REVIEWS:

Michele: THank you! XD

TRIALS PART III.

"Are you all right?" Gwaine's tone was gentle, caring and was followed by his typical dazzling smile that could almost make a person believe everything would be all right. The effect however was lost in the presence of his tired looking eyes.

"I'm fine."

"Well, I hope you're hungry at least, Lancelot is calling us to eat something." The knight put his hands on his waist, pursing his lips to the general direction of the sealed cave. "He wants to discuss the situation, although I don't see what is there to discuss. The food though,he has the right idea there, I think."

"I know" It was Lancelot's idea of a distraction. "He asked me to go find some firewood, just in case, I'll be back in a second."

"All right" The knight frowned. "Don't stray too far or we'll miss you, my friend." Gwaine tapped his shoulder sympathetically, it was a gentle touch that was better than Arthur's shoulder punches. Those were just stupid. "We will get him back, Merlin, five minutes for lunch then back to work, we will have him out before the sun sets."

Except Arthur might not have until sunset.

When Gwaine retreated to where the knights were all together, Merlin turned around disappearing amidst the rocks and trees, before doubling back and tracing a path away from the camp. He knew already of a spell, something that had been tested and proved before, so when he came to the cave there was no hesitation. The young warlock raised his hand and chanted.

"Ic ábíetee þæt stánhol!" Gold rushed into his eyes as his magic stirred, making gravel shake and tremble, but the entrance remained closed. "Ic ábíetee þæt stánhol!"

He repeated the spell again and again, and still, the entrance didn't move. Roaring in frustration Merlin rubbed his temples, pacing back and forth and staring at the obstacle. This had to work. Arthur was in there and counting on him. He was probably in danger. In his mind, he imagined all the times the prince had been in trouble. Again and again his life had been on the edge of a knife, and always he had been there to pull him to safety. Despite everything, he would always save Arthur, it was his destiny and his choice as well.

Closing his eyes, Merlin concentrated, begging whatever special powers inhabited his body, wishing for them to awaken out of despair and a wish to preserve a future that was good and bright and hopeful. He concentrated on Arthur, seeing him in that future, sitting on the throne of Camelot and himself able to walk in the light without secrets and fear… A dream… Merlin opened his eyes…

"Ic ábíetee þæt stánhol!"

The magic inside him spread its wings, taking flight in a burst that hit the entrance of the cave with the power of a giant's fist. It crushed the stone everywhere in a howl of thunder. A cloud of smoke burst from the impact, so thick Merlin quickly closed his mouth and nose, coughing when he inhaled some of it. Tripping away, he desperately found a spot to hide behind, looking back to the cave being completely open as the knights raced down through the path in alarm.

"What the hell happened?" Elyan asked.

"The cave is open!" Percival pointed out.

"I can see that! But how?"

"I don't know, but it's open, that is it what matters" Lancelot said, discreetly checking their surroundings.

Merlin decided it was the right time to show up. Using a spell to clean himself from the dust, he darted behind a boulder and raced to the back of the group, widening his eyes in what he hoped to be an appropriate amount of surprise. "What happened?"

"The cave is open" Said Percival.

"Lucky is on our side, it seems" Gwaine laughed, slapping Merlin's back with a peculiar glint to his eyes.

"All right men, let us not dispense with our good fortune!" Lancelot shouted, freeing his sword. "Our prince is in there, let's get to him."

They lit their torches and run into the cave as a group, Merlin being pushed back for his safety. In their hurry they tripped their way inside, dodging spiral shaped stones, jumping up and down an uneven ground, but at least the path was only one, ahead and always, horse whines reaching his ears which none of them had time to question.

"I see something!" Percival exclaimed.

"There is light!" Lancelot agreed, pushing on as an arch opened before the group. Like a well-trained unit, they spread in the newly revealed chamber to form a line of steel and mortal skills, their gasps reaching Merlin's ears and readying him for danger.

