As you probably expected after the way the previous chapter ended, this one contains a lot of angst…and some setup for the sequel now that this story is finally winding down.

In a matter of hours, life in Camelot's capital city was completely back to normal – for most people. For Bo's friends, it was as if a dark cloud had descended over them, leaving them inconsolable while everyone else rejoiced that yet another evil sorceress' nefarious scheme had been thwarted.

Uther eventually woke up and crawled out from under the remains of his throne, and though he was initially rather irate at the realization that he had lain there for several hours – hours in which no one seemed to have missed him, or even noticed his absence – his ire cooled when he heard what had befallen Bo (though of course Gaius fudged the details of how she had ended up as both the final host and victim of Morgause's curse).

"She truly was the finest of all of us," Uther said solemnly, bowing his head in a gesture of respect and sorrow. "Her sacrifice will never be forgotten, and her memory will be honored in Camelot for all time."

Morgana let out a strangled sob and ran out of the infirmary; although she was glad that Uther was giving Bo the praise she so richly deserved, she couldn't bear to hear him talk about her like she was already dead.

Uther watched her go with a slight frown – luckily, the blow to his head had caused him to forget anything he might have seen in his brief moment of consciousness, so he blamed Morgause for wrecking the throne room. It wasn't suspicion that brought that frown to his face, but concern for her emotional state. He understood why she was distraught over her paramour's tragic fate, but it wouldn't do for her to be seen grieving more than befit the loss of a close friend.

He would give her a few days to come to terms with the situation, he decided, before addressing the matter…and in the meantime, he would write another letter to Bayard.

###

Lancelot and Leon returned to the city two days later, having secured transport in a farmer's wagon. When Leon was carried to the infirmary so Gaius could examine his leg and ensure that the village healer's treatment was satisfactory, he was sincerely sorry to find Bo there, especially when he learned that her condition was irreversible…yet Merlin and Morgana, who were sitting by her bedside as they had almost every minute since Gaius delivered his grim prognosis, thought they also detected a well-hidden note of relief that the wedding was off.

Lancelot stayed just long enough to offer his own condolences before rushing off to find Kenzi, who was curiously absent. He tried her chambers first, though he wondered if he'd chosen wrong when his knock received no reply. A long moment later, however, he heard the sounds of slow, shuffling movement from within, and at last the door opened.

"My lady…" Even though he knew it was rude to stare, he couldn't hide his shock at Kenzi's appearance. For the first time since he'd met her, her face was utterly devoid of makeup – which didn't detract from her beauty to any degree, though the tear streaks, bloodshot eyes, and expression of utter dejection did, just a little – she hadn't done anything interesting with her hair (nor even brushed it, apparently), and her white and gold dress was badly wrinkled.

"You heard about Bo?"

Too dismayed to speak, Lancelot nodded. Kenzi sniffled and lunged forward, throwing her arms around him. As he returned her embrace, a small part of his mind couldn't help noticing that holding her felt quite nice – no, more than that, it felt right – but he pushed those thoughts away; whatever feelings he might be developing for her weren't important at the moment. Right now, all that mattered was that she was in pain, and he wanted to give her whatever comfort he could.

At length, he found his voice and ventured to say, "I can't imagine how devastating this must be, knowing how important Bo is to you… That's why I was surprised not to find you in the infirmary."

"I would be," Kenzi answered with a slightly huffy sigh as she released her hold on him, "except that Morgana's there. I know it's not fair to blame her – she didn't cast the damn spell, Morgause tricked her into being a human battery, she loves Bo too much to ever hurt her on purpose…blah, blah, blah – it's just that every time I see her I have to fight this burning urge to bitch-slap her. Which I can't do because she already looks so much like a sad little puppy-dog that piling any more on her would practically be animal cruelty, and I know I'm not perfect but I am not a puppy kicker."

"It's only natural to want to lash out," Lancelot said understandingly, "to bury your sadness in anger so it won't hurt as much. It doesn't make you a bad person, though I'm glad you're willing to restrain yourself." Having seen for himself how grief-stricken Morgana was, he agreed with Kenzi's assessment that she couldn't withstand harsh treatment at present. "It takes true strength of character not to give in to your worst impulses at a time like this."

