The last chapter! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! It's always a little nerve-wracking posting in a new fandom, especially one like this, and you've all been very welcoming. Can't tell you how much I appreciate it!

DAUGHTER OF EREBUS
By TIPPER

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CHAPTER NINE: KING OF HIDDEN DEPTHS

Merlin sat very still in his own bed, trying not to jostle his arm too much, or think too much about everything that had happened. He and Gaius had come up with an explanation for the burning bucket he'd hit Camilla with, and the burning knife, explaining both away with some of the flammable oils and spirits Gaius had lying around on the work tables. Merlin had simply used what he had at hand, they'd told Arthur, to fight the monster. Both Arthur and Humphries had seemed to accept the story, which was a relief. Likely it was because there was far too many other things to worry about than how Merlin had managed to light Camilla on fire.

Not that he fully understood how he'd done that himself, but he wasn't about to question it.

Instead, he found himself turning over and over again in his mind what Lady Humphries had said in the forest. How he made Arthur vulnerable, and how that had almost resulted in Camelot's gold being stolen, and in Gaius, Lord Humphries and Arthur almost being killed. He'd been so arrogant to think it didn't matter what other people thought. Whether they were friends or not, Arthur was and always would be the king. And kings and servants could not be seen to be friends. Years ago, before Morgana became…Morgana, Arthur had warned him against showing affection for her, for fear of Uther's wrath. That he and Morgana couldn't even been seen to be friends, "much less anything else." And for the first time, Merlin truly understood why. Uther had been many, many things, but there was never any doubt that he had loved Arthur and Morgana deeply, and now viewed in that light….

"You're not reading?" Gaius asked, popping his head in the door, looking far too cheerful for Merlin's liking. He was holding a fairly heavy looking tome in his hand. "I thought you were going to help me figure out who Camilla was?"

Merlin frowned, blushing slightly as he looked at the stack of books next to his bed that Gaius had given him to look through. He'd cracked one, and then given up.

"What does it matter?" he asked, not really wanting an answer. "She's dead."

"We're not wholly certain of that," Gaius reminded him. "We have no body, or bodies for that matter. We have no idea where any of the thieves ended up."

Merlin shrugged, and instantly winced as pain radiated down his arm and into his chest. Gaius kindly said nothing about the stupid move, though he gave a sympathetic grimace.

"Anyway," the physician said, "it doesn't matter, because I think I found it."

Merlin's eyebrows lifted, interested despite himself. "Really?" He sat up a bit. "Where?"

"In one of the old Roman texts, in the back of the library. Did you know they had their own belief system of gods and goddesses, similar to that of the ancient Greeks?" He moved over to sit in the chair next to Merlin's bed, and opened the book for him. "When you were trying to repeat some of the words Camilla spoke, one of them sounded vaguely familiar to me. The word, or rather name, Hermes. " The illustration on the page Gaius showed him depicted a young man with wings on his heels and on his helmet, holding a staff that looked like intertwined snakes. Merlin frowned, recognizing the symbol – he'd seen it on a number of Gaius' books.

"What's that symbol?"

"The Caduceus. Today, we use it to as the symbol of medicine, but it originated with Hermes, who was the messenger of the Olympian gods."

"Olympian gods…."

"Hermes could also spirit people from place to place, including to the spirit world."

Merlin frowned, looking up from the picture. "The spirit world? As in—?"

"The other side of the veil, yes. Where the Dorocha came from."

Merlin gave an involuntary shudder at their name—he probably always would. Leaning forward a bit, he tried to recall exactly what Camilla had said when she used Hermes name. For all her other spells, she'd only needed a couple of words, but when she spoke of Hermes, it had been a full sentence. Almost like she was pleading for something.

"I think," Gaius said, "based on what you told me, she was begging Hermes to take the thieves away from here. And he did. Or something did."

Merlin huffed. "But…but Hermes isn't real. These are just myths."

