Hello all, and welcome to my brand new project. Except that this isn't only my project. You may have noticed the 'MC version' in the title of this story, and wondered what it was about. Well fear not, because I plan to tell you that now XD

Basically, myself and my housemate, peskychesk, have decided to set forth on an adventure in what we believe to be uncharted territory. We are each writing our own version of Módléas ealddayas, but from different points of view- mine largely from the main characters' (MC), and hers from an original character (OC). The two stories begin in separate locations, but as the story progresses the characters will gradually come together and drift apart. It is entirely possible to read just one of the two, but reading both will give you what we believe will be a much richer reading experience. Rest assured, the two are in no way too similar, so it will not feel like you are reading the same thing twice, but rather attaining a much more rounded picture of the latest threat to Camelot. I sincerely hope you enjoy- whether you chose to read just one, or both versions.

Now that the (rather long, but necessary) explanation is over with, I bid you what I hope will prove an enjoyable read.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. And neither does peskychesk.

Chapter One

The news had reached him earlier that day. News that a strange woman- possibly a sorceress- was being held in the castle dungeons, awaiting her trial the following day. Uther hadn't ventured from his chambers for nigh on four months- instead choosing to lose himself in memories in the past, pointing out where things had gone wrong- but he could not deny that this case made him curious. Not least because he had been told the woman had not fought back at all.

And so it was that, for the first time since Arthur had won back Camelot, the King ventured forth from his rooms, and made his way through his castle. But few would have recognised him at first glance. Gone was the proud man he had been in the past. He no longer strode confidently down the hallways. Instead, he crept down the side passages, darting into alcoves whenever he thought he heard the sounds of someone drawing near. He couldn't risk being found. Not until he had spoken to the woman. If he was, then they would only take him back to his chambers, and he had far too much he wanted to know to allow such a thing to happen.

It took him about half an hour, but eventually he made his silent way past the last of the guards (a task of little difficulty, considering the man in question seemed to be asleep), and found himself standing outside of the woman's cell.

She was sat against the black wall, her head back and eyes closed. She seemed, from what he could tell, about the same age as Arthur- maybe slightly younger, in fact. Her slim form was clothed in a cream blouse and dark brown breeches, both of which sported a collection of various-coloured patches, which had been haphazardly sewn into places where the original fabric had obviously torn. Dirty-Blonde hair fell in messy, unrestrained waves around her shoulders, and her feet were clad in loosely-tied, worn leather boots.

Hazel eyes opened slowly, and, upon seeing the King standing outside her cell, the woman rose leisurely to her feet, a small smile gracing her features.

She spoke, and at once Uther could see why she was under suspicion of sorcery. Although, apart from a slight lilt, her voice sounded normal, there was some inexplicable factor to it which compelled him to listen. This, combined with the strange aura which surrounded her, made it seem as though she was using magic to draw people to her presence.

"Well this is unexpected," were the first words spoken. "I never expected I would be entertaining royalty before the date of my trial. I wonder," she mused happily, "whether I should think of this as a reason for rejoicing?"

Uther stared at her warily. "That remains to be seen."

The woman smiled, a small chuckle escaping her mouth. "Indeed."

"What is your name, woman?"

Her head tilted to the side, a wide grin lighting up her face, emphasising the few freckles dotted across her cheeks. "I'm so glad you asked. It's so boring to talk to someone when you don't know even a little bit about each other, and a name can speak volumes." Dancing into the ray of torchlight shining in through the cell window from the square outside, she pirouetted, before finishing off with an extravagant bow. "My name is Shea. I think it fits."

Uther shook himself mentally. He couldn't allow himself to be drawn into this strange woman's pace. He was here for a reason.

"And are you a sorceress, Shea?" He wasn't sure why he had actually used her name- usually knowing a prisoner's name was a mere formality- but he pushed that point aside. It was irrelevant.

"Oh, no," she laughed. "I have no magic of my own. Although it is yet to be seen what the law will make of that statement. Personally, I'm quite looking forward to finding out."

"You seem somewhat relaxed for someone who may soon be sentenced to death."

"That, my dear King, is because I do not believe I will die."

Uther ignored the belittling term of address. "Do you mean you plan to escape? Because my son will not allow that to happen. And you forget that the entire kingdom is on guard against sorcerers."

Shea's smile faded, and for a moment Uther thought he had pinpointed her goal. And, for some strange reason, he found that the thought affected him- the mere fact that she was sad made the entire room seem darker somehow.

"Oh yes," she stated sorrowfully. "I heard about the Lady Morgana. It truly pains me to know that someone would twist magic to such a dark cause." Her eyes focused on Uther's, and for a disconcerting moment it was as though she was staring into his very soul. "Her actions must have hurt you more than I can fathom. I wish I could provide some form of comfort, but I am afraid you will have to find your own path out of that pain. Just remember that nothing is ever as bad as it seems- there is always an escape, and it often lies in the bonds you hold with the people around you. I fear that, if you fail to find your path soon, it will be lost to you forever."

Uther stared at her, inexplicable tears prickling at his eyes. He hurried to blink them back. He looked away quickly, a single thought going through his mind- how did she know just what it was he needed to hear?- and by the time he looked back, the astute woman who had stood before him was gone, replaced by the naïve girl from before.

"But let's not focus on such depressing topics right now," she continued, moving forward until she was about two paces from the cell's bars. "You came to ask me something. Am I right?"

A nod.

"Then ask away."

Uther blinked, his mind whirling momentarily, before it grabbed at the first question to present itself to him in it's entirety.

"Why are you so calm? Why so sure you will live?"

"Because I don't have magic."

