HELLO EVERYONE GUESS WHO'S BACK! You won't believe why I wasn't online for so long-it's a long story and so I'll put it at the bottom of the chapter. I'll not keep you from reading the chapter for any longer!
I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!
Hymn for the Missing: Red (by the way, their whole album is Mergana)
"I'm alive."
The words were the first that came to Merlin's dazed mind, and he jumped up only to fall back at the vertigo and splitting headache that accompanied the movement. A warm hand helped him back up after he swallowed the nausea, the feeling in his numb limbs returning with every breath of air. Heart pounding, he turned to see Morgana at his side, forehead creased with worry but eyes flooded with relief.
"Water," he croaked, and she handed him the glass at his bedside. Merlin gulped it down quickly, coughing, lungs still riddled with smoke.
"Merlin—"
"Arthur. He saved my life."
Morgana froze, looking at him with widening eyes.
"Sorry?"
"He had me at his mercy and he spared my life."
"He smashed your head with the hilt of his sword! He left you unconscious on a raging battlefield where you were sure to perish if I hadn't seen what happened and borne you back to the citadel safety."
"But still, he could have taken my head off with ease, instead he rendered me simply incapacitated."
"It was because he couldn't kill you. He was weak."
"I know what was in his eyes," Merlin snapped, eyes flashing gold in anger. "And Arthur is not weak, he would have killed me if he'd wanted to and yet he didn't."
Morgana's eyes narrowed, but her response was cut off by the sudden opening of the door.
"My lord, my lady," the soldier breathed, giving them each nods to the heads before continuing. "The king's regiment has just arrived in the castle and our lord is grievously wounded. "
The sorcerers said nothing, Merlin jumping to his feet as though not previously wounded, and together they ran past the soldier and into the hallways of Glendale's citadel. Injured men and women lined the sides of the walls, healers rushing to and fro like bees. Through the windows the occasional burst of light illuminated the bustling corridors, tell-tale signs of the war raging just outside.
They reached the hall leading to the king's chambers breathing heavily, skidding around the corner only to be stopped dead in their tracks by an anguished scream. Merlin looked at Morgana with wide eyes and they continued, slamming the doors open.
They were too late.
Merlin raced over and wrapped his arms around Gwenivere before she fell to the floor, reaching towards her father's bloodied form on the bed before them. Gaius, arms up to his elbows stained scarlet, reached over and drew the pristine white cover over the king of Glendale's mutilated face.
"FATHER, NO!" Gwenivere screamed hoarsely, writhing in Merlin's strong arms as he muttered soothingly in her ears, trying to no avail to calm his grieving friend.
Morgana touched the princess lightly on the cheek, muttering a calming spell. Gwen quieted in the warlock's arms, tears still cascading down her caramel cheeks. He lifted her up gently and nodded to Gaius, who stood prone by the king's bedside, Phillip's comforting hand on her shoulder.
Merlin and Morgana bore the princess to her room, the sorcerer waiting on the familiar balcony as Morgana spoke to the other girl inside and helped her to bed. The sound of a closing door startled Merlin from his dark thoughts and he turned to see Morgana walking towards him.
He opened his arms and she entered him, Merlin kissing her lips softly, an unspoken apology for the words earlier.
"She will rest now," Morgana said softly, looking out from the balcony.
"But for how long? You and I both know Uther will not obey the long standing codes of war and cease his attack to give us a day to bury the king; he will mount it now while we're still weak. His unending offense is proof of that." Merlin looked over the railing. Camelot's forces had not yet broken into the city. Instead they lay siege to it, those remaining of Glendale's army trying to protect the walls. Smoke and fire rose into the night sky, and Merlin could almost hear the screams from their perch on the highest towers of the citadel.
"Gwenivere is queen now."
Merlin turned to look at Morgana with sad eyes. "It's a terrible way to come to the throne…."
"Do you ever wonder why?"
"Sorry?"
