A/N: I know I said it would at least be a week, but I was itching to write this chapter, so I made time (I'll study for my last final later).

*stares at reviews page, mouth gaping open in a cartoonish, ridiculous fashion* WOW. 266 reviews. You guys are just amazing! Thank you to the reviewers for the last chapter! You guys are just wonderful. Also a big round of applause for the 56 people who have favorited this and the 91 people who have it on alert. O.O I don't know what to say, except wow and thank you! Now, on with the story, enjoy chapter 25, and please REVIEW! :D Just to let you guys know – I'm thinking this is probably going to be a 30 chapter story, give or take a few. We're in the homestretch but there's still more to come! :D

This is a rather emotional chapter. You have been warned. :) Also, no slash. Sorry, I only write friendship. ^.^ This is a long one, better hold on tight!

The Most Deadly Alliance

Chapter Twenty-Five

Arthur trudged down the deserted corridor toward his chambers, his head spinning and eyes drooping. He had just finished reporting what he could to his father about last night's events. Uther had been, for lack of a stronger term, enraged that his son had been kidnapped by sorcerers, although when Arthur had mentioned that Merlin had been taken as well, Uther simply waved it off. Irritated with his father's lack of concern for his friend and wanting Merlin to get at least a little credit since he had saved them, he had told his father that it was Merlin that had provided the distraction, nearly dying in the process, that allowed Arthur to make the final blow. To this declaration of Merlin's loyalty and bravery, Uther had given Arthur a strange look and said airily, "That's what any citizen of Camelot should be expected to do for their Prince. Let me know if he dies; we will find a replacement immediately."

His father's response had angered Arthur more than even he cared to admit, but he had pushed it back, not wanting to get into it with Uther when all he wanted to do was rest his aching head. When he heard that one of the sorcerers had disappeared before they could kill him, he had sent out patrols at once. Arthur hadn't mentioned that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been involved because he didn't want to cast any suspicion on them before he found out what exactly was going on.

Finally, after skirting around the truth while still trying to tell his father what had happened, Arthur had been sent off, saying he needed to rest, the prince had left gratefully, still seething at Uther's disregard for Merlin's health after the self-sacrificing idiot had saved them all. This mingled with worry for Merlin and disbelief of all that had occurred over the night mingled in his head, refusing him the sleep he so desperately craved even as he lay in his bed, staring up at the rich red canopy above him.

While they had been in the cave, Arthur hadn't really had much of a chance to reflect upon what had been revealed to him. Now he found himself trying to puzzle through his emotions and the events that now seemed so surreal, trying to decipher exactly how he felt about the situation and what this was going to mean for Merlin. He rolled over, gripping his head in his hands, tugging at his hair, trying to get the painful swirl of thoughts and the banging war-drums out of his aching brain. He just wanted to rest...

Merlin. A sorcerer.

He still wasn't sure he believed it, and he had seen Merlin perform several powerful spells with what seemed like considerable ease. That scared him, more than a little, because who would have ever thought that Merlin, the bumbling, babbling, stammering idiot could be capable of wielding such power? He wasn't sure what to think; all of his life he had been told that magic was evil, that it corrupted the soul.

But Merlin's soul wasn't corrupt...was it?

He snorted quietly into his pillow, the thought ludicrous. Arthur had come into contact with many people who had been corrupted and poisoned – not all by magic, some by hate, bitterness, or just the toll that life in general had taken upon them – and Merlin was certainly not one of them. In fact, the naïve innocence, the caring and selfless loyalty in those big blue eyes of his was almost childlike in its purity.

He considered, just for the shortest of moments, turning Merlin in. He had broken the law, and even if he wasn't corrupt yet, he would be eventually, right? Arthur had thrown away the foolish thought instantly, trying without success to ignore the guilt at even considering turning his friend in that washed over him. Merlin wasn't corrupt. He had no doubt that Merlin had seen hard times, and, if what had happened last night was any indication, he had been in great peril many times as well. But instead of being hardened by it, Merlin seemed to retain his goodness – and his idiocy.

What had he been thinking, letting his relationship with Arthur get in the way of escaping from the cave while he had the chance? He hadn't had to kill him, but he could have at least fought back while Arthur had pounced on him, tying him up and delivering him to the enemy. Arthur still hadn't come to terms with the guilt for betraying Merlin like that, even if he hadn't been in his right mind. Then again, maybe that hadn't happened the way Nimueh and Voldemort had said. Perhaps they had just been trying to make Arthur doubt himself. He doubted it, though. Merlin had seemed very reluctant to tell Arthur who had done that to him...

