Alright, now who doesn't love a good Romeo and Juliet parody? The play itself is sort of silly, but it poses a great idea, doesn't it? This is just one of those times my brain puts two things together and I have NO CHOICE but to run with it! Hooray!

Anyway, this is my version of what would happen if Uther hadn't taken Morgana in after Gorlois's death. Naturally, this means most of the series won't have happened (or at least will have happened differently), so it's difficult to say when in the timeline this take place. Most necessary details are explained in passing, but you're just gonna have to go with me here, okay?

One thing I should mention: in this story, Uther either IS NOT Morgana's birth father or at the very least SHE DOES NOT KNOW (and never will). I think in the series that was what really sent her off the deep end mentally, and that NOT happening is sort of key to this story.

Also as a lovely tidbit, I'm already completely done writing it! So no unplanned hiatuses! (Which, I'll admit, I'm notorious for... Whoops). I split it into 5 chapters, each of which corresponds to one of the Acts of the original play (there's also an epilogue at the end). I'm thinking of posting them once a week, so I finish sometime next month, but we'll see what kind of reception this gets.

Alright! Ready for a very long introduction? Act 1... START!

ACT I

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Morgana had always rather liked the sound her boots made as she tread steadily over the dry autumn leaves that covered the forest road. Having spent most of her life inside an abandoned castle near the western border of Essetir, she relished the days when her sister would send her to a nearby village or town, regardless of the reason. Her sister played ever the part of the protective guardian when it came to Morgana, and when broached the subject of her confinement would always be flattened beneath the insistence that their enemies should never be permitted to see the younger witch's face – that is, not until her sister deemed it necessary. Secrecy was her weapon, her sister would say. One day that advantage would win them a great deal. Needless to say, Morgana had since stopped asking.

When she reached the village, her feet carried her almost without thought to the fourth hut on the left – the same as she visited every so often. The apothecary in this town was one that her sister had chosen long ago, as something of a sympathizer toward their cause.

"Afternoon, m'lady," the man greeted Morgana in a gruff voice upon her entrance. He offered her a smile that was every bit dutiful and noticeably lacking in mirth. "What can I do for you?"

Wrinkling her nose at the musty smell inside the cabin, Morgana pulled a folded piece of parchment from the pouch slung from her belt and handed it to him with a smile as like to his as she could give. "The usual collection, please," she said sweetly. Her eyes remained on him as he turned away from her, only moving when he disappeared into the back room. She waited patiently for a few moments, until the man emerged carrying a small covered basket. He handed it to Morgana with a grunt and she flipped a silver coin toward him. He snatched it out of the air greedily. "My thanks, as always," she offered. "I'll give your blessings to my sister."

"That you will, m'lady," he answered with a nod and a slight bow. "Pleasure as ever."

When she escaped outside, she paused a moment and took a deep breath of the fresh air. Apothecaries' shops often carried funny smells due to their various wares, but this one was unfortunately notorious in that field. Still, it was worth a few minutes of unpleasantness if she and her sister could easily get what they needed.

As Morgana walked absently back toward the forest, she remained so distracted by these thoughts that she barely noticed when a cottage door swung open directly in front of her eyes. She flinched and jumped to the side to avoid being hit, which unfortunately placed her directly in the path of the person coming through the door. With a gasp she collided painfully with the other and both were knocked heavily to the ground.

Morgana shoved her hair out of her eyes and looked up to see that her basket had fallen and tipped over, spilling vials, bottles, and wrapped packages of preserved plants across the road. She pushed herself to her knees and was about to shout a curse at whoever had been careless enough to run into her when a voice cut her off.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, that was completely my fault! I didn't even see you there."

Taking a breath to quiet her initial anger, Morgana turned to see a young man about her age – perhaps a year or two younger – picking himself up off the ground and offering her a hand. He was dressed in simple attire, which told her he was likely no one of great importance or trade. She took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He stood at full height a few inches taller than she did, and had a thin, lanky frame and short-cut, unkempt black hair. Nothing was remarkable about him, so Morgana told herself to remain calm and she would soon be on her way back home.

