Essetir's citadel stood on the only rise of ground in sight. Even from a distance it was an impressive size, shaped like a hill and towering above the flatlands extending in every direction. The land around it was trapped beneath an unbroken covering of helmets glittering gold and silver with sprigs of horsehair plumes. The vastness of the Saxon army was more daunting to see than reports of numbers could have described, heavy autumn sunshine picking out axe blades and swords poking above the tallest helmets.

The citadel was entirely surrounded and Arthur wondered that Lot had been able to send his plea for help. Of course, the Saxon ranks would have swelled since they learned Arthur was leading the combined troops of all the lands of Albion toward them. They would have known when he crossed the border from Camelot into Essetir that he would soon arrive at this spot, and they were prepared to defend the area with the same determination he had to take it from them.

Gwl and Olaf had marched west with Arthur's own troops, Bayard had come from the north to meet them here as Alined had come from the south. Arthur was gratified that Annis and Godwyn had joined him without hesitation. Rodor had brought his troops as well, although he would not lead them into battle himself. If Arthur's combined troops pushed the Saxons back far enough, what remained of Lot's fighters would be able to exit the citadel and assist in defending their own kingdom. Then they could drive the invaders back to the seashore.

Arthur's hand rested on the hilt of his sword and sweat crawled down his back under his tunic, armour, and cape as he surveyed what would soon be a battlefield. His horse shifted beneath him, the animal sensing tension in the space between the two armies. Arthur turned his attention from the enemy in front of him as they began to march forward so he could look over his right shoulder.

"Are you sure you should be here?" the king asked.

Merlin gave him a familiar grin. "How else am I going to protect your royal backside so you can drive the Saxons out and unite the kingdoms of Albion? Next time, though, I would appreciate if you chose a battlefield in a ravine so I can stand on a clifftop."

Arthur lifted a brow. "So you can send down lightning bolts on the enemy?"

A speculative expression settled on Merlin's face. "I don't know if I can do that; I've only called lighting down from the sky once and I was really angry at the time."

Arthur closed his jaw with a snap. Several of the knights stared at Merlin but he only shrugged.

Whether his friend intended it or not, the conversation had briefly taken Arthur's mind off the vastness of the army they faced. With renewed confidence, he faced forward again and drew his sword to raise it above his head, its blade as yet unbloodied and catching a flash of sunlight, while he paused to ensure all eyes to his left and right and behind were fixed on that sword. Then he brought it down in a slicing motion at the same time as he spurred his horse forward.

The sound of booted feet and horses' hooves running across hard ground chased after him along with eight different war cries mingled together. Puffs of dust were kicked up where hooves struck the turf.

Seeing the charge, the Saxons sent up a shout of their own and rushed forward, their mounted warriors likewise outdistancing the soldiers on foot. Arthur met his first opponent and then was conscious of nothing but swinging and dodging, his horse turning and wheeling at his command. Gwaine and Percival stayed close by his right, Leon and Elyan on his left. He never saw Merlin behind him but from the corner of his eye he would see a weapon or an enemy tossed through the air or a Saxon inexplicably thrown by his mount.

The heat of the sun was lost in the sweat of arms aching from nearly-constant motion and tired legs gripping the horse under him. The earlier battle yells had been replaced by grunts and cries of pain, his gleaming sword was now coated in gore, and salty sweat stung Arthur's eyes. The only sense of time passing was the lessening distance between him and Lot's citadel as the Saxons were pushed back.

Finally Arthur found himself in the shade of the citadel's eastern wall. He had a moment to glance up and see Essetir's defenders on the battlements, crossbows flashing in and out of sight, before his attention was consumed again in the fighting around him. Then he had moved past the citadel into the sunlight slanting down from the west.

The Saxons redoubled their efforts to gain back the land around the citadel and keep it surrounded, but Arthur responded with a rallying cry and pushed his own troops harder. Then the citadel gates were clear of enemy Saxons.

Arthur could see Olaf, holding his position at Arthur's right, look back at the closed gates and up at the battlements before he turned grimly back to the fight. Whether Lot was as yet unsure that he could safely open the citadel or was holding back for another reason, Arthur had no time to ponder. The Saxons pressed harder and Arthur responded by driving forward, his knights at his side.