He turned to his other side, letting out a pathetic little moan – more like a whimper – that said, Please, I just want to sleep. But his mind was still spinning and he couldn't seem to make it stop long enough to let his exhausted body shut down.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

It seemed unfathomable. Arthur had to wonder what the moron had been thinking, coming to Camelot when he was studying magic. Did the idiot have no sense of self-preservation? And why, if he had that much power, had he resigned himself to be a lowly servant – to a prince who never listened to him, who ordered him around like he was a dog, who threw things at him and put him in the stocks, and who had seen Merlin's loyalty and friendship time and time again but had refused to call him "friend"...

He huffed, the force of his breath causing his soft sheets to blow forward and then fall back, tickling his nose, and allowed his mind to wander to the three visitors. He had no idea what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been thinking when they had come to Camelot under the pretense that they had escaped from a crazed sorcerer, when they were sorcerers as well. Unless...

Arthur thought about how Merlin had told Voldemort that he knew the man was after Harry, but that Harry wouldn't come... And he recalled how Voldemort's demonic red eyes had widened in sick, twisted glee when Harry had darted through the mouth of the cavern, deflecting a spell that would have killed Arthur... Perhaps they had been telling the truth, at least partially. Maybe Voldemort was the wizard that had attacked their village, that they had come to Camelot for protection from.

Whatever the case, Arthur couldn't be mad at them, even if they had lied to him. Irritated, yes – very irritated. But how could he be angry with the people that had risked their lives to save his own? He just wished he knew the truth, but until they had made sure Merlin would be alright, he supposed he was just going to have to wait, no matter how much he hated waiting. Merlin's life took priority over Arthur wanting to know what was going on.

He shifted again, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about Merlin. Surely he would be okay... He had to be... After everything that Arthur had done to save him when the selfless servant had willingly drunk that poison in his place, after everything they had been through together... There was no way that Merlin could die. In fact, it would be plain rude of him if he died, after all that Arthur had done to keep him alive...

If only that were the case. If only Arthur could march down to Gaius's chambers or wherever it was they had taken Merlin and order him to get better, not to die. He had half a mind to get up and do this that, even though he knew it was pointless. He felt wrong, like he should be by his servant's side, and lying here in his nice, fluffy bed while Merlin was possibly fighting for his life seemed to be the most selfish thing he could be doing at a time like this.

Funny, he had never thought this way, measuring his actions and attitudes, until he had met Merlin. Merlin had not hesitated to tell him off the first time they had met, and hadn't since. Slowly a friendship had begun to bloom, but Arthur had been too blinded to see it... Or too ignorant. He had known for a while that Merlin considered him a friend. And even before that, he had come to the realization that for some reason, Merlin would do anything and sacrifice anything for the prince that he claimed was so selfish and arrogant.

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

Arthur had no idea how he would react if Merlin actually died. As much as he complained about the idiot always being around, yammering away when he most needed quiet, offering advice when his ego least wanted it, and stretching out a hand to help when Arthur just wanted to do it himself, he knew that life without Merlin would be...unthinkable. Because as much as he hated to admit it, sometimes he needed that yammering to keep him focused on what was really important. Sometimes he needed the advice that Merlin gave him, even if he refused to heed it at the time it was given. And sometimes he was sinking so much in his duties, his life, his emotions and doubts, that he would have drowned in the stress if it wasn't for that ever-loyal hand, extended in an offer to help and in friendship.

He needed Merlin. Merlin kept his priorities straight, was always willing (sometimes too willing) to tell exactly what he thought about a situation, and he always, always, wanted to help. He was a bumbling idiot, yes, but sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes he was scarily wise and much too loyal. If he died, if Arthur never saw that dopey grin again, if he never heard that senseless prattle, if he never got a chance to find out just why Merlin stayed in Camelot as Arthur's servant when he would have been so much safer somewhere else...

No. He wasn't going to think like that. Merlin was going to be fine. He was going to survive, and he was going to tell Arthur everything, and then Arthur would give him so many chores for keeping this from him that he'd never finish them, even with magic.

Struck with a sudden urge – more of a need, actually – to see Merlin, to find out how he was doing, Arthur all but leaped out of bed, throwing his covers aside. His feet slapped the cold floor with an urgency as he hurried across his chambers, determined to make sure that Ron, Harry, and Hermione had gotten Merlin back to Camelot safely, and find out where they were, and, most importantly, to make see how Merlin was doing.

