Warpath

by Estele

The rise of the High King. All's fair in love and war. Sequel to "Sighting"

7. Societas Subita

"Soooo…what do you think of the cheese in camp?"

Morgana is just about to answer Merlin's awkward attempt at breaking the silence when Arthur rolls his eyes.

"If that's the best you can think up, Merlin, you really are as stupid as you look."

Morgana only half-listens to the snarky exchange that follows as she scans the woods the five are riding through. Mithian shifts in her saddle.

"How much longer does it take to get to the pass?" the princess cuts in. "It isn't that I mind the ride, but if the distance from the expected point of attack is much longer, I don't know how the bait will survive."

Morgana swallows. That's her role Mithian is talking about. They've ridden for around twenty minutes already, the five of them, and though they haven't hurried it's clear that the speed will be significantly lower when the majority of their troops will be on foot.

Arthur seems to be thinking along the same lines, because he glances at her before turning to Mithian to reply.

"It should take no longer than five more minutes, my lady."

Mithian purses her lips and nods, looking at her brother with a hint of worry. The princess hesitates before she speaks.

"I can't help thinking that the bait would have swifter movement if it were made up of only Cornwall troops. They've trained together long enough to be unified, and I can't see how having an extra commander and troops from another country will help it in its mission."

Mithian wants her brother out of this, Morgana thinks. She knows it's too dangerous for Keredic, and she wants to protect her older brother any way she can.

Morgana agrees wholeheartedly. And, apparently, so does Arthur. He looks very much like he wants to tell Keredic to leave. But what he does say in reply is surprising.

"Prince Keredic volunteered in front of the Council of Kings. It is impossible for me to release him from his duty now."

Morgana looks at him sharply. "But-"

"The code of honor forbids it. Keredic volunteered himself, and Keredic must carry the task to its end." Arthur's frustration at the situation is clear as he speaks.

"Arthur-"

"And I intend to do so."

Keredic glares at Arthur as he speaks those words. Arthur glowers back, but does not say anything in reply.

Morgana looks between the two men, and sighs. She looks at Merlin in resignation.

"So…about that cheese?"

---

The five minutes it takes them to reach the mountain pass feels like an eternity to Morgana. The conversation is stilted, with Arthur brooding, Mithian worried, and Keredic a little resentful. Morgana herself is distracted, not only from trying to memorize the terrain and the way but also from trying to repress the memories of the kiss – her kiss – so she doesn't blush. This really isn't a good time for that, she knows. And the path is getting narrower and less woody, so she really should pay more attention now.

They ride for a little more before Arthur brings his horse to a halt.

"We're here."

They all dismount. Morgana looks up at the twin cliffs between the narrow path.

"Lovely. Will you be able to position your troops here, Princess Mithian?"

Arthur raises his arm to point out the various ledges which could be used by the bowmen.

"There. The ledges extend the length of this pass, so there shouldn't be any problems."

Mithian squints up, and Morgana follows suit. The shrubbery is stunted from the high winds expected of the altitude, and it obscures the ledges satisfactorily. As Arthur has said, this is as good a place for ambushes as any.

"We'll have to climb down to the ledges beforehand," Mithian says with a moue. "I'm assuming the back way is less…dramatic?"

Arthur chuckles a little. "The other sides of the cliffs are gentler inclines. You need not worry." He smiles at her. "As my lady says, once the troops reach the top, they will need to climb down or be lowered onto the middle ledges."

"They won't be able to escape if they're attacked from above," Morgana tells him. "What are you planning to do about that?"

Merlin coughs. "Actually, I don't think the Saxons know much about the geography here. I doubt they'd find a way to lie in wait after the bowmen are in their place and before the bait comes through. And by then, they won't have any interest in anything but the bait."

"Hmm." Morgana looks at the winding path. It is two meters wide at the start, varying as it progresses. She cannot see the end. "How long did you say it goes for, Arthur?"

"Six leagues*." Arthur chuckles a little at her surprised expression. "I did say it was quite long."

"If it's two meters wide on average, four men can pass at a time," Mithian remarks. "You wanted four thousand men caught in the ambush. Approaching at the regular marching pace, it would take two hours for the entire army to be inside the ambush zone. The ambush can't start until the last of them have entered the kill box."

Keredic looks a little pale. "Two hours?"

"We'll have to march double time for two and a half hours without being wiped out for the ambush to be successful." Morgana affirms. "It's not going to be pretty."

"The archers can't begin the attack until then, so it's up to you to stay alive. Once they're in, of course, we'll only need you to bottleneck the exit." Mithian's looking at her brother with a little worry as she speaks.

Arthur nods. "It would take four hours for an army of that size to reach the other exit. So even if they pass the kill box, it would take a while for them to escape. That's why we'll need you to seal the other opening."

"You'll be wanting us to bring the goods back after the battle," Morgana notes. "We'll have to push through the pass another hour to keep the supplies away from the ambush and prepare to deal with the few escaped ones."

Merlin, who has been listening to this tactical exchange silently, suddenly asks a question.

"Doesn't Mithian only have two hundred archers? How are you going to cover six leagues with those numbers?"

Keredic tilts his head. "The other nations will add their archers to the ranks as well, I'd think."

Arthur shakes his head. "Even with the ranks bolstered, we have less than seven hundred archers all told that are good enough to be allowed in the ambush."

"You can't even cover a league with that," Merlin protests. "How are you going to pull it off?"

Mithian looks up at the cliffs. "I have been told we have no shortage of arrows," she comments. It is a half-question, and Arthur nods to confirm the statement. She smiles.

"We won't have the ambush line the whole pass. We'll simply have our bowmen lie in wait at the two ends of the procession. The middle will have nowhere to go."

Morgana is impressed, though she tries to keep her face blank. It is a very good strategy, what Mithian has suggested. After all, the bowmen only need to bottleneck the two exits. The army will all pass through the two zones in their rush to escape, and as disorganized as they would be after two and a half hours of chasing the supply chain, the rush would add to the effectiveness of the strategy.

"If we're going to attack from both ends, we'll need to create distance between the bait and the front of the Saxon army at the very last minute," Morgana remarks. "We need something to slow them down."

"Maybe nets, or booby traps?" Keredic suggests. Mithan quirks her head.

"Those would work, if we could use magic to have a quick release. They'd have to be set up in the place the Saxon vanguard will reach when we start the ambush.

Arthur nods approval, and Morgana pouts just a little.

"Let's go through the pass once, so we know the
terrain," she sighs. "I'd like to know exactly where we'll be wandering around so I know what I'm talking about when we bring the generals here. "

Keredic peers at the path. "And we're sure this place is safe?"

Arthur shoots him a look. "Nothing's safe," he grunts as he walks to the front. "Come on."

The four follow him in. Mithian keeps looking up to note the positions of likely ledges for ambush. She cranes her neck again.

"Ah!"

Arthur catches Mithian as she falls bumping into Merlin. "Careful."

Morgana's mouth twitches. "It wouldn't do for you to be injured before the battle, Princess Mithian. Rest assured we will examine the ledges from above. I'd prefer if you focused on the ground for the moment."

Merlin discreetly raises an eyebrow at her as Mithian smiles. She hasn't noticed the snap in her voice, or has elected to ignore it. "I'll look where I'm going from now on," she says.

Morgana nods back as cordial as she can.

"Let's go a little faster," Arthur says, impatience clear in his voice. "I'd like to get through here before midafternoon."

Morgana glances around the narrow path and internally agrees. She quickens her step to match his, and soon the whole group is moving at a brisk pace through the cliffs.

It takes two hours for them to go past the narrow cliff-lined pass. When they finally come out into wider terrain again, Morgana sighs.

"It is a good place for an ambush," she says. "But it's going to be as difficult for us as it is for them to move, especially when we're carrying the supplies."

Keredic looks nervous. "Can't we just transport them straight to our own camp with magic in the beginning? I think we're cutting it too close."

"We can't," Morgana replies. "The reason the whole army's going to be chasing us all this way is because we're dangling the supplies in front of their eyes. If we don't have it, only a few will come after us."

Keredic's face seems to say he doen't think it's a bad thing for less of the enemy to be pursuing them. Merlin looks at him.

"In any case, transport with magic would take too much energy. Can you imagine how much supplies you're going to have? Even if you set up a two-way spell, it would spend too much magic."

Arthur frowns. "When you made the courier spell for me and Morgana, there was no limit to the size of the package, was there?"

Hearing him, Keredic looks as if he wants to say something. Morgana speaks before he can.

"Technically, it did. The cat was the biggest that could be sent, and it wasn't exactly safe for it either. The spell is- how should I explain this- it made a….a wormhole, of sorts. A tunnel that led directly from the ring to the necklace. Everytime you used it, it spent a bit of the magic we imbued in the trinkets. And it really isn't safe for any live creatures."

Arthur blinks. "Words came out of your mouth," he said, "but they didn't make sense."

As Morgana takes a deep breath to stop herself from hitting him, Merlin explains.

He spreads his arms. "Ring," he says, flipping his left hand palm up. "And necklace." He flips the other hand's palm up. "Connection," he says very slowly as he brings the two hands together. "Things go through." He twiddles his fingers. "Magic."

Morgana chokes back laughter as he continues to speak very slowly. Arthur looks at him with a look of absolute disbelief.

"Big package." He forms a circle with two hands, and then shakes his head. "Magic can't move."

"Alright, that's enough," Arthur snaps.

Mithian coughs a little. "Thank you for that informative lecture, Merlin," she says. "Your majesty, if we could go to the top of the cliffs now?"

Morgana turns around, but then freezes as she sees past the trees.

"Arthur. Is that our camp I'm seeing there?" Her voice comes out more abrupt than she would like.

Keredic looks at where she points. "I think you're right, Morgana. That's definitely the Plains of Peredor."

"It's…it's this close to the rear of our camp? But it goes through the mountains!"

Arthur looks at Morgana. "I did tell you the pass goes around the Black Mountains and comes back to Peredor."

"But the exit to the pass leads directly to the battlefield! If we somehow let a few Saxons get past the kill box, they'll go straight for our camp." Morgana bites her lip in worry.

"So we'll make sure none of them get through," Mithian replies in a determined voice.

Arthur looks at the scene of the camp below. "Of course, my lady. But Morgana has a point. The bait is to carry the supplies back to camp, and it will be dangerous through this pass. But more importantly, the Saxons can go from this end of the pass during the battle. And the cliffs can be accessed from this end."

Keredic pales a little. "Mithian, you could be attacked if they get here from that end."

The princess looks at her brother. "It won't be a problem. We'll pick them off as well."

"The majority of your bowmen will be on the ledges," he argues. "If they get to the cliffs, you're going to be attacked from above. You'll be slaughtered."

Morgana looks at the siblings, then at the pass again.

"We'll cover your retreat."

They both turn to look at her. "Pardon?"

"The bait. Once the ambush is over, we'll block the junction of the pass that leads to the cliffs. Take the time to move out of the ledges into a less dangerous position. Maybe provide backup to Odin's forces. We'll join the battle from this end."

Merlin raises an eyebrow. "So basically you're going to have the bait be a part of the main forces surrounding the Saxon army after the ambush?"

