Arthur set out at Dawn with Leon and Elyan, two of his most trusted knights. He had decided a small party would be best, for the bandits would likely have informants, and three travelers were less conspicuous than the fleet of knights his father wanted to send with him. The two men were silent beside him, allowing Arthur to stew in his own thoughts. He didn't catch the worried glances his knights shared. They rode in the direction Arthur had taken more than a fortnight ago. As much as Arthur was worried Leon and Elyan would suspect his mistruth to his father upon seeing the site of his capture, he was also intent on ensuring another soul didn't find their fate at the slave trader's hands. The thought of these men infesting his kingdom disgusted Arthur. Uther allowed them to pass under the nose of the law because he saw other crimes as more important to put resources towards, and this had led to an influx of reports of disappearances. The only reason he demanded Arthur ride out to find and dispose of them was because Arthur's supposed capture caused him to look weak in the eyes of the court. How could his own son, the heir to the throne, and the best of the knights of Camelot be taken without retribution? No, Arthur knew he was only given this mission to save his father's reputation.

When they reached the creek, Arthur motioned for his men to dismount and follow him. On the embankment, Arthur saw his own tracks. They were barely distinguishable in the dirt and bracken after such a length of time, but the heels of his boots had dug hard into the Earth. Further along, there was the evidence of his struggle on the ground as well as scorch marks on the trees.

"My Lord… what happened here?" Elyan asked, stooping down to touch the burned flesh of one of the conifers. It was as though lightning had come up from the ground and then surged through the forest in a column.

"I'm sure the trader tried to remove evidence of his presence," Arthur said. He could see the prints of Freya's bare feet and Will's boots, and scuffed them with his own foot so they were unrecognizable from the other patches of dirt.

"Sire!" Leon called.

He pointed to another set of tracks leading away from the direction of the former Druid encampment. They grabbed their horses and walked alongside the tracks, keeping an eye out for trouble. They traversed the woods for well over an hour, following the tracks before they led over a slight incline and disappeared down a steep slope. The camp was well hidden in the trees, save for the billow of smoke rising from the fire in the center, over which Arthur and his men could smell roasting cattle. The voices that drifted up to them with the smoke were loud and gruff. As Arthur peered over the edge of the cliff face, he saw a caged caravan holding several people. The caravan was mostly full of young women, but Arthur could recognise a few men and children amongst the lot. They were all dirty, and most were bloody. Their feet were shackled, and their hands bound, save the children. Probably because they were more easily controlled than their older counterparts, as they'd be no match against their captors. The sight made Arthu's stomach roil, but he pushed the bile down. Elyan looked sick beside him, and Leon had paled when he caught sight of the children. As they continued to watch, a large man made his way out of one of the tents, and Arthur tensed. It was him.

"We wait for nightfall," Arthur whispered to his knights.

When the camp had gone quiet and only one man remained on guard by the fire, Arthur gave the signal. Elyan made his way quietly to the back side of the camp to keep the captives from giving them away, and to act as a second surprise once the fighting began. Arthur and Leon crouched low, using the darkness on the hill and the shadows that danced from the fire's flames to keep out of sight. The man by the fire was whistling jovially, his hand clasped around a cheap flagon. Arthur motioned for Leon to take the far left, taking cover behind the flap of a tent, while he moved off-center. The bright, whistled tune covered their footfalls, and Arthur had knocked the man upside the head with the butt of his sword before the man could finish. He laid the man quietly on the ground just as Leon from the shadow of the tent, motioning his intent to go within. Arthur surveyed the camp before giving a brief nod. There was a soft thud in the quiet night, but a snore from a neighboring tent followed it. No one was the wiser. Leon and Arthur picked the camp off one at a time as they slept, and not a single alarm was raised to their position. Once they were done, they dragged the bodies out of their beds and into the center of the encampment. It was then that Elyan broke the locks on the prisoners' cage and released them from their bindings. Arthur searched the slave traders' pockets for the keys to the shackles, and once they were truly freed, they shuffled out of the caravan, hugging each other and thanking the knights. Leon and Elyan began bringing the unconscious bodies of the slave traders to the caravan. They left the few dead at the edge of camp.

