I still have two unfinished Mergana stories (both at HOT precipices) and then this idea strikes. I actually blame Anastasia-G. When responding to her review for "A Thin Line", this idea flashed across my mind and bam, story idea. Anyways, hope you enjoy this. It's not something I've seen in many Mergana archives, although I'll admit I only read the more naughty 'T' and 'M' ones.

It takes place a few weeks after the end of S3. And Morgause isn't quite as injured as we're led to believe (haven't seen S4, although I know that spoiler).

Chapter 1

The two people were whispering loudly in the stone hallway.

"She's a liability," said the voice of the man. His lavish clothing and the circlet on his head designated him as royalty.

"She's still my sister. We can't just kill her," said the woman. She was blonde, equally well dressed, with an air of authority about her.

The man paced down the hall and returned to stand in front of the woman. "Can't you just enchant her or something? Surely you know something powerful enough to bend her to your will."

The woman shook her head vehemently and said, "She's become too powerful. If she's capable of resisting us on this scale, any enchantment I use to control her will surely fail."

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he said, "There must be something."

"I know of something…but there's no guarantee that it'll hold. And it still might get her killed. She'll have to depend on Arthur's forgiveness," she said.

"We can't keep her here, Morgause. She's already thwarted several of our plans. You have three options: kill her, in which she won't have a chance to ruin anything else. Let her return to Camelot, as she desires, in which case we're doomed. Or you use whatever enchantment you've dreamed up to keep our secrets safe and her head intact. It's your choice."

After a moment of consideration, Morgause agreed, "Alright, alright. We'll go with the third option."

The man nodded and they both entered the door at the end of the corridor. It was small dungeon room, the damp air and sparse surrounding designating it as such. But seated on the floor was a woman, her chin raised mutinously at the intruders, her hands chained together and to the wall. Raven hair spilled over her shoulders and her blue velvet gown pooled around her. One might think submissive from the position, but the unholy light of rebellion in her eyes said otherwise. Morgana Pendragon, dethroned queen of Camelot.

"So you've come to some sort of decision? What's it to be? Death by hanging or an ironic gesture with witch burning?" the chained woman said, a note of steel in her voice.

"I'm sorry you've had such a change of heart, sister," said Morgause, her voice not the least bit kind.

"I'm not. I saw what a monster I'd become under your guidance, sister," Morgana finished with a sneer.

"Clearly I gave you too much credit. And too much practice at treachery. Indeed, I gave you everything a person could want. Love. Acceptance. Why, I'd even procured you a kingdom, with a chance to gain it back," she said.

"Those were your ambitions, not mine. I'd become your puppet. But I'm done with that game," spat Morgana.

"You ungrateful bitch," said the blonde woman through clenched teeth and a clay pitcher broke nearby. Her eyes had taken on a quick glare of gold.

Unfazed by the broken pitcher, Morgana raised her chin a notch higher and smirked, "Temper, temper. Pray, kill me quickly, because I don't know if I can tolerate your presence much longer."

On that, sister, we are agreed. But as much as you deserve such an end, I can't give you such satisfaction. We're still blood. Besides, I've heard another person has that task. And I've no wish to deny the almighty Emrys his due," she finished with a sinister smile.

Morgause raised her hands and said with deadly intent, "Goodbye, sister. I won't make the same mistake again. Because you're nothing but a disloyal bitch."

Then she spoke the words to a powerful spell. One that made the entire room teem with gusts of wind and bolts of lightening. Trying not to be afraid, Morgana gave her sister the same defiant look and shouted over the din, "Whatever it is you plan to do, it can't be worse than being here."

Her eyes began to flutter shut, the effects of the spell coming over her swiftly. She resisted as much as possible, but Morgause's loud chant, her power was too much. Within moments, Morgana was fully unconscious and slumped over on the floor.

Morgause smiled at the still body, "Oh, you'll rethink that taunt very soon, sister."

