The Stoat, the Fox, and How They Met

by smartypantsflute

Merlin is a dragonlord, a warlock, a High Priest, Emrys, and a stoat. He's the leader of a Druid camp, setting up for one of the most sacred rites of the year. Arthur is a knight, a warrior, a soldier, king, and a fox. He's the king of Camelot Wood, investigating suspicious weasel activity in Camelot Wood territory.

This is my first fest submission (Merlin Fantasy AU Fest), so I hope you guys like the time and effort put into this. I need to thank three people: griffon and Lucky on The Merlin Library, my lovely alpha and beta, who put up with every single stupid question and really obvious spelling mistake I made throughout the process. You two are wonderful people. I also need to thank opens-up-4-nobody on Tumblr for giving me what I believe to be the original inspiration for a stoat Merlin and fox Arthur.

---

Arthur was bored. It wasn't that he didn't care for audiences; it was just that audiences seemed to drag on forever and involve a lot of pandering to lords that didn't deserve to be pandered to. The fox adjusted the clasp around his neck, pretending to listen to the vole standing in front of him, droning on and on about taxes and why he should be made exempt. Arthur leaned back on his throne, waiting…waiting…waiting…

The doors to the throne room burst open, a small, frail-looking raccoon rushing in. The vole fell silent. Arthur stared at the raccoon in silence, waiting for his explanation.

The raccoon swept into a deep bow. "Sire, I come bearing news."

Arthur waved a paw. "Go on, Lord Bartholomew." At least it's something different.

The raccoon straightened, taking a moment to catch his breath. He cleared his throat. "There is news, sire," he reported breathlessly, "that the weasels are meeting in the Grove."

The throne room rang with silence. The Grove was contested territory, certainly, but the weasels had never been so bold as to just waltz into the Grove without concern before. Whispers started to fill the silence, gossip and threats and disbelief bouncing off the walls, echoing in Arthur's ears.

Arthur leaned forward on his throne. Very interesting. "Are they?"

Lord Bartholomew nodded. "Yes, sire. One of their rituals takes place at Midsummer, you know. I would wager that that ritual is the reason they're meeting."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I would suspect so. We shall investigate." Arthur turned to the small, meek-looking chipmunk standing beside the throne. "Morris, summon the Round Table."

Morris bowed deeply and muttered a simple "Yes, sire," before rushing out of the room to follow the king's orders.

The fox turned back to speak with the lord in front of him. "Thank you, Lord Bartholomew, for this information. You're dismissed."

Lord Bartholomew bowed and excused himself. The courtiers and servants filed out shortly after, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.

---

Merlin was buried in his books, as usual. Every single time before a holiday, the stoat could be trusted to be buried up to his nose in books, texts, scrolls, and even tapestries one time to make sure he was absolutely prepared. Even if it was the millionth time he'd hosted that ceremony since he was old enough to speak. Every single time: to the books.

The tent flaps opened, revealing a scruffy-looking marten with a green sash across his shoulders. The marten was named Mordred and he was one of Merlin's youngest advisors, despite all the times the useless slow worm had tried to caution him against it. The marten bowed and waited to be acknowledged. He always did that, showing so much deference to Merlin. It drove Merlin crazy. Even if he was Emrys, he didn't deserve this much respect. Mordred had grown up next to him, if a few years behind.

Merlin sighed and looked up from the tome in front of him, brushing the fur out of his eyes. "Mordred," he said, kindly, as an invitation. "What is it?"

Mordred straightened, still avoiding Merlin's eyes. "My lord, the Midsummer preparations are going well."

Merlin nodded. "Thank you, Mordred. Morgause is preparing to lead?"

"No, my lord." The marten shook his head, the curls of his fur bouncing. "Morgana is taking the lead for Midsummer. Her first ceremony."

"Oh." Merlin was surprised, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. Morgana had been training to be a High Priestess since she arrived at the camp, but she'd never led a ceremony before. This would be a good step for her. "I didn't know that. I'm certain she's prepared."

"She appears nervous, but seems to have everything under control."

Merlin nodded and smiled. "Some nerves are always a good thing, in my experience. Any activity in Camelot Wood?"

Mordred shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of, my lord. Will should return from his scouting mission-"

A commotion burst across the Forest. People shouting, whoops of joy, a creature or two starting what sounded like a bawdy tavern song. That much noise could only mean one thing.

"Will has returned now, I assume," Merlin laughed. He'd been married too long to not know the commotion his husband had a talent of bringing wherever he went.

Mordred swallowed and tried to find somewhere to look that wasn't at the eyes of the stoat sitting in front of him. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable per se, he just wasn't comfortable. "It…certainly looks that way, my lord," he responded, with a forced laugh.

Merlin just gave the poor marten a smile. "Thank you, Mordred. Continue your preparations and I'll be there to help as soon as Will finishes his report."

Mordred bowed and left. As soon as the tent flap closed behind him, Merlin could hear a new voice joining the ribald singing. Merlin smiled after him. Mordred was adorable, sometimes. He was still young, but life had not been kind to him. He'd bounced from camp to camp; every time a seer saw anything about King Arthur, Mordred was forced to run again. His parents were killed by Camelot Wood's paw. Merlin, once he was old enough to be properly in charge of his camp, adopted Mordred as something of a surrogate son. The dragon kept trying to tell him that Mordred was 'Arthur's bane,' but that slow worm never gave any useful information anyway, just riddles and attempts to get Merlin to do what he wanted.

The sudden arrival of a vole coming into the tent woke Merlin from his reverie. He entered with no respect for any sort of propriety speaking to the High King. He was flushed, his scarf untying itself to drape over his salvaged maille, daggers hastily tucked into their sheathes.

"Merls!"

Merlin's smile widened as he leapt from his seat. "Will!"

Merlin swept his husband into a crushing hug, so tight Will could barely breathe. Will, for his part, froze for a few seconds before returning the hug, squishing his husband just the way he liked. Merlin relaxedhis grip a little bit, letting Will take a breath. The two stood there, lost in a world of their own, until the comfortable silence was broken.

"What's this for, Merlin?" Will asked, still pressed against his husband's shoulder.

Merlin gave Will a final squeeze before releasing him with a deep breath. Will also took a step back from Merlin, looking straight into the stoat's eyes. Merlin swallowed, meeting the vole's gaze.

"You know how much the scouting missions scare me." Merlin was quiet, letting his heart speak for itself.

Will matched Merlin's tone. "But you know how necessary they are."

Merlin sighed and gave a distracted nod. "I do. I wish they weren't." Merlin shook his head, hoping to get his thoughts back in order.

Will gently brushed the fur on the top of Merlin's head, letting his claws scritch against Merlin's scalp the way Will knew would make his husband melt and go boneless. Merlin gently pushed his husband's arm away.

Merlin cleared his throat. "Well, any news?"

Will shook his head, fussing with his maille and retying his scarf until it fell the way he liked it looped. "As far as we could see, Camelot Wood is preparing for their midsummer celebrations." He paused to push his fur out of his eyes. "Although theirs is more of a harvest festival than a midsummer festival, the two do have remarkable similarities-"

"Will."

Will immediately stopped talking.

"On topic please?"

Will smirked. "You know me too well."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I married you." He crossed his arms. "Camelot Wood was preparing?"

"Oh, right." Will ran a paw through his fur for what felt like the millionth time. "We couldn't get very close."

That wasn't reassuring. "Why not?" Merlin immediately asked, with concern and a lump rising in his throat.

Will swallowed heavily. "The…the walls were armed, very heavily, along with extra patrols being sent out. We didn't want to risk it. We wanted to make sure everyone came back alive and figured that was a worthwhile trade for a bit less information."

Merlin nodded. "That was a good decision." Merlin ran a paw through his fur, trying to give himself comforting scritches.

Will smirked again, this time with a wink. "There's a reason I'm your favorite scout."

Merlin gave up, the self-given scritches not helping in the slightest. Will's jokes also weren't helping. Damn it Will, this is serious. He took a deep breath again. "I hope they aren't preparing for an attack." His eyes glazed over, leaving him staring into the far distance. "We don't have enough creatures to support a full-out attack. And, with the festival coming up, we have more women and kits with the camp than usual."

Will tried to distract his husband with an honest smile and a nudge on the shoulder. "Don't let Freya hear you say that."

"But it's true," Merlin insisted.

With that, Merlin decided the conversation could continue on the move. He was a High Priest as well as Emrys; he had important ceremonial duties to perform. Merlin left the tent, holding the flap open for Will to follow.

"If we need to," Will went on, managing to at least sound off-handed, "I can help lead an evacuation to the Lake."

Merlin nodded. "I'd like your plans on that on my desk by tomorrow evening."

Will gave the smallest possible curve of his back that could be called a bow, giving a cheeky wink to Merlin on the way down. "Thy will shall be done, O mighty Lord Emrys," he said, in that mocking tone that he always used to call Merlin Emrys.

Merlin responded the way he always did. With a roll of the eyes and a "Will. You're my husband."

Will straightened, rolling his shoulders. "That's why only I'm allowed to do that."

Merlin rolled his eyes again. "Are you planning on helping with the Midsummer preparations?"

Will nodded. "Absolutely, I do have a part to play in it." He playfully punched his husband's shoulder. "I just have to tell Freya I'm back first. And probably get lectured for not finding her immediately after I got back."

Merlin laughed, a loud, clear sound ringing across the Forest. He was familiar with his wife's lectures. "I'd say blame me, but I don't want that lecture either. Tell Freya I love her for me?"

"I will," Will reassured. He nuzzled Merlin's nose before running off to find their wife.

---

The Round Table was assembled in the designated meeting place: a repurposed storage room big enough for a round table that seated eight creatures. The creatures filed in and took their traditional seats. None of them could explain why, but it felt like those seats belonged to them. Gaius had said once that it was a kind of ancient magic from the creators of the table. Arthur had, reasonably, ignored that and put it out of his mind.

Gwaine leaned back in his seat, flopping his ears out of his face. The rabbit laced his paws behind his head, kicking his booted feet up onto the table. "It's a bit early for the weekly meeting, princess."

Arthur sent Gwaine a glare until he eventually sat up, feet on the ground where they belonged. "That's because this isn't the weekly meeting, Gwaine," the fox explained. "This is an emergency meeting of the Round Table."

The eyes of the raccoon across from Arthur widened. "Shouldn't this be with the War Council?" he asked, going to stand.

"Leon, sit down," Arthur ordered.

The raccoon sank back into his seat and nodded his head in a bow. "My apologies, my lord. I assumed you would want the War Council if something serious enough for an emergency meeting had come up."

Arthur took a breath and nodded to Leon. "And ordinarily, Leon, that answer would be 'yes.' This is the one exception to that. I want your opinions before I rally the council."

Leon nodded. "I understand. I apologize for interrupting."

Arthur dismissed Leon's concern with a wave of his paw. A vole leaned forward from his seat.

"What happened?" Sir Lancelot asked. He wasn't usually the type to question Arthur and his orders, but the phrase 'emergency meeting of the Round Table' usually prompted several important questions.

"I received intelligence earlier today," Arthur explained, "from Lord Bartholomew."

"Wasn't he leading the last patrol?" Gwen asked.

Arthur nodded to his mouse queen. "He told me," he addressed the table, "that the weasels are meeting in the Grove for one of their rituals."

That got the table to pay attention. Sir Percival's spikes bristled. The hedgehog was adopted by Druids after his village was raided when he was young. He'd been at their celebrations. They weren't…ruthless or evil or anything like that. It was just the creatures celebrating. This, of course, wasn't exactly a safe thing to explain to King Arthur when he was in such a state, so Percival reluctantly stayed silent. His husband laid a paw on his arm and Percival smiled down at the mouse seated next to him.

Leon didn't know what to think. He would follow his king's orders, as a good knight should. But Leon had always been a little more sympathetic towards the use of magic, especially from the Druids. His mother was a sorceress and his sister a seer. But a good knight follows the king's orders. So Leon remained silent as well.

Lancelot and Gaius shared a look across the table. The vole and the owl shared sympathies towards magic as well. Lancelot had travelled far and wide in the days before becoming one of Arthur's most trusted knights. That amount of travelling meant he was used to making friends when and where they came, be they magic or not. Gaius, meanwhile, was sensitive to the changes in magic of the environment and had a relationship with a known sorceress. The owl turned to face the king.

"Must Camelot Wood intervene?"

Arthur gave a solemn nod. "Yes."

"Why so, sire?" Gaius pressed.

"Because," Arthur replied, insistent, "the weasels are dangerous, a threat to the Wood. You know what my father insisted on. My father insisted that all weasels were magic and plotting to overthrow the Wood. Therefore-"

The Knights of the Round Table had heard this speech enough they were able to finish it by rote. "We must investigate."

"We must." Arthur turned to his wife. "Guinevere, I want you and Gaius to lead the Wood in my absence. Make sure the midsummer celebration goes correctly and the Wood isn't burnt to the ground by the time I return."

Gaius bowed as Gwen dipped her head to hide her smile.

"I think I can run a kingdom by myself," she chirped back.

"I'm sure you can," Arthur told her with an indulgent smile. He turned back to the knights. "The rest of you." A paw across the hilt of his sword. "We leave at dawn."

Leon blinked. "Sire, to leave the Wood with so little preparation is-"

"Dangerous, I know." Leon fell silent. "But we are knights, Sir Leon. We do dangerous things because they are dangerous."

