Nimue was preparing herself for the Imbolc rituals when she felt a shift in the Magic. Tiny. Yet impossible to miss for even the least sensitive, as though the whole of nature was holding its breath. She suppressed the shiver that ran down her spine, she could not afford to be distracted now. The wind chill vanished as the breeze itself ceased, the stillness around her near complete. Once she would have rushed to her scrying bowl, but with Uther's death squads roaming freely, she had to remain focused, every festival, every sacred occasion, there was a greater danger to her people. If she spent the rest of her life trying to atone for her part of events she would never wash the blood of her friends from her hands.

On the other side of Camelot, just over the border in Essetir, a woman laboured and cried out to the goddess, accompanied only by one woman whose own son she had safely delivered not long ago.

Hunith breathed deeply, rocking her hips, head dropping to her friends shoulder, tears disguised by the sweat that slid down her body. He should be here with her, and instead she had no idea where he was, Balinor didn't even know he had fathered a child. Her child. She could feel how close she was to meeting him. She remembered that much, a dragonlord's firstborn would always be male, her hand went to the necklace he had given her when they were handfasted.

That was one mercy at least, with her bearing a Beltane baby after handfasting the community would accept him enough to share food, at least in years without famine

If she had not been locked into that sacred state of all birthing women she might have noticed the blanching of her friend when she looked out of the hut door, intending to fetch more water to boil. Might have asked why she decided not to leave the house.

She could never have guessed the cause as the spirits of the murdered Dragon Lords gathered around the tiny hut, taking a defensive stance with swords drawn, protecting those within. Invisible until one got close enough to pose a threat to their last heir and his mother, but as real a threat as they ever had been in life, and abroad when they should be locked behind the veil. They seemed at ease and on guard for now.

Hunith's friend daren't mention it to her lest it cause her to panic and obstruct her baby's safe arrival. Birth was dangerous enough for women like them.

Despite her fears, it was just before midnight that Hunith finally delivered a tiny, squalling boy, with a shock of thick, dark hair, smaller than most but with good lungs, and eyes that made her heart constrict.

Instead of the standard dark blue of most babies in their village his burned golden, and her joy was shot through with agony. She held him close and put him to the breast before her friend could notice, she hoped.

The tears that slid down her cheeks could almost be attributed to elation and relief.

If she had any sense she would smother him in his swaddling, and claim a tragedy.

Ealdor might not be in Camelot, but it hadn't stopped Uther crossing the border in pursuit of her Balinor.

She gazed down at the babe she had borne and knew in that moment that she could never do it, she would protect her precious child with her last breath. She would teach him how to run, to lie, how to fly silently through a forest. A tiny hand grabbed her finger, banishing any doubt. Her little dark one would need a name. Not a family one she decided, nothing traceable, nothing to link him to his heritage unless…

Hunith smiled, he would never settle in one place, and she would give him wings, her Merlin.

Despite the chill, and the food reserves being stretched at this time of year Merlin thrived.

When unusual things would happen in their home William's mother would carefully not notice, and Hunith swiftly grew skilled in hiding such things. When she had to work in the fields Hunith carried her son like any other baby, always hoping that he wasn't trailing enough magic to aid her own crops noticeably. He began to babble, as all babies do, and yet even she could hear that it sounded different to the others, as though he was learning a different language, but it surely wasn't obvious. When he discovered how to 'fetch' things with magic Hunith stopped taking him out unless it was absolutely necessary, she stopped allowing anyone else to watch him as the risk was just too high.

It was at these times that she felt anger at Balinor's absence. She carried the burden alone, and having no magic of her own was unable to help Merlin the way she wanted to, instead always having to teach him not to use, never to tell, not to let anyone see, and Merlin tried. Such a sweet child, but he always wanted to help, and the magic simply spilled from him, like when the wood was too wet to light, and no-one had heat, and when he grew too fast and there was not coin for new clothes. It was hard not to notice that a shirt he had outgrown visibly suddenly fitted again when he caught his mother trying to work out how much of her own skirt she could afford to lose.

