*1*

Merlin knocked on Morgana's chamber door, the package of medicines tucked under his arm. She let him in and he breathed an inner sigh of relief that he had made it here without being stopped by any of the guards relentlessly searching the city for the missing Druid boy.

"How is he?" Merlin asked.

"He's sleeping." Morgana walked toward the alcove where they had fixed up a makeshift bed on the floor. "He's very pale. I worry he may have lost a lot of blood."

Merlin set his package on her table and approached the alcove. She stopped beside the red curtain she used to hide the boy from prying eyes when anyone entered her bedchamber and then glanced at Merlin as he came to stand beside her.

Merlin stared down at the wounded child. The boy's breathing seemed regular but his skin had an unhealthy shine that indicated fever and the bloody bandages on his left shoulder smelled of infection.

"Has he said anything at all?"

Morgana shook her head. "Nothing." She raised her eyes to Merlin's. "He won't even tell me his name."

He caught his breath at the concern on her lovely face so close to his. Morgana was wearing the sapphire dress that made her eyes appear blue instead of green and her hair was loose around her shoulders.

Merlin scratched his head and moved away from her to lean against the wall on the opposite side of the alcove. "You know, for a moment there earlier, I- I thought you were going to hand us over to the guards." He grinned to show he would not have held it against her for refusing to harbour a mere servant and a fugitive.

"I'm glad you have so much faith in me, Merlin."

His face fell. "No, no, sorry. I meant, you're the King's ward. You're taking a huge risk helping the boy." He peeked up to find her eyes on him.

"I wouldn't see an innocent child executed." She looked down at the sleeping boy.

The tri-patterned swirls tattooed on his upper chest that marked him as a Druid rose and fell slowly with his shallow breathing.

"What harm has he ever done anyone?" she asked.

"Uther believes he has magic, and that makes him guilty."

Morgana looked back at Merlin with an angry frown. "Uther's wrong."

Merlin's gaze jumped to her face at the passion in her voice. "You believe that?" Did she mean what she said? Would she accept him if she knew the truth about who he really was?

"What if magic isn't something you choose? What if it chooses you?"

His heart sped up. He could not tear his eyes away from her. She was the king's ward – beautiful, strong, perfect hair, fine clothes – yet entirely different from Uther or any other noble he had met in Camelot. She did not look down on this boy despite his lowly status and the likelihood that he had magic and she spoke with Merlin as though he was an equal, as if he was a trusted friend.

Her brow puckered as her eyes met his. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He dropped his gaze to the floor. "Nothing."

"Why are you helping him?" she asked.

Merlin's eyes slowly came up to her face and he let out a breath. He wanted to tell her, wanted to trust that she would not turn him over to Uther, that she would protect him like she protected this child. "It was a spur of the moment decision," he said instead.

She raised a brow.

He looked away in embarrassment. "What do you think we should do with him? He can't stay here."

She turned her concerned gaze to the injured boy. "We have to find a way to get him back to his people."

*2*

One of the burning logs snapped, sending a cascade of sparks into the air which glowed momentarily in the darkness. The bright orange sparkles faded quickly. Merlin leaned forward from his seat on the log and set down the twig he had used to poke the fire, feeling the heat on his face though his back was cool despite his jacket.

Beside him, his mother put her left arm around him and leaned closer. Her voice was a whisper even though she had checked to see Morgana and Gwen were fast asleep.

"They shouldn't be here," Hunith said. "Especially the Lady Morgana. Isn't she the King's ward?"

"Not that you'd know it."

Merlin looked at her sleeping form stretched out on the rough forest floor beside Gwen, heads pillowed on their packs. They shared two blankets between them, one to give them some protection from the rocks poking out from the dirt and leaves and one to warm them and keep away flying insects while they slept.

Strands of Morgana's long, dark hair had come loose from her braid and straggled across her smooth cheek which was lit on one side by the campfire, thick lashes dark against her pale skin. He remembered her coming forward to help his mother to her feet when King Uther refused Hunith's plea to send help to their tiny rural village at the edge of Cenred's kingdom. Morgana had seemed more a monarch than Uther as she escorted Hunith from court, throwing a reproachful glance over her shoulder at the king.

