Chapter Sixteen: Destiny and Doom

"My thanks for coming on such short notice," said Arthur as he swept into the throne room, where the council waited at the round table. Merlin trailed in a step behind his king, trying to ignore the councilmen's eyes boring into him. The fact that he suddenly had the entire room's attention confused him a bit. Yes, servants weren't usually present at war meetings, but was it that unusual to see him with Arthur?

Merlin suddenly understood when he moved to stand behind Arthur's chair after the king sat down.

Arthur pointed to the empty chair at his right—the chair, Merlin abruptly realized, that was the only empty one at the table.

"No, Merlin. Sit."

Merlin blinked. "What?"

Arthur sighed, snatched him by the arm, and dragged him closer. "Sit down."

Merlin sat. The chair was a lot harder and not quite as comfortable as he had imagined—no wonder Arthur always looked so unhappy during these meetings.

The fact that all the lords were still openly gawking at him did not help matters.

"That's the new Court Advisor you wanted to announce?" asked Lord Dichan blankly. Merlin had never really liked him. Not only had the man always insisted his cup never fall below three-quarters full at feasts, but he had also agreed with Uther on just about every matter. Merlin knew Arthur didn't care much for the man either, but Dichan was an expert in law, and his wife's family controlled an important trade route.

"Yes," said Arthur, raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

Merlin fought very hard to not shrink into his seat and to keep his face completely nonchalant, but it was a struggle. Court Advisor?!

"I apologize, your majesty," Lord Dichan said delicately, "It's just that when you said you'd be appointing a new advisor to deal with this crisis, I assumed it would be someone more…qualified."

Arthur's jaw tightened ever so slightly, but his voice remained level. "Lord Merlin,"—Merlin choked on air—"has been training as Gaius's apprentice for years, and as Gaius is unable to attend this meeting, I thought he'd make a fine replacement. As for the promotion, you might be aware that I was held by agents of Morgana for the days prior to this siege. Lord Merlin was instrumental in my escape. I'd have an official ceremony, but I believe we have much more pressing matters to discuss."

And instantly, Merlin was forgotten.

"Are the rumors true, sire? Are our lands under attack?" one lord asked.

"We can't let those sorcerers go unpunished!" cried another.

"We should send our forces against them!"

"With that many mercenaries at our gates? We can't!"

Arthur cleared his throat, and silence enveloped the room immediately. "First, let me clear up a few things. The rumors you've all heard were partly true—Morgana's forces, most of which possess magical abilities, have indeed left the siege. Many of them did indeed appear to be casting spells on the shield created by our sorcerer ally—"

The council broke into whispers. From across the table, Merlin spotted Geoffrey of Monmouth eying him suspiciously, and his stomach squirmed as he carefully arranged his face into a well-practiced look of simple-minded innocence. Nope. No magic here. Just a plain, ordinary, lowly…lord. Arthur had made him a lord. Arthur had made him a lord and then apparently forgot to tell him.

He was going to words with that prat later.

"Pardon me, sire," said Lord Dichan over the whispers, his tone indicating it was not a request, "but how do you know this supposed ally is working in Camelot's interests and not for some other dark purpose?"

Arthur cleared his throat again, rather obnoxiously Merlin thought, but the council quieted obediently. "Our sorcerer ally has my full confidence. As you can see, the shield has held the entire night, despite Morgana's attempts to get in. May I remind you all that if not for the sorcerer protecting us, Camelot likely would have fallen by now—or at least suffered severe casualties. We owe him our lives."

Merlin desperately hoped that the heat he could feel in his cheeks wasn't visible.

"As I was saying, it is true that Morgana's forces approached the shield, and it is true that those who have left are casting spells on the surrounding farms. However, the sorcerer protecting us has informed me that far from being an attack, the sorcerers leaving the siege have used their magic to help protect Camelot by strengthening the shield, and that the spells cast on farms will increase our harvests."

"Excuse me, sire," said Lord Wymond, a usually soft-spoken man who ruled over a town on the western border, "Are you saying that the sorcerers are helping us?"

