This is a Harry Potter, BBC's Merlin crossover.

Arthur: Frida a.k.a Kefalion

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or Harry Potter that would be BBC and J.K. Rowling respectively. I'm just using their stories, mashing them together to create something new. I'm doing this for my own entertainment and hopefully the entertainment of you guys.

Summary: There are ordinary people, people with great destinies and then there is Harry who has two destinies. He is Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived. He is also Prince Harry Pendragon of Camelot, younger brother of the future King Arthur. He grows up in Camelot and he has to conceal his strange powers from everyone until a young man with a destiny of his own arrives. Harry/Merlin

Warnings: Eh, I never know what I should warn you about… Gore, violence, deaths, swears, sexual situations (het and slash), AU, OOCness and OCs, dragged out plot, a story that will be longer than any story should ever be allowed to be, angst and attempts at humour.

My intent is to mash together Harry Potter and BBC's Merlin, and write in a style that inspired by Game of Thrones. The scope will be bigger, the intrigues deadlier. The bar has been raised.

The story is currently being edited. If the chapter has a title, it's been edited in 2016

Two Destinies

Chapter 1 – Dawn of Destiny
Words: 6 550

Albus Dumbledore was just about to turn down Sybill Trelawney. He had been forced to conclude that the gift of Cassandra had not been passed onto Miss Trelawney. It was a shame, for he was in dire need of a replacement professor in Divination. The last one had vanished into the mid-term.

Albus sighed, feeling old, all of his ninety-eight years weighing heavy on him. He and Miss Trelawney, the only interviewee who had applied for the post, were at the Hogshead in Hogsmeade instead of up at the school. This was not normal protocol. Albus was not in the habit of conducting staff interviews in his brother's run down pub. However, in these dangerous times he preferred to not let anyone passed the school wards if he did not have to.

In all honesty he'd not had much hope for this interview. Sybill had never been one of the brightest kneezles in the litter, he remembered as much from the woman's time at Hogwarts and the years had not changed anything in that regard.

He opened his mouth to thank her for her time when her eyes glazed over behind her thick glasses and she began to speak in a low, rough voice:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and…"

Here there was a disturbance. Noise reached their private room from a commotion outside the door. Albus looked there quickly, but as nothing more could be heard he turned his focus back on the woman, knowing that it was important for him to hear all her words.

"…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the power the Dark Lord knows not will be gained as he fulfils his first destiny at the side of Emerys… if the Vanquisher prevails we will see a renaissance of magic…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Albus drew in a deep breath as the echo of the last words died. He could only begin to imagine the significance of the prophecy that had been delivered from a source he had believed empty. His plans were changing rapidly.

As Miss Trelawney woke from her trance he smiled. "Hogwarts would be happy to have you, my dear Sybill. I would like for you to start as soon as possible. The students shouldn't have to go without classes for too long, don't you agree? Will you be prepared to begin classes on Monday?"


"Lily, he's here! Take Harry and go!"

Lily Potter hurried upstairs to the nursery. She put her son in the crib and Harry remained standing, gazing at her with large green eyes; their shade mirrored hers exactly.

"I'm so sorry Harry," she babbled in a tone that she kept happy as to not scare the boy. "We should have done more to protect you."

She could hear Voldemort cast the Killing Curse and she knew that James was dead. Lily bit back a sob and picked Harry back up, holding him tightly in her arms, needing to feel him for as long as she could. She knew that it was too late. There was nowhere for them to run. She couldn't apparate without risking harm coming to Harry, you should never apparate with a child younger than three years, and she would never leave him behind to save herself.

"May god and magic protect you," she whispered and pressed a kiss to her son's smooth brow, smelling his baby scent. She then placed him back in the crib once more and turned to face the monster who she knew would kill her, but she might still be able to save her son.

"Please, not Harry," she begged as Voldemort appeared in the nursery, not truly believing that the Dark Lord would grant them mercy, but having to try no matter what.

"Step aside, you silly girl," he commanded, voice cold and cruel.

"No! Not Harry! Please, not Harry!"


"No, not Harry. Please, not my son! Please spare him! K-kill me instead."

"Very well. Avada Kedavra."

Lily Potter died in a flash of green light. Her face grew slack and her eyes dulled as her body crumbled to the floor.