"It won't come to that," Morgana shrugs. "We'll be behind the formation. Hopefully, we won't see any action. But we can't spare any forces, you know that."

"Fine," Arthur says. "But call for backup the minute things get bad."

"Of course," Morgana answers, her smile saccharine sweet. "I'll play nice and let you in on the fun."

"Be sure you do," Arthur grins. "I wouldn't want to miss a chance to save such a lovely princess."

Merlin rolls his eyes before Morgana can reply. "Would you two please cut it out already? We have guests here. One of which is a princess, Arthur. Be more specific if you're going to say stuff like that."

Morgana glances at the two siblings, startled. Keredic has the half-mortified, half- angry face again while Mithian looks- thoughtful. Thoughtful and a little 'don't mind me, I don't want to get involved'.

Damn it. She shouldn't be like this in front of other people. In private, she could be a little lax. But she shouldn't go around teasing and arguing and- and kissing Arthur in public. Oh god, she did kiss him though. In front of Keredic. And now she's blushing just thinking about it- today's been absolutely wonderful hasn't it?

Arthur turns back in the awkward silence.

"We should go around to the cliffs now," he comments to nobody in particular. "We should hurry, or we'll return late and it'll get dark."

Morgana nods quickly. "Let's get going."

Mithian suddenly quirks her head. "We left our horses at the other opening, didn't we?"

Arthur nods. "You saw how the terrain was. Horses would be cumbersome."

"Then how are we going to move the supply wagons through for the ambush?" Keredic asks, frowning.

"Those are dragged by donkeys," Morgana tells him without meeting his eyes. "They'll be able to handle the bumps."

"Then we're not going back for the horses?" Mithian questions again.

Merlin smiles. "I can summon them later. Magic, remember?"

Arthur sighs. "Can we go already? The sun's already hanging low. And it's a long walk."

"As my lord wishes," Morgana says demurely. "Shall we?"

Merlin groans again, but starts off. The rest follow, with Arthur taking the lead. They wind through the trees, and it is a while before they can feel the incline. It steadily becomes steeper as they walk on.

"How much further?" Keredic huffs as he wipes sweat from his brows.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "We've not even gone halfway," he says in a voice that is clearly Judging Him. Merlin pants as he walks.

"Maybe for you buff military types it's easy," he groans to Arthur, Morgana, and Mithian, all of who seem relatively unfazed. "But for us civillans, it's no joke."

"Come now," Morgana smiles, "even the girls are doing better than you lot." She pauses. "You are very accustomed to this, Princess Mithian," she says thoughtfully.

"Too many ambushes," Mithian shakes her head. "We always climb. Always."

Keredic makes a face. "Serves you right for choosing to form your archery group."

"I'm not the one who's nearly dying from a light hike," Mithian retorts.

"This…This isn't so bad," he puffs. "Remember how Father made me run up and down that hill twenty times each morning?"

"Well, Father made me make the new mantelpiece with embroidery. That was worse."

"Father made me survive in the woods for a week. Alone."

"My father would have me duel every knight each day before he would let my lessons end," Arthur breaks in tonelessly. "I was five."

Merlin sighs. "Now you're joining in as well? Is this some sort of 'my father was worse' competition?" He is summarily ignored by all four royals.

"My father had me practice not sleeping for dayswhen I was five," Morgana retorts.

Arthur growls. "Oh, you think that's bad? I had to start leading troops into battle when I was fifteen."

"I was participating in battles when I was eight."

"You were only scouting!"

"Still beat you by seven years."

"It's not like I wasn't in battles until I was fifteen!"

"Defensive now, are we?"

"Well, my father had me chasing down criminals from when I was seven."

"Accompanied by all your knights, of course. And I learned how to kill before I was seven."

"Well, my father had me attend executions from when I was six."

"My father made me practice interrogating criminals when I was that age."

Mithian clears her throat to get their attention. "May I just say that you both had the most twisted parents in all of Albion?"

"Yeah," Keredic agrees. "What sort of parent does that to their children?"

Morgana and Arthur glance at each other. "It's…complicated," Morgana says. "And I apologize. It wasn't something to boast about."

"Well if you hadn't started it…" Arthur grimaces.

Merlin snorts. "What they're not saying is that their utterly deprived childhoods were indirectly because of each other."

"What?" Arthur chokes. Morgana frowns at the sorcerer.

"The reason your parents had you both grow up so fast was because your nations were at war so much, wasn't it? With each other. Camelot and Cornwall were always fighting. So it's technically both your faults."

Morgana opens her mouth, then closes it.

"That…actually makes sense, Merlin."

"So all my misery was your fault?" Arthur asks, outraged.

"I'm sorry," Morgana snaps. "I wasn't the one who started the wars."

Arthur shuts up. Morgana bites her lips as she realizes she's gone too far- Arthur still has problems with daddy issues. She shouldn't have said that.

Even after knowing Arthur for years, there are still times she can't grasp him. Usually being with him is easy- too easy, almost second nature. She can banter with him as she can with no one else, and he can keep up with her insults. His are blunter, but that's acceptable as well. But sometimes, she crosses him the wrong way. They're still learning about each other, after all. His daddy issues are the least of it.

Mithian raises an eyebrow in the sudden silence. "So, when did you meet Princess Morgana for the first time? I don't think you mentioned her when we first visited."

Arthur pauses. "I didn't know her when you visited for our engagement. I was nineteen then and you were seventeen, I think."

She nods. "And we both realized what a terrible idea it would be to marry each other."

"Yes," he chuckles. "We agreed on that. I met this terror," he raises his chin in Morgana's direction, who glowers, "in the Camelot-Cornwall war that happened around a year after that. We nearly killed each other."

"I nearly killed you," Morgana mutters. "It was not reciprocal."

Arthur ignores her. "And we just kept running into each other ever since."

"It would have been easier on me if I'd just killed you then."

"But of course you couldn't. Not when you saw my good looks and charm-"

"Both of which are nonexistent-"

"You couldn't kill me, that's the point."

"I could have."

"You didn't."

"For gods' sakes, stop bickering." Merlin cuts in. "Seriously, it's like you guys came here on a date and we're chaperoning."

"We are not on a date!" Morgana strains out at the same moment Keredic shouts, "They are not on a date!"

Mithian blinks. "What's gotten you so invested, brother?" She smiles. "I think it's sweet."

Morgana opens her mouth to argue, but Arthur clears his throat to get their attention.

"We're near."

Morgana raises an eyebrow. "Where?"

Arthur grins. "We're high up right now. Look." He points up. "That path goes uphill, then plunges into a fifty-foot cliff."

Mithian's eyes gleam. "This is…"

Keredic peeks a look down. "Horribly terrifying? Yeah, me too."

"No," his sister says. "This is amazing. This is-"She grins widely. "This is going to work."

Morgana can't help smiling as the princess lights up, bright and burning and focused. Mithian paces around the edge with no fear of falling, muttering about sight lines and range and placement. The rest trail after her, taking note of the many ledges and the dizzying height. There are flowers in bloom, and the scent wafts through the air. The sun is falling lower and lower, yet it is hot enough that they are all sweating. Morgana begins to wonder if maybe Percival did have the right idea with no sleeves. There is no breeze, and Keredic and Merlin soon grow tired. They walk for another half-hour before the men both sit down and demand they rest. As they wait, Mithian climbs down onto one of the lower ledges and mimes shooting arrows. She smiles as she climbs back up.

"This is perfect."

They walk back the entire pass through the cliffs, until the cliffs give way to a rock pile. Arthur nods.

"This is it. We can't go down the cliffs from this end- we'll have to go around the long way."

They walk down carefully, trying not to trip as they maneuver through the rough terrain. They go far enough away that the cliff edge is no longer visible. Merlin sighs with relief as they enter the forest again.

"Finally, flat ground."

"Stop being dramatic," Arthur scolds.

"Camelot really is a beautiful place," Mithian says wonderingly. "I don't think I've had the pleasure of being here when I was last here."

"You had to stay inside the citadel most of the time," Merlin shrugs. "Camelot is quite large. It's no wonder."

"Even in the Festival of Istara I wasn't allowed to wander past the forest near the citadel of Camelot," Mithian says ruefully. "Keredic was allowed to go."

"If it makes you feel any better, sister," Keredic replies, "I enjoyed it about as much as I enjoy practicing how to beat up people. But the scenery really was beautiful." He looks a little regretful. "I'd have enjoyed it more if the point of the trip hadn't been killing random animals."

Morgana looks at them reminiscing so easily, and feels yet another stab of unseemly jealousy. She has known Arthur for almost six years now, but she still has yet to see much of his kingdom. It is not as if she hasn't spent a lot of time in Camelot, either. Morgana has resided here for a year and a half at least. When was the last time she had been able to sightsee the beauty of Camelot? Arthur had arranged for some basic tours the first time she had visited, in the months she had negotiated over the first peace treaty. But there had been magical threats all over the place, and being head of the diplomatic retinue was too large a role to allow much time for that. And when she had been invited to stay with him as a member of his council, after Cornwall had sworn fealty to the beginning of this war, she had been far too busy. First with the business of raising Arthur to the High Kingship, and then with the preparations for war. There had been no time for idle outings.

Come to think of it, had she ever spent time with Arthur in a way that did not relate to their duties? It had always been formal balls and reconnaissance and quests and councils and diplomacy. Never something done simply for fun.

Maybe Arthur thought of her as nothing more than a steady ally and a good friend, after all. And the kisses- well, he was a red-blooded male and she was an attractive woman. It could be nothing deeper than physical attraction.

She would like to do something with Arthur just for the pleasure of it, Morgana thinks wistfully. Something frivolous and absolutely useless, just to know he wants to spend time with her. And then she slaps herself mentally, because they're in a war and gods, she's really getting soft. Remember your duty.

But she's wrenched right back into those soft thoughts when Prince Keredic suddenly calls to her.

"You should visit Nemeth, my lady," he says a little shyly. "We could ride around the Gedref area. It really is a sight to be seen."

Morgana blushes a little. That- that would be nice. A trip without any strings attached. "I would enjoy that. If- if it wouldn't be too troublesome, of course," she adds hurriedly. "And after the war has been won."

He smiles happily. "It's decided then. As soon as the war is over, we'll prepare for your arrival." He looks at her. "See, isn't it nice to think about what happens after, as well?"

It's a throwback to one of their earlier conversations, when he had talked about what it would be like after the war, and she had replied with a depressing outlook. In truth, she would not have time to visit for a long long time, occupied as she would be with rebuilding Cornwall. It would have been overrun by the Saxons now.

But as she opens her mouth to reply, Arthur suddenly claps a hand over her mouth.

"Quiet," he hisses. "There's something here."

Morgana wrenches his hand off. "What do you mean, you-"

She stops mid-sentence as she sees movement. "Hide!"

They crouch behind trees and peer at the shadows. As they watch, men in coarse clothes and light armor move through the branches not ten steps from where they are.

"Saxons," Arthur breathes. "We can't afford to be seen here, or they'll be suspicious of this area."

Morgana counts. "At least fifty. It's a foraging party."

