Unbreakable
His son had barely been out of his arms since Anwen had placed him there several hours ago, and yet, Owain felt no more comfortable than he had. The boy was so small and delicate that he was afraid that even disturbing could be fatal.
"Is he beautiful?"
Owain smiled at his sleepy wife.
"I can't believe we made him."
"Speak for yourself, Owain," Anwen snorted. "I come from good stock of handsome people."
"Are you saying I am ugly?"
"Does he look like you?"
"He does."
"Then you are the handsomest of men to walk the land."
Owain narrowed his eyes at his grinning wife.
"How're you feeling?" he asked worriedly.
"Sore, tired, and if you even think of ever coming near me again, I might just cut it off."
"Back to yourself then," Owain quipped. "Would you like to hold him?"
Anwen nodded, and he carefully placed the boy in her arms.
"He really is beautiful," she whispered. "What shall we name him?"
"Aeron," Owain answered.
"Because it is similar to yours?"
"Because he looks like an Aeron."
"He does," Anwen agreed, frowning as a knocking sounded at the front door.
Owain held up a hand before leaving the room to answer it, frowning himself at the sight of Hook.
"What happened? Where's Harry?"
Hook shook his head.
"The place was destroyed when we arrived. Alec and his kin were slaughtered, but we found someone alive. Well, two people."
"Why do I get the feeling I won't like this?"
"I don't think you will," Hook sighed. "It was Gwyneth, Garth's daughter, and her bastard son."
"A bastard son?"
"Well, she's not married. We would've heard if she was."
"And I suppose Harry is bringing her here?"
Hook nodded.
"The boy was dead when we found him, and Harry saved him. If we would've left them, they wouldn't have made it."
"No woman should be left alone, especially with her son," Owain replied emotionally. "How long before they get here?"
Hook shrugged.
"I found them a pair of horses, so I expect they will make it back tomorrow if they ride quickly enough."
"Good," Owain sighed tiredly. "Bring them straight to me when they arrive. Most will not welcome her."
Garth had never shown any hostility towards those in Godric's Hollow or the surrounding areas, but he'd allied himself with Arthur too easily. To most here, he was an enemy, and his daughter considered quite the prisoner.
Not that Harry would allow that.
Despite the ferocity he fought with, he was a kind and caring man, and given his past, he would not see a woman and her son mistreated.
Woe betide any who made such an attempt.
It would end quite terribly for them.
(Break)
The keep was in ruins, and Myrddin could only shake his head as he navigated his way through the swathes of dead littering the courtyard. Had he known that Strenger was targeting Gwent, he would've put a stop to it.
Although King Alec had not conceded his throne to Arthur, the two were on amicable enough terms that a battle between them could've been avoidable. Now, however, no such thing would be necessary.
Myrddin did not know where Alec's fighting men were, but only a handful of guards had been left to fend off Strenger's force; nowhere near enough.
Not that their presence would've made much difference.
They may have been able to thin the numbers of the attackers, but little else.
Myrddin released a deep sigh as he took in the carnage around him.
Strenger's men had left little salvageable in their wake, and certainly none alive.
Myrddin abhorred senseless violence.
There was no reason for them to have destroyed the keep in such a way, and yet, Myrddin was left in no doubt as to why it had been done.
A message.
A message to Peverell that they were still a force to be reckoned with, and a message to Myrddin, an act of defiance within the boundaries of the agreement he'd made with Strenger.
The man had taken his instruction literally and had exploited it as much as he could.
Myrddin knew that using Strenger in such a way had been a risky undertaking, but despite what had been done here, he could not deny that his campaign across Wales had been a largely successful.
Nonetheless, it certainly served as a reminder that Strenger was not a true ally, that he cared not for Arthur's success and only served himself.
Perhaps it would indeed be best to be rid of him.
Before he could ponder what he would do, he peered up at the keep itself and frowned thoughtfully.
Despite being ignited with magical fire, the building had not burned entirely, and Myrddin entered, only to find more dead and destruction within the walls, though there was something else, a very faint sign of life.
Following it, he found himself in a large round room, and quickly located what would've been a hidden room.
"A woman and a child," he murmured, "and they had help escaping."
With a deep frown marring his features, he followed the trail once more until he was outside the castle and paused.