"No, don't worry," she replied with a smile. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"At least let me help you," he offered, returning her smile with one of his own and dropping to the ground to gather her scattered supplies.

Morgana followed suit immediately. "You don't have to do that," she insisted, quickly gathering some of the rarer items and stowing them away before he could reach for them. Common boy or not, she wasn't about to risk any questions he may have.

"No, no, it's the least I can do for knocking you over." Once finished, he jumped to his feet and helped her up again (quite unnecessarily). "Sorry about that," he said again.

She offered him her kindest smile, marveling at his seemingly endless enthusiasm. "Don't worry about it, really. Thank you for your help, but I really should be on my way." He grinned and stepped back out of her way, extending an arm. She nodded in thanks and strode past him at a quickened pace. That was close, she thought to herself. What would my sister say if she knew I was showing off our supplies to people on the road?

"Are you headed for the forest?"

Morgana skidded to a halt at his voice, turning to notice the same commoner walking toward her. "Yes, that's the way I came," she answered in a teasing sort of voice. Maybe if I humor him, he'll leave me alone.

He frowned, saying, "You do know it's dangerous in there, right? Bandits and slavers often roam the forest from here to Essetir. I hope you don't plan on traveling alone."

"Actually, I prefer to travel alone," she answered matter-of-factly. "I can take care of myself, you know. But if you're afraid, I'm sure I can find someone to escort you home." She offered him a sweet smile as he laughed.

"Sure you don't want some company?" He smiled and raised his eyebrows, but Morgana thought she saw true concern hidden behind the mirth in his eyes. He doesn't even know me, and still he worries for me?

Shaking her head, she answered, "I think I'll be alright."

He nodded. "Right then."

Morgana eyed him suspiciously. "Goodbye, then," she said carefully. He smiled and waved at her, and she turned to go. Upon resuming her walk, however, she quickly noticed that her footsteps were not alone. At the edge of the forest, she came to an abrupt halt, turned around, and was unsurprised to see that the boy had followed her. "What are you doing?" she demanded with half a smile, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. What kind of person is this?

"Walking," he answered simply, though truth be told he had stopped when she had.

"You're following me," she accused him, pointing a finger at him and narrowing her eyes.

"No, I'm not. I'm just… walking in the same direction you are."

"That's following."

When he shrugged and remained where he was, Morgana let out an exasperated sigh and turned away from him, continuing on her way. If he wants to follow me, that's fine. I suppose if he figures out too much I can just kill him and be done with it. That was likely what her sister would tell her to do, at any rate. He's no one special anyway.

After half a mile or so, she stopped again and turned, asking, "Do you even live this way?"

"No," he answered simply, shaking his head and pointing over his shoulder, back toward the town. "Opposite direction."

Morgana laughed in disbelief. This was just too much. "Then why—" Suddenly, she froze, frowning. She could have sworn she'd heard something further up the path. She shot a wary glance over her shoulder, listening carefully.

"Did you hear that?" the commoner asked. So it wasn't just me…

After a moment, the unmistakable sound of many footsteps began to echo louder from up the road. "Probably bandits," Morgana guessed, not exactly worried and attempting to formulate a plan to avoid making a scene.

The boy was already ahead of her. "We should hide," he suggested seriously, and she was surprised to hear his voice sound from right beside her. When had he snuck up on her like that? I must have been distracted by the intruders, she reasoned as he took her arm and pulled her into the shelter of the trees. They hid behind a large trunk just off the road, so they could watch without being seen. The boy crouched down low to the ground, still and silent as the trees themselves. Morgana remained standing, allowing the shadow of the trunk to envelop her thin body. She had to give him credit – it seemed as though he'd done this very thing many times before. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. As he'd said, bandits often roamed these woods. It was a simple safety precaution for travelers to have methods of avoiding confrontation.

Before long a party of roughly twelve men came into view, all on foot and dressed in crude clothing. Swords or maces hung from each of their waists, and a few of them had tattered shields – likely stolen, by the look of them. They were no knights, that much was certain.

"'Round here, you say?" one of them asked loudly.

