A/N: To all my readers out there- I'm sorry it has taken so long to post. So far this year has started off with a bang. Not a good, or bad anything, just a sad something. My Great grandmother passed away this January and that was very hard. I was lucky enough to have had her in my life for As long as I did.

However, not but a month later, one of my best friends passed away from an unidentifiable cancer. That was... idk what to even say about it. It's tragic and unfair. I'm still a bit in shocked. He was an amazing person, and had a lot to offer. It was horrible that he had to suffer so much. He was there for me when i had my second bout of cancer. That ment a tone. He knew what I was going through and never treated me any different. He had helped me through some tough, and i can honestly admit, some embarrassing, moments.

But enough of the sad stuff...

Back to all those still with me and reading this story.

Thank you! And again I'm sorry it took so long. I managed to write several chapters, so hopefully i can get them edited and posted sooner than this one.

Enjoy!

{42}

The Servant Queen

Arthur and his knights made it to Camelot before Morgana was able to set siege on his kingdom. He didn't know how they managed it, but here they were and the walls still stood guard around the castle. And so did Morgana. Arthur no longer held out much hope for survival for himself, he only cared for the survival of his kingdom. That's all he had left. Still he found himself staring at Morganas massive army and thinking, slightly panicked, now what?

The final moment has arrived. Brother against sister on a path that lead nowhere except death for one or both siblings.

Arthur felt sick to his stomach. A part of him wished this was just a terrible nightmare. That he could close his eyes and send them both back to a time when they only played war gamed with each other. But there was no going back. This is what life has dealt them and they had to let it play itself out, no matter that Arthur loved his sister, he could not- would not- let her win. Morgana was danger to herself, those around her, and all that Arthur loved and fought for.

Like Merlin, a harsh and bitter voice slithered through his tormented thoughts.

Arthur took in every detail about the enemy army. He noticed that among knights and mercenaries there were unarmed men and women. Arthur could only assume they had magic.

The force Morgana brought vastly out numbered his own. His doubts about wining this war only grew. Usually he would have Merlin to lift his spirits, but Arthur knew deep down that that time had passed. This was his life and there were no re-do's. There would be no going back to when life was simpler. No longer would it be filled with sarcastic taunts and easy quests. No, it was tainted by loss and death and mayhem. There were only hard times and even harder choices ahead of him.

Arthur turned and walked behind Ranoue and James and the few magicians willing to help protect the kingdom, letting them take the lead. The rest of the sorcerers were scattered throughout Camelot; inside her walls ready and waiting to help defend and stem the flow of battle, if, and when Morgana got thorough. It was strange to have magic so close, and at his beck and call. It pained him to have to use magic to protect a kingdom Arthur should be able to defend. It was both disconcerting and humbling.

After everything his father has done... Arthur was awed by these brave men and woman who were still willing to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. The fact that they were here and let him know that they were... Arthurs outlook brightened just a little.

Maybe I could do this without Merlin, Arthur reasoned, false hope playing havoc with his insides, but the lie burned his tongue. He knew there was no going forward without Emrys, without Merlin. He was as necessary to Arthur as breathing. They were two halves of the same coin. Arthur rubbed at his temples, trying to alleviate the headache that was beginning to bloom behind his eyes. He sighed heavily, dear God, have mercy on us.

Ranoue glanced back at Arthur. He looked troubled. He rubbed at he side of his head as if he had the starting of a migraine. James shared a look with Ranoue before they looked back to the wall, now even more nervous than before. This was a really bad time to get a headache. Arthur would need to be it top shape to protect himself because they were not going to be able to.

James looked out at the field of men and women ready for war. Ranoues group had the best view of Camelots walls and the Mercenaries from the small cropping of trees just to the side of Camelots forces. Close enough to render aid but far enough not to be challenged in the coming fight.

