Hello all!

Again, I know, I know. It's been far too long since the last update. I'm so sorry. And I really do hope you enjoy this as it is the official last episode of the ceiling. Same as I did with season 4, I'll add snippets and maybe an epilogue, but those haven't been written yet. I do have ideas though! So don't fret, guys.

This was super stressful to write and I wanted everything to be perfect and I really hope you guys are proud of it and it was all you expected it to be. It gets a bit eh in some parts when my writing trickled away and I wasn't sure how to end it but this is what my final product is.

I didn't do the episode with Mordred's love interest, because I felt it didn't add anything to my plot personally.

CHAPTER 17 - DIAMOND OF THE DAY

"You will learn to crawl under oceans above
That force will fuel its hate
When it drains your soul it will flood the gate

Fear is a device
So quiet and precise
it's not what i allow
not in my world now

Deep beneath the light
A spark will now ignite
And you will see me now
This is my world now."

- Les Friction "Firewall."

Merlynn woke early that morning. Nothing too surprising - restless sleep was a commonplace in a world like hers. It didn't shock her to see the grey light seeping through the window,or the dread that rolled in her belly like tumbling waves.

No, it was the sudden, peaking thought: When will Morgana know?

She'd had the thought, of course. One must (especially her), with so many people having knowledge of who she was. People Morgana could torture until 'Emrys Merlynn Emrys' was peeling off their tongues in a broken choir. But it was never had with so much clarity. When will Morgana know, not, 'will she figure it out?' or 'will she ever know?'

When will.

Trouble was on its way, that was clear.

[][][][][][]

Keeping a man on the brink of death was a difficult task. It took practice, precision, determination; she had plenty of subjects to test. Alator was a special case, so Morgana could spare her impatience and her anger. She was a violent person; if her prisoners did not talk enough, she would stop them talking all together. Alator irked her. She could not kill him, not until he told her who Emrys was. He was the closest person to Emrys that she knew.

Because no one knew Emrys.

Not even she, the one cursed by her face. Her old, hard face; somewhat familiar but fearsome, brave. It was a face that haunted Morgana for years.

So keeping Alator for weeks, alive but shaken, and then three more days almost dead, was a sacrifice she was willing to make. All he said were prayers: "Oh gods, forgive me. Take mercy, and take me. I am yours, oh gods. I am so sorry, Emrys. Forgive me." On the third day, he told her to end his suffering.

Morgana smiled and told him about Finna. "It's a shame you have to go through this pain. Finna already told us about Emrys, about you." She let out a little pitying sound, a tsk. A sad noise. "After she told us, I guess the pain was just too much - she was far too weak, too old to live with the guilt," and she pet his bald head and left him to weep.

The fourth day, as she was slicing thin little cuts into his body, he begged her for death again. She grinned and said, "oh, but aren't you Cathas' supposed to be unable to feel pain? Don't tell me you're getting soft on me now, Alator." Morgana left him on the table, smug and still laughing.

She tortured him with the Nathair after that. He took it well, much better than she had expected (even admired him a little for his devotion). A second dosage of venom later, and he was shouting and scrambling, clutching at his head and the walls and even the ends of her mud-slick dress. And she felt pity.

"Tell me who Emrys is, Alator, and I'll make the pain stop. I'll let you walk from this," and maybe she would keep her promise.

Mentioning Her name sent a shiver through her bones. Even the word made her fear, sunk deep into her paranoia rotten bones and rattled them. Everyone could be Emrys. Everyone could know Emrys, like some inside joke that she was never a part of. It set off a desperation in her, so harsh she would blink out of haze and realize she had sat in her throne for four days without even moving.

Thinking thinking thinking, always thinking, about Emrys.

Alator smiled at her, like he'd won. "You can rot in hell, Morgana. I'll never tell you." He spat at her feet.

She pictured his brain, wood splintering and digging deeper until they came through the other side. Morgana watched Alator begin to scream, blood spilling from his ears.

"TELL ME WHO EMRYS IS."

He kept screaming, but never spoke.

"TELL ME WHO SHE IS."

Her voice began to crack, her eyes welled with tears and her hands began to shake. She grabbed Alator's throat and lifted him in the air (with help from magic, of course). "Alator, tell me who Emrys is. I will torture you until you are nothing but a sad little boy, though I'm already halfway there." She smirked, swallowing tears. "Tell me who she is."

She tightened the grip on his throat; he never told her, never glanced away from her eyes. Morgana brought the Nathair out again and poisoned him. As the poison began to spread, she pictured his brain again. Alator convulsed on the floor and choked out prayers she'd never heard before. She spoke over his pleas for salvation, screaming at him to tell her who Emrys was over and over until her throat dried out.

"Merlynn."

The world froze. Morgana reeled back from Alator, and leaned against one of the rotting pillars that supported her castle.

"What?" she whispered, though she already knew what he was going to say.

"Emrys - Emrys," he spat. Alator looked to the heavens, sobbing, "I am so sorry, Emrys. I have failed you. Gods, please forgive me."

Morgana felt nothing as she snapped his neck. She heard the dull, wet thud of his body, but did not move. Her Saxons were around her and she felt them become nervous, whispering among themselves. They often did. They called her mad.

Merlynn?

The world around her was suddenly filled with such clarity. It all just made so much sense, and she hated herself for not figuring it out before. It was so obvious; Merlynn was so obvious. And yet, so unsuspecting, so very Merlynn. A buffoon, a bumbling girl with the too-big ears and the too-big smile, and the body so wafer thin you'd think she could be a boy without the long mop of hair.

"You don't have magic, Merlynn. You couldn't hope to understand."

"I do understand, believe me."

Morgana trusted her, once. All her secrets, even ones she hadn't the heart to tell Gwen who was her best friend (former, no longer). Merlynn had a trusting face, a kind smile; a sweetness to her, a presence that made you feel safe because she was always going to help and 'I promise to help you, Morgana.'

"SO MANY CHANCES."

She heard the Saxons step back, gasp. Grown men afraid of her? Good.

They could've helped each other. They could've ruled the world.

It was too late now. Far too late. None of it mattered. It was their destiny to be enemies. "She will be your doom."

No, Morgana could change fate. She knew she could. She would kill Merl - Emrys, she would kill Arthur, and she would finally be free.

[][][][][][]

A drink was okay. Two drinks were fun. Seven? A terrible idea. Especially for a Queen. Oh, Merlynn could hear the rumors now; a woman not fit for a queen, a servant in imported threads and jewels. But she was glad Arthur was there. A king and queen getting drunk together in a tavern seemed like a fabulous idea to her. Connected to the people, having fun; there was no line between the commoners and the royals.

They were people, all people, heads buzzing with drink and laughter on their tongues.

Of course, gambling was commonplace in the tavern. Merlynn had only ever played three times. Once, against Lancelot (she won), once against Gwaine (she lost) and now, against Arthur. The odds were inconclusive. But she would win, because she her belly was warm and she wanted to win.

It was four to two on Arthur's side, though she was letting it happen. He was so happy about it, so triumphant, that she almost decided to let him win. Then she saw his ego spark, one that lead to constant ridicule and remarks about, 'that time I beat you, Merlynn, three months back?'

That wouldn't happen. No, not this time.

Having magic for all her life, masking it for most, but using it for all taught her many things. The right light mistook the gold of her eyes for a trick of the light.

Arthur was winning thus far, four to two, but she was letting him win. She hoped he knew that by the amused little smirk on her lips. He had a triumphant grin on his and a twinkle in his eye and she almost thought about letting him win.

She thought better.

He guessed three. The tavern cheered when the numbers rolled up, and he dropped more coins into the pile. "Oh Merlynn, feel free to retire at any time," he chuckled. "There's no disgrace for a woman to lose to her husband."

"What about a king to a woman?" she grinned. Merlynn took ten silver from her pocket and dropped them in the middle, snatching the dice from his side of the table. There was tension in the air, crackling between them and in the tavern. "Ten." She cupped the dice in her hand and blew into the palms of her hand ("for luck," she'd say). She shut her eyes to hide the golden glow and let the dice roll.

Merlynn faked a shocked scream and jumped in the air, laughing as Percival took her over his shoulder and spun. She saw the look on Arthur's face, suspicious and a little annoyed, his lips pursed. He knew exactly what she'd done.

"Unbelievable," he declared.

"I guess it's just luck," she shrugged, grinning again as she collected the coin. "What were you saying about disgrace, my dear husband?"

The tavern whistled.

"Enjoy this moment while it lasts, Merlynn," he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't worry, I will."

Arthur snatched the dice and muttered, "Twelve." As he threw it, she coughed, causing him to fumble as the dice fell from the cup. Four. She had to hide her snicker at the way he looked at her then. "You threw me off!"

"How?"

"You just coughed!"

She frowned, hiding the smile that pulled at the edges of her mouth. "So sorry, I had a tickle in my throat." The men around her laughed; she took great pride in that. In the tavern, their status meant next to nothing once there was a bit of mead in everyone.

when it came to horsing around and it mean that the people could laugh at their king's expense without consequences.

No doubt they were going to take advantage of that.

"No," he raised his voice, "you coughed - deliberately."

"Oh no, drat." She snapped her fingers, exaggerating her frown. "I knew you'd discover my secret - there is no way to get past you, Arthur. Silly me for trying to fool you."

He was not amused. Merlynn placed more coins in the pot, challenging him. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "It's gonna be like that now, is it?" he said, leaning his hands on the table. Oh, she was going to be in for a punishment when they returned to their chambers. She rubbed her thighs together, squeezing them to relieve the sudden pressure she felt.

"That's how it's gonna be," she stated. "I might try my hand on a twelve." Merlynn completed the same procedure, and threw the dice across the table, knowing she'd win.

The tavern cheered; even the barman raised his flagon in a toast to her.

[][][][][][]

Once they were in their chambers, Arthur had her pressed up against the door, mouth slanting over hers. There were no soft, tender touches, but rough fingers and teeth and nails digging into skin. She slid up the door with his hands on her hips and she slung her legs over his waist, grinding into him just as hard as he was touching her.

"I can't believe you cheated," he growled against her throat, nipping at her collarbone so sharply she had to yelp.

"The world is a dog eat dog world, Arthur," she replied with a shrug. "Sometimes drastic measures need to be take - ah!" He slid his hand down her trousers and roughly pushed two fingers in her sopping heat, curling up.

"You made me look a fool." Arthur was teasing her with quick, short strokes, thumb rubbing over the place that made her shake.

Merlynn pressed kisses down his throat, dragging her teeth across his flesh and biting down at the base. "Your money is mine - surely it's not a loss."

"It's an ego loss. There's a difference," he assured her and laughed a little as she snorted in amusement.

"You're such a fool."

"But your fool."

Merlynn took his hand and gave him a silly grin, ready to ravish him proper for the first time in what felt like years. As she lead him to the bed, her arm hit something hard and wooden and it echoed through the room. Curious, she turned and saw a large box sitting on their bed, slightly ajar.

"That wasn't there when we left," she muttered, more to herself than to Arthur. She put herself in a defensive position in front of him. Gwen would've left a note.

"What is - oh, a gift perhaps?" Arthur, oblivious, made a move toward it. The box was far too out of place.

"Don't!" she yelped and, quicker than she thought possible, took his arm and tugged him away from it.

"Merlynn, stop being so paranoid," he rolled his eyes and kissed her. "Some dumb box isn't going to hurt you."

Her eyes moved away from his face, which glowed from the mead in his belly, and saw something on the wall. It was dark, long and shiny, curling in on itself - but breathing. Her breath caught in her throat. It's head - what she thought was a head, but it had no eyes or a mouth - lifted up from the wall and looked at her.

"No, but that might," she quipped before shoving him to the floor, anticipating the monster striking out at them. It flew at her face, though she could not stop it from latching onto her. Merlynn felt energy drawing out of her, felt it melt in her body and seep into the thing that was suffocating her.

