To March
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
"Have you already forgotten what I said?"
"No, but when it comes to Myrddin, for now, I want you as far away from him as possible. He knows you, and it could jeopardise what I am trying to do. I know you can change enough to not have any physical resemblance, but he knows your magic. Please, don't argue with me. You will be there when it matters most. Stay here with Anwen and Aeron."
Morgana was not happy but she nodded her understanding and kissed Harry on the cheek.
"Fine," she agreed, "but you have some making up to do."
She returned to the house and Harry released a deep breath.
He wasn't trying to protect the woman. She didn't need that, but Myrddin knowing of their connection would be of no benefit when Harry was something of an acquaintance to the man who did not see him as a threat, for the time being, at least.
"What was that about?" Owain asked curiously.
Harry shook his head.
"My wife has history with Myrddin, and it is not amicable. Honestly, she wouldn't miss an opportunity to cut his throat."
Owain chuckled amusedly from his chair.
"You've got yourself quite the woman there, Harry. I shouldn't have expected anything less. She tolerates you climbing on flying dragons."
"I wouldn't say tolerate," Harry snorted. "She understands me and my often-foolish ways. There's a difference."
Owain nodded.
"How did the two of you meet?"
The question brought a fond smile to Harry's lips.
"We met by the lake at Hogwarts," he answered truthfully. "We were both children, and she saved me from drowning when I needed it most. Maybe we saved each other," he added with a thoughtful shrug, "but she undoubtedly saved me, and still does."
Owain nodded approvingly.
"You know, I did wonder if there was a real human in there," he mused aloud. "You're quite aloof and give little away, but when you speak of her, you do so from the heart."
"I couldn't speak of her in any other way," Harry replied. "Now, shut up, I need to focus on what we're doing."
For Harry, any time he was to see Myrddin Emrys would be filled with a sense of unease given what he knew of the fate that tied the two of them together. Nonetheless, he'd dealt with the man more than enough times to have an idea how he operates, even if what he did filled Harry with utter disgust.
Still, if he was indeed here to discuss the dead roaming the east, then perhaps there was some common ground to be had.
"He is not yet here," Ignotus declared as they arrived at the church, and Harry idly wondered if this was where his parents had been married.
He could see them both standing at the altar, hand in hand sharing their vows with one another, vows that would be short-lived.
Despite leaving everything behind and building a life for himself here, he often thought of his friends, of Sirius, and of James and Lily Potter.
Much to his chagrin, he still thought of Voldemort.
It was difficult not to when Salazar had become such an important person to him.
The young Tom Riddle certainly resembled his Slytherin forefathers, though if Harry's dreams were an accurate representation of what the Dark Lord looked like now, that was no longer so.
It didn't happen often, only when he was exceedingly tired, Harry would get a glimpse of the world he'd being pulled away from.
Voldemort had indeed somehow found a way to inhabit a body of his own, but he certainly was not as handsome as he'd once been.
Now, he was a hairless, noseless, serpent-eyed abomination fighting to establish himself once more.
Being helpless to do anything about the man, Harry did his utmost not to think about his former life. He had other, more immediate problems here that required his attention.
"You are rather thoughtful, Harry," Ignotus pressed gently.
Harry nodded.
"There is always much occupying my mind," he sighed.
Ignotus squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.
"You're never alone in anything you face," he said reassuringly.
Harry offered the man an appreciative smile.
"I know."
"Good, now focus," Ignotus urged. "Myrddin is approaching."
Owain stood and leaned against the altar, and Myrddin entered the church only a moment later, his demeanour grim, though his eyes widened as he caught sight of Harry.
"Sir Harry," he greeted him with a respectful nod. "You do get around the country."
"This is my home," Harry replied with a shrug.
"And you managed to acquire your Marsh Reed?"
"I did and left the east quickly after. You saw for yourself what is there."
"Indeed," Myrddin said darkly. "It is that what brings me here now. Perhaps I should've discussed it with you when I had the opportunity, but I must admit, I was taken aback by your company. You see, I knew Godric and Salazar well some years ago. It was a moment where I saw two different parts of my life collide in one place. I suppose they mentioned that."
