~<>~

When they arrived back at the resistance's camp The Mage swung off her horse. Without looking back at the others she marched straight up to Bedivere where he and Bill were waiting at the mouth of the cave.

She followed their gaze, back to where Rubio and Percival were helping the Born King down. Despite still being bound, he stood calmly in the face of so many strangers, his shrewd blue eyes taking in every detail. She turned back and looked up into the old knight's face. "It will not come easily," she warned him. "He has control of his temper, and is...difficult."

"I think we can manage," Goosefat Bill promised her with a sly smile. "You could say it's my specialty, pissing people off."

"See that you do," she pushed. "We need him to use the sword and connect with the magic." She shrugged the strap of the scabbard over her head and held Excalibur out to them. "I doubt he will do it because you ask nicely. He is not what you think he is," she advised them grimly.

"I think he's Uther's son," Bill said flippantly, flashing a confident smile.

Bedivere took Excalibur from her with a certain amount of reverence and though The Mage knew Goosefat Bill liked to pretend otherwise, she watched pain flicker in his eyes at the sight of the sword. Both of them had served in Uther's court and had been his trusted friends and advisors. They had protected his family, likely even Arthur as a boy. If it would pain them to manipulate him now, despite their history, they didn't show it.

"You rest," Bedivere suggested. 'We'll handle this."

The Mage shook her head, "I want to see it, I need to see it," she told them and she moved into the open communal space outside the room where they would bring Arthur to wait.

~<>~

There were no raised voices. Although that didn't surprise her. In all their time on the road the only raised voice had been Rubio. Everything the Born King did had been controlled and measured. After spending two days with him, she was not convinced it would be as easy to push him into doing what they wanted as Bill seemed to think.

Bedivere walked out of the room, looking exhausted by Arthur less than five minutes after going in. It made the Mage feel better about her own patience to know that the accerbic Born King had already shaken the normally unwavering knight.  Bedivere walked out into the main area, leaving the door open behind him. He glanced up towards Percival and nodded once. Percival's hand dropped to his belt and the Mage quickly recognized Excalibur on his hip. Percival shifted, turning his sword hip towards the center of the room.

There was a crack of flesh on flesh, and the Mage jerked towards the noise in surprise.

"Now that would have hurt a lot more if I had left the ring on!" Goosefat Bill called back over his shoulder as he sauntered into the main area, taking up position opposite Percival.

The Mage tipped her head in wonder at the man who decided to slap the Born King. Looking through the door, she could see his profile in shadow. The Born King held himself perfectly still for a moment, as though he were composing himself. She felt a small smirk tug at her lips. She hid the expression deeper within her hood. Perhaps the old friends had managed to shake Arthur up after all. She tried not to show how pleased that made her.

Arthur prowled out of the room. "I see what you're doing," he said, his voice deceptively light despite the danger in his posture.

Maybe she wouldn't have known Goosefat had succeeded if she hadn't seen the look in his eyes on the riverbank. He had shown his true self there for a moment, and now she could see some of it in the way he held his shoulders. She remembered how fast he had been when he escaped her ropes the night before and briefly wondered if Goosefat was prepared for what he had brought down on himself.

"You want me to do something razzle dazzle with that sword. I'm going to tell you right now. I'm not getting drawn into this mess. There's an army of you, there's only one of me. I haven't had a fight for years. You wanna talk?" he asked, feigning a light, hopeful tone, his ice blue eyes wide and guileless. "I'm happy to talk."

The Mage bit my lip as she watched him adjust his stance. He looked over the group of men surrounding him. The only sword within arms reach was Excalibur. She watched his eyes lock onto it for the briefest of moments.

"But there is no way that I am fighting-" and he struck. He punched Goosefat in the throat, whipped around and kicked Bedivere between the legs, and headbutted Percival. Percival recoiled back and Arthur grabbed the sword at his hip, kicking the other man back to clear some space around himself. He was used to brawling on the streets, used to making the fight as fast and devastating as possible. The Mage understood and respected the tactic. Even being a mage she was small, and needed to take her enemies down before they ever saw it coming.

