A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, GuestM, Buckhunter, pallysAramisRios, 29Pieces, and PadrePedro for reviewing!

I made some art for this fic, though only a portion of it shows up in the cover holder on ff. You can see the full image on my tumblr aini-nufire under My Graphics.

Chapter 8

"I have found it," Morgana said, eyes alight with glee. "The seal on the prison."

The Dochraid shifted in agitation. "You cannot do this, Morgana Pendragon. Summoning the Darkness will only lead us all to destruction."

"I have to become more powerful than Emrys!" she spat, whirling on the ancient hag. "It is the only way."

"The Darkness will exact a heavy price," the Dochraid warned. "It will consume part of your soul."

"I don't care." What good was her soul when she had no one left to love.

Morgana departed from the Dochraid's cave and made her way to the hidden ruins. The stone seal was half buried in moss and dead foliage, innocuous looking. Morgana bent down and pressed a palm to the cold granite. Summoning up her magic, she uttered a long string of words in the Old Religion, calling forth the being that lay slumbering deep within the abyss of the earth.

The ground shook and groaned. Morgana poured more magic into it, straining against the forces trying to withstand her. With one final cry and mental push, the stone cracked, loud and sharp like thunder. A deep, reverberating hiss issued up from within. Morgana straightened and staggered back a step. She could feel it even up here, the raw, primordial power.

"Hear me!" she shouted. "Fill my vessel with your power so I may lay waste to the world you loathe."

Susurrations whispered on the air, brushing against Morgana's ear and making her flinch. They spoke of a price.

She lifted her chin. "I accept."

The ground shook again, and black smoke came shooting up from the crack. It swirled in a maelstrom above her head before shooting down and plunging into her mouth and nose. Morgana's body jerked under the invasion. The shadows swirled around her soul, and she felt a piece of it break off as though cloven in two, and she screamed.

The darkness filled the void, weaving into the frayed threads of what was left behind. Morgana felt it settle into her body, her mind, her very essence. When she raised her head again, she was thrumming with power.

Now she was ready to wage war.

Lancelot kept to the outskirts of the returning troop, on guard in case any of those demons had escaped the battle and were roaming loose. He heard a voice call his name from a distance and stopped to look around. No one was looking his way, the men too busy trudging along. He heard it again, the tenor familiar.

"Percival?" Lancelot cast his gaze up and down the line of knights but didn't spot his old friend.

"Come look at something."

Lancelot turned, the voice coming from off to the side in the woods. Frowning, he hopped over the trickling stream and ventured a short ways into the forest. "Where are you?"

"Over here!" Gwaine called.

Lancelot furrowed his brows. What were they doing? He narrowed his senses to home in on the sound of their voices, making his way deeper into the woods. He finally spotted them up ahead, standing on the other side of some trees so that Lancelot could only make out the backs of their heads and shoulders.

"What is it?" Lancelot asked, coming around the trunks. He pulled up short at the sight that greeted him.

Percival and Gwaine were bound in vines from head to foot, completely restrained and gagged by the fleshy shoots. Wide, frantic eyes met Lancelot's, but neither of them made a sound with the vines wound around their throats as well.

Lancelot shot his hand toward his sword, but more vines came shooting out from behind and lashing around his arms, legs, torso, and neck. They immediately yanked him backward and through the air, slamming him back against the face of a rock overhang and pinning him there.

Morgana stepped into view. "Knights of Camelot are always so gullible." It was her lips moving, but it was Gwaine's voice that came out, and Lancelot noticed the vine around the knight's throat glowed in sync with Morgana's speaking.

Lancelot struggled as the cords coiled around him more tightly, and he clenched his fist, trying to mentally take hold of the plant and wrench it away.

"Ah, ah," Morgana tutted, raising a hand.

The vines around Percival's and Gwaine's throats instantly constricted, their eyes blowing wide as their air was cut off.

Morgana fixed Lancelot with a warning glare. "Don't."

He glowered back at her but released his fist. Thinner shoots came crawling over his palms and fingers, strapping them down so he couldn't move a muscle.

Morgana stalked forward. "Who brought you back?" she demanded. "Was it Emrys?"

Lancelot gritted his teeth as the vines pressed harder against his body. "You messed with forces you shouldn't have, Morgana. It set in motion things beyond your understanding."

She bared her teeth at him in a sneer. "Nothing is beyond my power now. Not even you."

