Hello my beautiful lovely magnificent readers! I've missed you! My final exam was on Friday (hallelujah) so school is now resuming as per normal so I finally had the chance to write! I managed to chug out this monster in that span of time (longest I've ever written I think) but I enjoyed it-even if I may have forgotten how to write but anyways...Well, this was a great chapter to write because it's all angst, writing the battle was ugh though so tell me how it went. You'd think that I would have gotten better at these things...

I've seen that there have been many new favorites and followers, so I'd like to welcome you! I hope that this chapter doesn't let you down after such a long wait!

Miss Missing You and Just One Yesterday: Fall Out Boy (Btw, any fans of theirs that live in Michigan, I'm going to their concert this summer, anyone else?)

After much too long, let us continue with the story!

The sorceress turned to him with a smile, taking the pouch from his hand and raising it to her lips.

"Thank you, Merlin, you're a true friend."

"I think I'm a little more than that," he joked, walking forward and looking out into the night, staring at the fading eclipse, wiping away a tear.

Morgana clutched her throat and fell to her knees.

Morgause wrenched her hand to her neck, the world suddenly blurring before her eyes. She stabbed the man before her quickly, barely feeling his warm blood splattering across her fair features. Spinning around, she caught sight of Nimueh, meeting the other priestess's eyes with a panicked gaze. Immediately, the woman knew what happened. She screamed out a spell, blasting everyone in a ten foot radius to the ground, racing towards Morgause and taking her slender hand, leading her deep within the burning citadel.

It was prophesied that his choice would rise or raze the seven kingdoms, but somehow Merlin didn't know if he had done either or as he stepped forward towards Morgana. In fact, he felt nothing. Just numbness. A simple nothingness that rose from his toes and enveloped his bearing, filling his ears with silence, dimming the edges of the world until all that remained were her jade eyes, looking up at him wide and bright, glistening with tears and horror.

Lowering himself, he reached towards her. She backed off, trying to escape his touch, but Morgana was weakening and ultimately let him draw her into his blood-soaked arms. She gasped and coughed, air slipping hoarsely from her lungs, throat closing. Every breath was like a lover's caress, bliss when given, but leaving her desperate for more. And so, since Morgana was denied oxygen, she held Merlin tighter instead, allowing the weight of his arms around her, the feel of his hard, warm body around her tie her to the world, focusing on nothing but the throb of his fluttering heartbeat at her back.

Merlin looked up at the broken ceiling of the throne room, trying to keep the tears from falling down his eyes. But they did. They fell onto Morgana's forearms, where she grasped his hands, her struggles lessening with every passing moment as the poison cursed her veins and turned her skin fever hot. Her eyes burned gold in an attempt to purge itself, but it was to no avail.

Then the doors blasted off their hinges, Morgause and Nimueh skidding to a startled stop inside. Their eyes widened at the sight before them. Merlin holding a dying Morgana in his arms, Arthur and Gwen looking on with shocked and horrified eyes. Morgause let out a cry and raced down towards the pair, sliding on her knees and wrenching Morgana's limp form into her armored arms, stroking her face and shaking her sister's shoulders.

"What has he done to you?" she murmured frantically, Nimueh falling to her knees by her side.

Merlin pulled away, tears in his eyes, gasping as the world returned to stark clarity.

"I had to."

Morgause looked up, shock written across her features.

"You poisoned her," she gasped.

Taking a breath, Merlin slowly pulled himself up and straightened his shoulders, trying not to look at his dying lover.

"You left me no choice."

"Tell me what you used and I can save her."

"First, stop the attack. Pull your armies out until at least tomorrow morning. If you want to know the poison you will undue the magic that smothers my powers—"

"TELL ME THE POISON OR DIE!" Morgause screamed at him, eyes burning gold with fury.

Merlin swallowed. "And she'll die with me."

Morgause looked up at him with a mixture of fury and desperation, pulling her head towards Morgana and touching her burning forehead with her own. Tears welled up in her eyes and she rocked her sister lightly back and forth.

"I don't want this any more than you," Merlin choked, his hands fists by his sides. "But you give me no choice. Do what I asked, and you can save her."

Morgause shook her head, wretched sadness turning the high priestess human. Then with a silent voice, eyes still fixed on Morgana, she began to speak softly. Eyes burning gold, she called upon her armies and whispered the counter curse, Nimueh an immobile statue by her side.