When the Saxons could not regain the area surrounding the citadel, their line weakened further. The ferocity of the combined Albion troops increased in proportion to the faltering of the Saxons, who gave up more and more of the flat terrain.

Arthur pressed his advantage, forcing the Saxons back even further and faster. Only then did he hear a renewed shouting behind him as the Essetir warriors, their arms rested and their battle lust raging after weeks of confinement, reinforced the ranks of the victors. King Lot led them, his thick black beard and bushy black eyebrows visible below his helmet.

At the same time a bare-headed Saxon, his bald head wet with sweat and two bright scars crossing his left cheek, gave a rallying shout and drove his mount toward Arthur, axe held high. Behind him, several of his men followed suit, charging forward with loud shouts.

As Arthur avoided the first thrust of the axe and brought his sword around in a wide sweep, he saw the knights on either side of him engage the Saxons stirred forward in their leader's wake. Then the axe came down again and Arthur dodged the blade only to have the handle land heavily on his wrist and send his sword to the ground beneath the horses' hooves. The bald Saxon's weapon came up swiftly and Arthur raised an arm to take the force of the blow, hoping to keep the blade from sinking into his side, but before it struck him a spear thrust itself into the Saxon's chest and he fell backward.

There was a cry of pain behind Arthur and at the same time another of the Saxons charged toward him. He snatched the mace from his belt and swung it once in a circle before abruptly changing the arc so that the spiked ball dug into the Saxon's chest before the man's curved knife could do more than make a shallow cut on Arthur's right arm. The Saxon gave a choked grunt as he fell to the ground.

Arthur looked around for the next assailant, but Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan had felled the other attackers. As if the bald Saxon and his men had been the last bit of resistance, the Saxon line broke. The troops from Essetir rushed forward, surrounding the last pockets of fighting. Arthur left them to finish the battle, his hands dropping to his side as the ache in his muscles and the cut on his right arm pushed into his consciousness. He used his left forearm to clear sweat from his brow.

Red stained Elyan's right side. Percival moved to catch the dark-skinned knight when his hand dropped from his injured side and he slid from his mount. The big knight lowered Elyan to the ground and pressed firmly on the wound.

Gwaine gave the king's arm a long look but Arthur knew the cut was not deep. Then Gwaine's eyes fastened on something on the trampled grass and his face paled. Heart pounding, Arthur turned to see Merlin lying on the turf, unmoving.

Arthur looked down at the recovering Elyan on the ground in the emergency dressing station. Torchlight illuminated the grimace of pain on his face.

"You better be able to travel in two days because I don't fancy returning to Camelot without you; Guinevere would have my head."

The knight smiled faintly. "I'll do my best, Sire."

"Too bad you're going to miss the victory feast tomorrow," Percival said.

"Gwaine can drink a toast or two for me."

Overhearing Elyan's comment, the dark-haired knight glanced over and gave him a grin. "Anything to help a fellow knight." Then he turned back to the man sitting on the ground at his feet holding a damp cloth tightly against his head. "What about you, Merlin? Need me to drink a few toasts for you?"

"No," the sorcerer said. "I plan to be at the feast and drinking my own toasts. No amount of wine is going to make this headache any worse."

"Be thankful you have a sore head; that axe came close to removing it entirely," Leon said.

Merlin gave him a smile. "Thanks for making sure it didn't."

"Next time, Merlin," Arthur said, "perhaps you could look out for your own backside once in a while."

His friend gave him a half smile and then winced, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the cold cloth firmly into his head.

"Arthur, every soldier that fought with you today declares you are twice the king your father was and they would follow wherever you lead. Some say you are the Once and Future King of legend and you cannot be defeated while Emrys is at your side," Leon said. "Even Bayard has expressed his admiration for your leadership and his acknowledgement that perhaps you were right to change the laws."

Arthur felt his brows go up at that. "Well, we'll see what comes of that at the victory feast tomorrow."

Because Essetir had been under siege for so long and provisions were low, the victory feast was held at a Camelot town on the edge of the Forest of Ascetir. Torches lit the feasting hall and smoke mingled with the smell of a mass of bodies pressed together in the hall warm from the day's heat.