The final straw though was the witchfinder who came through the village when Merlin was three winters old, the purge was in full swing then, and Hunith was sure the only thing that kept the villagers mouths shut about her son was that news travelled ahead of the brutal man- including the fact that he razed to the ground any settlement found to harbour magic, killing anyone who had taken sup with the 'criminal'

Merlin was hidden deep in the caves, in a place Hunith had prepared before he was a year old, in case they had to run.

Will's mother came to her the night they finally left, once the boys were sleeping quietly in their bed.

She knew that it was the last time she would see the woman she considered her closest friend.

"I'm sorry Hunith, but that was too close. He was in every home, they even checked the food stores. There's something very strange about Merlin, and I ain't gonna tell anyone, don'cha worry 'bout that, but if it comes down to between Will and Merlin…" She trailed off, voice breaking. Hunith hated that she understood.

"I'm sorry, so sorry. Just… find somewhere safe. For both of you. I swear I won't tell anyone, not ever, but there's...there were one or two in the village thinkin' different." She reached out and placed her hands firmly on Hunith's shoulders. "I love you, but you need to run, and you need to run fast." She drew her friend into an embrace and with lips next to her ear almost breathed the words to not be overheard, "Your son.. I never told you, you were already so scared, he's protected. Right from the start there's been someone watching over him. I don't think they plan to stop now."

Hunith forced herself to release the other woman. Drawing her hand quickly across her face to brush away tears that threatened.

"Well, best get busy then, if I have an early start tomorrow. The crops are already sown, you look after them and the fruit is yours. That William's a growing boy. I'll miss that rascal." She glanced down, "Thank you Edith, for the warning, and the hope. Go now, you will always be a sister to me, however far we run."

The dawnsong was strange to Hunith, in that it sounded exactly like every other day, and she knew that this was not any other day. She had packed her meagre possessions efficiently during the night, got travelling food ready, taking only what they would need, though there was not much left over, and leaving the sleeping mats and dishes. It looked just enough as though she expected to be coming back that the less suspicious might believe she and Merlin had been attacked in the woods, or captured by the witch-hunters. Safer to be believed dead than searched for.

Merlin woke with the first light spilling over the horizon, as he always had. Sleep apparently was optional for her son. She was glad of his infectious smile, and tried not to betray her tension to the perceptive little boy as they ate their last breakfast in Ealdor.

Moving quickly would be difficult with a young child, and without magic there would be no way of avoiding leaving a trail, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave a trail of magic, it would have to be a game for Merlin, to move as quietly and smoothly as they could through the forest.

Knowing the forest as she did Hunith guided Merlin easily to the caves she had made her preparations in, when she reached it however she was met with an unpleasant surprise. Nothing of her provisions remained, there was evidence of a fire and ashes where blankets and cloaks ought to be, and the stored food was gone. Pushing the impulse to cry away hard as she felt thin arms around her legs, Hunith silently thanked the Mother for her friend's warning. Only those local to Ealdor knew the tunnels they used for shelter from brigands and Cenred's men, someone they knew had tried to sabotage her, someone who knew how hard it was to buy new blankets and furs, who knew true hunger. It was a declaration. An act that threatened their survival without remorse. Someone who she had lived alongside and broken bread with wished them dead, and she would never know which one. It solidified her decision to run and not look back.

Too young to understand the implications, Merlin wanted to explore the caverns, he was always happiest surrounded by nature, as though a slumbering part of him came alive. Sometimes Hunith wondered if he wasn't more like the faye than the serfs in their little village.

Managing to calm him enough to sit still, in the shadow of a tall elm tree Hunith handed him a little of the bread she had brought knowing they couldn't afford to stop for long, especially when someone so clearly wished them ill.

She took none for herself, uncertain how long it would be before there would be more, and was reaching towards Merlin when a shadow fell across them and her hand went instead to her belt knife as she stood, expecting to be met with either bandit or witchfinder, shocked when instead she saw the figure of a druid, holding his hands out, palm up in a gesture of peace.