"Yeah," another answered. "I 'eard voices, I'm tellin' ya."

A third knelt down to examine the ground where Morgana had been standing moments before. "Well they can' have gotten far."

Just then, Morgana felt something yank hard on her hair. With a surprised yelp, she was pulled around the tree and led forcefully back onto the road.

"Look what I found hidin' in the forest," the man who held her sang, his stale breath hot and unpleasant on her shoulder.

"Well, well, well," the one on the ground said, standing up and stepping toward her. He may have been what passed for their leader, she assumed. "What's in the basket there, sweetheart?"

"Why don't you come a little closer and find out?" Morgana replied in a sickly sweet voice. She didn't want to risk using magic, in case one of them got away or her traveling companion saw something. But she had a dagger fastened to the inside of her belt. If she could just get to it…

Though as it turned out, she wouldn't need to. The man smiled, showing off his rotten teeth. He reached a hand toward her face and opened his mouth to speak, when all of a sudden an unseen force grabbed him away and threw him into the air. He landed against a tree and dropped to the ground, unmoving.

Morgana sucked in her breath in surprise. Had she used magic without meaning to? That hadn't happened since she was very young, when she'd trained her powers under Priestesses long dead now. But if it hadn't been her…

"Sorcery!" one of the bandits shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Morgana. The man who held her quickly drew his sword – and just as quickly it sprung from his hand, impaling one of his brothers. Three of the others drew their weapons, and all at once all three were knocked from their feet away from their prey. By this time, the ones still standing had apparently decided she wasn't worth the trouble. In seconds they had turned their heels and fled, leaving their fallen members behind.

"Not a very daring bunch," Morgana mused, brushing herself off.

"Are you alright?"

She turned to see the boy finally emerge from the trees. Her mind still reeling, she surveyed him carefully before placing her hands on her hips and fixing him with a knowing glare. "You have magic," she told him. It wasn't a question. He was the only one that could have been responsible for what had happened.

He let out a kind of breathy, forced laugh. "What are you talking about?" he asked almost convincingly, if she hadn't known better. "I didn't do anything."

She raised her eyebrows. "I know magic when I see it," she went on. "Look." Something told her it was a bad idea, but for some strange reason she felt as though she could trust this mysterious stranger. She raised a hand and muttered a spell. She could almost feel her eyes flash as the magic was released and a small pile of stones rose slowly into the air and spun around each other as if pulled by puppet strings. After a moment she lowered her hand and let the stones fall. The look on the boy's face was of complete and utter shock, and brought a laugh from her throat.

"You have it, too…" he realized absently, still staring at the rocks though they were now decidedly still.

"So you admit it," she said in triumph.

His eyes snapped onto hers, their serious intensity making her smile falter. "You've got to keep this a secret. If anyone found out—"

"Relax. Don't you think I know what happens to magic users here?" she stopped him. After all, it was just as imperative to her that this meeting remain a guarded secret. As he sighed in relief and looked down, another thought hit her. "Besides, I don't even know your name."

He raised his head slowly and studied her carefully for a long moment, before finally answering, "It's Merlin."

"Morgana," she replied in kind.

Merlin grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose you really can take care of yourself."

Morgana felt herself smile, though this time it wasn't forced. "You as well."

"Well, Morgana," he said, drawing himself up and reaching out a hand, which she clasped and shook. "It was nice meeting you."

"The pleasure was mine," she offered amiably. "Perhaps we'll cross paths again someday." She didn't think it likely, but that morning she also hadn't thought it likely she'd meet another sorcerer during her travels, and yet there he was. In fact, though she couldn't explain it, part of her may have actually wanted to see him again. She could easily say she had never met anyone quite his like before.

He bowed his head as she turned to resume her journey home. "Be careful," she heard him warn after a moment. She looked over her shoulder to shoot him a knowing smile (and noticed that this time he was no longer following her), before averting her eyes from this mysterious stranger and heading on her way.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Merlin was humming absently by the time he returned home.

