A/N: LET THE BATTLE COMMENCE
**EDITED**
By the time that the two of them had reached the end of the corridor, the sounds of battle began to reach their ears, the clashing of swords and the shouting of spells blending together into a muted, unintelligible roar even from such a distance. The castle corridors were empty, the serving staff all having gone home to their families and the guards having left to join in the battle.
They knew that the mages Merlin had brought with him from Carthis were ranged along the top of the battlements, weaving their protective spells from there with trusted Camelot guards at their backs on the off chance that enemy soldiers did make it into the citadel, but there was no one roaming the halls. Their progress was not impeded until they were met at the entrance by Sir Gwaine, who had already forsaken his voluminous red cloak in favor of having better mobility in battle.
"Gwaine, report," Arthur ordered brusquely, continuing out of the double doors and down the steps and trusting that Gwaine and Merlin would follow in his wake.
The fighting had not yet reached the city, staying mostly confined to the wide open areas outside the city proper, but there was a good chance the battle would spread to the city walls, if not into the city itself if Morgana's men fought hard enough.
"There are at least two thousand men," Gwaine said. "Mercenaries, for the most part."
"And sorcerers?" Merlin asked.
"Plenty of them," Gwaine confirmed. "Started slinging spells as soon as they crossed the city limits. But it doesn't seem to be anything your men can't handle."
A certain pride swelled in Merlin's chest, maybe more than was warranted seeing as he had had no hand in training the mages under his command, but that fact did nothing to quell the gratified feeling.
"The front line is holding?" Arthur asked.
"No one has broken through yet," Gwaine said. "You were right, Merlin, in thinking that Morgana wouldn't expect us to be prepared for her. If she had, she would have brought a larger fighting force. And she probably wouldn't have tried to waltz in through the front door either."
"Overconfidence has always been a problem of hers," Arthur said grimly.
"Well, she certainly didn't anticipate us having the magic to counter her sorcerers," Gwaine continued. "None of their spells are doing the slightest bit of good, not with your mages to hold down the defensive line."
"Good," Merlin said.
Halfway across the courtyard, he saw a swirl of blue cloak and a mop of dark curls heading in the opposite direction and recognized it to be Mordred. Merlin flagged him down and the young knight—mage, now, he should probably say—came jogging toward them.
"Mordred, how goes it up on the battlements?"
"The protective spells are all in place. Even if they get through the front line, and all the knights at the gates, and fight their way up to the castle walls, there's no way any of them are going to get through those," Mordred said. "The only person we'll have to worry about breaking through is Morgana; she would be the only one strong enough to overcome all the mages who put power into these enchantments."
"I'll worry about that myself if the time comes," Merlin said. He clapped Mordred on the shoulder. "Well done, Mordred. Keep up the good work."
Mordred smiled and took off toward the citadel once more.
"Oh, and Mordred!" Merlin called. "Watch your back, will you?"
But Mordred just laughed.
"I'll do you one better. I'll get Lady Cecily to watch my back for me," he called and Merlin laughed as well. He turned back to see the raised eyebrows from both Arthur and Gwaine.
"Lady Cecily?" Arthur asked, sounding a bit skeptical that a woman could be that much of a defense.
"A formidable sorceress," he explained. "And a damn good swordswoman to boot. I wouldn't worry about either of them. Come on."
He led the way toward the sounds of battle, Arthur and Gwaine falling into step on either side of him. Almost as soon as they passed through the gates and caught sight of the hordes of mercenaries attempting to force their way through the front line there were enemies advancing on them.
Without a second's hesitation, Arthur and Gwaine drew their swords and charged forward. Merlin forewent his sword for the time being in favor raising his hands before him, throwing out a spell at the first person who came into his line of sight. The man went sprawling backwards with a yell and Merlin turned his attention to the next, forcing him back as well.
Everything moved far too quickly for him to keep track of, a rush of bodies and loud cries. Soon, he had lost sight of Gwaine completely, but that did not surprise him in the least and he wasn't worried about it; Gwaine was nearly as talented a swordsman as Arthur was and there were few who could stand before him in battle. After a few minutes, Merlin found himself back to back with Arthur once more.
"Alright there, Merlin?" Arthur called over his shoulder, dispatching his current foe with a neat jab in the stomach.