Arthur nodded, clearly pleased. "Exactly. They are not only leaving without attacking, but they are actively helping to protect this castle and ensuring this kingdom's continued prosperity. As it stands now, Morgana's forces are severely depleted, and as far as we can tell, almost all of those that are left are mercenaries, not sorcerers." He paused to let that sink in.

Merlin twitched as something brushed on his mind. Kilgharrah? He didn't care enough to check, not when Arthur was so close to his destiny, not when his own magic was thrumming inside him at the sheer weight of this moment.

"Tonight, those who use magic have protected us," Arthur continued, "They have fought off our enemies. They have strengthened us in our time of need. And they have done this despite the fact that we have hunted them, killed them, and tried to purge them from our lands. Now…" He rose from his chair, and somehow managed to fix his gaze on every man in the room. "Give me one good, solid reason why I should not grant these people—our people—their freedom."

Silence. Merlin didn't dare breathe, already feeling so light that he thought filling his chest with air might actually make him float.

After a long moment, though, Lord Dichan did speak up. "My lord, while their help now is commendable, magic has nearly destroyed this kingdom before."

Arthur nodded. "So it has. But tell me, then, what do you plan to do about Caerleon?"

"Caerleon?" Lord Dichan repeated blankly.

Something nudged at Merlin's mind again, stronger this time, and his fists clenched underneath the table. Not now, not now, please, one more minute...

"Caerleon," Arthur repeated. "has also nearly destroyed this kingdom before. I believe we were at war with Caerleon when I was born, were we not?"

"I…I suppose…"

"Then in that case, why should I not lead an attack on Caerleon immediately?"

Geoffrey of Monmouth spoke up, his mouth curled in a half-smile. "Because now they're our ally, my lord."

Arthur leaned on the table, staring pointedly at Lord Dichan. "Exactly. Despite our years of war, despite my foolish execution of their king, our kingdoms have allied and been able to live peacefully, which has benefitted both our kingdoms. Now why can't we do the same for our own citizens? Because that's what they are—citizens of Camelot. What we have been fighting is not a war on evil, but a civil war upon our own citizens based on the actions of one individual, Nimueh, nearly thirty years ago. I say it stops now. As of this moment, I'm declaring an end to the Purge. From this time forward, the use of magic is legal."

The words rang in Merlin's ears like thunder. He couldn't breathe.

"I expect you all to help me put that in writing as soon as these mercenaries are taken care of…"

No, he really couldn't breathe. Something was constricting his chest, clawing at his mind, sucking him into a furious, determined darkness…

Then something shattered, and he pitched forward with a gasp, bracing himself on the table as glorious magic—his magic—poured back into him in a steady, pounding stream. There was no inch of him not utterly saturated in magic as it wove back through his blood, lined every fiber of his skin, sank deep into his bones. Everything he saw was a dazzling gold.

He opened his eyes to find that his knuckles were white around the table's edge. He relaxed his grip as the magic settled back inside him. The whole world was now a lot less fuzzy than it had been a minute ago. Everything seemed clearer now, sharper, more focused. For the first time in a week, he felt truly well and whole.

Oh, and the entire council was staring at him yet again. Merlin hoped he hadn't interrupted Arthur's speech. It was a historical moment after all.

Arthur's hand squeezed his shoulder, and Merlin looked up at him. The king's face was grim. "It's fallen, hasn't it." It was not a question.

Merlin nodded absently, still reeling from Arthur's ruling on magic moments before and reveling in how good he felt. "Morgana's through. You need to get out of here."

"Are you alright?"

"Absolutely brilliant. Now really, you all need to get out of here. She's on her way."

Arthur turned back to his court, who were giving both him and Merlin odd looks. "My lords," Arthur began, "I have a battle to win. You lot can discuss the best ways of re-integrating the allowance of magic into the laws while I'm gone—"

"No, Arthur, you don't understand," said Merlin, the pleasant feeling becoming frantic as the full realization of what had just happened sank in. He could taste the witch's magic on his tongue, so very close, too close, but he couldn't pinpoint her exact location. She was too much like a shadow, present everywhere yet not tangible enough to touch, but most definitely near. "She punched a hole straight through it with a teleportation spell. She's in the castle."

