Title: Paladin 3: The Last Stand
Author: kiayea
Art: afteriwake
Series: Paladin
Series Order: 3
Prompt: WIP Big Bang 2021
Fandom: Merlin BBC, Sentinel
Relationship(s): Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Lancelot, OFC/OMC, other mentioned
Content Rating: R
Word Count: 15553
Warnings: Major Character Death, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Future fic, Dark, Past Child Abandonment, Kidnapping Mentioned, Canon Level Violence, Tragedy, Slash, Sentinels & Guides, Part of Ongoing Series
Summary: Camelot’s golden age lasted for 16 years. Arthur Pendragon and his consort Merlin returned magic back into lands as prophecy foretold. The times were peaceful, interrupted only with their daughter’s attempts at romance with the son of their dear friends. However, the threat from the past reared its head back, as Arthur’s half-sister Morgana and her lover Mordred returned from exile to take back the throne. The battle for the future of Camelot was inevitable.
Prologue
The thin walls were only witnesses to a beautiful woman working her magic. The ancient words fell from her lips, as the power gathered around the bowl, forcing the water to show her what she wished. The woman cut the magic and stared at the surface. The image in the bowl wavered, stilling at the picture of a throne room. The witch frowned darkly.
Camelot was resplendent in all of its glory; its king’s success was reflected on the faces of its people. More than a decade and half had passed since Arthur had ascended the throne and built the kingdom back to where it was before his father enacted the Purge. Nowadays, the magic was practised freely and the sentinels and guides thrived. The population was booming and the long years of peace ensured prosperity for all. It was indeed Camelot’s golden era.
It seemed she was in luck. Today was designated for the court hearings and it was one of the most tedious duties the king was required to attend. Even after more than fifteen years on the throne, Arthur wasn’t used to the long hours spent listening to everything his subjects had to say to him, from the most common complaints and disputes to serious trials. Today was one of the more boring courts. What he would give for a little distraction. At least, the complaint portion of the day was already done, so he would be able to speak freely with his private council soon enough.
“Arthur.” His spouse and guide warned patiently, even as he rolled his eyes at the purposely dense sentinel. Arthur wasn’t the most patient ruler, probably because of his sentinel nature. He was more suited to patrolling and protecting the land than the tedious paperwork and long hours of sitting on his ass and just listening.
“Merlin.” The king raised his eyebrow questioningly at his consort. The court wasn’t the best place for their banter, especially when it tended to end up in having to excuse themselves to work out the tension, even if their subjects were used to their antics by now.
“Oh, please. No. Not now.” A petulant feminine voice whispered quietly from Arthur’s other side. The young princess rolled her eyes at their antics. While it was nice to know that her parents loved each other even after more than twenty years together, there were some things she shouldn’t have to witness. And their sometimes outrageous flirting was one of them. That familiar tone of their teasing was a prelude to their banter aka flirting.
“Ava, please. Pay attention.” Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes in an eerily similar way as his daughter. The princess took mostly after Arthur – from her golden looks down to her personality. It was unfair how little she resembled him.
But her abilities, oh, that was a completely different story. In that way, Ava took after him. She was a latent guide, but it wouldn’t take long for her to awaken, considering how her intuitiveness became more and more apparent in recent months and it had, in turn, strengthened her magic. Merlin closed his eyes, feeling for her current state of being, blue lights softly sparkling on his skin before his magic retreated back. Yes, not long now. “It’s going to be your duty one day.” Merlin quietly reminded his daughter.
Ava lowered her eyes to stare at the ground. It wasn’t often her father had to reprimand her in such a fashion. She was behaving deplorably, and she was well aware of it. Oh, joys of being the only child of the Camelot king and the future ruler of the kingdom. “Yes, papa.”
Merlin nodded in acknowledgement. He hated he had to be the strict one with her, but Arthur would have let her get away with murder if he didn’t put his foot down. “Arthur?”
Gawain smirked irreverently at Merlin’s pain from the dark alcove neatly covering his presence. The princess was much too like Arthur for everyone’s peace of mind. He was eagerly waiting for the day when she would wander off and bring back a totally unsuited young man (or woman) to present to her parents as her chosen spouse. It was promising to be very entertaining and he hoped to be there when it happened. The knight winced when Merlin sent disappointment his way as if sensing his amusement even through his shields. The warlock had perfected the technique in the years he spent as the highest-ranking guide in Albion and the consort of the king.
“Let’s hear the news. Leon, please, if you could be so kind and explain the current situation to us.” Arthur waved his hand and the map of the island appeared in the middle of the table. After years of gentle guidance from his husband, he was comfortable using his magic for little things like this. Although, during the fights, he tended to prefer a feel of solid steel in his hands to deal with threats. The Camelot was a shining green jewel in the middle of the parchment with several flickering orange and red spots. Nothing too troubling or urgent. Most likely, it was only some stray magical creature wreaking havoc on an unsuspecting village, or some misguided young sorcerer trying their magic for the first time.
Arthur’s oldest friend stood up and tiredly tapped at the red creeping towards the Essetir and Mercia from the north. “There isn’t much to say, yet. I’m sorry Arthur. Right now, it’s all just rumours and some guesswork. It’s hard to decipher what’s the truth. But the troubling news is of the reported sightings of the Saxons here and here.” The sentinel pointed at the opposite locations on the map. “They are on the move. I think…” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “They are trying to surround us. To cut us off from our allies. I just don’t understand how they can move around so quickly without anyone wiser.”
Morgana. Merlin immediately sent the thought to his sentinel. I’ll bet it’s her. I sensed a familiar magical presence entering the shores of Albion several weeks ago.
We don’t know that for sure. Arthur shook his head and scowled. Morgana was too touchy subject to mention in casual conversation. For gods’ sake. His daughter wasn’t even aware she had an aunt somewhere in the world. It was a decision he and Merlin made after they took over Camelot. Uther’s daughter and her sentinel were forbidden to discuss in their household.
Merlin patted his sentinel’s hand and explained his thought process. The unprecedented and unforeseen Saxons’ moves, so deep in our territory, is clearly a work of a powerful magic-user. Most of us are peaceful beings, content with the current state of affairs. The malcontent minority, I keep a close eye on. In their case, no news is the best news. So, that leaves us with only one possibility. That Morgana is behind this. On the bright side, at least we know now, where she and her sentinel went after they were exiled.
I… She is my sister, Merlin. Arthur objected weakly. Merlin’s words rang with truth and he wasn’t allowed to ignore it.
I know. I know. The sorcerer sent soothing feelings down their bond, trying to settle his sentinel. But she is rapidly becoming a threat for us and for our daughter; if it’s indeed her behind the Saxon invasion. I haven’t forgotten, nor forgiven, her actions when she had Guinevere abducted and her threats against Ava’s life.
Of course, I didn’t forget. It can’t be forgotten. I just… The king trailed off, memories of those turbulent times swirling in his mind.
You hoped she would change. It’s alright, love. Merlin took Arthur’s hand in his and gently caressed it, finding all of the calluses on his palm with his thumb. We’ll have to tell others what we suspect. They can’t go into this blind.
Please, can you do it in my stead? I think everyone will take it better coming from you.
Merlin bowed his head and stood up, drawing everyone’s attention to him. He clicked his fingers. The map rippled and changed rapidly to show everyone the current state of magic in the Albion. The sorcerer frowned. He didn’t think the situation was so dire. The corruption was creeping from all sides, from behind the shores, slowly weakening the ancient wards placed upon the island.
Esyllt hissed like an angry cat, stood up abruptly, and poked the blackest line before she turned her attention to the warlock. “Merlin. You don’t mean…”
“It’s Morgana.” The warlock said, while he gently moved his fellow guide’s finger away from the map.
Guinevere scowled when she heard Merlin uttering the name of her once friend. She had never forgiven Morgana for her part in her abduction. Her spouse and their son followed her example, glaring darkly at the map.
The witch hissed angrily, as the image wavered and vanished abruptly, the connection lost. She waved her hand above the bowl but the vision of Camelot was lost. Her magic grew leaps and bounds in years in exile. However, Arthur’s guide was still stronger than her. She managed to see, but not hear, several council meetings, but Merlin’s magic obscured everything else. It was annoying.
Strong arms encircled her waist. Morgana sighed and leaned against the warm body of her sentinel. She hated Arthur’s success and clear happiness he found in his guide, ruling the kingdom that should be hers.
“What did you learn?” Mordred asked quietly, sensing his guide was precariously close to losing her temper.
Morgana scowled darkly. “Not much. Damned Merlin and his wards. They definitely know about our troops and I think they might be close to guessing what we are planning. I told you leaving Ulfric and his sons in command was a mistake.”
“You did,” Mordred murmured into her hair and caressed her tense back soothingly. “And I should have listened to you. No matter, I’ll dispose of them as soon as the opportunity shows itself.”
“Good. They’ve made it harder for us to proceed with our plan. Hopefully, it’s still salvageable.” She complained.
Mordred kissed her forehead gently and said. “Of course, it is. You are brilliant.”
“Flatterer.” Morgana leaned up and stole a kiss from her sentinel’s lips.
Part 1
Ava’s eyes never flashed tale-tale sorcerer gold when she was doing magic. It was the damndest thing Merlin had ever seen. The power just swelled around her, as she moulded it according to her wishes. No incantation needed. It took quite a long time for him to stop relying on the incantations but not for her. Not his amazing daughter. She was a prodigy and very powerful. Likely more powerful than him and her training was still ongoing. However, this wasn’t something he’d ever trusted anyone with. Not even Arthur knew, although his spouse was aware there was something iffy about Ava’s magic. But he’d never pressed on, leaving the entirety of their daughter’s magical education in his hands.
