So here we are. The moment we've all been waiting for. This chapter turned out about twice as long as I thought it would, but it would have been impossible to stop any earlier. Besides, I doubt any of you will really mind the length. I've only just finished typing this up, so haven't proof-read it yet, but I was eager to get it up as soon as possible.

By the way, a big welcome to all of my new readers! I'm so glad you've all stumbled upon this humble little world of mine!

Please, please, please, please, pleeease leave me a review at the end of this one. I think it's probably a bit different to what everyone was expecting, so I really want to know what you think. You'll see why.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Chapter 29

Morgana's patience was running dangerously thin. She had never had much to begin with, and the current events were proving highly counter-productive to her attempts at remaining calm.

To think, the day had started off so well! After months and months of endless planning and preparation, their scheme had finally come to fruition. She was Queen, and highly enjoying the perks which came with the position.

Then some fool- a fool she had thought an ally, no less- had just had to go and plot to ruin everything. Just her luck. And then, as if his only purpose in doing so was to spite her, when she and Morgause had attempted to transport themselves to the traitor's position, some sort of barrier had instead made them end up several corridors away, unable to get any closer unless on foot.

Since then, it had taken them five full minutes just to advance through three short corridors, together with three of their magical allies and a small cohort of mind-enslaved Knights. Whoever they were up against, they seemed to be almost able to rival her sister's power.

It was nothing short of mortifying.

Passing by a tapestry, she didn't even bother trying to hold back the small scream of frustration which erupted from her as their party was blown backwards a good two feet by a blast of magical wind.

Beside her, Morgause muttered a few words in the ancient language, causing the air around them to momentarily develop a slight sheen.

"There," the Blonde snapped. "That's another ward set up."

That made seven wards around their group in total, and still some of the traps were finding ways around them. The problem, according to Morgause, was that each of the traps used such differing brands of magic that it was practically impossible to guard against every possibility. They could do little else but stay on guard. Her! Morgana! On guard against traps laid out within HER OWN CASTLE! Furious wasn't a strong enough word to describe how she felt. When she discovered the person behind all these frustrations, she was going to tear them limb from limb with her bare hands.

A near-deafening, high-pitched keening suddenly erupted, seemingly from one of the suits of armour which dotted her castle. Covering her ears, Morgana latched onto her anger, using it as a driving force for her magic. Lashing out furiously, she blasted the responsible armour to smithereens, grinning almost manically as the squealing instantly ceased.

She allowed herself a moment to relish in the looks of alarm which had sprouted upon the faces of her magical subjects as a result of her outburst. They often seemed to forget that, though barely trained, she herself had the potential to rival her sister in strength, and maybe even become a high priestess of the old religion. With the way she was feeling at that moment, they best not forget it again.

Turning on her heel, the raven-haired woman pressed on, her sister matching her pace step for step.

And so it continued- battling winds, fires, an indoor miniature blizzard and even suits of armour come to life- until, finally, they arrived at the entrance to their goal. Morgana studied the well-crafted wooden door before her, for once listening to the inner voice which told her that something was wrong. If she squinted, she could almost see a faint golden sheen coating both the door and the walls surrounding it.

"Is this what I think it is?" She questioned, turning to the Blonde beside her.

"The original barrier," agreed Morgause. "And it doesn't look like it will be easy to break. We shall have to proceed carefully, or we may even end up being sent away again."

"Shall I help?"

A quick shake of the head. "This is delicate work, sister. It requires a finesse brought about only by years of training and expertise." She turned to their three subjects, regarding them with an appraising eye. "Merek, Cedany. I believe the two of you shall suffice. Come."

After a hasty reply of "Yes, my Lady," the two joined Morgause at the door, Morgana stepping back to give them room to work, whilst she, Tevin and the mesmerised Knights watched. The three of them raised their arms in unison, hands hovering just a hair's breadth away from grazing the solid oak panels, and slowly reached out with their minds until the entire exterior of the chamber they were trying to reach was completely encompassed. Little did any of them know, at that time, that the strength and complexity of the barrier was such that, even with all three skilled magic users working with as much haste as the situation allowed them, it would take them almost three full minutes to break through. Three minutes where every second was wasting critical time...

