A/N: Here it is...another chapter. Sorry for the delay, but I'm just seriously lazy. Also my laptop got wiped and I lost everything :( Biggest annoyacne though was the spell checker. Who invented predictive text? No idea how many times I had to recorrect 'Emrys' and 'Merlin' from 'Embryos' and 'Melvin'.

Anyways, just to be weird I'm dedicating this chapter to my wee cat Japser, who I like to call Merlin coz he looks like Colin Morgan (though obv with the black fur and whiskers). He sliced his paw open on a barbed wire (Honestly, why do farmers need barbed wire in their fences, it's not as though sheep can jump) He's been curled up on my lap everytime I've written a chapter. My good luck charm!

Yeah, I'm a crazy cat lady, dedicating a chapter to a cat but...he's a magic cat...

Chapter 26

Arthur stumped his way through the battlefield, holding a vice-like grip on Byrne's arm. Byrne had struggled at first, but had soon given up when faced with Arthur's strength.

Arthur could barely contain his revulsion for even touching this man, and it seemed Byrne was thinking the same. Arthur tightened his grip even further and kept on moving towards the city.

As he walked, he saw the destruction before him. Dead bodies were strewn everywhere, oozing blood and other bodily fluids onto the earth, staining the ground. Various limbs and body parts littered the field. Wide, staring, lifeless eyes watched as he passed. Many seemed to belong to young boys, conscripted unwillingly or deluded into following the army, who would know? Their faces were full of fear behind the grime of the battle.

Here and there an occasional familiar face looked out at him. A Knight, or a common foot soldier whom Arthur had glanced at in the past when inspecting Camelot's forces. Familiar faces, but less familiar names. How many unnamed bodies lay here? How many grieving families would there be this evening? How many would never know what became of their relative?

All this was down to the man he was now dragging towards Camelot.

Byrne stared at the battlefield without seeing it, no remorse or regret on his face whatsoever. Arthur was disgusted. These were his people, innocent citizens of Camelot, many of whom were too young to remember the Purge. Ordinary people defending their homes. Byrne could harp on about his 'enemies' all he liked, but to Camelot, the sorcerers were the enemies. This would only reinforce their beliefs of the evilness of sorcerers, a prejudice Arthur would have to fight to overcome in the minds of his people. These sorcerers had not come to fight for justice, this was cold-blooded revenge.

Arthur came at last to the gates of Camelot, and entered through the ruined archway. The Druids and soldiers who were there cheered and applauded at the sight of the prince, but looked in surprise at his prisoner.

Arthur made his way through the chattering crowd, not stopping. Many spat at Byrne's feet, some threw rubble at him. Arthur did not discourage them. It was taking all of his self-will at the moment not to turn around and kill Byrne himself.

What were Merlin and Fyrmest thinking of? Why were they willing to let him live? He had listened to their arguments, not entirely convinced. Merlin had mentioned ending the viscous circle of killing, to prevent more hate and killing. But what better way to end the hatred between them than by killing the man who had started all of this? Wouldn't Byrne's death be an appropriate way to send the message that hatred and intolerance were a thing of the past?

Arthur gave up this train of thought. It was no use now. He would just have to hope the Druids would see sense and vote for Byrne's immediate execution. But now there were other things to consider which were of a greater urgency.

He wondered for a moment where he was to put the sorcerer. Normally he would take him to the dungeons, but doing that would be going awfully close to the palace where his father was probably lurking in a murderous temper. On second thoughts...maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to take Byrne there...

No, he told himself. As much as he hated the idea, Byrne had to stay alive at the moment.

He saw Sir Leon coming towards him his face haggard.

"Sire?" He looked in astonishment at the man Arthur was dragging.

"This man is the one responsible for what happened here today," Arthur said gruffly, ignoring Leon's look of surprise and outrage. "Don't ask me why he's still living, it certainly wasn't my idea, but he has to remain alive for the present until the Druids decide what to do with him."

Leon nodded, his eyes still fixed on Byrne with an uncharacteristic hatred.

Arthur continued.

"Normally I would throw him into the dungeons but that would bring me into close contact with my father who I would prefer to avoid at the present moment, any ideas where we could keep him?"

"I'm not an animal!" Byrne spat at him.

