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And lo and behold, there was the great king healthy as can be. Did Robert feel guilty for having been controlled into killing Lancelot? Quite a lot, actually - until he realized that Lancelot had been lying, and then the guilt receded. Merlin and the King's altercation mattered less to him, but the gate itself kept him in focus. He immediately turned to try and find Mildred, to keep her close and away from the gate, when his body betrayed him once more.

Who was doing this? The only one powerful enough to create this kind of sorcery was Merlin, and he wondered exactly when he would get the chance to slide his sword down that man's throat. Until then, he fought for his sanity, and lost the battle when nothing but white flooded his mind, and vision.

He couldn't even find her before he lost himself. Pathetic.

No.... Oh please no...

Pokerus couldn't move. Something was controlling her. A prisoner in her own body, she could only watch as she approached Lancelot, withdrawing her sword.

No...no...no...NO!

She attacked him. She saw the same hurt in his eyes that Percival had but it wasn't him it was Lancelot and it was herself fighting him, It was the knight she sworn to, the one who she had believed in all this time. He had made it through when others hadn't. Had saved them. And now he fought with everything he had against them. But even he with all his strength could not fight off such large numbers.

No...not Lancelot. She couldn't. Please...Oh God please stop her. Someone stop this madness.

When she felt her sword slice through his body her mind screamed in anguish. She fought the control with everything she had, mustering up her will and thrusting it at the unknown force but all she did was just raise her sword and stab him again and again, everyone else doing the same. She never stopped screaming, even when he was just a mess of gore and blood.

A sick sense of victory overtook her senses, a bloodlust she felt and yet did not feel. It didn't belong to her, but she still felt something similar to it; a black, twisted core of rage and horror at what she had been made to do, and what she wanted to do to the person who was controlling her.

Only when she was released from the spell and her mind fell into the consuming embrace of unconsciousness did she stop shrieking her rage and sorrow.

When she next awoke, Poke heard the voice of the great king, groggily rising to stand and stare at the person who was supposed to be dead. Beside him lay a sword, and she could feel grief emanating from the weapon. She could almost remember the name of who used it, almost.

And then, he showed up. Her memory returned in full, and Pokerus knew then that it was him who had made her kill Sir Lancelot. Nothing else mattered now, not the king, not the vortex overhead, not the final battle. The only thing that she wanted to do was rip this man to shreds for what he had done. No, what he had made her do.

She wanted to run at him, but they had retreated to the room behind the throne. Her body shook with suppressed anger as the great knights went to offer themselves under Merlin's control, but instead of the gate opening, Merlin's powers was unleashed.

Unable to hold herself back any longer she charged, screaming her anger at Merlin, but she had barely taken a few steps before her body buckled, her scream ending on a choked gasp. The lock had dissipated, unleashing a starved hunger that grasped at her body in the form of black shadows. Fendriel was trying to consume her.

Why, Fendriel? She thought as her body was forced to attack the great king. Weren't you my friend, my ally?

Soon it became a battle of wills against her and her own weapon to stay in control. Memories of a time long gone flooded her mind. She had been a being a shadow, a powerful being with wings and claws and teeth, but had been changed and sealed into the form of a sword. Or had she been a knight swearing loyalty to a great king?

She couldn't remember, her memories fading away until nothing but white remained.

He had stood by Riley's side, ready to protect her while Yuki fought the man who had dared to touch her, when he felt his will taken from him. His body began to move of it's own accord, the crystals slicing through his armor and into him so easily. He wanted to call out a warning to his friends but couldn't, familiar whispers of power and vengeance worming themselves into his mind, similar to the ones he had heard from the grail.

His body walked towards a secret room behind the throne, and he tried his best to break the hold of whoever it was had taken control. But no matter how hard he fought he was unable to stop his arm raising to strike out at Lancelot. He struggled even as he fought the white knight, wanting to scream at him to run away. But no, he didn't. He just stood there, and the look in his eyes told Jason he had given up.

Jason felt his soul torn to pieces much like his sword tore the last Great Knight into nothing. An alien feeling then crept into his mind, a gruesome triumphant satisfaction that he rejected with every fiber of his being.

Of course, this was when he felt himself regain control, letting the tears fall as he collapsed and sunk into darkness.

When he next felt his consciousness return he could hear a voice call out to him. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet and saw to his astonishment the great king stand before him. Wasn't he supposed to be dead??