Morgana really was going to enjoy killing the culprits.

He heard them coming. It was hard not to, really, considering the amount of noise they made whilst fighting through Merlin's last trap (a pile of ropes enchanted to have the same characteristics as deadly snakes, if he remembered correctly)- most people could have heard them coming a mile off. But most people weren't Knights of Camelot, trained to detect enemies blindfolded and estimate numbers relying on hearing alone. Kennard locked gazes briefly with Arthur.

"Ten?"

The Prince (he refused to think of him as anything but) nodded once, a tight smile dancing briefly on his lips, before turning back to the door.

"That's what I thought too."

Ten enemies. Against two Knights and the daughter of a blacksmith. Ordinarily, Kennard would have said that they had a decent chance. But among those ten would be Morgana, Morgause, and who knew how many sorcerers. The young Knight took a moment to steady his nerves. This was going to be tough.

His eyes flitted once more to the centre of the room, where Merlin was still lost in a worlds of magic. The Warlock truly was an awe-inspiring sight- eyes open and blazing with a golden fire, and thrumming with so much energy that he was actually vibrating with it. The circles he had created glowed blue, casting the young man in an ethereal light and making him- for once- appear to be what he actually was- a creature of magic with potential leagues beyond what any of them could imagine even in their wildest dreams.

It was almost impossible to look away, but Kennard force himself to nonetheless. As incredible a sight as it was, he couldn't allow himself to be distracted from their task. The fact that Merlin was still in that state meant that Camelot was still enchanted. And with the enemy about to break through that door, it was their job- his, Guinevere's and Arthur's- to hold the invading forces back until Merlin's counter-attack was complete.

With this thought in mind, he turned his entire focus on the door. It had gone completely silent on the other side, which couldn't surely couldn't be a good sign. In a situation such as this, silence could only mean one thing.

Just a short time later (although every second to pass felt like an eternity), it finally happened. A twisted sort of cracking sound reverberated throughout the room, seeming to emanate from everywhere at once, and the slightest of tremors engulfed the large wooden door.

Barely a single moment passed before the door slammed open, almost flying off it's hinges thanks to the tremendous magical force behind the event. Then in strode the Witch-Queen and her thrice-cursed sister, flanked by three plain-clothed citizens (sorcerers, most likely), and five fully-armed Knights. To his utter dismay, he saw both Mordon and Leon in the group, together with Sirs Kolby, Garrett and Quentin. His own brother, together with four more of Camelot's best fighters. The task was seeming more impossible by the second.

The trio didn't attack straight away. Acting on the fact that the sisters were unaware of Merlin's- of Emrys'- survival, they instead allowed the invaders time to take in the scene before them. The hope was that- however unlikely it may be- they would be so shocked by what the scene before them that they would be unable to attack without first confirming that what they saw was indeed the truth.

The technique seemed to be proving effective. The unknown sorcerers appeared too awed to do much of anything other than stare, and the sisters' victorious smirks were quickly shifting into an odd blend of shock, confusion and cold, hard fury. Morgana actually looked like she was about to be sick.

They stood for a moment, mouths opening and closing like those of goldfish as they struggled to find any words. If the situation had seen less serious, Kennard might have laughed. Something Arthur (though whether it was real or not he had no idea) actually did.

The unexpected sound was enough to shake the women from their reverie, both turning to glare daggers at the Prince.

"What's the matter?" The Blond laughed, showing not even a glimmer of fear. "You look like you weren't expecting that."

Morgana snarled viciously, appearing for a moment to be almost feral. "He's supposed to be dead!"

"Did you honestly think that someone as infuriatingly stubborn as Merlin would be killed off so easily?" Arthur scoffed, his expression turning serious as he studied the young woman he had grown up with. "You really have changed, haven't you." It wasn't a question. "I had hoped the day would never come when I would have to treat you as an enemy."