Arthur pulled Byrne up roughly until he was looking straight at him.

"You are to me." He hissed at him.

Byrne looked back at Arthur with hatred and contempt.

Sir Leon spoke up.

"We could keep him in the guard house sire, it's fortified and relatively secure. With a couple of guards he could remain there temporarily."

Arthur considered the guard house. Located just within the gates of the city, it was a stone structure with thick walls. Inside it was dark, with only a few slit windows, and it was cold and damp and often played host to rats and other equally delightful creatures.

"Excellent idea Sir Leon."

He pulled Byrne with him so roughly he almost fell over and dragged him to the guard house. Inside was a small cellar, empty now but still fairly large. Into this, he threw the disgruntled sorcerer and locked the door. If anyone deserved the cold and the dark and damp it was him.

He came outside and found a Druid and a soldier standing close by.

"Come here both of you," he called to them.

They looked surprised at being addressed by the prince but came without delay.

"I want the two of you to guard him. He is not to leave the cellar under any circumstances. I'm relying on you."

The two looked at each other, slightly wary.

"You want us to work together Sire?" The soldier asked uncertainly.

"Yes, I do." Arthur was firm in his answer.

The soldier and Druid still looked uncertain, but obeyed his orders. And stood side by side in front of the door. Somehow the two of them standing there gave Arthur some hope, the armoured soldier and robed Druid.

He left them then and rejoined Sir Leon and his other Knights. He had a whole load of work in front of him before he could even begin to resume worrying about Byrne. His city, his inheritance, lay around him in ruins, it's people frightened and lost. He needed to be a leader now. He had led his people into battle that morning. Now it was time to lead them into recovery.

The next few hours, Arthur and his Knights worked tirelessly trying to do all they could to try and regain some control of the city. Work to clear away debris from the streets was begun, soldiers who were not injured themselves were assigned to conveying the injured to Gaius and the make-shift infirmary, while other Druids began to set up one closer to the battlefield to prevent the long trek to the palace, which while useful and well protected during a siege, proved impractical for bearing injured men. Temporary housing, little more than tents, were set up outside the city walls for those whose homes had been wrecked and work was being done to supply for their needs.

Yet more soldiers were charged with the unpleasant task of clearing the battlefield. All of the dead were respectfully carried away and large funeral pyres were set up. Arthur would have preferred to have given the bodies back to their families who could make funeral arrangements themselves, but it was impossible. The sheer amount of bodies prevented it. Many could not be identified. And such a thing would have taken time and energy which they simply did not have. The bodies had to be dealt with swiftly. It would have taken a great deal of effort to dig large enough graves, so they were burnt instead. The smell that drifted over Camelot was horrid to say the least, but hundreds of rotting corpses left on the battlefield would have been much worse, so Arthur bore it best he could.

For the first time, Arthur truly grasped what it would be like to be King. Everyone looked to him now and sought his advice, following it rigidly. Arthur would have thought the pressure would have been too much to bear, but it was not so. He did what was required and as confidently and he could. He did not have time to worry and question his decisions, he just had to make them, in the interests of his people. His mind occasionally wandered to his father, most likely still in the palace. Why was he not here? Was he really so angry as to abandon his people?

Also, despite his earlier reassurances, the issue of Byrne still fell heavily on his mind. His anger flared up every time he caught sight of the guard house, but he kept it in check. Now was not the time.

After a lengthy discussion with a Knight over the allocation of food supplies, he saw a large group of Druids entering through the gates or rather staggering through them. Each of them had grey faces and were unsteady on their feet, being supported by other Druids, and by some soldiers of Camelot.

They were like new-born lambs, weak and helpless. Their eyes had a lost look about them, they appeared to be unaware of the world around them. Arthur was alarmed to see them like this; what had happened?

Then he caught a glimpse of the two Druids at the front of the procession. Arthur felt a jolt as he finally recognised Brim and Lyft. They were utterly changed. Their faces were lined and haggard and their eyes wandered aimlessly, and they jumped at small noises. They each looked as though they had both aged thirty years. Like lost souls they watched the world in front without seeing it.

