The beginning of the end! I don't want it to end, but all stories must, mustn't they?

Prologue

"Arise, Sir Mordred, Knight of Camelot."

Arthur smiled proudly down at the young man kneeling before him, never able to imagine before then that the small, helpless Druid boy he'd once saved many years ago would eventually become a respected knight of Camelot. Neither Mordred nor Arthur could ever forget the bravery Merlin, Morgana, and the now king had once shown in helping the young boy escape. And though Mordred had initially been drawn to her, ultimately he turned his back on Morgana to join Arthur, whose vision he seemed to believe in more than Morgana's. Mordred had proven himself to be a great and brave warrior, worthy of bearing the Pendragon crest.

Hermione smiled quaintly beside her husband, dressed in red to match him for this important ceremony, her eyes fixated on Mordred's youthful face. There was something about him... so innocent and so kind... but so very naive.

Arthur seemed convinced he could mold Mordred into the perfect warrior, one with skills to match his own, all with a few years of hard training. Hermione had no desire to crush such hopes, but Merlin had come to her in secret to share his own concerns about the young man. The two magic folk kept their suspicions to themselves, not wanting to be too quick to condemn Mordred. After all... Arthur had dealt with enough betrayal, and the pain that came with it. Better to keep a shrewd eye on things and hope they wouldn't go awry.

The ceremony was over just as quickly as it began, and the King and his Queen strolled out of the Throne Room down the corridor.

"I think Mordred has much to learn," Arthur told Hermione eagerly, "but he shows a lot of promise."

"I am pleased that you're so excited about it," Hermione said cheerfully, reaching over to grasp his hand. He smiled softly and entwined his fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb gently on the top of her hand. "Just don't throw yourself in headfirst, Arthur."

"What do you mean?" Arthur's light brows went down and Hermione worried she'd chosen the wrong words.

"I just mean..." She trailed off, fearful of arousing his suspicions. Sighing, she finished, "Give him time, is all. The poor thing's only just been knighted, you know."

Arthur smiled bashfully at this, and Hermione was relieved he hadn't thought anything more of her comment.

"You're right, of course," he agreed, amused. "I don't want to scare him off. I just... I think this is an opportunity to follow through with my promise."

Hermione glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

Arthur hesitated, and she could tell he'd squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter.

"Mordred is—was a Druid." Hermione paused, and Arthur stopped too, turning to face her. There was remorse in his features, and she easily recalled what Merlin had told her about Arthur's prior encounter with a young Druid spirit. She was starting to put the pieces together, but let Arthur continue speaking to tell her himself.

"Ever since my father first waged his war against magic, the Druids have been subject to intense persecution," Arthur told her, ducking his head in shame. "I, too, bear responsibility for many of the wrongs that have been perpetrated against them. And I made a promise to atone for these wrongs and..." He paused, lifting his eyes. "Perhaps part of me feels by initiating Mordred into the knighthood, I can prove that I am following through with that promise. That any man has the chance to prove his dedication to Camelot, no matter where he comes from, or who he is."

Hermione softened at these words. Over the past three years, Arthur had shown continuous growth, proving himself to be the very great king the people had believed him to be when he pulled a sword from a stone. Still... the idea of legalizing magic unnerved him, to her dismay.

She could not understand how he could he allow the hypocrisy of having a queen with magic when the laws still punished others for the very same thing. Even if he did not seek them out to extinguish them all as Uther had, even if he gave each and every accused person a fair trial and even those found of using magic for harmless things were sometimes spared from the harshest punishment— In the end, the laws still banned any and all magic in Camelot, and Hermione did not think that for all of Arthur's fairness and mercy, anything but undoing these laws could finally bring true peace to the kingdom.

But she could not force him to do this, and she certainly couldn't do it herself. For all her power, there were restrictions—anything she wanted to get done could only go through with his final approval. So, Hermione forced herself to pick her battles, knowing that she had to believe Arthur was capable of a true change of heart, one day. If Merlin could be patient and he was still hiding his truth, then she could wait. In the meantime, she continued to subtly attempt to sway Arthur over time, and came up with other proposals which benefitted the entire kingdom (and Arthur was happy to approve of those).

Despite the single great holdback, Hermione did see the knighting of a Druid as a major step forward. It gave her a little burst of hope that the day that magic was legalized grew closer. She offered Arthur a kind smile, reaching up to brush a little hair behind his ear.

"I understand." It was simple, and affirming. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Arthur—I know your heart. I know your intentions are good."

He seemed gladdened by her response, and perked up instantly. He leaned in to give her a quick kiss before reluctantly parting.

"Council meeting," he reminded her, and she bowed her head in understanding. Going in the opposite direction, Hermione turned the corner—and knocked right into someone.

"Oh, I'm so—" she stopped when she saw the victim to her clumsiness was Guinevere. "—sorry. I'm sorry."