The great king looks up, and he follows his gaze, gasping at the frightening sight of shadows fighting each other. But when he looks down he is surprised to see Merlin, and his eyes turned fierce. His fists clench, anger at what had transpired surging through his mind. How dare he...how dare he.

But before anything could be done they were lead towards a mirror, a screaming person behind it that was soon shattered, though Jason found himself not concerned in the slightest for some strange reason. Merlin waved his staff, and then...

It was time.

Jason felt himself move without his consent, his mind struggling to keep up with what was happening. This was it, it was time for him to make the sacrifice. And though he desperately wanted to find Riley and Yuki, and bid them a final farewell he couldn't even move his head. No, he was moving towards his seal, raising his hand towards it.

Goodbye, my friends..

He watched the gate open, felt it pull him towards it, and then...

...Nothing?

Jason stood there confused, wondering if he had screwed up somehow. He had thought he would be dead but apparently not. Instead, he turned around and saw Merlin strike the ground with his staff, the chain dissolving on it as did his own.

Then his weapon attacked him. Jason screamed in panic as shadows enveloped his being, kicking and shouting as a hunger tore into him, his body once again becoming a puppet and forcing him to stand and attack the great king, and then he regained control only for it to be taken away. A repeating process that eventually tore all his memories away until all that remained was white.

Before him, two doors stood.

Opening his eyes was a struggle.

What had happened? What had he done? Ignatius stared down at his pike, observing the blood covering it from the tip to part of the length of the staff. Blood. He had... Something had... He had killed Lancelot. Great Knight Lancelot, the only knight besides for his own Great Knight, Percival, that did not seem to be full of corruption.

It was enough to make one sick.

Still, the sight of the Great King was enough to give him a boost, and with the use of his pike, he clawed himself to his feet, watching him carefully. He spoke of the end, but of hope that they could win, still. But... There was Merlin. The Great King relied on Merlin. Ignatius knew that Merlin was not to be trusted, but he had seized. He couldn't speak.

Instead, he watched, stunned, as the seven Great Knights moved to the gate to unseal it, hoping perhaps that Merlin was not a threat after all. That was shortly shattered, just as the chain on his weapon was shattered, Merlin showing his true colours. The Great King seemed shocked. Merlin had betrayed everyone.

They had also been betrayed, and soon, the fight with the Great King and Merlin did not matter. All he could feel was pain, the shadows consuming him from head to toe. It was his weapon, yes? He was Caelestis. Of course he was Caelestis, why would he be anything else? With a roar, he charged The Great King, before he stopped in his tracks.

He was a Knight! A knight of the Blue Brigade, Ignatius Svarog. He was not a creature of shadow, he should be attacking Merlin--no, the king, the king needed to be felled and they would be victorious for Merlin--no!

Ignatius felt it slip from him, falling to the ground as everything around him turned white...

... And when he woke back up, he was faced with two doors. One spoke to virtue, another spoke to revenge. One spoke of determination, the other spoke of longing. One spoke of sacrifice, another spoke of being stolen away, robbed of their life. Both sung within him, drawing him towards them. Both held memories that called and beckoned, begging to explain themselves.

Ignatius didn't know where to go. Caelestis didn't know where to go.

What was he?

He doesn't know how to feel at first when the doors grow silent and he is still standing. He hasn't known how to feel at all since being forced to kill Lancelot. And then, something surfaces: relief. He won't have to die. There's no guilt in taking pleasure in that. (In savagely beating the Great Knight, in destroying what he thought was set in stone.) But with it comes a great uncertainty: what is he then? Knight or pawn, free or shackled? The more he wonders, the more this supposed loyalty of his chafes. He almost wishes the sidhe queen has broken free again.

The Great King, once thought gone, returns. Their ceremony is a farce. Merlin's power shines through once again. He can appreciate that fact even as shadows consume him, even as he struggles to remember who he is (what he is). He tries to remember the basics.

Alive. He is

Angry. He is

Vengeful. He is

Weak. He is—

Arrakis wished sincerely when he opened his eyes that he hadn't opened them. It took only a moment for what he'd done to come back to him, heart feeling like it would sink into the ground beneath him. When he did open his eyes and see the Great King there, he averted his gaze quickly out of shame even as seeing the Great King brought him a renewed sense of hope and purpose. The weight of the sadness coming from the sheath by the Great King's side brought tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat. Both of which he shoved down with the thought, there is still work to do, much work to do. He couldn't stop now. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Arrakis climbed laboriously to his feet.

