Author's Note: Hello to all! Here is the new story in The Trust of a King story arc. For all my followers welcome back and to anyone who is reading my stories for the first time I would highly recommend reading The Trust of a King and Aftershocks as they are the two prequels to this story. There are also some minor little stories you can read that might explain some jokes and conversations, but those are not required. Some of you have asked if this will be a trilogy and I have not decided upon that yet. Part me wants to end it after this story, but a larger part of me wants to keep going within this particular arc for as long as people will read it. Anyways, updating on this story may be off and on due to my school schedule and the hectic clean up after Hurricane Sandy so please bear with me. I don't have to be back at work until Monday even though the subways opened yesterday so I might get a few chapters done, but there is so much work to be done that I don't know. And don't even get me started on this frakking marathon and stupid Mayor Bloomberg….GAH! As usual please READ AND REVIEW!

"Guinevere," Arthur called, striding into their shared chambers with a large, silly grin on his face. "Gwen, where are you?"

Arthur received no answer and his smile widened. The king of Camelot had only recently been freed from the sleepy, dulcet tones of Geoffrey of Monmouth who had given him a rather in depth history of his ancestors in such a way that Arthur had to continuously pinch himself to stay awake. His wife, who had been called away on 'business' halfway through the lesson, had whispered promises that sent desire tingling through his body and had instructed Arthur to find her once the meeting was done.

And find her he would. It had been too long since the two of them had a day to themselves and Arthur was willing to do whatever it took to ensure his time with his wife was uninterrupted.

"Gwen," Arthur called again. "Come on out, Gwen."

No answer, but Arthur heard the soft rustle of fabric and a small, mischievous laugh from somewhere in the hallway behind him. He turned and sprinted out the door of his chamber just in time to see the bottom of Gwen's dress disappear around the corner.

"Oh, it's a chase you want," Arthur yelled after her, laughing. "Well, it is a chase you shall receive, my lady."

He took off after her and rounded the corner, expecting to see the back of his wife as she dashed away from him, but finding Merlin instead. The young man's face was solemn and his eyes were filled with pity. He held out a hand to his king as if to stop him.

"Don't," Merlin said softly. "Don't go after her, Arthur."

"What the hell are you talking about, Merlin?"

"Gwen," Merlin replied. "She's lying to you, sire."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur scoffed, pushing past his old servant. "Honestly, Merlin sometimes I wonder what goes—Merlin?"

The young man had suddenly disappeared as if he'd never been there. Arthur looked around the hallway for some sign of his friend's presence, but found nothing. The king rolled his eyes.

"Warlocks," he muttered in annoyance, continuing down the hallway in search of his playful Guinevere.

Arthur soon realized, as he had many times before, that the problem with searching for anyone within a castle was that there were so many places for one to hide. The sheer size of the grounds would be daunting enough, but add in the various secret passages, shadowed nooks, and a never ending amount of doors in which one could escape through and the task went from daunting to near impossible.

"Gwen," Arthur huffed out after nearly thirty minutes of searching. "This is getting old real quick! Just come on out, would you?"

The king received no answer and he sighed. He wanted to ask one of the servants if they might have seen which direction she had headed off in, but there was no one around. In fact, Arthur realized that he had not seen a single soul in the castle hallways other than Merlin since he had left his throne room. Where the hell was everybody?

For reasons unknown to him, Arthur felt a thread of fear and unease enter his belly. He recalled Merlin's sorrowed eyes and his heart began to beat fiercely against his chest. Suddenly, his self-control snapped and he found himself sprinting down the hall, yelling and shouting for somebody to answer him.

Oh, how idiotic he would feel if his paranoia turned out to be nothing. He had never been a jumpy man and had faced horrors without so much as a tremor more times than he could count. Yet, somehow, the thought of being alone in his castle terrified him.

"Hello," he shouted. "Someone answer me, dammit! Merlin? Gwen? Please, I—"

"Arthur," Gwen said from behind him.

Arthur whirled around at the sound of his wife's voice and he nearly cried at the sight of her. She stood at the end of the passageway, her hands clasped calmly in front of her, staring at him as if he'd gone mad. For a moment there, he had.

"Gwen," he said, forcing himself to walk calmly to her side. "Where have you been? I was worried. You wouldn't answer me."

"We were waiting for you," Gwen replied softly.

"We? Who is we?"

Gwen smiled at him and stood on her tiptoes so that she could whisper in to his ear. Arthur shivered as her lips touched his skin and he grasped her shoulders to pull her close.

