Nimueh stood at the edge of the dark water, her fingers tracing the surface as she muttered an incantation under her breath. A single flower petal fell from her hand, fluttering gracefully onto the water. As it touched the surface, it became translucent, glowing faintly. Nimueh pulled the petal from the water and placed it carefully into a silver goblet, her eyes never leaving Merlyn, who stood at the opposite end of the room.

"Merlyn," Nimueh murmured to herself, a cold smile playing at the corners of her lips as she enchanted the chalice in her hands.

The grandeur of Camelot's throne room echoed as Lord Bayard and his men made their entrance. Uther, standing tall at the front, extended his hand in greeting.

"Camelot welcomes you, Lord Bayard of Mercia. The treaty we sign today marks an end to war and the beginning of a new friendship between our people."

The two men clasped arms firmly, and applause rang through the room. From the shadows, Nimueh's gaze locked onto Merlyn, who stood at the far side, a servant among the nobility. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the woman—intense, calculating, as if trying to pierce through the layers of power she sensed swirling around her.

Merlyn grumbled as she trudged down the Upper Corridor, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder. Her arms ached from the load, and the day seemed endless.

"Why do I always get landed with the donkey work?" she muttered to herself, looking up just in time to spot Gaius walking toward her.

"You're a servant, Merlyn. It's what you do," Gaius remarked dryly, his voice a calm contrast to her irritation.

Merlyn groaned, shifting the bag to her other shoulder. "My arms will be a foot longer by the time I get this lot inside."

Gaius chuckled. "It's character building. As the old proverb says... hard work breeds—"

"A harder soul?" Merlyn finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Gaius grinned. "No, I didn't just make that up."

Merlyn rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. She'd been working with Gaius for too long to not recognize his sarcasm. But before she could reply, a sharp gasp broke through the banter.

In front of her, Nimueh had faked a stumble, crashing into Merlyn's path. Her eyes glinted with something unknown as she twisted her ankle in a dramatic show of carelessness. Merlyn stopped short, her senses suddenly on alert.

"Sorry," Nimueh said, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Merlyn's eyes narrowed as she watched the woman, her every instinct prickling. It was subtle—barely noticeable—but Merlyn felt a shift in the air. The temperature around them seemed to dip, a cold, unnatural presence settling over the corridor. She couldn't help but sense the faint flicker of power radiating from Nimueh, something dark and dangerous.

"It's alright," Merlyn replied, her voice even, though her mind raced.

Nimueh smiled up at her, brushing herself off. "Excuse me."

Merlyn's caution deepened. There was something about this woman that unsettled her, a power Merlyn couldn't quite place but could certainly feel. Her senses were buzzing now, her own magic stirring in response to the unseen force.

"Let me give you a hand with that," Merlyn offered, moving to help.

She crouched down to retrieve the pillow Nimueh had dropped. As her fingers brushed against it, Merlyn felt a strange warmth—a pulse of energy that wasn't her own. It sent a shiver up her spine. Without thinking, Merlyn conjured a shield of light around her hand, keeping her own magic subtly protecting her.

Nimueh, seemingly unaware, accepted Merlyn's help with a gracious nod. "Hi. I'm Merlyn," she said, forcing a smile despite the unease building inside her.

Nimueh's smile was cool. "Cara. You're Arthur's servant? That must be such an honor."

Merlyn's heart skipped at the mention of Arthur, but her mask didn't falter. "Oh, yeah. Well, you know."

Nimueh's eyes lingered on Merlyn for a moment too long. The air between them thickened. Merlyn could feel the woman probing her, sensing something in her aura—something hidden, something not meant to be seen.

"Thank you, Merlyn," Nimueh said softly, breaking the tension and turning away. "It was nice meeting you."

As she walked off, Merlyn stood still, her eyes never leaving her. A faint sense of foreboding tugged at her mind. She could feel Artemis, her daughter, somewhere far away, stirring in response to her unease. Through their bond, a subtle shift in the atmosphere reached her—a warning, an instinctual nudge to stay alert.

Gaius watched Merlyn closely, a knowing look in his eyes. "Merlyn?" he asked lightly.

Merlyn didn't answer right away, her gaze still lingering on Nimueh's retreating figure. The feeling of power, like an invisible storm gathering, had not left her.

"I don't trust her," she muttered, her voice low." Something about her feels off." Gaius nods not saying anything, learning to trust her instincts.

Merlyn set down Arthur's clothes for the feast, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles. As she stood back up, her eyes caught the faintest scent of something familiar—Arthur's cologne—and she instinctively took a step backward, recoiling. The familiar smell always had a way of making her heart race, and she quickly covered her face with her hand, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"When's the last time these were cleaned?" she asked, her voice slightly strained, though her gaze lingered on Arthur as he worked, his presence in the room both comforting and unsettling.

Arthur glanced up from his desk, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Last year sometime. Before the Feast of Beltane."

Merlyn shot him a knowing look. "Did it end in a food fight?"

Arthur's laughter rang out, warm and deep. "Don't all feasts?"

Merlyn couldn't help but smile at the sound, but she quickly looked away, her heart betraying her calm demeanor. "I wouldn't know. The airs and graces of the court are a mystery to me."

Arthur's grin softened as he leaned back in his chair, watching her. "Not after tonight they won't be."

Merlyn raised an eyebrow, an uncertain flutter stirring in her chest. "I'm going to be at the banquet?"

Arthur stood from his chair, stepping closer to her with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Not quite. You'll be there to make sure my cup doesn't run dry. If I have to sit through Bayard's boring speeches, I don't see why you should get out of it."

She shot him a teasing glare. "Be sure to polish the buttons, then."

Arthur's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long. "Do you want to see what you'll be wearing tonight?"

Merlyn raised an eyebrow, her stomach flipping at the idea of whatever ridiculous attire he had in mind. "Won't this do?" she gestured to her attire.

Arthur reached for a set of ceremonial robes—clearly meant for a servant—but as he held them up, his eyes found hers again, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to slow.

"No," he said quietly, his voice low and steady, his gaze unwavering. "Tonight, you'll be wearing the official ceremonial robes of the servants of Camelot."

Merlyn blinked, a flush creeping up her neck. She knew he was teasing, but there was something in the way he said it, something that made her pulse quicken.

"You can't be serious," she said, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability she wasn't sure she wanted him to hear.

Arthur stepped closer, the teasing smile on his lips faltering just for a moment, replaced by something softer. His hand brushed lightly against hers as he adjusted the robes, the touch lingering for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"I'm serious," he murmured, his voice softer now, "but if it makes you feel better, I think you'll look beautiful in them, even if they are... servant's robes."

Merlyn met his gaze, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was the playfulness or the warmth in his eyes that made her feel so exposed. She could feel the unspoken words between them, the quiet promise that, despite the chaos of Camelot and the secrets they both held, there was something more here. Something she couldn't quite name.

Arthur's hand brushed her cheek lightly, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of them seemed to disappear.

Merlyn swallowed, her throat dry. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

Arthur shook his head, his expression earnest now. "No. I mean it."

Merlyn's heart pounded in her chest, and she looked away quickly, unsure of what to say. She was supposed to be the one who kept things together, who didn't let her emotions show. But in this moment, it felt impossible.

Arthur, sensing her unease, gave a soft chuckle, but it was filled with affection, not mockery. "You should wear it with pride. After all, it's for Camelot. For us."

Her breath hitched slightly at the final words. She wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of everything—of their secret, of the growing connection between them—pressed down on her, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Merlyn broke the silence, her voice quieter, more vulnerable than she intended. "If you say so."

Arthur's lips curled into a smile, and he reached for the robes, handing them to her. His fingers brushed hers once again, the touch lingering, gentle, yet filled with something far more profound than she was ready to admit.

"I do," he whispered. "I always will."

Merlyn met his gaze once more, the intensity of his words settling deep in her chest, making her heart beat harder. She didn't know what this was, but she knew it was more than just words.

"Then I suppose I'll wear them," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Arthur's smile deepened, but he didn't say anything more, allowing the silence between them to stretch, knowing that in this moment, there was nothing more to be said.

Merlyn stood awkwardly at the door of the guild's workshop, the ceremonial robes draped over her arm. The smell of linen and thread filled the air as she took in the sight of Gwen and Morgana working on a few garments. The hum of their needles and the rustle of fabric seemed to fill the silence between them as Merlyn hesitated.

Gwen was the first to look up, smiling warmly. "Merlyn! You need something?" Her hands were covered in flour from mixing dyes, but she still managed to wipe them off on her apron, standing from her station.

Morgana, working a bit further back in the room, glanced over her shoulder, her sharp eyes catching Merlyn's. "Something tells me this isn't a simple delivery." There was a teasing lilt to her voice.

Merlyn shifted nervously, lifting the robes up to her chest. "Arthur wants me to wear these for the feast tonight," she said, a mix of amusement and frustration in her voice. "But he insists on ceremonial robes... for servants." She grimaced at the idea.

Gwen tilted her head, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You want us to make it look more... flattering?"

Merlyn's cheeks flushed slightly. "Well, I want to keep the servant look, but... maybe a little less... uh, drab?" She shrugged, unsure how to explain. "I need to be respectable, but not a complete eyesore."

Morgana snorted with laughter, shaking her head. "Flattering, but still humble—got it. That's a challenge." She stood up and walked over to Merlyn, her gaze assessing. "We'll see what we can do."

Merlyn gave a small sigh of relief. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you both." Her voice softened, a hint of gratitude slipping through. She knew Gwen and Morgana were her allies, but in a place like Camelot, where things were always on the edge of secrecy, their kindness was a rare gift.

Morgana lifted a strand of fabric from the pile of materials at her table. "Let's start by adding a bit of shape, shall we? Something modest, of course, but more fitting for someone... worthy of their position, even if it's only ceremonial."

Merlyn's lips twitched into a smile. "I trust you."

Gwen chuckled as she stepped over with a measuring tape. "We'll make sure it's something you can move in. You won't need to worry about being uncomfortable while running after Arthur's cup."

Merlyn rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "I'm more concerned about being dragged into a corner when the speeches start. Bayard does have a gift for making everything sound like a battle strategy." She sighed dramatically. "I hope he doesn't bore me to sleep before the night's over."

Morgana laughed lightly as she began to pin the fabric around Merlyn's waist. "Arthur seems to think it's your place to make sure he's entertained and presentable," she teased.