"Thanks." Despite the numbing pall of sadness and dread that had fallen over her, deadening every other emotion, getting a compliment from him still made her heart flutter just a little. "I know taking it out on her wouldn't solve anything; hell, it wouldn't even really make me feel better, because Bo would still be…" Her breath suddenly caught in her throat, choking off her words midsentence. "I just don't know what I'll do without her," she gasped out. "She's not even gone yet and already I can't breathe, I can't…"

Putting an arm around her shoulders, he guided her to the nearest comfortable surface that was big enough for them to sit side by side, which happened to be the bed. "It'll be all right, Kenzi," he murmured while rubbing her back soothingly. "Whatever happens, you're strong enough to get through it."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to lose her," she sniffled, pressing her face into his shoulder. "So much of who I am today is because of her… Thanks for saying it, though. You're a good friend, Lance."

She said nothing more after that, just leaned into him, and he maintained his own silence, lost in his thoughts. He should have been glad to hear that she considered him a good friend…but as he held her close and stroked her hair, and as the warm feeling that her presence ignited in his chest slowly yet steadily grew into a flame too strong to ignore, forcing him to finally confront the thoughts that had been hovering at the edges of his mind since his conversation with Bo on the way to Idirsholas, it gradually dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, he truly did want to be more.

###

Lancelot accompanied Kenzi to visit Bo later that evening, after Merlin and Gwen had dragged Morgana upstairs for dinner, both insisting that Bo wouldn't want her to spend all her time pining away beside her cot. Unfortunately, the change of scenery made no difference; Morgana was every bit as despondent in her chambers as in the infirmary, just as she had been for the last two days, and nothing anyone said seemed to help.

Ironically, Uther was the only one who'd succeeded in pulling her out of her deep despair and its attendant apathy, however briefly – not because she took comfort in his assurances that he'd decided to proceed with her betrothal to Urien and that she would forget her youthful infatuation with Bo once she'd assumed her proper place in society, with a husband and, eventually, children to occupy her, of course, but she did become very animated for a little while as she shouted at him. As soon as Uther retreated, however, she quickly lapsed back into near-catatonic depression.

When Merlin returned from serving Arthur his dinner, he found Morgana poking listlessly at hers. Gwen shook her head in response to his unasked question, indicating that none of the food had actually made it into her mistress' mouth.

"Thanks for trying, Gwen," he sighed, giving her a grateful pat on the shoulder. "You might as well go home now; I'll stay with her."

She placed her hand over his, squeezing gently. "Maybe you'll have better luck," she said softly. "I hope so, anyway." She left the rest unspoken – that if Morgana didn't start eating soon, it wouldn't be long before her health suffered – though the worried look in her dark eyes said it all. Then she left, and Merlin took a seat at the small, square table, angling his chair toward Morgana's.

It seemed to take her a moment to register his presence, but at last she looked up at him, blinking as if surprised to see him there. "Shouldn't you be with Bo?" she inquired softly, her voice hoarse from crying.

"Gaius can take care of her for a while, and Lancelot said he and Kenzi would help out too; right now it's you I'm worried about. Gwen says you've barely eaten anything all day, and you're obviously not sleeping either."

Morgana looked away, lowering her head so that her hair fell forward like a curtain between them, hiding the telltale shadows under her eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"You won't help Bo by starving yourself."

This blunt statement caused her head to pop up again; she was taken aback that Merlin would say something so insensitive, but when their eyes met and she saw the profound worry, almost bordering on fear, in his, she understood that it was only his concern for her that drove him to speak so plainly.

"I know it's hard," he went on, his voice growing rougher as his eyes misted over. "I miss her too, every minute of every day, and I don't know what I'll do if…" He trailed off, unable to say aloud what they were both thinking, then reined in his emotions with an obvious effort and pressed on. "But she'd hate to see what you're doing to yourself, you know that. Please, Morgana…just try a few bites. If not for me, for her."

His entreaty brought on a fresh wave of tears, because she knew he was right; no matter what she did, it seemed she was always letting Bo down – letting both of them down. Nodding wordlessly, she picked up her fork and jabbed it into whatever was on her plate. Her vision was too blurry for her to identify the foods in front of her, and they all tasted like ashes in her mouth, but she managed to force down three or four bites before her stomach rebelled, its painful clenching warning her that it wouldn't tolerate any more. "I'm sorry; I think that's all I can handle just now."

Merlin cast a disappointed look at her almost full plate but, recognizing that she had done her best, decided not to force the issue. "Let's get you to bed, then." Standing up, he offered her his hand, which she took, allowing him to pull her to her feet even though she didn't particularly want to move.