Arthur's eyes widened, but he faced his council with an eerie calm. "Right. Evacuate the council room immediately. Make sure the hospital and the tunnels leading to the citizens are secure. Get some knights up here now—not all of them; if the shield's fallen, there's sure to be some mercenaries breaching the walls—"

Lord Dichan banged his fist on the table. "I beg your pardon, sire, but am I to believe you are honestly going to base decisions on the ramblings of a serv—"

The doors exploded off their hinges, and the entire council rose as one, drawing their swords to face the threat. Morgana sauntered in, chin held high.

Merlin's magic tingled in his veins with dread. He'd known since the last time Morgana attacked Camelot that he would have to face her someday. And face her he would, because he was tired of watching her destroy everything he'd worked for, of witnessing her squandered potential. Morgana had so much power—he'd felt it when she broke through his shield—magic so huge and breathtakingly beautiful that she could have done so much more, been so much more than this wild-eyed witch before him.

His fists clenched at his sides. Not today, she wouldn't. Could've, would've, should've. It didn't matter now. She may have been his greatest mistake and his deepest regret, but he knew that she had to be stopped. And if she didn't back down…

Then today, Morgana was going to meet her doom.

As Morgana entered, Arthur's throat ran dry the way it always did when his mind tried to match up the compassionate woman he'd grown up with to the witch glaring at him now with murderous glee.

"Oh, by all means," she simpered, stretching forth her hand. "No need for such a warm welcome." With a flash of her eyes, the councilmen's swords all tore themselves free of their owners' hands. Arthur's hand moved to the pommel of the sword from the stone on his belt, but didn't yet draw it. His was the only sword that remained where it was; he'd rather Morgana not notice his advantage.

"Hello, brother," Morgana continued. Her mouth twitched in a mocking smile. "Pleased to see me?"

Arthur spoke with a heavy heart. "There was a time I'd have said yes, but those days are long past."

"I'd say I'm terribly sorry for my lateness, but then…" Morgana's smile dropped to a snarl as her hand lifted. The swords above the table all rotated slowly to point at Arthur's heart. "I think you'll be sorrier about yours."

She threw, and the swords all hurtled towards him with the speed and precision of arrows. Arthur drew his sword in defense—

Merlin leapt onto the table in front of him, hand raised and eyes glowing. The swords all jolted to a stop a hair's width from the warlock's fingers. Shocked cries and gasps echoed through the throne room.

Morgana took the slightest of steps back before her face twisted in hatred. "Merlin." She pulled at the air and the swords spun on the spot and shot out, each blade pointing at its original holder.

Merlin flicked his wrist, and the blades all halted just short of the throats of the terrified councilmen. "Give it up, Morgana." His voice rang through the chamber with absolute authority. "You'll not be hurting anyone today. Just stop. You have nothing left to fight for."

"I have everything left to fight for!" Morgana spat. She clawed at the air, apparently trying to wrench full control of the swords back from Merlin. Merlin clenched his jaw and raised his other hand, and the swords budged no closer to their intended victims.

"Arthur's just repealed the ban on magic," Merlin said, a sense of wonder in his voice, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. Then his voice bittered, making him sound decades older. "Isn't that what you wanted? Or is that not enough?"

As he spoke, Merlin slowly moved across the table towards Morgana, arms outstretched and palms out. All around the table, the councilmen silently stared wide-eyed at their exchange, helpless against the swords hovering near their quivering flesh as the witch and the warlock struggled for control.

Moving very, very slowly, so as not to attract attention, Arthur crouched until he was just below chair height and began to make his way around the table, keeping a close eye on his friend and his sister's exchange as he went.

"Of course it's not enough. I want my throne. I want my rightful place as queen!"

"Listen to yourself! That's not what the woman I sent to the druids wanted. All she wanted was to no longer have to live in fear."

