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Morgana fell to her knees as soon as Guinevere walked out through the doors. Sobs wracked her frame as she buried her face in her hands.
"Morgana," Merlin's voice was gentle as he put his arms around her shoulders.
He could offer no words of comfort; all he could do was hold his friend and hope that her tears would stop. Truth be told, he was on the verge of panic as well. Guinevere's words were chilling.
"You will receive no forgiveness from me."
What have they done?
If he had fought harder for Guinevere; if he had stood by the queen as solidly as he supported Arthur, would this be happening right now? He thought back to the days when he had power, Guinevere had so few on her side then. Arthur's faith in her had waxed and waned, and his own loyalty to her had shifted for reasons he could not even remember anymore.
Her defense had been left to one knight: Galahad. The Knight most loyal to the Queen. Ironic considering that he was Lancelot's son, but the young knight had picked up every thrown gauntlet that challenged his Lady.
He was the one who stood by her funeral pyre and guarded her ashes.
Merlin held Morgana and waited until she stopped trembling before helping her to stand up. It was only then that he turned to look at Arthur. The king was sitting on one of the chairs, his head was bowed and both hands were holding his head.
It was the posture of a man who was utterly at a loss at what to do. Arthur could command men to battle no matter the time and age, but here, right now, he was defeated.
"Arthur?" He said, calling the man by his first name. "Let me just take Morgana to her room..."
His voice faded as Arthur raised his head to look at him. His eyes were red from the tears that he had silently shed, but there was a haunted, hollow look to them that shook Merlin to his core. He had only seen Arthur look this way one other time before: when he realized that it was too late to take back Guinevere's death sentence.
"Go," Arthur said. "Take care of her."
Merlin nodded and led Morgana to her room. No words were exchanged between them but Merlin knew what she was thinking: that this was their fault.
"Merlin," Morgana said as soon as she was on her bed. "Is it the end?"
"I don't know."
There was a pause as Morgana tried to suppress her sobs.
"I did this, you know," her voice was soft. "I turned her against all of us."
Merlin couldn't answer; he knew he was equally to blame.
"We have to put things right," Morgana's voice was steady, and he could hear the strength behind her sentiments. "We have to try."
"For whose sake, Morgana?"
Morgana looked at Merlin.
"For her," she turned her head and looked at the ceiling. "For all of us," she added softly and closed her eyes. "She must know she is not to blame."
Merlin waited until Morgana's breathing had evened before leaving her room. He made his way back to Arthur and found the king nursing a tumbler that was now half-full of something amber and potent.
"Isn't it too early for that?"
Arthur took another sip and with not even a word, threw the glass and the rest of its contents at one of the marble pillars. Merlin merely looked on as the tumbler shattered.
"What do I do now?" Arthur turned to look at him. "Tell me, Merlin, as you're the one who seems to have all the answers."
He stalked across the patio and stood in front of the wizard. The king's clenched fists told Merlin that he was barely controlling his temper.
"I've taken your advice blindly," Arthur's tone was mocking. "I turned against my own wife because of you!"
Merlin kept quiet. He remembered the king's anguish during the last hours before Guinevere's execution. He told Arthur that he could not be seen as a weak king, and Merlin had done nothing to save the queen's life. Guinevere's execution had all but killed Arthur's spirit and it didn't take long for his kingdom to fall as well.
"We all betrayed her," Merlin replied. His voice was soft. The hand he played in the queen's death weighed heavily on his conscience. Whatever her transgressions—imagined or real—she had served Camelot faithfully.
'Perhaps more faithfully than I ever did,' Merlin thought.
Arthur's fist came crashing down on a table, causing Merlin to jerk his head towards the direction of the noise.
Despair had replaced the anger on Arthur's face. He noticed that the king had to take several gasping breaths before speaking.
"I cannot live with her hate, Merlin," Arthur said, his voice on the verge of cracking. "I will not live without her."
He looked at the wizard.
"Tell me what to do," desperation colored the king's voice. "I need her..."
Merlin stood there and watched as Arthur, the Once and Future King, turn away, raking his hands through his hair, just as tears fell from his eyes. He stood there, helpless and mute, because for once, no answers came to him.
