It seemed all had been lost.

The once luscious meadows that lay outside of Camelot had been transformed into a scene of nightmares. King Arthur and his knights had led a surprise attack on Cenred's approaching army, which had been the cue for Camelot's vast and infamous army to spill from its gates like water escaping a dam.

The battle had been going well, Arthur's forces were driving back Cenred's army and several bands of soldiers had already turned tail and fled into the wood. Other battalions had surrendered almost immediately, clumsily throwing down their rusty weapons. They had been spared. The knights could see they were nothing but farmers, stable hands and servants. They were terrified and had no place on a battlefield; they had no cause to march for death and war. One glance at them and you could see there was no blackness in their hearts, no thirst for violence or desire for revenge.

Others though, had been enthusiastic at the idea of war. There had been no honour or mercy shown by these men who fought like rabid dogs, almost drowning in their bloodlust. They were still fighting manically but were being slowly overpowered by the army of red cloaks.

Arthur watched as his men inched ever closer to a bloody victory, allowing a small seed of hope to sprout in his chest.

And that was when they heard it. The cracking of the trees and the gust of wind that accompanied a deafening roar. All eyes were raised to the heavens as a young dragon soared overhead. Its scales were white and in the dying light it could have been a ghost if it not for the torrent of fire descending from its jaws. The sight of the dragon instilled terror in everyman regardless of allegiance or rank. The beast then landed next to… Morgana and an army of men dressed in black.

Where the hell did she get a bloody dragon? Arthur silently fumed.

"Hello Brother dearest. It's been too long," called out Morgana, with barely concealed hate in her voice "Things aren't looking too good for you now, are they? I'm offering you the chance to surrender now. You'll still die of course, but less painfully than if you continue. And let's not forget how many lives it'll be saving. Although I think I will have to make examples of some of your knights. And Merlin, of course." She glared evilly at him, her once joyful eyes cold and hard as steel.

"We will never surrender!" spat Arthur, trying as hard as possible to not let her see how powerless he felt.

"Well, I had rather hoped you say that."

And with that her forces charges onto the battlefield, Cenred's men rallying behind them. Morgana strode into the battle conjuring horrible beasts and shooting enchantments everywhere.

The tide had been turned, Arthur's numbers where dwindling under the combined force of Morgana and Cenred.

Arthur stood in the centre of the battle pausing for a moment taking in the devastation around him. Percival was taking on three soldiers at once with a desperate look in his eyes. Leon and Lancelot were fighting valiantly back to back cutting down man after man. Gwaine defended two huddled figures that, Arthur realised with a lurch, were Tristan who knelt over a bloodied and squirming Elyan. Before he could run over to help Gwaine protect them, he was literally stopped in his tracks. Morgana had silently approached him and cast a spell on him which gave her control of his limbs.

Very slowly she turned him on the spot to face her- almost as if she was savouring her control over the mighty King. She walked slowly towards him, her smirk growing with every step. The sorceress now stood before Arthur forcing him to kneel of the ground.

"This is it Arthur. I'm going to kill you. How does it feel to be powerless, to have no control over you fate, to fear for your life?" Morgana had screeched the last part, her breathing becoming erratic. Several of Arthur's knights had heard her speech and were trying to reach him but were held back by an invisible force field.

Arthur was barely aware of their cries; he could only just hear Morgana over his pounding heart. She was raising her arm, slowly, deliberately, prolonging the moment with a look of pure joy on her face. She opened her mouth, beginning to form the words that would kill Arthur, to snuff out his flame, to leave him co-

BOOM.

The noise was louder than anything they had heard before. It was deeper than the ocean and older than time. It was laced with a power so great even the earth beneath their feet shuddered in fear. It was everywhere and everything, louder than thunder and it filled everyman to the brim. It made you think of your first love and you darkest moments. It was diamonds and iron: day and night: hope and fear: joy and vengeance.

As the wave of sound and power it them, man and sorcerer alike fell to the ground. When they slowly their found their feet and with fighting forgotten they all turned to see who had caused the noise. It didn't take them long to realise who that person was.

There was a lone figure that stood atop of a small crest. Camelot proudly stood behind the figure, as if it were confirming it's allegiance to this man. He was cloaked in dark blue robes with a hood that cast dark shadows over his face. His hands grasped a white staff that rested on the ground in front of his. Dust rising from around him there was no doubt in anyone's mind that this man had caused the noise, and was indeed a powerful sorcerer.

He began his descent from the hill top, gliding with purpose towards the eye of the storm when Morgana and a stirring Arthur lay. His cloak billowing out behind him, his hood fell back slightly allowing more of his face to be seen. The moonlight danced on his pale young skin making him look ethereal as he glided forward only stopping to stare at the white dragon, his gaze unyielding, full of anger and hurt. The dragon quivered and flew away looking ashamed. With a swift and curt nod as if he was justifying something to himself, the figure continued his journey.

As he passed men began to shake terror or fear, some crying 'It is Emrys! He has come! The moment is upon us!" Others, mainly men from Camelot seemed dumbfounded at the appearance of such a powerful sorcerer and wary because, as Morgana had proved to them many times, magic was evil and corrupts. Many other the druids that had joined with Morgana knelt before this man whispering apologies, proclaiming their ignorance, swearing themselves to him, calling him their kin, their king. Other men in black began to convulse violently before hitting the ground like a led weight, dead. But the figure paid no attention to them. He was focused on what lay ahead. As he drew closer to the centre, he passed the Knights of the Round Table, who each bore a different expression.

First Sir Leon, whose frowning face was lined with different emotions; shock, disbelief, confusion, anger. He had been raised in Camelot under the reign of Uther and had grown up never questioning that magic was evil. But if this man, this sorcerer is who he suspected it to be then… he might have to rethink everything he knew.

The most honourable Sir Lancelot's face bore nothing but pride and happiness as he gazed at the passing sorcerer. His chest swelled with pride and his eyes were wet with tears.

Realisation dawned on Elyan as the pieces of puzzle all seemed to slot into place. Disbelief was also spread across his face as he wondered how he could be so oblivious to what had been right in front of him.

Similarly Gwaine looked disbelieving but more triumphant if anything, as if he had just won a very large tankard of mead in a bet. While his grin spread wide across his face, his eyes were determined as he swore to himself to keep this man safe. And to take him to the tavern and get him very, very drunk.

Percival gazed in awe at this man as he listened to the cries of the druids. "Emrys…" he whispered in wonder. But if he was Emrys…that meant that Arthur was… wow. Percival looked at the hooded figure in a whole new light; a fresher and stronger loyalty set in his heart and hope in his soul for this man is Emrys!

When he finally reached his destination, he turned to face Arthur, who was beginning to wake up. His right hand was still clutched around his staff as if he needed it to keep him from keeling over. He raised his slightly shaking left hand to his head where paused for a heartbeat before grasping the edge of his hood and lowering it, revealing his face.

Whether they new him or not, all men gasped at this pale young man as he opened his eyes.

Merlin's eyes were burning a never ending gold.