Κεφάλαια επιδομάτων

Bonus Chapters – Six

Spring brought with it new life, and new hope. As dead as the Isle was, so full with emptiness and a deep, deep cold that would seemingly never cease, it all seemed to lift that day the Druid arrived.

She had accustomed herself to loneliness. The sacred Isle was home to nobody now, not even her in all reality. The home she had known was lost, become a place of danger, suspicion and hatred where once it had been one of laughter, love and friends. She could never return there. This temple at the heart of the Old Religion was nothing more than a place to lick her wounds.

Few of her kind remained – the last of the nine scattered to the very corners of the land. She knew not how many remained beside herself and Valdis*, the latter vanished with the horn of Cathbadh that Uther would not get his grubby hands on it. Even the boatman had gone, sent away at her behest that he would be safe if Uther should come. He went, despite his protests.

Uther could come. He could find her here, should he think to look. He had already sacked the Isle and stolen the treasures. He could come back. Some days she thought perhaps that it would be a relief. The constant wondering would stop, even if his attack on magic would not. She could finally cease looking over her shoulder.

Some days she thought perhaps she deserved the uncertainty. The constant fear. For doing what he had asked of her, despite knowing the risks involved. It would have been better, perhaps, should her life have been taken, instead of Ygraine's.

She still cried for her friend.

Then came the days that she felt a stirring, that she was glad that she had lived. These were the days when the seed of revenge long taken root started to grow; when dark ideas clouded her thoughts with plans and ways in which to damage Uther and his rotten kingdom, seek retribution from the fickle people who turned out to watch their friends and neighbours burn.

Those were dark days indeed, and garnered more and more of her enthusiasm with each passing one, resonating more and more loudly in the endless, lonely silence...

Until the day that she was not alone anymore. The day she felt another presence immediately they set foot on the sacred Isle. A Druid, apologetic that he - a man* - had invaded this holy place, but begged safety and shelter through the night, out of sight of Uther's patrols.

She granted it.

He brought food and asked that she honour him by sharing it.

She did.

He spoke of the destruction of his camp, the slaughter of his fellows by Camelot Knights.

She was not surprised.

He told her that he travelled North, to Caerleon's Kingdom to join a clan in the forests beyond Camelot's border.

She doubted it would be far enough from Uther's madness.

Finally, he observed that she seemed hopeless. As though there was nothing beyond this darkness.

She scoffed at the notion of hope.

He had asked her not to. For many, like himself, hope was all that remained. He told her that she too should hold onto hope, because the new era had already begun. Emrys had been found.

At first she had not believed. The Druid had insisted that it was true. Emrys had been found in a small village within the borders of Eldred's Essetir. He was but a child, born to a peasant woman and the last of the Dragonlords. The clans passing through in search of trade and shelter all identified him as Emrys. Even so young his power was reported to be unmatched.

And so she found herself walking the beaten path, making her way through the small cluster of homes and fields. Not in pursuit of a legend given hope to that lone Druid traveller, but something more personal, and deeply beloved.

She found him in the fields working alongside the peasants in the dust. No taller, but certainly much broader than the willowy creature he had been, back when she had stewarded a Kingdom's magic, and he had stewarded dragons.

At the sight of him toiling half-naked in the noonday sun, so at odds with the others around him as he so carelessly bore the marks of his people for all to see, she found herself running. Her feet carried her down the path without a care for her Priestesshood, the already frayed edges of her skirts catching beneath her sandals and tearing to tatters. Barely had he looked up from his work had she thrown herself into his arms, buried her face in his damp shoulder and sobbed so deep it racked her very bones.

Her friend. Her dear, dear friend.

He held her, she knew with a breathy laugh, not because he recognised her beneath her velvet hood, but simply because she was a sobbing woman clearly in need of comfort. He felt so still and awkward to her that she could not help but laugh out loud.

"Balinor."

She knew he startled, and looked down at her.

"N-Nimueh?"

How could she not chuckle? Her great, soft friend. She had missed him so!

His hold became sincere, protective. She was glad for it. To know that not everything had changed.

When they released one another, he stared down at her in shock, wordless. The sight brought her more chuckles even as tears of relief and sadness wet her lashes.

"My Lady," he managed after a moment.

She bowed her head. "My Lord."

"What are you doing here?"

"A person cannot visit a friend without questions?" She teased, amused by his rather accurate impersonation of a suffocating fish. "And such bluntness, too, my Lord. No compliment on how I look? No pleasantries?"

"You look the same," he returned lamely.

Nimueh felt a flare of affection and nostalgia. She smiled, and reached out to squeeze his bicep. "Which is not something that can be said for you, Balinor. Where did these come from? Am I to believe that Camelot's little Dragonlord has finally grown into his shoulders?"