“Ava, stop daydreaming and concentrate.” Merlin snapped out of his reverie and with a quick gesture put out the small fire that broke out on the desk.
The young princess winced at the sharp reprimand in her father’s voice. She returned back to her project. Papa was guiding her in transforming her cup into a hedgehog. While it was more interesting than say… changing some wooden splinters to needles… it was also very taxing. She frowned thoughtfully. There was some kind of catch she couldn’t see. She did everything like she was supposed to but… Nothing. The cup stubbornly stayed in the same shape.
The sorcerer gently led Ava’s hand in the motion she did at least a hundred times before without success and explained softly. “Close your eyes and feel the magic. Yes, like this Ava.” He painstakingly went over every step again. “Slowly. And remember. You are changing a non-living thing into a living one. And look. You’ve done it.”
Ava opened her eyes and her papa was right. A perfect little hedgehog was sitting on the desk in the place of the cup. She threw her arms around Merlin’s middle. “I did it. I did it. I did it.” She repeated happily, while she looked over the hedgehog. That reminded her. “Papa? I have a question. Is it possible for a human to change into an animal and not lose themselves in its mind?”
Merlin stilled, thinking over Ava’s inquiry seriously. His daughter was very curious and sometimes her questions opened new avenues of magical experimentation and research. “Personally, I’ve never tried it. I know some potions make it possible. At least, according to what I’ve read in Gaius’s manuscripts. But using only one’s magic? Probably… I have to think more about it. No trying on your own.” Merlin sternly warned his daughter when he noticed how her face brightened at the idea. She was liable to try it, just to see if she could, damn the consequences until she was deep in the trouble. Obviously, that was a trait she inherited from Arthur. And well… That’s how they ended up redecorating the throne room several months ago.
“I promise I won’t try it without supervision,” Ava said with her fingers crossed in the folds of her dress, and lowered her head demurely, as she tried to hide a mischievous spark in her eyes.
Merlin narrowed his gaze at his daughter in suspicion. She was always thinking up some kind of mischief when she was trying to look innocent. It was exactly the same expression Arthur wore years ago when he was trying to pull some prank on his unsuspecting manservant. “I mean it, Ava. It could be dangerous. No trying on your own.”
His daughter only nodded her head and turned back to her hedgehog, trying to turn it back into the cup, while the wheels in her mind were turning furiously.
“Your daughter is going to drive me to an early grave,” Merlin complained to his sentinel, as he snuggled deeper into his embrace. It was never going to get old, to be held like this by his golden knight.
“Why is Ava always my daughter when she makes you mad?” Arthur groused, the nice afterglow, he was thoroughly enjoying, vanished with his guide’s words, while his hands wandered aimlessly on his guide’s back. Arthur luxuriated in the feel of his spouse’s silky skin. The passing years changed his guide from the soft-spoken mischievous young man into the stern and imposing, but still soft-spoken, sorcerer guide who stayed steadfastly at his side from the first time they had met. Arthur felt fortunate to witness his transformation.
Merlin raised his eyebrow when he dug his chin into Arthur’s chest to look up into the sentinel’s eyes. “You have to ask? Really?”
“Perhaps,” Arthur smirked, the teasing coming to him naturally. His guide always made it easy to fall into familiar patterns of banter.
Merlin’s mouth twitched in an aborted smile. He put his head back on Arthur’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Ava posed an interesting question in our lessons today. And it makes me wonder what she is working on when we aren’t looking. It worries me because…” The sorcerer trailed off and bit his lip, trying to skirt about the issues with Ava’s strange magic.
Arthur sighed, throwing one of his arms across his eyes before he ventured hesitantly. “I know you aren’t telling me everything, and I can respect it, considering we have decided Ava’s magical training should fall under your purview. But…”
“But nothing. I was selfish.” Merlin admitted quietly. “And I hurt you with my silence, even if that wasn’t my intention. Eilidh made it clear to me weeks ago I should stop pushing you away.” The guide sighed and tangled his fingers with Arthur’s. He looked down at their joined hands; Arthur’s strong, callused and his pale, almost soft ones. “Ava is different. Her magic is very different from anything I had ever seen. And stronger. Perhaps even stronger than mine, but it’s still mostly untrained. Currently, her magic adheres more to her wishes and emotions than her attempts at spells. And I can only speculate why… I think it has something to do with her conception. The ritual when we swore to Albion to always stand in her defence.”
“You think it’s likely she’ll be called.” Arthur guessed and groaned when the implications hit him. Their daughter certainly liked to make his life complicated.
“She is on the cusp already. A strong guide in making. She’ll take my place as the enchanter and magical guardian of Albion.” Merlin smothered the words against Arthur’s chest.
“Do we have an idea about her sentinel? Is there someone she favours?” Arthur asked, his mind whirling with various plans, calling up and discarding them left and right. His daughter deserved the best. She deserved to find love, just like they had, against all odds.
“So far, I didn’t notice anything strange going on with her. But it’s nothing out of ordinary for a guide to awaken without his or her sentinel in the vicinity. You know that. I know that. Well, it’s common knowledge now. Fortunately, she has all the training to manage her guide gifts even if she wasn’t fortunate enough to find her sentinel as soon as she wakes. Guinevere and Esyllt were very strict teachers.”
“I know. I know.” Arthur soothed his agitated guide, while he tried to reconcile everything he knew with what he just learnt. After all those years spent bonded to his spouse, he could read Merlin pretty well. “Ah. You worry she’ll be called because of the threat Morgana poses.”
“Yes.” Merlin confided softly. “The threads of fate are hard to untangle, but… I’m positive she’ll awaken sooner rather than later.”
“She won’t be alone. She’ll have you and me. Gwen, Esyllt and others.” Arthur promised and hugged his guide closer to his chest. Merlin made a discontented sound before he let himself be lulled back into a relaxed state.
“Shh. Ava. Let me in.” A whisper interrupted Camelot’s princess’ meditation. Her face brightened and with an absentminded wave made herself somewhat presentable, before she opened her door and pulled her visitor inside. With another wave, she weaved the wards around her room, seamlessly adding them to the existing ones to give them a bit of privacy.
“Roderic. What are you doing here? Are you trying to get caught?” She chastised him, her cheeks pinking fetchingly.
“No?” He replied, insolently raising his eyebrow. “I trust your wards.”
Ava rolled her eyes. “Well… I’m not interested to see you skewed on my father’s sword if he finds you here. Or worse.”
“Right.” The young man shuddered at the thought of the king’s consort and the large deterrent masquerading as a semi-tamed sentient dragon. He had no interest in ending as Kilgharrah’s food. “Maybe we should head out for a bit. I hear the gardens are very nice at this time of year.” He suggested.
She glared at him. “Quiet. I’m trying to concentrate.” Ava slowly made a little hole in her shields and let out a trickle of power to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be – meaning asleep in their beds. Her walks with Roderic were her only distraction from her worries. She had awakened, shortly after she heard her estranged aunt’s name spoken during a council meeting. A sure sign, her parents were right and her aunt was a threat. Ava was lucky nobody noticed her struggles before she excused herself and worked to settle her guide gifts on her own. Well, Roderick knew now but it was hardly her fault he was so damn observant.
“Mom is worried about you. I think she noticed something was wrong with you when we visited the castle last time.” Roderic said, interrupting Ava’s concentration.
The princess nodded and grabbed his hand, dragging him outside her room. “Not here. It’s not safe. Wait, until we are out of the castle’s walls. We’ll speak more then.”
Roderic tightened the hold on the princess’ hand and led them right into the secret passage near her rooms. Its existence was their little secret. They had discovered it when they were children and wandered around the castle long after they were supposed to be asleep in their beds and overheard their parents discussing something heatedly in the middle of an empty corridor. Afraid of punishment, they ran and literally fell through a wall into a secret passage.
Ava took a deep breath, taking in fresh smells of the forest surrounding the castle, and relished in momentary freedom from her duties as crown princess. Spying a bench, half-hidden in the rose bushes, Ava made for it and sat down tiredly. She sighed, finally answering Roderic’s earlier questions. “I’m not ready to tell anyone. Not yet. Not while something is urging me to stay silent. I’m not so sure why exactly… But I’m not going to go against my instincts. Please, Roderic, don’t say anything to anyone.”
The knight shuddered as Ava’s plea washed over him. “As you wish, princess.”
Ava wrinkled her nose. She hated when he called her princess. While the other people, Roderic included, might be sceptical about her beliefs, she was pretty sure he was her sentinel. Unfortunately, the young man was still latent and didn’t feel their connection as acutely as her. That would change as soon as he awakened. She could be patient. For now.
Roderic was a bit of an enigma for the courtiers and most of them thought he wasn’t a good match for her. He was found as a toddler in the middle of the forest by a low-ranking sentinel-guide couple and brought back into the castle. Guinevere and Lancelot insisted on taking care of him and that was it. They grew up together and actually, contrary to everyone’s opinion, they were very well suited to each other… If only Roderic would admit it to himself. It was driving Ava mad that he was keeping his distance.
“Not a princess, Roderic. Just Ava.” She admonished him lightly and burrowed her hand in the folds of her dress to hide the nervous trembling.
“We’ve already talked about it, Ava.” The knight frowned. “You are still so young. And…”
“And nothing. I know my mind and I made myself clear to you a year ago. It’s you or no one.” The princess interrupted him rudely and turned her head away from her companion. It was the same old argument.
