MORGANA RESTED HIS METAL hand against his stomach to catch his breath, and he turned to face Kit when the prince collapsed at his side. The prince may have been tired, but he was beaming, and if Morgana was none the wiser, he would've thought the faint yellow glow around his skin was real and not just a figment of the high.

"How's that for the end of the world?" Kit said, raking his fingers through his hair.

Morgana propped himself up onto his side, littering his face with gentle kisses. It had been far too long since his smile reached his eyes. "If we both died right now, I'd probably be fine with it."

"What about Giselle? Won't she miss you?"

"She's got Selene," he hummed.

"I've never seen you like this," Kit said, cupping his face and pushing him back so he could look at him. Morgana's hair fell around them like a curtain, still dripping wet from the water. "I hope this is a good thing."

He had nothing to say to that, nothing honest, at least, so he stayed quiet. Truthfully, he didn't know if it was good. He didn't care, either, maybe that was what made it so dangerous. He felt intoxicated, and he had to sober up. Maybe another day, he could let himself feel like this.

With a wince, Morgana sat up, dipping back into the water to clean his mess and splash his face, shocking himself back into reality. He was still more relaxed than he was used to, but the longer he was there, the less fuzzy his head felt.

There wasn't much of a conversation after that, the two silently dressed themselves and left to find the others. Morgana was relieved there would be no suspicion regarding his limp, and he was more grateful than ever for his cane. They found their companions in a small meeting room, Mab at the end of a table with sunken eyes, Chalice leaning against the wall chatting with Lionel, and Eurion lying on the floor nursing an old bottle of whiskey.

"Where's Giselle?" Morgana asked. He didn't have a good feeling about this.

Eurion shrugged. "We haven't seen her or Selene. We looked everywhere." Her speech was slurred and her face was pale. She was drunk.

Morgana still didn't know everything that happened back at the palace, but he didn't think he had to. He already had an idea. He gulped. "Titania declared war... didn't she?" It was phrased as a statement rather than a question, because he was sure he knew the answer.

No one looked him in the eye.

"Didn't she?" he repeated.

It was Kit who finally spoke up.  "Yes," he said, voice broken. "Oh Gods, and Giselle is a--"

"She's a Seelie," Morgana cut in. "If her people are against mine, then she's gone. And she's not coming back."

His vision blurred and the whole world was shifting beneath his feet. He missed fifteen minutes ago when he was feeling the best euphoria of his life. When he wasn't coming to the realization that he'd never see his best friend again, and he didn't even get to say goodbye.

"And Selene went with her," Kit said. "Because of course she would. So we're never gonna see her, either."

"That's not true," Mab replied grimly. "We'll see them again. On the other side of the battlefield, fighting on Titania's side, because their only other choice is Giselle being stripped of everything she is."

Morgana didn't want this anymore. He wanted to be back in the pool, pretending the only thing he had to worry about was the end of the world. "Where'd you find that whiskey, Eurion?" The thief gestured vaguely, and he didn't think he'd get an answer out of her. "Fine. I'll find it myself."

He turned to leave, but was stopped by Mab's commanding tone. "We've got to prepare, we're leaving in the morning."

Morgana dared to look back at her, eyes defiant. "Train the others," he gritted. "I'm stronger than you know, aren't I?"

The Queen fumed, but she made no attempt to stop him when he stormed away this time. He weaved through the tunnels, desperate to find anything that would make him feel better. Everything was spinning and his head was hot, and breathing was getting harder to do. He thought maybe if he was angry enough, his grief would go away, but that wasn't how it worked and it never would be.

Finally, he found it. Boxes were already set out and opened, bottles strewn about with Eurion's haphazard nature. He picked up the first one he saw, forcing off the lid and downing it without a flinch as it burned its way through. He could feel himself getting hazy again, but it could've been how fast he was breathing.

He went through far too much alcohol before he finally stumbled back to bed, looking a mess, growling at anyone who tried to offer him help. He had no one but himself to hold his hair back when his stomach rejected everything into a metal bucket in the corner of the room. He had no one to hold him while he cried himself to sleep, or to comfort him through his nightmares, nothing to ease his pain. But he was glad for it. He wanted to be alone.

When he awoke in the morning, though, he wasn't alone anymore. He was held between two strong arms and a sturdy chest, warm and anchoring him to reality. Kit was already awake, Morgana could tell by the way he breathed, and if it were anyone else at all there, he would've been angry. Right now, it was hard to be angry with the only other person who wanted to help him.

"Sleep well?" Kit asked, fingers lazily brushing the bits of white hair at the nape of his neck. Morgana didn't know how there was anything but black left still, after all the times he'd been broken completely.

"Not remotely," he replied, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. He regretted it the moment a searing pain shot through his skull, and he let out an embarrassing whimper.

Kit rushed to his aid, searching a bag on the ground for something and pulling out a bottle. Inside it were herbs and flowers floating within a golden liquid bubbling like oil. "Drink this," he said. "Mab said it'll help with the hangover."

If he wasn't hurting so much, he would've questioned it further, but for now, he just wanted the throbbing and the nausea to go away. He popped the cork out of the bottle and drank it as quickly as his dry throat would allow. The concoction coated it with moisture right away, and the healing effects were almost immediate. It was nothing like what Giselle could do, but it was enough.

"Thanks," Morgana murmured, handing it back to Kit, whose brow was knit with concern. "I'm sorry. About last night. It's just... Giselle and I knew this might happen one day, but instead of preparing for the worst, we pretended that we'd never have to worry about it. So now I have no idea what to do. This was my worst fear, even greater than death, and it's happened before my very eyes. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Kit brushed a strand of hair out of his face with a single finger, tucking it behind his ear and turning his chin so he could look him in the eye. "Listen to me, Morgana," he said firmly, though every word was laced with unexpected tenderness. "I don't know Giselle nearly as well as you. I couldn't ever dream of it. But if there's one thing I can be sure of, it's that she will always do the right thing, even if she has to make a sacrifice. Just like you."

