"Arthur Pendragon," Arthur looked up from the warm bowl in his hands to meet Iseldir's searching eyes. The use of his full name made him feel like a child being scolded, but it was likely the most respectful address he could expect from the druids. After everything they had suffered under his father's reign, by his own hand, he knew he was not their King.

"What do you know of magic?" the question was posed without judgment.

Arthur considered the older man and chose his words carefully, "I was taught that magic is evil, that it corrupts those who practice it," shame overcame him and he added apologetically, "I know that to be false now."

The druid regarded him with perceiving eyes, "What would you say if I told you that was not entirely wrong?"

Arthur was shocked. Surely this druid hadn't just admitted his father was right about magic? "What do you mean?" he sought clarification.

Iseldir sighed. "Magic is neither good nor evil. It is life, woven in the very fabric of the world. But there was a time people misused it for their own ends. They threatened the natural balance, causing chaos and destruction. Your father attempted to restore order, but failed to grasp the true nature of the problem: it is not magic that corrupts the hearts of men – it is power."

Arthur listened, enraptured. It made sense. He had witnessed men commit heinous acts, regardless of magic. His own father had abused his power of King to sentence women and children to the pyre. And then there was Merlin – loyal, clumsy, humble – and a sorcerer. It was not as simple as his father would have had him believe; magic could not be evil because Merlin could not be evil.

But then the image of Merlin from moments ago…darkened by storm clouds, hair blowing wildly, eyes golden…in that instance, Merlin had become the very visage of everything he feared about magic.

Iseldir observed the man in quiet contemplation before him. Except for the magnificent sword at his side, one would not guess he was the Once and Future King. Clothed in naught but plain trousers, a red tunic, and muddy boots, he sat hunched over his knees, cupping a simple, wooden bowl.

"How well do you know Emrys?" Iseldir finally asked, breaking Arthur out of his reverie.

The question surprised Arthur at how it mirrored his thoughts. He had the fleeting notion the druid could read his mind.

"Merlin-" he searched for a succinct way to describe his best friend of near a decade, "…he has always proven himself to be brave and just and kind…" remembering how Merlin's face had contorted with bitterness and spite, Arthur shuddered, "…at least, I thought so."

Iseldir sighed, placing his bowl on the ground, "I have no doubt he is as you say," Arthur looked up at him, almost hopeful. Sympathy softened Iseldir's countenance. With such a great destiny, it was easy to forget the man before him was still very young.

"When I first met Emrys, he was not what I expected. Here was the greatest sorcerer prophesized by my people and he was but a boy…" the corner of his mouth upturned slightly, "and servant to a Pendragon, no less."

Arthur cringed, but Iseldir continued, "Have you not wondered why the Old Religion chose Merlin? He is not a noble, not a druid, nor a sage…or King," he raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "You are the Once and Future King, destined to unite the lands of Albion. Surely, you would have been a better choice to wield such power?"

Arthur immediately scoffed, "It's a good thing I wasn't born with it. According to Merlin, I was a royal prat," he chuckled and added under his breath, "probably still am."

Iseldir leaned forward, "Then why Merlin? Why was a peasant, no one of importance, bestowed such a great destiny?" he paused and gave Arthur time to think.

Arthur's brow furrowed as he ruminated into his soup. The first time Arthur met Merlin came to mind. The peasant boy had challenged him, the Prince, in defense of a servant. A smile spread across his face.

"Merlin never feared to question what was right for the sake of fairness," he remembered Merlin nudging him to knight those who were worthy by deed, rather than birth, "…and honor…" and when Merlin had passionately proclaimed arranged marriages as a sign of insanity, "…and love." Their exchange before facing a dragon together popped into his head and he rolled his eyes, "and occasionally the bumbling idiot spouts words of wisdom that…" his eyes widened. The sword in the stone. He scoffed aloud. Of course he hadn't pulled a sword out of solid stone on his own. Arthur let out a deep sigh, "well…that supported me when I needed it most."

Iseldir remained quiet, listening to Arthur sort through his thoughts.

