Merlin threw himself off the body, ripping the knife out with a disgusting squelching noise that might have bothered him if he wasn't in such a hurry. As it was, he figured he might (possibly) feel a little guilty… later. Now, there was nothing but grim satisfaction and raw worry.

He nearly flew up the stairs, avoiding several blood stains that littered the stairs. He didn't know which ones belonged to him and which to the dead stranger, but judging by the warmth on his face right underneath the pain in his head, he had his fair share. Head wounds bleed a lot. He would worry about it later.

He turned so fast when he reached Arthur's room that he ran into the wall, stumbled back, blinked, and went in. It was empty. And it was trashed. The wardrobe was on the wrong side of the room and half the bed seemed to have disintegrated into ash.

Just then, he heard another yell from Arthur—from down the hall.

What, were they playing chase now? he thought irritably as he changed direction.

Arthur woke up quickly when he saw the strange-faced Gwaine come over to his bed. He didn't know if it was paranoia or a sixth sense, but he didn't want his friend near him.

After what had happened to him, he felt like it could be either.

Gwaine was silent. Most uncharacteristic. Arthur's eyes took in his figure wearily, wondering why Gwaine was looking at him like that. He wished he could just focus… If he could focus, he could look closely and assure himself that this was actually Gwaine.

But then Gwaine's eyes flashed gold as he reached for his sword.

This wasn't Gwaine.

Arthur realized then just as he had many times before that training comes back to you, right along with that rush, when you need it. Arthur pushed himself quickly and rolled off the bed with a shout just the side of the bed he had been lying on suddenly shriveled up into a crispy blackness.

Without stopping to pause for thought, Arthur, with a herculean effort, grabbed the sword by his bed. Just where it had been before he left. And then, he lifted it. He had to use his uninjured hand, because the broken one just couldn't have been able to take it. He wasn't sure he'd be able to fight – he was so tired – but he had to try.

Not-Gwaine (because though Arthur still couldn't focus, he knew this wasn't Gwaine) snarled and looked at Arthur. "Quick on your feet," he complimented.

He had Gwaine's voice but not his tone. It was disconcerting to say the least.

Arthur pointed the sword at him and tried to look as threatening as a bandaged, bedraggled man could. "Stay back," he warned. I've been trained to kill since birth. If he wasn't so desperate and sickly terrified he would laugh.

Not-Gwaine snorted. "A pointy stick isn't going to help you win this," he informed the king. "Magic's a bit hard to beat."

His eyes flashed gold, but Arthur was watching. He saw his wardrobe start to shake and threw himself back into time to keep from being smashed to bits as it seemed to fly across the room.

Not-Gwaine was right. He couldn't beat magic… Not alone in this enclosed room. He wouldn't try.

He grabbed a small, knife-shaped letter opener from his desk. Not a dagger, but it would hurt. He threw it at his attacker. When the man ducked, Arthur made for the door. He brushed his bad hand against the doorway on his way out, and the world went a little fuzzy, but he pulled himself together and kept going. The footsteps of Not-Gwaine were just behind him, so he turned around to face him.

Gwaine's face was twisted and his hand was out, ready to use magic. Arthur kept his sword up and his knees bent, looking around the hall for any help or other peril. He kept moving backwards, and the sorcerer kept coming forwards.

They backed down the hall, past a corner before the sorcerer decided that was quite enough playing around. His eyes flashed again, but Arthur held up his sword and the light from the man's hand deflected off of it. (He hadn't known swords could do that. He needed to use that more.)

At the same time, though, while Arthur was defending himself from the magic, the sorcerer leapt and crashed into the king, knocking him to the ground. Arthur fell on his right side, his sword knocked to the side, and hollered as he hit his broken hand. Spots colored his vision, but he scooted back and tried to regain control.

He got to his feet, but the sorcerer now had a weapon out and was waving it at Arthur.

Weapon. Now there was something Arthur could cope with.

He blocked the blow without too much difficulty. The next one was a little harder, but then the sorcerer's eyes flashed (and that's just not fair, Arthur thought, terrified again as he saw the glow that he'd come to fear above all else) and a vase crashed into Arthur's side, breaking and cutting him.

Arthur just barely managed to remain on his feet. Just then, Merlin turned the corner, running full-tilt for the king and his attacker. Half of his face had blood streaked down it and he had a gore-strained knife in his hand.

The attacker whipped around but kept his weapon trained on Arthur. Merlin was still running, but the man's eyes went yellow and Merlin went flying, crashing against the wall with a wince-worthy sound.

"Stay put," the man said, "I'm taking care of the Once and Future King."

He turned back to Arthur, smiling. Arthur was gasping and sweating. Something told him that he wasn't going to be able to dodge this time… I hate magic.

"What's the point?" Merlin suddenly called from his place slumped against the wall, not bothering to get up.

That seemed to grab the sorcerer's interest. He raised Gwaine's eyebrows. He couldn't help letting his gaze flicker away from the king and to the servant.

"I mean," said Merlin purposefully, standing, but leisurely, his entire body suddenly more relaxed than he had business being, "I don't see much more point in going about your anti-destiny business if your leader is dead. I assume he is your leader. Certainly took charge. Not that it did much good." He raised the bloody knife, and then, of all the un-Merlin-like things, he gave a dark grin.

The sorcerer faltered.

Ah, so that man had been the leader. Good. Merlin liked guessing correctly.

Before the Gwaine-look-alike could recover, Merlin flickered his eyes at Arthur, and the king understood.

It wasn't very chivalrous to take advantage of a man's distraction to kill him. A true knight would never do it. Well, Arthur wasn't really feeling up to par with a strong ideal of a knight at the moment anyway. So he jumped forward and ran the sorcerer through just as another Gwaine and his "help" – Leon and Elyan – rounded the corner.

The sorcerer choked, and Gwaine's form flickered, revealing a strong man with dirty clothes rapidly becoming covered in blood.

And then Once-Gwaine fell, dead. Arthur took his sword back and staggered a bit, all his previous energy leaving him. His hand felt like he'd allowed a horse to tromp on it several times. His right arm ached heavily, too.

Merlin stumbled away from the wall, dropping the knife, wiping his own blood out of his face, and reached for Arthur.

Arthur put his sword back up, pointed straight at his servant. His eyes were dark and warning.

Merlin bit his lip, thought, and finally said, "After Morgause beat you and you went to see her, she made you put your head on a chopping block to test you. And you did."

Arthur looked almost convinced.

"And I know what the word supercilious means," Merlin added with a slight smile that was a lot more like him than the horrible grin he'd worn earlier.

Arthur put the sword down and nearly collapsed onto the ground. "Oh," he said. "It's you. I'm glad." His voice shook a little.

Merlin went towards him to help him up. Arthur shifted away from him a little, but he wasn't sure he could get up without aid, so he didn't push his servant away.

And at last Gwaine, staring at the body that had previously appeared to be his, broke right through the silence and the tension and said, "Well, that was unnerving. I hope never to see that again."

"Agreed," said Merlin, helping Arthur to his feet.

A/N: One chapter left. Just to wrap things up.