They all lost count of exactly how long Merlin was gone, even the young sorcerer himself lost track of the months as they bled into a year, though perhaps not quite into two. No one could be blamed for this of course; Merlin had only resided in Camelot a week, and though it had been an eventful one with a number of lingering side-effects, it was one short moment in the long lives of men.

And after all, in a magic-less Camelot, life wasn't particularly forgiving.

Soon after Merlin left, there was some trouble with a witch—my apologies, sorceress— named Nimueh, who poisoned the water supply in hopes of destroying Uther and his beloved Camelot. Unaware of the boy Merlin and his influence on the lives of Camelot's finest, Nimueh was of course ill-prepared to deal with Uther's righteous son and magic-curious ward, aided by an intelligent and daring serving girl and an old man with a few magic tricks still tucked up his sleeve.

It should be noted, of course, that about six months after Merlin escaped, word of his continued existence still made its way back to Camelot through a man that quite quickly became a mutual friend. Lancelot was a strong and brave fellow, if not of noble birth, and with ease had saved Arthur's backside from being torn apart by a particularly nasty thing called "the Questing Beast." Though it seemed that saving the prince's life was of little value to the king. Without argument, just a promise to look after "the clumsy country-boy they both knew," Lancelot accepted Uther's refusal to admit him to the Knights—something that Arthur again questioned, and Uther again scolded him for.

But after Lancelot's exile, the months passed quite slowly, devoid of drama or word of a boy who was best friends with trouble. But, in the nagging way only he could, Merlin persisted in the minds of them all.

Gwen often stopped in to Gaius's tower to help the old man with the marigold grinding and rare leaf gathering. He never asked her for her help, but he was beyond grateful for it. He truly did need an apprentice, though if he had no interest in finding one before Merlin had stumbled into Camelot, then the old physician certainly didn't want one now.

And when Gaius made himself dinner, he always made enough for two, offering the other portion to his daily guest Morgana. At one point the young woman stopped asking for a remedy for her nightmares, preferring instead to hear bits of Gaius's wisdom over a bowl of soup. In the hours in which Uther thought she was sewing or buying dresses or doing something ordinarily (and quite honestly a bit laughably) feminine, Morgana was actually most likely to be found in Merlin's old bedroom, where Gaius had hinted that he kept a few good books hidden under the floorboards. She never let him see her reading one of the old spellbooks, and perhaps under other circumstances Gaius would have kept them far from her grasp, but he too had seen the look she gave the spellbook as she'd handed it to him that night long ago. Morgana would never be able to deny the allure of magic, Gaius realized. With any luck, the events with Merlin both taught her to be cautious and to remember she was not alone.

Arthur, on the other hand, had never felt more alone in his life. He had of course gotten a new manservant, a phenomenally dull but efficient young man named Gregory who showed up for work on time and was not the least bit magical. He never called Arthur a prat, but he also never did any life-saving, whether it be assisting in getting rid of a possessed locket (that Arthur had needed Gwen's help with) or asking the simple question, "Are you alright?"

To be honest, Arthur had lived most of his life feeling alone, he just hadn't been aware of it. And so while he was perfectly capable of feigning he was fine, he had, more than ever, become determined to be his own person, to be a better man than his father. To create a Camelot that was truly fair.

Perhaps largely, but he would never admit this, so that his friend could come home.

In the English language, there is an idiom: "to throw down the gauntlet." It is used in times of challenge, when an individual feels particularly passionate but their passion is being denied, and they need their two legs to stand, but they are being forced to sit, restrained by the sheer weight of being human. In these moments, all one needs to do is slide the glove from one's hand and throw it to the earth.

And that is exactly what she did.

When she fought her way into Camelot's throne room, the last thing anyone expected was a woman, and though Morgause was a brave, passionate, intelligent, and independent woman, it took all of these qualities and an intractable desire for acceptance to give her the courage to stand in that throne room and throw down her gauntlet.

She almost didn't do it. Just that morning she had been atop her horse, at the edge of Camelot's borders. He'd followed her this far, but she knew he wouldn't take another step. He wasn't ready for that yet. She wasn't even sure she was ready for it, and that's what made her hesitate.

"You just need to be patient," he said, as he always said, though he never explained to Morgause why he said that.

"For how long? And even if I felt I could wait, how could I abandon my sister? I need to, in the very least, save my sister from him," she replied.

"I promise you," Merlin protested, "Morgana is fine. Uther cares greatly for her."

"It matters little whether he cares for her or not; as long as he guards her, she won't be able to be free."

"There are ways to live in Camelot with magic—" at this Morgause gave him a look that seemed to suggest he was being naïve, and perhaps he was, Merlin had mused many times before that conversation—but he continued, "And besides, last I saw her, it was only the nightmares that troubled her."