"Without Merlin," Arthur stated with resolve, "I would not be the Once and Future King. I can think of no one more worthy."

The wise druide smiled, "My thoughts exactly. For one person to wield that kind of power and not be corrupted…it is not his magic that makes him great – it is his character, his heart," he sighed, then the smile faded into a frown, "which is why his reaction earlier concerns me."

"Hmm," Arthur had no response for that. He didn't think Merlin could be corrupted, but after that display he understood Iseldir's unease.

"You should be warned," Iseldir recaptured the King's attention, "The rift at the Shrine is currently small. But, as you saw, even this trickle of magic is overwhelming Emrys," Iseldir's eyes implored Arthur to heed his words, "To allow the spirit through, we will need to open the rift completely. Magic will pour into our world. If Emrys can't forgive the soul and close the rift, the power will consume him. He will need your help, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together in utmost seriousness, "I know nothing of magic. What can I do?"

"You know Emrys's heart. You are two sides of the same coin. Just as you would not be the Once and Future King without Emrys, he, too, would not be Emrys without you. You must help him find forgiveness within himself."

Iseldir watched Arthur, who was staring intensely into the fire as if forgiveness for the spirit was a complex problem to solve. Perhaps it was.

"The soul that calls to Emrys," the druid ventured, "you said he wronged you both?" sadness flitted across Arthur's face as he nodded in confirmation.

"It must have been a great grievance indeed…" the druid peered at Arthur inquisitively, "would you be able to forgive this spirit?"

The orange glow of the embers matched the fading light of the sunset. Arthur put his bowl down, not taking his intense gaze from the fire as he dug his elbows into his knees and brought his chin against his laced fingers.

"It is as you said, Iseldir, the young struggle in the face of violence," the memory of Mordred running him through with a sword swam before his mind's eye: 'You gave me no choice'. Arthur dropped his head in his hands, "My actions put Mordred on a path of vengeance and death. It is I who should ask for forgiveness."

A somber calm passed over them as the light of day descended, giving way to darkness.

Merlin had been gone a while. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well," he said, straightening up and placing his palms on his knees, "I should go look for Merlin." He pushed himself up and headed in the direction his friend had gone. Then paused and turned back to the druid.

"Iseldir, your counsel has been most valuable. I meant what I said before, about restoring respect for your people. That would be easier with someone of your wisdom. Perhaps when this is over, we could discuss-"

Suddenly, a brilliant flash burst from beyond the treeline and a gust of wind shook the trees and tents, nearly knocking Arthur off his feet. The other druids emerged, looking toward where the light had come from, fear on their faces. Iseldir shot up from his seat as Mordred's call rang through their minds.

[Emrys, STOP!]

The look of helplessness that Arthur found on Iseldir's face dropped a pit in his stomach. "The Shrine…" the druid exhaled in worry.

Without thinking, Arthur started walking toward the clearing. He barely registered the druids following him as he struggled to control the anxety quickly rising in his chest.

"Merlin…" the name whispered in a panic. He started to run.

Emerging from the darkness of the forest, the starry sky made a peaceful backdrop to a haunting scene. A shadowy chasm, like a gash in the world, hovered in the middle of the four stone structures of the Shrine. It pulsed unevenly with power that lifted leaves from the ground and shook branches of surrounding trees. Phantom tendrils of pure blackness licked from around the edges. Standing in front of the chasm, one leg before the other in a braced stance, an arm rigidly stretched toward the phenomenon, the other clenched in a tight fist at his side, hair and clothes billowing ethereally, was Merlin.

"Emrys…Emrys…Emrys…" Mordred's voice echoed into the air, no longer limited to just a mental call.

Arthur stood frozen.

"He's opened the rift!" Iseldir came up behind Arthur, "But it's unstable! If another burst of magic comes through, it could destroy us all!" Iseldir grabbed Arthur's shoulders, yanking him out of his shock, "We'll have to perform the ritual now to stabilize it, but, Arthur, you must get Emrys out of there!"

