Welcome back, LIC readers! I think I've already said pretty much everything that needs to be said about this story at the end of the previous one, so we can dive right in after getting some necessary preliminaries out of the way.

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Merlin or Lost Girl.

Warnings: sexual content, some language and typical medieval-fantasy violence, but nothing worse than we saw in either of the shows that inspired this crossover, or in Lost In Camelot. If that didn't scare you off, you should be fine here.

"If I never see another cave for the rest of my life," Morgana declared, "it'll be too soon." She, Merlin, Bo, and Dyson had slept in a number of them over the last three weeks (at least, that was her best estimate of the time that had elapsed since their departure from Camelot; after traveling for so long through uncharted wilderness without seeing another living soul outside their little party, the days were all starting to blend together), and now they were camping in yet another, huddled around a small fire while they ate their meager evening meal.

Her companions didn't seem to share her displeasure, however. "At least we're on solid ground," the wolf replied with a shrug. "It's better than those times Kilgharrah insisted on flying straight through the night."

"I suppose," Morgana reluctantly agreed. Eating nothing except what they already had with them – at first that had been the provisions Merlin had brought from Camelot, but those had run out several days ago despite their efforts to supplement their rations with whatever they could find when they landed, so now they were down to the edible plants and berries Merlin had gathered, and dried meat from Dyson's kills – and sleeping in shifts so they could watch each other in order to ensure that none of them slipped off the dragon's back certainly wasn't enjoyable.

"We make better progress when we don't stop overnight, though," Merlin pointed out, before casting a dour look at the rain pouring down outside the mouth of their latest temporary haven. "Still, it wouldn't do Bo any good to be out in that."

"How is she?" Morgana asked, her distaste for their surroundings evaporating when she took in the terse, anxious tone of Merlin's voice. Although she tried not to dwell on it, and had done her best to avoid facing the grim reality by leaving Bo's care to Merlin and Dyson more and more often, she knew the succubus' condition was worsening.

"Not good," Merlin answered grimly. "Come over here."

She didn't really want to, but refusing would be cowardly, so she reluctantly moved over to the other side of their small fire where Merlin sat, holding Bo upright beside him. This close, there was no denying what she'd tried to pretend she didn't see for the last week or so: Bo's face, already so bloodless that she looked more like a wax sculpture than a living being, was definitely thinner, the hollows under her eyes deeper, and the harsh contrast of light and shadow cast by the flickering firelight only made it more obvious.

After taking in the disturbing sight, Morgana looked up at Merlin with eyes filled with horror and sadness, but it wasn't Bo's wasted visage he wanted to draw her attention to. "Listen."

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be listening to, but after a moment of silence broken only by the crackle of burning firewood, she heard it: a faint rattling noise that accompanied every breath Bo took.

"That's pneumonia setting in," Merlin informed her.

"Pneumonia?" she repeated with a worried frown. "Why?"

He shrugged in response, though not carelessly. "This damp, chilly weather we've had to deal with isn't helping, but mostly I think it's just because she's getting weaker. Look at this."

He pulled back the cloak that shrouded her inert form even in the refuge of the cave, then the white fur wrap Morgana had dug out from among her older items of clothing to give Bo an extra layer of protection during their travels (which wasn't entirely white anymore, despite their best efforts at keeping themselves clean), and finally pushed up the sleeve of the woolen dress Gwen had given them, correctly pointing out that it would be warmer than the leathers Bo typically donned when she ventured beyond the castle's walls or the silks and satins she wore inside them. Beneath all those layers was a long scratch on her arm that she'd sustained when it scraped against Kilgharrah's scales during one of their many mounts and dismounts.

"But that happened days ago," Morgana said, her frown deepening as she examined the strip of raw skin. "Even if she only healed at a normal rate, it should be nearly gone by now."

