A/N: I've decided to give you one long chapter instead of two shorter ones, which makes this the last chapter. Thank you so much for the ride, everyone. It's been brilliant.

Chapter Eighteen: Of Kings and Warlocks

Merlin had often dreamed of burning. The fear had always been there during Uther's reign, masked under layers of quiet subservience and pretended ineptitude. He had always been twice as clumsy whenever Uther was in the room, because no matter how deeply he'd tried to bury it, even from himself, he could never quite shake the primal fear that somehow, someday Uther would find out what he was. Merlin had had other nightmares too, of his head on a chopping block, of a noose around his neck, of water closing in over his head as weights dragged him down, down, down. But no nightmare had ever terrified him as much as being burnt alive.

This was worse than all his nightmares combined.

Even in his nightmares, Merlin had always at least been able to see his friends—even if in some of those dreams, they'd been eager to watch him burn—and he hadn't died alone. He'd always had air, enough to shout spells to attempt to free himself, to call for Kilgharrah, or to murmur his last words. He'd at least been able to move, even if it was just to struggle against whatever kept him captive. Merlin had always dreamed he'd die fighting, trying to escape, perhaps even casting as many protective spells on Arthur as he could manage before death stopped him.

His nightmares had not prepared him for being unable to so much as twitch a finger, for sensing nothing but the searing pain creeping closer to his skin, for bashing on his prison with his magic to no avail. He wanted desperately to scream for Gaius, for Kilgharrah, for the knights, for Arthur, anyone, but he couldn't make a single sound. All he could do was thrash motionlessly against the unyielding wood physically and magically, all the while feeling more and more light-headed as his air ran out.

Just when he was on the brink of unconsciousness, the wood suddenly cracked, and the pressure around Merlin gave ever so slightly. He could feel a small tingle just near his nose, and breathed as deeply as he could manage—which was not very much. The air smelled of sawdust and smoke, but it was still air. Even the slight breath helped Merlin clear his head, if only a little bit. Enough to realize that he couldn't die here, because Morgana was going to kill Arthur and take Camelot, and he could not, would not let that happen.

Then the cool feeling vanished, replaced by more heat, and Merlin had to concentrate to not be overwhelmed by panic again. He forced himself to breathe more slowly, taking in what little air he could. The wood was cracking under the heat of the fire. Maybe he could help it along. An eerie sort of calm overcame him as he concentrated on his magic and blasted it at the small crack.

The wood split wide open, and Merlin's heart soared as he glimpsed light. As more air flowed towards him, he gasped shallowly, his chest too compressed to inhale any deeper. He wriggled and managed to crack it open even more, enough to get in a good, solid breath. He could see a bit of the clear blue sky and hear the flames licking at the bark around him.

He could also hear an indignant female shriek from somewhere below.

Suddenly he felt Morgana's magic weave through the wood, resealing the bark shut around him. His magic pushed back, but he had not yet gotten enough air to recover, and his flailing magic collapsed. Merlin tried to shout, out of frustration if nothing else, but the cry was strangled in his throat as the wood crushed the air back out of his lungs.

No, no, Someone, anyone, help me, please—Please—Arthur—

His last feeling before the wood enveloped him once more was a desperate rush of magic shooting into the sky.

By the northwest gate of Camelot, the enemy's numbers were falling fast. Almost none of the bodies littering the streets bore the Camelot crest. In many cases, the few mercenaries left faced two knights rather than one. Even now, Arthur could see a few more stragglers fleeing back through the gate, deciding to take their chances with the dragon rather than continue fighting with diminished numbers. Camelot was the clear winner in this fight.

So why did Arthur have a sinking feeling something was horribly wrong?

He dodged a blow from his opponent's mace, then surged forward, sword knocking the mace from the mercenary's hand. The now-unarmed man glared at Arthur in fearful defiance.

Arthur twirled his sword and assumed an attack stance. "I'd take my chances with the dragon if I were you."

The mercenary couldn't run away fast enough.

Arthur whirled around, spotted Leon some distance away, isolated from the rest of the battle by one of the few sorcerers still present. Arthur hurried to join Leon, ducking as one of the sorcerer's fireballs flew wide.

The sorcerer's eyes narrowed as he spotted the king. A second later, Arthur was blasted backwards, sword dropping from his hand.

"Sire!" Leon cried, charging at the sorcerer with his own sword. The sorcerer whirled to face him and Leon, too, was launched into the air.