"We can't fight so many, and even if we did, we can't kill them all off. Some would escape," Merlin whispers back. "We have to leave now."

Morgana bites her lips. "We won't be able to do it the conventional way, will we?"

He shakes his head. "You take Princess Mithian. I'll take Arthur and Prince Keredic. We'll go to where we left the horses."

Teleportation. Morgana hesitates, trying to gauge how much energy she has left.

"Hurry," Merlin hisses. "Arthur, Prince Keredic, we need to hold hands." Gingerly, the two men each grab onto one of Merlin's hands. Merlin sighs in exasperation.

"You need to hold hands as well," he tells them. Arthur and Prince Keredic look at each other in horror.

"Do we have to?"

"It's either this, or you guys have a bear hug with me in between. I think this is better," Merlin says, impatience making his voice snappy. Morgana holds out both hands to Princess Mithian, and she takes them.

Morgana watches the men disappear without so much as a puff of smoke. Merlin's spell is neatly inconspicuous. Muttering a prayer under her breath for safe passage, Morgana visualizes the opening of the pass and chants the same spell.

Something jerks her forward strongly, and it feels like she's going through a giant wind tunnel with violent gusts at her back. Princess Mithian is holding on to her hands tightly, but she cannot see anything in the darkness.

There is another jerk, and she is spit out into the world again. Princess Mithian stumbles as she lands on the grass.

"That was…interesting," she says. Morgana barely hears her, a wave of nausea and pain rising up in her. She can distantly see the men have made it safely, and that's all she's able to think before her stomach heaves and she falls on her knees to vomit.

She heaves again, the sharp acidic taste burning her throat. Someone comes behind her and gently holds back her hair. She's sick two more times before the nausea subsides. A hand offers her the water skin, and she accepts gratefully. Once she has rinsed out her mouth and cleaned herself up, she looks up to see Princess Mithian giving her an understanding look.

"Motion sickness?" the woman asks kindly. "It was a rough trip."

Morgana gets up shakily, swallowing. "No."

Princess Mithian says nothing, only helping her walk away from the puddle of sick. Morgana's pride rankles at having the princess see her like this, but she needs her support to keep walking right now.

They reach where the men are standing around awkwardly. Arthur frowns, looking concerned.

"Are you alright, Morgana?"

She twitches her lips up half-heartedly. "I hate teleportation."

"I didn't know you'd react so violently with the spell," Merlin says. "Do you get seasick too?"

She glares at them both. "I do not have motion sickness."

Keredic speaks up. "Is it the magic, then?"

He's hit the nail on the head. Though Morgana is reluctant to admit it, she nods. "Teleportation uses up a lot of energy."

Merlin frowns. "It's not that bad," he says. He doesn't even seem winded, despite having moved the three of them over a sizeable distance. "I guess it takes up a lot of magic, but it's not so much that you'd get sick over it."

"Merlin," she sighs in exasperation. "Have you ever gotten sick over any type of spell?"

Merlin slowly shakes his head. Morgana glares. "Just because your magic is about as strong as the forces of nature doesn't mean everyone else has the same amount of energy," she says. "Carrying two people here…"

Keredic winces. "It's the backlash, isn't it?"

Morgana leans back against a tree. "I'll be fine in a little." Her head spins, and she really doesn't want to ride all the way back. There is a brief pause, then Arthur speaks reluctantly.

"We should return soon."

Morgana keeps her expression inscrutable. "If we must."

It's easier said than done, because the minute Morgana tries to walk to them, another wave of fatigue comes over her. It must have shown on her face despite her attempts, because Arthur looks at her before opening his mouth.

"You'll be riding with me."

"What?" Morgana lets herself lean weight on the tree again. "Why would we do that, Arthur? I have my own horse."

"You'll fall off the horse at that rate," Arthur retorts. "And Merlin can have your horse go back on its own." He takes his horse's reins, and walks over to her. "We don't have time to spare waiting for you."

Before Morgana can protest, Arthur lifts her up by her waist and places her on the saddle. He gives her a smirk before getting on the horse behind her. With his larger frame, she's almost cradled in his arms.

"Come on," he calls to the rest of the group, who are more or less staring at them now. "The sun has started setting."

"Arthur," Morgana hisses. "You're giving them the wrong idea about us."

Arthur doesn't budge as he gets the horse going. "That's unfortunate."

She gives up, leaning against him in resignation. With one hand on the reins, Arthur starts playing with her hair with the other. It is strangely comforting. They lead the others through the forest as the sky grows redder.

"Feel better?" he whispers after a while. Morgana smiles just a little bit, because she knows he can't see her face right now.

"I would feel better if you weren't babying me," she tells him.

"What a pity we sent your horse away already."

"And whose fault would that be, hmm?"

"Well, if somebody hadn't gotten sick, she could have ridden it."

She digs an elbow into his ribs. "That was none of your business."

He lets out a harsh exhale that tickles her neck. "Woman, your elbows are lethal," he winces, then urges the horse on a little farther. Morgana glances back at the distance created between them and the remaining group.

"Morgana, how powerful is your magic?"

The question is unexpected. Morgana opens her mouth, then frowns.

"What's gotten you so interested?"

Arthur takes one hand off the reins to run it through his hair absent-mindedly.

"It's just that…I've been thinking."

"Horrors upon horrors," Morgana can't help mocking. "Arthur Pendragon is thinking?"

"Do be quiet," he retorts good-naturedly, then turns serious. "I've been thinking that maybe I've been too ignorant of magic all this time."

Morgana is startled- and a little impressed. The Arthur she'd known in the beginning had flinched at any displays of magic. That he is now showing an interest….

Well, it seems he's growing into the High Kingship as much as he is making it grow.

"I was speaking to Merlin, a while back," Arthur continues. "He told me magic was just another force, and that it wasn't good or bad or anything like that." He leans forehead against her shoulder. "I never even knew that."

Morgana doesn't say anything. Arthur speaks again, almost as if he is talking to himself.

"If I'm to be High King, I'll need to rule over the magical community as well. And I don't even know how it works. Merlin helps, but sometimes I get the feeling like he's an anomaly even within the magic-users."

Anomaly. Right. More like the most powerful magician in living memory.

"So I guess you're the only one I can ask," he concludes. Morgana twists around to look at his face.

"…Who are you and what have you done with Arthur?"

Arthur sighs. "You could take me a little more seriously, you know."

"Wait, is this why you had me riding with you? And why we're separated from Merlin and the Nemeth siblings?"

He shrugs, but doesn't deny it. "I thought it was a touchy question, especially since you weren't faring too well after that spell…"

Morgana turns back to face the front and pouts. "I'll have you know I'm doing better than how most magicians would be if they had to transport two people."

"Is it really that difficult?"

"Arthur. Back when you were…" here she bites her lips a little, "chasing sorcerers, how many of them tried to escape using teleportation?"

"Uh…" There is a brief pause. "There was that one time with a witch who tried to kill me, with a great big whirlwind. Some bald wizard, although that turned out to be Merlin in the end. Not many."

"And you never wondered why all those magicians that died in the Great Purge never bothered to teleport away."

"I didn't know anything about magic," Arthur says defensively.

"And you also lack common sense," Morgana says, then sighs. "It's because the spell takes too much energy."

"Hmm?"

"Teleportation. Can you imagine how much energy it takes for someone to move from one place to another? Add it up and imagine having all that energy leave your body at once. Not only is the spell difficult in the first place, it takes a huge physical toll. Too much, for many people. More often than not, an inexperienced caster will simply…burn out. Or blow up."

"…That makes sense."

"I can tell by your voice that it didn't." Morgana replies dryly. "Which part?"

"By energy, do you mean your life force? Does that mean everyone can use magic if they wanted to?"

"Ah." Morgana tries to think of a good way to explain. "Magic-users are different from non-users in that they can change regular energy into magical energy. It's an inborn thing- it comes in your blood. Novices with only that talent will use little amounts of the energy from the body to perform spells. But others- either they've been born with it or they've trained- have magical energy they can call on to use for spells. It can be built up, or you can just naturally have a huge store of magical energy. That's what causes the disparity in magical power, from hedgewitches to, well, Merlin." Morgana suddenly smiles. "This is terribly boring, isn't it?"

"Hmm." Arthur shrugs, his upper arms brushing Morgana's shoulders with the movement. "So Merlin's terrifyingly powerful. And I've been having him wash my socks for years. That- actually makes me feel good about myself."

Morgana leans back against his chest. "Prat."

"Why didn't you have Merlin transport us all back, if you knew teleportation would be too much for you?"

"Number one, it was not too much for me. I'm not dead, am I?" Morgana retorts. "And number two, what Merlin has in power he lacks in finesse. Teleportation is a nasty spell, even for one person. If he was transporting all of us, or even the four of you, there was a greater probability that he would have left out or dropped at least one of you on the way. Or parts of you."

"…Parts of us."

"Things happen," Morgana says. "Sometimes a hand or a foot doesn't make it with the rest of you, nothing big."

"…Nothing big."

"Yes. In any case, it would have been too dangerous. Three was what we thought was the maximum safest number for Merlin."

"That's why you took Mithian." Arthur blinks. "And here I thought you just wanted to see me holding hands with both Keredic and Merlin."

"I assure you nothing of the sort ever crossed my mind," Morgana says primly. "I was busy throwing up."

"So you're not that powerful."

"What is it with your wanting to know how powerful I am, Arthur?"

Arthur groans. "You really have no idea, do you?" One hand snakes around her waist and pulls her tighter to him. "You just mentioned people burning out over that spell, body parts being left behind, and other frankly terrifying possibilities that could happen to you. I'd appreciate knowing what you can and can't handle so I can stop you when you're being especially pigheaded."

Morgana opens her mouth, then closes it. "That…was actually sweet," she says.

"I don't do sweet," Arthur protests half-heartedly, then pauses. She can almost feel his hesitation, the way he's trying to find the words to broach a delicate topic.

"What is it, Arthur," she half-sighs, already resigned to the fact that yes, it will be a touchy subject, and no, she's not going to be able to avoid the talk. Not when they're on a horse together.

He hesitates for another second, then speaks. "A week ago, you were…interrogating…the captured generals with magic."

Morgana's mouth tightens, but she does not speak. She had been surprised when he had not stopped her even after he had seen what she was doing; she should have known it would have come up eventually. Magic and morality cast too large a grey area for Arthur to be comfortable.

"Merlin was… very against it. We had a talk about different types of magic then, and I think I get how Merlin's magic works now. But yours, with your visions and psychopathic mind invasion- which I think is extremely creepy, by the way- well, I thought I should hear from you first."

"Oh." Morgana supposes she should be grateful that he is willing to give her a chance to explain what she is before condemning her actions. This is at least better than his usual modus operendi of jumping to conclusions first. But she can't help being uncomfortable with explaining her magic. If only he could understand.

Well, he's giving her one chance to make him understand. She had better take advantage of it.

"I told you that all magic uses energy to do things with your mind. Well, there are two main branches of magic- spiritual and physical. Physical magic is the most common; it's everything from making things fly to blasting things apart. But some people are born with magic that's of a spiritual bent, things like the Sight and mental powers and healing. For example, the High Priestess's power is made of spiritual magic. And that's the kind of magic I was born with."