“Ava.” Roderic sighed in exasperation. It was unfortunate the princess inherited her stubbornness from both of her parents, making her twice as hard-headed as the king and his consort put together. He was trying to respect the boundaries their parents set when they left their childhood behind, but… It was getting harder, as Ava blossomed into a beautiful young woman. And his feelings, he so tried to hide from her, sometimes overpowered his reason, making him succumb to the temptation to spend more time in her presence. Hence, their illicit little meetings out of the castle’s grounds and their parent’s constant supervision.
“Roderic,” Ava replied in the same tone, annoyed with his continued denial. She was sure she would be successful in wearing him down. It was only a matter of time before he admitted it, too.
Part 2
“We should stop meeting like this,” Roderic whispered, playing idly with Ava’s fingers. He was a weak, weak man. The weeks spent in Camelot were taking a toll on his resolve to keep his distance from the princess. The unexplainable pull, he always felt towards her, got only more intense, the longer he lingered in the court. That forced him to follow Ava around.
When he was in her presence, the wild feelings inside him calmed down, leaving him on the edge of something. A change, perhaps, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it. And Ava insisted on roaming the garden after the sunset, forcing him to follow her, to guard her against the dangers lurking in the darkness. Roderic took a notice of several thoughtful glances the king sent in his direction in the last days. As if he knew about their late meetings and was gearing to say something about them.
On the other hand, there wasn’t much time and space during the day to steal a moment alone. He was in and out of the castle, joining the patrols and weapon’s training with the experienced Camelot’s knights, and avoiding the complaint day like a plague. And Ava had her hands full with her training. The king’s consort turned out to be a harsh taskmaster, often pushing her to repeat the spells again and again, until she was able to perform them effortlessly from her memory.
The disquieting rumours about foreign invasion reached the court and were flying rampant. The king and his consort had their hands full with allaying citizens’ concerns regarding the return of Lady Morgana and her husband from the exile at the head of the Saxon army. A dangerous enemy, as Ava’s absent aunt was often described in hushed whispers, and a powerful and vindictive woman. Morgana was a guide, one bonded with a powerful sentinel and belief that Camelot throne was rightfully hers.
Ava smirked and raised her eyebrow challengingly at her companion. “Are you afraid of little old me? I don’t bite. I promise.”
Roderic looked up from their joined hands at the princess and declared seriously. “Only an idiot wouldn’t be afraid of your displeasure. And I’m not an idiot.” The princess was uniquely powerful, and he witnessed too many incidents and their aftermaths when she got too emotional and her magic escaped her control to wreak havoc. Blown up furniture, scorched floor and on one memorable occasion turning that one pompous windbag’s hair bright blue for the entire week he was present in the castle, were often the results of her shaky control. Fortunately for her, most of the incidents happened in the privacy of her rooms, and if not… Well, that was when the king’s consort stepped in to diffuse the situation.
“Unexpected.” Ava agreed readily and cocked her head. “But it shows you are sharp enough to look under the surface. Most see just my pretty face and hope to woo me to gain access to the throne through me, and completely forget what I am capable of. Remind me to do something nice for your mother for raising you so well.”
“And under the pretty surface, you are a force of nature,” Roderic murmured. “Gorgeous and dangerous. The best traits of both of your parents reflected in your temperament.”
“I’m blushing,” Ava murmured coquettishly and put her forehead on her almost-sentinel’s shoulder to hide her pleased smile. Roderic knew her so well.
“You are pretty dangerous on our own. And that’s when I discount your parents and large detterment in the form of an ancient dragon, showing up on a whim.” Roderic finished, shuddering at the thought of meeting Kilgharrah face to face. Once was more than enough for him. The dragon carefully looked him over, sniffing disdainfully, before completely dismissing his presence in favour of chatting with the king and his spouse. It was disconcerting to realize how little he mattered to the ancient being. Of course, then there was a disquieting feeling, Kilgharrah took a great dislike to him. Roderic decided then and there it was in his best interest to avoid the dragon.
“Kilgharrah? He is harmless.” Ava waved away his concerns. Her papa was proud of his old scaled friend and sometimes he took her with him to meet the dragon. Of course, father accompanied them. She so loved flying on the dragon’s back, feeling the freedom in the air, and often begged for more time. Sometimes Kilgharrah consented, sometimes not, but it was always an experience she cherished.
“He is no danger to Camelot’s darling heiress.” Roderic retorted and snagged the flower from the nearby rose bush and put it behind her ear. The soft pink bud touched Ava’s cheek gently, making her giggle. “You are beautiful.” He accused the princess, looking intently at her lips. His resolve broke and he was in her mercy.
“You aren’t too shabby yourself.” Ava shot back, smiling contently. Suddenly, she leaned up and boldly planted a little kiss directly on Roderic’s mouth. The rest of the world ceased to exist, as they continued to exchange sweet kisses on their favourite garden bench.
“What are you looking at?” Merlin asked, as he entwined his arms around Arthur’s waist and put his pointy chin on the blonde’s shoulder, staring out of their window into the night’s darkness. It was unfair how fit his sentinel was. He still looked a lot like the incorrigible prat he was forced to serve in his youth, just a little bit stronger and mature. The time he ruled Camelot engraved several worry lines on his forehead, while their daughter caused the laugh lines around his eyes and several silver strands sneaking into his golden tresses. It didn’t make him any less attractive. The opposite was true. “It’s late. Come back to bed, Arthur.” He pleaded.
Arthur shivered as a wind blew a cold night air into the room and leaned back against his guide’s deceptively strong body. “In a moment, Merlin. I’m watching.”
“So, what’s so interesting that you rather spend the time looking out of the window instead of being in our warm bed?” The sorcerer asked curiously. It was one of his secret peeves that his sentinel was so gifted with his enhanced senses to see even through the impenetrable darkness. Fine, so he could use his magic to enhance his sight too, but he didn’t fancy the following migraine. It was better, and less painful for him, just to wait for his sentinel to enlighten him.
“Roderic. And shhh. I’m trying to listen.” Arthur hushed his spouse and tilted his head. The young man might know his place, but he wasn’t so sure about his daughter. Ava was too much like him, too headstrong and spoiled quite a bit, too used to getting her way. It was a miracle no one, except him, had noticed anything developing between them. But then… They were always thick as thieves, those two. Since they met as children and Ava put a handful of mud down Roderic’s tunic and he retaliated immediately, they gravitated together. Although, why they chose this exact lawn, directly under their window, if they wanted to keep their meetings in secret, Arthur couldn’t fathom.
“Roderic? As in Gwen’s and Lancelot’s son? That Roderic? What is he doing outside this late?” Merlin asked, dying of curiosity. He had to have some very good reasons to sneak out in the garden. A romantic interest, perhaps?
Arthur rolled his eyes in annoyance and glared back at his guide. “Yes, that Roderic. How many young men with this name do you know? Now, hush. It’s just got interesting.”
“Prat. And rude.” Merlin pouted. “You should let them have their privacy. Come on, let’s get to bed.”
“He is with Ava. They’ve just kissed.” Arthur blurted. He couldn’t believe his guide didn’t notice anything going on with those two and he was one with empathy.
“What?” Merlin was startled. “He dares? It’s our daughter. Why aren’t you doing something? Arthur!”
The blonde slowly closed the window and turned to his standoffish spouse. He wrapped his hands around Merlin’s waist and pulled him against his body. “They are in love, Merlin.” He said quietly. “I refuse to stand in their way. Just remember how hard it was for us to come together. Besides, it’s mostly Ava who is trying to push Roderic to finally ask for her hand. He is resisting so far, even though I can see his feelings for our daughter clear as day, but I know our Ava… She is far too headstrong. She’ll wear him out soon enough. I was expecting this development sooner, considering how inseparable both of them were in their childhood. To his credit, Roderic seems to be content to wait for Ava’s majority. Although, we should start looking for a discreet chaperone if they continue to insist on meeting alone in the middle of the night.”
“So, that’s the reason why you refused everyone who was asking for Ava’s hand in marriage. You are a sappy old romantic, my dear.” Merlin sighed dreamily and leaned against his sentinel’s strong body, taking comfort from the familiar warmth of his spouse. “When did you become the voice of reason in this relationship?”
“Must be your influence, love.” Arthur shot back, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. It wasn’t that often anymore he got one up on his spouse. Merlin was much too wily in his older age. Also, the decades spent together as a bonded pair made it easier to predict each other.
Merlin flushed and affectionately cradled Arthur’s cheek in his palm, staring into other man’s eyes. “Prat.” He added for the old time’s sake.
Clotpole. Arthur returned fondly and captured his guide’s lips in the needy kiss, as he pushed them towards the bed. His guide had the right idea.
“Come to bed, Morgana. Don’t stare at that water anymore.” Mordred murmured to his guide from his place on the surprisingly comfortable cot in their tent. Wonders of magic and a spouse willing to make things happen if it led to the desired outcome. Like comfortable and warm bedding. Although, it would be much better if Morgana joined him sooner rather than later.
His lady wife was standing at the basin filled with the potion and was staring at the surface for hours. She poured her magic into the liquid to enhance her already formidable sight, as she searched for the best path for the battle they were planning. Mordred’s enhanced sight caught a droplet of sweat that was trickling from her temples down her throat, temptingly vanishing between her breasts, as she searched and immediately discarded myriad variations of the paths hopefully leading to their victory.
