Chapter Eight: The Sword and the Table (Part Two)

Iris could feel the weight of the knight's stares between her shoulders as Nimbus strode through the grass-lined path that still glowed. Only Gwaine seemed to be content with riding near the rear, his eyes and thoughts not on her, but on Morgana.

Leon nudged his stallion forward so they were side-by-side. He did not meet her gaze when she glanced his way, but kept his eyes trained on the forest in front of them.

"I did not wish to deceive any of you," she said softly. "But when I first arrived, all I knew was fear. Fear that came with keeping my secret and Merlin's, then eventually Morgana's."

"Are you afraid now?" Leon asked.

"I cannot allow fear to dictate my life any longer. Perhaps you can understand."

Elyan spoke up from her left. "We understand that much. The rest, however, goes against what we were taught from living in Camelot most of our lives."

Iris looked to Gwen's brother, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. "And if Uther were still alive? Would you kill us all?"

Elyan held her gaze for a long moment before looking away.

Percival quietly spoke up. "No."

"You have never given us any reason to…" Leon exhaled deeply. "I remember when Uther would hold weekly executions of people he accused of having magic. I remember the screams, the smells. I do not wish to see that happen again."

"Were you afraid of us?"

Iris's eyes widened at Percival's question. She pulled Nimbus to a stop, looking the knight in the eye. "You have never given me a reason to be afraid of you. Any of you. I have known nothing but kindness from each of you." She straightened her spine. "So I will defend you as I would my king, queen, and the people of Camelot."

"I know this is a shock to you all," Iris continued. "I know you might feel betrayed. But all I will ask of you is… Trust me, as you trusted me just a few hours ago. I know I am just a handmaiden-,"

"You are not," Leon cut in, with something like pride in his eyes. "You were trained by all of us. You are more than a servant, you always have been."

Percival smiled at her. "Lady Iris, knight of Camelot."

Iris smiled at the knights, before she looked back at Elyan, who remained quiet. The knight's dark eyes assessed her, the light surrounding her. Then his chin dipped in a nod, before he nudged his horse forward.

Gwaine grinned, having kept quiet, and saluted her.

And for Iris, that was enough.

And as they continued along their way, she whispered a spell, which drifted over the knight's near to her and far away in a soft golden mist before disappearing under their skin, unnoticed.

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Merlin wondered how Morgana could so easily navigate her way through the dark. It was as if it whispered to her, wrapped itself around her, until she was a half-shadow.

Arthur kept pace with Merlin's gelding, allowing Morgana to take point as they weaved their way through the woods. The moonlight caught on his armor, making it gleam.

Merlin barely blinked when he felt Iris's magic surround Arthur before dissipating. He had sensed her thoughts, her spell as she casted it.

Morgana did not say anything. She cocked her head like an animal, then turned them so they began moving eastward.

Arthur finally glanced at Merlin, lifting a brow. What is she listening to? he seemed to quietly ask.

Merlin shrugged. Morgana's magic was different from his and Iris's, and he often wondered if it was because Iris and him had been dragon-blessed.

The hours would stretch on as they followed the dark-haired sorceress through the forests, past long stretches of rivers whose waters gleamed like silver in the dark, past the shadows of tall mountains.

When dawn broke, spilling golden sunlight across the lands, Morgana finally stopped as the forest opened up to a large clearing.

The trees formed a near perfect circle and the wind whispered through the spring green grass. And there, in the center of the clearing, sat a boulder with a sword buried in its heart.

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Mordred watched the dark sorceress pace in front of him, hissing under her breath. After Merlin had used the spell that prevented her from moving across the lands, Nimueh swore to make him pay.

The druid boy kept quiet within his confinement. His eyes tracked her movements, before drifting to her wrist. A long, shallow slice burned an angry red against her moon-pale skin.

He wondered why it had not healed itself. After being pulled back across the veil, he had seen first hand how any wounds inflicted upon her person healed within a matter of minutes.

"Complaining about that boy sorcerer will not accomplish anything," snapped a voice that was not his. "We must continue on with our plans."

Nimueh whirled towards him, eyes narrowing. "You forget your place, Lord Agravaine. One word from me, and your soul will be pulled from this host and cast back into the veil. I would not take that tone lightly with me. I was alive before you were even a thought in your mother's womb, before your family tree was even a sapling."

"Ah, but you forget, darling Nimueh. If I go back across the veil, so shall you," Agravaine sneered, baring the burn mark on his chest, directly over Mordred's druid mark. "Enough with the taunts. We must hurry."

Nimueh's expression darkened before a snake's smile spread across her lips. "Certainly. Come here, my lord. I require your assistance for the next phase."

Mordred recoiled deep within himself, knowing what would happen next. The dark spells that Nimueh used required.. A boost, so to speak, from his magic. Druid magic was vastly different from what burned through Nimueh like a dark fire and she saw it fit to drain him from his own magic whenever she pleased.

Mordred started praying, in that stuffy box he had been shoved into in the recesses of his body, before he started screaming.

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Dawn had come and gone hours ago, and with it a warm spring shower that covered the forests and fields before the clouds faded as the midafternoon sun rose.

Iris sat in the middle of the meadow outside of Camelot, playing with a blood-stained dagger. She turned it over and over in her hands, watching how the sunlight refracted off of the hilt, since the blade itself was covered in old blood.

She could almost sense the lingering magic the blood held, the dark, oily feeling of it. She ignored it, as she ignored the way the blood course within her own veins called back to it. The quaking within her had become more manageable, after finding some relief after crossing paths with Nimueh.

