At Morgana's insistence, Bo tried to exercise a little extra caution over the next few days, avoiding the castle's more secluded areas and never venturing out alone, but even though she and her closest confidants kept their eyes peeled, none of them saw a single sign of any monsters, assassins, or anything else that could remotely be considered a threat to her life. Three days after Morgana's nightmare, however, Bo did find herself facing a more mundane problem.

"I've just met with my closest advisers," Trick informed her. "They were very curious as to why I still haven't officially named you my heir."

As soon as those words hit her ears, Bo experienced a strange claustrophobic sensation, as if the room had suddenly gotten smaller and bars had appeared on the windows to hem her in, to cage her. "I thought we agreed not to do anything official for a while. I mean, I've still got a ton of catching up to do…" She fought to keep her voice steady, but even she could hear it faltering at the end.

"You've been here almost a month-"

"One month! You can't seriously think that's long enough to make up for the twenty-plus years of growing up royal I missed out on…or to wrap my head around taking on a job I never wanted in the first place and still don't think I'm up for…" Yes, her voice was definitely breaking now.

"I'm sorry, Bo," Trick said kindly. "I don't wish to place any undue pressure on you, but you must understand that such serious matters cannot be put off forever. There are still those who are angry over my implementation of the Blood Laws and oppose my reign, so my advisers believe securing the line of succession to be of the utmost importance…just in case. I've been stalling them by citing the same argument you just brought up regarding your lack of proper education, but they grow more insistent with each passing day."

"Because they're afraid somebody might come after you?" The feeling of something closing in on her that had hit Bo earlier intensified, though this time the fear that seemed to be crushing her chest wasn't for herself. Finding another familiar face in this wacky medieval era she had slowly learned to call home had been unexpected, but a very pleasant surprise, and the fact that it was her wise old mentor Trick was just icing on the cake – even if this regal version was sterner and more aloof than the friendly bartender she remembered, there was still something incredibly reassuring about his presence. It hadn't taken her long to start relying on him the same way she'd relied on his future self, especially now that she knew he was her grandfather, and the idea that he might be in danger, that someone might try to take him away from her just when she had found him again and they were finally building the relationship they should have had all along, as family…

Then she shoved that fear aside, replacing it with steely determination. "If anybody tries, they'll have to go through me first. After all those years I spent searching for my family, I'm not going to let some assassin snatch it away now that I've found you."

Trick blinked, looking surprised yet genuinely touched by her fierce declaration. "I appreciate that, Isabeau, but it's not your duty to take up arms in my defense. I just need you to understand that… I've tried to shield you from the pressures that go hand in hand with royal blood as much as I can, to let you remain happy and carefree as long as possible, but you must understand that there are limits to what even I can do."

"But you're the Blood King," Bo protested.

"Just because I have the ability to reshape the world according to my whims doesn't mean I should do so," Trick countered firmly. "The use of my power often comes with unintended consequences – Morgana is living proof of that. Then there are other considerations, such as ensuring that I don't use my gifts to undercut others' free will. Even when I wrote the Blood Laws in order to stop an endless cycle of bloodshed, I tried to craft a system in which each fae still had the freedom to choose the side that best represented their own values and beliefs, rather than forcing all of them to live as I do."

"What about the curse you put on Kilgharrah? Wiping out his entire species was pretty extreme, wasn't it?" Bo wasn't sure what made her fire this particular question at him, except that it was something she'd wondered about since Merlin and Morgana told her what Kilgharrah had shared about how he became the last dragon (albeit in the back of her mind, since there had always been more pressing matters demanding her attention), and now that she was arguing with Trick, it just popped out. Besides, she didn't want to hear what he was saying about how even his power had limits, didn't want to believe it was beyond his capability to rewrite any situation that wasn't to his liking, that he couldn't simply free her from her unwanted royal obligations with a few strokes of his pen.

"Extreme circumstances demand extreme responses. Have you had many encounters with underfae, Bo?"