When the Great King looked up, Arrakis' gaze followed. The shadows twisting and writhing among each other made him swallow, hard, and take another deep breath. And, well... if there was still hope for them then there was still hope for them. If the Great King believed in them, who was he not to do the same? Besides, he was with the blues, and they needed him for whatever he was able to give them.

...Seeing Merlin was bad enough. Finding himself utterly unable to do or say anything about what he'd witnessed was even worse. Being that he didn't understand what the King and Merlin were discussing, Arrakis found himself stewing in his own frustration at his ineffectiveness. He tried not to look at that mirror, but it was hard. He had thought they'd seen the last of it. Apparently, like many other things, he'd been wrong about this. The fact that the woman's identity seemed just out of reach of memory increased his frustration and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to get it under control.

The shattering of the mirror made them pop back open.

He hadn't had quite enough time to comprehend what it was that was happening before he found himself moving... and not of his own volition. He watched himself raise his hand and place it against the seal for the blue knights. He watched the doors shake and shudder. Wondered if it'd hurt to be sacrificed, to be given to the void within the mirror...

...What?

He looked away from the crystalline facets out of habit, not trusting that he saw nothing within them this time. The next few seconds were a blur, and then Arrakis was looking down at Hadyn, unsealed. The very next moment, he was consumed by blinding pain, not even noticing when his legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor. The next moment, it seemed, he was on his feet again and attacking the Great King at Merlin's behest. Every fiber of his soul rebelled at this. First Lancelot, now the Great King, no no no nono...

Yes. The rage of his weapon washed over him and attacking the Great King was everything he'd ever wanted. Back and forth, back and forth, until everything blurred together in the same nonsense of white and nothing else and everything all at the same time.

...He looked up and saw the doors, wrapping his arms around himself as he considered each one. Both seemed equally likely. Both seemed to be just as much home as the other... The line between him and Hadyn was so blurred as to be nearly nonexistent, and they knew they had to separate them out, had to pick one, had to choose.

...But which one?

He heard arguing, fighting, minor chaos issuing from the throne room, and Mmur stayed away, examining ruined tapestries, questing for armor he already possessed, and generally avoiding what he assumed was more conflict. Even so, he couldn't keep the darkness from affecting him forever.

At some point Mmur nodded off, his head heavy with chickens, Waldorf's reassuring presence, the cloying need for revenge When he was aware again, he was standing in the middle of a nightmare.

The new Great Knights had their hands on a gate. Merlin's staff exploded with blinding power. Someone was a monster. Mmur thought it might have been him.

He felt an undeniable compulsion to attack the king, then nothing. It was a violation. When the doors appeared in front of him, he reached for the blue without hesitation.

The first time, Wilson does nothing; he feels himself turn away from the voice as if he could ignore it and return to the void, but the second time the ringing comes at him full throttle and the knight is forced to awaken back to his own body. His balance is weak at first; he takes a step back while he sways back and forth. He looks up to the Great King. For a moment he stands mouth agape, admiring the King’s majesty and grace, but at the same time wants to collapse on his knees and scream. Why weren’t you here sooner?

The King looks up, and so does Wilson. He is drawn to the vortex; he watches the figures swirl and dance around each other, watches them fight to the death. The war has begun. His thoughts echo the Great King’s words.

Someone speaks Merlin’s name, and the knight cannot help but wonder what Merlin has been doing this entire time. Where have you been? Do you not care about the kingdom at all? A knot builds up in his chest when he sees the mirror again. He wants to say something. He’s seen this mirror before, he’s seen the chaos its created, and he wants to say that Gawain was right, but Gawain is also dead—

He breathes in the black crystal, and the sensation of crystallizing death is both familiar and unfamiliar. Wilson hunches over, tense hands disappearing beneath gleaming darkness and black slithering tendrils dancing across his vision as his weapon begins to take control. His body moves in short, jerky movements as the confused weapon tries to reach for the King.

And then he breathes, fighting through burning lungs to pull his hand away, to step away from the Great King. This is not what he was meant to do—

And he is back kneeling on the floor, crystallized hands digging into his skull as he fights for control.