A/N: I don't know if any of my original readers will still be reading this. If you are, I'm sorry for the one-year gap. Stick with me a little longer and I'll try and pick this back up. X

"Son of a whore," Nimueh murmured.

She had felt a sudden jolt—of life, she supposed, even though it felt an awful lot like lightning, and then she had looked down to find her hands had lost their transparency. She had actually stumbled on her parapet and almost fallen (ending her newfound life) because she had forgotten the immense weight that came with having a real body. The old man had finally died, and that meant that his pet sorcerer would be on his way. She could feel his approach. He was practically a bullet of rage and power and Nimueh began to laugh, and below her her beautiful, hideous soldiers shuffled soundlessly into formation. She could see Merlin on the horizon… and then he turned around.

"Son of a whore."

For a moment she stood frozen, too confused to be angry. A battle strategy, maybe. It had to be. Surely he was banking around somewhere, to strike from the back. Gaius was dead. Nimueh could feel Merlin's fury; hell, every Druid within a thousand miles probably felt it, too. So why did he turn?

"No matter," Nimueh held her hand out at length, admiring the milk-white, unblemished skin. "If you don't want to play… I can come to you."

Arthur was watching from the windows of his chamber when he caught sight of the black silhouette, barely visible as it coursed through the night sky. By the time he made it out to the courtyard, Merlin was a man once again, staring out at the woods with slumped shoulders.

"I ought to put you back on polishing duty for running off like that," he joked, albeit hesitantly. "You had-"

me

"-us all worried."

"I thought I was lost," Merlin said distantly. "You brought me back." He turned away from the woods, fixing Arthur with a strange, hollow look. "How did you do that? Even Kilgharrah couldn't get through."

"Likmus used a spell." He said it nonchalantly but the sorcerer grew rigid, his face drawn.

"Arthur, that man is dangerous."

"He's the reason I was able to bring you back at all, Merlin. Why—"

"He's a liar, Arthur. Likmus is evil. He used to hunt dragons!"

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Merlin's eyes widened.

"You knew."

Arthur opened his mouth and then closed it, crossing his arms over his chest. He had been a fraction away from telling Merlin everything right there and then, but it wasn't the time.

"He mentioned something like that," he said instead, and the warlock looked angry, but not as angry as he might have been. He merely gritted his teeth before speaking.

"I need to speak with him."

"Merlin—"

"Relax. I'm not going to eat him or anything." There was a dark cast to his face which made his comment seem deadly serious. "As much as it…disgusts me—"

"That's not fair," Arthur protested, but Merlin continued, unperturbed.

"I might need his help." He looked physically nauseated. "I can't beat Nimueh on my own."

"We can go see him tomorrow," the king suggested, but Merlin shook his head.

"No. Now." The ex-servant now spoke with a newfound authority to his voice that Arthur almost admired. "Nimueh's got a massive army, and it's some very dark magic. I don't know what she's waiting for, but when she comes, we've got to be ready."

"This way," Arthur said, and he prayed fervently that Likmus had put away the damned pestle and mortar.

The Druid had apparently been sleeping before the two men burst into his room. Arthur had made to knock on the door, but Merlin burst past him.

"Wake up, Arbos," he said, and his eyes glowed as the quilt flew off of the sleeping man's back and across the room.

"Arbos?" Arthur repeated. "His name is—"

"My lord, is something the matter?" The Druid sat up, disheveled, and when his gaze landed on Merlin, it became a look of hostile surprise. He quickly shook himself, taking on a polite confusion, but the unfriendly look had not been lost on Merlin.

"I believe you've met the—"

"What do you know about dark armies?" Arthur had never seen his friend so antagonistic, and he was taken aback.

"I'm afraid I don't—"

"There's an army at least 500 strong approaching from the Isle of the Blessed."

"500 is hardly a fearsome—"

"They're not human soldiers, Likmus. I've never seen anything like it."

"That's very old magic," Likmus said musingly. "I believe I came across it in the Triple Goddess texts—"

Merlin was out the door before Likmus could finish.