"More than I'd like," she replied with a grimace at the memories his question called up. The best thing she could say about those encounters was that most of them had been mercifully brief; the worst by far was the troll who'd temporarily taken over Camelot, and even then, Bo hadn't been forced to spend too much time in the monster's company before she was able to plunge a sword through its gut, bringing its malodorous reign of terror to an end.

"I see from your reaction that you understand the problem; most underfae are little more than beasts, and even the more intelligent breeds are unable or unwilling to control their base instincts, which is why those of us who were blessed by the Goddess to be more than that have always sought to impose that control on them by restricting their movements. If they were allowed to roam unchecked, the chaos they would wreak and the toll their predations would exact not just on us, but on humans as well, would be unimaginable. Kilgharrah knew this, yet still he aided them in their uprising, and enticed the rest of his kind to join him in his folly."

"Well that was a major dick move," Bo said, frowning. She'd felt sorry for Kilgharrah when she first heard what Trick had done to him (as much as she could feel sorry for him after what he'd tried to do to Morgana, anyway), but now her sympathy was tempered by the realization that maybe his punishment, while still extreme, wasn't entirely undeserved. "I get why you were pissed."

"Indeed. Because of the dragons' involvement, the underfae rebellion was a much bloodier affair than it would have been otherwise, and many good people lost their lives quelling it…including several of my dearest friends," Trick added quietly. He paused to wipe at his eyes, which had become suspiciously shiny, then went on in a more collected tone. "In hindsight, however, I see that my anger at Kilgharrah's betrayal caused me to act rashly – the other dragons were undoubtedly foolish in following his lead so blindly, but perhaps they did not all deserve the terrible retribution I unleashed upon them, when Uther Pendragon became the unwitting instrument of my curse all these centuries later. I do regret that the race of dragons is all but gone from this world; they truly were magnificent creatures."

Bo nodded in agreement; as duplicitous and conniving as Kilgharrah could be, there was no denying that he was impressive.

"You see, then, why I must exercise the utmost caution in choosing when and how to use my gift," Trick continued. "As much as I wish I could grant you the freedom you crave, I can't risk unleashing that sort of power simply to let you avoid your responsibilities."

"So what you're saying is there's no way out," Bo summarized. "If I stay here, sooner or later I'll have to take the stupid crown."

Trick nodded gravely. "I fear leaving would do you no good either; now that the nobles know of your return and so many have seen your face, if you fled the safety of my house, they would seek to capture you and use you as a pawn for their own benefit. The truth of the matter is that you are far too valuable to be left alone. I'm sorry, Bo."

His voice was kind, gentle, and sincere – and that made it even worse in a way, because if he'd played the hard-assed parental authority figure, at least Bo could have gotten mad at him. As it was, she just felt like crying.

"Thanks, Trick. Can I go? I just need to…" She didn't bother finishing the sentence, because what she really needed was to escape the crushing feeling of entrapment that was crashing over her in waves, yet they had just established that escape was impossible. Thankfully, Trick didn't need her to articulate the panic that was clawing its way up her throat like bile, choking her; he simply nodded, and without further ado, Bo fled the room.

###

The corridor outside was wide and airy, but it didn't offer the sense of freedom Bo so desperately needed, with its elegant gothic windows on one side and rich tapestries on the other, depicting scenes whose inhabitants all seemed to be frowning disapprovingly at her – all the trappings of the luxurious life of a royal that she'd never really wanted except in her most far-fetched daydreams yet now found herself stuck with. A gilded cage, she thought as her heart beat frantically like the wings of a trapped bird. That's what this place is.

"Bo? What's wrong?" The voice belonged to Dyson, who had escorted her to her meeting with Trick at Morgana's request. Despite the total absence of any obvious danger three days after her vision, Morgana still hadn't relented on her new safety measures, and while Bo personally felt she was going a little overboard on the whole thing, she supposed that letting Dyson act as her bodyguard, which most people seemed to assume was his job anyway, was a small sacrifice to make for her girlfriend's peace of mind.

Right now, though, it wasn't protection she wanted from him. "Are you up for sparring? I really need to blow off some steam."