"Is everyone okay?" Arthur asked, approaching the former prisoners. He handed one of the children his waterskin, and the girl drank gratefully.

"Only thanks to you, my Lord," one of the young men said. "You saved us!"

"No thanks is necessary. Where are you from?"

"A few of us are from Greendswood, my Lord. Several more from Stonedown, others from the villlages along the Feorre Mountains. Lamia traveled with the traders the longest." The boy gestured to one of the older girls. "I was the most recent of us, captured only a few days ago. They intended to take us to the seller's block in two-days time."

Arthur nodded. "You're all welcome to travel with us to Camelot. You will be provided for there until we can return you to your homes. It's less than a day's journey, we start at dawn. Tonight, rest well. There are empty beds, food, and water."

The knights watched as they wearily made their way into a few tents. The child handed Arthur his water skin back, thanking him in a small voice before an older girl took her hand and led her to get food. Arthur watched them go before he felt a presence beside him.

"You are Prince Arthur of Camelot."

It wasn't a question. When Arthur looked to his side, the girl introduced as Lamia stared up at him. Arthur nodded. She continued to stare at him, almost as though she were calculating his next move. "My name is Lamia. I come from the village of Longstead."

"You are a long way from home, Lamia. How long ago did the slavers take you?"

"The slavers only hold auctions once a moon cycle. I have been with them since before the last time the moon was absent from the sky."

"It was full a fortnight ago, which means you've been living under their cruelty for quite some time. Your family must be worried sick. We'll get you home as quickly as we can, I promise you. I have to take these men," Arthur gestured at the caravan full of slave traders, "back to Camelot so they can hang for their crimes.I know it does very little, but there will be justice for what has been done to you all."

Lamia shook her head. "I would take my revenge over your justice, but no matter. I shall not be going to Camelot. I will leave tomorrow on my own."

It was Arthur's turn to stare, and he did so incredulously. "You have no provisions and no map. How do you expect to make it home? At least let us return to the city so that you might be successful."

"No!" Lamia said. The firmness in her voice was startling, but Arthur couldn't understand why she was so reluctant to accompany them to the safety of Camelot.

"Lamia, is there something you aren't telling me?" he asked, whispering so as to not be overheard by Leon and Elyan. "Are you in another kind of trouble? I promise you, you'll be safe with us."

She shook her head and without uttering a word, she pulled the shoulder of her tattered dress away to reveal a tattoo. The lines of black were stark against her milky skin, and the swirls followed the subtle shapes of her breast, so that the two sides made to curl around it while the last side pointed to the sky. Arthur's eyes widened as he took in the large triskelion that was marked above her beating heart. He had seen it before, for his friend Mordrid held the symbol on his chest as well.

"You're a druid," he said, mostly to himself.

Lamia righted her dress, nodding. "Camelot would be my death. Please, Arthur Pendragon, let me go. I mean no harm to anyone, we are a peaceful people!" Her last sentence ended on a sob, her emotions finally giving way. She curled her hands around her face as her shoulders shook with silent cries.

Arthur's heart broke. Normally the name Pendragon was met with anger from the druids, even his most recent run-in with them had begun with Freya intending to leave him for dead simply because he came from Camelot. Never before had Arthur witnessed the sheer amount of fear and pain his father instilled in the people, and he was once again reminded how savagely magic and its users had been hunted for over two decades. He couldn't fathom how scared Lamia was to show him her true identity, asking nothing more than to be let free after being enslaved for so long. To be rescued from the slave traders only to be met with knights from a kingdom that wanted her dead for the crime of being who she was must have felt like a final blow. The need to plead her case to Arthur, to ask for nothing but release with no provisions or knowledge of her whereabouts told him how desperate the young druid was. How could he abandon her when he knew the truth about her people?