Hands took hold of it and was able to tear it from her face; she lay there panting and heaving on the floor. Arthur swung a sword (which he must have grabbed while it was sucking on her face) and struck down, slicing it down the middle. It let out a shriek but died, shriveling in on itself like a slug.

Arthur took hold of her pale face and kissed her forehead, "Merlynn, are you alright?"

"I -"

"We need to get you to Gaius."

Gaius had little to say about what they told him. "She must know what you are, Merlynn, for this creature that you speak of sucks the magic out of its user."

So that's what would happen when Morgana found out, she mused to herself rather sarcastically. Merlynn surprised even herself at how calm she felt after discovering that Morgana knew. The saying, 'calm before a storm,' came into her mind as she sat still on the chair, a slow shake rising in her fingers. Yes, there was fear, and she knew there was a battle ahead of her. But she was not as panicked like she thought she'd be.

Morgana was quite terrified of Emrys, of her destiny and her power. So, it was Morgana who should be living in fear, not her. But, her body was weak, so weak she could struggled to lift up her hands to grab the cup in front of her.

"I'll be back in a moment," Arthur muttered, kissing her once before retreating down the stairs with the physician.

"Strangath," she blessed the gods for her magic. Yet, the cup she longed for did not move. Not even a shake. "Strangath." Merlynn hated herself for the tremor in her voice, the crack at the end of the spell. "Strangath!" she even screamed it but the cup didn't move once. "No, no, no."

They must've heard her, as they came rushing up the stairs and to her side immediately. "What's wrong, Merlynn?"

"I've lost my magic."

Merlynn was gripped with the sudden realization and almost doubled over. The mere tremor in her hands turned into a violent spasm and there was such a terrible ache in her chest that she cried out. The one thing that kept her safe and made her feel strong was taken from her and she was so scared that she would never get it back. She'd never lived without magic, not ever.

Morgana stole Emrys away from her.

[][][][][][]

She woke in a bath. Merlynn didn't remember when, or how, but when she finally came into focus she was warm and breathing a lavender scented steam. It calmed her racing nerves.

"You'd gone into shock," Gaius explained as they made eye contact. "You've been in shock for the past hour or so."

"I don't...what?"

He gave her a small, sad smile, and she saw the pain cross his features. A look she'd seen countless times, though it was usually directed to the dying patients he dealt with. Merlynn never thought she would be on the receiving end of his physician smile. So she looked into the steamy water and played with the lavender leaves she could see floating on the surface.

"We've found information about what Morgana did to you. On the box was the sign of the gean canach."

"It's got something to do with the old religion, I presume?" she was in no mood for vague. She needed answers.

He didn't seem surprised at her venomous tone. "The gean canach is a fearsome creature by the tears of the earth mother Nenamed. It devours the magic of others, draining them of their power."

"Is there any way for me to get my power back, or am I doomed to be mortal for the rest of my life?" she asked. Merlynn felt hollow, sick even, when she couldn't feel the regular pulse of magic through her veins.

"I am inconclusive so far. I'm sorry, Merlynn," he squeezed her shoulder.

"I guess Uther missed a few creatures in the Purge." Good on you, Uther.

[][][][][][]

The Saxons attacked that night. She was still in the bath, the water forgotten and cold. Merlynn was so lost in her thoughts she hardly care for the shiver that had taken over her body. Merlynn heard the knights shout orders, heard them roar for surrender. But she couldn't move. She was powerless to stop the Saxons, and Morgana, and whatever else the High Priestess decided to throw at her.

Gaius had long abandoned her to help with the wounded, and he assured he'd be fine with Gwen as a temporary assistant. But when the noise grew louder, she knew she had to get up. Yes, her magic was gone, but she was still Merlynn. The helpful queen and resourceful servant, and if she didn't go out there, if she hid and wept, she'd be no better than a coward.

So she dressed and went out to where Gaius was. There were many knights, bloody and clutching at wounds in various states of distress, and she walked around them with a reassuring smile on her face. They would all be fine; at least, she hoped. She had no sense of anything anymore; her natural intuition seemed to be taken alongside her magic.

"The garrison at Stowell was attacked," Gaius said, when she reached him.

"Morgana."

"It cannot be a coincidence. She picked the moment you are most helpless to attack," he spoke the words she'd been thinking since she heard the warning bells.

Merlynn only hummed. "She seems to be good at that," she remarked bitterly. "I don't know what to do, Gaius. I don't think I have it in me to fight; I have sword skills, sure, but I depended on my magic to keep me alive and it's gone."

"Until we figure this out you'll help me with the wounded," Gaius took her by the wrist and lead her over to a pretty girl with a gash in her leg. "Your skills as a physician and a queen are still valid."

She noticed Gwaine hovering close by, his hand outstretched as if to comfort the girl but unsure as to how. "Sorry," she smiled at the girl. She had very big, very blue doe eyes that glimmered with tears and a mop of silky blonde hair that was far too beautiful for a farmer's daughter. "This will hurt a little bit."

As she poured the salve over the gash, the girl squeaked. "When I think about cleaning my wounds and the pain, I remind myself that if it didn't get cleaned it'd have to come off or I'd die," Merlynn said. She realized she was rambling, and being unhelpful, but heard the girl giggle and felt remarkably better.

The girl smiled, and she barely winced as Merlynn finished typing up the gauze. "Thank you, my queen," she said, bowing.

"It's a pleasure."

She turned to Gwaine and eyed him as he helped the girl stand. There was a fond smile on his face. Merlynn was quite surprised. He wasn't fond of any girls; well, not a single girl. Maybe her once, years ago, but since the possession event he hadn't really shown particular interest in many ladies. His behavior now, for this girl, was sweet.

"I told you the queen knows what she's doing," he chuckled.

"Do you have news from Stowell?" the girl asked, her eyes widening. "Have you heard from my family?"

Gwaine sighed, hands resting on her shoulders. "Eira, your family...the people of your town..."

"It seems that you are the only survivor," Merlynn piped up. She was queen, and she was quite used to being the barer of bad news. The look on the girls face was heartbreaking. "If you weren't, there would be more people from Stowell here. I'm sorry."

"I'm...alone."

She knew exactly how Eira felt, though, it seemed the knight was more than ready to take on the role of comforter. "I'm sorry, Eira," there was a fierce look on his face. "Whatever happens, you'll be safe here in Camelot. You have my word."

Gwaine glanced up, and made eye contact with a disbelieving Merlynn, who's eyebrows raised high at the scene. He rolled his eyes at the smirk on her lips. 'Later,' she mouthed.

"Thank you."

[][][][][][]

Arthur officially declared war on Morgana that night.

Which was no surprise to Merlynn. She agreed to the decision to fight back against Morgana's forces. But there was a nagging at the back of her mind preventing her from participating in the battle plan. She did not know why; as long as they strayed away from Camlann, she was quite content with whatever the plan was.

They would leave Camelot.

Ride out to meet Morgana and her Saxons, and finish it.

She wondered if she had any reason to go into battle. Merlynn was skilled with a sword, but her magic kept her alive and safe, and ensured she could defend herself at every turn. She finally understood how Morgana felt when she drained her magic - hopeless and weak and mortal. So much strength, snatched away.

"But, sire, Morgana commands an army of thousands," Leon reminded.

"If we hide, we're cowards. If they attack the citadel - which they've done before - it'll cause more damage than we can afford," she replied. "If we head out to middle ground and stand against Morgana there, we are on equal terms."

"Exactly. We cannot stand by and let our citizens be slaughtered. Those are not the values that Camelot were built on. Whatever the outcome of this battle, my sister cannot and will not desecrate those values. A war has begun," Arthur declared.

They planned for hours, stuck over the maps that would soon become an artwork of failed battle plans. Merlynn hovered nearby. She'd tasted war, and she was good at it, but Arthur's prophecy echoed in her head over and over as if she was shouting it from the top of a mountain.

"To reach Camelot, Morgana will have no choice but to cross the White Mountains. Now, the pass that gives passage to an army that size, is here," Arthur laid out three maps, each smaller than the rest.

"I know it well," Percival said. "The path leads a valley by cliffs on the other side."

He nodded. "That's where we meet them. Now we are outnumbered but if don't let them outflank us then we can hold the pass. Percival, at what point is the pass at its narrowest?"

"Here, sire," he pointed out an unnamed located scrawled on the parchment.

"What to they call this place?"

"Camlann, sir."

Merlynn left before another word could be spoken. She ignored their shouts, locking the door behind her (only for a few seconds, not enough to raise suspicion) and ran.

[][][][][][]

Mordred found her, hidden in an alcove with red eyes, and when he asked her what was wrong all she could say was, "Arthur's going to die."

He couldn't find the words to reply. But he held her close all the same, whispering words in her hair she was too shaken to decipher. "I can't..." he said. "I can't feel your magic, Merlynn. What's happened?"

Her trembling got worse, and her hands tangled in his shirt, her head buried in her neck. He was so, so worried for her, more worried then he'd ever been; he'd never seen her like this, so broken and vulnerable and empty. Mordred lifted her up and carried her to the king's chambers. His first choice would've been the forest (because she seemed to be so connected to the earth), but it was far too dangerous.

The guards at the door stood upright as they approached. "What is wrong with the queen?"

"Please, it is confidential information. I need to bring her inside." They said nothing else, only stepped aside and let him head inside and place her on the bed. "Emrys - Merlynn. Please. Tell me what's happened to you."

"She took my magic from me," her voice was low, quiet. He could see blood dripping from her palms from where she clenched her fists too tight. "She knows who I am now, Mordred, and she's stolen my magic from me."

He was silent for a while. What could he say to appease her? Emrys was Emrys, the most powerful being in the world and Morgana had snatched that away. Magic was everything to her, and it was gone. "I don't care what it takes, Merlynn, but we'll get your magic back," he swore. "I promise you - my oath as a druid, as a knight, I will do everything in my power to help get your magic back."

Merlynn swallowed, and then her arms were around his nick and her cheek was against his. His reaction took only a second; he drew in the scent of her hair and held her so tight he was sure her bones would creak in protest.

"Thank you so much, Mordred," she whispered. "I am so grateful to have you."

"You... when I found you, you said that Arthur was going to die. What did that mean?" he said, pulling back from their embrace.

She shot away from him, eyes wide and movements frantic. "Oh! I almost forgot about Camlann. Oh, I need to get to Gaius."

And then she was gone.

He followed after; wherever she went, he would always follow.

[][][][][][]

It took her until Gaius' door before she realised that Mordred was following her. She sighed and faced him, a little out of breath from running and the tight strings on her corset.

"Mordred! What are you doing?" she asked.

He gave her a sheepish look. "Arthur is not only my king, but my friend. If you say he's to die, and you have more magic, you're going to need all the help you can get."

She paused, then sighed again, "Fine."

Mordred grinned triumphantly and trailed after her inside. Gaius was at his desk, smiling sadly when she came through, his brows furrowing when he noticed Mordred. "Merlynn?"

"Camlain. It's happening, Gaius," she said. Merlynn explained everything: from the war plan, to Arthur's prophecy (for Mordred's sake).

He only sat and listened, though his mind raced. Arthur Pendragon wasn't meant to die. There was a time in his life when he thought that Arthur's death was his true calling in life, to bring him and his Emrys together. But not now, no.

The thought of his king dying washed a cold feeling over him.

"You cannot go, Merlynn," Gaius begged. "You must persuade him."

She shook her head. "He'll not listen. This battle is all he's got to save his people - even I can't take on the army that's heading our way. Even if I told him his fate, he'd still go. He'd always go." Merlynn rubbed at her forehead, the skin irritating beneath the rough treatment. "The only thing I can do is protect him."

"I'll help as best I can," Mordred spoke up with a soft smile.

"But you can't protect him without your magic," Gaius said.

"Then I'll get it back," she replied.

