Leon blinked at blurry yellow and orange flickering a few a feet away and strained his muddled hearing. He heard...screaming? He rotated his jaw and stretched his lips. He wasn't the source, though he should have been. The bandits and mercenaries had been as brutal as he'd presumed. They'd asked no questions, just taken out their anger on a despised Camelot knight. The bandits had been the worst. With Arthur gone, all the wickedness within them held in check by the Pendragons had been released to punish those who'd dared participate in its subduing.

Leon shuddered and grit his teeth against a whimper. For some reason, those who'd been pummeling him had retreated, leaving him incapacitated on the ground next to the camp's fire. He couldn't lift a finger. Wouldn't have mattered anyway. They'd be back for more. Nothing less than his death would satisfy them in the end. At least I'll die for Arthur, his thoughts comforted him. If he'd died for Uther he would have regretted much more when his life passed before his eyes as he stepped beyond the veil.

The earth shook. Leon's right ear pressed into the ground caught the pounding of booted feet. More fuzzy shouting. And then...hands grasping his neck. He stiffened, bracing for another punch or cut. His fringe was shoved back and he was propped against someone. Water touched his lips.

He drank. Not too much, though. Multiple punches had twisted his guts. He'd spew it all if he wasn't careful.

A voice called to him as through water. He widened one swollen eyelid. She was backlit against the fire, relief flooding her features when their eyes locked.

"Your majesty," he slurred. "Told you to go."

"I went, Sir Leon. You didn't believe I'd also return?"

Soldiers in armor etched with the symbol of Nemeth appeared behind her. He cracked his other eyelid, peering at the camp creeping with pre-dawn fog. Forms lay sprawled out on the ground beyond the flames. "You got them."

"No, we did not." Mithian peered at him in confusion. "I thought you could inform us what happened."

Leon closed his eyes, attempting to think. All he could remember was taunting and cursing... punching and piercing and slashing. He'd been beaten and broken to within an inch of his life. That's what had happened.

"You fled only yesterday, your majesty," a man's voice mused. "But the enemy appears to have perished days ago!"

"Sir Leon?" A gentle hand patted his cheek. He peered through slits at Mithian again. "Did they have a sorcerer with them?"

"No." At least, not as far as he knew.

"This can only be magic," the voice spoke again, the knight standing closest to the queen.

"Your majesty!" Two soldiers forced a form to kneel on level with Mithian. A mercenary cowered, shaking uncontrollably. One of the soldiers gripped the man's neck so he'd look at their queen head on. "Speak! Tell her what has happened here."

"W-women. D-dead."

Mithian frowned. "I have seen no women in your number."

"S-spirits. Eating..." The man whimpered and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Spirits," Mithian echoed. A shrill scream in the distance punctuated her statement.

The mercenary's eyes flicked open and he clawed at her. "Mercy!" A solider ripped him away from the queen.

Figures emerged from the fog—wispy, flowing, ethereal, staring with dead white eyes.

"Your majesty!" the knight shouted, beginning to unsheathe his sword.

"Be still!" Mithian commanded. Her men drew close to her, surrounding the fire.

Seconds passed. The dead women floated just out of range of the firelight. Then a beam of sun broke the horizon, shooting across the camp. The spirits opened their mouths impossibly wide, shrieking. Leon cringed as Mithian and the knights covered their ears. In moments, the dead were gone, swallowed up by the surrounding woods.

Gaius dragged his feet up spiraling steps. When he reached a landing, he stumbled ahead only a fraction of the hallway before slumping against a wall. Alice appeared in front of him, chest rising and falling in an unsteady cadence. He straightened and unfolded his arms. She fell into him and he held her close, resting his chin on the crown of her head as he once did so long ago.

"Nothing worked," she mumbled into his neck.

"It's dark magic." He felt her nod. He kept silent for a time, reluctant to disturb the comforting warmth of her body nestled into his. Eventually, he forced his tongue to speak. "We've seen this before."

Alice lifted her head and he looked down into hardened features. "It isn't Morgause."

"Alice." Her name was a soft reprimand. "She was trained on the isle."

"She wouldn't desecrate the veil."

"She would if she thought it would accomplish her intentions. What is her plan?" Alice looked away. Gaius laid two fingers on her cheek, turning her gaze back to him. "Innocent are dying! Tell me what she means to do!"

