A puff of air billowed out in front of Merlin as he drew his hands close to his mouth to try and warm them. It had been his idea to do this at night when they were less likely to be seen, but the temperature had dropped considerably since that afternoon, and a piece of him was now regretting that decision.

Stamping his feet a couple of times, Merlin tilted his head to stare up at the sky, spotting a few stars through the clouds and light pollution. The park near the university had always been a place of peace for him; somewhere he could let his mind and body rest. Now, however, it just caused him anxiety as he waited for the shadows to reveal his enemy.

A sudden buzzing against his leg drew him from his thoughts, and Merlin dug his phone from his pocket to check the notification.

'She's in.' It read, right beneath Arthur's nametag.

A sigh of relief left the warlock then, more air billowing out in a white cloud, and he slid his phone back into his pocket. Small miracles did still happen, and Morgana not shutting Arthur out immediately, or trying to kill him, was definitely one of them.

Still, their night wasn't over, and he had yet to hear from the knights about how each of their tasks had gone. Hopefully no one had been caught, because he wasn't certain he'd be able to bail them out if so.

Scratching at his forehead, the sound of rustling clothing made the man tense, and he heard his name spoken quietly into the night. "Merlin."

Straightening his shoulders, the warlock turned and spotted a man approaching, his dark coat and jeans along with the black beanie pulled over his head making him blend perfectly into the night.

"Mordred." Merlin nodded, hoping he didn't sound as stiff as he felt while looking at him.

"How did it go?" The druid asked, rubbing his hands together anxiously while looking the man up and down.

"Not well," Merlin uttered dryly, allowing a small frown to tighten his features. "Haven't you seen the news?"

"Of course I did, that's not something you can escape hearing around here." Mordred gave a small laugh while offering the warlock a sheepish smile. "But certainly Morgana wasn't a part of that, right? She couldn't have been."

"She was." Merlin spoke, his shoulders slouching as if having to deliver the news was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. "We were too late to help her. Or stop her. She has the sword."

"No.." Mordred breathed out, anguish clear on his face.

As he dropped to a bench nearby, Merlin had the sudden thought of what pathetic shows they were each putting on for the other. Was there really a point to it all, to these silly charades? Perhaps he'd grown too old, or too weary, but the games he once was willing to play just seemed foolish to him now.

"I so badly wanted to help her." Mordred moaned, his face now buried in his hands while Merlin stood off and just watched him.

"Did you?" The warlock finally asked, unable to take any more of the false blubbering from the man.

"What?" Mordred sniffed, looking up and blinking at the man.

"Why the games, Mordred?" Merlin sighed, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets.

"Games?"

"Why send us to that museum when you already had planned to steal the sword before we were even able? Was it to rub it in our faces? Prove you were more capable?"

Sitting up straighter, Mordred rubbed a hand under his nose and sniffed again, staring up at the warlock as if he were heartless. "I don't know what you're talking about. I told you about Morgana so that you could help her, that's it."

"You think I believe that?" Merlin snapped, his hands balling into fists in his pockets as he took a step closer.

"What are you trying to get at here, Merlin?" The druid demanded, sitting up straight as the distressed expression began to morph into what Merlin had been waiting for. Anger.

"I'm trying to say that this whole thing has been a ploy. A setup. A distraction so that we wouldn't look closer at what you've been doing."

"And what exactly have I been doing?"

"Manipulating the playing field."

Mordred rose, his eyes flashing in the dim light. "What are you accusing me of, Merlin?"

"How did you get your memories back?" The warlock asked, taking another step closer. "Better yet, how are you even alive?"

"The same way everyone else is." The man scoffed, but Merlin could see the way his eyes darted about, trying to think up an answer.

"And how is that?"

"The waters of Avalon, of course." Mordred stated, stepping closer himself and leaving only a few feet between them.

"And where did you get it?" Merlin asked, arching a brow at him.

"The lake." Mordred said tersely, and a small smile crept over Merlin's face.

"That's wrong."

"Excuse me?"

Pointing a finger behind them, Merlin shook his head. "The waters of Avalon flow only into that fountain from an underwater channel kept alive by magic. The real Lake Avalon dried up years ago."

"It's magic either way, who cares if I forgot where the water came from, it's the same source regardless." Mordred was floundering, and Merlin could see it as plain as day. No more games.

"Why are you here, Mordred? Why do you want Excalibur so badly?"

The druid's mouth opened, and then closed, and all false emotion dropped from him until all that remained was a hard gleam in his eye. "I want to rule Albion."

"You'll never." It was Merlin's turn to scoff, and anger like he'd only seen in his past enveloped the other man's face.

"With that sword I can, and I will."

"What do you expect to do? Just walk up to the Queen herself and proclaim to be King Arthur reincarnated? I'm certain they won't lock you away for being mad, not at all." Merlin's voice dripped with sarcasm as he threw his hands out with a short laugh.

"Don't be an idiot." Mordred spat, glowering at the warlock. "That's what magic is for."

"You have magic here?" Merlin questioned, his tone sobering slightly as he studied the shorter man watching him.

"Same as you." Mordred lifted his chin, and for the first time that evening a true smile tugged at his lips.

"How? Magic is dead in this new world, at least what used to be the old magic is."