Gaius grimaced. "Lamia was real, was she not?"

"Yes, but—"

"Lamia was a monster in their mythology, Merlin. Their gods created her."

Merlin's brow furrowed, trying to understand that, swallowing hard. He flipped some more pages, seeing illustrations of other gods like Hermes, including some guy with a lightning bolt and a woman in a helmet with an owl on her shoulder. "You mean…you mean they…there are gods like these around? Actual gods?" All he could think was, how do you fight a god?

"I don't know. I don't like to think so. Otherwise, why would the empire have fallen? The Romans themselves had started to lose faith in this religion, I believe, by the time they breached our shores. We call it simply mythology now. Something for storybooks, not for belief. Still…." Gaius shook his head. "After what happened, I wonder how much of their mythology was born of the magic that was prevalent back then. We have no reason to believe that their magic wasn't strong enough to make people seem like gods, or to make monsters appear human, like Lamia. Camilla certainly was powerful."

"She called herself only a demi-god," Merlin remembered. "So I was right – she wasn't human."

"She may have been part-human. Demi-gods are pretty common in the stories in these books as well. Seems these gods got around a lot."

Merlin gave him a dry look, and flipped a few more pages. He stopped at the image on a young man wearing a lion-pelt, fighting something that looked like a large version of the Fomorrah. He frowned deeply, and flipped to another page, this one showing what looked like the griffin Lancelot had killed. His frown deepened.

"Do you think there are more out there like her?" Merlin asked, flipping to the next illustration.

"Perhaps. Why?"

Merlin let out a shaky breath. "Because I think she was more powerful than I was."

"We'll never know, I suppose. You did hold her magic at bay, remember. And…" He tilted his head, "You did fight her. And you did win."

"With help."

"We all need help, Merlin. Even you. Weren't you just complaining a few days ago about Arthur thinking he could do everything on his own, and denying the value of your help and friendship? Well, you shouldn't deny his help and friendship either. We're all stronger together."

Merlin frowned again, not about to tell Gaius about what he'd been thinking when his mentor first came in. That some friendships made people weaker, not stronger. He flipped to another page, this one showing what looked like a castle set high on a mountain. He tapped the image.

"She said she was from Erebus. Is that in mentioned in this book?"

"Yes, and I think it explains a great deal about why you felt she had the same magic as the Dorocha." Gaius picked up the book and flipped to somewhere near the back. When he turned the book around, the illustration depicted a young man sleeping on a small island, while another sat by his side surveying the bleak landscape, looking almost protective. Two black rivers flowed around the island, and, in the background, gray shapes of mountains and citadels and lots of smoke.

"The isle of Erebus," Gaius said. "According to this book, it lies in the underworld. On one side of it is the river Styx, for the goddess of hate, and on the other, the river Lethe, for the goddess of forgetfulness. Those two figures are the gods Hypnos, god of sleep, and Thanatos, god of death. They're brothers. Erebos was their father, the primordial god of darkness."

Merlin just stared. Lethe. Hypnos. He'd heard her use both those names.

"So…that means…does that mean Camilla came from the spirit world?"

"Or she was someone whose magic originated from that side of the veil, like the Cailleach. It's why her magic made you feel so cold and so sick."

Merlin turned away, not wanting to look at the image anymore. Gaius, ever understanding, pulled the book onto his lap and closed it. The mentor smiled sadly.

"My problem," he said, "is that, even with this information, I don't know how we can use it." Gaius sighed slightly, patting the cover. "But perhaps, next time, we may be able to better understand what we're up against."

Merlin just shook his head. "Why is everything from the spirit world so evil?"

Gaius's eyebrows shot up. "It's not."

Merlin frowned. "But—"

"The spirit world has both beauty and despair, Merlin. Or have you forgotten who healed you after you were attacked by the Dorocha?" He looked down at the book in his lap. "You must remember that there is a balance to all things, Merlin. Erebos was the father of night, of darkness and of death, but he was also the father of day, of light and even love. You can't have one without the other. He was also the father of the three Fates, the three sisters who spin and weave our destinies."