"Come and see," she said, pulling away from him. "Come and see, Arthur."

"Gwen, can't we just—"

"Come and see, my king."

Arthur frowned at her words, but allowed her to take his hand and lead him to wherever 'we' was waiting. She pulled him around corners, down halls, up stairs and down again, never saying a word even when he asked her about their destination.

"What is wrong with you?" Arthur asked for the fourth time. "You are acting strangely, Guinevere. Did Merlin put you up to this? Because if he did I will string him up for being a public nuisance."

"Hush," Gwen whispered, stopping long enough to look back at him adoringly. "It won't be long now."

Arthur rolled his eyes and vowed that if his idiotic warlock were behind this ridiculousness Arthur would see to it that he regretted it, though he still had yet to discover a punishment Merlin could not magic his way out of.

Gwen finally stopped them at the door to the armory and turned to face Arthur with a smile, lifting a small finger and placing it to her lips. Arthur grinned and tried to pull her in for a kiss, but she shook her head. The king pulled back in surprise and quirked his head in confusion. What was she playing at?

As if in reply to his unspoken question, Guinevere opened the armory door and pushed him inside. The high windows in stonewalls of the room were built to optimize sunlight, but for some strange reason no sun blinked through the thin slats. Arthur's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness and as they did he felt Gwen slip by and around him.

"Gwen," Arthur said uncertainly, watching as his wife took the hand of a shadowy figure in the dark. "What is going on?"

"I have a surprise," Gwen whispered, reaching out her other hand to him.

He took it and stepped closer to her and, as his eyes adjusted fully, he realized who the shadowed figure was. Disbelief and pain slammed into his chest like a lead weight and he bent over as if punched in the gut.

"No," he rasped out, staring up at the figure in horror. "No, you are dead! You're dead! I saw it!"

"Could a dead man do this?" Lancelot asked, his lips stretching over his lips in a morbid parody of a grin.

The once loyal knight turned to Gwen and tenderly placed his palm on her cheek, pulling her close with a hand around her waist. His wife's hand slipped from his as she angled her body to meet Lancelot's. He cupped her throat and lifted it so that her lips could entangle with his with ease. The seconds their lips touched Arthur felt something wrench loose inside him and he groaned.

Lancelot kissed her with all the passion of a dying man and when they finally parted both were breathing heavily. Gwen smiled down at her husband and touched his face, her fingers trailing over his cheeks and across his lips.

"I settled for you," she said, leaning down to whisper in his ear once more. "I never loved you like I loved him. You passed the time until Lancelot returned to me."

"No," Arthur groaned. "No, please, Gwen—"

"Can I kill him now," Lancelot asked, pulling a dagger from his belt. "Then we can truly be together, Guinevere. Just like we always wanted."

"Make it quick," Gwen yawned. "I'm tired of looking at his face every morning. Honestly, it was enough to make me sick."

"You don't mean that," Arthur shouted as Lancelot stepped towards him. "Gwen, say you don't mean that! Please!"

Gwen merely looked away from him and Arthur broke inside. Fury and hatred surged through him and he screamed, pulling his sword from his scabbard. Lancelot had just enough time to widen his eyes before his head was swept from his shoulders by the stroke of Arthur's blade.

Gwen screamed and collapsed at her fallen lover's side, clutching at his tunic even as his head rolled away from them. Arthur advanced on her, mindless with pain and betrayal, lifting his sword to strike her down.

"Do it," she screamed at him. "Kill me to! I would rather die a thousand deaths then ever touch you again."

Arthur felt his lips stretch into a horrific grin and watched as his shaking hands dropped the sword to the stones. He looked at his fingers with a sort of detached glee and flexed them tight, imagining Gwen's slender throat between them.

"Arthur," Gwen shrieked as he fell upon her. "Arthur—stop! Don't!"

Arthur laughed as his hands found her throat and squeezed, cutting off her air. She struggled beneath him and he relished in the strength of her terror like a madman relished in the hunt of his victims.

"Arthur," Gwen gasped. "Wake up…Arthur…wake…"

"Don't talk to me," Arthur shouted, shaking her. "Don't you—I'll kill you!"

Arthur wasn't sure when he felt Gwen's bones snap beneath his hands, but suddenly her struggles ceased and she collapsed against the floor. Arthur stared at her for a long time and the enormity of what he had done began to sink into him.

"Gwen," he said softly, brushing her hair back from her face. "Oh, Gwen, why did you make me hurt you? I loved you, don't you know that? I loved you and you made me do this. You made me hurt you."