"I know, Lamia," he laid a hand gently on her shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort. "I'm sorry. You must have been very frightened when you realized who I am, but I promise you, you will not come to harm at my hands, nor my father's if I can help it. You have done nothing wrong." She looked up at him in disbelief, the tears glistening in her eyes and making trails through the dirt on her cheeks. "I was lucky enough to be saved by druids and they were just as nervous as you, but they allowed me to stay. They took me in, they made me well again, and they showed me their way of life. You have nothing to fear from me."

Lamia continued to cry, and Arthur swept her into an embrace. He held her as she wept, muttering in her ear and brushing her hair with his fingers until her tears finally ceased. It was almost morning, the scent of dew hung in the air.

"Go, get some rest before sunrise. I shall be here."

She nodded, and made her way to one of the tents. Arthur went to sit by the fire. Elyan handed him a ration and Arthur ate it gratefully. They were silent as they kept watch over the night, and when the sun broke over the horizon, Arthur felt the tiredness in his bones. They roused the camp and Leon hooked the caravan up to some spare horses that had been tethered and grazing at the edge of camp. The men inside shouted obscenities until Leon threatened to run them through, though they were hardly silent after. Lamia came out with the littlest of the children, Celeste. Elyan scooped her up in his arms, the small girl still mostly asleep.

Arthur stood before Lamia and put a hand on her shoulder as he leaned down to whisper, "Find Emrys. His druid camp was only a ways east of here, and if you can find him, he may be able to help you."

She fixed him with her stare again, her mouth an 'o' of surprise. "You know Emrys?"

Arthur hesitated, unsure of what to tell the girl. His former captor's powers must be legendary among the druids if his name invoked awe from other druid clans. The mark that Lamia bore was from a certain sect of druids, whom Arthur had briefly met before. "In a manner of speaking," he finally settled on. "I know him well enough to be certain he'd help you if it's within his power. And I'm sure there's not much that isn't within his power."

Although the last statement was said mostly to himself, Lamia nodded in agreement. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, and her tone subdued, like she was sharing the most dangerous of secrets with Arthur. "He's the most powerful warlock to have ever lived. They say that he will bring the land of Albion to fruition, a land where magic is revered instead of its wielders living in secrecy. Not many have met him outside his own clan, for his destiny makes him a great danger to those who distrust magic, and his power frightens all who have bore witness to it."

"His power is great, and so is the love he has for his people. I hope to never cross paths with him as my enemy," Arthur stated honestly. A thought struck him. "Wait here,'' he said, then went to his horse's pack. He came back with a few rations, his waterskin, and the map Emrys had given him when he'd abandoned Arthur to his own destiny. He handed it to her, fighting the urge to tremble as they gave up the only piece of the imposing druid he had. "This will lead you to where I met Emrys, but he won't be there now. This is as much help as I have to offer, you'll have to find him on your own. Good luck, Lamia."

She took the page graciously. "Thank you, Arthur Pendragon. May the kindness you've shared be returned to you."

Arthur watched her go. Please, let her be safe. Let her find Emrys. And let him know I've returned one of his own to him with no harm.

"Sire?" Leon asked, coming beside Arthur and indicating the direction Lamia had left in. Arthur knew what he was asking.

"To come to Camelot was not her desire. I will not force the journey on any of them. Come," he turned to face his knight and smiled as warmly as he could bring himself to. "Let us return and deliver our success to my father."

Upon their return, the caravan of slave traders was taken to the cells by castle guards, and the group of former captives were taken immediately to spare serving quarters where they would be given water for washing, new clothes, and food. The castle staff were sympathetic to their plights and attended to them with all the time they could spare. Elyan and Leon offered their assistance as well, and seemed especially taken with their littlest guests. Celeste followed at the knight's heels whenever possible, and some of the older boys enjoyed hearing tales of Camelot's heroics and seeing the knight's swords. Arthur wished he could stay with them, but as soon as they were settled he was sent to report to the King. As soon as he entered the throne room, Uther sent everyone from the room and rounded on him. He had, it seemed, disappointed his father again.

