Here it is, the final chapter. Thank you to all who have reviewed! This is a slightly different style than I'm used to, so I love opinions. Like I said, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got away from me pretty fast. I thought about uploading it as one anyway, but I know I personally would rather have it broken into sections. Let me know what you prefer!

One issue I'd like to clear up: Why did Morgana keep Arthur alive? In essence, she thinks he'll suffer more if he has to watch his entire world crumble than if he dies, and she's right. She doesn't really consider him much of a threat, since Morgause is so strong and she has her own corrupt little brand of guards that will keep him from trying anything... until now, of course. It's like her keeping Uther alive in S3; she wants to gloat that he wasn't strong enough to protect Camelot from his worst fear. Except in this story, she kills Uther and gloats to Arthur instead.

Enough of my rambling; enjoy!

.X.x.X.

"What makes you think I am so easily swayed?" demanded the queen, chin held high in defiance. "I will not betray everything I believe in no matter what you propose to tell me!"

Sick of standing in one spot, Arthur finally moved from his position next to the window and instead inspected the contents of the bookshelf on the adjoining wall. Morgana's barrier kept him from accessing more than half of the contents, but most of them sported titles in the indecipherable letters of the Old Religion.

"Betrayal is nothing new to you, so why not?" he asked with a hint of sadness. "That's not really the point, though. When I'm done, you won't think of it as betrayal. You'll realize that what you've done all along is wrong."

"Oh?" Morgana sneered. "And why is that?"

The dragon, having remained silent for so long, frightened her when its giant head swung back into view. In a deep rumble, it told her, "You have seen the consequences of your actions and felt neither regret nor mercy. The Witch Morgause and your hatred for Uther's crimes have you blinded you to your own. See now the true damage you have caused in your world, and decide for yourself if you will continue down your path."

The room slid sideways out of Morgana's vision, to be replaced by a familiar sight: the throne room. In the royal seat was a middle-aged version of herself, head bent and shoulders slumped. A guard stood on either side of her, backs straight and helmets obscuring their faces. She glanced around, uncertain, and said, "Hello?"

The older Morgana did not look up. Morgana's heels clicked against the floor as she approached her future and shook her shoulder gently. At least, she tried to, but found that her fingers passed right through.

A man cleared his throat behind her. Morgana spun around, noticing as she did so that her older self finally displayed some signs of life.

It was Mordred, but unlike the boy she'd knighted out of loyalty, he was tall, fierce, and frightening, even to her. His blue eyes pierced her even though she knew she must be invisible to him. He reminded her of the way Merlin had appeared these last four months, only Mordred was under no enchantment.

"Morgana," Mordred said, and bowed. A sword was slung at his hip; he must have been trained to fight like a real knight, though she couldn't imagine why. "Merlin has succumbed completely. He shows no signs of awareness now."

"You have done well, my son," cooed the seated queen. Morgana's eyes widened. She cared for Mordred even now, but since when had she taken to calling him her son? "Rise, Mordred; you need not bow before me. My heir will not stoop like a commoner when he approaches his mother on the throne."

Mordred stood as commanded. "Very well, Mother. Have you considered my earlier suggestion about what exactly to do with the old wizard?" His eyes gleamed. The malice in his voice made Morgana distinctly uncomfortable.

Queen Morgana laughed hoarsely. Her voice seemed damaged somehow, and now that Morgana saw her face, it appeared that her beauty had faded into something sallow and withered. "Oh, Mordred, I hardly think it will be necessary to use poor Merlin for kindling. There are plenty of other trees in the kingdom."

Trees? Merlin was a tree?

She glanced out a window, as though something outside would confirm the realization, and what she saw made her heart twist.

Her elder self's declaration that there were plenty of other trees for kindling was not entirely founded. While it would have been easily true in the Camelot Morgana remembered, the land outside was dead and void of color. It was brown, barren wasteland.

Her breath catching, Morgana's only desire was to get away, and in an instant, the scenery changed, but not for the better. She was in the lower town now, outside the Rising Sun tavern, and she was utterly alone. It was midday, the time when the streets were meant to be alive and flourishing with trade. Yet, not a single shop was open, not a single soul made noise.

The door to someone's house opened, and a little boy burst out of it, chasing down a cat that happened to creep by. His mother followed a heartbeat later, hissing, "Tobias, get back in here! If one of the soldiers sees you, you'll be executed!"

