merlin assured him, and Gaius winced as he straightened his legs. "I figured it out."

"The crystal?" Gaius looked down at the floor, where the stone had stopped glowing and returned to a dusky yellow. Merlin bent to retrieve it, holding it close to his chest as his heart swelled with relief.

"You know how Gwen said that not even a sorcerer could be in two places at once?"

"Yes."

Merlin grinned. "She was wrong."

Ector crept carefully down the halls of the castle, ever watchful to make sure he was not seen. Bryn had sent a message with the location to meet, confirming that Merlin had retired to his rooms, and the Queen was dining with Lady Nella and her druid guest. Their treasonous gathering would not be disturbed, no one would be followed, and words would become actions.

If you're with us, come now.

He's been tortured with indecision for days. His duty lay with Camelot, that much was clear, but with which side of the Pendragon line? Cartigern was Uther's heir in spirit, he represented everything Ector had been raised to believe in and fight for. And yet Guinevere was a kind and just ruler, Arthur's appointed heir and mother to his son.

But she was not free from influence - she had met with the druids alone, not even with a knight to protect her! He had heard that the druid witch was staying in Camelot to assist with the birth of the prince - to think of it, a sorcerer to deliver Uther's grandson? Who knows what spells they had cast on the Queen, on her child - what if allowing magic was not enough for them, what if they would not stop until a druid sat on the throne of Camelot? How easy it would be, for them to bewitch the Queen to follow their orders, or even swap out her child for a druid babe.

Yet Cartigern had his own agenda - while Bryn had spoken of his lord's good intentions, Ector did not quite trust his motives. He had likely helped bring about the invasion he was now vowing to stop, and as regent could mould the child in any way he wished. But surely that was better than the alternative, and Ector could exert his own influence, stop Cartigern from going too far.

He had made a vow - I pledge to you, Queen Guinevere, my fealty and constant obedience with hearty and humble affection, and swear to uphold the laws of your realm.

Those had been his words - to obey her, no matter what his personal feelings may be. But a Knight of Camelot was honour bound to protect the people as well as the monarch - that had been Arthur's ultimate decree, and Ector could not deny that Cartigern's plan, if it worked, would save many lives.

He also felt a duty to Cartigern himself - the man who had found him after the battle for Camelot, had perhaps saved him from being crushed under the weight of armour and death. Did Cartigern not also have the claim of Ector's honour and service? They had been friends for years, Cartigern trusted him, needed him.

It was betrayal of the deepest kind, no matter what decision he made. It tore him apart, to have no good choices - to have no choice at all. But what did the Queen often say? He'd heard it several times when someone gave a feeble defence to their actions - delivered kindly, but in a way that never failed elicit remorse.

You always have a choice. Sometimes it's just easier to think you don't.

Was he taking the easy way out, to choose Cartigern and the promise of security, the repeal of magic, and a firm male hand to guide the prince until his majority? Or perhaps the easy path would be to keep to his vow as a shield, even if the kingdom was overrun by sorcerers, even if so many died?

And yet Kay, his son, sent like a lamb to the slaughter. And yet Guinevere, could he trust Cartigern's word she would be unharmed? And yet, Merlin, with his magic and influence, and plans of his own.

And yet, and yet, and yet…

The hallway was deserted, everyone had retired for the night. Ector walked so carefully his boots made nary a sound on the stones, and he examined every corner, every crevice, every shadow, to make sure he was not being watched. When he reached his destination, the wide, wooden door seemed to be mocking him, the only barrier between himself and irrevocable betrayal. Steeling himself, Ector raised one fist, and forced himself to rap smartly on the door.

He'd made his decision; he only hoped he could live with it.