A great wind blew across the grass, nearly knocking Iris over as a massive beast flew downwards before landing smoothly in front of her.

Kilgharrah's golden eyes met hers, then looked at the dagger. "I was a risk to summon me here, Iris," he told her.

"I know," she said, rising to her feet to greet the dragon as she always did. "But Arthur is away and the other knights…"

The dragon recoiled sharply when her hand rested on his scales, allowing him into her thoughts. He snarled, revealing his long, sharp teeth. "Iris, what have you done?"

Iris merely laughed softly, undeterred by the wall of teeth in front of her, each as long as a sword. "I have done exactly what the Fates wanted. I have played the game and now it is time for us to be in charge, not them."

"This was not foretold-,"

"Oh?" Iris interrupted, tilting her head. "How was it not? My entire life- all of my lives- have been dictated by some unseen, unknown force. I was expected to allow it all to guide me, even if it meant putting my life on the line, or the lives of those I love. Tell me, Great Dragon, are you so willing to let them use you as a means to an end?"

She held his stare, fists clenched as he magic swelled within her. "I will not be controlled. I will not be used as a pawn in a greater game that I might not win. I will not die just because it is expected of me, but because I took control of my own fate."

Kilgharrah lifted his head, blotting out the sun. "If you depart from the path…"

"The future has many paths," Iris said, her entire body glowing. "I am creating my own."

Beneath the dragon and the sorceress, the earth trembled.

The Great Dragon assessed Iris, seeing magic she was born with and the magic that had been stolen within her. He watched as she unleashed a wave of magic and how the blood on the dagger faded into nothing but ash.

As her fire cooled and dimmed, Iris continued to hold his gaze calmly. "And I have need of you yet, Kilgharrah."

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Arthur stared at the sword in the stone, utterly speechless.

Impossible, he wanted to say.

But another part listened, as Morgana had listened to the dark, as the sword sang to him, as if it had been waiting for him all this time.

Take me from the heart, the sword whispered. For I am yours to wield.

"Do you…?" Arthur trailed off, before trying again. "Do you hear it?"

"I heard the ones who placed it here and I heard their call when it was time to bring you here," Morgana replied. "It is yours, Arthur. You only have to take it."

Arthur then looked at Merlin, who was staring at the sword with wide eyes. Not in shock, he realized, but recognition.

The sorcerer slowly met the king's stare, before nodding.

Swallowing, Arthur slowly made his way towards the sword. The sun broke through the trees, illuminating everything in the clearing.

Merlin and Morgana watched quietly, both feeling the change in the air, in the light. The sunlight seemed to pulse as Arthur laid a hand on the pommel of the sword.

And with one smooth movement, the king drew the sword from the stone, and the earth trembled beneath their feet once, then twice.

"It… It gave me its name," Arthur murmured, turning towards them. "But I am not to speak it until… until it's been… dragon-blessed?"

Merlin and Morgana exchanged a long, understanding look.

"Then we shall take you to him," Merlin said.

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Merlin led the way back to Camelot this time, the daylight making the path easier to navigate. They arrived quickly, having pushed their horses into a gallop for most of the way.

Arthur did not question why Merlin turned them towards the meadows rather than the castle. He had been silent for most of the ride, as if lost in thought. Or, perhaps, listening to what the sword had to tell him.

When they entered the meadow, Merlin smiled at the sight before him. The dragon, the sorceress, and the knight turned towards them.

"I see you brought an extra guest," he said to his wife as they dismounted before walking over.

"You know how Gwaine is," Iris smiled. "Plus I think he missed Morgana."

Merlin glanced at the knight who was already embracing the dark-haired sorceress tightly. He grinned until he saw Arthur's wide-eyed stare aimed at the dragon whose bulk devoured the space.

Kilgharrah met the king's eyes. "It has been a long time since I have gazed upon a Pendragon. Tell me, King Arthur of Camelot, have you ever contemplated your surname?"

Arthur managed to blink before responding. "My father told me the name came from an ancient king- an ancestor of mine- who chose the name because he… conquered the dragons."

"Conquered, yes. Your ancestor was the first of many who tried to use the dragons as a means to control his kingdom, to insight fear in his people. It was not long before his descendants realized they could not control the dragons, for the Dragon Lords were the only ones who could, and they chose to slaughter them."

"I am not my father, nor am I like the men before me," the king said.

"Perhaps," the dragon mused.

Merlin did not miss the glare Iris gave Kilgharrah and nearly gawked at her. He had never seen her look at the dragon that way before, with such rage.

"I was brought here by this," Arthur said, stepping forward with the sword in his hand. "It told me your name, Kilgharrah, and told me to ask for your blessing."

"Do you know the purpose of that sword?" Kilgharrah asked.

Iris hissed. "Kilgharrah, we do not have time for your word games. You know what must be done."

"Forgive me, Your Highness," Kilgharrah said smoothly, even as his tone indicated no remorse. "Lift the sword and say its name."

Arthur lifted the sword above him, high enough where the sunlight made it glow. "I name you… Excalibur."

Kilgharrah unleashed a torrent of flames, which encompassed the sword, which glowed and sparked but did not burn the king. The sword seemed to absorb the flames until it glowed white-hot, bright as a beacon in the air.

Iris was the first the kneel in the grass, bowing her head in reverence. The others followed suit, all except for the Great Dragon, kneeling before the king and his dragon-blessed sword.

Kilgharrah merely inclined his head as Arthur met his gaze as the flames faded to nothing. "Now it is your to wield, Arthur Pendragon. Wield it wisely."

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Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin or its characters.

Author's Note: Please review!