"How dare you bring these criminals into my kingdom! You were to take care of them." The stone walls made Uther's voice boom in the emptiness of the expansive room.

"I am taking care of them, my lord. They will be punished for their crimes, but the people need to see that we are taking action against these groups. If the slave traders know we are actively upholding the law of Camelot, they will be far less brazen in their business. The people are afraid. By condemning these men for their crimes, we show them that Camelot won't stand idly by while its people are taken against their will and sold into slavery. "

"That is not your decision to make, Arthur. I want them removed from my castle."

Arthur felt his anger rise, boiling his blood with righteous fury. He thought of how his father would rather waste resources on tracking the whispers of magic, to wipe out an entire peaceful people, rather than face the violent crimes he allowed to go unchecked. Uther was hunting the monsters in his fantasies instead of the very real ones that preyed within his kingdom. The idea that their people should live in fear because their king was too busy chasing ghosts made Arthur's vision red. His anger swirled inside him, and he was tossed upon the familiar stormy sea trying to reason with his father, trying to help him see sense through his own haze of anger. Arthur didn't think, he simply spoke his frustration.

"We need to take a stance, father! If we don't protect our people, who will?"

Just as his father opened his mouth, his pale, scarred face blotched with fury, a knock on one of the side doors startled them both, dispelling some of the tension between them as they turned to look as Uther's ward stepped lightly into the room. Morgana floated across the floor to Uther's side and pecked his cheek with her red stained lips. She always did have impeccable timing as far as Arthur's scoldings were concerned.

"My Lord, we have some guests who I thought you might like to see. You've been so grey lately, I thought this might bring a smile to your face."

Morgana's presence always seemed to sooth Uther's wrath against his son, and Arthur was grateful for her, for she always stepped in when he needed it. Whereas all his son ever did was disappoint him, his daughter was the shining jewel in the King's crown. He never meant for Morgana to find out she was of his blood, but she was as cunning as she was intelligent. When she learned of her mother's affair, she immediately sought out Arthur. They kept their knowledge from their father and continued their relationship as it always had been - they had always been like siblings regardless of lineage.

Morgana moved away from their father and gestured to the door she'd entered from. "Come in," she said gently. "Don't be shy, come on."

Arthur smiled in surprise when the group of young children they'd rescued from the caravan shuffled in nervously. As soon as Celeste caught sight of him, she ran to him and threw her arms around his legs. She was the youngest of the children, no more than five years old and she barely stood above Arthur's hip. Arthur couldn't deny the soft spot he'd grown for her on their day-long journey back to Camelot, and he knew that Uther would be charmed by her as well, which was probably Morgana's plan all along. Arthur lifted her into his arms and presented her to his father.

Uther smiled, albeit somewhat disingenuously. "You must be those that were saved from the slave traders. I'm glad to see you all safely returned to Camelot, and soon, to your homes. If there is anything we can do to supply you for your stay or your journey home, it shall be granted."

The children curtsied and bowed clumsily, and something in Uther's face softened. It had been a long time since Morgana and Arthur had been so young. Turning to Arthur again, he asked more gently, "and who might this beautiful lady be?"

"King Uther Pendragon, I present to you the young lady Celeste," Arthur pretended to formally introduce her, bowing his head slightly and causing her to giggle. He let her down onto the floor again, and she curtsied before the king.

Uther smiled with a little more warmth when one of the boys presented him with a whittled trinket before Morgana escorted the children out. The men were silent in the wake of the clumsy but enthusiastic children. Neither knew quite how to approach the topic they'd been fighting over without so much anger between them,

"Father," Arthur finally started, "they are why I brought those men back. Who knows how many more like them have been left to their fates as a result of our negligence."

Uther was still quiet. Arthur wondered if he'd gotten through to his father at all, if he ever would.

"They shall all be executed by beheading. Have new blocks made and ready the executioner's ax. You will make the public decree in the morning." With that, his father sat on his throne and gestured Arthur's dismissal.

Arthur was glad to go.