A/N: I know, I'm sorry it has been so long since I updated, I really am. For those of you who care, life has been...well you know. And for those of you who don't, well, here is the next chapter. :)

Ch 47

Off With his Head

Guinivere glance back once more. It broke her heart to leave him behind. Merlin was like a brother to her and she didn't want loose another one. Her heart sized in her chest when she spotted Morgana who had her eyes set on Merlin. There was a murderous aura about her as she stalked towards him. A sort of uncontrolled rage that bordered on blood lust that suggested she had finally and truly gone mad.

Guinevere wanted to shout out to him, to warn him or distract Morgana she didn't know, but just as she opened her mouth to issue her warning she tripped over her own feet and fell onto her backside. Her sword remained, thankfully, in hand but her wrist gave an uncomfortable throb. She watched as Morgana stalked right up to Merlin and shoved a dagger into his gut. Their bodied so close they nearly touched, but enough apart that Guinevere could still see that Morganas dagger didn't fully go in. Guinevere watched with mounting horror and disbelief as Morgana shoved the blade deeper.

Morgana leaned into Merlin as if to kiss him but her lips moved like she was speaking to him instead. Before Guinevere could comprehend what she had seen Morgana stepped back and ripped the blade free. Merlin jerked but other wise there was no other indication on Morganas assault until Merlin collapsed to his knees. Morgana, seemingly satisfied with the result turned and disappeared back into the battle.

"No," Gwen whimpered, her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream "Merlin!" She cried from behind her fingers. She didn't dare draw Morganas attention, not now. Strong hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her to her feet. She started to struggle.

"It's me, your Majesty " Gwain barked when she elbowed him in the ribs. "Gwen! Stop, its Gwain." he hissed in her ear.

She stilled when Gwains voice and words register. She relaxed. He waited a minute before he released her, but kept a firm grip of her harm should she dare run to Merlins aid. "We need to go."

"No," Guinevere tried to pull away from him but his grip tightened. "Gwain."

"Yes," Gwain persisted. "We shouldn't be anywhere near the Lady Morgana."

"I don't care. Merlin- he needs our help." She glanced back at him. Morgana was gone but Merlin... Gwen tried to pull away from Gwain again but he gripped her other arm and forced her to meet his gaze. His nerves were raw and jumpy. His instincts on high alert. He was in a battle and to be as distracted as he was could get him and the queen killed.

"He is not himself." Gwain huffed. "It is not safe. He is not safe."

"But-" Guinevere began.

"The best way you can help him is by helping keep the king alive while he is unable to."

she gazed at him a tense moment. Reluctantly, but resigned, she nodded.

Gwain gave her one long last assessing look. She was blood splattered, her hair was a mess and her face was flushed. Her eyes wide and the soft chocolate brown of her irises were filled with such fire it scared him a little bit. She looked like a wild Valkyrie Queen.

"Gwain!" Gili called.

Gwain let her go of her with a warning look before he face Gili. "Gili!" Gwain grunted his greeting. He hadn't known Gili long but Gawain liked him. He reminded Gwain of the little brother he never got, or asked for.

"Have you heard from Leon? I saw him a little while ago but he was chasing after a few men headed towards the castle. I followed but he told me to stay in the fight and find Arthur and Leon would find us, but..." Gilli shook his head.

Gwain huffed. He gave his surroundings a quick look before returning his attention back to Gilli. "No, but you lose track of people in battle." Gwain's eyes drifted over Gili's shoulder and found a familiar, amusing and slightly terrifying scene. "Besides, that's not what we need to concern ourselves with. I think that our King is about to go all 'For the love of Camelot' and lose his head." Gili and Guinivere followed his gaze. It just so happened that Gwain was right. The king was about to loose his head. Literally.

~o0o~

Merlin groaned. He was rubbish at healing spells. Not because he lacked the talent or power, but because he spent most of his time learning other spells to keep his royal Pratness alive. Fortunately, while in Morganas 'care' he had the chance to examine some of the magic books in the Keep. He now had the knowledge to help himself, if only marginally.