Arthur remembered what Merlin had said about their magic being removed and saw now what that had really meant. They were like lost children, completely powerless. Some even had a crazed look about them, as though about to tear at their skin in pure frustration. Arthur could not have imagined how the removal of magic would affect them. He had always assumed magic was just some sort of power that people actively sought to make themselves stronger, he had never thought of it being like a life-force. Magic for them wasn't something to be used to hurt, it was all that kept them going.

Arthur saw Merlin rush forward from a group of Druids and run towards Brim and Lyft who seemed to almost collapse on him. Arthur too ran forward and helped to support them.

Merlin's face was pained as he regarded them, his eyes full of empathy.

Fyrmest and Morgana also came forward, along with a number of unaffected Druids, and together they guided the weakened Druids to the side of the square, where they all seemed to collapse on the ground or on stray pieces of rubble. They seemed to just give up.

Arthur was supporting Lyft, and Merlin, Brim. They guided them and sat them down on a large piece of rubble from a building.

"No...my magic...it's gone...it's not there...why can't I feel it? Why is it gone? My magic..."

Lyft was murmuring to himself, incoherently at times, a babble of phrases, the same ones over and over. He seemed quite mad.

Merlin looked at Arthur, his face grim. Arthur didn't like his look.

"You can help them can't you?" Arthur asked almost desperately. He hadn't even known these people a few days ago, but he still had an overwhelming wish to help them.

Merlin sighed heavily.

"I can give them back their magic, but it's their minds I'm worrying about. The shock to their minds was overwhelming."

Arthur could tell. Most of the Druids seemed to be either talking to themselves or rocking back and forth.

"But it happened to you Merlin! And you're all right now aren't you?"

"Yes, but my magic was only gone momentarily. They've had theirs taken for longer than I did. If I had been them, I wouldn't be much different."

Arthur cast about him, looking into the faces of the Druids.

"Is there no hope then for them?"

Merlin glanced at him.

"I can try Arthur, but I don't know if it will work. I don't know if I will be able to integrate the magic back into their systems. It's never been done before."

Arthur nodded, trying to accept the harsh reality. These people may never be the same again.

He exchanged a dark look with Merlin.

"If anyone can restore them, it is Emrys."

Arthur turned and saw Fyrmest coming towards him. He looked careworn and his eyes were full of worry. Arthur had not seen him so upset.

He approached them.

"Just do what you can Merlin."

Merlin nodded and turned to face Brim, who was regarding Merlin with a lazy eye, staring straight through him.

Arthur gave a silent prayer. He didn't know why he cared so much about these people he had only just met, but he did know these people had greater honour and worth than many a nobleman at court.

Merlin looked straight into Brim's eyes, and placed his hand on either side of his temples. His face screwed up in intense concentration. Then Merlin's eyes suddenly glowed golden, and instead of it only being a momentary flash of colour as Arthur had learned was usual for spells, his eyes remained golden and fixed on Brim. Brim suddenly jolted and almost immediately perked up. He almost seemed to glow incandescently and his eyes too begun to change. They sat staring there at each other, neither moving for what seemed like an eternity.

Eventually Merlin gasped, and fell back, breaking the spell. Brim sagged forward and would have collapsed if Arthur had not caught him.

Merlin lay on the ground breathing heavily but pulled himself up and came towards Brim, his face concerned.

Brim raised his head and looked at Arthur, and seemed to really see him. His face was still grey looking but his eyes were now focused.

"Wh-what happened?" He asked, his voice weak and trembling. Suddenly Arthur realised this was the first time he had heard Brim speak out loud. It seemed he was so weak he couldn't even sustain a mental voice.

Fyrmest smiled in relief.

"That is a story for another time my friend. You must rest now and regain your strength."

Brim frowned in confusion.

"Regain my..." He sat up, his eyes suddenly fierce. "Byrne! He overpowered us Fyrmest! He took our magic! His power-"

"Is now gone my friend." Fyrmest reassured him. "Byrne has been defeated, his magic taken from him. Emrys gave it back to you."

Brim's eyes widened in astonishment. He looked sideways at Merlin.

"How-"

"There's no time Brim." Fyrmest said. " Emrys must restore the magic he absorbed to the others, and you must rest, for as soon as you, Lyft and the others have regain enough strength, we must vote to decide Byrne's fate."

"He's still alive?"

"Unfortunately," grumbled Arthur.

Fyrmest ignored him. He called to some of the unaffected Druids and asked them to escort Brim to the Infirmary to rest.