Arthur steadied his nerves and forced his throat to swallow as he understood what needed to be done. Giving the druid a consenting nod, he gathered his resolve and made for Merlin as quick as he could.

As he approached, he saw sweat running along the side of Merlin's face, which was scrunched in a sign of prolonged effort. Merlin's chest heaved with shallow gasps and his outstretched hand was shaking.

"Merlin, what are you doing?!" Arthur shouted once he'd reached him.

"I can close the rift, Arthur! I feel its power coursing through me! I just need more magic and then I-"

"It's too dangerous! You can't control this much power!" Arthur grabbed Merlin's hanging wrist, "Stop this! Now!" he tried to pull Merlin away.

"No!" Merlin yanked his wrist from Arthur's grasp, keeping his focus on the rift, "if I can close it, then we won't need to face Mordred!" he shouted.

Arthur felt fear give way to anger. "Don't be stupid! Is forgiving Mordred so impossible you'd risk your life, our lives? If I can forgive him, why can't you?!"

At that, Merlin finally looked at Arthur, pained and confused, "How? How can you forgive him?" his voice was so broken, Arthur couldn't hold on to his anger.

"Because it's not his fault," Arthur said, running a hand through his hair, "it was my decision to execute Kara that drove Mordred away," Arthur held Merlin's tearful gaze as he stepped between his friend and the haunting darkness of the void, "He was young and reckless and hurt, a pain that I caused him. I don't like what he did, but I understand why he did it," Merlin hung his head and Arthur's voice quieted in pity, "I do not blame Mordred for what happened."

Just then, a voice echoed behind them. "Nor I you, Arthur…"

Both of them wrenched their attention toward the chasm. In the time they had spoken, they failed to notice the phenomenon no longer pulsed in a gash-like form, but had settled into the steady shape of a doorway. The tendrils had rescinded and the trees around them no longer shook. The druids were standing evenly apart in a circle surrounding the Shrine, their palms together and heads bowed, chanting. As the two men watched, the spirit of Mordred emerged from the emptiness, adorned in the chainmail he'd worn at Camlann, his profile a palish blue and slightly transparent.

"Hello, Arthur," he said to the King with a slight smile.

"Mordred…" Merlin breathed with exhaustion, dropping his extended arm.

Despite the oddness of the situation, a calm passed through Arthur as he turned back to Merlin and clasped his shoulder. "I'm ready to forgive Mordred and close this rift," he captured Merlin's gaze, "Are you?"

Merlin's eyes darted between his as if searching for a light in a storm. Arthur gave his friend's shoulder a gentle shake.

"Come on, let's forgive him together," he said with a reassuring smile. Merlin took a ragged breath. He felt conflicted, but he gave Arthur a faint nod, allowing his friend to guide him toward the spirit that had caused him so much grief.

"Mordred," Arthur addressed and the spirit heeded him, "we know you've come seeking forgiveness and we are ready to give it." He stepped forward and straightened his posture decidedly, "Mordred…I forgive you."

The spirit regarded him with a stoic expression. It unnerved Arthur.

"Merlin…" he nudged Merlin forward impatiently. Merlin stumbled into place beside him, not taking his eyes off of Mordred as the spirit turned its head to face him.

"I…I for-" Merlin shook his head and cleared his throat, "I forgive you."

Nothing happened. Mordred's spirit just stood there, emotionless. The two men grew apprehensive. When Mordred finally spoke, his voice vibrated as if off the walls of a deep cavern.

"I do not come seeking forgiveness for my transgressions," he said, punctuating each syllable.

"What?" asked Merlin, glancing to Arthur who looked equally confused. "Then why have you called me here?"

"Forgiveness," the spirit echoed.

Arthur sighed with exasperation, "But you just said-"

"It is not me you must forgive, Emrys…" Mordred's eyes narrowed at Merlin, "it is yourself."

A cold breeze passed through the clearing. Arthur looked between Merlin and Mordred as they stared at each other so intently he wondered if they were communicating telepathically again.

