"Hello, all of you lovely people. Sorry for not uploading as quick as I would like. I've been suuupperrr busy with gishwhes, if any of you have seen my tumblr at all). And also, just school and stuff and so much writer's block. Both from watching the show, and writing this. It's been rather difficult to write this adaptation; it's like the writer's know what i'm doing and are testing my skills. It's been so hard to change from Merlynn to Gwen to everything, and... sigh. I guess you don't care what I have to say.

As well as this, I've been dealing with a lot of personal issues that needed to be taken care of.

But, anyway. Have you all been enjoying this new season? I have. Especially Mordred's character, who has been one of the reasons for my turmoil - this issue with Magic and shit, which has irritated me to the point where I'm tugging at my hair and screaming at the tv because I just don't know what to do. But, we'll get to that stepping stone when we reach it, eh? I'm not going to deny that I ship Merdred... at all. I do, and I'm especially going to be incorporating this into the fanfiction~"

So this is the new story. "Forged Steel" - I kind of really like it, tbh, and I have to thank my dear friend Danielle for that! To new readers, uh, if you haven't read The Golden Effect, please do - I mean, even if you have seen season 5 it's still going to be a bit confusing for you! haha.

CHAPTER 1 - ARTHUR'S BANE: PART 1.

"I don't know what we're doing,
I don't know what we've done.
But the fire is coming,
So I think we should run."

- "Run" by Daughter.

Three years passed.

Camelot thrived, as it always had, and life moved on.

Though, Merlynn was well aware that their hardship was far from over. She could still feel the dark magic creep closer and closer, curling around the edges of the castle with spidery legs. Despite her fear, she kept her best smiles on when she was around others, laughed and joked and lived, but she could never brush off that feeling of foreboding. Morgana was defeated, but she was not finished; not yet. Merlynn knew that well enough, had seen her come back over and over without fail to bring fear to the citizens and to her.

"Merlynn," Gwen's touch was soft on her bare shoulder, slow, as if not to scare her. "You're fading off again."

She blinked and removed her hand from her throat, where she had been absently toying with a necklace gifted to her on her wedding by Princess Elena, then turned to her friend with a reassuring smile. "Sorry, Gwen. It's not the best of days."

Gwaine and Percival, among sixty other knights of Camelot, were sent to patrol the path to Ismere weeks ago. They hadn't returned, and there had not been a word from them since - to say she was concerned was an understatement. The North, as Gaius once told her, was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone had ever known. Those who went to the North rarely came back and, if they did, they were changed or severely injured. Dangers that had not been recorded lived amongst the snow and ice; many said that monsters were conjured from within the ground, the product of nightmares.

Merlynn had yet to believe them but now that her friends were in danger, it passed her mind many times since.

"I understand. But if we know our men, they are strong, they are fighters - the knights of Camelot never go down without using every ounce of their strength," Gwen comforted as she tightened the ribbon at the back of Merlynn's bodice. Since becoming queen, it was necessary to wear gowns around the public eye, especially when there were matters to attend to - like the meetings of the Round Table. The gown she wore for the occasion was chosen purely for the colour, bold and a deep red colour, like it was a representation of Camelot, Gwen had commented.

"I guess you're right," she sighed. "I just... We've never gone to the North, and we have no idea what is even up there."

"Sefa," Gwen beckoned. The girl came to Camelot some year or so ago, tired and withdrawn and so very young, a little younger than Merlynn had been when she first arrived. She had come to the king and queen, begged to become a servant to the kingdom; they had agreed and Gwen quickly took to her. The two had become friends, Gwen acting as an advisor to the new maid. Sefa was quick, somewhat quiet and she worked with little complaint. Though, there was a clumsy charm to her, one that Merlynn noticed in herself when she was her age; she stumbled on her feet when she was called, but she was more attentive than she had once been.

She giggled a little. "Don't be so nervous, Sefa," she remarked. "I may have the title of a queen, but I'm a villager at heart."

Sefa blushed, and stammered out, "So - sorry, my - my lady. I hope your bedchambers are of high enough standard for you."