The feast was the first time since the battle Arthur was together with all the monarchs: King Olaf with his son at his side, hawk-faced King Alined, white-bearded King Gwyl with his two remaining red-headed sons, King Rodor nursing his injuries but sitting tall between his generals, Lord Bayard with his long stringy blond hair towering over his closest companions, elderly Lord Godwyn, Queen Annis in her animal skin furs, and King Lot.

Throughout the day as well as the day previous, Lot had been forging ties with the other rulers, attempting to take credit for the prior day's victory over the Saxons, but they had all seen Arthur take the field before Lot's troops left his citadel. Arthur had said nothing on the matter, sparing little time for the other royals and instead spending hours with the wounded and attending burials, not only of his own warriors but of any of those soldiers who had fought with him.

Arthur had been given centre place at the head table of the feast with the other monarchs ranged around him. Due to the size of the assembly, only the highest-ranking officers were granted places in the main hall with the royalty, squeezed into spaces at the long tables, while their soldiers lined the walls behind them. Merlin was squeezed between Gwaine and Percival on one side and Leon on the other. Even with Camelot knights between them and the sorcerer, a few nervous glances were directed toward Merlin by others at the same table. Soldiers who passed by averted their awed stares without meeting his eyes.

When the platters of meats, bread, cheeses, vegetables, and fruits and flagons of wine and mead had been emptied, Arthur stood and lifted his filled goblet. "My lords, the Saxons intended to sweep across this land to once more dip their red and savage tongue in the western ocean. Their thirst for land has not abated in these last years, but grown instead. They will not give up easily, but our victory has shown that as long as we stand united, this land will remain ours."

"Well said," shouted King Olaf, slamming one hand on the table and making the freshly-filled goblets jump.

"Agreed," said elderly Lord Godwyn. "Together we will keep them from our land."

Several of the knights and generals and both of Gwyl's sons echoed the sentiment with loud shouts, wine sloshing as goblets were raised and everyone drank.

King Lot did not join in the toast, his eyes skipping around the room to note who drank most enthusiastically and who was reserved. His lips were pressed tightly between his bushy black beard and moustache.

Arthur remained standing. "Singly we can be conquered one by one, or worse, fight among ourselves until the Saxons march in and collect the pieces. But with a strong centre, a common front, they will not beat us."

Before any could voice their approval, Lot's voice was raised. "Do you propose yourself as our leader? Is all this fine talk to set yourself up as High King over your elders?" His high forehead glinted where his black hair had begun to recede.

"If we are to choose one among us as leader, the choice is clear: Arthur," King Olaf said.

"He is young, but there is none other I would follow," Lord Godwyn said.

"He was lucky today," Lot said, "but we cannot depend on luck to carry us."

"Lucky that your delay in fighting with us to defend your own kingdom did not cost us the victory," one of Olaf's red-bearded sons said.

Lot drew himself up at the barb and the nods of agreement that went around the hall.

Even seated, Lord Bayard was head and shoulders taller than his nearest table companions and his voice carried across the hall. "In my years as king there has been enough blood shed to dampen these lands for a generation. I had hoped my people could live in peace once Uther and I made our treaty, but the Saxons have interrupted that time of harmony. I will not allow them to continue these assaults on our borders, and only a strong, united land with one leader will deter them."

"That may be true," Lot said. "The question is, should a boy who has worn his crown barely a year be put forward as such a leader when there are several of us in this room who are more fit to hold our united kingdoms together in the face of the Saxon threat?"

Bayard did not answer.

"His father was a strong leader and in time Uther's son may be fit to take his place." Lot raised his glass as if this was high praise. "But the boy is years from that honour."

Rodor's face was pale but he braced a hand against his injured side to raise his voice above the muttering in the room. "Not long ago I said the same, but Arthur showed us in the south and now again in the east that he is far from a boy. It was his planning, his skill in battle, and his luck," Rodor glanced at Merlin and away again, "that brought us victory both times. United, with him as our High King, the Saxons will not cross our borders again."

Lot frowned and Arthur wondered if he had counted on Rodor's support.

Annis spoke for the first time. "It is true Arthur has not long worn his crown, but he has already proven himself willing to atone for his mistakes and to put the lives of those he is responsible for ahead of his own. These are troubled times; if I were to trust my people's safety to a central power, there is no one else in this room I would pledge my support to."

"Arthur's victory is a sign that it is his sword that has been appointed to lead us," Godwyn said.

