~<>~

Later that evening the Mage was working over a small pile of herbs when Bedivere approached her. The old knight had waited until the others retired for the night before going to speak with The Mage. There was something about her that unsettled the others. Perhaps it was because they had never spent much time around mages before. Either way, Bedivere felt badly his men seemed to avoid the young woman. She was more intense than Merlin had ever been certainly, but she had come to help them.

"How did you get him to agree?" He asked after a moment. The Mage had displayed nothing to make him think she could be especially persuasive. In fact, in the weeks she had been in the caves she hadn't spoken much at all. And now, somehow, over the course of just a short conversation she had convinced the acerbic future king to not only stay, perhaps not go along with, but at least not actively oppose their plans.

The Mage glanced up from her work to meet Bendivere's gaze. "He is fighting the magic of the sword. It's why he passed out when he connected to it. I dream walked to find out why."

"You dream walked when he was unconscious?" Bedivere asked in shock. "Isn't that incredibly dangerous?" It was phrased like a question but there was accusation in his eyes.

"Are you a mage?" She challenged, not liking him questioning her. She liked even less that he was right. It was outrageously dangerous to dream walk with someone who is unconscious, only when the dreamer woke could they be freed from the connection. With The Born King unconscious the two of them could have become trapped in the dream world and gone mad long before Arthur woke.

When Bedivere didn't respond she continued. "He has nightmares. Had his whole life. It is of his father's death, the moment when he inherited the sword as a boy but did not claim it. The sword calls to him...he fights it."

Bedivere frowned. He blamed himself for not being there for the boy. He felt he had somehow failed his old friend. Uther would have trusted him and Bill to look out for his son and make sure he was well cared for. They had done neither of those things and now the son of their closest friend considered him a foe.

"So how-" Bedivere started to ask.

"I told him I could take away the dreams," she said, wondering if he knew enough about magic to understand the significance of what she was saying.

"But if the dreams are tied into the magic of the sword and him denying it, in order to make them go away won't he have to accept the magic and bring the sword-" he started to say and stopped as though he didn't believe it could be the solution.

"He will have to bring the sword back to the place of its forging," The Mage finished for him impatiently.

"But that's-" Bedivere's face was a mask of shock.

The Mage huffed agitatedly. "In order for him to control Excalibur he needs to go to the Darklands," she stated firmly.

Bedivere shook his head, absolute in his refusal to risk Arthur any more than they had already done so. "That's not happening," Bedivere argued, crossing his arms over his chest. There would be a fight in the future no doubt, Vortigern wouldn't give up his control of the throne easily, but there was no reason to tempt fate and risk Arthur now.

"He needs to take the sword to the tower," the mage said, going back to work on the herbs in front of her. Effectively ending the conversation.

Bedivere didn't take the dismissal. Instead, he stepped forward and crouched down close to the Mage. "Give me another way," he demanded. He couldn't send Arthur to that godforsaken place that all but guaranteed his death.

The Mage looked down into the fire. They would need to forge the king out fire like the finely crafted blade he would one day wield. He had already been hammered into shape, but he had no purpose. He needed to be finished. "We don't have time. He is not receptive to the magic, the sword, his heritage or you."

Bedivere flinched but she ignored it and pushed on relentlessly. "There is no other way, and he has to go alone."

"He can't survive the darklands alone!" Bedivere said, raising his voice. He couldn't believe the Mage would suggest sending him to such a dangerous place alone.

"We don't want all of him to survive, that's the point. You have to break his old self completely, wear him down. You want him to want the crown. To desire to control the magic, but you haven't given him a reason. You want him to think big?" She challenged. "Give him something big to think about."

"You are mad," Bedivere said. "Merlin would never do this," he hissed in disgust.

The Mage pushed down the self doubt that curled in her stomach as Bedivere spoke the words she had always feared. Instead of allowing him to see how much they effected her she lifted her chin and met his gaze. "Merlin is not here, he sent me. He trusts my decisions. You should too."

"You are playing with fire mage, and I'm not killing the king before he even becomes one."

"You care for him. It is clouding your ability to see. He will never be a king if he doesn't accept who he is. He cannot embrace his birthright if he is busy fighting us. The Darklands will give him something to fight, a reason to use the sword. Then he will see."

~<>~

Arthur, Bedivere and the Mage set off the next morning. The entrance to the DarkLands was a days boat ride up the coast. Arthur was surprisingly agreeable when Bedivere told him they would be leaving. The Mage was almost surprised he hadn't tried to escape in the middle of the night. Of course Bedivere had sentries everywhere. Now that the rebels had found him, Bedivere wasn't likely to let Uther's son out of his sight, King or not.

Bedivere was adept at sailing and took charge of the small vessel they would use to navigate the small islands that flanked the eastern coast. 

"Will Saxons be a problem?" She asked shielding her eyes from the sun.

"Let's hope not," Bedivere said grimly.