Merlyn met her gaze, a playful glint in her eyes. "I suspect he just wants me close by in case he needs a distraction."

Gwen smiled warmly as she worked, adjusting the length of the hem. "I'm sure he's not the only one who'll be needing one tonight."

Merlyn's heart skipped a beat. She quickly looked away, not wanting to show too much of her feelings, but her mind betrayed her—Arthur had a way of making her feel like she was the only one in the room, even when the world around them was filled with noise and chaos.

Morgana finished pinning the fabric and took a step back, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think we've got a plan. Subtle changes—nothing too obvious—but you'll definitely look... more striking, Merlyn. Not bad for a servant."

Merlyn smiled, relieved that the final result would be something that felt both appropriate and just a little more 'her.' "I trust you both. Just don't make it too obvious, alright?"

Gwen winked at her as she added a final stitch. "Don't worry, Merlyn. You'll be able to keep up the pretense without too much difficulty."

As the last stitches were added and the dress took its final form, Merlyn looked at herself in the mirror. The robes were still humble, but now they had an elegance that spoke of someone more than just a servant. Her heart raced as she saw her reflection—she felt like she could move freely now, not just as someone serving others, but as someone worthy of standing beside the prince in ways she never thought possible.

"Thank you," Merlyn said quietly, her voice filled with sincere gratitude.

Morgana grinned, hands on her hips. "No need to thank us. Just remember to make sure Arthur's cup stays full tonight."

Merlyn laughed, the sound light but real. "I'll do my best."

As she turned to leave, Gwen called out, "Merlyn..." She waited for the woman to stop and turn. "Be careful tonight. You might just find that your secret is harder to keep hidden than you think."

Merlyn felt a brief flutter of nerves at the words, but she nodded. "I'll be careful. I always am."

With one last look at the two women, Merlyn left the workshop, the ceremonial robes now a blend of humility and hidden strength, her heart quietly hopeful for what the evening might hold.

The grand Hall of Ceremonies buzzed with anticipation. The treaty was about to be signed, sealing the fragile peace between Camelot and Mercia. The crowd murmured in excitement as Uther stood at the head of the room, his sharp gaze directed at Bayard, the leader of the Mercian delegation. Nearby, Merlyn stood in her ceremonial robe, feeling both out of place and more herself than she had ever felt before.

She had spent the better part of the afternoon with Gwen and Morgana, carefully tailoring the robe she would wear to the feast. It was still a servant's attire, but it had been altered just enough to make her feel a little more dignified. The simple cut remained, but delicate silver trim now adorned the edges, catching the light in subtle ways. The Camelot crest had been embroidered over her heart, a quiet symbol of her loyalty to the kingdom and the family she secretly loved.

Merlyn couldn't help but stand a little taller as she studied herself in the mirror before leaving. The dress fit perfectly, hugging her form in a way that made her feel powerful and beautiful, while still remaining true to her position. It was a balance, and for the first time, she felt as though it had been achieved.

Gwen had stepped back after her work was done, her pride in her craftsmanship clear. Morgana had insisted on just a little more elegance, a touch of grace that could make the simple servant robes stand out without drawing too much attention. They had all worked together to make sure Merlyn looked the part of a servant—while still allowing a glimpse of the woman she was underneath.

Merlyn stood in front of the mirror, admiring the work, her thoughts wandering to Arthur. The dress had been designed to be practical, yes, but there was something about it that would catch his eye. Not too much, but just enough. It wasn't the kind of attire that would scream for attention, but it was far more refined than she would have ever expected. She couldn't help but wonder if Arthur would notice, if he would appreciate the subtle changes.

Gwen's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Perfect," she said with a soft smile, stepping back to admire her work.

Morgana nodded approvingly, her gaze meeting Merlyn's in the mirror. "It's more than perfect. It's exactly what Arthur will notice."

Merlyn met Morgana's gaze, her heart fluttering despite herself. She knew what Morgana meant—it wasn't just about the dress. It was about showing Arthur that she wasn't just a servant, that there was more to her than the role she played. And yet, in the quiet corner of her heart, she couldn't deny that part of her wanted Arthur to see her, really see her, as something more.

"I don't want to stand out," Merlyn said, her voice soft, uncertain. "Just enough to get by."

Gwen walked over to her, her voice more serious now, but still warm with affection. "It's not about standing out, Merlyn. You deserve to look as beautiful as you are. And Arthur deserves to see that."

Merlyn's breath caught for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn't expected Gwen's words to land so deeply. There was no pretending that Gwen didn't understand her, that she didn't see what was in her heart. She wanted Arthur to notice, too.

Morgana, ever perceptive, added her own voice. "He'll notice, Merlyn. You may not admit it, but we know him better than that. The way he looks at you... it won't go unnoticed."

Merlyn felt a flush of warmth on her cheeks. Morgana was right. Arthur had always looked at her with a tenderness that went beyond friendship, beyond duty. She couldn't deny the way his gaze lingered when he thought no one was watching. But was it enough? Did he feel the same way she did?

As she stood there, taking one last look at her reflection, she realized something. The dress wasn't just about looking good for Arthur—it was about feeling good in her own skin. For once, she could stand in the light, knowing she was worthy of more than just being Arthur's servant. She could stand beside him, with quiet pride.

Gwen gave her a knowing smile before stepping away, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, you're certainly ready for him now."

Merlyn smiled softly in return, her heart fluttering at the thought. "I suppose I am."

The ceremony was nearing its end. Bayard finished signing the treaty, shaking hands with Uther as the crowd applauded. The atmosphere was charged with the weight of history, a new beginning for Camelot and Mercia. Yet, Merlyn's attention was elsewhere. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on Nimueh as she entered with her usual grace. The moment their gazes locked across the room, Merlyn's heart skipped a beat. There was something unsettling about the way Nimueh looked at her—a quiet intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

Nimueh's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, and Merlyn's hand instinctively moved to her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. She had always sensed something dark in Nimueh's presence, a power that clung to her like a shadow. But tonight, it felt even more pronounced.

Gwen, who had been teasing her moments before, noticed Merlyn's sudden shift in focus. She followed her gaze, her eyes narrowing when she saw Nimueh.

"She's pretty, isn't she? For a handmaiden, I mean," Gwen remarked, her voice light.

Merlyn barely spared Gwen a glance as she responded. "She's pretty for a princess, let alone a handmaiden."

Gwen raised an eyebrow, sensing the change in Merlyn's tone but choosing not to press her. Instead, she moved away, leaving Merlyn alone with her thoughts.

Merlyn's eyes remained fixed on Nimueh for a moment longer, her pulse quickening. She knew Nimueh wasn't just another court figure to be ignored. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, and Merlyn could feel her power—undeniable, dangerous.

The peace treaty had been signed, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, one that had little to do with politics and everything to do with the secret Merlyn kept.

The ceremonial goblets were presented, and Bayard's voice boomed across the hall, signaling the end of the formalities.

"As a symbol of our goodwill, and of our newfound friendship, I present these ceremonial goblets to you, Uther, and to your son, Arthur, in the hope that our friendship may last."

The crowd murmured in approval as the goblets were passed between the two kings. But Merlyn's attention remained on Nimueh, who was now standing closer than ever before. There was something in the air—a strange, unsettling energy—that made Merlyn acutely aware of the danger in the room. And as she watched Nimueh move through the crowd with predatory grace, Merlyn couldn't shake the feeling that the night had only just begun.

The Hall of Ceremonies was alive with conversation, the weight of the newly signed treaty settling over the room like a heavy but deceptive peace. Goblets clinked, voices rose in celebration, and hands were shaken in false camaraderie.

Amidst the grandeur, Artemis stood close to her mother, her small fingers curled tightly around Merlyn's hand. She barely noticed the shimmering fabric of her altered servant's dress, the work of Morgana and Gwen, who had delighted in making it something both suitable and elegant. The dress, with its subtly embroidered patterns and graceful fit, was meant to draw Arthur's eye, and it had—more than once already.

But Artemis wasn't focused on her mother or Arthur right now.

Something was wrong.

The air was thick, heavy with a wrongness she couldn't yet name. It prickled at the edges of her mind like a whisper she couldn't quite hear. Her violet eyes darted across the room, taking in the way Uther lifted a ceremonial goblet, the way Arthur followed suit, the way Bayard watched with a carefully constructed expression of goodwill.

And then she felt it—someone watching.

Artemis stiffened. Her breath hitched, and instinctively, she reached for more than just sight. Her powers stretched, brushing against the emotions in the room, searching. And there, on the far side of the hall, she found it.

Darkness.

It wasn't loud or obvious. It was subtle, restrained. A quiet danger lurking beneath a mask of concern.

Her gaze locked onto the source.

A woman. She called herself Cara, but Artemis knew better. The name wasn't real. Neither was the warmth in her expression.

The woman's gaze wasn't on the king. It wasn't on the treaty.

She was staring at Arthur.

More specifically—the goblet in his hand.

Artemis' heart pounded.

"Mama," she whispered urgently.

Merlyn glanced down, immediately attuned to the shift in her daughter's emotions. She squeezed Artemis' small hand in silent reassurance. "What is it, my moonbeam?"

Artemis swallowed, her fingers tightening around her mother's. "Something's wrong."

Merlyn followed her gaze, her own wariness sharpening. The moment her eyes landed on Nimueh, a familiar, unwelcome sensation coiled in her chest. Magic. Old and powerful.

And dangerous.

Before Merlyn could question her further, the woman moved toward them, her steps precise, her face carefully arranged in distress.

"Merlyn," she whispered, her voice laced with urgency. "I need to speak with you."

Merlyn didn't respond immediately. She didn't trust this woman. Not for a second.

And then Artemis took a small step forward.

"Why?" the little girl asked bluntly.

Nimueh faltered. Just for a second. Just enough. "I—"

Artemis tilted her head, studying her like one might a puzzle. Her power stirred, pressing forward, subtle but insistent. A pulse of emotion—a thread of unease. She sent it toward Nimueh, just enough to disrupt her mask.

"You're lying," Artemis murmured.

Merlyn's breath caught. Pride and wariness warred within her. Artemis was perceptive beyond her years. Too perceptive. She could feel truth and deceit as easily as breathing.

And right now, she was unearthing something dangerous.

Nimueh forced a nervous chuckle. "That's quite an accusation, little one."

Artemis didn't waver. "You were watching Papa," she said, voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it pressed into Nimueh's chest. "And the goblet."