Arthur listens quietly, still against her back. Bitterness seeps into Morgana's voice though she tries to keep it even.

"Do you know how useless spiritual magic is? You can't do anything tangible with that kind of magic. My whole store of magical energy is suited for spiritual magic. I have to convert that energy every time I use physical magic, so my magic runs out more quickly." She smiles bitterly. "When I was young, they didn't even know I had magic because I couldn't show the usual signs like summoning light or telekinesis."

She's whining again, she knows. There are people who would be glad to have a fraction of the magic she's received. But she can't help being jealous of the easy power other magicians have. When you're surrounded by giants, it's difficult to be happy with the little you've been given in comparison.

"You've the Sight, though," Arthur offers slowly. "Not even Merlin can see the future."

Morgana snorts softly. "There are seers across the sea who can sweep through the thoughts of an army with a glance. People who can see the whole future. Mine-" She reigns in her resentment at having been dealt this hand by fate. The people I've killed haunt me for days because of the Sight, she wants to say. I can't even sleep properly because the visions are always horrible, always unfathomable.Instead, she stares at the scenery in front of her.

"You wanted to know how powerful my magic was. In terms of effectiveness in physical magic, I'm completely overshadowed by Merlin and my sister both. I would have perhaps one-third the firepower my sister wields if it came down to it." She shrugs. "So when it comes to things only I can do, like extracting information from minds, I do it."

Arthur is silent again for a long, long time. Then:

"Would you be able to read my mind?"

Surprised, Morgana twists around to look him in the eyes. He stares back, inscrutable and waiting for an answer.

"Arthur." She doesn't break her gaze away. "Arthur. This one thing I promise you on my life. I will never use my magic against you. Not to attack you, not to see your thoughts. I swore fealty to you that day in Camelot, and I will not break my oath."

His hand trails down her hair. "I never said you would."

"Then don't doubt me." I have killed for you, and I will do so again. Do not doubt my loyalty.

Arthur pauses, then speaks quietly. "I won't."

She slowly turns back around to face the front, then lets herself lean against him.

"If it makes you feel any better, when I go into people's minds they can sense it. And the spell itself requires special arrangements like having the victim directly facing me. You need not worry."

Morgana can feel Arthur's chest fall as he lets out an exhale of breath. "To be frank, Morgana, that wasn't quite what worried me."

"Then what?"

Arthur grunts. "It's nothing."

"Hmm." They ride in silence for a little while. The thick forest has given way to a grassy field. The ground is starting to get muddy, and Morgana thinks she can hear the distant burbling of a brook. The noise of the summer insects fill the air.

"Are you really going to go visit Nemeth?" Arthur suddenly asks.

"Ah…" Morgana blinks. "Ye…why do you even want to know?"

"You'll be too busy after the war," Arthur states confidently. "There's no need to get Keredic's hopes up."

"And how is this any of your business?"

"I'm just worried that the poor boy's going to be disappointed when he finds out you won't be visiting after all."

Morgana turns back to look at him again. "You don't want me to go," she accuses.

"Well, imagine what he'll make the servants go through," Arthur blusters. "All for nothing."

"Maybe I will go, then." Morgana says defiantly. "It isn't like anyone else ever invites me to go sightseeing. Or have fun."

Arthur splutters. "I invited you to stay at Camelot."

Morgana turns to the front. "To sit in the Council of Lords. And then to act as your unofficial tournament organizer and foreign minister. And then to prepare for the Saxon War. And then…"

Arthur cuts her off. "Are you actually sore about that?" He must have seen her half-pout because he continues in an incredulous voice. "You are. You're sore because I never took you on outings."

Morgana's pout only grows more pronounced. "Of course not," she responds haughtily. "I'm just saying it was very nice of Keredic to invite me to his kingdom."

"You're impossible," Arthur says. "Utterly impossible."

"Well, aren't you acting jealous," Morgana scoffs. "Just because Prince Keredic was being a perfect gentleman…"

"He's a pansy!" Arthur protests. "And he fails utterly as a knight. I don't see there's anything to be jealous of."

Morgana rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to retort when someone cuts in.

"Uh…Arthur? Not that I want to break into your fascinating conversation, but I don't think this is the right way." It's Merlin.

"Of course this is the right way," Arthur snaps back. "Do you think I'd lose my way in my own…" he looks around, then swears. "We're going the wrong way."

Merlin gives him a look that screams 'no kidding', and Morgana groans, leaning her head against the horse's neck.

"We're never going to be back by sunset," Merlin sighs. Arthur gives him a look.

"Where are we, exactly?" Morgana asks without expecting much.

Arthur's eyes sweep through the landscape again, and then falls upon some rolling hills to their right. "We're in the Forest of Essetir. We need to go east."

Morgana looks up to gauge the reddening sky. "We might as well take a break by the waterway here for dinner before heading off," she says. She glances at Merlin and smirks. "Some people might not be able to survive the ride back otherwise."

"Yeah, yeah," Merlin rolls his eyes. "Pick on the warlock."

Arthur nods as Mithian and Keredic stop at their side. "There's a river a little ways ahead. We'll have dinner there, and return to Camelot."

As expected, it is Keredic who groans with relief. "Finally," he grins. "I can't feel my behind anymore."

His sister nudges him. "And we did not need to hear that."

They make their way over to the bend in the river, where they dismount and let the horses drink. But it turns out they are not alone.

"Who are you and why are you here?" A foreign voice snaps at them from behind. Morgana whirls with the rest of them to see a blond couple walking towards them, the man scowling belligerently. They are both armed, and Morgana instinctively scans the woods behind them for more potential threats. Near the edge of the woods, where the couple seems to have come from, there is a wagon of what seems to be contraband items. A sudden breeze blows, and Morgana smells the distinct fragrance of frankincense. Arthur, who seems to have noticed the same thing, frowns.

"You're smugglers," he accuses. Oh, Arthur. Always so tactful. But neither stranger look to be offended, only glancing at each other.

"We prefer to think of it as free trade," the woman says. The man chuckles before adding, "And what if we are? We're only trying to make a living with what we can."

"It's forbidden," Merlin remarks. "By the edict of the king, if you're caught, you could be killed."

The man grins again. "Caught? I don't think so. We're too quick and too smart for the halfwit king in Camelot. If it weren't for the fool laying down taxes and making things harder, we wouldn't be in this business. Nobles, they're a plague on the land, all of them" He stops and peers at them. "What's it to you?"

Arthur bristles, and Morgana glaces over to see Merlin place a restraining hand on the king and hissing something at him. It seems to work, because Arthur doesn't say anything. Merlin steps forward after that.

"We're…travelling. Got lost on our way, actually. Some nasty Saxons came and chased us. Say, aren't the Saxons more troublesome for you than some king's taxes? I mean, the whole invaders-looting-the-countryside thing would make things hard for you."

The man relaxes a fraction, probably assuming that they are not highborn from Merlin's way of speaking. "If the nobles are a plague, those Saxons are a disaster. The one thing those high-and-mighty people in their castles are doing right is trying to fend them off. At least they're using the money they stole from the people to do something useful."

"They really are a pain," Merlin agrees. He glances at their wagon. "I'm Merlin, by the way. This is…Artie, and…Ana, and- uh- Keredoc and Mithia. Who are you?"

The man and woman exchange looks with each other, and the man shrugs. The woman steps forward. "I'm Isolde. This is my partner Tristan."

"Partner?"

Isolde nods. "For life."

Tristan puts a hand on her shoulder, then gives them a scrutinizing look. "You don't look like regular folk. Something about you…" He focuses his gaze on Keredic, who squirms. His glare intensifies. "You. You're all nobles, aren't you?"

Merlin puts up his hands. "Number one, no. We are not all nobles. Number two, why would you say that?"

Isolde speaks a little dryly. "We're not stupid. His belt buckle is decorated with some sort of crest, and it's embedded with jewels." They all glare at Keredic.

"Not just him," she adds. "Ana there. Impressive sword." Isolde holds out her hand. "May I?"

Morgana hesitates before handing it over. It seems they've caught on to their lie, but she can't risk looking even more suspicious and antagonizing them by refusing. Not to mention that Isolde and Tristan could be working together with others who could potentially cause more problems. It isn't even as if the sword is her regular one. It's just one she's borrowed from Camelot's armory as one of many back-ups when they rode out to Glauchedon and then Peredor. It shouldn't give them away, if Keredic hasn't done so already. Isolde scrutinizes it, then hands it to Tristian.

"Magnificent." His gaze sharpens, and he suddenly draws it and puts it against her throat. Damn it. She tenses. How much magic left in her reserves? Would she able to push him away without him reacting faster? "The only place you find workmanship of this quality is the royal forge of Camelot. Tell me, how did you come by it? I didn't know they'd started recruiting girls. A girl who wears a jeweled necklace at that."

Morgana starts, then slowly slips the ruby necklace, which has moved to show itself sometime during the ride, back under her shirt. The sword stays against her throat. She knew she should have taken the necklace off before scouting. That was the point of going incognito, so they wouldn't be recognized as more than peasants.

But it's the one Arthur gave to her.

And she still should have taken it off. Behind her, she can hear Arthur muttering something like "you all fail at being peasants" under his breath. He doesn't sound as annoyed as she'd expected him to, for some reason, though he sounds almost afraid.

"So…so what?" Merlin asks, eyeing the sword and Tristan, then sighs exaggeratedly. "You've got us," he says. "We're not actual travelers."

As they stare aghaust at him, and Tristan and Isolde look distinctly unimpressed, Merlin forges on.

"We're pirates," he says triumphantly. Morgana just drops all self-control and stares.

"We're…pirates," Arthur repeats slowly, as if he's only heard of it just now. Which he has. As has Morgana, and the rest of their group. Where does Merlin get these ideas in his head? Morgana would bury her face in her hands if there wasn't a sword preventing any sudden movements.

"Pirates," Tristan says quizzically. It seems like they're going to be standing around repeating that for a while until it sinks in.

"Pirates!" Merlin says. "All those things you've just noticed, they're not actually ours. We just looted a trade vessel and thought we'd come inland for a little rest. This sorry excuse for a pirate," Merlin gestures at Arthur, "gets seasick. We met up with some knights on the way, so that's where M…Ana got her sword."

After a pause, Isolde shrugs. "Fair enough." She looks at her partner and shrugs. "Same line of work."
Tristan sighs, but slowly lowers the blade. "Are you sure you're pirates?"

"Pirates. Yes, of course," Merlin nods enthusiastically. "By all means. We're pirates."

Tristan squints. "I hope for your sakes that it's true." He sheathes the sword and tosses it back at Morgana. Isolde looks at Merlin strangely.

"You seem very happy about that fact."

Morgana steps forward. "He's usually like this. Merlin here is living a lifelong dream. The rest of us, we just got into this after the Saxons attacked our village. It's…surprisingly lucrative"

Merlin nods almost maniacally. "I should have become a pirate ages ago. We're all pirates now, so I guess it makes up for it."