"The nightmares are only the beginning. All Seers are drawn to sorcery, and Morgana, despite the threats that loom over her, will want to learn it. And…" Morgause's voice trailed off, but Merlin had heard this argument many times before.

"The prince isn't like his father—"

"Even if he isn't, can the two really be so different? Would Uther have allowed his son to accept magic?"

"Arthur isn't his father—"

"But that's not enough!" Morgause yelled, and Merlin sighed. "Our kind, we have been hunted for over twenty years, how can that not anger you?"

"I never said it didn't! But this isn't something you can force to happen."

"I can't—more will die, Merlin. And if Morgana…" Morgause's voice couldn't bear to give sound to her thoughts, so she continued: "I need to do this. All I'm going to do is tell the prince the truth, that he owes magic his life. Perhaps then he'll learn what must be done. If you weren't a coward," Morgause glared pointedly at Merlin, who looked at her forlornly, "you'd help."

But as Merlin muttered, "I'm trying," Morgause kicked the horse's flank and took off into Camelot's forest.

And that is how she came to stand in the throne room.

The fact that her plan was working so far renewed her confidence and reassured her that she was doing the right thing.

She knew she could defeat the prince; that's not the part that set her nerves on fire. It was what the boy had said, what he'd been saying since she ran into him just outside Camelot's borders over a year ago. He'd always told her to be patient.

But she had been. Her whole life, she had been patient. While Uther's witch hunts killed the people she had come to consider her family and many of her friends lived terrified, wandering the lands endlessly without a home, she had been patient.

And it wasn't as though she had intentions to kill Arthur. Originally, she thought she might have to, but if what Merlin had been telling her was true, then maybe the prince just needed proof that Camelot was nothing without magic and sorcery.

She had to do something. Merlin just didn't understand that. He hadn't seen the things she'd seen, felt the things she'd felt, so he just couldn't understand that something had to be done. Morgause didn't have the heart to be patient anymore.

"I'll spare your life if you'll accept another challenge," she told the prince, sword tip to his throat.

"What?" he said calmly, and she rather admired the sense of control he managed to maintain.

"After I leave Camelot, on the night of the full moon, come find me, and listen to what I have to say."

Arthur stared at her, no emotion showing on his face. Then, having made his decision, he replied, "Yes, alright. I will come find you."

With a smile, Morgause withdrew her sword, sheathing it, and offered the prince a hand. The honorable sport Arthur was, he took it.

And Morgause left Camelot the following afternoon successful on all accounts. The prince would come find her and she would show him the truth. With the bracelet, her sister's nights would be at peace until the two could meet again, perhaps next time as allies and siblings.

She travelled to the Isle where she found Merlin making himself dinner. She told him of her success, and to her dismay, he did not congratulate her, just merely nodded.

"He'll be here the full moon," she told Merlin, who looked at her, mildly surprised.

"That's tomorrow."

"Yes, well, it's when my magic's the strongest, you know." Merlin didn't answer. He just picked at the fish he had grilled. "Are you going to be here?" Morgause asked after a moment. Now that her plan was in motion, a plan that Merlin had made perfectly clear he didn't agree with, their relationship seemed rather unclear.

Merlin shook his head. "No," he answered. "I'm leaving tonight."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know," Merlin said with a shrug. He knew where he wanted to go, but he couldn't. Not yet.

"What will you do?"

At this question, Merlin tensed. "I don't know," he replied again. He did know, but he couldn't tell her.

"You can't stop him," Morgause said, as if reading Merlin's mind. "If Arthur doesn't come tomorrow night, whether you're the cause of it or not, I'll… I'll… my hand will be forced." Though forced to do what, Morgause didn't know herself.

Though he had come to care for Morgause over the past year and a half, Merlin hadn't once forgotten how powerful she was. Empty a threat or not, Merlin would be wary when he risked it.

There was just enough trust between them to allow Morgause to let Merlin leave in peace that night. A trust based on the fact that both of them wanted the same thing; both of them wanted to live without being afraid.

Merlin felt heavy as he left the Isle that evening. As he stepped on to the boat, the gloves he'd bought in the market of a border town the previous winter fell from his back pocket, one landing on the shore and the other atop Avalon's waters.

He would finally have to do something, he supposed.

First and foremost, thanks so much for reading this far. More to come.

For all the people leaving reviews - seriously thanks so much for taking the additional time to do so. I know it's kind of a hassle sometimes, but all your comments make me unbelievably happy, and (this is to everyone) never hesitate to leave a review of any kind or pm me about anything.
Thanks also, of course, to everyone who has favorited and followed this story.

Update: I added an additional part to this chapter, though it's only been a couple hours since I posted.

Best wishes, and enjoy your weekends.