Merlin knelt on the cold ground, his knees sank into the slush of mud, blood, and snow. Merlin pressed a hand to his abdomen and chanted in the old tongue. His magic staunched the flow of blood enough not to bleed out before he could properly take care of it, or something else killed him, witch he much more preferred.

Please kill me, a tiny voice in him screamed. Merlin grimaced. He couldn't let himself think like that. His life was worth the fight, but Morgana's death was worth so much more. This bond was a prison he was willing to do anything to be free from, even at his own expense. He would gladly give his life in order for Morgana to die. The Bond. It wasn't a bond at all. Bonds are a willing connection between people using magic. What he and Morgana have was a curse. A painful and cruel one that went beyond The Bond and into who they were on a supernatural level. The Witch and Emrys; Love and Hate, Light and Dark, Destiny and Doom.

Speaking of doom... Merlin looked around for Morgana but she was nowhere to be found. She really was expecting him to fall back in line and follow her. She really was mad. However, Merlin didn't feel all that much rational himself so who the hell was he to judge. He had just as much darkness in him as Morgana did, he was just more conflicted about it.

In all honesty, Merlin didn't know what to do and for a single moment there was nothing but silence and darkness and that damned thread that bound him to the woman he both loved and loathed.

Merlin looked around again and spotted Gwen. A welcomed light amidst all the death and mayhem. His eyes followed her as she raced off with Gwain and Gilli towards something, or someone, he couldn't see. Merlin squinted to try to get a glimpse of what had her attention. He got a flash through the battling Mercenaries and knights. There! A pale blond head and a sword he would recognize anywhere caught his eye. With the help if his sword Merlin stood up, the tip sunk into the ground from his weight. Merlin swayed on his feet but managed to wipe his blade and put it back in its holster with its twin and started after Gwen- to Arthur.

Merlin wove his way around opposite of Gwen, Gwain and Gili hoping to meet on the other side of the king. He arrived just in time to see Arthur fall to his knees. Merlin froze; for a startlingly long moment Merlin couldn't move, couldn't breath. He just stood there watching with a sort of morbid fascination at the man and his ax that was about to take the head off his destiny.

The mercenary's ax raised for the death blow but Arthur stabled his dagger into the man's thigh. The man howled, but his grip never wavered. Arthur must have noticed this because his fist suddenly shot out and hit the man right in the cock. The mans knees threatened to buckle but again the ax still came down.

Merlin felt an almost foreign feeling of humor flare up. To see the king of Camelot resort to such a low move was laughable, and it did little to nothing to save the kings life.

"Arthur!" Gwen screamed from somewhere on the other side of him.

Merlin didn't think, he just acted. His magic flowed freer than it had in months. That must be the key- Instinct. Forgo the thought process, no hesitation. Just act without thinking. Merlin had been saving Arthur for so long and so many times over the years it was just second nature to him.

Merlins' magic wrapped around the ax and held it still. His mind reached out and slithered around Arthur to dance along his outer consciousness.

That was a cheep shot, Merlin laughed cheekily.

Merlin? Merlin felt more than heard Arthurs wonder. He disengaged there minds in fear of Morgana. Even that light contact could jeopardize Arthur.

o0o

Arthur fought one man after another but it made little difference. There was always more to take the place of the fallen. It seemed like the army refused to dwindle; as if for every dead man there were three more to take his place.

Where did Morgana get so many willing to fight her cause? The only luck on his side it seemed was that the sorcerers avoided him. They left Arthur alone as if given orders not to engage him, although some still thought to come at him with spells that he had to doge and run from. Arthur could only think that Morgana had given similar, if not the exact, orders he had given to his men. Still in the heat of battle he could barely afford to dwell on anything but the next attack.

He blocked and dodged to the best of his abilities but most the time, with the the fatigue and blood loss, he was not fast enough. His armor weighed him down and his movement lagged as Excalibur grew heavy in his hand. His muscles ached and his head throbbed, pounding as if a woodpecker took up residency, and nearly buried the sound of war around him. He could still hear the hushed bellows and the harsh clang of swords against shields and it grated against his nerves. His lungs burned with the stench of death and blood and cold wet earth, it poisoned his lungs with his every breath and sent stomach churn uncomfortably. The stench of war was cloying and nauseating and he could taste it on the back of his tongue. This was something he would never be able to forget.