"Surprised?"

"No." The Blond paused. "Just... disappointed. When Merlin informed me of your magic, I had hoped that you would be strong enough to move past your fear and use your position to change the Kingdom's opinions- to help me in bringing about Albion." Blue eyes bore into green. "It seems my hopes were in vain."

For a split second, Morgana almost looked like she was going to concede. But the faint glimmer she showed was gone in an instant, replaced first by fear, then desperation, and finally anger.

"And in exchange, I suppose you would have wanted me to work alongside that monster." She gestured wildly towards Merlin. "He poisoned me! He tried to kill me! Your precious Merlin is nothing more than a lying traitor who'll quite happily murder those whom he calls friends as long as it suits his purpose!"

Something within Arthur seemed to snap, and he glared at Morgana with a barely-restrained fury Kennard had never seen before glinting in eyes which were as cold as ice, and yet simultaneously burned with the passion of a raging furnace.

"Don't you ever say that again," he ordered, enunciating each and every word with perfect clarity. "When you have no idea how much that decision tortured him. It was you or the Kingdom, Morgana! One life, however dear, must never be allowed to outweigh the lives of so many. And he would never have had to make the decision in the first place had your precious sister's spell not forced his hand!"

Morgana only needed a second to get over her sock at the Prince's outburst.

"You will not," she threatened, "blame his actions on Morgause. She has been a better family to me these past months than our father ever was!"

Silence. You could have heard a pin drop as the trio slowly registered what the Witch had said. Kennard took it upon himself to speak, as the other two seemed unable to process the implications of her words as quickly as he had.

"Our? You mean..."

He took a moment to properly study the woman before him. Green eyes, strong features and an aura he had only seen in a handful of people before. There certainly were distinct similarities.

"Is Uther your..."

The Witch seemed to feel that she had finally gained some aspect of control over the situation, her earlier victorious expression creeping back in as she observed their reactions to her words.

"You didn't know, did you?" She taunted. "To think- you've been going through all this effort to reclaim the Kingdom. And it's all for a man who's been lying through his teeth for years! It seems the father you admire so whole-heartedly isn't as infallible as your thought, Arthur. He's nothing more than an arrogant tyrant trying to hide his crimes from the world."

The entire room went deathly silent once more as everyone watched for the Prince's reaction. Kennard couldn't help the burst of sympathy which shot through him as he eyed the Blond. The older man's head was bowed, his arms hung limply by his sides, and on the hand not holding his sword the fingers were twitching in a manner which suggested that they couldn't decide whether to form a fist or not.

Guinevere seemed to feel something similar, as she placed a tentative hand on the Prince's shoulder, only to have him gently remove it.

"Arthur?"

Head snapping up, the older man fixed his newly-discovered sister with a steady gaze, and Kennard was surprised to find only a hint of betrayal in their cerulean depths.

"I can only imagine how much his actions over the past months have been influenced by you two. But if there is anything that they, along with what happened with Merlin, have taught me, it is that my- our- father is far from infallible. It's hardly surprising- he is only human, after all. But what you don't seem to realise is that none of us here are doing this for him. We do this because the people have a right to chose what paths they themselves will walk. You have no right to take those choices from them. You called Uther a tyrant, but who would never have even considered doing that you have. I ask you then, what does that make you?"

Both sisters were close to breaking point now- Kennard could easily see it in the widening of their eyes and the tightening of the muscles around their jaws. Morgause had placed a hand on Morgana's arm, and the dark-haired Knight would have bet his life that this gentle touch was the only thing preventing the younger of the two from attempting to blast them into ashes. But for some reason, the Prince didn't stop there. Instead, his expression shifted to one of mock-thoughtfulness.

"Come to think of it, you used the fact that he's your father as proof of his fallibility..."