Thankfully he agreed, and they headed out to the training field with no delay, stopping only to grab a pair of swords; as Bo told him when he offered to wait for her to change, she was in no mood to worry about tearing up her pretty dresses. Once they were outside, she barely gave him a moment's warning before throwing herself into their sparring session with wild abandon, pouring her frustration and fears over the role that was being forced on her into every swing of her blade.

Dyson went along with it for a while, but after several minutes had passed he noticed there was something off about Bo's technique; she wasn't wielding the sword with her usual finesse but rather hacking and slashing at him with a single-minded ferocity that wasn't like her at all…almost as if she actually wanted to hurt him. That was when he stopped fighting in earnest and switched to merely deflecting her strikes while trying to talk her down. "Bo, what happened? Whatever's upset you, I'm sure we can work it out if you'll just talk to me-"

"I've heard enough talking for one day," Bo growled. Their swords clashed again, and this time she got in a blow close enough to the hilt to knock his weapon out of his hand. "I win."

"Yes, you won. Do you feel better?" Expecting his acknowledgment of her victory to be the end of it, Dyson bent to retrieve his sword, but Bo grabbed his arm.

"Usually, when people win, they get a prize."

"Sorry, I don't have anything for you."

"Oh, I think you do." She spun him around to face her, and he was surprised to see that her eyes were bright blue. "I worked up quite an appetite just now."

"Bo…" He was fairly certain she was joking – she had to be – although if she was, it wasn't funny. The subtle warning in his voice went unheeded, however; she pulled him closer, and he realized that, unfathomable as it seemed, she really did intend to take his chi whether he wanted her to or not. It was the look in her eyes that really worried him, though, because it was a look he'd only seen once before, in the fortress where they had first met…right before she sucked the life out of every single member of the band of outlaws who were holding them captive.

On that occasion, it had taken Lancelot knocking her out cold to bring her out of her altered mental state, but of course Lancelot wasn't here now, which meant it was up to Dyson. Calling on the strength of his wolf, he let her draw him in…then headbutted her with all his might.

Bo staggered back, losing her grip on him as her other hand flew up to clutch at her forehead. Dyson watched her warily, hoping the pain would have the sobering effect he'd intended rather than merely serving to further antagonize her; then, to his great relief, the sapphire glow faded from her eyes, and a look of horror crept over her face as she realized what she had done, or tried to do.

"Dyson? I'm so sorry – I don't know what got…into me…" Her voice trailed off just as her legs folded under her, and he rushed to catch her before she fell. She collapsed against him, and as he held her, he felt a strange heat radiating from her body, and her scent… It was mostly unchanged, but there was something new lurking underneath the familiar smell of her, something unpleasantly bitter, like kicking up a carpet of fallen golden leaves on the ground only to find that their undersides were all black and slimy with mold.

"I don't know what happened just now either," he said grimly, "but it feels like you have a fever. I'm taking you to the royal healer."

###

On their way to the infirmary, Dyson sent a passing servant to fetch Merlin and Morgana, who burst in just a minute or two after the healer finished her examination and excused herself. Finding Bo sitting on the patient's cot with a rather anxious expression on her face, they rushed to take up positions on either side of her and hold her hands.

"What happened, Bo?" Merlin asked worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"We were told you had suddenly taken ill," Morgana chimed in.

"We were sparring, and I think perhaps she got overheated," Dyson, who was leaning on the opposite wall with his arms crossed over his chest, informed her. "She fought well, but then she seemed to get lightheaded; when I went to help her, I noticed that she felt unusually warm."

"And the bruise on her forehead? Where did that come from?" Merlin demanded.

"I'm afraid that's my fault."

"No, it's not. I mean, he did it, but he had to," Bo tried to explain. "He's being too nice to me, leaving out the part where I got way too aggressive in our sparring match. I went after him like it was a real fight, and then after I won, I… I tried to feed on him," she confessed, hanging her head in shame. "I don't know what made me do it; I would never try to pull chi from a friend without their permission, but I just got so hungry all of a sudden…"

"You know that Merlin and I would understand if you had to take chi from someone else, if you really needed it when we weren't there, don't you?" Morgana told her, stroking the hand she was holding reassuringly.