The Dark Lord Voldemort walked passed her lifeless body without sparing her another glance, approaching the crib with child who was prophesied to vanquish him. He sneered at the boy, his face twisting from something ugly to something terrible. He would make certain that this child would never get a chance to hurt him. Harry Potter would end his life as toddler. Voldemort looked into innocent, green eyes that appeared older than they should. Somehow the gaze made the Dark wizard remember another boy: a strange child who never cried; an orphan who nobody liked, but who possessed power beyond the comprehension of ordinary people; a boy who had grasped the power given to him and made it grow beyond compare. He recognized himself in young Harry Potter and knew with certainty that the child had to die. He then raised his wand without hesitating any longer. He uttered the words of the Killing Curse for the third time that night.

The green light hurtled towards the child. It touched him and the light in his eyes went out, his small body becoming limp and lifeless. The Dark Lord Voldemort felt grim satisfaction and dark triumph as he regarded his fallen enemy, an enemy who had never been allowed to become a threat. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. The power was broken. The light would fall. The wizard world was his for the taking, his to reshape and control.

Then to Voldemort's surprise the curse was reflected back on its caster, appearing again minutes after the casting. It shot from Harry and in its wake it left a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Voldemort's body was destroyed by the unexplainable curse and the shade which was all that remained of the Dark Lord fled the scene, too weak to do anything other than cling on to the plane of the living. He fled driven by desperation and the fear of dying along with his body.

The town house in Godric's Hollow belonging to the Potters was in ruins. James' dead body had been left in the hallway where he fell. His arms and legs were in unnatural positions. There was nothing restful about his last slumber. On Lily's body bruises were blossoming even in death. She lay under a pile of debris in the nursery, her skin and hair grey with dust. In the crib was the body of the last inhabitant of the house. Little Harry had been murdered too. The family of three were all dead and their unwelcome guest, and slayer, was long gone.

The house, however, was not empty of intelligent life. A brightly shining spirit lingered. A soul lost between one plane and the next. This soul belonged to Harry.

Harry didn't understand what had happened. Things were strange. He didn't feel normal. He'd moved through the bars of his bed. He'd never been able to do that before. For a little while it had amused him. He'd sat on the floor, moving his hand through the wood. Then he tried to grab his teddy and he couldn't and it wasn't fun anymore. He tried to call out to his mama for help. She didn't answer. He couldn't wake her. He cried and he screamed and she did nothing. When he ambled over and tried to touch her, his hands went through. Things were strange and he didn't like it.

Everything felt wrong. The longer he cried the worse it got. He couldn't wake his mama and He felt like he shouldn't be there. It felt wrong. Things were disconnected. But that was silly. Of course he should be here; this was home! This was where mama and papa were. It should feel right. What he knew and what he felt were in opposition, making him conflicted. It made him cry more.

He rubbed at his eyes, sniffling. When he blinked away his tears he saw a bright light. His mood changed quickly. The light was nice and he longed to go there. At the same time he was scared. He wanted his mummy. He wanted his daddy. Fear won out over curiosity. Indecisive he lingered, waiting for something to happen.

Paddy was distressed and Harry wanted to know why his uncle was sad. He tried to ask, but he couldn't. He cried for Padfoot, but it didn't work any better than when he'd tried to cry for his mamma. Harry began to sob again, rocking back and forth, wishing that things would go back to normal, that his uncle would pick him up and make everything okay.

The light shone brighter, telling him to come. He couldn't. He had to wait for someone to see him. Mama, Papa, Paddy or Moony. One of them would see him if he just waited. They would make the bad go away. They always made him feel better. They had to.


Nimueh looked into her Water-Mirror. She was worried. For days she had been searching for answers. Magic was trying to give her a message, but it was already weakened by people turning away from the true faith of the Old Religion, seeking solace in a new god. The weakening of the powers in which she believed only meant that she had to work harder, have stronger resolve.

For years all that she stood for had been in a silent battle, and they were losing. The Old Ways were in danger. Life as they knew it was coming to an end. She could not accept that. She had to preserve their ancient traditions and their culture if at all possible. No price would be too high to pay.

Recently she had been plagued by a vague feeling. All she could tell was that they were quickly approaching a fork in the road of life. Something would happen that could steer the world's path on a crooked road that could lead back to the Old, or down a slope that would see the Old forgotten forever.

Despite her diligence and sleepless effort she had not found anything. Still, she, of course, returned to her mirror. Often she had seen the City of Camelot in the Mirror's still waters. The King and Queen of Camelot were the faces that had been the clearest and most lingering.