The process was delicate and complicated and required all of her attention. Too many people and their decisions to account for. Morgana was fairly certain she could accurately predict her half-brother and his spouse, she was less certain of the young princess. It rankled that a child of such dubious origin was an heir to Camelot throne when she was forced to renounce her claim after Arthur’s forces defeated Uther. The princess was in a difficult age – not a child, nor an adult – prone to make spontaneous decisions at the drop of a hat. That made her unpredictable and it was driving Morgana mad. And the less said about Merlin’s dragon, the better. The ancient beast had countless years on her in managing his formidable precognitive abilities and manipulating how the other seers saw or didn’t see him. Those two were the largest obstacles in her quest to determine the best outcome for the invasion.
The witch waved her hand over the potion and released her spell. The silvery magic rose from the basin and gently settled back under her skin. “Nothing new.” Morgana sighed in disappointment. “The events are changing too rapidly right now to make an accurate prediction. It’s mostly the fault of that child of Arthur’s and Merlin’s dragon’s.” She admitted reluctantly. “I’m at my wit’s end about what to do about them.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mordred tried to soothe his guide. He pushed aside a thin blanket to make room for his wife to lay beside him. “Come here, love. Let’s get some sleep. Leave those heavy thoughts for another day.”
Morgana shuffled towards the bed, into her sentinel’s embrace and put her head on his chest, listening to the strong heartbeat. Since the moment they met, she always found comfort in his arms, no matter how hopeless her situation looked. “That girl and the dragon are too unpredictable to accurately guess how they would react to various situations.” Morgana spat out.
Mordred shrugged and simply pointed out. “So, we take them out of the equation. Then their influence would be non-existent and you should be able to get a picture of the possibilities.”
“Great idea,” Morgana murmured gratefully and pecked his lips. “I’ll look into it tomorrow, first thing in the morning, with this option in mind. I’m curious how it will change the outcome. But now, I’m more interested in other things. Like this, for example.” She smirked wickedly when her hand found the hardness between her sentinel’s legs.
Part 3
“Ava Pendragon.” Merlin hissed at his daughter. She wasn’t paying any attention to the lesson in favour of staring dreamily out of the window. Eilidh wriggled on the windowsill, trying to find a more comfortable place, getting directly into the path of the princess’ gaze. Ava blanched and wiggled her fingers haphazardly over the cup she was supposed to change into a hedgehog. Instead of tiny prickly animaI, some kind of sleek big cat with a golden coat, and he was using that term loosely, appeared in front of them and roared angrily. Merlin hastily clicked his fingers and unmade Ava’s failure before the beast decided to attack them.
“I would appreciate it if you concentrate more on your lessons and not on whatever stole your attention today.” He said dryly. Ava blushed brightly and Merlin sighed. Of course. Roderic. He should have known.
“But papa, you always have my full attention.” Ava started to object, while she smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle on her dress, unsuccessfully avoiding her father’s knowing gaze.
The sorcerer just rolled his eyes. “Please, Ava. Who do you take me for? I know exactly what… well… more like who stole your attention.”
“How?” Ava looked up and stuttered out. She was so certain she managed to pull a wool over everyone’s eyes. They were always so careful not to cause a scandal. Ava knew that as the only child of the king and his spouse, the greedy eyes were constantly following her every step. What she and Roderic had, what she hoped they would have in the future, was only theirs; and not anything for anyone to spread ugly rumours about.
Merlin sighed and patted her hand consolingly. “I just know. Parents’ prerogative.”
“Father too?” Ava groaned and collapsed on the chair. That was her worst nightmare. She was so sure they were discreet enough and that nobody caught on to what was going on between them. Roderic wouldn’t be happy to learn they weren’t as discreet as they thought.
“Arthur and I decided you need to be chaperoned,” Merlin said to his pouting daughter. At that moment, she looked so much like his spouse it was uncanny. He only raised his eyebrow at her and continued. “We won’t be entertaining any objections to our request, so don’t even try. You seem to be really interested in each other. If it’s heading towards the betrothal we would like to ensure that the proper protocols are followed. Secondly, it’s unseemly for a crown princess to sneak around the castle going who-knows-where, with who-knows-who and doing who-knows-what. After all, you are our daughter first, and we want you safe.”
Ava sat back, crossing her arms across her chest defensively, huffing and cursing under her breath. It was not fair her parents knew everything there was to know about her. “Fine.” The princess snapped, waving her hand around in frustration. With a bang, the large cat was summoned back, even angrier than before, ready to jump at them at any time.
“AVA!” Merlin shouted, desperately clicking fingers to send the beast away. His daughter was liable to send him to an early grave. He wiggled his fingers, making the large cat freeze in its place. He really didn’t fancy explaining to Arthur why a foreign beast was roaming freely around the castle.
“Oops.” The princess smirked, watching her father’s attempts to magic the cat-like beast away, while she was subtly keeping it from attacking them. She wondered how long it would take him to find out it was a real animal summoned directly from its homeland to the Camelot, and not transfigured one like her previous magical mishap.
Morgana took a deep breath and stumbled away from the basin. The intense session, where she followed various paths of an ever-changing future was strenuous. Especially, if she took it upon herself to search for the most beneficial path for Mordred and her. She was just glad she didn’t have to use her magic out in the open. Curiously, here in the place of her birth, she was much stronger than anywhere else.
It felt…
It felt…
It felt like…
Tintagel was welcoming its wayward child back home.
The land bonded with her as soon as the former princess took a step across its borders, boosting her already formidable abilities. Her sentinel followed, claiming the territory as theirs to protect. It was really strange for her to reconnect with a piece of her almost-forgotten childhood after long years spent in exile. Also, it showed her that they had a chance to take over Albion as the strongest sentinel-guide pair when they finally got around to rid the kingdom of Arthur and that pest Merlin once for good.
“Mordred.” The witch-guide smiled, sensing the familiar presence lingering nearby, and turned to the doors. And there he was – leaning nonchalantly against the door frame, watching her intently. Her sentinel. Her Mordred.
“My guide.” The sentinel rumbled, his patience stretched too thin. It was too long since they had any semblance of privacy to indulge in renewing their bond. This castle, even in its horrible state of disrepair, was better than a thin barrier of the fabric of their tent in the middle of the Saxon army. He was safe, his guide was safe and he claimed the first bit of territory in their future kingdom. “What did you find out?”
Morgana smirked, pleased with herself. “The things stabilised in Camelot and the princess’ fate is set in stone. She’ll stay in the castle, out of our way.”
“And the dragon?” Mordred inquired, stealthily closing the distance between them. The day spent amongst violent Saxons stretched his control over his instincts to its limits. The sentinel in him longed to find some peace in the soothing presence of his guide.
The witch frowned. “He is still an unknown variable. Much too invested in Merlin and his family for such an ancient being. He should know better than getting tangled in mortal affairs.” Morgana shrugged. “But that’s not our problem. If we manage to get him engaged during the crucial battle, the throne is as good as ours.”
“Do you have an idea how to make that happen? Ulfric and others are getting impatient with all of this waiting.” The sentinel warned. The Saxons were savages, hell-bent on pillaging their way through Albion. Fortunately, they revered the gifted pairs, so Morgana and he were able to exert some control over them. That and the fact they allowed the barbarians to plunder the neighbouring villages to their heart’s content.
“A trap,” Morgana said suddenly. “I have something in mind for that overgrown lizard but I would like to consult the mirror a bit more before I commit myself to the action.”
“How long then?” Mordred whispered the question directly into his guide’s ear as he put his hands around the female’s waist, drawing her towards his hard body.
“Soon. Very soon.” Morgana murmured against his lips and leaned up for a kiss. The picture in the water basin behind them froze, showing a crystal cave and a dragon trapped inside.
The quiet evenings were getting increasingly rare for the Camelot ruling pair since it was confirmed that Saxons were there and were a threat. The stress of imminent war was taking its toll on both men. The tension at the court was growing alarmingly and was hair-breadth away from blowing up in some spectacular way. Merlin was permanently exhausted from channelling the soothing feelings for hours every day to temper the agitation, fear and rising aggression amongst the castle’s population. And Ava’s sneaking-around wasn’t making it any easier to at least pretend everything was alright.
“Have you talked to Gwen and Lancelot about the betrothal?” Merlin asked, idly petting his spirit animal. Their daughter’s interest in the young man was serious. And reciprocated. After initial doubt about the suitability of Ava and Roderic together, he had seen that their daughter chose wisely.
Arthur raised his head from the numerous papers stewed across his desk and admitted reluctantly. “Not yet. I was busy with other things.”
“You should have,” Merlin replied and raised his eyebrow. “It’s highly probable both of us will be in the middle of things, fighting against invaders. Ava is too young to join us on the battlefield. She will have to stay behind and take care of our people. And of course, she will need a protector. Who is better to guard her than her future husband?”
“You are onto something, love.” Arthur started, massaging his temples wearily. His spouse had a good point. And Roderic would be perfect to entrust the safety of the castle and their daughter. “We will speak to them as soon as Gwen returns and…” The sentinel cocked his head suddenly, his keen hearing catching a slight noise just outside of the door, and called out. “Come in.”
“I hate when you do this,” Lancelot grumbled when the door on Arthur’s private office closed and Merlin sealed it from any curious ears listening to them. Eilidh meowed and stretched, eyeing the sentinel suspiciously from her perch on Merlin’s lap. “I have no good news. Tintagel had fallen to Morgana’s forces.”
Arthur nodded shortly. “I’m not surprised. I felt when the castle and surrounding lands were claimed by a sentinel-guide pair. It was to be expected from her. Tintagel is perfect for staging the next part of the invasion.”
