Confrontation was imminent; he could feel it in the air. It hung around him like a poison, slowly sucking the life from his lungs. It was torture, watching her smug, confident face smirk behind Uther's back, behind Arthur's back. It was all for his benefit, all aimed at him. She took evident pleasure in seeing how helpless he was. He couldn't go to Arthur, or to Gwen – no-one would believe the word of a servant over the word of the king's beloved ward.
And yet, he felt it was partly his fault. He set the events in motion which led to her turn to darkness. Believing the Great Dragon's word, he made to murder her – he sought to murder his friend, his…
She was so trusting. She took the water from him without a second thought. For one moment, for one life-changing, excruciating moment, the darkness overtook him: he became what he feared the most. His heart broke slowly, painfully, as she began to realise she's been betrayed. He held her close, unable to believe what he'd just done. As she gasped for her last breaths he begged for the ground to collapse beneath them and swallow them both. He didn't want to live with this; he couldn't.
The next few months felt like he was in some odd place between living and dying. He, along with the others and half of Camelot, spent every waking moment searching for her. The wound caused by trying to kill her was still fresh: he didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he didn't speak unless he needed to. It began to eat away inside of him, clawing and scratching at his humanity.
He sank deeper after she returned. He thought he could appeal to her, but she was slipping too. Gone was the warm-hearted, caring woman he knew; she was cold, arrogant and impregnable. He watched helplessly as she began to hurt the others he cared about.
Time was running out. He had to do something, before they were both lost forever.
She is the darkness to your light; the hatred to your love.
Destiny was wrong. Not all things were so black and white.
"Morgana, how is your ankle this evening?"
Arthur's question broke Merlin sharply out of his reverie, so much that he nearly dropped the jug of wine he was holding. He caught it just before it slipped from his grip and stood straight once more: he was eager to hear how the king's ward would answer.
"Yes, Morgana, I heard Gaius gave you something for the pain. Is it any better?" the king added, leaning over to his ward, concerned.
Morgana smiled graciously from behind her goblet. "It is a little better, I thank you. I can almost walk properly again." Her gaze fluttered from Uther to Merlin, at which point her eyes darkened. She wore the perfect mask; to anyone else she appeared polite and endearing. To Merlin, however, she saved a cold, calculating look of loathing and hatred. Merlin fought the urge to glare back at her. It was painful. He wished he could shout all the repressed feelings he held deep inside of him straight into her smug face. He wished he could push her against the wall and keep her there until she renounced her hatred of Uther, and make her promise to stop hurting Arthur and Gwen.
She noticed him thinking about her, making her vicious smile widen further. As Uther and Arthur talked politics, she reached over for her wine goblet, slowly and seductively sipping from it, her dark eyes never leaving Merlin's. He felt his body tense as he watched her. She pulled the goblet away and wiped a stray drop of wine from her red lips, before the corner of her mouth pulled back into a deadly smile. She held up her goblet for more, her eyes dancing with amusement.
After what felt like an eternity, Merlin was at her side. He began to pour the deep red liquid into her awaiting goblet. Before he knew what was happening, he felt her hand trailing over the small of his back. He turned his head towards her and they locked eyes. He was met with an almost innocent gaze.
"Is there something wrong, Merlin?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, shielding their conversation from the others in the room.
"What are you trying to achieve here?" he demanded, moving away from the feather-light touch of her hand on his back. Morgana would have looked mortally offended, were it not for the smirk at the corner of her mouth. "Don't look at me like that – you know exactly what you're doing."
She threw her long ebony tresses over her shoulder as she laughed; mocking and cruel. "Oh, Merlin, am I making you uncomfortable?"
"I'm not going to lie. Yes, I would prefer it if you didn't… touch me." He regretted the words as soon as he said them. She had the upper hand, and she knew it. He could see it in her eyes as she grinned.
"Well, I suppose I could comply. But you're enjoying this, aren't you Merlin?"
At this point, Merlin dropped the jug of wine he was holding. The ruby wine spilled onto the floor. Arthur and Uther were suddenly alert and stern.
"Get out, Merlin; you're a nuisance." Arthur was unusually cruel; his voice was laced with anger. From the look on his face, Merlin deduced he had seen something. "I'll deal with you later. And clean this up."
As he did so, Merlin was well aware of Morgana's penetrating gaze on his back. He left hurriedly, not wishing to look the Lady Morgana in the face any longer.
She was taunting him, playing with him. And she was winning.
Something began to move inside of him as he strode back to his room. The darkness was unfurling, he could feel it. And for once, he didn't want to suppress it. He wanted to make Morgana feel just as humiliated and ashamed as he was.
She wouldn't have the upper hand for long.
"Merlin, I want a word."
Arthur had caught up with him. And he did not look happy.
"How can I help you, sire?"
Arthur folded his arms and took a deep breath, evidently contemplating how to phrase what he was going to say.
"I saw what was going on at dinner, Merlin. I'm not blind."
"Nothing happened at dinner, sire – "
"I'm not a fool!" Arthur exploded. "I've told you before; the Lady Morgana is completely off limits to you! If you keep pining after her, you'll not only leave here with no job or prospects, but also a broken heart." His expression softened slightly. "As much as you annoy me, I don't want to have to fire you. Am I clear?"
Merlin admitted defeat. It was probably better to just go along with it. "Yes, sire. I promise I'll stay away from her."
Arthur seemed to look satisfied. "Good. Right, now that that is settled… have you seen Guinevere?"
"She'll probably just be finishing with Morgana," Merlin guessed.
"Ah, right. Excellent. Well, good night Merlin." The prince turned swiftly on his heel and marched in the opposite direction, leaving Merlin with the empty jug still in his hands.
Hypocrite.
Merlin was struggling to sleep. Insomnia was no stranger to him these days, not since the previous year; the year when everything started to go wrong. It was her scared, helpless face that kept him up most nights. First when she realised he'd poisoned her. The second when they found her in the forest, covered in mud, cuts and bruises.
For once, Merlin had pushed these images out of her mind. Tonight was about the revenge which was slowly boiling inside of him. He would usually fight it, but tonight the darkness would take over.
He threw the blanket from his body and leapt to his feet. It was now or never. He'd make her regret toying with him.
Merlin swept through the dark, empty castle like a shadow, swift and silent. The night was black, though mist swirled on the horizon. He found her quarters with ease. His eyes flashed amber as he unlocked the door, and he carefully crept inside.
He was amazed at how angelic she appeared while asleep. Her snow white skin contrasted perfectly with the deep black of her hair, spread over her pillow. Her sleep appeared fitful though. Her eyelids fluttered slightly. As though she could sense his presence, Morgana began to toss and turn, moaning.
She still suffers from nightmares.
For a moment, Merlin began to reconsider what he was about to do. She was still the scared, fragile sorceress with no one to turn to, hiding her magic from her guardian. He was about to turn around.
Her eyes flew open and burned with magic. A nearby vase of flowers exploded violently, showering Merlin with shards of glass, some of which cut into his arms and back.
His resolve stiffened as she noticed him standing there.
"Merlin – to what do I owe this pleasure? A visit after dark? What would Uther say?"
It was now or never. The darkness was pulling him under.
Merlin sat down beside Morgana, leaned over and captured her lips in a kiss.