"What do you mean? What-" Arthur turned to Mordred, "Why would you say that?"

The spirit all but ignored him.

"For all that you've done, Emrys – for all you've failed to do – in the name of destiny…and now you've committed an act against the very nature of life itself. Your loyalty to your King makes you weak," Mordred remained steadfast as he spoke, but Merlin's fists were clenching at his sides. "Forgive yourself for putting Arthur above all else. Release the soul-bind."

"But…all this magic, all this power…" Merlin shot up defiantly, "I was supposed to save him. I did save him!"

Mordred's demeanor softened in pity. "You were never meant to defy the prophecy," he said.

"Then what was the point?!" Merlin shouted at an unflinching Mordred. The cold breeze picked up strength. "Why was I given the prophecy of Arthur's death if I wasn't meant to stop it from happening?"

"Yes, Emrys," Mordred spoke in an unwavering tone, "Why did so many die to ensure you heard that prophecy? Why not reveal the circumstances of Arthur's death to Arthur himself?"

"Because…" Merlin turned to look at Arthur. The King stood still, glancing between the spirit of his killer and his best friend with hints of confusion and fear. It was obvious to Merlin that Arthur was out of his depth and based on the look he was getting in return, Arthur knew it too. His voice went quiet, "he wouldn't have believed it. It wouldn't have changed anything."

Mordred's face fell with sadness. "Telling you didn't change anything either. He is still destined to perish by my blade."

Merlin rounded on him angrily, "Then why-?"

"To prepare you…" Mordred explained, "…for what was to come. To prepare you for Arthur's death so you would not abuse the power given to you."

Merlin's eyes widened. A tear rolled down his cheek. He shook his head disbelievingly and his voice cracked in despair, "No. No."

Storm clouds darkened the sky, blocking the stars from view. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Arthur saw light shimmer in Merlin's eyes.

"Merlin…" he warned in a low voice.

Mordred was unfazed by the heightened magic around them. "You cannot bear the weight of both the soul-bind and your growing power," Merlin shut his eyes tight and squeezed his hands to his ears, but Mordred grew louder, "If you don't control your magic it will consume you! It will drive you into madness and you will become nothing but a harbinger of destruction and doom!"

Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder boomed, jarring Arthur to action.

"Merlin!" he grabbed Merlin's wrists, shoving them down in a panic, "I'm not worth it! You have to reverse the spell!"

But Merlin shook his head vehemently, "I can't! I have lost everyone…given up so much…" he tilted his head to the sky as if shouting at Fate itself, "I can't lose Arthur too!"

Mordred stomped his foot to the ground, "You will bring chaos upon the world! Forgive yourself for being blinded by loyalty," he swiped his hand forcefully between them, "Let Arthur go!"

"I CAN'T!" Merlin screamed and magic exploded from his core in a wave that sent Arthur flying backward into one of the hard stone structures with a crack. He crumpled in pain to the hard cobblestone floor.

Rain began to fall, quickly becoming a deafening downpour. Hair matted to his face and his clothes soaked to his body. Ominous clouds billowed out of nowhere, blocking out the stars. White lightning illuminated the area in random flashes. He winced as he tried to stand, but only managed to raise his head.

Fear gripped Arthur's heart at what he saw. A swirling mass of black and silver energy crackled and snapped like an inferno. At the epicenter, standing before the hollow gateway, stood Merlin, his head low, arms hanging limply at his sides.

A hand jumped to his arm and Arthur whipped around to find Iseldir pulling him to his feet.

"He's losing himself!" Iseldir yelled above the roar of rain and wind, "You must help him!"

Arthur steadied himself against the druid, "How?!"

"He cannot bear this burden alone! Remember, you are two halves of a whole!" Iseldir urged him toward the magical maelstrom. Arthur gulped down his fear.

"Two halves of a whole…right," as if that made sense. He shielded his eyes against the stinging rain and pushed forward into the blowing wind. Every step was effortful. Heavy breaths came out in wisps into the cold air. At the ring of energy he stopped, assessing it for a way to pass safely. Looking through the haze, he saw Merlin, his shoulders slumped, and Mordred's spirit looking at him with sorrow.