That he was suddenly unable to look at her gave her immense satisfaction. It had always been so easy to tease and embarrass him.

He seemed to become aware of the villagers watching them from where they worked around the fields suddenly, and cleared his throat. "You should not have come."

Nimueh could not help but feel a little hurt by that. "You wish I should go?"

Balinor realised his words, and quickly shook his head. "That's not what I mean. This is a safe place – magic is tolerated here. But the journey is dangerous. If Uther should find you... If he were to follow you-"

"Then he would not know me," She returned with an almost condescending smile. "You should know me better than that, Balinor, to think that I should travel without a glamour."

He considered her words a moment, perhaps thinking himself foolish, however he fixed her with a serious look, "why have you sought me out? You haven't tried before, or you would have found me. Why now?"

Nimueh appraised him carefully. She was right that he had grown. He was no longer a boy. She wondered perhaps how his instincts may have changed. He had always been very protective of those closest to him. "I have come to see Emrys."

The way his shoulders tensed, and his eyes darted over those nearest them told her that the Druid had spoken the truth. She had indeed come to see Balinor's son.

He did not speak for a moment, but when he did his voice was low, and strained. "How?"

"That is not important," she replied sweetly, "all that matters are my intentions, and I wish you to be assured. I only want to meet the boy."

"It is important, Nimueh," Balinor all but growled back, his shoulders rounding in what he likely still did not recognise as an imitation of a dragon's defensive stance. Truly it was quite intimidating. "You will tell me."

She inclined her head. "Very well, but later. For now, trust that he is in no danger, and neither are you." She took his arm, fighting to keep from sounding too imploring, "please. Let me see him."

Balinor searched her face with narrowed eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching. At last he nodded stiffly, and stalked off towards the village, snatching his tunic from the fence as he went.

Nimueh supposed that she was meant to follow, though he had given her no indication. She did, folding her hands resolutely in front of herself to prevent them from wringing.

There was nothing at all special about the small house she was led to. It looked similar to all of the others. Small, thatched and utterly grotty as far as she was concerned. Though she doubted that Balinor shared her opinion as he strode up to open the door and walk through, neglecting to hold it for her.

She should have been affronted by such a display of bad manners, she felt, but could not bring herself to be anything other than surprised and perhaps a little delighted by the gang of small people that mobbed Balinor almost as soon as he stepped inside.

"My, my, Balinor," she smirked, looking up from the three children to meet his eye, "you have been a busy boy."

He did not make any reply to that, though did turn a charming shade of red and looked to the woman approaching from the stove, drying her hands with a cloth. Nimueh looked to her also, recognising her with a fond smile, despite any sibling affiliations the woman carried.

Hunith was clearly stunned to see her, something in her expression that told Nimueh she was momentarily afraid, but it passed quickly as Hunith turned to Balinor.

"You're back early." Her eyes flicked over Nimueh briefly, returning hurriedly to Balinor. "Is everything alright?"

He gave a tired nod, and bent to pick up Ganieda where the little girl stood holding her arms out to him. "Fine," he murmured, sitting his daughter on his hip. "Merlin has a visitor."

Hunith froze. "Merlin?" She looked to Nimueh, her hand rising to worry at her necklace, her eyes falling to rest on the smaller of the two boys.

Merlin looked up at mention of his name, his eyes settling on Nimueh out of curiousity, and perhaps a little worry.

"It is good to see you again, Hunith," Nimueh greeted, offering a warm and sparkling smile.

"What do you want here?" The peasant woman all but snapped, drawing closer to Balinor and the children and surreptitiously moving them a little way away from Nimueh. The priestess did not miss it.

"I merely wish to meet the boy," she returned levelly, her eyes falling on the smaller lad at Hunith's side as his mother's hand stroked over his dark hair, "discover for myself if what I have heard is true."

"And what if it is?" Hunith's eyebrow was raised in a manner so very reminiscent of her brother that Nimueh found herself cowed, filled with nostalgia and enraged all at the same time. The sight made her long for a time that could never be again.

She felt aggrieved by Hunith's behaviour, but recognised the flare of maternal protectiveness for what it was, though she had never experienced it herself. Absently she noted that it matched Balinor's own display in its own way. If indeed little Merlin was Emrys, then clearly he was well loved. She had not expected anything less.

Clever of the Goddess, she thought with an inward smile, to give the boy to a Dragonlord. Their ferocity and dedication to protecting their young knew no bounds. Balinor would not hesitate to give his life in defence of his son, nor would he hesitate to take hers should she attempt to do the boy harm, beloved friend or not. Neither would Hunith, judging by the expression on her face. Balinor had chosen well.