"She isn't healing, though. We already know she can't feed like this, and the effects are getting worse than just her not being able to heal instantly like she used to. I've tried to get as much food into her as I can, but it's not enough. She needs chi; I think her body's starting to fail without it."

"What can we do?" Morgana asked, wondering even as she spoke whether it was a rhetorical question. They had already experimented with kissing Bo just enough to confirm that she was unable to draw on their chi in her current state; after establishing that, neither of them had been willing to go further while she was unconscious, deprived of her capacity to consent to or even know what was being done to her.

Merlin shrugged again, meeting her fearful gaze with a helpless look. "We can get her to the Blood King and pray he really can break the curse, but we'd better do it soon, because I don't think she has much time left."

With that dire pronouncement, he went back to spooning gruel into Bo's mouth and massaging her throat to make her swallow, following it up with some water. When he had finished her nightly feeding, he took out a cloth and washed her face – the wet weather may not have done anything to improve Bo's health, but it had provided an ample supply of water – before laying her down as close to the fire as he could get her without placing her or her blanket in danger of getting singed.

"Come on, we might as well try to get some sleep."

"If Bo needs an extra blanket, you can have mine," Dyson offered. "I've-"

"Made do with less, we know," Morgana interrupted. No matter how miserable the conditions they had to endure – and there had been worse nights than this, when they weren't able to find any shelter at all from the elements – the lycanthropic warrior always seemed to have a tale about how he'd been in equally harsh circumstances with fewer supplies, and usually with enemy troops nearby, ready to ambush him and his comrades at any moment. Merlin had also had his fair share of experience with traveling rough, which was all well and good for them, but for Morgana, who had never been on such a long journey without the comforts afforded to a noblewoman, her companions' constant refrain of 'it could be worse' was small consolation.

"Well, we didn't all grow up in castles with our meals served on silver trays and perfumed silk sheets to sleep on every night," the wolf retorted, a teasing glint in his eyes taking the sting out of words that might have sounded harsh otherwise. When they first started out, he had wondered how long it would take for her to start complaining about the lack of all the luxuries she was accustomed to, but he was actually quite impressed with how well she had handled the perils and privations they'd encountered.

Morgana responded by sticking out her tongue, a wonderfully expressive gesture she'd seen Kenzi use to great effect. It was dreadfully improper for a lady, of course, but after giving up the comforts she had enjoyed as Uther's ward, she certainly wasn't going to continue abiding by the restrictions that life had forced on her. She was determined to make the most of her freedom…for however long it lasted.

The tiny spark of playfulness that had briefly lightened her gloomy mood was suddenly extinguished as Merlin's grim prediction about how little time Bo had echoed inside her head, reminding her that their odyssey across Albion and the liberties it allowed them to take needed to end soon, or it would all be for nothing. She saw Dyson's face fall at exactly the same instant and guessed he was thinking the same thing. The three of them had shared some lighthearted moments while they traveled together, but the gravity of their purpose had always loomed over them much like the seemingly endless rain clouds, and Merlin's warning had just added a new sense of urgency that quickly stifled their attempts at humor.

Realizing he was responsible for putting even more of a damper on the evening's atmosphere than the relentless rain already had, Merlin took it on himself to break the somewhat tense silence that had set in, as if Morgana and Dyson both felt guilty for daring to joke around even a little when Bo might die in a matter of days. "Thanks for the offer, but you can keep your blanket. I think Morgana and I can keep Bo warm enough."

He quickly cleaned their bowls and then laid down beside Bo, curling his body around hers in order to share as much of his body heat with her as possible. Morgana followed suit, pressing in close on Bo's other side while Dyson bedded down in the far corner of the cave. With their arms wrapped around the insensate form between them, Merlin's and Morgana's hands soon found one another just as they did every night, their fingers interlocking in a silent quest for mutual reassurance that they weren't alone, that everything would be all right as long as they were together.