"Never better," Merlin shouted back.
He was incredibly glad now that he had taken Mordred up on his offer of joining in the mages' training. He would never have been able to fight like this, using magic in open combat, if he hadn't. Now the offensive incantations came as easily to his lips as the subtly hampering spells that had made up his repertoire before he had come to Carthis, when he had worked primarily from the shadows.
Since they had joined the fight, as many men had fallen to Merlin's magic as had to Arthur's sword, and that was something that Merlin had never expected he would be able to boast. But it felt very right to be here, fighting at Arthur's side like this. It brought about a fierce sort of joy that kept his spirits up in spite of the violence and death all around him; he had never been very fond of battle, and being made more adept at it had not changed that about him. He could fight and kill when he needed to, but he would never enjoy it as some did.
One more opponent fell to his spells and it occurred to him that he should probably preserve his energy for the most important battle that was yet to come; it would not be a good thing if he managed to exhaust himself before he came face to face with Morgana; she was far too powerful for him to risk confronting when he was not at full strength.
He had found long ago that keeping up the constant barrage of curses and hexes was more of a drain than maintaining a single spell, so Merlin waved a hand expansively and a glittering golden shield sprung up in its wake, creating a barrier that would protect his and Arthur's flank but which did not enclose them completely. Arthur glanced over his shoulder at it in surprise but did not stop to comment on its sudden appearance, instead simply reorienting himself so that the shield was at his back.
Merlin drew his sword from its scabbard and took up position at Arthur's side. Before his time in Carthis, he would have been worried about fighting with a sword, but it felt much more at home in his hand now than it ever had before. He had spent many years scraping his way through skirmishes with subpar swordsmanship and the indirect use of magic, but he did not feel the need to subvert his own fighting anymore.
The clash of steel against steel was not quite as jarring as it once had seemed, the ebb and flow of the fight less foreign. He dispatched one, two, three opponents in a row without needing to stop for breath. He could practically feel Arthur's astonishment even as Arthur's attention was diverted elsewhere.
"You've improved, Merlin," he said when there was a lull in the fighting, wiping sweat from his brow.
It was an understatement, Merlin knew, but he appreciated Arthur's tact in not pointing out just how bad he had been with a sword a few short months ago. Merlin dabbed at his brow as well, wondering if he should abandon his cloak as Gwaine had done; cloaks were very majestic and impressive for day to day wear, but they were stiflingly hot and not very good as far as range of movement went.
"Mordred's been training me," he said by way of explanation. "He's a much more patient teacher than you ever were."
Arthur opened his mouth, looking indignant, but he was prevented from answering by a sword swinging towards his face. He blocked it hastily and allowed himself to be swallowed up by the battle once more, slipping into that place of hyperawareness and single-minded focus that made him such an incredibly dangerous opponent.
Merlin followed his lead, putting all conscious thought out of his head and focusing only on the physical things, the slight burn in his muscles, the thumping of his heart, the drag of air through his lungs, the almost-painful jolt that went through his arms with every clash of sword against sword.
They had been fighting for several long minutes when it became clear that the dynamic of the battle was changing. There seemed to be more and more opponents with every moment that passed, two foes replacing each one that he cut down. Morgana must have realized that the odds were not in her favor, that she did not have the element of surprise like she had thought she would, and sent in more men to turn the tide.
He and Arthur were forced back against Merlin's shield by the wave of men, struggling to hold their own against the influx of combatants. Merlin's arms were aching by now, unaccustomed to the prolonged sword use, and he could see a sheen of sweat on Arthur's brow, which was furrowed in intense concentration. Finally, Merlin forced his opponent back and quickly pulled the shield in until it collapsed into a dome around them.
"What the—?" Arthur spluttered in confusion, suddenly cut off from the person whom he had been facing. "Merlin, what are you doing?"
"You may want to hold onto something," Merlin advised, sinking down into a crouch.
Arthur, catching sight of his expression, wisely braced himself against the shield in anticipation of whatever it was that Merlin was going to do. Merlin placed one hand flat against the barrier, forging a stronger connection and compartmentalizing the energy required to maintain that spell, and reached for another thread of magic.
Raising his other hand high, he roared out, "Àhrère eorðan beneoðan min ealdorgewinnan!" and slammed it down.
