Merlin kept his eyes on the plate of food in front of him on the laden banquet table. As tempting as the smells of roasted meat and freshly baked bread were, he had eaten little. Dozens of conversations from the long tables down every side of the room blended with the clinking of dishes into a cloud of noise punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

Merlin was comfortable enough at meetings of the Round Table, despite Aldric's glares, but at feasts like this one it felt odd to be sitting at table – the king's table, no less – rather than serving. Merlin was conscious of every hostile scowl sent his way: disdainful frowns from the nobles of the court who disagreed with the king's tolerance for the company of common-born people, envious glances from some of Merlin's former fellow servants, and fearful looks from a variety of people at the powerful sorcerer whose dark arts could supposedly smite armies.

He glanced to his left to confirm Arthur did not share his lack of appetite. The king's plate had been filled yet again and Merlin did not doubt his friend would devour everything on it.

Gwen caught Merlin's eye and gave him a friendly smile which he returned gratefully. The queen knew exactly how it felt to be plucked out of a comfortable life as one of a multitude of servants in the citadel, however hard the daily chores, and dropped into a spotlight dressed up in fancy clothes. Although Merlin had to admit his current clothing was a good deal more comfortable than the peasant garb Arthur refused to allow him to wear to banquets. Over the years Merlin privately thought Arthur's expensive clothes were made out of flimsy cloth not useful enough to justify the cost, but the material did feel nice.

From beside Gwen, Mithian smiled warmly at him, completely at ease in front of the assembly of nobles and knights. Her dark hair was arranged in a cascade of loose curls and the silk of her green dress framed her breasts. The knot in his stomach eased. Looking at Mithian gave him courage to face a room full of frosty stares.

As Merlin returned his gaze to his own plate, Olwyne caught his glance. The man gave him a friendly nod at odds with the half fearful/half suspicious looks most of the nobles sent his way. Merlin felt the tension inside ease further at the overture. In the past several months the noble had grown considerably more at ease in Merlin's presence and proved himself willing to set aside assumptions he had been raised with about both peasants and sorcerers.

King Arthur stood up to offer a toast. When Merlin reached for his cup, he noticed it was full to the brim even though it had been half empty the last time he set it down. Leaning forward, he looked sideways down the table and caught Gwaine's wink and the amused smirks on both Percival and Leon that indicated they were complicit in the dark-haired knight's attempt to get him drunk. He gave Gwaine a reproachful glance and got an unapologetic grin in response. The noise level sank as all those in the hall lifted their goblets.

"Samhain marks the beginning of another year, the beginning of the dark days of winter, and a time when we feel closest to the spirits of our ancestors. It is a time to celebrate the passing of those we have lost." Arthur paused and met Guinevere's eyes. "Our brothers, our fathers." He gave Mithian a sympathetic look before he faced the room again. "All those we name in our hearts."

The king raised his goblet and everyone followed suit, wine sloshing as some of the knights enthusiastically, or drunkenly, joined in the toast. Merlin took a deep drink, noting that Gwaine downed his entire cup almost in one gulp. Then Merlin's eyes fell on the guard whispering urgently in Leon's ear.

The First Knight dismissed the messenger with a grave expression, but did not interrupt the king's speech. Once Arthur had sat down again and the revelers turned their attention back to the food and drink spread in front of them, Leon quietly approached the king.

Grim-faced, Arthur nodded at what his knight had whispered and gave orders that the Round Table should assemble.

"Queen Annis and King Gwynllyw have both confirmed this?" Arthur asked.

Leon nodded. "Caerleon's scouts have been watching Rheged as have Daobeth's from their side. They've seen what our own scouts saw: Urien's forces are assembled at our northern border."

"It's been almost two years since he made his last assault with Alined's backing, why now?" the king said. "Does he have allies?"

"Olaf assures us that Alined has made no effort to assemble his soldiers, nor have either Odin or Bayard given any indication of breaking their treaties with Camelot. The alliance with Meliant and Godwyn is solid," Ector said. "None of them stand with Urien."

Leon spoke gravely. "There have been sightings of the white dragon in Rheged."

All eyes turned to him.

"The creature has caused no harm in Urien's kingdom, but it attacked our northern outpost near Rheged's border," Leon continued. "Where that dragon is, Morgana is."