He undid the fastenings on her dress that she couldn't reach by herself, then stepped out from behind the screen to let her finish changing privately. When she was dressed in her nightgown, she emerged to find him at the window, staring out into the night.

"Merlin?" He didn't respond, so she walked up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Merlin?"

He slowly turned toward her, and she was astounded to see tears streaming down his face; they had appeared in his eyes several times over the past two days, but he'd always held them back. Now he hastily tried to wipe them away, muttering, "Sorry."

"Don't be. You have every right to be sad, Merlin; you've loved Bo longer than I have, and you were happy with her before I got involved. It would've been better if I hadn't – all I've done is hurt her, and now I've taken her away from you too…"

"You're wrong," Merlin argued. "I love you just as much as I love her, I don't regret anything, and I know she wouldn't either. None of this is your fault, even if you're the only one who can't see that-"

"Not the only one," she countered, "or haven't you noticed how Kenzi can't even stand to be in the same room with me? She hates me…as well she should."

"She doesn't hate you, she's just hurting like you are, like we all are, and I've tried to be strong for you and her and Bo and everybody even though I'm just as afraid of losing Bo as any of you…but now it feels like I'm losing you too, and I can't… I need you, Morgana."

"You aren't losing me. I'm right here," she tried to assure him, but he shook his head.

"No, you're not! I mean, you are, but you're not really here – you're not yourself anymore. You walk around like you're in a trance, you don't sleep, you hardly eat or say a word to anyone, and if you carry on like this…" He paused, wondering if it was unfair to burden her with his fears, but he couldn't keep them bottled up any longer. "I'm afraid you'll waste away just like Bo, and I can't watch that happen to both of you."

"Oh, Merlin… I'm so sorry." She had been so consumed with her own guilt and grief, and he had hidden his feelings so well while trying to take care of everyone else, that she hadn't realized how much pain he was in, which only made her feel worse. As if it wasn't bad enough that she had cost Bo her life and caused Merlin to lose her, she had also left him to suffer alone.

Even though it felt like a paltry gesture, she moved closer and embraced him, hoping (perhaps foolishly) that she could make him feel better now, even if only by a tiny fraction…and, to her surprise, it seemed to work. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her in until her body was flush against his, and a faint spark of hope lit up his eyes just before he lowered his head and kissed her.

When their lips met, it was as if something inside her came back to life, making her gasp and clutch at his shoulders as she kissed him back with more fervor than she would have imagined she was still capable of…yet there was something bittersweet about it, something missing, as if they were two broken shards that, when placed side by side, almost came together to reform what they had been before, but not completely.

As their kiss deepened, both of them desperately seeking the solace they could only find in each other, Morgana wondered if they would ever really be whole again.

###

Merlin decided to stay with her that night, which Morgana was grateful for; she had rebuffed Gwen's offers to keep her company, knowing it wouldn't be fair to keep her maid awake with her tossing and turning, but she couldn't deny that it was a relief not to have to face another night alone. Even with Merlin holding her, though, the same thoughts that haunted her during the day continued to torment her – memories of that fateful moment when she uttered the word that allowed Morgause to use her as the spell's vessel, of Bo fainting in the throne room, of Morgause and Gaius both reaching the same conclusion that she was beyond help all played out constantly in her head, reminding her of her unforgivable failure with every repetition.

Sometimes there was a little variation, but it was never welcome, because any short reprieve from the endless loop of painful recollections was instead filled with scenes from the future, glimpses of the dreaded moment when Bo actually breathed her last and the eternity of despair and desolation that would follow. These were the nightmares that inevitably brought Morgana awake, screaming and sobbing, whenever she managed to fall asleep and made her increasingly reluctant to try again; she didn't know whether they were merely a product of her imagination, the embodiment of the fears her waking mind refused to dwell on, or visions of a future that couldn't be avoided, and rather than endure them night after night, she preferred not to sleep at all. She didn't explain this to Merlin, though, because if the images that kept her awake were visions, there was no reason to make him live through that horrible future sooner than he had to.