As Nimueh once more caught a glimpse of the regents, she concluded that the approaching crossroads had something to do with the heir she had promised Uther Pendragon.

She hadn't spoken to Gaius about the coming event that would decide everything. She had not spoken to him about it because she was certain that no words were needed. Gaius was a man she would gladly call friend. He understood the old Religion better than any other man she knew and they shared a high standing in Camelot. He would know the same as she did. He had eyes to see with and while her feeling was vague, you'd have to be wilfully blind to not notice that something was amiss, that a storm was brewing.

What was surprising was that there was nothing indicating that Gaius had told the King of the approaching change. Gaius counselled Uther Pendragon and would thus be sworn to inform the King of all important matters that came to his attention. Perhaps the uncertainty of the situation was holding him back. Better to give no council than to give bad counsel. Nimueh did not blame him. She would not want to be on the King's bad side either.

Nimueh wasn't planning on remedying Uther's ignorance if her friend would not. Perhaps Gaius had remained silent because he believed that Uther was better left ignorant. The King might work in favour of the path leading away from the Old. If he did not know, he could not do them any harm. Nimueh feared that the King might very well pose a problem. While he did accept the practices of the old Religion and had accepted her help conceiving an heir, he had also allowed the practisers of the new religion to build a church in Camelot. The King did not honour the Old Ways; he only cared for what might serve him.

The event that would shape the future was coming and had to be allowed to come, but she might be able to steer it. That was why she had been searching for many days and nights. There was something she was missing, a piece of the puzzle to complete the image.

She looked deeper into the water, searching for what Magic wished to show her. Nimueh tried to lend of her own strength. Ever last drop of energy could make a difference. She reached out.




At long last her patience came to fruition. The Priestess could see a bright light at the depth of the pool. It shone as brightly as the sun, a light of innocence and potential. It only took one look for Nimueh to see that his was what she had been searching for.

The spirit was as young as it was stubborn. It clung to what was familiar. Yet it noticed her from across veils and over distances and even through time. It reached out tentatively, bouncing back and forth. Perhaps it could sense that she wanted its help. That she has searched for it tirelessly. Nimueh peered at the spirit and saw that it was a human soul.

"A dead child," she murmured softly. Nimueh was intrigued as to why this boy hadn't passed over. It had to be what set it apart, what made it able to impact destiny where most people could not. It should not be able to linger among the living once separated from its body. The natural order of things would not allow him to linger as pure essence.

She focused her own powers, drawing on her last reserves and reached into the water, into a place beyond time and space. As Nimueh got though she let out a gasp. She was dealing with powerful magic, magic that would normally require preparations, rituals, many participants, but something beyond even her comprehension was at work this night. Her Gods were guiding her.

She could see that the child was bound to life by a tether of strong magic. The magic was of the Old kind. A blood sacrifice coloured by love was responsible for keeping the young soul bound to the living world. Yet there was nothing powerful enough to stop death; the child had ended up trapped in the realm between living and dead. As Nimueh continued to observe she found that the soul was sauntered with magic of its own. This child was magical, one of the blessed, and he had magic stronger than she'd ever seen in one so young.

"So much potential," she whispered in awe, beginning to understand what she was meant to do, understanding why she had been led to this spirit and why the mirror had shown her Camelot. "Such strong magic and such a pure soul... It is a powerful combination indeed. With one of magic's own upon the throne our future would be secured. It would mean a future in which the old can prevail. This is how I can steer us onto the right path."


Sirius held the limp body of his godson in his arms, sitting on the floor in the wrecked room that used to be a nursery with mint green walls, yellow carpet and a ceiling that was charmed to show the sky at night. Now it was destroyed. The real night sky was above his head and the sanctuary had been breached.

The toddler he held against his chest wasn't breathing. Sirius was devastated by the death of his best friend and his best friend's wife. James. The man he had been closer to than his own blood brother, having shared everything with him. Lily. The wonderful, intelligent woman he had come to cherish as a dear friend. Still it was Harry's death that hit Sirius the hardest. Harry had just an innocent child. Fifteen months old to the day. He'd been a happy little boy who liked to fly on his toy broom and who called Sirius 'Paddy'. How evil did Voldemort have to be to kill a baby boy? Of course he was a dark lord and cruelty and ruthlessness and disregard of everything good was what it meant to be a dark lord. But even dark Lords should have limits, shouldn't they? Life couldn't be allowed to be so cruel.