In fact, his spirits were so noticeably high that no sooner did he enter Gaius's castle chambers than he was met with the inquisitive glare his guardian reserved for the occasions on which he feared his charge up to something mischievous – more often than not magic being involved.

"You seem to be in an unusually good mood," Gaius observed warily as Merlin closed the door behind him.

Merlin grinned and shrugged. "Beautiful day," he answered cryptically. In all honesty, the day itself was fairly average. His good feeling was due instead of course to the strange woman he'd met by chance that morning while on errand. He couldn't explain it fully, but it made him glad to meet another sorcerer who didn't appear to abuse their gift as so many he'd known over his years in Camelot. Maybe there was hope for the future of magic after all.

"Did you get the things I asked?"

Merlin snapped out of his thoughts at Gaius's voice, before removing the bag from around his shoulder and handing it to the older man. He then made his way to the table and sat down, helping himself to a slice of bread.

As Gaius rummaged through the pack, he frowned and said, "They're a bit worse for wear… You didn't have any trouble, did you?"

"Oh," Merlin recalled, swallowing a mouthful of bread. "Ran into some bandits." The smile still hadn't left his face.

Gaius raised his eyebrows in what looked to be concerned disbelief. "And that's a reason to be happy?"

Merlin considered this for a moment, before answering simply, "Yes."

He tried not to laugh as Gaius sighed and shook his head. "Merlin, sometimes your inexhaustible optimism astounds me." Merlin grinned in reply, offering nothing more on the matter. "Well, since you're in such high spirits, now seems a good time to tell you that Arthur was looking for you."

At this news the smile finally slipped from Merlin's face. "Can't do anything on his own, can he?"

Gaius smiled. "That's why he keeps you around."

"And here I thought he liked me for my company." Merlin stuffed the remainder of the bread slice into his mouth and leapt up from the table, bidding Gaius a brief goodbye.

As he hurried down the hall toward the prince's chambers, he thought again of the girl – Morgana, she'd said her name was. He was sure he'd never seen her before, but he had the strange feeling she was someone important. She'd been headed toward Essetir when he'd left her… Perhaps she was a member of Cenred's court. She hadn't been dressed lavishly, but nor did she likely belong to a common village. He supposed it didn't matter much either way. Chances of his meeting her again were slim to none, after all.

Regardless, meeting another who had magic and didn't use it for evil always had a certain way of giving Merlin hope. Maybe one day people like Morgana and him wouldn't have to keep secrets as they did. Someday, he would make Arthur understand that.

"MERLIN!"

Merlin flinched as the sound of his name echoed angrily down the hall.

Someday, he thought, quickening his pace, but… not today.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Morgana had made the difficult decision not to inform her sister of the incident with the bandits a few days past, or especially of Merlin, and she was now finding her secret-keeping abilities tested to their limits. Morgause had a way of looking at Morgana as though she knew the younger woman was hiding something from her. Still, she hadn't acted suspicious, so Morgana had remained true to her decision. Though in truth she wasn't sure how long it could be kept up.

"And how is King Uther faring these days?"

Agravaine – brother-in-law to the king of Camelot, uncle and advisor to the prince regent, and spy for the High Priestesses – looked up from his glass as Morgause addressed him from the head of the table. "Not well, I'm afraid," he replied, his voice showing far less remorse than his words. "He continues to grow weaker by the day. It could be mere weeks now. Or…" he pulled a vial from the pocket of his surcoat and shook it for emphasis, "…perhaps sooner."

"That is good news," Morgause replied, a satisfied smile on her face. "You've done well, Agravaine."

"Some other news I thought may be of interest to you, my lady," he went on. "It seems Arthur has heard rumors of a village in the kingdom of Camelot near the border that has been supplying you with men and materials. He plans to ride out with a small force at dawn tomorrow to question these villagers for information himself."

"Does he, now?" Morgause sounded intrigued. "Then perhaps we will give him more than he searches for. Ready a team, fifty should be sufficient – Arthur won't be bringing many. His arrogance will be his undoing, mark my words."

"It shall be done, my lady," Agravaine answered dutifully. "Will you be leading them?"