Alice broke away from him. "She didn't mention this." All last night they'd tried to help those felled by ghosts. Not one victim had survived and the grand hall's floor was littered with corpses.

"She hid the truth from you," Gaius realized. Unfortunately, he understood. Morgause had been betrayed most of her life. Uther had committed adultery with her mother, threatened to kill her, and she'd been forced to a sequestered life amongst the priestesses. Then her life had been upended again when the priestesses were killed and their isle demolished. Why would she trust her plans to anyone?

"She only said she'd let Cenred take Camelot and then she'd recover it for us. Magic would be completely free."

"How could you think she wouldn't kill? How many did she let Cenred kill?"

"I thought a few unfortunate casualties worth the cost."

Gaius pushed off the wall, shuffling down the hall to the door to the physician's quarters, too saddened and tired to argue anymore.

"Sometimes pain has to occur for the patient to be made healthy," Alice spoke after him. He didn't answer, pushing the door open to step inside.

"Gaius!"

He pulled up short when a dark haired girl threw herself at him, embracing him in desperation.

"Who is this?" Alice asked from behind him.

"You have to save him, Gaius! Please!"

Gaius gently untangled himself from the girl, then wiped at her tears and cupped her cheeks. "Balinor already sent me a message through Nero. I'm coming. He didn't say he'd send you, but I'll be glad for the easier transport."

"He didn't send me," Freya said. "You're the only one I know who can help him."

"I can't help him," Gaius replied, turning to Alice. "But she may be able to."

"Who is this, Gaius?" Alice repeated. "And who do you wish me to help?"

"My other patient. The lamia bite." Gaius stepped up close to Alice, clasping both of her hands in his. "You can trust me. Come with me. Use your skill to save a life. If you remain here, you will only watch more die every night."

"It's not that easy. I can't abandon..."

Boots sounded from the hall, clamoring up the stairs and hitting the hall.

"Hide!" Gaius cried to Freya. The girl ran for Merlin's old room, shutting the door behind her. Gaius squeeze Alice's hands tightly. "Vow not to mention her!"

"Gaius."

"Swear to me!"

"I will not reveal her," Alice said, right before half a dozen soldiers burst into the room. One of them pushed Alice out of the way and shoved Gaius to the ground. King Cenred entered, stomping towards them, hand raised. Gaius barely had time to brace himself before a sharp slap shot through the room.

"My lord!" Alice shouted.

"Shut up, witch, if you value your life. I'm assuming you had nothing to do with this, but I can change my mind."

Gaius craned his neck to regard the king, flinching at the roaring pain in his cheek. "S-sire," he forced out.

"I'm not your king. I never have been. You're in with them. The rebels."

"Sire. I am loyal."

The soldiers parted for two knights hauling a limp form. They threw the man in their clutches in front of the king.

"Caught him," Cenred crowed. "The leader. He gave you up." He kicked at the body and it rolled over.

Gaius schooled his response as he beheld Geoffrey's battered face.

"You did this!" Cenred shouted, yanking Gaius up by his collar and screaming into his face. "You cursed my reign! Get rid of these spirits or face the block!"

"I did nothing," Gaius answered far more calmly than he felt. "Do you not see Morgause's hand in this? She would not let you have this kingdom. She wants it for her own."

"Liar!" Cenred shouted, throwing him at the soldiers. "Take him! And this one, too. Get them out of my sight!"

Geoffrey was dragged along behind as soldiers pulled Gaius to the door. Gaius heard the last words from Cenred as they hit the threshold.

"Say your prayers, physician. As soon as the tools are ready, I'll force the confession straight from your mouth with my own hand."

Crunching behind Arthur alerted him to another presence, but he didn't look up from his place beside Merlin. He'd expected someone to show up but had no desire to face expressions of pity or even worse, arguments against a choice that had taken his entire will to enact.

"Arnott spoke to me."

Arthur clenched his jaw. Lancelot. Of course.

"He informed me my name has been included on a list of men being considered for kingship."

At least Arnott had seen sense and carried out his wishes. Arthur drew in a long breath before speaking. "You're a good man. I'd have made him add you if he hadn't when he returned to me." He braced himself. Lancelot wouldn't leave this here. He'd argue and rail.