"Yes, it is," her smile, while genuine, tightened at the ends. She didn't think she would ever get used to the formal attention she was given daily; her friends, acquaintances she once had, now bowed and gushed when they saw her, as if she had never spoken a word to them before she was crowned. Her relationships with them was never the same, even when she told them to treat her the same. "I'm not entirely sure why you would willingly volunteer to be ordered around - I was forced into it."

"I - I like helping people, my lady." Merlynn was quick to notice the white sheen that washed over her peach-toned face as she spoke, "My father always said that I had a compassionate heart."

"I'm sure you do," Gwen commented sweetly.

Merlynn smiled at the girl, then turned to the mirror; she was still the same servant girl from three years ago, but she was older. Not only in the eyes, which many had said were at least a thousand years older than she, but in her face. Her features were stronger, odder almost; she looked more magical, more powerful. Perhaps, in the same way Morgana's had, her magic affected her appearance as she aged. Cheekbones jutted from skin pulled taut from a past of malnutrition, ears and smile too large for her face, eyes darker and more ancient over time. The dress did do justice for her body, which had also developed over the years. Her breasts, which were larger than she would have liked now that she was over twenty, went to a small waist and hips - her hips, formerly very small, were made larger by the layers beneath her gown and the tight boning of the bodice that forced her belly to be impossibly flat.

"We're going to be late for the meeting if we don't leave now," she was reminded, then, as she was sucked in to her self-observations.

Merlynn groaned and smoothed down her hair. "You're right."

She wasn't exactly thrilled to go to the meeting, to hear of another failed attempt in finding two of her closest friends, among the rest. So, she kept at a slow pace, breathing deep to prevent a panic attack and to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. Gwen seemed to notice it almost immediately, and didn't bother to hide her grin as she nudged her waist.

"Are you being this slow on purpose?" she asked in mirth.

"A queen is never late, everyone else is simply early," she replied coolly. Merlynn locked her fingers together and rested them at her belly, trying to keep her posture straight as a queen's should be; usually, her shoulders fell forward, hunched, but it 'wasn't appropriate for a queen', so she had to practice the stance almost daily. "It shouldn't be a problem. I rarely speak at these meetings anyway."

"Arthur will certainly be angry," she remarked.

She rolled her eyes. "If Arthur gets mad at me I can just argue back - there is no 'I am your king so you must obey' rule now."

Sefa was silent behind them, and Merlynn knew why. Trained as a servant, they were supposed to be quiet and respectful toward their masters, and only speak to them if it was important or they were spoken to first. Seeing Gwen talk to her in such a way must have been a little shocking. "Fine," she gave in, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "He'll start shouting at people, and that is not a good way to start the morning."

As they reached the staircase leading down to the council chamber, she could hear him yelling at some servant, demanding them to find her. Merlynn rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "Arthur," she reprimanded. Arthur paused and stared, a smile curving his lips. "You need to stop shouting at Edgar - poor boy's about to have a heart attack."

He chuckled and took her hand as she neared the bottom of the staircase, then tugged her closer to him, hand looping around her waist. "Sorry," he pressed a small kiss to her nose.

"No, you're not," she snorted. "But thanks for trying."

"Mama!" there was a little squeal from down the hall, and the padding of little footsteps soon followed.

Galahad was three now, a little adventurer; he ran from his mother whenever he got the chance to climb and play-fight with the knights and explore the kingdom on his little legs. He wanted to be a knight, just like his father, as he had told everybody at least a hundred times each. Arthur allowed him to join the meetings on the pure request that he was kept quiet through their discussions. The boy sported a small, red cloak almost identical to the knights and had a wooden sword swinging from his chubby hands as he raced down the corridor.

Lancelot was chasing him, hands outstretched inches from the boy; he was going much slower than necessary, prolonging the chase to amuse his son further but, when he finally grasped him by the waist, he tossed him into the air. The boy squealed with delight as he landed in Lancelot's arms and squirmed, eager to continue their game before the meeting.

Beside her, Gwen laughed before she joined her family, mussing her son's hair as he grabbed at her skirts and buried his face in her. "You two," she mused, and scrunched her nose up sweetly as a kiss was planted on her cheek.

"Mama, look!" he drew out his sword again from a makeshift scabbard that she had no doubt Gwaine gave him, and swung it a few times. "I got a sword! I'm a real knight now. I'll go out and fight dragons and bandits and save the king and queen!"

