Morgana stayed hidden. She was good at that. She took up residence in the frigid north, but her reach extended far beyond the wastes. Her spies were experts, gifted in magic and skilled in stealth. Her warriors' prowess heralded a new age of spellswords. And her priests, well… they weren't High Priestesses like herself , but they knew much in the lore of the Old Religion. Then there was Aithusa.

With a dragon by her side, Morgana felt invincible. While the stab wound inflicted by her one time companion Mordred still hurt each and every day, the wound seemed fully healed but a few months later.

Morgana had found an unlikely ally in the Saxons, a group of swordsmen looking for conquest. They flocked to her like flies to honey, seeing the magnificence of her magic and her unceasing beauty. Hungrily she pawed at them, waiting eagerly for every morsel they brought back from Camelot and the surrounding lands.

But as always, she kept hidden. Letting her minions do the dirty work, she studied and practiced the arts of her order. Her thirteen priests counseled her much in affairs of sorcery. Ever they drove her onward, forward to her destiny as the rightful queen of Albion. Savior of their world, restorer of magic, they heralded a new age.

Ever through her spies she watched in fury as the knights, as Arthur grew in power and majesty and love. She saw the serving girl on her throne, and the little witch helping them. Most of all she wanted them destroyed. Arthur would crumble without his wife, and the witch would be a great asset in the war if she could turn her.

The one form of magic she needed assistance with still was necromancy. A very dark art, it required absolutely concentration and foreknowledge. So she had studied. For nearly six months she studied deep in the archives of the libraries her priests had collected until at last she found it.

Poetic justice, really. To be destroyed by his most loyal knight. To have his life ripped to shreds by the one called Honor. Morgana found it pleasing to think Arthur would be done in by him.

That only left the little witch. Morgana knew more about Fira than she figured Fira knew about herself. The fear, the loneliness, the need to belong. She had felt it in Fira on the Isle of Adney. And that was something she could work with.

So Morgana hid. She watched, and she waited. She kept tabs on Camelot at all times, building her Saxon army and enticing sorcerers to join her cause every day. But she herself was a ghost story. She studied and practiced, honing her skills.

Until one day, it all changed.

The End

A/N: So there we have it. The end of Blood Bonds. To be honest I never thought I would see the day after abandoning this story at chapter 17 all those years ago. Thank you for holding out, thank you for reading. If you liked it, drop me a PM or a review. I love hearing from and communicating with my readers.

The sequel, Flames of War, should start up within the week. It's going to be big, and it's going to feature plenty of every character from the show as well as originals I've introduced. If you have a favorite, let me know. Maybe I can work them in more. If you want something specific to happen, run it by me. I'll see what I can do.

Until then, I wish you only the best.

Silz