Sirius was shaking with sobs, not carrying about holding them back. There was nobody around to stay strong for. He'd lost his family. They were gone. He was going to murder Peter, that fucking, snivelling, cowardly rat. But, no, Sirius wasn't going to deal out the killing blow until he'd made the scum suffer for what he'd done. Peter had been their friend. How could he have done this? Ten years of friendship apparently didn't mean anything to him. Sirius could see it now as he thought back, noticing things that he'd overlooked before; Peter had always been a coward. It was a mystery how that pathetic excuse of a man had been sorted into Gryffindor.

"Fucking traitor," Sirius wailed out, snivelling ungracefully. He should never have insisted that they use Peter as a decoy. He should have taken the duty upon himself as they'd initially planned; that way James, Lily and Harry would have been safe. Sirius would have stayed in hiding forever if that was what it took, and if it came down to it he would have taken the secret to his grave, buying them more time.

It was his fault, all of it. Why had he made them switch at the last moment? His sobbing increased as the guilt tore at his insides. Tears dripped down on Harry's pale cheek. Sirius forced himself to calm down and brushed away soft, black hair from Harry's forehead. There he saw something strange. Slightly off centre, over Harry's left eyebrow was an angry, red scar the shape of a stylized lightning bolt.

"What's this?" Sirius' voice was choked as he uttered the question to the empty room. He traced the scar lightly with the tip of his fingers.

"That is a curse scar," a calm voice said from behind.

Sirius jumped up, Harry still safely pressed against his chest and wand pointing at the intruder. He took in the shape of the man and relaxed when he recognized the long, silver-gray beard, the half-moon shaped glances upon the crooked nose and the inappropriately brightly coloured robes. Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor? Professor, I didn't do it! I didn't betray James and Lily! It was Pettigrew! I suggested that he should be a decoy!"

"Calm," Dumbledore said, raising both hands in a placating gesture. "I know, Sirius. Don't worry. Peter won't get away with this."

"Alright," Sirius said weakly, visibly deflating with relief, as he was reassured that the man knew of his innocence. He tried to wipe away the tears and the snot from his face without his old Headmaster noticing. Dumbledore probably saw, but was kind enough to pretend like nothing, taking a moment to look around while Sirius pulled himself together. The old wizard saw to Lily's body. He removed the plaster dust and debris covering her and used a few spells to make her rest on her back, hands resting on her stomach. She looked much more peaceful now, the way she deserved.

"That scar is saturated with dark magic," said Dumbledore eventually as his attention turned back to Harry and Sirius. "Can I look closer at the boy?"

Sirius reluctantly held Harry in a different position which made it possible for the Headmaster to see his face.

"Now I understand what happened to Voldemort," Dumbledore murmured after touching Harry's brow and casting a few nonverbal spells.

Sirius didn't flinch hearing the name of the Dark Lord and that more than anything was a testimony to how distraught he was. Though perhaps it was anger against the dark wizard that what allowed Sirius to keep his composure as Dumbledore said Voldemort. "

What do you mean, sir?" Sirius asked. The use of the honorific was another sign to the emotional upheaval Sirius had experienced over the last hours. He wasn't usually one to put any emphasis on correct behaviour, but when stressed he would fall back into the patterns his mother had drilled into him from a young age.

"Harry has been hit by the killing curse, same as James and Lily I fear, but something other than his death occurred."

"What? He is dead."

"So it would seem, yes. But I wouldn't be so sure. I suspect that his spirit is still here."


The Queen of Camelot was a beautiful woman; anyone would attest to it. She had a soft face, but it still had character with arched eyebrows and a straight nose. Her hair shone like gold in the light of a low fire that warded her chamber from the autumn chill. There was strength in her clear, blue eyes, eyes that held wisdom and kindness. Since she'd gotten pregnant she had only grown more beautiful. She was radiant with joy and her constant smiles were contagious.

When Nimueh came to see Ygraine, the Queen was seated by the window in the royal chambers, gazing out at the falling rain which obscured the view of the city down below. Her hand was held protectively over her swollen belly. She could feel a kick and she smiled, content in knowing that she would give her beloved husband the heir he craved, and that they would soon have a son to love and cherish.


The Queen of Camelot looked away from the window and smiled at her friend, rising to greet her. "Nimueh! I'm glad to see you. What brings you here?"

Nimueh was a beautiful woman in her own right. The Priestess of the Old Religion had electric, blue eyes and deep brown hair that contrasted to the Queen's golden locks.