"I can see that," she giggled, kissing his head. "Let's go inside. We're late enough as it is."

Gwen was allowed a seat at the Round Table among the rest of them. She was a part of the original Round Table, as Arthur conceeded when she declined his offer the first time, and deserved as much a voice as the rest of them. Merlynn sat beside her husband and, with sad eyes, noticed the chair on her opposite side was empty - it was Gwaine's seat, usually, and it only reminded her how much she missed him.

"Noble knights of Camelot, countrymen... friends," Arthur began as each member took their seats around the table. "I welcome you to this meeting of the Round Table. Three long years we have been blessed with peace and prosperity, but now it seems as though a shadow has passed across our lands. Sir Gwaine set off to Ismere some six weeks ago, with him went three score of our finest men. There's been no word of them since."

Merlynn slumped in her seat a little, toying with the curls her hair had been styled into. She looked a sight, ungracefully seated in her chair, the circlet she wore instead of a crown usually lopsided atop her head, but she didn't care. She sighed; if Isolde were there, she would stand, slap her on the arm and demand her to stop being a child, that Gwaine and Percival and the knights were survivors. How she missed them.

"We're leaving," Isolde said one morning, quick and quiet with that smile on her face.

If Merlynn had water in her mouth, she would've spat it out. "What?" she had almost screamed it out. "No, you can't!"

"Merlynn, Tristan and I have spent most of our lives travelling, running. We miss it," it was spoken with a shrug.

"But you don't have to run anymore, you can stay here - live here!"

Isolde had clicked her tongue and shook her head, then captured Merlynn in a hug that was so like her yet so very unlike the usual sassy smuggler. "We like it here, we do, but we just want to explore the world a little bit more. We'll be back whenever we get the chance, to see you and Arthur again, to relax, but we need this, Merlynn."

And she had let them leave. Just like that. Their chamber was always open to them, whenever they returned - and they had, six months in between, all smiles and radiance and each time they seemed more in love with each other than the last time they visited. They would stay for a few weeks and then go off again, and Merlynn was fine with it. She would miss them, but she understood the need to be free all too well.

"At my request, Sir Elyan lead a search party to the wastelands of the North. He found no trace of Gwaine or his men," he continued, resigned. He hesitated, then said, "It is as if they have vanished from the face of the Earth." Then, his hand was on her shoulder and he squeezed, soft and comforting, the warmth seeping through her bare, chilly skin; they were his brothers, but they were hers, too. Even the thought of them in danger, her brothers, her friends, made her physically ill and she almost keeled over each time it passed her mind.

The meeting soon finished, with each men on their feet and nodding respectfully toward each other, and the king and queen. Merlynn touched her hands to her belly and tried to remain composed as she followed her husband from the room, eyes lowered and shoulders set. Leon's hand touched her elbow and squeezed, a subtle gesture of affection - around the men, the sort of affection that she showed the knights were not exactly encouraged by the elders who still believed they had access to the council.

Once they were back in their bedchamber, Arthur was quick to draw her into his arms and tug her close. Merlynn buried her face into his chest and linked her fingers into the chain-mail at his waist; his scent was sweet and warm and loving as always, and she breathed it in, feeling her shoulders slump. All she wanted was her brothers back, and she knew he did too. Knowing him, he wouldn't back down to finding his men and bringing them back, alive or dead.

"If I were to tell you to stay, would you?" he asked, lips brushing across her hair.

She snorted. "You know that would be pointless. I'd go whether or not you gave me permission."

"Figured as much," he remarked. Arthur's smile was tight; he knew there was little argument that could pass between them on the matter that didn't end up with her going. "You know, a king and queen can't continue to leave their kingdom."

"So, you should stay," she offered, a hint of both teasing and complete seriousness in her voice. "I can bring them back safely in no time, and you can rule over this kingdom. Here. In Camelot."

"You know that it isn't happening."

Merlynn rolled her eyes. "We have Gwen here, and Gaius - when Tristan and Isolde come back, they'll help. We have enough people to preside over the kingdom while we're gone."

