Why Is Freedom Foreign?

by tangled_madness

Summary:

After the events of the druid spirit, Arthur had been contemplating the subject of magic. But fate has deemed that he may need a final push to reach his conclusion. So when a young girl accused of magic shows up at court, Arthur and Guinevere decides to follow her. What revelations will they find? What secrets will be unfold? And what does Merlin and Emrys has to do with all this?
-
Takes place after season 4 episode 10, the Herald of A New Age.

There are slightly graphic descriptions of wounds and such. There's not a lot but some people might find it a bit squeamish.

ON HIATUS.

Notes:

Basically an excuse to write about Arthur learning everything Merlin's done for him. I might take some time to update this since I'll be back at school and have another book to work on as well.

Chapter 1: The Girl and the Arrest of Truth

Ever since the incident at the druid shrine, Arthur had put a lot of thoughts into wondering if magic really was evil. Was it truly a force that corrupts? But then why would there be healing magic? Healing was surely good, right?

But then there was the voice at the back of his mind, sounding oddly like his father, whispering to him: Magic is evil. It corrupts even the best of men. Do not let it fool you.

Every time these thoughts collided, it caused an internal turmoil. If magic was evil, then he had failed his father by allowing the druids back in Camelot after Morgana's last invasion. He had brought evil to the heart of his kingdom. But if it wasn't.... If it wasn't, that meant that he had helped slaughtered innocent people. Hundreds upon thousands of them. Their blood would be on his hands. He had sent them to the pyre.

The thought would promptly made him sick and resulted in a headache.

Arthur was having one of those said headaches when the door of the throne room unceremoniously burst open. Guinevere jumped next to him, his Queen turning towards the commotion.

Two guards were dragging a young girl in front of him, her ragged brown dress stained with blood. It dripped freely from her wrists where the skin was scorched by the iron manacles as though her very being were repulsed by it. That probably wasn't far off since he knew that they had spikes lined inside of them. She was kicked onto the floor.

''What is the meaning of this?'' Arthur said in his best 'King' voice, trying to conceal his anger. His eyes flashed dangerously at the cruelty that was presented before him. Cruelty such as this was inexcusable, especially in his own kingdom. ''Why have you brought this girl to me?''

''The girl confessed to a great evil sire,'' one of the guards said, spitting out the word girl as though it were a vile venom. ''We brought her to you to be arrested and burnt for her sorcery. The pyre will be ready for her tomorrow.''

Arthur's eyes narrowed. Was the idiot cruel or just arrogant for making such assumptions?

''And may I ask why she is wearing an instrument of torture?'' His voice was calm but those who knew him could sense the underlying hint of danger there.

''I -it was our only resource to bind up her m-magic at the time s-sire,'' the other guard replied, catching on to the anger that somehow managed to elude his companion.

Despite Uther's laws, he had yet to deal with many cases of sorcerers, especially children. Therefore he was unfamiliar with the inhumane treatment that they received once caught. He has some ideas, but Uther had failed to mention how he had given orders for the guards to beat the sorcerers at the merest excuse. Or the fact that they should be tortured through any means possible, as long as they would still be alive to face the pyre.

''Take that monstrosity off her now.''

The guards hesitantly obliged although they clung onto their weapons more tightly afterwards. Everyone apart from those that knew him well was shocked, even the pale girl on the ground.

Arthur felt sick; her wrists bled freely now, the skin twisted and raw. They were peeling off in some places, revealing the crimson flesh underneath. He was certain he looked as green as his wife on the throne.

''What is your name?'' Arthur addressed the girl who looked barely more than fourteen summers. There were scandalised gasps from the courtiers around him.

''Alane.'' The girl looked shocked as the name tumbled from her lips; she clearly hadn't been expecting to be able to speak at her own trial. This did nothing to help his headache or his already rolling stomach.

Despite the initial shock, Alane held fear and determination, a lot of determination in fact,  behind her tone. It was the same tone that he himself used many times before, when he was going into battle and wasn't expecting to come out alive.

''Alane, do you plead guilty?'' Arthur prayed for her to deny these accusations. To tell them no. To say -

''Yes, I plead guilty.'' Her words left no room for arguments. The fear was gone, only a fierce protective determination left, though Arthur couldn't understand it.

Arthur slumped down on his throne. There were only two outcomes now. The executioner's block. Or the pyre.

''I see. And what was she doing with said sorcery?'' he said tiredly to the guards.

''Making things float sire. She confessed immediately after we spotted her.''

''Immediately?''

Both guards smirked. ''Probably too scared of us.''

Arthur noticed that Alane's jaws tightened at that but said nothing. He came to a decision.

''Well then, if Alane has nothing else to say to this, I suppose-''

''Dawn,'' the dark-haired girl interrupted.

''I'm sorry?''

''Let me go until dawn. I have...things to clear up before I am gone.'' The guards shook her roughly for interrupting but she continued, ''Just until dawn, please. To go home unescorted for one night. Just until dawn, then I will return to face execution. Please. There are matters that I need to take care of so I can have a clear conscience.'' The before I die went unsaid but it was visible in her wide hazel eyes.

This was a first. The sheer desperation behind her words left him unable to deny her. If this was her dying wish, then it was a harmless one. It wasn't as if she could escape during the night anyway. There wasn't enough time.

''Yes.'' Arthur held up a hand to stop the outraged squawks of protests.

Alane visibly sagged in relief as he guards dragged her away.

-------------------------------------------------------------

''We can't let the sorcerer run around free!''

''She's been living here for fourteen years. She hadn't done anything yet. And how much harm can she do in one night?''

The argument had been going on for hours now and, frankly, he was getting bored. It was the same questions and the same disbelieving cries. You'd think by now that they'd be bored and would finally give up. Apparently not.

Arthur allowed his mind to wander. The girl - Alane. She had been so young, too young in fact, for her life to end. He knew that there was a pyre ready to be built as soon as the lumbermen arrives with the wood. Was making things float evil? Why was she using magic to make things float? Wait-

''Why was the girl using magic to make things float? Surely that isn't something to be worth getting caught for?''

The room fell silent. This was the first time a sorcerer's motive was called into question.

''Indeed. Why would she learn magic for such a useless task?'' Lady Helena mused. She was one of the more sensible courtier, her intelligence well-known and her fury a thing to behold. She also show kindness whenever possible which made her one of Arthur's more reliable ally.

Whispers broke out but then Gaius said, ''It is my guess that her powers had only manifested and she hadn't quite learned how to control herself.''

Wait...that makes no sense.

''What do you mean by 'had only manifested'?'' The room was silent now, waiting with baited breath for the answer. The implication of that. It was huge and judging by the way Gwen was holding herself, she could see what Gaius was suggesting as well. But that was impossible surely?