Once they had gone he looked to Merlin.

"That took a great toll on you did it not?"

Merlin avoided his eyes.

"I can manage."

"Are you sure?"

"I have to do this Fyrmest. It's just tiring, that's all. It's hard to distinguish the magic belonging to a particular person."

Arthur was confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Each person's magic is different Arthur, it's sort of like it has that person's signature written all over it. And there's so many different ones rushing around inside me, it's hard to separate."

Merlin briefly closed his eyes, preparing himself, before moving along to kneel in front of Lyft who gave no indication he had nay idea what was going on.

Merlin once again completed the seemingly strenuous task of restoring magic, and Lyft too, regained some form of his previous self, although disorientated and weak.

Arthur watched as Merlin made his way around the Druids, repeating the process again and again, his face growing more wearied and his breathing becoming laboured. Arthur thought of asking him to stop and rest but he knew his entreaties would fall on deaf ears. The changes did not come over the Druids immediately, they were not completely restored to normal. Many just collapsed forward and immediately went into a deep sleep, their bodies trying to repair the damage and rest itself. They were all weak and disorientated and many were hysterical, but still Merlin worked. He finally reached the last Druid, and once he had been escorted away to rest, Merlin collapsed on the floor his hands over his face.

"Never again," his voice came, muffled.

Arthur laughed and sat down beside him.

"That was quite impressive you know, what you just did. Not just the magic part, but the dedication and loyalty it took to do it."

Merlin peeked out from under his hands.

"A compliment Arthur? I think you're going soft."

Arthur almost punched him but saw just how drawn out and wearied he was and refrained himself. All joking aside though, he had to talk to Merlin.

"I'm serious Merlin. What you did on the battlefield was...well amazing."

"Glad you liked it."

Merlin removed his hands from his face and sat up.

Arthur kept going however.

"You've really been able to use magic before you could walk or talk? You've taught yourself all of that in secret, despite the danger?"

Merlin looked embarrassed.

"Well, the Druids helped a little."

Arthur laughed softly.

"I am impressed though Merlin. Seriously. And...I'm sorry I've always treated you like such an idiot all this time."

Merlin frowned at Arthur and opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur stopped him.

"I don't want any cocky remark Merlin, let me finish before I take it all back."

Arthur breathed in.

"I appreciate now how hard it's been for you Merlin, All this time, being in fear for your life, but still risking it every day for mine. I truly am grateful Merlin. You always stuck by me, no matter how much of a prat I acted towards you. I honestly don't know how you put up with me. I'm sorry how I acted after everyone found out. I'm sorry I didn't believe you or try to do anything to help you. I never should have doubted you. You're the only...well, friend I've ever had. And you've always been there. Thank you."

Arthur fell into silence, not looking at Merlin. It was not often his pride allowed him to make such apologies and showing such gratitude. But it had to be said.

Merlin didn't say anything, just looked at the ground a small smile playing on his lips.

Finally he spoke.

"So I can be expecting a pay rise then?"

Arthur looked at him, and they both burst into laughter. The laughter felt good, in a time of such despair and destruction.

"Even in the darkest of times there can be laughter. It is what keeps us human."

Arthur and Merlin spun around and saw Fyrmest standing in front of them smiling, his hands clasped in front of him.

"Do not stop on my account. Laughter is the best cure for despair and and all ills," he said, looking at Merlin, who already looked much less wearied. "I just came to inform you that Byrne's 'trial' for want of a better word, will take place at sundown. That gives enough time to further repairs on Camelot, and to allow the Druids sufficient time to partially recover, at least enough to participate. Many have already shown great improvement, it appears you have the hands of a Healer Emrys."

"Hmph, try telling Gaius that," Merlin spoke to himself, although he looked pleased.

Fyrmest then departed, leaving them alone again.

Arthur stood up.

"I suppose I had better go and find my Knights, there's still a lot of work to be done in the city."

Merlin nodded, still seated on the ground.

"Any sign of your father?"

Arthur winced involuntarily.

"No, I don't know where he's hiding, and I don't know what he'll do now, but I can't think of that now. I need to lead these people."

Merlin nodded again. He stood up, swaying slightly.

"And I have a lot of injured people who need seeing to."