It was the moment of truth. Could this small group of sorcerers sustain a spell this powerful with only seven magicians when the spell needed seven master casters not five novices, a bitter sorcerer and a healer? This was by far the most reckless thing he has ever done. He swallowed down his concern. What in the holly hell made him think that they could pull this off. Ranoue saw James glance at his uncertainly, as if he could already hear Ranoues thoughts.

James lips pressed together in a firm line. He knew this spell; had read about it when he had visited Catha as a boy. James had the chance to learn great things from the high priest of the old religion. Including the dangers spells like this one posed. James knew where Ranoue first leaned it, but James didn't think Ranoue fully understood the full weight of the task at hand, or else he wouldn't have brought it up so easily. It was an ancient art that was passed down through generations. James had lucky enough to learned it from his visits to Catha, by a trained priest, but Ranoue had learned from his wife and her brother, Garrett, who learned it from their parents and so on. Maybe that was why Ranoue seemed so comfortable with the spell, maybe it was common to use it among his family.

The spell allowed the ability to combine magic. An impossible feat for most. It was reserved for mates usually because it was a joining of sorts, but it could also be used to heighten power and help handle larger spells for longer periods of time.

Ranoue reached for James hand. James tensed, his hand shied away from the touch. This spell could go very wrong it they didn't match. He wasn't all that confident they would. A Camelot knight and a druid. The magic they shared, and the feeling James felt and tried to deny, didn't change the fact that they were as different as night and day, water and fire. They just didn't seem like there magic would mix.

James had to steel himself when Ranoue reached for him again. James couldn't hide that his body awakened whenever Ranoue neared him, it was hard to miss, but he still he had to force himself to let Ranoue touch him. The warnings of his childhood were still very real. James held his breath and waited to see if their magic would spark.

As soon as Ranoue and James clasped hands their magic arched and clashed, melding together in a magical display white gold and blue light only they could see and connection washed over them, the spell binding their magic, their soul, there very being together in a bond that would forever change them. It was a dangerous task and an unpredictable magic that didn't always work. The casters needed to be compatible, and if they were not... it was a disaster. And yet, the consequence didn't out way the need. It was what was required to cast the spell over the wall.

Behind them the other five sorcerers clasped hands, but didn't touch James or Ranoue. They stood beside them in a semicircle as instructed; there only to help steady and maintain the overflow of such a powerful spell.

Arthur had instructed that protecting Camelots wall was their first priority. If the wall fell, Camelot was sure to follow. Arthur safety was their next priority, a difficult one based on his past recklessness, and if the wall fell, he was sure Arthur would be near impossible to reign in. he already was. It took some convincing on Ranoues part and a lot of sweet-talk from Gwain to get Arthur to agree to stay away from the battle for now.

"Are they sure this will work?" Arthur asked Cedric softly.

Arthur never took his gaze from Morganas army, his eyes constantly searching for something among the masses. Cedric could guess who it was he was searching for. Cedric raised a brow at the king, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "I'm sure that they can try." Cedric replied without giving any hope, or doubt. "That is all anyone can do."

Ranoue and James both had a hard time keeping their full attention on the spell with the whispered conversation behind them. They're thoughts blended until they were one.

I doubted this spell enough- for the dozen of us- on my own just fine, thank you very much. Ranoue snapped, unconsciously reaching for the mind that was slowly melding with his own. Ranoue already wishes Arthur hadn't agreed with him about keeping out of harms way so easily. But it was important that he stay far-far away from Emrys, or Morgana.

Nice to know he doesn't hold much more confidence than I do, James grumbled. Their connection still faint that it was more of an impression than actual words.

Together they took a breath, the air circulated their lungs, before they exhaled, doing their best to ignore Arthur's prattle. It was difficult, but possible. Ranoue and James felt the foreign connection click inside of them and they began to speak in the ancient language of the old religion under their breath, their voices melded into one haunting chant.

Their voices rose and fell in low murmurs. A rhythmic ebb and flow that had goosebumps fanning over everyone's skin. Ranoue and James' combined power rose along with their voice, and yet Arthur heard nothing but a soft whisper. Arthur shifted at the raw display of power. It wasn't as overwhelming as Merlins', but it was breathtaking to behold.