A flicker of something passed through Nimueh's eyes. Annoyance? Amusement?

Merlyn stepped forward then, placing a steadying hand on Artemis' shoulder. "Artemis, go to your brother," she murmured. "I'll handle this."

Artemis hesitated. She didn't want to leave, not when the wrongness still pulsed in the air. But Merlyn's hand was firm, her tone unyielding.

With a reluctant nod, Artemis stepped back, her eyes never leaving Nimueh as she turned and made her way toward Apollo.

The moment she was gone, Nimueh exhaled and turned back to Merlyn. "Please," she whispered. "Not here. I don't know who else to tell."

Merlyn clenched her jaw. Her magic itched beneath her skin, warning her, but she nodded nonetheless. She cast one last glance at Artemis, ensuring she was safe with Apollo, before following Nimueh into the corridor.

Behind them, Bayard raised his cup.

"Tonight, we toast a new beginning for our peoples. We look toward a future free from the toils of war."

And Artemis, watching from the edge of the room, knew with chilling certainty—

That goblet carried nothing but death.

A Poisoned Truth

The corridor was dimly lit, torches casting flickering shadows against the cold stone walls. Merlyn followed Nimueh cautiously, every nerve on edge. She had sensed something was off the moment she met Nimueh—there was power in her, coiled and waiting like a snake ready to strike. But she couldn't afford to ignore her now, not when Arthur could be in danger.

Unseen in the darkness, Artemis crouched behind a stone pillar, perfectly hidden in the shadows. She had been following her mother from the moment she sensed something was wrong. Her mind prickled with unease, the whispers of emotion radiating from Nimueh like a thick fog. Deception. Amusement. Something almost smug.

Artemis clenched her fists. She's lying.

Nimueh stopped abruptly, turning to Merlyn with wide, desperate eyes. "It wasn't until I saw him give the goblet to Arthur that I realized..."

Merlyn lifted a hand. "Whoa, slow down. Start from the beginning."

Nimueh exhaled sharply, feigning hesitation. "Two days ago, I was bringing Bayard his evening meal. We're supposed to knock, but he didn't expect me to walk in..." She swallowed, glancing around as if fearful of being overheard.

Merlyn narrowed her eyes. "So what are you trying to say?"

Nimueh hesitated, then leaned in. "If he knows I said anything, he will kill me."

Artemis bit the inside of her cheek, reaching out with her mind. Feel. Her magic brushed against Nimueh's aura—slick, like oil on water. The fear in her voice didn't match the amusement buried beneath.

Liar.

"I won't let that happen to you, I promise," Merlyn said, though there was no warmth in her tone. She was wary. Good. "Please, just tell me what you saw."

Nimueh cast a wary glance down the corridor before whispering, "Bayard is no friend of Camelot. He craves the kingdom for himself."

Merlyn's posture stiffened. That, at least, was believable. "And?"

"He believes that if he kills Arthur, Uther's spirit will be broken. That Camelot will fall."

Artemis' breath caught.

Merlyn's voice turned sharp. "What has he done with the goblet?"

Nimueh hesitated. "I saw him put something in it."

Artemis felt the shift in her emotions. Anticipation. She's playing a game.

Merlyn took a step forward. "What?"

Nimueh shook her head. "I shouldn't have said anything. He'll kill me if he finds out."

Merlyn grabbed her arm, her grip tight. "Please. Tell me. Was it poison?"

A beat of silence. Then, slowly, Nimueh gave a single, solemn nod.

Merlyn inhaled sharply before turning and sprinting back toward the Hall of Ceremonies.

Artemis stayed hidden, watching Nimueh. The smirk that flickered across the woman's face sent ice down her spine.

She wanted Merlyn to know.

Artemis didn't waste a second. Slipping deeper into the shadows, she focused, reaching for her magic. Her body melted into the darkness, reappearing moments later in the Hall of Ceremonies. The cheers and laughter of nobles echoed in her ears, but her attention was on the goblets.

Arthur was already reaching for his.

The Hall of Ceremonies was a spectacle of light and grandeur. Candles flickered, casting long shadows that danced across the assembled crowd. Bayard raised his goblet, his gaze meeting Uther's. "And may the differences from our past remain there. To your health, Uther," he said, the words echoing through the hall.
Everyone stood to toast, goblets raised high. "Arthur," Bayard then addressed, his attention shifting. Arthur, poised to drink, paused, a flicker of unease in her eyes. "The Lady Morgana," Bayard continued, offering a nod. Morgana returned the gesture, her expression unreadable. Arthur waited, her goblet still raised. "The people of Camelot," Bayard finally declared. Arthur began to drink.
Suddenly, a cry shattered the festive atmosphere. "Stop!" Merlyn burst into the hall, her face etched with panic. "It's poisoned! Don't drink it!" She rushed towards Arthur, her movements swift and urgent.
Uther's voice boomed through the hall. "What?"
"Merlyn, what are you doing?" Arthur asked, confusion and concern lacing her voice.
"Bayard laced Arthur's goblet with poison," Merlyn exclaimed, her eyes fixed on Bayard.
"This is an outrage!" Bayard retorted, his hand moving towards his sword. His men mirrored his action, the scrape of steel against scabbard filling the air.
Uther, however, held up a hand. "Order your men to put down their swords," he commanded. Camelot guards surged into the hall, their presence a stark contrast to the earlier celebration. "You are outnumbered," Uther pointed out to Bayard.
"I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged!" Bayard protested.
"On what grounds do you base this accusation?" Uther asked, his gaze piercing.
Arthur stepped forward, a sense of control settling over her. "I'll handle this," she said, moving around the table. "Merlyn, you idiot," she said, her tone laced with exasperation. "Have we been at the slow gin again?" She grabbed Merlyn and took the goblet.
Uther's patience seemed to be wearing thin. "Unless you want to be strung up," he said, his voice dangerous, "you will tell me why you think it's poisoned now."
"He was seen lacing it," Merlyn stammered.
"By whom?" Uther pressed.
"I can't say," Merlyn replied, her gaze darting away.
"I won't listen to this anymore," Bayard interjected.
Uther held out his hand. "Pass me the goblet," he instructed. Arthur, with a look of worry at Merlyn, complied. Uther examined the goblet. "If you're telling the truth..." he began, turning to Bayard.
"I am," Bayard affirmed.
"Then you have nothing to fear, do you?" Uther finished.
Bayard hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching for the goblet.
"No," Uther said, stopping him. "If this does prove to be poisoned, I want the pleasure of killing you myself."
Bayard snorted, a sound of disbelief.
Uther held the goblet up to Merlyn. "She'll drink it," he declared.
"But if it is poisoned, she'll die!" Arthur exclaimed, her voice rising in alarm.
"Then we'll know she was telling the truth," Uther replied, his voice cold and unwavering.
"And what if she lives?" Bayard asked.
"Then you have my apologies," Uther said, his eyes still on Merlyn, "and you can do with her as you will."
Gaius stepped forward, her face etched with concern. "Uther, please! She's just a girl! She doesn't know what she's saying!"
"Then you should've schooled her better," Uther retorted.
Arthur turned to Merlyn, her expression pleading. "Merlyn, apologise. This is a mistake. I'll drink it."
"No, no, no, no, no," Merlyn protested, her voice filled with fear. "It's, it's alright." She raised the goblet, offering a shaky toast to Bayard and Arthur. "It's fine," she whispered.
Suddenly, a smaller figure darted forward. Artemis. She stood between Merlyn and Uther, her small frame radiating a surprising strength. Her eyes, usually playful, were now filled with a fierce determination. She looked at Arthur, a silent message of love and protection passing between them. A faint shimmer of moonlight seemed to cling to Artemis, a subtle echo of her lunar empowerment.
"Artemis, no! What are you doing?!" Arthur whispered, her voice a strangled cry.
"I won't let you drink it, Mama," Artemis said, her voice surprisingly steady.
"Out of the way, child," Uther said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "This is between Merlyn and me."
Artemis faced Uther squarely. "If anyone drinks it," she declared, "I will."
A stunned silence fell over the hall. Merlyn's breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes, wide with a terror that mirrored Arthur's, were fixed on Artemis. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but no sound came out. Her face was a mask of pure, agonizing horror, a tragic premonition of what was to come. Arthur was frozen, torn between wanting to protect her daughter and knowing Artemis's resolve. Artemis subtly used her mental manipulation, projecting a sense of calm and resolve towards Arthur, trying to prevent her from interfering. Artemis took the goblet, her hand surprisingly steady. She raised it in a mock toast. "To... peace," she said.
She drank. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Artemis clutched her throat, gasped, and collapsed to the floor. The faint shimmer around her vanished.
The hall erupted in chaos. Uther's face was a thundercloud. Guards rushed forward, seizing Bayard and his men. Arthur cried out, collapsing beside Artemis, her face stricken, a mix of grief, fear, the crushing weight of her secrets, and the terrifying thought of what Uther would do if he knew everything. Merlyn cries out, her face a study in anguish, stumbled forward, reaching for Artemis, her own magical power swirling around her, a desperate, silent plea for her daughter's life. Gaius pushed through the crowd, her expression grim. Gwen stood nearby, her hand over her mouth, her eyes filled with horror.
"Get her to my chambers!" Gaius shouted to Arthur. "Quickly! And the goblet! I need to know what poison she used!"
Arthur scooped Artemis up into her arms, her expression a mask of pain and determination. Gwen grabbed the goblet. They rushed from the hall, followed by Gaius. Uther watched them go, his expression unreadable. Bayard, now surrounded by guards, glared at the scene, a flicker of something – fear? – in his eyes, perhaps a hint of recognition of the magic he sensed.

