Okay, not my favorite, but I felt I had to write a sequel. I'm not sure how it compares to the first one, which I loved, but still. The credit for the idea goes to Anya (an anonymous reviewer, who said "I do have to say though, I am PRAYING that you make it either a two piece or write a sequel or a companion piece to this of Arthur finding out it was really Morgana being the evil one and all that Merlin had done to save him and his father and his kingdom time and time again." That review sprung a bunch of plot bunnies, so I had to write this.

Thank you to all my reviewers! You inspired me to sit down and release the plot bunny.

Nightmares haunt me, plaguing my soul; they never stop. The magic attacks continue, getting worse. The dragon is released, and it comes at us with pure fury, attacking us, reaping its vengeance. Camelot is losing men. My father dies, poison. Nobody mourns him. They just thrust the job onto me, needing a ruler. I do my best, but sword and sinew is no match for magic. We never had this issue before, what changed?

The courtiers never mention Merlin anymore, but they think of him. Rumors fill the halls about what happened that day, rumors that I alone can prove. I say they are false, but in my ears my guilty conscious says otherwise, twisting the words through my mind. I'm more zombie-like than anything. New rumors erupt, "Is the new king unfit to rule?" "Will the crown go to Morgana?" Life goes on, but just barely.

The kingdom is in disarray, famine has overtaken us, and beasts kill off what few survivors remain. There is talk of mutiny in the lower town.

It happens, overnight. The next morning, I'm in chains, most of my guards dead and sorcerers overtaking the castle. One it seems remains. One betrayer joined the side of magic, helping to fuel the madness.

"Morgana," I hiss, glaring as I hang in invisible chains, covered in mildew and sweat from the dungeons.

"Arthur," she draws her sword, pointing it at my bare chest. I struggle, but then the cold tip of the blade comes to rest on my skin and I freeze.

"How could you?"

"I have no love for Pendragons," She smiles, a looming grin that I recognize; after all, I had used it so many times before, on an opponent I was about to kill. "Luckily for me, you killed the one thing standing in my way,"

"What are you—" Is she talking about him? She can't be, he was evil, would have joined her.

"That fool warlock, always getting into my plans," But that would mean— "But you took care of him. You helped me accomplish this, Arthur Pendragon. I've waited for this day, and finally the waiting has paid off. This is for everything you have done," Those words, the words that had haunted my every waking moment, used against me. How could she know?

She stabbed, straight through the heart. I chock, and my eyes betray me, allowing tears to slip past the guards I tried so hard to keep up. I hang there, forced to watch my blood seep out of the wound. My brain grows numb and fuzzy; my consciousness slowly seeps away from me. I gasp for my final breath, pure agony filling my entire body, down to the last inch. Merlin had been fighting her, this. Had he been trying to help? And I killed him. I feel the echo of those moments, and realized what the bards mean about your life flashing before your eyes. Except mine was that minute, watching him die in the same fashion I would. I was the real monster.