"That could be the advantage he believes he has now," Percival said.

Silently Merlin berated himself for not having ended Morgana's bitter quest permanently before now. How many times had he defeated her but always stopped short of killing her, always held back, unwilling to be her executioner. He was haunted by the day he had looked her in the eye and seen utter betrayal when he acknowledged to her face that he had poisoned her deliberately. She had been crushed by the knowledge that he intended to kill her when she thought he was a friend. He had not set aside his guilt and far too many people had paid the price since then: people who had died in Morgana's relentless assaults on Camelot, people who had been in her way, people she had used.

"All the information we have suggests Morgana has little support left," Leon said. "The Saxons who aided her in Ismere have retreated to the southeast, and there are fewer and fewer reports of other sorcerers at her side."

Arthur frowned. "She's still a threat, more so if she has Rheged's soldiers with her. Does Urien mean to attack?"

"Why else does one assemble and equip an army?" Ector said.

"I will meet with Urien to talk terms of peace."

"Sire, do you really believe you can satisfy his desire for power with a treaty?" Leon asked.

The king looked him in the eye. "I have to try, but I will do so with an army at my back. We march north tomorrow."

In spite of the fact that he needed to be ready for a long march the next day, Merlin was determined to fulfill one duty yet that night. He made his way out of Camelot, summoning a cold, blue light to his palm when the trees blocked the dim glow of the crescent moon, until he reached a clearing a short distance from the city walls. His breath was visible in the cold air when he called out.

Within moments the night air was disturbed by the flapping of gigantic wings as the Great Dragon landed gracefully on the forest floor, stirring the soggy, brown leaves. As he came to rest on his four powerful legs, Merlin winced to see that Kilgharrah's left wing had further deteriorated.

"I have been expecting your call, Emrys. This is about the young dragon, is it not?"

"You know Aithusa is in league with Morgana," Merlin said.

The dragon nodded his great head.

"Did you know Aithusa was responsible for saving Morgana's life after we took Camelot back from her?"

"Yes, but I could not prevent the young one from aiding the witch any more than I could convince you not to save her when she was dying of her head injury."

Merlin felt the sting of the chastisement for not letting Morgana die before she revealed her true loyalties. So much death and destruction could have been avoided if only he had been able to deal with his own remorse for what she had become. "Did you know they were both imprisoned by the Sarrum?"

Kilgharrah dipped his head sadly. "No, at the time I was not aware of the little one's suffering or I would have aided her in some way. Now I fear she has come to trust the witch more than me."

"I failed in my duties as a dragonlord, didn't I? In whatever it is I was expected to do for the young dragon?"

"In times past the dragonlords helped and instructed each other, sharing what had been learned by previous generations. You are alone. But it is not too late to help Aithusa."

"Will you be able to heal her and teach her to speak?"

"Between us we can mend her physical deformities, but her bond with the witch is strong."

Merlin resolved to prove to the white dragon he could take care of her and she was not dependent on Morgana alone. He straightened his shoulders. "What do I do?"

"You only have to call her."

"Will she come?"

"You called her from the egg, she will have to respond to you now."

Merlin took a deep breath and used the same words he had used to summon Kilgharrah, but this time he concentrated on Aithusa, then he waited. Several moments passed and he looked questioningly at the Great Dragon, but Kilgharrah signalled patience. Shortly they heard the squawking shriek that announced the white dragon's arrival and the air was stirred by a pair of strong wings. The flurry was quieter than the windstorm kicked up by the larger dragon's landing.

After the white dragon settled to the ground, she gave them both an anxious look as though uncertain whether they meant her harm.

Merlin took a step closer and she opened her mouth to spout flame before thinking better of such an action.

She dropped her head submissively as he came closer, his hand stretched out to her.

"It's all right," he said reassuringly.

She took a few limping steps towards him. Now that he had time to really look, it appeared that her right wing was misshapen and the front leg on that side was stunted. The back leg had an odd twist. Her skin seemed to have a sickly pallor although it was difficult to tell against the white colour.