Steps crunched some more and a hand ringed itself around his left bicep, yanking upwards. He stumbled into his friend as he was pulled upright and dragged away from Merlin.

"Lancelot!"

"I need you to come with me."

Arthur pulled and uselessly fought at Lancelot's firm hold with his weak right hand. "I won't discuss this."

"You can kept silent and just listen."

They reached a more populated part of the cavern and Arthur stopped struggling, all too aware gossip would run rampant at the sight of Camelot's current king being hauled around like a child. Lancelot directed Arthur towards the more private area of the cavern he used for defense training. Several people waited there, eyes already honed on him. Gwen's flashing gaze was the first he met, but her barely concealed anger was too uncomfortable for him so he quickly moved on to Morgana standing next to her. His sister's expression was clouded and he couldn't quite determine what she must be feeling. Gwaine was here, too, and Percival. Nimueh perched behind them on a rocky slab and Aglain stood next to her. He hadn't realized the Druid had returned. And then there was Arnott, who dropped his eyes when Arthur's gaze fell on him. It seemed the councilor wasn't being as amenable as he presumed.

Lancelot released his arm and took up a position behind him like a guard preventing flight. "He said he doesn't want to talk so he's going to listen."

Arthur shot Lancelot a withering gaze over his shoulder.

"You really did think I was useless, didn't you?" a scathing reprimand struck him. Arthur turned back to face Gwen whose hands were balled into fists at her side. "When I lost the use of my arm, you must have truly thought me useless because when you lose the same you decide you can't be king anymore."

Arthur resisted a roll of his eyes. This was how they were going to convince him he was wrong? "Our circumstances aren't nearly the same."

"I thought I was nothing. You tried to tell me I was. You lied to me, Arthur."

Arthur scanned the other faces present and shifted his weight. This really shouldn't be a public conversation. "I didn't lie," he spoke quietly.

"You're lying to yourself!" Gwen's rebuttal was loud and Morgana laid a hand on her shoulder, then speared him with her own admonishing gaze.

"It's abandonment, Arthur," she spoke in a steady, measured tone. "Four months into your reign and you decide to give up?"

Arthur nailed Arnott with a hard gaze. "Have you explained this to them?"

Arnott hardly raised his head. "They are aware of your reasoning, sire."

"And it's cow's balls." Gwaine planted his hands on his hips and shook his head at Arthur like he was an imbecilic ignoramus. "You think Merlin wants you to give up your kingdom because of him? I thought you actually had brains, mate."

"Merlin would tell you not to do this," Percival confirmed in his blunt, staid way.

Arthur had expected many wouldn't understand his decision, but it was still his decision. "Merlin probably would, but Merlin doesn't understand. None of you do. You don't know what it's like to be king. Our people need someone capable and better than I am. I've given my orders and they will be followed." Arthur turned on his heel, but Lancelot stood in his way. The disappointment in the man's eyes was enough to slow him until another spoke up.

"Arthur Pendragon." The hoarse address was a strict command. Arthur looked back to find Nimueh rising from her seat and stalking towards him. Great. The others made way for her and she stopped in the middle of their rough circle. Arthur steeled himself for senseless berating and began conjuring arguments he could use against her. "I fled and your father destroyed me."

Arthur had already opened his mouth to cut her off when her unexpected words arrested him.

"Uther murdered my husband, my sister. My children. The day I heard of his violence, I began a return to the Isle to gather the priestesses and raze all of Camelot to the ground." Nimueh's eyes were wild, almost living flame, and Arthur forced himself not to back away. "But my son's voice would not leave me! He whispered in my ear a plea, begging me to forgive. I could not forgive, but I could not betray his memory. I stayed my hand. I went mad staying my hand. Years of fury and impotency fighting the will of my own son!"

She raised her hand and pointed at Arthur. "I finally defeated his voice and implemented my glorious plan to demolish Uther Pendragon, to take his life and that of his heir. I wanted you dead...and then a child warlock appeared on my doorstep and his voice..." Her hand shook. "It echoed my son's. Compassion, kindness, love. And it pled for you."

Nimueh spread her hands wide. "These gathered here, something in you makes them love you. They have made you their foundation and you break the trust they stand upon. Go, Arthur Pendragon. Leave them. But be warned. You will go mad as I did when you watch all around you fall."