Taking advantage of the sorcerer's distraction, Arthur threw himself towards his fallen sword. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, but the sorcerer jammed his foot on top of it before Arthur could lift it.

"Your pretty little lies aren't going to save you now, your majesty." the sorcerer sneered, pointing his palm at Arthur's face.

But before the sorcerer could utter a spell, a glow burst into being between the king and the sorcerer. Both men froze and watched, Arthur with relief, the sorcerer with bewilderment, as the blue light quickly coalesced into a ball.

Then the sorcerer lurched forward with a cry and sunk to the ground as Leon's sword embedded in his chest. Leon pulled his sword out and was extending a hand to his king when he noticed the blue light bobbing slightly in the air.

"Sire, what is that?" he asked, startled.

Arthur took Leon's hand, and the knight pulled him up. "It's this thing Merlin does. But I don't understand, it's the middle of the day, I don't need a light…"

As if taking the king's words to heart, the light suddenly sputtered, like a candle in a breeze. Sparks tumbled off the ball only to disintegrate as they reached the ground.

"Merlin?" Leon asked, staring at the ball more closely. "But what does it do?"

Was it supposed to be flickering like that? Arthur wondered. The ball was quivering erratically, as if it was all it could do to hold itself together. And the ball had always seemed so bright before. Perhaps it just seemed dimmer because of the daylight. But still, why would Merlin send him this now?

"Sire?"

Arthur shook his head to clear it. "He said…It's to help me when I'm in danger, I think…"

The ball of light fizzled to nothing, leaving one lone blue spark to fall to earth like a wingless bird.

The moment the ball vanished, Arthur's hair ruffled as a breeze suddenly picked up, whistling across the battlefield. The shutters of a nearby house slammed shut with the force of the wind. Storm clouds began to sweep across the sky, blotting out the sun, and within moments the city was plunged into shadow. Around the battlefield, shouts of surprise echoed at the sudden darkness. Sporadic drops of rain began to fall.

Arthur gazed back at the ground where the last spark had fallen just in time to see it go out completely. A nasty chill went through him that had nothing to do with the drop in temperature as his own words came back to him: You conjured a ball of light because you were dying.

Arthur wasn't dying; Merlin was.

But then…Arthur felt a swell of panic. Then what did it mean when the light went out?

"Sire?" Leon repeated.

Arthur grabbed a tight hold of Leon's shoulders. "Get the knights, the dragon, anyone we can spare to the courtyard. Go! Hurry!"

Leon nodded, and Arthur released him, taking off for the courtyard as fast as his feet could carry him.

The rain began to pour in earnest as Arthur ran. His boots sloshed in every puddle and slid across the slick cobblestones, but Arthur didn't slow down. His thoughts were jumbled in all directions, flailing for a plan, any sort of plan, of what he'd do once he actually got to the courtyard. All he had was step one: Get to Merlin.

Above him, the storm clouds raced ahead, churning in a spiral that centered around a pillar of smoke wafting from the courtyard. Arthur could see a glimmer of orange glow above the tops of the houses around him in sharp contrast with the gray sky, and his stomach twisted.

He spun around the corner into the courtyard, Merlin's name rising in his throat, and froze at the sight before him.

The courtyard was torn to shreds, more rubble than street. In the center stood an enormous, flaming tree whose base was already heavily charred. Huge cracks ran all along the length of the trunk, but they were repaired by pulsing, deep purple tendrils of magic that wrapped around the tree like climbing ivy. The tree's trunk was stretching, reaching higher towards the sky; it was already nearly as tall as the castle wall, with a trunk wide enough to fit a few horses inside.

Or a person, Arthur realized in horror as he frantically scanned the courtyard for an absent Merlin. Morgana's shrill laugh rang through the courtyard, and Arthur spotted her not too far away from where he stood, her gaze fixed on the flames with an almost childlike joy.

"A little rain's not going to stop me, Emrys! Forbearnan firgenholt!"

The flames billowed higher in a towering plume, making Arthur cover his eyes and even forcing Morgana to stumble back. He could feel the heat radiating off the tree from halfway across the courtyard, even through the pouring rain.

Morgana broke into another peal of laughter. Listening to her laughing, sounding so jubilant while Merlin was trapped and burning and dying, made all of Arthur's initial grief morph to rage. He would not, could not watch this any longer. He'd never be able to destroy the tree, not even with a sword that could kill the undead, but Morgana was within easy reach.

And so, he charged straight at her.