"Of course," Merlin smiled wryly. "Destiny. How could you forget destiny."

Gaius quieted after that, and Merlin found himself fiddling with the corner of the blanket over his knees. His mind was tripping over the possibilities of yet another kind of magic he couldn't control. How was he ever going to—

A light knock at the door caused Merlin to look up, and Gaius as well. Gwen smiled brightly at them both.

"Hello," she said. "I'm sorry. I thought I might drop by, if Merlin were up to visitors. Am I interrupting?"

Gaius smiled, standing up with the book in his arms. "No, of course not," he said. "We're always glad to see you."

She smiled even more, and gave Merlin a nod. "You look much better than you did a couple of days ago."

Merlin smiled as wide as he could, happier now that she was here and he could stop talking about things he couldn't fix. "I'm feeling much better, thank you."

"Please sit, your majesty," Gaius said, moving away from the chair. "It's about time I went to check on Lord Humphries—he wants me to give him leave to head home."

"Thank you," Gwen said, sitting and taking Merlin's hand almost without thinking. But as Gaius turned to leave, she called his name.

"Wait. Gaius, I…I was wondering what happened to the sheets Hemera brought for Merlin and Lord Humphries. I noticed they were gone when I came by yesterday."

"Sheets?" Merlin asked. "I got new sheets?"

"Hemera?" Gaius asked instead, his brow furrowing. "You know of Hemera?"

Gwen blushed slightly. "I admit, I may not be amongst the servants as I used to be, but I should hope that you wouldn't think me so terrible as to not know the name of the one of the new maidservants." She smiled and looked at Merlin. "She brought you new sheets the day you awoke, that her sister made. I've been trying to locate her or them since."

"New sheets," Gaius repeated, and Merlin could hear the tension in his voice. "A new maidservant brought new sheets, named Hemera?"

Gwen frowned deeply. "Are you making fun of me? Yes, that's what I said."

"What was her sister's name?" Gaius asked, and Merlin could see the veins popping in his forehead. "Did she say?"

"Um…Began with a 'C' or a 'K' I believe?"

Gaius pulled the book closer. "Clotho?"

"That's it!" Gwen said, grinning. "Then you've met her? Hemera?" She looked towards the doorway. "It's funny, she said I'd likely see her every day, but I haven't seen her since. I rather wanted to see if I could get some of those sheets for my room."

Gaius just smiled tightly, and looked at Merlin. "Oh, she's around," he said, his voice squeaking slightly. "If you'll excuse me…." Turning, he walked out of the room, with Merlin's eyes on him the entire time. Merlin figured he'd find out later what that was all about, and, based on Gaius' reaction, it couldn't be good.

Gwen, though, simply frowned slightly at Gaius' retreat, shaking her head. "I don't understand him sometimes," she said. Turning her attention to Merlin, she smiled anew and squeezed his hand. "It really is good to see you well again, my friend. It's been far too quiet without you around."

Merlin smirked. "George is rather spooky isn't he?"

"Spooky? He makes a prowling cat seem loud. I want to put a bell around his neck."

Merlin laughed, and Gwen tightened her grip on his hand. He squeezed back.

...


...

A few hours later, Arthur nodded at Gaius as he walked into the physician's chambers, and Gaius took the nod for what is was. A request to leave. Before he even reached the steps up to Merlin's room, Arthur heard the door to the main hall shutting softly behind him.

For a moment, he just stood there, reluctant to actually climb the steps. With some embarrassment, he realized how much he'd been putting this conversation off. He'd already come to confirm that Merlin was getting better and to further wish him well, which had gone as well as it could. There was an awkwardness, though, which he knew he couldn't blame Merlin for. If he hadn't banned Merlin from the council chambers, none of it would have happened. Merlin had a right to be mad. Except Merlin hadn't seemed angry—if anything, Merlin had seemed just as uncertain as he was. As if he too had to apologize for something, though for what, Arthur had no idea.