Immediately he sought out blonde hair and Camelot red and found it leaning against the wall, clearly needing support to stand up. Blood marring his mail and the side of his face while his sword was red and pointed towards something else. That something was a woman, clutching her guts while a pale horse reared and hit its hooves by her side. Morgana saw them coming, gritted her teeth like a raging haunting.

Merlin swallowed his fear, for him, for his friends and for Arthur, and then he readied himself for a fight.

The sight unfurled before Arthur's eyes in a vastness of emptness.

The beach spread from one horizon to another in an endless line of grey sand, lifeless like death and bathed by mashing waves of waters black like ink. He stepped on the soft soil, sinking his boots further as the howling winds came at him like the breath of a beast, cutting and freezing, forcing him to wrap himself under his cloak, in front of him his breath turned to smoke. Beyond the waters he saw only mist, clouds of white pale glimmer that covered his vision, a wall as high as the skies and wide as the earth and, before that sight, Arthur Pendragon faltered. Never, the young prince felt this small. Never he felt so insignificant.

"Are you all right?" He couldn't exactly speak at the moment, so he shook his head, instinctively tightening the cloak around him. "Just breath, it will pass."

"Of course…" He said, panting… "You know everything…" Morgana had her gaze stuck to the mists beyond, idly closing her coat around herself.

"This place was not meant for mortals; it rejects the living. You should feel privileged to be here at all."

"Yes, I'm feeling it."

"You're still weak from giving your blood earlier, don't push yourself."

"You don't seem tired."

"I heal faster." The shadow of her pursed lips followed her all the way down the slope, where she came to a halt in front of the next statue in their path.

This one was of another woman of course, hunched over and covered by a black robe that, to his surprise, waved around the grey stone body like real cloth. Yet, when Arthur curiously reached to touch it, he found it hard and smooth under his fingers. What he saw of the woman properly were only a pair of wrinkled hands, and the lower part of her face which was set into an odd sort of smile. The eyes themselves where hidden in the hood and when he tried to look deeper, he saw only a pair of starry lights in the pitch darkness, as deeply as the hell the monks spoke about, and then further until the skin seemed to peel from his body, revealing his soul. Arthur, gasping, tripped onto himself, feeling the ground changing from under his feet. Desperately, he unsheathed his sword for support.

"Don't look at her!" He heard Morgana scolding him. "You can't see the face of death while alive you fool!"

"A warning would've been nice." Arthur grunted, licking the salt from his lips. "What do they call this place?"

Morgana huffed. "Some call it the twilight world, or the home of the bastets. To the High Priestess it's called simply the Edge."

"Fancy."

"The Edge is not to be taken lightly, this place stands between the world of the living and the dead, its sea is filled with tears of mourning, shed by every soul that ever grieved." A Sea of Tears, Arthur wondered if any of his made part of this place. Did the tears of a new-born baby count? Did the late tears of a boy who missed his mother? He thought of asking Morgana, but she was already shaking her head in annoyance. "I think you should stay here."

"Are you seriously trying that again?" He was feeling annoyed now. "Need I remind you that I pretty much did all the work so far?"

"Lucky shot."

"Lucky?" He laughed dryly, climbing to his feet. "What was there of lucky? It was all cleverness and… Determination…"

Arthur wondered if he would have to stand his ground again, but Morgana didn't press any further. Instead, she seemed almost dejected, tired.

Morgana had seemed subdued and thoughtful ever since he touched that flower. Then again, she had been subdued and thoughtful ever since he met her again, so what else was new? Since she walked on him inside the cave they had raged, shouted and taunted one another to the bitter confessions that he should've never given a sworn enemy of his kingdom. And yet, listening to her story only made his heart break further than it originally had. Morgana had not only turned her back on Camelot, she had suffered doing it and he had been completely blind to both events.

"We need to cross the ocean, without straying from the path. It is that simple"

Arthur inhaled deeply. "Except it isn't."

"Except it isn't." Loose curls brushed over her face like a net of coals, and she idly pushed them back behind her ears. "Tomorrow and yesterday are the same inside the mist. The Ghosts will be calling you, with love or hatred." A pause. "It's very likely that hatred will be more present, it is something the name Pendragon instigates plenty of."