"The elders won -"

"I don't care what the elders think. Gwen and Gaius, especially, are the advisors and take power when we leave. We can trust them, Arthur, to make the best judgement they can. I'll be able to contact them, anyway, if there are any issues," she pointed out.

His mouth formed a straight, thin line as he pondered the thought. Her magic concerned him, much more than he put on; magic was, for most of his life, a taboo, and evil, dark taboo. Those who had magic were considered criminals, the villains - they deserved to be persecuted for something that wasn't in their control. And now, his wife and queen, was one of those creatures, yet she was sweet and compassionate and strong and beautiful, all in the same. She couldn't be evil and yet, a small part inside of him - a hint of his father's influence - told him to let her go, send her to prison for having magic, for lying and betraying him.

Though, he knew he couldn't. Wouldn't. Arthur loved her far too much and the mere thought of harm coming upon her left a bitter taste in his mouth. She was, in every way, his now and he was hers. The magic did worry him, though; she was so powerful and brave, but he could now see the toll her magic took on her after she used it extensively. She would be weaker, tired, older, almost in the eyes. It was impossible to stop her, so he tried to protect her in the only way that he could, the only way he knew how, and she wouldn't allow him to.

The road to Ismere was dangerous and, deep down, he knew that he needed her alongside him. "Fine," he bit out, pressing a quick, harsh kiss to her forehead.

[][][][][][]

"We know that Gwaine and his men crossed the pass, here, at Isulfor. But beyond that, there was no trace. The trail went cold."

The map was laid out across the table from end to end, detailing each location in Albion. Red marks, spots from paint that Arthur and the knights had marked each time they patrolled an area and it was clean; green marks signalled kingdoms that were at peace with Camelot and, the black marks, little dots spotted across some, were their enemies. Ismere was blank - there was no telling where their loyalties lay, as there hadn't been much life there since the Purge.

Elyan ran his finger across the detailed path of Isulfor, stopping just at the trench that was beyond that point. Arthur watched, rubbing his bottom lip with the tip of his finger. "What of this story that the fortress of Ismere has been occupied once more?" he asked with a deep sigh.

"I heard many rumours, Sire. All of them had one name in common... Morgana," the name passed Elyan's lips like a breath in the wind.

Arthur's eyes immediately turned to his wife, and she had to force herself to return his gaze. A memory passed her mind, years ago, when they first discussed them having children. She's not gone, she's not done yet, her own voice echoed in her mind, a mantra. Morgana was always going to be in the world up until she had enough courage to kill her - it seemed that the only chance she could die was if it was her, the monster in the High Priestess' nightmares...Emrys.

His jaw was tight and tense as he bit out, "Then we have no time to lose."

She knew it. The mere mention of his half-sister would send him into a stupor, and there was no tugging him from it; determination was overwhelming his entire being, fierce and rough and soangry. The betrayal never left him, not since he saw her standing beside Morgause with red lips sliding into that smirk, the smirk that hadn't left her face for the years after that moment, and many before it. Merlynn clenched her fists and bit her tongue, side-eying the physician who had taken to her side once they entered the chamber.

"Sire?" he spoke, soothing and calm as always. Yet, she knew better than to think that Gaius would agree to any suggestion made that would put Arthur, or her, in danger. "What if the rumours are true? You'd be walking into a trap." He stared at her then, and she tried to hide the sudden eagerness that bubbled beneath her breast like a pool of boiling water.

Morgana. Her enemy. She would be able to be face-to-face with her again. The High Priestess was a woman to be feared and, while she did fear her, she knew that they were matched with power.She is the darkness to your light, Merlynn. "Before we argue like a couple of children, I'm going to make a suggestion. Morgana knows of your dedication and care for your knights, Arthur, so she'll be expecting us to come through straight. So, how about we ride to Ismere from the west through Annis' land?" she offered, running her fingers across the rough piece of parchment. "She thinks you're rash at making decisions, so doing this will take Morgana by surprise."

Arthur blinked, surprised. "Would Annis grant safe passage to so many armed men?"

"I believe she would, sire," Leon replied. His expression changed, then, and there was a sudden spark in the king's eyes as he followed the path from Camelot to Caerleon, until he finally stopped on the icy point at the top of the map - Ismere.