Isolde giggles a little. "And here we were thinking you were knights of Camelot." She looks at Morgana and smiles. "Sorry about the misunderstanding."

"Yes, right, Merlin," Arthur says a trifle impatiently. He looks at the now relaxed couple. "Are you two the only ones smuggling here?"

Tristan shakes his head. "We've some help and…associates that we work together with. There's a lot of us. But Isolde and me, we had some scouting to do." He jerks his chin at the wagon of contraband. "The goods came early, so we had to pick it up ourselves."

"You say the Saxons attacked your village?" Isolde asks. She looks - heaven forbid - sympathetic at their fictional plight. Morgana can already feel a headache coming on. "It was brutal. None of us like to talk about it," she says in a clipped voice.

Isolde nods again. "Sore point. Got it." She smiles, and Morgana notes that the blond woman really is very pretty. "We have those too. For example, Tristan here will go on for ages about the King of Camelot- and all nobles, actually. Don't get him started."

Arthur looks like he is fuming, but again Merlin somehow manages to calm him down. Just in time, because more of the smugglers' associates pop up from the forest.

"Isolde, Tristan," a muscular man calls. "Got the shipment?"

Tristan gestures at the wagon. "Here. We met some folks on the way."

Merlin speaks up. "Er, you haven't seen any Saxons passing by around here, right?"

"Sometimes we do," Isolde shrugs. "We've sighted them once in a while; this could be some sort of trail they use."

Arthur is instantly alert. "A trail?" He looks at her. "Do you know for what?"

Tristan frowns. "I've only seen small groups around since the war began, but some of my men have seen wagons. Big ones." He raises an eyebrow. "What's it to you?"

"We're pirates," Merlin repeats for the umpteenth time. "We don't want to run into Saxons. Plus there's got to be a supply trail nearby here because of the Saxon camp."

Tristan thinks, then calls a man over. "Balt!"

The brunette man lumbers over to them. "You called?"

"Balt here was the one who saw the wagons nearby," Tristan says to Merlin. "He can tell you."

"Aye," Balt says. "Hundreds of wagons, filled to the brim with goods. They looked Saxon from their dress, marching all in line. A whole procession, actually."

"A procession," Merlin frowns. "What did the wagons have in them?"

"Couldn't see, but all sorts of things. Hay, probably for horses, and grain. Some game."

"Thank you, Balt. Where did you see them?"

"Ah," the man looks around. "Actually, it'd be around-"
His sentence is cut short by an arrow suddenly sprouting out of his chest. As the corpse that used to be Balt slumps to the floor, everyone whirls. Morgana can see Arthur shoving Merlin down as he ducks, another arrow embedding itself in the tree behind him. Everyone takes whatever cover they can.

Arthur takes charge. "Head for those trees," he tells Tristan and Isolde. "We'll cover you. It's dangerous out in the open when they've got arrows."

Tristan and Isolde exchange a confused glance. The blond man steps forward. "Who do you think you-"

"Do you want to live or not?" Arthur asks impatiently. Isolde grabs his arm, and they retreat with their men to the cover of the woods. The sliding of weapons unsheathed fills the woods. Arthur turns to look at the four remaining.

"Merlin and Morgana, stop as many arrows as you can," he orders. "Mithian, you're with me."

Keredic lets Arthur borrow his own crossbow, then tries to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Arthur and Mithian fire at the Southrons as Morgana tries to shield them and Merlin drops or redirects as many arrows as they can. Morgana frowns as she pants, the magic taking an even greater toll on her after the transportation spell though she should have recovered.

"Why don't you just make a shield?" Morgana asks Merlin in between chanting the spell.

"Don't know how!" Merlin calls back, eyes flashing gold. "Never learned it!"

Arthur frowns. "They're not running out of arrows. It's our turn to retreat."

"Who's going to cover us?" Merlin says.

"Don't be a simpleton, Merlin," is the reply as more Saxons keep coming. The five grab their weapons and run into the woods. They take cover behind various trees, where Isolde and Tristan has been waiting.

"I apologize for ever thinking you were a knight of Camelot," Tristan tells Keredic. "They may be incompetent, but they're not that incompetent."

"Thank you," Keredic replies. "…I think."

Isolde peers at the Saxons coming into view. "They haven't found the cargo."

"They will," Tristan growls. "Besides, they weren't after the cargo." The men in Tristan's band are luckily too far away to hear. They await their orders a little ways away, taking cover as well.

"But you four," Tristan's voice is accusing. "You knew they were coming. That was why you kept asking about the Saxons, isn't it? Who the hell are you?"

The four exchange looks. Merlin shrugs, and Arthur seems to have made a decision.

"My name is Arthur Pendragon."

Tristan recoils. "The king of Camelot! You're the reason the Saxons were here, isn't it? I've lost everything I've worked for for some good for nothing king! "

Arthur glares. "That's quite something coming from a smuggler."

"Well, I wouldn't have to be a smuggler if it wasn't for your damn taxes, would I?"

"Those taxes help protect the people of this land," Arthur retorts.

"My people are dead and the Saxons are taking over. You call that protection?"

Before Arthur can snap back a reply, Merlin clears his throat.

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but…" The sorcerer gestures at the Saxons charging at them. Morgana internally debates on what she should do before she forgoes magic for unsheathing her sword. Arthur and Tristan charge out at the coming Saxons, neither ahead of the other. Merlin starts going through his arsenal of battle magic, starting with throwing people into trees. Mithian backs up before reloading her crossbow and shooting the Saxons at close range with impressive accuracy. Morgana nods at Isolde, and the two swordswomen rush out to attack the Saxons as well.

This band is smaller than the one they'd nearly run into at the mountain pass. Morgana estimates at around thirty Saxons as she slashes her sword down into a gut, then around to slice an arm. She ducks as Isolde swings her sword expertly in a killing move.

With the aid of Mithian and Merlin, the band is growing smaller in number. The handful of the smuggling band fight as well, nullifying the Saxon's advantage in number. Morgana is so caught up in bringing down the Saxons and covering Isolde's back that she almost doesn't see a burly man elbow Tristan in the head. As Tristan reels, the Saxon slashes the smuggler's sword arm, deals a light blow to his shoulder, then kicks him to the ground. Grinning, he raises his weapon to deal the final blow. Isolde cries out, but before Tristan is impaled a blade sprouts out of the Saxon's chest from the behind. The man crumples. Arthur pulls his sword out of the now dead man.

Isolde runs to Tristan and holds him, supporting him half-up. Morgana barely glances at her before she curses and whirls to deal with the Saxon coming at her now unprotected back. She dodges the axe he swings, then knocks him on the shoulder as his momentum carries him forward. Before he can raise up the sword again Morgana plunges her sword into his heart.

She looks around. "Is that the last of them?"

Arthur gives her a brief nod, then tilts his head at the blond couple on the ground. Mithian unloads her crossbow and comes closer.

Isolde is cradling Tristan's head.

"Tristan, we had a deal. Partners for life, remember?"

Tristan grins. "When…when have I not kept my promises?" He hisses in pain as he moves his shoulder. "Takes more than this to bring me down."

Isolde smiles back, her eyes still worried. Tristan tugs her down for a kiss.

Morgana and Arthur's eyes meet unconsciously. She blushes and looks away. They wait for the intimate moment to pass quickly. It's thankfully cut short by the sound Keredic makes as he walks closer.

Arthur coughs, and they break away to look at him.

"We need to keep moving," Arthur says. "If what Balt said was true, this is the trail for the supply chain. That could have been scouts or the vanguard. There'll be more coming soon."

Isolde bites her lips while Tristan glares, raising himself to a sitting position.

"Then go," the man says. "There's nothing stopping you."

Arthur rolls his eyes, then meets his glare. "You and your men won't be safe here."

"Come with us at least until we're out of range," Merlin urges. "We'll all be safer that way." Morgana first thinks that the two Camelot men are doing it out of the goodness of their hearts, that they are trying to keep Tristan and Isolde safe despite their being smugglers. But then she realizes what would happen if Tristan and Isolde's band left by themselves. Not only have the two seen the high king and his generals scouting this place, they knew too much about the region from their occupation. The two probably knew the geography of most of Albion like the back of their hand. And since they lived outside the law, there was a possibility that they could willingly join the Saxons and bolster their ranks. Some of the outlaw bandits had already done so, after all. And from what she had seen, Tristan and Isolde were a formidable force to reckon with in terms of swordsmanship.

"I'm choosy about the company I keep." Tristan's face had hardened.

Isolde supports his back. "He saved your life, Tristan." She looks up. "Thank you."

"None of this would've happened if it wasn't for them. If the high and mighty rulers of the Ten Kingdoms hadn't decided to use here for the battlefield, we could've gone about our business without Saxons popping out everywhere."

Isolde sighs, a hand stroking his hair. She seems a little exasperated.

"You need to protect Isolde and your men," Arthur argues. "It's too dangerous here. They need shelter and rest."

"We can heal you," Keredic unexpectedly speaks up. "You need your sword arm to fight."

Isolde looks up in surprise. "Please," she says. "Tristan…"

His eyes then flick to Isolde, who looks at him pleadingly. "I cannot bear to see you injured like this," she whispers.

Tristan growls, looking at Arthur. A pause, and then he gives in.

"Very well. But know this, Arthur Pendragon, I would never do this but for Isolde's wishes. You and your kind bring nothing but misery to this land."

There is a rustle behind them, and all of them turn, on guard. Isolde and Tristan's band are checking their cargo, some of which has been burned and ruined. But the sound had come somewhere closer, on the ground. They look down.

One of the Saxons, with a huge slash in his chest, is struggling to rise. They draw their weapons, but it is clear that the man is in no condition to fight. Arthur frowns.

"Some of them are alive." Merlin looks a little sheepish.

"I think I knocked out the people I fought. I'll go gather them."

His eyes flash gold, and he looks at them. "There's around thirteen still alive, either wounded or just unconscious." While he uses magic to bind each survivor and line them up, Morgana closes her eyes to go through the possibilities of what would happen if they left the captives alive, if they dragged them back. Then something niggles at her mind, and she realizes it's magic, life-bond magic. She opens her eyes. "They can't be allowed to live."

"Huh?" Merlin freezes in the middle of his work. "But…but they're captives, Princess Morgana."

"Nonetheless, we can't risk them escaping and informing the Saxons of our movements. We just found the supply trail. We can't let them know that we have done so." She grits her teeth, hating what she will say. "Go. I'll take care of them and catch up."

"That is dishonorable," a new voice speaks. Morgana braces herself for another argument with Arthur. She turns to face the voice.

It's not Arthur. Arthur looks grim, but he looks like he knows that what she is saying is necessary. Instead, it is Mithian who has spoken up, her brows drawn together.

"It is dishonorable, and as the defenders of our people we cannot kill in cold blood. These are helpless prisoners," she says. "They were only doing what they were told. How can we be so cruel?"

Morgana takes a breath. Does Mithian actually think these are innocent people who were simply caught up and forced into service? This is war, and there are no innocents in war who pick up arms. And innocence meant nothing but death.