He sighed, like she asked for the world. "I - I can't. It's beyond me - it's beyond most, Merlynn," he said her name as though she were a petulant child. Merlynn thought of the small children in her village, who saw knights glide through and ask their mothers silly things. 'Can we go where they're going, mother?' with demand and order and stomping of their feet. The children in her town always had a penchant for tantrums. Merlynn was never like that, not ever - she was the silent child, content to be in her home with her and William.

So when he spoke to her in that tone, the same those mothers used, she sat a little taller. "There must be someone, something. You don't understand, Gaius. I must find a way. If I can't, then it's not just Arthur who's going to die. It's everything we've worked for - everything I've worked for."

"But where?" his voice became quiet, resigned; he'd lost hope but he said the words she wanted him to say.

"The Crystal Cave, of course," she said.

Gaius frowned. "The Valley is crawling with bandits," he reminded her. "Without your powers you won't stand a chance."

Mordred (who she forgot was even there) let out a small cough, bringing them to his attention. He smiled, like she still had the earth crackling beneath her fingertips, like she was still Emrys. "She won't be going alone."

"I'll bring Gwaine, too," she said. "He's the best swordsman we've got, and if anyone knows bandits, its him."

Her bandit of a best friend.

Merlynn went to him with a lot of hope. She always went to the people she cared for when in need, because she rarely felt concern for rejection anymore. Aside from the early days, when Arthur shoved her down and kept shoving, when Morgana tore Camelot apart from the inside out.

She never thought - 'oh, they'll say no. No, I won't go to them,' because if the situations were reversed, she would say yes. A deep ingrained need to help those in need.

The girl from the attack was with him, in his chamber. A sight Merlynn had become accustomed to. It was curious that the girl was still there, though, which meant that Gwaine was - dare she say it - attached. And Gwaine didn't get attached. So she stared, and stared, and stared until the girl stared back and blushed bright pink.

"Oh! My queen," her voice was soft and quiet and sweet. It reminded her of a pillow. The girl bowed, and Merlynn felt ashamed that she had forgotten the girl's name. "Forgive me for being rude."

"It's fine," she smiled, kind, before it sunk to her feet and a frown took its place. "Where's Gwaine?"

"He's -" Gwaine came out from behind his changing screen with his civilian clothes and a gleaming smile.

"Merlynn," his grin faded when he saw her face. "Eira, please leave us."

Eira (that's it! she thought) left quickly, silently, not without a wary glance between the two of them. It was not common for a queen to enter a knight's chamber, not without nasty rumors of infidelity. Which, had already happened with the love spell fiasco between the two of them. She rolled her eyes.

"I've lost my magic, Gwaine. Morgana's - somehow - taken it all from me, and I need to get it back. The only, only place I can think of is within the Valley of the Fallen Kings." There was no point in side-stepping; they needed to leave five minutes ago. "Will you join me?"

His face was grim, but he held her close and pressed his mouth to her head. "Give me an hour."

[][][][][][]

Gwaine thought he already loved Eira, and they had known each other for a day. But she was new, and not-evil, and not-magic, and she was just nice. Nice to be around; she was calm, and friendly, and yes, a bit timid. But Merlynn was a bit timid sometimes, and he'd known enough women to handle every type, so timid he could do.

Her hair was cornflower and sunshine, and her eyes were the sky on the prettiest day of Summer. Gwaine took to comparing them, wondering why he went for a girl that was not-Merlynn - he just couldn't help it. Merlynn was dark hair and blue eyes like the sea crashing against rocks off the coast, and so thin and pale he wondered how she could fight. But Eira was golden from the sun and golden all over, like the gods took some of the sun and created a girl - this girl.

Maybe he needed the sun in a time like this.

So, when she came in after his queen left, he accepted her with a smile and a kiss.

"Where are you off to?" she said with a little, casual grin that it made him smile.

Merlynn had lost her magic and he was smiling. He felt guilty, and immediately frowned, pulled away from Eira and began putting on his chainmail and armor. "I need to do a favor for Merlynn - the queen."

Eira frowned and her face pinched, but only for a second. "But aren't you going to Camlann at sundown?"

"Yes, but this is important," he said. Gwaine could trust her. He knew he could. "We're going to the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

"Why?" she asked.

He kissed her on the mouth again, and raked his fingers through her hair. "Don't worry. I won't be long." She kissed him this time, and she was smiling.

[][][][][][]

Arthur had his armor laid out, pristine as usual (Gwen's handywork - not hers). Her work as a servant was always jarring, a job done but not finished; not entirely, at least. Merlynn was exceptional with clothes, though, always pressed and buffed (when asked). But Gwen's work was always perfect, not a smudge or crack or crease. Merlynn was almost jealous.

"I'm impressed," he remarked, noticing her in the doorway.

She smiled. It was dull, like the low thudding of her heart. "Gwen is wonderful." Merlynn didn't say that enough, didn't compliment Gwen, didn't thank Gwen enough. She made a note to do that more often.

Arthur was quiet for a beat...three beats...and he didn't move, not once. That was a stance he took when he was angry, or very sad. Or both. Usually both. Then, he spoke, "so where are you off to?"

For all his negative traits, Arthur was quite insightful. He knew her. She sighed, deep in her chest. "I can't go with you to Camlann. Not this time," she was quiet. "I can't go without my magic, so I'll be going to the Valley of the Fallen Kings to get it back."

"But -"

She turned from him. "I'm so sorry, Arthur. I'll be taking Mordred and Gwaine with me, just in case. I can defend myself with a sword, but not as well as they can." Merlynn finally faced him, and took his face in his hands; it felt cold, hard. "I can't help you without my magic. I can't face Morgana. I'm not whole without my magic, and you know it, and she knows it."

Arthur nodded; a cordial, King-like movement. He was withdrawing from her, as he did sometimes, to people who've hurt him. "I understand. I used to dream about you losing your magic, and everything being fine and us living a magic-free life," he admitted. "Maybe you'd be able to bear children then. Maybe, just maybe we could find a life together. Without Morgana. But now I see the truth. Without your magic you're a shell of a woman and I hate that, and I hate that you're not coming with me."

"I'm sorry -"

"Don't be," and he kissed her, hard, and there was passion and feeling and she knew he was being sincere. "I love you, and you come back to me as Emrys, alright? Nothing less." He grinned at her; no shame, no hesitance.

And she'd never loved him so much in her life.

[][][][][][]

The ride to the Valley was silent. It was nice, which was terrible of her to say. But it was. Nice. Quiet, mellow, the earth settled as if she hadn't lost her magic, as if Arthur wasn't dying, and it was nice. Merlynn even managed to give a genuine smile, for once, as Gwaine cracked a harmless joke about the end of the world.

"Thanks, by the way, for what you've done for Eira," he said. Mordred frowned and glanced at her. He searched through her mind (aware that she could not feel his presence) and picked at her thoughts until he found Eira. He saw a pretty blonde, and Gwaine, smiling and touching each other with such fondness.

"It's no problem," she replied, and nudged him. Managed another smile. "You seem to care for her."

He rolled his eyes, grinning. "Well, I couldn't leave her for the Saxons, could I?"

"Oh. Oh, of course, that was the only reason for saving her and keeping her in your chambers. Of course, Gwaine."

"You -"

Bandits were at them in seconds. In her trousers and hair messy, she looked anything but a queen. The three of them fought like men would, taking on the large group that ambushed them. Merlynn was confident with her skill with a sword, but magic always backed her up. She never feared when in battle - not until now, at least.

The three men facing her sent a ripple of panic through her system. She fought as best she could, but the panic made her hesitate, made her blind and scared and she called, "Gwaine!" in a voice piked with fear.

Gwaine took on the rest, killing them quick and with precision. Merlynn managed to kill the bandit in front of her, but collapsed when she ran him through. She was just so exhausted.

"Are you alright?" Mordred asked and lifted her up. His brows furrowed as he searched her for injury, though gave her a soft, sweet smile when he found none.

"Yeah. It's just weird not fighting with magic. I'm vulnerable," she said. "Thank you - the both of you."

Gwaine clapped her on the shoulder. "We have to protect our queen, eh?" he winked.

They reached the Crystal Cave later in the day. It was early dusk, and soon the sun would set, and the battle would begin. Merlynn hesitated, and stopped the two knights from continuing further.

"I'll make my own way from here," she said, pushing them back.

"Sorry?" Gwaine asked.

"I'll get my magic back, and I'll be safe. You must go now - the battle will start soon, and Arthur will need you two. I'll meet you two there." They hugged and she, for the first time, felt hope.

Maybe this time, maybe because they were on time, that she could - perhaps - change fate. Perhaps Arthur wouldn't have to die.

"Stay safe, Emrys," Mordred whispered in her ear. "I will protect Arthur with everything I have until you get there."

"Thank you, Mordred."

"Merlynn," Gwaine shouted, his grin more chagrin than ever. "Come back to us."

"Only if you do the same," she retorted. And with that, she entered the cave. It was darker than she remembered, but she knew the path and crawled through as if she had a thousand times.

Once she reached a cavern large enough for her to straighten her spine, she stood and looked around. Without someone to guide her, she was set to search through the darkness until she found the Crystal Cave. A gust of wind hit her, sudden and forceful and so cold she shivered. That was not right.

"Emrys." Morgana. She breathed in deep to calm her racing heart and stepped further into the open space.

Merlynn could not see or feel her - which scared her a lot more than she'd like to think about. It was something she was not used to. She tried to hone in her mortal senses to search for the High Priestess. How could Arthur do this with animals? she wondered. Better yet, how did Morgana know where she'd be?

"Emrys," she crooned.

"Shut up, Morgana," she hissed. She thought of the people in Camelot who could've betrayed her, and it all came to one conclusion: that peasant girl, Eira. The one smitten with Gwaine. No one else would've gone to Morgana. A deep anger roared up within her. When she got her magic, she was going to tear Eira to pieces.

"Emrys." Her voice was flat, cold; devoid of any emotion that would give Merlynn any satisfaction. Morgana knew she was without magic, knew she was vulnerable. Could she die? As Emrys, she was immortal.

She didn't want to find out if she could die. Not today.

"Face me," she shouted.

"I must say, I'm impressed," Morgana said, ignoring her. Her voice was everywhere and nowhere and it echoed through her head. "You've kept your secret well. Who would've thought, a worthless servant with all that power."

Merlynn smirked. "Queen," she corrected. "Or have you forgotten?"

"No, I have not," a change in her voice. Anger. "But you cannot help your dear husband now. You can't even help yourself."

"Why are you in the shadows, Morgana?" she taunted. Yes, she was now mortal, and yes, Morgana was a thousand times more powerful, but she would not let herself sob and beg. "Are you still afraid of me? Remember when I went to your hut, and you begged me. Begged."

Rocks shifted behind her and she turned to see Morgana, gaunt and pale and with fire behind her eyes. Merlynn drew her sword; she laughed. "I fear no one," Morgana spat. "Least of all you. You have defied me for the last time, Emrys."

She backed out of the doorway she had entered through. Merlynn followed, sword raised with unspoken threat, but all Morgana did was smile.

"Stanas ahreosath!"

The ground shook, rocks fell, and it was so, so silent.

Her vision blurred, the air around her buzzed, and she coughed up the dust that flew into the air like smoke from the collapse. Merlynn's body trembled. Fear filled her as she tried to pry the rocks away, fingers digging with such ferocity she was sure there was blood.

Some small rocks fell away, but it was not enough.

She stumbled back and began to cry.

Arthur was going to die - they were all going to die. All her friends, and her people; gone.

And she was stuck in a cave.

Merlynn sat against the rocks and closed her eyes. There was no escape from this place. Yet, as she lay back, a stream of blue light lit up the dark cavern. It was so bright and blinding, she had to cover her face with her hands. As it dimmed, she opened her eyes and looked up.

It came from a tunnel at the top of the cave.