Morgana's laughter morphed to shock as she whirled at the sound of his footsteps. She jerked to the side in an attempt to avoid him, a spell forming on her lips, but Arthur was already upon her. All she managed to do was let his sword slice through her side instead of stabbing straight through her gut.

Morgana screamed an unearthly wail, and Arthur went flying. He landed hard on his back in a huge mud puddle, but he scrambled to return to his feet as quickly as possible.

An invisible force shoved him back down. Arthur sputtered as he tried to push himself back up, but the force pressed on him harder.

Morgana glided towards him, a dark shadow outlined by the roaring flames. She held one hand against her injured side, the other aiming the spell at him. "You," she hissed, "are finished, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur's body wrenched itself up against his will to kneel. He swung his sword at her in a wide arc, but Morgana was just out of his reach. She smirked down at him. "There. Right where you belong. On your knees before me."

Arthur swung again, and Morgana tutted. "Now, Arthur, that's no way to treat your queen." Her eyes glowed, and Arthur's arm bent backwards at the elbow until he heard something crack. He dropped his sword with a howl as his right arm broke.

Morgana leaned in as Arthur gasped raggedly with the pain and cradled his useless arm. With the hand not pressed to her side, she seized a fistful of his hair and jerked his head to face the tree serving as Merlin's pyre. "Pay close attention. I want you to watch him burn," she whispered as if savoring every syllable.

At that moment, the whole world cracked open as lightning split the sky down the middle. A flash streaked through the tree, obscuring everything in blinding light. Then the wind rushed towards the tree with a sucking boom loud enough to shake the very castle foundations.

The tree shattered. Morgana shrieked and Arthur shut his eyes as every inch of exposed skin was bombarded by thousands of charred splinters.

He opened his eyes, heart leaping in his chest as he saw the blackened, gnarled stump that was all that remained of the tree. Atop it, still half encased in wood, was a gasping figure coated with ash.

"No. No, no, no, no, no!" Morgan's grip slipped from Arthur's hair. She seemed to have forgotten the king completely.

With a couple hard kicks, Merlin split the wood enough to slide himself out and climb down. He leapt the few remaining feet to the ground and stumbled around a moment, chest still heaving for air. His eyes darted around, landed on Arthur, then raised back to Morgana. He started towards her, his face edged with utter fury.

"No," the witch spat. "No, you're not taking my victory from me. Akwele!"

Merlin did not even flinch. His eyes simply flashed, and Morgana's spell veered around him.

"Merlin!" Arthur lunged for Morgana, his weight crashing into her knees as he wrapped his unbroken arm around her calves. The witch toppled over, kicking wildly. Reeling pain erupted through the left side of Arthur's face as her foot struck his cheekbone, and he was forced to let her go.

Morgana clambered back upright and hugged her bleeding side with one arm. Her gaze switched between the warlock striding towards her and the king on the ground near her feet, and her lips curled. Arthur tried and failed to bite down a cry as she stomped hard on his injured arm.

"Not any closer, Merlin!" the witch ordered.

With great difficulty, Arthur muffled himself by clenching his jaw shut and lifted his head to see Merlin. The warlock had halted, eyes shifting between Morgana and Arthur.

"That's right," Morgana said in an almost sing-song tone. Her heel ground into Arthur's broken arm, and it took everything the king had to keep most of his scream in.

"Morgana!" It was a threat and an order all in one. "Leave him."

Through his vision blurred by either tears or rain, Arthur spotted his sword a few feet away. He reached out his unbroken arm for it, but his fingers fell over a foot short.

Morgana lifted her chin. "I'll be giving the orders. Unless you'd prefer me to kill him right here?"

Arthur stretched as far as he could, pleading to be able to just brush his fingers on the hilt, but the sword didn't budge. Awash in despair and pain, he dragged his gaze to Merlin.

Merlin's eyes flickered with understanding. He bowed his head, and took a deep breath. "Arthur, I'm sorry."

Morgana smirked with triumph, not seeing the sword fly to the king's outstretched hand. Arthur gave Merlin a nod of thanks, gritted his teeth, and stabbed the sword straight through the witch's leg.

A piercing scream ripped from Morgana's throat. But before she could retaliate, Merlin's head jerked up, eyes blazing. Arthur's stomach lurched as he felt himself launch off the ground like he'd been fired from a catapult. The air whooshed past him as he zoomed through the air in an arc, and he braced himself to crash—

He landed with a chorus of oomphs on the heads of a swarm of knights that had just arrived at the far end of the courtyard. Arthur's head spun as he heard a jumble of concerned shouts. Hands hauled him back to his feet, and Arthur hissed as another wave of pain blocked out all thought when his broken arm was jostled.

