A/N: This next chapter contains some scary and violent images. Ye be warned.

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Merlin didn't realize his legs had folded beneath him until his knees hit the dirt. Gwaine's strong arms enveloped him, and only then did Merlin also realize that he was shaking, that cool tears were running down his cheeks, creating tracks in the ash.

His thoughts were slippery, glazed over by the heavy emotions roiling through him. Guilt, relief, joy, confusion. The darkness was reluctantly receding; it felt as if it were leaking through his pores and into the earth. His mind suddenly recalled the piercing agony that had burned into his bones when Kilgarrah essentially killed the curse Morgana put on him. And he shivered.

Gwaine's hold on him tightened, and the instinct to recoil at once both flared up inside his gut, and then dissipated right after. The anger and betrayal still sizzled under his skin, but was slowly dying down. He felt the hollow cavity in his chest rapidly filling with his sorely missed magic.

When Gwaine had shown up, it had all been blurry. Merlin remembered that Kilgarrah's "purge" had quintessentially drawn the black magic from every part of him, dragged it to one centralized position.

And then Kilgarrah had burned it.

But the action of bringing it to the forefront of Merlin's awareness had drained the strength from his muscles, confused and jumbled his thoughts so that when Gwaine appeared, his emotions won over his logic.

The things he'd said presently left a lingering bad taste in his mouth, but he could only acutely remember some of them. In fact, he could hardly recall exactly what it was Gwaine had told him afterwards. But he knew that wasn't what had brought him to this…acceptance, he felt now.

In truth, the only thing that filled his mind with sharp, defining clarity was the image of Gwaine's eyes, boring into his. Gwaine's words had washed over him like a warm wave, comforting, yet ineffective. What had really hit him, were those eyes. In them, Merlin had read a number of things. In his wobbly, struggling state, in Gwaine's eyes, he had seen guilt, earnestness, honesty…

But most of all, what had pierced into his very soul, and finally…broken him…was truth. Gwaine, in one instantaneous fraction of a moment in time, had shown Merlin that he was there, that even if he didn't understand, even if he made mistakes and always would, what he felt about his friend was real. He had shown Merlin that he cared more about him than he did for himself.

And the moment Merlin recognized that, something inside of him uncoiled. A knot that had been keeping him standing, obstinate to remain in his solitude, had unraveled. He'd realized that he'd been kidding himself.

He would always feel love for a world of people that could never understand. Would never understand how much it hurt. It was just who he was. That would never change.

He knew now that he had been wrong. He'd never been alone. He'd just been looking too far ahead to realize that it was the people who were blind who'd been pushing him forward all along.

And now here he was, trembling, weeping, displaying vulnerability, being cradled in the arms of a friend who would never understand. And suddenly he knew, that was okay.

He buried his face in Gwaine's shirt, and simply cried.

"I know, mate," Gwaine said, "I know."

But Gwaine would never. But, the fact that he would be there anyway? For Merlin, that was enough.

….

Arthur glared upward at the, now, dark sky, hissing in pain through clenched teeth. Sweat drenched him from head to toe, despite the chill breeze causing the trees to creak and bend eerily in the soft glow of the moon, half-shrouded in wispy tendrils of violet clouds.

For the countless time that night, he glanced over his shoulder and squinted into the gloom of the forest, searching madly for any sign of his returning knight and, hopefully, manservant. Because he had to believe that Merlin was with him, that he would come back unscathed and without that deep look of betrayal in his eyes.

His stomach churned in time with his whirling thoughts, running over the day's events over and over. He remembered Gwen's suspicious behavior, Merlin's earnest eyes, the display of miraculous strength as his manservant successfully threw back at least four or five of Camelot's specially trained guardsman like they weighed no more than gangly children.

Once again, he could find no definite solution of compromise to help him make sense of anything. Arthur threw back his head and groaned in frustration at the throbbing ache in his head and in his leg and in his gut as he waited for something to happen that would finally clear things up for him for once in his life.