Hope filled her as she climbed. She ignored the height, and the fear of falling, and climbed her way to the top. Merlynn saw the crystals lining the walls at the end of the hall.

She was so close.

Merlynn reached the center of the cave - finally - and she could feel the magic licking at her feet. The whole cavern hummed with energy. It was too much. Her body was so tired, and the feel of so much power on her weak body was overwhelming.

She collapsed.

[][][][][][]

Arthur paced, and paced, and paced.

He thought about his men, his people and his queen. There was no word from her - not even from Mordred and Gwaine, who had gone with her. All Mordred said was, "she'll come soon. I know she will."

It didn't soothe his concern.

They were far out of their comfort zone as it was. In Camelot, they were home, on soil they knew, and it would be much easier for surprise attacks and planning. Camlann was unfamiliar, new; he worried Morgana knew it a thousand times over and perhaps, she had the upper hand.

"What is it, Arthur?" Gwen asked. She had asked to come along, to help when Gaius needed it; their boy was safe in the kings quarters with Leon's woman.

"What if Sir Leon was right?" he asked, rubbing his hands over his eyes. His skin was raw and itchy, his bones tired. "Perhaps staying in Camelot was for the best."

Gwen smiled, and she touched his shoulder. "Your plan is brave and bold, and our only chance of defeating Morgana once and for all. Yes, we could of held out at the Citadel, but for how long? And at what cost to the kingdom? I have never for a moment doubted the valor and wisdom of this choice. We all believe in you, Arthur."

"Thank you, Guinevere," he muttered, and he hugged her. Something he was sure he'd never done before.

"Merlynn will come for us soon," she added. "She will be okay. She's a survivor."

Gwen's hope gave him hope.

[][][][][][]

"Merylnn," the voice was so familiar that it made her ache. She opened her eyes to see her father standing over her, a small smile on his ashen face. He was grey and black and dead. He wasn't real (how could he be?) but the sight of him brought tears to her eyes. "My daughter."

"Father," she whispered. "Are you real, or am I going mad?"

He chuckled. "Dead or alive? Real or imagined? Past or present? These things are of no consequence. All that matters is that you heed the words of your father who loves you. Do not let go, Merlynn, do not give in."

"The battle is already over, father," she said, grunting as she moved herself into a sitting position. The crystals were still buzzing with their power, making it hard to focus. "Morgana's won. There's nothing left."

"Ah, but only if you accept defeat," he said. "But if you fight, if you let hope into your heart, Morgana cannot be victorious."

The tears that had risen from the sight of Balinor now fell, and a sob escaped her. "What hope is there without my magic?"

He crouched next to her, his face soft and sad. "Merlynn, you are more than a daughter of your father. You are daughter of the earth, the sea, the sky. Magic is the fabric of this world, and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself. You cannot lose what you are."

Mordred was right; he was always right. She smiled, and reached for her father; her hand passed straight through his shoulder. "Thank you, father. But... I don't know how to find myself again."

"Believe, Merlynn. Believe what your heart knows to be true. That you have always been, and always will be," Balinor stood, and walked back to where he had appeared. "Rest now, and soon you will awaken into the light."

She closed her eyes, and slept.

In her head, she counted an hour. An hour of sleep, an hour lost, an hour away from stopping Arthur. When she stood, her body didn't protest; she felt as though she was floating on water. Merlynn looked down at her hands, saw no cuts or blood or bruises.

There was no pain. No exhaustion. She felt magic - her magic - crackle at her fingertips and course through her veins. Merlynn finally felt alive again.

She went to the crystals, searched for Arthur. Saxons, wetlands, Morgana; they're coming for him. She found him asleep, in his bed at camp.

"Arthur," she called to him. "Arthur. I'm so sorry I left, I'm so sorry for everything. I'll be with you soon I promise. Your plan is good and you can save our kingdom, but your army's flank is vulnerable. There's an old path over the ridge of Camlann and Morgana knows. She means to trap you. Find the path or the battle will be over before it's begun. I love you."

Merlynn stepped away from the crystals and went to one of the walls in the far side of the room, bare of the magical stones. She closed her eyes, and focused, deep inside of her being, called on to the magic she had yet to use again for so long, and let it burst through it.

The wall collapsed under the weight of her magic and she, Emrys, was finally free.

[][][][][][]

Arthur woke to Merlynn shouting in his head. Find the path or the battle will be over before it's begun. He knew it was her, somehow, speaking to him; which meant her magic had returned. He smiled, and dressed, and called for his men to wake.

"Sire!" Leon raced toward him. "The scouts report that Morgana's army is on the move."

"She'll attack before the night is over," he replied. "Tell our men to prepare."

"Yes, sire!"

Arthur watched as his men finished with their armor. "Percival, Gwaine! Take a patrol of men to the rear of us. You're looking for a hidden path running in the mountains. She means to outflank us, and we must stop her now." He turned to the rest of his men; they looked at him with promise, with expectation, that he would lead them to victory. He was so, so scared. "Tonight we end this war, we end a war as old as the land itself. War against tyranny, greed, and spite. Not all will greet the dawn, some will live, some will die. But each one of you fights with honour, and with pride. For not only do we fight for our lives, we fight for the future. The future of Camelot. The future of Albion. The future of the united kingdoms." Arthur lifted Excalibur into the"For the love of Camelot!"

"For the love of Camelot!"

[][][][][][]

Merlynn watched it all happen from within the cave. Her magic was aching to release; she was on the verge of trembling from the strain of it. Unbridled, new energy, reborn from a place inside of her that was taken from her.

She turned to see her father at her side. "Thank you, father," she said. "I wouldn't have been able to do this without your guidance."

He smiled. "No, Merlynn. You stand tall on your own two feet, as always. I only pushed you in the right direction."

"I'm grateful for it."

"You journey has only just begun. You wield a power you yet cannot conceive of. Only in the heart of the Crystal Cave will your true self be revealed." He began to walk to the centre of the crystals where she saw a gap in the ceiling, bright golden sun gleaming through. "Move towards the light. Do not be afraid. Trust in what you are, trust in what will be."

"Goodbye, father," and then she stepped into the light.

[][][][][][]

There was so much red. It was all Arthur could see. The sky was bleeding, it seemed, and it rained down upon them. The clouds were black. It was all terrible and red and dark, but his men fought hard. The blood on his skin was a second suit of armor, so thick and sticky he was sure nobody would recognize him. Which was fine by him. As long as he got to Morgana, he could care little about blood.

He was finally ready to defeat her.

Arthur just hoped Merlynn would get to her first. He swore he heard her just as the battle begun, wishing him well; he believed her voice to be real. She gave him hope. So he fought, and he fought. He could see Morgana in the distance; she was stood atop a rock, shooting blast upon blast at his men. She was cackling as she did it, her eyes the most vibrant gold he'd seen.

It was time for her to die.

A crackle of thunder burst through Camlann. He jumped from the force of it, and looked to the sky. Arthur saw Merlynn at the top of the cliff; her hair blew in the wind and if he could see her face, she'd be smiling. She sent lightning down onto the Saxons, killing the men around him. A white dragon flew above.

"Men, shields up!" he shouted as fire began to rain down upon them.

"Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai! Weas!" he heard Merlynn roar. The dragon reared up and flew away from the battle.

Arthur could hear Morgana screaming in rage. He grinned. You can't stop my wife, Morgana, he thought. With a new vigor, Arthur fought as many as he could in every direction; every crack of thunder, he knew they were winning.

His wife would protect them.

They'd kill Morgana together.

He saw a man, axe raised, coming toward him. A force flung him back; he turned, and Mordred was winking as he took the life of another Saxon.

A sudden, sharp pain shocked Arthur's system. He touched at his chest and felt metal and blood. The air knocked right out of him, and he stumbled. A body pressed up against his back. "You gave me no choice, brother," Morgana whispered, tearing the sword from his body.

He let out a chocked gasp as a white-hot, shallow feeling burned through him, and he fell.

[][][][][][]

The battle was over, and they'd won. Camelot won. It sent such relief through her system she gasped aloud, staggering on the cliff.

She saw some of her men, but the Saxons bodies littered the entire valley, through and through.

Merlynn couldn't feel Morgana anymore; she was little more than a wisp in the wind to her. She was either dead, dying or cowering in some hovel, which didn't worry her in the slightest. All that mattered to her was that Camelot, and Arthur, were safe and sound.

She raced down to the battlefield, greeting her soldiers; especially Mordred. As he saw her, his smile brightened his dirty face and he opened his arms to greet her. Merlynn raced into his arms and held him close.

"Thank god you're alive," she laughed.

"You did fantastic," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes. "No, you did. You're a fantastic knight, Mordred."

His cheeks turned a bright pink, but the smile never left him. "How'd you get it back?"

"Long story." Merlynn noticed something off. After a battle, no matter the size, Arthur always congratulated his men as if they were brothers. He never left his men, and she noticed they seemed confused as well. "Where's my husband?"

"Honestly, I thought he'd be with you."

"Oh."

She left without another word. Worry overcame her as she searched through the sea of bodies, praying that she did not see his face staring back at her.

Merlynn tried to swallow the tears welling in her eyes as she pulled back chain-mail of any blonde haired knight she could see.

After what felt like an age she finally saw him.

Untouched by other bodies, he lay there in the middle of the battlefield. She saw red seeping through his chain-mail, and a puddle of it at his side.

No. She called his name and ran to him. Arthur was breathing, though barely. His eyes fluttered but, as she shook and shook him, tears spilling down her cheeks, he was incoherent. Merlynn didn't wait for the other men. She tore at her clothes and wrapped the torn pieces around the wound. She then lifted his body to the best of her ability, slung his arm around her shoulder and carried him off the battlefield. She called for Firefoot, knowing the horse would hear her. She was waiting for them at the edge of the forest.

She kneeled down for her to lift Arthur onto her back, and then they walked.

She wasn't sure for how long they walked, as the sun was setting when they began their journey and now the forest was a dark blue. Merlynn touched Firefoot on the flank, asking for her to stop.

It took only a few moments to collect enough firewood, and then seconds to light a fire large enough to illuminate the forest. She dragged Arthur close to the fire, knowing he needed the heat to stay alive. She then pressed her hands against the wound and whispered the most powerful healing spell she knew of. Merlynn felt the flow, the power leaving her body, but as she lifted her hands there was no change.

"What?" she whispered to herself.

She tried the spell, again and again, but it just didn't heal. Her magic was useless against whatever had happened to him. Arthur would have to heal the mortal way, with time and poultices and needles and Gaius. She would need to get back to Camelot. Merlynn shouldn't have left the battlefield; she should've called for Gaius, anyone. She rubbed her hands, ignoring the blood that stained them, over her face in frustration.

"So stupid," she muttered. "So, so stupid."

But she cleaned his wound as best she could, lifting the sticky metal of his chain-mail and reaching underneath. By the time she had finished, the sky was black. She used all the power she could to call for Gaius; she begged him to come and, though she could not hear him, she knew he would be with them soon.

Merlynn did not sleep. She waited, and she watched the sun rise up in the early hours of the morning.

Only then did Arthur wake. She heard him gasp and shift, say her name.

"Arthur," she breathed, scrambling toward him and kissing him. He was cool under her lips, not hot as he usually was; so she kissed him harder. "How are you feeling?"

He tried to sit up, but yelled out and collapsed back to the makeshift pillow she created. "My - my side," he gasped.

"Sh, you're bleeding," she muttered into his hair, taking his hand and pressing it against her cheek.

"That's all right. I thought I was dying. That's loads better," he tried to joke, but saw the unshed tears in her eyes - and the tracks on her cheeks - and his smile lessened.

Merlynn bit her lip. "I thought the prophecy - I don't know what I thought." It was no time to bring up his destiny, and she knew it would scare him more than he already was.

"It's just a stab," he tried to reassure her. "I've been stabbed before - I'll be fine, Merlynn."