When Merlin was close enough, he patted her head and she allowed him to touch her, giving him a mournful look that renewed his guilt at having neglected her until now. At the physical contact he began to sense that she was speaking, although not in words. He felt intense loneliness, and the despair of a creature meant to soar through the sky confined instead in a dark pit, unable to move. He also felt the strength of attachment to Morgana and a kinship with her loneliness and feeling of being trapped. His own memories flooded him of the woman who had risked her safety to journey with him to his village and fight bandits, who had bravely confronted the Afanc with Arthur, mourned with Gwen over her father's death, and begged to be left alone in the Druid camp where she had learned for certain of her magic.

Alarmed, Merlin took his hand away from Aithusa, instantly interrupting the flow of emotions. He forcibly reminded himself that Morgana had since allowed her fear and hate to turn her into someone bent on destroying anyone and anything standing between her and total control of the kingdom she thought belonged to her. Including numerous attempts to kill Arthur who had done her no wrong except be ignorant of her fear.

The white dragon was looking at him mournfully.

"I don't blame you for befriending Morgana, and I'm sorry I haven't taken proper care of you." Merlin looked at the Kilgharrah. "Can you heal her leg and wing?"

"Bring her closer."

The sorcerer motioned to Aithusa to approach the Great Dragon, but she shook her head, dipping her long neck close to the earth and peering up at him. The dragonlord wondered if he should order her to move or attempt to persuade her more gently. Finally, he held out his hand again. "Come," he coaxed.

Her head remained close to the ground with her eyes fixed on him, but she sidled closer to the night-coloured dragon who dwarfed her in size.

"Come on," Merlin encouraged and she sidled closer again.

When she was nearly under Kilgharrah's nose but not touching his front legs, she stopped and looked up at the Great Dragon.

Slowly, he leaned his head closer and opened his great jaw, then he released a blast of magic so powerful Merlin thought sparkles danced in the air of his breath.

Aithusa closed her eyes and whimpered in pain but her right wing gradually straightened, her front leg grew a bit longer, and her back leg straightened.

Kilgharrah paused to examine the smaller dragon.

Merlin thought she still looked haggard but more balanced.

She opened her eyes and gave them both a reproachful look, then took a few tentative steps. The limp was much less noticeable.

"I have to return to Camelot, and I cannot allow Aithusa to go back to Morgana. Will you watch over her?" Merlin asked.

"I am not long for this world, Emrys, but I can promise that as long as I am alive I will keep the little one with me. This last time I will be of help to you."

Merlin felt a tightness inside his chest when he recalled what the Great Dragon had said the last time they spoke. "How do I take care of Aithusa when you're gone?"

"Call her, speak with her. She will be the last of her kind, yet she will live for hundreds of years. Remind her she was here to see the birth of Albion, a bright shining kingdom of peace where magic is free, which will be treasured in people's minds for centuries."

"We haven't got there yet. Even now an army is marching toward Camelot intending to tear apart what Arthur has built, to destroy the bridges he has made with the other kingdoms," Merlin said.

"Then tell her how long and hard so many have worked to build that world."

"Will we be successful?"

"Be assured of one thing, there was never anyone more capable than you, young warlock."

Merlin felt a stab of apprehension; what did that really mean?

Without another word, the Great Dragon fixed a look on the smaller dragon, then lifted his huge bulk into the sky, sending deadfall scattering from beneath him in the wind of his passing. Merlin shivered in the cold breeze. With a final nervous glance at him, Aithusa spread her wings and followed.

The sky was faintly lighter on the eastern horizon and Merlin sighed. He would get little sleep before the next day's march.

"Arthur."

The king reined in his horse when Merlin rode up next to him. The knights followed suit, passing the word back along the ranks to halt their forward march.

They had left the heavily forested area and the trees here were shorter as well as further apart, barren of leaves in the winter cold, and the undergrowth was brown and soggy. Arthur knew the terrain in front of them should be open plain but it was shrouded in mist. A heavy dampness in the air filtered the sunlight, making it dim as well as silent in the valley below.

Arthur listened carefully but there was nothing to indicate Urien's forces were close by. He was about to give the order to continue when Merlin spoke again.

"It's magic," he warned.

"It's fog," Arthur contradicted, his breath visible in the cool air.