"Mother," whined the boy in a voice far louder than the woman's, "I'm hungry. When is father going to come back from hunting?"

The woman looked dangerously close to tears. "Oh, Toby," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Morgana had a bad feeling that whoever this boy's father was, he wasn't going to return from his hunting trip. If he even went hunting.

The boy and his mother disappeared back into their house, and soon the lower town disappeared altogether. Instead Morgana found herself at a lake. At first she thought she was alone again, but soon her eyes fell upon a girl no older than herself, with wavy brown hair cascading down her back and translucent skin. She stroked the trunk of a willow growing alongside the water.

"Word from Morgana arrived today," she whispered to the tree, and with a jolt, Morgana realized that the branches and knots were assembled in such a way that they looked vaguely like human characteristics. "She's doing what she can, but Mordred is stronger. She cannot openly defy him like she did Morgause."

Merlin, Morgana thought. It had to be. After all, there couldn't be that many trees that had once been people. For some reason, she wasn't as happy as she should have been that her nemesis was sealed somewhere in the bark.

The brown-haired girl continued to talk. "You have no idea how much she needs you right now. How much we all need you. Mordred is the only one whose magic has survived since he and Morgana locked you away. The only powers she still has are her nightmares." She closed her eyes. "I wish Avalon could prevent them from coming true."

The world dissolved back into Morgana's chambers, where she knelt on the ground, panting and shaking. The wall of magic had shattered, and the room's temperature was boiling. She concentrated on cooling it down again.

Arthur crouched down beside her and forced her to look at him. "The Dragon told me how it goes," he said quietly. "You kill me tonight, and then you and Mordred take Merlin by surprise. You spend years torturing him in the dungeon, until one night, he almost escapes. To make sure it doesn't happen again, you, Morgause, and Mordred curse him to stand beside the lake of Avalon forever, entombed in a tree. The curse combines with his magic and spreads through the roots as a poison. It kills everything in Camelot. You realize your mistake when it's far too late, and you confront Morgause. It gets out of hand, and you kill her... by accident," he added at the look on Morgana's face. "You lie to Mordred about why she died so he doesn't suspect. You make him your heir because he forces you to, and he as good as controls Camelot from that point on.

"You work with the High Priestesses in secret to try and free Merlin and undo the poison, but the poison in Merlin's magic, the poison Mordred is to blame for, chokes the Old Religion. Mordred's soul is so poisoned already that it only makes him stronger. In the end, my father is not the one who succeeds in destroying magic." Arthur sighed. "It's you."

Morgana's mind rebelled his words angrily. "Mordred is the one who imprisons him!" she cried desperately. "I try to fix it, you said so!"

Arthur's face was shadowed. "You do try to fix it," he agreed, "but you can't. Because of the choice you make tonight, and the choices that led you to kill my father and overthrow him in the first place, magic will be destroyed."

It took a long time for Morgana to calm down, but when she did, she asked in a shaky voice, "What is the choice I must make instead, then?"

.X.x.X.

For the first time, Lancelot felt scared at what Merlin - the real Merlin - could do. He knew that his friend would never use his powers for ill, but watching him in his duel against Morgause left him awe-struck.

Merlin's and Morgause's magic engaged in a complicated dance for dominance, and so far they were at an impasse. Blue eyes now seemed permanently gold, and not since the fight began had Lancelot heard a word he understood. The spells were carried out in quick succession, so fast he wondered how either managed to block them all. They were equals, Merlin's vast store of raw magic and Morgause's advantage of experience.

Lancelot stood off to the side, feeling useless with his sword in his hand. The scrap of metal meant nothing when it came to a fight against magic. He could lunge at Morgause and hope to distract her long enough for Merlin to overtake her, but his honor held him in place.

The roar of a dragon interrupted a fight that Lancelot suspected might have gone on forever. Morgause froze, and her eyes finally faded to their normal color. Merlin put his arm down, exhausted. "It's over, Morgause," he said, watching for her reaction. "Morgana has chosen to step down."

"Never!" Morgause drew a knife from within the sleeve of her dress, but it flew from her hand without a word from the warlock. "She would never turn against her sister!"

"She was always going to realize the truth. The only question was how much damage she had to cause before it happened."