Gaius was silent for a moment as though he was unsure of how to continue. ''Despite what your father led you to believe, magic for some, isn't a thing to be learned. The average person can study how to use magic but can't use anything more than your minor household spells and perhaps some weak healing charms without tiring or killing themselves. Those powerful enough to attack and cause serious harm or to defend themselves, like Morgana and the sorcerers that attack Camelot, were born with the ability. These gifts usually shows up during adolescent.''

Gaius said this as though he was merely prescribing a potion although there was a hint of caution beneath it. Like this was something quite obvious and had not just flipped Arthur's world upside-down.

Everything went still as he absorbed the information. No. Surely Gaius couldn't be suggesting....? Blood was pounding in his ears as his headache once again flair up with a vengeance. Magic was something that you can be born with. Magic was a natural ability. Good Goddess. The horror consumed him as he suspected it did for Gwen, judging by the way she stiffened. He had killed innocent people for how they were born. Had killed children for something they couldn't control. Had left children orphaned. Wives and husbands widowed. Parents children-less. Oh gods. And the Druids, their blood were on his hands. How many times had he blindly followed his father's orders? And for what?

Judging by the shocked faces, he guessed that many of them had not known. Strangely, Merlin wasn't among those. He stood beside Gaius entirely unsurprised, though he had a funny look on his face. He was going to have to investigate later.

''H-how many of you had known?'' Arthur asked when he was finally calm enough to speak.

A few of the people in the room raised their hands, most were those that were here long before the Purge. Merlin also hesitantly raised his hand.

''Merlin?'' he said disbelieving, although that explained the nonchalant look from before.

His manservant shrugged, ''Magic technically isn't illegal in Escetir. Cenred used to take young children from the villages and enslave them for his personal army if he thought that they were starting to show signs of magic ....'' He said all this sadly yet accepting as though it were the way of the world. It also seemed like he was going to add more at the end though had decided against it. Arthur was going to throw that idiot in the stocks once this was over. The thought calmed him a bit. But not enough.

''And none of you thought to tell me this?'' he snarled, anger slowly washing over horror. He tried to reign it in. The ones who had known shared meaningful glances, and stared at him, or more specifically, his throne. Ah, right. They had thought he would be like his father. A single whisper of the word 'magic' and then you would end up on the executioner's block. And that was if you were lucky. Even his best friend - not that Arthur would tell Merlin that - had thought so. Apparently.

''Court dismissed.''

The room started to empty, many still numb from the revelations. Gaius paused to give him a meaningful eyebrow which he barely noticed. As soon as they were gone, he slumped down and rubbed his forehead.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Collapsing onto the bed, he could see Guinevere slowly closing the door as his head whirled. Goddammit! He had sworn to protect his people, and yet, there were those out there that feared him. Feared him for how they were born. What kind of king was he to be so blind?

''Arthur.''

''Gwen. I-I don't know what to do anymore. I killed them. Innocent people. And children - I killed innocent children. What does that make me? Those sorcerers were right. I am a tyrant like my father.''

She sat down on the mattress beside him, ''It is not your fault. Your father lied to you and hid the truth. You were doing what you were taught was best for your people. If you want to blame someone, blame your father. He was the one who started it. The sins of your father is not yours to bear.'' Her voice was hoarse and trembling from unshed tears but she wrapped her arms around him, a steady anchor.

''But it doesn't wash the blood off my hands! And that girl...she's barely older than a child and she already looked at me like she was going to her death. If a child had learned to be scared of someone who's sworn to protect them, no wonder those sorcerers want to kill us. What kind of monster am I?'' Unshed tears pressed against his eyes as he furiously blinked them away.

''Enough Arthur,'' Gwen told him sternly, ''you are not to blame. The only thing we can do now is move forwards and right the wrongs committed. Beating yourself up won't change the past.''

He paused because she was right. Then he came to a decision. ''I want to follow the girl, Alane.''

Gwen looked at him in the eye then replied, ''I'm coming with you.''

''No. Absolutely not. You don't know what dangers there will be in the middle of the night!''

''I can look after myself. Besides, I want to see the side of magic that we have been ignoring for too long, which - I suspect - is also your reason for wanting to go.'' Her tone told him that any argument would be useless.

He sighed.

''Fine.''

------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the dungeon's door open, Alane took a cautious step out. Then another. No warning bells yet. She took another step. Still nothing. When it became clear that no-one was going to stop her, she broke into a run, the worn boots hitting the cobblestones lightly as it did a thousand times before. Only this time, it may very well be her last. 

In her haste, she failed to notice the two cloak figures following her.

Alane was surprised she was even allowed this one final trip. She'd thought that she would have to claw her way out, tooth and nail, for even a second before the pyre would be lit. Judging by the outrage of the Blood King's followers, they had thought so as well.

But the Blood King's son - Arthur Pendragon - had been deemed merciful enough to allow this last trip. 'Mercy', she snorted at the thought. She doubt that any of those foul nobles even knew what the word meant. After all, they hadn't been merciful when they turned on their friends during the Great Purge - or the Slaughter as those with magic had came to know it. They hadn't spared the people that they had called 'friends' from the pyre nor any of her kin, turning on them without a thought.

Truthfully, she suspected that they only allowed her to do this because they didn't think that anything could slip past their precious guards and escape the city. She scoffed slightly at the thought. If only they knew how wrong they were. Alane had to make this plan succeed, otherwise she would consider the pyre a mercy if it fails.

She darted through the empty streets, a sense of familiarity washing over her as she dashed towards the run-down shack that she called home. Although she knew that it didn't really matter now that she was going to burn anyway, it was a force of habit to glance around to make sure no-one noticed her. It wouldn't do any harm to be cautious.

Her hand reached out to open the worn wooden door. She slipped inside and the door slammed shut.

The plan has to work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur and Gwen quietly followed the girl after she was released from the dungeon. They were both hiding behind a stack of barrels, both disguised with cloaks so that they wouldn't be recognised by the patrolling guards. They weaved through the dark, narrow streets, keeping the young girl in sight but making sure to not alert her of their presence.

Alane's footsteps were light and quiet yet nimble which suggests that she was used to running in the shadows. Arthur supposed she was, seeing as she was living in a place where she could be executed for how she was born. The thought caused his chest to ache, guilt filling him. She slipped around a corner and they tailed her, keeping slightly behind as to remain unseen.

However, when they turned around the corner, there path was empty, with nothing out of the ordinary except for the half-closed door that had light spilling out from it. Guinevere marched up to it and glanced through the gap; he quickly followed suit. There was no-one there: the run-down shack was empty, showing no sign of anyone apart from the single glowing candle on the table. It would appear that the girl had gone elsewhere before they got here, presumably to fetch something.