The Born King drew Excalibur from its sheath at Percival's hip, settling back into a confident crouch, holding the sword in one hand. The Mage wasn't sure if he knew it was Excalibur or not. It would be better for them if he didn't. He side stepped expertly, that dark look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine that she didn't quite understand.

Bedivere was still hunched over, breathing through the pain. He gestured to Goosefat to engage. Goosefat grabbed for the sword on Rubio's hip and whipped back around to face off with Arthur. There was power in Arthur's movements but also absolute control. He had been taught well. Goosefat took some experimental swings before engaging him in earnest. Goosefat was used to being one of the most experienced fighters in the group, and Arthur was still just playing with him. He kicked him aside, sending Goosefat sprawling into a pile of grain sacks like a boy just learning to fight.

"Is that it?" Arthur challenged, swinging around the room. He was surrounded by twenty men, but not a single one of them made a move towards the Born King. Bedivere gestured to the men on the right side of the room. Percival drew another sword and five others moved toward him.

A small, confident smile twisted Arthur's lips pleased at the prospect of a challenge. The Mage felt her stomach dip at the sight of it. Here he was. The man who would be king. He raised the sword and she moved to get a better line of sight. He turned to face Pervical and lifted his other hand and closed it around the hilt.

The Mage felt the magic rise around him. As intoxicating as it was wild and uncontrolled. Arthur jerked like he had been struck and grunted. He was fighting it. His eyes glossed over and reflected the light like a cat's but frosty blue, like the magic surging within Excalibur itself. His whole body jerked again and his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped over unconscious.

Everyone in the room froze in shock, but The Mage was already moving to him. She reached down and laid a gentle hand on his chest as it rose and fell. He was breathing steadily as though he were asleep.

She lifted her gaze and met Bedivere's. "He's fine," she told him at the look of concern in the old knight's eyes. "He's just unconscious."

"Well that would be inconvenient," Goosefat snapped impertinently. "Hard to use a magic sword to defeat our enemies if it makes him sleep. Anyone else seeing a problem with this?"

The Mage frowned down at the sword. For all his insolence, Goosefat wasn't wrong. The blade lay innocuously, inches from the Born King's fingers. The magic should have come alive at the touch of Uther's heir. Instead, it had fought him. Something wasn't right about the magic.

She turned to Bedivere. "Bring him," she said and she stepped unceremoniously over the Born Kings body. She stooped and picked up the sword leading the way deeper into the caves.

Rubio and Percival hefted his body between them and deposited him on the cot in the room they had set aside for him. They seemed hesitant to leave him in her care, or perhaps they were just unnerved by her lighting a fire in the brazier in the center of the room with nothing but her magic. Bedivere waved them off when they would have lingered, leaving him standing awkwardly in the doorway as The Mage knelt beside Arthur.

She had already forgotten the others, turning her focus to the Born King. Asleep, all of that charismatic personality was still and quiet. She wouldn't say he looked exactly innocent. He was too restless for that. Every muscle seemed to be drawn and tight even when he was unconscious. His eyelids flickered and she realized he was dreaming.

Curious, she reached for him and pulled a few hairs from his head and moved to the braizure.  In his sleep he was vulnerable. Dreamwalking had always been one of the powers she excelled at, although she didn't use it often. There was rarely a point to it and she wasn't a voyeur who enjoyed entering other's dreams just for the sake of it. Once she learned to control it enough so it didn't happen by accident, she ceased to use the power. Now she thought she might understand why Merlin had been so adamant she mastered the ability.

She slammed Excalibur into the center of the flames. She needed to know what was wrong with the magical connection and she just might be able to reach him through his dreams. There should be no reason for him to not be able to access the sword's magic. There was also no reason for him to be as resistant to his destiny as he had been. She quickly mixed together a group of herbs with his hair and threw it into the flames. They turned blue as the magic flared. She knelt before the sword and clasped it with both her hands. 