Morgause paused, before answering, "No. My sister will be going along in my stead."

Morgana almost dropped her goblet. "Sister, are you certain? You wish me to lead these men?"

"You are more than a capable sorcerer, Morgana," her sister replied, placing an encouraging hand on her arm. "But I want you to lead them from the shadows. The enemy know your name but they do not know your face. Remember, secrecy is your weapon." Her favorite phrase, Morgana couldn't help but think. "Assist the men, but do not let yourself be seen."

"Of course, sister," Morgana bowed her head, adrenaline already building. "I will make you proud."

-0-0-0-0-0-

"How is he?" Merlin asked Gaius as he handed over the vial of remedy in his hand.

Gaius shook his head as he unstoppered the vial and slowly poured its contents into the king's mouth. "There's been no change," he admitted in a tired voice. "His condition still worsens. I don't understand, our measures should be helping him regain his strength. But for all we do there is little to show for it." In the dark of the king's chambers Merlin could scarcely see the slow, steady movement of Uther's breathing as he lay sleeping on the bed. It was many months ago now that the king had first shown signs of illness, and no matter what Gaius had diagnosed and prescribed since then it seemed as though nothing had had even the slightest effect. When the first morning came on which Uther did not wake from sleep, Merlin had even tried healing him with magic when he was sure there was no one around to oversee. But he might not have risked it for all the good it had done. He'd been in this comatose state ever since, and his duties had been thrown in a heap onto the shoulders of his grieving son.

Just then, the door opened and Arthur strode in. "Merlin," he said upon catching his servant's eye. "I was just looking for you. Turns out we may have a clue as to where the High Priestesses are hiding." The Priestesses were the sworn enemies of Camelot, promising doom on all descendents of the Old Kings as well as any who followed them willingly. They had been suspiciously quiet recently, however, which worried Merlin and Arthur both. If there was a chance they could learn of their whereabouts, it was something they had to jump on. "I'm taking a small group of knights to see what we can learn. We ride out at first light – make sure everything's prepared." Merlin knew 'we' meant that he would be going along as well, and that if preparations were anything less than perfect he would be hearing about it later.

"…Any change in my father?" Arthur asked Gaius carefully, sounding as though he was guarding himself for the answer he knew would come.

"I'm sorry, sire," Gaius answered, clearly regretting each word. "He is weaker still tonight than the last."

Arthur was silent for a moment, nodding absently. He finally said, "Well, keep trying. Do whatever you can." Gaius bowed his head in acquiescence, before leaving the room.

When Gaius was gone, Arthur sighed and sat down heavily in the armchair beside his father' bed. "They're responsible for this, I know they are."

Merlin didn't have to ask to whom or what the prince was referring. He too had begun to suspect that sorcery was involved in the king's mysterious and seemingly untreatable illness. And who had better reason to poison the king than the Priestesses who so hated him? That was why finding them was so important to Arthur, Merlin knew – it may mean his father's life.

"We're gonna find them," the servant assured his master in a quiet voice. "He'll get better."

Arthur rested his head in his hands. "I hope you're right, Merlin." After a beat he looked up again and said in a louder voice, "You should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow if you want to make sure everything's prepared. Which you do."

Merlin smiled and inclined his head. "Goodnight, sire," he said, dutifully but not unkindly. Arthur nodded in response, and Merlin left him alone with his father.

The next day, Arthur, Merlin, and a few of the prince's most trusted knights set off at dawn as the plan had dictated. There was little talk, as Arthur seemed particularly grim that morning – a fact of which everyone had quickly become well aware.

Before long, Gwaine reigned in his horse beside Merlin's. "Have you spoken to him this morning?" the knight asked in a hushed voice.

Merlin frowned. "Only briefly. He spent the night in Uther's chambers – I had to go looking for him when he wasn't in his own for breakfast." After a pause, he continued carefully, "He grows more worried every day. I think it's only gonna get worse until Uther either gets better or…" He let his voice trail off, knowing his meaning was clear.

"You've been helping Gaius out. You think the king's life is in danger?"