"Do you ever wonder why it is that only the sons and daughters of kings may take the thrones, when those with greater power are forced to serve them?"
Merlin's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Morgana?"
"Only that I question the way things have always been done. Why is it that the crown is only passed through bloodlines, when there might be others more capable of handling the pressures of the title?"
"You speak treason."
"There is no one here to hear me."
"Except me."
Morgana raised her eyebrows at him, anger flashing across those jade eyes. "Have you ever questioned why you bow before them? Not Gwenivere, but Arthur as well, all those kings you were forced to kneel to. Men and women you could kill with a whisper, and instead they expect you to bow before them. Why is it that the power you wield is not more influential than the power they inherited?"
"I've never wanted people to bow before me, and anyway, it is not my place. I am a loyal servant to the crown, I do not wish it for myself."
"But why? Why must we bow before those who are weaker than us?"
Merlin narrowed his eyes further, feeling the anger rise to the surface of his skin. "Our gifts weren't given to us so that we may control people, that we may wield ourselves above them. That was never their purpose. We were created to maintain and keep a peace—"
"And yet we are the most powerful players in this war. The death of one of us would seal the fate of this very kingdom."
"Enough, Morgana, let us not speak of these things. Were we overheard—"
"What could they possibly do to us? They can't touch us, and they wouldn't dare—"
A large smash interrupted her words, and the two watched in horror as the great gates of Glendale shuddered under the strength of a battering ram.
"They're breaking in," Morgana murmured, and the two stormed back inside Gwen's chambers-only to find the princess dressed in her armor.
"Call for the generals and commanders to meet in the council chambers. Also call for every soldier not already fighting to meet in the courtyard before the citadel. Quickly, Merlin," Gwenivere ordered, adjusting the final latch on her gauntlet and leading the way out into the roiling halls.
The other council members were already in the chambers by the time they arrived, having received Merlin's urgent message, his words still echoing in their minds. Gwen nodded to them before opening a map of Glendale, speaking in a hurried voice.
"We don't have much time. There are four gates that Uther's men can and will break into, and I need each one defended. I need the army divided into three for each of the entrances closest to civilians. Have I any generals who could lead those forces?" Three hands raised and Gwenivere told them where to go before they ran out the doors and out of sight. "Merlin, I need you to station the dragons in the lower town and I need their help to both protect the citizens and get them out of town. Will you ask it from them?"
Merlin nodded, closing his eyes and putting a hand in his temple, trying to locate Kilgarrah's mind through the din of voices in his head.
Did you hear that, Kilgarrah?
Yes, young warlock, we've already begun.
"It's done," Merlin told his friend, and Gwenivere nodded.
"I have one last favor to ask of you, old friend. Our army is thin, we haven't enough men to secure the fourth gate. Could you and Morgana hold Camelot's forces off before we can get you reinforcements? You will be getting the bulk of the army, so if it is too much…."
Morgana turned to Merlin with a smirk, eyes flashing gold. "I'm not feeling tired, you?"
"Not at all," the warlock replied with a grin, stretching his arms. "I'm not dead yet, may as well give it another shot."
Gwen rolled her eyes before smiling softly. "We'll get you reinforcements as soon as we can. If it gets to be too much, pull back. "
Morgana snorted. " Don't worry, Gwenivere, believe me when I say they are more frightened of us than we are of them."
"Then good luck," the princess whispered, eyeing Merlin with a worried gaze. He walked over and kissed her gently on the forehead.
"Are you ok?"
"No—but there's no time for that now. I needn't remind you that I can't lose the both of you, not after…."
Merlin only winked at her and followed Morgana out the door to the largest of Glendale's four gates, magic already humming at the surface of his skin.
Uther stroked the grains of his makeshift throne softly, sitting regally in his large tent.
"My lord, we have him here," a soldier called, ducking his head through the door flap. The king only gestured, straightening himself in the small throne as the two guards came in, dragging between them a man with matted blonde hair.
"Is what they say true?" Uther asked, his voice giving way to a deathly silence.