"No, they were not alone. Two men helped them escape, and the woman's presence was somewhat familiar to him.
It wasn't any member of the sitting family here.
He'd seen all of their ravaged bodies as he'd made his way through the keep.
No, it was not Alec nor any of his kin, but it was someone Myrddin had made the acquaintance of.
For several moments, he considered just who it might be, but he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of thudding hooves approaching, and Myrddin concealed himself with a wave of his wand.
He done so just in time to see the first of them enter through the broken gates, and Myrddin narrowed his eyes at the visitors.
Danes, and one in particular he recognised from his travels throughout the country.
Cnut.
He'd sent his people to all but tear through the kingdoms after what happened when they'd first arrived at Camelot, and it appeared that the prolific ruler had indeed been busy.
"Seems they are fighting amongst themselves," one of them men accompanying Cnut chortled.
Cnut nodded, his long, shaggy red beard flowing through the breeze.
"That only makes it easier for us," he growled. "Find anything worth taking. We move out quickly. There is nothing for us to do here."
Myrddin curiously made his way towards the front gates and released a deep sigh at the sight of what lie beyond them.
Danes as far as they eye could see.
There may have been close to five or even six thousand; not all of those in Britain having agreed to follow Cnut, but a much larger force than most others could muster.
Even Arthur's own would be outmanned considerably, and with so few magicals in his own army, save for Strenger, who Myrddin was reluctant to use, there would be little chance of victory to face them in battle.
It was concerning to say the least, and yet, Myrddin was already formulating a plan, one that would be difficult to execute, but there was a group he might just be able to call upon to assist with the developing problem of the Danes wandering into Arthur's lands.
Godric's Hollow.
He would need to pay another visit to Ignotus Peverell, but not before informing his king of what had happened here.
(Break)
The woman had said little since they'd set off from Gwent.
For the most part, she had been focused on her son, which suited Harry well enough.
He did not wish to find himself in the company of a former princess who most in Godric's Hollow would consider an enemy, but he could not bring himself to leave her to fend for herself and her child.
No, that wouldn't do, not when both were so helpless.
"We will rest here for tonight," he declared, dismounting from the horse Hook had found for him and leading it to the nearby river to drink.
Gwyneth followed suit and stared across the water blankly for several moments before choking back a sob.
"They're all dead, aren't they?"
Harry nodded.
"They are, and I'm sorry."
"It was terrible," Gwyneth murmured. "I heard the screams and how the attackers laughed as they cut them down. Why would they do that?"
"Because some men long only for bloodshed and violence," Harry answered. "It is the way of the world."
Gwyneth nodded.
"My son…"
"Will be safe," Harry assured her. "I will not let any harm come to you or to him. I will take you to safety and then we can make arrangements for you to go home."
Gwyneth shook her head.
"I do not want to go home," she whispered. "They all look at him as though he was brought by the devil."
"Your son?"
"He was born out of wedlock. There is little worse than a woman of my position to give birth to a bastard."
"You didn't marry the father."
"No, and my own father will have nothing to do with Maxim, even though his birth was not his fault."
"I know how difficult being part of a family that doesn't want you is," Harry sighed. "You don't have to go home if you don't want to, but we should let your father know you are safe. I expect he will be worried when he hears of the attack."
"I will think about it," Gwyneth murmured. "Perhaps it will be better if he believes us to be dead."
"I don't think that is true. He may be angry about you having a son in such a way, but he is still your father. He will want to know that you are well."
"Am I well?"
"No," Harry answered, "but you will be because you have a son who needs you."
Gwyneth frowned before nodding.
"Thank you, Harry, for everything."
He offered her a reassuring smile.
"I'd best see if I can find us some food. I would not advise you wandering off too far. There might be bandits in the area. I won't be long."
He made his way further upriver to see if he could catch some rabbits, some fish, or maybe even a deer if he was lucky, but Harry could not help but think that he was missing something.
Gwyneth, of course, was protective of her son, but since she'd taken him back from Harry after he'd revived the boy, she had done her utmost to keep his face hidden.
He certainly didn't resemble the woman very much if at all, so Harry could only assume that he took after his father, and that the man would be easily recognisable in the boy.
Still, that was none of his concern.