Elyan's face came into focus as the pain started to subside. "You alright, sire?"

"Arm," Arthur managed, gingerly clutching the injured limb. He took in the faces around him quickly. Elyan had brought about a dozen knights with him, including Percival and Gwaine. Although each knight looked relieved to find their king alive, their faces were quickly turning one by one to gape at the scene in the courtyard.

Arthur turned his attention back as well when Morgana's screech ended with an enormous explosion, carving a crater out of the ground where Arthur had lain a moment earlier. With a half-sob she wrenched the sword out of her leg and dropped it as if it had burned her. Then she stood there, trembling slightly, although it was impossible to tell if it was from pain, fear, or sheer rage. Whatever it was, she directed it all at Merlin.

"Swelte!" she screamed in a voice that didn't sound human. "Swelte! Swelte!"

Merlin stood impassively, eyes two golden beacons shining through the rain. Morgana's spells vanished before they reached him.

The knights, meanwhile, had their swords raised, but looked uncertain on who or if to attack. Arthur felt the weight of his knights' stares as they all looked to him for direction.

"You're to defend Merlin at all costs," Arthur ordered. "But for now, stay back."

Gwaine raised his sword. "But we've got to help him!"

"No," Arthur ordered, moving in front of Gwaine to block his way. He had been foolish to bring the knights here. It would only be a matter of time before Morgana tried attacking them instead of Merlin.

On the other hand, he was with Gwaine. He couldn't possibly leave Merlin to face her alone.

"Hold," he ordered again, "And get into as tight a formation as possible. If Merlin falters, we attack."

"Swelte! SWELTE!" Morgana's shrieks became more and more unhinged with each pronouncement.

Merlin stood his ground as Morgana hammered him with spells. He could feel how powerful her magic was, but all of a sudden it no longer seemed insurmountably immense. Once he'd conjured the storm, it felt like some sort of dam inside him had shattered, like every spell he'd bottled inside him over the past week was clamoring to escape his body.

So he let it out. His magic stretched through the earth and up into the air, free at last, and he could feel every pebble on the ground, every drop of water falling from the sky. He could feel Kilgharrah's comforting presence not too far away, and he sensed more than saw Arthur nearby, safe and surrounded by knights.

While his magic seemed to be climbing an upward peak, however, Morgana was tiring. Her spells blasted at him with less and less intensity. Her voice sounded broken, almost sobbing, and despite the things she'd done, Merlin felt more pity than anger.

"Why won't you just die?!" Morgana demanded.

"Why won't you?" Merlin shot back, sending her spell spiraling into the wet rubble. "We don't have to do this."

Morgana's heaving chest slowed. Her jaw clenched as she regained her composure. "Is that what you think? You think I'll give up just like that? Well, I won't! Swelte!"

Merlin caught her next bolt of magic effortlessly in his hand. He was close enough now that he could hear her frustrated growl as he poured her spell harmlessly into a puddle at his feet. "Enough, Morgana."

"No, it's not! Nothing could ever be enough. Not when it comes to defeating you." Her arm swiveled to point at the knights, and Merlin took a sharp breath. "You can't protect all of them! Ic, seo heahsacerd, the acwele…"

"Hold!" he heard Arthur order over the din of panic bubbling on the knights' end of the courtyard.

Merlin spun to face them only to see that Arthur had already anticipated Morgana's attention. The king had gathered the small force of knights into one tight circle. Arthur stood at the front of them, standing tall and determined with his broken arm pressed against his chest. His eyes locked with Merlin's, and he gave the warlock a quick nod.

In that fraction of a second exchanged between them, Merlin understood. Arthur had made his men a smaller target to make it easier for Merlin to defend them.

An overwhelming sense of calm control came over him. His low, steady voice carried through the courtyard as he chanted, and he could feel the magic pulsing around and through him. The words were unfamiliar, yet they sprung to his lips like he had always known them, like they belonged there, like they were his to say as much as the tongue of dragons. "Ic i gebene byre ond tidrenas. Lyft, waeter, folge min bebod. Forhienan se thas yfel. Flíeh faegth."