Merlin gave a half-shrug, as if to say anything was possible at that point.

Gwaine sighed. "I wish he would realize he hasn't got to do everything alone," he said, "what with such great friends as you and me."

Laughing, Merlin replied, "Don't let him hear you calling us his friends." He straightened his back and said in a deep voice, "'A king has no friends, only subjects. Stop speaking nonsense or you'll be spending the night cleaning the stables.'"

"That wasn't bad," Gwaine said appreciatively, laughing aloud. "But your face was all wrong." He knitted his eyebrows in the most comically intense frown Merlin had ever seen and shot him a steely glare, making the servant snort and push back a laugh.

"Anytime you two would like to stay on task," Arthur's voice chimed in from up ahead. Merlin and Gwaine turned to see him glaring at them. "And Merlin, be sure to keep up or you'll be spending the night cleaning the stables."

"Aye, sire," Merlin replied, trying his hardest not to laugh (though he managed better than Gwaine, who was snickering into his gloved hand). Arthur eyed them suspiciously, before spurring his horse and forging ahead, leaving his entourage no choice but to follow.

They must have been mere minutes from their destination when they heard the horses. Arthur reigned in and signaled for his party to halt as the hoof beats grew nearer, coming toward them from up the road.

"Stand your ground," the prince commanded. "It may just be a hunting party. With luck we can pass by peacefully."

Any hopes of a peaceful passing, however, were dashed as the first men rounded the bend. Merlin groaned inwardly when he noticed the coat of arms on their dress as belonging to the High Priestesses' personal guard. This was no hunting party. This was an ambush.

Arthur wasted no time. He drew his sword and let out a fierce battle cry, leading a charge directly into the fray. Merlin quickly noted that their meager party of ten (nine, excluding himself) was outnumbered at least five to one. He leapt off his horse and dashed off the road beneath the cover of darkness, where he could utilize his magic to assist the knights. Nothing major – guiding a sword arm here, tripping a foe there – but this was his usual method of battle and so far it had worked well. It certainly helped that the knights of Camelot were clearly better trained than their opponents, who were falling rapidly.

As Merlin crept through the trees to follow the fighting, he stepped on a twig with a particularly loud snap. He froze and held his breath, but it was too late. The nearest man had seen him. Almost without thinking he turned and bolted into the forest, as the man grabbed some friends and chased after him.

-0-0-0-0-0-

How could this be happening? Her men had the advantage of numbers and magic, and still they were falling to the swords of Arthur Pendragon and his knights? Morgana was furious. Looking on from the shadow of the forest, she knew that all hope had been lost. She had two choices – reveal herself or flee. And unfortunately, that meant she really had only one choice. Though it shamed her to run, she knew her sister would sooner forgive her for that than for allowing her presence to be known.

With an angry snarl, she turned away from the road and dashed back into the forest. She hadn't gone more than a few seconds, however, when something slammed into her from the side, knocking her to the ground. Biting back a curse, she spun around when she heard movement beside her. Her mouth dropped open in shock at the sight.

"Merlin?" she sputtered in disbelief when she recognized him.

He looked just as surprised to see her. "We've got to stop meeting like this," he joked, sounding out of breath.

"But…" Morgana began, trying to fathom what was going on. "What are you doing here?"

A voice shouted from somewhere to her right, and Merlin looked up sharply at the sound. When three of her men appeared and pointed at them, he said "Running!" in answer to her question, before grabbing her arm and pulling her along behind him at a sprinting pace.

She knew this wasn't necessary; her men had recognized her, she'd noticed. Great, they probably think I'm being kidnapped, she thought, almost smiling at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

And speaking of ridiculous, that is likely how she would have described the odds of meeting Merlin there that day. Did he maybe live in the area? She barely had time to think, however, as he guided her through the trees with alarming agility – it was all she could do to keep up and avoid tripping over the uneven forest floor.

