Hello again all! Well yet again it's been another crazy few weeks so once more I must apologise for the delay in this next chapter- my poor laptop hasn't seen the light of day for about a fortnight! Instead, it's been sitting in it's case in the corner of the Living Room all underused and undervalued so here's hoping (fingers crossed) that this next chapter is worth the wait- I haven't forgotten about you...promise! Anyway, without further ado onto the next chapter...

Chapter Eleven

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

Arthur's loud hammering was enough to wake the dead...but the question remained, was it enough to rouse the Queen from her rest? Morgana never did like getting out of bed, he decided.

Surprise became evident on his boyish features when the door opened to reveal not the Lady of Camelot but Aelwyd, her pretty young maidservant. His patience, however, was nearing its end after spending the previous two days desperately trying to track down his half-sister with no avail and apparently no innocent bystander was to be spared his wrath.

"I need to speak to Morgana." His already abrupt tone was made yet more terse at the hand-maiden's blank look; "your Mistress, where is she?"

The girl looked about her, startled. She had only ever been told kind things about the great Prince Arthur, even from Morgana, but the furious man who stood before her now bore no resemblance to the noble knight she had heard so much of; "She...the mistress is not able to see visitors, My Lord. She is terrible unwell."

"I don't believe that." he answered quietly. He pushed the heavy oak door to the side with ease, sweeping little Aelwyd off along with it. The high-colour of his cheeks turned ashen grey while his eyes narrowed and his lips tightened into a thin line as indignation turned to outright anger. His voice, when he spoke again, taking the girl's shoulders in a firm grip, was calmer though brittle and as chill as ice; "Alright, tell me where she is and do not lie to me."

The maid was still reeling after being knocked to the side, albeit inadvertently, by the former Prince. "My Lord, I don't know anything. My Lady only told me not to allow anyone into her chambers. She has left the city but I have no idea where she has gone. Please believe me, I meant no disrespect." her fingers trembled as she pleaded. The Prince's demeanour softened as he realised the girl really was telling the truth. After all, Morgana's sudden flights had nothing to do with this maid- she was notorious for it!

"I am sorry...A...um...?"

"Aelwyd...My Lord. My name is Aelwyd." The girl blushed as she interjected, suddenly finding great interest in the vibrant crimson rug under her feet. Arthur, himself, was turning an interested shade of humility.

"Please forgive my behaviour Aelwyd, I...it was not my intention to frighten you. When she gets back..." he glanced around in frustration, "when she gets back you tell her I was looking for her. I must speak with your Mistress urgently, the future of Camelot may depend on it."

Some miles away Morgana was as content as she could ever remember being; observing life continuing around her at a somewhat gentler pace. The last few weeks had been utterly frantic, it was only when she had stopped dashing around like a mad woman that she realised how drained she really was- little wonder she had begun to feel so constrained by her own palace. Now she sat on the lake's edge, listening to the gentle come-and-go lapping of the water against the pebbled shore. Happy just to be breathing in the clean forest air as she watched the brilliant afternoon sun dancing on the placid rippling waves and hearing somewhere in the background the faint echo of the priestesses singing as they worked. She truly had come to love this place. She had done ever since her sister had first brought her here during her tutelage but now it was more than a simple affection. It was the easy serenity of someone who had returned home after a long and perilous journey. Thinking of her sister she looked up, her eyes wandering, as they tended to do, over to the figure tending her own private garden.

Rather than her trusted friend Alastrine she had been sent one of the priestesses-in-training to attend her during her stay; an efficient and unassuming kind of character. Morgana supposed that the girl was typical of the young maidens who had come here to train in the Druidic arts but as she, herself, had never undergone such an apprenticeship she had little to compare to. She had trained under her own sister, been provided the love and support of family while making the difficult transition from ordinary noblewoman to High-Priestess. These girls were cut off from their families at a young age, learning to rely on themselves with only the bonds formed among their fellow novices for comfort. In one of their brief conversations she had asked the girl's name. As it turned out she was of one of the old tribes in the West...Delyth, her name was. The dark-haired sorceress had thought it sweet and entirely apt for she was very pretty in her own quiet way. It was pleasant, actually, after the brashness of Aelwyd to have a more cheery soul around her dwelling. She had smiled to herself that morning to hear Delyth happily humming as she hovered over the pot that had been set above the fire, filled to brim with a hearty broth to keep your strength up, Isilda had said. The young woman had been so embarrassed that Morgana had taken pity on her and told her that she may sing any tune as she desired, it pleased her Lady so much to hear.