He sighed and closed his eyes, suppressing a shiver as cold breeze wafted through the trees and snaked up his shirt. His brow furrowed. Something felt…

His eyes snapped open in alarm, and he quickly unsheathed his sword with a loud "shing" which seemed to reverberate through the ominous silence.

"Who's there?" he called into the night. At first, there was no answer, only a dead silence which felt as if it were seeping into Arthur's very bones. And then,

"Dear brother, you're still as hard to sneak up on as you were when we were children," a sweet, silky voice reached Arthur's ears, and his eyes widened in astonishment, his sword unconsciously slipping down a few inches,

"Morgana?" he croaked in disbelief, hating the small quaver in his voice.

"As stunningly observant as ever, Arthur,"

A lithe figure suddenly shimmered into existence, slinking from the shadows of the forest like some kind of panther. Arthur swallowed past a lump of dread that formed at the sight.

Morgana walked with an undeniable grace, and she seemed to radiate a lethal power as she glided into the small clearing, her long skirt silently brushing the ground's foliage. Her pale skin shone with a ghostly light in the dark visage of the woods. One hand hung casually at her side, the other was wrapped around the handle of a thin, elegant blade.

A smirk quirked her blood red lips, but her eyes shone with a cold, utter hatred that seemed to cause what little light there was in the vicinity to cower into the shadows.

Arthur's heart began to pound, and he tried to stand, but a wave of nausea and pain passed over him and he immediately fell back down. He suddenly grasped with a sinking feeling that he was in deep, deep trouble.

Recovering from the dizziness, he set his face into a stony mask, and glared at his sister with what he hoped was a scathing contempt.

Morgana seemed amused at the expression, and cocked her head to the side with a cluck of disapproval,

"Oh, don't be that way, brother. You've only brought this on yourself, after all."

"How did you find me here?" Arthur demanded, though a pit of realization was rapidly forming in his stomach. An image of Gwen's vacant expression passed through his mind, and the pit grew. Morgana's smirk grew, and the sinister light in her eyes intensified. She took a step closer, her grip on the blade tightening to infinitesimally that Arthur almost thought he had imagined it,

"It wasn't all that hard, really." she paused, "After all, it only seems fit that the queen of Camelot would be the first one informed when you left the castle."

Arthur couldn't breathe. Morgana's smile turned into a wicked grin of delight,

"Oh, you didn't realize? Shame. I would have thought that with such an undying love for your wife, you would have noticed the change right away," she sighed dramatically and closed her eyes piteously, "Though, I suppose I must allow you some grace. The spell did replicate and retain her personality, so I must allow for simple human error," her eyes met Arthur's, sparkling with glee, "You never were the most perceptive boy."

Arthur couldn't speak, he couldn't even think. His heart raced, his pulse drummed in his ears. Rage simmered in his chest, humiliation, terror.

"Though, I did, however, expect some sort of suspicion. Gwen is, I mean, essentially gone, in the grand scheme of things. I was rather hoping that you would have noticed, if not in a way to interfere with my plans, of course."

She took another step forward. Arthur raised his sword threateningly, trying and failing to push himself away, but Morgana's eyes merely flashed gold and the weapon was wrenched from his hands and sent flying into the trees. He stared after it, but when he looked back, Morgana's face had taken on a mad glee, a frightening snarl tugged at the corner of her mouth,

"Do you have any idea how much she hates you? It's so…beautiful," she laughed breathlessly, and for the first time, Arthur recognized how insane his sister had become. It was a cold, methodical insanity. Terrifying.

"She tells me everything, you know," Morgana continued, "She tells me how disgusting she feels when you touch her. She tells me how every caress burns her skin, how every whispered, tender word of love causes bile to rise in her throat. She can't stand the way you look at her, the way you speak, your habits, your ticks, your expressions. Like poison, she says. Everything you do only increases her loathing," Morgana's eyes were wild and wide, her mouth open in a shining, knife-like smile, "She. Hates. You."