She lowered her arms, beginning to slump forward, but Gwen had already run to her, wrapping an arm of support around her. The maid's dark eyes fell on him, glazed with tears.

"It's you we follow," Lancelot spoke from behind him. "It's you Camelot follows. Leave us and Camelot will crumble, Arthur."

Pain flared in Arthur's right hand as he attempted to clench a fist. He'd made his decision. He'd thrown off his burdens. He couldn't do this anymore!

"The Druids took a step of faith because of you, my king." Aglain strode forward past Nimueh to stop in front of him. "If you deny your kingship, you will lose many, and you need us, especially now."

Arthur swallowed hard. "You must understand..."

"There's a witch," Aglain continued, ignoring Arthur's attempt to explain. "Worse than Morgause. Worse than Cenred. What she will do to Camelot will be beyond anything you have imagined. She will damn your kingdom to hell."

Fear spiked within Arthur and a stab of annoyance. A new threat? Now?

"We call her the Dochraid. I found her, sire. She yet lives and untamed evil dwells in her. I believe she is the true threat and if you leave, Nimueh is correct. You will watch Camelot perish in smoke and ashes."

If the words had come from anyone else, Arthur would have thought them exaggerated to shock him out of his decision, but this man had always been entirely sincere with him.

"Even so, I don't know if Camelot will survive. It barely did the first time."

Arthur's brow creased. The first time?

"King Arthur! My king!"

Arthur turned at the call, relieved to break eye contact with Aglain to face the man running towards them, the farmer Lancelot had put in charge of some of their band, Nab.

"Villagers, sire! Wounded."

Arthur's stomach flipped. He didn't want this anymore. He couldn't do this. But he did, putting one foot in front of another until he'd followed Nab to the entrance of their cave. A small group of dirty peasants waited surrounded by knights. One of them held the limp body of a child.

"My lord!" a woman cried. "Save us!"

"Was this Cenred?" Arthur asked one of his knights.

"My lord, they say...ghosts killed all but these five in their village."

"There are six," Arthur noted quietly.

Aglain stepped around him to pull back the blanket covering the child's face. When he looked back at Arthur his eyes were wide with a startling fear Arthur had never beheld on the man's face. "She already begins."

Arthur's feet dragged like lead as he forced himself next to Aglain and stared down at the child—a little girl, bloodless, white, eyes frozen open in stark terror.

"The veil," Nimueh hissed from behind him. "The foolish girl!"

Arthur whipped around. "What do you mean?"

"The Dochraid has a friend. You have two witches on your hands, Arthur Pendragon. And this..." She gestured at the dead child. "Your weak arm will not matter. Spirits do not fear the sword."

Frustrated tears pricked the corners of Arthur's eyes. "Then what can I even do?"

"Get me there to stop her."

Mordred sat cross-legged, leaning against the arch of the courtyard on the Isle of the Blessed. He hadn't budged since Morgause had called forth the spirits of the dead. The priestesses had been terrifying—and exhilarating. The dead could live. The Druids had always spoken against Necromancy but now that he had seen spirits rise with his own eyes...

Mordred pushed back his sleeve, revealing the red and raw skin of the cursed rune. He hadn't been thinking much when he'd carved it. He'd only meant to display the depth of his commitment. No one else had been able to halt the Pendragons completely, not Alvarr, not Cenred, not even Morgause as yet.

"Mother," Mordred whispered. He wished for sleepy oblivion but daren't close his eyes. Every time his lids shuttered his mother appeared, her kind expression warping into revulsion at what he'd done to himself.

"You stayed here all night." Morgause materialized beside him in the archway. "Go inside."

Mordred stared into the courtyard, swallowing against a dry mouth and speaking quietly. "Do it again."

"Do what?"

"Tear the veil."

"You want to see her, don't you? Your mother."

Mordred whipped his gaze to her. "Do it."

"I understand what you want, but even if I could, she wouldn't be who you remember. Calling spirits back...twists them."

Mordred rose. "Do it anyway."

"The last blessed coin has been used. There is no other way to enact a calling."

Mordred's breath stung his lungs. He strode to the altar that still contained the body of its victim. Morgause had explained it had to stay until the spirits returned from their mission. He shot a glare at the sorceress, then held out his hand, chanting. The coin lodged in the courtyard tile wiggled free, zinging into his grasp.

