Sorry it's been so long, but I've had school. Plus, I finished my other Merlin story and started a SG1 fic as well. And I've been reading some very good fics lately, so blame those awesome writers. This was supposed to be longer but I decided to be nice to you all and give you this since the rest of it probably wouldn't get written for several days.

Arthur was dreading this, he really was. Part of him, of course, had been longing for this for a long time now, and that is what scared him. He'd been angry before, without a doubt. He was a Pendragon, after all.

He'd been outraged, furious, and had even hated. He'd felt the desire to hurt someone plenty of times before, but he'd always suppressed it because he knew that in most cases giving in to that desire would only bring him trouble.

But he had never felt a hate as strong as the hate he felt for this man. He wanted to tear him apart, and that is what scared him. He had wanted to kill people before, and in battle had certainly done that, but not like this. Not this much.

Which was why Arthur was uneasy about this, about the feeling of satisfied pleasure in his gut. He supposed that he should just be glad that it wasn't going to be by his own hand. Not that he didn't want it to be.

He finally came to a stop in front of a cell. Inside the cell a man was leaning his weight fully against a wall, as if he couldn't support himself, and was bloody and bruised. Arthur couldn't see a single patch of his skin that wasn't mutilated in some way. He felt guilty at the wave of satisfied happiness that rolled over him. He pushed it back down.

It was this man, this man who made him feel guilty, and afraid, and nervous, and angry, and vengeful all at once. And that was one thing Arthur knew he hated, the fact that he could still manage to mess with him.

Most sorcerers would be executed a day or two after being arrested. Sometimes they'd even be killed the day of if Uther had a particular reason for wanting them dead right away.

Arcturus, however, had lived this long because Arthur's father wanted the information he possessed. But it had been a week and even Uther's most skilled torturers had been unable to extract the names and whereabouts of those who wished to buy Camelot's secrets in the hope of destroying the city. Apparently Arthur's father had finally had enough and had decided to just kill the man, since he was obviously crazy and wasn't going to give up anything.

Arthur would like nothing better than to simply forget all about this man, but he couldn't. He had known ever since he had returned to Camelot that he would have to see him one more time. He needed this closure; he needed to look at the man who had done so much to hurt both him and Merlin. He knew he would regret it for a long time if he didn't do this. But he still feared that maybe the side of himself that he really didn't like would emerge.

The sorcerer was breathing heavily enough that Arthur—a man with plenty of experience in this area—could easily recognize the harsh sound as being caused by at least one broken rib. Arthur didn't know how anyone breathing that hard could possibly sleep, but the man looked like he was.

He was just contemplating whether or not to wake the sorcerer up—it's not that he cared about the man's sleep; he just didn't want to talk to someone who wasn't fully awake—when he heard a very familiar, if quite hoarse, voice.

"Well, if it isn't Artie." Despite the fact that he could hardly talk now, Arcturus still had the same cold and chilling tone in his voice. That same creepy edge that told you that he was far from sane. Arthur just barely managed to keep himself from shuddering at the voice that had haunted his dreams.

Arcturus cracked his eyes open with what looked like some difficulty, and then turned his gaze on the prince. "Come to say goodbye? To gloat? To tell me that you hate me? To kill me with your bare hands? To get in the last word? If that is your aim, Highness, then I won't deny you that. If you need to look down at my broken body and tell me that I've lost then, by all means, go right ahead. Keep your pride." He smiled and Arthur once more felt himself wishing that he had never come down here.

"The truth is, prince, we've both won. You captured me and soon I'll be dead. And me, well, I captured you and tortured your servant. We both won and we both lost. Isn't that just the way of the world? So tell yourself that you've won the battle, but don't forget what the cost of that battle was. If you need to gloat and feel powerful then I won't stop you." He gave Arthur an expectant look.