It was a good thing, then, that she did not intend any harm. To illustrate the fact, she clasped her hands at her skirts. "Then I shall be satisfied that I was not lied to," she answered levelly.

Unsure, Hunith scrutinised her a moment longer before looking to her husband.

He regarded Nimueh coldly, a stone expression on his face that made it difficult to gauge his thoughts. It did appear that he was satisfied she was telling the truth, as he nodded to his wife.

Hunith relaxed a little, though there remained a tightness around her eyes that spoke of worry and stress that became more ingrained by the day. She released a sigh, and rubbed agitatedly at her forehead before looking down at the taller of the two boys. "Will, you and Merlin go play outside. Take Ganieda with you. Don't go near the pond."

Will nodded, and ushered the two younger children over to the sleeping area to search out their coats.

Hunith moved to the table and pulled the bench from beneath it, gesturing to Nimueh that she may sit. "You must be weary, and hungry," she managed, halfway pleasant. "Please."

The priestess shook her head. "If I am unwelcome, then I would not-"

"You are not unwelcome," Hunith assured her, and indicated once again to the bench, "please. Sit."

Nimueh did as she was instructed, watching Hunith bustle about searching out refreshments and placing a pan of stew on the stove to heat, still in a manner slightly agitated. Behind, she heard one of the boys commanding Balinor's attention to assist them in finding a lost boot.

Curious, she threw out her senses in search of Emrys' magic. Strangely she found nothing in regards to him, but easily detected the familiar glow of Balinor's own formidable power, and also the fledgling magic of his little girl. It would seem that Merlin had been taught to hide his power, and to keep it below the detection of even the most skilled of magic users. Very impressive, for such a young boy.

Hunith took a seat across the table, setting a clay mug down in front of Nimueh. She placed another before the seat beside her, settling herself that she was comfortable and holding a third mug of her own between her palms.

Nimueh dropped her eyes to her own mug, finding it to contain a herbal infusion. Probably one of Gaius' recipes. "Thank you," she began, finding it hard to be humble, even in front of one she knew, "for not turning me away. I understand that my appearance is sudden, and... less than desirable."

Hunith shook her head, though Nimueh sensed a falseness in it. "You are welcome in our home, my Lady. Please understand, that should you have come here with any intentions not concerning Merlin, then your reception would have been friendlier."

"I do understand," Nimueh acknowledged, "he is your child, whatever else he may be." She cast a smirk at Balinor as he joined them and took up the seat beside Hunith, the children on their way out the door, "though for a moment there I did not doubt that Balinor was willing to rip my head off. I believe he well could, now that he is no longer a weed."

"Funny," the Dragonlord muttered, and took a long draught of his drink.

Hunith huffed at him, and clearly kicked him under the table, directing a long-suffering frown his way. She composed herself, and turned her attention back to Nimueh. "So how did you hear? About Merlin?"

"A Druid sought shelter on the Isle," the Priestess explained, absently turning her mug back and forth between her open palms. "He told me that I should let go of despair as hope had arrived."

"And he told you about Merlin?" Balinor gave a displeased grunt, and sat back on the bench that he may fold his arms over his chest. "Well. Perhaps they would like to send out a missive on the subject? I don't think that everyone in the five Kingdoms knows about him yet, or exactly where he can be found. Maybe Uther's ought to be delivered personally? It'd only take me a day or so to get to Camelot with it. Perhaps a gilded bow?"

Nimueh almost laughed, but seeing the grave expression on Hunith's face, forewent it.

Hunith threw a distressed look at Balinor, her fingers worrying at the roughspun table runner beneath them. "I don't like that people are talking about him."

Clearly Balinor agreed. "I'll send word to Iseldir that I want an audience first thing."

She seemed pleased with that, and squeezed his arm lovingly.

Nimueh observed them a moment, before lightly clearing her throat. "I have not yet sensed the full scope of Merlin's power," she began in a business-like manner, "he keeps it well hidden."

"He has been taught to," Balinor replied sharply. "He knows well that his magic must remain a secret outside the bounds of the village, and to any strangers who visit."

"Very wise."

"He has been raised to know the dangers of possessing magic in the... current climate," Hunith added. "He has been able to perform magic from the day he was born. As we were without Balinor -" the way she looked at her husband told Nimueh everything she needed to know "-I didn't know how to train him in its use, only to teach him that it must be kept hidden."