Leon gave a solemn nod. He was out of good reasons to ask to leave the Druids be. "If you say, sire."

"I do say. Prepare yourselves for the ride out tomorrow."

The knights bowed and excused themselves to make their own preparations. Elyan needed a moment to speak with his sister, so he and Percival lingered around the chamber a little longer. Meanwhile, Arthur kissed his wife and excused himself to his chambers. He had a battle strategy to devise.

---

Meanwhile, in the main meeting tent, the Inner Council gathered in a circle around a lively fire. Merlin was sandwiched between his husband and his wife, his father to Freya's left. The High Priestesses stuck together, as usual, sitting close enough to be mistaken for one creature. Alator and Anhora sat as stiffly and properly as usual. Mordred kneeled in front of a small desk, scribbling away on a leaf.

"Is everyone here?" Merlin asked.

Everyone scanned the circle. Ten creatures. Seems like the right number.

"It looks that way," Balinor told his son.

Merlin turned to the frantically scribbling marten. "Mordred, do you have-"

He looked up from the leaf. "Attendance is taken, everyone's here."

Merlin nodded to Mordred. "Thank you."

"Is everything alright, Merlin?" Morgana asked, black eyes peering at Merlin from beneath her silky golden fur. "It's not like you to call a meeting with such little notice."

Her sister crossed her arms. "We were busy getting the ceremony ready."

Merlin held up his paws appeasingly. Morgause relaxed slightly, but maintained the semblance of irritation. "I know. I know we're all very busy, especially you three, High Priestesses." The three bowed, acknowledging Merlin's contributions. "But, as you can see, Will has returned."

Will nodded. Freya smiled and gave her husband a small wave. Will had only had the time to tell her he was alive and uninjured before word came about the emergency council meeting. Will waved back. The rest of the circle stared at Merlin, needing a little bit more information.

"And," Merlin finished, "he has important information about Camelot Wood."

That got the creatures' attention. New information about Camelot Wood was definitely an important thing to hear about, especially from the most trusted scout. And Emrys's husband.

"What is it?" Anhora asked, impatient as usual.

"Camelot Wood seems to be preparing for an attack."

Will's voice was deathly serious. The circle froze, even the fire seemingly ceasing its crackling for a few moments.

"W-What makes you say that?" Nimueh snapped, trying to hide her worry with annoyance.

"The walls are heavily armed and they're sending out extra patrols to the Grove," the vole explained.

Morgana went completely stiff, the fur on her back bristling. Her ears perked up; she wasn't just scared, she was panicking. Her breathing quickened into short panting gasps. Black eyes stared into the distance, glazing over with the tell-tale sheen of a vision.

"Morgana?" Merlin prompted. "Do you have something to say?"

Morgana stammered a bit before her voice trailed off, eyes still staring into the fire. Morgause reached a paw to her sister's head and began to pet her fur. The sheen disappeared from her eyes before being replaced by the sheen of tears. Morgana swallowed, leaning into her sister's touch.

"I had a vision about this last night."

Morgause's fur bristled. Her ears perked, then pressed back against her head. She looked like she was torn between seething and comforting Morgana. Nimueh looked much the same, her ears remaining perked.

"Why didn't you tell me?" the elder High Priestess demanded.

"I didn't think it was important!" Morgana wailed, desperately. She took a deep breath and swallowed around the lump in her throat. "I see now that I was mistaken," she said, recovering herself.

"What did you see?" Merlin asked, politely yet firmly demanding.

"S-Steel on steel," she forced out. "Flashes of magic, dead creatures draped in red and moss." She swallowed again, wiping tears from her eyes. Her voice broke. "The Grove ablaze like so many pyres."

The circle fell silent again. That was almost definitely a bad sign. None of Morgana's visions had been wrong yet. She'd foreseen her own banishment, Mordred's escape to Merlin's camp, Freya's capture from Eire and transport to Avalon and beyond. Everything she had seen so far had come true and the Inner Council feared this one would be as well. Morgause began petting her sister again as Nimueh joined in, running her claws up and down Morgana's arm soothingly.

Merlin cleared his throat. "With that…" His voice faltered and gave out.

"I…" Morgana's voice did the same.

Balinor brushed his unkempt fur out of his face, the beads he tied in remembrance of those he had lost clicking together. He gave Morgana an indulgent look with a soft smile, a look that was normally more suited to Hunith when a child came to her with a scraped knee than Balinor to a High Priestess in a council meeting.

"Morgana," he said, low voice as fatherly and reassuring as possible, "I'm sure what you saw must have terrified you, but-"

"Do not father me, Lord Balinor!" Morgana snapped, rising from her seat. "I know what I saw! It was a vision and not a dream! I am not a child!"

Morgause switched from petting her sister's head to press down on her shoulder. "'Gana, sit down."

Morgana sank back to her seat. She cleared her throat, sniffed, and wiped her eyes. "I apologize for the disturbance."

Nimueh shook her head, staring at her fellow High Priestess. "Morgana, never apologize for doing the right thing." Her voice was calm, but firm and didn't allow disagreement. "You had to make your vision clear to us."

Morgana shook her head, pushing Morgause's paw off her shoulder. She took a deep breath, held it a few seconds, and released it. Balinor ran a paw through his fur again. Morgana's vision was far far too similar to what he remembered from the beginning of Uther's purge. Running and being killed for nothing but an imagined crime, pyres burning innocent creatures. He shook his head. It wouldn't do to be distracted. Merlin looked at Will.

"Will," he asked, "do you believe it is safe to attempt to hold our Midsummer festival in the Grove?"

Will shook his head. "I'll be honest with you, Merls, I don't know. It's our land, always has been, always will be. The land was given to us by the Triple Goddess for her children."

Anhora interrupted before Will could say anything further. "It is the most sacred land possible for our festivals, the best place for our prayers to be heard."

Merlin sighed. "Okay. We are going to try to hold the festival at the Grove. In light of Will's information and Morgana's vision…Freya?"

The mink's ears perked up as she looked at her husband.

"Our encampment is full of women, children, and the infirm," Merlin went on. "Could you, Freya, if necessary, evacuate the entire camp to the Lake?"

Freya swallowed and paused. It wasn't that she didn't know, it was that she wasn't sure. This question was complicated and required at least a few moments of thought. She stammered hopelessly, half-formed words and thoughts spilling from her lips before she thought better of herself. A deep breath gave her enough time to get her thoughts in order. A slow nod.

"Yes," was the first coherent word she managed. "I could. But it wouldn't be quick and I would need protection with me to hold off Camelot Wood's forces as I evacuate. I cannot fight off an army on my own, skilled as I may be."

"But it would be doable?"

Freya gave another slow nod. "Y-es. It would be doable." A glance to Merlin showed the conflict on her husband's face. A glance to her other husband showed Will had a very similar look. "Would you like me to start preparing?"

Merlin sighed. "I…I don't want you to, but we need it. Begin preparing an emergency evacuation. Prioritize those who cannot fight for themselves, the children, the sick."

Freya gave a shallow bow, as low as she was willing to give Merlin. "As you wish."

Merlin turned to Alator, the most important question still on his lips. "Alator, are we prepared for war?"

The weasel shook his head. "Not in the slightest, Emrys. We do not have enough creatures to support a defense against the forces of Camelot Wood. We will either be slaughtered without mercy or taken to the Wood to be burnt."

Well, that was…blunt. Merlin sighed heavily for what felt like the millionth time. "I was worried that was what you were going to say." Alator gave a slight bow. Merlin's eyes glittered in the way they always did when the stoat had a brilliant, but stupid, idea. "I need at least a few able-bodied creatures to join me. I want Will and Mordred at the very least."

"Where are you going?" Alator asked. Will was their best soldier; if anything was going to happen to him, the impromptu leader of their improvised army deserved to know.

"To see if the Grove is safe for the festival," Merlin replied, like it was a perfectly obvious conclusion.

"Why wasn't I told about this plan?" Will demanded.

"Because I didn't have it until right now!" Merlin snapped back.

Silence descended over the circle yet again. Will did deserve to know what Merlin was planning, but Emrys deserved some credit sometimes. No one else especially knew how to break up what was rapidly becoming a marital spat instead of a council meeting.

Another sigh. "I apologize," Merlin said, sincerely and with a bow of his head. "That was uncalled for."

Mordred blinked. This was a bizarre sight: Emrys, the High King of the Druids and prophesied warlock of Albion, apologizing for getting mad after a reasonable complaint from his husband about a suicide mission. The marten broke the awkward silence. "T-to keep things straight: Emrys, my lord, you are going to see the Grove, a contested and dangerous territory, on your own."

Well, it didn't sound that smart when put like that. Merlin shook his head.

"I will be taking at least a pawful of creatures to join me. That's what I wanted Will and yourself for."

Will rolled his eyes, apparently over the spat. "Of course you will."

"Frey," Merlin told his wife, "you're still meant to prepare evacuation routes, in the event we need them."

The mink snorted and whispered, "More likely by the minute." She still started thinking through the plans in her head anyway. The sick meant she had to take a shorter route, but the route had to be circuitous enough to lose the Wood's trackers…

"Father, any useful information from Kilgharrah?" Merlin realized what he'd said. That useless slow worm of a dragon never gave anything useful if it didn't directly benefit him. "Or riddles?"

Balinor shook his head, the beads rattling. "Nothing he hasn't already said a million times before. Destiny, the future of Albion is near, you and the Fox King are two sides of the same coin."

That's about what I was expecting, Merlin thought. What he said was "I don't know what else I expected to hear."

Balinor shrugged. "There's always hope he'll get bored of his own riddles one day."

"There's always hope," Merlin answered absently. He shook his head, hoping to latch the thoughts in place. He turned to the cluster of High Priestesses. "Aside from your vision, Morgana, how are the High Priestesses' parts of the ceremony going? Mordred told me you're taking the lead at Midsummer."

Morgana and Morgause didn't say anything. Morgause was still trying to calm Morgana down, the sable still shaking. Nimueh answered for the distraught sisters.

"Well enough, Emrys. We have our supplies and our ritual cleanse is proceeding as planned."

Merlin gave a small bow. "Thank you, Nimueh. If nobody has anything else to add?" No one said anything. The faster this council meeting ended, the better. "Good. You're free to leave. I…I think I need to be alone for a few minutes."

The majority of the council bowed and filed out: Anhora, Alator, the cluster of High Priestesses going to the purification fires, Mordred rolling up the leaves of the meeting. Freya and Will tucked themselves closer to their husband, Freya scritching Merlin's scalp with her claws. Balinor gave his son and his spouses the room they must have wanted.

"How are you, Merlin?" she asked, as gently as possible.

"Frey, Will…" Merlin took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for the conversation to follow. "I think I need a moment alone with my father." A smile for Freya. "If you wouldn't mind getting to work on those plans?"

Freya rolled her eyes, all too familiar with Merlin's need for approval. "I'll do just that, love." She nuzzled his nose. "Don't think too hard."

"I won't, promise." He reciprocated the nuzzle.

Freya smiled and got up to leave, practically dragging Will with her. The mink and vole left the tent, staring over their shoulders at the stoat as they left. It wasn't that they didn't trust Merlin, no, not in the slightest. It was that they knew their husband and his tendency for stupid ideas. Merlin turned to his father.

"Father."

"Son," Balinor answered, a smile playing at the corners of the elder stoat's lips.

Merlin took a deep breath. "I think I need to speak with Kilgharrah. Maybe he'll tell me something he hasn't told you." It was a longshot, but worth something, right?

Balinor rolled his eyes. "Your little one might be a better hope at information."

Merlin was completely and utterly confused. "She can't even speak yet," he pointed out.

"Exactly."

Merlin figured out what his father meant. Kilgharrah was absolutely hopeless, Aithusa only slightly less so. "I'm still going to try," he insisted. "Even if I know I won't get what I want."

Balinor smiled at his son. He'd missed a few of the early years of his son growing up, Uther's Purge forcing him away until Hunith had found the camp her love was leading. But he could assume that Merlin had always been like this: headstrong, impulsive, and deeply caring about all creatures. Balinor was honored to call this creature his son. He'd give the entire world to watch him happy. And, in this case, that meant going to speak to a lizard who valued riddles and crypticness more than just about anything else.

---

The Knights of the Round Table were gathered in the courtyard along with some other knights Leon had managed to rustle up and convince to help this mission. Their packs were packed, swords sheathed and at their hips, a few archers checking and rechecking their quivers. The knights stood next to their mounts, not certain what to do next.

"Creatures," the king announced, in a voice that made him sound much more certain than he actually was. "Are we ready to ride?"

The knights nodded, solemnly. That was about the one thing they were ready for.

"Everybody knows why we're going to the Grove?"

Gwaine stared straight forward, fiddling with the necklace tucked under his cape. "To investigate the Druids' activity."

"And stop whatever magic is happening," Lancelot added, mournfully.

Arthur nodded to the rabbit and vole. "That is what we are aiming for."

"At your command, my lord," Leon offered as second-in-command.

"Then I command."

---

Merlin, Will, Mordred, Mordred's intended Kara, and a select few other Druids who had volunteered for the potentially suicidal mission gathered on the edge of their camp. They stared at the path that would take them closer to Camelot Wood. To the place where creatures like them were killed.

"Sure you wanna do this, Merls?" Will asked his husband.

