A/N: Just a friendly reminder, this is an AU where Lancelot never returned. That part of Le Morte was not done justice.

"Now I have warned thee [Lancelot] of thy vain glory and of thy pride."

- Le Morte D'Arthur

A red dawn greeted the citizens of Camelot the morning after Kara's execution. For the superstitious, this boded ill for days to come. But Gwaine never put much stock in superstition.

"Merlin!" Gwaine called out to his friend as he caught the servant delivering Arthur's breakfast.

Merlin glanced back but kept walking. "I have to get this to the king!"

Gwaine rolled his eyes but nodded. He jogged to catch up with him. A few moments later, as they walked quickly to the King's chambers, Galahad and Leon joined them.

"Are we all going to see the king?" Gwaine laughed. "He won't know what hit him."

Leon gave a short laugh. "Elyan and Percival would be here but they're at training. Which is where you should be, Gwaine."

"What about Galahad?!" Gwaine slapped the young man on the back.

Leon rolled his eyes. "I already told him the same thing."

Galahad merely smirked. The four men finally reached the royal quarters and Merlin opened the door.

"Good morning!" He marched inside and placed the food trays on the table with a clang. But to his surprise, both monarchs were up and dressed. "You're dressed?"

"I can help with some things, Merlin," Gwen laughed lightly.

Arthur went to object from where he sat at his desk before noticing the knights. He sighed."Shouldn't you be training?"

"We had other matters to bring up," Leon said, hesitating. "What are we going to do about Fira, sire?"

Arthur beckoned for everyone to come to his desk. "I've been giving that a lot of thought. And I'm not sure how much we can do." He gestured to a point on the map. "This is where you were ambushed. We don't know anything about where in the Perilous Lands Morgana has a base. The tracks would be nearly a week old by now, and probably gone."

"We can't just give up," Galahad objected quietly. "She wouldn't give up on us."

"She wouldn't want you risking your lives for her, either." Merlin frowned. "If anyone goes after them, it needs to be me."

They all looked at Merlin in surprise. Gwaine shook his head and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

He spoke quickly. "She wouldn't want you to leave Camelot unprotected either, mate. We're expendable, you're not."

Guinevere shook her head, hands on her hips. "You are not expendable, Sir Gwaine. None of you are."

"Thanks," he winked. Then he grew somber again. "So who's going after her?"

Merlin frowned. "Gwaine. She's probably dead already."

"Morgana would kill her if she couldn't sway her," Arthur agreed. "Morgana might even kill her without trying to get her to switch sides at all."

"Isn't there some kind of magic to see where she is?" Leon looked at Merlin.

The warlock sighed. "Perhaps? But not without letting everyone in Camelot know I have magic. Those spells tend to take a lot of power and time. I'd be caught before the end."

"So we're saying there's nothing to be done?" Gwaine looked around at the others gathered there. "We're just going to lay down, tails between our legs, while Morgana kills Fira?"

Shaking his head, Arthur finally replied after several moments of silence. "It's the best for Camelot. And that is what Fira would have us do."

Gwaine's face contorted, rage in his eyes. But he knew Arthur was right. Fira wouldn't want them to put the future of Camelot at risk. Then again, he knew Fira definitely did not want to die. She'd said it multiple times before battle. And who did?

"Whatever you say," Gwaine nodded, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I suppose we have training to get to."

The others nodded and all three knights left the room. Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen stood quietly, each lost in thought.

"Are we doing the right thing?" Gwen finally asked, voice hushed.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances. The warlock shrugged sadly. He didn't know at this point. At the same time, Arthur tried to put on a brave, sure face for his wife.

"Yes." He nodded firmly. "This is war."

-*-

Morgana stood in her chambers at the top of a tall tower in her castle at the Perilous Lands. She preferred the view from Dunnottar in the North, but this one satisfied her needs well enough. She looked out the window down at her army. Saxons swarmed all over the ground below, and sorcerers trained apprentices in and around them.

Suddenly a crow, large and black as night, landed in front of her. Morgana cocked her head in confusion before noticing the note tied to its leg.

"Took you long enough, Kara." She undid the note.

Her mouth formed a smile as she reached the end of the letter. Kara was gone, but she had Mordred back. That was worth losing a serving girl. Mordred's magic would aid her in her quest to rid the world of the Pendragon king.

She turned to her books again, at a table nearby. Her preparations for the necromantic ritual were almost complete. She poured over the spell tome. Ancient symbols and texts decorated the pages in intricate designs. Tonight she would perform the spell. Tonight stage two of her plan would begin.

And indeed, as the moon rose in the sky and night fell, Morgana silently walked to the basement of the castle. Five priests came with her, the other thirteen busy with Fira. But she only needed five for this spell.

When she reached the circular room, a man tied to a post in the center struggled against his bonds. Morgana flashed him a mock frown. To the side lay a red cloak of the knights of Camelot. The high priestess walked up to him.

"Take heart, knight of Camelot." She bent to his level. "Your death will bring back one of your own."

The knight spat in her face. The priest who stood beside her slapped him viciously, sending the knight wincing to the side. But Morgana merely smiled.

"Prepare the ritual."

The five priests joined hands and surrounded the man. Morgana stood inside them also, watching the knight, eyes gleaming with intense interest. In her hand was the trust dagger she always carried. As they chanted, she began incanting her part of the ritual. The words of the Old Religion spilled off her tongue effortlessly.

The room began to shake. The knight in the center blanched in terror as Morgana raised her dagger and, while her eyes gleamed gold, sliced the Knight's throat. She held his head so the blood sprayed onto the cold stone floor. In the floor were ruts to collect blood.

"Árísan Lancelot! Árísan!"

She spoke the final spell. Out of the pool of blood formed a body. It dripped blood, but soon it clearly became the body of the fallen Knight of the Round Table. He opened his eyes and turned to face the witch.

Lancelot looked at her closely. "What is your bidding?"

Morgana gave a sickly smile. "Bring about the death of Guinevere Pendragon."

"It will be done."