He flung open his door and stopped short, convinced that he was finally losing it after all the stress, after everything that had happened, and that he was seeing things.

Standing on the other side of his door, hair disheveled and a loose bandage visible beneath the hole in his shirt, was Merlin, fist poised to knock.

When he spoke, his voice came out much weaker than he would have liked, but he found that he didn't really care. "Merlin?"

Harry bit his lip, his had balled in a fist, poised to knock on the door, but not having worked up the nerve yet. He took a quick glance over either shoulder, ensuring that he was still alone. Ron and Hermione had gone to Gaius, to tell the old physician everything that had happened and to let him know that Merlin was going to Hogwarts with them, for a little while, at least, lest he die. Harry had opted to stay behind, saying that he needed some time alone to think. But that's not what he wanted.

In fact, he wanted anything else than to be alone. But there was only one person he wanted to talk to right now, and he was too much of a chicken to even knock on her door. He cursed silently, thinking that he was being an idiot and that he should walk away before he ended up making a fool of himself, or, worse, making her even angrier than she already was.

He had a feeling that Hermione had known what he was up to as his friend had given him a long, warning look before they had parted ways, but she hadn't tried to stop him. Maybe she knew that Harry had to have closure; that he couldn't leave forever without making things right between the two of them. He knew he shouldn't care so much – after all, she was a figure of the past, someone that, in his time, had been dead for thousands of years. But here, she wasn't just a person of legend. She was more than that, so much more. And despite everything that Hermione had said, and what the legends said about her, Harry wasn't prepared to give her up as a lost cause.

Taking a deep breath, Harry told himself to stop being such a baby. He had just helped defeat Nimueh, high priestess of the Old Religion, but he couldn't work up the guts to talk to a girl? He grimaced at how pathetic that sounded. Yep, that pretty much summed it up. He squinted his eyes shut, let out the breath, and knocked on her door.

The second he did, he regretted it. How stupid could he be? The sun was just now beginning to rise; she would be asleep. What was he thinking, coming here? She was probably still angry at him for so obviously lying to her. Maybe if he started to run, he could be around the corner and out of sight by the time she opened the door...

Click.

Too late. He groaned inwardly, his stomach tying itself in knot after stinking knot. His heart started thudding as the door swung open, revealing her. Dressed in a cream nightdress, a dark purple robe over the material that hung loosely from her body. Black hair, slightly mussed, framed that heart-shaped face, setting off the beauty of her perfect porcelain skin in the flickering candelabras lining the walls. Her gray eyes were tired and confused, dark circles under them, but somehow they only served to make her more breathtaking. Her perfect, soft lips (just looking at them, he could feel the gentle brush of her mouth against his and his heart took to doing a frantic jig as if it had just been hit with the Tarantellegra curse) were parted just lightly as she stared at him in surprise.

"Harry." Her melodious voice was cold and Harry couldn't blame her. She stood imposingly in her doorway, leaning on the frame, arms crossed defiantly across her chest and eyebrows frowning in disapproval. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be ignoring the danger your friends are in and getting on with your happy life?"

Harry cleared his throat. Well, this is going about as well as I expected, he thought. Somehow, that realization didn't make him feel any better. "Uh..." he stammered stupidly, "could I...come in? If someone were to see me standing at your doorway, they could get the wrong impression and I'd get into trouble..." He trailed off, feeling like a complete fool.

Apparently Morgana was thinking along the same lines as she raised one pencil-thin eyebrow and said haughtily, "I fail to see the problem." But she opened her door wider and let Harry in anyway. He slid through the door and stood awkwardly as she closed it behind them, now leaning her back against the door and staring at him expectantly. "Well?" she snapped, the frustration and worry still evident in her eyes and voice.

Harry cleared his throat. "I...just thought I would let you know that Merlin and Arthur are okay," he said, wanting to set her mind at ease.

Harry could tell that Morgana wanted to keep up her angry and uncaring facade, but the news that her friends were alive clearly made her irritation melt into relief. "Thank God," she breathed. "How do you know?"

Harry swung his left hand out and let it slap against the side of his leg, nervous. He knew that what he was about to tell Morgana was more than likely going to set her off again. She was still waiting, so Harry replied, "You...er...were right, Morgana. They were in danger. We knew that they were, at least had a pretty good idea of what was going on, before you came to get us, but we didn't want to let you know because we knew you'd want to come along, and it was going to be dangerous and we couldn't risk putting you in that kind of trouble, I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you, but we thought you'd be safer that way..." He said all this very fast, not meeting her eyes. It wasn't the complete truth, considering their main motivation for not telling her was because Hermione didn't trust her, but Morgana didn't need to know that.