Merlin felt the return of his magic in a tidal wave, the world turning white then returning with more vivid clarity, lighting his blue eyes and buzzing through his veins in pleasure at its return. The warlock flexed his arm, the bonds around Gwen and Arthur falling, looking back down at the high priestesses.

"Hemlock," he said softly, looking down at Morgana. Save her.

Morgause now looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks and grip tightening around her sister. It was Nimueh who finally spoke, voice cool and nonchalant, but laced with icy venom as she appraised him.

"I told her to kill you. I told her you wouldn't do as she wanted. But Morgana loved you, and so didn't listen to me. She loved you, and she thought you loved her. No matter though. When we return tomorrow, with Morgana healed at our side, no power in heaven nor hell will save you and your precious kingdom from our wrath. That love that protected you will be gone, and all that will be left is a hatred that will run deeper than the roots of the ancient rowan tree."

"Leave," Merlin said coldly. "Before I change my mind."

Nimueh let out a tinkling laugh. "You may be powerful, Emrys, but you'll be dead by the scarlet sunset tomorrow, mark my words. Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!"

In a storm of black smoke the three women were gone, leaving Merlin alone to silence. Behind him, he heard Arthur and Gwen shift, approaching him slowly. Wiping away the tears from his cheeks and taking a rattling breath, Merlin straightened his shoulders and looked back at his friends.

"Merlin—" Gwen whispered softly, reaching for him. But he flinched from her touch.

"What's done is done. Just make sure I don't ever regret my decision." Turning his gaze to Arthur, he met his blue eyes with a steely gaze. "I bought us until tomorrow so we can centralize the forces. Go to the troops and tell them what to do. I'll deal with the undead army."

The king nodded, and just as Merlin moved to leave he blurted out," Thank you, Merlin."

Stopping, the warlock took a deep breath. "Don't thank me yet."

With that, Merlin strode out of the throne room, speeding down the ruined hallways and stepping over the bodies that littered the ground. Up ahead, he caught sight of a knight wrestling with a skeleton, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned it to ash. The young soldier looked up at him, eyes widening at the sight of the warlock. Merlin picked a sword off the ground, and as he walked his armor slowly inched its way up his body, magically growing on his form, and when he finally reached the main courtyard he looked the part of war general.

Enemies fled through the city gates, and the knights of both Camelot and Glendale watched in awe as Merlin slipped his way down the blood-soaked stairs, raw power emanating off his body in cold fury, black and silver armor unsullied on his lithe frame, until finally he disappeared into the crypts without giving the warriors a second glance.

Down below, the warlock destroyed the skeletons that guarded the shining rowan staff, incanting a spell under his breath and swinging his sword at the wood, shattering it in a blast of light. The remaining skeletons fell to the ground, bones once more, only blood the tell-tale sign of their former reanimation.

"We'll stand our forces right before the gates, and do our best to keep them from entering the city. Try to focus in the courtyard, and set up barricades in the streets to keep them from reaching the citadel where we'll house our wounded. If the citadel is taken, all will be lost…"

Arthur stopped, looking up from a map of Camelot as the door opened, Merlin striding in, wiping his sword with a stray piece of cloth.

"The skeletons are gone, the staff destroyed. Kilgarrah has informed me that all the civilians are out of the city, and one of his brethren gaurds them in the Forest of Ascetir. Those druids still loyal to me have answered my call. Just over one hundred shall come. The rest will not defy the will of the priestesses in battle, but they travel now to the people to help heal and protect the innocents. The dragons, and those druids who will fight, are at your command, sire."

Swallowing, the king nodded his head in thanks. Merlin joined them around the table, aware of the stares he was receiving. Arthur must have told him what happened, the sacrifice he had paid to give them a fighting chance, and he could see both pity and gratitude as they looked upon who must be the savior of the city.

Merlin was disgusted.

But he bent over the map, looking over their plans and nodding in understanding. "This looks good. I can cast a protective spell over the city to keep any projectiles or dark magic from entering, but I'm afraid that they will be able to use their powers hand to hand. All I can do is ensure we don't have to deal with the fire balls—if my strength can last. When I weaken, the spell will fail, and the city will be defenseless against a bulk magic attack. So, you must ensure that you push them out before then."

"Understood." Arthur took a deep breath and looked at the remaining knights and generals. "You know your jobs. Complete them, and may whichever god you believe in stand with you."