Harry shook his head.
"Salazar merely commented that you were once one of their students. Neither went into details, but I got the impression that they were not pleased to see you."
Myrddin released a deep sigh.
"We did not part on good terms the last time we met, but that is a matter for me to live with. I came here to discuss something much more pressing. Now, I did not see them for myself, but I witnessed the aftermath of the attack. It was a vicious scene, Sir Harry."
"It was," Harry agreed, "but I am unsure how you think Ignotus or Owain can help you. We both know that such creations go against the very nature of the purest magic. None should have such power."
"They should not," Myrddin agreed. "I have consulted all of my works, and there is no mention on how they can be defeated. Only one tome I possess mentions such things, and the author advises that neither magic nor blade is effective against them."
"Unless it is able to destroy the vessel of the magic entirely," Harry replied.
Myrddin frowned and looked towards Ignotus.
"Given the rumours…"
"Necromancy is not something I have ever delved into, but I can say with certainty that Harry is correct. These…creations… are highly resistant to most magicks."
"But there are some that can be effective."
Ignotus nodded and a grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Magicks that so few could call upon with utter devastation being wrought in such a way that could leave this land barren, uninhabitable, and coated with the ashes of the dead."
Harry looked towards Ignotus pointedly.
The man had heard of fiendfyre.
Ignotus ignored him, keeping his own eyes fixed on Myrddin, who appeared to be rather nervous.
"What magic is that?" the man asked.
"None that I would be willing to share with you," Ignotus said firmly. "You fight for a cause I do not believe in, and I will not give you such a weapon."
"Then the dead shall prevail, and the living will be consumed when Guthrum runs rampant across the country," Myrddin said darkly.
Ignotus shook his head.
"There are those amongst us unwilling to allow that to happen."
"You're going to help?"
"No," Ignotus answered.
Myrddin looked towards the concerned Owain.
"No," he echoed firmly. "We held up our end of the deal made between us. The men of these lands have earned the peace we gave them. Besides, I am no longer their commander. My days of fighting are behind me."
"Then who is in command?" Myrddin asked. "A muggle army cannot hope to defeat them."
He sounded almost desperate, and his tone was pleading.
Were it not for the severity and shared concern of what they were discussing, Harry might just take a small amount of joy in seeing the man this way, but it was indeed a problem not just of Myrddin or even Arthur, but for all men who would find themselves facing an enemy they could not defeat.
"You're right, they cannot," Owain returned. "Harry is my replacement. Should there be need to defend our lands, it will be him the people call upon."
Harry's focus snapped towards Owain, and the man merely offered him a nod.
"We didn't get a chance to discuss it, but me and my father agree it should be you. Now is not the time to argue it," he finished firmly.
Harry said nothing as he looked towards Myrddin.
"If Harry wishes, the men of Godric's Hollow will follow him wherever he goes. He has their unwavering loyalty. He earned that."
Harry frowned as Myrddin looked towards him.
He almost wanted to laugh, but he could not.
He had seen what the dead had done to Strenger's men, who had mostly consisted of magicals, and the very thought of what they would do to Arthur was not one he could live with.
He liked Arthur, and truly believed the young man would make a fine king.
Still, even though they might just follow him away from their homes once more to fight for a cause not their own, Harry would not see it come to that.
Nonetheless, he could not, in good conscience, do nothing.
Despite what would eventually happen between him and the man before him, they once more found themselves on common ground.
"The men of Godric's Hollow will remain here," he murmured. "I will not sacrifice their lives when so many will inevitably die, but you will have my assistance until the dead have been vanquished."
"Do you know how to defeat them?"
"Yes," Harry answered simply.
Myrddin met Harry's gaze, though he winced as his efforts to see the truth of his words were rebuffed violently.
"Do not ever attempt to do that again," Harry warned.
Myrddin nodded in response.
"Arthur will be marching from Camelot soon."
"I will find you," Harry replied. "I have my own affairs to attend to, but I will find you, you can assure Arthur of that."
"He thinks very highly of you, Sir Harry."