He wished only to get the woman and her son to safety so that both could truly begin to heal from what they'd endured back at Caer Gwent.
(Break)
It had been a trying few days for Arthur.
News of attacks across Wales had been arriving for weeks now, and the latest at Caer Gwent was only one of many, but even Myrddin seemed to be concerned by this one, so much so that he had not delayed in visiting the keep for himself.
Adding to this, he'd received a letter from Mark demanding that Iseult was sent to him without delay.
Tristan would not see sense on the matter and was even threatening to abscond with the woman if any tried to force them apart.
It was a most delicate situation and one that Arthur did not see ending favourably for any.
He did not wish to incite war with Mark, or the already furious Irish who were still deeply displeased by their failed invasion of the west coast.
In truth, Arthur did not know what to do, but his most pressing problem was with what had occurred at Caer Gwent.
It was one of the most prominent keeps in the country, and though it did not belong to him, it was only a matter of time before an accord would be struck with Alec.
He immediately stood from his seat at the table as a tired Myrddin entered, and his expression gave Arthur little relief.
"Is it so bad?" he asked.
"Much worse than I could've anticipated, my king," Myrddin said gravely. "The attackers had already long left before I arrived. Alec and his entire family have been slaughtered, the lands plundered, and the keep destroyed beyond repair, but there is more."
"More?" Arthur huffed.
Myrddin nodded.
"Whilst I was there, a large host of Danes arrived. Their intention is to sweep across this land and take it for themselves."
"How many Danes?" Bors asked, his hand twitching irritably.
"Five or six thousand."
Arthur swallowed deeply in response.
He could muster around two thousand fighting men, perhaps three at a push, but nothing close to five or six thousand.
"Well, fuck me with a rusty sword," Bors groaned.
The other gathered knights nodded their agreement.
"What do we do?" Arthur asked.
Myrddin released a deep breath.
"We have only two choices, my king, and neither is preferable. Firstly, we can shut the gates to Camelot and fight them from within the keep. Even then, we may not be able to stop them."
"And the second option?"
"We march and hope we can gather enough men to fight them off. Camelot is the strongest castle in Wales. If we cannot fend off the Danes, no other keep will be able to."
Arthur frowned thoughtfully.
He could not bring himself to take the first option.
The people of Wales would be slaughtered in their droves, and if he hoped to rule over the entire country, he couldn't let much of it be laid to waste without lifting a finger.
No, that wouldn't do and he would only prove himself to be a coward and terrible leader.
"I don't like that look," Bors grumbled. "He's going to turn us all into tired heroes. Bloody hell!"
"No one is forcing you into it, Bors," Lancelot pointed out.
"You know that I have to damned well come with you," Bors barked. "Who else is going to stop you lot from being killed?"
He kicked one of the chairs before storming from the room, and Gawain laughed amusedly.
"He'll be fine after he's had a sulk. He's just pissed that he'll be leaving the tavern wench behind."
Arthur wasn't so sure, but he'd made his mind up.
He would not hide behind his gates from the marauding Danes.
"What do you advise, Myrddin?" he asked.
"We need allies, Arthur, and we need them quickly. I would urge you to send messages to the other keeps immediately, even those that have yet yielded to you, explaining what is happening. Even if we can come together briefly to fight off the Danes, that is all that matters."
Arthur nodded his agreement.
"I will. Anything else?"
"I advise that we reach out to the group that Leofric and Tristan met in the west. From what they said, they are a capable lot, and I expect that might have some surprises for the Danes, if we can convince them to help us."
"Will they need convincing? It seems as though we don't have time for that."
"They will," Myrddin warned, "but I think doing so will be worth the additional effort. I will meet with them personally, and I think it would help if I took Leofric and Tristan with me. They know them."
Arthur released a deep breath in a bid to calm themselves.
"Is it worth it?"
Myrddin nodded.
"They could be invaluable, my king."
"Then do what you must," Arthur instructed. "Take Leofric and Tristan. It might do some good to get him away from Iseult."
"Mark has not taken the news well?"
"He has not," Arthur huffed. "It is a problem for another day, given what you have told me, but still a pressing one. We cannot afford fighting amongst ourselves."
"We cannot," Myrddin agreed. "I will leave immediately, my king, and keep you informed of progress. You should prepare to depart.