Arthur slowly let her meaning sink in. "Yours doesn't?"

Morgana shrugged. "I'm quite used to it."

"That is a horrible thing to say."

"It is the truth and I've been working on not denying it anymore." She stepped into the water, letting the waves wash her boots clean. "Remember to keep walking. If you get lost in there you'll be dragged beyond the veil and then, well, let's just say that you'll be missed."

Arthur did his best to ignore the last bit. "How do I know I'm not lost?"

"You'll know."

"Helpful." The prince answered, hoping that it contained enough sarcasm for her. He adjusted his belt, feeling his undershirt and pants sticking to his skin. "I don't suppose there is a bath waiting for us on the other side." She said nothing. "Not that I need as much as you."

Their steps were slow, tired actions mounting from their strife, losing blood and keeping their eyes open in a space where Arthur had long given up measuring time. He felt his boots touching the water with a sound like shattering glass. In front of them the mist drifted over like tendrils of pale sickness, brushing over his arms with a touch of burning earnings.

"Whatever you hear, whatever you see, ignore it." Morgana's voice drifted over like that of an impatient and worried teacher.

"I've got it." Arthur answered.

"I'm serious."

He nodded.

After a while the water was climbing over his knees, their steps becoming the hard work of sore muscles. Soon, his calves were burning every time he moved, feeling the soft surface underneath sinking under every and each step. Still he moved on as the mist grew so thick even Morgana, right by his side, seemed to be behind a panel of fogged glass.

"Arthur?"

"What?" He turned, but Morgana was looking straight ahead. "What is it?"

"I didn't say anything." Morgana told him, sharply. "Keep walking."

"But I heard you…" There was the voice again, feminine, familiar somehow, but Morgana had her mouth close and his name now seemed far away. Then he understood. The voices. He wondered what or who was calling him.

Still they moved on. When he paid attention, he would see Morgana moving her eyes to all directions and knew she must be hearing the voices as well. Still they moved on. When they stopped saying 'Arthur', they begun to call for 'Pendragon'. Still they moved on. Everything was the same, they walked and walked, and further on the water was still dark and the world was white smoke. Still they moved on. The voices grew in number, a cacophony now, the shouts angry, sad, raging. Still they moved on, the sound of his panting and trudging muffled to his ears as he wondered how long this would take.

He turned to Morgana and the question died on his lips.

She wasn't there.

"Morgana?" Arthur turned around, looking for any sign of dark hair, but his surroundings were all the same. White, shapeless fog. "Morgana!"

His cries carried on, boundless towards nothing and his answer returned from many voices, but none of them were her.

Morgana stumbled into cold wet stone, her gloved hands scrapping over the rough surface as she looked around, missing the water sloshing on her knees. She wasn't on the sea anymore, that much she could tell. What surrounded her was the cave, dripping with humidity and freezing to the bone, but nothing was as chilling as the presences she felt nearby, like a wrinkle in the fabric of the world.

They stood above her, each to her own space, elevated on dais of stone moulded naturally into the cave. There were three of them, but they were also one. At some point they might have had names, but to now call them such would be an insult and insulting those beings would be the same as insulting her Goddess. That was the last thing she wanted. With that in mind Morgana quietly lowered herself into a curtsy.

"Noble Disir." She called, her eyes still seeking a flash of Camelot red. "I'm honoured to be in your presence."

They loomed silently for the length of a breath, then they spoke, chopping their words among themselves. "We receive you, Morgana Pendragon. High Priestess. Half living"

Morgana frowned, uncertain as she took a step forward. "Noble Disir, I have received the runemark, but I cannot decipher its meaning. I come to you now, so that the reasons behind it be made clear."

"The reason for your judgement. For your fate. It is the same reason for the night in your dreams."

Morgana sharply inhaled the cold damp air of the cave. "Please, tell me."

"You have died. You have lived. Yet here you stand."

"I had hoped that the Goddess had blessed me with such."