"Father—"
"ANSWER ME SIMPLY. Did you, or did you not spare the life of an enemy?"
Arthur looked up at his father, a small trickle of blood running down his forehead and across his bruised face. "I did not spare the life of an enemy. I spared the life of a friend."
Uther was on his feet in a heartbeat, and Arthur's head snapped to the side. The seal that he was to inherit sliced open his cheek, and the prince thought this must have been how Merlin felt all those months ago. He resisted the shudder that rose up from his belly and did not react.
"How could you? My own son, betray me to the enemy."
"But are they our enemies, father? They were willing to strike a truce with us and we deceived them. This war goes against everything Camelot was built upon."
"They have harbored and encouraged sorcery—"
"How can you damn those with magic when your own daughter wields it?"
Uther raised his hand, nearly hitting his son again, eyes blazing. "Hold your tongue, boy!"
"What?" Arthur mocked tauntingly, leaning forward against the arms of the guards. "Is the mighty Uther of Camelot afraid for the world to discover that the great sorceress keeping him from his long awaited victory is actually the bastard daughter he denied the throne?"
"How DARE you."
"How dare I? Morgana was cast away like a ragdoll as a child, led to believe she was an orphan, forced to grieve the loss of two parents when her father was too much of a coward to accept her as his own. She should have been raised a princess, not the king's orphan ward, condemned to years of loneliness when she actually had a family who could have eased her suffering."
"I loved Morgana like a daughter. I spared her no expense—"
"But you kept her identity a secret. I was her brother and I didn't learn the truth until I was faced with her betrayal, and her betrayal was for good reason. You could never have let Morgana be named a Pendragon for you could never let there be a chance for a daughter of Vivienne to take to throne, because then the whole world would know that Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot and enemy of the Old Religion, had once fallen in love with a sorceress. Well now look what your secrets have wrought. Your world is crashing down. You think Morgana will spare you when you tell her the truth behind her birth? To tell her would only thicken her desire for your blood."
"I have never wronged her—"
"You murdered and persecuted her kind! You drowned her visions with sleeping drafts and swept away her fears with a cold hand. You let her suffer in silence, terrified of the truth and terrified of you. She was a rose in a nest of vipers - are you surprised she grew thorns?"
"Have you gone mad, Arthur? You have played as much a part in this war as I have."
"And now I denounce it. Stop this, Father. Their king is dead, you have left a daughter orphaned and have laid siege to an innocent citadel. Turn away, end this now. Do not press forward, it only ends in death."
Uther was silent for a moment, studying his son's face before speaking again. "This is because of her, isn't it? Gwenivere….the child of the fool king. You harbor feeling for our enemy's daughter, how quaint. I've told you time and again to rule with your head, Arthur, not your heart. Now you have the final proof. When this war is over, you will understand. Camelot always comes first."
The prince struggled against the arms holding him in place, voice becoming desperate. "Can you not see the folly in this, Father? Your own children have turned against you, what more proof do you need? Please, Father, please...don't do this."
"Someday you will understand, Arthur, what it means to be king. But now is not the time. Stay now in shackles and await my return."
"Your return?"
"I will take your place in the siege, and I will run my sword through the heart of the warlock who is so dear to you that you betrayed your father for his survival. And when I have brought Glendale to its knees I will bring Gwenivere here and make you watch as I slit her throat. Before the week is out all that was left of the House of Leodogrance will be gone, and the Pendragons will finally rule a kingdom fit for their name."
"No, Father, don't do this!"
"Take him away."
"NO, FATHER!" Arthur screamed as the soldiers pulled him out of the room, his boots leaving trail marks in the soft soil.
Uther shook his head. The young are foolish and commanded by love; someday he will understand that I was right.
This war is almost over.
"Here," Morgana tossed a sword to where Merlin sat, buckling the gauntlets to his forearms. He tested the balance and for a moment mourned the loss of Excalibur on the battlefield, but the warlock didn't dwell on it and sheathed the worn sword into the scabbard at his side. It would have to do.