To any magic user the spell pulsed like a heart beat, a living breathing entity that spread over the stone in an intimate embrace creating what looked like an intricate spider's web made out of shiny magical blue and white-gold tread. The magic shrouded wall absorbed their mystic language, muffling the sound of their words, but their power was evident in the low tense buzzing of the air around where they stood.

~oo0oo~

Guinevere stood among the knights of Camelot, armor clad and sword in hand, waiting for the battle to begin. Muted words of an unknown language reached her ears on the cool winter wind. It was faint but it had the hair raising on her arm as if a thunderstorm was imminent. The words caused a hush to fall over the knights. Guinevere felt their nervous energy. They shifted on their feet, weapons clanking against their chain mail and armor, but the sound was strangely muted to her ears. It was overrode by the hard pounding beat of her heart. The silence stretched out straining their already frayed nerves. No crickets chirped and no animal made a sound as if sensing the impending danger. It seemed as if the whole kingdom held their breath, waiting for the first sounds of war to begin the charge.

Leon stood to Guineveres' right, Gilli, a sorcerer friend of Merlins, to her left, both ready to defend the queen should they need to. Leon glanced at Gilli over the queens head. The young lad looked over at Leon. They had gotten close in the last few weeks the army had been marching. Leon was ever curious about magic now that most of the army has been made aware of Merlins own magic. More and more magic users and sympathizers had been showing up since Merlin, or rather Emrys, went missing and Arthur road out. The same people that had lent their support and aide were scattered throughout their ranks.

"This is a bad idea." Leon mumbled.

"Aye," Gilli agreed, fingering his fathers ring on his right hand. He feared what the king would say if he knew that the queen was on the battle field. Gilli would definitely be put on the chopping block, Leon too. Gilli twisted the ring around and around his middle finger, reassuring himself it was there, it was safe and secure.

"And leaving your Queen defenseless in a tent in the woods is a better one?" Guinevere replied, cutting Gilli and Leon with a sharp look and a raised eyebrow.

"I'd hardly say you are defenseless, My Lady," Gilli gave a short stiff bow of his head, meaning no offense. He didn't know the queen very well, or that long but he had a good sense of who people were without them saying, and she was a fighter, a shield maiden in her own right, but a queen none the less. "However, I believe Sir Leon has a point. This is no place for-"

"A woman?" Guinevere challenged

"No, Milady. This is no place for a Queen. If the king falls-"

"Arthur," Guinevere stressed his name. "Is going to be just fine. He has to be." Guinevere glared ahead of her, at Morgana and her army. They were like wolves frothing at the mouth or vultures waiting for the battle to end to pick through the dead on the field. She glanced behind her and past the knights to where Arthur stood with the last defense for the wall. She had hoped he would be down her, with the knights, with here but she guessed that he felt the need to oversee the magic that would help keep the wall safe from Morgana's sorcerers.

Guinevere looked back to the field, assessing both armies. For a moment she felt like she did when she was child. You know that feeling when you are swimming and you go to stand up but the bottom in farther away that you thought... that was how she felt right now. Scared and wondering where the damn bottom was. Guinevere suddenly felt like she was falling, spiraling into a twisted oblivion with out moving or twitching a muscle. There was a burst of light behind her eyes and she saw a jumbled collection of images all stained red with blood. All filled with death, destruction, pain and loss... so much loss. There was going to be a lot of death. Guinevere felt a single tear escape; the ticking sensation as it traveled down her cheek brought her back to the present.

She looked around at the knights. This was going to bloodbath. She felt certain that either one, or both, royal siblings will meet their doom, and take Camelot and her people with them.