"And how much I had to fear! I couldn't even trust my own kind. All this time, Merlin, you could have helped me. We could have taken Camelot together years ago. But instead you poisoned me!"

Merlin gritted his teeth as Morgana's fury made the swords inch closer to their targets, but his voice remained calm. "Because it was the only way to break the sleeping spell. And I knew that you were trying to kill Uther. You would have tried again."

"You poisoned me for something I might have done?"

"Tell me, how many times did you try to kill Uther before I poisoned you?"

"Of course I tried to kill him! You know what he did, how many people he killed! He would have killed me! He would have killed you and you still defended him! Why?!"

"Because Arthur wasn't ready to be king. Because if he lost his father to magic, he'd be turned against it forever. And because he's my friend, and that would have broken him."

Morgana sneered back at Merlin. "You did it to spare Arthur's feelings?"

"Why not?" Merlin said coldly. "That's why I let you live. Haven't you wondered yet why I let you live in the castle for a year? I have magic; I could have killed you. In fact, I nearly did. I pushed you down the stairs."

Behind the councilmen, Arthur swallowed. He remembered the emptiness that had lodged in his chest when he'd thought Morgana was going to die. Somehow the memory hurt all the more now that he knew she'd been working against them even then. He took a deep breath and continued his slow lap around the table. He was just past the halfway point to Morgana now, and she was still distracted.

At Merlin's admission, Morgana's eyes widened, and her grasp on the swords faltered. "You—"

"And then I healed you. I knew you were a murderer and I let you live because I hoped that somewhere in there was still the woman I knew, someone with compassion left in her soul, someone who Arthur and Gwen, at least, could still call a friend. And that's how I know that you have no sense of friendship or loyalty, Morgana. Because I understand you trying to kill Uther, I understand you trying to kill me. But what did Arthur or Gwen ever do to you? They were your friends and you tried to kill them."

"Arthur's just like his father."

"But he's not. He never was. And you knew that. You saw him save a druid boy. You saw him protect a village at the edge of the kingdom from bandits. You saw him fight to knight commoners, risk his life to find a cure for a dying servant, and rescue a maid from your kidnappers, and you saw him do all those things against Uther's direct orders. Arthur wanted so badly to be like his father, but he never could, because he is a better man than Uther could have ever hoped to be."

Arthur's grip tightened on his sword as he neared even closer to where Morgana stood. The amount of faith Merlin had in him was still staggering. And it was odd, hearing his deeds the way Merlin put them. Since his father had died, his thoughts had always centered on how hard he'd tried to make his father proud of him. He'd forgotten how often he had tried to defy him instead.

"And even then, you went after Gwen. Gwen, Morgana. You tried to kill someone who had only ever tried to be your friend."

"She was going to steal my crown!"

Merlin bowed his head sadly, voice filled with pity. "So you tried to kill her for something she might have done?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Emrys!" Morgana screeched. The swords wavered, then disintegrated into ash. Every councilman in the room exhaled at once, although their relief was short-lived as Morgana's eyes blazed.

Like a ship cresting above a wave, the entire round table soared up into the air, taking Merlin up with it.

Ignoring the terrified scattering councilmen, Arthur lunged for the table. His fingers managed to curl around the table's edge, but his added weight made the table tip, and he slid right off. The table wobbled violently in midair, and atop it Merlin's eyes flickered with fear as he lurched to and fro, struggling to keep his balance.

Her face aglow with vindictive triumph, Morgana flung the table—and Merlin—across the room. The table slammed into the wall with enough force to shake the castle. It cracked in half on impact and tumbled back to the ground, showering splinters and chunks of the wall raining down on the thrones below.

"MERLIN!" Arthur screamed. He couldn't see his friend anywhere in the rubble.

Morgana whirled to see the king feet away, the sword from the stone clutched in his hand. She smirked. "Why, Arthur," she said sweetly, "Did you really think you could sneak up on me?"

Arthur wrenched his attention away from where Merlin had fallen and jabbed his sword in Morgana's direction.

Her lips twisted into a sneer. "Not so invincible without your little guard dog."