Either way, Arthur knew the time had come. Merlin would be well enough to return to work soon, and Arthur had to repair what he'd done, what he'd said to Merlin before…the day before Merlin had been kidnapped. That whole conversation. Running through it in his mind, he realized how foolish he had been to think the way he had. Well, he knew better now. And Merlin deserved his apology.

Even if he hated apologizing. His father had told him that he should never apologize—"royalty never apologizes, Arthur. Remember that." But then again, his father hadn't been right about everything. And, the way Arthur felt right now, he knew that the only way to make things right with Merlin was to admit he was wrong and say he was sorry.

Squaring his shoulders, he strode up the steps to the room and knocked on the door. Merlin was sitting on his bed, not reading the book on his lap, his gaze unfocused and staring vaguely towards the window. At Arthur's knock, he jumped a little, and clearly forced a smile, attempting to sit up straighter at the same time. It looked so pathetic, Arthur had to stop him with a wave.

"Don't be stupid. Sit back. I just…I wanted…. I came to say hello. See how you were."

"Bored," Merlin admitted, smiling more brightly. "Any news?" he asked.

Arthur nodded. "We found the three caskets of gold you told us about, stashed up in that tree."

Merlin actually grinned. "It was still there?"

"Yeah, though, how they hell they got it up there, I have no idea. Even with a rope and tackle, the tree limbs were barely able to sustain the weight. But, we got them down again."

Merlin's smile tightened briefly, and Arthur could easily guess why. When Leon had been telling him about how difficult it was to get the gold down, the first thing he thought was that magic had been involved in getting it up there. Which meant that sorceress. Merlin had likely just made the same connection, remembering how that woman had almost killed him. Arthur sighed.

"Anyway," he said moving to stand over the chair next to the bed and gripping the back of it, "it means that nearly all the gold has been accounted for. A couple of pieces short, that's all. They may have escaped, but they didn't get anything that they came for."

Merlin's smile fell, and he gave a nod. "Good."

Arthur smiled lightly, and gripped the back of the chair a little more firmly.

Merlin watched him for a moment, and then looked down at the book on his lap.

"So…." Arthur began.

Merlin looked up again.

Arthur pursed his lips, finding his mind had gone blank. He was supposed to apologize, darn it. So, just get on with it, Arthur! But how to start? How does one usually start an apology?

"Arthur," Merlin said quietly. "I was…I wanted to say something."

Arthur waved a hand. He probably wanted to thank him again for saving his life. "No need," he said. "I would have done it for anyone."

Merlin's brow furrowed slightly. "No, I…what?"

"Saving your life. No need to thank me."

"Oh," Merlin said, nodding. "That."

Arthur frowned. "Oh, that?" he repeated incredulously. "I saved you from that sorceress, monster, whatever-she-was, and all I get is, 'oh, that?'"

"Oh, sorry, I meant to say—"

"She was going to kill you, Merlin."

"I know. And—"

"And if I hadn't come when I did, you'd be dead."

"Probably."

"Probably? Try definitely, Merlin. You were facing down a sorceress with a the equivalent of a butter knife! Is it really that hard to say thank you?"

"But you just said there was no need to—"

"I changed my mind."

Merlin started at him for a moment, and then sighed softly. He looked down at the book. "You're, right, I—"

"Wait, wait," Arthur pressed a hand to his head. "Stop." God damn it. He'd come here to apologize. Not for thanks. What was wrong with him? Why did he always find it so much easier to fight with Merlin than talk to him seriously? "Forget it. I…I don't want thanks. In fact, I should be thanking you. For warning us about her in the first place. And…and you also helped me kill her. I wouldn't have managed it without you. Thank you."

Merlin just blinked, brow furrowed in obvious confusion at the sudden about face. Arthur couldn't blame him. So much had happened in the last week that he wasn't sure what was going on in his own mind, much less have it make sense to others.