"What are you doing?" Morgause questioned. When he plunged the coin into the sticky blood, she shouted, "Stop!" Before she could take a step, he drew on his magic, the magic harbored within himself and her. Morgause gasped and he screamed.

The stone under Mordred's feet rocked and his ears rang. He kept screaming, wallowing in the painful pressure, letting it build until it cracked through his brain. Then he threw himself to his knees and slammed his palms into stone. The tile cleaved once more, bursting into puffs of demolished stone. His sight burned golden. He repeated Morgause's spell.

A thin mist seeped out of the stone, stretching into the air before him, molding into a familiar shape. The vapor formed a face, not solid like the spirits of the priestesses had been, but distinguishable nonetheless. He jumped up, his heart pounding. "Mother."

Her gaze fixed on him, shadowed with horror.

Mordred held up his arm etched with the rune. "This is justice for you. Please understand. This is for you."
Her head swiveled slowly back and forth.

"They killed you," Mordred said, his voice growing frantic. "They took you away. I had to do this."

His fingers came within inches of the spirit, but it drew away from him.

"Mother, please!"

The spirit's mouth opened, emitting a barely audible whisper. "Nooo..." Mordred lunged to grasp the spirit... His hand passed through vapor and the mist fled back into the earth. He collapsed to all fours, clawing at dirt and broken stone.

"Come back! Please come back!"

Light drops pattered against his hair and clothes, the morning clouds pouring forth tears. Morgause's boots stumbled up to him and she spoke breathlessly in awe. "You can call up the dead with your scream. Do you know what this means?"

Mordred didn't know nor did he care. He stopped digging and crumbled, weeping into his bloody hands.

The head resting atop Gaius' thigh stirred. The physician opened his eyes. He hadn't slept a wink. He'd always been fairly good at gauging time and he estimated at least a couple hours had passed since he'd been tossed into a dirty cell without window or cot. He peered down at Geoffrey coming to. He hadn't had access to water or medical supplies, so he'd done the best he could to tend the man, ripping cloth from his own robe and securing it round the librarian's head.

"Welcome back, old friend."

Geoffrey blinked up at him. "Gaius?"

"You told Cenred you were the leader?" Gaius asked, raising an eyebrow.

Geoffrey fingered the bandage on his brow. "They almost caught Elyan. I stopped running."

"You gave yourself up." Gaius laid a gentle hand on the librarian's shoulder, patting it. "Brave fool."

Geoffrey huffed a short laugh, then groaned.

"Cenred said you gave me up."

Geoffrey frowned at him. "Gave you...I didn't even mention you."

Gaius smiled. "It was a bluff. I supposed it was. He's blaming me for the rising of the dead and the death of his subjects."

"You?" Geoffrey pushed up onto his elbows and Gaius supported him by the arm as the man sat up next to him.

"He's suspected me all this time, I assume. This is an opportunity to do away with me."

"He'll execute you," Geoffrey spoke with dawning realization.

Gaius huffed. "Torture first, apparently. To gain my confession."

"He cannot."

"Oh he can. He will." Gaius rubbed at his eyes. "You will die, too, my friend. You knew that."

Geoffrey slowly nodded. "I knew." The librarian leaned back against the cell wall. "So this is our end."

"We lived well enough," Gaius spoke softly. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he placed a determined hand on Geoffrey's shoulder. "And we can choose the mode of our end."

Geoffrey's eyebrows dipped. "Gaius?"

Gaius' hand trembled as he unfolded it to reveal another strip of cloth torn from his robe. "I wish I were stronger, old friend, but I don't know what I might reveal under torture."

"Gaius," Geoffrey breathed, "you're not asking me to..." The man pointed at the cloth and then Gaius' neck.

"I do not want to be disloyal to Arthur. I'm old anyway. I'm hardly useful to him anymore. This is the last thing I can do for him."

Geoffrey gaped in shock.

"Listen. Merlin is hurt, sick. You must get the healer Alice to him."

"I'm going to die."

Gaius smiled. "Elyan will certainly come for you at the execution. He isn't one to let a man die in his place. Swear to me you will make sure Alice gets to Merlin. Take her against her will if you must."

"Gaius, I…I don't think I can..."

"Swear."

"Get the healer to Merlin, yes, but I cannot kill you!"