"And I him," Harry returned. "He will make for a fine king of whatever lands he manages to take."
Myrddin eyed him curiously for a moment before fastening his cloak about his shoulders.
"Then I will see you soon," he offered. "Thank you for your time."
He left and neither Harry, Owain, nor Ignotus said anything until they were certain he was clear of the village.
"You're going to help him?" Owain asked incredulously.
"No," Harry answered. "I'm going to do what I believe is right for everyone. Guthrum cannot be allowed to use the dead for his gain. Too many will die."
"You're doing the right thing," Ignotus assured him. "How do you intend on fighting the dead?"
"I will coat the countryside with their ashes."
Ignotus nodded knowingly.
"Then allow me to assist you."
"You know how."
"I do, Harry. When we set out to do what we did all those years ago, we did things no man should. Antioch believed it might be of use to us, just in case something went terribly wrong. It was one of few things we found that would destroy such magic in its entirety."
"What are you talking about?" Owain questioned.
His expression was one of concern, and with good reason.
"A fire so cursed that it leaves nothing but ash in its wake," Ignotus murmured. "It comes from the very bowels of whatever hell exists outside of this world."
"Well, it sounds like something that should not messed around with."
"It is not," Ignotus murmured. "Only a damned fool would do so, and we were the epitome of fools when we were young. Your uncles did not survive it, and I only do so now because not even Death can find me when I need to flee from him. One day, he will catch me, but he will only do so on my terms. Come, Harry, there is much work for us to do."
"What about me?" Owain asked.
"Are you a fool?"
"More often than most would like."
Ignotus's eyes twinkled with amusement.
"You're not so foolish, Owain. You are much wiser than I at your age."
"What about Harry?"
"He is foolish still, but in the best of ways."
It had been quite the marvel to see Ignotus using magic.
The man was rather unassuming for the most part, but having spent a few hours under his tutelage, Harry could only deem him to be a genius, and an exceptionally gifted wizard.
Ignotus had been rather coy about how he had learned of the fiendfyre, and even more so of his experience with it, but he seemed self-assured and confident in wielding it.
However, he'd not demonstrated the spell, nor had he asked Harry to perform it.
Instead, he'd tested Harry's ability in the Mind Arts, and just how powerful he was when it came to casting magic.
It as an odd way to learn something, but Ignotus had given Harry no reason to doubt him.
For now, their sessions were to continue, but until the next one, there was something else to attend to.
"So, you have another woman?" Morgana asked amusedly as they made their way towards the home belonging to Harry.
"Jealous?"
Morgana hummed and Harry chuckled.
"You have nothing to worry about," he assured his wife. "Gwyneth just needs somewhere she can raise her son. That's all."
Morgana nodded.
"I know."
When they reached the house, Harry knocked on the door, and it was opened only a moment later by Gwyneth, who smiled at the sight of him.
She looked considerably happier than the first time they'd met, and she seemed to be settling in well enough.
"Come in," she insisted, stepping aside to bid them entrance. "I hope you don't mind, but I've been making it a little more homely until Ignotus finds us a place of our own."
Harry waved the woman off.
"It needed it," he snorted.
The house hadn't been touched since Godric had abandoned it so many years prior.
"This must be the wife you told me all about."
"This is my Morgana," Harry said with a bright smile.
Gwyneth rolled her eyes at him.
"You know, I hope I find someone who lights up like that when they think of me," she sighed. "You're a very lucky woman."
"You don't have to live with him," Morgana teased, eliciting a giggle from the other woman.
"From what I have heard of his antics, I'm glad for it, but not as glad as I am for them. He saved our lives, and for that, I will always be grateful."
"He's sleeping?"
Gwyneth nodded.
"He will be down for some time yet. Is there anything I can get for you?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, we just wanted to check to make sure you have everything you need."
"We do," Gwyneth assured him. "The other villagers have been so helpful and generous. Hook is even helping me to set up my own allotment so we can grow our own produce. I always used to take it all for granted, but not anymore. I like it here."
"And you are welcome to stay as long as you like," Morgana insisted. "You need somewhere safe to raise your son."
Gwyneth nodded and swallowed deeply.