“And it is her birthplace,” Merlin murmured, a golden light shimmering over his skin, his hand stilling in Eilidh’s fur. His spirit animal appeared more and more often in the last weeks. It was making him apprehensive about the entire situation with Morgana’s army. He shook his head to rid of intrusive thoughts and continued. “A place where she buried her mother when she was just a little girl. We don’t have a right to take it from her. Also, the land refused to let any other sentinel or guide claim it and was waiting for her and her sentinel.”
Lancelot raised his eyebrow in surprise. “That was information I wasn’t aware of and is kind of crucial for our efforts to prevent her from staging further attacks in our land.”
“We were ready to turn over the ownership of the castle to her as soon as she swore to give up her claim on the Camelot throne, but… Well… She and her sentinel fled, and chose to rather suffer in exile than to swear themselves to me.” Arthur sighed and sat heavily on the chair. Talking about his estranged half-sister was always difficult for him. He remembered Morgana, as a carefree girl bouncing around the castle, as an excellent partner in getting in and out of trouble, rather than a powerful, perpetually angry and vindictive woman she grew into. Years apart made them strangers and there was nothing he could do to make it better. It was too late.
“Very generous of you,” Lancelot noted dryly, bringing back his king’s attention to the matters at hand. “Unfortunately, that bargaining chip is lost to us. Any other ideas on how to proceed?”
“Several. Depending on…” Arthur trailed off and tapped his fingers on the table. “Merlin? Your thoughts?”
“Kilgharrah said… we’ll meet Morgana’s army very soon.” Merlin revealed, speaking up for the first time since Lancelot came in. Carefully, he put Eilidh down on his seat and sidled up to his spouse, staring thoughtfully at the map of Albion spread out in front of him. “Here.” The sorcerer pointed at something on the parchment.
Arthur leaned over and read the name that Merlin showed them. A cold feeling of dread sent shivers down his back like their path was set in the stone. That everything would be decided on the plains of…
Camlann.
Part 4
Hushed giggling woke Arthur from a dead sleep. Again. Grumbling under his breath, he climbed from his warm little nest at his guide’s side and shuffled towards the window. The giggling was distinctive and he was almost sure to whom it belonged. The sentinel looked down, his sight sharpening instinctively and huffed. He was right. Those two…
“Ava and Roderic are at it, again?” Merlin cracked one eye open and murmured from the bed, as he sleepily observed Arthur open the window and shamelessly listened to the young couple for several long moments. His sentinel was getting very invested in the young couple.
“Yes, they again. I would like to know why they always choose to meet directly under our window. At least Ava should have realized, their little hidden corner isn’t as secret as they thought. Didn’t you tell her? Besides, someone should keep an eye on them, so they wouldn’t get into trouble.” Arthur replied tartly and turned back to his watching. “Still… For a sleeping sentinel, Roderic is very adept at avoiding their chaperone.” He complained. “I wonder if I should call in Gwen. She is subtle enough for the task, but it may be too awkward to explain why exactly we need her to be an unseen chaperone to our daughter and her son.”
“And why not? She is perfect.” Merlin leaned against the headboard and stared at the blonde curiously. “She is discreet enough to serve as an unobtrusive chaperone. And they clearly need strict supervision if they insist on meeting in this gods-forsaken late hour. Gwen won’t let them get away with it.”
“But Lancelot won’t thank me for that,” Arthur murmured, his attention fully back at the young couple down, in the garden. “Besides, it’s not that I’m against their relationship. On the contrary. I wish they would just stop sneaking around. And that Roderic would finally find his stones and ask us for Ava’s hand.”
“You think Rodric is Ava’s sentinel.” Merlin suddenly realized as various disparate pieces fell together to show a picture of what he suspected his sentinel knew for some time. And that was also probably a reason why Arthur didn’t overtly intervene with their developing relationship. The entire court was probably aware something was going on between the crown princess and the son of their most faithful friends… Their little meetings were public secret by now and the only ones oblivious to that were those two fools in love.
“And that occurs to you only now? I knew it since Ava was hardly a little older than a toddler and Gwen brought her son to be introduced at the court.” The blonde rolled his eyes at his spouse. “Really, Merlin. Are you getting slow in your old age?”
“You did not just call me old and senile, did you?” Merlin glared, the gold bleeding into his eyes around the edges, and he flexed his fingers, playfully smirking. His esteemed sentinel’s hair gained several bright blue streaks in the next moment. Ava’s influence, but shhh. He wasn’t going to admit to it anytime soon.
“If the shoe fits…” Arthur couldn’t help himself and teased his pouty spouse. It wasn’t his fault Merlin couldn’t see what was plainly staring him in the face when it concerned their daughter. “Now, be so kind and change my hair back.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The guide denied immediately, and very unconvincingly, as his eyes frequently darted towards his handiwork.
“Merlin, please. I’m not dumb.” Arthur sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Did you know your magic has a distinctive feel? I think I’ve mentioned it several times.” He raised his hand to silence further denials from his guide. “Besides, your up-to-something face is eerily similar to our daughter’s. That means you clotpole, I can say for certain your magic did something to me.”
“Fine, you prat.” Merlin huffed and threw himself back at their bed, crossing his arms across his chest, and pointedly stared at the other man. With a golden flash in his eyes, the strangely fetching blue streaks leached out of Arthur’s hair, leaving behind its original blonde colour.
Arthur smirked victoriously, glad he didn’t have to resort to more… persuasive… techniques to soften his pouty guide’s attitude. When Merlin was in a mood, everyone suffered for it (mostly him, but he had enjoyed it… in the privacy of their bedroom). And suddenly Arthur’s head turned towards the opened window as he frowned darkly. “Now this certainly exceeded the limits of my lenience I was willing to grant them.”
“What? Why? What happened?” Merlin perked up. He knew it. They should have stopped the young couple’s night dates as soon as they became aware of them.
“I’ll have to summon Roderic for the private audience first thing tomorrow. We cannot allow this to continue. They’ve kissed. And not a quick peck on the lips either.” The king said for Merlin’s benefit. “Roderic should have had more sense than that and at least talked to us before he engaged in such compromising behaviour with our daughter.”
“I’ll kill him. Just wait and see.” Merlin said pleasantly and climbed out from the bed. “Gwen and Lancelot would just have to forgive me for maiming their son.”
“Tomorrow, love.” The blonde stopped his spouse in the mid-stride. With a raised eyebrow, he commented dryly. “Preferably, with more clothes on and several strongly-worded reprimands to both of them. Ava isn’t innocent in this matter, you know how she is… Headstrong when she goes after her target. Roderic, in this case.”
Merlin looked down and immediately blushed brightly from the mid-chest to the tips of his ears. Fine. His sentinel had a point. Going naked through the castle wouldn’t be the best idea. Not that the servants weren’t used to worse things from both of them. On the contrary. He wasn’t even sure how many times they were caught by some unsuspecting maid when they were making out in some semi-private alcove.
“First thing tomorrow then. Roderic, his parents and our Ava. We’ll talk about their betrothal.” The sorcerer murmured his agreement against Arthur’s lips, not quite believing he was actually agreeing with the other man’s plans so easily. But… Well… He was always weak for his blonde prat.
“Of course, love.” Arthur readily agreed and closed the last inch between their lips eagerly, as he nudged his guide back to the bed and followed after him, his mind consumed by his self-appointed task of pleasuring his guide.
The rare meetings with Kilgharrah always took place just after nightfall. There was just no need to alarm the entire Camelot of the dragon’s presence and cause the panic. The clearing about half an hour away from the castle’s walls was ideal. Merlin was impatiently pacing. He sneaked out as soon as he was certain Arthur was deeply asleep. He had several burning questions he would love for Kilgharrah to answer. The last great dragon had a unique connection to the time, prophecy and fluctuations of probabilities, always making sure to choose the best available option. If he bothered to show up, of course, as it seemed he took his sweet time today.
The enormous flapping wings caused Merlin to look up. The dragon was getting ready to land on the opposite side of the clearing. The dust was swirling in the air, obscuring the dragon’s body from Merlin’s sight for a moment. With a flash of green magic, so quick Merlin almost missed it, the air cleared, leaving behind the majestic beast, humming with ancient magic.
“You called, Dragonlord.” Kilgharrah bowed his head and growled that out instead of greeting. He didn’t like to be at the beck and call for the not-so-young-anymore Dragonlord, although the sorcerer was often entertaining. So, he listened to Merlin’s calls more often than not, even if he could have easily batted it away, courtesy of his ancient magic in his blood.
“Evening, Kilgharrah.” Merlin greeted the giant pain in his ass and promptly frowned. “You know I hate that title. Please, could you refrain from using that title, for once?”
The dragon shrugged unconcernedly and flapped his wings, whirling the dust particles in the air. “That’s who your ancestors were. That’s who you are. And that’s who your descendants will be. The Dragonlord bloodlines always breed true.”
“Descendants, Kilgharrah?” The warlock raised his eyebrow in question. “I hope it’s not your way of telling me Ava is going to make me a grandfather anytime soon. Although, with the way she is blatantly carrying on with Roderic…” The warlock trailed off, not liking in the least where his thoughts were leading.
“As if you and your Arthur were any better,” Kilgharrah murmured under his breath. “But don’t worry, just yet. It’ll be several more years before Roderic and Ava welcome their first child into the world. A son, if you are curious.” The dragon waved the juicy piece of knowledge in front of Merlin’s nose. The sorcerer made it so easy to rile him up. “But your daughter and her future spouse aren’t why you called me here today. Right, Merlin? Especially, when I don’t see your blonde shadow anywhere near. Sneaking out of the castle in the middle of the night like a thief? How juvenile of you.” Kilgharrah called him out.
