The throne room was barely recognizable. Strange red torches burned ceaselessly at the windows, bloodying the thin moonlight and casting clawed shadows. The brilliant red-and-gold banners of House Pendragon were no more; Morgause had them piled high and burned in the courtyard by Uther's charred corpse, and the sullen smoke choked the sky for almost two days.

New banners bedecked the room now, black with a crimson tree whose branches and root-tips curled like flame. Guinevere approached the throne with a queasy nervousness in her throat. The new Queen was dressed in scarlet silk, rubies and garnets drinking blood-light at sleeves and bodice. Morgana was even paler than usual, pure icy enamel, save for the feverish green eyes and crimson lips. Glassy white hands curled over the throne arms. There was no flicker of humor or vulnerability in her countenance, only the cold pure gleam of steel.

"You summoned me, your majesty," Guinevere bowed.

When she looked up she saw that another man stood by Cendred at the dais, his face mottled with bruising and his hair straggled. But the serpentine gleam of his eyes was unmistakeable: Melwas. She could feel the anger simmering off him in waves.

"Bring out the prisoner," Morgause called, and Gwen turned, watching in horror as two guards half-dragged Gaius the length of the hall. His robes were tattered and blood-flecked, and blood dripped from above his eye. 

The guards flung him before the throne and he fell to his knees with a muffled grunt of pain.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gwen demanded, "What has he done?"

Morgause's eyes glittered, "You dare to question your Queen?"

Morgana rose from the throne, "This man has been found a traitor, and must suffer the consequences," she stood before the physician, "Do you deny the charge of treason?"

"It is-," Gaius' voice cracked hoarse with pain, "It is no treason, to serve Camelot."

Morgana's hand lashed his face swift as a scourge, her rings cutting the flesh,  “Foolish old man. I am Camelot. And you have never served me."

"I looked after you...since you were a child I've protected -," 

"Protected?" Morgana laughed high and cold, "You lied to me! Drugged me with sleeping droughts when I came to you alone and afraid. You tried to drown my magic in lies and potions, like a sickness."

"I was trying to protect you from those who would use you," he glanced briefly at Morgause, " And I failed. I failed utterly."

Morgana's lip twitched, "You did fail me. All of you. And now you conspire against me."

Morgause sidled over, "Do you deny helping the two Knights escape?"

"I don't deny serving Camelot."

"Do you deny conspiring with the sorcerer Emyrs?" Morgause's eyes flashed gold. Gwen kept her eyes down.

So the child doesn't remember Emrys. Merlin's secret is safe!...for now.

"I served Camelot," the physician reiterated. 

"Then he has confessed," Morgause concluded sharply, and turned to her sister.

Morgana gestured for Mordred, who had sat watching with his unblinking eyes. Guinevere felt a cold wash of fear when he approached and bade her take the dagger from his hands. She unsheathed it, a beautiful thing for a weapon, with a handle encrusted in pearl and moonstone.

His eyes watched her, so much like Morgana's, yet colder, deeper, inhuman.

"Slit his throat," Mordred whispered.

Guinevere blinked, thinking she had misheard, but when she raised her eyes Morgause and Morgana watched her expectantly.

The golden witch smiled, "The Queen asks for a display of loyalty. Kill the old man and we shall know you are indeed one of us."

"Morgana-,"

"You will address your Queen with respect!" Morgause snapped.

Melwas stepped forward, "She might display her loyalty by honoring her pledge to me, your majesty," he bowed, "I was robbed of my right to her by Arthur Pendragon."

Morgause laughed sharply and grabbed Guinevere's chin, forcing her to look up into her lance-sharp eyes. 
 "Really, Melwas, you're a bigger fool than I thought." Something like amusement tugged the hard beauty of her face, "This one's had her flower plucked already, and I can practically smell it on her. A Pendragon whore to the last, is what she is."

She caught the flicker of rage in Melwas' face before Morgana cut in.

"Enough." The Queen kept her eyes on Gaius, "Do it, Gwen. If you were ever my friend, do it." And two men twisted Gaius around so he faced her, pulling back his head so Gwen could see his exposed throat, the loose folds of skin and the apple bobbing with each swallow.

"If you were ever my friend you would not ask me for this," she pleaded, "Morga - your majesty, please. He's an old man, what harm can he do?"

Morgana was silent, and for a desperate moment Gwen dared to hope. Then those green eyes met hers, glass-bright.

"He's done harm enough already. Do it, or you'll both join my beloved father on the pyre."