Something sounded outside the cell, down the hall. Footfalls. Gaius quickly wrapped the cloth around his neck. "You can! Do it now before they get here!"

"My friend..."

"This is our last chance! Please, Geoffrey!"

Geoffrey's shaking hands grasped the ends of the cloth, pulling them across each other and taut. His eyes filled with tears. "I...I've never killed."

"Please."

The cloth tightened...and then loosened. Geoffrey bowed his head. "I'm weak, Gaius. I'm sorry."

Gaius' heart stopped as the footfalls halted in front of the cell.

"What are you doing?"

Geoffrey's head snapped up. "Elyan!" The bulky man pulled himself to a stand and fairly tumbled into the cell door with relief.

A key jangled. Tears dripped down Gaius' cheeks. He dashed at them with the back of a hand and swallowed two deep breaths. Destiny, it seemed, would let him live a little longer.

"We have to hurry. Cenred's guards will be here any moment," Elyan said when the cell door creaked open. Geoffrey left the cell as Elyan gripped Gaius by the upper arm, hauling him to his feet.

"Thank you," Gaius whispered.

Elyan smiled and nodded to him. "Let's go!"

The three men moved quickly to the dungeon entrance where guards lay sprawled and standing next to them...

"Alice!" Gaius called in surprise.

She nodded to the guards. "Certain herbs found their way into their morning drink." Gaius observed she held a small wooden chest in her hands and wore a pack on her back. She nudged another pack at her feet with her shoe. "Put it on. We're going."

Elyan aided Geoffrey up the stairs as Gaius slipped into the pack and climbed next to Alice. "I didn't think to see you again. Why are you here?"

"The girl. She didn't say much, but... It's Emrys you mean to help. Merlin? The king's ward?"

"Yes," Gaius confessed.

"Cenred and Morgause said they had Emrys."

"Mordred."

"The same. He isn't, is he? This Merlin is."

"Yes."

"I always thought something was wrong with the boy. Morgause has lied to me. The girl helped me find a boy she knows...Will? And he brought your real leader. You are a rebel."

"I couldn't let Arthur lose his kingdom."

"You have changed. You never would have done something like this in Uther's day."

"No."

"Then I trust you. With my very life if I must."

Gaius' heart soared when they reached the top step. He paused, turning to pull Alice close and gently kissed her cheek. Her skin deepened to a shade of rose and she smiled softly, so similar to the shy grins she used to send him when their hearts first entwined.

"Come on," Elyan prompted.

The four hurried outside, sneaking as able through the citadel. Alice caused a couple distractions as they went and soon they were passing into the royal gardens. They took a couple turns before Freya ducked out from around a hedge.

"You got them!" the girl exclaimed.

"There's no time to lose," Elyan insisted. Freya began to morph, changing shape.

Alice turned stunned eyes to Gaius. "A bastet?"

Gaius nodded, moving over to Freya and climbing up. He held out his hand. Alice hesitantly grasped his hand and allowed him to help her up.

Shouts sounded. Elyan glanced over his shoulder. "Go! We'll get out another way. Give Gwen my love and tell Arthur he still has a loyal kingdom." He pulled at Geoffrey, dragging him further into the gardens.

Gaius muttered a spell, securing himself and Alice to Freya as she began to run. When she lifted into the air, Gaius peered down on soldiers pouring forth into the gardens.

Morgana knelt beside a figure shivering in his sleep. She laid a warm hand on his brow and he turned towards her on his side.

"My Merlin," she whispered, barely choking back her emotion. He was so pale and stiff like a deceased body unnaturally living. He was still with them only because of his bond with Arthur, or so Nimueh claimed.

"You're not Sigan," Morgana said to the unconscious youth. "You can't be." Lancelot had to be wrong. This wasn't better, Merlin wasting away without his connection to magic. Merlin wouldn't ever turn on them like Sigan, no matter what blood flowed in his veins, no matter what vision she saw.

Morgana rubbed at her eyes. But the vision was still the same—Merlin spearing magical beings, hurting them. Hurting her. She peered back down at the youth who still felt like a little boy to her, a brother from the time he arrived at the citadel. So much had happened to him and he remained incredibly innocent and pure. His heart could never contain the evil of Sigan. It just couldn't.

