—PROLOGUE II—

A council of lords and dukes was held at the stronghold of Tintagel in the Southlands, Uther's domain, being the last defensive bastion left in Britain. Uther Pendragon now sat at the head of the long rectangular table, patiently waiting as the other lords roared and argued about their mage situation.

"If they are so innocent, then where are they now?" Lord Markus of Cornwall bellowed at Sir Bedivere. "Why do they hide from us now?!"

Unlike most of the other banner-lords, Bedivere son of Bedrawd believed that inciting nationwide persecution of Britain's mages would bring the country to the brink of destruction. "You know exactly why, Cornwall," he responded, banging his fists onto the table. "They are running for their lives!"

"And what of Merlin?" Lord Lot then began. "You really think it wise to let the most powerful person in the world loose out there."

"For all we know, Merlin could have been the mastermind behind this revolt!" Father Palamedes cried out over the others. His distain for the mage population was well known by most people in court. Usually, his backhanded attitude was insignificant enough to simply ignore but this time, it got Uther's attention.

"Enough!" the king stood up from his seat and looked around at the others. "It was a Mage that helped liberate this country, a fifteen-year-old boy that risked his own life to free you all!" he sighed, leaning against the surface of the table. "There will be no more killings. There will be no more purges. Am I clear, my good lords?"

There was silence…then they all agreed collectively. Uther dismissed them all for the time being. He was tired, and all he needed now was to be with family. Disgruntled, the other nobles respectfully dispersed from the great hall, all save Uryen was seemed troubled and somewhat dazed.

"You alright, brother?" Uther asked him.

Uryen shrugged. "I just need a rest, Uther."

Uther shared his sentiment and tried his best to comfort his younger brother. "We haven't even buried Ambrosius yet." His voice was distant, marked by sadness and anger.

"I will make all of the preparations immediately, Your Grace." A beautiful dark-haired woman in a ravishing emerald dress came into the council hall, courteously curtsying before him and then lovingly embracing his brother.

"Madryn, my brother is troubled and in need of your attention."

The raven-haired beauty blushed and held her distraught husband tightly. Soon a little girl also appeared and hugged them both. Uryen's five-year-old daughter beamed up at her parents, the youthful glint in her eyes like sparkling gems drew a smile from them with ease. A tear threatened to seep from the northern king's eyes as he hugged the two most important things in his life.

Uther smiled at his extending family, healthy and happy as they were and bade them farewell for up in his own chambers, his wife and their five-year-old son lay asleep.

Tintagel Fortress was a fine castle, overlooking the vast western oceans, propped brazenly on a small, elevated island accessible only by a narrow causeway connecting it to the rest of Britain. Ever since the fall of Vortigern, Uther had called it his home, where he governed the lower portions of the country, whether its collecting taxes, or border disputes or defending the coast from Viking annoyances, but in the north-western wing, was the realm where he held respite from the trappings of his courtly duties.

Once he arrived at his kingdom of rest, he smiled, finding his wife still abed, laying in a pool of golden hair. She held in her embrace their young son, perfectly content in his dreams. Uther came over a kissed them both on the temple.

"Oh, my king," Igraine was stirred slightly, offering him a sleepy smile. "How was your meeting?"

Uther at first said nothing, just lightly stroked her golden hair. When he finally spoke, he asked her how she was doing. Her response was a simple but assuring nod. He knew what she wanted to ask, after the fate of her people—those who still followed the Old Ways, like Druids, pagan priests…and Mages. He would ask her how she felt about them, especially after the uprising. But it was clear that the actual Mages involved were few. Important notaries to be sure. The Mages that were there with Archimedes upon the battlefield were notable figures in the Magisteriums, nobles…it was inevitable that the nobility would rise up. Yet the people who now lay below Hadrian's Wall had gone after magical commoners. Small people trying to make a living. Now they were in hiding once again.

"Merlin was right," he finally told her as he caressed her ruby cheeks. "We weren't ready for them."

During the battle on The Wall, Igraine was to stay put in Tintagel with the people that sought refuge there. Displaced citizens from all over the country. Afterall, Uther's castle was famed for being a mostly impregnable stronghold. The narrow bridge and natural defences provided the best protection and as it stood Tintagel could not be taken by any force, least by direct assault.

Here, he was safe. The king put Excalibur down on his desk and lay himself behind his wife on the bed, spooning his family in his own protection, waiting eagerly for sleep to take him.

…

In his own dark tower, in the east wing, Uryen stood at the window overlooking the old castle. Like the Great Wall, it was a remnant of the old Roman rule with a few minor modifications in the defences, some of which he had a hand in designing for his brother.

Madryn crept up behind him, snaking her arms around his chest. She felt him tense and asked what was wrong but her troubled husband remained quiet. Suddenly, Uryen turned to look at her.

"I need to do something, my love," he said, gravely. "And I need you to help me."

A second later the northern king took his beloved by the hand and the two ran down and into a part of the castle that she had not seen before. The ordered, firmly rectangular stones had started to transform into rock and water.

"Darling, where are we?"

