Let us see what is up in Camelot.

Waazz-aaaaap! ;)


~19~ Of Enlightenment

Camelot was in turmoil. The news of the missing king spread like wildfire throughout the city, and no one slept as search parties were formed by specialists and volunteers.

Gwen wasn't part of the searches. She was going for a more back-door approach. She ordered each imprisoned Silverblood out for interrogation, and, one by one, she demanded of them the location of her husband. Without fail, they all insisted that they hadn't the slightest idea, though a few looked to be hiding something.

The third person who revealed the nagging suspicion roiling in their eyes was a red-haired woman who, on four different occasions, asked whether Sir Gwaine was all right. She had been told every time that he was in a stable condition, but it was as though her anxiety kept making her forget.

"I know you suspect something," Gwenevere snapped rudely, as the woman, called Bianca, again claimed that the whereabouts of Arthur were unknown to her. The queen had been wearing her down now for little over an hour, and she was growing increasingly impatient with her lack of cooperation. "You are a terrible liar. Now stop taking me as a fool and tell me where my husband is!"

"I swear, I have no idea!" Bianca sobbed. She, along with the other Silverbloods, had not been tortured for information, but she, too, was growing weary of the interrogation.

Gwen took a deep, cleansing breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. It was time to change tactics. Striding to the door, she whispered something to the guard outside and then waited patiently in the chair before Bianca, who slumped, also sitting, in the seat in the middle of the room. Gwen hated interrogation, as she had been a victim to it herself, but it was the only way to find and save Arthur, not to mention her missing brother, Elyan.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Gwen stood to welcome Gwaine into the room. The knight was smiling brilliantly, and he gave an extravagant bow to her, though his face was pained when he straightened.

"My lady," he grunted.

"Sir Gwaine, please, sit here." Gwen manoeuvred the knight into her chair despite his protests, so he sat just before Bianca. "This young lady as been asking about your welfare."

Now that he was before her, the 'young lady' was speechless, and was blushing like a school girl. "I...I—I hope you are well, Gwaine Sir...Sir Gwaine...sir." She flushed all the harder as the knight smiled.

"I'm doing well, sweet pea, though if Gaius dumps anymore painkillers down my throat I may just drown." Now Gwaine looked inquisitively at Gwen, wondering why he was supposed to be there.

The queen stepped forward. "Sir Gwaine, I was just asking Bianca here where the Silverbloods who had avoided arrest may have taken King Arthur."

"Ah. Where did they take him?" Gwaine asked the red-haired woman, but she simply dropped her chin to her chest and refused to make eye contact.

"She won't answer me, but I was hoping, since you saved her life, you would be able to coax some answers from her, for the good of us all."

Gwaine became solemn. "I'll see what I can do."


After Gwen left, Gwaine stood with a pained grunt and dragged his chair closer to Bianca, who stiffened at his approach.

"Hey, Bianca. Are you okay? Have we been treating you fairly enough?"

She said nothing. The knight leaned forward in the chair, as to see her face better.

"Are you hungry? I'm hungry." He straightened as though surprising himself. "So hungry, I could probably eat all the horses in the stables, and then a chicken." As though enunciating his claim, his stomach growled like a bear, and the knight saw Bianca smile briefly in amusement.

Break the ice, thought he, refraining the urge to reach over and push a lock of fiery red hair from her face. He sighed. "Listen, Bianca. Arthur, he's a really good man, you know. Best friend I ever had. I once saved his life, if you could imagine it, and in return, he knighted me. His father, Uther, would have had a pickle if he had been in his right mind, yessir!" Gwaine smiled at the thought, but then grew grim once more. "But now Arthur is in danger, and there's nothing I can do because we don't know where he is...You must know something, Bianca. Anything would be of use. A name, a region, a bleeding direction – anything that could help us in our search would be greatly appreciated...Bianca, if you only knew King Arthur, you would not be so hesitant."

The Silverblood remained still, but Gwaine could feel a barrier breaking down within her. Finally, she said, "I want to know him. I've seen how he treats his knights and that servant: as though you were all equal. He's like no king I've ever seen. He's...different."

"He's also going to be the best king Albion has ever known," Gwaine said. "I can tell, simply by the way he carries himself. His will is strong and his heart stronger, but right now he needs our help. And you can help him, Bianca."

There was a pause of nearly a minute, but Gwaine was content to wait until the puppy came to him. Then, Bianca heaved a breath.

"There are others, those you have already fought, called the Blackhands. They are like us, but then, not like us. Captain Baldwin somehow sent word to them, and by now, a Silverblood will have already captured Arthur..."