Morgana usually took comfort in her lovers' presence, in being able to be this close to them without anyone judging or condemning her for loving two people society had deemed inappropriate matches for a high-born lady…but tonight, as Merlin's ominous words ran through her mind yet again and the rattling sound of Bo's breathing seemed to grow louder in the stillness of the night, she found herself unable to relax, and sleep eluded her until long after the fire had burned down to its last embers.

###

When they awoke the next morning, the rain had died down to a gentle patter, and although Merlin was loath to take Bo out into it, he decided that the consequences of losing time waiting for it to stop completely would be worse. Upon leaving the cave, however, they found that Kilgharrah, who had simply covered himself with his wings during the worst of the storm – after being imprisoned in a cave for so long, he refused to enter another even for the purpose of seeking shelter, and this one was much too small for him anyway – didn't seem to share Merlin's eagerness to be off, as the Great Dragon did not crouch down for his passengers to climb aboard as he normally did.

"Tell me, young warlock," he said by way of greeting, "do you notice anything unusual about this cliff before us?"

This strange, seemingly pointless question brought a frown to the sorcerer's face as he cast a quick glance up at the towering wall of rock in front of them, which stretched so high that its top disappeared into the clouds. If he didn't know better, he might even think there was no top at all, that it simply went on forever.

"It's the tallest I've ever seen," he said impatiently, "but so what? We need to get moving."

Kilgharrah nodded his enormous head. "The most direct path to our destination is a pass that leads through these mountains."

"Great." Merlin scanned the cliff face once more, reaffirming his initial impression that it extended as far as the eye could see in every direction. "How far are we from this pass?"

"It is less than five feet to your left, young warlock, but it is protected by powerful magic. Can you not sense it? Do not look with your eyes, but with your mind." He glanced over to where Morgana waited with Bo and Dyson. "You as well, witch; you possess the seer's gift. Let us put your Sight to the test."

Morgana didn't particularly want to play along with the dragon's games, but she suspected he wasn't going to let them move forward until she did. Besides, she had to admit that she was rather curious about the magic protecting this mysterious land they had searched so long for. She came to stand beside Merlin, and together the two of them closed their eyes and reached out with the magical senses they were still developing, much like they did when they communicated with one another over longer distances, although this time they focused on the cliff face rather than each other.

After a minute or two, they both felt something – not a sentient presence, but there were definitely traces of magic there. Merlin took out the spell book Gaius had given him when he first arrived in Camelot – it was the only item he'd brought with him more for sentimental reasons than practical ones, though he'd had a hunch it might come in handy at some point – and looked up an incantation for revealing hidden things, which he cast on the area where the magical residue seemed to be concentrated. A strange rune shimmered into view on the rock, its lines glowing faintly with the power they held.

The shadow of Kilgharrah's long neck fell over them as he leaned in to inspect it. "As I expected," he pronounced at length, "we must pay a toll if we wish to travel this route."

"We're not talking about those gold coins Morgana brought, are we?" Merlin asked apprehensively.

"Very astute, young warlock," Kilgharrah replied with the barest hint of sarcasm, though it sounded so much like his regular tone that only someone who knew him well could detect it. "Opening this passage will require blood both royal and magical. Hers will do." He nodded toward where Bo lay on a cloak that had been hastily spread out for her when it became apparent that they would not be taking off in a matter of minutes.

Morgana followed his gaze, then whirled around to glare at him. "Absolutely not! We are not using Bo as some sort of…of blood sacrifice!"

"A few drops will suffice," he clarified impatiently. "One small prick of her finger and it will be done."

"Sure, it's only a little prick," Merlin retorted, "until it doesn't heal, the wound festers, and we end up having to cut her whole hand off!"

Morgana turned her horrified stare on him, but before she could get any more overwrought, Dyson spoke up. "No one's getting their hand cut off," he said calmly. "Is there any other way into the Blood King's lands?"

"There are many," Kilgharrah answered, turning his large golden eyes on the wolf, "though all would add at least another week to our journey."