"I wouldn't mind sharing my energy with you either, if circumstances called for it," Dyson added, "though I would appreciate it if you asked first."

Merlin, however, had a different concern. "But she shouldn't have been that hungry, should she?" He peered around her at Morgana. "She doesn't normally need to feed more than once a week, and she's been drawing small amounts of energy from us nearly every day."

"This didn't feel like normal hunger, though," Bo piped up as Morgana nodded thoughtfully. "There was something more intense about it, something darker, like I wanted to feed on Dyson specifically because I knew he didn't want me to…like I wanted to hurt him. Oh Goddess, what kind of a monster does that?" Pulling her hands free of theirs, she brought them up to cover her face. "What's wrong with me?!"

"Nothing that can't be remedied – yet."

All four of them looked up at this new voice, to see Trick entering the room.

"Trick?" Bo asked, frowning in confusion. "Where's the healer? Did she send you in to tell me her diagnosis? Oh no, that must mean it's really bad. It's never good when the doctor leaves after they finish poking and prodding you and then bring in loved ones to break the news."

"But he said it can be remedied," Morgana pointed out, fixing Trick with a stare filled with burning urgency. "Tell us what to do – whatever cure Bo needs, Merlin and I will find it, or create it, or-"

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple," Trick gently cut her off. "You may be able to help, all of you, but ultimately it will be up to Bo to save herself."

"Save myself?" Bo echoed. "From what?"

"It's called the Dawning – an ancient rite of passage every fae must undergo to mark their full maturation, a coming of age ceremony of sorts."

"That doesn't sound too scary, so why do I need saving?"

"The Dawning is meant to be a journey of self-discovery, of revelation, but it's also a test of character-"

"Test?" Bo interrupted, repeating his words once again. "As in the pass/fail kind?"

"Yes, it is possible to fail your Dawning."

A grim silence followed this ominous pronouncement, until it was broken by Merlin's soft voice asking the question that was on all their minds but none of them wanted to verbalize: "What happens to the ones who fail?"

"They…devolve," Trick answered after a brief hesitation. "They regress to a more primitive form, lose their higher intelligence and ability to control their appetites; in short, they become underfae."

With their conversation about the underfae's failed uprising still fresh in her mind, Bo felt ice trickle down her spine, but it was Morgana who let out a horrified gasp.

"It all makes sense now," she whispered. "My dream – the darkness I saw coming for you – I didn't understand what the vision was trying to tell me at first, because the darkness seemed to come from within you, but now the meaning is clear. Bo…I saw what you'll become if you fail."

She didn't elaborate on the details of her vision, but judging by her wide, terrified eyes and paper-white face, Bo guessed it wasn't a pretty picture. "That bad, huh?" the succubus asked with a weak chuckle, unsure whether she really wanted to know.

Morgana just shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly as if she thought she might throw up. "Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to pass this test, Bo," she whispered. She suddenly seized Bo's hands in both of hers, clutching them so hard that her nails dug into Bo's skin. "Promise me!"

"Okay, okay!" Bo exclaimed, trying not to wince. "I promise, whatever it takes. You don't think I want to devolve into an underfae, do you?"

"You won't have to navigate this trial alone," Trick assured her. "As soon as my healer informed me of your symptoms, I sent word to an old friend, a druid priestess whose spiritual guidance will no doubt prove invaluable. Many fae have sought her counsel as they prepared for their Dawnings, and all of them came through it successfully. In the meantime, there are potions which will curb your hunger and prevent further outbursts of aggression."

He opened the door and beckoned to the royal healer, who bustled in to administer the first dose of said potions, and Bo left the infirmary with an immense feeling of relief. While the challenge ahead of her was still daunting to say the least, at least she knew she wasn't going crazy or turning into a monster. …Not yet, anyway. Then she admonished herself not to let pessimism take over. After all, the whole point of a test is that you have a shot at passing, or it's not a test at all, it's a death sentence. I can beat this thing. Still, she would feel a lot better if she had some idea of what to expect.