“I didn’t call you because of Ava.” Merlin immediately denied it. “Arthur and I decided years ago to let our daughter choose her spouse on her own. We didn’t even interfere until their relationship turned serious. We want her happiness above all, no matter how other kingdoms push us to strengthen our alliances through a royal marriage. Besides, I think she had her heart set on Roderic since she was a little girl.”
“Ah. The princess and the foundling.” Kilgharrah said thoughtfully, as he openly smirked at his human companion. “A mirror of another relationship. I think I heard about it once. A prince and a servant, was it, Merlin?” He teased the human.
“We are not here to rehearse this old story again.” Merlin rolled his eyes in annoyance. The flying pest, masquerading as a wise and occasionally helpful dragon, always had to take a dig at his relationship with a Pendragon sentinel, a son of a man who imprisoned him under Camelot for decades before he was freed.
“Right. Morgana and Mordred.” The dragon got serious, all traces of previous teasing mood swiftly vanishing. He had thought, and his magic readily agreed with his instinctive dislike, that the witch guide and her druid sentinel always posed a danger for Arthur’s reign. Years ago when they were exiled, he was of the mind to take care of them before they could do more damage to Camelot in the future. Unfortunately, the former princess and her sentinel wisely left Albion as soon as they heard about the edict. And he never felt quite like hunting for them. A mistake, the dragon realized, as his scales shimmered deep green and the various probable futures unfurled in his minds-eye, and just as quickly vanished.
“You are at the crossroads, Merlin.” Kilgharrah rumbled, not quite believing what his magic was telling him. The options and paths of the continuation of Camelot’s golden era vanished, leaving behind only devastating destruction. “There are only two available paths for you to take.”
“I was afraid you would tell me that.” The warlock sighed heavily. His magic was fairly vibrating, accepting Kilgharrah’s words as a done deal. He wasn’t as gifted in divination as with other branches of magic but he sensed the events took on the darker shift in the last weeks since Morgana touched the shores of Albion with the intent to take back Camelot throne with the force.
“The first path will lead to the ruin of everything you and your sentinel built in the last twenty years.” The dragon continued mercilessly, as his gaze glazed over and the two most probable futures bloomed in his mind. “Excalibur broken on the battlefield drowned with blood and you spending centuries waiting for something that could never happen.”
“And the second path?” Merlin asked, his apprehension rising with every word his old dragon friend uttered. The warlock sensed the currents of time and change swirling around the fixed point, Kilgharrah was referring to, when everything would hang on a single decision.
“The second path will lead to the ruin of everything you and your sentinel built in the last twenty years but…” Kilgharrah rumbled out, as the path crystallized in his mind. A flash of a distant future, impossible choices and a lightning child sentinel and his equally young guide gave him a fragile hope that Camelot could be restored to its greatness sometime far in the future. “I see one chance. Your many-times-grandson will claim Excalibur and take his rightful place on the throne. For that to happen, you have to follow your sentinel in all ways. In life and death, just as you swore. The battle is lost, no matter what you or Arthur do. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, Merlin, but it is unavoidable. The question is… How will you choose?”
Part 5
Kilgharrah’s words echoed in Merlin’s mind even days later when the Saxon army was almost at the Camelot’s gates. His sentinel and the rest of the gifted in the castle were getting ready for the inevitable confrontation. Merlin was perhaps several hours away from having to make his choice, according to the dragon’s warning. The burden of knowing that they were facing the end wasn’t as much blessing as he thought. He hated keeping secrets from his sentinel but how could he tell him their kingdom would be destroyed no matter what they did. That their poor daughter would live through the destruction of everything she knew and make several hard choices just to save her life.
“You are hundreds of miles away, Merlin,” Arthur spoke up suddenly. The tension was getting too much for him to bear. He always hated waiting, and his guide’s strange mood in several last days didn’t make him feel any better. Merlin looked like he was saying silent farewells to the castle and its inhabitants. And to him. He looked like he was getting ready to leave him. It was hateful.
“Just worried.” The warlock shook his head and corralled his wandering thoughts, hoping nothing was shown on his face. Eilidh snuggled deeper into his lap and nudged his hand to get him to pet her. Merlin sighed and burrowed his fingers into the wildcat’s fur. She purred her contentment and curled on his lap, falling asleep. At least someone was able to relax in these circumstances. Both spirit animals, Eilidh and Niall, were much more present in the last days as if they knew something was wrong.
“Is it Ava?” Arthur asked blindly. His guide was working with their daughter for hours in the last few days, leaving them both worthless to do anything more than eat and sleep. Probably an overreaction on his part because he promised to follow Arthur into the battle in the morning, and for the first time Ava would be left alone in the castle without either of them. Also, most of Camelot knights were joining them in this endeavour, leaving behind only skeleton staff to defend the castle, headed by Roderic. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t also worried about the safety of their daughter and their people.
“Partly,” Merlin admitted. Then he shook his head. “But mostly… No. She’ll be safe in the castle with her betrothed at her side. Roderic won’t let anything happen to her.” The distant sadness clouded his face, as he turned away from Arthur’s too perceptive gaze.
“I love you. We were destined to walk all paths together; from the time we bonded, all of those years ago, to death. I’ve never regretted choosing you.” Arthur said out of blue, suddenly needing to let his guide know the depth of his feelings. Some kind of urgency made him say those words, to make himself clear to his spouse.
“I know.” Merlin closed his eyes in pain and the tears rolled down his cheeks. He let himself be drawn against Arthur’s strong chest and buried his head against his neck, sobbing quietly in his anguish. Suddenly, everything was too much for the warlock and he mumbled. “I love you too, Arthur Pendragon. Till death and beyond, per our vows.”
“You know you can tell me anything,” Arthur murmured, caressing the length of Merlin’s back in an attempt to soothe his unconsolable spouse. The guide only cried harder, startling even Eilidh out of her nap. With a disgruntled meow, she shimmered out, leaving the sentinel and guide to deal with their much too complicated feelings.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” The sentinel tried again. It was startling to see Merlin completely lose his composure in such way. He was used to Merlin’s steadiness and to see him in so much distress was difficult.
Merlin hiccupped and turned his head up, putting his lips to his sentinel’s ear and hesitantly whispering secrets he kept from him, about the most likely fate awaiting them on the plains of Camlann on the next day.
The battle wasn’t going well, just as the ancient dragon predicted. The Saxons outnumbered them three to one. And while the Camelot knights were better trained, they were getting overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the northern invaders. Arthur was breathing heavily, as he swung his sword to relieve another Saxon of his head. Merlin ducked under his raised arm and sent out a burst of magic at the group of invaders mobbing Gawain. Leon sent him a tired smile in thanks for a little breather before the heat of battle pulled them back.
“Morgana and Mordred.” Merlin hissed under his breath to his husband as soon as he noticed the enemy sentinel-guide pair standing under the trees, surveying the field, and occasionally interfering. The warlock shivered, as a gust of cold wind hit him in the face. Kilgharrah’s words of doom were insistently bouncing in his mind. And speaking of the dragon. Just where he was again? He promised he would be here for the battle.
Arthur closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I know, love.” Grabbing his spouse’s hand, the blonde squeezed it gently. “We can’t let them reach the castle. Too many lives are at stake.”
“And our daughter is in danger.” Merlin sighed. His magic was pricking under his skin, reminding him that his time was growing short.
“She is strong, our Ava. And determined enough to hold her own against almost everything. We prepared her as thoroughly as we could in the time we had and she has Roderic looking after her.” Arthur whispered back.
Merlin nodded resolutely and pulled his sentinel to meet the instigators of the invasion face-to-face. With Arthur’s sword dancing in the air, dispatching the enemies left and right, and his own magic shielding them, the royal couple walked steadily towards their targets. The sounds of battle were drowned in the ominous silence, the instant they broke through Morgana’s protective bubble.
The witch stumbled against Mordred as her shield was swept away by Merlin’s determination. She frowned. The annoying former servant was different. It still galled her that he was ruling Camelot with Arthur instead of her. She remembered when Merlin’s magic was an untamed, half-feral thing, deep and terrifying like the ocean. Now, his power was more restrained and controlled, maybe a little weaker than it was years ago, but still very much dangerous.
“Morgana. Mordred.” Merlin inclined his head, gold seeping into his eyes as he raised up another shield to give them privacy for the talk they were going to have. “Now, we won’t be disturbed.”
“Where is my son?” Morgana asked sharply when the curtain of other guide’s magic cut them off from the ongoing clash between their two armies. Blue flames erupted from her palms in the agitation, the longer Merlin stayed silent and stared at her thoughtfully.
“Son?” Arthur stared incomprehensibly at his half-sister. He wasn’t aware she bore a child. “What son?”
“The child you stole from me.” Morgana hissed angrily, and a stream of blue fire erupted unexpectedly, aiming at her brother. The sentinel dodged her attack effortlessly and returned back to Merlin’s side in the next instant, raising an eyebrow at his half-sister.
Merlin took in a sharp breath when he understood just what the witch was implying. That day… that fateful day was engraved in his memory for a reason, the sorcerer realized. “To my knowledge, you’ve abandoned the baby in the middle of the forest. What did you think would happen to him if he wasn’t found on time? You lost all rights to him as soon as you left him there all alone, terrified out of his mind. I’m forever thankful his distress managed to call a nearby bonded pair to come to his aid. If they didn’t, I don’t wish to imagine what would happen to him otherwise.”