The men rushed out, leaving Merlin alone with the King.

"What would you have me do, my lord?"

"Send your druids with the armies, and let them protect the city as they see fit. I have no place to command them. As for the dragons," Arthur smiled grimly, "ask them to rain hell on the armies outside the gates."

The warlock nodded, eyes glowing gold as he relayed the message.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Our armies can protect against their forces, even if they may be magical. But we don't stand a chance against the combined force of Morgause and Nimueh."

"And Morgana," Merlin said softly. "With both high priestesses healing her, there is no doubt that she will join the fray tomorrow. I do not fear Morgause and Nimueh as I do Morgana. She is the most powerful."

"But not more powerful than you."

Merlin's lips curled upward. "Yes. Not more powerful than me. However, I'll have to fight her before, during, or after facing Morgause and Nimueh, and that in itself is no realistic task."

"Can you do it?"

"I don't know. I can try."

Arthur nodded, looking at Merlin with his heart in his throat. The dark-haired man was so still, head slightly bowed, the very vision of obedience. Arthur hated it. There was something wrong with the picture before him, something so terribly wrong that it chilled his blood. He knew Merlin was breaking under his stony façade, if he wasn't already broken. The king knew that the only reason the warlock was holding it together was because Arthur needed him to, and the blonde wondered when the time would come when Merlin would not need to make sacrifices for him. A sudden urge to envelop the warlock into an embrace overpowered him, to shelter this man who was more powerful than him, to protect him, help glue his scattered pieces together, but he knew he could not. Merlin didn't need his comfort. He needed no one now, and Arthur understood. So all he did was nod and pat Merlin's arm in an attempt of solidarity, bidding him safety as Merlin left out the door and into the oncoming storm, the calm before the battle at dawn.

The wind was bitter and cold against his skin, icing over his steel armor. Standing alone on the tallest tower, Merlin scanned the city with cool blue eyes. Below him he could see the soldiers, like ants, running this way and that to where they needed to be. Already he could see the blockades rising in every street, blocking off the citadel, all but one entrance. Choking the battle into one small, cramped space was the intelligent thing to do; that way, they could hold the forces off for days, if not weeks. But it also meant that the fighting would be more hand to hand, more brutal, more bloody, heavier in casualties. Merlin knew Gwenivere was among them, sharpening her sword, refusing to travel to the forest and abandon Arthur and his city. Their city, someday, perhaps if they managed to win. The warlock smiled at the thought. They deserved to be happy after so much anger, so much feuding. He knew that a day would come where there would be peace, but when it did, and at what a cost, was unknown to him.

"Emrys."

Merlin whirled around at his name, turning to see a familiar face. The druid who had spoken to him after he had escaped the Mine, the same gray-haired man, unchanged as he stood in bruised armor, held out a long white staff. It twisted like a spiral, long and old.

"It has been a long time," Merlin said softly.

"So you remember me."

"Of course."

The druid smiled, and offered the warlock the staff. "Here, this is my gift to you. It can help amplify your power, it was carved from the wood of an Elder tree, the last one in the world before the Purge burned it root and leaf. I hope it will help you in this time of need."

"Thank you."

"Be careful, Emrys. Do not throw away your life, for if you die Albion will fail, and the lands will burn. But take faith in your strength, for even now you do not fully comprehend the vastness of your powers."

Merlin narrowed his eyes, looking at the older man questioningly. "What do you mean? What have you seen?"

The druid shook his head. "I cannot tell you. Good luck."

With those words he disappeared, vanishing into thin air, leaving behind only a trace of smoke. Merlin looked down at the staff in his hands, caressing the soft, worn wood with careful fingers. He could feel it vibrating in his palms, its power turning his eyes gold and awakening his magic. Merlin smiled.

Turning to the edge of roof, he watched with careful eyes as the darkness began to lift, the stars falling from the sky and giving into a rising sun. It almost blinded him, mounting the edges of the horizon and shedding light on the army that approached the gates, as though traveling through the rays of the sun.

It was time.

Morgause looked up at Camelot, sword in one hand, reins in the other. She guided her white horse forward, the sun behind her, setting her blonde hair alight. Nimueh rode again by her side, face impassive as they rode at the head of their army.

The wind brushed her hair to the side, and with it she could hear a voice. Deep and resonating, the power echoed around her, and Morgause could see her army looking up to the sky warily.