"Hey Dyson, what can you tell me about this whole Dawning deal? I mean, you've probably watched some of your old packmates go through it, or even done it yourself, right?"

"No, I haven't had my Dawning yet. It isn't supposed to happen until after a fae's two-hundredth birthday, so I still have more than a century to go before I'll be eligible. But you… You're not even fifty yet, are you?"

"Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady how old she is?" Bo teased. "But no, so far I'm not any older than I look, although I guess that'll change soon enough."

Dyson nodded, his features falling into a troubled frown. "For a fae to experience the Dawning so early in life is unheard of. I don't understand why this is happening to you when you've had so little time to prepare."

"Sounds like a good question to ask Trick's friend when she arrives," Merlin suggested.

Dyson started to agree, but was interrupted by the arrival of his new girlfriend. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

"I didn't think we had plans today," the wolf replied, racking his brain for any social engagements that might have been preempted by Bo's pre-devolution episode, though he was fairly certain there were none.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you," Esperanza countered, her hands making their way to her hips. "Nothing wrong with that, is there? But when I asked our fellow guards if they'd seen you anywhere, Gabriel said he'd heard from a new recruit whose cousin's wife was dusting light fixtures in the southwest corridor that you were heading off somewhere with the princess…and that the two of you had your arms around each other." She arched her eyebrows in a rather pointed manner, as if to say she was looking forward to his explanation for this impropriety.

Dyson glanced at Bo, silently asking her what to say. After all, it wasn't his place to announce that her Dawning had begun.

Of course, Bo didn't know that such announcements were usually grand public affairs, especially among the nobility. "It was my fault, Esperanza. Dyson and I were sparring, and I almost passed out, so he was helping me get to the healer."

"Really?" Esperanza's dark eyes flickered toward Bo, concern reflected in their almost black depths…as well as a hint of doubt. "You seem fine now, your highness."

"Yeah, turns out it was just the first warning sign of this thing called the Dawning that I have to do."

"Your Dawning is approaching? Congratulations, princess. I wish you the best of luck."

Taking Dyson's arm, the fox-shifter then pulled him away; apparently she still wasn't thrilled about her man being seen in what looked like a compromising position with a succubus, Dawning or no.

"I hope I didn't get him in too much trouble," Bo remarked with a sympathetic cringe. "A minute ago I was feeling sorry for myself with this whole mysterious self-discovery quest that determines whether I devolve into a hideous monster hanging over my head, but I'll take that over a disgruntled girlfriend any day."

###

Trick did indeed announce the commencement of Bo's Dawning to his court the next day – which had the much-appreciated effect of causing even the most outspoken council members to back off on the subject of her royal duties and official status, since they understood that preparing for such an important rite of passage required her full attention – and she was introduced to her guide that very evening.

The druid priestess arrived with no fanfare whatsoever and wore the simple robes that seemed to be standard issue for all druids, yet Trick greeted her as respectfully as he would any noble, and with a good deal more warmth than he'd shown some of them.

"Elaine! What a joy it is to see you again."

"And you as well, Fitzpatrick. It gladdens my heart that this meeting takes place under more auspicious circumstances than our last."

"Indeed. The words you spoke at Isabeau's passing were a great comfort to me," Trick said with a slight hitch in his voice.

Elaine acknowledged his gratitude with a solemn nod. "She was a great friend to my people; her death was deeply mourned by all druids. I only wish Aife had accepted my invitation to visit the Isle of the Blessed so that my sisterhood could have helped her heal and find peace. I feared the last time I saw her that she was already taking the first steps down a dark path, and it grieved me sorely to learn that I was right."

"Yes; I did my best to reach her, but alas, I failed my daughter. Now I've asked you here in the hope that you can help another member of my family find her way as you once tried to help Aife. May I present my granddaughter Isabeau, or Bo, as she prefers to be addressed."

