A/N: Thank you GuestM Live for reviewing!

Chapter 7

Arthur's screaming cut off with a ragged gasp as Morgana removed her fist from his chest. He lay on the ground, dry heaving even though there was nothing physical in his stomach to bring up. It was no less painful, though. Morgana stood over him, head cocked at an awkward angle, like a bird of prey.

"I'm not him," Arthur kept muttering, sobbing. "I'm not him."

The tears felt real as he cried into the frozen ground. He wanted Gwen. He wanted his life back. He didn't belong here. Uther did.

But the small part of Arthur's mind that still possessed rational thought remembered that everyone who died ended up here. If not now, then later. And when that time came, the torment would never end. He could feel the threads of his mind beginning to fray and unravel. He could just let them go, give in to the madness. Become like his sister. Like the other spirits. …Become a Wraith.

The thought made him both despair and angry. He curled his fingers into a fist through the dirt. Uther had managed to not give in all this time, and was Arthur going to allow himself to be weaker than that bastard? No. He was a king, damn it.

And he was dead.

So two could play at that game.

Arthur took a breath and steeled himself. He didn't really know what he was doing, but he lunged at Morgana, intending to push himself through her like she'd been doing to him. The crossing of their essences tingled and crackled, but this time it was Morgana who shrieked and reeled back. Arthur ran. Her enraged scream reverberated like thunder, and he could feel her giving chase. He wouldn't be able to outrun her, he was certain. So when he spotted spirits hovering a distance away, he turned and spurred toward them. They spotted him—fresh meat—and descended with squeals of their own.

Arthur focused on ducking and dodging. Some kept coming back around at him, but others split off. The shrieks increased, and Arthur chanced a look back. Morgana was battling half of the spirits, and the other half turned on her as well. In the chaos, Arthur managed to break away and he ran as hard and far as he could, until the echoing screams had receded beyond hearing. He finally slowed to a stop, exhausted. It was a strange sensation, not one of labored breathing or aching leg muscles, just an overall pulsing throughout his entire essence and tingling on his…aura.

He pushed himself to keep moving, to try to stay ahead of his crazed sister. Then he came upon something that drew him up short. In this realm of the dead and damned, was a tiny orb of glowing amber light bobbing like a firefly. It was so soft and warm and certainly didn't belong in this place.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked fearfully.

The light floated toward him, slid back and forth in front of his face, then away. His heart fell. While he didn't truly wish his friend to be dead and condemned to this place, Arthur would dearly appreciate some friendly company.

The light turned and zinged back to him, bobbed side to side again, and then took off, pausing when he didn't follow. He hesitated but decided to go after it. He knew what evil spirits looked like in this place; perhaps there were good ones as well.

It led him to a cave that looked and felt ominous. In fact, as Arthur stood on the threshold, he felt a strong sense to not go in there. But the light was directing him to, and it certainly wasn't safer outside, so he took a deep breath and strode inside. Hopefully Morgana wouldn't find him here.

The cave continued to feel oppressive, and Arthur was on edge as the tiny light came to a stop in a larger cavern. Then a figure emerged from the shadows, making him jump. He flinched at her horrific visage—a withered and sunken face, with rotten teeth and stringy white hair. But the worst were her eyes, sealed shut by spiraling scars.

She sniffed the air like an animal. "Ah, Arthur Pendragon," she rasped. "Took you long enough."

A chill went down his spine. "Who are you?"

"I was once known as the Dochraid," she replied, baring pointed teeth. Her breath wafted over to him, putrid as her appearance.

"And how do you know me?"

Her mouth split into a grin. "You are my payment for helping Uther Pendragon escape the Veil."

Arthur's non-corporeal blood ran cold. Why did it keep surprising him just how far his father had planned to betray him? He looked to the orb of light for help. But to his horror, it turned black and plopped heavily on the ground with an inky splat. He whipped back around to the hag, whose head was cocked as though listening. He tried to step carefully and quietly back toward the exit.