''Looks like it's empty for now,'' he heard Gwen whispered to him.

They stepped inside.

It was small and cozy, a single space to work as a kitchen, a workspace and a bedroom like Gaius's chambers - though without the spare room. The inside was dim, lit with only the candle to give it a mysterious warm glow. Against the far wall to his right was a row of barrels which had ragged pillows on them, obviously a substitute for seats, as well as a small sack of grain. There was a cot in the corner, undoubtedly where the girl - no, Alane - slept, the material worn and thin with tears along the edges. Shelves lined the wall opposite him, filled with jars of an assortment of herbs and potions that could rival the Court Physician's though some had been smashed (by the guards he presumed). Underneath the collection stood a table where the candle lie. Parchment and quills scattered themselves upon it with ink spilled all over. Some of the papers, he could see, were filled with a delicate handwriting; the others had drawings and scribbles as though made by a curious child.

Suddenly, there was a frightened whimper coming from the room though slightly muffled by something.  They had no time to ponder on this however, since at that exact moment, the familiar light, nimble footsteps reached their ears, growing closer and closer to the door from whence they entered. Before Arthur could come up with an idea to get them out of trouble, Gwen grabbed his wrist and dragged him behind the barrels and sack of food, ensuring that they could observe the room without difficulty but not be seen. They crouched on the floor, their cloaks sweeping behind them.

Not a moment later, the door banged open.

Arthur sent a grateful glance at Guinevere for her quick thinking then peered through a relatively large gap in front of him to observe the newcomer. It was Alane. She had ditched the ragged brown dress in favour of a clean shirt and a pair of trousers. Her messy chestnut curls had been placed in a neat plait though she was still covered in blood at her wrists. In her right hand was a traveler's pack, in the other was a poultice.

''Let's hope this works,'' he heard her mumbled to herself. 

She strode towards the table and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, standing ridiculously close to where Arthur was crouching centimeters away. Fortunately, Alane was completely focused on whatever she was writing to notice. He could see her clearly from this position and she looked entirely too old and tired and determined for someone so young, her dark hazel eyes that had seen too much for a child her age. Arthur's heart clenched painfully. This was his father's legacy. The legacy of the Purge. Children forced to live in fear, having seen too much and moments away from execution.

The abrupt end to the scratching of a quill forced him to look up. Holding the piece of parchment in one hand, she carefully placed the poultice over the flame and started chanting in a foreign language. It was the language of the Old Religion. 

''ðætte stæf hand ðâs attraction with pron ðe ic friclan (send this message to those I seek)''

A chill crept over him as he watched Alane dropped the parchment into the flame which was now glowing a bright green. She seemed satisfied as the remaining bit of paper burned up though it left no ash. What was that supposed to do? It didn't seem like an evil spell and it served no purpose apart from burning up a piece of parchment without leaving a mess. Arthur was sure George would be delighted at having learnt such a spell existed since he seemed to despise the ashes that would go over all the brass. But what purpose did that have now of all times?

The young girl then reached for a piece of clean cloth from a shelf and began to hurriedly cleaning her wounds. Close up, it was even worse than he had thought. Chunks of flesh was peeling off as though she'd put it through a grinder. Arthur tried not to vomit. He noticed that she hadn't done anything to heal it; she was only cleaning the blood away as though she wished to appear non-threatening. He filed the observation away. Seemingly pleased with her work, she placed the now bloody cloth away and walked over to the cot. Her expression saddened at the sight, her eyes growing somber. Carefully, Alane pushed the cot away to reveal-

A trapdoor. Arthur heard Gwen's breath hitched.

''Well, he's getting a bit too big anyway,'' Alane said, her voice filled with regret and guilt as it wobbled slightly. She was trying to hold back tears he realised. The trapdoor lifted open at that moment and he heard her called out with false cheer, ''Charlie, wake up now! I'm back!''

The hatch fell away to reveal a bundle that jerked awake quickly. It was a boy that was no older than six summers. Gwen gasped beside him, her body heat giving a sense of comfort as it always did. It was clear that, even at only six years old, the boy had undoubtedly been used to having to wake at a moment's notice. Something inside him ached at the thought. 

''Al'ne?'' the small toddler - Charlie - called out.

Charlie was clearly the girl's brother: he had the same dark curls and the same determined eyes though his were emerald green. He stared at his sister carefully for a second before reaching out to grab her wrists.

''You're hurt,'' he stated simply as though this happen all the time before his eyes glowed gold. This time, he was the one who gasped instead of Gwen. The wounds began to close up slowly, the muscles knitting together as the skin covered it again. There were still cuts but it looked nowhere near as serious as before. All this done with just a golden flash. If Arthur hadn't been having doubts about the evilness of sorcery, he certainly was now.

Alane pouted playfully at her little brother, ''I could have done that. You baby me.'' She carefully lifted the boy out of his cramped hiding place. 

''It's alright, besides, it makes my itching go away for a bit.''

Arthur had no idea what the toddler was talking about but it seems his sister did.

''Does it still itch?'' she asked him with concern, her brows furrowing with worry.

''A little bit.''

''Right, do you remember what we have to do?''

''Find a safe place where no-one can see.'' Charlie said easily as if it was something that had been ingrained into him.

''Then?'' his sister prompted, smiling slightly.

''Then we let out the magic slowly so it won't hurt anyone.''

Oh. That's what they were talking about. Then the guilt came back full-force. It hadn't been as bad when he found out magic was something people could be born with, he'd thought they could still stop using it. But now. Now it appears, that you have to use it, otherwise it would hurt you. Guinevere's hand grabbed him tightly and he nodded a thank at the show of support.

''You can let it out now.''

Charlie smiled and then cupped his hands together, his eyes glowed gold and a small fire appeared in his hands. It turned into a unicorn and a dragon and the fire figures nodded at each other like this was a play. Alane soon joined in with a knight and a princess. The figures danced together in a strange sort of rhythm. The knight took the princess and they swirled together with the unicorn and dragon.

How could his father think that something that could be so beautiful was evil? The child inside him marveled at the pure innocence of it, Gwen was the same, her face filled with awe. The light faded out and he mourned the lost.

''Come on up now Charlie,'' Alane said gently, ''out of the trapdoor.''

''But you said it's not safe outside! That there are big bad knights in red capes who want to burn people like us!''

His sister was trying to conceal an look of heartache. Arthur was horrified. Was this how children see his knights? Men who had sworn to protect them yet will ultimately be their doom, the monsters under the bed that will drag them to the pyre the second they step into the light. Gwen's eyes were shiny as she batted away tears.