"You know?"
"My husband keeps no secrets from me, but yours are as safe with me as they are him."
"Thank you," Gwyneth said appreciatively, peering towards the ceiling as the boy above them began to fuss.
"Go to him," Harry urged. "We will come back another time. I'm pleased to see you're doing well here."
"Thank you," Gwyneth replied gratefully.
She headed upstairs as Morgana and Harry took their leave of the house.
"Bloody Hook."
"What about him?" Morgana asked.
"Nothing," Harry chuckled. "I think he has a thing for our former princess there."
"He's a good man?"
Harry nodded.
"One of the best I have met."
"Good," Morgana declared. "Now, you can come and see what I have been doing since we arrived."
"I should've known you'd keep yourself busy."
"We needed a place of our own to stay, even if it won't be for long. When do you think we will be leaving?"
"Soon, I expect," Harry murmured, "but I wouldn't long for it if I were you. What awaits us is perhaps one of the worst things you can imagine."
"I know," Morgana replied, "but I'm not worried about it."
"You're not?"
She shook her head.
"No, there's nothing out there that we can't handle together, Harry."
"Well, you're more confident than I am."
"Because I have you with me, and you have me. That should give you all the confidence you will ever need"
Harry nodded and took his wife's hand.
"You know, it really does."
"Good because this is just the very beginning of our journey, and I have no intention of seeing it end so soon, not until we are old, decrepit, and our souls move on."
"I like the sound of that."
"Like you have a choice," Morgana said with a grin.
(Break)
"You know, Harry will be furious with us when he finds out we are here."
"He will, but he has more than enough to focus on. We can handle Strenger."
"If he is here."
"He's here," Salazar said confidently. "There isn't anywhere else he can go. He can't go back to Wales, he certainly won't come anywhere near the school, and he'll never go back east. Daneland is the only place left to him."
Godric nodded and frowned beneath his hood.
"The book you gave Harry…"
"Is something none should possess but something he may one day need. It is the only way he will learn the truth."
"What truth?"
Salazar paused and murmured under his breath in parseltongue.
"It was one of my descendants who murdered his parents, and I think he might've just gotten the knowledge to become what he was from that book," he said sadly. "In a way, it is my fau…"
"Stop," Godric huffed irritably. "You cannot be held responsible for what someone in another time or place did. You're a good man, Salazar. A pain in my arse at times, but you would never do anything like Riddle. You've probably been closer than I would like, but you always know when you're going too far."
Salazar nodded and gave Godric's shoulder a squeeze.
"I try."
"And you have only done right by Harry," Godric pointed out. "He loves you, just as much as anyone else in his life, but there is more to it, isn't there? You mentioned Harry's soul…"
"I did," Salazar sighed. "For some time, I was concerned about what had happened to him the night his parents were killed. Something happened that night, and it had ramifications I could never have thought possible, and yet, Harry is living proof of them."
"What ramifications?"
Salazar smiled sadly.
"A blessing as much as a curse given how his life is turning out. Shortly after he arrived, I learned that Harry is like me, he is a parselmouth."
"He's a descendant of yours?"
"Not by blood," Salazar said dismissively, "but he certainly somehow inherited that ability from my line."
"From Riddle."
"It is the only thing that makes sense."
Godric shook his head.
"No, it doesn't. Magic is not transferred in such a way. Many have tried to steal the magic of others and it has proven to be quite impossible. Most die from the attempt."
"Harry didn't, but he didn't attempt to steal it. He was just a boy."
"So, what do you believe happened?"
"Something much more sinister," Salazar replied darkly. "I suspect that Riddle did things long before he ever met Harry, things that undoubtedly strengthened him in some ways, and weakened him in others."
"I'm afraid you have lost me."
"I lost myself whilst looking into it, but the long and short of it is that Riddle unintentionally attached apart of his own soul to Harry's."
"Unintentionally?"
Salazar nodded.
"No one would be either mad or foolish enough to do that. The soul is the most sacred part of us, Godric. Would you place a part of yours as a boy you saw as your enemy?"
"No."
