The five greater kingdoms of Albion, Nemeth, Camelot, Caerleon, Escetia, and Lot's kingdom, were not alone. Numerous smaller kingdoms, ruled by Olaf, Elena, Bayard, and others, dotted the landscape.
When Cenred died, Lot claimed a large chunk of his kingdom and turned covetous eyes to Caerleon and Nemeth. Smaller kingdoms expanded as they could. Caerleon grabbed most of waht remained although Camelot, under Arthur, claimed just enough to straighten its border along the White Mountains.
Yes, this meant Ealdor was now part of Camelot. Yes, it meant Arthur could now send patrols there. But the same went for a number of other villages. There was no significance to the act whatsoever.
Caerleon died. Annis took his place. Lot tested her.
Lot retreated to nurse his bloodied nose. In more ways than one.
The smaller kingdoms fell to infighting. When King Olaf died, Vivian appealed to Camelot for help. Arthur would have been happy to send men in exchange for a reaffirmation of the treaty, but Vivian had netiher the talent nor the inclination to rule. She surrendered her lands to Arthur without being asked and demoted herself to "Lady". It was probably for the best.
Elena, similarly threatened, also had to fight against Morgana. Through a series of treaties, a similar deal was reached. The invading kingdom was crushed and conquered quickly.
The remaining kingdom turned on Bayard and killed him. In accordance with the treaty, Arthur stepped in. (That treaty had cost them far too much to be ignored, thank you very much. And there was a reason Arthur had made sure no drinks were served during the recent treaty signings.)
The smaller kingdoms had been swallowed up. Normally, history would view this as a bad thing.
But then, normally the new peoples were oppressed. Normally, the new empire wasn't Albion.
Lot felt threatened. He'd learned his lesson with Annis, but Nemeth . . .
Rodor was dead. He had been old and sick. Mithian was a strong queen, but her lords refused to accept her. It was a sign of her skill that she'd held them together this long.
. . . . . .
The candle burned low at her desk. The papers from her spies werer still stacked too deeply to even think of rest tonight.
She rubbed her eyes tiredly. She'd stretched the marriage game for as long as she could. The lords were getting impatient. She'd either have to marry one of them or drop the pretense.
Mithian wasn't holding out for love. Her kingdom came first, now and always. She'd marry any of them in a heartbeat, no matter how old or disgusting, if she thought there was a one of them who wouldn't just make the situation worse.
If only Arthur . . . Well, he was married now. It wasn't as if she'd loved him, either, but he had been her age and good looking. She'd liked him, and he was an excellent ruler. Her lords would have accepted him. As far as political marriages went, it didn't get much better than that.
The curtains stirred in the breeze.
Her window hadn't been open.
Silently, she drew a dagger from her skirt. Thsi wouldn't be the first attempt on her life, and she was determined it wouldn't be the last. She stood and walked towards the fire as if deep in thought.
Then she whirled, blade raised. It clashed against another with enough force that it went flying out of her hand. She screamed for her guards, only to find her voice trapped in her throat.
A slender man in a black cloak stood before her, hand outstretched. THe hand holding the knife - the left one - had lowered.
"Peace, your highness. I came only to bear a message."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Oh. Right." He sounded almost sheepish. And familiar . . .
He dropped the knife and released the spell.
"Who are you?"
"Seeing as magic is still outlawed where I come from, I think I'd rather not answer that."
Magic was outlawed in many places, but only Camelot did much about it.
Camelot. Her eyes widened. "Merlin?"
"Of course not! I am . . . Dragoon! The Great!"
"Merlin."
"Only Arthur is allowed to say my name like that. Speaking of Arthur, he thought you should know that you can't trust Felix and Ambrosius."
"I know that, but how does Arthur?"
"They might have been trying to convince him to overthrow you."
That was new. "Wonderful."
Merlin let the hood fall back and drifted closer to the fire. His eyes were sympathetic. "Arthur won't, of course, but they might well turn to Lot next, and you know what he's like."
She did. "Since when does Arthur send you out to go sneaking into castles?"
He grinned. "Since he found out I'm really, really good at it. He thought it best if he didn't go through official channels."
"And have you thought it best to tell him why you're so good at what you do?"
His smile faltered. "He-He's not ready yet. He'll hate me."
"Are you so sure?"
"Sure enought that I'd be happy to put some protective wards on your room if you promise not to mention it."
There was real fear in his eyes. Mithian couldn't help it.
She melted.