"Bo doesn't have another week," Morgana snapped. "Let's look in your book, Merlin; surely it must have a spell for breaking magical barriers."

As it turned out, there were half a dozen such spells in Merlin's book – none of which made the slightest dent in whatever enchantments concealed the mountain pass.

"Fae magic is very different from yours, and the Blood King's power is immense," Kilgharrah commented after watching them try unsuccessfully to penetrate the barrier for the better part of an hour. "I do not believe you will be able to break the protections he has set in place with mere words."

Morgana scowled at him; her magical exertions had left her tired, sweaty in spite of the cool drizzle that continued to sprinkle down on her, frustrated enough to scream, and so discouraged that she was almost ready to fling herself down on the ground and never get up again, and seeing the dragon lying there with his legs folded beneath him and his tail curled around him like a cat, watching her and Merlin like they were jesters or fools putting on a show for his amusement didn't help one bit. "So you've said," she growled, "many times already."

"Perhaps this time you will listen," Kilgharrah replied in an infuriatingly serene, condescending manner that only increased her desire to scream – or better yet, to hex him.

Unfortunately, she doubted that the strongest curse she could muster would give the gargantuan beast so much as a mild headache, and even if she could hurt him it would do no good to damage their only means of transport, so she contented herself with throwing a venomous glare his way before channeling her anger at his unhelpfulness into a renewed assault on the barrier. Merlin, who had cast his own spells in concert with hers during their previous attempts, merely gave her a weary look from the boulder where he'd sat down to rest, but although she knew her chances of succeeding alone where the two of them together had failed were dismal at best, she continued venting her helpless fury on the impassive and seemingly very solid cliff, hurling spell after spell at it until her magic was thoroughly depleted.

At last, when she was too exhausted to levitate a single pebble, she staggered forward and slammed her hand against the rune whose magical glow seemed to be taunting her, yelping in pain as a sharp edge on the rock where it was painted sliced her palm.

Merlin and Dyson jumped to their feet when they heard her cry out, but before either of them could ask her what was the matter, an amazing sight distracted them. The vast expanse of stone rippled like a mirage in the desert and transformed before their eyes, revealing that the cliff, while still soaring to dizzying heights, did not extend endlessly into the sky. Better yet, a pass became visible, providing a clear path through the lofty peaks.

"How did you do that?" Merlin asked breathlessly, staring at Morgana in astonishment. Although he hadn't listened closely, he was fairly certain that the spells she had bombarded the barrier with were the same ones they had already tried in unison with no results.

"I- I don't know," she stammered, gaping at the passage that had materialized in the impenetrable wall of stone, which had looked and felt so real just a moment ago. Then, as she flexed her fingers, a sharp pain in her right palm reminded her of what she had done immediately prior to the barrier's opening, the only thing that could have precipitated its unexpected response. "Oh… I cut my hand."

She held it up to show him, and he quickly took it in both of his, making her hiss in discomfort as he gently probed the wound. "It's not a deep cut, thank goodness, but it still needs cleaning. Let me take care of it."

As Merlin released her and went to rummage in his bag for the things he needed to disinfect and bandage her cut, Dyson set aside the dagger he'd been sharpening while Merlin and Morgana waged their fruitless assault on the enchanted cliff and walked over to examine the rune, its shimmer now dulled by the streak of red that cut through it. Then he looked over at Morgana, his brow knit in a puzzled frown.

"How did this open the passage? I know you have magical blood, but you're not royalty, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Morgana said softly, a trace of unease flickering across her features as she realized that, according to Kilgharrah's interpretation of the enchantment that had sealed the pass, her blood shouldn't have satisfied its requirements. Then she brushed those concerns aside; surely all that mattered was that their way ahead was clear, regardless of how it had been accomplished.