With a screech of anger, Morgause's eyes blazed, and Merlin was thrown off his feet. He was thrown into the far wall, where he slid to the ground and did not move again. Lancelot finally intervened, his heart rate quickening at the sight of his unconscious friend, and hoping nothing more serious had befallen him.

"Don't," he said, raising his sword when Morgause moved toward Merlin's body. She sneered at him and raised her arm. "I meant it," he warned, remembering the little gold gem Merlin had given him. Slowly, Lancelot reached inside his pocket.

"Like you can stop me," she jeered. She started muttering a spell, and Lancelot knew that if he did not succeed now, he and Merlin both were doomed. "Forlor sé wæpenbora ond-"

She cut off with an agonized shriek as Lancelot threw the gem to the ground and brought the hilt of his sword crashing down on it. It shattered into a million pieces, glowing the deep golden color he associated with magic. Merlin jerked awake, yelling and squeezing his eyes shut again, curling against the wall with his fists clenched. His chest heaved with some unseen effort. He looked awful, but it was nothing compared to Morgause.

The sorceress clutched at her arms, drawing blood from the way her nails pierced the skin. She collapsed and writhed on the floor, tearing the cloth of her dress. The screams and sobs that tore from her throat did not cease until at last her eyes rolled up in her head, and she either passed out or died. Lancelot was not sure which, for he was busy at Merlin's side, trying to soothe the pained warlock.

"How do I stop it?" he asked desperately. Merlin wasn't screaming quite as much as Morgause, but a horrible sound burst forth every now and then.

"C-can't stop," he gasped. "Find - Kilgharrah-" And then he, like Morgause, went limp. Lancelot made sure he was still breathing before he ran from the room.

.X.x.X.

"She'll be all right," assured Tristan, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. When he, Morgana, and Percival had caught up with the others in Cenred's chambers, only to find Guinevere injured and unconscious, he had feared the worst. "It's not bleeding very badly, and her breathing is even."

Morgana, her eyes red, surveyed the damage. "Gwen," she whispered, putting a hand on her faithful maid's forehead. "I let this happen."

"You're making up for it," said Arthur. He did his best to aim his anger at Gwen's wound toward the underhanded guard who caused it. He should have looked at his half-sister and insisted that it wasn't her fault, but it would have cost him too much.

Without warning, Lancelot appeared, panting and skidding to a halt before the reinstated prince. "The dragon... we need-" He froze when he saw Gwen on the ground, Tristan kneeling beside her a pressing a cloth to the back of her head. The sight of the bloodstain, small though it was, made his own face drain of the substance. "What happened?" he croaked, unable to say more.

"She'll be fine," Gwaine recited. He was leaning against he wall, playing idly with the sword in his hand. "It's a shallow wound, she doesn't have a concussion, and if you had been here five seconds ago you would know that. Now, what were you saying about a dragon and needing something?"

Lancelot blinked, looking from Gwen's prone form to Gwaine's unconcerned one and suddenly remembered that another of his friends was in considerably more danger. With great difficulty, he pushed Gwen from his mind and blurted out, "Kilgharrah must fly to Morgause's tower at once! Something happened to Merlin when I..." He swallowed. "He told me to break something if it looked like he was going to lose, but when I did, it affected both of them. Morgause is dead, I think, and Merlin..." He shrugged slightly, the panic setting in again. "We have to go," he added desperately.

Arthur took Morgana by the arm and led her to the door. "Maybe there's something you can do about this." Then he turned to Lancelot and said, "In the future, when Merlin gives you something that he claims will save the day if there's no alternative, it probably means it's some kind of magical, self-sacrificial item the idiot made himself. My first act as the newly reappointed prince of Camelot is to order you to convince him never to do it again."

He took off at a run, Morgana following behind with less urgency, but still with a look of fear on her face. It occurred to Lancelot that he should have known all along what would happen if he did what Merlin asked; why else would it be a last resort?

He could only hope the dragon had a solution.

.X.x.X.

By the time they got there, the Great Dragon had already arrived. Merlin, still on the ground and comatose but no longer consumed by pure agony, groaned. The golden shards of the gem had vanished. "What was that thing?" Lancelot asked, still ashamed that he had not realized sooner what it would do.

"It was of Merlin's own making," replied Kilgharrah. His jaws barely fit in the window, which was much smaller than Morgana's. "It was a simple crystal, imbued with sorcery to poison the magic of anyone nearby."