"Are you sure you're strong enough to heal them?" Arthur asked concernedly. The last thing he needed was for Merlin to collapse.

Merlin grinned.

"For what I've got planned, most definitely. The advantage of living for so long with Gaius means I picked up on a lot of ways to heal without magic. I'm not stupid enough to completely exhaust myself Arthur."

Arthur nodded. He was still adjusting to the idea that Merlin wasn't just his hopeless servant. He was much smarter and powerful than Arthur could ever have guessed.

They made their way back to the front gates of Camelot, where most of the destruction and injured were. An unofficial command centre had been set up by the Knights here, opposite the temporary Infirmary where the druids were either recovering or working their way steadily through the injured. Arthur saw some of his Knights being treated by Druids and the sight made him glad.. Perhaps the old prejudices wouldn't be hard to throw away after all.

Merlin saw the overcrowded Infirmary and looked at Arthur.

"I'm not needed here. I'll go to the one at the palace with Gaius."

Arthur acknowledged this.

"Be careful though at the palace. Watch all the windows carefully. My father's quite a good shot with a crossbow."

Merlin smiled weakly and left.

Arthur looked at the Knights in front of him. Back to work then..

There was so much to do, he barely felt the time passing. The true devastation of Camelot became increasingly clear as the day wore on. The city had not even been this badly damaged during the attack of the dragon.

The citizens of Camelot, many of whom had fled to the outlying villages before the attack, returned with grim faces to find their homes destroyed, and their loved ones slain. Arthur vowed he would never allow such destruction to befall the city again. If he ever achieved anything as king, it would be that.

Before he knew it, he saw the blood red sun dipping below the houses and knew it was now time.

He and his Knights gathered back at the main gates, which had unofficially become the Druid headquarters, as though they were too frightened to venture too far into the city. It seemed all of the Druids were there, some battle-scarred and injured, others like Brim and Lyft being supported by others but their faces making up for the strength their bodies lacked.

Fyrmest saw him coming and beckoned to him. He took in the Knights, paused for a moment, then nodded. It seemed he realised that the people of Camelot also deserved a say in the decision.

He saw Merlin standing next to Fyrmest, his face unusually grave. Morgana was also there, standing like a queen, acting like the true leader she was.

He saw Gaius moving in and out of the Druids, offering assistance to those who were injured and weak.

Then he saw Gwen, helping to support some of the weaker Druids. His heart lifted at the sight of her. Her face was serious and sombre, but she showed genuine care and kindness to the Druids. He wanted to go over to her, but Fyrmest spoke up at that moment:

"Druids, Knights of Camelot, you know why we are gathered here. We must decide on the fate of one man, the man who is responsible for all that has occurred here today. He is Firen, formerly blacksmith of Camelot, then Byrne, High Priest of Fire and Elder of the Druids. He is now just Byrne, a ruin of his former self and I ask of you all, what is to be done. Mercy, or death?"

There were some murmurings at this in the crowd, some angry, others thoughtful, however no one spoke up.

Fyrmest nodded to the side, and the soldier and Druid Arthur had set to guarding Byrne earlier appeared and brought him in, his hands bound, facing the crowd. There were a great more number of whispered conversations now, like the sound of wind through the branches of a tree. Byrne looked at none of them, his eyes averted from his former friends.

Arthur once again felt the familiar surge of anger at the sight of him. How could he stand there so unconcerned?

Fyrmest sighed.

"Once we were great friends Byrne, we helped to found this Druid clan, we started this safe haven for all those who were persecuted. It pains me to see what you have done."

Byrne said nothing.

For the first time, Arthur saw a flicker of anger in Fyrmest.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Byrne remained silent as the grave.

"Umm...that may be my fault Fyrmest." The Druid who had been guarding him spoke hesitantly. "I put a Silencing spell on him, I couldn't abide the screaming and curses he was shouting at us."

Fyrmest shook his head sadly.

"I doubt he would have spoken to us anyway."

He waved his hand however and his eyes flashed; Arthur guessed he had removed the spell as nothing else seemed to be happening.

"Well, I suppose we had better start. Who wants to go first?"

"I do." Morgana stepped forward confidently. She surveyed the Druids in front of her.