"Dispatch a rider immediately. We'll follow at dawn. Remember, if we're to succeed, no-one must know of our intentions."

The meeting ended on that order. Merlynn was the last to leave, her thoughts lingering on the map spread across the table. She thought about her and Morgana's final battle often, wondering who would succeed - she didn't know what she would do once she was in Morgana's presence. It was fight, or die, and she was still not willing to use her magic openly against her. It would ruin all she had worked up to. She was stuck in a conundrum. Merlynn wandered out, buried in her own mind, eyes on her interlocked hands. Then, she bumped into something soft and she was sent crashing to the floor along with the sounds of metal clattering.

"Oh, my gods! My lady, I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy, this is all my fault please don't punish me," the soft, sweet voice of Sefa, riddled with tears babbled nearby, then a hand was on her arm and she was being pulled up. She was almost crying, she was so worried, pale and shaking.

Merlynn chuckled and touched her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Sefa, it's all right. Honestly. I've bumped into enough people in my life to be angry," she admitted with a kind smile. Sefa let out a little breath of relief and crouched down to pick up the items she dropped; she jumped in surprise as she was joined by Merlynn, who only smiled again. "Believe me, don't be scared. I'm literally still the same servant that I was years ago, I've just... got a new title. I'll probably accidentally bump into you on occasion."

"Thank you, my lady," she breathed.

"Merlynn!" That hadn't changed. Even after they were married, he still beckoned her as if she was a servant still, as if she wasn't queen - he had either neglected to treat her differently, or he did it to make her feel better about being addressed so differently. Merlynn guessed it was the former; he didn't shout to make her feel better, he did it because he was impatient.

She rolled her eyes, and slowly rose to her feet, one hand on her too-tight belly, the other on the wall beside her. Standing with a gown on was much more difficult than any female had ever managed to tell her. Merlynn grimaced, and said, "I should go after him. He'll be a pouting mess if I take anymore time." She left, muttering about 'needy husbands' and how she 'never gets a free moment, always at his heels'.

The seamstresses made her clothes, upon her order, that would suit her riding. Sets of trousers and tunics were to be used rather than the gowns she was forced to wear when walking around the kingdom. They were comfortable and made from soft material, not scratchy and thin like her old clothing she used to wear. The purple one was her favourite, reminding her of what she used to be, before she became a queen. Almost the same colour (she had a lingering suspicion that Gwen told them the shade of her old clothes), but it was more form-fitting and made of better material. Gwen quickly stripped her from the gown and left, not without a hug and a kiss on the cheek, wishing her the luck that she would need when she saw Morgana.

She slid on the clothes as quickly as possible, sighing at the familiar feel of a neckerchief at her throat. Merlynn was all too eager to put her trousers on; she preferred the isolation, as it gave her freedom to run as far and as long as possible without having to lift up her skirts. And her boots, the same ones she always wore, encased her feet like they had never been taken off. They were her favourite item of clothing she owned - of all the gowns and slippers, her old, scuffed and taped boots were the one thing she could never dispose of.

It was home when she put on those boots.

[][][][][][]

Gwen was waiting for them at the bottom of the staircase, Galahad sitting by her feet playing with his wooden sword. Her smile widened when she saw Merlynn, dressed in clothes that were more than familiar to her, heading in her direction; she had gone on adventures before with Arthur, off on missions and quests for political and playful reasons, but none were this serious. Not in three years. The two embraced as they usually did, arms wrapped tight around the other, heads buried in shoulders.

"Be safe," Gwen whispered.

"You, too," she replied, pulling back with another smile. "Remember, if you need me, go to Gaius. He'll know what to do." Merlynn then crouched down to her godson, watching as the boy stood to accept her hug. "You are so beautiful, my little Galahad." He kissed her soundly on the cheek, smacking his lips in a way that made her giggle.

"I wanna come!" he objected with a pout.

"This is a dangerous mission, Galahad," his father's voice declared from behind her. "I'll be back soon, though. I promise." Then he was beside her and kissing his son's forehead; she nudged him playfully, sending him a little snicker. Lancelot stood, and he captured Gwen in a loving kiss.

"Keep her safe, too," his wife said, motioning toward Merlynn with her head.

Lancelot grinned. "Don't I always."