The former Camelot princess turned her out-of-control attack on her fellow guide. The truths, Arthur’s guide was speaking, hit her directly in the forever bleeding wound on her heart. Mordred and she talked about it repeatedly, but then there weren’t many choices they could have made. They were going into exile and couldn’t take their boy with them, fearing the uncertain future awaiting them outside Albion’s shores.
So, she focused her formidable precognitive abilities on her son’s fate and saw it deeply entwined with these lands. A happy childhood, a great love finding him early in his life, his children, grandchildren, etc. For a fleeting moment, she caught a glimpse of a far distant future, a boy with her green eyes and curly black hair, Pendragon high cheekbones and a rune of victory boldly engraved on his forehead, passionately addressing a crowd with a beautiful little witch at his side. And it was decided.
Mordred and her left their son in the forest, as close to Camelot as they dared to venture, with most of Arthur’s loyal knights at their tail. After placing so many protective spells on him, that it was a little wonder he wasn’t glowing, they left him in the forest. The last time she saw her child was when an unfamiliar female guide took him and headed to the castle.
A sharp stab of pain shook Morgana from the memories. She abhorred thinking about the choice she had to make. The witch’s furious magic wrapped around Merlin’s pale neck and squeezed threateningly. “You. It’s all your fault. Give me back my son.” She snarled half-ferally.
“Can’t do.” Merlin choked out, his face turning blue as Morgana’s ferocious power refused to let him breathe. The witch’s hold tightened, forcing Merlin to wrap his hands around the burning magical rope around his neck and attempt to overpower it. He hissed in pain; his hands blistered as soon as they touched the foreign magic, holding him prisoner. Morgana got more powerful in the years spent in exile. But fortunately, he was still stronger than her, and not so controlled by his emotions anymore. Rich green magic poured out of his palms and Morgana’s assault fell apart in an instant. Merlin took a deep breath and waved his hands in the female’s direction and trapped her and her sentinel in a golden-green cocoon.
“He is no longer your son,” Merlin said quietly, throwing pitying glances at Arthur’s furious half-sister, and surreptitiously created another invisible shield between their enemies and Arthur and him. Almost getting strangled by mad Morgana once was a mistake he couldn’t afford to repeat. Not when the life of their daughter and the Camelot’s survival depended on the outcome of this battle.
Morgana narrowed her eyes at the upstart former servant and hissed. “What did you do with him?”
Merlin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. His sentinel’s curiosity was burning alongside their bond and he wasn’t allowing him in. It was his burden to bear, not Arthur’s. Although his spouse was aware of some of it, and it was quite a surprise he didn’t put things together just yet, he was missing a crucial piece of information at Gwen’s and Lancelot’s insistence. He owned them for their sacrifice on Camelot’s behalf.
“Speak.” She ordered imperiously, her agitated magic sparkling on her skin, trying to break through the cage it was forced into. Morgana swallowed a smirk, and subtly nudged her sentinel when she sensed her spirit animal slithering up her leg, unnoticed by her half-brother and his guide.
“What are you all talking about?” Arthur hissed at his spouse. There was something he was missing and he didn’t like it. Not in the least.
“That child doesn’t exist anymore. After you abandoned him in that forest he was found out by some good people and brought to Camelot. He was then adopted by a noble couple in need of an heir.” Merlin said, as he completely ignored his sentinel’s insistent questions flooding their bond.
“Their names,” Mordred demanded suddenly. Merlin had almost forgotten his silent presence, more concerned with Morgana. The druid, his former protege, was scowling darkly at him. It was hard to be in the presence of his one failure. Mordred’s presence was tainted, just like the remains of his magic. It was unbelievable someone so honourable and good came from such a twisted union. “The name, Merlin.” He shouted impatiently.
Merlin closed his eyes and knew the time was up. He had to fess up what he did for their dearest friends. “Their names won’t help you any. As I said earlier. The child was adopted. In blood and in magic, erasing any traces of your tainted heritage from his blood and replacing it with his adoptive parents’ lines.”
“Merlin… You don’t mean the boy in question is…” Arthur spoke, as he finally realized who his guide was talking about.
“Roderic.” His spouse finished, revealing the secret he harboured for years. For everyone’s sake, he hoped it would sate their curiosity.
“You… You… little bastard. You usurper. Whore’s son.” Morgana ranted. If Arthur’s guide wasn’t already her enemy, based on his role in ensuring their exile, he would certainly earn her eternal enmity with his latest admission. “You gave my son to my former maid and a low-born knight. That‘s what you call good people taking care of my child?”
“You didn’t want him. You abandoned him in the middle of the forest.” Merlin objected loudly, as he quite rudely interrupted Arthur’s estranged sister, fed up with her self-righteous behaviour when she was clearly in the wrong. “Gwen and Lancelot desired to have a child. And Roderic was, for a lack of a better word, convenient. I agreed to lead the adoption ritual. I thought so then and I’m of the same opinion now, as I stand in front of you. It was a great solution for everyone involved.”
Although, how could I foresee Ava would take a liking to him and he ends up being our future son-in-law. Fate and her little games, probably. Merlin sighed and exchanged a look with his sentinel in exasperation.
Perhaps… But please, pay attention. Both of them just realized that they don’t have anything to fight for. And they’ve become more dangerous because of it. I don’t want to lose you, Merlin. Arthur sent back to his guide, as he slowly prepared himself for the imminent fight. From what he and Merlin gleaned off the enemy couple during their little tête-à-tête, they were desperate to win. Not a good combination with everything they had just learnt.
The sorcerer sent out a burst of warmth down their bond, in acknowledgement of Arthur’s worries. He twitched slightly, as the melting pot of volatile feelings finally boiled over and Morgana and her sentinel attacked simultaneously.
Part 6
Excalibur met Mordred’s sword with a clang. Arthur’s hands shook with the force of the hit. Morgana’s sentinel was strong. Young man, barely an adult, who came with a tribe of druids to seek shelter all of those years ago changed considerably. He grew up and hardened, as the harsh North was unforgiving for any weakness.
The king shifted his weight slightly to the left and Morgana’s angry magic swept by him. He left his spouse to deal with his errant sister and continued to circle around the enemy sentinel. Mordred narrowed his eyes and calmed down considerably. His opponent was an experienced warrior tempered in a war and he couldn’t fight recklessly if he sought to win.
Arthur put his sword defensively in front of him. Mordred’s demeanour changed as he calmed down. The technique he was using wasn’t familiar. His sentinel side catalogued its effectiveness and Arthur nodded to himself. The other man was very well trained and it was a pity he had chosen treason and exile instead of living an honest life.
Arthur attacked with a quick flurry of moves that would leave a lesser opponent dizzy with attempts to keep up. Mordred parried everything he had thrown at him. They were well-matched. Arthur bared his teeth ferally. It was a long time since he felt so challenged. The sounds of swords meeting again and again in the ferocious deadly dance was awe-inspiring.
Merlin and Morgana weaved around the edges of vision of their sentinels, exchanging bursts of magic in quick succession, trying to distract the other not to interfere with the sentinel clash. The power of their spells gouged craters in the ground, burnt the grass, broke the trees, sometimes singing their skin when a spell got too close. Morgana was tiring quickly, and that blasted sorcerer was as fresh as daisy. It was unbelievable.
Suddenly, Niall screamed, grievously injured, and was falling from the sky. Merlin flicked his hand in the bird’s direction and made an impossibility possible as he opened a window directly to the psionic realm. The hawk fell through the portal and it closed behind him with a whoosh.
“Arthur.” Merlin sobbed out, as he noticed the unmoving body of his sentinel laying in the middle on the battleground and Mordred standing over him, radiating smugness and victory. “No. NO!” He shouted in grief. And exactly at that moment, the decision was made for him. He couldn’t bear to live with half of his soul gone beyond his reach.
Merlin’s magic swelled up in grief, escaping its tight restraints, and was let loose in one burst. The sorcerer’s power washed over the battlefield like a giant wave, transporting every combatant, dead or alive, from the field soaked in blood to the safe place. Albion’s defenders found themselves beside the lake Avalon and all of Saxons found themselves back in their harsh motherland with a century-long ban to enter the lands of Albion weaved directly into their bloodlines. Morgana and Mordred were panting on the ground, back in their exile at the mercy of Saxons’ ire and unable to return; their power forever stripped from them in punishment for daring to attack and kill the protector of Albion.
Eilidh meowed mournfully and faded out, following the bright soul of her charge into the psionic realm. His work was done and his choice safeguarded the future for his descendants.
The stillness fell over the suddenly empty field. The grass was undisturbed and various flowers popped out in response to the immense magical endeavour. The only witness to the ferocious battle was lonely Excalibur gleaming in the last rays of the setting sun.
The night fell and the castle was under siege. The fires lit up one by one and illuminated a part of the Saxon army camping outside the castle walls that were sent ahead while the rest fought on the fields of Camlann. The enemy sorcerers were preparing to attack the castle. The darkness was hiding them from Ava’s gaze, but their bloodthirsty expectation was relayed through her empathy loud and clear. The princess observed with rising apprehension from the window how the looming threat of invasion settled literally under her nose and she was powerless to do something.
“Ava. Thank Gods, you are alright.” Gwen whispered, hugging the young princess desperately. The king and his consort were dead. She could sense the inevitable change hanging in the air. All now depended on Ava. The princess was radiating distress, failing to shield herself, and broadcasted her position to Saxon sorcerers.