Shaking his head, Arthur moved around to the front of the chair and sat down heavily. Merlin eyed him curiously out of the corner of his eye. Finally, when Arthur found he still couldn't seem to get his mouth to work, Merlin sighed.

"Would you mind?" Merlin asked, his voice soft. "Gaius says I need to drink more water. Normally I'd call him to get it, but—"

"Of course not," Arthur said, already on his feet again, looking around the room. There, on the sideboard, a pitcher and a couple of cups. He quickly poured Merlin a cup and held it out.

Merlin lifted his good arm to take it, and the more it stretched, the harder it shook. Arthur felt even more like a heel. His friend had nearly died, was still weak, trying to heal, and the first thing he'd done was berate him? Moving closer to the bed, he handed the cup to Merlin so the other wouldn't have to reach so far, and frowned as Merlin drew it to his lips, took a small sip, and then put it down still almost full, resting it atop the book.

Arthur sat back down. Right. Do it now. Tell him you're sorry for being an ass, and ask his forgiveness. Just open your mouth, and say-

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin said. Arthur blinked.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. You were right. About everything. I've been trying…I wanted to say that I get it now. I really get it, and I'm so, so sorry. You don't need to worry about anyone thinking we're friends anymore, I'll-"

"Wait, wait, what? What are you talking about?"

Merlin frowned slightly at being interrupted.

"I'm talking about all of this," he said with more force, his voice shaking slightly. "About what almost happened, because of me."

"Because of you?"

"If we weren't friends, if I were just a servant…" Merlin turned his head away. "I'm sorry for it all."

Arthur just stared. Was he kidding?

"You're sorry for being my friend?"

"No, I…I'm sorry that, because we're friends, Camelot almost got robbed, you almost got killed, this whole thing—"

"Merlin—"

"I get it now, about how people can use me to get to you. You were right, Arthur." He sat up higher on the bed, gripping the cup tightly since his hands were shaking. "I am a liability."

"Now, hang on—"

"They used me to get to you, kidnapped me just to distract you, and it almost worked. You were right to say we can't be seen to be friends in public, and I was wrong."

Arthur shook his head. "No, you weren't."

"You weren't there, Arthur! Lady Humphries told me herself that, because they knew you'd come after me, it made Camelot vulnerable. I…I can't be responsible for that. You made the right decision pushing me to the background. And I plan to remain there, to be invisible like all the other servants, just as you want me to be."

"I don't—"

"I think that someone else should attend you fully, for a time, until people forget about me. I would like to still be a servant in the castle, any position you think appropriate, but if you would like me to leave, I can. And I think that George would be a good replacement for—"

"Don't you even dare threaten me with George!"

"Someone else then," Merlin tried, the water in the cup started to slosh over the sides as his shaking increased. "But I can't be the reason this kingdom gets hurt. Or you. Or anyone else. I—"

He stopped talking when Arthur suddenly grabbed his hands, stilling them over the cup, stopping its sloshing.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said softly. Gently, he pried Merlin's hands free of the cup and lifted it away. "And listen to me for once."

Merlin blinked, following the cup as if to avoid looking at Arthur, face burning and eyes wet.

"Not long after my father died," Arthur began, pouring some of the water out of the cup into the jug, and then handing the less full cup back to Merlin, "Gwen said something to me that, when I remember to do it…when I'm not afraid to do it…has served me far more good than ill. But when I don't do it, that's when I truly fail."

When Merlin frowned slightly, showing his uncertainty, Arthur smiled and explained.

"She told me to be true to my heart. That only then would I be the king I want to be."

"She told you to trust your heart," Merlin repeated softly.

"You've told me that a few times yourself, but, well, it sounded better from Gwen's lips."

Merlin gave a wry smile. "I imagine many things look better from Gwen's lips."

Arthur huffed a small laugh, and gestured to the cup. "Drink."