"This man, if a man he can be called, is the reason we are now standing in a ruined city, licking our wounds, caring for the dead. He has betrayed our Order, he has went against everything that we teach, betraying his friends, murdering innocent people! He does not deserve mercy! Let his death be an end to the hate and vengeance he preaches to his followers. Let us stop this now!"

Arthur was slightly shocked by this speech. He remembered their times in Camelot, when Morgana would plead the case of sorcerers to Uther and beg for their lives. But then, he supposed this was different.

Many Druids had shown support at this statement, nodding their heads vigorously and shouting out, including some of his Knights, however many made noises of dissent and shook their heads.

Morgana looked to Brim, who stepped forth with some difficulty leaning on another Druid, but when he spoke, his voice was much stronger than it had been. It seemed he had forsaken any attempt at trying to communicate mentally.

" Byrne has indeed breached all of our laws and betrayed us all, yet do we want to spill even more blood on such a day? Many have died today, many have come dangerously close, myself included. Are we right to add one more to that number? I do not, and will never forgive him for what he has done, and I can never hope to understand fully what he has went through to drive him to this. I am not making excuses for him, we have all endured suffering in our lives, but we can not all hope to remain strong in the face of it. Let this be the start of a new time, no death, no vengeance. They will never get us anywhere."

Again, noises of both support and opposition. Arthur could not believe that Brim was sticking up for Byrne, after what he had done to him. Arthur had seen what suffering Byrne had inflicted on Brim; how could any man forgive that?

However it seemed not all did.

"It will signal to future generations that we will not tolerate hatred in our midst, nor quests for revenge Brim!" Lyft spoke now, his voice cracking, indicating he had not used it in a very long time. " This is not a vengeful killing it is justice, and to ensure this will never happen again!"

Shouts from the crowd now rang out.

"It will only make him a martyr!"

"We cannot let him live!"

"My brother is dead because of him!"

"We must show the people of Camelot that we are a merciful people, and not murderers as some think!"

"It is only right he dies for his crime!"

"I agree."

The rabble of the crowd died out as they looked to the speaker: Byrne.

He looked around at them all, a fire burning in his eyes.

"I do not want your pity. I don't want mercy. I have spent my adult life seeking revenge, now that I cannot achieve it I will die now. To accept pity from you disgusts me."

"You disgust me Byrne," said Merlin, who Arthur had suddenly noticed had remained rather quiet till now. "But it would be greater punishment to let you live, to deny you what you want. Death is a mercy to you. You will live with your tortured memories, and perhaps before you eventually die, you will see what you have done, and you will be sorry for it."

Byrne glared at him, but much of the crowd were whispering excitedly again, some looked uncertain.

Some however were not convinced.

"That will never happen," Morgana said fiercely. "We are a peaceful people, but sometimes the pacifist approach would do more harm than good. We cannot let him live. I have a deep foreboding, a feeling, to let him live would spell disaster."

Brim snorted.

"We are supposed to base our decision on a feeling?"

Morgana wheeled around to glare at him.

"In case you had forgotten Brim, I happen to be a Seer, my feelings generally turn out to be accurate!"

"Yes, a Seer. Very convenient."

The debate continued in this vein for some time and Arthur soon grew weary of the arguing, the same points being repeated again and again. Byrne stood, looking down at his feet, not listening to the debate around him. He didn't look contemptuous now, or smug, or angry. He simply looked lost, and for the first time, melancholy, as though remembering some past evil. Unbidden, a small felling of pity grew. Arthur still hated him for what he had done, but he now had some sort of inkling as to why. When he had found out from Morgause what his father had done to ensure Arthur's birth, resorting to magic, then turning against it, he had been similarly angry. He had felt the rage and fury overpower him until he was blind to all else, and had almost killed his father because of it. The situations were completely different, but Arthur felt he understood him a little better.

He caught Merlin's eye and Merlin looked down at Byrne and back at Arthur, meaning in his gaze. Arthur finally understood Merlin's side of the argument, as much as he hated to admit it, as much as he hated to show pity to such a man. He nodded to Merlin. He now agreed with him. The killing had to stop, and with him as future king of Camelot, it should start with him.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of endless debate, Fyrmest held up his hand; "Now it is time to vote. I will ask the Elders first."

He looked to Morgana.

"I vote he dies."

Fyrmest looked next to Brim.

