I received two reviews and, for me, they're a lot. So I decided to update soon.

The chapters won't be long and will be over when it feels right. It won't be a long story, I think. probably a round 20k words... I hope...

Read the prologue for warnings, pairings and disclaimer.

Everything had happened so fast.

Too fast.

Merlin had just found a way to 'heal' the queen from the enchantment that Morgana had placed on her. He had knocked on the door of her chambers and had entered without waiting for the answer, knowing that the subject of his thoughts was in there, waiting for the right moment to strike Arthur.

He closed the door behind his back and Gwen turned around hurriedly, placing a sickly - and completely false - sweet smile on her face. She had her hands behind her back, hiding something from his view. "Merlin! To what do I owe the pleasure?" she inquired - he had to admit she was quite the good actress. No wonder Arthur hadn't suspected her for a moment - and it had almost costed him his life. But he - contrarily to what Arthur thought - wasn't stupid. He had noticed Gwen's treachery, that she was under some kind of spell, and had found a cure for it.

He stepped forward and looked at the queen, his heart thumping in anticipation and his body still aching from the residue of the poison Morgana had given him less than two days before. He took in a deep breath and locked eyes with the woman - her eyes, once warm and full of kindness, were now completely hollow. "Why are you doing this, Gwen?" he asked. "Why would you try to kill Arthur? We both know he loves you more than anything in this world. And I know that you love him with all your heart."

The former maid dropped any pretenses, her smile turning into a smirk. "Are you sure, Merlin? Because last time I checked, when you love someone, you don't try to kill them, do you? Maybe I'm just tired of him."

He shook his head, not believing her words. She was definitely not the real Gwen; she would have never said something like that. "Morgana has enchanted you. You're not in your right mind, my lady," he explained and took another step towards her, carefully - as if he were approaching a wild beast, ready to attack him but waiting for the right moment, for him to show his weaknesses.

Guinevere let out a brief and humorless laugh, inching closer towards him with a strange glint in her eyes. "Oh Merlin, poor, ingenue, useless Merlin... You don't believe Arthur's sweet Gwen could ever get tired of him, do you? Not even when she has tried to kill him and blame you for his attempted murder. You're such a fool, and he's just a mindless man who wants a queen to show around like a trophy, nothing more."

The young man winced at her words, not because they were true, but for the utterly wrongness of what she was saying. "No, you don't mean that," he whispered, taking another step forward and repeating the spell in his mind for the thousandth time.

They were circling each other like two animals did - their senses sharp and their muscles tensed - waiting for the other to attack first and avoid being caught unaware. "Alright, maybe Arthur really loves me. But I don't love him, so it doesn't change anything. I was never his, and never will be. I'm going to kill him soon, and you won't be able to do anything but watch him die," she said, spelling the last three words slowly to emphasize them and walking to stand at arm's length from him. "You see this?" she asked, showing him a richly engraved dagger - the one Arthur had given her on their last anniversary, beautiful to the eye but still perfectly useful in defending, attacking, and eventually killing. "This is what will kill Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin shook his head, swallowing in fear - not for himself, but for his king's wellbeing. He knew he couldn't hurt the woman, for the real Gwen would be hurt as well, but he knew that he had to do something. Even though he was armed with the spell, his tongue ready to pronounce it, he still felt insecure about it. He shook his head, knowing that it was his last chance to save everyone. "Not if I stop you," he whispered, taking ahold of her arm, his grip firm and tight enough to keep her in place but not to hurt.

His other hand flew to her forehead, and he closed his eyes in concentration, beginning to recite the words of the strong spell he had found in his book, feeling the warmth of his magic stirring in his chest. "Yfel gæst ga þu fram þisse lichaman. Biþ hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofontungol..."

As he opened his glowing eyes and a golden light encased them both for the shortest of moments, something else happened, something he had considered - an obstacle to his plan - but without really thinking about the consequences. Guinevere, thinking she was being attacked by him - and this evil Guinevere probably was - tried to defend herself with the dagger.

The blade stabbed him just below his heart, sliding swiftly between his ribs. Burning plain exploded in the left side of his chest but, gritting his teeth against the pain, he managed to end the spell. "...sceal þurhswiþan!"

He stepped back, bringing a hand to his wound, blood spilling through his fingers but focusing his attention on the woman before him.

The smirk dropped from her face, replaced by a frown. She looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Merlin?" she breathed, blinking quickly to clear her blurred vision.

"Gwen? Is it really you...?" he asked tentatively, wanting to be sure his spell had worked. If it hadn't, he wasn't sure he would be able to do anything else.

She nodded quickly and gave him an uncertain smile, her memories still not clear - but she could remember being trapped into herself while someone commanded her will and her actions. "Yes," she whispered almost reverently, knowing Merlin had been the one to save her - she didn't know how, but he had, and she was grateful.

The servant's eyes widened and he grinned, knowing his friend was back. A wave of dizzying relief overthrew him for a moment, and he almost laughed. But the movement jolted his ribcage and he was painfully reminded of his wound. He gasped, his eyes trailing down to look at his bloodied and trembling hand, which was unsuccessfully trying to stem the hemorrhage. It took no more than a whimper for him to fall to the ground, in the growing pool of his own blood.

The last thing he heard was the queen's horrified and scared scream, along with the sound of the dagger clattering to the ground and her knees hitting the marble floor.

Her desperate pleas for him to stay awake faded into nothingness as an impenetrable darkness dragged him into oblivion.

(07/23/2013)