Merlin looked down at the cup, sighed, and then took a sip. It only shook a little this time. Arthur smiled again, and took the cup back.

"I am not a complete fool. I know that my heart is first and foremost what allowed me to be deceived. If I hadn't listened to my heart, I wouldn't have trusted Morgana. I wouldn't have trusted Agravaine. I brought the kingdom to the brink of ruin because I trusted the wrong people."

Merlin had no response to that, just nodded, his eyes dropping to his hands.

"But then my dearest friend," Arthur continued, his voice soft, "the one I should have been listening to all along, told me that, despite those mistakes, he still believed in me. He didn't try to change me, or convince me to do something I knew it my heart was wrong, like Agravaine did, he simply believed in me. And he showed me that my people believed in me as well, even though everything seemed lost. And the kingdom I thought was on the brink of ruin….was far stronger than I even knew.

"Trusting my heart brought me Guinevere. It also brought about peace with the kingdom of Caerleon for the first time in decades, something my father never managed. Most importantly, trusting my heart brought me the love of the knights and the people, something you showed me that day in the Forest of Essetir when I pulled Bruta's sword from the stone. On that day, because of you, I learned, more than anything, that the belief, the faith, my people have in me, and that I need to have in them, is where my true power lies. It's what helped me to defeat Morgana and Agravaine, because they will never be able to defeat that strength, no matter what they throw at us."

"But the lords—"

"The lords recognize that strength just as I do, the value of having the people's love, not just their respect and fear. I didn't know that clearly until they insisted on joining in the search for you. Each one of them stood in front of me and committed their men to my service, to find you." He smiled then, a tiny one accompanied by a shrug, looking at the cup in his hands. "Of course, that won't stop them from trying to ply me for favors, or seek ways to sway my decisions, but I do know for certain now that they believe in the kingdom I am building, and they want be a part of it. A kingdom built on the qualities of friendship and trust, not merely strength of arms."

Merlin smiled. "I'm glad." He looked down again. "But that doesn't wipe away the fact that someone else could use your friendship for me against you. You said I made you weaker, and after all this, I think—"

"Wow, you really are pushing the stupid cart today," Arthur snapped, his natural proclivity for exasperation shining through. "I am apologizing to you, you bird-brained clod-pole. I'm pouring my heart out here, telling you that I need your friendship, that it's made me a better king, that it's something I'm proud for people to know, and you're still trying to tell me I'm wrong?"

"Um…." Merlin tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. "Wait…. Better king, did you say?"

"I'm not dignifying that. You're an idiot. I'm taking it all back." But his lips were quirking into a smile.

Merlin looked up a second, as if replaying Arthur's words in his head, then he started to smile. "Wait, wait…what was that bit about, the friend you should have been listening to all along? Can you say that bit again?"

"Oh, shut up."

Merlin had started to smile, but at Arthur's last snap, he grinned.

Arthur, despite himself, found himself smiling in return, if a bit ruefully. He shrugged.

"So what do you say?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Willing to come back?"

...


...

For Merlin, the whole conversation had been something of a whirligig, difficult to follow, and all wibbly wobbly. Arthur had come in all bombastic, as he often did, demanding thanks, and then, suddenly, as he was wont to do, turning into the amazing man and friend Merlin had come to admire so much, and then, just as suddenly, everything was right between them again.

"So what do you say?" Arthur asked him. "Willing to come back?"

Merlin looked down at his hands, trying to wrap his brain around the question. He had no idea what to say. So he said the first other thing that came to his head.

"Does that mean you can promise me I won't get kidnapped again?"

Arthur actually laughed at that, shaking his head. "No," he said, chuckling. "But…" His smile fell, his eyes growing hard. "I can promise that I'll always come after you. And I will bring the full wrath of Camelot down on anyone who tries."

Merlin's smile faded somewhat under the weight of that promise. Not trusting his voice, he just nodded.