He felt her eyes boring into him and he looked up, surprised to see that amongst the frustration, there lingered a hint of a smile. "You...were worried about me?" she asked softly.

Harry cleared his throat, beginning to like where this was going. "We all were," he admitted. Well, he and Ron had been, at least. "We didn't want anything happening to you."

Morgana rolled her eyes and irritation flickered across her beautiful face again. Harry fought the urge to take a few steps back. I can't show that I'm intimidated, he thought, then gulped. But what if she can SMELL my fear? It was a stupid, fleeting thought, but the unhappiness she was displaying rather unnerved him. "You shouldn't have been," she fumed. "I'm a big girl, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've bested Arthur in a couple sword fights before; I can certainly handle danger. You had no right to lie to me, Harry Potter!" Her voice was angry but also resigned to the fact that every male she would ever come in contact with would try to coddle her and shield her when she was independent and wanted to take care of herself.

"I'm sorry," he said, his brain whirring at a hundred miles an hour as an idea formed in his mind. He knew that Hermione wouldn't approve, but they'd more than likely already screwed up the past and future beyond repair, and they were going to leave in less than an hour, never to return. Morgana needed someone who understood at least a little that she was going through. Coming to a decision, his heart fluttering nervously, Harry said, "The main reason we didn't let you know, Morgana, was because it was a magical threat. And you don't know magic..." He breathed deeply. There was no turning back now. "But I do."

Merlin stood uncomfortably in Arthur's doorway as Arthur gaped at him. "Merlin!" Arthur repeated, sounding surprised, relieved, and (as he always did when addressing his servant) a bit annoyed. "What are you doing here?''

Merlin chuckled, his right hand unconsciously clutching his wound as if trying to protect it from harm. "I thought you wanted to talk with me."

Arthur couldn't believe what a complete idiot Merlin was. He had distinctly told Harry, Ron, and Hermione that Merlin was to be well before they had their talk. Heaven forbid they be in the middle of an important conversation and Merlin pass out in the middle of it. By the young man's pallid complexion and the thin sheen of sweat that glossed over his face, coupled with the way he kept his hand over the wound protectively, showed that he was anything but recovered. Leave it to Merlin to start running around the castle right after regaining consciousness.

Glaring at Merlin, trying his best to keep the relief that Merlin was at least awake and definitely not dead, Arthur looked the servant up and down and said, "You weren't supposed to come speak to me until you were well, Merlin." He gestured at Merlin, who was trying his best to make it look like he was not supporting himself with the door frame. "Are you well, Merlin?"

Merlin made a pathetic attempt at one of his signature goofy grins that made Arthur wonder if the powerful sorcerer he had witnessed in the cave hadn't been someone who simply looked like Merlin. Rolling his eyes – that seemed to be something that a person couldn't spend five minutes around Merlin without doing; if Arthur wound up with permanent eye damage from all the eye-rolling, Merlin would certainly have hell to pay – he grasped Merlin's arm in his strong hand, surprised at just how thin and frail it felt. He guided Merlin over to his table and gently pushed him into a chair before opting to sit in one right beside Merlin instead of across the table. He felt a need to be close to his friend, if only to assure himself that Merlin really was there.

"Well, Merlin, you haven't answered my question," Arthur said in a falsely cheery voice, still shaken up by how pale, weak, and helpless Merlin looked. It scared him more than he liked to admit, especially after seeing how strong Merlin had been in the cave when performing magic. It was a frightening prospect to see someone that powerful – he still choked over using the words "Merlin" and "powerful" in the same sentence, even in his mind – reduced to someone this helpless…It was more than a bit shaking for the prince. "Are you well?"

Merlin shrugged self-consciously, wincing as he did so. Arthur fought the urge to smack Merlin on the back of the head for his sheer stupidity. "I had to talk to you," Merlin said simply, raising his blue eyes to meet Arthur's. "As soon as possible. Just in case…" He trailed off, biting his lower lip and looking as if he wished he hadn't said anything at all.

Arthur felt a wave of dread wash over him. What was Merlin talking about? In case of what? He was going to be fine; he was sitting here, albeit a bit pale and pathetic looking, but this was Merlin he was talking about, and the man was pale and pathetic to begin with. Arthur felt that tickle of fear grow when he watched Merlin fiddle with the hem of his jacket, refusing to meet his master's eyes.