"I'm ready," he called to her.
"As am I."
"Then let's go."
The two made their way towards the gate, the crowds thinning out as they approached the near deserted local. Bodies already littered the streets, scattered about like the toys of a careless child, and Merlin and Morgana did their best to move them gently out of the way so they wouldn't be mutilated in the battle that was sure to come.
And then they waited.
Silence fell as the pair stood before the great gates, bows strung at the ready—they were attempting to minimalize their use of magic until it was absolutely necessary. A soft wind rustled their hair, caressing their bruised and cut skin like a gentle touch, soothing and smooth.
BANG.
The wooden doors shuddered in front of them, grains straining against the force on the other side. Merlin turned to Morgana, smiling at her softly and rubbing his hand against her own—simply a comforting touch. But the sorceress wouldn't have it, bringing him down for a passionate kiss before standing firm again, a twinkle in both of their eyes.
BANG.
By now they could hear the shouts from the other side. Uther must have ordered his men to remain silent to surprise their enemy, but he must not have factored Gwenivere's brilliance into account. The chains that were strung from the top to the bottom of the wooden face rattled against the assault of the battering ram, clanking noisily and echoing down the empty streets.
BANG.
All hell broke loose.
Camelot's forces surged through the smashed doors, but they slid to a halt when they saw the two figures before them. They had been prepared for a ragtag group of soldiers, bloodied and bruised, if not in high spirits. A force that would meet them head on. A force that would be easy to defeat.
But somehow the sight of only two made their blood curdle.
Morgana's hair was loose, falling about her like a raven halo, tangled and braided and long. Wearing worn silver plated armor over black leather, the sorceress looked worn but somehow even more terrifying, the brilliant red marring her ivory skin, tell-tale signs of the battles in which she had won and her enemies had lost.
Standing by her side, Merlin was a comparable sight. Drawn to full height, the warlock looked calm as the men roared inside his city's walls, long pale fingers caressing the grains of the longbow in his hand. He seemed unperturbed by their numbers, in fact they both did. As though they were here to welcome the men in, not keep them out. Both sides didn't move, the wind whistling softly between them as the soldiers waited for the sorcerers to retaliate.
Languidly, Merlin turned to Morgana and nodded. The pair raised their bows with ease, each notching three silver-tipped arrows and aiming them at the enemy. As one, they drew the heavy strings as easily as they would bend a twig, the powerful muscles of their backs and shoulders smooth and still. The six silver points gleamed like the eyes of a hawk, a hawk preparing itself to dive upon its unsuspecting prey.
Then they released them.
Camelot's men put up their shields, almost laughing. Six arrows?Is that all they could do?
Eyes burned gold and suddenly the arrows turned to spears set ablaze with blue flame, and when they collided with Camelot's shields, they brought forth explosions that blasted men several feet away and dismembered bodies, spraying the survivors with warm scarlet.
The unknown commander roared, and the knights ran forward towards the sorcerers. Merlin nodded at Morgana and went on the offensive, leaving her to deal with their defensive. He placed his palm to the ground, whispering a spell. The broken cobblestones rippled like a wave, knocking the soldiers off their feet. Then, with a second quickly muttered incantation, he made the ground like liquid, knights falling through the rocky surface as though it were quicksand.
Morgana deflected the arrows that came their way, snapping her fingers and sending them all back down to those who cast them. Shields were of no use as she increased their speed, the iron tips ripping through metal and flesh like parchment.
While the soldiers were still picking themselves up from the first onslaught of attacks, Merlin and Morgana joined hands, chanting into the night sky.
"Ad cans aeris flamma, ut flamma ex animo hostium animi uastatione!"
A wall of flame exploded between them and their enemies, except then the flame began to move. Taking the shapes of animals, the giant fires roared forward towards the knights, leaving trails of smoke in their wake. Men screamed in terror as fire lions roared smoke, and birds forged of flame hurtled burning boulders from above.