Lancelot's mouth fell open. "How did he survive?"

The dragon, tired of being cramped in the small area, removed his mouth from the room entirely and spoke from outside the window. "Morgause was overcome quickly by the enchantment. The young warlock, however, has too much magic for it to have been so easily destroyed. I have purged the crystal of power; it is no longer a threat. Merlin will awaken soon enough."

With a flourish of wings, the Great Dragon hoisted himself higher into the air and flew away, leaving everyone with a strange feeling of helplessness. How did they carry on now, with no one to guide them?

The sound of weeping broke the silence. Morgana sat on the floor beside Morgause, not attempting to hide her tears. She stroked her sister's blonde hair and whispered something about lies and betrayal. Arthur pretended not to notice until she got to her feet, stumbled toward him, and buried her face in his shoulder, shaking and clutching him tighter. He wrapped his arms around her, thankful that his only surviving family member was Camelot's daughter again, even if she would never be the same. She would heal, given time.

He thought of Gwen, and how it felt to see her lying so still, not knowing what had happened. He looked to Merlin, whose body twitched now and then, who looked positively awful with the pale skin and irremediably ruffled hair and clothes. Gwen and Merlin would heal, too. They all would.

With a new dawn rising in Camelot, a kingdom that needed strong leaders more than ever, they were going to have to.

.X.x.X.

"How are you?" Morgana asked Merlin days later. She was unsure how to act around him, so she avoided him for the most part. Today was not to be one of those days.

The court sorcerer ran a hand through his hair. "Tired," he confessed, "but that's nothing new. We're all tired." The bags under his eyes suggested he was faring worse than the others, though. "Arthur needs us."

Morgana knew he was right. She sucked in a deep breath, her head pounding like it always did when she thought about the last two years of her life. So many mistakes she had made... and it went further than that. What scared her above all was the thought of what she'd been going to do.

There was a lot still to be done, both for her to make for her mistake and for Camelot to be fully restored. Arthur, having taken his place as king, had a difficult path ahead of him. He had as good as emptied the council and needed to replace them before too long, and he was weeding through Morgana's band of knights to find the ones worth keeping.

Mordred had been the first to go.

"He's still going to die in the end," said Merlin quietly, interrupting Morgana's thoughts. If she didn't know any better, she would have said he was reading them. "Arthur. Mordred's still going to kill him someday."

"It's not my fault," objected Morgana at once, then realized how churlish that sounded. "I-I'm sorry. I know that's not... the point. I don't want it to happen either."

Merlin sighed. "You've got a long way to go, Morgana," he said honestly, and her heart clenched. "But you're trying," he added, giving her a small smile. "And you're not threatening to imprison me in a tree, so I guess that's a start."

She might have laughed at that, once. Maybe she would again. "It's a start," she agreed, then hesitated. "Listen, I..."

"No apologies," interjected Merlin firmly. "'Sorry' is just a word, and it isn't going to help anything. I already believe you regret what you've done, so the only thing left is to do what you can to reverse it. You can start," he said thoughtfully, "by helping Arthur find some new members for the council. He wants a diverse set of advisors, not a bunch of nobles who live on pure tradition. If you think of someone, let him know. Or let Lancelot know, so Arthur doesn't have to deal with it right away. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," said Morgana quickly. Her emotions were threatening to overcome her once again, and it must have shown on her face. "It's just hard to believe that you can trust me so easily, so soon after..." She didn't need to finish.

Merlin took her hand. "After all you gave up that night, I think it's obvious where your loyalties lie."

How strange it was that two years after he poisoned her, Merlin could be at Morgana's side again, neither acting like it ever happened. So much had changed since then, for better or for worse.

The king cleared his throat behind them, and Merlin and Morgana jumped apart, realizing that their hands were still clasped in one another's.

"That thing I said to you, about how my father would react if anything happened between the two of you?" Arthur asked Merlin pointedly. Merlin nodded, remembering all too well. "That still applies."

"But you're marrying Gwen!" objected Merlin, then added as an afterthought, "and nothing is happening between us!"

Arthur glared at them suspiciously. "Keep it that way," he commanded, but Morgana could have sworn she saw him smile when he turned away.

Some things were different, yes, but some things would never change. Thankfully, the future wasn't one of them.

But, to everyone's relief, Morgana Pendragon was.