The stoat shook his head. "No, I really don't. But we have to, anyway." He turned to the marten on his left. "Mordred, are you prepared for your first mission?"

Mordred bowed. "Yes, my lord."

Merlin nodded, almost distracted. "Everybody knows why we're going to the Grove?"

"To prepare for the festival?" Mordred guessed.

"And stay out of trouble," Will added in a monotone.

Merlin nodded to the marten and vole. "That is all we are there for."

The Druids universally understood the emphasis. One goal and one goal only.

"At your command, my lord Emrys," Kara said, trying desperately not to sound like a terrified woman being led to her execution.

Merlin gave a wry smile. "Then we go."

---

The knights were hidden on the edge of Camelot Wood. Their mounts were tied a distance away, the knights moving on foot for better stealth. Their archers were already hidden in the trees with a clear view into the vast expanse of the Grove. The creatures still on the ground were checking and double-checking their weapons, nerves starting to get the better of the well-trained creatures.

"Gentlemen," Arthur whispered. "You know what to do. Signal if you see anything."

The knights whispered their acknowledgments before falling silent again, staring into the Grove. Nothing was moving. Absolutely nothing. Not even a stray leaf or misplaced blade of grass or light breeze.

Percival caught sight of a flash of blue, brown, and green moving in the trees across the Grove. Emrys's blue and brown, the green of his love and Druids. Percival sighed, knowing he was about to betray his people.

He gave the signal.

---

The Druids were hidden on the edge of the Forest. They were on the ground, staring into the vast expanse of the Grove. Will was checking and double-checking his daggers, the rest of the Druids trying desperately not to use their magic and reveal their place. These creatures were not trained for war, but this was a war most of them had been born into. The least they could do was give their life to finish it.

"Creatures," Merlin whispered. "If we see anything, so much as a hint of movement, you sound the alarm and flee to the Lake, do you understand me?"

The Druids silently nodded their assent.

"Don't be quiet about it," Will added in a low tone.

"Exactly what Will said," Merlin added in a harsh whisper. "Make yourself known."

The Druids fell silent again, staring into the Grove. Nothing was moving. Absolutely nothing. Not even a stray leaf or misplaced blade of grass or light breeze. Merlin gave a silent nod.

"I think it's safe to go," he whispered, taking a step towards the tree line.

A flash of red and a glint of gold caught Mordred's eye. The red of the blood of Druids and the gold of the dragon that sealed their fates. Mordred shot out a paw and whispered a soft spell. Merlin froze in the middle of his step. He turned, seeing Mordred's paw slowly fall to his side.

"Mordred?"

Mordred pointed into the Grove. "Look," he whispered, desperately. "Don't you see the crowd of redcapes?"

The Druids' gazes followed Mordred's outstretched paw. Merlin gasped.

"Oh, Triple Goddess protect us, Mordred's right. There are redcapes across the Grove."

---

Arthur nodded. "Thank you, Percival." He didn't turn to see the hedgehog's shoulders drop with the weight of his praise. The fox took a deep breath. "I want just the Round Table with me while I approach. Leon, flank the left. Lancelot, the right. Gwaine, I want you watching my back, Elyan, you in the middle. Percival, I want you around the edge near Lance. I'll take point. The rest of you, hide and approach only on my signal."

The Round Table went to follow their king's orders with practiced efficiency. The raccoon to the left, vole to the right, rabbit in the back. Mouse in the middle, hedgehog next to the vole. Fox leading the charge. The rest of the knights made themselves scarce, finding their perfect hiding space.

"All in place?" Arthur questioned.

"All in place, sire," Leon confirmed.

"Let's go. Stay in formation."

And on they marched, paws on their swords, eyes blazing with fury.

---

The Druids stiffened. Camelot Wood this close was never good.

"Good eyes, Mordred," Will whispered, proud of his little marten protege.

"Exactly," Merlin whispered, unsettled. "Good eyes."

"What do you want to do now, Emrys?" Mordred asked.

Merlin took a deep breath. "Mordred, if you would release me from your hold."

Mordred instantly released Merlin, the flash in his eyes barely perceptible. He ducked his head. "My apologies, Emrys."

Merlin shook his head, absent-mindedly fiddling with his neckerchief. "You did what you had to do. I'm grateful; you saved my life." The marten preened. Emrys had praised him! Merlin quickly thought out a strategy. "I want Mordred, Will, and Kara. The redcapes are going to bring more creature-power than us, but we have the blessing of the Triple Goddess on our side. The rest of you, I'd like you to stay in the tree line, but stay out of sight. You'll know when you're supposed to join in."

The creatures went to follow their leader's orders. Will, Mordred, and Kara formed a protective semicircle behind Merlin, the rest of the Druids disappearing into the trees of the Forest.

"You want to lead?" Will whispered to Merlin.

He nodded. "I want to lead." Merlin took a deep breath. "Let's go."

And on they marched, Will's paw on his daggers, magic at the Druids' fingertips, eyes blazing with fury.

---

The two groups marched into the Grove, eyes never straying from the others. Grips were tightened on weapons, small curls of gold sparked around paws. Eyes darted back and forth, not willing to let any part of the scene escape their fearful gaze. Silence fell over the already still Grove as the two sides reached the middle, staring each other down with looks that could kill.

The fox and stoat met eyes, only hate glowing behind them. Arthur brushed his cape off his shoulders, the blood-red fabric flowing in a barely-noticeable breeze, the gold dragon glinting mockingly. Merlin adjusted the knot of his neckerchief, blue bisecting the white of his belly; brushed imagined dirt off his jacket, brown covering the already brown fur of his back.

"Redcape," Merlin spit out. It sounded like a slur.

"Weasel," Arthur spit back in the same tone. The fox crossed his arms, removing the death-grip on his sword. "What is your kind doing here?"

Merlin mirrored Arthur's posture, more defensive but perfectly armed and capable. "I could ask you the same thing, fox."

"I am giving you one chance to leave the Grove peacefully." Arthur's tone brooked no disagreement.

Merlin quirked his head to the side. "What happens if we don't?" he asked, his tone pretending to be innocent, hiding the steel underneath.

"We slaughter all of your men without question."

Merlin smirked. "I think we'll take our chances then."

Arthur growled, a feral, angry sound. "This was your decision, weasel." He lifted a paw.

That was the signal.

The Round Table drew swords and attacked, blades slicing easily into the flesh of Merlin's creatures. The knights hidden in the tree line ran out, shields held up defensively. Arrows flew from the archers hidden in the trees.

"Creatures!" Merlin shouted.

Merlin's creatures ran out of the forest. Will drew his daggers. Flashes and glints of gold caught Merlin's eye in every direction. It was complete chaos. Knights flying across the Grove to land hard on the ground and not get up. Blood, blood, and more blood from every sort of creature, bird, mole, weasel, raccoon, mouse, any species either side could think to name. Silver swords painted red with innocent magical blood. Redcapes that only got more red. Arthur drew his sword and swung it straight towards Merlin's neck. Merlin stood his ground. A quick flash of gold passed over his eyes and the entire battle froze, creatures halted mid-step, mid-swing, mid-scream.

The knights and those of Camelot Wood fought against the hold. Magic had tainted them with its touch! The Druids, for their part, darted their eyes around, finding Emrys the sole creature still unfrozen. Clearly, Emrys must know what he was doing. They didn't bother fighting the hold. A wave of Merlin's paws and the Druids were unfrozen, some tottering forward with momentum.

"Druids," he commanded, eyes never leaving Arthur's. "I'd like you to retreat. Signal Freya. It's time."

"Understood," Will confirmed with a nod.

Merlin turned to his husband. "Send her my love and my apologies," he whispered, under his breath.

Will nodded again. "She's going to tear you to pieces," he replied, in the same tone.

"I know."

The Druids retreated, not willing to take their eyes off of the creatures of Camelot Wood, regardless of the fact they were frozen. The instant the Druids reached the tree line, they turned and fled, running for their lives. That was more or less what was happening.

Arthur continued to fight against the hold, trying to buck against the magical bonds. "What are you?" he snarled.

Merlin brushed his fur out of his eyes. "I am a stoat, as you can see," he answered, pretending to be oblivious. He fixed his jacket again.

Arthur was legitimately bewildered. His father had mentioned something about stoats and dragons and evil, a long time ago. "A stoat?" He stopped his useless fight. "I thought you were all dead."

"As you can see, we aren't," Merlin said with a smirk. "There are several of us. Our camp includes everyone, stoats, minks, sables-"

"Sables?" Arthur demanded, exactly like a man who was used to getting what he wanted without having to ask.

Merlin nodded, proudly. "Some of our most prized women." That was true, sables were seers and anything that let them know Camelot Wood planned to attack was helpful.

That also got Arthur properly mad. His ears pressed back against his skull and he bared his teeth. "You kidnapped my sister!" he screamed, teeth gnashing and jaw snapping.

"Not in the slightest," Merlin scoffed.

Arthur tried to charge at Merlin, straining against the hold of the magic still wrapped around all from Camelot Wood. "Morgana! Pendragon! Your kind kidnapped her from her bed in the middle of the night five years ago!"

Merlin, against his better judgment, smirked again. "Your sister is Morgana? She's one of my favorite advisors." A growl from the Fox King. "Good insights. Pity you didn't inherit her skill for negotiation." Arthur growled again, all teeth, and fought desperately against Merlin's hold. "As I was saying," Merlin continued as if the fox snarling in his face wasn't intimidating at all, "there are many of us. We remain hidden from your kind, fox."

Arthur's muscles rippled as if he was trying and failing to straighten his posture. "I am the King!"

Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes. "Sorry." His tone was entirely unapologetic. "We remain hidden from your kind, king fox."

Merlin took a few quick steps backwards, just enough that he was outside of the range of Arthur's sword if it should continue to swing. A wave of his paw and Arthur, and only Arthur, was unfrozen. The fox stumbled, trying to regain his balance, the momentum from his sword swing pulling him forward. He caught himself at the last second, standing straight like a royal should. He pointed his sword at Merlin's throat.

"You are going to regret this decision."

"Oh no. Whatever will I do."

Arthur raised his sword, charged towards Merlin, sword going for his throat. Another flash of gold. Arthur was paralyzed again. This time, Arthur saw the golden flash in the stoat's eyes. Magic! Sorcery! Evil!

"So it is as my father said." Arthur's voice was full of disbelief and something strangely similar to wonder. "The weasels do have magic."

"I am a stoat, not a weasel," Merlin answered, gesturing to his fur. "But yes. My kind does carry the blessing of magic."

"Traitor!" Spit flew from the fox's mouth, hitting the stoat on the cheek.

Merlin wiped his face and casually waved a paw. If Arthur happened to end up on his back with the wind knocked out of him, well, Merlin didn't disapprove. "How can I be a traitor against a king I don't recognize?" Merlin took a few steps closer, staring straight down at Arthur. "No, Your Majesty, I'll give you a simple choice: either your knights can leave your terms or on mine." Merlin crossed his arms. "And I think you'd prefer it to be on yours."

Arthur blinked, struggling against the invisible bonds. "That's a threat!" he growled.

"If you say so, my lord, it must have been," Merlin replied with as much sarcasm as he could infuse into his tone.

"Traitor!" Arthur repeated. "You are a traitor!"

Merlin smirked again. "Aside from not recognizing you, you are not my king. I am my king."

The fox's eyes narrowed. "So you are Emrys."

"As I've been told." Merlin took a few steps back, once again outside of sword range, but close enough to remain threatening. "Now, as I believe I already said, leave on your terms or on mine." A wave of his paw and Arthur was unfrozen again.

Arthur thought through his options. Kill the sorcerer! a voice that sounded like his father yelled. That wasn't exactly the best option available. The stoat in front of him had shown that he could protect himself and his creatures quite easily. That wasn't going to work. Say no was the next option. Arthur wasn't exactly ready to learn what Emrys's terms sounded like. That left leave willingly as his choice. He nodded.

"My men?"

Merlin waved another paw. The knights were freed, slowly sheathing their swords.

"Leave."

"Knights."

Arthur gave a paw signal: retreat. The knights complied with the order. They weren't scared-no, of course not, why would you think that?-they were…tactically retreating. Yes. That was right. Obeying their king's orders like good little knights. Their king, however, remained standing in front of the stoat.

"My creatures," said stoat remarked, "have already left me defenseless."

Arthur gave Merlin a distinct side-eye. "We both know that's not true." He'd proven it enough.

Merlin shrugged."As true as it needs to be for Camelot Wood standards."

That is an insult to the crown! Arthur took a deep breath to calm himself. Getting mad at the creature who held the lives of his knights in his paws was not a good idea. Another deep breath. A question.

"What is your kind doing on Camelot Wood territory? You know you aren't allowed."

"I could ask the same of you." Merlin gestured to the clearing around them. "This is the land of the Triple Goddess. They…aren't the most fond of you."

"And why is it that your heathen gods don't approve of me?"

Heathen, honestly. Merlin shrugged. "Systematically murdering all of her children might have contributed to it." They weren't the fondest of the Fox King regardless, but he was still, unfortunately, one of her children due to the ever-damned prophecies. Merlin changed his tact. "But I have a proposition."

"Oh?" Arthur asked. He was now genuinely intrigued. Any proposition a weasel would offer promised to be interesting.