"I can't heal it," she admitted. "I tried. I exhausted myself trying, and yet I still couldn't heal you."

He ran his thumb under her eye and pulled her close, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll be fine," he said again, much harder this time. "It was Morgana's doing, so there's probably some magic barrier to this. But we'll fix it, and I'll heal, and we'll be okay."

Though his smile was genuine, she did not return it. Her hope was waning every second and she knew he could feel that. So she just put her head on his chest and wrapped herself around him, and waited for Gaius to save them.

It was mid day when Gaius reached them. He carried his old physician's bag, and a small handful of herbs. When he saw her, he touched her briefly on the shoulder then went to Arthur's side. He was asleep - most likely unconscious from the pain.

"Any change?" he asked.

"No," she answered. She narrowed her eyes at the herbs. "Is that all?"

Gaius glanced back at her, exasperated. "It's crawling with Saxons around here," he retorted.

"There's no yarrow, no lady's mantle," she hissed.

"I got comfrey."

"You should've got sticklewort. There must've been sticklewort."

He sighed. "Merlynn, I left the party in the middle of the forest. There wasn't much I could do. Now, why don't you go water and feed the horses? We can't hide here for much longer."

Merlynn ran her hands through her hair, visibly annoyed and gnawing at her bottom lip, but left to tend to the horses. She was glad to see a third horse tied to the saddle of Gaius'. "How did you manage that, you old man?" she laughed slightly.

[][][][][][]

Arthur opened his eyes. "Gaius," he whispered.

"How are you feeling?"

"A lot of pain and discomfort, and there's something wrong. This isn't a normal stab wound, I know it," he said. "I didn't want to worry her. She's scared enough as is, and I know she's only a slip away from breaking down."

Gaius lifted his chain-mail up his body instead of replying, and though the pain almost killed him, Arthur only grit his teeth. Merlynn removed the other pieces of his armour while he was unconscious, which was a relief to the both of them.

He lifted Arthur's shirt and checked over the wounds in silence. He saw Gaius wince, felt his hands still on his chest and tense.

"Is everything fine?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Gaius was silent for a few moments, and he didn't look Arthur in the eye. After what seemed like a lifetime, the physician finally glanced up. "It's a bigger wound than I was expecting, but it should be fine. Let's get this cleaned and wrapped."

The poultice was ice-cold on his skin, but a relief when it finally touched the open part of the wound. Arthur went slack and closed his eyes as Gaius wrapped it up, and for a moment he thought things would be okay. His wound would heal and they would return to Camelot, all smiles and hugs and he would finally be truly happy with Merlynn by his side.

But as Gaius finished and Arthur's eyes opened, he saw a troubling expression on the physician's face.

"You stay here and rest," he instructed as he glanced in the direction Merlynn had gone off to.

[][][][][][]

Merlynn was still feeding the horses when Gaius came to her. She saw his bloody hands and grimaced, turning her face into Firefoot's neck.

"How bad is it?"

"He has a fragment of sword embedded in his chest," he said, and her heart almost leaped out of her throat.

She clutched at the hair of Firefoot's mane. "I couldn't use magic to heal the wound, and maybe that's why. We'll use magic to draw it out," she replied with a shaking certainty.

"No, Merlynn. The blade that struck Arthur is no ordinary blade. I fear it was forged in dragon's breath. Its fatal power will not be easily denied," he told her.

Excalibur was the most powerful sword she knew of. If it had a twin, and that twin was in Arthur's chest, then she feared for his life more than she ever had. "Aithusa," she muttered.

Gaius nodded. "The blade's point is travelling inexorably towards his heart. Not even you could hope to thwart such magic. It would take a power as ancient as the dragons themselves."

"No," she said fiercly, ignoring the anxiety and the fear. Merlynn could fix things; she always found a way, somehow. She could do this. "There has to be something."

He paused, and she could see him thinking. "Only the Sidhe could possess such magic. The Lake of Avalon, take him there. That is the source of their power."

[][][][][][]

When dawn broke the sky it was finally time to leave their hideout. Merlynn hadn't slept since before she got her magic back, and while she was exhausted there was no time for her to sleep.

She shook Arthur and Gaius awake, then prepared some food for them that Gaius brought with him. Merlynn was on edge the entire morning until they were able to lift Arthur onto Firefoot's back once again. Though she was sure the pain was excruciating, he only flinched and groaned once, and for that she was so proud of his resilience.

"I love you," she whispered, squeezing his shoulder.

He grit his teeth as he shifted into a more comfortable position, and then smiled his brightest at her. "Gods, you know I love you too," though when he kissed her it was bitter and painful, like ashes in her mouth.

Merlynn went to Gaius, who was preparing his own horse for the journey back to Camelot. "I know I was betrayed by someone in the castle, Gaius," she said. Even thinking the person's name made her clench her fists. "Eira; the girl who's got Gwaine wrapped around her finger."

"What would you like me to do?" he asked.

"When you return, tell Gwen to lock her up and prepare her for when I return. She'll die at the stake for her crimes," she hissed.

Gaius touched her shoulder. "Is death the only answer, Merlynn?"

"There is a chance Arthur could die, and it'll be her fault," she spat. "There is no way I am letting her get out of this alive, whether I have to sacrifice her to the gods or burn her alive she will pay for what she's done. I don't care if Gwaine hates me."

He nodded, resolute, and held her close. "He has two days left, at best. Good luck, Merlynn," he kissed her on the head and mounted his horse. "I'll have your favourite meal waiting when you return."

"Thank you, Gaius," she whispered.

[][][][][][]

Gaius returned to Camelot later that day; he saw Gwen, Lancelot and Gwaine waiting for him at the steps. She let out a gasp when she saw him, racing to his side as he was helped from his horse.

"Did you find them?" she asked desperately.

"I did, Gwen. They're both alive," he said. "Let us head to my chambers. We have things to discuss." Once they reached the physician's chambers and he locked the door shut, Gaius began. "Arthur is badly injured. Merlynn is taking him to the Lake of Avalon; I believe it is where he can be saved."

"We must send some of the knights," Gwen declared. She glanced at the two knights. "Ready as many men as you can -"

"No," Gaius interrupted. "This is something Merlynn must do on her own. Where she is going is a place of extreme power; there mustn't be too many people. It could be dangerous."

Lancelot let out a sigh and ran his fingers through is hair. "Is there any way we can help her, any way at all? I hate that she's doing this alone."

"As do I, Lancelot," he replied. "There is one thing. Gwaine, I'm sorry but we have reason to believe that Eira is a betrayer of Camelot, and has been liaising with Morgana."

His brows furrowed, and he saw anger cross the knight's face. "What proof do you have? Huh?" he almost spat.

Gaius ignored the bout of rage and spoke calmly, "She is close to you, and you are close to Merlynn. She's been around you during sensitive conversations no doubt, or you've trusted her enough to tell her. The only person she's close to is you. Morgana ambushed Merlynn at the caves when she tried to regain her magic - you were with Merlynn during that time." Gwaine remained stoic, and his hands started shaking, though the anger was not directed at them. "I'm so sorry, Gwaine."

"What do we do about her?" Gwen asked, her lip furling in a snarl. She was a mother (albeit a new mother) but she was a protective person at heart. To know her friends were in danger because of another made something awful churn within her.

"I have orders from the queen to send her to the dungeons until she returns," he said. "Which you'll rule out, Gwen. But first, we need to give her false information. We need to lead her in the opposite direction to give them the best fighting chance."

And then they planned.

[][][][][][]

Gwaine was so angry. So, so angry he could barely contain it. He was rarely an angry person; he got jealous, he got annoyed, but never this angry before. He felt it burn through his skin and shake his bones and he had to grit his teeth from damaging something.

He couldn't believe it. The one, true happiness he had in what seemed like forever, was all a lie. A trap; he was just a tool for information. He thought he could love Eira. Gwaine really did think he could grow to love her; the first time he saw her it was like he'd seen sunshine for the first time. She was so beautiful and kind and shy, and such a good kisser, too. He truly cared about her; someone so different from Merlynn, someone he was sure could help him move on completely from her.

And she using him.

His hands shook as Eira came to his chambers, touched his waist like she loved him. What a fool he was.

"Hey," she said in her soft voice, nuzzling against his shoulder blade. He felt a tear slip down his cheek. "What is it?" Gwaine turned to face her, tried to smile but couldn't lift his mouth. "Tell me."

"Can't," he bit out. He sounded like such a child; on the edge of tears, right after a scrape, whimpering for his mother to tend to him.

"Why not?" she sounded a little put off. Good. "Is it the king and the queen? What's happened to them?" He only shook his head. Gwaine saw something flash in her eyes, and he felt a smile fight at his lips. "Is he dead?"

"No," he replied.

"How do you know? Where is he? Gwaine? Don't you trust me?" she pouted. Those doe eyes he thought he knew widened, and if he was non-the-wiser he would have spilled all his secrets. But he knew now, and he would ruin her.

"I do."

"Then tell me," she begged.

So he did.

[][][][][][]

Merlynn was so grateful that Gaius had brought along an extra horse for her. The mere thought of the walk she would have to endure made her shutter. She was wary of this unnamed horse that she had to ride (as Arthur took Firefoot), though he was strong and sturdy and was aware of danger.

He snorted at the same time she noticed the two men galloping their way.

"Saxons," she alerted Arthur. Merlynn dismounted, and untied the blanket from the back of her saddle before tossing it over Arthur. "I'll deal with them, okay? Keep your head down and do not speak."

He nodded and grabbed at the blanket, pulling it a little bit closer to his face as the Saxons approached them. Merlynn glanced at the valley of trees beneath the mountain and used her magic to make billows of smoke rise above the trees.

She ran to the men, faux tears in her eyes. "Please, sirs! Please help us," she sobbed. "We were ambushed."

They dismounted. They were much taller than her, broader, but she had Excalibur hidden on Arthur's side and magic at her fingertips. She could end them, easy.

"By who?" one of them asked, glancing at his friend.

"A man, and a woman," she sputtered.

"What did they look like?" the other asked.

Merlynn ran her fingers through her hair, touched her face, glad for her dirty appearance. "The man was...a knight, the woman was in a gown," she shrugged. "They stormed our camp and threatened to kill us!" She pointed at the smoke.

They barely glanced at it, instead coming toward her. The tallest stood too close to her; she saw the threat in his eyes, but didn't flinched. "You're sure it was a Camelot knight?" his eyebrow rose high, and he grinned a terrible, sarcastic smile.

"Yes."

He tore the blanket off Arthur, and they both raised their swords. They had no time to react. Merlynn pushed them off the mountain with a raise of her hands; they would either die on the way down, or bleed to death at the bottom.

She hated the rush she felt.

"I'll never get used to that," she heard Arthur mutter.

Merlynn went to him, re-arranging the blanket around his shoulder and smiling sadly. "Me neither."

[][][][][][]

Gwaine followed Eira the entire day after telling her the false information. He was rather proud of his stealth, watching her go about her day as if she were just a normal village girl who'd lost her parents.

But she wasn't. She was evil, scum of the earth, who thrived off the pain of others and Gwaine was so upset for believing she was in love with him.

When night fell, she retrieved a basket from a hidden alcove and carried it to a (seemingly) abandoned hallway. On the way, Gwaine had asked for a guard to give the meeting place to Gwen, so the ambush of their own would go as planned.

He watched her pull a crow out of the blanket, tie a note around its leg and toss it out the window. As it flew away, Gwaine finally revealed himself to her.

"Eira," he said, and he could hear the malice he tried so hard to hide.

She jumped and turned, her skin immediately paling. "I was just..." she stammered.

"Sending word to Morgana?" he asked, and he saw her flinch at his tone.

"No!"

Gwen reached the hallway, her usually sweet features hard. As ongoing adviser to the queen, she had learned the facial expressions and the ways to act when faced with a terrible decision. It had happened before. He was proud of her.