Arthur raised his sword higher, trying to shove away panicked thoughts of Merlin's broken body.

Morgana laughed, eyes sparkling cruelly. "You think you can beat a High Priestess with a sword? Oh, Arthur, that's so like you. It's a wasted effort. If Emrys can't stop me, you certainly can't. Nobody can now."

With a cry of frustration and fury, Arthur charged, the sword from the stone pointed at Morgana's heart.

The witch threw her hand forward, and Arthur squinted as a red bolt of light hurtled towards him—

The light hit the sword with a colossal crack like thunder. Power radiated through the blade and painfully up through Arthur's arm. At the same time, he felt himself skidding backwards like he'd been shoved.

His chest heaved as he regained his balance, now halfway across the room away from Morgana. What was that?

Morgana, however, seemed just as confused as he was. "What is that thing?"

She was glaring at the sword, which, Arthur noted, was completely unharmed by the spell. In fact, it almost seemed to gleam brighter, thrumming in Arthur's hand like it was all the better for the attack.

Kills the undead, Merlin had told him. And apparently, it blocked spells as well, absorbing their magic like lightning to a rod. Arthur twirled the sword grimly, and half-crouched in anticipation of another attack. "Gift from Merlin."

Morgana's jaw clenched for a brief moment. "Then I suppose it's too bad he's dead. I'm sure he'd have enjoyed watching me kill you." She started to walk around him almost leisurely, and Arthur followed her with his sword so as not to give her another opening for attack.

Focus, Arthur ordered himself, because his hands had started to tremble. Merlin could not be dead; Arthur wouldn't allow it. Merlin had to be alive, and Arthur needed to end this quickly, before Morgana tried something the sword might not be able to handle, like setting the entire room on fire.

"It was going to be quick, you know," Morgana continued smoothly as she circled him. "But since Merlin's seen fit to get in the way again, I'll be sure to kill you slowly, to honor his memory."

They were at an impasse, Arthur realized with dismay, with neither quite able to kill the other. Except that Morgana could attack at a distance, while he could not, and she could easily choose to attack the surrounding councilmen, who were now all unarmed and pasted to the walls in terror.

He was just preparing himself for another charge when he heard a slight cough and the sound of shifting wood at the end of the room. It took every ounce of Arthur's self-control to not turn his head to look at the broken wood at the far wall. Merlin!

Morgana's head started to turn towards the sound, and Arthur quickly said, "I bet you can't. Because seeing how well off this sword is, I'd say his magic's more powerful than yours."

Now he had her attention. "Hardly. I am the last High Priestess, and he was nothing but a servant, Emrys or not."

Something toppled over at the far wall, accompanied by the sound of a man's groan. Many of the councilmen were staring obviously in Merlin's direction, and Arthur cursed inside his head. Morgana shifted, twisting to look towards the sound—

"FORBEARNE!" Arthur yelled with perfect pronunciation.

Morgana whipped back to face him, eyes bulging in complete shock at the sound of Arthur Pendragon casting a spell—

Which meant she didn't see the largest remaining chunk of the round table swing around to slam into her side, catapulting her straight through the window and into the courtyard below with a cacophony of shattered glass.

Arthur finally let himself turn to see Merlin crawling out from the rubble, dusty and breathing hard but unharmed. The king sheathed his sword and rushed towards him, dragging him out and up to his feet.

"You idiot, what were you thinking?" Arthur admonished, hitting off some of the dust.

"I was thinking I didn't want you impaled, you—"

Merlin cut off as his body whipped out of Arthur's reach, half-bent like an invisible rope tied around his waist was yanking him away towards the gaping new hole where the window used to be.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, running after him, but there was nothing he could do. Merlin flew backwards, eyes wide and hands scrabbling for purchase as he blew out the window after Morgana and into the courtyard below.

A/N: You know you're a weird person when you look at that round table in the throne room and think, man, how awesome would it be if Merlin chucked that thing at someone in a fight? REALLY AWESOME.

Part two of three of battle on Tuesday. Please review.