Then later she boldly walked into Gwen's home and announced that she, the king's ward, was going to accompany him and his mother, common peasants, to their home village to defend it from a bandit attack. All he could do was stare in disbelief at this fierce and lovely noblewoman who would put herself in danger to help his village in defiance of the king.

Merlin faced his mother again. "She's the only person I know who isn't frightened of him." All these months and Uther's presence still made Merlin's stomach clench but Morgana thought nothing of arguing with the fearsome monarch.

"It won't make any difference to Kanen that they're women."

"I know. But I couldn't talk them out of coming." He stared into the flames, gratitude warming him inside the way the fire warmed his face. He looked back at his mother and gently touched the healing bruise on her right cheek, next to her eye. His brow furrowed. "I want to make him pay for what he did to you."

Hunith leaned forward. "Promise me you'll be careful. No one can find out about you."

A tiny smile curved his lips. "They won't. They never do."

For a moment, a brief instant, he imagined what it would be like if they all saw who he really was, if the Lady Morgana saw him for who he was.

Hunith reached up to tilt his head forward and kiss his brow the way she had done when he was a small child. She caressed his cheek as she let him go. "Get some rest." She patted his arm and then his hair before she got to her feet.

After his mother lay down on her own blanket, Merlin took his stick from the fire, the end red and glowing, and blew a few flecks into the air.

"Draca."

The sparks formed into the shape of the Pendragon crest and he imagined the admiring smile Morgana would give him if he conjured fiery silhouettes for her.

*3*

Morgana lay on her bed, still wearing the emerald green dress she had put on earlier when they took away her Druid robes. She wondered what Gwen had done with the rough woolen garments and wished that she could have kept them, but she could not think of a plausible excuse to hold onto clothes which had been given to her by her "kidnappers."

It was dark outside her window, although inside her chamber a dozen candles burned. She raised her head at the sound of a knock, then went to open the door.

Her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her when she cracked open the door. "Merlin."

He had been staring at the corridor floor but he raised his eyes to her face at her greeting. "My lady."

Morgana let him in and closed the door behind him. He was wearing the red tunic today under his well-worn brown jacket, but his neck was bare. She could see his collar bone poking out from his skin and a bit of chest hair beneath the deep V of his shirt. She quickly turned her gaze away.

He shuffled his feet without saying anything. She waited quietly, feeling a mix of reassurance at his presence and an odd tension.

Finally he spoke. "I wanted to check you were ok."

"I'm fine." She glanced at him and away again.

There was a long silence while both of them stared at the floor. He had taken a grave chance in getting her the location of the Druid camp and risked his life again to warn her that Uther thought she had been kidnapped. When she refused to return to Camelot, Merlin had understood; at his words of empathy in that crude tent in the Druid camp she felt a connection stronger than she had felt to any other person. Then when he helped her escape, gratitude for his bravery and loyalty had nearly overwhelmed her. If there had been time, she would have showed him how much his support meant to her.

But now they were back in Camelot and Uther would not tolerate her going missing again. If she vanished, he would hunt down and kill every Druid within the borders of his kingdom and beyond. She was a prisoner in this castle, a prisoner with a secret that could get her executed, and Merlin knew that secret. "What was said at the woods ..." She was afraid to meet his gaze.

"You can trust me, Morgana."

She looked up to see an earnest expression in his captivating blue eyes.

"I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you, Merlin." She smiled and nodded and he gulped. "I know now who I really am. And it isn't something to be scared of. Maybe one day people will come to see magic as a force for good."

It was a risky thing to say, but he only smiled at her as if he was proud of her bravery, as if he understood. She felt her face light up and looked away embarrassedly before he saw how pleased she was by his acceptance.

"Erm ..." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his dark-haired head bowed, without saying whatever he was trying to say.

She regarded him closely, reminded that it was late at night and they were alone in her bedchamber. She was aware his gaze sometimes followed her the way so many men stared and yet she had never felt so safe with a man, so completely at ease. Suddenly she wanted him to gaze at her that way again. She wished he would look at her so she could guess what he was thinking.