Then, it exploded with a crash and a bang. A great white shield emanated from the citadel and enveloped the city in a dome. Morgause narrowed her eyes at the surface, like clear glass, turning and nodding to Nimueh.

They began to incant a spell, screaming the last words and hurtling a great spear of rippling lightning at the citadel. Electricity lighted up the surface, curling over the smooth surface, but not a crack interrupted the crystal-like facade. Morgause took a deep breath, mouth set in a snarl. Emrys.

"Forward!" the blonde priestess shouted. "Leave none alive. The warlock is ours."

With those words, the army moved forward, passing through the clear spell and into the arms of the defenders.

Merlin wiped the cold sweat from his brow as he surveyed his handwork, smiling at Morgause and Nimueh's failed attempt to break his shield. Filling his lungs, the warlock watched as their army moved into the citadel, and from his perch, Merlin could see the armies colliding in an explosion of smoke, steel, and flashes of light.

Looking up, the dragonlord watched as Kilgarrah descended upon the roof, bending knee and letting Merlin climb onto his back.

Kilgarrah let out a terrible cry and descended into the city, the other dragons, hiding behind the turrets, joining them as they fell in surprise onto the army outside the city.

Billows of flame fell upon the soldiers, setting light to some and turning others to dust. The wind screamed past the warlock's face as he held on tightly to Kigarrah's golden scales, feeling the heat of the fire as it lit around him. When the dragon flew over the gate, Merlin could hear the cheers of the defenders through the din. Emboldened by the arrival of the dragons, Glendale and Camelot's knights pushed the attackers back into the burning field, the battle moving to the icy plain. As the dragons rose into the sky and curled around for a second attack, Merlin caught sight of Morgause and Nimueh just outside the walls, wreaking havoc with their potent magic. Flying in for the second attack, the dragonlord braced himself as they approached the high priestesses.

"NOW, KILGARRAH!" Merlin screamed, and the great dragon let out a wave of flame onto the two women. But when the flames cleared, Morgause and Nimueh were unscathed, Nimueh's shield fading away.

Damn it, it was worth a try, the dragonlord thought grimly, pulling his leg over one side of the dragon and gripping tightly to his staff.

Then, Merlin jumped.

He landed poised and crouched, his descent sending ripples through the earth and leaving a crater in the ground—a great crater that Nimueh and Morgause were a part of.

The priestesses watched as the warlock straightened himself, looking nothing like the tear-stained boy they had found weeping in the throne room. Here was the Emrys they had been warned of, his eyes blue flames as he apprised the two of them, a staff clutched tightly in one hand.

"Where is Morgana?"

"Not here," Morgause snarled.

Merlin didn't have time to dwell on it, steeling himself and holding out his hand. "Astrice!"

Nimueh's blood red lips curled into a smile as she caught the golden light in her hand, circling her pale arm softly as she spoke.

"Your childish tricks are useless against me, Merlin. You may be Emrys, but you are still a young man. I am a priestess of the Old Religion, and I have been serving her since before your mother was born. I killed Igraine Pendragon and survived the pyres of the Purge. Powerful though you may be, you cannot hope to defy me. Forbare!"

A great ball of flame hurtled itself towards him, too fast for him to conjure a shield. Merlin threw himself to the side just in time, the fire (remove 'just') grazing his armor. Crashing to the ground, the warlock quickly got to his feet as Nimueh began to circle him, another globe of flame growing in her palm.

"You too are a creature of the Old Religion. Why you defy us still remains a mystery."

"You think I would join forces with such a cruel and selfish magic?" Merlin seemed to swell with fury, hands tightening on the ivory staff. His lip curled as he hissed, "Never."

Nimueh smiled, eyes lighting. "So be it."

The second ball of flame raced towards him, but this time, Merlin was prepared. Holding out his staff, his eyes burned gold as he conjured a shield, the projectile smashing against it.

Morgause, however, was never one for speaking with those whom she wanted dead.

Crouching to the ground the priestess chanted words and watched as the earth rippled under her command, lashing out at the warlock. Merlin raised the staff as he watched the dirt wave grow in size and sped toward him.

"Ic þe bebiede þæt þu abifest nu."

His earthquake shattered the wave, blasting it into bits as he slammed the staff into the ground. Merlin held out his hand and grasped the pieces in midair, letting them twirl like a twister before sending them like daggers to the sorceresses.