"Two days. A peace talk. In Camelot Wood. All Druids are given mercy for as long as talks require." Merlin held out a paw. "Are those terms acceptable?"

Arthur hesitated for a few seconds. Option one: ignore this weasel's offer and move on with their lives. It would minimize the conflict for now, but not long-term. Option two: accept and see what the Druids wanted. Camelot Wood wouldn't be the fondest of that option, but a chance to talk things through and get to the bottom of the conflict over the Grove...

"Two days. A peace talk. In Camelot Wood. And you will have your mercy." Arthur took Merlin's forearm. "Those terms are acceptable."

The two grasped each other's forearms tightly. That was enough to seal their bonds. The Grove emptied, the two creatures leaving to where their sides had retreated to. They both had a lot of thinking to do in the next two days.

---

The day had come. A small crowd of Druids joined a small crowd of knights in the throne room of Camelot Wood's palace. The Druids were on edge, eyes darting back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, trying to find any form of threat, anything like the sneers, jeers, and weapons they were usually presented with in the Wood. They found it from the palace guard, of course, and some of the higher-ranking merchants, but not from the common people they passed, the servants, the farmers, the sellers just trying to get by. Those people almost seemed to welcome the small crowd of Druid into the Wood, acting polite and open to the clearly uncomfortable creatures. It was strange to say the least.

Merlin gave a shallow bob of his head to King Arthur. "Your Majesty."

Arthur nodded to Merlin. "Your Grace."

Merlin did his best not to bristle. It wouldn't do to start negotiations already upset with each other. But he was the High King of the Druids, addressed as Your Majesty and on equal footing with King Arthur, the Fox King of Camelot Wood. It's not an intentional slight, Merlin reassured himself. He's just doing the best he can. Merlin couldn't quite make himself believe that, but he had to pretend. He cleared his throat and gestured to the crowd of knights behind the king.

"I see we had similar plans."

Arthur made a similar gesture to the crowd of Druids behind Emrys. "There was no way for me to be certain of your intentions."

Merlin smirked. The fox had a point. "Nor I yours. But I believe this is a conversation better held in private."

Arthur scowled, arms crossed defensively and a little bit petulantly. "And take you at your word?" The day the Fox King trusts a weasel is the day Camelot Wood falls.

Merlin, for his part, shrugged. "As much as I would take you on yours."

The two stared at each other, at an impasse. A silent challenge sparked in their eyes, met by the other admirably. Both fox and stoat reached the same conclusion: there is no threat here.

"Agreed," Arthur finally relented, breaking the staring match. He turned to his knights. "We'll be fine on our own."

The knights bowed and left, leaving the fox the only representative of Camelot Wood. Merlin turned to the crowd of Druids accompanying him.

"Go about your business." He tapped the side of his head. "You'll know if I'm in need."

The Druids bowed and left, hoping to find someone friendly in the town to speak with or share a cup with.

"Shall we take this somewhere more private?" Arthur offered, mostly out of politeness. He had every intention of having this conversation just about anywhere that wasn't the throne room. Too many prying eyes and listening ears.

Merlin's mouth curved in a bizarre mix of smirk and smile. "I didn't think we were quite there yet."

A strangled sound escaped Arthur's normally composed throat. "I don't believe my wife would approve of what you are suggesting." One shouldn't start negotiations with innuendo went unsaid.

Merlin laughed, apparently completely at ease with the fox's reaction. "No," he laughed, "nor my spouses."

"Spouses?" Arthur had noticed the way Merlin talked to the one vole in the Grove, but he had multiple? It couldn't be the curly marten who practically walked on Merlin's heels. Maybe the lighter marten with the permanently suspicious eyes who seemed to be planning Arthur's murder from the instant she laid eyes on him.

Merlin nodded, a smile painted on his face. "My husband and wife."

The vole must be his husband then, Arthur assumed. But his wife. That left…the suspicious marten and any number of women he didn't know. Even worse, there's a chance Merlin's wife was Morgana. Arthur shook his head; he was not going to think about that. Arthur would rather think about anything other than his sister married to this…this weasel! Merlin smiled, brushing off all of Arthur's concerns. That isn't the smile someone would use to break the news that they were married to your sister. At least, Arthur hoped not.

"You said something about taking this conversation to a private area?" Merlin prompted, hoping to get the fox back into the room instead of wherever his thoughts had taken him.

A few minutes later, the two were sequestered in a small room that was probably initially a storage closet. A small room stuffed with a table and a few chairs, lit by sunlight and a few candles. Piles upon piles of leaves, bottles of ashy ink and bundles of cut feather pens. Definitely a storage room.

"Now that we're in private…" Arthur started, his voice trailing off before he could finish his thought.

"Yes?" Merlin asked, meeting Arthur's eyes as a challenge.

Arthur took a deep breath in and out. "What do you want?" he asked, reluctantly civil.

"We would like access to the Grove at the very least for our festivals and ceremonies," Merlin immediately responded, tone perfectly civil, like the stoat did this sort of negotiation all the time. "The Grove is territory blessed by the Triple Goddess. It is the most sacred area in the world for us and is important to our ceremonies." Arthur opened his mouth, desperate to get a word in, but Merlin just kept talking over him. "The Grove allows the Triple Goddess to communicate with our High Priests and Priestesses-which both myself and Morgana are part of-and make their wishes known to us and our people so that we may serve them better in the future. My people need the Grove."

Merlin paused to take a breath. Arthur took his chance. "What do these…ceremonies include?" the fox asked, eyes narrowing.

Merlin stared back. He knew exactly what the Fox King, son of Uther Pendragon, was suggesting, what lies he had been fed throughout his life. His jaw dropped before he managed to compose himself. "What do you believe they include?"

Arthur scoffed. "Blood rituals, creature sacrifice, burning offerings to heathen gods of destruction-"

Merlin froze. His face went stony. His fur bristled. He bared his teeth. He hissed, low, slow, and furious.

Arthur's ears pressed back against his head. His hackles raised, fur puffing. A sharp clicking noise rose from deep in Arthur's throat.

The two stood, ready to tear each other's throats out, civility be damned.

Merlin took a deep breath. He managed to civilize himself, fur smoothing out. He relaxed his jaw, still shaking with rage, but looking significantly calmer. He squared his shoulders. The glare stayed, teeth still bared towards Arthur's throat.

"Is that what you think of us?" Merlin spat, the air of civility lost with the first word. "That we sacrifice defenseless creatures-creatures the Druids are bound to protect-to heathen gods in hopes for the destruction of Camelot Wood?"

Arthur's hackles lowered, ears still pressed back. He squared his shoulders as well. He scoffed. "Are you going to tell me that assumption is incorrect?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, what do they include?"

Merlin took another deep breath. He brushed the fur beneath his jacket, forcing it down into submission. "Singing, dancing, days of meditative retreat, prayer, feasting, cleansing, blessing the land that she may give us a bountiful harvest in the summer. What you're suggesting is exactly what we aren't. We don't hurt anyone. Not even those from Camelot Wood who have come to us, fleeing your reign. All creatures are welcome with us."

Arthur's hackles rose again. This guest had the gall to insult Camelot Wood directly. To the face of the sovereign! That was treason, regardless of who the weasel's monarch was. "So we disagree," he hissed.

Merlin's fur bristled again. His back hunched, shoulders rising as he unconsciously made himself larger. His tail rose, going straight up his back. "You have been told lies, Arthur Pendragon." His tone was dangerously calm, the sort of calm that only comes before a storm.

Arthur's tail rose and went bushy. "Aside from your ceremonies, the Grove is territory of Camelot Wood that you were trespassing on. Every creature knows this."

Merlin glared at Arthur and did his best to keep his temper under control. Will had admonished him enough in the past. "Do you know how it came to be your territory? A massacre in the Grove. Hundreds of creatures. Dead. And do you know why? Because of your father. Your father and his…misguided fear of what is different. There were women and children, babes even." Tears started to prick at the back of the stoat's eyes. "They didn't fight. They ran. And their throats were slit while their backs were turned. While they fled from you. While they cried and screamed and begged for mercy that was never given." Merlin's voice broke. His fur relaxed; his shoulders dropped. His tail lowered. He was a broken stoat, ready to cry. "So if that is enough of a reason to want me destroyed, then do it, Arthur Pendragon. Slay me like you slaughtered my people."

Arthur stood, frozen not by magic but by shock. It was him. He took the Grove from the Druids. He murdered innocent women and children celebrating. He lost control of his men and caused the death of hundreds of innocents. He was the one to blame. Him. His hackles lowered. His ears flattened out to the side in surrender. His tail curled around his legs.

"Is that true?" he asked, quietly, voice about to break.

Merlin sniffed and wiped tears from his eyes furiously. "Yes," he squeaked. He cleared his throat. "Every single word. I would not lie to you about something so important."

Arthur needed to say something. His tail flicked, then curled around the other leg. "Be that as it may," he said, trying to sound like a king. All he managed was a tone eerily reminiscent of his father proclaiming the evils of sorcery. "I cannot, in good conscience, bequeath this land to someone I know to be a threat to the wellbeing of Camelot Wood."

Merlin's fur spiked again. All this, all my soul I bared to him, and we are still a threat? His back hunched, tail rose. He hissed.

Arthur took a step back without meaning to, crashing into a chair in his path. He wanted to hunch his shoulders, scrunch himself down into a smaller shape. He wanted to fit himself into a corner and apologize over and over and over again. But a king was large. A king was brave. A king didn't apologize for anything.

"Do you still believe that?" Merlin hissed, cutting eerily close to Arthur's thoughts. "Do you still believe that the Druids-my people, my friends, my children and parents and spouses and comrades-to be a threat to Camelot Wood?"

Arthur crossed his arms, forcing his shoulders to square to the furious stoat seething over him. "I saw you and your Druids attack us for no reason other than Camelot Wood attempting to prevent you from trespassing on our land."

Merlin tried to remember every lesson his mother had ever given him about his temper. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Nothing. Count to ten. One, two, three…nothing. Five things you can see: red, fox, treaties…nothing. The fragile threads of his temper snapped.

"You attacked us first!" he screeched. "The choices we were given were to be slaughtered while we ran-again-or be killed as we fought! At least one of those options gave us a chance to survive!"

Arthur made a clicking sound again. His jaws snapped. "And you use your heathen magic to protect yourselves."

"We used what we had as an option to protect ourselves as you tried to slaughter us. Forgive me for my attempts to save my people, as I believe you would as well, king." Arthur opened his mouth. Merlin hissed. "I need a moment apart from you to recollect my thoughts. If I am dismissed."

With that-without even waiting for a proper dismissal-the stoat turned on his heel and left.

And Arthur was left with only his thoughts for company.

---

Merlin found himself at the border of Camelot Wood and the Grove almost before he knew he was there. Arthur was just so infuriating! Merlin didn't know why he even offered to have peace talks with a creature who so clearly didn't want peace. He was about ready to tear his fur out in frustration.

Merlin didn't feel the eyes of the creatures of Camelot Wood on him as he ran. He didn't hear the whispers of the shopkeepers as 'another one of them' made their way out of the kingdom. He didn't see the gestures made behind his back, suggesting his death, torture, or other unsavory outcomes. He didn't notice the merchants and farmers being helped by his creatures, the Druids helping the farmers water their crops with portable rainstorms or trading for small goods like fabric or, in at least one case, a set of rings.

Merlin wandered the border, torn. The easy option would be to take five more steps, enter the Grove, and leave. Go back to the Forest or the Lake and live a life of fear in a Druid camp. The second choice was to turn back around, murder the Fox King, declare himself monarch, and create Albion that way. Merlin wasn't much fond of the idea of being in charge of more creatures. The third choice was to turn back and finish talks with Arthur. He was too upset to do that without a long break first. The fourth option, and the one he chose, was to walk the border and think.

So he walked. And walked. And walked. And ran face-first into a tent. Why is there a tent on the border? It was quickly built, a bit shaky and the posts barely beaten far enough into the ground to hold the poles straight. The tent was large, definitely able to hold at least forty creatures comfortably and many more less comfortably. Worth a look. Merlin pulled apart a tent flap and entered.

It was a field hospital. Dozens of creatures lay on cots, on beds of moss, on piles of leaves, on the ground, injured, bleeding, dying. Creatures wrapped in blood-red capes with glinting golden dragons, creatures tucked under green moss blankets and cloaks. Dead on both sides, injured on both sides, creatures given treatment on both sides. These were Camelot Wood's healers…healing Druids. The tension in Merlin's body melted. This was a place of healing and peace; there was no place for anger here. There were only two healers, treating any creature who needed it: a petite brown mouse with a lilac scarf over her head and apron embroidered with flowers tied around her waist and a horned owl with white feathers in a red vest, beaded chains and charms hanging from his neck. That's strange. He looks a lot like Uncle Gaius. I haven't seen him in years.

The owl turned his head and saw the lost-looking stoat. "You, boy," he barked, not unkindly, but definitely busy. "Are you injured?"

Merlin blinked. He shook his head. "N-no, sir."

The owl peered at the stoat with unblinking yellow eyes. Merlin stared back at the owl. The more he looked, the more certain this owl was… "Uncle Gaius?"

"Merlin?" the owl asked in the exact same tone.

The little stoat had changed so much from the last time Gaius had seen him. When Gaius last saw his nephew, he was a kit hanging off his mother's apron strings and begging to fly. He'd grown into a fine creature, still gawky and awkward, but composed and sure of himself. A leader, born and bred. The owl gave Merlin an indulgent look.