Ͻ Ϫ Ͻ

Elyan was near collapse by the time the battlements of Camelot's towers came into view. The sight, so welcome in dawn's embrace, encouraged the knight back into a brisk jog – no amount of encouragement could force him back into a run.

There were flurries of activity within the city as the knight hastened through the gates. He could only suppose that they were preparing search parties, and he ignored them as he fought his way to the citadel, where his sister, Gwenevere, was no doubt in control.

He was hailed, though in surprise, by others as he reached the Main Hall. Sir Percival met his stride.

"Elyan! Where the hell have you been? Where's Arthur?"

"Not now," the knight gasped. "Where's my sister? I don't wish to tell the story more than once; there's no time."

"She's questioning the Silverbloods. This way."

Percival led him to where Gwen was waiting outside the interrogation room, and the queen gasped before rushing to embrace her brother.

"Oh, Elyan, I've been so worried! What happened? The reports say you just disappeared!"

"I will explain. Is there a Silverblood in there?" Without waiting for an answer, Elyan pushed the door open and entered, to stop as he saw Gwaine and a red-haired woman looked to him in surprise. "Gwaine! You're up!"

"Hello, Elyan. It's nice to see you, too. Bianca, this is Elyan. Elyan, Bianca."

Shy, the Silverblood nodded lightly yet politely, but the knight was glaring.

"You. You and your kind have brought nothing but trouble here."

"Elyan—"

"Your treachery and betrayal are unforgivable! Our king forged a deal yet your leader sought to destroy it for his own sick games!"

"Elyan—"

"I await the day I see you all hang and burn! I—"

"Elyan! Listen to yourself!" Gwaine roared, standing up and shoving the other knight back several paces. Then he gasped and staggered, falling back into the chair, face contorted in pain.

Elyan looked horrified with himself. "Saints alive! I'm so sorry, I've no idea what came over me. I was just...so angry..." Gwen put an arm around his shoulders as Bianca touched Gwaine's.

The ruffian knight glared up at Gwen's brother. "Explain yourself."

"I will after she does."

Bianca glanced furtively at Elyan, sheepish and ashamed. She gave a shuddering breath. "As I was saying to Sir Gwaine, Captain Baldwin had sent word to those who were not captured, in hopes that they had met up with our separated kin, the Blackhands. I do not know what word he sent, exactly, for the knowledge was supposed to be just between Baldwin and his second lieutenant, Tiberius, but I overheard them talking."

"How did he send word?" asked Gwen, as calm as she could.

"There was a Silverblood put into employment here, a youth called Frederico, in the kitchens. In a way, he was like a spy. He was supposed to leave Camelot and search for the Blackhands if anything like this should happen."

"So Baldwin, or, more accurately, Frederico, was asking the loose Silverbloods and Blackhands for aid?"

"I suppose so. I'm not sure how they expected to get us out, other than using Arthur as a hostage, I guess." Bianca looked to Elyan. "I think you should fill in here. You'll know what actually happened to his majesty."

Swallowing his distaste for the Silverblood, Elyan obliged, recounting what he could remember after blacking out during the search for Merlin.

"I don't know how it happened, but the door of the cage suddenly broke – nearly flying off its hinges! – and I managed to escape. I would have stayed, but what could I do? I was being pursued and...Arthur had turned..." The knight felt so ashamed of himself, and he couldn't look anyone in the eye.

He could feel the horror and disgust radiating from the others like heat with the knowledge he gave them, towards him or not he wasn't sure. They were speechless, even the Silverblood, which baffled him. Wasn't pitting werewolf against werewolf a pastime for her kind? The Blackhands made it seem so.

"I don't know what became of him. I just knew I had to get help."

"Rowan?" Bianca asked. "Did you say Rowan was the name of the other werewolf?"

"Yes," Elyan replied flatly, then blinked when he saw her blanch and tears spring in her eyes. "Do you know the name?"

She nodded, hands clenching until her knuckles were white. "That...what happened...it wasn't...it isn't..." Tears fell freely from her cheeks, and her shoulders trembled. "Those traitors!" she suddenly shrieked, startling everyone.

Elyan stared at her, confused. "Isn't...isn't that what Baldwin planned? He tried having Arthur killed before."

"No! I mean, yes, but...that's not what we're about!" Bianca screamed, standing and pacing in furious circles. She let loose a long and vulgar stream of foul curses that made even Gwaine blush. "The Silverbloods would never do such a thing! Not for anyone, especially Rowan! When Baldwin finds out..."