Nimueh dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

"How long are you going to keep playing, Merlin? she taunted as she set a wave of energy towards him, which he brushed to the side with equal contemptuous ease.

"I'm not the one playing," he gasped as he pulled up a shield from a joint attack by the priestesses.

Above them, the clouds were gathering as though sensing the magicians' violent intentions, the world joining in on the energizing magic and rumbling up in the heavens. Merlin avoided the quick projectiles the women were relentlessly sending him, falling to his knees to avoid a fireball that singed his hair. Looking up, eyes burning gold, he sent a wave of blinding-white energy blasting towards them. The priestesses were thrown back, winded as they lay on the ground. The warlock wasted no time, raising his arm and summoning water from the earth beneath his feet. When he had beside him a sizable projectile, Merlin laced it with flame and wind and sent it towards the priestesses.

Nimueh looked up just as it came at her and the priestess leapt in front of Morgause, putting up a shield just in time. The conjured missile shattered against the ward, an implosion that knocked her to her knees. When the fire and smoke faded away, Merlin watched as Nimueh struggled to her feet, bringing Morgause up with her. Both witches looked exhausted, but still began preparing their next fell incantation. Holding hands, they raised their other arms as one and screamed as they arched their backs and propelled the magic from their bodies, sending it at the warlock.

The shield he put up didn't hold.

Merlin was blasted back violently, flying half way across the busy battlefield until he crashed into the icy ground, shouting in agony as the collision broke a few ribs and tore through the flesh in his back, dislocating his shoulder. Lying upon the earth, winded, the warlock looked through the hazy world to the shield he had conjured around the citadel, watching as it began to grow holes that burned and flickered like his magic when he was broken.

Morgause and Nimueh appeared in front of him, hands raised towards his prone form. It gladdened him to see that the attack that had breached his defenses had affected them, too. Both priestesses looking haggard, wearied, but not entirely depleted. They sent fire towards him, and Merlin rolled to the side to avoid it, struggling to his feet. He could feel his magic surging through his veins, and Merlin turned to the tumbling clouds above him, staring up at their dark depths. Brow furrowed, he raised the staff in the air, stretching his broken side, his dislocated arm hanging uselessly like a tattered banner on a windless day. His eyes burned gold, and with a cry, he pulled a bolt of electric energy from the tremulous heavens. The lightening hit the staff, the energy running through his body and singing his nerves, inflaming his being in a moment of pure agony until he threw it toward the priestesses.

There was nowhere to hide.

Nimueh pushed Morgause away and stood in her place, the lightening hitting her square in the chest. Her scream sent earthquakes running through the battlefield, knocking hundreds of men to the ground. The electricity raced through her blood, singing every atom of her being until her body could take no more, and her magic let out its own wail of agony. Nimueh's head bent back at an unnatural angle, mouth wide open in a consistent shout of terrible pain as the lightening tore her apart. Her flesh melted from her bones, and when the electricity finally sated itself on her blood, all that was left of the priestess was an unrecognizable husk, blackened and smoking, a few red rags identifying it.

Morgause looked up from where she was lying on the ground, mouth and eyes wide open with shock as she stared at what was once Nimueh. Shaking her head in disbelief, she covered her mouth to try to stop the ragged cry that tore from her throat, eyes watering. She reached out towards the blackened husk, shaking.

Merlin seized the opportunity to take a rejuvenating breath. When finally the world stopped spinning, he raised his staff once more, pointing it at Morgause.

As he breathed out to say the spell, his words turned to mist, rising in the air. The temperature dropped tens of degrees, the frigid cold raising the hairs at the back of his neck. Merlin closed his eyes.

She was here.

Some say the world will end in fire, Morgana mused as she looked upon the burning battlefield and smoldering city. Flames licked the sky, and dragons that bellowed out heat flew and crushed the armies before her. The scarlet cloaks of Camelot's men were easy to catch, bright even against the ginger flames. Tiny fires licked the earth, as far as the eyes could see.

Morgana reached her hand towards the already battling heavens, the gray clouds turning indigo as they finally managed to mute the light of the sun that once shone through the raging storm. Now there was only darkness, and fire, daylight a long forgotten dream.