The mouse healer laid a cool cloth over the forehead of the fevered mouse she was tending to. He shuffled and gave a soft moan of relief before falling into a light doze. The mouse healer whispered a reassurance into his ear before joining the owl and stoat. She pushed her scarf back to its proper place and looked at the owl.

"You know him, Gaius?" she asked, wiping her paws on her apron.

Gaius nodded. "He is my nephew," he explained. "Not by blood, clearly. His mother was very close to me, practically my sister." Gaius paused for a few seconds. "My intended, I believe, lives in his camp of Druids." Merlin nodded; the only owl in his camp, Alice, often mentioned how she was meant to marry Gaius before Uther's Purge. Gaius turned to Merlin. "I haven't seen you since you were a kit begging to be lifted in your father's arms."

Merlin smiled. He remembered those days. It was nice, not having to be in charge of the camp by himself, having his father to help out. People didn't rely on him or worship the ground he walked on. It was nice. Merlin spread his arms, silently begging Gaius for a hug. Gaius accepted the offer, smiling down at the stoat who looked so much like the little kit he knew. Gaius wrapped his wings around Merlin, embracing him the way he embraced that little kit, leaning down to scritch at the top of Merlin's head with his beak. Merlin pressed himself closer, smiling into Gaius's chest, inhaling the scent of medicinal herbs that he associated with only Gaius and his mother.

Merlin pulled away after a minute. Gaius released Merlin from the circle of his wings. Merlin took a few steps back, still beaming at his owl uncle. Merlin looked so young like this. He turned to the mouse.

"And who is this lovely mouse?" Merlin asked, sounding like he was halfway to flirting.

Gaius turned to the mouse, silently asking her how she wanted him to answer. She laughed. "I am Guinevere, Queen of Camelot Wood."

Her smile was warm and genuine, a queen who truly wanted the best for her people. Merlin respected that. He swept into a deep bow. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty."

Guinevere laughed again. "Rise, Your Majesty."

Merlin straightened up. He adjusted the knot of his neckerchief and the shoulders of his jacket. "You know who I am?" Merlin asked, confused.

Guinevere smiled. "Well, Gaius calling you 'Merlin' was a little bit of a clue." Merlin ducked his head, trying to hide the blush rising in his cheeks. The Mouse Queen decided to try to save some of the stoat's dignity. "But, yes, he and my husband have told me about you. May I ask what brings you to our field hospital if you aren't injured?"

Merlin hesitated. He could tell the truth, but that didn't seem like the best idea. Telling the queen that the king had annoyed him so much he nearly bit the fox and ran away without waiting to be dismissed was probably not a good idea. The queen was polite and nice and lovely and he didn't want to be rude to her by implying that her husband was whatever the opposite of her was.

"The king and I…had a disagreement," Merlin eventually stuttered out.

Guinevere clucked her tongue. She'd been married long enough to know how her husband acted. "Was he insufferable again?" she asked, pulling a moss blanket over a Druid shivering with cold.

Merlin stammered helplessly. That was the truth, but it was also disrespectful. But saying no would be a lie…

The mouse shook her head. "You can be honest with me." She pushed her scarf again. "I know what my husband is like."

Merlin released a breath. "Yes."

"Are you here for refuge from him?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes."

Guinevere shook her head again. She brushed imaginary dirt off her paws on to her apron again before going back to the mouse she was tending to. His fur was about one or two shades darker than the queen's, but they looked similar enough that they could be related. Merlin didn't know much about mice, though; all mice might look that similar. Guinevere replaced the cloth on his forehead and murmured some shushing sounds into his ear. She began running her claws through the fur on his head, petting him and trying to lull him into a sense of relaxation.

Gaius moved to tend to a seriously injured raccoon. The raccoon was shivering, the sheet on the cot below his head faintly stained with blood. He wasn't shivering from the cold; he was shivering because he was near death. The raccoon moaned, clearly in pain. Gaius brushed him gently with his feathers, trying to calm the dying creature. The raccoon didn't settle, but he did fall silent.

Both Druids and knights being treated. It was remarkable. Dead, dying, and treated creatures wrapped in red and moss and being treated by those of Camelot Wood. He lost his voice for a few seconds.

"I…Are you caring for my creatures?" he eventually managed to force out.

Guinevere nodded, still seated next to the darker mouse. "Yes."

The raccoon was asleep-or unconscious, Merlin couldn't tell-and Gaius turned to Merlin. "The hospital is impartial. We treat both sides and allow them on their way." His unblinking yellow eyes stared what felt like straight into Merlin's soul. "Your creatures will not be kept after they are healed. They will be allowed to return, uninjured and unfollowed."

"Thank you," Merlin whispered.

Merlin scanned the creatures draped in moss. How many of his creatures were injured? How many dead? He saw one creature shivering with fever and bleeding from their arm. A tall marten with short cropped fur and prominent ears. Gilli. Merlin went over to their side. Gilli looked up at Merlin with eyes glassy from fever.

"M-My lord," Gilli stuttered. They tried to sit up, in an attempt to be respectful to their king.

"No," Merlin said firmly, pushing Gilli back to the blankets they were lying on. "Don't stress yourself." Gilli flopped back down, too exhausted to move. "May I heal you?"

"Yes, my lord." Gilli's voice was weak.

Merlin gave a gentle smile. He knew what Gilli must be feeling: they must be so weak, so exhausted, in so much pain. The least Merlin could do was do his best to help the creatures he swore to protect. He sank to the ground, cross-legged next to Gilli's head. "You will remember I'm not the best at healing."

Gilli managed a weak smile and something like a laugh. "Trust me, my lord," they quipped, the tone rather weakened by their exhaustion, "I don't need reminding of that."

Merlin laughed and Gilli seemed to relax. Gilli offered their sliced arm to Merlin. The gash went nearly from wrist to elbow and was already festering and bubbling with infection, a few smears of herbal pastes and soaked bandages stuck to his fur. No wonder they were in pain; the wound looked nasty and Merlin was in pain looking at it. He laid a gentle paw over the bandages, feeling the paste smear under his fingers. Guinevere and Gaius turned from their patients to watch what was happening. Gaius was familiar with magical healing, but hadn't had the chance to witness it in years. Guinevere, meanwhile, was seeing healing done without herbs and bandages for the first time in her life. She was fascinated.

Merlin gently eased the two sides of Gilli's arm towards each other, aligning the skin and sinew. He took a deep breath. "Ahluttre þu seocnes. Þurrhaele braed."

Merlin's eyes glowed gold as magic flowed into Gilli. He readjusted his grip as the marten's skin and muscle knitted itself back together, the paste and bandages shifting with the flesh. The infection fizzed and bubbled before fading altogether. Merlin removed the old bandages to reveal a perfectly healed wound, only a thin scar reminding anyone there was a wound to begin with. Gilli's breathing evened out and he stopped shivering. They melted into the blankets, muscles finally relaxed and pain-free. A sigh escaped their mouth. When Gilli opened their eyes to meet Merlin's, they were clear and blue as the ocean.

"Thank you, my lord Emrys, for your contribution." Gilli tried to sit again.

Merlin shook his head and pushed Gilli back down by the shoulders. "You know I would do it for anyone." Merlin stood, his paw staying on the marten's shoulder. "Rest now."

Gilli complied with that order, falling into a light doze almost immediately. Gaius was proud of the stoat. Healing was difficult, even harder to master. As much as the stoat would like to claim that he 'wasn't good at healing,' that was a perfect job of healing his creature's arm. Clearly, Alice and Hunith had taught him well. Guinevere stared. She was impressed. All her life, she'd only ever seen magic used for pain and heartbreak and death. She had never seen it bring life and health and help people. It was beautiful.

Merlin noticed the stares of the other two healers. His back arched defensively. "He…should be healed by the morning."

Gaius gave a single nod. "You've inherited the skills of both parents." The owl moved on to his next patient, leaving the stoat to face the Mouse Queen alone.

Merlin straightened, a small smile creeping onto his face. He felt good. He'd never had someone praise his magical abilities before. Most creatures either applauded anything Emrys ever did as a miracle or gave some answer along the lines of 'of course Emrys is capable of that' and moved on with their lives. No one, except Will and his parents, ever complimented him on his magical abilities. And now Uncle Gaius, the second best sorcerer he'd ever met-behind his father, of course-was proud of him. Merlin was practically glowing.

And then he realized Guinevere was still watching him. Of course she was still watching him. She must be terrified! What if she was planning to murder Merlin right there? Or turn him in to her husband for using magic on the territory of Camelot Wood? Or-or-or any number of other horrible things! His eyes went wide, almost as wide as Uncle Gaius's, staring straight at the mouse. He only hoped that, should she order his death, she would make it quick. The pyre was his one great fear.

Guinevere gave a soft smile. "That's a very kind thing you did for him."

"Them," Merlin immediately corrected. Guinevere raised an eyebrow, her ears perking up. Curious. That's good, curious means she doesn't want to kill me. "The-the Triple Goddess blessed them with a mind outside the options of male and female."

Guinevere gave a slight bow. "My apologies. A very kind thing you did for them."

Merlin did his best to shrug off the compliment, slowly relaxing as the queen didn't murder him. "I'd do the same for any of my creatures." The cool attitude would have worked better if he weren't still practically glowing with pride.

Guinevere gave a little giggle. "Then you are a very good king."

She turned back to the darker mouse, her smile falling immediately. She took a deep breath and let it out in a sound she would deny to the end of her life was a sob. Tears started to drip from her eyes as her breathing hitched. Her claws scritched through the mouse's fur, trying to soothe him like-Merlin noticed-a mother would soothe a child. The Mouse Queen looked much too young to have a son that age. Maybe mice aged differently? Merlin came over to join them, settling himself on the bed of moss the dying mouse was lying on, opposite the Mouse Queen.

The mouse on the bed was dying. There were no two ways about it. He was dying. A puncture straight through the meat of his shoulder, blood soaking into the moss. The Mouse Queen was crying in earnest now, the male mouse under her trying to whisper something into her ear. Or possibly trying to talk to her but couldn't force his voice above a whisper. The wound was desperately patched over with bandages, covered in poultices that weren't doing any good. The mouse gave a wet cough, followed by shaky breathing. Whatever the wound was, it went through his lungs.

"May I ask what happened to him?" Merlin asked quietly.

Guinevere paused in her scritching for a second. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her free paw. "He's my brother," she whispered. "He's my brother and one of Arthur's knights. O-One of the archers missed their target and…" She sobbed openly. Her brother reached for her face before wincing in pain. His arm fell back as Guinevere wiped her eyes again. "We're trying to make him comfortable. G-Gaius says he's tried all he can."

The queen broke down into tears properly. Her brother, the last shred of her family, was dying and she couldn't do anything! Her brother tried to reach for her face again, wincing as his shoulder moved. He kept up his litany of reassurances, each one quieter and weaker than the last. Merlin silently untied the neckerchief from his throat and handed it to the Mouse Queen.

Guinevere sniffed. "Thank you," she whispered. She delicately dabbed at her eyes, like a creature with royal breeding.

Merlin laid a paw on Guinevere's free paw. The queen looked up, her beautiful brown eyes ringed with red and glistening with tears. She dabbed at her eyes, the light blue fabric turning darker with each tear that fell.

"I can help him," Merlin whispered. "Heal him." Merlin looked down at the suffering mouse, then back up to his sister. "If you would allow me, Your Majesty."

Guinevere managed a sad smile and wiped at her eyes again. "If he will permit you." She tried to take a deep breath, but her breath caught halfway. "I…I beseech you, Your Majesty. Please save his life. I don't know what I'll do without him."

Merlin bowed to the Mouse Queen. He looked down as the mouse prince, shaking and whimpering in pain. Merlin laid a gentle paw on the dying prince's arm.

His eyes cracked open, brown irises glazed over with pain. "S-Sir?" His voice was weak, all his strength sapped.

"May I heal you, my lord?" Merlin asked, gently. This mouse was a prince and in pain. Both deserved the best treatment.

The mouse hesitated, clearly unsure. He looked at his sister. Guinevere's claws started raking through his fur again. She stopped and brushed her paw over his head, moving the cloth with each stroke. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the borrowed handkerchief again.

"It's alright, Elyan," she said, her voice full of tears. "I trust him."

"Even after Father, you…" Elyan's voice gave out.

"Absolutely."

Elyan looked over at the stoat, eyes glazed but blazing with determination. This mouse wants to live. "Do what you must," he consented, voice weak, but with the same determination. "If Gwenny says you're a good creature, I guess I have to trust her." He groped blindly for his sister's paw with his good arm. Guinevere grabbed it, holding tightly to his paw.

"May I touch you?" Merlin asked. Elyan nodded weakly. Merlin moved aside the poultices and removed the bandages. The wound was disgusting and fatal if not for magic. Merlin could nearly see the moss beneath Elyan through his body. He did his best to hide his disgust from the queen. "Wel cene hole."

Merlin's eyes glowed a brilliant gold, pulling magic from himself, the ground beneath him, the air around him. Some of the more conscious Druids felt the pull from Emrys and gave what they could. Guinevere watched in a bizarre mix of horror and relief as she watched the muscle reform, the fat and blood vessels fuse, and the skin knit back together. The blood on his fur dried, his eyes cleared. The only evidence left of the injury was a scar the size of the arrowhead, straight up and down on his shoulder. His breathing evened out as he melted under Guinevere's touch and on to the moss bed. The tension and pain dissolved out of his muscles as he collapsed. He groaned in relief.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, still trying to recover from the shock of healing.