I would recommend heading south from here to gather allies. If we are fortunate, the Danes own movements will not be swift."
Arthur shook his head as Myrddin left the room.
The Danes were not known for their reticence, and he did not expect their approach would change now. No, they would attempt to sweep across the kingdom like a plague.
Still, now was not the time to balk.
He may never have been called upon to face such adversity, but as king, it was his duty to ensure the safety of his people, and despite the sudden nervousness he felt at what was to come, he would not shy away from it.
His people would rely on him to lead them through this, and Arthur would do so, no matter what it took.
(Break)
"There's something not right about this place," Gwyneth commented as they approached the village.
"Only to strangers," Harry said fondly. "You get used to it."
Gwyneth nodded, but she held her son closer to her chest.
She remained as protective of him as ever. It was understandable given what they'd been through, but Harry still suspected there was much more to it.
"You made it then," Hook said amusedly, clapping him on the shoulder as he dismounted. "Owain wants you to go to him immediately."
Harry nodded his understanding as he helped Gwyneth from her horse.
"The boy is well?"
"He is," Harry confirmed. "I bet the two of them would appreciate a comfortable bed and some food."
"The food I can do," Hook assured him. "I have a few deer hanging and ready. I'll bring some for you. The beds, you're on your own with that. You won't find many willing to put them up," he added quietly.
Harry had expected as much, but it wasn't as though Gwyneth and her son would be left without.
He had a house he didn't use, so the two of them could rest there.
Harry preferred to camp by the river, unable to bring himself to spend much time in the home that had once belonged to his parents where he was from.
"I'll fetch you some meat and see you with Owain shortly," Hook murmured before heading in the direction of his own home on the outskirts of the village.
Harry led Gwyneth and her son in the opposite direction, ignoring the looks of curiosity and even hostility from those who recognised her.
"Why do they hate me?" Gwyneth asked.
"Because your king desires these lands and we will likely find ourselves at war with him soon enough," Harry answered, seeing no reason to conceal the truth from her. "Don't worry, I gave you my word that you would not be harmed, and I meant it."
Gwyneth nodded, though she did not seem convinced.
"What is she doing here?" an angry voice demanded as they neared the Peverell home.
Harry shot a glare towards the large man.
"She is here to rest and recover," he answered.
"She is Mark's daughter!" the man growled.
"And now she is my guest," Harry bit back. "Do not make something of it that you will regret."
The man flared his nostrils, but as Harry placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, he thought better of pressing the issue.
"That's enough, Bryn," Owain warned as he approached. "We do not harm women or children, and if any tries, I will allow Harry here to make sure you never do so again. Get out of it before we have a problem."
Bryn merely muttered under his breath before walking away, and the pale Gwyneth breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Owain merely grunted in response before shifting his attention towards Harry.
"She is your burden to bear so long as she is here. I have nothing against you, Princess, but my people will not be pleased by your presence. With that being said, you will be safe with Harry. You can trust him with your life, and that of your son. Do you have somewhere they can stay?"
"They can use my house," Harry answered.
Owain nodded his approval.
"You know where to find me if you need anything else."
"I do," Harry murmured. "How is Anwen?"
"As much a pain as ever," Owain chuckled, "and my boy is thriving. We've decided to name him Aeron."
"And do I get the honour of meeting my grandson?"
Owain smiled as Ignotus approached, the older man before shooting a curious glance towards Gwyneth and her son.
"Of course," Owain answered. "They are just inside."
Ignotus nodded.
"As eager as I am to meet him, I bear some unpleasant news," he said gravely. "The Danes arrived in Caer Gwent shortly after you left, Harry, as did a certain advisor to a boy king."
"Myrddin," Harry muttered.
"Indeed," Ignotus confirmed, "but it is the Danes we must concern ourselves with. Myrddin is coming here with two men. I expect he intends on asking for our help in fighting off the Danes. Theirs is a much larger host than any other nearby. He knows that Arthur cannot win alone."
"He cannot be trusted," Owain cut in.
"He cannot but are we able to defend ourselves against close to six thousand Danes."
"Six thousand?" Owain scoffed.
"I saw them for myself," Ignotus explained. "They intend on taking Wales, all of it."