She connected to him faster than she ever had anyone in her life. The power of Excalibur provided a shining connection of power bound directly to him the led her straight in. She felt him moving through his dreams. She closed her eyes and saw Arthur as a small boy. Saw him witness the death of his mother as a spear pierced her abdomen and she fell into the river. The Mage turned as he did and she gasped as she saw the specter that had wielded the spear, wreathed in flames as it stalked menacingly towards Uther. The specter raised the ax in it's hand as it closed in on Uther.

"Run son!" Uther shouted and young Arthur looked away in terror.

Arthur jerked, fighting to pull himself from the horror of the dream before it was finished. The Mage huffed impatiently as he woke, expelling her from the dream realm before she learned what had truly happened that night.

Back in her body she heard Arthur gasp awake. He jerked up on the small cot. When he spotted her, he relaxed and leaned forward, scrubbing at his eyes.

"You are resisting the sword. The sword is not resisting you," she told him, her hand still wrapped around the hilt of Excalibur. She could feel the tendrils of power dissipating like a morning fog, rejected by their master.

Arthur made a sound of disbelief in the back of his throat. "It should be clear to you by now that whatever it is you and your friends want from me, I am not it."

The Mage turned to look over her shoulder at him. Her hair swept around her. "Not yet," she said cryptically. 

"Not ever," he growled, his eyes lighting with determination as he held her gaze.

The Mage narrowed her eyes on the Born King. "What do you see when you hold the sword?" she asked. In his dreams Uther told his young son to run, and he had. He had turned away and fled. Arthur was still running. He needed to stop running and accept his destiny. "It is something you have seen before isn't it? Long before you ever touched the sword..."

The pain that clouded Arthur's eyes was answer enough for The Mage. Unfortunately, it also pulled at her in a way it shouldn't. For that brief second the pain he felt called to her and she wanted to help him. She had a task to complete and she couldn't do so until he accepted his destiny and claimed the throne. She was not here to be his friend, she was here to guide him on his quest...and yet...it wasn't in her to ignore another's pain. She pressed her lips together and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You don't sleep well, do you?" she asked, her voice a hint softer than it had been before.

"Do you always speak in riddles?" he challenged.

She had pushed him too far, unnerved him with her insights and her powers. She looked away, it was always the same. Foolish of her to think it might be any different here. She would only ever be a Mage to these people. She looked down at her hands. "What if I could make the dreams go away?" she asked.

The Mage saw a flicker of hope in his eyes and she thought, just maybe he would consider listening to her for even a moment. There would be no forcing or manipulating Arthur into doing anything. She could see that now. He would have to decide on his own that much was clear to her. Having his cooperation to discover the block in the magic would be much easier than having him continue to fight her. Merlin told her Arthur would trust her, she would need to give him a reason to do so.

Arthur stared at The Mage. He could see now she was older than he had first thought, maybe only a few years younger than himself. Her small size made it easy to underestimate her and the power she commanded. He wondered how many fools had made that mistake. With her power upon her it was like there was a light shining out of her eyes. He didn't like her cryptic questions, hinting at things only he knew in the darkest places of his heart, but she just might be able to help him.

"Why are you here?" He asked after a pause. His eyes flickered around the room.  He hadn't missed how the resistance fighters all cut the Mage a wide berth. "You aren't one of them." He said confidently. Arthur was good at reading people and while they respected her, they didn't consider her one of their own. They watched her out of the corners of their eyes, as though they were wary of her and her powers.

The Mage turned and met his gaze unwavering. "I'm here for you," she said and then she turned back to the brazier and jerked Excalibur out of the flames. "And because of this," she said honestly. She slipped it back in its sheath and leaned it against the bed beside him.

Arthur sat back on the cot. He hadn't thought much else could surprise him today. But the little Mage had managed. He didn't much like the idea of the resistance fighters thinking they could manipulate him into helping their cause. But by her own admission and their behavior, she wasn't one of them. She was here for him. The dreams had plagued him his entire life. Every time he closed his eyes it was the same, his mother's death, a ghostly specter. He wanted to be free of it all.

"All right Mage," he conceded after a few long moments of silence. "If you can make the dreams go away, I'll play your little game."

~<>~

I hope you are enjoying the story! Thank you so much for your support!