Merlin bowed. "Think nothing of it, Your Highness. How could I refuse what the queen asked of me?"

Guinevere laughed. It wasn't her polite little court giggle; this laughter was halfway to hysteria, high-pitched and manic with relief. "Quite easily, Your Majesty. I am not your queen."

Merlin shook his head. "You are healing my creatures. The least I can do is return the favor." He laid a paw on Elyan's head. "Swefe nu."

His eyes flashed. Elyan's closed as he suddenly went still and silent. Guinevere froze and stared at Merlin, panic and hatred filling her gaze.

"What did you do?" she demanded in a broken whisper.

"Please relax, Your Majesty." Merlin spread his paws. "He's asleep. He will wake in a few hours, healed."

Guinevere relaxed, the tension vanishing in an instant. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes again. Another sob, sniff, dab at her eyes. She cleared her throat and held the now tear-stained neckerchief out to its owner.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Guinevere said.

"Think nothing of it," Merlin said, taking his neckerchief and retying it around his throat. "May I ask about your father?"

Guinevere sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the back of a paw. "He was executed for consorting with a sorcerer. He…" She sniffed. "He was a blacksmith. He didn't even know who he was helping, but that was enough for Uther."

Merlin nodded politely. "I understand. I'm very sorry for your loss." Guinevere shook her head. It wasn't his fault, she didn't need his condolences. "Morgana speaks of you in the highest regard. I see that praise is well-deserved. You are a very strong creature."

Guinevere accepted the compliment with what Merlin now knew were learned courtly manners. "Would you like to help heal more creatures?" Guinevere offered.

"Absolutely."

---

Arthur left the city. He was turning Merlin's words over and over in his head over and over and over again. He was the reason the Druids lost the Grove. He was the reason they lived every day in fear. He was the reason so many had lost their loved ones. As soon as Merlin had fled the palace, Arthur had dispatched some of his knights on a rather half-hearted search. Talks weren't technically over; the Druids had mercy in Camelot Wood until such time as talks formally concluded. If Merlin didn't want to be found, fine. He wouldn't be found, talks would formally conclude, and those Druids would be banished and escorted to the border.

So he walked. And walked. And walked. And ran face-first into a tent. He had a quick moment of confusion before realizing he had made it the entire way to Camelot Wood's border and must be at the temporary field hospital. He entered, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of his wife. Guinevere was just what he needed to cheer himself up. He entered the tent. He saw Gwen, feeding potions and smearing herbal salves to slightly wounded creatures. He saw Gaius, deftly bandaging wounds with mussed wings. And, unfortunately, he saw Merlin, touching creature upon creature, whispering, and those creatures falling unconscious, some even with smiles on their lips.

"Merlin," Arthur heard his wife call. Ah, there she is. She must make sense. "Can you take a look at Sir Leon, please?"

Sir Leon? Arthur scanned the tent again, this time focusing on the patients. There he was. A raccoon, lying unconscious on a cot, a blanket pulled up to his shoulders, blood soaking into the sheets, into the cot, spreading onto the floor. The raccoon was dying. Leon was dying. Arthur went over to the raccoon, to his knight, hoping to offer some sort of comfort in Leon's final moments.

Merlin made his way over to the raccoon as well. He was running through the injuries in his head and every healing spell he could think of. At least it wasn't a long list.

The two reached the injured knight of Camelot at the same time. They glared at each other over the unconscious body of Sir Leon. The dead or dying creatures were ignored in favor of glaring at each other, animosity overtaking everything.

"Why are you here?" Arthur demanded, voice more than tinged with hatred.

"I'm healing your men, Your Majesty." Merlin was polite, but not respectful. He turned to Gaius, who had appeared with Gwen while the two monarchs were locked in a staring contest. "What happened to him?"

"His skull was fractured," the owl explained. "He's comatose."

Merlin nodded. "One of my creatures-" He looked down at the raccoon. Oh no. "I probably caused it." Merlin laid a paw on Leon's head, where the damage was worse, where the blood was pooled.

"Get off of him!" Arthur growled.

"Your Majesty, please," Gaius pleaded, trying to talk sense into the fox without actually speaking up against his king.

"Arthur." Guinevere's voice was as calming as ever and Arthur lost the haze of rage immediately. "Let him heal Leon. He's been doing this all afternoon." She sniffed and Arthur noticed the tears still on his wife's face. "He healed Elyan for me."

Merlin bowed. "I swear to you, Your Majesty, I will not harm him."

Guinevere was a good judge of character and she would never trust someone with ill intentions with her baby brother. Arthur sighed. "Please heal Sir Leon."

Merlin took a deep breath, centering himself. This was a skull fracture and a coma, much more difficult to heal than a sword slice or arrow wound. Another deep breath. The most powerful spell he could think of. "Ic þe þurhhaele þin licsare mid þam sundorcraeftas þaere ealdaþ ae!"

His eyes glowed a brilliant gold-he glowed a brilliant gold-as his energy flowed from him into Leon, from the earth into Leon, from the air, from the water, from the Druids, from the Triple Goddess herself into this creature. He begged every single speck of magic in the entire world to save this creature. For himself. For Arthur. For Guinevere. For Camelot Wood, even. For all those who cared about him. The blood dried and reversed course into his head again. The deformed skull reformed, skin and fur knitting back together. Leon's eyes flew open as soon as Merlin stopped glowing, taking a great shuddering gasp of air. As soon as anything he could see made anything approaching sense, Leon noticed the crowd of concerned royals around him. Why are they here? What have I done? How have I disrespected them?

"Y-Your Majesties!" His voice was weak, but panicked. He tried desperately to sit up, body still too weak and betraying him.

"Stay down," Arthur ordered, pressing Leon's shoulders back onto the cot.

Leon cooperated. He was tired. He was dizzy. He was in pain. He didn't know what was happening and voiced as such, slurring his words a little more than he would like without the excuse of the tavern.

Merlin gave a deep bow. "I'm afraid I have to apologize to you, Sir Leon." Royal? Apologizing to me? Isn't this supposed to be the other way around? What in the nine hells happened? "I attacked you-although I do not know if it was intentional or not-and caused a skull fracture that could have killed you. That would have been a great loss to the world."

"But…" This apology didn't help Leon's head. In fact, all the thinking he had to do just made it throb more. A definitely-not-a-whine resulted.

Arthur took over for his concussed knight. "We were fighting against you," Arthur said, with all of Leon's confusion and none of his concussion. "You would have been well within your right to kill him. To kill any of us."

Merlin looked Arthur dead in the eyes and carefully enunciated each word, like he was speaking to a deaf creature or a child. "And it would have been a great loss to the world. No loss of life is to be celebrated, no matter the cause."

The Druids…are pacifists? Arthur ran through every interaction he'd ever had with Druids in his mind. Each of them made more and more sense. Running, healing those injured on the field, usually trying to harm as little as possible. The Druids are pacifists. They didn't want to attack Camelot Wood.

Leon, after being fussed over by Gaius, reluctantly fell asleep to let his mind heal. Arthur watched the raccoon fall asleep, his breathing even out into the deep rhythm of rest. He looked back at the stoat.

"Have you healed everyone in this field hospital?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head. "No. I've healed those closest to death, regardless of their side. If your queen would heal my creatures, I would heal yours. A house of healing should be neutral ground."

Arthur nodded. "I agree." Aside from just respecting the pacifist ideals of the Druids, Arthur respected this specific stoat. "I…" The Fox King cleared his throat. "I apologize for my words earlier. They were…injudicious, at best."

Merlin scoffed, paying no heed to propriety. "Try unbelievable."

Arthur gave a small smile. "Yes, that is also a good description. But, I'd like to put the option for negotiations back on the table. Provided you would like to speak again?"

Merlin hesitated. There was nothing he'd like more than to keep peace talks going. But with how well the first day went? He wasn't entirely sure he wanted a second day. He glanced over to the owl, asking his uncle-the closest thing he had to an advisor-for help. The owl nodded. The stoat looked back at the fox.

"Yes." He crossed his arms. "I have one condition, however."

Arthur waved his paw magnanimously. "Name it."

"The next round of talks will take place in my territory. If I had to risk my life for the first round of talks, I think I have the right to choose the venue for the second."

Arthur gave a short bark of laughter. "Absolutely. That is more than fair."

"Two days?"

"Two days."

The two grasped each other's forearms, sealing their bonds. Two days and a talk in the Forest.

---

The next night, Will rushed into Merlin's tent. There was a skeleton camp in the Forest, everyone too young, weak, or otherwise unable to fight were evacuated to the Lake, a temporary camp established there. Will had only gotten the barest explanation of what was happening. Merlin came back into Camelot Wood, told the Druids to go back to the Forest, and didn't say anything else. All Will had been told was the next round of peace talks was taking place tomorrow in the Forest. Will rushed in to see his husband sitting next to a happily burning fire, wrapped in his favorite quilt and sipping on a cup of tea.

Will took a seat next to his husband. Merlin immediately threw a corner of the quilt over his husband and poured a second cup of tea. He went to hand the tea off, but Will pushed it away. He untucked himself from the quilt and turned to face Merlin.

"Merls, you know I love you-"

"Yes, Will, I do." Merlin took a sip of his tea to steady himself. "But whenever you start a sentence like that, something stupid is going to come next." He sighed. "Just say what you want to."

Well, if that wasn't permission, Will didn't know what it was. "Why did you invite a fox-no, the fox-into the Forest? Our land?"

Merlin took a sip of his tea throughout Will's outburst. "Is the evacuation to the Lake complete?"

Will sighed and nodded. He dropped his tone. "Yes, and the temporary camp is established."

"Good. Is Freya back?"

"You can't avoid this conversation!"

Merlin immediately turned back to Will. He hadn't noticed how upset his husband was. "I'm sorry." Will scooted away from Merlin. He wanted more distance for this conversation. "Is Freya also concerned?"

Will nodded. "She had to stay at the Lake tonight."

"I can explain-"

"Please do," Will hissed.

Like removing a bandage. "I believe that King Arthur is not dangerous to us."

Will's eyes narrowed. "And why is that?"

"Because I used magic in front of him and he allowed it." Will fell uncharacteristically silent and crossed his arms. "I used magic on a knight-two of them actually-and he allowed it. I healed Gilli then two of his knights. In front of his queen and his physician. And King Arthur didn't reject his knights for the touch of magic. He didn't send away his queen and physician for allowing magic to heal his knights or not reporting me to him immediately. Instead, he listened to me and Queen Guinevere and Uncle Gaius-"

"Your Uncle Gaius, the owl?" Will dimly remembered a few stories involving an old owl, but all of those stories made it sound like he was dead.

Merlin nodded. "He's King Arthur's court physician. The king listened to us and allowed me to heal his First Knight and thanked me. He apologized. I think he even knows he led the massacre on the Grove."

That broke Will. "He led the massacre on the Grove?!"

"Will, please." Merlin reached out to his husband. "He's better than he was then. I have faith that he is better than his father. If you wish to disagree with me, you are welcome to. You are always welcome to. But I believe him."

Will took a deep breath, taking in his oddly-determined husband. Whatever Merlin was saying, he truly believed it. Will scooched over to Merlin. "I'll give him one more chance." He took the tea and covered himself in Merlin's quilt. "For you."

"Thank you, Will," Merlin said with a smile. He snuggled into the vole's side. "I love you."

Will snuggled into the stoat's side. "And I love you."

The two nuzzled noses and spent the night staring at the fire, snuggled into each other.

---

The Round Table was in Druid territory, on the border of the Forest. Percival was right at home, Elyan and Leon open to seeing more of the people who had saved their lives, the rest of the Round Table curious to see how the talks would pan out. The Inner Council of Merlin's camp met them at the border. The two owls, Gaius and Alice, caught sight of each other and nearly flew away at that moment. They resisted if only to make the talks go better. Arthur and Morgana also caught each other's eye. The siblings did a quick glance up and down, both uninjured, both healthy, both happy. Sibling check in could wait.

"I invite you in," Merlin announced. "Come in."

The Round Table passed over the threshold, feeling something warm wash over their bodies.

"What was that?" Leon asked.

"Protection wards," Merlin explained, walking deeper into the camp. "You would not have been allowed in unless I permitted you."

Arthur nodded slowly. "Like Camelot Wood's walls."

"Exactly." Merlin saw Alice out of the corner of his eye, her head turned almost the whole way around to watch Gaius. "Alice, you can go. I know you and Uncle Gaius probably want to talk."

Alice inclined her head before taking to the skies. A nod from Arthur and Gaius joined her in soaring away for a private talk. Merlin smiled after the couple before turning around to face the rest of the Round Table.

"Sir Elyan, Sir Leon. I trust you two are well."

Elyan smiled. "Perfect."

"I'm told we have you to thank for that?" Truth be told, Leon didn't really remember what happened that day. He remembered he was in pain, he was not in pain, he was confused, he was asleep. That was about it.

"Yes," Merlin answered. "I hope your people would do the same for me."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the delegation of Camelot Wood. That was not what would have happened. Camelot Wood's people would not have done the same. Sure, some of the people might have rendered aid-certainly Guinevere and Gaius were he taken to a field hospital-but not the knights. Not Arthur.