Arthur heard footsteps behind him and he turned to find Merlin staring at the corpses of his two friends with all the calm of dead man. He looked up at Arthur and shook his head sadly.

"I tried to warn you," the warlock said, pursing his lips. "I told Lancelot you would react like this, but he didn't care. Gwen was worth the risk."

"You knew," Arthur asked hoarsely. "You knew this was happening?"

"Knew," Merlin repeated mildly. "Oh, Arthur, of course I knew. I was the one that brought Lancelot back. Gwen told me how unhappy she was and I knew I had to help her escape you. I understood where she was coming from, sire. Who would want to be married to a coward like you?"

"Coward," Arthur rasped, picking up his sword from the floor. "Merlin, you-"

"Coward," Merlin said again. "A failure. A disgrace. The worst king in the history of men. The list goes on and on, sire."

"Shut up," Arthur growled, advancing on his old friend. "Shut your mouth, Merlin."

"A horrible lover," Merlin went on, as if he could not hear his king. "Or so Gwen said, I wouldn't know. Gwain called you a stupid git and I'm inclined to agree."

"You are a liar," Arthur snarled, raising his blood-drenched sword in his hands. "A liar!"

"Ask anyone," Merlin shrugged. "Your people hate you, Arthur. Gwen and I were planning to overthrow you soon. I wanted to kill you right away, but Gwen she—"

"No," Arthur screamed, thrusting his blade up through Merlin's ribcage. "You are lying!"

Merlin jerked and looked down at the sword in his chest, blood dripping from his lips and onto his tunic. When he looked up again his face was covered in black lines, as if the Darkness had once again taken hold of him, and his eyes were dilated to the point that only the smallest bit of white shone through the black of his pupils. His lips were stretched back in a grimace of pain and his shaking hands reached up and took hold of the blade.

"Fool," he whispered, pulling the sword from his flesh. "Did you honestly think you could kill me? The most powerful warlock in all the land?"

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, backing away from his powerful foe. "Merlin, please—"

"It's time to wake up, Arthur Pendragon. Wake up and face what you have done!"

"Merlin!"

Merlin only smiled and threw the sword at his king with all the might of his magic behind the blade. Arthur felt it slam into him and his world shattered into blackness, the only color being that of his wife's sightless eyes.

"Guinevere," Arthur screamed, shooting upright in his bed, trying to free himself from the tangled mess of his blankets and the hands that fiercely gripped his shoulders.

"Arthur," Merlin shouted, trying to hold him still. "Arthur, it's alright. Just…calm down."

Merlin's voice permeated the terrified haze of Arthur's brain, but was almost instantly drowned by the vision of the warlock's black gaze. The king struggled against him and lashed out, feeling his fist connecting firmly with flesh. He heard a muffled grunt of impact and the hands trying to hold him down suddenly disappeared.

Arthur leapt from his bed and stood, breathing heavily and covered in sweat, trying to regain his senses. Slowly, and with great reluctance, his breathing slowed and the knot of terror in his stomach started to ease. He looked down at his feet and was shocked to find a vaguely Merlin shaped lump grunting as he tried to find a way out of the blankets Arthur had thrown off in his haste to free himself.

"Merlin," Arthur said, bending down to help his friend untangle himself. "Are you alright?"

"No," Merlin huffed, his hair shooting off every which way. "I can't believe you punched me, Arthur!"

"Let me see," Arthur said softly, taking Merlin's jaw in his hand and turning his face to the side and wincing at the nicely colored bruise that was already beginning to take shape around his eye and down across his cheekbone. "Ah. Well…stop being such a baby, Merlin. There isn't a mark on you."

"Liar," Merlin said instantly. "You've probably disfigured my face, Arthur."

"I did not disfigure your face. Don't be dramatic."

"Well, you at least bruised it."

"Merlin, women find bruises manly and attractive."

"Says who?"

"Everyone."

"That's two lies in two minutes, Arthur. You are on a roll."

"Merlin, I understand if your feminine sensibilities can't handle being called manly, but don't take it out on me."

"Prat."

"Clotpole."

"Come up with your own insults, Arthur. Disgraceful, the way you copy off somebody else's genius."

You are a disgrace, dream Merlin whispered in his head and Arthur winced.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, catching his friend's look. "Are you alright?"

"The nightmares," Arthur said hoarsely. "They are getting worse, Merlin."

"Care to talk about it? Sometimes, when mine get particularly nasty, I find it helps to talk about them."