Suddenly, as though lightening had struck his mind, Kennard realised what Prince was doing. He couldn't believe he hadn't worked it out sooner. All of the witches' anger and attention was focussed on him and him alone. He was forcing them to almost forget Merlin's presence completely!

"...then that means that, in a way, you're calling yourself just another of his mistakes."

That did it. In a flash of anger, Morgana's eyes flared gold, and the fire of the torch closest to Arthur momentarily tripled in size.

Then, suddenly, the battle had begun. Kennard could hear some of the children whimpering towards the other end of the hall, but not a single one stepped outside of their respective circles. The young Knight quickly shifted into a position which would best shield the fighting from their eyes, moving his sword smoothly up to parry a strike aimed at his ribs. Whilst concentrating on blocking blow after blow, watching for a chance to counter, the back of his mind dimly registered that Garrett's strikes were more sluggish than usual, lacking in both the speed and the power they normally possessed. It seemed that the enchantments' control was still having an effect on the mens' fighting prowess.

Darting forward, he slammed the pommel of his sword into Garrett's helmet, then ducked down just in time to avoid the blade which had been about to slice into his neck form behind. Spinning around, Kennard found his next opponent to be Leon. But the older Knight wasn't alone. Two of the sorcerers- a mousey looking woman and a man he recognised from their near miss in the dungeons- lurked behind him, muttering words in the ancient language. Their presence alone was bound to make this fight several times more troublesome than the first.

Just as Leon's sword rushed towards him once more, Kennard dropped to the floor, unable to hold back a shocked cry as what felt like ice-cold knives were driven through his knees. It took him a moment to realise that the pain wasn't actually coming from anything physical, and he rolled to one side, gritting his teeth against the invisible injury while at the same time avoiding a downward swing from Leon's blade.

As the roll carried him to his feet, Kennard caught a glimpse of the others in the room. Guinevere appeared to be just about holding her own against Kolby and Quentin. Arthur was darting about, dodging attack after attack from the sisters. The final sorcerer was in the corner, seemingly whispering something over a box of some sort he had clutched in his hands. And Mordon... Mordon was heading his way.

The young Knight backed up a few steps, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his knees. It was creeping outwards now, spreading to encompass more of his legs and becoming even more agonising as it did so.

The children were no longer behind him, but to his left, eyes wide with fear as they watched the battle unfold.

To top it off, coupled with the spells of the duo of sorcerers, he now also had to contend with two Knights who, even while enchanted, were no doubt skilled enough to cause him to plenty of trouble. The only way he was going to be able to manage this was by moving as fast as possible.

Clearing his mind of anything but his own battle, Kennard leapt towards Leon- the closest of the two Knights- and began executing a flurry of attacks, moving faster and faster as he drove the man back step by step. Then, spotting the perfect moment, he feinted to the right, while at the same time slamming one armoured fist into the older man's jaw. His body instinctively followed the motion through, leaping past the now-unconscious Leon and towards the pair of sorcerers.

What he hadn't anticipated, though, was that the proximity would cause the pain in his legs to double while he was in the air. Upon landing his legs buckled beneath him, another spell flinging his sword from his grip in the same instant. He landed on his back, his own weapon out of reach and Mordon's cutting through the air towards him.

In a rush of panic, the young Knight automatically recalled Merlin's earlier instructions to the vessels. As he reached for the ball of power he had been told was inside him, a rush of comforting warmth filled his veins and he concentrated only on the notion of 'pushing.' In that instant, a blast of power erupted from him, sending both Mordon and the sorcerers flying and slamming them into one of the walls with a resounding 'crack.'

It was only when he tried to move that he realised that the blast had come just a second too late. He stared in horror at the sword which had just sliced through his armour, sinking deep into his gut. Blood had begun to well out instantly, and as his vision began to dim, the last thing he was aware of was Mordon stirring, wounded and bleeding from the head, his eyes finally clearing as he took in what he had done to his brother.

As ice spread like poison through his veins, Kennard forced himself to smile. He had done his best, and his brother was free. What more could he ask for?

Then, with that final thought, the world went black.