Guinevere looked back at the emey army. Searching for Morgana. She found her. She stood out among the masses atop a parge horse. She was hard to miss with her aura of mad power. Guinevere shivered when Morganas head suddenly snapped in her direction, as if sensing Guinevere was looking at her. She kept her eyes fastened forward refusing to turn away form to woman that wanted to take her husband away from her, but let herself get lost in the memory of Arthur as she waited for the sounds of war...

They were in their tent just after Arthur arrived in the camp, dirty and bleeding, with Ranoue in town and an unconscious James.

Arthur bathed in the wooden bath and she had joined him unable to keep away any longer. Arthur had held her so close that night. Never let more than a breath separate them. He never stopped touching her, not even when he lifted her from the bath and transported them to the feather mattress on the ground.

Arthur laid her down gently against the many pillows, her lags bent at the knee and spread wide to allow him to nestle between them. She cradled his hips as he sunk deep in side her. She tilled her head back and gasped at the feel of him. They fit perfectly. They stayed like that, without moving, just enjoying the feel one an other. A intimacy she readily admitted she missed.

They had not lain together since the night before Arthur and Merlin left on patrol. Guinevere looked up at him, taking in his bruised face and battered blue eyes. His soft lips were spit and dry and still he was the most handsome man to her. But even as she watched the wounds- they healed further until they were non-existent. The magic Ranoue had put into the water did wonders, even soothed Guineveres' sore muscles.

She ran her fingers over his newly healed skin, and over the soft rise of his lips, the softest part on his body. She let her hand drop."I've missed this." Guinevere sighed into his shoulder.

Arthur lifted his head from the crook of her neck to press a gentile kiss to her full lips. He breathed in all that was Guinevere. "And I you, my sweet, sweet Guinevere." Arthur murmured against her lips. Her tongue darted out licking his bottom lip teasingly.

Arthur growled at the wet heat and deepened the kiss. Guinevere gasped. Arthur swallowed the breathy noise on a moan of his own. Arthur started to move inside her, surging forward with hard sure strokes. He moved faster and deeper still, bring them close to the edge. They were so wound up that it didn't take long until both of their bodied were singing with pleasure.

Arthur turned onto his side and rolled Guinevere on top of him so she straddled him. She rested her head on his chest. They stayed like that for a long peaceful moment, still intimately connected. Guinevere fought an internal battle unbeknownst to Arthur. She had wonderful news, a blessing that she had feared would never come, but she hesitated to share her joy.

If she told Arthur what good new she had then he would be too distracted to fight, his mind wont be in it, it will here with her. And if she didn't tell him and he did die, then he would die never knowing what a blessing they had created. She couldn't raise a child alone...

Guinevere played with the light blond hair on Arthur chest running her fingers in intricate patterns over his smooth skin. Arthur held onto her as if he were afraid she would be ripped from his arms, and maybe he truly thought that could happen. Morgana had taken his best friend from him, what would stop her from taking Guinevere?

She felt his fear as if it were her own as he clung to her. It was hard to fully enjoy this small moment together. The atmosphere was restless, their peace near unattainable with the battle looming over them. The death of her husband kept her up, raided her dreams, and haunted her waking hours. There was no escaping these very real, very painful possibilities.

Tomorrow will dictate the future, and she truly feared that this was the beginning of the end for the Pendragon reign. If Arthur doesn't survive this war, and Camelot is lost, Guinevere will do everything in her power to make sure that Morgana never sits upon the throne, for the throne belongs to Arthurs unborn child. And if it is that it was to be the end of the Pendragon line, then Morgana was going down with them all.

Guinevere, however, couldn't voice her true feelings and worry her husband more than he already was. He needed strength from her. Give him strength, Guinevere bit her lip. She couldn't help her next words, though. She needed to know his thoughts on the matter.

She looked up at him from under her lashes. "What if our world ends tomorrow, Arthur?" Guinevere asked softly.

The silence dragged on so long she feared he wasn't going to answer, or that he had fallen asleep. He didn't react to her words in the least. But he took in a slow deep breath, held it, and released it on a large gust. He stared up at the roof of the tent. "Then... then we will build it up again."