Arthur glanced over at his friend and frowned at the dark circles of exhaustion beneath his eyes. The nightmares he received as a parting gift from his time with the Darkness were getting better, but he still had them. And besides, the past week had been an almost never-ending battle for the warlock. The clean up from their encounter with the demons had only just begun and all the while Merlin had been taking care of his king, watching him with the attentive eyes of a hawk, waiting for the moment Arthur would eventually snap.

Insanity. That was what Arthur faced in the coming weeks, months, or even days. Neither of the men knew which, but both understood with absolute certainty that their journey had only just begun. The power the demon had hit Arthur with had started its work early and the king had been plagued with the most vivid nightmares of his life for the past week.

Merlin had begged his king to leave as soon as both felt well enough to travel, but Arthur kept finding reasons to put it off. There was so much work to be done and his people needed him more than ever before. They had only recently buried the last of the bodies and still had yet to begin the rebuilding of the Lower Towns. Thousands of his people were homeless and were being forced to live on the outer plains of Camelot's city borders until their dwellings could be constructed again. His people didn't complain, but he knew that the constant state of upheaval was taxing on them.

Still, Arthur knew that the time to leave was at hand and though he loathed to he had to leave for the better of his people. Nightmares were one thing, but full ranting madness was another.

"Arthur," Merlin said again. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," Arthur replied, trying to forget the feel of Gwen's throat beneath his fingers. "Not at all, in fact."

"Alright," Merlin whispered. "Arthur…I know I've said it before but, please, sire…we should—"

"Go," Arthur finished for him. "I know."

"You do," Merlin asked, surprised. "But, just yesterday you said—"

"I know what I said," Arthur snapped. "And now I've changed my mind."

"We should tell the knights," Merlin said, getting to his feet. "Make sure they are ready to go in the morning."

"No," Arthur whispered. "The knights aren't going, Merlin."

"What? What do you mean they aren't going?"

"They can't know about this, old friend. Nobody can, but you and I."

"Arthur, you are being ridiculous. They can help us!"

"No," Arthur ordered again. "That's final, Merlin."

"So, what do you plan to tell them then?"

"About?"

"About why you are leaving, "Merlin answered, rolling his eyes.

"Oh," Arthur frowned. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Obviously, sire."

"Shut-up, Merlin."

"Arthur…they should be a part of this. At least, the Knights of the Roundtable."

"I don't want them to think any less of me."

"They won't."

"What if they do?"

"Arthur, this is the paranoia talking."

"I'm not paranoid."

"Arthur, just yesterday I caught you listening to the walls for sounds of intruders."

"I did no such thing, Merlin."

"You did, sire. And the day before that you made Guinevere walk ten feet behind you because you were convinced she had fleas."

"I could see them, Merlin. Hopping around on her dress."

"Arthur," Merlin pleaded. "Think about what you just said and ask yourself if they are the words of a rational man."

"There were fleas, Merlin."

"Arthur—"

"Alright," Arthur snapped, shooting his friend a death glare. "We can bring the knights, but nobody else."

"Not even Gwen," Merlin asked.

"Especially not Gwen," Arthur murmured. "I don't want her to see me like that, Merlin."

"And Awen?"

"Awen has her hands full here," Arthur reminded his friend.

"We could use her, Arthur. With our luck we'll probably need a healer ten minutes into the quest."

"Fine," Arthur said woodenly. "Bring her to."

"Arthur?"

"What?"

"We're going to get through this, you know that, right?"

"Right."

"Arthur, please talk to—"

"I want to be alone," Arthur blurted. "Just leave me alone for awhile, please."

"Alright," Merlin agreed, stepping back. "I'll take care of everything, Arthur. Don't you worry. Try and get some rest."

The young warlock left and Arthur was once again alone with his thoughts. Alone with his intruders and alone with his fleas. Alone with his paranoia and alone with his murderous fingers.

Alone. That was the true fear of insanity. It meant being alone and afraid, with nobody to comfort you. It meant the death of everything you knew and loved until nothing was left but you and the darkness.

He thought of his Lancelot's head as it bounced upon the ground, the man's blood as it sprayed across the room in a crimson arc. He thought of the look on Merlin's face as he ran him through with his sword and the dark, soulless gaze of the warlock as he killed him. But, most of all, Arthur thought of his wife's bones breaking beneath his hands, her wheezing cry as he'd strangled her.

Never in a million years would he think himself capable of such monstrosities, but he had already hurt one friend because of his fear. Merlin had only been bruised, true enough, but the principle of the action was the same. If he could do it once, could he not do it again?

Arthur put his face in his hands and wept.