Hi guys, I'm really sorry that it's been a while since an update. I DID intend to update this fairly frequently, but I've been struggling with some stuff and haven't really been writing. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, and I want to thank you for the lovely reviews I've received. This chapter pretty much sticks to what actually happens in the episode (4x13), but there will be lots of glorious Gwaine whump in the next few chapters, because he's too damn proud and stubborn to let people take care of him! (And because I, like many other fanfiction writers, enjoy hurting my favourite characters. Sorry not sorry.)
Disclaimer: the characters aren't mine, and nor is any dialogue that you recognise.
….
Percival dashed down the corridor, searching desperately for his missing friend. He had only caught a glimpse of Gwaine as the dark-haired knight ran past him, but from what he had seen his friend did not look good. He was still bare-chested, and blood was running down his arm in a torrent of red. It was a testament to how bad the injury really was that Gwaine had not stayed to help them fight, as Percival knew that the knight would never abandon a friend in need if he had the choice.
The tall knight noticed a bare foot sticking out into the corridor from a small recess and hurried towards it. As he got nearer he saw Gwaine's unconscious form, slumped against the wall of the recess. His arm was still pulsing blood, and the fluid ran down the white wall in rivulets, pooling on the floor in a steadily growing puddle of red.
Percival drew in a breath, the air whistling between his teeth, and crouched beside his friend.
"Gwaine?" he asked quietly. "Gwaine?" The dark-haired knight did not stir. Percival glanced along the corridor, but it was deserted other than himself and Gwaine. He bit his lip, frowning in concentration, then, making up his mind, he slid one arm under the body of his unconscious friend and lifted him. Scanning the corridor once more, Percival began to run, hunched over Gwaine's body protectively.
…..
Arthur's blood pounded through his veins as they burst through the doors to the throne room. The unlikely group stopped short, taken aback by the sight of Morgana, oozing nonchalance, lounging upon her assumed throne. Helios planted by her side, but there were no other Saxons in the room.
He had expected the throne room to be heavily defended, but given Morgana's magic, he supposed that any weapons or soldiers were futile.
"Welcome, dear brother", the witch sneered, heavy lidded eyes meeting Arthur's own. He felt a chill as he met the harsh, merciless gaze of the woman he had once loved as a sister. Where was that Morgana now? Was his childhood friend and adolescent confidante hidden somewhere within the sadistic witch before him? Or had that woman been snuffed out – the first victim of the sorceress seated on his throne?
Morgana rose sinuously to her feet, approaching the man she had usurped.
"I apologise if you had a difficult reception. It's hard to know who to trust these days."
She stopped several paces from him, regarding him with her head tilted slightly, in much the same way as a cat would examine a mouse it had pinned. Arthur did his best to dispel that image from his brain as he slowly walked forward to meet his sister.
He raised the sword Merlin had led him to, palm open to show that he had no indication of attacking her. Her eyes followed him distrustfully as he sheathed the sword in his belt, the same crimson as the Pendragon coat of arms gleaming wetly on the blade.
They met in the centre of the hall, cold grey-green eyes boring into peaceful blue. Standing so close to Morgana, it was almost impossible to reconcile this filthy, hostile woman with the beautiful, kind-hearted maiden he had known.
"What happened to you, Morgana?" he asked sorrowfully. "I thought we were friends."
Their eyes remained locked together, and for a brief moment Arthur thought he glimpsed something of the old Morgana within, peering through a haze of pain and regret.
"As did I", she confessed softly, hurt clear in her voice. But as swiftly as she had appeared, the girl he had known was gone, replaced once more by the witch. Her eyes hardened as she spat:
"But alas, we were both wrong."
"You can't blame me for my father's sins", Arthur responded, hoping that she could see reason and he could avoid further bloodshed.
"It's a little late for that. You've made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind", Morgana all but snarled. Her lips twitched upwards into a smirk as she added "You're not as different from Uther as you'd like to think."
"Neither are you", Arthur retaliated. Morgana drew back as though he had slapped her, shock and fear registering on her face for the briefest moment before her countenance smoothed once more, that same smirk that Arthur had come to hate playing at the edges of her lips.
"I'm going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon. Not even Emrys can save you now."
Arthur drew his sword determinedly, all hopes of reasoning with his sister gone.
"Your blades cannot stop me!" Morgana laughed. Her eyes flashed with that deadly golden fire as she spoke in the language of the Old Religion:
"Hleap on bæc!"
Nothing happened.
….
Merlin bit his lip to keep from laughing at the expression on Morgana's face. He had been a little concerned that the enchantment he had placed on the doll would not hold, or Morgana would realise that she was defenceless and hide herself rather than facing them. But it had gone perfectly! He knew that he couldn't betray his identity as Emrys, but it was difficult not to laugh when Morgana realised that her main weapon had, apparently, deserted her. The others also seemed surprised, Arthur slightly wary, as if unsure whether Morgana was trying to trick them.
Glancing at the thug behind her anxiously Morgana took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure, before trying again.
"Hleap on bæc!" Her green eyes flashed with the swirling gold light that signalled the use of magic – the only thing about her that retained the lightness of her former personality – the love that used to fill her and now was reduced to the grey, cold ashes of a dead fire. But nothing happened.
Arthur watched his sister curiously, hope beginning to spark in his heart. Morgana had never been a good actor, and the distress that she appeared to be in seemed real. When her spell had first failed, he had been confused and uncertain, worried that she was playing a trick on them or that her incantation would have hidden consequences. But it seemed that her magic had abandoned her at the opportune moment.
"Not so powerful now, my lady." His face was carefully blank, but his strength and authority rang out in his voice. Morgana's eyes widened, and for the first time she seemed truly afraid. Helios shifted, pulling the witch behind him, and she fled the throne room.
…
Thanks for reading! Sorry there wasn't as much Gwaine in this one, but it was necessary to cover this time period before going on to the stuff after the battle. Don't worry, there will be much more of our favourite knight in future chapters! And I will try to be quicker in updating – most of the next chapter is already written so it should hopefully be up within the week.