"Is it?" Lot asked. "Then where is this sword which is meant to lead us?"

All heads turned from Lot to Arthur, wondering at the question. Arthur's hand went to his scabbard, but his hand closed on empty air. He remembered his sword being knocked from his hand to be trampled under the horse's hooves in that final charge. Even if they could recover it, it was probably beyond repair.

"It was lost in the battle," Arthur said.

A superstitious muttering ran around the room.

"A clear sign that the sword which led us to victory has now finished its work," Lot said. "It is for someone else to lead us now."

"A sign," King Gwyl said over the whispers. "The sword is indeed the sign."

Puzzled looks were directed at the elderly monarch, even from his sons. Lot watched him warily.

"The legends say there will be a sword, a magnificent sword with a golden hilt forged in a dragon's fire that can only be lifted by the rightwise king."

Arthur saw Merlin start and stare fixedly at Gwyl.

"A sword of myth and legend is no more useful than a handful of smoke," Bayard said.

"Then I will lead you to the sword and you can lay your hand on it."

Merlin's voice had a strength Arthur had never before heard from his friend. The entire hall fell silent, staring at the sorcerer.

Finally Lot found his voice. "What trickery is this?"

"It is no trick." Merlin's voice was cold and rang with a note of power that Arthur found unnerving coming from his friend. "At first light I will lead you to the sword which lies buried in a stone, its golden hilt pointed toward the sun, and I will not stand in the way of any who attempt to lift it."

At the promise, Arthur could see plans turning inside Lot's head, searching for a way to turn this to his advantage and claim the sword himself. In that moment, Gwyl spoke again.

"Then at first light we leave here together. If this sword exists, whoever lifts it will claim the title of High King of Albion."

Glances were exchanged, but one by one each of the rulers seated around the banquet table indicated their agreement. Arthur stared at Merlin trying to discern what he knew and what his plan was, but all Arthur received in response was a small smile.

Merlin sat his horse calmly, ignoring Arthur's inquiring looks and suspicious stares from the other rulers. Despite the spate of questions Arthur and the knights had fired at him as soon as they left the banquet hall the previous evening, Merlin had refused to tell them anything other than that there was a sword and he knew where to find it.

King Alined walked to his mount, Trickler at his heels and a secret smile on his face. The sorcerer yawned widely behind his master's back. Dark patches under his eyes indicated he had been awake all night. Two of Lot's attendants looked just as tired and Merlin grinned to himself that they had been watching him so closely last night when he had never left his chamber.

After the royal parties assembled, Arthur nodded at Merlin to lead the way. Word of the sword and the prophecy had spread through the ranks of all the armies as well as the town and surrounding villages. Soldiers in a variety of blazons and citizens of Camelot formed a trail of foot-travellers in the monarchs' wake following them into the coolness of the Forest of Ascetir.

The sun was low in the eastern sky and the autumn sunlight had yet to warm the air beneath the trees. Greenery muffled both the horses' hooves and the walkers' footfalls. No one spoke above a whisper. Bird calls and the sounds of unseen snakes and small creatures fleeing through the underbrush sounded unnaturally loud. A breeze stirred the leaves of the treetops but barely touched the quiet crowd of royals, soldiers, and common people following the sorcerer.

When they neared the clearing, Merlin dismounted to continue on foot. Behind him, the royals and the knights followed suit, treading through ankle-high underbrush as they weaved among the tall tree trunks into a valley.

Merlin paused and caught his breath when his eyes fell on the glowing sword, its golden hilt touched by a shaft of light which outlined the clearing. He could feel its power from where he stood, could remember the feel of it in his hands. Gasps came from either side of him and finally he moved into the clearing to stand on the furthest edge beyond the large stone which sat in its circle of sunlight.

He saw Arthur's gaze fasten on the glittering sword, saw him take one step closer as though it had called him, then meet his eyes. Merlin shook his head slightly and Arthur lapsed into stillness, though his gaze remained on the sword.

Bayard was the first to step up to the stone. He glanced at Merlin who merely stood, arms crossed. Slowly Bayard reached out one large hand toward the hilt. As his fingers neared the sword, flames licked up from the stone and the king momentarily drew back his hand before he reached out to grasp the hilt. The flames leapt higher but he gave no indication that he felt any heat and his hand was not burned. Bayard tugged on the sword experimentally. It did not budge. He gripped it with both hands and pulled harder but without success. The muscles in his thick arms flexed under his tunic as he yanked upward. Finally he released his grip and stepped back. Immediately, the flames died down.