"We can fight them off."
"At what cost?" Ignotus returned.
Owain frowned unhappily.
"I don't like the thought of allying with them. They will seek to take advantage or turn on us at the first opportunity. We made our position very clear."
"And that is why it will be us to seize an advantage," Ignotus replied. "They are coming to us because they need us. We must make it very clear that any assistance will be given on our terms. We can make this opportunity work for the people here, Owain. Do not let your pride cloud your judgement."
Owain remained unhappy, but he voiced no further objections.
Ignotus was perhaps the cleverest man Harry had met, and he had no doubt he was already pondering how to make the most of the situation.
Nonetheless, Harry was not comfortable potentially working with the man he would eventually be at odds with more so than he was now, but Gwyneth seemed even less receptive.
"Myrddin is coming here?" she asked worriedly. "Please, he will send me back to my father."
"No, he will not," Harry said firmly. "He won't even know you're here. Besides, I won't let him. I will do all I can to keep you safe."
"As will I," Ignotus assured her.
Gwyneth nodded, though their words brought her little comfort.
"How long until he arrives?" Harry asked.
"I expect he will reach us tomorrow," Ignotus answered. "We must be ready for him and any negotiations he brings."
"And what if he decides to threaten us instead?"
"Then the situation will become rather unpleasant," Harry broke in.
Ignotus nodded his agreement.
"Let us hope that it doesn't come to that. We may well be able to fend off the Danes if necessary, but to do so against so many will be all but impossible. At best, we would find ourselves cornered here. You must remember not all those who live here are like us," he finished pointedly.
"We will not abandon them," Owain declared.
"And that, my son, is why it is paramount we do not provoke any unnecessary hostility when they arrive. What is happening is bigger than us, our pride, and our egos. Let us not be foolish. We all have loved ones to consider."
"Of course, father," Owain replied soberly. "I assume that you have a plan?"
"I do," Ignotus confirmed, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I have quite the plan indeed."
(Break)
It was odd to be filled with such a strong feeling of protectiveness towards anyone but Harry, and as Morgana took in the appearance of the redheaded woman cradling a small boy to her chest, she understood why she felt it.
She reminded Harry of his mother, and the boys' jet-black hair could easily be mistaken for Harry.
Still, Morgana felt a twinge of jealously that Harry could feel this way about another woman, even if she knew there was nothing romantic with his intentions.
By nature, she wasn't an envious person, but when it came to Harry, it was another matter.
He was hers, and she would not allow any other woman to even attempt to sink their claws into him.
She woke with a start, and the same nausea she'd been experiencing for days now was as prominent as ever.
Morgana had thought that she might be pregnant, but she'd quickly established that she wasn't.
No, it was the magic of the fairies mingling with her own that was the cause.
She remained unsure exactly what was happening to her with them in her presence, but the little creatures were here for a reason.
Of that, she had no doubt.
Still, it wasn't the fairies that were plaguing her mind now.
The prospect of Harry meeting with Myrddin was troubling, as was the large host of Danes closing in on them in Wales.
Not that Harry would even consider fleeing.
Morgana had seen for herself what was at stake, and if the Welsh were to run, all would be lost for them, and the land would be all but impossible to take back once the Danes had solidified their positions.
Nonetheless, the thought of what was to come did not rest easy with Morgana, and as she looked towards the rising sun, she pondered if it was time for her to take leave of her home so that she may be with Harry if and when he needed her.
'Soon…your time will come soon enough, Morgana Le Fay…'
She looked towards the lake through the gap of the trees in time to see the woman sinking back into the water, and Morgana narrowed her eyes.
What the Lady in the Lake was, she didn't know, but her mere presence in the fairies, in her mind, and in the lake was as disconcerting as it was useful.
Morgana, despite the sickness she was experiencing, was growing accustomed to the changes, and soon enough, she expected to begin feeling the benefits of whatever was being imparted on to her.
(Break)
"Hell, there is something eerie about this place," Leofric murmured, instinctively reaching for the pommel of his sword.
"The land is cursed," Myrddin explained nonchalantly. "Your god does not live here."
"What about the church?" Tristan asked.
"He has been expelled from these lands," Myrddin answered. "Best keep your wits about you. I expect you will see much you wouldn't believe possible."