The ground buckled under his palm, heaving violently. The shock wave rolled out and slammed into the men who had been trying to break through the shield, throwing them off of their feet. Merlin heard Arthur's shout of alarm as the earth pitched and rolled under him, but he did not respond. Cracks appeared in the earth's surface, spreading outward with alarming rapidity, and he made no move to stop them this time.
The mercenaries and sorcerers scrambled to get out of the way as the fissures widened, the ground opening up beneath their feet. Not all of them were quick enough, and dozens disappeared into the gaping crevices, swallowed up by the dank earth. The rest retreated in a blind panic, forcing their way through the battle in their haste to escape the terrifying fate that had befallen their comrades.
With no enemies to hold back anymore, Merlin let the shield fall, brushing off the dirt from his hands on his trousers as he stood. He turned to see Arthur gaping at him.
"What?" Merlin asked rather defensively, shuffling his feet and feeling a bit self-conscious at the massive outpouring of power that Arthur had just borne witness to.
It was not that he was not used to being the center of attention—he had become quite accustomed to it over his time in Carthis, oddity that he was—but being under such scrutiny from Arthur of all people, when he had spent so long and gone to such lengths to keep him from knowing of his magic at all, was a bit disconcerting.
Arthur seemed to pull himself out of his daze with a shake of his head.
"Nothing, just— Well. Hearing 'most powerful warlock' is one thing, but seeing it is another," he said apologetically. "Just a bit of a shock, that's all. It might take a little getting used to."
Merlin scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.
"Sorry," he murmured.
"Sorry? What are you sorry for, you dolt?" Arthur asked incredulously. "You just saved both of our lives and sent a good portion of Morgana's army into a full retreat. What on earth is there for you to be sorry for?"
"Force of habit, I supposed," he said with a shrug.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Come on then," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the gates; the fighting had spread into the city as more and more of Morgana's men forced their way past the front lines. Merlin made to follow him, but Arthur stopped in his tracks, looking back over the cracked and upheaved earth that had been left in the wake of Merlin's spell with a frown.
"You can put that right, can't you?" he asked.
It was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes then.
"Yes, of course I can put it right," he said petulantly. "What do you take me for?"
"An idiot, what else?" Arthur quipped, and he took off toward the castle before Merlin could retort.
Merlin followed with little more than a grumble, drawing his sword once more as they came upon more adversaries.
He spotted Gwaine again, engaged with two vicious-looking men but holding his own admirably. He saw Percival lift a man bodily from the ground and toss him into a crowd, knocking over another five men in the process. Leon and Elyan were back to back with Mordred and Lady Cecily, the mages deflecting the spells of the enemy sorcerers long enough for the knights to take them down.
That was not the only instance of that sort of teamwork to be seen and Merlin's heart swelled with pride until he felt that he might choke on it. To see the people of Camelot and Carthis fighting together, steel and magic working side by side in harmony, was more than he had ever dreamed possible, and yet here it was, all around him.
He threw himself into the fray with more vigor than ever before, fighting both with sword and with magic. He ceased to plan out his attacks after a while, letting instinct and training take over to the point where he did not have to consciously think at all. He simply allowed himself to move and found that he was actually directing the flow of battle around him, something that he had heard Arthur speak of but had not understood until this point.
He did not know how long he had been fighting—time seemed to run together—but it had to have been well over an hour, at least, by the time that something happened to break him from his single-minded focus.
It was like an alarm went off in his head, his magic clanging inside him in distress. The jolt of it broke his concentration in midstride and sent him crashing to his knees, his sword falling from his hand as he struggled to recover from his disorientation. Arthur was close enough to block the blow that flew toward him, which he would have missed in his distraction, and cut down the mercenary he had been fighting before hauling him to his feet again.
"Merlin! What is it?" he demanded, immediately scanning him for injuries.
Merlin did not answer immediately, the strange ringing of his magic still reverberating in his head and blocking out his thoughts. It took a long moment for Merlin to realize what it as that he had just felt, but then he gasped.
"What, Merlin, what is it?" Arthur repeated a bit frantically.
"Morgana has breached the citadel," Merlin breathed out.
"What?" Arthur yelped.
"The throne room. Morgana is in the throne room," Merlin said, urgently now. "Come on, let's go. There's no time to lose."