From the day he was born? Nimueh tried to keep her surprise from her face, and pushed down the small spike of jealousy that reared its head in her. It was hitherto unheard of that a child should be born with the ready ability to use magic. All who would one day have the ability to use it were born with magic, but the capability to call on it did not normally manifest until adolescence. Occasionally one would hear of a child with the capability. She had herself been such an oddity, as had the man sitting opposite her. But never before had a babe possessed command over magic. It placed a new perspective on the small boy she had seen racing for the door to play, holding his sister by the hand.

If one who knew how were to teach the boy, guide him in the ways of old and help him to reach his full potential, then he may very well be able to free magic. Emrys was said to be more than a simple warlock. There were those who believed him to be the embodiment of magic itself. If he could be shaped, and turned to a purpose, there may be no stopping him. Uther's days would be numbered. Perhaps she had come only to meet the boy, but if she were to take him back with her to the Isle – provide him the tutelage he needed...

"If indeed Merlin is Emrys then the best course of action is for him to be trained. I shall take him to the Isle where I shall teach-"

"He goes nowhere."

Nimueh looked up from her mug in surprise, taken aback by Balinor's tone. "Balinor, I assure you-"

"He. Goes. Nowhere."

"It is tradition that those gifted with powerful magic are sent to the custodians of the Old Religion to be trained in its ways. The Priests of the Catha took charge of the males, while the High Priestesses of the Isle took charge of the females. With our people so scattered, I as a High Priestess volunteer to train the boy."

"No."

"It is our way, Balinor. You know this."

"Balinor has been helping him with his magic." Hunith put in, trying to calm the situation she saw about to erupt. "He does well enough."

"Your husband is a powerful warlock in his own right," Nimueh acknowledged, a smirk on her lips. "Though to my knowledge the Catha never approached him as a boy. But he cannot teach Merlin as I can; to harness his power, to hone his magic for its proper use."

"And what would that be?" Balinor demanded, openly scowling at her across the table, "vengeance? What would that achieve but to bring more pain?"

"As Emrys it is his destiny to free our people."

"I know damn well what his destiny is! Lords know it has been shoved down my throat without end this past year. I am sick of hearing about it! Merlin does not need to learn magic."

All regard to remaining respectful evaporated. Nimueh openly laughed. "Come, Balinor. You know well that magic must be studied to be mastered."

"And study he does. It is words he learns, not magic - it comes to him without effort and responds to his wants and emotions. I am perfectly capable of teaching him spells. It is guidance he needs. You are not the person to provide it, Nimueh. Your bitterness and hatred of Uther forbids you."

"And what of you?" Nimueh demanded, glaring at him with such fire that Hunith briefly feared for her husband's safety. "You do not hate Uther? The man who betrayed you, destroyed the dragons and slaughtered your people? You would not see him dead and buried where he could do no harm?"

Balinor hesitated, Nimueh noted it, but shook his head, weary. "I would not."

"You would not see his threat removed?"

"Not by my hand, and certainly not by Merlin's."

"After all that he has done?"

Balinor did not say anything, but hunched his shoulders under her sustained glare.

Nimueh almost threw her hands up in the air. "You are a pacifist, Balinor. Like all of your people you would do nothing and see yourselves killed rather than take up arms."

"It is not in our nature to cause harm." He returned, voice shaky as he fought to keep his tone level. "We protect our own. It is not our way to seek a fight. Merlin is the same. To force him would be cruel and against his very nature."

"And what a noble nature yours is, that you would deliver your soul bond into imprisonment at the hands of your enemy, just so that you would not have to take up arms."

Balinor shot to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table with a force that all three of the mugs spilt some of their contents. "You know nothing!" he barked, shaking off the calming hand Hunith placed on his arm.

"I know that you were done wrong, and that you will not stand up and make it right!" Nimueh fired back, a scowl on her face. "Kilgarrah sits rotting in the caves beneath Camelot while Uther still hunts for you. What if he finds you, Balinor? What then?"

"He will not."

"And if he does? You know that this village will be no protection. He would raze the place to get to you. The murder of innocents is no obstacle to him. You tell me that you would not fight, should he come? You would see your wife hanged? Your children drowned as you watch from the stake?"

His breath shuddered, but he did not say anything. Nimueh noted the clench of his jaw, knew him well enough to see that he was angry. She seized upon it.

"You would stand there and allow your friend to kill them and everyone here, because it is your nature?"

"Uther Pendragon is no friend of mine."

"And yet he was. You and I both knew him as a friend. We both pledged ourselves in service to his Kingdom."

"That man is long dead."

"If you truly believed that then you would not hesitate to see the monster that now wears his face dead also." She shook her head at him, glad to see how her disappointment stung him. "You are too sentimental for your own good, Balinor."

"I would not prevent his death, be sure," he murmured in return, grounding his eyes squarely on the table beside his curled fingers, "but I would not have a hand in it."