"It wasn't a blessing." The Disir said. "It was a sin. A sin born of love, but a sin nonetheless." Their magic reached out, their shadows growing and climbing up the walls, heavy with hostility the likes that pushed her back a step.

"I don't understand."

The Disir scowled under their hoods, the expression appearing ominously on all three of their faces in perfect sync. "Only the gods can alter one's fate. Only the gods can forgive or condemn. It was not a god that displaced your soul." A pale wooden staff was pointed in her direction. "The moment it happened, you begun to alter the course of the world. The course of destiny. You're a disease that spreads, marring the future of Albion."

Morgana gulped. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"

"We do not accuse, Morgana. We do not condemn. We speak of their will and only that."

"And what is the will of the gods? What does the Triple Goddess wish of me?" She tried to keep the trepidation away from her voice as she stood her ground, although it was any guess if the women could be fooled by her acting skills.

"To cleanse a sin. The sinner must repent. Punishment must be wrought. What you built. What you changed. Must be corrected."

It took a moment, but their meaning sunk into her all the same.

"Corrected? There is nothing to correct. I've been only doing what is right! For the Goddess, for all of those who follow her and the Old Religion! I'm trying to keep all of them safe! Why would that be a bad thing? What sort of god would look into that and condemn it?" She turned from one face to other, looking for any sign of uncertainty. "I've only done the will of the Goddess!"

"You've sought vengeance." The Disir countered. "You've sought your ambitions and your dreams. Not the Goddess' ambitions. Not her dreams."

"If you know I've lived my life, then you must know how that life ended. How it was full of pain, and despair."

"Who caused that pain? Who caused that despair?"

Morgana hesitated, torn apart between the venom of the truth and the temptation to lie. She closed her eyes, clenching her hands into fists while she released a soft, hurt answer. "I did."

The Disir nodded solemnly. "What you have brought is uncertainty, Morgana. You've strayed from a path sealed by your own hands. You threaten the Goddess' own promise."

"Punish me then, but keep Essetir out of your schemes."

"We cannot do that. The Goddess cannot allow that. She cannot." There was something in their voices that was horribly familiar. An resolute certainty that would not bend, something that might've been in the mouth of a king.

"I won't allow my kingdom to come to harm."

"You have no say in their fate. That is the point of your judgement. Your punishment."

"And I've repent, there must be a way to make it right, otherwise why would you even put me through the trials?"

"We did no such thing."

"What?"

The one in the centre cocked her head to the side "Why should you. Pass a trial. For the second time?"

Morgana heard the answer and was hit by a new understanding. Clarity hit her like a punch to her guts. This whole time she thought was been tested, when in reality the whole situation was a sham, a setup done right under her nose for reasons she still didn't understand. "Arthur! The trials are for Arthur!"

"Arthur…."

His mother had cried, and he had followed with a temptation from the heart.

"Arthur…. Arthur…"

Her voice faded into a scream of cutting sorrow and was followed by the bawling of a newborn.

"Arthur… Pendragon…"

Light flared from beyond the fog, intense, crackling. Hissing echoes filled his ears as Arthur braved the waist high waters. At first he thought it might be the sun so bright was the glow that breached the mist, but slowly he glimpsed the shadowy silhouettes of bark, trunk and branches flickering under blood red fire. He felt the heat engulfing his body, ashes and ambers flying over him, twisted by whirlwinds and bursts of flame. Around him the sea parted to screams and shadows began to run past the corner of his vision. He tried to seek them out, but whenever he tried to, a new shadow would appear. He could glimpse a glimmer of naked steel and hear the gurgling dying screech of a person. More and more they came, passing him by, dying in dozens, then hundredths. When a single scream cut through his senses, the sea gave away to silence, then the silence gave away to a tormented moan…

This is wrong, he thought.