He recalled his sword to his hand with a stray tendril of magic and set off through the crowd without waiting to make sure that Arthur was following him. Morgana was there, she was in the castle right now, probably claiming Arthur's throne as her own yet again. It had to stop. The fighting, the quests for revenge, the bitterness and the hatred, all of it. He had to end this, he was the only one who could. He would put a stop to this here and now.
"Hold on a moment," Arthur said, grasping Merlin's arm and pulling him to a stop before he could disappear into the throng of bodies and swords and spells. "What on earth are you talking about, Merlin? How do you know where Morgana is?"
"I placed a spell on the throne room," Merlin said quickly; they didn't have time for this conversation. Morgana was already there, probably waiting for them. "It was meant to alert me if Morgana entered the chamber. And she has, and it did, so let's go."
He set off again even though Arthur had not released his arm and succeeded in dragging Arthur along with him. Arthur cursed vehemently but followed in his wake as they forced their way through the battle.
Mercenaries and sorcerers alike fell before them in droves and, wisely enough, no one pursued them when they reached the castle steps. They raced through the empty corridors, gratified to see that none of Morgana's foot soldiers had breached the citadel walls. The surge of pride that came over Merlin upon seeing just how effective his mages were was effectively doused when they reached the throne room and found two guards slumped at the base of the closed doors, obviously dead and without a mark on them.
Merlin stepped forward determinedly but Arthur pulled him to a stop.
"I want to speak with her alone," he said in that firm way that meant he expected to obeyed. That tone had never worked on Merlin when he was a servant and it certainly wouldn't work on him now.
"You what?" he demanded.
"I want to—"
"No, Arthur. No way am I letting you go in there alone!" Merlin said.
"Merlin, she doesn't know you're here. She's knows there are sorcerers, but she thinks I would never consent to ally myself with you. You're my secret weapon, and I don't want to clue her in to your presence until I absolutely have to."
"Arthur, she's dangerous. With magic like hers, she could strike you down in a second. You have practically no chance of defeating her alone, no matter how good you are with a sword," Merlin said insistently, trying to impress upon Arthur the lunacy of what he was proposing. Arthur was going to get himself killed trying to do this single-handedly. What happened to standing together in the face of their enemies?
But Arthur's resolute expression softened a bit and he glanced down for a moment, looking somehow younger in that moment.
"I need to talk with her, Merlin. She's still my sister," he said softly.
Merlin deflated almost immediately; he had always had trouble resisting Arthur's puppy-dog eyes.
"You'll be right outside the door. I can signal you in a second if I need help," Arthur said quickly, holding up his wrist to show the communication charm.
Merlin did not bother to point out that, if Morgana was really trying to kill him, Arthur was likely to be dead long before he managed to get a signal out. Instead, he held up his hands in surrender.
"Alright. Fine. Go get yourself killed, see what I care," he said grumpily.
Arthur raised an eyebrow at his easy capitulation; he had expected Merlin to put up much more of a fight, surely, but Merlin had a trick or two up his sleeve. There was no way in hell he was letting Arthur go in to face Morgana by himself, but Arthur didn't have to know that.
"I'll be right here. The second I hear anything that sounds like a fight, I'm coming in, and your heart-to-heart be damned," he said, trying to sound disgruntled at being left out.
Arthur nodded with a small, grateful smile that made Merlin feel the tiniest bit uncomfortable for his plan to insinuate himself into what was probably supposed to be a private moment.
Then Arthur pushed against the doors to the throne room and they opened with an ominous creak. Immediately, Merlin waved a hand over himself, murmuring, "Áhýde mé heáfodsiéne."
He felt the ripple down his spine, like the trickle of cold water across his skin, that meant he had done the spell properly; while they had yet to perfect weaving the spell into the cloth of a cloak, Merlin had become quite proficient at making himself invisible without the garment. With only the slightest hint of guilt at the subterfuge—he was not going to allow Arthur to put himself in danger, to go in without backup—Merlin slipped in through the throne room door with Arthur and allowed it to fall shut behind him.
The sight that met his eyes was not an unexpected one. Morgana was alone, in the same torn black lace dress as always, and lounging easily in the throne. She had a sword in her hand, presumably taken off of one of the unfortunate guards she had killed, and she was cleaning underneath her nails with the tip of it, completely unconcerned.