"And yet it may be your son's destiny to see to it."

Balinor shook his head hard. "I do not believe that."

"Allow me to train him, and we shall see."

"Under your guidance Merlin most certainly would become a weapon. You would use him purely to enact revenge."

"For our people."

"In a mess of your making."

"How dare you!" Nimueh stood, meeting his eyes across the table in a deadly glare. "You blame me for Uther's war on magic?"

"You knew," Balinor fixed her with a hard look, "you knew what would happen if you gave Uther his wish."

"I did not know that Ygraine would die!"

The pain in her voice was genuine. Balinor acknowledged it. Nimueh had loved Ygraine. They all had. "I believe you. However, you did know that there would be a price. To create a life, one must be taken. You knew this."

Nimueh looked away, but did not answer. Balinor did not drop his stare. "Uther knew it also. We all did."

"You cannot blame me for the purge." Nimueh fought back weakly. "It is of Uther's doing."

"We are all to blame in some capacity," Balinor acknowledged, a crack to his voice as his stare faltered. Hunith closed her hand over his on the tabletop. He swallowed, "we all wished to see Camelot strong. The future provided for. Uther and Ygraine contented."

"They were our friends." Nimueh blinked, fearful of the tears cloying about her lashes breaking free. She looked up at Balinor across the table, "you are not to blame."

"Am I not? We all played a part. You, Gaius, myself. We all knew that a life would be demanded. Gaius and I voiced warnings, to you and to Uther. I am guilty of not voicing them loud enough."

Nimueh clasped her hands on the tabletop, and leant on them, feeling suddenly drained. She felt guilt stirring in her own belly. To be faced with someone who knew all that had transpired, and to be faced with her own part in the horror. She could not deny it. "I did know the price. As did Uther. We did not think for even a moment that it would be Ygraine that would pay."

"Because that of a citizen outside of our immediate circle would have been worthless?"

"That was your objection at the time," she recalled, unable to help the flare of fond feeling for the man opposite her, "that no life was worth more, or less than another."

"I believe that still."

All of the fight left Nimueh. She sank onto the bench, and found herself staring blankly at the scratched and weathered tabletop before her. "I should have foreseen Uther's rage, should something have gone wrong."

Hunith managed a weak smile, reaching out across the table to take Nimueh's hand as she held Balinor's, her husband taking his seat beside her with a look of defeat. "How could you have foreseen it? Uther was such a kind man."

The High Priestess gave a warm, heartfelt smile, and closed her hand over Hunith's atop her own. "You did always see only the good in people, Hunith."

"What he has done, he has done out of grief, and arrogance," Balinor told her. "He cannot accept blame for his own part in Ygraine's death, so places it on others."

"So many of our people should suffer for his grief?"

Balinor shook his head. "Uther has committed many acts of evil. There is no pardon for them."

"Yet you would not take his life, should the opportunity arise?"

"I would not."

"Then you are a fool." Nimueh looked away from him in disgust. Balinor was unperturbed.

"I regard myself as different to Uther," he told her levelly. "To take revenge would make me no better than him."

The High Priestess snapped round to look at him, her lip curling in outrage. "You dare call me no better than Uther?"

"If it is revenge you seek, then yes. And Merlin shall not be your tool."

"How dare you!" She slammed a fist down on the table, disregarding Hunith's hurried effort to prevent another spillage, "I will not listen to such an insult from one would not even stand up for his dragon. Is there nothing that will make you fight?"

"Try to take my son and you will see..."

The two of them rose slightly from their seats once again, the crackle of magic in the air as they stared one another down, a deep growl rumbling in Balinor's throat raising the hairs on the back of Hunith's neck. Irritated, she grabbed Balinor by the arm and pulled him back down to sit.

"Stop it!" She snapped. "Both of you!"

Priestess and Dragonlord blinked at her in surprise. She continued, annoyed, "the pair of you are behaving like children! What good would it do to come to blows and destroy each other? Where would that leave Merlin? I can raise him, but I know nothing about magic. Where would the hope of Albion be then? All because the two of you insist on bickering over the past. Nimueh," she fixed the High Priestess with a hard stare, "Balinor is right. To take revenge would make you no better than Uther. Vengeance is what began the purge in the first place. To react with more vengeance would do no good. It never can.

"As for Merlin, he will stay here with us. You are welcome to visit him, but if I catch you trying to turn him against anyone then so help me I will turn you out of my house so fast your head will spin. Am I clear?"

Nimueh did not answer. She simply blinked a moment, astonished. Did this woman not know who she was speaking to? Of course she did, and it did not matter a jot. Hunith was not afraid of her, and would question her just as Gaius always had.