Arthur turned, feeling the heat from the fire gone from his back, but now the mighty rowan tree was nothing but ashes, falling piece by piece into the sea, steaming due to the heat of its burned wood. It was disassembled like a corpse might, and the sounds of its death were hauntingly human as more and more of the steam joined the fog around him. Arthur inhaled the smoke, feeling his body tensing, strung up muscles overcome by uncertainty. He coughed away, trying to rid his lungs from the burning sensation, his eyes watering and disrupting his vision. When something cold wrapped around his leg and pulled, his scream was swallowed by the waters.

"Pendragon!"

A chorus chanted, pulling and pulling, and no matter how much he braced his arms trying to swim back to the surface. Arthur held his breath, kicking away with his legs, but every hit seemed harmless against the grip. When desperation made him look down to see what had him arrested, he almost lost what was left of his oxygen.

Her skin was rotting and peeling away from a face that once might've been a woman, judging by the rags of a dress covering her body. The eyes had long been gone, leaving nothing but empty sockets that glared at him unseeing.

"Pendragon! Pendragon!"

Beyond her, there were more. More empty sockets, more rotten hands, more voices, all reaching from the bottom of the sea. Deeper in the dark there might be more, many more. Arthur felt their presence, their feelings, every and each voice crying in an array that would've put the greatest armies to shame and he knew, as fear curled around his heart like a cold icy serpent, that they wanted to tear him apart.

"Pendragon! Pendragon! PendragonPedragonPendragonPendragon…"

The chant grew quicker and as the surface grew distant from his reach, Arthur took his last remains of strength into resisting their pull. He kicked with his boot, using the iron tip again and again. When more hands came, warrior instincts made him grab for his sword, the blade coming through with a painfully slow cut. Underwater it couldn't cut limbs, but the rotting flesh suffered all the same under his battering until Arthur felt his leg free.

He turned, ready to swim back up, when something broke the water above. It was heavy and it fell trashing about, a swirl of bubbles and muffled cries as the open mouth was flooded with water. Arthur's eyes widened when he saw the young face of the boy, his tied hands and feet not allowing him any hope as he sunk towards the corpses below.

No! His mind screamed. Air was lacking, but he couldn't stop himself from moving towards the boy, intent on saving him no matter the cost. I'll get you! I'll get you! Three strokes and he was there, pulling the now unconscious boy with him. I got you! Arthur kept his impulse, climbing up and up. You're safe. I got you! You're safe! He could see the light shimmering atop of the water, could almost feel the relieved breath he and the boy would be taking soon. You're safe! Something new broke through the surface, trashing about. His hands and feet were tied. Hopeless as he sunk. What… She broke the surface trashing about. Her hands and feet tied. Hopeless as she sunk…

Arthur's mind silenced as they fell around him, dozens of them. The ones farther away were only spots in the darkness underwater, but the ones closest had the faces of boys and girls of all ages, from almost men to babies, and here and there peppered in wrists, chests and ankles were druid marks glaring at him under the dim light. The voices chanted. His mind was silent.

When he looked to the boy in his arms he saw only eyes, dead in despair. His hand squeezed around the twig of an arm and then, with a roar of rage and anger, he let go. He broke surface.

"The young prince must be touched by the truth. If he is to walk the path decided for him. The path in which he would've walked."

"And what does that path implies? I certainly don't remember you taken such interest in him back in my previous life."

"There is no previous life. That life is this life. And failure was proved even though you weren't there to see." Morgana blinked and the confusion must've shown in her face. "A trial was assembled for Arthur's fate. A trial he failed. A trial in which he and others ignored their own hearts for the comfort of selfishness…"

Arthur screamed as soon as the depths of the sea disappeared, standing on his feet as if he had never glimpsed the infinitude below. He looked around himself, because the voices were back, everywhere and everywhere, there was only the mist. "What is the meaning of this?!" He cried out, still feeling the boy's body in his grasp. "Why are you showing that to me?" He screamed his question, feeling his throat tearing apart. "Who did this?!"

In answer, the misty finally seemed to part. A curtain slowly revealing what is behind it, chainmail of shining metal, red cloth of waving cloaks and golden dragons as far as the eyes could see. Surrounding Arthur, there were knights in red, red… red…

"In that case, what about now? Why must Arthur go through a trial a second time?" But asking the question offered her the answer. "How long as he been in there?" No answer. "So that is it, you want to weaken him! His spirit! You want to kill him!"