The air in Gaius's chambers was thick with tension. Artemis lay on the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Lay her on the bed quickly; she's struggling to breathe," Gaius instructed, his voice urgent. "Gwen, fetch me some water and a towel."
Arthur, his face etched with worry, hovered nearby, his hand instinctively reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from Artemis's forehead.  Just then, Merlyn and Apollo rushed into the room, their faces mirroring Arthur's concern.  Merlyn's eyes were red-rimmed, her expression a mixture of terror and fierce determination.  Apollo's jaw was clenched, his usually playful demeanor replaced by a steely resolve. "Is she going to be alright?" Arthur asked, his voice tight with fear.
"She's burning up," Gaius replied, his brow furrowed.
Gwen, her movements quick and efficient, wrung out a towel in the cool water. "You can cure her, can't you, Gaius?" Guinevere asked, her eyes pleading.
"I won't know until I can identify the poison," Gaius said, his attention focused on Artemis. "Pass me the goblet."
Gwen handed it to him. Gaius peered inside. "Ah," he murmured. "There's something stuck on the inside."
"What is it?" Arthur asked, his heart pounding.  He felt a surge of protectiveness towards Artemis, a fierce desire to shield her from harm.
"It looks like a flower petal of some kind," Gaius replied, examining the petal closely.
Gwen touched Artemis's forehead gently. "Her brow's on fire," she whispered, her voice filled with concern.
"Keep her cool," Gaius instructed. "It'll help control her fever." Gwen continued to tend to Artemis, dabbing her forehead with the damp towel. Merlyn hovered near, her hand resting protectively on Artemis's arm, her worry palpable.  She whispered soothing words to her daughter, her voice trembling slightly. Apollo stood beside her, his expression a mixture of fear and determination. He silently vowed to do whatever it took to save his twin sister.
Gaius, meanwhile, pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. He flipped through the pages, his fingers tracing the lines of text. "Ah," he said finally. "The petal comes from the Mortaeus flower." He read aloud from the book. "It says here that someone poisoned by the Mortaeus can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the very same flower. It can only be found in the caves deep beneath the Forest of Balor. The flower grows on the roots of the Mortaeus tree."
Arthur's expression darkened. "That's not particularly friendly," he muttered.
Gaius continued reading. "A Cockatrice. It guards the forest. Its venom is potent. A single drop would mean certain death. Few who have crossed the Mountains of Isgaard in search of the Mortaeus flower have made it back alive."
"Sounds like fun," Arthur said, a hint of grim determination in his voice.
Gaius looked at him, his expression serious. "Arthur, it's too dangerous."
Arthur met his gaze, his eyes filled with resolve. "If I don't get the antidote," he asked, his voice low, "what happens to Artemis?"
Gaius sighed, his face etched with worry. "The Mortaeus induces a slow and painful death," he explained. "She may hold out for four, maybe five days, but not for much longer. Eventually, she will die."

Arthur stood at the edge of the table, his fists clenched, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "I won't fail, no matter what you think."

Uther, standing tall and firm, narrowed his eyes. "Arthur, you are my only son and heir. I can't risk losing you for the sake of Artemis."

Arthur's gaze hardened. "Oh, so her life is worthless, then?"

"No," Uther replied, his voice cold and calculating. "It's just worth less than yours."

Arthur's jaw tightened, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. "I can save her. Let me take men—at least let me try."

"No," Uther snapped, unwavering.

Arthur's eyes flashed with determination. "We can find the antidote. We'll bring it back."

"I said no."

"Why not?!" Arthur's anger flared, but he quickly reined it in.

"Because one day, I will be dead. And Camelot will need a king. I'm not going to let you jeopardize the future of this kingdom for some foolish mission."

Arthur's breath caught, but he stood firm. "It's not foolish. Gaius says if we find the antidote..."

Uther's expression darkened. "Gaius says? That's exactly what makes it worthless."

"Please, Father," Arthur said, his voice thickening with emotion. He took a step forward, his eyes flickering with something Uther couldn't read. "She saved my life. I can't just let her die."

Uther's expression remained unchanged, but there was a subtle shift in his stance, as if his son's words had struck a nerve. "Then don't. She won't be the last to die for your cause. You'll have to get used to it."

Arthur's chest tightened. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. His voice dropped to a near whisper, the words almost lost in the tense silence. "I can't accept that."

Uther's glare bore into him, unyielding. "You're not going."

Arthur's heart hammered in his chest. His mind raced with thoughts of Artemis—her courage, her loyalty, and the quiet fear that he couldn't allow to take root. His words came out in a low murmur, more to himself than to his father. "You don't understand..."

"Enough!" Uther thundered, slamming his fist onto the table. "You're not leaving this castle tonight."

Arthur's gaze remained locked on his father, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He had no choice but to stay, but his heart told him the battle wasn't over. Not yet.

Arthur stormed into his chambers, his boots striking the stone floor with force. Without hesitation, he ripped the sword from his belt and hurled it onto the wooden table. The clang of steel against wood echoed through the room, but it did nothing to drown out the fury raging inside him.

His hands clenched into fists, his breathing uneven. He braced himself against the mantle above the fireplace, his knuckles white. The flames flickered wildly, casting erratic shadows against the walls—shadows that twisted and moved like the storm brewing in his chest.

Uther had all but sentenced Artemis to death.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down, but it was impossible. The memory of his father's cold, unyielding words rang in his ears. "Her life is worth less than yours."

Worth less.

Arthur exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tightening as he fought against the sheer rage that threatened to consume him.

The door creaked open.

"You know," Morgana's voice cut through the tense silence, light and teasing, but with an unmistakable edge, "say what you like about the food, but you can't beat our feasts for entertainment."

Arthur didn't turn. He was still gripping the mantle, his body wound tight. "Morgana, I should have made sure you were alright." His voice was low, controlled—but the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

Morgana stepped further into the room, arching a brow. "Disappointed, actually. I was looking forward to clumping a couple of them around the head with a ladle."

Arthur barely reacted. His fingers twitched against the stone. "I'm sure the guards could have handled Bayard and his men."

"Yes, but why let the boys have all the fun?" Morgana countered.

Arthur finally turned to face her, his expression dark and unreadable. "Morgana, you shouldn't get involved. It's dangerous."

She scoffed, folding her arms. "Spare me the lecture, I've already had it from Uther."

His brows furrowed. "If it's any consolation, you weren't the only one."

Morgana tilted her head, studying him. "Not that I listen to him," she said after a moment, then more pointedly, "Sometimes you have to do what you think is right and damn the consequences."

Arthur's jaw clenched. His thoughts immediately went to Artemis—small but fierce, her violet eyes burning with determination even as she lay weak, poisoned, fighting to breathe.

He looked away, shaking his head. "You think I should go?"

Morgana hesitated, but then, quietly, "It doesn't matter what I think."

Arthur inhaled sharply, his hands tightening at his sides. "If I don't make it back, who will be the next king of Camelot? There's more than just my life at stake." His voice was rough, pained.

Morgana took a slow step forward, watching him carefully. Then, without a word, she reached for his sword.

Arthur tensed as she lifted it from the table, the blade catching the firelight as she studied it.

"And what kind of king would Camelot want?" she mused, her voice quiet but unwavering. "One who would risk his life to save that of a lowly servant?" She turned to face him fully, her eyes locked onto his. "Or one who does what his father tells him to?"

She extended the sword to him, but Arthur hesitated. His fingers curled around the hilt, but his grip was tight—too tight.

Because this wasn't just about a servant.

This was his daughter.

And if Uther wouldn't save her, then Arthur would.

No matter the cost.

Artemis lay on the cot, her small body trembling with fever. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her skin burning to the touch. Sweat matted her dark hair to her forehead, and a red, circular rash spread ominously across her arm.

Merlyn knelt beside her daughter, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead. She had seen sickness before—had healed injuries and ailments with magic when no one was looking—but this was different. This was poison. And there was nothing she could do.

"Shh, sweet girl," she whispered, brushing Artemis's damp hair away from her face. "I'm here. I won't leave you."

A tiny, broken sound left Artemis's lips, and Merlyn had to bite back a sob.

Apollo sat on the opposite side of the cot, his small hands hovering over his sister's arm. His lower lip trembled, and his golden eyes were filled with unshed tears. "Mama, I can help."

Merlyn hesitated, her heart clenching. "Apollo, your healing—it's not strong enough yet."

"I have to try," Apollo insisted, his voice breaking. "I don't want Artemis to—" His throat bobbed, and he clenched his fists. "Papa's not here. Someone has to do something!"

Gaius, who had been flipping frantically through his books, turned sharply. "Apollo, if you use too much magic, you could drain yourself too fast. You're not ready—"

Apollo ignored him. His tiny hands began to glow with soft golden light as he pressed them against Artemis's burning skin. His face twisted in concentration, his whole body trembling with effort.

For a brief moment, Artemis's breathing steadied, and the tension in her body eased.

Merlyn gasped, hope surging in her chest. "Apollo—!"

But then Apollo's glow flickered. His hands shook violently, and his face contorted in pain. A wave of dizziness hit him, and suddenly, he collapsed against Merlyn's side.

"Apollo!" Merlyn caught him just before he hit the floor, cradling him against her chest. His skin was pale, his breathing labored.

"I—" Apollo shuddered, eyes fluttering weakly. "I—I tried, Mama..."

Merlyn's heart ached. He had poured everything he had into helping his sister, and it still wasn't enough.

Gaius quickly pressed his fingers to Apollo's wrist, nodding after a moment. "He's exhausted himself, but he'll recover."

Merlyn let out a shaky breath, holding Apollo close while her other hand reached for Artemis's. "You were so brave," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his curls.

Guinevere, watching the scene unfold with wide, teary eyes, spoke up. "She's getting hotter," she whispered, her voice thick with fear.

Gaius's face darkened as he inspected Artemis again. He carefully peeled back her sleeve, revealing the angry, spreading rash.

Merlyn's stomach turned.

"What is it?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Gaius's expression was grim. "The rash isn't supposed to appear until the final stage."

Silence filled the room. Merlyn felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs.

Guinevere paled. "What does that mean?"

Gaius exhaled sharply, flipping through the ancient pages of his book. His hands trembled slightly as he read aloud, "Once the rash appears, death will follow within two days."

The words sent a chill down Merlyn's spine. She pulled Artemis closer, as if holding her tighter could somehow protect her.

Guinevere swallowed hard. "But you said she had four days."

Gaius's mouth was set in a hard line. "Something has increased the flower's potency." His voice was tight, full of frustration. "The Mortaeus poison works more quickly if an enchantment was used during the flower's preparation."

Merlyn's breath caught. "Magic?"

Guinevere's brows knit together. "But Bayard's no sorcerer."

"No," Gaius muttered. "He isn't."

Merlyn looked down at Artemis, her mind racing. If this was sorcery, then someone had intended for Artemis to die. Someone had known who she was. A chill ran through her, but she pushed the fear away. Now wasn't the time for panic.

Guinevere suddenly straightened, realization flashing in her eyes. "Then who did this?"