She looked up when the doors opened and a grin spread across her face as Arthur strode into the room, seemingly unaccompanied. Merlin fell back to stand a few paces behind Arthur, careful to keep his steps light enough that they did not echo in the cavernous chamber and give away his presence.
"Fancy seeing you here, brother dear," Morgana said lightly, as if they had just run into each other in the marketplace and not in the throne room of a besieged kingdom.
"This needs to end, Morgana," Arthur said, but she ignored him.
"I have to say, I expected you to fight back, but certainly not like this," Morgana continued as if he had not spoken at all, "I always knew that you were a spineless coward, Arthur, but I never would have pegged you for a hypocrite. Burning sorcerers in the square in times of peace and then exploiting them when it suits you? That's low, Arthur, even for a Pendragon."
"There have been no burnings since I became king. The pyre belonged solely to my father's reign," Arthur said.
There had been few executions at all, Merlin recalled, and then only when the crimes were evident and the sentence unavoidable. Unlike his father, who had wanted magic users to suffer for their sins, Arthur did not enjoy taking life, no matter the crime committed, and he preferred to do so in the most humane way possible. Beheading was merciful when compared to an agonizing death by fire.
"And you think that exonerates you?" Morgana asked, scoffing lightly. "The blood on your hands will not be washed off so easily."
"And what of the blood on yours?" Arthur retorted. "You began this war, Morgana, not me."
"I didn't start this," Morgana said sharply. "I simply fought back against the reign of terror Uther instigated over my kind." Her sprawling position on Arthur's throne was not nearly so languid now, the tension growing with her anger. The sword was tight in her grip, but she made no move to use it. "If I hadn't, I would surely be dead by now."
"Would you?" Arthur shook his head. "Morgana, if you had simply come to me in the beginning. Do you really think I would have turned you away?"
"You mean like you did Merlin?" she shot back.
Arthur flinched and Merlin knew that she had struck a low blow. A smile curled on her face as she saw the same thing. She slid from the throne in one fluid motion and cocked her head to the side.
"Merlin," she purred, gliding toward him. The tip of her sword dragged along the floor, sparking against the stones. "Sweet, innocent, loyal Merlin. Who would have thought that he'd be such a liar?"
She circled Arthur slowly, watching him with sharp, cruel eyes. Arthur did not rise to the bait, though Merlin could see how tightly his jaw was clenched and the way his hands were curled into fists at his sides.
"Don't feel too bad, brother. He lied to me too. At least we have that much in common." She laughed, low and throaty, as she came up close behind him. She leaned in to speak directly into his ear and Merlin itched to pull Arthur away from her.
"Tell me, Arthur. How does it feel to be betrayed by everyone you ever held dear?"
"Merlin never betrayed me," Arthur said immediately, and Merlin was a little taken aback at the fierceness of the claim, though his heart swelled to hear it.
It gave Morgana pause as well. She drew back around him slowly and surveyed him through a narrowed gaze. Arthur held his ground, eyes blazing.
"Well, well, Arthur. Defending a sorcerer? What would Uther think?" she said tauntingly.
"I'm sure our father would be horrified by us both," Arthur said.
Morgana's blasé expression hardened considerably.
"Gorlois was my father," she said icily.
"And what would Gorlois think of you now? Do you think he would be proud of what you've become?"
Merlin shifted on his feet, readying himself as Morgana bared her teeth in a snarl.
"I have become what I needed to in order to survive," Morgana growled. "I am what Uther made of me."
"And you are more like him than I ever was."
"Uther is no father of mine!" Morgana shrieked suddenly.
"If Uther is not your father, then you have no right to his kingdom," Arthur said, un-intimidated even as sparks of magic formed unconsciously in Morgana's free hand. "You cannot deny his name one day and claim his throne the next. Is that not hypocrisy as well?"
"You do not deserve this throne any more than Uther did," she said, ignoring his words entirely. "Gutless murderers, the both of you, slaughtering everyone who disagrees with you."
"And you think you're any better?" Arthur demanded. "You ordered innocent civilians shot to force my knights to bow to you. You are no different from Uther!"
And suddenly Morgana's sword was at his throat, forcing him a step back. Merlin nearly blasted her off her feet right then, but she made no move to slit Arthur's throat. She was painfully still, the violent anger from earlier in the confrontation abruptly gone.