The prince swallowed. "I haven't come here to gloat," he said as he gestured to a guard. The man unlocked the cell and Arthur stepped inside, the guard locking it behind him once more. He looked down at the man he feared and hated with all his might and had to restrain himself from strangling him as an image of Merlin screaming in pain rushed across his mind. That was not what he was here for, though, he didn't think his father would mind if he decided to end the sorcerer's life sooner.

He continued. "Tomorrow you die. In time this nightmare will be forgotten as no more than a distant memory. Merlin is healing; in fact, he is getting quite a bit better. You didn't kill him or me. I don't need this answer, but I want it. You have nothing left to lose. So tell me: why him? Why Merlin?" Arthur hadn't come to gloat, he'd come to ask the question. He wanted to figure out why all this had happened to Merlin, when it should have all along happened to him. What decision had made the critical difference?

Arcturus smiled to himself as if he was being asked to recall a fond memory. Knowing him, he probably was. "Because Arthur, I am a good judge of character. And I knew that you'd be easy to break. Oh, perhaps not your loyalty to Camelot, but in other ways you'd be incredibly easy to break, and alone that's no fun for me. The thing is: you had no idea what you believed. I doubt you still have any idea. Your beliefs change on a weekly basis. Any promise or mistake you made would be worthless at the end of that week. You know nothing about yourself, except your loyalty to your kingdom.

"Merlin, on the other hand, knows who he is and what he thinks. I could see it, in his eyes; he knew his limits, how far he was willing to go. He knew what he could handle and what he couldn't. And he was confident that he could endure whatever I gave him as long as you were fine.

"I was both curious about how strong his beliefs were—that is, how long he would last—as well as whether or not I could get through to you. You have maybe one or two fundamental beliefs that you base yourself on. For a future king that's not nearly enough. I wanted to give you something that you would never lose sight of. I wanted to get past all those walls of pride and arrogance and get to the man beneath all of that. And I knew that if you really cared for your servant then torturing him was the way to break you. And you did, so beautifully." He looked up at Arthur as if he had just given him a great lesson.

"And why would you want to teach me all that?" Arthur asked, still reeling from all the insanity of everything the man said. Part of what made it so insane was the fact that some of it made sense. Some of it was true.

Arcturus shrugged. "I like to enlighten people before they die. I hope I enlightened you. I tortured Merlin because there was nothing that I could teach him. He already understood himself far too well for that to be of any use. Sure, I was curious to see how long he would last, but in the end, I tortured him just for your benefit. I suppose you could say that it's all your fault that I did all that to him. I told you, all you had to do was tell me what I wanted to know."

Arthur scowled. His brain hurt. This man was contradicting himself. "I did try to tell you. But you still wouldn't leave him alone!" he practically yelled.

"Oh, yes," the man sighed as if remembering something, "I guess I broke my word. But, really, like taking only the smallest of sips of water when you're so thirsty, beginning torture and then stopping it almost right away is just too painful. I couldn't stop."

Arthur wanted to hit him, but he restrained himself. He didn't know what he would believe of himself if he let his anger get control of him concerning a man he hated so much. This man was speaking in circles, and was more insane than he remembered, though, it would be hard for any human memory to recall the depth of this man's insanity.

A sudden thought struck him. "How many have you tortured?" he asked.

Arcturus smiled with glee. "Not as many as I would like, but somewhere near a dozen. But I've got nothing on your father. You know, he and I are alike in so many different ways, even though he would deny it. That's why it's so hard for you, you are obviously not a monster like me, yet you are trying so hard to be like your father, who is every bit the monster that I am. Well, perhaps not quite as bad as me in some ways, but he has you to thank for that. My insanity comes from losing everyone I care about, whether to madness, or death at their own hand, or they left, or Uther ordered them dead, or they simply wasted away from the pain of it all. I've got no one left to keep me sane. But Uther has you. That is one of the few differences between him and me."

"I didn't come here to discuss my father," Arthur said.

"Then why are you here, prince?" Arcturus retorted.

"Because…" Arthur couldn't finish. He understood himself why he was here, but he couldn't seem to put it into words.