"I need something." Arthur passed Merlin's pallet, moving swiftly to a saddle bag where he crouched down to assess its contents.

"He's colder."

Arthur kept messing with the bags as he gruffly replied. "He won't die. He'll just stay like that forever."

"There must be a way to stop this."

Arthur grunted. "Anyone with healing power has tried." He peeked over his shoulder at her. "Have you?"

Morgana stared down at Merlin. "A few spells. Nothing worked."

Arthur went back to the bag.

"You're a coward." She stood as he whirled back around to her. She'd known the declaration would get his attention.

Arthur rose to his feet, slinging the saddle bag over his shoulder. "That's what you think, is it?"

"I know what it is to be fated. I didn't ask to see the visions or to be born like this. No one asked me if I wanted to be tormented day and night. Should I give in?"

"You aren't queen."

"But I've watched you. Everything you did to become a good king so much better than Uther."

"Morgana..."

"So you were tricked. You weren't as harsh as Uther. That doesn't make you wrong, Arthur. The fault doesn't lie with you. It lies with all those who hate you for no reason!"

"It's time to leave." He began to stride away. Morgana stepped in front of him.

"Why even try to stop Morgause if you don't care anymore?"

"I do care," Arthur hissed between his teeth.

"The people that come here put their hope in you. They need you." He looked away and she grasped at him. "I need you. You must keep keep fighting so I can keep fighting!"

Arthur turned a softened gaze to her. "Morgana..."

She let him go, plunging her face into her hands. "I'm tired. So tired."

Gentle hands laid on her shoulders. "You should remain here."

"I'm the only one who can do the spell," she muttered.

"Aglain can do it."

"He doesn't know it as well. Druids don't use it." She ran her hands over her eyes and peered up at him. "Don't leave us after this. If you try I'll keep you here. I'll...break your legs!" Her hands went to her hips and the corners of Arthur's mouth curled slightly upwards.

"This is the Morgana I know." He laughed, then shook his head and sighed. "We've always argued, haven't we? Always saw things differently. I wish I'd listened to you more in our childhood, Morgana. I'm sorry. I am going to the Isle. Most likely I'm not coming back. And if I die..." Arthur peered over her form at Merlin. "He'll at least be at peace."

"Do you want to die?"

"He told me he did. I can't let him suffer like this."

"You wouldn't ever kill yourself for him?"

"I wouldn't have to. I could just break the bond. But could I live with that? I might as well be struck down by Morgause's dead priestesses."

"Arthur, if you go with a mind like this..."

"They're waiting for us," Arthur said, moving around her.

"There's something I haven't told you!" Morgana blurted.

"You've said enough."

"Taliesin told me about Bruta and Sigan."

Arthur halted, turning round. "That? Merlin told me."

"He knows?"

"Nimueh told him Bruta and Sigan were bonded. They fell out. Sigan died when Bruta broke the bond."

"Did Nimueh tell him who Bruta is? Who Sigan is?"

"Who they are? They're long dead."

"You have Bruta's blood. He's your ancestor."

"The first king of Camelot?" Arthur huffed a scornful laugh. "If that had been true, father would have crowed it from the tops of the citadel's towers."

"He didn't know, but Taliesin did. It's why he saw you and me. My blood is Taliesin's and when it combined with Bruta's in me, it made a way for him to see me. And Merlin..." She paused.

Arthur's gaze slipped to the youth, pained. "Let me guess. He's descended from Sigan."

"Yes."

The saddle bag slipped off Arthur's shoulder and he held it dangling from his left hand. "So this is fate again."

"Sigan cursed Bruta, that if anyone descended from him tried to reign, their rule would suffer."

Arthur laughed bitterly. "So nothing I do matters."

"I don't believe that."

"And why not?" Arthur shook the saddle bag towards Merlin. "He dreams of me and bonds with me and pain is his reward. And now you tell me my reign was doomed to failure because of some angry warlock cursing it hundreds of years ago? So what's the point? Because it appears to me I might as well die and Merlin, too. Camelot would be better off."

"I saw Mordred kill you, but it didn't happen. Fate can be fought. I have to believe that, Arthur. Because what I see..." She hesitated and he grasped her arm tightly.

"What do you see?"