She laughed it off lightly, shaking her head.

"No, the fault was all mine, Your Majesty," Guinevere disagreed politely, smiling just a little.

"No, it was most definitely mine," Hermione chuckled. "I'm sorry. Please, don't let me interrupt you, you must have been going somewhere important." One of her brows twitched; she saw a cloak over Gwen's shoulders.

"Oh... are you leaving the castle?" It was an innocent enough question, but it made Gwen tense up. Hermione noticed, but pretended not to.

"Yes, My Lady, I am," Guinevere answered honestly. "Just going to the market to buy some supplies. Shall I get you anything?"

Hermione quickly shook her head. "No, thank you, Gwen." She smiled a little awkwardly. "Well... it's a nice day out, so enjoy the fresh air."

"I will, My Lady," Gwen smiled brightly, stepping past the queen to continue on her path, her smile falling. Hermione wondered what Gwen's reaction was about, though more important matters soon rose to mind as she made her way about the castle. Meanwhile, Gwen left the citadel, passing through the market to go all the way to the edge of the forest. The journey to Morgana's hut came by rote now, and she soon knocked upon the door, doing so with a specific pattern of raps to assure the priestess it was who she expected.

The door opened, though no one stood there to open it. Timidly, Gwen entered, and jumped when the door slammed shut behind her. Morgana lounged by her crackling fire pit, having used magic to let the maidservant in. She looked up with a warm expression, gesturing for Gwen to join her. With a smile, Gwen hurried over to sit.

Morgana had a cup of herbal brew already waiting for her, and Gwen drank it heartily, to Morgana's hidden satisfaction. Over time, she had continued supplying the maidservant with a light serving of magical persuasion, which kept Gwen under Morgana's loose control. While she could probably trust that Gwen was allied to her without any sway, well... it was still better to be safe than sorry.

"It's so good to see you," Morgana said in what was a half-lie. "I've been rather lonely lately."

Certainly, she was using Gwen for her own means—she'd supplied her with plenty of lies to get her to join her side. But, admittedly, at times she felt flickers of warmth for the maidservant. These were the remnants of her affection for Gwen, something that had never quite gone away even if their friendship as it had once been was lost. It was nice to pretend that things hadn't changed, that they were the same Morgana and Gwen as several years ago.

Gwen set down her cup, hesitant to speak on something she knew would irk Morgana. "Mordred has officially been named a knight of Camelot."

Morgana hid how deeply this betrayal truly stung. After all she'd done for Mordred once upon a time, the magical bond they shared—and yet, he'd chosen Arthur to side with, the one who would see him dead for his abilities. She looked into the fire, and Gwen could tell she was bothered.

"I'm sorry," Gwen said sympathetically.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Morgana shook her head. "At least I know I can count on you, Gwen, if no one else."

This warmed the servant's heart. Still, however, it was hard to deny her yearning. Three years had passed since she'd made her deal with Morgana, and yet she felt no closer to being with Arthur again than she'd felt back then. Morgana reminded her of patience constantly, telling her it took time to build up to the feat, and that she first had to ensure the threats of Emrys and Clara could not interfere in her plans.

Gwen understood little about the entire Emrys and Clara deal, but knew not to question Morgana. However, what she did not know was that Morgana had been undertaking work related to this in secret—that she had made contact with a Druid by the name of Ruadan who could help her concerning the identities of Emrys and Clara, and Arthur's bane. In addition to this, she had plans to make alliance with the Saxons, whose numbers grew steadily and who could pose a very real threat to Arthur and his men. But what Gwen didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Morgana glanced up at Gwen, whom she could tell was downcast. She reached over to place her hand over Gwen's, offering a reassuring smile.

"I promised you I would give you what you desire," Morgana said in the softest of voices. "And I meant that. Have faith in me, Gwen."

Instantly, Guinevere felt horrible for having any doubts. The magic pulsed in her veins, only adding to the feeling. "I know... I do. And I'm sorry I did not come with more news... I haven't been as useful as I hoped I could be."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, you've been more helpful than you know," Morgana argued, bright green eyes focused intently on Gwen's. The other woman gave a fleeting smile, trying to cheer up at these words.

After a minute had passed, Morgana turned her head, glancing towards the door. Gently, she said, "I hate to cut our time together so short... but I think it best you return to the castle before anyone questions your whereabouts. But I hope to see you again very soon, and with news that will help us both."

Gwen nodded hastily before rising from her seat. She approached the door, glancing back with a tender smile on her face.

"Good day, Morgana."

The priestess tipped her head in acknowledgement and revealed a pearly white smile just before the maidservant stepped back out into the sunny day. As the door closed behind her, Morgana's face twisted with displeasure, her impatience finally shining through. If she didn't get some useful information soon, she just might have to cut Guinevere loose. It would bring her no gladness to do so, but... she would not let anyone stand in the way of her desires. She had made the mistake before... she would never make it again.