"And please come back to me in one piece."

"I promise."

They rode for hours. On, and on, and on, until her thighs chafed and she could feel a burn settle over the tops of her shoulders from the heat of the sun on her back. When they stopped, she was faced with a large gorge. It was deep and dry and void of all life; perfect territory for an above, or ground attack. Merlynn nibbled at her lower lip and brough Firefoot to a halt beside her husband.

"This gorge marks the start of Annis' lands," Arthur declared with a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He brought a lot of his men with him and, if there were an ambush, there was no accounting for each one of their lives - he needed all of them to save his stolen men from Ismere.

"It's prime ambush territory," Elyan remarked.

His mouth formed a straight line at the reminder. "Take some men and follow the ridge line," he ordered, and motioned for Merlynn to follow him. She followed dutifully, nudging Firefoot in his direction.

There was nothing interesting to see from their side of the gorge. It was hot, hot and dry, the air crisp and sharp and untouched, almost as though nothing had even come through the place in years. But, she felt magic ripple through the stone walls - the signature was unknown, but she knew magic when she felt it. It brushed hers in a soft caress, pulsing like a living, breathing thing and beckoning her to a place beyond the gorge. So powerful and yet, she didn't fear it.

Elyan met with them in the middle. The magic sourced from where he came, that she knew. Invisible ropes latched around her waist and pulled her to the location, a lover's kiss against her skin. She didn't want to ignore it, she wanted to run to it. The call was so strong, enticing on her tongue. "There's something you need to see," short and curt, Elyan said nothing more as he reared his horse and raced back in that direction.

Smoke turned to ash on her tongue as they neared. Then the smell, oh, the smell, of burning, rotting flesh, of blood and death attacked her, made her choke on it. Merlynn used her neckerchief to cover her mouth while she lead the horse through the valley of the dead bodies - bodies of women and children, faces either twisted in agony, or completely unrecognisable as they were covered in so much blood. The smell was overwhelming and she choked on it, lashes wet with tears from the ash and the horror of it all. The people were helpless against whatever - or, whoever - attacked them, no weapons nearby, no evidence of them defending themselves. All she could hear were the screams. She noticed that there were no men there, none at all; they were all...gone.

Nobody spoke. Each man dismounted from their horses, solemn and quiet, as they honoured each one of the dead. Merlynn was reminded of Percival, or his tale, of the similar pain he had experienced before he became a knight. The thought left her quickly when she felt that hum again, right beneath her feet, pulsing and alive. It wasn't a person, it was the place before her, a crack in the wall of rock that lined the village.

"Emrys..." it wasn't a sound, but a voice in her head. Perhaps it was a person after all. The voice was weak and pained, dying. "Emrys..." She blocked out all sound but that voice as she followed it into the hidden arch. A blast of power hit her; raw and so loud, it spoke to her.

Merlynn walked deeper into the cave, having to crouch down into the low ceilings to fit herself through. The halls were too small to fit more than one person at a time, and she barely squeezed through. The further she walked, the stronger the magic was, and the sounds of rushing water became louder. Then, she found it. The source of it all. But, she was not alone in the room; a man, old and crippled and...dead, was slumped on the stone seat near the pool, arm outstretched as though he tried to make contact with the water in his final moments.

His robes were old and tattered, hanging from his thin frame. There was a tattoo on the inner side of his forearm, she noticed, as she peered at him. Her fingers touched the symbol without thinking, and she gasped at how cold his body was but, curiously, how pliable he was beneath her touch. Usually, dead bodies felt like rock, almost, hard and tough, as though the life was sucked from them until they were but empty carcasses. The black spiral, the boldest part of the tattoo, was a Druid symbol, one that was on each and every Druid.

But, it was the yellow coil, like a snake without a head, that made her furrow her brow and look closer. She had never seen it before on any Druid, so he must have been an important member of the Druid community. His hand clamped down tight on her wrist, then, and a scream caught in her throat as he pulled her closer, shuttering and coughing beneath her. He wasn't dead, but he was on the edge of death, fading quickly.

"What happened to you?" she asked. "Who did this to your village?"