Merlin shook his head, and the king watched the sorcerer stretch out his palm, muttering under his breath as his eyes glowed. A strong wind grew in front of them, swirling up damp leaves and small branches as it gained strength, then Merlin gestured as though pushing the air forward. The wind cut through the fog, clearing a path through the valley stretched out below.

When the mists parted, Arthur heard hooves stamp and weapons rattle, the sounds clearly coming from the open plains they had nearly ridden directly into. He watched as Merlin stretched both arms out in front of himself, then spread them wide. On cue, the heavy winds cut across the open valley, sweeping back the fog to both sides of the plain, giving Arthur a clear view of the enemy troops in wait below them. The fog curled back on itself, shrouding Arthur's forces in the mists which had formerly concealed Urien's men.

Their double advantage of concealment and surprise gone, the Rheged knights shouted and charged in the general direction of Arthur's troops.

Silently, Arthur signalled Leon to divide their forces so they could outflank the enemy while Arthur led his core of fighters to meet the coming onslaught.

Merlin's heart leapt into his throat as it always did when Arthur charged into battle, but the sorcerer concentrated on locating Morgana or whoever was responsible for summoning the fog cover. His eyes on the fighting in the open valley below, Merlin was caught off guard by a blast of magic that pulled him from his mount and threw him backward several paces. His head grazed the rough bark of a tree stump. His horse whinnied in protest and bolted.

Thankful he had not been knocked unconscious, Merlin looked up from where he had landed on the cold, wet ground. A large man stared down at him, his face completely concealed by the hood of the black cloak he wore.

"You must be the great Emrys my lady Morgana has told me about." As he spoke, the man lifted his hands to pull back his hood to reveal a bald head marked by a Druid tattoo on his thick neck and a derisive sneer on his face.

"Morgana is wrong to continue this battle with Arthur for the throne of Camelot," Merlin said, staring up at the man. "All she accomplishes is to fan the fear people have of us. We will never achieve peace if we exchange Uther's tyranny for Morgana's. Arthur is our only hope to bring about a new world, a world we dream of."

The heavyset man snorted in response, the heat of his breath fogging the cool air. "Your king tolerates us, no more than that. My family will live in a kingdom ruled by a sorceress who understands what it is to have magic, who will bring back the old ways."

"No!" Merlin said. "Arthur will create a new world where we can live in peace."

"Peace is enforced by power, and I have been entrusted with the task of ensuring you do not use the power you were mistakenly given to hinder my lady Morgana's plans."

With those words, the blade Ari had concealed in his heavy cloak hurtled itself at Merlin with a speed greater than any human hand could have thrown it. Merlin raised his palm and the blade stopped in mid-air, then spun around and rushed back at the large man even faster than before.

Ari had barely time to deflect the weapon, allowing it to embed itself in the moss-covered trunk of a nearby tree. The black-cloaked man smiled, although it did nothing to lessen his sinister expression. "So the tales are not entirely without merit."

Ari's eyes flashed and a bolt of flame exploded from his outstretched arm.

Merlin held up a hand, palm out, and the bolt of flame crashed into an invisible barrier before it deflected into the barren branches of a nearby bush causing an explosion of sparks which fizzled out on the damp ground. He got slowly to his feet without breaking eye contact, prepared for the next attack. "You can stop this now," he warned.

The smile faltered but in answer Ari began a chant. The air in front of him shimmered as though it were the heat of summer, a column of air rising slowly as he continued his incantation. A tiny whirlwind of soggy brown leaves and sticks formed below.

Merlin spoke his own incantation, his eyes flashing gold. The whirlwind exploded outward and he felt warm wind rush past his cheek.

"Leave now, tell Morgana to face me herself," Merlin demanded.

Ari was no longer smiling; a trickle of sweat ran down his bald head. He reached into a pouch at his waist to withdraw something which could have been a smooth pebble except for the sparks buried in its depths, tiny flashes of red and purple. As Ari began an incantation, a glowing ball of flame formed around the pebble on his palm, crackling with energy. Then Ari tossed the pebble in the air, chanting his incantation, and the flaming ball launched itself at Merlin.

In response, the sorcerer caught it.

Ari's eyes grew wide as the ball increased in brightness before it came racing back at him. When it struck, the impact sent him flying backward to land on the damp ground, his cloak charred and smoking. He did not move again.