But she sniffed the air again and then hissed, and shadows came shooting out of the darkness to lash around Arthur like physical chains. He was quickly bound head to toe and fell onto his side, wrapped in the writhing coils.

"Fresh souls never enter my dwelling," the Dochraid susurrated. "I have starved for a thousand years." She swayed toward him. "Now I get to feed."

Arthur struggled frantically against his bonds. "Then why didn't you just take Uther?" he blurted.

She loomed over him, her expression leering even without eyes to see. "I could have. But the taste of a pure soul is so much more satisfying than the blackened heart of your father."

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. So he was to die because he was noble and too trusting.

The hag bent down on creaky knees beside him. Arthur fought with all he had, but it did no good. She raised a gnarled hand, fingernails long and pointed like talons. And then she sank them into his chest. It was worse than the torment Morgana had inflicted on him. Where once was ice, now there was fire. Arthur screamed as the hag reached into him and plucked at the very fabric of his soul. She peeled back the woven threads of his essence, tiny strand by tiny strand. His eyes blurred with phantom tears as he watched tendrils of himself get slurped up into the hag's mouth like noodles for supper. It was like being skinned alive. Arthur screamed until the walls shook, but the Dochraid merely cackled and continued to feed.

After getting everyone secured in the siege tunnels with supplies, Gwen pulled Leon, Lancelot, Elyan, Gwaine, Percival, and Gaius aside to discuss Arthur's erratic behavior. Gaius hadn't seen it for himself, as Arthur hadn't come down to join them in the tunnels, but they all agreed Arthur hoarding treasure was beyond unusual.

"Could he have been infected with something?" Leon asked.

"I can't be sure without him submitting to an examination," Gaius replied.

"I'll tie him down if necessary," Gwaine said too easily.

Gwen shot him an unamused look. "Could he have been infected by the demon somehow?"

"He wasn't present for either attack, though," Percival pointed out.

"Don't forget about Uther and whatever magic he used to get here," Lancelot put in. "That sounds more likely, as Arthur had more exposure to him."

Gwen pursed her mouth. "Arthur broke the mirror and banished him."

They all raised their brows at that.

"Why?" Elyan asked.

"He just said he was done with Uther."

"So you weren't present when he did it?" Gaius asked carefully.

She shook her head.

"Could Uther have tried something?" Leon asked.

Gaius shrugged. "Uther is not a sorcerer, but it's been so long, and he is no longer a mere mortal…"

"Um," Elyan said hesitantly. "Could it be something more…mundane—something hereditary?"

Gwen stiffened. The idea that Arthur had lost his mind as Uther had was ludicrous. He wasn't anything like his father… But what she'd seen of him recently… She looked to Gaius in question.

His brows were knitted together in thought. "Uther's madness was brought on by grief. But before that…he was never the kind and fair king Arthur is." Gaius shook his head. "No, I don't believe Arthur would suddenly turn into a version of his father overnight. Such illness of the mind doesn't happen that quickly."

"But then what is it?" Leon pressed.

"Something from the Veil?" Lancelot posited. "That Uther allowed a conduit for? Maybe a possession?"

Gwen's blood ran cold at that thought.

Gaius's lips pressed together tightly. "I suppose it's possible, but I don't know how we would determine if that's the case. I also don't know if we have the time to spare on it."

They all shared grim looks at that. It was true; they were woefully vulnerable, their only defense against the Wraiths destroyed, their light spinning now more of a liability than an asset. Gwen was loath to abandon Camelot, though.

"We can return to the Crystal Cave," she said. "Get another crystal, like we did before. Maybe more than one."

"Would more than one really make a difference?" Leon said doubtfully.

"We have to try, don't we?"

"We do," Elyan agreed.

"Perhaps the Crystal Cave can cure Arthur of whatever malady he has," Percival added.

Gwen nodded; they could only hope.

So they set off to find Arthur, checking the vault first. To Gwen's dismay, he was ransacking it again.