''But I also said something else didn't I?'' Alane smiled at her brother though the smile did not reach her eyes. ''I said that one day you can go outside and people like us won't be hurt anymore. That one day you can run around in the sun all you want and play with other children like you.''

Charlie nodded slowly.

''Well today is that day!'' Her brother may be fooled but Arthur could hear the falseness of her enthusiasm.

Charlie beamed. ''Okay, let's go then!'' He got up excitedly.

''But for tonight you have to go quietly and in secret. Tomorrow you can run and play . There will be a big camp with lots of children like you where you never have to stay inside again. You can play with your magic as much as you want.''

He grinned happily then frowned. ''I'll have to go quietly?''

His and Gwen's eyes widened as they waited for an answer. This boy was obviously smart. Alane's false cheer wavered before disappearing completely.

''I can't go with you. You will never be able to see me ever again.''

They could see her from behind the barrels and it was obvious that she was trying to stay strong for her little brother.

''No! Is it because I'm bad? Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to use magic earlier! I just lost control! Please! I'm a monster, please!''

Hearing such a small boy call himself a monster caused his heart to break. His vision blurred and, out of the corner of his eye, he could see tears falling from Gwen's eyes.

''Of course you weren't bad!'' Alane sounded horrified, ''You are not to blame. Promise me to never apologise for using magic again. Promise me.''

''I promise.'' Charlie looked shocked as though he truly believed that a fundamental part of him was wrong.

''There you go.'' Alane hugged him and buried her face him his nest of dark hair. The two adults watched them, their hearts cracking into pieces.

''Are you going to the place where mam and pa went?'' Charlie asked suddenly. ''To Avalon and the Lady of the Lake?''

Avalon and the Lady of the Lake. The land of the heroic dead and its guardian he realised.

''Yes.''

Charlie gripped her in a death grip until she said, ''And don't you ever call yourself a monster again. If you do it again, I will make sure that mam won't make your favourite soup when you get there with us.''

''But I can ask the Lady of the Lake and Emrys!'' he grinned cheekily.

''Then I'll box your ears.''

A sudden knock on the door ruined the playful mood immediately. Alane leapt up and pushed Charlie behind her then approached the door silently. She opened it to reveal-

''The prince's manservant,'' Alane said with disgust to Merlin the idiot. ''What do you want? Has the Blood King's son decided to go back on his so-called mercy?''

Arthur blanched at the way she sneered when she referred to him.

''No. My name's Merlin and I'm here to help.''

They stared at Merlin from their hiding place. This was Merlin yet not Merlin. Gone was the bumbling idiot, there stood a sure-footed man. This Merlin looks...powerful.

''And what can you help with?'' Alane sneered, keeping Charlie out of Merlin's eyesight.

''The druids called out to me with mindspeak. They said you sent a message, calling for help with, what I assume, one of their messaging poultices.''

So that's what the strange flame and the burned parchment was all about. It was a very useful form of communication but that still doesn't explain why Merlin was here.

''And how do I know I can trust you?''

What they saw next toppled everything in Arthur's life over. Merlin's eyes glowed gold, brighter than any gold Arthur had ever seen, and a blue butterfly emerged from his palm.

Arthur shared a shocked look with Gwen. What? No, surely not? Instinctively, he reached for his sword only to remember that he had left it behind in his chambers. Shit.

''I was born with magic, just like you. I'm here to help. I've been smuggling innocent sorcerers out of Camelot for the best part of five years now. You can trust me.''

He felt the sense of betrayal rose inside him. First Morgana, then Lancelot and Guinevere, then his uncle, and now this. Was he destined to spend his life surrounded by liars? Morgana lied, Agravaine lied, Gaius lied. Even his own father lied to him. He'd thought Merlin was the only honest person in his life. It would seem not. He almost ran to Merlin then and there to confront him but Guinevere squeezed his hand. Hard.

Arthur looked over to her. Guinevere shook her head. Fine. For now, he would watch and hopefully discover more about this secret life that his manservant apparently has.

''Emrys,'' Alane whispered disbelievingly; he couldn't understand why. It was the name Charlie mentioned earlier. What was Emrys? Some sort of code among magic-users? What did that have to do with the land of the dead? The girl was still wary but then she said, ''Come in then.''

How could she trust the manservant so quickly? Sure, he might be a fellow sorcerer but he had also worked for the King for many years. How could she be sure that the boy wouldn't betray her?

''Thanks,'' Merlin replied before tripping over Charlie's foot. So the clumsy idiot hadn't been false then. Was everything else? Was their playful banter false, just a mask to keep the true Merlin safe? He heard Gwen snorted in amusement at seeing Merlin laying on the floor face-first.

Merlin got up and noticed Charlie. He grinned that happy grin of his. ''Hi.''

''Why have the druids called you?'' Alane demanded, all business now. ''They know the prophecies, if you are caught, magic will never return.''

Prophecies? Magic returning? What does Merlin have to do with that? The confusion almost rivalled the betrayal. Almost.

''I know all the secret passageways and when the guards have their shifts. And I insisted on helping escaping sorcerers ages ago. We can get you two safely out of Camelot and you can stay with the druids for as long as you need to.''

''I won't be going,'' said Alane with a hint of steel underneath.

''Why? You're going to die if you stay!''

''I know. But if I suddenly disappear, those followers of the Blood King will try and hunt us down. It is better this way. At least Charles will be safe. And I will only prove to them how untrustworthy sorcerers are believed to be if I were to run.''

''And you're prepared for that?'' Merlin exclaimed incredulously with a careful look at both siblings.

''If it means Charlie will be safe. I will not have him hunted by knights.''

Merlin nodded, the sympathy clear on his face. Arthur admired the girl's bravery even though it pained him to have to listen to a child preparing to give up their life to keep their family safe.

The door was knocked upon for the second time tonight.

''That'll be the druids,'' he heard Merlin whispered. The door opened and three hooded figures entered the room, making it slightly crowded. 

One of the druids pushed his hood down to reveal an elderly man, ''We got your message.''

''You once offered my brother and I a place at your camp, Iseldir. Does the offer still stand for Charlie?''

''Of course. We help all those who are in need. May I ask what changed your mind?''

''Either an axe or a fire will be in the courtyard tomorrow morning,'' Alane told the man - Iseldir -  with a glance at Charlie. His eyes widened and his companions gasped. There was pity on their faces.

''They've chosen the fire,'' Merlin said quietly. Alane look at him with a determined look in her eyes that seemed slightly resigned.

''What happened?'' a druid woman asked.

''Someone in high places saw Charlie did something that can't be explained. I took the blame.'' She announced the last part fiercely as if she was waiting for someone to say otherwise.