Merlin stared down at the dead man, about to lower his arm, when he heard someone approach from behind him. He spun around and the knight stopped dead.

"Gwaine!" Merlin relaxed his defensive posture.

"We heard loud noises and saw flashes of fire," the dark-haired knight said gruffly, his eyes going to the body on the ground.

Merlin frowned. "You should be protecting Arthur. The battle –"

"Finished," Gwaine said. He tossed his hair back over his shoulder and nodded behind him.

When Merlin looked down the sloping ground to the open plain below, he saw red-cloaked Camelot knights combing the field for wounded soldiers. There were many more fallen bodies with Rheged's silver wolf than there were red shields with the golden dragon.

"We won," Gwaine added unnecessarily. He looked over at the heavy-set man whose black cloak was smouldering. "I guess you did, too."

Merlin met the knight's grin with a small smile that did not touch his eyes. Gwaine put his arm around the younger man and steered him toward the plain below.

After Merlin had done what he could to treat the injured, he joined Arthur and the knights at the temporary command tent they had set up. The bright daylight had faded and the sky in the west was pink.

Gwaine and Percival were cleaning their weapons. Leon was reciting to the king each knight dead or wounded as well as the number of enemy soldiers killed and wounded. King Urien had not been with his troop, nor had his son. No one had seen Morgana.

"Our scouts just returned," Leon said. "No other troop has crossed the border into Camelot. In fact King Urien and the remainder of his forces are withdrawing inside Rheged's borders."

"After just one battle?" Arthur inquired in puzzlement.

"It appears so," Leon answered although he, too, appeared uneasy.

"We showed them what they're up against and they know they can't beat us," Gwaine boasted.

Percival rolled his eyes.

"It was too easy," Arthur said.

"Easy?" Gwaine protested. "I'll have you know –"

The king shook his head. "It was a test of our defences."

Leon frowned. "Surely they didn't need to engage in battle merely to determine our strength."

"A test of all our defences," Arthur said, looking at Merlin.

Leon, Gwaine, and Percival also turned to look at the sorcerer who stared back at the king, puzzled.

"From what you said, that man in the black cloak was a powerful sorcerer and he was allied with Morgana. She was using him to test you."

She had sent her most powerful ally, arming him with an enchantment to use if his own magic was not enough to defeat Emrys.

"It has been just over a year since she discovered who you are, and she needed to see what you can do. That's also why the white dragon attacked our northern outpost," Arthur continued.

"The dragon is no longer with Morgana," Merlin said.

The king digested that piece of information.

"And her sorcerer is dead," Leon said. "The question is, what will she do now?"

"We have no choice but to return to Camelot and wait for either Urien or Morgana to make another move. We will reinforce all the garrisons near Rheged, but I will not attack his kingdom and allow him to claim we are the aggressors. I can accuse him of harbouring Morgana but he can simply deny her presence or refuse to answer my demand."

"I say we march into Rheged, wipe out Urien's army, and deal with Morgana the same way she dealt with us." Gwaine held up his cleaned and sharpened blade.

"Morgana would elude us as she always does and the bloodshed would be pointless," Arthur said.

"It would end Urien's ambitions to take Camelot," Leon said.

"I seek to end this in a way that we can live peaceably afterward. I will not repay tyranny, greed, and spite with the same. When we fight, it will be with honour and pride for the future of Camelot, the future of Albion."

When Arthur spoke like that, Merlin knew the king would accomplish everything the prophecies spoke of: a land united in lasting peace, a just and fair kingdom for all. That was why the people of Camelot revered him with a devotion they had never shown to Uther. They had believed Uther to be a strong king, yet there had always been a current of fear, even among those who did not possess magic. That was also why rulers who had been reigning over kingdoms when Arthur was a babe followed his lead despite his relative youth; not because they feared to face him in battle, but because they believed him to be worthy of their faith and trust.

Merlin saw the same reverent looks on the faces of the knights as he wore himself. They also believed Arthur would unite the kingdoms in a peace that would last, free of oppression, although for Merlin the wait had been so much longer.

Leon gave Arthur a deeply respectful bow before he left to pass along the orders to strike camp in the morning and return to Camelot.