But still Camelot's men moved forward, more men coming through the broken gates and flooding the courtyard. Exhausted of magic, Merlin and Morgana unsheathed their swords and stood back to back, fighting as one. Ducking, turning, spinning, parrying until their motions became dizzying as they fought against the incessant tide, the sorcerers lost track of the hours in the blood.
It was getting to be too much. Muscles burning, Merlin turned to look at Morgana. A long gash bled on her arm, various bruises and scrapes littering her face, but she seemed fine. Her jade eyes caught his own, and he grit his teeth and kept fighting, struggling against the pain in his leg where a sword had caught him.
A short scream sent him whirling around again, eyes widening with fury as he saw Morgana stumble, an axe embedded in her shoulder and gushing blood everywhere. Merlin roared, men around them sent across the courtyard as he helped her keep her feet, eyes burning gold as magic fueled his stamina. She was fighting in an instant, using her left hand instead of her right. It was only by good fortune that the blow had been too weak to penetrate her armor any more than it did.
"Are you alright?" he called over the din.
"I'm fine," Morgana replied through gritted teeth, hewing a man's head from his shoulders, spraying the both of them with warm crimson.
However, the onslaught didn't stop, and Merlin finally felt fatigue closing in fast. That's when he turned around, looking here and there past the smoke and the magic that blurred his vision.
Then he realized there was no way out.
Camelot's soldiers had slowly but surely made it all the way around them, not even bothering to enter the citadel, instead remaining focused on the two sorcerers who fought in the center of the courtyard.
There was nowhere to retreat to.
Spears and swords raised, and Merlin and Morgana pressed closer and closer together, ceasing their fighting as they were encircled by hundreds of swords and spears pointed right at them.
And then there was silence.
Merlin waited for the feeling of all of those swords piercing through his body, and he encircled Morgana with arms, almost as though they could protect her in some way or form. But still the silence drew on. It was then that he realized that Uther must have ordered his men not to kill them, perhaps for the satisfaction of doing it himself.
The warlock looked down at his almost-lover with soft eyes, an idea lighting the brilliant blue.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Then hold on to me tightly."
Her hands gripped his waist, bringing their bodies close together in a tight embrace, their bodies fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. The warlock looked to the sky, beginning to chant a spell under his breath so the soldiers wouldn't notice as they waited for Uther to make his way towards them.
Morgana caught sight of Camelot's king from the corner of her eye, tightening her grip on Merlin's body as he made his way through his knights, sword drawn. She turned to the warlock, closing her eyes and listening to his voice murmer out the words of an unfamiliar spell. His body grew warmer and warmer and warmer as the power rushed through his veins, painting his blood gold as he called on every atom of strength he had left. As he neared the end of his chants, Uther only a yard away, Morgana tucked her head in the crook of his neck and buried her face there, taking in the scent of him through the smell of blood and iron that lingered on his bare skin due to his months at war. She could feel his pulse, quickening, quickening, quickening, as he called on his magic.
The two sorcerers who faced had faced an entire army, Morgana thought to herself. Not a terrible way to die.
But it seemed that Merlin had other ideas.
The final word tore from his lips with a cry and the ground began to rumble and shake, rocks falling from the walls of the citadel.
And then everything was consumed by a blinding light.
Gwenivere looked up from where she was fighting in the main courtyard. In fact, everyone looked up at the boom that rattled the earth beneath their feet, and at the bright light that rose from the ground and engulfed the world to each edge of the horizon in a split second.
A light that came from Merlin and Morgana's side of the battle.
Calling out, the princess turned around and ran towards them.
Morgana coughed in the darkness, dust and pebbles falling from her mouth. She was suffocating, under something warm and heavy that constricted her breath. Hearing nothing but a loud ringing in her ears, the sorceress shifted and struggled underneath the weight above her. Suddenly, she heard a groan.
Merlin.
She struggled, finally managing to roll him off of her onto his back, taking fresh air into her lungs. But before she could turn to see if he was alright, her sight caught the destruction he had caused.