"Merlin." Merlin looked up, eyes filled with regret. "What are you talking about? Just in case what? You're going to be okay. You're already on your way to recovery."

Merlin sighed and Arthur felt the worry grow tenfold. "Arthur, there's a lot to tell you," his servant said, "and I have to meet Ron, Harry, and Hermione in an hour."

Arthur hadn't expected this; he wanted to shake Merlin until the stubborn idiot told him what he had been talking about before. He had this gnawing feeling that there was something the warlock wasn't telling him and he was desperate to know what it was, because whatever Merlin was keeping from him, it was dreadfully important. Arthur couldn't tell how he knew. He just…knew.

Sighing, he knew that it wouldn't improve Merlin's condition if he shook the manservant, so he let out an exaggerated sigh and waving a dismissive hand in surrender, ordered, "Start at the beginning."

Morgana stared at Harry, sure she had heard him wrong. He had magic? Even more than that, he had just admitted to the King's ward that he possessed magic? He either had a lot of faith in her or was the dumbest person she had ever encountered (and she had met a lot of idiots in her time). Studying his thin face, those expressive and intelligent green eyes, and that thin, lightening shaped scar, she knew that this wasn't the face of a dumb person. It was the face of a boy that cared, someone who wanted to make a difference in the world, someone who would give up everything for those he cared about…

Someone that reminded her eerily of herself.

Her voice faltering slightly, she whispered (for one always spoke of magic in whispers whilst in Camelot), "You have magic?"

Harry nodded. "I didn't want to tell you before, but I didn't know how you'd react."

Morgana thought about this for a moment. Yes. It made sense. She had felt some sort of power, some sort of connection when she had first seen Harry. There was something about him that was mysterious and wonderful, something that she hadn't been able to put her finger on but wanted to understand more than anything else in the world. And finally, she did.

Suddenly eager to learn more, she said, "Show me."

Harry looked startled and a bit unnerved. "What?"

Morgana laughed quietly, enjoying the look of bewilderment on the wizard's face – he deserved it for not telling her earlier. "Magic," she breathed. "Can you show me?"

Harry grimaced and looked over his shoulder, although all that lay behind him was Morgana's bed, her changing screen, and a window that looked out over a stunning view of the Darkling Woods. They were alone. "Here?" he asked. "But if I get caught…" He let the sentence hang in the air, knowing very well that he would not be caught.

Morgana smiled patronizingly, "Then I will have to think up a way to help you escape from our dungeons," she answered teasingly. "It's not that hard – almost everyone escapes from our dungeons. Some of the guards have told Uther that we need to do some renovations if we actually want to keep people in, but of course he never listens to anyone."

Smiling in return, Harry withdrew his wand, which Morgana eyed with interest. "Avis," he said, pointing the wand a little to the left of Morgana, who gasped in delight when three little bluebirds flittered into existence from the tip of the wand.

"They're so cute!" she giggled, reaching out to touch one, caressing its little head with her delicate, pale fingers and the bird tittered with delight. As Harry walked over to the window and opened it, allowing the conjured birds to flutter out of the room when they wanted, Morgana frowned thoughtfully. "If Uther saw something like this, he would have you executed," she mused. "Yet the beauty, the stunning purity of this…It's simply incredible." She shook her head. "It must be sad to be that bitter, to look at something so wonderful and only see evil, to look at something so exquisite and only register hate."

Harry nodded distractedly. He noticed that they had moved a bit closer and his heart, which had finally calmed down somewhat, started back its rabid charge, thudding against his ribcage like a blast-ended screwt stupidly bashing itself into a wall. Morgana slowly, hesitantly, took Harry's hand and he swallowed, looking into her expressive, gorgeous gray eyes. She really was beautiful…

"Harry," the girl said, stepping closer, "since you have magic, can you tell me… is that what these nightmares are? Do I have magic? Please, I need to know."

Merlin had been talking for nearly forty-five minutes, explaining to Arthur how he had come to Camelot on his mother's insistence to seek out Gaius as a mentor because he could not fit in while living in Ealdor. He told Arthur about how he had been called by a dragon that lived in a cave beneath the castle (which had shocked Arthur – he was living on top of a bloody dragon?), who had told him that his destiny was to protect Arthur, the "once and future king," and prepare him to become the king that would bring magic back to Camelot and unite the land of Albion, at which point Arthur had interrupted, much to Merlin's annoyance – the pain in his chest grew steadily worse and he knew he was getting weaker by the second; he had really hoped to spit it all out but he should have known that Arthur would have lots of questions – and comments).