"So, it was unintentional, and it has proven not to be dangerous to Harry. If anything, it has been to his benefit and will continue to be."
"He doesn't know, does he?"
"No, but I expect he will figure it out."
"Shouldn't we tell him?"
"I considered it, but I think it is best he discovers it for himself. He has all the tools to do so, and it is only a matter of time."
Godric was not convinced, but he wouldn't even know where to begin explaining such a thing.
He was no expert on soul magic.
In truth, no one was, but it is something Godric had always avoided. It was dangerous, imprecise, and as dark as almost anything else one might delve into.
Still, not telling Harry was not something that would rest easy with him but given everything else he was currently trying to deal with, the additional knowledge of the errant soul piece having become a part of his own was something he could do without.
For now, at least.
Salazar might be able to live with not telling the young man but if he did not figure it out for himself soon, Godric would tell him.
Harry deserved the truth.
"Do you think Strenger is here?" he asked, changing the subject to avoid a disagreement between them.
Salazar nodded.
"I am certain of it, but he will be hiding. After what happened to his men, he will not be feeling so bold now. He will not wish to draw attention to himself."
"I think you're right, but I also think he would've fled if he'd been able to. We know Harry's thought on this, and I find myself agreeing with him. Strenger would not be here unless something was keeping him here, and if there is someone who could have found that reason, it would be Myrddin."
Salazar hummed and a deep frown creased his brow.
"I am inclined to agree with you," he sighed. "As ludicrous as it sounds when I think of the boy I once knew, I know him no longer. Myrddin is his own man with his own morals, and someone I no longer recognise."
"He will get his. When the time comes, Salazar, he will pay for his part in all of this."
"Yes, he will," Salazar vowed, his hand twitching towards his wand.
(Break)
He looked on as the preparations for their departure were being completed. All within the keep were busy preparing for it, and now that it was imminent, Arthur was eager to begin his campaign.
After all he'd seen and endured thus far, despite the trepidation that plagued him, he knew that Britain needed to be united.
Men, women, and children were continuing to die for the sake of a few who wanted absolute power.
Arthur knew he was counted amongst them, but to him, he meant so much more than it ever could to the likes of Cnut and Guthrum. They would never be satisfied and would seek to conquer more lands, but Arthur had no such desire.
He wanted to conquer Britain to stop the violence, to bring the people together as one, and to see them thrive under the safe rule a king who would care for them.
That was what he truly wanted.
Arthur wanted peace for all men.
"Soon, Arthur. We will be leaving soon."
Arthur nodded and turned to greet Myrddin, frowning as he caught sight of the dark circles around his eyes and the slight sagging of his shoulders.
"What is it?" he asked.
Myrddin released a deep, laboured breath.
"News from the east," the man murmured. "It seems that Guthrum has found a way to create an army of dead for himself."
For a moment, Arthur didn't believe he'd heard Myrddin correctly, and even when he realised what he'd heard was accurate, he couldn't bring himself to believe something so ludicrous.
"An army of the dead?" he asked sceptically.
"An army that swords and even most druid practices will be powerless to stop. I expect Guthrum will take them west into Daneland before turning his attention to us."
"Cnut still has druids."
"But are they capable of destroying such a force?" Myrddin asked.
"Are they?"
Myrddin shook his head.
"No, Arthur, they're not."
"What kind of hellish place do we live? Dragons, and now an undefeatable army."
"Not undefeatable, but certainly a tricky thing to overcome. When the time comes to face them, we will have the weapons at our disposal to defeat them."
Arthur wanted to believe Myrddin, but if what he was saying was true, how could he?
"Trust me, Arthur," Myrddin pleaded. "I have never failed you and I will not begin doing so now. The problem is n hand. You need only focus on the march. We will make our way northwest first to garner some much-needed support. The kings in the region are warring amongst themselves, and the people deserve a strong leader. There, we can bolster our numbers."
Arthur nodded his agreement before turning back towards the keep.
"Where are you going?" Myrddin asked.
"To pray," Arthur snorted. "If ever there is a time we need a miracle, it is now."
Myrddin said nothing else and made no attempt to stop him.
