AN: I don't know how, but somehow, it's been over a year. Since I don't want you to have to reread everything, here's a recap of each episode.
Episode One: In which Arthur and Merlin ride to Amata to rescue Gwaine and Percival. They end up confronting Mordred and the Heoler, who are there to rescue Morgana. Sarrum is killed and Merlin's magic is revealed to Arthur. In a final confrontation with Mordred, Sarrum's blade damages Merlin's magic and Arthur is badly wounded with the same sword. Merlin is trapped in the pit Morgana had been pulled from, while Mordred escapes with Morgana. Arthur is rescued from the castle, and Gwen sends him back to Gaius with Leon, while Elyan goes to secure Sarrum's castle and search for Merlin. In the meantime, Arthur and Merlin find themselves trapped together on an ethereal grey isle.
Episode Two: In which Arthur and Merlin must work out their differences in order to return to the waking world. Elyan and his men are routed from the Sarrum's castle and decide to burn it rather then let the sorcerers gain a stronghold. Gwaine disobeys orders in a desperate attempt to find Merlin before it's too late. Arthur reconciles with Merlin, but cannot accept his magic. Merlin decides not to return to Camelot, though he swears to continue serving Arthur. Merlin and Gwaine escape Sarrum's castle on the back of Aithusa, who had been trapped with Morgana. Arthur reawakens in Camelot.
Episode Three: In which Merlin and Gwaine are captured by slavers and taken to Essetir. There, Merlin learns that King Lot, a cruel tyrant, is Gwaine's father-in-law. Gwaine comes under threat of execution after trying and failing to kill the king. Merlin escapes and helps the other slaves form a rebellion along with the people of Essetir. Gwaine's life is saved by his sister Bridget, and together they overthrow Lot. Gwaine stays in Essetir as Merlin sets off again, leaving Aithusa- whom Gwaine affectionately calls Daisy- with his friend. Meanwhile, the Sarrum's wound robs Arthur of his warrior prowess, though he still feels an odd connection to Merlin through it. He confides in Gwen, who gives him the strength to press on. He decides to call a council of the rulers of Albion to determine the fate of Amata.
Now...
From the hand of Arthur, Utherson Pendragon, King of Camelot and Lord protector of all those therein:
Messengers thundered from the gates of Camelot, riding hard, each bearing a letter. Bearing hope.
Greetings Noble Friends,
The Sarrum of Amata is dead. He was killed by a group of renegade sorcerer's, led by the one-time Druid, Mordred.
A messenger nervously approached King Odin, handing him a letter. The stern, bearded ruler nodded coldly to the messenger, then shared a heavy look with the strong-jawed, dark skinned man at is right. He broke the seal.
No matter what any of us thought of the Sarrum and his methods, he kept order in his realm. Now, that order is now plunged into chaos.
Red hair falling around her shoulders, Queen Annis opened the letter silently. She revealed no emotion as she began to read, though she reached out to grasp the arm of the young man seated beside her. He had his father's dark hair, cropped short, but the sharp, pale features and sea blue eyes were all his mother's. He watched her face closely as she drank in the words before her.
The people of the land live in fear. Every day, they dread forces of other kingdoms. To often, the struggles of rulers, hungry for power, have swept over the innocent people of other realms, destroying their lives and livelihoods.
King Olaf's heavy features darkened as finished reading. His daughter, Vivian leaned over his shoulder, eagerly scanning the words that had come from Arthur's pen, as if she could look through them and see the man himself. Her beleaguered husband, standing nearby, sighed and pulled her to a more appropriate distance.
As fire sweeps through a forest, leaving pain and devastation in its wake, so can the greed of kings lay waste to the lives of those they ought to protect.
Smirking to himself, King Alined set the letter aside. His eyes grew distant as he planned his next move. His smile widened.
This is why I call on you now. No matter our differences, no matter the strife or struggles of the past, I believe that we all desire a brighter future.
Princess Elena finished her morning ride, and strode, smiling, through the halls toward her father's chambers. Entering, she looked around for the king. She froze when she saw him, sprawled on the floor, open letter beside his hand.
We all want what's best for our lands, for Albion. Open war could destroy us all. So, let us not quarrel and squabble over lands and lives that no one of us has more right to than the others.
Queen Bridget rushed to the practice yards. She spotted Gwaine helping a young man adjust his stance as he sparred. Hurrying over, she pulled him aside and thrust the letter into his hands. He shared a glance with her and started reading.
I propose a council. Each of you most excellent rulers is invited to send representatives to Camelot, or come yourselves. Together, we will sit at table as equals. We will lay our swords aside and prove that we are civilized rulers.
King Bayard clasped his son's shoulder, handing him the horse's reign. The sharp-eyed, bearded young man mounted. Nodding to his father, his urged his mount forward, blue cloak flowing behind him as he rode west.
Our people look to us to guide Albion to a better future, a future of peace and prosperity.
Straight-backed and steely eyed, Princess Mithian surged through the gates of Camelot atop her chestnut gelding. Smiling as a rush of memories flooded over her, she turned her mount toward the citadel.
If you are willing to turn away from the path of war, and join us in a new age of life in freedom, join us. We will be waiting.