Gaius's face was dark with suspicion. "It can't have been..." He hesitated. "She wouldn't dare come here. Unless—"

Guinevere turned to him. "Unless what?"

Gaius exhaled sharply. "What happened to that girl?"

Guinevere blinked. "Which girl?"

"Just before Artemis collapsed—one of Bayard's serving girls took her outside," Gaius said urgently.

Guinevere gasped, her mind reeling back to the banquet. "She had dark hair," she whispered. "Very beautiful..."

Merlyn's grip on Artemis tightened. Whoever this girl was, she had done this.

Gaius turned to Guinevere, his voice filled with urgency. "Find her. Quickly."

Guinevere nodded and rushed out of the room.

Merlyn looked down at her daughter, her hand stroking Artemis's damp curls. "Hold on, my love," she whispered. "Papa is coming."

Artemis stirred slightly, her lips parting as she breathed out a single, broken word.

"Papa... swa..."

Merlyn squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears. Arthur would bring the antidote. He had to. And until then, she would not leave Artemis's side.

She just had to keep her alive long enough for him to get back.

The torches in the great hall flickered wildly as Uther paced back and forth, his expression thunderous. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight with barely contained rage.

"I expressly ordered Arthur not to go!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber.

Morgana, lounging against the desk with her arms crossed, arched a brow. "I'd say it worked like a charm, too."

Uther whirled on her, eyes flashing. "Not another word!"

She smirked, pushing off the desk with a casual shrug. "My lips are sealed."

Uther turned away, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "I should've put him under lock and key," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Morgana let out a soft scoff. "You can't chain him up every time he disagrees with you."

Uther's head snapped up, his glare sharp as a blade. "Just you watch me!" His voice was sharp, edged with desperation. "I will not be disobeyed! Especially by my own son!"

Morgana simply shook her head. "No. Of course you won't," she said smoothly, though the amusement in her voice was unmistakable.

With an air of indifference, she moved toward her desk and picked up a quill, poised to write, ignoring the way Uther's presence loomed behind her.

But Uther wasn't finished. He strode forward, eyes narrowing as realization dawned on him.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

Morgana's quill hovered over the parchment.

Uther took another step closer. "Morgana..." His voice was low, threatening. "Don't lie to me."

Morgana finally turned to face him, unbothered by the fury radiating from him. She had known the truth for a long time—Artemis was Arthur's daughter. But Uther could never know. If he did, Artemis wouldn't just be a servant girl whose life was considered disposable—she'd be seen as an illegitimate threat to his throne. Morgana had no love for Uther, but for Arthur's sake, she had kept his secret. And she would continue to do so.

"Arthur's old enough to make decisions for himself," she said simply, deflecting.

Uther's expression darkened. "He's just a boy."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Have you seen your son recently?" she asked, voice measured but laced with something almost like pity. "Really seen him?" She let the words settle before continuing, her tone soft but firm. "You have to let him make his own mind up."

Uther's nostrils flared. "Even if it means letting him go to his death?"

Morgana met his gaze, unflinching. She thought of Artemis, fevered and fading, and of Arthur's unwavering determination to bring her back.

"Especially then."

Artemis tossed and turned, her small body wracked with fever as faint murmurs escaped her lips. Gaius knelt beside her, carefully peeling back the sleeve of her tunic. His stomach dropped. The rash had spread further across her delicate skin, its dark tendrils stark against her pale complexion. This was progressing too quickly.

The door creaked open, and Gwen stepped inside, her breath uneven from running. She shook her head. "No one has seen her since the banquet."

Gaius exhaled sharply. "Let me guess, she wasn't there."

Gwen crossed her arms, glancing between him and Artemis. "Who is she?"

Gaius hesitated. He had suspected from the moment the poison took hold, but now, with Artemis deteriorating before his eyes, he was certain. His voice was grave.

"Not who she claims to be."

Gwen frowned. "But you know, don't you?"

Gaius's gaze flickered toward the book on his table. "Cara," he said. "Though that's not her name. Not her real name, anyway."

Gwen's stomach twisted. "Then who is she?"

"A powerful sorceress."

Gwen's breath hitched. "We should tell Uther," she urged. "Maybe he could send riders after her."

Gaius shook his head. "No, she'll be long gone by now. It's impossible to know where she's gone, though..." His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. His face paled.

"Oh, no."

Gwen tensed. "What?"

Gaius turned to her, his voice urgent. "She knows the only place an antidote can be found is the Forest of Balor. Arthur could be walking into a trap."

On the bed, Artemis whimpered, her body curling in on itself. "Papa..." she murmured weakly. "Papa..."

Near the bedside, Apollo's small frame tensed. His golden eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he watched his sister suffer.

"Mama..." he turned toward Merlyn, his voice breaking. "I—I can help her."

Merlyn, kneeling beside the bed, brushed damp hair from Artemis's forehead. Her heart ached at how frail her daughter looked. She pressed a gentle kiss to Artemis's burning temple before turning to her son. "Apollo..."

But he was already reaching out, pressing his tiny hands to Artemis's forehead. A soft, golden glow pulsed from his fingertips, warm and flickering like candlelight.

For a moment, Gwen held her breath.

Then Artemis shuddered, her breathing turning shallow. The rash darkened further, her fever burning hotter. Apollo gasped, stumbling back as the light around him flickered and died. "It—it's not working," he whispered, his small hands shaking. "I—I can't fix it."

Gaius caught the boy's shoulders, steadying him. "It's not your fault, Apollo." He sighed, his face lined with exhaustion. "This magic is stronger. It's unnatural. You don't have the cure."

Apollo bit his lip, trying not to cry.

Merlyn pulled him into her arms, holding him close, even as her gaze remained locked on her daughter. Artemis's tiny frame trembled beneath the weight of the poison, her fevered skin burning against her mother's touch.

Gwen swallowed hard, her voice quiet but resolute. "Then Arthur has to."

Arthur led his horse carefully through the dense undergrowth, his eyes scanning the forest with sharp precision. The moonlight barely pierced the thick canopy, casting eerie shadows that danced in the wind. His grip on the reins tightened. He didn't have time to waste—Artemis needed the antidote, and every second lost brought her closer to death.

A faint sound broke through the rustling leaves—a soft, pitiful weeping. Arthur halted, ears straining. He turned toward the sound, following the uneven sobs until he reached a fallen log.

A woman sat hunched over, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Faint bruises marred her pale skin, her long dark hair falling messily over her face. She looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Hello?" Arthur called cautiously, stepping closer. "Are you alright?"

Before she could answer, a guttural roar split the air.

Arthur's blood ran cold.

Behind him, something massive stirred in the darkness. A beast with leathery wings and razor-sharp talons slithered from beneath a fallen tree, its reptilian eyes glinting with hunger. A Cockatrice.

Arthur spun, instinct taking over. "Stay back!" he ordered, positioning himself between the woman and the creature.

The Cockatrice lunged. Arthur rolled under it, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws. Dust and leaves erupted around him as he came up on one knee, sword already poised. The beast whirled, but Arthur was faster. With a swift, calculated throw, his blade pierced the creature's throat. It let out a final shriek before crumpling to the ground.

Arthur exhaled, his chest rising and falling with exertion. He turned back to the woman, but something in her expression made his stomach twist. She wasn't afraid. In fact, for the briefest moment, she looked... displeased. But as soon as their eyes met, she gasped, scrambling backward in feigned terror.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "It's alright," he said, lowering his hands to show he meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you." His gaze flickered to her bruises. "Who did that to you?"

The woman hesitated before lowering her head. "My master," she whispered. "I ran away, but then I got lost." She clutched at his sleeve, eyes pleading. "Please don't leave me."

Arthur felt a twinge of unease, but he kept his expression steady. "I won't," he assured her. "I'm not going to."

A slow smile flickered across her lips. "You can take me away from here?"

"Not yet." Arthur glanced toward the yawning mouth of a cave in the distance, his resolve hardening. "There's something I have to do first."

The woman followed his gaze. "Why have you come to the caves?"

Arthur hesitated. He didn't trust her, but he needed to get inside as quickly as possible. "I'm looking for something," he answered vaguely. "It can only be found here."

The woman's head tilted. "What is it?"

Arthur hesitated again, but then she offered, "I know this place. I could help you."

He studied her carefully before deciding to take the risk. "A flower. It only grows inside the cave. It's rare."

Recognition flickered across her face. "The Mortaeus flower," she murmured. Then she smiled. "I know where they are. I'll show you."

Arthur clenched his jaw but nodded, gripping his torch tighter as they stepped into the cavern's depths.

Merlyn paced nervously by her daughter Artemis' bed, her eyes flickering over the weak form of the girl she would do anything to save. Artemis' fever had climbed, her skin flushed with the poison coursing through her veins. Merlyn could barely focus on anything other than the desperate need to help her daughter. She had seen the signs—knew this was no ordinary illness. Gaius had been clear: if they didn't get the antidote in time, it would be too late.

But the antidote was far, far away, and Arthur was out there, searching for it in the Forest of Balor, where danger awaited.

Artemis lay motionless on the bed, her breathing shallow, her pulse weak. Her face was pale, and her lips were cracked, the skin dry from fever. Merlyn could feel the panic rising in her chest, but she fought to keep her composure. The last thing Artemis needed right now was to see her mother unraveling.

A weak voice broke the silence.

"Papa... swa..." Artemis whispered, her eyes fluttering open just a fraction, her gaze unfocused as she reached out, her hand trembling.

Merlyn's heart clenched, and she leaned over her daughter, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Stay with me, sweetheart," she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Papa will be back soon. He's going to bring the antidote. I promise."

But the words felt hollow. Merlyn could sense the life slipping from her daughter with every breath. The poison was working quickly, far faster than they'd anticipated.

Nearby, Apollo stood, watching helplessly. His brow was furrowed, and his hands hovered over his sister, his healing powers strained to their limit. But even Apollo's abilities weren't enough to undo what had already been done. He clenched his fists, frustration clear on his face. "I can't—there's nothing I can do. I'm so sorry."

Merlyn's eyes met his for a moment, and she gave him a look of quiet understanding. There was no fault in his efforts. No one had the power to stop this, not without the antidote.

Arthur's heart pounded in his chest as he carefully made his way through the dark, narrow passageways of the cave. The flickering light of his torch cast long shadows against the cold stone walls. He was so close, so close to finding the rare Mortaeus flower, the one thing that could save his daughter.