Merlin broke the awkward, shameful silence. "Percival. It's very good to see you again."

"It's an honor to return, Emrys." I suppose that's as good a way as any to announce my heritage.

To his credit, Arthur's only reaction was a slight 'hmm.' None of the other knights moved in the slightest. Percival smiled; it was good to be accepted.

"Your Majesty, I know you must want a moment with your sister, but we need to talk terms first."

"Absolutely," Arthur agreed, still looking at Morgana. "Where will we be discussing?"

---

The answer to that question turned out to be Merlin's private tent. Arthur tried his best not to be uncomfortable. The Druid Council acted as if treaty discussions in a bedroom were perfectly ordinary.

Merlin gestured to the crowd of Camelot Wood delegates. "You have your wife and most trusted knights."

"And may I know who is with you?" Arthur asked.

"My spouses-" Merlin indicated Will and Freya, a vole and a mink. "And part of my inner circle. Unless you'd prefer to negotiate in private?"

Arthur gave a small smile, one that could almost be interpreted as seductive. "We did begin this in private."

Merlin laughed and gave a shallow bow. "Very well. Frey, take Will and Mordred to the Lake." The mink and vole smiled, gave Merlin a peck on each cheek, and left, holding paws, a curly-furred marten following them. "Mother, Father-"

A mink with more than a few gray furs wearing a green scarf over her head with a matching skirt smiled at Merlin. Must be his mother. "We can make ourselves scarce for a few hours, dear." She leaned in to kiss her son's forehead.

"Mother!" he squawked.

His mother laughed and took the paw of another, taller stoat with unkempt fur and beads tied under his left ear. That must be his father.

The taller stoat leaned in. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do-" he started in a deep, gruff voice.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "And don't do anything you would, Father, I know."

His father ruffled the fur on the top of his head. "That's my boy." The stoat and mink left, leaving Merlin trying to fix his fur.

Arthur was confused. "Your parents are part of your inner circle?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes. I trust their opinions. Don't you?"

Arthur's face stiffened, ears pressing themselves flat back. "My mother died when I was born and my father died recently."

Merlin's tail flattened as his face softened. "I'm so sorry." He sounded genuine. "I didn't know about your father."

Arthur latched on to the missing part of the statement. If Merlin only mentioned he didn't know about Arthur's father… "But you knew about my mother?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes. One of our High Priestesses was asked to…" He paused, swallowing to stall for time. No. Arthur deserved the whole story. "To force your mother into pregnancy by your father. The Triple Goddess demanded a life for a life. It was your mother's life for yours and your father chose to make that sacrifice."

The back of Arthur's eyes pricked with tears as his ears flattened out to the side. "That's…that's not true!" he protested, with no real heat behind it. "It can't be."

Merlin could only give a small smile. "It is true. You can speak to that very High Priestess herself once we're done here." He turned to Morgana. "Morgana, if you would leave us alone?"

The High Priestess bowed to Merlin before looking straight at Arthur. She bowed to her brother. He bowed back. Morgana left, leaving Merlin completely alone.

"Your Majesty," Merlin gently prompted. "If you would dismiss your creatures?"

He sniffed and wiped away tears. "Of course. My apologies, I got distracted."

Arthur waved a paw and the knights disappeared. Guinevere gave Arthur a small peck on the cheek before going to find her former mistress. The two kings were alone.

"Were your wife and your sister friends?" Merlin asked. He'd heard Morgana trying to mindspeak to Gwen before she left.

Arthur nodded. "Guinevere was her pawmaiden before she married me."

"Oh, was she?" Merlin smiled. "Tale as old as time, I suppose. True love conquers all and love is a platform upon which all ranks meet and all that."

"And you?" Arthur said, with a smile as big as Merlin's. "A wife and a husband? Greedy."

Merlin laughed, a loud, boisterous noise. "Will was my best mate from before we had to flee from the redcapes-" Arthur flinched "-and I rescued Freya from a slave trader. The Triple Goddess united the three of us." His smile went from happy to wistful. "It was a beautiful ceremony. Apple blossoms rained as we gave our vows." The stoat looked straight into the fox's eyes. "There were no trees anywhere near us; Freya and I, our magic bonded and created the ceremony of her dreams, uniting her and Will and myself for the rest of our lives." The stoat came back from the reverie he'd wandered into. "The ceremony was in the Grove shortly after Midsummer, did you know that?"

Arthur shook his head. "I didn't know. It sounds like it was a lovely wedding." The stoat almost certainly had a point, but the fox could not for the life of him figure out what it was.

"The Grove is sacred ground. It amplified my magic just to make one woman happy on one day." Oh. That was Merlin's point. "Think of what it does when hundreds of creatures with magic are there to celebrate life, or the harvest, or a new child being named. We feel that we are blessed when we stand in the Grove. All creatures with magic do." Merlin took a deep breath and stared at Arthur. "And we can't go there without feeling like we are going to die. Going to be killed whether we fight or we run. We can't enjoy the Triple Goddess's blessings without feeling an overwhelming sense of fear. Please. This is all I'm asking for. Let the Druids have the Grove, I beg of you."

Arthur felt an overwhelming sense of dread rush over him. Merlin sounded so happy talking about his wedding; Arthur remembered his wedding perfectly, like it was yesterday. That happiness… It could only be better if you could feel your god blessing you… And Arthur took that away from so many Druids. He took a deep breath and gave Merlin his final decision.

"Your Majesty, Emrys, I am so sorry for everything your people have had to go through because of my family. I…" He cleared his throat. "I want to make amends. How can I do that?"

Merlin didn't even have to take a second to think. "Give the Druids back the Grove."

"I can't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because the people of Camelot Wood believe it is their land." Merlin hissed, teeth bared. Arthur tried to placate him. "A lifetime of belief isn't swayed without extraordinary evidence. The knights will continue to patrol regardless of what I order them to do." Merlin hissed again, his fur bristling. He was ready to protect his people. "But!" Merlin relaxed. "But. I can promise you that the Grove is neutral territory. As soon as I arrive back in Camelot Wood, I will issue a proclamation. The Grove is neutral territory, open for use for whoever happens to be there or wishes to be there in the future. You will be more than welcome to move your camp back to the Grove, should you wish, and you will be welcome to carry out every single ceremony you could ever wish to without being persecuted."

Merlin smiled and gave a deep bow. It didn't sound mocking, it felt respectful. "Thank you, Your Majesty. The wards of the Forest shall allow you, your queen, and your closest knights passage into the Forest whenever you wish. You've proven yourself Friends of the Forest. And that isn't a title that comes lightly."

Arthur smiled back before giving just as deep a bow. It felt respectful. "Thank you, Your Majesty. In addition, I want to extend a formal apology on behalf of Camelot Wood. Druids will be allowed free passage in and out of Camelot Wood and the laws on magic will be reviewed and reworked."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. What brought about this sudden change?"

Arthur was shockingly honest. "You saved Sir Leon when he would have killed you where you stood. You knew we wouldn't have spared you if you were injured in the fight, and you saved my knight's life for no reason other than it was the right thing to do. Thank you."

Merlin looked down. He couldn't look at Arthur right now. If he did, he'd just cry. So he stared at and addressed the ground. "I meant what I said: Sir Leon's death would have been a great loss to the world. I am honored to have saved him."

"And I'm sure he's very thankful as well."

Merlin smiled at the ground before quickly changing the subject. "You're welcome to come to our Midsummer festival, with your queen and inner circle of knights if you would like to attend."

Arthur smiled, an open, honest smile. "I think I would. Thank you. When is it?"

"Midsummer Day," Merlin explained. "Beginning at sunrise and going until the next sunrise."

Arthur nodded in acknowledgment. "We'll be there. It sounds like a good first step for the new relations between our tribes."

"It does," Merlin agreed.

The two fell into silence. It wasn't awkward; it was comfortable. Domestic almost. One of those silences that didn't need to be filled because everyone had said what they needed to say and the room was full of words and thoughts and emotions.

Merlin broke the comfortable silence. "Would you like to speak to your sister?"

Arthur nodded. "I would. But…I have something I need to tell you first."

---

Midsummer day. The day of the festival. Creatures from the Forest, the Lake, other Druid camps, and Camelot Wood gathered for what was shaping up to be a very good day. The morning had gone well and it was midday. Time for the big show. The creatures had formed a large empty circle around the burning bonfire Merlin and Morgana were now standing in front of. A pawful of other creatures were assembled in significant locations. Merlin glanced over to the nervous sable standing next to him, picking at her ceremonial robes.

"Ready for your first ceremony as High Priestess?" the stoat whispered.

Morgana shook her head, ceremonial beads clicking and jingling. "Not in the slightest," she whispered back.

"You'll do fine," Merlin tried to reassure.

Morgana just shook her head again before she managed to pull on a brave face. Emrys, any moment.

Merlin heard the mindspeak clamor and smiled to himself. "By the power of the land within and without," he called, projecting his voice across the entire Grove, "by all that is Fair and Free, we welcome you to this Ritual of Solstice in the blessed Grove."

"We have come from East and West, North and South to be here together today," Morgause said in the same tone, from her place at the western point of the empty circle.

Morgana hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't want to join the celebration, but she was nervous. It was her first time having to lead such a celebration. The nerves were getting to her. Her eyes darted over to her sister in the west. Morgause gave a reassuring smile and a 'calm down' gesture with her paws. Morgana smiled back and took a deep breath.

"Let us take three deep breaths," Morgana announced, proud that she hid the shaking in her voice. "Together with the Earth beneath us." A deep breath from every creature. "Together with the Sky above us." A deep breath. "Together with the Sea around us." A deep breath.

"With the blessings of Earth, Sea, and Sky," the deep growl of Balinor's voice rang out, "may our ceremony begin!"

Morgana visibly relaxed, the tension melting out of her form. The sable was much more comfortable now and it looked like the embroidery on her ceremonial robes might survive Midsummer now. Merlin gave her a reassuring wink before continuing.

"O Triple Goddess," the stoat intoned, "we greet you, and honor you, and ask your blessings."

"Let us begin by giving peace to the quarters, for without peace can no work be." Morgana made a diagonal line for the north, standing next to Balinor. "May there be Peace in the North." The two laid foreheads against each other briefly before Morgana crossed the circle, sidestepping the bonfire, to the south. "May there be Peace in the South." She laid her forehead against Alator and crossed to the east, next to Mordred. "May there be Peace in the East." They touched foreheads and Morgana crossed the circle, again avoiding the bonfire, to the west, with her sister. "May there be Peace in the West." She and Morgause touched foreheads, Morgause giving her sister a little paw squeeze. Morgana moved back, next to Merlin, in front of the bonfire. "May there be Peace throughout the whole world."

"Let all disturbing thoughts be laid aside." Merlin started pacing around the circle's outer edge, casting protective wards and spells.

While he walked, Morgana spoke. "The circle of our horizons-of our lives and lands, of time and of the year, of seasons and goodness, of birth and growing, of dying and rebirth…" She smiled, teeth and eyes shining. "We stand together in the eye of the Sun here and now, between past and future."

Merlin finished the circle of wards and moved back to the center, next to Morgana. "Now let us consecrate this circle with Water and with Fire."

Freya emerged from the crowd of Druids, a leather bag with small perforations in her paw. "May our circle be blessed with the Element of Water." The mink started to trace her husband's circle of wards, sacred water from the Lake sprinkling from her bag as she walked.

When she was halfway around the circle, passing Morgause in the West, Nimueh, the final High Priestess, emerged from her place in the crowd, a golden bowl hanging from a chain in her paw. "May our circle be blessed with the Element of Fire." Nimueh followed the same steps as Freya, swinging the burner with each step, sweet smoke curling into the air.

The two rejoined the crowd after completing their circle. The circle was blessed. The Druids and those sensitive to magic felt the harmony of all things around them. The air, grass, water, smoke, wood, moss, creatures all sang with the same energy.

"We gather," Merlin intoned, "as equals upon this earth. Each Presence is a blessing and with every breath we take, we breathe life and light into this circle."

"Let the four directions be honored, and let the gateways of the Quarters be opened, that power and radiance might enter our circle for the good of all beings." Morgana was feeling much more confident in her role as High Priestess now. Maybe the Triple Goddess was shining down on her.

"With the blessing of pure air, we call upon the powers of the East," Mordred called. A slight breeze blew through the Grove.

"With the blessing of the inner fire of the sun, we call upon the powers of the South," Alator proclaimed. The bonfire blazed up with his words.

"With the blessing of the sacred waters of the Lake, we call upon the powers of the West," Morgause announced. The dew seemed to rise from the ground in sympathy.

"With the blessing of the deep and fruitful earth, we call upon the powers of the North," Balinor said. The earth seemed to rumble in agreement, warming under the feet of the assembled creatures.

"May the harmony of our circle be complete!" all creatures, ceremonial and not, shouted. Those of Camelot Wood felt a strange influence-possibly the mindspeak and magic of so many combined Druids-and seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it. Or they just had very good intuition. Either way, they felt included in the ceremony.

Merlin's voice turned solemn, but not sad. "We are gathered at this Place of Light, in the eye of the sun, to celebrate the Summer Solstice."

Alator, standing in the south, announced "I proclaim the time of highest light!"