"I have a proposal for you," Nimueh said as their embrace was ended. "I've seen a way to give you your child without payment."

Ygraine's eyes widened before they became slits, she knew well enough that nothing was ever given for free; even between friends you couldn't be certain. It was the way of the Old Religion. Balance. One act resulting in a counter action. There was something suspicious about this offer. Nimueh had already graced her with a child. It wasn't an issue any more. The deal had been made.

"Why would you do this? What's in it for you?"

Nimueh decided to be frank. Ygraine had always looked kindly on the Old Religion and its practitioners. There was nothing to fear. Her friend would listen. "I want this because this child that I can give you, where you will have to pay nothing, will have magic. I believe that with a child of magic on the throne, we may be allowed to know true and long-lasting peace."

Ygraine had to smile again. Nimueh's enthusiasm was endearing. Long-lasting peace with someone of magic as Uther's friend sounded well enough. Ygraine could understand what Nimueh would gain. She could, however, not accept the offer without knowing more.

"And what would happen with the child in my womb?" she asked.

"He will die. Cease to exist."

Ygraine gasped. "I can't do it! He is alive and he is mine!" She shook her head vehemently. "I will pay for him when the time comes, but I will do nothing to harm him. Never."

"I beg you to reconsider, Ygraine." Nimueh got down on her knees before the Queen, gripping her hands. "There are more at stake than yours or mine or even that of your child."

"No," Ygraine persisted. "I will not kill this child for another! I'd rather lose my own life."

"I see." Nimueh sighed softly, allowing her hands to slide from the Queen's, to her belly. She sensed the life held inside, the young heart beating strongly. While she did not agree with the decision to keep this child when another could save them so much grief, she could understand. "Your mind is set?"

"It is."

Nimueh's mind was set too. She did not give up. She thought for a moment, and found an answer. "Would you still accept the child I offer? If you could have both?"

"I'd get another child?" Ygraine could hardly believe it. She had been told that she and Uther would never have any child to call their own. Then by some miracle their friend had presented them with a way, and now she was told that she could have another child. She could have two.

"Yes, you can have both, with no harm done to your first son. Everything will be as it was, with the addition of a second child."

Ygraine smiled brightly enough to put the sun to shame. "I accept."


Harry watched sadly as his Paddy cried over his body, and he watched in stillness as a man he'd never seen before arrived. He couldn't understand what they were going on about and soon he could feel his concentration slipping. There was a new light which drew his attention.

The light was dark and warm. Even though it was a contradiction there was no other possible way to describe the sensation. It reminded him of his mother and it made him feel safe. In the dark light he could sense the presence of two women. One of them felt just like his mother; safe, warm and loving. Maybe that was his mother? He had wondered where she was.

He touched the light and felt a zap. That hurt. He recoiled. Even if his mother was waiting for him he couldn't go. He tried again and it hurt just as the first time.

The other woman reached out for him. She felt cool, much like water. He liked water. Her touch soothed the hurting and he was brought into the dark, warm light.


"He's breathing!" Sirius exclaimed. Harry's cheeks had gone flush with blood as his heart had started beating again all of a sudden.

"Astounding," Dumbledore whispered.

"Harry! Harry!" Sirius called out to his godson, trying to wake him. The child wouldn't rouse and Sirius began to panic.

"Stop it, my boy," Dumbledore said gently. "Harry won't wake."

"What? What do you mean? He started to breathe again! His heart is beating! He is alive again! Why wouldn't he wake up?"

"His soul isn't here anymore."

"What?" Sirius felt that this was way over his head. "Tell me what you know, Dumbledore! This is about my godson, Merlin damn it! I have a right to know what's going on! James and Lily are dead, and now you are telling me that Harry, who just came back to life, won't wake up and that I should just allow it to be!"

The old wizard sighed deeply and sat down heavily in a rocking chair that stood in a corner of the wrecked nursery. It creaked under him, damaged along with the rest of the room, but remained whole. "The reason that the Potters became targets of Voldemort's and had to go into hiding was a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" Sirius scoffed and stroked Harry's cheek to keep from doing something rash, he used the soft, once again warm skin, as an anchor.

"There are some true prophecies," Dumbledore explained. "All prophecies have the potential to be realized. Especially ones that are acted on. Two years ago I witness I prophecy about Voldemort's end. A child born at the end of July would be his vanquisher. Voldemort would have to mark him. Harry is now destined to defeat Voldemort. There was, however, more to the prophecy. It spoke of a second destiny for Harry, one he would have to leave to fulfil. I believe that he will wake in time. When the time is right, Harry will return and hopefully save us all."