"I am a king's ward, though," she added, tossing her long braid back over her shoulder as her customary confidence returned. "Everyone said I was like a daughter to Uther. Besides, my father Gorlois fought by his side when he conquered Camelot and was instrumental in his victory; some even said that if right of conquest was the sole determining factor in who wore the crown, my father could've had a claim to rival Uther's if he hadn't been such a loyal friend that he stepped aside without hesitation. Perhaps the barrier somehow recognized these things and decided I was close enough to royalty for it to accept my blood as its toll. Anyway, what does it matter how it happened? The important thing is that we're closer than ever to reaching our destination, and saving Bo."

"You're right," Dyson agreed at once, putting his questions and doubts out of his mind. "That's all that matters."

"That and making sure your hand doesn't get infected," Merlin added, coming back with a bottle of some potion which he proceeded to pour over her wound, making her wince at the stinging sensation it produced. "We can figure out why the barrier accepted Morgana's blood later." Like Dyson, he was curious about the apparent contradiction, but preferred to keep his focus on more pressing matters.

None of them noticed the pensive look in Kilgharrah's slightly narrowed eyes or the thoughtful tilt of his head as he watched Morgana, but whatever was going through his mind, the dragon kept it to himself.

###

They flew straight through the next two days and nights without stopping – even when, on the second night, the rain that seemed to follow them wherever they went intensified into a downpour, forcing them to pull their cloaks tight around themselves and hunker down against Kilgharrah's warm scales as he fought his way through the buffeting winds. Dawn brought a gradual slackening of the deluge, until at last it stopped altogether, leaving only a dense cloud cover.

Morgana wondered if she dared ask Kilgharrah to land, to give them a short respite in which to grab a bite to eat without their food immediately getting drenched and change into dry clothes, but the way he had doggedly pushed on through the storm made her think such a request was unlikely to be granted now that conditions had improved. Besides, she sensed that they must be getting close, that the reason Kilgharrah was so determined to keep going was because he didn't want to stop when the end of their journey was almost in sight.

Finally, as the sun neared its peak, the dragon swooped down and alit on a rocky outcropping overlooking a large valley. "There it is."

As he spoke, the clouds parted, allowing a shaft of sunlight to illuminate the stunning vista below: wooded slopes leading down to a sparkling blue lake with a land bridge cutting through it, creating several waterfalls where the lake cascaded down from one level to another, and there, rising up from amid those waterfalls and the trees that grew wherever they could find a place flat enough to take root, stood a magnificent castle. Its architectural design was similar to the royal palace in Camelot, but where Camelot's castle was a tight grouping of towers built around a central courtyard, this one was more spread out, its various levels connected by stone walkways that spanned the entire width of the lake, which gave it the appearance of being larger. There were no walls enclosing it either, with the lake and the mountainous terrain all around providing a natural deterrent to would-be invaders.

"Oh," Morgana breathed, taking in the sight with wide eyes. "It's beautiful!"

She was right, Merlin thought; it certainly looked like a fitting abode for a powerful fae monarch and his court of supernatural beings. Still, as he gazed down at the place where they hoped to find Bo's salvation, he couldn't help recalling the feelings of awe and wonder he'd experienced when he saw Camelot for the first time…right up to the moment he walked into the courtyard and witnessed a man being executed for practicing magic. He could only hope – perhaps foolishly, given what Kenzi had told him regarding life among the fae – that no similarly unpleasant surprises awaited them in the Blood King's realm.

Just keep hoping for that, Merlin. Of course, we all know that with the fae, there's bound to be plenty of surprises…not to mention the real reason why Morgana was able to break an enchantment that required royal blood… But for now, let's just take a moment to be glad our heroes' journey is almost over (in case my description didn't do it justice, there's a link on my profile to the picture I'm using as my inspiration for Trick's castle). Check it out, it really is gorgeous.

Next chapter should be up in 20-30 days; I promise I'll get it done as fast as I can without outsourcing my writing to AI, haha.