Arthur felt as if he'd been beaten, the wind knocked out of him. Though, fury continued to pulse in his veins like fire. Suddenly, Morgana straightened, once again immaculately calm and calculating. She twirled the sword in front of her, and ponderously ran her fingers along the edge of the blade,

"So, to answer your question, I know where you are at all times of the day. It was simply a matter of…opportunity," she reasserted her gaze on Arthur, "As soon as I realized that Mordred, "she spat the name like it was venom in her mouth, "was listening in on my conversation, I planted the information. Meanwhile, while he prepares for a battle, I'm here," she spread her arms, indicating their position, "Finishing what I should have a long time ago."

Almost instantly, the smile on her face disappeared, and took on a murderous light. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she raised the tip of the sword slightly. She strode forward.

And disappeared from Arthur's vision with a shriek of rage as she was tackled to the ground.

"Not on my watch, you evil bitch!" Gwaine's voice yelled from the ground as he wrestled with the sorceress.

"Gwaine!" Arthur cried. Morgana screamed in outrage, and suddenly Gwaine was sent flying back several yards.

He hit the ground hard, but appeared only dazed, blinking up at the sky dimly. Which, Arthur saw, was the least of their problems.

Morgana rose slowly to her feet, eyes ablaze with fury and golden fire as a whirlwind, a typhoon of magic began to swirl at her feet. Her hands curled into sharp claws at her sides, her hair whipped about her grotesquely hate-filled face where black patches began to spread on her pale skin. Her skirt flapped in the gale. Darkness rose in slimy tendrils about her feet, weaving about her form in a web-like pattern. A prolonged, banshee-like shriek spewed from her lips, and Arthur had to clamp his hands over his ears as fear raced up his spine.

And then, it all paused. The darkness receded, the wind died down, leaving an empty silence in the air. Morgana's eyes had widened in pain and shock, her mouth had gone slack. Arthur watched in abject fascination and horror as a pool of dark blood welled up behind her lips, and dribbled out of the corners of her mouth, trailing morbidly down her trembling chin. Hands still upraised towards the sky, she looked down, brow furrowing in confusion and what looked like disturbed curiosity at the blade protruding from her stomach, glistening with her own blood.

Arthur's eyes traced the sword to the man holding it, and his heart soared at the sight of Merlin, his free hand on one of Morgana's shoulders, his head hovering above her other, lips brushing the raven hair in an almost intimate fashion. Her pupils dilated as they flicked towards him, though she didn't move, agony holding her rigid in place, her mouth still wide open like a clay mask.

"Didn't I tell you what it would taste like?" Merlin murmured so softly, so emotionlessly, Arthur could hardly believe it had come from his manservant.

In one swift motion and with a sickening squelch, he pulled the sword out of the sorceress, and watched impassively as she brought her hand to the hole in her gut, fell agonizingly slowly to her knees, and then collapsed fully to the ground. Dead.

Arthur stared at her body for a long time, watching the breeze ruffle her hair, and knew that his knight and manservant were doing the same. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the fact. She was gone.

And then Merlin was by his side, and Arthur snapped back into reality.

"Merlin?" he asked faintly, watching his manservant look him over for injury as if he'd never seen him before. Merlin looked up at him, and his lips split in a grin, though it seemed pained,

"Hello, Arthur."

...

A/N: Whew! Next chapter. :D So, first of all, I apologize for the first section of this chapter. Admittedly, I'm a bit of a sap...okay, a lot of a sap. But at least I'm open about it!...right? Anyways, hope you guys liked it! The next chapter should be the last, hopefully. :) Thanks so much everyone for joining me on this adventure. It's been painfully fun, but a good experience. :D And you've all just been, wow, like, amazing. Seriously. I tried to reply to all your reviews, but a few of you were guests, and a few had PM-ing disabled (you know who you are) so here's one big shout out to all of you for being absolutely fantastic and wonderfully supportive and, just, great followers! WOOOOHOOOOO! I hope the part with Morgana wasn't too creepy for you guys. :D

News on Trapped: For those of you following my story, Trapped, I apologize deeply for the long wait. But, rest assured, I am currently working on the next chapter, and hope you can have a bit more patience with me, for it should be up very soon. :D Love all of you, and have a great day/night or what have you!