Despite promising himself that he wouldn't sleep until she did, Merlin eventually lost the battle against his exhaustion – providing the constant care Bo required on top of his other duties was no easy feat, after all, even with Gwen pitching in where she could and Arthur doing his best not to be quite as demanding as usual (Gaius also helped to care for Bo, of course, but he still had to see to the medical needs of all the city's inhabitants, which placed significant demands on his time and energy) – but Morgana stubbornly held her eyes wide open, determined not to let her mind drift into the dark places it invariably visited when she slept or disturb Merlin when he finally got a chance to rest.

Still, the feeling of his arms around her was incredibly soothing, as was the slow rise and fall of his chest, which was a much more comfortable place to rest her head than her pillow… Before she knew it, she had slipped into the hazy place between waking and sleeping, even as the part of her mind that was still alert warned her not to give in.

It was in this dreamlike state that she heard it: a faint, faraway whisper, like a barely perceptible breeze on her face, except it was inside her head. Morgana…

She thought she recognized the voice and knew she should respond, but her half-asleep mind couldn't seem to put together a coherent thought.

Then the voice came again, louder and stronger this time. Morgana, wake up!

Her eyelids, which had fallen halfway shut, shot open as she lifted her head to peer around the darkened room – an instinctive yet pointless reaction, because she was now certain she knew who was speaking to her, and he definitely wasn't in her bedchamber. Kilgharrah? she asked hesitantly, astonished that the dragon had chosen to communicate with her when he had never done so before, but her shock was soon overshadowed by suspicion. What do you want?

I want the same thing as you, witch – to save Isabeau, the dragon's slyly insinuating voice answered. Come to me, and I will tell you how it may be done.

Morgana's heart pounded so hard she was afraid Merlin would feel it where he lay beside her, but she knew better than to take anything the manipulative monster said at face value. And who will you try to trick me into sacrificing in her place, she demanded bitterly, what concessions will you wring from me in return? I'm not gullible enough to believe you'd help me out of the goodness of your heart, if you have one!

Perhaps not, he acknowledged in a moment of surprising honesty, but does your distrust of me truly run so deep that you would throw away a chance at saving the woman you love?

The question made Morgana clench her teeth so hard it hurt, because he was right; even though she loathed him with every fiber of her being, if he could offer her even the slimmest, most wildly improbable possibility of curing Bo, she had no choice but to hear him out. Taking care not to wake Merlin, she gently disentangled herself from him and slid out of bed, thrusting her feet into her fleece-lined slippers. She considered getting out a cloak, but decided the squeaky wardrobe door posed too big a risk. Easing the door to her chambers open just enough for her to slip out, she set out for the cave where her unlikely potential savior dwelled.

###

By the time she reached Kilgharrah's subterranean prison, Morgana regretted her decision to forego a cloak; it was very chilly down there in the bowels of the earth, and her diaphanous nightgown offered little protection.

"You should have covered yourself better," the dragon said by way of greeting, taking note of her chattering teeth and the shivers that racked her slender frame as she rubbed her arms in a futile attempt to warm up. "Since you did not, I suggest you use your magic to warm yourself. It will do no good for you to freeze."

Morgana glared at him but followed his suggestion, conjuring a fire on the bare rock beside her. Its warmth engulfed her, providing immediate relief which she took a moment to savor before answering him. "Wouldn't it? I thought you wanted me dead. You certainly tried hard enough to convince Merlin to kill me," she said acerbically.

"You would not have died, witch. If Merlin had heeded my advice, he would have poisoned you with hemlock, but Morgause would have taken you away from Camelot and healed you. That was the future I foresaw…however, my visions failed to account for Isabeau's interference." The dragon paused, tilting his enormous head thoughtfully. "I believe I saw what would have come to pass had she not been returned to the time where she belongs, for ever since her arrival, many things have transpired differently than I anticipated. Were it not for her, Merlin would not have found the courage to reveal his magic to Arthur-"

"And I wouldn't have overheard them talking about it," Morgana finished. "Would he ever have told me of his own volition?"

"He would not," Kilgharrah stated frankly. "He wanted to when the first manifestation of your powers occurred, but his caution won out, as it would have continued to do without Isabeau's influence."

"So I wouldn't have been able to confide in him like I have, or Arthur or Gwen, and then Morgause would have taken me away after Merlin poisoned me… I assume that's when you expected me to become an enemy of Camelot?"

"Very astute, witch – but I never doubted your intelligence, only your loyalty and moral rectitude. Yes, you would have spent a year under your sister's tutelage, only to return full of distrust and resentment for those you once counted as friends and allies. Eventually you would have helped Morgause usurp Uther's throne, before Merlin and Arthur defeated your forces, mortally wounded your sister, and cast you out."