After hours upon hours of fighting, anguish and hopelessness filled Arthur as the battle showed no signs of slowing. The ground was littered with bodies, their entrails spilled out and limb scattered in a grim display of gore. Some men were yet to be claimed by death and were stuck in their throes. Arthur felt as if he could feel what they feel. Their agony and fear. Those who have yet to pass cried and screamed for help or release from the pain.

Arthur stumbled over a dead knight. He caught himself before he fell but as he did his gaze landed onto what had tripped him. He let his eyes adjust, and grimaced. Arthur recognized him. He was a Camelot knight of only Eighteen. Arthur had been training the young man for the past two years. Edwin was his name. He had a mother and little sister that relied on him and loved him and now he was gone.

Arthur's heart ached. It was an actual physical pain that pierced his chest and wouldn't let up. His soul was burning with the loss. He looked around him. He forgot for a moment that this was a dance of great tragedy and death. He was almost surprised that the battle never paused to acknowledge the young men who died and just kept raging on.

Arthur let his guard down fr only a moment, but that was all it took. He didn't see the man racing at him with the ax until he nearly took his head off. At the last moment Arthur brought up his sword and blocked the blow. His arm wavered and shook. His exhaustion gave him away. Seeing his weakness, the mercenary brought his knee up into Arthurs gut effectively stealing Arthurs breath. His grip on Excalibur loosened before it tumbled from his grasp, his brain momentarily forgetting how to function.

The mans yell brought Arthur from his stupor. He glanced up and saw the ax about to descend. Arthur drew his dagger. He didn't hesitate. He stuck the blade into the mans thigh and jammed it all the way to the hilt. The man yelled in pain and swung his ax down at Arthur with even more fervor.

Arthurs eyes widened. He was out of weapons. Damn it, damn it, what-

Arthur mentally cringed at what he was about to do. His fist shot out and punched the man in the cock. The man grunted at the impact but it didn't stop his anger or the ax. It continued on its path down... Arthur shut his eyes. He distantly thought he heard his name being called. His body tensed for the blow.

...but it never came. Arthur opened his eyes to see the ax had halted in mid air just inches from his neck. He didn't move, didn't dare breath. He was too stunned to make sense of what just happened.

That was a cheep shot, Merlins voice drifted through his mind.

Merlin, Arthur wondered. Arthur looked over the ax and behind the Mercenary. He saw a familiar face in the chaos. His raven hair and pale skin stood out, but instead of blue eyes they blazed an unholy gold. Merlin slouched and held his hand over his lower abdomen near his hip as if wounded.

Suddenly, a sword went through the mercenaries chest gaining back Arthur attention. He recognized the gold on the blade that protruded from the mans chest. It was Excalibur. The sword disappeared and the man fell to the ground. Standing in his place was Guinevere.

Holy fuck, what was she doing here! Arthurs gut dropped to his toes. "Guinevere?" Arthur choked. He looked back to where he saw Merlin but he was not there. He tuned back to his wife. "What the hell are you doing here?" Arthur demanded.

Guinevere glowered at him. "What to you think I'm doing?" She growled. She wore Morganas old armor, the very same one she wore into the small battle in Ealdor, only now it was covered in mud and gore. "I'm saving my husband. Now, don't loose your head." Guinevere shoved Excalibur into his hand. She turned and sprinted off back into the fray where Gwain and Gill fought several men and sorcerers. Stunned again he stood there unsure if he should follow her or find Merlin.

Arthur searched his surrounding and caught a flash of raven hair disappearing into the surrounding trees, headed for the castle. Why would he be going there, the fight was here? Mind made up, Arthur chased after the warlock, and Morgana, most likely. Where ever Merlin was, she was bound to turn up. Like a parasite, she cant live without a host.