''You have a good heart Alane, much like your father.''

Alane's eyes narrowed at the mention of her father but she said, ''Look after my brother, I can't lose him as well. Especially to the flames.''

She kneeled down in front of Charlie and told him softly, ''They're going to take you to the nice place I told you about, you need to follow them when they leave, okay?''

Charlie nodded with wide eyes. ''Is it the place where I'm going to be free?''

''Yes,'' Merlin answered the bewildered child.

Alane's brother turned and looked at Merlin. ''What's being free like?''

Arthur squeezed Gwen's hand as he felt his heart shatter. Gwen mirrored his devastation. This child, who should be carefree and happy and a million other things, had no idea what freedom felt like. He felt like an idiot for not realising this sooner. Of course he wouldn't have known what freedom felt like! He lived in Camelot for goddess' sake. He and his Queen held their breath and waited for Merlin's answer.

''I don't know. I've never been free either.''

And that just smashed his heart into a million pieces again. Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes while they streamed down his face. Any feeling of betrayal was gone now. Gwen was also crying silently, looking at her friend with sympathy and heartbreak. Arthur understood. Merlin had always been the definition of freedom in his mind: he was outspoken, never caring about proper etiquettes or status; he was reckless, always so ready to stand up for what was right and defend Arthur; he was always insulting Arthur with a layer of affection underneath; and he was always so annoyingly cheerful. 

He had never expected Merlin to not even know what freedom felt like.

''I can tell you all about soon if you want!'' Charlie said enthusiastically.

''Lord Emrys, we must hurry if we are to make it out on time.''

Merlin inclined his head in acknowledgement, ''Yes, of course.'' He then turned to Alane and said, ''Do you have a travelling cloak of any kind for him?''

''Here.'' She handed him a small travelling cloak that was in remarkably good condition if a bit worn.

Merlin held it out in front of him then chanted, ''onstellan tôhwon cnihtcild ungesýne lôca in beðeccan hêo âsettan teosu (make this boy unseen and protect him from harm)'' There was a flash of gold then he placed the cloak onto Charlie. ''I've placed an enchantment on it that will make him unable to be noticed by anyone that can harm him. It will wear off in a few days. I've given you the knowledge you need to get out. Good luck Iseldir, Fiona, Gerlerf and Charlie. I will visit soon,'' he told the elderly druid.

''Thank you Lord Emrys.''

Emrys, that name (because that's what it must be) again. Who was Emrys? And why are they calling Merlin by his name?

''You're Emrys?'' Charlie said in awe.

''Yes?''

''You're the Consort of the Lady of the Lake, the guardian of Avalon!'' Charlie told Merlin excitedly. 

Wait. What?

Merlin was married...to a goddess?

''Yeah.''

Merlin was married to a goddess. And just when he thought his manservant couldn't get any weirder.

''Can you tell the Lady of the Lake to make sure Alane get to mam and pa when she go to Avalon?''

''Yes. I promise I will tell Freya that.''

Charlie beamed and then pulled his hood up. He followed the druids outside along with Merlin and Alane. His sister hugged him tightly.

''I love you Charlie,'' Arthur heard Alane said.

''I love you Alane,'' Charlie replied. And just like that, they were gone, leaving only Alane and Merlin behind.

''I love you more,'' he heard the girl whispered after Merlin had closed the door.

She pressed her back onto it and slowly slid down, seemingly unaware of the manservant standing a few metres away. They watched Alane faced the opposite wall, crumpled and devastated. Suddenly, she collapsed, her knees hitting the ground painfully while she registered exactly what she'd done. Arthur saw her became numbed, looking blankly at her injured wrists. This was something he'd seen many times before, men who'd returned from battle, mind dulled before the horrors caught up with them.

Out of nowhere, a scream tore itself out of her, the devastation clear for all to see. He watched as she pounded on the floor, her torn wrists split open, blood trailing down her arms. He saw her begging for something, anything. A whirlwind of magic surrounded her making parchment and quills dust whirled furiously while she begged for her family. Tears poured down his face and he looked at Guinevere. She was crying even more now at the sight. 

She pulled him into her arms as they saw Alane fell apart in front of them despite Merlin trying to move closer and comfort her. The young girl howled at the lost of her family, screamed and raged and begged. She begged for the Goddess to give her back her family. Merlin finally managed to reach her; he wrapped his arms around her to hold her as she broke.

''NO. PLEASE! Oh gods please, just let me stay with Charlie please. Let me protect him. Please, please just let me protect him. Let me keep him safe,'' they heard her sobbed into Merlin's arms. The determined façade was gone. This was not the girl who had fought the king for a last night to keep her brother safe, nor was it the girl who stood confidently in front of the druids and demanded that they protect her brother. No. This was the girl who was all alone in the world, unable to trust anyone for fear that they would toss her one remaining  family to the pyre. This was the girl who had to raise a young child all on her own and had never known anything but fear.

''Why can't I protect him? Why? I failed them, I failed my promise. I failed my parents. I couldn't even keep my family safe and now no-one's going to protect Charlie,'' Alane cried quietly, sounding so full of self-loathing and despair. The magical whirlwind had finally died down while Alane curled into herself with Merlin holding her up.

''You haven't failed,'' the other warlock told her gently.

''I have. I can't even stay alive to protect him. I failed him. I failed him. I-I failed him.''

''You haven't failed. You protected him and I promise I'm going to try and look after him when I visit,'' he heard Merlin told her gently. ''Because if you've failed, then I've failed too.''

Failed at what?

Alane apparently had the same thought too because she sniffled and said, ''F-failed at what?''

''I'm going to tell you a story, a story about me, will that help you feel better?'' Merlin replied, not answering the question.

''Maybe.''

He saw his manservant smiled. 

''That's good enough for now.''

The girl was still silently crying, with tears streaming down her face but she had calmed down enough.

Merlin, apparently noticing this said, ''See? Now you can listen for a bit until dawn.''

''A long time ago, there was a dragonlord and a king. They were friends until, one day, the king wanted a child. His wife, the queen, couldn't conceive so they went to the High Priestess Nimueh, a trusted friend of the court, to ask magic for help. They were warned that the price would be heavy as magic demands balance, a life for a life. But the king didn't listen. So when the queen died at the birth of the prince, the king went mad with grief and declared that magic must be banned.'' Arthur, with a joint, realised he knew this story. It was the story the ghost of his mother had told him. But Merlin said that it was a lie. Merlin had said.

Merlin had lied. Evidently. But maybe it was just an interesting story? He hoped so.

''The Slaughter,'' Alane whispered shakily wiping away her tears. ''The beginning of the Slaughter of our kin.''