“Gwen.” Ava sobbed out, clutching the dress of Roderic’s mother, bawling like a child, overwhelmed finally by the undeniable truth of what she was trying to deny for hours. The young woman felt the exact moment her parents’ hearts stopped beating and the burden of guarding Albion fell on her too young shoulders. It changed everything in an instant and the tiara she liked to wear grew in weight when she realized she was now responsible for everyone in the castle.
Her parents had been preparing her for this day since she was very young. She just didn’t expect it would come so soon. But Ava refused to disappoint her parents. She pushed down the grief, locked it in the deepest parts of her soul and steeled her aching heart. With too few knights or even men capable of holding weapons left to defend the castle, she didn’t have much of a choice. Ava straightened her back and with a flick of her wrist, she glamoured her reddened eyes and blotchy face, smoothed her dress, and made one of the hardest decisions of her young life. “Sound the bells. We need to evacuate the castle as soon as possible.”
“Oh, Ava.” Gwen sighed. It was heartbreaking to see the young woman channelling the tone and determination of her fathers. Both of them, brilliant in their own ways, did a great job raising their heir.
The princess shook her head to clear it from sudden cobwebs gathering there and asked confusedly. “Why are you still standing here? Go Gwen, and ring the bells. We have people to save.”
The older female shuddered with unease. This was not a time to dwell on Ava’s words. “Where will you be?”
Ava sat back gingerly on her father’s, hers now, throne and looked back at Roderic’s mother. “Right here. In the throne room. I’m going to buy us some time. I’ll try to hold the wards for as long as possible. We need to hurry, though. Saxons are already poking at the outermost layers of our wards. There are three of them, fairly strong in their own right, and there is only one of me. So, please. Get our people out while there is still the time.”
Gwen nodded; the hair on the back of her neck rising as saw the princess close her eyes in deep concentration, lean back and clutch the ornate armrests in her tiny fists. Within an eyeblink, Ava’s body started flickering with soft golden light. The magic in the room rose rapidly to the suffocating levels in the entire room, spreading in the thin tendrils all over the castle, making a lattice of protection over her father’s wards.
Ava didn’t hear Gwen’s hurried steps as sunk deep into the magic currents. It was dangerous to delve so deeply, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She needed to be aware of how the evacuation was progressing. The sorcerers were strong and clearly knew their magic well enough. They attacked at various intervals, randomly changing which one was making an attempt to penetrate the wards, searching for a weakness.
Ava completely lost track of time as she hastily patched the cracks the enemy sorcerers had made with their probing. But the outer layer of wards was getting too damaged to hold against them longer. Distantly, she sensed a weight settling on her lap and smiled gratefully. Little Aithusa, her spirit animal of a pale dragon she kept secret from anyone, came in at last. The little dragonling laid down and pumped a fresh infusion of power into Ava’s flagging magic.
The princess threw open her empathy, searching every corner of the castle where the wards were most damaged and sighed in relief. Gwen worked miracles and the castle was almost empty. Only a few stragglers were hurrying through old Kilgharrag’s cave out of the castle. A handful of knights remained behind to guard the entrance to the throne room.
With a sigh, Ava let go of most of the wards and reduced the boundary to several feet from their current position. Then, it became a race. The sorcerers attacked at once in quick succession, no longer holding back when they finally realized only one sorcerer was standing against them, and that person was tiring quickly. Feeling the opportunity they ferociously swept through the empty corridors, seeking the greatest obstacle in their conquest.
“We don’t have time. Come, Ava. We have to leave.” Gwen’s voice implored. Saxon sorcerers were already there and immediately started working on dismantling the last wards. The older female felt their determination to succeed and with each layer, they unravelled their anticipation rose. Camelot was no longer a safe haven for them. Now, with Merlin dead and Ava wincing with every hit they landed on the last shield she fought tooth and nail to hold for as long as possible, there just wasn’t anyone strong enough to hold them off anymore. The last vestiges of protection would fail soon enough. The priority was to get the princess out of the Saxons’ reach.
Ava’s eyes fluttered open. She winced for the last time and the wards fell. Aithusa screeched in anger and was unceremoniously forced out on the psionic plane, leaving behind a depleted guide. The princess stood up on shaky legs leaning heavily against Gwen and shivered at the sounds of a violent fight getting closer. Her empathy was blown wide open and she suffered immensely, feeling every death, the aggressors and defenders alike. In a desperate act of self-preservation, the guide side searched for her sentinel. Roderic was awake and feral, fighting to get to her. With a relief, Ava linked herself to the sentinel, anchoring him to his sanity, while her own shields rippled and strengthened. Shakily, the princess clicked her fingers and put up another shield.
“Ava. Look out.” Gwen cried out suddenly and pushed the princess out of the oncoming spell. The maliciousness coming from the green magic was overwhelming but she couldn’t let it hit the princess. The spell dispersed Ava’s weak shield and hit Gwen directly in the chest.
Ava stumbled on the uneven ground and caught herself against the wall at the last moment. She sobbed out, as she felt Gwen’s life be mercilessly snuffed out. The foreigners were bearing on her, grinning violently. The princess shivered when she read their intentions towards her loud and clear. No. It wasn’t going to happen. Not to her. She refused. Spinning her hands in the air, Ava called up all of her remaining magic to the surface. Her skin started to glow and she whispered. “Roderic.”
The sentinel was tearing through the Saxons standing between him and his guide in a blind rage. Only a fragile tether denoting Ava’s more-or-less good health stood between his sanity and falling into complete madness. The shouts of invaders fed his anger and he refused to feel guilty about snuffing their worthless lives. It was their own fault for getting between him and his guide. His comrades all fell to their enemies’ swords, leaving only him to take care of this threat. And he would.
His guide’s fear spiked out, causing the red haze to fall over his mind. His senses narrowed down to her frantic heartbeat, as she formed an impenetrable barrier around herself. His focus narrowed down, as he ducked around the insignificant obstacles in his way towards his guide. The persistent annoyances were quickly dealt with his sword and his wolf stalking predatorily beside him.
The gold bled into Ava’s eyes for the first time in her life, as she called up every bit of her innate power with only one purpose. To defend what was hers. The magic swirled wildly around her body, creating a tempest fed by young women’s grief and determination. With a wild cry, Ava let go, drowning everything in a wave of unrestrained power. The following silence was deafening.
“AVA! AVA! Please, open your eyes. I can’t lose you, too. You are all I have left. Please. Please. Ava. Wake up.” Roderick pleaded insistently with his betrothed. She had to be alive. The wave of power temporarily overwhelmed his senses and he had to shut everything out or risk getting damaged, so it was hard to tell.
To his relief, the princess’ eyes fluttered and opened. The grief, he read in them, was overpowering. She hiccupped and burrowed her face in his chest. It was breaking his heart to see the vibrant girl shedding tears all over his tunic, as she sobbed out her plea. “Please. Take me away from here, Roderic. Take me away.”
Epilogue
After the Battle of Camlann, the Pendragon name vanished from history. With all known Pendragons dead or missing, there was no clear heir to the Camelot throne. And without the stabilising influence of King Arthur and his consort and guide Merlin, the alliance of the kingdoms of Albion fell apart and the entire island was plunged into civil war. The sentinel and guides retreated into safety provided by their sorcerer allies, leaving the mundane people to solve their squabbles without their interference.
And so, it happened. The magic in all forms slowly faded out from the memory of mundanes and my people were finally safe. However, it wasn’t without a steep price my family was forced to pay.
When my parents died, the mantle of the strongest guide of Albion fell on my shoulders and my then-betrothed became my shield and sword against the merciless world. It was then, with a heart full of grief that I decided to shed my name. In those chaotic times, it was very easy to disappear. I refused to let Lady Gwen’s sacrifice be in vain and agreed to shed my birth name. It was the hardest decision I had to make to ensure the safety of my future children. So, I let Princess Ava Pendragon fade quietly from people’s sight and memory with judicious use of secrecy oaths and memory magic, and in her place appeared Ava, wife of Golden Griffin, as Roderic became known amongst our people.
Kilgharrah’s death was another blow, coming at the heels of the unspeakable loss we all suffered when Camelot was destroyed. He came to me, to the last living descendant of the Dragonlords, old and tired of countless losses in his long life, and made us an offer. He would bestow the right to wield my father’s dragon forged sword to all of my worthy descendants if I would release him from his bond to my line, the line of the last Dragonlords.
The failure to free himself on time from the cave, Morgana and Mordred managed to trap him in, and go to aid Merlin and Arthur in the last battle at Camlann, cut the ancient dragon too deeply. I could feel his desire to finally find the rest. So, I agreed, with a heavy heart, to let go of another tie to my past, and set him free. The fragile connection between Kilgharrah and me broke and he roared his pain into the night.
Then the last great dragon called my father’s sword, Excalibur, to my side and promptly led me through the entailment spell to allow only my descendants to call it to their side, only if their cause was just and their need was great, by the way of a quick blood-rite. With a parting farewell full of well-wishes and veiled warnings of the future, he took the last flight, vanishing behind the horizon, never to be seen again.
Excalibur was left behind in my care, and of course, I chose my Roderic to bear it. The finicky weapon allowed it, although reluctantly. But the sword made it clear to us it would be the only time it allowed itself to be used by any other person than its intended wielder.
And that it was going to choose a new worthy wielder from my children and grandchildren.
A Pendragon sword to show their right to rule.
If they were able to call Excalibur to their aid.
And so, the blood of the last magical king and his consort secretly lives on in the descendants of our line, sleeping, waiting for the time a new leader was needed.
The Inheritors of the Dragon Blood,
from the memoirs of Lady Ava Gryffindor,
as preserved in Potter Family Grimoire
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