She sighed a wistful smile when she heard familiar footsteps approaching behind her, the tread now as natural to her ear as her own. The hand on her shoulder was warm and the delicate yet unmistakeable aroma of herbs a comfort. Isilda's ageing bones creaked loudly as she sat down beside the young dark-haired woman, making the pair of them grimace and laugh simultaneously.

"Oh my dear, I remember when you first came to us, such a girl!" the old woman gave a chesty chuckle, "you were so wide-eyed and clinging to Morgause for fear she would run off and leave you somewhere- lest you be left with us old hags!"

Morgana rolled her eyes at the other woman's grinning face. "That's not true, I was nervous and...excited."

Isilda caught the young woman's eye and suddenly her beaming smile took on an air of melancholy. Morgana had a feeling she knew what was about to come next. "My dear, you must go back. You cannot stay here and hide forever."

Morgana opened her mouth to protest but she was quickly forestalled by the other's hand; "the world needs you, Camelot needs you and whether you wish to admit it or not Arthur needs you. A threat is coming, greater than either of you have ever faced before and now is the time to unite, not to leave to your separate failures."

"I feel so alone." Morgana felt her voice empty and devoid of hope. Isilda resisted the urge to smile- she had never known the dark-haired woman to be so quiet!

"You will have the help when you need it most and you know this, my child." No one else would dare refer the Lady of Avalon and Queen of Camelot as a child but Isilda held a special place in Morgana's life; she was teacher, counsellor, advisor and a sort of surrogate grandmother. Morgause had respected her and loved her well. Soon enough after her life as the Lady had begun Morgana, too, had learned to trust the infinite wisdom reflected in those greying eyes. Eyes that could no-longer see the world around her so clearly but saw everything beyond it. In response to such a statement Morgana could only nod.

Arthur bolted down the corridor after his sister, his hard-heeled boots clattering with each scuff of the cold stone floor of Camelot's Palace building. "Morgana, you need to listen to me!" his voice carried after her.

Abruptly the Queen turned and the former prince came screeching to a halt before her; "no Arthur, I don't. There is nothing you can possibly have to say to me that I do not already know."

"Oh yes there is" he persisted with a dogged determination, Morgana found it almost admirable...almost. "Morgana, Cadeyrn is a Saxon sympathiser...I spoke to Merlin...he recognised hi..."

"Him, yes, his mother was a woman of the tribes who married Saxon mercenary. His mother was killed during the purge and his father swore vengeance against the Pendragon. When his father died Cadeyrn took up the mantle and has spent the last ten years concocting one ridiculously ludicrous plan until now. He has returned to Saxon shores to gather an invasion force and plans to take Camelot himself"

"How could you...?"

"Have you forgotten I am the Lady of Avalon?"

Arthur's cheeks adopted a decidedly reddish tinge. "The point is, Morgana, that he is not just coming after Camelot. The Saxons plan to conquer Albion for themselves- he has been gathering followers for himself over here- people with axes to grind...or just those with a service to offer a high bidder." He leaned forward and hushed his voice; "he will have men on the inside, you need to watch your back."

Morgana lunged into Arthur's own space in response; "yes, and you need to watch yours. I will despatch a rider when I have assessed the situation. Until then I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear from you and I don't want you in my court- is that understood?" Her words were made yet more potent from the flash of dangerous and powerful magic that glimpsed through her eyes.

But Arthur would not cower and he would not be outdone. He took a great step and back and made a deep, comical bow; "as you wish...My Lady."

Uh huh, you guessed it,

To be continued...