The Druid's face was much younger than his eyes, which were wet with tears. "That it happened at all is all that matters," he gasped out, his grip tight on her. "I have been haunted by this moment for many years... since long before you set foot on this Earth, Emrys, I have waited for its arrival with the sorrow in my heart. For even as Camelot flowers, so the seeds of her destruction are being sown. The prophets speak of Arthur's bane. You would do well to fear it, for it stalks him like a ghost in the night. Unless you act quickly, Emrys, even you cannot alter the never-ending circle of his... fate."

Seeds of her destruction... He was talking about Morgana. Merlynn gulped and let go of his marked wrist, watching with wide eyes as it flopped into the water. She saw the water, then, turned milky white instead of the deep, clear blue it had been minutes before. It swirled viciously beneath his hand, creating something with it. She gripped the pool's edge, closer and closer to the image that was forming in the water.

Red. The vision was drowning in it, red and terrible and red. Footsteps, slow and lingering, was all she could see, could hear. A squelching of blood burst from beneath the man's feet; there was no remorse as he passed the bodies that lined either side of him, not even recognition of the clash of steel against steel echoing around the field.

The sky was so red. Flames licked the edges of her vision, and she could almost feel the heat flushed against her skin.

Then, she saw him. Arthur. He was on his feet, but there was blood staining his chain-mail and there was a look of horror and betrayal on his face as he regarded the other man in the vision. She saw the enemy's face, pale and young, blue eyes fierce and so angry. Their swords clashed, and Arthur...

Arthur fell.

"Is he alive?" the voice was sudden and insistent. Merlynn gasped and scrambled away from the pool, her entire body riddled with tremors; hands touched her waist, and she almost crumpled against the body she was thrust against. It was Arthur. He wasn't dead, wasn't weak, wasn't injured - he was safe and warm and alive and she almost wept from the feel of his heart, strong and steady, against her ear. "What is it?"

"I..." she choked on her words. How could she tell him that she had seen a vision of him dying? She couldn't, wouldn't bring that upon him. Merlynn would be the dumb prophet, as always.

His kisses calmed her. "You've seen a dead man before. Is it because he's one of you?" an odd question, one that could be taken in either way, but she knew it was not meant as an offence - he didn't know that they were 'kin', didn't know what to call the inextricable link she had with her own kind.

"I... y - yes," she said, and he kissed her again, once on her cheek, twice on her lips.

"I'm sorry. As soon as we've given these people a proper burial, including him, we'll move out, okay?"

"Okay."

That night, she left. Merlynn suspected Arthur could feel her body leave, but he didn't object, didn't bother to wake; for that, she was grateful. She needed to speak to Kilgharrah. He was her guide, the light in the darkness to send her in the right direction - he knew the past, present and future and, while she depended on Gaius for the same advice, she felt as though the dragon was so much... more. He was her kin.

"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd' hup' anankes!" she roared into the sky as she ran, ran and ran and ran until her calves burned.

Merlynn found him at the border of a cave, awaiting her. He was still the same dragon - it was as though that, since the Purge, he hadn't aged. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps dragons age by the millenia. Kilgharrah never told her how old he was, how old the world was when he was brought into it. She didn't bother to ask, but it burned at the back of her mouth like acid, desperate to be spat out before it sunk through her skin.

She would ask him one day. But today was not that day; there was no time for a greeting, for memories or catching up for lost-time, or her curiosity about his past. "I need to know about a Druid symbol," she called to him. "A black spiral, within it a thin, yellow coil."

He pondered, humming beneath his breath. "It is the mark of a vates," he said finally, his eyes suddenly narrow and curious, if not a little concerned. "A Druid seer. Where did you encounter him?"

"On my journey here. He was...dying, at a village not too far from this point. He warned me of Arthur's 'bane'," she admitted with a gloomy sigh. Merlynn could only guess that Arthur's bane was the boy he fought in the vision. He looked so familiar, the boy. There was something about his eyes that still burned in her mind as though they were hot pokers pressing at her thoughts. But where had she seen them before?

"His bane?" Kilgharrah echoed.