"That is his fate yes. Soon battle shall come. And what was shall be once more."

"I'm the one changing things."

The Disir tilted their head. "You argue is his favour. Why? Wouldn't you wish his death even at the cost of your own life?"

"I…" She couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't really understand why it was hard. Except she knew why. "I'm simply saying that I'm willing to accept my fate, but my fate only."

Silence, and then, an answer in three voices. "No."

Arthur walked.

Breathing in and out. The water came to his chest now, and he had no idea if he was on the right path. He only knew that he needed to leave this place. Above him, the knights kept staring, each one looking at him from shadows that covered their eyes. These visions didn't call for him in anger, but they bowed one by one at his passage.

"Sire… Sire… Sire… Sire…."

Arthur walked.

Breathing in and out. The water covered his mouth and he spit it away, knowing only that he needed to continue. Above him, the knights kept staring, each one looking at him from shadows that covered their eyes, while their hands dripped with fresh blood, each droplet falling before his gaze. These visions didn't call for him in anger, but bowed one by one at his passage.

"Sire… Sire…. Sire… Sire…"

"Why?" She asked, trembling voice rippling with familiar sorrow of a different kind.

"It is not to you to question."

"Maybe is should be." The Goddess had made her judgement, and Morgana, although not realizing it, had been working to undo her will. Around her she felt the Disir pressing her from all sides, their magic showing its claws in a display of terror and raw power that far surpassed her own. There was no fighting fate, she had learned that the hard way already, hadn't she? She looked down to the ground. Her whole life she fought a force that couldn't be beaten and now, when she had the best chance, it still wasn't enough. She was just Morgana, and even her Goddess was against her. Everything was against her. Everything. And yet… "Is that the Goddess dream? Is it her dream that the Once and Future King meet his fate before he is even crowned?"

"A crown doesn't make a king. Or a queen."

"You didn't answer my question." She was meet with silence. "It's my fate and Arthur's that we die, but do you really want this to happen now? Would you really put Camelot's and Essetir's futures in the balance so we might have our due? I beg your pardon, but I doubt this is the only way."

Arthur walked.

Breathing in and out. The water was lowering now, it was back at his waist and through the searing pain that run through his weary body, he knew that he was close to the end. Around him, the knights kept staring, each on looking at him from shadows that covered their eyes, while their hands dripped with fresh blood, each droplet falling in a bitter musical note. These visions didn't call for him in anger, but bowed one by one at his passage.

"Sire… Sire… Sire… Sire…"

The Disir bristled. "Do you question the higher powers? You who claim to serve them?"

"Yes." Morgana felt weak and alone, cold, but she summoned everything she had in the depth of her soul in anyway to stare back at three women. She thought about the sorcerers who came to her call. She thought about her victory in battle and her sister at her side. A white dragon in surcoat, to remember someone dear. Mordred hugging her close, safe and sound. Arthur, heartbroken and yet pushing her away to risk his life for her. Suddenly, in that brief moment, she was the Lady Morgana staring Uther Pendragon in the eyes and urging his son away from his path. For that moment she was the Mad Witch, the bane of Camelot that was made of rage and a smirk. "I'm sure we can find another way together, or else I'll have no choice but to refuse your judgement."

"You cannot refuse it. Your fate is certain. Death shall come for you and him."

Arthur tripped, hard and rough cobblestone rubbed his knees through his trousers as the prince panted on the ground. Every inch of his body burned with effort, but he knew it was done. He crossed the sea like Morgana told him. Around him, the knights were staring, then they were moving, and suddenly they were burning, each one pleading him with eyes full of anguish, falling to the ground and trying to crawl away. These visions didn't call for him in anger, but begged him to save them.

"Sire! My prince! Arthur! Arthur…"

"Then I'll fight it!" She roared, seeming surprising the women.