Guinevere glanced about her, caught Cendred's cold leer and Melwas' glare, saw the light pouring blood-colored through the windows. The dagger was sharp, she could tell from the way it caught the light. But even if she managed to stab a guard, there were too many. They would overpower her easily, and she and Gaius would die anyway.

Think Guinevere, think! What would Arthur do?

"The Queen does not have all day," Morgause informed threateningly.

Suddenly a shadow darkened the room, sweeping across the windows. When it was gone a chorus of screams and screeches rose in the air, and bright fire flashed in the sky.

"Dragonfire!" she heard the witch gasp, and Gwen's heart leaped in her throat. Merlin! and maybe Arthur too...

Chaos erupted. Gwen and the physician were forgotten as Morgause snapped orders and the grey-clad sentinels hurried silently out. More screams reached them, and the fire flashed again. Morgana took her son in hand and hurried out, flanked by Cendred.

"Get the Queen to safety," she heard Morgause cry, " Leave the dragon to me."

The throne room emptied save for her and Gaius. She grasped his shoulders, "Gaius, Gaius! Can you walk? We have to-,"

A hand seized her shoulder and yanked her away, sending her sprawling. The dagger clattered across the floor.

"Did you think I had forgotten you, my sweet?" Melwas whispered.  Gwen writhed away but he grasped her ankle and pinned her elbow to the ground, "Crawling to your prince? I'm afraid he really won't disturb us this- - you little bitch!" he swore when she kicked with her other foot, catching his face on the half-healed bruise. His grip loosened on her elbow and she almost succeeded in dragging herself away, but he was on her like a snake, wrenching her around violently so his breath soured in her face.  Gwen struggled desperately, trying to claw at his face, but his body pinioned hers and he restrained her wrists easily with one hand. She felt his knee wedged between her skirts, forcing her thighs apart, and his free hand roamed her body greedily, squeezing at her breast and hip.

"Is this what you like, treacherous slut? Is this how your Prince touched you?" he snarled above her, "Not so eager now are you?"
 
Before she could think, two arms locked around Melwas' neck, and Gaius flung himself away, pulling Melwas off her in a last burst of strength. They tumbled to the floor, Melwas cursing.

Sobbing and reeling Guinevere groped blindly for the dagger. She had never used one, but she knew it was her only hope now. Behind her she heard Melwas throw off the old physician so he thudded to the floor, and she half crawled, half ran and stumbled towards the gleam of moonstones. Almost there.... her fingertips grasped the cold pearl hilt. She struggled to her feet just as Melwas reached her. Her heart pounded through her veins so hard the world simmered and tilted. 

"You might have been my Queen." he panted, and she concealed the dagger in her skirts as he yanked her viciously to face him,  "But you'd rather whore yourself to Arthur Pendragon. You'll be a dead whore soon-,"

The dagger slid into flesh easily. Like cake, she thought numbly. His eyes bulged and his mouth moved wordlessly, like a dying fish. 
"I'd rather spend a thousand lifetimes as his whore than a single hour as your wife."
Gwen pulled the dagger out and plunged again, and felt the warm thickness of his lifeblood gush over her hand. It was an odd sensation. This is what killing feels like.

Melwas slid to the floor, hands batting feebly at the dagger. But the blade was true and buried deep, and soon his blood pooled around him.

A wave of dizziness assailed her and she fought to stay upright as a sick-sweet smell overpowered her, and bile rose in her throat. Gwen stumbled away from the body just as the retching bent her double. When it was over she wiped her mouth and took a deep breath. Her head pounded but she felt marginally better.

She could hear screams and cries, and the smell of burning. She shook Gaius, "Gaius, wake up! We have to go..,"

He stirred with a low groan, "Guinevere...you must leave, find Arthur. Get to safety."

"No, I won't leave you. Put you arm around -,"

"No child," Gaius protested gently, "I'll only slow you down. I'll be fine here. Go, leave."

"But I -,"

"Go!"

Gwen wiped her tears, "I'll be back, I promise."  She looked around, and tore one of the black-crimson banners behind the throne to drape over Gaius. Then she kissed him briefly on the forehead and hurried out.

***

The hallways were abandoned. She picked up an abandoned sword, holding it out before her as she stepped cautiously down the stairs. 

Finally on the lower level she found two of Cendred's men, their garments still smoking. Dead.  She remembered Morgause's cry of Dragonfire! 
So the strange eyeless sentinels could be slain.

The closer she was to the main doors, the more bodies lay piled. Each time she caught a glimpse of crimson cloth among the corpses, her heart dropped, thinking it was Arthur.  But each time her fears proved unfounded. She could smell smoke strongly now, and hear the roar of flames.

Guinevere reached the courtyard, and froze in her steps. 