Tendrils of frost emerged from beneath her feet, reaching in quiet whispers across the plains and to the fighting armies until they began to crawl over the walls of Camelot. The reinforcements she brought with her began to walk steadily forward, crunching through a newly forming blanket of snow that preceded them. Large wolves howled into the night, leading the procession, and soldiers watching on got goosebumps not only from the cold.

The angry clouds above her calmed, snow beginning to fall from their swollen bellies, and, eyes glowing gold, the high priestess reached her hand towards the sky. Commanding with a string of foreign words, the heavens began to obey her. Power threaded through her body, a burst of euphoria in the dark. Once again they began to thunder, dropping ice onto the army before her, both her friends and her foes. Morgana didn't care who the ice speared. Lightening crackled, falling upon the mass of soldiers, upon the citadel, breaking through the spotted shield and taking chunks out of the marble-white citadel. Morgana looked up, eyes burning gold, snapping her fingers.

Every flame before her went out.

A gust of frigid wind howled, turning her hair into a raven halo. The wolves snarled.

Then silence.

Some say the world will end in fire,Morgana mused, No. It will not. The world will end in ice.

Arthur looked to the horizon, heart plummeting as he saw hundreds of fresh enemy regiments riding towards them. The frigid cold froze the sweat on his skin and made it difficult to breathe, the darkness consuming the once flaming battlefield. Above him he could hear the dragons roaring until they finally landed upon the ground, crouching between the bulk of the defender's army and the enemies that fled back to regroup with Morgana and her men. Wolves the size of horses, howling and snarling, padded quietly forward, and the king could have sworn that he could see wicked smiles upon their great heads as they took in the sight of the dragons.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur screamed, as loud as he could, clear voice echoing through the suddenly silent plain.

"FOR ALBION!"

A chorus of voice rose to meet to him, and the armies leapt forward, clashing together like lightening.

Merlin smiled at Arthur's voice, turning his attention back the priestess before him. Morgause was getting to her feet, shakily, but a fury rippled off her body as he appraised him.

"You will die this day."

"I don't think so." With that, Merlin sent a wave of energy towards her, blasting the weakened woman meters away. He limped to her side, standing over her, hand outstretched. For the first time in a long while, he could taste sweet victory on his tongue.

Then he was violently thrown against the marbled wall of Camelot's citadel.

Merlin let out a scream as his body met the jagged stone, a broken shard that jutted from the surface ripping his armor and shredding the flesh on his thigh. Sliding limply down to the scorched earth, he landed face down, and lay there, shuddering. Only after several moments did Merlin prop himself up on shaking arms, and pull himself up to his hands and knees, the icy snow biting at the bare flesh of his palms.

Just as he moved to rise, a sharp kick to the face jerked his head back, and he fell again into the snow. A sharp foot pressed into the small of his back, keeping the sorcerer down.

"You betrayed me," she hissed.

"You betrayed us."

"You killed Nimueh."

"You started this war."

"And I will end it," Morgana reached down and lifted him from the collar of his shirt so that he knelt on his knees before her, face bleeding, head hanging. She pulled back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. Once. Twice. Three times. Merlin lost count.

But he couldn't retaliate.

Breathing was difficult, a sharp pain in his chest informing him that several of his ribs were broken, and his magic was finally bowing down to the pressure. Through the haze, Merlin felt cold iron brace itself against his neck. Looking up with swollen eyes, the warlock finally looked at her.

Morgana was cold, her jade eyes like ice, red lips faded like winter's leaves. Her skin was so pale, her hair black as midnight, tangled and terrible. Dark circles riddled her eyes. There was no pity left in them, no love.

Merlin felt hope slip away to seek shelter elsewhere, abandoning him to his fate.

But fate, it would seem, would not be so fickle.

"Step away from him."

"No," Merlin choked as Morgana turned, hand letting go of his collar, the warlock falling back to the ground in a heap. A smirk blossomed on her marble features.

The priestess appraised the woman before her, Gwenivere doing the same. Wearing gilded armor and wielding a bloody sword, strands of dark brown hair falling from the braid that once held it, the queen was almost recognizable. But whatever fear lingered in her chestnut eyes didn't show on her determined façade, every so often casting looks at her fallen friend.

Without warning, Morgana leapt into attack.

Their blades met, the sound ringing through the din, Morgana's strength jarring Gwen's hands. The queen was sent backwards as she desperately tried to hold back Morgana's blows.

"What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

"It's not what you've done but what you are destined to do. I'm sorry Gwen, but I can't let that happen."