Again, Uryen said nothing. They travelled down for what felt like hours and by then it was nothing but darkness. The light came only from the fiery torch emanating in his hands. Even with their frantic movement, he could still feel his wife's delicate slender hands trembling. He felt himself hesitate, even a small bit but he couldn't, he was much too close now.

Soon they got to the end of the dry path laid out for them. At the edge of what seemed to be an underground lake of some sort.

Madryn gasped with wonder as she looked upon the dark waters, they twinkled strangely in the artificial light of their torch. "Sweetheart, my love," she sighed, still holding his hand. "What is this place?"

After a while, Uryen finally turned to face her. But what she saw filled her heart with sadness and dread. The caring blue eyes of her beloved companion was drowning in a sea of red. "This place… is my power." The last words he would ever utter to her as the sound of steel ripping flesh echoed off the rock cave and the searing pain that accompanied it.

The air had been cut from her throat as the northern queen slumped down in his arms. Uryen held her close, eyes pooling with tears of unspeakable pain. What had he done?! He looked onto the waters and saw a pale, naked woman standing half submerged in the water. She was beautiful, with piercing blue eyes that seemed almost unnaturally captivating, and hair as black as a crypt on a moonless night.

"You know the price, my king," said this woman of the underground lake.

Uryen understood and knelt before her, presenting to the Dark Fae his slain wife, the love of his life…the price to be paid.

The womanly creature walked over to them and lowered herself to meet the couple, though her wishes were malignant, she held a kind and reservedly warm smile when he glanced at her. "Then, do you accept your quest?"

Wordlessly, King Uryen nodded.

"In that case," suddenly the mysterious woman's warm smile contorted into a malicious, unnatural grin. "Long live…the king."

…

Queen Igraine was roused by her husband's hands which instantly came to gesture her silence. "We need to leave now, my love. Grab the boy, we need to get to the pier."

All she could do was nod and as her husband requested, took their one-year-old son into his father's arms. The family ran through the destruction and the fighting. It came from right under their noses. The armies of Lord Gorlois and Lord Caradoc had out of nowhere began dispatching Uther's own knights in the dead of night, at the height of the merriment. One moment everyone was gleefully feasting and drinking and enjoying the revelries to commemorate their victory over the Mage rebellion, then the next thing they knew, their own allies began to slaughter them.

The courtyard erupted into roars of chaos and fighting. Northern knights baring the white unicorn upon their plated chests were suddenly enveloped by dark shadows and smoke. Their eyes turned to shimmering embers and they found themselves empowered by strength and bloodlust.

Through the crowd of men in battle, struggling to wrestle control of the castle in the courtyard, Uther led his family toward the river. A small underground stream that led to the Thames. He had a boat there. Among the Southern knights of Uther, he saw Bedivere leading a small battalion to his side, himself clad in full plated armour, wielding a steel greatsword almost as tall as he was.

As another wave of hostile forces came charging in through the main gate, Sir Bedivere was driven back. With reluctance he sounded the retreat, making their way instead, to their king's side.

"Sire, they've taken the northern gatehouse and the stables. We are cut off from escape!"

"You need to get your men out and sound a retreat through the secret passages. Get to the boats and we will rendezvous at Londinium so we can make sense of this chaos." Hand in hand, the king and queen made their way toward the docks, their valiant knights, had raised their shields to protect them. "Have you seen my brother?"

Bedivere shook his head

"What about Madryn and Morgana?" Igraine then inquired, with deep concern for both her sister-in-law and niece. She had not seen them leave the castle, but the knight was silent and Uther feared the worst.

Suddenly they heard a door burst on their right and another wave of men came flooding in. At this Sir Bedivere's serious expression intensified. "Get to the boats, Your Grace! The men will hold them back as long as possible." With that the other knights left, forming a human wall between their king and those who would see him dead.

Still holding onto their sleepy son, Uther and his queen finally got to the small wooden pier and the lowly boat waiting there. He stopped in the middle and turned to Igraine. "Take him, Igraine and wait by the boat." As usual she bobbed her head and recovered their child from him, running to the small dingy.

All the while, Uther sensing the chill of danger in the night air, finally drew out Excalibur— for a few steps behind them was a large, dark figure astride a fiery steed. A fully armoured man, protected by shadow and flame, and a horned helmet to hide his face. This dark menace stood idle for a few moments, his torn and still burning cape danced in the night winds, keeping his gaze firmly on him which was good—more attention on him meant less attention on Igraine or their son.

Then this rider produced a large sword, one as big as he was tall, and without overexertion of strength sent the blade toward him. Uther prepared himself to counter it but to his surprise it blew past him.

Shock and terror played his face as he turned to his wife, standing a few paces from the edge of the pier, the water behind her still rippling a path of where the sword had continued to travel. Surprise and fear seared into her face like a plague as she looked down at the large gaping hole in her chest…

Then she fell back and into the dark waters…

…

—SWORD IN THE STONE—

…

The dream ripped Arthur's eyes open. A dream? No, a nightmare. He woke up in a pool of sweat, panting like a dying mut. Though he had slept all night uninterrupted, he felt like he hadn't slept in days. It took a lot of energy just to get him to sit up on his bed.

Arthur sighed as he tried very hard to calm his racing heart down…