"It is stuck fast," Bayard said.

Alined moved forward. Trickler gave his master a reassuring half-smile, but he shot a nervous glance at Merlin. Alined reached out both hands. The fire leapt up and he shrank back before he resolutely gripped the hilt of the sword, then fixed his gaze on Trickler. His look promised dire consequences for the sorcerer if he failed to loose the sword in his master's hands.

Trickler's eyes flashed gold as Alined tugged on the hilt. The sword did not move. Alined narrowed his eyes at his servant, his mouth set in a grim line. Trickler stared hard at the sword, his eyes turning gold once more. His frightened look met the king's who refused to release his grip on the golden hilt. Trickler tried one more time to use his magic to release the sword but Alined's hands merely slipped, loosening his hold on the shiny metal. The flames died down. Angrily, Alined grabbed the hilt and tugged with all his might to no avail.

"Enough," Lot said. "Leave off."

Droplets stood out on Alined's forehead and his sweaty hands lost their grip again. He stepped back, panting slightly. "Do you want to try?"

Lot looked at the shining sword stuck in the stone, and then at Merlin. "No. The sword is not meant for me."

Gwyl looked around the gathering. "Is there any other who wishes to try his hand?"

A large man stepped forward and Merlin recognized Derian, Annis's loyal soldier. The giant strode directly to the stone and gripped the golden hilt without flinching at the flames which immediately sprang up. He heaved with both his bare arms and the stone itself rocked slightly but did not release the sword. Derian let go, gave a small bow to Arthur, and returned to Annis's side.

All eyes went to Arthur. His glance slid to Merlin and then fixed on the sword. Slowly, he walked forward until he stood beside the stone, facing the crowd which surged closer, swirling through the trees to either side of the monarchs lining the clearing's edge, everyone wanting to see for himself.

Arthur's gaze fastened on the glittering sword; he stretched out one gloved hand and wrapped his fingers around the hilt like a caress. The circle of sunlight lit his golden hair and sparkled along the sword which appeared to glow with its own light. Flames crawled up the words inscribed on the gilded length of the blade which rose from the stone.

Gently, Arthur lifted the sword and it slid smoothly from the rock, the blade sparkling in the sunlight as Arthur lifted it above his head until it pointed at the sky. He had not taken his eyes from the glittering blade.

Smiling to himself, Merlin looked around at the transfixed crowd staring upward at the shining sword Arthur held high.

Then Leon shouted, "Long live the king!"

Immediately the cry was taken up by the Camelot knights and citizens, then by the other soldiers, and finally by the gathered royalty. "Long live the king!"

Arthur could not keep his right hand from letting go of his horse's reins and slipping down to touch the hilt of the sword. It sent a shiver up his arm, and he knew if he drew it out the blade would glow faintly even in the bright sunshine.

It had been the same yesterday as he carried the sword back to town, the monarchs of all the kingdoms of Albion following him, to draw up the terms of the agreement that would make him High King.

King Lot had ridden directly behind him at Arthur's right hand. Despite Lot's frustrated ambition, he was well aware he could not hold the Saxons back alone nor could he hope to gather followers here. The soldiers, including his own, were a superstitious lot and they had been given a clear sign of Arthur's appointment as ruler besides having seen the golden-haired king lead them to victory.

Alined had returned unaccompanied by Trickler. Where the sorcerer had gone, Arthur did not know, but it seemed he had no intention of facing whatever retribution Alined had in store for his failure. Annis for one had noticed the man's special talent; it was likely he would shortly secure a position at another court. He could even do so openly as a sorcerer.

King Gwyl had officially repealed the ban on magic in his kingdom, and King Olaf and Lord Godwyn had followed suit. King Alined could no longer maintain his objection and would soon do the same. Neither Queen Annis nor King Lot had ever agreed with Uther's decrees. King Rodor and Lord Bayard would follow Arthur's lead in time.