Eira let out a yelp, eyes filling with tears. "Gwen - my lady! I wouldn't do that, I wouldn't betray the king or queen. I swear it!"

She cocked her head, and let out a small laugh, "And you didn't, you can go to your death safe with that knowledge. Your note will send Morgana riding for Brineved while our king and queen will be travelling in the opposite direction. Guards!"

The two men came in and grabbed at her arms tight, and began pulling her from the room.

She was shrieking, "Gwaine! Please, Gwaine, you know -"

He held up an arm. It became too silent, except for the shaky, fearful breaths of Eira. He took her chin and gripped it so hard she flinched. "You will die, and I will be sad at first, but then it'll pass and I'll relish in your death. You do not come into this kingdom and betray my queen, do you understand me?" he growled.

Eira looked terrified, and he was glad.

[][][][][][]

It was a struggle getting Arthur to eat. Even more so than usual. Though instead of his grabby hands and distracting kisses, it was gasps of pain and the grit of his teeth.

"This will be good for you," she muttered, trying to spoon the oats into his mouth. "Please, Arthur, just eat through the pain. You need it. You need your strength."

He looked at her for a long moment, an expression on his face that made her both very confused and uncomfortable. "Have you eaten?"

"No, I'm not hungry. But you are," she tried to laugh. "So eat up, you clotpole."

"Oh, an old insult. How fitting," he rolled his eyes. Arthur leaned back against the tree she'd propped him against, and looked at her again. "Why did you put up with me with all these years?"

"Because I love you," she said simply. Merlynn finally managed to get some of the gloopy, cold-ish oats into his mouth, grinning a little as he swallowed it.

"No, but really. You were my servant for so long, and I did terrible things to you, and you still stuck by me. Why?" he asked, and seemed desperate for the reply.

She sat back on her heels. "It's my destiny, and it's been my destiny since the day we met."

"You mean when I tried to take your head off with a mace?" he snorted.

"And I stopped you, using magic," she admitted.

Arthur gaped at her. "You cheated!"

"You were going to kill me," she shrugged.

He shook his head, a little smile on his face. "I should've."

"Even without my magic, I still could've taken you on. Granted it would've made the process longer, but I could've won." He chuckled. "I protect you because of who you are, and before that, who you were going to be. Kilgharrah taught me a very long time ago that without you, Camelot's nothing, and I learned that."

Arthur stopped smiling, and began fiddling with her fingers, interlocking them with his own. "There was a time when that was true," he said, and his voice was so sad. "Now there's so many people who can fill the position."

She took his jaw in her free hand, made him look at her. "There's never going to be anyone like you, Arthur. I didn't like you at all when I met you, in fact I hated you for a long time - even when I saved you from that knife. But I grew to know you, truly know you, as a kind and honorable and deserving man. You are my husband, and my best friend, and you are the only person who belongs on the throne, and I never want to lose you."

He kissed her until she tasted tears.

[][][][][][]

Gwaine couldn't go to Merlynn and have her hold him and tell him it was going to be alright. He couldn't have a drink and a laugh with her, and their friends.

No, she was away and most likely in danger and he had no idea where she'd be and if she was dead - or if his king was dead.

He was restless and vengeful and he just wanted to kill something; Morgana. So he went to Percival, who hated Morgana, and would hate her more once he told him about what had happened to their friends.

"You know what you said you'd do if you ever found Morgana?" he chirped as he reached the giant of a man. Percival grinned. "Well, we've got a good idea where she'll be heading."

Gwaine noticed Mordred close by, looking at him. The young, black-haired boy walked over to them, his brow creased with worry. "What are you two going to do?"

"An ambush of our own," Gwaine said.

"Would you like company?" he asked in his quiet, somber voice.

Percival clasped his shoulder and shook his head, his voice soft, "No, Mordred. This is too dangerous and this is a fight that's between us and Morgana. But do let Merlynn and Arthur know our whereabouts if they do return before we do."

Mordred shared a glance with Gwaine, and he saw dread in the young man's eyes.

It took a only a short amount of time to reach Brineved. He could see Morgana just over the treeline; the High Priestess stood atop a high rock, her Saxons gathered around her like a barrier. She wore a gleeful smile, as if she'd won.

Gwaine grinned in amusement.

"Position lookouts for the King's approach," she ordered. The Saxons scattered into different directions.

He glanced at his comrade, and they planned silently. Percival came up behind one of them, choked him unconscious. Gwaine took out another, stabbing him through the belly. They took out the rest of them as silent as they could; Morgana never noticed them. Gwaine ran ahead after her, crouched low to avoid loud noise. He saw Percival slide behind one of the rocks nearby and stepped on a stick, cracking it in half. Morgana tensed and turned, her shocked expression turning gleeful as she noticed him.

She tortured him and beat him years ago, and killed his friends, people he considered brothers. And she did it with no remorse; she was soulless and worthless. He smiled and wiggled his fingers at her. The signal. Percival leaped out from the rock and slashed into her side, cutting deep and slicing sideways. She let out a roar and flung them both back.

The last thing he saw was Morgana's face, white and ghoulish, smiling back at him. "Did you really think you could outwit me?" she gasped out, cackling as he closed his eyes.

When Gwaine came to, he was tied between two trees. He tugged at his restraints but there was no give. Morgana was smiling at him again, a box in her hands. How long had he been unconscious?

"Tell me where the king is," she hissed.

"I'd rather die," he spat at her feet. She flinched away from him, her lip curled in disgust. As if he were the vermin.

Morgana crouched down in front of him and ran her hand over the box. "Then you will have your wish once you've told me," she crooned. "Not even you can resist the charms of the Nathair."

Percival was shocked awake by the screaming. He was alone, and tied between two trees, but there was screaming and it sounded like Gwaine. He took a deep breath and tugged, and tugged, until the trees began to snap and he felt an immense pressure leave his arms. Once the ropes tore and the trees snapped, he was running. The screaming stopped but Percival never stopped running.

Not until he saw Gwaine, still tied and head low. He crouched by his comrade's side and lifted his face up.

"She's riding for Avalon," Gwaine rasped, and he was crying.

"Gwaine," he breathed.

"I failed. I'm so sorry. Tell Merlynn I'm sorry,"

He shook his head. He felt Gwaine begin to slump in his hands, saw his eyes flutter slowly, and his chest heaved. "No, no you haven't. You did what you could. Please, just stay with me." Gwaine's eyes began to close. "Gwaine! Gwaine!"

Percival felt his best friend die in his arms that day.

[][][][][][]

They stopped for another break.

Merlynn grimaced whenever she had to lift Arthur from Firefoots back; his shouts of pain sent shivers down her spine. But she dragged him off and helped him sit on a tree stump to bring circulation back in his legs, then brought more food and water for him. As she turned, she saw him slump over and groan, his hands brushing the forest floor.

"Arthur, you need to hold on," she said, running over to him. Merlynn helped him back up. "Just one more day." She kissed his cheek and wiped a cloth over his sweaty forehead.

"You've turned into my servant again," he pointed out, accepting the waterskin when she held it up to his mouth.

She smiled. "I always kinda act like your servant," she chuckled, sticking her tongue between her teeth.

"So your destiny was to serve me?" Arthur asked, and he sounded surprised. And a bit delirious. The blood loss and exhaustion and the blade digging toward his heart was making him slur his words. She was sure they'd had this conversation before; perhaps he had forgotten, or he just wanted to hear it again.

"Some people are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great rulers. I was born to serve you, and protect you, and I'm happy with that. And even though I've had some of the most painful experiences, and I've lost more people than I can count on one hand, I wouldn't change it. Any of it. Because I met you, and I love you so much," she felt a few tears escape, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Groggily, he wiped the tears off, pulled her close and nuzzled her face against his shoulder. "I am so grateful to have you in my life, Merlynn," he said. "I love you, too, more than you'll ever know."

[][][][][][]

A day and a half had passed. It was hanging over her head, the time. Arthur's time was finite and reaching its end, and he was feeling it. They both were. He'd almost fallen from Firefoot more than once, so now she walked at his side, a hand on his side to keep him from slipping. Her feet were aching so bad they itched at every step, but they just needed to keep moving no matter what. 'He has two days, at best.' The words kept repeating in her head, every time he almost fell, every time he grimaced or groaned or shouted.

Arthur was so pale now that she could see the blue of his veins running under his skin. His golden tan had disappeared. His eyes were always watery and bloodshot and his mouth was red from his teeth troubling it when he was in pain. It was as though he was a whole new person, and she wasn't ready for his death. Merlynn knew it was coming, she did. She hadn't accepted it - and she never would, even when his body turned to ashes, and a thousand years would pass - but she always knew. His prophecy was to die. And she did not care if she cursed the gods plan, or made them vow to destroy her, she would keep him alive whatever the cost.

She felt his hand on her shoulder slip and fall to her back and then an immense weight fall onto her. "Arthur!" she yelped, turning to help him back up.

"I can't go on," he gasped out, his body trembling. He was gritting his teeth and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Its not that far, Arthur. We need to reach the lake before dawn. Its the only way," she told him, grabbing at the reign of his horse to tug them along.

"No," a sob bit out from his mouth, "no, please Merlynn, no."

Merlynn stopped and looked at him; he turned his face back into Firefoot's mane and groaned again. "Fine," she said, resolute. "We rest for an hour."

She took them under the trees and set up a fire for him. He was dead weight as she tried to remove him from the saddle; his body collapsed on top of her, though she was able to use her magic to stop him. Merlynn carried him to the fire - with a little more help from her powers - and propped him up beside it.

He sighed gratefully. "Thank you," he whispered, clutching her hand and interlocking their fingers.

She smiled. "It's no problem, Arthur," she replied. "As long as we get you to the Lake on time."

Arthur was silent as he stared at the fire; he never stopped playing with her hand, though. She saw fear in his eyes, then tears, and then he glanced at her. "Whatever happens..."

He was going to say goodbye. "No, don't talk," she said and touched his face, dragged her fingers through his hair.

"You'll be a fantastic queen, you know? Even without me," he continued, as if she hadn't said anything. "You've always been so strong, and kind, and just and there's no one I'd rather see on that throne than you. You, and your magic, are the greatest things to ever happen to me and I just want you to know that."

She felt tears in her eyes, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Merlynn had no clue what to say; what reply was there? "I can't live without you," she told him. "I won't live without you. You're not going to die, not if I have anything to say about it."

"If I survive this, when we return home we're going to spend a week in bed, is that clear?" his voice was weak but she heard him chuckle.

"Can we make that two?" she asked. Arthur's head lolled to the side, a little smile on his face, and he fell back against the rock. She heard his snores shortly after. "Get some sleep."

An hour passed, and they were on their journey again. Arthur got weaker as they walked, so weak that three hours later they needed to stop again. She set up another fire for him and let him lay down beside it. He could barely talk, so he only moaned his appreciation and pawed at her side.

She kissed his forehead. "Avalon is just over that hill. We'll get there, and you'll live, alright?" he nodded.

The horses began to buck and kick at the air, and her horse took off into the distance. Firefoot stayed where she was, but she neighed and continued to buck as she raced up to the troubled horse.

"Woah, woah woah," she shushed him, touching her nose, tugging her down by the reigns.

Merlynn felt a crackle of energy before she heard, "Hello, Emrys." She turned, and faced Morgana. She was bleeding, not a mortal wound, but it hurt and she was so happy to see pain on her face.

Morgana lifted her hands the same time she did. Magic went against magic, and she felt a powerful force press against her own. Merlynn was strong, but she was so tired and she'd been walking for so long that her magic just gave up. Her body felt like a doll as she was sent careening back into a tree.

She could hear Morgana laughing. "What a joy it is to see you, Arthur. Look at you, not so tall and mighty now. You may have won the battle, but you've lost the war. You're going to die. But don't worry, my dear brother, I won't let you die alone. I will stay and watch over you, until the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood."