Despite the heat of the towering fire at her side, Morgana shuddered again as she imagined living the future he described – never knowing Bo, never experiencing the love she'd found with her and Merlin, losing the bonds she shared with Gwen and Arthur…and according to Kilgharrah, all she would have gotten in return was the lonely life of an exile, without even Morgause to keep her company if she was to have died.

"That sounds like a truly wretched existence – one you tried to force on me by discouraging Merlin from trusting me in an attempt to deprive me of any sense of camaraderie or belonging with a fellow sorcerer and leave me isolated, easy prey for people like Morgause and Alvarr," she observed, though with less acid in her voice than there had been earlier. "I would ask what I ever did to earn your hatred, that you wished to see me suffer so, but it hardly matters now. If Bo dies, I assure you I'll be just as miserable as I would have been in the future you envisioned."

"It was not your misery I desired," Kilgharrah replied, almost dismissively. "Your betrayal would have broken Uther's heart and his mind, reduced him to a shell of himself. I confess I would have liked to see that fate visited upon him."

The malicious gleam in his eyes sent another shiver through her, not least because she understood how he felt. She hadn't suffered at Uther's hands nearly as long or as cruelly as he had, yet she had to admit that the picture he painted held a certain dark allure… Still, she quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

"So I was just a pawn to you," she concluded succinctly. "Since you're now speaking to me so openly, I suppose you've found another use for me, now that you see I won't serve as the instrument of your revenge?"

"That remains to be seen," the dragon replied in his usual cryptic fashion, "but yes, I have altered my plans in response to recent events."

"And those plans involve saving Bo?" she prodded, eager to get back to the reason she'd come down here in the first place.

He nodded. "Your options are limited, as you know; Merlin could attempt to harness the power that lies at the very heart of the Old Religion, the power of life and death, as he did once before, but that magic requires balance – to save her life, another must be taken."

"I know that," Morgana said impatiently. "So does Merlin, or he would have done it already."

Kilgharrah brushed off her interjection with a slight twitch of his long neck, but otherwise showed no sign of annoyance as he continued. "There is, however, one person who has the power to lift the curse from her without such constraints, who can literally rewrite her destiny: the Blood King."

"'Blood King'?" Morgana repeated. "That sounds…ominous."

"He is so called because blood is the source of his power; whatever he writes in his own blood will come to pass, however long it may take or how unlikely it seems. Still, your trepidation is well-founded. He is not one to trifle with, and if you are unwise enough to make an enemy of him, his vengeance is terrible indeed."

Something in his voice caught her attention, and her eyes widened as she pinpointed what it was. "You're afraid of him," she said wonderingly, and not a little apprehensively. What sort of person could scare a dragon?

Kilgharrah's nostrils flared with indignation, yet he didn't try to deny it. "With good reason. Nearly four hundred years ago, the underfae- I suppose you know what underfae are?"

"I've been told that repulsive troll who briefly became Camelot's queen was one," Morgana replied with a grimace.

"Trolls are only one breed of underfae; the label is applied to any creature of magic whose appearance is so markedly different from that of humans that they cannot move among them undetected-"

"That would make you one as well, wouldn't it?"

"In a manner of speaking, although underfae are considered to be less clever and more savage than their more highly evolved cousins, whereas we dragons have always been set apart by our superior intellect and formidable magic," Kilgharrah rather proudly explained. "Because they are seen as lesser creatures, underfae are often oppressed by their kin, treated as beasts to be contained or exterminated – which, in fairness, is what most of them are. Still, four hundred years ago, a few of the more intelligent underfae races banded together and rose up against the true fae in a bid to gain equal standing amongst our kind. I sympathized with their plight, and so, at my urging, the dragons fought on their side. The Blood King was incensed; he cursed me for my defiance, writing that I would see my kindred perish at the hands of a lowly mortal while I alone survived as this mortal's prisoner to witness the last days of my noble breed…but I, in my prideful foolishness, laughed at his malediction, thinking that not even his power could bring about what I saw as the wildest, most fanciful impossibility…"

He paused to scoff at his own unbelievable arrogance, blowing twin plumes of smoke into the air as he did, which gave Morgana time to process his tale.

"Are you saying that you believe this Blood King had a hand in bringing about your current situation?"