His heart raced. Not Merlin. He couldn't bear to lose Merlin. Arthur had to reach him. Taking several quick breaths, he steeled himself, and jumped into the blazing magic.

"MERLIN!" he yelled as he landed on the other side. Fleetingly, he was amazed he was unharmed, but then resumed focus on his mission. Ignoring Mordred, he rushed to Merlin, gripped his shoulders and shaking him. "Merlin, we have to close the rift! If reversing the soul-bind will fix this, then that's what you have to do! Merlin!"

Rain gushed over them. Merlin didn't seem to care. His head raised unyieldingly as drops pelted him. A scowl hardened his face, distorting his features into an ugly replica of his previously boyish mien.

But it was his eyes that entranced Arthur. Where before only the iris had changed color, now the whole of his eyes radiated the golden light. If they hadn't been cast in such a menacing appearance, they could've been considered beautiful.

When Merlin spoke, the sound was unlike anything Arthur had ever heard. It was a guttural tone that reverberated from deep within, spat out with venom, lined with hatred and malice and the promise of hopelessness.

"If the world is the price I must pay to keep you here, then so be it."

Arthur drew back. "No…" it was barely a whisper. He was too late. Merlin was gone. The magic had consumed all that was once his friend. He couldn't believe it. He stared into the empty golden orbs.

No.

No.

No.

"No!" Arthur shook Merlin's pliant form, "listen to what you're saying! This isn't you! This isn't the Merlin who constantly risked his life to help me build a kingdom that is fair and just! I know you, Merlin! You would sacrifice anything to protect the people of Camelot…" his grip on Merlin's shoulders tightened, "…even your King."

Arthur searched the golden eyes for a sign his words were getting through. There was nothing. The form in front of him was just a magical shell of his friend. He clenched his eyes, fighting back tears, and wrapped his hand around the nape of Merlin's neck. In his grief, he ignored the magic and pressed his forehead to the one in front of him.

"Please, Merlin…" he whispered desperately, "I don't want you to change."

Golden light flickered. The form shuddered beneath Arthur's fingertips. Pressure pushed back against his forehead.

"Merlin?" Arthur's eyes shot open. The golden orbs were dimming. Suddenly, Merlin wheezed, gulping air like he'd been underwater. His body convulsed and arched back against Arthur's hand, then went limp. "Merlin!" Arthur caught him as he crumpled to his knees.

"Ar-Arthur!" Merlin clung to Arthur's tunic, heaving and trembling.

"Breathe, just breathe…" Arthur supported Merlin around the waist, trying to steady him. Relief overwhelmed him and he brought their foreheads together again, "I thought I'd lost you."

Merlin reached up to Arthur's shoulders, holding onto him as he focused on regulating his breathing.

"It's my fault…" the whisper came out hoarse and broken.

Arthur lifted his head. "What's your fault? Mordred? No, Merlin, I told you–"

"No," Merlin interrupted with a shake of his head.

Arthur's face scrunched in confusion, "then what…?"

Merlin's eyes met his. The golden hue had receded to just the irises, but the light remained brighter than usual.

"Everything," he breathed, "Everything is my fault. Morgana, Mordred, Freya, Lancelot, my father, Elyan…I tried to save them, I tried to stop them, but…I couldn't, I wasn't powerful enough…" as he said that, Arthur saw his face harden again and the golden light seep out into the white of his eyes.

"Merlin!" Arthur jolted his shoulders. Merlin took a sharp breath and the gold rescinded again. He looked up at Arthur pleadingly.

"But I could save you! I came into my true power just before Camlann and I was able to save you! Please…" tears fell down his cheeks, "please don't ask me to take that back. Don't make your death my fault too."

Arthur stared at Merlin, his heart breaking. He didn't want to die, but he could never agree to stay knowing it would mean Merlin would become…that. Merlin needed to forgive himself for not being able to control the world or he would lose himself seeking the power to try.