"I cultivated it. There's always magic, Merlin. You just have to know where to find it and know how to help it grow."

"I don't believe you." The warlock scowled. "I've traveled this world over the years, and I've never come across any magic that even came close to what we used to have."

"You don't have to believe me, but I know you had to deal with that trap I set, I heard the reports of the blood left behind." Mordred's smirk grew, and Merlin glared.

"You'll never win." He promised.

"Why? Because you don't think I'm capable?"

"Because you're alone and outnumbered." Merlin countered, only for Mordred to full out smile at him, his teeth glittering in the starlight.

"Oh, but I'm not alone." Stepping aside and beckoning with his hand, Merlin watched as another shadow slowly emerged from the trees.

"Gwen?" Merlin asked, bewilderment racing through him as the young woman moved closer until she stood next to Mordred.

"I have her." The druid stated, holding out his hand as Gwen took it and wove her fingers between his.

"What—why—" Merlin's words failed him, his mind racing to come up with some sort of answer.

She looked alright, not hurt or scared. In fact, she looked strong and confident as she stood there holding hands with the same man who had killed her husband in a past life.

"What have you done to her?" Merlin demanded, only for Guinevere to be the one to snort in disbelief.

"Nothing happened, Merlin. I love him." Leaning closer, the woman pressed her lips against Mordred's cheek and smiled as she pulled away.

"What about Arthur?" The warlock asked, his voice gruff while his heart pounded away in his chest. "Or even Lancelot? Do neither of them mean anything to you? Do I not mean anything to you?"

"Haven't you realized yet? Those were all ploys, all games, to get you here." Mordred was practically beaming.

"And where is here?"

"The place where you finally die."

Merlin couldn't help but snort, and he enjoyed the brief look of confusion on Mordred's face for it. "I've lived far too long to be afraid of empty threats."

"Really?" The druid asked, letting go of Gwen's hand and rubbing at his chin in exaggerated thought. "Tell me, oh great old and wise warlock. Do you know what happens when you combine modern technology with magic?"

Merlin didn't speak for a moment, not liking where things were headed. The truth was that except for what was needed to make the potions that kept him young and healthy, Merlin hadn't done much with his magic. Not since Camelot. There had been no reason.

"I've not experimented much, no. Why, have you?" He finally asked, and Mordred shook his head as if he were disappointed.

"You've had all this power, and you just let it go to waste. What a disgrace to magic." Clapping his hands together suddenly, the druid waved a hand towards Guinevere. "Luckily, I have."

Drawing her hands from her pocket, Guinevere pulled out a small pistol with one and pointed it straight at the warlock while bracing it with her other.

"Where did you get that?" Merlin asked, suddenly on guard. "Those aren't legal here, you shouldn't even have that thing."

"Like he said, the beauty of modern technology and magic." Guinevere shrugged, her hands all too steady with the weapon pointed at the warlock.

"Gwen, please. It's me. Why are you doing this?" Merlin asked, his voice low and pleading as he stared right into her dark eyes.

"I'm ensuring that we rule Albion and rid ourselves of any pests who get in our way." She claimed, and the man winced.

It was Gwen's voice and her body, but her words and eyes were so full of hate. It wasn't really Guinevere. It couldn't be.

"What have you done to her?" Merlin grit out, still staring at the woman but directing his question at the druid.

"Nothing." Mordred laughed. "She was frustrated, hurt even, that you all seemed to forget about her. Wasn't she a part of your stories too, once upon a time?"

"It's different now, though." Guinevere uttered, her words calm and controlled as she kept the gun leveled at the warlock. "I'm no longer some maiden in distress. I'm not just Arthur's wife, or a toy for Lancelot."

"You don't have to do this." Merlin urged, trying to find some piece of the woman he had once known and loved.

"No, but I want to."

"But—" Merlin's sentence never finished, instead, it was cut off by the echoing sound of a shot going off.

He never even saw the bullet, but he felt the pain when it hit. It entered his left side, and pain exploded through his body.

Falling to the ground from the force and agony combined, Merlin struggled to even wheeze in. It was as if a fire had ignited under his skin, eating and burning through every muscle and nerve and bone it crossed. Pain unlike anything he'd felt made his vision go dark and his mind void of anything but pain.

Through squinted eyes filled with dark spots that were growing larger with each passing second, Merlin saw Mordred lean over him with a proud smile fixed in place. Gwen on the other hand, leaning over him on his other side, wore no emotion at all.

"Albion is mine, Merlin." Mordred spoke, though his voice had taken on the echoed quality of someone in a faraway tunnel. "You won't be able to stop me, and you won't be here to help your friends."

Merlin tried to speak, tried to fight, but the only noise that came from his mouth was some semblance of a groan. He was fading fast, his body cold despite the warmth seeping through his clothes and into the ground. And finally, he could no longer take it, not the pain or the cold or the darkness creeping in. So he gave in, and Merlin wished he could apologize to Arthur for being so weak, before everything faded into nothing.

A/N

We're down to just a couple of chapters left! Three, in fact (I think) so I hope you guys are ready for an all out battle filled with adventure, loss, and absurd amounts of angst! Thanks for reading and I'll see you all soon!