Taking his hand away from the sword, Arthur glanced at Merlin riding beside him as they made their way back to Camelot with those warriors who had survived the battle. The most severely wounded would be tended in the border town until they recovered enough to travel or were buried with honour. Arthur had had little time to spend with them yesterday while he was closeted with the other monarchs so he had made up for that this morning, which meant he had not had an opportunity to speak with Merlin and get answers.

"Merlin."

The sorcerer looked at him expectantly. "Yes, Arthur?"

"What is the story?"

"What story?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. "The sword."

"You mean that sword? The one you keep caressing?"

"I am not caressing it."

There was a snort from Gwaine behind them.

"What is the story with the sword?" Leon asked Merlin. "They say you fixed it in the stone with your magic arts and it has waited there a hundred years."

The dark-haired young man puffed out a breath. "Well obviously I wasn't around a hundred years ago."

"Nor was the sword." Elyan rode stiffly, one arm pressed against his right side. "My father made that sword."

Arthur and Leon looked at him in surprise.

"It was the finest sword he ever made, yet he never felt it was finished. He was always finding some tiny flaw he needed to fix even though Gwen and I knew how proud of it he was."

"How did it get into the stone, then?" Leon asked.

"I put it there," Merlin said.

"Why would you do such a thing to a beautiful weapon like this?" Arthur asked.

"Because it has great power and in the wrong hands it can do great evil. I was in enough trouble after I let Uther wield it."

"My father was 'the wrong hands'?"

Merlin gave him a solemn look. "Yes. The sword was made for you, Arthur. You are destined to be Albion's greatest king, far greater than Uther."

"I can second that," Gwaine said.

Arthur looked at Leon to see if he would defend the king he had served faithfully, but Leon nodded his agreement with the others.

"Trouble with who?" Elyan asked.

Remembering what Merlin had said, Arthur sent him a questioning look.

"The Great Dragon. He wasn't happy with me."

"Then is it true the sword was forged in a dragon's breath?" Gwaine asked.

Elyan frowned. "How could that be?"

"I needed a weapon that could kill the dead."

"Why would you need to kill something that's dead?" Elyan questioned.

Merlin took a deep breath. "Gwen gave me the sword when I asked, and Kilgharrah burnished it when I begged him to help me save Arthur from the wraith."

Arthur frowned. "My father defeated the wraith, the one you said would kill me."

"I came up with a weapon for you to use that would kill it but then Uther came along and used it instead and anyway the Great Dragon said I had to get rid of it so I threw it into the Lake of Avalon."

"A lake? What about the stone?" Arthur asked in frustration.

"You're not good at telling stories," Gwaine said.

Merlin gave them both a long-suffering look. "I'm getting to the stone. When Morgana and Morgause attacked with an immortal army, I needed the sword so I went to the lake and Freya brought it to me."

"Freya?" Gwaine asked with an interested look.

Merlin blushed.

Arthur raised his brows but Merlin hurried on. "After the sword helped me empty the Cup of Life and the immortal army was destroyed, I put the sword into the stone where no one else could wield it until Arthur was ready to claim it. I had nearly forgotten about it until Gwyl mentioned the legend."

Merlin finished recounting the story and turned in his seat to face Gwen where she sat at the table in the royal chambers. He was still not accustomed to seeing her dressed in such a rich gown with her hair in long curls down her back, although she had not bothered with the royal circlet for this private meeting.

She leaned forward. "I'm glad you found such a use for my father's sword, even if Arthur touches it more than he does me."

Arthur's hand jumped guiltily from the gold hilt of his sword.

Merlin grinned at Gwen. "You may not be so glad when you have to help him rule nine kingdoms instead of one."

Gwen smiled. "He has you to help him, too."

"Merlin is no help, he's too busy enchanting swords and throwing them into lakes or burying them in hunks of stone." Arthur's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Who is Freya?"

Gwen turned an interested look on Merlin.

"She's a woman."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "How enlightening." He leaned forward. "How did she bring you a sword if it was at the bottom of a lake?"

"She's dead." Merlin looked down at the table.

Gwen laid a hand on his shoulder.

"A dead girl brought you a sword?" Arthur asked. "You have a complicated love life."

Gwen gave her husband a stern look before she turned back to Merlin. "Is this the woman you mentioned before? What happened to her?"

As painful as it was to think of those few precious days, Merlin wondered if it would be better after all to talk about it. "Arthur killed her."