Morgana twirled her sword around Gwen's blade, the queen's sword flying through the air. Her arms widened as the sorceress's steel balanced before her breast. After a moment, she wrenched her hand back, preparing to run the blade through the caramel-skinned woman's heart.

But she was blasted back before she could do such a thing.

Merlin strode forward on shaking feet, blood running down his dirtied features, his staff—more of a walking stick than a weapon—in his working hand. Just as he prepared to face Morgana, he was stopped by a sharp pain in his back.

His magic retaliated, and with a cry it blasted from his body, the earth shaking. Turning around weakly, Merlin watched as Morgause crashed against the wall of the citadel, the scream that she let out stopping as her neck snapped at the collision, broken body leaving a trail of blood as it slid down the white wall.

"No!" Morgana shrieked, the wind suddenly howling around them so powerfully that soldiers were pulled from their feet and sent flying. Merlin's eyes burned gold, and with a snap of his fingers, the furious wind died as swiftly as it had come, leaving them in eerie silence.

Merlin looked up at Morgana, tears falling from her jade eyes in both agony and despair.

"You don't have to do this," the warlock said softly, looking up at her.

"I do," Morgana replied, khol lined eyes burning with fury.

"Please, after everything we've been through together."

"It means nothing anymore. You made that quite clear."

"You betrayed me. You had me tortured and locked in a dungeon," Merlin spat.

"If you hate me so much, then, why are you here?" the priestess challenged. "Why not kill me and stop trying to reason?"

"Because I still love you. "

"But I don't love you."

"You're lying."

"ENOUGH. The time for useless words is over," Morgana walked forward, eyes lighting gold.

The warlock sighed, but his stance stiffened. "What? You'd prefer me to try and kill you?"

"Oh no, you won't kill me, but that doesn't mean I won't kill you."

"Don't do this. Don't make me do this," Merlin begged, one final plea.

"Good bye," Morgana whispered. "You are nothing to me anymore."

With that, she sent a wave of fire towards him, and Merlin braced himself for what was sure to be their final battle.

The warlock deftly captured the flames, smothering them with a softly spoken spell. Holding out his staff, he directed a bolt of lightning to his former lover. Morgana sidestepped, avoiding his offensive. And so the battle went in a manner such as that, bursts of energy and fire and water and ice and lightening, a swift dance of rapid spells and shields, of turning and spinning and ducking that spelled death and illuminated the darkness. The armies struggled, killing and maiming as Morgana's forces tried to enter the citadel and Arthur's forces tried to push them back. It was a stand-still, neither side advancing, hundreds falling. The passage of time was lost in darkness and sound and blood, flames and lightening the only brightness before the citadel.

And then, all of a sudden, the tide of war turned.

With Morgause and Nimueh dead, Merlin and Morgana busy unleashing their fury in a collision of power that matched that of the gods, the soldiers fought their own war, unhindered by the awesome powers that always wrote the fate of the day. Arthur and Gwen's forces pushed the enemies from the citadel, shoving them away from the city and into the barren field.

Merlin and Morgana did not notice, too consumed in their own private war, the magic that they brushed off reaping casualties in such a way that they were given a wide berth of space. The warlock fell to the ground as he avoided her most recent bout of energy, an idea lighting his weakened mind. Whispering a spell under his breath as he got to his feet, he raised his arms and head towards the snowing skies, golden eyes burning ever brighter, ripping from his slim and broken form a power he hadn't thought himself capable of.

"Ic her accigie ænne windraes! Færblæd waw! Windræs ungetermed: ge hier! Ic de bebeod mid ealle strangesse daet du geblawest ond syrmest strange! Gespurn peos haegtesse!"

Great whirlwinds descended from the sky, twisting madly and approaching Morgana, nothing slowing them. Any spells she tried to call out were in vain, and when the winds finally fell upon her, there was nowhere to run. She was pulled into the icy gusts, taken up into the air where she was held while the wind battered and broke her bones. When at last they threw her from their wicked embrace, Morgana fell to the earth with such speed and power that the ground gave way to her form, ripping a harsh scream from her lips.

Merlin stumbled towards her, trying to ignore the exhaustion that weakened him as his magic dwindled away. The once pristine shield that protected the city now fell, the magic ripping and peeling and breaking away from the surface, floating down like ash upon the battlefield. Staggering before her, Merlin finally reached her side, looking down upon her broken form.