Artemis. His baby girl.

He had never been more terrified in his life. The thought of losing her, of never seeing her smile again, it consumed him. Yet, he couldn't let that fear paralyze him. He couldn't fail her. Not again.

As he rounded a bend in the cave, the flowers came into view, glowing faintly in the dim light. They were across a large gap, with a narrow ledge stretching out toward them. The drop below was dizzying.

Arthur steadied himself, carefully approaching the edge. "Stay back from the edge," he called to Nimueh, who was trailing behind him. "Don't worry. We'll be out of here soon."

Nimueh gave him a look, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Eorthe, lyft, fyr, waeter, hiersumie me."

Arthur looked up in confusion just as the ground beneath him began to tremble. Rocks shifted, and the very cave seemed to shake.

"What are you doing?!" Arthur shouted, stumbling backward as the earth seemed to come alive, shifting under his feet.

Nimueh's smile widened as she stood back, watching. "Eorthe ac stanas hiersumie me. Ic can stanas tobrytan..."

The rocks crumbled beneath him, and with a desperate leap, Arthur barely caught the opposite ledge with his hand, the torch falling into the abyss below. His heart raced in his chest as he gripped the rough stone, trying to steady himself.

"I expected so much more," Nimueh said with a mock pout, her eyes gleaming with something darker. "Who are you?! What do you want?" Arthur demanded, struggling to hold onto the ledge.

Nimueh stepped closer, her voice a low whisper. "The last face you'll ever see."

As if on cue, a giant spider appeared, its eyes gleaming in the darkness. It skittered toward him with menacing speed. Arthur's grip tightened on the ledge as he drew his sword, swinging it with all his might at the creature. He fought, even as the spider lunged, its pincers snapping just inches from his face.

With one swift strike, he killed the creature, but more were sure to follow. Nimueh watched with a cruel smile, her expression almost pitying. "Very good. But he won't be the last. I'll let his friends finish you off, Arthur Pendragon. It's not your destiny to die at my hand."

Arthur glared at her, fear and anger flooding his chest, but she simply turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving him dangling in the dark, alone.

"Who are you?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the cave.

Back in the castle, Merlyn stood close to Artemis, her hand resting gently on her daughter's forehead as the fever raged on. Artemis' breathing had grown shallow, and Merlyn knew time was running out.

Suddenly, Artemis stirred again, her eyes opening slightly, her lips moving in a soft, painful whisper. "Papa... please..."

Merlyn's heart broke as she leaned closer. "Papa will be back soon, darling," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I promise."

But deep down, she feared that the promise she was making might be one she couldn't keep.

Artemis stirred restlessly on the bed, her feverish breath quick and shallow. Her hand twitched, and her lips parted as though trying to speak, but no words came. Merlyn hovered close, her worry etched deeply in her features. The room felt suffocating with the weight of time running out, and yet all she could do was watch, helpless, as her daughter teetered on the edge of life and death.

"Papa... it's too dark," Artemis mumbled faintly, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind lost in delirium. "Too dark. Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme. Fromum feohgiftum."

Merlyn flinched at the words. Even in her fevered state, Artemis seemed to speak in fragments of strange languages, ancient words that Merlyn barely understood but instinctively recognized. It pained her to hear her daughter, so young and vulnerable, speak words she couldn't follow.

Across the room, Gaius was carefully inspecting a glowing ball of light that Artemis had inadvertently summoned, its soft radiance barely visible in the dim light of the chamber. He squinted, folding the bed sheets carefully around the light, trying to keep it contained.

"Artemis," Gaius said softly, his voice filled with concern as he noticed her unnatural glow. "What are you doing?"

Merlyn's heart skipped. Artemis wasn't fully aware of her actions, but her powers—those powers they all had to keep secret—were manifesting without her control. Even in her weakened state, the magic was surging.

Merlyn gently placed her hand on Artemis' forehead again, brushing her daughter's damp hair away from her face. "Don't worry, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice trembling. "Papa will bring the antidote. He'll be back soon."

But the glowing light in Artemis' hand, and the strange words she uttered, told Merlyn all she needed to know—time was running out.

Artemis lay motionless, her breath slow and labored, her hand gripping a soft ball of glowing light. She had no control over it—her magic running wild as her fever grew worse. Merlyn, standing nearby, couldn't bear to watch her child struggle like this, unable to protect her from the curse of the poison that had taken root in her body.

From her place at Artemis' side, Merlyn whispered softly, "Papa will be back soon, sweetheart. I promise."

Arthur gripped the edge of the ledge, staring up into the dim cave. The Mortaeus flower glimmered faintly above him, just out of reach. His heart raced, the urgency of the situation sinking deeper with each second.

The faint light flickered above, drawing his attention. Follow the light, just a little longer, Arthur thought, pushing himself up with renewed strength. The light floated above him, seeming to lead him as the spiders screeched in the shadows, crawling toward him with hunger.

"Come on, then! What are you waiting for?! Finish me off!" Arthur shouted defiantly, his voice echoing in the dark, though he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd face the deadly creatures.

He pulled himself higher, ignoring the danger, determined to reach the flower for Artemis. The light danced ahead, but something inside him—his father's voice, his fear—urged him on.

"Leave them, Arthur. Go. Save yourself," a faint voice echoed, but it wasn't Gaius this time. It was a whisper, coming from within him, from a source only his heart could identify.

The light hovered higher. Focus, he reminded himself, the antidote for Artemis.

Arthur reached the wall, his hand closing over the precious Mortaeus flower. He swiftly tucked it into his pouch, and before he could process what happened next, the spiders were upon him, swarming from all sides. His sword slashed through the first wave, but more crawled forward.

"Faster. Go faster. Follow the light!" he heard the voice again, urging him. He didn't hesitate. He had no choice but to keep climbing.

With each pull, his body screamed with exhaustion, but his thoughts were fixed solely on his daughter. Artemis needed this—he would not fail her.

The sound of hooves clattering against stone echoed across the courtyard. Arthur's horse came into view, its rider slumped but determined, carrying the precious antidote to his daughter.

At the battlements, the guards saw him approach.

"Inform the King! Arthur has returned to Camelot!" shouted Gregory.

Arthur's heart raced as he approached the drawbridge gate, his body heavy with exhaustion. But his focus remained. He could feel the weight of his daughter's life in his hands.

As he drew closer to the gate, the guards moved to block his path.

"What are you doing? Let me pass," Arthur demanded, his voice low and commanding.

"I'm sorry, Sire. You're under arrest, by order of the King," Gregory replied, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward to stop him.

Arthur froze for only a moment, the tension heavy. He couldn't afford to waste time, not with Artemis' life at stake.

Arthur stormed into the chamber, his heart pounding. He was exhausted, his mind racing with the events that had unfolded, but his worry for Artemis far outweighed everything else. He couldn't lose her—not like this. She was his daughter, his responsibility.

Uther stood by the table, arms crossed, his face grim.

"You disobeyed me," Uther's voice cut through the tension.

Arthur met his father's gaze, unwavering. "Of course I did. A man's life was at stake. Do not let Artemis die because of something I did."

Uther's eyes narrowed, his expression cold. "Why do you care so much? She's just a child."

Arthur's fists clenched, frustration rising. "She knew the danger she was putting herself in. She knew what would happen if she didn't get that flower, but she did it anyway. She saved my life. There's more. There was a woman at the mountain. She knew I was there for the flower. I don't think it was Bayard who tried to poison me."

Uther dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. "Of course it was."

Arthur's chest tightened as he pulled out the Mortaeus flower, the fragile hope for Artemis' survival. He stepped closer to his father, his voice urgent. "Gaius knows what to do with it."

Uther took the flower from Arthur's hands, inspecting it briefly.

Arthur's voice cracked with desperation. "Put me in the stocks for a week, a month even, I don't care. Just make sure it gets to him. I'm begging you."

Uther's face twisted into something dark, and with a brutal motion, he squeezed the flower in his fist, crushing it into nothing.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat. "No!"

Uther's voice was cold as stone. "You have to learn there's a right and a wrong way of doing things. I'll see you're let out in a week. Then you can find yourself another child."

Arthur's heart sank as Uther dropped the remains of the crushed flower just outside his cell door. He rushed to the bars, stretching his hand through them in a desperate attempt to reach the flower, but it was just beyond his grasp. His fingers brushed the cold stone as the guards locked the door behind him, leaving him trapped in his helplessness.

Gaius stood by the bed, his face etched with concern. He looked down at Artemis, her breath shallow and rapid as she struggled against the fever that gripped her.

"She hasn't got much longer," Gaius muttered, a grim look on his face. "Has Arthur got the flower?"

Guinevere stood at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands, her face pale with worry. "I don't know. Uther won't allow anyone to see him. Is there nothing we can do to help?"

Gaius shook his head, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth. "Only the leaf of the Mortaeus flower can save her."

"And we have to find out if Arthur has it," Guinevere said, a spark of determination in her eyes. "I could sneak into the dungeon."

"That would be very dangerous," Gaius warned, concern lacing his words.

Guinevere didn't hesitate. "I've got to. Artemis will die if I don't."

Artemis' shallow breaths filled the room, and Gaius sighed, knowing the risks she was willing to take. "Be careful," he murmured, watching her as she headed out the door.

Guinevere hurried down the Wrought Iron Stairway, a plate of food in her hands. She approached the guard standing by Arthur's cell, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Food for the prisoner," she said quietly, keeping her voice steady as she handed the plate to him.

The guard unlocked the door and stepped aside to let her pass. Arthur, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looked up at her with an expression that held a mix of weariness and disdain.

"Set it down over there," Arthur said, motioning to the small table. Guinevere complied, but as she stepped back, her gaze fell on the plate of food, and she saw something that made her breath catch in her throat—the Mortaeus flower.

Arthur stood up and moved toward the table, his movements stiff. "Thank you," he said, his voice flat, as if trying to make the best of a grim situation.

Guinevere turned to leave, but then Arthur's voice stopped her.

"Wait a minute."

She turned back to find him putting the plate down again. He walked back to his seat on the floor and looked at the food, his expression twisted with disgust.

"I couldn't possibly eat this. It's disgusting. The state it's in, I'm not sure it's fit for anyone," Arthur said, the bitterness clear in his voice.

Guinevere walked back to the table, her heart racing. She picked up the plate, and her eyes lit up when she saw the flower resting on the edge, hidden beneath the bread and meat.