Merlynn was groggy as she got to her feet. She watched Morgana, skinny, ruined Morgana; she was a ghost of who she used to be. She remembered them as friends - they trusted each other and loved each other and had so much respect and care that it made her ache to think of. For years Merlynn thought that good, that purity, was still there and buried under the surface. But there was nothing but evil and hatred and anger. That person had rotted away and sunk into the Earth long ago.

She felt the gold pool in her eyes, stronger than it ever had been, felt the air spike around her. The earth sunk into her skin; the sky turned black over her head.

"No, Morgana," Morgana almost jumped as she turned around, and her eyes widened at the sight of her. "I'm so sorry for what you've become, this evil, snivelling rabid dog - but this has to end."

There was a crackle of thunder.

"You will never defeat me, Emrys," she hissed. "I am a High Priestess."

"And I am the daughter of the earth, the sea and the sky." Merlynn began to shake as magic buzzed through her system and crackled at her fingertips. She saw fear flash in Morgana's eyes. "I am born of magic. I am magic itself, and I will end you, Morgana."

She tried to throw Merlynn back again, perhaps kill her, but she deflected it with ease. "You lied to me for so long, you were supposed to be my friend," she roared.

"I wasn't going to kill you, Morgana! Morgause was always going to come and she was always going to turn off the attack for your life," she defended. "You were never going to die. I was told it was the only way, and Arthur and Camelot are the only things that matter. There was a time where I thought I could've trusted you enough to share my magic, but I was wrong, and you are nothing but darkness."

Merlynn threw Morgana back, heard the crack of her spine as she hit the rock. She slid Excalibur from Arthur's sheath and stood before the High Priestess as she got to her feet.

Her smile was bloody when she laughed, "No mortal blade can kill me. When Arthur's body dies, I'll remove that blade from his cold body and run you through myself."

She let out a laugh of her own, but it was feral and angry. "This is Exalibur, it was the first sword forged in dragon's breath. It can indeed much kill you, and it will. But it cannot kill me; I'm immortal. The gods cursed me with an eternal life, so when the earth dies and rebirths and a thousand years have gone by I will still be here watching. So you can try and try to end Arthur's life, but I will always be by his side destroying people like you for even thinking about it. And if he dies because of you -" she paused, and let out a hiss "- I will come into the Vale myself and tear you to pieces. That's a promise."

Then, as thunder rumbled across the sky and rain began to fall upon them, she ran Morgana through. Merlynn wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close. She watched the light fade from her eyes, felt her body go limp in her arms and she, finally, felt free of her madness.

"Goodbye, Morgana," she whispered.

As she turned, she noticed Arthur staring at Morgana's body. But when he looked up at Merlynn, there was no fear or hatred, but there was relief. "You've brought peace at last," he said.

She was quick as she helped him back onto Firefoot's back, ignoring Morgana's blood on her hands or the body by her feet. Merlynn gripped the reigns in her hands and ran to the Lake of Avalon. Arthur groaned at every jolt of Firefoot's trotting, but it would be worth it if he just stayed alive.

By the time they reached the Lake, the sky was a myriad of oranges and blues and it was so beautiful it hurt. Sunrise was almost reaching its peak and they needed to be across the river before it was over. She lugged his body across the dirt and onto the small boat she found at the water's edge. Merlynn used her magic to take the boat across the river and held Arthur's dying body in her arms.

"Merlynn... Merlynn," he rasped, voice like molasses, slow and heavy. "If I don't make this trip, if whatever's on the other side of the lake cannot save me, I just wanted to say that I'm so sorry."

"For what? Arthur, you have nothing to be sorry for," she shushed him, wiping the sweat off his brow, the tears on his cheeks.

"No, no, no, I do. I really do. I treated you terribly. I never believed in you, I drove you away, I made you feel hated and stupid and unloved. I'm so sorry for being such a horrible person to you," he said, and she pressed her head against his shoulder from behind. "I do not deserve you but I thank the gods every day that they gave you to me."

"Arthur, shut your dumb clotpole mouth," she sighed. "The Sidhe will save you, I know it. We'll get through this."

In the middle of the Lake was a small island. A broken castle reached the edges, some parts of the wall cracked and rotted and floating in the water around it. She removed Arthur from the boat and dragged him up the path into the castle. There was no roof, only the morning sky staring back at her.

"Sidhe!" she called into the empty space. "Please, I need your help."

Little blue lights lifted up from the ground and buzzed around their heads. She helped Arthur onto a cement slab as they began to form into corporeal beings. She remembered these creatures; some were so wicked, and hated the kingdom of Camelot, she knew that. But she would give them a sacrifice and she would bargain as best she could with them.

One, taller than the rest, stepped forward. His face was so sharp and angled that he looked cruel, and when he smiled it stretched his skin so far she saw the bones move under his blue skin. A leader.

"Emrys," he crooned, tilting his head to the side. "You have brought the king of Camelot to me? Whatever for?"

"I ask of you to save his life," she implored.

The Sidhe around them laughed for a very long time before the island became silent once again. "Save Arthur Pendragon's life? The son of the man who destroyed magic kind?"

"Yes," she said. "He's accepted magic, and before this battle we were writing a law to free magic and their kind forever. This includes you. I promise you if you save his life you'll no longer be trapped and scared and in hiding, but you'll be free to live as you once were. Free."

The leader glanced at another Sidhe, a feminine looking fae, and they seemed to be in silent conversation for a long while. The group of fae began to murmur.

"You know that magic comes with a price?" he asked.

She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled from her chest. "My name is Emrys," she replied. "Of course I know this."

Merlynn was sure he smiled at her. "Fine, Emrys, Queen of Camelot and Daughter of the Earth, you have your wish. Name your sacrifice."

"Eira," she growled. "Kill her any way you want. Torture her, or eat her, do whatever you please, I don't care. You will not be persecuted for her death, I promise you that as well."

"My my," he sounded surprised. "This woman must have done a terrible thing."

She nodded. "A crime that is worthy of this punishment."

The leader ushered her away and the Sidhe crowded around Arthur's body. The last thing she saw was his blue eyes staring back at her before a golden light burst through the island.

She ducked to the floor as a huge gush of power and air washed over her, and she didn't get back up until the light faded. When she looked to the sky, it was blue and sunshine and she prayed that the Sidhe had healed his body. The fae people dispersed and backed away from the slab so she could push her way through. Arthur's body almost made her cry. He was golden again, his face brighter (though still unconscious) and he was breathing a little steadier.

The Sidhe leader held the broken, bloody blade in his hands, and he offered it to her. She smiled, and slung it in one of the loopholes of her trousers. "Thank you so much. You have made an ally with Camelot," she told him.

"That is something I never expected to hear," he replied. "He will live. It will take a few days for him to awaken, but he will survive this."

"Again, thank you," she felt like weeping, but she knew she had to be strong. She was queen, and she was Emrys, and she did not want to be weak in front of the Sidhe people.

They helped her carry Arthur's body back into the boat, and they smiled as she pushed the boat back along the Lake of Avalon to the shore. When she reached the shore, and Arthur's body was safe on the sand, only then did she cry. She buried her face in his chest and wept, and wept, and wept, until her chest heaved and she felt her throat hurt from her sobs.

Once the tears dried, she called for Kilgharrah. He landed, and looked sad as he saw her tears.

"I am so sorry, Merlynn," the great dragon said, leaning down to nuzzle his jaw to her face.

She laughed at him and pushed his snout away playfully. "No, he's alive. Arthur's alive, I did it!" she cried.

He took a step away from her, and he looked shocked. "How is that possible?"

"I - I don't know but I went to the Sidhe and I sacrificed the person who betrayed us to Morgana. He's alive, Kilgharrah," she felt so happy she could scream.

"You denied the prophecy?" he asked.

"I guess so," she shrugged.

Kilgharrah sounded grave when he spoke, "There is no telling what the gods have planned. Perhaps this was written in stone already, or perhaps you completely changed the course of Albion, we do not know. That scares me."

She suddenly felt afraid. If she did change the fate of Arthur, and Albion, and herself, then there was no telling what would happen next. But, right then, she did not care. She had Arthur by her side, alive, for any period of time, and she would use that opportunity to love and live for as long as possible.

"I don't know what's ahead of us either, but right now that's not of my concern," she declared. "I'd like to get back to my people. Which is why I called you."

He rolled his golden eyes at her, bared his teeth. "It appears I've turned into your steed," he bit out, but crouched low regardless. Kilgharrah used his claws to lift Arthur onto his back while she climbed, and then locked Firefoot in his feet and lifted up into the sky.

By the time they reached Camelot it was near dark and she could see lanterns lifting into the sky above the citadel.

"They're praying for you," Kilgharrah said, his golden scales gleaming under the lights.

"These people deserve so much more," she whispered, and felt tears fill her eyes once again. "I'm crying too much today."

The dragon laughed and she felt it rumble through the earth. "It's been a trying day, young witch. Go, return to your kingdom. Call for me if you need me."

"I will," she promised. "Thank you, Kilgharrah, for everything."

He bowed his head and flew off.

Merlynn mounted the horse behind Arthur and wrapped herself around him. She propped him up with her body, and nudged for Firefoot to walk the distance toward Camelot.

She was so excited to see her friends, to sleep in her bed and wake up with Arthur by her side. To have things go back to the way they were. Merlynn touched Excalibur, tied to Firefoot's saddle, and let out a deep breath. She was free of Morgana, and free of the fear of her own magic.

The guards at the gate noticed them first. Arthur, unconscious and wrapped in gauze and her, bloody and dirty and close to sliding off the horse from exhaustion. They shouted for Gaius and for the knights.

It all went black as she felt someone lift her off the saddle and heard the guards shouting for them to be carried to Gaius' chambers.

[][][][][][]

She awoke in her own chambers, alone.

Merlynn tossed the blankets off her body and ignored the grogginess in her system. She dressed as quick as she could, only managing to get her trousers halfway up her legs before the door opened.

"Merlynn?" Gwen. She whirled around and saw her friend with breakfast in hand, tears in her eyes. "My god, Merlynn."

Gwen set the tray down and wrapped her arms tight around her. Merlynn slumped in her arms, drew her in and buried her face in the other woman's neck. She was so warm and soft and she, too, was alive. They were safe. Everyone was safe.

"Thank god you're okay," Gwen breathed. "You've been asleep for three days, we feared the exhaustion was too much for you."

"I'm always okay," she laughed. She could smell the chicken broth on the tray and her stomach released an embarrassingly loud gurgle. "And always hungry, too, apparently."

"Eat, please. I'm sure you didn't eat the entire journey, and long before that." Gwen gave her a pointed, disappointed look, as she shrugged. "Merlynn, honestly. You may be a witch but that does not mean you shouldn't eat."

"I know, I know, thank you mother," Merlynn grinned, and sat down to eat her breakfast. She was silent as she ate, except for a few moans as food filled her belly for the first time in days.

"So, what happened?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Morgana's finally dead," she said, and she saw Gwen flinch a little. "I ended her life, before she got the chance to kill Arthur. I watched her die, Gwen. I held her in her arms and watched her die."

She took Merlynn's hand. "You did us a blessing, Merlynn. She needed to be stopped," she soothed, rubbing her thumb over her hand.

"I know. I know she did," she nodded. "Is Eira still alive?"

"No," Gwen winced. "The guards reported screaming coming from her cell, and by the time I got there her skin was rotting and she was falling apart. And then she disappeared. I figured that was your doing so I didn't let the guards touch her."

"Yes, she was the sacrifice for Arthur's life. I told the Sidhe to do whatever they pleased to her, and I guess they did," she rubbed her face and felt like sleeping again. "How was Gwaine?"

Gwen paused, and when Merlynn looked at her she looked wary. "We...don't know, Merlynn. He left with Percival and we haven't had word of them since."