"You shouldn't be here, friend. Uther's men are too close."

The druid's lips quirked upwards. "Greeting Hunith, mother of Merlin, it is an honour to meet you both. We are safe now, but they are indeed close, and we cannot afford to linger. I have been waiting for you both, our Elder Saw your need. Come. Let me show you to our camp. It is heavily warded, and your questions can wait until he is safe."

Nodding, Hunith gathered her son to her side and signed to him that they must be quiet and follow the druid. Merlin put his finger to his lips and grinned, skipping ahead to grab the druid's hand. Mother said to follow him, and Mother never let him do dangerous things, so the new man must be safe.

The sun was setting as they reached the edge of the camp, and Isildur had carried Merlin the last hour of the way their druid guide had covered their trail with a little magic, though he tried to use a minimum to avoid drawing unwanted attention to them. Some death squads had traitors working with them for coin, and it was risky, but a boy 3 winters old could not move silently or carefully for long.

Merlin, who had been dozing against Isildur's shoulder immediately perked up as he caught the scent of stew over the fire, and looked over to his mother questioningly, receiving a nod, knowing how quickly food could vanish he scrambled down and over to the hearth, though Hunith was relieved to see him minding his manners. She didn't particularly want to have to apologise to a matriarch within the first ten minutes of their being there, especially without knowing how long they were welcome for. She was not born a druid, and Merlin certainly wasn't either. Perhaps they could teach him to hide his magic though.

Isildur turned and faced her, looking serious.

"No. No, we will not teach him to hide it. That teaches him only to live in fear of himself, to believe the lies that he is a monster, unnatural. In trying to protect the boy you would break him. What we will teach him gladly, and delight in aiding, is control of his power. To master it so it does not master him, to be confident in his goodness and humanity. The abilities Merlin has… well, you already know that he is special, but I do not believe you understand just how rare. I know his father, Hunith. Who he is. What he is. And what he will one day bequeath Merlin. You know what he will inherit. Merlin is a creature of the old religion." Hunith began to hyperventilate, maybe this was a mistake after all, her son was not some creature, a wild thing to be tamed.

Isildur sighed, drawing into a large tent, allowing the door to fall closed. "You misunderstand me My Lady. Merlin is not some animal, but his soul and his essence are linked to his kin deeply. He is a Warlock, Hunith, and his magic is not merely a toy, he cannot pick it up, put it away, shut it inside himself. It is his life force in the same way that the dragons live by magic. You would not deny that they have sentience or emotions simply because of what they are, or accuse the High Priests and Priestesses of abandoning their humanity by becoming a part of it. If you cannot accept it in your son then he will never accept it in himself, and that fear of himself and rejection will damn us all. We do not tell you this in order to frighten you, but because we believe you are strong enough to love all of him and to endure. The goddess would not have chosen you otherwise. We are not offering to raise your son. That is your destiny and yours alone. What we offer is protection, and shelter, and an education that he needs desperately. My Lady, we wish only to help. It is your choice to make, but if you reject teaching him what it is that he sees and lives, he will one day tear apart the fabric of reality trying to hold it together. Many have Seen this. Deny him the understanding he needs and he will unmake the world without even realising he's doing it. Help him, and he won't only be a good man. He will be a free man, loved in truth."

Hunith's head spun. How could her son be all that this druid said? Surely if Dragonlords weren't human she would have known, Balinor would have told her- or maybe he wouldn't. He left to protect her after all, did he think he was protecting her by his silence? Hiding hadn't protected her, delaying telling him of her pregnancy hadn't protected them. How much freedom had Merlin truly known yet, when every time he was frightened something exploded or burst into flames?

It was too much, her head was spinning, and she hadn't slept for more than a few hours in a week, had barely eaten with the threat of scarcity hanging over her as surely as their hunters.