Though everyone was appalled by the gory vows and rude cursing she vented, they let Bianca rant until she ran out of breath. When she finally stood still, heaving in gusts of air and steaming like a kettle, Gwaine straightened slowly and led her back to the chair.

"So what do we do?" asked Percival, silent through the whole exchange until then. "Go find them? They may hold Arthur hostage, if he's still alive."

"What choice do we have? Elyan, do you think you could find their camp again?" Gwaine turned to the other knight, but he was shaking his head.

"No. It was too dark. I can lead you to the right road, because that's how I returned in the first place, but the abandoned outpost was deep in the trees."

"Would Baldwin know?"

This time the question was aimed at Bianca, who shook her head as well. "I don't think so. Not if the Blackhands have betrayed us."

"We have to try," said Elyan, squaring his shoulders. "I left Arthur behind to summon aid, and I mean to get it."

Ͻ Ϫ Ͻ

In the thrill of the flight, Merlin had entirely forgotten about his twisted ankle. When Kilgharrah finally put him and the Druid, who called himself Bowen, down on the ground, the warlock made to stand, only to gasp and immediately fall over, muffling a curse.

"Bloody badgers!" he grumbled, lifting his pant leg to see the swollen joint, injured from the animal burrow.

"Emrys, if I may?" Bowen knelt and passed his hand over Merlin's ankle, murmuring a few gentle words of Healing as he did so. The servant sighed with relief as the purple hue faded and the swelling fell, and the pain was banished for good.

"Thank you..."

Bowen had already stood and turned away. "Welcome to Mistwood, Emrys. Welcome to my home."

The warlock stood, tentatively at first but then with confidence as his ankle held him, and looked down the small hill to the settlement scattered amongst the pines. In the dawn light, he could see coloured tents and smouldering cook fires. Several people, young and old, were emerging from their tents, but were not alarmed to see a great dragon standing so near to their homes. In fact, they seemed mildly interested. Merlin noticed that even the children were holding themselves in dignified solemnity, but could also tell that, being children, they were eager to see Kilgharrah up close.

"Will they be all right with my coming here?" asked Merlin of Bowen as the Druid stepped down the hill. "I'm still, you know..."

"You are welcome, as anyone is welcome, to share our bread and rest in our beds so long as you don't mean anyone or anything harm. Come, please, meet my family."

At first the Druids seemed coyly wary of Merlin, and only watched from several paces away as the warlock was introduced to Bowen's lady (the servant was surprised that no one married each other), named Marideth, and his two children. Then as Marideth smiled and embraced Merlin in a warm, motherly hug, the ice melted and the Druids became boisterous, especially the kids. It was as though the affects of waking at so early a time were inconsequential, and many began preparing food for the day, while others came to meet Merlin themselves.

After countless introductions, Bowen managed to save the warlock and fish him out of the swollen crowd of inquisitive Druids, leading him back closer to the edge of the grove and to the clearing. There, a tent, a bit distanced from the rest, lay silent, a fire with peculiar emerald flames guarding the entrance. Kilgharrah, now able to join them because they were so close to the clearing, settled down just by the back of the tent. As a few minutes passed and nothing happened, the dragon amused himself by blowing smoke rings, which the Druid children who had followed him gasped and giggled at.

Merlin and Bowen stood prone five paces from the green fire, unable to see into the void of the tent. After several more minutes passed and there was no movement from either Bowen or the canvas, the warlock opened his mouth to ask a question, only for the Druid to raise his hand, not rudely, but to ensure silence.

Somewhere in the distance, a musician began to tap on a hand drum, creating an enticing rhythm that filled the dawn, to quickly be joined by a flirtatious flute of some kind. Merlin bobbed his head lightly to the song, losing himself in his thoughts and simply enjoying himself.

The sun had risen high to warm the air by the time a woman finally emerged from the tent. Her hood was down, revealing black dreadlocks that framed an olive-skinned, stern face. Her eyes were black and had the depth of a hundred years. She was pretty, considering the forest life she led, but that wasn't why Merlin was so captivated by her.

"You're the one I saw in my dreams!" he blurted, and she smiled, exiling the grim seriousness her features once portrayed.

"Indeed I am, Emrys. Welcome to Mistwood. I've been waiting for you for a long time."


You probably don't remember the strange dreams Merlin had, right? There was the oddly familiar glade that he kept running from and all that. It's been a long time since they've been mentioned...

And no, Mistwood doesn't exist in the series. I just made it up.

"Your quality will be known among your enemies, before ever you meet them, my friend." ~ Imad (Kingdom of Heaven.)