Morgana stared up at him. "A battle. I'm there and you and Merlin. And he...he says he's death and doom. I don't know what it means. If it's true, he won't die here. And maybe this sickness, maybe it's what turns him or maybe he heals or… This is far from over. But it can be changed. It must change."

Arthur released her. "So which is true? Your vision or a prophecy of peace in Albion?"

"I don't know."

"And I don't either, so whatever comes, let it come." He set the saddle bag back over his shoulder. "According to Aglain we go to conquer hell first. If hell defeats us then we have our answer in the end, don't we?"

Arthur moved over to Merlin, pausing to crouch and ruffle the youth's hair. "It's been an honor, Merlin," he spoke softly, then stood, striding away towards their waiting entourage, marching towards what? Fate? Destiny? Or maybe their final end after all.

The noise of the world crept into Merlin's brain as well as mind-numbing pain. He daren't move anymore. Every twitch seared aching bones and each swallow scorched his throat. Even worse was the life flooding away from him, slowing his heartbeat to a sluggish thump. He barely felt a pulse anymore, and his blood was a muddy sludge slogging through his veins…

Warmth fell on his brow. He'd thought he'd felt a hand some time before, but this was the delicate touch of...lips? Rough lips, worn. "Emrys," a voice hissed. It sounded like...Nimueh? "I pray you hear me. Listen. You must fight! Your victory will come!" He felt another touch, a wrinkled hand curling around his fingers. "You gifted me hope in the place of my son. Do not give up. Your king has lost all hope. You cannot. Hope, Emrys. Hope always. This is what I leave with you." The touch disappeared. Merlin tumbled back into pain.

How long he dwelt in the tormenting void, he did not know. He drifted on waves of pain for hours...days? He jolted when a hand gripped him, hard and firm. His eyes popped open. He blinked owlishly, fighting a foggy haze.

"Oh, Merlin." A figure knelt beside him, short and slight. It was familiar. He thought he should...love it?

"Let us work, child." Another figure appeared speaking with a voice he didn't know. He whimpered when he was poked and prodded. Conversation followed, but he missed what was said, then the language of magic fell over him, but he felt nothing.

"Merlin, my boy. Look at me."

Merlin tried to obey, but his lids fought him. He recognized the white-haired form and its familiar speech.

"Merlin, Gaius is here," a fourth voice informed him and a tender hand laid against his cheek. He knew this person. She was...mother. "Can you see him?"

He tried harder. His eyes itched and burned. He shut them and his mind screamed. Let me out! Let me die!

Emrys!

Merlin stiffened. This voice had shouted in his head, bouncing off the corners of his brain, shutting down his thoughts. He wanted to cover his ears. He couldn't.

Your time comes. Do not falter.

His heart pumped. Once...twice...no more. He froze.

The Dragon Man, the voice hissed.

It was the voice that had haunted him for years. The one that had caused all of this to happen. Who are you?

Speak!

Kilgharrah?

Tell her to remember!

It hurts!

The voice boomed. Electric shocks rippled through his brain. He convulsed violently. Tell her!

He screamed. "Kilgharrah! Remember!" He stilled and all movement ceased.

"G-gaius," the trembling voice of his mother whispered.

The voice of the slight figure followed. "He can't be..."

"His heart does not beat," the one they called Gaius replied. "He's passed."

The two voices Merlin loved wept. He wanted to reach out, hold them, kiss them. Take away their pain.

"He loved me," one sobbed. "I loved him."

"He's not dead," the foreign voice broke in.

"Alice?" Gaius again.

"I sense his energy. He is still here even if his blood does not flow."

"How is that possible?"

"If he is Emrys as you say, he is more than we can possibly understand."

"He isn't dead?" a weeping voice gasped.

"Freya." That was Gaius. "He mentioned Kilgharrah."

"Kilgharrah's dead. He's in the lake. He..."

"Freya?"

"Kilgharrah...at the lake. He told me...He said..."

"What, Freya? What did he tell you?"

"Before he died...he said...When I think I lost what was most dear, go to Avalon, and don't look back. Most dear… Gaius! Secure him to me! Now!"

There was a strange sound of stretching and breaking followed by a wild meow. Merlin felt nothing even though he was sure he was being moved. Then darkness descended as he floated away on a breeze.

Author's Note: If you want a refresher of Kilgharrah's talk with Freya, check out chapters 75 and 80.