Morgana drew her arms and shoulders back. Darkness began to bleed out from beneath her, rising up and filling the air with shadow. Lancelot could feel the weight of its primal presence as every bit of light in the woods seemed to cower away from it. Then it shot forward, thick, cloying smoke forcing its way into Lancelot's mouth and nose. His head slammed back against the rock behind him, but he couldn't move, couldn't fight it as more and more of the black brume shot down his throat and permeated every nook and cranny of his body. Lancelot writhed and choked under the assault. The Darkness penetrated his mind, delving deeper into his very essence and coating every inch in its all-consuming magnitude. He tried to access the spark in his soul to banish the invading force, but the Darkness seemed to notice and shot straight for it. Lancelot didn't have time to unleash the light before it was enshrouded in an opaque blackness and snuffed out.

Everything suddenly went still. Calm. Numb.

"Look at me."

He lifted his head. His body thrummed with a torpid pulsation, shadows pumping through his veins instead of blood. The world was in muted shadows, dim, dead, save for the beating black aura of the one he was bound to.

Her lips curved upward as she regarded him.

"Let's see Arthur win without his champion."

"Hey, anyone seen Gwaine and Percival?" Merlin spoke up.

Arthur paused in his tracks and looked around. They were all so weary after the battle against those monsters earlier that most of them had just been focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as they made their way home.

"I think they stopped for water," Leon said, also looking around.

"Gwaine probably decided to take a nap," Elyan joked.

"I don't see Lancelot either," Leon added. "Should we go look for them?"

"I'll do it," Merlin said. "You all keep going ahead."

"Don't you stop for a nap somewhere," Arthur lobbed after him.

Merlin just rolled his eyes and trotted off.

The knights continued their trek homeward. At their slogging pace, the castle was still another hour away, but the sooner they reached it, the sooner they could all rest. Though, Arthur didn't know for how long they would have a respite before the next big threat to the kingdom, and the world at large. He knew they'd emerged victorious from each trial thus far, but his people and knights were taking a beating. Arthur wondered how much more they would be put through and what victory in the end would even look like. Would there be much of a kingdom left standing?

"King Arthur!" someone shouted in alarm.

Arthur stopped yet again, turning to find the source of the call. His gaze was drawn to the rear of the company where several knights were looking out at something behind them. For a moment, he thought something might have happened to Gwaine or Percival, and he pushed his way to the back of the troop. He spotted Lancelot's bright cape several yards away, then pulled up short in shock and dismay to see Morgana standing beside him.

Arthur's hand went to his sword. "Lancelot?" he called in confusion. The knight didn't respond.

Morgana grinned devilishly. "Destroy them."

Lancelot immediately drew his sword and strode forward.

"Lancelot, what are you doing?" Arthur shouted.

Lancelot didn't say anything or slow down, and as he drew closer, Arthur's breath caught in his throat at the sight of his eyes, which were solid black marble. He was under some kind of enchantment.

Some of the knights at the rear of the company drew their swords in response and lunged to meet him. Lancelot lashed out like a cobra, cutting three men down in three successive strikes and not losing a step as he continued straight for Arthur.

More knights jumped between him and their king. The strident screech of steel rang out, followed by pained cries as Lancelot mowed them down.

"Lancelot!" Elyan pleaded. "Snap out of it!"

He and Leon threw their blades up to join the fight as other knights tried to come at Lancelot from all sides all at once. Lancelot swung his sword in a full circle with such force that the gust of wind alone flattened every knight to the ground.

Arthur finally yanked Excalibur from its scabbard as Lancelot reached him and flung the blade up to block a blow coming down on his head. The two swords met with a resounding peal and sparks, and Arthur was jarred by the force behind Lancelot's. He staggered back a step and barely got his blade up in time as Lancelot struck again. Arthur managed to keep the sword from stabbing him through the heart, but the momentum scraped it down the length of his own blade and into his shoulder. Arthur cried out from the shock of it and stumbled backward.

Before Lancelot could finish him off, the other knights were launching another attack. It didn't matter, though. Lancelot spun to meet each one, thrusting and parrying in a whirlwind of death.

And nothing could stop him.

Merlin tromped through the woods, following the small stream back the way they'd come in case Gwaine and Percival were still by it. But there was no sign them. Or Lancelot. Merlin knew he didn't really need to worry about the nearly immortal knight, but where could they have gotten to and why?