Hunith turned to her husband and hit him a hard slap across his chest, "You, grow up, calm down! Merlin is under no threat. We are having a discussion. That is all."

Balinor stared at her a moment in awe, quietly flushing red. Hunith pressed her lips into a thin line, and shook her head slowly with a vicious glare. Balinor looked away, but still looked more than a little flustered.

Hunith took a deep breath, and returned her attention to Nimueh. "Now, where were we?"

The High Priestess took a moment to compose herself, both to banish the shock of having been told off by Hunith of all people, and to prevent herself from crowing with laughter at the embarrassment on Balinor's face. She made a conscious effort to turn her mind back to Merlin. "Balinor is a talented magic user, but he cannot teach Merlin what he needs. It is my duty as a Priestess to teach him."

"As Balinor has said, he does not need to be taught. Magic comes naturally to him. What he needs is guidance."

"Which can be provided on the Isle of the Blessed."

Hunith shook her head good-naturedly. "You cannot provide all that Merlin needs, Nimueh. Either in guidance, or in training."

Nimueh looked affronted. "What do you mean by that?"

"He is not only a warlock, my Lady," Hunith reminded her gently, not meaning to offend. "Merlin is also a fledgling Dragonlord. More than that, he is a young boy. Soon he will start becoming a man. Both of these things he will be better off with his father's guidance. To teach him of his heritage, and in helping him to decide what kind of man he wishes to be. Tell me also – assure me that you would love him as we do? That he would be able to rely upon you for that. While one day he will be grown, he is at present only a child, and requires love and reassurance in order to grow and flourish. More than anything, I want my son to be happy. Without those things, he will not be."

For a long moment, Nimueh regarded Hunith and Balinor. She noted the way they held one another's hands on the tabletop. Hunith did not look worried, while Balinor clutched her fingers so hard his own turned white, his jaw working so much he appeared just short of chewing through from the inside of his bottom lip.

As little time as she'd had to observe Merlin, Nimueh had taken note of what she could. The way in which he had greeted his father and clung to his mother made it very clear that he was a part of what she saw in front of her now. What Hunith had said was true. All that she knew of Dragonlords she had learned through her friendship with Balinor, and study of ancient texts written by those who were not of the Dragonlords themselves. Balinor's people did not write their history down as others did. She knew nothing either of the needs of children. Her own needs as a child had been addressed differently to those in the villages of Camelot as she had been raised on the Isle from an infant. Merlin's life there would be very similar to the way hers had been: a life of study and dedication to magic above all else with little time allotted to play. It was with a start that she realised that the first she herself had known of real play had come after her move to Camelot. When Balinor, and then Uther befriended her.

She glanced at Balinor and Hunith, and felt a pang. She could lie. Reassure them that she would love Merlin as her own son. She doubted that she would be able to fool Hunith. She was damn certain that she would not be able to fool Balinor. Never had she successfully been able to lie to Balinor. Even so, they had no intention of allowing her to take Merlin. Not willingly. To steal him away would not be worth it. To have both Uther Pendragon and the last Dragonlord hunting her till the last of her days was simply abhorrent. Merlin would never be happy, and while that truly was the least of her concerns, what if it made him rebellious? If he truly was Emrys, then she may not have the power to keep him in check.

Hunith had said, however, that if Merlin remained with them she would be welcome to visit. Stealing him away would make her the enemy, but to become a welcome visitor would make her his friend...

She glanced at Balinor, and felt her resolve soften. It would be good, after so long alone, to have a friend once more.

She had not come with the intention of taking Merlin back with her at all. She had most certainly not come with the intention of turning perhaps the last person who did not hate her guts against her. With an internal sigh, she realised that she should concede defeat.

"I cannot promise you these things."

Hunith nodded once, firmly. "Then I could not possibly let my baby go with you."

By the look on his face, Balinor wholeheartedly agreed.

Nimueh did not press the issue further.

Emrys would grow up in obscurity in this village in the middle of nowhere, then? A simple peasant boy with little to his name. Destiny was a strange thing. As the Goddess had seen fit to give Emrys to Hunith and Balinor to raise, so had she seen fit to make Arthur Pendragon the Once and Future King. In time, no doubt the two boys would meet. It had been foretold, after all. When they did, the golden age of Albion would be set in motion. Until then, however...

"Thank you for your hospitality, Hunith, Balinor." She turned her gaze on the Dragonlord, who huffed and crossed his jaw, chewing at his cheek in that ridiculous universal show of displeasure of his*.

"You're a pain in the arse, Nimueh," he told her flatly, not able to look at her.