"When the Saxons took over Glaus-en-tours in Cornwall they beheaded all the inhabitants of the citadel and had their heads line the walls," Morgana says dispassionately. "After the first battle at Peredor they disposed of all their Albion prisoners by execution. This is not a war for dominance, Princess. It's a fight for survival on this land." Her eyes flick to glance at the princess's pale face. "Step aside. I won't patronize you by explaining the importance of eliminating all possible leaks when you already know."

"But that doesn't mean we have to lower ourselves to their level!" Princess Mithian cries, standing her ground. "These men are helpless. We need not murder them in cold blood. What makes us justified to fight for our people if we're just as bad as they are? "

Morgana grits her teeth. She yanks one of the captives up by the collar and scans him before ripping out a button. "You see this, my lady?" she asks. "It's a homing signal. I'm assuming it's bonded to the man's life force. As long as the man's still alive, the rest of their squad can find where he is." She just wants them to go already, to let her do the sordid job and get it over with. Her mind is already despairing at the sleepless nights the deaths will bring.

Mithian turns to Keredic. He shakes his head. "It's magical, that's for certain, but I don't know if that's true."

"It's true." Merlin says grimly. "I hate to say it, but it's true."

"What do you think will happen to our ambush if we drag these captives back to our headquarters? And what will we do with them?" Morgana demands. "Princess Mithian, I do not wish to shed unnecessary blood. But if leaving these men alive means having our men lose their lives in an unequal battle once again, I will move you aside by force if I have to. Go. Let me take care of them."

"Merlin can have them die painlessly," Mithian retorts. She seems resigned, but there is resentment and disgust still simmering underneath. "They could be taken care of in any number of ways. Why are you so determined to be their executioner, if not to satisfy your own bloodlust?" The words sting.

"Princess Mithian, that's enough-" Arthur begins, face stormy. Morgana cuts him off.

"Do you think I wouldn't rather have Merlin do it?" she asks in a low voice. She looks at Mithian and suddenly smiles. She's weary and bitter and oh, she could have been like Mithian once upon a time, she could have lived like that if not for the tangled web already woven by their fathers, and she knows then she probably looks deranged right now.

"I would rather he do it than me," she says softly. "But I wouldn't wish it on him for the world."

Mithian frowns. She opens her mouth to say something, but Morgana cuts her off with a shake.

"I've already given a lecture on the consequences of magic to Arthur here, I won't give another." She looks at the other princess. "And would you really have Merlin, who already agonizes over every casualty and every choice he makes, shoulder that burden?"

There is nothing more to say. Arthur's face is dark as he nods to Tristan, who calls to his men before having them all walk away from the scene of battle. Mithian glares at her for one, two, three seconds before turning without another word and brushing coldly by her. The wagon, now carrying half its original cargo, is turned around and taken through the woods, as are their horses. Morgana stares at the sprawl of broken bodies and blood until she can no longer hear their movements.

The setting sun dyes the western sky a dark crimson red.

---

When Morgana catches up to the main party, they have already set up a place for camp. The people look up when they see her walking towards them but say nothing. They do not mention the blood that must surely be dripping down her hands even after washing it in the creek. Some of the smuggling band seem to be engrossed in a knife-throwing competition.

Mithian refuses to look at her, and Morgana feels a stab of what seems like sadness. She is mystified by it- they had never been close friends, her and Mithian, and she shouldn't feel anything about just another person disapproving of her methods.

Morgana looks at the princess for another minute before she realizes: she is feeling sad, and regret. Morgana had liked Mithian, respected her. Had been grateful, how Mithian seemed to understand, how she hadn't judged her like the men had, how she had been supportive even when they were barely acquaintances. How Mithian had shone bright, just like Arthur.

Merlin's just as disapproving as Mithian, but she's used to that now. She hardly feels anything, though she would like to think Merlin is her friend. Merlin would be able to move on and talk to her if she just gave him some time to process what had happened.

Arthur nods at her, neither disapproving nor approving. Morgana nods back; this at least is a relief. She is grateful for this small mercy.

But Keredic- Keredic is a surprise. When she sits by the fire, Keredic slowly takes her hand.

"You alright?" he asks. Morgana looks at him, startled.

"Of course," she manages to stutter. Keredic gives her a smile, sad and regretful and kind all at once. She doesn't know how to respond.

A beat, and he lets go of her hand and stretches.

"I was waiting for you so we could heal rest of them will prepare dinner while we do."

"What?" Morgana's eyes turn round with surprise. "Could you repeat the first part?"

"I was waiting for you so we could heal Tristan," Keredic says patiently. "You're going to help me."

"Oh," she says. "Of course. But wouldn't it be better to let Isolde, or your sister, or even Arthur do it? I'm clumsy with bandages."

Keredic shakes his head. "I'll be needing you to heal as well."

Morgana opens her mouth, then closes it. "Would now be a good time to mention I can't heal?"

"Don't give me that," Keredic says. "I felt it the minute I met you. You know it too, don't you?"

Oh no. No. No. No. Morgana doesn't - shouldn't - can't heal. Spiritual magic be damned, she was not going to do that. Not after Nimue and the choice she'd made.

"Get Merlin to do it," is the first thing that blurts out of her mouth. Keredic raises an eyebrow. Surprisingly enough, it's Arthur who replies. He looks at her and speaks for the first time since she arrived.

"You told me yourself this afternoon Merlin's magic wasn't compatible," he remarks. There is no blame in his tone. Morgana still glares.

"It's okay if you don't know how to do it," Keredic coaxes. "I'll teach you what to do. Your magic's right for it."

Morgana looks at him. "Something will go wrong. Wouldn't it be better for you to do it alone?"

Keredic lets out a small huff of breath. "Too little magic for that," he tells her apologetically. "Healing Tristan's shoulder will take up all my energy."

Damn Keredic and his nonexistent magic supply. Morgana hesitates.

It is Isolde who deals the final blow. "Please," she says quietly. Morgana stares for a little, wishing she was anywhere but here. She bites her lips.

"If he dies it is not my fault."

Tristan gives a half-growl, half-chuckle. "Such confidence, Princess." They must have revealed all of their identities while she had been…behind. Morgana glares at him for good measure, then jerks her chin and Keredic. The prince supports Tristan and leads her to the spot already prepared for them.

---

Isolde watches the three leave with a worried eye. Arthur glances at her, then at Morgana leaving. She looks pale. And she had behaved uncharacteristically just now. That she would so emphatically refuse to do something she could do is startling. Perhaps there was something there.

"They know what they're doing," Merlin reassures the smuggler. "Well, Keredic does."

"He's been learning about healing since he was a toddler," Mithian affirms. "In Nemeth, he's renowned as a healer."

Isolde nods. "Thank you."

Arthur is quiet as he contemplates the situation. Isolde and Tristan, as well as their band of smugglers, should be punished if he were to follow the laws of Camelot. With death, even. Yet he could not bring himself to think that they deserved it. Even if it was not necessary for him to have them with him, not only to keep an eye on them but to prevent them from going to the Saxons, he would have wanted to help them. This worries him, because in the end Tristan blames him for their circumstances. If he had done something, would they have lived as peaceful villagers, some other life?

Mithian glances at him.

"I would like to ask you something," she starts. Arthur nods for her to continue. "You let Princess Morgana…dispose of the captives without any protest. Yet I know you to be the most honorable king in the Ten Kingdoms. So why did you let her?"

Isolde looks interested, and Merlin's face is unreadable. Of course Mithian would ask. She would be as shocked as he had once been. Arthur stares into the flames before speaking.

"There was no victor in the first main battle at Peredor," he begins. "You were informed, Princess Mithian, were you not?" Mithian nods. "Part of the reason- the official reason- is that we could not communicate well enough to attack in tandem. That is true. But the battle itself could have been on more advantageous ground."

Mithian looks like she is confused by the random story. Arthur speaks again.

"And that was my fault. Two weeks before that battle, the Saxons had not established their camp in Peredor. Princess Morgana, along with King Cenred, were ordered to disrupt their campbuilding."

Isolde is listening intently, though Arthur cannot imagine why. Merlin already knows this story, but he too seems to be listening. He glances at the far-off figures of Morgana, Keredic, and Tristan before resuming.

"As you have seen, Morgana is…brutally competent. She and King Cenred wiped them out. When I arrived, even the unarmed camp followers had been killed. There were some prisoners, but many more of the defenseless were dead." He runs a hand through his hair. "You can imagine how I reacted. I essentially demoted her to prevent her from doing so again. Then I forbade any of the other generals from attacking the defenseless."

Isolde looks at him, surprised. "You forbade the killing of unarmed camp followers?"

"They were women and children," Arthur says quietly. "They were not to blame."

"You would not have them killed," Mithian nods. "It was the right thing to do."

"The Saxons made their camp at Peredor after that." Arthur's voice is toneless. "We were pinned down, and we could no longer send reinforcements to the other besieged regions. Meanwhile the Saxons pillaged the countryside, free to do as they wished. Then the battle happened." He looks down. "I realized then that I had sacrificed thousands of my men for that choice. Morgana had known that. And now-" he waves his hand. "Much as I wish we did not have to go against the codes of chivalry, I knew as she did that we could not let them live. It was just that she was more forthright in her knowledge. In a way, she took the burden from me."

Mithian opens her mouth, but does not speak. Arthur looks at Morgana's figure in the distance again.

"When I see Morgana, I don't see a beautiful princess or a skilled warrior. All I can see is the fierce loyalty that burns in her. She'll do anything to protect her people. Morgana…She can see clearly what is needed. And she will do it, no matter how distasteful it is, so others will not have to do it." He smiles absently at himself. "Sometimes I think she loves too hard."

There is silence. Arthur's brain finally catches up with what his mouth has been saying, and he flushes under his tan.

"You love her," Isolde says. It is strange, how she says the words with calm confidence, not sentimental but sure. "Have you told her?"

"What?" Arthur splutters, then struggles to maintain his dignity. "Of course I love her. As a friend. As a valued ally. Like a sister. I don't need to tell her that."

Except he'd kissed her very passionately just an afternoon ago. But they didn't need to know that. And she was too focused on the war for him to even bring up this topic.

"So do you often flirt with your sister like that?" Merlin snorts.

"Shut up, Merlin."

"I think it's true," Mithian offers. "Siblinglike love is what you see between Keredic and me. You and Princess Morgana…It's like a tragic love story begging to be written." Arthur barely manages to stop himself from snapping at her.

"I don't quite think that's true," he grits out. "And must it really be a tragic love story?" Honestly, he's had more than enough close calls with Morgana to not be apprehensive even thinking about Morgana being hurt. With her being poisoned, stabbed, having blood poisoning, and suffering some sort of insomnia, his worry for her is starting to take over his mind. And now he had to send her to be head of the most risky part of the battle. He would rather they not tempt fate.

Mithian smiles, but it is sad, sweet. "I wish you both would see what's right in front of you. It's not very common, you know."

"There will come a time when you'll need the strength," Isolde says, closing her eyes and raising her hands to the warmth against the coming barely-autumn chill. "And love is stronger than anything."

Arthur's lip twists up. "I'll keep that in mind. Now can we please talk about something other than my love life?"

"But it's so interesting," Merlin tells him. "There's practically a pool going on about it."