Fire was everywhere, consuming Morgana's banners, devouring wagons and barrels, streaming from the shrieking figures of Cendred's men and filling the night with red sunlight. Knights with torches of dragon-fire pursued them, pressing them back, storming victoriously up the citadel stairs. But where was Arthur?...and Merlin?

Gwen ducked instinctively as shadow-wings darkened the courtyardtu. Shielding her eyes, she looked up and saw the great dragon Kilgarrah, last of his kind, as he poured fire down on the fleeing sentinels.

A sudden flash of steel caught her eye amid the smoke and chaos, and she saw them: Arthur was engaged in a pitched battle with Morgause. Their swords glittered and sparked and swung in a deadly dance, both poised on skill so fierce that the slightest misstep would be death.  Morgause pressed fiercely forward, but Gwen could see Arthur’s blade gleaming with a strange radiance, as though light dwelled within the tempered steel.  No ordinary sword.

But now the sky was growing darker, not from a dragon-shadow but the sun drawing a veil of darkness across the moon’s face.

An eclipse. Some deep foreboding stirred in her as the moon faded black, and no sooner did she tear her eyes from the sky than Guinevere glimpsed Mordred walking towards Arthur, who was too engaged in battle with Morgause too see the child with brandished dagger approaching. The boy’s grey cloak brushed the ground as he approached with slow and steady footsteps.

Guinevere tried to cry out, but the roaring fiery chaos around them drowned her voice. She was running before she felt her feet move, running through smoke and flame and snowy ash. But Mordred was closer, approaching implacably, and still Arthur did not see…

Several things happened at once. The rush of dragon wings swept the air and Kilgarrah landed between them. Merlin was there too, and he shouted a command in a deep, throaty voice. Kilgarrah caught Mordred in his jaws. Morgana screamed and her eyes turned blank gold, and she threw herself against the dragon’s scaly form. But to no avail, for her magic sputtered before the dragon’s might, and Mordred slipped bloodied to the ground, half his face melting in fleshy chunks as Kilgarrah swept back to the sky.

Morgana screamed again, clutching Mordred to her, and the sound of her anguish rent the air, loosening the gravel beneath their feet. Morgause seized a chance and rushed forward, and Guinevere stumbled to her feet in time to see a stroke catch Arthur across the ribs, slicing through his chain mail. He swayed, clutching his side, while Morgause raised the deathblow.

“NO!” this time it was Merlin who screamed.

Guinevere rushed forward and slashed down with all her might, and the blade rang back from Morgause’s vambrace. But it was enough to hamper her. Guinevere had time to see the gold fill her eyes before Arthur’s sword took her between the ribs, and when he withdrew the blade in one swift stroke she collapsed almost gracefully.

She felt the sword drop from numb fingers before she rushed into Arthur’s arms, but he was falling too, jaw twitching with pain, and there was blood, so much blood, warm sticky against cold, ruined mail.

“Guinevere…,” he managed hoarsely as she sank with him, “ You’re alive…,” bloodstained fingers brushed her cheek weakly.

“You’ll be alight Arthur,” she cradled his golden head, “ You will,” it was a fierce whisper. “We’ll find Gaius and -,” but she remembered that Gaius lay bleeding in the throne-room, gravely hurt, perhaps dead.

Arthur smiled before a spasm of pain crossed his face, “I can….think of…worse ways…,” his teeth clenched in agony, “…to die, than in your arms.”

“No, no! You’re not going to die, Arthur…,” she looked around desperately. Morgana was hunched over her son’s body, and Merlin stood over them, his arm raised forward and magic flickering at his fingertips.

He could kill them both.

But he hesitated, and Gwen cried out to him, “Merlin! Merlin we have to help Arthur! Please Merlin…”

Her voice seemed to startle him, and when he whipped about his eyes were pure molten light, as though magic instead of blood was pulsing through his veins. Then they cleared and he was by their side, and he grimaced at Arthur’s wound.

The moon was no more, and the light was fading from Arthur’s eyes, but Merlin placed a hand over the wound and murmured soft clear words, and a silver-blue light glowed between his fingers, so bright that Gwen had to shield her eyes.

Vaguely she saw Arthur’s eyes round with shock, “Merlin…what the…,” but the light was too brilliant now, more lucent than the returning moonlight, and Gwen heard a vague silver music, like all the stars in all the realms aligned with every heartbeat. A single quivering note like the first peal of Avalon’s bells. Through the aching brilliance she reached for Arthur’s hand, and his fingers twined with hers, and she felt breath whistling through each of them, the same air, and only flesh between.