"Of course he did – how else do you imagine a mere human like Uther was able to kill even one dragon, let alone every one save myself? Oh, it took centuries for the curse to come to fruition, and there were others who played more direct parts, yet I sensed his hand in shaping the confluence of events that led me here."

"If that's true, he must be very powerful," Morgana mused, "but how can I persuade him to help Bo?"

"The fact that she is his granddaughter should be inducement enough," Kilgharrah said casually, ignoring Morgana's gasp. "He has spent years searching for her, and I hope that by delivering her to him, I may earn his forgiveness at last."

As soon as she heard those words, Morgana's amazement and the flash of hope she'd allowed herself to feel soured faster than milk left in the sun on a hot afternoon. "There it is – I knew you wouldn't offer to help us unless it benefited you. So you expect me to set you free, then let you fly off to Goddess knows where with Bo, is that it?"

"No, I do not expect you to free me; only Merlin is powerful enough to do that, nor do I intend to make the journey alone, as I cannot care for the princess in her current state. You and Merlin may accompany her, but you will need my help. After all, you do not know where the Blood King's stronghold is located or how to find it, do you?"

Morgana frowned at the realization that she had indeed overlooked that small detail. "All right, where is it?" She didn't actually expect him to tell her, since his leverage would be greatly reduced if she could find it without him, but to her surprise, he did.

"The Blood King's domain lies at the farthest end of Albion, beyond the Perilous Lands."

"Beyond the Perilous Lands? Impossible," Morgana scoffed. "There is nothing in the far reaches of Albion but barren wasteland no ruler has ever bothered to claim."

"That is an illusion, one of many enchantments crafted by the king's own hand or at his command to prevent humans from encroaching on his territory, which is why you need me. You cannot hope to reach the Blood King without me, certainly not in time to save Isabeau; the distance alone is too great, even on your fastest horse."

Morgana gave him a look reminiscent of someone who'd just been force-fed a whole lemon, then lowered her eyes to the ground, chewing her tongue as she thought furiously. If this lost kingdom Kilgharrah described truly was beyond the reach of humans, then perhaps she might find an escape from Uther and her unwanted betrothal there as well as a cure for Bo…but she remembered all too well what had happened the last time someone offered her a way out of her predicament, and was determined not to be tricked again.

"If I persuade Merlin to release you," she said slowly, "what guarantee do we have that you'll take us to this mystical land? You could fly off the moment your chains are broken, never to be seen again."

"I could," Kilgharrah agreed, "but to what end? There is nowhere I could go in all of Albion where the Blood King would not eventually learn of my escape, and if his wrath is not yet sated, I would not be safe even if I fled to the very ends of the earth. Until I am certain he will seek no further retribution against me, I can never truly be free."

The heavy note of resignation in his voice struck a chord with Morgana because, just like when he spoke of his desire for revenge on Uther, she knew exactly how he felt…and the fact that his feelings were so closely aligned with her own caused her no small amount of unease. She certainly didn't want to have anything in common with the monster who had tried so hard to destroy her life – yet, since it seemed that she did, the question was whether this newly discovered common ground was enough to let them set aside their enmity and work together in service of their mutual goals.

Of course, it isn't just his freedom, or mine, at stake here. It's Bo's life…and since he's the only one who's been able to offer even a glimmer of a hope of saving her, I really don't have a choice.

She looked up to find the dragon watching her, the shrewd look in his golden eyes making her suspect that he knew perfectly well what she was thinking. "Well, witch? Do we have a bargain or not?" he asked with the slightest tinge of impatience coloring his voice.

Morgana swallowed hard, steeling her nerves before she surrendered to the inevitable. "If you swear you'll do everything in your power to get us to the Blood King's castle before Bo succumbs to the curse…then yes, I'll convince Merlin to set you free."

Hmm, that might be easier said than done given Kilgharrah's track record…but, since I need him to keep his word in order for my plans for the sequel to work, he actually is being honest for once. His history with Trick was inspired by Gaius' line from 'Beauty and the Beast' about dragons and trolls having been allies in the past, which I took and dreamed up my own version of the circumstances behind their alliance.

So now Kilgharrah's getting out, except this time he's got other priorities besides wreaking fiery vengeance on Camelot, meaning 2x13 just got butterfly effect-ed out of the story…for now, anyway. This brings us to the end of s2, then, so the next chapter will be the last.