The Saxon's had been a problem since the Romans left almost a hundred years previously. They had respected Uther and his father before him however, after Uther's death they had taken control of the seas surrounding the island. Vortigern had made deals and signed treaties with them, but they didn't seem to fear or respect him.

"We will stay close to land," he said. "It will take longer to go around all the other islands and avoid the rocks, but it will be safer."

Arthur frowned as he stood along the rail, looking out at the open water. "How do you spot the rocks?" He asked. He didn't like not knowing.

"There are charts, but also the way the water moves. Have you ever sailed before?" Bedivere asked him. It felt foolish for him to want to get to know the boy who was now a man and would soon be king. But he felt almost desperate to learn something about him, to be involved in his life as he felt he always should have been.

Arthur turned back to him. "Never left Londinium," he said. "Far as I can remember," he added ruefully. "You probably know more about my life before that than I do."

Bedivere nodded. "I am happy to answer any questions you have about it," he said gently, fighting to keep his enthusiasm in check. "Or about your father or your mother..."

"Best to let the past lie," Arthur said and he turned and moved to the other side of the boat. "Got other things to focus on now."

The Mage watched as Bedivere seemed to deflate. She felt badly for both men. Arthur for being blindsided with a birthright he could never have imagined. Being told his whole life was a lie. And Bedivere, who was honor bound to defend Camelot and restore it to its former glory, but also wanting to do what was right for his best friend's son. Had things been different, Bedivere would likely have raised Arthur in Uther's absence.

The three of them ate a small meal of dried meat and cheese on the deck as the sun set. The Mage hadn't spent much time on the water herself. Only the crossings she and Merlin had done from England and back. All Mages had a connection to the elements but usually one had an affinity for one over another. She had never been particularly drawn to water or fire as Merlin had been. Instead, she had found her strength in the earth and on the wind. Out here, she could feel the wind in a way she hadn't experienced before. It made her fingers tingle with the desire to reach for it. She balled up her fist in an effort to resist its call. When she looked up, Arthur was watching her intently. She dropped her eyes self consciously to her meal once more, wondering if he knew somehow.

"Well, we should get some sleep. It looks like the wind will hold. We should be there in the morning," Bedivere said oblivious. "There are bedrolls below deck," he added and he turned to head below.

The Mage tried to sleep, but after several hours of tossing and turning she couldn't sleep trapped in the belly of the boat surrounded by water. She climbed to her feet and climbed the ladder. On deck the cool wind blew her hair around her and filled her lungs. It reminded her of when she connected with her eagle. She had never felt so free in her own body before.

She wasn't alone long. A few moments later there was a whisper of movement behind her and Arthur stepped up beside her at the rail. He leaned his forearms against it and looked out over the dark water.

"It's a little unnerving being out here like this," he said after a minute. "Can't see land anywhere. Can't see anything really," he said casting a glance up at the moon, which was their only source of light.

The Mage glanced over her shoulder at him. Part of her begrudged him for interrupting her peace, but she was also a little curious about what would have the Future King up in the middle of the night.

"Can't sleep?" she asked him, her exhaustion making her accent thicker.

Arthur made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

"Did the dreams come back?" she asked.

"You know," Arthur said after a moment. "It's a little unnerving this whole you knowing everything about me and me knowing nothing about you. It just occurred to me I don't even know your name."

The Mage glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but still didn't comment.

"Do you have a name? Or shall I make one up for you?" he teased.

The Mage turned to face him, tipping her head to the side as she tried to decide how to respond to his flirty tone. She was here to be taken seriously, she would not have Arthur treat her like a silly girl. "Names have power. That is why Mages do not give them lightly," she explained stoically, deciding that ignoring his teasing was the best course of action.

"So why did we know Merlin and Mordred then?" he challenged, his lips twisting as he crossed his arms over his chest. He had seen the twinkle of aggravation in her eye and like a hound on a scent wasn't about to back down.

"Those are not their true names, they are names they took to make it so no one could curse or bind them on their names alone. They were powers in their own right they would never had risked someone having such power over them."

Arthur frowned as he considered her words, all thoughts of flirting forgotten under the weight of this new knowledge. "Are you a power in your own right, like them?" he asked.

She didn't get the impression he was challenging her, although it felt that way. Instead it felt as though he were genuinely curious.

"Like Mordred or Merlin?" She asked incredulously. It seemed she had done a better job than she anticipated of appearing powerful and mysterious. "Not even close."

"So why did they send you then?" he asked, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

The Mage turned to face Arthur, leaning a hip on the railing of the boat and crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't like that he didn't take her seriously, all the others seemed to. "Do you think me incapable because I'm a woman?" she challenged.

The teasing light lit his eyes once more and she realized she had risen to his bait. She tightened her jaw and looked away in frustration. Never in all her life had she wanted to shove a man over board so badly.

Arthur chuckled. "I was raised by women in a brothel, I know better than to doubt a woman's strength or her mind," he mollified. "So why did they send you?" he pushed. Now he was genuinely curious.