"How do you know?"

"I know because it has already happened."


Uther sat upon his throne. The only sign of the tension the King felt was in the rapping of his fingers in a steady pattern against the armrest. The Queen was in labour and everyone who was important had gathered in the citadel's throne room to await news. Soft chatter filled the hall, but no one engaged the King in conversation, knowing well that it wasn't the time for that.

The grand doors were opened and through them walked the Court Physician, Gaius. The old man walked up to the king and he smiled. "Congratulations, sire. You are the father of a healthy baby boy."

Uther let out a relieved sigh and sagged a bit on his throne, taking one short moment to let the good news sink in. He then straightened in his chair again, coming to attention. "And Ygraine? How fares my Queen?"

"She is resting. The birth was straining, but she is well and will make a full recovery in no time."

Now the King smiled widely. He rose from his seat, back straight and face proud. "Rejoice my Friends! Camelot has a Crown Prince!"

Cheers followed those words. Cups were raised in toast and everyone drank for the prince.

The celebrations were cut short when over the clamour of happy voices, a shriek was heard. Everyone fell silent, making the scream ring all that much louder. It was the scream of a woman in terrible pain.

"Gaius," the King said in a warning tone, half rising from the throne. "What is happening?"

"I don't know, sire." Gaius and Uther left the throne room, rushing through the corridors to the Royal Birthing Chamber. When they were climbing the stairs, Ygraine's scream died.

Halfway down the next corridor the met a woman who came rushing down the hall in their direction. Her hands and clothes were drenched in blood. Some of the knights drew their swords preparing to meet an enemy.

"Sire," the young woman sobbed out as she saw them. She said no more, her voice having died in a choke.

"What is it girl? Tell me!"

"It's the Queen, she…" The woman didn't get an opportunity to say more.

Uther rushed past; his cloak billowing behind him and Gaius tight on his heels. They reached the birthing chamber where everything was deathly quiet.

The Queen's First hand maiden stood inside the door. Her face was stained with blood. Her eyes lowered in sorrow. "I'm sorry, Sire," she whispered.

The King passed her and took in the scene. Ygraine lay on the bed. Her blond hair spread out over the pillow. Her face was covered in sweat, but she looked serene, almost like she could be sleeping. Her pale lips were slightly upturned in a small smile, as if a lovely dream graced her sleep. Her elegant hands were entwined and rested on her once again flat stomach, but below her hands waited a nightmare.

"No." Uther saw it but he did not believe it. He could not. Everything was red. The sheets were soaked in blood. The King collapsed to the floor. "Noooo!" Another scream echoed through Camelot that night, followed by the squeals of two infants.


"You knew this would happen!" Uther accused and charged at the woman his sword raised, ready to strike.

Nimueh looked impassively at the raging man who had invaded her temple. With a whispered word her eyes glowed golden and an impenetrable barrier was erected around her, making her safe from any hostile advances.

"What did I know?" she asked with stoic calmness.

"Ygraine is dead! My wife is dead!" Uther cried, the madness of grief shining in his eyes and twisting his mouth.

Nimueh's emotionless mask faltered a little as she too was filled with sadness. Her friend was dead. She had said that she was willing to give up her life for her son. However, anger at the accusation took precedence over grief.

Uther continued screaming accusations. "You knew that Ygraine would die! She's dead and it's your fault!"

"Listen to me, Uther Pendragon! It is not my fault that your wife is dead! You came to me asking for aid in providing you with an heir! Do you not have a son know? Are you not happy?"

"I never agreed to this! You never told me that she would die…" the King's voice broke. He lowered his sword.

"That's the way of the Old Religion," Nimueh said matter-of-factly. "There must always be balance. A life for a life. It was never said what life would be taken. There was no way for me to know that Ygraine would have to pay the price."

"You lie! You knew!" the King raged.

"You will not see reason, so I won't even try." Nimueh sighed and rose from her seat. She walked to the barrier and stood a foot from the angered man, staring steadily into his eyes. "I gave you what I promised. You have a son - oh, forgive me - you have two sons. You got more out of the bargain than anticipated. You should be pleased."

"Pleased? You mock me, you vile sorceress! My beloved wife is dead. I will never know happiness again."

"I see."