Finally he met her eyes. "It's good to have you back."

"Thank you, Merlin." She smiled and nodded again, looking up at him through her lashes, but he merely stared shyly at the floor again.

Her heart slowed its rapid beating. He was her friend, and she had probably mistaken his kindness for desire when it was simply his nature to be caring. She heard him draw in a breath as she turned to open the door.

She wondered if he was going to say something else but he only nodded at her and left the room.

"Sleep well," she said as she closed the door behind him.

*4*

The stillness was unnerving. Even in the dead of night there were always footsteps in the corridors, the sound of voices outside the window. Now it was broad daylight yet no one moved and no one spoke either inside the citadel or without.

Morgana sat at the table in Arthur's chambers, the prince's sword held loosely in her grasp and Uther's sleeping form only steps away. She could take this sword and run the tyrant through and none would stop her: Arthur and Merlin had left and may not make it back safely and everyone else was already asleep, everyone but Morgana herself. Besides, the Knights of Medhir would kill the king if Morgana did not so it was only a matter of time until he died anyway. Or maybe Morgause would kill him.

Morgause. Morgana remembered meeting the blonde sorceress in the woods and agreeing to help overthrow Uther, but that could not mean, it could not, that Morgana herself was responsible for this wretched curse that left the city vulnerable. Because if that were true then it meant she had put them all in deadly danger: Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Uther, Leon. Uther deserved to die, she would gladly see the lying dictator cast aside the way he cast her aside when she disagreed with him, but she would never endanger Gwen or Arthur or … Merlin.

Merlin was the only one who knew her secret, the one who protected her. He was lying to Arthur by pretending that Gaius had given her a potion because it was probably her magic that guarded her from this sleeping spell and Merlin would not let Arthur suspect she had magic. Now Merlin was out there finding a disguise that would mask the sleeping king's identity and what if Morgause saw him or the Knights of Medhir caught him? He had been gone too long already.

Merlin ducked into the room carrying servants' clothes. He shut the door and leaned against it and her gaze fastened on him in relief. He turned to meet her eyes and then looked quickly away. There was a sheen of sweat on his paler-than-usual face that showed how close he was to succumbing to the sleeping spell.

"I was worried about you," she said.

Merlin ran to Uther and threw the clothes on the floor without looking at her. "They're here! They're in the castle!"

"Where's Arthur?"

"Gone to find somewhere safe to move to."

"Thank you for not saying anything to him." She wanted him to know how much she appreciated his loyalty, his trust, his support.

"It's all right."

He kept his back to her as he fussed with the clothes and she wished he would meet her eyes so she could show him how much his faithfulness meant to her.

"You're a good friend," she said.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his blue eyes filled with a strange mixture of guilt, resolve, pain, devotion, and suspicion. The door slammed and Arthur rushed in.

*5*

When Merlin reached Camelot, he made his way through the dark streets into the citadel's torchlit corridors and then toward the physician's quarters. The workroom remained bright and Merlin hesitated when he saw Gwen in the chair at Morgana's bedside. Then he strode purposefully toward the maidservant whose eyelids were drooping even while she stubbornly refused to leave her mistress's deathbed.

He bent down beside Gwen and put his left hand on her shoulder. "I'll sit with her. Why don't you go and get some sleep?" His hand on her shoulder guided her up. "You must be exhausted."

Gwen allowed him to help her to her feet though her gaze did not leave Morgana's ghostly pale face. "If she wakes up ..."

"I'll call you," Merlin agreed quickly before urging her toward the door.

"Thank you." Gwen gave a last look at Morgana before turning away, unable to stifle a yawn.

Merlin sat in the chair Gwen had vacated, staring down at the face that was nearly as white as the pillow below it. Morgana's dark lashes and sweat-soaked hair were even darker next to her pale skin.

He glanced toward the door to ensure Gwen had left, then looked back at Morgana. He remembered Uther sobbing in his chamber, Arthur slashing a training dummy in the pouring rain, Gwen's tears, and the worry lines in Gaius's wrinkled cheeks as he watched Morgana slip away despite his efforts to repair the outer damage caused by her fall down the stairs.