"I adore you, too, Balinor." Perhaps for now the Druid was right. She should turn her focus from vengeance and avoid the dark path that led only to sorrow, and allow herself to hope. The Druids believed Merlin to be Emrys, as did his parents. Perhaps it was time to let go of her hate and allow herself to properly mourn the dead? The past could not be changed, but the future lay ahead, uncharted. With so few of her kind remaining, perhaps it was time to enjoy the company of friends long thought lost?

Hunith was oblivious to her thoughts as she and Balinor appeared to communicate in some form of silent exchange, though no magic appeared to be involved, before Hunith rose and crossed to the door of the small house. As she went, Balinor fixed Nimueh with a hard stare.

"I want you to promise me,"

"I want doesn't get."

He repeated himself, irritated, "I want you to promise me that if Merlin shows you what he can do – something small, nothing else – you will leave him be."

"What of visiting him, as Hunith said?"

Balinor squeezed his eyes shut a moment, fighting to keep his composure. "As Hunith has said. You will not however, in any way interfere with him. Do you understand? You will let him alone to live his life as he chooses. Is that clear to you?"

The High Priestess inclined her head. "Perfectly clear, my Lord."

He did not appear entirely convinced. Nimueh did not find herself surprised. She had once seen Balinor's own father turn his dragon loose upon those who had threatened his son. Should such overprotectiveness not already be in Balinor's nature, then she knew that he would have taken his cues from a very dedicated role model.

His stare unnerved her, so she turned her attention on Hunith where the woman stood in the doorway calling her son to her.

Merlin defied all expectations of a powerful sorcerer. As before, should she have been looking for Emrys in this place by appearances alone she would not have found him. Small and thin, with the unfortunate curse of his father's ridiculous ears, and about as steady on his feet as the last of the majestic Dragonlords, he appeared more strange than special. Quite what she had been expecting, she was not sure of herself. She did know for certain that this little boy was not it. The way in which he immediately took his mother's hand, and gestured for her to bend low that he could whisper in her ear showed him as far more timid than one would expect of a child his age, let alone the most powerful warlock ever.

His whisper was more of a hushed question, and as such Nimueh caught it.

"Am I going away?" His high voice quaked.

Hunith drew her son into a fierce embrace, shaking her head hard. "No, my love. No," she assured him, the child clinging to her for dear life. "Lady Nimueh is not here to take you away. She has only come to meet you."

"Why?"

"Because... because she is a dear friend of your father's. They knew each other back in Camelot. When she heard that he had a son, she wanted to come and meet you, and congratulate him. That is what friends do."

"Oh."

Hunith sat back on her feet, looking Merlin over with what Nimueh could only think was pride, and identified what was perhaps a little of elation in her next words. "She wanted to meet you because of your magic, too."

Merlin turned his head to stare at Nimueh with wide eyes, his expression fearful. She forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile in return. Hunith went on, holding her palm to his cheek to turn his attention back to herself,

"When she and your father lived in Camelot, she held the position of Sorceress to the Court. She looked after all the people with magic in the Kingdom. She is also a High Priestess. You know about them."

Merlin nodded. He must have been educated by his parents, Nimueh supposed.

Hunith smiled, and nodded her head gently. "So you see why she wanted to meet you?"

"Because my magic is special."

"That's right, love."

Merlin glanced at Nimueh again, most of the fear having fled his face, though he did not smile. Nimueh wondered perhaps if there was something about her he did not like. Had he somehow sensed her intentions, despite his not being in the house? Inwardly, she shook her head at herself. That notion was foolish. He was only a child.

"She would very much like for you to show her your magic," Hunith told Merlin gently, "if that is alright with you."

The boy studied her face a moment, searching for any sign that she was not serious, before looking to his father.

Balinor nodded, though he still did not look pleased about it. Merlin turned his eyes back on his mother. "Alright."

Hunith murmured 'okay' under her breath, and rose to send him towards Balinor with a gentle push.

Nimueh watched Merlin run to his father to be picked up and sat on his lap at the table, despite being too big, really. The change in Balinor as he wrapped his arms around his son was immediate, his prickly demeanour falling away to leave a softness and warmth that went far beyond his usual manner.

"Do you want to do this?" He asked his son in a low tone, brows drawn together in uncertainty.

Merlin looked at Nimueh, still appearing a little unsure himself, but nodded nonetheless.

Balinor did not look completely happy, his jaw working a moment, but conceded. "Something small, alright, boy?"

Merlin nodded, and turned his head to stare at the table and gnaw on his fingernail.

Nimueh felt a smile tug at her lips. Was the little warlock shy?

"Hunith." Balinor directed her towards a candle sitting in a painted clay holder on the nearby bookshelf. Hunith fetched it and placed it on the table before Merlin, and took her own seat once more.