"It does not seem that way to me."

Another laugh. "No, I suppose not. But then, that is only to be expected."

"Why?"

Shea grinned cheekily, skipping back into the light once again. "That, my Lord, is a story for another day. But, as you seem especially curious, I will tell you that the reason I know that I will not die is because I have been told, by someone I trust implicitly, that I have a purpose to serve here in Camelot."

"And what is that purpose?"

"That I do not know. My future is one I plan to find out as I go- it would be dull to know beforehand all the events yet to pass."

"And what if your purpose is to die here?"

"I do not believe it is, but, if that is what the fates have in mind, then I will die." She spoke calmly, a peaceful determination radiating from her. "It is that simple. But we digress. This is not what you wanted to know, and I suspect that we don't have much time."

Uther cast a furtive glance towards the passage he had come through just a few short minutes earlier. Shea was right. How she knew such a thing was a question for a another time, but she was most definitely right. Time was short, and he was not using it efficiently.

"I wanted," he started, before stopping to steel himself, digging out a small portion of his old iron will.

Taking a deep breath, he started again, making sure to look Shea directly in the eye. "I wanted to know about magic. What is it? Why does it turn so many people to darkness? How can it be stopped? How can it's corruption be reversed? How-"

He ground to a halt as Shea raised a single hand, indicating for him to stop.

"I think," she began, "that that's about enough to be getting on with for now." In one swift moment, she seated herself, cross-legged, precisely where the beam of light hit the floor. "But I will try to provide you with the answers you seek. I only hope that you will endeavour to consider the possibility that what I tell you may very much be true. Even if you don't want to accept it."

Furrowing his brow slightly, Uther nodded slowly, apprehensive. He was prepared to listen. It was the only reason he had come- his last hope.

Shea smiled, and all of her sudden she had an aura similar to that of some of the wisest people the King had ever met.

"Very well. Then I shall do my utmost to explain this to you to the best of my ability." She paused, closing her eyes briefly, as though readying herself, and when they opened they were filled with pure wisdom and determination.

"You ask 'what is magic?' I am afraid this is not something which can be explained so easily. For as long as people have walked this earth- for as long as they have known about magic- they have attempted to explain what it is. None have ever truly succeeded.

"Nonetheless," she insisted, before Uther had a chance to interrupt, "know that magic is all around us. As I said before, I have no magic of my own. However, I am one of the very few people ever to be in the unique situation wherein I am able to feel the flow of magic in the air and in the earth. It is natural, and it is pure. Magic is life itself.

"Which moves us on to your next question- why does magic turn people to darkness? The issue here lies in the question itself. A more correct way of phrasing the situation would be to say that it is people who turn magic to darkness. Magic is natural. But so is the yearning in the hearts of humans for power. And sometimes- not always, but sometimes- people who discover that they can manipulate the power of magic become greedy for more power. And so they begin their descent into darkness. This is, I am afraid, what happened to the Lady Morgana.

"And so, as you can see, there is no certain way to remove what you term 'corruption.' There is no physical cure. You can only hope that someone manages to bring the individual in question back to their senses before it is too late. And, if you want to prevent a case such as Morgana's from occurring once more, I suggest that you work to build a kingdom where magic users do not feel that they need to fight back."

At that point, Shea rose to her feet, the wise aura dropping away as she stood, to be replace with an energetic sort of childish innocence. "And that's about it."

For some reason he could barely understand, Uther found himself unable to speak against what the young woman had just said. As much as he wanted to rebel against it, some uncomfortable and forgotten part of his mind and heart could see the truth in her words. Instead, he uttered, barely above a whisper, "I don't understand you."

And there was that head tilt again- almost as though she was pretending not to understand him in return.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't understand you," he repeated, louder this time. "Nothing about you makes sense. There have been several moments in this conversation where you have appeared quite mad, and yet your eyes have remained surprisingly lucid. How do I know that what you say can be trusted?"

A wide grin spread across Shea's face. "You don't. But trust is often something you can choose to give. I only ask that you consider my words. And as for you not understanding me..." She paused. "Just think of me as a mystery- one which you do not yet have the information to solve."

At this point, she turned her face towards the passageway, where footsteps could now be heard.

"I suppose," she smiled, "that this means our time is up. It was a pleasure meeting you, your majesty."

It was at that moment that Arthur and his manservant appeared from the passageway, the Prince's worried expression instantly relaxing as he noticed his father's presence.

"Father," he breathed, relief evident in his voice. "What are you doing down here? I was just about to make the order for the warning bells to be rung. If it hadn't been for the guard telling me that you were here-"

"I was..." Uther started, before his breath caught in his throat. Casting a glance towards Shea, he noticed that, for some unknown reason, she was staring at the newcomers as though they were the most interesting thing she had ever encountered. "I was just taking a walk," he finished lamely.

Arthur spared but a cursive glance towards Shea, before starting to lead his father back through the castle. "What I don't understand," he begun, once they were back in the King's chambers, "is just how you even left your room. The guards outside didn't see a thing."

Uther's gaze flitted over the back wall, where a secret passageway lay hidden behind one of the curtains, before looking back at his son. He wouldn't say. Not yet.

Seeming resigned to the fact that Uther intended not to say a word, Arthur left, that lanky, dark-haired servant following after. And Uther was finally, blissfully, alone.

With plenty of thinking to do.

Ja-jannn!

So? Good? Bad? Average? Worth reading? I hope so...

If you enjoyed this, and would like to read about occurrences elsewhere in Camelot, please (if you feel the inclination) go and read peskychesk's OC version. I can promise you that you won't be disappointed.