"Careful what you say, Arthur," she said, almost sweetly. "I'm afraid you're at a bit of a disadvantage." She lifted the blade slightly so that it forced Arthur's chin up, exposing his throat more fully, and Merlin held his breath, his eager magic making his fingertips burn.
"But I'm feeling generous today," she said after a long pause. She stepped back and gestured for Arthur to arm himself. "One duel, for old times' sake. I won't even use magic. Cross my heart."
Merlin held his breath as Arthur deliberated. A part of him wanted Arthur to refuse her, to use the communication charm to call for him, but another part—the part that had convinced him to allow Arthur the chance to speak with her in the first place—acknowledged that Arthur needed this. Morgana's descent into darkness had hurt them all, surely, but it was Arthur whom she had betrayed most, Arthur whose kingdom she coveted, and Arthur whose life she repeatedly threatened. It might be that she was fated to die by Merlin's hand, but Arthur deserved to face her as much as Merlin did. And so Merlin stayed his hand and waited for Arthur to decide.
The first crash of steel on steel made Merlin cringe, but he did not intervene. He would not step in until the first spell had been cast, until Arthur was clearly out of his depth. Morgana was a talented swordswoman, she always had been, but Arthur was more than a match for her when it came down to steel and sinew. She was keeping her promise, for now at least, and not employing magic to turn the tide of the battle in her favor. She blocked and parried and lunged in tandem with Arthur, the two of them moving so quickly that it looked like a well-choreographed dance.
Merlin moved closer to watch more carefully but neither of them seemed able to get the upper hand. Their blades locked together for a moment and when Morgana pushed Arthur off, she managed to knock him the slightest bit off balance. It wasn't enough to provide her with an opening, but she smirked anyway.
"Remind you of the time when I used to beat you?" she said smugly, and Merlin sighed heavily, a dull ache taking up residence in his chest; the last time he had heard her say that had been in Ealdor nearly ten years ago.
It had been funny then, light and teasing despite the battle raging around them. Now it felt like a blow of its own, and Arthur's huff of near-laughter contrasted sharply with the pained grimaced on his face.
"That still never happened," he shot back, though he sounded a bit choked.
Then Morgana threw herself at him again and the moment of nostalgia was past, replaced once more with the fury of combat. Though Arthur was by far the better swordsman, Morgana's volatility made it difficult for Arthur to predict her movements as he usually could. She lashed out quick as a striking viper without any warning, she feinted twice in the same direction without ever trying to land a blow, she retreated in the middle of a maneuver and left Arthur stumbling through a block against a sword that was no longer there. It was maddening, and yet she still could not break through Arthur's defenses.
Merlin watched anxiously, his magic thrumming under his skin and jumping whenever Morgana's blade came anywhere near Arthur, but he held himself in. This was Arthur's fight, he reminded himself, and he would not thank Merlin for interfering. The sounds of battle floated up from the courtyard, growing louder by the minute, but Merlin could not afford to look away from the duel at hand.
He paid them no heed until a piercing shriek rang out over the noise, followed by hoarse cries and shouts of panic. When a wave of what was unmistakably fire shot past the throne room's windows Merlin's attention was finally diverted.
"Is that…?" Arthur gasped, seeing a huge form sparkling white in the mid-afternoon sunlight.
He paid for his lapse in concentration when Morgana nearly took his arm off with a wild swing of her sword, a manic grin on her face.
"Not even your ill-gotten sorcerers can stop a dragon," she crowed triumphantly, forcing Arthur back with a flurry of blows.
"Maybe not," Merlin said grimly, letting his invisibility spell fall as he crossed determinedly to the window. "But I can."
Morgana sputtered indignantly at his sudden appearance, but Merlin ignored her; he could not remain hidden when one of his kin was raining flames down upon innocent people. Aithusa was his responsibility and he would be damned if he allowed anyone else to die by dragon fire. Merlin left Arthur to distract Morgana, pushing open the window and roaring to the sky.
"Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai!"
Aithusa shrieked again, writhing in the air as he fought against the command, but he could not disobey his Lord. The white dragon turned and disappeared over the trees to the east, toward Carthis and Kilgharrah as Merlin had ordered.