Every building around them was decimated to rubble, the tallest walls of the citadel cracked and broken. Large boulders dug craters into the earth and littered the ground, rendering the once flat surface of the courtyard unrecognizable. Here and there lay red cloaks, torn and frayed and dirtied in the collision, and slowly the people in them began to shift.
Morgana turned her eyes towards Merlin. He lay on his back, winded, eyes open but glazed in pain. He was struggling to breathe, so she gently pulled him seated upright, rewarded with wheezing coughs as he attempted to clear his lungs of smoke and dust. When she pulled back her hand, Morgana froze.
It was covered in blood.
She moved her gaze to his back, letting out a pained cry at the state of it. He had shielded her from the blast with his own body, thus his back was torn ragged and bruised by the rubble that had fallen all around them. Morgana looked around and found a bloodied Camelot cloak with no owner to it, and she gently wrapped it around his back to keep it somewhat protected.
Around them, their enemies were slowly getting to their feet and approaching. Stumbling through the fields of rocks, they raised their swords to deal the final blows, the groans of their comrades setting fire to their already boiling blood, this time not bothering to heed their captain's commands. Morgana helped Merlin to his feet and the two of them picked up the nearest swords they could find, clinging to each other and trying to use the weathered iron as a protective barrier between them and their innumerable enemies. A wall of red rose to meet them, but before Camelot attacked, Gwenivere burst from within the citadel with a battle-cry, behind her Gwaine, Edwin, Surevres, and all the soldiers they could spare.
The knights turned to meet the new threat as the playing field began to even out, and Morgana couldn't help but smile.
"About time!" Merlin shouted coarsely to Gwaine as the two finally fought together side by side.
"We were a bit held up!" the knight responded with a laugh, and the two leapt into battle with newfound confidence.
Magic was blasted across the field with the arrival of the druids, the sorcerers using the rocks around them as weapons, hurtling them to their enemies to break bones and send people flying. More and more soldiers poured in from both sides, and the once desolated courtyard became a vicious battlefield.
Perhaps, just perhaps, they may win this battle yet.
Merlin swung his sword and took the head off his nearest opponent, ignoring the pain in his back as he struggled against the knights of Camelot. He'd lost sight of Morgana in the crowd, and when he had the chance he strained his neck to see if he could catch sight of her, but he was never successful. Worry coursed through his veins, and the weakness of his magic left a gaping hole in his chest as his mightiest weapon was denied him due to fatigue.
A knight roared into his vision and the warlock quickly engaged him, parrying the blow quickly and jabbing out his blade to stab the man across him. The soldier fell to Merlin's knees with a groan, blood spurting from his mouth as his life fled him.
Then a magnificent pain ripped across his vision, and he coughed as he felt something run through his chest. Merlin looked down with darkening eyes at the blade that jutted out from his abdomen, sliding through his ribs.
The warlock froze.
He felt suffocated, and even as he tried to breathe he felt oxygen evade him. A rough kick sent him sprawling across the ruined cobbles, and Merlin let out a ragged cry as the still embedded sword was slid from his body. Pulling himself off his stomach and onto his back, the warlock shuffled backwards on his elbows to the nearby citadel wall. He leaned against it as best he could so he could look his opponent in the eye, black spots dancing across his vision.
Uther Pendragon had a grim smile on his face as he stalked his enemy, sword raised and dripping blood. Admittedly, stabbing his enemy from behind was not the most honorable way to win a war, but the king saw no reason to show any respect to those who wielded the power of the Old Religion.
And oh how the mighty had fallen. In that moment his great foe turned into the boy that he was, struggling to keep himself propped up against the cracked wall of his citadel, blood seeping down his back and puddling around him.
The warlock coughed, rubies trickling down his lips—a tell-tale sign that death was not far. For sure the reapers that roamed the courtyard would soon find his fading light, and finally take the soul of the sorcerer that had denied the Pendragon king what he most desired—the end of magic in the seven kingdoms.