It wasn't just a story Merlin made up by using their adventures for inspiration then. Merlin had definitely lied.

''Or the Purge as the king called it. The dragonlord watched as his kin was slayed, one by one, but he went to the king he once called friend and begged for the bloodshed to stop. The king agreed but then betrayed his once friend. The last dragon was captured and chained with the Old Magic underneath the castle, forcing Balinor, for that was the dragonlord's name, to flee.''

Arthur startled at the familiar name. How had Merlin known this about the dead dragonlord? It wasn't as if they had enough time to exchange life stories. They had barely known each other. But there was a closeness in that short amount of time as well, and Merlin's devastation after the man's death.

''Balinor fled to a small village outside of Camelot, a village called Ealdor.''

What?

''There he fell in love with a woman named Hunith. That woman is my mother and they were happy.''

Balinor and Hunith were in love? But that would mean-

''He was my father. They were living in peace, until Uther, or the Blood King as our kin know him, came after them. My father was forced to run again, leaving his wife behind. He didn't know that my mother was pregnant with with me.''

Merlin was Balinor's son. Balinor was Merlin's father. An unbidden memory came into his mind and he recalled his own words 'No man is worth your tears'. He'd said that to Merlin after his father had died. A wave of horror washed over him. 

''My mother said that the moment I opened my eyes, they were gold for at least three day before turning blue. I couldn't control the magic back then so I wasn't allowed outside until I was five because I needed to learn some control. There was always the risk of Cenred's or Uther's men coming; my mother had to drug me sometimes in case my magic decided to try and protect me when I was scared.''

''So you grew up like almost every magical child then. Like Charlie and me.''

The warlock's eyes were stormy. ''Yes.''

Horrified, Gwen and Arthur shared a glance. Almost every magical child. Almost every magical child. There were children out there who had to be drugged just so that they can stay alive for at least the past two decades. Drugged and hidden to ensure that they wouldn't be burnt or drowned or slaughtered. The king wanted to throw up. Guinevere was green in the face.

''It was hard because I had my magic since birth instead of developing it later like most people. You can't exactly tell a babe to stop using something that's naturally a part of us,'' Merlin chuckled humorlessly, his face wistful. ''I grew up thinking I was a freak, a monster even. And being the village's bastard didn't help. The other kids would either shun me or try and kill me in one of their 'games'. They tried to drown me, hang me, beat me to death and even threw me in a snake pit once.''

Bile rose in Arthur's throat. To him, it had always seemed like the younger boy had had an ideal life for someone of his status. A simple life with a loving mother and friends every step of the way, and luck handed to him on a silver plater. Never before had he thought that Merlin had been abused or wronged greatly. But of course he had. He was a warlock and a bastard for goddess' sake, living in a place that hated both of those things. A place that hated him for the way he was born, for something should make him special but instead was reviled. Arthur clamped a hand over his mouth and bit on it, the pain preventing him from jumping up to the two sorcerers and blowing their cover. 

''...Execution was the first thing I saw in Camelot,'' continued Merlin, making the young king realised that he had missed some of the story while occupied with his thoughts. ''My mother had sent me to Gaius so he could help me control the magic. I was supposed to keep my head down not made into a manservant for the prince. Arthur was a real prat when I first met him. He was throwing knives at his servant. I stood up to him and got thrown in the stocks for it. So naturally, when that cryptic old dragon told me that it was the clotpole's destiny to bring magic back to the lands and that he's the Once and Future King, I almost laughed in his face,'' he chuckled fondly, eyes sparkling.

Dragon? The beast can talk?

''Dragon?'' said Alane, echoing his thoughts.

''Yeah. The stupid lizard kept on sprouting nonsense about how I'm Emrys and it's my destiny to help the prat unite Albion and usher in a Golden Age where everyone is happy and free.'' The warlock's voice turned bitter, ''What he didn't tell me was how many would've died for that so called destiny.''

Merlin spat the word destiny out with so much venom it disturbed the two royals. Never before had they heard their idiotic friend with anything but cheer in his voice even when all hope seems lost. It chilled him how little he truly knew about his best friend.

''Will, my childhood bestfriend, died because I had thought about staying in Ealdor. Freya, my one true love, died by Arthur's blade because I was selfish enough to want to run away from destiny. My father died because I was too much of a coward to use magic before the sword reached him. Morgana betrayed us because I listened to Gaius and that manipulative lizard. I could've helped her when she first discovered her magic but I chose to remain in the shadows and pushed her towards Morgause.''

He listened as Merlin blamed himself for everything. How did he not notice that his friend was hurting in such a way? How had he not seen the despair and self-hatred? Arthur spun to Gwen who was wearing an expression of guilt and despair at the warlock's words.

'Did you know?' he mouthed at his wife with a plea in his eyes.

She shook her head, every move showing guilt at how much the goofy young boy she had met years ago was hurting.

''So you haven't failed Alane,'' their friend told the girl softly, the two sorcerers sitting side by side on the dirty floor. ''You protected him.''

Alane looked up and nodded though the doubt was still evidence.

She said, ''Thank you Emrys.''

A bright grin lit up Merlin's face, wiping away any sign that something was wrong. If they hadn't just witnessed him moments before, they would've fallen for the goofy grin. Which made Arthur wonder, how many times had he been fooled the same way?

''No problem. But please, just call me Merlin.''

A comfortable silence descended on the room. The two magic-users sat next to each other, lost in their thoughts. Arthur and Guinevere watched the peaceful scene from their hiding place.

''Is it true?'' the young girl said, breaking the silence.

''Is what true?''

''My mother was a druid, Emrys. She told me the prophecies. The prophecies of Albion and the Golden Age. Is it true that the Blood King's son is the Once and Future King? That you are the other half of his coin?''

''Yes. Arthur is the Once and Future King.''

He had heard Merlin called him that before. The Once and Future King. Before, he'd always thought that it was some nonsense; but now, apparently there's a whole prophecy about it. A prophecy that he didn't know about. A prophecy that Merlin knew.

Alane snorted slightly at that, ''The irony. The son of the biggest magic hater is destined to bring about the Golden Age of Albion and return magic to the land.''

What? He was destined to return magic? His stomach dropped as a thought occurred to him. Had Merlin only stayed out of duty? Had he only pretended to be his friend out of some hope in a prophecy about what Arthur might do? He didn't think he could bear it if that were true. Looking up, he saw Merlin's expression darkened slightly.

''I'm not sure I believe it anymore. I've nearly given up hope really. Every time I try to get Arthur to see the good magic can bring, another magical threat comes up and prove to him that magic is evil. And now he's so convinced that magic turned his sister evil that he can't see the real reason.''