She glanced quickly at Arthur, then back at the plate, and without another word, she slipped the flower into her sleeve and turned to leave.

Just as she made her way back to the door, a voice called out.

"You. Wait!"

Guinevere froze, and the guard approached, his eyes narrowing as he picked over the plate of food. He grabbed a hunk of bread and gave her a sarcastic grin.

"Waste not, want not, eh?" he said with a grunt, his eyes flicking to the empty space where the flower had been. "We're not all as precious as our Royal Highness."

Guinevere didn't hesitate. She dropped the plate and bolted for the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest as the guard's voice echoed behind her.

Guinevere burst into Gaius's chambers, her breath quick and anxious. "How is she?" she asked, her eyes darting to Artemis's pale form on the bed.

Gaius didn't look up immediately but continued his work with the Mortaeus flower. "Have you got the Mortaeus?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

Guinevere nodded quickly, pulling the bundle from her sleeve. "Here," she said, pressing it into his hands.

Gaius took the bundle, his face filled with urgency. "Her breathing's much worse. We need to act fast."

Guinevere rushed to Artemis's side, sitting beside her and taking her cold hand in her own. "Please, Artemis," she whispered under her breath. "Please be okay."

Merlyn, who had been standing in the corner, stepped forward. Her heart ached as she looked at her daughter, so still and pale in the bed. Her instincts as a mother were screaming at her to do something, anything, to help her. But all she could do was stand there and hope. Her usually confident eyes were filled with worry and fear as she placed a hand on her forehead, brushing away a lock of hair with a tenderness that only a mother could possess.

Gaius worked quickly, crushing the Mortaeus leaf into a fine powder, but his gaze kept darting to Merlyn, knowing the urgency of the situation. "I need fresh water," Gaius said urgently, his voice betraying his concern.

Without hesitation, Guinevere grabbed a bowl and rushed out of the room. Merlyn's gaze never left Artemis as she leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, whispering, "You have to be strong, my love. You have to fight."

As Gaius prepared the potion, Merlyn's hands shook slightly, her motherly instincts pulling her close to her daughter. "Please, Artemis, please come back to me," she muttered, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

Gaius began to chant under his breath, performing an incantation as the potion bubbled in the bowl. The air was thick with magic, and Merlyn's pulse quickened as she watched.

"Sythan arrest wearth feasceaft funden. Denum æfter dome. Dreamleas gebad he gewinnes longsum."

The potion fizzled and hissed. Merlyn stood rigid, torn between wanting to step forward to help and the deep fear that clung to him like a shadow.

Guinevere returned with the water, her face pale but resolute. She handed the bowl to Gaius, who poured it into the potion, then moved to Artemis's side. "Hold her nose," Gaius instructed, his voice strained.

Guinevere immediately did as instructed, her fingers trembling as she pinched Artemis's nose closed. Merlyn hovered beside them, her hand resting lightly on Artemis's shoulder. Her love for her was so deep, so encompassing, that it nearly choked her to see her like this.

Gaius poured the potion into Artemis's mouth, his voice soft but insistent. "Swallow, Artemis. Please swallow."

Seconds felt like hours. Guinevere's eyes were wide, her own breath held in fearful anticipation. "She's stopped breathing," she whispered in a panicked tone. "Gaius, what's happening?"

Gaius leaned in, his ear pressed to Artemis's chest. His face paled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Her heart has stopped."

"No..." Merlyn gasped, her voice cracking. Her hand reached out, hovering over Artemis as though she could somehow will her to breathe again. Her eyes were filled with a profound sadness, tears welling up as she silently begged for her to come back to her.

Guinevere's heart ached for both of them, and she moved closer to Merlyn, her own grief mixing with his. "Is she dead?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.

"No," Gaius said firmly, though there was a touch of uncertainty in his voice. "She can't be. It's her destiny... she can't be gone."

Merlyn couldn't contain the overwhelming grief anymore. Her chest tightened, and she dropped her head, her hand clutching her heart as though it was being torn apart. She was helpless, feeling her daughter slipping away from her with every passing second.

"I should've done more," Merlyn whispered brokenly. "I should have been able to save you."

Guinevere moved closer, placing her hand on her back in a silent attempt to comfort her, but the raw pain in Merlyn's eyes was something she couldn't fix.

Then, just as the silence became unbearable, a small, familiar voice broke through the heavy gloom.

"That's disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself. You're old enough to be her grandfather."

Merlyn's head shot up in shock. Guinevere gasped, her heart leaping in her chest, and both of them turned to find Artemis sitting up, weak but very much alive.

"Artemis?" Merlyn whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion, disbelief, and overwhelming relief. "You're... you're awake?"

"No," Artemis said with a small, pained smile, her voice weaker than usual. "I'm the ghost come back to haunt you."

Tears welled up in Merlyn's eyes as she quickly moved to her side. Her hand reached for her, trembling as she brushed her hair back from her face. "You scared me," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Guinevere rushed forward, relief flooding her heart, and without thinking, she leaned down and kissed Artemis's forehead, her own tears falling. "I thought I lost you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Artemis smiled faintly, weak but reassured by the love surrounding her. "It's fine, Mama. I'm fine."

Just then, the door creaked open, and Apollo stepped inside. His eyes immediately locked onto his sister, his face softening with a mixture of relief and affection. Without a word, he rushed to her side and knelt down beside her, his hand gently holding hers.

"Artemis," Apollo whispered, his voice shaking with the weight of his emotions. "I thought I lost you too." He squeezed her hand, his heart swelling with love and protectiveness.

Artemis gave him a small, tired smile and squeezed his hand back, though she still looked frail. "I'm here, Apollo. I'm not going anywhere."

Merlyn's gaze softened as she watched the siblings, her heart swelling with both love and the bittersweet realization of how close they had come to losing Artemis. She gently laid her hand on Apollo's shoulder. "I'm so proud of both of you," she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.

Gaius moved to check Artemis's vitals, though the smile on his face reflected the relief he felt. "You're lucky, Artemis. Very lucky."

Merlyn nodded, her hand resting lightly on her arm. "We all are," she said quietly, her heart finally beginning to settle as she watched her children and their bond of love and protection for each other.

Gaius entered the room where Uther was in the midst of consulting with his advisors, his face lined with concern. "Sire, forgive the interruption, but may I speak with you?" he asked, his tone urgent.

Uther, standing tall at the head of the room, turned his gaze to Gaius but didn't give an immediate response. "Not now," he replied briskly, his mind clearly elsewhere as he continued to speak with his men.

"But, Your Highness, it is important," Gaius pressed, a hint of worry in his voice.

Uther finally turned, his impatience obvious. "Word of Bayard's arrest has got back to Mercia," he said, the weight of the situation clear in his words. "We're about to be attacked."

"I feel that what I have to tell you may have some bearing on your plans," Gaius insisted. "Please, it will only take a moment."

Seeing the urgency in the physician's eyes, Uther stepped aside, signaling Gaius to speak.

Gaius didn't waste a second. "I know who tried to poison Arthur."

Uther narrowed his eyes. "So do I. He's locked in my dungeons," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"It wasn't Bayard," Gaius replied sharply. "The poison was magical. And I'd recognize the hand that made it anywhere. It was Nimueh."

Uther's expression darkened, and he shook his head. "You must be mistaken."

"I wish I was," Gaius said, his voice filled with regret. "But I'm certain. She's a powerful sorceress. She can enchant the eye that beholds her. We never knew it was her."

Uther's eyes narrowed as he processed Gaius's words, his jaw tightening. "It can't have been. We'd know her. That witch's face is not easily forgotten."

Gaius hesitated before replying, his gaze meeting Uther's with quiet intensity. "She's not as easily detected as you think. She hides her power well, and we've all been blind to it."

Uther remained silent for a moment, his mind racing. "Have you any proof?" he asked, though the skepticism in his voice was unmistakable.

Gaius nodded solemnly. "The poison used against Merlin was made more potent by the use of magic," he explained. "It bears her signature—she's the one behind this, not Bayard."

Uther's face hardened as he processed Gaius's revelation. "Are you saying that she conspired with Bayard to kill Arthur?"

"No," Gaius responded quickly, shaking his head. "Bayard is innocent. This... this is what Nimueh has wanted all along. A war. A war to bring strife and misery to Camelot."

Uther stood silently for a moment, deep in thought, his fingers resting on the table in front of him. Then, his voice broke the silence, a sense of urgency creeping in. "How long before Bayard's armies reach our walls?"

Sir Cador, standing to the side, responded immediately. "A day. Maybe less. We should send cavalry out to meet them."

Uther's gaze remained steely. "Instruct your men not to leave Camelot until I give the word."

"Yes, Sire," Sir Cador replied, bowing low before exiting with the knights, leaving Uther and Gaius alone.

Gaius moved closer to Uther, his voice low but earnest. "You are making the right decision, Sire."

Uther remained standing, his hands gripping the back of his chair as he turned to face Gaius fully. "Do you think Arthur should be told the truth about Nimueh?" he asked, his voice reflecting a mixture of guilt and uncertainty.

Gaius hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's a hard truth, Sire. But Arthur is no fool. He deserves to know what's happening, even if it brings him more danger."

Uther's expression softened, but only for a moment, as the weight of the situation pressed down upon him. "I don't want to put Arthur in any more peril than he already is."

"I understand," Gaius said quietly. "But you must trust him. He is strong, and he needs to know what lies ahead."

Uther looked away, lost in thought for a moment, before giving a reluctant nod. "I will think on it."

The room fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air as Uther stared out of the window, a kingdom on the verge of chaos.

Arthur, Morgana, and Uther stood on the battlements, watching as Bayard and his men rode away from Camelot, the air still thick with tension. Morgana, never one to hold back, broke the silence with her usual sharpness. "Okay. Let the bragging begin. How'd you manage it?"

Arthur, gazing out over the horizon, his thoughts momentarily drifting to Merlyn and their children, replied, his voice distant, "I'm not sure. All I do know is I had help. Someone knew I was in trouble and sent a light to guide the way."

Morgana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who?"

Arthur hesitated, his thoughts flickering to Merlyn's or Artemis' gentle presence, their quiet strength, and the magic that flowed so effortlessly through them. But he knew he couldn't reveal that to Morgana, nor to Uther. "I don't know. But whoever it was, I'm only here because of them."

Morgana studied him for a moment before offering a rare smile, albeit one laced with a touch of her usual sarcasm. "I'm glad you're back."