He spotted a waterskin lying on the bank of the stream, and his worry kicked up several notches as he jogged over to pick it up. It looked like Gwaine's. Merlin whipped his gaze around the area. There were no bodies that he could see. But there were some large swishes through the mud and dirt leading away from the stream and deeper into the forest. Like drag marks.

Merlin slung the waterskin over his shoulder and set off following the trail. Everything was quiet, and Merlin decided to draw his sword to be on the safe side.

He rounded a rock overhang, only to freeze on the spot when he found Gwaine and Percival tied to some trees by a bunch of vines. Their eyes widened and they made muffled sounds against the ivy covering their mouths. Merlin looked around but didn't see anyone else, so he strode forward and raised his sword to hack away at the vines. They were coiled so firmly around their prisoners that Merlin had to start with the base, but that was enough to get them to loosen and Gwaine was able to wiggle free. Merlin went to release Percival next.

"What happened?" he asked as they scrambled away from the shoots.

"Morgana," Gwaine spat. "We have to warn Arthur. She's enchanted Lancelot."

Merlin's heart jolted. "What?"

"She lured him here using us," Percival explained, expression pinched with abject fear. "Then she used that shadow magic on him, turned him into her puppet."

Merlin spun back toward the direction he'd left the army. "How long ago?"

"Not long," Gwaine said, keeping pace behind him.

They hurried through the woods. Merlin heard clashing steel ringing in the distance, and he burst into an all-out run. But they were too late. As they emerged from the forest, Merlin caught sight of Lancelot fighting against the knights of Camelot, wielding both sword and elements against them. He frantically searched for Arthur and spotted him struggling to his feet. And not much further beyond the battle stood Morgana, watching with ravenous delight.

"There's no way to stop him," Gwaine breathed.

Merlin flicked his gaze between Lancelot and Morgana, chest compressing with the knowledge of what he had to do. "Yes, there is."

He turned and ducked back into the cover of the tree line, making his way along the edge toward Morgana.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted, sprinting after him. "What the hell do you think you're going to do against their power?"

Merlin skidded to a stop and looked back at him and Percival. "I have magic," he blurted.

Gwaine and Percival exchanged sputtering looks with each other, and Merlin left them in their bewilderment to hurry his way up behind Morgana. The cries of the knights Lancelot was cutting down echoed through the air.

"Morgana!" Merlin shouted.

She cast a look over her shoulder and smirked. "Well hello, Merlin. Glorious, isn't he?" She turned back toward the fight. "I think I shall make Sir Lancelot my consort when Arthur is dead and the throne is mine."

Merlin drew his shoulders back, his heart racing as he prepared to do the one thing he had avoided his entire life—reveal himself. "I won't let that happen, Morgana. Emrys won't let that happen."

Her expression faltered as she turned around to fully face him. "You know of Emrys?" she asked tightly.

Merlin lifted his chin. "I am Emrys."

She gaped at him for a long moment, fear and confusion chasing each other across her face. "You?" she finally exclaimed with a delirious sounding laugh. "That's impossible. You're nothing but a servant."

Merlin held his hand out and uttered a spell to summon forth fire. His magic surged, and flames burst up to hover in his palm.

Morgana staggered back a step, eyes flashing with terror. "You…" She let out a horrendous scream that rattled the air like thunder.

Out in the field, Lancelot immediately halted his attack on the knights and pivoted sharply to come to Morgana's call, just as Merlin had been hoping he would. Morgana's fear of Emrys overrode everything else.

"Kill him!" she shrieked, pointing at Merlin.

Lancelot stormed toward him, solid black eyes unfocused yet deadly, and Merlin turned and ran back into the woods. He may have just revealed himself to his archenemy, but he had no intention of duking it out with an enchanted Lancelot in front of Arthur and half the knights of Camelot. Assuming he had the strength to defeat a partially immortal, magic wielding warrior of the apocalypse…

Merlin scrambled through the forest until a gust of wind slammed into him from behind, shoving him face first to the ground. Gasping at the pain shooting through his spine, he forced himself to roll over and get to his feet. Lancelot was striding toward him, sword raised.

Merlin thrust his hand out and uttered a spell that sent him flying backward into a tree. Lancelot hit with a thud and dropped, but he landed in a crouch and rose stiffly again. Letting his sword fall from his grip, he swept his hands over each other and pushed outward. Merlin braced himself for another wind attack, but there was a sharp crack instead and a chunk of rock came flying at him. Merlin dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding getting crushed.