"What?" she asked. "Where did they go?"

"Mordred said that they were planning to ambush Morgana at Brineved." Merlynn got to her feet. "No, you are too weak, and Mordred has already lead a party out for them. They'll be fine."

She sat back in her chair, and buried her face in her arms. "I don't know what I'd do without Gwaine or Percival. Especially Gwaine. He's been by my side for too long, he's one of my best friends. I can't lose him."

"You won't," Gwen said, kissing her on the head. She drew her into a motherly embrace. "They'll return and you can beat them into oblivion for worrying you, and everything will go back to how it used to be. When we were all happy." Merlynn nodded, satisfied with her friend's hopeful smile, and asked to see Arthur. "He's resting in Gaius' chambers. Though the Sidhe healed him, he wanted to look over him for a few days."

"I'd like to see him."

"You need a bath first, and a good brush down," she laughed. "I'll draw you a bath."

Once she was clean and dressed in a gown that made her feel like she was floating on a soft, silky river, she went to the physician's chambers. She smiled and greeted those she walked past, who asked if she was healthy, and touched her on the hand. Gaius looked up as she finally entered, and then she was wrapped in his arms and she heard him breathe deep against her shoulder.

"Thank goodness," he mumbled. "Arthur's upstairs, in your old room. He's resting."

"Of course," she said with a bright smile. "How's he doing?"

"Amazing. A miraculous recovery. The Sidhe did a wonderful job," he admitted, removing his glasses and cleaning them.

"Good. It's good to see you, Gaius."

He smiled. "It's good to see you, too. Happy, and alive. I feared you'd sacrifice yourself for him in the end."

"No," she snorted, as she walked up the short stairs to her old chambers, "Eira was always going to die."

Arthur was still asleep when she reached the bed, and sat at his side. His face was bright and healthy, and he once again reminded her of the sun. So golden. She kissed his cheek and laid beside him until the room began to darken as the day went by.

He stirred a few hours later, his body jerking and then going limp, moving closer to her warmth and linking his arm over her waist. When his eyes opened, and he saw her against him, he smiled the widest she'd seen since before the battle and kissed her full on the mouth.

"I don't know what you did, you wonderful woman, but you saved my life," he drew her close, forcing her leg over his hip.

She rolled her eyes. "When am I not saving your life?" she asked.

He pretended to think for a moment, and he said, "When we're in bed. Which, I do recall, we promised to stay in for a week - or was it two?"

Merlynn bit back a smile. "Two," she admitted.

"Good. After I'm fit enough to return to our bed, we'll be staying in there for two glorious weeks. And, to be frank, I'm not going to let you leave until those weeks are up." He took her hip tightly in his hand and pressed his mouth to hers again.

She felt heat spark in her belly, and she moaned; he smirked against her lips, pressed a little harder against her. Merlynn pushed him back with a sharp intake. "You can't do that, cheeky. Not here," she muttered. "Gaius is right outside."

"It could be interesting," he tried to persuade, moving his kisses down to her collarbone where he bit down hard.

"No, no, no, don't. He's like my father, he'll kill you. Remember that talk he had with us? I don't want that again, and I know you don't either." At her words, he pulled back immediately. "Good. Once we get back to our chambers, however, is another matter entirely."

He grinned, and kissed her quick on the forehead. "I can't wait," he said.

[][][][][][]

It was night when Gaius finally let Arthur leave his care. Despite Arthur still being weak from the injury, she was surprised at how fast the man could run as they raced back to their chambers. Once they were inside, Arthur was tossing her against the bed and kissing her hard. His hands tangled in her hair, ran down her chest, pressed against where she was warm and wet and kissed her again.

They spent hours in that bed. Learning the planes of their skin and the new scars they'd received.

Night turned to early morning, and Merlynn was exhausted when they finally lay away from each other. "I think that's the most we've had sex in a day," she mused with a little laugh.

Arthur, breathing just as heavily as she, grinned. "In a few days we'll break that record," he said, palming her bare stomach.

"Merlynn!" they heard down the hall.

He groaned. "Oh, what is it?"

But Merlynn was already up, pulling trousers and a tunic on her body, and opening the door just as Lancelot reached it. "What is it?"

"It's Mordred," he gasped out. "They're back. But -"

She was running down the hall and out of the castle before he could let out another word. She saw Mordred, tired but unharmed, and Percival, bleeding from his wrists and a grave expression on his face. Merlynn ran at Percival first, encasing his waist in her arms.

"Gods, you idiot - don't ever do anything like that again!" she snapped, whacking him on the bicep. She pulled back and looked at his wrists. "What did she do to you?"

"Tied us up, tried to get information," he admitted, his voice remarkably quiet.

"Where's Gwaine?" she asked.

He didn't answer. All he did was turn and point at the back of one of the horses where a body lay slumped over. She glanced at Percival, and saw him shake his head.

"I'm sorry, Merlynn. She..." he could not say anymore, and she didn't want to hear it.

"No," she whispered and went to his body, her legs weak. "No, no." Guards came to them with a gurney (sp?) to cart his body to Gaius. As his body was lifted up onto it, she ordered the guards to stop and kneeled beside him. She could feel the sky darkening above her, heard the worried murmurs of the people, but she didn't care.

Let them know.

All she knew was Gwaine, who looked out for her and protected her and made her feel loved was gone. She gripped his chain-mail and cried out into his chest.

There was no heartbeat; she may as well be crying on a slab of concrete.

"No, Gwaine. Please, don't be dead," she sobbed. "Please, you idiot. Why did you do that? You promised to come back to us. You swore, and you lied."

Arms lifted her up and she felt magic curl around her, calming her. Mordred's words echoed in her ear, asking her to breathe and call off the storm that was now very loud and very angry over their heads. She took a few deep breaths and tried to calm her rage and her anguish. Merlynn heard the storm fade away, and the people talk louder, confused about the sudden weather change.

And she had nothing to say to them. She had no excuse; there was no excuse.

Mordred held her closer and she could smell the earth on his skin. It was comforting to feel his magic wrap around hers and subdue it, if only for a moment, to keep her from doing something terrible. She wanted to kill Morgana again. She wanted to bring her back from the Veil and rip her apart, piece by piece, watch the skin tear from muscle and listen to her scream.

"I'm so sorry, Merlynn," she heard Percival say. "I tried to keep him alive, but the torture she put him through was too much."

Merlynn let out a shaky breath and turned to him. "Morgana's dead now, so he didn't die in vain," she told them. She felt Mordred tense; only for a moment, like Gwen had. Percival looked satisfied, and she was glad to not see a hint of remorse on his face.

She went to Gwaine's side again, and pressed her mouth to his forehead. "I'm so sorry, my friend. I couldn't save you," she whispered into his skin.

"What's the meaning of this?" Arthur bellowed from the stairs. He was racing down them, tunic barely covering his torso, pants loose. In any other situation the sight would've made her laugh.

He saw her, and then Gwaine by her side. Like she, his body seemed to pause. He slowly shook his head, as though he couldn't believe it. Then he was beside her and his hand was on Gwaine's head.

"You did us proud, Gwaine," he said. Merlynn felt his other arm wrap tight around her waist. "Thank you for staying by our side for all these years." He turned away from his body and brought her with him, pushing her face into his neck. "Are you alright?"

"No," she mumbled. "We need to give him a proper ceremony. One he deserves."

"And we will," he promised.

"I can't believe he's gone."

Arthur tugged her head back and she saw his eyes soften at her tears. "Neither can I. He was a good friend." He glanced back at the guards, and the people, who watched their king and queen mourn over their lost friend. She heard him say something, but it was merely background noise as she looked at Gwaine.

Merlynn waited for him to leap up and laughat his own (terrible) joke and she would hit him and he'd coerce her into a hug not two minutes later because she never could stay mad at him.

She waited for a long time.

It was all a blur after that. She barely remembered what happened after until she was sitting in a warm bath and Arthur was pressed against her back.

He must've heard her intake of breath, because he said, "I wondered when you'd finally come to. You were in a daze."

"For how long?"

"A couple of hours," he admitted, and she glanced back to see him give her a sheepish smile. "You weren't leaving that head of yours anytime soon. I asked for the ceremony to begin at sunrise."

She leaned into her husband and breathed deeply; the steam from the bath cleared her senses. It felt so good to breathe. "I... I don't know what I'm going to do without him, Arthur," she inhaled again, heard it catch in her throat. "He was my best friend. He is my best friend. I didn't spend enough time with him over the past few months, or years really. I was always so busy trying to save Camelot that I rarely got to spend time with the people I care about and now he's gone."

"Hey, hey," he shushed, mouthing the back of her shoulder, drawing her in closer. The movement alone settled her, if only a little bit. "He knew you cared about him, he knew everyone cared about him. Eventually he found out why you were so distant, and he understood immediately. Which was a far better reaction than what I gave you. He was a great man."

"He was," she sighed. "I hate her, Arthur. She's dead, and I still hate her."

Merlynn felt him nod. "As do I. The thought of her dead once made me sad, but now that she is I'm glad she's gone. She was my sister, but she turned into some monster that I never want in my bloodline." He took her by the waist and turned her in the water so she sat across from him; she saw a small, fond smile on his face. "Please tell me our children won't turn out so mad?"

"Gods, I hope not," she rolled her eyes. Though, she was glad for the spark of humor. She needed it. "I'll send them off to the Druids and purify them."

He smacked her on the stomach. Then paused, and furrowed his brow. "Do you reckon our children will be magical, like you?"

"There's a possibility," she answered honestly. "I'd like to think so. Mother dearest sure had fun with me as a kid, levitating whatever I could and blooming flowers all over the place. I still don't know if I can even have children. Can someone born of the Earth have children?"

Arthur shrugged. "We have time to figure that out," he said, leaning forward to kiss her. "But first, we eat and sleep, because we have to be rested to send our dear friend off."

[][][][][][]

The ceremony was beautiful.

Awful, of course, but still beautiful. Gwaine would've loved it - he would call it something fit for a King. And it was. Arthur made sure that it was a ceremony designed for someone royal.

Merlynn cried through the entire thing. She stood at Lancelot and Gwen's side, while Arthur stood at the head of the group and said what needed to be said. She could feel Mordred comforting her through their bond, though she felt his sadness. They made eye contact once, and she saw tears in his eyes.

All of the knights were in similar states. None as bad as Percival; the poor man looked nothing more than a small child, leaning against Leon's side and shaking terribly.

Later that night, as the knights drank their sorrows and prayed to the gods for Gwaine to have a safe journey into the afterlife, Merlynn and Percival sat at a table together. They were the closest to him, sans Arthur, who sat by his men and prayed with them.

"It's weird," Percival said after moments of silence.

"I know. Being in a tavern without him," she agreed. "It's not right."

"It's so quiet," he laughed. "And the tavern's bill isn't quite so high anymore, I'm sure of it."

Merlynn laughed with him. "I'm sure every whore in Camelot is weeping over the loss of their favourite customer."

His face darkened. "I'm glad that Eira girl got what she deserved. He was finally happy, you know? With her. He didn't shut up about her. He was finally, properly, moving on from -" he didn't say her name but she nodded regardless "- and she just destroyed him. Women are ridiculous."

"We are," she replied. "He looked so smitten by her. It made me more angry when I figured it all out. Apparently she rotted and burned in her cell, screaming."

"Good," he sniffed.

"And Morgana died in my arms." Percival glanced at her, curious. "I never even got to say goodbye to him."

He put a meaty hand on her shoulder. "He wanted to say that he was sorry, as he was dying." She twitched her nose, and felt more tears, but she held it back as best she could. "But he tried. She tortured your location right out of him."

"I don't blame him. He did what he could, and he had nothing to be sorry for," she said.

"I know."

They sat in silence for the rest of the night.

ok that is the end of it so far. yes yes I know I kept Gwaine dead. I'm very sorry.

Please review!