She turned to leave, leaving Arthur alone with Uther.

Uther's gaze remained fixed on the retreating soldiers. "Arthur? The woman you met in the forest, what did she tell you?"

Arthur's mind flashed to Merlyn's worried eyes as she'd watched him leave, the way she always seemed to know when danger was near. His heart tightened. He couldn't—wouldn't—betray her. "Not much. She was too busy trying to get me killed. It was strange, though."

"In what way?" Uther pressed, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

Arthur's thoughts briefly flickered to Merlyn's magical abilities, which, like their children's, could never be known to Uther. "I was at her mercy. She could have finished me off, but she chose not to. She said it wasn't my destiny to die at her hand."

Uther's face tightened, an almost predatory gleam in his eye. "You must've been scared."

Arthur's expression hardened, memories of Merlyn's quiet strength and the protective instinct she always displayed toward him, no matter the danger, rose in his mind. "Had its moments," Arthur admitted, his voice steady but guarded. But then, his thoughts returned to his children, to Artemis and Apollo, and to the powerful bond he shared with Merlyn. His protective instincts flared as he thought of the need to keep them all safe—especially her.

Uther's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Arthur's jaw clenched at the familiar words. "Those who practice magic know only evil. They despise and seek to destroy goodness wherever they find it. Which is why she wanted you dead. She is evil."

Arthur's gaze hardened as he looked at Uther, the words a bitter echo of everything his father had ever taught him. But his thoughts were with Merlyn, the woman he loved, who carried a magic as pure as any light. "Sounds as if you know her," Arthur said, a subtle challenge in his tone, though he knew Uther would never understand.

"I do," Uther replied firmly, his belief in the righteousness of his cause unshakable. "To know the heart of one sorcerer is to know them all. You did the right thing. Even though you were disobeying me." Uther's gaze softened, and for a moment, the wall of authority between father and son seemed to crack. "I'm proud of you, Arthur. Never forget that."

Arthur didn't respond right away, his thoughts clouded with the weight of everything he kept hidden—his children's magic, Merlyn's hidden power, and his refusal to let his father know the truth. The love he felt for Merlyn, his future wife, surged through him. She was the one person who saw him for who he truly was, and he would protect her with his life.

But he would never let Uther know the depth of that protection, or the secrets they shared.

Certainly! Here's the scene in a more narrative form:

Artemis lay on the table in Gaius's chambers, her body still recovering from the poison she had been forced to drink. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of Merlyn's magic as she worked tirelessly to heal her daughter. Apollo sat beside Artemis, his small hand wrapped around hers, watching her intently with the silent concern of a brother who couldn't quite keep the worry from his eyes. Merlyn, too, stood vigil, her gaze never leaving Artemis's pale face as she focused on her work, her protective instincts running strong.

The door creaked open, and Arthur stepped inside. His eyes immediately sought out Merlyn, and upon seeing her, his expression softened. He took in the sight of Artemis lying so still and pale, and a quiet but fierce protectiveness surged within him. He made his way over to the table, his footsteps light as if he feared disturbing the fragile healing process.

"Still with us, then?" Arthur's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he approached Merlyn.

Merlyn looked up at him, her face weary but thankful. She gave him a small nod. "She's strong. She'll make it."

Arthur nodded, though his gaze lingered on Artemis. It was clear to him how much this girl meant to Merlyn, to their family. The bond between mother and daughter was evident, as was Merlyn's unyielding dedication to protecting her children.

Beside him, Apollo shifted, looking up at Arthur with a faint, grateful smile. He reached out, his small hand lightly resting on Arthur's arm. "She's a fighter, Papa," he said softly, a quiet pride in his voice. "You should've seen her. She wouldn't give up."

Arthur looked down at Apollo, his expression softening. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "She's just like you," Arthur said, his tone full of affection. "Determined. Strong-willed. She'll pull through."

Merlyn watched them, the warmth of Arthur's words a comfort, though her heart still ached with worry. The protective way he spoke to Apollo, the way he cared for Artemis—it was all so much more than words. Arthur was truly invested in their family, and that knowledge gave Merlyn a small measure of peace in the midst of her anxiety.

Artemis stirred slightly in her sleep, her breathing shallow but steady. Arthur knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers gentle. He looked at her for a moment, his gaze softening. He was surprised by how strongly he felt for this girl, this child of Merlyn's, and how fiercely he wanted to see her well again. She had become part of his world, too, and he wasn't about to let her go without a fight.

"She's my daughter," Arthur said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "I'll protect her."

Merlyn's eyes met his then, a moment of quiet understanding between them. She didn't need to ask him to protect them. It was already clear to her that he would do whatever it took. Arthur's love for her, and his care for their children, was something that she would never take for granted.

"Thank you," Merlyn said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "For being here."

Arthur stood slowly, not looking back at her immediately. His eyes were still on Artemis, but his voice, when he spoke again, was steady and filled with promise.

"You don't need to thank me, Merlyn," Arthur said. "She's my family too. You all are."

Merlyn felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of relief and gratitude. She reached out, her hand lightly touching his arm. There was something in the way he spoke—something that reassured her, that made her believe in the strength of their bond. She felt, in that moment, that they would all be okay, no matter what.

Arthur turned to leave, casting one last look at Artemis, his gaze soft but full of unspoken affection.

"Rest well, Artemis," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You'll be back on your feet in no time."

Merlyn stood quietly, watching him leave. Her heart ached for her daughter, but there was something in Arthur's words, in his quiet devotion, that calmed her. They had a family here, a family she would protect at all costs.

Gaius watched the exchange, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Arthur may not always show it, but he cares deeply for you and your children," he said softly, sensing the unspoken connection between them.

Merlyn nodded, though she didn't take her eyes off the door where Arthur had just exited. Her heart was still heavy, but it was lighter than it had been before. She knew they were not alone in this fight, and for that, she was grateful.

"I know," she murmured. "I just... hope he can keep us all safe."

Gaius's expression softened, and he gave a reassuring nod.

"He will, Merlyn. You're not alone in this."

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows against the walls of Arthur's chambers. Arthur and Merlyn stood near the window, both deep in thought, knowing the next conversation they had would change everything. Artemis was still resting, recovering from the poison, with Apollo close by, and now, the truth about their family's secret was poised to come to light.

After a long silence, Arthur finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "She knows. Gwen knows about Artemis."

Merlyn turned to face him, her eyes soft yet filled with concern. "I had a feeling. She's too sharp to miss something like that."

Arthur's jaw tightened as he nodded. "It's only a matter of time before word gets out. We can't keep hiding it."

Merlyn crossed the room slowly, the weight of the conversation settling between them. "I know. But it's not just about keeping secrets anymore, is it? It's about keeping them safe. Keeping you safe."

Arthur's gaze darkened at the thought of his father, Uther, and the consequences of their secret being exposed. "If Uther finds out... If anyone finds out... there's no telling what they'd do. Especially to you, and to the children."

Merlyn nodded, her eyes filled with a quiet resolve. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect them. You don't have to worry about me."

Just then, the door opened, and Gwen stepped inside, her face unreadable, yet there was a certain gravity in her steps. She hadn't been told by Arthur or Merlyn yet, but the suspicion had gnawed at her long enough. She had seen Artemis use magic to heal, and she had seen how Arthur and Merlyn's protective instincts toward their children went far beyond what one would expect from a typical father and mother.

"Gwen," Arthur said, his tone serious, his eyes locking with hers. "We need to talk."

Gwen nodded quietly, walking further into the room. She could feel the tension between them, the unease that had been building ever since she realized what she had witnessed. She glanced at Merlyn, then back at Arthur. "I know what I saw."

Merlyn's eyes softened as she stepped forward, her hand resting gently on Arthur's arm. "Gwen, we didn't want you to find out this way. But the truth is... Artemis, Apollo... you know they're Arthur's and my children. And they have magic."

Gwen's gaze flickered between them, her heart racing as the weight of the revelation sank in. "I knew there was something... something different. But I didn't want to believe it."

Arthur stepped closer to her, his voice firm but filled with a quiet sadness. "I know it's a lot to take in. But it's the truth. We've been hiding this, not just from Uther, but from everyone. Artemis and Apollo, they're special, Gwen. And their magic—it's not just a gift. It's a danger."

Merlyn nodded in agreement, her voice soft but resolute. "We've kept them safe as best as we can, but there's a risk every day that someone will find out. Uther... He will never accept magic. He'd destroy them if he knew."

Gwen's eyes softened as she looked at Artemis's sleeping form in the corner, the girl wrapped in blankets, still pale from the poison. "I understand why you had to keep it a secret. I do. But the world isn't ready for that kind of truth. Not yet."

Arthur turned to her, his expression grave. "And I can't risk them being exposed. They're my children, Gwen. I can't let them suffer because of something I chose not to tell my father. I won't let that happen."

Gwen hesitated, her voice quiet but filled with compassion. "But you can't keep it hidden forever. People will start asking questions. Especially now that I know."

Merlyn stepped forward, her hand reaching out to Gwen in understanding. "We know, Gwen. And we trust you. But this is bigger than us. If anyone else finds out—"

Arthur interjected, his voice firm. "Then we deal with it together. I'll protect my family. But I need your help. I need your silence. For their sake. For everyone's sake."

Gwen took a deep breath, her thoughts racing as she looked between them. She had always trusted Arthur, and despite the shock of the truth, she could see the sincerity in his eyes. She could see how much he loved his family, how much he was willing to protect them, no matter the cost.

"I won't say a word," Gwen said finally, her voice steady. "But I can't live in the shadows, Arthur. I can't pretend to be blind to something that big. Just promise me this won't change how you treat me."

Merlyn stepped closer, her eyes warm with gratitude. "You've always been our friend, Gwen. And you'll continue to be."

Arthur nodded, his voice thick with sincerity. "Nothing changes. I promise you."

Gwen gave a small nod, taking in the gravity of the situation. "I'll keep your secret. For now. But know this, Arthur. If Uther ever finds out—"

Arthur's eyes hardened. "Then we deal with it together."

Merlyn gave a small smile, her eyes filled with affection for both of them. "We will."

The silence in the room hung heavy for a moment, each of them feeling the weight of the unspoken words and the promises made. They had crossed a line that could never be undone, but in that moment, they were united—bound together by their shared loyalty, their shared family, and their shared determination to keep each other safe.