"…eower gebæne behwierfest yslan." Morgana finished at the same time. Her spell streaked across the courtyard towards Arthur and the knights at the same time Merlin felt his spell complete. He raised his arms as his magic exploded out of him.

The rain stopped in midair. Every individual droplet hung above the battle, suspended like crystals frozen in time. All was silent in the absence of rain pattering on the ruined cobblestone. Merlin held his breath, fearful a single move would shatter the moment, then pushed.

As one, every droplet darted towards the knights, melding together to form a solid sheet of ice between them and Morgana's fast-approaching spell.

"Hold!" Merlin heard Arthur's muffled order again as the knights looked ready to flee.

The reverberation of Morgana's spell bursting on the ice rattled in Merlin's bones, but the ice did not give. As Merlin concentrated, the wall of ice continued to thicken as more falling rain diverted towards it.

Morgana whirled back to him, eyes flashing. Her arm swept before her in a cutting motion. "No! Oferswinge!"

Merlin's concentration broke as he zipped through the air, slamming face-first into his own shield. Grimacing, he pushed himself around to face Morgana, only for her to bash him back against the wall. Dimly Merlin thought he heard Arthur banging on the opposite side of the thick ice, calling his name, but Merlin knew the king was never going to break through, not with the amount of magic he'd poured into it.

Merlin was only dimly aware of Morgana's shrill voice as she pounded him back into the wall again and again. "You—will—not—defeat—me!"

As the back of his head crashed against the ice one last time, Merlin reached inside the ice for the magic he'd trapped there, and hurled it at Morgana.

The ice behind him melted in an instant, and Merlin dropped straight down as the wave of rainwater speared past him towards Morgana, elongating into a straight, solid point—

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and for a moment, his world dulled. He could sense nothing but the magic in and around him, solidifying the water into a long, sharp icicle that stabbed through Morgana's chest. He felt rather than heard her gasp as the ice passed through.

Emrys—Merlin—

I'm sorry, he thought back.

All this time, you…We could've been…

I know.

The next moment, the smothering of his senses vanished and everything was a wash of light and colors and cold and hands gripping him and the clamor of voices trying to talk over each other. Something was squeezing and shaking him, calling his name in a cross between an order and a plea.

"—lin! Merlin, you idiot, get up!"

Merlin blinked as the colors solidified into Arthur's half-terrified, half-furious face. Behind Arthur were the rest of the group of knights. Half had taken up station between Morgana and the rest of the group; the rest were watching in varying stages of concern and shock. Then Leon started issuing orders to check on the body and report on the last of the battle at the wall, and the knights split off in different directions. Gwaine marched over to where Morgana's body lay, sword swinging murderously, his every gesture indicating that if Morgana wasn't dead already, she would be in a minute.

Merlin snapped back to reality as Arthur started to shake him one-handedly. "Merlin? Merlin, can you hear me? Merlin!"

"Course I can hear you, you prat."

Arthur let out his breath slowly. "Oh. Well, alright then." He hissed as Merlin poked his broken elbow. "Will you stop that?"

"Abir lithwaerc," Merlin muttered. He watched with some degree of perverse satisfaction when Arthur yelped. "There you are."

Arthur scowled, rubbing at his arm tenderly. "It's still not healed."

"You're never happy, are you? Trust me, you'd rather have Gaius look at it. I'm still fairly rubbish at healing spells. That'll hold until you see him."

Arthur stared at him a moment. "You, rubbish? After all…" He waved his hand wordlessly towards the ruined courtyard.

Merlin sighed. "I mean, if you want, I could try, but—"

Arthur hastily snatched his arm back. "Gaius it is."

Merlin pushed himself to sit up and gazed around at the scattering knights nervously. "Are they…"

"You saved all our lives and I told them to defend you at all costs. I think they're adjusting."

"Oh, good. I just tried burning to death. Don't recommend it."

Arthur didn't smile. "Merlin…that was…that was just…" He hesitated. "Is she…?"

"She's gone."

Arthur closed his eyes and bowed his head a moment. Then he put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Thank you."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Careful. I might just start to take you seriously."

"Shut up. Are you alright?"

Merlin glanced over where Morgana stood limply, hunched over the blood-stained icicle. He could feel the remnants of her magic in the air already beginning to fade. The knowledge of her death lodged inside him, and although his regret still prickled, he could not mourn. She'd been lost a long time ago. No, what he felt now was a numb relief.

"Yeah," he answered finally, "I'm alright."