"What are you doing?" Elyan asked carefully.

"If you're going to insist on living underground like rats, I might as well do it here," Arthur replied harshly.

Gwen swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice calm. "We're going to journey to the Crystal Cave to get more crystals to defend the city, and hopefully be strong enough to fight the demon."

Arthur paused in his picking through the treasure. "The Crystal Cave," he repeated slowly.

Gwen nodded, feeling sick. It truly did feel as though she weren't speaking to her husband, but another being wearing his face. "We've only ever taken one crystal," she went on. "Because that's all we needed. But this time we'll take more. As the birthplace of magic, surely it will be enough to destroy the demon."

Arthur looked thoughtful for a moment before he abruptly dropped his armful of jewels. "Good plan. I will accompany you."

Gwen's shoulders loosened with relief. They had been hoping he'd agree to come so they wouldn't have to force it.

"Good," Gwaine repeated. "Let's go."

They geared up and set out. It would have been faster if they could ride their animal spirits, but they didn't want to risk drawing the demon to them—or to the Crystal Cave. So they took four horses, riding double for the most part. That would slow their pace so as not to overwork the horses but still be faster than on foot. At the last moment, Gwen had abruptly decided to mount up behind her brother instead of with Arthur. Arthur didn't even comment on it.

It was a fraught journey, everyone tense around Arthur, no doubt wondering what kind of spirit could have possessed him. Gwen was so wrapped up in those thoughts that she didn't notice anything amiss until Elyan's voice quietly spoke,

"There aren't any spirit seeds."

She snapped to attention and looked around. Sure enough, the Valley of the Fallen Kings was utterly dark. No faint pinpricks of light that had peppered the valley the last times they'd been here. Gwen was getting a bad feeling as they drew closer to the cave. As they rounded a copse of trees, her breath caught in her throat.

The cave entrance was gone, smashed in and gouged as though by a massive force. The demon. They all dismounted and hurried forward, attempting to pick their way over the wreckage. Arthur followed more languidly. The tunnel had been completely clawed out, exposing the Crystal Cave within through gaping crags. Everything was dark. The crystals that had grown in the cavern had been either shattered or stood utterly dark, sucked dry by the demon that had gotten here before them. Probably before it had even attacked Camelot, given how much it had grown since their first encounter.

They all stood in shock and devastation. Their last hope was gone. They'd never stood a chance. Elyan knelt down and picked through some of the broken shards as though searching for one that might still hold some light. But Gwen could feel the hollow emptiness of the place. The deadness.

"You fools," Arthur spat.

Gwen spun toward him, slack jawed and gaping.

"Excuse me?" Gwaine said darkly.

"This place was the seat of power in this world, and you left it unguarded? Now look at it!"

"Do you really think a guard post would have made a difference?" Gwaine snapped back.

Gwen stood there, a horrible feeling carving out a hollow in her stomach as she watched Arthur rail on them for a decision he had made himself.

"You're not Arthur," she declared.

Elyan ducked his head toward her. "We're doing this here?" he hissed.

"Of course I am," the imposter snapped. And he was an imposter, had been since that morning in the council chambers. With the broken mirror…

But listening to him now, how he spoke, Gwen's instincts were screaming.

"You're Uther."

The others gaped at her.

"What?" Leon blurted.

Arthur's eyes narrowed with a dangerous expression.

"Arthur chose not to post a guard here," Gwen went on. "He would never endanger lives at an outpost like that. He values every single one of his people, and wouldn't consider them battle fodder to protect him." She felt sick as all the pieces slotted together. "And before, when you said, were we cowards or knights—knights is a term of the old days. Of Uther's days."

The others stiffened as they began to see it too. They weren't dealing with some random possession by a spirit in the Veil. They were dealing with Uther Pendragon, the destroyer of the world.

Arthur—Uther—stared back at them for several taut moments. Then he dropped the facade and lifted his chin.

"So I am. Now kneel before your king."