The tension in the air was almost unbearable. Nimueh forced herself to be patient, and not push Merlin. He appeared nervous, having an audience, and took his time. She would have to sit still and appreciate that, however much the anticipation was killing her. How foolish, for a High Priestess to be so much on the edge of her seat, waiting for a child to perform magic. When his blue eyes flashed gold, she was not disappointed.

She did never forget that first sense of awe that came from feeling Emrys' magic as he lit a candle with only a thought, or the wonder that held her as that same candle's flame rose from the wick, shaped itself into a dragon and roared, all on the whim of a small boy.

As much as she had told Hunith otherwise, she surprised even herself with the affection Merlin inspired in her as her visits passed and he came to know her as his aunt Nimueh. He was truly a special boy, befriending all he met and always ready with that bright grin of his. Her time in Ealdor itself always felt like a blessing, the days she spent tending the hens with Hunith and practising magic with Balinor almost like the carefree days of her youth in Camelot.

And then Prince Arthur re-entered her life.

When the Lady Morgana came to her on the Isle, pleading for a way to save him from the bite of the questing beast, it was almost too good to be true. She knew very well what Morgana would become. Already 'Gorlois' daughter' lived in uncertainty, where the cracks of doubt split her confidence and struck fear into her heart. Nimueh thought that she could use her volatile temperament to her advantage without lifting a finger. Indeed her appearance there would have been too good to be true, should the name Morgana spoke once told the price for Arthur's life have been the one Nimueh had anticipated.

Tauren was a small time thug who lusted after treasure, and squandered his own gift in the pursuit of it. To exchange his life for Arthur's was rather satisfying. As for Uther's life...

Meeting Arthur for the first time as she visited the Valley of the Fallen Kings was a new day in many ways. Oh, he was arrogant as his father, and what Merlin would describe as a 'prat', but the good qualities he possessed were plain to see where they tried to hide just beneath the surface. He was very much the other side of Merlin's coin. She saw it as no hardship to offer her assistance, or to watch after his safety now and again. That boy truly had a way of attracting trouble. Yet seeing his tentative acceptance of magic grow, despite Uther's teachings, was more than reward enough.

At least to begin with.

Arthur was not yet ready to assume the throne. Not without Emrys at his side. But Merlin had yet to leave Ealdor.

Hunith and Balinor's fledgeling showed no sign of flying the nest for his destiny in Camelot, and why would he? Destiny had yet to call, and in a haven so idyllic as Ealdor, surrounded by friends and family, why should he?

Nimueh could be patient. She prided herself on playing the long game. While she doled out guidance and advice to the young Prince each time he came reluctantly searching for it at her font, and as much affection as she bore the boy, her considerable patience was at last wearing thin waiting for destiny's call.

She had been called arrogant, that first time she visited Ealdor in search of hope, and as much as she may refute it, there was no denying that it counted as one of her failings. Whatever the Goddess' plan, surely it could be brought to fruition a little more quickly?

Destiny was a funny thing, she recognised. Even as she hefted the stolen sword of a fallen Knight of Medhir in her hands. That a fellow Priestess should provide her with this opportunity even as Arthur cultivated the first and greatest enemy of his Camelot. The golden eyes watching her from above spoke of many things, vengeance and destruction included. She knew that there would be a price for meddling, but her considerable patience had finally run out. As great a plan as the Goddess may have, sometimes – just sometimes – destiny could do with a helping hand...

Τέλος

* Personal Headcanon. She was entrusted with such an important relic as the horn of Cathbadh, after all.

* In one of the deleted scenes from series 4 Morgause recalls the Isle before it was attacked to Morgana, and describes the beautiful hallways as teeming with women. Again headcanon where only women were permitted on the Isle except for rare instances where high-ranking Catha Priests were allowed to join feasts during festivals and such.

* Link to 'Peed off Balinor' video on my profile. I bloody love John Lynch's facial expressions XD

I always thought that Nimueh didn't mean to kill Ygraine. I sort of imagine her as incredibly arrogant in her youth, and over confident in her magic and abilities, and having performed the spell for Uther without a full grasp and understanding of the magic required, or just thinking that she was above it, and Ygraine ending up as collateral damage. I find it all the more sad that way :( I wondered if her path would change at all with intervention early on the same as Balinor's did during this story...

That's a wrap. I'm sorry it's late. It's not been the best two weeks, and no matter how I looked at this I felt it needed more polish. Excuses aside, thank you all so much for staying with this and hope the bonus chapters were enjoyable and answered some questions here and there :) The encouragement and feedback I've had writing this have been absolutely wonderful. I can't thank you guys enough! XXX Thank you!

See you around!