"Protect me?" Arthur blanched, eyes wide. "You've been protecting me? Like when?"

Merlin had rolled his eyes, covering a wince as he felt a sharp spasm shoot through his torso. "Let's see… how about tonight, when I shielded you from Nimueh and Voldemort? Of course, you knew I saved you from the old woman impersonating Lady Helen, that's why I now have the lovely job of cleaning up after your royal messiness, but you probably didn't realize that I used magic to save you then. I was the one who revealed the snakes in Valiant's shield when he tried to kill you, I made the fire that helped destroy the Avank, I sent the light to guide you in the caves when you were on the quest to get the flower to save me –"

Arthur had stared at him, a mixture of awe and confusion in his eyes. "But…you were sick," he protested. "Unconscious, weak, and delirious – that's what Gaius said. You were so weak…how did you do that?"

Merlin had shrugged. "I don't know. But Arthur, you should know – there are prophecies about you being the once and future king, but the Druids have prophecies about me."

Arthur had looked at his friend in interested. "The Druids? Like the boy, Mordred, we saved?"

Merlin had fought back nausea, remembering the other prophecies that had almost hindered Merlin from coming to the child's aid – the prophecies that stated Mordred would be the one to ultimately kill Arthur. He had forced the horrible thought out of his mind and nodded, answering blandly, "Yes. In their prophecies, I am Emrys, and I am destined to become the most powerful warlock of all time." He paused. "In fact, I – as well as you, actually – go down in history and people even as far as thousands of years in the future know who we are."

Arthur had given him a funny look. "And how, Merlin," he had asked, sounding much more like his normally pratty self, "would you know that?"

This is the question that Merlin was now faced with, his breathing getting heavier along with his eyelids, wanting nothing more than to give in to sleep and be free from the pain of the wound. He knew that Arthur was going to react badly when he found out that Merlin was still dying and that instead of immediately getting treatment, he was here talking to Arthur, but Merlin had had to talk to him. He sighed. "Because Ron, Harry, and Hermione told me." Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn't speak, a sign for Merlin to continue. "They're…from the future?" he finished hesitantly, wondering how much convincing he was going to have to do to get Arthur to believe him so that they could move on to more pressing issues (issues that he figured would probably get him yelled at for being so negligent when it came to his own health).

To his great surprise, Arthur didn't argue, he simply rubbed his chin thoughtfully, chuckling. "I should have known…I knew there was something off about the lot of them…"

Merlin stared. "You believe me?" Arthur nodded. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

Arthur paused, grinned deviously, and responded, "That's not a fair question, Merlin. Yes, I think you're crazy, but for other reasons entirely." Merlin laughed, not even pretending to be offended. This is the way it should be between us. "After everything I've witnessed in the past twelve hours, I'd say that bloody well anything is possible. Besides, you've been so open and honest with me, Merlin. You've told me things that would see you executed."

Merlin felt his heart tighten momentarily, although he wasn't sure if it was from the sudden surge of fear that bolted through him or the wound. "You're not going to…?" he trailed off, knowing that he was asking too much of the prince.

Arthur looked offended, even a bit angry. "You really are a complete idiot, Merlin. Of course I'm not going to hand you into my father. After everything you've told me that you've done for me…if anything, I should be thanking you."

Merlin grinned, setting aside his own urgency for a second to see Arthur squirm. "So why don't you?" he asked, his eyes wide and oh-so-innocent.

Arthur regarded him for a second. "Why don't I what?"

"Thank me."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "I just did," he responded.

Merlin laughed. "No, you didn't. You told me that you should say thank you. You never actually did."

Arthur fixed Merlin with a dangerous glare. "Merlin?"

Merlin chuckled, getting the point. "Shut. Up."

Then a sharp spasm of pain overtook him, blinding him for several seconds. He felt himself falling, heard a shout, and then…nothing.

A/N: Am I evil? Maybe. Heehee…Sorry to leave you with another cliffie. You'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out what Harry reveals to Morgana and what's going to happen to Merlin. But you know how to make it come faster? Review, because when I get reviews, they encourage me to stop lollygagging and write FASTER! I'm seriously not one of those authors that tries to blackmail readers into reviewing (and I hate when people do that), but reviews are what inspire me to get my lazy butt in gear, so there seems to be a bit of a positive correlation there. :P So let me know what you think, and I should definitely have chapter 26 up within the week (Christmas break starts Tuesday for me; much more writing time, yay!). So please REVIEW and I'll update soon! ;o)

~Emachinescat ^..^