"It's not your fault, Merlin," Arthur said with a gentle voice, "We all made our own choices. What could you have done with more power? Killed a child? Destroyed a friend? Controlled our will?"

"I should've," he growled, his eyes glowing.

Arthur frowned, "I'm glad you didn't."

Merlin gasped and the light faded.

Arthur released a deep sigh, "Merlin, for all your magic, you were never meant to be a God. Morgana chose to do nothing but hate, Mordred chose vengeance, Lancelot and Elyan, they chose to sacrifice themselves for the good of the Kingdom and for Gwen, and I...I chose to defend my people by fighting at Camlann. But you…" Arthur smiled at Merlin who was hanging on his every word, "you were the bravest of us all. You chose to let us decide our own fates. You've always done what is right, Merlin. Don't change now. I want you to always be you."

Hands gripped Arthur's shoulders. Tears were brimming in Merlin's blue eyes and when Arthur smiled at him - the same smile he'd given while dying in Merlin's arms, a smile of goodbye - something in Merlin broke. An anguished cry erupted from him, carried away by the howling wind. Then another. And another.

Arthur gently rocked him whispering "it's not your fault, It's not your fault, it's not your fault…".

The rain lightened before stopping altogether. Tears flowed freely down Merlin's face and fell to the ground. The wind slowly died down and the storm clouds above them parted. Merlin drew in strangled breaths as sobs wracked his body. The ring of crackling energy, once sinister, now simmered like dying embers. Merlin cried until he no longer had the energy to continue.

Eventually, Arthur felt the tension leave Merlin's body and heard Merlin's breathing become deep and tranquil. Still, he held him.

The Shrine was quiet now with only distant chanting filling the silence. The otherworldly doorway scintillated steadily in place. Mordred's spirit stood expectantly, but patiently, in front of it. Arthur caught his eye and sighed. It was time.

He gently pushed Merlin back and pulled him up to stand. Merlin clung to Arthur's tunic on either side of his waist as they faced each other and rested their foreheads together.

"Promise me, when I'm gone, you'll always remember who you are," Arthur said. "Your heart is true, Merlin. Never change."

Another sniffle escaped Merlin as he nodded. With a deep breath, he raised his head and let go of Arthur's tunic. "I will – I will miss you, Arthur."

"And I, you, Merlin," he gave his friend a final, sad smile before turning to Mordred. "We're ready," he said resolutely.

The spirit regarded him stoically. Mordred didn't move. Then he looked to Merlin…and smiled.

"You did it, Emrys," he said softly.

Merlin blinked. "Did…what?"

"Look around you," Mordred's spirit gestured to their surroundings.

All was calm. The ground glistened with wetness from the rain. The sky was clear, shining with a blanket of twinkling stars. A light breeze played in the trees. Merlin closed his eyes and breathed deep.

Arthur surveyed the peaceful area. Then he noticed something.

"The druids," he turned to Merlin, "they stopped chanting. So how is the rift still stable?"

Mordred's smile grew wider. "Because Merlin is controlling it."

Merlin stared at him dumbfounded. "I am?"

"Yes," Mordred explained, "all the magic from the rift is still here, yet you are in complete control."

"But," Arthur asked, confused, "what about the 'weight of the soul-bind' and his 'growing power'?" He caught Merlin's gaze and saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"As Merlin was before, he could not manage both," the spirit regarded the two men before him, "Now that he has forgiven himself and let go of his guilt, the turmoil inside him no longer reigns over his heart, his magic. He has mastered the power needed to maintain the soul-bind."

Mordred's smile fell and his expression became serious, "Power without control leads to destruction. You will need both for what is to come."

Merlin, who had been staring incredulously at Arthur, jerked back to Mordred, "What do you mean? What is coming?"

"The greatest challenge you have ever faced…" Mordred's brow furrowed further, his eyes narrowed intently, "The Conflagration of Sgrios."

This was a long one, thanks for waiting! I'm questioning the self-imposed 'three parts' rule and just updating as the story comes out. Thoughts?