"I what?"

"I don't blame you," Merlin said. "You had to protect your citizens and it was hopeless anyway. If I had left Camelot with her no good would have come of it."

"You would have left Camelot?" Arthur appeared more shocked than when Merlin had called a dragon and conjured up a wall of fire.

"She must have been special," Gwen said.

"I had never known anyone like her," Merlin said. "For those three days I was happier than ever in my life. But it was doomed from the start. She was cursed and I couldn't save her."

"What makes you think I killed her?" Arthur asked quietly.

"I saw you corner the Bastet. It was sorely wounded in its side, and I knew it was wrong but I helped her escape."

Arthur frowned. "The monster that was murdering people every night, with human footsteps leading away from the bodies, was a girl?" He looked at Merlin. "I'm sorry."

Merlin did not believe Arthur was sorry he had killed the murderous beast. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry she died and you can't be together," Arthur said sincerely.

"She won't be the last woman you ever love, you know," Gwen said.

Merlin gave her a small smile and patted Gwen's hand. It had helped to talk about it.

"What about Sefa?" She tipped her head to slant a look at Merlin.

He shook his head. "She's sweet and pretty and I'm glad you chose her for your maid, but I'm not in love with her."

Arthur waited in an open stretch of ground, the grass knee-high and a few rocky outcroppings poking out of the dirt, with Guinevere by his side and his knights forming a circle around them. Since Merlin had assured him Morgana was not planning another coup, he had accepted that she was finished her relentless assaults and he could concentrate on the Saxon threat and all the other demands of eight kingdoms. He had not, however, been prepared to receive her offer of a truce two days ago.

His first instinct was to deny her request and leave her destitute, dependent on the Druids. Instead, Merlin had convinced him Morgana's offer was genuine and she could be safely confined at Gorlois's keep, so Arthur had agreed to this meeting.

Merlin was supposed to bring Morgana but the sun had reached its highest peak and the sorcerer had yet to arrive with Arthur's half-sister. The sound of hoofbeats caught his attention. It was not the sound of a rider approaching, but of a horse looking for food and shelter. Gwaine rode out to catch the riderless mount and bring it back.

"It's definitely Merlin's horse," he said.

Gwen looked worriedly at Arthur. "Should we be concerned?"

"That Merlin is in danger, no," Arthur said. "That I will not be able to rid myself of the picture in my mind right now, yes." He turned to the knight. "Gwaine, go find them, they can't be far."

The knight nodded and rode off in the direction the horse had come from.

Not long after, Arthur saw Gwaine returning, his horse at a walk. In front of him strode Merlin followed by Morgana. She looked very different from the last two times Arthur had seen her: on the throne of Camelot with her sister, dressed in a rich gown with her hair groomed, and then again in the throne room with Agravaine by her side, wearing a ragged black dress and her hair in a tangle. Now she wore a red robe similar to the cloaks worn by all the Druids with her long, dark hair plaited down her back.

As she approached, Leon stepped in front of her to bar her way. She met the blond knight's unforgiving stare defiantly.

"How could you make me responsible for the deaths of innocent citizens for refusing to bow to you when you had no right to the crown?" Leon said coldly.

"How could you have unquestioningly carried out Uther's orders to arrest people for using magic when you knew they would be executed?" Morgana responded in kind.

"We have all done things we are ashamed of," Arthur interjected.

Leon clenched his hand on his sword hilt as though he would sooner cut her down where she stood than let her near Arthur. Morgana lifted her chin to hold his gaze unflinchingly until the king gestured for Leon to step aside and Morgana to approach him.

Despite his words, Arthur could not keep the hostility from his face. Beside him, he knew Guinevere's expression was no more welcoming than his. She was every inch the queen of Camelot, from the royal circlet on her head to the hem of her red gown stitched with gold thread.

He looked his half sister up and down. "Magic is not evil, yet you have used it repeatedly to attempt to take my life and my crown. What have I ever done to earn your hatred?"

"You made it perfectly clear how you felt about me and my kind."

Her words did not surprise him, but it was not said with the forcefulness he expected from her. His anger cooled. "I was mistaken, and I will do everything in my power to make amends to those I have wronged." His eyes flicked to Merlin and then back to his sister. "You know I am not the same as our father."

"Uther was never my father," Morgana said heatedly.