With a pang, he realised that it was true. He'd blamed magic for Morgana. He'd blamed it for turning the kind girl he knew into the hateful person she was now. But what was the real reason?

''The real reason?'' Alane said, curious.

''Fear. Complete, bone-racking fear of herself and all those around her. She was so afraid of Uther finding out and being burnt at the stake, so afraid that she was truly evil and the monster everyone thinks she is that she became one,'' Merlin informed sadly. His eyes held a deep sorrow Arthur couldn't guess at and, most of all, understanding. ''Morgause was the first person to offer her understanding that she jumped at the chance to finally feel safe. Me poisoning her didn't help with her loyalty towards Camelot either.''

He tried to imagine the fear that Merlin described. Tried to imagine what it must be like to be so afraid of yourself and all those around you, not being able to trust even the closest friend to not hand you over to the executioner. The tiny bit that he got out of imagining it scared him. Living in such a way scared him so much that his mind repelled the thoughts. If only thinking about it scared Arthur, what must Morgana have felt? It was no wonder she turned to Morgause.

''I can't say I blame her either. I know what she felt because I've been living like that for as long as I can remember. The only thing that's keeping me from following her and burning this place to the ground is my loyalty to my friends and Arthur.''

Bile rose in his throat. Merlin, goofy, cheerful Merlin lived in fear. His friend lived the life that terrified Arthur just to think about. Gwen mirrored him as she paled, no doubt reaching the same line of thoughts that he had. How had their friend not collapsed already from having to live that terrible, terrible life? How could he carry on knowing that even in his happiest moments, he would always be scared?

For the first time since he met the boy all those years ago, he finally understood him. Why he was always cheery, and ridiculous and tried to live so freely and completely. Merlin had to because in a world where he could die at anytime, he had to seize the opportunity to be happy because any moment might be his last chance to do so. He had to act free because that was as close to freedom as he ever could be. He had to be ridiculous and cheery because he didn't want any regrets when he finally die because that's what he'd been taught from birth. Taught that he could - would - die the moment he was truly himself.

''Emrys... Do not give up hope. I can sense the future is not far. You are not alone. Your kin will be here for you. The spirits of those who died will believe.''

Merlin smiled, his eyes sparkling, ''Thank you. It's been so long since anyone understands.''

As soon as he said that, the castle bell started to toll. Arthur cursed colourfully under his breath, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Gwen. The young girl stared at Merlin with both dread and determination before getting off from the floor, her lean form trembling slightly. The manservant followed suit.

''Emrys?''

''Yeah?'' he saw Merlin glanced at Alane. ''Can-can you make the fire less painful? I would rather not take the chance that my brother could here me scream out mentally,'' she stared at the floor avoiding eye-contact. Arthur was impressed; even when she was going to her death, she still tried to protect her brother.

''It's the least I could do.''

The dark-haired girl smiled in gratitude and walked over to open the flimsy door. 

''I'm coming mam. I'm coming pa,'' the girl whispered sadly.

She stepped outside and Merlin soon followed, slamming the door shut and leaving the couple behind with conflicting thoughts about what they had just witnessed.

Chapter 2: The Fear of The Noctaire

Summary:

Morgana is coming.

Notes:

Sorry for the short chapter and the long wait. I've been quite busy recently. And writer's block is a bitch. I hope you enjoy!

As they headed back to the castle, Arthur barely noticed Guinevere's presence. He walked in a daze through the nearly empty castle, letting his feet carry him through the almost empty corridors. It was almost dawn so the patrols will be returning soon to give him their reports. But he didn't care about that. Thoughts and emotions whirled inside his head, each more and more confusing than the last. His father was a liar, a murderer who committed genocide to cover up his own guilt. Who destroyed an entire people and then spread lies about then. Magic wasn't evil and therefore Morgana hadn't been inherently evil or any other sorcerer - no, he threw that notion away to examine later, it was too much to process at the moment. And Merlin - Merlin had been lying to him since the day that they had met. Lying to him through his teeth even when they became friends.

That stung him more than anything else. It hurt him more than he ever though possible, even more than Guinevere's betrayal.

Why couldn't his best friend trust him with his secret? Did he truly think that he would be executed for something he was born with? Arthur had told him things that he had never told anyone else, did Merlin not think that he could do the same with him?

Yet, even as he asked himself these questions, he knew the answer to them already. He knew why the manservant never told him about his magic.

After all, how many times had Arthur spoke of how evil magic must be, in front of the warlock no less? How may times must his friend be subjected to foul things spoken in prejudice about his own people? He still remembered when he told Merlin that magic is without a doubt evil if it can turn even Morgana wicked. It was no wonder his friend didn't feel safe enough to tell him.

The sound of the door to his chambers opening snapped him out of his thoughts. Stumbling in after Guinevere, he collapsed on the bed, not bothering to remove the cloak. 

''Arthur?'' he heard Gwen asked in a concerned voice. Arthur felt his brows furrowed as he stared up at the canopy of the royal bed.

''I don't know what to do anymore.'' 

The admittance tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to register it. He truly had no idea what he should do. The magic ban had to be lifted, he cannot keep it after everything that had happened tonight, but he had no clue how to do it. Can he keep at this war with his sister when he was part of the reason she turned out this way? But how will he fix it? Morgana was beyond reason now, or to him at least.

Never before had he felt so unsure and uneven-footed. It unnerved him to have no plan, no strategy. Even when he was in that forest after Morgana's first invasion, with no hope, he still knew that he had a goal to achieve and a duty to perform. A duty to Camelot and her people. Yet, now, how can he provide a solution when he didn't know what the goal was? How can he help Camelot's people when the majority, including himself up until a few hours ago, seemed to agree with these harmful laws? How can he do that when Camelot was the villain of the story in this? How can he accept that his father was not the honourable man he thought he was?

''I don't either,'' he heard Gwen admitted as she sat down on the bed beside him. ''But we will come up with something. And you will do what is right for your people. I know you will.''

Arthur slowly sat up and leaned onto his wife's shoulder, burying his head in the familiar feel of her. 

''But how can I make the right decision when I am part of the problem? How can I remove the magic ban when the council will fight against it every step of the way?''

''By dragging them through change, kicking and screaming, like the way you did when you knighted commoners and married me.''

He smiled. This was the reason why he loved Gwen. She supported him and let him showed his worries but would not hesitate to slap sense into him the moment he started thinking about something idiotic. Just like Merlin always did, though albeit with less pleasantries and more banter and insults. Then his smile slid right off as a terrible thought occurred to him.

''Merlin.''

A terrible, unthinkable thought. It can't be. His stomach churned at the very idea of it, but after seeing his best friend on that floor with that so very bitter voice and humourless face, it was the only conclusion.

''What about Merlin?''