Arthur had meant what he said about needing a miracle, but he had no intention of turning towards god in his moment of need.
Myrddin had indeed never let him down, but there was another man who hadn't either, and although Arthur trusted Myrddin with his life, it was Harry Potter who'd saved him, along with hundreds of others when the dragon had been set upon them.
(Break)
"It's peaceful here."
"As peaceful as the forest?"
Harry shook his head.
"Not quite, but I still like it."
Morgana placed a kiss on his cheek.
"It's almost as though you're surprised I managed to create this. Do you have no faith in me, Harry?"
"You know that isn't true."
"Maybe I just want you to tell me how brilliant I am."
"Do I not do that enough?"
"Not when your opinion is the only one that matters to me."
Harry nodded.
"You are brilliant," he said sincerely. "I don't know where I would be if I hadn't met you, but I know it wouldn't be like this. Better?"
"For now," Morgana said amusedly, handing him a lily. "I found them not so far from here. I thought you might like it."
Harry nodded appreciatively.
"I wish my memories of her were better," he sighed. "I only remember her pleading for my life, but from what little I do know, there was so much to her. She was brilliant too."
"I don't doubt it," Morgana replied, squeezing his hand gently. "She made you, and when we have children, they will be just as brilliant as you and your parents."
"And you."
"Of course," Morgana said with a grin. "Have you thought about it?"
"About children?"
Morgana nodded.
"I'd like them," she declared. "Several of them."
"Several?"
"Maybe five or six."
Harry chuckled amusedly.
"That'll keep you busy."
"I never had a family, Harry. My earliest memories were of being in a home with other children who'd lost their parents. There was not enough food, and when my magic first came, I was handed to a church. They called me a monster and tried to get rid of my illness. When I managed to escape, Salazar found me moons later scrounging for food. I would see families every day, and all I ever wanted was for someone to look after me the way other children were cared for."
"What do you mean get rid of your illness?"
Morgana swallowed deeply.
"They tried prayers and when that didn't work, they tried other things. They drowned me and even burned me. That's how I escaped. After they burned me, I pretended to be dead, and then they buried me. I don't remember how I got out, but when I did, I ran. I just kept running."
She choked on her words and Harry felt his anger rise into his chest.
He took a few calming breaths and pulled the woman into his arms.
Morgana had never been able to bring herself to speak of what had happened to her before she'd made it to Hogwarts, and he understood why.
She was just ashamed of it as he was of what happened to him during his years at the Dursleys.
"You can have as many children as you like," he promised. "We can twenty if that makes you happy."
Morgana giggled.
"Maybe not twenty."
They said nothing more for several moments, and Harry watched the gathering of fairies flying above them, the light reflecting on the large cabin by the river Morgana had built for them.
She'd also grown trees to surround it, giving them their privacy, much like they had back in the forest.
"I want to know where the church is."
"Why?"
"I'm going to ram the priest's head up his arse before I burn the bastard."
Morgana laughed and shook her head.
"He's already dead, Harry. Salazar beat you to it."
"Then I want to piss on his grave."
Morgana tutted a she cupped his cheek.
"He didn't deserve a grave, and it doesn't matter anymore. None of it has since I met you."
Harry nodded, he was still furious, but given he'd missed out on so much time with his wife, he was willing to let it lie, for now.
"Harry! Are you in there?"
"Hook?"
The man entered their retreat through the trees, and his eyes widened at what Morgana had created.
"Ships have been spotted on the coast," the man said gravely. "There are three of them."
"Are they landing?"
"I don't know. I came to you as soon as I got the message."
With a nod, Harry stood.
"Let's go," he declared.
Apparating away, he landed atop a familiar hill, the very same they'd intended to use to fend off the Irish during their last attack. Although it was dark, he could see the silhouettes of the ships passing them by, far enough that he could see they were no threat, but closer than he was comfortable with.
"What do you think?" Hook asked worriedly.
"They know better than to land here. They are heading north."
"Do we let them?"
Harry nodded.
"They pose no threat to us but watch them closely. Double the scouts."
Hook nodded and left to do so.
Harry narrowed his eyes as he continued to watch the ships.