Merlin pictured Morgana as he had first seen her: standing in a castle window looking down on the execution in the courtyard below, her long, flowing dark hair framing the loveliest face Merlin had ever seen and one of the saddest. It was the only face in that densely-packed crowd that turned away from the horrible spectacle the way he did.

He remembered her accompanying him and Arthur to destroy a monster which was poisoning the water supply, her tender care of the injured Druid boy, the polite courtesy she showed his mother, her brave announcement that she was going with him to Ealdor, the wildness in her eyes when she begged him to tell her she had magic, and her heartfelt "I'll never forget this" as he helped her escape with the Druid elder.

Dark shadows had grown under her eyes after that, not because of the nightmares which had plagued her since childhood, but because of the terror she lived with every day and the pain of hiding her secret from those who could have comforted her the way he should have. He remembered the depth of betrayal in her green eyes as she stared up at him, one hand pressed against her throat, desperately trying to draw in air through the strangling poison.

Later, those eyes had turned hard and cold when she threatened him with Uther's wrath if he dared speak to Arthur about her meeting with Morgause. Bitterness had iced Morgana's tones as she faced him in the crypt and threatened to kill him if he tried to stop her.

If she died now, those who loved her would mourn the selfless woman they had known. They would be spared the eventual hurt of her betrayal. More importantly, the traitor she truly was would not imperil Arthur's life again. All Merlin had to do was … nothing. By morning she would be dead of her head injury.

He watched her chest faintly rise and fall with the wheeze of her shallow breathing. Then he leaned forward and stretched out one hand to hover above her damp brow. "Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!"

The force of the dragon's reluctance to save her fought against the spell and his right hand shot out to grasp his left wrist and hold it steady over her until he completed the enchantment. His eyes glowed golden.

Morgana gasped, then her breathing evened out and pink seeped back into the pale skin. She visibly relaxed into a deep sleep.

*6*

Merlin's blissful state of unconsciousness was interrupted by a dousing of cold water. He came awake, gasping. A wave of crippling pain spread from his chest followed by a realization that the smells and sounds around him were unfamiliar and that his arms ached from supporting his weight.

Blinking water out of his eyes as it dripped from his dark hair, he tested the bonds tied around his wrists to find they were fastened to a ceiling beam in the dilapidated hut. Calls of forest animals and wind rustling through trees were barely muffled by thin walls and scents like Gaius's storage cupboard mixed with more pungent odours to remind him of an apothecary's shop. Myriad jars, bottles, and other containers filled shelves and items of all kinds hung from every available space in the crude dwelling.

He focused on Morgana as she set down her bucket and moved close to him. Her black mourning dress was of fine cloth but had been inexpertly patched many times, the lacings were frayed, and rips around the hem needed mending. Her raven hair was snarled and knotted back in a clumsy twist. She looked very different from the impeccably groomed woman who had been King Uther's cherished ward and then briefly Camelot's despised Queen, but her face retained its breathtaking beauty.

"Good morning," she said brightly, her green eyes as cold as frost under dark, thick lashes.

If looks could kill, her wish to see him dead would be fulfilled. "Is it?"

"Oh, don't be like that." Her pretty mouth formed a pout.

Her simper turned his blood to ice, the full lips so close to his that her breath brushed his damp cheek.

"We have a lot of catching up to do. After all, I haven't seen you since you condemned my sister to a slow and painful death, thwarted my plans to take over Camelot, and forced me to live in a hovel." Her gaze flicked to the cluttered, drafty single room.

"Couldn't do me a favour, could you?" Merlin taunted back. "Let Arthur know, he still thinks of me as an underachiever but I'm quite proud of those accomplishments. I can die happy."

"Oh, you're not going to die," Morgana said. "Oh, no, I'm not going to make it that easy."