No. Nononnono. He refused to accept it. It cannot be true. But how could it be false? Self-loathing rose in waves within him and crashed down with forced that none could compare with. He deserved everything all those magical beings have said to him over the years, about how he was just like his tyrant of a father. Because that was exactly what Uther was. A cowardly tyrant who ran from his own guilt. And Arthur was just the same. Tears forced their way out before he could stop them.

''Arthur, what's wrong?''

''He must've been so afraid. Of me. M-Merlin must have been afraid of me, of us all.''

As soon as he said the words, the gates crashed open, giving way to ugly sobbing. 

''He is the bravest of us all, while I'm just like my father. How could he just stand there when I tell him how evil magic is, how evil he is? How?''

Gwen held him as he cried into her shoulder. He did not care about pride or dignity: he did not deserve such a thing, not after what he'd done to the man who'd stood by his side for over half a decade.

''I don't know Arthur. But it just shows us how strong he is, to be able to defend his home when we could've turned on him without a second thought.''

''Is Camelot really his home?''

That was the question wasn't it? Was Camelot just a place to stay, a prison for him, and not the home Arthur thought it had become for Merlin?

''Of course it is! He belongs here.''

''But how can it be? Imagine what it's like to be him. Imagine that you live in a place where your very existence is a crime, the way you were born is seen as wrong. If you are ever your true self, you will a executed. Then imagine that you are friends with the prince, the son of the man who made you have to live in fear. You hear the prince tell you how evil people like you are and you can't even defend yourself. Is that place still your home?'' 

He was clinging onto her now, just as she was clinging onto him, fully realising the life that their friend lived. His Merlin who deserved so much for what he did, for how he protected his friends selflessly with a gift he was born with (for it must be Merlin who was the reason why so many magical attacks failed, why all those tree branches dropped on their opponents), yet forced to live a terribly lonely life. Forced to live in the shadows and hear all those around him spit vile things about his people. How had he not gone mad from the weight of that burden? How many times had he feared Arthur, the man who was meant to be his friend and master, meant to protect him, when he turned around? How many times had he been held awake by dreams of burning while those that were meant to love and care for him watched on?

Arthur didn't know, but he knew that the answer would be more times than anyone could ever count.

''It is,'' Gwen murmured. ''Even if he doesn't feel like he belong here, Camelot will always have a place for him.'' She took a shuddering breath as droplets of tears made its way onto her lap, staining the cloak that she had forgotten to remove ever since they entered the room. ''You mustn't take the blame on yourself, because we've all played a part in the blind prejudice. I remembered-I remembered, after Morgana's betrayal, I was upset. Merlin visited me to-to make sure I was doing all right. A-and I ranted. I ranted about how magic was a foul thing and how it took Morgana from me. I knew I shouldn't, not after the druid boy. But I was so angry, and he just stood there and listened! He didn't say a word the whole time, then hugged me afterwards to give me some comfort.''

He knew how she felt. To have unknowingly hurt the one you cared for so deeply that there might never be any forgiveness. To feel like any forgiveness you may be given would not be deserved.

''Then perhaps we should stop regretting the past,'' he told her quietly. ''Let us move forward and right those wrongs.''

He saw her smiled shakily.

''Of course.''

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They must've fallen asleep because Arthur woke to the sound of frantic knocking on the door. The bed was wrinkled underneath him as he got up, careful as to not disturb Gwen, who was also sleeping soundly. The sun had risen above the horizon by now, but from the way it was still too low in the sky, he assumed they haven't been asleep for long.

The knocking to the door grew louder and more panicked.

He stumbled towards the door, still slightly groggy from sleep in order to open it. The iron lock swung open to reveal a harried and wide-eyed Sir Leon.

"Sire- she's- been- she's- here," the knight panted heavily, terror still evident on his face. "The night patrols came back with reports near the Valley of The Kings. She  brought an army. A magical one- and I don't think they're human."

"Leon," Arthur said patiently. "Who's here?" He already suspected who but he wanted to confirm it.

''Morgana.''

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deep in the dungeons, Alane could hear the tolling of the citadel's bell. The sun was making itself known in her little cell, mocking her about her up-coming execution. There were knights running around in the courtyard outside her cell, shouting orders at the castle's guards. She pressed her head against the little window in her cell ,which provided the only source of light, in order to figure out what was going on.

''...Morgana will be here by midday. Take arms, we must prepare...''

''...An army's coming...''

''...not human...''

''...magic...''

Something niggled deep in her mind, an almost forgotten memory that she knew must be important yet she couldn't seem to grasp. What was it? What did she need to remember? 

BANG!

An explosion went off in the courtyard, the strange, blue flame left behind a clear evidence of sorcery. There were screams and shouts as the force of the attack threw her back, even though the damp stone wall remained undamaged. A nauseating smell hit her nostrils, the scent of rotting flesh mixed with a hint of apples made her gasp at the vile combination. The memory she had been searching burst forth in her mind, as clear as the day it happened.

"You must remember my little darling," her mother had told her. "Run when you see them. Run when you smell the scent of rotting flesh and crisp apples. You must always run."

"But why?" she had asked, still a little girl then, barely six winters old.

"The Noctaire is the army of the High Priests and Priestesses. Created from the darkest, vilest magicks imaginable. They are the spirits of sorcerers who died undeservingly in the eyes of the Triple Goddess. They serve only the Priests and Priestesses, no-one else, and will slay those that are deemed the enemy. Any who stand in their way will be tortured till they beg for death. The only way to stop them is if the one who summoned them will agree to peace. And there is no way to slay the dead. So you must always run my sweet Alane. Run when you smell them, that will be your first sign. Run lest you be killed."

"Yes mother."

She snapped out of the flashback, terror filling her veins. The Last High Priestess had summoned the Army of The Noctaire. The darkest and most ruthless army known in living memory. They were feared across all of Albion for the magic which they used to give their opponents a slow, and painful death. And they were undefeatable since they were already dead.

She was fiercely glad that she had sent Charlie away. At least he would be safe with the druids. Now she could only hope that Emrys could stop them with his magic. Or may the Goddess save their souls.

 

Notes:

I'm working on the next chapter. There should be only 2 or 3 chapters left for this fic.

Chapter 3: Not an update - sorry

Hi

Unfortunately, this isn't an update. I just wanted to say that this work along with others will be on hiatus for a few months. 

I am NOT abandoning it. 

However, I currently do have a lot of work to do along with a few books I need to edit and meet my deadlines for.

I am also dealing with several mental illnesses so I don't think I will be in a mindset where I can update for a while.

Apologies for the inconvenience.

Notes:

Please ignore the badly translated Old English. I know it's probably incorrect.