"What?" Arthur shouts. He starts arguing with Merlin as Mithian and Isolde look in amusement.

---

"Are you sure you're alright?" Keredic asks Morgana after the long lecture. Morgana nods a little dazedly.

"I think I understood around half of what you said."

"Good enough," Keredic shrugs. He looks at her. "Remember, you heal the bones first, then the nerves, then the blood vessels, then the muscles, then the skin. You know the words, right?"

Morgana nods again, a little pale. In truth, this isn't the kind of healing she'd been afraid he'd ask her to use. This is the ordinary speeding up of natural healing type magic. Nothing like what she was supposed to have learnt- but that was in the past now. Now if only she could gather the confidence to do this.

"I'll be taking care of the shoulder. You've got…quite a large supply of magic even after the teleportation. You should be fine with the arm wound." Keredic chants a little spell while placing his hand over Tristan's bandaged wound. "The bone only has a hairline fracture. So you don't need to worry about resetting it."

"A hairline fracture. Okay." She can do this. It's only a simple, simple growth spell. She can do this.

Keredic notices her nervousness. "You'll be fine, Morgana." He grins. "If you weren't already so capable and busy, I'd beg you to become a healer. You've the talent for it. It's much more suited for your magic than all this battle magic."

Morgana grimaces. "I'll pass, thank you."

"Could you get on with it?" Tristan calls from his seat. "I've been sitting here for half an hour."

Keredic gives her one last nod, and they head over to Tristan. Keredic puts his hand on Tristan's shoulder, and Morgana mimics the way he does it as she places her palm on his arm wound.

"We'll be starting now," Keredic warns Tristan before starting the steady flow of chanting. His eyes turn a very dim yellow. Morgana gulps and closes her eyes before starting her own spell.

As the unfamiliar words roll off her tongue she can feel the two sides of the paper-thin fracture inching together excruciatingly slowly. She keeps chanting the spell, wondering at how fracture starts melding together from the end, getting shorter and shorter as the bone is healed. When finally the smallest end merges and the bone is whole, Morgana opens her eyes.

"Good work," Keredic says, already in the second phase of healing the shoulder. He's stopped chanting, healing the tissues with his willpower. His eyes are still yellow.

"You…you checked up on how the armbone was healing while still continuing your own spell?" Morgana asked, frowning incredulously. "How are you doing that?"

Keredic shrugs. "Practice. You can feel what's happening to the whole body when you use magic if you do it often enough." He mutters something and frowns, his eyes flashing once. "Better." His eyes regain its grey hue, and Keredic smiles. "You alright?"

"Ah," Morgana is startled at how fast he can transition between healings. "Yes. I'll start work on the nerves now."

"You'll have to pulse your magic in for that," Keredic reminds. "You'll do fine."

"Could you…make sure I'm not doing something wrong, at least for the first part?" Morgana asks quietly. She's not used to asking for help, but she would rather drop her pride then have Isolde trying to kill her because she put Tristan's arm back the wrong way.

"As you wish," Keredic nods. Morgana takes another deep breath, eyes closed, before placing her hands on the now-flesh wound again. Her eyes snap open to reveal fierce gold as she begins pulsing magic. The nerves on the inside are the first to heal, and Keredic seems to be guiding her magic to make this easier for her. Morgana can even let her concentration falter for a little without any problems. Fortunate enough, because Tristan seems to want to ask her something.

"One thing I want to know," the man groans as Morgana pushes small pulses of magic into his wound, trying to knit the nerves together. "You don't look like the bloodthirsty type. In fact, you look…argh, you trying to kill me?...like you could fit in perfectly with all those useless ladies at court. So what's the thing making you throw yourself into war? Don't tell me you actually care about the peasants."

Morgana pulses a little more magic than necessary, making Tristan curse again. Keredic opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it when Morgana smiles sweetly at him and says, "The nerves are almost done now. I think I'm doing it right."

Keredic nods and goes back to treating the smaller graze on the man's shoulder. Tristan winces again. Keredic's left his magic safety wheels on the nerve system at least, so all she needs to do is supply the energy.

"Well?"

"Of course I care. We all care. That's why the whole of Albion united to drive the Saxons away, isn't it?" That's the last nerve done. Morgana takes her hand off and shakes it, trying to get the numbness out of her fingers.

"You aren't answering my question," Tristan grimaces, moving his arm, to which Morgana grabs it to stop him from aggravating the wound. "Why are you so keen on doing the dirty things like killing witnesses?"

"It's my duty," she tells him, then turns to Keredic. "So how do I go on with the blood vessels?"

Keredic demonstrates how to find the severed vessels by pressing down with magic, and then how to coax the ends together to heal. The severed vessels act like organisms in their own right, making this even more distinctly uncomfortable for Morgana. Broken promises and that ever-present disappointed expression on Nimue's face floats to the forefront of her thoughts, but she surpresses it.

"Do you think you get it now?" Keredic asks, sealing one more capillary. Morgana quirks her head.

"Is there a way to make the whole thing heal at once? All this finework is making my head hurt."

Keredic smiles. "If human bodies were so easy to fix, we wouldn't need healers. Unless you can somehow call on the life-force power of High Priestesses, at which point you could just snap your fingers and have it healed, we're stuck doing this piece by piece."

Morgana winces inwardly at the mention of High Priestesses once more, then pouts a little.

"It's…really tedious, isn't it?"

"Think of it like a really complex puzzle," Keredic grins. "It's a gift, you know, to be able to coax the cells together. Only certain people. Merlin there wouldn't be able to do it in a million years."

"And are you always in this good a mood when you're healing?" Morgana asks dryly, before turning her attention to doing what he's shown her. Tristan blinks at her.

"You finally remembered me."

"Yes." There is a brief silence as Morgana tries to get the hang of merging the severed ends of a small capillary together. She's sweating by the time it finally works, but she feels confident enough to try one of the bigger veins.

"You must be pretty dedicated if you're willing to kill just for 'duty'," Tristan comments after a while. Morgana frowns at him.

"Keep talking and I might stick the wrong blood vessels together."

She trickles a little more magic, just a bit more, and the cells finally merge to form a whole vein. Morgana sighs in relief, and Tristan gives her a look.

"It's more than duty, then," she tells him. "It's for Arthur. I fight for the people, but I kill for Arthur. He's more than just king by birth. Ask any of his men. They'd do anything for him."

Tristan looks askance to where Arthur is sitting by Merlin, Mithian, and Isolde. He seems to be shouting at Merlin. "Him?" Tristan smirks. "Doesn't look like much of a king."

Morgana's already started on the other big vein. "And yet the ones under his command would follow him to hell."

Tristan looks thoughtful. "So you can slaughter helpless captives for him. That's a frightening amount of loyalty."

"Arthur is…different," Morgana mutters as she focuses on his arm. "He's…he's good. Worthy."

"I don't see what you-" Tristan pales. "My arm feels strange."

"Oh no," Morgana says, eyes widening. "I did something." She panicks as the man's arm starts spasming. "I knew this would happen, I told you to stop talking. Prince Keredic! Keredic, I think I spliced the wrong veins together!"

Keredic stops his own magic and looks up before going over to her side. "It's alright, Morgana, just-"
"What do you mean, it's alright? You messed up my arm!" Tristan snaps.

"Wait, one moment-"Keredic moves his finger down the wound, leaving a glowing trail. The arm stops spasming, and Tristan sighs in relief. Keredic looks at her. "There, I swapped it. No harm done, see?"

Morgana's breathing heavily. "I think maybe I shouldn't be doing this."

"You were doing fine," Keredic soothes. "It's only-"

"I think she shouldn't be doing this either," Tristan interrupts. Morgana glares, but nods. Keredic sighs.

"We can swap then," the prince suggests, with a wry look on his face. "But I'm not going to be fit for much if I take care of the whole arm. My magic's not that big."

Morgana waves her hands. "That's perfectly fine. I'll do your share of whatever work you're given, just don't make me do the arm. I could have made him explode."

Tristan pales again. "Woman, you only tell me that now?"

"It's princess to you," she snaps. "Don't call me 'woman'."

"Alright, alright," Keredic comes between the two. "Work on the shoulder, Morgana. Tristan, I do need silence to make sure it heals properly."

They both acquiesce, and the healing starts again without any further ado.

---

By the time they are through, Keredic is near dropping with exhaustion. Tristan's shoulder is fully healed, as his arm, and he tests the use of both as he stands up.

"Strange," he comments. "It's like I wasn't hurt in the first place. Bit sore, though."

Keredic wipes off his sweat. "The soreness will last for at least a week if you let it be, or I could make you a salve and have it gone in an hour. Depends whether you stay with us."

Tristan snorts. "Don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Morgana glances at Keredic. He had made her heal a part of the muscle work and the entire skin after he ran out of magic halfway.

"It's either this, or I really get useless," Keredic had explained. Then he'd told her that there were herbs that he'd need to make a salve afterwards, and if he used more magic now he wouldn't be able to move. She had had little choice then.

But it hadn't been that bad. Morgana turns her hands palm up, then looks down. It hadn't been earth-shattering.

Isolde comes to kiss Tristan. Keredic and Morgana both look away until they break apart. They whisper what must certainly be sweet nothings to each other; neither prince nor princess can stomach the sound. Especially since earlier that day Morgana had fully kissed Arthur within sight of Keredic. Morgana can only be grateful that Keredic is gentlemanly to the point that he hasn't brought it up once.

"Morgana." He gets her attention. "If I may ask…"

"Of course," she says, wondering what he wishes to know.

"About you and Arthur." She spoke too soon. She should have just said no or something. "Is the relationship between you and the High King…"

Either Isolde noticed her discomfort, or the heavens were smiling upon her that day, because that exact moment is when Isolde comes to them, supporting Tristan.

"Thank you both," she says. "For everything you've done for him."

Tristan grunts, but they can see the grateful look in his eyes. Morgana and Keredic both nod, then Morgana excuses herself and walks back to the fire as fast as she can. She still keeps an eye on them, though. Arthur soon walks towards them, nodding to Keredic, who reciprocates coldly.

"I'm sorry you were…caught up in this," he says to the smugglers.

Tristan looks at him intensely, then shrugs. "Well, I may have lost my cargo, but at least I have my beloved Isolde."

"And I you." Isolde leans against his good shoulder.

"Then you're both richer than you know," Arthur says. Keredic raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Tristan considers him, then looks at Isolde before walking together back to the campfire.

"It's around time for dinner," Keredic says. "The sun's going to set soon."

"I'll go get us some game," Mithian volunteers quicky. Isolde stands up. "I'll go with you."

"You just don't want to cook," Keredic pouts. He sighs afterwards. "I'll do it."

His sister grimaces a little. "Is anyone here a competent cook?"

Arthur gestures at Merlin. "He's…decent."

"I promised Keredic I'd help him out. I'll be cooking as well," Morgana says, resigned. They wouldn't get food poisoning, but that is about all she can promise.

Arthur nods. "I'll gather firewood." He looks at Tristan. "You coming?"

Tristan glares, but nods. They walk off together.