"Where did they come from?" Morgana asked.
"They're Irish ships. I expect they…"
He paused as he felt a sudden disturbance, and he frowned thoughtfully.
The ships were not near enough to Camelot for Arthur to be requesting his assistance, and yet, the king was doing so.
"I'll be back," he assured Morgana.
"Where are you going?"
"Camelot," Harry answered. "I am guessing the Irish have taken exception to Tristan not holding up the end of the deal that would see Iseult married to his father."
"That's where the ships are going."
"I think so, and Arthur has asked for to meet him. I'll be back home soon."
With that, he vanished, wondering what it was that had the king so rattled that he'd sent for him.
(Break)
He'd waited until night had fallen before he'd sent for Harry.
Arthur didn't think Myrddin would appreciate him doing so, and he didn't want the man to believe he was being second-guessed.
Still, the trepidation he felt was not something the king could ignore, and as the day drew longer, that feeling had only worsened.
"Bee in your bonnet?"
Arthur all but jumped from his skin at the sound of the voice, and he turned sharply to see Harry leaning against the door to the tower he'd climbed for the sake of privacy.
"How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Just appear."
"It's a perk of being magical."
Arthur merely shook his head in response.
"I'm sorry for calling you here, I just need some advice."
"Don't you have advisors?"
"Yes, but men that mostly tell me what I want to hear, or who will not disagree with me."
"That's a perk of being a king."
"Not so much," Arthur sighed. "Myrddin came to me and told me about something he'd learned of in the east, something about an army of the dead."
Harry nodded.
"I saw them for myself, and what they are capable of."
"Is it true that they cannot be killed?"
"They're already dead," Harry pointed out, "but no, the magic cannot be destroyed so easily. Raising the dead is an abomination, and so few of my kind would even consider doing it."
"But there are those that have."
"There are good and bad people, Arthur, both magical and muggle. "You're worried about the dead."
"Should I be?"
"Yes," Harry answered. "They will tear through your men as though they were nothing."
"Myrddin says I needn't worried, that he has already taken care of it."
"But you're not so sure."
"I trust him, Harry, with my life, but how can he be certain that all will be well? I've never seen him fearful before, not like this."
Harry released a deep breath and nodded,
"Do you trust me, Arthur?"
"I do."
"Then you should trust Myrddin in this. He came to Owain and his father seeking help in dealing with the dead, and although Owain is unable to help, you will have me. I know how to destroy them."
Arthur felt himself flooded with relief at the revelation.
"You're going to help me?"
"Yes," Harry assured him. "I will handle the dead for you when the time is right, but as things are, I think you have a more pressing issue."
"I do?" Arthur asked with a frown.
"The Irish."
"The Irish?"
"Just before I received your message, I was alerted to the presence of three ships. They were only passing by the coast nearby, but I suspect they are heading in your direction."
"Why would they come here?" Arthur murmured before shaking his head irritably. "Tristan."
Harry nodded.
"I don\t suppose they're best pleased by what happened, and they've undoubtedly heard of Mark being executed. It even reached us, so it is hardly surprising."
"Bloody hell," Arthur cursed. "I will have to handle them before we march, but three ships of men are not even close enough to take Camelot."
"Then maybe they are trying to be diplomatic."
"Or they're not coming here at all. It would make no sense to attack the keep, so what are they doing?"
Harry shrugged.
"I will watch them and get a message to you on where they land."
"Thank you, Harry," Arthur offered appreciatively. "We will be marching from here in the next few days and heading north before we venture into Daneland. If Guthrum intends on doing the same, this is going to be unpleasant, especially with the dead leading his march. His army without them is more than enough of a threat."
"Then you must be smart," Harry urged. "I will be in touch with the whereabouts of the Irish, and you'd best stay alert. I don't think the dead have left the east yet, but they're being well-hidden. They may appear anywhere at any time."
Arthur nodded and watched as Harry disappeared into the night without a trace.
As much as it would probably be best to postpone the march, he had done so several times already.
No, the time had come for him to take leave of Camelot and finally begin fulfilling his promise to unite Britain as one under his rule.