Hunith sank to her knees as her vision became patchy and suddenly there was an old woman, tiny, and armed with a walking stick standing in front of her and scolding Isildur as though he was a miscalctrant child, until he dipped his head, looking shamefacedly at Hunith and mumbling an apology to both woman as he left, following the old woman's gesturing to the opening.

The crone knelt down beside Hunith and proferred an aromatic tea which Hunith recognised as a restorative, and accepted with a rueful smile, calming a little as she heard Merlin's muted giggles from the small fire outside.

"Bloody men. Idiots, the lot of them." Merlin's mother smiled as she heard the fondness mix with exasperation. She knew exactly how that felt.

"Can't say I disagree there."

The druidess chuckled. "No, I don't suppose you can. My name is Aine, I'm one of the elders here. Do please forgive Isildur, he has waited a long time for this day, and can be a little overwhelming sometimes. He is usually far more reserved and less… well, less annoying. He encountered some trouble before finding you and was concerned for your safety. It doesn't make him less of an idiot for such a lapse in courtesy or self control. Not even serving you tea or showing you to a sleeping area to settle first. As I said. Bloody idiots." Her smile gentled her words as she reached out to grasp Hunith's free hand.

"You are our guest here for as long as you wish, Despite Isildur's impatience I do not expect you to make any decisions tonight, or indeed tomorrow, you do not yet know us and I respect your caution. Especially in light of your recent betrayal. What I will need you to do is be willing to pack up and travel, as it is unsafe for us to stay in one place for more than a few nights right now, and we are too close to Camelot's border for comfort."

Hunith nodded, grateful that the older woman seemed to understand. "And you think Cenred is any kinder to his subjects."

The druidess snorted, "I think that Cenred would sell his own mother for a cask of ale without remorse, and the man is a sadistic, self serving egotist. For now his lands are still less dangerous for us than Uther's. Not safe. Just… Ugh, that man would allow certain people to live simply to piss off Uther. The enemy of my enemy and all that. We intend to reach the forests of Nemeth though, since the Mad King has given his forests over to bandits and common criminals in hopes that they will kill us for him."

Hunith was still as she considered their options. "You certainly have the measure of the man there. Though having lived under him I doubt his idea of 'letting them live' is particularly better than being executed."

"No. I suspect not, or Merlin's father may not have left the kingdom."

Hunith was grateful that the name went unspoken. Knowledge was a dangerous thing in these dark times.

"Come, I will show you to your sleeping place. All meals here are shared. Come to me if you have any questions at all. I would like to have Kara begin teaching Merlin tomorrow what is safe to gather, and what is unsafe to eat, she is responsible for that aspect of children's learning as she has the most training in that area. It would help him to catch up to the others his age."

Others. Merlin could have more that just Will. He'd need someone to distract him and be a friend. It was a moment of clarity for Hunith. She could leave them and keep running, just her and Merlin, hoping to find a village where they could live quietly and without notice, they could try to find Balinor to help Merlin without knowing where in the five kingdoms he was, or they could be a part of a community, still running, still hiding, but not alone. They could help Merlin learn control. Isildur's assertions kindled a fury inside her, she would never harm her son, but they also gave her a sick feeling of guilt and fear. It didn't matter. She was his protector, and remaining with the druids for now did not mean they must stay with them forever. She had once sworn to teach him to hide and to run, perhaps this was the gods way of answering that oath.

She didn't see the satisfied look on Aine's face when she turned and led the way to a small tent, considerately placed to the side of the main group. Two sleeping mats were placed ready, an adult one and a child's, both with warm blankets in a deep green colour. The camp was small, it had to be, but for the first time in years Hunith felt truly welcome, and it flooded her with a warmth she hadn't even realised had been missing. She felt lighter.

Hunith looked over to where her son sat with another boy, looking up at a young man who was telling them a story and saw the wonder on Merlin's face. No man had ever been happy to include him in family activities, and she knew she couldn't rob him of this. She had to at least give them a chance.