Morgana watches the two walk off with worry in her eyes. "I'm a little concerned they might try to kill each other," she says, almost to herself. She is surprised when Mithian smiles at her.

"Arthur wouldn't let that happen."

Isolde grins as well. "Neither would my Tristan.

The two women get up and take out their weapons before walking off in the other direction.

Morgana is left with Keredic and Merlin. She looks at them both.

"So…are either of you good cooks?"

---

Arthur and Tristan walk a good distance in silence before finding an area with many fallen boughs. They start collecting without speaking to each other.

It is when Arthur has gathered an armful of dead wood when Tristan first speaks.

"Well, well. The High King getting his hands dirty picking up firewood. You're just like everyone else, aren't you? There's nothing special about you. All you're good for is swinging your sword and playing at being a knight."

Arthur looks at Tristan and finds that he's staring intensely at him again. It almost looks like Tristan's trying to convince himself rather than taunting Arthur.

"That may be right," Arthur concedes, not without effort. "But the Saxons are attacking my people, and I won't stand by and let it happen."

Tristan glares. "Well, your people have been suffering for ages before that."

Arthur picks up another piece of wood. "And I will do everything in my power to give them justice."

There is no more conversation after that, only a frigid silence. The only communication between the two is Arthur jerking his head in the direction they came as a question to whether they should head back, to which Tristan nods slightly.

They walk back, both lost in thought.

---

Arthur is amazed when Tristan pulls out a bouquet of flowers when they return. He hadn't even seen the smuggler stop to pick the flowers. But then, he had been preoccupied.

Isolde smiles widely as she accepts it. "What's this for?"

Tristan shrugs. "Just because."

Arthur watches them and wonders how they could be so happy.

---

The dinner is...edible. None of them comment on it more than that. Tristan and Isolde's men are eating and joking amongst themselves, while the seven share the meal in relative silence. Morgana nibbles at a piece of the hart that Mithian had shot. It's not an awkward meal, but everybody seems to be thinking about something.

After they have finished eating, Keredic stands up.

"I think I can function like a human being now," he says. "I'll go look for the herbs I need."

"You can't go alone," Mithian protests. "You can barely protect yourself."

"Thank you very much," Keredic says in a dry voice. "I do love it when you rub the fact that I'm not too good with martial arts in my face, sister."

"It's true, though."

Arthur suddenly speaks up. "I'll go with him."

Morgana raises an eyebrow. "You?"

"I feel like walking," Arthur shrugs. Keredic nods. "Thanks."

They disappear back into the woods.

August has reached its end, and the night chill creeps in. The remaining five gather around the fire.

Isolde sits side by side with Tristan, holding his hand. Merlin fiddles with his neckerchief. Morgana knows she should be putting up wards around just in case, but is too caught up in lethargy to do so. Mithian looks up.

"What are you planning to do now?" she asks Isolde and Tristan. "Now that you know the Saxons are regularly going through this area."

Isolde shares a long look with Tristan. "We'll just have to find another route."

"Smuggling is illegal," Mithian reminds. Tristan scoffs.

"That's not going to stop us." But his voice sounds a little less sure than before.

Merlin stretches. "One thing I know is that Arthur's going to be looking into those taxes right after the war's over. More work for me."

Tristan glances at the sorcerer. "Do all of you have so much trust in Arthur?"

Merlin shrugs. "He's the best person I know, even if he's really pratty sometimes."

Morgana snorts at that, and Isolde smiles in amusement. Mithian looks thoughtful.

"I don't think anyone else could have led the Ten Kingdoms as well as he did," she says. "Even if Bayard and Odin thinks they could have done better."

"He's different," Isolde says quietly to her partner. "Tristan, I think he's different."

Tristan seems to be pondering something. He's about to speak, when Keredic suddenly rushes into camp, herbs spilling out of his arms.

"Saxons," he pants. "Arthur's holding them back, but they're coming this way. He sent me ahead to tell you."

As soon as they reach for their weapons and get to their feet, Arthur appears. His sword is bloody.

"Seems to be the rest of the scouting group," he says between breaths. "But they're not all Saxon."

"Not all Saxon?" Mithian questions.

"Some… some look like regular outlaws." Arthur looks back and swears. "They're here."

They all ready their weapons. Mithian begins to shoot at the first arrivals. A handful fall, but many more keep coming. Arthur seems to be right- some look to be Saxons, but many more are dressed in regular Albion garb. The leader seems to be a large, powerful Moorish man with a shaven head. Tristan looks closer, then growls.

"I know him. He's a warlord. Ravaged my village, and ran into him a few times. Got a score to settle."

"Anything to know about him?" Arthur asks.

"Helios is strong," the smuggler bites out. "Never seen him beaten."

And then there's no more time for words because they're in a full-out brawl. Mithian backs away, dragging her brother behind her, so she can keep shooting. Morgana glances at her and sees that she's taking greater care to aim, which is a relief because she could very well shoot one of their own. Some of the men from the smuggling band throw knives at the approaching Saxons before throwing themselves into the fray. Tristan roars as he slices through many of the outlaws, in tandem with Isolde. Morgana grins humorlessly before lunging at a warrior- Saxon by dress, a battle-hardened woman- and running her through.

Merlin seems to know instinctively that they are a dangerous foe, because he skips the stunning and goes straight to blasting lightning. Morgana notices that he's just waiting for the right time to call up a whirlwind, as soon as everyone on their side is relatively out of the way. She bites her lips before blasting a man with magic.

"Don't bother," she yells to Merlin. "You'll destroy the whole forest if you bring up the whirlwind."

Merlin gives her a curt nod before resorting to breaking necks. Morgana turns back to the fighting.

The leader- Helios, Tristan had called him- is formidable. He slaughters three of Isolde's band before Arthur gets to him. Morgana slices a throat neatly, then internally debates trying to blast Helios with lightning.

Merlin gets there first, sending a white-hot thread of crackling energy at Helios. But it there is no burnt smell. The lightning is simply disappeared.

Helios has wards against magical attack, Morgana realizes. They'll only be able to kill him with the sword. Arthur strikes at him first, a stab almost too fast for the eye to see. Helios parries, then the two exchange fierce blows one after the other. Morgana keeps one eye on them as she turns back to the melee.

When she looks again at the two locked in battle, she can see that they are evenly matched; that is a surprise in and of itself. To have someone matching in swordsmanship. And then as she looks, Arthur trips, falling to the floor. Helios raises his sword for the final blow.

Before Morgana can throw magic or do anything, a sword sprouts out of Helios's chest from behind. Morgana can see Arthur's eyes widen with surprise. Blood sprays as Isolde pulls out her blade. Helios seems to falter.

Isolde steps back with a look of relief on her face. Most of the Saxons and the outlaws are already dead, and Helios is grievously wounded. Helios slowly turns to face Isolde.

He looks defeated and near-dead, but Morgana suddenly notices the tensing of his arm, the savage look in his eyes. If he's going to die, he's going to take somebody with him. Isolde doesn't notice, turning away as if she thinks he is already dead.

Helios raises his blade, and as Morgana watches it seems like time has slowed down. She raises a hand and yells out a spell.

Helios is thrown high into a tree. Isolde whirls back, just in time to see the burly warlord fly away. She looks at Morgana.

"Thanks."

Morgana shakes her head. "You saved Arthur."

The woman looks at her for a long moment before smiling. "Even, then."

Arthur has gotten to his feet in that time. He walks to them and looks around.

"I think the battle's near over."

Merlin and Mithian efficiently dispose of the handful still alive. Morgana leans against a tree. "Three Saxon encounters in one day. We're doing something right."

Arthur grunts. "At least we know this is really the Saxon supply trail now. Merlin?"

The sorcerer nods. "The magicians will be able to find where the actual supply is and track them down. Just give us some time."

The sun has already set. Morgana glances up at the darkened sky.

"Should we wait until morning to return?"

Arthur shakes his head. "This isn't too far from the Plains of Peredor. We return now."

Mithian, Keredic, and Merlin go to the horses. Morgana watches as Arthur nods to Tristan and Isolde.

"This is where we say goodbye."

The two smugglers look to each other. It seems like they've made a decision. Tristan hesitates before speaking.

"Arthur, all my life I've shied away from other people's wars, and despised the power and wealth that kings buy with the lives of men, but you've shown yourself to be different."

"You've shown us that you fight for what is right and fair," Isolde says, slipping her hand in Tristan's. "We would like to fight at your side."

Morgana's eyes widen and flick to Arthur. He seems moved.

"We've also a score to settle," Tristan says with a grin. "Those outlaws have an entire band. If they've stuck to the Saxons…"

Isolde finishes the sentence. "We'll get our revenge."

A small smile grows on Arthur's face. "I'd be honored to have you at my side."

Tristan and Isolde nod. Morgana steps closer.

"We're sorely in need of marksmen," she tells them. "Any help would be appreciated, but I noticed that your men seemed to be adept at throwing knives."

Isolde nods. "The handful of men here are ours, but we can muster more."

"Marksmen?" Tristan asks, then thinks for a little. "Fifty men and women, experts at either archery or knife throwing. I can get them in five days."

"Fifty?" Morgana is surprised. That Tristan could gather so many skilled warriors in such little time is startling.

"You get connections in our line of work," Isolde shrugs. She suddenly looks shrewd. "We'll want amnesty, though."

Morgana looks at Arthur. He nods without hesitating.

"Done." He smiles. "We fight as equals."

"You done talking?" Merlin calls from where they've prepared the horses. "I'd like to get there before tomorrow, thank you."

Isolde and Tristan smile. "We will come to you in five days." They walk off to talk to their band of former smugglers.

Arthur grins, then offers his hand to Morgana. "Shall we?"

She places her hand gently on his offered palm. "Of course, my lord."

---

It is a se'enight later when they all receive the news.

"Master Merlin and the magicians have located the supply train on the trail, my lady!"

Morgana's hand tightens around the quill she's been holding. "It is to begin?"

"We leave at dawn."

---

*6 leagues is around 18 miles, or 30 kilometers.

**I've used the word pirates 11 times in this part alone. Now there's something I never thought I'd do. Maybe I should just turn this story into one about the adventures of Pirate Merlin and his crew.

A/N: Aaaaand we still don't get the main battle. I'm so sorry about 1) dragging out writing this chapter, and 2) dragging out the chapter itself. Please tell me if you found any part boring, or if you noticed grammar mistakes or anything like that.

Thank you as always to all reviewers! You're the ones who keep me coming back to the story. I wanted to answer some queries, so here they are:

To Your Favorite Oxymoron: The Latin titles were a whim of mine. I'm glad you liked them. In order, they are The Dice Is Cast, Faithful and Moral, The Storm Gathers, The Treachery of Leaders, The War Begins, New Light, and Unexpected Company. Yes, they sound trite. I'm sorry :)

To Arya Tindomiel, whose reviews are AMAZING and make me squeal every time I see them and is just overall wonderful: Mithian is unfortunately out of the running for the love triangle. But trust me when I say, it's not going to stay a love triangle for long.

And to Kreuse, who reminded me that this story was waiting for me: It's here. :)

Thank you again to everyone else who reviewed, both anon and signed!