Rolling onto his stomach, he cast another spell that broke a branch off from the tree behind Lancelot, and the limb clobbered him from behind. But still that wasn't enough to keep him down. Lancelot straightened and summoned fire between his palms.

Merlin frantically used an incantation to ignite his own, and they both launched the fireballs at the same time. The crackling masses collided midway between them with an explosive shockwave that knocked both of them down.

Merlin gritted his teeth as he wracked his brain for what to do. Lancelot might have been a little more invulnerable than the run-of-the-mill mortal, but Merlin wasn't going to risk going for a death blow. He had to stop him somehow, though.

Lancelot was getting up and picked up his sword again. Merlin scrambled backward, fumbling for a spell.

"Hey!" Gwaine shouted.

Lancelot turned toward him, and Merlin took the split second distraction to slam Lancelot with the heaviest spell he could call to mind. It sent him sailing backward several yards through the air, and this time when he struck the tree, the trunk splintered from the impact. Merlin flinched at the horrendous sound and watched in horror as Lancelot dropped to the ground and this time stayed still. The top half of the tree buckled under the shattered trunk and began to topple.

"Look out!" Merlin yelled and darted out of the way.

The branches came crashing down with another reverberating thud and more snapping of wood. And then the forest fell silent.

Merlin whipped his gaze around for Gwaine and spotted him and Percival making their way forward, unharmed. He then whirled toward Lancelot, afraid he'd be getting up again, but he remained unmoving where he'd fallen. Merlin approached him cautiously.

"Is he dead?" Percival asked tautly.

Merlin slowly knelt down and reached for Lancelot's jaw. He felt a sluggish pulse, but he yanked his hand back because he could feel the pure evil churning inside him.

"He's alive." Merlin swallowed hard and tentatively reached for Lancelot's back to feel up and down his spine, terrified he'd find shattered bones, which would prove fatal. But nothing gave where it wasn't supposed to. Either Lancelot's enhanced physical strength as he called it or the Darkness within him had kept him intact.

"Now what?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin let out a shaky breath and looked up at his unexpected allies. "We need to find a secure place where I can try to remove the enchantment."

"The caves aren't far from here," Gwaine replied.

"That'll work."

Merlin backed up as Percival moved in and slung Lancelot over his shoulder. Then they made their way through the woods to the network of caves they had once sought shelter in when Morgana and Morgause had taken Camelot. Merlin hoped no one would think to look for them there.

He hoped Morgana couldn't track Lancelot through the Darkness she'd infected him with.

They reached the caves and made their way inside where Percival laid Lancelot on the ground. At least he remained out cold. Merlin did not want to have to fight him again.

"Can you break the enchantment?" Percival asked worriedly.

Merlin's mouth pressed into a tight line, and instead of answering, he took up position over Lancelot and stretched out his hand. Percival and Gwaine instinctively stepped back.

Merlin didn't have a spell for this, didn't know what he was doing, but he was going to try his hardest to save his friend. And so he focused on the magic within and the instincts that had given it life ever since he was a child, before he knew what the Old Religion or sorcery was. Calling forth that inner power, he let the words of magic pour from his mouth, deep and guttural and primal.

Lancelot's back arched, though he didn't open his eyes or make a sound. Merlin heard the Darkness inside him, though, heard it thrashing as it fought to cling to its host. Merlin shouted the spell again, eyes blazing gold and lighting up the entire cave. The shadows shrieked. Merlin commanded it to leave that vessel.

"He doesn't belong to you."

Lancelot's mouth burst open and black smoke came streaming out. Merlin concentrated all his effort on drawing out every last speck of its essence, until the last trailing end whooshed out and Lancelot fell limp.

The Darkness writhed and shrilled in the air, and Merlin lowered his voice and intoned another spell. Blue light speared it like shards of ice, and the essence screeched and thrashed more. The light blazed brighter, and with one final explosion, incinerated the Stygian shadows.

Merlin's shoulders slumped with sudden exhaustion, but he stumbled forward and dropped to his knees beside Lancelot to check for a heartbeat. It was there, still sluggish but very much alive. And Merlin didn't detect a trace of that vile presence left inside him.

"Will he be all right?" Percival broke the silence.

Merlin rocked back on his haunches. "He's free of the enchantment. Now we just have to wait for him to wake up."

And hope the damage Morgana had wrought wasn't irreparable.