"Good," Arthur said, taking the nod for the agreement it was. "So you rest up." He stood. "A wound like that will likely keep you bedridden for a few more days, but I expect you back to light work within a week, helping me with my schedule and speeches, and back to full duties as soon as Gaius says you can. Is that acceptable?"

"Full duties?"

"Yes, everything," Arthur said, smirking slightly. "Ugly hats and all. Still willing?"

"I…uh…yeah," Merlin said, still feeling incredibly shaky, but happier than he had felt in a long, long time. "Yes."

"Good. I'll be by to visit on the morrow."

Merlin nodded again, and Arthur stood.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said, handing the cup back to Merlin, "I thought you might like to know that I have increased the military contingency for Lord Humphries' lands. I thought, in a few weeks, once you can ride a horse again, you and I could head out there to see how he's applying the funds."

Merlin grinned. "He's a good man, you know."

"I know." Arthur frowned. "Drink some more, and then I'll leave."

Almost reluctantly, Merlin finished the cup. Arthur took it from him and placed it to the side.

"You know," Merlin said, a little tentatively, "Gaius has a chess board. If you get some time this evening, if you're not too tired…."

Arthur smiled. "I'll see what I can do. Though, I warn you, you're likely to get thrashed."

Merlin chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. I've seen you play before. I'm pretty sure I can take you."

"Really? You do recall that I'm the king of an actual army, and have been training in military strategy since I was a child."

"Oh, I don't know. I may have some tricks up my sleeve that you haven't seen yet."

"You, Merlin?" Arthur laughed as he walked to the door."Please. I doubt you have any tricks that I haven't seen. You're as predictable as George is efficient." He shook his head. "But, who knows," he said, leaning against the doorframe and looking at Merlin one last time. "Maybe there are some hidden depths in there that I don't know about."

Merlin held his smile as Arthur gave a wave and bounced down the steps, leaving him alone. But as soon as he was alone, his smile fell, gloom pressing into his shoulders and causing him to slide back down onto the bed.

"Hidden depths," Merlin repeated sadly. "I'm the King of Hidden Depths, Arthur. I just wish I could tell you about them."

...


...

EPILOGUE: KINGS OF THE NEW WORLD…

Aaron sat on the beach, staring out at the sun rising over the ocean and once again wondered just exactly how he and the others had ended up here. Wherever "here" was. The very fact that the ocean was on the wrong side was extremely disconcerting.

It had been almost a week since they'd all been magicked out of Camelot and dumped here, on this long strip of white beach edged by more trees than Aaron had ever seen in his life. A lot of which he didn't recognize. Same with the fruits and berries – nothing was right. Even the birds were wrong, brightly colored and big, like something out of a fairy tale or hallucination.

Wherever here was, it wasn't home. It wasn't even close to home.

They'd done their best, the small band that had survived. There were only about eight of them, plus about six corpses (including Malcon's, which had torn them all up for a long while) and, after about a day of complete disorientation, they were forced to think about setting up some sort of shelter before the hot sun beating down did any more damage. They built rafts for the dead, and set them out onto the ocean to burn, then started building lean-to's and looked for food.

The small amount of exploring they had done had found no roads or ways, other than animal trails, and no other people. Someone thought they had seen what looked like a footprint in the sand, but it could just as easily have been some strange animal they hadn't met yet.

And after a week, it was beginning to look a lot like they were stranded somewhere very, very far away from any sort of civilization…or people. Which pretty much rotted, because Aaron did not like the people he'd been stranded with that much. Jason was a good sort, probably his only real friend, but everyone else? Not so much.

He supposed Camilla had done this, somehow. But why here? Why some deserted, hot beach in the middle of nowhere?

He looked up as Jason settled down on the beach next to him, the younger man giving him a quick grin.

"Saw some huge deer like creature today. Figure, it's got to be good eating. And, yesterday, Hal saw a big, shaggy cow covered in black hair and a massive, flat head." He opened his arms wide to demonstrate.