She nodded, tense now, as she recalled the vision. The detail of it was so fresh in her mind it was almost like it had happened mere moments ago, before she ran to him. "And, then...then, he showed me a vision," she went on. "A battle. A horrible battle. Arthur was fighting, and there was... Kilgharrah, he - he fell. I watched as he was defeated." Tears burned her eyes, and she roughly wiped them away, groaning a little at how upset she was - surely, the future was not set in stone? If it was, than life was not the life she wanted. To know that the one man she loved most was to die in the future, near from what he looked like in the vision, was beyond cruel.

The gods were punishing her.

"The vates' power of prophecy is unrivalled, even by a high priestess," he mused, grim.

"So," she cleared her throat, fearing the answer she would receive, "this battle will come to pass?"

Kilgharrah sighed. He set his body weight onto his back legs and leaned his face down to her, nuzzling as gently as possible against his kin's face. A breath of laughter left her at the affection, and he smiled, in the only way a dragon could smile. "Merlynn... I do not know. I wish I did, but a Druid seer can see far much more than I possibly could. All I know is that your meeting was not a coincidence."

"I should heed his warning, then?" she asked.

"There was a time when the words of a vates were considered a gift," he recalled.

Merlynn's chuckle was without amusement, bitter and short. "Then why does it feel like such a burden? Cruelty does not begin to describe the gods' 'gift' to me."

"A wise man is not cowed by knowledge, Merlynn," Kilgharrah proclaimed. "Instead, he - or, in this case she - uses it to guide her."

"How?" She was so lost, so hopeless and helpless against the words of a seer.

"That is something only you can decide," he replied, his voice grim. "But remember, the vates singled you out for a reason. Now, more than ever, it is you and you alone that can keep Arthur safe."

"As always."

So, that was that. I'm sorry it took so long to upload this; the current season has been a mad house, especially the most recent one. I mean, fucking Gwen man, I just want to kill her now. I understand she was brainwashed, but jesus christ! Anyway, so I hope you enjoyed it and, please, review. I want to know how you've been enjoying the season and my current interpretation of it :)

Strazza: mhm, is it bad that I still love him? sorry, not sorry. He probably does, omfg! aksjfdfjbflbgfkb i ship them so hard it's ridiculous, why. But I probably will, sometime, since Morded doesn't get a lot of screentime!

Reverie: Aithusa went off with Morgana, and then all that stuff happened. When I write Merlynn and Aithusa's reunion, I'm going to make it a bit different, obviously, but the reuinion on the show was so sad I almost cried azkdlffblgbk.

intensewhatever: oh, I'm glad you like it! :)

SuperPotterWhoLock: your username, I love it, ahhh! I'm uploading it here, just because I cbf tbh and yeah, oops! But I guess it'll be easier and if you guys really want I can separate it later on after season 5 ends. And, ahahah I'm glad you liked it!

The-Flame-Faerie: ah, I have so much homework right now but I've been doing this whoops aksdkflflkbb. And ahh thank you, you're awesome I like you omfg.

angel2u: they're not going to have a kid, even if Arthur wants it. I just... it's so inconvenient and I already regret giving Gwen and Lance a kid right now because omfg evil!Gwen. and thank you? I guess ahaha.

TheDuckKnight: ah, thank you! I know, and I read some spoilers which I think? Gwaine get's a love interest but she's evil so we'll see :S

Ultimate Mask: don't hurt me! I'm going to finish it, I swear. and ahefldlbkffldkvflg you make me blush with your generosity thank.

Okay, so hopefully I'll do it a weekly, or fortnightly, thing if I can get through school, because I have assignments and a pile of homework and whoops I'm so horrible at this whole school thing. Also, if you want to talk to me some more, or anything, follow me on tumblr: hemsicorns . com

Also, okay so we've had this discussion before but, now that she's older, I was wondering who could be Merlynn: Emilia Clarke (you know why; khaleesi, also she's got the whole badass thing going on and compassion and all the greatness maybe I should just leave it at her because she's so fab) , Felicity Jones (who i've been leaning towards for a while because Jessica Brown-Findlay just doesn't cut it now eh i made a wrong decision even considering her), Zooey Deschanel, Marion Cotillard, Meghan Ory (WHO IS RED RIDING HOOD ON ONCE UPON A TIME PLS GO WATCH IT! Only because she's good at being a wolf and her eyes turn gold and she's oddly beautiful and alkwslfkflbkhn)

Love you all!