Her tone left no doubt that whatever she planned was unpleasant in the extreme. Her flawless skin was prettily flushed, her perfectly arched brows slightly drawn, her full mouth parted. How could the face which consumed his dreams and his nightmares have remained unchanged while her heart withered in bitterness? Fear and hatred had corrupted her, eaten away her loving spirit until her only thought was to take the throne of Camelot and force everyone to her way of thinking, like Uther had done.

There was nothing left of the woman who cared for the oppressed, who had spoken of magic being a force for good. Perhaps Uther, too, had once shown love and compassion for people before his wife died, before bitterness and hate twisted him the way Morgana's loneliness and fear had twisted her.

Merlin had abandoned her to that loneliness, that fear. He had not trusted her the way she trusted him and now they were enemies. The pain of his shoulder wound was overwhelmed by the pain in his heart.

He wondered if it was regret for the chances they had thrown away that he saw buried in her green eyes or only a reflection of his own guilt.

As Morgana washed the unconscious man's wound, her eyes darted to his face. When Agravaine's mercenaries had dragged forward a body in a well-remembered brown jacket, dark-haired head hanging limply, her heart had leapt. Finally, after so many attempts, finally the meddlesome serving boy was out of her way.

She had dug the toe of her boot into his side and kicked his lifeless body onto its back. His chest barely rose and fell and his left shoulder was a bloody mess under the red tunic and blue neckerchief. His life was nearly gone. Then Agravaine had moved to end it with one thrust of his sword and she had stopped him with a word.

Instead of letting Merlin die, she staunched his wound and ensured it was cleansed of any source of infection, then used a spell to accelerate the natural healing process. Except for their brief exchange earlier, he had been insensible during her ministrations.

She pressed her cloth into the torn flesh with unnecessary force, delighted when he groaned and his blue eyes flickered open. She wanted him to look at her, to understand he was as powerless in her hands as she had once been in his arms, choking on the poison he tricked her into drinking.

He had known her in ways no one else understood, kept her secrets and lied for her, protected her, and she had trusted him. He was the one person she counted on as the world went mad around her, cut off from her friends and family by her secret; then he had betrayed her. He had willingly traded her life for her brother's.

"You know there's one thing I don't understand, Merlin," Morgana said. "You're Arthur's servant, nothing more. Yet, time and again, you've proved yourself willing to lay down your life for him."

"What are you doing?" Merlin said groggily, unable to hide another wince.

"Have you never seen Gaius clean a wound before?" She dug into the deep gouges with her damp rag, washing out a bit of red cloth.

"All right, I know what you're doing," he growled weakly. "What I don't know is why."

She grabbed his chin and forced him to look into her eyes. "I believe I asked you a question first," she snapped. "Why are you so loyal to Arthur?"

As soon as she released her grip on his face he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I don't expect you to understand, Morgana," he croaked. "You have no sense of duty, no sense of loyalty."

"You're wrong," Morgana said softly. She forced him to look at her again. "Don't think I don't understand loyalty just because I have no one left to be loyal to."

There was a time when she had been utterly loyal to him. The remorse in his eyes sparked an answering ache of regret in her chest for what they had nearly had and all they had lost.

Under her hand, his chin was rough with two days' growth of dark bristles. She stroked her thumb against the sharp cheekbones and his blue eyes widened. His breathing quickened and stirred the hair beside her ear.

Their faces were so close that the tiniest movement brought her mouth into contact with his. She moved her head slightly so her lips brushed against his, barely touching, her gaze holding his.

The blue of his eyes darkened and then his mouth was pressed against hers.

She gripped his chin tighter as she returned the kiss with equal passion, her eyelids closing while her mouth opened under his. The scent and taste of him overpowered her thoughts, her plans, even the memory of why she hated him now as much as she had once loved him.

They broke apart slowly, air beginning to seep back into her lungs as her present circumstances seeped back into her mind.

His chin dropped and he stared at the ground.

Morgana placed her hand on his wound and incanted a spell that would speed the healing. She needed him to live long enough to accomplish the task she had in mind. Watching with satisfaction as he was unable to keep his eyes from closing, Morgana placed her hand on Merlin's head to complete the spell and left him hanging by his wrists from the ceiling.