"All right. But don't worry about the wards, I'm not trying to blackmail you."
The grin was back, brighter than ever. "I put them up before we started talking. Your security is awful. NO offense," he tacked on hastily. "Everyone's is."
"Except Arthur's."
"That's my job."
"Is it one of the qualifications for manservant? Because ladies' maids are useless."
He laughed.
She walked over to her desk. "Merlin, Lot will attack any day now. My country is on the brink of a civil war. My poeple cannot survive both at once."
"No," he said soberly. "But it doesn't have to come to that."
"Oh?"
"Give me a week. Your lords' loyalty to you will be the envy of Albion."
"How?"
He grinned again, but this time it was almost feral. "Trust me."
"Why?" she asked quietly.
He knew what she meant. "You hired a band of mercenaries. One of them is named Mordred. I need him dead."
"Why?" she repeated.
"Because if he's not, he'll kill Arthur."
Ah. So that was why the happy boy's face had gone so hard. "Done, then."
"Done."
Both fulfilled their end of the bargain.
. . . . .
Annis died. Lot invaded her lands. She had left no heir.
The people appealed to Arthur for help. He fought for them, fighting Lot to a stalemate. Arthur was heavily wounded in battle.
Merlin . . . may have overreacted.
On the plus side, Arthur was healed, Lot was dead, and so was a good portion of the enemy army.
On the downside, Merlin's secret was out.
. . . . .
Arthur was still staring at him. Merlin was starting to get uncomfortable.
"Sorry?" he tried.
Arthur started laughing. It was a slightly hysterical sound.
"Arthur? Arthur, are you alright?"
"Alright? Alright? You're a sorcererer!"
"Warlock, but basically . . . Yeah."
"And you never thought to mention this because . . . "
"You'd have had me executed."
ARthur stared at him for a moment. Then he was laughing once more. There was a definite note of hysteria there. "You just destroyed half an army," he managed to gasp out. "How - exactly - could I have had you executed?"
Merlin looked at him indignantly. "What, I was just supposed to blast the knights out of the way and make a run for it? Who would have looked after you?"
"Looked after me."
"Someone has to check your food for poison, and kill assassins, and find traitors, and break love spells and curses, and - and - "
"Tell me when I"m being a prat," Arthur supplied.
"Exactly! You need me. I'm Emrys. It's my job to protect you."
Arthur had read the prophecies after Morgana had dropped the name. "And the rest of it?" The banter, the pranks, the stupid excuses, the sheer faith behind the pep talks? "Was that your job as Emrys too?"
"No. That was my job as your friend."
Arthur considered that for a moment. "I can live with that."
. . . . .
Lot's kingdom became a part of Albion. The ban on magic was repealed. One would think the sorcerers would no longer have anything to complain about.
One did. She enchanted Arthur and then disappeared. Arthur slept for days.
. . . . .
Arthur jerked awake with haunted eyes. "Merlin!"
"Sire! Are you alright?"
Arthur grabbed his wrist. "You are never going anywhere alone ever again. And if by some miracle you manage to, you aren't allowed to do anything when you get back until Gaius gives you a full checkover."
"Wha-Why?"
"Oh, I don't know, Merlin," he said, sarcasm dripping. "It can't have anything to do with the serkets. Or the poisonings. Or the fomorrah. Or Nimueh. Or - "
Merlin's face had gone white. "Exactly what did you see?"
Arthur stared at him grimly. "Apparently that you have the self preservation instincts of a lemming."
. . . . .
Arthur made sure word got around. The knights - and Gwen - were behind Arthur's measures wholeheartedly. They also formed a "Merlin-Looks-Sad Committee". When the stopped watching his mouth and started watching his eyes, they were appalled how much he'd been hiding behind that smile.
It was time to do something about that.
. . . . .
The Saxons attacked Nemeth. IT came under Albion's protection, and Arthur drove them off.
. . . . .
"The druids say Emrys translates to immortal." Arthur's voice was quiet.
"What does that mean?" Because it couldn't mean the obvious. It couldn't.
Merlin grinned. "It means, unlike the rest of you, I won't have to get a nasty, painful sword wound before I can go to Avalon to wait for the time for us to return."
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "But you'll be there?"
"Of course I will. Knowing you, you'll find some way to get poisoned in the middle of paradise."
"I've only been posioned one time!"
"Because I've taken it for you all the others! Besides, what about the time in Gedref, huh?"
"That doesn't count."
"Sure it doesn't."
"Idiot."
"Prat."