Arthur's lips pressed together, and his voice sounded very strained. "I take it that includes the hole in your head? And the fact that you, oh, I don't know, were inside a tree that was on fire?!"

Merlin touched the half-healed wound on the side of his head and winced. "I forgot about that."

"You nearly died."

"So did you."

"I didn't…Not like…" Arthur took a deep breath to compose himself, then gave Merlin a shove with his good hand. "Don't do that again. At least, not until I've got a replacement court sorcerer."

"Oh yes, I'd hate to put you in such an inconvenient—wait. Court sorcerer? You said advisor. You said Lord Merlin, Court Advisor, I heard you."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well, I couldn't very well have a court sorcerer before magic was legal, could I?"

"You could've told me, you know."

"I did!"

"No, you didn't!"

"I did! I'm sure I did. Just because you weren't listening again, Merlin…"

"You did not."

"…Well, this was more fun anyway."

"Prat."

"Idiot."

They both looked up as a shadow loomed over them and the knights scattered around the courtyard gave a cry. Above them, Kilgharrah swept in a graceful arc, folding up his wings as he landed. A few of the knights cautiously began to approach the dragon, only to leap back when Kilgharrah tossed his head and snorted. The dragon fixed Merlin with an irritated glare eerily similar to Arthur's whenever he'd thought Merlin had just returned from the tavern.

Merlin winced. "He's not happy."

"Is he ever?"

"On occasion. Remember your stepmother the troll?"

"I wish I didn't."

"I asked him for help with dealing with her. He laughed."

Arthur considered this a moment. "I don't think I want to picture that."

Merlin's lips twitched. Then he noticed the rest of the knights started to trickle in after the dragon, weary but triumphant from defending the wall. They all gaped at the state of the courtyard, and Merlin winced again.

Leon broke off from this group and jogged toward Arthur and Merlin. "Sire," he gasped. Blood and sweat covered his face, contrasting with the dark circles still under his eyes.

Arthur nodded. "Good work."

Leon glanced sheepishly at Merlin. "The men are all starting to ask questions about…well, magic. And the dragon. What should I tell them?"

Merlin and Arthur glanced at each other. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him as if to say, Well?

Merlin shrugged back. It's not like his magic was a secret anymore. Arthur might as well explain to the knights what was going on.

The king turned back to Leon. "I'll talk to them. It's about time I inform the populace of what's going on. We'll start with the knights, and they can help spread the word amongst the citizens as they return to the city."

Merlin let his eyes drift shut. "Good, you do that, and I'll just—"

"—Be coming with me. Unless…" Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Unless you need to see Gaius?"

Merlin snorted. "Believe me, I've had far worse."

Arthur frowned at that, then turned back Leon. "Gather the knights. Tell them they're to hear from their king and his court sorcerer shortly."

"Yes, sire." Leon winked at Merlin before taking off to follow orders.

Merlin yelped as Arthur used his shoulder as leverage to push himself up.

"Well, Merlin, enough sitting around," Arthur said, dusting himself off. "Albion's not going to build itself."

A thrill surged through Merlin's spine as Arthur said the name. "There's a lot to do, you know," he said carefully. "Laws to create. Meetings to sit through. Wrongs to right. Everything's going to change."

"Then it's a good thing I've got you, now, isn't it?" Arthur held out his hand. "Come on. Are you with me?"

Merlin half-smiled at him and took it. "Does this mean I get a day off?"

Arthur grinned as he pulled Merlin up and clapped a hand on his back. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin."

"You're right, sire, one day's not nearly enough. Maybe three?"

"Merlin…"

"A week?"

"Merlin…"

"Surely not a month? That's far too much, my lord, I couldn't possibly…"

Sunlight began to break through the dissipating clouds as king and warlock strode together to face the gathering throng of knights.

After all, destiny was waiting.

Forbearnan firgenholt! = Burn mountain wood
Swelte! = Die violently!
Ic, seo heahsacerd, the acwelle… = I, the High Priestess, kill you…
Ic i gebene byre ond tidrenas. Lyft, waeter, folge min bebod. Forhienan se thas yfel. Flíeh faegth. = I command/summon the wind and rains. Air, water, obey my command. Defeat/cast down this evil. Fly, imminent death.
…eower gebæne behwierfest yslan = …that your bones turn to ash.
Oferswinge! = Strike him!
Abir lithwaerc. = Remove/take away pain in the limbs.

Once again, thank you so much for all your support, faves, and reviews! More are always welcome.