Arthur watched the retinues arrive, one by one. Representatives of all the rulers of Albion had agreed to come together in Camelot. He felt his shoulders release a measure of tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. Since sending out the letter, a small, insidious voice in the back of his mind had been whispering that he was weak and foolish for reaching out. Part of him, the part that had given in so easily to Agravaine's wheedling words, had been sure that no one would come, that they would seize the chance to take Amata for their own.
That his leadership had failed again.
But no, they were here. No matter their motives or agendas, they were here, and they were willing to sit together and talk. The hardest part was over.
That's what Arthur thought, anyway.
Until Gwaine landed in the courtyard on the back of a dragon.
Morgana blinked.
She was in a cave. It was dark, but not black. Not like before. There was warmth, softness. She looked down and saw blankets, pillows cocooning her body. Her stomach felt comfortably full. Her head didn't ache.
And the sound. It drifted on the softly moving air to fill the space around her. She turned her head toward the cave's entrance, drinking it in. There were birds. Wind in the trees. Murmur of voices. Water. Laughter.
Morgana blinked.
Crows cawed, metal clashed. Screams, blood, smoke, red sky, DEATH—
Morgana blinked.
She was at the entrance of the cave. The forest was green and yellow all around, afternoon sun slanting through the leaves. She looked down. Two pairs of wide eyes looked up at her.
Morgana didn't blink.
"Hello," she said, words feeling heavy on tongue. It had been so long…
"Hi," one of the children said, shifting. It was a young boy. A girl, his older sister maybe, held his hand. Both regarded her curiously. She stared back.
"Win?" A feminine voice drifted through the trees. "Win… Tomlin… where did you get off—"
A petite figure came through the branches and froze upon seeing Morgana.
"Oh," the woman said, breathless, "Oh, Priestess, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were awake."
Her eyes darted between Morgana and the children. A bead of sweat formed on her temple. Morgana watched it slide all the way down her face.
Morgana forced her lips into a smile.
"That's alright," she said. It didn't sound quite right, but she pressed on. "I was just going… for a walk. I… I don't really know… my way around here yet."
Or where 'here' was. Or how long she had been free. Or who these people were.
Morgana blinked.
A ship, rushing on a fearful gale, plowing forward toward another—
Morgana blinked, and looked down to see a small hand in her own.
"We can show you," the boy piped up excitedly. The girl hung back, sensing her mother's concern. "We know all about the camp."
"A camp, is it?" Morgana said, stooping down to the boy's level, smile wooden on her face.
"Yup," said the boy proudly. "A camp full of people like us. You know," he leaned in, whispering, "People with magic."
A real laugh bubbled up from Morgana at the boy's earnest declaration. How long had it been since she'd had cause to laugh? She saw the mother's shoulder's relax slightly at the sound.
"Great Lady," the mother said, "We would be honored to give you a tour of the camp. It's not much, but it's a place of freedom and safety. For now, at least."
Morgana stood, smiling.
"I'd like that very much."
Merlin soaked in the solitude of the early morning. It was his second day of travel south and west from Lintone. His days were spent in quiet steps forward, smelling the dry, warmth of leaves on the ground, letting wind and rain pass over him as if he were no more than another tree in the forest.
He knew his destination. It was inevitable, unavoidable. But he didn't want to think of that. He was still making his way along the border between Amata and Essetir, and had many miles before him. He could imagine he was on his way to visit his mother, or running an errand to a nearby village for Gaius. He could even cast his mind back to years ago, walking alone across miles of wooded land to reach Camelot. Before destiny and dragons. Back when he was just Merlin.
How much had changed.
How much hadn't.
Merlin was startled out of his thoughts by raised voices coming from around the next bend. Cautiously, he left the road and crept over a small rise, peering through the trees at the path ahead. Three ragged looking men surrounded a smaller figure. Merlin couldn't hear their words, but he had seen bandits at work often enough to recognize them. Suddenly, one of them cudgeled the smaller figure over the head. He fell hard, but the bandits didn't let up, kicking and hitting him where he lay in the dirt.
Merlin's jaw clenched. He wasn't sure how much he could do, but he had to do something.
He crept back to the road where he'd been, then stretched out his hands.
"Cume þoden."
Wind swirled, picking up leaves, twigs, and dirt. Merlin could feel his magic shaking under the strain, almost buckling, but he held on. In moments, the windstorm had taken the form of a knight astride a stallion. Merlin sent it surging down the road with a final push. As he did, he folded in on himself, bracing his hands on his knees as his vision grayed.
Ahead, he could hear shouts of dismay and terror, then retreating footsteps. Swallowing down nausea as the world tilted giddily, he pushed himself to stand and made his way around the bend in the road. There was no sign of the bandits. The person they had set upon still lay in the dirt, but he was stirring slightly. Merlin ran to him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, placing a hand on the stranger's shoulder. The figure flinched, and Merlin drew back, trying to respect his space. "It's alright, they're gone. You're safe."
"With you?" he man snorted, "Not bloody likely."
Merlin's stomach dropped even before he saw the man's face. The face of one who had fallen to a crossbow bolt for the sake of Merlin and his destiny, years past. Merlin recoiled from the impossibly familiar face, stumbling, mind swirling in denial even as numb lips formed the well-loved name.
"Will."
AN: Thanks for sticking with me. I will be posting regularly for a while- one chapter each week until this episode is finished. It might be a bit of a wait after that, but I'm trying to devote more time to writing. I am humbled by the number of people that continue to follow, favorite, and review. I'll try not to disappoint, and I promise that I will continue to write until this is finished.