A trickle of blood fell from her lips, ivory skin marred with scarlet, her chest heaving, green eyes glazed with pain. Morgana met his gaze, their eyes meeting as he raised his hand above her, all in silence.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Do it. My destiny and my doom, it was written before we were born. So go on, listen to Lady Fate. Let me die by your hand and follow the destiny that you have clung to so tightly."

Merlin clenched his jaw, mind racing. Around him he could hear the sound of the fight dying down, Morgana's forces scattering and disappearing into the woods, Albion's forces quickly disposing of those who still fought, disarming those who surrendered. He knew the spell. It was at the tip of his tongue, simple, quick. Painless.

The warlock stepped back, whistling, the sound clear and low, carrying on the wind.

A white horse, flank covered in the blood of its previous owner, trotted towards the pair. It went to stand before Morgana. Another whistle bade it to lay down, and it obeyed

Eyes not leaving Merlin's, the priestess rolled over, arm reaching over the stallion's back. With painful gasps of breath, Morgana managed to pull herself into the saddle, leaning heavily forward. After a few muttered words, the steed heaved itself back to its feet.

"Go," Merlin cried out, his voice ripping out of his torn throat. To his horror he could feel tears warming his eyes as he looked up at her. "Leave. If you ever attack Camelot again, I will kill you. "

Morgana's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly straightened her back and the jade turned to ice once more. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but no words came out. With one final look at him, the priestess pushed the horse forward and the two galloped away, out of sight.

And like that, Morgana was gone. So sudden, without a fanfare. Simply gone. And somehow, they had won. Victory was theirs, yet the feeling it normally brought didn't warm his heart. He simply felt cold and numb and empty, stretched and tired and weak.

The warlock let out a ragged breath, leaning heavily on his staff. He closed his eyes, exhaustion numbing the pain of his battered body.

"Merlin?"

Turning slowly, the sorcerer watched as Arthur approached him, sword sheathed, armor smattered with scarlet.

"Gwen?"

"She's all right. A few cuts, but she will be fine."

Arthur walked towards him, hesitating as Merlin stiffened. "Let me help you."

After a moments silence, Merlin relaxed. His friend reached over, putting a hand under his shoulder and allowing the warlock to lean against his strong frame. When the warlock winced, Arthur looked to his back, eyes widening at the blood. Gingerly, he pulled off his glove and touched the man's lower back, fingers coming back stained red.

"What is it?' Merlin hissed through his clenched teeth.

"A stab wound," Arthur replied, not bothering to lie to him.

The warlock nodded. "Morgause."

With the name his body sagged, pulling down Arthur with him. The king gently pulled the warlock into his arms, hands ghosting over the bloodied and broken body.

"MEDIC!" he screamed. "SOMEBODY HELP US!"

"I let her go," Merlin whispered, looking up unseeingly into the sky. "I let her go. I couldn't kill her."

"Stay still," Arthur croaked as the warlock shifted.

"I know she'll come back, I'll know I'll pay for it, you'll pay for it, Albion will pay for it, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. How could I still love her after all this, even after she hates me? I'm such a fool. I'm so sorry, Arthur, I could have ended this war once and for all, but I wasn't strong enough. I'm so sorry…"

"No, don't say that," the king replied, looking around wildly for any help, then screaming out again.

The warlock ignored him, a small tear leaking from his clouded blue eyes. "I wish she was here. She's always here. Where is she? I need her here with me. Morgana…"

"Come on," Arthur shook the man's shoulders. "Stay with me, old friend…"

Arthur's voice faded away into silence, with it the sound of the battle and the world around him, and Merlin's vision darkened. In the oncoming gloom, the warlock could have sworn he felt a familiar hand caressing his cheek, gentle and loving. He could have sworn he saw a pair of bright green eyes looking upon his face, ruby lips pressing against his consolingly,their touch comforting and soft.

With a soft smile on his lips, Merlin closed his eyes.

(puts hands in the air) Shall Merlin live? Shall Merlin die? What will happen to our tragic lovers? Hmmmm I wonder...

(as always, reviews are brilliant and they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, compliments and criticism remind me people actually read this story which I have forged with my sweat, tears, and blood, and make the writing process easier! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE SILENT READERS! Don't worry, my bark is worse than my bite!)

HAVE A LOVELY DAY! SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!

-ladywarlock