After a long moment the sorcerer gave him a knowing look. "Ahhhh, you wanted to prove to yourself that you could both face your fears, and that you could stop yourself from killing that what you most hate. You needed to be the better man." He gave him another look that almost seemed kind and father-ish. It was like a parent reassuring an insecure child. "Let me let you in on a little secret, Arthur," he said quietly, "you broke a lot quicker than I expected you to. You are a far better man than most people, I'm sure Merlin can tell you that."

Arthur was stunned. He couldn't believe that the man had just complemented him. That he had just tried to take away what was perhaps his greatest fear: that he, Arthur Pendragon, was just as bad as him. That he was like his father and Arcturus in all the wrong ways. Arthur couldn't think; this man was still messing with his mind.

The sorcerer sighed. "But I am sorry about your servant, though, that he's getting better, I mean. So tragic. I suppose," he said thoughtfully as he slowly began to painfully inch his way to the center of the room and sit on his knees, "for some people pain only makes them stronger. I hope for Abion's sake that Merlin is one of those people. He'd have to be." He sighed again, this time it was more drawn out. He looked up at Arthur. "It's time."

"What?" Arthur asked. He had been backing away from the man as he began moving. He didn't like his body language.

"You're right, Artie. Tomorrow I'm going to die. I've got nothing left. I knew this day was coming for a while but I couldn't do it before. It has to be just right; otherwise I'd simply be abusing it. You and Merlin have won this, you've beat me. And yet, you've lost so much more than I have. I pity you, I wish I had killed you both; it would have been much more merciful. But apparently destiny has other plans. Fate is much crueler than me, Arthur, at least I bring relief." He smiled sadly. He was in the middle of the room kneeling and Arthur had the distinct feeling that he shouldn't be here anymore. He took another step back.

"I truly wish you and Merlin luck, Arthur. Please tell him that I'm sorry I couldn't end it." The tone in his voice was one of someone saying goodbye. "It's time," he said again. Then, in a deep voice the man said, "Oynnestre mé mín éadgiefu."

Arthur jumped back at the foreign words. But though they were magic, Arthur saw no gold flash in the man's eyes. Suddenly his knife was pulled from his belt and brought to hover in the space between Arthur and Arcturus. The prince quickly drew his sword, but didn't attack because he didn't know when that knife would be sent at him.

Arcturus smiled his insane smile, yet it was one of contentment as well. He arm was outstretched towards the knife. "I told you, Arthur, death is a blessing when someone has suffered so greatly that they are scarred forever. Uther tortured me and destroyed my family. It is time for my gift." Then the man flicked one of his fingers and Arthur's knife went straight towards him.

The blade imbedded itself deep within Arcturus' chest. With a strange gasping sound the man fell to the ground. Stunned, Arthur rushed over and knelt beside him. His eyes were barely open and Arthur knew he was seconds away from death. But he still managed to gurgle out,

"Death is a gift after suffering so badly. To live would be a curse. I pity Merlin that he is not as fortunate as me." Then with a final gasp Arcturus' eyes rolled up into his head and he died.

Arthur knelt numbly next to the body that still had blood pooling beneath it. After a while he called, "Guard."

The man quickly appeared and unlocked the door, gasping in surprise when he saw the body. "What happened?" the man asked in shock.

Arthur looked up at him. "He killed himself." He got up and walked out of the dungeons. He was going to go and wash this blood off of him, and with it, hopefully, the filth and madness and pain that that man had spread to everyone he touched.

So, the badie is dead. I know! He killed himself, what is that all about? Well, my thought is that he wanted to kill himself rather than be killed by Uther who he hated. Plus, he has these weird ideas about the rules of when you can die. If anyone wants to know the details of those rules then review or PM me.

Yeah, weird ending for the character, but I thought that that would be the best way for him to go out. Anything less would out of character for Arthur or Merlin, or simply be anti-climatic for Arcturus. If anyone is wondering where the name for this chapter came from it's Buffy. Please review!