She nodded vaguely. She had heard of his past. He had been raised in a brothel, and then spent every day protecting the women who lived there from the time he was strong enough. The Future King liked to paint himself the rogue, but he protected as much as he hustled. He liked to hide himself behind quips and fast talking and flirting, but it was clear there was much more to him than that.

"Ask me again sometime," She told him.

He nodded knowing when it was time to push and when it was time to back off. He had already pushed her out of her comfort zone once, he didn't need to do it again. He looked out over the dark water. "So why couldn't you sleep?" He asked.

She swallowed and gazed into the water's depths. "The closer we get to the island..." she began. "I feel it's pull. I don't want to be vulnerable to it's Magic's."

Arthur frowned as he turned to look down at her. "Is there something I can do?" He asked. "I know what it's like to not be able to sleep," he added a little wryly as though it cover up his sweet offer.

The Mage swallowed. There were things, wards that could be done, but they all involved a magical link and the use of her true name. "The magic of Excalibur is unbound, it draws all other wild magic to it. I will stay awake to keep wards up so we don't draw anything to us."

"So you're out here in the middle of the night to protect me."

"Why else do you think I am here?" She challenged him.

A smirk twisted his lips and he leaned against the railing, facing her. "My staunch protector," he teased gently.

She made an impatient noise in the back of her throat, but didn't correct him this time. He seemed to take that as encouragement and slid a little closer to her.

"So do I get to know where we are going?" He asked.

The Mage glanced at him. There really wasn't any point in keeping it from him. Unless he was going to swim back to the mainland there wasn't much he could do to avoid her plan.

"You are going to the Dark Lands," she said.

Arthur frowned. "What are the dark lands?"

"They are a magical realm. Once it was called Avalon, but Mordred poisoned the land there to gain power and turned it's wild magic dark."

"Have you ever been there?" Arthur asked curiously.

The Mage dipped her chin. "It has been years. But I went there for my first trial."

"First trial?"

She turned to him, ready to berate him for being nosey. But when she turned to face him it surprised her to see that he was in fact just interested. His arctic blue eyes were filled with curiosity.

"All young Mages endure the passing into that world as one of their steps to become a sorcerer."

"And you endured it?" He asked

She nodded.

"What was it like?" He asked.

"It is very wild. Once it was beautiful in its wildness, but when Mordred combined the magics into one, that beautiful wilderness lost control and grew into something more. Something dark."

"Beautiful wildness," Arthur repeated thoughtfully and his eyes traveled to The Mage. Yes, that would be an apt description of the fierce little mage. She had a beautiful wildness about her.

"What it grew into was a dark and terrible thing. There are creatures there, touched by this magic."

"So it's dangerous?" Arthur asked.

"Very," the mage responded.

"And you didn't think it would be better to send me with a weapon that won't knock me unconscious any time I try to use it?" He challenged wryly.

"You will learn to wield the sword, as your father did."

Arthur stiffened at the mention of his father. She remembered Merlin's words that after all he had been through Arthur would be resistant to a father figure. She assumed it was part of the reason he had been so antagonistic to Bedivere.

"I doubt my father got knocked on his ass by that," his tone had turned brittle.

The Mage turned her head and met his gaze. "He did," she told him.

Arthur snorted. "And how would you know?" He challenged.

The Mage blinked at him and it reminded him of an owl. Her large dark eyes regarded him with the same beautiful wildness that reminded him of a bird regarding prey. It was something dark and a little dangerous. He liked it.

"Merlin told me," she said simply.

"You know Merlin?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"He raised me."

Arthur just blinked at her in disbelief.

"You have heard of Merlin, yes?" She prompted.

Arthur made a noise in the back of his throat. "Everyone's heard of Merlin," he said. "He's a legend."

"He sent me," The Mage said a little stiffly. She was braced against his reaction.

Arthur glanced at The Mage out of the corner of his eye. He could see how uncomfortable his words made her. He wondered what would happen if he pushed just a little more. "This being so important and all, I'm surprised he didn't come himself..." He dragged off glancing once more at her.

The Mage's eyes flashed with temper a second before she managed to school her expression. Arthur grinned at her.

Deciding to not completely annoy her just for the fun of it he continued. "You must be quite the power yourself Merlin sending you here and all..."

The Mage sniffed. She felt like she and Arthur had been connecting. If she could get him to confide in her and trust her it would make this whole process that much easier. She chewed on her lip. She was a private person by nature and due to the constant traveling she hadn't really learned how to relate to others very well. But she did know shared experiences often brought people together.

"I'm not," she finally settled on telling him. She hated that it sounded like weakness coming out of her mouth. "I don't know why."

Instead of seeming horrified the Future King nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I expect you'll figure it out soon enough," he said and he turned to leave the mage in peace. "Good night Mage," he called over his shoulder before disappearing below decks and leaving the Mage alone.

~<>~