Aaron smiled lightly. "We should start trying to think of a way to preserve meat, in case there's a winter."

"You really think we're going to survive that long?" He said it so cheerfully, that Aaron almost thought he wasn't serious. Except he was. Jason was always serious—he just always managed to be serious with an extremely positive attitude.

"I don't know," Aaron said, shaking his head ruefully. "I really don't know how long we can survive here, but we need to try."

"I might have an idea how long," Jason said, still smiling happily. "I think our chances of survival are really pretty slim, though you never know. Stranger things have happened."

"Come now, they're better than slim. We've made it through hard winters before and—"

"Oh, I'm thinking we may have less time than that. Maybe even just minutes." Jason shrugged. "It sort of depends on you, though."

Aaron frowned, not understanding. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say, I might know something you don't. But you will know what I know if you turn around. Though, um…perhaps you should do so slowly." Jason grinned, and leaned forward on his knees, gazing at the sunrise. "No sudden moves. And try to look friendly, will you?"

Aaron stared at him for a moment, and then turned around very, very slowly.

The other six survivors were on their knees on the beach, facing him, hands on their heads. Surrounding them tightly was a semi-circle of bronzed skin men and women, all holding deadly arrows pointed at their backs. Feathers adorned their hairs, painted tattoos colored their faces, and they all wore neatly woven deer pelts. Not a single one smiled.

"I told them you were our leader," Jason whispered. "Do a good job, will you?"

Aaron just continued to stare.

"Do better than that," Jason said.

Aaron blinked. And smiled weakly.

"If we ever find Camilla in the underworld," he whispered tightly to Jason as he stood up to face these strange looking people, raising a hand in hello, "I'm going to kill her all over again."

…—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—

THE END

Thank you all again! Hope you liked the story!

For those who are curious about what I did with Camilla, she was indeed a demi-god…of sorts. More like someone who is descended from a demi-god, and figured out how to tap into that power.

When I was playing with the idea of what Camilla could do, I had this image in my head of her invoking the powers of the spirit-gods of Erebus. So, each time she touches someone, she invokes the spirit's name whose power she wants to use. But, she can only ask for help from the family tree from which she is descended, and I sort of imagined her as being the great, great, great, etc., granddaughter of Styx, the goddess of hate (and also the keeper of the river in which Achilles was famously dipped), who, at least in some theogony, is the daughter of Erebos (primordial god of darkness) and Nyx (primordial goddess of night). She is thus related to Hypnos (or Somnus), god of sleep; Lethe, goddess of forgetfulness; Oizys, goddess of misery, woe and suffering (poor Eric—Camilla intended to condemn him to a nightmare-filled coma for the rest of his life); and Ker, spirit of violent death (Camilla really hated Eleanor; the Keres were particularly horrible creatures). Erebos and Nyx, though, were also the parents of Hemera, primordial goddess of the day (Yes, she was the maidservant), and the Fates, who were not about to let some half-human, black sheep of the family screw up destiny (Clotho, or Klotho, is the spinner, while the other sisters weave and cut—hence, the sheets). Put it this way, no one messes with destiny, not even the gods—I'm pretty sure Clotho was behind Hemera's appearance. Anyway, I obviously blended together a couple different versions of the mythology for this story, tapping into the Theoi Project, Wikipedia and Edith Hamilton, but, like all things Merlin, put my own spin on it.

As for Camilla's spell-casting, it's modern day Greek since I have no clue on where to find Ancient Greek on the net, much less translate it into something plausible. I attempted to use phonetic spelling—somewhat poorly, I imagine. In every case, she's simply stating "I invoke…" before the name of the god/spirit she's calling on. But Hermes is not a member of her family, he's a very distant relation, so when she calls on him, she's really asking a favor, invoking him and asking him to please (παρακαλώ or, phonetically, parakaló) transport the men to safety. She does that for Malcon, knowing he would have wanted his men to be safe.