"No!" Morgana screamed.
She raised a hand to Merlin's back, obviously intending to avenge herself the loss of her loyal friend.
Arthur took advantage of her distraction and lunged forward, knocking the sword from her other hand and catching her across the side. It wasn't a mortal wound, hardly worth the pain it caused, but it was enough to send her sprawling across the ground.
Arthur leveled his sword at her chest and sent an irritated look at Merlin, who hastened to his side and gave him an apologetic shrug. Arthur rolled his eyes but did not seem overly upset at the deception. They both turned their attention back to their fallen foe, who was looking between them with wide, wild eyes.
"No!" she repeated. "He's a traitor, Arthur! How can you stand by his side?"
"I told you before, Morgana," Arthur said staunchly. "Merlin never betrayed me. The only traitor here is you."
Morgana tried to push herself off the ground, but she found that both Arthur's sword and Merlin's raised hand were keeping her where she was. Her hand, the one not clutching at her wounded side, strayed to her necklace, clutching it tightly in what seemed to be a gesture of comfort. It made her look small and vulnerable, more like the person she used to be so long ago.
"I'm sorry that things have to end this way, Morgana," Merlin said, his voice heavy with the regret that only years of mistakes could bring. "I blame myself for what you've become."
"I wish that things could have been different," Arthur said. "That you could be standing with us, rather than against us."
What regret and compassion had still lingered on Arthur's face dissipated, leaving behind a mask of resignation and resolve. His sword was steady, aimed as it was at her heart.
"But the time for leniency and forgiveness has long since passed. And after all the harm you have caused, there is but one course of action left to us."
Whatever he had intended to say next was cut off when light began to seep between Morgana's fingers where they were clutched at her neck. She released her hold and looked down at the talisman. Merlin and Arthur looked at it too. Merlin gasped in horror; that pendant, carved with delicate runes and emitting a faint white light, was chillingly familiar. He bore an identical pendant around his own wrist, and Arthur did as well.
His mind ground to a halt at the disturbing realization, confusion and disbelief fighting against the sight before him. But even stunned as he was, Merlin could hardly fail to miss the wicked smile that spread across Morgana's face as she raised her eyes to meet his.
"Well. If I can't have Arthur's kingdom," she drawled, "then I guess I'll just have to settle for yours."
She pulled from her pocket another shockingly familiar object, a tricolored amulet on a leather cord, once again ringed in runes. She held it in her hand and began to chant, speaking so quickly that, by the time Merlin had recovered from the shock of seeing a transportation crystal—his own invention—in the hands of his enemy, she was already engulfed in a swirl of wind and magic. It was only then, in the stark silence that followed her disappearance, that Merlin's thoughts unfroze and began whirring at rather alarming speeds.
How had Morgana gotten her hands on a transportation crystal? Merlin had invented them himself a scant few weeks ago. There were only so many in existence, and they certainly had not begun to trade with them yet. As far as Merlin knew, knowledge of them had yet to even cross the border, much less have time to reach Morgana's ear.
And even more confusing and worrisome than that, she had a communication charm. Those charms had only been functional for a maximum of three days and there couldn't be more than a dozen of them made yet. How on earth had she gotten her hands on one of them in that short a time? Merlin had only learned of them the night before from his cousin, and Ellison had only known because his father was the one who—
Merlin gasped, his hand flying to his temple as a spike of pain shot through his skull. Arthur was calling his name, or perhaps Arthur had been calling him for a while, but he was too busy searching his mind for the cause of the sudden sting. It took him precious moments to recognize it for what it was, but horror flooded him when he did. Morgana had crossed the Barrier into Carthis. He knew her aura well enough to sense her passage through it, the dark wrongness of her magic like a nail in his skull.
Merlin grasped at his hair, trying to draw the disparate facts together as Arthur continued to try and get his attention, sounding more concerned by the minute as Merlin failed to respond to his words. Morgana had gotten hold of items that she should have had no access to. She had Merlin's own invention, and an even more recent development that even the king had not known about. She had crossed into his kingdom.
No, she had been let into his kingdom. But by whom? Only a select few had the authority to open a passage through the Barrier. Even fewer had access to the transportation crystals and knowledge of the communication charms. And of that small number, only one had reason to betray him.
"Lord Tennison."