"I vote he lives."

"As do I," Fyrmest added. "Lyft?"

"I vote he dies."

It seemed like a stalemate until:

"Emrys? Arthur?"

Merlin and Arthur were both surprised at being counted among the Elders.

"Us?" Asked Merlin.

"Of course. You have led these people as Elders, you have a right to vote with us."

Merlin drew in a breath.

"Then I vote he lives."

There was muttering at this in the crowd, clearly Emrys' decision was going to be influential amongst them.

"I too, vote that he lives." Arthur spoke up, hating his own decision. As much as he wanted for Byrne to die, he could not condone it.

The Druids and Arthur's Knights looked at him in shock at this statement, and more frenzied whispering broke out. Fyrmest caught Arthur's eye and gave a faint smile. Arthur sometimes got the feeling Fyrmest was just too good a reader of people.

Fyrmest spoke:

"Well, then. Your leaders have voted four to two to keep Byrne alive. But now it is your turn. If you are able, conjure an orb in the palm of your hand. Colour it red for death, green for life. If you are unable, raise your hand for life."

Many glowing orbs now filled the air, the red standing out like spots of blood, however there seemed to be a predominance of green. Arthur tried to count but found there were too many. He looked to his Knights and found that they had all raised their hands. He was surprised at this, many had voiced desires for Byrne's death.

Sir Leon spoke to him in an undertone:

"We follow you Sire, and we support your decision."

Arthur nodded, touched by the loyalty of his Knights. He just hoped he himself had made the right decision.

Fyrmest had now finished counting and spoke the decision to everyone gathered, with no bias in his voice.

"The company had voted against the execution of Byrne."

Morgana looked outraged at this, but as the vote had been her idea in the first place she could hardly dispute it.

Byrne remained emotionless and made no reaction to the news.

The Druids began to disperse, but the Elders and Byrne, remained. Arthur made his way to them.

Fyrmest watched him carefully as he approached.

"Your decision proved instrumental in deciding the outcome today Arthur."

"I hope I made the right one."

"So do I. But even the wisest of us cannot see what consequences lie ahead."

Arthur couldn't tell if this was supportive of his decision or critical, but he was left in no doubt of Morgana's comments.

"You idiot! What made you change your mind like that?"

Arthur shrugged.

"I guess I saw the larger picture."

Morgana ceased looking angry, and instead looked worried.

"I still say something bad will come of this. I can just tell somehow. I just hope you haven't made the wrong decision Arthur."

Merlin was standing off to the side, deep in thought.

Arthur moved over and joined him.

"Go on then, gloat."

"I don't know what you mean Arthur," Merlin said innocently.

"Yes you do, you're just dying to boast about how you managed to change my mind."

Merlin grinned.

"I wasn't thinking of doing any such thing."

"Liar."

Merlin smirked. Then he looked thoughtful again.

"I hope we've made the right choice."

Arthur sighed.

"Why is everyone saying that after we've made the decision?"

Merlin smiled.

"The joys of uncertainty I suppose."

"Well, you'd better get certain soon, because it'll be my head on the chopping block if something evil happens and Morgana gets a hold of me."

"And that should bother me why?"

Arthur barely refrained from whacking Merlin around the head when he was distracted by the arrival of a small boy.

Merlin saw Hal running past him and held out a hand to stop him.

"Hal, you're bleeding."

Hal shrugged, wiping away the blood which crept down his face from a large gash in his forehead.

"It doesn't hurt. It makes me look tougher."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"It'll make you look dead if you get an infection Hal, stay still."

He placed his hand over the gash and released a flow of magic.

"Hǣlan"

Instantly the skin below began to heal itself, and new unmarked skin began to grow over the wound, leaving only a tiny trace of a white scar.

Hal pouted.

"Honestly Hal, you can't go around with your head split open. Didn't someone notice and heal it earlier?"

Hal looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Well...all right, I didn't get it doing anything brave or heroic. I was at the meeting and I fell over and hit a rock. I guess I'm not very brave."

Arthur laughed and bent down to look at Hal.

"Bravery isn't measured in the amount of injuries you get fighting a battle. You're here aren't you? I'd say coming all this way to help us is pretty brave."

Hal smiled broadly and began to look rather proud of himself.