"After my last visit from Camelot, there's not much that will surprise. It's not as though anyone will believe it anyway."
Myrddin chuckled amusedly.
"The world is full of wonders most cannot hope to comprehend, as you will see soon enough. Your swords will serve you no purpose here."
Leofric placed a hand on Myrddin's arm.
"We are god fearing men," he said quietly. "Why would we seek help from a place where god does not exist?"
"Because sometimes, we must look beyond what a prayer can do for us and our own faith for what will truly help in our time of need," Myrddin answered. "Now, be quiet. He is here."
"God?" Tristan asked confusedly.
Myrddin shot him a pointed look and gestured for them to follow him into the church, which looked like any other Leofric had found himself in throughout his life.
There were pews, effigies of Christ, and even a podium were sermons would be given, but there was no feeling of a warm welcome. The very air in the church was frigid, and Leofric felt something ominous and unexplainable seemingly breathing down his neck.
"Do not react to it," Myrddin warned. "It cannot harm you."
Leofric turned sharply as a bark of laughter sounded from the corner closest to the dais.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
"Just me and my god," an amused voice answered. "I did not expect you to return so readily, Myrddin Emrys, but then again, neither of us expected such a large host to descend upon our lands."
"You know of the Danes?"
"I know of all that happens here," the voice answered. "You are not the only one with your tricks. Now, what is it you want?"
"The assistance of your men in fighting the Danes."
"I have no men. My son, on the other hand, has a capable host of his own, but I see little reason in helping your king when we can simply close our lands off."
"You would allow thousands to die."
"I would."
"No," Myrddin denied. "You are no monster. You reek of one, but that is not you."
"Perhaps not, but that begs the question what is your king willing to sacrifice for our help?"
"Sacrifice?" Tristan asked worriedly.
"Not in such a literal way," Myrddin murmured. "What is it you want, Ignotus Peverell?"
"Many, many things, but I am not here to negotiate. If you wish to do that, you will meet with my son. It is his men you are asking to risk the lives of for your damned kingdom, and it will be up to Owain to decide."
"Owain?" Leofric whispered.
"Yes, he spoke of you, Leofric, and quite highly. They will arrive shortly, but I must warn you to keep your weapons sheathed. Death will not appreciate being called here prematurely."
Leofric shuddered as a wave of coldness washed over him with a chill that seemed to freeze his very core.
"We did not come to fight," he replied.
"Then you are wise," Ignotus returned before falling silent, leaving only the coldness in the wake of his voice.
(Break)
"I don't like this," Owain grumbled. "I trust my father, Harry, more than I trust any other man, but the risk involved is not something I can bring myself to forget."
"Then we don't forget it. Remember, they need us, and if we aren't certain that something else isn't afoot, then we agree to nothing. Besides, I've already begun taking steps to secure the village. I will finish doing so before anything else comes of this."
Owain offered him an appreciative smile.
"You're a good man, Harry," he said fondly. "I'm guess you have a plan"
"I do, but one that can change depending on how our discussion with them goes. Myrddin is as dangerous as they come, and no matter what happens, he cannot be trusted. Don't lose sight of that. His only interest is in his own goals, and he will allow us to die to see them come to fruition."
Owain nodded.
"Our interest is in securing the village and fending off the Danes. So long as we can achieve both, I will be content."
"You have a plan."
"I do, and unless Myrddin agrees to my terms, I will sit back and watch as his king's arms is slaughtered."
"And I will be right there with you," Harry assured him. "Shall we?"
Owain nodded as he stood.
"Let's go."
The village always had the sense of coldness permeating throughout, but it somehow seemed more prevalent, almost acting as an omen for the moments to come.
Owain seemingly noticed it too, and he shook his head.
"Death is here," he murmured.
Harry nodded his agreement.
It felt as though the Dementors had arrived in force, and were lurking on the periphery, though the coldness was not an uncomfortable one. To Harry, it was almost comforting.
He and Owain said nothing as they made their way towards the church, though Harry could not deny that he was nervous. The very reason he'd been brought here a few years prior was to eventually stop the man he was now going to face.
"Come Death, come," Owain whispered as they entered the church.