Walking quickly forward, the Pendragon raised his sword in the air to deal the final blow, to slit the throat of a man who had continually evaded death.
The cool touch of a blade on his neck stopped him.
"Step away from him," Morgana said softly to her guardian, voice laced with menace.
But the king wouldn't have it.
He swung his sword down quickly; however, it never reached its target.
Uther Pendragon screamed in agony and fell to his knees as his sword-arm was severed from his body, the limb falling limply with the sword still tight in its grip right next to the fallen warlock, the blood mingling with Merlin's own. The king of Camelot wheezed in pain as he struggled to keep the world in focus, looking up at his ward with too bright eyes.
"Morgana," he whispered. "You do not hate me."
"You cannot begin to know how much I hate you."
He looked up dejectedly at her, a salty tear running down his sooty cheek—whether from pain or sadness Morgana did not know. Nor did she care.
"Goodbye, Uther Pendragon," the priestess muttered, raising her sword high, but his words stopped her.
"You cannot kill me. Heaven would not grant entrance to a daughter who murdered her father."
The air left Morgana's lungs as though someone had hit her in the chest, and her eyes widened as a mixture of emotions flared across them. Finally, the emotions cooled and the jade turned to ice, a frostiness that spread to Morgana's silent reply.
"Then save me a seat in hell."
She swung the sword quickly, so quickly that his head remained attached to his body for a moment, a look of shock plastered on his bloodied features. Then it toppled, rolling to her feet, and Morgana felt an overwhelming nausea as the unseeing eyes stared up at her. Accusing, condemning, agonizing.
A whooshing sound seeped in through from the sound of the blood roaring in her ears, accompanied by the feeling that she was hit. She saw Merlin struggle to rise, failing as he fell back, screaming her name in both warning and agony.
The arrow had embedded itself below her collarbone, knocking the breath that had begun to fill her lungs again. Morgana stumbled to her knees, one trembling hand on the shaft as she looked down at it, then at Merlin with wide eyes. His mouth was open in terror and she could see him struggling to reach her, pain etched across his features. In the end it was she who crawled past the bodies towards him, and she pulled herself over his body to shield him from any further harm as the battle continued to rage around them.
His bloodied hand came to rest on her back, the arrow snapping between them as Morgana lay her head on his chest, her breathing becoming increasingly difficult. Yet the most frightening thing was not her own labored breath, but the sound of Merlin's heartbeat, a drum that should be beating fast but was instead beating slower and slower and slower.
Until it stopped altogether.
*takes a bow* Now that, ladies and gentleman, is what I call a proper cliffhanger.
SO WHY WAS LADYWARLOCK NOT ONLINE? Here's why:
I traveled to Nepal for a week which was amazing, I built a house for a poor village in the mountains, swam and took a safari with elephants, canoed during a thunderstorm with some crocodiles, and showered with buckets of icy cold water for a week. It was bloody brilliant. However my adventures gave me a very weak immune system and I'm actually still sick after all this time. I'm beginning to think the cough is permanent But I did not not update because I was sick, but because the compound where I lived blocked fanfiction.
Don't ask me how I'm on here now...all I'll say is that it's not strictly legal.
ANYWAYS. I hope you forgive me, I really was dying as well you know! All these brilliant fics were coming out and I couldn't review them (my foreign friend was copying and pasting new fic chapters on my email so I could catch up) but yeah I couldn't review! AND THANK YOU ARAMINA FOR YOUR SHOUTOUT IN YOUR AMAZING FIC! I LOVED IT BY THE WAY!
As always, I ask that you review. If you don't I assume the chapter was not good and that makes me sad *tear* so review (under pain of death).
MY NEXT UPDATE WILL HOPEFULLY BE SOONER THAN THE LAST IF THIS METHOD OF GETTING ON REMAINS SOLID SO CROSS YOUR FINGERS
I LOVE YOU ALL
GOODBYE