As he gestured toward her, Elaine's eyes followed, and she turned to approach Bo where she stood off to one side, watching the reunion with keen interest. Now that she was getting a closer look at the druid priestess, she found that she couldn't get a read on the woman's probable age; sometimes there seemed to be a trace of fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but if so, they were so fine that they disappeared in the right light, her hair was either white or a very light shade of platinum blonde, and her pale blue eyes were youthfully sharp while somehow managing to look old at the same time, as if they had seen a lot that their owner wished she could forget. The overall effect was one of timelessness and hard-won wisdom, and Bo felt her confidence in Trick's decision increase slightly – although she hadn't heard enough yet to determine whether Elaine really would be helpful as a spiritual guide in a mystical rite of passage, at least she looked the part.

Meanwhile, Elaine was scrutinizing Bo just as closely before delivering her own assessment: "You look a great deal like your grandmother, Bo. I hope you take after her in character as well as appearance." Then she turned her attention to Bo's lovers, who she had insisted should be allowed to accompany her to this meeting. Surprisingly, Trick had agreed without a fuss, merely saying in a somewhat enigmatic manner that he would be interested to see what the priestess made of them.

Her penetrating gaze came to rest on Morgana first as she said, "You likewise bear a remarkable resemblance to your mother, Vivienne. Yes, I knew her – she was one of my order's most promising students once, before she met Gorlois. Still, every glimpse of her that my scrying pool showed me afterward seemed to indicate that she was content with the path she chose. You, on the other hand… The fates laid a much darker path before you. In leaving Camelot, you have taken the first steps to avoid it, to chart a different course for yourself, but take care that you are not drawn back in. Further temptations may yet lie ahead."

Morgana was clearly unsettled by her warning, but Elaine had already moved on to Merlin. To him, she simply said, "It is an honor to meet you, Emrys."

"Wow, you really are famous with the magical crowd, huh? Is what Trick said about him true, that he's the most powerful sorcerer ever and that he's immortal? Or will be?" Bo demanded eagerly.

"One day, perhaps," Elaine answered calmly, looking slightly amused at Bo's excitement. "The time has not yet come for him to unlock his true power."

"In that case, let's focus on Bo. I'm not the one who's in danger of turning into an underfae," Merlin reminded her with a light nudge to her ribs and a pointed look.

"Yes, preventing Bo from devolving is definitely our first priority," Morgana agreed. "Tell us about the Dawning."

"Trick already outlined what it's about," Bo put in, "but he was kind of sketchy on actual details. He said it was a test, but I'm guessing it's not the kind where I get a Number Two pencil and a form with answer bubbles I have to make sure I fill in completely?"

"It is impossible to describe the Dawning in detail, because every fae who undergoes it experiences it differently. The final test takes place inside the Temple, a mystical realm which exists beyond time and space. It will only reveal itself to you after you have proven yourself worthy of entering by completing three tasks. Each task will test you in some way – your courage, your judgment, the quality of your spirit – but I cannot tell you what form they will take, nor what you will face if you succeed in entering the Temple. All I can say is that the Temple will test you in ways you cannot imagine, ways that will make your previous tasks seem as child's play, and the choices you make there will set the course for the rest of your life."

Bo opened her mouth to make a quip about how fortunate it was that she worked well under pressure, then shut it without saying a word. As badly as she wanted to say something irreverent, to quell her nerves by making light of the situation, something about Elaine's piercing, somber gaze made it impossible to think of a suitably flippant remark.

The priestess stared hard into her eyes for another moment, then, satisfied that she had impressed upon her new pupil the gravity of her situation, turned away. Released from the paralyzing hold of those fathomless eyes, Bo found that she could breathe a little easier.

"Get some rest, Isabeau," Elaine called over her shoulder as she took Trick's hand and allowed him to escort her off to the guest wing. "Your first task will be presented to you tomorrow."

So here we have the beginning of the next story arc for Bo and company, and as you can see, my version of the Dawning will be somewhat (read: very) different from the show's. The thing is, I liked the basic concept of a rite of passage that's supposed to teach Bo something about herself, but in some ways I felt that canon's execution of that idea didn't quite meet my expectations…but I won't go into a long rant about why that is unless anyone wants to know. Suffice to say, don't rewatch s3 in search of clues as to what will happen here.