He was almost right. Most of the time, the Fair Folk were self-serving, doing what they could to stay alive before they ever prioritized anyone else. Not Giselle, though, never her. She was the only selfless faery he'd ever met, and he used to think it would be her downfall. But he realized now it could very well be her greatest strength.

Kit was wrong about him, though.

"I'm as selfish as any other," Morgana argued. "I almost let you all die because I couldn't stand to be wrong."

Kit gulped. "That's exactly why you're not selfish," he said. "You're willing to let your friends go if you think it means the good of your people."

Morgana didn't say a word after that. He thought back to his first kiss with Kit, and remembered the agony he felt when he slipped the blade into his gut. He almost didn't do it, he almost let himself do something cruelly selfish for once, but he couldn't, and he threw the prince to what he thought was surely his death. It was the last thing he could remember before waking up in Fells, everything in between was a blurry haze of grief and regret and the worst pain he'd ever felt.

For awhile after that, he wished Excalibur would've killed him. Without Giselle, the thought was coming back. His hand ghosted over the scar on his chest, visible beneath his open tunic, and hot tears pooled in his eyes with the ever-growing threat of spilling over.

"What's wrong?" Kit asked.

It wouldn't stay back anymore. "I wish it would've fucking killed me," Morgana cried, and the dam broke at last.

For the first time in a long time, he let it all come out. Everything, from the time he failed his people when he couldn't kill the King, to the pain he felt when he was stuck down in that dungeon, the revelation of what Camelot had done to his people, turning his back on everyone he loved, the thought that maybe he'd have to do it again one day. He wept over how weak he always felt, the way he didn't think he'd ever be as powerful as everyone expected him to be, how he didn't know if he'd ever see Giselle smile at him again.

He fell to his knees, jaw hanging open as silent, heavy sobs jerked his body back. Kit wasted no time in pulling him into his arms, and Morgana cried against his chest until his head spun and there was nothing left in him to get out. There was a soaked spot on the prince's white shirt by the time he pulled back, throat sore and eyes on fire.

He sniffled at the ground, pulling his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Kit insisted. "You needed that."

Morgana's eyes were blank on the ground in front of him. There was only one thing he could think of now, one thought he couldn't set aside anymore. His voice was rough and trembling when he spoke again. "So what are we going to do?"

The prince was confused. "What?"

"Giselle and I never prepared." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "What about us? What's going to happen when you're old and gone and I'm still here, as young as I always will be, watching you fade away until I've got nothing again?"

Kit's eyes flickered between Morgana's, like he was trying to find an answer in them. "I... don't know."

He never wanted to face the thought before. He hoped that maybe, as long as he didn't get too attached, it wouldn't hurt so much when it happened. But now that he knew how much ignoring it made things worse, he couldn't help agonizing over this.

"Maybe I shouldn't reach my limit," he whispered. "If we don't both die in battle, maybe I'll let myself fade away as I always should have done. Then I won't have to spend my life without you."

The look in Kit's eye could only be described as fire. Those amber mirrors cut into him like a knife, his brow furrowed in confusion and distress. "Stop talking like that," he said. "I don't ever want to be the reason you cut yourself short. If I have to walk away from you now to keep you from holding back for me, it'll kill me, but dammit, I will."

Morgana focused on his mouth, because he couldn't stand his burning gaze anymore. "Let me be selfish, Kristofer," he murmured. "Let me kill myself over you because I want to. To hell with everyone else."

"I know you don't think that," Kit said. "The moment you get out there and see the state of the Sídhe, you'll do anything to save them, even if that means you betray me again."

There was an edge of anger in his voice that hit him like a storm. Morgana's face hardened. "Don't decide that for me."

"I don't have to." Kit pushed himself to his feet, and Morgana suddenly felt cold without his touch. "I know who you are. You've shown me your true priorities, and I'm done being a gullible idiot. I believed you when you told me who you were, and over time I learned to admire you for it. I still do."

His throat felt swollen, and it was getting hard to breathe. Did Mab poison him? Or was this all Kit and his words that made him long for Excalibur's blade once again? "You still don't trust me," he muttered. "After all this, you still think I'm going to turn my back on you even after you've sacrificed everything to help us."

"Don't lie to me, we both know you will."

Morgana picked his cane up from the ground and used it to stand. He didn't want to be below Kit anymore, he was his equal. "You do not get to make that decision for me. I was a careless idiot back then, I know. But do you really think, after all this, I would just throw you aside like it's nothing? Did you not hear me saying how I'd rather die now if it meant not having to say goodbye to you?"

There were more tears now, angry, hot tears, and his words shook. Kit's eyes were glossy, but his expression was as hard as stone, and it didn't look right on him.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you trust me, Morgana," Kit gritted. "When all of this is done, we'll be back where we were when it was my people or yours because you couldn't trust that I'd figure something out."

Morgana's gaze was sharp, furious, and as honest as it could be. "I trusted you," he snapped. "I showed myself to you in the most vulnerable way a man could last night and you still have the audacity to think that I didn't."

Regret dawned on Kit's expression when he realized how wrong he'd been. Despite Morgana's hesitance, at the end of the day, he'd trusted Kit. And hell, maybe he still did. And he couldn't lie about it, they both knew that.

"Morgana--"

"No." He swallowed back the lump in his throat, forcing the tears away. "I need you to leave, Kit."

"I--"

"Go," Morgana ordered, cutting out all the feeling in his voice. Kit didn't deserve his vulnerability anymore. "I'll see you when we go to war."