It was at that moment, the Druid and soldier responsible for guarding Byrne made to walk past, escorting the shamed sorcerer between them.

Byrne looked up for a split second, his eyes fell on Hal and he froze.

In later times Merlin could not account for what had happened next, what triggered Byrne's next move.

Whether it was the sight of such happiness in the midst of such despair; whether it was the sight of his former pupil talking with his enemies; whether it was the sight of a young boy on the streets of Camelot reminding him of all that he had lost, Merlin never found out.

Byrne released an agonised cry, and as Merlin had seen him do at his family's execution he rushed forward towards them madly, and quick as lightning he reached behind him and pulled the soldier's sword from its sheath and lunged towards them.

It happened as though in slow-motion, Merlin saw it happening but could do nothing to stop it, some unseen force was preventing him from moving.

Hal yelled.

Arthur pushed him out of the way and dove in front of him.

Right in the path of the oncoming sword.

Blood splattered Hal's face, and the flagstones of the ground. And Arthur fell to his knees, his hands pressed to his belly.

Merlin let out a terrible cry and the force that was preventing him from moving released him and Merlin set forth a torrent of energy that sprang to his mind without him summoning a spell, that blasted into Byrne and sent him flying across the courtyard, where he fell upon the sword he had wounded Arthur with.

Merlin rushed towards Arthur, his blood rushing in his ears so loud he could barely think, his heart beating furiously.

No...

He reached Arthur who had fallen forwards onto the ground a pool of blood slowly collecting around him. He seized him and rolled him over onto his back.

Arthur looked at him, his eyes fluttering feebly, his breathing shallow. Before Merlin could do anything, he heard another agonised cry.

He looked up an saw Uther running towards them, his face contorted in pain.

"My son! My son!"

He flung himself on the ground where Arthur lay, his eyes mad with sorrow.

Arthur looked at him briefly, before closing his eyes. His breathing continued however, which gave Merlin hope.

He pulled at Arthur's armour, where the tiniest of gaps had allowed the sword blade to enter, intending to expose the wound in order to heal it, but Uther hit his hands away.

Merlin looked up and saw Uther staring at him in a terrible rage.

"Leave him! Do not touch him!"

Merlin did not have the time.

"I can save him! Let me heal him!"

"I will not have you befoul my family by practising your foul craft on my son!"

"I can save his life! Let me, please!"

"This is your fault! You did this to him!"

"I did not! It was him!" he gestured towards Byrne, who lay in another pool of blood. It was then he noticed they were not alone. Many Druids were gathered around, shock on their faces. Merlin saw Gwen's face among them, grief-stricken and flooded by tears.

Uther barely glanced at Byrne.

"That man is dead."

"He is now!"

"This was your fault! You led him astray! It was the trust he placed in you that led to his downfall!"

"He is not dead! I can save him!"

Merlin was getting frantic now. Arthur's breathing grew weaker and weaker. This couldn't be happening. Not to Arthur. Not after everything that had already happened today.

Uther still clung to Arthur, sobbing through his rage.

"You brought this upon us."

Merlin couldn't see another way out of this, He had to make Uther see sense! He was running out of time.

Morgana's foreboding now made sense. With a chill, Merlin remembered what Morgana had heard in her dream, the voice. Pendragon must trust Emrys. If Pendragon does not trust Emrys, Camelot will fall. Merlin had assumed that had meant Arthur. He saw his mistake now: it was the other Pendragon. Uther Pendragon. If Uther didn't trust Merlin to heal Arthur, Camelot would fall. The force that had prevented Merlin from doing anything to help Arthur made sense now, this was the way it was supposed to turn out.

"Sire, if you don't trust me, he'll die!" Merlin practically begged Uther. "Please Sire! He's going to die!"

Uther looked up at Merlin, his eyes expressionless.

"Why should I trust you?"

A/N: Yes, I know...I'm seriously evil...hehe...

I know it seems a bit cliché, and the whole debate thing about saving Byrne only for him to die seems a bit pointless but...it will be explained.

Anyways, thought I'd update before the next episode tonight, Saturday's my Merlin day. Please make it a good one and keep any rotten tomatoes you might wish to throw at me for that evil cliffy to yourself. Paticularly those of you who know where I live...

Anyways, please review and don't be too annoyed with me! :D