Merlin didn't mind the outdoors. In fact, of all the tasks he had to do in his minor role as physician's assistant, he quite enjoyed the 'gathering herbs' bit. It certainly beat out cleaning the leech tank any day.

Now Gaius did pick random times for him to pick herbs. 4 in the morning. 11:30 at night. And today was no different-right at noon when his stomach was growling from a long morning of mucking the stables. Mind, Arthur hadn't made him do that particular task in a few weeks. One of the few rewards from his recent show of loyalty.

Noonday flower, a plant that only bloomed at noon as the clever name suggested. And of course, it was on the closest border between Camelot and Cenred's or whoever it was's kingdom, about an hour's ride from the castle. He'd saddled a horse and rode out grumbling about silly old men and their penchant to ruin lunch. But once he got outside the citadel walls, he didn't feel quite so cranky. The sun was high, the breeze was nice, and he could milk this task for the rest of the afternoon. He had so few moments of freedom, it seemed a shame to waste it.

So he rode out to the border, content to finish his task as quickly as possible so as to enjoy the afternoon. He was whistling to himself as he got off the horse at the field where noonday flower grew.

Grabbing handfuls, he put copious amounts in his satchel, unwilling to receive the Gaius eyebrow because he hadn't brought back enough. He'd bring back a whole bloody garden of the stuff.

He continued to whistle as he ambled around the field, stuffing his pack full.

Suddenly something caught his gaze out of the corner of his eye. He immediately stopped whistling, intent on what appeared to be something red on the ground of the field. It had been quiet along Cenred's borders since the King's death, but Merlin knew better than anyone how dangerous the borderlands were. He'd let down his guard. Slowly he approached the flash of red, ready for anything-a pack of stealthy soldiers, a gryphon, a golden eagle. Maybe some type of freakishly large cardinal.

But as he moved closer to the object that caught his eye, he wasn't entirely sure what or who it was. His feet were quiet as he crept closer and closer to the red object, finally identifying it as a red cloak. That still didn't mean it wasn't a soldier.

He withdrew the dagger from his ankle as he snuck closer. From about seven feet away, he could see that it was a person, although they didn't appear to be moving. Carefully, he moved closer, dagger still at the ready.

But as the lines become clearer, it wasn't just a person. It was a woman. And from the lily-white complexion of her hand, a lady. She was turned to the side, her cloak covering most of her body and all of her face. A few pieces of dark hair spilled onto the ground next to her covered face.

At first he feared she was dead, but before he could process that possibility, he heard a softly drawn breath. He cautiously approached her, still uncertain of what to make of this. A woman near the border of Camelot and Cenred's kingdom? What had happened to her? Was she merely sleeping?

"My lady? May I be of some assistance?" he called loudly.

Silence was his only answer. Well, a villain wouldn't answer, would they? That would ruin the whole element of surprise. Still, it could be some poor lady of the court who'd been robbed and had her horse stolen. It was only chivalrous that he approach and discern her status. He might not be a knight, but he did have good manners.

He lowered the dagger but didn't sheathe it. Slowly he knelt by the woman's back and softly touched her shoulder.

Nothing. So she wasn't asleep. Then he turned her to her back, trying to determine the cause of her injuries.

But as the hood of the cloak fell away and her beautiful face came into view, he gasped and moved away.

Because it wasn't just a woman. Or a mere lady. The winged eyebrows. The lush red lips. The white oval face. Even with her jade eyes closed, he'd know her anywhere.

It was Morgana.

And if she was here, it looked like his carefree afternoon had just come to an abrupt end.

FINIS

What's the verdict? I'm sure this will go up, although I'm pretty comfortable with it being a 'T' for now. Please review!

On an unrelated note, I'm looking into some Arthurian novels. Aside from Merlin, my tastes in Arthurian legend are fairly academic( i.e. Spenser's Faerie Queene and Mallory's L'Mort d'Arthur or Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.) Are there any novels that anyone would suggest? I already have the Mists of Avalon on my list, but what about Mary Stewart's novels? Or really anything. I'm entirely open to suggestions.