Harry immediately recognised the three men waiting for them, and his hand instinctively came to rest on the pommel of his sword whilst the wand up his sleeve was ready to be called upon.
Myrddin's gaze immediately fell upon Owain, and Harry took the opportunity to size the man up.
He was slightly taller than Harry, and sported a grey beard, much like Dumbledore's. Although he exuded an aura of calm and even benevolence, there was something unsettling about him that Harry could not quite figure out.
Before he could ponder it deeply, however, Myrddin's eyes shifted towards him.
"And you must be the crow Leofric mentioned. Yes, his men speak highly of you, young man."
Owain snorted amusedly.
"You hear that, Harry, you already have a nickname."
"Piss off," Harry muttered irritably, ignoring how apt the moniker was.
Not that he was going to share that with anyone.
His animal form was a most useful secret, and he intended on keeping it that way.
Owain chuckled before sobering and shifting his gaze towards Myrddin, Leofric, and Tristan.
"You need our help," he said simply.
Myrddin nodded reluctantly.
"It would be most useful to us. You have talents and abilities that would save many lives."
Owain hummed.
"Or we could just shut ourselves away and watch the rest of the world burn."
"If we are defeated, they will come for you too."
"True, but I would rather fight with the few men I trust than the many I do not know."
"Then we will all die," Myrddin pointed out. "You cannot hope to defeat them, and even with your help, it will be no easy feat for us."
"Then we find ourselves in quite the predicament. The question I have is what is your king willing to give for our assistance? It would be foolish for us to fight for a man we will never kneel to without gaining something from it."
Myrddin offered Owain a bow.
"What is it you want? If you are not willing to fight because it is the right thing to do, what will it take to secure your help. Gold?"
"Gold is something I have no need of," Owain said dismissively. "No, there stipulations I have, and if you do not agree to them, you will get no help from us."
Myrddin eyed Owain curiously.
"You truly would let so many die, wouldn't you?"
"As a man who does not fear Death, I would feel no guilt in seeing many meet him. It is just the start of another of our adventures."
Myrddin frowned before shaking his head.
"What is it you want, Owain Peverell?"
"I want Arthur to stay out of our lands," Owain growled. "We have no gods nor kings here, and it will stay that way."
Myrddin was not pleased by the command, but the man knew that he would need the help of Owain and his men.
"Very well. You have my word that Arthur will leave these lands as they are."
"Your word means nothing," Harry interjected. "Mere words can easily be broken, and we do not know or trust you, or your king for that matter. Leofric was told the last time he was here that we will not bow to any king."
"If my word is not enough, what will it take?" Myrddin asked.
"An unbreakable vow and your promise in blood."
Myrddin narrowed his eyes, and Owain laughed.
"Oh, I should've thought of that," he said gleefully, "but I agree. I will not settle for anything less."
"An unbreakable vow is dangerous," Myrddin warned.
"About as dangerous as close to six thousand Danes coming for you."
Myrddin conceded the point with a nod, and Harry could almost feel his mind working.
"What will the vow consist of?"
"Only that no man, woman, child, or anyone else representing Arthur and his interests will enter these lands with the intent of subjugating the people here. There is no need for the vow to cover anything else, save for mutually beneficial addendums, but your words in blood will echo the sentiment. All three of you will sign it on behalf of your king. If you do not, you will leave without our help."
"Mutually beneficial addendums?"
Harry nodded.
"Neither you nor Arthur's men will attempt to harm us or any of Owain's men throughout the duration of our time together, and none will attempt to intrude upon these lands in our absence. There will be no deception or trickery from either party, and we will not leave Wales. We will fend the Danes off until all are dead, or they flee to where they came from."
Myrddin nodded.
"You toy with magic you cannot comprehend," he muttered unhappily. "Dark magic only leads down one path."
"Magic is magic," Harry replied with a shrug. "Now, do we have an agreement?"
"How quickly will you reach Camelot?"
"Within thirty-six hours," Owain answered.
Myrddin released a deep breath before looking up towards the ceiling.
He seemed to be pondering a way to get what he wanted without agreeing to the terms laid out before him.
After a moment of pondering his predicament, he nodded.
"We have an accord," he declared.
"Then let us get to it," Harry urged, removing some parchment and a quill from within his pocket.