"Greetings to you," Merlin said, switching back to a joyful tone, "Sun of the Seasons, as you travel the skies on high with your strong step on the wing of the heights. You are the happy mother of the stars. You sink down in the perilous ocean without harm and without hurt. You rise upon the quiet wave like a young queen in flower."

The stoat flashed a smile towards the Mouse Queen, who smiled back shyly with a little wave. Despite being a queen, Guinevere wasn't a hundred percent confident being the center of attention. That was always more Morgana's preference.

"May the Ancient Wisdom of our heritage, that deep source of Eternal truth, held within our lands and our people, be warmed by the Inner light of the Sun, whose power on this day we acknowledge," Morgause said. Morgana knew her time to bless unions was approaching. Morgause continued. "Let us together, united by a bond of love, radiate peace and harmony into the world."

The assembled creatures took a few steps backwards, widening the circle around the bonfire.

"Now, let those step forward, one at a time, who would stand at the center of this sacred place, in the eye of the Sun, and within the circle of their companions," Merlin announced.

A parade of Druids began, all blessed by the High Priest and High Priestess present. Druids announcing the birth of their children and naming them with all present. Druids choosing to change their names after deciding their old one didn't fit who they wanted to be known as. Druids asking to change how people refer to them, those who were men asking to be known as women, those who were known as women asking to be called men, those who wanted to be called both or neither. Druids announcing the deaths of loved ones. Druids wanting to get married under the Triple Goddess on one of her celebrations. Even a few brave magic users or former Druids from Camelot Wood asked to be blessed or asking to be welcomed back, apologizing for what they had done. Those who asked were welcomed back without question; the Triple Goddess never turned her back on her children.

While this parade of blessings happened, a creature tapped Arthur on the shoulder. The fox whirled around. He found himself faced with a gray marten wearing a threadbare cloak, leaning on a staff made of an old branch and holding a gleaming sword. Arthur had to suppress the urge to jump away and bare his teeth at the armed Druid. Instead, he stood his ground and looked at the marten, not certain what he was meant to say.

The marten held the sword, hilt first, out towards Arthur. "You will need this," he whispered.

Arthur took the sword without bothering to ask any questions. The sword wasn't heavy. In fact, it seemed perfectly balanced, almost like it was made for him. The reason it was glowing, the fox decided, was probably magic. There was writing on the blade, but he couldn't quite read what it said. It seemed to float away whenever he tried to focus.

"What?" the Fox King whispered. "Why?"

"You will know what to do when the time comes," was the marten's cryptic answer before he forcibly spun Arthur around to face the circle.

The endless parade of blessings had ended. The vole, Merlin's husband-Will-had entered the circle, standing in front of his husband, holding what appeared to be a wreath of twigs.

"At this crown of the year," Will said, "at the center of this ancient land, I hail the King of Trees." He lifted up the crown, raising it to the height of his head. "I praise the Oak, the lover of lightning, the giver of shade at noon. I unite your life with this circle."

Arthur felt the strange pull from before, the external force that seemed to command his motions. He stepped into the circle, holding the sword vertically, blade glinting in the sun. The ceremonial words seemed to echo in his mind-Anhora's mindspeak?

"At this time of highest light-"

He raised the sword, blade at eye level. Merlin and Will shared an almost terrified look. Anhora was meant to be Sword Bearer, not the Fox King of Camelot. Will shook his head. Not my idea. You? Merlin shook his head. Not my idea either. Merlin scanned the crowd until he found the cloaked marten. Anhora? The marten nodded once and gestured his chin to the crowd of creatures. They were taking it as a union between the Druids and Camelot Wood. Merlin relaxed: a mutiny was not on his paws. Anhora's doing. Will rolled his eyes, but didn't give any other sign of displeasure.

Arthur continued. "I raise this blade that was born in fire as a bridge between heaven and earth."

Will lowered the crown onto the blade, keeping his grip the whole time. Arthur bowed to Will. Will bowed to Arthur. The two paced around the circle, holding crown and sword together. The creatures bowed to the pair as they passed. Finishing their circle, they lowered the sword and crown, still connected, to the ground between Merlin and Morgana. The High Priest and High Priestess bowed. The Fox King and vole parted, returning to their places. The sword lay glinting, the shining blade bisected by the black boughs surrounding it.

"May the Sun shine within our hearts," Morgana proclaimed, smiling. "May our voices be heard in the heavens! May the power of this moment inspire us, here at the rebirth of the light. May our lives and hearts be filled with joy!"

Merlin lowered his paw, the bonfire lowering with it. "Let it be relit in our hearts. May our memories hold what the eye and ear have gained."

All those with a part in the ceremony, Arthur included, spoke in unison. "Blessed be as blessed is."

The crowd echoed. "Blessed be as blessed is."

Merlin raised his paw and the bonfire blazed back in full force, signalling the end of the ritual. The creatures began milling about, but stayed close enough to hear Merlin's address as High King. The stoat smiled, fiddling with his ceremonial robes.

"And now, let us celebrate that which we must always celebrate, another year of survival and life! This year, we honor and invite those of Camelot Wood to partake in our festival." Merlin waved a paw towards those from Camelot Wood, in an awkward clump on the outskirts of the crowd. "Our past with them was not the best, as we all know. However, in recent days, our relationship has been mended. I believe His Majesty, King Arthur, has some words he'd like to say on this auspicious occasion."

Arthur was mortified. He had no idea he was supposed to give a speech! There was a reason he had a team of speechwriters. If he had to improvise, there was a good chance all that he could say was gibberish. He stepped next to Merlin anyway and took a deep breath. Hopefully whatever that was will let me give a halfway decent speech.

"Creatures, this address must begin with a deep apology. Truly, honestly, and from the bottom of my heart, I apologize for my actions. It's my fault that the Druids lost the Grove in the first place and no one's fault but mine. My very first command of knights was a massacre of Druids, right here, in the Grove. I tried to order them to stop and they wouldn't. But that does not make things well. In fact, it…it might make them worse. Truly-" He abruptly dropped into a deep bow, tail curling around his legs. "I must apologize." The Druids shared looks, but didn't give off any overt animus. This is going surprisingly well. Arthur straightened and continued. "However, I am doing all I can to make amends. As of today, the Grove is not Camelot Wood's territory. The Grove belongs to the Druids, as it always has and always should have."

Merlin almost burst into tears and dropped dead on the spot. That wasn't what Arthur had promised. He'd agreed to make the Grove neutral territory, open to whoever wanted to use it and no attacks or battles within. But now to make it open to the Druids? That was a dream, one of those things that would be wonderful, but would never happen. Merlin waited with bated breath, hoping beyond hope that the speech wouldn't take a bad turn.

Arthur continued. "The Druids shall also be allowed free passage to and from Camelot Wood whenever they should want. The laws banning magic in Camelot Wood are also being reformed. Soon, magic shall be permitted throughout the kingdom!"

Every being sensitive to magic in the Grove fell to their knees. They all felt the tremor that ran through the magic of the area, like the Triple Goddess herself was weeping. Tears sprang from the eyes of more than one. They could feel something, the beginning of something. Maybe it was the Albion of the prophecies coming to pass?

Arthur saw this and decided to wrap his speech up quickly. "With that, I should like to leave you to enjoy your celebration, as I would like to with my wife."

A small laugh rippled through the crowd as Arthur left his spot immediately in front of the bonfire. The separation between 'ceremonial creature' and 'non-ceremonial creature' vanished as creatures started dancing, singing, and generally celebrating. The married ones were clinging to each other come hell or high water, among them Mordred and Kara, who had declared their vows not an hour earlier. There was food and alcohol (so that was where Gwaine went, Arthur had been wondering), and much merriment for everyone. A small crowd established itself, like a family, standing and watching the enjoyment. Arthur and Gwen were holding paws, content to just sway rather than join the energetic dancing. Morgana was close to Gwen, the sable resisting the urge to lay her head on the mouse's shoulder as she may have done in times past. Merlin clung to his husband and wife, also swaying, but not ready to join a dance yet. Merlin's parents held paws and stood behind the trio. There was time for dancing in the future, time for eating. Right now, they wanted to enjoy this little family gathering.

Merlin broke the comfortable semi-silence. "Your Majesty?"

Arthur turned to the stoat. "Your Majesty?"

"You're welcome to the sword." Merlin gestured to the sword still laying in front of the bonfire. "It is called Excalibur and, I believe, was forged for you. The finest sword we have."

The fox bowed. "Thank you. It felt right to hold."

Merlin nodded. "As it should, Once and Future King."

That turned out to be a bad idea to say. It seemed as if the phrase 'Once and Future King' summoned a slow worm, so much larger than any creature in the Grove, slithering towards the family gathering. The Druids ignored the dragon, having experienced this too many times before. Those from Camelot Wood however jumped, screamed, spilled drinks, or blamed it on too many glasses of mead and swore off drinking for the night. The slow worm arrived in front of the family. Arthur and Gwen froze, sharing looks with each other. Will, Freya, and Hunith just sighed and acknowledged they'd be ignored for a few moments. Merlin and Balinor rolled their eyes in unison. The two stoats played a quick hand game to decide who had to deal with him.

Merlin lost.

As he swore, the dragon straightened to look down into Merlin's face. "Ah, young warlock," he said, with a strange accent, golden eyes peering into Merlin's blue.

"Kilgharrah," the stoat said, crossing his arms.

Kilgharrah looked at the fox, who was doing his best not to react. "And young king," he said with a bow.

Arthur didn't say anything, either because he was panicking or because he was just stunned into silence.

"He's not the fondest of dragons," Merlin snapped. "What do you want?"

Kilgharrah bowed to Merlin. "To congratulate you on fulfilling your destiny."

"I haven't done that yet!" the stoat insisted, irritation temporarily overcome. "He's only reworking the laws, not repealing them."

Arthur dimly noticed that they were talking about him, but all his mind said was DRAGON DRAGON DRAGON KILL KILL KILL on a never-ending loop.

"I can see what you cannot," the dragon intoned. "And it is a step."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "So was Uther's death. I didn't see you congratulating me on the death of the king."

"You had nothing to do with that, young warlock."

"And I had nothing to do with this!" Merlin insisted, fur bristling with indignation.

"You, and you alone, changed the young king's mind about magic in the first place." The dragon gave something that could be interpreted as a smile. "You are to be congratulated."

Merlin sighed. Closer to a point than he's ever gotten before. "Thank you, then. Is there another reason you're here? That could have waited. Did you just want to shock King Arthur?"

The dragon's grin widened. "The two sides of the coin have finally been joined together. The dawn of-"

"Kilgharrah!" Balinor snapped.

"Please," Merlin pleaded. "Leave us alone?"

"How can I ignore the dawn of-"

"Kilgharrah!" Balinor snapped.

"Ithi!" Merlin roared at the same time.

"I know where I am not wanted," Kilgharrah said, with what would have been an upturned nose if he had a nose. Like he has a choice. The dragon slithered away to curl up in the fire, wrapping himself around a smaller, white form sleeping peacefully.

"What was that?" Arthur asked. He was a bizarre mix of shocked and confused.

Merlin waved a paw. "Don't worry about it; it's the same thing he always says."

Well, that was reassuring. "More to the point," Arthur asked, voice shaking. "Was that a dragon?"

"Mm-hmm." Merlin nodded. "My father and I are dragonlords. My sons will be dragonlords as well."

"Oh," Arthur said, now fully in shock. "Okay."

"That charming fellow you just met is Kilgharrah." The sarcasm was palpable. "He's Father's dragon-"

Balinor quickly interrupted. "As much as dragons belong to anyone."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I was getting there, Father." He turned back to Arthur. "He always talks about destiny and the future of Albion and that you and I are 'two sides of the same coin' and 'a half cannot hate that which truly makes it whole'" He made a mocking impression of Kilgharrah with a passable accent. The dragon glared at him from the fire. "It gets quite annoying," Merlin finished, glaring back.

All that came out of Arthur's mouth was "Oh."

"Besides," Merlin quipped. "Aithusa's cuter."

It was Balinor's turn to roll his eyes. He gently cuffed Merlin's head, causing the younger stoat to whip his head around. "You just say that because you hatched her," he scolded.

Merlin fully turned around to face his father. "No, I say that because look at that scaly bastard and then look at my baby girl. One of them is definitely cuter and it's the little one who can't quite shoot sparks yet."

The two kept bickering about dragons and which was cuter and how to deal with the riddles that apparently all dragons speak in. Arthur was lost. This was the first time he knew dragons were real and there were two of them and they spoke and they had personalities and-

Will turned to Arthur. "Hey." The tone he used strongly suggested that he had dealt with this dragon debate before.

Arthur saw the vole staring at him, still clinging to his mink wife. To be fair, Arthur was still clinging to his mouse wife, so he didn't have much room to judge. "Hello," Arthur said, with royally bred manners. He released Gwen's paw.

"You can call me Prince William of the Druids," Will said proudly. He let go of Freya's paw, putting a fist on his chest.

The two women started chatting and appeared to hit it off right away.

"You lookin' for a new knight?" Will asked, flashing his daggers.

"I'm sure I could be," Arthur answered, diplomatically.

"Well, me and Mordred, we're pretty skilled with swords. Mordred even has magic."

Arthur gave a loud, boisterous laugh. "I'll keep you two in mind."

---

This is also posted on AO3 if you'd like to read it there!