"I banish you from Camelot! If you ever return you will be executed. You have until sunset to leave my Kingdom. If I ever see you again, I'll burn you at the stake. You and all of those with magic will pay for what you've robbed from me. I swear that I will purge the evil of magic from this world. The Old Religion will die by my hand."

"You speak of things you do not understand! Magic is everywhere and you cannot shut it out! Your own blood will rise up against you if you try!"

"Quiet, witch! Be gone before I slay you where you stand!"

"You will regret this Uther. You have my word."

"We shall see."

"We shall. And it might be sooner than you'd like."


A month passed and Uther had yet to go and see his son. He had made known that all magic was banned from his Kingdom. Anyone caught practicing the Old Religion was an enemy of Camelot. A decree had been erected which said that any who performed magic would face a penalty of death, the same fate awaited anyone who harboured a known practitioner of magic.

He had confronted Gaius who had forsworn the Old Religion and Magic, and he had been allowed to stay as court physician.

He had also faced Tristan de Bois, Ygraine's brother, in single combat. Tristan blamed him for his sister's death. Uther had won the duel and Tristan had with his dying breath sworn that he would rise from the dead to avenge Ygraine. Uther hadn't been in his right mind ever since he lost his wife. He only knew anger. He only knew his quest to eradicate all magic from the world.

Uther was alone in the in the audience hall when Gaius approached him.


"What do you want, Gaius?" the King asked roughly. He had still to forgive the Court Physician for his part in what had happened and for his affiliations with magic.

"You haven't seen your heir yet."

I haven't, have I?" He had been so devastated that he hadn't gone to see the child. He still didn't know if he could. If it weren't for the child his Ygraine would still be alive. But he would never blame a child. No one chooses to be born. It wasn't the child's fault that Ygraine was dead, and he shouldn't have to suffer for it.

"I should see him then," Uther said as if he had not been avoiding it for a full moon cycle and rose from his seat.

"Them, sire."

"Them?" Nimueh's words came back to him. She had said that he had two sons, apparently that had not been a lie.

"You have two sons, both healthy and strong. Twins. They were born only minutes apart. I came to inform you as soon as the first boy was born. None of us had thought that the Queen would have twins. It was hard on her to give birth to the first boy and her body couldn't handle another one so soon after."

Uther remained silent as the two men walked to the room where the children were kept.

A nurse curtsied when they arrived. "Your Majesty."

"Leave," he told her shortly, and she left with another curtsy.

Uther approached the crib hesitantly. He had never hesitated when he went into battle, but facing his own child was much harder.

Gaius noticed his unease and picked up one child. "This is your eldest, the crown prince. You have to name him."

Uther looked down at the bundle in Gaius' arms. Amid the red cloth there was a small face with a perfect button nose, perky, pink lips and rosy cheeks. A tuft of blond hair covered the forehead and the child had blue eyes. Uther smiled as he looked into eyes that looked so much like his own. "Arthur," he whispered, "my son."

He took the bundle from Gaius and regretted that he hadn't gone to see his son sooner. This was the most precious thing he had. His son. His heir. His children were all that he had left of Ygraine and he would never forget that. He had paid dearly for them. Her death should never be allowed to have been in vain.

Gaius presented him with the other bundle. The child looked just like his brother. He had the same nose, lips and blond hair. His eyes were closed so the now very proud father couldn't tell if his second son also shared his eyes.

Uther tried to think of a name. He had been settled on Arthur for a long time. Ygraine had agreed with him, even if it had been his choice. The King tried to think what she would have liked. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought that he could hear a whisper in the wind that came in through the open window.

"Harry," he said softly. He opened his eyes and met his second son's green eyes.

He had lost something that nothing ever could replace, but he had gained something of great value. Camelot would be safe for now he had heirs who could one day take up his crown and continue his legacy.

"Arthur and Harry, the princes of Camelot."

End Chapter 1

A/N 1st December 2012:

So I started a new story. A crossover. I've read a lot of Merlin/Harry Potter crossovers lately and I've become sort of addicted to them, and now that I've begun to run out of stories to read I had to start my own. I have read all Harry Potter Books, but when it comes to Merlin I've seen as far as the first episode of season 4, I'll watch more though that's for sure.

I hope you enjoyed this "prologue" and that there weren't too many spelling mistakes. If anyone would like to beta the story feel free to let me know. I'd also be happy to know what you think and what you would like to happen.

[Last Edited 29th June 2016]