Guinevere returned her hand to his chest, running a single finger around his nipple until it budded and goosebumps covered his skin. "And if your not there to help me?" Guinevere worried her bottom lip. She didn't just mean the kingdom, and she didn't know how to tell him. I'm with child, Arthur. Guinevere's mind screamed.

Arthur sighed. He ran his fingers down her spine with one hand and brushed her hair from her face with his other. He griped her chin and forced her to look up at him. His blue eyes searched her face and caught the love and worry clearly shining from her soft brown eyes.

"Then, my love, you shall have to rebuild it for me." He said it so nonchalantly, like it was just something that needed to be done.

Arthur had been distant since Ranoue had spoken with him. He had told Arthur about a prophecy that was about Emrys and the once and future king. It seemed to change something fundamental in the king that Guinevere could not see. The tone made her stomach dip and her heart ache. She felt the low burn of grief start to rise. He was resigned to his fate, and he wasn't going to stand in its way anymore.

Guinevere was brought out of her revery by the loud clanging sound of swords banging on shields, spear staff hitting the ground in a rhythmic boom, boom, boom, and the harsh chorus of shouts, whoops and hollers from the enemy army.

"Orders, My Lady?" Sir Leon looked to his queen for guidance.

It took a moment for Guinevere to gain her bearings, but once she did she turned on her heel and shouted out at the knights of Camelot.

"Archers!" Guineveres' voice rang with authority.

The archers jumped to obey their queen, the knights and scattered sorcerers moved out of their way as they charged forward. They formed a wall of archer three men thick. As soon as they were in position she watched in a sort of horrific fascination as Morgana's army started their charge. They flowed like water. Guinevere looked to Leon, and then to Gilli in a silent communication. Fear was a shared motion as the knights pulled their weapons. This was it, the battle they had all feared has come.

Guinevere pulled her sword free and raised it to the sky. She felt all eyes on her as she raised her voice to the heavens. "Fire!" she yelled, swinging her sword down like an executioners ax.

The archers in front took a knee and aimed at the charging men. The line behind knocked their arrow and aimed just over the first lines shoulders, as the third line did the same to the second. As one they let a volley of arrows slice through the sky, followed by another and another, but it made no difference. The arrows sliced off of them as if magic protected them.

"Sorcerers!" she suddenly shouted. Without asking what she meant a line of sorcerers appeared next to half the archers, bows in hand. Gilli, who still stood next to her raised his own bow to add to the volley, hoping to make a difference. The only arrows that hit its mark were the ones enchanted, but they just kept coming.

"Milady?" Gilli called. He lowered his bow, and looked at the Queen. She seemed not to hear him. Her eyes glued to the army that came at them, a wild wave of destruction come to destroy their home. "Milady!" Gilli tried again. Still no response. He sent a desperate look at Leon.

"We have to go, now." Leon pressed. Gilli nodded, sheathed his sword, and grabbed hold of the queens arm tugging her away from the front line. That got her attention. She pulled from his grasp.

"No, I will not hide." She turned away from them and to people around her. She noticed woman scattered throughout the army, even some as young as fifteen. They shifted nervously. She let her gaze travel over those closest to her and let her voice rise once again. "Do not be afraid. This is our kingdom, our home, and it will not be taken from us...Morgana cannot have Camelot," she paused. " I will not allow it." She added softer.

With all that needed to be said, said, she turned to the charging army with fire in her belly and fury in her chocolate-brown eyes. She raised her sword, the last sword her father had ever made- the one Elyan had fought with as a knight till the day he died.

Guineveres' shouted battle cry rose above the them. "For the love of Camelot!"

"For the love of Camelot!" Was the answering call all around her. Their shouts and hollers of "Long live the Queen!" or "Long live the King!" began to rising in volume until it sounded like rushing water to her ears. It lifted her spirits.

With Gilli and Sir Leon by her side, Guinevere and the knights charged forward like one living entity determined to fight for all they love.