"Yet you have used his name and attempted to take his throne. You were responsible for his death."

He saw tears gather in her eyes but he did not relax his implacable expression. She had not earned any second chances.

"Arthur, I do regret some of the things I have done. If I could make amends I would."

He did not let her remorse sway him. "Are you renouncing the Pendragon name and any claim to the throne of Camelot?" Despite his refusal to feel sympathy for her, he found himself holding his breath while he waited for her answer, hoping she would make the right choice.

"Yes." She lifted her chin. "I want to return home, to my father's keep."

Arthur said nothing for a moment, his eyes searching her face. She had successfully fooled him for a long time and there was no reason to trust her now, but when he finally spoke it was without anger. "You have proven yourself to be a dangerous traitor. I cannot put the kingdom at risk by allowing you to live freely within the borders of Camelot. The only possible way to allow you to live at Tintagel is with one of my loyal knights in command of a permanent guard stationed in the keep to ensure your peaceable behaviour. If anything happens to them, I will know."

Leon stepped forward. "Sire, you know you could trust me to see to your best interest."

"Thank you, Leon." Arthur said. "But I need my First Knight in Camelot."

"Sire, if I may be so bold," Elyan stepped forward next. "You know you can rely on my loyalty."

The king looked at his knight thoughtfully and then turned to Guinevere.

"If my brother is willing to be stationed so far from the city, even though I will miss his presence, you can trust he will faithfully fulfill his duty." She gave Elyan a proud smile.

Arthur nodded at her assessment and turned back to his half-sister. He did not smile, but he felt a hope for reconciliation that had been absent for a long time. "If you renounce any claim to the throne you can take up residence in Tintagel, but you will be confined to the keep. Sir Elyan with a contingent of guards will be stationed there and will send me regular reports as well as receive my messengers whenever I choose to send them. You are free to practice the Old Religion, but be warned that although magic is no longer banned in this kingdom, crimes committed using sorcery are subject to our justice."

"Agreed," Morgana said softly.

"I will arrange for the packing of your clothing, jewellery, and personal possessions which remain in the palace and will send them to Tintagel," Guinevere said, her tone cool.

Morgana's startled gaze jumped to her former maid. "Thank you, Gwen," she said sincerely.

"Elyan, send word to Tintagel and make your preparations to leave within the week." Arthur turned to Morgana. "Merlin can escort you back to the Druid camp today and Elyan will ensure your safe passage to Tintagel when all is ready."

She gave him a nod of acceptance and he acknowledged her agreement with a nod in return. She turned her eyes to Gwen.

"Goodbye, Morgana," the queen said.

"Goodbye," Morgana answered.

Arthur felt Guinevere take his hand as they watched Morgana turn and stride away. Merlin gave them both a smile before collecting the reins of his horse from Gwaine and hurrying to catch up to her. The knights visibly relaxed at her departure.

"Am I wrong to let her live, even to live here in Camelot, after all she has done and the lives she has cost?" Arthur asked softly.

"No, Arthur," Gwen said. "A desire to punish is what nearly ruined us: Uther's revenge on magic, Morgana's revenge on Uther, both of them seeking justice for wrongs and causing misery to everyone around them. Compassion is the only way forward."

He squeezed the hand holding his and smiled down at her. "I can always trust you to give me wise counsel. Your capacity to forgive amazes me."

She sobered. "I haven't forgiven her, but I know I should and I'm trying."

"Then you will be my inspiration. Forgiveness and compassion are not values my father taught me."

Gwen laid one hand on the side of his face and met his eyes. "But you have them and you have shown time and again you are a greater king than your father was."

"I wanted to make him proud, Guinevere," Arthur said. "I hope he understands now that everything I have done is for the good of the kingdom he built and protected, even when I went against his decrees."

"By doing so, you gave the people of this land hope for the future of Camelot and all the kingdoms of Albion."

"Merlin should take some of the credit. I wish my father knew the part he played."

Gwen raised her brows. "What part is that?"

"Keeping me alive, making me the king I am, helping me build the kingdom that we dreamed of." Arthur saw the knowing smile on his wife's face. "Don't tell him I said that, whatever you do, or I'll never hear the end of it."

Gwen merely smiled and leaned up as Arthur bent down to kiss her.

END

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