"You cannot…"

"I most certainly can!" Her fists clenched, power surging forward, lifting strands of hair above her head. "I'm a High Priestess of the Old Religion! You said so yourself! I have gone through the trials and consumed the grail of life! I have bound souls to the Silver Wheel and ripped the veil between worlds! If you refuse to negotiate I shall do everything in my power to stop you." Gold were her eyes as her magic responded, screeching like a murder of ravens. "Wé cēap - wé wig"

Arthur cried, tears dropping from his eyes and burning a path of scorching oaths down his cheeks.

Ahead of him Camelot burned with flames that towered over the highest tower, licking skies black with smoke all as she marched past the courtyard, dark hair, dark clothes and a dark army at her back. He had called her name in relief upon sighting her, and then his eyes widened in confusion. His uncle was at her side, pointing and cutting down familiar faces. Arthur saw Sir Leon falling under his sword and then been burned by a spell of her hands. He saw Gwen screaming and falling, then silent as Morgana held her under her power, the sweet smile vanishing under the shadow of a dark tower.

Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan, one by one his knights were falling and then Merlin stood before Morgana who laughed and laughed and snapped her fingers until the servant was gasping in pain, his body twisted unnaturally as his bones cracked under the strain.

"NOO!" Arthur tripped to his feet. "Morgana! STOP!"

But she paid him no mind, her green eyes frozen in glazed pleasure.

"MORGANA!"

The ground vanished and Arthur fell, his guts burning under the sword of a man with blue eyes while behind him, Morgana laughed and armies swarmed past Arthur to spread across the land. The ground vanished and Arthur fell, his guts burning with a deadly wound whose heat twisted around every limb in a fiery chain.

"What a joy it is to see you Arthur." Morgana said, and in a stab of panic his hands reached for his sword, desperately grasping for the hope of survival under the strange primitive spell that told him he was in the presence of a predator. "Look at you, not so tall and mighty now."

His mind burned, a searing pain of a memory marking his mind. Her eyes were the same as when she was hurting Merlin, but worst. As if any humanity there might've once been there had vanished under the shadow of cold madness.

"… You're going to die by Mordred's hand." She told him, her hair was a wild dishevelled mess, her clothes torn and messily fitted, her face changing into a grin of satisfaction. "Don't worry dear brother, I won't let you die alone. I'll stay and watch over you, till the wolves gorge in your carcass and bathe in your blood."

As the snarls of approaching death announced his demise, Arthur struggled to move, trashing about as the darkness descended upon him… When his eyes opened again, she was still there… Green eyes… Fear and rage pierced his own ears in a raw bellowing sound… Steel flashed before his eyes, and red splashed into the rock.

A horse whined, rearing its legs while the green eyes widened. She gasped, a very human gasp, and crawled away. The horse came between them, hooves knocking in the air in front of him while Arthur tumbled back against the wall.

"Arthur…"

The sword rose in a swift glinting ray, pointing at her. The horse stood by her side and Arthur gripped his blade tighter, his confusion making him look around for more enemies… His uncle… The man with blue eyes… Morgana crawled away, climbing back to her knees even as blood seeped through her mail and to the ground. Her blood…

"Arthur…"

He opened his mouth, but his answer was an earth shuddering sob.

In that instant he saw her mouth opening soundlessly, her eyes blinking something shining and glimmering that fell down her cheeks. In that instant, he wished he could lower his sword, he wished he could apologise, but nothing happened to make it so. Arthur instead felt the world shrinking back to that small kingdom where he saw events unfurling before his eyes, distant and unimportant.

He saw his knights coming into the cave. Saw their swords shining, pointed to Morgana. He saw their attack, and then her magic throwing them away with power that made the hairs on his skin stand upright. Knights in red bowed to him… Sire… Sire… Sire… He saw her climbing on her horse, and saw the horse breaking the line of his men, her power moving like a storm, farther and farther away, away from him, where she could do no harm.

"Don't worry dear brother, I won't let you die alone"

By the time Merlin was kneeling by his side, he finally let his eyes close.

Giving up.

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