When they came to the top of a ridge, Merlin finally let go of Morgana's arm and leaped the twelve or so feet to the ground below. He turned and gestured for her to follow, and she knew she had to obey if she didn't want him to realize the men chasing them were with her. So she swallowed a complaint and climbed carefully down the side of the ridge. When she reached the bottom, her skirt snagged on a broken tree root emerging from the wall of earth and she lost her balance. She fell sideways with a surprised yelp, landing against Merlin's chest. His arms reflexively encircled her body to steady her, and he hissed a muffled, "Shh!" in response to her shout.

She raised her head to glare at him, but whatever retort she'd imagined died on her tongue when she saw how close his eyes were to hers. When she looked into them, she felt as though some strong, alien force had entrapped her gaze, leaving her unable to look away. She was vaguely aware that he was staring at her with the same intensity with which she must have been expressing, but for a brief second her senses seemed dulled. His eyes are so blue… she noticed absent-mindedly (which she would later kick herself for thinking, but right then it was the most important thing in the world).

Then after the longest few seconds Morgana had ever experienced, Merlin blinked and shook his head, breaking the invisible ties that had bound them. He glanced up and they heard footsteps moving away from their location. "Looks like we're safe," he whispered.

Morgana realized she was still leaning into him (and that he was still holding onto her) and instantly came to her senses. She stood up straight and shoved him off, finally offering him the glare she'd meant to give when she'd fallen. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"I could ask you the same," he shot back, looking at her expectantly. "Are you from the village just up ahead?"

Her mind racing for an excuse, she answered, "Yes, I am." Hopefully he isn't from there… If so, he'll know I'm lying. When he didn't dispute her, she forged on. "I heard sounds and voices from the forest, so I came to see what was going on."

"You sure do enjoy getting yourself into trouble, don't you?" he asked rhetorically. Beneath the light tone, there was worry in his voice.

"I'm not afraid of a little danger, if that's what you're asking," she responded with a mischievous smile.

He shook his head. "Still… Why don't you come back to Camelot with us? It'll be safer there."

Her heart leapt into her mouth. "Camelot?" she repeated in disbelief. "You're from Camelot?"

"Yes, but don't worry about your magic, no one will find out," he went on, ignoring the shock that she was sure must be evident on her face. "Arthur claims he knows how to spot a sorcerer, but I've been his personal servant for years and he still has no idea I have magic."

Morgana was speechless. Arthur's… servant…? She hadn't realized before exactly how dangerous this Merlin was. She had to get away from him as fast as she could. If Arthur knew she was here… "No, that's alright," she finally said, trying her best to keep her voice level. "I'll try to stop poking my head where is doesn't belong. I promise."

"At least let us escort you back," he persisted, once again taking her by the arm and leading her through the trees (albeit at a slower pace this time). "We were headed that way anyway."

I have to get rid of him, Morgana thought frantically. With little else to do, she reached for the magic within her and without using a verbal spell, chose the largest rock she could see and willed it with her mind. It sped through the air and collided hard with the back of Merlin's head. His grip in her arm vanished as he grunted in pain and surprise, before collapsing onto the ground, knocked out cold.

She knelt and examined him, quickly learning that he was alive but would not be stirring any time soon. "I'm sorry," she admitted softly, surprised that she actually meant it, before rising and hurrying away.

In no time at all she came across the three men who had chased her and Merlin to the ridge. "My lady!" one said as they all bowed their heads. "We feared you'd been taken captive by the enemy. Where is that—?"

"He's dead," she lied at once. Somehow, she couldn't help but hope that Arthur found Merlin before her men could. And of course, that he kept his mouth sealed. "How many survived the battle?"

"Less than a third, my lady," the man on the right answered. "I regret to say we could not hold them off."

"It's alright," Morgana answered gruffly. "I'm ordering a retreat on any left alive. We will not fight a battle without hope of victory. Return to the castle, and make certain that you aren't followed."

The men answered their assent and set off, and Morgana's only thought was that now she had yet another secret to keep from her sister.

Obviously very different from Act 1 of Romeo and Juliet, I know... But the beginning was what I actually struggled with the most. I don't want this to take place over the course of 3 days like the play does. I mean, that's just silly.

Reviews are love, my friends! And the more I'm loved, the faster I'll update!

-oMM